Monday, May 21, 2012

"Simplify."


So there I was last night...laying in bed trying to fall asleep...and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Backstory....

This past Christmas, I met my girlfriend's cousin and his boyfriend (yeah, I said his boyfriend. Get over it.). The boyfriend was an indie writer/director who spoke about his movie and its release.

At the time, I just thought it was really cool to know somebody in the movies, even if it was just the indie scene.

Recently, his movie has been gaining traction. With its release, publicity is growing and the response has been positive.

I read up on it more and more last night...and it just made me mad.

Don't get me wrong. Not at all mad at him. I think he's a fantastic person. I truly enjoyed getting drunk and talking to the two of them that night (obviously we fall on the complete opposite ends of almost every spectrum known to man, but the discussion was so robust and intelligent that I couldn't help but love it). I wish the both of them all the success in the world and I hope this movie propels him into the stratosphere.

I was mad at myself.

Why the hell wasn't I trying to do something like that? For most of my life that I can remember, I was always sure I would be doing something involving writing.

Only...I had no plan. No roadmap to get there. Only the thought and belief that I would get there. By some fluke chance, I'd be getting paid to write- be it my opinion, imagination, or some combination of the two, I'd be a writer.

Of course, I am the only one to blame for this massive failure. If I want it, I need to make it happen. I need to find a way. Instead, I sat here like an idiot and waited for that spark of genius that I would ride into the sunset.

It got me thinking.

What the hell would I write about? I used to think that my senior year of college was a good story to write about. It might still be. The first story I wrote about it was just dripping with hatred and self loathing. I thought writing as catharsis would absolve me of all the pain, guilt, and destruction around me.

It didn't.

So I thought about life in general. I thought about all my friends. How I grew up. Everything that happened to me. Autobiographical, if you will.

It tied into a feeling I've been having for awhile.

Restlessness. Not necessarily unhappiness, but the fact that I can't pinpoint what's been making me so restless does lead to that unhappiness.

I need to be doing something. But there's a million things to be doing. It's just this nagging feeling. Have you ever had that itch in the back of your throat that you can't scratch? Well, imagine that, only its not an itch, its only an ineffable feeling that consumes your chest cavity and your skull. You can't escape it. Its just there. Its not malicious, its just inexplicable.

More recent backstory...

I got home on Sunday and got into my  room, sat down, and just looked around.

Clutter. Everywhere.

I got mad. I don't know why. One word came to mind. The culmination of this constant restlessness combined with all the myriad feelings I've dealt with recently.

"Simplify."

I grabbed trash bags and immediately just began stuffing things in them. Some with clothes, some with mail or other papers from nightstands....anything remotely complicated got thrown into a bag and removed.

That's just a start.....

"Simplify."

--to make less complex or complicated; make plainer or easier: to simplify a problem.

The clutter was just a surface movement. Just a measure to get started. To simplify is to strip to its essence. The only way to figure this thing out is to remove the complex. Remove the unnecessary.

That's not easy for me. I've always been a bit of a wanderer. I prefer to be alone and at any given time I can be interested in five different things. I've never been good at a singular focus.

Back to the beginning...

Laying in bed, with thoughts of how to simplify everything combined with my waning anger that was losing its battle to sleepiness, I began to doze off, letting my mind wander to what I'd right about. If I could write a screenplay and make a movie, what would I say. What would be my point?

The Cleveland Syndrome. (Yup. I made it up. Deal with it.)

Stockholm Syndrome is the creation of empathy through a traumatic experience.

Cleveland Syndrome is the creation of apathy through traumatic experience.

If I could boil down everything wrong with me into one synopsis, I'd probably explain the main issue with most of the people who live in Cleveland these days and aren't successful (at least not to the level they want to be).

People who end up being wildly successful deal with life differently and think differently. Malcolm Gladwell wrote a whole book about that. But, when faced with adversity, they pointed their aggression and their ability straightforward and used it to propel themselves ahead of everyone else.

We, on the other hand, we get hurt. We get hurt often. Sometimes to the core. Bone shattering. Cold pain. It hurts, stings, burns, breaks, destroys, kills.

We channel the aggression and ability.......nowhere. Aimlessly. Brought up in a culture where its better not to try because the fear of the unknown is greater than the desire to succeed. Drowned before we even tried to doggie paddle, if only because we were really afraid to drown.

Don't get me wrong. I love Cleveland. I've written at length about my love for the city.

But I think this syndrome is real. Its why the city and its people are constantly downtrodden. Constantly the butt of jokes that weren't even funny when the incidents occurred some 40+ years ago.

We are one of the few places in the US, the land of opportunity, the land of millionaires, who choose mediocrity because we're used to it. Its a warm blanket. It says "you don't have to go anywhere, do anything, or be anybody, and I'm still going to be here for you. You'll never have to hurt or feel anything. You just live."

Maybe its just me who feels this way. Maybe I'm swinging blind in the dark. I don't know.

I'm just determined to figure this thing out. To make something happen. To figure out why I have this feeling that won't go away. (Maybe its an early sign of a heart attack. Who knows.)To figure out what I need to do to make me happy.

Whenever I write, I always settle on a playlist of beautiful, melodic, slower music. It allows me to hear my inner voice better and block out everything going on around me. It allows me to simplify. It becomes a background- its there, and I know its there, but it doesn't really register. Its just an inner conversation with myself  with an audible soundtrack for anyone nearby who wants to listen.

Its simple. Which is what I need more of.

Simplify. 

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Cyclical


One of those moments in life happened today. One of those moments where you step back from life, in an almost ethereal sense, and take stock of everything going on around you.

Death.

Nothing pauses a human more than death and the thoughts that it brings. It’s a definite end. A period mark with no sentence following.

A friend, a teammate, somebody I hadn’t talked to in years but once considered a friend, decided to end his own life. It’s the first time I’ve had to hear and deal with someone my age passing away.

It really jolts the system, regardless of how long its been since any communication with that person.

I will never judge another person for their life choices- we all have our separate roads to walk. Sometimes those roads cross, sometimes they stay parallel and we wish there would be a cross point, some are on opposite sides of the city. We may have an idea of what that other person’s road looks like, but in reality, we haven’t the slightest clue how they see it. Our bed of roses could be someone elses bed of thorns. He made a decisive choice that has no return point. His road dead ended, never to be paved again. Right, wrong, or indifferent, that is absolute truth. I wish his life would have blossomed into whatever happiness he desired, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. Regardless, I hope he may rest in peace.

I’ve never been able to wrap my head around the thought of suicide. I don’t know if its that I’m hard-wired differently or what, its just never made concrete sense to me. Not at a young age. The only time I’ve understood is in the case of Hunter Thompson. He went out like a true man- he lived the life he wanted, by his own terms, and when life took those terms away from him, he ended the game. What a way to live- keeping that control that everybody so desperately seeks, even to the bitter end.

I know I’m still young, and its still a foreign concept and that I have a lot to learn, but the mere thought of death scares the hell out of me. It always has, but for the simplest reasons.

I’m so enamored with what this world, what my road has to offer, that I want to keep traveling to see where it takes me next. Good, bad, ugly, ridiculously amazing, it’s a ride that has kept me on the edge of my seat.

I’ve always thought people saw life the same way, but it is becoming increasingly apparent that that just isn’t the case. Too many people get mired in the details and allow the down time to sandbag them, to suck them in like quicksand.

If you’re one of those people, here’s a quick piece of advice- it always gets better.

I know its cliché, but its honest truth. Life is cyclical. Any religion will teach the same thing- you’re born, you live, you die, you participate in some form of rebirth. Even atheists believe in the cycle of life- they live, die, and their remains feed the Earth and the Earth will always grow.

Life is exactly the same way. You’ll peak at the highest highs, and stumble through the lowest lows, but you’re never stuck at one point. That’s the beauty of life- its so inconceivably complicated that you’ll never be stuck at one point. Something will always come around to change things up; maybe not as soon as one may like it to, but something always happens.

That’s what makes me love life. Its like the best movie you’ve ever seen. Being a bit of a movie fan, the movies that inspire me are the ones where I can’t guess what will happen next- the ones that deviate from the norm, the ones that create conflict out of minute detail versus the ones that follow the common form of characters-conflict-resolution-denouement-open door for sequel. Life is the best movie or story you’ll ever have knowledge of because you can never tell what’s happening next.

That’s the way I’ve always seen it. Maybe its because I’ve always been interested in movies and writing, that viewpoint always made sense to me. Like I said, everybody’s road is different, so everybody will see it in their own way.

In this situation, I just wish I could have given him my rose colored glasses to take one last look at his road before he decided to stop paving.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

I'm a Clevelander

One of my good friends, Sarah, has begun a new blog project about Cleveland. Her side of it is going to focus on the fashionable and all other fabulous things that I don't have a clue about. When she told me about it, I immediately jumped out of my chair, interested in the project. Right now I'm guest writing for her, but considering my level of excitement and the deluge of ideas I've put together over the years, it may transform itself into a whole different beast (aka I make another foray into putting a writing group together akin to New Breed). We shall see....

Anyway, here's my first attempt at putting my love for this city into words...thanks to Sarah for the inspiration to finally take it out of just ideas and put it into words.


“I’m A Clevelander”


Cleveland isn’t something you do. Its not some place you come and go from. It’s not some destination.

You are Cleveland.

There’s a distinct difference. I’ve seen it time and again. You can ask anyone where they’re from and 99 times out of 100, you’ll get something like “I’m from outside Los Angeles”, “born in X, raised in Y”, or just the simple “Chicago”.

Either you are Cleveland or you’re not. It doesn’t infect everyone. But those people it does infect….and there are quite a few, it’s easy to see. Ask them where they’re from and you’ll get…

“I’m a Clevelander.”

There’s no two ways about it. Either you love it here or you were never really meant to be from here. You breathe life into Cleveland. You’re what make it vibrant, quirky, and enjoyable to those who can find the intrinsic value of people.

It’s a lifestyle, being a Clevelander. Its how you act, where you go, how you think, etc.

Its watching shows specifically because Michael Symon is going to be on it, or because they might mention Cleveland, or because some product of the surrounding area (Patricia Heaton, Halle Berry, Trent Reznor, the Black Keys, MGK, Gray Maynard) are going to be featured. Its not you on the screen or coming over the radio, but because it’s a Clevelander, because its someone you imagine feels the same way you do and knows the city, you feel that immense pride as if it had been you in their place all along.

Cleveland isn’t about pretty, though it has a lot of beautiful people and even more beautiful places. Cleveland isn’t about gritty, though there still are remnants of the steel mills and a lot of dirty jobs in the area. Cleveland isn’t about money, even though day after day people are spending more to revitalize areas. Cleveland isn’t about being misfortunate, even though the river has caught fire and there is a lot of poverty in the area.

In the end, Cleveland is a city. It’s a physical place on a map and can be Google searched and mapped.

However, the truth to Cleveland is in the feeling and emotions.

Cleveland is about us. The feelings evoked when you think about the city. The fierce devotion to something outsiders just wouldn’t understand. The collective need to try to make those people see exactly what Cleveland means.

I spent six total years away from Cleveland, living and working in different states, traveling all about the US on business trips. Sometimes those trips took me out to the “dream” locations like Los Angeles, Seattle, Dallas, Orlando, Las Vegas, Chicago, etc. Those places always glamorized in movies or talked about as the “must see” destinations due to whatever thing they’ve got going for them at the time.

Whenever I would land or drive past the ‘Welcome To” signs, the Clevelander in me immediately came out. It’s a fierce competitive nature and defensiveness that quickly arises almost as a fight or flight defense mechanism, probably created by years of suffering Cleveland jokes or sports teams that love to give people reason to hope before slapping them in the face and taking it away. I was determined to try and see what these places had over Cleveland. Why do people rant and rave about a city like Chicago but love to talk about how awful they think Cleveland is? I was determined to prove them wrong, determined to prove that my indiscriminate love and admiration for my city wasn’t some misguided attempt to make excuses for a dying metropolis, much akin to those poor souls who make excuses for their disappointing significant others with things like “He’s a good guy when you get to know him” or “You see a different side of her than I do”.

When I moved back home, a lot of friends and co-workers would always put me on the spot. When I would tell them of my travels and places I had the opportunity to live in, a lot of the time I would get a classic exasperated “Why would you move back HERE? Its CLEVELAND!” It would take all my energy to not give them the blankest, dumbest face I could muster.

They didn’t understand it like we do.

Others, when talking about it, would just nod their heads and give the knowing look. They immediately understood. Why wouldn’t you move back to Cleveland? It’s CLEVELAND.

I’m not as pretty as Sarah, nor am I even as close to as fashionable as she is (on many occasions I’ve sent her extremely desperate texts and IMs for fashion advice which ends up always being right), but we share the love of this awesome city.  I’m the type of guy who doesn’t quite understand how to pronounce “Haute” and can’t figure out if cargo shorts are passable in public (apparently a lot of the time they’re not).  I’m here to offer a bit different viewpoint of Cleveland, the other side of haute.

Sarah talked to me about this new venture of hers and I immediately jumped into the idea (she didn’t have a choice in the matter, really). I love this city and the feeling I get when I think about it. I hope to impart why that matters so much to me as time goes on.
 

Sunday, December 12, 2010

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

Yeah, I stole the title from Smashing Pumpkins. Oh well.

I decided to give it a shot to add more to the story I had begun to tell months ago. Instead of being linear, I picked a different point in the story to share.  I'm reprinting my original piece for a reference point, as well. Enjoy. Leave comments criticizing or praising. This story is a piecemeal of different things I've encountered over the past 6-7 years. I think it makes for a great story. This has nothing to do with retribution, airing dirty laundry, being therapeutic, or anything of the ilk. I just think it makes for a particularly interesting story and anyone else I've told it to agrees. So if you plan to comment to that matter, please, keep it because I'm not interested. With that said....the new piece is first, the older piece is below it.

 “The Beginning is the End is the Beginning”

It had been a wonderfully emotional night for Charlie. The way he had been brought up, the way he had held himself over the years, emotions were just unnecessary things that creeped up inside him and made him feel awkward. There wasn’t much he could do about it besides deal with it, but he often tried his hardest to suppress or hide them.

Tonight had been different though. He knew his time in college was drawing to an end. It was the first week of his senior year.

His little sister, whom he had gotten along with okay, but by no means did they have a great relationship, had decided to follow in his footsteps and come to his college. He didn’t let on much about it, but inside he had been crazily happy that she chose to come with him, hoping it would be a friendship he had hoped to have with her over the years.

That night, in an orientation program for freshman that Charlie helped put together, they had a moment. Its a moment that only brothers and sisters can have, when they finally connect on a higher level than just ‘that other person that calls them mom and dad and pisses me off all the time’. It was visceral. It was real. It shocked him.

He cried in front of over 100 people. It was the first time he had done so since his uncle had died of cancer 6 years prior.

As Charlie walked down the street, still dressed in his now wrinkled and tear stained black suit, blue shirt, and loosened red silk tie, the smile across his face showed a young man at peace.

It had been embarrassing, at first. He never wanted to show a weakness as large as openly crying in front of people. After the fact, though, it made him feel better.

It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His mind was racing with a million thoughts. Where he could take this new found happiness...how he could expand upon it....just what he had been missing by being so devoid of real emotional depth...

He had to share it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and crafted a text message for Ashley. He thought it would be a perfect start to the semester, considering his plans.

“Hey sweetheart. I had a really great night tonight. I just wanted to say I love you and I can’t wait to share our final year of college together. I’m so excited to see what our future brings.”

Over the summer, Ashley had begun to bring up wedding plans. Nothing specific, just conversation in hypotheticals.....and leaving up websites of wedding dresses she had been looking at.

It was hard for Charlie not to get the hint. At the same time, it was hard for Charlie to be okay with it. They had talked about engagement and marriage before, but was he really ready for it?

Up until tonight, he wasn’t sure. He had started saving for the ring already, knowing it was where he thought he wanted to go.

Tonight, however, it all made sense. She was definitely the one for him. The outburst of emotion with his sister tonight had brought up and subsequently answered a lot of questions for Charlie.

As he keyed into his room, his pocket buzzed to life. He checked excitedly for Ashley’s response, but it was just other people on campus looking to go out to the bar that night.

Charlie sat at his desk and hit the button on his laptop, illuminating the room with the light of the screen. He pulled up his bank account and checked the numbers again. One or two more paychecks and the ring was covered.

He couldn’t help but lean back in his chair, toss his hands behind his head and smile.

For once, things were going right. For once, he felt he deserved for things to go this smoothly.

He closed his eyes, still smiling, and all he could do was picture her, smiling back at him. They had their ups and downs, but Ashley was the one constant Charlie always wanted in his life, through good times and hell. He thought she brought out the best in him.

As he was getting lost in his thoughts, his cell phone buzzed again, rattling off the hard top of the desk, jarring him out of his daydream. It was the return text from Ashley.

“Umm...thanks. We need to talk. I’m not sure this is right for me anymore.”

The phone fell out of his hands, smacking against the tile floor, scattering the back of the phone and the battery across the room. He continued to stare in the direction of where he had been holding the phone a few seconds previously.

After a few seconds of blank stare, he calmly picked up the pieces of his phone, put it back together, and turned it on.

He mustered the only weak response he could...

“......what?”

Gently, Charlie puts the phone on the desk, removes his suit and sits on the edge of his bed in shorts and a t-shirt.
Tears begin to roll down his face, but Charlie was so numb he was completely unaware he had begun crying again.

After all that positivity tonight, this was going to happen now?

He stared down at his hands, which had been gripping his shorts and legs so hard that the indentations had turned white. He pulled them palm upward and continued to stare, expecting them to give him an answer.

The phone began to ring. He glanced over at the screen...it was Ashley.

That was not a good sign.

He puts the phone up to his ear and attempts to quickly compose himself...

“Uhh..hello? Ashley”

“Hi, Charlie..........”


Prologue: Cold Sweat

In the grand scheme of things, everybody has the generally the same game plan. At some point, we all plan to find a career, get married, have kids, attempt to enjoy life, retire, and die. That was Charlie’s game plan, too, until somebody came along and fucked the whole thing up.

Charlie sat on the corner of his bed late one balmy June night, his sweat soaked head in his hands, peering down into the darkness at the beige carpet in his room. He had just suffered the same nightmare he’s had for years past, only this time there was something more real about it. His nightmares weren’t actually dreams, it was him asleep thinking about things that actually happened. He had gotten good at getting past it, something his therapist called “Cognitive Behavioral Therapy”.

He ran his hands through his wet light brown hair and opened his eyes wide. It had been a very crazy three years for him, sometimes he had to check to make sure he was still living in real life and hadn’t shipped himself off to the loony bin. As he stands, his chest heaves with deep breaths and his heart beating hard- the perks of standing too quickly after laying down for too long. His tall frame creates a silhouette against the moonlight shining in through the windows above his bed.

Walking to his bathroom and trying to walk silently enough so as not to wake his housemates, he shakes his head a couple times. It was another bad night, he thought to himself. Just another bad dream. Splash some water on your face to cool down, head back in the room and throw some music on and everything will drift away....

Charlie turned the light on in the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror, his hands holding firm on the edge of the sink. He splashed some water in his face and quickly toweled it off before returning to his bed.

As he laid down, the sound of his favorite singer, Norah Jones, began to echo softly from his computer. Any time he had a bad night, Norah could put him to sleep. Her voice was familiar to him by now. Charlie stared up at the ceiling, trying to coax himself back to sleep...

It all started three years ago.....that one fateful day....

Chapter One: Dragon Pants

It was 2004. Charlie sat in his dorm room, wearing ridiculously brightly colored pajama pants, looking at his roommate. Part of him was cussing the school out. He had came here to escape everything about his high school and his hometown of Cleveland. Instead, the school put him in the same room with some slob that went to high school with him and put his name down on the reserve list.

Russ smelled terrible. He was fat and used steroids, but was dumb enough to use them incorrectly. He’s the kid who thought that just by injecting the sauce into your ass on a daily basis, it would make you bigger. Instead, he grew more rotund. He was your usually wannabe baseball jock. Loud, obnoxious, and believed he was God’s golden gift to the game of baseball and to all those around him with the luck to be around him.

“Come on man, the third and fourth floor are chick floors! Welcome to college, bro! Let’s go get us some fuckin pussy!”  said Russ as he changes out of his practice uniform and into a pair of gym shorts and a cutoff tee.

“Umm...don’t you need to shower first? You just got back from a four hour practice...” was Charlie’s response. “Nah, fuck that, I’m cool.” Russ walked over to the bolted in dresser and grabbed his bottle of cologne, spraying himself down a good seven times, including two good luck squirts on his crotch.

“Come on, bro. Don’t make me go up there alone. This is college! This is what it’s about! Put the fuckin book down and let’s go grab us some snatch!”

The irony of the statement caused Charlie to grin a little. He looked back down at his book, one of the required summer readings, but then closed his eyes and put the book on his desk, shaking his head. If he didn’t go up there with Russ, Russ would do it alone and invariably offend every girl up there, thus making it impossible to bring a girl back to the room, if he ever got lucky like that.

Charlie gets off his bed and walks over to his closet to find a pair of shorts.

“What the fuck are you doing? Lets go man! Times a-wastin and you aren’t getting any prettier!”

“Let me put some shorts on man...let me get out of these pajama pants...”

“Nah, fuck that, bro. They’re good. You need a sticking point. Something they’ll remember you by. If you leave an impression, no matter what it is, bitches remember.”

Charlie laughed once more.

“You really thing multicolored dragon pajama pants are gonna do that? These things are hideous man....I never wore these out in public...”

“Dude, seriously, you’ll be fine.”

“Well...whats your gimmick, Russ?”

Russ quickly looked around the room before grabbing the sombrero from Charlie’s trip to Mexico off the wall.

“Russ, get the fuck out of here. My sombrero? You look ridiculous!”

“That’s the point, bro! Girls love that ‘sense of humor’ bullshit. You know they don’t give a fuck what you really think! As long as you show and pretend you’ve got a quote unquote good sense of humor, panties drop like manna from Heaven.”

Charlie stared blankly at Russ for a second. He didn’t know whether to question how Russ knew a parable and was able to use it correctly, or why Russ connected manna to panties.

“Come on, dude. You ready? Pussy awaits us, my friend!”

Charlie rolled his eyes, lowered his head and walked out of the room behind Russ. This was a huge mistake, but at least Charlie could play the straight man. Russ would invariably make an ass out of himself, which meant as long as Charlie stood there, smiled, and played the shy but respectful type, he would probably meet some girl he could stand talking to.

Most of the rooms were the same. Russ would jump in and introduce himself and start the conversation, while Charlie politely introduced himself and talked to some of the girls he met at orientation. They were all perfectly nice, but none of them really stood out to him. Then again, he spent most of high school playing sports and hanging out with his teammates instead of pursuing girls 24/7. He had his fair share of girlfriends, but most of them came from the team. Needless to say, his skills were a little lacking.

They had made it up to the fourth floor, where all the quads were. Russ stopped Charlie outside of the first one.

“Look, bro. I met one of the girls in this room earlier. She is SMOKIN fuckin hot. Don’t fuck this one up, alright? I wanna bone her.”

Charlie rolled his eyes at Russ.

“Im serious, man! Don’t fuck this one up for me!”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you, Russ.”

Russ knocked on the door and a tiny Asian girl opened it.

“Heyyyyy! Sophie!! How the fuck is it goin?! I haven’t seen you in hours!”

Russ clobbered Sophie with a bear hug as Charlie watched behind him in bemusement as he can see Sophie’s eyes bug out once she catches Charlie’s after-practice musk.

“Hi, Russ. What’s up?”

Sophie removed herself from Russ’ grip and smiled at Charlie, extending her hand for a handshake.

“Hi. You must be Charlie? I’m Sophie. Russ and I met today at orientation.”

Charlie shook Sophie’s hand and smiled. She was cute, sure, but he would hardly call her “smokin fuckin hot” as Russ deemed her.

Russ barged past the door and into the room to meet the rest of the girls. Charlie walked behind him...

And then stopped. She stood in front of him in a pair of green basketball shorts and a gray shirt, her hair done up in a pony tail.

“Hi, I’m Ashley. What’s your name?”

The words didn’t register with Charlie. He was absolutely caught in her beauty. She must have quickly noticed him staring, because she blushed and smiled.

“Do I have a booger or something? Because that would be really embarrassing...almost as embarrassing as those pants..”

Charlie snapped back to reality and looked down. The fucking dragon pants. What an embarrassment. He told himself to remember to kick Russ in the balls later on for suggesting he walk out of the room in these goddamned pants.

“Ahh..yeah...sorry. My best friend from home made these for me.”

“I see. I don’t know many guys who sew.....”

“Oh! No. She’s a girl.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Who, Sarah? God no. We go way back. She’s like a sister. Yeah, no. I definitely don’t have a girlfriend right now.”

Charlie started to blush, badly. He knew he was failing badly at talking to this girl, but he was just shellshocked at how attracted he was to her.

“Good to know. I don’t even know your name, but I know you’re single.”

“OH! Sorry! Sorry! My name is Charlie. What’d you say your name was?”

“Ashley.”

“Hi, Ashley. My name is Charlie.....”

He paused for a moment and smiled. Charlie knew he was going to hang himself later in his closet for biffing the conversation this bad.

“Ah shit. I already told you my name. Sorry.”

“Its alright, Chuck. Where you from?”

Ashley sat on her bed and patted next to her, motioning for Charlie to come sit next to her.

“Thanks. I’m from Cleveland, Ohio.”

“Oh yeah? What part of Cleveland?”

“The actual city of. I hate those people who say they’re from Cleveland, but it ends up being a suburb. If you live in a suburb, just say so. If somebody says they’re from New York, nobody actually asks them where in New York, they just nod their heads. But with Cleveland, nobody is actually from the city. Its dumb.”

Ashley smiled while Charlie just buried his head into his chest and shook his head.

“Ah...ah...I’m sorry. For real. Russ forced me to come out and meet people. I don’t know what I’m doing up here.”

Ashley laughed.

“It’s okay. It’s kinda cute.”

Charlie looked up to see Ashley smiling and brushing a piece of her brunette with blonde highlighted hair behind her ear.

“So, where are you from, Ashley?

“Avon.”

“Oh! I know where that is! That’s about thirty minutes from Cleveland, right?”

“Yep!”

“Oh wow, we don’t live too far from each other.”

“Guess not. Don’t start stalking me now...”

“Oh...oh no. I didn’t mean it in that way! Fuck....do you just want me to leave? I’m sorry.”

Ashley puts her hand on Charlie’s.

“You’re fine, Chuck. What’s got you so nervous?”

“Well, its just that I think you’re really, really pretty. Ohhhhhh....”

Charlie said out loud what he was thinking and only caught himself after he said it. He closed his eyes and tried to fight back the tears of humiliation he felt welling in his eyes. This was kick to the nuts number two for Russ later.

“Oh...well...thank you Chuck. I think you’re pretty cute, as well.”

He looked up again and he must have looked like an excited puppy dog with as wide as his eyes were, because Ashley let out a loud laugh.

“Well...thanks, I think.”

Charlie didn’t know what to do. He had never been in this situation before. In his head were a million different thoughts, none of which seemed like a viable option. However, he knew he got to this point by being open and direct, so why stop it?

“Well, you wanna hang out?”

As Ashley goes to answer, Russ cuts a loud fart from across the room, much to the delight of Sophie.

“Umm...if you keep company like that....”

“Oh no! He’s just my roommate. I DID NOT pick to live with that mongoloid.”

“Alright. We can hang then. You wanna watch a movie later?”

“Sure!”

Charlie was beside himself he was so excited. Is it really that easy? is all he could think to himself. He walked in there, made an absolute ass out of himself, and ended up with a pseudo-date later on in the night. They continued to talk for a few more minutes before deciding on a time to meet later that night to watch the movie. Russ and Sophie butted in and joined the movie plans as well.

As Russ and Charlie walked back down the stairwell to their room, Russ punched Charlie in the shoulder.

“See, ya motherfucker!  I told you things were gonna work out! I’m totally gettin laid tonight! She’s a fuckin slam piece, bro! Totally!”
Rather than engage him in conversation, Charlie merely nodded hid head, still unable to get the smile off his face. Russ or no Russ, he had a movie date with Ashley tonight.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

The Blinking

 (I'm writing off the cuff tonight. I apologize if it rambles, is incoherent, or you just don't get it. I might revise this over the next couple days if I think of ways to fill gaps or further explain)

I've come to find that my best motivation to write often comes at night.

Its a weird happenstance. I'll be thinking to myself...and something will hit a chord. And it will stick. And that thought will turn into  a larger idea.

Other nights...I'll sit down with the intention of writing and stare at the screen as the typeline blinks, almost tauntingly, daring me to put words down. Those nights are the worst. I'll often doubt a lot of things- my ability to write, my intelligence, my creativity...

I got some great advice from an unlikely friend tonight.

"Im enough and I matter."

Saturday Night Live jokes aside (Im good enough, smart enough, and doggone it, people like me), there's a lot more depth to that statement beyond the statement itself.

If you read any of my writings, you usually come to the conclusion that I'm pretty self-conscious and not high on the self-esteem ladder. I was always taught over the years that humility, the act of being humble, meant always meant admitting that there were those that are smarter than you, faster than you, better than you. To me, being humble was admitting that you're not the end all be all. "Never forget where you came from, because you can always end up back there."

And to some extent, it is.

But not really.

From a religious stand point, the major religions teach that humility puts you above others, because you recognize your lowliness and are without ego.

Think about that for a moment.

You're better than others because you choose to recognize you're not better than others. You choose to recognize your lowliness and your submission to your superiors. From a religious standpoint, there should only be one- God. Therefore, if you define humility off that concept, you've got a pretty big gap there, right?

In sports, humble athletes are made into wholesome stars because they downplay their ability. Society chooses to worship someone....who refuses to acknowledge just how good they are.

Is any of this making sense? Because tonight, I can't wrap my head around it. We parade around those who choose not to parade themselves around, in essence ruining the humility they had.

On the flipside, you only get that chance if you establish yourself as being great- one of the best at what you do.

To get to that point though, requires a complete lack of humility. How do athletes become stars? Because they fight every day, training themselves, because they KNOW they're better than anyone else. Writers? They write every day and promote themselves every day, because they know the words they have strung together mean something more than what the other writers have done. Actors? They promote themselves every day, try out for every audition they can get their hands on, because they know the talent inside of them is something different and better than what is currently being offered.

I think...what I'm beginning to get at is that to be humble, you have to be a bit egotistical. To think lowly of yourself, you've got to have something you think highly of.

In Cleveland, Peyton Hillis is near demi-god status because of his humility and his talent. He's the best example I can think of off the top of my head. The man is a wrecking ball, a great running back, and a devoted religious man who constantly downplays his ability. When he first got to Cleveland, he immediately decided to tell the press he was going to make sure he became the best part of the Brady Quinn deal. Every week, he gushes humility, because all he does is play a game. Better than 99% of the people in the world. He's the perfect mix of egotism and humility.

That's how you make it, I think. That's the key to it all.

You cannot be humble without some egotism. I mean, you can be, but who would care? If you think you suck at something and continue to be humble about it, you're going nowhere and nobody really cares.

You can be egotistical without humility...but then you're just a self-righteous douchebag who thinks he's awesome but has nothing to back it up.

There has to be a balance there. You have to know you are better. Whether its a small thing or a larger thing. And it doesn't have to be better than someone else. As I preached in the beginning of the aborted Better Me Project, you can choose to find that smaller thing as being better than the person you were yesterday.

It starts as small victories and it grows to bigger ones.

Tonight somebody forced me to look in the mirror and say "I'm enough and I matter." I did it, laughing and feeling like an ass the entire time, then I sat back and thought about the depth of that statement.

You are enough. You do matter. The only constant detractor is you. The only person who regularly bets against you is you. You either choose to believe you're not very good period or you choose to believe that you're so good youre just out of the stratosphere and make everyone else around you look horrible.

I think the perfect mix of humility and egotism is in all of us, but too often we choose to follow one school instead of the other, thinking they can't harmonize.

I'm enough and I matter, though. I'm really good at the things I do, probably better than most people, and I will use those skills I have to help those around me get better at what they do. Hopefully they make me better. At the end of the day, we all fit together in a pretty awesome puzzle. We can all make each other better because we're so good at certain things and at the same time we recognize we need help with other things.

At the end of the day...all the matters....is that I'm enough and I matter.

Thanks Katie, don't let this get to your already enlarged head, okay? :)

The College Republican Letters...

As some of you know, in the summer the College Republican National Committee accepted me and asked me to write some pieces for them. I only got through 3 pieces before trying to juggle writing and working for ATO became too much to handle, but I finally dug the pieces out and put them up here for people to see...Keep in mind these were all written in the summer. All the articles are below for your viewing pleasure.

-M

(If you're lucky, you may get some original content tonight. But this is me we're talking about. So don't hold your breath. I don't want to be responsible for any deaths tonight.)

Out of Recess... (April 2010 Article for CRNC)

Out of Recess and Into a Recession: Confessions of a Sixth Grade Republican

By: Mickey Hart

‘Any man who is under 30, and is not a liberal, has no heart; and any man who is over 30, and is not a conservative, has no brains.’ -Winston Churchill

I still remember the day I first thought of myself as a conservative Republican. I was in the sixth grade. Our social studies class decided to do a mock election and, as luck would have it, I got picked to run as “Mickey Clinton”. The assignment revolved around researching the candidate, putting together a stump speech for the class, and campaigning around the school for that week.

I lost, handily, because “Timmy Dole” was the popular kid in class and I was the history nerd with a penchant for reading my history textbook while everyone else played kickball on the school yard.

I digress, however, as thats not the point. In doing my research on Clinton, I expected to be amazed by the wonders of the man and his ability to change the world. After all, to a sixth grader, being POTUS is akin to being Superman, except instead of being impervious to bullets, he has Secret Service. Instead of kryptonite....Monica Lewinsky and Kenneth Starr.

My expectations couldn’t be further from the truth. Even as an eleven year old, I could tell something was wrong with what he was trying to peddle as president. It just didn’t make sense.

Thirteen years later, a lot has changed in the world, but I imagine there are many sixth graders coming to the same conclusion.

The quote at the top of this article, attributed to Winston Churchill, posits that young people are more accustomed to liberalism. Why? Because we’re supposed to be naive, idealistic, not yet jaded, still full of vigor and hope to change the world.

The theory has always been that liberals want to change the world- they are the influencers that make the positive change that the world needs. Conservatives are just crusty old guard who want to keep the same ideas and run the course.

I can’t believe that. Not one bit.

For far too long, conservatives and Republicans alike have stayed stoic, stayed out of the name calling, the pigeonholing, etc. We allowed liberals to paint us any color they wanted and we stuck with it. Too concerned with actually making a difference, we began to forget that, in the court of public opinion, all the positive change in the world doesn’t make one bit of difference if you can’t get people behind it.

So I ask, why can’t we be the world changers? What is so inherently wrong with conservatism and Republicanism that we can’t be positive change.

The answer, my friends, is nothing.

This past weekend at a commencement, Obama spoke negatively on the internet and the new media, claiming blogs and other news media may not be the most truthful and are making media another form of entertainment instead of the empowerment it should be.

It is time to show him just how wrong he is. I don’t write for entertainment, I write for empowerment. As the youth of a technologically advanced America, we have a power that our parents, or their parents, or their parent’s parents never could have thought existed.

You’re reading this on the College Republican National Committee website, which means you’re empowered. Or you’re bored, surfing and using the internet as entertainment (for shame!).

Either way, take a stand. Republicans can’t sit back anymore and let the mud roll off our chests. Get involved.

Volunteer for campaigns. This is a huge year. Though you may not understand the intricacies of Congress, seating gains, campaign finance, etc....know that the more we win, the better the chance that we get America back on track. You can volunteer through this website, you can go to your local Republican Party office and sign up, you can find your College Republicans chapter OR even start one if your campus doesn’t have one (all done through this fantastic website, as well).

Donate. If you don’t have money, donate time. Phone banking, door-to-door organizing. Or, if you’re old school, grab a milk crate, stand in the middle of campus, and educate your peers on what you feel is wrong.

Debate. Don’t be silent. Silence is the worst thing you can do right now. I know you have opinions. Don’t keep them to yourself. Share them. If somebody raises points that you don’t agree with, challenge them (respectfully, obviously). Though you may not change their minds, you never know who may be listening in and be swayed.

Recruit. Maybe you’re so busy on campus you just don’t have the time to commit to this noble cause, but you know five people with the time and the same beliefs. Get them involved. Find the connecting piece that will cause them to rise up from their seclusion and take a stand for what they believe in.

There’s a lot you can do. Those are just a few ideas. But its up to you to take the power we’ve been given and run with it.

I found my beliefs in the sixth grade. I secretly rooted for Bush in 2000 as a freshman in high school. It took somebody from my campuses College Republicans showing me that I had a voice, that I could share my beliefs and that, above all else, I wasn’t wrong to think that way. It empowered me.

My hope is this empowers you. Its up to us to make this happen. We are the changing force America needs. We can take American and the GOP on our shoulders and make it better.

Let’s prove Churchill wrong.

Let’s prove Obama wrong.

But, most importantly, let’s prove each other right.