Finality

It's taken me a while to finish this post. I think, now, I know why.

Have you ever felt like your life is stuck in second gear? Like it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year?

I sit here this morning [the morning I started writing this] on one of the Knoxville Trolleys with 14 homeless men on the way to my last final ad a first-semester doctoral student. Tonight, I will be "home" in Cape Girardeau for one month of holiday cheer with my family. Another year is passing. A new year is approaching. Again, I'm reminded of how much things have changed over the course of 2008.

A year ago, I deemed 2007 as "The Year it All Worked Out." I graduated with my Bachelors (finally). I had a very significant relationship with someone with whom I wanted one for a very long time. I moved into a Fraternity house-two! I was president of my fraternity. I fell in love (plutonic, of course) with my best friends. I fell in love (otherwise) a couple of times. I started going on cruises. I learned to love air-travel as well. I fell in love with my family. I lost 100 lbs., finishing off a total weight loss of 160 lbs. over four years. I started running. I started working out. I ended the year with a very big decision that took me straight into adulthood.

The next morning, I awoke to 2008. I realized that decision I made the night before was, in fact, the worst decision I had ever made. This began what would be "The Year it All Crashed and Burned." I moved back to Cape Girardeau for nine months. I struggled with loneliness. I stopped losing weight. I got angry. I received a pretty detrimental diagnosis. I learned my "most significant relationship" was nothing more than a cover-up so I could be cheated on multiple, multiple times. I learned that the person I made my ex- out to be never really existed. I moved 400 miles away from my home and 700 miles away from my heart. I moved to a place I knew no one. I was scared. I lost contact with some very good friends. I met disappointment after disappointment after disappointment.

Now I don't want to be Debby Downer and think 2008 was 'all bad' anymore than 2007 was 'all good.' But it was difficult, to say the least, to see the good through the bad.

This post has been a long time coming I think because of uncertainty. 2007 was one of the best years of my life. 2008 was one of the worst. I just don't know what 2009 brings. The uncertainty scares me.

Perhaps I'll finish this later. Or perhaps there is no ending. Perhaps there is no 'later.' Only time will tell, eh?

Sorry, Dr. Blog...

Dear Dr. Blog,

I know I've been avoiding you. It's really busy this time of year. Proctoring finals, taking my own finals, writing paper after paper (in APA style that I apparently know nothing about). Did you know only one space goes after a sentence, not two like we were taught in typing class? I'm sure you knew that. You're a piece of literary wonder, after all. Why shouldn't you know that? (Notice me practicing. ONE space. Resist the urge to double-space-bar...)

In any event, I hope my readers (all three of them) are ready for my next blog. It's going to be really b*tchy. No, don't get excited. I said b*tchy, not b*tchING. It really won't be all that thrilling. Just something I need to get off my chest. The topic? Well, I won't give away the whole topic, but I will share one detail. One of the pieces of evidence to support my next hypothesis: Fred Phelps. Anger ensues. I can see you react with rage at the sound of his name. ("And tell me, how does that make you feeeeeel.") Should be an exciting topic, eh?

The only question is, should it be a video-blog or type-script? Now before you answer, I know six-minute video blogs are difficult to watch. I don't have time to poop most days - who has time to watch someone rant about music or genetic material for six minutes? The same goes for three-page-long typed blogs. They're just too long. I receive feedback well, and I am working on this. Trust.

That being said, I want to leave this choice up to you, Dr. Blog. Video or written-word? Your choice.

Please let me know ASAP. Actually, take your time. In fact, this whole letter ploy is really just an attempt to buy me more time to write this paper. But I didn't want to leave you lonely. You are loved.

Oh, and if you want to grade these exams for me, that'd be super.

Cordially,

Dr. K.

The Algebra of Loneliness

We all think we need someone else; someone to have, someone to hold, someone to talk to. We all innately feel like a puzzle, with pieces missing.

I don't think that's how it's supposed to be:

Loneliness is sadness about being without someone.
[Loneliness=(sadness) x (me-someone else)]

To fix loneliness, we believe we must have that someone else.
[Not loneliness=(happiness) x (me+someone else)]
[Not loneliness=1/loneliness]
[Happiness=1/sadness]

So we try to find that +someone else to add. And when it doesn't happen (yet, or not soon enough) we resume being lonely.

But I propose there's another formula we have yet to consider.
[Not loneliness=(happiness) x (me-someone else)

The way to fix loneliness is not to desperately search, no matter the cost, for that "someone else." It's instead to make the choice to be happy about who we are by ourselves, without someone else added into the equation.

I used to hear this all the time, without believe it was the case for me. "I'm happy with myself!" I would say. And, for the most part, I was. But I still thought (knew) my life would be incomplete/unhappy without someone else. If that's true, if I need someone else to feel (fully) happy, I can't be happy with myself, now can I?

Fulfillment is happiness with yourself. Fulfillment is happiness with you by yourself. Whether you find someone or not is not the issue.

I now see the puzzle as finished, complete, and beautiful. There are no pieces missing. It's a masterpiece by itself.
If and when I find a "frame" to put it in, I can put it on proud display, and I will pick out that frame when the time comes. But it's not here yet. And I'm more than fine with that.

[Not loneliness=(happiness) x (me)]

Look-Alike Couples

Ever seen a couple walking down the street and you're thinking, "wow - either they're brother and sister or they REALLY look a lot alike!"?

This phenomenon, as well as my own boredom, is explored at length.
Shot on-location on the University campus.
With special guest, Amanda. :)

The sun will still rise on Wednesday

November 4 will come and go; of this I am sure.

Obama or Nobama.  McCain or McCan't.  It won't really matter in the end, I promise you this.

Sure, we have our preferences.  We all (undecideds notwithstanding) have who we would be more comfortable being President.  The results of the election will surely affect our well-being over the next four (or eight) years.  But ultimately, we'll move on.  We've endured a civil war, the alienation of rights to certain minority people groups, and an economic blackout (I'm

 referencing the Great Depression - it's nowhere near that bad now, get real);  and look how far we have come since that time.  We'll do it again.  I promise.

But what I really want - what would be reeeeally great - is if, whoever wins, we could all just get along again.  

I'm sick of people being rude to neighbors just because they don't share a political affiliation.  I'm appalled by fights being started over proposition 712123  and amendment Z.  I'm sick of my country, the most peaceful country in the world, looking like Cuba or some other political warzone.  You get your chance to speak your mind on Tuesday.  Use it, accept the results, and then shut up about it.  Agree to disagree, and move forward.

Love your neighbor - whether he wears a blue tie or a red tie.  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you - whether he has a "A vote for Prop 8 is a vote against fags!" sign in his yard or if he has the equality bumper sticker plastered all around the neighborhood.  Give a smile to a passerby - and don't judge him by his private ballot over his character.

I'm not saying you shouldn't have your political opinions.  I'm not even saying you shouldn't be extremely passionate about those opinions.  But when you start hating people because they don't share your views, and then start persecuting them for those beliefs... That's not any America I love.  That's the tumultuous middle east.  It's the former USSR.  It's the former Iraq.  It's Darfur.  Not my country.

I can't wait until we're all Americans again.  I can't wait until November 5.

The sun will still rise on Wednesday.

The Music In Me

It's time for our first face-to-face session!!!

Woohoo.  I'm excited.

My Best Friend's [Funeral]

I had a funeral last night. I was the only one in attendance. It took place in my bed. The only inspirational music was the rain falling on the mountains outside the window of my loft, and the only casket left open for viewing was a picture in my mind. I didn't wear black. My boxers were blue and white, I believe. Non-traditional, sure. But meaningful.

The deceased was my best friend. The time of death was roughly three or four months ago. I didn't find out until now. Mostly because the death was controversial. It was a motorcycle wreck. Or perhaps it was murder. Actually, I think it was a first-degree, premeditated homicidal motorcycle accident. In any event, it was a strange death.

You see, the body is still (mostly) here, roaming the earth, looking a little lost. All physical signs point to a physical life. But the soul inside this body isn't the best friend I adopted as one of my loved ones - it's someone totally different. Last night was the first time I really accepted that. Both the weight of reality and fictional pallbearers ensued not long thereafter.

Even though I didn't know about the death until last night, I think I knew subconsciously - in the very back of my mind. I could tell something was wrong. My adjustment to life here in the dirty south has been (at best) difficult. It's difficult enough for me living alone with no one to come home to everyday or at least look forward to seeing sometime that week (as I was used to). It's difficult even moreso because of the culture change (see StuffSouthernPeopleLike.com) that goes beyond fashion and attitudes toward an exclusive cliqueish-ness (must've forgotten to pick up my Hick-Rewards Card). But bothering me more than any of this "new" was the fact that the "old" had not yet gone away. I missed (and still do miss) my best friends. But the "missing" feeling I had for my Best Friend was far worse. It was a complete hole, a ulcer in my heart that just kept getting larger and larger -the acid eating away at my soul. I would have pictures in my head, memories; I would relive experiences; I would have conversations (of the way things would/should be) with my lamp. [I know, I'm the psychotherapist - so I should be sane, right?] I was miserable. And all the while, I was missing my best friend because my best friend was all the way back home. Ten hours away. The ulcer ate away faster.

But then, when I would have the (occasional) conversation with my best friend... things had changed. Immaturity. Selfishness. Self-centeredness. Irresponsibility. Judgmental and pompas attidude. Perhaps these were things that were present all the time and I just chose to ignore them. Regardless, now they were front-and-center, plaguing my perfect picture of my best friend whose faults only (previously)contributed to the appeal. But what I couldn't get over, now, was that all the good I had seen in my best friend - the kind words, the moments where I would say "wow you're so grown up!", the spontaneity - they were all gone. It just wasn't my best friend anymore.

So last night, I finally accepted that things had drastically changed. I was angry, more than anything. Angry that my best friend had been killed in a motorcycle wreck three or four months ago and no one had told me. I wasn't just mourning because it was unexpected. I was mourning because I never had a chance to mourn. I was just, suddenly, faced with reality.

The amazing thing is, I think this new realization of my Best Friend's death is a positive thing. The body of my best friend spent so much time occupying that position that it couldn't be filled with anyone new. Now that position is up for grabs, and I feel like I can finally open myself up.

I think I'll still talk to the body, occasionally. We have... well, had... a mutual friend in common, I suppose, in my best friend. I don't have anything against the Body, per se. Just another one of the survivors of my Best Friend's departure. But it won't be the same. Memories will no longer be associated with the body. There will no longer be any hope of "what could be" in the future. There won't be any plans to go see my Best Friend when I visit home. Things will certainly change, for the better, now that I know the truth of my best friend's untimely departure. It will be like visiting the gravesite. Occasionally, I'll place flowers. Or maybe a tub of Kraft Easy Mac. Or candycanes. All fitting tributes.

My best friend's dead. But it was a lovely service.