...More Weekly Musings
Let's take another rummage through my head whilst listening to the song “Enjoy The Ride" by The 502s - https://youtu.be/AXOcV2XzIAk
Darkness & Void
It’s been three days without electricity in the area where I reside. The week before we went six days without any power supply. Two streets down the power supply remains steady. Anytime I take a stroll or go out for an errand, I am confronted with the realization that I live in a place where darkness abounds, and despite being in the same temporal space as most people, some of them don’t.
I believe this is indicative of how messed up life can be. On the one end, I can be engulfed in total emotional darkness; fighting each day to find a little glimpse of hopeful light. On the other hand, two streets down, another person could be soaked in the warmth of emotional bliss —or so I’d like to think. Truthfully, I hate having to describe my emotional turmoil as “darkness” because it implies there’s something inherently bad about it. There isn’t.
Nevertheless, if I were to take the Bible literally, then before anything else, there was darkness. Even naturalists (evolutionists) would admit to the universe being a dark void before the Big Bang. So, maybe darkness isn’t as dreary as our emotions on bad days would want us to believe. Maybe this dark period of my life is a sign of a new birth —a new universe of randomness and bliss— to come. Or maybe I’m just talking out of my ass.
Envy & Lust
I envy a lot of people. I envy the sort of lives most live. I’m a sort of “face-value” guy. Yeah, I tend to want to think deeper about stuff but most times I’d rather just accept the appearance of mundane things than question it. This means when I see posts of exotic locales and fine dining on most of your Instagram posts, I really do believe you must be having the time of your life. I see the smiles the camera captures and I’m very convinced that you’re at your happiest. And I envy that.
I want to be able to take pictures with warm smiles that make everyone else wish they had my life. I want to be vain enough to buy luxury items just to pretend I was caught unawares by my friends and then post these pictures with seemingly pretentious captions like “Unawares pictures are the best.” I want to take trips to locations where I can meet other people taking trips and then feign a bond with them so we can be social media buddies tagging and liking each other’s posts.
I am unable to do any of these though. I am too poor and broke. Also, the thing I said about being a sort of “face-value” guy, well, I lied. I am too self-absorbed in thinking that everyone else must be hiding some hidden pain in their snapshots on social media to be ever truly happy. I spend most days avoiding Instagram because I am often too hyper-aware of how deeply envious I can be. Envious enough to imagine darkness behind the bright smiles just so I can make my own miserable life feel less so.
I think there might even be some sort of sexual satisfaction that comes with this feeling. The lust of envy. The feeling of excitement that comes from believing that no matter how perfect the social media appearance of another person is, they most likely are dealing with something just as numbing as the pain that I feel. Yes, that’s my kind of envy and lust. One where I need to believe everyone else is getting the shorter end of the stick when it comes to life and its many pains.
Stories & Lies
In the past week alone I’ve written three short stories. It’s a record for me. It’s been about a month since my last short story and even longer than the one before. I tend to need to be inspired to write. I have always been comfortable with this arrangement but then I read novelist, poet, and playwright May Sarton’s words about talent and I opted to be more proactive about inspiration rather than reactive to it. This meant no more waiting for the inspiration to write, instead finding ways to write to be inspired.
This is my first week with that sort of mentality and it seems like it works. I am not optimistic though. If I know anything about my ability to write, it is that these bursts of inspiration —whether proactively sought or reactively given— never last. And in all honesty, I am old enough to make peace with this. I try my hardest to never write stuff I can’t read back and feel a little better about myself. This does not mean I only write good stuff. Nay. In fact, the editors at Brittle Paper would tell you differently. (They’ve probably rejected five of my short stories this year alone.)
I guess in my own way, what others might consider as bad writing, I see as successfully completed works. My idea of good writing is simply one that I can successfully complete. It doesn’t matter to me if the story feels less ingenuous or creatively nuanced (Brittle Paper Editors, I see you). What matters is that I am able to finish that stream of ideas in my head; that I am able to completely let go of the demons whispering such literal concoctions inside me. My first published book came to fruition in this same way. It was some sort of exorcism.
And who knows, maybe I can keep up the intensity and continue to write more short stories. All it takes is a little lie mixed with some truth from either my life or that of others. Stories are never as novel as we writers often claim them to be.
Most times stories are just truthful lies we tell others to ensure we can survive another day dealing with the torture of our own existence.
I hope I am able to write more. I always feel a sense of joy when I complete a story. I really need more joyful moments in my life.
And that’s about it…
I hope you are able to find more joyful moments in your life too. I hope this new week allows you to feel nothing more soothing than the kindness of your own existence. More importantly, I hope there is light [read: NEPA light] in your area for this new week.
Some of us might be in darkness for the foreseeable future, sadly.
Cheers!