“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they haveried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.
- My Sister’s Keeper
I don’t get me sometimes. When things are going well, I’m meeting objectives and everything seems to be going well I’ll sit a lone at night and cry. I never understand why. Part of it is that I can never find one person who truly understands me. Who I can turn to when I have no one else to turn to. Who can tell me that everything will be alright. Those moments when I’m weak, I get lost. I drink, I put some music and a “fake it til you make it smile” until the feeling passes. Part of it is that I lost the one girl who ever truly got me. Who saw me for all my flaws and still smiled. The search for another one has been long and boring.
The main problem is I feel as though I’m lost. I have no idea what to do. I continue to strive for excellence and though succeeding I feel hollow at the end. The great reward at the end isn’t there. To be honest, I don’t even know what that reward is. I imagine it’s happiness but so far the equation to find it has eluded me. I read, I learn, I succeed, I date and yet nothing seems to solve the equation. I question even if it was solved when I had her.
Despite this, I still have hope. I still feel I can find it. My only concern is that though I’m not medicated, I’m filling the holes in my life with an old friend: scotch. It dulls the pain that loneliness causes. My inability to find those who can understand my admittedly quirky personality. Those tics that make me me. It’s my hope that I can find that partner who can complete me. Fill those holes that are in my life.
Last night I read an excellent New Yorker article that detailed the relationship between Tyler Clementi, the gay Rutgers student who killed himself after his roommate, Dahrun Ravi, posted a video link to his sexual encounter with an older man.
The link to the story is here: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/02/06/120206fa_fact_parker
I found this story particularly good because it was unbiased. It fairly portrayed, at least I thought so, the relationship between the two and how Tyler eventually killed himself. First, I will start off by saying that I do believe Ravi was wrong. He was, in the truest sense of the word, an asshole. He was not a good person. He was, essentially, a standard insecure 18-24 year old boy. I also believe he was only responsible for Tyler’s death in the smallest possible way.
Ravi, from the story’s description, was fake popular. He was not actually popular, he only perceived himself to be. The story did not list a large amount of friends he had, only two, one of which was charged and who didn’t really like him. The story did not list a lot of extra-curricular activities or even a strong GPA. While his family was upper middle class they were not what you would call rich. While he may have associated with the “cool kids” the story did not give any indication that he was a leader.
Tyler, on the other hand, was not described as unpopular but shy. Not quite comfortable with his sexuality yet, he found solace on the internet in the form of anonymity. He had only recently came out to his parents at which, in his words, he felt abandoned. As he left high school he was coming in and exploring his sexuality. He was a lonely 18 year old with few friends and explored his sexuality through anonymous sex on the internet. This, to me, indicates low self-esteem and few outlets where he felt comfortable turning to. He had no one to vent to. His roommate was immature and uncomfortable with him, he felt abandoned by his parents and he had few close friends with whom he could confide in. Speaking from experience, this is a scary world to be in.
Now, while it is true that Ravi spied on Tyler’s sexual encounter with an anonymous older man I don’t believe this drove Tyler to suicide nor is it enough to justify the charges against Ravi. First, is this a hate crime? I would argue no. I believe Ravi’s actions were driven by jealousy that Tyler was having sex and he was not more so than any homophobia. While, yes, it is true Ravi threw around homophobic slurs regularly to his friends he never used them towards Tyler - that we know of. There’s no indication, aside from the spying, that he intimidated or bullied Tyler. The evidence points more towards a confusion with how to deal with him and a fear that doing so would invalidate his own perceptions of his coolness.
I would further argue that all reference to homophobic slurs should be ignored based on the fact it’s far too common for men under the age of 25 to do so in private. To argue that Ravi is homophobic, based on this, would be to argue that almost every guy who has ever played on a competitive sports team is homophobic. Regardless of how it is perceived in public, this is common. So much so I would’ve been more surprised had he not made these remarks. Does it make right? Debatable. There is a major difference between using these words in private and using them to publicly bash another person. To vilify Ravi for this would be hypocritical at best and unjust at worst.
Now, did Ravi’s actions make Tyler kill himself. I would argue yes and no. I do not believe that Ravi’s actions alone made Tyler kill himself. They were too small. Five seconds of spying, announcing his openly gay roommate was using his room for sex and threatening to broadcast a second encounter are not enough to make someone kill them self. However, they are enough to speed up the process. I do believe Tyler would’ve eventually killed himself, unless he got help. I am almost certain that he thought about it before. It is very rare to go from first thought to attempt, particularly in the way that he did (traveling a distance to a specific location). The more time between initial thought and attempt, the less likely the individual is to attempt. My guess is that Tyler thought about it many times before however the safety net of his family kept him from doing so. Once you remove this and throw in a traumatic incident it’s enough to push him over the edge.
This is where I believe Ravi is getting an unfair deal. Let’s be clear, he is an asshole and his actions did lead to the death of another. However, he only played a small role. I do not believe he was homophobic. I do not believe he intended for Tyler to die. I do believe he intended to hurt Tyler in some way; to cause him embarrassment. However, I also know he was 18 and did not know any better. He was thrust into a situation and assumed, most likely like everything else in his life, that he would glide through it.
The question now is what should happen to Ravi. In reality, what he did is not that uncommon in our society. It’s unfortunate that the only reason it’s brought to our attention is because someone died. Had Tyler not committed suicide it is likely that Ravi would’ve only had to pay a small fine, do 5 hours of community service and Tyler would’ve switched rooms. Now he’s facing 5-10 years in prison. Personally, I feel he was an idiot for turning down 300 hrs of community service. This is what he should do: go around to schools and tell his story. How he didn’t think through his actions and because of that someone died. How what he thought was innocent fun cost someone their life. A family their brother and son. How, because of his stupidness, the whole world will know that his actions led to the death of another. How this will affect him forever. His story could help another kid from being bullied. Hopefully this happens but for now it’s up to a jury to decide.
I made a standing bet with a friend of mine at 17 that he couldn’t identify one selfless act in the world. That we are all egotistic. That altruism is dead and a non-existent belief carried on by people with out the inclination to think for themselves. Though I haven’t lost the bet I feel I may have. You see, I may have experienced the first altruistic act. The one act where the actor has nothing to gain. She’s helped me, immensely I might add, without even knowing it while fully intending to do so.
For those of you that have been reading here for the past few months, you have no doubt concluded that I’m emotionally fucked up. No, my brain chemistry is not normal. However, while being able to analytically evaluate this conclusion from my own writing, I have not accepted this fact in my own life. In fact, I’ve done everything to avoid this fact. For admitting this fact would be to admit something is wrong with me. That I’m somehow abnormal. I couldn’t do so. I couldn’t risk the fear of others knowing. Not that I was emotionally fucked up, that I was THIS fucked up. It scared me. To quantify the conclusion that I already qualified terrified me beyond measure. I didn’t know how to deal with it.
Then came this person, who, for her own privacy, shall remain nameless, who made everything better. She explained that I wasn’t weird. That there was no reason to be afraid. That there is a cure. Whether or not she’s right or not I don’t know. However, because of her I’m seeking help. Because of her I feel normal. Because of her I no longer feel alone as if the world around me is completely different. Because of her I feel as if I have a place; a place where I can add value and not need to hide. For me, these are invaluable feelings. The feeling of normalcy from a life spent in the abnormal is one that cannot be quantified. She’s provided me with the one feeling I never thought I’d have: hope. For this, I am eternally greatful.
You see, tomorrow I am getting help. I am finally addressing the problems that are affecting me. If it wasn’t for her, for her encouragement, I would never have looked for help. I would have continued floating; wondering why I could never be happy.
Now this leaves me in an awkward position. I don’t know what to do. I know, because my mother told me so, I should say thank you but it doesn’t seem like enough. So I’m stuck. Both eternally grateful and consistently confused. My hope is, selfishly, that this post is enough. Enough to convey the gratitude I have in the impact you’ve made. In the impression you’ve left. In the fact that your impact is only the second that has left tears in my eyes as I’ve recounted it. I hope that this is enough, though, I know, personally, that it is definitely not.
Anonymous asked: On JoePa.. excuse me, but may I clarify. As an employee, like most school counties, you are not ALLOWED to go to the police in a matter. It is the school's board who has to do that, and that is JUST what JoePa did. Also... he did not KNOW about the rapings. He HEARD from another source who went to JoePa instead of the police, so why not rage about HIM, he who actually SAW the alleged rapings and did nothing? And yet JoePa, who had not seen the rapings but still went to the authorities is wrong?
Let’s get a few things straight: 1) it is the responsibility of EVERY adult to report child abuse, so no, I don’t give McQuerry a pass either. 2) do you have a reference for this law that says an employee is not allowed to report child rape? There are numerous whistle blower acts which encourage employees to report crimes and I find it hard to believe that any employee would be reprimanded for reporting child abuse to the police. So you’re first argument is both factually and logically incorrect.
To your second point, that those above him had the responsibility, I agree and find it moot. JoePa was the most powerful man in Happy Valley. Had he wanted Sandusky reported he would’ve been. Had McQuerry defied him, he most likely, though unofficially been reprimanded (evidence is the fact that McQueery has gone from graduate assistant to, I believe, Defensive Coordinator in the time after the scandal. A promotion most likely helped by his silence on the matter). So yes, I do blame JoePa. People do not last in organizations like JoePa without surrounding themselves with loyal people. I refuse to believe it was not his decision to move forward or, as he chose, not to. You are correct JoePa is not the only one to blame however, when you’re at the top, and you know, you have to take responsibility for your actions.
Don’t get me wrong, I like football. As I’m writing this today, I am watching football. I spend most of my weekends during the fall and early winter months watching football. I do this because I enjoy the game. I think it’s an amazing game. However, I’m not one of those diehards. Yes, I play fantasy but I don’t have all of the stats of every player committed to memory. If I went to a game, I would not paint my face. I don’t own any jersey’s. I’m not emotionally attached to the game outside of finding it as a highly enjoyable thing to watch on the weekends.
Today though I saw how absurd it is. Today Joe Paterno died. Joe Paterno who was the winningest coach in NCAA football history. Joe Paterno who also, for the better part of 20 years, concealed and protected a child rapist. Now it’s not that he died which alerted me to the absurdity but the reaction to the death. The general consensus was that his death was a tragedy and that the world lost a great man. When one of my favourite follows on twitter, @ameryllis, correctly pointed out that he condoned child rape she was vilified by those who only saw his football accomplishments.
Now let’s be real. This is football. Football is just a game. It is not some higher calling. It is just a game. JoePa, as he was commonly known, did not cure world hunger, build schools for impoverished children or do some amazing socially redeemable job. No, he coached football. Within this role, he failed at his primary role: to be a moral citizen and encourage the men around him to be better. He failed this when he found out a member of his staff was raping children. He failed when he forgot that his primary role as a coach was to stand up and defend those who cannot defend themselves. Most of all, he failed when he put his program and his legacy over the protection of children.
So no, I don’t believe you get a pass from condoning child rape in order to protect your legacy. This isn’t like protecting players who took bribes or even covering up a DUI. It’s not even covering up a players mistake, it’s covering up a fellow coach’s. A coach who should’ve known better. He protected this coach as he terrorized children. However, I’m sure their nightmares will be stemmed knowing that their horrors allowed many to bask in the accomplishments of others playing a sport.
First off, some news: for the most part, I’ve decided to quit drinking. Am I going to 0? No, but that’s mainly because I don’t know how to act in situations where others are drinking. However, what I am doing, is severely cutting back. No more drinking alone. No more binge drinking and no more making excuses to drink. Instead what I am doing is getting myself back into shape. I’m training again. Hard. When I feel the need to drink, I start working out. So far, this has been effective.
In doing so, for about two weeks now, I’ve come to live in my own head. I’ve had time to really look at myself and evaluate who I am. My conclusion? Severely fucked up. My first realization was that there are three “me’s”, each uniquely different. The first one is manic me. I love him. Nothing bothers him, he’s on top of the ball, he’s running around, kicking ass and taking names. He’s unbeatable or at least he feels he is. He’s confident, cool, calm and charming. The second one is in the middle. He’s neutral. He’s happy, organized and effective. He’s a great guy. He’ll give you the shirt off your back and help you with any problem you may have. He’s kind, considerate and sweet. The third me is the worst. He’s the small me. He consistently has low energy, is always tired and feels as if no one cares. He’s needy, desperate for positive attention and wants, most of all, someone to hug him and tell him that it’s going to be all right. Luckily, as a defence mechanism, John 1 protects John 3. When John 3 is really down, John 1 will make brief appearances to pick him up.
It’s a dilemma that I know how to solve, I just don’t want to. The problem is, the only person who can solve this dilemma is John 1 and he doesn’t want to because he thinks everything is aces. John 2 can’t because he doesn’t see a problem. John 3? Well he desperately wants to but is terrified to admit the truth and lacks the life skills to step forward. Worse, he sabotages many of the things John 1&2 put together.
Had a dream I was king, I woke up still King
- Eminem, Lighters Up
The times in my life where I’ve truly been happy have always been when I’ve competed. I thrive on competition. It’s not even the wining that drives me. It’s the pushing of myself. In fact, winning has always been a secondary function. I’ve never been upset I’ve lost unless, of course, I made a foreseeable error. I can never forgive myself for these and am unnecessarily hard on myself when I make them. In fact, my happiest moments have occurred when I’ve lost (though my most pleasurable have been from victory). There’s an incredible calm that comes over you when you think to yourself, “I gave it my all and lost.” Why? Well, at least for me, I enjoyed analyzing where my best wasn’t good enough. I felt these opportunities gave myself the best opportunity to learn. I also had no problem smiling, walking to my opponent and shaking their hand congratulating them on their victory.
I also knew one other thing. For them to beat me, they had to be better than me. You see, I hate to lose, Though I love defeat, as it presents a learning opportunity, I still hate to lose. I would do anything to avoid it (except cheat, I love self improvement and you can’t find your weaknesses if you cheat). The one, and in my mind only, advantage to suicidal thoughts are that they allow you to know your limit. They allow you to look at situations and say, “I can push farther”. I can get myself to the point, in some instances, to say I’d rather die than fail. Personally, I see this as an advantage. I know I can push myself harder. I know I can break you. At my lowest point I have stared death in the face and, frankly, I’m not even close to that. Are you?
To be honest with you, I would say most people would answer that question, “no”. There’s a natural fear that kicks in with most people. Me, I’ve seen the worst. There are no external feelings that can be worse than the internal feelings I’ve already felt. I’m willing to work harder, to push myself farther in order to accomplish a task. When push comes to shove, I’m willing to say “fuck it, let’s roll the dice.” I know of my absolute down side. I know my limit. To me, this gives me an advantage. It’s one I’ve used in the past and will be one I’ll use in the future.
Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds
It’s like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me- Eminem, Stan
I don’t cut myself. Never have, never will. It’s not in my personality type to ever do so. I am too self conscious about my body to every scar it in that way. However, I can understand the mindset that leads to this type of behaviour. Depression is a weird motherfucker. Every episode is different. If you haven’t experienced it, it’s not something you can truly understand though I’ll do my best to try and explain it to you.
For me, it’s never been a physical pain. I’ve never felt any physical symptoms from it. I’ve never felt nausea or weird aches and pains. For me, it’s always an extreme lack of motivation. I would go days without eating, without doing anything. Where looking at a computer monitor felt like too much of a task. Eating was a challenge. I would sleep for hours and watch movies to try and cheer myself up. If you imagine happiness as a bar, I would be at zero. I would do anything I could to try and fill it. Mainly, trying to wait it out; killing time. Knowing the moment would pass. Some days would be filled with TV shows, porn and drinking.
It’s difficult to explain the need to feel anything. I never necessarily felt sad but a level of apathy that’s not normal. You feel like nothing is worth it. You’ll do anything to feel pleasure, not happiness but pleasure. You’ll find the most extreme porn, manipulate any sexual partner, drink more expensive alcohol, buy better clothes or gamble more money. The worse I felt, the more I gambled. I needed that rush. Win or lose, I needed to feel something. To know that life was still worth living.
Why? Why at 17 can you gamble thousands of dollars without a second thought? Well, for a few reasons. One, you realize you don’t need any money because your parents will bail you out. Second, because you need to feel something. You know if you don’t do it, what thoughts will happen. Those thoughts of why should I live? You keep telling yourself you want to live but you need a reason. So you push the envelope hoping to hit that adrenaline rush. Then you hope that rush is enough to carry you over to the point where you no longer feel it’s not worth it.
Those thoughts are the worse. They scare you beyond belief. They’re not normal. Every highway, you push it to 180 both for the rush and not caring what the result is. Every bridge you think, what if? You will do anything to end the hopelessness. I imagine once you run out of the ability to create rushes, you end it. I know this because I’ve been there. I was a day or two away at most. Luckily, I was pulled out of it. However, at least emotionally, though not physically, I’ve found out how much I bleed.
Could you be, the most beautiful girl in the world.
It’s plain to see. You’re the reason God made a girl.
- Prince
I fell in love once. I’ve liked many girls before and since but I’ve only fallen in love once. She was amazing. It wasn’t that she was hot, which she was, or that she was smart, which she also was. It was that every second I saw her, talked to her or listened to her I was happy. Every single second I had a smile on my face that could not and, to this day, can not be replicated. It’s that every night I went to bed, after she wished me sweetest dreams, I woke up happy. It’s why, 6 months later, I still haven’t gotten over her.
She wasn’t normal. She’s a business woman. However, while most business women move with purpose, directly to where they need to go, she moved with whimsy, observing and admiring everything around her. She could talk as openly and as passionately about the existential existence of love just as easy as she could about the P&L of her family’s business. She drank scotch and held her position with purpose. She challenged my most core beliefs and made me re-evaluate and improve upon them. Most of all, she cared. With every fibre of her being, she cared. She, more than anyone, more than me, wanted me to succeed. She believed in me and, to date, is the only person who has made me cry both tears of joy and sadness.
She didn’t just believe in me as is. She believed, and still believes, in the me of tomorrow. Of my potential. She sees where I can go and pushes me to achieve those goals. She supports me. She’s also the only one with the ability to truly make me believe that more is possible. Every second I get with her time I’m grateful for because, in reality, it’s been the only time in my life where I was happy.
She’s why now I’m so picky with other women. If they can’t make me feel like she did then why bother? I’m only setting myself up for regret. She showed me a kindness I had never seen before. That I’ve never seen since. An openness I’ve tried to learn from. She believed in whimsy and magic even though she was schooled in the hard realities of life. Though she wasn’t perfect, she was perfect for me. An ideal I didn’t know existed that was snatched away by, what I consider, archaic cultural beliefs. Still, there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think of her. Where I don’t love her. To me, she’s still the most beautiful girl in the world and I still cry when writing about her.
There’s an old adage that it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile. Now, while I have no idea at the actual scientific accuracy of this statement I feel it to be false for one simple reason: it takes 43 muscles to smile. This is every muscle in the face. No, I’m not talking about raising the corners of your mouth up, anyone can do that. I’m talking about actually smiling. You see, more than anything, you smile with your eyes. They become wider and more expansive as you become happier. You smile with your chest and shoulders as you stand up straighter. In fact, your whole body changes as your body adapts to being happy.
I mention this because it’s been the one thing I’ve never been able to fake. Further, I’ve never met anyone who could. To m,e the eyes and the mouth were always the dead giveaway. The mouth because it was too tight. The smiler is fearful someone will realize they’re not actually happy so they stretch the smile farther than they should. The eyes, well, because you can just tell with them. You can see the sadness in them. You can see them focusing on either appearing to be happy or on not being sad. If it’s the former, they’re probably smiling to cover up stress, anger or frustration. If it’s the latter, than what you’re seeing is depression. Watch for it.
For about 12 years I’ve been trying to smile effectively. The best ones I get are when I think back to specific moments and stay in them for that short period of time. I haven’t figured out a way to live in the now and have an effective smile. I don’t think it can be done. Even with my best efforts and a lot of practice whenever I see myself in pictures all I see is sadness (unless, of course, I’m actually happy at the time :)). This is why, more than anything else, I hate to have my picture taken. I hate it even more if I’m down and often will outright refuse. Even with a decade of practice, I still can’t perfectly control those 43 muscles.
