Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Distracted Holidays
I've been back in reno for a few nights now from my trip on the mighty cruise ship the Ooesterdam. Since being back I have had to do some serious thinking about my life. Which isn't anything new, as that seems like all I do. Mostly I'm just disappointed in a lot of things in my life. When you are on a cruise ship and the room you get, on a freaking boat, is larger than the room you live in, it sort of starts to put life into perspective a little.
Something that became clear while I was on vacation was that the less I cared about what other people thought of me, the better I felt about life. I may come across as a crass jackass sometimes, or perhaps just as a silent, possibly annoyed, figure on the periphery of your perception. Maybe I come across as a clown, or a cynic, or an optimist, or a kind gentle person, or as the type of person that would throw you throw a plate glass window if it suited my needs. I'm not saying I see myself as any of those types. But I have come to realize that I can't control how other people see me. Not at all. All I can do is get annoyed at myself as coming across glib/unremarkable/annoying/insane/boring/insane again. So in a weird way a vacation was apparently what I needed to understand that it just doesn't matter. I can't do anything about it. Be myself and let the chips fall. It sounds like the theme of an afternoon special. It takes a little more than cartoons to make a notion such as that really sink in, though.
Not to say it's completely sunk in. I still think of myself sometimes in terms of how others see me. Honestly, I don't know if anyone ever really gets over that part of their self. Maybe you want to be seen as someone more successful than you are. Maybe you want to appear more religious than you really feel. Maybe you want to make sure that no one that serves you, in a restaurant or store or what have you, think of you as someone who thinks of their self as being better than them. These are all things I've done. There is this strange urge sometimes to try to make other people see you in a certain light. It can't always be done. The smallest slip and the whole charade is up. But we keep it up because if we can get some people to see us in the way we want them to see us it can make our lives a lot better. But is it worth it?
Today, for the first time ever, I lied on a resume. I took off a few jobs that didn't seem to be helping me and added in a job to fill in the blanks. Complete bullshit, that other job was. But believable and somewhat hard to prove that I never actually held it. I've heard so many people say that they only got a job here or a job there because they made something up on their resume. And if everyone is doing it, it can't be that bad, right? But why is it that we are punished for telling the truth? Yes, I've worked many jobs. Some for very short periods of time. I have an odd resume. But I'm intelligent, I'm capable of learning how to do many new things, I work hard and almost every employer I've ever had has asked me to stay on and keep working for them when I told them I was quitting. But when I put that into a resume it gets nothing. I'm interested to see if the ones I've lied on get more people to bite on them. I'm also interested to see if I decide not to get hired under false pretense. I talked to someone this week and said "I've always felt that I was above lying on a resume." And he said "so did I, until I couldn't get a job, and then I lied and got a job." Do I want to be that guy? Only principled until I feel it would suit my purposes better to not be? I don't think I can do it. I mean, in a way I've already done it, since I made up the job today. What seperates me from taking that job when I've given someone the impression I'm someone I'm not from someone that lies straight to your face in order to con you out of money? (Also, sorry for so many uses of the word "someone" in that last sentence.) I've broken my share of laws in my day but I don't know that I've ever really flat out lied to someone to get what I want. Maybe thats why I still have no job. Maybe thats why I have no girlfriend. Maybe thats why I might always be living in a place smaller than a room on a boat. A big part of me would much rather have nothing than have everything at the cost of the one shred of dignity and integrity I have left in this world.
Maybe this is why I'm so drawn to writing fiction. Its the one time I can write bald-faced lies and its okay. People know its a lie. People want it to be a lie. They want it to be fake and they want that shred of truth to come out of the lie. Its a dance, writing fiction, telling just enough of the truth in the face of one big, long lie. How can I honestly write fiction if my own life is a fiction? My life may not be great. But I have what I need. Friends, family, enough money to get by day to day, a dream, a few goals, and nothing stopping me from trying to live a life that still has some truth to it.
Okay, I'll grant you, I am not perfect. I have told lies. I have made things up to get out of situations. But aside from lying to my parents about where I was the night before when I was in high school I can't think of any time I have told a lie to get ahead. And granted I've never really gotten ahead. But I spend enough time with myself not particularly liking myself to add more reasons to dislike myself to the list. I may end up being some loser that could never get his life together, but I'd much rather be an honest loser than a dishonest man with a fortune at his feet.
Something that became clear while I was on vacation was that the less I cared about what other people thought of me, the better I felt about life. I may come across as a crass jackass sometimes, or perhaps just as a silent, possibly annoyed, figure on the periphery of your perception. Maybe I come across as a clown, or a cynic, or an optimist, or a kind gentle person, or as the type of person that would throw you throw a plate glass window if it suited my needs. I'm not saying I see myself as any of those types. But I have come to realize that I can't control how other people see me. Not at all. All I can do is get annoyed at myself as coming across glib/unremarkable/annoying/insane/boring/insane again. So in a weird way a vacation was apparently what I needed to understand that it just doesn't matter. I can't do anything about it. Be myself and let the chips fall. It sounds like the theme of an afternoon special. It takes a little more than cartoons to make a notion such as that really sink in, though.
Not to say it's completely sunk in. I still think of myself sometimes in terms of how others see me. Honestly, I don't know if anyone ever really gets over that part of their self. Maybe you want to be seen as someone more successful than you are. Maybe you want to appear more religious than you really feel. Maybe you want to make sure that no one that serves you, in a restaurant or store or what have you, think of you as someone who thinks of their self as being better than them. These are all things I've done. There is this strange urge sometimes to try to make other people see you in a certain light. It can't always be done. The smallest slip and the whole charade is up. But we keep it up because if we can get some people to see us in the way we want them to see us it can make our lives a lot better. But is it worth it?
Today, for the first time ever, I lied on a resume. I took off a few jobs that didn't seem to be helping me and added in a job to fill in the blanks. Complete bullshit, that other job was. But believable and somewhat hard to prove that I never actually held it. I've heard so many people say that they only got a job here or a job there because they made something up on their resume. And if everyone is doing it, it can't be that bad, right? But why is it that we are punished for telling the truth? Yes, I've worked many jobs. Some for very short periods of time. I have an odd resume. But I'm intelligent, I'm capable of learning how to do many new things, I work hard and almost every employer I've ever had has asked me to stay on and keep working for them when I told them I was quitting. But when I put that into a resume it gets nothing. I'm interested to see if the ones I've lied on get more people to bite on them. I'm also interested to see if I decide not to get hired under false pretense. I talked to someone this week and said "I've always felt that I was above lying on a resume." And he said "so did I, until I couldn't get a job, and then I lied and got a job." Do I want to be that guy? Only principled until I feel it would suit my purposes better to not be? I don't think I can do it. I mean, in a way I've already done it, since I made up the job today. What seperates me from taking that job when I've given someone the impression I'm someone I'm not from someone that lies straight to your face in order to con you out of money? (Also, sorry for so many uses of the word "someone" in that last sentence.) I've broken my share of laws in my day but I don't know that I've ever really flat out lied to someone to get what I want. Maybe thats why I still have no job. Maybe thats why I have no girlfriend. Maybe thats why I might always be living in a place smaller than a room on a boat. A big part of me would much rather have nothing than have everything at the cost of the one shred of dignity and integrity I have left in this world.
Maybe this is why I'm so drawn to writing fiction. Its the one time I can write bald-faced lies and its okay. People know its a lie. People want it to be a lie. They want it to be fake and they want that shred of truth to come out of the lie. Its a dance, writing fiction, telling just enough of the truth in the face of one big, long lie. How can I honestly write fiction if my own life is a fiction? My life may not be great. But I have what I need. Friends, family, enough money to get by day to day, a dream, a few goals, and nothing stopping me from trying to live a life that still has some truth to it.
Okay, I'll grant you, I am not perfect. I have told lies. I have made things up to get out of situations. But aside from lying to my parents about where I was the night before when I was in high school I can't think of any time I have told a lie to get ahead. And granted I've never really gotten ahead. But I spend enough time with myself not particularly liking myself to add more reasons to dislike myself to the list. I may end up being some loser that could never get his life together, but I'd much rather be an honest loser than a dishonest man with a fortune at his feet.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Sunday, December 07, 2008
I Don't know what I'm Thinking
I could seriously listen to Mephistopheles' Return by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra for hours on end, day after day. I have no idea why I love it so much. Somedays I'll turn on my itunes and just listen to it over and over and type out the lyrics to the song as it plays. Mostly I do this when I am trying to write and have a bit o' the writers block.
The winter months, for most, seem to be a time to just settle into a rut and sort of run out the clock till spring. Perhaps because I am opposed to outdoor activities most of the year I have found that the winter is the best time for me. I read more, I get more done, I focus my attention on a goal more actively. Last winter I tried to learn the piano. And I would have too, had it not been for that meddling sun starting to again and my mood shifted towards self-preservation and not self-improvement. A lot of people get depressed in the winter. Is it so crazy that some of us would get depressed during the rest of the year? There has got to be more people out there, other than just me, or see the winter as a time of renewal and the spring as the end of that season. Honestly I have no idea why it is that I feel so much better in the winter. But I fucking love it. Nothing invigorates me more than a nice chill when I jump out of bed in the morning.
Yesterday I spoke to an old professor of mine for a little while. We were going over stories for my writing sample for grad school. We did this in truly nerd fashion, with both of us sitting in a coffee shop reading the stories off of macbooks. Yes, I said I'd bring the hardcopies of the stories and didn't get them printed out. Still, I had to laugh at the image of us. "Who needs paper? We have fucking macbooks, man." Perhaps it is the way of the future. Perhaps we were just being green and not wasting precious tree resources on useless copies. Or perhaps we are just nerds.
The winter months, for most, seem to be a time to just settle into a rut and sort of run out the clock till spring. Perhaps because I am opposed to outdoor activities most of the year I have found that the winter is the best time for me. I read more, I get more done, I focus my attention on a goal more actively. Last winter I tried to learn the piano. And I would have too, had it not been for that meddling sun starting to again and my mood shifted towards self-preservation and not self-improvement. A lot of people get depressed in the winter. Is it so crazy that some of us would get depressed during the rest of the year? There has got to be more people out there, other than just me, or see the winter as a time of renewal and the spring as the end of that season. Honestly I have no idea why it is that I feel so much better in the winter. But I fucking love it. Nothing invigorates me more than a nice chill when I jump out of bed in the morning.
Yesterday I spoke to an old professor of mine for a little while. We were going over stories for my writing sample for grad school. We did this in truly nerd fashion, with both of us sitting in a coffee shop reading the stories off of macbooks. Yes, I said I'd bring the hardcopies of the stories and didn't get them printed out. Still, I had to laugh at the image of us. "Who needs paper? We have fucking macbooks, man." Perhaps it is the way of the future. Perhaps we were just being green and not wasting precious tree resources on useless copies. Or perhaps we are just nerds.
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