Faults, Follies, and A New Year

I never really know how to feel about things like the coming of a new year, or my birthday. Both simply mark the passing of another year. I suppose in some way this makes these days significant. But personally, I can't stop myself from thinking that both are just another day, and when I wake up that morning I'm not in fact a year older but another day older. Each new day is just that, a new day. Life doesn't care what calendar year it is. Each day doesn't care how old we are, or as we said when we were young "how many" we are.

If I had 23 digits I would still say, "I'm this many." Proudly holding up whatever 23 digits I had do display my age when someone inquired about that number. But that is completely irrelevant.

To quote Akron/Family: "Last year was a hard year for such a long time. This year's gonna be ours."

The first half of that phrase has a particularly painful level of truth for me as we reach the end of our calendar this time around. But I'm going to do my best to make sure that the second half has a particularly exciting level of truth in the coming year. I intend to really take ownership of my life this coming year. I am going to take back the control that I lost, and I am going to use each day as an opportunity to make progress toward being the man I should be.

I suppose, for me at least, that's about the only reason I still celebrate the new year, or my birthday, at all, because they provide us with a (relatively arbitrary) reference point to use as motivation to make the future better.

There's no real reason that the end of December 31, and beginning of Jan 1 each year should provide us with any further motivation to be a better person in the future than the end of any day that ends in "y" and the beginning of the next. I can't explain why the change of the calendar year, or adding one more to our "this many" makes us rethink the way we're living any more than any other time of year. But it does, so I'll just accept that. I won't be making any new year's resolutions this year, just as I haven't for at least the last five if not longer.

However this year I'm going to make what I guess I'll call a "Y" resolution. On any day that ends in "Y" I am going to put in the effort to be a better me than I was on the previous day.

I know there will be days where I screw this up. But on the bright side, when I screw up that just makes it easier to fulfill the resolution the next day. There's no excuse to give up on this one, because each day the goal is different. Each day is a new day, and a new opportunity to get it right. Each day will provide me with a new and interesting challenge. There's no reason to get bored with this one. My schedule can't get too busy to be a better person than I was the day before. (Although it will probably get too busy to stick to any sort of diet and exercise plan that might add muscle mass to my body.)

Another plus side to the "Y" resolution is there's not a specific quantity that can be attached to it. There's no way to say I'm going to be five units better of a human being, like people say when they resolve to use five pounds. The only measuring stick is the previous day, and no matter how big or small the step, any step towards being a better man is progress.

The other thing about the "Y" resolution is that it isn't connected to any calendar year. This isn't something I intend to do only in 2010, nor is it something I stop on New Year's any time in the future. This is something I'm committing myself to do until I don't have any more days that end in "Y" to try.

I am going to be me, and become a better me, and I think that's all we can ask of any human being.

So I'll leave you with some lyrics and a link to a fan video on youtube that will show you the lyrics to a song that I'm sure will become a bit of an anthem for me in this pursuit. (Catch the link at the end of the post)

"When I was young the smallest trick of light could catch my eye.

Then life was new and every new day I thought that I could fly.

I believed in what I hoped for, and I hoped in things unseen.

I had wings and dreams could soar. I just don't feel like flying anymore.

When the stars threw down their spears, watered heaven with their tears,

Before words were spoken, before eternity.

Dear Father, I need you.

Your strength my heart to mend.

I want to fly higher every new day again.

When I was small the furthest I could reach was not so high.

Then I thought the world was so much smaller, feeling that I could fly.

Through the distant deeps and skies, beyond infinity,

below the face of heaven, he stoops to create me.

Dear Father, I need you.

Your strength my heart to mend.

I want to fly higher every new day again.

Man versus himself

Man versus machine

Man versus the world

Mankind versus me

The struggles go on

The wisdom I lack

The burdens keep piling

up on my back

So hard to breathe

to take the next step

The mountain is high

I wait in the depths

Yearning for grace

and hoping for peace

Dear God,

Increase.

Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again.

Jesus Christ, light of the world burning bright within our hearts forever.

Freedom means love without condition, without beginning or an end.

Here's my heart, let it be forever yours

Only you can make every new day seem so new."

- Five Iron Frenzy: Every New Day

No Working Title Ch. 2 The Grinch who knew the Mob

I would like to make it clear that I understand now, and understood at the time, that this was quite possibly the most ridiculous idea one could ever come up with. How the hell is an individual supposed to put out a contract on themself? It would really defeat the purpose to know who was going to execute the hit, because if I knew when and where it was coming I'd avoid it. That's what got me in this situation in the first place, I don't have the strength of will to die at a specific place or time. The point of putting out the contract is to end it, but not to know how, where, when, or who is going to end it.

Finding a way to put out a contract on my own life, without actually knowing anything about where the information was going was a far more difficult challenge than I expected. Much like the Grinch I puzzled three hours, till my puzzler was sore. Then I thought of something I hadn't thought of before. Maybe, I didn't need to get the information directly to hitmen at all. If I just got the information in the hands of people with connections in the criminal underground the information would spread itself, right? I mean I am wealthy enough that I can make the incentive worth anyone's time. My grandparents had died long ago, cancer got two, heart attack another, and the last was a severe complication due to diabetes. My parents had died in a car crash two years ago. So I had it all, all the family wealth was mine. My family had enough to motivate any criminal.

So I got a friend to tattoo some text on my thigh. This text included an address, a locker number, and a combination. My friend knew me to be just eccentric enough that some crazy explanation of the tattoo got him to stop asking questions. I don't really remember what it was because part of the explanation was being drunk when I made him do it. I'm also pretty sure that paying him ten times his normal rate was a pretty solid reason to shut up and do the ink.

Then there was the matter of getting the information to someone who could pass it along to the criminal underground. This was the hard part. Until I remembered the pastor at my church was doing prison ministry and had asked the congregation if there was anyone willing to go and pray with inmates.

So the following Sunday, I spoke with my pastor. That Tuesday we went to the prison, and my pastor reminded me that the guys in here were in for some pretty big crimes. The guys I'd be praying with were murderers, big time drug dealers, and some of the top dogs in their gangs. "Perfect", I thought to myself.

So I prayed with a few of these guys, doing my part to serve to downtrodden. But there was one guy the pastor had told me was new to the ministry, and new to the prison. I figured his connections were fresh, and he would be my best bet to get a message out of this prison. So when I prayed with him, I passed along the word. "Kill James Kremer and you'll find a tattoo leading you to the location of his will on his thigh, and that will passes everything along to the person who possesses it after his death. The first to kill James Kremer gets all the Kremer wealth, and the wealth would all be passed along with complete secrecy."

Now I had done a good job of not being photographed by the press for years, so this guy had no idea that I was James Kremer. But he knew who that was, and knew I was passing along a big piece of information. He made it clear that the word would be spread.

Now I knew that word would be spread to his crew first, and might take some time to get out to other gangs. But I knew it would, with time. People who are willing to kill for the right price, are willing to share a secret for the right price too. But more importantly, people who won't kill at any price who got this information could only profit by selling the information at any price. And every gang has it's sissies, or at least that's what I was banking on.

So now all I had to do was wait. I didn't know how long, nor who I was waiting for, nor what I was waiting for. Perfect, exactly what I wanted.

Now as you may or may not know, those in the throes of anxiety and depression aren't really apt to think all that clearly, nor are they apt to really think through all the possibilities. I was aware of this and thought I had done a damn good job of running through the possible scenarios which could result from this action. I missed one very important thing. This detail would in fact change the whole game, this perfect world that I had devised got flipped on its head due to this one missing detail.

Paranoia is a common symptom for those with depression and anxiety. My depression had never manifested itself this way, I never had any delusions of persecution, nor was I irrationally suspicious. However, now I didn't need to be delusional. I had given myself cause to feel persecuted, and suspicious, and those chemicals in my head took those feelings and ran with them. I became extremely paranoid, which I should have expected because extremes beget extremes.

My paranoia got so strong that I became suspicious of everyone I saw, everyday, everywhere. Waiting for the first attempt, the paranoia only grew. It grew to the point that I actually started planning how to thwart attempts on my life.

Never was good at planning things...

No Working Title Ch. 1 Loss of Purpose

It's interesting how a loss of all sense of purpose in ones life can lead to something so defined, something so meaningful.

But in order to understand what's happening now you must understand the string of events that lead to all of this. None of this is reasonable. That being said, all of this is very real. One lesson I've learned is that, without fail, extremes beget extremes. If Einstein can define insanity his own way then I will do so as well. Insanity is the expectation that one extreme will result in calm, in peace, or in anything "normal."

Extremes beget extremes, and my life has been nothing if not extreme for the last three years. The extremes really began to foreshadow themselves earlier than that, but all will be explained in its own time. As exciting as it would be to start telling this story with what left me bruised and bloodied today, none of that will make any sense without at least some of the boring back-story.

So I'll hit you with the boring back-story starting... now:

I was born a healthy baby to a wealthy family. We're talking three obnoxiously large houses wealthy, because clearly one isn't enough. One must also have a summer vacation home on the beach, and a winter vacation home in the mountains conveniently located near natural hot springs. Yeah, my family is "that" family. One of those family's whose last name invokes a reaction of reverence, fear, and conspiracy theories as to how we get into college.

Other than the money, I had a normal Midwestern upbringing. I wasn't spoiled, which is fairly unbelievable. I worked the same summer jobs as any teenager: caddied at the local country club, worked at Best Buy, and even did a summer of rough carpentry. My family taught me that work was what got us what we had, and would be the only way to maintain what we had. They also taught me that Sundays were for church, and a nice family dinner.

Throughout school I was a good kid. I got in some trouble, but only got detention once and to quote my explanation to my parents it was "totally bogus." The main fact to focus on for this story is that I was smart. I hate to say good things about myself, because I don't ever want to be perceived as thinking I'm better than anyone else. But when you've had a 4.0 your entire academic career, I think it's fair to refer to oneself as smart. I was also involved in many extra-curricular activities: band, choir, soccer, theater, and track. I did well in all of those, was outstanding in one: theater.

But now I'm rambling and this is the boring part. So let's skip to college and if I missed any important parts of the boring part I'll come back to it later.

College...

Supposed to be the best years of one's life, or at least that's what Hollywood leads us to believe. I decided to study rocket science. No joke, that's what I chose to do, Aerospace Engineering. I went to one of the top schools in the country for my major, and the papers said it was my last name that got me in. That didn't bother me, I knew it had more to do with my 4.0 than anything else.

The first hints of the extremes I've just climbed out of, that resulted in the extreme I'm living out now, happened during undergrad. But the details on that will come later, much later.

Then came grad school. I decided I wanted to get involved in the cutting edge of rocket science, which in any engineering field means research work. In order to do research work, one must get an advanced degree or two. So I applied and something, maybe my name, hopefully my resume, got me in to the top school at the time M.I.T. Yes, the M.I.T. The same M.I.T that invents things for NASA on a regular basis, and that was where I would continue my studies. Not only that, but I'd gotten an offer to work in the research group of Dr. Samuel R. Green.

Dr. Green was a big deal to say the least. He was the leading researcher in the world when it came to structural optimization, and materials. He'd worked with composite materials, self-healing plastics, and analytical methods for structural optimization just to list a few. If he wasn't the person who invented the field of research he was working in, he would eventually redefine it with a new discovery or invention. This very same Dr. Green wanted me to work with him. No pressure there, no pressure at all.

Upon my arrival a year and a half ago Dr. Green assigned me to a project that had already caused two graduate students before me to quit without earning their PhD. The project had never really gotten beyond the fetal stages of development, but was too important to the current line of research to leave by the wayside. No pressure there, no pressure at all.

Four years before starting graduate school I experienced the first hints that I had inherited a certain chemical imbalance known to run in the family. However, with the proper treatment I was able to get past it without too much trouble.

But upon moving to M.I.T. the anxiety and depression, the chemicals took over my life. The extreme to which this would be true didn't become clear until after my first year. But for know the important thing is that these chemicals in my brain left me completely without purpose. I had no desire to continue my studies. All my passion for Aerospace anything had left me, even theater was less appealing. Nothing gave me any reason to keep going, because the chemicals had taken over my brain.

Simply put, I wanted to die.

But I didn't have the courage to end it. I couldn't bring myself to put knife to wrist. That of course made it worse. The chemicals planted thoughts in my head: "How useless are you? You can't even end it... You don't deserve to see another day... You're only a burden to those around you, they'll be relieved of that when you're gone." These thoughts grew and grew, until I had the least reasonable thought of my entire life, and that's what brought back my focus.

"If you don't have the balls to end yourself, get someone who knows how to kill to do it for you. Hire someone. Get a hit-man to end it. Put out a contract on your own life."

Faults, Follies, and Blaming the Whole for the Mistakes of the Parts

Like I said, I think a lot. A LOT.

Another thing on my mind recently is the human tendency to blame an organization as an entity for the mistakes made by individuals who happen to be members of that organization.

This is like blaming all Americans for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, when those who had any real power to affect that are individuals in government (and not even all our elected officials had the power to affect this either).

This is blaming the entire U.S. military for things like Abu Ghraib.

This is blaming all Muslims for the actions of militant extremists.

This is blaming all Christians for the Crusades, for the extreme intolerant views of individuals who claim Christianity as their religion.

The fact that there are individuals within any organization that are not very good representatives of that organization is no reason to discount that organization. The violent actions of historical Christians is not, in and of itself, a valid reason to reject Christianity. To use a very poor argumentative structure to prove a point I'll reduce this logic to it's bare bones and point out its flaws: If the logic being followed is choosing not to be a Christian because of the bad things Christians have done throughout history, the real conclusion of this logic (in the extreme, admittedly) is that we must choose not to be human, because of the atrocious things humans have done throughout history. So, suicide for everyone?

This is why blaming an organization for the actions of a small number of its members is not a reasonable practice. Particularly when it comes to religion, because none of us can really claim to be a perfect example of what our religion says we should be. Honest religious people must admit that they are simply living out the pursuit of being what they should be, and are not currently what they should be.

I am not currently the man I should be, but I'm working on it.

As in any large organization, especially in one where individuals can obtain positions of power (I'll cite Cardinal Richelieu as a famous example), if a particularly corrupt person happens to gain that power the organization will suffer from extreme misrepresentation. Christianity, Islam, and many other organizations have suffered from this many times throughout history. I doubt many Christians would hold up the conversion tactics of the Spanish conquistadors as exemplary of their beliefs. Nor would (in my estimation) Muslims hold up the actions/statements of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, or of those the American media labels 'extremists' as exemplary of theirs.

As difficult as it may be we must consider these types of situations as they really are. They are the actions of flawed individuals. We must understand that even those in positions of religious leadership are still human and will make mistakes. We must understand that a religious organization is a collection of humans who all make mistakes. It is not fair to judge the religion itself based upon the actions of the flawed people who are trying to pursue its values. No matter how poorly, or how well those individuals might fulfill those values.

We must evaluate religions on their own merit and determine for ourselves whether we, in the pursuit of being who we should be and are not, will allow the values laid out by a certain belief system to direct our pursuit.

Faults, Follies, and Meeting People

Recently I've been thinking a lot, about a lot of things. This is to some extent my default modus operandi.

One of the things frequently on my mind has been the dynamics of meeting people. By meeting people I mean a few things, of course I mean the first time we encounter a new person, but I also mean the process by which we go about interacting with those around us. By the very nature of things when we interact with people around us we have to find a place to 'meet,' some ground to stand on throughout our interaction with them. Now the question becomes where is this meeting place?

Do we force ourselves and those around us into some fictitious characters and pretend to be something we're not in order to create a comfortable space to interact?

Do we stand uncompromisingly where we are like stone pillars, and force those around us to accommodate the way we are and leave all the responsibility of interaction on others?

Do we make ourselves so accommodating of other people's views/lifestyles/positionsthat we become so malleable that we are almost fluid, and without any real substance?

I submit that it is possible to do none of these things, and instead meet people where they are at, while also meeting them where we are. This may seem contradictory, but all I mean by that is that we simply be honest with people about where we are, but not make that some obstacle between ourselves when we are in different places than those around us.

Some people would call this 'tolerance,' but I've come to hate that word and the way it is used in modern language. I think a more accurate term is that this is simply 'life.' We live in a world where it will be impossible to surround ourselves with people who are 'in the same place' we are. Whether we encounter people of different sexual orientations, religions, cultures, etc. on a regular basis or not, we will encounter people of different genders, family backgrounds, and mindsets no matter how hard we try to isolate ourselves.

There are people that try to isolate themselves within a comfort-zone. They close themselves within a bubble of people who all share some specific thing in common. I am guilty of this at times myself. There are Christian-bubbles, GLBTA-bubbles, 'we-have-the-same-major'-bubbles, and any number of other bubbles that are present in most cities.

As one might expect I've had the most interaction with people in Christian-bubbles, as far as bubble-people are concerned. The thing that frustrates me about the whole idea of any bubble is that by isolating ourselves like that we're living life in a sub-set of the world and not really living in the real world. But I find the Christian-bubble particularly infuriating because Scripture specifically tells us to be in the world but not of the world.

Another thing that irks me about bubble-life is that any sort of bubble makes those on the outside of it feel as though they would need to change themselves before they could be a part of that community. Some communities have isolated themselves to the point of being exclusive, and they almost have a checklist of 'you can't join us until you've done...'

I think that's the way many people feel about Christianity. That they would have to check off a bunch of things on a list before they could be a part of it. This is, in my opinion, one of the greatest failures of the modern Church. All too often the Church doesn't meet people where they are, and thus makes them feel that they are not wanted, and wouldn't be accepted by God. However, the reality is that God accepts everyone as they are, and that it is Christians who do not.

I just want to do the best I can to meet people where they are. It is only after meeting someone where they are that we can concern ourselves with where we are going, and the changes that may need to be made to get there.

Faults, Follies, and Risking It All

I have many faults, and I have committed many follies, and I am prepared to risk it all.

I've come to realize that in spite of the fact that I don't participate in any extreme sports, or anything of that nature I live my life in a way that some would label very risky. I am honest, or I try to be, at all times and with everyone. Obviously, this honesty is confined within the bounds of social propriety, meaning I am honest at all times but only completely open with those I love and trust. However, I am generally very trusting, and find it impossible not to love (to some degree) everyone I know. Therefore I essentially live with my heart on my sleeve, so to speak. All anyone needs to do is ask the right (or wrong) question, and I will answer them, honestly.

I've yet to really get burned by this. Which is fortunate for me I suppose. But I really don't care what people know about me. I just wish it were easier for people to understand me.

Recently I've had multiple conversations with people I am close with that have pointed out to me how rare it is for someone to actually speak their mind. This has also led me to the conclusion that many of the biggest miscommunications I find myself causing are because I say what I mean and the listener tries to read between the lines or dig beneath the statement to find what I mean. But I said what I meant, and therefore this leads nowhere good.

I understand that my policy of honesty inherently leaves me open to pain. Speaking figuratively, there's a reason we have skin, fat, muscles, and a rib cage surrounding our hearts. But to choose to forgo that protection and leave my heart out in the open is dangerous, and I get that. Doesn't bother me though...

I've recently gone through an extended period of time that was extremely difficult, and tore me down about as far as a man can be torn down and still come back from it. It lasted longer than it should have, and got worse than I thought it could have. But without boring you, or scaring you for that matter, with the details, suffice it to say that I'm back. I'm back to the whole-hearted pursuit of being the man that I should be, no matter what that means.

No matter what that means...

That is the crux of the matter right now. After going through such a long period where I felt so very disconnected from reality, where I honestly felt like someone else was living my life, it's hard to know how to live my life for myself again. Or more accurately as myself again.

I'm feeling pulled in a lot of directions, and am prayerfully considering everything. I am half-way through a Master of Science degree in Aerospace Engineering, and yet I feel I have lost much (if not all) of the passion I once had for that field. Perhaps that's because I associate my time away from reality with my studies for this degree, due to the fact that they happened to occur at the same time...

I need to pray about that more, meditate on that more.

There are still some very clear passions in my life: Faith, Music, Theater, and Service.

Most who know me, know my faith is something that is very important to me. It's not something I do, it's something I am. I'll not harp on that here.

With regards to the music, and theater, I've been called a pretentious hipster with respect to both art-forms. This accusation is not completely unwarranted and I will therefore not refute it here. When it comes to music I am a consumer more than a producer of it. I wish I could call myself a musician, and in spite of the many instruments I have played, and all the singing I have done, I cannot. My passion for theater takes shape in the form of acting. I have performed in a total of 18 plays, with roles ranging from cameos to help out a friend, to the 7 lead roles I've had the pleasure of performing. I love my music and I love performing and I hope to continue taking part in both as long as I possibly can.

Recently I've felt a pull toward finding a way to combine my passions, and pursue them all simultaneously. Not sure exactly what that looks like. Perhaps it means I should get more actively involved in faith-based service in the artistic community. Maybe it's simply affirmation of the fact that my presence in the artistic community provides me with opportunities to serve the people I get to know. There's also the possibility that I need to take a bigger risk than that, and make ministry to the artistic community my life. That would be a big risk. To leave behind (potentially) two degrees in Aerospace Engineering...

But I am willing to risk it all, to become the man I should be.

Poetry: 5 Seconds

If you were to ask any guy or girl
What is it that you like least about yourself... physically?
I think most people would have an answer within 5 seconds
Whether it be ears, eyes, nose or lips
Maybe pecs, abs, or possibly even hips
Perhaps it's their legs, or their butt, and did I forget tits?
But for me... it's always been my ribs
And the fact that I've been skinny enough to see them since I was a kid
Even when my mom would feed me meal replacement shakes with breakfast
Yes I said with breakfast, not for breakfast
So while I was drinking whole milk mixed with Carnation instant breakfast
Eating eggs, sausage and toast
Consuming far more calories than my friends could boast
I was still the smallest kid around
But when I was young it wasn't much of a problem
In fact I kind of liked it, because I was fast
And when it came time for dodgeball the small target's never picked last
But as hormones kicked in I quickly learned that ribs aren't sexy
Being a stick like me isn't that attractive, even when flexing

See if you were to ask a girl what she likes most in guy... physically
I think most would have an answer within 5 seconds
Whether it be ears, eyes, nose or lips
Maybe pecs, abs, or possibly even hips
Perhaps it's their legs, or their butt, and did I forget this?
But you see... it'll never be ribs
Ribs aren't something desirable to see
Which unfortunately doesn't work out well for me
I can eat all I want and go to the gym
And no matter what weights I lift, I'll still be thin
Which on the one hand is great
But it's not about to get me a date
I might have a decent looking face and I'm certainly fit
But once the shirt comes off you're greeted by ribs
And as an extra dose of ugly just to be nice
How many times would you have to roll two dice
To equal the odds of being this thin with a dent on both sides?
It might not be such a different sight
If I had the ribs of a Michealangelo painted knight
But my torso isn't that type of masterpiece

But the thing is this
If you were to ask me now what I like most about myself... physically
I might be able to answer within 5 seconds
Whether it be ears, eyes, nose or lips
Maybe pecs, abs, or possibly even hips
Perhaps it's my legs, or my butt, and did I forget this?
But you see... I think I'd say ribs
Cause I've learned that life is about embracing who I am
Remembering that life is a process of becoming a better man
So I accept where I stand and begin to make plans
And I love my imperfections because I know that I can
Make those things better with time
So my faults become opportunities
To take what I have and make the best of these
Many puzzle pieces that make me a man
The good, the bad and even my ribs

So If I were to ask you right now what you like most about yourself
I hope you'd consider that question for more than 5 seconds