The Return of the Prodigal Blogger

I haven't posted in months. There was a reason. I got married, went on a honeymoon, set up an apartment. Positive stuff.
I also managed to fail at all attempts to gain meaningful employment. I'm not even truly disappointed that I couldn't find anything other than my hit or miss subbing gig - there are no Social Studies jobs on LI. What has me on the edge of panic is that I can't even land a bullshit receptionist or file clerk position, of which there are many.
I had a revelation last night. To keep the backstory brief: basically everything I've done, every motivation I had growing up, was to succeed at school and in life so I wouldn't end up miserable like my father. Dad's not a bad man, per se. But he's so wrapped up in his hatred of his life he neglects his wife, his children, and misses out on everything positive that he could have because he can't get over the fact that he works an awful, stressful, shit job. Even as a small child I connected the link between his bitterness and his career, or at least his failure to find work in his desired field.
In middle school I swore that I would do whatever it took to get into a great college once I decided what I wanted to do with my life. In high school, I decided I wanted to be an anthropologist so I busted my ass and ignored the normal trappings of adolescence to get into NYU. And I fucking beat out thousands of other applicants to get in there. In my youth, I was positive that going to the best college would ensure a job that, even if it didn't pay greatly, I would at least be satisfied with.
In college, I got side-tracked, but in a positive way. I managed to find someone whom I loved, and loved me back. This was something that for a very long time I thought would never happen. So I embraced it. And he made me happy. So I married him.

Now it has become clear to me, that these seemingly wonderful things that I've enjoyed, the acceptance and attendance to the college of my (and thousands of others) dreams and the love that I never thought I'd experience, were part of an elaborate cosmic joke.
I led my life, disciplined and difficult more than not, so that I could come out better in life than my parents achieved. I don't really mean financially; although good finances would eliminate 99% of what ails them. The path I took was taken specifically to avoid their destination. But where has it gotten me? The same exact fucking location: lower-middle class suburban hell. I am neither emotionally, mentally, socially, or economically further up the ladder than my parents were at my age. In fact, I'm wallowing in the scum that's beneath the level they were at, because they were never in $120,000 worth of student loan debt with no job.
The happiness I've enjoyed has been an unfortunate detour; a distraction which kept me from seeing the end game.
For now, I'm sure there is a God, or at least a universal sentient being. Because if this was all an accident, all a series of chances and choices, I wouldn't be party to the acute irony that has befallen me. I just wish I knew what I did to infuriate it so, for it to have played so cruel a joke on me.
Most of all, I just wish I knew what I could do to make things better.

No Where To Hide

In the past few weeks, I've been increasingly anxious and jittery. I guess that's not unusual, considering my wedding date is fast approaching. I know that many a bride has been overwhelmed by the plethora of appointments that need to be made and attended, phone calls, inquiries, decisions. But for some reason, these stressors have so polluted my mind that I find there is no where I can turn to internally to run from them.
The closest analogy I can think of is from the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. In the film, the protagonist has paid a service to wipe his memory clean of his ex-girlfriend, Clementine. While the process is taking place, from inside his mind the audience watches Joel trying to hide from the cleaners because he ultimately decided that he didn't really want to forget Clementine, so he flees to obscure, uncomfortable memories with Clementine to try and preserve her somehow in his psyche.
That's sort of how I operate when I need a mental escape from what's going on in my life.  Only, naturally, I try and dwell on happy memories, such as my first date with Ethan, or a fun time I had with my friends in high school, etc. Except recently, this luxury has eluded me. Whenever I try and divert my focus from things I need to do or remember to do, I can't think of anything that doesn't either: A) make me nostalgic, which in turn, depresses me; B) makes me horrifically uncomfortable; or C) makes me outright sad. Any and all happy memories degrade into a blurry scene in which a dreadful feeling washes over me, and the little voice in my head taunts "things won't ever be that great again ever!" - and I'm abruptly snapped back into worrying about the growing list of phone calls that need to be made.
I can remember a time when falling asleep was something I looked forward to because it was entirely time I had to myself, no one could take it away or intrude on it, it was my time to fantasize about what I'd do with a million dollars (this was back in an era when that was actually a large sum of money), what heaven might be like (this was back in an era when I actually believed in such a thing), or what my handsome prince would look like if I had been born a princess (this was back in an era when I wasn't aware of how despicably sexist Disney was). I almost dread going to sleep now. Any hope of a fantasy is beaten down by my uber-stressful reality. It's starting to encroach on my fully-awake hours too, having had two panic attacks in as many weeks. Not the worst attacks I've ever had, which I suppose I can be thankful for, but for those who don't know: any panic attack is a giant drain on someone's emotional and mental stamina.
I have people tell me all the time that everything will be ok and that I shouldn't worry about things I can't control. But truthfully, I can be and am forced to be in control of a lot of things in my life. I'm not a celebrity, I can't pay some lackey to run my life for me. I just hope that once this wedding is over, I can reclaim that small piece of mental ownership and enjoyment I had at bedtime, if just for a short while.

My Disunion of Opposites (As Triggered By A Tsunami)

This earthquake/tsunami is, of course, a horrific natural disaster and I'm really disturbed by the images I keep seeing on the news everywhere about the death and destruction in Japan and the West coast/Hawaii. I can't fathom how a nation can even being to deal with such a catastrophe; how you would even begin to pick up the pieces and rebuild after such an awful occurrence. 

But on top of the intense sorrow I feel for all of those affected by this disaster, I feel even worse because the biggest problem I have in my life right now is figuring out how the hell we're going to pay for my wedding. There are people who died violently, whose homes were washed away like they were little pebbles on a beach, who have lost everything that was dear to them, and here I am, sitting in my home: safe, dry, with no threat to my physical self to speak of at all.

It's absurd to feel survivor's remorse considering I live a good 12,000 miles away from Japan and I've never traveled further west than Texas and I know nobody who was personally affected in this tragedy. But I do feel guilty that I'm freaking out about coming up with money and the shitty state of the economy and future, and there are millions of people who are freaking out because they don't have a place to live anymore. I feel shallow and ungrateful and spoiled, but I don't really think that's a fair assessment of myself either. Would a shallow person feel as deeply saddened as I do at the misfortune of these victims? Probably not.

This is just a symptom of a greater problem that has been eating away at me. I can't seem to reconcile the two opposing forces within myself. At my core, I’m an extremely logical person. I crave facts and tangible evidence for all assertions; for this reason I am naturally skeptical of everything, especially those concepts that are faith-based, namely religion. I personally feel that all organized religions are harmful to society and inhibit progress towards a better and more equal life for all humans. That being said, I am also paradoxically an extremely emotional person whose actions are strongly governed by feelings. I cry daily (not necessarily in great amounts or even due to sadness), am intensely passionate about my personal beliefs, and I feel more strongly than most people I know (I could watch a commercial that’s an advertisement for a camera and cry because the plot was sweetly sentimental). When criticized, even when justifiably and deservedly given, I am quick to tears and prolonged moodiness.

These emotional outbursts are more than a little annoying, not just for me but to those whom I love, of this I am well aware. But I can’t help feeling that this is something that is just written into my DNA, that cannot and may be should not be changed. This is who I am. Why should I be ashamed of the ability to feel emotion as powerfully as I do? People go to great lengths to “feel” things, whether it be through promiscuity or drugs or other extreme distractions, but I am dually gifted/cursed with it.

Trying to reconcile these bouts I have with existential dilemmas has become increasingly problematic and with greater frequency. The more time I have to myself, the more time I ruminate on human or individual problems and the more I get lost and confused within my feelings about these issues.

I am reminded of a rather profound teacher’s assistant I had while at NYU my senior year. He was actually a well establish and accomplished professional composer/educator/philosopher, and to this day I have no idea why he wasn’t teaching the course himself. Edward Green says this in his essay “Aesthetic Realism—A New Way of Seeing Music, Education and the World:”

The basic conflict in the human mind (is)…the Self and World conflict. In every person there is a drive towards the caring for and pleasing of self; in every person there is a drive towards other things, a desire to meet and know these. Often this drive towards self as an exclusive thing collides painfully with the drive to widen the self...

I think that pretty much sums up my internal conflict. His philosophy; that of Eli Siegel’s Aesthetic Realism, is extremely applicable to my conundrum. Aesthetic Realism is the acceptance of the opposites in reality, and its central idea is that the world, when seen aesthetically, can be liked because it is a structure of opposites and that structure is akin to our own nature and our own hopes. I am structurally opposed, then: a rational creature that is prone to extremely irrational impulses. This is normal, the nature of existence is a union of contradictions. So why do I have such trouble balancing the two halves? I wish I knew…

HELP, I Can't Stop Myself From Needless Multi-Tasking!!!!!

This is a problem that I know has gotten progressively worse as I've gotten older. It seems as though even when I'm doing things that I've been meaning to do for some time (say, watch a TV episode, or read a book), I find that I can't do just that one thing without feeling anxious.
While watching TV, I have uncontrollable impulses to nibble on small candies, or pluck my eyebrows, or file my nails, etc. Now, if it's an old show or a movie that I've seen many times, this isn't so problematic, but I'm compelled to do these things to the point where I find myself missing out on key parts of new shows because I just couldn't sit still! It's getting really frustrating not being able to enjoy the stuff I love because I feel like I should be doing other things.
The need to feel productive is obviously a vestigial habit left over from when I was going to school, when every moment of time was precious and had to be utilized effectively. Now that I have plenty of time to myself, I should be able to appreciate it more fully, but I can't because of these impulses to multi-task. The great thinker Michel de Montaigne once said (and I'm really horribly paraphrasing because I can't find my copy of his works, nor the quote on the internet) "You cannot run, shit, and philosophize all at the same time." Meaning, of course, that while you may think it thrifty and wise to multi-task constantly, you really can't do a million things at once. And more importantly, you shouldn't do a million things at once, because then you're doing all things poorly, or at least, not giving each thing the full attention it probably deserves.
I'm a great admirer of Montaigne and I think his logic is sound..... if only I could follow his advice! Arg, I feel like I'm taking crazy pills lately, may be it's stress? I just want to be able to watch an episode of Battlestar Galactica without missing out on something important and having to rewind, is that so much to ask?

So This Is What It's Like To Be Happy.... I Had Forgotten

I know no one but myself will read this (probably), but I really want to get out what's been scrambling around in my head.
Today was the happiest I've been in ages. I mean, legitimately and genuinely happy. Today's day off with Ethan was like going out on a date when we first started dating - there were no fights, no paranoia, nothing negative at all. Smiles, hugs, cute sayings, movies, sex (twice!), feeling pretty, and picking out a wedding band? It's like a modern fairy tale!
I'm trying to suppress the voice in my head screaming "it's all too good to be true! This is a sign of bad things to come!" I'm afraid of losing this feeling, I'm really scared, because I really did forget what it felt like to be this uninhibited by pain and sorrow. What if something horrible happens tomorrow and I won't ever feel this good again?
But I'm really sick of living my life by "what ifs?" Absolutely fucking sick of waiting for the other shoe to drop. I had a close friend tell me recently that I should just enjoy my happiness, because if you're always letting the potential for bad things to happen loom over your shoulder, then you're not really ever happy. I think that's what I succeeded in doing today, finally. I hope I continue to succeed.... because I think after all of the stupid shit I've dealt with in recent months (years), I deserve to be at least marginally happy.
Most of all: I really, truly love my Ethan, and I'm super grateful for today, even if the other shoe does drop like an anvil on my life. I'm finally getting excited, instead of bogged down by "what ifs?", about my wedding.... <3