This Is What I Love About You

I love you, you know it’s true. There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do, if it helped you.
This isn’t about the things that I’d do to show how much I love you.
This is what I love about you.

You soften and light up with a smile that comes from your heart when you look at your kids and they aren’t looking.
You gave me the bigger half of the candy bar that you bought
You showed me how to do things I didn’t think that I could do
Fresh baked cookies and watermelon seed spits
Cream of wheat is definitely not the same as grits
Kickflips off the deck and Real Fast Trucks

I love these things, they make me smile, I can’t resist sitting in them for a while

Jump out of the tree, double jump into the sky
You can do anything, all you have to do is try
Because I said so, I don’t have to tell you why
Cross my heart and hope to die

Call the cops but quick hang up with dread.
Oh good they sent a police car we’re dead.
Ghost in the graveyard, shark in the dark.
Bored on the weekends sneak into Lilac Park

Spoons, Rook, Dutch Blitz, Speed
Things like these are what I need

Stranger To The Self

Do you know what it is like to have a burning calling to do something, yet there seems to be an unseen force that stands between you and that thing?

You push for the thing that calls you, but in your way is resistance.
It is not so overt a resistance to be identified, it is slippery, vague, and ever present.
You cannot name this obstacle, only toil against it in desperate vain, aching to make it to where your heart belongs.

This is how writing is for me.
I have no illusions that perhaps I yearn for unattainable dreams, or long to be something that is beyond my means.
I am meant to write, it is in my very bones. Linguistic delight trembles at my fingertips, a physical want to burst forth a name the reality I live.

But I do not let it out.

I have a mounting suspicion this is tied to self doubt, and even more interestingly, external validation.
I do not want to write for the approval of others.
I do not want to write to gain respect from others.

I need to write to gain it from myself.
Until I do that, I will be struggling with that unnamed and unknown force, which I will call the smothering mass of inauthenticity.

People Change

I know I have

I’ve been stuck in ‘how could my family just let me go’
and
'how could they make me feel this, don’t they know?’

but realized

Who I was, was an asshole. I didn’t think as such, because I had the inside scoop.
They did not, do not, but shall, in time.
I was an asshole, in so many ways
I was a dick, for so many days
Well. . . let me correct that.
I behaved like an asshole
and I behaved like a dick
but life is perception, so there’s the trick

I’m sorry I behaved like a dick, and treated you poorly
I’m sorry I didn’t know then what I know now
I would do things differently, if I could
All I can do now, is do things differently going forward

So that’s what I’m going to do.

Choices Made, Prices Paid

This is going to be messy, it’s going to be missing gaps and skipping bits.
It’s going to be rough, it’s going to be ragged.
It’s going to make some sense, no sense, all sense.
It’s going to be all over the place.

I had a conversation with someone near and dear to my heart.

They equated being gay and my husband being included in social gatherings to them bringing heroin over and doing it in front of my kids.
(I don’t have kids, but the metaphor is there anyway)

That hurts.
No one is actively reaching out to get and understand my side of the story.
No one is seeking to build the relationship.
No one is trying to keep me in their life because they do not want ME in their life.
They want a version of me that they are comfortable with.

They were giving a distinctly angry impression, that I demanded they be the way I want so I can feel accepted.
I don’t demand that.
I don’t give a upright or horizontal fuck about the way they are.
I give every sort of fuck about the way they treat me.
I’ve realized, I don’t want acceptance, I want equality.
I don’t have that here.

You said ‘it would be the same treatment if you were shaking up with a GF’ to which I thought ‘that’s a load of shit’
Growing up, siblings brought their dating partners around and it was fine.
Growing up, they brought their spouses around and it was fine.
It is not fine if I do the exact same thing.
That’s not equality.
That is drawing out an exact shape that I am allowed to exist in their presence as.
Outside the lines? Nope. Not welcome here.

Why do I think that it stems from your issue with me being gay?
Because it all started when I came out

Before coming out = Great
After coming out = Not Great

The math seems simple.
I voice that I have an issue with your issue, but am informed that the issue is really my issue.
If I didn’t have an issue with your issue, then there would be no issue!
If you didn’t have a problem with me punching you in the teeth, then we’d have no problem!

Except I keep getting punched in the teeth.

Why do I continually pursue this relationship when it delivers consistent hurt?
Because I remember when it didn’t.
I remember when it was lovely.
I remember when it was great.

Could I show up in the capacity you will allow?
Certainly.
Would it cost me anything?
Yes.
Would I ask you to feel awful to be around me?
No.
If you told me ‘I feel awful around you because XYZ’ then I would seek to change those things.
It seems entirely within your power to open the gates, but you are holding them closed.

The onus of your issue with me, is put upon me, which is a deliciously bizarre twist.
Not only is the problem between us coming from you, it is framed as if it’s my fault.
If I would just be XYZ, then you could love me.
That’s love?
That’s conditional love.
That’s not love.
Love is unconditional.

How’s this for a hot take?
You think you do love me, because you are loving as you have learned your God loves.
With exacting conditions.

You MUST be THIS way in order to be worthy of love.
That’s fucked up.

Do you think that if I actually loved you, I would change to fit the way you want me to?
That. Is. Not. Love.

Love is not asking or expecting someone to change for you to deem them worthy of love.
Love is looking at someone in totality, and then loving them.

You said that I was just trying to convince myself.
No. I am trying to convince you, as I have believed exactly what you believe, and found my way to the truth.
I am ‘convincing’ you, in that I want to lay out exactly the steps and experiences that lead me here.

Maybe we are at an impasse and we will never reach the middle ground.
Maybe we will change drastically and fundamentally reshape our relationship.
Maybe.

The choice is up to us.
I want to build that equitable relationship.
I’m already there, I’m willing.
I’m waiting.
I’ll keep waiting, perhaps forever, but I will keep waiting.

If you’re still with me, I’m going to stress in ‘absolute truths’

It is not a choice, it is not an addiction, it is not an abomination in the eyes of God.
It is not the downfall of society, the visceral moral gutting of life.
It is none of the awful things you think that it is.
I cannot ‘just not act on it’ or ‘make a different choice’
If you can step out of your experience and into mine, it’ll make sense.
I can do it for you, but you cannot do it for me.
That is not equality.
That is not unconditional.
It is a dreadful self imposed restriction you are implementing.
You are choosing the belief that cuts me out of your life.
I didn’t choose it.
I’m not choosing to act on it.
To tell me otherwise, is to invalidate my experience and reality.
To believe otherwise is to ignore me alltogether.
To expect otherwise is to manufacture a role in your life I am allowed to play.
That is not love.

The Sound Of Our Own Voice

Do we dislike it because it sounds bad, or dislike it because it sounds different?
It can be a uniquely alienating experience to hear your own voice, a hardened proof that the world will never hear you as you hear yourself.
You cannot change that, only learn to love your voice as it is, and treasure the one sided experience you have with it.

I often wonder if there is a method in which we could record a voice, modulate it, and spit it back out so that it sounds as the speaker hears it.
How thrilling that seems, to be able to experience someone else’s voice as they do.
We have the staggeringly unique (on Earth) ability to convey our own inner worlds outwards.
We have the talent of comprehension, of understanding, of curiosity.

We should use them.

What Do We Know?

I know what I know, but not what I don’t.
You know what you know, but not what you don’t.
I can tell you what I know, but I can’t make you know it.
You can convey what you know, you can tell or show it.

If we do not have the foundation of trust, that we are both stating only what we know, we cannot truly connect.
I want to connect, I want to share, I want us to make sense of the space between our lives.
I want it to make sense.
Well, it makes sense, but it doesn’t feel like sense.

Step into my world and give me a sharp nod “Yeah ok it makes sense”
If you cannot do that, then fundamentally, we cannot truly connect.

Why do I feel that way? I can step into your world, and smile wide. It makes sense.
You cannot do the same back, and thus, I cannot quantify what kind of relationship we can foster.
It seems that it’s impossible, when we are standing on different shores.

It makes sense because I am, at my core, wrong when placed into the context of your world.
You cannot see how it makes sense, because it seems pretty similar to agreeing with me.
You do not have to agree with me, but you do have to own your actions and reality.
If I do not fit into your reality, it is because you are not allowing me the room to be.
If I am wrong, it is because you are choosing to believe you are right.

As I see it, the onus does not lie entirely with me or you.
It lies between us, but I do not have a solution.
I do not know how to approach you.
I do not know how to connect with you.
I do not know, and that unknown paralyzes me.

What do I do?
How do I do it?

I miss you.
I rankle at the narrative that your action conveys.
That is on me. The story I am laboring under, in regards to how you feel and think, that’s on me.
That is a story my brain creates to make it make sense, and it feels unfair.
I don’t know your story.
I don’t know how you feel.
I don’t know how you think.

I left suddenly, and you let me go.
No one reached out to hear my side.
No one sympathized.

I left because no one could understand.
I left and no one understood.
It seems no one wants to.
They are quite content with the story about me they tell themselves.

That feels dishearteningly excruciating.
The discomfort comes from wanting things to be different.
My discomfort comes from wanting me to be different.

I hope we figure it out.
I hope we didn’t let each other go.

I know what I know.
You know what you know.
I hope there is an eventual We Know, but I Know that it is not gauranteed.

I feel a lot of guilt, sorrow, grief, doubt, fear, a whole smattering of ‘negative’ emotion over the entire situation.
Those feelings paralyze me.
I know what I need to do is reach out and start building the bridges.
Testing the foundations to see if a bridge is feasible in general.

I know what I know.
You know what you know.
Should we build bridges so we can each show?

Maybe you let me leave, because you knew I had to go.
I don’t know.

All We Need

All we need is someone to believe in us, for too often, we don’t ourselves.

I do.
I believe in you.
But how can I do that when I don’t know you?

I know enough.

You didn’t exist, now you do.
How strange!
The same thing happened to me.
That is all I need.

To believe in you, to believe in me too.
We just showed up, none of us know what’s going on.
We make up, tell stories, assure ourselves.
But we don’t know what’s going on.

That’s all I need.
So I believe in you, because I believe in me too.
I’m always going to give it my best, regardless of if I show up ahead or behind the rest.
We don’t know what’s going on.
We just showed up here.
I can give my 100%
I can give my 10%

It will be my best.

We can make room for us at the table.
We can believe in us.

That’s all we need.

Ask Questions

Curiousity is an innate human trait, one that has driven us from caves to peaks.
What is the view like from up there?
What does that taste like?
Why do they behave that way?
How can I be a better person?

The only dumb question is the one that goes unasked.
We all do not know things, the only way for them to be known is to ask or be shown.
If you want to know, ask.
Some people will treat questions like a threat, an attack coming from someone lesser that must be defended against.
How bizarre.
Just answer the question.

Q: "Why can’t I go to my friend’s house?"
A: "Because I said so"

That is a non answer. It does not answer Why, it just answers How. Answer the question honestly.
Why? Because you have chores to do, or obligations to fulfill, or any reasonable or logical answer.
"Because that’s how it is.” is a bad answer to a legitmate question.

Q: "Why can’t I be paid a liveable wage?"
A: "Because that’s what policy is."
That is also a non answer. That’s a How answer for a Why question.

Questions that you know the answer to and seem trite are not dumb questions.
The asking party does not know the answer, you do. To shame them for not knowing something you do is a crass and deplorable response.
Lift them up, do not push them down.

Q: "Why are we not allowed to walk on subway rails?"

A: "They’re electrified and will straight up murder you if you touch them."
vs
A: "Because it’ll kill you, how did you NOT know that?"

One of those answers is going to feel a lot better to give and receive.
Answer the question as if you’d asked it, how would you want the answer to be delivered to you?
A: “Informative and polite”
A: “Vaguely informative and rude”

Do Better, Be Better.

I Want To Be Glad

I want to be glad.
I want every day with you to be the best we’ve ever had.
Watch the sun set on the ocean, run along the sandy shore.
Surprise myself when I love you even more than before.

I want to accept I won’t Nail It every single time.
I want to know that the view is worth the climb.
I want to be better.
I want to do better.

Leaves in the street can make you smile
If you learn to laugh along
The world’s been laughing, for a while
I yearn to sing that song

Perfectly Imperfect, the tightrope of fraying twine
Living as a stranger in a life that isn’t mine
Watching from a distance, clouded shower mirror
I want to cross the void so I can hold you near

When I sink to the tiles and lie with the grout
Know I’m inside desperately trying to get out
On my mind and heart, the busy little bee
My favorite song is the sound of you and me

I Want To Be Mad

If I said this whole thing is a lie, it could be a way to tell the truth with the plausible deniabilty built into the story.

Or it could be that this whole thing is a lie.

This whole thing is a lie.

Any similarity to person or persons fictional or real, is entirely coincidental.

So, check this shit out.

My employer was forced to utilize WFH when COVID hit. It was (like nearly every other company and instance) much better for the employee.
They introduced 25% in office.
A significant portion of employees, knowledge and talent leave.
They just introduced 3 In / 2 WFH (not Mon or Friday*) in a live Q&A session.
In retrospect, it was a good move that wasn’t going to work with their motives.
They did not want honesty, or feelings, they only wanted questions that came from a place of Ideal Perception : We Look Good.

That’s not what ended up happening, obviously.

It’s quite simple, How To Be Perceived As Good.

Step 1. Do Good Things
Step 2. Don’t Do Bad Things

That’s it.

So, the Q&A.

Highlights :

Someone calls the VP a liar*
*Two weeks previously, in the exact same setting (live Q&A for ‘transparency’), The Company said they were not thinking about it at this time.
In retrospect, the keyword was ‘thinking’.
They’d already made the decision, so technically they weren’t lying.

“If we are going to WFH like other companies, can we get paid like other tech companies?”

“Did anyone ask what is the right thing to do for the employees?”

“Do we need to change our WFH policy because management has nothing to manage, or feels redundant to a degree if people aren’t in the office to be managed?”

This is the question that hurt some feelings.
Which, to me, is strange.
If you are not redundant, or do not feel redundant, this is an easy ‘No’
Hurt feelings isn’t a ‘No’.

Anyway, I get called into the office for an In Person meeting to Discuss My Comments.
I am outraged at this Consequence I saw before I hit enter on my keyboard.
I knew they would be mad, but this is some petty level of mad.

I wanted a fight. I’d been talking in circles for the last year, the last 5 years, my whole 8 year career with the company.
I was outraged, but I was excited. Finally. A Chance to say the same things I say to someone another step up the chain.
If you are above me, but cannot do something for me that someone above you can do, you are redundant.
*in that capacity. You are so much more than this one thing you cannot do, but in this one thing you cannot do.
R e d u n d a n t.

I knew this was coming, and there was so much I wanted to say, I only said a little.
I kept a good tamped lid on my anger, but it’s still there and needs to be felt.

I go into the office.
I am mad.
I am mad I had to drive in.
I am mad this is even being talked about.
I am mad.

I show up nearly 11:30 on the dot, go and wait in the conference room.
My Manager’s Manager sits farthest away from me at the table.
My Manager sits across from me.

This is telling. There is a lot of things that are telling in this ‘discussion.’

Coincidentally, I tell that that I have spent my life observing people, and I can read them incredibly well.
I don’t like the story I read in that room.
It was a pretty redundant story.

I still can’t get a pay raise. Still.
I may be getting one soon, but they will start me at the bottom of the scale.
An exemplary employee, at the bottom of the scale.
Their words, not mine. I work very hard to be exemplary, for zero reason beyond the world needs to be better.
They indirectly benefit from that work in a significant way, but I’m Bottom Of The Scale.
I have a nearly perfect review with one star knocked off because ‘we can’t give perfect reviews, everyone has somewhere to improve’

yeah, including you, fuckface.

We almost do small talk, but I cut it off.
”You want to dance around, or get to brass tacks”

Uncomfortable chuckles, but we get down to it.

“When you called all of management-”
I cut them off.
”That’s not what I said.”
I’ve written down exactly what I said. I know the wording is important, because I worded it to be so. Deniability is woven into the fabric of the ‘comment’

(“Do we need to change our WFH policy because management has nothing to manage, or feels redundant to a degree if people aren’t in the office to be managed?”)

My Manager’s manager speaks up from the far side of the table.

“What you said was - - - - - - I tune him out and read off my notepad until he finishes the quote I am reading along with”

I nod. “Yes, that’s exactly what I said.”

“When I read that I felt insulted. I felt”
I tune him out again. What about how I FEEL

He finishes, and it’s my turn.
”When I wrote that, it was aimed at people that are actually redundant.”
I point at my manager “I do not think you are redundant.”
I point at my Manager’s manager “I do not think you are redundant.”

because I know you are

“It was not my intent to accidentally hurt feelings in the process.”

Then they go on to have a problem because it was in a ‘public setting’

Yeah ok, the motherfucker presenting this WFH information to us was making much more people feel bad in a public setting.
What about how we feel? You are making people feel bad and they are making you feel bad in return?
You get what you fuckin give, and this is what you give.
No, though, this is a problem because the Feel Bad only points down, not up. Down not hurt up. Up control Down!

“If this question or comment, makes you feel redundant, I did not make you feel redundant. You had that redundant feeling all along, I did not make you feel it. You read my question, and felt it speak to the parts of your role that feel redundant. Those feelings were already there. I didn’t put them there.”

The parts that make you second guess, imposter syndrome, compartmentalize, view humans as numbers, whatever parts resonated with ‘redundant’.
I. Am. Not. The. Source. Of. Those. Feelings.
You are.

“Do you get a bonus?” I point at my Manager’s Manager.

He gives a smarmy half shrug “I didn’t listen to what he said back, because I already knew he got a bonus, based on MY metrics.”

I ask the same of my manager. “Same story, I also didn’t listen, if they weren’t going to Listen, then I wasn’t either.”

“I don’t get a bonus. No bonus. No incentive to do well. You have incentive for me to do well, you both do. I do not. Give me incentive to do well. Give all the first level employees bonuses based on performance, and give any ‘leadership’ bonuses based on the bonuses of their subordinates”
I call it ‘Everyone Fuckin Wins You Morons’

I have a whole bag full of banging ideas on how to help people work better.
I know people. I know employers. I see exactly where they’re fucking up.
I see exactly where they have the capacity to succeed.

As we’ve established (or I have, via 8 years experience) they do not give a tangible fuck about how I feel.
So why would they listen to me?
I bet it’d fuckin kill you to take the great advice of someone who called you redundant.

I didn’t say what I wanted to say.

I said what they wanted to hear, partially saying what I wanted to say, all without having to say what they wanted me to say.
I recognized that art I carry with me, the power I posses to retain myself while somehow getting others to feel like they’re retaining it.
It’s dancing a dance I didn’t realize I knew the steps to.

Here’s what I wanted to say, but did not.

If you feel redundant, you should talk to your supervisor for more responsibilities to make you feel more useful.

Do you want to not be redundant?
Get your power back from the person that holds it.
You’re mad at them, not me.

Calling me into the office, because you got your feelings hurt, because your boss doesn’t trust you to make the right decisions in certain aspects, is fucking childish.

Fucking.
Childish.

On the plus side, in doing this, I realize now, all your feelings are for you / your supervisor.

They’re not for me, and thus, I tilt aside and let them slide on by.
See yah, someone else’s bad feelings.

Talking About Myself

Is terribly boring. Maybe that’s why I find this difficult to do.

I’ll just make shit up instead.

The dogs lies sleeping, drool on the floor
Sleep barks from imaginary knocking on the door
This isn’t made up, this is my life
I’ll have to cut these ropes with a knife

The knife isn’t bad in this metaphor

Bloody hell

Neither was the knock on the door

The dogs are no longer asleep, they are loudly awake

Magic In The Mundane

The world is full of magic if you go looking for it.
I’m currently blasting along at 500 mp/h (800 km/h for the metric inclined.)
I suppose I’ve never typed faster, technically.
Which is to say, this is akin to magic, shouting my thoughts out into the air, and they land upon the screen in front of you.
If you don’t think that is wonderous you get the fuck out of my face, because it IS.

There are people watching movies, playing videogames, reading books, listening to music, an endless amount of personalized entertainment up here among the clouds.

MAGIC.

Sure, you can argue ‘It’s Science’ and I’ll counter immediately with ‘Magic is Science you don’t fully understand. It’s Science you understand too, if you look at it right.’
Then I’d go on to wax poetic about the magic until I’d talked your opinion into submission.
MORE MAGIC!

How delightful, anything can be magic if you shift your perception.
Bicycles? Magic.
Good Food? Magic.
Opening yourself up to truly feel loved? Actually Magic.

Go out and find some magic, you can find it with your ears, your eyes, your nose, your hands, any bit of you that can further the experience of the world.

Especially your heart and mind.

Love Them Anyway

You are going to come across strange, wonderful, beautiful, crazy people in your life.

Love them.
Love every single one of them.

You are going to lose strange, wonderful, beautiful, crazy people that you love

Love them anyway.

Their absence will leave a hole in your heart, and it will make you feel like you’re less.
After all, swiss cheese is FULL of holes, effectively, robbing you of delicious cheese.

You aren’t cheese. Those holes do not make you less.

They make you deeper, if you do not try to fill them with anything else.
Fill that hole with memories of the strange, wonderful, beautiful, crazy person that left it.
You may not have them to fill that hole, but you will never lose the time you had together.

Even if you have enough holes to shred cheese, it does not make you less.

It makes you grater.

Talking To Myself

I spend a lot of time, talking to myself.
I don’t mean talking to myself in a reasonably cohesive discussion, I mean, one sided conversation.
Rehearsing in a mirror seems to be the most apt description.

That, but without the mirror. Just rehearsing.
Planning out what to say.
Planning out when to say it.
Planning out how to behave while I do it.

This is one of those times I started on a thought thinking I was going to discover a fun thing about myself, but it turned into a Fun Thing About Myself.

Well, I’m here, I’m thinking about it, so it’s coming out. Ah-HA!

I pluck the wriggling thought thusly, wrenching it free from the soil, and brushing the dirt off until I can see what it is.

What if, instead, I let the thought be?

If I look up instead of down, what is there to see?

This Is Who I Am

When I left, I had a plan. These feelings and thoughts have plagued me my entire life. It’s been hell to fight them, crush them, hide them, beat them.

I’d acted on them before, and they never went away. So I came up with a plan.

I’ll do this for a bit, and get my fill, then come back and keep them locked down.
A sort of bargain plan, I do this, then I get to have my Perfect Life.

The plan fell apart immediately. I thought of it like a door, I could walk through it, and then come back when I’d finished.
I didn’t realize the door was going to disappear. It never was a door, it was simply entering the world. There’s no door when you’re born.
Well, there is, but, don’t try to go back through it. Please. Do not do it.

Instead of walking out the door, and then back to my life, I walked straight into my Perfect Life.
This is who I am. I think about who I was, and hold tight to every glittering memory I can recall.
I remember new ones, and they add to the already trickling fingers I hold wrapped in the front of my shirt.
I hold it up, the underside dangerously close to tearing. I need to write these down so I don’t lose them.
I need to write these down so I don’t lose myself. My past is a wonderful, essential, exquisite delight to cultivate into a greenhouse of memory.

I’ve got my gardening gloves on, trowel by my side, and a steady stream of bullshit on tap.

This is who I am, and who I am is going to keep on growing.

Love,

Drewski

4/24/23

I am on the constant hunt for The Way To Be

Is it date in the title?

Is it some vague pun every time?

Is it a metaphor for my own life and not at all about the way I write?

Maybe.

Perhaps I am on the hunt for control or consistency, in a life that feels lacking in either.

Feels, is the keyword, because I know I have both, but it doesn’t feel like I do.

A bizarre cognitive dissonance, calm and chaotic, relaxingly stressed.

It feels like home, and thus, I remain.

Running From My Shadow

It’s hard to escape my own shadow, but I’ve only just realized I don’t need to escape it.
I need to turn around and hold it close.
I’ve heard of the concept of a shadow self, but understood it in a malignant light.
My shadow self was all the ‘Bad’ parts of me, and shouldn’t be acknowledged in the light.
Well, it turns out I was very wrong.
The shadow self is the parts of me that I don’t think should be seen, but that simply isn’t true.
The parts that-
I have learned to turn away from, the parts I find shameful or abhorrent.
I think people will recoil in horror from, the parts I think will drive others away.
Were driven into darkness when I was young, and locked away by the growing me.

Close your eyes, and turn to your shadow self.
What does it look like?
Trembling, dirty, hurt and scared.
A young me, captured exactly during a hurtful memory I carry.
This is when I first pushed it away.

What does it want to say to you?
Why did you treat me the way you were treated?

What do you want to say to it?
I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe.
I’m sorry I renounced you, and then shut you out in the dark.
I’m sorry I’ve ignored you and your needs my entire life.

Ask it what you can do to acknowledge it, and do better.
See me. Listen to me. Bring me along in your life. Our life. My life.
Do not be ashamed of me, for I am you, and you are not a shameful thing.

Well.

That’s some food for thought.
Do better. Be better.
I’m trying.

Years End

and Years begin, a partial loss, and partial win.

I tend to voice the way I see the world in the collective sense, I use the royal ‘we’ and ‘us’ a lot, then tear it apart.
I don’t like when someone speaks on my behalf, I reckon it’s a way of safely holding an opinion.

If I put the weight on others, then they help me carry it. I’m not going to do that anymore.

I wonder why we, as a collective humanity, seem to have so much friction between our perceived borders.
Borders that are physical, metaphorical, and spiritual.
I’ve landed on fear, we are innately an afraid species. Fear keeps us safe, and we cling to that thorny safety with desperation.
Afraid we’re fucking up.
Afraid we’re wrong.
Afraid we’ll lose.
Afraid we’ll fail.
Afraid of others.
Afraid of ourselves.

World peace seems like an idyllic vision, but it flummoxes me.
We’re all human, why do we fight one another so hard?
Are the opinions of others rebelled against because we think they are incorrect, or do we try to eradicate them because we fear they aren’t?
Conflicting information is a threat to our beliefs, our understanding, and our identity.
We lash out at these dissenting realities in fruitless attempts to lend creedence to our own fleeting fantasies.

I think spicy food is delicious, the heat dances with flavor.
You think spicy food is awful, the fire is angry on the tongue.
I can attack the content of your character.
I can tell you that you’re wrong.
I can seek allies to affirm that spicy food is indeed delicious.

I can append ‘for me’ or ‘to me’ before or aft my utterances.

For me, spicy food is delicious.
Spicy food is delicious, to me.

People tend to take in contradicting opinions as a direct attack on their own.
I do not seek to establish my view as The Dominant Worldview, I seek to have my worldview seen.
Look at the world through my eyes, turn your gaze to cloud streaked skies.
We cannot take in the entirety of existence, there’s too much of it.
We can share what we see and paint a bigger picture together.
We tend to scribble over each others scrawlings to claim ownership, to assert our assumptions.

Why?

If someone tells you something you don’t agree with, you can believe them without changing your mind.
Do that.

Who cares?

I do.

8.16.22

The only thing that makes me different from you, is cosmic circumstance.

We are in the same scenario, but what we do with it is up to us.
I used to do good because if I didn’t, I was damned.
Now I do good because it is the right thing to do.

This certainly doesn’t mean that I am gliding about the earth like an altruistic albatross, seeking to save those that are in dire straits.
It means I filter every interaction I am afforded through the lens of betterment.
I want to be cross that you were inconvenient, but I don’t know your circumstance, only that in another life, I am you.

So I do good for myself, in a roundabout way. I do good to make my other lives better. I do good to make your life better.
I do good to make life better, for it’s far too easy to errantly make life worse.

I spend a good deal of time asking myself Why?
Why am I like this?
Why do I think like this?
Why do I feel the burn to do better?
Why?
Why?
Why?

Is it because I have had my experience worsened by the callous actions of others?
It it because I feel good when I do good for others?
It is because I know my reflex is unhealthy, and in fighting my reflexes, forge a finer future?

Who gives a fuck why?

Regardless of the answer to why, I will do my best to try.
I put myself in the shoes of everyone I come across and wonder “How can I better their experience? How can I help? How can I enrich their lives?”

a small voice in the back of my mind pipes up, as it is wont to do in the (subjectively) most inopportune time.
”How can I apply this mindset to myself?”

This river of kindness spills forth from my self, but I am not allowed to drink deeply from the refreshing flow.

So it would seem, anyway. As if my enjoyment would lessen the availability for those downstream.
I sit at the source and admire the shine, I do not own it, but it is mine.

To survive, to thrive, I must quench my thirst.
I am not responsible for the betterment of humanity, but I find it my duty to vocally recognize the potential.

I can do better.

You can do better.

We can do better.

That potential cannot be realized without action, on both our accounts.
I serve as an example of what we can be, I recognize my flaws, and accepting yours set me free.

Jesus said ‘Love Thy Neighbor’, not ‘Change Your Ways To Be Exactly As Your Neighbor.’

Be yourself with fearless, borderline reckless abandon.
Be yourself with the joy of a child dancing in a sunlit clearing among the dandelions.
Be yourself without invalidating the self of others.

Loving yourself and others is possible without homogenous humanity.
The beauty of our individualistic perspectives is the opportunity to live vicariously and learn through the lens of Other.

Your whole life will be experience through the lens of Self, and the only way to experience otherwise is to open yourself up to Other.

You can do it.
I can too.
Thank you for reading,
My name is Drew.