Letter Never Sent

When I got home from hanging out with Susan and Steve I decided I try to seriously sit down and draw, an activity that used to be very important in my life. As a kid drawing was my primary mode of expression. I even used it sometimes to help make sense of the world around me and to feel better about bad experiences. I remember once in middle school while I was waiting in line for the bus some kid threw a can of coke at me. As a completely unexpected and random violent act it really freaked me out. When I got home that day

I drew a picture of the situation except in my depiction of the event I blocked the can of coke with my notebook. As I got older I often drew to commemorate important events or to express my emotions and thoughts, a drawing of my parakeet that died or about various lovesick crushes. The older I got the less I drew and the more I wrote. If I drew a comic, 50-75% of it would be writing. Now I rarely draw at all, and because I’m no longer in school and I spend a lot of time on the computer I rarely even handle a pen or pencil.

Tonight I wanted to draw something. I wanted to experience the in-the-moment zen-ness you experience when making something. I wanted to experience the feeling of satisfaction and enjoyment at summoning something from the paper because when I draw I almost never know how or if anything will come out. I found my pens and markers. I felt a little like the retired gunslinger who has to dust off his six guns for one last job. I guess when I finished with them last, a few years ago, I had left the ink in so they were hopelessly gummed up. They’re currently soaking in windex so I can use them later.

After I found something else to draw with I just sat there for a few minutes. This feeling is probably the worst part about drawing. For me the starting point has always been the hardest because when I start to draw I use the initial momentum to continue. If I don’t like how I start I might just give up. Anyway, the point is I had fun and I drew something. Maybe I’ll try some more later when I get my pens working.

I finally got around to watching Ghost Dog by Jim Jarmusch. I had been meaning to see it for a few years. It stars Forest Whitaker as a hitman who’s inspired by the Bushido samurai code of honor and conduct. The movie features passages from the Hagakure (which means ‘hidden leaves’ or ‘hidden by the leaves’) recorded from a series of conversations around 1716. There are some good lessons in it as well as some which are less useful but nevertheless interesting like this one:

The warriors of old cultivated mustaches, for as proof that a man had been slain in battle, his ears and nose would be cut off and brought to the enemy’s camp. So that there would be no mistake as to whether the person was a man or a woman, the mustache was also cut off with the nose. At such a time the head was thrown away if it had no mustache, for it might be mistaken for that of a woman. Therefore, growing a mustache was one of the disciplines of a samurai so that his head would not be thrown away upon his death. Tsunetomo said, “If one washes his face with water every morning, if he is slain his complexion will not change. ”

It’s interesting and maybe a little ironic that books like Hagakure, Musashi’s Book of the Five Rings, and Sun Tzu’s Art of War have been adopted so wholeheartedly by people in management and business.

Today I waited for an hour to get a replacement social security card. My original was lost when my wallet was stolen in 1998. The line was so long and slow. It wouldn’t move for fifteen minutes at a time. I was worried that I’d get a parking ticket as I only put in enough change for an hour, but I got back with exactly zero minutes left. What luck. The worst part is that at the beginning of the line you can’t really see how far the line is going or where it’s going to, so you feel a little like a cow being led into a slaughter house.

Some people would stand in line for an hour and when they finally got to one of two windows they would be informed that they were lacking some vital document which prevented them from obtaining a social security number for their children to which they greeted with understandable frustration and disbelief. I watched with ambivalence and suprisingly little sympathy as it meant that I would be able to move forward a small degree more quickly. While waiting in long lines you find yourself becoming more misanthropic and apathetic to the plight of those in line with you. You smell the sweat, breath, shampoo, and thick cologne of the other people in line and the heat of their bodies rises up like a steam that surrounds you, and you begin to wish you were somewhere else and you begin to notice how really ugly and oppressive everyone and everything is until your festering impatience is mingled with disgust and physical discomfort.

But then it was my turn and within literally one minute I was out of that Kafkaesque, bureaucratic, nightmare world. Sweet relief! I actually ran back to my car in the 100+ degree weather.

Here’s a completely unrelated photo of my cat kicking back. She just decided to relocate to my lap where she’s asleep purring:

I met up with Melissa and James this weekend at Burger Tex to see Melissa off before she leaves for the CIA (The Culinary Institute of America) in upstate New York. It seems like everyone is leaving town. Here we are with Melissa on this longhorn they bring out to 38th and Guadalupe on the weekends. His name was ‘Gambler’ and he had a smaller friend in training named ‘J.R.’ You can take a photo on them for ten dollars and if you bring your camera you can take your own photos too. James is apparently rocking the circa-1968 rolling stones haircut. He’s always jerking back his head to move his bangs out of the way. Aww.

I dreamt last night that I had a cherry tree in the garage. I picked a couple off and ate them and shared them with my mother and stepfather. They were very large, almost apple-sized, but I distinctly remember thinking I could taste the cherry taste. The dream dictionary had something nice to say about it:

Dreaming of ripe cherries can be considered a dream of wish-fulfilment. If you are picking or eating cherries: your wishes are being fulfilled. If cherries are sour or bitter you will be disappointed with love. Seeing rotten cherries denotes that somebody is gossiping about you. Dreaming of a cherry-tree in blossom is a good omen foretelling good fortune and happiness. If you are climbing a cherry-tree, you are going to start a short love affair. Falling off the cherry tree means that your adventure will end not in a very good way.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my patterns of sadness lately. Since my break up a year ago things have been more up and down than any other time since I was in high school. It has been a prolonged roller coaster ride. I’ve had to admit to myself that I get something out of feeling bad, maybe the intense emotion it brings like a punch in the chest or the familiar feeling of powerlessness I take on because I’m afraid to take the reigns of my own life, afraid to be responsible for something, or maybe I just like the attention and concern from people who care about me or the feeling of renewal when coming out of it like a butterfly emerging from a coccoon.

Feeling depressed allows me to let myself off the hook. To focus on feeling bad instead of looking around for ways to improve things. It’s not that I didn’t feel bad while I was in a committed relationship. Having someone around to care for and about me and to be close to kept sadness at a lower level…for a time. But even then, when I really think about it, wasn’t happy for too long at any time and toward the end of our relationship I really stopped working and dropped out of my own life as much as you can really do that. I pretty much lived on the computer and let things around me crumble. I now think the internet and computers might be just as deadening to the senses and emotions as alcohol. I neglected my relationships and my life because my emotional turmoil was so confusing and so seemingly tangled up that I gave up instead of trying to undo the knots. One thing I’ve never thought before but feel now is that I have a tendency to bottle things up inside me. This might come as some suprise to people who know me since I think others can always really tell what’s going on with me since it’s so obvious, but I feel like a lot of the times I’m really out of touch with my own feelings and have trouble acknowledging them to myself. When I feel a certain way or experience a certain fear I almost can’t really look at it.

So, I’m starting with the idea that I don’t like feeling sad, or at least it’s few benefits are not helping me have the kind of life I ideally would like. With this idea in mind I have been consciously considering the whos, whats, wheres, whys and hows of feeling depressed or sad. Why do I feel sad? What do I feel sad about? When does it happen? What do I have to do with it? Do I want to feel sad? Why would I want to? If I don’t like my life, how can I change it?

When I started asking myself these questions I started to see my own agency in how I felt. Perceptions followed by attitudes, followed by decisions, followed by actions, followed by the inevitable resulting situation. For the most part, I am completely responsible for feeling sad. Even if I’m not consciously deciding to feel down I can’t really say that events around me are causing me to feel a certain way. I can’t pass the blame that way especially when I hear about people in prison or close to death who understand the value of this life and who decide to make it mean something by being appreciative.

The point is, I have learned a lot about what makes me depressed and how to make myself feel better. I think wanting to change things has been an important step for me. Now it’s time for the harder part, actually changing the ways I see things and the hurt I cause so I feel something. Here are a list of things or activities you can do that have helped me feel less depressed:

• Avoid most anything dealing with the past. Do not read old love letters, or look at photographs. Do not even think twice about calling or emailing ex-boyfriends or girlfriends. If you do write any emails leave them in the outbox unsent. Put all old photos and letters in the back of the closet where you can’t get to them easily. You have no control over the past and cannot change it, why scourge yourself with tokens of it?
• Instead of reading old emails and letters, write new emails and letters. In other words, instead of wallowing in yourself cast your mind and emotions outward onto those OTHER people you care about, your friends and family. It’s been a long time since you called Mom and Dad hasn’t it?
• Stay busy. Clean your bathroom. Do some laundry. Go to the bookstore. Go out for coffee. Make lots of lists about things you’ve been neglecting and DO them. It’s actually fun.
• Get lots of sleep. Go to bed at a reasonable hour and get up at a reasonable hour. (I have trouble with this one more than any other) Few things will make you feel worse than feeling really bone tired and few things will feel better than jumping out of bed at dawn, fully rested, ready to kick ass.
• Spend time outside in the Sun. Go swimming or running. Offer to walk someone’s dog. Sunlight makes it almost impossible to feel really bad. Why is that?
• Spend time with friends. They will appreciate you thinking of them and you will feel better too. I usually go on jags where I’ll call everyone I haven’t seen in a while all at once and make plans to do something. Think of it this way, maybe they’re feeling down too and what feels better than a good friend calling to tell you they were just thinking about you?
• Focus on starting with yourself. Don’t expect the world to change to suit you. Focus on what you can control and change. For instance, if you want to be loved be lovable and love others.
• Enjoy a little music, a little art, a little poetry. Maybe do a little yourself. You don’t have to show anyone else. It’s purely for your own benefit.
• Don’t think about things that scare you, especially death and especially at night. In fact, if you find yourself getting sad at night get a cute nightlight or leave the lights on like I often do. You have no control over death or age, but you can control your fears. You will meet the future with the same weapons with which you meet the present. Isn’t it funny how something can seem scary from far away but when you finally get there it’s not so bad as the reality? Almost anything can be dealt with. Just don’t dwell on it too much. You’ll psyche yourself out. Coincidently, this is also the secret to getting into very cold swimming pools. Don’t think about how cold it’s gonna be. The reality is infinitely more manageable.
• Spend time around old people and children. You’ll be amazed how much you can learn about life from people who have just started it or are near the end of it. As the saying goes, old age finds us true children.
• And remember, always, always stay positive. It’s cliche but true.

My good friend and ex-coworker, Gabe, dropped by today while in town from Galveston. Turns out he’ll be teaching bilingual students this fall in his first full-fledged teaching position. We stopped by Freebird’s (his favorite place) and had some large burritos. Gabe and I used to have a lot of fun carpooling to work. We’d always stop for food on the way to or from work at Fedex. I remember he told me once when I wanted more tacos when I was done eating to wait 5 minutes for my stomach to catch up and feel full. He was right because five minutes later I felt completey full.

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I’ve gotten myself into this habit of not being able to fall asleep when I should. Usually by working the idea into my head that I’m not going to get enough sleep which little by little permeates my brain resulting in the reality of not getting any sleep whatsoever. It doesn’t help that I get home from work at 4am so if I want to do anything the following day I must go to bed almost immediately. Today I was planning on going into work at 12:30pm or so to do a few things and then go swimming at Barton Springs. I might try to stay up and go in to work at 5pm which will result in staying up around thirty-six hours by the time I’m done. Yes, I’m an idiot.

• Kindergarten: Some smallish hispanic kid, always up to no good. My doberman, Inga, bit him on the face when he snuck over the fence to check out her newborn puppies. I remember when we stole some of his older brother’s porno magazines. This brother used to make fireballs come out of his mouth using hairspray.
• First Grade: Paul Link, red haired even with light reddish eye lashes. I remember he always had a flat top and identified himself as an ‘Aggie’ which meant absolutely nothing to me at the time.
• Second grade: This is cloudy.
• Third grade: My little brother, Scott. We lived out in the country so we had a lot of time to ourselves. We usually played with the Halverson’s, our next door neighbors, or the De La Rosa clan across the road. With 17 children and 16 grandchildren there was always someone to play with.
• Fourth and Fifth grade: Sheldon Sugioka. He initiated me into the world of Tron and arcades. We pretended to throw frisbees like the people in Tron. He was very stoic but also very funny.
• Sixth Grade: Daniel Rupley and then Chris Paek. Daniel was the other kid in my gym class who was exactly 4’11” and 76lbs just like me.
• Seventh and Eighth Grade: Chris Paek. We always played this game of who could think up something to top the other person’s weapon. You know, I have a knife, you have a bat until at some point someone has nuclear weapons. We also got each other suspended on the last day of school in seventh grade when I ended up pushing him into a room divider during English class and then didn’t own up to starting it.
• High school: I think in high school I was above identifying people as my best friend. Either that, or it’s too hard to figure out who beats out anyone else.