when i'm god everyone dies

"Anybody can become angry — that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way — that is not within everybody's power and is not easy."
[Aristotle]
I've always wanted to open minds.

Perhaps to better the world.  Perhaps to curse people with the selfsame introspection that haunts me.

Whatever my reasons, I hope this project helps my cause.

There was a time, a few years back, that I was sitting at a table in my apartment in Halifax, chatting with my friend Earl.  We were probably playing Magic cards at the time, I can't remember it very clearly.  I can't even remember exactly how the conversation went exactly.  It's not the event that sticks clearly in my mind, you see, only the feeling, the sense of it.  The subject of violence and crime in downtown Halifax came up, particularly in the Gottingen street area, a predominantly black neighbourhood.  Halifax has a lot of racial tension and prejudice.  A lot more than a lot of people there realize.  A lot more than I knew at the time.

I said it was unfair to be racist and characterize blacks as criminal.  I said that the situation in the neighbourhood was unrelated to the skin colour of the people living there.  I suggested instead that it had to do with the economic situation there: a lot of low-rent housing and such.

Earl was never one to mince words much.  He pounced on what I said, accusing me of being prejudiced against the poor, of blaming those with less money than I for the ills of society.  It wasn't an angry argument, just a spirited debate between two good friends.

And I lost.

And I don't think either of us realized that day that he changed my life and my thinking forever.  That didn't sink in for me until later.

Since that day I forever endeavour to open my mind farther, to remove as much prejudice as I can.  I find it interesting to explore where my false notions lie, where the programming of my life experience needs correcting.  In Taoism, it is suggested that to truly understand the world, we need not learn more, but rather that we must forget more: we must shed the false notions our limited experience of the world has given us, view it as if we'd never seen it before, in order to return to a truer understanding of what we encounter.

I think the human mind is like a relational database.  In order to remember things, we build associations, create little "rules" in our minds.  After a while, these rules become instinct.  And once those rules are formed, even the largest exceptions cannot make us throw them away.  We keep creating little patch updates to our software, but refuse to throw out the buggy code and go back to the design board.  Personally, I have a few "bugs" that are definitely big enough that I should go back to the drawing board to redesign the rules.  Unfortunately, with the human mind, that's incredibly hard to do.

Patrick F. Constantine: Version 29.1.5: Known Bug List

1. [Minor fault.  Repeatable.  Infrequent.]  As much as I consciously view the races as equal but different, I find myself inherently more suspicious of black strangers when out in public.  The second the instinct hits me, it is immediately followed now by a feeling of guilt, as I beat myself up over it and force myself to set it aside and judge all people as individuals.  The fact that I've encountered more exceptions to this rule than actual proof has failed to alter the instinct that was programmed into me by the predominant racist ideas circulating throughout our society.

Future patch updates will continue to address this issue.  Current workaround is getting to know people as individuals.

2. [Minor fault.  Repeatable.  Infrequent.]  As much as I view the sexes as equal but different, my gut reactions to hearing of sexual histories differs for men and women.  Hearing a man talk about a threesome with 2 women raises an instinctive "COOL!" in my mind, while hearing a woman tell me of being with 2 men raises an instinctive "SLUT!"  It, too, is immediately followed by a brief feeling of guilt, as I force myself to set it aside as an antiquated and incorrect notion.

Future patch updates will continue to address this issue.  Current workaround is getting to know people as individuals.

3. [Moderate fault.  Repeatable.  Occasional.]  I mistake an inability to speak or write English clearly with an inability to think intelligently.  And by "clearly" I mean from my point of view.  Here in Newfoundland, Canada, there are basically two "types" of Newfoundlanders: "townies" (people from the city of St John's) like msyelf, and "baymen" (people from the smaller communities around the province).  "Baymen tend to speak with an accent, sometimes a very thick, hard-to-understand accent.  Whenever I hear such an accent, a part of my brain immediately thinks "Fuck, what an idiot.  Where'd you learn to talk?"

Future patch updates will continue to address this issue.  Current workaround is getting to know people as individuals.

4. [Moderate fault.  Repeatable.  Occassional.]  I have a very difficult time respecting the intelligence of anyone who believes in a personified god.  I consider the followers of most organized religions "sheep" who are either too lazy or simply unable to rationalize their own view of the world and whatever purpose it may have for them.  It's an area in which I'm definitely very biased, and I wouldn't know how not to be, were I so inclined.

There are currently no plans to address this issue in future updates.  Current workaround is getting to know people as individuals.

5. [**Major fault**.  Repeatable.  Frequent.]  It's been said that Bobby Fischer was as good at chess as he was because he held the entire world in contempt, that he felt no one he ever met was as good a player as himself.  I think sometimes that I'm like that.  I'm intelligent.  I'm very intelligent.  I'm that type who walks into his high school final exam for advanced mathematics without having bothered to so much as crack a book to study, leaves after only an hour, and then shrugs when he finds out he scored 100%.  And while sometimes I curse my overanalytical mind, particularly when I find my own feelings beneath my own mental microscope, I also revel in the feeling of power my intelligence brings.  I consider myself smarter than almost everyone I've ever met.  I consider very, very few my intellectual equals.  And all that only amounts to pride or egotism if I just left it there, inside my own head.  But I also have a sort of cut-off line in my mind, and I treat people differently when I perceive them as falling below that line.  I show very little respect to people whose intelligence does not, in my opinion, reach that certain level.

While it might be desirable to address this issue in future updates, development simply doesn't know where to start.  There are no known workarounds.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, for better or for worse, is how this product ships right now.

10 rules to live by

"He is a benefactor of mankind who contracts the great rules of life into short sentences, that may be easily impressed on the memory, and so recur habitually to the mind."
-- Samuel Johnson --

The Torn Curtains Project 2 poses us with the task of coming up with 10 Rules to Live By.  I've written a similar work before myself, with My Treatise on Life (in the Philosophy section), so some of what I present here may seem like a bit of a reiteration of that work, because I've not changed my mind much, but hopefully I will also talk about a few other points here so as not to be completely unoriginal.

Without further adieu...

10 Rules to Live By

1.  Get to Know You.

To commence any journey, even the journey of life itself, you always need to know two things:  where you are, and where you are going.  Most people don't actually have that much of a picture of themselves.  They have some vague ideas about what they want and what they are capable of, but most do not actually give much thought to what it is exactly that makes them happy.  Figure it out.  And not just the big things, like starting your own business.  Give some thought to the little things too, like having matching socks or eating peanut butter sandwiches before bedtime.  Think of the things you really want out of life, so that you can plan the best ways to get them.  Where are you?  Where do you want to be?  Plan your route from A to B.

2.  Accept Responsibility for Your Life.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, boo hoo, you got dealt a shitty lot in life.  Think of life as like a card game: you can never be certain you'll get a good deal, so instead you must rely on skill to get you through.  Sure, some people "have it better" and some people "have it worse", and sometimes people do shitty things to you (just as you sometimes do to them), but all that means is that you need to take charge of your life, take responsibility for finding your own happiness.  Many of the most monumental events of your life will be as beyond your control as the weather.  So dress warm, but in light layers, and keep the mittens in one pocket and the sunblock in the other.

3.  Learn.

If you want to get anywhere, it pays to pay attention to what's going on.  Consider your greatest mistakes your greatest opportunities for learning experiences.  Life's greatest tragedies are often very "character-building".  I know it sounds cliche, but it became a cliche for a reason: it's true.

4.  Adapt.

Do not be afraid to grow and change.  You cannot stay the same forever.  Just because you always did something one way doesn't mean you can't learn to do it another.  Maybe your old ways were wrong, or maybe just outdated, or maybe you just need a fresh new outlook.  The only constant in the world is that it is ever-changing.  If you intend to exist in it, you'll need to be flexible to your ever-changing environment.  Maintain an ever-opening mind, and an ever-evolving mentality.  Grow.

5.  Think Carefully.

Carefully consider your decisions.  Everything you do has an impact, at least on your life, and probably on the lives of others.  Note too, that everything you don't do also has an impact.  Failing to make a decision is, in a way, a decision in itself.  When you take responsibility for your own life and happiness, it empowers these decisions and indecisions.  Take that seriously.

6.  Feel Recklessly.

Emotions control people, not vice versa.  Never tell yourself "it's wrong for me to feel this way".  Feelings simply happen.  They are a part of you.  They are an unsolicited but natural response to the events of your life.  What you do about them, on the other hand, is what you can control.  Feeling angry is natural, normal, and healthy.  Taking that anger out on others is wrong.

7.  Make Timely Decisions.

One of the most simple mistakes I think most people make is trying to decide something at the wrong time.  Every decision has a sort of "deadline", when it must be made, or after this time it will be too late to act on each possible avenue.  But before that time one should be gathering all possible information and studying the situation carefully.  Instead, people tend to make their decisions too early, and possibly even stick with them later when more information proves it to be wrong, only because they "made up their mind".  When you look at a situation, ask yourself "when do I need to decide?"  Decide then.

8.  Be Brave.

If you intend to pursue happiness in your life, you will need to take risks.  Rewards seldom come without risks.  And big rewards seldom come without big risks.  So grit your teeth and take some plunges.  If you succeed, congratulations.  And whenever you fail, see rule 3 and keep on trying.

9.  Persist.

Many things in life are difficult.  Many things are complex.  Sometimes there isn't a simple solution that can be easily discerned.  Sometimes you need to just try and try and try.  And with each time you try, you learn a little more.  And eventually, if you persist enough, you succeed in overcoming your obstacle.

10.  Honour Thy Friends.

Loyalty amongst friends is a real treasure.  Knowing there are others you can depend on helps you through the most difficult of decisions, and keeps you alive through the greatest of tragedies.  But this loyalty goes two ways.  You can only expect from friends as much as you offer up yourself.  If you want them to be there for you, then be there for them.  If you want them to never betray you, then never betray them.  Be as good a friend to others as you want them to be to you.

how to console a grieving person

"The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,
the more joy you can contain."
-- Kahlil Gibran, "The Prophet" --

First, one must clearly understand and identify grief. Grief to me is any time someone is dealing with something gone "wrong" in their life. It could be the death of a friend or relative. It could be a breakup. It could be an unexpected pregnancy. Or a car accident. Or a large debt. Or a social faux-pas. Or an argument with a friend or lover. Or quitting smoking. Or spilling milk when you take the cartoon from the fridge. Grief, to me, is any time something is "wrong". I put that in quotes, because most often, acceptance of these situations lies in the realization that nothing is "wrong". It's simply life. We cope. We move on.

I see grief in the simple 3-stage way, not the more complex 7-stage one. In the 3-stage view, grief can be seen as:

a. shock (disbelieving)
b. disorganization (confused)
c. re-organization (moving on)

It's not always necessarily in order. You lapse from the latter stages back into the earlier ones, often when some little thing sets you off. One day you are moving along, seemingly after putting everything behind you, and some little thing reminds you of the past, and suddenly, BAM!, and you're back into shock again.

Anyway, with this in mind, and without further delay:

---

-- How to Console a Grieving Person --
(or at least a grieving Pat)

1. Don't say the typical customary statements.

It's like a bad sales routine. One person after the other gives you the same old pitch, and you didn't believe it the first time. Shortly after my mother died, it got to the point where I thought if one more person said either "my condolences" or "sorry to hear about your loss" or "sorry to hear about your mom" I figured I'd finally lose it and starting throwing flurries of punches.

Let me be very clear about this: No, there really is no right thing to say. Nothing that you can say can make the pain go away. Nothing you can say can really speed the process of healing. A moment's spark, a moment's hope, a moment's relief. These are the best you can hope for. "Healing" is simply a matter of time. Your words are seldom medicine, and when they are, they treat the symptoms, not the cause. The grieving mind simply needs to sort out a hell of a lot of shit inside it, and there is nothing that anyone can say or do that will speed that along.

Why say anything then? Or why distinguish what you do say? Because in the realm of wrong or neutral things to do or say, some things are far more wrong than others. And for me, that unoriginal, repetitious, "my condolences on your loss" shit ranks right up there as worst case scenario. If you truly are sorry to hear about it, then tell me so, but do pay me the respect of doing it in your own words, not the same ones someone else used just five minutes earlier, because otherwise it just lacks credibility.

Very-Wrong: "My condolences on your loss. If there's anything I can do, just let me know."

Not-As-Wrong: "Listen, I just heard what happened from Joe-Billy-Bob-Sue and I know you must be going through a really hard time right now. If you're not busy later, give me a call and we can go out for a coffee or a movie or something."

2. Never tell anyone you "know just how they feel".

No one ever knows exactly how someone else feels. Ever. To say otherwise is simply a lie. Just because my mother died doesn't mean I know exactly how it feels for everyone losing a mother. My relationship with my mother may have been very different than theirs, just for starters. To say I have some idea how they feel is true. When you tell someone you've been through a similar experience, and therefore appreciate and sympathize, yes, that helps. Very much sometimes. But if you try to tell someone in deep grief you know "exactly" how they feel, that you can empathize... get ready to duck.

Very-Wrong: "I lost my Object-of-Grief a few years ago myself. I know exactly what you are going through."

Not-As-Wrong: "A few years ago I lost my Object-of-Grief. I won't say I know what you are going through, because it is different for everyone, but I know it was a really hard time for me, and that it must be a really difficult time for you too. If you need someone to talk to about it..."

3. Don't Play Devil's Advocate

Even if you are in disagreement with their decision, and even if you think you know what's best, if you want to protect your friendship with this person in the long run, you'll not attack them at their weakest moment, when they are most in doubt of themselves and their decisions, by questioning those decisions. If you are really concerned that they are doing something wrong, if your argument actually has true merit, let it stand against them when they are at their strongest. Kicking a friend when they are down is a cowardly betrayal.

Old Taoist saying: When you push something, it moves away from you. Think about that.

And be warned of this as well, it is easy to do this without even meaning. In the disorganized (confusion) stage of grief, there are many questions they must resolve in their mind. If you choose to reiterate those questions for them, pushing those painful dilemmas at them faster, it could be just as bad as a full-out assault against their failing ego. Saying "Did you get a chance to say a proper good-bye?" to someone whose is grieving the death of a friend will seldom meet with an answer of "Oh yes, we squared everything away 100%. There was absolutely nothing left for us to say." How often is someone satisfied that the death of someone around them was timely? All it does instead is drive home the wedge of doubt in their mind that is eating away at them as they're already asking it of themselves. Your questioning it puts them one step closer to telling themselves "no", because your doubt reaffirms theirs. How different is that from saying "So, didn't get a chance to say a proper good-bye, did ya? Bet that sucks, huh? Shoulda said something while you had the chance, putz!"? In fact, the only difference is that they'll consider the former a simple blunder on your part and say nothing of it, but reel, wounded, in silence. Is this what you want?

Be cautious what you ask.

4. Avoid Making Promises or Giving Advice

Think about this: If they take your advice and it's wrong, you've let them down when they most needed you and chose to rely on you. They'll end up resenting you for it. If your advice is right and they take it, the next time trouble strikes they'll be knocking on your door. And the day you are wrong or don't have any advice, when your font of wisdom has run dry, then the resentment and bitterness will come, because they couldn't rely on you when they needed you most (recently).

Ever consoled a friend on a breakup and told them that the other person was an asshole anyway who didn't deserve them only to discover they were back together a week later? Made your relationship with them both a little tricky after that, didn't it?

Don't. Don't. Don't. Don't. Well Pat, you keep saying don't do this and don't do that, but what the hell should we do then?

5. Just Be There

If life is like sailing an ocean, then every little change that comes our way is like a small wave: it rocks your boat gently, pushing it in a direction. Sometimes it helps, because it pushes your little boat in the direction you want to go. Sometimes it makes things more difficult, because it pushes against you, perhaps setting you a little off course. Sometimes, it is so small it just laps against the side and makes no difference at all.

The kind of grief that comes from tragedy is like a storm at sea, and it may capsize you or send you spinning. You are no longer certain what direction you are going in or even want to go in. You feel as though rowing is useless. It seems so futile, you may even think it easier to let yourself drown.

So I've fallen out of the boat in the middle of the storm and I'm panicking. The question is, what are you going to do?

Recite swimming instructions out of a book to me, the same ones I've heard a thousand times before? I'm drowning here, and you're not helping.

Tell me you know just how I feel because you almost drowned once? I'm drowning here, and you're not helping.

Lecture me on the fact that I should have been wearing a life jacket, or turned the sail the other way? I'm drowning here, and you're not helping.

Promise things will be better once I'm back in the boat? Or give me advice for how to avoid falling out in the future? I'm drowning here, and you're not helping.

So what should you do? Be there. Be my rock.

It's not because I might need a shoulder to cry on. It's not because you think I might want someone to talk to. It's not because I'll need someone to bounce ideas off of. It's not to distract me from my problems, or help me find solutions. Those things are all important, but they are not the real reason you are needed.

Life is chaos. There is always change. The sea is never silent. But when the big wave hits, you need something solid to hold on to. You need something, even just one thing, to be constant. Something that doesn't need to be questioned. Something so solid its mere existence provides solace. There must be something, just one simple thing, that amongst all the change, the winds, the rain, the spinning boat, there must be one thing you can rely on. There must be one foundation where a foothold can be found. One unmoving reference point from which you can take a bearing.

Be a rock.

The easy part is, rocks don't actually do much. They just sit, in silence, demonstrating a certain solidity, or, from another point of view: "a complete absence of change". The unchanging friend is the Yang-rock to the Yin-storm in progress.

But the hard part is, rocks don't actually do much. For all you want to help, you probably can't. You must be patient. You must be very patient. You need to understand that a drowning man will climb you like a ladder if you're in the water with them. You may receive harsh undeserved words in outbursts, or requests for answers you don't have or shouldn't give. You will feel helpless. You want to help, to somehow push them back into the boat. But rocks don't push. Rocks can't push. Rocks just sit, and let themselves be a stepping stone. But in doing so, in being that stepping stone, in representing that solidity amongst change, in being something that doesn't need to be worried about, that rock provides exactly the service that is needed.

When the grief-stricken mind is in shock, it needs to see that not everything has changed.

When the grief-stricken mind is in a state of confusion, it needs to see that some things need not be questioned or worried about.

When the grief-stricken mind is moving on, it needs a solid starting point as reference.

-- Be a rock. --
(or at least be Pat's rock)

---

It is important to realize that when the more grief-stricken someone is, the harder it is for them to think coherently or care much about anything. To the confused-state grief-stricken mind in particular, it is almost inpossible to focus on anything other than the problem. And it is almost impossible to feel anything other than pain or nothing. You don't want to be a part of the pain. You must be prepared to be a part of the nothing.

I got some really great work done today on a new installation for our software. I didn't get it done because I was in good-spirits, or because I felt it important. In fact, I probably couldn't have given less of a shit about it at all. I got it done only because it was a welcome distraction when the alternative was to sit around hurting. Given the choice between pain and nothing, for a little while, I was able to focus on the nothing, just to take a break from the pain.

the dew of little things

For in the dew of little things,
the heart finds its morning and is refreshed."
-- Kahlil Gibran, "The Prophet" --

One of my cats, Pan, is dead.

He was struck by a car this evening and killed. Someone who passed by later came to our door about two hours ago to tell us there was a cat lying in the road that might be ours. As I write this, his body rests in a cardboard box, covered in one of the new towels Jenna bought at the mall today, out on our back deck. "Somewhere cool", as the vet advised me, until morning, when I can bring it to them to have it cremated. To have him cremated. He died from a head injury, and I'd guess quite swiftly.

Just this evening, in a conversation with Jenna, I characterized my cats as among my best friends. Just today a few of us marvelled over how amazing it was that he was such a good hunter for such a dumb cat. I'd taken to calling him Nimrod the past couple of days. You'd figured the brighter brother Jethro would make a better hunter, but he's not.

I've been walking around this evening in the cool night air. It's a beautiful night. Interesting that. The world moves in mysterious ways sometimes. Jenna's been with me. I worry a little for her. I don't know how she's coping with my silence in all this.

I tried to find a picture of him to post with this entry, but I couldn't seem to locate one and I'm not in the mood to keep searching.

Pan was a happy cat. I think he led a marvellously happy life as cat live's go. And while I knew a few months ago that letting them start going outside was a risk, especially to Pan, being as dumb as he was, they've never seemed happier as when they've been able to come and go and play outside in the yards.

Pan's life brought me great happiness. There's something very special about the love a pet can show you. Something very simple. Something very wonderful. And not always even by the times they come around looking to be cuddled and such. I loved how he would often come into my room at night to sleep next to my dresser just a few feet from my bed. And I loved how when I got out of bed in the morning he'd hop in just a little bit later to curl up in the sheets still warm from my body. I loved the way he'd make that funny noise when he was hunting flies or watching birds. I loved the way he'd lie on his back in his "love me" pose when he wanted some attention, or forgiveness when he'd done something wrong.

It all still seems very surreal. I can't believe I'm sitting here typing this. My head aches. My throat aches. I want to throw up, and still feel like I might.

I should perhaps, amend my Torn Curtains project: it seems I am still capable of feeling wrath. I realize he might have been dead on impact. I realize that it was likely his own dumb fault because the little fucker couldn't figure out to stay out of the road. But I'd also bet that whoever struck him either didn't bother to stop, or fled after they did. And if only they'd taken the time to share in our grief by coming to us when it happened. Or if, on the off-chance, it meant we might have discovered him still alive and had a chance to save him, the world would seem a little less cold and pointless right now. And for denying me that, if they have, I curse them. May they live as many sleepless nights over this as Pan lived fun-filled days.

I always say that every moment of joy is purchased with a moment of sorrow. Yin and Yang. This is the way of the world. And for all the frustrating moments that Pan's stupidity brought me, the joy his presence in my life brought me seems measureless, and the sorrow I feel now at his loss just as, and only the beginning of my "evening up". I guess I have many sorrow-filled days ahead of me to even the score.

If you are inclined to call, don't. I don't feel like talking to anyone about this. I'm not feeling very talkative. If you are inclined to write, go ahead, but I may not be inclined to respond.

To Bernice, who shared the cats with me for most of their lives, my heart goes out to you too. I'm sure this will strike home with you as well. When Bernice and I split, we decided to never separate the cats, on the basis that they'd lived together all their lives and loved each other so much that we figured either would go out of its mind without the other. Jethro has not started crying yet, but it's only a matter of time. How do you explain to a cat that his brother is dead and won't be coming home again?

I found myself sitting on my deck a while ago, talking to a dead cat. I imagine I'm about to head back out there again after I post this. I told him:

"I can only hope that I've managed to show you in your life even a fraction of the happiness you brought to mine."

I'm sorry, Pan.

I love you.

ones (excerpts from "nobody panic")

... When I look about at all my friends, and realize how very different they are, I wonder sometimes how the heck I ended up being close to such an odd assortment of people.  I mean, some of them can't even stand each other really, so what is this one unifying quality, this one commonality that I find so precious, that I see in each of them, that draws me to choose them?  I understand what that quality is, you see, but there just aren't words for it.  It's a certain blend of companionship, loyalty, compassion, respect, and so on, that makes them "just right".  I come across certain people and think "he is one" or "she is one".  And I have many good friends I don't think that about.  These are the ones who will always remain in that sort of "second circle".  They will be close, but never that close.  These are people I might spend a great deal of my life and times with, and with whom I may share a very special piece of myself every now and then, but these are still people with whom I cannot share everything and anything.


Only those ones can I give my all.  With ones I feel like I could reveal any thing about myself to them, and they would not judge me for it.  They would not stop loving me, or even lose the tiniest notch of respect for me over it.  As hard as I think, I can find in my mind, in all my life, only 2 or 3 small elements of my life, events of my childhood, that I have been unable to share with one...

... I strongly considered listing the ones here today, but I fear that those close friends of mine not on the list will find it a grave insult, not realizing that I need them in my life as much, just in a different way.  There are some who are obvious, of course, for anyone who reads my journal, such as Geoff.  Some of the others might not even be so obvious as you might think.  The list would surprise a few people.


And even when someone does fit the bill to be one, it doesn't even necessarily mean that I will have that sort of relationship with them.  They have to feel that way about me, for instance.  In fact, I've some close friends with whom I struggle over that, because I feel they could be one if only they could reciprocate that sort of trust with me.  Hard to share all of yourself with someone who doesn't share back.  And not necessarily out of a lack of trust, perhaps just by the nature of their personality.  Nonetheless, it keeps that special connection from happening...


... And I was fearful that in my optimism I might mistake someone as one when they were not.  This is what has broken my heart in the past.  It's earth-shattering to me when I treat someone as one only to wise up later and realize I'd misjudged them in my optimism or desire.  The realization that I've overestimated them is a harsh disappointment, even though it is not really a reflection on their character, just my misinterpretation of it.

meanwhile back at the ranch

"Running over the same old ground. What have we found?
The same old fears, Wish you were here"
-- Pink Floyd, "Wish You Were Here"

I love to look back so often and marvel at how much my life has changed, how much I've changed, following Mom's death. I so much enjoy how much I consider myself to have learned from that. How much I've grown in a positive way.

While I don't speak of it often, I do also continue to be disgusted by so many things that have not changed. So many parts of myself I reflect on and realize... *shaking head*... have slipped back to right where they were.

I wish so much I could feel the passion, even if it meant rage, but the passion for life that I had for a while, after the insanity and confusion had subsided, but before I'd slipped back to being as hum-drum as before. When I felt like I knew something no one else did, like I appreciated so much more clearly that life is short and you've got to make the most of it. A time when I was ready to "gra'hab da bull by de urns". But I'm not like that anymore. All the same old fears have returned really. All the same old ways. Sure, I think differently now. I see the world differently now. But for all my novel thinking, I'm still just as paralyzed by my own fears or laziness as I was before it all happened.

I don't want to be.

In a way, that's what you give up when you let go of the pain. You give up the realization. You can't keep the passion without keeping the hurt.

I did go to Dad's. Hadn't seen him in quite a while either. I really should drop by or call more often. We chatted. Mom didn't come up in conversation until I was leaving. I was beginning to wonder if he even remembered. That might sound odd, but you'd have to know my father. He's not literate, so he's not so good with calendars, etc. He's retired, so it's not like he needs to track the days at all. He just needs to know when it's Sunday so he can go to church and that's about it. So I was actually beginning to wonder if he knew what day it was, but as I went to leave he finally brought it up.

The going-away party for Mike was ok, but I left and came home (ta dah, I'm here, right?). I wasn't having that great a time, and I was being bombarded with jokes and questions about my day off, because apparently not a single person knew why and no one actually asked directly so I didn't say. I didn't want to dampen the mood.

Plus I'm a little uncomfortable getting drunk around the office girls. A little afraid some morning I'll wake up and remember something vague about telling two of them I have a big crush on them. "Crush". Seems so childish when I put it that way. Doesn't matter, they're both "taken" already.

So, the question of the day seems to be: "How was your day off?" Fine, thanks. I've lied to everybody else and said that, why not you too? Truth is, it wasn't fanstastic, it wasn't terrible. I haven't been thrilled with laughter, and I haven't broken down sobbing either. It's just one more boring melancholy day like so many others I've been having lately anyway. And yes, as I do every year, I've spent much of it in reflection. Reflection on my mother and her death, reflection on my life since then, reflection on where my life is now, reflection on where I want my life to go next.

Somewhere more interesting than here. And that's about all I can say.

what you've all been waiting for

"So, so you think you can tell heaven from hell,
blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil, Do you think you can tell?"
-- Pink Floyd, "Wish You Were Here"

I've been very focussed on the numbers lately. I've been focussed on the numbers I think because I'm trying desperately not to let it all sink into the fog at the back of my mind. Trying desperately not to forget. I've a terrible memory of the past. It simply sucks. So much of my life is just... gone. Lost, in the recesses of my mind. It drives me really nuts sometimes.

And I feel it all slipping away. And I'm trying so desperately to hold onto it. It was the second, right? Or was it the third? And it was a Tuesday, wasn't it? Yes, it was the second, and it was a Tuesday. It was 6:42 PM when the phone rang. So I've been focussed on the pure statistical mathematics of it, as though that will somehow help me remember, just because I'm usually good with numbers. And I've gotten myself spun in circles, because the fog approaches, hell, the fog is here: I no longer feel certain of any of the details. I'm no longer sure how well I remember. And it's all trivial really. It's not like I'm going to stop being her son just because I can't remember well the words she said. They've already molded me. The same way you never remember every conversation you've had with your best friend but your feelings for them, based largely on those interactions, remain. My feelings for her remain. Perhaps the memory has dulled a little in the sense that I can no longer call visions to my mind, but...

7 years. I'm 28. It was one-quarter of my life ago. A few more years and it'll be one-third of my life ago. Then another decade and it will be one-half of my life ago. And it'll keep getting farther away.

For most people this probably all seems a little morbid. I mean, I'm supposed to "put it all behind me and move on", right? Perhaps I should be at work today, putting it behind me like my sister Nancy is trying to do right now. Martin's probably working too. And Susan. Nah, fuck ya. I have a different theory.

I want to remember. I want to remember every moment of my life with her that I can, and I want to remember it well. And that means remembering her death too.

It doesn't hurt to remember it anymore. It doesn't pain me to think about her. It only pains me sometimes when I think about the emptiness she's left. It only hurts when I focus on the fact that I won't ever see her again, or on the fact that so many people in my future will never have an opporunity to know her. That sometimes troubles me. Since she died I've had... hmmm... 4 girlfriends I think. Well, 4 relationships of any substance anyway. And I didn't care much that Pam, Jane, or Shelley didn't meet her. Not because I wasn't with them very long, but because I never conceived of them having much of a relationship with my mother, and certainly not a particularly interesting one. Shelley and Pam were both probably too shy to develop much of a relationship with her, and Jane would have been regarded by my mother in much the same way she'd regarded Jennifer (a "what the heck does he see in her?" way). It did always hurt a little when I thought about the fact that Bernice could never meet her. I wanted Bernice to meet her. I think they'd both have found one another quite interesting.

And I feel a little jealous of my siblings sometimes. Which is interesting really, when you consider that I'm not normally a jealous person at all, for any reasons. Envy is just very far from me. But I'm the youngest, and even Nancy is 6 years older than me. I was 21 when Mom died, so Nancy would have been 27. They all had an opportunity to know her as adults. I don't know that I was much of an adult at 21. My memories of my mother are as a child remembers its mother. My relationship with her was always of that between a child and an adult, and not one that transpired between two adults. I really think I'd have developed a very interesting relationship with her if we'd had more time together as adults.

I expect I will be going to Mike's farewell tonight. And after that I may be going out somewhere with Nancy just for a little while. Right now I'm going to cut off writing for a bit so I can have a Soul-Cleansing and then maybe walk over to Dad's. I walked over to visit Dad last year. That was when I had that terrible flu and he told me the remedy Mom had always used on him. I wonder what Dad is thinking of it all about now. I know what it's like to lose a parent but I still can't conceive of losing a mate. I'm sure it might be something I'll have to face someday, but I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

You know, in some ways, this isn't even the worst time. Mother's Day. Whenever it's just before Mother's Day I always have to put up with a rash of people asking me what I'm getting my mother for Mother's Day, and I have to politely as possible tell them she's dead without making them feel like total asses for bringing it up. And it always kills the conversation. And I always see their hearts sink as they awkwardly stammer out something and try to change the subject. But it's unavoidable, really. I mean, if you don't know me, how could you know. Last year I actually managed to get all the way to Mother's Day itself without a single person having that conversation with me, and then a waitress asked me why I didn't bring my mother along with me. I shrugged it off and didn't tell her that I'd have loved to.

Well. Shave, bath, dress, Dad's.

"How I wish, how I wish you were here"
-- Pink Floyd, "Wish You Were Here"

for my archer

"Wisdom is not in words.
Wisdom is meaning within words."
[Kahlil Gibran, "The Sayings of the Brook"]

My father is a good and simple man.

He and I could probably not be more different.  He worked with his hands all his life, while I've always relied on my brain.  He can't read or write, while I've attended universities, studied programming, etc.  He is often quiet and when he does speak slurs his words (he's hard of hearing) such that even I after all these years still have trouble understanding him, while I speak two languages and am known for my verbosity (and vocabulary, I guess).

Whenever we sit together in a room, we have almost nothing to say to each other.  He'll ask me how work is going, but beyond telling him I enjoy my job or that I got a raise, there is little more that I could explain to him that he'd understand.  I don't know that he's ever set eyes on a computer monitor.  When people ask him what I do he just tells them I work with "pewders" and that I'm doing well, making good money at it, and that I'm a really smart boy.

Needless perhaps to say, a man such as my father is grossly underestimated by most people who meet him.  In this day and age it's all about how much money you make, how many letters come after your name on your business card, how many Armani suits are in your closet, and whether your "beamer" is 5 gears or 6, right?  *shaking head*  At times I think even my own sisters underestimate him somewhat.  I definitely think they often fail to understand him.  I'm not saying I'm quite sure I do, but sometimes as we sit quietly in his living room, not knowing what to say to each other because we really have nothing in common to talk about, I look at him, I look at our relationship, I look at my youth, at his relationship with my mother, and there, in the silence, a certain wordless wisdom makes so much sense to me, and I realize that for all my verbosity, all my education, all my "sophistication", there are just some things in this world, some very beautiful things, that remain simple and precious and that all of human evolution has never changed or improved upon.  Things he understands, though he'd never be able to explain.

My brother once wrote something about him in one of those E-mail surveys that went around; it surprised one of my sisters when she read it.  Asked about his parents his comment on Dad was something to the effect that he was 'a far greater man than many who consider him their lesser.'

He stood by my mother all through her descent into being a quadrapelegic.  He changed his work hours and worked whatever shifts were necessary to allow him to care for her at home and still bring home what little money he could muster in order to support his family.  He understands things like loyalty and commitment.

I overheard a heated argument between my parents once when I was young.  My mother asked my father if he'd ever hit her, the way his father, whom he idolized to an extent, had done with his mother.  Mom knew he never would, and I think I heard his heart break when she even suggested it, there in the middle of an explosive debate.  I hear people talk about "cycles of abuse" and I shake my head.  You don't hit people you love.  Pretty fucking simple when you think about it.  "Moonie", as some of the neighbours dubbed him, figured it out.

He has always made it plain to me that whatever happens, there will always be a roof over my head and a bed for me to lie in.  I can always come back.  He reminds me of this almost every time I visit him.  He understands family.  My sisters failed to understand quite why he didn't want to sell the house after Mom died, or why, in spite of the fact that he's only there about 3 days a week now, he still refuses.  It's not about him.  It's about being a father and making sure his children always have the security of knowing there is that refuge if they need it.

After one of my sisters broke up with her on-again-off-again boyfriend once, he came to the house looking to speak with her.  My father met him at the door and lied to him, insisting Nancy wasn't home.  He told the boy, "there's two ways you can go back down those front steps: you can walk, or I can throw you."  When Nancy heard later from her (on-again) boyfriend what Dad had said, she expressed to me how pissed off about it she was.  'He doesn't understand!  Barry was coming over to try to sort things out.  See, Dad just doesn't understand these things.'  I looked at her and said, 'I think he understands perfectly.  Someone broke his daughter's heart, and he wasn't going to afford him an opportunity to do it again.  He understands that he loves you.  What more is there for him to get?'

Many times in my life I've done things that my sisters insisted would not meet with Dad's approval, especially because he was so "old-fashioned".  But Dad would forgive any one of us for anything.  We are all 'prodigal sons and daughters', no matter what we do.  He knows what it is to truly love someone, and what it means to support them in a time of crisis.

He cheats a little on his diet sometimes.  (He's diabetic.)  Nancy knows, of course, and thinks him foolish for believing he can slip it past her.  What she probably doesn't realize is that he knows she'll find out from the moment he does it.  He just likes his freedom, and likes bending the rules a little every now and then to enjoy himself.

There was a day, just once, months or maybe a year ago, I can't remember exactly when, that we sat in his living room and talked.  And that day, rather than the usual "Work is good.  How's your latest girlfriend?" conversation we so routinely have, he just opened up and started talking.  He told me all about what things were like in the house when I was young.  I suddenly saw this whole new perspective on my family and my youth.  A different angle I'd never considered.  And there, in that afternoon, chatting about my mother and my sisters and brother, he opened a whole world before my eyes just by telling me a few simple truths I'd never before realized.

I could read the works of Lao Tzu, or Buddha, or Gibran for years and not have the eye-opening that I got that day just because he chose to express to me, after all these years, a few simple truths I'd not noticed along the way.

And whenever I visit him now, we go through the same routine as we always did before: my work is good, how is his girlfriend doing, are you getting out to many dances, is Nancy still bugging you about your diet.  And I don't know that we will ever have that powerful conversation again like we did that afternoon, but that's ok.  I content myself with the wordless tranquility that comes from just sitting in my old living room, watching his eyes as they comb over the pictures on the mantlepiece.

For all the computers and palm pilots and cell phones and multi-national multi-million dollar website projects overseas, there are some things about this world that have never, that must never, change.  Fundamental things.  Simple things.  Understood by simple people, perhaps better than by the cell phone weilding, palm pilot carrying ones.

My father will never read this.  He can't.  And I'd consider printing it and going to read it to him, but he'd still not understand half of what I've said or why.

But the next time I see him I'll give him a smile and a hug and tell him how I've missed him.  Because the truly important things in life, like hugging someone you love when you've not seen them in a while, to let them know you missed and love them... this he understands perfectly.

If only those people who 'consider him their lesser' did, this world might, fundamentally, be a simpler, better place.

my treatise on life

Back in January 2000, while writing an online journal, I decided to sit and write for myself "My Treatise on Life" - a compilation of my own "rules for living".  I wrote it for a number of reasons, one of which was to have it for myself, as a reminder, to keep myself on track.  This is the latest revision.  Not much has changed.

---

Main Entry: trea·tise
Pronunciation: 'trE-t&s also -t&z
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English tretis, from Anglo-French tretiz, from Old French traitier to treat
Date: 14th century
1 : a systematic exposition or argument in writing including a methodical discussion of the facts and principles involved and conclusions reached 
-- Websters Online Dictionary

None of this is new.  I've just decided to put it all together in one place.  For me.  Because it seems sometimes I need a little reminder, a smack in the noggin, to get myself back on track.  And I'm not perfect.  And My Treatise won't be perfect either.  And many times I will slip off the path I'm setting for myself.  But all these imperfections add up to nothing.  We all lose sight of the trail sometimes.  But we keep moving in the right direction and get back on it again.  I've come to realize recently just how far I've strayed.  I'll be heading back.

And since I'm putting it to paper (figuratively speaking), I might as well put it here, and let you all see it too.  And by the end of reading it you'll understand why.  Maybe you'll think that you agree whole-heartedly.  Maybe you'll think that I'm full of shit.  But you can't read it and not think.  That is just not possible.

My Treatise

by Patrick F. Constantine
Jan 2000/Feb 2003

Pursue Your Own Happiness

Recognize that true contentment is when your wants are equal to your haves.  You cease to be at ease when the equilibrium is lost, particularly when your wants are greater.  Western thinking, ideas like capitalism, suggest ambition.  You increase what you have to meet what you want.  Eastern thinking, things like Taoism and Buddhism, suggest you decrease what you want until it matches what you actually have.  You don't need to subscribe to either theory.  Use both.  Use neither.  Make up one of your own.  Just understand when you are unhappy why.  And then set about to fixing it.

Maybe there's a god.  Maybe there's not.  Maybe there's a divine plan and you play a divine role.  Maybe there's no plan and you are nothing more than fertilizer.  But neither matters.  Enjoy your time here.  Start enjoying it now.  Not tomorrow, not after you get that "one more thing" done.  Start living.  Breathe.  Watch "Dead Poet's Society".  If you don't cry during the credits at the end, watch it again.  And again.  Watch it until you get the point.  Watch it until your heart bursts and you want to watch the sun rise.  And when you get that feeling in your heart, memorize it.  Then, for the rest of your life, chase it wherever you find it lurking.

It is important to understand the difference between pleasure and happiness.  Pleasure is temporary.  It is a heightened feeling that is fleeting.  You find pleasure in going to a movie, playing a game, or having an orgasm.  Happiness is a state of living.  It is how you feel, by default, from day to day.  You improve your overall happiness by things like pursuing your goals or fostering meaningful relationships.  When you understand the difference between these two things, it allows you to make better decisions.  There is nothing wrong with seeking pleasure - I'm a big pleasure-seeker myself.  But learn to recognize when you must choose between pleasure or happiness.  Find the strength and discipline to choose happiness, and your life will be fuller for it.

Take Responsibility for Your Own Life

If you want to be treated like an adult: act like one.  Recognize that no one... absolutely no one... owes you shit.  Not the government you elected, not the parents who raised you, not the friends you keep, not the employer who hired you.  You'll get laid off when there's cutbacks, friends will move away and on, your parents will die, divorce, or just have shit of their own to sort out, and your government will seldom, if ever, fulfill its election promises.  So when people talk about "rights", hear "priviledge".  There are no garuantees in anything.  Life is risk, and your joy is purchased with sorrow.  Your vacations are paid for in sweat.  Take responsibility for the pursuit of your own happiness.  Take the risks.  Suffer the consequences.  Reep the benefits.  Don't expect the world to give you anything on a silver platter: it's not going to.  Struggle for your successes.  Savor them slowly.  Admit your mistakes.  Learn from them quickly.  And when life decides to throw some shit at you, stand before the fan and take it in the face.  Wipe yourself off, swat the fan aside, move on.

Focus on Solutions and Not on Problems

Whine less and do more.  Don't focus on who else's fault something was, focus on how you are going to fix it.  Eagerly accept blame for anything that was your mistake and push past it.  Those mistakes (a.k.a. experience) are the foundation of your education.  See it, accept it, learn from it, try not to do it again.

And when you do this, two other important side effects will result.  First, you will begin to see the world in a more positive light, because instead of spending your time thinking about what's wrong, you spend your time thinking about what's about to be right, and once it is right, you won't have to listen to everyone else bitching about it either.  Second, you can become contagious.  All the other whiners will often drop what they are doing to help you enact your solution.  You may even find you're remembered as the one who saved the day, even after you were the one who screwed it in the first place.

When you are discussing problems, remember to never criticize character, only actions, decisions, or indecisions.  People can't easily change their character.  You shouldn't ask them to.  You can ask them to change their mind about something, or to do something differently.  Don't say, "You're an asshole!"  Say, "What you did upsets me, and here's why..."

Don't brood over problems.  Confront them right away when they are small.  When you take a dog's bone, it doesn't walk away and come back three days later to bark at you about it.  It barks now.  Take only enough time to calm yourself enough to think clearly, and then express yourself without bothering to brood.

Stop Fearing the Truth

Truth is a faultless tracker that will pursue you relentlessly.  Sooner or later, it will catch up.  When you fail to be honest, it's because you fear the confrontation that will result from telling it like it is.  So you flee, and throw up barriers of lies and deception to hide behind.  But you still never feel safe.  It's coming, and it's only a matter of time.  When you finally face it, it's twice as bad because you now have to deal not only with the original truth, but you have to face the consequences of your deception as well.  It takes more courage, but it is far, far easier, to just face it in the first place and get it over with.  Stop the running.  Stop the hiding.  Take it in the face and move on.

You will also discover quickly that the more honest you are with others, the more honest they are with you.  When you show yourself to be at ease with them, they come to be more at ease with you.

Cultivate Good Relationships

Be concerned with the quality of your friendships, not the quantity.  I don't have that many friends really.  But when I'm upset my friends are concerned and ask why.  When it looks like I need help they offer it.  When I'm obviously upset they comfort me.  And sometimes they surprise me by understanding me better than I even understand myself.

I have friends who "would help me bury the body."

Good relationships are built on a foundation of respect and honesty.  It is difficult to change the nature of a relationship once is it formed, so it is best to be respectful and honest right from the start.  And it is not enough to simply show respect for others, you must also demand that same respect from them in return.  Don't abuse others like playthings, and don't let them abuse you either.

Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

Try to never panic.  Only expend as much worry over a situation as it deserves.  The fact is, when you calmly sit back to think about a problem, there's either something you can do about it, in which case do, or there's nothing you can do about it, in which case worrying about it is basically just a masochistic waste of time.

I know it's impossible to simply stop worrying.  I worry every day.  I lose sleep for worrying.  But try hard not to.  Figure out what you can do, and do it.

Be Humble

People live in the present.  They will always be far more concerned with what you can do now than what you have done in the past.  Your diploma or degree may help you get hired, but whether or not you make Friday's deadline determines whether or not you get to keep your job.  You are not irreplacable.  Someone did whatever you're doing before you got there.  Someone will do it long after you're gone.  I got top marks in my class in Grade 4.  Do you care?  No.  Then neither should I.  Being proud of your achievements is one thing, but recognize that life never stops so neither can you.  If you pause to gloat, it'll move on without you.  And if you choose to flaunt it, so will your friends move on without you too.  The people who chose you (as their friend, employeed, whatever) don't need to be reminded of why.  They need to be shown why it's still proving to be a good decision.

Forget "Fairness" and "Revenge", And Make The World A Better Place

Leave everything in better shape than when you first found it.  If you borrow a car, give it back with more gas and cleaner than when you got it.  We often bog ourselves down with concepts of "fair" and "justice", but as an old radio commercial once said, '...if you keep doing things the way you've always done them, you'll keep getting what you've already got...'  If you want the world to improve and if you want your life to improve, you've got to take the action to make things better than they were when you arrived.

There's a part of the Tao Te Ching, which I've read translated a number of different ways, and none of them particularly good translations.  But here's my version (based on theirs, I can't read the original Chinese):

"When people treat me well, I treat them well, because they deserve it.

And when people treat me poorly, I treat them well, because the world becomes a better place."

Bleed Willingly

Be prepared to face pain.  When you are brutally honest, when you confront problems right away and face-to-face, when you pursue your happiness with reckless abandon, you will face pain.  You will face the pain that happens when you offend people by expressing truths to them they weren't quite ready to hear.  You will face the pain that happens when you tell someone you love them and they tell you they don't love you back.  You will face the hardship that happens when you figure out what it is that you want and choose to pursue it, only to fail and fall short.  You will face all these pains.  This is the price.  This is the cost of living.  But are you living, or are you just "passing through?"  That is the question you must ask yourself daily.  Don't settle for passing through.  Live.

And Most Important of All:  Be Yourself

If they love you for it, good.  If they hate you for it, screw them, find someone else who does appreciate you.  It's a hard line to take, but at the end of the day, you'll feel a lot happier knowing that a few people love you for exactly who you are than thinking a lot of people love you for the facade you've carefully painted, and wondering if they'll ever learn the truth and what will happen when they do.  And if not everything about you makes perfect sense... if some of it makes people scratch their heads and wonder... if they think you are outright insane to be on all fours peeing on fire hydrants at 3 AM (and stone cold sober I might add), so be it.  I like to take off my belt and wear it around my head.  I don't know why.  It feels good, so I do it.  That's just me.

A friend once told me he'd love to carry around a guitarcase full of books.  He figured people would see it and say, "So, you play guitar do you?"  Then he'd throw it open and say, "No, I like to read a lot of books though!"

Be the guy who listens to rap maybe twice a year and then, in ending his Treatise on Life, passes up men like Einstein or Ghandi to quote Ice-T instead...

"my brain's a hand grenade,
catch"
[Ice T, "Mind over Matter"]