Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Tantrums

She screamed upstairs. What's going on? I jolted from my couch, confused about what day or time it was. She screamed again, until she had no more breath, and then she screamed one more time. Is the house burning? Did she break a leg? Is she being beaten? The way she was screaming, she should have been stabbed. Then I heard my middle sister yell at her. Then my dad shouted. Whew. It was just Angie, my eleven-year-old sister unwinding from a long day. She does this quite a bit. She'll have a long day, usually filled with bike riding, swimming and watching way too much Nickelodeon with friends. Everything is sunshine and gumdrops, or so it seems. Then she comes home, and she crashes from her perch atop the clouds and she crashes hard. That's when the demons take over. Then she becomes a minefield, waiting for someone to make one false step. As soon as you do, BOOM! The tears start flowing and everything, regardless of how calm or reasonable it might be, merits a "SHUUUUUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" These little tropical storms of pre-teen hormones and sugar crashes happen about twice a week. I usually get frustrated with her and I started to last night, but then I realized, Hey, I'm pretty sure I did the same thing she's doing last week.

Two weeks prior was probably the best six day span that I've had in recent memory. It started off with a softball doubleheader in the rain and a free Spoon concert later that night and it ended with a fan-freakin-tastic 2+ hour Cake concert in New Haven with my lady friend. In between, the week was filled with jam sessions, stress-free work days, studying German and working on my Fulbright Application. I was living large... as least large in my standards.

Waking up in New Haven on Sunday, however, I felt tired. I felt drained. And worst, I felt cranky. Sitting in traffic on the way home was almost enraging. At work the next day, an overturned 18-wheeler at the toll plaza made me 30 seconds late for work, an arrival that earned me a week's worth of showing up at 8:45. The next day I went to play guitar at my friend's place and blew out my front-right tire as I parked in front of his house. My week was filled with little mental miscalculations like this one. My head felt heavy. I felt slow and incompetent. I started getting down on myself. It almost felt impossible to be happy or laugh. God Tom, you suck at EVERYTHING. Why do you even play guitar? Why are you even applying for a Fulbright? Yes, these were actual thoughts.

Then Thursday, I felt exceptionally crappy. The computer screen seemed to burn my eyes moreso than normal. My head hurt. I felt weak and tired. I tried going for a run after work to see if exercise would make me feel any better. Within the first 200 feet my face and sinuses felt like they were going to explode. And then, Ah ha! I wasn't depressed or suddenly incompetent at everything, I was just sick.

By Saturday, I was back to being my obnoxiously optimistic self with my irrational emotions safely corralled. But I guess even at 23, I'm not immune to reverting back to an eleven-year old girl.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

The Culprit behind America's Downfall

In this troubled time, the Great Recession, there has been ample finger-pointing and blame-gaming. "It's the GOP's fault," some chide, "for obstinately blocking everything Obama has tried to pass." Others counter, "You mean that Muslim reincarnation of Hitler? It's his fault for trying to turn this nation into the Soviet Union version 2.0." Still others shout, "No, it's Wall Street's fault for so consciously misleading us into our very own destruction. And what about big oil destroying our environment? And big business shipping our jobs overseas? And terrorism! How could you forget terrorism?"

But, America, none of this rabble-rabble-rabbling is correct. The chaos has spread enough and it's time you all knew the truth. I'll tell you who's to blame for America's downfall: me.

I'm to blame for the healthcare crisis. I know I need to exercise. I know I shouldn't eat artery-clogging fast food. And, believe me, I know that I don't need a 32 oz. soda with my Big Mac. These actions will put me in the hospital again and again for reasons that could have been easily prevented and we'll all see health care prices driven up. Despite all this, I've been too lazy to change.

I'm to blame for the financial meltdown. I exchanged a good work ethic and a prudent budget for get-rich-quick dreams. Time and time again I spent money I didn't have on things I didn't really need (or want, for that matter). I bought a house with a mortgage that was too good to be true and filled it with furniture and electronics bought on credit. I never questioned why the rates were so low; I guess I just thought the banks and credit cards companies knew how good of a guy I was.

I'm to blame for the little BP mishap, too. Not directly, of course, but I drive my car. A lot. I drive it to work. I drive it to the mall. Heck, I even drive it to my kids' bus stop five houses up the block. I just love driving. One thing I don't love though: high gas prices. I flat out hate them. I guess if I walked my kids down the block or biked to places in town I could've cut fuel expenses, but I just didn't think of it. Instead, I unwittingly put pressure on BP and other companies to cut costs and corners so I could keep on driving as much as possible, for as cheap as possible.

You can blame me for all the environmental problems we're facing as well. I like leaving lights and the TV on, even when I'm not in the room. It makes me feel safe. I like long showers and rinsing my dishes before I put them in the dishwasher as well. You can never get those things too clean as far as I'm concerned. I like my house cold in the summer and hot in the winter, too. I guess I just never really thought about where all that energy needed was coming from, or where the waste products went.

I'm also to blame for the religious intolerance that's surfacing these days. I always thought that what "religion" you were meant what kind of "Christian" you were, at least in this country. I never thought that people could have sincere beliefs in religions like Hinduism and Islam. Heck, I don't even really understand my own creed; how could you expect me to understand theirs?

So I'll say it again: you can blame me, America. But before you get too riled up, hear me out. I want to change. I don't want to let my country down anymore. I want to stop being lazy and unhealthy. I want to be fit and active. I want to eat foods that will take care of my body so down the road a doctor won't have to. I want to stop making needless, impetuous purchases, save more and find ways to be content with what I already have. I want to drive less and use less energy, not so much because I'm an environmentalist, but I now see that efficiency is something to value in and of itself. And finally, I want to be more tolerant, reaching out to those who are different than me and instead of polarizing our groups, embracing them as fellow countrymen who bring their own distinct flavor to this one-of-a-kind melting pot.

I implore you, my fellow citizens, to join me in this moment of critical introspection. This country was once great and we can make it great again. We need to stick our thumbs to our sternum, look in the mirror and say, "I'm to blame, America, but not anymore."

Friday, September 17, 2010

Fat AND Stupid? Hmmmm....

Check out this article: http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/09/15/phys-ed-can-exercise-make-kids-smarter/?src=me&ref=general.

Maybe Phys Ed shouldn't be cut out of schools...

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Emotions: Who's in Control?

So tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of my departure to Guatemala. I've been back home for six months now and I must say, emotionally speaking, it's been one hell of a ride. Despite my best efforts to be happy, love-the-hell-out-of-life Tom, it has not been so easy.

I've found myself angrier than I've ever been at times, internally lashing out at those around me (I've managed to keep my mouth shut thankfully). Drivers I deemed dumb, friends, my family, co-workers - literally anybody could have been an alleged "cause" to my frustration. I'd blame New Jersey, it's plethora of stipmalls, suburbs, highways and hair gel. I've even gone on several "Damn I hate this country," rants; those are never rational and always a tell-tale sign that angry Tom is behind the driver's seat.

Other moments I've been carefree, letting myself get lost in whatever I am doing: playing guitar, working, reading, drinking beer with friends, etc. In those times I've been happiest. No thought of tomorrow, no thoughts of yesterday - just genuinely enjoying what life iss giving me at the time.

Those moments have usually been followed by periods of intense anxiety. Doubt inundates my brain, leaving it flailing for any kind of solution amidst the sea of unanswerable questions, questions like: Did I make a mistake going abroad? Did my philosophy major forever seal my fate as an unskilled, bottom-of-the-barrel worker? Will I ever leave my parents' basement? Obviously, these are ridiculous questions. Yet every now and then I find myself in the throes of my anxiety, giving these absurdities way too much weight.

Then there are my favorite moments: my dreamer moments. In these oft delusional moments, I revel in the thought of doing things: biking cross-country, doing stand-up comedy, making my own beer, going back to Germany. I lose myself in thoughts of what could be. They're my favorite moments for two reasons: 1) lots of times they are pretty good ideas to work towards, 2) they are utterly ridiculous (some are maybe just ridiculous).

Now, through all of these moods, I have always tried to be the same me... positive, happy and trying to make the most out of life. Yet, despite my best efforts, I've been tossed around like a beach ball at a rock concert. My moods have dictated what I believed; not vice versa. So, how much control do I really have? Do I have any power at all? I want to believe yes and that all these years of riding this roller coaster will teach me how to ride it properly. In the mean time I'm strapped in, my hands thrown into the air.

Meh... I've already seen it on TV

This weekend, in the middle of my normally boring chunk of New Jersey, the Union County Music Fest was in town shaking things up and definitely keeping the neighbors awake. The normally expansive and green fields of Oak Ridge Park in Clark, NJ - a converted golf course - were filled with booming stages, carnival rides, greasy foods and more teens and middle-aged women dancing together than you'll ever see again.

After catching the last chunk of Keeping Riley (a surprisingly good local band... moreso live than their recordings) and OK Go, my buddy and I wandered over to the Hell on Wheels BMX section. A modest crowd gathered to watch two guys do some sweet jumps... and possibly contort their bodies in unthinkable ways in an unplanned crash landing. From the trailer, a mulleted man did his best to charge up the crowd, promising that we'd be stupefied and electrified, that these young men would defy death and risk serious personal injury to entertain us like we'd never been entertained before.

The bassline from the Propellerhead's Spybreak! (you know, the song playing in the Matrix when Neo shoots up the lobby and does some sweet slow-mo cartwheels) kicks in and picks up our pulses. We all wait, anxious to see a man fly. He pedals. He speeds up. He hits the ramp, jumps through the air, spinning his body and machine a perfect 360 degrees, and lands. He nails it! The crowd is... completely unimpressed? Huh?

No one - including myself - was impressed. This young daredevil just pushed the boundaries of what a human body is capable of right before our very eyes, yet we were unmoved. We halfheartedly clapped in between hiding our yawns. After five or six tricks, the show was over and the small throng of spectators dispersed, presumably to watch Train's set, but hopefully to do something better with their lives.

As I walked away, I could help but think, That should have been really impressive. I mean, that guy was like twenty feet in the air and even jumped over his own father's head. Why wasn't I amazed? Why was the crowd not dazzled and starry-eyed by this spectacle? I realized why almost immediately: we had all seen it already. Even though this was my first time seeing professional BMX trickers in person, my years of watching the X-games as a kid had ruined the punch line for me.

Now what if I had never seen that before on TV? Imagine if there was no TV. What if the highest I'd ever seen someone take a bicycle was my friend Paul doing a three inch bunny hop, an impressive feat for a layperson? I would have shat myself. Sure, I would have heard stories about these crazy people who throw their bodies around on two-wheeled pedal-powered vehicles and I may have even seen a photo or two; but to be fifteen feet from a man who dared to so blatantly defy physical limitations surely would have left me with a hefty load of fear/excitement infused shite in my manties.

I don't want to say technology is bad; it's not. In fact, it is @#$!ing awesome. But, we human beings are not always the wisest, most prudent creatures. I saw about 18 kids walking with their faces buried into their phones; I was tempted to trip every one of them and then blame them for not looking where they were going. My dad says, "Why go to a baseball game when I can watch it here on my flatscreen HD TV?" I know we like having things and having these things NOW - especially when these things are the newest, high-tech goodies that promise to enrich our lives - but maybe we don't deserve such instant gratification. Maybe all this access to information and entertainment, when overused, leaves us numbed and unable to be impressed, even when we're watching a man fly.

I'm back

For any of you out there that are actually clicking this link and saying, "Well, maaaaaaaybe he updated it this time," I am back. After several months of sinking into a mental malaise, I've decided to dive back into the narcissistic and egocentric world of blog writing. I'd love to hear your thoughts or comments, maybe make some of these posts more like discussions. If you want to tell me that I'm spewing too much mindless, self-indulgent word doodoo, that'd be appreciated as well.