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The World In The Life Of A Guy – Part 12 – Putting Two Together

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Before I start, I wanted to say that this series has been a great way to reflect on the various ways men and women are different, as well as how those differences really impact how we go through the world.  After this post, I want to take a bit of time away from this series as a means to collect myself and to try new regularized topics to write about, I will come back intermittently to post about these topics, but after a year I am ready to try something new. Thank you for following along with this, I have enjoyed it.

As I started, so shall I end.  With sex and relationships.

I’ve spent a long time asking women my age about their relationship experiences, what it is like to be with a guy, and for what they tell me, I’m surprised a lot of them keep wanting to be in one. Stories I’ve heard, go into great detail about the enormous breaches of personal trust and faith in the partners they were with.  Stories of being forced or compelled to do things they didn’t want to do, harassed or abused, or even worse.  The stories were not all doom and gloom, but the sheer regularity of these negative experiences among people I have talked to is disheartening.  With each stories told to me the list of things that haunted me.  Haunt me, telling me of what I could be, but compelling me to go out to heal and not to hurt.  I don’t shy away from these stories, and I am supremely grateful for those who have shared their experiences with me, it keeps me aware of how bad it could be. In the end what bothers me how people can people can think so little of others, or feel entitled to something that should be shared. The bar for relationships a lot of women is a lot lower than it should be.  Women aren’t perfect, women are just people, and should at least be treated with the decency of an ordinary person, and sometimes they fight to get that much.

It makes me fear my own missteps, vivid things I may have done better. Progress is all about learning from my mistakes, to be better but with people and keep moving forward. Through it all, I’ve got scars on my heart from it, scars that seem to be growing and I don’t know what to do.

I think I’m afraid of sex, that powerful act that like a void, never seems to be satiated completely.  I think I always have been.  I can give you every excuse in the book for this fear, my religious upbringing, my less than stellar early life experiences with girls, or just the world of cold videos of porn on the internet but each of these would just seem to be a contributor or symptom of a much bigger issue.

Expression.

My experiences have taught me to that care is to give, and what else is there to give but myself.  I gave up pieces of myself to appease people early on.  Destroyed bits of my heart and soul to be okay with it.  I remember in high school, among the many strange things that happened to me was a girl. I had liked her at some point, and she had liked me, but the only thing was that our timing or wanting to be with each other ended up being off.  In liking me, she wanted express that in some way, so she ended up sending naked pictures of herself to me.  This is where curiosity kills, this might sound weird, but the curious part of me wanted to know more, but my heart and soul weren’t in it resisting me, telling me to stop this, that doing this was hurting me and wasn’t right.  She knew that I didn’t want a relationship because I told her that I wasn’t interested but she kept on with it (though I should have been more active to stop it). I didn’t though, not directly because I had always been told this was a good thing and that I should savor it and enjoy it even though it killed me inside. At the end of it all, in some strange way, it felt like someone was at least expressing that they wanted me to be that person in my life which felt good and started me down this road.

The experience sticks with me because it was the first of a lot of experiences that felt just not right for me. I may go into detail another time but for now, the point is I’ve had my fair share of good bad experiences, and it’s what I learned though that matters. In some way, I think most guys see similarly to me, that sex and sexual things are a form of intimacy and expression.  It is about power, desire, and in the best of times love.  The little voice in our head whispering that the only way to feel the connection is through that expression of two bodies of self. That the negation of advances recounts itself as a rejection of this expression and a rejection of expression means a rejection of self.
This type of thinking is ridiculous, but when feeling and desire is only expressed through such limited avenues, how else is that to come off.

This is why I am so afraid of sex because to me, its a giving of myself, leaving myself open and yet it can so quickly be given and taken from you. It can become from meaningful to meaningless swiftly and easily. Why would I want to do that to myself, to satiate if not only temporarily the urges that my body afflicts upon me? Used as a mechanism to fill the void of lonely disregard of heart, a cry for help and a stopgap for meaning.  Each time disregarded, carves away at our heart so that less and less of it comes back to us.  I want something more because I know more is out there.  I want to be open to the love of a different kind and nature. Expression of which can comes in different types and forms still foreign and mysterious to me. I don’t want it to be only about sex, there should always be more to it.

We keep coming back to relationships though, after each of our experiences to try again.  I don’t know why, I don’t understand it and I know I won’t go for a while but we keep trying out there, hoping and working for change.  The world of girls and guys is different in a lot of ways but this one is the same, we want a better future and we are, if not slowly, moving towards it together. I hope it will be one we can be proud of.

Save The Crop: Feed The Earth

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I can see a field of flowers in my mind.  Strung across a vast expanse, blooming fields flowers lead the way on an accompanying path that only speaks of life.  The path extends outwards toward the horizon, but as I leave the path, the flowers seem to struggle to press on.  Less and less they grow, and the healthy bloom gives way to fallow land.  This dirt is just as robust as the others, but its empty. Why is this field empty, flowers are able to grow. This field was empty because no one took the time to sow.

I’ve never been especially stellar at relationships.  It’s certainly not from a lack of feeling. My problem lies within the action. Like a burning flame, the father I get from them, the harder it is to remember the warmth. The fire is always there, burning red hot, flickering in the darkness, it’s just about stoking the fire even though I might not close to it. I feel at times like I become a ghost, a piece of fiction until I am seen.  I grew up this way because the relationships around me felt largely part-time.  As if my existence required me not to get too close, because too close can cause pain, and energy and I needed all the energy I had to keep me from the pain. I know it sounds dramatic but when you’re not involved with anything you had now way of being let down.  It’s not a great way of thinking, a personal flaw I never intended to have but one I have to contend with regularly.  What troubles me though is this growing bud, resting within my heart that calls out to tend the garden of good relationships I have the great fortune to have.  Allow them to take root and grow. Grow so that it can bear fruit and transist itself into something much more than the sum of its parts.  There are so many people around me who bring light into my life, and it’s shameful that I do not put more effort into cultivating these beautiful relationships. So now comes the time to do away with the ghost and shed light on the myth, to come out from hiding and be accountable for my inaction.

I am growing up slowly and I look around to realize that there are some things I have always wanted, somethings money cannot simply buy or find. I will chase these things, and do better than the me of yesterday as it always comes down to where we invest our time because most of the work in relationships is just showing up. There is a saying “The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago, and the next best time is today.” So here’s my pledge, to sow the seeds of the future, let the fields of flowers bloom, tend the gardens of relationships, so that the path might not simply be gilded but shine brightly with the sight of a full life.

The World In The Life Of A Guy: Part 11 – Talk And Listen and Lessons On Intention

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It’s easy to imagine the difference between how men and women talk to one another.  It’s thought that men speak directly, get straight to the point and don’t mince words with one another. Whereas women, speak more, and in a less straight to the point manner, but in a way that will explain the whole circumstance and scenario.  The strange thing is the thing I learned from one of my psychology professors in my undergrad, that men and women speak the same amount as one another.
How is that possible though, if men are so “direct” than how is it that we talk about the same amount as women.  I am probably not a good example of this because I talk too much but where there do these extra words go and what exactly do we talk about? In my experience, a lot of the same things, the same worries about the future, and personal interests.
There is, however, a disconnect between these words and who we talk to.  Men talk to women more than they will talk to other men and are more willing to reveal personal information to women.  The strange thing is that this paradigm doesn’t work both ways, women talk to other women about personal things.  I think this has bothered my a lot of my life, being left out of these conversations by my mom, sisters, and female friends.  With my love of people, I am always fascinated by the comings, going and stories of others, but I am at times restricted because of the nature of these paradigms. I think it’s also that we let men off the hook when it comes to emotions, never giving the chance to find that emotional outlet through works or expression, leading conversations of that sort to be taboo or considered a nuisance which also points to the difference in the way we speak to each other.
Why is that, why is there such a divide? I think for guys, we are looking for the point, the reason for the story. We tell stories to make a point about something and are taught to do it this way as a mechanism to save everyone’s time and effort. Where for women, the point is the story itself, the way it twists and turns, there may not be a problem to resolve but this something conveyed by the story that would lose it impacts if it was not told. This becomes a problem when these two types of speaking mix. When women talk to men, men lose themselves in the story because they are looking for the singular purpose, and women start to feel like they aren’t being listened to because men will give up after a time of not finding what they want.  Men talking to women, women feel as though they are not conveying the feelings or the full extent of the story, just the highlighted details which are not enough to get the full picture, and men get frustrated after the story is told and women ask for more.  All and all, it can be frustrating to talk when it appears that the other person isn’t on the same page as you.
There is a benefit to both of these types of speech and are useful in their own ways, but it’s essential for us to bridge the gap, learn each other’s language and be patient with how the other person speaks.  We learn and find ways to communicate in this world and though we are different, we can celebrate our differences, especially because it allows us to get a different perspective on the world.  Coming together and communcating is what gives us a leg up in this crazy world of ours, so lets talk.

The Weight of Nothing

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My body feels rugged
Beaten and bruised
Heavy and slow
I though have not fought it
Quite the opposite,
I fed the fires that burned within
Unquenchable and everlasting

As my appetite reaches the level of unsatiable
My hunger growl at me for more
It emptied me out
Makes me feel spent
Even from the moment of arising
I feel my body is resisting me, resisting life

I don’t know
What will cure me
But I am looking
And here’s hoping

I find it soon.

A Challenge To The New Year

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I usually know the end of the month I usually devote talking what it’s like being a guy but I don’t want the miss the opportunity to talk about how the end of the year and the start of a new one gives up a time to reflect upon ourselves and change our lives, which the blog has spent so much time devoted to. So next month there will be a double post of the World In The Life Of A Guy bringing that series to its end of regular serialization after a year to pursue other topics. This has been a great year, full of ups and downs and but for now, I want to look forward, forward to the new year.

Why is the new year so synonymous with change? Not to be pedantic, but what do we feel happens between 11:59PM New Years Eve and 12:00AM New Years Day?  Is there some sort of magical moment where we metamorphize from our past selves to this new self that is much more capable than the one before.  From my experience, life rarely works that way.  What I do know is that we do not gain some sort of extra motivation or discipline from holidays.  Though I don’t doubt that the new year is a great moment to try new things especially with all the great deals that usually come along with the holiday season, planning for change, at least for me, doesn’t work.  It’s like buying an ice cream cone and waiting until you get home to eat it, chances are when you get there, the ice cream will have already melted. I know that taking advantage of the motivation as it comes as it is kindling to start something new and if I wait too long I won’t have the same strength to carry it through.

This doesn’t answer what I want from the new year.  Last year and the year before I had planted the seeds for a future I wanted, and this year is the year I take care of and prune those plants so they will grow.  This is not to say that new and unusual things aren’t on the docket, but I feel in learning to nurture progress, my investments will come to bear fruit.
There are things that I am dissatisfied with.  I have come a long way to fix and foster my relationships, but in some ways, I have fallen short.  I feel like I need to put myself out there and find a way to make sure the people who love me know I love them back.  I am dissatisfied with my eating and spending habits, though I put effort I am not where I want to be, and I want to change that. I am dissatisfied with my work ethic, though it has come a long way, I still find myself under the control of the whims of the day, throwing off what I intend to get done and the timing of how I want it to be done by.
These aside, there will always be dissatisfactions in my life, to strive is to live, and to live is to work.  This new year, I will take as a blessing and push myself to learn as much as I can, keeping an open mind and open heart to the way the world works and always working towards what I think is the right path and what is good. I am lucky, I have people around me who pursue their dreams, and who push back upon the void and create something beautiful from nothing.  I am fortunate to be frustrated and want more for myself. I am happy that when I look around, I feel like there is always more I can do, and that what I want do it if I only put my mind and spirit into to it.

2018 is a year to grow and change, feed and prune, to pursue and accomplish.  Goodbye 2017, you were good to me.  Hello 2018, I am coming for you.

Though I don’t say this every time, if anyone ever needs help or wants to talk I am here to listen, you are not alone there in the dark.

Year Two’s End

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Its been two years from when I started this blog, and here I find myself in a very different place than where I started. I feel as almost my life completely changes in this increment of two years.
Two years ago, I was staring down a path left unilluminated by the confusion and turmoil of transitioning from college. Left bare and in need of change, what came about was was a need, a need to change. So this blog, devoted to cataloging and compelling progress within my life, became the bastion of that change. It has been a soundboard for my frustrations and the safe haven of for my thoughts as I move along the path toward a future that was all too uncertain.
As things changed, so have I, learning and growing from all the new memories I have made along the way.  Two years, though it feels like a world away to me, I know that I am still only at the beginning.  There is a long way to go, much more to do, and many more lessons to learn but I am ready and willing to step out on the path, one foot in front of the other, and find my way home.

So what has happened in these two years?
Love and loss. A lot failure and measured success. A realization that the life I had been living was not as full as it should be.  The understanding the problems I had left unresolved needed facing before I could move forward. These two years have felt like a lifetime, and I’m sure the next two years will feel the same.

What has changed though, between this year and the one before?
I’m back at school which has been a godsend, I am around people who are like-mindedly moving forward to a future.  I’m excited to learn, and I feel like the place I am at is where I am meant to be.  There are still I have yet to fully resolve and am still learning every day, but I feel like I am more receptive to this change now,

I feel alive, more so than I had been.  It’s like waking up from a slumber, realizing you have the whole day ahead of you and all the energy in the world. I had a friend who had been struggling for a long time come out of the haze of that struggle and start to see the world in as vivid and beautiful.  Like the veil being removed from your eyes, to see the world again.  I know this is a bit wax-poetic, but it gets to the point. I am happy, struggling out there in the world, making mistakes at every turn but happy to be alive which is the best thing I could ask for.  Things have changed and will continue to evolve on this journey of mine, all the feelings I have put to the page have been an adventure. If you would, indulge me in another year of words because my journey is not yet done.

Thank you for reading.

-End of Year Two-

WORDS, MY ETERNAL STRUGGLE WITH LANGUAGE:​ Revisited 2

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People don’t believe me when I say I’m not good at English.  It was never the class I enjoyed going to, and I always felt like I never understood what the rules were for the great communication game.  See for me, words pour out of my mouth like a container full of liquid, with limited grace and an inability to separate one drop from the next. I speak in circles and talk continuously when I really should be listening but I can’t help it at times, its how I deal with at times persistent anxious feeling that arises from the sound of silence.
It wasn’t always like this, there was a time when I was younger when I didn’t speak, didn’t let my voice be heard or call out others. In my quiet, I felt that there was no reason to speak, people spoke for me, and that was good enough. That period of time continued until I was called to talk, to let my voice be heard, but all that came out were things I had learned because that’s all I felt people wanted.
So I talked and talked and all I would say were what I thought people wanted to get their way.  I didn’t feel like words were my own, they were just a ship to carry me closer to home. They were a way to keep me out of trouble or to deflect shame, if I kept speaking I wouldn’t feel the pain. All words were was a means to an end, but each time spoke the fewer ears people would lend.  I would answer questions, give my opinion, try to talk as much as I could but ultimate it didn’t fix anything under the hood. So they stopped calling on me, the teachers that be, because they felt it would be free, to stop speaking to me. So the silence grew deep, and my words became meek, I felt as though my voice itself was weak.
I couldn’t get out of this trouble, I wonder, it this trouble is the trouble to cause my heart to fall asunder. So I spoke and spoke, just as I speak and speak, to hopefully feel like my heart was not weak. I needed help with my words because regardless of what was said, there was never a feeling of feelings of being whole in my head.
So my words began pouring like a pitcher of water, learning how to speak so they would not be fodder.  So I learned the words that people would feel and repeated and repeated them just like a wheel. Every time I repeated, the words would change, until the words became words that would break from this cage.
The problem with the words that would say I said is that feels like a contract,  a contract with the dead.  I could speak and speak, and people would at times listen, but if there were not speaking, I wouldn’t feel the glisten. My heart would ache and ache in pain because without the glissen,  no frisson which means my vision would fission and leave a division. My mind was split, and these words would travel back until it felt like the words in my head were like an attack.
So I work on my words, day in and day out, to stop this addictive vindictive word spout.  I want to try and embrace the silence, let words be heard instead of defiance.  So I might speak now, and people might listen but to be honest, I would find something missing.  So here is where I digress, from the words, rhythm, and rhyme, because to be honest, I need to talk about real this time.

I realized at some point through all this writing, how beautiful words can be. When I craft a sentence, it feels like watching a tree.  It grows and changes as time passes. The winds move it and the season changes it, but they are there to remind me that giving it a little effort gives it all it needs to grow.  So I leave with this, another lesson another year’s folly, I want to become and change some more, because I have some more words to pour.  Thank you for listening to another year’s adventure, and here are some links of my past posts about words.

Year One : Year Two

The Other Path.

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I have trouble, looking at the paths laid out before me, knowing what will quench me quickly may not be the path to take me to where I want to go.  It makes me wonder if I should just let go and give into the feelings and emotions of the hour. To make decisions based upon the here and now.  Decisions based on being drawn back into the past or to be pulled into a familiar future. Both of which lead me to nowhere but difficulties and strife.  I want to rise above and take this third road, a higher road, and yet it feels as though I can’t find it.  I know only so much as to perceive though challenges, but when will this potential suffering really end itself. Is it a matter of staying true to the path or walking as long as I can until I find someplace to seek refuge.  Life is long, and the amounts of things we experience are varied, so for most experiences, it’s only a matter of time until it happens, but should we deny the ill-advised opportunities in the hope that the universe will deliver some sort of saving grace upon our doorstep.

I’ve been told to take control of the opportunities afforded to us, but also to be wise about the one’s opportunities we take. Grab life by the horns but make sure not to get gored by the bull.  It’s these nuances that get to me,  they are the difficulty in my path because trying to sort what is and isn’t right is and time energy consuming. I think that’s the part that bothers me the most, is all the energy to keep my mind and body at bay.

Maybe I should just take these additional choices out of the equation, to make it so only the possibilities that arise that reach a specific high criterium will get past the gate. That way I can concentrate on the opportunities that will push me forward in the areas I want to go.

That doesn’t leave room for growth though, it stalls my nature and keeps the equilibrium.  I don’t want that either.  I don’t know exactly what to do other than forging a new path all on its own. A path that doesn’t adhere to the standard constructs that I am used to. To find my own way of doing things that subscribe to my personal code of ethics. I am not sure where the other path takes me or even if its right, but is its an idea of what to do as I wait for the road I was meant to take.  Maybe I should take this moment to grow in a way that I have never thought of before. Let’s find the other path and watch where it leads because the two I have taken are known to not take me where I want to go.

Memory Flash

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It feels like it flows from my fingertips
The expression of memory and intimacy
Flashes of feeling and memory
A vividness that captures my attention
They are escaping me
Like as memory
Each time remembered becomes softer
More Distorted

If feels like the flash is the memories life
The feeling trying to resurface and live
Gasping for air, one last stand before being left behind
It’s too late now
I can’t go back to relive the memories
Can’t go back to make any more
So sit motionless waiting for them to pass
Hoping to capture those last moments

There they go.
Bittersweet.
Sorrowful.
Happy.

A Simple Plane Ride of Self Discovery

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I met a man on a plane recently.
A man on the way to his hometown of Nashville.  We sat next to each other, and even though I needed to get work done and put in earplugs, he wanted to start up a conversation. He was in his late twenties, with long hair pulled into a bun, and a scraggly beard to match.

He was nervous, about going home. Worried because he would be returning home after three and a half years being away from it.  He lived in Sydney at the moment, but he began recounting his tales of world travel.  This is what got me intrigued.  He had decided after completing his bachelors and was starting his masters that he wanted a different life for himself, and his girlfriend agreed, so they took off to teach English on the other side of the world.  Moving around from place to place, using the teaching gig as a mechanism to explore parts unknown.  To be honest, it sounded fun.  They lived a simple life, were able to afford what they wanted, but lived within their means, and they picked up skills along the way.  Thirty countries he mentioned, thirty countries he had traveled through hitting countless cities and villages along the way.  He had been able to experience all sorts of different cultures, and he told me how he had learned from each one of them.
I sat there sharing my own experiences but mostly listening to what he had to say.  We talked about the fact I am doing my masters and why he felt that his original dream to get his Ph.D. fell by the wayside for this new dream. It was an exciting talk, and once the flight was over, we went our separate ways.

The talk stuck with me, I thought about it the long ride to the place I would be staying for the wedding the next day.  I think the reason be, is that his life was my back up plan for if the whole academia thing didn’t work out.  What my life could be like if I had thought academia wasn’t for me or if academia thought I wasn’t for them.  I was the idea that I would go about the world, learning and growing from all the lessons it had to offer. Meeting new people and having new experiences and deciding where to be one month at a time. His life had a sort of appeal to it, an excitement, an adventurous spirit that I feel within myself too.  For a moment, I really wondered if I could still grasp it.

After our talk and the plane began to unload we went our separate ways, It was then I realized I never even knew his name, we hadn’t exchanged on the plane. Maybe that’s okay, be what he represents now is a different life, a different path for me.  This is not to say that this path might not converge with the path I am on but I found the path I will be following.  I still want to travel more and see the world, and my choice to go into academia isn’t going to change that. It was nice to see that either path I could have taken, I might have been happy, which is good enough for me.

So to the perfect stranger, I met on the plane, I hope you live a full and rewarding life, maybe I’ll see you again one day and find out how it turned out.