A Pleasant Haunting

I hold many hymns inside my head.

A pleasant haunting from a time before.

I have a complicated relationship with "The Church".

There are two types of churches that I attended growing up. One was the mainstream small-town Christian Church. It had youth groups, Sunday school, basketball hoops, and a few hundred people would show up each Sunday. I was in a youth group that was a religious version of the Boy Scouts called Awanas. We memorized Bible verses, had sack-races and I'm sure there was some kind of music involved. It was not an unpleasant experience and I was pretty good at memorizing lines from the Bible. Later I would despise the idea of rote memorization and to this day do not put much effort into memorizing things. The idea of memorizing information that someone else thinks is important is offensive.

Also, I remember finding no joy in the words from the Bible. They were just sentences in a book that adults expected me to know. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son," was just a line from a book and if I could recite it to an adult they would praise me. I don't remember anyone ever asking me if I believed in God. It was assumed, even by myself. Until one day I started to ask questions and found that none of it made any sense.

The second kind of church I attended was called the "Home Church", as it was not affiliated with any known group. Just a bunch of adults getting together to worship God. It was held at the homes' of its adherents and its leader was a permanent bachelor named Jim. The man had never been married or at least that is what I remember of him. He manufactured toilet paper holders with his huge CNC machines and lived alone. I remember visiting his house a few times. He lived in an upstairs apartment attached to his factory. I remember finding it generally unkempt but he had cool stuff like an airplane simulator on his PC and a massive sniper rifle. I suspect that no woman had ever made their way to his apartment long enough to have any input into its design or its inhabitant.

My father lived with Jim for some amount of time after my parents were separated. I always despised my father's lack of ambition and willingness to take from others. It seemed that he was more than happy to take the kindness of strangers until he outstayed his welcome. This is merely an impression I had/have of him but I don't have a lot of great evidence. Maybe it is an exaggerated notion born of my own resentment and ignorance.

"Home Church" was a nightmare. The sermons were dry and dark. I don't remember almost any of the actual content of the sermons but I remember some stuff about not being "worldly" and how to not go to hell. I think there were about 10-15 families at the most and its members changed throughout the years. It also expanded itself to other places a few times a year when we would go on camping trips. Those were a lot of fun and even though I still had to go to Chruch I would get to hang out with my best friend Caleb.

Honestly, Caleb was the best thing to come out of those early days going to Churches. Caleb and I would not stop talking. Even during sermons, we would exchange notes. I remember making fun of everything with him and getting into a little trouble for not paying attention and giggling a few too many times. We were mild scamps, whereas the older boys were the real trouble. They would call them "The Boys", like some kind of gang. "The Boys are going swimming," or "The Boys are going riding", they would say and I always wanted to be in that group. Caleb and I were still too young to go off and do things with "The Boys", so we did our own things. We had imaginations back then and had a lot of fun inventing situations and examining our lives.

As I was writing this I stopped and had a thought:
I should try to seek out good conversations and good conversationalists and not take them for granted. A good conversation is an invigorating thing.

Other than the good times with Caleb, the "Home Church" was generally boring and uneventful, other than the time when someone was expected to give a formal apology, in front of everyone, for separating from their husband and I think she still wasn't allowed to attend certain functions. I could be making that last part up. Or maybe the entire thing. Also, I remember how much pressure the church put on my brother when he got his girlfriend pregnant. They were very young and it was very stupid but the church and my father insisted that the two should get married. My brother, with the strong urging of my mother, decided not to marry her. This turned out to be an amazingly good decision.

Mostly I hate the idea of a "Church" as they represent a kind of propagandized inculcation that reminds me of my childhood and adolescence where I was convinced I was going to hell for most of the things I did and thought. There were so many ways to get there after all. I don't remember the last time I prayed to God but I do remember feeling very stupid for doing it that last time.

I do remember soothing myself by singing "Amazing Grace" while walking around Coos Bay at night because I was so nervous I would get into trouble for the raging High School party occurring at my mom's house, where I lived. My mom was in some high-level position at the same High School that most of the underage partiers went to during the week and she lived there too. She was out of town that weekend and my sister decided to invite a shit ton of underage people to the house to drink.

I might have been 21 at the time and as a resident, I probably would have been in trouble if the cops showed up. My sister was a junior or a senior at the time and had invited just about everyone from the school to come party at her house. I nearly had a panic attack when I realized how many young people were there so I decided to walk around the town in the dark singing to myself the words to "Amazing Grace" until I calmed down enough to go back to the house and deal with it. Nothing much happened, other than a teenage boy broke his leg while skateboarding in the basement. No cops showed up and no parents freaked out. I'm pretty sure my mom found a condom wrapper in one of the rooms. We hadn't cleaned up well enough.

The church represented a place to feel a part of a group that didn't seem to know or care much about me. Other than my friend Caleb I didn't feel connected to almost anyone else at church. It was a place of incoherent judgment and mundane philosophies.

One of my all-time favorite songs is "Hallelujah" by pretty much anyone who sings it. It is a masterful song. I recently started to learn how to play the violin and, more recently, the ukulele. Learning to play music (not that what I do should be considered "music") has completely changed my outlook and appreciation of music. It is simultaneously cognitive and imaginative. It requires a confluence of body and attention, all with the goal of making things better, easier and then automatic.

I am not ashamed or annoyed that I enjoy certain old fashioned religious music. It is one of the only things that I am glad for during my years of involuntary recruitment into "The Church".

Religion is just art turned upside down.

Pretending Entertainment

I used to work for a large video game store. One where you might Stop to buy Games. I mostly sold bullshit. Grown men coming up and saying "I wanna pretend I'm driving a car. Is there a game for that?" Pretending and having imaginary friends was once relegated to children but now, it seems, that children do not grow up. Looking for any excuse to feel accomplishment in virtual worlds to distract from the reality of a failure to accomplish personal goals is the purview of men who've been neglected by their parents and devalued by society. Getting self-esteem from simulated successes creates a fog of delusion that, if cleared away, reveals an inflated ego ready to burst. 

Finding camaraderie in a chat box and slaying imaginary enemies feels good but when the electricity turns off and the mind is still what is left?

I am not immune to such imaginings but I am skeptical of my attachment to the medium. As I have aged I find myself getting less and less fulfillment out of video games. At times in my life I would spend 2-4 hours a day, 7 days a week immersed in sculpting the imaginary life of a digital avatar but lately, I find that this pursuit has much less appeal. While, even now, I spend some time each week playing Dark Souls 3 or some other engrossing game, it is significantly less than in the past.  I'm finding now that if I spend more then a few hours a week playing a game I feel guilty.

I do watch television a lot but there seems to be a disconnect between an interactive medium and the one-sided nature of non-interactive art forms such as film and TV. When you are a passive observer it is harder to get wrapped up in the accomplishments of others. These forms rely on the empathy of the viewer to relate with the emotion on the screen where video games place you in an active role giving you a sense of control and the ability to manipulate outcomes and solve problems.

As much as I feel that video games can be a huge distraction, it is certainly not the worst activity and I shouldn't give myself too hard of a time about something that I get enjoyment out of and a sense of identity to some degree. Being a "gamer" isn't a bad thing but for some reason, I am not committed to the "cause", whatever that means. With such an easy life and so much abundant wealth, it is no wonder that so many are able to have such enticing and satisfying experiences in the safety of their own homes. No longer does one need to venture out into the world for glory and heroics. They can do it from their couch.

I'm not a workaholic!

"Your grandfather died on a toilet at work at 55. He had a heart attack because he was a workaholic."

Someone told me that once or at least that is how I remember it. The idea of the dangers of being a workaholic has always stayed with me and I became sensitive to the idea of "working to death" at an early age. My grandfather was a successful businessman and inventor. Supposedly he helped invent the first color printer or something like that. In attempting to write this out I realize that my knowledge of the man is muddled and I am probably making some of this up based on old memories of conversations with my mother. None the less it is a related memory.

Speaking of my mother, she is a borderline workaholic. I would call he a straight up workaholic but she does take the time to visit and socialize with family and she had a long-term boyfriend. She is also calm, open to conversations about most topics, and enjoys the occasional movie out. I call her a workaholic because the vast majority of the time for the past 30 or so years has been working.

From my earliest memories, she has always put work above anything else. She was barely home and when she was she was busy doing household things and arguing with my father. She was a speech pathologist, then she worked in special education and then went on to administration jobs such as Dean and she is now an administrator for an entire school district. During her time in education, she went back to school and got her Ph.D. and taught college courses as well. She is very accomplished and has won an award in education recently. I am very proud of her as far as this is concerned. She is good at what she does and I think she has made the education system better although I have had only a glimpse into her career and I am biased.

She has been a positive role model for her work ethic, and the ability to support our family, but she has been a negative role model for how to balance work and family, nurturing, affection, and parenting in general. When I was younger I appreciated that she worked so hard and that people seemed to appreciate her work but I also felt the lack of attention and personal bonding that occurred due to her prioritization of work. This has taken its toll on our relationship and I would have rather had her in my life more than at work more.

This is all to say that I am cognizant of the impact that a workaholic can have on those around them and that while there is a lot to be gained in terms of financial freedom when one works more I am not interested in forgoing the pleasures of life either. Taking time to talk with friends will not gain much in the way of long-term financial wealth but as I get older and my friends begin to die I doubt I will wish I had spent less time in their company. The same goes for swimming, playing games, smoking weed and the myriad other activities that only hold fleeting intrinsic value for me.

At the same time, I have a deep guilt that wells up in myself when I neglect to be productive. If I play for too long, waste too much time in pleasure seeking or spend too much time stagnating and not seeking some goal then my self-esteem rots away leaving despair, depression, and anxiety. The few times that I have been unemployed I have felt the worst. I once had a mental breakdown right out of high school when I spent about three months out of work in a new town and with no friends. Obviously, this was a recipe for disaster but had I kept myself busy with a job or hobbies I might not have been so existentially confused.

In attempting to have balance in my life I try to be aware of the two competing forces in my mind. One voice telling me to "slow down, don't worry, have fun, you're just going to die in the end anyway," and another voice saying, "hurry up, you're just getting older, man up, you don't want to die with nothing." This dichotomy winds back and forth in my mind like two rocking horses battling to the death at high speeds. All the while constantly recalibrating for new goals, new ideas of pleasure and new ways of attacking the problem of existential angst that is never satisfied and never quite certain. 

On Getting Older and Living Up To Values

Something no one told me about when I was growing up was that as you get older you start to identify and develop your values. Then, as you are doing this, you also start to look at yourself and if you are critical you realize that developing your values is complicated and that living up to your own values is very difficult. So difficult that you find that you are forever in a loop of evaluating your actions, determining how shitty you are compared to the way you want to be. Then you either try to adjust your value system to justify your actions or you demean yourself for being too weak to live up to your own values.

Then you realize that your self-esteem is directly related to your ability to live up to your own values which means that it is now your responsibility to develop your own self-esteem. Now that you can't blame others (your parents) for how you feel about yourself you have to look at your own actions and begin to do the things that will make you feel that you are living up to your own values. This requires taking a hard look at the morals and virtues that you determine to have value and will make you the kind of "hero of your own story," as Joe Rogan might put it.

So, you look at your health, because you want to be the kind of person that looks like they care about themselves and maybe even the kind of person that is attractive to others. You start to exercise and eat better food and you find that in a few months you are actually doing a thing that makes you less depressed, less resentful and you stop thinking so much about the past and start looking at the future as something that might matter and that you might matter but then you look at your job. Your job is shit and working for those corporate robots makes you feel like you are wasting your life and contributing nothing to the world.

You decide to write more, make Youtube videos, and learn new skills. You take up hobbies and spend time maintaining friendships with people because you want to be the kind of person that has deep relationships with people you respect. Then you decide to have hard conversations with your parents which only goes to prove that they don't know more than you and will never provide the kind of leadership and guidance that you needed and still need so you come to realize that only you are in charge of yourself and that's it and that you are kind of alone. This puts all the responsibility on yourself to make your life the best it can be but since that is subjective and complicated you just continue to work and do things that increase your self-esteem by convincing yourself that you are capable of accomplishing difficult and somewhat meaningful things because you want to be the kind of person who others look at and see what you have done difficult and meaningful things.

All the while a nagging doubt, pessimism, and hauntingly nihilistic voice speaks up saying "you're just going to die in the end, it doesn't matter and you are worthless". Then you do as many pushups you can do or you smoke a cigarette or you get a little drunk but in the back of your negative mind you still want to live up to your values and you know that if you feel like shit it is your fault. There are things you can do to not feel like a shitty person so if you feel like shit it is because you want to feel like shit and you would only want to feel like shit if you think that is what you are but you don't think that. Someone else does. Someone in your life made you feel that deep down you are a worthless piece of shit and although it haunts you you know that it's not true.

Because you want to be the kind of person who doesn't believe the negativity implied by a childhood of neglect and abuse. You want to be the kind of person who overcomes negativity and does something worthwhile in the world even if you only accomplish convincing yourself that you are worthwhile. So you keep learning new skills, doing things that are difficult like taking responsibility, working and creating value in the world. You try to live up to the virtues you hold paramount. You try to live how you would want everyone else to live. You want to have integrity, bravery, and strength. You want to be unrelentingly honest with yourself and practically honest with others. You want to be wise and patient. You want to be humble but confident. You want to be the kind of person that others look to for guidance and leadership. You want to be better than your parents. Better than others. Better than yourself.

Sometimes you get confused and forget who you want to be and you are just yourself. At those times you just act and others get to see the true you and you get to forget yourself and who you want to be. You stop criticizing and stop thinking and stop pretending. You stop faking it and just make it. You just are. And then you realize you just told someone to stop being a pussy ass little bitch and you go back to realizing that you don't know shit and your kind-of a terrible person.

I think as I get older the time it takes to get over mistakes grows shorter and the total number and severity of the mistakes tend to go down with a few monumental exceptions.

I hope that I pick the right values and I hope I am strong enough to live up to them.

A New Lifestyle: How I lost 45 lbs and kept it off.

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I changed how I think about myself. I lost 45 lbs in about a year. I try not to eat for relief from boredom. I eat when I'm hungry and I know better what that feels like. I try to never eat fast food. I make salads most nights and pair it with fish, chicken, potato salad or something decent. I almost never eat candy and I never drink soda except maybe a mountain dew or sprite on a very rare occasion.  I barely ever drink beer or liquor. This article is about how I lost the weight but more importantly, it explains why. 

Motivation:

Prior to my weight loss, I lived in a state of perpetual hedonism. I ate what I wanted, I drank what I wanted and I spent my time doing what felt good because in my mind I was going to die anyway, so why not. I felt like life was short and I had a pessimistic look at my own abilities and future. My confidence and self-esteem were shrouded in confusion, regret, avoidance, and denial. I felt pointless but as long as I engaged in freedom of consumption I could get by and what's wrong with that? 

A couple of years ago I started listening to some very powerful people, two of which I would like to credit for shaping my thinking in a positive way. Joe Rogan and Stefan Molyneux. Both of these men speak about taking responsibility for your actions, taking control of your life, making a difference in the world, morality, relationships, and both men have a passion for what they are doing. They provided a wonderful model for what being a man could be like and I have been woefully void of great male role models in my life. These men helped me gain a sense of power and challenged my thinking in a fundamental way. And I am still learning from these men and men like them today. 

Stefan Molyneux, in particular, helped me challenge the value of my relationships and the truth of my past. I feel like I woke up one day and realized that I didn't know myself or my history very well and this ignorance had led me to a life I didn't want or deserve. After examining my family and childhood I saw the life I led and began to stop accepting my fate. I started holding my parents responsible for the decisions they made and the neglect and abuse they allowed in my life. I started to see that I wasn't the one who deserved to suffer but I deserved to flourish in all that life can offer. I was worth the effort my parents neglected to make so now I had to make the effort for myself. Once I started to hold them responsible for their actions I started to accept responsibility for my own actions. What is true for them is true for me. So I took responsibility. 

The Plan:

About a year or two into taking personal responsibility I decided to make a change in my habits. I decided that I would try to read more and work toward being healthier. I was planning on a trip to New York with my long-term girlfriend and my plan was to enjoy the trip and when I get back it would be the start of making real change. I didn't have any specific goals but I knew that I wanted to start a new lifestyle. 

I started looking into dieting and exercise. I decided that I would stop eating fast food and replaced it with nightly salads and low-calorie microwave lunches. I stopped eating candy and chocolates, bread and sugary drinks.

Also, I decided to do exercises that were easy to do every day and in my small apartment. I didn't try to go full bore into a specific program but instead started very slowly with body weight exercises. I made sure to do push-ups, sit-ups/crunches, and pull-ups every day. Making sure to push myself without getting frustrated. 

Also, I decided to make a monetary commitment by buying a nice hybrid bicycle. This investment in my health prompted me to continue my efforts. If I spent money on it I would feel worse by having it go to waste. Later, I decided to try kettlebells after hearing the versatility and effectiveness they might offer. I got a 15 lb kettlebell and followed a workout video a few times a week.

I grew into these activities slowly and saw results very quickly. I started to see noticeable results within a few months and I felt better mentally. My self-esteem and confidence grew as my body started to shrink. I thought I would be good if I got to about 150 lbs which is what I weighed in high school but when I got to 140 after about 9 months I realized that I was a different person than when I started out. I enjoyed eating well and exercising. I became stronger and more attractive. I had done something difficult and knew that I had made a permanent change in my psychology. Many people talk about making a change or getting in shape and I actually did it. 

2 Years Later:

It has been almost 2 years since this transformation of lifestyle and I am more passionate about it than ever. I maintain a healthy diet and exercise almost every day. I am continuously looking for better dieting behaviors and exercise options that work for me and my goals. I am learning about the slow carb. diet outlined by Tim Ferris in his book "The Four Hour Body." I have maintained my current weight of about 140 lbs. and just want to lean up a bit. I am still the same person I was before but I am more mindful and optimistic. I am not a gym rat and I don't exercise to the point of exhaustion but I work on it every day and take responsibility for my actions.