“The pursuit of Ness” (We already know what happy is)

So much has been written on the human condition and our drive to find both contentment in our lives and ultimately the want to be happy.  So why not add one paper to the stack? The English language is an interesting thing and subtle words, changes and punctuation have major impacts.  I pondered this the other day as I contemplated being happy.  I thought about what that is, how to be it and how I would describe it if there were ever a need.  Personally I have had times in life where happy abounds and where happy is in shorter supply than water on Mars. I have seen so many people in my life struggle with finding it to the point of total despair.   I then thought of how self-help gurus describe happy. 

To me it came down to two things:  Either how to find happiness or the pursuit of happiness.  That is where I felt my understanding of happy has fallen a bit short.

Finding Happy

Finding happiness seems to infer that happy is a thing, set in a certain place, and if we find that place Happy will be there waiting for us with open arms and we can live in that place forever.  If we become unhappy it’s because we have left the place where happy lives.  We took a bus out of happy town.  All we need to do is get back on the bus and get off at happy station to be greeted by rainbows farting skittles and cheap cable TV.  This is totally unbelievable.  Not the skittle farting rainbows part, the cheap cable TV part.  Not in a million years.  Let’s look at what happy defined is:

happyCloseStyle: MLA APA Chicago

Top of Form

Bottom of Formadjective hap·py \ˈha-pē\

: feeling pleasure and enjoyment because of your life, situation, etc.

: showing or causing feelings of pleasure and enjoyment

: pleased or glad about a particular situation, event, etc.

So we know that we can define happy.  But that doesn’t mean happy, once defined, is found as easily as it is in the dictionary.  For anyone under 28 a dictionary is a large book, written on paper (paper is like a tree cut into super thin slices) and the book contains words and definitions in alphabetical order. It’s contained in a l-i-b-r-a-r-y but Google can explain what that is later and don’t even start Googling the Dewey Decimal system.  I digress. We can tell you what happy is but finding it is never as easy as just put “Happy” in to your navigation system and you will arrive at your destination in 2 hours.  Just follow the blue line.  Even if we could arrive in Happyburg, why is it so hard to stay there?  Shouldn’t it be the best place ever?  So why leave?  Why can’t we achieve ness?  As in Happiness. Let’s look at what ness is:

Ness

Suffix[edit] -ness. Appended to adjectives to form nouns meaning "the state of being(the adjective)", "the quality of being(the adjective)", or "the measure of being(the adjective)".

We all don’t just want to experience happy.  We want happiness- The state of being happy-The quality of being happy-The measure of being happy.  Something we all want so desperately is something we, as a society, are finding harder and harder to arrive at.  Like the bus pulled that particular stop off the route.  The blue line no longer runs there. But that all assumes happy is a static place and we just need to get to it. 

The Pursuit Of Happy

In my mind, happy is not a static place.  It doesn’t have a defined location that can be returned to over and over.  Happy is dynamic.  It gets a new address yearly, daily and sometimes even moment by moment.  That is why it is so easy to get lost trying to find it or have it for just a brief second before it is gone.  We know where we left it, but when we return there, it’s nowhere to be found.  Is there something  that is wrong with us? Happy should be there but it isn’t. 

Why is it we all hold on to our youth?  It was a simpler time.  Things were better.  No bills no responsibility.  We were happy then.  So that’s where happy should be.  Yet when we try recapture our youth and run from responsibilities and the reality of aging something different happens.  We only find the problems have gotten worse and we are even further from happy.  This issue is really ingrained in us because happy used to be a thing others found and brought to us.  We were happy in the womb.  But the womb was provided by mom.  We are born and when we are unhappy we scream and cry.  So our parents went and found what made us happy and brought it to us.   Change me, feed me, burp me, dance for me monkey!  Make the face!  Now swing me!  In our younger years happy was provided by getting shelter, food, love and fun served up.  Now it’s “Here’s your iPad kid.  Be happy”.  But at some point happy can’t be provided.  We want to walk and talk.  Be out on our own and experience life.  We don’t realize it at the time but we are out there trying to pursue happy.  It comes easy because the same way happy is dynamic and changing, in our youth we are too.  That allows us to spend a lot of time with happy.  Doing that puts us in a state of happiness. 

Then there is a change.  As we age and “settle down” we think that will make us stay with happy.  Get married, have kids, get a job and you will be where happy is.  How is that working out for us?  We are where everyone says happy should be.  So where is it?  We stopped the pursuit. For our entire lives we thought it was a destination so now we can’t understand why it isn’t where we wound up.  Or maybe we were lied to.  There is no happy.  Life is a series of disappointments and we use happy like we do El Dorado.  Happy is just a made up city of gold that’s supposed to be worth all the trials and tribulations for the person who finds it.  But they never do find it.  Maybe in the end happy, like El Dorado, is fool’s gold.  It’s a worthless waste of time and effort for something that never did exist.  So if happy isn’t real what can take the sting of that away?  Melt into yourself?  Lost in your thoughts and lose hope?  Use a substance to let you forget what you were looking for in the first place?  Work out obsessively to make sure you aren’t alone with your thoughts or too tired to think them? Act like you have the largest mansion in Happyland and never let people see what’s really inside?

Happy isn’t where you left it.  To be happy and have ness I believe we need to realize it is a dynamic place.  Happy may have one definition on paper but it has endless meanings.  It isn’t a town we want to live in but a pursuit we want to join in.  Our relationships (friends, lovers, family) part ways because one or both of us stop being on the same path of pursuit.  Maybe the meaning of happy isn’t the same for us today as it was yesterday and the other person doesn’t want to pursue it with us.  Perhaps to them happy now means something else and they are going their own way.  Often it’s because one person decided happy needs to come to them.  Like when they were a kid.  They feel the other person in the relationship needs to provide happy.  So why is that person never happy?  Or abiding in happiness?  Because what we think will make us happy doesn’t actually do that when we rely on others to provide it.  It can’t be provided any more.  Just like when we learned to walk and talk.  Walking and talking was a way for us to be able to go and get what we wanted.  Not just be given. 

The human spirit thrives on pursuit.  It loves to grow and expand and explore.  It was never meant to be static.  It was meant to be dynamic.  You can’t create an unchanging world where everything is provided instead of discovered and expect happy to be there.  Pursue happy.  That is where you find ness.  It’s the state of being in which you are feeling pleasure and enjoyment because of your life.

Mantastic

Recently I had the opportunity to take part in a gathering of men whose sole purpose was to put their physical skill and ability to drink beer to a grueling one day challenge of testicular size and scope.

The Man Games.

Feats of strength, speed, agility and chugging. During the competition you will down around 17-24 beers. This is low to mid quality beer. Being sure to avoid the Keystone cooler at all costs. That does not count the sipping beers to pass the time until your team of two is called in to action. Expect your daily total to be 22-30 beers. This contest was not meant for the faint of heart or World of Warcraft players. It was meant for men. Instead of going into each event, I would like to instead, recap what it takes to have a successful man game experience:

1. No women and no cell phone coverage. This is self explanatory. But I will explanatory it anyways. In order to have your mind and body focused on the task at hand, you cannot be tethered to the grasp of the opposite sex. They cloud the mind and scatter your thoughts. They are your favorite food in the fridge. Out of sight, but within reach, you will be drawn to them. Then you will find the food does not agree with you and wind up leaving early screaming at your food for making you come home.

2. Invite a few people who you are willing to either frame or kill and dispose of their bodies if things go south. Kind of like the opposite of a Bruno Mars song. I will throw a grenade at you. Push you in front of a train, it’s true. You might have to die for us brother, but we won’t do the same. Let me give you a hypothetical situation. 9am and the games are set to start. Everyone is stretching and shaking off the cobwebs from the night before. A ranger approaches with his female partner (assuming subordinate) clapping his hands saying “This is great! This is just awesome! You Guys are great!” Naturally the group feels the ranger is happy to see them. Then the ranger turns evil. His smile to a demented sneer as he unveils his true intentions. “You guys haven’t paid for parking, you’re parked illegally, you’re hacking on a tree with a hatchet and you let off fireworks at two in the morning last night! Either you are all gone when I get back, or I am writing everyone tickets!” He storms away. You try in vain to ask a question as he flexes his pecks to his female accomplice. You are all left standing there wondering who is to blame. Time to turn to the disposables! Thank God we remembered to invite some disposables! As the disposed of participants drive off you are satisfied that the ranger was able to assert his authority while allowing you to stay after assuring him that the perpetrators were expelled from camp.

3. Dress appropriately. In this case, we chose to look like a bunch of dudes on our way to a Chick-Filet protest. Tight clothing, with overtly homosexual messaging as well as brightly colored accessories is a must. This clothing allows for maximum performance during the game due to the form fit and flexibility. It also means that everyone will give their best effort in order to prove that the flamboyant attire is merely a ruse to fool the competition into thinking you are not manly enough

4. Do something stupid and moderately dangerous before and after the games. One example we came up with is “Wrist Rocket Roulette.” Sit in a circle, do a quick hand check, then begin to have your designated sling shot operator shoot his ammunition straight up in the air. Then just wait for it to hit someone on the head. The anticipation of getting struck will give you goose bumps and plenty of giggles. Make sure the biggest and manliest looking among you whines the most during this game. That adds in the ever important comedy factor that you need at any man game event. Light armor can be used for protection. I chose a paper plate to protect my freshly shaved head. A stupid choice like potentially losing an eye will keep things light and funny. This activity never gets old. You can also do easier games like, “Throw the football at people who aren’t looking” Or “Hatchet in a crowd.”

5. Vomit at strategic points in the game, not just when you “feel” like it. I chose to induce vomiting two events prior to the iron man challenge that closes out the games. The iron man is a six pack chugging contest. Three beers per partner. This was a key turning point in team-Some like it hot-s medal hopes as it allowed me to be on an empty stomach going into the finals.

6. Have a gluten intolerant person in attendance. This makes sure you have someone to judge the competition because they can’t drink beer! Make sure you bring a striped tank top and booty shorts to make it clear who the referee is. Try to get them to drink anyway in hopes of seeing the look on their face when the gluten hits their system. We were unfortunate enough to not get to witness it at this year’s event, but hopes are high for 2013.

Put this event on your bucket list. After all, we do things like this for two main reasons. The first and most obvious is for the experience itself. The second reason we do it, is to have a story to tell. Some of the best times I have come when I sit around with friends and we share stories. I want stories to tell. To be able to say “One time I flew from Los Angeles to Oregon to win a little John Wayne trophy for third place in the man games. I wore neon yellow and green trimmed underwear with a tight shirt that said “First Come First Served” on it. I think the park ranger thought he walked up on a Tosh.0 fan club meeting. We all passed out at like ten o’clock and thought Steve was dead when he wasn’t moving the next day.”

To my fellow participants, including the disposables, I extend my thanks. To my wife who was more than happy to have me go-I think I paid you back in full upon my return.

Men plus Women Equal 4

I don't know any better than you why it is I choose to write relationship advice.  I basically have gone out of my way to do everything wrong.  Me being an authority on relationships is like taking child mentoring lessons from Jerry Sandusky.  Heyoooo.  What the hell though.  Maybe I am just the guy who read the book "Failing Forward" and really, really took it to heart.  Recently I had the chance to ponder one of the Mrs. and my latest arguments.  The nature of the argument escapes me but I am sure it was really a very mature one like they always are.  Something along the lines of who should be responsible for washing out the beer pong cups or how does a thirty four year old man still leave racing stripes in his underwear.  You know, life altering stuff.  Shan and I actually do a better job of avoiding the disagreements over things worth disagreeing about, like finances and what to watch on television, instead settling on quibbling over the little things.  So I sit down to help my little princess angel baby sunshine ray daughter do her 11 year old math.  I'll just say, 5th grade math, when you are as far removed from school as I am, could just as well be advanced nuclear calculus.  But I don't tell my daughter that.  I say things like "Heck yes I know how many bananas should be left after the monkey stole the barrel, but Taylor, if I just told you you wouldn't learn anything."  Then I walk away, Google it and come back like frickin Einstein and give her the answer from on high.  Taylor and I were struggling over an equation that I actually knew, like, what is 4 plus zero.  I was trying to relay how to get to the answer and she couldn't get it.  I walk away exasperated and a while later she says that she got it.  I came over to make sure she arrived at the answer as instructed only to find that she took a completely different path to get to the answer than I thought she should. The odd thing was that the answer was right.  Picture a light bulb floating in the air over my head and brunette angel babes going "AHHHHHHHHHH" in an angel babe way.  Yes, all my angel babes are brunettes so please refrain from picturing them with and other hair colors.  Except maybe one red head.  After completing the visualization exercise we can get back to the blog.  Go ahead, I'll wait.  Sister Wives is on and I love that train wreck.  AND WE"RE BACK!  Equals four! I say.  By golly I have possibly unlocked a little relationship nugget.  Men and women both tend to focus on the outcome.  Equals four.  Now, follow me here, we spend so much time focusing on the outcome of an equation, that we forget to understand that the outcome is not what went right or went wrong.  Understanding the equation and how each of us come to the outcome is what is important.  If you asked me, what equals four?  I would say, two plus two.  Because I am a simple kind of man.  If you ask a woman what equal four, they are more likely to tell you that the time of the month divided by how fat they are feeling plus the square root of  "He loves me, he loves me not" equals four....Duh.  Get where I am going?  We both have the same outcome but have different ways of getting there.  Do people go into a relationship wanting to be unhappy?  Unloved?  Hurt? To hurt? To lie or be lied to?  No!  So why, when we know that we both want the same thing, to be happy, do we wind up getting so messed up along the way?  I submit it is because I know how I would get to four, and she knows how she would get to four, but neither of us take the time to fully understand how the other one gets to four!  So when I try to get Shan to be happy, I take 2 plus 2 and say that should get her to four.  But she doesn't get that.  Same for her, she thinks getting me to four is way more complicated than it really is for me.  So although the solution to the equation is the same for both of us, neither of us can get there because we want to be happy together, which means her understanding how I add things up and me understanding how she adds things up in order for us both to come out happy!  Does it mean I have to get a degree in rocket science?  Yes!  Does it mean she needs to strip things down to the lowest common denominator?  Yep!  But understand, the issue isn't the issue.  An issue is an outcome of an equation.  Bad communication plus work stress equals no kiss when the husband gets home.  So the wife says he doesn't care because he didn't kiss her.  He yells back that it is just a damn kiss and isn't a big deal!  She screams (crying too while clutching her knitting) that it is a big deal because he hasn't been home all day watching kids!  And he storms off to the driving range.  We realize no kiss was the outcome, but the lack of desire on both parts to understand why the other one came to that outcome means it is destined to happen again.  This goes for the positive as well people.  Ever said to your significant other....boy this was a great day, and she says back, the best.  But we don't talk about what made it great for each of us.  That makes the great day difficult to reproduce.  It's why guys keep doing the same thing that worked once but has become stale and old.  I am rambling at this point but you understand where I am going with all of this.  Understand how they get to four, and communicate how you do.   

The Christmas Story

Recently I was reminded of one of the roughest Christmases I was ever privileged to while trying to tell my kids the meaning of the season.
I grew up in Harrisburg publicly poor. There are two different kinds of poor. People you know are poor and people you don't. I have been both during my childhood. We always seemed to lack extra money. Weird how that happens when you are raised by someone who likes to gamble. While Dad was in the army people didn't realize we didn't have much because everyone looked the same. Lived in the same kind of housing, wore the same things, all shopped at the same places and so on. In sixth grade my father, brother and myself moved to Harrisburg to live with my dad's girlfriend. She had money, but that still didn't make it's way down the chain to my brother and I. I had two pairs of jeans and second hand, bright silver wresting shoes. But still more privately poor. Not too long after we arrived in Harrisburg my dad and his girlfriend had a falling out and my grandma came to her baby boy's rescue. So she bought the trailer across from the grade school. Yep. We lived in the trailer across the street. Kind of hard to act like a trust fund child when you walk home to that. So from that point on it wasn't like I was fooling anyone on my financial situation.
December of '95, if I remember correctly, my brother had graduated high school and I was a Junior. Josh moved out post haste and I couldn't and didn't blame him. I was just my dad, my dog and myself. Many of you remember Pretty as the dog who layed in the street and wouldn't move for your car. Or maybe she ran over to the school during lunch to say hello. Perhaps you were at the football game at the high school when I had to chase her off the field before we could start the game. Good dog, but I am off topic. Dad got a call that Grandma had a heart attack. It was the week before Christmas and he was understandably distraught. He left immediately for California to be by her side. Good for him to support his mom like that. Not so fun for me, who was left at home. I had no family in Oregon at the time outside of Josh who was off doing something for the holidays that I can't recall. Mom was in Montana living her life there with my little sister. No Aunts or Uncles or anything like that. Just a newly christened seventeen year old home alone for the holiday.
I needed some kind of tree. So what if it were just the dog and I. A tree was definitely a must have. Ray Crosiar was free that day and a willing accomplice to trespassing and to a minor degree theft, so we went over by Morse Brothers to see what we could see, saw in hand. The trees were all too big to cut down and drag home. One of them had a pretty good looking branch though so we cut it off and drug it to the trailerhood. We kind of wired it up since I didn't have a stand and it looked...well...like a branch wired up. So pretty pathetic. I knew why it looked so pathetic though. No decorations. We didn't have any decorations but being a resourceful youth I did the next best thing. Toilet paper. This was the logical choice because a) I had some (Thank God) and b) it could be reused and my butt would have a nice aroma of pine.
I settled in for my lonesome holiday. Chin up though. I don't remember being sad. I just remember knowing that it was the situation I had to deal with, so I had to just deal. Well I had been going to church for a bit and the family up seventh street had become a favorite of mine to hang out with. Gregg was a good guy who was really nice and Brenda seemed to think that I had a hand in hanging the moon. She also was constantly telling me I should marry her daughter Shannon. Shannon was a fun girl who always seemed to be fun and a bit sarcastic so I didn't mind that. Her little brother Kris was funny and annoying at the same time. Every time he would get me worked up enough to decide to put the hurt on him he would run away though. Well the Skovbo's caught wind of my predicament and asked me to spend the holidays with their family. Normally I would say no to the offer of help. Needing help means being vulnerable and being vulnerable meant being weak and if you are weak you can be hurt. I don't like being hurt. I lied a lot to people to get around them knowing I needed help. "My ride is on the way" "I don't like that movie so have fun but I am good" "I'm not hungry, don't feel well." Well for some reason instead of saying I was too busy wiping my ass with my tree decorations to go to their Christmas stuff, I just took the offer. As I told my kids it was a good Christmas. What did I get that Christmas? Well if we are talking about physical gifts, I got one. Shannon's family was gathered at her grandparents house all opening stuff and out came a gift for me. Much to my surprise. They obviously felt very bad for me and decided to give me a gift that was highly prized. A package of socks. Good thing I was an accomplished deceiver as I told them how much I liked the socks. "Hey white, my favorite color. How did you know?"
At this point both of my kids are silently watching me from the hallway. They are standing in the hallway because that is where they were when I started yelling at them about being ungrateful. Jax sparked the controversy. I told them to give me their non-electronic scaled back Christmas lists. Jax couldn't believe he would be missing out on all the stuff he wanted. He explained how excited he was to get those things at Christmas and also talked about the let down it would be after anticipating it all year. I told him Christmas was about caring for your family more than stuff. His reply stunned me. "Dad, I care about this family every other day of the year. Can't this be the one day I don't?" That is the point I started yelling my Christmas story at them. And that is where they stood as I finished my story about only getting socks.
"You know what though guys?" I said after drilling home the fact that I would rather they just say thanks for coming then pretending the socks were for me. "All I got for Christmas was a pair of socks. And it was the best Christmas I ever had. I spent time getting to know your mother, the girl I was going to marry. Even though she acted like she didn't want me there I know she did. I also got to spend time around a real family. One that loved each other and did real family things. I didn't get that. So although I got a pair of re-gifted socks I was still happy and thankful!"
Taylor welled up with tears as she began crying and telling me she was sorry that I had to spend Christmas like that. Jax, less indignant at this point said he understood now and was fine spending a Christmas that was family focused. I hugged my little girl and felt that sense of great satisfaction that come from knowing you have done your job as a parent. Making your kids to feel guilty about being spoiled.

Three Dog Night

I posted a little status update about this a while ago but I thought that I would expound on it since it has been bouncing around in my head. It is no secret that I was separated from my wife for a while this year. During that time I don't think I have ever done so much self reflection. Dare I say that being separated like that, although not ideal, could very well have been one of the best things that has ever happened to me in terms of forcing me to look in the mirror and be honest about what I saw? I submit that I do dare say such a thing. I personally prefer to never ever look at myself. If you know me then you are well aware that I spend most of my time amusing myself with observations about others. Its easier like that. I will make fun of the way you act or the things you like. Most of the time I do a funny impression of you that you are unaware of. All to keep myself occupied because when left alone in a void with only myself to be with, well then I have to really look at myself and I don't want to do that. When I look in the mirror I rarely see the good. Especially with my birthday rapidly approaching. I see wrinkles by my eyes and on my forehead. Well they are more like crevices than wrinkles. My skin has a lot of flaws. Blemishes if you will. Am I still in junior high? When does that crap go away? And where the hell is my hair? Really? Thanks for nothing Verizon Wireless. You can have my soul just leave my hair. I am trying to grow some on my face but it is more of a wishful thought than a successful venture. Spencer Pratt has more success with his flesh beard than I do with my scraggle goat. But when it is just you left alone in the house of mirrors all you can do is look at yourself. Boy did I do a lot of that. One thing I had to deal with was just how damn lonely I felt. I know we have all heard the song by Three Dog Night telling us that one is the loneliest number. At first thought it seems like you would agree. It would be lonely if you were the only one. No one to talk to or interact with. Like Tom Hanks on castaway you would be making friends out of volley balls and then managing to alienate yourself from sporting equipment too. Let me throw this by you. I thought about this during one of my sadder moments. I was thinking about loneliness and I thought, "That Three Dog Night is full of shit man." One isn't the loneliest number. It is one. One is all it can be and all it ever will be. Unfortunate yes, but one has no choice but to be alone. Real loneliness is when you don't have to be one but you are any ways. I'm not being clear so I am going to metaphor this bad boy for you. I am alone on a dessert Island. Just me and no one else. It sucks because there is no option to talk to anyone else. No option to have contact and interaction and stimulation from another person. That bites. Now one day, another person washes up on shore. You are in absolute elation as you realize you don't have to be alone anymore. You run to your hut and start planning on making bunk beds, that way there will be so much more room for activities. No longer will you have to sing both parts to that Kid Rock and Cheryl Crow song. Finally you will be able to find out if your curve ball is unhittable. This is going to be great! So you run over to your new found friend and eagerly introduce yourself. "Hello, my name is Jeremiah and I am a cast away. Pleased to meet you good person. May I take your coat?" No response. Well that's odd but perhaps this individual does not speak the same language. This will be even cooler because we will teach each other our native tongue and come up with some kind of hybrid language that only we will know and no one else. Like those twins do. It will be like on that movie "Enemy Mine". As we learn each other's language and culture the universe will learn from us and finally have peace. "Hola Heffe, mi llama es named Jonesey, bueno tu meet tu. Er um... Can I take your coat?" The person is looking right at me but not responding. Deaf? Let me try hand signals. Wave, um, thumbs point at myself, one thumb stays pointing at me while the other points up. Now I point at the person with one hand and also give the thumbs up. Now I do the, here is the church, here is the steeple, open the doors and see all the people..... Nothing? Really? So they aren't a foreigner and they aren't deaf. Blind? Fake Punch! Ha you flinched. Not blind! Ha! Wait. That means this person is just.... ignoring me. I try and try to make them interact with me but the ass just won't. Now I wish they had never washed up on my shore. I made bunk beds. We aren't even staying on the same side of the island. Now this is loneliness. Every minute of every day I am reminded that I don't have to be alone. That if they would just talk to me, acknowledge me or anything then I would have contact and the loneliness would be gone. But since jackass mute arrived I have had to carry my loneliness like a lead suit. Poorly tailored lead suit. You know where the coat is too long and it makes you look short? Yeah a lead suit like that. Makes my ass look big too. Insult to injury right there. So now I long to be alone again. It was easier like that. No constant reminder that there could be some one to finish "I saw you last night at the hotel......I said, I saw you last night at the hotel....... Come on pal. Throw me a bone! How can you not chime in? Marco......MARCO!!!!" This person is unflappable. Anyway, I wish I were alone again. See? One isn't the loneliest number after all. At times it has felt like that in my own relationship with Skovbo. It has gone both ways too. At times each of us has been the one not acknowledging or validating the others existence in our lives. When we were separated it felt unbearable at times. You had to fight the want to just be left alone on the island rather than be on the island with someone else and blocked out. Like I said, it was a mutual isolation, like north and south korea. With everyone we know Rodney King'ing us...."Why can't we all just get along?!" But it really made me feel as lonely as I have ever felt. More lonely than I felt was even possible. No Three Dog Night, you say two can be as bad as one. I submit that it can be far worse. Far worse but also, infinitely better.

The OCD Project

I am watching this show on VH1 called the OCD project. It is all about people with arthritis. I kid, it follows the treatment of OCD patients. It is crazy what some people allow their brains to let them believe to their own detriment.

My fav is the, "I can kill people with my thoughts" guy. He is all sorts of freaked out that his thoughts are going to harm people. Wracked with guilt over this great power he is compelled to seek treatment. I have to tell you something buddy, if I really, I mean really thought that my brain beams could mess people up.....One thing comes to mind. It ain't guilt either. Its SWAGGER. Hell I would have more swagger then Little Wayne. Why feel bad?! I would feel totally superior. I would be on the phone right now with my big brother screaming "That spill in the gulf. the one that is destroying everything, yeah you know the one. I did that because you were an ass to me. Way to go Josh. You killed crawfish and ruined Jon Lemond's Jambalaya. If you even think about screwing with me again you're next!" The practical applications would never cease. "Taylor Jones, you don't have to eat your veggies, but I am sure the famine I cause in Africa because of that will make you think twice." Mind beam famine power enabled!

There is no OCD thing I wouldn't enjoy having. Germ girl, why is she sad? A girl who never has to clean?! Us guys have been loving that for eons. Repetitive person who has to do something over and over, I have to force myself to do that. Its called the elliptical. How awesome would that be if I couldn't stop. Am I right or am I right?

The best person on the show is jack ass therapist guy. He gets to get paid to legally torture people. Its like a license to waterboard. "Shelly, I know you are afraid that if you see yourself in the mirror, bloody marry will jump out and steal your soul. Well open your eyes because you are in a women's changing room! More mirrors than on a disco ball! Oh Shelly yes! Slamming your head in that mirror is you telling bloody Mary to go away for good. Shelly....Shelly...Somebody get a mop. And a new Shelly." Therapist guy couldn't believe that when he put Masochist as a qualification on the application that it was the hook that got him the job.

I just hope next season they have someone who has OCD about not wanting to be on a reality show. Ooooh ooooh even better...and I just thought of this. How about people who have OCD about wanting to be on a reality show? Oh wait, they already have that. It's called The Hills! Zing!

I think we all have it to some degree. Something our brains make us do, that makes no sense, that inhibits our lives or hurts us. I'm talking to you stalker guys and dolls. Yeah you know who you are. You like someone, and then your OCD comes out. You think that by trying to drive away anyone from the opposite sex and by following them and freaking the F#@% out when you see them within a city block of the afore mentioned opposite sex, that they will love and appreciate you for it. They tell you to stop being insane but you just can't. Instead you wind up with another restraining order for the 'ol dart board. Maybe you are the- can't help but look in every mirror I walk past girl, or has to eat everything on their plate separately guy. We all have a little crazy in us. What's yours?

When the battle seems lost

First of all I would like to say this will be probably the longest blog I have written. For me probably the most, um, I want to say important, maybe meaningful, but I guess the most real. I am talking to myself here but feel free to listen in on my conversation. Its boring too. Be forewarned.

I don't like the Buffalo Bills. When they went to four million superbowls in a row I hated them. Mainly because they were in the AFC and everyone knows the Oakland Raiders should be superbowl bound every year. One game the Bills played struck a chord with me though. January 3, 1999 the Bills in a playoff game are losing to the Oilers by a staggering 32 points. Their starting Quarterback Jim Kelly was hurt. They had every reason in the world to quit. It was out of hand. Instead they register the single greatest comeback in NFL history. They didn't quit, even though no one comes back from 32 down.

The reasons a game like that strike a chord with people are obvious. Everyone loves a come from behind underdog type of situation. I know I do. For me I guess it represents more than a feel good story. It represents the will to compete when losing is almost a surety. I grew up with the deck stacked against me. Mom and Dad fought. Not like Mom gives Dad the cold shoulder type fighting, but Mom yelling for someone to call the police because Dad is going to kill her type fighting. Life 7-Jeremiah-0. Then we moved a lot. Klamath Falls, Alaska, Monterey California, Sacramento, Victorville, San Diego-Victorville-San Diego, Alpine Oregon, Monroe then Harrisburg. It made a shy young man like myself learn that relationships are temporary and not to let anyone get closer than arms length. Why would I? Soon I would be gone and they would be a distant memory. Life 14-Jeremiah-0. In the mean time my parents finally divorced and it allowed Mom to pursue her pot and Dad to spend time gambling. The low point was after my brother had moved out and my Grandma had a heart attack. I was left in the trailer to celebrate my Christmas as a teen alone. I cut down a tree branch and propped it up. Threw some toilet paper on it as a garnish and called it good. Life 21-Jeremiah-0. I was lucky enough to have a family to spend time with that Christmas, my future in-laws the Skovbos with their daughter who did not want me there. I got a package of socks from their family, a gift obviously meant for someone else that they threw my name on because they felt bad for me. I score a fieldgoal for not being totally alone so if you are keeping score its Life 28-Jeremiah 3.

Dad got a girlfriend and moved to Corvallis so I asked a family to let me stay with them. They agreed. Dad moved back to town to get back together with a lady who hated me and he asked me to move back in with him. Life 35-Jeremiah 3. Down by 32. It didn't work out and I moved back in with the Oakes family to finish out high school there.

Through it all though I never had the spirit of a quitter. I just could not, could not accept the fact that I was resigned to lose. That I was so far behind that giving up was the right thing to do. It can be hard to kick against the goads I hear. I always hated losing anyway. Didn't matter if it was football or who was first in the lunch line I wanted to win. I was a super sore loser too. I hated to lose. When I moved to Harrisburg I got put on the worst baseball team we had. We lost all the time. I made the All Star team. My team may have lost a lot but I just couldn't quit. I could not accept the fact that I couldn't effect my circumstances by working hard, competing relentlessly and if I was going to lose I was going to lose knowing that I gave it all I had to give. Hell I got a pencil in the shape of a gavel given to me for being the best debater in class. I wouldn't even give up in an argument.

Then I decided to marry my highschool sweetheart Shannon. Life 35-Jeremiah 10. We were young and crazy and fought like hell, but I had married someone who had a spirit like mine. Neither one of us was willing to give up. It caused us to fight so long we forgot what we were fighting about and at the same time we loved so hard that we couldn't be separated. I thought at that time my future was working with youth in church. I was driven to succeed and make sure my life had purpose, reason and worth. Life 35-Jeremiah 17.

The church was called Crossfire and it had a dynamic Youth Pastor. Pastor Aaron was driven like me and worked relentlessly to see his ministry succeed. I fit in well when working to help him reach that goal. He moved to Senior Pastor and his promises followed to many in the church about how we would all work toward the greater good. Over time though I saw something that didn't line up right with my inner purpose. You could not succeed at the church unless you were willing to give up to whatever Aaron wanted. I am sorry if you are reading this and disagree. Feel free to do just that. I am speaking from my perspective, which may not be your own. I didn't give up. I just couldn't. I couldn't be the person that relied on the pastor for everything I received. I watched people give up their fighting spirit to live off of what they thought was faith, but what, in my opinion, was living off the church. The pastor wanted for absolutely nothing, however everyone fed from the scraps off the table. I couldn't just give up and think that my life boiled down to hand me down prosperity from someone who could not handle my fighting spirit. So I made the move and left. I left to go make a living that provided for my family. The church needed me to be the loser, even though the scoreboard didn't reflect it, and they let everyone know I was an adulterer and thief. It's their perspective and they are welcome to it. Reality is there was no infidelity and no money taken and I have since gone on to be very, very blessed in my pursuit of career stability. Life 35-Jeremiah 24.

Well here I stand. I have come from behind but the game is far from over. I just don't know how to quit though. I just can't. If I do quit, I know that the Jeremiah that I know will wither away. Sometimes that fact that I refuse to just throw in the towel when I am doomed to fail can frustrate and anger people but I guess I am Apollo Creed telling Rocky not to throw it. If I die, I die. But I do it my way. I go down swinging. If I am willing to fight over nothing you should know I will fight like hell when there is everything on the line. I'm a fighter. To my very core. If in the end I am the Bills and come from behind for a victory then I am remembered a champion. If I am like Leonidis in 300, and fight a losing battle, then hopefully I will be remembered as someone who never gave up. Someone who bloodied a few lips and cracked a few heads before being overpowered in the end.

Like I said, I am talking to myself. Like a timeout for a pep talk I needed to remind myself of who I am. What I am. I have to be me. I may seem stupid, I know I am still behind but at least I have my second wind. No humor here. You are due a refund if you read this blog under false pretense.