Black Friday

Since starting my job in September, I haven't spent any of my money on anything other than groceries and paying down debts. I've been watching Black Friday deals -- not like I can avoid them, since some places literally started advertising them in October -- to catch some good deals on clothes and stuff for my new apartment. But when Friday finally rolled around, I found myself
lacking in any real want for material possessions. I don't have everything, but I'm happy with what I have.

My family is unfortunately very indecisive when it comes to their Christmas wish lists, so I didn't have them to shop for either. (Protip: don't go Black Friday shopping to browse casually. You will get trampled and wait in long lines for what will ultimately not be worth your time, in terms of money.)

So here I am, a quarter century old, not remembering a time when the day after Thanksgiving was spent just being happy with what I have. I can't decide whether that's wonderful because of the overwhelming sense if peace or depressing because the feeling is unfamiliar and I seem to be one of far too few in this mood.

Here's to more days of giving thanks.

Free time (or lack thereof)

It occurred to me the other day that we, especially as Americans, have less and less "free time." Never mind the fact that we have less vacation time than other first-world countries and our society's addiction to caffeine -- whenever we have spare time, the tendency is to pack it full of "productive" activities. I was just listening to a podcast earlier today about how various medications people have created in an effort to get rid of the need for sleep entirely. Why? Presumably, at least to employers, to work more, but hopefully to have more free time as well.

Sure, people say "TGIF!" at the end of a long work week. But after vacuuming, dishes, laundry and grocery shopping, suddenly an entire weekend is gone. Even breaks and lunch hours are spent on the phone scheduling oil changes or doctor appointments, sorting out bank account issues, paying bills online.

I feel guilty when I spend a day for myself -- curled up in a chair reading a novel, for instance. I wonder if I should be reading a self-help book instead, maybe learn a thing or two about cooking or improving myself otherwise. I think about how many calories I could be burning if I were reading on the treadmill at the gym instead. Suddenly I feel very lazy. The extra time it takes me to get out of my worries and actually into the book makes me feel even more guilty when I reflect later on how long I spent sitting around reading.

I've actually been listening to less music and cramming in more informational podcasts and audiobooks -- there's a prime example of giving up things I enjoy in the name of productivity.

So why do I always feel like I don't have enough time? With life expectancy higher than ever and a wealth of technological conveniences, you would think there would be time to rest. But there's this little nagging feeling in me -- maybe in all Americans, maybe in the human spirit -- that keeps saying "you can do more." Surely it's what fueled great inventors and artists, given motivation and goals for people all over the world.

But is there a point where it becomes a little detrimental? I think I'm trying to find a balance between "reach for the stars" and "don't worry, be happy." I typed "the balance" a second ago and backspaced -- I don't know that there's a perfect balance. I imagine it's different for different people, anyway. Most things seem to be.

I want to be just

--what's the word, motivated? striving? aggressive? no. overachieving? no. I want to be just...

fired up(?)

enough to keep improving, I guess.

Enough to not feel lazy, maybe. Enough to feel like I'm not being left behind, like I'm not wasting potential. It's a tough wire to walk.

(750 stats)

Highly Conceited

Tonight the United States of America elected its first black president for a second term. Gay marriage and recreational marijuana use have been legalized in some states. The first openly-gay US Senator was elected. Facebook, Twitter, every television channel, all erupted and have been covering this election all day.

So it boggles my mind when I see someone complain about hearing any of it while proceeding to talk about their own petty issues.

I get that your kid's having trouble sleeping and it upsets you. I get that you think it's important to post pictures of your baby just sitting there. I understand that you do this every day because your child is your world.

But to berate the people who care about other things? To get irritated at people excited about the results of an event that happens once every four years? To scorn the passion with which people express their reaction to these historic events?

Get over yourself.

You're not the most important person in the world. You're not the only one that matters. You live in a world where you interact with other people.

Learn to do it right.

The Best Intentions

One of my friends, a kind-hearted school teacher, was speaking highly of a book he had just read about homosexuality. A devout Christian married to a lovely woman, he wanted to share what he'd read with people who were "struggling with their sexuality." The book was written by a pastor and was essentially telling people they could become heterosexual through will and faith. It claimed to show the way to "recovery" in an "authoritative" and "academic" way, with stories of people he knew personally.

I was appalled.

Both my friend and this author were completely sincere. They knew and loved people who "struggle with temptation." I wonder, though, if I should put "love" in quotes -- I understand that they are concerned for the souls of their gay brothers and sisters, but it seems to me that real love doesn't involve wanting to change a person. I think about drunkards and the people who love them wanting them to get sober. For some reason that idea makes sense to me. But to insist a homosexual person be able to "cure" themselves of their "sin" seems so wrong and I couldn't and still can't quite articulate why to my friend.

He's a good person -- the first to offer to help and the last to leave when the work is done. I can't find fault in him, and could hardly believe he was even looking into this sort of material. He was genuinely concerned about his homosexual friends and wanted to find a way to fit their lifestyles into his belief system.

I can't be mad... but I just can't understand.

Breathing

Took my happy pills early, along with an Advil. Still felt like shit for a while til the drugs kicked in, but I reached out to some friends to keep me distracted.

I've been listening to the Radiolab podcast all day (okay, more like for several months now) but it was hard to focus, so I switched to The Mental Illness Happy Hour: a podcast that, as host Paul Gilmartin puts it, is "an hour of honesty about the battles in our heads. From medically diagnosed conditions to everyday compulsive negative thinking -- feelings of dissatisfaction, disconnection, and that vague, sinking feeling that the world is passing us by." The best part is that it doesn't pretend to be treatment or anything -- he used to say "I'm a jackass that tells dick jokes." So it doesn't set me up to have expectations of "fixing" my situation and makes me laugh too.

"You are not alone," is the overall message of the show, and it is incredibly comforting. It helped me get out of my head and kept me from feeling sorry for myself, which is really what I need when I'm falling apart and feel like I'm losing my mind.

I'll probably sleep soon. Hopefully peacefully this time.