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Money isn’t everything

I think it is okay to be content with things the way they are.

My point is that there seems to be so much emphasis on obtaining something more, that people aren’t encouraged to live in the moment. Why is it that the importance of living in the moment is something one is supposed to come to in the middle of life? It is a lesson we should be teaching our children, fostering in the young, and embracing fully as a society. That isn’t to say that we shouldn’t dream, shouldn’t aspire to become fully ourselves, but it should mean that being who we at this moment should be okay at times. It should mean that being happy with your place in life shouldn’t be ridiculed.

I hate the pressure to “succeed,” a term I’ve discovered only means amassing as much money as possible. I don’t really care for money. It is divisive and fleeting and has no concrete meaning. It does not equal success to me. That isn’t to say I’d turn more down, but it shouldn’t be my only goal. I’d much rather strive for contentment. I think that causes concern for those whose lives have been much more monetarily driven than my own. Working in a bookstore will never stack up to whatever “potential” they’ve seen in me. Never mind my happiness in working in a place surrounded by literature or the fact that that job simply pays the bills while I write (a job that is almost universally unpaid). To me, it isn’t about having the material things or even the security of money in the bank. It is about living my life the way that feels the most fitting. Right now, I can honestly say it just feels nice to be me. And that cannot mean that I’ve failed to succeed.

Separate But Equal

I’ve said it so many times: a couple does not need to be around one another constantly to remain together. In fact, I think that is the mistake that so many make. Granted, I’ve been single for 30 years now and that doesn’t necessarily qualify me to advise anyone on relationships. However, my parents set such an excellent example of how to be together and stay in love that I freely offer advice based on their experience.

I feel like each person should have his/her own friends. If you love to go to the park, don’t force your partner who hates going to go with you. But don’t deny yourself either. A couple is not a fused unit incapable of being apart. It is two individuals, with the thoughts and beliefs and dreams of two distinct people who find that they always want to be in the company of one another. My parents, being my prime example, have done so well at this that they make it seem effortless. Each of them has hobbies, friends, places they like to go. And they don’t always go together. They’ve vacationed separately even, but always come back to one another. They are truly two individuals who are always drawn together. Tethered, but not fused.

Everyone is able to find this. What destroys this, or prevents it, is jealousy and suspicion. It isn’t even remotely possible when there isn’t trust. But the real key to holding on to someone is respect. If you cannot show any other form of kindness towards someone, show them respect. I have seen friends who do all of these things well and those who struggle with them. Struggling is not failure, but not realizing the struggle might be. I just want everyone to be happy.

I don’t really know why I’m on these tangents. I’m not even sure where they are going. I just needed to get the thoughts out of my head.

Oklahoma/Texas bound

I’m looking forward to my vacation, but still feel like I have too much to do before I leave. It is really overwhelming. Despite the efforts of those around me, I’ve have really attached myself to this Alaska and hope I can continue carving out my life here. If I find the winds shifting, I’ll gladly go where they take me, but for now I’ll be content with my life. Distance can be painful, especially with children who seem to grow up too fast, but I cannot deny myself a life I love over it. Family may be the most important thing there is, but I know they love me just as much 4,000 miles away.

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I’m feeling 30 getting closer. I cannot sleep, I cannot hold onto my hair, and Rockstars equal life. I like being me, mostly, and I am really hoping that I have a really beautiful decade. It seems moments away. Meanwhile, my trip back home feels almost over before it has started. Time off is past due, as I’ve complained about recently. I do not look forward to the heat, but I do look forward to the rest. And I miss my family.

I’m reading a book about an older gentleman who I kinda wish I could become, but becoming him would mean a lifetime of being alone. Perhaps I need to concentrate on just being the best me I can be and stop romanticizing what it would be like to be a dreamy old man who is easily duped. Still, I like the idea of it.

I want to go to Iceland. The importance of money is apparent when there are dreams begging for a chance to be fulfilled. Oh, Iceland. And France. And India… and… ….

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Wow! I excel at procrastination. It is a terrible, terrible problem that needs to just stop. A week from now, I’ll be on my vacation. I’ll have just arrived in Dallas after a full day of flying. I’ll be quite thankful to be away. While I already dread not being near a computer everyday, a break will probably be good for me too.

Before I leave, I must get my house cleaned up, figure out what I’m taking with me, finish up a couple of projects, and pop a few things in the mail. It doesn’t seem like much, but also doesn’t seem like something I really need to keep putting off getting finished.

Okay, off too it then!

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Seahorses

We struggle for life, gasp for water
and we die, wriggling and contorting into position.
Our dried carcasses serve as amusement.
Fifty years we’ve been on display,
dust gathering in our rigid and bony structures,
souvenirs for those whose lives were more exciting.
They pull us out to reminisce about their wild youth,
our magic now stripped by time,
and they talk to each other about us and how they miss us.

Some of them forget about us,
about how we thrived in the waters before being rescued,
collected as memorials.
They don’t know about the vibrant reefs like we do,
about the others who didn’t make it or we carried back
to other grey places where they too would be forgotten.
Many of us are labeled for easy identification,
classified and sorted so onlookers can gaze at our husks
in wonderment or disgust… or a bit of both.
Our tiny bodies have become too numerous,
too many have been broken or discarded,
but most of us will fade into the dark obscurity, lost.

The new fashion has been to provide a tank,
to adopt a bit of our habitat and collect several specimens,
lives lived with names and memorialized
as members of families, temporary and disposable.
We exist as novelty, and still a part of their youth,
a part of that colorful past they will talk about one day,
sharing the photos with their children and grandchildren.
They’ll talk about us, about how much they love us,
pulling us from the drawers and boxes to prove themselves,
they’ll show videos they took of the tanks filled with water,
convinced that they are showing great love for us.
But when they are no longer beings asked to show off
their specimens, their carefully curated collections,
they’ll put us away again and go back to their real lives.

We will keep wishing that our dried bodies would stop
finding their way into souvenir shops of those who
do not want to dip into the water and experience our lives.
We don’t want to live in tanks either, playthings of people
who do not understand that our beauty has not been for them,
that our magic was meant for ourselves.

The sun is coming up on the horizon,
Christopher Street is quieter than it used to be,
and I wonder if a generation is coming
who will realize the world that was fought for,
and I wonder if they will long for the days
when they were precious trinkets of other people’s youth.

Notes

Written 1 July 2009 in Anchorage, Alaska & 5 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Seahorses” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)Continue Reading

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I don’t get it.

I got sucked in and now you can too!

Seahorses

A seahorse struggles to hold life, gasping for water
as it dies, wriggling into the position it will dry into.
Agony for the sake of amusement. A carcass is worth
the smile on the face of a child who will pick at the bits
left in the bony-plated shell of now peaceful being.Continue Reading

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There is nothing in the world as wonderful as sugar free popsicles. It is one of those things that I cannot stop myself from eating once I start, which is why I look for the smallest boxes possible. Last night, I selected a rather large box, 24 popsicles, and had myself a little party. I stopped myself with 2 left and my tongue irreversibly in pain. Today, the reminder of that wonderful dinner is a dull pain that will eventually go away as my tongue heals. I guess you really can get too much of a good thing.

I went out with some work people the other night, a sort of Pride celebration of our own. It was nice to be out in the world. I rarely leave my house to enjoy myself, preferring solitude most of the time. After a little lesbian mud wrestling, some dancing, and general stupidity I remember what I liked about the world. Perhaps it is time to come out of seclusion.

While I’ve known this about myself for a long time, I really wish I wasn’t constantly reminded of it: I have trouble finding the line between friendship and love at the beginning stages of getting to know someone. I imagine that isn’t uncommon, but it does irritate me about myself. Spending time with someone who is fantastically poorly suited to me as a partner, but who I am ridiculously infatuated with, made the pleasantness of our evening a little tainted. I wish that social interaction was more natural to me. I always feel a little like I’m viewing everyone else in their natural habitat, like some sort of nature park. I almost never quite feel connected to all of the other people. I’m starting to wonder if my nephew might be right, but about all of us. Perhaps we really are just from another planet entirely.

I know that perfect person — the one who understands me as well as I will him — is out there. Patience can be trying, but I haven’t reached the end of it just yet. I do keep saying that; I suppose it is still true.Continue Reading

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anti-discrimination ordinance

Round Three!

I don’t know the outcome of tonight’s assembly meeting, but the testimonies and the images of people with signs has me thinking.

One of the most striking things — and the most obvious — is the separation of folks into blue shirts (those supporting the anti-discrimination ordinance) and red shirts (those opposing the ordinance). For some reason, my mind keeps going back to the time two of my closest friends chose ignorance over me. At the time, there was a day on campus when those in support of the GLBT community were told to wear jeans. My friends, fearing what others might think, wore khakis that day. They did at least feel guilty enough to confess to me that they had done that, but I’m sure they didn’t realize how hurtful it was for me to hear. I’ve never been able to get past that event. It is clearly one of the things that has pushed us apart as friends.

Seeing large groups of people whose agenda is to spread intolerance is difficult enough, but when they involve their children it is even worse. These kids should not be spending their time protesting people they’ve been taught to not understand. They appear bored, or in the case of the ones who are young enough, excited to be a part of something that seems so important. It is unfortunate that they don’t understand what it is they are doing. It saddens me that we live in this world.

I know far too many people from the “red shirt” side of things. These folks are family or have been close friends of mine over the years and I suppose it never dawned on me to be offended by this behavior. I guess I thought knowing me would eventually be enough, but it isn’t anymore. Those whose ignorance taints our relationship aren’t as welcome in my life as they used to be.

John’s blog — including blogging as the assembly meeting took place Wednesday evening
Heather’s blog — including blogging from the previous assembly meetings as well as transcripts.

reading

It has slowed a little, but I’m still on my reading kick. Today I read The Little Guide to Your Well-Read Life by Steve Leveen. This little book was pretty helpful for learning how to read and when. It makes a lot of points in a small amount of time. I especially liked the idea of organizing your bookshelves into “book candidates,” “books I’ve read very recently,” and “books I’ve read.” It seems obvious, but I have a tendency to arrange my shelves by genre. I then have to scan my shelves for a new book to read, waiting for one to jump out at me. He also talks about having many more books than you will ever read at home, an idea that has always seemed natural to me, but for which I guess I needed permission.

I’m still making my way through the 4th Harry Potter book, my friends having finished the series already. I find myself easily distracted, reading other things at the same time. My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon has been somewhat interesting too.

I’d like to be a part of a book group again. Maybe I’ll start one up if I can’t find one I like.