I’ve been bullied at all stages of my life. In elementary school, one boy set his sights on me after I ended a phone call early to watch Deep Space Nine. He teased me endlessly. The advice of my stepfather was to punch him. So I did.
He punched back. I didn’t know what to do.
I fell into a bad crowd in high school for a month or two: teenagers who decided to play on my naive, socialized nature. I was almost literally rescued by the theater crowd.
This very moment is the intersection of art, faith, and identity.
(CW: suicidal thoughts)
I was devastated by yesterday’s news. I stayed up into the small hours of the morning reading election results. I then dragged myself to work on three hours of sleep, putting on as brave a face as I could (messaging friends with “are you okay?” when I wasn’t at all). Then, after someone replied to one of my Facebook posts with “Oh, now you found your voice!” – as if I hadn’t been telling everyone I know that this result would be a disaster for our country – I lost my resolve.
It was Stephen King, in his mandatory book On Writing, that described his writing desk at two stages of his life. Early on, his desk was gigantic, “T-rex sized” as he puts it, in the middle of his writing space. But later, he got a smaller desk, placed it to the side, and filled his room with other things.
Perhaps the best thing that could have happened to my writing was walking away from it. After my output slumped in June, I decided to break from anything that wasn’t paying me (basically, everything but The Daily WTF) and focus on everything else in my life. I had to get rid of the T-rex desk in my own life to get some things in order, but coming back, I realize that writing never left me. It’s always there, no matter how long I break from it. The trick is, as King discovered, not letting writing run your life, but to live as broad a life as possible and still be able to write.
It was the morning of New Year’s Day 2001. I was riding with my mother through a McDonald’s drive-thru, and she asked what I wanted. “Hash browns,” I replied. I was (and am) a fan of all manner of chicken biscuit sandwiches, but I was on a mission that morning. I had been listening to Moby’s latest CD, and discovered, upon reading the liner notes, that he was a vegan. I decided that, while going vegan would be too much too soon, a vegetarian lifestyle was something I could live with. Never again would I consume the dead flesh of animals.
Being multifaceted has some drawbacks. People speak about having exactly one lifelong passion (and jobs sometimes demand this from employees), which doesn’t sit well with me. It’s like the concept of a soul mate, that mythical person that’s perfectly matched to your strengths and weaknesses.
That is to say, it’s equally bollocks.
So what is it that I do?
I’ve been cagey about discussing my religious beliefs on this blog, apart from that religious history I posted a few months ago. I’m a Unitarian Universalist, something which I’ve never hidden from anyone, but UU a bucket religion: it carries what you put in it.
Following a joyful and transformative experience at SUUSI this year, I felt the need to integrate a meditative practice into my lifestyle.
Well, that, and I ate and drank way too much.
Mindful eating is something I’ve never practiced in any seriousness. I’ve always eaten voraciously, practically (and occasionally) inhaling my food. While I’m a snob when it comes to coffee, sushi, and craft soda, most of the time I haven’t cared much about the quality of my food. I’m also an unrepentant grazer.
2016, besides being the most turbulent year in memory, has heralded a return to my roots. I’ve thought a lot about deep-seated issues: the reasons for what I write and why; my current profession as a web developer; whether my character is as good as I think it is. 2015 was about deconstructing my life to its essentials; 2016 is about starting to rebuild.
For various reasons, I’ve thought a lot about my interior spiritual life. A requirement of membership at my UU church is a description of your childhood beliefs, and I thought it time to try this exercise again.
A few months back, I vowed not to discuss the primary or general presidential election on Facebook. It had a lot to do with the divisive Democratic primary process, with my Hillary friends and my Bernie buds at loggerheads, and an unwillingness to sling any more mud after some testy exchanges. During one exchange, a friend who supported Bernie Sanders said that if Hillary Clinton got the nomination, he would instead vote for Dr. Jill Stein, the presidential candidate for the Green party.
Solely by political orientation, I should be a Green party supporter. I lean far left; I support taking action on climate change; I’m worried about the rate of species extinction; my college major was Environmental Studies.
But no. I will not be voting Green this November.
(TW: violence)