Writing Journal

I remember growing up wanting to be mediocre. When I was in first grade, a friend of my mother asked me how my grades were in school. I replied by saying that they were average. She followed with why just average. My reply was, “It is too hard to get As and it is too shameful to fail. So average is the place to be.”

Can I just live? What exactly does that mean. Aren’t we all living? We all breath, eat, sleep, have sex, etc. So why do I feel that I need to continuously remind myself that I need to live. It must not be as simple as just going through the biological functions. There must be something else. The Buddhists believe in purposefully living. I don’t quite grasp that concept. What does that mean? My understanding of it is focus. I need to focus on what I do no matter what it is. It does not make a difference what I am doing, I need to be sure a clear my mind of other thoughts and distractions in order to get the most out of the present. In a way, I have to be mindful of what I do. Never mind how others are perceiving me or how I will perceive the product or service or outcome. Just do it. It is all a practice of concentration and mindfulness.

To be content, it needs to come from within myself. If I am satisfied with the present I am intrinsically happy.

That was a very pompous line delivered by a successful writer in the movie, Wonder Boys. But in all seriousness, I am a writer. I was told that one does not need to be published or have won awards or even to be any good to be considered a writer. As long as one has a writing practice, he is a writer. That speak true to many things I do. It is often that I am overly critical of myself and not consider myself skilled in my hobbies. They are merely for past time or messing around and not worthy of being called the creator of the art. For instance, I have never considered myself to be a musician even though I have been playing piano since I was five. Certain pieces of music I can actually play very well. However, I always feel that I don’t know enough music theory to be considered a musician. To me, a musician understands music beyond just what a tune sounds like. He should understand harmony and cord progressions. All the things I never learned as I had only learned to read music and play it as is. A lot of my friends are musicians. They truly know the art, not me.

It wasn’t until I was told that I am a writer because I perform the act of writing that I understand that I can be a musician even if I do not know theory or the intricacies of how music is written. I do not make a living through music but I am a musician as I am a writer.

Keeping my plate clean has been a problem, metaphorically speaking. Day after day, I play catch up. Never am I able to reach the goal. Constantly I am slightly below the surface of the water reaching for the boundary, holding in stale air, longing to open up my lungs to take in the ever need element for life. Just hold it for another second or two or three. In time I will breath freely again.

The best compliment that I can receive or give to a stranger. It speaks louder than any comment I can possibly muster out while walking past someone on the street or looking up to find myself making eye contact with someone at another table across the restaurant. The gentle lifting of the corners of a person’s mouth bringing the eyes to squint ever so slightly can melt away any walls and defenses I have put up to create a sanctuary for my sanity. It allows me to respond without pretention but with true compassion and connection for as least a brief moment. The feeling is that I am validated as one who is worth the effort of a smile.

Or is it first lust? I remember my first girlfriend from high school. Before her, there were other encounters. Mostly, they were flirts and hand touches followed by run aways down the hall. But, my first love was different. She turned my world upside down. I could not focus on my school work, but that did not require much attention anyway. My thoughts were in much more intereting areas, mainly in her pants. She was in most of my classes except for Spanish as she chose French as her foreign language requirement. We studied together a lot and they were very exhilerating study sessions. At that time, most guys wore sweatpants all day long. Pitching a tent was an every five minute occurence. Our study session usually included a bit of fondling and rubbing.

We began dating after a party at a friends house. I was in what was known as the geeky crowd so parties were not the norm. Our regular out of school activity consisted of soccer, basketball, and track depending on the season. On the weekends the boys would normally get together at a friend’s house to play basketball until the sun went down. So it was quite a change to have a party that Saturday night. Our mutual friend decided to have a bunch of friends over for games and a movie. There were no beers or bongs or anything else for that matter. Her parents were at home and they were hanging out upstairs.

When the party started, it was quite tame as we had expected. Games of Trivial Pursuit and Scrabble were our predominant entertainment. After a couple of hours, we got bored and wanted something different. Our friend offered to put in a movie she had rented and turned the lights off for better viewing. Shortly after the lights went out, most of our friends had paired off and were making our with each other. I was really shy and did not make a move on anyone. I did not feel comfortable to approach any girls at the time. They felt so far superior to me. Why would they want me? There was so much self doubt and the inability to communicate with someone I had a crush on. What if I spoke to her and she turns away? What if she laughs at me?  There is no way I could face anyone in school the next day. It would be too embarassing.

So I sat there with a pillow on the back of a chair and drapped my arms over it while resting my chin on it to be in a comfortable position for the movie. At that time, my friend came over to me and noted how comfortable the pillow looked. She asked if she could share it with me so she could rest her chin also. I was able to sputter out some form of affirmation so she pulled up a chair next to me and shared my pillow with me. She settled in next to me bringing our heads together. We watched the movie for a while but a could not concentrate on it. Her proximity made me excited yet uncomfortable. There was so much desire growing within me while there was also a lot of anxiety towards the possibility of making a fool of myself. My discomfort led me to shift my head. As I turned toward her I noticed she was starring at me through her stylish wireframe glasses. We gazed into each others eyes for a moment and she closed her eyes. I then moved my lips the two inches that separated us and kissed her.

My mind was shaped through my experiences. At times I believe that I am an artist who has missed his calling. In school, there were many terrific science and math teachers while art and language educators were lacking. In that environment, I found that mixing chemicals in test tubes and doing calculus was interesting and sometimes even fun.

What would my life have been like as an artist? That is impossible to determine as every little change can have drastic effects on the outcome. For instance, I would not have met the friends that I have met in college as I may have gone to another college for art. I would not have met my wife as I had met her through a friend from college. Actually, if I had been an artist I might be sitting there writing about how I might have missed my calling as an engineer and wondering what my life would be like if my past had been different. The writing, however, might be better.

It all comes down to just living at the moment. I am not who I am without my experiences so I would not have the same questions and would not be wondering what my life would be like if I had not had those experiences.

I was able to follow my advice from yesterday to step back and see the wider view. Today when I was distracted, I would look out into the distance to re-focus. It was not that I was able to concentrate for a prolonged amount of time but I was able to stop the tangents from fully carrying me away. It was not unlike meditation where your mind has a continuous flow of thoughts but you can just watch them go by without getting carried away by them.