This Blog is absolutely the most exciting thing in my life right now. Some might say this is sad, that I have no life. Those people would be right. Mean, but right. The potential of the Internet is amazing. The ability to interact with others seems wonderful and limitless, and this is very exciting. However, I have not found it easy to really get this blog going. It is, to say the least, intimidating. I expected that I would come home every evening and get some solid work done, share some thoughts and ideas in cyber-space. Network. Interact. Inspire. That is what the Internet, and especially, the Blogosphere, is supposed to be about. The real democratization of information, of thought. Argghh. Perhaps I am just lazy.
Maybe though, it is the visibility. I have lived comfortably in the dark for many years now. Anonymity is like a warm blanket to cover up with, like a child reading after bedtime with a flashlight. Danger is kept at bay with the illusion of safety. I constantly hear a little voice saying, come into the light, there is no danger here. Shut up conscience. I resist, the brightness is blinding, and I fear what I would look like in the clear light of day. Ugly and evil. The handwriting appears on the wall. I am Belshazzar at the Feast. Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin. The verdict: found wanting.
How to make amends for my shortcomings? How to communicate with others? These are the questions that stick in my mind. Currently, only two or three people know the location of this blog. Few are granted a window into my existence. Part of me likes it that way. Sharing is hard. Admitting that I am not up to the challenge of life is hard. It is not something a man wants to do, that is, be seen as weak.
When I descended from my Ivory Tower, so to speak, into this modern world, I thought I was stronger than the rushing current of this wonderful city. I am a like a rock, I thought, in this river of life. There is no way I can be washed away. A foolish boast, it now turns out. I was very wrong. Thinking myself special, above others, different; all have proven to be false. New York City is the great equalizer. Even with money, the city controls and shapes your life. Hopefully, this painfully won humility will serve me well some day.
It seems everything in daily life has proven to be a challenge to which I am unequal, and most days I use all my energy just to keep a fleeting grip on the thin, twigless, leafless branch that has been extended to save me from drowning. I hear the wood strain and snap and I cringe; looks like I am going swimming after all.
There are many things I want to do, many ideas and efforts that I expect would make the world a better place and myself a better person, but time keeps slipping away. Swimming along, if only I could reach the bank, I think to myself, then I could accomplish something useful. Learning Chinese is at the forefront of my ambitions. This is easier said than done, work and life are draining and exhausting. I remember now that when I was young, and my father came home from work, all he wanted to do was relax a little bit before the cycle started anew. I understand dad. It is a sad revelation to realize that being grown up means there is not enough time for everything. So much responsibility, not enough energy. Is this what being a man is?
This is, in fact, the subject that still concerns me the most. What does it mean to be a man? My brothers and sisters, children of the Baby Boomer Generation, know well that our parents failed to equip us for the realities of adulthood. We did not mature the way previous generations did. On the outside, our life may seem blessed and easy. We have modern conveniences and limitless intellectual and material resources. It would seem that we have it made. Observing my own and others near constant depression and anxiety, however, I must dispute this assessment. Our hardships are not physical strife and suffering, but are the very real, if not corporeal, mental anguish of living in this modern day Matrix. Some days I exist in a fog of existence, seemingly groping my way through the day. Clarity is elusive here.
I have seen, however, in the countless people that I encounter everyday, late twenty and early thirty-something wanderers in this urban jungle, a desire and hope for something more. We all long to transcend this web of existence that binds us to its formulas and rules. Lost in this world of limitless information and opportunity, like seeds waiting long to sprout, we keep watering, praying for germination. Laboring in blue-collar service jobs, we dream of big futures. For most of us, however, the thankless labor exists simply to pay our exorbitant rent and have a little fun in New York. Cool bars and indie rock shows and perhaps a little ganja on the side, just to ease the mental stress of the city. Savings accounts, investments, forget it!
The human possibility that we have inside is kept tame by the necessities and rigors of this world. Where are we going and how can we, how can I, unlock this marvelous potential energy within? And, what will that even mean? A blog, a job, success, money, a woman? What!? My parents had careers and families by the time they were 25. At 32, I have no idea what to do next, and it scares me. What will I be when I am 50? Still a perennial loser?
Perhaps it will not matter. The world appears inexorably headed for catastrophe. The recent string of disasters and disturbing climate changes seem to herald a critical turning point for human life on earth. Do we change our ways, quickly now - for time grows short - or do we accept that this 'civilization' we have built on the back of science and industry is fated to fall. Would that be such a bad thing, to start over? Lately, I have been mentally and physically preparing myself for what only five years ago seemed a fantasy, the end of the world as we know it. And I feel fine...
Humanity, is clearly on the brink. I don't need 80 degree November days, or crazy California fires to tell me that. The signs are here. The weather is accelerating, faster and faster towards critical mass. There are, nonetheless, hopeful signs also. It may be that Mr. Gore's recent bestowal of the Nobel Prize for his work on Global Warming is the portent of real change to come. I hope so. It will take more than hybrid cars and modest recycling programs to change the tide now. The precipice approaches.
Well, back to the 'real' world, snow has come to New York City, winter is back and I have gone native...
