Thursday, May 19, 2011

I hate my brain (sometimes)







The first song I ever remember hearing was the Supremes classic “Why do fools fall in love?” I remember being driven to school by my mom and hearing those words, “Why do they fall in love”. The tune was so catchy, so alive, so bouncy, I looked around the car to see if it was having the same impression on my brother that it was having on me. It wasn’t. To him it was just another song playing on the radio, but to me it was more than that. For some weird reason, that song spoke to me. It moved me. It touched me. From that day forward fools and love were synonymous. Anytime I heard the word love, I thought about fools and then I would ask why?

Why be foolish when you don’t have to be. Being a fool can’t be a good thing. Right? So why are we so hell bent on being one? Why are we in such a rush to become a fool? Why is that side of the highway so full and why is the other side, the side I’m on so empty.

I’m distant. I like space. I wouldn’t say I’m cold, but I can be a little chilly from time to time. This is how I deal with people. On the other hand, I start to get really passionate when it comes to ideas, concepts, and theorem. I guess you can say I’m a cerebral guy. How many four year olds do you know that can dissect the essence of “Why do fools fall in love?”

One could deduce from my bio that I have some intimacy issues. I do.

I’m a classic case. I come from a broken home. My mom and pop split when I was three years old. My grandparents have been together for over four decades but they hate each other. I’ve witnessed every type of argument imaginable. I’ve witnessed adultery, I’ve witnessed drunken stoopers, I’ve witnessed neglect, and I’ve witnessed abuse. I affectionately call this the “rainbow of dysfunction.” Seeing all this has helped my development as a person. I’ve gotten to see the seamy underbelly of relationships. So to me there was no place to go but up.






The funny thing about it is that you would think that all that would have turned me into some type of stereotypical man that just perpetuated all the negative things that he grew up with, but it hasn’t. In a weird profound way it has made me more determined to be a good man, to be honest with myself, and to be honest with others. The most important thing that it has taught me is to really know what I want, and not to settle for what is readily available. The common denominator in my parents, and my grandparents’ relationship is that they settled for something they didn’t want and ultimately made themselves unhappy because of it.




My mom was a free spirit; she was all over the place. My pop was conservative. My grand mom was ultraconservative, and my grandfather, well he is just off the chain. With this information alone, an outsider with little knowledge of either couple could tell you that happiness wasn’t in the cards. I’m not going to say that happiness was an impossibility; I’m just going to say that the odds weren’t in their favor. But you know what, they did nothing to improve those odds.


Through my observations, I’ve learned that unhappy is a decision not a consequence. All this reality strengthened my resolve to find real solutions and not to just go in the way of conformity. I learned that ordinary people conform while extraordinary people move the bar everyday.

So I became a student of people. I’ve watched, and observed every person that has come in out gone out of my life. I study them. I study how they talk, and what they do, and whom they know, and how all those thing meld into who they are and how they handle their relationships.




I think this is where it started for me. I observed so much that I became distant. I started to see people as subjects. There is a side of me that sees people as experiments. I often wonder how they will respond given variable changes. It’s kind of sick. My brain is mapped differently. It started young. I saw a stone-faced cold person in the mirror one day and embraced him. I didn’t run away. I liked him. He was me, and he was all I was given to survive and thrive in this world. Maybe I should have run but I didn’t.

I’d witness friends and family falling apart emotionally over things that seemed trivial to me. This was sad, but what was worse was how those emotional downfalls led to bad decision, and those bad decisions circled right back to emotional downfalls. My only way to escape this ring was to love my brain and breakup with my heart. It’s the gift/curse paradox. Those Greeks were on to something. Now I live and don’t feel regrets or remorse, but I wonder sometimes am I truly living. Emotions are all around me and I’m immune to them. I couldn’t catch an emotion if it sneezed on me, got mixed in my food or had unprotected sex with me. The ones I love and the ones that love me have them, and I often find myself thinking about what they are feeling.


Now I’m 38, and my brain is on autopilot. Years of conditioning have made it unstoppable. I’m so attached to it. It’s my identity. It’s who I am. I don’t know what I would be without it. I recently tried to change it. I really tried. I wanted to see how other people lived. I wanted to be one of them. Get along. Connect. Right when I was starting to change I ran. I wasn’t sure I wanted to break up. I got cold feet. I starting thinking I’m too old to change who I am. Would I like the change? Would I hate myself for tampering with the gift? Or even worse, what if I lost my uniqueness and became ordinary? In a world of over 6 billion people a man needs to be unique right?


You know, now that I look back on it, I’ve never been normal. I mean, I’ve never thought about things the way my contemporaries have. If everyone is going left then I want to go right. I don’t trust the crowd. I don’t believe they are thinkers. I believe the crowd is no more than a bunch of followers. Mindless robots.


Speaking of mindless robots, I’m a religious man. I was born and raised in the church. I continue to go because I believe in God, and that His teachings complete us. I’m a member of a nationwide church that has small congregations all over the country. In my heart, I believe, that religion is good and that it can make the world a better place. So in that regard I guess you could say I’m committed to God. It’s funny because I think He’s the only thing I can commit to. It’s easy to commit to Him. I never have to see Him. I have scheduled times when I worship Him. He never asks me how I feel about Him. He never needs extra attention, or for me to ask Him how His day went. Our relationship is great because He’s low maintenance.

I’ve been in several relationships. Although they never last long, I can truly say I’ve enjoyed all of them. I don’t regret any of them. They’ve all been great learning experiences for me. Funny thing is I never know if women like me because of my uniqueness or in spite of it.