intersections

It’s like you’re in a hurry to an unknown destination, but you find yourself hitting all the red lights.

Every moment is an intersection. And you find yourself stuck at the red light, not sure what to do, not sure how to move forward.

Instead of having the scenery whisk by you in a whirl of color, with the growing excitement that accompanies speed, you find yourself restless, annoyed, and lost. There is nothing to distract me, nothing to placate my mind. The intersections are where I am reminded of how unhappy I am and I honestly don’t know what would make me happy.

And you find something like the following which speaks to how your every day is like.

“One fine day you decide to talk less and less about the things you care most about, and when you have to say something, it costs you an effort . . . You’re good and sick of hearing yourself talk . . . you abridge . . . You give up . . . For thirty years you’ve been talking . . . You don’t care about being right anymore. You even lose your desire to keep hold of the small place you’d reserved yourself among the pleasures of life . . . You’re fed up . . . From that time on you’re content to eat a little something, cadge a little warmth, and sleep as much as possible on the road to nowhere.”

It could be the serotonin or lack of it talking, or just some overestimation of the accessiblity and prevalence of happiness. Or the lack of awareness that so many others are unhappy and my narcissism only denies others suffering. Maybe it’s because I have not prayed enough or I haven’t been able to put my entire trust in God’s providence. As a person who professes the Catholic faith, I am terribly horrible at suffering. If this is my cross to bear, I will be honest I do not like it, in fact I hate it to the point I end up hating myself. Even when I  reluctantly consider how offering it up can bring along great blessings and graces, I still find myself at odds with God.

And when I find myself at the intersections on what feels to be a road to nowhere…. I don’t find myself with much to say to God…except to ask why did you bring me here?….why did you waste so much on me for this? And then the light changes and I move on without an answer, without much relief except for another brief distraction from living until the next intersection.

St.Valentines Day

This Valentines post is a short little script I wrote for my sociology seminar class on the Marxian perspective on “love.” I have a love/hate/frustrating relationship with Valentine’s Day. In all honesty, I don’t want to be that bitter single person who resents Valentine’s day and all the happy couples. I will not negate my yearly disappointment in not getting flowers or a card from a beloved or even secret admirer, but I will not express it in some sort of alternative anti-Valentine’s day celebration. Even at this moment I am working on my Hello Kitty Boxed Valentines, that I purchased from Walgreens. I plan to pass them out to my co-workers “a la elementary school style” to bring out the fun and joy connected to Love. 

Happy St. Valentine’s Day!

Here is the script:

In Treatment: Love——Valentines Day

T: I see you’re wearing your “I heart Marx “shirt again?

L: (looks down at shirt) Yeah. It’s what I wanted to wear. Been kinda just wanting to wear it everyday.

T: (inquistive look) every day? Hmmm..why do you think that is?

L:  Why do I want to wear it everyday? (briefly lost in thought, then heavy sigh). I really hate this time of year. It’s the commercials they start getting to you. Oh those tv ads, all those jewelry commercials. I can’t even listen to my car radio.  Actually. I just hate this day. Valentines day. When I was kid, it was easy, no problem, you bought some stupid little box set of valentine’s day cards. Sure you carefully picked out which cartoon box set to choose and which ones to give to the people you actually liked. Maybe you had a school crush and you gave them the one about them being your valentine….or maybe you didn’t because you didn’t want the whole world to make fun of you. But when you’re older valentine’s day is just…do you know people call it SAD day?

T: sad day?

L: Yeah it’s an acronym as is in Single Awareness Day? S. A. D. Because the whole day’s emphasis is about who’s coupled with who? Who has someone who loves them. Who’s got a date that night, or who’s boyfriend or girlfriend is going to surprise them with some conspicuous arrangement of flowers or stupid edible arrangement. Who even buys edible arrangements? That’s so lame, edible arrangements. I never want to get one of those, even if it is the cookie ones…

Anyways, at the office, it’s the most messed up day for women. You just watch the delivery guys walk up and you see there’s a delivery. And ALL, I mean ALL, the women just eagle eye the package. We are all secretly hoping it’s for one of us. These flowers or balloons or stuffed bears are like coveted surprise trophies. They are like this indication of status. Of your love status! Hmm (laughs).. your love status. Does someone out there in the world, love you? You know, I once had this co-worker get flowers from her parents… and you know I was actually kinda jealous of that…Isn’t that crazy?

T: Why do you think that it’s crazy?

L: Because it is. It’s insane. I hate myself for feeling so upset about it. I hate myself because I follow the duping with the rest of the world.  I’m an idiot just like the rest of them. Sigh. I mean, ever since we are young, we have been like taught to expect this, to want this. The childhood fairytales, the storybooks….the movies. Oh..gosh the movies! All those damn movies. The romantic comedies, the ones where the guy and the girl get together in the end.  He always gets her some nice flower and “surprises” her…and we all get this idea that we want that. I hate that I even go watch those movies…but I still go. We are idiots. I’m an idiot.

T: Idiots? Why.?..Why, do you say that?

L: Why are we idiots? Because we think that it’s really all about love. And it’s not. It’s about ….economic value. Some humans get to be more valuable than others on that day.  And that is basically what love is, how valuable you are. And since we live in a capitalistic world, value comes down to money. And that is why I’m wearing my I heart Marx shirt. Love is just money.

T: Do you feel less valuable because you didn’t get any gifts?

L: When I don’t really think about I suppose I do. But then I remember. I remember what is happening.  Take for instance flowers. You know I actually love flowers. I like roses and well actually gerbera daisies. Those are my favorites. I actually have fantasies of someone surprising me with a bouquet of gerbera daisies. Ugh such a cliché. But then part of me is disgusted.  You know when all these stupid flower tents pop up during Valentine’s day and umm.. oh yeah Mother’s day.  We never stop and think…gee where did these flowers come from. No, you either fixate on the price and wonder why it’s so much more expensive than last year. They are basically blood flowers, just like blood diamonds. Did you ever see “Maria Full of Grace”? It shows you the horribleness of these flower plantations, where people have horrid working conditions and that’s like their best option. The protaganist, she gets pregnant and quits the flower plantation because of the working conditions. And then she basically becomes a drug mule. When I see flowers, I think about who grew them, what horrible place did it come from to just be some status object. Same thing with diamonds. I wouldn’t want a diamond ring anymore.  Hmm.. what did you ask, again?

T: nodding, Umm, I asked if you felt less valuable when you don’t get gifts?

L: Strangely, yes I do. I want to say No, not really, I want to recognize how utilitarian this all is. How our current society’s grip on this idea of love is so demeaning and excluding, how it just enslaves people and creates more social inequality more disconnection.

T: Do you really believe that?

L: (looks down at shirt )I’m pretty sure Marx would believe it.

Meaning of Life Trajectory

Age 17ish -Journal Entry
The meaning of life is that we are to bring meaning into our own lives, we are responsible in making our lives meaningful.

Age 20ish- Elevator Conversation in College with Academic Advisor
Laura- So you’ve been working hard? Probably figuring out the secret to the meaning of life. (smiles)
Me- (staring at elevator buttons). Hm.. no. You know, I don’t think I want to find out the secret to the meaning of life. Let’s say you find out the secret to the meaning of life. Then, what? What do you then? That’s like the ultimate thing and you’d be done with life and everything else would just pale in comparison.

Age 23ish-Late night conversation at a diner with close friend
Me-This whole time I have been trying to figure out the meaning of life…and it’s explained right here! Clear and plain. I can’t believe I didn’t know about this. It says. “Faith is man’s response to God, who reveals himself and gives himself to man, at the same time bringing man a superabundant light as he searches for the ultimate meaning of his life….. The desire for God is written in the human heart, because man is created by God and for God; and God never ceases to draw man to himself. Only in God will he find the truth and happiness he never stops searching for..(CCC26-27)” Its right her in the first pages of the Catechism. Wow. It’s like just wow. (sigh).

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The meaning of Life (human life). Or the meaning of own’s life… my life. These questions emerge and haunt me even now, even when I supposedly “know” the meaning and purpose of my life (in the general way, I mean the Catholic perspective). Unfortunately, I was born with a disposition towards existentialism in a world that often refuses to accept any “grand narrative” or objective truth. So it is a struggle to totally  accept that I was created through love and freely “acknowledge that love and entrust [myself] to [my] creator.(CCC27)” To conceive of unconditional love, that which can only come from God is the greatest mystery and the most difficult blessing to allow myself to accept. This utilitarian world we live in, which measures and calculates the profits, return on investment or cost of anything whether it be in materialistic economic activity or social activites (friends, relationships), only creates an understanding that in all places boundaries, conditions exist. Conditions for being paid attention, for being listened to, for being liked, for being loved. People say that your parents will always love you no matter what. It is true that not all children experience love from their parents. But if the argument is that your parents will always love you, is it becuase they are your parents and you their child? Is that the condition? Would they love you if you were a complete stranger. I always wondered that, would my parents love me if I was not their child but a complete stranger. Am I then still lovable? Granted I canot be a stranger with God, for he created all things. But I often wondered what or why would God love me? Is it only because he created me? I try not to linger on these questions too long for they break my heart and cause terrible sadness in my soul. I only hope to one day truly understand and accept God and his unconditional love. In God’s love lives my freedom in truth.

Might have to go where they don’t know my name

It has been eight days since returning from my “pilgrimage.”  Yet, this past weekend I spent it asleep all day on the couch, escaping away to my unconscious. The retreat-like high had plummeted back to my often present low. The warm glow of joy and hope was rather short-lived despite its most welcome appearance. I faintly remember wanting to hug everyone in the few days I returned. Unfortunately, I really only had my parents to immediately share my adventures. Then of course on my Monday back at work, my dear co-workers made a big fuss regarding how my trip went. Yet how does one share the experience of a pilgrimage, a spiritual journey with co-workers?..My thoughts have returned to a negative sort in thinking that my presence is often best when absent. It may not have helped that it was only two of my friends (both male, each married with the responsibility of families) that made the concerted effort to reconnect with me and be intrigued and caring enough to entertain me with questions about my trip and my experiences.

By the beginning of the weekend I found myself restless and alone. Both were things I did not experience while on my trip. Granted I lived on a very structured itenerary and in the constant company of 39 other humans. Still it was a rough reality to return. I thought I had captured some access to hope and joy that I could pull into and apply to my regularly scheduled life. Now, I must sift through my scribbled notes and gazillion photographs and dissect what in fact I experienced and most importantly learned.  Perhaps there is still something that can be reclaimed and not lost entirely.

Previous to the trip and once again, my faith life has receded to a rather isolated state of attending Sunday Mass (sometimes through struggle) and seeking and living God’s will in my life. A rather lonely and heavy journey seemingly rarely interrupted by the company of others. *This trip if anything provided a brief repose. A home where I could understand more fully the communion of saints and what it means to be part of the family of God. And I do give thanks to God for that.

The title of the post is a line from “Up with the Birds”-Coldplay  (it is actually a song with a hopeful ending)