The Existential Crisis

Slouching unenthusiastically in the booth seat, I read through the same Facebook feed I had looked at relentlessly for a glimmer of entertainment for the past 20 minutes one last time before relinquishing my iPhone and placing it on the table. It was a tired routine that many are familiar with, the endless search for a satisfactory distraction to distance themselves from the pangs of the real world. Emotions, relationships, eye contact: they all seem so overbearing when paralleled with the pixels on a screen and the simplicity of egotism; life's easier when you only care about yourself.

I suppose that due to my lackluster expression and posture, a little girl, who had been sitting a table away from me, came under the assumption that I was waiting for something or someone. Having the bravery of a child she approached me. "Hey kiddo," I said, unsure of her intentions.
"What are you waiting for?" She had a half smile and a distinct spark of curiosity in her eyes.
It was a simple question, but I suddenly felt the world around me rush out of focus. Eyes widening in amazement, I sat in shock as I felt the friction on the tectonic plates in my soul suddenly release, and the tremors pulverized the immaterial walls around my heart. Unable to muster up an answer to the question, the girl lost interest and wandered off. What am I waiting for? Is it a person? Is it an event? I knew I was unhappy and I didn't know why; I knew something was wrong and I didn't know what. It haunted me.

Of course, after that split second of confusion and questioning my entire existence, I realized what she meant. How silly of me. I've come to terms with the fact that it isn't really the question itself though, but it's about how we respond. That feeling she gave me in the moment went away but the question still remained, and I didn't really have a response for myself, and it wasn't just because I wasn't *actually* waiting on anything; I was definitely waiting on something. I guess more than anything, to me, the question turned out to be rhetorical. The real heart of it lied in the fact that I shouldn't be waiting on anything at all.

It's all terribly cliche and cheesy, but for a split second, I really did have my own little existential crisis. Everything in my life hit a stone wall and I felt unable to explain who I was or what I was doing with my life, all because a kid thought I looked bored. Life is a very long ordeal: it's the longest thing we'll ever experience. Regardless, this is no reason to waste it. If you're waiting on someone or something to come into your life to make it better, you've forgotten that you are your own plot device. You, and sometimes you alone, have the power to set into action a rich and meaningful life. The idea that you are important enough to be the main character of somebody else's book isn't just selfish, but dumb. There are billions of individuals on this planet, and you are only one of them.

I know I told you earlier that living is easier when you only care about yourself, but to be completely honest, that was a half truth. Living a life where you only care about yourself is hardly a life at all. I will personally guarantee you right now that, the next time you're at lunch or dinner or a coffee date (aka maybe right now), if you will put down your phone and look the beautiful person across from you in the eyes, you will find more enjoyment in them than you would in the black hole of attention called your phone, and if you don't let me know and I will drive to your house and give you a hug. Escape from the harshness of reality and the difficulty of human interaction is in the palm of your hand, and if you choose to surrender the moment you're in to that fancy screen you will never get it back. So, instead, face the challenge head on and be the best "you" that you can be. Living is hard, and anybody who tells you otherwise hasn't tried it yet. It's hard and it's wonderful and it's yours for the taking.

Get Outta Town, Gandhi

"Live as if you were to die tomorrow." - Mahatma Gandhi.

R.I.P Steve Jobs

You may have seen this picture circulating around the inter-webs recently. Let me begin by saying that I don't mean to lessen the death of Steve Jobs or the millions of adorable African and other third world babies. My family actually supports a little boy in Haiti. He's super cute. His name is Pierre.

With that being said, this comparison is like equating the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi to the deaths of the thousands, and possibly millions, of clones and rebel soldiers.

Steve Jobs was a world renowned icon for technological advancement and perseverance, and was, to many, a hero. Obi-Wan was the mentor of Luke Skywalker who trained him in the ways for the Force, and is, to many, a hero. (Nerd query: would "the Force" be considered a proper noun, thus needing capitalization? I did capitalize, just in case. I have no idea.) Those children are people we have never met, do not know the names of, and are dying every day. Clones and rebel soldiers are faceless, nameless, not really important at all, and drop like flies (not to mention their aim is atrocious).

It's like equating the death of Princess Diana to the deaths of the approximate 146,000 people by natural or unnatural causes every day.

It's like equating the death of Boromir to the death of the thousands of Gondorian soldiers that died in the second and third Lord of the Rings.

It's like equating the death of Tupac Shakur to the death of the hundreds of Chinese children every day from poor living conditions.

It's like saying that you should mourn the death of someone you passed on the street once just as much as you should mourn the death of a relative you saw all the time and knew and loved. It's just not the same.

I could go on.

You have to understand that people do care about those deaths. People die every day though, and if I had to be sad about every single one of them, I'd just be depressed and the the freaking time. There's a disconnect in the human brain that allows us to trudge on through life despite the fact that everywhere in the world the vulnerability of life and the proclivity towards death is being demonstrated.

Please excuse me while I pull a Forrest Gump; and that's all I have to say about that.

Things that make me want to cry.

Have you ever had one of those days where you just need to sit down and think? Well, that happens to me all the time. And for some inexplicable reason, these songs help me get the deeper, more tender part of my brain to start working. I don't have like, a written out list of things that make me weepy, but these music pieces I've compiled here are just a few of the great works that make me feel all mushy on the inside.