A list to end the year...

I know it's such a cliche, but I'm amazed how fast this year has flown by.

Last year, I was at my friend Tim's house, about to become a homeowner, start up a masters program, continue my work at the newspaper and flee the troubles of 2005.

This Sunday will find me at my friend Jason's house, which is down the street from my friend Tim's house, happy to no longer be a homeowner, be knee-deep in my master's program, no longer work at the newspapers and struggle to fully embrace the uncertainty of 2006.

I suppose one of the key elements of the M.A.Y.A. Years is this process of discovery. There are two questions that have to be asked and answered:
1. Who am I?
2. What am I going to do about it?

I am now fully convinced that once you come up with an answer, you realize how much it really doesn't suffice.

I used to be gung-ho about figuring out what exactly happening during the course of a year and creating resolutions for the new year. Last year, I even had a theme "Breathe and be." I think I accomplished that in some ways, and barely began to start in other ways.
This year, I don't want to set any goals. However, that's not gonna happen. I'm a goal-oriented person, whether I admit it or not. I need goals, challenges, dreams to keep going. My quarterlife crisis hasn't been not having something to strive for...it's been figuring out which thing to cross off the list first.

Nevertheless, one thing that did stick out this year that I want to keep with me. 2006 saw the story of the George Mason men's basketball team. Their rise to the Final Four was nothing short of amazing.
I read an article about the coach, Jim Larranga in the L.A. Times. In the story, the coach was talking about his team philosophy and how he got there. He talked about levels of commitments and being a real team. He spoke of meeting his mentor often and sharing the pages upon pages of "stuff" he had on basketball.
His mentor would eventually tell him that all the pages and pages were simply not needed. In the end, one only needs one page of "stuff" to coach basketball. Everything else is everything else.
So, Larranga set up to create one page worth of essentials. It took him about two years, but once it was done, he said he had a peace of mind and a clear philosophy about how to coach.

I have to say this article really affected me. I keep hearing that you know what you know when you know it. Everything else is everything else. Is this really true?
So, this year, I started this one page. What are the absolute essentials that I need to live a good life (in addition to salvation and such). Here's what I got so far:

Despite my hesitations, or maybe because of my hesitations, I do believe that God is a loving Being.
I believe that I am a good person.
My outlook of life and all that it entails depends solely on me. I alone provide the lenses upon which I see the world.
God and I are the only two beings that get to define who I am.
Life consists of forces and beings; this interaction creates connection and chaos. Because of this, I make choices, and choices make me. Some things can be attributed to God, other things are attributed to the forces of life.
I believe that I am a spiritual being having a human experience, not a human being having a spiritual experience. My spirit is the “key” to me.
I have an inherent need to connect with other people, and this inherent need must be nourished and fulfilled. My dual consciousness--having a strong self that is connected to others – demands my highest priority.
The real world is the world I make real.
The future, like the past, is a manifestation of now. The past is now memories, and the future is entrenched with expectation. I am living in the present, and the future is open and undefined. I trust the freedom of the spirit, which I believe comes from God, to open and unveil the future.
I know what I know when I know it.
I believe in Christ, and his message of redemption and hope. I claim Christ as my Savior, knowing my relationship with Christ is spirit to spirit.
I know that the truth is in the shifting middle: the endpoints are constantly moving, the middle point is quite vast, with huge pockets of undefined clarity yet to be discovered and revealed.
I know that time is a string of pearls, or a moving train, or some other metaphor. In essence, time is how I perceive it. Moments provide opportunities for life to occur. It is in those moments where life truly exists.

I do realize that this is very philosophical and such. I guess that's the foundation that's needed.
So, in leaving 2006 and looking forward to the new Year, the M.A.Y.A. Years (well, at least me) is calling on you, dear reader, for advice. What should I add? Take away? Any good ideas for this new year and enjoying the time of the Middle Aged Young Adult?

Anyways, may the New Year be one of greatness, fruitfulness and joy.

Tis the season for more postings...

But that will have to wait for just a bit longer.

Nevertheless, Merry Christmas and happy holidays from the M.A.Y.A. Years!

Life is in the coffee...

This comes from my friend Jamie. Very, very cool stuff.

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. The conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life. Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of
coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain-looking, some expensive, and some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the coffee. After all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said:

"If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is but normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress."

"Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases, it 'it's just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups...and then began eyeing each
other's cups."

"Now consider this: Life is the coffee, and the jobs, houses, cars, things, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life, and the type of cup we have does not define nor change the quality of life we live. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us. God brews the coffee, not the cups ... enjoy your coffee."

Being happy doesn't mean everything's perfect, It means you've
decided to see beyond the imperfections

Live in peace and peace will live in you.

Worry doesn't help tomorrow's troubles, but it does ruin today's happiness.

Barely afloat in a river of academia...

I am about six pages short of being done with this semester.

If anything, I learned that I shouldn't put off for tomorrow what I can do the day after.

Anyways, sorry for the lack of consistent posts. Both Linterella and I are swamped, but soon, we should return with more holiday M.A.Y.A. goodness.

Hello. I'm Descartes.

I found the following quote by Descartes in an article in The New Yorker today:

"When I consider the fact that I have doubts, or that I am a thing that is incomplete and dependent, then there arises in me a clear and distinct idea of a being who is independent and complete, that is, an idea of God. And from the mere fact that there is such an idea within me, or that I who possess this idea exist, I clearly infer that God also exists, and that every single moment of my entire existence depends on him... And now, from this contemplation of the true God, in whom all the treasures of wisdom and the sciences lie hidden, I think I can see a way forward to the knowledge of other things."

Descartes. Damn.

I have a vague recollection of studying Descartes in school, probably in my college philosophy class, but I can't remember a thing about him. Before today I'm not sure I could have accurately attributed the famous line, "I think, therefore I am," to him. And I certainly don't remember finding him all that interesting, as I did after reading the above passage, which prompted further research and reading.

It is truly unfortunate the amount of information that was wasted on me in school. I just wasn't at all interested in most things presented to me, especially anything related to math, science, or history. There were too many formulas, too many laws, too many names, too many dates, to remember. So I just didn't bother. I clung to just-this-side-of-passing grades in these subjects for most of my life. In fact, I had to take both high school intermediate algebra and college algebra twice. I stayed afloat only because my grades in other subjects—like art, literature, creative writing, drama, leadership, yearbook, humanities, pop culture, etc.—more than made up for it.

During parent-teacher conferences in grade school, my teachers would often blame my performance, or lack thereof, on "boredom." They thought that I was not sufficiently challenged on an intellectual level, that this stuff was somehow below me. Eh. As wonderfully brainy as that makes me sound, I don't think that was the case. It wasn't boredom. It was laziness and egocentrism. I was only interested in learning what I wanted to learn when I wanted to learn it. I had nearly encyclopedic knowledge of some subjects while my other courses were merely blocks of time set aside for me to read, write poetry, pass notes, or doodle.

But a funny thing happened shortly after college graduation. I suddenly became very interested in everything I once ignored, especially the sciences, history, politics, and theology. For five years, I've been on something of a rabid quest to fill these gaping holes in my brain. And the more I know, the more I realize how much I don't know (didn't Einstein say something like that?), which then prompts me to know more. It's crazy, this quest. Endless. I have 14 magazine subscriptions—three of which are weeklies—from Time to Vanity Fair to National Geographic to Wired. I'm addicted to online news websites. I'm equally addicted to Merriam-Webster Online and Wikipedia. I keep word lists and subject lists to look up later. I'm an animal.

And to what end? I'm not sure, really. Information thrills me. It provides context. Challenge. I'm continually growing and adapting as I learn more about myself, the world, God. I have courage in my convictions. It's just a shame I didn't start earlier...

Monday musings-Thanksgiving edition

This week, ABC News and USA Today begin a series on "Young and in Debt." From what I heard, it really will be something worth checking out.
Here's info:

young and in debt

In turkey news, this will be the first Thanksgiving in a long time that I can actually enjoy the family fights and scary snarls without having to rush off to work. I've been practicing my loving insults towards Grandpa in the mirror every night for the past two weeks! Yay!

All this talk about fat is making me hungry...

I'm sitting here in my Communication Policy class on Tuesday. This class is a simulation, in which class members take on official roles, either in government or in the private interest. I am Rupert Murdoch (the irony is so delicious...)
Right now, we are discussing regulation on advertising for junk food. The argument being offered is that the government has a responsibility to provide standards on how much advertising is directed at children and how much impetus should the industry have in providing healthy choices.
It's all great, but it leaves me with the issue of responsibility: at what point does personal responsibility end and social responsibility begin? Is there overlap? Or does it matter?
If working in tandem, than all aspects of accountability can be covered. Kids can eat healthier because parents are providing more nutrition, as well as the school, while the messages being sent through advertising is lessened.
But it doesn't work in tandem, and that is the problem.
What does that have to do with the M.A.Y.A. Years? Probably not a whole lot, except for the reality that somewhere along these lines, M.A.Y.A.s should have an active role in personal AND social responsibility.

Supposedly. (Of course, I say this with a slice of Domino's pizza next to me, as well as some Coke. And I really am craving a Krispy Kreme donut right now. Delicious.)

Post-election nonsense

Linterella and I make a point not to talk specifically about politics on this blog because that is not the purpose.
Regardless of how you (the reader) voted, I think we have seen a great victory for our political process. And that is especially true in terms of M.A.Y.A.S.
Young people had the highest turnout in the past 20 years. It's also worth noting that nearly half of those that voted who are under the age of 30 are for troop withdrawl in Iraq. Of course, that means that almost half either aren't or whatever.
Anyways, here's the link:

young person turnout

In other related political stuff, thanks to whoever found the article on the abstinence program for twentysomethings. Here is the link if anyone didn't see it in the comments and is interested:

abstinence

Again, I don't want to go into political arguments and such, but I do want to ask this: Is this program necessary? I can understand some sort of pregnancy prevention for teenagers and those who are not in a position to support a child (or themselves). However, in a general sense, I would think someone in their 20s should have the comprehension of sex, pregnancy and responsibility. I understand there are extreme examples, but on the whole, if one doesn't understand sex (or had some sort of a sexual experience) by this point is beyond the purview of the government.

Plus, I really don't think the government should take a stance of sexual development...but that's politics.

And I thought the Star Wars defense system was goofy enough...

I read the Bush administration has allocated funds for an abstinence program for twentysomethings.

SERIOUSLY?!?

Does anyone know anything about this?

Would you like foam on your career change?

For the past four years or so, I have worked in the career path of my choice, more or less. I am a news junkie and love newspapers. It breaks my heart to see them go down the vicious circle of corporate crap, but in the end, there is nothing better than picking up the paper in the morning...and doing the Suduko puzzle.
For several reasons, I quit my job at the last paper in July. The main decision was to go get my master's full-time, combined with I was tired of working nights and weekends and especially tired of the bullshit going on at the paper.
Fast forward a few months, and I got a job working at a coffee shop. It's about 20 hours a week, the boss seems quite nice and it'll be fun to do while I'm finishing up my degree. Plus, I'm thinking about opening up a coffee shop one of these days, so it's great experience.

So how come part of me feels like I'm now an official loser?

I'm trying really hard to fight this "career" mindset. It's the path of life...go to school, get an education, get a wife (or husband/partner/whatever works for you) and get a career. Not a job, but a CAREER. Do that for 40 years, then retire.

This is your life.

I want to do some many things in my life, including working at a coffee shop. Honestly, I have always wanted to do that. I think it would be tons of fun.

So how come part of me feels like I'm now an official loser?

Instead of going upwards and onwards, I just dropped on the social ladder, slightly to the left of "customer service representative" and "whinny blogger."
Wait...eh, never mind.

I don't consider this a career change as I do a "the opportunity came and I have the time and I want to do it, so I'm doing it while I can, dammit!" move.

So come visit, but don't ask for free coffee. Only the girlfriend gets that privilege...now, to find a girl and a friend...

Getting in on the Monday Musings action.

That's right. I still live.

While I was out being an AWOL MAYA, I came across the following article about marriage. It stems from a Census statistic stating that married households are no longer the majority in America. But it's not that there's been a rise in divorce. Of the 37 million "unmarried, non-family households," an overwhelming 83 percent are actually roommates--single twentysomethings living with their friends. People like me! And, man, do we have A LOT of living to do before we finally get around to getting married. Read it or perish.

Has being married gone out of style?

Monday musings-Week of Oct. 23

My life feels like Jello: slowly solidifying, but still wobbly and with that goofy gellatin aftertaste to it.

I am pretty much set on school: if I quit, it'll have to be on conscientious objector status.

I might get a job at a coffee shop. Why? (That's sorta rhetorical, it beats market research, I keep telling myself.)

I might be getting a place with a friend.

I might, I might, I might...

I'm sitting at Young and Lazy enjoying the Jazz, and I'm reminded of the Jazz Vespers at All Saints I attended last night. The band was kick ass, and the message was really good.

Fans of Don Miller's "Blue Like Jazz" will appreciate this: part of the allure of Jazz music is that part of playing is trying to figure out which notes to play. There's this strong sense of being in improvisational Jazz: the notes being play work for that particular moment, in that particular place, in that particular venue and for that particular audience. If a wrong note is played, all the musicians do is play another note. Don't be diheartened or disillusioned, just play another note.

The minister said that Jazz is holy. I agree. There is definitely a spiritual tangent to Jazz music, the understanding that life is improvisation. When I feel like I'm completely, blindly, absurdly winging it, it is in those moments that I am truly living.

Jazz music also can bring about good sex, which brings me to this:

Brits need more lovin

They said don't live a life full of regret.

Monday musings (which happen to fall on Tuesday, I know)-Week of Oct. 17

Hey gang,
Four articles popped up on PopMatters.com, a Web site dedicated to all things pop culture. They are quite good, although a bit generic. But hey, what can you expect from Mainstream Media?
Check them out the articles on:

Job satisfaction

Family

Racial identity

Religion

I hope you enjoy them.
Also, I want to send a shout-out if see if there are any particular topics we should cover. Finances, relationships, what to do when you are in dire need to pee, only to find Dad taking his sweet time (maybe that's just me...). Anyhow, it there's anything that strikes your fancy, send a comment or write an e-mail. You'll be glad you did.

A world of possibility on Aisle 4...

I am in a grocery store.

I can tell you with near certainty that this is the correct store. I have complete confidence that it has everything I need.

I also find myself in the right section of the store. I'm in no need for frozen salmon, nor am I out of toilet paper. Whatever I need, it contains some sort of a dairy product.

As I peruse the section, I make a startling realization about what I am looking for: I am in the wrong aisle. I keep looking, searching, gawking, begging for what I am looking for to be in this aisle.

But alas, it is not here. For this reason, I feel frustration beyond belief. How can I be so close, yet so far away? How come the signs mention everything that is soap and soup, but yet not provide the "God's will in neon lights" that I'm looking for?

Even more simplistic, if I am in the wrong aisle, how the hell do I get to the right aisle? Time? Positive thinking? A new suit?

The Age of Unreason is fully upon us...

This passage comes from my consulting book, which is taken from Charles Handy's "The Age of Unreason."

"The status quo will no longer be the best way forward. The best way will be less comfortable and less easy but, no doubt, more interesting, a word we often use to signal an uncertain mix of danger and opportunity. ...While in Shaw's day, perhaps, most men and women were reasonable, we are now entering an Age of Unreason, when the future, in so many areas, is there to be shaped, by us and for us. ...for bold imaginings in private life as well as public, for thinking the unlikely and doing the unreasonable."

My old forensics coach had a sign on his door which said ADAPT OR DIE. No kidding.

I am of the belief that life is change. I am also of the belief that I have reached the limits of my reason. So, I need faith, apparently just enough of a mustard seed. It is funny that in our world, a little goes a long way. A little yeast, a little turn of the wheel, a little comment, or a little sparking smile. The emphasis on total and complete reason has left a lot of standing still. A little faith has created a lot of possibilities.

OK, back to studying.

Monday musings-Week of Oct. 9

Howdy party people!
I have discovered the coolest little coffee shop in North Long Beach (well, the coolest one until I start my own). Cafe Young and Lazy is small, yet comfy. The Organic coffee is rich and robust (hehe...I said robust...never mind) and most importantly, it's just me, so I get to hog all the WiFi. Hahahaha!
I am making another attempt at studying on this fine Monday. Lots and lots of projects are coming up, plus I have to decide what classes I want to take for the spring (and also decide if I want to return, but that's neither here nor there.)
I was fortunate to check out the Grand Ave. Festival in downtown L.A. this past Saturday. A free performance by Dakah, a hip-hop orchestra in the Disney Concert Hall (which is exceptionally cool), free admission to MOCA and lots of other goodies was highlighted by a free concert by Kinky. My friend Lys has sworn on their greatness since I first met her, so I was lucky to check out the goodness for myself. Frankly, they put on one hell of a show. Great energy, fantastic musical sound (even though the lead singer's mic wasn't on that much) and an overall superb time. I highly recommend their music if you see it at a local Tower Records (which is going out of business this week, so all CDs are 10% off.)

REDCAT (I forget what it stands for, but it's the CalArts Theater right near the Concert hall) showed a series of animated shorts by students and alumni. One short stood out for this musing's purposes.

A fisherman was trying to catch fish in a pond, and was coming up short. Across the lake, he sees a fellow fisherman using "cheese marshmallows: the next great American bait." Realizing the success the other dude is having, he rushes off and comes back with cheese marshmallows. Casting into the lake anticipating great success, he ends up reeling in a crab that is particularly crabby.
Undaunted, the fisherman sees another fellow using the "fishmaster 3000" a high-quality apparatus that gets fish, puts them in the cooler and leaves enough time to grill on the side. The other fisherman looked like Fred Flintstone, so surely he must be cool. So, our friend purchases one of these machines, and proceeds to get a whole lotta nothing.
Defeated and nearly flat (well, he is a cartoon), our hero sees a bear run into the lake, grab a bundle of fish with its bear (yes, that pun is intended) hands and takes dinner home to the family. So, the fisherman gets a bear costume, runs into the lake, scoops up, and discovers that in his possession is a large mermaid. Terrified, he drops her, only to quickly realize that she is what the French call a "hot mermaid" and she's got the hots for him. So they start macking out in the lake, as his cheese marshmallow and fishmaster buds run into the lake with their own bear costume.

The moral of the story: If you're in a bear costume in a lake trying to get some fish and you instead get a hot mermaid, you can officially consider yourself "a product of God's grace." Everyone else gets to say, "but for the grace of God go I..."

Monday musings-Week of Oct. 2

Greetings!
After a hectic week, I am back in full force, here to give you the lowdown on all things M.A.Y.A.
This article from the Columbus (Ohio) Dispatch came by my pseudo-desk yesterday dealing with how young professionals are buying houses at a younger age and with more desire for amenities. The appeal for urban lofts, spaciousness, swimming pools and movie stars make condos and other such properties a hot commodity. Check it out

here

This topic is important to me as my housing situation has just changed. In the course of about nine months or so, I went from a co-homeowner to living with the parents back home. Not in a million years did I think I would find my way back home. I did a quick lay-over of a few months at home after I moved back from Texas, sleeping on an air mattress in the living room. Now, I sorta have a room, and while the move is temporary, I have officially moved back into my parent's house again.
I have heard the numbers that more and more M.A.Y.A.s still live with their parents, and truthfully, who can blame them? Cheap rent, free food, and if the relationship with the parents is good, it's a great deal. That motif of stamping out into your own apartment is the first big step into adulthood isn't really the case anymore.
Then again, I still think it is. Granted, job salaries are not comparable to the rising cost-of-living, especially in L.A., but there's that sense that "striking it on your own" still takes a literal ideal.
But also, independence isn't a state of location, it's a state of mind. The same can be said of adulthood--you're only an adult in your head.
Like Linterella, I find myself in a precarious position. I have worked in the career of my choice for about 4 years, and even bought a house. I made it at 26.
Now, I quit my career, am in a graduate program that I'm still not sure if it's the right way to go, and I live with Mom and Dad again.
Well, at least my life isn't boring, or I don't have children to raise.
Or do I...I should check on that one.

Kissing off the King's Men...

This was an actual dialogue on Friday night.
I am at the movie theater, deciding between The Last Kiss and All the King's Men. I am Yours Truly (Y.U) and the box office dude (B.O.D.)

Y.U: So, what movie should I see tonight?
B.O.D.: What do you want to see?
Y.U.: I can't decide between the Last Kiss and All the King's Men. What do you think?
B.O.D.: Well, at this point of my life, I'm not in the right psychiatric state of mind for a relationship movie.
Y.U.: I hear ya, dude.
B.O.D.: Yeah, my girlfriend wanted me to see it, but now, she's no longer my girlfriend, so that's a no.
(A brief, yet profoundly awkward pause)
Y.U.: Yeah, girls suck.
(Another pause).
B.O.D.: Plus, I hear the overall message is nice, but a bit unrealistic.
Y.U.: OK, OK...I'll go for All the King's Men then.
B.O.D.: That'll be 8 bucks.
(As the exchange is being finalized, we both seem introspective and thoughtful).
Y.U.: Dude, chicks suck.
B.O.D.: No kidding.

By the way, All the Kings Men is OK, but if could have been a little more focused. Strangely, the message of All the King's Men was "chicks suck." also.
Sigh.

More musings

My friend Melody passed this on to me today. For those of you M.A.Y.A.s that have seen Garden State and The Last Kiss, do you think Zach Braff is the voice of our generation? Or do you just wish someone would crush his larynx? Such musings can be found in Josh Levin's article, "Why I hate Zach Braff," on Slate.

Go here.

Monday musings-Week of Sept. 25

Howdy folks!
This is going to be a lean musings. I'm moving this week, and Linterella is busy in her "real" job. This would be a good time to remind you, the young, fabulous and broke reader, that we are open to suggestions and postings. Feel free to contact either Linterella or myself.
This tells of Roadtrip Nation, a company dedicated to issues that affect young adults. They were the creators of "The Open Road," a documentary of a bunch of twentysomethings traveling all over this great country of ours, trying to get interviews with popular people on how to deal with life. I've seen parts of it, and what I saw was really good. Check out this feature on them:

here

Any minute now, my ship is coming in.

I think it's easy for people to assume that I've got it all together, especially when it comes to my career. Here I am, at 27, in the position I considered my "career goal" just months ago. I've made this somewhat miraculous professional ascent. I appear to be successful and driven. To have set goals and acheived them. To be at the top of my game, a rising star.

(Sigh.) But, I have to admit, I still have NO idea what I really want to do with my life. I'm walking this journalism path. I chose it. I've found satisfaction in it. But I'm frequently distracted by other desires of my heart.

In college, I had difficulty narrowing my interests to just two majors. I ultimately chose Art and Communication, but I could have easily studied (and loved) English, Film, Global Studies, Philosophy, Political Science, Sociology, or Theology. I think what Art and Communication offered was the opportunity to explore all areas of life within a defined medium: The subject matter and scope of my art and my writing was unlimited. Therefore I wasn't really limiting myself at all.

Likewise, I cannot accept that journalism is my sole career path. As soon as I got my foot in the door, I was thinking of the next adventure. Maybe I want to be an author, I thought. Or a script writer. Or get a graduate degree and teach. Or throw it all out the window and get a mindless, no-stress job that will allow me ample time to travel and serve those in need.

It's not about not wanting to work. It's me stuggling to reconcile what I do with what I believe. I have a desire to do something meaningful, and I'm not convinced that what I'm doing right now is meaningful to anyone. I sit in an office all day making sure the editors at my magazine meet their deadlines, routing pages through production, and running meetings. I think I'm good at the work, but I don't go to bed at night feeling like I've made a difference in the world.

Maybe I'm naive, but I want what I do to mean something to more than just myself.

Monday musings-Week of Sept. 18

Two articles came my way that might be of interest to you. They both deal with fiscal responsibility and talk about how the cultural ideals of being an adult=lots of cool stuff that you can't afford is causing a frugal undercurrent. The second article deals specifically on how government regulations and subsidies may be doing young adults more harm than good. I'm not sure if I agree with it or not, but it's worth a look. Happy reading.
Check them out:

here

and

here

Also, if you get a chance, get Yo La Tengo's "I am not afraid of you and I will beat your ass." It will kick your ass in all the right places.

That feeling you get when you're living...

I was catching up on emails tonight, and I was able to write back a professor from my undergrad days. He was the chair of the Communication Studies department, and is now retired to a cool place in the South. Him and I still have kept in touch after college. Every time I do one of my mass updates, I can guarantee on him writing back to say hello.
In writing him, I was taken back to college memories, my last semester in undergrad, to be exact. I was in his Interpersonal Communication (AKA the crying class), and for the most part, kinda cared and didn't care. I had mass senioritis, and mass fantasies of New York (which will be another entry at some point in the near future). But this professor always had a way at reaching me, especially when I didn't want to be reached.
One of the classes found an unsuspecting soul sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, looking at each of her/his peers. The person in the middle would then look at every person in the room as they made a statement about them, either in praise or in criticism: it didn't matter what was said, just as long as it was the truth. The receiver could do nothing but say thanks and move on to the next person.
Because of how long this exercise can take, not everyone was able to do it. But that wasn't in the cards for me.
Everyone was very kind in their words, and I knew they were sincere, for which I was--and still am--very grateful. At the end, it was the professor's turn. He had piercing blue eyes, and they were the eyes of a sage, someone who KNEW and someone who felt compelled to speak the truth. He looked at me and said, "Mike, you use anger and cynicism to hide your true feelings. You are afraid to feel."
My first instinct was to get pissed off, but luckily, I just sat there for a second.
It would take a while, long after I graduated, for me to realize the gravity of that moment. For the first time, truly possibly in my life, someone figured me out.
As I told my friend Laura, I believe every day is a life-changing experience, but there are those moments in time which ALTER you, rip off your skin, open up your rib cage and expose your heart and soul to the air of being. My time in Oxford, accepting the Texas job over the phone on a rainy December night and this moment changed me.
Those that know my personal upbringing know that I have a lot to be angry about. I had a problem controlling my temper when I was younger and would eventually learn to use humor and an easy nature to subside that rage within me. In many ways, it's still there: that primal, gut urge that all is screwed up, and there ain't a damn thing I can do about it.
But I learned from another professor that anger is a secondary emotion, that anger stems from and is fueled by deep pain and sorrow. And if you can't cry about it, you'll get angry about it.
I was told that when I got older, I would learn to control myself and the anger and pain would eventually go away, to forever lay in that state of numbness. I think most men are told that. Anger is tough for men, I think. It is drilled into us that anger should be the first response to pain, even feeling in general. Girls cry, men get angry.
What a crock of shit.
It's tough to be a human being today. I think everyone, both male and female, will agree on that assessment. In my opinion, women deal with stuff better than men. In the end, men don't deal because somewhere down the line, we forgot how to feel, and if we do feel, it's so private and so sequestered, it's almost suffocating.
I do realize that I express myself a little stronger than others. I'm OK with that, I put myself out there, so I accept the reactions and consequences that comes with that. But what I don't accept is those thoughts that creep up on me not to feel, not to express pain, not to feel lonely, or feel sad, or feel jubilant, or hopeful. Or most importantly, feel love. Because when that happens, I'm not living. I cannot afford not to live.
Besides, I know of one professor who will call me on it.

Would you like fries with your happy medium?

I have this memory of my mother and I talking about life way back when. I have a penchant for having a bit of a higher high and a lower low than some. Not in the "I need help" sense, but in the "Plunk would have been such a good thespian" sense. Something happened, and I was feeling pretty low about it (probably a her) and my mom was trying to console me. She told me that when I got older, I'll learn to have a happy medium. The highs won't be so high, and the lows won't be so low. Of course, that's when you live on Stability Lane.
Once the youthful angst fades and whenever the decision is made to be a bonafided adult, I think people make a choice to either be "happy" or "medium," but rarely both.

On another quasi-philosophical tangent, if both God and the devil are in the details, who is in the big picture?

OK, I need to go to bed.

Monday musings-Week of Sept. 11

Howdy readers!
I'm going to try and gather some stuff to read every Monday about the M.A.Y.A. Years or whatever is of interest. Thank you to those who have already taken a look at this site. If you have any ideas, give a shout.

1. I can't believe it's already been 5 years since 9/11. I was watching the 9/11 documentary on CBS last night with my dad, and even though I saw it 4 years ago, it still was disturbing. I was a senior in college when the towers fell. My roommate Jerry, who was an exchange student from South Korea, ran into our room saying, "New York is on fire!" But I thought he said "the house is on fire!" So as I ran out the door, I caught my other roomies looking at the TV.
I would think about my stepmom's relatives that lived in D.C., as well as Jeff and Melanie, family friends that were working at the Department of Commerce at the time. Fortunately, they weren't hurt, but it seems the degrees of separation between a friend and someone who died are too small. In fact, a little bit of all of us died that day...at least a little bit of me did.
I have saved a copy of the special edition of Time Magazine, plus the L.A. Times Commemorative Edition to show my children when they learn about the event in school. I hope to teach them the realities of ideas and ideologies; how the freedom and right to express-and live-an idea goes both ways. I hope my children understand the preciousness of life, and how fleeting it really is. And I hope they never forget that the opposite of faith isn't doubt, but rather fear and certainty. I hope I never forget that.

2. An op-ed piece by Meghan Daum in the L.A. Times that ran over the weekend was of great interest. Commenting on a study that found that fathers over the age of 40 were six times as likely to create autistic children as fathers under 30. This gets to the heart of the matter:

"The real lesson behind this study may not be much different from that old maxim about having a child, which is that there's never a right time to do it. Biologically speaking, we're probably best off reproducing in our early 20s, but the economic and social realities of the last 30 years or so have more or less conspired to make that a pretty bad idea. Unless you happen to be Reese Witherspoon, young parenthood often correlates with higher rates of poverty, not to mention disenfranchisement from the cultural phenomenon of child-as-middle-age-status-symbol. If "Mommy Wars"-type literary anthologies and blogs such as urbanbaby.com are any indication, parenthood is not for the young but for over-mortgaged elites who debate the merits of sign language for babies as though it were an international policy issue.

But what about the 30s? That's no time to have kids either, especially if you're a middle-class professional who feels compelled to put in 60 hours a week to gain the economic status increasingly necessary to support a family. In households in which both partners are working, changing diapers while trying to make law partner can quickly devolve into a situation resembling hell.

That leaves the 40s, which would be a fine time to start having kids if it weren't for the fact that many women can't get pregnant at that point at least not without the help of expensive reproductive technologies. Many men, of course, have been wise to this for years, often waiting until they're prosperous and middle-aged to begin having children with the kind of younger women who either don't want to make law partner or are willing to spend their husband's money on nannies while forging their own corporate ascents."

Here's the link to the article:

here

Enjoy and discuss!

Of Cell Phones And Sock Monkeys

I was in Los Angeles last weekend, helping my little brother move into his freshman dorm room at my alma mater. In the midst of orientation activities, trips to Wal-Mart, and helping arrange my brother’s new space just so, I met up with Plunk to hang out and talk about this M.A.Y.A. blog. The timing was kinda perfect.

I was in my brother’s shoes exactly nine years ago. I packed up all my can’t-live-without possessions (at the time, these included a talking Buzz Lightyear toy and every yearbook I’ve ever received), and I moved into a dorm room with two strangers six-and-a-half hours away from my parents, my hometown, and the only life I knew. It was exciting and a little scary. The overall sense during those first days and weeks was that I was on the brink of something big. And that bigness was adulthood.

Which kinda begs the question, during the years between then and now, did I ever actually become an adult?

After college graduation, I moved back in with my parents. I got an internship, then a job. I joined a church group. I moved out. I paid off my car. I started paying into a 401K. I got a promotion. But my cell phone is still on my parents’ family plan, I continue to sleep with a sock monkey, I’m still not sure about what career I want to pursue, and marriage is so far away I’ll be blind before I see it coming. In many ways, I am my 18-year-old self trapped in a 27-year-old body.

Plunk has coined the term M.A.Y.A. (middle-aged young adult.) That’s SO me. I’m still learning and growing, and I’m kind of liking the leisurely pace.

I hope you will enjoy reading about our thoughts and experiences…

First things first...

What is an adult?
Yeah, I know. It's an absolutely ridiculous question.
Or is it?

I want to get your thoughts on this question, but let me throw out this idea and see if it sticks:
Our society lacks a rite of passage--a clear point from childhood to adulthood. Because of this, the blurring of the lines between adolescence and adulthood are now creating individuals that are adult in a physical sense, but not in a societal sense. In essence, we have a generation that is stuck in the gap.

When I was growing up, I was told this is the path to my life...My time in junior high school (assuming I would survive it) would prepare me for my time in high school. My time in high school would then prepare me for my time in college. My time in college would then prepare me for a career and thus, the rest of my life. By the time college was over, I would be free to consider myself an adult.
I can say with a good amount of certainty that is how most of the majority of society that are "adults" view the linear line of life (oooh, alliteration...wow, college did help with something). Society views living as on a straight line; a life start at birth to adolescence to adulthood to old age to eventually death. Of course, there are deviations in the course of humanity, but for the most part, everyone's life follows this path.
And within this path are markers, points where one can point to her/his life and know what was going on at this point in time. High school graduation is a marker for the end of adolescence, as one is now an adult in the legal sense. Biologically, puberty is a marker for the beginning of adulthood, and the cracking voice serves as a daily reminder on the value of a good sense of humor to make it through life's woes.
Most of those markers have a rite of passage, some commemoration of the end of one life phase and the start of another. Graduation is one, growing a beard is another. Cultures have understood the value of rite of passages to mark the transition from one stage of living to another. A 13-year-old is considered a man or a woman upon the reading of the Torah in the Jewish tradition. Latino girls become women at their Quinceanera. Most Asian cultures recognize the same rite of passage.

In America, we have nothing of the sort. While some would say that college could be seen as that particular rite of passage, the reality is that college has become a stepping stone to the saga known as young adulthood, and the emphasis is on young, as in "I'm going to act like a child because this is time to party, as it's on the parent's and Uncle Sam's dime!" young. It really doesn't do the trick.

So, what are we left with? Well, for one, the M.A.Y.A. Years. More so, society is left with old children, hoping to never grow up.

Welcome!

Welcome to the M.A.Y.A. Years.
Whether you are in the M.A.Y.A. years, are about to embark in that next stage of life, or are our mothers, Linterella and I hope that you enjoy your Web stay at this humble abode. The powers that be behind this blog go way back...OK, we worked on the college newspaper. and have been in several journalistic positions since. Plunk has worked for newspapers in Texas and California, and currently is working on his masters in Southern California. Linterella is currently a NorCal magazine editor and is an overall bubbly individual.
We both find ourselves as middle-aged young adults, wondering what exactly that means and how that applies to our lives. The late 20s-early 30s can be quite the intriguing phase of life, whether one find his/herself married, single, just starting a career, still working on an education or sitting in front of the TV joining the millions trying to beat Super Mario Bros. Either way, the age-and the age we live in-provides unique challenges that both of us feel needs to be addressed, discussed, debated and eventually lived out.
So, dear reader, we intend for this to be a dialogue. We value, covet and wish for your input. Leave a comment, in fact, leave two, just because you want to. At some point, there will be opportunities for posting and contributing. Feel free to send us something. It will be edited for ambiguity and lack of clarity, of course (that's a joke, but do laugh anyways). But in the end, this may be some of the hardest times in one's life, or possibly the easiest. Either way, saying you're a M.A.Y.A. is pretty darn catchy (watch for the new fashion line in the Spring).