Make Someone Happy

Everyone has heard the saying, “if you love something, let it go.” There's some truth to that, but it implies an impossible choice. It also suggests that your beloved will return one day. As I've already observed, the person you know is gone. She won't come back. Not as you knew her. So, I have my version:

If you love someone enough, you want her (him) to be happy, even if you're not the one making her happy.

The person I loved the most in any relationship was Rachel. She was good to me. She was geeky, she was submissive, she brought out the absolute best in me. But after a year, things pretty much exploded in my face. She was, as I knew the whole time, mentally ill. I don't mean crazy, or developmentally disabled, but she had BPD, PTSD, and a host of other acronyms. I tried to fix her. It wasn't my job, I should have realized, to fix her. That was made all the more clear when I couldn't even fix myself.

For a time, I made her feel safe, and I made her feel happier than she ever did before, when things went bad for me, and I started taking it out on her, she left me.

The turning point, looking back, was when she came to me and said, “you made me realize I deserve to be happy, and I'm not happy.” That's a hell of a thing to hear. To be proud that you changed someone's life for the better, and at the same time, you're making it worse. As would later become a theme in my own life, the very things helping her were also holding her back. Mainly me. But also her mother, and whatever other things with SSI and things that weren't my business.

She didn't just leave me, she stood up to me. It hurt. But I came to realize later, it was the best thing she could do for herself. I'm proud of her for sticking up to me. And that's a hell of a thing to say. I want her to be happy. And I don't have to be the one making her happy. I had a very short email exchange with her mother, and I was surprised that I even got an answer at all. She's living on her own now, and she's happier than she's been in ten years. If you do the math, that also includes the year she spent with me. The longest she had been without being checked into a hospital was that year.

My actions, both right and wrong helped shape her. I helped make her the person she is now. I don't know if she's dating anyone else, but it really doesn't matter. She's happier with herself than she's ever been before. And that's what counts.

Don't think this sentiment applies only to one person. After Rachel, I dated Ariel. Great girl. Heart of gold. But I knew I was damaged goods when I first met her, and she accepted that. But, I left to go to Pennsylvania, in a failed attempt to start a new life, and she had a boyfriend when I came back to New York. But I was OK with that. Said relationship didn't go so smoothly, I understand, but I made it clear I would not sleep with someone in a monogamous relationship. Fast forward two years. She tells me she went to some kinky geek convention, and she either met, or went with some guy (I never did ask), who collared her, led her around by a leash, and made her his pet. She was so happy to be owned. And I was the one that got her involved in “the lifestyle.” I have to admit, I'm a little envious. But deep down, I'm happy for her. I'm happy that someone makes her happy, and it doesn't have to be me.

I could say the same thing about a few other ex-girlfriends, but they don't have as great stories behind them. But, I'll just say that I'm happy they're happy.

One of my best female friends today is Tiffany. She's in an open relationship, and as long as I've been good friends with her, she's been owned. Her Master though, his shit is all apart. He doesn't have a high paying job; he doesn't live alone. He is very guarded emotionally. He wants to get his shit together, he wants to give Tiffany the privacy, the love, the best life that he can give her, but he just can't. Something is holding him back. Maybe it's a lack of ambition, maybe it's a lack of opportunity coming his way, maybe he can't admit to himself how much he loves her--they've both been hurt in the past. But believe me when I say: I'm rooting for the guy.

Tiffany and I have had so many talks about him. About how he can't make up his mind. How he doesn't have an answer for all her questions. How he keeps her at a distance by only texting and emailing her, and literally not giving her his phone number. I see so much of myself in him. He's the Ghost of Christmas Past. He's who I was, and I don't want to see him make the same mistakes I did. But unlike me, he's insecure, and doesn't like when I see Tiffany, and he'd never listen to me if somehow I got the chance.

I value my friendship with Tiffany. She trusts me to do things to her that she wouldn't trust anyone else to, except for her Master. In our own way, I love her and she loves me. But I've asked her, “am I more important to you than him?” And she told me I'm not, which makes me feel better. I don't want to be a “stand-in” for her Master. I want her to value me for me, and I feel the same way about her. I tell her over and over again, that I don't want to push him aside to make room for myself. I want him to be the one that makes her happy, because when he does make her happy, she's never been happier. But, it looks like he's just pushing her away. So, I tell her to do right by herself. Not for me. For her.

I guess that's the strange thing for me. I don't tend to get jealous much. I could not know someone that well, and be a little upset that it's not me that's with her, but I don't know the whole story. The better I know someone, the better I know if I'm right for them. And the more I care about someone, the more I don't need to be the one caring for them. Even my own mother, after Dad left, she leaned on me, and leaned on me hard. I was her rock. I was the person she turned to. I held her up. I encouraged her to get back in the dating pool, I used my wealth of experience picking up girls online to show her how to optimize her profile, and what to expect from the men she dated. (As in, most of them will be lame, but you'll learn to filter them out with experience.) It took a while, but, for now, she's found someone who makes her very happy. And that makes me happy.

Appreciate who you have become.

I was going to title this chapter “appreciate what you have.” As trite, and cliché as that saying may be, it's cliché because it's also true. You should appreciate what you have, whether those are your possessions, the people who love you, or even appreciating the night sky or a sunny day. But ultimately, those things, especially your material possessions, are accessories. They are nice to have, they brighten your day, but, in the end, they can be taken away from you. What can't be taken away from you, is you. 

Which brings me to the more important point: You have struggled every day to become the person you are today. That awkward, uncoordinated, clueless person in school, well that's not you anymore, and you don't owe him anything. The person you answer to you is not “past you” it's “present you.” You should appreciate the person you are, the person you've become, and you only need to hang on to the person you once were as much as you need to remember directions to a place you've already been to. Every part of your past that you hold on to, holds you back.

Every failure is also a learning opportunity. Every failure made you better, and every success proved that you did the work necessary to achieve that success. The one thing that no one can take from you is what you give yourself. That is you. You. Call it a soul, call it a conscious, call it the sum of neurons in your brain remembering past experiences and having the ability to predict future events based on present information. But whatever you call it, it is that voice in your head that knows better than the other voices in your head. It's that angel on your one shoulder. It's your best self. So ask yourself, will I be making my best self proud? Even when things don't go your way, ask yourself, what can you do to become better for it? Don't worry about blame, there's plenty of it to go around. Focus on yourself. And, take note of how your failures now are better than the failures in the past.

The fact is, there will always be problems, and you will always get used to whatever level of success you have, be it financial, personal, or even how fit or famous you are. Appreciate what you have been through. Appreciate the struggles, the failures, the pain, the gain, the rush of success. That has made you who you are. Don't define yourself by who you once were, and while goals are good, don't define yourself as the person you wish you were either. You are somewhere in between, and there's nothing wrong with that. 

The Long Run Hasn't Happened Yet

Go though any major change in your life, good or bad—a breakup, losing a job, being behind in the rent, getting injured, going on a diet, quitting smoking-- you will hear this advice, maybe say it yourself: “In the long run, it's for the best.” Or, “At the end of the day, you'll be better off.” Or some variation of that. Well, ask me in five years how I'm doing. The long run hasn't happened yet.

Here's the cold hard truth: You will not see big gains right away. You may feel a little bit better at first, but that will wear off very quickly. Then, the pain starts. You have to put down the ice cream or the cigarettes; you have to get up before the sun to do your morning run; Money problems, loneliness, heartbreak, the list goes on. You will have to be patient. And patient means not getting what you set out to get, until one day, you wake up and you already have it, you already did it, or the power is inside you, and you wonder if it was there the whole time.

I think Mad Magazine summed it up perfectly in its spoof of The Empire Strikes Back. Yoda, in this version, says to Luke, “The first thing you must learn is patience.” Luke responds, “Patience? I've got plenty of patience! What's the second thing!”

So whatever you set out to do, or whatever burden is on your shoulders, sometimes you have no choice but to wait until you get used to it. The only way out is through.

Let's give a few specific examples before moving on to general points.

Break up: You will continue to miss the person, long after you're “over it.” That person may not be the person you fell in love with anymore, but missing that memory will haunt you for years if you let it. You have memories, you have chemicals flooding your brain. It hurts. And you have to somehow pick yourself up and deal with normal life, and some how put it behind you and find someone else...when you're ready. As bad as you feel, the world won't stop so you can get your shit together. You have to simply acknowledge those feelings, those chemicals, and get used to how they feel. Those missing pieces, those memories, will never fully go away. But you will get used to that pain. And when you get used to that pain, it doesn't affect you as much. As you get used to new experiences, new memories will form, pushing out the old ones to the back of your mind. But remember, just because a relationship doesn't last as long as you expected, it doesn't invalidate the time you had together. It doesn't invalidate the discoveries you made about yourself, the person you became because of their actions (both good and bad--this is your journey, after all). What you choose to do with who you are now is up to you. Maybe you'll never fill that hole in your heart that is shaped like the person you loved. But, the only way to make it up to yourself is to be better with the next person you choose to be with. When you're ready. It won't happen tomorrow. Sorry.

Job Loss: You don't just lose money. You lose the future that came with the job. You will be angry at how well you did that job, and wonder if there will be any other job that so matches your skills. You will be used to the atmosphere of that job, whether it's suit-and-tie or Hawaiian Shirts and sandals. You will miss the people there. You will see the money in your account stop going up, and start going down. You will learn, over time, to better balance your budget, be it buying house-brand shampoo, giving up Lattes in favor of home-brewed coffee, cutting out HBO, and so on. Looking for new jobs is a complete pain in the ass. You will feel squeezed by younger people who made their career decisions earlier in life; you will feel squeezed by people with more experience than you, even former management players, looking for the same positions you are. They are your competition, and they are, in a way, imaginary. Your biggest competition is yourself. You simply have to put yourself out there. Finding a job is a full time job. With shitty benefits. And a long lunch break. Whether the HR person reading your cover letter and resume will spend five seconds skimming your letter, or give it Talmudic study, you will never know. But you have to put yourself out there. You have to put your all into every chance you have, and, paradoxically, let it go as soon as you've sent it, because rejection, or complete disregard, is almost a certainty. And you will have to wait. No matter how much effort you put in, whether you selectively choose the jobs that are perfect for you, or crop dust the job market, sending out thirty resumes every single day, five days (six? Seven?) a week, you will have to wait. And wait. And one day, you'll get that call. For an interview. That's only the second step. And your reward for all this work is, of course, to get up early, drive or catch a train somewhere, and work your ass off 40 hours a week. At least you get paid for it.

Quitting smoking: A teacher of mine once told me a story. He had smoked as a teenager, and long since quit. He hadn't had a smoke in over fifteen years. One day, he was visiting where he grew up, and he found himself leaning against a certain wall, craving a cigarette. He really took notice of that feeling, and how strange it was, that here he was, after all these years, he just had it ingrained in his head that that place was associated with having a cigarette. I've also known people who smoke only when they drink. During the week, they don't smoke, but when they go out and drink, they smoke. When they try to quit smoking entirely, they have to cut back on their drinking, too. When you're a smoker, the entire ritual is a habit. It's a coping mechanism. When you are stressed, you have a smoke: despite the long-term damage to your lungs, it's soothing to take that deep breath and feel the hot smoke in your lungs. You step outside, take yourself out of the situation, and give yourself time to think the problem, whatever it is, over. The cigarette ritual, if you took out the cigarettes themselves, are a perfectly healthy way to deal with stress. But, once that habit is ingrained, it's pretty much set. Think about this, what do you do with your hands, or what do you stuff in your mouth, when you get stressed or fidgety?How do you make friends if you can't go up to someone and say “hey, got a light?” Oh, and that's not even mentioning the nicotine addiction.

Whether you are injured, arrested, or betrayed, whether you learn an instrument, try to turn a hobby into a money-making venture, move to a new town, any change, good or bad, is simply a question of waiting until you notice the change has happened. And of course, there's no guarantee it will work. The long run never happens. Until it already did.

The Truth Hurts. Lying Hurts More

Trust is not something you can put on a shelf and forget about. It's not something you can steal, but it is something you can lose. It can be broken, and it can be repaired, but never be the way it was. Trust is a verb. It is something you do. Treat it like something you do, not something you have.

When you betray someone's trust in you, it also affects them in ways you won't know. She'll doubt herself, blame herself for what she did or didn't do, and hate herself for opening up and trusting you in the first place.

I can't tell you the right way to break up with someone, but I can tell you the wrong way. Don't try to “game the system,” because there is no system, and what you call “the system” is made up of people. And I'm pretty sure it's made up of people you say you care about.

Don't try to schedule a breakup before or after a birthday, anniversary, or holiday (Christmas and Valentine's Day come to mind) because you want to receive, or, avoid giving some gift or physical favor. Just don't schedule it at all. A good relationship should have a continually-evolving, multi-dimensional, omni-directional open system of communication. This doesn't mean be an asshole and say every bad thing about your partner that comes to mind. But when your racing thoughts about your partner are keeping you up at night, it's time to open your mouth and start talking. Don't make a plan B, don't pack your escape pod, and don't even think “it's better to ask forgiveness than permission.” Be kind, be aware, and be open. Just tell the truth, and work it out. And if you can't work it out, then leave with your head held high.

Don't make any subtle hints that you're unhappy with your partner. Come out and say them. If you're going to a strip club, say you're going to a strip club. If you want to try out some crazy kink and don't know how she'll react? Don't just leave your web site history open, what should be open is your mouth. Whatever “it” is, don't fake “it.” Don't roll your eyes, or make little breaths and sighs. Don't go through the motions with a thousand yard stare on your face. If it's done, then it's done. But it takes two people to start a relationship, and it should take two people, not just one, to end one.

Don't drop any bombshells. If you're moving, maybe graduating college or something like that, you don't just assume it'll be over, or assume it'll keep going. You gotta have that talk. You gotta set rules, and if the rules aren't working, don't break them, revise them. Don't start having an affair. There is no fifty-mile rule. No, it won't stay in Vegas. Don't take advantage of the trust your partner has in you. Don't just say you're leaving, grab your laptop and make a run for the door. Or, for that matter, don't just ignore her and hope she goes away.

When you're with someone for a long period of time, or an important period of time, you may find your identity through her. You may find that she validates you in a way you never thought possible. And it can all go away. So if that happens, where does the identity go? What happens to that validation? In a way, you put part of yourself in her, and she puts part of herself in you. You have to treat that part of yourself very gently. It's true that the truth hurts, but hiding the truth will only make it worse.  

Surgical Shopping

I've come to learn a bit about “Extreme Couponing.” While there is no question that there is a certain satisfaction to buying $600 worth of groceries for $50, what they do is really the most extreme example of “a penny saved is a penny earned.” They essentially have their own business where they “make negative money,” working hard to save.

I'm not saying this is wrong, but when you think about it, if you spend ten, twenty, thirty hours a week on a part time job, say, babysitting, dog walking, envelope stuffing, and get $300 or $500 for it, no one raises an eyebrow. All they are doing is spending a lot of time cutting coupons. To really understand the value of what they are doing, consider the two sides of the spectrum of convenience and savings. One one extreme, you want a bottle of Pepsi, you need it in the next ten minutes. You go down to 7-11, wait on a short line, pay two dollars, and go back home. You have what you wanted, and it cost you ten minutes. On the other extreme, maybe you'll get some coupons, you'll save up rewards points, you'll wait for the right sale date, and you'll end up with ten two-liter bottles for the same two dollars. Not bad, I guess, but you have to find what works for you.

Consider the hidden costs of all these savings: There is the cost of real estate (usually their basement, but sometimes all over their house—note that we rarely see people with small apartments with a giant pile of toilet paper rolls), the cost in actual money of subscribing to several newspapers (about $20 or so a week, which they make up for in savings, but they'll scoff at paying wholesale club membership fees), and, most notably, the cost in time of clipping all those coupons, reviewing when the sales are, going to the store in a mindset usually reserved for Olympic training, then the time spent at the register, and adding to their horde of grocery items. Again, I don't want to sound dismissive; I admire these people. But, don't think what they do is easy, or something you can just pick up once you see it on television. It takes time, and it takes work. I'd also want to add that they walk the fine line between being practical (saving money) and being impractical (having more food than you know what to do with), and they walk the line between being proud of their ability to save money, with having external validation from a big pile of stuff.

But there is a balance. You certainly can learn a lot from them, even if you don't adhere to all their methods. I like the term “surgical shopping.” You do have to make a commitment to yourself to buy for price, not need. Take some time to clip coupons, but then wait on them. Wait for a good sale. If you get circulars from three different stores, you'll notice that most of the same items are on sale at all the stores, and one will usually have a better deal than the others. For example, at the same week, two stores may have pasta on sale, one is four for $5, the other is 88 cents each, limit of four. Which one sounds like a better deal to you? It's also a good idea, if there's a good sale, to just Google the item and add the word “coupons,” there may be something from the manufacturer's site. From there, print out some coupons, make more than one trip (even if you just turn around from the parking lot, that counts as a trip), and use different coupons for different trips; sometimes you'll get what's called a “catalina,” which is the coupon you get at the checkout for your next trip.

Here's a similar technique: I call it “buy big or stay home.” Now, this is going to take some time and space to set up, and it's somewhere in the middle of the spectrum of convenience and savings. It does take some startup cost and money, but it doesn't require a horde either. Get a wholesale club membership. Trust me, it'll pay for itself in milk and eggs alone. Then get to work taking notes on the most common items you buy, what they cost, how much you get, then do the math and determine the cost per unit. Then, compare to other places. You might want to consider the store brand of your favorite grocery store or drug store, even better if there's a coupon. Amazon has their own version of a bulk club called “subscribe and save.” Pick your favorite brands, experiment a little, don't ever have too much store or brand loyalty.

Don't forget, there are popular web sites dedicated to extreme couponing. At the very least, check them out, and print coupons you think you'll use. They'll toss around terms like “BOGO” and “Stack,” and while it doesn't hurt to learn these terms, don't get thrown by the fact that the audience for these web sites are experiences “couponers,” who will casually rattle off that you can get this or that item for four cents if you doublestack an MFR right before the EXP. Trust me, you sound exactly the same when you talk about the Heisenberg Compensators that make transporting possible.

So, quick takeaway: time is money.

Don't Let Your Natural Abilities Preclude Your Determination To Work Hard

I was once talking to someone. She said she wasn't all that smart, she just worked really hard. I disagree with that statement, I think she was very smart, but, many people who are very smart don't see themselves that way. (Comedian Joe Rogan is like that.) I think I had the opposite situation. I was naturally smart, but didn't push myself. I don't know what she's done with her life, but I'm guessing she's done better than me. I tried to find her on Linked-In, and while I can't say for sure, it looked like someone who spells her name the same way she did is married and is the director of a home and center for autistic children. As I said, I can't be sure it's the same person, but I think I can take a wild guess that her hard work paid off a lot more than my natural abilities.

I consider rapper Lil' Jon to be the world's smartest idiot. I say this because not only does his lyrical content rarely stray from the well-tread subjects of having lots of money, how attractive women's behinds are, and the positive correlation of a man's virility to his expensive and fast car, but the words he chooses are practically monosyllabic (a word I doubt Lil' Jon can even pronounce, let alone spell). Yet, he's a millionaire. He's on the cover of tons of music magazines. All by using phrases like “Yeahh!!!” “get crunk” and “Yeeeeeeaaaaahhhhh!” You simply cannot parody the man. He's already at that level. T-Pain, similarly, has his distinctive robotic auto-tune sound from the simple fact that he's a terrible singer. If he were a better singer, he wouldn't need the auto-tune, or at least it wouldn't be as pronounced. So, by doubling down on his lack of talent, he worked hard, and became an international star.

How did they do it? I haven't the slightest fucking clue.

It's easy to just coast by on whatever you have going for you. But build a better mousetrap, and the world won't just knock down your door and throw bags full of money at you. When you get right down to it, talent barely factors into it. Look at Paris Hilton, Charlie Sheen, or George W. Bush; sure they “won the genetic lottery” by having very successful parents, but, the difference between a Sheen and an Estevez is self-promotion.

Sarah Palin has this Akido technnique of turning every legitimate criticism of her intelligence, her ability to actually govern, or her support of abstinence education, (just to name a few) into an attack on her, which she then deflects onto the “Lame stream media,” the same people who made her into a household name in the first place. I have no fucking clue how she does it, how she gets away with it, or how she sleeps at night, but she did it, and I didn't, so who's really fucking smart? But she became successful through sheer force of will and self-promotion.

I've heard it said that the ultimate knowledge is knowing how you know nothing. That may be true, but I've found there are many dimensions of intelligence: book smarts, street smarts, being able to read people, being able to memorize words, knowing proper grammar and spelling, being able to fix a computer, customer service skills, being able to multi-task or uni-task, solving a Rubik's Cube, being able to hang on to useless bits of trivia (Did you know that the Rubik's Cube was invented by Enos Rubik?), puzzle solving, chess playing, I could go on for days, but, fair or not, the intelligence in real life that matters most is the kind they don't reward you for in school, and you'll never get a definitive grade on it. So accept the fact that everyone is below average at some things, above average at other things, and average at most things. On average.  

Would it Break Your Heart if I Left You?

“Would it break your heart if I left you?”

Ballsy question. “Would it break your heart if I left you?” Not “would you miss me when I’m gone,” not “do you love me,” not “do you love me the way I am?” not “does my ass look fat in these jeans?”

This is an absolutely straightforward question. If you’re unsure about a relationship, you can scheme, you can talk to your friends, you can get advice, but if your relationship is on the rocks, or you’re unsure, it’s a simple, bulletproof, yes or no question.

Ask it. But only ask it if you're not afraid of the answer.

The Bear in Your Tent

Before I even get started, this essay will probably warp your mind. Not because it's such a new, mind-blowing concept, but because I have a hard enough time understanding it myself. This will be full of paradoxes, self-contradictions, and catch-22s. And when I have it all figured it all out, I'll let you know my progress.

I picked up a saying from Merlin Mann, and I've started using it: “Fear is knowing there's a bear outside your tent, anxiety is not knowing if there's a bear outside your tent.” I've come realize, also, that fear may trigger a fight-or-flight response, but anxiety is more likely to paralyze you. The root of anxiety, ironically, is comfort: We have, and therefore we are afraid to lose what we have. Fear motivates, anxiety does not.

As I write this, Hurricane Irene is on its way to decimate the East Coast. I have taken in all the patio furniture. I have hooked up an uninterpretable power supply to my refrigerator, and even put in two frozen bottles of water to provide a little emergency cold if needed. And now... I wait. Aside from a light drizzle, it's pretty dry out there. No heavy winds yet, no thunder, nothing. There is nothing I can do at this moment to make the damage more or less severe, because it hasn't happened yet.

At this moment, I face being broke, my unemployment has run out, the place I live in is perpetually on the verge of being sold, so the threat of being “homeless” (which realistically entails moving in with with another family member, not actually living on the street) hovers above me like the sword of Damocles. I face criminal charges that could land me in jail, or at least leave me with a record, which, of course, makes it that much harder to find a job and a place. I need to further my education, see my therapist, take expensive pills, and try to plan for the future, while the very foundation I need to lay is collapsing under me.

And what can I do about it?

Nothing. Nothing more, and nothing less than I've already been doing. I can't change the situation I'm already in. I can't blame my past self, or my parents, or the President, or whoever. I can't change what I've done, I can't change the job market, there are so many avenues to look for jobs, and for every low-end ice cream scooping job out there, there are a hundred people ahead of me who are desperate to do anything, scooped ice cream in high school, or even both. There is one, and only one factor to which I have complete control: my own mind. I have learned that when you have this little control over a situation, the only way to take control is to let go.

Note that I didn't say “give up.” I said “let go.”

Giving up would be to stop looking, to stop seeing my therapist, to stop talking to my lawyer, to stop being, or at least trying, to be a good person at heart. But there comes a point when your heart starts beating faster, and your thoughts start racing, and you don't have anyone you can turn to....take a deep breath, and stay in the present moment. If you imagine a future full of pain and hopelessness, you're making the present painful and hopeless. If you dwell on your past mistakes without being able, at that moment, to fix them, you're just living with regret. So the only thing I can do is focus on this moment.

For the moment, at least, I have a roof over my head, and I won't be homeless on the street, I'll be on my brother's couch. I don't know how severe the legal punishment will be, and as irrational and unfair as the system as a whole can be, I can't change it.

So faced with this hopelessness, what can I do? Well, for one, I started this blog. I've been on a tear, applying to a dozen jobs a day, and writing essays in between. I go to bed and wake up earlier...or at least find fewer reasons to stay up. There have been plenty of times when just when I think things can't get worse, they do, and I could yell, and scream, or cry, or panic, or just hide under my bed. But those problems are still out there. Somewhere. So the only thing I can do is go outside my tent and face that bear. That is...if the bear is really out there.

Gambling With Your Time

Lately, I've been spending a lot of time among the ranks of the unemployed. That means sending out a number of job applications. I've come to realize that every job application is a gamble: it's a gamble of my time. In addition to the time I spend looking up potential jobs, and narrowing down whether I think I can do that job, then it's on to the cover letter itself. I can decide whether to personalize every cover letter, even make a different resume for each job, which can take, say, a half an hour, or I can send out my stock cover letter and my regular resume, and pretty much have it sent out in under a minute. I will have no way of knowing whether the HR person will look over my resume and cover letter with a microscope, Googling names of various companies I've worked for, looking over my resume for any typos or inconsistencies, or whether I'll get a five second skim—maybe the whole thing will get scanned by a computer looking for keywords and it will never even reach the eyes of a real human being. It's a black box. But, I have to take that gamble, and, like most gambles, the house has the edge. In this case, the “house” is the hundreds, maybe thousands, of applicants that are just as qualified as me, that I have to stand out from, but somehow without standing out so much that it makes me look rude or unqualified, all this to reach an HR person who can give me a chance at an interview. My “chips” are my own time.

When you get right down to it, we make these kinds of decisions every day, at almost everything. Which road do I take from point a to point b? Will there be traffic? Will there be a toll? And so on. One time, I looked at my GPS, and decided the difference between taking the New Jersey Turnpike to the GW Bridge, and with it, a ten dollar toll, and the Tappan Zee Bridge, with a four dollar toll, was about fifteen minutes. I decided fifteen minutes was worth that much to me. I ended up hitting a deer and destroying my car. Looks that was a bad gamble.

Any date is a gamble, and relationship is a gamble that the love you get out of that relationship is worth the time you put into it.

If you enjoy playing video games, maybe that's a good way to spend your time, and you'll get better at playing them. You'll kick ass on multiplayer, or online, but...would that time have been spent better writing the Great American Novel? Who knows. I've come to find out that some of the same things that I thought were, if not a waste of time, then at least a glorified hobby—Facebook, MySpace, the newest music trends, video games—turned out, might have helped me get a job.

You can spend your time learning to play an instrument, and get to be a great player. If you never play in a band, or if you do play in a band, and never get a record deal, or, if you do record an album, and it never goes anywhere near the radio or the top downloads, have you wasted your time, or have you spent it well, enjoying the pursuit itself?

Someone once told me that, in high school, he wanted to hit the gym hard, and have a great body. Like, a monstrous, 80's action hero body. But, paradoxically, he was depressed and suicidal. He wondered if it was worth the investment of his own time to have that great body if he was just going to be dead in a year. He's still around, but his body is, in a word, average. I'm glad he decided not to take his own life, but, part of me wonders, if he had decided to go for that body, would the endorphins, the look in the mirror, maybe even the extra attention, change his mind, and his mindset? We'll never know. He never anted up in that department. Such is the paradox of depression.

I think sometimes of certain artists....Cobain, Hendrix, Joplin, Hendrix; by the time they were 27 years old, they changed the world, and died. I'm four years past that, and I haven't even come close. So far, I haven't even so much as signed a lease or mortgage, gotten married, or had a child. I did get on TV once, though. Not that it was about me, but I did get on TV.

And I did get published in a book. That's not so bad, either.

The Litmus Test of a Relationship

Hopefully, you learn from your failures. I'll start this story with a failure. My girlfriend at the time, Nicole, was having a night out with the girls. She called me at some point in the evening, and I could tell she was already good and sloshed. I suggested to her that she slow down, but she instead continued to drink...so much that she was taken to a hospital after stumbling down a flight of stairs.

A few things to keep in mind:

I was in Westchester, she was in the city. It was about three in the morning when I got the call. Her friends had to go to work or something, so they just bailed on her and expected me to pick up the pieces. I drove out as fast as I could to the hospital, but what I was supposed to do there wasn't exactly clear. I didn't bring a change of clothes, a book, an ipod, or anything. In fact, I remember that I parked legally, but did a shitty job, and was way out on the curb. I wasn't sure what to expect, or what was expected of me. That's important to keep in mind.

So, I came in to see her, she reeked of vomit, she looked like hell, and the damage has been done. So.... now what? Well, I talk to the intake nurse, give her what little info I have on her. At that point it begins to dawn on me that even though I've seen her take tons of pills, and I know some of her physical handicaps, I don't know the names of any of her medications. So, I'm not much help. Once I've done that, I ask the nurse what I should do. There's really nothing I can do to help her at this point, and I've never been very good at just waiting around with no clue how long I'll be waiting, so I decide to go home. Did I make the right choice? I don't know, but it was 4:00 AM, I was dead tired, and I got the impression from the nurse that she'd be sedated for hours.

Then comes the call. Nicole woke up around 7:00 AM, and, as you can imagine, she was scared and angry. She had woken up in a hospital, no one was there for her, she was blackout drunk, and didn't even remember how she got there. Again, I drove as fast as I could to the hospital, but, as I said...the damage had been done.

Let's review the two big lessons here.

First, I've since learned to be prepared. You'll usually find me carrying a backpack, and, depending on the particular day, and time of year, you may find my iPod, a book, a lightweight flannel shirt, maybe some sunblock, eye drops, nasal spray, sunglasses, sometimes a flashlight. Now this may sound like overkill, but anytime the weather got cold and dark, I had my flashlight and shirt.

In this case, it would have helped to have a nice fresh shirt, and, noting how much smaller Nicole was than me, a pair of pajama pants. Maybe if I had a little advance warning, I could have brought that. Hey, maybe even a pillow, or at least a hooded sweatshirt that could be folded up and used as a pillow.

But the real lesson is the mentality. How long you stay with someone in the hospital is a gauge of how seriously you take a relationship. This applies not just to romantic relationships, but any relationship; family, friend, maybe even someone from work. Depending on how serious you are, you might pop in for a few minutes to say hi to someone you know casually, or might stay the whole night, or as stay for as many visiting hours as you can.

Despite my supposed feelings toward Nicole, and how seriously I took her as a girlfriend, when the time came to act, I failed, and failed big. I think part of it was the simple idea that I was supposed to just know, automatically, what I was supposed to do. It's also worth keeping in mind that you can drop everything and go somewhere, or you can gather some belongings, but you can't do both.

Fast forward several years. My mom, just weeks after having major surgery to remove cancers from her stomach, was in agony, an we called an ambulance. My mom was awake, and did tell me to meet her at the hospital with some pairs of underwear and a tee shirt or two. I had the luxury, if you can call it that, of being able to take a deep breath, collect my head and her belongings, and drive to the hospital at a reasonable pace. I stayed with her till one in the morning, when she said it was OK for me to go home. And I visited her almost every day. Looks like I learned something.

Why I Will Never Get A Tattoo.

Why I will never get a tattoo

I have a set of wire shelves. I bought them to hold my growing collection of tee shirts. After I bought them, I figured out that one day, these shelves would make a handy pantry, if I had an empty closet to put them in, which is exactly what happened when I moved into the new house. It occurred to me that these same wire shelves would also be handy for hanging my pots and pans, which is something I wanted to do since I bought them. I might even be able to put food and other items on the shelves, and still have them arranged in such a way that I could hang the pans on the side. Hanging seemed so much nicer than putting them away in the cupboards. My mom, of course, disagreed with that point, and, since it was her kitchen, my cookware would be put away, stacked, sometimes neatly, but usually not, out of sight.

Mom has since moved out, and I'm still here. I've had the place to myself for more than a few weeks, and it dawned on me: This is my kitchen now! I don't have to keep banging my expensive pans on the little door, I can get my wire shelf out of the closet and put it up in the kitchen the way I always imagined. Now, here's where the fun begins.

I set up the wire shelves. I told myself, it was just a proof of concept, that for when I had my own apartment, I could really get it perfect, but for now, I just needed to make sure the pans would fit at all, and I would worry about where each shelf would fit later, as long as I got the general idea. Good enough was good enough. That sentiment lasted...less than a week.

So, with the concept “proven,” I then “measured twice” and “cut once,” breaking down the wire shelves and starting from scratch. This time, I knew what notch to fit each shelf in, to use the absolute bottom row, not just one near it, I figured out exactly how I would set up my pans: Three in each level, two levels; the lower level with the larger pans, the higher level with the smaller pans. I had the shelves set up in such a way that the pans I used the most were the easiest to reach. I set up the top levels to store some food, and, compared to the way I had it before, I had a whole extra shelf. I was set.

I think you can guess where this one's going.

So, the bottom two shelves, they're perfect, but I think that third shelf, where I've got some cans and a big box of candy, well, if anything, it's got too much headroom. And, the other shelf where I've got the soda bottles on their sides, that's probably the right size, but, that top shelf, well...right now, it's got some aluminum foil, and ziploc bags, and I might be able to squeeze in one extra shelf; but even if I didn't, if I can get those bags three inches lower, well, that's the difference between stretching up on my toes, and simply reaching up to get them. Once I find time to do that, I will be set.

Unless...well, unless something else happens, whatever that something is. Some day, I may buy more pans, have a bigger kitchen, who knows? But, it is this constant desire to tweak and switch, and experiment and push the boundaries until I reach some imaginary level of perfection and completeness that makes me the consummate geek.

I get it. There is something magical about getting the thing you want. I used to hate my bed, and I always wanted a memory foam mattress—not just the topper, though that would do, but the full mattress. When my mom threw out the topper when we moved, I gave her hell for it. And I let it simmer and boil until I finally made the bold move and bought a full memory foam mattress. It was partly luck, and partly obsession, that I was on Craig's List at the right time that someone was selling a full mattress for a price I could afford. Stop by Ikea on the way home for some slats (memory foam doesn't go on a coil foundation), and I'm set. But, that didn't stop me from taking a look at larger memory foam mattresses. You know, for one day. Maybe when I have some girlfriend or wife move in. But not any time soon.

But really, is anything ever really done? When you get right down to it, there's always a new computer (Ooh! Solid state drives!) , a new set of pans (Ooh! Induction!), a new everything. I wonder sometimes if I tried to tweak my ex-girlfriend the same way, trying to imagine her in better shape, and I mean both mentally and physically. She's my ex, maybe it worked. I made her too good. Or, maybe it didn't work, and I was being an asshole who was always unhappy with her.

That simultaneous happiness and unhappiness is something that won't be resolved. The only way to come close is to accept it, and move on, thereby eliminating the “unhappiness” factor in the equation. Completeness is a moving target. You will always have problems. Your problems will hopefully become higher quality problems over time, but they never stop coming. In the same way the food that goes on those shelves will be eaten, and the shelves will never stay full, those shelves will, in a metaphorical sense, never be completed. It's like Tetris: sometimes, through a combination of planning and luck, you get that perfect piece, and most of the time, you just have holes to fill. Line by line, you work on them. Until the end.

Which brings me back to the idea of getting a tattoo. I could never get one. I don't feel there's any one idea that will stick with me for my entire life. No phrase, no logo, no band, no picture that sums me up, to have this finite amount of canvass. You have to have everything perfect before you begin: the location of the tattoo, the size, the design, the color. I couldn't commit to something like that. Ever. There's an Ultimate Fighter who has a tattoo of Johnny Cash on his bicep. He got the tattoo before he started bulking up, so now Johnny has a huge chin,and looks more like Fat Albert than the man in black. So the canvass itself, your own body, can change, for the better, or for the worse, over time. I can't imagine someone with an armful of ink getting into an accident or a knife fight.

People have their own reasons to pierce this, or tattoo that. But for me, the idea of having one chance at something, no matter how much preparation goes into it, and then having the result be permanent...well it goes against everything I can be. My canvass is intensionally blank.

Time Will Test Any Warrior's (or Lover's) Mettle

A relationship can end for any number of reasons; one person can change, both people can change, distance may be a factor, or money; maybe one day you just look around and say “I thought this was what I wanted, but now that I have it, I found out it wasn't.” But what hurts even more than the missing of the other person, is the hurt of losing someone's trust.

Trust is not something you can put on a shelf and forget about. It's not something you can steal, but it is something you can lose. It can be broken, and it can be repaired, but never be the way it was. Trust is a verb. It is something you do. Treat it like something you do, not something you have.

I can't tell you the right way to break up with someone, but I can tell you the wrong way. Don't try to “game the system,” because there is no system, and what you call “the system” is made up of people. And I'm pretty sure it's made up of people you say you care about.

Don't try to schedule a breakup before or after a birthday, anniversary, or holiday (Christmas and Valentine's Day come to mind) because you want to receive, or, avoid giving some gift or physical favor. Just don't schedule it at all. A good relationship should have a continually-evolving, multi-dimensional, omni-directional open system of communication. This doesn't mean be an asshole and say every bad thing about your partner that comes to mind. But when your racing thoughts about your partner are keeping you up at night, it's time to open your mouth and start talking. Don't make a plan B, don't pack your escape pod, and don't even think “it's better to ask forgiveness than permission.” Be kind, be aware, and be open. Just tell the truth, and work it out. And if you can't work it out, then leave with your head held high.

Don't make any subtle hints that you're unhappy with your partner. Come out and say them. If you're going to a strip club, say you're going to a strip club. If you want to try out some crazy kink and don't know how she'll react? Don't just leave your web site history open, what should be open is your mouth.

The less you say, the more the other person can imagine. Cut them off, let them stew, they'll think there's someone else, or they just aren't good enough. It's going to hurt no matter what, but there's no need to twist the knife. The simple fact is, it will break someone down more than you can ever imagine not to have some sort of closure on a relationship. It will affect them, it will change the way they think about themselves. It may inspire them with anger, or simply build up to a direction-less rage.

Time will test any warrior's mettle. It will test any lover's mettle as well. There is nothing that will quite end a search for happiness like finding it. But, then what? You have your boat, where will you go? You got what you wanted, now what will you do with it? Will you spend your life making yourself unhappy, even if you don't realize it, by always looking for the next thing, thinking you can do better, even as you convince yourself that the other person will never do better than you?

It's a bad gamble to take, my friend, a very bad gamble. Because when you lose, you'll be the one with all the questions that don't have answers. You'll be the one forced to take a good look at yourself and try to change without knowing what to change to, or even from. What lessons will you take from the experience, and will they be the right ones?

You invest in a relationship. You invest your time. You invest yourself. You invest your imagined future. And when it ends, that future goes with it. So, the more you invest in a relationship, the more it hurts, because you're mourning multiple things at once: the person's companionship, the loss of trust, and the future you thought you'd have. Nothing is so hard to make and so easy to lose as a future.

Which means, inevitably, you must focus on the present. Whatever stage of a relationship you are in, including just looking for one, you have to appreciate the process itself. Appreciate the hurt of a relationship gone wrong, and how it can inspire you; appreciate the process of finding, of weeding out what you don't want, and how to better find what you do want, whether it's what to say at a bar (or stay away from bars), what to say on an online profile, and even appreciate the free time you have to focus on other things, instead of making someone else's happiness your priority; and then, when you have that moment, that perfect moment, when you realize you found someone who not only can appreciate you for who you really are, but who you can make happiest by being yourself, and can bring out not just the best in your, but more of yourself than you ever imagined...hang on to that moment. Hang on to it because there's no guarantee it will last. But know also that that moment can last for years.