"To belong is to feel at home. 'To be at home is to be known...'" -Jill Lepore, a History of Loneliness

To belong is to feel at home, they say.

To be at home is to be known, they say.

Perhaps this is why I call a far away place home. Even when I don't mean to.

I was once known. I did once belong.

I was once home.

Now, I am alone.

What happens to the wealthy kids who everyone is trained to hate? What about the trust-fund babies? Are they inherently less worthy of our praise? No, fuck praise, are they inherently less worthy of our general respect? Money can insulate, or money can magnify. We all hurt. Even the ones who look like they can’t. The ones who can only fall so far might hurt more on the short ride down, I don’t know.

There once was a lonely, lonely son. He only wanted to make his parents proud – but he didn’t know how. 22 years of blue ribbons, gold medals, and A+ grades didn’t seem to do the trick.

A loser with so much potential, even he could see that. But we are all thrust into existence at no fault of our ow, and some of us just don’t make it. We aren’t all built to survive.

At least nobody else will have to endure this torture; he has made no genetic heirs. His hardware seems to be intact and operational, but his software seems to get rather fucky quite frequently.

But he’s not special, there are many lonely, lonely sons.

I am at my parents’ house today, and I just ate breakfast in our breakfast nook attached to our kitchen. We have a little television in there, and I turned it on. At first, he Today show was on, and I watched a short bit about Al Roker getting a hip replacement. I warmed up my coffee and flipped through a few different channels until I stopped, with little rhyme or reason, on an interview with Tim O’Brien. He was talking about getting drafted during the Vietnam war. This interested me, so I remained on this channel. After several minutes, O’Brien made a statement that seemed profound to me. I quickly ran off to get a pencil and paper to write it down. This is what I wrote “stories are written to preserve, forever, what is or what should be.” If this is not Mr. O’brien’s exact quote, it bears the correct sentiment.

One of my reactionary thoughts to this statement is one of disagreement. Some of the best novels ever written don’t even contain what is, and certainly do not contain what should be either. What first comes to my mind is George Orwell’s novel titled 1984. The world Orwell describes is not the world that exists. Nor should the world of Big Brother and double think exist. If anything, Orwell’s story preserves what should not be.

Oh. Perhaps that is it then. It is not the world inside the story which Orwell wished to preserve, but the one outside. Certainly, the world was not perfect in 1948, when Orwell published 1984. But it looked awfully better than it had 3 years prior. Even so, I suspect it might be more accurate to suggest Orwell wanted to preserve certain ideals and a hopeful reverence for them, by vividly describing their opposites. Viewed in this way, I can see the merit to O’Brien’s words. I actually even like the idea. That I, or you, or him, or her can preserve, forever, that which should be; whatever it may be that should be. In fact, I like it a lot.

I over-heard a man, the other day, make the comment "what can I say, the Lord takes care of me?" Instead of the initial reaction I might normally have, whenever someone appeals to, blames, or otherwise invokes God, I immediately connected with it. The exact phrase I have been repeating recently is "I don't know, somehow the universe is looking out for me." If I'm late, the train's late. If I miss a class, the class got cancelled. If I, last minute, realize I can't keep a meeting, a text comes in that the other person needs to reschedule before I can cancel. If my back goes out, the chiropractor has an immediate appointment available. When I procrastinate a paper to the last hours, I still get an A. I can wear a jacked, chiseled look exercising half the time, as the "dad-bod" man. What can I say?

I absolutely would have missed the train, if I didn't show up at all. I wouldn't have a class to miss, if I never enrolled. I wouldn't have a meeting to reschedule, if I had been too scared to ask for one. I'd be crippled by pain, if I just assumed I couldn't get into the chiropractor on such short notice. "There's no way I can still get an A anymore anyway, it's too late, I might as well just half-ass this paper" is an attitude that can never earn an A. "Slack off a little, you deserve it," is advice I never take. While I'm eating fish and rice, he's eating fry bread and ice-cream. They tell me abs are made in the kitchen. What can I say?

It is a team effort. The world and I each do our part. That's what I say.

It is 21:21, and I have no state.

A strange thing this is.

I am not happy, nor am I sad.

I am not tired, nor am I energized.

I am not bored, nor am I engaged.

But surely I feel something, for I think I am awake.

I am not numb, but I feel no pain.

Nor am I idle, nor do I strain.

I am not hot. I am not cold.

My world sits strangely still.

Perhaps I am ill. Should I take a pill?

No, I don’t think I will.

This is not unpleasant, so for a while, I’ll just chill.

“The spontaneous but disciplined mode of life that both has confronted the death of God and also has gotten over the feeling that something is missing when God dies. Freed from the craving for metaphysical comfort, such a life is restored to the ‘innocence of becoming.’” -Intro to Twilight of the Idols

To thus should one strive, or from thus should one flee? To live in comfort, or live with no need for comfort. Which is truly preferable? Can one be truly preferable? Does it matter?...

Let’s hold hands and count to three.

I’ll pick one and you the other.

I live in pain and misery,

While you excite and bounce with glee.

Did you pick first or was it me?

Now, it’s my turn to bounce with glee.

Let’s again hold hands and count to three.

Why won’t you anymore play with me?

Because I picked one, and not the other...

"The quality of being rare is what makes something valuable. Anything that is plentiful has very little worth." -Grant Cardone

But what of water, or air, or sunlight? For many, these things are often plentiful. Are water, air, and sunlight worthless to us for whom they are not rarities? Of course not. These things can never be valueless. We depend on them for survival. Only to one who does not value life could any of these three, water, air, and sunlight, ever bear no value.

Perhaps using life's necessities was a cop-out answer. Let's explore something that we can live without, though, I would argue, still is valuable - Unconditional love. The defining characteristic of unconditional love is that it is ceaseless, plentiful. That said, unconditional love does seem to be rare. Despite being perpetual, it is a rather unique occurrence nonetheless. This is where the scarcity lies. Unconditional love might be an ever-flowing tap, but there are very few such taps in the world. Furthermore, these taps generally only flow for one person.

I am leery to say that this scarcity is actually what affords unconditional love value, however. It is not the quality of being rare (though also uniquely plentiful), that makes unconditional love valuable. I believe it would be valuable even if everyone had one or even many ever-flowing love taps. Perhaps, love is simply valuable in and of itself. This might be true. But there is something special about unconditional love. If you are only loved dependent on X conditions, I think that love has different meaning, and thus value, than unconditional love. I suspect that common intuition would agree with me.

One might argue that value being derived from scarcity or plenty can only be ascribed to physical objects. I'd listen to such an argument, though I am not sure I would agree with it. In fact, Mr. Cardone was actually using the opening statement as a segue to say that excuses, non-physical things, are worthless due to their overabundance.

Have I solved anything? I'm not sure. Can the labels rare and plentiful even be ascribed to a thing such as unconditional love, a mere construct? Perhaps you will know better than I. As you consider this, call to mind the love in your life. Regardless of the answer to the above question, I invite you to let gratitude fill your heart. The source of love's value is of less importance than the lone fact that it is.

"If you are enthused to do something, now - Do it NOW.

Enthusiasm which is not acted upon can only wane. For Enthusiasm to grow, one must engage actively in that which he or she is enthused, while he or she is initially enthused. Never can an identical sensation be later manufactured. Organically arising motivation is always more enthralling, and more certain." -Me

Who will cry when you die?

Why will they cry when you die?

Will they cry together?

Or will they cry alone?

What will be whispered as you are lowered into the ground?

A life well lived?

A life well loved?

Fond memories, or good riddance?

What would you choose, if you could decide,

Who will cry when you die?