Anxiety - Hooray! (It's ridiculous)

It's unfortunate, but American society is certainly fertile soil for producing anxiety, as it's safety nets are full of large biased holes, and the organizations that could do something about this are filled with other kinds of holes. 

I have both been a person who has no concept of anxiety and a person who has debilitating panic attacks. The former was when I was a child, had a strong support system, and felt as though there was always a safe place awaiting, a home. The second seemed to happen once this safety was removed; not just pieces of a home, but the entire floor beneath it fell out. This event seemed to traumatize me, like I think it does a lot of people, and now any time there is even the perception of a similar fallout, the anxiety comes flooding back until I remember to build my own floor. I wonder how many other people experience anxiety in this way, and how many consider it ridiculous? I mean, it is ridiculous, but it is often times out of our control. I know many people who experience this disorder in their own way, but I also know others who will never know the bizarre feeling of a spirit of worry swooping in and confiscating your body, while your gut is pushed to the other side of the universe. 

Right now it's like a swelling in my throat that slowly grows until I suffocate. This would make an excellent muse for a grunge song, but it makes for a shitty one when creating a syllabus. I can't organize an entire classroom and the learning process of fifty students if I can't even organize my own thoughts.I don't know why I am so petrified to teach my classes next semester. Maybe because it's only my second semester teaching and I've picked up yet another completely new class. Maybe it's the so-called "impostor" syndrome that a lot of teachers get, where I don't feel like I am a real teacher and have no place directing a classroom of students. Certainly there is the massive fear of failure; what happens if I walk in my first day and my students think that I am a complete idiot who has no idea what I am doing? Because, let's face it, it's only my second semester, so I don't! What am I doing? Ahhhh! 

   I keep having the dream that it's the first day of class, I'm completely unprepared, and the students scoff at the uselessness of whatever activity I am failing at getting them involved with. It causes an inner sadness that I don't know how to cope with. I don't want to feel this way anymore. I don't want to have this dream again. I relinquish my ownership of these thoughts and their power over me; get off, go somewhere else! Let me write my novel, relax, and plan my classes over a cup of coffee and some light conversation; that's what I love! How could I have turned something I love into something I hate, purely based on fear? It's ridiculous. It really is. 

Who knows? I don't know why it's here, but I know it's not welcome. I keep on kicking it out, and it keeps on showing up at the door. I must've given it the key years ago and I still haven't figured out how to change the locks. Maybe I'll make my permanent floor at the bottom, so I'll never have to worry about it falling out on me again. 

Art, Pain, and My Friend

      I had a distant friend die today. He was a brilliant artist--funny, smoked American Spirits compulsively to deal with his overwhelming thoughts (that I imagine he loved just as much as he hated) and cool. His name was Jeremy. He was a great debater; we would have reality reforming discussions about the nature of truth and identity, and then casually poke fun at the local coffee shop tarot card reader, Myles. I remember one day Jeremy retired his shirts for plain white tees with his personal artwork on them-- "I don't want anyone else's insignia on me." I was inspired, Neither did I. Fuck wearing someone else's clothes.

       Jeremy was full of mental angst. I recognized and empathized with this because I was too, especially during my early twenties when I knew him the best. He hinted at suffering from various mental disorders, but when I was around him he was always just a kind and brilliant soul, our collective craziness seemed to complement each of the others'. I often pictured him as a symphony conductor that never self-realized--in a tux, directing a group of musical talents that demanded all his attention with a white baton. And now, my refreshing balance of cynical and light-hearted friend has moved on. I don't dare say "he's in God's hands now," or he's "in a better place," because that's the exact type of horse shit he would have rolled his eyes at-- I will say he's where he is; nothing stops going to my knowledge or wisdom. For all I know he could be reincarnated as a tree, or willingly stay a cosmic anomaly instead of re-entering conscious life. It seems like he could use a little break from this place and all its overwhelming thoughts.

       I've always argued that great art isn't necessarily born from pain. I argue this because when I was younger I was just as smart and creative as I am now, and even more artistic--but not in pain. Now I find myself in a type of relapsing-remitting pain. The kind that makes me lie in bed and squirm occasionally, not intensely, always a slow, barely escapable pain. If I can convince myself to get out of the apartment, I know I could feel a little better and get some great things done, but more often than not, I end up wasting the day away because I ate something that mysteriously hurts my stomach. Thinking about Jeremy makes me feel like I'm in a realistic middle ground of pain for this life. He was noticeably in more pain than I was, and much like me, he pushed a lot of it out through art. It makes me wonder if my pain was worse, how many more days I would miss out on. Or, if his was less, how many more days he would have enjoyed.

       Great Art doesn't require pain, but great pain does require Great Art. I'll have to remember to suck it up, get out and write, draw, act or creatively exercise my pain so I don't miss out on those days. Anyways, Jeremy I'll miss you, and I hope to run into you again. Love to your family and all the friends/second family at 1521 East Boulevard.

Substitue Nerves

The first day in my new career is next week. I am so glad to be moving in a direction that is actually a step toward my goal, but I hate new jobs. I am not good at them. It takes me so much time to become comfortable, and this next one is the mother of all anxiety attacks for me. Substitute teaching has such a high range of possibilities that I can’t help but to worry about the bad, and feel unconfident about the good. I just have to remember to relax, to breath; it’s just a sub-teaching position! Not rocket science, although I think I would love rocket science. Just read-off the damned lesson plan!
I think it’s the disciplinary factors that are intimidating, everything else sounds kind of fun actually. Also, there is that drastic fear of failure, as it is actually in my field if I fail here I fail at one of my passions, the last practical one. I want to be good at this so bad, and I would hate to let people down. I want to feel strong. I have never felt strong in my career path before, and it has been a constant drain on my being.
There is some deeply buried pillar in my personal foundation that has always been there and it holds me back. I think by taking on this job I am finally starting to dig around it, and make progress towards pulling it out. It’s not supporting anything, but it is keeping me from moving forward. As human members of the globalized world our foundations must remain mobile. As opposed to spider monkeys, the foundational aspects of spider monkeys in the 21st century can pretty much remain constant. Polar bears, on the other hand…
The last part of my fear comes from a much more practical area: Am I going to be able to function at 5:30 in the morning? I haven’t had to since high school, and well, I didn’t function well in high school. High school, I never thought I’d go back into high school. At the same time I feel like these kids need someone who can still relate to them, because it was such a hard time for me. I won’t trivialize their problems, and I know what is realistic to expect from them.
I just wish for once I could enjoy a new endeavor again. Like I did when I was a kid; why can’t I have that good excitement that I used to? I need to learn to distance myself from pressure and empathy, and use it only when it has a positive affect in my life. I need to learn to look forward to this, instead of fearing it. I just wonder how to do that.

City of Self

I love that feeling you get at around 8ish at the coffee shop when there is nobody else around. It is like having your own personal coffee bar at your disposal. So quiet, so much room, breathing becomes a pleasure.

The sun has recently gone down and the lights inside are glowing like mini moons. The employees are actually having a real conversation because they no longer have to keep up the corporate facade to appease customers and they are allowed to be people again. All of the pressure of the day has just been released: the formerly clogged traffic flow has slowly dripped out of highway off-ramps and returned to home. I am at peace.
The way we live is constantly under construction, so these moments are rare. The ones where we stop and wonder if we are building the right thing, supporting the right project, setting up what we need to in order to be our best selves. We are so busy just trying to get by that we don’t have the time to stop and see the bigger picture. I think for once, I might be moving in the right direction on a multi-tiered skyscraper of self. It would be nice to have one in my city of Benjamin.

The Snow

It is an interesting phenomenon that no matter how cold it is outside that snow still makes me feel warm. I know some people will waste their time making scientific explanations about the change in humidity or the reflection of light off all of the white ground, but I am certain it is just the feeling of snow itself. It is white and happy. No matter how dull my life is or lonely, or interesting and full of life the snow still adds a positive element. It calls me home, I think to the north. Maybe even to a different country, but when it is around, it is where I belong.
I don't know where I am moving to in five days, and I don't have a job, but those are luckily short-term problems and the long-term is looking up. In this short term tornado it is nice to have the snow to remind me to relax and be happy. I could say that I wish I had someone else here with me in my cozy apartment to watch movies and talk to, but oh what would I do if they didn't like the snow?

Every Moment

It seems like a good portion of life is learning to bring this moment into consciousness. I say this because you can look at things that normally seem random but with a bit more tact and wisdom find that they are in fact beautifully structured. When I am most awake I find the answers to my hardest questions wandering about in life like a House episode, but even more bizarrely. The smallest line in a TV series, the way bubbles rise to the surface in a pot of heated water, these actions become illuminating when I have the energy and focus to look at them the right way. Perhaps a self-manifestation of reality, it's like solving a math problem except the formula changes each time.
I find myself craving a better memory of such events. I end up trying to keep the thought in my head long enough to write it down and then develop some massive organized system of recorded enlightenments so that I don't have to go through the same things again, or at least I get through them quicker or enjoy them. Sometimes to learn something in my memory seems ephemeral, because I know I am going to die eventually so it will be lost anyways. I think this is how I get unmotivated to learn these enlightenments in my physical memory. It seems instead I must go through them again and again until they change the very fabric of my being, until my spirit grows and learns. This way it will be ingrained in me for eternity.
For whatever reason, some days you just know when to go where, and when you don't listen to your spirit on those days you wind up kicking yourself, and infinitely curious as to what great time that you could have had. Today was like that; I almost figured it out before it was too late but I think I started off bad by not getting up until 3, lol. The balance in my life is finally returning though, so this is excellent. My excitement for the next day is returning, and my love as well. Soon enough my energy will be too awake for even me to ignore, and the days will be like creamed honey and the nights like thick coffee. Right now I just need to slow down and take it one third step at a time.

It's amazing the different moods I can go through during one day. One moment everything is as clear as the Carolina sky, ideas popcorn out of little neuron seeds and accompanying feelings complete every moment. Then, a crash! I don't even know what I hit, but the polar axises of my brain flop. It is probably from the bizarre digestive problem, but I am so "up in the air" these days it is hard to tell. All of the sudden I am immobilized. I can't think, my brain is too tired or too full of thought traffic and I freak out man! I have a million little things to do and this is my time! This is where I need to be turning it all around and balls to the wall work my ass off but I am incapacitated by either physical illness or crazy, and I have no clue which one it is, probably a little bit of both.
Meditation helps with the mental traffic, but then I am left after wards with the incessant tiredness from eating food because my body doesn't like food right now. It likes salads without dressing or cheese, and water. That is about it! I hope to god I can find out what it is because it is really keeping me from flying high. But it has always been there partially, so everyday this cycle takes place and wears me out. I think it was more manageable when there was love in my life, or really close friendships, but now it is suffocating my energy. Oh, but then a few hours later I can see clear again.
This is like a bi-polar experience caused by dietary/allergy problems, a forced suffering and an intense new understanding of how a lot of us have to live our lives in perpetual pain. The only thing that makes it worth it is love, and I would feel desperate for love because of this, but it has been so long without it that it almost doesn't matter. I think that if I found it I wouldn't believe it for at least a year, lol.
But I keep a little bit of hope, not too much for safety and realistic reasons, but a little hope for either love or health to enter into my life and make it livable again. It is something I have been relentlessly manifesting myself for almost two years and searching for the cause and cure of spiritually and worldly. I hope that I will succeed before I become someone who I don't want to be, I'm not a cynical or bitter person and I am obdurate in my optimism.
I am a Ben, and I do not wish to be anything or anyone else, only to have a little more power over the negative absurdities of life that keep me from being happy and growing. That is all I have to say about that.