Tiny Lifequake

I could spend a lot of time setting this up, but I won’t.

Humans are storytelling animals. I certainly like to tell myself stories, and more often than not, they’re all just fancied tragedies. One of the prevailing ones is a narrative of failure. Certain situations summon this mean, inner narrator, and almost without me having to do anything, the story begins. It’s a tale I’ve told myself for a very long time, and it always ends with me feeling like I’ve been through an existential meat grinder. Such was the case on the day I lugged myself into the domesticated hell of Katy, Texas. Image Continue reading

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Self-Doubt: Tom Foolery’s Emotionally Damaged 2nd Cousin

“You don’t believe in yourself. We get it.”

That’s what I’m waiting for everyone to say to me. Who’s everyone? People, man. Just people.

I cut myself down first, then wait for others to follow suit. It’s a skill I honed in high school. The idea is if I disassemble myself in front of everyone, no one else has to do it. And if they try, I’ve already affirmed them in their mission – so it’s all good. Like water off a duck’s back. You see that? You can’t hurt me. I hurt myself first. We’re all friends here. Image

But if you stuck a gun to my head and asked me, “Susan, do you think you’re going to make it? Do you believe in yourself or not?” I’d scream “yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Then I’d ask why you’re carrying a gun. Then I’d remember I’m in Texas. Continue reading

People Matter.

When I was little, I had a Jewish friend named Sally. When it came time for me to be baptized, I told my mom how excited I was to tell Sally about my decision. My thrill was smashed by one of those adult ideas that 10 year-olds don’t understand. She told me that Jewish folks don’t believe Jesus was the son of God.

 

Wait a minute. Isn’t that what this whole dunk is all about? I profess my faith that Jesus was the Messiah. I am cleansed of my sins and find eternal life in heaven. And more pressing here, those that don’t adhere to the Good News are doomed to eternal damnation in the flaming pits of hell. That’s what you guys said, right?

 

I’m going to heaven, right? Continue reading

The Awkward Handshake, Wizards, and Sailing.

Only The Graduate had the balls to talk about the post-college malaise that settles in after Graduation Day lunch has been eaten and all the family is gone. Well, maybe a few other media texts have offered up their opinion on the matter, but I’m no expert on that. Oh wait, my degree is in Film and Digital Media. I probably should be. At any rate, here I sit in my smoky sanctuary at an undisclosed location (for anonymity reasons), and the excitement is gone. I’ve crested the wave. I’ve peaked. And oh my God, look at that downhill. Emotional nuclear fallout, and I’m pretty sure there are disfigurements.

I just read what I wrote. Holy shit, that sounds depressing. Continue reading

Congratulations, you didn’t die.

Lots of people don’t participate in the graduation ceremony that’s held at the end of four years of college. My mom was one of those people. This has always baffled me. Why wouldn’t you celebrate such an arduous journey with a ten second stroll in the spotlight? Hell, I’ll take a spotlight any way I can get it. I’m just relieved this one isn’t attached to a police cruiser. Continue reading