I love you man!

What is it about being involved with a group of people and experiencing things together with them that creates a bond?  We've all heard the term "brothers in arms" before, right?  Someone who was there.  Someone who "gets it."  This can also very well apply to two strangers who fought in the same war whether literal or figurative.  Or it can just be a group brought together by chance or a common interest.

Two examples come to mind.  First is the experience I had working through a divorce at the same time as my brother and two other friends.  We all saw first hand the war that can be waged between spouses.  Whether it's a cold war or all out nuclear annihilation, we saw it.  The same comradery exists, however, between myself and a guy I just met for the first time who, I found out, was also going through the struggle of divorce.  We bonded as though we were long time friends.  Why does that happen?  It's interesting to me that there seems to be this universal club that people can be a part of just for having gone through the misery it took to understand the mindset of those who are a part of that group.  So, if you encounter someone who has had similar experiences to your own, give them a hi five and make that connection.  It can be rather rewarding if you let it.

The second example that comes to mind is less profound but seemingly far more potent.  I have been participating in a theatrical production which has a rather large cast of players.  We have nearly completed a run of 58 shows together and though I am exhausted from the run, I will be sorry to see it end.  I seem to be spending more time with these marvelous people than I do with members of my own family, and I prefer it that way.  Each person so dynamic and so diverse.  Each one a puzzle to figure out how to unlock and understand.  I can imagine that each of these people are so different for me, had we not shared a love of theater we should never have met in a hundred years, much less had a conversation.  One person is a lawyer, one a dancer, one a retail clerk, one a network administrator, one a reputation manager, one an engineer, one a student studying Arabic.  We were so different when we first came together it was difficult to imagine ever coming to know these odd and fascinating people.  Now, at the end, I can hardly imagine NOT sharing my evenings with these wonderful friends.

I suppose a quote is appropriate here.  "Some people come into our lives and quickly go.  Others stay a while and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never, ever the same."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson.

I hate birthdays.

You remember back in the day when you would always look forward to the day when you were another year older, wiser and closer to getting out of your parents house?  As it drew closer you would get more and more excited wondering what you would get as a birthday present and how your family and friends would reward you for the simple act of surviving another year.  You would be so excited on your birthday that you would wake up early in the morning and say to yourself, "Hey, it's my birthday today! Yeeehaw!"  Ah, the foibles of youth.

I don't remember when it happened, but somewhere along the line I stopped looking forward to birthdays.  Maybe it was the lofty expectations I imposed on others never being met.  Maybe it was that I had to work my butt off to be able to afford a birthday gift that I now have to buy for myself.  Maybe it was the forced expectation that I celebrate the passage of another year with my family and friends.  Could have been a lot of things, really.

Anymore, I find myself cringing when I realize that my birthday is coming closer.  I try to hide the date and make an effort to avoid drawing attention.  Is this because I am uncomfortable being the center of attention?  No, at least not in this light.  I thrive on attention when it is in an arena that I feel comfortable in.  I think I have just been jaded by the pressure of another year passing me by.  What do I have to show for it?  Work? Family? Accolades?  It seems like when a birthday rolls around it's time for another self reflective performance review.  One of those pointed conversations that you have with yourself where you are held accountable for what you have done with your time.  Anyone LIKE those kinds of conversations?!

Do me a favor when it comes to birthdays: skip it.

Giving into peer pressure.

Alright! I finally broke down and started a friggin' blog, dammit! I have no idea what to write about nor do I think that anything I have to say would be in any way worth reading, but here it is. It seems like the popular thing to do to catalog ones thoughts and feelings in a public forum for all to see now a days. Makes me wonder what anthropologists are going to think thousands of years from now (provided they can access our antiquated internet) when they read this, or any blog for that matter. I can just see one professor of ancient studies turning to another and saying, "Wow, these people were f***ed up!"

So, what to write about? Life, love, goals, pursuit of dreams? Sure, I can do that. But I also think it would be more fun and much more meaningful to write about all the garbage that happens in everyday life, as well. I mean, let's face it; it's not all sunshine and rainbows all the time is it, people? No, life sucks sometimes. In fact, life tends to suck most of the time but is interspersed with moments that make all the misery worth it.

Well, here begins the great adventure.