Passion

Passion is something that drives me. I am at heart a passionate person. Not in some sort of romantic chick flick kind of a way, just in that I latch on to anything completely. I love the idea of committing to something completely. In my previous blog, I talked about how my passions have run my life. Passion I think can be a very good thing and a very bad thing. I've been told by many that it is one of my greatest characteristics, but I'm not so sure. A lot of times I am unable to focus on anything other than what I am passionate about at the time being. Right now, I'm so passionate about guitar and worship music that I struggle maintaining other areas of my life because all I want to do is play guitar or think about arrangements, but how long is that going to last. Infatuation might be a better word here because they don't last. I'm just able to disguise it to others as passion.

A couple months ago I kind of realized that recently I've let these infatuations control my life and almost serve as an excuse or distraction from dealing with life (I guess that would be the most appropriate word). I get so much crap about not wanting to date it's absurd. When I get that pressure I always have the same rhetoric... "I don't want to date because it will distract me from _______." Lately, the fill-in-the-blank word has been guitar. I want to focus on guitar so much that dating would just be a distraction from learning my latest craft. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not, but I do have to question it myself when the blank has been filled with different things for the past 5 years. (By my best estimate, it has been 5 years since my last date, yikes!) After my last relationship ended I said I needed to focus on my education, after that it was my move to California, after that it was skiing, after that it was finding a new job, after that I'm at the guitar phase. Those all seem like they could be legitimate reasons, but I wonder if they aren't just excuses.

Relationships scare me to death, being vulnerable to someone else scares me even more. I guess I can be vulnerable to some extent with friends because I know that they will always be a loyal friend. But the thought of opening up to another girlfriend, freaks me out because who knows how long that relationship will last. Just by sheer statistics, the relationship will most likely end, and I will have revealed all this inner stuff about me to someone I will probably never speak to again. (I never continue friendships after a relationship, just no point in it. It's awkward for everyone.) My last girlfriend probably knows me better than anyone. That's a scary thought because outside of a weird myspace contact, I haven't spoken with her in more than 4 years. I have some great guy friends, but there's just an emotional element that guys never talk about. I think it's just because there's not emotion involved all the time when hanging out with the guys whereas spending time with girlfriend will always have an emotional element and if it doesn't then the end of that relationship is near.

I think what scares me even more than the vulnerability is who I become in a relationship. In the past, I have completely opened up. I let myself become vulnerable. My passion/infatuation kick in. I'm definitely not clingy or "in love" too soon, but the relationship will consume me. It's just like playing guitar, skiing, or moving to California. It dominates my thinking. Why is that? What is it about my personality that leads me to do that? Am I just really bored with life and anything new is rejuvenating? Or am I really just a dull person and I'm searching for anything to make my life more interesting? I do know that I experience emotion at a high level, but I don't let people know that. I come across as a very level-headed, calm, rational person. I think I am a calm and rational person because I don't act on emotion. I'm always able to separate my emotions from situations, but I still have all those emotions operating behind the scenes. I remember crying and hurting in private for a friend who's dad had an unexpected heart attack. I didn't let anyone know that, but the story and knowing a friend was hurting that much just broke my heart.

Why am I so scared to let people know what I am really feeling, or who I really am? The only possible answer is that I'm concerned what they will think of me. It's kind of crazy though because that's hasn't really been an issue since middle school, but as I ponder on it the thought makes more sense. I middle school I wasn't "cool," but that kind of changed in high school. I lost weight, started playing sports, found my outlandish funny side of my personality, and just gained confidence. By the time I was in my senior year I was through with high school and was ready for college. I went to a small college and was definitely in the "noticeable" group on campus. I was on stage quite a bit at a sketch comedy show, had tons of friends, etc. Even though I became "cool" it was all exterior stuff. I become satisfied with who my friends had become, how recognized I was on campus, but never became who I am at the core. I think I tried to put forth an image of who would be most liked. Definitely a sad conclusion to come to here.

Restless

I hate blogs. Strange to write that on a blog right? Well I do. Don't get me wrong, I always am entertained reading over the inner thoughts of random people from my past (or just random people), but the idea of sharing my own thoughts on the internet is less than appealing. I don't like my friends to know what I am thinking, let alone anyone with some internet stalking skills, but I have had trouble keeping up with journaling of any sorts and I have had some weird driving desire to write out my thoughts lately. I tried the inviting and sexy blank books on the Barnes & Noble sale shelf (are those things ever full price?), but hated actually writing by hand. The pen and paper method just doesn't work for me because I'm a perfectionist and I hate using a pencil. I even tried to type out thoughts in a Word document, but there's something too business like (or academic) about staring at that screen. So I'm left with few options. I usually have the ability to express myself over email fairly well so I decided to try blogging again because even there is no specific reader in mind, I get to write it as if someone will read it and I won't have to deal with all the awkward pronouns associated with journaling. That and the screen kind of looks like my gmail screen which is kind of the digital version of the Barnes & Noble blank book.

I've recently turned the ripe old age of 27. I know this doesn't seem like a ripe age, but I submit that it is indeed a ripe age. I'm officially on the way out of my 20's, my knees hurt sometimes when I play basketball for more than 90 minutes, I'm no longer adding to my credit card debt, and I enjoy being boring on the weekends sometimes. The whole thing has played with my head a bit though. There’s a certain stigma of adulthood that comes with the age of 27, at least for me there is. When I think of someone 27 years old, I think of the people that used to come over to my house for dinner. My parents always liked to entertain so there was constant influx of families regularly coming to our house for Sunday dinners after church, playing games on Friday nights, and pizza after the high school basketball games. They were starting families, buying houses, and investing. The men were moving up in their companies and wearing khakis with button down shirts all the time. The women were transitioning out of corporate careers and into domestic ones. That's not me at all. Maybe I'm just coming to terms with me actually finally breaking the "midwestern" mold that I tried to break all these years. I think deep down I never thought I would break it even though I've avoided marriage/relationships like the bubonic plague. Maybe I didn't want to break it, or maybe I just liked the challenge of breaking it.

This whole last week I've been in a very pensive mood. I had a great conversation with my friend Steve when I was home. He asked me "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" I said, "Do you mean physical location or like emotionally and spiritually?" His response was "All of it." It kind of set off chain of thoughts over the past week b/c it made me think of how I would have answered that question 5 years ago. Where I am now is not what I envisioned 5 years ago, not that it's bad, just not where I thought I would be. I thought my life would be drastically different. I figured I'd be married, at a much higher career level, living in the midwest, probably own a home, etc. But somewhere along the line I left that course. Why? I don't really have a solid answer. For most people that described life would be heaven, but not for me. I wanted to move somewhere I could ski on a regular basis, but why in the world does a guy who grew up in one of the flattest parts of the country want to move out west to ski more. Maybe I just want to be envied. At any rate, I took a completely different path. I jeopardized my career, moved thousands of miles from friends and family for what? A passion. The thing that is crazy is that my passions come and go. In middle school, I thought tennis was the best thing ever invented. I played all the time. I mowed lawns and saved up to buy a $100 racket (and it did make me better, I don't care what anyone says, in tennis and golf equipment makes a difference). Throughout most of high school, I couldn't play enough basketball. I watched college games with an intensity reserved for coaching staffs, I studied offensive strategies, defensive movements, game plans, and techniques. Today, I play basketball once a week at a church and I can't even remember the last time I picked up a tennis racket (probably early college smacking tennis balls at each other in the dorm hallway). In college I started skiing my sophomore year and just fell in love with it. I went to Colorado on every Christmas and spring break, and even left in the middle of the night for a spontaneous trip b/c the reality of graduating and the impending death of a serious relationship were too much at the time. Now the passion is guitar. I think I can say with confidence I still have my passion for skiing, but I didn't get to go very much this year. That has already been changed for next season. It's just kind of scary to think that I've made some long term decisions based on what I have wanted at the moment.

Looking back on the last paragraph, one sentence really stuck out to me. I'm sure it does to you (whoever you are) as well because I made it bold. In reading my thoughts, that seemed to be the off the cuff statement that was the most revealing. Maybe I live my life to be envied. Envy is something I struggle with quite a bit. I have a hard time experiencing joy with close friends when they get something I don't have or can't get. I hate that about myself. I should be as excited as my friend when he buys a house in California's crazy market, not pissed off because I can't do the same thing. Anyways, growing up a PK (pastor's kid) meant that I rarely was one to be envied in terms of worldly things. Sure, God always provided one way or another, but I was never the envy of my friends. When the idea to move to California presented itself, I think it was the fact that people would be envious that encouraged the move more than what I may or may not have wanted. To this day I still brag about the weather, culture, skiing, scenery, mountains, and mexican food at every opportunity I get. It's different than the way most people live for others, but it is that at it's heart, I'm living for their envy.

Back to the 5 year question again. Obviously, as shown before, 5 years from now will probably look very different that what I envision, but what do I want it to look like? The answer... I have no clue. I know I don't need to have everything (or anything) figured out at this point, but I also don't think I should be wandering aimlessly through life with no real goals or direction, just having a random assortment of temporary infatuations that I let rule my decisions during their reign. I mean what's next, scuba diving forcing me to move to the Caymans? Not only that, but even after I've reached the so called "promised land" (in this case California), I'm still not completely satisfied. I've been in CA for 2.5 years and now I'm thinking about my move back home in 3-5 years. No matter where I am, I'm never satisfied. The grass is always greener. I'm always restless.