I’ve been having difficulty thinking positively lately. What’s new, you ask? Nothing. But I’m tired of it. So, I’ve decided to think positively for this post. In doing so, I’ve cataloged a few things that usually put a smile on my face.
1. Children. Not the bratty little bastards who stomp their feet and shit their pants when they don’t get what they want. I like the well-behaved ones who haven’t learned passive (or active) manipulation yet. Playing with them requires almost no thought and in doing so, I discover an innocent retreat in my mind.
2. Dogs. That may come as a surprise to those of you who know me. Dogs usually bite my various appendages, and I’m mostly terrified of them, but once I’m comfortable with one, there is a wonderful reciprocation of love as innocent and genuine as I find with children.
3. I enjoy being a part of people’s laughter, my girlfriend's especially. That’s not to say I take pleasure in being laughed at. I just like being there to see someone expressing happiness. Does any other animal laugh? I don’t think so. It’s ours, and I revel in it.
4. Heat. I enjoy summers in Texas. Last summer was exceptionally Hellish. It was so hot that Austin’s notorious humidity was burned out of the atmosphere, and you could actually feel the heat, sharp and alien, in your lungs. Most people bitch about it, but I embrace the extremes. There’s no experience like running in 105 degrees and then crunching down a grape snow cone at Barton Springs while the heat stroke spots clear your vision. Of course, you could die, but you could also have a brain aneurysm after spending 3 hours on Sunday trying to pick the keyhole of your bathroom door before frustratingly bashing off the whole doorknob with a hammer.
5. I take a shrill pleasure in seeing fiery meteorites. My two most memorable experiences of them were 15 years apart but equally impressive. When I was 10, I had climbed onto our roof in meteor shower anticipation and for a solid hour, I watched the brightest, streakiest, and most colorful show with my arms folded comfortably behind my head. I cherish that I own that recollection. No one in my family or on my street was committed or interested enough to join me, so I was utterly alone. As an adult, I was hitchhiking through Nebraska when I witnessed my second favorite shower. It was well past midnight and the ground was covered in snow and with the exception of the December Geminids, I was in total darkness. There were no cars, no people, no noise. Just me and dozens of soundless falling stars. Spectacular.
6. Love. I know that’s a painful cliché, but I think that’s because so many people think they’ve found it when they really haven’t. I know I’ve mistaken it on many...many occasions. My new understanding of love is that it is not just an overwhelming emotion, it’s a faith, a faith that I am blindly devoted to. I’ve never believed in a relationship more than the one I’m in now, and before now, I had never surrendered all my insecurities or laid bare my imperfections (except to you people (I love you)). It’s a...peaceful experience.
On second thought, I’m uncomfortable with such an uncharacteristic posting. Um...just remember that when you die, you’ll only be remembered for about three generations, tops. After that, no one will visit or maintain your gravesite. It’ll fall into dilapidation, and unless you’re Jesus, you will ultimately be forgotten. Even he’ll be forgotten one day though. If the human race is lucky enough (which it isn’t), it’ll spread off planet and taint other worlds until Earth gods are mythological if even remembered in their present form. The most inevitable case scenario is that human culture will simply disappear along with our hopes, dreams, and superstitions, and whatever sentient creatures replacing us will rise and fall and be replaced many times over before the universe slams into another one and destroys the nature of existence as we understand it. In short, nothing matters.