Oh well

I find myself wanting to write something, and I think I have thoughts that would be helpful.  But I can't write them. Something's stopping me, whether if its myself or my situation I haven't decided yet. It takes a lot of effort to write, you know. 

It's as if the part of me that naturally wants to help, there's not enough impetus to let it take over and do what it does. Maybe for once I'm suppressing it in hopes of that helpful nature of mine would stop helping others, in the hopes that it would help itself. Because I could use help too, ya know. 

Oh well, if the zeitgeist is "IDGAF" then, why not? Maybe some schadenfreude would be good for me, after all (two German words? Niiice).  Lol. ahhh I know, this is a bad way to be...

No worries. It's just a thought.

"Why?"

"Why" things happen to us, that's a hard question to answer.

But "Why" we do things shouldn't be.

What fascinates me is that in poker, there's usually a game plan to follow. But most, if not all, of these game plans depend on the situation.  There is no set-in-stone rule of thumb. There's definitely mathematical reasons for doing somethings, and you'd be wise to follow them, but these often don't turn out as expected. In fact, computational game play is only most successful in the long run. In the short-term, anything is possible.

But what strikes me most is the sage advice "whatever you do, always have a reason for doing so. Be able to ask yourself why you're doing something. That's the most important thing".

And, like how poker is life, that's true in life as well.  As long as you have a reason for doing something, at least have a reason. It may very well be a bad reason. But at least you thought about it and can answer "why" for yourself.

Finding a happy place

As an ardent T.S. Eliot fan (my Facebook "about me" section honors his Prufrock and I'm currently reading a biography about him), I've always been fascinated by this quote attributed to him (in Chestertonian-esque fashion):

"Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things" - T.S. Eliot  [italics added for emphasis]

An escape...

Up until now, I experienced poetry more as a "turning loose of emotion" rather than "an escape". Something to which I can let go of everything. But recent events have proved the dichotomy both true (take that, Nobel laureate T.S. Eliot!)

The past couple of days I've discovered a newfound escape: driving through vineyards. I never thought I could ever feel so much peace while driving. All of the worries I had just faded away for about an hour. Especially at dawn during sunset. Breathtaking. I definitely think a huge part of it though was that it reminded me of my time driving through the vineyards of Southern France two summers ago (and who's to say that Californian vineyards don't match!?). Regardless, the vineyards were captivating, like a painting. God's artwork.

Of course, this isn't the only escape I have. Being in Adoration (see link above), praying the rosary, listening to good music, drinking awesome coffee at a cafe, and playing poker affect me similarly. These are my escapes.

Back to T.S. Eliot.  Yes, "my emotions and personality", things which I often expressed in my poetry were things I recently wanted to escape from. Personality flaws and sad emotions caused by mistakes I've made put me currently into a tough situation. And I wished I could escape from it... and I did. Those vineyards helped, even for just a little time.

It's an incredible thing, escaping, even for just a moment. The tough part is coming back.  I've realized that these escapes, while incredibly helpful, could also be harmful (with the exception of Adoration and prayer -- the reason being, of course, is that these are pure, divine escapes, devoid of any negative drawback). I'm starting to believe that for each of us, we have our own ways of escaping our difficult moments, our "happy places", given to us to use for the sake of staying stable by God. But we shouldn't escape forever. We have to come back... to our problems... to our unfortunate circumstances... renewed by our break. Or else we end up like Rip van Winkle. That's not good.

Pretty glad that I like that, that I like driving through vineyards. It makes me look forward to doing a little more traveling... and wine drinking :)

Maximizing Investments on Facebook

Today I was on Facebook, as I'm sure many people are, and read a post about an old friend who is currently going through a hard time. It was a very articulate post; at its end, I felt sad for my friend and wanted to reach out to this person. But then I thought:

1. Is this person really my friend? Not really. I mean, we shared some memories years ago, over eight years ago to ballpark it, and we haven’t talked since. This person doesn’t know much about me besides what I’ve posted on Facebook, and that’s assuming this person has even given my posts the time of day. This concept of a Facebook “friend” is interesting. Just a simple “add", then this person becomes your “friend”. I have over a thousand. But out of these friends, how many actually cared for me through my struggling times? Nada. None. Zero. Either the threshold level of “friend” is very low, or we’re kidding ourselves. I’d hope it’s the latter. Anyways, so what function do they serve? At best, they’re my audience. An audience I can boast to. Or, like my aforementioned friend, an audience to express my sadness to. Mostly to receive some passive supportive feedback (i.e. a “like”), or even some rebuke to which I can refute (we’re in the age of “you can’t invalidate my feelings”).  This is simply entertainment and distraction away from my actual life and worries. I shy away from these types of posts now. I prefer not to post of my struggles (like anyone could or tries to alleviate them) nor post of my success (like my recent promotion at work – yet I’ll make an exception for family to whom I want to share pivotal moments, like my college graduation). I prefer instead to pose questions and ask for opinions. This is the best I can receive from my Facebook friends. Sometimes, some opinions are actually helpful.

2. Say I did reach out to this person. Perhaps I “liked” the post to commiserate and show solidarity. Perhaps I went a little further and wrote sympathetic reply to the post. What did I accomplish? I can write pretty words. And I even meant the words that I wrote. But as soon as I scroll down on the feed, my mind is elsewhere. Elsewhere amidst my other thousands of friends. My old friend becomes just another post lost in my working memory. Perhaps an afterthought over dinnertime. I don’t think my reply really helped my friend. I think all it did was help me: I received my maximum on investment. I spent the less amount of effort and received the most amount I could receive in value – the thought that “I’m a good caring person”. I also diminished any feelings of guilt that I would have had if I ignored my friend. We’re feeding ourselves again (see previous post). How self-serving of me. And the scary thing is I most likely wouldn’t have even known that I was being self-serving. Even scarier, I can do the same routine over and over again to other “friends” reaping all the return at a minimum.

3. Of course, 1 and 2 are moot if I actually cared more about the other person than myself. I can use Facebook to lift others up instead of myself. This requires me to go beyond what the other 84 likers are doing. This requires me to connect to that person whom I choose to connect to. To physically do more than just type on a computer screen. To call up my old friend and actually offer tangible help besides a Facebook post. You see, often times atheists would criticize religious for offering “prayers”. Yet, this charade of investing little effort and receiving maximum return on Facebook is in effect the same thing: offering little help to the person in need while actually serving myself and downplaying any guilt. Support is helpful, you say? Sincere solidarity is a good thing? ... You might as well have said a prayer. I would have preferred the prayer. 

We feed

We feed ourselves. We feed ourselves full.
In fact, more often than not, we overfeed ourselves.
We're gluttonous.
But much worse with rhetoric than with food.

How much we prefer familiarity than the unknown. It's like our survival instinct is going against us: we're too afraid to be wrong. No one wants to be wrong. No one wants to even consider it. Maybe they'll think of it for a second. But arguments, the most important ones, are dynamic, changing, and need a lot of time and evidence to adequately discern (this of course is subjective -- we can't be too sure, yes, and we can definitely be too ignorant).

I remember a priest who once criticized another priest who was also an exorcist. To the priest, the exorcist seemed to always see the devil everywhere, the devil's hand in everything. The priest claimed the exorcist could no longer make sensible comments, since the glasses through which the exorcist saw the world was always colored by his specialist as an exorcist.

But what if the exorcist was right?

Yes, some people are stuck playing the victim, never taking the blame. One could say they never take any responsibility. Yes, some people are proudly, arrogantly selfish -- they actually think they made it all by themselves.

Oh when worldviews collide.

Perhaps the winner, like in poker, is the one who simply shows the most aggression.