Welcome to Bizarro World

I have spent the last few years convinced that I am living in Bizarro World. I am constantly amazed and taken aback by what goes on in today’s world, specifically what passes for excellence and competence. There are people in this society who have become iconic. The same people would have been laughed at, ignored, or ridiculed 50 years ago. Mediocrity seems to be the order of the day.

The closer I look at the situation, the more that I am convinced that there is nothing wrong with the world. The problem lies with me. The general attitude of anti-intellectualism and mediocrity results from our antiquated and corrupt educational system, cultural malaise, and general apathy. I can’t participate in our society on this level because my instincts and my education (both in and out of the classroom) won’t allow me to identify with the general trend.

Anyone who sees the inconsistencies or weaknesses in the structure of what is going on is out of sync with the way things are meant to function. When most people see an impenetrable network of disparate, complex situations, I see a bunch of holes in the system. Where most people see unsolvable problems, I see opportunities to apply simple solutions that could improve everyone’s total quality of life. In other words, the world (consensus reality) functions as it was designed to function. I don’t fit. I am the Bizarro.

Although I don’t fit, I have no plans to distort myself to go with the current flow. I like myself as I am. I like who I am becoming. I just don’t like my current reality. My goal is to throw out the loser script and start living the winner script. I think the biggest key for me is laughing at life and not taking everything so seriously, or at least not feeling like life is out to get me.

Somewhere in all of this I have forgotten how funny life is. People are funny. Watching people pretend to know what they are doing is especially hilarious. Catching myself doing it is even funnier. Ultimately, I think that we are all making this thing up as we go along, like some super-genius, incredibly complex piece of performance art. I am slowly beginning to realize that how much of this experience is a ridiculous illusion. I still haven’t decided whether being able to see through that illusion is a blessing or a curse. Either way, embracing the comedy instead of the tragedy should make the ride a bit more pleasant and a little more fun.
I get the joke again, even if it is on me.

In the Company of Good Friends

The longer I stumble around on this small, backward planet, the more amazed I am at how fulfilling simple things are. Good music, walks, and sunshine are constantly reinforcing themselves as some of the greatest things in life. Whenever I can, I put on my headphones and head out for a long walk. It continuously amazes me how easily a long walk can improve my attitude and brighten my day.

The same goes for spending time with real friends. There is nothing like enjoying drinks and a good meal with a true friend, even more so when you don’t get to see your friends that often. I say all of this because I was able to hang out with some good friends over the past week and a half.
The first was a friend from way back in my middle and high school days. I hadn’t seen her in a few years. So when I was invited to a surprise 40th birthday party for her, I had to go. Some of my old anti-social tendencies reared their ugly little heads, but I successfully ignored them. And as much as I hate hanging out with folks from high school, it was great to see her and some of the other people who were there.

The second bit of hanging out that I did was going to the local pro basketball game. I took my daughter, her mother, and a good friend with me. The idea was to take my daughter to her first game, and afterward, send her and her mother home and hang out with my friend.

Fortunately, everything went according to plan. My daughter had fun even though she didn’t get any of the souvenirs that were being launched into the crowd. I went to a restaurant with my friend and had beer and seafood and had a great time just letting off steam.

Finally, a good friend was in town a couple of weeks ago. He was doing his usual high flying, but he was able to land for long enough to spend some time shooting the shit with me. We ended up having drinks and a great meal at one of the best restaurants in town. Afterward we clowned some old friends and laughed for a long time.

Today I don’t have anything clever or profound to write. All I have is the observation that spending time with people I care about is one of the most valuable and wonderful things that I get to experience in this life.

Rules of the Game

I used to be an avid chess player. (more proof that I am a nerd/geek) I was on the chess team. My senior year of high school, we won the state chess tournament and went to the nationals. Needless to say, I have a real appreciation for the game and its strategies. Chess is one of the things that can easily provide anyone with several lifetimes of study.

A couple of months ago I stumbled upon an online video of a guy named Michael Tsarion. This guy is a conspiracy researcher. Since I was in the mood to see some paranoid stuff, I watched him talk. While I can’t remember his specific subject, he did leave me with a very valuable lesson on strategy. It was like Sun Tzu in a convenient capsule form.

I do remember that Tsarion was talking about the cabal that (according to him) runs the world – New World Order, Illuminati, CFR, Bilderbergers, Rockefellers, whoever. He framed his observations of their workings in terms of chess. And immediately my ears perked up. He said that these people had four major points of philosophy that they live and work by. They are:

1. Know yourself
2. Know the enemy / competition
3. Have infinite patience
4. Make any sacrifice necessary to win

All chess and conspiracy theory aside, these meta-strategies (I just made that word up.) look like the keys to succeed at anything. I really don’t see any way to make these any simpler or more comprehensive.

Every now and then I think about this as a guide to live by and to use as a framework around which to build my success. I have a long way to go and a lot of work to do on myself to even get close to using these tenets to their maximum potential.

Nobody (Who Really Matters) Cares

Some of my old hang-ups have recently begun to rear their ugly heads. I am finally beginning to honestly deal with them. I realize that it is time to work through my issues; otherwise I would just be fooling myself about achieving some type of real, personal growth. It also doesn’t hurt that their manifestations aren’t as intense or serious as they once were.

I have never wanted to admit it, but I care on some level about appearances and expectations – things which I have often professed mean nothing in the long run. I have always played that part of my personality off. Yet, for some reason, it still matters what others think of me. Maybe I am still something of a perfectionist or an elitist. I can’t really call it. I just know that it is there.

I have always played it cool and aloof (or so I thought). Oftentimes, I have been really standoffish, so much so that it has probably affected or even ruined potentially good relationships. It has probably made me seem pretty goofy.

Anyway, the latest manifestation cropped up a couple of weeks ago. I was invited to an old friend’s surprise 40th birthday party. I accepted the invitation even though I hate hanging out / being around people with whom I went to high school. (I just hate most of that really awkward, weird period of my life. But who doesn’t.)

I was overly concerned with the car that I was driving (along with my current low maintenance hairstyle, my living arrangements, and my financial status). The car is old and not in the best shape. It, however, does what is important: it gets me around safely. Nonetheless, I parked it around the corner so that no one would see it. As irrational and unnecessary as it was, that’s what I did.

Surprise, surprise!! Nobody cared; just like nobody cares about it anywhere I go. And, deep down, I know this. The old affectations and stupidity kicked in and threatened to ruin a nice afternoon.

Over the last few years, I have taken a lot of cheap shots from the little (minded) people in my life. All of them have curiously high expectations of me and of what I can do for them. Even more curious is the fact that none of them have done anything or have offered to do anything for me. Combine that with my being at a real low point and my old hang-ups and you get a guy whose (false) self image has taken a real beating.

The thing that I have to keep reminding myself is that the opinions and things about which I occasionally stress myself out are really my own random assumptions and projections. They tell me that I am worried about the wrong things. When it comes down to it, the people that I consider important to me and worth my time don’t care about the things in my life. They care about me, not what I drive or whether I can afford the latest popular gadget.

The people who truly care have my back. And a lot of them are going through the same kind of stuff that I am experiencing. They keep me encouraged and I do my best to return the favor. So I figure that the best thing that I can do is ignore the idiots and my hang-ups and stick with the true friends.

My Grand Confession

I have decided to take a very bold step this year. I am not sure that I would have been willing to do this before I went through with all of this introspection and contemplation. I figure there is no sense in denying myself. Well anyway, here goes:

I am a geek, or a nerd, whichever you prefer. (I'm sure that at first glance I don't look like one.)

Now, people who read this and know me are probably saying: “Tell me something that I don’t know about you.” They are right. I wasn’t fooling anyone but myself. Somehow, I thought that maybe I could hide it, but that was just nonsense.

As I have reflected on my life, I have found a lot of things that point to my geekiness (if there is such a word). Here is a partial list of my nerdy activities for your general information and perverse entertainment.

• I read voraciously.
• I can actually use words like “voraciously” in a sentence.
• I read science fiction and fantasy. (Yes, I read Lord of the Rings.)
• The non-fiction that I read would twist the minds of most normal, non-nerd human beings.
• I collected comic books from age 12 to age 30.
• I was the fat kid in the orchestra who played bass violin. (I was really good and made All-State.)
• I am a trekkie. The latest movie was amazing.
• I excited by and drool over new technology.
• I went to academic summer programs during middle and high school. In other words, I went to school year-round, willingly.
• I love to learn.
• I went to elite, private universities.
• I made a living as a computer technician.
• I possess a large, internal storehouse of useless trivia, with which I can regale you at the drop of a hat.
• I am BLOGGING.

I don’t think that I need to list much more. All of those things individually or combined point directly to my nerdiness. The thing that has changed for me is my attitude toward being a geek. I used to think that being a geek would exclude me from doing things that the beautiful people do, like having girlfriends or going to clubs or owning a really nice car. I guess I tried to hide my nerdiness from the world. Again, I was only fooling myself.

Now, I am ready to face the world as I truly am and admit that I am a nerd. And that is good enough for me. (This does not mean that I will be hiking up my pants and snorting when I laugh like Steve Urkel.)

Doing for Dad

I have been taking lot of time to reflect on my relationship with my dad. I have come up with some observations of him and of how we interacted that have really made me step back from the mundane grind and have forced me to evaluate some basic things about myself. As I said in an earlier post, I will be putting a few of those thoughts in this blog. Here is one.

When Dad had his final stroke, he was confined to a wheelchair. He had no control over his right side and couldn’t do much for himself. He couldn’t do simple things like go to the bathroom by himself. And believe me he tried. He ended up on the floor a couple of times because he couldn’t stand using bed pans and waiting for people to clean him up.

Beginning when he went to the nursing home for rehab, I would give him a good clean shave every couple of days. Unlike the nursing home workers, I did it the right way – the way he taught me. I would put a hot cloth on his face to clean his face and loosen his beard. Then, I would put on the shaving cream and carefully give him a good, clean shave. I would finish by wiping off the excess shaving cream, putting another hot towel on his face, and then applying some witch hazel to his face.

When he couldn’t stand being in the nursing home, we brought him back to his apartment. Our responsibility went up exponentially. My sister took the lead; she was there almost all day, every day. I helped as much as I could. I helped by getting him onto the toilet. I would also get him into the shower to bathe him. I can tell you from experience that there is nothing pleasant about lifting a 200 + pound man and carefully moving him around when he can’t help you.

Women have beauty rituals that help them to maintain their sense of self and their self image. While not as recognized, men have grooming rituals that are essential to maintaining a sense of calm and normalcy. Just about any man out there will tell you that a shave and a hot shower can do wonders for your outlook.

I hope that what I was able to do for Dad made his last months more bearable. I hope that he was able to maintain a sense of dignity and a sense of himself even though he couldn’t do for himself. And, although helping him could be difficult and sometimes frustrating, at my core, I was glad to be there for him.

Maybe Most Old People Aren't All Full of It

I have spent the last few years writing off my parents’ generation, specifically due to the words and actions of five of my family members. They have shown a real lack of character, insight, and emotional intelligence in our interactions. They have spawned and perpetuated conflict in just about everything that they have done while denying any responsibility for all of the shit that they have stirred up. I have wrongly assumed that most members of that generation are the same as the above mentioned knuckleheads. In doing so, I have probably missed out on a lot of good interaction and advice. Three conversations and visits have helped to change my point of view, at least partially.

The first was with an uncle. I call him an uncle even though we are not related. He is as close to me and my family as any blood relative. I have known him all of my life. His son was one of my closest friends growing up. He and his family are some of the best people that I know. They know at a very profound and fundamental level what family is supposed to mean. This uncle is cool and not at all in an artificial or forced way. He is so cool that he doesn’t know how cool he is. He is always smiling and joking; he is great to be around.

Our conversation was nothing spectacular. He simply showed me some new renovations that he and my aunt were doing to their house. They have gone through several iterations of renovation, each to a different section and each enhancing the function and livability of their house. Nothing that they were doing was done to outdo their neighbors. Instead they were moving forward to take advantage of everything that they had to improve the quality of their lives. The changes that they were making reflected a kind of conscious evolution that is an expression of wisdom.

The second conversation was with another uncle. He came over a couple of days after my father died. (That is so hard to write.) I asked him some questions about his experiences because I am contemplating doing some things that he has already done. He gave me some good advice and related some of his experiences and mistakes.

Our conversation quickly turned to the relationship between our families. There have been periods of years where we didn’t interact. It wasn’t due to any personal animosity; instead it was due to conflict between my mother and his sister. We both knew that the silliness between them was unnecessary and shouldn’t have gone as far as it did to keep our families apart. It let me know that, for his part, he was ending it right there, even though it had nothing to do with him. I was glad for his words because I felt the same way.

The third conversation was with my older brother. Well, it wasn’t so much a conversation as a recapitulation of our earlier, disappointing interaction. My brother is the type of person who makes you want to beat his ass. When we went to Virginia to bury my cousin, he showed up drunk and stank. One of my cousin’s friends showed up and threatened to whip his ass if he embarrassed our family in public ever again. I really couldn’t object or jump in because I agreed with him.

When we went to Virginia to memorialize my dad, my younger brother and I stayed with my older brother at my cousin’s house. Of course, his demons and addictions were on full display. It was disgusting and embarrassing that he decided to act the way he did. We went and stayed with another cousin the second and third nights that we were there, mostly to keep from literally killing him.

My brother has spent his whole life – 50 years – defined by pain or anger or something. He can’t seem to let go of it all to free himself. His attitude and his actions have alienated everyone around him. His existence must be lonely. He is either looking to prove himself or he is looking for a fight. Whatever it is that he is looking for, I hope I am not around when he finds it. He is in for a world of hurt and I prefer not to be around to see it or to get caught up in it.

I relate all of this to say that I am going to do my best to stop generalizing about groups of people based on involuntary things like age. I am also going to stop extrapolating based on my experience with a few idiots. Maybe all baby boomers aren’t nuts and full of shit. My uncles have a lot of wisdom and positive examples to offer. What they have to offer has nothing to do with my narrow preconceptions.

Thoughts of My Dad

We had two funerals for my dad: one on Tuesday the 19th in Atlanta and then one on Friday the 22nd in Norfolk, VA where he grew up. On Saturday the 23rd, we spread his ashes into the ocean like he asked. He is probably somewhere mad that we spent a bunch of money buying food for the meals after his services. He would have said that we could have used the money to do something else. That is just how he was.

I have to leave a lasting tribute to him somewhere. I don't have the money right now to erect a monument or to get a building at a school named after him. Until I can do those things, I will put up the words that I said about him through my tears at his first service.

Eugene Tyler was a man. He was my dad.

There are a lot of ways and words that can be used to describe my dad. He could be funny or contrary, stoic or silly, cantankerous or reflective. He had charm, class, and definitely a lot of style. How many times can my siblings or I remember him telling us that we should be wearing dark socks with our slacks?

Dad definitely had a lot of pride without being prideful. No matter what was happening, he carried himself with a great amount of dignity. Throughout everything, he held his head up and didn’t let things become more than he could handle. Even when he was confined to a wheelchair, he never let it get the best of him.

Two words are most appropriate to me when I think of him: sincerity and sacrifice.

Dad was sincere. If you didn’t know where you stood with my dad, you either weren’t paying attention or you weren’t being honest with yourself. You always knew what he thought of you because there was no guile in him. He wasn’t afraid to tell you what he thought and why. Whether you were the President, the Pope, or anyone else, he would let you know. He always meant what he said. Every time he spoke, it was like he was giving his word.

Dad made sacrifice a habit. He was never hesitant to go without so that we could have the things that we needed. He would skip meals and sometimes not buy everything that he needed so that he could give us some money to help with a bill or take care of some pressing concern. It was second nature to him to give up his own pleasure to ensure that we were taken care of. Although I didn’t say it enough, I appreciated what he did for me. I think that we all did.

I will miss him. And I hope that I can develop enough wisdom to learn some lessons from his example.

Eugene Tyler was a man.

Eugene W. Tyler (6/17/1934 - 1/14/2010)

Today my father died. I really didn't expect it. He was confined to a wheelchair because he had two strokes last year, but there were no real signs that he would take an immediate turn for the worse.

My sister was with him when he went. I am glad she was there. It is most appropriate that she was with him. Of the four of us, she was the only girl. Her birthday is the day after his. They always had a special bond.

She had been primary in helping to deal with his everyday tasks because of his paralysis. I must say that I was really impressed with the way that she was taking care of business for him. I did as much as I could to help. None of us could have done any more than we did. I am wholeheartedly sure of that, if nothing else.

Over the next couple of posts, I am going to try to express some of the things that will always stick with me about him. Right now, I am just trying to get over the shock and maybe stop crying.

Eugene Tyler was a man - for real!

Eugene W. Tyler (6/17/1934 - 1/14/2010)

I Gotta Stop Saying I Gotta

It seems like every time that I try to fix things I get caught up in some mess. When I try to help people do things I get the short end of the stick. People talk about me bad. I just can’t win. And every time I end up in a bad position due to my altruism, the old phrase “no good deed ever goes unpunished” comes to mind.

I have spent a lot of time wondering why bad things happen when I try to do the “right thing.” I mean, it is the right thing. I was taught that the best thing to do when you see a problem is to try to solve it. As a “good” person, I should take responsibility for what goes on around me, right.

Or maybe this, like so many things that I grew up believing, just isn’t true. I think that all of this time, I have been overstepping my boundaries and interfering with the natural progression of events. Most of the things in which I have involved myself (unnecessarily) have been things which could just as easily have progressed or resolved without my interference.

Maybe it’s arrogance or pride, or a misplaced sense or justice that I picked up from watching too much television as a kid. Who knows? Regardless, I find myself saying that “I gotta do this” or “I gotta make this work.” Most of the time, I really don’t “gotta.”

I think I am a natural problem solver. I like finding resolutions or correct answers; it speaks to my meticulous and precise (dare I say perfectionist) nature. Some of the people in my circles have recognized that and taken advantage of that many times. They screw things up and leave them for me to fix. They don’t do this out of necessity or of some sense of reciprocity or out of fair play. They do it out of a criminal sense of entitlement. “I made a mess and you have to clean it up.” They know that my dumb/smart ass will swoop in to try to help matters and put out the fire.

I think that my actions in the long term have a destructive side. No one learns the lesson that will prevent future recurrences. I know that I haven’t learned because I keep getting caught up. I know that the sources of the problem haven’t learned either because they keep repeating their mistakes. There are no consequences, so why shouldn’t they keep doing stupid stuff. They don’t have to clean up after themselves.

I have recently spent time consciously restraining myself from jumping to the rescue. Hopefully my restraint will retrain me to let things happen as they will. Someone in my life committed to doing something that takes up all of their time, gives them no latitude to do anything else, and causes them stress and grief. I resolved that since they signed up for it, they should have to face the consequences, repercussions, and fallout of their commitment.

I talked to them about the situation. They said that the situation is getting out of hand and that they are going to have to find a better alternative. I simply told them that I had to let them see that this would happen. I also knew that I had to see it to know that it would eventually play out the way that it did. Fortunately, this time I was not the primary actor; I didn’t sustain a lot of punishment for my minor role in this situation.

Something struck me a couple of days ago. Whenever I enter into one of these situations, I talk about taking responsibility. In an oddball way, that phraseology may be the key to understanding my bad results. I am taking responsibility. Should I be taking the responsibility? Does it belong to me? Maybe the act of “taking” responsibility is, on some Karmic level, a criminal act. By interfering with the natural motion and flow of the Universe, I am disturbing some essential lesson being taught to the person who creates the problem that I want to solve.

Maybe my poor results are the Universe giving me a piece of the punishment meant for the other transgressors. I am just too stupid to get out of the way and let those who deserve punishment take it. It can be painful to watch someone hose themselves. But I am sure that watching is less painful than absorbing real punishment. I think that what I must do is be more mindful of what I step into. I have got to let things be as they are, let go of any false need to save the day and keep on moving.