A Life on Mars is my Gateway to Catharsis
To put it in lamest terms, lately I’ve found myself with an acute lack of inspiration to write anything worth reading. Looking back at it, I could attribute this resignation with being tired from taking care of Porto and all the wonderful things he does, or recent work troubles, or somewhat personal issues; maybe it’s all of the above. Of course, since it’s in my nature as a writer to be an observer of human behavior, I find myself more interested in how other people’s actions (or lack thereof) affect me. If you’re looking for an informative piece on Panama or Panamanians and how they operate, I guess you’ll find something worth taking with you in this piece. If you want to read the musings of a jaded columnist with some snark and hilariously bitter social commentary, you’ll get a kick out of this joint. If you’re looking for news, get the fuck out of my porch.
My solar system of friends is special. Sure, I guess anyone could say the same thing about their own circle of trust, but in recent months I’ve found myself in a special series of circumstances that, to put it bluntly, psych me the fuck out. It’s the kind of thing that test my connections with my friends in how much complications you can attach to them. For someone who loathes things getting complicated this presents a problem for me, but then again to ask people to keep things simple (stupid) is kind of like spitting against the wind: in the end you end up with a loogie splattered all over your face and you feel stupid for even thinking it’d go any other way than it always does. Complications. Complication is the mother of drama, and if there’s a universal truth out there is that, no matter who you are or what you think about it, people love themselves some drama in their lives. Be it in their own lives, by proxy or on third parties, we love, and love to hate, it when things get complicated.
I was watching “Life on Mars,” a great TV show in both its English and American incarnations, and in it there’s this one character, a hard-boiled, down-to-earth cop who on the final episode breaks down life on this planet after kicking back one too many whiskeys. To him, we are living on a rock. No rhyme. No reason. Just a rock, one of many other rocks floating around this cosmic mess. Since we’re living on this rock, instead of wondering about why we’re here or who put us here and for what reason, we should instead worry about accomplishing something that is, surprisingly, impossible for many: find a few of other sappy souls that you can somehow relate to in order to make life on this rock a wee bit more palatable and stick to them for as long as you possibly can, because odds are you’re so messed up that finding others to share your wavelength with is ridiculously difficult. In my 25 years of age (as of this writing) I feel that I’ve found said group of individuals and hopefully I’ll be able to write about them ten, thirty, or fifty years from now. What I’ve become worried about, as of late, is that I’m currently at odds with that.
I’ve said this many times before and this is no different: there are as many definitions for intangible things as there are people on this planet. What love is to me can be different for you, and so on. Friendships fall into this definition as well. What constitutes a “friend?” How do you know you’re talking to a friend and not an acquaintance, lover, or stranger? Can we confuse ourselves? What about friends who are lovers, acquaintances that consider you their friend, and so on? It’s easy to get confused when we complicate things by applying labels. Then again, labels help people keep things in order, and I understand their utility when it comes to people; it’s not like a stapler can be a pen, and vice versa. The label of a “friend,” no matter how you decide to define it, is done so with a certain set of guidelines that allows you to differentiate a friend from an acquaintance or a lover. It’s clean, clear and should make things simple, in theory. In practice, though, I believe it makes things more complicated; what if you feel attracted to your friend? Swapping labels is not an easy thing to do because it disturbs the peace and simplicity that the label system brings. If things get complicated when we upset the system by implying the idea of change, then, it’s no surprise to me that so many people are afraid of it. Many are terrified of it. So, as a result, things rarely change. It’s why I see so many couplings that have gone way past the expiration date still together: it’s comfortable, and since it’s already established it’s somehow easier to ignore the problems than to change things, at the cost of your own happiness. In that same token, so many people are afraid to start new relationships because of the changes that it brings in their day-to-day lives. I don’t know much about many things, but that sounds not only restricting, but also pretty fucking complicated to me.
Applied to my own circle of friends, I cannot escape the evil shadow of complication no matter how pro-active I become to eradicate it. At times I feel that resistance is futile, and for that I’ve adopted a carefree attitude about mostly everything; you can’t drag someone who doesn’t care into your web of complication, because it feeds on affection. In order to complicate things, you need to care. If that wasn’t the case, it’d be ridiculously easy to stand up and walk away from complicated situations, places, people or circumstances; since we care about them though, we stick around. Some people take advantage of that. Ever felt someone you care about was getting the best of you? It could be a friend who only calls you when he/she needs something or that friend who you’ve always had a soft spot for and takes advantage of that so that they themselves don’t feel lonely? These don’t really fall into one single label. Do the label guidelines say that you can slap more than one for every person? For a system that supposedly champions simplicity it can get pretty complicated and quickly. The problem here is not the system, though. Systems are designed to make things simpler, but it’s the users that end up making them more complicated, creating unnecessary drama where there shouldn’t be. Ahh. If Complication is the mother of drama, then People are this baby’s daddy.
Why do people feel the need to complicate their lives like this, then? I’ve asked myself this question many times, and in the end I need look no further than myself since the bottom line is that, like me, we all want to be in control of what’s happening. The problem is that unlike using a computer, studying for a test or controlling your impulses, other people are vying for control as much as you are. No one likes to be the one that gets controlled, and when someone presents themselves representing a change, or somehow rips control away from another by being irresistible in some way, people usually freak out, get scared or bump back. In the end it’s nothing more than a silly, complicated mess. And when things get complicated, many people’s minds get cluttered and they don’t think correctly. As far as simplifying things go, tilting out is about the last thing you want to fucking do.
So, why can’t people just go with the flow? The question of giving up control is the Voldemort of interpersonal relationships, or so it would seem. Nobody wants to say it, touch it and much less do it. Why? Why is it so hard? In the end, I like to think it’s a matter of trust. The quintessential benchmark of every connection you can have with someone else that’s worth a damn. Without trust, we’ve got nothing. It should be hard-earned, and should be held with responsibility when someone gives said gift to you; in that same token, you should expect that those you bestow your trust upon can appreciate the monumental amount of faith you give them by giving them access to one of the kindest and most selfless acts people can give while living on this rock of ours. Because when you trust someone, really, truly trust someone, you give up control and hand some of it to them. It’s the ability of someone being able to tell you to not do something or do another without any explanation and you’ll do what they ask because of who they are and what they’ve come to represent in your life. Total control. It’s a beautiful thing, but most see it as a dangerous thing so there’s rarely ever 100% trust in most people’s lives, I’ve come to see. I say this because in this day and age, and more so with social networking sites and the internet I rarely see people taking chances, or leaps of faith. I think that in many cases they can’t even trust themselves to take them. Are we that fucked up that we can’t even trust our own instincts? It would seem that many are so afraid to trust, or rather take control of themselves because it’s so unbelievably scary to do so that they’d rather stay where they are. Perhaps the changes would be too overwhelming. Perhaps they’re not ready for the changes. Perhaps they’re cowards. Perhaps they want to take the chance, but they need someone to push them. Preferably someone they can trust, but how can a person that can’t even trust themselves trust someone else? This whole complicated shit’s giving me a complicated headache.
All of this jive talk was so that I could get to this very point. I’m going to talk to you directly. Yes, you. Dear reader, friend, lover, hater and all the possible combinations you can muster out of those options. I’ll trust that you’ve gotten this far because you’re interested in what I have to say, so I will honor it by being blunt and honest. Frankly, I don’t care how you live your life. It’s yours and you can waste it any way you see fit, but I will tell you this:
From my experience, labels are stupid. They restrict you. They prevent you from being free. I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want to be your lover. I don’t want to be your acquaintance, or best friend, or boss, or non-boyfriend. I want to be Robert. It’s the first label I ever got, and that should be fucking enough for you. I don’t know how you deal with other people, but when it comes to me I want to kindly ask you to be simple, stick to what’s in your heart and cut the bullshit. No secrets. No lying, to me or to yourself. Be who you truly are, and don’t you dare let your fear restrain you from enjoying our connection to its full potential. Odds are I’ll love you and I’ll trust you if you can get rid of your shackles. If you want me, fucking take me. If you hate me, you make sure I know so, loud and clear. If you love me, I can always use a hug. If you’re a coward, then trust me and I’ll push you to the things you want to do and be. I am tired of seeing you drown yourself in your own bathwater, wondering “what if?” while you fool yourself into thinking one thing when you clearly feel another. I’m sick and tired of watching you trying to fool yourself into something you’re uncomfortable with. Something you’re not fully content with. If it has to do with me, don’t fucking settle. If you want change, do it. Grow a pair. I left high school a long time ago, and I still can’t fucking believe that to this day I have to put up with your downright moronic fear of living. I love you. I trust you, and you can count on that because every time I write to you, I let you peek into my soul; whether you have realized that fact or not, it still breaks my battered heart that you can’t bring yourself to trust me, just to avoid any complications. It’s sad, and it paralyzes me. If you want control, fucking take it; I trust you, so I couldn’t care less about it. I’m tired of techniques, methods or plans of action to take for you to see this. I’m tired. So tired of it.
If there’s anything you should pick up from this piece, dear reader, is that complications will be the end of us. Fear will be the end of us. And when we’re in this rock without rhyme or reason spinning around in a cosmic mess, a rock where it’s so hard to find people we can truly connect with, stopping on your tracks because of fear and/or complications is not only childish, but a downright stupid thing to do. Now, get the fuck out of my porch and live.
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