My Last Words: A Bedtime Story

The pictures from our younger days are always so embarrassing

Dear Young Photos,

This might be my final post. Any moment now, according to a certain portion of the Christian community, Judgment Day will be upon us. Had I realized that The End of Times was fast approaching I might not have been so cavalier about my decision to conceive and raise a child. I am so so sorry. In my defense, part of the reason your mother and I were caught unawares is really part and parcel with the eponymous judgment we're possibly about to receive.

See, humans have spent a lot of time and energy trying to understand life. Questions like how did we get here? and what does it mean? have proved particularly vexing. Despite great strides in science to identify ideas like evolution, Big Bangs, and natural selection, our research falls far short of providing a real nice meaty answer. As far as we can tell: before there was nothing, and now there is everything.

So where did everything come from?

In short, a lot of people think it came from God.

The idea of God is complex and has undergone many changes over the years, but the basic idea is always there—God is an invisible and all-powerful boss and you really need to follow His (and in some cases Her, and in some cases Their) rules because, despite being able to build planets and oceans, He/She/They cannot control what we think, and this just irks them to no end.

God's rules are also somewhat in flux depending on who you ask, and this is a real hot-button issue throughout history. Countries invade each other, slaughtering their people, more or less because they disagree about who God is. It happens over and over. The thing is, in all that time no one has ever really turned up any evidence to sway the public once and for all. It's an argument with no end in sight.

Why, you may ask, does God not just appear and set the record straight? Would we not welcome his omniscience into our lives, especially since Oprah is about to go off the air? You would not be the first to wish for this. It would certainly settle a lot of bets.

In God's absence, humans continue to hope and have faith that He/She/They is/are out there, and they organize groups that get together and go over the details of what they think God wants from us. They call them religions.

It's a nice idea really, to look back and discuss ideas, to lay out guidelines for proper interpersonal conduct, to form the foundations of a like-minded community. What I personally do not like is the rigidity of most religions (see above mention of slaughter). Even though there are many religions, often with many overlapping concepts, each religion claims to have the straight poop on God. There is often a subtext of I-am-right-and-you-are-wrong between the groups. But, since no one really knows anything, I find their insistence intolerable and silly. Mostly I avoid the topic and mind my own business.

Oh, but my young child, I can't be let off the hook so simply. The religious groups saw me coming. Built right into their beliefs (in many cases revealed from a source close to God) is the caveat that you kind of have to believe, or at least you are strongly advised to do so. If you do not, it is not taken as an act of free will to bravely question authority. You are not seen as "philosophical" by most. No, there are words for people like me--heretic, infidel, poor lost sheep. And it's not enough to pity or accuse me of wrongdoing. My beliefs cannot be chalked up as confusion or a simple mistake. According to believers, to not believe, Young Photos, is pretty much the worst thing you can ever do. It means if and when Judgment Day arrives we will be in big big trouble.
...

In this country the majority of us are known as Christians. Christians vary in their beliefs, but they all concur that God is a masculine spirit, that he created the Universe in one week, and he lives in a kingdom in the sky called Heaven which is just a really great place. And of course there was the time he caused a virgin to give birth to his son. This man, God's son, is called Jesus Christ.

Jesus, as historical figures go, is fairly important. He is so important that just by being born he caused the western world to reset their calendars to differentiate the dull and terrible time before he was born from the wonderful and enlightened time since his birth. He is so wonderful that his birthday is in many ways an even better holiday than your own. For one thing, some of the most beautiful music ever written was in observance of his birthday. I cannot say the same thing for the off-key mewling that will occur just before you blow out your candles.

It is this Jesus fellow that is the real key to modern Christianity. Before he arrived, God was pretty hands on; he was smiting folks and telling people to murder their first-borns and flooding the planet because he didn't like the direction it was heading. If you read the Old Testament, God is actually pretty terrifying, so it could have been doubly bad when he decided suddenly to have children.

But Jesus turned out to be a pretty cool guy. He preached nonviolence and love and acceptance; he healed the sick and fed the hungry and he even brought a dead person back to life before we knew about CPR. But his real coup de grace is that he let a bunch of Romans nail him to a large wooden pole, an act of selflessness of which we are still feeling the effects.

These effects concern the fate of our souls. The soul is a tricky concept but it is similar to the mind in some ways, the main difference being that it goes on thinking and feeling and stuff after you're dead--an important difference because your mind may only be around for 100 years at most, but your soul goes on forever. Christians believe when you die, if you are Christian, your soul ascends to Heaven where it remains alongside God in eternal ecstasy, while your body is stored in the ground until it is exhumed to make space for condos.

Christians also believe that if you aren't Christian, you cannot get in to Heaven. And let me be clear, there is no wiggle room on this. It's like Costco: you're either a member, or you have to go somewhere else. They don't give you a pass for being a super nice guy and always doing the right thing. You have to believe. Even if you're a fairly good person that was not raised as a Christian, or you're a well-read intellectual sort that asks a lot of questions about literacy and translation, or you're weirded out by the amount of wars and persecutions and molestations that have occurred under the flag of Christianity and can't at this late stage possibly see how it can be real, well, off you go.

And that's really it. It's beautiful in its simplicity (if a bit churlish. After all, why does God—a man that created the Universe—and his relatives need our acceptance so desperately?).

The real bummer is your soul still has to go somewhere. So, instead of going to Heaven, if you're a nonbeliever your soul will go to Hell, which is a place of permanent suffering and torture, again, like Costco.

For obvious reasons, I'm glossing over a lot of things, but the point is that, up until today, we humans have always been able to live out our lives, so to speak. We would have the entirety of our lives to sort of weigh our options and decide whether or not to repent and accept Christ, an act that is effectively stamping our ticket to Heaven or Hell.

What is different about today is that today is (possibly) the cutoff line. A group of Christians believe that Judgment Day has arrived. They believe this because of a prophecy in the Old Testament that says the world shall end several thousand years after The Great Flood, and according to one man's math that day is today. (Of course, he also thought the world was going to end in 1994, but hey, we all make mistakes.)

It is thought that, on Judgment Day, Christ himself will return to Earth to summon the souls of the believers to Heaven, an act known as The Rapture, and imagined by me to resemble the tractor beam that sucks humans into flying saucers. After The Rapture, the rest of the people of Earth (including all the plants, animals, and stuff the believers used to own) will remain here to perish and just make a royal mess of things.

According to an article in the New York Times, "Nonbelievers will endure five months of plagues, quakes, famine, and general torment before the planet's total destruction in October." (Honestly though, minus the Christians, you might just as easily be describing pre-Rapture Earth).
...

As a nonbeliever, it was pretty surprising to find a story about the end of the world on the front page of the paper, especially since I only read elite liberal media.

But what should I think? How am I supposed to know? Is it best to just throw a hail mary to Jesus in the event that The Rapture is real? And, if so, wouldn't he see through it as a feint to save my soul's neck? In other words, isn't it already too late?

At this point, two things can happen. First, the world really could end and I'll be super pissed that I spent my last hours wiping geriatric asses for $9.50 an hour. Second, the world will keep right on chugging, some of the believers will die of embarrassment, and a certain REM song will have enjoyed its best week of airplay in quite some time. (Sing it with me now: Leo-nard-Bern-stein!)

Honestly, I don't think the world is about to end, so I'm not all that concerned. Then again, I do believe the world will end at some point, so maybe today really is the day. All I can do is wait and watch my Facebook feed for updates like Erin has suddenly developed leprosy.

One reason (but certainly not the only reason) I'm not worried is because we've lived through Doomsday prophecies before. On the eve of the new millennium we thought that a massive computer crash was destined to bring about total financial/societal collapse. (This event was known as Y2K, and it amounted to little more than a programming glitch on the scale of a digital clock at Daylight Savings Time. The world didn't even come close to ending, despite the fact that I'd just been dumped by my girlfriend of two years for no discernible reason and really, in a way, wished it would have). These portentious predictions are happening all the time. In fact, if this Doomsday doesn't take there's another one scheduled next year!

So, why do people so desperately want the world to end? Why are they quitting their jobs and spending their life savings to spread the word? And why do they seem so pleased about it?

I think it's an ego thing; these people believe that they're the chosen ones who will witness the destruction of humanity, that they are the last people to live here, like the Earth couldn't possibly go on without them. They don't consider the gajillions of people before that felt the same way. They don't consider that they're just ordinary and the human race will outlast even the memory of them.

Anyway, I hope they approach life with a bit more humility if it turns out they're wrong. Still, there's an outside chance this is it. I confess that I woke up in the middle of the night and, laying there in the dark, became gripped with the fear that they'd been right and the sun had burned out. I was afraid to look at the clock lest it should confirm a late hour without any light. It would be pretty awful. And what really sucks is that here, at last, is the proof I have been hoping for. Finally Christ gives me something I can hang my hat on. Only, by then I've missed the ferry. I will not be allowed to reap the rewards of my convictions. The Real Christians will be gone already, sent to Heaven to laugh and sing and enjoy the heck out of the afterlife, and I'll be here with everyone else trying not to get killed by roving gangs and hoping I freeze to death.

Long story short, my son, the world you are born into may not be such a great place and I can't help but feel responsible. I wish I had planned ahead more thoroughly and considered whether the planet would still be intact on your due date. I am not clear on the policy for entry to Heaven concerning those born after the apocalypse, but it seems unlikely that you'll have the wherewithal to accept Christ at three months. Maybe they make exceptions for tiny babies, even if your soul's brain is still too undeveloped to be able to remember or appreciate how much fun Heaven is.

Goodnight my child. I'll see you in Hell, if not the morning.

I Saved Latin. What Did You Ever Do?

2000-2009: Worked on my new movie, "Dances with Wolves in Space"

This past decade constitutes the latter 33% of my life. It felt long and difficult, but also breathtakingly brief depending on how I focus the time line. I made some life-altering decisions, faced demons (the psychological kind, not the cool ones), and in many ways it was just as formative a time as childhood. Certainly I continue to work through some of the changes that took place. If you care, here is a rundown of my post-college life:

2000
The new decade started without a bang. The world waited for the unseen havoc of Y2K to topple governments and financial districts,* whiskey bottles in hand. I remember feeling worried, but I do not remember making any preparations besides dressing like the narrator in Fight Club, you know, in case.

Of course, nothing happened and I stayed out all night dressed like a waiter and feeling sorry for myself since I had been dumped a few days prior by my girlfriend of several years.

Things improved. I completed my undergraduate program on time; my girlfriend took me back; most notably I got into graduate school at the Art Institute of Chicago. For the first time in my life I would leave the cold, damp arms of Ohio.

I arrived in Chicago with my parents towing a horse-trailer full of my stuff. I had about 40 dollars. Fortunately, the city was good to me. I enrolled in courses called "French Cinema: Nouvelle Vague" and "The History of Whiteness," and began to see exactly how little I understood about anything.

I met Leah, (my roommate at the time), who is a wonderful friend and who I don't think ever charged me for utilities. I also met Darby, a tough-looking gal who took me to some thrift stores. By November, my already-fragile relationship with my then-current girlfriend had disintegrated like a bong rip. I began dating Darby, and my crush was total.

2001
Completing the remainder of my first year of grad school went off without incident. The big event occurred on June 1 when Darby and I moved our collective belongings to an apartment on the far north side where we planned to co-habitate.

The very next day Darby and I boarded a plane for England. We spent three weeks shuttling between cities all over Europe. If there were feelings of nervousness about our domestic plans, I think an extended vacation was a good way to shelve them. Fortunately the trip seemed to solidify our relationship, and I still refer to it as our honeymoon.

Not long afterward I began working at a veterinary hospital. I mentioned wanting to get a cat, so Darby wasn't too upset when I came home with two. Besides, they hid under the bed for about three days. When they came out she could see we had two of the fattest, nappiest cats that ever lived. However, it's mean to criticize orphans.

Very shortly after this, Darby's beloved dog Mable died. Mable was the sweetest dog, but she also viewed me very much as an interloper, specifically as it pertained to who was allowed to sleep in the bed and who had to sleep on the floor. Still, it was a tragic day for our family and as intelligent people, we dealt with our sudden loss by getting a puppy.

Reflecting on this, I remember feeling pretty overwhelmed by the sudden upswing in animals I needed to care for. It created a bit of resentment at times, but I grew to love Josie. On the other hand, she is still wary of me.

I would be remiss if I did not mention the attacks of September 11. I will not try to elucidate these events, and I will try not to be sentimental, but I should say that this day had permanent effects on me. I watched television for 13 hours as parts of Manhattan burned to the ground. I listened to first-person accounts and watched videos sent in by New Yorkers.** Suddenly the French New Wave didn't seem quite so important. With all the health care workers, police and firefighters involved, this is the first time I remember thinking about not being an artist.

2002
I completed graduate school with no job prospects and very little direction. Net gain: -$50,000.

I took the first month after school to relax and live off of my savings. This is also the time in which I began drinking heavily, going to bars with friends several nights a week. Getting my first job out of school was little deterrent; I found it easy to frame art on four hours of sleep.

That fall I was offered my first teaching job at my prestigious alma mater. The whole reason I went to grad school was to become a teacher, and I was terribly excited. Of course, one semester of actually teaching cured me of this right quick, (see above net gain).

I also had my first and last solo exhibition, which I enjoyed even less than teaching.*** At the age of 23 I was ready to start my second career. Despite my sorry futures, Darby agreed to marry me.

2003
In January, W declared war on Iraq. I did not agree with his decision, and after seeking approval it turns out that the rest of world didn't either. Nevertheless, the United States invaded a country on the grounds of suspicious boogeymen and state-of-the-art-but-invisible weaponry. Were there more widespread support for the so-called war on terror I may have been able to accept this maneuver. Without it though, I felt our country had been made to seem like the bully of the world, and I was embarrassed to be an American. This marks the first time in which I have hated my president.

Much of the early part of this year was spent planning our wedding. I like to think of myself as easy-going with simple taste, but the topic of napkin color and menu planning can transform a person. Suddenly I found myself arguing about things like the order of songs on our "wedding soundtrack." Most of the time our spirits were high, but it also caused quite a few blowouts. Anyone who is planning a wedding should take heart that they are passing a test—if you get to the wedding day and you still want to marry this person, you have chosen well. And anyone who can get through the planning stages can survive a marriage—it is much more stressful than the average spat over alleged gambling or embezzlement.

Despite these trials, we both showed up and said our vows, after which my grandma said, "Those were some pretty tough promises you made..."

To celebrate we spent three days and three nights in beautiful Milwaukee. (That is not a joke. We were very, very poor).

Ever since, Darby's family has become a part of my life too, welcoming me into their home and treating me with great respect and generosity, and helping Darby and I through some tough times in past several years. Thank you again, Sharon and Fred.

The only other thing I can remember from this year was my return to the two-wheeler. It is said that one never forgets how to ride a bike, and I found it to be true. That said, I was never what one would call a careful biker,**** and the time away didn't improve this. Twelve inches from the ground, I felt frightened and vulnerable. However, it didn't take long before my confidence grew and I was darting between traffic. My decision to bike, which seemed small at the time, is probably one of the most important I've made, and all before it was cool to be quote-unquote green.

2004-06
I lump these together for several reason. For one thing, this piece which began as a list is starting to run long. For another, these years are so thematically similar that it is difficult to distinguish them. That said, a few momentous things did occur.

After 86 years the Red Sox won the series. While I am not strictly a Red Sox fan, many of my favorite players spent their careers in Boston, and I have always rooted for their team. As a moment in baseball history to have lived through, it is hard to top the improbable comeback against the Yankees.

Speaking of improbable comebacks, this nation also re-elected one George W. Bush. Honestly, I have never felt so alienated in my life, and I was part of the gifted and talented program in elementary school. I was literally depressed the day after and I didn't go to work in the morning.

More personally, this is also the time period when Darby is first diagnosed with some medical problems, setting off a chain reaction of bills, investigations of fraud, and ultimately a deep hole of debt.

Of course, this is also the year in which I begin to work for Marie, a local artist. Her company, Creamco, which employed nine of us, was undoubtedly the most amazing job I have ever held. It is also a huge reason that the years run together for me in this way. I worked steadily for almost three years, all the while earning a great wage and setting my own hours. To put it mildly, it was a mindfuck. But that is a much longer story. Suffice it to say that I was given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I sort of squandered it. Ah, well. I was in my mid-20s and not too clear on where I was heading. Giving me more time to be directionless didn't help. At any rate, I am extremely thankful for my time there. Many good friendships were forged, and I am sure it will make a good book one day.

Overall though, these were dark times for me. I continued to drink a lot. I dabbled in a few business relationships, as did Darby, but this only seemed to drive us further into debt. I felt adrift. My depression was becoming more unpredictable and irregular, rather than being seasonal (winter, the Cubs). I was not making any art whatsoever and my diaries at this time are self-loathing rants about wasted potential. I was becoming a fine chess player though.

Fed up, I decided to become a firefighter. I trained hard and bulked up, eventually passing the physical exam, which is basically an adult obstacle course. Sadly, there were just not a lot of positions available. In many cases, even if you are accepted, you can sit on a waiting list for 5 years before you are called. I felt discouraged once more.

2007
The next year showed very few signs of improvement and in April we received some crushing news. To cover our medical expenses, I was working more hours at Creamco. Due to my increased earnings, our taxes were through the roof. I won't bore you with details about independent contract work and home/office write-offs. Let me just say that we suddenly owed a LOT more than we had. Of course, the only solution was to work even more, which would only exacerbate the dilemma. Faced with huge trouble from the IRS, we devised a plan—we would cast about a wide net for new jobs; we would go wherever we had to to earn more money and spend less. And that is how we came to choose Albuquerque.

I was very sad to leave Chicago. I lived there for almost 8 years, and I considered it home. Many of my friends from school had since moved away, but it still had a community of art friends, great restaurants, the Cubs, and it is fairly close to our families. I felt excited to do something new, but I really knew nothing about New Mexico beyond what Wikipedia had to say.

I spent three weeks packing our belongings while Darby went out ahead of me to start her job and find us an apartment.***** When I arrived, I saw she had done well. She loved her job, the weather was fantastic, and we could see mountains from our window. Mountains.

Thankfully, I was quickly able to land a job too and we were well on our way to crawling out of debt. We both worked hard, tightened our belts, and paid every penny we could to the IRS and Citibank.

At some point (actually, it was August 15) I had the idea to start posting some writings on the internet. Though I am a lifelong journaler, I had never written for an audience before (and by audience I mean two of my friends). I found the endeavor challenging, but I also got a lot of enjoyment from the responses, so I kept at it.

By year's end I was feeling pretty homesick. I didn't know anybody. I missed my family and friends. We were so broke we couldn't travel together so I flew home for Thanksgiving without Darby, no doubt setting off rumors of impending divorce.

My first winter in ABQ, my depression struck on schedule, but I noticed something else. Namely, the extreme sun we receive here helped stave off the prolonged phases of sleep. I had more energy than usual. I even managed to keep writing a little. Normally I will remain catatonic until pitchers and catchers report to camp, but I found that I could go for a walk in the afternoons and alleviate much of the nameless dread that I feel in these bouts. Despite my lagging social life in my new city, I was finding other things to love about it.

2008-09
If you are reading this, no doubt you know what happens from here—our cat dies, we get rid of our car, we get a puppy, I quit my job to go to nursing school, we elect my candidate for the first time since I have been able to vote (unless you count Rod Blagojevich, who we each voted for twice), etc.

I haven't seen many of my friends since I left, and I only rarely see my parents. This is already my third New Year's Day in New Mexico. It's these last few years that really seem to have flown. I recently finished an entire year of biology courses, and it feels like yesterday that I sat on this very couch wondering what on Earth I would do now that I was unemployed.

As the decade fades I see how much ground I have covered, and how different my life is. Then again, sitting down to write it all out makes it seem more cohesive than it felt at the time. A lot of things that happen to us are unexpected, or accidental. We don't plan to spend thousands of dollars on surgeries or to suddenly quit our jobs, but these events ultimately determine our paths. How we react to them defines us.

I never thought of it this way before, but Darby has been in my life for almost this entire decade. Finding someone you can spend the rest of your life with is life-altering in the truest sense. All of my decisions consider her feelings (or they ought to anyway...) and it makes the happiness all the more satisfying when it can be shared. Looking back I can sense our good intentions prevailing. We made some bad decisions along the way, but we also worked hard to reconcile them. And we always made it a priority to be happy together and to stay in touch with loved ones.

Of course, I am sorry for the way some things turned out. There are people I no longer speak to, or who no longer speak to me, and at these moments when I am feeling nostalgic it is hard to understand the terms of the conflicts. At any rate, my feelings of anger have long since subsided and have been replaced, mostly with regret and sadness. I can only hope I will behave better in the future.

Heading into the next decade, I am still hopeful. The world seems more dangerous than before. The economy is certainly not in the place it was back when. But I am moving towards my new career with optimism. I feel I will enjoy helping people in a way that administrative work cannot approach. I don't feel quite so manic about my art either. Recently I made a chalkboard for myself. To test it out I wrote:

"Breathe. One day at a time."

It's not exactly profound, but it didn't seem like something I could have thought of at 21. It reflects a mellower approach to life. It is emblematic of growth. Thank god. Sometimes my life seems like no more than a whisper or yawn. It is good to see that I'm still here, and still looking forward to mañana.

To all of you, happy new year, and many more!


* Little did I know, it would only be three short years until George W. Bush went ahead and did it anyway.

** One in particular has never left me. A fairly close shot of the second plane smashing into the towers from an apartment window punctuated by the photographers scream, a sound that overwhelmed the capabilities of their microphone, distorting it with all the anguished helplessness a person feels when something the size of an airplane is about to hit something. What could she do but scream?

*** At this point I would like to state that I do not feel bitterness like so many of my predecessors in the field. I just have different goals for myself, among which exhibiting and selling work are not.

**** I once knocked my teeth out by riding up a tree.

***** It should also be noted that this is the point at which I "accidentally" threw out Darby's oil paints. She never used them, and upon inspection I decided they were very old and in poor condition. I figured if Darby wanted to paint, she could use my set. I think I was in town for two days before she asked where her paints were. It took until Christmas 2008, when I replaced her set, for forgiveness.