It's been a long time since you've seen her,
Could have been three years or more.
Will she be waiting when we dock boys,
Or like the others,
Will she be gone?
- One More Pull, The Longest Johns.
Harmony.
I love harmony.
I LOVE HARMONY!
WHY AM I YELLING
READ THIS IN AN ANGRY VOICE
*deep breath*
I don't know where to begin. I didn't know where to begin. The song lyrics came to me as I sat in front of the blank page, a temporary respite from the turmoil now in my head.
Context. It's August 22, 2023, I am 19. I am sitting downstairs at the kitchen table, and I am writing.
I've been meaning to return to these pages for months, and leave yet another milestone. Now, I've had so many I don't know which one to talk about first.
Chronologically is probably the best way, although because tonight I write in a linear fashion as the words come to my fingers, I guarantee that my story will be tangled and folded on itself. I'm not going back to edit anything except spelling and perhaps stylistic errata.
If my memory recalls, (my short term memory at that), I left off my account 3 weeks into my employment at Polaris, dissatisfied with the life I'd created and with my job. I can tell right now that this article will take multiple days to write, and that's okay. I have begun violently. Something in reading over my old posts woke up and shook hands with something in myself that confuses me.
I'm overwhelmed.
* * *
Hockinson. Hockinson Auto Works. After a month at Polaris, I couldn't take it anymore. I was shopping around various places of employment, and stumbled... Wait a minute. I saw an article page that I wrote on the auto works already. I'm going to take some time to catch up on what the latest thing I wrote was, and check my drafts. My fault for rushing in with such a full, hot head of steam. Why am I so angry?
* * *
Okay, I'm more caught up now, and better equipped to write for a bit. I had made valiant attempts at writing articles over the winter, and here are screenshots of three different drafts I'd begun and left forgotten:
I fell asleep or gave up for the night. The next two are more interesting.
Hmm, yes, this is an account that will be retold in depth in a future post. Spoiler alert: Everyone survived, perhaps due to Marijuana.
A pleasant anecdote concerning an interaction between me and my boss. I loved him as a boss. He was a solid boss.
I'm too tired for this tonight. I accidentally took a 3 hour nap yesterday evening, and consequently didn't fall asleep until after 8am this morning. I woke up at around 12, and while it's not the most tired I've ever felt, I have to work tomorrow at 8am.
I already feel better. I'm not putting in the effort to make this stuff entertaining to read, I'm not utilizing as much rich verbiage, I'm just me. Me writing how I feel. Selfish? Nah, you chose to read this. I will leave this draft here and revisit it in the very near future. No sense in me losing sleep before work because I played Big Bad Wolf to my emotional house of cards. Besides, I really need to poop right now. 10:49 P.M. I'll be back and bring resolution when I'm in more of a writing mood, not an angry keysmashing session.
Hi I love you Trevor Abram Sullivan. You make everyday a gift. (Soph must have written this in my absence, I'm not taking it out. She's a very special woman who I do not deserve.)
a month passes
September 22nd.
Where was I? *skims*
Okay
I really should write more.
Decisions
There comes a time in a young man's life wherein he must make a choice, and depending on his response and circumstances, potentially a second. First, whether he feels like his life is valuable enough and if it would be beneficial to make something out of himself, and second, if he decides that yes, he would like to proceed and contribute to society and the greater good, how he will do so. In my circle and much of America, a young man is able to look out on a world full of promise, ripe for engagement and ready to accept him wherever he may find interest and fulfillment. For much of the past, a 19 year old in my shoes would not have to make the second choice. I would, by default, be a financial advisor like my father, who instead would have been a preacher like his father, who instead would have been a soldier like his (or so I believe, I'm not as familiar with my heritage as I would like to be.) In brief, I wouldn't have to worry or seek direction pertaining to my career. It would be in my blood. What a time to be alive.
When I was a child, I would have had no problem with my arranged marriage. What could be better than not going through heartbreak after disappointment after miscommunication after uncertainty after drama, drama drama.
At this point it has come to my attention that my vocabulary is weakening, as is my writing skill. Writing clean, engaging posts used to be far more effortless. I need to write more and read more books. I never read anymore and that is unacceptable.
Arranged marriage is, in a sense, not all that different than the inheritance of a craft. Father knows best and it saves me the trouble. I would give a lot for one more conversation with my dad right now, because, although I will not be a financial advisor, his insight and God-given wisdom would be welcome concerning how I'll proceed.
"I don't know what I want to do with my life." Countless conversations and the same feeling of lostness and despair have been accompanied by these words. It's more than a "I'm deciding between being a Border Patrol agent and a underwater basket weaver." It's not a decision I'm making between two or four or a dozen potential careers, it's infinite possibilities, infinite paths, and infinite mistakes to be made. Scary.
Even if I choose a fulfilling career in public service, saving lives and playing a superhero, It's all meaningless. What is life, save a path to an end. Why even try, when the lives we touch, change, save are all very finite and all will be forgotten? The only guarantees an atheist has are "I think therefore I am." and "Nobody makes it out alive." It's only too obvious and relatable that our young man, when faced with the first decision, lacking both a Faith to give him purpose and a will to drive him onward, sees much appeal in making a first decision that leads to no second. Living life is too much effort. Living life for the sake of idols will never be fulfilling. Why would an unmotivated young person even bother trying, especially if they have no community, are already a social outcast, have no incentive to leave the home, and are fat, lazy, comfortable, and have no reason to find any excitement in life save for living in fantasies, manufactured and curated for their complete engagement.
I love stories. When I was a kid, I loved reading my dad's Hardy Boys books. I could go through a whole mystery novel in an hour or two. With 50-odd books in the series (and maybe not all in our ownership) I could have easily read through all of them in a week if I'd tried. My glasses prescription is a few years-ish old, and I cannot help but notice my eyesight getting worse while I interact with the world. It's largely my genetics, as everyone in my immediate family wears or wore glasses, however when I was a kid I brushed off countless warnings to not read in low light, put the book away, and go to bed. Now I live with the consequences of my younger self straining my eyes. It's not fun.
Books aren't generally incredibly long reads. Heck, Strong's Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible would definitely take a while, but you can expect to be done with the average novel within 4-8 hours of when you pick it up if you stay really engaged. Well-written books are the healthiest forms of escapism, in my opinion, especially if you love stories.
Movies are relatively short. T.V. can keep you engaged in a story far longer than a movie can, but one tv show alone is not enough for you to escape reality. My generation, well aware of this, binges TV, feeds on movies, and frivolizes hours beyond number in videogames. Videogames do not have the same limitations that manufactured media does. Time becomes irrelevant to the gamer. Hundreds of hours later, our young man decides that the stimulation he receives from the game is more than sufficient and he has no reason to go chase down a paycheck at a skilless job. As long as Mom keeps him fed and plugged in, there's no reason for the athiest to leave the couch. He stays, comfortable and engrossed in the story.
Without God, a person has no real, lasting sense of purpose. They have no higher moral or ethical code, they have no reason to exist (and frankly, they wouldn't.) It's a hell without fire, a search for meaning that will never be permanently satiated.
So why am I writing so deeply about the limbo of the Man Apart from God? Because I can identify with him, even though my beliefs are not the same. I do not know what my purpose is in life, because I do not know how God wants me to proceed, because I'm not listening, because I'm stubborn and unsubmissive. Should I stop and listen for God's voice, spend time in the word, prayer, and Holy meditation, I wouldn't feel so lost. I want to rest in the peace of God. It's been too long since I've done that.
What am I waiting for? The time to be right, but the hour has come and gone many times wherein I should have sold out completely for God and His will in my life. I know that, until I do allow God to speak to me and work me over, My life is in limbo, and that's not a place where I belong as a Christian. Lukewarm is not on the table. I've been riding the line between sin and submission so long now that I seem to have fallen partway into the former without changing my ways. God doesn't care what car I have.
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