On happiness as it relates to me

What does it really mean to be happy?

I’m happy. Giddy even. Euphoric nearly. And it’s because I’m slowly being able to be myself. I’ve always been me. And I’ve always been a mostly optimistic sort of person. But recently, I’ve been exploring the furthest reaches of myself. Making what I deem to be necessary changes.

I’ve had help. I would never have come this far without the constant affirmation of my friends. Knowing that I have people to stand behind me, beside me even, makes me bold.

So I’ve been honest with myself and I’m working on being honest with those around me. My parents are the final frontier, so to speak. I won’t hesitate to admit that I am terrified. It will not be easy at all. Telling them, not that I don’t want to be their daughter, but in fact, I’ve never been. Yet, I can never really be their son either. I’d rather dabble in the middle. They need to know that I prefer it this way, that this is how it has always been and where I am comfortable. They will also need to know that in general, I prefer a masculine default. Which is a change. It is scary and difficult even for me.

But even the apprehension of speaking to my parents face-to-face does not dampen my happiness. I only hope it lasts for a good long time.

I sent that package...

I yearn for change.

But,

I don’t know how to change myself. The main reason I cannot seem to figure this out is because I don’t know what I want to change into. I have absolutely no plans for my life. Nothing definitive anyway. I say I’m looking for a better job, but the truth is that I’m not looking, because I don’t know what sort of job is better. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know where I fit.

I really don’t know who I am in any realm. I don’t know where I stand with Christianity. I don’t know where I fall on the sexuality scale, mostly because I don’t know where I fall on the gender scale. I’ve been looking into all of these things recently, and I’ve come up with imprecise labels and trite expressions.

There are some things I know, of course. I know I want to become fitter. I want to be healthy. I want my body to look how I envision it in my mind: androgynous (emphasis on the ‘andro’). I want to rid myself of excess and build muscle. But I lack the self-control to eat healthier and exercise regularly.

I know I want to travel. I just don’t know exactly how. Obviously travel requires money, but I rather dislike working more than I need. I don’t quite know how to save. Of course my frequent, frivolous internet purchases don’t help much.

I want to learn to be content. I’ve realized that I simply get bored with things far too quickly. I’ve been at my job for two months and already it is mundane. Routine. Boring. It’s not that the work itself is boring, I’m just bored. I surmise my attention span has atrophied due to my excess of time spent on the internet.

I want to have personal connections. This is something that’s terribly hard for me to initiate. I’ve recently realized it is a real problem, and I’ve gone so far as to read books on how better to make friends. And in some ways it helps. I think of certain things in social situations. I try to initiate contact and be interested rather than follow my nature and stand in a corner to observe.

I suppose the simple fact that I want to change means I have some hope left. I’m not entirely complacent.

Who Is Larz?

So I feel the need to talk a bit about me. My identity. Who this person called Larz really is.

It’s been somewhat of a struggle for me to solidify things. And by somewhat I mean that it has been the hardest segment of my life thus far. Because things simply won’t solidify. I keep discovering things about myself that radically change my ideas about everything. My head has been at constant war with my heart for around two years. They’re finally just making peace now.

So this whole identity thing: I hate labels, they just make it harder to solidify, harder to explain, harder to think about really. I want to just be me. But I’ve had to rationalize many things. Though now, I’m very comfortable just being me. However, I know many people don’t understand me, so I’ve found a couple words to describe my identity.

Genderqueer.

Whoa. What? This just means that I don’t feel I fit into my biological gender or gender role. However, it does not mean that I desire to fully fit into the opposing gender or gender role either. I simply do not feel that gender is binary. I prefer to fit somewhere in the middle. My biology remains the same, but my appearance doesn’t mirror it. I don’t desire to resurrect my given name. It somewhat irks me to see it on my license and debit card. I prefer the much more androgynous “Larz”, though I’m not sure I’ll ever legally change it. Pronouns are tricky. Ideally, I’d rather have neither, but that’s not much of an option really, and since English contains no singular gender neutral pronouns, I then prefer both. Yes, both. Figure it out.

Here comes another odd word:

Panamorous.

This means that like my own gender, I don’t reckon gender into my attraction or relationships. I am certainly attracted to appearances (the more androgynous, the better), but it’s essentially about a person. I was taught at school and by my parents to love people for who they really are and not to judge them on things they cannot change. To me gender falls into this category. I don’t think love should be limited by biology anymore than by skin tone or bank account.

These two odd words are really only part of my identity. Perhaps a big part, and even a scary part, but I’m so much more really.

I’m still Larz.

I still like Firefly and Lord of the Rings. I still play Spiro the Dragon on psx. I like to take photos and write science fiction stories. I’ve developed a taste for sushi that my income cannot support. I love to travel and observe people. I’ve a heart for those that are less fortunate than I. I desire (like everyone) to be a part of something special. To help, to succeed, to love, to live, to be happy.

I realize that this may spark some comment and queries. I welcome them whole-heartedly. I know that it’s not easy to understand, and it helps me to understand more when I’m able to discuss it.

Useless Adages

They say that time heals all wounds and that distance make the heart grow fonder yet out of sight is out of mind. That familiarity breeds contempt and that it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Some of these things I've found to be true and some not so much. But I've learned a bit about each.

I'm not so sure about the time thing, though I'm sure there's truth in it. I'm not sure it's a complete healing. It's just stemming the blood flow, a scabbing over. I think that a large scar will often be left if it's a real wound. I think that I will be adding, and have been adding more and more scars to my collection.

Distance I think will be very good. Hard for sure, but distance is needed. Not the extent of out of sight out of mind, but I certainly tend to focus most on the immediate. I'm not one to miss people terribly, not one for weepy nostalgia. But I do still feel connections to the past, ties to people and places far from me.

In some ways familiarity does breed contempt. I get along with people really well, but that doesn't mean that I'm immune to this. Sometimes just because I know a person so well, I can be easily irritated by that person. Sometime because I know the person, I can easily be an irritant. In this way, unfortunately, change is good. Distance, time.

As for the last phrase, I think it's bullshit. Yet I wouldn't change it for the world.

Of course this expostulation means very little in the scheme of things, but these phrases have been running in my mind of late and I wished to shove them to my needs. Or something like that.

(desperately writing to live)

The world spins, right? Life goes on. Time and distance dull the aches and pains. But there are aches and pains that remain, hidden under years and miles, waiting to reappear in all their former glory. And this is life. Hiding behind smiles. A facade of happiness to cloak the pain. We laugh because it hurts and laughing somehow relieves the ache, even for the tiniest moment. If smiles and laughter are hard to find, we turn to methods with which they can be induced. Drugs, alcohol, sex. Only further perpetuating the deepest pain. For loneliness is the deepest pain. We are placated by work, TV, movies, the internet, but the connections are lost. We miss the people as they pass. Our words are hollow, hurried, harried. With our actions we tell one another there is no time for you, only me. We don't really want to know how you are doing, how the kids are. We only want return to our menial tasks. Our routine. The routine that increases loneliness. It is the disease we rarely know we have. Sure, it springs upon us after a breakup or a death, but we seldom realize that it is caused by our society. Always hurry. All about money. And fun. But you cannot buy someone's love, their time, a deep connection. That takes time and patience and pain. It is not fun. To truly know someone we must become vulnerable. We must trust. But we are cowards. We hid behind our bluster, defining ourselves by what we do. We lose who we actually are. We lose sight of the things that matter. We are emotionally dead. Or is that just me?

Forrest Gump, Iggy Pop and being Twelve

Life, as they say, is like a box of chocolates. But I'll draw the simile out differently. You see, life is like chocolate. And I crave chocolate. Any kind really. It is my addiction. My love. It also has the tendency to give me a stomach ache because I cannot stop eating after I've started. Life is like that. I have, like Iggy Pop, a 'lust for life.' At least I like to think so. I love to experience different aspects of life. I love to experiment. I love to go through the changes. However, it often hurts. Way more than chocolate.

As a recent graduate from a conservative Christian university, I feel as though I've been trapped in a box. There is little I can do with my degree. In fact, I haven't had a job all summer. I just sell DVDs on Half.com. This will change though.

Last week I moved out of university housing for the 5^th and last time. It was actually rather painful. I spent four years of my life there. I met many good people and left behind a few great people. We always say we'll keep in touch. We still live in the same metro area. But we all know how hard it really is. Classes and jobs get in the way. The distance is further than the person down the hall, less accessible.

This summer was both the best and worst of my life for reasons I will not detail here. I'd like to say I grew up. But if that's true it happened despite a constant desire to be twelve again. Yet here I am, living in a house in Denver. I haven't had to ask my parents for anything more than a mattress. I feel like I can do this whole 'real life' thing. Perhaps I'm just cocky or high on paint fumes. But I feel confident (today) that I can get a job, pay rent, hang out with all the important people in my life, and even maybe write a little.

Tomorrow, I will probably be sobbing, wishing I was twelve, and resisting even beginning to think about starting to look for a job.

Did I mention it's weird as hell that for the first time in 16 years I'm not preparing for school to begin?

Realism is Depressing

I feel so overwhelmed by the pessimism that surrounds my studies. Not studies in general, but my area of study. As a Global Studies major, I am inundated with the statistics. Millions starve around the world. Human rights are constantly violated. Wars erupt. Corruption is rampant.

And here I sit. Affected only through study. I feel useless. I can do nothing. I cannot help. And sometimes I wonder if I should. Sometimes I wonder if it is not just for the best that humanity annihilates itself.

I get too much negative. I know all the bad things. But I do not know how to help. I feel that I cannot possibly help in light of the numbers. Nothing I ever do will dent the statistics. I am powerless.

I am generally an idealist. Envisioning a bright future. Vowing to love where I can and do everything I can to help everyone. (When my apathy does not take over.)

But I know I can never love enough. I can never change the world.

My head knows that a little helps. Perhaps I cannot help everyone, but I can help someone. I can change the world for one person.

But it is hard to reconcile my head and my heart. My heart is sore. My heart mourns and will not listen to reason. My heart is heavy and dragging me down.

How do I reconcile realism and idealism? How do I affect the world positively when everything tells me the world is going to hell?

How do I move past this?

The Problem of Evil: God's Justice in the World

I have had doubts that God is all together good. I have been to one of the largest slums in the world. I have seen the suffering in the eyes of children and adults alike. Evil is allowed rampant in the world.

I have wondered "why is God doing nothing?" when children suffer, when tribes war, when bombs drop.

Recently I have come to the realization that, as a Christian, I am part of God's body. The church is the extension of God on this earth. It is not that God cannot act, or will not act, it is that his people will not care enough to act.

So the question becomes "why are we doing nothing?" and even "why am I doing nothing?"

We sit in our luxury, theorizing about God, justice, love; complaining about everything from the temperature of the t-bone to the corruption of the government of any given nation. We sit, we think, we complain when it is our responsibility to carry out God's promise to everyone.

I hope to continue in this vein at a later date. So, more to come, hopefully.

Kenya et al

Current events: US primary elections, feet of snow, school starts Monday, payday on Friday, oh, and Kenya is falling apart.

I'll start at the beginning and then skip to the end.

The US Presidential campaigns sicken me. It is important to hear from those that wish to bid for the role, but why so much money is needed is way beyond me. The amount of money spent by each of the candidates during the period before the actual election is more money than many smaller economies produce in a year. Millions of dollars, gone. What do we see of it? Only a few people raised above the rest for everyone's consideration. I'd like to care, but it sickens me. I think I'll vote for Bono.

So while this goes on, and on, and on, Kenya just underwent an election. Sort of. Well, the people voted all right, but the votes were apparently not counted correctly and the incumbent president will not give up his power. All those people who eagerly voted became a bit angry when the tantalizing options offered to them were suddenly taken away. They became violent. It's in the news, sometimes. I do not have television, but I've seen it in a few local papers, in the middle section, the two pages of world news. Kenya had a fourth of a page one time, with a photo. The violent, upheaval type of photo.

That is not the Kenya I know. The Kenya I visited last summer was far from perfect (what isn't?), but was a sort of home away from home. It was not the peacefulness, because I did not consider it. It was not the comparatively good economy that only allowed for small margins of corruption. It was the people. They are who I think of. They are the home I found there. I do not so much worry about the tribal violence that has ensued. I worry about my friends who are forced to stay indoors where it is safe. They are unable to venture out for food and other necessities. The inflation in Kenya has taken off as well, making whatever money they do have worth so much less. For people barely making enough as it was previously, that is very nearly a death sentence. I think of the small businesses that The 10/10 Project has helped to establish. I know these people, scraping a living from the poorest parts of their country. Helping their community, strengthening the bonds of humanity. That is all shattered now. People, torn from one another; forced into hiding. Many dead. Homes and businesses burned and looted. It rends my heart.

The Kenya in the news these past weeks is not the Kenya I know. The Kenya I know is comprised of the many faces of lovely people who eagerly welcomed me into their homes; who fed me until I could eat no more; who loved me, and taught me to love.

Life is pain. Love is pain.

These are the things I've learned in college.
These are the lessons imprinted on me.
This is the lens through which I now look.

Relationships of any kind (here I mean casual acquaintance, good friendship or romantic) involve trust, honesty and love. The depth of the relationship is determined by how much of each is employed. Trust involves opening up, being vulnerable. Honesty includes being honest with oneself. And love, love is something I know not how to define. It is what comes both before and after the other two. It is what binds two people together.

It hurts to lie to somebody. Most of all, perhaps, oneself. It is painful to hurt someone, and, of course, to be hurt. The test of love is not to love without hurting. We are human, and that is impossible. The test is instead to love, and be loved through the pain.

Love cannot possibly be achieved unless it has first been tested. Love is nothing without the hardship that must accompany it. To be free from the pain of life is to be without love. In my opinion, that is much more painful.