An End

I began Look Homeward, Martin ten years ago. Today, I say good-bye.

For me, "The End" means completion. With this final post, I complete Look Homeward, Martin. 

This blog began with a different me - a recent college graduate, still living at home, who had a vision for living without true knowledge of how to truly live it.

Now, I have reached a point, ten years later, where I live in the world of many of the choices I made then and across these ten years - choices to live a helping career in Library & Information Sciences; choices to live a creative life in writing and filmmaking; and choices to orient my life around travel and experience.

In reaching the completion of this blog, my posts became less frequent. I view this as something positive. I write less on here because I live more. 

Through Look Homeward, I worked through this process of performing my life's vision in naming experiences, obstacles, and goals. 

Thank you for reading along with me.

Revising the 50 List for A Post-Pandemic Life

I shared my "50 List" over five years ago.

In writing that list, I attempted to create a vision of an upcoming period of my life - a life where I felt solid and stable in my career. I tried to avoid a lot of specific goals and write vision statements.

That list reads differently in a post-pandemic world and to my post-pandemic self. My new therapist urged me to rewrite the list because I am not the same. 

Last year felt like living in a house that kept burning down - a horrifying feeling. It felt exhausting to continually recover everything and return to a new normal. At a certain point I had to let go of things I no longer had the energy to keep. For instance, I let go of hockey after my 20 years of fandom because intuitively it no longer fits in the life I want now.

The paramount question from last year: what do I still want in my life after the pandemic? This question motivates me to revise my "50 List" into something simpler - a list of vision statements that cohere into a new vision of how I will define goodness and stability in my life.

A Revised 50 List

• Write and direct a film every year.
• Travel once every year 
• Pay off student loan debt.
• Own a guitar that I can pass on to those I love.

Why do We Need to Fight?: Thoughts on Writing Stories of Peace

 As a writer, I focus on externalizing the internal. I frequently write short screenplays or poems that engage in genre tropes in science fiction and dark fantasy as a way of externalizing internal realities and feelings. 

It feels intuitive to represent a war within oneself as an actual war. 

Yet, I also think of the older poet ("Homer") in the movie Wings of Desire who says, "No one has so far succeeded in singing an epic of peace… what is it about peace that makes its story so hard to tell?”

This past year has led me down a path of interrogating the need for combat in my fiction. Why do I need to write about fights and violence? The answer feels easy: because my characters have an internal fight - an internal violence that disrupts their lives. 

Just like me. Just like so much of my life feels like a war inside. Many of us feel like we have a war inside. Stories with combat and external conflicts compel us into a catharsis from our internal conflicts.

Interrogating myself, I ask why isn't peace compelling? Why do I not write enough about kindness? "What is it about peace that makes its story so hard to tell?"

Using a self-interrogation, I think my attraction to films and stories involved in combat comes from this mental combat. Why am I still at war inside of myself and when will peace happen? What does peace feel like?

Last year led me down this path because I wanted to avoid anything dark. I couldn't bear brutality last year. I wanted peace and stability. I wanted kindness and hope. It felt so far away and it felt like everyone had to deal with lives without mental peace. We all lived in a mental space of seemingly unending brutality and combat

I do not have an answer to Homer's question. And I cannot stop loving or imagining stories without combat. But as a writer I want to imagine and write more stories of peace, connection, and kindness. 

"I" and "We" Spectrum - A Spring 2021 Update

I'm here. 

I wrote almost nothing for this blog last year. My energy and my sense of hope has been empty. 

It's hard to write a blog post on a blog that largely follows how I work on my goals in a year that crushed my goals. This past year - the events that arose from the decisions people made - crushed many of our goals. 

Throughout last year I had many privileges - a job and income, a loving wife, a new pup - that so many lacked. Yet, how people acted and how people continue to act left me with a profound sense of hopelessness. It's important to not simply blame a "year" for misfortune when too many with agency acted irresponsibly. 

This has been a difficult winter for me. My great uncle died of COVID, too many of my friends suffered from COVID, and my mom and my sister had a terrible bout of COVID. Unrelated to COVID and still difficult was the unexpected house repairs that exhausted our honeymoon fund. Most difficult was putting my dog, Rory, to sleep after nearly 14 years. Currently difficult is seeing my wife's (and, now, my) dog Odie suffer from lymphoma and deal with chemotherapy. 

But, Spring is here. My friends have received vaccine doses. My sister and my father received vaccine doses. 

Let us hope that good things will return this Spring. My larger hope after all we experienced is that we think of this experience in terms of we - that we think of our decisions in terms of others. 

A long time ago, philosophers recognized that "I" is important and that our society should empower that I. But this year should teach us that "I" and "we" are on a spectrum. Our "I" feelings and desires connect with consideration of others. Our responsibility to our own self connects with our responsibility to others. 

That is my larger hope. I hope we walk away with a value of everyone, with a sense that everyone matters and our self-interest only matters if it empowers others. 

Endings from a Writer

I always begin writing a narrative with the end in sight. 

I argue that narratives feel more potent because of a fulfilling end, an end that happens because what happens in a story drives to that end. The same way real life feels more vital because there will be an end, unfortunately, a story feels vibrant because it will end and lead to an ending. 

Narratives, unlike real life, need causality. Every decision or action a character takes leads to another action. Nothing just happens. The narrative needs action flow for cohesiveness. 

For my writing - mostly narrative short screenplays - after I understand what characters I'm writing about, I try to conceive of an end first. All characters, I argue, should drive a plot forward and act strategically. A good strategist creates a strategy based on outcome. "What is the endgame?" "What do I want everything to lead to?" "When this is over, what do I want everything to be like?" A character asks these questions or acts with this strategic mindset, even if not explicit. 

Therefore, I start by thinking of what do I want the reader or audience to experience in the end. When they finish what I've written and leave, what do I want them to feel? 

Then I think about what ending will leave them with that feeling. Then I work backwards - if this is the end, then how did we get here? I work backwards on a broad level - what happens in the story - and on a specific level - what just happened? 

All of this connects with how a character causes things to happen and drives toward this end. Their strategic mindset and their imaginary context move to this end. 

The Inconvenience - Uncertainty Principle

 Let me share a hypothesis I have on how individuals connect and access entertainment. 

I argue that most people make decisions on accessing entertainment on two factors: convenience of access and likely experiential outcome. People want to consume entertainment that they know will give them the outcome they expect to have (generally positively entertaining or uplifting, if not fulfilling) and that has the fewest barriers (financial, physical distance, age requirements) to access. 

Based on this argument, I created the "Inconvenience - Uncertainty Principle," a series of three statements on how individuals choose the entertainment they access:

1) People are willing to deal with the inconvenience of accessing a work of entertainment if the outcome they expect or want is certain. 

2) People are willing to experience a work of entertainment with an uncertain outcome if the work is not inconvenient to access. 

3) People are unwilling to experience a work of entertainment with an uncertain outcome AND that's inconvenient to access. 

What this means:

1) People who, say, live 30-40 miles outside of Atlanta are willing to pay a substantial cost, drive in less than ideal circumstances, pay for a babysitter and parking - basically, reconfigure their routine day or evening - in order to see Disney's Aladdin or Hamilton at the Fox Theatre because those shows have certain outcomes. I mean...it's Hamilton. It's Disney. Someone who buys that ticket knows the outcome and will buy a $100+ ticket to see it. 

2) If a movie with a low Rotten Tomatoes score is on Netflix, then someone subscribed to Netflix will feel more willing to watch it than when it was in theaters because it's something they can watch in their pajamas, without leaving the house, and at no additional cost in money.

3) If a movie with a low Rotten Tomatoes score and an uncertain outcome is at a movie theatre more than 20 minutes away, most people will choose to not see it. If someone lives in Buford, GA and casually (or even more than casually) likes baseball, they will not drive to see the Atlanta Braves if the Braves are having a subpar season. 

To clarify some things:

Inconvenience and uncertain outcomes fall on a spectrum, personal for everyone. I began considering this hypothesis with theatre in mind. The challenges of making and producing theatre is that so few people access quality or professional theatre in their life. Therefore the outcome for a non-theatre experienced person is inherently uncertain because of poor theatre experiences and a lack of knowledge of how theatrical performances work. 

Certainty in outcome increases based on trust and experience. Individuals who have accessed theatre from a specific organization before will trust the organization and have less uncertainty in outcome. "I don't know if this play is for me, but I loved everything I've seen here." As another example, there are film directors I love that I will still go because I trust they're doing something I want to see or something interesting, even if the reviews are mixed.

Uncertainty is personal for everyone. Someone might not like an actor and therefore if a movie has that actor, the outcome becomes uncertain. "I don't want to see that movie because I don't like Jeremy Renner." 

Inconvenience can also depend on circumstance or mood. If someone just wants to get out of the house, the movie theatre 20 minutes away feels less inconvenient compared with other options of entertainment access out of the house that may be more than 20 minutes away.

Relationships are Voluntary: A Brief Post

All relationships must be based on volunteerism.

I learned to live by this maxim which has left me hurt and left me powerful. Any relationship - that is, romantic or platonic - should continue by choice and never because of obligation.

I learned this lesson the hard way. I learned this lesson by hanging onto relationships that gave me needless anxiety for too long. I learned this lesson by believing I could negotiate romantic relationships. If someone said "I'm not interested in you" I believed I could negotiate it through reasoning or pleading.

I felt like a failure for failing at relationships. I felt I had to act as the best, most giving friend. I felt doomed to perpetual loneliness because my romantic relationships averaged 1-2 dates and, until my recent relationship with my wife, 3 months. 

After a toxic relationship, however, I made a moment of clarity: I would rather live alone the rest of my life than to live with a toxic person. 

That moment of clarity happened only as a 28 year old. It lived in me previously as a thought, but from that time I learned to embody it.

My moment of clarity: my life mattered whether someone was in it or not. I do not have time for unfulfilling relationships.

An Elaboration on My Creative Mission Statement

I write screenplays, poems, and narratives to reflect the emotional truths of growing up in a small town.

I argue that a small town is a microcosm of humanity. I geek over two things: storytelling specifically from the broad category of creating and making things; and figuring out how people and humanity work. To write, for me, is to work out how humans work. Growing up in a small town, this was my lens of human beings in a formative sense.

Small towns, I argue, amplify human traits that exist everywhere. It amplifies something good and amplifies something terrible. Freedom feels tangible in wild and scenic places. I felt free to explore and discover in the woods surrounding my house. Prejudice and zealotry are also amplified. Cooperation and interdependence is frequently amplified. Isolation and loneliness are also amplified when everywhere feels so far away.

My lens for small towns originates from growing up in "Appalachia." I argue Appalachia is distinct in spite of similarities with other places. I argue that Appalachia’s narrative originates from an exploitation of labor and resources with minimal reciprocity by people with power. I argue that Appalachians built mechanisms of survival within an unforgiving landscape and unforgiving systems of governance - e.g. unforgiving systems of humanity.

I see a spectrum of two mechanisms of survival: constructive and destructive. Individuals in Appalachia and rural areas construct - they write, they build better things, they sacrifice for greater good. They frequently construct with available resources and within a context of scarcity. Individuals in the small towns I know also destruct - they prevent creation, they limit information sharing, they place self above all else, and they preserve unforgiving systems of humanity.

Through what I write, I want to represent the emotional truths of transformation in this environment, of how characters work through their mechanisms, and how these mechanisms prompt them towards a new truth.

I rarely write with realism or using representation lens. I write using elements of the fantastic - magical realism, dark fantasy, and especially science fiction. In a region that feels larger than life because the systems of humanity loom larger for residents, I find it useful to use literary elements that accurately reflect the emotional truths.

For instance, I have used an “Ark Universe” to represent Appalachia in an outer space context. A space "ark" or space station with Earth's survivors away from Earth is to share how people might feel removed from place and how people feel in an isolated, disconnected environment. While purely science fiction, it originates in an exploration of the emotional truths of small town life.

I also use characters I call “strangers” - aliens who have cacti pines that can send emotions and feelings into people upon touch. These exist to reflect the emotional truths. When emotional truths seem far fetched, something otherworldly feels appropriate and more honest.

There is a desire in me to conceive of Appalachia outside of traditions and what is stereotypically represented in this region. I do not wish to amplify Appalachian traditions. I want to discover the future of Appalachia. I want to imagine Appalachia as a futuristic place - a place removed from folks, white absolution, and the harmful, destructive systems of governance.

The Decade I Broke Up With My Worst Self

I began 2010 with a sense of urgency to reckon with my worst fears. 

I have a drive to create - to translate what I imagine. I spent my young adulthood imagining myself as a creator - a filmmaker or a writer. But I failed to create anything that lived up to what I imagined. I even changed my major from Biology to Theatre so I could create something - anything. I didn't live up to that in the 2000's. I was a failure.

I was more than a failure as a creative. I was a social failure. No one in my theatre program liked me. I don't blame them - I was standoffish and put on a snooty air. I was unable to read people as well as books. I acted foolishly at best and callously at worst.

In 2009, I wrapped up my year stage managing a production that happened in spite of my choices. I was toxic to my colleagues who scolded and yelled at me in response to my daftness. They didn't want to work with me. I felt frustrated. For the next production, I applied for the assistant stage management position. I said if they assign me to "Construction," a crew team I wanted least, I'd transfer into another program. When the crew lists came out, I saw my assignment:

Construction.

They didn't have to say what I understood by that decision - I am not fit for leadership. I am not fit for what I aspire to do. I didn't know whether I could do anything.

In that final semester of 2009 I took Acting 1 - a required class. I felt terrified of acting - I'm a behind the scenes person. The class ends with a performance of a scene directed by the students in Directing 1. We, the Acting 1 class, auditioned for the directing students. I had a terrible audition for the directors (from Look Back in Anger) that only yielded two callbacks (the minimum callbacks for each actors was two). A directing student cast me as "Bullfrog" in their scene from the play Catfish Moon.

I practiced and dug into my role. I acted on stage in December 2009. I performed. Our performance yielded...applause - enthusiastic applause! I acted on stage and not only did I not suck but I was ok! 

I did something. Even more: it was better than nothing. I made something - through acting I made this character.

I decided to remain in the program. I decided that since many of my colleagues didn't know me well enough, I would take responsibility to share my better attributes (my sense of humor) and project any anxiety into constructive giving (bringing dessert for folks during Tech Week, for instance). I decided to work on every production my program had that semester.

I wasn't leaving - I wasn't quitting.

I wrote more. I struggled with my social acumen - failing to date, for instance - but I took responsibility for my actions. I accepted my mistakes with sincere remorse. I never repeated those mistakes.

I slowly became the person I imagined myself as.

At the beginning of 2010, I had few allies or friends, no real creative output other than my creating writing materials, and felt like a failure. At the end of 2010, I had more friends, professors who believed in me, and I completed that year with a staged reading of my play The Five Stages of Baldness which was well received.

Now, at the end of 2019 - 9 years and 11 months later, I have meaningful friendships and a fiancee. I have a life in writing and filmmaking with a portfolio of finished short films shown at film festivals and on Vimeo, in addition to my published poems. I have a day job career that fulfills me in serving others. I have a personal life of traveling to the places I've always wanted to visit.

I feel humbled by my decade. I worry about celebrating it too much, however. Part of me feels justified in celebrating how my life changed because I changed my life and I took responsibility and agency. But part of me feels like this post comes off as a brag because it will fail to encompass the completeness of "how" I changed or how bad I felt or was. I have accomplished many of my goals but there's so much more that I'm proud of than just accomplishing goals.

By breaking up with my worst self I didn't spend the decade just accomplishing tangible goals or traveling or writing. I broke up with my worst emotional self. That's what I truly take pride in.

I'm proud of my travels. I'm proud of my creative output. But I'm proud that I'm not toxic towards women - that I'm not insecure about dating women or that I feel like every woman exists as a potential girlfriend or wife for me. I'm proud that I worked on my social illiteracy and found tactics to become more literate through clear communication. I'm proud to see a therapist to deal with my anxiety and with the fact I can't control everything in my life.

I'm proud of the moments I stood up for myself to individuals who acted poorly or maliciously to me. I'm proud of the moments of kindness and compassion I could impart.

I'm proud of who I became by breaking up with my worst self.

Trials and Errors of Not Having Time for Everything: Fall Update 2019

"I don't have time for everything" is a phrase easier said than embodied.

I began the year aspiring to embody that statement. Embody means I live and breathe that statement. It means I act according the principle of that idea. It means when I have rumination I say to myself "how does this help me right now" as my therapist advises and move on. Embodying means I do not stress about the tone of someone's statement because stressing over the tone of someone's statement isn't something I have time for.

Despite my best wishes, however, I do make time for it.

As I write this update - a belated one - I struggle to see success in embodying the "I don't have time for everything" ethos. I also know my widow's peak receded more and blonde streaks (and white streaks) have emerged.

It's difficult to fully flip and embody this statement. I look at this year as experiments to reach that ideal. Action requires tactics. It requires trial and error.

Trial and error means continuing seeing a therapist - a positive thing.

Trial and error means asking myself "how does this help me right now?" as my therapist recommended.

Trial and error means writing gratitude statements almost everyday.

Trial and error means communicating early to others when I'm overwhelmed and preventing situations when I'm feeling overwhelmed.

Trial and error means writing for myself more frequently.

All these trials and errors helped move me into a better space. Yet, this positive development forward frequently recedes. My mental walls remain thin and all it takes is one villain (or villainous force) to knock it down. Then every worry I didn't have time for returns.

Then I start over.

But I do start over. It's worth it to continue this struggle. It's worth continuing struggles that will bring something better.

This year has given me a lot to enjoy and relish. I went to Scotland! I have fun times with friends! Game nights! I've shot personal film projects! I'm about to shoot a narrative project!

Also: I got engaged! I'm getting married!

All the exclamations!

To embody "I don't have time for this" means I need to enjoy the exclamation points of my life. Giving time to worries means turning those exclamation point moments into period or question mark moments. I do not want that. I want to focus on earning those exclamation points moments and living them up.

A Thirty Year Old Problem: Self-Worth

What am I worth?

I begin my 30th year working on living up to an affirmation: "I am worthy." Worthy of what? Worthy of self-acceptance?

For many folks I'm their friend or best friend. For them and especially for my family, I'm definitely worth something. This notion "I'm not important" makes no sense to them.

Yet I struggle with a perception of my worth. Why? Because even though I'm 30 and have a lot accomplished in my life, I wrestle with defining my own worth in my own terms. I wrestle with looking in a mirror and thinking "you're not so bad."

For so many years I defined worth as one defined by others. I can no longer do that. I'm 30. I have to define what matters to me and how I work to live toward those ideals.

I have to say: I deserve to be here.

I have to say: I am worth a lot because I exist.

Ideations of Importance

When I began therapy, my therapist asked if I contemplated or thought of committed suicide. In college, I did. After I stage managed A Number in college, I remained frozen the next morning because I knew if I woke up I would get in my 1996 Ford Contour and drive to Savannah for one last walk. I would walk into the ocean on Tybee Island, with a note on the car. I would not walk back.

The Tybee Island ideation persisted throughout my junior year of college. College felt socially overwhelming and my theatre experience - in hindsight, an experience I consider the best decision I made - exacerbated a feeling that I will never make my mark.

Those ideas changed when I accomplished things. I abandoned the idea that I should not be here because with tactics I could accomplish my goals. Therefore, I spent my twenties working on my goals and accomplishing what I could as a way to cope with anxiety.

I'm glad I accomplished those goals. Those goals fulfilled me. I would never regret what I accomplished in my twenties.

When not working on those goals, however, I fell into a maelstrom of anxiety and self-hating. I couldn't sit still with myself. Every mistake I made from middle school until now would haunt me. Last year, I would wake up to use the bathroom and instead of falling asleep lay as my mind raced in a fury of anxious thoughts. My only solution was to wake up and distract myself with a movie or book.

Through therapy, this anxiety subsided in a large way. Though intellectually I knew I matter to people, in therapy I unraveled this deep sense that I feel unworthy. That I do not deserve happiness and that I am unimportant.

Unlike college, I do not have suicide ideation, but I still have two frequent ideations. One is silly: participating in an interview on WTF with Marc Maron about my career and what I've done. The other is less silly: imagining how will people react if I die, or who will come to my funeral.

These ideations reflect an overarching insecurity: that I'm unimportant. I want others to know I'm important. I want to show the world that my story and my stories deserve recognition.

What I See

I don't deserve recognition, however. "Deserve" is a strong word.

Instead of thinking in what I deserve or placing the entirety of my worth on how people (or at least certain people) view me, I have to define my own worth.

I have to accept my own worth based on my own values and ideals.

I write this post to accept this challenge. For my twenties, I wrote about how I set goals and accomplished them. Accomplishing these goals served their purpose in broadening what I'm capable of doing.

But last year I began writing about emotional goals and how I need to focus on my emotional development, or "self-care." I need to accept that I have worth.

Why do I have worth?

Because I act on the ideals and principles I set define as positive and good; or how people should act. While imperfect, I accept responsibility for how I act; I treat others the best I can; and I am sincere in my growth.

I have worth because I'm a human being. I cannot act well to others under the belief that all people deserve dignity in the library and in the real world, then act poorly to myself.

I have worth.

I accomplished many goals in my twenties and I plan to continue those travel goals, filmmaking goals, and life goals.

But I also need to accept myself. I have to work on removing toxic beliefs and curtail insecurities to accept my worth.

I Don't Have Time for Everything: On 2019

Blonde is coming.

For many folks blonde hair equals fun and delightful. For red heads, as we age our hair lightens across a spectrum until white. Blonde means old. Blonde hair for me is gray hair to you.

We all reach that point in our late twenties. We dig through our hair and find those gray follicles. It's nature's way of telling you that "you don't have time for everything."

Now I'm digging through my own beard and finding my once mighty red hair lighter and lighter. I look in the mirror and my normally strawberry blonde hair appears more blonde than strawberry.

I don't have time for everything.

I begin 2019 with this statement. I ask "what do I have time for?" I turn 30 this year, an age that strikes many with existential crises or thoughts of memento mori.

Yet I reckoned with these thoughts last year. Last year meant friends leaving, fears of death, and more realities of adulthood. Last year meant I had to define purpose, which I did with Covey's 80th birthday premise. Because this happened at the end of the year, purpose remains the word I consider moving forward. Last year I asked "what is my purpose?" Now I say "everything should have a purpose."

I don't have time for everything. Everything should have a purpose.

I begin this year with tangible and written goals ready to tackle. I also begin this year aiming to strengthen my emotional self. I can write my 2019 post on the goals I have for writing and traveling, but I write this post to talk about emotional goals. I write to discuss how I aim to perpetuate the tactics that helped me overcome deeply anxious thoughts and stress. If stress causes gray hair  then I need to make sure every gray hair, every blonde hair, has a purpose. Instead of stressing over toxic people, over things I cannot control, I need to accept I don't have time for everything. Thus, everything I worry about and focus on should have a purpose.

The typical New Years' Resolution for a lot of folks deals with diet and exercise. It begins with a workout goals.

Dealing with stress and emotional pain are my workout goals. Stress and emotional pain happen, but I want to perpetuate a workout plan I began last year with my therapist.

Workout Plan: Strengthening Relationships

Last year posed such overwhelming odds because folks in my support system I rely on departed. That's ok though. I have other wonderful friends and a supportive family. I'm lucky to have this where many folks don't. Therefore I want to strengthen and build this support system.

How do you plan to strengthen a support system?

If a workout plan needs tangible tactics, then I aim to try these tactics:

• Travel more with friends and family. I aim to travel with my girlfriend to Nashville in March. I'd like to have a nice day trip with family. 
• Game Night every month. My coterie and I enjoyed tabletop game nights last year and I aim to make this a monthly, recurring event. 
• Treat my folks on their birthdays. 
• More coffee chats with friends I can't see every month. 

Workout Plan: Focus on Myself

How do I accept myself?

I don't know. I really don't know. Last year pushed me in how I view myself. I had to ask "how can I sit by myself and not grow restless or anxious?" because every time I sat by myself with no distractions I grew restless and anxious.

So how do I create tangible targets for focusing on myself? Do I look in the mirror for hours?

No.

Through my therapist, I've worked on life affirmation statements but alternatively I want to continue tactics that allowed me to live and accept my own world: reading and writing.

I already read and write a lot, however. so let me be specific. I grew out of the habit of reading poetry around 2016 and novels in college. Last year I spent more time reading fiction, like The Three Body Problem Trilogy by Cixin Liu, Star Wars novels, Lilith's Brood by Octavia Butler, and the great Harry Potter re-read.

What I realized is that fiction allows me to detach from myself. While not acceptance, it allows me to have myself alone for company.

I also realized that writing poetry, while not my ultimate artistic pursuit, helped me control myself. Writing, in general, helps with self-control as it helps one organize trauma and life experiences. I left poetry writing because it bore no consequence on my short films which I consider my ultimate pursuit. Yet, I started writing poetry again at the end of last year because I had an idea I felt served best as a poem. I realize I love writing for the sake of writing. I compulsively write because I cannot not write. Thus, not only do I aim to read more fiction, but I want to read more poetry and write more poetry just for myself.

Workout Plan: Gratitude Journal Writing

Last, to accept myself I know I have to accept that I deserve the good things that I have. I struggled with that last year as I felt guilty for my past mistakes. I felt these cumulative mistakes meant I am a mistake and unworthy of all the good things in my life.

How do I deal with it? How do I accept that it's ok to feel good? That it's ok to accept reward and happiness?

I'm not sure. But I aim to try by writing thoughts of gratitude in my journal. I write in my journal what I'm thankful for. It's often as easy as writing a statement of gratitude for my girlfriend or my family's support. It's often as ordinary as "I am grateful for warp stabilizer in Premiere Pro."

But ordinary things matter. Support matters. So to accept myself, I want to accept all the things that help me push forward.

Forward in 2019

What makes workout goals and my usual goals attractive is how defined they are. A tangible goal for a specific target can be accomplished. Accomplishing emotional goals poses difficulty because I am evolving. As I evolve, I have to reckon with what causes pain in a different way. 

Consequently, I cannot look forward to 2019 with hope that everything that ails me will revert or leave without returning. 

What I can look forward to in 2019 is a worthy fight to keeping my stress and my blonde hairs at bay. Every gray or blonde hair should have a purpose. 

29 Going On 80: My 2018

How can a year where so many bad things happened remain a fantastic year?

In a year I began with many questions, I find this question difficult to answer. I began 2018 with questions rooted in optimism and end this year with so much left to reckon with.

It feels odd to accept my year as a good year, given divisive political uncertainties. No one will leave this year unscathed from this year's toxic political discourse. I'll mute my thoughts on that, however.

In my personal life, I end my year with new questions I've had to ask and try to answer, such as:

How do I move forward with two close friends leaving our friendship?

Will my goals feel more daunting as I get older?

Am I a good person?

"Am I a good person" is the question that's haunted me this year. That question leads to others:

Am I making the right decisions? 

Do I deserve the good things I have? 

When I asked these questions, my only answer was "I don't know."

Am I Good Person? 

I began seeing a therapist.

People important in my life supported this decision, though a few asked "Why now" or "Why not before?"

Despite perpetual issues of social literacy and stress, I generally move forward during dark times in my personal life. Breakups, rejections, setbacks always sent me down a dark path of insecurity as I imagine it does for most folks. Like most, I developed my own tactics involving constructive or creative distractions, working with those who support me, and listening to "Let it Go" and P!nk on repeat.

Time heals most emotional wounds. But, stress from a new job (a promotion - a good thing), a new living situation, and an emotionally overwhelming falling out with two close friends led me to bleed stress. In the past, I never saw a therapist during my dark times mostly because it felt inaccessible due to cost. I felt as long as I have a grip on my life, goals, and work I was fine.

When on the reference desk, however, I felt compelled to research everything I felt ailing me. I thought I could solve my own emotional truths. Everyday I woke up at 4 or 5 a.m., 2-3 hours before I had to, and spent the hours before getting ready haunted by past missteps. I compulsively ruminated over past conflicts with people. I ruminated over things that happened in high school and even middle school.

I felt like I was a horrible person. Making all the mistakes I made added up to feelings of guilt and shame. I couldn't stop apologizing to coworkers, to my girlfriend, and to my friends, for minor communication errors.

Every action I took led me to second guess my intent. If I helped a patron I would immediately walk away worried. "Was I too rude to them?" "Did they think I spoke to them fairly?" I would ask coworkers for validation. Helping a patron find a homeless shelter, I felt I did the right thing but then I would feel like a bad person. "Should I celebrate myself for doing good? Shouldn't I just do this just because? Would I have done this in public, or would I ignore this person except in the library?"

I felt guilty for being human.

I exhausted my usual tactics of emotional healing. At a certain point, I realized I can't rely on Dr. Google, and that this research and my ruminations interfered with work and my personal routines. So, I booked a therapy session.

"Should I see a therapist?" If you ask yourself that my answer is yes, if you can within your budget. Therapy works. It's not about treating mental illness. It's about wellness. I chose this action because I wanted to feel well.

Immediately, my therapist diagnosed me with acute anxiety and advised medication. I declined, with the hope that developing new tactics will help. So far, I feel better. I feel supported and my therapist advised me to try to tackle moments of rumination, of social awkwardness, or dark thoughts with life affirmations.

I came up with the following to say during rumination:

• Everyone makes mistakes.
• No one's socially perfect. 
• You are a good person.
• People love you more than you think. 

My therapist then advised me to say "I am a good person" more often. Based on our sessions, she felt I wasn't seeing how I am a good person. I wasn't seeing how others accept me and care for me.

So the answer to my most burning question: I am a good person. I help others. I help myself. Moving forward into the new year, I have to keep saying this: I am a good person. 

A Year of Long-Term Thinking

Reckoning with anxieties and long term issues comes in a year involving general long-term planning. Much of the goals shared in my 2018 goals post focused on setting myself up for this long term. While not successful on some goals, I accomplished a lot.

The big goal was buying a house. I ultimately didn't meet that goal but that's because I decided to wait, save up more, and put a down payment on a larger house I want for my long-term happiness.

I did create a short term savings account and saved nearly $400 each month. I also set up a Roth IRA account for long term savings. Financially I feel more comfortable, when I purchase a house I'll feel cozier.

Seeing a therapist and facing my emotional issues, however, I realized I need to also plan long-term for my emotional health. I explored a few of these questions in my September 2018 post but I needed more clarity. I wanted to understand what will make me fulfilled.

I built my long-term emotional health goals using Steven Covey's "80th Birthday" principle. The clip advises to conceive of one's 80th birthday. Who do you want around you? What do you want to reflect on as a life well lived?

A lot of folks may critique the video from a cynical point of view, but I like it. Asking "What do I want to see in my life as I sit at my 80th birthday?" helped clarify what I want or continue to want in my life.

On my 80th birthday, I want to reflect and feel right saying:

• I spent the most time I could with people I love.
• With my job, I did right in improving or serving the lives of others.
• I made personally fulfilling short films that reflect emotional realities of small town life.
• I lived up to my childhood wanderlust in traveling worldwide.

2018 Was a Good Year for Me

I've often defined a good year in terms of goal accomplishments. Looking at 2018, I feel I let some goals slip but I nailed down the goals important to me.

More importantly, I began building the future I want. Emotional clarity fulfilled my year more than any single goal. 

Yet, I accomplished many of my goals and worked towards satisfying my 80 year old self. Mexico and Japan lived up to my childhood wanderlust. I finished post production on my short film Will and I wrote several scripts. More people passed the GED because of my assistance at the library. 

Most importantly, I made time for supportive people.

A Criteria for Prioritizing Destinations: The Most Martin Thing I've Ever Done

I'm WAY too excited about a criteria I created! I'm not sure if anyone should have excitement over criteria or organization but I love it and I'm sharing this criteria (via my blog to my faithful readers)!

A couple of months ago I created a four point criteria to use when prioritizing travel destinations. I wrote down four criteria to define what I find rewarding in a destination based on previous travels and to help prioritize where I want to travel next.

I felt the list illuminated why some destinations attract me more than others and it ultimately illuminated what I seek in life through experiences such as travel. But, it also illuminates my type of crazy.

Before I shared the specific criteria points, my friend Kevin immediately interrupted my announcement to him and said "That's the most you thing you've ever done." 

He's right. It is a very me thing to do. It's a very me thing to consider travel, where rewards often arise from supreme serendipity, and impose my rigid way of thinking to how I consider a destination.

Make no mistake: serendipity and in the moment discoveries have generated much reward in my travels and life. But developing this criteria helped me realize what I love most about travel. I think it helped me separate myself from a perception of travel as "getting away from it all" or "it's a thing you do." For me, travel is a way for me to extend my love of narratives. It's an extension of what I love in movies and books. The world is my library. 

But libraries are daunting with so much to choose from. So I like knowing a bit about why I choose a place or what I find rewarding in a vacation to understand what attracts me to a new narrative. 

The Criteria

The criteria for prioritizing destinations:

1. Jules Verne reward - places that enable me to feel like an adventurer, but not just in lost civilizations. I'll explain later. 
2. Star Wars reward - places that make me feel like I'm in a science fiction world, most likely in a Star Wars movie or book. In other words, it feels other worldly or futuristic. 
3. History nerd reward - places that reward my love of history. Pretty simple.
4. Food reward - I like to eat really tasty food. Pretty simple. 

Did I Need to Do This?

Did I need to write this at all?

No.

But I found this list helpful. Organization provides clarity and this list provided clarity for me. It's less a list of how I'm supposed to travel than a reflection of what I already love. Most destinations I've loved don't quite cover all four criteria yet I relish the simplicity in which it reflects lifelong pursuits of knowledge. 

Traveling serves as a more intensive and immersive opportunity for knowledge. Ultimately, reading a book or watching a movie isn't the same as being in a place. Traveling provides what a book cannot replicate. It extends my knowledge on a more sensory level. It's one thing to see a picture of a French bakery and an entirely different but connected thing to smell a French bakery. 

Experience allows us to construct more useful knowledge. I'm the kind of person who would rather learn by doing - a method I learned to do the hard way after anxiety and over thinking (my prior mode) led me to do nothing. Travel allows knowledge by doing. 

A Narrative Rarely Shared

A particularly hard to define criteria for me was the Jules Verne criteria. What does that mean? At first I thought that meant finding "lost" or "adventure story-worthy" places, but that wasn't quite it. No - it's about the discovery of a narrative rarely shared. 

I remember my 10th grade World History class hardly touching on the history of Asia, Africa, South America, and other places not connected to Europe and Euro-American events. This bothered me: we learned the historical narrative that relates to less than 2 billion people on a planet that currently hosts 7-8 billion! That's a huge narrative missing!

I asked the teacher why and her rebuttal was that we didn't have enough time: "Research and read about it on your own."

I think defining the Jules Verne criteria led me to understand I've always had a lifelong pursuit of narratives missing. I don't like things missing - it's a puzzle without pieces and my brain doesn't like that. It also diminishes the humanity of a world that has more people than the entirety of Europe or North America combined. 

I want to know this narrative. Hence, the Jules Verne criteria. I love the novels of Jules Verne as he deals with characters discovering the less known or forgotten narratives of Earth.

This isn't just history either. For instance, it wasn't until I travelled to Japan that I really saw Shintoism and Buddhism in a deeper, more meaningful way. It was never part of any meaningful discourse in my education yet visiting Meiji Shrine proved a more rewarding experience than the Eiffel Tower because the narrative it produced sparked new knowledge and a new sense of seeing the world. This was a cultural narrative rarely shared.

Missing

There's no one way to travel. Travel means discovery and immersion, but the way that happens for each of us depends on a lot of factors. 

For me, what I ultimately find isn't necessarily what I was searching for, but I create this criteria to understand what I can search for and what will enable me to fulfill the lifelong pursuit of personal development and better understanding of a world I barely understand.

Questions Not Asked: A Summer 2018 Update

I began 2018 with so many questions and while I've shared the travel experiences I enjoyed in Mexico and Japan, I haven't written on my year quite yet.

So where am I?

Answers...

Good news to the January 2018 Martin: your hairline remains!

Bad news: you don't own a house. And that's fine!

Announcing an interest in buying a house feels being a way too hot person whose Facebook status went from "In a Relationship" to "Single."Your friend who's in real estate private messages you more than before and random emails and letters don't stop from mortgage lenders. My status is now "Looking to Buy" so now I receive messages like "How u doing?" or "DTB?" (down to buy).

Granted, these folks make their money with marketing such as these emails and letters. I have no qualms with them.

It's a privileged place, to a degree. I'm at a point I hoped for, dreamed for, and worked for: the point where I can make investments for my future. I can start a Roth IRA. I can have a high yield savings account to save up for a down payment on a house.

I'm glad to be here and I know this status won't last. Somewhere in the future a hiccup will occur: furloughs, tax raises, and other hijinks that my occupation as public librarian may bring forth. This knowledge motivates me to invest now while I can because who knows what will happen.

So I started a Roth IRA. I do have a high yield savings. But I'm waiting until after the new year in 2019 to grind down on home-buying. Why? So I can put down enough to avoid paying heavily on my credit line and so I can purchase a detached house. Initially I thought of buying a condo or townhome but I decided that's not me. If I have to take part in this proverbial debutante ball, I want a house I can live in long enough to not deal with it again for a xwhile. That means a not-quite but close dream house with land acreage and rooms I can fill with books!

That means a larger down payment. By December I should have enough for the down payment.

On non-home matters this year, I have found more answers or solutions to my long term questions. But much of what I conceived involves financial concerns, travel concerns, film concerns - quantifiable questions. These concerns have resolutions or answers.

But what about the qualitative questions, or the questions that can't be defined in a set end-goal. What are the questions I didn't ask? How will it feel to be Martin?

I didn't begin this year asking questions for feelings or emotions. I didn't ask "how would I feel when my friends turned 30 or when my mom turned 60?"

"Why am I scared of death?"

Wait what?

Questions


When you read that segue you may think how do I go from "down payment almost ready" to "I'm terrified of dying."

Well, that's my brain right now. I require action and I need to accomplish goals. I also have to read a book or watch The Clone Wars if I wake up too early and can't sleep because if I remain still my anxiety walls fall and all the anxiety armies standing at gates flood in.

I think many of our brains work like this. But I never ask these questions. I start years working towards answers for quantifiable questions or tactics for accomplishing goals and I never consider the tactics for reckoning with my humanity. I remove myself from that because I think I'm a robot.

But despite my inability to articulate my emotions and to reveal inner truths the way others find easily, I am human. Or at least I have human emotions programmed in me.

I ask "why am I afraid of death" because I worry about death. A lot. I wrote about it in my Japan trip post. As I plan for the long term, a very necessary task, it sets forth actual reckoning with the idea that I may die or people I love will die. When I discussed my plans for a Roth IRA, my Mom stopped me. "I don't want to think about you when you're 60, because I'll be 91 if I'm still here."

I have no way to conceive of death in a way that satisfies me even a little bit. I hope the cure for mortality is found. I also wouldn't mind becoming a cyborg. But I don't want to think of just sleeping. I want to have the forest I can wander in with Angie, with my friends, with my family, and with my dog.

So that's an eternal question I never ask that I need to ask: how do I make peace with endings? 

I've spent my whole life working towards becoming or seeming more human. I've tried for more open expressions when it's not natural to me. I try to smile more even though I'm not naturally inclined. I try to share glee like when my friends celebrate - a sincere glee. But it's not a dial for me - I'm off or really on. Like intense weird on. I'm either meh or "YAY!!!" It's not bipolar. It's intensity.

I've tried to act more human and measure my intensity and outward humanity. But I haven't given much consideration for the humanity - the fears, hopes - that still live in me. I haven't really made peace with how I view "loneliness as a war." Despite my aversion to humanity, I still want to share pieces of me. But what pieces do I share? I share my intense love of World War 1 and movies, but I feel I underwhelm my loved ones with very little sharing of my humanity and struggles.

I've spent my whole life oversharing the wrong pieces. So what are the pieces people really want? And how do I share them?

I struggle asking these questions because there are not hard set answers or resolutions. I cannot find answers for these questions over a year. I can't write a to-do list and underneath "finish the second draft of Hunters" write "figure out your fear of death by September." These remain eternal questions that I will spend my whole life pursuing answers for.

Maybe that's the piece I need to share: the pursuit, the struggle that I have with how my humanity evolves and how my answers to these questions change.

But I need to remain forward. I can work on these questions and still move forward with the life I want.

Forward

Despite my anxieties, I remain hopeful at what my life may become and where I stand now. I write this post with less than 6 months away from 30. I write this post grateful that I have reaped the rewards of work, of my loved ones' support, and I remain vigilant.

I can plan for my financial future. I have more scripts to write (two have production potential). I finished my short film Will this summer. I accepted a promotion at another library branch.

There remains work ahead. There remains struggle ahead. Anxieties never go away, but I can only give so much time to anxiety. I will push through this year with ample savings, ample screenwriting, trips to Asheville and St. Augustine, and embrace the 50 List.

My Spirit Wants a Forest to Wander In: Japan 2018

How the hell do you tackle Japan?

I started with this question and no definite answers. After 7 days in Tokyo, I still have no definite answers.

As a writer I write characters to be agents of their story, to drive the events in a plot.  But at a certain point, I've learned in my travels, your experience has to be driven by where you are. As much as I love building itineraries and creating narratives I have to let my trip adapt and change what I do.

Japan forced me to reckon with the constraints of my itinerary more than any country. Most folks who dream of Japan have a vision of Japan already set by "Cool Japan" pop culture such as anime and manga. We dream of the Japanese sushi every travel guide devours on Travel Channel shows or we dream of a city built in what we conceive as the future because of Blade Runner or Ghost in the Shell. I'll confess that I wanted to see a Japan I saw in the chambara films I loved in high school.

Each ward and neighborhood in Tokyo, however, contains a multitude of threads that during my journey I felt compelled to pull. Pulling these new threads led me down my favorite paths and towards my favorite moments in Japan.

Tackling Japan

Initially I planned a Tokyo plus Kyoto trip itinerary, but with 7 days in Japan I realized this plan would not serve me well. In Hong Kong, I initially planned to balance my experience with a side trip to a  more historical or natural adjacent destination (in China or Vietnam) but opted against this idea to my benefit. Instead, Hong Kong held plenty of landscapes, traditional culture, but a contemporary life worth experiencing. I decided to follow this template to tackle Japan by staying exclusively in the Tokyo area.

I booked one day trip for myself to Nikko National Park, however. Nikko National Park has a reputation for beautiful scenery near mountains, an active volcano, and the park hosts the tomb of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate that preceded Japan's modernization during the Meiji Restoration. 

Any hesitation I had for an exclusively Tokyo home base left me after I lucked out on a hotel in Akasaka. Ultimately I found Minato, the ward of Tokyo I stayed in, and Akasaka, the district within this ward, convenient yet peaceful. Akasaka served as the ideal place to find inspiration in Tokyo and Japan.

Apparitions of Tokyo

Tokyo is a city that I look back with memories that seem to be apparitions. I would start my day with a purpose or destination and on my way find new threads to pull on that I pursued. Consequently, Tokyo left me with stray moments that feel so slight yet were magical in totality. These moments include:

• EVERYONE CROSSING AT SHIBUYA CROSSING AND RUNNING INTO EACH OTHER BUT STILL IN AN ORDERLY FASHION
• takoyaki balls with the dark but sweet sauce (and not mayonnaise -- my request)
• Metro train rides on the weekdays with men in business suits quietly balancing reading amidst a frenzy of people closing in
• Taking shoes off to step into Nikko Tosho-gu as I listen to the tour guide speak in my headset
• matcha ice cream
• 7 story department stores with the basement floor selling $25 USD cantaloupes for Mother's Day
• a fisherman's lone boat on Lake Chunzenji
• cherry blossom stragglers on trees near Kegon Falls
• a rotation of short films by Kondoh Akino exhibiting at Mori Art Museum
• people staking their place at the Tokyo City View at Roppongi Hills, lounging for the sunset view of Minato and the horizon below us
• ROBOTS!!! (specifically Asimo at Miraikan)
• placing my feet onto the hard rocks underneath the ocean at Odaiba Seaside Park, as locals relish their final Golden Week day in the sun
• Koinobori streaming in the wind before Children's Day near 21_21 Design Sight Museum
• Otaku geeking out over the endless floors of manga in Akihabara
• ANDROIDS!!! (also at Miraikan)
• a bondage lesson in the back of a Shinjuku gallery exhibiting photography depicting bondage
• print screens of pines in the mist and wind from the 16th century (by Tohaku)
• Bamboo trees peeking out at Zojo-ji
• the hidden forest below Tokyo Tower
• a Teppanyaki chef meticulously cutting sweet potatoes and Kobe beef
• well dressed hosts at my hotel's breakfast buffet with a "Good Morning" ready to-go as I spent every morning with coffee, croissants, and burdock root
• Takahasi Korekiyo Memorial Park sliced out on the way from my hotel to Aoyama Station -- my go-to refuge for a coffee and an audiobook

I found Tokyo best suits the photo-collages by Sohei Nishino, whose work I found at 21_21 Design Sight.  I felt he captured what I love of a place like Tokyo or other places I've been -- the dynamic individual experiences at play. Tokyo, like the individual component images collected in Nishino's collages, possesses a vast compilation of individual moments and experiences that were transcendent in their totality.

Shinto Shrines and Buddhist Temples

While I relished the individual components of the Tokyo I traveled through, I pulled a new thread that I continued to pull elsewhere in the city: Shinto shrines. I found the most transcendent moments I had in Tokyo through this thread on my journey.

Shintoism describes a way of life more than a religion. Shintoism is about communicating with unseen forces and spirits, kami, that exist in everything. I worry I am oversimplifying Shintoism so I encourage you to read more.

When I conceived of my Japan trip I knew that temples and shrines would serve a major part in connecting me with a timeless if not traditional element of the country. I didn't initially conceive of how Shinto shrines defined a peace in me. After talking with friends I've found this new peace difficult to describe, but I'll try.

See, I am not spiritual and certainly not religious. I'm not a militant atheist -- I use the term agnostic to describe myself. I simply do not know how to measure what is not in front me, so to speak. I take no peace in this belief but it best represents what I believe is the truth -- that I don't know.

If anything rattles me, it's uncertainty, and if anything scares me it's uncertainty of what happens after...I'm gone.

Sometimes I think of death or I think of life post-death which is no life. Just a scare -- a car merging when it shouldn't, a turbulent plane that had to land in Edmonton because of cold winds in Calgary -- cascades my thoughts down a dark rabbit hole.

I do not want to die.

Granted, most folks share this fear and we do the same thing -- we carry on with our lives and try to do the best we can to be decent people. Eventually my depressing cascade tumbles with new, more positive thoughts. But underneath my optimism and a lust for life lies a shattering anxiety over death.

I describe my fear because in Japan I found myself in Shinto shrines or Buddhist temples with affiliated shrines like Zojo-ji, Nikko, or Sengaku-ji. These shrines provided a new sense peace in regards to my fear of death.

In particular, my first shrine -- the Meiji Shrine -- introduced what I found a powerful concept. The government erected this shrine prior to WWII (and rebuilt it after) as a way of communicating with the Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken. The shrine provided a sacred place for their spirits to live on with us in Japan. Inside the city of Tokyo lied this magnificent forest past gargantuan Torii gates, a forest planted for their spirits to wander in.

That's when I realized: if I die, I want a forest to wander in. I want a forest for the ones I love to wander with me.

I remain worried if not uncertain that I cannot have a real post-death forest to wander in. Yet, I found peace knowing I can continue the work I have towards creating a metaphorical forest for my loved ones to wander in. That even without an actual spirit, my human self has many "forests" to wander in with those I love deeply.

Shintoism's belief in communicating with kami leaves me with peace as well. The idea that who I love will continue to communicate with me in the same way people share themselves to the spirits of Meiji and Shoken gives me peace. In a spiritual way, I will continue to communicate with them. I have no physical shrines, but my writings, images, and films will communicate to those left here or to my loved ones. My paper trail can be my forest.

Could this moment of clarity or moment of peace have happened elsewhere? I don't know.

I had this moment in Japan, however. I can thank Japan for this moment.

Final Threads

How can I impose an arc or theme in a place where I can look closely in the Tokyo National Museum at priceless Heian art, then scarf down tempura green beans, and finally sit down on a floor AND WATCH A ROBOT KICK A SOCCER BALL?!?!

There's been an intuitive drive in me to travel to Asia. That drive slowed down as the reality of a post-undergrad life and its financial realities sunk in. I worried Japan would be way over my price range or annual leave range. Yet I did it. With Hong Kong and Tokyo in my life, I have no idea why my drive slowed down for this region. In fact, I don't know why I didn't travel here sooner.

I want Japan again. I want the threads I can find here. But I must relish the new threads I will pull in the future.  

I Went for Tacos and Mole: My Trip to Mexico

For someone like me, who relishes routine and becomes grumpy at changes traveling is the ultimate challenge.

With travel comes the reality of routines not always working. It's nice and always important to research and have plans. It's also important to not panic when those plans fall through.

There's a blind faith that's required for traveling. You have to have blind faith that you can go to foreign country where you don't know the language completely, you don't know the landscape and terrain, and you have no idea what will happen...and everything will be fine. You have to have blind faith that everything will work out in the end and that you will enjoy your vacation.

These were my thoughts on the 4th night of my trip in Mexico.

When I saw that a tour from San Cristobal de Las Casas -- my 2nd home base in my 1 week trip to Mexico -- that was going to Palenque started at 4am and in a round-trip came back at 10pm I thought "Yes, why not?" 

As we take the back roads along Mayan villages on the tour, this blind faith is tested first as we are stopped by villagers with machetes asking for money. The nearly 20 of us in the van thought "what's going on" and "shit" as the driver laughed it off and said "they just want money. It's all fine." 

That night we find out the road back is blocked. The drivers find out out. During the drive back all the tourist buses/vans (in a convoy) stop and all the drivers congregate to discuss what's going on and options. Our driver comes back on. We find out that because the road is blocked, we cannot be brought back within the time the drivers were paid for (4am - 10pm). Without missing a beat, they place us into taxis --  2-3 folks in one car at a time and for the next 3-4 hours I just sit quietly as two drivers' USB playlist plays everything from "Total Eclipse of the Heart" to Daft Punk in a night drive in the Chiapas highlands. 

At 11:30pm I'm dropped off in the main square (Zocalo) instead of my lodging in San Cristobal where I was picked up. The driver wasn't sure where to go to drop me off at "Zocalo" so as we officially entered San Cristobal he stopped in the middle of the road to discuss with another driver he had never met before to get directions to Zocalo. 

Everything I expected on the tour in terms of scheduling and return was absolutely changed and unexpected. But, how did my night turn out ultimately? Fine. I arrived back at my place thanks to another taxi I took from Zocalo and slept in.

Everything was fine.

"Please Don't Go"

Not everyone was on board with my Mexico trip. Mexico has a bad rap in the U.S. and other places. "I'm going to Mexico" is a statement that I found when said aloud to others elicits several responses such as:

"Is it safe?"
"Please don't go." (Dad)
"Please don't go." (Mom)
"Don't eat the chorizo."
"You're going to poop so much."
"Are you going to Cancun?"
"I was mugged at gunpoint."
"Is it too late to cancel?" (Dad)
"Are you going on a mission trip?"
"Don't walk at night."
 "Cool."

Many people I knew were worried about me -- my parents most of all. Then again, my parents worried about me going to Canada and Austria.

Reading my story of blind faith, it's easy to think that my experience is typical for Mexico, with villagers armed with machetes and eerie nights driving with strangers. That certainly wasn't my take from the experience. Take from my story that despite my worries (I was worried too) everything went well. The reality is: I had a wonderful time in Mexico.

Make no mistake, blind faith is best complemented with planning and preparation. I made sure I never crossed into neighborhoods in Mexico City that I shouldn't be in. I generally took taxis everywhere.

At the same, Mexico isn't bad. I'm not talking about Cancun/Mayan Riviera which is a fine part of Mexico to travel to. I'm talking about Mexico City and Chiapas, the places I went to. Like Peru and other places in South America I've been to there's some superficial grittiness. I didn't come for that. I came for human experience of Mexico.

Politics and Human Experiences

Rick Steves has a lecture called "Travel as a Political Act" where he describes how travel enables a political action due to human engagement. Travel removes you from the often dehumanizing news one may hear or read of another nation to experience the day-to-day realities of how folks live.

When someone tells you all Mexicans are rapists, for instance, you can tear down that belief because of an interaction with an Uber driver or because the kid of your hostel's cooks played peekaboo with you at the dining room like all kids do, among other interactions.

Politics and showing up Trump wasn't my reason for going to Mexico. But it's important to recognize the politics of travel or political differences because most folks won't go to Mexico because "You'll get kidnapped." That wasn't my reality. That doesn't mean it can't happen. It happens. It happens in Mexico just like it happens in Atlanta and just like it happens in Paris, the city I was closest to being scammed. I certainly had a bit of Montezuma's Revenge but Mexico is too different, too multi-faceted to fit one scenario or experience.
 

The human experience -- the experience of culture, of art, of general day-to-day life outside of my normal way of living -- is my main reason for loving travel. I can't read people but instead of falling into cynicism or blame over this I have instead found trying to understand people to be a lifelong learning opportunity. I've never not been fascinated by different cultures and art.

Now, let's be real: as much as I wanted to see Frida Kahlo's art or see the ruins of Palenque, my favorite human experience is eating. Why would I choose Mexico? I went for tacos and mole.

Food Tour

My first day after my flight I went on a foodie tour via Sabores, a 4.5 hour walking tour of Centro Historico.

Centro Historico is one of the more walkable districts in Mexico, at least it was for me walking from Palacio de Bellas Artes to Zocalo (Plaza de la Constitution). It's the primary tourist area so police are everywhere monitoring traffic. It was our area for hunting for the more traditional cuisine North Americans and Europeans associate with Mexico.

Four others -- 2 U.S. citizens and 2 Canadians -- joined me. First, we had traditional Mole (!) in an Oaxacan restaurant. Oaxacan cuisine is to Mexican food what Sichuan is to Chinese food: it's the best food region in a great food culture.

But the true delight of the tour was Mercado San Juan, a market where the whole of Mexican cuisine has a place. We had traditional Mexican ham and Oaxacan cheese (which has a Mozzarella texture). We also had grasshoppers covered in lime and salt for flavor (which tastes fine) and frozen ants we had to hold in our palate to warm it up before eating (also fine).

Our last stop was a market stall. Our guide translated a conversation with a lady who ran a produce stand. This woman loved food and loved what she did, going into the nuts and bolts of how Mexican squash grows, sharing tastes (cilantro) and smells (lemongrass) culminating with a flan cheesecake topped with the produce stand's fresh fruit and an edible flower.

Bonita!

What drew me to Mexico was this experience. I grew up in a community that has a substantial Latin American (mostly Mexican American) population. Therefore Mexican-American (Tex-Mex, Southwestern) food was everyone's go-to ethnic food. Even now my go-to restaurant in Atlanta is El Mexicano in East Atlanta Village.

So when I write that I came to Mexico for food, it was important to add onto what community has given me. This means trying a ceviche tostada at a food stand. This means having a caldo -- a traditional soup/stew in Chiapas. This means cafe de olla made with single origin Chiapas coffee beans...in Chiapas!

Schedule Change

Food's role in representing the human experience makes every trip for me worthwhile if not magical. But I wanted to penetrate a Mexican cultural experience deeper than my love of tacos.

Before I go on trips I'll usually read a few books to gear me up for my trip. For instance, I read Lady in Gold before I went to Austria which helped me gain a richer love of Gustav Klimt when I experienced his masterpieces. Before I went to Mexico I read some poetry -- particularly poems by Chiapas native Rosario Castellanos -- but also a book titled Frida Kahlo at Home by Suzanne Barbezat that detailed the influence of Kahlo's homes in her art, from La Casa Azul in Mexico City to Detroit.

Consequently I wanted to dig into the art of Mexico. At first I expected this experience to focus on mainstream Mexican art -- Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, Juan O'Gorman, and so forth. A new path emerged, however, due to two reasons and ultimately this path led me to a different but richer artistic discovery: indigenous or pre-Hispanic art.

The first reason: flight change. I had scheduled my flight anticipating an early arrival in Mexico City on a Sunday in order to go to a museum or two before nightfall. Unfortunately my flight was res-scheduled for a later time which would cause me to arrive after most museums were closed. The first leg of my Mexico City stay would only be for Sunday night and Monday, as I would leave Tuesday for a 4 night stay in San Cristobal de Las Casas. So what's the problem? Well, museums are closed on Mondays.

The core part of my 7 day trip would be based in San Cristobal de Las Casas, a place where I had no plans to experience Mexican art. Yet, San Cristobal would be the place I would begin a new and different path of arts discovery, beginning with visiting the ruins of Palenque.

Pre-Hispanic Art in Chiapas

I've already written about the experience of traveling to Palenque. This was the tour that started at 4am and ended at 11:30pm (original end time, 10pm). Included in the tour were stops at enormously gorgeous pieces of scenery: Cascadas Agua Azul, which was lovely in spite of the rows of tourist stands for food and handicrafts, and Cascadas Misol Ha, a place that blew me away in its unreal and cinematic beauty.

But Palenque was the show stopper. I've already been fortunate to have seen Machu Picchu and other older ruins but it's always a breathtaking spectacle to witness a place like Palenque. Witnessing the pyramidal temples blooming out of lush jungle left my tour members and me threadbare with awe.

Aside from the ruins themselves, this was where I first became enamored with pre-Hispanic art. The Temple of the Cross occupies a spot in what is labeled "Plaza de la Cruz." First, the structure itself mesmerized me. I stepped up to the top of the pyramid and relished my bird eye's view of the rest of the core Palenque city temples and structures. But as I walked around the structure I began to see something greater: the remains of the art by the indigenous Mayans who ruled in the city.

Throughout Palenque stucco and building sculptures remain. Those are wonderful, but the paintings left on the walls inside the temple-- both geometric and figurative -- left me without words. I was humbled by the fact that art created by an artisan 1,000 years ago -- someone's imprint -- has remained for me to view in 2018.

Despite the long drive back, this imprint remained in my head the next morning when I walked around the town of San Cristobal looking for one of the oldest churches there, Iglesia Santo Domingo. Iglesia Santo Domingo is next to a former convent that houses a municipal museum which very little stuff to note, but upstairs is a textile museum, the Centro de Textiles del Mundo Maya. When you read that -- "textile museum" -- it seems stale. I thought it might be but I was wrong. Instead, I was entranced.

The museum was designed and curated to represent the tradition of crafts in Mayan indigenous culture. While the height of Mayan cultural output waned after the "post-classic period," the indigenous people in Chiapas and the surrounding region continue to create absolutely stunning textiles. The museum had fabrics dating as far back as the turn of the century that showcased the recurring geometric patterns, birds, fauna and flora, and people that had been passed on through generations.

Once again, I was humbled by this imprint. The difference was that whereas Palenque had the artistic imprint of one or more artisans, this was an imprint carried by generations of Mayan and indigenous women. This was a cultural imprint that began thousands of years ago and remains vibrant, or at least it was in the tent covered stands outside the church where locals sell their crafts to tourists. It was evident through the collection of fabrics of different periods that these patterns were consistent and similar. It's humbling and astounding.

Museo Frida Kahlo

The textiles I saw in Centro de Textiles del Mundo Maya and the art in Palenque was in my head as I flew back from Chiapas to Mexico City for the 2nd leg of my stay in the city. For my last night I planned to stay in Coyoacan, a neighborhood adjacent to the University City and known for art lovers and Bohemians. It was where Frida Kahlo's family settled and where she remained for the bulk of her life.

Museo Frida Kahlo is a busy place. I was warned by a couple in San Cristobal to get my ticket early as the museum sells out fast. The ticket specifies a time when you are allowed in and it also grants you access into Museo Diego Rivera or Anahuacalli Museum. Despite the name and association, the Anahuacalli Museum doesn't really cover Diego Rivera's works -- most of his and Frida Kahlo's works are in other museums around Mexico City among other places. Instead it covers his collection of pre-Hispanic art.

The museum is designed to be a wildlife sanctuary and the building, designed by Juan O'Gorman, replicates a pre-Hispanic temple. Since I had some time from my flight arrival before my ticket time to Museo Frida Kahlo, I took advantage of the 2 for 1 deal. While the museum did include drawings and sketches by Diego Rivera of some of his murals, the museum was full of figures and figurines collected by Rivera that represents the scope of pre-Hispanic art. The sculptures and figures with seemingly deformed faces are weird for a lot of folks but I was quite enamored with the motifs of fertility, of connections to nature and one's terrain, were present.

All this led to the final action I took before leaving Mexico: visiting Museo Frida Kahlo. The line was around the block for those who had not purchased tickets before. It was an international crowd attracted by the allure of Kahlo -- her art, her presence, her life. It's unquestionably the most expensive museum in Mexico City at MX$220.

How did I take it? I loved it. I was transcended as soon as I walked in and saw the courtyard. What can I say? Going into the mind of an artist is never not amazing for me, but when I saw the art in person I definitely geeked out.

The museum's collection was potent to me for other reasons. After the pre-Hispanic art I experienced Kahlo's art spoke to me in a new way. Rather than just the rawness of how personal her art is, I was amazed with the connections I felt between her art and pre-Hispanic art. One painting had a child with a bird on his shoulder which reminded me of the presence of birds on so much pre-Hispanic art the textiles. A special exhibit included her wardrobe and pieces she wore such as her Tehuantepec-inspired folk dresses. My head was swirling with pre-Hispanic folk art and I loved it all. 

But Did I Love Mexico?

Mexico doesn't stir me like Chile, Peru, Austria or other places I've been, but I was stirred. I did love my experiences and I was overwhelmed by the glances of humanity I was lucky to witness, whether the pre-Hispanic art and crafts or the warmth of folks I met in taxis or in cafes.

I am thankful I got to meet Mexico. And we'll meet again in my life.

2018: The New Questions I Hope to Answer

There are so many questions coming into 2018.

Will I finally buy a new house?

Will my car finally break down and require me to buy a new one?

Will my hairline recede more? 

Will the fatness of youth return? 

Will I have a child?

FYI: I'm not having a child.

But this year is going to be fun...and difficult.

Why difficult? It's going to be a difficult because I do have these and many more questions but there are no definite answers. That's also fun, right?

Now, I do have goals with reasonable answers worked out and with progress made. For instance, I have progress made on my goal to finish my short film Will,  as I'm working with my editor currently. And my goal to go to Mexico and Tokyo? Plane tickets are already booked for both destinations and Mexico is happening in less than a month (with lodging and food tours booked).

Yet, these are goals I've tackled before. I've traveled. I've written and directed short films that I've overseen in post-production. I have scripts I need to polish and complete, but I've done that before. These are goals that I plan and scratch off every year.

Now, there are new goals I am unfamiliar on how to tackle like starting a tax deferred retirement plan or buying a house.

Wait.

Let's take a beat. Did I just say buying a house?

I said I'm buying a house

I said that. I haven't taken any action beyond contacting a friend/real estate broker who has let me in on the properties accessible. Thus I've been browsing, determining what location suits my desires and wants but also serves as a meaningful investment.


Last year I talked about looking into different areas and locations to determine where I should live. I've been talking about this step. I don't like just talking and not doing. So this is the year I'm doing it.

The Long Term

This is the year I do more in regards to long term investment. Once I graduated with my MLIS and moved out to a new job, it was only a matter of time before the goals I set forth in the 30 List were completed and new goals would arise.


This coming year is the transition. It's my last year of my twenties. I'll be turning 30 soon. I enjoy my day job, I have the opportunity to write and direct movies, and I've developed a lifestyle that I enjoy. It's time for a new curveball and solidifying the work I've completed into long-term aspirations.

This means a financial future. This means having money withdrawn from a tax deferred retirement plan now so when I am able to retire I will in good financial health. This means starting home ownership now so I can take advantage of the good credit I've developed over the past few years and build an asset (and pay less on mortgage than I do on rent).

While I haven't written about them in my blog -- they're less sexy than my writings about travel and filmmaking -- my financial future has all percolated with me for a while now. I've written in other posts about how I work to live up to the experiences I've dreamed of having when I was middle school and high school -- experiences like travel and filmmaking. Now I need to work towards living up to the experiences I imagine now: having a home, traveling to a new country every year, having a car that doesn't have a warning light on, helping people in my day job, more film festivals under my belt, and more.

This coming year will involve me setting up those roots for the long term.

Looking Forward

Every year I start off by contemplating "where do I want to be at the end of the year?" What do I want to look back and be happy I accomplished over the year?


There are so many questions to 2018 I can't answer, including that one. I have to embrace this uncertainty.

Note: I generally prefer certainty.

The End of 2017

Politically speaking, I don't know how we survived 2017.

I'm reticent to say "We survived." My reticence is not due to sentiment but in superstition. I don't want to say "We survived" before the year ends only to have incompetent leaders do incompetent things that will lead to calamity.

Politically speaking (for the U.S. at least) this has been at best an anxious year and at worst the beginnings of the end of the world as we know it (in regards to our social and political stability). Make no mistake: while I mostly discuss my personal goals in my blog posts, I've had the same experiences as many of you.  It's hard for me to not check Reuters every hour thinking if not anticipating a new catastrophic decision.

Last year I wrote about my 50 List and said the following: "no man is powerful enough to curb my ambition and the path I've worked hard to forge." I've aimed to live by that statement this year, that no matter how toxic our political atmosphere may be, I will continue to work towards my personal future.

Well, how did I do?

As I've written about earlier this year, it's impossible to complete 100% of one's goals. It's just not going to happen. In that post, I've asked "what were my goals really about." Now I ask: what was my year really about?

I've completed a substantial portion of my goals, both in 2017 and in my seasonal to-do lists.
Some of the things I've done this year include:

• Having croissants in a small Parisian boulangerie
• Seeing the Eiffel Tower
• Standing in a Roman theatre
• Having real dim sum and char siu in Hong Kong
• Standing (in awe) at the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque in Istanbul
• Feeling how cold the wind in the Grand Canyon feels
• Nearly passing out hiking in Cathedral Rock near Sedona
• Completing principal photography on a new short film
• Writing countless scripts
• Having my short film was shown at two film festivals (Chattanooga and Skyline Film Festivals)
• Tasting shrimp and grits in Charleston
• (Proudly) serving as the best man to my best friend's wedding while another best friend officiated.

A Lifestyle

This was a year that I could stand at the edge of my 30 List and see the 50 List on the horizon. If the 30 List was about getting myself to finally work toward the person my high school and middle school self dreamed of being, the 50 List is about make this pursuit a lifestyle. While the 30 List was more specific ("Hike Machu Picchu") and about check marks, I've purposely tried to make the 50 List less specific. It's no longer about writing check marks on a list as much as it's about having a lifestyle I've nurtured and worked towards.

The road towards the life I want isn't as curvy and unpaved as it was when I was 22.  Now, the road is paved. It has some curves (because life and the unexpected happens). But this was the year I was able to finally complete goals as part of a general, routine lifestyle. Filmmaking, writing and traveling are no longer dreams and bullet points on a list but a part of how I live, as part of my work/life balance.

That being said, there remain challenges and I will never not have goals. Now my ambitions towards a longer future -- owning a home, getting a new car eventually -- will post interesting bumps towards this lifestyle. After I buy a house, how long before I travel again? I will deal with that as it comes.

Relationships

This year was also about my relationships. It was about the work in holding positive relationships. It was about spending more time with friends and family (which includes my pup). It was about the continued work in holding a positive relationship with myself.

The truth is, I've never had a tremendous amount of self-worth. As I've written about in this post I'm not neurotypical. Before I had the words for who I am I was made aware of what I'm not for most of my whole life. While I feel better if not more positive about myself I still let my insecurities get the best of me. I've always felt like a burden -- that I'm high maintenance, that people want to spend time without me because they feel wired being around my wired self.

This year has seen me still deal with this insecurity. I'll never not deal with this. I'll never not feel like a burden. I'll never not feel self-conscious when someone says they were joking and I didn't realize it. But I've dealt with what I have and my insecurities in a way that's reasonably healthy. I've also improved at discussing who I am with close friends and others who have provided continued support and validation of my worth.

The continued development of my relationship to self in 2017 has been complemented in my relationships with others. A highlight of my year has certainly been my friends' wedding. I was quite humbled to see their happiness, to be an active part of their special day as a best man, and to play a part in an unforgettable weekend.

Likewise, I was able to have two successful day trips with my Habersham/lifer friends: one to Asheville and one to Charleston. This will become a priority in my future: having at least 1 day trip with my best friends.

I also entered this year determined to spend more time with Rory not just at home but out and about in town. Each weekend I visit my folks I take Rory out somewhere -- to hike, to eat, or to have coffee with. She's been on a couple of longer trips to restaurants in North GA and I've been successful in having our family join us. For her 10th birthday we took her to a coffeeshop and gave her a homemade birthday dog cookie. Now that she's 10 and now that I no longer live with her I want to continue spending as much time with her as possible.

In Short

I look back at my 2017 with an reasonable amount of satisfaction. There are threads still loose: Will, my short film, needs completion, and I still have more moments this year to experience with friends and family. Yet, the narrative of 2017 is stronger than 2007 because I'm more resolute and more confident in my capacity to accomplish my goals. A narrative needs determination and pursuit and as I work on my 2018 goals I will figure out my tactics, because I will not be stopped.

Financial Goals

I think a lot about money. 

Now, I don't think of money in terms of "I need to have a Mercedes Benz." I'm a public librarian. That ain't happening.

But I do think about financial scenarios. "What would happen if my car went kaput?" Or I think "if I retire will I still be able to travel?" While it's not something that stops me in my tracks or leaves me numb in anxiousness, I do think like this. I'm a long term thinker. I'm a goal-driven person. I'm a planner and financially planning is a part of my long term goals and my route towards personal happiness.

I'm reaching a point where as I cross from my 30 List to my 50 List certain new goals and challenges will become clear. These new goals include: owning a house, having a tax-deferred retirement plan, having a new-ish car, all while traveling to a foreign country and national park each year. Therefore, I think and plan ahead enough to know that my goals and actions are possible.

So, what am I thinking and planning? What are my financial goals?

Everyone has their financial priorities. Through my 20s my priorities were about personal development and dreams (my travels) as well career or professional development aspirations (getting a Master's, writing and directing festival-quality films). These remain priorities but now that I have a Master's and (thankfully) a stable job, I can think about new long-term stability priorities.

Those new financial or stability priorities:

1. Owning a new house or townhouse/condo
2. Having a retirement plan and savings
3. Getting a new-ish car

Part of financially planning means setting forth those goals and figuring out the tactics to get there. My tactics are as follows;

• Start a rainy day savings account and maintain it by paying $100 in every month. Why is this a tactic: part of owning a house or a car is preparing for issues that may arise. An issue could be a freak accident or repair need. An issue could be that I'm furloughed but need to make a payment. So this is the first tactic towards my goal: set up a rainy day or as I call it a "furlough" savings account. I've completed this by setting up an account with a high-yield savings provider.
• Moving to a new checking account. My current bank was the primary bank in my home community. I no longer live in that community. I also don't trust the bank's standards, service, or rates for large-scale loans. Therefore by the end of December I aim to move my checking with a new bank (or credit union, very tempted to do a credit union) in order to establish a relationship with a bank that I can trust for mortgages or auto loans. 
• Starting a 457 plan. My job allows for a tax-deferred retirement plan that county employees can get. This is a plan that allows pre-tax investments out of each paycheck towards a retirement account managed in a 457 plan. These plans are designed for county employees. My employer doesn't match the investment (like a 401K) and I can withdraw from any time before I'm a 59.5 (which I would like to not do). 

This is what I'm working towards through the course of the coming year. My hope is that after my Japan trip I can buy a condo or townhome first. Hopefully these tactics will pay off in enabling me towards the first two goals, which can set up my last goal -- getting a newish car.