Proof of Happy Endings (Part 2)

This blog was kind of a surprise for me to write, because when I finished "Proof of Happy Endings" I thought it was a stand-alone blog. I said what I wanted to say for it, but I realized that I left a lot of things unsaid. The thought that I had more to write about came to me while I was moving.

But first, let me tell you about the trip that got me to Texas. My dad called it Murphy's Trip, because it seemed like everything that could have gone wrong did.

MURPHY'S TRIP!!!!!

Day 1 my car broke down on I-5 and we (me and my dad) needed my brother to take us to our hotel down there.

(Me and Dad waiting for Alex)

Day 2 involved a 2 hour ordeal from the rental company to get a car and then back on the road.

(Me and Dad waiting for our rental car)

Day 3 was waking up at 0700 and driving for 14 hours til we got to the hotel.

(Me and Dad waiting for the ****ing drive to end....)

Day 4 was when we finally made it to Houston, and, after that, it was a frantic rush to go from graduate school to apartment to store to store to store (just in case I forgot anything).

Now I'm moved in with my buddy, loving my experience in Houston thus far, and looking forward to work/graduate classes. This city is wonderful, but, then again, so is my home, and the many places I visited on the trip.

As hellish as it was to go over half a continent in 3 days, it was a pretty awesome experience. California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas all definitely had their own unique personalities. To say that they were all beautiful in their own unique way sounds trite, but it's true. To say any more about them in the hopes of doing justice to said beauty would make me exceed my allotted word space. Perhaps another time.

Right now, I'd like to go back to that realization.

It came to me on the night of Day 2. In retrospect, I'm not super surprised that my "Part 2" realization came to me that night, as that was the day I was most nostalgic. And homesick. That was the day I had to say goodbye to California.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family and friends more than I love my state, but at least when I'm in my state I know how easy it is to go and see them at any given time. Leaving California meant leaving that convenience.

I didn't sleep much that night. I had a lot to think about.

And here is what I thought.

As I lay there, I felt very thankful. Thankful for California. Thankful for my time at home. Thankful for my friends. Thankful for my family.

"Proof of Happy Endings" was based around the rhetorical question "Can’t I be both excited and sad that I have to move?" I thought the answer to that question was an obvious "yes", but, as it turns out, their is more behind it.

Yes, it is possible to be both excited and sad about something, that much is obvious, but less obvious part is how it's possible. I think that's why I met with so much resistance when I tried to talk about feeling both at once, because when you try to quantify the emotion, it doesn't make much sense. It seems like these emotions are two parts of an equation that, at best, negate each other. A positive emotion and a negative emotion leaves you in one of three places: positive, negative, or zero. 

Yet emotions are not numbers, so you can be both happy and sad, a state of being perfectly encapsulated in the phrase "happy ending".

As it is with most things in life, it's easier for me to peruse my thoughts if I relate them to superheroes. I'm one of the few people I know who likes Superman more than Batman. This all started when I realized that Batman was a crybaby in comparison to Superman. Think about their back-stories. Batman lost his parents when he was a kid when they were killed right in front of him. Superman's home-world exploded and he is the last (not counting Supergirl and Powergirl, his cousins) of his kind.

One of these people is actually well adjusted and moved past a tragedy, the other refuses to move past it and makes it the basis for everything that he does. "Cut Batman some slack", you might say. "Superman had the Kents" and "At least he was too young to remember." Fine, but Batman had Alfred and billions of dollars, and Superman's had to realize that he was orphaned at an early age because of mass extinction, making him, at least, at risk for a complete mental breakdown. 

Superman does what Batman will not (at least before the events of my favorite comic, Kingdom Come): He accepts his past. Batman (literally) wears his loss around as a cape. Ironically, so does Superman, and he's not nearly as melodramatic about it.

Batman is sad that his parents died, but Superman is both sad about his loss yet happy with his adopted home-world. How does he do that?

Here's my guess, and it's my guess because it's what I've come to accept as the answer to my own question. When something ends, you always have something good to take with you. It's that something that, if you let it, can transform and define you. 

For Superman, it's his Kryptonian legacy. 

For me, it's my memories and experiences, all of those people and places. both little and big, that have shaped, changed, and molded me. All of these things have left an impact in my life that I carry with me wherever I go. In some ways, I leave them behind when I go somewhere, but in a very real way they are always with me. They have become a part of me, a part that will continue even if my mind and body fade and deteriorate because they have touched me at my very core.

I have been very loved, and all that is good within me is a result of that love. I'm very honored to get to carry it with me.

To be able to be at home in my own skin.

Proof of Happy Endings

I like to draw from events in my life when I write a blog, but rarely do I include anything that is up-to-date. I do this consciously because I prefer keeping my private life private. But I've been feeling contemplative lately, so I’ll break my rule for once.

A week ago, I was honored to be a groomsman at my best friend’s wedding. Right before the ceremony, I asked him what he was thinking about it. Actually, to be specific, I asked my poet of a friend if the Muse was speaking to him on his special day. He replied with “Poets do not find inspiration in the moment, but after.”

During the bachelor party, I had a great time hanging out with the guys.

During the rehearsal, I enjoyed talking to new people as well as familiar faces. Dinner was also exceptionally delicious.

During the wedding, I was almost brought to tears with how beautiful the ceremony was and brought to sweat by dancing the night away.

After all this, I started to miss my friend.

I don’t like to admit this for many reasons, so I’ll get them out of the way first. I feel that I look selfish when I say that. Immature as well. Perhaps even needy. And maybe all of that is true, but I can’t help it. 

My brother, who, too often, I disagree with, tells me to try and not look at this like a loss. Turns out, I disagree with him. Things change, and every change is a kind of ending. Though I believe that there can be happy endings (my friend’s marriage is a clear example of one), I can still lament over what ends.

Can't I be upset that I have to see my friend less while thrilled for him that he’s moving up in life?

This comes to mind because I've noticed that this is a period of life where a lot of things are ending for me.

I've worked at the same place, off and on, for about a 4 years, and I've put in my two-week notice. Things have changed a lot for me there, and I've been happy with the opportunities I've had. I've been happy to make paper bag puppets (and watch my puppet making skills improve). I've been happy to watch the kids I work with growing up and, in some cases, learning to talk and walk. I've been happy to grow as an employee and slowly get trusted with more and more responsibilities and opportunities to better myself. I've been happy getting to know my amazing co-workers and superiors. But it’s time for this to change.

(Improvement!)

With the exception of the years I spent in college, I've lived in the same city (San Jose) for most of my life. I grew up here, and it’s my home. I learned to walk, read, write, drive, and do calculus all in my city. My city has beautiful hills and mountains surrounding it that turn green in the spring with California poppies all over. Sometimes, when I sit on top of one of these hills to think, I remember that my old school’s motto was that we were a ”light on the hill” and I marvel that, in my city, there are so many hill with which we can put lights on. As I've spent years hunting through my city for secret passages to Narnia (and found passages to its opposite accidentally), I've learned the treasured secrets of my city. But it’s time for this to change.

I cannot even begin to think about how my relationships with friends and family are about to change, mostly because I know any further embellishment will make my mom really sad to read. Got to say, I’m really happy with how she reads all of my blogs. HI MOM! Poor lady is a softy, and this will probably make her really sad to read. I’ll be sure to caution her against reading this, but I know she will anyways.

To be fair, it makes me sad too, but it also makes me happy to remember. It’s why I try not to focus too much on things ending, but, sometimes, I feel like I have to. I feel like, in doing so, I’m paying homage to something that I love, even if I’m getting something good in giving something up.

Speaking of getting things, I’m getting sick of all the same questions about my upcoming move.

Are you excited? Yes.

Are you worried? Yes.

Are you going to miss home? Yes.

Turns out humans are complicated and can feel more than one thing at a time. Even if it’s true that you’ll feel one emotion more strongly than the others, I don’t think that invalidates any of the feelings. I also don’t think that it means that the thing you feel most strongly is the most important feeling to you.

Can’t I be both excited and sad that I have to move?

San Jose (Saint Joseph) I've learned is the patron saint of dying well. Because Joseph is not mentioned after the stories of Christ’s youth, some assume that it is because he died before Christ started his ministry. He’s the patron saint of dying well because, if this is the case, Joseph would have died with Christ and Mary by his side. To put it another way, he would have died in the arms of his Savior and the mother of God. Supposedly, that’s the best way to go.

And go we must.

In life, I cannot escape endings, but I can at least work toward happy endings. Living in the city of Saint Joseph has taught me that. We might not be the most cultured city and we have our own share of problems, but I cannot imagine how anyone can be surrounded with such beauty, as can easily be seen in our green hills and wonderful people, and be anything but happy.            

I can be sad at having to move, but still be happy for having lived here. A good life learns to live with that tension.

Most people seem to forget that I am a person who views change as a necessary evil. I believe things can get better, but to move forward means to leave something behind. I believe things are fallen and need to change, but even fallen things are not devoid of goodness.

I want nothing more than to just settle down in a place, left to my own devices, and to just exist and be happy. The problem is that this is selfish living. Left to my own devices, I would destroy myself, not find happiness. I must change, and so, like many before me, I've learned to rejoice in my suffering.

Yet I've also learned that it is not wrong to suffer in my sufferings. It is possible to be both happy and sad at the same time.

For me, that means living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, and aiming to be reasonably happy in this life. I look for all things to be made right and to try and help the process along as I can. I look forward to the day that endings will end.

To quote a friend, as well as pay homage to Franny and Zooey:

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.