The Forge

For the last couple days, i've been ill, physically. Doc says it's the good old-fashioned common cold, complete with sore throat, aches, fatigue, and more snot and phlegm than you can shake a... well, a lot of snot and phlegm.

I've always found the common cold to be rather entertaining. Not the symptoms, mind you, but the sickness itself. It's a simple viral infection that has seemingly been around forever, plaguing our ancestors in their straw and mud huts in the same way it plagues us now in our post-industrial, super metropolis world with lasers that can turn geezers nubile and prosthetic limbs good enough to get people into the Olympics. But we can't cure the common cold.

Of course, unless this is the first time you're reading something of mine, you know better than to assume this is actually going to be me talking about the common cold, because i only bother to talk about sickness if it involves hospital trips (and we'll ignore, for the moment, the convenient loophole where my doctor's office happens to be inside a hospital building). I am, of course, going to whip out some attempt at brilliance that ties our friend the rhinovirus into, say, a clever metaphor for sin, another small nuisance that has plagued mankind since the very beginning.

The problem with that, as i'd likely bring to light, is that unlike the common cold, sin has a cure, in the rudest sense of analogy, and that sin is Jesus. People just need to accept that cure. So that's not what this post is about, either.

There's something else funny about the common cold, though. It cripples you. Leaves you in bed for a day or two, or else it makes time spent out of bed a living hell. Which means you become reliant on friends and family. Things like meals and pills can be brought to you on a platter by people who love you.

And then comes the moment where the little triggers in your brain go off and you almost don't want to get better. After all, why would you? Everything you really need to survive is already there, delivered with a smile. You are surrounded by people who genuinely care for you, who don't expect anything in return. It's all so surreal.

I said i've been ill, physically, for a couple days. But my spiritual condition has been deteriorating for much longer. Used to be a dark couple days would be swept easily away by a simple chorus of "stiff upper lip." Wait it out, and things usually get better, or if not better they at least go back to how they were, which wasn't exactly bad. And that's okay, for awhile.

But take the same little struggles too lightly for too long, and eventually you lose sight of the fact that you're struggling at all. And then you stop fighting altogether, because so far as you're concerned there's nothing to fight. You're Jonah, no longer capable of seeing the whale, thus imagining away the possibility of the whale's existence. And when you do that, you forget about the whale's mouth, and you lose all hope of ever seeing the sunlight again.

So it is with me. Once upon a time, i had a point, i had a direction, i had purpose. Excuse the pitiful reference, but i like what Agent Smith said about that little thing called "purpose":

Without purpose, we would not exist. It is purpose that created us. Purpose that connects us. Purpose that pulls us. That guides us. That drives us. It is purpose that defines us. Purpose that binds us...Purpose.

Without purpose, we would not exist. And yet, somewhere long ago, i lost sight of my purpose.

I once told someone that my purpose is to be funny. I have a gift with words, i said, and that was given me by God so that i could bring happiness into people's lives. Donning the title "empyreal wordsmith," i established this forge as a place to bring together my faith and my gift to, hopefully, create good.

For awhile, it worked. People would tell me how they'd been having a bad day "until i read your blog. Dude, that was hilarious." For others, it wasn't so much the humor as the humanity that did it. I formed friendships through writing that i'd never imagined existed, and used the same writing to strengthen the ones i already had.

But as i allowed the battles in my life to grow bigger and bigger around me, i failed to feed the fire of faith that had been driving it all. I spiraled into darkness, and that spiral spewed forth from my pen to my readers, who began to worry. They could tell something had changed; the humor had turned sour long ago. I was becoming depressing to read, at best.

It's only now that i come to realize all this. Sitting here, pushing off the weakening grip of the common cold, i reflect on the fact that the comedy has, for a long while, ceased, in favor of a tragedy that this mortal life will never let me free from.

You want material? I've got a closet full of it. A closet full of broken lives, severed ties, divorce, deceit, and paralyzing ignorance. Each a brick to my own Hoover Dam, holding in an ocean of tears. For a long time i've wondered if i'm meant to write the next great tragedy, the next "Death of a Salesman," as it were. I'm sure i could.

But, you see,

That is not my purpose.

My purpose, as i saw it when i could actually see things, is to make people smile.
Laugh a little. Sometimes at others, sometimes at themselves, and if that didn't suffice, they could always laugh at me.

It's been a long time since i got to laugh for real.
And i'm guessing it's been a long time for you, too.

This week is winding to a close, and Saturday morning i leave for Maine. One full week with no one but friends and family. It's been too long that i've failed to appreciate either, and i'm not exactly sure i remember what that means...appreciate.

But i look forward to a week away from this world. I look forward to recovery.
And if this new light is any indication,

So should you.

Francis T. "Frankie" Hughes
HOLMES, NY - Francis T. "Frankie" Hughes, 19, a resident of Holmes, NY, passed away at his home, Friday, July 4, 2008. Born in Poughkeepsie on February 9, 1989, he was the son of Francis L. and Terilynn (Freeman) Hughes. Frankie attended Pawling Central High School, and graduated last year. He was attending Dutchess Community College and was a Pawling School employee. He was a member of the New York Sports Clubs in Carmel. He leaves behind his parents, two brothers, Braden and Bryan Bucchioni of Mahopac, NY, and many, many friends. Friends may call at the Horn & Thomes, Inc. Funeral Home, 83 East Main Street, Pawling, Wednesday, July 9th from 9:30 to 11:30 AM. A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated at St. John's Church, Pawling at 12 noon. Burial will follow in Pawling Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, the family has requested that donations in memory of Frankie be made directly to the Horn & Thomes, Inc. Funeral Home, 83 East Main Street, Pawling, NY 12564 to help the family with the funeral expenses.

I nonchalantly decided to walk to the mailbox today. No one else was home and it tends not to be gotten later in the day (everyone forgets it's there) and while i never seem to get anything myself, i figured i may as well do us a favor. The usual bills, spam, and magazines were stuffed inside The Pawling Chronicle, which i generally ignore. But as it dropped on the table i recognized Maria and Victoria Accorinti, and the caption said something about a funeral benefit for a friend. I graduated with Maria, and thus wondered what was up.

Soon after, i found myself needing to sit down. Frankie was dead. Damn.

I remember when Frankie first came to our school. I recall third grade, when he was quiet and unassuming, sitting at the end of the table drawing a teddy bear. I used to wish i had his artistic talent; he really struck me as a professional.

As the years went by, we went our separate ways. I don't mean to imply that we were enemies or friends at any point; just acquaintances. He was one of the few kids who had to stay back from the sixth-grade field trip at the end of the year. I played basketball with him because there was nothing else for us to do.

For a few years, i didn't see Frankie. He'd sorta gone downhill a lot and the crowd he mixed with didn't always have the best reputation. Never thought much of it at the time, but then as a kid i guess we don't think much of anything important.

Junior year in highschool we had the first small college fair in the gymnasium. I walked around with Dave, Mike, Griffin, Jen, and the rest of us "smart kids" who didn't care much about the small schools presenting themselves in our gym because we already had these sparkling opportunities laid out ahead of us. It wouldn't be long before we shipped out applications and ended up in places like Grove City, NYU, and Cornell.

But the one thing i remember most about that seemingly insignificant college fair was when i was standing up against a padded wall, waiting to get out of there, and Frankie walked over to me. There was some small talk, which i probably was eager to get out of because i didn't really feel like i had much to say to Frankie. I was set up to be in the top three of the class, and Frankie was one of those kids who was probably closer to the bottom three. I didn't really know, and i didn't really care.

But all of a sudden he turns to me and something in his eyes gets real serious. "I fucked up, man. Seriously, i fucked up a lot. School, life... i can't live like this in the real world. I need a job, and i don't know if that's possible right now." I listened as he explained how he regretted a lot of his life decisions, and how he wanted to change.

Getting back to his artistic roots, Frankie wanted to go to Full Sail college in Florida. I'd already read about the school back when i was interested in game development, but Frankie was truly and deeply excited about the opportunities that Full Sail could offer him. He wanted to get into the industry. Music, that's what he wanted to do. It was his passion, and he was willing to work hard at it.

After our conversation i wished him luck and we never spoke again. I thought about what he said for a bit, and felt genuinely sorry for him. I didn't know what chance he had of making it, but i prayed that he might do so. Frankie was, at heart, a good kid. He had a lot to offer.

I guess he got pretty far in the whole realizing his dream aspect. Last i heard, he recently recorded a few CDs. It's sad that the first place i could've picked them up was at his memorial benefit concert.

Scanning the internet, i ran across a post from someone who was clearly quite close to Frankie. Said he had just gotten a call that Frankie was unconscious. Had evidently overdosed on heroin pills. Some people might not want to know that. I think it's important.

I am so sick of drugs in my culture. Alcohol, cocaine, pot, heroin... they're destroying us from the inside out, and we're loving it all the while. When we want to have a 'good time,' we don't just experiment with drugs; we get new addictions. Addictions that make it impossible to become who we want to be, that stop us on the threshold of our dreams and drag us forever from grasping them.

What's worse, i'm a Christian. And judging from the showings that Dave and I had on SYATP days, i'm probably one of the only ones Frankie ever tried talking to. He was reaching out for help that day, and all i wanted to do was get back to study hall. I had, and still have, everything i want in life, and i don't even realize it. But Frankie knew he didn't have a lot, yet was hungry to break free. He had a dream, and will never reach it. I have dreams, but i'm too lethargic to go after them.

Why do people like me get all this opportunity and hope, if we're not going to share it with people like Frankie? Seriously.

This is shit.
Excuse me.

But it is. My prayers go out to the family and friends. I only hope i find the strength and ambition to live like the Christian i never was to Frankie.

I like what someone said about not falling asleep during the Microsoft presentation. I honestly couldn't stay awake for Sony. I missed a good portion of Nintendo for legitimate reasons but what i did see (and what i've since read) indicates to me that Nintendo did a really great job with what it's already been doing: not appealing to hardcore gamers. Although there were elements of their presentation that had me smiling at the possibilities of in-game application, i'd have to agree that most of the Big N's games these days feel more like tech demoes than actual present-gen caliber blockbusters. I suppose that works for Nintendo's target audience but what can i say? I've never owned a Nintendo console. That's not likely to change at this rate.

Sony bored me. Despite the fact that we all knew (and by we all, i mean gamers and press alike) that Sony has not been delivering on the games side of things and needed to use this year's E3 to unleash a killer volume of titles, Sony delivered almost nothing (though the Little Big Planet presentation was nifty). Make no mistake about it--i am excited greatly by Little Big Planet and honestly feel compelled to get a PS3 on the merit of that game alone. But let's face it, someone in my position is going to get a PS3 anyway because he needs to play Kingdom Hearts 3 and Final Fantasy Versus XIII, both destined to be exclusives. The problem is that Sony wants me to buy their console NOW, so i can play those games...when? Certainly not anytime soon. MAG looks incredible but that was simply a trailer; i have serious reservations about Sony actually pulling this off well. Also, thank God for PS3 greatest hits. But that's not enough to justify picking up a PS3 just yet (for me). It doesn't help my view of Sony to see people who just scooped up a PS3 for games like MGS4 to get sucker-punched with the new 80GB SKU.

Which brings us to Microsoft. Let's clear something up: the FFXIII announcement was a bombshell, simply because no one, anywhere, got wind of it beforehand. It's not inherently shocking that Square would bring FF to the 360--it's much like when they moved from N64 to the PS1. What's shocking is the statement that Square is making, which is that the PS3 isn't doing well enough in the US to justify exclusivity. Say what you will, but when partners like Square start doubting your install base, you have a problem. That said, the only part of the conference that made me really happy was the party system in Gears 2, not that it's a surprise; it's just that not having one before was very annoying. Finally, the avatar system is very much a blatant rip-off of the Mii system, just as Sixaxis was suspiciously like the Wii-mote (though that's neither here nor there). No, Nintendo didn't invent the animated self-portrait, but they did come up with the idea of using it as a global representation of each player, and they did come up with using the avatar in games that would never have passed without said avatars. I say the avatars are childish, but my bigger concern about the new dashboard system is what will happen with all the themes i've had to pay for.

And that, as they say, is that.

From the day we arrive on the planet and, blinking, step into the sun, there's more to be seen than can ever be seen, more to do than can ever be done. Some say "eat or be eaten," some say "live and let live," but all are agreed as they join the stampede, "you should never take more than you give."

And the circle of life is the wheel of fortune, it's the leap of faith, it's the band of hope til we find our place on the path unwinding in the circle, the circle of life.

Some of us fall by the wayside, and some of us soar to the stars. And some of us sail through our trouble; some have to live with the scars. There's far too much to take in here, more to find than can ever be found. But the sun rolling high through the sapphire sky keeps great and small on the endless round in the circle of life.

It's the wheel of fortune, it's the leap of faith, it's the band of hope til we find our place on the path unwinding in the circle.

The circle of life is the wheel of fortune, it's the leap of faith, it's the band of hope til we find our place on the path unwinding in the circle.

The circle of life.

...on the path unwinding, in the circle, the circle of life.

~Sir Elton John

Mirrors are intriguing.
They show you neither who you are nor the person you would like to be. All they show you is the way you will appear to--and thus will be perceived by--those around you.

This allows for a rather pleasing loophole, whereby we as a society have convinced ourselves that we're okay so long as the mirror says so. What others think is the only thing that matters, and not in the positive, "my behavior is being seen" sort of way but rather in the negative, "i need to be a lemming to the Joneses" sort of way.

Meanwhile, we lose sight of our morals, loosen our ethics, and cease to have dreams. Present and future are lost to an indiscernible void and we become robots, never questioning the path we are on or where it leads, thus finding ourselves blissfully ignorant of the true desires within us. Desires

To be used for a greater purpose
To reach further than apathy allows
To be freed from the chains that bind us to a pathetic existence
To fight for something we know is important
To live; to TRULY live
To love and be loved in return.

All of these have, tragically, been lost in our world today. There is a biting irony in the fact that those desires initially sound cliche, until we realize just how foreign they are to our real lives. Our society's notion of "love" is one i find so appalling i can't possibly deal with it in this blog. As for life? Well...

I once fooled myself into thinking i was a leader, a risk-taker, and up to any challenge. Perhaps it was salutatorian status that taught me that, or maybe my membership in some society or another that applauded my ability to lead. But the only thing i've ever led was the charge toward oblivion, aka "success" in this world.

In the meantime, i entirely lost track of direction in my life. I applied and attended college for a year and i'm still not even slightly sure where i want to be headed. In the meantime i've gotten used to not trying or thinking for myself and have been swallowed by apathy, the disease our culture cries out vehemently against from our futons, energetically refusing to deal with it yet exerting no energy in its erasure.

A pastor at my church recently said that, politically, no one was right. The liberals are fighting for change but they don't have any greater purpose for doing so (after all, even 'peace' falls short if it is the ultimate goal). The conservatives have all their long-lasting morality and ethics to back their decisions and yet when it comes time to actually effecting the changes they desire, they tend to fall laughably short.

And our generation isn't helping. As Charles Wiley said to my Journalism class, "We stopped turning out adult models in the 1960s." What we have now is an entire group of people with no patience, no sense of planning or budgeting, and no cause for its rebellion. They cling happily to credit cards and gas-guzzling SUVs, plasma televisions and fancy restaurants, entirely unfazed by the reality of debt and self-destruction.

I live in a generation of teenagers. And the worst part is that all of these teenagers have mirrors.

Mirrors that they look in, touch up their makeup and slick back their hair, and walk away from, thinking it's all going to be okay. Because the mirror told them so.

And the mirror never lies.
Right?

I'm lost.

Just throwing it out there. But i'm absolutely clueless as to my own location.

Spiritually, i'm a Christian with a life full of sin and inadequate desire to be free of it, going to church without connecting and passing through the week no differently than an unbeliever.

Economically, i'm two weeks into my job and just turned in my two-week notice, and i have no idea where i'll find a summer job suitable for me.

Physically, i'm fast approaching the three-hundred pound mark with no signs of stopping, despite my repeated claims that weight loss is imminent.

Socially, i feel the reins i once had on my relationships slowly slipping from my grip, yet do nothing to regain them. It's as if i don't even care if i lose everyone.

Mentally, i can feel a once-vibrant imagination crumbling from misuse and inadequate application, all the while neglecting potential sources of inspiration.

There you have it. Complete lack of direction. I'm standing in a desert, trapped in a whirlwind, unable to see what's in front and only dimly recalling what's behind, thus paralyzed in my unhappy state.

Countdown initiated.

Houston, we have a problem.

For the last few months i've had a quotation listed as one of my favorites on the popular networking site affectionately named after the books they used to give incoming Freshman to identify the faces of their peers. Said quotation was attributed to Joss Whedon, a rather clever writer in film and television. It was simple and to the point (rather unlike this introduction): "Remember to always be yourself. Unless you suck."

I have since felt compelled to remove Whedon's witticism from my list. Because it is simply terrible advice.

Consider the implications of such a statement. Beneath the cynical layer designed to incite in readers (as it did in myself) a bit of laughter, there remains the message that 1. there is a condition under which one ought not be oneself and 2. that said condition is one in which one's nature is severely lacking in (most likely) several key areas of social compatibility. The advice, then, is that people who find themselves unable to perform up to what they consider the gold standard ought to sheath themselves in falsity, emulating other people on the outside while allowing the inner, imperfect being to deteriorate further. The ultimate result of such advice is that the person becomes hollow, a beautiful mansion facade with an interior decimated by termites.

I recently expressed a certain displeasure with myself and with the state of affairs about me. The responses i received to this expression were constructive in nature, though some were critical and others were simply affirmative. I value both kinds greatly.

Michael opted to focus on the panic i was experiencing as a result of departing seniors whom i may never interact with again. He said

Someone who isn't earnest won't be bothered by the transient nature of college acquaintances. You're the inverse of that. Consider the value of a few people who are sincerely interested in you and your well-being, and will continue to be as others come and go.

To that end, i dare to say i've been successful. An incidental effect of this posting was that Jenny and Mark came out of the woodwork, and as i fell asleep one night over the interim between that post and this i found myself quoting Bogart: "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

It has become increasingly clear that my fear of being entirely unlikable was misplaced. After Jenny and Mark have come closer relationships with people i knew already--like Kevin, Jordan, Josh--as well as new friends, such as Tom, Alicia, Luke, and Rachel.

Additionally i've found myself growing a bit more comfortable talking with what had previously been a sort of "upper echelon" in my eyes. Those invisible walls i started to bump into during Children's Theatre were in fact invisible doors waiting for me to open them and walk in. Jesse, Megan, George, Abigail--- people who i would see and talk to occasionally, yet not feel comfortable addressing directly--- they have become people i make an effort to say hello to as i walk past.

There's still a degree of awkwardness, but i've come to recognize it as an illusion that i have allowed my mind to indulge for so long that despite my best efforts i continue to stumble through haze. That's not the end of it--i shall defeat my inner restraints--but simply a comment on my present situation. Progress has definitely been made, as i no longer view the situation as hopeless, but there is always more progress to work towards.

Part of progress is change, and i've been trying quite hard to accomplish that. "Anonymous" told me i could at times come off as too self-important, the sort of advice you shrug off from a parent in brash adolescent rebellion but take much more seriously when it comes to you in such a sincere and leveling voice as Anonymous delivered it with. Admittedly i still toss questions around inside my head as to the identity of this figure, but then i realize it's not important to know who was helpful; they were still helpful.

It's so strange to look at myself and know the only thing hindering me from where i want to be is...well...myself. I am still too loud, say things that are neither useful nor entertaining, and find ways to annoy people without even trying. I want so desperately not to do those things, but in order to ever abolish such behavior i need to first address its existence and then take small steps towards a better me.

But i am smiling. I'm optimistic. I can lay down on my bed in the afternoon, breeze blowing as i listen to Josh Groban, and reflect on how fortunate i am to have Grove City, to have America, to have had a Christian upbringing, and to know that there's nowhere i'd rather be than wherever God is bringing me.

Being yourself is really the best way to go. But more than that, we should strive to make ourselves the best that we are capable of being. I know that sounds really sappy and cliche, but it's a truth that i've only lately been able to visualize. If you want something, pray about it, and then go for it with all the gusto you can muster.

As Tim McGraw put it:

Are you hungry?
Are you thirsty?
Is it a fire that burns you up inside?
How bad do you want it?
How bad do you need it?
Are you eating, sleeping, dreaming
With that one thing on your mind?
How bad do you want it?
How bad do you need it?
Cuz if you want it all
You gotta lay it all out on the line.