It's simple, in that complicated sort of way...

The Law of Averages

Wikipedia says "the law of averages is a lay term used to express a belief that the outcome of a random event will 'even out' over a large sample."

For example if you wanted to put a bullet in a revolver and play Russian Roulette you have a one in six chance (17%) of shooting yourself in the head. If you had a couple drinks and were playing with an equally psychotic or miserable buddy, the law of averages changes.

If your bro spun the chamber again before putting the gun to his head, he too would have a 17% chance of getting killed.  The "game" could go on for quite some time. If he didn't spin the chamber his percentages of getting killed would increase. However, (again according to Wikipedia) with each pull of the trigger you and you're buddy have a 50/50 chance of getting killed.

The law of averages says, eventually somebody is going to get killed. And you and your buddy are complete jag-offs.

There is a law of averages in my life. And, since I don't play Russian Roulette, whether I'm a complete jag-off or not is harder to tell. (Maybe.)

The law of averages, as it pertains to my life, states:

• No matter how hard I try, things are going to happen when they're goddamn good and ready to happen and not before. All I can do is keep trying. Eventually something will happen.
• As soon as I think all is lost, something will happen to remind me to keep trying.
• I am average. I am not super smart, super athletic or super anything. But I want to be anything but average. Which means, if I keep trying and working, by a law of averages, eventually I can break the glass ceiling of mediocrity.
• Quitting is the only thing that ensures failure.
• I take calculated risks. Calculated risks are still risks. By nature, some of these risks are going to cost me dearly. Most will not.
• Rules help us all get along. The law of averages insists that some rules cannot, or were not meant to be, followed.
• Every day should be an experience. Experience is the best teacher. One day I may finally possess a slice of wisdom.
• Life is not complicated. As long as we focus on the right details. As long as we keep it simple.

Yes... the law of averages. Maybe it's unique for each one of us. Maybe not.

I am reminded of Will Ferrell and Paul Rudd in the movie, Anchorman. In an effort to garner the first ever anchor lady's affection ("It's anchorMAN, not anchorLADY, and that is a scientific fact!") Rudd applies his vehement cologne, Sex Panther, stating to Will, "Sixty percent of the time, it works every time."

Ferrell replies, "That doesn't make sense."

Indeed. But, "it's made from bits of real panther, so you know it's good."

The Point

I'm sitting here, staring at this blinking cursor, and nothing comes to me. Well, that's not exactly true. Plenty of ideas stroll through my mind. I just don't feel like committing to any at the moment.

The truth is, I'm still kind of tired. (I say "still kind of" because if any of you read my last post I believe I said I was tired then too. Maybe I didn't. I'm too tired to look it up.) I find myself asking a question when it comes to this blog quite often anymore. I find myself wondering, "What's the point?"

Now, I know the point. I write this as more of a journal than anything else. A record of events, thoughts, musing and sometimes (at least for me) an epiphany or two. But, I'm tired of finding something to understand in the things that baffle for the moment. Because, to be honest, plenty of things baffle me.

I guess I could tell you a story, but I don't have any good ones lately. I guess I could comment on any of the myriad topics in the news that I find intriguing, but I don't feel like transcribing my research to validate both accuracy and message. After all... what's the point? Who's listening? Who cares out there but my mother? (She's the only one that reads this blog with any regularity.)

But Craig, you say, don't you supposedly write this for yourself? Why do you write for yourself in a public forum?

Well, I reply, I write in a public forum because typing is easier that actually writing with a pen in my journal. And, maybe, just sometimes, these words might find the right ears and make something clearer for someone. Maybe. It's a small difference. But it's a difference nonetheless. Making a difference is nice. Even a small one.

But that is merely the idealist in me.

The truth is, things are changing for me. I am on the verge of bankruptcy. Everything I worked toward in my twenties is most likely going to be taken from me relatively soon. Everything. I've made peace with that, it's just stuff. It's the feelings of failure that are hard to stomach.

I look around and find myself wondering how things got so upside down. I can point to hundred things I did wrong. But, what's the point? It won't change anything. Hopefully, I just won't repeat the same mistakes twice. I took a risk and failed. I have no remorse. Just a longing need to prove to myself that I can do it, if only I did it smarter.

Somebody said they'd pray for me the other day. It's a nice sentiment, but it doesn't mean much to me. It's not that I blame God for anything, it's  just that I'm not sure he exists at all. I believe religion is the greatest trick the devil ever pulled, if there is such a beast. Using God to get people to fight one another on massive scales... brilliant marketing dark lord. Then again, maybe it's just a few shitty people who found this loophole and were able to convince the masses.

I grew up Catholic. I touch a god more so when I surf or when I'm around the kids in my life than I ever have in church. My church is different now. My god is different. I never pray. But man, I do give thanks for my time in this world. It can be such a wondrous place, even when it's shitty.

I don't need prayers, "prayers" sound a lot like "pity", and I know of no greater insult. I'm accountable for who I am and I'm okay with it. If you'd like to help me, just bear with me while I figure this shit out on my own. And be honest with me when I ask you a question. That's all I need.

On a global scale it seem that so many horrible things are happening all the time. That's what sells papers: horrible things. A lot of people are walking around asking, what's the point?

My point is that while hundreds of thousands of people die in wars and genocide or because of AIDS and, even in this day and age, malaria; while the world's ice caps melt and the oceans could rise 25 feet in the next 50 years; while gas prices keep rising, people keep paying and gas companies keep making record profits; while credit gets crunched and people go bankrupt; it still only takes a tiny story of kindness, or hugging a child, or going surfing to restore that tentative faith in humanity.

There's no money in it. But that's why it's priceless.

What's the point? Well, that's simple, in a complicated sort of way. Like John Travolta said in Pulp Fiction, "It's the little differences." Those are the ones that leave the biggest impacts.

And So...

I haven't really been motivated to write here for the past week or so. I'm kinda tired of my own opinion. (I'm not really sure what that means psychologically so I guess it could be good or bad. But I don't think I can be any more fucked in the head than usual, so I'm sure I'll be fine.)

I'm kinda trying to take a break  from trying to figure shit out all the time and just get back to living in the moment for a bit. Just trying to deal instead of analyzing and dealing. Just for a little bit anyway.

It seems that I've been writing about the same shit for the last three years. After awhile I get kinda tired of hearing myself go up and down the same emotional/spiritual roller coaster all the time.

I'm not angry. I'm not displeased. I'm not upset. I'm just tired. I need a little break. Not from writing, mind you, but from my mind... mind you...

I'll still be posting here. But, I think I'm going to focus on some odd news events or other behavior that can seem more substantive than all the existential issues I've been focusing on lately.

Then, when I'm ready, I'll get back to making an effort to figure some stuff out. Then again, maybe if we don't try so hard we can get the answers we need. We'll see. I'll let you know. I'll be keeping things simple instead of complicated.

This month, in Outside magazine, Evan Ratliff wrote a fascinating story on Garrett Lisi. Who is Garrett Lisi? Garrett Lisi is practically a surf bum who is shaking up the world of physics by offering brilliant solutions and defying the institution by existing outside its realms of spit and polish comfort. (He lives in a van and drives around, surfing different breaks in the world with his books and laptop.) He has been compared to Einstein, making his detractors even more furious. He's a true iconoclast.

At one point in his interview the humble guy reflects on the price tag of living the way you want, "Deep down everybody wants to do what they want to do. They just feel they can't... It just takes sacrifices."

I don't know much. I know living my dream is hard. But I know it's the right path. I feel it.

And I feel very fortunate. Even amidst all the sacrifices. Stay tuned to see what this goofy, awe-inspiring world will turn up for me next. I'll be looking forward to sharing it with all you very limited few who read this blog regularly. Until then I hope you're livin' instead of living. I hope you can recognize the difference. And I'm positive I'm not hoping for too much.

I Can't Remember My Nightmares

I've been having bad dreams again. At least that's what I think when I wake up. My sheets are soaked through with sweat. My entire body is slick with moisture. I'm cold and clammy. Anxious yet exhausted.

But I can't remember anything.

Now, before anyone reading this gets concerned or feels the need to comment solutions and remedies, relax. I'm okay. I may not know what I'm dreaming about, but I know what's causing the anxiety. It's happened before.

I used to have two recurring nightmares when this sort of thing in my life happened. One was being strapped into a roller coaster that always flew off the tracks near the end of the ride, killing us all. The other was where my teeth would fall out, painless but bloody. I would look in my hands and there would be all my crimson stained teeth... I could feel my lips floundering over my gums. Or I would choke on them.

Yikes...

In the roller coaster I was powerless- strapped in. I was on this ride that I didn't want to be on, and there was nothing I could do about it. When it came to my teeth I was losing my independence, my ability to feed myself. I was becoming ineffective.

Two totally different dreams with roughly the same message: loss of freedom. These dreams came when I was under immense financial stress a little less than a year ago.

I am under this financial gun yet again. Nightmares have made their return. I do not know if I'm dreaming the same dreams. As I said, I cannot remember anything when I wake up. I only know this: I was alright the first time. And I'll be alright again.

In the end they're just dreams. Dreams... ha. How simple in that complicated sort of way.