Crazy

One of my old college professors would constantly tell his students "engage the complexity of life." Quotes like these sometimes go way over my head for many years, and then one day, I get it.

Where I grew up, the streets were clean and well-maintained. There wasn't poverty or the accompanying problems. Crime was low, schools were great, and it was sited many years in a row as the "best place to raise children." By most standards I had an ideal childhood. But when I was in high school and my mind began to expand to understand a little bit more of the world outside through books and personal experiences, I remember a particular incident. A friend of mine who was way smarter than I was and had a pretty different growing up experience went out with me one night. While most other high school kids were making out with people in driveways (and I probably should have done a little more of that looking back), I was talking about theories of the universe with my friend until 2am. My very smart friend could talk talk talk about his theories, and I was a perfect audience because it was so interesting to me. Is the point of life to be happy? To live without problems? How can a person become whole with only one experience? Can God be seen only through the good or is God somehow in the bad also? Why do good people do bad things? I think my mind was totally blown by his new way of seeing things and I just started bawling. I really had no idea why at the time, and I think all I said to him when he was completely confused was "it's just too much. It just feels like too much." Poor guy had no idea what to do. That was the first time that I really believed I might be crazy.

Anyhow, now looking back at one of my many mini-breakdowns between high school and today, I completely understand the incident. The bottom had dropped out of my life. The rules of the universe that I had lived by for 18 years had just stopped working based on the new things I was hearing and learning. I had a peek inside of Pandora's box and it was scary, crazy, and I didn't know how to live in that world. I quickly shut the lid on the box and tried to keep it that way, but college, living with a Spanish family, and marrying the smartest man I think I know has bit by bit helped me to look inside Pandora's box and know that it's okay if that box is opened. And now I can say something honestly to myself: I'm not crazy. Just kidding. I am crazy, but it's okay, b/c so is everyone. And my new favorite song illustrates this sentiment perfectly:


My new favorite song, by Gnarls Barkley

"Crazy"

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions had an echo
In so much space

And when you're out there
Without care,
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much

Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Possibly [radio version]
probably [album version]

And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that's my only advice

Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,
Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control

Well, I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me

My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done

Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
Probably

Uh, uh

The gift contract

In this season of giving gifts, I would like to propose a radical thought: gifts are not all about the person receiving the gift. They are a contract between the giver and the receiver. The gift can be a signal of closeness to a person if it is personal, can be all wrong if it's personal but not fitting for the recipient, and totally inappropriate if its way too personal. A gift should be met with a look of surprise, excitement, and gratitude to fulfill the gift-giver's anticipation.

I have a few stories. First, my grandmother when she was alive used to give very expensive presents to everyone on her list. She gave my Dad $300 shoes, which he said were nice, but about $150 too expensive for him. He wore them with exercise pants. My mother in law asked us a few years ago what we would like for Christmas. Matt told her a gift card would be lovely. She refused. It is impersonal and tacky! (She gave them anyway) My aunt one year decided to give all the boys in the family blue blazers. One son-in-law told her he already had three and really didn't need another. But at the end of the day, he was at the tailors getting fitted for a blue blazer along with the other boys.

I totally agree with having standards about what you give. I don't buy video games, parental advisory music, or fart books for my Godson even though he would love to get them. As a side note, my kids play video games and think farting is hilarious, but these are things I would like to try not to encourage. No inappropriate music yet but I just told Johnny all about periods. I'm afraid this tangent deserves its own paragraph:

Johnny was hanging on the tampon box at a public restroom and asked what it was for. I blushed, and then collected myself and cheerily explained in simple terms, "Babies need a soft bed of blood in a mommy's tummy to sleep and grow in, and when there's no baby, the blood all comes out of a mom's vagina. That's what a period is!" This mostly only served to shock and appall as I could see by the disgusted look on Johnny's face. "Do babies really sleep in a bed of blood?"

Anyhow, back to the point, I think I wrote a previous post about how really a Godmother's only responsibility is to give cool presents at Christmas and birthdays. By this standard, I am failing miserably with shitty gifts. I am unsure about this year's gift. I got a dartboard and a pop-up book about the human body (which may or may not contain information about farting).

We just really want to get something for our loved ones that we will be happy with, they will be happy with, and that will appropriately mark our relationship with them. Is that so much to ask?

Johnnyism

Johnny: Mom, I was reputation you today at school.
Me: What?
Johnny: Don't you know what reputation means? [scowling, annoyed] It means what someone thinks of you.

Can I keep him this age forever?