We Have to Go Back.

The world isn’t so big anymore.

It seems like the older I get, the more our world keeps growing smaller and smaller. Everybody is connected instantaneously. We can transmit messages and data with a single flick of the finger. New news becomes old news before you even have the chance to read it. We can shop online and receive packages within a day. We can spread memes and pick arguments and incite violence with just a few keystrokes. Careers can be made, and careers can be ended, all with the click of a mouse. Privacy is antiquated. Everything is fair game in this brave new world. Survival is as easy as resting in bed all day and not doing anything. Nothing is sacred.

And yet, I don’t feel any bigger than I did before. If anything, I feel smaller too.

I couldn’t begin to tell you just how often I repeat this phrase in my head:

“We have to go back.”

Keen television viewers might remember from which program that line originates – Lost.

(If you’re planning on watching Lost, stop reading now. I’m about to discuss a major plot point of the program. Come back when you’ve watched it.)

The classic third season finale of the show (Through the Looking Glass, 2007) gave viewers a startling twist-ending; Jack, Kate, and a few other castaways astonishingly escaped the island. And yet, reintegrating into society has ruined Jack. He can’t function without alcohol and oxycodone. His mental state is rapidly deteriorating. Jack has grown suicidal; he rides airplanes hoping they’ll crash and even tries to jump off a bridge. He finally manages to meet with Kate again, and expresses what he finally accepts as the only solution.

“We have to go back.”

Truth be told, this article isn’t really about Lost. And yet, my assessment of Lost has grown in favor over time. I now see the show as an allegory for what ails us as human beings. Collectively, we’re awfully sick. Life has become far too easy. We don’t face any challenges in our daily lives. Food is plentiful and there’s always a place for us to rest our head. Our meals come prepackaged in nice, neat boxes. There are no tigers for us to outrun, nor stampeding buffalo to dodge. We can float through life carelessly and still manage to cross the finish line. Work is defined by how many words we can type, or how many video games we can stream, or how we can best monetize our online videos. There are no crops to plant, nor trees to chop. Our cars are even starting to drive themselves. Objectivity has been rendered moot. The concepts of family and gender and even individuality are starting to weaken. The walls of independence are crumbling all around us. We can completely and totally disconnect from the world, and everything will be alright.

My friends, this isn’t healthy for us. We’re dying.

The enigmatic island in Lost is a symbol of where we came from as a species. We were once helpless beings trapped in a vast wilderness, with mysteries and dangers lurking around every corner. If you wanted to feed yourself and your family, you had to plant a field or hunt game. There were other factions of human beings, just like yourself, that also had to claw their way through life. You might even have to go to war with them for limited resources from time to time! Only the wisest and most self-sufficient survivors would rise to the top of the food chain. Your level of effort directly correlated to your level of accomplishment. Existence was ripe with adventure and excitement because every day was a gamble.

Our world was once oh so very big… and we were very, very small.

When Jack says, “We have to go back,” what he’s implying is that the modern world holds nothing for him anymore. The life he lived on the island was a sincere and authentic life; he felt like he had purpose once again. The island was a microcosm where a person could achieve great triumph, but only if they worked hard enough for it. It was undoubtedly a tough life, but also as real as it could possibly get. The contemporary world was driving Jack insane because it was too easy. He’d had a taste of what honest living was like… and he would do anything to get it back.

When I consider the weight of what “We have to go back" means, I look at it as a metaphor. I’m not saying we must return to a rudimentary society that lives in the forest and scavenges for rats and berries. What I am saying is that we need to make the world feel ‘big’ again. There should be routine challenges that we face on the regular. Adversity is good for the soul; it makes us stronger. It shouldn’t be so easy to share knowledge or spread news. We should have to invest some degree of effort to survive. At least some of our food ought to come from the garden, from fishing, or from hunting game. Ultimately, curing what ails us doesn’t come from a multi-national pharmaceutical conglomerate in the shape of a tiny little pill; it comes from within.

We have to go back… but we won’t.

In terms of societal grandeur, I can safely say that we’ve peaked. I view an extremely specific moment in time as the clarion call for our civilization’s downturn – the introduction of the first widely celebrated smart phone device. Apple unveiled the iPhone on June 29, 2007 to much cultural acclaim and anticipation. It’s an odd coincidence that the iPhone’s unveiling happened just thirty-six days after Through the Looking Glass first aired. The iPhone epitomizes all that we’ve lost in the progression towards a ‘connected’ society. This moment is the tip-top of the proverbial mountain, and we’ve been falling downhill ever since.

More than likely, you’re reading this article on a smart phone. Most internet usage now flows through our little black screens that fit tidily in our pockets. Traditional desktop computers are declining in popularity. Using the internet or employing a computer to complete a task is no longer a purposeful decision that requires focus. The smart phone simply ‘solves’ all our problems; it’s our companion and cohort. We’ve aggregated the entire breadth of human existence into a little metal box that weighs less than a pound. This perpetual cascading downhill isn’t something that’s going to stop. I don’t have enough faith in humanity to believe that we can come back from this plunge. Most people are weak and timid. At this point, It’s only a matter of time.

I can only question as to when we’ll hit bottom and who’ll be left to witness the end.

Celebrating The Jack Of All Trades.

What do all of the following have in common?

MacGyver, of the classic eponymous TV show.

A crow, one of nature's most ingenious creatures.

Roger Smith from 'American Dad!'.

The red mage from 'Final Fantasy'.

Mike Rowe, star of 'Dirty Jobs'.

Painter, inventor, writer, scientist and poet Leonardo da Vinci.

Each and every one of these is a highly adaptable Jack of all trades. They are able to do a lot of things reasonably well, more so than the common person or being. And yet, none are considered experts in any particular field. Their success stems from an ability to do many tasks and perform multiple skills proficiently, thereby granting them great value for their flexible utility. Concurrently, they also possess the ability to pick up new talents and hold an interest in a diverse range of subjects. In short, a jack of all trades is the personification of a Swiss Army knife.

I want to take the opportunity with today's article to celebrate the jack of all trades. Often chided as negligible or untalented in our culture, the truth couldn't be more different. Jacks of all trades are highly important within our society. They can complete a multitude of jobs without difficulty. Their malleability allows for transitions between different areas of work that most people simply couldn't pull off. Most importantly, when life has you backed in a corner and you're facing utter defeat or even death, the jack of all trades is the man or woman you want to have your back. They're the best defense against the worst-case scenario. Their resourcefulness is their key to victory.

As I've grown older, I have come to accept the fact that I'm a jack of all trades, however unlikely I initially thought I would be. When I was a younger man, I assumed I was destined to just be an artist. A jack of all trades? Humph! That was just a loser whom couldn't do anything right. Then I discovered I could cook. Then I was a medic. After that, a banker. Later on, I realized I could write reasonably well. Heap on a load of interests so diverse that I couldn't even begin to list them all here. Yeah... a jack of all trades for sure. As time went on, I started to cherish my versatility and ultimately embrace it. Of course, I'm not the best at any one particular thing, but I'm pretty darn good at a lot of things. I'm not going to write the greatest novel ever written. I'm not going to discover the cure to cancer. I won't ever win an Olympic medal. Nor am I going to draw the most realistic portrait ever put to paper.

But you know what? When the going gets tough, I'll survive. I'll make sure those around me make it through the night. And then... I'll cook breakfast.

So remember, folks. Support your local jack of all trades. Give them your business. Thank them for their uncanny knack for doing just about anything. And, if you discover you're a jack of all trades, don't fight it. You're more significant than you realize.

This guy gets me.

Punctuality: The Importance Of Being On Time And Meeting Deadlines.

Over the course of the past few weeks, I've encountered some calamity while attempting to sell items via Craigslist. Namely, my (potential) customers have been extremely late or simply failed to show up.

I attempted to sell a printer a few weeks ago to someone whom contacted me. They asked if I could meet them in a public location that's approximately twenty minutes from my house. I arrived ten minutes early and waited over an hour, only for the buyer to never show up. The buyer had the nerve to email me the next day and ask if I could meet them again. When I stated that they would need to come to me because they stood me up, they complained and then never wrote back.

A few days after that, an interested party asked to purchase a marble chess set I had for sale on Craigslist. They sent me an endless stream of emails asking me all manner of questions, some of which were repeated. When it came time to meet me (again, another twenty minute ride to accommodate their distance), they stood me up. They also contacted me after the fact to make an excuse and asked if they could meet me another day. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, I said I could. They never wrote me again.

Back to the printer! Another buyer wrote and asked if they could purchase it. We agreed upon a public place and time to meet. Yet, instead of showing up when scheduled, the buyer called me three separate times saying they were "a few minutes away". They finally arrived an hour and a half late, without so much as an apology! What baffled me is how they just assumed I'd wait that long. Honestly, I probably should have left out of pure disgust.

A second buyer contacted me about the same chess set last week. They asked if they could meet me at a gas station on Sunday (yesterday) at 11:30 AM. What time did they actually show up? 12:20 PM. That's right... fifty minutes late. How serendipitous of them to arrive literally as I was about to pull away. My blood was boiling. I looked at this woman's face with a deeply sour expression and was about to give her a piece of my mind, but she had a child with her. I bit my tongue because I didn't want to make a fuss in front of the kid. She never apologized or explained why she was late.

In every one of these instances, the customer had my contact info. They could have called or emailed me at any point to let me know of their tardiness, much less their not coming.

So what am I getting at?

Americans have developed a genuine problem with being on time. As a whole, we've become lazy, prone to lateness, inconsiderate of others, and simply don't follow through with tasks. If you say you're going to do something, or be somewhere at a certain time, then you need to do it. No excuses. At the very least, if you do encounter a delay, let others involved know that you're going to be late. It's just a matter of common decency.

Flaky, undependable, rude, discourteous -- this is no way to go through life. On some level, I'm ashamed to share a country with these plebeians. And yet, this will continue to happen, over and over. Our self-serving culture promotes being wayward and capricious. Where did we go wrong?

The scary part? It's only getting worse.

People Are Like Sandboxes.

Me: "People are a lot like sandboxes."

Crystal: "They're full of cat shit?"

While I found Crystal's response to be incredibly hilarious, it wasn't what I was driving at.

People are like sandboxes because they're always changing. Like the sand, different aspects within us are altered and modified. The sand transforms over time. Some parts are built up while other areas erode into valleys. The contents of a sandbox are never the same. They are eternally in motion and evolving.

So too are people -- continually shifting and advancing.

I often think about the man I used to be over a decade ago. I was brash, immature and selfish. My motivations weren't always the most sincere, nor were they befitting of a decent life partner. Yet, as the winds of time passed over my body, the sands of my life were constantly in a state of revision.

Who I am today is not who I was yesterday.

This same principle applies to everyone. You, the reader, are in a state of flux. You look a great deal like yourself from yesterday and mostly like yourself from a year ago. But from five or ten years ago? Not at all. The human condition is bound by never-ending metamorphosis.

Though, perhaps Crystal was absolutely right in a way. Some of us are just full of shit.

What Is Love?

Love is admitting you're afraid. There's always danger around the next corner. Ghosts from your past may return to hurt you. Insecurities can destroy your confidence. Broken promises can evaporate faith. Yet, love allows a safe space for us to admit what we're afraid of. Manifesting our deepest fears with words is how we conquer them. Bringing them from the darkness into the light gives us hope.

Love is cutting yourself some slack. We all have problems. Some of us are too fat or too skinny; balding or covered in freckles. Some of us have bad acne or a lisp. Some of us have a physical handicap or a major scar. Some of us wear our defects on the inside, never to be seen. Without explanation, love makes all of those frailties and shortcomings okay. In essence, love is the great equalizer.

Love is forgiving mistakes. Admitting that others will mess up is tough, but love allows it to be alright. Money will be lost. Cars will be wrecked. Jobs will be lost. If there's any certainty in life, it is that none of us will have a perfect track record by the end of the race. We've all screwed up, in one way or another. While you have to be willing to forgive others, more importantly... you have to be willing to forgive yourself.

Love is being vulnerable. Opening yourself up to another person is scary as hell. They'll know all of your secrets and inadequacies. This person could damage you in the worst way possible, with no chance of ever fixing it. That's the funny thing about loving someone. It's like being in a relationship with your worst enemy. Every day, you wake up to the possibility of having your heart broken.

Love is courage. Considering how vulnerable love makes us, choosing to care for someone requires fearlessness. As time goes by, an unspoken promise is fulfilled. By choosing to open this door, you're letting everything wonderful and disastrous in this universe simultaneously into your heart. Choosing love is a profound statement of bravery -- I'd rather risk eternal sorrow than go through life without you.

The Breeders Must Be Stopped!

As of late, I've come to the fairly bleak realization that a large swathe of society is only capable of doing one rudimentary thing in life... and that's be a breeder. No matter how much education you offer them, or job opportunities, or chances to expand their horizons, they will always settle for the lowest common denominator of human existence.

They just make more humans. Over... and over... and over... and over.

Please, I'm begging you. Make it stop.

Here's a simple, step-by-step explanation of the breeder's guide to life.

1. Find a sexual partner.
2. Have intercourse.
3. Fail to use any form of birth control.
4. Have a baby.
5. Return to step #1

I want to shake these people and ask them...

Don't you want more out of life than to be a parent? Any loser with a functioning set of genitalia can do that. Don't you expect more from your own self, for that matter? You're a capable human being with the ability to think and transcend your starting point in life.

And yet... these folks just keep on breeding, spawning one little unnecessary hellion after another.

Ladies, I want to address you specifically for just a moment. Why? Because you're the gatekeepers to this whole dilemma. Of course, I realize that many of you have been forced to bear children because you've been raped -- this message is not for you. For the rest -- you are more than just a baby machine. Being a mother is not a life requirement. You can lead a full, healthy existence without any children whatsoever. At the very least, establish yourself in a secure career with a stable home before (not after) you start having babies. Being a mother is not a job -- it's a personal choice. I want to pull my hair out when women say that being a stay-at-home mother is a job. BZZZZZZZZZZZZ, WRONG! Instead of pushing yourself to achieve greater things, many of you settle for a ho-hum existence -- strapped to a gaggle of brats and unable to do anything for yourself. Don't fall into this trap! Refrain from dropping your panties for any schmuck that'll show you attention. Guess what -- if the only guys you can seem to attract are losers, thugs, delinquents, flunkies and deadbeats, then you're probably a piece of crap yourself. SHAPE UP! We don't need more humans on this planet -- especially those that are destined to be a breeder just like yourself.

Guys, listen to me... stop knocking women up, would you? I'm really tired of your low-quality kids making it tough on decent, responsible parents just trying to raise their own children in a better world. You and I both know that you're probably not fit to raise a child -- and that's even if you would bother to hang around. More often than not, you're absent from your child's life. So why bother? You're just adding to the problem of overpopulation, which tends to have this gnarly compounding effect. You spawn two new breeder kids, which spawn four breeder kids, which spawn eight breeder kids, which leads to sixteen breeder kids. See where I'm going with this? Buy yourself an entire case of condoms and use 'em, buddy. We don't need more of you, that's for damn sure.

This must be what breeder hell looks like.

Being a breeder isn't set in stone. It's no one's destiny to only ever make more humans. Being a breeder is a choice, which makes it all the more terrible. For the sake of my sanity and Earth itself, don't be a breeder!