A Beautiful Type of Pain

I’ve made it a habit to watch music videos on Friday. It’s kind of a way to unwind and celebrate another week survived. Call it a nice little treat to look forward to as I plaud through the workweek.

I often find myself drawn to the music that defined my adolescence. For me, that would be most of the 90s (I was born in 1981.) Just like my writing, my musical tastes cross any number of genres. Think jumping from Bush to Jewel to Red Hot Chili Peppers to En Vogue to Three Doors Down to Busta Rhymes to… well, you get the idea. I could go on.

One notable thing is that when I slip into that mode, I get wistful about the past. I yearn for that time in my life again. The very definition of bittersweet. I still very much enjoy the music from that time, but I get sad thinking how all of it’s in the past now. How all of the people in these videos are middle-aged or even nearing geriatric status. Some of them are dead…

How wonderful would it be to step back in time just for a day? Our local record store in Barre was Exile on Main Street. What a treat to walk in there and see Sixteen Stone presented as a new release, or perhaps Four by Blues Traveler. To get in a car and catch “Building a Mystery” by Sarah McLachlan presented as a new release.

That’s where the sweet becomes the bitter. I realize that will never happen. What I’m reaching for are rapidly fading memories that, statistically, are sweeter than they actually were when they were formed. Yet I keep reaching out for them, because there’s still a strong sense of peace and contentment that comes out of the experience. It’s why I keep doing it to myself most Fridays.

That led me to thinking about other bittersweet experiences. A prime example is The Crow. A classic by any measure, it follows the story of Eric Draven, a man murdered after being forced to watch his fiancée gang raped. A higher source returns him to walk among the living to avenge himself and his beloved before being able to find eternal peace.

It’s one hell of a downer. Anyone with empathy will watch this movie and feel physically ill by the end of it. I know I do, but it’s also kind of why I like it.

The Crow taps into a part of our psyche that craves justice, justified retribution, that kind of thing. It shows us incredibly dark things, yet encourages us to find the jagged, silver linings that dance in the periphery of the movie’s vision. Bob Ross nailed it; you have to have dark in order to find the light.

Throughout the film, Eric finds triggers in his environment. A picture, a news clipping, his fiancée’s engagement ring. Each one replays happier moments in his life, emphasizing why he is reborn, why the perpetrators of his doom must be repaid in kind. Happiness dipped in the blood of inevitability.

The sting of happier times lost forever, but you must never let go. You don’t want to let go. The sting of loss will always tinge the warmth of the memory. It’s a beautiful type of pain.

The Crow, incidentally, was the inspiration behind Ascension. It is by far the darkest book I’ve ever written, but also one of the books that I am the proudest of. Everyone shies away from what hurts us the most. Lucas has to face that pain in order to grow after years of stagnation following his death. It’s a raw, visceral tale that doesn’t pull punches.

It was very difficult to write that book, emotionally. I’ve personally grappled with depression for years, and writing Ascension put me in dark places more than once. But it was also a panacea for those feelings. In all things, find hope. And that’s what I would try to do as I wrote it. Where was Lucas’ silver linings? How could this pain better him? Where was his peace?

He starts the book thinking he can be indifferent to the suffering of those around him. Hell, he almost takes pride in it. But by the end of the book, he realizes he cares a lot more than he thinks, and it’s through the pain of his past that he finds stability and understanding in the present. No light without dark. No pleasure without pain.

But seriously, how good was “Steal My Sunshine”?

BLOGGISH: Thanksgiving

That time of year is coming around again. The day — sometimes days — where we stress the hell out about where we’re eating, who we’re eating with, what we’re doing for entertainment, what stores we’re going to after the eating and entertainment… Sounds like a headache.

What is Thanksgiving for again?

The history books would have you believe it’s to commemorate the pilgrims chillaxing with their new friends, the indians. That would be total bullshit. The basic gist is that a tribe of Native Americans, that had already encountered Europeans(and spoke some english!) were simply looking for somebody to ally with against their own enemies. The pilgrims were just opportunistic assholes.

So, in essence, you have people coming together to do something out of necessity, not because they want to. It was probably very stressful for all involved. It also ended in disaster for at least half those people.

That sounds so familiar. Hmm…

So anyway, Thanksgiving! Spend time with family! So much fun!

So, much, FUN!

It’s um… It’s not always so much fun, is it?

The whole idea of Thanksgiving has changed over the decades. It’s a day we give thanks for all we have. Hopefully it celebrates a successful fall harvest. We remind ourselves of those who help us and love us and remind them that we care about them and that they are appreciated.

Where we’ve gone wrong is that people now think there’s a fucking obligation to put up with their family, their whole family, even if half of them are a raging bag of dicks.

It’s become commonplace to read stories — survival stories, really — of the terrors of Thanksgiving with the in-laws, or even one’s own family. Some of them end with the acknowledgement that, all horrors aside, it’s well worth it to spend one more Thanksgiving with Grandma. But more and more end with a question: Why do I keep doing this to myself?

That’s a damn good question.

Humans are creatures of habit. Once they are told that this is what is done, they’ll do it forever. It doesn’t matter if it kills them. We’ve always done it this way, after all.

So if the entire clan of four-dozen family members have gone to Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving for the past three generations, you damn-well better do it, too. People develop a sense of duty. You suffer for the better of the clan. The question is though, does it actually matter to the clan, beyond an act of obligation?

It shouldn’t, really. If you get along well with your entire family, that’s fantastic. If you get along well with your spouse’s entire family, then you are either Jesus Christ or fictional. Chances are that there are at least a couple of folks on either side of the family tree that you dread encountering.

The question becomes, if you are more stressed out about the people who irk you than you are excited about seeing the people you love, do you really want to do this? The answer eventually should be no, you don’t. That’s okay, and you should listen to yourself.

The time of “you’ll come to dinner and you’ll like it” needs to come to an end. If those people imploring you to come really do love you, they’ll understand if you only want to stop by for an hour. Hell, don’t even stay for dinner. Just visit Grandma and Grandpa, talk to your weird-but-fun uncle, then get out before your asshole cousin Jeb can ruin your day.

You still want a dinner? Cook it your damn self. Hell, have a bowl of cereal if you want. Nowhere in Abraham Lincoln’s proclamation does it say thou shalt devour turkey, or cranberry sauce, or whatever the hell else is supposed to be on the table. Make it a day that reflects what and who you love, what you are thankful for. Remember, that’s what the day is supposed to be about.

“Seriously, tho…”

Consider that a reminder that you should just be thankful for what and who you have, because seriously, fuck Black Friday, you guys.

I don’t have a problem with going shopping on Black Friday, per se. Most of us get excited for Christmas about ten minutes after Halloween, after all. What I have a problem with is how Black Friday is creeping into Thanksgiving.

First and foremost, the myth of Black Friday having the largest sales of the year needs to die. It’s just not true. Sale prices drop the same amount, or even lower, at other times of the year. Sometimes sales items are made extra cheap to allow for the lower price, meaning a higher chance of them failing early(flat-screen TVs, anyone?)

Salesman: “The cardboard makes it lighter! Think of the savings on gas!”

Still, you can tell people the truth and they’ll just ignore you. Creatures of habit, remember? That’s why the accursed day is now part of the Thanksgiving tradition, and now it’s crawling deep into Thanksgiving itself.

Most major retailers are opening their doors for Black Friday in the early afternoon on Thanksgiving day. Hell, Dollar General opens at SEVEN IN THE MORNING, because what do you mean the robots that we employ have lives? Hilarious!

Look, if you took my earlier advice and have decided to have your own special Thanksgiving, then knock yourself out going shopping. Just make sure you do it after doing the whole holiday shtick. Also remember to be extra kind to the employees that drew the short straw and got dropped into the battle arena.

“I was an adventurer like you until I took a Karen to the knee.”

Gods bless those brave men and women, for they face evils the likes of us could never comprehend.

Happy Thanksgiving.

-John