The first thing I want to say is this: George Clooney's new movie, Up in the Air, is sad, thought-provoking, and probably inspired me to be in the mood to write everything that follows. Not the content, exactly, but the theme, if you catch what I'm saying. I highly suggest watching the film. It isn't one you have to see in a theatre. Hell, I found it online and the entire time there was a caption at the bottom that said "For awards determination purposes only." I've never been one to really care about things like that. I just wanted to watch a good movie.
I was not disappointed.
Praise aside, let's get into it.
In the Air Force, while being located in the Dormitory (and yes, we call them that instead of Barracks - it adds to the image), you are occasionally called upon to participate in a duty called Bay Orderly. This duty requires you to step aside from your normal Air Force duties, throw on a green vest, and spend the week walking the dorms and making certain they are clean.
I was not selected for this duty. However, I was voluntold to take over for someone who had been selected and was not informed before she made Leave (vacation) plans for the week she was supposed to be participating. This being the New Year's weekend, I was a little bummed out that I would have to spend part of my weekend accepting this duty. I was relieved to find out that I only had to do it Thursday during the day and one day on the weekend for about 2 hours. Then, the following week. Turns out I got to Sunday as my day and that, in conjunction with having Friday off because of New Year's day, gave me a real weekend to play with.
I spent it driving down to Sumter, South Carolina, to visit my friend Jeremy and his beautiful wife Rebecca at their home. I packed up around noon (having been relieved early from Bay O duty) and drove the 6 hours down to SC.
The weekend was wonderful. We hung out. We went to a bar with one of Nott's coworkers - an excellent drinker and all-around good time of a dude. We drifted about and did much of nothing the next day. Watched some football, ate out, had meaningless and meaningful conversations, watched a jacked up movie and an amusing one.
I was due back to be here for duty at 0900 on Sunday morning for more Bay Orderly duty. I spent Saturday night hanging out at a Mexican restaurant singing Karaoke (David Allan Coe was a hit and I'm a great country singer, tyvm). I did not end up even leaving until almost midnight. I didn't arrive here until after 0500 and I got up 3 hours later for duty tired as hell.
Why did I do this?
Why is it that when the weekend comes up for me I tend to look outward? Why is it that my typical option is to drive anywhere from 3 to 6 hours to go up to New Jersey, down to Sumter, or over to Roanoke? Why is it that I will never have more than a few weeks of leave piled up at any given time and will always spend it quickly going to Houston to visit my mom and family there or to Nashville visiting my oldest friends and family there?
Why?
Because being alone effing sucks. Now, don't worry. I'm not about to go off on a long diatribe about how I'm sad and lonely and pity me and blah blah bullshit. I recognize the fact that enough other people are far lonelier than me. The human condition is to be alone. We spend our lives seeking out even the smallest glimmer of connection so that we can share how we feel, what we think, who we are.
I am merely reiterating. Spending your life by yourself is a terrible waste of the opportunity you are given when being forced out of the womb.
Human beings start as two meaningless, messy globs of goop merged together. We grow and are so NOT alone during pregnancy as to come out screaming about the removal. We, hopefully most of us, spend childhood surrounded by family and friends. We move out into the world but we never fully cut ties with the lives behind us.
Being alone sucks.
Not having friends you know you can count on is worse than being destitute. Poor means less if you have people to share some Ramen with. Play rock band with to pass the time and not think about the sucktastic feeling of being broke.
Pain is lessened by others. Stab yourself in the leg one time and start bleeding all over the floor. Do that by yourself and you're probably dead. Do that in a house with a woman who loves you, friends whom you've literally just fought so hard with they threw you out of their house and guess what happens? You don't die. You go to the hospital drifting towards unconsciousness thinking you might be pulling into a Wal-Mart and just a bit delirious. But you survive.
Anguish and heartbreak is made easier with a shoulder to cry on. A person to hug. Somebody to love.
What I'm saying isn't new. I'm not even entirely sure why I'm saying it other than to simply be writing something I truly and honestly feel.
Do not spend your life wasted away alone. If even for a moment you have the time to feel pity for yourself walk outside. Make a connection with a coworker you barely know. Drive 6 hours to visit a friend. Go online and pay $40 to talk to strangers on a dating site. Just don't be alone.
Your life is meaningless if you die without having experienced the concept of togetherness. For a person that doesn't believe in a Heaven or Hell this truly hits home. If life is meaningless and random and has no point then it is our job as, probably, the only rational thinking creatures on this planet to ascribe meaning to it. The meaning of life is to make meaning of life.
And 42.
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