The Obligatory Thanksgiving Blog

In his blog from a few weeks ago, my friend Dan wrote at length about the "Woody Allen Question," a query based on a question asked of Woody Allen's character in the movie Manhattan. His character, Isaac Davis, is asked (i'm paraphrasing): "what are the things that make life worth living?"

In true Woody Allen fashion, he neurotically answers the question with a lot of "uhs...," "hmmms...," "wells...," and various sentence fragments about art, movies, music, and culture.

Well, I know that I've touched on the fringes of this question before and probably answered it peripherally, but I don't believe that I've ever really attacked it head-on. And seeing as how Thanksgiving just passed us by, I figure that it 'tis the season to think about the things that are truly important in life.

Specifically, in my life.

Now - how to approach this?

Hmmm....well, obviously this is a difficult question to answer. For a couple of reasons. The most obvious being that the question itself is very, very general. There are hundreds (if not thousands or millions) of things in the world that make "life worth living" for people. To distill these endless possibilities into a list of your own personal "things to be thankful for" is quite difficult.

On a secondary level, this is a difficult question for me on a personal level. This is the case mostly because I've been such an insufferable bastard for the past couple of years. "What?" you ask? Come on, folks...you don't have to pretend to be shocked. I'll admit it...I have been cynical and negative and probably kind of a pain in the ass to spend time with.

Worst of all, however, I know when I act like that. One thing that I will say for myself is that I'm exceptionally self-aware - and pretty astute. I tend to realize what situation I'm in, how I'm reacting to it, and how others are reacting to me all of the time - which is both a blessing and a curse. Lately, my attitude and resulting interactions with people seems to have been an ongoing series of bizarre scenarios where I actually know that I'm doing something that I shouldn't be doing - acting like a jerk, being annoyed/annoying, treating people badly, complaining about stuff, being overtly negative, getting angry for no apparent reason - and for whatever reason, I am nearly powerless to stop it. In some ways, it feels like I've conditioned myself toward these types of reactions.

You see, my entire personality and outlook changed while I lived in Seattle. Don't get me wrong - I've always been sarcastic and a bit cynical - but prior to the last few years, I always held a pretty positive perspective on the world (and the people in it). Even though I am a natural introvert, I really enjoyed the process of communal interaction. I was generally cheerful, often just plain goofy, and usually quite considerate and caring, even though my sense of humor tended to be relatively dark and I definitely had the propensity for periods of extreme instrospection and sometimes - might as well not candy-coat it - depression (which were usually pretty short and kept pretty personal).

I moved to Seattle (and the West Coast, in general) with very good intentions and an excited, eager - hell, nearly a giddy outlook. I was flat-out happy to be moving to an area that I had built up so much in my mind. To me, the Pacific Northwest was the epitome of "cool" - where music, nature, cofee, and outdoor sports ruled and laid back and progressive attitudes prevailed. Well, you could say that I was slightly underwhelmed by the time that I spent there - not by the area, mind you (the natural surroundings are AWESOME out there) - but by the lack of meaningful friendships that we were able to foster and our seeming inability to find comfortable social surroundings. While I definitely did make good friends - friends that I truly value and appreciate - I really never felt accepted or welcomed by Seattle in general. Although very polite, Seattle is absolutely notorious for being a very unfriendly place for those perceived as "outsiders." It's called "The Seattle Freeze" and people have written about it...like this article, for instance (which sums it up quite nicely).

At least partially due to this, somewhere in the last four years, I seem to have developed a sort of wall around myself. I became very cynical and negative - and created a persona for myself that seemed to scream, "you know what? who gives a shit." After awhile (and after coming to the realization that my efforts to make friends seemed to be a pretty futile enterprise), I pretty much stopped making an effort to be pleasant to people and started saying pretty much whatever I was thinking - which was usually quite negative. A few people thought that this was pretty funny and those people tended to like me. Most people were probably somewhat alienated by it - which was fine with me - I was feeling alienated, anyway.

The issue with the "who gives a shit" attitude - for me, at least - is that deep down, I really do give a shit. This is problematic. When your external persona doesn't match your internal composition, you're pretty much asking for personal trouble.

After a couple of years of feeling pretty "down" about everything and really wanting to get back to the east coast to be closer to family, I have come to the conclusion that I really don't like the personality that I've developed over the past few years. It's all sarcasm, cynicism, and cold intellect - which is great for an observational comedian or someone who succeeds wildly at pub trivia - but not so much for someone who is generally lonely and just wants to make friends in unfamiliar places. My personality has become a series of self-defense mechanisms. That's not me - not really, anyway.

Wow, those preceeding few paragraphs were the most personal things that I've written in quite awhile. Didn't expect all of that to come out. Anyway - sorry for the long and personal diatribe about my mental shortcomings...but this does relate to the original topic...and hey...at least I'm being honest.

Back to the original point...in conjunction with development of my irritating alterna-personality, it also seems that I have somehow lost my ability to decipher what it is that I really enjoy. I don't enjoy much of anything in the truest sense of the word lately. I don't even really get excited about things that I know that I really like. Which makes it pretty damn hard to write out a list of "things that make life worth living" or "things to be truly thankful for."

I mean - it's easy to write this list in generalities - you can put together a list of "stuff I'm thankful for" in about two seconds if you don't really give it any thought. For most people, a list consisting of: family, friends, neighbors, their town/city, pets, love, a scattering of nature-related references, and a few random material things would most likely suffice. A list like that could be written by a second-grader for a class project in about 15 minutes (figuring in breaks for paste-eating and vigorous nose-picking).

But when you're considering this list, I think that it's more important that you be specific. What - exactly - do you value? What makes you happy?

Well, now that I've bored you with an exceptionally long (and likely irritating) introduction, here is my list of "things to be thankful for" and/or "things that make life worth living." It's by no means a complete list, but these are the things that come to my mind when I consider my own contentment.

Thanks for reading.

Things That Make Life Worth Living
(or Things I'm Thankful For)

The feeling I get from writing.
A cold wind.
Climbing on rocks, but not necessarily rock climbing.
Seeing my family happy.
Anticapatory gut tightening before plummeting down a steep ski run.
Pumpkins and hay rides.
Trying to see things from a kid's perspective.
Watching someone slip on ice (but not get hurt).
Discovering good music and sharing it with someone else.
Cold water after hiking.
Going to the city after awhile in the country.
Going to the country after awhile in the city.
Being the DJ.
Getting excited and happy about little, stupid things.
Kerry laughing.
Boat rides.
Humor.
Traveling and seeing something new.
Books that make me laugh and think simultaneously.
Playing basketball.
Creating something unique.
Hearing from someone unexpected.
Crudely drawn robots.
The Adirondacks.
The Avett Brothers' song "Die, Die, Die."
Snow.
Chubby babies.
The eerie, yet awkwardly reassuring silence of the forest.
Water fights.
Seeing someone succeed who really deserves it.
Waking up in the parking lot of a music festival.
My big red VW van.
Collaboration with friends.
Grungy and gritty music venues.
Sunday afternoon football.
Reading by candlelight and pretending that makes you cooler than you actually are.
Doing something other people can enjoy.