God, Creation, and Background

No, I’m not religious, but the first blog starts with God. Seems fitting. (Note to self: don’t start the next blog with the word “No.”) God is the first idea because this is my first blog, my first attempt at this genre of space and rambling. Because that’s what this will inevitably be: an exercise of a Constitutional right, a constitution of my days in words. And such.

Starting out, I found my name is available for me to use here, as a web address. This, in itself, is also a kind of creation, a victory, I can be who I am while here, in the digital netherworld, in this virtual, conceptual space, in this virtual nothingness, where there is so much, thankfully.

(The first and second time I attempted creating this, my Internet Explorer failed and shut down.)

I wonder if that’s what happened the first (few) time(s) God created it all, if his screen went white, and a status window appeared analyzing the possible problem(s), “Chief, we gotta start this over.”

So much goes into this, I see. Picking a background seems especially taxing, as what you choose to stand in front of says so much about you, like choosing friends or friendly wallpaper. My first impulse, as usual, was to go abstract: ambient light patterns, dancing flames (which aren’t abstract, if you know fire), rainbows with color schemes bending their direction. However, I go with the photographer, the historian, the archiver, the creator. Personally (as all of this should be personal), I hate taking pictures, so I don’t take them often. This may have been a learned behavior, from my grandmother, who never looks into the camera when taking a picture. I’ve written about this in several poems and my fascination with it never gets old, as she passively escapes these usually awkward moments with a silent, compliant protest.

But my disdain for taking pictures aside, the idea of a photographer is intriguing. This is an individual who is very much in the moment, in fact, they are the moment; however they are in the one place they will never be seen. Nothing profound there. But the idea of focus and background transfixes. Yes, you are here, looking how you do, but what you’re before says so much about you and the moment (See: classic “sexy” fail – http://www.epicfail.com/2009/08/26/sexy-fail-5/).

All day yesterday, I spent time with good friends: some from high school, some from college. Without saying so, these tend to feel like reunions, to a degree, as there are always a handful of people who you haven’t seen in some time, and the inevitable question is, “Why have you been in the background?” Why, or how, have you grown this discernable distance from me? Consequently, upon asking this of others, we feel the gun turning on us, hoping others wonder why we’ve been in the background of their lives, their own microcosm of creation.

It was during one of these pow-wows, however, my friend Riese strongly recommended I start blogging. Riese, long-time girlfriend of a long-time good friend, has herself become a friend (which doesn’t always happen). In some way, she is also the creator of this first blog, and I thank her. I’m realizing blogs help with this writer’s anxiety to be “good;” from what I can tell, this is all about being consistent, not necessarily good (And then you say, so why am I reading this? And then I’ll say, come on champ, we’re almost done). Consistent like waves, ebb and flow, ocean waves.

(Shameless plug: a poem of mine was published this week: http://tawdrybawdry.com/Poems/PoetryHome.html       If you’re not tired of me at the end of this, feel free)

Riese (whose name I must repeat a third time for Biblical reasons), always seems to remind me of my own change, my own ebb and flow, that “there’s Bryan the (ex)teacher, the reserved romantic,” and then there’s “B,” there’s “Miami B” (she’s heard stories...which ones I’m not entirely sure). The two aren’t exactly day and night, but perhaps minute to minute. Putting time duration aside, the idea of change is a variation on the idea of (self)creation, but scarier. Creation is an announcement, it’s a new leaf on a plant, a new sandwich at your favorite food joint. Creation is bold and understood as a cog in the order of the world. Change, however, is scary, unannounced most times. Change comes in pounds and hair color, cars and college. Change is the world’s biggest secret. Every butterfly one day said I’m tired of having so many legs, and built little huts of change, which I’m sure are made of their version of mucus and pus, and ceased being caterpillars. One day they broke the seal and flew away. Humans don’t have the luxury of being this metaphorical and literal and beautiful all at the same time, but we have the same need for secrecy. From The 48 Laws of Power, a doorstopper of a book I’ve been reading for some time and will no doubt allude to endlessly in this blog, Law 30 is “Make your accomplishments seem effortless.” Accomplishments only come from the private moments of sweat and toil and desire, the bug years of churning oneself into something more beautiful and functional, to unfold and glide. Nobody knows what the butterfly had to do to become, to slide like butter.

Which brings me back to this photographer in the background, clocking change. How have you changed? Do you like what you see? (Yes, you)

I will keep this under 1000 words. I’ll admit, I’m sitting in McDonald’s, among screaming kids and Spanish-speaking French fries. In America, we’ve made sure we can see how fast our food is, and want to see our McGriddles made and fries flipped and coffee poured; we want to be part of creation everywhere. Standing here, focusing on the process, we know how many Calories per bite, how many shakes of table salt the once-pretty lady gives us. We know, one day, God will spit in our food, politely fold the bag, and tell us have a nice, chewy existence.