Why does anybody do anything?

Chaos, © Elsa Dax - Les Chemins de l'Image - 1999,













"Why does anybody do anything? It's just something to do."
-Jonathan, Everything is Illuminated (my newest favorite movie - you should all rent it)

I've been thinking a lot about that the last few days. After hearing lots of things from the book, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, from Pinetree and El Veneno I decided to read it. Pinetree was kind enough to let me borrow it. It's a fantastic book; I read it twice in the last three days and I'm going to buy my own copy of it today, I love it that much.

It is a very introspective, make me think about my life book. It's made me think a lot about why I do the things I do, and why I am who I am. Most of the books that I read are full of grandiose ideas about humanity and duty and doing what's right regardless of the consequences. This book however is much more gritty. It's more about what my life has been like lately (which feels like deja vu from high school), and how people cope with being. Like most good books, it offers many more questions than it does answers.

Why do I do what I do? Is it nurture? Is it nature? Is it both? Should I say that I am who I am due to the way my parent's raised me and the environment I grew up in? Do I like boys because I have some repressed memory of being molested as a child, or because my dad went on too many business trips and never played baseball with me? Is my room in a constant state of chaos because growing up my parents were never particularly gifted at enforcing clean-up rules? Why do I always feels so damn lonely and why am I always so afraid of it? Why can't I learn to just be happy by myself? Why can't I go to bed at night out of fear that my friends will do something without me? Why when my friends do do something without me do I get all bent out of shape about it? It's not like I never do anything with them. Am I really that worried that they all secretly wish that I'd just drop off of the face of the earth? Why is it that I don't feel satisfied with my familial relationships? Why aren't they enough for me? They love me, and care for me, and hold me when I'm really sad. Why do I constantly long for someone else to do it? Why can't I just leave Pinetree the hell alone when he obviously doesn't want me to be around? (Oh yeah, because I love him, and whenever he's upset, or whatever he was last night, I get upset and being as bull-headed as I am I like to think that he really does want me around, he's just too upset, or whatever he was last night, to admit it, and besides what would I be doing if I weren't following him around like a lost little puppy? I'd be sitting at home licking my wounds and wondering why he's acting how he is. So what difference does it make whether he's ignoring me and I'm there or he's ignoring me and I'm not there? At least when I'm there I know for sure that he really just doesn't want to talk to me, but I still get to be around him, which as selfish as it may seem, I always feel better around him, even on the odd occasion when he doesn't want to talk to me. Does that make any sense at all?) Why do I build up these episodes in my head where I think people don't love me or want me anymore and I let it eat at my brain until I'm basically numb and useless? Why can't I just grow up and get married to a woman and have kids and a mini-van like most of my high school friends already have? Why am I still doing the exact same things that I was doing ten years ago? I was on a perfectly good path to graduation from college, I was moving up in the Army, I had callings in my ward that added meaning to my life. How did I get to the point where I really don't give a damn about any of that stuff? Why can't I take anything seriously? Why when I do take things seriously do I suddenly get mournful? Why can't I just be a happy serious? I like being happy. I wonder if I'm really happy or if I've just so masterfully disguised my unhappiness for so long that I've simply convinced myself I'm happy when I'm really not? I wonder if it really matters whether I'm "genuinely" happy, or if I'm so numb to it that I just think I'm happy. Is there really a differnce? OK, I'll stop now. I got it all out of my system. I feel happy again, at least I think I do ;).

I can't believe I just wrote that. I can't believe I let you read that (sometimes I secretly get a kick out of being an exhibitionist - which is what I feel like every time I write a blog). I'd better get to work before I get fired.

p.s. Uzbekistan Dan did get married before the 21st of March. He eloped to Vegas last weekend. I witnessed the entire thing. It was beautiful (in a really funny sort of way). I'll report on that soon.