Courage and Love in Las Vegas -- I Found the American Dream

By Austin T. Murphy

It's been far too long since the last post, but this one should more than make up for it in quality and style. The two musical themes are "Odds Are" by the Barenaked Ladies and "Hero" by Family of the Year.

The first, most important part of fixing a problem is recognizing that there is a problem. I have recognized mine, and I'm taking steps to stay focused and on the right track. There's still a long ways to go yet, but I'm trying.

The good news is that I just had an incredible experience in some of the most incredible places in the world with some of the most incredible people I've ever known. And I emphasize 'incredible' because a month ago there was doubt as to whether I was capable of making it there and back. 

In the words of Bilbo Baggins, "It's a dangerous business...going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

I kept my feet, and I made it through mostly unscathed. My wallet is certainly lighter but my heart is fuller and stronger.

It's also a dangerous business allowing yourself to trust others. I consider myself to be the strongest person I know, which is why at times I allow myself to be swayed by inadequacies and fuck-ups. This isn't a fair or realistic way to live life, so I'm adding this to the list of ways to improve myself.

My friend Alex inspired me on this trip with a profound epiphany: we shouldn't define people. Everything in the world is mutable and constantly changing, so a label you give to someone could be outdated within a minute, a day, or ten years. It's not fair to others to judge them by their actions when you have no way of knowing their intentions.

And even intentions can be deceiving, because no one is perfect 24/7. We all make mistakes at times.

In this way I'm realizing my mistake by pigeonholing those who have wronged me in the past. I don't know their intentions, and perhaps they were just looking out for their own best interests at times. 

We shouldn't judge/label people, and we shouldn't try to control them for our own selfish reasons.

Rather, we should be happy for others that find love and happiness in their own way. Everything is mutable and changes will come when needed; therefore, we should be grateful for the times and experiences we are given.

Some would say that actions are a response to external stimuli, which would lead me to believe we live in a constant state of choosing between two alternatives. Fight or flight, love and indifference, and fear and happiness are several dichotomous instances.

And while some would say that man's greatest fear is the unknown, I would like to challenge that notion. I believe it was Albus Dumbledore who said we should pity the living, and more than that we should pity those who live without love.

My greatest fear is not that I am inadequate, my greatest fear is the terrifying thought of living without love.   

Which is why it is paramount to allow yourself to forgive those who wrong you, because only then can you let go of the fear of living without love. As long as you love -- and forgive -- there will always be love waiting for you, regardless of whether you expect it or not.

It's important, also, to recognize that you are probably the most important to forgive. You're a different person than you were two seconds, two months, or two decades ago. And the self that made decisions to help or hinder your eventual growth is long gone. 

It does not help to dwell on past failures or mistakes and forget to live for the present and future. 

I'm proud of the person that I have been and the person that I have become. Where there once was a boy now stands a man. I have made choices, stuck with them, and I am proud of the way I arrived at those choices and conquered the fear of failure.

I choose to forgive myself, and I choose to forgive you.

And to circle back to the musical themes, I don't want to be a "hero." I don't need to be one when I trust and love everyone around me. 

I want to be my own person, because only then can others trust me to be there when they need me.

Courage and Love in the Central Valley

By Austin T. Murphy

Avoid the city of Fresno at all costs. You have been warned.

    The world is a fickle place, my friends. Although we’d like to believe we are better than the herd, we all waver between moods and opinions, living our lives in the in-betweens much more  than the peaks and valleys.

    And that’s ok.

    Permanence is beautiful, like the redwood tree, the Grand Canyon, and the Great Wall of China. But humans are not permanent. We exist here for a short time, and in that time we value our personal experiences and knowledge above all else, for that is all we know.

    That’s why it is ok for us to change our minds from time to time. After all, nothing lasts anyways.

    Hell, the media does it for us when they are constantly telling us that we should hate, then  love, then resent, then admire LeBron James, Tiger Woods, Kobe Bryant, Tom Brady, Richard Sherman, Tim Tebow, Barry Bonds, Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, Chris Brown, and Kim Kardashian all within the course of the week.

But that’s not really the point at all, is it? Thank goodness I caught myself, because that could have gone in a strange direction.

The point, I suppose, is that this isn’t really about humans, and this definitely isn’t about celebrities, landmarks, or nature.

This is about me, and the fact that I can’t make up my damn mind about what to do about you.

I loved you. And I use the past tense because I can’t know if I still do anymore. I haven’t seen you in months, and the last time I did I swore I wouldn’t keep carrying on.

I can be sure of that little bit, though. I definitely loved you. That is a fact.

And I’m well aware that people can change. After all, I am 110% different from the person I was five years, ten years, even twenty years ago.

And I’m pausing briefly here because I know I’m going to need some help from my favorite musicians to say what I really ought to say.

This is certainly a different kind of piece; for anyone of you reading, welcome to the real me.

Inhale. Exhale.

Some days I can’t stop thinking about how perfect it felt when we were happy. I’d call you over to the couch, put my arms around you, and bask in the smile spread across your face.

I often told you that you fit perfectly in my arms.

And then I gather myself, ten seconds later, and remember all of the ugliness that came out of us. All the terrible things I said, and remember that I haven’t always been the best man I am capable of being.

But it takes two to tango, and you have that strange ability to push my buttons even with your silence. I know you so well, and you know that I do. I’m utterly convinced that you do it on purpose when you feign ignorance and play the martyr.

I’m not perfect, but neither are you. And just because I don’t want to hold onto the bad moments or make note of every fault you’ve ever made doesn’t mean that the bad moments don’t happen or that you are infallible.

It just means that we are both human, and we are both capable of making mistakes.

And hell, maybe you were a mistake to me. But I’d like to think not.

I just don’t understand what you want at this point. I don’t understand how you can honestly think that I want to talk to you less than a week after I told you I don’t want you to in my life. I said it quite clear. I was there. And you heard me.

But of course it goes back to the precedent I’ve set. You have no reason, other than intermittent periods or months of silence, to believe that I’ll ever be true to my word. After all, I always slip up, I always let down my guard and relapse back into answering the phone when you call eventually.

I’m like a clock that way. You can always count on me to let you back in even though I shouldn’t.

In the end I guess it all just comes down to asking myself what I really want, which is about as simple as reciting the first three hundred digits of pi by memory.

3.14159265....

What I want, or at least what I think I want, is for you to wake up to the reality that we can’t try again, that we can’t be friends, and that we are both much better off accepting that and not kidding ourselves.

We have long since established that we simply have fundamental differences of opinion and values. Not to mention that I’ll forever hate myself in remembering the terrible things I’ve been and said to you.

But I can hear it in your voice when you speak that you still believe somehow. And that’s the problem. You are so sheltered and protected that you don’t see the situation clearly for what it is, and that’s not me calling you out or pretending to be better or wiser than you.

That’s me calling it as I see it, and I see that we have grown up in different situations. Sure we have similarities, but there have been so many times that you don’t understand my motives or intentions all because of how you were raised and the life you’ve lived.

You don’t understand. At all. But I want you to, so badly.

And so I have to keep truckin’, keep moving forward with blinders like Abraham leaving Sodom and Gomorrah.

Well that has to be a first. Wasn’t planning on taking this all the way back to Genesis when I started, but c’est la vie--as if that is any valid excuse.

And I have to keep my eyes straight ahead and my mind clear, and I have to try as hard as I can not to think of you whenever I listen to one of the two hundred love songs on my phone, because that’s what makes it the hardest.

At this point, I really don’t have anything else to say other than thank god I left the Central Valley, and thank god I’m naive enough to believe that everything happens for a reason.

Because, frankly, that is the only reason I can still hope that there’s an answer around the corner, another adventure to undertake, and another girl that I can lose my mind over just like I’ve always done.

It has to happen...because there’s no way I was put on this Earth just to write the abstract and objective, destined to desire but never taste the sweet marrow of life.

But if it doesn’t there’s no point in bitching about the inevitable. Whatever is going to happen will happen with or without my consent or happiness.

God, this has to be the saddest point I’ve made in awhile. If you’ve made it this far, I’m truly sorry that I can’t leave you with something more uplifting, but “Silver Springs” just came on and I need to end this before it makes me any angrier.

If you have a significant other in your life, boo for you. Because, as I paraphrase Beverly D’Angelo in Christmas Vacation, “It’s the [holidays], and we’re all in misery.” 

© Austin T. Murphy 2016 

Courage and Love in the California Desert

By Austin T. Murphy

Image Credit: Coheed & Cambria

Sometimes you have to take three steps backwards before you can move forward. With that being said, the two theme songs for this post are "Love Yourself" by Justin Bieber and "Basket Case" by Green Day (two songs that probably couldn't sound more different).

I have to apologize for something, but I'm not making this apology to anyone else. I am apologizing to myself because I lied to myself. I said I wouldn't leave my friends and family again, but it happened again. And this time it took me to a place that scared the ever-living shit out of me.

I have a problem. But the best part of having a problem is knowing that you have the tools to fix it. Ever since I was young I have always excelled at mathematics and finding the solution to an equation.

The solution to this "math" problem is basic subtraction:

1+1=2

So, conversely 2-1=1.

Basic logic.

I am not alone, nor will I ever be if I value the relationships in my life. But the most important thing I learned from this life-changing foray into darkness is that you have to love yourself before you can love other people.

I met some of the most incredible people this weekend. And though they all have their own issues, they aren't alone in the struggle. Quoting Billy Joel, "We all have our cross to bear."

If you're lucky, you have other people in your life who are willing to share the load. Be it Samwise Gamgee, Siri, or a youth you have always underestimated, the world is too precious to allow others to dwell in the shadows of obscurity.

And more than anything else, you need to let people know 1) when you need them the most, and 2) that you appreciate everything they have done for you.

My final sentiment today is that we all have our own ways of coping with fear. I already know what mine is, and if you can't tell already it has something to do with organizing letters and numbers on paper. But these coping mechanisms aren't exclusive to dealing with trauma; you can also use them to explain your life and your personal story to anyone that doesn't understand.

The world is filled with billions of people; therefore, it is also filled with billions of stories.

Again, basic logic.

The next time you see me, ask me about mine. I'm sure it is far different from yours, and I know that you can't tell my story nearly as well as I can.

But also know that you are the only person who can tell your story with the utmost honesty and passion. So I'll leave you with a few helpful words from my favorite band, Coheed & Cambria:

"Give them a story -- they want you to."

© Austin T. Murphy 2016 

Courage and Love by the Pacific Ocean

"You were there for me, and I was there for you."

By Austin Murphy

Photo Credit: Fletcher Krawczuk

As a musical person, it surprises me that I have yet to actually correlate these posts to specific songs. At some point I will try to figure out how to add an mp3 player to each individual blog update. With that being said, my recommendation is that you listen to "Let You Go" by the Chainsmokers and "Untouchable" by Cash Cash while reading this today.

I suppose it is fitting to feel older and wiser, after all January is named for Janus--the Roman god of time and transitions (credit goes to Brandon Gillespie for bringing this to my attention). I celebrated my 24th birthday less than a week ago, and I have never felt more alive and excited.

During the week of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, I had an experience that drastically reshaped my perspective and made me understand my own mortality and fortune. I won't go into gruesome detail--1) because it is far more personal than a simple blog post, and 2) because the actual telling of the story would require far too much time and faith on behalf of the reader--but you should know that there are forces at work in this world that the human mind is not prepared to comprehend despite its complexity.

What I will divulge, however, is that the human mind is far more powerful than even the wisest can understand, and fear is rational and present in everyday life. While I feel safe and secure again, my experience took me far outside of anything and everything I have ever known.

I confronted fears that have harbored within my mind for years. I wrestled with my own fear of mortality. I came to terms with my fear of losing a home, brought on years ago by the division of my own family. And I finally let go of my fear of trusting people too much, allowing me to put an end to thoughts of missing someone who wronged me very seriously.

You don't betray the trust of someone who loves you.

Most importantly, perhaps, I put to rest my fear of acceptance. Since I was a young boy I have felt like an outsider in so many situations, but this isn't something that should be feared. Our lives unwind in unexpected ways, but they'll eventually lead you to the people you are meant to cherish and grow old with.

In confronting these fears, my mind journeyed through time and space and explored the very basis for existence and the history of the universe. I could have been lost forever, contemplating and fearing forces and fates greater than myself. Fortunately, I found my way back--in large part due to my passions (music, language, and science) and the memories instilled in my mind of friends and family and their loving faces.

And so I quote the little girl, Rosie, from Universal Studios' 1995 animated film "Balto":

"Thank you...I would have been lost without you."

I won't profess to understand every intricacy of the universe, for that is far too much information for one man to comprehend. I will, however, divulge a well-known secret that many people are already aware of: we need each other, and we must depend on one another for our survival.

Which brings me to another personal anecdote, one which I will divulge in its entirety. After moving to Santa Barbara, my previous residence charged me outrageous amounts of money for the state of my unit upon moving out. While some charges were legitimate, I disputed others that I found to be unreasonable and unfair.

Over the course of the ensuing months I corresponded back and forth with their bookkeeper, eventually settling upon a monthly payment plan that would put the issue to rest. During the past week, however, I learned that new employees had been assigned to my account, and they had not been brought up to speed about my payment plan.

I received a threatening, harassing letter from the "General Manager," informing me that I would be sent to collections if I ignored their final settlement offer. I have communicated back and forth over the past week over email, attempting to explain my situation. My words fell upon deaf ears, however, as the GM has elected to treat me not as a person with actual feelings, but rather as an account to be closed out.

Admittedly, I have never attended business school nor taken a course in ethics, but I understand very well that people respond far better to manners, cordiality, and compassion than they do to threats and disdain. While I do intend to finalize my balance, my only request has been for the GM to apologize for the way I have been treated on behalf of the residence. Thus far, she has been unsympathetic, disrespectful, and unapologetic--and I am truly sorry for any future tenants who will have to deal with this woman in the future.

(She and the residence will remain nameless, because I am not so vindictive that I want to harm their business.)

I carry far too little concern to harbor ill feelings towards this woman, but she is portraying very well the apathy that pervades modern humanity. So many disputes and conflicts in life can be avoided if people possessed empathy and could extract themselves from their own self-concern and narcissism.

Experiences like the ones I have endured are not to be feared, but rather embraced as signs that you are learning more about yourself and this precious world. They serve as benchmarks and test, as totems and mementos that people are inherently good.

But most importantly, they serve as reminders. "Reminders of what?" you may ask. To this I answer: I don't know. It's different for everybody. For you it could be a reminder of the first time you met your best friend or your personal hero, and for another it could be a reminder of the first time he or she farted in front of a significant other or ate Thai food.

For me, it's a reminder that it's okay to let go of some people and grudges, and it's okay to let new people into your life--people you can trust. And the memory can be brought forth just by looking into someone's eyes, wherein you'll find an implicit understanding of goodwill, benevolence, and love.

For me, I'm reminded of a feeling I haven't felt in a long time, of a person I haven't seen in what feels like forever--but I'm ready to let the past go and move forward with the truest optimism and surefire determination. We were not made to walk this world alone, and I'm ready to set my sails again and let the wind guide me into the bluest ocean of possibility and into the arms of whoever I'm destined to find.

As Billy Joel once sang, "Honesty is such a lonely word." But while trust and compassion may be hard to find, they are quite easy to embrace. I'm writing this for a special, select group and for some of the most incredible people I've ever met. And I want you to know that I trust you with my life, and I will always be there for you.

It's paramount that we let our friends and family know how important they are to us. And so I say to all who have been there for me when I needed them--and in Swedish, no less, because I learned these three words from a remarkable young lady who never fails to put a smile on my face...

Jag älskar dig.

© Austin T. Murphy 2016

Courage and Love in the Arizona Desert

“Things Are Things”

By Austin Murphy

          I have asserted time and time again that I am not omniscient, never will be, and I don’t strive to conquer all knowledge. At some point, however, it is fair to say that I DO know some things. I know how to cook pasta. I know that the square root of four is two. And I know how to identify an asshole when I see one.

          In addition, I also know that the world we live in is so intricately nuanced that there is naught but to accept the wondrous disbelief that accompanies miraculous moments.

          And to be clear, it is crucial to acknowledge that miracles happen infrequently and aren’t easy to recognize, but an open-minded person will more often than not realize when a greater power has intervened on their behalf.

          Just before New Years, I traveled with 16 other friends to Chandler, Arizona. There we discovered more than just self-serving debauchery, hedonism, and lawlessness. We explored more than just the inner-workings of ourselves, and we found more than just a higher purpose.

          We found each other. We fortified friendships. We learned that the Arizona desert is a cold, unforgiving place, and we needed our mutual understanding and care to survive the winter evenings.

          Once upon a time, I had a girlfriend whom I loved very much. She had a warm, caring heart, but one thing that has always bothered me is her insistence that I “lacked” valuable possessions. And while, at the time, I would have agreed that I didn’t have much in the way of “toys,” I would argue that I am wealthier now than in previous years--regardless of my belongings.

          The most invaluable possessions that I have accumulated in recent years are friendships. Ever since I was young, it has been a personal struggle of mine to forge lasting bonds with people, especially because of a constant turnover in my youth. When I was eleven, two of my best friends moved away. In eighth grade my best friend left for the Philippines, and it took until midway through my sophomore year of high school before I had a clear-cut friend group again--although this was more because all of us were rather lost and insecure in our ways. To make matters worse, this all came during a period of my life when I struggled socially and was dangerously introverted.

College changed me, but at the same time, it wasn’t in the way I expected or planned. I immediately joined a fraternity, confident that I had finally found the “brothers” that I would keep for life. But despite the house’s assertion that my pledge class would provide the “closest friends in this lifetime,” I’ve found that it gave me the exact opposite. The majority of my pledge class is without a doubt the cliquiest, most disloyal group of people I’ve ever encountered.

But within that snake pit of 26 young idiots, I managed to find one brother that is still arguably my closest friend. And despite the turmoil I withstood over the next four years, I have found a few others, dispersed amongst the other pledge classes, that I know will be my best friends for life.

And so I return to our time in Arizona. The fraternity gave me four years of experiences and memories that did little to strengthen my bonds and much more to elucidate who I can count as a true friend. I spent 72 hours in the desert and already know that I can trust my 16 compañeros with anything and would do anything for each of them.

And so it is proven again that the world is a funny place. Experiences mean infinitely more than possessions, although it is hard to tell which experiences will prove to be the most important.

Obviously, I am a far different person now than when I met my fraternity “brothers,” but I can’t help but fall back on the fact that the friends I’ve made over the past two years, in several different cities, are more open-minded, accepting people than I’ve ever known. It almost feels like a sense of magnetism; everywhere we go and enjoy ourselves, I feel like we attract like-minded, happy people who want to share in our enjoyment.

With that, I’ll circle back again to the idea of miracles. And as a self-admitted non-omniscient being, I can say without a doubt that my experience in Arizona was a miracle, and my decision to move back to Santa Barbara was the absolute right decision for my life. I am done questioning my gut instinct, even though it still trembles in fear at times.

Because I know that the trembling is actually vibrating, and the fear is excitement. There is too much natural good in this world to let yourself be paralyzed by fear (and by God I sound an awful lot like Patrick Swayze or the crazy, old bat Beth Grant plays in “Donnie Darko.”)

Fear is a necessary reaction we have developed over the course of human history. But in all honesty, the kinds of things we dread or bemoan in our daily, well-adjusted lives just aren’t worth the effort. No one is going to cause you physical pain if you are rejected by that cute, blonde barista at Starbucks if you ask her out. Your life won’t be adversely impacted if your dream job rejects you during a job hunt.

            Now if you’re reading this and you work in a dangerous field that deals with pain or death on the daily, then I apologize profusely and will permit you to continue to dwell in fear. But you should understand that there are alternatives to this lifestyle, and you deserve to find the best in life. Even suppressed, unsatisfied people in the 18th century understood that it is our natural right to pursue that which makes us happy.

            None of us is omniscient nor perfect, but we are all made of the same basic elements, and we all are capable of recognizing that supreme joy and an honest smile are two of the most beautiful things to behold on this sacred Earth.

© Austin T. Murphy 2016