Living on other planets while living on earth

What snaps you back to reality?

One of the hardest things in the world is trying to think about living in other people’s shoes. Mainly because we have our own shoes and our own ideas about them, and where they need to go. As we get older, there’s a wisdom we develop that allows us to stop and think about how we’ve traversed the world and if we accidentally stomped on anything we shouldn’t have. Yet, it’s unlikely we can change anything about where we’ve been. We can only learn from slowing down, breathing calmly, and being honest about opportunities to grow. It’s important to be conscious of this wisdom, take stock of it, chat with others about it, and then challenge its validity. If we don’t, then what’s the point of bumping into each other’s lives?

---

I read an article about the in-depth anatomy of a panic attack. It’s both a marvel and a complete fucking nightmare. The banal explanation is that it feels otherwordly or out of body, but essentially it’s completely and utter terror for a very short amount of time.

I remember the first time I got one. I was probably in high school and it came after a long night of smoking cigarettes. I woke up in a panic, unable to breathe, but completely alert. I had no idea what was going on at the time and associated the experience with smoking too many Marlboro Reds. But it also crossed my mind that there was a small chance I was being abducted by aliens.

The panic attacks didn’t happen often, but that first time scared the hell out of me.

A few more times throughout the years led me to quit smoking cold turkey. But tobacco wasn’t the culprit. I’m not entirely sure what was, but they started to happen sporadically out in the wild. It could have been career, relationship stress, financial stress (always), or all of the Nietsche I read in college. The article I read boiled them down to “a diverse set of stressors — like traumatic events, financial worries or even public speaking — can prompt panic attacks. But they can also occur unexpectedly, with no discernible trigger.”

There are scenes throughout Ted Lasso that reminded me of those unexpected times: the time I took my nephew to an IMAX film and felt the hastiness of my breaths. Or the time I got on a smaller airplane from Montreal to Chicago and had to simply sing some songs in my head to calm down. Or the almost every time I have a great workout, eat that burger I wanted, discover that new song, and edit those awesome photos, when I wake up with a five-minute battle of convincing myself breathing is simple and calm. These fuckers are like a cold, happening a few times a year, but with the sneakiness of a toe cramp. Again, they didn’t happen that often, but enough to make me start developing habits to control them.

One of those habits has been photography, or actually thinking about the process of getting a camera together, adjusting an exposure, and clicking a shutter. It’s so soothing to me. Contrary to anything that is medically written, getting me into spaces where there’s a lot of “action” or lots of people to see is one of my most calming experiences, and thinking about them creates enough distraction and noise in my brain that it helps align everything, like a focal point. Leave me to myself and I agitate. Put me in a scene with 10,000 people trying to get somewhere and I’m like Barry Sanders on a football field: fluid and in control while juking with precision.

---

Last weekend, I spent time with friends in San Franciso (including my buddy David) and attended an EDM musical festival. What can I say? It’s my red corvette but with more dancing. But I spent the wait anxious about a few conversations I knew would happen and the possibility of some panic. I had all of my prescribed remedies, though. Point and shoot camera with a roll of film, scheduled meandering with a friend to record stores across the East Bay, a morning workout planned, and walks to whatever coffee shop to take some candids of all that unsafe San Francisco pavement everyone talks about (for the record, seemed totally safe). No panics; only experiences I could calm myself with.

It made me realize I need to work a little harder, normally, to build newness into my routines in order to stabalize any future stress. Staying home, indoors, all week is not conducive to this. I started thinking more and more about remote work. Big fan here, but I’d be dishonest if I didn’t admit that the downside of working in pajamas all day is almost never leaving my house entirely. And for a few years now, remote work has exasperated this, causing a lot of unnecessary stress. In fact, remote work has increasingly led a lot of people to stressful loneliness. But I want to be clear, driving to work and pretending to be totally happy at work was 10,000 times more stressful. And I think work settings triggering more panic attacks, unexpectedly. They definitely triggered migraines. I simply don’t think I can ever do five days a week of office work anymore. So other, social, and external behaviors need to be explored. I need to drive somewhere and then park where there are hundreds of people milling about. I need someone to yell at me on the street or hear the scrapes of a skateboard or the honking of a horn. In all of that sonic detritus, I feel absorbed and relaxed. And I need to capture it all. What a weirdo, right?

---

I’ll leave you with this. An acquaintence recently posted an old Kurt Vonnegut quote that resonated with me about how I feel about living, experiences, and things like creating nostalgia.

Kurt Vonnegut tells his wife he’s going out to buy an envelope:

“Oh, she says, well, you’re not a poor man. You know, why don’t you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet?

And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I’m going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.

I meet a lot of people. And see some great looking babies. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And I’ll ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don’t know. The moral of the story is — we’re here on Earth to fart around.

And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And what the computer people don’t realize, or they don’t care, is we’re dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And it’s like we’re not supposed to dance at all anymore.”

Let’s all get up and move around a bit right now… or at least dance.

Let’s fart around, ya’ll. Some captures from last weekend’s adventures below. And take a listen to Little Simz, probably top 5 artist from last weekend.

Happy Sunday.