A Graduation Party

“You’re gone man? YOU’RE FUCKING GRADUATING!!!! Awesome man. Four years and a physics degree man…you know what dude….you’re going places man,” Jerry said; drinking some more; another larger gulp than the last.

            “Well, I hope so man. All you can do is just focus on tomorrow you know,” Martin said; drinking a large sip; feeling a pleasant burn in his throat.

            “You know it man. You know what you’re going to do?”

            Martin heard Jerry, but his eyes weren’t on him. He was watching Brittany work the room; everyone’s favorite hostess. All the guys looked; most of the girls had that laugh or smile; the one that said more than needed to be said. Especially the girls next to their men who were like a lioness starring down another lioness. They had their meat and they didn’t want to give it up. She had a beer in one hand; but it was more for effect. Brittany was always buzzed but never on alcohol.

            Some people needed alcohol to feel the buzz of life; they put their nose to the grind and picked it up every once in a while to calm the nerves; to release. Work hard, play hard; Martin’s dad had always said. It had never bothered Martin to work hard. Some people got up in the morning; had to get the motivation to get out of bed. No matter what had happened the night before Martin was up at 7:30 am every morning; hearing the calling. Some people were meant to be fuckups while others were meant to do important things; to be important people. Martin heard this call of importance every day; every morning he woke up.

            “Ya,…well…I got accepted  into some grad schools or there is this laboratory on the East Coast; I might do some research there. NASA stuff actually; we have to get to Mars you know,” Martin said to Jerry; who was there in body but not in mind.

            “Definitely man. You want to partner up? We can run this table in here,” Jerry said; taking another sip.

            “Ya dude, put our name on the list. I have to take a piss,” Martin said; finishing his drink and going through the crowd. Damn, he felt good.  

            He reached the bathroom; sweating hard from all the body heat. The light flickered on and he saw himself in the glass. This was the man, or boy some considered, who was graduating college. He didn’t feel ready to start; he still felt pretty green and childish. He was smarter, ya, but that didn’t mean much. He rolled his eyes and felt even better. The goose was hitting him hard. As with any buzz or drunkenness the thoughts began to swirl; trying to break the wall between thought and speaking. Martin had heard that people are their true selves when they’re drunk. He didn’t agree with that. He agreed that alcohol was a sort of liquid courage and, sometimes, it helped get out thoughts that should have been said before. The problem is, though, most of the time those thoughts aren’t taken seriously because “it’s not coming from you”. Maybe it was, though.

            He was thinking about Brittany; about what he was going to tell her. She still had one year left; it seemed that everyone in this little world he had made up in four years had one year left. He was the only person getting off at this train stop.  He blinked a couple times; sweat dripping down from his brow. It was never enough; all this drinking. His sorrows, his accomplishments; could all be summed up in the bottom of a bottle and, once it was all gone, a whole journey was starting, through the same path of things he called problems, with another bottle. Brittany, he thought, oh Brittany; why couldn’t she be his? Just one night, he thought, that’s all he needed. A bad excuse, though; he knew he wasn’t that kind of man; a man to leave his emotions with a twenty dollar bill for a cab. He blinked again and let his hand touch the door handle.

            The party was as vibrant as he had left it. It’s funny how people think a whole world stops when they leave. If there is anything that amounts to the insignificance of any human it is the fact that the world does not stop with your passing; everything keeps going even when you’re not there.  You know you’re important when, somehow, that ceases to happen. Your that vibrant; that important, that people wait on your every word; wait or your order. Does that make an important man, though, the significance that people put on you? Maybe, Martin thought, maybe other people’s opinions were all that mattered.

            “Martin, get in here. We’re up in two games,” Jerry said.

            “Okay dude,” Martin said, “I’m going to get some more vodka.”

            “Is there any other way to do it man?” Jerry said; raising his glass.

            Martin elbowed his way into the kitchen; just grabbing the whole bottle this time. It didn’t seem that he would be doing any driving this evening.

            He gripped the bottle; catching odd stares from the ladies around the bar. Apparently they thought drinking should be done casually. He took another sip; looking around for the blonde hair; a flash of light touching an angel. The light caught his eyes; Brittany’s mouth opening wide and an ocean of laughter rolling out. Another sip went down his mouth; some of the liquid trickling down his polo.

            “BRITTANY!” he yelled, “Get over here.”

            “Martin, I can’t be in two places at once. I’ll get over there soon,” she said.

            “No,” he said, feeling the courage run up through his veins; through his mind. The bridge from his mind to what came out of his mouth was slowly collapsing.

             Brittany elbowed her way through the crowd; radiant as ever. She reached Martin; with the same smile she had so carelessly craved on her face all night.

            “What’s up Martin? Having fun,” she asked; looking around; still smiling.

            “Ya, a lot more now that you’re here.”

            “Ha, you’re funny Martin. Always one to make me laugh. What’s up? You really wanted me…”

            “Can we go outside; I have to….well, tell you something,” Martin said; drinking some more.

            “Ah…okay,” Beth said; looking awkwardly behind trying to find some knight in shining armor to come and safe her.

            The ten steps to the door (yes he could still count to ten in this state) were like walking on the moon. Maybe a better way to describe was the like the camera in a Spike Lee film; in the scene where he just follows the face of actor while they walk down the street. The cold air brushed in and the potent smell of weed as well. The van was gone, as was Martins sense of time.

            He turned around; eyes wildly coming to meet Beth’s. Her face had calmed down a little and, it seemed, she was preparing herself for yet another drunken confession from one of her guy friends. What did Martin need her help with now? He was a smart guy, very nice guy but, all of these women, usually, all they saw was a student; nothing more.

            “What’s up Martin? I bet you’re excited; you’re getting out of here and into the real world,” Beth said; smiling as the words came out.

            Martin thought about his answer; where to take this and what not. His father had always said to be honest; the worse they could say was no. He needed to milk it a little, though, make her keep guessing.

            “What if I told you I was scared?” Martin asked; looking away as the word scared came out.

            “Scared? Well…I wouldn’t really understand. You’ve gotten great grades and succeeded at everything; why would you be scared?”

            This is something Martin had pondered for many hours; why did he always have this sense that he was never going to meet his goals or to satisfy his thoughts of what his life should be like? Why did he feel that he could always do better? It was this drive that made him succeed but, this thought of never being satisfied, would it set him up to always be looking for another thing; another challenge? Would he be able to live mundane and settled?

            “Workaholic…I’m scared I’ll end up some guy with all these accomplishments; all of….these things to my name except for the one thing that all humans strive to obtain: a….connection…love,” Martin said.

            Beth looked into the buzzed eyes of Martin, first wondering how he was able to articulate so well but, then, wonder what was going on in that impressive brain of his. He was the smartest person Beth knew but also the most complex. If anyone thought they knew who Martin Van Hoen was, well, they were probably wrong. He was one of those people who only showed you what he wanted you to see; a master illusionist.

            What could she say to this? What would give Martin piece of mind?

            “That will come; you know. The women will come, Martin. Right now it’s just all dumb college girls who are all just out to have fun.”

            “Well…(burp)….they’re not all dump college girls; there are a couple of women out there. You see, Beth, it’s not about the sex; the physicality of it all; it’s about a connection. A connection, when formed, passes time and holds for eternity; a connection that gives you worth; that gives you something to plug into at the end of the day. If not, you’re just plugging into your own thoughts, and, well, those can take you only so many places.

            The money, the accomplishments, satisfy it all; but only for a minute. I’m looking for everlasting, Beth, I’m looking for eternity,” Martin said; passion rising in his voice; his breath radiating out in a white haze.

            “Well, like I said….”

            It happened instantly; it was best to do it in the middle of a sentence. It all took over and Martin kissed Beth. Her lips were tense and the confusion could be felt but it soon lessened. Her lips softly cusped into his and time stood still. For Martin this was eternity; the connection he had been feeling for so long was now coming together. They separated after what seemed to be forever. Their eyes met and they stood; as if holding poses for an artist on the ground.

            “Martin….I…..I CAN’T!” Beth said.

            Emotions ran through Beth’s head; all around her body. She didn’t know what to think; she just went off instinct; opened the door and ran into the house. She would not talk to Martin for 3 months after the graduation of the class of 2030. In her mind he was still outside her apartment; perplexed; trying to figure out what was going on.

            For a while, in Martins mind, he lived up to that image. 

Change

The bending and curving of thoughts; ideas; and morals happens on an occasional basis. People say that no one ever changes; yet people forget the variety of human behavior. The yes to one person will be a no the next day. Change happens on minuscule levels yet people rarely call it change.  These are just oddities; things that someone would exclaim, “that’s not like him” or “he rarely does that”. It is these minuscule bends and curves that a person takes that add up to the ultimate change. No matter how well you know someone they will always surprise you in a good or bad way. They will change and, if you do not accept that, you will be one of the talkers muttering away about how they can never change.

            People can hide things well; cloak their emotions through the intricacies of their face and mind. They will hide these emotions, these feelings for most of their life because they, themselves, are also caught under the illusion that they cannot change; that they cannot be compromised. It happens that the thing we treasure most is the underlying price that we can each be brought at.

            Humans that have been able to not give in to these demands; the Thomas Moores, the Socrates; these humans bet their lives and did not flinch. They bucked the tread; and some would argue were not even humans at all. These men could be considered to be on another level; a cut above the rest. This was for many reasons but one could be that they did not change. You would think the way we talk about others they would all be related to these men. That we were all Thomas Moores or Socrates. Ha, very funny I know.

            Do not be anger though, at the fact that you do compromise. Do not be mad that you show the commonalty of human behavior. Let these words be an echo in the caravan of your minds. An echo that, maybe, will reach the inner thoughts of your mind when it matters most; when good has shown itself to you. Then, just maybe, it will resonate enough to where you will be able to match the bet.

            But, yet again, we cannot all be Thomas Moores or Socrates. 

Walter White

I haven't written on this blog in awhile and before writing this spot I began to think of why I had chosen to write about Walter White from AMC's Breaking Bad. This whole month I've been thinking about life and how we all fit into it. What life we are supposed to live; where we're supposed to be and what our legacy will be. I've been so care free and day by day the past year that I think my mindset has taken me away from pondering questions such as those above. It is good to think of these things ever once in awhile but if one gets wrapped up in the future one will only find it becoming the past. I didn't necessarily come to a conclusion to answering these questions but I more so decided that the best thing to do was to live with what I want to do, day by day and to not lose sight of what I wanted to do the day before. I then realized that every day I wake up there is one goal I want all the time: to write and publish a novel.

Upon examining this I then thought about the difficulty I have been having in my writing and that is the development of characters. Now, this brings us to the subject of Walter White who, I believe, is the best character ever developed in the history of dramatic television. For those of you not familiar with Walter White I suggest you catch up on Breaking Bad which is in its final season but, a little bit of background so you're all not exiting this and going to the t.v. Walter White is your typical high school chemistry teacher before he is diagnosed with lung cancer. From the start you see Walter as a man that is stuck in a routine; the same day by day. He is your post Baby Boomer pre Gen Y American who was told to stay in line, get a job, raise a family and put his life on a spread sheet. He uttered in the first season that "I've gone through life feeling like I haven't made any of my own choices. Now, I have a choice, a final choice, with cancer." The way Walt chooses to deal with cancer will forever evolve him in ways that you would never guess. Now, initially Walt wants to make a lot of money quick so his family will be provided for in the case of his death. He turns to making meth and putting his chemistry into an ethically questionable business.

At first it is very awkward watching this middle class, straight laced teacher go through the workings of the drug trade. He enlists a want to be gangstar as his cooking and distribution partner. He is frightened to handle anything that has to do with distributing but he is fine with cooking and reaping the profits. But, it always goes back to the factor of Walt wanting to make his own choices. When a problem arises with the distribution, Walt's partner is beat up by a local drug lord, Walt begins the transformation to what, I believe, is his true self. He shaves his head which is a testament to him not giving in to the time line of cancer, doing it on his own terms, and him beginning to do what he wants. Upon assaulting the criminals who beat up his partner you see Walt take control of the situation and get the distribution on his own terms. He never wanted to micro manage but he now walks into the role of enforcer because he has nothing to lose, or so he believes.

You see, this whole time you sympathize with Walt because he has cancer. You sympathize with him because you want to be like him; you want to live with reckless abandonment and take all the risks that society has not allowed you to take. You sympathize with him because you feel sorry for the good guy who got cancer and might be leaving a baby, wife, and disabled child behind. You sympathize with him because everyone likes to see this guy win; the guy who never got a break in his life. As he tackles the distribution and begins to make money who only want him to make enough and die because it would seem honorable. But, they couldn't make this show last without showing you that there's more of a line to this ethical dilemma; that you have to question whether or not this is all right.

Walter is told that his cancer is in remission and for five minutes you see the joy in the man's face; the man who had accepted that he was dead; you see the tears of joy. In those five minutes you wonder if he'll give it all up; this thing he's good at, this thing that he can make money at with just the cost of his chemistry knowledge. You hope he does because the black cloud of cancer is no longer over him; you hope and wish he goes back to being the family man and lovable goof that goes through life so care free. But, Walter is not like that; he's more complex then anyone ever gave him credit for. He is not purely ruthless like Tony Soprano, well off like Don Draper, or scared like Jex Teller. Unlike all of these characters he is never trying to run from an identity, create a new one, or figure himself out; he is instead finding his true self hidden behind 50 odd years of Saturday bbq's, news at nine, and vacations to Disenyland. Every show Walter gets closer and closer to doing what he truly wanted to do his whole life: be known and respected.

He missed his chance when he left the company "Grey Matter" for personal reasons and since he has been hiding all of his emotions in the everyday monotony it took a confrontation with death, a coffee date, for him to realize what he had once wanted and never gotten. He begins to rationalize his actions, why he's doing things, to the point where the death of a child leaves him emotionless. He begins to understand he can be respected in the underworld of society; he begins to want the money, setting points of stoppage that he meets but then justifies away. He is caught in a life where he is sure he can control everything; where nothing is ever out of reach and the only way is his way. He comments that "Grey Matter" is worth billions of dollars now and, some might say, this is his only motivation. It's never that easy because it's never always about money. Its about what he believes he can earn with money and what he can continue to earn. Eventually, he is not thinking about the user, his partner, his family, he is only thinking about the money and how it makes him feel. How the respect, the cooking, the rush; how it all factors into his perception of himself.

Walter White is the crashed American dream; the capitalistic machine driving the forces of labor for the all mighty dollar; leaving all other things in its path and not accepting the consequences. Walter White is pure greed and want; justifying to none only to please himself. Walter White is all he ever wanted to be but everything everyone else feared. Walter is taking control of his life and doing what he has to do to feed the beast that is sheltered in every human being. He is finding himself, finding the persona that we all repress. The persona that accepts no consequences, that drives itself off selflessness, and never slows down. We're all waiting to see him fall off the cliff but, in the end, the joke will be on us because Walter knows already there's only one end to giving into temptation.