Random Thoughts from a Nonlinear Mind: Volume 2: The Athena Chapters,
Chapter Four:
Hey There Athena
Preface
A Preface, seriously? Do I really need to include a Preface in any essay, especially this one, or have I reached new heights when it comes to absurdity? I will let out a little sigh as I tell you that I have to start this essay off with an open letter to Athena. Why? Well, something happened to me when I was about halfway done with this chapter, and it completely changed the texture of what I was writing. In fact, it changed a whole bunch of things. As I kept revising this essay, I found myself writing and rewriting what amounts to an introduction to the next essay. It is my hope that all becomes clear at the end of Chapter 5. I think the letter might help part a few clouds so here goes.
Hey There Athena,
How are you? I find that I have to remind myself often that you don’t know me at all in spite of all that wavelength stuff I have written so much about. So let me tell you this: I am one of those rare guys who actually listen, I am not one of those people who wait to talk. I am sure that is the reason that I have so many young women as friends. I just might be the only guy they know who does more than pretend to listen to them, at least that is the impression I get. With that in mind, I really would like to know how you are doing. If you ever want to talk, I guarantee I will listen.
Even though you didn’t ask, I need to tell you how I am getting along. I am compelled to tell you about something that happened to me a few months ago; it was really crappy and relatively traumatic. I had a very bad day, a very bad day indeed. I nearly drown in a cold, smelly swamp. You can’t imagine how much that sucked. I can’t really put into words exactly what happened out there, but I certainly try in the next essay. Apparently, as a result of what happened, I am supposed to make you say yes or no to my lunch date request. (Huh, really, what is that all about?) Boy, is that a long and interesting story. I tell it in the next essay.
So, I am supposed to ask you to say yes or no to letting me buy you lunch. Have you thought about it at all? Have you made up your mind one way or the other, or are you too busy to even consider it? Maybe you have thought about it, and you simply can’t make up your mind. If that is the case, then I would like to offer up a suggestion. I have found that the following technique is damn clever and, perhaps more importantly, it works very well. All you have to do is take a coin and let heads equal yes, and tails mean no. Take it and throw it way up in the air. The great thing about this method is that it doesn’t matter how the coin lands. You will find that you are rooting for either heads or tails while it is in the air, and there is your answer. If you decide you want to do that, I would appreciate it very much if you let me know how that works out.
You know Athena, one thing keeps coming to mind, and I think it might be important to say a few words about it. I’m sorry if these essays throw you off or if you find them disturbing in any way. They sometimes disturb me, and I am the one writing them. The big problem is that I have never been inspired like this before, and the words just keep coming. The words combine to form sentences, and the sentences come together to make paragraphs, and …you get it. Just think of this, things could be a hell of a lot worse. Can you imagine the crap I would have been sending you if I fancied myself a poet? Good grief.
I think you know exactly why I am writing chapter after chapter, don’t you Athena? After I went home from the concert, I started doing some research about you and your band. It quickly became clear to me that if I did nothing, I was never going to hear from you anyway. In Chapter Seven, I go into greater detail about my decision to keep writing about the night we met and the fallout. I realize I am taking a big risk, but my options are limited. Besides, I have nothing to lose.
One other thing, lots of my friends have varying opinions on what I should do about you; some have really strong opinions. I bet you can imagine what that is all about. A fair number believe I have lost my mind, am totally wasting my time, or any combination thereof. On the other hand, some of them tell me that I need to show up at some random show and tap you on the shoulder. At least that way, I can get an answer to my lunch question. I want you to know I will never, ever do that. In fact, I think that is the worst damn idea I have ever heard. If you and I ever see each other again, it will be at your request; I promise you that.
I wanted to let you know that an implicit theme of this essay is that I was writing it anticipating that I would never hear from you again, that you and I would have no interaction at all. That is reasonable enough, isn’t it? The next essay takes a different approach. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I see no reason not just to spill it. Hell, I was near death in that damn swamp, and I was lucky to get out of there. Trust me, that changes things. The day after I met you I told Erin, my sister in law, that even if I never saw you again that meeting you was one of the most important things that has ever happened to me. I knew that in the instant between the time it took you to say “I’m” and “Athena.“ After writing nonstop for nine months and running every day pain-free at the cemetery with all the geese, deer, and bunnies all, I can say is “true that.”
Ryan-Tyler
*****
I had no intention of ever writing another essay about the intriguing and mysterious Athena from Athens. I really didn’t. But then again, I never had any idea I would write even a single essay about her. Prior to meeting her, I had never devoted an entire essay to a single person, be they alive or dead, famous or infamous, or anywhere in between. It simply never occurred to me even though I am constantly studying fascinating people like Einstein and Darwin. Things are getting “curiouser and curiouser,” aren’t they?
So, this is my fourth essay about her, and I guess I probably should give a bit of an update about what has happened. Well, pretty much nothing. Talk about your one-sided relationships (relationship?). Good grief. As it stands right now, the ratio of words written to Athena compared to the ones I get back stands at 3,000 to one. My guess is that most of you are laughing your heads off, at least that is the reaction I get from many people when they ask me if I have heard from “that Athena woman.” Well, the ratio is going to change after this essay, isn’t it? There is nothing I can do about it; I am once again being compelled to write, so here I go.
You know what, though? I did get some words back, she hasn’t totally blown me off, and I take that as a good thing. Look at it this way: How many guys out there reading this essay have ever mustered up the courage to approach the most beautiful woman they have ever seen? Out of those, how many actually got the woman to talk to them? Sure, I am still trying to get her to go to lunch with me, but I am not out of ammunition quite yet. Besides, the way I see it, I am way ahead of the hundreds of thousands (yes, I said hundreds of thousands) of guys who just stare at her and shrink back into themselves as they stand in a puddle of their own drool. But then again, what the hell do I know? Interestingly, I find that I am asking myself that question a lot lately. My preliminary answer is, of course, “not much.”
I think I need to backtrack a bit and clarify that last paragraph. Chapter 2 tells the story of why I introduced myself to her. Initially, it had nothing to do with how beautiful I thought she was. I was standing so far back from the stage that I couldn’t really get a good look at her anyway. Besides, my reaction to her had absolutely nothing to do with how she looked or what she was wearing. A quick review of Chapter 2 should convince anyone of that even though I apparently have not persuaded Athena that my aim is true and that my intentions are noble.
This brings me to an interesting point that relates to our present topic. Occasionally people will want to introduce me to some unknown woman or another. OK, maybe it happens more than occasionally. The explanation for why I need to meet this person is always, and I mean always, the same. “She is sooooooo cute; you just have to meet her.” I have no idea how or why people get the impression that “cuteness” is at the top of my list when it comes to someone I might be interested in eating lunch with. Never once have I been approached with an offer to meet someone because she is charming and interesting or creative and intelligent or because she has a giant spark that can light up a city block. Not one time has that happened, and it should be apparent that I don’t think it ever will. From a practical standpoint, such people are exceedingly rare, too rare to show up in any matchmaker scenario I can envision. I offer the following up as evidence. Can you guess how many of these extraordinary people I have met in my life? Yep, a grand total of one.
The other thing about this situation that drives me crazy is that if I am in a mood to ask more about the proposed mystery woman (not likely), it quickly becomes apparent that the only reason we would make a good couple is because she is alone and so am I. I am not kidding, that is the best that anyone has ever been able to come up with. That gives a hint as to why I simply gave up a long, long time ago.
So, the next logical question is: Have I finally given up on Athena? Eventually, any person would, right? I heard nothing back from her after I sent Chapter 2, and I know most any reasonable person would call it a day. I, though, am not “most people.” Also, I don’t really know how reasonable I am; I have never thought much about it.
You know, when I wrote in the introduction to this book that all these essays simply represent an attempt to get Athena to go to lunch with me, I wasn’t joking. I certainly haven’t given up on that even though I am not currently making any travel plans. I haven’t been spending any time on Expedia, but here I am writing yet another essay about her. And this isn’t going to be the last one. The next chapter is about a dude (three guesses) who recently came very close to losing his life; the next chapter is about all the thoughts and images that flashed before the eyes of the dude as he struggled to stay afloat in very cold water; the next chapter is about accidents and coincidence and random chance and bucket lists; the next chapter is about a deep insight I had into what meeting Athena has meant to me.
Now that I give it some more thought, this essay isn’t really about her; it is more about my reaction to meeting her. Chapter 4 is more about me. This chapter is an essay about the vibes I got from her and the vibes I sometimes get from other people. Yes, I think that makes more sense. Of course, it is not lost on me that I am making a somewhat ridiculous distinction between the person and my reaction to meeting her. That is OK because this essay is about my reaction to her, my reactions to a few people I have known in the past, and the reaction of a guy named Tom to a young lady named Delilah.
I suppose I could have cleaned up the introduction a little and brought it up to the standards of every English composition teacher out there, but I think I’ll just leave it as it is. I find it more than a little difficult to form clear thesis statements when nothing is clear at all. I think everyone will find that reasonable enough. Besides, what could possibly be more appropriate than me, with my new found voice, finding my literary home in a genre of confusion. Just think, one day Barnes & Noble might have a section called “Confused Literature & Essays.” There might be a big picture of me right above the aisle, along with a link to my 15,000-word wiki page. I can see the tag line now: “You think you’re confused, check out this clown.”
I guess it is about time to get to it as I am already well into this chapter. My story begins where most of my tales start. Just picture me standing or sitting somewhere, minding my own damn business, and having a good old time. That seems to be all the setup I ever need because, ultimately, that is how all the cool stuff happens to me. Apparently, all I have to do is just sit around and wait. A few days ago, that is exactly what I was doing.
Last Saturday, I was sitting on my couch, minding my own damn business when my friend Olive came over, and I gave him a guitar lesson. Man, talk about the blind leading the blind. I have got to be one of the worst guitar players ever to pick up the instrument, but Olive is even more hopeless than me. I was showing him one of the guitar parts to Blister in the Sun. We are going to get the boys together and do a cover of the song as soon as someone other than me learns to play it. Even though we are not talking Mozart here, it might be a while. If I were you, I wouldn’t camp out at Youtube waiting for the world premiere of The PF’s version (our band, a musical group that has never even practiced, let alone played out). My guess is it is not coming to your computer screen any time soon.
While we were strumming, my TV screen started to freeze periodically. Olive said that his TV had been doing the same thing, so I decided to flip through the channels to see if the problem was localized to that one station or if it was an issue with the cable service. I happened to stop on VH1. My oh my oh my, I just happened to stop on that channel while they were doing a show on the best songs of the 00s. Not only that, but I happened by right when Hey There Delilah came on. Things that make me go hmmmmmm.
I heard a story I had never heard before, and yet it was a story I know all too well. A guy named Tom from a group called the Plain White T’s wrote that incredible song about a Columbia University undergrad named Delilah. If I ever meet that dude, I am going to buy him a beer or 12. Talk about your kindred spirits, my my my. Once again, I find myself at a loss for words. How many times has that happened in this volume?
If you have not heard that particular song, then I urge you to head on over to Youtube and have a listen. Then I want you to think about why I am going to buy that guy some beers. If the answer surprises you a fraction as much as it did me, you will still be astounded.
Have you given it some thought? Yep, you got it; he met Delilah only once before he wrote one of the most beautiful songs you will ever hear. Listen closely to the lyrics, and if you are not moved by how she moved him, then I will be disappointed. If the song does not touch you, then my guess is that you must have a heart of stone or at least one impervious to emotion. As for me, I am shocked every time I hear that song, and I wish I had known that story before I started writing all these “Athena” essays. I don’t really know what might have changed, but I am sure the previous three essays would be very different.
So, why am I writing about this, and what is the point? Does this essay have some kind of theme, or have I finally taken the big plunge off the deep end? Will I find Tom down there, or did he finally just give up and move on from Delilah? Is there anyone else down there, maybe even someone I know? No, I haven’t taken that leap yet, maybe an unexplainable and blissful type of curiosity has gotten the better of me, and I have to stick around to see what might happen next—more on that later, and a lot more on that in the next chapter.
This essay, as I mentioned earlier, is about the way things just jump out at me on occasion. I am talking about those strange and elusive vibes again. Maybe I am a tad more sensitive than most people to these sorts of things. I know my boy Tom is. How many people have the capacity to be moved the way he was by a single meeting with a woman he didn’t even know? My guess is not many. Yeah, I know I fit into that category of guys that can make complete asses of themselves after meeting someone only one time, but I have little control over that. Talk about stating the obvious, sheesh. I really don’t expect my name to be mentioned when the nominees are called for induction into the Subtlety Hall of Fame.
So, I have pretty much accepted the fact that I am hopeless, and if you can bring yourself to agree, then we can move this story along. If you remember back, I talked in a couple of the previous essays about my library, and I am sure you remember the special shelf. I still can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that there are three CDs standing at attention front and center in that space. Come on over, you will find them right in front of the Vonnegut and Gould books. Once again, good grief.
One of the things that pops into my mind every once in a while is the ultimate fate of that fairly extensive library. Sure, a lot of it now is found on my Kindle, but there are volumes numbering in the thousands that are made of paper. I am going to insist that the books stay together, I really don’t want them split up even though I don’t think I am going to care much once I am gone.
I know that there is a high probability that eventually all those books are going to go to my niece or one of my nephews. It will be handed down to whichever one of them wants it. It will be entirely their choice. The one who gets it will reveal themselves sooner or later. I do have a guess, though, as to who the lucky winner will be.
My guess as to the recipient of my library speaks to another type of vibe detector that I apparently include in my repertoire. It is funny, but there have been a handful of times in my life when the transcendent intelligence of a person has jumped out at me. I have been proven right every single time. Unlike my love life, my intuition has never failed me when it comes to the “genius” vibes I get from some people. I find that most interesting—zero percent success rate in one area and 100 percent in the other. Apparently, there are different types of intuition, and I somehow got in the wrong lines when that nonsense was being handed out. Looking back, I think I might have been better served by having a more serviceable vibe detector when it comes to women than when it comes to discerning some random person’s intellectual ability. Well, I clearly wasn’t given a choice in that matter, either. Thinking back on what might have happened, I am pretty sure that in the staging area we wait in to be born, I got the lines mixed up and somehow got a double dose of charm and personality. That must have been the line I got in instead of the intuition line. Yes, that probably explains it. I got routed back into the same line, the wrong line, at least twice. Of course, the extra charm and personality hasn’t really amounted to much. Talk about your “watch this” moments.
So, about these various vibe detectors I seem to have. Here is a little story about how my other vibe detector works. I had a professor at Harvard that I am still sure is a space alien. He walked into the room, and his genius just jumped out at me. He didn’t even need to say anything. I instantly knew that he was operating on a level different from anyone I had ever met. The course I took with him only solidified my initial impression.
I still vividly remember a question I asked him one day in class. He smiled at me and then took off on the most brilliant intellectual display I have ever witnessed. I felt like I was floating as the clock ticked on and on. When he was done, he paused and said something to the effect of how much he liked teaching at Harvard because the students were so damn smart. I think someone turned off the lights after that because I was beaming enough to light up the entire room. After class, one guy actually came up and congratulated me. Mind you, this guy came up to me and shook my hand for asking a question, not answering one. Clearly, one of my finer moments.
The last time Harvard did a search for a president, I recommended the space alien for the job. I thought he was exactly what the university needed. My voice carries a lot of weight over there, so naturally, they hired an historian instead. Oh well, I have heard that she is doing a fine job, but we need more science and math in this country. My choice of a Christmas present for my niece Haley will shed a little more light on my disappointment in Harvard’s decision.
I bought Haley a pretty cool set of dinos for Christmas. Of course, she is on a big princess kick. All her other presents were Barbie, princess dolls, Tinkerbelle, fairies, and…you get the idea. I bought her dinos because the world has enough princesses, we need more scientists. My message to my beloved alma mater is similar. We have enough historians; we have enough people looking backward; we need trailblazers, we need pioneers. That is why we need a scientist to lead Harvard. Maybe next time, eh?
So, that is enough about how my genius vibe mechanism works. I guess it is time now to take a look back at Chapter 2. Everyone who read it said that it was the best thing I have ever written. That is all fine and dandy, and, in fact, I think they are right. The big problem for me is that every single person who read it seemed to miss the point entirely. Originally, that essay was much longer than it ended up. I had many more “watch this” examples in there, and it became apparent to me that I was way over the top when it came to making the point I wanted to make. Can you guess what I am getting at? Probably not, but I thought I would ask anyway.
Writers use language very specifically because it is pretty much all they have. I used the word “stupid” twice in that essay, and I surely used it on purpose. I did that to link the two “stupid” situations together. I was simply trying to make a point that meeting the girl (isn’t it funny that I still can’t bring myself to say her name) when I was younger was a “watch this” moment, and I was certainly leaving open the possibility that meeting Athena was one, too. I say that with certain caveats. Even if I never see her again, I am thrilled I got to meet Athena. It was the best thing that has happened to me in a long, long time (that is a bit of a white lie). I was not kidding when I wrote that she is the only person I have ever met who I feel is on the same wavelength as me. I feel more strongly about that now than I did when I met her. In fact, I am as sure about that as I have ever been about anything. Also, she reached her hand down my throat and pulled out my voice, and that alone is the greatest and most unexpected thing that has ever happened to me. Wow, that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. That is the proper and logical reaction, don’t you think?
Now that I have found my voice (thanks again, Athena!), I feel inspired and qualified to lead everyone on an interesting, and hopefully, illuminating journey. So go ahead and get yourself ready for what scholars call a “deep think.” Mathematicians are particularly famous for going on these expeditions. While in a “deep think,” you are supposed to concentrate and follow the logic and implications of the argument very closely. Get yourself comfortable, grab a diet coke or a beer, put on some Vivaldi or pop in a Steely Dan CD, and get ready for some mental exercise. What I am now proposing is best thought of in general terms though I am positive most of the people reading this essay will have their own specific experiences to plugin. My deep think is about Chapter 2, and those infamous “watch this” moments. I am not sure I can explain what they are, but I can offer up some clues as to what I think is going on.
Let’s begin here. Do you find it at all odd, from an evolutionary biology standpoint, that any person could have or even should have an instant connection to another? This happens even though you have no idea if the other person is worthy of your time, let alone your adulation. I have definite theories on how this can happen. It starts with the simple assertion that evolution is never satisfied. You might remember Pete Townshend’s song A Little is Enough (common sense’d tell me not to try and continue, but I’m after a piece of that diamond in you). I am certainly not a “connoisseur of Champaign cognac,” set it in front of me, and I would have no idea if “the perfume nearly beats the taste.” The only point I am trying to make is that for evolution, a little is never enough. I have a favorite saying; I always like to remark that evolution has run amok. There are many examples of this, and I will list a few here.
Have you ever heard of the extinct Irish Elk (Megaloceros giganteus)? Talk about your giant antler displays, good grief. Those guys took it to another level. I am not so sure that there was anything practical about having antlers so big that you could barely hold your head up, but the ladies (at least the elk females) thought they were cool.
So, my argument is that if a little bit of antler is good, then a lot is even better. If female Irish Elk are attracted to large antlers, then imagine what can happen if the display becomes gigantic. As evolution, by means of the mechanism of natural selection, runs more and more amok, the antlers get bigger and bigger.
How about peacocks? Those elaborate male displays are their way of saying, “Hey baby, check this out.” Those ridiculous feathers are messages to the females that they are looking at a prime male specimen, someone they should be paying attention to. And, you guessed it, if some feathers are good, then a giant display is even better. If the peacocks with the most elaborate displays keep getting picked by the females, then the genes responsible for the expression of the displays get passed on with greater and greater frequency. As evolution, or perhaps more properly natural selection, runs more and more amok, the displays get more and more ostentatious.
Hmmmmm, inspiration has just hit, and I have few ideas of my own, ideas that I needed decades ago when I was young enough for it to matter. How could it be that these thoughts have escaped me in the past? The next paragraph will give you a hint or two as to what is going through my mind right now.
Elaborate dances are some of my favorite examples of nature running amok. All that nonsense is clearly about reproduction. I have tried a bowerbird dance a few times, and my research shows, unequivocally, that those types of displays, while integral to the reproductive success of a given male bowerbird, do not work on human females. I have a few funny stories about crash and burn scenarios involving a Bahamian beer called Kalik and a bunch of random grad students from a university that I can not recall. Maybe I just don’t want to recall; I probably should just forget the whole thing. In fact, I am not quite sure why I didn’t just delete this paragraph.
You can find lots of bowerbird dances on Youtube. They are astonishing. Watch a few of those videos, and it will start to become clear what I mean when I say what evolution has run amok. Also, you will get a better idea of the impression I made on the female grad students who were forced to watch my performance.
The lives of living organisms are consumed with this type of behavior. Reproduce or lose, that is the nature of life on this planet, even if a given individual is not consciously aware of it. So, how about this? Many evolutionary biologists are uncomfortable with the fact that same-sex relationships are commonplace across many different species. How is this possible if the name of the game is getting your genes into the next generation? In my estimation, it happens for the same reason that some human beings will have sexual relations with animals from a different species. It is because evolution has run amok. If a little is good, then a lot must be even better. The urge to reproduce is good, so the urge to have sex, any kind of sex, is even better.
Those ridiculous and inexplicable instant connections between people fit into this type of category for me. Obviously, people feeling connected is good for reproduction; it is necessary for the survival of the species. In fact, it may well be the key to the development of culture. Pair bonding surely played an important role in our evolutionary history, and early hominids could well have taken up with each other simply because they liked each other, they felt connected. The bad thing is that evolution, as often is the case, has taken the concept to extremes. It has, and continues to, run amok.
So, is this type of connection chemical, physical, simply nonsensical, or something else altogether? I really don’t know, but I am well aware of those who claim it is spiritual. I would like to say a few things about that now and, oddly enough, I need to start by explaining why it is I think humans have such big and powerful brains. That will provide the foundation for my explanation of these type of extraordinary connections.
I think that the greatest example of natural selection running amok that I can think of is that of human intelligence. Does it make a lot of sense that humans evolved mental capacity so great that we are capable of destroying the earth and all its inhabitants? If the earth had a say, do you think it would have opted out of the “intelligence experiment?“ My guess is that decision would have been a “no brainer.”
If evolution had any type of an “unintended consequence” restraint mechanism, things like this would not have been allowed to happen. As it stands, evolution has no ability to see into the future; it deals with living organisms in their present local environments. Traits that better adapt an organism to its local environment are the ones that get selected for through differential reproduction rates. Those specific traits have certainly been known to run amok. Evolution sometimes gets an idea and runs with it; it picks a trajectory and goes full steam ahead. Intelligence absolutely is one such trait, and I want to talk now about where I think all this brain power got its start. As usual, I begin with a story.
Six or seven months ago, I was in the woods when I came across a couple people from a local natural history museum. They were out cataloging the various rare species that are found on the land the museum just purchased. We struck up a conversation, and it eventually led to one of the scientists telling the story of an amphibian that was present on the property. He said he had been struggling for an explanation for the number of toes this species had; it wasn’t what he expected to find. As I recall, this species had one more toe than all its other closely related cousins. He asked me what I thought. I told him that I thought that the variation that he was seeing was just an epiphenomenon, an unintended consequence of evolutionary processes that are far too complex and interactive to give even tangential consideration to structures that might or might not be adaptive. He readily agreed with me. Then I took out the big guns. I told both of them that I think that human intelligence is merely an epiphenomenon of bipedalism. The only reason we started to evolve bigger and more powerful brains is that we got up on two feet. In other words, it was an accident, unintended and yet important. He also agreed with that assessment.
So, what am I to say about the spiritual nature of instant and inexplicable connections between human beings? I think there is a very good chance they are also epiphenomena. A system where reproduction is paramount could easily lead to such unintended consequences as deep and powerful instant connections. I really think it might be as simple as that.
I don’t want anyone to think that I am simply struggling to explain what happened to me when I met Athena. Quite frankly, I don’t need an explanation, and I really don’t care for one. I am not one that needs to intellectualize each and every single thing that happens to me. I do think that random chance and probability play a much larger role in our lives than most of us would be comfortable admitting. That might give a few more clues as to what I think might be going on.
It looks like I really don’t want (and certainly don’t need) an explanation about why I met Athena and what it might mean on some deep, fundamental level of human existence. I’ll be perfectly fine knowing what I know, namely that I am still totally undone even though I have not seen her in nine months. I find that extraordinary, don‘t you? This whole situation is so outside of anything in my previous experience that I will just kick back and smile for a bit. I don’t really see any other viable alternative.
I have to mention that any downside to these types of connections is not a reflection on Athena, Delilah, or any other person who gets caught up in a mess like this. Not at all, they had nothing to do with any of this. I think Delilah and Athena just happened to be standing there, same as Tom and I were. Some things are just inexplicable, aren’t they? If Delilah didn’t want to have anything to do with Tom and if Athena doesn’t want to even talk to me, then that is just the way it goes. As I mentioned earlier, I am still really glad that I got to meet Athena, I truly am. One meeting changed me in ways that I am still struggling to understand. I actually feel comfortable enough to let all the readers in on a little secret, perhaps the worst kept secret in the history of the world, but a secret nonetheless. I have a little “thing” for Athena; I think she is kind of cool. I am not so sure that means anything, though. It still doesn’t change the fact that I was not, at the specific moment I met her, given any choice as to how I was going to react to her. Now I have all the choices in the world. Vibes, feelings, and emotions are just that, nothing more. I clearly will not let them define me, and they will not rule me. Evolutionary processes have certainly run amok in my life, but I can easily hold my hand up and say that enough is enough. I am doing my best to stay above the fray.
You know, I talk a big game, but I think if I only had one wish, I just might burn it to get her to have lunch with me. What a surprise! Sigh, as I mentioned earlier, I am totally hopeless, but it is my belief that admitting it might be my first step on the road to recovery. I like to think that everyone is rooting for me.
As many of these essays are nothing more than informed opinion and unsolicited advice, I do have a suggestion for anyone who has found themselves in a situation similar to the one Tom and I found ourselves confronted with. Maybe you have come face to face with someone and, if they spoke to you in a deep, fundamental way, immediately found yourself saying, “uh oh.” If you can relate at all to the essays in this volume and you have a general idea of what I am talking about, then this next paragraph is just for you. It offers up detailed instructions on what you can do about your dilemma. As always, I am just trying to dig down deep and lend a helping hand.
It all starts with a unicorn ride. Saddle him up (apparently only male unicorns can be ridden) and then take the beast down the winding Bunny Rabbit Trail to Gummi Bear Lake. Once there, you can take a canoe up Fairy Dust Stream to Wood Nymph Forest. Upon your arrival, a group of pixies will lead you directly to the complaint department. After you open the gingerbread door, feel free to have at it. As for me, before I met Athena, I was on a big Vivaldi kick. I think it’s about time to switch out some CDs and get back to the Red Priest. On second thought, maybe not. I have a vague recollection of a conversation I had some months ago with an interesting woman I met in a dive bar. We were talking about Baroque classical music, and we eventually made our way to the Classical Period and to Mozart and his sister, Nannerl. Maybe I will get on with my Mozart studies. I have intended to do that for a long, long time and now seems like the perfect opportunity.
I have decided to end this essay with another open letter. Surprisingly, this one is not for Athena. Quite frankly, I can’t think of one more thing to say to her (boy does that change in the next essay). If our conversation is going any further, the onus is totally on her. I am done for now (more big talk), I am sure I am not even going to send this essay to her, she is going to have to request it (I wrote that before I nearly drown, funny how things like that can change your mind). This letter is addressed to a guy I have never met, the end of this essay consists of a letter to Tom of the Plain White T’s.
Tom,
We have never met, and yet we have walked along a highly unusual path together. A strange and wonderful walk, for sure. I don’t have a lot to say to you; I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you that your song about Delilah is superb. It means a lot to me to hear you sing it.
I don’t know what you think now about what happened to you when you met Delilah. It really doesn’t matter, does it? You were moved in a way most humans will never experience. As for me, I have a pretty good idea about what happened to you. I guess that makes us kindred spirits, at least we have an unusual and interesting experience in common.
If we ever meet, I am going to buy you a beer or 12. We don’t need to talk about Athena, Delilah, the meaning of life, or even the reasons why things might or might not happen. I am not going to mention Kafka or talk about existential philosophy or any evolutionary inspired theories I might have to explain all this nonsense. I think the only thing you and I can do is just kick back, crack open a beer, and take in the scenery. Maybe, just maybe, if we look hard enough, and if our intuition is sharp enough, we both just might find someone in the room that jumps out at us. Then again, maybe not.
I promise you this; if I hear a little voice say, “watch this,” as you get up to move in on a lovely young lady, I won’t say a word. I’ll just sit there like a mute monkey on a banana boat and let you go. I am asking you to do the same for me. Like the kids of South Park, I have learned a few things these past nine months, and I have concluded that sometimes being part of a cosmic gag reel is far better than being passed over for the role. At least that is my story, and you can bet your ass that I am sticking to it.
Ryan-Tyler
