There are four fledgling posts that have nested in my Drafts folder for many years. The first three are based on hand-written notes that go back even further. They’re very personal, so I’ve debated with myself whether to publish them at all.
But a key point of this blog is documenting my life — of leaving my scrawl on the internet wall. Kilroy was here! So was Wyrd Smythe! And it has not escaped my attention, based on page hits and comments, that readers generally enjoy the more personal posts.
These are all “light bulb moments” — epiphanies that gave me key insights to myself (part of the eternal search for who I really am).
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Epiphany #1
Since fairly early in life I’ve had a lot of anger about the world. A friend in high school called me “The Angry Young Man!” There is no question I have a temper, no question there are things that make me angry. I’ve long identified as an irascible misanthropic curmudgeon.
Because of that anger, there have sometimes been relationship problems (with lovers, teachers, friends, family). Ironically, I hardly ever get mad at lovers, teachers, friends, or family. My anger is usually directed at general behaviors of humanity rather than at people in my life. But — a lesson that took too long to learn — it’s hard for close ones to be around.
But I finally realized I’m not naturally angry.
I always assumed, based on my own behavior and the feedback of others, that I was naturally temperamental. I discovered my inner artist early in high school and took up the attitude of needing to “fully embrace my feelings” as an artist.
True, but also a lot of self-indulgent poppycock.
There is a time for that (such as when creating art), but it’s not a good operating principle for dealing with other humans. My experience with temperamental artists taught me to overlook it. Most don’t have that background.
I can thank my dog Samantha for bringing to fruition seeds that were planted by others along the way. I just wish it had happened in a way I wasn’t so ashamed of. (Turns out yelling really scares puppies. A lot. Even when it’s not directed at them. And then your heart shatters and you suddenly realize what people have been saying to you about your anger all these years.) And you resolve to change.
In my defense, I’ve never struck another human in anger (or at all, except maybe in sports), and I’ve never hurt a pet. (I almost wrote “animal” but have done a bit of fishing, and being hooked clearly hurts.)
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It may have started around the time we moved from Minneapolis to Los Angeles. That happened in the middle of my seventh-grade year, so I joined a new school system already in progress.
It also involved big cultural changes. Luckily, I was born in New York City, and my pastor father’s two parishes were both in non-white, non-affluent parts of NYC (the Bronx). That helped with a move from the lily-white suburbs of Minneapolis to the racially mixed, and somewhat tense, city-suburbs of the 1960s Los Angeles metro area (famously said to be 47 suburbs in search of a city).
My severe hearing deficit may also have been a factor. It makes me something of an outsider looking in, and the frustration of missed participation plus the outsider view of the foibles combined to a disdainful outlook.
But the foolishness of people, their frequent needless stupidity, does piss me off. I see it as the source of so much human misery. No doubt some of my antipathy towards the notion of leading with one’s heart rather than one’s head comes from all the trouble it’s caused me over the years.
[Morality really boils down to: Try not to be an asshole!]
Thing is, as a drunk, I’m happy and loving and gentle (although I can get exuberant). To the extent that alcohol strips away the outer layers and reveals the inner core, it seems at heart, I’m a loving gentle — not angry — soul.
Stay mellow, my friends!
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Epiphany #2
In the last 20 years or so, I have sometimes wondered if I might be a psychopath (or maybe merely a sociopath). There are so many places where I don’t seem to connect with people. It began to worry me to the point I started thinking maybe it was just as well I never had a traditional family. Might have turned out like The Shining!
I do wonder about the lack, not so much of empathy or sympathy, but of identification with people. Why do I feel like such an alien amongst others?
I don’t think it’s sociopathy. Maybe I’m on a spectrum?
The thing defining a psychopath is a complete lack of any ability to feel what others feel. I never wince seeing a guy take a shot in the nuts (especially the fake ones in movies, but even seeing it for real). That has made me wonder. I definitely am capable of not being sympathetic, and I’d go so far as to say it’s not always a natural response. A lot has to do with whether I think someone deserves it or not. In contrast, I’ve observed how many people seem to feel it instinctively and broadly.
But my heart can break for people and animals, so I pretty clearly can feel empathy. Rather than the sympathetic, unconditionally loving mother-type, I’m more the stern father-type who hopes the best for you, wants you to succeed, but expects you to pull your weight and take your lumps gracefully.
And as is the case for many fathers, I’m willing to open my wallet or offer my effort and experience when truly needed.
So, less a sociopath than a hard-ass, I guess.
I’ve learned I don’t enjoy certain kinds of movies. I know women who won’t watch movies involving serious threat to a child. I can’t bear to watch serious threats (even in fiction) to girlfriends and wives. And by extension, to women in general. (Which I suppose is either slightly sexist or charmingly old-fashioned.)
There are exceptions. The Alien movies are one example. No problems there whatsoever. Ridley could clearly take care of herself. It’s when the threat is so unmatched, regardless of the target, that I don’t enjoy it.
It may be that I place a high value on an aspect of life that has ever eluded me. We often cherish what we’ve never had the chance to take for granted.
§
My latest era brings deeper reflection than possible before — maybe along with a little aged wisdom. I’m seeing more clearly. I have been for years, actually (since the divorce in 2003).
I’m seeing who I am and, more importantly, who I am not.
It’s tough to accept that many in your family and at work see you (and not entirely without reason) as a “black sheep.” (But then, I sometimes think many of them are just plain old sheep.)
Some find me too crude and unrefined. Ironically, on the other end of the spectrum, some find me too educated and refined. (Seems as if I never win with people no matter what I do.)
Stay sane, my friends!
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Epiphany #3
I’ve often wondered why writing fiction never appealed to me. Seems that every intelligent blogger I know is working on a book. Some are published authors. My (non-blogging) sister published a bunch, and several relatives are also published authors. (At least one is a published scientist.) But I’ve never felt the urge.
Which is odd, because I love and study stories and storytelling. I’ve tried my hand at knocking out a bit of fiction, but never liked the results. After a paragraph or three I lose interest in pursuing it.
I’m not blind to people’s emotional signals. Sometimes I think I might be somewhere on the spectrum, though, maybe just a bit.
On the other hand, I think a lot of “syndromes” — and some cases of autism — are more a natural variation of humans, so maybe this is all another aspect of my being such an outlier.
The notion of writing is a bit like making music. I can play, and I can write, but I’ve never been impressed with either ability.
When I listen to working authors (or working musicians) talk about what they do, I sense they see things beyond my ken. I suppose that, if I really worked at it, I could pick up much of it, but my strong sense is that I lack the knack.
For me, writing and music are spectator sports.
§
I did have a character idea. They say write about what you know, and one thing I know is fixing machines and code. I thought a book or series about a guy who fixes advanced AI systems might be a usable platform for stories.
But I could never think of a single story to tell from that platform.
My subconscious never turned up anything. Often it does when I’m trying to work through something. My background mind stumbles over something good. (Both my handle here and the title of this blog were triggered by letting my mind wander until it fell into the perfect hole.)
Years I’ve had the idea for an AI fixer… but nothing’s popped.
The truth is, there are no stories (or tunes) in me that burn to be told.
[What does burn in my heart is teaching and, to a lesser extent, preaching. I have more teachers and preachers in my family tree than I do authors. I do revel in passing on knowledge. It’s like sharing a wonderful thing, but in sharing it, your part becomes larger rather than smaller. Teaching expands the teacher as well as the student.]
Recently (and this is the epiphany), I realized that part of the reason is that I don’t get people well enough to write fiction about them. (Which pretty much includes all fiction.)
Yet at the same time, I get people all too well (hence my raging misanthropy). I think the truth is that I refuse to embrace that, on average, people are what they are. I persist in wanting them to be better.
Some of it is due to their preoccupation or not caring. Some of it is due to ignorance, which is fixable, and some of it is due to willful stupidity, which usually isn’t. Some of it is due to lack of education, and I suppose some of it is even due to too much.
What I think I’ve realized is that I just don’t like people enough to want to write fiction about them. Or more honestly, to be able to.
The bizarre thing is that in college I saw myself getting into filmmaking. I walked away from that deciding I didn’t want to spend decades working my way up a chancy ladder to maybe, if I was lucky, direct a film someday. (For one thing, I had no contacts, and it’s very hard to get into Hollywood without knowing someone.)
Ironically, with the technology these days, one can make their own movie fairly inexpensively. The flip side is that everyone is doing it, so it’s hard to get noticed. But the early adapters of decent low-cost gear had a rare opportunity never seen in history.
Stay telling stories, my friends!
§ §
Epiphany #4
Damn, I’m slow! It’s taken over 60 years to finally mature and be, at least sort of, the person I believe in.
Oddly, in some sense, it’s a younger me. A return to the person I used to be before life got so confusing, hurtful, weird, and challenging.
My divorce forced a serious self-re-evaluation. I didn’t marry until my early 40s and thought I had the relationship thing nailed by then. Lots of romances before that, but — and this is probably the key— none that lasted any length of time.
That my marriage lasted less than four years was a shock, though.
That said, I’m comfortable knowing it wasn’t anything I did so much as, once again, things not working out. Going from meeting to marriage in a year was a mistake. (That we never merged our bank accounts was probably a clue.) But by my 40s the clock was ticking, and we seemed a good match. Unlike a lot of couples, we enjoyed doing work projects together. And traveling together. But bottom line, she changed her mind. So it goes.
Truth be told, I’m probably too much the lone wolf. At least for me, friendships last much longer than romantic relationships.
It’s nice to know that I can still learn and grow in my near old age. Life is an ongoing process.
Stay evolving, my friends! Go forth and spread beauty and light.
∇
Logos con carne 
June 11th, 2023 at 1:19 pm
> I’ve long identified as an irascible misanthropic curmudgeon.
Me too. I do tend to focus on the injustices of the world when anger, if any, bubbles to the surface. That’s pretty much why I’m a socialist. “Capitalism,” I spit the word as if Karl Marx were my ancestor.
Writing fiction is a driver only if there are stories that must be told. That and the fact that the process, once one becomes adept enough, feels like you’re in your own movie. “The voices in my head direct the pen in my hand.”
June 12th, 2023 at 11:48 am
Yes, exactly. Injustice. I was raised by parents who had a thing about fairness, so unfairness has always been a stick in my craw. Even dogs understand unfairness — try giving one a bigger bone than the other.
Socialism is great in theory. The problem is that too many humans are capitalists at heart.
June 12th, 2023 at 12:25 pm
Capitalism has its uses. But the US model is truly fucked up. Any time I hear the phrase “I’m a self-made man” I wanna puke. Society made you, you idiot. You were just there to catch the bounty.
And will you share it? Give back to all the folks who made it possible?
NO! I earned it all. It’s mine, mine, mine.
June 12th, 2023 at 1:02 pm
Totally agree with you there. Unfettered capitalism is a plague!
June 11th, 2023 at 3:08 pm
Had to look up (misanthropy). It is normal to dislike or have negative feelings about them. I like other people just as long as they don’t try to get too close to me or try so hard to be my friend then I have to distance myself from them. I was fortunately I meet my husband right after high school and we have been together for 50 years. The good thing about this real
June 12th, 2023 at 11:51 am
You may be a fellow misanthrope, but not everyone is. Some people thrive on being around others. (It usually exhausts me, even with friends I like. Classic serious introvert.) I’m okay with people trying to get close, but only the right people, and I’m very selective.
June 11th, 2023 at 5:00 pm
“…my strong sense is that I lack the knack. For me, writing and music are spectator sports.”
As a writer, that is so refreshing to hear. More often you hear people say they’ll get around to publishing a book someday, as if it’s just a matter of taking out the trash or doing their taxes.
I had the same feeling about myself when it comes to art. I took AP art classes in high school, mainly because I enjoyed it, but also—truth be told—I liked getting to paint outside. My art teachers had me put together a college admissions portfolio, but I always knew I wasn’t quite talented enough to make it as an artist. I just didn’t have the knack. I was okay, but okay isn’t really good enough. It would’ve been so much harder for me than for someone who did have the knack, and so I figured I should just bow out. I still enjoy it as a hobby, but I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed taking it seriously.
June 12th, 2023 at 12:01 pm
Ha! I know exactly what you mean by all those who claim they’re going to write a book someday. Many of them already don’t seem to have much interesting to say, so I can’t help but wonder: about what? Maybe they have unexpected depths.
I’d been around “real” musicians enough to understand early that I don’t quite have what they have. Sometimes I think “close” but close only counts in horseshoes and atomic bombs. The realization I’m not a (fiction) writer is recent, though. I didn’t even consider myself a writer at all until a reader of my blog insisted that I was. Even so, I read what professional writers talk about and wonder if she was just flattering me. (We were having a very brief and tempestuous online affair at the time, so she may have been.)
It’s good, don’t you think, to realize where your strengths and weaknesses lie, though? Better than chasing a dream you’re unlikely to ever fulfill. I’m glad I stumbled into computer programming. Loved it, was good at it, and it paid my way through life.
June 12th, 2023 at 2:34 pm
It is good to know your own strengths and weaknesses. Even better when your strengths turn out to be lucrative as yours were!
I don’t know whether your friend was flattering you, but I don’t think she’s wrong. Blogging is certainly writing, though I get why it’s not always recognized as such. It’s really its own form and not every writer can do it well (I know I don’t.)
It’s funny though… I keep hearing advice about blogging that says you should be cranking out posts, but I actually prefer when people don’t do that. If I subscribe to someone’s blog only to find five, six, seven, posts in my email the next day, I will unsubscribe. That’s litter as far as I’m concerned. Nobody can crank out posts at that rate without sacrificing quality. Even daily gets on my nerves. I’d say an average of two per week is high productivity (and very few can get away with this). Any more and you’re writing “content”.
June 13th, 2023 at 2:36 pm
Yeah, it’s one of several ways my life was blessed. Finding a useful skill that I really enjoyed doing.
She did convince me that those who take blog writing seriously (spelling, grammar, etc) are writers. Maybe a lowlier kind of writer compared to novelists, but still writers.
I’m totally with you about high-output bloggers. Some post multiple times per day, and even those who post daily or close to it, I won’t follow. Requires too much attention and, as you say, the content quality isn’t what I favor. (I mostly follow technical or science blogs and YouTube channels). Some bloggers treat their blog as a “Dear Diary” sort of thing, which is actually what blogs started as (“web logs”), but I’m not that interested in anyone’s day-to-day life (even mine).
June 14th, 2023 at 11:10 am
I am wondering if you’ve read, “The Autistic Brain,” by Grandin?
June 14th, 2023 at 3:01 pm
I have not, but I’m aware of Temple Grandin. My take is that she’s a highly intelligent person — if not a genius — who happens to also have autism. I have a buddy with a son who’s something of a counterexample. His parents worry about what will happen to him if they should pass on as it’s highly unlikely he can ever take of, let alone support, himself.
June 14th, 2023 at 3:14 pm
It’s a massive spectrum. I think reading this book would be helpful for you.
June 14th, 2023 at 5:08 pm
It is indeed a massive spectrum. All of humanity is!
June 17th, 2023 at 8:09 am
Hi Wyrd. I’ve been meaning to respond to this wonderful post of yours and the previous ones too, actually, but I had a demanding one-month job recently that took a big chunk of my time I barely had a few moments for anything else. Anyway, it’s good that you were able to release this post bcz I believe it endears you more to your readers when they get to know you better as a person.
I hope you don’t mind me sharing some of my thoughts on what you’ve shared here. I clearly remember an old post (way way back) where you stated a friend of yours had said something like “why all the anger?”
I was clueless at that time when I read it — until I received the unexpected Huge One from you (by reason of my political preference in a previous U.S. election) that led to a long break between us. It’s all water under the bridge now, of course, yet your revelation above has made me understand things more.
Your total honesty at writing and releasing your epiphanies is refreshing. A lot to ponder on.
But for now, I just want you to know I still carry fond memories of our good old days and it’s been a pleasure reading your more personal posts lately.
Wishing you well. 🙂🌿❤️
June 17th, 2023 at 10:33 am
Ah, I was wondering just the other day how you were doing since it had been a while. I hope the demanding job was compensated for by some good income. Glad you enjoyed the post. I wouldn’t post it if I minded readers sharing their thoughts, so think away!
I searched my database of posts for the phrase “why all the anger?” and several variations but couldn’t locate the specific post. Yet, I seem to recall a phrase like it, too. I’ve certainly mentioned stuff very much like it more than once in the past. I even have a Rant category for posts. As I said here, a friend in high school labeled me “The Angry Young Man” (and that phrase does appear in a number of past posts). The epiphany for me was realizing it was due to external forces and wasn’t innate. I’m a happy loving drunk, and that’s my innate state. It’s just that people can be such a vexation to me. I persist in wanting people to be better than they typically are.
Re the “Huge One” — and this is, as you say, ancient history now and not worth rehashing — I recall that I was by then a bit disgruntled over comments you’d made about my interactions with other bloggers. Support for someone I saw as an embarrassment to the human race was more a final straw kind of thing. To be honest, failure to recognize the sort of person he is continues to be an issue for me. An old friend from high school and I don’t talk as much as we used to, and there are some bloggers I don’t follow anymore.
Nostalgia is a warm fuzzy blanket! 😄 (Are you familiar with the term ‘member berries?)
June 20th, 2023 at 5:31 am
I worked as a call center associate for the bpo industry for a month. Getting a job at my age? In this country? Whoa 😃! The job wasn’t easy, though, and trying my best to get along with all kinds of people has been, once more, challenging. Yup, the pay wasn’t bad. I hope I’d be lucky again soon.
Oh ha ha, you still remember my foolishness and silliness at that time. Now I wonder, why did I even do that? I had regretted crossing that line, Wyrd. It had happened with my other blogpals too before that, and you can say I’ve learned my lesson well 🙂.
As to the political one, I did understand your position. One could only either hate the man so much (like you do) or love him so (like I do). The one that I remember hurt and shooed me away was the warning that you’d ban me from your site and make my words disappear at one wave of your hand or click of your finger. The break, I figured then, was inevitable. Oh, how glad I am we’re now “back in each other’s arms.” 😉😃
Yes, I think that’s it. Your post mentioning your friend saying something like “why are you (always) angry?” It was one of your earliest posts, Wyrd. It had stuck in my mind so it does exist.
June 20th, 2023 at 4:22 pm
Well, per the point of this post, no doubt both of us have learned and grown over the years. Yay for us! 😉