Expectations

This is for closure.

I used to have a lot of expectations with things. You name it, I had certain expectations for it, and usually these expectations where high. When I combined these high expectations with my dreamer persona things never went as I expected. I've learned the lesson of expectations many times.

Looking back, I am realizing this awful pattern I would get into. I would have such high expectations that anything below it was a disappointment, and in result I would view most things as a failure. My abilities in sports, in schools, and with girls. Girls were always the hardest lesson to learn. I never got out of this pattern of disappointing myself.

My overly-exaggerated-dreams-turned-into-high-expectations eventually took an emotional toll.

My dreams were very Hollywood. You know, the kind were a guy says stupid stuff but girls still throw themselves at them. I would imagine myself always in the spotlight, usually in slow-motion. My dreams-turned-expectations would always be at the climax, when you learn most about the character and who they really are. I expected to be everyone's hero. The humble, fairly good-looking, kind, generous man who would sweep in, save the day, get the girl, and still be home in time for dinner. ( That last part is a cliche', or at least I think so )

Looking back at what I just wrote I can honestly say that is who I was. Maybe not in public, but definitely the naked-inside-me. Brutally, and painfully honest with myself. How selfish of me. How prideful, arrogant, and boastful. I wonder if everyones dreams are like that? I mean, would it be weird if I wasn't in the spotlight of my own dream? Maybe I'm losing focus because I am talking/blogging about how I would turn my dreams into expectations.

Good thing my dreams never came true. ( although I have had moments of déjà vu )

Now comes the turning point of my dreams-turned-expectations pattern.

There was a girl. I really was starting to like her and I want to say that she was starting to like me. You know, that point where you think both of you are on the same page but you're both waiting for the other person to make a move, or say something about it.

I was at that point.

It all happened so fast though. I felt like I really didn't know that much about this girl, because I only really started getting to know her a couple weeks before. Either way, we hung out a couple of times, doing whatever we felt like. There was always a tension when we were sitting by each other, like a slow chess game waiting for someone to make a move. Her hand would sit on her leg, my hand would sit on my leg. Like we were holding hands that were two feet apart. It was almost torture because I knew I had to do something but just couldn't pull the trigger.

I'm very timid when it comes to doing something risky, or rather, something that could end up being emotionally destructive and awkward.

So on our "date," which I didn't specify as a date but rather an event or hanging out, you know, safe words that don't specify a "date" but could be interpreted like that. Anyways, on this last thing I had such high, imaginative, dreamy expectations that I basically set myself up for failure, which, in my opinion is what happened, even though she said she had a good time.

We watched a movie, and did the same "hand that are two feet apart holding" and that's not even the worst part. Right when I was seriously about to go in for the real hand hold there was the same exact scene in the movie. It was a scene of a guy and girl at a movie theater where the guy wanted to hold hands but she was giving him the cold shoulder.

And that was the end of me seriously thinking about going for the hand hold. I literally rolled my eyes. I wanted to stand up and scream at the screen that they were killing my self-esteem.

I would go on with more things that I should have done but my cowardly timid self couldn't match up to my dreamer self. And because my expectations were so high and because I didn't come close to those expectations I became disappointed.

The worst part was I didn't even open her door when I dropped her off. I just sat in the car, buckled up, told her goodnight and that I had a good time. I did, by the way, have a good time, I was just disappointed in myself that expectations were not reached.

That was the last time we actually hung out. I just never planned anything after that. As to why I didn't plan anything after that. I just don't know. I just didn't know what to do.

Eventually, over time, I realized my long pattern of having too high of expectations and the damage it does to me. So, you can say I learned my lesson. I still have to remind myself on occasion of having high expectations.

My best example of this lesson learned is my mission trip to New Orleans. When asked what I expected to get out of the trip I said, "I don't expect anything. I'm just going to go down there and see what happens." The trip was awesome. I would say it went above and beyond my expectations but I didn't have any expectations so I can't say it.

This is something that has been on my heart recently and keeps me up late at night. This is my lesson learned. This is my closure, for now.

I still can't decide whether having no expectations is good or bad, or even if it is possible. I can't decide if it is better to have expectations, with moderation, or no expectations at all.

Finding Joy in Last Place

I'm arrogant when I drive.

If someone passes me, I pass them. If someone revs their engine next to me, I rev my engine back. If someone is driving super slow, I sit behind them and rev my engine and stare into their rear view mirror so they can see me looking at them hoping they are intimidated.

Stoplights are the same way. Everything is a race to the next red light. (Which is a guarantee if you live where I live) Of course, I realize that it is unfair because the other driver doesn't know but I never care. It's a race, I don't have time to fraternize with the enemy.

I mean, come on, I'm driving a Ford Mustang and because of this I believe I should have my own designated lane where the speed limit doesn't apply. I mean, my car can do the things Conan's can, but better. (see here)

But awhile ago I realized that being first in everything on the road doesn't mean much. That this competition I call driving is a pride issue, and I must rid myself of it.

It reminded me of Donald Miller's Searching For God Knows What where he imagines Adam and Eve visiting him and his friend. Adam and Eve ask why everything is a competition, why we are always trying to "one-up" each other. Why when my sports team loses it's, "they lost" and when the win it's "we won."

It reminded me of my science teacher in eleventh grade telling us that we will never be the best at something. That there will always be someone better than us at something. It was a big downer at that point but now I realize the brilliance of it.

It reminded me of Jesus. Who everyone expected to come to earth and bring down some holy fire on the Romans. You know, go all Chuck Norris on them. But this was a new covenant, a new testament, and things were different now. Instead, Jesus went to the lowest of lows by dying on a cross.

So, regarding my driving, I slowed down, I started finding joy in last place. I didn't make it a competition because I would never be the best and I knew that being in first isn't all that it's hyped up to be. Sure, a Mustang is pretty cool, but it still gets there as fast as any other car.

Am I perfect in this? No, not at all. I still have my moments where I lose my patience and imagine the car ahead of me hitting road spikes, flipping over, (maybe an explosion?) and skidding off to the side as I zoom on by laughing (not really, but you get the picture).

So here's to knowing we're not the best, and finding joy in last place.

Unpublished Poetry : Part Three

This is what happens when you clean your room. You find a poem you wrote "way back in the day" to your friend when he was sick.

Why Are You Sick?

Josh the Bosh
Why are you sick?
are you sick with a cold?
why are you so bold?
are you sick with the flu?
did you wear that pink tutu?

Why are you sick?
You pink tutu dresser
Now, I think of you lesser
You sick dancer
You can go be prancer
you lancer.

You b-ball baller
you shot caller
just go and holler

No b-ball for you
and your silly pink tutu
for I can't see
your pink tutu
with some Nike shocks
you sick sock

Do the soundboard for school
Oh no, no, no, much to sick for that
Make poor little Matt do all of that
You sick little brat.
Why'd you make him do all that

So was it that pink tutu
because you got the flu
or was it poor little Matt
that gave you that
oh, not at all, it was that pink tutu
I bet.

So why are you sick?
You old bosh you
that stink old flu
just got you
so get better soon
oh get better soon
don't you fret
you sick old pink tutu dresser Lancette