This Post is About Nothing

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Maybe I’ve given up on meaning in life. There isn’t any. Sorry. Get over it.

Maybe life is just too tough some days. Maybe I’m tired of bad shit happening to good people.

Maybe I want goodness for my friends. Though I should say, there are people out there willing to offer it. To them, you are amazing, please don’t ever stop. You have no idea what you, what you few mean to me.

Maybe I just have given up on trying to be decent, not even good, but decent meaning anything to anyone but myself.

At some point, it all means nothing. At some point, maybe, just maybe, you have to do it for yourself. I’m not talking about being selfish, that’s just not my style, most of the time.

Maybe I, and really, this is all about me, it’s my blog, what else were you expecting it to be about? Maybe I need remember to give without expectation of a return. Give with only the joy of giving as it’s only reward. Maybe, just maybe, this is the most cynical of attitudes.

You know what? I’m a weak man. I’m sorry. I am. Think less of me if you wish. It’s probably fair. There are a lot of things I can’t do, I can’t do as a man, I can’t do as a human, I just can’t do. I’m not strong enough. I wish I was. At some point, I don’t know where, we are all just…not strong enough, we are broken.

Maybe this makes me less of a man. I’m sure some think so. Frankly, I pity them. Don’t get me wrong, I want to be more than I am. I’m capable of being so much more. It hurts me, it hurts me, that I’m not more, I have the potential, I know I do, but I don’t, I can’t, and I don’t know why. But somewhere, somehow, I am what I am, and that, that right there, is enough, maybe, just maybe, it’s even downright good.

What I do today, what I will do tomorrow, everything I’ve ever done, I know, amounts to nothing, but maybe, just maybe, that means I’m nothing more, nothing less, than everyone else.

Maybe, just maybe, that means I’m good enough.

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6 Responses to “This Post is About Nothing”

  1. Ya Looblue says:

    i’d argue, actually, that what you do matters much more than you’ll ever know. i know the feeling though, of wanting to know, and not getting more satisfaction than “at least i *hope* it mattered to someone.”
    i use to always want to have “it’s a wonderful life” moments…be able to see what people’s lives would be like if i wasn’t here. in the midst of a very silent fight with depression (that still creeps up sometimes) it was the one selfish thing that i’d allow myself to wish for.
    i think that wanting to make people happy makes us better than good enough. remember our conversation? i think that people like YOU drown out the constant noise of the “hummers”.
    at least from my end, you were the first friend to get me out of my house after knee surgery, the guy who has frozen some really f*cking awesome moments in time forever, and the emotionally available human that spent 2 hours sitting at a bar with me while i alternated between talking about cherries and what i was *actually* thinking…and actually wanted to know.
    you rock, my friend.

  2. Josh Hawkins says:

    Thanks for the kind words.

    The last few years for me have been an interesting, and often losing, battle for meaning, a battle against the dawning realization of my own smallness in the big picture, against my own doubts, against my own limits. Having said that, I wouldn’t trade anything for my life. I know that by and large, even with all the problems, I live a blessed life.

    I also don’t think this battle is uncommon. I think it is oft unspoken. Who the hell wants to talk about how meaningless and how small they are? Who really wants to think about how quickly they will be forgotten and how little they will have advanced humanity? They aren’t “fun” thoughts, they aren’t “fun” conversations. I do think they are worthwhile conversations to have, largely because I think a lot of us think these things, feel this way. Maybe we all think this sometimes, maybe a lot of the time (maybe I have too much time while sitting in my car). Whatever, but it’s natural, maybe even healthy. (blasphemy?)

    I’m also a fan of expressing how I feel, whether that be “good” or “bad” (even if I may often fail in practice). Ultimately, they will both pass, so neither of them is a big deal. The very temporal nature of feelings is an interesting part of their strength, and their weakness. Last night, and many nights, I feel the way I expressed in this post to one degree or another, but not every night, not every day, and while sometimes predictably, sometimes not. With such variation, and such limited duration, I’d rather embrace those feelings. They suck, don’t get me wrong, but they’re going to suck any which way it goes, so maybe I can get some use out of them?

    And this is just an ongoing pet peeve (I have so many), but for some reason expressions of joy and happiness are perfectly acceptable. Expressions of pain, suffering and so many other emotions aren’t. Why? Why such strongly different reactions for the two? Those feelings don’t make me less of person. We all have those feelings. I should be able to talk about them, express them whenever I want (this isn’t towards you, or anyone, this is a me railing against the world type thing. Me and “The Man”, we don’t get along. :) ) And this is probably due to my own restrictions, my own self-censorship, but you know what, some days, a lot of days, I hurt, I’m lonely, and I’m pretty damn empty, and you know what? That sucks, but it’s also okay, it really is okay, and it really does suck. :) The two are not mutually exclusive.

    I don’t know if anything will ever be able to change these feelings I have. They may just be there. It may be that simple. Maybe there is a solution though, I like to think there is, but don’t we always want to believe there is a simple solution to every problem? And how often is there? Don’t get me wrong, it’s always nice to hear kind words (thanks again), it’s always nice to have people ask how you are (thanks). But in all likelihood, this is part of who I am. And you know what, I’m okay with that, it’s part of me that weakens me, but it also has and will provide me with tremendous strength.

    In the end, it’s all fine, it’s all natural.

    PS. I still love your “hummers” term, both for it’s depth of meaning, and that it makes me giggle. Sorry, photogs are just perves. Nothing can be done to change this, and why would you want to?

  3. Aunt Becky says:

    I love that first picture, but I cannot figure out what it is. I’ve been staring for probably 20 minutes and I’m no closer to an answer. Shall it remain an enigma forever?

  4. Josh Hawkins says:

    What, you think this blog is ever going to be about photography or journalism? See, when I said it was going to be about photography, journalism and rambling, what I meant was that I’m just going to ramble and leave the rest of it to guess work.

    Actually, I’ve been meaning to get more back on topic, but alas, I procrastinate.

    Anyhow, all the photos are infra-red, so they look fun, funky, and kinda dreamy. The top one is a rock covered in algae that is floating on top of the water as well as being on the rock. They were taken at some park in the Libertyville area while killing 4 hours in between shoots last Saturday.

    It hopefully is now no longer an enigma. I, though, shall remain an enigma forever. 😉 Or at least until lunch. (And so want to just play with Augie (sp?), he’s so cute, though maybe with gloves next time.)

  5. Zeepdoggie & GringO says:

    Did you just watch “Stuart Smalley Saves His Family?”

  6. Josh Hawkins says:

    Sorry, don’t get the reference, and I’m guessing it’s best that way.

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