I'll try to write on here more often. I had a complicated first half of 2018, and felt creatively drained. But what can I say, I'm a sucker for nostalgia, and it's nice to try to create when I can.

Creativity became an obsession around, maybe, 2008 or so. I started seeing myself as a creative person, with interesting ideas. I started feeling this way in graduate school, which made me think differently about myself and the world. I had never written a book or even significant short story except for school and a competition or two. Yet suddenly I thought I could write, and I relied on creative conversations as a way to escape the mundane and mediocre.

So I've always seen myself as pursuing creativity. But in the last year, I've been feeling my creativity disappear. Maybe for good reason, as I tried to be more productive, responsible, and intelligent for my job and girlfriend's sake. Was creativity an old friend who had outlived her usefulness? Was creativity merely coping mechanism for those cold New York winter nights, a nursery rhyme to soothe a cranky baby?

I suddenly find myself asking if I do have a creative future, if my life is better off by discarding the highs and lows brought on by creative striving. And I realize now that many of my creative friends and inspirations have long since faded. I miss it. But is this the price to pay for consistency and reliability?

I apologize for triggering language in making my points here:

Oh, you know how it is, always wondering if I have been merciful enough, then becoming angry that I've allowed the guilty to go free again. Many of my internal debates are in some ways about whether I've done justly enough, whether I've been bold enough to live up to my standards. But then, I also know the importance of mercy and forgiveness. How do I "Do justly and love mercy" at the same time?

Well, for many of us, we're most judgmental when we're doing well, right? It is easy to judge the poor when you are rich, to judge the less scholarly when you're getting all A's. So we already know the first trap: being more judgmental when we are doing well. Instead, we should be more merciful when we have been given more. The strong should surrender his strength, money, and time to the weak.

But here's something more subtle. Perhaps we are a little too merciful when our lives are not going well. We are more willing to let ourselves be abused, exploited, or mistreated when we are struggling, when we perhaps think we deserve our low state. Violate me once, shame on you, but then I'm more willing to accept violations from others once the initial violation has made me feel less worthy. Or maybe it's the maneuverings of guilt, seeking to buy penance with our money or other things, to cover our guilty steps.

What's my point? Just because I may be down doesn't mean it's ok to kick me, or that you should join me. And just because I'm up doesn't mean that I should forget for a moment how temporary it all is, how earnings or brains or sex appeal can disintegrate so painfully quickly. Judge from your weakness, if at all, and be willing to surrender in your strength.

The year is 2011. You want to write an aggressive post, promoting your demographic or beliefs, or putting down another group. You log into Xanga.com, or maybe it's already blogger, or wordpress. You start the blog...but then you stop. Because you think of your friend who will object, who belongs to that group. Or you worry that someone in the community will read your post and start a fight over it, a fight you may not win. Your site is not safe enough for your attitude. So you back down.

But now the year is 2017. Your last overtly Republican friend defriended you in 2016. You're on Breitbart, or Jezebel, or another site that strictly caters to your viewpoint. Even if someone does try to disagree with you, a moderator will delete them, or their comments will be buried in thumbs down and minuses from people who agree with you. You finally have a safe space to tell us how you really feel about the Jews, the Christians, or white men.

And so you become radicalized. Oh, you don't use that term. No, no, the other side becomes radicalized. That's for them Muslim terrorists, not for a good American boy like you! You don't even realize the extent to which you no longer tolerate dissent. You can't listen to CNN anymore, or go to your old church. They aren't direct enough, they are too soft and mild for you now.

The year is 2020, and we'll be calling up each other's workplaces, trying to get "The Other" fired in the name of our god. The year is 2020, and you're telling me that 4chan methods of vicious trolling are not just legal, but right and good against the enemy. No, wait, we won't have to wait until 2020. It's already in progress. Because my space can only be safe if your space is being diminished, if the walls are closing in on your freedoms, your rights.

Happy 2017, everyone! It's been a great year! Heh.

The Harvey Weinstein news is shocking and depressing, sure. But what makes it worse is that it seems like he had a mini-army of staffers, directors, and partners who helped him. Woman after woman recounts a similar story. She went with others to a meeting with Harvey. Those "others" would suddenly disappear or be dismissed by Harvey so he could be alone with the vulnerable woman he targeted. So why did that mini-army help him?

And mind you, this isn't about the gender or character of those people. I just wanted to talk about a concept that has been in my mind lately. The way that the little flaws we tolerate in people can lead to overlooking crimes and huge problems.

So I overlook the time you yelled at her, or you smacked him (but only once, and with an open hand, not a fist), and I tell myself you had a bad day. I'm a Christian! I'm forgiving! right? But then, what else have you done in the shadows that I haven't seen? If you misbehave like that in front of me, what have you done behind me? That staffer for Weinstein probably tried to tell themselves that nothing would happen, that Harvey just wanted to discuss business in private. But surely they knew better, after the nth victim? Were they unable to change their mind because they felt guilty for the victims who already had suffered? That's crazy, but that's how escalation of commitment works, in some ways.

There's just a bizarre logic that happens, that once I overlook or partake in some small vice with you, I've now signed up for all your crimes. It's a common theme in literature, and it's worrisome. And we're seeing it now with celebrities, with politicians. People just can't quit Chris Brown, or Chris Christie (lol) or whatever other person it is that they once liked. We can't get off the elevator after the first few floors: no, we need to ride it to the bottom.

Sigh. Escalation of commitment is a real phenomenon. Part of being a good human is being able to bite the hands that feed us, once those hands are proven to be false.

The US Civil War ended differently than most Civil Wars did historically. In most countries, Appomattox would have been the beginning of a slaughter. The Southern generals and their families would have been rounded up and shot. Prison camps would have opened, and Southerners would have been transported to remote states, exiled. The South would not only not rise again, the North would actively crush and occupy it, for good.

But...Ulysses S. Grant and Abraham Lincoln had decided differently. They decided on a resolution that was based on, dare I say, a Christian mindset. (Yes, before you say it, it wasn't necessarily very "Christian" when Sherman rampaged through the South, but that's a different debate for a different day.) They forgave the South. Robert E Lee was not hung on the spot. For the most part, the Southern soldiers were allowed to return to their homes and even keep their pistols.

It's one of the greatest experiments in history. And until now, there's some evidence that it was the right choice. (Although perhaps we should have had a second Civil War after some of the violent atrocities against black people from 1880's on, again, different debate for a different day). But now, that decision has to be re-examined. Because if the seeds of slavery are strong enough that they are sprouting up again, 150 years later, maybe Lincoln was too merciful. Maybe Grant should have hung Lee from the highest tree. It's an awful thought, but it's on the table now.

So...yes, I think a legacy of Christianity in America is up for debate because of the white supremacy actions of the last few years. And so as an American Christian, I find myself thinking that we must resist anything that looks like the return of slavery's evil. The mercy that was extended at Appomattox was done in hope. But if that mercy leads to evil, then judgment must be applied.

I know that's a little out there, and perhaps odd, but just some thoughts.

I’m a professional regret calculator. If my team won first, I’ll still tell you why we should have won by even more points, with greater style and ease. If my girl is on Cloud 9, I’ll fret and whine that I should have gotten her to Cloud 10. You get the idea. Call me Dr. Regret.

So I find it funny that I seem to want to find a regret in my friendship with Nord. I want to claim there was a flaw, to taste my usual regret sandwich. But the truth is,the friendship was respectful and kind and mutually appreciative and with proper boundaries. It is now at a quiet, cheerful, like each other’s social media content level. No one is disappointed, ashamed, misled, or confused, and nothing was unrequited or unappreciated. The one flaw our friendship had resolved itself in such a way that I feel she also noticed it and worked to fix it with me. That's good!

The truth is, finding a flaw keeps the search alive, tells me there is still some Nirvana or nectar that is yet untasted. Finding regrets can be a problem of an idealist, always wanting to find flaws, to make the future paradise all the more bright. That soup was good, but what if… That vacation would have been fantastic if… If only my mom had…

But no, sometimes a thing is a thing is a thing. And I need to keep the regret monster at bay. It’s trying to kill me**, to rob of me of my peace and sanity.

**Medical stats on worry and anxiety apply here, this isn’t much hyperbole

I've been talking a lot with Brother about our childhood. Our parents tried to raise patient, self-controlled men and somewhat succeeded. But there's a hidden problem with patience and self-control.

Suppose someone sins against you every day. Your employer makes you stay over extra time without paying you, or your spouse constantly demands more from you than they should. At a certain point, one needs to say no, have boundaries, and stand up for themselves. So patience and self-control can backfire, as you take on more and more hardship but can't express your frustration because you are a "good boy."

But also, let's take a slightly more uncomfortable example of self control. If you never fight back, people will start to believe you can't fight. If you never flirt or have a significant other, people believe you have no sexual impulses whatsoever. And if you never complain, people will assume you are happy. That's not necessarily a good thing, sadly.

I've learned to selectively complain, and it's actually made my life better. The pressure of being a 100% good boy, of never complaining about anything, is too much. I'll strive for maybe an A- good boy, ha, 90% good and speaking up just enough to be heard.

I saw a post from a Facebook friend where she made no apologies for her pointed political and social posts lately. I liked that; yes, sometimes we are moved in our hearts and we have to speak, we can't be silent.

But oddly enough, I'm in another place for once. Since about...June 2016? I've been relatively silent about politics and religion. It's not fun. I have a lot of thoughts. I want to share. But I started feeling like it was backfiring, that my words were working against me. The point of posting one's words is not really about oneself; the point is for those who hear. If there is no listener who needs to hear what is in my heart, why am I speaking?

I started writing online in maybe 1997, on some old forums that I fervently hope are fully scrubbed off the Internet, haha. And online writing has mostly been very, very good to me. I meet wonderful people in weird, wonderful ways.

But I don't know, I feel like I need to prove I can be silent, that I need to save my words for the hour of greatest need. Maybe I just need to prove I can be quiet, ha, if necessary. Maybe this is humbling myself, in the good, spiritual way of not being overconfident. I don't know, but I'm trying to enjoy this season of silence, even if I don't understand it fully.