Is This Real Life?: David After the Dentist, Existentialism, and Living Inside a Vacuum

I did a little break check last night on the freeway. The person driving in front and to the left of me gave me this lovely opportunity by coming over into my lane and then proceeding to quickly come to a stand-still for no apparent reason. I learned a few things in that moment. a) My breaks do, in fact, work. b) There is nothing quite as surreal as that moment of pure silence when you first slam on the breaks and see that you're not stopping fast enough. c) That the surrealism only increases in intensity from there, for the harder you press, the more deafening that silence is--until it gives way to that hideous, ear-splitting screech.

I learned that either that screech will be followed by more silence, meaning you are saved, or it will be followed by the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal, and you'll want them to carry you away on a stretcher because you just bought the car last weekend, and it's your first one, and... the world can't be that cruel.

Anyway. No breaking glass. We were fine. But the experience was sort of indicative of all of life right now. There has been the most terrible karma going around lately. Cars going in ditches; accidentally driving without license plates, insurance, or a driver's license; people going to jail and getting hideous divorces; insurance being randomly revoked; ex-lovers coming out of nowhere; psychotic and abusive X-husbands ruining people's lives; driving to Elmo instead of Manti; being homeless; siblings falling off the wagon... I could go on forever. Please keep in mind, not all of these things have happened to me personally, but one so often feels the weight of the troubles of those one loves, and so the karma that affects one does seem to affect the whole. "One bad apple spoils the bunch."

This morning my roommates and I had to watch something to lift our spirits. There was a terrible mood over the entire apartment. No one slept well. I was too hot, so eventually I had to open a window, and subsequently had my ear-drums blasted out all night by the sound of passing trains. Not that I don't like the sound of passing trains-- on the contrary, I love it. But it seemed the last straw. Perhaps it may only suffice to say that this morning brought with it the despondent feeling that one had "stayed up all night playing hopscotch."

So the three of us sat around in our "Mac Lab" as we affectionately call it, and watched You Tube's infamous "David After the Dentist". As we watched, I thought: that is philosophy. That is an existential crisis. That is beautiful.

And I couldn't help but want to write about it.

Do you know that feeling that life has taken on a new flavor? I actually hate it--that transition between the old, familiar, and the new, undecided. It is as though the last two months of my life have been one giant page turn and I've been lost in that shuffle; trying to paste together the little scraps I have salvaged and saved, in order to make something of sense and order. Really I just want to ask, as David did, "Why is this happening to me? Is this real life?" and, like David, scream wordlessly at the injustice and insanity of it all. It's Waiting for Godot. It's living inside a vacuum. It's waiting for an open window, and it's as stifling as these last few August days have been.

So, we seek redemption. We seek the other perspective on the story. There has to be that fatherly-figure in the background, unseen, reassuring and answering the question, "is this going to be forever?" with a little chuckle and a simple, "No. No, it won't be forever." The father who knows why his child is going through what he is going through, and knows that things will get better soon.

What to do? Be patient, and wait, and try to change the things that I can change, and forget about the things that I cannot. Try to be grateful that we didn't hit the car in front of us, and that AAA has roadside assistance, and that I have the faculties, resources, and health to help me to find better situations for myself.

In the meantime, I un-apologetically declare, along with David's dad, that "This is real life". Every moment one lives is "real life" and I hate any paradigm that seeks to destroy the necessity of every moment--the sanctity of every moment-- in a real life. Every flavor, every experience-- jealousy, anger, elation, boredom, frustration, fear, anguish, angst, foolishness, nostalgia, love, passion, pain and pleasure-- has a place in "real life". But, we may rest-assured that anything that "feels funny" or that makes us feel like we "can't see anything" won't be forever. We have to believe that eventually we will turn a page, walk into a new room, taste a new flavor; we'll "pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in."

"Oh what a beautiful view", my friends. God willing, it will be sooner than later.