Aspirations in the Clouds

"Aspirations in the clouds,
But your hopes go down the drain."
 -Howard Jones, "No One Is to Blame"

At times when the Angry White Loner is feeling a bit more melancholy than he normally does, he wonders whether one of the main purposes of his Church mission was to prepare him for rejection. One of the most eye-opening, heartbreaking, and frustrating parts of those two years was learning to deal with closed minds, hearts, and doors on a daily basis. Rejection took place, unfortunately, far more often than acceptance did.

The thing is, though he is used to it by now, rejection never gets any easier.

The AWL went to his weekly institute class tonight with the goal of reaching out and meeting at least a few new people. Maybe even a female or two. He said "hello" to three people he hadn't previously spoken to; all three were seemingly disinterested in talking to him. The girl he recently asked out, or tried to ask out, likewise, made eye contact with him once but otherwise pretended like he was not even there.

"People, you can never change the way they feel.
Better let them do just what they will, for they will."
 -George Michael, "Kissing a Fool"

It's not just in socializing or dating, or in attempting to do so. The world as a whole seems to be filled with rejections of one kind or another. Applying for jobs, for example.

So, the Angry White Loner poses the question: How do you deal with rejection?

Do you go out to a secluded spot and punch-dance until you can't punch-dance anymore, like Kevin Bacon in Footloose or Andy Samberg in Hot Rod? Do you kick the neighbor's cat? (Any cat will do, really.) Do you scream out all of your frustrations into a paper bag?

Is there even a healthy way to deal with it at all? Do you eventually reach the point at which you give up on trying to accomplish some things altogether?

I'm interested in finding out, 'cause I don't know. I really don't. I'm looking for ideas.

*Long pause*

*Crickets*

There is comfort in knowing, for example, that a day will come "when disappointment, grief, and fear are gone" (Hymn no. 124).

Until then, however, I'm trying to figure things out for myself, one closed mind, heart, and door at a time.

An Angry White New Year's Eve

There's no fanfare or public relations work to do tonight. I'm not gonna even post a link to this one on Facebook. It may even be deleted by morning if I care enough to take a second look. I'm tired of defending myself against the world anyway and of having to answer all of the smart alecky devil's advocates, many of who should really know better anyway. I don't need to be the one to tell them.

Sometimes, you just need to get it out of your system.

If the Angry White Loner were truly angry and a loner, he might lament the fact that it's New Year's Eve. Again. There are parties to attend, but at this point, they feel only like an obligation. One is a Church dance for single adults of the younger set, from whom the AWL has been cast out as a leper and unclean, while another is for the old set, who have been assimilated by the Borg, and, I daresay, there are very few who have met each other more than once in a year's time. The third option is the marrieds party, which, you might guess, is for the married friends.

The AWL would just be a third wheel. Or fifth wheel. He forgets which one it's supposed to be. But you get the picture.

He also set a new personal "best," if you can call it that, this month, batting .000 in the dating department. That's 0-for-9. He tried to get a date nine times and was told no, thanks, nine times. One of the girls he asked out four times, four weeks in a row, before she finally remembered that she had a boyfriend. Or she made one up. Same effect, either way.

He tells himself to brush himself off and keep trying, but rejection still hurts. If you care even a little bit, it has to. Nothing risked, nothing gained. All of those slammed doors on the mission pale in comparison.

Not that he is bitter. Haha!

Ergo, he's in a room full of people, yet all alone at the same time. It's not from a lack of trying, he reminded himself more than once tonight. That one thought is a small consolation. The only consolation. There is that cute girl who wants to get to know him better on the online dating site, but she lives in Alaska. Nope, nobody in the immediate, 1,000-mile radius tonight.

Nobody cares. They go through the motions of caring, but they don't. None of the ones he cares for and wants to care for him in the same way, at any rate. That's the Catch-22 of it all. They all say they want a sense of humor and kindness and all of that gooey stuff, and end up picking the jerks anyway. Or, they pick no one. 'Cause there's only one Captain Moroni, and it certainly ain't you.

There are men out there on death row, for crying out loud, who have women madly in love with them. Convicted murderers, rapists, kidnappers, spousal abusers, child molesters, etc. Yes, the AWL is aware he has brought up this tidbit before. It never helps nor changes anything. But it still bothers him.

Another thing that bothers him: Angry White Close Relative and he had a conversation today. AWCR brought up the word that has crossed his mind several times before on sleepless nights but that no one has mentioned to him face to face until today: alone. That death knell of words. That's how you're going to end up, it was strongly implied. Maybe it was said right out loud. He doesn't really remember because he was stunned to hear it said out loud at long last. Either way, the message got across.

You had someone who cared about you not long ago, AWCR reminds him. She made you quite happy, didn't she? He can't believe he's doing it, but he cites Jane Austen.

"'Quite happy' is not enough. 'Quite happy' is not the ending I want to write for my story."

One in 500, he calculated not long ago. That's how many out there are still trying. Out of 30,000 people in this county alone, 29,000 seem to have given up. Completely. Either that, or they're hiding under some very large rocks out there somewhere. They fill up their lives with books and movies and Farmville and the badge of busyness and a thousand other things except for the most important thing they could be doing. As far as caring goes, they have declared themselves immune, exempt, and forfeit. He recognizes he feels passive-aggressive about it all, and though it's often been his defense mechanism, it's something he knows needs to work on in 2014. But he still notices it.

This is why people hate the holidays. This is why they get S.A.D. during this time of year.

Well, at least there's 101 Dalmatians on Netflix to keep him company. And that will have to be enough for tonight. Not the animated one; the live action one, with Dr. House and Mr. Weasley as the henchmen.

Yep, that's what the Angry White Loner would write only if he were truly angry and a loner. Which he clearly isn't.

Not in the least.

. . . Wait, the Lakers lost tonight?! And Disney's Robin Hood is on Netflix, too?! This day just got 10,000 percent better.

What's Wrong with Me?

A couple of years ago, a very distressed friend called me up on the phone and told me that he needed a friend he could talk to. Naturally, I told him that I had the time available for that, and he said that he'd come over within a few minutes.

When he arrived, he sat down in a chair, let out a deep sigh, and asked me one question: "What's wrong with me?"

Talk about your loaded questions!

No, seriously, he went on to explain that a girl he had been dating had just broken up with him, in spite of all of his efforts to make their relationship work. After analyzing things in his mind, that was the conclusion he had come to - that there must be something "wrong" with him that made her not like him back the way he hoped she would. I honestly do not remember how I answered my friend's question, but I do remember that we had a good discussion about dating and women - you know, two of the greatest mysteries of the universe.


I've thought of that experience a number of times since and whenever I've had to face a breakup of my own. My friend asked me a question that, I'm sure, many of us have asked ourselves after being rejected by someone. I don't think there are any easy answers to it - if there is even a good answer at all. "The heart wants what it wants," as the saying goes, and sometimes the heart wants really odd things or things that aren't good for it in the long run. The heart can plumb loco at times.

John Bytheway gave an excellent talk on CD, one that I refer to often when it comes to matters of the opposite sex and dating, in which he discussed the issue of likability. He said that an audience member from one of his firesides came up to him once and asked the question, "How do I make people like me?" The answer, he said, is that you honestly can't make people like you. There's that whole free agency thing, you know, that we all fought for in the preexistence, after all. Nevertheless, though we can't make others like us, what we can do is make ourselves likable. And there's plenty of good advice given in the scriptures on that subject, given in the form of possessing such qualities as kindness, charity, love unfeigned, humility, patience, etc.

In retrospect, another answer I might give my friend would not be an answer to his question at all but to ask a different question in its place: "What's wrong with this girl that she doesn't like my friend and see what a great person he is?"

Whatever the appropriate question(s)/answer(s) may turn out to be, I believe that self-improvement - i.e. making ourselves likable - is always a good idea. It's also a good idea not to give up trying to find that someone who will like us, warts and all - or there is the potential that opportunities will be missed. (Believe me, I know many people of my same age and in my same situation who, for all intents and purposes, have given up completely or at least appear to have done so.) When we find that someone, the rejections and the disappointments will fade into obscurity, while the "likability" can grow into love and other, greater things. If we do the very best we can, we have the promise that it can last for quite a long, long time, to boot.

Well, that's how I see it. Unless movies and TV have lied to me, it will also come with a swelling of music and a sparkly vampire with bad hair and makeup and little-to-no acting skills.