What's Your Silent Complaint?


I meet a lot of different people from all flights of life. And my silent complaint is most people can't have a conversation that is deeper than "What do you do?" We're so afraid of offending people that delving deeper into something of more substance is seen as invasive.

For the Fourth, I had taken BART, a rail transit system, to meet a group of people in San Francisco for dinner and fireworks. I stepped into the air-conditioned rail car and sat down. Through an adjoining door of another car, a young black man entered from the far end, surveyed all of the empty seats, and sat down next to a blonde woman. She was a little miffed because she had to move her stuff off the seat next to her to make room for him.


The black man smiled and said, "I was just joking. I wanted to see your reaction." They both had a good laugh. She was still a little miffed, though.

Respecting her space, he moved over to the seat in front of me, and like a Godsend, we started talking about real shit. He struggled with his own place in life in comparison to what others perceived, who'd told him how together he was. And he didn't believe that. 

So I asked a simple question, "Do their opinions of you really matter?"

"Fuck yeah!"


"If they called you stupid, does that mean you're stupid?"

He diverted the question by stating that we as individuals have to examine the projectiles that we send out versus what others send out. Because if they match, then we are living our truth. I assumed projectiles were the views and opinions we hold for everyone including ourselves. Still, he hadn't answered my question.

I countered, "Once you start comparing yourself to anything, including where you think you should be, and adhere yourself only to your goals, you're in danger of never being content with what you have." He agreed. "So why do you think anyone does anything?"

I don't remember what his response was because he tended to ramble on for long periods. 

I told him most people do things because they're in search for true happiness. But happiness is born innate within humans. 

Look at babies. They are a happy little people. And they have nothing in terms of materialistic wealth and status. 

That doesn't mean we shouldn't do things for the sake of doing things. I write simply because that's what I do at this moment. My novel is an avenue for me to express my deepest self without declaring that I'm writing a memoir. Later, I'll drink water because I'm thirsty. 

But most of our pursuits like jobs, money, love will somehow complete us, make us whole, bring happiness, bring a sense of satisfaction through ego or status. And what all humans realize after acquiring those things, if they don't lie to themselves, is they're still unhappy because they expect happiness from things.


I had bought what I'd like to call my midlife crisis caR. When people talk about soul mates, they talk about lovers. People with intuitive depth will know that soul mates can be different things such as pets, friends, places to live (Hawaii!). This caR is my soul mate. I love driving this caR. This caR was specifically engineered for the track and has become of a legend in its own right. My caR isn't the fastest, not the flashiest, and because of its age, most young auto enthusiasts won't know what it is when I take my caR out. But I feel very connected to my caR, engaged. Maybe had I bought my other favorite car, the Nissan GT-R, I'd feel more manly, but rarely do I succumb to my own ego.

I've had this caR for a year now and only about five people know about it. I don't show it off because of some asinine duty to humility. I just don't care to talk about it unless it's with a person who understands my love for this caR. It's like having sex. I don't go around telling people I had sex for the sake of fulfilling my manliness. And I'm not a prude, meaning I'm very open when it comes to sex. Sex is something I enjoy with another person, and because of that, remains between us.


In terms of my caR, simply put, I love driving it, feeling the race attributes the engineers had built into it, and the connectedness when I'm in the driver seat. Will it make me happy? No. That's not the purpose of things, money, or love. Happiness, as my new found friend doesn't yet truly understand is already within us all.

Now comes my silent complaint. A group of us, ten peeps, met at the restaurant, and we began to play a game. Everyone received a piece of paper. We were to write down two truths about ourselves and one lie. Mine were:

I used to be an actor

I used to life coach children

I've dated a man

Everyone laughed and couldn't get their minds off the last sentence, which was the purpose. When it came time to choose which one was the lie, most chose either of the first two options, which was funny. Do I give off a gay vibe?


What I found interesting was no one asked me about being an actor and no one asked about life coaching children, one of the things I'm most proud of. This was strange given that half of the people at the table were women. This may sound narcissistic, but if someone revealed an interesting fact about themselves, I'd want to know more about it. I mean, the whole purpose of this game was to spark conversation and get to know each other better.

Oh well...