What, exactly, defines a good person?

This is the question that’s been on my mind recently. A question probably sparked last week after watching coverage of the Haiti crisis. The remarkable thing about the natural disaster was how many American lives were thrown into chaos so far from home. Last Friday I posted a link on my Facebook to a page displaying information on how and where people could donate to relief efforts. The further that information spreads, the better. In our advanced society we have the ability to support charities that save lives with a few key presses. I donated $10 via text to the Red Cross in less than a minute. No paperwork. No credit card authorization. It’s just added to my phone bill at the end of the month. I also gave $10 through Paypal to the Save the Children fund.

I have an old high school friend who keeps a blog that I would guess he would argue frequently discusses Christianity. I beg to differ. I think the majority of what he writes about is acceptance. Acceptance through forgiveness. Acceptance through love. Acceptance through open-mindedness. I think he might argue that these are all aspects of Christianity. I would argue that Christianity is an aspect of them. I enjoy arguing with this friend. In the end I think we usually come to the same or similar conclusions. I believe what defines a good person is continued faith that things will work out. I’ve come to learn that accepting the hand we’re dealt is also an important factor. That’s not to say we can’t change or learn from the hand we’re dealt. Quite the opposite.

A long time ago I was a very forgiving person. I was the guy everyone came to with their problems. Today that’s not quite as much the case. When I flunked out of high school there was a period of time before snapping back into reality and getting my life back on track where I was a huge dick. I didn’t see it then but I’ve since come to realize that I was in a pretty fucked up state of mind. No drugs. No alcohol. Just a really pathetic depression. I tricked and lied to my family and closest friends. I didn’t go out much. I stopped playing music. I stopped playing music with some of the best guys I know. I told everyone I knew I was fine. Fooled people I shared a roof with. After years of solidifying relationships I spent two years, starting early my senior year of high school, knocking down the walls. I did it without thinking. I did it subconsciously.

I did not mean to do it. I would not have let myself continue what I was doing had I known it was happening at the time.

I’ve only started apologizing recently, the situation becoming clearer as I distance myself from it through time. Discussing it with family and approaching my friends and explaining it to them individually. It’s a really weird experience to hear their thoughts on it. I realized that I needed to talk to my friends about where I had been mentally after bringing it up to one of them casually one day. After I finished explaining he told me me that our group of friends had literally had points in time where they said things like “I wish Luke was here.” It’s both incredibly uplifting and horribly heartbreaking to hear those words from a friend. I didn’t think I had low self-esteem, but knowing that I had left people hanging so much that they came to that kind of conclusion really put things in perspective for me.

And then, a few weeks after that encounter, I told one of my best friends and he told me he had realized something was up but never really brought it up. He seemed pretty upset about it and I understood his position because I’ve been there before. And no matter how much you tell that person they couldn’t have changed anything and that you’d have just gamed them like everyone else, they still think they should have done something more. But it’s not anyone’s fault. It played out like it did. We have to accept the hand that was dealt. We have to have faith that things will stay better.

Around four years later I am a different person than I was then. I’m rebuilding the bonds I busted. I’m in a much better mindset. I’m the dependable person I was before everything turned to shit and I’m working to show that to those around me without throwing it in their faces.

And I am writing again. I used to think people could be my muse. Then I thought it was conflict. But that’s all bullshit. Life is my muse and too much of any one thing can throw it horribly off balance and make for a terrible script. It takes equal parts faith in the future and accepting the present. Otherwise you’re just an asshole, a joker, a fool, or a crybaby.

This weekend, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, some friends and I are going hit up Motion City Soundtrack’s show at First-Avenue  in Minneapolis. Somehow I tend to get put in charge of organizing and orchestrating these trips, but that’s okay by me. It’s easier for me to shoulder the responsibility. Right now I’m just hoping that the weather doesn’t destroy it, because I could use a get away.

And hey, if you think I should have talked to you about this one-on-one, approach me about it. It’s impacted friendships with pretty much anyone I knew at the time and I don’t mind talking it through. And I apologize ahead of time.