Thoughts on Problems

“There’s no problem that can’t be solved. There’s only people who won’t work on problem solving.”
-My neighbor.

Everyone has problems. The whole world is full of problems. Wars, catastrophes, tragedies, disease of the mind and body, etc. are all problems waiting to be solved. Art school trained me to deconstruct the world in terms of Producers and Consumers. There were the people who materialized creative expression, and those who went to the store to buy creative expression. The position played in the role of Producer and Consumer was relative to who’s buying what, when and how, however when you think you’re on the producing side, you form a sort of elitist mentality which separates you from the other side of the dichotomy. But I am no longer in Art school. And the roles of Producer and Consumer no longer make sense in the context of my life. I no longer need to justify what I like to do by alienating those I’m creating for.

And so, today I have a better dichotomy to think in terms of: Those who solve problems, and those who do not desire to problem solve. Art is a problem. Life is a problem. Marriage is a problem. There are problems all around us all of the time. The conscious and unconscious decisions we make daily are problems the brain contemplates and solves.

All problems are solvable. Some can be solved quickly, in the blink of an eye even. In fact, the act of blinking is the body’s way of problem solving which helps nourish and protect the eye. Easy problems like, “should I cross the road?” or “where can I use the bathroom” are questions that don’t even seem like problems to us, but they are.But then there are some problems that require time and patience, hard work, caring, forgiveness, love and nurture. These are the problems that feel most rewarding when solved. To cure a disease like AIDS, to land a human on the moon, to paint “the last supper”, to grasp meaning and fulfillment out of life, are all ways to obtain a feeling of completion and success. Human brains are equipped with a reward system, which acts as chemical doggy treats for the mind. When we accomplish something, when we problem solve, when we fulfill the mind’s cravings and desires, dopamine is released inside our synapses and we continue to progress as a problem solver.

Problems are not human specific. They occur in every level of species, in every element on this Planet. (I can’t say for sure if problems exist outside of our world because maybe the universe has no problems. Maybe things are the way they are, and the way they should be outside of Earth.) But live beings, in fact, problem solve. A beaver makes a damn in a creek, a monkey uses a stick to help eat bugs, and human builds an elevator to travel hundreds of feet off the ground. Problem solving is a beautiful thing.
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I’m really bored with this stupid writing. Sorry. I’m going to stop burping this crap out of my brain. This was just a way to help me cope with the day. I packed a lot of things today at the apartment. I threw out my desk and a few other bits of furniture. I still shake from time to time. My neighbor saw me moving the desk so he decided to take it. He then asked where I was going. I told him that Mindy wanted to be alone, that I had to leave. He suggested I seek the help of a spiritual healer and I was immediately turned off by the conversation. He also suggested that there probably was another person behind her wanting to leave me. I wanted to punch him in the face for saying this. But I did appreciate his thoughts on problems and how people cannot solve problems if they aren’t interested in talking. Wars are fought, people hate each other for a bit of time, and if the politicians didn’t sit around a table to discuss a truce, the war would never end. I don’t know how this really relates to Mindy and I. I just wish she weren’t so convinced about us not working this out. Even though she says things like “I’ll find you later” and “we’ll still be friends”, I just have a self-loathing feeling that it’s over, done, never to be again. I feel so saddened by this feeling. My heart feels like mush; I guess that’s a good thing because it can’t break anymore. The shards of my broken heart are no longer sharp. My heart is a puss filled goo glob.