Category Archives: Chus

Have Nots

To be perfectly honest, I view myself as a have. I have every possible thing I could ever want or need at my fingertips. Sacrifice consists of having my wife dropping me off at work because my car’s busted. Or moving in with my parents because we can’t afford to live in the city. Or not being to be able to fit in breakfast before a long work day because I decided to sleep in a little.

There’s a multitude of other first-world problems I could throw in here, but it would end up sounding as preachy as it already does. This is my luxury though, my time for reflection. I can always bring down the sledge hammer of perspective with off-the-cuff statements like “I wonder how many people died of starvation in Africa today” or ” I wonder how much suffering occurs around the globe due to America”. A bunch of other high-horse-jaded-yet-privileged things pop into my mind, but just feel cliched beyond anything I can possibly come to terms with.

I can keep going in this loop, this endless cycle, but I feel I can at least throw a few of these cliches out there. At the very least I can look back on writing like this with shame and awe of how out of touch I was and still very well could be. Gotta keep an open mind, right? I just feel so out of touch with writing like this, because I can sit back and re-read it and already see the inherent hypocrisy, the conflict of ideas. It might be because I can’t structure an argument properly, but there’s the reason I come here. Hash it out and try and make a modicum of sense. Structure takes thought.

It doesn’t take thought though, because I already have everything I need right here. Everything. Yet I project into the future a better future with what I could have by effort expended now, ideas and work applied to this future self. Things could be so much better than they are now, if only I applied myself more. That idea right there is at the heart of a maddening paradox. Do more to achieve more, if you don’t want to achieve less. Or something like that, I sense over-simplification.

Deep down I think that this is all the rantings of an over-privileged straight white male, clearly sitting in the societal elite by default. So in protest  I rail against it and try and earn it, through merit.  I try and establish a yardstick of accomplishment, but end up not really caring about it because it’s only measured against my projected ideas and self. It’s subjective.

I try and have-not as much as I can because I don’t feel I deserve what I have, which is also completely subjective. I only know that for me it’s much easier to tell myself I don’t deserve things, it seems more fitting.

The kicker is that I have it though, and I get to decide with what to do with it.

I take a deep breath, exhale, and quiet the chatter. The best I feel I can do is listen and keep and open mind.

My open mind tells me to live in the present, and be eternally grateful.

Ex

So this is part of my punishment, i suppose. having an idea, a fully-fleshed idea ready to go, and then forgotten. it had something to do with starting with “Ex”. Exaltation, extension, expensive, it doesn’t matter. As important as that idea may have seemed at the time, this one takes it’s place. you forgot a seemingly important idea. despite how important that first one may have been, aren’t you here now because of it? and aren’t you now expressing said idea inferiorly?

good job idiot, this is the life you live. just the thought of leaving this thought unedited leaves you happy. it would be incomprehensible. you’re not that drunk, but typing takes focus, and you’re too mad at yourself to do so properly. the filters you have in place at least take up enough space to keep you from doing this raw.

the conception was a good thought though, and hopefully, you can find your way back to it.

this does not bode well for your ideal self though, typed in words that are socially acceptable. true definitions are not beyond you, but are beyond what you are willing to expose to those who may discover who you are.

it feels like bullshit to type in code, but at the same time, it makes you think. the thought strikes you though: really this is stupid all-around, and anyone hoping to get anything out of this beyond yourself  is getting what they paid for.

now get back to rememberin’. who else is it going to do any good for?

Swirl

This is going to be bad, i can tell already.

It will be recorded, regardless.

The anxiety is killing me. Anxiety over nothing, over everything, over ideas i turn in my head and wonder about. I don’t even know what to think about them, it just feels so worthless. All i do is sit and observe, with occasional creations. When thought feels worthless, i can come here and dole it out. Expressing ideas about the inherent worthlessness they contain. The irony is not lost on me.

They come into my head and get turned around up there, examined. A distraction, an exercise in futility. You keep pulling back and the picture gets smaller, the relevance, less.  Sometimes it’s fun to analyze ideas, and other times it just seems ridiculous. You do it anyways, because there’s not a whole lot else going on.

You get distracted, and you roll with it.  Sometimes they are sought after, sometimes they drop in your lap. Sometimes you are amused, sometimes indifferent. As far as I can tell, it beats the alternative.

So it goes. You can run from yourself, but you can’t hide. Always there in the corner of your mind, pulling strings you can’t even fathom. This sounds worse than it is, really this is some stupid venting. but that was realized at the conception.

so get on with it already. daylight’s a wastin’.

Introvert

The title says it all, one of those have the title before going in pieces. Days like these where all I want to do is live inside my head and have no one bother me. I can barely wrap myself around my brain, and the idea of using words to express this to others is just something I don’t want to do. I can still exist, but I’d rather do so very outwardly silent.

I can come here though. I can listen to others, but am pressed to respond. I can do whatever I want, to a point. I balance the comfort I feel within myself with how it’s projected out to others. As well as I can, anyways. I get the sneaking suspicion I’ve been caught, but what the hell does that mean.

you know what it is.

get back inside your head, and live it up.

Government Booze

Man, i was already so convinced that the initiative to privatize liquor sales was so locked i didn’t even consider it wouldn’t pass. It makes sense when i think about it, considering this state’s nanny-like qualities, but still, i thought this had a chance.

I don’t really give a damn about being able to buy liqour at Safeway for cheaper, or ideals like the government meddling in private affairs. It was going to bust down the three-tier system completely out of state law, and it would have made it so much easier as a brewery for us to distribute our product, whenever it gets to that. There are still much bigger obstacles for us to overcome, but that would have made it easier for us in the long run.

Ah well, it’s not like bottle shops and beer bars have disappeared, there are still plenty of places to get great beer around the city. I mostly make my own these days, anyways.

Condolences to people who enjoy martinis and scotch, though. You still gotta go to the state for your booze needs.

Work it Out

It’s crazy how much work almost becomes a refuge away from your real life. The things you love end up being way more taxing and time-consuming that the ol’ 9 to 5.  I spent both my weekend days doing mostly the crappy work of brewing beer. This entails mostly bottle cleaning and putting said beer in those bottles. As i was skinning my 200th bottle or so, i thought to myself :

“this sucks, but hey, at least I’m only accountable to myself and my own standards.”

it made me smile in the moment, but i almost think it was to fool myself from the drudgery of the work i was doing. work is always gonna be work, no matter what I do to try and get around it. I think that’s what i’ve always though, and why jobs feel so superfluous to me. I can get work done, and after a bit of time of doing the same types of jobs, i can do it super-efficiently. huzzah for you dude.

you know why you work hard and get super efficient though. It’s so you’ll be done with work quicker and you can get around to all those self-enriching, non-destructive things you’d rather be doing than working. Which will bore you eventually if you don’t have a job to get super-efficient at. because being super efficient in your leisure is no way to do it.

that sounds like work.

Digital Pillow

So you are here. You are here to write something, bring it all together. You have taken in alot of information in the past few months, information you need to process, information you think you can digest without discussing, here or elsewhere.

So the typing stops, and the thinking begins. why are you here again? on first impression, it’s because it’s been a month. you enjoy writing, you enjoy reading, yet you do both so infrequently. as you type this, you are watching something kardashian related, and you are alarmed at this. you turn off the TV, even if it is through the lens of kimmel.

the idea is to show up, and the meaning will reveal itself. the words will start pouring out, because as your inner monologue gets rolling, so too will the ideas. the juicy, meaty stuff that you come for here in the first place. Because you can’t help yourself, this is your refuge. the place where ideas get filtered enough to be placed. unfiltered ideas have no place in this world, they can only be misinterpreted. this is the place where thought goes into said unfiltered ideas, and deeper meaning is pulled out via whatever it is you call a writing voice. your writing voice is so very special to you, it’s the reason you return.

somehow, you can type coherently enough to create a dialogue, coherently enough to create a voice. an amazing, eloquent, narcissistic voice you can read over and over, you beautiful bastard. at this point you dismay about what the point is of this, where the hell you can even go with this type of writing. but it doesn’t matter. you are here, you are expressing.

you come here to scream into your digital pillow.

you smile a little, because it’s OK, the digital pillow comparison is so spot-on. nicely done.

And yet, as bitter as you were when you first came here (or self-loathing) in that small period of time, things have changed. you have talked to someone cool. you have had time to think and process. you have had time to dabble in the things you love because you can’t just go on a typing jag without being interrupted, you live in the digital age.  this journal is only a psuedo-journal, because you have to filter yourself, and you can go find any idea (webpage) that flies into your mind,and continue writing at any point later, as difficult as that is.

digital pillow though, that is pure gold.

Creation

most of the time, i ask myself what i’m doing here. that i’m beyond this type of self-reflection, that this only does me marginally good. typing like a narcissistic goon, (not)begging for attention.

but whether i like it or not, i come here and create. creation. creating something out of an apparent nothing. a place where unbridled creation is unleashed,  embracing some creative element. most of the time, i would rather consume stuff, but the bug is there to occasionally create something. write my thoughts down, brew some beer, fix something that’s broken. A creative life versus a consumption life, yet another balancing act to strike. consume too much and you just become a receptacle just loaded with facts and ideas. create too much and you get too focused on creating and getting lost in your own world. neither is a bad thing, but much like everything in this world, too much of anything is no good. thank you 3rd grade, for that nugget of wisdom.

the big thing is the quality level. quality is not inherent to creation or consumption, but it’s a big part. i still haven’t figured out quality though. you can feel it in things you create, see it in things you consume. for all i know, it could be the amount of love that goes into or comes out of these objects when you interact with them. it’s impossible to quantify, it can only be done by feeling, but you know it when you see it. it’s a nice thought, anyways.

i think my big problem these days is that i don’t care if i create anything. i enjoy creation but i don’t try and catalog and store alot of it, and the stuff i do still just doesn’t feel like it has enough importance to try and force others to consume what i create. either through laziness or fear of rejection, i don’t know. mostly i think it’s the apathy that is encountered you make something you think is nice. it is presented and summarily dismissed with a shrug and a “meh”, and life goes on. maybe a “that’s nice”.

but so what? if i create something and a bunch of people think it’s the greatest thing ever, then what? my ego gets a little scratch under it’s chin and a treat for being such a good boy, and i’m back to where i started, chasing the high of creating something people think is important to further satiate my ego. it’s a damn vicious cycle, but it all feels like it if i sit down and start thinking hard enough.

let’s turn this around, though. creation does bring a sense of accomplishment, and i suppose that’s about all i can expect from it. at least i can do tangible things for myself, to make me feel better. as long as i’m not hurting anyone else, i can justify what i do for myself, or people i truly care about. there are  not many things in life worrying yourself over, and a sense of accomplishment is a damn fine distraction.

beer might be something worth screaming about from the hilltops for me, but i’d still rather relax than work, and i think that makes all the difference.

you know it when you see it.

Going Places

Are you going somewhere? How’s it working out for you? I think it’s going pretty OK, no real complaints. I just observe it everywhere. People are doing things this very second, things that are important. A never ending, slow grind of importance.

There’s really no reason not to, but i like to get reflective about it occasionally. viewing the process from the outside, feeling absurd, and then getting right back to it. life still hasn’t stopped since i started reflecting on it, and i figure it’s going to keep heading in that direction.

Information comes in and immediately, my brain just starts going “who cares? i mean, really, who cares?”. the cynical filter turns on and all incoming stimuli has a negative edge to it. it works both ways though, i feel the same damn way about any information i can create. so i come here, try and hash it out, all the while thinking “really, who cares?”.  it’s ridiculous.

Something has to come out of these feelings though, something more than just a cynical, existential rant along the lines of “who cares! you’re gonna die anyways” which is what this line of reasoning normally devolves into. it’s during times like these that i can barely talk to people. most conversation revolves around complaining and i can’t take it. most of the time, i can deal, relate a little. it never hurt anyone to complain a little to shoot the shit. othertimes all i want to say is something along the lines of  “got any solutions?” and that doesn’t go over very well.

so i do what i’ve learned to do, be quiet and just let it pass. i’ll get over myself, and opening my mouth leads to more problems than keeping it shut. is this growth? really, who cares?

there has to be something more to get out of this than resignation, a reason this side of my personality flares up. maybe self-preservation. maybe self-loathing. maybe self-pity. whatever it is, i’m positive it is narcissistic and selfish. i can’t see these feelings supporting any other purpose but to stoke my ego a little bit and tell myself that yes it is all crazy, it’s not just me. but everything is crazy, me included. there are no rational ports in this storm. there is no storm. everything’s just happening, and then it’s happening somehow else.

Yeah, that’s the gist of it. there’s not much to get out of this state, it just has to happen to balance out the other somehows. your brain freaks out because it’s a freaking computer based around chemical signals, and they’re all finding homeostasis based on stimuli. the lack of control is exhilarating.

So it goes. with the context of the word “exhilarating”, it clicks.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.