Category Archives: Insignificance

Muse

Whoa nelly, stop the presses. This is a bunch of writing in a small frame of time, especially for my present-self. It’s because I’m trying to flex those muscles again, get them pumped. I keep coming back here with massive intentions, with my muse screaming at me to get something down while the feeling of wanting to create is fresh on my mind. It really is strange to think of some muse, but it’s there. There are times I couldn’t force myself to write the smallest tid-bit of stupid, but that feeling creeps in, and everything I write out is pure gold. I come here though, so there’s little self-editing, and zero research, making it beyond easy to sit down and hammer out some non-sense.

What do you dictate of me, oh muse? Bring something out of the inky-black depths of my sub-conscious? Perhaps reflect on something of great importance I hadn’t considered until this moment? Or maybe just vomit all over the keyboard and get it out with all of the concern laid on catharsis and none on editing?

It’s weird because the pull is very real, that pull to write. I’ve been too tired and exhausted recently to do anything, but now here I am, hammering it out. There is no immediate need, no immediate idea, just a need to type something out. Tonight, this is what I will get from my muse. There’s excitement though, because I feel there is so much to type about, so much to write and put into words. I know it’s all about beer, too. That is what I am going to write about, that is what i will draw inspiration and joy out of.

I know this is what  my muse (and gumption) will start pointing towards. My work and passion are starting to come out of the woodwork and fuse together into something I can tame and master.

Or maybe not. Maybe I just need to be able to unleash them and deal with the consequences later. Really, if I could predict my muse, I’d be rich.

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.

Positive Force

Editor’s note: I totally started this one months ago, and just came back with a gusto to write something. Glad I gave myself the opportunity to polish this turd, it was pretty ranty before. Now it’s been gussied up and is just mildly ranty.

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Here I sit, existing and typing. Existing in a life that I might as well think of as my choosing. Why not? All I can do is exert some action, and let it run. Newton’s second law of thermodynamics tells me that this energy is going to push something somewhere and add to entropy.

On this entropic quest, I am what I am. The more I try and break it down into something that I have control over, the less I’m in control. I stare at this paradox and swing from end to end, trying to determine something subjectively good out of it. Good for me, of course. What else would make it good?

I look around me and all I see is ego. It isn’t really that much of a surprise though, why shouldn’t there be? What else is there to do but express your preference to an indifferent universe? It only makes sense to have a preference, something you would prefer to do given the multitude of choices. So the question is, how to frame said preferences if apathy lies at the root of it all.

I impose importance to the things that I choose, and then….stupid. It doesn’t matter how much I try and self-deprecate, or self-glorify, it all smacks of stupid if I sit here and pick it apart. I guess I’m looking for something right in the middle between awareness and its implications. I’m absolutely sure I can’t put it into words, but here we go.

In the end, ego rules the day. It’s the force I feel I rail against more than any other idea in my life. That idea of self-importance really just gets to me. As a conscious being , the logical next step in any situation is to think of myself as important. It’s just as easy to pull back and look from a distance though, gazing from a detached perspective. Detached-me really has it figured out, riding a wave of zen out to destinations unknown, and loving it. In the meantime,  real-me sits and grapples with trivial things and remains relevant due to the immediacy of its nature. Everything always seems so important with a view from the top.

Despite this immense privilege, I feel it around me, what I perceive to be negative energy. I swim through it dealing in the way I feel is positive. No real reason,  just because. It’s very self-serving and a fine demonstration of delusional thinking to outside observers. It’s just too easy to think without being aware of every angle of that thought, leaving so many gaps and blind spots. Typing it out is one step, at least I don’t have to worry about the thought police (cue the ominous music)…or do I? Nope, probably have to worry if it’s just existential bullshit.

That inherent bullshit just screams at me though, I have no idea why I don’t completely submit and embrace the cynical bastard I am. I have every resource at my disposal to do so. It comes back to the laziness idea, in the end it’s just too much work. Change is exhausting and hard, and my infinitely complex and multi-faceted self reels at the possible outcomes.

Something about my being won’t let the idea (and the feeling, more importantly) of empathy go. Just thinking about it now, it makes total sense. Somehow, my ego feeds my empathy. It seems completely counter-intuitive, but it rings true when I type it. I take all my self-importance, and temper it with a healthy dose of laziness. Apparently, I have decided whatever I’m doing now is the easiest thing to do.

Until more information crops of, of course. Then one more arm can be added to the fractal, and I can continue down the spiral with greater efficiency.

Cheers, you cynical bastard.

Spaceman Spiff

The title says so much for me. It’s a starting point, not an afterthought.

I recently moved back in with my parents, and upon digging through piles of my incoming stuff and stuff I left when I moved out, I found piles of Calvin and Hobbes. It made me happier than I thought it would, as it has really turned into something worth revisiting since I dedicated myself to it back when I was 12.

The dry humor, the verbosity, the philosophical bent, the illustrations that are a world unto themselves. All of it brings me back to my childhood, and then right back to my (child-inspired) adulthood,  a simple comic melding the two into something new. Bringing up ideas that made sense to me then, and makes even more sense now. I believe this has something to do with wisdom, but I’m not going to commit to an idea like that.

Beyond the simple metaphor of comic strips though, so much is going on. It’s strange to think that one of  the northwest’s most violent strings of time coincides with your seeming growth, but there it is, coincidence at the ready to be folded into the narcissistic and selfish ideas of yourself.  Why else would they exist?

I just feel myself letting go. Ready for change, ready to be a master of my destiny and scream off into the cosmos as Spaceman Spiff in a little red ship. A hero of my own design, existing in a world I have no control over. Fate, fortune, and a willingness to show up all melding into something I want, something where I don’t even care that I’m fooling myself into thinking I have a modicum of control.

All I see now is my dreams on the horizon, ready to be fulfilled. Patiently waiting for me to catch up, with full awareness that it was an inevitability. It doesn’t even matter how much delusion these ideas contain, because it is beyond delusion now. It is full-blown acceptance, striving to hit light-speed. My life is malleable, my terms are malleable, but my soul is not. It will achieve its goals by any means necessary, yet prove it can be done while still adhering to the golden rule. It will be fully-aware, but knowing when it needs to turn a blind-eye. It will be a testament to the heights of humanity, knowing just how chock-full of hypocrisy it is.

It will be a paradox. But it will be mine.

Jenny

After what has probably been a couple years too long, the family dog Jenny has finally passed on.  I am sad, but also kind of relieved. It was long coming, and for the past year there were glimmers of the dog she once was, but not being able to hear, see, or have any idea of what was going on made it difficult to see her as the dog i grew up with.

What really bugs me now though is that i come here to memorialize my dog, but i never really did with my grandma. actually i did do that, briefly. i didn’t post it though, just printed it out and put it somewhere. I guess there are limits to what i will post.

but really, i’m not here to memorialize, probably more to reflect. and direct it to myself and revel in narcissism, because that’s really what the blog is about. it’s not the prettiest way to go about it, but i imagine it gets me somewhere eventually.

this is the same situation as with Grandma though. I have to come to grips with the death that is occurred, but both were almost blessings. by the time they both passed on, they were shells of their former selves, a ghost of what i had grown up with. i will still miss them dearly, but i was glad that they didn’t have to suffer anymore.

as time marches on, these are the only real signposts i have to go back to. i only wish it didn’t take such extenuating circumstances to make them memorable.

what difference does it make though, if it makes me remember. picking her up from some house way out past carnation not soon after my first dog died.  her being the only puppy that ran away but still licked my face when i picked her up, her black lab mom Oprah tied up to the porch barking.  running around the yard growing up, with her always right behind, just wanting to have fun and be where you were. hiding in the bathtub whenever thunderstorms occurred or it was near the 4th of July. her sleeping on the ground of my room no matter what age i was. frustration with her as i would let her outside to go to the bathroom and she would bolt into the dark woods barking at something, forcing me to chase her out there with a flashlight. the countless times jogging around the tuscany trail, her leading the way for about 5 minutes before getting too sidetracked and tired to keep up and having to wait for her to make sure she didn’t get lost. coming back home for holidays after i had moved out, her always hanging out in front of the garage happily greeting and looking like I had never left. even when she could barely get up to say hi, she still would make it happen,  her demeanor still filled with the sweetness that made her one of the best dogs ever.

it just makes me sit and reflect that i have all these moments. all of these memories i pick up along the way and can look back upon and feel happiness at the nostalgia, sadness at the loss, while everything else just keeps moving forward. with joy eventually must come sadness. but the more i boil it down, the less meaning i find to attach to it. all that matters are all those moments spent together, and that i remember them.

Off the Grid

This weekend, i have this whole itinerary where I’m biking from work to my parent’s house to a beer fest, and then back to my parents house, because i wanted to do a little training for the STP and this is a practical way to go about it. save a little gas money in the meantime, as well.

I totally forgot my phone at home today,and won’t be getting it back until sometime late tomorrow. It’s kind of liberating. People are going to try and get ahold of me and think I’m a total jerk for not getting back to them immediately. More likely, no one is actually going to try and get ahold of me, as everyone leads busy weekends in the summer.

I kinda love doing shit like this though. It’s not like i can’t come to the internet, or have access to phones in other places i go. It’s just inconvenient enough to get ahold of me now. the ball’s in my court now, i will be getting a hold of YOU when i damn well feel like it.

what a time we live in! i have expectations of instant gratification in every aspect of my life. it’s nice to pull back from that for a moment or two, and realize just how silly it is sometimes. what’s not important will soon become not-important again, and life will carry on.

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?

Art

Again, i apologize for the last post, sort of. sometimes documentation is more important than content. on that note, let’s get started!

so here’s the counter-point, ideas running fresh and anew, somewhat un-ironically. apparently, i need outside influence to get out of idea-ruts. this version came in the form of  a documentary (mockumentary?) of epic proportions called Exit through the Gift Shop, done by infamous anonymous street artist Banksy. This film does an amazing job of blurring the line between fiction and reality these days, reminding you how much you have to hone your ability to question reality and what is presented to you. or just reality and what aspects of it you choose to believe. that’s the highfalutin vision of it, but you could just as easily look at it as the highbuffoonery it is.

in this regard, it really shows art for what it is, reflection of society be dammed. you watch shit like this and see just how important, and unimportant it is. how much you, as the viewer adds to the final piece. the creation of something this deliberate and high-concept is nothing short of amazing. yet the fact that i consider it as “high-concept” is already talking out my ass and out of my depth.

here’s the thing. for a moment in my life, Banksy made me care about an idea. as brief and limited as that moment was, it happened. it hit me hard enough to try and respond, to react. damn you, artists. is this your purpose?

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’.

Surreal

So I’ve been avoiding posting for awhile, despite the heavy need to do so. There’s alot going on right now, and I just haven’t felt the need to sort it out yet. If i don’t force myself to, then I probably won’t, so here we are.

Here’s the seed that got me here: Over-hearing a conversation, with this comment being the point I jumped in:

“Why is it that these things are discovered after i’ve done all this work?”

Immediately the response that struck me was “Becuase of your narcissism and self-involvement. You notice these things because they affect you directly.”

That would have been really mean and uncalled for though. It also would have been over-simplification on my part. But the statement doesn’t ring  untrue to me, although it may be an oversimplification.Part of that idea still resides in that statement. Many things we say about ourselves contain that nugget of narcissism. How can it not? So what is this seed i wish to define? Anger, of course. Directed at myself and others due to circumstances outside of my control. you narcissistic asshole.

This is more accurately described as a rhizome cut off of a root system that is already there and is crying out for water. This week has been tough, yesterday especially. You don’t see the saddest sight of your life everyday.

Here’s something my uncle read at my grandmother’s funeral. It’s called Plan For Life, by Mother Teresa. I know i have heard this piece before, but sometimes, you’re more ready to listen.

people are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered.
forgive them anyway.

if you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
be kind anyway.

if you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies.
succeed anyway.

if you are honest and frank, people may cheat you.
be honest and frank anyway.

what you spend years building, someone may destroy overnight.
build anyway.

if you find serenity and happiness, people may be jealous.
be happy anyway.

the good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow.
do good anyway.

give the world the best you have, and it may never be good enough.
but give the world the best you’ve got anyway.

you see, in the final analysis, it is all between you and god;
it was never between you and them anyway.

To me, most of the quote is good, but almost overly-earnest in prose, and almost redundant. But the last line is big. God or not, it was never between you and them anyways. it was never between you and them anyways. jesus, what a line. you and yourself…and love in-between. it’s all there waiting for you, if you can tolerate yourself.

then your friend has a near death experience and you are just beside yourself  with surrealism now.  You wonder what you can type as a holder of information without maybe over-stepping your bounds, but then it’s all over face book. And yet you are the person concerned with yourself  so deeply, the one you referred to after overhearing a conversation. Think of how this effects you, and then try and empathize, right? why else would you try and understand yourself so well if not to empathize with others? this narcissism runs so very, very thick.

With some reflection though, all that seems to be done is empathize, as much as you can muster. Everything seems bad, but it’s not as bad as it could be. For that, you are thankful. It could always be worse. You could be completely alone with yourself in this environment. But you don’t have to, your world is populated by those you care about. You narcissistic asshole. Navel-gaze some more, get the self-hatred out of your system, and then carry on. do something you can be proud of, be someone that you admire, live awesomely.

it sounds good when you say it like that. then the awful truth comes through. let’s do this anecdotally. it takes you three weeks to write this. a tidal wave of  ideas regarding mortality left you stunned, and you backed off, telling yourself you needed time to let it sit. but between you and yourself, you were hiding. what was it that brought you back here again?

you went to an excellent Christmas work party which overflowed with joy and touches of nostalgia. after hours of decadent eating and drinking, out of nowhere you won an ipad by the plucking of your name from a santa hat, by your beautiful wife. despite being ridiculously lucky and blessed all-around, you’re a little miffed that you have to install itunes on your computer, just to use it. this is the life you retreat to. these are the problems you deal with. this is your life, for better or worse.

so what? you can at least come here to scream about what made for such a great night tonight, just talk about it, point to it and show that it existed, give it some words.  breath some life into it, if only for you. the thing about death is it happens. the thing about life is it happens.

be awesome in the meantime, i guess.