Category Archives: Rant

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.

Cruise Control

Looks like everything is going just fine. Sailing along very nicely. Nothing but the horizon ahead, with a nearly unlimited view of everything around.

It’s during moments like these that the anxiety sets in. It’s a chronic condition of the life I live. What should I be doing right now that could be more productive, furthering a goal I want to see to completion. Look at everyone else around me, achieving things, why aren’t i more like them? On and on and on, it doesn’t stop. Gotta have some force to push you along though. If i were a little more zen and less into luxury, i could live in my car. Depends on how zen i want to get, i suppose.

If we’re gonna get zen here, this is probably neither the time or the place, but when is it ever? Try and come to terms with keeping my ideas about life and myself evolving, checking it out from different angles, while incorporating myself into it. It’s exhausting work, people.

Anyways, back to my luxury life. I just can’t get over the new Das Racist album, it’s joke rap done almost too well. I listen over and over and keep coming back for more. I wake up in the morning in that half sleep daze turning their verses over in my head, when i just want to sleep. I don’t get it, I feel like this shouldn’t be on such heavy rotation, and yet it is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ndnCkUDQFUE

I love music….gimmie more!

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.

Self-Involved

It’s late, and there may not be the time i would like to put into a post, but i am drawn, i am am beckoned. my mindset is trying to provoke me into some analysis, because when the mind is like this, it is best to strike while the iron is hot. i could easily placate this feeling by switching on the TV, but I can tell it won’t cut it tonight. something needs to be said, and I need to say it. here. uh huh, just get it off your chest already.

it’s nothing in particular though. life is back to its particular grind. it is doing what it normally does, and i try and fit my schedule around it. there is my grandma dying going on right now, but that’s a subject for another post. I don’t know if i’m ready for that one yet.

wow, that just sucked all the wind out of my sails. anything i may have wanted to reflect on just got snuffed. the pettiness of my life gets put in perspective, and isn’t that what you wanted anyways? it’s here and then it isn’t.

and then something happened.

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.