Category Archives: Wonder

Victory

It’s been awhile, but I always feel bad coming here in this state. Half-asleep, pants-undone, and beanie-wearing. They’re all me, but they’re the points I’d rather not use as perspective. Everytime I think I’m beyond this, the muse strikes, in the usual way. I’m just gonna type and something’s going to come out. Humble-Brag, amirite?

I have always lived a charmed, first-world life, but i’ve never seen it like this before. Getting kinda choked up on watching a condensed forty years of SNL and seeing what a child of television I was. Back when I used to sneak in late night television before I even knew what that meant. Back when network television was everything. Back when I lived in the utter bliss of complete ignorance. Yup, pretty easy for privilege to make connections.

Because really, how could any of this be my fault? It wasn’t on me back then to be self-aware, only to be. Be what was expected of me. That really puts a gash in my zen armor of later self-awareness. If I can be based on other’s principle’s, how is that set apart from my own? How am I in control? And how did I tend to that gash in the armor?

In a sense, dissociation. I am not in control, I am not principled, and there is no gash in the armor. Because I say so. Easy, yet depressing to rationalize.

And yet a dear friend of mine escaped to my bar because of his group discussing the ideas between ambition vs. mortality. I have no idea the motives, because I didn’t ask. I give a “helluva topic” spiel, then peace out. I look inside and know I am stuck in my ways because of what I can only assume is my age and perceived wisdom. I feel like I can’t add anything because ideas like these have always been met in a personal experience for me, be it a book, self-reflection, or a completely unrelated conversation. Never from active arguing, though that has a place too.

For me, there is no victory in this (and most any) discussion, only sides. Which is a tenant of victory. When there are sides, there must be a victor and loser, lest the sides not really exist. And then the logic gets real circular from there. My inner voice yells at me that when you take ideas like these before considering objectivity and subjectivity, you put the cart before the horse. Even then, it’s not the precursor. You can ask “why?” like a two year old until being told “because”, no matter the idea. Or you can fight and force meaning on things, and claim victory.

I just don’t care about victory, though I’m not too keen on defeat, either. Both happen to me on micro and macro levels all the time though, and I grow as a person. It’s nice though. It’s nice that life tends towards victory in that manner.

 

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.

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.

——————————————————————————————————————————————–

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.

Still Existing

Ya know, I was suddenly struck to come here for no reason at all. Mostly because I haven’t posted anything in months. mostly because I’m bored.

Ideas are still around, and just in these few sentences, I’m realizing how soothing it is to basically type free-form thoughts straight from my head as opposed to an article i try and craft and have to re-read and edit a couple times. and extreme run-on sentences, i love those. it’s freeing to just use my writing voice, and feeling that it doesn’t need to go anywhere, say anything.

that’s been missing for months. just the idea that no idea can stack up to the importance i try and place on it. breathing a little, laughing, and throwing out a few cliches. as a writer of blogs, it’s what i do best.

it boils down to just doing things occasionally, flexing the muscles you think have atrophied, only to realize you’re an idiot and you do things because of obligations self-imposed or otherwise.

just because it’s inconsequential doesn’t mean it isn’t necessary. sometimes, you just come to grips with things because it seems like more work to pick it apart into its pieces than to just go with it. sometimes, the components are everything. sometimes, they don’t matter.

everytime, it really just depends on how i’m feeling that day.

Dimensions

Is anyone else as excited as i am about the possibility of neutrinos going faster than the speed of light? I really hope that it can be reproduced and isn’t just a fluke, which it very well could be. These things happen when dealing with sub-atomic particles.

But really, what kind of universe do we live in where something so  supposedly inflexible as the speed of light can be shown to be flexible? How many possible dimensions are out there?

Questions begetting more questions, off to infinity.

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?

Stevie Wonder

How do i get this far in my life and not get exposed to certain things?

I got my hands on Songs in the Key of Life and listened to it while i was helping heather with some crafty-work. I couldn’t believe it, i just couldn’t. All i ever hear is reverence for Stevie, but i’ve really only heard a few of his singles like “I just called to say I love you” and “Isn’t she lovely”. I pounded this album and wanted more, it was mind blowing. The way this album listens, it almost sounds like a greatest hits compilation. I also had no idea that Coolio straight jacked everything but the lyrics to Gangsta’s paradise from Stevie. This album contains everything i love about music.

Which brings me back to the original question i posed at the beginning of this post, and the answer is obvious. It’s because discovering things like this and appreciating it on your terms is what makes your life wonderful. Finding culture, new or old, and realizing something you hadn’t before. The timing behind finding something and integrating it just has to happen naturally, but that drive to find things and stay open is the part that takes work.

You stay open because the reward can be something shining like this, something beyond anything you ever expected.

Of course being that open inevitably leads to posts like the previous one.

It’s worth it though, it’s so worth it. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. It wouldn’t be worth the bother.

Macklemore

Ridiculous.

Seriously, filthy and ridiculous. Heather and i went to see Macklemore perform to a sold out showbox, and it was one of the most melancholy shows i have ever seen. totally not due to macklemore though, it was all on me. He rocked it harder than i had ever seen him do.

But two songs in, i felt the melancholy. This is his big sold-out Seattle tour before he goes on his nationwide one, and the crowd energy waiting to see him off was thick in the air.  The opening acts had the luxurious luxury of a die-hard crowd waiting for Seattle music. All the opening acts rocked, and got a willing and able crowd. Then Mack came out and killed it like he always does. It felt different this time though. Like i was saying goodbye.

Not to get too sentimental, but i felt happy with such a touch of sadness. I got really cheesy and was trying to remember a Shawshank Redemption quote i knew fit so perfectly. I’m just going to type what i came up with as opposed to googling it because it’s the feeling, not the exact words. they go: “some caged birds are so beautiful, they make your world feel that much less bright when they leave, but you knew it was a sin to keep them in the first place”  it feels wildly inappropriate on reflection now, but the general idea is there. There was an element of farewell.

Just a mere 3 years ago, I saw macklemore flyering the hell out of a show he had coming up in a couple weeks, right at the neumos exit, after killing it as the most prominent opening act there that night. probably a year later, I went to Nectar on the Vs. album release and paid a $20 “suggested donation” (a term i am highly fond of) for the album he and this dude Ryan Lewis were putting out, because i loved what they were doing. Meeting and getting to talk to him at the various events of his we’ve been to, and seeing what a cool guy he is.

it’s been growing and has ended up at this big triple sell-out in seattle before hitting the road. seeing him put his usual A game and realizing he was going to be showcasing it for the rest of the nation gave me a little NW pride. Actually seeing the beginning and being there  for what i considered a culminlation was a little over-whelming for my sappy self.

as effusive as this seems though, my admiration pales in comparison to hers, my wife. he’s her “hip-hop husband”.

can’t blame her.