The Afternoon After

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   As if it were yet a turning point . . . But I am trying, still, to change what I represent; both consciously and unconsciously.

   That much being evident I believe I need to bring the focus around. My first order of business is to rise up out of the hole: achieve gainful employment or earn meaningful income otherwise. By meaningful or gainful I mean, at the least, that I can support myself and a little bit more. That's my first goal.

   The future beyond that point is equally clear to me but I'll begin but underscoring the point that what I can do for myself, I will work to pass on ever year - either through perspective, influence, participation or donation.

   Chances are anything I am able to accomplish will not happen alone and my ability to achieve wealth or success on my brand will have more to do with my diligence at work, my capacity to uphold a distinct quality standard, and mostly my ability to work well with others and to inspire them to offer their best with me.

   The vision of the income stream is set to 3 fields: Sound, Writing, and Business Management. More specifically sound recording and design, writing fiction and editorials, and lastly business to the extent of the founding and management of my own non-profit production company, for-profit studio, and the regular production of shorts, features and other modes of storytelling throughout.

   There is enough here to last a lifetime but even this work leads somewhere. My first step however is to become solvent and now that the road has been cleared of some debris (the games on my laptop) I believe the urgency I've denounced for so long will come home to roost.

She's bound on the tracks and getting the hint she can't stay there

I was up all night again playing Diablo III. It was just about 5am when I finally quit my session. I had been playing since roughly 11am the previous day. I had taken a few breaks to eat. I studied a text book for perhaps 20 minutes. My mom is working at Macy's because she's obligated to. My gf was studying her ass of for her PhD. It's not that I'm not in school and a normal job at this point would prove a hindrance. The idea is that with the time I have available I should be pulling ahead of the game and setting down to lay out the tracks for my near future. Instead I was actively putting it off, choosing to be anything but what my truer passions have been stirring me for because of this amazing distraction we call gaming...It is an addiction. I slipped back into it. But with the recent election, because of Obama and the sever nature of the business I claim to be interested in, and my age, I am sorely aware of the fact that I cannot hold onto my youth forever. I matter now. My mind and my limbs are needed and whey they are not available it is felt. It's painful returning to consciousness. And I know that when I finally do sleep today and wake up around 2pm or so, I won't know where to begin to fill the void. I'll be shaken. My library won't do it. It won't attack me. My studies won't stimulate me in that frenzied kinetic way. My dreams will seem more displaced from reality that that tangible controller... But now that I've finally taken the step to uninstall all gaming from my laptop and my 360 is still packed away, perhaps I can make that change. I'm no longer wild enough to say this is the day of days, this is the moment of change. I don't know what makes the difference. I'm not sure what keeps us from change and what finally agrees to allow us to move forward with it but if it truly were up to my most present and concerned facets I would have been in a very different place by now. An aspect of myself got too big and I do have reason to fear it's response over the next few days at it realizes it doesn't have its most immediate arena for amusement. Sure there's writing and drawing and learning. Sure there's the films and self-investment otherwise and exercise. Sure there's my family, gf, and friends. Sure there's the search for work and the development of my company which all is very important. And of course there are the spiritual pursuits. But there's this illusion I uphold about time in between, as if there ever really is. About decompressing and mindlessness and free time. There truly isn't any. But a part of me still subscribes to a period in my life where I didn't have to care, even if I did... I'm going to change. Before I hit rock bottom, before utmost tragedy. Before I have to be taught a painful and ugly life lesson. I'm going to change before I fail everyone in my corner, before it supposedly becomes easier and before that fabled perspective arrives off a spaceship and hands me my destiny. I'm going to change before I get too old and worn out to fool around. I'm going to change on purpose because - I deserve to take myself seriously. And if I ever hope to be truly taken seriously, if I ever hope to inspire followers, I need to apply myself. Today hasn't even begun and it's already practically wasted...but I suppose starting the day with a sacrifice and some choice words isn't the worst case. Perhaps 20 minutes ago I was absorbed in my avatar's performance. Now I'm rubbing my face incessantly and tugging on my hair. I'm slouching. The middle of my back feels just awful. And when I stretch I can tell my ribs and breastplate were compressed. I must look crazy. And I'm pretty sure the uneven sleep cycle contributes to stress related symptoms and the odd physical cue like acne. I feel very much uncool. But the greater realization was that not only of degeneration but a near-conscious choice away from the things I claimed responsibility for and the desire to be recognized for. I've dropped the ball horribly this semester and was approaching the precipice... I could always have done better, but now I feel that I truly need to. The games, I see, will mark the end of me and everything I stand for if I don't resist today and forever forward work to replace the focus of that obsessive habit with one nearer to the practice of whom I deserve to be and whom others deserve from me. Specifically, the writer, the film maker, the founder, the activist, the father, the good son, the happy man, the true adventurer. There's still room for him yet I know, but only if I embrace him now. Life will not get any easier if I continue to turn my nose up and away from so precious a path as the one I've been escaping. God help me. I'm so tired all of a sudden and I don't know how to end...

I Don't Know What to Do: War

Yesterday I was in the city. Manhattan was full on a weekday evening. It was pregnant with exasperation and beautiful people and the achingly high buildings which speak of an alternate reality right next to ours at the bottom but theoretical at our best attempt to picture. I came away from a production meeting proceeding an uneventful casting (in terms of turnout, not quality per se). I went home feeling a little uplifted. The director's confidence helped me feel well-placed. And I reorganized my thoughts on the way. I was at war. I've been struggling to gain a winning hand in this mess of my identity. Action defines a person. Although I'm an idealist, I'm nothing if not executing the weight of my ideals... Ugh, that old problem again. I can speak of the proverbial "this time." I can talk forever of the beauty of a world pulled together knowing the effort involved is unfathomable. I can cling to dreams because the romance of longing for something truly great and selfless is both rapturous and selfish. But the truest work is in giving. Real work is the provision of labor and focus. Real work is meaningful and draining and rewarding. Real work is not something someone can ask of you. It is a precedent you can set and remake every day. Being a real worker is often joyless but it is soothing on some level. Directly or indirectly, it requires a divorce from the ego. But does this mean we give up pursuits of power and the benefits of wielding it? Sexuality, wealth, popularity, fine materials and expensive trinkets? Do we give up wanting to travel to the exotic, eat the exotic, have grand spaces allocated for our sole enjoyment and servants at our beck and call? Do we give up the pleasure of music and celebration in exclusive locales, access, luxury? I don't have any of the above and something tells me that if I did I would abuse them all with abandon. I would live this way if I could. I would submerse myself in the mire of stimulus until I had lost the very meaning I was born with and all I am had been supplanted with a meaningless joy. I would do it because I know I cannot truly live without understanding what I would be giving up. To see the limitations of myself now, of myself in power, of myself as an idealist, of myself as resigned, to envision all ends in limitation places idealism in paradox. The freedom to believe whatever versus the self-contained nature of any concept conceivable; where you look, you find Him - infinite forms of finite meaning; a language against boundary and a path to truth. The harmony of all of agendas will only create stagnation, a loss of need. The search is more essential. We are headed somewhere... We are imbalanced because evolution requires it. We must fight always to turn the leading philosophy, or to strengthen it. To what end? Does it matter? The breakdown of all pursuits is ubiquitous. Power corrupts, as they say. This is just one manifestation. College dropouts amass great wealth; this is another. There are no true stigmas BECAUSE because war is there to change the definition of stigma. I wrote once more that I would pursue earning $10k a month. Around $6k from production and post sound and the remaining over time from literary residuals, film distribution and my nonprofit salary. I told myself this having only half a business plan, half a sound kit, half an understanding of sound design, any number of half-developed short fiction and novel ideas. The war has raged for the last 20 years, slowly at first and now more fiercely. The enemies recognize each other and brutalize each other openly, leaving me the host frantic with desperation and guilt, doubt and rage. I lean into it. I lean into it. I will tremble beneath the strike. I will feel the fear. I will shake and cry. I will stand if more from stubborn will than from courage. I will stand because people depend on me. And more will before this battle is over. I am haunted by it.

Smart brain lists agenda, body to follow

Inspired by the short story "Memento Mori" by Jon Nolan, I take whole-heartedly to the concept that I'm not altogether of one mind on any given inspiration. My day is littered with wayward suggestions, many of which I'm directly responsible for, so that at the end of the day when I remember the yearnings of this year, my age and life, I'm left wondering why I didn't commit the day pursuing them. The hours fly by in a waste of irrelevance. Might as well commit some things here and perhaps if I remember to read this post early enough in the day I will find the heart to stay true to the yearnings that accompany me to bed every evenings with harsh reprove. I will play the piano. I will read music. I will speak Spanish. I will speak Russian. I will speak Hebrew. I will write countless works of fiction and have several published. I will stay fit and healthy. I will keep the stress away. I will start and build and lead a successful film company. I will have a home. I will have a family. I will support my mom. I will dress well. I will have a nice car. I will save money for my children. I will mentor a host of youth with a philosophy that will strengthen the film industry. I will read my library in its entirety. I will dance salsa well. I will be a functional sketch artist. I will make my family proud every year. I will play video games again one day on my own big screen with surround sound. I will see my films in the cinema, my books in the store. I will travel and I will have wonderful views from all my homes. There's more. It gets quite specific in fact. The details in the dreams aren't likely beneficial for you, my nonexistent reader, and less so for me since I'm sure given the chance anyone can site an endless list of what appeals to them. These first entries came to mind first and so I'll deal with them. In order to do the things that require mastery, like artistry, dance, writing, speaking different languages and building a business based on a collaborative medium, as well as staying fit, one would assume a daily routine. So how do I create one suitable while eating and maintaining some social and hygienic responsibilities and protect myself from being led astray? Planning, the original intent of this post, isn't working.

Self-discovery

Modesty dictates we humiliate ourselves. The nature of the humble man is to admit his faults and decline recognition of his strengths. To do anything else is liable to invite criticism. We fear that. We like our eligibility, we enjoy the benefits of a well-regarded ego. Science has taught us the ego is not acting alone. Before I continue I should say that what's brought be to this discussion is a lack of opportunity. I'm trying to give up one obsession and replace it with another one which has been greatly neglected. The formation of ideas, philosophizing, communicating and eventually using the influence of developed thought to enhance the world through story or conversation of some other means. But the premise, yes? No jobs. I'm suited for very little. My copy-writing is verbose and frankly I don't enjoy it for products I don't believe in and I doubt myself for products I might believe in because marketing is an industry of bullshit. You make buying decisions on analysis that means very little. You sell yourself, your own conviction to people that are too scared to take any responsibility for themselves. Ultimately what is of value is access to TV/Radio and Web. Something catchy, some well received art and smart wording and the right connections and you can sell almost any concept. I'm presuming. I have no direct experience but a track record of success isn't based on any quantifiable outcome because each deal may have been bullshit that came out of the last pile of bullshit being bought. It's simply people that understand how to manipulate public thinking with the presumption of being right. I think the public itself is too wild a beast to be predicted but if you only provide them with certain choices you only have to be as attractive as the other guy to get a share of public access. I digress. I analyze too much for that work and I think it's shifty. Can't get into hospitality cause it's got a fence and I don't know anyone on the inside. I have no admin experience, most offices prefer women and apprenticeship is a lost mechanism. I can't apply to full-time positions because of school and frankly there are no more leaders in the corporate world. Just over privileged bosses that are petty or indifferent, really human beings with a dose of authority that results in capable, hard-working folks supervised by fearful, self-important, morons. The greater the authority the greater the servant you are, both to your company AND your subordinates. They respond because you lead them. They curse you and hate you if you treat them like slaves. But it's better, from the company standpoint, to limit dissent with tyrannical behavior. The more difficult and irrational a supervisor is, the better chance they have at receiving a promotion. I'm ranting now. This was about self-discovery. I'm mad. I've discovered that. I will discover a few more things before the day is through and many of these things I'll forget. I suppose under the right range of influences I could be anything. And here's the kicker, the choice to pursue the development of certain discovered aspects is as much a part of who you are and can be as is what you discover in the first place. You are allowed not simply to take the good with the bad, although that certainly is a start, but also to become attracted to your own best attributes and to exercise them as a muscle. Leadership doesn't only come from taking responsibility for your faults, but also taking responsibility for your strengths. Imagine a romantic relationship where you never sought forgiveness for your insecurities because you understood the truth and chose to work beyond it. Imagine the way your parents would look at you if you simply embraced your destiny and let them know you were going to be OK. I'm jobless today because of the economy and because face-to-face interviews have been replaced with digital walls that only benefit understaffed HR departments who will probably hire the bosses asshole nephew anyway. But I can think and I am physically capable. I can work even if no work is given to me. I can be my own industry if I choose to be. Realizing this is a strength in itself. There was never anything to lose because nothing belongs to you, not even time which is ever flowing. The only thing that will attract the right things to you is accepting your greatest self and letting others know that you know things will happen exactly as they should. As long as you uphold your end, you're doing all you can and it is better to live with that pride than to fuss over the inequity of your environment.... Damn. Well we all need an outlet.

Today is (aw hell you can see the date next to the post)

I spent the last two days on Diablo III. Then I woke up and had a fit of hysteria to some dub-step. I exercised and practiced talking about my company in the mirror. More ideas and no assets. Ah...what it means to be an American. I've inherited the dream and my only job is to chase it. It can be my only function. Everything else is moot. Today's epiphany: Our identities are preconditioned by external influence. We are not that. Our physical type is preconditioned by inherited influence. We are not that. Our emotions are conditioned by chemical reaction. We are not them. We are born from both extremes and what is truly us is that one element that weighs the options and moves forward. The enemy is the thought that makes us believe it is better to make no choice or that one is not available. We are choice. That is, if not the defining element of our existence, the one subtle clue to the truth of our destiny. We should hold on to it as if our life depended. We should hold to the little voice that warns us away from harm, and supports us through acts of bravery. We should stay true to the nature that existed before our current nature was given to us. It is not human. We are only human for being born on Earth and in our time. The truth of us comes from what humans are meant to be. Adaptation is a core element of my business model. It has to be. If we are contained, with as little assets as we have, we are dead in the water. Mobility will be our answer. Are projects must be flexible. Our income streams must be diverse. Our staffing must be interchangeable. That is how we will defeat many waves of resistance.

Today is Monday, Fourth of June, Year 2012

I did little of what I wanted to do yesterday. Plagued by human frailty, I wonder what the machine lives like. No matter. I will delve into the distraction and come out of it alive yet. I'll undo the curse. I must. Ahead of me, so that I may recall and be so bold as to state, lies an ambitious journey. It's one that I pray will affect the class structure as a tectonic plate with a mind to move. I believe people should work and have stability. Moreso, I believe the abundance of the current age should be presented. We are a shortsighted race. Profit is all too important now. I'm happy for it in that it becomes a measure of esteem to those with a mind for conquest, venture, investment and building. But for everyone else that has yet to withdraw their sword, we need education. And yet education is under attack. So jobs, and schools and . . . Dreams, yes? I see now that I am afraid of what I am suited for. I am afraid it will not be my dream. I have suffered illusions before. Most of them were born in my heart from longing and loneliness. You can influence the world but you can't control people. But I need people to make this work. How will I inspire them? How will I inspire them?

Today is Sunday, the Third of June, Year 2012

I would like to be less obscure. I would also like to be far more committed to my plans then, lets say, the plans organized by Blizzard and Bioware and Bethesda game developers. A valuable lesson here though: if you want to be successful in life, sell crack. My thoughts should be shorter. I'll start with my plans for today: a new love journeys far from me. There's a need to fill the gap. Old initiatives vie for priority. But one looms above them all. I have no specialization save what my schooling is prepping me for. I don't know how this happened. But I'm going to acknowledge that I've done enough day dreaming about starting my own company to warrant some relevant behavior. I'm playing Diablo III till 10 AM. Then I am walking to campus to see if its open so I can write till 2pm. Though I am eager to dive into my fiction once again, I have a lot to do for my business plan. It's the priority. I am coming back home to exercise. From 5pm to 9pm I will look for work and/or try to organize work opportunities. I will watch the season finale of Games of Thrones. I'll meditate for 30 minutes on my progress and my next step and I'll write to notify those following me of how things went. Then I will play more Diablo III.

On Victory

It's never the point, is it?

It's fleeting. It doesn't provide. I mean there is the endorphin reaction, sure. But anything worth celebrating is usually won at great cost against great adversity. And for what? To take in the moment and go home?

It's not about the end but what comes after. It's about utilizing the prestige or the momentum to great effect. It's about continuing on in a greater state than you were before.

I have this habit of writing to fulfill a sense of productivity, like depositing change in a bank. And I think if I can just get my hands loose I'll continue and write my fiction and my poetry. But instead I allow this feeling of satisfaction, this false accomplishment, to take the place of anything else I might do that would actually mean something.


It calms me down. Admittedly the act is an escape. I write something to avoid writing THE thing. I never thought that each poem and each completed short would simply be a step in a building process of my own strength as a writer. I mean we know this as common sense - that people who do something often get better at it. But I think my perspective viewed the outcome as the goal, not as one long continuous evolution of effort. So I'd write for the day and forget about it. I'd eat for the moment and forget about it. I'd earn a paycheck from work and use it as I need it but not as I choose to invest it. Each repetitive thing we ignore is valuable in the pursuit of a great living state IF we understand the worth of victory as a practice.

Victory or success or winning, all mean you have a temporary edge. It's confidence. It's being known perhaps. It's an opportunity to be listened to and taken seriously.

On the road to public success must be an infinite amount of private ones. There certainly are an infinite amount of private failures I can account for, otherwise I wouldn't be home in my pajamas for the last 3 days playing games on my laptop. Now there is a habit well constructed and afforded by the genius in interactive entertainment. How can a person with the aptitude for over 12 hours of focus, easily, have it susceptible to the particular stimulus of the digital medium and not be able to wield it on command?

I thought wanting something and achieving it were arbitrarily related. Now I see that the tools best suited are not aptly applied as a rule in some cases. Crossed wiring?

But like any program, a command change in one line can alter the function. They way I viewed tasks made the approach seem laborious. But looking beyond the final word of the story, beyond the development of the script, beyond the choice to try, beyond the eventual success of achievement, and I am confronted by an ideal state by which I can do . . . some real good in this world.

Well I'm not sure if I truly believe that. For every idea I have there are people that would attack it and maybe the best ideas are never seen that way until they've been marketed right. Trying to find the true good in the middle of all the things that seem to come close is impossible. Sometimes it seems like humans were never meant to agree. But then there's victory and you can't be victorious in the way we are used to without it being recognized by those around you.

It's a moment of communion but that isn't the point now. It just resembles something that we are all attracted to... And I suppose those that are watching want to be a part of it. So victory becomes a greater statement about what we all want in the world, the quality within us to offer something important. And then-to do just that.

If I look at meeting goals as having the right to meet another and taking joy in each accomplishment, then I would never cease in my effort and I would accomplish a great deal.

My challenge exists in all the habits formed prior to this new practice, where there was no importance beyond the act or beyond the day. I've had so much time to lose my sense of urgency that now, when I'm trying to create a sense of perpetual joy while acting upon a realized freedom to succeed, I am faced with a wall of complacency.

In games we are provoked into action and we call it stimulus. We are attacked and we find within us the nature to respond, to end the conflict, to resolve the turmoil, to save the day or overcome the challenge otherwise. But when realizing our own worth we are faced with the infinite. I don't know where to begin at first because I'm thinking of some goal that doesn't exist.

Victory isn't a goal, it's a state of existence. One instance of success MUST role into another. It is the waves of motion in the ocean, it is the steady self-perpetuating rhythm of our hearts. Success is life and death every day, a cycle that has allowed humanity to form. So success in the heart and mind must not be constricted . . .

We call it hard work and seek to escape it. We seek to relax and think we owe it to ourselves to rest. But when it's the right work and we use that same formula we are missing the point. This is the problem, or part of it at least.

I believe investment is dangerous, I am programmed to avoid my commitment. It's not that I don't want to write but I have a strong sense that I shouldn't and I can't figure out the one root and this is how I know that wanting something isn't enough. The feeling, it's the feeling. There is a lot of hesitation when I think about acting. Hesitation and fear as if I stood before something too important to touch but would be mine if I felt the conviction of being worthy of it.

It's an honest question poised to me from something ultimately beyond my understanding:

DO I REALLY WANT THIS? IS IT REALLY MINE? DO I HAVE THE RIGHT?

There is no judgement in the question because all the consequences are known and accounted for somewhere. It's just a question for me and about me and no one truly knows what it feels to be asked it in my shoes and know one should ever care.

The universe is benevolent and just. The void it contains eclipses our understanding, our perspective, our reality. You do not accept deals with it lightly if you do not know your place, and yet men do it easily enough in their ignorance and plow forward through history recklessly and call it it bravery. There is a modicum of bravery sure, when facing the unknown.

But it is far more terrible to face the full request and consequence of your existence and choose the path forward once you understand the importance of the part you can play.

So we come at last to the famous saying "Be careful what you wish for." It is a lesson in the heart of me that I do not take lightly and it is disguised by humility, thought it is truly a fear of my own capacity; of the image I must invoke, the person I must become to allow for all the effort I am as yet unfamiliar with in this life. But the choice is not fleeting, it stays with me and stares at me and waits. It is the patience of it that is unnerving and makes me feel like I have a debt to pay.

Chasing Volition

It's nothing short of magical. Being creative makes no sense. Why are we inspired and from where does it all originate. What is the chemical value, the physical value of questioning the reasons why anything happens? What is the implication once we begin to receive answers?

I guess it depends on what answers you get. But I'm referring to the stillness that comes with doing something entirely personal. I'm alone in the apartment. I hear my fingers hitting the keys. It won't be long now before someone interrupts me, before I'm reminded of what responsibilities are looming over me...but for now the time is mine and I'm using it to hunt down - well what can we call it? Self-control?

Currently I'm experiencing the onset of that oh-so-familiar condition of narcolepsy. I'm not proud to falter beneath sabotage. I wish I could identify specifically whatever douses the mind in that black velvet of sleepiness at the moment of truth. But maybe I'm just too relaxed. I just don't see how this weakness can ever allow a full book of fiction. I need a break for a moment to stretch my legs. Being independently productive is the God challenge of our existence. And to think it's a wild enough chase attempting to claim the right to change one's path, to alter one's habits, to act upon a goal with full determination all days. Imagine what happens when I finally get fingers around the trigger, wouldn't I just lose my mind with excitement and doubt?

The problem with writing fiction

It's easier not to do it.

Mindlessness

The mind's an awkward tool. It will not always support you. Often it can crash, and will, at critical moments. There are reasons to fear this loss of control but the mind is not who we are. It's a tool. It attempts to translate our interactions into terms that represent absolute values like beneficial or dangerous. But it's capacity to accurately determine the truth of an encounter is limited to our own education and references. In order to increase the vocabulary you have to break regulation on occasion.

When the thoughts stop coming, when your interpretations lack depth and fail you, and you wonder if you are out of your league, just relax. Let the lack of understanding give way to peace of mind, because surely you can't do much about something you have no reference point for.

Your secondary lifeline are you natural instincts. They're bred into you; fight or flight. Survival doesn't take much, just a willingness to let the form set the pace. There isn't much to say about it. We don't often interact with our instincts unless under dire circumstances so the terms are less that stable. We're not super familiar with our animal selves so dropping guard can have the consequence of misfiring (e.g. hitting someone without cause and paying for it, or leaping out of a window from pure fright only to die anyway).

The tertiary mechanism is something you might here in philosophy 101: a priori. There's an argument some are tempted to put forward that we know all we need to know and that our minds are just picking up the slang to translate that awareness into local currency. There are plenty of living examples too stupid to support this but if I'm allowed to chalk up the irregularity of common sense as a means toward a dark future by our, very much insistent, darker tendencies, then what we're left with is the institution of terms agreed upon being misrepresented as objective truth and confusing what we are and what our purpose is.

Finding yourself without a clue would be a blessing in this case. It's a vacation from the madness of our combined perspective and a trip into the void of creation where nothing and everything meet. It's the birthplace of consciousness, that element that allowed for sentient life to roam the galaxies and somewhere at the heart of darkness is an understanding that can't be defined but defines all.

Now making peace with your world could be the outcome and not a very productive one. It's not about letting the chips fall, it's about not playing the game at all. It's about choosing a different way to experience and live and to do it with the a priori first and the mind and body closely following. It means that when things look bad, understand that look is a distraction from the truth of an imbalance that you are there to correct. Let's call it justice and let's call your work in the formula gifted. Let's call it all crazy because we created language and that honesty may suffice to stop calling it anything. End of story, learn to understand non-traditionally and treat each day like a bright new revelation and perhaps the so-called miracles will return to us carrying abundance on every wing.

Dissapointment

It's my view that the world is divided by people who do for others and those that do solely for themselves. Many of us walk the tightrope because we are capable, easily, of doing both. However the seed of one concept is rooted a little deeper. Extreme situations make the dividing line and we know who we are.

I'm no socialist/communist. I don't even know what that means. I believe we each owe it to ourselves to utilize our inherent freedom to find our fullest potential. And I believe that in doing so we can provide our greatest benefit to the world and should do it in a way that also provides for our happiness. Being good at something and being adequately appreciated for it is a wonderful, if not ideal, experience.

But we are left short-sighted when the resources don't balance properly, thus the class warfare now thinly veiled by bipartisan politics. The wealthy and powerful need humility and perspective and need to lead or the sphere of experience to which they are privileged will corrupt their legacy, the world will crumble with such inappropriate misuse of wealth and the system will fail, eventually leaving an imploding state; a vacuum that the rest of the world will war over filling.

That is one worse-case scenario. It could go any number of ways. But having the power to do good and just doing like any common man is a waste of potential. Living above your means, spending on ridiculous luxuries, alienating your fellow man, not educating, not reinforcing, not taking your ability seriously (that part of it that is directly relevant to your connection within the great organism of this planet) is an affront to the meticulous process that arrived with us, with today.

No self-respecting individual wants a hand out, just the right to work hard and earn their fare share. Not everyone is seriously interested in doing nothing. There is an entire class of people who love that they can provide for their loved ones...

But not everyone understands their own capacity or has the sight to find the right opportunity. They can do right but are misdirected and ignored. This happens in relationships of all kinds. Some of us are try hard because we believe in something, and some people just exist to consumer experiences and abandon their conscience as often as possible.

It's the unconscious people that make me angry, that demonstrate the living setback of our society. They don't want to think and choose or refuse to. No communication, no regard and when they do respond, it's nonsense. If left alone they would destroy the universe and abstain from admitting suicide. And the rest of us with ideas, with sentiment, with compassion, would die trying to hold back the tied of things these others let loose.

We need to be aware of the potential good we can do and do something. The more power we have, the larger the support team and the retinue of ass-kisser, the more that can be delegated, the more that can be achieved. Power surrounds the successful, opportunities surround the attractive, but their commitment to themselves does not usually evolve to anything grander, and they prove how limited their ambition is.

When I first wanted to write about dissapointment, it was with the idea that I might have to regret the type of person I was for the unkind people I have associated myself with in the past. It was more about being regretful for believing in any worthwhile communication across the board. Instead I've learned I had to be particularly picky about who I surround myself with and even then it may pay off to play things close to the chest, be reserved, observe, use leverage, secure the hierarchy even in casual relationships or abandon it.

But I don't want to be this person. My mindset has since adjusted from the point where I wrote the title and saved the draft for working on another day. I'm not feeling bleek today though my situation is what it is. I'm near destitute. I won't get into it again. Still, the point was it turned out that I wasn't really concerned or surprised about the frailties of other people but rather that I let their mindlessness stain my outlook.

Why should I let a mass passive-aggression turn me into a vegetable? That would be like agreeing with these assholes.

On Distraction

It's amazing what one can focus on during an escape. Our ability to prioritize the secondary objectives seems incredibly effective. Primary objectives, if ambitious enough, cause a bit of shock. They can breed hesitation, procrastination, and excuses. But by comparison, an alternative agenda seems to brighten the day.

There's a psychological association with the mission, some ominous attachment that causes the ego to eject like a pilot from a flaming jet.

School to video games,
writing to exercising,
social ventures to sleep,
family get together to school work

There's no pattern, just mindless and arbitrary hopping. The question is then if we can't acquire the diverging energy and reinvest it, at its peak, in the task at hand? Why can't we catch the blasted devil that is our own elusive will and stick in its seat and point it at the bulls-eye?

How simple would life be if we could take the impulse of our distraction and stack it upon the most important order we've given to ourselves: to live healthy, to be self-confident and have conviction, to achieve mastery, to accomplish effortlessly all the goals that fall within our radar? What if we could take that very natural interest we have in all things aside the great issues and sharpen them consciously upon the opportunity for success in whatever idea that has the greatest potential impact in our lives?

It's so easy to do what I shouldn't be doing and such a pain in the ass to do what I'm know I'm supposed to. If I can find a way to swap these values, if I can just find a way to adjust for the emotional lapse, and take its reinvestment back where it belongs, well . . . nothing could stop me.

On Discipline

What part of the self rules the other parts? In a proper democracy this role is always changing. We preach balance and call it a good idea. But houses are built on order. Bridges and walls are built with repetition. Mountains are climbed one foot at a time for several thousand. There can be no lenience if one is to complete the journey. There can be no wayward tendency. The blade is sharpened finest with patience.

So now I discover that unlike the nature around us, which shows us order and designation and repetition, and unlike our own bodies which are filled with structure and design, the three aspects that define us are at odds.

How we function at all...scratch that. How we achieve anything must be a matter of the heart. It must be obsession. What pulls all aspects together is more than I can define. But whatever it is, call it passion, or addiction, or insanity, or fear or desperation, it is the trump card on the enigma of humanity. It binds a man's varying faces in to one solid edifice, it binds people into stark contrast . . . we think money does this, or influence, power or leverage. Sure, people are herded, but what gives one man or group of men the foresight to conjure the mechanism to control other men; mind and body?

Why go through the trouble and how does one overcome the challenge?

It's not that control of others is the goal, merely control of the self. Should a person not delight so easily in escapism, or the company of loved ones, or indulgence of any kind. Should he forfeit a jovial existence so that he may create a lasting legacy?

What is discipline to the common being?

I can say, so far, of one path. It is through the destruction of the ego and it's replacement with an idea, that a purposeful action gains traction and a goal is pulled near. Even one's humanity may be compromised in this act of lunacy, in the tearing down of name and status and importance and desire all for one idea that will redefine the life of the being. It's not discipline, it is possession. It is being possessed.

One must give up, and not just once but repeatedly hit and dismantled. One must be torn down. It's sad but I do not the trust the easily organized, the casually right thinkers, the ones who manage their investments clinically without any temptation and the appearance of balance without any sign of the pain of growth. I do not trust the ones that say there is nothing to it. They have not suffered, they have not learned the hard way. They have never buckled beneath the weight of their needs and the anger caused by hunger. And if they have, and if they hide it, shame them.

To remove oneself from poverty means to remove oneself from the spiritual state that allows poverty and that may mean breaking down every definition one has come to live by and then to repeat that struggle with everyone that has to come to label them. True change is not just within, but without. To reshape one's existence, the idea ruling the mind must be known to be expendable. All interests, all habits, all fears, all doubts, all concerns, all connection...gone.

True discipline is dangerous. It means becoming a tool of a greater deed. It means sacrifice. The paradox: if the goal was appreciated in the former mind, what happens to its legitimacy when that mind, because of its failure to achieve it, is replaced? How does one transcend without forgetting the purpose of their transcendence?

On Determination

Time's-a-wasting. For near 15 minutes I'm sitting with my fingers suspended over a this keyboard. I'm trying to breathe some life into a derelict blog. I'm doing this because I have to acknowledge that the investment I made in attempting to write consistently was not just a method of self-therapy. It wasn't meant to be a hobby only. It was meant to be an exercise that supported a discipline that might one day develop into one aspect of my career as a creator and storyteller. Why would I ever let this go fully knowing that it would serve no other purpose but the greatest one: to keep my mind alive with intent, self-awareness, and in service of the dream of my life. Recently, perhaps because of time and limiting circumstances I have undergone a great sense of despair. As the gifts of interest and opportunity might evaporate out of disuse, I felt a bitter loneliness greater than what I've felt provided by the missing peoples of my inner world; these personalities unaware of their importance, following their own stories and paths while I watch them fade from view as a vision that was never really there. No this feels worse. As the connection thins between me and the life of great merit I always felt I was made for, I found my sanity going with it. For it there remained nothing left to be done in this mind, if not to solve the problem of the unobtained.

What does madness mean to me? It means ignoring life's value. It means never believing in anything true again. It means always being a burden to everyone around me. It means never passing on a legacy, never finding love, never being capable of righting any wrongs, never leading, never leaving the world in a better place than I found it. For however many decades I have left I will sacrifice them to nothingness and what an addition that will make in a world already strangled by complacency and dishonor and injustice and horror. The people representing our humanity and the best possible future for our race, have always faced a bitter end. None of the people leaving seeds behind get to see if they grow. Perhaps their faith comes from the seeds planted in previous generations and certainly our people have evolved through great social change. But the greatest is before us yet. It is class warfare and it is culturally unbiased despite our tendency to point at old wounds. All manner of people are suffering now.

My mother and I live under great strain and for who knows how long will we be allowed to keep this shelter we've enjoyed for almost thirty years. If I'm not creating with what time I have left I have access to electricity, or a pen and paper, or school materials, if I am not giving all for the day I have a home and a family and the respect of a position that can be looked on with some acknowledgment, then why should I deserve it?

Does determination mean that we have agreed to compromise ourselves? Does it mean that we have knowingly engaged discomfort and possibly hardship to scale a height without guarantee or assurance? Under what circumstance is determination defined? Is being stubborn another way of explaining it? Must I be stubborn to earn the life I dream of. Must I be unwilling to accept any other? Is that enough for a person...it sounds, in its near blind refusal of extraneous circumstance, a bit like the madness I started out with.

Should a man be determined to change what is not fully in his control to manipulate? My financial standing in a broken economy with art as my main argument? Can I even call this art? The questions pile and determination, for its own sake, would have me ignore them and put words on paper or on screen and use them to argue that I am a writer.

But what was I determined to do with this claim? I live off its successful execution, without ivy league backing, without great promise at early age, without the sense to learn brevity or increase my vocabulary, I am determined to monetize the word as I manage to shape it. After months away, I am trying again.