Discipline.

Not a lot of fun. It has very few attractive qualities and they are all quite indirect. I dare say that the positive form of discipline is obsession. To be driven by a need or hunger in such a way that preoccupation diminishes is really preferable. I can sit with my Xbox360 for hours. I used to be able to do the same with WoW. Both activities have taken up less an less time recently due to simple lack of interest. I find a vacuum however where I spin irrationally to different potentially distracting activities that don't yield much satisfaction. It's like repeatedly going to the fridge knowing there's nothing to eat.
Information being readily available, my new areas of focus are centering around the same story I've been selling myself since I was ten. I'm going to be an author and a film maker. I've got the books and the time and I'm actually finding myself with nothing better to do than to sit and read and study. The mind still wanders however and without deadlines of serious consequence, the only urgency I can generate stems from a vision of myself in ten years. Somewhere along the way I want to own property, a Bentley, a business. I've got all this time to plan and research and the days are zooming by . . . wow, I used to think time just flew when you were having fun. To think you can sense its rapidity from anxiety or speculation. It feels closer to waiting for a package to arrive that you've invested in, or crossing your fingers before they announce the lottery. The closer you get to committing yourself to a life goal, the more dreadful it seems. That fear might have been what's kept me diverted for so long. Courage being a virtue and defined in its spite of fear, would make the term "fearless" an inhuman quality. The lack of any emotion suggests a coldness that does not bend to the ego's wavering response to the dangers of the moment. Of course it's just one example I'm using to generalize the conditions, like doubt, that stamp out consistently progressive behavior. But I wonder if the distribution of monetary wealth isn't some indication of a play on the disconnect from our relative vulnerabilities. If you're sharp enough to make life a chess board, one you can see clearly and move with purpose, then what does that make you?
The important moments string together and make something as yet imperceivable. We can speculate and come no closer to realizing the balancing act of our potential weighing itself upon our decisions of courage and passion and fear. I've started to feel a guilt that grows around the hours that pass. Sometimes living starts to feel like being a part of a system you have no say in, when you get down to figuring out where the unhappiness comes from. And it's ludicrous that you'd have no say. But the alternative truth makes one pause. It's the pause that gets you, kills you if it can. I have to remember not to pause. It's OK to let the world know I got a clue and I'm using it. Maybe discipline comes down to not pausing. It comes down to faulting the argument for hesitation or moderation. I see people all around working so hard and digging themselves deeper into all forms of debt; to bad relationships, to jobs, to places they don't want to be in. It's hard to accept you can put that same effort into change, and it be OK with the world you've come to know. The paradox is it's not OK with your world and what you've accepted of yourself. Light can shine in from the outside and all it causes is trepidation at first and for a while after. If the only thing to put faith in is consequence, the despair can be strenuous if not fatal. But it's this pragmatic view that becomes evidence you're accepting control of what happens. If you can get rid of that buffer of pretext and misconception, the anxiety about the "what ifs," then the information they yield become relevant and strategically necessary to navigate your way out. Everyday yields opportunity to practice this control, no matter where you are.
"Discipline" has a bad connotation because to the average person it means forcibly doing something you don't want to do over and over again cause you have to. It doesn't portray favorable commitment, constitution, or desire because the word is beaten over the heads of individuals that can't relate: parents to children, bosses to subordinates, teachers to students. Discipline is demanded by the institution upon its dependents. There is no one word of equivalent describing when the dependent demands it upon the institution, or when the soul provides the imperative upon the body. No I'll strike discipline from my mind and see what I can do with desperation, obsession, rage and love and my own imagination to light the way. It sounds chaotic, but doing things for the sake of practicing a sterile behavior; being disciplined as an end in itself, is still submitting myself to a laborious use of my will as deemed beneficial by the standards of authority I forgot to recognize. Life should be an adventure, not a daunting practice. I can play video games religious. I escape everyday to the terms I prefer. Evidence exists that I can be dedicated to something. I just need to bring those terms home to me, and own them in the things that matter. Then discipline won't seem like a lash. It'll be a banner. And my faith in consequence will yield the spoil of production.
In the end, I as a young man with an open future, just want to declare myself something positive and forceful. Nothing is trivial.

I don't know what to write.

No. That's not true. It's not plain to me but it's there nonetheless. It's some thumping, clanking nonsense in the background. The only tangible material lies in the intent. It's most clear desperation is a stride toward legacy.

The ride is so important, so the ego frays before the dilemma of "how?" and "why?" relinquishing moments to translate the intent for the long view. It's easy to get caught up in wonder; the appreciation of life's mysticism. The quiet moments at 2am, when the pretenses fall and falling asleep feels like giving up, are the clues that the day and its distractions acted both as hiatus, and missed opportunity to fight for something closer, to the truth.

Today I quit my internship. I cut a loss of time ill spent. I'm 26. An internship without direct knowledge of the company or a strategy to win the hearts of its management is like donating life-times to the abyss of never-where. I try to find consolation in the lesson, that decision making should not be a passive consequence of external events. Were that lesson so easy . . . I've been wanting to sit still and write my business plans. My unemployment is running out, I have few games to claim my interest. I'm building the courage to jog again. My life has be a series of preparations and plateaus, but I won't stop believing that perspective can change the game. Not everyone ages well. Peel your lids back and find yourself racing a demon without regard for showmanship or declaration. In fact, the enemy of progression is silent; absence. The fight for legacy comes in simple moves, strategies, counterattacks, feints, presses and withdrawals. It's sort of wonderful when you take a step back. But I do wonder if that hand that articulates this tapestry isn't simply my willful own. Is idle deliberation a sign of the crazies? I wish someone had the authority to point that out. But I know I'd flip them the bird anyway. Being human is a trip. No wonder the signs don't come in plain English anymore.

Incomplete

If I said I felt lost, I'd feel pretty funny. It seems such a melodramatic statement, complete with generalized overtones of despair having no function other than to justify idleness.

But I do. Tsk Tsk to me. And I travel between homes of family and sentiments with not real sanctuary of my own. I see the roads and skies passing around me and I wait for some solid ground, all the while knowing that waiting is a joke and an excuse ultimately revealing nothing but a standstill. Time is pushing me forward like the momentum of the planets revolution and you'd think I'd get the hint. I do in fact. I dare say maybe . . . just maybe that missing gear, that crossed wire, maybe it's been OK this whole time. What if I'm not broken and it's all some backward decision I made somewhere along the way that I'm too scared or too comfortable to re-neigh on?

Yesterday I did this and tomorrow I'll do that and the whole mission will be pushed back another hour to another week and my sadness will linger upon months of regret. But I'm awake during all this. The shame is sharpened with time and it has its own grip on movement.

I got this whole back'n'forth thing going on if you haven't noticed. I have some work I put off for several levels of a video game. This was after a day of listening, which is easy to do, to someone who cares about me and uses the time with me to self-medicate with appropriated wisdom that isn't appreciated elsewhere. I'll call him Coach. He reaffirms his righteousness, gives me confidence and we do this all day. If it weren't for the evidence he provides I'd sign off completely but I think it's working cause I come away terrified. It doesn't quite stop me from living but it makes me aware of how far behind I am. He see's my potential tomorrow, I see bad habits repeating themselves. Hope is great and all but you need a sentiment inside you that sort of works like a point man and sharpshooter combined. Move forward, line it up, pull the trigger and see what happens. It just happens to be that my trigger might take 2 years to pull. I'm guestimating.

We're talking ambition here people. According to my data, thinking is of no use by itself. It's an impotent agent. There is a great benefit in the unknown. Within it lies our greatest moment. And while adventure may imply spontaneity, it takes the strictest discipline to properly explore the potential of the thinking process.

Babble. No spelling error there. It's just what I do. Speculation assassinates progress. This all makes me wonder about drugs.

I like the idea of being an entrepeneur. Along the way I stumble into all this self-psycho-analyzing and I wonder how self-made millionaires never talk about all this. I do this because I'm a common guy with that common dream of being supremely uncommon. I know the general populace is where a lot of people end up and thats it and I don't look down on anyone for choosing a simpler path. If it's good it's good. But I wanna leave something behind, I just don't feel that, as a minority and as a lower middle class citizen, I have the programming for it. I'm scared of the lack of living and ultimately I sabotage myself anyway. I don't know why but I got a clue the other day it might have something to do with the fundamental doubt instigated in me when I attempted to rationalize my father's absence from home as I grew into adolescence. The discomfort and worry and general vulnerability sill linger. I don't think about him that often, these emotions are just residue and yet it's a sticky tar that was never completely washed off.

I don't want to make my dad the point of any argument. I don't think I can count on any resolution if I depended on him to make sense of my inertia for me, or if I depended on him to just help me resolve my dislocation from assurance. I don't want to depend on him even though I should be able to. Despite best intentions, he just wasn't there for me the way I needed. Seeing children grow up without guidance pains me. I don't know if its something I could live with if I had a child accidentally with nothing to give him and then have us forced apart or I winded up being forced to rationalize being separated from him or even worse, found myself distancing the child over emotions of indifference I hide behind some obligatory appreciation for vague concepts of whatever the hell it is stupid young men think about fatherhood. I'd rather sign up for a large term life insurance policy after getting in shape and then pay someone to steal my wallet and blow my brains out so the kid gets the money. At best someone can tell him I was trying to rescue somebody and he can build some awesome romance around it. Even if he hated me for it, he couldn't refuse to believe the act was noble and I'm sure the nest egg would give him the means to pursue his passions and test his ideal on the world.

That's a lot more speculation than I should invest in a blog entry but I don't really know what to do with this yet. Being consistent would still be a ginormous step up for me. Growing is easy when you obviously don't know shit. When you think you know is when you start to fight for inches.

Yeah, well . . .

Blogging isn't exciting anyway. I could spend 500 words speculating on the reasons why people do it and essentially I'd call it therapy, but I'd lie if I said it had nothing to do with an idea that someone with the ability to amplify might notice my message.

Self improvement, or discipline as its otherwise recognized, is hard because it's unnecessary. It breaks the equilibrium. It leaves us potentially bewildered and left thinking distracting thoughts like "why am I on this treadmill? Why am I spending hours trying to control my fingers on this stupid keyboard? Why am I saving this $20 bill? Why am I bothering?"

I submitted a readmit application to Brooklyn College earlier this week. I also recently invested in some test material software for IT certifications. I'd like to be self employed by the summer with maybe a restaurant gig to hold me down. It's all fantasy at the moment but I can't help but wonder if it really isn't all there for the taking. I'm in NYC after all. Hustling bring people together. Hunger leads to wealth and hunger is gravitational. I just hope I'm not a delusional 26 yr old. I know I'm afraid and avoiding more than a few things. Even now I prefer sleep to this rambling. I just know though, that if I don't write, I'm breaking myself and killing my future. I wouldn't feel it cause that kind of death takes a life time to a achieve, a lifetime of putting your dreams aside.

We fight for more than these dreams. We fight for hope itself.

ARGH!

Why is the H at the end of Argh! AARG-HHHHHH. I don't know . . . be wise to have a mint first before you cry out in rage and exasperation.

I have insufficient funds to maintain my $1 minimum. I withdrew $40 last night only have $20 available (why in the hell would my bank let me do that if they knew I would be forced into the negative and have to pay them a penalty??? I obviously have no money to do that!!!)

What's more is that I spent that money on a round of drinks. You can't be nice anymore in this city I swear. I mean that too, the one's responsible for my insufficiency is the New York State tax and finance jerks who removed the $500 I owed them directly from my checking account instead of from the $900 I was getting from Federal. They did it on the same day I got my Unemployment allowance, meaning they took that completely and add $100 for an untimely withdrawal for a school loan payment that was scheduled last week.

A certain online do it yourself tax prep site that rhymes with completetax.com shafted me nice.

It's my fault. Conscious living isn't just a suggestion, it's a raft in open water. It's the beginning to a semblance of order. And no amount of intelligence really asserts that emotional urgency that keeps your instincts a live and watchful.

Rule #1 for Americans (the hardest to learn): Make it hard to screw yourself.

Things I can see.

Dear America,

I can see the ass-end of Brooklyn College from my bedroom window. It lies across the tracks nestled in a stripe of forest-growth that goes from here to there; who knows where? In preparation for return, I did my taxes a couple of nights ago and concluded that the IRS doesn't mind the bidding war going on between various tax preparation agencies, offering up greater and greater returns as if a standard should have never been set up. Everyone wishes to gain and avoid loss. Multiply that by millions and turn the cheek on the deficit. It's only natural.

Those of us surviving unemployed with heat, a roof, and running water are probably now (after the quakes in Haiti) sleeping a little better. It's not pretty, but Americans have an existence where they still get to THINK about where they wanna go. There are too many places in the world where you can't afford to ponder because circumstances push to hard.

Still, the inevitable reality is that at our pace, resources for daily living will raise in value. We'll buy less for more and share with those we love until days are added to stretch our endurance over sickness and starvation. The homeless know it but they aren't the ones with the chance to change it. Those that due will be surprised and by the time a plan swells there'll be no more money to make a change. How long is it before we lose the right to THINK about what's right to do NOW?

I'm contemplating . . . The American Dream is also called economic mobility. It means a bloodline can rise in status and become more affluent with each emerging generation. This assumes people can make more money than they need so that each generation to come after will have a launching pad to reach their own loftier goals.

Americans in general (not the wealthy who understand the worth of risk, or immigrants who get nice gift basket upon entry, or the homeless whom generally deteriorate if it isn't for some saving grace the current populace is loathed to spare) spend more than they earn. Our economy is evolving on the motion of money that doesn't exist; credit. The false wealth doesn't cut it.

Maybe some service provider or bank figured out one day that if people were earning more than they needed in one lifetime, they could afford to spread a little more out to the world. But now too few, at least from my standpoint, have anything to give anyone; especially their children. The new plague will just be refusal, and if the population is smart they'll withhold their right to reproduce until we get this under control. We can't afford it and it's our responsibility.

I like to imagine the world Ayn Rand built in Atlas Shrugged and wonder if anything like the industrial age will repeat itself. The information age has a lot of technology but too many are just building excess amounts of power without anyone really understanding how it makes us stronger. TB hard drives for what? iPad for what? There's no problem with excess capability if that eventually translates into utility. But when $500 impulse items are abundant, and people are losing their homes because our economy can't support them, then what happens to the pursuit of happiness? What happens to the dream that the lower and middle class have?

The simple solutions of self control and fiscal discipline aren't really educated in schools. Somewhere along the lines policy makers haven't recognized that the majority masses with less money are moving in cycles like cattle. If they have recognized it, they've found justifiable reasons to keep their eyes focused on what the people of power are capable of. These people are fighting for survival as much as everyone else. They do it like they're playing chess. We do it like we're playing monopoly in reverse.

From what Obama says, he believes the country can change itself. He offers his ideas and is fighting for the ideals that I agree America should adopt. He's getting fought on a number of issues because there are entire industries that thrive on impulse, false hope, and depravity. And they do it firstly, because the people that are responsible forgetting themselves caught up in the downward spiral weren't properly warned or educated.

Every man is an industry. Local community issues, good business practice, a little brainstorming on how to offer something of value to someone else at benefit to them and profit to yourself, home-cooking, and pencil/paper ledgers on the financials are the basics. Be conscious of where you are, be vigilant, start small. Get involved and make smart decisions, not fearful ones. Don't escape. DON'T. Every time an American looks away, is another lifetime in future generations a child will be faced with the prospect of starvation or murder or some rich-kid heir will hang himself out of depression and boredom (as if there were no purpose great enough for his opportunity at education and application). It's already happened in the ghettos and the suburbs. The decline of the dollar is mutating our disposition as Americans.

The Dream needs protecting, and through all my generalizations I realize that much. The headlines in the papers don't give much hope. It's all finger-pointing. The leaders won't do it. Law isn't a substitute for habit. It's time to look inward. Money doesn't make the world go round, the opportunity to make it does. If you can't find it, you've got to make it.

What are we supposed to do?

I let this question fly. It's important. Within the news, the poetry, the documentaries are the keys to breaking down the subtle destruction of our country's economic condition, and redisigning mobility for our people. There is no dramatic upset included, just a leveling out. Let the nature of a man's ingenuity be the force behind his wealth, not the level of sophistication in which he chooses to rape his neighbor. The wealthy are dying, the seeds that they have planted have simply inherited their mess. There is an opening for new minds to set the pace, rectify the damage, protect the pursuit that was intended for us since the beginning.

But still, the question begs an answer: What are we supposed to do?

The ratio of debt to income stability is staggering. The family is the American unit and it is weak. The rich have little to complain about because they do not see the landslide spilling beneath them, at least the majority don't or they don't respect the implication.

The power lies in recognition and adjustment and that is given usually, to the desperate or the prepared. In each community in NYC, there are thousands of strangers, many of which accepting the consequences of actions that betray the reality of their influence on the current state of affairs; myself included. Life is a state of ambivalence when leadership is expected as an external experience. I'm not sure how many families discuss the power of individuality or the responsibility of existance, but with how many unguided children are out there today, how can it be a majority?

A legacy exists in the strength of endeavor passed through gut and pride of a father to his son, the emotional clarity and elegance of a mother to her daughter, the cross fertilization of logic and sensitivity to children of the opposite sex, the product of sensible effort in the form of surplus and security, and most importantly: worth as a direct consequence of love. What hasty decision can be made when an utterly true appreciation of the moment's gravity is laid bare?

...I just saw "Maxed Out." It's a documentary about debt. Not just individual debt but it's relation to our economy, our country, and the downward spiral of the common citizen. People are dying, money is being used crazily to avoid late interest payments while a host of sensible programs are diminished or cut altogether, not least of which is our own social security. I have family that will never be able to retire and I fear for being forced to work in an environment without protection, without options, without a chance for relief when my bones are far too old.

Our generation is stepping into position. We should be curageous. We should be honest. We should not gamble with life, especially the lives of others. Deliberation of cause is never folly when the future is at stake. No environment should be an excuse to fail at humanity.

Some cycles are meant to be interrupted. They just need to be wrong.