[322] Better Than My Last Title

I think every living entity is an extension of the universe trying to understand itself.

This is why I have no real conception of right and wrong outside of a specific context. I think every little particle and mystical thing you can say about every individual cell or network of particles we consist of speaks to something so magnificently grandiose that it’s hilarious and the height of folly to pretend like, as the subjects, we’ll understand like the experimenter.

No. this doesn’t mean I believe in a god. This means I think reality is so unbelievably and ridiculously nuanced and convoluted that at most we’ll ever be able to do is “heal the world” or “developed a perpetuating species.”

It sounds vague, vein, egotistical, and cunty when I, at some seriously creepy and fuck me level, feel like I have nothing left to learn. Knowledge is never complete. I don’t mean that I genuinely understand everything. I simply mean, I don’t know what else I need to live a happy or fulfilled life nor what I’d wish for other people.

I regard myself as a relative sociopath. Once you swallow that you get to think about how I manage to have brilliantly amazing friends, a girl more than merely worth “love’ in my life and all the things that come along with being kinda cute and kinda smart. It’s not a secret that you should live for other people, that you should care and sacrifice and worry about and invest and bloody hell make the people you believe in the center of your world.

Everything just feels obvious.

Just because you have a stupid opinion doesn’t mean it isn’t a position an inquisitive and infinitely unbiased universe can’t or wouldn’t want to consider. It’s impossible to judge, no matter how much cheap gratification I will likely continue getting from doing so the rest of my life.

Of course I’m comfortable. Of course I’m taken care of. Of course there are people in my life I can rely on. Of course I can manage. Of course I’m smart enough to “fix” something.

KISS…keep is simple you fucking retard. Kiss. So much is involved with a kiss. Make your message a kiss. Let it be known and proud. Bring other people to the moment. Let it excite and let it linger. Make them laugh and crave and push for more. Put your neck into it! Wish for the awkward and hard so your path can become that much clearer. Double down when they think it’s time to pull away.

Everyone’s a fucking poet. Anyone wanna help me figure out how the fuck I’m to go about doing what all I mean?

[321] In The Jungle

Maybe I go positive. My friends are all smart and motivated; of course they will find jobs or areas to live in that will make them exceedingly happy. Any time there’s been a problem there have been conversations abound that recalculate what it means to appreciate and enjoy each other. Isn’t there something or another about forgiveness and trust that you can say about your best friends? Whether it’s the looks or the attitudes or the general inquisitive and productive natures, there’s something special there worth defending and touting. The dignity and love that comes from choosing your family is incalculable.

Maybe I go neutral. People are a social animal. For better or worse when we share resources or gain a sense of comfort and security, we form tribes that can meet those needs. There is a “healthy amount” of in-group out-group dynamic that plays out depending on access to monetary and time resources and shared mutual interest. Each person fills some form of sexual or emotional roll to varying degrees which can become hotly contested during bouts of miscommunication or alienation. While it is easy to see the strength of the whole, it’s a point of vast intrigue as to how some pups would fare alone in the wild.

Maybe I sound cold. Regardless of what you wish or want, people will be swayed by their stresses more than their ideas. Your friends will start to phrase things in such ways that makes you wish they’d just lie. They’ll leave when they want to be around people. They’ll settle on anyone when they feel too alone. They’ll settle on practical over fulfillment because bills after all. They’ll kill all of their time making little excuses, little concessions, until you no longer recognize each other. Everyone will double down on what it means to judge to make the breaks easier. Life will get to them, they’ll get old, they’ll forget and they’ll regret.

[320] Moving Right Along

I think there are times when your true self can really shine. One thing I’ve tried to consistently shy away from is a growing habit of being one way or another. I’ll allow myself to be awkward or shy or dumb. It helps to keep me in check. It’s one thing to have a perspective and completely another to be dominated by it. It’s not cool to be too cool nor should you ever consider yourself that smart. If you choose to capitalize on one thing, do you dare forget what you may be sacrificing?

In a sense, it’s rather boring having your priorities in order. There doesn’t appear to be much wiggle room for some “crazy shit” to just happen or some new worthwhile memory to sneak itself in. Like, I’ve always pretty much hated the bar scene. I don’t mind a fuck ton of drunk people or loud music. I’ve just never understood spending a shit ton of money to be around people who are significantly prettier in the dark on the off chance you’ll find the right words to fuck a girl you’re not totally but just enough into.

You can look at a bar scene as a microcosm in power playing. Are you sporting the right look? Can you bring the right comments or perfectly time your smile? It’s just not exciting, or meaningful, or even a challenge. I may have to severely reevaluate my whore status when I have someone cute practically thrown at me and it’s like “eh, but what does this say about me?”

When I experience anxiety, it comes from not making up my mind. I know how to handle myself in a violent situation. I know what needs to be said or not during a bar hook up, and I can talk my way into them laughing at me when the cops show up. Anxiety comes from confusion. It’s who I’m going to be in this moment and why. Luckily, I sort of default to a kind of boring lame representation if only to quell potential drama, but I’m very not convinced that will consistently win out as time goes on.

I wonder how, even with the potential anxiety of not making up my mind, that I have such a sense of self. Why do I consider myself worthy of or pursuing a purpose? What clicked with me to find a sense of responsibility to myself or to different people in my life? This especially with the ability and…temptation?...to be any number of other things. Yet I can always rely on myself when things get “serious.”

Even to presumed friends, if you want to start flitting with a line, it doesn’t matter my mood, my mind finds itself prepared to be the worse person you know. This always happens. I never am without a comment or a prepared course of action if things get “serious.” I suppose the thinking tactician would try to catch me off guard in a questionable middle ground, but fuck you I just pointed it out so it can’t be that vulnerable

Do you get opportunities to show your “true” self? Do you see the flicker of what’s really happening deep inside presented to you as an opportunity to display it for the rest of the world? I’ve always fashioned myself as someone who seems to see that potential in people. Of course, I never like to bring it up or discuss it with them as it just sort of spoils the fun and alters the future. I need to make sure Marty McFly’s mom gets fucked by the right guy or things get complicated.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be “smart” or “too smart” or “insane.” I like the quote about technology advancing to a point where if you couldn’t really understand it, it would be tantamount to magic. I’d like to think people can operate this way as well. I really hesitate to consider myself smart, but I’m totally onboard with toying with insane or different. And in the right context, it really doesn’t matter. What does it mean to have a potentially megalomaniacal understanding of something you don’t really want anything to do with? Are your talents even worthwhile or just a cumbersome hiccup in your ability to cope?

I don’t do enough and I don’t know when I’ll feel like I do. I haven’t learned enough for the sake of learning, I haven’t given enough for the sake of giving, and I certainly haven’t been able to project an envisioned lifestyle to the extent I think it deserves. Every little side road decision is a joke when I think about all that I’m not doing. Of course I didn’t fuck the girl at the bar, of course I didn’t cut that friend down when they pushed, of course I landed on a few more words stated slightly differently a few more times.  

[319] Brain Dump, Still Dumping

Brain Dump: Still Dumping

I think there’s wisdom in letting problems resolve themselves. When I have problems, which is rare, they usually aren’t even real. Given that perspective, I have to do practically nothing in order for them to go away. What’s more taxing than problems are responsibilities. Those were at least choices you made to be something or someone towards something. Anything resembling stress in my life comes from perhaps adopting too many abstract responsibilities.

I find it odd how little or different it is when I think of “moral quandaries.” It’s never so much that I can’t, or shouldn’t. It usually boils down to what I’m going to have to do in the wake of a decision in order to display a message I want. I think a lot of people would find this idea troubling. I also think they are potentially weak of imagination. To not see that the power comes from what you choose not simply your ability to do so is sad.

As a tool, I suppose I’m explicitly after power. I like shit to get done and make sense. Things just run smoother when people allow you the power over them to move the mountain where you want it. I think there is a difference in a pursuit of power for a goal, and being psychologically dominated by an overwhelming need to feel powerful. I’m well-rehearsed in withdrawing. I don’t need to talk a little louder or puff my chest out to make it clear to all the swinging cocks in the room.

Why would I choose to do otherwise? The nature of choice is at the very least precarious. Nature verses nurture, your environment against your philosophy. What if it’s simply a capacity dictated by your ability to resonate with the pattern and consequences? To say, I’ve seen this enough times, in all likelihood if X then Y, therefore my decision to do otherwise.

The sickest thing I think about what I want to accomplish in the future is that it won’t leave things any better. It won’t matter what I create or who I help or what I teach, it will be the minority to some psychological problem or system of government or form of disaster. In that way, it makes it extremely selfish. All I need to do is prove to me. If I’m so far up my own ass, I better impress or what the fuck am I doing here, right? Of course there are people I admire, but even there one must tread lightly. Like, let your favorite band play music, never hear them out about politics. It can also be a breeding grown for cynicism.

I don’t think as a society we talk enough about what it means to be bored. These hookers at the point and addicts on black tar heroin inevitably say they got bored. They wanted to try something new. They used to have all these things going for them, but something just wasn’t clicking for them. Is it not when we’re bored and alone that anxious or depressed feelings start to kick in? Don’t they refer to it as “not being stimulating enough” when you’re the smart kid who should be moved up a few grades? If we thought of boredom as a kind of withdrawal, maybe we could better identify what we’re addicted to.

I used to really hate catch-all phrases or clichés to describe things. It didn’t occur to me that they have a utility as a kind of short hand between two people who’ve had shared or similar experiences. “Bitches be crazy.”

I sometimes feel like I get away with murder. It’s a license I grant myself, and while it only goes so far, it usually goes farther than a “normal” person would allow themselves. I don’t play hood or gangster. I don’t want little tear drop tattoos or to be so used to pain and oppression that I have nothing to lose. I just want to borrow from that world a form of the disposition when it’s needed. When you use something in earnest, it’s hard to argue that it’s not real. This does not apply for magic sky daddies.

I’m hoping brand dumping will put me on the trail of a genuine problem. I’ve felt inexplicably on track for an exceedingly long amount of time. I’m not looking for something to go wrong mind you, but something is always wrong, so why can’t I seem to find the words to talk about it? We all know this country is getting scary and I don’t want to be here anymore. I know how I want to spend my time and money. I know who I feel responsible for and to. I’m not sick. All of my friends are being weird, but I chalk that up to the lesson we’ve previously learned at how terrible they are at solving problems that aren’t problems. Time will win.

I don’t like being told I’m not happy. It feels like an insult. How could someone be so blind? Why would they project their problem? It’s such an antithetical point to the truth. There’s always a capacity to be happier, but to throw it in someone’s that they aren’t happy, trying to drag them down with you, is more than distasteful. It’s this sharing in mutual squalor and misery that allows people an excuse to stay there. After all, it’s where the parties at. Look at all the new excuses and personal, untouchable, truths and reasons for being so. My advice is to tread likely before you diagnose my disposition or I’ll help myself to dictating yours.

What does it mean to regard something as an opportunity? Is it a kind of wish fulfillment? You always wanted a stable job, so one shows up and you take it regardless of the details? You see yourself “growing” as a person because you gain the wisdom of the most jaded in your field? I think we shift and morph, not grow. You can find wise people at any age given what they’ve had to endure or what they discovered in living through it. I don’t think I’m after some peak. There is no “ultimate Nick P.” For “better” or “worse” I’ll simply be the sum total of my experiences.  The ever present choice is what matters.

[318] Brain Dump

I just want to brain dump. No promise of continuity or clarity.

I think I define stupid differently from most people. I think it’s stupid to not understand your life under a greater backdrop. If something feels super awesome and compelling in a moment, or even for a period of time, I think to consider it in a bubble is naïve. I think I see a lot of people get hurt and defensive when they do this. I also think that just because you can “get by” behaving a stupid way, it doesn’t mean it’s justified, healthy, or worthwhile. I think this applies frequently to relationships, but also with work and the varying degrees of drama you’re willing to put up with from friends or yourself.

I think I often understand where people are coming from and simply can’t make myself respect it. I’m rarely convinced, not so much that someone isn’t thinking it through, but that they’re sacrificing a kind of understanding about themselves or the context for the short term satisfaction. Yes, this can apply to myself as well, but I’m biased towards my reasoning and generally don’t catch flak when I explain the details behind a seemingly contradictory action or position. I’m ever unimpressed when I challenge someone to do the same. It’s confusing why you have to get so angry.

I think I get lost in the details of trying to talk to people when I’m not positive what my voice is. I adopt so many hats to fit a situation, I endlessly find a way around or the proper tone or do whatever it takes that to presume I have a sort of solid-state of identity starts to become ludicrous. The best thing I can do to help define myself is in the things I do or the company I keep. Clearly some form of agenda makes itself present by what you enable. It’s because of this I don’t feel lost, but it’s no less a distraction when I scrutinize every word when all I had to do was get the point across.

I wonder to what degree my capacity to be a loner affects my relationships. I certainly make clear lines and experience different levels of comfort depending on who I’m around and for how long. But I wonder if there’s something psychologically deeper going on. I think more intriguing the idea that other people could perceive a change when my mind goes to cavernous secret space. I’m also happy that being a loner doesn’t mean feeling alone. No matter what I do, I never feel just isolated. In fact, a feeling of isolation prompts a kind of freedom to start exploring.

I’m quite intrigued by the concept of a “voice.” It harps on ideas of an identity or soul or some timeless essence. It doesn’t matter when you hear it, it can apply to different things at different points, and if you’re familiar with where it came from you can identify it “naturally.” I think the only way to have a voice is to use it frequently. If you’re not saying anything, people can’t even pretend to grasp where you’re coming from. I also think you need to act in line with what you say. When you’re real world examples line up so nicely with your words, it builds trust and integrity and you’re given a form of power.

I think people crave power, but only because they feel helpless. It’s always kind of disturbing to me when I see what lengths people are willing to go to essentially mimic the failed positions of their predecessors. There’s only real power is foregoing being a slave to it. Again, it’s being effortless. When you make a decision, roll with it. When you make a friend, stick to them.  If you create something, stand by and celebrate it. To take pride in your journey allows you to focus on making the most of it without endless re-contextualizing in lieu of unrealized and unreasonable futures.

I’m marginally concerned that nothing I do or say regarding time will translate to other people. Money can always be made, stuff can always be bought or acquired, time you never get back. I don’t think other people think about time like that. I think time is like a puzzle people try to fill in well in advance. I’ll get married here, I’ll get promoted here, I’ll have kids here, I think a vacation around this time would be nice, maybe around the year 2030 I’ll be able to do this. I think this is small. I think it’s somehow psychologically comforting and provides a false sense of security. I think it locks you into a box of limited potential when the reality is infinite.

The non-respect thing plays heavily into my psychological capacity to do things. Your “manager” title means nothing to me. Your official stature or professional air doesn’t resonate.  Surely, for practical reasons I don’t tell you this or treat you differently, but god forbid you catch a glimpse of my eyes or smile. What sucks is that I wouldn’t mind actually being told what to do by someone who really had a grasp of what they were doing. It’s not that I merely hate taking orders, it’s simply the vast majority of orders I’ve taken have been ill-timed, wastes of effort, or utter bullshit.

I also think about the idea of “different” or “special.” Again, these only make sense in a context or relative timeframe, but I’m speaking about something more than circumstantial difference. Of course every one of my friends is different, but who’s really different. As far as I know, I’m the only one who semi-consistently yells fuck in a crowded room or concerns myself with “fixing the world.” Who are the Jeremy Gotwals' and Mickey Woods that can be used as definers of the genre. I have similar friends who want to own businesses or hold similar ideas about relationships. At that level then I have a group of really different people against the world at large.  In a band, you have maybe a hundred people who play an instrument, but who’s the musician and why?

I remember what it was like to have an amazing memory and endless focus. When I thought you could simply explain to religious people all the things they didn’t know, I learned a ton and I learned fast. You develop habits that beget more knowledge and you have default methodologies to engaging with people who don’t even understand they’re entering the conversation at a predictable and calculable level. Whether your measuring their disposition, their ability to concede, their insistence on a particular point, or some overall idea regardless of the details, when you engage enough, you know where it can go or not.

That period reminds me of my capacity, but it’s spoiled my present. I don’t need to learn anymore that people are intractable. I’m sold. As much as it sometimes makes me sick, people will pull on their feelings before they count something. The world literally looks to me like, “hey, there are 4 beans in this jar” and someone tells me “no no no, because I feel like this or want to define ‘bean’ differently there’s really only 3.”

And I know people think that I’m trying to exude a kind of ego or dominance or maybe intellectual certitude. I really have no defense against that. I don’t know how to sound less that way when I’m not making a personally compelling argument. I don’t lead with “I feel like.” I reference studies or numbers. Those make people feel bad; therefore, I’m missing the hidden specialness of their position.

I hate the idea of people knowing they are hiding more than the hiding itself. It’s one thing to grow up afraid or strangled by a context that you don’t know any better. This is why I hate the smart people. They make more excuses and justifications than any idiot. Idiot’s just roll with it and think it’s matter-of-fact. Smart people know they’re being ridiculous and then hide. They know they’re being dishonest and try to employ guilt for poking at their system or some other form of straw-man. That’s where you find a true definition of hypocrisy.

[317] Less Than Average

Because I’m marginally frustrated and it’s stupid to drink this early in the morning, I want to run with a few ideas.

I think our expectations beget almost as much of our reality as our actions. That is to say, when you expect a certain standard, and you hold true to it, you do in fact raise yourself or your environment to that standard. In a world dominated by average, disengaged, or disenfranchised people, the standard will always remain “average.” It is in dealing with this pervasive proclivity of man that I get frustrated.

Why bother doing anything? If you’re doing it wrong, it’s going to suck, it’s going to just make peoples’ lives shittier, why bother doing it? Maybe there was a quick profit to be made. Surely I could conjure up many short term goals where the long term impact is written off. But what does that say about you? Are we really a species of sociopaths or utterly un-empathetic beings hell bent on causing destruction? This seems unlikely; the standards are just so low.

I could learn endlessly and get paid constantly by people picking up their phones or answering emails. For a species so socially networked, we’re really good at ignoring each other. I have these conflicting parts in me that wants to get everything done “now now now,” yet, I realize at the pace the world operates, I could scale back 2 nows and be light years ahead of “competition.” The only thing that works is people on the same page. When you have to go too far outside of your circle, you have to hold too many hands; all you get is a lot of time filled with a lot of bullshit.

I barely have any opinions. That is to say, I’m always ready to change my mind. By the time I’m prompted to make a sweeping statement, I’ve probably run the same experiment 20 times. I hate Best Buy, but not before going there and being disappointed in 20 different ways. I may think something about a person, but it’s usually after they get the chance to show their ass in every interaction I’ve been with them. “My world” therefore, mostly consists of what I have a hard time being persuaded otherwise as objective facts. They are facts about happiness, facts about efficiency, facts about social or political structures, and facts about consequences. They are always limited by our human shell and perspective, but for all pragmatically concerned can be regarded as facts.

Fact, when you have an answerable question, you’d more like to have it answered than not. When talking with someone, it doesn’t feel good to get railroaded and ignored. When you have an expectation or want to get a job done, it is disappointing when things go opposite of said expectations. When you are paying someone for a service, you expect to get said service. Mind blowing stuff so far, right? Maybe 1/30 customer service lines I’ve ever called have figured these things out.

I have no memory for names or even simple meaningless tasks at a part-time job, until I need to. When the keys are thrown at me and they say “surprise you’re responsible for this and that” it’s amazing how fast the light switch turns on. But that’s me. Can you just throw the keys at people and expect things to go well? My hunch is to say fuck no. Is it taught, a personality, or a learned facet of a personality? How do you raise the standard? How do you find more people you can throw keys at and say “you’ll figure it out?”

I get the sense that everyone is just sort of waiting around to die. There’s like a handful of people who really want to be here and see things change and grow and work, and the rest of the world just wants to die. How can they give a fuck about you or your ideas when they have to keep in mind to hit the liquor store before they get home? What concern is it of theirs your political or philosophical theory, they never expected to own such a fine shit hole in the woods or keep offspring alive as long as they have. We are an infantile circumstantial species. We don’t recognize our impact and just sort of flow with the shitty environments we’ve been born into. Look no further than how we participate in a “democracy.”

I think there is enough access to resources in this country. They maybe aren’t being allocated as well, but I think most people most of the time can get by with what even our poor people do. I hear from anyone wanting the things I do. In fact, I only ever alienate people when I hint at the things I want. This is my whole life, so I’m going to figure I’m a bit different. Either way, it’s why I think there’s a greater, consistently more fucked psychological problem. And, I think the dumber you are, the obviously less equipped you are to deal with your potential psychological issues.

I’ve lost count of my friends with diagnosed depression. I roll with a smart crowd. There’s something more pervasive than “everyone’s dumb.” I’ve also lost count of the number of people who’ve grown up in some form of an abusive household. Like, what’s it take to get 2 mentally healthy people to find each other? I think my perspective on people, to treat them like animals, has helped me. There’s obviously more nuance, but not that much nuance, to the human psyche. They’re irrational and afraid first, you’re sick if you needlessly abuse them, but sometimes they do things in which they need to be given up or put down.

My gut, I mean everything I read all the time, informs me that things are progressively worse each day. Never is the headline “plan to destroy more of the environment nixed out of common sense.” More headlines you never see: “Scientists consulted on new energy plans to save country billions.” “War ended because people realized they don’t want to needlessly die or kill noncombatants.” “Congressman sites philosophers/economists in brilliant appeal against bill.” It’s more drones, more weapons, more fear mongering, more lies and doublespeak, more propaganda, more gossip, more surveillance, more destruction and war all around….at least in this country.

[316] Dainty Ogre Gold-Plated Pitchfork Collectors

I’d like to talk about objectification and hypocrisy, and man, is shit gonna be magic. I’m a firm believer in nailing down terms, and the ladies, to make sure we grasp just what it is we mean when we pull those little buggers from our arsenal.

Let’s start with objectifying. I was recently accused of objectifying people and merely being “kind of a doosh” when it came to interacting with people. While I would hardly deny my potential doosh tendencies, it dose sting a little when it comes from someone that you previously liked more than a little.

So I got to thinking about objectifying, what it really means. We are comprised of potentially invigorating or objectionable tendencies or attributes. To regard them, that is, to take them under consideration, can be made to be understood as “objectifying.” Are we not objects? A hand severed from a body, is a hand. Do you speak of the soul of the hand? Do you characterize its personality? I challenge a single one of you to describe the Adams’ family hand as boisterous or intractable.

I think to find someone, or something about them attractive, is not the same thing as to treat them as a train set. It’s not the same kind of enjoyment; it’s not irrespective of the being attached to those attributes. I mean, please, we live in the internet age. A body without a face or a little backstory might as well be another pilled on in a Holocaust grave. I don’t feel guilty pointing out the luck you had in not being born looking like Gollum. If I based how I treated all people or made moralistic or impractical judgments because of my innate gag reflex, then yes, that’s pretty terrible. But to pretend that’s what it’s about because I offer a compliment…like, weak.

Then I think what if I was objectified. How shitty do I feel when someone likes or doesn’t the curls in my hair? What if they don’t like a tummy verses a six pack? What if I’m too tall, too hairy, or too dead in the eyes to pop their clit right from behind their jeans? I still have to accept their judgment. I have to make myself feel icky. I have to deny my history, my proclivities, my understanding, and my current reality and validate that opinion. Who in their right mind thinks there is much utility or purpose in “objectifying” people? Make jokes and comments all day; unfortunately I’m past the point I’m going to throw it in your face like I’m on the defensive.

So I’m sure this can tie into hypocrisy somehow right? If you adopt an over-reaching conception of change, hypocrisy can’t exist. For in order to contradict yourself, you need to have a hard-lined perpetual self to stand in contrast to. You need to be saying “I am this unshakeable idea at the same time I am this unshakeable idea,” which just seems naïve and unreasonable. I think it’s too easy to be a hypocrite. It speaks to why I hate the word love. You can plaster it on anyone and anything just given your small perspective on who they are.

I think changing your mind, evolved philosophy, and personal indignation mascaraed as hypocrisy. People don’t like your reasons, they don’t understand your reasons, but very simply, you can’t stand in utter contrast to how you actually believe and are behaving. You’re no more a hypocrite than you are non-existent. For ideas and potential to be challenging or nuanced, is not the same thing as them contradicting your being. Like, every time I don’t make a fat joke within ear shot, is that hypocritical, or just smart and kinda nice?

Also, if you don’t have a grasp of the subject you’re bound to look “hypocritical” about, the judgment goes even farther out the window. You can’t even define the terms! You have a small and shifting position. Now that you’ve gained a perspective or managed to have something invested, it’s time to demonize you as a hypocrite? Maybe you’re just learning. Maybe you’ve just brushed against something that you never knew you needed to be informed about. Maybe you’re just utterly fucking terrible at arguing or laying out what it is you actually think. Then, you could even be made out as a hypocrite for getting smarter!

I think it’s important for me to suss out what I mean by these terms because I anticipate my life changing dramatically. Whether it’s getting paid massive amounts of money for making phone calls, or deciding to reorganize my social structure, to the untrained eye, it’ll be, hell, to any eye, it’ll be really easy to just judge and feel and make all sorts of blah blah blah comments about. Here’s my offer of insight. If it clicks in your head, we’re money. If not, well, fuck it I tried, guess it’s not that important anyway, right?

[315] This House Is Not A Home

I’m bad in that I expect things. I expect myself to hold certain standards and ideas about myself. While seemingly all of my friends struggle with things like crippling depression or personal insecurities, I’m poised with my finger over the button that initiates the perfect time to helicopter dick in the middle of the mall, and laugh maniacally about it. My potential for seemingly endless or reckless joy knows no bounds. I genuinely don’t feel like the common hang-ups of life really apply to me. I attempt to think around them and live in a world that allows me to expect things. Yet, I find I’m ever humbled by my naïve expectations.

It’s one of those things that speak to why I call myself a loner. No amount of friends really means they grasp or even want to pretend to grasp how or why I think something. Even if they agree, it’s hardly ever “Nick P., that makes a lot of sense, I’m going to try to start doing that right now too.” This doesn’t mean that every habit or potentially good idea I have can be adopted over night, but there is a certain kind of person and a certain kind of mindset that behaves like mine. Ask Byron about it.

What I suppose bugs me the most is my inability to quell the anger. It’s not even that I don’t expect the things that come. But even seeing things coming for years will get to me. The failing expectation in that moment is that “things could be making more sense.” In actuality, the moment is playing out in a way I would consider nonconstructive, caddy, or pathetic. It gets even better when people like to play the vague fool. Well I didn’t know, well I thought you thought, didn’t so and so tell you, it’s not about this it’s about that, why can’t you understand where I’m coming from…

I think it speaks to what makes life feel like perpetual punishment. Like you always get to be self-conscious or on edge about something because even when you try to be well or plan right, it’s always with the bombs going off around you. The only thing that calls for a cease fire is firmly planting yourself in an environment that’s theoretically above all the explosions. I like to think of that environment as my friends, but to carry the analogy further, I feel offered up as a meat shield with the mindset “he can take it” often enough I don’t really know where to go but to be kind of dead inside.

No, this doesn’t mean woe is me; it’s more of the perpetual “fuck-everything” air I adopt when things go stupidly for stupid reasons. Like, of course I’ll find new roommates and figure out a way to keep saving money, and run my shit, and do side jobs and whatever else. Of course I will. I’m Nick P. I don’t need the respect to be talked to deliberately. I shouldn’t expect honest conversations or assessments about the how or why I influence people’s lives or try to provide for a certain kind of lifestyle. That has nothing to do with it, Nick P. If you don’t first and forever remember people do things for generally irrational or selfish reasons, then consider the fallout after, you’re setting yourself up to get pissed off again.

I suppose I always fall back to the expectations of myself. I expect I know how to treat people in situations that are going poorly. I expect I know how I’ll find a way out of it. I expect to polish the jaded shell and work out all the commentary in jokes that hit a little too close that I laugh a little too long about. That’s fine. I think I’m lucky that I have standards. I’m lucky I have people in my life that I can point to as examples of what I respect and what I want everyone to be like. When you’re “on my bad side” it has nothing to do with you, you’re just like the rest. You don’t have the capacity to understand what I seek in a friend. That’s your choice and I hope it makes you feel comfortable.

[314] As Straightly As I Can Put It Up There

 To be, or not to be, those are the inclinations. I feel for like an exceedingly long time, I’ve had every topic under the sun actively on my mind, with no real way to approach them. But, alas a moment of clarity ensued, and in a stout matter-of-factness, I’ll begin exploring.

I think there’s an undeniable psychological impact tied to money. Look back not 2 or 3 blogs ago and I’m sure (maybe) I’ve made reference to or status about having $10 in the bank and slowly picking away at the cans of salt to eat in the pantry. Fast forward with a part time job and side jobs, I feel like the king of the slums; this even more so because I don’t have any debt.

I think about the projects I want to do in the future and the potentially sickening amount of money it would take to do them well. Then I think about the bureaucracy and greed that positions money into the hands of powers with concerns deliberately antithetical to mine. Then I think of the little rays of sunshine meant to boost or disguise actual moods or perspectives trying to reinforce that the world is still good from time to time. Then I inevitably get stuck thinking about time, and how maddeningly long it takes to change things even and though they will always eventually.

Then I try to scale problems up and down. Will I run into a lack of data, a bad philosophy, a saboteur, the cash runs out, the timing is off, or did too many players break too many legs? Should I focus on how I feel? How I fit? How it translates? What I thought going into it? Is it my perspective or intention that matters? Is it my message or what people do with it? Is it either/or, and if not why have I resolved myself to something so obscure?

I rely on cause and effect. Just as being broke was my choice, an inevitability of listening to the sick feeling in my gut at the idea of applying to be told to ring out drunks and move boxes from one end of the room to another, taking the cash and “stumbling” into various other opportunities were choices as well. I haven’t cured what I feel; I simply pick what I’m going to do about it.

I’m not necessarily worried, but I think this is going to get me in a bit of trouble. When I stop feigning a concern for the consequences, well, practice something long enough…I feel I will be more explicit in petty things and more aggressive in things that matter. The trouble is simply picking up all the ruffled feathers.

I think I’ve adopted the ultimate freedom in “winging it.” I’ve been trying to analogize this for weeks. Absolute control of reckless abandonment. Steering the stream sweeping you along. Resolved to the infinitely possible. Real hippie shit, right? But in a weird way, I feel I give myself more room to wiggle by constraining myself to different aspects of my previously peripheral worlds. I don’t know if they felt so suffocating because they’d grown unfamiliar, or if I hadn’t had a chance to experience them with the hat of new experience. Reliably, I don’t feel complacent.

The idea of an “infinite consequence” intrigues me. It would hint at a purpose, maybe even a soul. I think some of my moral sensibilities stem from a concern with this idea. Why I sneak in a good deed for a random stranger from time to time. Why I’d like to believe I’m only corruptible to a certain point. I wonder if there are real capacities and propensities more than just probabilities. Are we doomed to be stupid and evil and inventing new ways to draw cartoons face palming? Or is that just the most likely from the context? I’m so disturbed by context.

[313] Undercover Brother

To be human is to struggle. It’s the core of life. You have to find food and companionship. You’re lucky if you’re entertained or just weren’t born with a particular defect. I’m shaken to my core when I see what people are meant to cope with. Everything about our psychology and decision making seems to be rooted in various coping mechanisms. We desperately need to escape; we absolutely need something to believe in that is greater than our current lot in life.

For the first time since it aired I started watching Undercover Boss. CEO’s taking on the minimum wage jobs and finding out the working world little resembles bitching people out over the phone and holding meetings. I’m disturbed by it because I find it emotionally jarring. It uses the emotionality of hearing about the health conditions of an employee’s family member, or will detail their financial woes. At the end the CEO usually gives a raise or a check, there’s plenty of tears, and we’re supposed to believe “things are gonna change round here!”

I read a critique of the show explaining that even if the CEO decided the employees needed higher wages or truly did find a new appreciation for what happens on the ground floor, the company the reviewer was talking about was publicly traded. The board decides just how much labor they think needs to be squeezed. The financial, business, and government institutions loom in the background despite the CEO’s “Christian principles” or how many tears they cry for their associates living in homeless shelters.

Everyone has that story though. Everyone has a sick relative, is in massive debt, or found an asshole to marry or knock them up. Everyone needs just a little bit more money, a little bit more time, just one person to look out for them. I feel like it’s dumb to even ask “are people happy” when the closer you look you wonder what would ever give you the impression that they should be. Are these CEO’s not small-minded enough to realize that no matter how much money thrown at specific employees they met, they’re not fundamentally changing the lives of thousands of other employees? They’re not changing the business culture, they just went into it to find out why Connecticut stores were failing only to be blindsided by real people with real problems.

If all you can do is cope, how insultingly silly does it sound to try and talk of happiness? So many, too many people are willing to work ridiculously hard to even scrape by in life. I don’t see a culture that respects or understands that. These businesses all talk about their hundreds of stores and how their poised to get even bigger. I know the amount one store can waste, let alone what’s just numbers on a balance sheet when you manage hundreds. But that’s business culture. Get bigger, make more money.

One of these CEO’s turned alcoholic before we switched to a new CEO role. Even at the top you can find time to ignore your family and get down on yourself. But I wonder what “hell” he had to go through being able to afford the kind of health services that would allow him to carry on in life.

I try to get people to focus on the reasons they should be happy. I want someone to actually espouse something. I don’t want to hear a survivalist mantra; I’m fairly convinced that’s more genetic code than positive philosophy. But how can I expect it? What tools besides my “ignore all the fucks guide” to my thoughts can or should I contribute?

But this is why I’m after culture. I think there are a lot of people with a lot to give and that the better demons of our nature, when ignored, carry on in a demonic fashion. It’s not just equal pay, it’s a fundamental understanding and respect of what it means to be human and work hard. What it means to earn something and respect that someone deserves it. These CEOs can’t operate a forklift, but because they can bitch a little louder about shipping discrepancies, they deserve 100 times more an hour?

As someone who considers himself always happy and always angry, I feel like a fool. If both make sense conditionally, and the conditions exist at the same time, how could I ever advocate for one without the other? If the happiness and pride you take from your shitty job keeps you going back to it every day, and you stay fed, or your kids are provided for, what else should I expect? But what does it say about life that we’re, theoretically so advanced, that we still have to treat our special times as “an escape?” Nothing in my life compares to the average person’s day to day level of bullshit, and if it does, I’ve somehow managed to boil it down to something or another about balance that shuts me up for a few weeks at a time.

This feels disconnected. There are so many angles that speak to the culture I want changed; the shitty ideas of growth “because,” the fact that you can’t shoot a t-shirt into a crowd and clothe a stadium, the idea that because people are sick it should cripple you or your family’s life. You can have a full time job and still have to live in a homeless shelter. You can know the inside out of your factory and get paid like you genuinely aspire to nothing more than being “kind of homeless.” These are systemic problems, these are culture problems, and they are universally understood as something people wish would change.

You have to undermine the power, provide an alternative, and market ideals that speak to more than the desperate part of a human’s psyche. The bad they’re swallowing isn’t what rounds out the good they teach and preach. So maybe the happiness they muster comes from many places. Maybe there’s an appreciation for their ability to feel it at all. Or maybe it’s just where you go when you hit the bottom. I mean, desperation can be a motivator, but it shouldn’t be an institution.

[312] Land Hooooooo

I will say this as concisely and honestly as I can. I do not seek to judge, I do not pretend to have all or perfect knowledge, and I am not after a fight. I’m writing after many conversations and avenues of feedback, and matching those against my own observations. I hope before feathers are ruffled a conversation can be had, and if it is shown that a ship may be headed in the wrong direction, we can steer it back.

I feel the group dynamic changing. My current theory is that it boils down to how the boys treat the girls. I think there’s a lot of side bar conversations about what someone feels verses where the other person is coming from or if there’s just some over thought or insecurity playing into things. But, ultimately I think those pale in comparison to a kind of respect that seems to be slowly eroding.

I’ve got it in me to be as big a perv as the best of them. Lately though, I find myself turned off to how I hear girls in general talked about, or the endless awkward encounters they seem to find themselves in when relating to our group. I think there is a distance being put between our girl friends’ feelings and the sort of “we’re so hot” persona. Whether it’s an in-group out-group thing related to climbing or fitness, I don’t know.

I can see an overzealous attitude or misplaced confidence push “the group” apart. Particularly when it comes to roping in our girls as one’s in a queue in between Okcupid hookups. I feel like there has been a steadily increasing creepy factor that shrouds the guy/girl interactions. Whether it’s Asher-esc touching where no touching need be, or lingering hugs and deep breaths just because someone’s going to bed or entered the room, there’s a subtext. It’s like Mad Men, enter a room, pour a drink, invite someone into the room, and pour another drink; I’m hammered just watching before 10 am.

I now worry about introducing new people into the group. Where once I was ridiculously proud and interested in what a new cool personality would do around a bunch of cool people, I’m significantly more worried about “the sharks circling.” If I say “hey, I messaged Jen and brought her around” the awkward what-the-hell-are-you-talking about response is to say your percentage match is higher or you’ve spent more time texting or making out with her. I’m not trying to compete, I didn’t message her to eventually fuck, and that gets kind of lost when everyone’s initial response is to caveman the conversation to some level of “dibs.”

I’m concerned because I think the people most likely to pick up on the how and why things are changing are the same one’s we don’t see around as often. I’ve at least been the asshole long enough who can watch and predict that if shit got too wrong I could cut ties and go about my day. But the nice people and the emotionally involved people or the willing to make excuses for you/us people aren’t even up to it anymore.

Confidence, a concern for your health or appearance, and even a good group of friends are no substitute for humility. I don’t even want to pretend like I’m trying to point fingers because I can conjure a good ten reasons, for each of our friends, completely outside what’s been witnessed or talked about that can speak towards how different things have played out. The only “secret” to getting along with people or having a satisfying sex life that I wish wouldn’t get lost is a sense of honesty and respect for how you’re spending that time and who you’re doing it with.

[311] Batting A Thousand

So I’m one of those cool kids. As in, I can “understand” where the other cool kid is coming from and reach this copacetic middle ground where we mutually respect each other’s place in life. Except, fuck them.

For as much as I run a little ringer on people, I really can’t stand when people try to turn it on me. I’m good with being a hypocrite as far as shit’s concerned. Where do you get off me calling you on what you’re doing and your refusal to acknowledge that I’ve seen through you’re little scheme. You little bitch lol.

I feel like I am perpetually open to misrepresentation. It’s frankly habit by now. It really doesn’t matter what you say or how you say it, people will decide to understand you in their terms, and it’s your responsibility to “respect” those terms and follow some form of suit.

Why do I crash “random” peoples’ conversations?

I’m not seeking something new. I don’t think I’m going to learn of some perspective. I really feel like I do it so I can feel sad. So I can connect with the tumultuous failings of people and sort of “re-up” just how fucked it is to think differently than I do.

It sucks because I really feel bad for people. Weird right? I’m all “fuck you and shit” and yet I have this like pain in my stomach that’s like “this can’t be all.”

I don’t like other alleged “cool kids.”

My disposition isn’t terribly of choice. I feel like I got here from thinking too goddamn much and over intellectualizing a process that is only concern with whether or not you manager to nut enough times in some chicks vagina. But at the same time, there’s some semblance of respect given the implications of acting like some amoral node that disregards what it means to be human.

I do get angry. Like, super angry. And I really don’t know how to translate that in a way that doesn’t make it “personal.” Because, it kind of is, but in a more important way really isn’t. I don’t pretend like I’m better. I’m not on some thrown. I’m just confused that we don’t do what makes the most sense. And ya, it pisses me the fuck off.

Just talking to this Indian kid about his experience with relationships tonight is enough. It’s so unbelievably sad. There is no guidebook from taking him out of how bad he’s been fucked. And he’s going to make decisions about life and love from how he got shit on as a teenager. My god. The idea that we’re literally handicapped by the stupid shit we may or may not encounter as kids…

As long as people aren’t happy, fuck us. I don’t want a species to keep on and evolve that’s perpetually sad and despotic. The reasons I don’t believe in us is because of our default attitudes toward life. For every optimist you’ll find a hundred thousand circumstantial pessimists It’s not conversation and logical debate that changes them. I feel hopelessly naïve in believing they might’ve worked.

The secret is not killing yourself. If you find a platform to do what you do that overwhelms the objectively reasonable positions you may take on ending your time here, you may as well be a “god.”

It’s hard to swallow how stupid you are. Like, why the fuck bother inventing words and thinking about things, right? But, at the end of the day, you just have your stupid ideas and your stupid reasons that pretend to grasp the entirety of your position.

[310] Because Guns Are Stupid And I Fucking Hate Everything

Guns were designed to kill. (Pausing to hear the counterargument). If you chose to argue in this space, please stick something big enough to cause a break or bleed in your asshole.

I could give two ever loving fucks, really just ask, if your hobby is to shoot things responsibly. You happen to like something meant and designed to kill, potentially en masse. I don’t give a fuck how much it costs you. I don’t give a fuck if what you had was previously legal and now it’s not. I could cry a fucking river (and that’s a lie) about the paperwork or time you have to spend reloading when your life could be made a pinch easier with a 16 round magazine. AND GOD FUCKING FORBID I CALL IT A CLIP!

On the table currently it is guns, but it doesn't matter. Always there will be the ridiculous, uninformed, emotional, brazen “fuck you” position that stands as an “equal” to what common fucking sense and experience has taught us. I’m so fucking tired.

No one is taught how to argue. People genuinely believe that if they feel strongly enough about something, that is the be all end all precursor to something being legitimate and mattering. Look at Sotomayor's commentary on the Daily Show. “I’m amazed at how passionate everybody is.” She didn't say whether or by what means they would be judged right or wrong. She simply marveled at their “passion.”

So quick are people to offer up their perspective. As if they matter. As if their opinion has the information and nuance to change something. They are nothing! They hate the fact they are nothing, and they scream so loud so that you can make them something. They aren't reporting. They’re sensationalizing. They’re personalizing. They’re actively degrading the lesson and the message in order for it to conform to their conception of entertainment.

I fucking hate everything. I hate the lie. I hate the backdrop we’re supposed to operate under in order to get along with each other. I hate the bastardized conceptions of friends and relationships. I hate the wasted time. I hate the unnecessary stress. I hate the pursuit of what was never personally called upon for the acceptance of what was never personally respected.

Do you have any idea how odd it is to try and survive in a world where you don’t genuinely believe people have a legitimate argument and chance of existing? I so hate the world that as a person, if I was somehow wrought with the ideas of those I hate, I would tell you to exterminate me. I’m so under the impression that you have a choice that you have a fucking ability to step back and assess a situation, ESPECIALLY IN THE GOOGLE AGE, that there is no excuse for sounding like an ignorant peasant “humbly making their way through the world.”

It’s because of this I will always be a loner. I will only and ever connect with people who grasp just how far removed I am from any form of contentedness or happiness with how the majority of life is conducted. So much doesn't matter to me. It is too easy for me to forget people. It is kind of scary just how far I think I would go to actually prove a significant point to a vast amount of people.

I just wish you’d wake up. I wish I didn't have to hate you. It feels like a moral obligation. If there isn't someone so disgusted with the world and the place you hold in it, how dare I consider myself a moral being to exist in it. Please, believe and know my hatred. Dream about how horribly one of your friends thinks about our places in the world. Maybe think about changing something. Maybe give a voice to the same kinds of shit that YOU see wrong as well. Take me from my solipsistic island and start an actual movement. Until then, it’s all fucking stupid, I fucking hate everything, it’s all a joke and pathetic circumstance, and I fucking hate you for pretending otherwise. “Fuck off and die” would only seem appropriate if I ever conceived of you of living.

Sure, I'm taking out my philosophical frustrations on whomever chooses to read, but that's really not the point. Just stop lying. Just stop pretending. Just treat things, and people and yourselves like you should. I'll never express how much I long for death in a world where people pretend otherwise.

[309] The System Is Down

I don’t think I’m smart. It’s simple really. I think I’m significantly more persistent, comfortable, OCD, disregarding, disrespectful, and “honest” than smart. Maybe if there was an equation you could fuck with those variables and get somewhere spelling s.m.a.r.t. but I’m skeptical.

For as much as I rabble on about perspective, I feel I hardly ever nail down mine. I think I have a certain professional courtesy and fear of having to deal with the fallout of my disposition. Instead of letting things “get old” I hold out for when I can make things “exciting” or perhaps marginally memorable.

What do you really want to learn about yourself? To what sickening degree do you want to embody what it means to be “human?” I think it is the massive revulsion of reality that prompts a significant portion of people’s day to day actions. Who wants to belabor the circumstances under which they would kill? Who wants to feel the excitement of a wanton affair that would “technically” cheat them of their previous love affairs? Who wants to intellectually dance around the supposition of intellectually dancing?

So I don’t think I’m smart. I live in a world where when I make a metaphor, you understand it. When I say a word, or make a rhyme, or levy a situation against another, you see, or have the capacity to see every, be it ten or none, angle I imagined. Then I just keep on going like there’s no room for clarity. Maybe once in a blue moon I get feedback. Maybe I get someone to challenge or ask a question. But really, that’s reserved for blogs about sex or personal call-outs of particularly insidious behavior.

I’m having trouble understanding what I would do if I were smart. You’d think someone with my ego would have found a way to amass a fortune, have subjects for his every beck and call, and maybe even his own kazoo. You’d think I’d be out “fixing” things, or maybe you wouldn’t. I would, but that’s my retarded opinion. You’d think I’d avoid fights or cater to peoples’ feelings. You’d think I’d devised a way for me to project a life, demeanor, and method that would make it so you understood what I thought. But that’s only if I were smart.

I know what I want, and I think I know how to get it. My terms are strict. If I hadn’t tasted what it was, I wouldn’t bother speaking of it. I think I am creepily equipped to enact what I want done. It makes me nervous to say that. I think if you even bother with my presence or friendship, you are more than capable of grasping what it is. I would love to converse further with anyone willing.

[308] Stamp Of Approval

I think there are features of credibility. That is to say, you will see the same kind of temperament and argument coming from sources that tend to know what they are talking about. Unfortunately, this temperament and argument are often mimicked. This means, if you don't have the patience or habit of trying to recognize a credible source, it's easy to fall right in with a "brilliant argument" made by some new writer, philosopher, or product developer. This problem is exacerbated if you are interested and overly excited with the topic being engaged. In my endless, but not hopeless, pursuit of what's true, I wish to explore what it means to look credible vs. being credible and how it can be easy to immediately see right though someone.

Just so I don't lose myself, I want to talk about the show "Shark Tank," Paul Krugman, fictitious universes, and this article on sex I just read.

We all have our interests or poorly characterized "passions." It's easy to feel a sense of authority or pride in giving one too many factoids that no one else has previously Googled. It's also easy to feel gratified in taking that information and infusing it with personal experience to round out the richness and authenticity of our position. "Did you know that such a seemingly innocuous fact of our biology played out in my interaction with that cute girl from our art class today?" "My background in history, and my uncle who lives in Israel, gives me the authority to refer to the Palestinian terrorists as such."

We build models of behavior that are supposed to signal to each other that we are, in fact, credible. Me even breaking this blog into paragraphs is supposed to show that I know how to structure an argument in digestible chunks regardless of how convoluted or vague each line may be. I even reflexively have a hard time taking giant blocks of text seriously even when I agree with the content! It speaks to the "embedded sensibilities" of what looks and feels "correct."

So if you've seen the show Shark Tank, you see small businesses line up to make their case for a panel of investors. They have some new product which often enough is useful, interesting, and has potential for growth. Before these people have actually gotten to the show, they've created a world where their product is significantly more amazing than reality may have room for. They've put in the blood, sweat, and tears, they know, or are willing to lie, about the numbers, and they have a strong sense for "what people often wonder about and look for" or "what people are excited about." Frequently, once the questioning starts, they get rattled, scare away a few of the investors, and then get proverbially spanked.

All of these people "believe" in their products, and others will buy into that level of work and dedication. The panel of investors, having heard the same story every day, focus on the bottom line. How much money is potentially in it for them? The staggeringly ridiculous and quite infuriating thing I take away from this show is how arbitrary and petty the whole process is. That is their "business." None of these people sit and think about what they'd do with a ten million dollars as opposed to one million. When a comment about "the trouble Apple got into" when talking about brilliant design and marketing against the "problems with overseas manufactures" as if we're not talking about modern slavery and suicide nets...

If I'm a billionaire chastising a small detergent company on its packaging, and part of my argument is to callously lump in how Apple's anti-human rights attitude hurt it for a few quarters despite their resources and ability, to me, you've dramatically lowered my ability to grant you the level of authenticity I seek. Instead you might be described as "a business junkie." You know and project that world so well that you lose sight of the real one. It is important to note that I do not think this is deliberate or malicious. It's the human habit of culture that takes over. Everything you do becomes an expression of the embedded sensibilities, and you talk about things you didn't mean or even want to talk about. Personally, I don't want my effort or thoughts to get that steeped in "the business world." It's too easy. I want my impact to be felt actually instead of arbitrarily in giving x amount of dollars for y percentage in your company where I only care about the bottom line.

Paul Krugman has the kind of authenticity I think is easily lost on the panel of money makers. For those unaware, he's a Nobel Prize winning economist which has nothing to do with why I think he's authentic. When Krugman uses numbers to state facts, what a concept, other economists, despite their differences or disagreements are forced to agree. You can't argue with results. Krugman in interviews lays out a case, and when you try to argue with him, he doesn't lose his shit and start frothing at the mouth, the other person gets pressed to get detailed about something they previously trapped themselves in "sound bite world" about. Krugman is effortless in his demeanor and achievements because he relies on the numbers.

Someone or something that becomes "naturally compelling" is anything but. It's not enough to have a background in, be praised by, or have done in the past. There is a commitment to the truth that goes beyond what you're personally invested. When fans are pissed that a band "sold out," are they just jealous and don't want their favorite song writers/players to achieve commercial success? Or is there a deep seeded fear that the place where compelling lyrics and innovative musical structure will be slowly phased out in the name of the bottom line or brand interests? Some bands understand their message or stick to their roots, and some people commit to the numbers and say how things are instead of what they, or some business entity or political interest, wish them to be.

It's hard if not impossible to draw distinct lines of authenticity when you take them out of the real world. While there are relatively limited numbers of genres or character types, there are an infinite number of stories you can tell with them. Aside from the right publisher or promoter getting their hands on them, what makes something like "The Marvel Universe" become a universe? How does the story of heroes and war get made into 6 movies involving Hobbits or Jedi? Fiction is as an analogy or it wouldn't be compelling. Go ahead and call this my concern with the psychological makeup of people in love with Twilight. Whether it's the truth of how the characters interact, or the truth of your longing to behave like or find someone like what's depicted on screen, you're forever taken with the ones that resonate deep in your gut.

Is the author or director just "brilliant?" I think it's more likely something deeper, fundamentally authentic, that's being spoken to or connected with. Twilight equals a lot of people feeling desperate. Marvel equals a lot of people longing to be "more" or expressive and entertaining of a complex. Pick your favorite Lord of the Rings character and play their decisions against what you might have done, and your willingness to follow overrides a lot of the details in how the story was put together. It's not how the work compares to what came previously; it's when relatively few characters or stories connect to something that feels effortless or timeless despite the amount of work it may actually take to get that portrayal.

For as many people out there trying to express through fiction, there seem to be ten altogether who think themselves rooted in fact. It's kind of frustrating to read a review of a book, especially on sex, that says (not a direct quote) "for those of us who like facts and figures this certainly has a couple of those, and for those of us who like sweeping personal soliloquies we're in for a treat too." Protip, anyone who starts an answer to an interview question with "I'm not trying to be obtuse" is trying to be obtuse. There's this "professional demeanor and language" of someone trying to be an authority on a subject which has been hijacked to all levels of obscurity by my estimation. If you want to claim sex is complicated from a personal standpoint, don't get published and dress it up like you're a scientist. You should put it in a blog called "I Want to Sex You Up Baby" and let your readers battle out the details in the comments.

I know, and like the fact, that my writing things in this format only goes so far. When I want to start making decisions that play out over someone else's life, I'm starved for data. If I'm ever compelling, I wish for it to be in the realm of "I never thought of it that way" or "I didn't have the words." When I think, do, and say, I want it to speak to the authenticity that can't be overridden by insecurity or blind belligerent investment in the next compulsion. I really do think that "like recognizes like" and when you're aroused, or motivated, or pulled into a moment or character, that's where lessons are learned and platforms for self-expression are created. This is where I look when I'm after your "soul" and what I hope you see when I'm writing from mine.

[307] The Taskmaster

Is there any problem that can’t be solved? When you reassess the nature of problems, give them a context or set of conditions, it feels like everything is solved. The information isn’t being invented, it's discovered. The pursuit and elation in tackling something bigger than yourself is itself another ongoing discovered solution. It’s in how you frame the question. It’s in what you define as a problem. It’s in your ability to anticipate, which begets a certain order, or logic, to your perception.

In that sense, if you take someone with a problem, or constant problems, all that’s really happened is a perceptional rut that they, at some important level, feel they can anticipate. It may make them feel stressed, but it’s stress they understand, stress they can rely on, or stress that signals to them it’s time to move on to the next step. If they don’t feel like they’re going anywhere or if there’s nothing to be won, then that’s where they are and it’s right where they’ll be. It’s orienting in a potentially ever-expanding space.

Not to get too inside my head though. I think the better you want to play “culture of today human” the more stress and heartache you’ll find. Culture is a deliberate attempt to orient something we don’t really understand. The rules are superficial at best, antithetical to sense and happiness at worst. The color of your sacred garb or the amount of times you bow are arbitrary. I wonder the impact of being maybe sub-consciously aware of this bombardment of the absurd has on our self-esteem and ability to shape a personality.

It’s because we desperately want to fit in. It doesn’t matter if it’s dumb, it matters that everyone else is doing it. We get nice brain and tummy feelings that are not picky about the fact that they get to feel nice. There’s a problem in “trying” to fit in and not just realizing that you already do. The fact of your existence, your ability to even feel shitty about that fact, is you fitting in. There is literally nowhere else you could go or squeeze into as far as this universe is concerned.

I think my nature stems from an intimidating level of acceptance. I know enough of the rules to flirt until the cops get called, but nothing stopped me from pushing it until they did. When I need proof of my ability, I manifest proof, every time. When I don’t, I’m not trying to impress or stress about what “it all means” because I fundamentally accept how quickly and dramatically I can change my mind if I heard a better reason to care in such a fashion. It’s rather disheartening that people don’t understand it this way. They’re content just saying they don’t like you.

I think my ideas and behavior are boiling down more to a sense of responsibility than honesty anymore. It’s mostly because it’s not really a secret what I think or feel about things than some dire need to start lying all the time. If I’m “just here” wherever that is, I should try to be the best example of that as I can. To me, that’s advocating and living like how I think. For example, if I really don’t believe in marriage, I’m not getting married, and it won’t be “because I feel that way” it’ll be with as many words as it takes for it to click why. From what I eat to whom I associate with should all warrant such an explanation if so called upon.

There’s a responsibility to the logic and how it orients you against the other players. I always come back to religion. I’d never argue or say “I tripped balls and really felt emotional or connected to something like god, so time to negate all that thinking I’ve done these last 9 or so years.” I hope my explanations of things come across as that, explanations, and not desperate pleas for you to buy my bullshit. When I’m boring, I don’t feel bored, when I’m alone I don’t feel lonely, and when I’m confused or frustrated, I’m not willing to let those become anything more than the moments I have to experience them about the tasks at hand. This is not the norm, apparently, so in that respect it’s isolating and empty, but not for the fullness of my understanding.

My biggest problem in life is that I have no problems.

[306] Quintessentially Mew

I’m going to hesitate using the word “soul” a dozen times while writing this I’m sure.

I think there is a potential for an individual in anyone. An unfortunate problem with this potential is that they can choose to define their individual in terms completely opposite of what I would consider a healthy or optimal form. Why would I advocate for people becoming individuals in the first place? Why should you be persuaded that the case I make for me, and that you should be you is even valid? Maybe their definitions are simply more nuanced or a different kind of true than what you think I have to offer. Maybe you find yourself so much better to connect and empathize with one of their senses of individuality that you can’t even begin to connect with mine.

I think there are calculable and reliable methods for why my conception of individual is better than theirs. What is “their” conception? What rules do they follow? Someone can easily describe themselves as traditional; wife, kid, 2 car garage, steady job. There is absolutely no problem in wanting these things. There is nothing inherently wrong with these things. I certainly wouldn’t mind some kind of relative version of most of these types of things. No matter how many times I may argue on behalf of these things, seemingly in line with “their” position, I’m still asking why.

The main rule of what I will call “the off individual” or “off person” is a habit of doing for the sake of doing. When questioned why, the answer is because. When pressed, it’s a choked yet at the same time screamed “because that’s I want, that’s who I am, and it’s none of your business.” The off person isn’t necessarily a dumb person. It’s one thing to accidentally light your balls on fire, twice, and it’s another to live moment to moment in a sort of haze or kind of angst.

My individual is, in a very important sense, very boring, and in another, the most interesting person you could ever talk to. They exist in a realm where nothing is off limits, you can always change, but you can always tell that no matter where they’ve been or where they’re going, you are talking to them. You’re not talking to who their parents wanted them to be. You’re not talking to their fear of being lonely. You’re not talking to their uncertainty of the future. And you’re certainly not talking to your own judge, jury, and executioner.

They’re boring because things simply happen and they try to understand and navigate them. They’re the most interesting person you could ever talk to because of how they came to that understanding. They gain a perspective that becomes impossible to ignore and naturally compels change. They speak with enthusiasm that, were it not to come from habit, would be exhausting. There are people who just are so intently that you have to be drawn in. They rob you of the choice, and that’s okay with you. These people tell you your story through their eyes.

I’m crushed when people lose their ability to become these kinds of people. In that sense, college has been one of the most disappointing periods. I have the window into myself in the relationships I keep. I look much further beyond “he can be fun at a party” as to why we got along. There are a number of people who I’ve had or consistently have the best conversation I could be having in that moment. And then often enough they disappear. They don’t move or get too busy, “they” disappear.

There’s a responsibility to being my kind of individual. You have to understand the difference between describing what people are, and judging the shit out of them to try and feel good about yourself. It’s taking someone else’s “quirks” and understanding them to be a part of that person, not always an opportunity to pigeon-hole their entire being. You have to realize that the person I talked to for hours, or saw smiling the entire time during some sexy soiree is the one I believe when you’re describing yourself. When you start to sound like a romantic drama or off-shoot of the American dream, I’m doubtful. Life is more nuanced. As a person living one, I’m desperate for your character.

When people cut off me or my group, I’m concerned. I can’t think of a time in my life when I’ve been prompted to be more open and honest about anything with anyone. The overwhelming “who gives a fuck” nature of my group is less a genuine lack of concern and more an “I’m happy if you’re happy.” We may describe situations and people in deliberate or crass terms, but you can bet there’s a level of honesty that actually wants to get to the bottom of how or why they’d describe something in that way. The sometimes overt sexual stuff is just fluff. Fun fluff, but it’s not a group of people who needs to bust out into an orgy a day to keep boredom away.

So why wouldn’t someone want to be included? Well, it’s off putting to talk about things you’ve deemed off limits. It’s easy to read way too far into a few personalities or past situations. You’ve not only turned yourself off to understanding this group of people who, I would argue can have a humongous positive impact on your life, but also the opportunity to actively engage in the conversation on what may need to change or seems wrong to you. To exist in a group dynamic like ours, you are lost without a strong sense of self. You become uneasy, bored, judgmental, and confused. I know, because this is how I feel when I’m stuck around a group of “normal people.”

And it’s not like I’m butt hurt that “nobody wants to be my/our friend.” I don’t think someone needs to step in and validate some personality. I’m concerned about the people who flirt with the group. Who spent maybe years flickering or cracking open doors that were infinitely interesting, that drew you in, until one day they’re unceremoniously shut with nary a nod they ever existed. If they were once willing, what changed? If they once had stories and unstoppable thoughts, and this intriguing perspective, and shared it and good times were had, why is it gone now? They turned off. And if they just went dead to you, why’d they even bother in the first place?

It’s why I have a hard time perpetually “hating” or trying to cut off people that I’ve even once genuinely enjoyed their time. That’s their capacity. I know it. They can’t lie to me. It’s why I keep a relatively small facebook contact list. If I don’t feel an obligation, if I wouldn’t spend my time, if I had nothing to say to you, your being, your perspective, your soul, I wouldn’t be fucking talking! What were you doing with me? Is it really that interesting to talk with someone because of their hair and ability to say fuck a lot? I doubt it. So what did you see? What looked like you or what you might want to be? What might you have to teach?

The goal isn’t to learn how to run away from things that make you feel uncomfortable. The goal isn’t to blame. The goal is to tear down every excuse until you can just be, just talk, just accept, until the baseline you has enough reason to adapt to something else. I don’t care if people feel they need to grow up or become obligated with other things, I care if they treat the person they’ve shown themselves to be like it doesn’t exist. Like the time spent with me or my friends was “just another party” or “who I was in college.” I don’t like being written off like I wasn’t trying. I don’t want to watch sparks get domesticated, lazy, and complacent. Bad ideas are never named when you don’t allow the voice to challenge them. Convention can crush your soul. And the idea that I would be sadder about that than you is horrifying.

[305] My Balls Itch

So part of taking responsibility for the world is a propensity to redefine everything you do in the context of a larger picture. If I eat shitty food, it’s not that I’m drunk and it’s delicious, I’m letting everyone know that someone under these circumstances is “good” or justified in indulging in a horrible for you meal for any number of potentially incoherent reasons. If I flirt, I’m shouting the world that someone of my level of attractiveness is dignifying the person on the other end as a viable fuck-around partner or at the very least a being well-enough to converse and spend time with. It’s like you’re given a stamp that, for people who are respectful of stamps, when you use it it’s an all guiding light to what “matters” or is “relevant” to your position in life.

The ability to step back and characterize everything as old hat or part of a larger system is inescapable. I can’t go to the bars and see people having a good time. I can’t even judge them as I’d like. They are all ignoring the years before them when they’re parents said the same things and felt, if not still feel, the anxiety and societal pressures to behave a certain way to snag a mate whether it’s for the night or long enough to have kids with. At the end, it’s a game and there are rules you’re either savvy to or conflicted by.

I have a hard time considering myself. I don’t know if I’m smart, or just have spent too much time in a certain kind of mind frame or have maybe just been “damaged” in a way that isn’t really quantified until something goes significantly wrong. My disregard isn’t so much practice as it is inevitable. I don’t’ know how else to view people as anything but the sea of endless self-perpetuating problems that go above and beyond in ways to disappoint and seemingly doom the kind of world I’d like to see in the future. It’s not enough for me to consider a “nice” person. I’m not compelled by anecdotes and allegiances. I have no moral code that puts humanity or its life force at the top of some superficial pyramid. You just behave a certain way and it either works or doesn’t for what seems to be necessary for a healthy future.

I’m a product of habit. If and when I get everything I want in the future, I understand that it will be because I’m not willing to give up. I don’t take failure as failure. I learn and adapt and try to apply what I’ve learned to the next situation. When that’s the case, it’s practically inevitable that when x under y conditions will get to some form of z. But it’s always a game. It’s always my agenda verses how the world is “actually” run. The weirdest thing is that I don’t think I have anything real to gain. I don’t think there is anything to win beyond the personal satisfaction of “I told you so.”

I fundamentally don’t believe in the human species. If I did, I might find myself respecting or even marginally liking the majority. I hate how slow we are, how scared we are, and how impossibly closed minded we are to learning new things or changing in light of evidence. I see us as ridiculously too quick to get numb and not care about the things that have even managed to arrive at our doorstep. So when I get on my “mission” to change culture. When I want to be surrounded by people of the same mindset and capabilities that you could interchange the jobs or responsibilities in life and everything would run smooth regardless, I know it’s still a fool’s errand.

I’m shooting for the opportunity to live in a microcosm of the kind of world that I think will sustain itself longest. It can’t last forever. Every ideal I espouse will have been conjured up before I got around to thinking of it. Special sciences will have already existed to give me the how and why I should structure something one way over another. To try and squeeze out what is quintessentially “me” will be the burden of those choosing to get involved. Whether it’s the “best” or “most right” will be always utterly under question given the ever changing times or circumstances.

I just find myself judging everything, all the fucking time. I don’t see a sense of caring or understanding. I don’t see a burden. I don’t feel your obligation. I don’t believe you are anything but your day to day struggle to grasp your pathetic life quandaries that have been more resolved by history than the question of who wrote the diary of Anne Frank. I’m not hopeful. I’m not optimistic. I do things out of scorn and spite for what’s taken for granted.

I don’t know how to explain how motivated I am to do so much in utter spite of itself. I do not believe in anything. I only know my effort. I only know what I’ve done or what I’m seemingly capable of. I have no faith. I have no hope. I have nothing to suggest that I have any reason to live other than my perpetual decision to give myself reasons to. If I get everything I want in life, it will still all be a game, a joke in front of the bigger screen telling a truer story. And it’s so ridiculously weird to think about.

With every last breath I have to refute sounding like an angst ridden teenager, I don’t know how to express how alone I feel. I can read the philosophers. I can chat with the smart people. I can derive endless excuses and explanations for how and where I’m coming from that would seemingly align with resolute and dignified positions that came well before I ever got to them, but none of them are the nail on the head. I still manage to find a level of isolation that I wish just stemmed from some egocentric or pretentious place. I wish it was easy to be called naïve. I wish I wasn’t so sure of the consequences.

I’m not allowed to “give up.” And what does that even mean in the context of not having a belief in what you’re doing in the first place? I understand what can result; I don’t have some moral high ground or infinitely inaccessible reason for its establishment other than what it looks like juxtaposed to what’s happening currently. Take that derivative anti-relativist morality.

As long as I care “in spite” there will be a problem. As long as I do things out of desperation or exhaustion, the fundamental issues with society I can be assured are not being addressed. I don’t know how to let go of the hatred. I don’t know how to justify letting things “be.” I don’t know how to pretend for someone’s own good. And I definitely have no fucking clue how to go about tackling problems that no one knows how to fucking talk about. Suppose I’ll just stick to this little corner and keep shouting into the wind.