[297] I Are Robot

I think there is a superficial line between “us” and machines. I semi-consistently get accused of being a robot because I understand people's lives and relationships in terms considered cold, impartial, or somehow (given how deeply it cuts) utterly misinformed. Maybe I can run with an explanation of this robotic nature. Maybe I can explain that the picture is more complex, and frankly more meaningful, than you have the capacity to hear.

I’m not an advocate of circumstance. I don’t want to “fall in love” with someone because we grew up in the same place. I don’t want to “find myself surprisingly agreeing with” someone because we both found an angst ridden philosopher our freshman year of college. I don’t want to subject someone to the whirlwind of my feelings. I don’t want to constrain someone because I’m afraid they’ll leave me. I, in an important sense concerning your personhood, personality, well-being, and arbiter of your decisions, don’t want to be responsible for making decisions for you. I don’t want to trap you or guilt you, or exert a horribly conceived sense of power over you.

I just am. Whether I’m happy or sad, that is up to me. Whether I choose to find a way to swallow what I’m doing in life or not, again, up to me. My decisions, as long as I’m going to claim responsibility for them, I’m going to regard them as free, if only pragmatically. “I” am not “us” and don’t burden you with my little exploration of self, meaning, or place in the world. I think this is a position of respect, understanding, and freedom. If I openly state that I’m an ongoing puzzle to be put in relative space, far be it for me to be the judgmental stopping point on what to say about who you are.

And because it never gets old, apparently as a robot, I’m interested in strings of data. I like to let my brain process an input and see some kind of conclusion. Funny thing about drawing conclusions, nobody likes it when you “doom them to fail.” Now, I stress that I’m using their language, for us robots merely see things as “necessary consequences.” You may have guessed that we robots get the most flack when it comes to talking about how people get along with one another. It gets extra dramatic when they’re supposed to or have been “getting along” for long periods of time. Proposing a more nuanced and specific answer as to why that diverges from “because they love each other” gets quite a load of shit dumped on a poor merely processing robot’s head.

Now don’t go humanizing, this isn’t a pity party. This is one in a string of ongoing explanations. I understand this is the point to start touting a litany of feelings, and they’ve been taken under administrative consideration.

A little about robots; it isn’t that they don’t feel, it’s that they feel sparingly. And even when those feelings kick in, they tend to be fleeting and not overwhelmingly compelling. See, for robots, feelings inform. They’re like a lick from an enthusiastic puppy; “Oh, that was sooo cute! And a little wet lol” but it’s going to dry up and the dog will shit on the rug. This doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy the puppy licks, but robot memories are designed to store the smell of puppy shit. We understand the amount of work it takes to get that puppy to a happy and healthy place for both parties.

A robot is only as good as in the information available. My inputs come from hundreds of self-descriptions describing a million different versions of the same relationship! Even pointing this out to a fellow converser is a robots folly. Why, however could a robot know MY LOVE?! This seems to misunderstand a robot’s position. I have nothing vested in whether you work or don’t, I’m merely stating the experiential data and drawing an analogy to a seemingly similar situation. Live long and prosper for all I care, but why not contemplate the significance of your defensiveness?

I say loud and I say often how much I don’t believe in love. For those of you who understand this is almost my 300^th blog on or referencing the topic, I’ll save the rehashing why. Love, like all things in a robots mind, is constrained by how useful it can be used to compute an outcome or understand the data. Given enough conversation, explanation, and an indefinitely growing list of the definitions of love, it does not compute. However, all hope is not lost! Surely there is a positive swing that can be described as to why people relate the way they do.

So then we can traverse into the hard, pragmatic, and dare I claim “rational” world. With this streamlined sensibility, we take people’s words for it; we apply basic understandings of human psyches, and use some good old fashioned plain speech. Here, people don’t want to be alone. In this world, people are afraid of having nothing to show for their lives. In this magical place, people go through experience after experience and, if they're lucky, have lives play out like their favorite television drama provided no one ended up dying. Love comes as quick as you’re willing to say it. The “cutest” “smartest” “most amazing” guy or girl in the world is a mere Facebook status update and/or few years away from the last one.

Please note, simply being a pattern does not mean I lament the pattern, or that it’s a bad pattern, or that I don’t believe there is a large amount of genuine happiness to be derived from said pattern. BUT IT’S A FUCKING PATTERN! It’s this odd thrust of ego and hubris and self-importance that placates common sense and historical perspective that just throws this humble robot for a loop. If, and let me stress if, patterns can be, at least semi-relied upon to predict the future, why not try to live in that future and behave accordingly? Why not try to account for all the things people would like to ignore or forget, and own them now, get good at them now, and see what manifests from that?

Now, I understand I could just have a much fucked up conception of happiness or well-being. This is something I don’t heavily debate, so if that’s the resounding opinion, it hasn’t reached my ears. But part of my robotic perspective is to try and state things plainly, or at least as plainly as the data informs me. Yes, I like you. Yes, I get bored. No, boredom doesn’t mean I don’t like you. No, it isn’t always about boredom. Yes, I would absolutely like to keep what we have. No, I will not keep what we have it means I feel I’m made to start lying about myself. No, I don’t want anything resembling the kind of things people have been inputting me with since I found an interest in the subject.

Before something changes, it has the capacity to do so. It is “ingrained” with an ability to reformulate around new ideas, behaviors, or environmental settings. That’s my robot brain. I have little to no control over why it decides to see things as re-hashing the past, and little to no control over not wanting to fall in line with what has proven to be dismal denial ridden insecure and ill-informed relationship rings of the past. As far as I can tell, it just seems to make sense not to behave that way.

I won’t equate sex with your personality or our relationship. I won’t pretend you have a quota of texts or Facebook comments in order for me to really believe you like me. I won’t subject my infinitely joking and dismissive personality so you get an opportunity to feel insecure or pissed off for something that doesn’t even register once you care to slow things down and break them into their smallest obvious conclusions. I have this small, ever so small, robot conception of self that is responsible for how it thinks and what its thinking may do to or for the rest of the world. If I’ve managed to actually get somewhere in my processing, I simply can’t sacrifice it to sensibilities of a common man. After all, it’s only after enough of them that I’ve been driven here in the first place.

So when a robot manages to feel, it’s not an accident. When a robot is trying to be honest, it’s hanging its reputation on the line because it doesn’t believe you should accept what it has to say without understanding its reasons. When a robot is willing to talk about or fight for what it believes in, open your fucking ears and minds. As a robot, they need a closet and alcohol. Incorporating you into the mix might as well be an act of your god. It’s not whining, nor a threat; it’s just the reality as far as a robot can see. How ironic when the robot gets blamed for not being able to connect like all the normal people.

[296] Thoughts Upon Which To Hang Our Baggage

My “meta-idea” has to revolve around time. I think about how my time is being used and how I describe it. I think that well before you can engage in an activity or not, the consequences will carry, your thoughts will carry, well into what will inevitably be your current mind. I don’t, even when I’m doing conceivably “nothing” genuinely feel like my time is being wasted. Perhaps the only aspect to respecting and enjoying your time is making as many active and self-espousing decisions while you’re using it.

Time frames how I think about money. It frames how I think about the pursuit of money and what money is really good for. Money, to me, is more of an exchange towards a purpose. If you have no purpose, you have no reason to care for money. If you’re purpose involves redefining or re-purposing money, it becomes less of a burden marred by ideas about paying the bills or feeding yourself. I can do a lot with a little bit of money. Whether it means getting something priced cheap, the easy old way to look at something, or in the kind of dividends you get when you’re paying for a chance to express who you are.

So I don’t pay the back taxes just quite yet. The consequences just aren’t of the kind that would significantly negatively impact my life. I don’t work 80 hours a week. The dividends paid out from my psyche would literally start to change who I fundamentally was. I may splurge a little on dinner or a night out. Nobody spends their time talking about the hours they spent reading a book or studying a topic. Of course doing such things helps inform and shape the moment, but it’s snippets you’ll remember over time. It’s snippets you’ll reflect on that will be how you define entire years or people. There’s a million ways I’d like to be remembered than “eh, kind of a cool dude, I guess.”

An obsession with time frames how I think about time frames. I simply know how long it takes me to understand something or make things happen. Delays happen because people don’t pick up phones, answer emails, say they’ll do it tomorrow, spend time complaining or stressing about restrictions, were told not to from someone on high, were given conflicting information, didn’t understand what you meant, or deliberately slowed down because they’re a dick and why not. Therefore, I know what needs to happen so things happen now, or in an hour, or by tomorrow morning, or holy shit what did we just create this week.

This time-centric view puts things in perspective, provides a plethora of answers, and makes it easy to form rules. It helps mitigate risk, define what’s worthwhile, and decide the very reasons to even bother existing. I am playing a game after all, and games are either finite or infinite. My life is finite, the impact I may leave on existence though, who’s to say?

So I won’t spend that time pretending. I won’t believe in god because I’m not schizophrenic. I won’t call you friend unless I can see, feel, and think about the positive impact you have on my life. I won’t double-speak unless I’m pulling some 1984 shit. As long as I have a voice in my head that can be persuaded to make me feel shitty about myself, I need to be doing the kinds of things that can fight back. It’s a voice we all have. A voice I see so flagrantly expressed outward lately as the stress of life appears to be beating the ever-loving shit out of my friends.

An important component to “taking over the world” then, is to put you on my time. When the world around you operates in a manner that exudes my values, then I’ll be truly confused when too much ran awry. I’m already happy, and that’s my biggest problem. As Jay-Z would say, I’m already home. My existence therefore needs to extend farther. It needs to include more to think about, more contingencies and responsibilities. I need to inform my perspective in a manner that goes beyond being a basically functioning human being just getting along.

I can’t tell if this seems too hard to understand sometimes, or if it just comes in too abrasive a package. I don’t consider hurting feelings or “being a dick” to necessarily be a personality flaw. Wanting to make people feel bad is the personality flaw, but that only tends to happen when I’m addressing something that barely resembles what I’d describe as “people.”

I question because I am endlessly intrigued by how and why you spend your time. Mine isn’t riddled with damn near any of the bullshit that most describe as a waste of their time. I want to know about your relationships and the extent they keep you happy. I want to know the heart of your interest in a topic so I can understand why it’s worth my time to even hear about it or explore further. My mind is already in a million different directions and picking a specific path to focus on takes something or someone special. It has to be something/someone worthy of advocating across my interests or to anyone. Something story worthy.

The best stories can connect with a million people in a million ways whether it’s because of the moral it espouses or because it’s speaks so close to something you’ve maybe never had words for. I can write a million blogs that will never match what it means to operate that kind of machine I envision for the future. There will probably be a handful of people in the thousands I’ll meet that I’ll trust to work alongside with, to help write part of the story. Certainly, it will take people who know it can’t be about “them,” but us. Hopefully, there will be a kind of truth that wasn’t force fed, but always existed waiting to be accepted.

[296.5] Stupid Vs. Smart

This is a blog I should have written weeks ago so excuse me if it’s a little scattered. For just as important as thinking about time shapes my perspective, the eternal struggle between what I’d call “smart” and “stupid” rages on. I would love to be able to draw a strict demarcation between the two. As far as I can tell, everyone is both smart and stupid given a specific context, so how do we get to the “meta-smart or “meta-stupid” person?

Theoretically, we want to “grow” as individuals. If we look at a child, it’s generally preferred that we want them to learn the ABCs and how to count and how to walk and maybe one day look both ways before crossing the street. These are “smart” if not practical, life affirming, intelligence expressing ideas. They are growing. As adults we hope to find people who can share in another’s perspective. Hopefully they’ll accept people despite their color or sexual orientation. They grow to understand that these are not things which threaten them or account for the morality of the individual.

Surely, this growth caps at a certain point academically. We don’t really go around arguing about who is more PH.D.’d or fiercely debate the merit and number of books each of us has read. So we must be expecting, hoping, that people are growing “emotionally” or “spiritually.” What’s odd, is that we consider these areas to be “too personal” to really be discussed intelligently. We don’t get smart, as far as I can tell, about how or why you grow to accept different people, or how life works, and on what basis you should do so.

It’s this kind of emotional stupidity that we somehow match against intelligence. It takes work to get informed, but anyone can feel. In my experience, my feelings only bring me back to a point where I need to explain something intelligently. If I get super pissed, I need to talk out the details for why I’m not going to burn a place down. If I’m getting close to someone, I need to venture down what it means to be emotionally manipulative. Huh, I kinda have two settings, pissed or tepid.

It’s emotional stupidity that prevents me from having too many meaningful conversations about religion. If you weren't afraid to lose something, afraid of change, or even if you don’t feel afraid still unable or unwilling to take any and every question as far as they can go, it has something to do with stupid emotions, because I’m convinced your brain works. It’s like an overbearing mom speculating about all the crazy things that can happen if you stay out too late; you know you’re just wandering around Wal-Mart or bullshitting at Steak N Shake. Even if she knows this logically, she won’t accept it. Sooner or later she’s picking you up from jail or taking you to rehab, she just knows it.

The folk knowledge is that all teenagers are crazy. They destroy, can’t be trusted, and upon reflection of your adventures as a kid, you know all you need to. Even if 98% of the time you spent it on the couch playing Halo, you remember that one fire you lit that got a little out of control and ignore you had the foresight to bring the hose around. You remember trying cigarettes, but forget not liking them. Hanging onto these ideas is problematic, much as believing in anything BECAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS it to be true, because the idea is incomplete. Much as my time in school, it’s too easy. Easily offered and accepted.

Emotional stupidity I see as a hindrance; it’s anything that prevents you from growing into accepting more about the world. It’s when you could apply your “reasoning by way of feeling” to the world and see a measurable decline in the reliability of information. It’s believing in a god to the point of campaigning against science or to justify some atrocity of nature or personal depravity. It’s believing in love or a relationship to bring a kid into an unstable situation because you’re searching to be complete. It’s placating a person’s entire history by one act or what they look like. It’s being ruled by the fear of the unknown or of where the thoughts might take you.

Therefore, smart should be the opposite of that. It’s learning enough about yourself and place in the world to adopt a stake worth having in it. Understanding how small or big your decisions may impact the people in your life. Holding yourself accountable for how you feel and still managing to consistently go with what makes the most sense, if only at the time. To me, if I’m to be considered smart anymore, it’s not because I read and write, it needs to come from being personally responsible and accountable. It’s not to say I won’t do stupid things or allow a twinge of emotionality to creep in, but I’m capable of recognizing when it does.

Stupid follows a pattern of avoidance while smart explores. Stupid is afraid and smart perseveres. Stupid sums things up, smart is in the details. Stupid makes excuses, smart offers different theories. Most importantly, stupid is empty and smart is a kind of fulfilling that I've never been able to experience another way. Yes, I consider myself smart. Yes, I can do stupid things. There’s a mental happy place I reach when I’m doing something smart. It’s almost like a lifestyle, where shit just makes sense, even when you can’t tell why.

This might speak to why I have two settings. Either things “are” or are going well-enough, or there’s a threat. I can react so viscerally because if I’m threatened it has to be at a very fundamental level. Luckily, that’s usually only coming from myself and over-thinking I suppose.

But as to why I don’t think we’ll make it as a species and call most people stupid, it just seems smart given everything they say or do. Given the stress and drama presented to me, given their non-productive, emotionally driven squawking, their inability to answer anything or change anything without so much undue hassle. The smart thing to do just seems to be “get by” primarily and espouse a personal set of ideals about exploring the potential extent of an intellect. If that, by happenstance, tends to help people, then yay I guess, but to truly care that much would beget me being emotionally stupid about their judgments from the onset.

Funny how the exact same words can mean completely different things.

[295] Option 2

This is a laborious blog. I do not suggest you read it.

My new way of thinking…First and foremost, it’s pretty fucking weird that I should be able to adopt a “new” way of thinking in the first place. For sure, I should be able to view what I’m doing and be acting in relative accordance with my previous mode regardless of what I’d like to believe about some sort of “fresh start” or something “new.” Fuck it, you’ll have to trust that it’s actually different. All I can assure you is that I’m significantly more mentally fucked than you’ll ever want to give me credit for, and that capacity allows me even the preconception that I can pull off such a feat, which coincidentally, is enough. So there.

The first step I can tell for a new way of thinking, is to put aside all of the bullshit that I can consider old or beyond relevant modes of thought. I’ve been streaming Current TV and had the “duh mother fucker you should have realized this sooner” epiphany that I don’t need the Young Turks telling at me that giving money to the rich will not help the economy and that trickle-down economics is a fools idea. So, I put myself to task naming and thrusting aside the old conceptions of what people are arguing about. Screw your leftist or independent blog, the facts care not for labels. I don’t need more convincing on reality.

Human rights: everyone, no matter how intellectually infuriating and inept, is equal under the law and I don’t care who you fucking, what you’re snorting, what color you’ve dyed your skin or been born into, or even what magic you believe dictates our existence, you have a vote, you’re perspective matters to the extent that you can give it a voice, and I will be made to swallow it in an open forum debate as to the how we decide to govern society. BOOM, just wrote a four and a half line sentence, drunk, that is grammatically correct: eat a dick.

Personal goals: I want to open EVERY business. I want to be in your mind and up your ass. I want people to think Mystik or Nick P. or whatever conception I choose to thrust upon this world every waking moment because I want to be a process. I don’t want to be the rule or the ultimate dictum; I want to be the method by which things change. I want to be the discussion. I want to be a guide on the cycle. I want to be the endless pursuit of what could be, what can change, what it could mean, and what things could become. I want to black out and hit a fugue state state where things just rush into being in the order they are supposed to and to the needs by which they can serve.

I’m sorry, but I WIN. I will always win. I will put my mind and heart and whatever conception you have about a soul to it and I will win. I will talk till you have no choice. I will decide until something beyond me robs me of the ability. I will learn and follow the pattern. I will giggle at the idea that I don’t know what’s going on, like I don’t care, like I can’t change it, like it’s new, like it’s special, like I’m not capable of turning my thoughts to deconstructive tendencies. I will look like however I think you need me to look. I will fail in the ways you respect as failing. I can’t escape it! I can’t do anything but talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and fucking, fucking, talk. But that’s what I’ll do. I don’t know what else I could do.

So new way of thinking…It involves a greater resolve to “roll with the punches.” It lets people get away with a different and significantly greater degree of murder. It subjugates free will and marginalizes it to a variable point of obscurity. For as much as I think I want to be the arbiter of my fate, I do not pretend things didn’t come before me. Whether this has the proper bearing on where I’m to go and what I’m to do is yet to be established, but it’s important to play out as many scenarios as I can come to realize. Either something is dramatically wrong with this person who thinks that they have “all the answers” who wakes up at 2 and plays a game he hates whilst realizing he has a joke to show for the amount he wants to really express, or something deeper and significantly misunderstood is going on underneath it all that may be realized by shifting how I can manage to conceptualize myself. The very prospect puts butterflies in my stomach.

A significant part of me knows “to what end” is a ridiculous question. Any and everything I could accomplish can and will be erased by time. BUT to the extent that it existed in the first place, that can never be denied. To the extent it worked for what I advocated and worked for, fuck what happens a million years from now, I made the kind of world or developed a paradigm in which people didn’t have to hate what I hate. People, or moreover, the ones I give a shit about, didn’t have to struggle with the same shit I did. Forget the endless unbearable thoughts that I would love to say “you’re human now for suffering what I have.” Now I’ve really made the kind of world where one can simply exist and meditate and love and care and whatever hippie fuck idea you think should fit in next.

I need to be part of a cycle. I need to get used to the idea that I am simply part of a, potentially endless, trend of existence that goes from conscious to unconscious and back again and that merely observes what the fuck can happen. Maybe not what’s supposed to happen or what’s destined to happen, but everything that in fact can. The net energy level of the universe is 0. Not positive, not negative. Not hot or cold. It just “is.” So all the energy spent worrying, judging, pretending like we have a fucking clue, is merely balancing a bigger equation than we know. As infinitely up my own ass as I am, as much as I love to idealize Nick P. and what it means to be me and how no one has my history, I’m essentially an irrational concept thrown together by a confluence of inert forces that perhaps inevitably led to me writing this blog at this time. It’s more than a little humbling if such is the case.

You need to win too. You need to equate me, not de-thrown me. You need to realize just how much is and can be. You need to realize that you are the world. You are reality. You are the world! It’s the best defense against someone like me and it’s the only recourse to actually giving yourself a fucking prayer for the future or your meager conception of self in it. I will truly win when this is the message I get across. I will have beyond everything when you are drunk with power at a whisper of my words. You fuckers are just going to make me work for it though.

It’s ridiculous the amount you have to work before you can even get around to working. I would love to spend 23 hours a day on something that actually mattered and existed to forward the ideas I have come to believe can shape and change the actual landscape of reality. Turns out it’s not enough to graduate college, open a business, read and write until you can barely make sense of words, or maintain some level of moral high-horsery. No, you have to scrape. You have to take orders from absolute idiots who by virtue of being a little older or starting with a little more money put them in a position to try and tell you the kind of employee or person you need to be. You have to fight with your arms tied behind your back when representatives of a billion dollar company take bets on your success or failure and lie to you to the tune of thousands of dollars. You gotta have money to make money? By what method do you get that initial money without resenting yourself, the people you’ve worked under, and the very existence under which you struggled so hard to endure?

What if it isn’t about the lofty thoughts? What if it isn’t about the labor? What if it has nothing to do with “the future” or “potential?” What if always right now there’s something being completely overlooked or unaccounted for that puts the state of the world in order that can quell the disconcerting thoughts and align itself as the proper tract to walk? It’s not resolving myself to fate; it’s a commitment to ignorance. It’s “not even trying” (read: being effortless) because I’ll never actually know the extent of the consequences. It’s a commitment to less stress and judgment to see if my mind will still bring me round to where I’ve sat so comfortably inevitably anyway. It’s still a search for fulfillment, but I get to stop blaming myself so dramatically. It’ll hopefully find more words as I spend more time under its spell.

[294] Idealize The Man

What if complete and utter empathy is possible? What if it is not only possible, but required? Empathy as I understand it is about an understanding of feeling. It’s the infinite sadness of losing someone you love. Maybe it’s the awkward settling in to a new social scene. Some know the ability to be pushed to absolute rage that negates pain and the passage of time. You may talk to a therapist or best friend about your experiences and they’ll say “I understand” like everyone trained to engage/dodge where you’re coming from. But when is it the best talk? Is it platitudes and a rub on the back or when they immediately know what the next course of action is? Do you want someone to tell you they understand, or guide you through in a way that validates your feelings when the words are never enough? Understanding of feeling; true compelling empathy that moves someone in the way they know you need to be moved.

I argue (read: hold various strong stances towards or against things) constantly and talk a bigger game than anybody I know. I know that I do not translate my message that makes others feel it like I want them to. There is a lot of trouble you can get into if you relegate everything you think or feel to talk. Luckily, I act, but nowhere near the amount I talk. I sort of feel I’m in a perpetual dress rehearsal. It’s like one day I’ll get my TED talk and lay my case out so brilliantly and like Nick P, you will be forced to walk away from it moved to action. That feels like a worthy challenge or intellectual pursuit. I just have entirely too much theory and not enough data.

And that data can come in many forms. Before I’m anything, I want to be pragmatic. If I wasn’t able to pay the bills, maintain a friend, or even scrap the surface of pop culture or politics, I don’t think you should even bother with me. Data for instance with the turning my car into a cab thing. I already worked a cab job, I already know there’s room for more cabs and more getting drunk people home safe, and I know how much money there is to be made. Until I come home with a few hundred bucks in hand, I don’t even believe me. Granted, I find this odd, but if I didn’t believe it at least in some very important way, I wouldn’t pursue the endeavor in the first place. It’s a mismatching in understanding between expectations for the not experienced future and the ever present now. Maybe I just need to refocus on “ignoring the future.”

I wonder sometimes how much of my experience is because “I’m fairly certain this is the correct thing” played against “this is novel.” It really does take, what feels like something special, because it’s so few and fleeting, to get me excited. Accidents, taboos, spur of the moment decisions, stirring up emotions or conversations that I’ve forced into existence. It’s not so much “risk seeking behavior” as it is “something worth contemplating” or “something that might dramatically change the perspective of all involved.” When I think of the million and a half reasons people don’t do things, I always settle on the very fact of my decision to do so being the only one that matters. If I decide, I win. And people don’t empathize with that.

I can feel fear and uncertainty. I’m perpetually doubtful. I’m always going to go too far and have to make nice. But I’m still going to explore. I’m still going to take a chance. I’m still going to know that there is a simple enough take on a complex picture that can take the infinite uncertainty and see it tamed. It’s empowering in a way that you can’t help but be respectful. It’s “too much power” tempered by the endless perspectives it allows you work with and think about. It’s something I wish everyone felt. It’s something that should be freely exchanged via shared experience. In my mind, in many ways, it’s how I idealize humanity.

I don’t consider myself, necessarily, a good person. I know I’m frequently capable of going out of my way to be a bad one. Underneath these empty judgments about myself is a basic inability to call anything good or bad without a context. I have the freedom to forgive or condemn, not the obligation. I have the potential to flip a desk and crack a foreign fuck cab driver in the face equally to the potential to walk away. Whether you choose to accept circumstance or fate, given the many more ways I have to alleviate problems in my life, I found it “best” to walk away. May your god help you if you think I’d never do otherwise. With this in mind, I see my goal heavily characterized by a burden to create context.

For as good a shit talker as I can be, I need to make sure as many of my actions are far from judgments that don’t take into account how I think a future maybe healthy society should behave. This is a far cry from making excuses for peoples’ behavior. I’m not going to abstain from holding a door open for a fat person because “they need the exercise” for example. But as far as interpersonal relations go, I’m hard pressed to move much beyond basic civility, at least currently. This I think mostly comes from what I see from history. People need a thick skin, they used to have a thicker skin, being kind of dickish to dicks or dick-like things merely flavored the overall conversation. I also think it’s a nice spring board to the even harder conversations that require honesty, accountability, and introspection.

I suppose one of the methods I’m dying to see the results of is rewarding the personality. I literally want to enable people to be more of the kinds of people they are. I think there is a forgotten dividend to respecting respectable people and cultivating a culture of people you want in the future. I think there is a big guise we operate under where life is this thing that happens to us and we have to deal with. I mean, the very reason I don’t go insane is a commitment to creating something new and touting that which I find worth respect. I freely obligate myself to a world that could eventually make sense filled with people I don’t perpetually hate. I want to contribute to the pool of resources you can dip into to feel where I’m coming from. Because god knows it must be hard to follow a lot of these blogs.

In a weird way, I feel like when “I win” everyone does. And I’m not winning until everyone actually is. The fate of my happiness or action/inaction is intimately tied to the degree in which you actually feel it. I want to send a message that can be heard a billion different ways that results in a single thing; a feeling of infinite potential. I want us to arbitrate the context. I want us to write and rewrite and rewrite the rules until the exercise becomes as absurd as the presupposition. We need to feel what we idealize or we’re stuck with what we fear and hate. What we fear and hate will never “disappear” to the realm of merely informing our perspective until we know there’s something more. No, I don’t think it’s something that can be given to you by a sky daddy or guy in a fancy robe. So, that’s where I come in.