[420] Suffer the Fool

How do you make someone suffer?

Regard the quiet hell of resenting everyone in a room as they play out tired stories and pretend to be a family. Think of the infinitely remote place you must inhabit to criticize your own silence with more self-deprecating passion than you could ever spew in hate-fueled epithets. Sitting and simmering, how you manage to keep your hands or voice from shaking is beyond comprehension. You want them to feel it.

This is a fairly dramatic depiction of what I’ll call “the fire in my belly.” While I’m arguably always primed to recognize or comment on what I consider shitty and stupid about the world, I’m so used to it that I’m not a 1 to 1 mock up against a ticking time bomb, but under the right circumstances, I’d deeply enjoy the explosion.

You can suffer your existence. I think in no small way a significant, if not the majority, of people are in fact doing so. Any “intellectual” failing I could point out about society is many degrees removed from some failure in health I could be experiencing. I wouldn’t try to equate the two. And for my purposes, I want other people to “feel my pain” in the realm of suffering fools.

This is going to be a struggle to speak deliberately about.

I’ve said a number of times how I’d be happy to never hear another opinion. Maybe it’s something easy like TV. I’ve seen somewhere around 350 shows to completion and 1400 movies. At a certain point, it becomes really dumb to ask things like “what’s your favorite” or “which one is the best.” Same goes with food. It can literally be trying to compare apples and oranges and open a window into arguing about what’s happening on your tongue. I suffer the person who tries to “logically” explain why “Arrow” is cooler than “Agents of SHIELD.”

But I consider the problem more serious and don’t feel the TV and food analogy selling it. Take your family. The majority of my friends have divorced parents, and the few that I can think of as still being together are arguably lying to themselves. If I were to make a claim about marriage, how much would we be comfortable allocating points towards opinion verses data? Can we claim a mutually identifiable and representative number related to the problem that informs the opinion? I think so.

The consequences of disagreeing about how apples taste or whether or not “Arrow” has some of the shittiest dialogue you’ve ever heard are significantly less than if you disagree about what constitutes a healthy relationship. But, in my experience, people seem to want to treat the playing field equally. Moreover, they seem to have an impossibly hard time differentiating the emotional component that would hold a grudge or break a friendship as they scream, “of course Stephen Arnell’s face moves!”

The problem is when it gets personal. “But she’s my MOM!” You have years of experiences with a person who stands for a hardly defined amount of good or bad things towards your life. Here I suppose is where I would try to visualize a layering of suffering. At the top, say superficial layer, you put up with rules you don’t like or maybe quantify every “I hate you” from your teenage years. Maybe around the middle, you hold your tongue about some of her views regarding “the fags” or “how she wishes you’d come back to god.” The third is the most encompassing layer. It’s the one I wish I could teach people how to suffer deeper.

Call it the “existential level.” It’s where things get overtly impersonal, paradoxically by virtue of doing so, all the more personal as decision making takes on a defining significance. It’s where you do your best to stand back and appreciate the feelings for what they are and attempt to “count” how this person would rate on your ideal conception of someone you got along with. It gives you rules, sets goals, and allows you to approach your interactions with them in a context that shows regard for more than your gut impulse feelings. You try to adopt the persona of their most “real” friend who’s not clouded by ever having had her read bed time stories to them.

I consider this suffering a kind of, if not a better conception, of empathy. In a family structure, a lot of bad behavior is protected because of, what I consider very tired and very bad lumped together ideas of what constitutes a “family.” I’ve had an aunt who was regularly beaten by her husband. They’re still together not least of which because they’re on the overtly religious side of the family. My mom is bat shit,  and my uncles have stolen money, time, and been completely unappreciative of anything my dad has done for them. My dad is a man after my grandma’s heart in wanting to be there for his family in continued dinners and interactions.

My question is what happens next if we don’t suffer these “fools?” What if instead of getting bogged down, abused, and hurt by people who are either too lazy, unwilling, or incapable of recognizing and respecting, we focused on smaller worlds we put together? My mom is a mind fuck. I goaded her into filing a restraining order. I got to sit back comfortably for 2 years knowing she couldn’t contact me. All I see is a win.

The bigger point seems to be that when we allow it in our “shells,” be it personal lives or families, we’re saying “that’s okay” to the behavior at large. We give license. We establish it as “normal” and “acceptable.” How many huge issues like war or poverty aren’t really small “it’s cool if he dies” or “I’m still good if they don’t eat?” The shitty behavior doesn’t exist in a vacuum.  What that person is or isn’t made to think about will bleed into the rest of the world.

I think at this juncture someone would say “well, treating them well is a good behavior that would bleed into the world as well.” And I’d have to disagree that it’s treating them well. Think of a spoiled child. If they don’t see privileges reduced or are set up to be encouraged when they’re doing the right things, they’re going to carry on being a little asshole. Being a “base animal” is easy. We’re always struggling with our roots. Ignoring our role in sustaining an environment that would raise everyone up is at our own peril.

And this is why I want people to feel that “existential suffering.” I want the world tomorrow to be a little better than the one today. The only way that’s possible or quantifiable is to be aware of when, why, and that you in fact speak up or change your behavior to expect something more out of our animal instincts. While I still don’t think there’s some sort of “peak man” and that we may be racing to nowhere in the nothingness, I still prefer motivated goal-oriented discussions to shit slinging.

The worst part is that it’s lonely, for a while. The thing for me though is that I prefer to be a loner shitting on things than jumping between groups of things I hate. I don’t need crazy ideas from my “mom” anymore than I need the hundred bucks at Christmas from my uncles who’ve stolen thousands from my dad. It’s the same habit that cuts out friends who arbitrarily start hating me after becoming afraid I’m going to disrupt their “cozy” life invariably built on some lie I’ll find it impossible not to put a voice to.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t think this is going to happen. I’m as much choosing my little island as you may choose to suffer the people in your life. The important difference, to me, is I’m doing me very deliberately. I slut-shame myself when I’m reduced to shitty company or poor decision making. My default isn’t “but it’s family!”-esc cop-outs, as if I had a choice to be born to a crazy person.

I do not get the impression, at all, that people feel even remotely in control of what they’re doing or what their world looks like. They’ll claim they are, but ask them five pointed questions and you’ll learn how quickly you’re a terrible asshole who shouldn’t dare question the integrity of their decision making!

So maybe try a little harder. Confront your least confrontational friend with what you actually think. Refrain from “going along” with something that makes you sick. Find an island from which you can advocate for something more, not just to retreat to because you’re too stressed out or afraid. And then, maybe tell me when you get there. Because as I get older, I seem to only find people getting worse.  It’s like they’re trying to duct-tape together frames from a Disney dream world of ideas ever-justified by their waning enthusiasm for being alive. Seemingly stuck as they forget what it feels like to live for something more.

[xx-9] Sins of a Family

For those of you that don't know, my grandma died about 3 months ago after suffering a stroke and falling down the stairs. She never regained her faculties and needed to be watched 24/7 because initially could still fall out of bed and wander in a daze. She couldn't eat and had to be fed through a feeding tube in her stomach. She had to be carried to the bathroom and have a nurse come in to bathe her. She "lived" out the last 6 years like this in my dad's living room while both he and my step-mom were her primary care takers.

My dad is one of 4. He's got one older brother and older sister, and one younger brother. Both of the brothers have had managing or well-paying jobs most of their lives and graduated in years where degree meant high-paying job. One has lived with my grandma for 35ish years, moved out once for a few months, then came right back. The other has lived as modestly as a college kid must his entire life. These are not people who've struggled for money or need anything. There was some form of schedule where they would come in and sit and take care of my grandma and provide breaks for my dad and step-mom. This was to save face with my grandma's sisters and have a pleasant story to tell all the old Serbs if anyone asked.

They didn't just come in an relieve for a few hours, they had to have the expensive cable. They did their laundry, they ate much of the food, and did everything you'd suppose of a person who lived somewhere. This, in case you hadn't guessed already, makes your utility bills skyrocket. You see, one didn't pay those bills because he lived with mommy. The other had his modest apartment his whole life; the difference in price can be dramatic. They didn't just bring their habits. They also brought drama between them and my aunt who couldn't dare see my grandma for the half hour every few weeks if either of them were there. So imagine 50 year olds throwing tantrums about "I don't wanna see your stupid face while I visit my dying mother!"

There comes a time when the mortgage is in question. My dad doesn't know if he's going to lose the house. He's an iron worker and work is spotty and it wouldn't be so bad were it not for all the expenses of taking care of a dying mother and wasteful brothers weren't involved. They assure him "it's okay, there's a provision in ma's living will that allows for the payment of a mortgage or utilities in the event she has to be taken care of." My dad says okay and carries on.

This is for 6 years people. 6 years of having people in and out of your house. 6 years of care giving. 6 years of wondering how and if the bills will get paid.

Time comes and my grandma dies. She didn't play favorites and the will is clear: divide up the assets, split it 4 ways. This includes CDs, the sale of the house, and whatever she had in savings. The reason I'm getting to restart the coffee stuff is savings bonds she had for all of her kids and the grand kids. Well, you can't scrape a name off a savings bond, so everyone got those distributed. The rest was to be divided between her 4 kids.In order to make sure this got done, my grandma signed my uncle up as the executor of her estate. In his capacity he and my other uncle are trying to squarely fuck my dad out of his portion of the inheritance.

Now I don't believe in sin, but I'm positive that the word comes from actions like these.They invite my dad over, explain to him that they aren't selling my grandma's place and the money it took to keep the house running is coming out of his portion alone. You know, the house they practically lived in and didn't pay for....for 6 years....where their mother was taken care of. They want to keep her house "because ma signed it over to us." Which if one listens to my grandma, who made sure to tell EVERYONE what her intentions were for the house, she didn't. They didn't pay for that house, and signing over "take over the selling of my house responsibilities" is not "here's a free house after you've fucked your sibling and his wife for taking care of me." The CD's that would be split up don't mature for another couple of years.

This is why I don't have a conception of family. My grandma and my dad are the sole reasons I haven't ended up in prison for reacting the way I believe is genuinely and morally required in situations like these. It's not just that they're greedy, they're shitting all over the legacy I promise you my grandma would be in tears about leaving when it came to what she believed about family. Both my grandparents put all of their kids in college, helped out their neighbors, worked extremely hard and never left anyone out to hang no matter how dramatically they'd been fucked in the past. And these are their kids. Shameful and pathetic don't cover it. It's a fucking sin

[419] Not So Fond Farewell

I'm struck by how often I'm reminded that you can't rely on anything. Moreover, the harder you try, the more instances it will sink in that you can, in fact, rely on things going to shit. This alone isn't what distresses me. After all, the rule is entropy. Though I will continue to be perplexed as to the hows and whys of the failure.

The specific situation is a friend no longer liking me. This happens. I certainly know how to say and do things incorrectly that prompts some people to not like me. The confusing and frustrating part is when I haven't really said or done anything to provoke such insistence that I'm no longer worthy or capable of their friendship.

Let's draw up a contrast to illustrate.Yelling, hitting, demeaning, stealing, lying...these lie on the extreme, easily justified reasons not to engage with someone. Farther down, you may have "quirks" or personality "failures" that cause people to only want to be with you sparingly or in specific situations. This is generally the realm where I identify most of the reasons I could understand someone no longer liking me.

I'm exhausting in my ability to tear things down. I'm really bad at not saying things, I'm told, "society" has a problem with. I get very pointed or seemingly argumentative when I want to know more about something you think or claim to feel. If I had my way, everything ever said would in some way reduce to being about sex. I mean puns and innuendos of course. So, I very much get it.

But, mostly the people who stick around, at least pretend, to get it as well. It's not that I have to behave like the above, but it speaks to the default easy way I relate to the world. I'd like to believe that if it was too grating or inappropriate, someone would let me know. After all, we became friends in spite or because of it,no?

It gets weirder though. I tend to lose friendships for things that come COMPLETELY out of left field, at least to me. I consider myself a fairly introspective person. I get plenty of gut instinctual reactions if our dynamic has changed. For the life of me, unless I say something blatantly terrible or am going out of my way to treat you like shit, I never seem able to catch when a particular conversation, in our years of conversions, was the one that sent you over the edge.

Say we hooked up. Of course I'm going to make jokes about being jealous if you get a boyfriend. It also doesn't mean that he isn't kind of an asshole if I felt the need to tell you, but that's something else. I've made jokes like this before, and it certainly wasn't because I consider you "meat."I would think if it was that disrespectful or icky to you'd say,"hey, not cool man, dial it back" or "was that meant to be as shitty as it felt?" Because, overwhelmingly, the answer is no. It's what I would consider an "obvious" no, given that we've known each other or gotten along for say, minimum 3-5 years, and that isn't randomly "beyond" how or what I joke about.

You get this sense that you're not given the benefit of the doubt so you can then be summarily dismissed.

Now, I have a theory. I don't think there really is a line, at least not one marked by the superficial things like misinterpreted conversations. My instinct is to try and discuss and identify what's gone wrong in order to maintain the friendship. But, sometime's I'm met with someone who persistently wants to frame me and my intentions in nothing but a damming light. So, I think something else underwrites that insistence.

As to what that is, it's really anyone's guess. Maybe they resent you. Maybe they've stock piled things thy don't like about you for years and now the flurry of accusations and character portrayals are their artistic interpretation of the monster they've concocted. Maybe you remind them of something or make them think in a way that doesn't jive with the life they've set up. Maybe they just got bored with you.

For me, time spent or good conversations aren't accidents. So, then neither is distance or shitty conversations. I feel like I make such a priority of trying to own when and why I could be considered an asshole, that I don't think it's fair or that I deserve to be surprised by your dishonesty. Don't be afraid to go away or tell me what I did wrong. I don't kick and scream and I've never approached a conversation with a friend where I was deliberately trying to sever all ties over some small misunderstanding.

It occurs to me as well that I'm sick of feeling like I need to lay down on some sword. 95% of you I haven't seen in years or barely talked to even in chat. I've set myself up as a kind of personality apologist as if I just go around kicking babies and yelling the N word while expecting you to "deal with it." Here's a less nice way to say it. If you're over me, get the fuck out of my life, as I really don't feel like I'm doing anything wrong.

I don't think there are enough people who care to appreciate the significance of an apology and conversation. The fact that they can lead you on for years as if to speak towards that dynamic that you could share, is quite the let down.

[418] Wherefore Art Thou Romantic

I’m not a romantic. ::pauses for gasps::

My instinct is to say is that it’s because I don’t like lying. More specifically, I don’t like lying about stupid things. Of course I can white lie my way through day to day pleasantries or to save my ass or something. But I don’t like lying about how I actually feel or what I think is actually happening. It seems stupid to try and delude myself.

I consider myself extremely lucky to have my whiny angst ridden rants about being in love as a teenager. These things are powerful, and not just in their powerfully poor wording or strong admonishment of paragraphs. “Love stuff” and “hopey dreamy changey” shit is the most powerful force after all of the 7 deadly sins. It’s really the only option people consider when they’re not trying to excuse away their deliberate bad behavior.

It feels like bad behavior. It feels like trying too hard. It feels like a show. The movie moment is no more sincere than the actors portraying it. Every story about undying love carrying you into the future is bullshit. But, we’re an older crowd now. We know this already, right?

Because I don’t think we do. Maybe it’s not in your relationship. Maybe it’s in your friendships. To be sure, romanticism, can blanket its fair share without ever getting all the way to the L word. Who’s your “best friend” and why? When you stop texting them or letting them know you’re in town, do you just call that “growing up?” Because in response to one guy’s short story, 1500 people on reddit certainly agree that’s what it is. We’ve certainly seen the portrayals of best buds on the playground growing up and toughing it out in the movies. How soul crushing to have to move on and be an adult! 

It’s this single dialogue I’m tired of. My “best friend” is a relatively emotionless sociopath not unlike me. We relate because of our mutual “shit on the world as it actually deserves” and “achieve things in ways no one else tries” perspective. You could be my best friend tomorrow if you operated like that. Connection is about shared perspective. You lose the “romance” of your togetherness when you don’t respect it for what it is. It’s when you become disillusioned about it not living up to a, very likely to be unrealistic, standard.

You’re my friends, presumably. It’s because I either enjoy, or at one time enjoyed and keep crossing my finger’s you’ll return to, your perspective. It’s not really a rating system. I’m not trying cry myself to sleep at night because you have different things you want to do that have nothing to do with me. I know that I can expect out of me a kind of allegiance to you. It’s all I have control over. If you need to “grow up” and it involves never talking to me again, that’s on you. I consider myself your friend because I like You, not what you’re supposed to mean as apart my emotional crutches for the future. 

I try to choose to “have it all” in the company I keep. Nothing more, nothing less. I think this only becomes hard to understand when you look past how much is there already. I don’t really “wait it out until things are better.” I’m not dreaming about one day conducting my life on blissful autopilot. I fell under what feels like a very isolating spell, but it’s better than feigned enthusiasm and wishful thinking. I used to consider it “adult,” but that’s proving to be as nonsensical and arbitrary a term as you could hope for. Oh well, guess it’s back to letting things happen around me.

[417] Talk Down To Me

I'm plagued by a thought that the whole of existence rests on contradiction. Alone, this sentence sounds ridiculous and I'm hopefully going to make it less so as I carry on.

The image that comes to mind is Oprah.If her face doesn't exist somewhere on a brand of tampons, I'd be surprised. She's a wave of influence about really almost anything.But she's a kind of bat shit. Because she's doing what she's doing in the name of charity or happiness though, the people who ended up screwed on their taxes by claiming their “free” car stories are generally ignored.

It's' a a language of wide-eyed wonder and motivation that tends to placate what's actually happening. I never see the kind of enthusiasm and push genuinely without this shiny veneer. A beautiful new city gets built on the backs of slaves. A fervent political movement seeks to “protect our values” and “promises it's not racist.” A handicapped baby is god's plan to teach me patience and understanding.

I just read an old piece of mine echoing George Carlin sentiments. Carlin will never be Oprah. He can be insanely more reliable and correct than Oprah could dream of, but he won't take on godlike status outside of the cynical comic culture. Hell, it was Robin Williams who took on the larger than life position, and maybe take a moment to think about what we did to that conversation.

It makes me immediately turned off to things that are “flowery,”“metaphysical,” “cheesy analogy about awareness, being awake,or how goddamn beautiful and exciting everything is.” It seems like such a deliberate act. And yet never will you find more energy and praise than when it's done at full throttle. It's a religious energy.“Righteousness” justified, even if it's only done so by tricking your perception.

You can state the facts of our complicated existence and it can still never be magic. I'm more water than meat, more space than water, more bacteria than human cells, and have had experiences I may never find the right words to (on or off acid). But because you're not speaking about what people want to believe you're never going garner the same kind of support. We “hoped”for “change” with Obama, but we weren't specific about what things were supposed to change into. Don't read too far into some political ideology. The point is the language and preying on perception verses reality.

Maybe it's “forbidden love.” Boundless, all-forgiving, let alone so consequentially obvious! Yet speaking to every level of drama and strife that often stand as some of the worst experiences in your life. Calling it a naive endorphin rush is no fun.

I'm fairly tired of hippie guru bullshitters trying to intellectualize via not-that-modern metaphysics or beautify steaming piles of shit. I don't consider the exercise worthwhile, honest, or helpful. And the idea that it's only after people “meditate” and “reflect” on those “lessons” and “truth” from hence springing motivation and enlightenment is sickening.

[416] Unhappy with Your Riches

I think I’m going to change my tune a little bit and say that I am indeed searching for something. Often people tell me they hope I can find whatever it is. The idea of looking for something hasn’t really sat right with me. The things people tended to associate happiness with once they were “found” always seemed like something of a lie or short-sided. When I think about what I’m looking for, it basically sucks to think about because I can’t really give it to myself.

It’s one thing to desire a kind of job, for example. It’s very tangible and there are often guidelines you can follow that assure you you’ll get there. My “inevitability” idea that practice plus time tends to equal a polished version of what you were practicing makes a goal in that vein feel incomplete. There are certainly a lot of really cool jobs that take a lot of study and expertise. People make plenty of claims about the happiness and fulfillment they get from working on what they’re passionate about. That’s fine, but it doesn’t really sit right with me in our current climate.

Let’s quickly move through a few ideas I’ve already talked in detail about. I’m interested in too many things. More to the point, I’m interested in what ties them all together. I describe this as being concerned with culture. On top of leaning towards a “big picture,” I feel little to no, or very particular, motivation to “prove something” as it were. I don’t have significant financial obligations, very many people I respect who expect anything out of me, and have worked myself to literal exhaustion and nearly passing out in previous projects.

But how does one go about expressing their interest in “everything?” How do you look for it and is it even possible to define or find?

I think it easiest to describe how I envision the process by starting with something small. Let’s take gun violence. It’s important to note, I even relate to it as “small” deliberately. It kills about as many people as influenza and pneumonia a year, but you’ll never see as many images of people coughing as you will memorials and photos of dead black kids. If you’re awake, you’ll have noticed presumably every possible angle you could engage with the topic.

Whether you start discussing police training, America’s general “gun culture,” not-so-passive racism about poor people’s accountability and sensibilities, the ease of access, the various kinds of weapons, the state of mental health care, militarization of police…the list goes on.

What bugs me is that I think I see something that supersedes the mess of “national conversation” that manifests as pointed ignorance in comment sections and “news” sounding chambers. Rarely, if ever, does the mass preponderance of conversation center around economies. Rarely, if ever, does a conversation revolve around the environment or reasons that stem beyond a very, what I consider small-minded, idea of culpability.

So I want to be an economist, psychologist, or sociologist? No.

I see a general “bad philosophy” from certainly a ton of people, but from my window of the U.S. I’d want to be someone who could address that. I want numbers to drive an ethos and not in the way we worship money. This can go wrong like Bill Gates responding to education numbers or right like Bill Gates responding to the number of people who die from malaria. I think his driving ethic remains “more noble” than your average rich person who doesn’t need to know anything more about charter schools or vaccines than the numbers they’ll return on a quarterly earnings report.

Take Elon Musk in how he talks, and why he’s in business. I think “he” needs to be national policy. Where’s the department for making sure more people like him exist? Or, how do you get people to recognize and appreciate what he’s doing? Creating and investing for the future because it’s right and just and profits come second. He’s acting in good faith towards the whole of humanity.

So I want to be in promotions or marketing? Perhaps ambassador to the world of lefty moral elites? No.

My first, and kind of last, idea I’ve managed to have to be like Musk is to go into business for myself. It feels like I need to create an engine. Here we can use an appropriate car analogy. If you think of big car manufactures, your grandparents might be prompted to say they built “just fine” engines that got you around, are immortalized in certain models, and spoke to the industrial backbone that made America dominate. The actual history and consequences of that engine are less than ideal.

We built an economy around combustion and fossil fuels. I could build my engine in all sorts of ways. I could exploit pyramid structure themes. I could work 22 hours a day in any number of jobs. I could leverage myself monetarily and through enthusiasm and smooth talk bolster my numbers and research. I could dye myself in the wool of endless sacrifice and scrape together some machine that you’ll presume, as it took so long and much effort to get, is fundamentally worth taking pride in and bound to work.

I say this because of firsthand knowledge and accounts of what people say as you’re accomplishing things. They say them regardless of how you feel about what you’re doing or how you get there. It’s not always mere politeness. They’re reflecting the simple themes their culture has imbued. Whether it’s the almost spiritual righteousness of achieving in business or their uplifting faith in your temerity, it’s not a conversation of tempered expectations.

So this leaves me with an overt concern with all the pieces and circumstances that create my engine. To think how often you hear “war is good because it fueled our mission to the moon!” I find this horrifying, and not because it’s speaking truthfully about the circumstances of the era.

What I want to create takes a lot of moving parts. And learning directly the amount of things you need to create and run a coffee shop and delivery van, let alone build a framework to struggle with “culture,” is humbling and sobering to say the least. In a way, culture is the run-off of dominating power. And if most business power comes from operating in the shadows or manipulating politics, now the problem seems even more complicated.

But, what if you manage to find a way to wage one angle of your battle in the realm of ideas? My diminished hopes for the reach and capacity of language notwithstanding. What if you catalyze people to think like you or approach problems in a way that depersonalizes it? Make them realize they’re after the same sorts of things you are and that maybe their depression, anger, or hopelessness is conditioned. What needs to be created in the mind before you start playing in the real world?

Because that’s going to be the driving force. That sense, you can build to last. Whether it’s a charismatic leader who bleeds into every level of a company or a group of individuals who feed each other’s motivation and creativity, there are places you can “take the temperature” of culture. The scatter-brained nature of social media will always be “the struggle” more than the pulse.

So, I’m looking for more people “like me.” When I need money, or, significantly more than someone in my economic circumstances can expect, I do everything from drug studies to yard work to save up and experiment in business. The long-term planner and humility in me recognizes this as inefficient and something of a mockery of how I desire to operate. I do things “now.” I pick up the phone, or resolve the problem or read as much as my eyes can take about something in order to move to the next step. Employing that habit “alone” is not getting me where I want to be. I’m not culture, and dislike the thought of being on some kind of self-satisfied island complaining about or ignoring the parts I see as problems.

It pains me to think that in order to find the kind of enthusiasm and free time required is the purview of college. Unfortunately, much of the enthusiasm came from naivety and hedged betting. And my forays into employing from that pool are proving fruitless and stressful as well. If I picked, literally anything, I could find people with open arms and endless thoughts they’d love to share. Because I want something big and abstract and hard, it’s fundamentally alienating; even discussing it prone to ridicule, let alone confusion. I can’t expect to change knee-jerk reactionaries when I have no counter-culture to introduce them to. And I can only take so much solace in knowing I’m not actually alone as long as we’re failing to even discuss ways beyond our circumstances.

[415] Philosophy of Self

In response to the idea that something I wrote would be regarded as "pointless."

I think it best to focus on the very idea of "philosophizing about oneself." One might ask, where does the self begin? Whether you pick the moment of your birth, the first time you stared a little too long into the mirror, or codified your mind's eye by writing or creating something that needed to be expressed, the self is nuanced to say the least.

I often think about cliches. Incidentally, this was a running theme in the post that was considered "pointless." How much of "yourself" exists if and when you're able to reduce yourself to a set of cliches? Your age group liking the same things and commenting with the same references. Your "quirks" being regional or genetic. Your deeply held convictions the runoff of various power structures that all but physically conditioned you to hold them. Picking that apart takes a lot of time and a lot of words.

An obsession with self can run dramatically different directions. It seems to take a degree of honesty to not only recognize, but concede, the severity of the difference between those directions. If you're talking about your woes of being in love, it's going to be hard to sound less than indulgent, selfish, immature, petty etc. If you genuinely get off on the idea of putting people down for not knowing something, you probably won't get past your 2nd paragraph before the asshole tone starts to creep through.

I like to believe I write, generally, because I'm merely thoughtful or engaging with new terms and material. For my audience who's familiar, I never hear "you're pretentious!" or "ooooo so many big words!" The latter of particular intrigue given that I rarely have a fucking clue about which words someone is referring to. It was told to me that if I were a "clear and concise" writer, my blog "would appeal to everyone."

It's here that I feel two forces bumping up. The ever-changing, hardly defined, perhaps impossible to fully quantify "self" and the idea that it's not only just and proper, but preferred that it be reduced to, I don't know, the text that can fit on a meme picture? Surely no one believes a piece of anything is going to appeal to everyone.

But the idea of shortening things up does not come alone. You also were attempting spam, need to take writing classes, are trapped between 13-19, and certainly don't understand the underlying logic and preference of the hallowed forum that is reddit. Nay, without a single quote, attempt to answer a question, offered perspective, nor even soft lead in paying deference that the piece was even read, you've now been set up to be "criticized" by those, apparently significantly older and wiser than you. It is a very weird dance.

Now, I've personally beaten the word irony to death. In the complicated and contradictory self, it's not hard to find instances that frequently undermine things you'd like to firmly believe about yourself. And the underlying chronic ironic state of reddit is just something to accept and deal with.

In any event, if I'm discussing "people" or "reddit crowd/tone" or "myself as it pertains to (fill in new topic)" inevitably, it'll strike someone to respond. There is a range of responses. Here's where the irony kicks in, where what I would call "pathetic opinions" rush to defend their "criticism." They pile on the irony by appealing to reddit's habit of pretending to be a doctor, pretending to be a teacher, and generally pretending to have anything personally invested in their "defensible position." The thoughtful engaging discussions that run with the theme, they happen, but not as often as I'd like. It's the epitome of a mixed bag.

At this point you get to choose. You get to choose how you understand responses. You get to choose why you've written or bothered sharing. You get to choose your own responses, whether it's to quietly move on or switch to troll mode and provoke inanity. And as far as my self is concerned, I go with a mixed bag.

Writing to me is a kind of stark honesty. Not in that you're "striving to be honest." But words stare at you in a way that thoughts never will. It's a way to build something while deconstructing. That, often, seems to be a worthwhile point in and of itself. Thinking for the sake of thinking. I've never been compelled to write pages about my breakfast or how much I hate Halo.

I find it terrifying that this process would even accidentally, let alone persistently, be regarded as "pointless." One more point to irony when your loudest "critic" will tell you they feel sorry for you and your propensity for mental masturbation. As if it's bad to think, or to masturbate.

[414] You First

I spend a lot of time watching. It's to the point of being aware of being several kinds of cliché. If you look at enough personality surveys about introverts and extroverts, inevitably you'll find, not unlike with horoscopes, some condition, title, or description to identify with. Some researcher who's nailed down how “out of place” you may feel in different social situations, or your ability to be a solemn genius leering from the corner. It is at once interesting and a chance to gain insight about yourself, but also a chance to conceive of yourself very impersonally.

I'm hoping to describe the apex of being that infinitely-reducible cliché with individual choice and personality. It seems like with vigorous academic study of systems, it becomes really hard to blame any one person, even if upon being in a room with them, you might be roused to punch them for their culpability. Hating the sinner rather than sin if you will.

I'm going to deliberately refrain from paraphrasing Democracy Incorporated by Sheldon Wolin as I'll sound stupid, but reading it and combining the amount of time I've devoted to movies and TV shows is sitting oddly in my head.

It seems like a common idea to blame “the media” for something. The polarizing or surface scraping stories. The lack of accountability. Sourcing things like Buzzfeed or Twitter to bolster an argument or flame war. Even before the 24 hour sounding chambers of bad ideas, it seems to me people were still comfortable pulling things out of their ass. Right and wrong were no more garnered by the evidence and history “back then” as they are today. If you were a real news person, you had a reputation to protect, there were less sources of information, but it's significantly easier and in greater number the amount of sources studying or reporting on all walks of life. Today it's different means of taking in information, same (but more) metrics to evaluate.

With that in mind, how is it not your fault for being misinformed? Yes, there is a ton of information. But, if you can afford nothing else in modern society, is the internet not it? And, I mean, libraries.

When you read political theorists and teachers one disappears from the land of individual choices. It's really hard to reconcile ideas about how power moves or consolidates when you can't point to the roles of the staggering number of active and passive players. Paradoxically, we don't conceive of ourselves as nodes in an “inverted totalitarian regime” even if our behavior would suggest that's what we are. More to the point, we don't know what an “inverted totalitarian regime” really is, including me, and I'm in the middle of a book about it.

We try. The Daily Show and Colbert consistently attempt to mock and undermine the ridiculous dialogue of fear and self-justification. You can collect your corner of “real media” with “actual truth” and “on the ground” reporting. They're still trapped within a culture that's all but obliterated what words are supposed to mean. The idea of connotation going the way of Michael Bay. All the sordid details of environmental tragedy or criminal acts are broadcast daily, to what end?

Because what does your responsibility look like? I think one of the reasons I watch so much is because I don't know what else I can really do. I've given myself the burden of at least talking and reading about it, but I don't really believe freezing my ass off in the street with a witty sign is going to achieve something better. I've written to enough Congressmen and gotten their bullshit responses. Do I own my current society by being “passive-ish” in the same way that the money and policy makers do? My gut says, not really.

Ideology becomes the air we breathe. If you have the privilege of free time and the capacity to learn, then you get to fulfill that cliché of “angry academic type” who dreams of a world where we drop books instead of bombs. I can be as self-righteous in my knowledge to think “above it all” as a piddling religious type can condescend, and what do we each get for our effort? A chance to die with different fingers pointed?

While words attempt to nail down flowing ideas, before you've found new ones you'll reside under familiar umbrellas. Outside of your deliberate consciousness to act in any one moment, you'll float seamlessly into a category. “Poor 20-something male who loves Dave Ramsey and Tim Ferris.” “Inappropriate comment maker who's too smart for his own good who called school 'easy.'” “Tall 'alpha male' who's fought significantly more battles in his mind and with his fingers than he ever has in the street.” Sometimes it's a wonder what can be said about you that spans beyond The Simpsons, South Park, and The Onion.

For my part, it almost seems “more appropriate” or “more responsible” to just watch. The longer I go without a job, the more I start to think about the staggering amount of pointless and useless jobs. I would genuinely rather watch hours of TV and movies than doing anything “labor wage-esc” simply for a paycheck. I've never been part owner of any company I worked for. I was never paid more for extra time or extra effort. I want to own my effort, even if it's directed towards categorically easy things. I don't blame me.

That's another symptom of making things impersonal though. Your effort doesn't quite register as yours, or as strongly as it might have in the past. Am I being molded by my system? The complaints I had about school, the problems I encountered in opening my business, the dwindling or unstable opportunities for my working friends, all foretold as consequences of political forces. One more echoed refrain to the sobering reminder of how much your life has been dictated by that which came before.

And it's a fine line between understanding that and excuse making. I'd rather own up to saying “my heart's not in it” than to describe in too many details the world that compels me to my basement. At the same time, I still recognize what my effort is likely to amount to. I know that it's not just an uphill battle, but someone's also greasing the hill. To get back into the game or attempt to persuade other people to do so involves a lot of canvassing the shifting field, at least for me. Running on sheer enthusiasm and will is not sustainable.

I don't know if I'm any closer to connecting my effort on the page to a kind of justified political will and organization that creates nice changes, but I do know I'm the only one at the plebeian level among my friends and cohorts who frequently bothers to publicly share his impersonal complicity. That's something right?

[413] From Ear to Ear

I kind of hope this is the last time I ever have to talk about this. It strikes me that I've only ever really danced around or made weird jokes instead of digging in. I've just gone through another round of watching fucked up immediate and accidental death videos as well as a few beheadings.

When I say another round, I don't mean to suggest it's like a hobby. As with many things that garner my attention, these videos made it to the front page of reddit in a forum where someone explicitly asked for them. I think there's more of a “general fascination” with something so fucked up and foreign to our daily reality than people having secret killer fantasies and getting off or something. Nonetheless, I'm sensing a ton of things that also need to be said, at least by me.

First, the mess of comments. Someone will point out that “we all could be like them.” It's a version of this that usually follows a discussion of WWII and the Holocaust. Then there's the gung-ho types who are positively sure the “answer,” as perverse as that feels to type at the moment, is to meet violence with violence. I think what strikes me the most, is that no one speaks to how afraid they would be. What seems like the real driving force for what makes these videos so jarring barely gets a nod.

At some level, everything we engage with is a kind of illusion. You can only focus on a spot the size of your thumb on your outstretched arm. Your eyes black out every time they change direction. You can stir all form of emotions from characters, real or animated. You buy into ideas about education or government that fulfill a kind of need for structure and purpose where the kind of depravity in these videos essentially disappears. To some extent, the videos act as an illusion, keeping the violence “over there.”

Part of me feels like I should be, or am, really fucked up that I could watch this shit and then switch back to Bunheads once I get done writing this. To hear someone's final “Oh God!” as a building crashes down on top of them. To see the blood gushing from a man's face after he shoots himself in the head. To watch 100 people burn alive. But I feel my “entertainment” has been helping me cope with things like this my entire life. Worse than that though, I feel like death isn't the worst thing some of these people could be experiencing.

I think there's kind of a “dream” end goal. To die in a bed in your sleep, right? Old as shit, basically egging it on, after you've achieved your numerous goals and know you have a few grandkids. Not mid speech with your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Not because a waitress accidentally sets you on fire or a brick falls off a truck Final Destination style and instantly kills your wife after hurling through your windshield.

Maybe reality is too scary. Maybe it really is just way too much of a random shit show to justify anything less than the measures we have in place to play along like we'll all get the solemn and dignified death bed scene. I speak to ridiculing fear very often. Granted, I'm usually poking fun at your inability to do little things like ask someone out or change your shitty job, but to your body, to your mind, fear is fear. “Irrational” fear still has consequences.

Take recent news. Have you ever been a cop who's been afraid? They aren't supermen after all. I'm certainly not saying anything less than a rabid liberal would about gun violence, police training, or poor black kids, but I also know on average cops die sooner than most people just from stress. To look at the moment, or 6, he fires in that vacuum is to sort of absolve the overall culture and context. Justified? Answer reduces to opinion. Understandable? Predictable? Alterable? Questions that encompass more than what you think of the cop as a person.

I'm drifting a little too far.

I look at these videos and I don't think to myself “this is evil,” and obviously not for the accident ones. To me, the essence of evil lies. That's not an incomplete thought. It's to look at something like this and to deny the world that created it. Evil is patient. It lies in wait. It unfolds in every look the other direction. In every “I could never!” It's when you refuse to learn. Horrible shit happens for insanely foreseeable reasons. And every time you absolve yourself of a little or a lot of the responsibility for creation, you ensure the shit will keep coming.

I've expressed a number of times that you need to feel it. And, I'm beginning to think that's wrong. Because I feel it, barely, but what makes me concerned or guilty or sick is attempting to own it. And because no one can make you, I don't see “the world” becoming a better place. How many people want to be responsible for this random, violent, and terrifying chaos? I haven't talked myself out of the prospect, but fuck me for the amount of unbelievable shit I'd be getting myself into. Help?

[412] In Defense of Being Smartish

Let me say I feel weird that I would even have to take up this kind of charge. I won't be trying to argue about how smart I am nor attack some general idea of stupidity. I'm mostly confused about what I've experienced and am worried about the consequences.

Reddit is amazing to me. It resembles a schizophrenic. That is, I can't ever tell when it's trying to be "real" or is an increasingly queer fantasy world. I'm not looking to nit-pick subreddits. You can be confounded by just what you get on the front page without scrolling.

It seems that if you say something "too smart," in that it takes on a level of detail and references, you're quickly down voted as pretentious or possibly linked to /r/iamverysmart. Mind you, no one bothers to qualify it as correct or not first, but if it comes across as from a kind of perspective that can't be accessed easily, you're immediately written off.

I read a lot of books. Immediately, I understand even saying that has put people off. As if reading has now given me special authority or actions of consequence. I hesitate to go through years of comments and bickering to support that insight. The problem with reading is that my mind goes to a lot of new places. As a result, I frequently write.

It may or may not be a secret that the more you engage in this reading and writing thing, you may start to talk less than colloquially. If you read about governments, your language may be dosed with that of political theorists and culture warriors. If you genuinely spend a lot of time with math or physics, you're not automatically a doosh by uttering the words "quantum mechanics" (I suspect I'm giving this crowd too much room, but the point remains.)

Some days I can find something I agree with that gets thousands of upvotes. A week earlier I may have extrapolated on and gotten in an excellent discussion about that very same thing, and it might get 2 votes. Other times I can carry on like the proverbial angsty teenager about some tiny topic underneath the umbrella of music, and get 18 votes. I know there's timing and "tl;dr" comments abound, but amidst this random chaos, reddit attempts this claim at an identity.

And, to me, it's the way-too pseudo self-awareness and "irony" that pollutes everything reddit touches. It's where "humor" becomes a cop out or formula. It's where "intellectualism" is the purview of /r/askscience or /r/askhistorians. I think this "hive mind" with so many bees not actually thinking the same thing destroys trust in information. It destroys willingness and capacity to sit with complicated things for long periods of time until they can be talked about collectively.

I think it acts in the same way ceaseless advertising does. It becomes normal to respond with sarcastic .gifs or from behind your fake degree in psychology or sociology. The meager rewards of gold or upvotes even less tangible than the stickers you may have received in grade school. I think I would hear an immediate revulsion "we're just dicking around on the internet!" sentiment at this point. Noted, don't care, not what I'm talking about.

I have a pretty non-optimistic view of not only my country, but our collective future, and our general understanding of...nearly anything...at this point. You know when you talk to an insanely smart teacher and they can't help but reference or frame things in ways you probably have to read a few books to appreciate? It sort of seeps out of them this secret world of time spent learning? Now, with nearly everyone I engage with personally or online, I sense no seepage. Most invitations to read something or share an experience are met as though it was an attack. By wanting a conversation or taking the time to unravel new thoughts, I'm often criticized as if I've done something wrong.

It's as if when you can't fit in to the kind of defensive, lazy, take-it-for-granted "this is how we do," you have no place here. It's exceedingly reminiscent of the computers and computing dorm I lived in in college. This spiteful pride in "whatever you'd call this hobby" and by coming here you play by the rules or gtfo.

I think people are lacking identity. I think they're lacking knowledge. I think these aren't just anecdotal reflections of me battling the loudest assholes on the internet. I think the reason their voices sound so loud is because "the rest of us," however that's quantified, are failing by playing their game and not calling it out for what it is. Bullshit childish laziness and prideful ignorance. I don't know if it's simple demographics, [deliberate] lack of leadership, or a deeper reflection of how people view their lives outside of a computer screen, but it worries me.

Why must everything be reduced to a caricature?

[411] Made Me Who I Am Today

The little things.

I'm going to start writing in a different mode. Too often I seem to take on an air as if I can actually do something about all that I shit upon. The problem, I still want to talk about things, but not come off as if I'm being prescriptive. It's too grating and weird for someone to think that I'm doling out advice when I'm as trapped in a basement as the next person. More striking, my only advice to get out of  the proverbial basement if and when I do would be “hit me up for money.”

One of the staples of living “happy” or “content” is to be able to focus on the little things. Focus on your family. Pick your favorite charity. Study something that speaks to your inner light and motivation. The accumulation of enough little things is supposed to lead to a kind of idealized future. At least this is how it seems to be sold to me. One way or another, no matter what prompts me to write or pisses me off, the argument is made to consider if not almost worship the little things.

I want to try and describe my understanding of naivety. Because I think it is a very powerful tool. When you're naïve you just get to “do.” You'll always be unaware of something, that's just being human. But naivety is the shield that protects the reasons you do something. If you don't know any better, then you have no reason to suspect why or how you should change. It's a platform. A springboard if you will, that launches whatever your agenda or beliefs onto the world.

One of the reasons “I'm so sad all the time,” so to speak, is that I've become aware of too many things that I'll likely never be able to fix. I also feel that knowing what I know means it's unjust and unfair to carry on as if I'm happier about our shared state of affairs than I really am. My “angry” perspective litters every conversation I have about “people” or “governments.” My analyzing of conversations or arguments means that I know how stupid a conversation is going to get before we've had it. I even know that in trying to navigate or head off the stupidity, I'll create even more!

So much of how we navigate the world boils down to power. Power is fluid. Power exists at all scales. Let me try to lay out a scenario that pollutes the majority of my conversations.

First, it's assumed that statements are simple. “We live in a democracy.”

Immediately, if you live in the US, you know it's not that simple. Nor really true. If it was true, it might be described as a “non-functioning democracy.” But, if you were the one asserting this line, you already have a stock of ammunition that would comprise your argument. You'll also find a way to explain this stock that assumes I don't know what a democracy is, nor am living in the reality of my failed one.

Take one round of ammunition and say “the power is with the people.” This alone disregards scale. Ballot initiatives may work, your school board may get thrown for a loop, and hats off for delaying a pipeline, but there's a deeper wound in your system. There's a filter before you get a chance to voice your opinion. Whether it's the candidate you follow, or the rights you're campaigning for. They have to be made to fit a script you get to read later.

In this same round of ammunition you get to hide behind the word “people.” Because who is people? People who aren't given a chance to vote? People who have been misled by propaganda? People *like you* with your informed substantial views that every reasonable person could come to accept? When you ask these questions, you turn it into something of a non-concept. Give me a number. Give me an initiative. Tell me the story of why a group may think one way or another. Then I'll start telling you about the nature of their “power.”

I look at consequences. If you're one of the king's subjects who can be beheaded at any time, every time you look menacingly at your pitchfork and remind yourself that the people outnumber the king, there's an entire world of power and consequences you are disregarding. And it seems so obvious so as it doesn't need to be stated, but I promise, it needs to be stated.

You can win a million little victories, and you'll still see your world burn. Whether you've been persuaded the world beyond your struggle doesn't matter, you take it for granted things will get better, or you ignore that it's even there, the consequences will still play out the same. And that's all I'm ever concerned with.

It's why I'm concerned when you don't feel as bad as I do. When you relay everything in terms of opinions. When you don't own your indifference! If we need to go down, at least own it! With any “luck,” or, with the right amount of money, I'll one day just be able to count. Just count and give a number to those consequences I harp endlessly about. You won't know what I think, you'll feel my 7 on a scale of 1 to 10!

I want to show, not unlike how Lawrence Lessig has, how small of a number can make you feel and think small. 10 Senators. 3 million dollars. 2 years. 50 phone calls. 30 thousand votes. 2 degrees Celsius. If I can just reduce you to a number, you'll finally feel like nothing. Variables in an equation where the screaming opinions can be silenced. God, what a dreamworld.

[410] War On Everything

There never seems to be a kind of peacetime. A time when you can relax and plan for the future. A time things feel stable or it's possible to get your hopes up. It's one battle to the next. It doesn't matter if you're tired, who was hurt along the way, or how much was sacrificed. Just keep fighting. You have to be lucky enough to draw motivation or pride in doing so, or all you can do is get tired.

It's the kind of tired that old gangsters talk about after too many of their friends have been shot for bumping up against the wrong person. It's the tired that causes a person in finance to kill themselves when something goes wrong or they're up for potential prosecution. (like that ever happens) It's the tired that takes a beaten brow and sore feet and makes them testify to the amount of sleep you need the moment your ass hits the couch. You're thrust into this fight. You're expected to pick up your weapon of choice and cut through those that would deny you or beat back those that would consume you.

And you need to take pride in it. You need to give yourself reasons. You need to defend your ideas about your ability, your purpose, your drive, your family, or your very destiny. Whether that destiny lies in a humble solitude enjoying the music of the birds as you devour literature or rockets you to the frenzied heights of Wall Street killing lest ye be killed every minute, there's a tone, a voice that has to quietly but persistently reassure you that this is okay, this is righteous, this is you.

I think we sacrifice that voice. To me, it feels so LOUD how trapped I am. It feels like no matter which friend I inquire about, no institution I'd like to trust, nor any new information I may stumble across allows for a reason to think in anything but desperate terms. And I feel exhausted. I feel defeated. It's like being beaten of everything besides "professional uncertainty." There's always hope in what you don't know!

I know how people do it. I know they ignore, deny, and pretend. I know they do it because they need to fit. They need to function. The world has to have some semblance of order or predictability. It just has to! Nobody means to sound like an insensitive sociopath. They don't mean to carry on like nothing else matters. But what choice do they have!? There's not enough time! The market has decided I'm to have an inadequate job and insufficient resources to recognize the world beyond my circumstances. It's a trap! And I couldn't have known, and I can't get out. Stop blaming me!

And they're right. And it's simple. And it's sad. Your mess is greed's fault. Your disintegrating future was trounced by pride. You were handed poisoned Legos and told to build to your heart's content and never mind all the coughing. And what a pretty castle! It's got gadgets, entertainment, and the finest garments. It's cost effective. It suits someone of your tastes and caliber.

Not all crashes come with a boom and a mess. They can start with a crack. They can fall in a forest where ears are unavailable. The invisible hand slaps more faces than you'll meet in a lifetime. But it will just be another blow against another soul in their own every day war. It's not your job to bother. It's not your place to question.

[409] Jive Turkey Talk

I keep thinking about the inadequacy of language. It speaks to why I'm stuck writing even as I figure things out. I've attempted to talk about myself and “feelings” or lack thereof. I can go on about politics or “isms.” I've tried to nail down relationships or how people feel towards “spirituality.” It just all feels exceedingly inaccurate. Or if not inaccurate, very incomplete.

I read an interesting thought process on language. Pre-language, if you were in danger, it might be a grunt from your fellow homo-whatever. That's all you needed. “Run you stupid cunt a tiger is about to munch on your ass” was leagues away. I think there's a kind of pull to relate to things that way. The most complicated issues we want to sum-up and say things like “Wall Street is evil,” “I love you,” or “not my problem.”

I can empathize with this, but I can't respect it. We're not baseline animals. We've taken up the charge, explicitly or implicitly, of being a collective that learns and passes on more than genes. If you need to just stay alive, you can find people who will grunt at you. If you're going to push your mind and maybe exist for something beyond yourself, you need to ceaselessly explore where it's taking you.

But talking is hard. I learn practically every day that there's like a force field in some peoples' heads about what you can talk about and when. You can make an analogy and someone can take two words from it and write paragraphs in response to their misunderstanding. You can start hurling accusations about the intent and capacity of the person you're talking to. You can defer to what you genuinely believe are sources of authority and smugly laugh at the other side's inability to accept your “facts.”

I think this is a kind of hidden back door to “consciousness raising.” Now everyone gets an opinion. And you can rest assured almost none of them are going to attempt taking in all of the information to make it a worthwhile one. The world, even if only through reddit, can ridicule America and it's treatment of poor black kids, dick headed ones or otherwise, and our backwards ideas about guns. None of whatever that ensuing meme picture conversation or judgment is going to save the next one or be what convinces police they don't have to shoot at any black person that moves.

“The masses” is an idea I'm increasingly convinced hurts discourse dramatically. The masses always exist as an opinion I only hear through a computer screen. It's just beyond my circle of friends. It's hidden behind “likes” and “upvotes” as if I know the person saying something stupid was being sarcastic or trolling or that the people upvoting aren't dyslexic or armchair anarchists. By invoking the masses you wield this connotative sword  that apparently trumps all inquiry into different dynamics of power. Do you blame rioters, or the step-dad? The North, or Lincoln? People who drive cars, or the people who subsidize oil? Ignorant poor homeowners, or the 11 people at midnight who fix rates and secure bonuses?

And blaming them all sure sounds righteous, but I as a “the masses” can't stop driving tomorrow, I'm not having his opinion nationally broadcast, don't sign checks, and likely couldn't fix my bow tie on a stock market floor.

This is why I'm such a fan of doing. When I didn't want to work a regular job, I opened my own. I can hear every opinion in the world about how I did it or what I accomplished, and the wind of their words didn't move the kiosk an inch or will drive the van around town. Real leaders and influencers are doing and the consequences of such make your opinion mute. Not that you can't talk, or feel good about it, but you're losing the ability to be humbled. Though, there's as many potential leaders as there are people.

I seek a way to lead with data. I want to crunch numbers and use them in service to ideals. It's why I look for those ideals in writing and then spend money on things I think will eventually get me there. Because I haven't done much lately, I'm feeling the burn of getting bogged down in inadequate language. So naturally, I needed to talk about it.

[408] Public Service Announcement Addendum

True to form, I go about talking and manage to fly all over the page without finding precise enough language. I stated that I wanted the PSA to be about what I'm not saying and then tried to describe something hard to define with an inadequate example. So I'll try to do better.

I didn’t mean to say that my situation revolves around a problem with being superficial. I get that with pleasantries we are all “perfect liars” in our capacity to carry on with a group of strangers. I didn’t mean to suggest that you are supposed to feel some sort of deep or meaningful connection that elevates them to a kind of long term investment or friend. The problem is not about being personable or disarming in and of themselves. The problem is not about the other peoples’ misconceptions or hurt feelings.

I felt it too redundant and obvious to carry on as if relationships don’t mean different things to different people. Am I not the poster child for talking about utility? I wasn’t seeking reassurance that what I have or create is “more valid” or at least “as valid” as someone who resolves their decision making in feelings.

I frequently remind people I’m only as good as what I do for them. To tell me I care about my friends almost feels like a challenge not to. My default contrarian “fuck you” as it were. Attempts to tell me where I’m coming from before you take what I say and try to unpack it or ask a question sit very poorly with me. This is not the same thing as not wanting feedback, but I’m writing to get at what I mean, so I don’t lose my mind, not to be “inferred” about and certainly not to be “reassured.” I know it’s coming from a good place, but it’s more confusing than anything else. I’m happy to own my incomplete idea or miserable sounding tone.

The problem feels more “general.” It feels more “blah.” It’s a state of mind, a consequence of personal philosophy or maybe inadequate access to expound upon a better one. I wanted to talk about the consequences of being aware of it permeating everything I do and say. It’s only ever “good” or “bad” to the extent I get comfortable with the varying consequences.

Whether life is arbitrary or not, I attempt to make sure “I’m” not being arbitrary. That’s in service to the “sociopath” part of “relative sociopath.” The times I look into the nihilistic abyss and only take away the adages of an angsty teenager, unnecessarily boisterous drunkard, or of an impersonal shoulder shrug. When I’ve gone out to “have a good time” because I took your advice and didn’t just fuck off in my basement like I wanted. Because I wanted. Because the string of my decisions and circumstances leading me there are “more correct” than doing otherwise.

The part of me that does that is the alienation by choice. The part of me that’s provoked people to cry, follow me into “battle,” or feel comfortable with what I’ve exuded as my presence is the alienation by internal condition. People don’t do what I do or sound like me. When they do, they’re Byron.

And it’s not like I think I’m talking about an impossibly foreign concept and that people don’t get it, but it’s like a huge pair of tits. My back has felt pain too, but I’ll never really know your struggle. Just like people know what it is to be “cold,” or mean, or delightfully superficial in their fitting into cultural lives, but I feel burdened by a capacity and proclivity towards those things that gives people a chance for an “emotionally unencumbered scapegoat.” If you hate your mom, I got mine to file for a restraining order. If you’re polite, I’ve already screamed fuck way too loud around all the children and fellow restaurant goers, several times. If you want something burned down, I have half the things we need in my trunk.

I think my utility, in that sense, is giving license, because I take mine. Do that enough or in an irresponsible way and someone’s going to start noticing the body count. It’s a toll taken on your psyche, relationships, and “potential accomplishments” depending on whose turn it is to define what those mean to you.

[407] Public Service Announcement

I want this blog to be about what I'm not saying.

I'm going to harp on a constant theme. Let's run with the idea that I'm a “relative sociopath.” This does not mean I don't care about people. This does not mean I can't experience emotion. This does not mean I am indifferent to your circumstances.

I need to just explain what I did tonight that makes me, sort of, fuck everything up. Tonight I made people like me. I was endearing. I was “smart.” I made the young gentlemen around me feel as if what I said could give them a reason to get off their depression medication and believe in something again.

I know what you hope for. I know how to talk to the disenfranchised well-wishing person who thinks the world can change. I don't know how much I believe in what I'm saying and what I”m doing for their belief in what I'm saying.

In all seriousness, it's really hard to explain where I'm coming from.

I do things. And really, that's how they register.

I don't mean to be a liar or anything when I say that I like you. I don't mean to feel like what we talk about almost certainly becomes cliché and superficial. But I'm wrong.

I will never escape my “distance” from how I relate to people. Whether it manifests as awkward, cold, or capitulating, I can't stop watching. I want “real” feelings and connections. I want to believe in something “more.” But I can't.

I'd say this makes me sad, but it would be another lie. Please understand that you are of a particular sort in remaining my friend.  

[406] Cry Baby

I think I'm over responsibility. That sounds weird and very incomplete. But when I reflect on how being or feeling responsible for things affects my disposition and circumstances, I'm struggling to figure out why I ever thought it was a good thing.

Certainly my environment didn't teach it to me. I could point to ten situations at random and depict a scapegoat parade. I see people feel guilty and sorry for themselves, sure. Everyone's aware of how hard they tried or values their contribution. It's not that they're aggressive, you made me defend myself! It's not their oversight, I trusted you to get it right! They can't recognize a chance to help, it's not even my job!

I get played like a fool. And if it walks and quacks like a fool...

I was the 16 year old who was all gung-ho about entrepreneurship who was still sold on a pyramid scheme by a fellow Target employee. Not that I'd heard of pyramid schemes at this point, but “someone like me” should still have avoided blowing that $50 on signing up, no?

When I was running the party house, I've already complained about being responsible for “everything" there, in that if it's broken I'm likely paying for it, if you forgot to lock your door, it's my fault for not locking your door, or if you smoke out my kitchen and leave a bong pineapple massacre on the counter, of course I'll be in shortly to pick it up.

You're definitely on your own in business. Good luck figuring out legalese in a contract finding money with your excellent credit history and collateral just out of college. Can't afford a lawyer? Fool, these laws weren't designed to protect you or keep you in business.

I stress, I'm seeking to make a point, not belabor a pity party. Asking for responsibility begets you way more than you bargain for.

The worst part is not getting fucked. I already expect all the stupid shit to be stupid shit regardless of whether or not I'm the one engaging with it. The worst part is when other people believe in you and help you. Because now you're letting them down. Now you look like a persistent crazy person who's playing on sympathies or has just managed to become a really good bullshitter. And I am a really good bullshitter. Do I expect the people who help me to make the distinction?

Yeah, signing up for a pyramid scheme is stupid unless you explicitly seek to exploit the naivety and inexperience that got me. But you know who took the catalog to work with him to help me start hocking some energy drink? My dad.

Sure, running a business is expensive and a pain in the ass and you'll get fucked for years before you get lucky and fuck with something that breaks through. You know what makes it less hard? When someone dips into their savings to help you, like my dad did.

He helped me stock the party house with the furniture and everything we'd need to get by. It's been friends who helped me put together the kiosk, clean up after fuck head stoners, or make 15 garbage runs when all the shit left in the house was placed at “my” feet.

I don't feel like I matter to anything anymore. I'm not saying there aren't people who don't care about me or who I can't rely on. I've just been reduced to “shining” at house parties or stumbling into one distraction or fuck up that rarely makes for a noble or interesting story.

I haven't been able to live up to the examples set by my dad and grandma. I've never had their patience, their genuine concern, their “faith.” And because it feels like they're the kind of people who would take care of the whole world, I got infected with that idea and have done what with it?

[405] Deliver Me

History can be a little too illuminating. 

Perhaps the utility of “remaining in the present” allows you the fresh naivety to remain energetic and motivated to pursue the future. Once you learn how your context has been created, you’re faced with a decision. Either you can readdress who you are, what your goals were, and to what degree this information will inform your decisions, or you can ignore it can carry on with your day. This is one of my constant well-worn “battles.”

You can’t blame the idea. For any school of thought, playing on a kind of feigned humility can allow you to introduce a new idea with a trivial amount of scrutiny. Maybe you’re in a field that no one around you knows about. Maybe you’ve been proven right about something in the past and have already greased accepting wheels. But often in the abstract and ever-more-room for ambiguity of ideas, for the longest time you may never conceive of it as good or bad.

This is how you easily and quickly control ignorance. Take any hard line ideological thinking, impose it in an area that has no idea what you’re talking about, and analogize what you’re selling to all forms of righteousness and prosperity. Inevitably, you’ll sow seeds of doubt against any system currently in place. You can polish your authority with Institutions who not only garner donations, but develop a lore and reputation. You can make deep pocketed friends who would pay you to keep saying what you’re saying even if you didn’t believe it fundamentally.

When I learn what my country has done around the world, I just feel stuck. The same ignorance that we played, and continue to play on, we’re somehow blind to the irony as a population. It’s not just a short memory, it’s a non-existing one. The things that I learn at 26 should have been cannon in any history class I took. They should have been drilled into me, perhaps even as they were happening, so I could really know the implications of laissez-faire beyond the point it would earn me on a definitions list. I should know about leaders who created socialist dreamscapes where economies grew and people were provided for. It’s beyond words to think a sounding chamber on Fox could pollute a word like “socialism” and an exceedingly large portion of the population would follow.

Do I want to end up on a kill list? Do I want to be detained and stripped of my rights because of on-the-spot made up rules? I already recognize what we have in place as servitude to multi-national corporations. I already call my leaders terrorists and war criminals. I consider the bars of my cage made from the softest velvet. Why does it often feel like forgetting what I know through some blow to the head feel more realistic and rewarding than fighting?

My spirit is broken. I have all the time in the world. Resources people couldn’t even dream of a few years ago. Even with the world as shitty as I could describe it I’m fed, typing this on an extraneous computer, and plan to sleep through most of the day tomorrow. I lose my will when I think about what’s happened to other people; when they’ve been tortured, when they’ve been slaughtered en masse, when they’re written off as collateral damage in our pursuit of profit and terror. These are horrible things in and of themselves. Now grasp that it’s national policy! Now watch how it’s evolved for 30 years.

The “good guys” aren’t winning. Every successful model I see seems to be rooted in something terrible first or is on such a small scale that the rest of world isn’t going to bother to listen. It’s little leaps in technology here and there, a win for food or human rights there, a spattering of conflict resolution that at least stifled bombs for another year or so. It feels like there’s an underlying failure that is perpetually winning. A human characteristic or habit that refuses to let sense and accountability in. It’s certainly some amalgam of greed, fear, and ignorance I’m sure.

But those aren’t deep enough. It’s deliberately advocating for the free-market for 70 years after you’ve watched it implode entire countries, like Milton Friedman. It’s speaking proudly of overthrowing democratically elected governments like ex CIA from the 60’s and 70’s. It’s pompously asking me for proof of climate change while you chant “build it” and “drill baby drill.” It’s not just ignorance. It’s pride.

It’s just an idea, after all, to be proud of yourself. How do you manage to do anything if you don’t take pride in your work? Am I not proud of my vitriol for the dumb and destructive? Is my high horse well groomed and polished so I can attract my own acolytes and we can start our own NEW SCHOOL and show these backwater killers who’s boss?

But I don’t feel it. I’m not proud to be human. I’m not happy to discuss most things with most people. I’m disgusted and sad. And not in a needing Tony Robbins to tell me to believe in myself kind of way. It’s like I don’t deserve the kingdom I already have. Why do I get to be healthy when my country pretends it’s okay “for the market to decide” who lives and dies? Why do I get to lament my “I’m cutting out sugar” diet when slaves are eating bread crumbs and gruel-adjacent foods? Why do I get to feel hopeless when I’ve never wanted to jump off of an Iphone factory roof?

I’m mostly disgusted that people don’t express ideas like this every day. I’ve said for years, when you can’t do anything, you can talk. And we don’t. We don’t hold ourselves accountable. It’s an uncomfortable silence if someone says something “too real.” If I have 9 hours to power through a book every day that you can’t find in a month’s worth of a 9-5, you can still talk on your lunch breaks. You can still pause and reflect. You can share the news article that made you sad because it’s a sadness that needs to be felt. It’s a guilt that needs to be imposed.

I think one of the stupidest things I’ve ever been told is that we’re not supposed to look out for each other. It came from reddit. This person was emphatic that as long as they carried on well-enough that it wasn’t their responsibility nor concern all the terrible shit that goes on around them. As if consequences don’t carry. As if they’re not likely a living embodiment of a kind of victim. Because to me, to be that kind of person is to have felt the kind of abuse that has crushed my spirit. Only now talking has become a fate worse than writing off the death of your fellow man.

[404] Succeedingly Average

I want to reflect on the idea of “average.”

As you take in increasing amounts of information, the feeling that it is or isn’t living up to a level of expectation grows ever more nagging. All of a sudden, an “interesting” or “cool enough” example you came across becomes the gold standard. After your attention and internal monologue has been beaten to death by the superficial, verbose, or flat out pathetic, taking on a pretentious air is something of a defense mechanism.

I’ve been reading blogs. I posted that I would evaluate and give feedback from anyone who chose to share their site. You will find no swifter lesson in the “law of average” than in doing this exercise. My problem has less to do with people sucking or picking exceedingly boring, convoluted, or random topics to squeeze into their poorly formatted and .gif laden blog, but that I doubt they plan to get better and wonder if they recognize what my criticisms are speaking to.

Take the idea of a cliché. Clichés are bred from overuse and experience. So if I call your “women are equal too!” post a cliché, are you as familiar with every avenue that uses the exact same words to fight the exact same fight? I must doubt it.

What’s not cliché is to go into your own mind and experience. You know, that often “off limits” realm where what you really thought is too embarrassing or taboo for random fucks on the internet. It’s also the only interesting thing you have to offer. You’re not “quirky,” “nerdy,” or “the right kind of asshole” enough to stick out with those descriptions alone. And your sarcastic skater/gay/spouse/boss isn’t going to tickle me the same shade of pink they do you.

This also feels like the symptom of the massive “in general fuck this shit” problem I have with life. I think what you see is this kind of superficial average across all levels. It’s why a few anecdotes of amazing doctors will never erase a general distrust and fear of hospitals. It’s the same reasons teachers will be defaulted to “bitchy authoritarians” instead of lauded arbiters of humanity’s future. It’s the shock you feel when someone picks up a phone on a customer service line and pretends “empathy” was ever a word we bothered inventing.

I think it speaks to why I like to make a show of being “bad.” I think the consequences of being an average asshole are undersold. I think the concessions we make to speak politely and the hesitation we feel to react as strongly as needed to real problems will be a huge influence as to why we don’t last.

Take a “big picture” kind of analogy. The rule is entropy. Things will break much easier than they can be built. If you’re average, you’re literally only getting worse with each passing moment. Take a moment to be extra skeptical of the person who’s terribly comfortable with their lot in life. At all levels, you can quickly become dramatically worse.

More to the point though, think about what you’re building. You’ve only got so much energy and how it gets used will inform you for the rest of your life. If you create and are applauded for your mediocrity, that’s the story that gets told. That’s the story you’ll internalize and the highest you’ll be able to aspire to. I try to be loud about when I’m sucking because I don’t want you to think I believe it’s okay. I don’t want you to think I’m not aware of the standard I hold myself to. I take just enough pride in my perpetual headache about what it is I want, and I find nothing more exciting than when I recognize an opportunity to engage with or do exactly what meets that standard.