I'm very “blah” and it's in between
other “blahs” so I'm just doing that stroll through the blah of
my existence and thoughts to hopefully discover something a little
bit more than “blah.” I doubt it will be much worth reading.
I was once told that I was a self-actualized person. This was supposed to distinguish me from the people who harbor every downtrodden excuse to explain away their existence and lack of achievement. One of my go-to cliches is to say, if only eventually, I tend to get everything I've ever really wanted. I don't think this plays too closely to some idea of beging, borrowing, and stealing to do so, but I've been willing to to do 2 of those when desperation or boredom took hold.
Is it such a good thing to get everything you want? It's certainly not that I've never been denied. It seems like a question with at least 2 layers though. Say you want to “survive” so you'll figure out how to manage a paycheck and feed yourself. In that same spirit, say you're willing to work endless hours at any job to save and live cheap so you can afford some toy or vacation. It's the noble sacrificial level. Then there's the psychopathic sense. So cunning and premeditated, you'll negate all consequences in service to your acquisition. You leave people crippled and retain no excessive memory of them.
Try as I might, I still never manage to convince myself of “pure” socio or psychopathy. In fact, I pretty-well hate the words as I find them clunky, all-encompassing, and dismissive of the ever-evolving emotional capacity (or lack thereof) that works out in real-time how to account of personal, psychological, and social reasons for how to respond. What used to be “survival” looks “psychopathic” in a modern civilized society. Shutting off an emotional response to maintain sanity will register as plainly “sociopathic” as anything you couple with some harm it has done you.
In any event, I don't take my lack of “emotional cues” as necessarily insidious or problematic. I think about this when I hear someone's, generally bat shit, interpretation of my being. We all retain the capacity to be unrelenting monsters. It's simple decisions. In the name of decency, we choose what superficial lines we'd like to walk to maintain a particular aura. If yours wants to be a little whiter or shinier than mine, it doesn't grant you special powers nor a brilliant perspective that makes you correct in attempting to assess me. I can barely assess me, but I'm probably not a simple-minded asshole who just loves to cuss real loud.
“Self-actualizing,” if I am indeed such a person, seems to be always in process. I wanted land, so I acquired it. Every study I did was in service to the longer goal and game. I don't want to do studies. I don't want a normal job. I don't even necessarily want to spend most of my time in cousin-fuck Indiana regardless of the comforts and freedoms it will afford me. I always preface it with “unfortunately,” but my goal still resolves to a communal identity. One way or another I'll need to figure out how to keep myself surround by friends. It remains a very selfish goal for those who think I'm being sentimental.
I was once told that I was a self-actualized person. This was supposed to distinguish me from the people who harbor every downtrodden excuse to explain away their existence and lack of achievement. One of my go-to cliches is to say, if only eventually, I tend to get everything I've ever really wanted. I don't think this plays too closely to some idea of beging, borrowing, and stealing to do so, but I've been willing to to do 2 of those when desperation or boredom took hold.
Is it such a good thing to get everything you want? It's certainly not that I've never been denied. It seems like a question with at least 2 layers though. Say you want to “survive” so you'll figure out how to manage a paycheck and feed yourself. In that same spirit, say you're willing to work endless hours at any job to save and live cheap so you can afford some toy or vacation. It's the noble sacrificial level. Then there's the psychopathic sense. So cunning and premeditated, you'll negate all consequences in service to your acquisition. You leave people crippled and retain no excessive memory of them.
Try as I might, I still never manage to convince myself of “pure” socio or psychopathy. In fact, I pretty-well hate the words as I find them clunky, all-encompassing, and dismissive of the ever-evolving emotional capacity (or lack thereof) that works out in real-time how to account of personal, psychological, and social reasons for how to respond. What used to be “survival” looks “psychopathic” in a modern civilized society. Shutting off an emotional response to maintain sanity will register as plainly “sociopathic” as anything you couple with some harm it has done you.
In any event, I don't take my lack of “emotional cues” as necessarily insidious or problematic. I think about this when I hear someone's, generally bat shit, interpretation of my being. We all retain the capacity to be unrelenting monsters. It's simple decisions. In the name of decency, we choose what superficial lines we'd like to walk to maintain a particular aura. If yours wants to be a little whiter or shinier than mine, it doesn't grant you special powers nor a brilliant perspective that makes you correct in attempting to assess me. I can barely assess me, but I'm probably not a simple-minded asshole who just loves to cuss real loud.
“Self-actualizing,” if I am indeed such a person, seems to be always in process. I wanted land, so I acquired it. Every study I did was in service to the longer goal and game. I don't want to do studies. I don't want a normal job. I don't even necessarily want to spend most of my time in cousin-fuck Indiana regardless of the comforts and freedoms it will afford me. I always preface it with “unfortunately,” but my goal still resolves to a communal identity. One way or another I'll need to figure out how to keep myself surround by friends. It remains a very selfish goal for those who think I'm being sentimental.
It
seems a very loud idea to me that people like to be told what to do.
They like it especially when what they're told to do doesn't
interfere with what they think they want to be doing. You won't get
the stone-cold sober person to drink who's still reeling from the
emotional trauma of their alcoholic parent. You will get the shy
person absolutely obliterated and making out with the cute person
they saw across the room. I apply this metric to more important
things. It's very Field of Dreams; if I build it, they will come. If
I create an oasis in cousin-fuck Indiana even I want to live in, your
excuses will diminish. If I reduce my bills to a few hundred dollars
a year while I dick around experimenting with business ideas, the
door will remain open for you to work along side me.
I feel I have to consider these things in a more concrete fashion now that I've found this land. I'm a restless person. I have to even accomplish stupid things like watching movies and TV shows because cheering for hours over the Cubs I find mind-numbingly boring. But soon, I'll be digging and building. I've already watched a movie on laying concrete foundations and have started compiling numbers for farmers who have equipment I've never heard of that helps them maintain that much space. By July I hope to be out of here, alternate work days with study stays until I can discover something to profit from that doesn't rely on confinement.
What if this time next year I not only have a solidly lived in place, a budding green real estate venture, a workshop, a brewery, and enviable vertical hydroponic garden/greenhouse? What if I start sowing the seeds for several potential income streams? I imagine my days will still look a lot like they do now, I'll just be dicking around with those things with a movie in the background. Less we forget about the map. How long do you think it really takes to compile the information I'm after? Even Adam Ruins Everything spoke to how hard it is to learn anything about local politics just by simply going to Google. I'd put money on the idea someone is out there creating a quasi-parallel system as to the one I want. It speaks to something I read about once in undermining the “revolutionary idea” idea. Things arise around the same times in different spots and then forces take over that turns one popular and kills the rest.
Switching gears a bit. I feel myself growing resolved to superficiality. I haven't been moved to really contact or talk to anyone. Each time I start reflecting on parts of my life I considered pretty good or what I'd want, I'm reminded they were built on lies. I figure it's my responsibility to keep carrying the torch for meager and over-burdened truth, even if it's the one that keeps putting distance between me and you. I'm not particularly convinced you much care either way.
Part of me has flirted hard enough with the idea of just sitting pretty. I don't have to sign myself up for the work it'll take to develop the land. I could just forfeit the earnest-money and barely feel a pinch. I could not just massively overpay to see Green Day, but do so in Italy. I could buy a new car or develop a sense of style. There's just that nagging fact that those things aren't the goal. I'd have them already if it was, as that shit is easy. It's just stuff. Tickets and bills. I've spent the last couple years washing myself of any former go-getter creative glory so I could cope with study life and basement dwelling. I need to learn, create, and build. I need to force a ridiculous heart-racing smile to my face as people cock their head and think, “Wait, what are you doing?” I'm way more obnoxious and motivated than anything I've done in recent memory can attest to. I miss me.
Just the idea that so much of it is still predicated on staying healthy and getting into well-timed studies is annoying. That's my paycheck to paycheck. My life still isn't belayed by collective ingenuity and resources, it's capitulating to for-profit medicine motives. I'm still a cog, one way or another. The one upside is, even if I never get into another study, now, worst case scenario in life, I have to learn how to camp, because even a McJob would still afford me my time, which is always in need of protecting.
Guess we'll just have to see how it all goes. I'll know what it feels like when the real goal has been achieved. It's this weird about-to-break-ground feeling that leaves me feeling “hopeful,” but I'm too old not to feel sober about the process. And even when I find the people to start playing along, they're going to find a way to fuck it all up anyway lol. Oh well.
I feel I have to consider these things in a more concrete fashion now that I've found this land. I'm a restless person. I have to even accomplish stupid things like watching movies and TV shows because cheering for hours over the Cubs I find mind-numbingly boring. But soon, I'll be digging and building. I've already watched a movie on laying concrete foundations and have started compiling numbers for farmers who have equipment I've never heard of that helps them maintain that much space. By July I hope to be out of here, alternate work days with study stays until I can discover something to profit from that doesn't rely on confinement.
What if this time next year I not only have a solidly lived in place, a budding green real estate venture, a workshop, a brewery, and enviable vertical hydroponic garden/greenhouse? What if I start sowing the seeds for several potential income streams? I imagine my days will still look a lot like they do now, I'll just be dicking around with those things with a movie in the background. Less we forget about the map. How long do you think it really takes to compile the information I'm after? Even Adam Ruins Everything spoke to how hard it is to learn anything about local politics just by simply going to Google. I'd put money on the idea someone is out there creating a quasi-parallel system as to the one I want. It speaks to something I read about once in undermining the “revolutionary idea” idea. Things arise around the same times in different spots and then forces take over that turns one popular and kills the rest.
Switching gears a bit. I feel myself growing resolved to superficiality. I haven't been moved to really contact or talk to anyone. Each time I start reflecting on parts of my life I considered pretty good or what I'd want, I'm reminded they were built on lies. I figure it's my responsibility to keep carrying the torch for meager and over-burdened truth, even if it's the one that keeps putting distance between me and you. I'm not particularly convinced you much care either way.
Part of me has flirted hard enough with the idea of just sitting pretty. I don't have to sign myself up for the work it'll take to develop the land. I could just forfeit the earnest-money and barely feel a pinch. I could not just massively overpay to see Green Day, but do so in Italy. I could buy a new car or develop a sense of style. There's just that nagging fact that those things aren't the goal. I'd have them already if it was, as that shit is easy. It's just stuff. Tickets and bills. I've spent the last couple years washing myself of any former go-getter creative glory so I could cope with study life and basement dwelling. I need to learn, create, and build. I need to force a ridiculous heart-racing smile to my face as people cock their head and think, “Wait, what are you doing?” I'm way more obnoxious and motivated than anything I've done in recent memory can attest to. I miss me.
Just the idea that so much of it is still predicated on staying healthy and getting into well-timed studies is annoying. That's my paycheck to paycheck. My life still isn't belayed by collective ingenuity and resources, it's capitulating to for-profit medicine motives. I'm still a cog, one way or another. The one upside is, even if I never get into another study, now, worst case scenario in life, I have to learn how to camp, because even a McJob would still afford me my time, which is always in need of protecting.
Guess we'll just have to see how it all goes. I'll know what it feels like when the real goal has been achieved. It's this weird about-to-break-ground feeling that leaves me feeling “hopeful,” but I'm too old not to feel sober about the process. And even when I find the people to start playing along, they're going to find a way to fuck it all up anyway lol. Oh well.
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