Starting another chapter

19 02 2014

My life in the, say, past four years is not what I expected it to be. Rather than launching myself into a well-paying career by my mid-twenties, I am a temp living in DC, chasing a dream inspired by “Yes We Can” rhetoric from the 2008 campaign and deflated by a remarkably flat employment market. So, here I am, temping in DC, while trying to get my foot in the door nearly a year and a half after moving to the District of Columbia.

I’m working on my project, trying to make rent and pocket change (savings? Hah.), when I get a Facebook notification from Gust, posting a blog post I wrote here almost four years ago. It was a review of Glee, right when the second season was about to start (or the first season was ending– who knows). A major thesis of that post was the idea that Glee would not last past three seasons. That was clearly false. But I was able to see that the quality of the show was going to deteriorate fast, and from what I surmise, I guess I was right about that.

Taking a quick moment to read a little blast from the past reminding me that I actually write pretty well, and indeed enjoy it. I remember loving writing as a teenager, and here I am, a 26 year old who essentially does it for a living. But it’s not necessarily fun. It’s work. Which is fine. But I think I deserve to make it fun again.

Last week, at a “House of Cards” viewing party (s0 DC. So This Town), I was having a discussion with an acquaintance about what I used to write about. I didn’t know how to respond. I’m pretty certain I said “stuff.” I guess it’s this though. I like consuming media, and describing how I view it. How I feel about. What I think about it. I like taking about current events, what’s going on in the world, in the country, in the community, and reflecting on how it fits into our past, present and future. I like being sarcastic, genuine, warm.

So with that said, in February 2014, I guess I’ll make another go at it. I had a LiveJournal in from 2001 that was updated with some frequency until 2008 (I’m not linking that). I had a high school sanctioned soapbox my junior and senior years. And now I have Facebook and Twitter. But I want to do some long-form creative writing again, and I guess I’ll do it here.

Sorry Gust for COMBOBREAKING your Pictures of the Day from 2012. I’m reviving Range Free.

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I’m not a cynic, I just act a lot.

19 01 2012

Big Puns aside..

My admission: I’m an Existentialist.

My actions dictate my persona and the path I trek in life. These actions are of my own accord, regardless of how they form – my reaction to an ‘outside’ force is still a property and action of “me”. Thus, I find myself in situations because of my own choices.

Opposite to this thinking, I am incredibly fearful of my impact on the world and others, although each other being shares the same burden: free will. I seek to minimize my effect on those beings. This creates a certain “drift” from interaction: I choose to minimize the effects of my own free will and yearn to live as “invasive” as possible.

On the subject of actions: those enacted greatly reflect myself, regardless of my confidence in my choice. A corollary to this point is that other being’s actions reflect themselves as well. This means whether planned for years, months, or nanoseconds, action is a calculated and premeditated phenomenon.

Does this mean an action’s effect is planned? Yes and no. The outcome of action based on free will is an extension of choice – the “external” effect is not completely intended. The reaction to that action is simply a response for me (similar to a personal, individual action to a question I ask internally of myself) Therefore, another’s choice affects me, free will allows me to respond accordingly, AND only as much as my response will allow.

I find a major personal flaw within myself: I lack the emotional balance and mental stability to fully accept and enact the above philosophy. I am continually told internally (and arguably from social cues) that other being’s actions are intentionally designed to affect others more so than the one acting in the first place. [One could say this is narcissism but after all everyone is a narcissistic. We simply wouldn’t sustain life if we weren’t to some degree. ] These actions seem more barbed and targeted, as if planned for the interpreted effect, as opposed to a simple “ripple effect” radiating towards others.

* * *

A major side effect of this thinking/conflict is guilt and sorrow over one’s own failures, since one’s current situations are a product of earlier (personal)  actions. Each success and failure is a creation of an earlier action or actions. Luck, happenstance, and ‘cosmic probability’ are mere human explanations or, rather, excuses for justifying one’s situations.

This all means my misery (and joy) is determined and confirmation of my actions. Due to aforementioned mental “hangups” this concept seems foreign to me half of the time. (I could argue that it’s easiest for me to believe that I am always in the “right” and negative effects caused by other’s actions are never or rarely effects of my own actions.)

I need to try and comprehend that my actions, and mine alone, are what create internal (and to a lesser extent, external) value.





4. Dreamt of the end

25 07 2011

Write a poem based upon a recent dream.

i dreamt our world was ending

buildings crashing all around

we could not be together

so we carved out a plan

watch one last sunset

as the planet rolls in it’s grave

imagine being side by side

hand in hand

i ran through city

through forest

i found our clearing

and felt to the ground

the sun collapsing

into the distance

as i struggled to reach

my fingers outlining

a small trinket

seemingly dropped from the heavens

iknew you were with me

you always were

dreamt on 7/25/11


Here’s an abridged version what I wrote down, once I woke up:

“You were on the other side of earth when the world was ending. You set a rocket to rocket to gps me to kill us together. It turns out everything is okay. I can’t stop you but you slow down. And I check on you. You’re okay. I help you out. You tell me “I have something” and give me a small trinket. I can’t make out what it is, my hands shaking. You clasp your hands around mine.”





3. My Motto

31 05 2011

I’ve never had much of a motto, at least growing up and through things that threatened my progress into who I am today. I was often too caught up in the details of pain and pleasure to really think deeply about the big picture – sure, I’ve always had those fantasies of what I want to do with my life, who I want to become but I’ve never really evaluated how to get there.

Oddly enough, I didn’t find a motto to put stock into until I ventured into a theater to see a production of Avenue Q – yes, I’ll admit the strange derivation of my message. It was quite simple and something I’ve had issues learning, even fathoming:

“Everything is only for now. Everything is temporary.”

Sadness. Joy. Pain. Love. Anger. Prosperity. Life. They are all relative variables of our larger picture.

You may lose someone in your life, but you can’t dwell on it – that isn’t what they would’ve wanted for you and it does nothing to bring them back.

Joy, love, prosperity, and life are things to savor because you don’t know when you’ll lose them.

I’ve found this phrase fuel me in multiple facets. I’ve started running (and working out some); what helps push me along is the convince myself the pain and exhaustion is temporary and, overall, the end will justify the means. At work, rather than getting frustrated over a coworker’s nonsense or a project that appears to carry the weight of the world, I can step back and confirm within myself that once I accept it’s occurring, the sooner it’ll be over. With living arrangements, I find myself frustrated that I’m not with the person I’ve committed myself to for the last seven years – though it’s mainly on my shoulders – but it’s just a temporary hang up.

One could argue it’s just living in the moment, but I find it helps me mentally reach the next step in my road.

So I always try to remember: “This is only temporary and the sunrise is just over that hill.”





2. Reflect on the Past

18 05 2011

Last April I did what I always do, I watched the seasons changed and enjoyed how the world ebbed and flowed around me – I was a passive observer at the moment, due to lack of employment and general depression towards… everything.

Nonetheless, I searched my home for interesting things to photograph and came about a few fallen buds from our Bleeding Heart.

They had only recently fallen off – I knew by their still vivid color, which contrasted amazingly well against the grays of the soil beneath the plant.

I’ve found I relate a lot of things I see and experience to anxiety and depression, it makes sense because both are often wide expanses for me, eating whole days of my life, which subsequently “pop” out in my eyes/mind.

Seeing these bright flecks against nothingness made me feel small, as if I were similarly, a flower dying from my bland and seemingly endless surroundings. It was almost too much for me to deal with. [Honestly, if you’ve ever suffered from depression, you’d know how random things can just really destroy you.]

I felt myself getting angry, mainly at the situation which was connecting things in my mind. I wanted to feel “normal,” it’s something I’ve always been chasing – I should’ve been fairly okay in my situation: I graduated college, I was healthy, a home, family, friends, and a loving partner. It’s in these moments that I find things go two ways: either you continue to wallow in the annoyance and pain, or, try to piece things together and form a solution/positive momentum (of sorts) towards your goal(s).

It’s strange, outside of these moments, to think of how my mental state could shift so quickly – it’s still tough to even believe it’s possible.

I grabbed one of the buds and held it in my hands, feeling like I was holding much more than a dying flower and rolled it between my fingers. As if I were trying to squeeze life back into the poor bud.

It reminded me that as broken as I felt, there were those in my life willing to hold me together – especially one person in particular.

I felt oddly better after convincing myself of that truth.