It's been too long since the last blog.
I just wanted to discuss the irrational fear of what could be considered the impending loss of my creativity.
I know it sounds silly to think that I may begin writing terrible music, but there is a small voice in the back of my head that says, "If you don't get the good songs launched to super-stardom now, you're talent is only going downhill from here."
It's like knowing you have reached the prime of your life and there is nothing left but mediocrity. I know I haven't hit that point yet. And in all actuality, that point probably doesn't exist. But I do fear the "What if?"
I do notice that some of the passion has dwindled over the years. Things don't feel the same. I do miss the sensation of songwriting in its early years. I guess the trade-off comes with the idea that I don't miss those songs I wrote years ago. The knowledge grows and the passion dwindles. I write better songs, but I need some new stimulus.
I guess that's where releasing albums and playing big shows comes in. I'm trying my very best to write as many songs as I can (hopefully good songs) to compile an LP to put out. And I want to make it huge! I want to sell hundreds of copies. I want to plan a CD release show! I want to have it reviewed by critics!
I guess I want to play rockstar even though I'm really just masquerading.
Conversely, I stand by the principle that you should dress for the job you want and not the job you have.
So I guess that if I act according to the notion that I have "made it," then maybe I will actually make it some day soon.
Word Count: 305
Friday, December 31, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The Guilt and the Why
Why do I always feel guilty for wrongdoings that lie beyond my control?
Why do I feel that I must take responsibility for the inevitible?
Why do I feel as though I owe the condemned my help when, in all actuality, they just leech the resources they take for granted and disparage the world around them?
I wish I could answer these questions. I wish I could practice the method of "stop thought" every time I feel that feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me to reach out and do something. I wish I could see through the guise of a kind smile and the facade of superficial friendship.
Why do I offer my assistance to those who would not reciprocate?
Why would I lie in the middle of traffic to spare the undeserving?
Why do I forgive those who would, in an instant, judge me so righteously?
I want to depend on others, but feel that when I lean on a friend they fall through. I want to believe that everyone deserves a second chance, but I know they do not. I wish we could all just coexist and let the insignificance of life slide off of our backs and shoulders and not condemn the supposed perpetrators to the unnecessary ridicule.
Standing up for the right thing becomes so difficult when someone is always ready to tell you how and why you are wrong.
Aspiring to something greater becomes too difficult when a feeling of shame eclipses every progressive action taken.
Why does defending your beliefs become the hardest thing to do when you feel-- No, when you know that you have done nothing wrong?
We are all narcissists. We all gauge the success our own lives in a mirror while scoffing at others through a lens. We are so quick to judge, yet we are so reluctant to enhance ourselves our progress as compassionate human beings. At some point, we have given up on our own personal journeys and have decided to block the road to success for others, too.
Maybe my guilt lies in the fact that I know my desire to help others should characterize me in a positive way, but I know I can't act on those feelings because the prospect of my own personal gain could be compromised if I do so.
Maybe I feel guilty because my personal gain means just as much to me as the next person's self-achievements mean to them while wishing that things could be different.
No one likes to blow the whistle.
And no one likes a whistle-blower.
We all depend on someone or several someones. And we all adhere to the notion that their good graces dictate whether we succeed or fail.
Is the burden of my guilt through this journey worth the prize that may await me at the end?
Let's hope so.
Word Count: 480
Why do I feel that I must take responsibility for the inevitible?
Why do I feel as though I owe the condemned my help when, in all actuality, they just leech the resources they take for granted and disparage the world around them?
I wish I could answer these questions. I wish I could practice the method of "stop thought" every time I feel that feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me to reach out and do something. I wish I could see through the guise of a kind smile and the facade of superficial friendship.
Why do I offer my assistance to those who would not reciprocate?
Why would I lie in the middle of traffic to spare the undeserving?
Why do I forgive those who would, in an instant, judge me so righteously?
I want to depend on others, but feel that when I lean on a friend they fall through. I want to believe that everyone deserves a second chance, but I know they do not. I wish we could all just coexist and let the insignificance of life slide off of our backs and shoulders and not condemn the supposed perpetrators to the unnecessary ridicule.
Standing up for the right thing becomes so difficult when someone is always ready to tell you how and why you are wrong.
Aspiring to something greater becomes too difficult when a feeling of shame eclipses every progressive action taken.
Why does defending your beliefs become the hardest thing to do when you feel-- No, when you know that you have done nothing wrong?
We are all narcissists. We all gauge the success our own lives in a mirror while scoffing at others through a lens. We are so quick to judge, yet we are so reluctant to enhance ourselves our progress as compassionate human beings. At some point, we have given up on our own personal journeys and have decided to block the road to success for others, too.
Maybe my guilt lies in the fact that I know my desire to help others should characterize me in a positive way, but I know I can't act on those feelings because the prospect of my own personal gain could be compromised if I do so.
Maybe I feel guilty because my personal gain means just as much to me as the next person's self-achievements mean to them while wishing that things could be different.
No one likes to blow the whistle.
And no one likes a whistle-blower.
We all depend on someone or several someones. And we all adhere to the notion that their good graces dictate whether we succeed or fail.
Is the burden of my guilt through this journey worth the prize that may await me at the end?
Let's hope so.
Word Count: 480
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Canus Lupus Familiaris
I can hardly describe the feeling of bliss that accompanies play-time with a dog.
Smart dogs, dumb dogs, disobedient dogs, loyal dogs, and every other kind of dog seem to bring joy wherever they go. Well, maybe not vicious & malicious dogs... But let's not think about them.
Firstly, though, let's focus on the aesthetics of a dog. Eugenics has bred dogs into all shapes, sizes, and colors. Dogs exists for all tastes and preferences. Even the ugly ones are kind of cute. But the eyes are what really manipulate one's demeanor. I can't look down into a set of classic puppy dog eyes and dismiss the feeling of true compassion; perhaps they try to convey a real connection.
Perhaps, as simple creatures, they want to involve themselves in everything you do. Those big, gelatinous eyes fixate themselves on their humans and the golden possibility of a dropped article of food. Maybe they feel true concern. Maybe they are opportunists.
When a dog whines, how can you not feel sympathy? How can one bury compassion for man's best friend or suppress the urge to alleviate the ailments that plague them at that particular instance? These animals are equipped with the most dangerous weapon of all: The ability to play on your emotions.
Of course, what smells worse than a wet dog? Wat is more annoying than a dog tracking mud into the house? And, above all, how do we, as masters, so easily forgive them? The easy answer is that they, once again as basic animals, lack the understanding necessary to correct the behavior that seems normal to them. But the truth is that we want to forgive them, not for their ignorance, but because they forgive us, too, when we fail to meet expectations.
When we forget to fill the food & water bowls, do they hold it against us? When we accidentally back up and take a bad step, does the pain sink deeper than firing synapses? When we leave them alone, do they, in turn, desert us?
When we commit acts unforgivable in the eyes of our fellow man, does a dog judge us?
They say a true friends stands by you even when you're wrong. If that's how we, as humans, measure a true friends, then there is no friend greater than the dog. The dog does not care if you're right or wrong. The dog does not care whether or not you tried to spare the feelings of the one whose spirit you have crushed. The dog does not need to know why you weep. The dog is always there for you through thick and thin.
The dog does not wait its turn to speak. The dog does not exist in a narcissistic vacuum. The dog only wants love. Sure, the dog wants to be fed and walked and played with, but these are all things that we as children have once looked to our parents for. Did we not also characterize these needs as love? Did we not feel the warm aura of an unbreakable bond?
And, most importantly, the dog is loyal above all other creatures. The dog does not care what crowd you hang around with. The dog does not take offense to unkind words. The dog knows that, when scolded, the anger and disappointment are only temporary and that, via the judgment of its protector, this behavior must be for its own good.
The dog has no shame. And, more importantly, the dog is never ashamed of you. In the midst of a judgmental society, it's easy to "be yourself" around a dog; the dog which does not think your stupid or evil or ill equipped. In an egocentric society, the dog legitimately cares about your feelings.
And, in the end, no one ever looks back on a good dog and dwells on its bad habits or its rude behavior or its simplistic tendencies. And if they do, it always seems to be nostalgic and never with a trace of disappointment.
I look forward to the day (which will be relatively soon) that I can have my own dog again. Unconditional love is hard to find in humans. Luckily for dog lovers, it's only a lick away.
Word Count: 704
Smart dogs, dumb dogs, disobedient dogs, loyal dogs, and every other kind of dog seem to bring joy wherever they go. Well, maybe not vicious & malicious dogs... But let's not think about them.
Firstly, though, let's focus on the aesthetics of a dog. Eugenics has bred dogs into all shapes, sizes, and colors. Dogs exists for all tastes and preferences. Even the ugly ones are kind of cute. But the eyes are what really manipulate one's demeanor. I can't look down into a set of classic puppy dog eyes and dismiss the feeling of true compassion; perhaps they try to convey a real connection.
Perhaps, as simple creatures, they want to involve themselves in everything you do. Those big, gelatinous eyes fixate themselves on their humans and the golden possibility of a dropped article of food. Maybe they feel true concern. Maybe they are opportunists.
When a dog whines, how can you not feel sympathy? How can one bury compassion for man's best friend or suppress the urge to alleviate the ailments that plague them at that particular instance? These animals are equipped with the most dangerous weapon of all: The ability to play on your emotions.
Of course, what smells worse than a wet dog? Wat is more annoying than a dog tracking mud into the house? And, above all, how do we, as masters, so easily forgive them? The easy answer is that they, once again as basic animals, lack the understanding necessary to correct the behavior that seems normal to them. But the truth is that we want to forgive them, not for their ignorance, but because they forgive us, too, when we fail to meet expectations.
When we forget to fill the food & water bowls, do they hold it against us? When we accidentally back up and take a bad step, does the pain sink deeper than firing synapses? When we leave them alone, do they, in turn, desert us?
When we commit acts unforgivable in the eyes of our fellow man, does a dog judge us?
They say a true friends stands by you even when you're wrong. If that's how we, as humans, measure a true friends, then there is no friend greater than the dog. The dog does not care if you're right or wrong. The dog does not care whether or not you tried to spare the feelings of the one whose spirit you have crushed. The dog does not need to know why you weep. The dog is always there for you through thick and thin.
The dog does not wait its turn to speak. The dog does not exist in a narcissistic vacuum. The dog only wants love. Sure, the dog wants to be fed and walked and played with, but these are all things that we as children have once looked to our parents for. Did we not also characterize these needs as love? Did we not feel the warm aura of an unbreakable bond?
And, most importantly, the dog is loyal above all other creatures. The dog does not care what crowd you hang around with. The dog does not take offense to unkind words. The dog knows that, when scolded, the anger and disappointment are only temporary and that, via the judgment of its protector, this behavior must be for its own good.
The dog has no shame. And, more importantly, the dog is never ashamed of you. In the midst of a judgmental society, it's easy to "be yourself" around a dog; the dog which does not think your stupid or evil or ill equipped. In an egocentric society, the dog legitimately cares about your feelings.
And, in the end, no one ever looks back on a good dog and dwells on its bad habits or its rude behavior or its simplistic tendencies. And if they do, it always seems to be nostalgic and never with a trace of disappointment.
I look forward to the day (which will be relatively soon) that I can have my own dog again. Unconditional love is hard to find in humans. Luckily for dog lovers, it's only a lick away.
Word Count: 704
Monday, November 8, 2010
Values
I feel as though I could have saved a lot of time if I had stronger family values instead of learning the lessons of life the hard way. But then again, I am thankful sometimes that I came to my own conclusions in my own way. I feel like I deviate from certain social norms that are so normal, in fact, that the question of one's decision never comes to light.
In a class, a friend of mine brought up that he was not an atheist but an agnostic. The professor replied that, "It takes a certain amount of arrogance to be an atheist," which led me to believe that no one really knows what an atheist truly practices (Which is, in essence, nothing). It isn't a fervent opposition toward the existence of a higher being, but rather the lack of caring. Most people characterize that as agnostic behavior, when agnosticism is really just the middle of the fence, always proclaiming that there is not enough evidence to prove or refute the existence of a deity.
I just wanted to clear that up for expository purposes.
I didn't have much religion pushed on me as a child, surprisingly, even though my mother is a devout catholic. My father, on the other hand, creates his own brand of Christianity as most non-devout Christians do. I believe it was their constant feud with each other that left little time to instill in me the values like religion that most parents try to preach to their children.
I remember a time in my childhood when I believed a god existed, but there were no facts to support him. I never had a bible to read. I never attended church. The idea of God seemed arbitrary to me. For a child whose first real book was an encyclopedia, a solid reason needed to exist in order to fuel the blind faith. And as I grew older, many emotionally traumatizing events caused me to count my blessings backward. The idea that God existed went out the window along with Santa Claus and The Easter Bunny. Those figures were placeholders in my life, but as I prematurely grew up, I knew that I couldn't rely on those things anymore.
I feel like I have a pretty good head on my shoulders now, though, without the assistance of organized religion, even though I support things that would make some pastors lose their cool. I strongly advocate LGBTQ lifestyles. I condone recreational drinking. I find no problem with premarital sex if both parties are smart about it. Most of these conclusions were not drawn from a rebellion against the status quo, but rather they were learned via personal experience and interaction with real human beings whose lives cross paths with these elements of existence on a regular basis.
If I were a man with morals and values, would I have been more masculine? Recently, I went through a period where I felt that my lack of masculinity was something to be ashamed of, but I realized that this notion was false. Though most boys are brought up to be manly men, I never felt the need to become the embodiment of machismo nature.
My hair has always been long. My frame became sleek and not wide. My voice has always been higher in pitch. I like art, music, and occasionally dressing in ladies' clothes. My testosterone count is normal. I am attracted to women. I grow an inordinate amount of body hair.
Biologically, I am a man. That is my sex. Gender-wise, I still believe I am a man even though I participate in emasculated behavior. I can't fix a car, but I can serenade a woman. I don't know much about football statistics, but I can build a computer from spare parts. I can't lift heavy weights, but I can stand in front of an auditorium full of people and convince them that my word is law.
I sometimes feel the need to be part of a greater whole, but when I reflect on all I have accomplished as well as the extent of my abilities, I am fine existing as an island. When I have children, I want to tell them that it is permissible to deviate from the expected roles placed on them by society. If they need to believe in a god, then that is the right choice for them.
I must say that religion was not the right choice for me, but I do miss the sense of a strong community. I miss thinking that every event has a purpose. I mostly miss the personal assurance that everything is going to be OK. I believe the core values of religion are important for society and should never be forgotten. Grow by demonstrating that these values have taught you something meaningful about life.
The capacity to coexist will yield a fruitful life. Live and let live. Journeys progress step by step, but one should avoid following the trail someone else has provided. How else are we, as a society, to discover new things if we don't take the road less traveled?
Word Count: 857
In a class, a friend of mine brought up that he was not an atheist but an agnostic. The professor replied that, "It takes a certain amount of arrogance to be an atheist," which led me to believe that no one really knows what an atheist truly practices (Which is, in essence, nothing). It isn't a fervent opposition toward the existence of a higher being, but rather the lack of caring. Most people characterize that as agnostic behavior, when agnosticism is really just the middle of the fence, always proclaiming that there is not enough evidence to prove or refute the existence of a deity.
I just wanted to clear that up for expository purposes.
I didn't have much religion pushed on me as a child, surprisingly, even though my mother is a devout catholic. My father, on the other hand, creates his own brand of Christianity as most non-devout Christians do. I believe it was their constant feud with each other that left little time to instill in me the values like religion that most parents try to preach to their children.
I remember a time in my childhood when I believed a god existed, but there were no facts to support him. I never had a bible to read. I never attended church. The idea of God seemed arbitrary to me. For a child whose first real book was an encyclopedia, a solid reason needed to exist in order to fuel the blind faith. And as I grew older, many emotionally traumatizing events caused me to count my blessings backward. The idea that God existed went out the window along with Santa Claus and The Easter Bunny. Those figures were placeholders in my life, but as I prematurely grew up, I knew that I couldn't rely on those things anymore.
I feel like I have a pretty good head on my shoulders now, though, without the assistance of organized religion, even though I support things that would make some pastors lose their cool. I strongly advocate LGBTQ lifestyles. I condone recreational drinking. I find no problem with premarital sex if both parties are smart about it. Most of these conclusions were not drawn from a rebellion against the status quo, but rather they were learned via personal experience and interaction with real human beings whose lives cross paths with these elements of existence on a regular basis.
If I were a man with morals and values, would I have been more masculine? Recently, I went through a period where I felt that my lack of masculinity was something to be ashamed of, but I realized that this notion was false. Though most boys are brought up to be manly men, I never felt the need to become the embodiment of machismo nature.
My hair has always been long. My frame became sleek and not wide. My voice has always been higher in pitch. I like art, music, and occasionally dressing in ladies' clothes. My testosterone count is normal. I am attracted to women. I grow an inordinate amount of body hair.
Biologically, I am a man. That is my sex. Gender-wise, I still believe I am a man even though I participate in emasculated behavior. I can't fix a car, but I can serenade a woman. I don't know much about football statistics, but I can build a computer from spare parts. I can't lift heavy weights, but I can stand in front of an auditorium full of people and convince them that my word is law.
I sometimes feel the need to be part of a greater whole, but when I reflect on all I have accomplished as well as the extent of my abilities, I am fine existing as an island. When I have children, I want to tell them that it is permissible to deviate from the expected roles placed on them by society. If they need to believe in a god, then that is the right choice for them.
I must say that religion was not the right choice for me, but I do miss the sense of a strong community. I miss thinking that every event has a purpose. I mostly miss the personal assurance that everything is going to be OK. I believe the core values of religion are important for society and should never be forgotten. Grow by demonstrating that these values have taught you something meaningful about life.
The capacity to coexist will yield a fruitful life. Live and let live. Journeys progress step by step, but one should avoid following the trail someone else has provided. How else are we, as a society, to discover new things if we don't take the road less traveled?
Word Count: 857
Monday, November 1, 2010
A Journey
While I trudge through this daunting journey, I also look forward to the destination.
College life pretty much sucks. And I guess I didn't expect to tread lightly through it, but I didn't expect the heavy stress that I currently endure. It's not that the work particularly challenges me, either, but the ten week quarters create a bottleneck effect that stop-gaps my entire life. I have to balance all of the things I want to do with all of the things I have to do, and as they all flow through the bottle of time, there comes a point where only some things pour immediately.
And, sadly, as much as I would like for aspects of my life such as playing music, writing fiction, playing nerdy turn-based games to exist at the forefront of my priorities list, I know that my education has to come first. There are no breaks for me. I can't take a quarter off to clear my head. I can't put schoolwork on the back-burner to focus on songwriting for hours a day. I can do all of these things in moderation, but I have come too far to jeopardize all I have accomplished so far.
It's kind of depressing. The things I want most have to wait so I can secure a future where I can conveniently access them. Maybe I'm just impatient.
I guess my biggest fear is that I'll be too late once I arrive at my secure future to enjoy the things I want to enjoy now. I feel that once I become a professional, the joy-ride of youth is over. While I have worked so hard to secure a stable future, I also finally have the opportunity to experience the youth that was stolen from my childhood by unfortunate circumstances surrounding my home life.
On the other hand, I know how awesome life will be when I don't have to worry about money. It's going to be nice to not serve tables to make less than twenty-thousand a year. I can afford the music equipment I need to facilitate my songwriting. Teaching will allow me to have summers off to write the next great American novel or tour my music around the country. I can enjoy taking Dani wherever she wants to go without having to plan budget cuts. I can readily spend an inordinate amount of money on comic books and graphic novels. I can play stupid games because I can afford buying enough random draw packs to hopefully draw some good units. I can even get a new costume for Comic-Con every year.
I know that getting older doesn't necessarily mean growing up. But I also understand that a lot of things in my life aren't within the area I control. Who knows what I will become in the next several years? Who knows how teaching will change me as a person? I understand that there is always room for growth, but I don't want to grow anymore. I want to hold on to this lapse in judgment and regression into a youth-like state.
I want to take the time to be the kid I never got to be. But I can't do that without first going through this journey... Which is a journey most people would say symbolizes a step towards independence and adulthood.
While these two things juxtapose each other, I'm crossing my fingers that I can have them both.
Word Count: 573
College life pretty much sucks. And I guess I didn't expect to tread lightly through it, but I didn't expect the heavy stress that I currently endure. It's not that the work particularly challenges me, either, but the ten week quarters create a bottleneck effect that stop-gaps my entire life. I have to balance all of the things I want to do with all of the things I have to do, and as they all flow through the bottle of time, there comes a point where only some things pour immediately.
And, sadly, as much as I would like for aspects of my life such as playing music, writing fiction, playing nerdy turn-based games to exist at the forefront of my priorities list, I know that my education has to come first. There are no breaks for me. I can't take a quarter off to clear my head. I can't put schoolwork on the back-burner to focus on songwriting for hours a day. I can do all of these things in moderation, but I have come too far to jeopardize all I have accomplished so far.
It's kind of depressing. The things I want most have to wait so I can secure a future where I can conveniently access them. Maybe I'm just impatient.
I guess my biggest fear is that I'll be too late once I arrive at my secure future to enjoy the things I want to enjoy now. I feel that once I become a professional, the joy-ride of youth is over. While I have worked so hard to secure a stable future, I also finally have the opportunity to experience the youth that was stolen from my childhood by unfortunate circumstances surrounding my home life.
On the other hand, I know how awesome life will be when I don't have to worry about money. It's going to be nice to not serve tables to make less than twenty-thousand a year. I can afford the music equipment I need to facilitate my songwriting. Teaching will allow me to have summers off to write the next great American novel or tour my music around the country. I can enjoy taking Dani wherever she wants to go without having to plan budget cuts. I can readily spend an inordinate amount of money on comic books and graphic novels. I can play stupid games because I can afford buying enough random draw packs to hopefully draw some good units. I can even get a new costume for Comic-Con every year.
I know that getting older doesn't necessarily mean growing up. But I also understand that a lot of things in my life aren't within the area I control. Who knows what I will become in the next several years? Who knows how teaching will change me as a person? I understand that there is always room for growth, but I don't want to grow anymore. I want to hold on to this lapse in judgment and regression into a youth-like state.
I want to take the time to be the kid I never got to be. But I can't do that without first going through this journey... Which is a journey most people would say symbolizes a step towards independence and adulthood.
While these two things juxtapose each other, I'm crossing my fingers that I can have them both.
Word Count: 573
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