Tag Archives: Young

Possibility

Inspiration often comes from the weirdest places. Tonight was a night like a lot of other nights. I was surfing the web when I heard a clap of thunder. Considering how much money I spent on my PC, I saved what I was watching (h3 interviewing Jordan Peterson) to come back to later, shut down my PC, and unplugged it. What to do now? Well, I’m a little hungry. Let’s go to Subway, like I normally do.

I stepped outside, and thought about the thunderstorm. What if I get hit by lightning? You know, many of the people who get hit by lightning are those that least expect it. Who “don’t see it coming”. As soon as I’m comfortable and confident enough to go to my car is when I’m going to get hit by lightning. So I stood there, just outside my door. Do I really want to go to Subway anyway? Am I really that hungry? What are my other options? I could read. But I’m really into what I was going before the storm came. Let’s just go to Subway and see if the storm passes by the time I get back home. I’ll eat inside (as I normally do, anyway) to kill more time, then come back home, plug my computer back up, and get back to watching videos.

And as I stood outside my door, something hit me, quite like a metaphorical bolt of lightning. I finally thought of the words to really describe something about myself that I found quite interesting. I thought of the word “possibility”. I realized that I am a man of “possibility”. There was a “possibility” that I could’ve been hit by lightning. There’s a possibility I could be bitten by a poisonous spider. But my thinking of “possibilities” aren’t all negative. For instance, there is a “possibility” that I could make money from Youtube. There is a “possibility” that I could write something that people enjoy. These possibilities motivate me at least as much, if not more than the negative possibilities.

I also realized this back when I used to play poker. It was rarely for any actual money (that’s a good thing. It’s rather humorous to think that one of the only times that I did play poker for money was in, I believe, 8th grade. I brought the cards, and we were gambling our dimes and quarters of our lunch money. We were finally caught one time, but nothing major came of it. The teacher just, a little frantically, told us to “put that up”. Funny to think of that reaction. I typically ignored “the authorities” (not necessarily cops, but just anyone “in charge” of me) so her horror of our gambling didn’t really affect me. I didn’t see any harm in it, and still don’t).

Poker is a game of probabilities. The least “likely” hands are the “strongest”. There’s certain likelihoods that specific things have taken place. You consider the “unlikelihood” of your own hand, and consider if, whether or not, your hand is “less likely” than your opponent’s. Then, you wager as much “money” (“real” or “fake”) as you think he will also wager. The “unlikeliest” hand wins all of the money: “the pot”.

I became interested in poker because of the “World Series of Poker” on ESPN (which I used to watch religiously). Many people were sitting at tables, playing Texas Hold ‘Em. I was watching ESPN all of the time. Watching football highlights, baseball highlights, and I was starting to get into both basketball and ice hockey. Poker came on, and I was intrigued. I couldn’t stop watching. It was fascinating to me. Hearing the clicks of the chips. The amount of money being bet. It was fantastic.

I tried to learn how the “odds” worked. I don’t particularly care to do math in my head. Paper and calculations are easier and more satisfactory. But one thing has always bothered me about “probabilities”. They aren’t exact. If you have a 35% chance of winning, then you only (yes, I’m using that word) have a 65% chance of losing. So what should you do? Should you always play by the numbers? I have decided “no”. For one, I don’t care about calculating the numbers that much, and, secondly, they aren’t exact. That isn’t very fun to me. Learning the numbers to play by them all of the time isn’t fun to me.

Now, of course, it wasn’t that I was completely against “odds”. I wouldn’t calculate into percentages, but I would still try to determine if my hand was stronger than my opponent’s. I have two pair. Do I really think he has a flush? Do I really think he has a straight? How is he betting? My decisions were not necessarily based on the percentage probability that my opponent had a stronger hand than I had. It was, mainly, based on the strength of my own hand, how my opponent was betting, reading body language (while doing my best to not give anything away by remaining absolutely motionless (which I was pretty good at)), and trying to play mind games with him. It wasn’t that I didn’t think about, say, how many diamonds were left in the deck. But that wasn’t the main factor behind my decision-making process. Only one factor. And other factors were, most of the time, more influential.

You win some, you lose some. A lot of it depends upon who you’re up against. I could’ve “hedged my bets” a little more, but I didn’t want to. I played for a different reason than most. Some things never change…

I’m sure if a “professional” poker player reads this, they’ll cringe. But I’m not a “professional” poker player. I played for fun, the way that I wanted to play. And I played on possibility. These last two sentences are my life motivations.

Any time that I decide to write, I have a temptation to want to address counterpoints. I don’t think there is anything “wrong” with this. In fact, I think it’s a very good thing to do. Attempting to strengthen arguments is a good thing to do. But, too often, I find myself angry, and attempting to justify myself “against the world”. I don’t really think I have much of a choice. Anyone who wishes to do anything outside of the “norm” will receive “advice” that amounts to “Nah, don’t try that. It’s really hard. Do something more ‘normal’.” I can’t take that boring advice. And why should I? Why should odds keep me from playing the poker game and enjoying it? Why should I sit at the table, miserable, and expecting to lose, instead of sitting at the table happy, and expecting to win? If it doesn’t matter to me how much money I lose, then why should I care, as long as I’m enjoying myself? And if you’re so afraid of losing money, why are you even sitting down at the table to begin with? Why are you even in the casino, observing me play poker? If you’re terrified of losing money, why are you even in the gambling building? You can’t watch me play IF YOU AREN’T IN THE BUILDING. I need to treat you as outside of the casino. I can’t hear you, and you can’t ruin my fun… (“Or save you!”, they incessantly add).

I prefer risk to boredom. Not to such an extent that I crave to “defy death”. But my “excitement” is writing, and trying to get people to pay attention to me, mainly through laughing at me, and dreaming of making people laughing at me a full-time job. That’s as “risky” as I get. I’m not getting drunk and driving 140 mph, like many of those who try to give me advice have done in the past. I’m just trying to get people to laugh at me. It’s really not as serious as the “risky” things that these “advice-givers” have done. So I’d appreciate it if they would shut the fuck up, to be frank. I could not give less of a fuck about any “odds”.

I accept that there are different types of people in the world. Some more risk-averse than others. The ways that people make decisions are varied. I fully accept that not everyone will live the way that I want to live, nor would they want to. I fully accept that. But I also accept that I am not going to be happy unless I take control of my personal life. I will not be happy unless this control factors in my nature, which includes my desire to express myself, and my desire to make myself laugh. I will not be happy unless this control factors in my imagination, and my dreams. I will not be happy if this control becomes like people who aren’t me. I will not be happy if this control does not come from me: if it does not feel like it is mine.

Because I am anticipating the “advice-givers”, I will throw them that obvious bone that they salivate after, and say “Yes, I must accept responsibility for my actions.” But I don’t understand why these “advice-givers” are more focused on my life than theirs. Are they so “risk-averse” that they run on autopilot, with no tough decisions to ever make, so they have plenty of time and energy to criticize others? Maybe you need to try something more difficult. Maybe you need a more strenuous hobby. Maybe you need to mind your own business?

No, all I need is a possibility and passion. That’s what I want. I think I can get by with that. Those two motivating factors will help me improve upon what it is that I am doing. Life is unbearably monotonous when you’re full of dread. If you don’t have anything to look forward to, and instead, ceaselessly focus on your job, and your bills, life becomes very dark. Even a man who hates his job and is in debt can look forward to that six-pack of beer when he gets home. Maybe that’s what gets him through life, and his day. Everybody’s got their “thing” that gets them through life. And these “things” are as diverse as the people who use them. Passion, for me, is the only thing that makes unavoidable monotony even the least bit bearable. And I have decided that I will not suffer, and try to live without it, for any reason: particularly to satisfy “advice-givers”.

I know that not all “advice-givers” are trying to be dissuasive. Some of them are trying to be “persuasive”. “Cody, I’m fine with you having this goal. But here’s how you can achieve it better. Just do all of these things, and stop doing all of these things that you’re actually doing, and then, you probably won’t get there, but I accept that you aren’t going to stop doing it, so here’s the best advice that I can give you.” No. My life isn’t about the destination. It’s about the journey. I’ve got a “dream” destination. But even if I don’t get there, that’s the journey I’m going to take, and I’m going to fucking enjoy it.

Enjoy your almost unbearable misery. Maybe we’ll see each other on the other side, and then, maybe, we’ll relate to each other a little more. And maybe you won’t be as miserable as you are now.

And, of course, I should also add that having a “hyper” sense of humor as I have makes this journey a helluva lot easier. I try to find humor in everything (because that’s my nature, and also, because boredom is constant with me). I want to keep developing my sense of humor. And having a sense of humor is a great way to deal with the “advice-givers”, whether they be “haters” or “justified”. Maniacally laughing to myself, just to confuse them, makes it all all-the-more worthwhile.

And, I suppose, I will conclude with the obvious message that the unlikeliest events are the strongest, most powerful ones, when they happen: whether those “events” are positive or negative. I suppose you could’ve been smart enough to draw that connection yourself, but I decided to bash you over the head with it, anyway. Let’s call it “payback”. Besides: I need to start learning to write more words, anyway. Even if they’re garbage. But that’s a tale for another time…

I could also do the same thing, beating you over the head, and say “I’ve already made it clear to you that anxiety is part of my ‘possibility’ philosophy, as evidenced by the very beginning of this. Don’t you think I’ve considered the ‘possibility’ that everything I’m working toward will be nothing, and that I’ll regret all of this? Do you really think I haven’t considered that possibility? Do you really think I’m that ignorant, ye of little faith? Do you think that I haven’t considered that at all? Or is it possible that I have considered this, and yet, for some reason that you don’t seem to understand, have still decided that it is worthwhile to pursue?”

“Cody, when are you going to stop writing about ‘possibility’? When are you going to start creating work that is actually substantial?” So naive……

“Are you saying that this piece of shit you’ve just written here is substantial?” (starts laughing)

No response.

“Wow, he actually does!” (more laughter)

No response.

Let them think what they wish.

The truth exists within the heart.

Advertisements

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

He sat down at his computer desk. Resilient; braced by the cold. The deadly stars signaling down upon him a hope that science couldn’t understand. Hope couldn’t be calculated numerically. But what could be measured, in a way, deadened the beauty of the firmament. Beautiful mystery became cold, deadly reality. The curiosity of childhood became the death of adulthood. Rotting in the ground. What do the dead have to live for, really?

The cold awakens a man. I could never understand, for the life of me, why anyone would want to live in the arctic or anarctic. The cold, to me, meant school. Wee hours of the morning, shaken from a warm bed, and comforting sleep. To painful fingers, sharp breaths, and crotchetiness. Or snow, which just meant more painful fingers. (“Snowmen” were always an overrated disappointment). Cold was always the enemy.

And yet, not quite. There were always the moments, before the snow would fall, which produced a magical wonder that I still can’t explain. The falling of the leaves, the sharpness of the cold, awakened the sunshine within my heart. There was just something about the fall. Movies, set during the fall, produced this same enjoyment. The cold weather, and the dead leaves, woke me. I knew that more death was coming; more dead limbs, more grass consumed by the white coffin. But that made the dying all the more precious. Those moments, before death, were beautiful. There’s always a potential for profundity during dying. Tragic are those who don’t experience that during their final moments. I pray for enlightenment for all during their final moments…

Then, things came alive, and everyone was happy. I suppose I never really complained about it. But the feeling was not the same as in autumn. It was unexplainable. Perhaps a mental disorder. More likely, just a personality quirk. But there’s no time of year quite like autumn. It makes me wish it would never end. I suppose it is like living each day as if it were your last. No one thinks about death during the spring, when everything is being born. Nor the summer, when things are being watered (if not drowned) by torrentials. They think about death in the fall, and, most of all, in the winter. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that spring and summer are more well-liked than autumn and winter. But I’m always just a little bit weird.

There’s usually a lot of good in the summer. Swimming, and camping. Ice cream, cold drinks. Flame-grilled animals wafting through the hot air; sports. Lots of fun. But there’s not the mood that autumn provides. Sure, summer produces its own mood. But autumn produces this different mood. One might call it “pure elation”. The same feeling others feel during the spring, or the summer. It isn’t about piling up leaves, and jumping in them. It’s the fact that the dead leaves exist at all. Hanging from the trees, providing the backdrop for ominous imaginings. Halloween is the time for monsters, afterall. It could be the fact that autumn is the beginning of family time. Holidays are always an excuse to get together with family, and the end of the year seems to include more family time than any other time of year (of course, there’s the 4th of July. But the “holiday season” is Halloween, but, more importantly and seriously, Thanksgiving and Christmas (important and serious simply because of the contrasting moods of Thanksgiving and Christmas as compared to Halloween. Halloween is still important)). And, as always, there’s more delicious food than any other time of year (unless you’re always around an older woman who enjoys cooking, and enjoys satisfying her family with her food). But yet, there’s something more.

Autumn is the time of year where you can be inside, or outside, and still be comfortable. The storms of the summer have long gone. No more clouds. No more thunder and lightning, or deluge. Clear skies. Clear, cold, starry skies. Comfortable inside, and out. Inside providing that warm, sleepy comfort, which becomes more pronounced when the trees are sticks, and the ground is ivory. But the outdoors become a nuisance. A hazard. Ice is the “name of the game”. And the ice can destroy your indoor comforts, until some pitiful men come and help make your inside more bearable.

But the autumn isn’t that severe. It’s cold enough to wake you up, but not cold enough to make you want to kill yourself. Not quite cold enough to get deathly ill (unless you’re stupid enough to still try to swim in the summer lakes and rivers). No, autumn is the time between awakenness and sleepiness. The time after running around, and the time before electric blankets. It is the time of laying on the grass outside, looking at the stars in the coldness, and imagining just how much colder it is up there than it is down here. Just how hot those stars really are. There’s no math, necessarily, required, to appreciate the beauty of nature. Complementary, but not comprehensive. At least not to this dreaming poet.

The time is coming for sweaters and heaters and feasts and family and presents and pine. And there’s another special time, sooner than this, where everyone pretends to be monsters, and laughs, high on chocolate, or punch. Gorging on more fictional blood than normal; a time when only the most staunch “Christians” oppose the gorefest. One would hope, and pray, that even the most Conservative among us let loose, and enjoy a bloody flick this time a year. God, I would hope so…

I know, to many, spring is their favorite time of the year, because the plants come back to life from the frost. I can only stare at a tree for so long until I get bored. “Spring” means “clean”: it’s time for the dust of winter to go. I suppose I’m much to lazy to actually enjoy cleaning. I do enjoy it when I finally feel like taking the initiative, but to do it constantly diminishes the beauty of it. I don’t want eclipses to become mundane.

To some, summer is their favorite time of the year, much for the same reason: being outdoors, grilling or swimming or camping or hiking. Connecting with nature. Some enjoy being in “summer” constantly, and wish to be there, even if they can’t. They never get enough of beaches and bikinis, and, sometimes, booze.

To some insane souls, winter is their favorite time of year. Their unholy souls are warmed by the white coffin. Perhaps they are sadists who enjoy seeing people slip upon the ice. (Some people enjoy being where winter exists year-round, to see how “tough” they really are. Admirable, but I’m much too soft for that. At least, at the moment).

But autumn is where my heart lies. Could it be because this is the time of year where the color orange boldly thrusts itself upon an unsuspecting populace? Pumpkins and Crayola drawings of leaves from children and candy corns? Orange does have a way of catching the eye. The orange of October turns into the brown of November, into the white of December. (Interesting how, in this case, white means death. Normally, black, its opposite, means death. But aren’t there some old sayings about seeing a bright white light when one dies? We pretend to know what death is in October, with black everywhere, and zombies, and actors pretending to be murderers. But December is when everything really dies. It becomes dead and blinding, almost like actually dying, according to many accounts of Christians. Could that be why many Christians hate Halloween? Not only the demons, but the fact that it is the time of pretending to be dead, instead of actually dying, which is what their entire lives revolve around?) But, oddly enough, people’s spirits come to life in the autumn. No, in truth, they never really die. Souls are alive in the spring, alive in the summer, alive in the fall, and, yes, even alive in the winter. An excuse to cuddle up with a blanket, and just be happy. Remember that? Before you had to go to school, remember how you felt when you came inside after playing outside in the snow? Remember how happy that made you? You could’ve avoided the outside altogether. But it wouldn’t have been as good. Isn’t that interesting? The cold made you happier to be warm. It provided you with a comfort that you normally didn’t feel. That you took for granted. That’s rather interesting, isn’t it?

Some of the perverted (mainly Conservatives, as it were), will use that fact to suggest that we should all stand outside in the snow, naked, catching all kinds of sicknesses, to appreciate our heaters inside. I’m not that perverted and sadistic. Rather, I’m honest enough, and good enough of a person, to merely say that I enjoy the autumn. No, I love the autumn. There’s no other time in the world like it. I don’t know how I’d feel if I ever lived in a place that didn’t have autumn. I fear it would drive me mad. I love this time of year, and I plan on enjoying it for the short time it makes a visit. I hope, maybe, if you’re one who doesn’t enjoy the changing of the season, particularly when it gets colder, that I’ve maybe caused you to reconsider your position. Take in that sharp breath of cold air, and wake up. Or go inside and have a hot drink, if you wish. I think I’ll stare at the stars for a while longer, and soak in the frozen canvas. And, besides: isn’t that what makes paintings so special? Hell, not only paintings, but photographs, and books, and movies? The fact that they are frozen in time, and constant? Never-changing? We know what to expect from them once we’ve experienced them. And that, in itself, is comforting. It’s just refreshing to be slapped in the face by cold air every once in a while, as well.

Child.

Kid.

How to find a good title for everything that amounts to a “life’s work”?

I think I’ve finally figured out a good way to describe what exactly it is that I’m looking for out of life. It comes down to one word: “profundity”. I want to be moved. I want nature and life to make me cry. I want to be able to cry in front of someone while looking at something beautiful, and be able to say to them “That’s beautiful.”

I’ve always had this sense, for many years, that something was missing in my life. I couldn’t figure out what it was. I think part of the problem is being surrounded by the perspective of the “average” person: dull, and dumb. Not much to look forward to but the next race or ball game (I’m not talking about family, but just being around people in public, overhearing conversations constantly, coworkers, etc.). That’s not what life is about to me. I think that’s why I’ve been going on these solo drives lately. One, just for new environments. But, arguably even more so, because of self-reflection.

I feel like I’ve been beaten down over the years with constant derision of being an “overthinker“. No one could possibly understand the enjoyment that I get from contemplation. I haven’t known how to speak out against it. Now that I’m older, with more responsibility and freedom, I find myself asking: What do I want my perspective to be? What do I want to think about? Where do I want my mind to be? That’s a very deep question. Going through the motions gets you through the day. But is that all my life is? “Getting through the day”? What’s the point in that? You’re telling me that God created our entire universe, the Earth, and US, for Christ’s sake, just for us to “get through the day”? What kind of ultimate purpose is THAT? A fucking pathetic one.

No, there’s something missing in my life, for sure. So much talk revolves around bills and jobs. Not only politically, but just “small talk”. To be fair, I guess when it occupies as much time and energy as it does, that is inevitable. But am I to take certain inevitabilities as the purpose of my life? If I were to get cancer tomorrow, would I treat that cancer as the purpose of my life? Would I talk about it constantly, and think of nothing else but it? Or would I look for profundity in other things? I think the answer is the latter.

I’m tired of listening to well-meaninged people warning about a “life wasted”. I want to be able to say why I disagree with them. In order to do that, I need to use words. I need to “overthink” about words. I’m tired of playing dumb just to keep some sense of “social peace”. Your inferiority complex shouldn’t be my problem. There’s too much profundity to be concerned with some jackass that feels insecure because your vocabulary is deeper than his.

And that should go for myself as well. I shouldn’t dismiss someone just because they speak better than me. Just learn how to speak better, you fucking retard. Learn new words. Become a better listener. It’s not one of the Ten Commandments: just an improvable life skill.

The ultimate problem is that I’m not allowing myself to get lost in my own head enough. I listen to others a lot so that I can learn things for myself. But speaking up for myself is difficult many times. I don’t really allow myself, often enough, to reflect, and contemplate. This makes those times when I do feel like doing those things all the more special. There’s other factors mentally blocking me from fully dedicating myself to creating things. I’ll have to continue to write about those later, even though I’m sure I’ve already touched on them somewhere.

My head is too full of the words of others instead of what feels like my own independent thoughts. Social anxiety is one reason why I can’t tune others out. The other is that responsibility scares me. The unknown future is scary for all of us often. So we focus on our immediate day, where more things are under our control. But I’ve encountered so many people that say “Where in the hell did my life go?” that it scares me, so I try to think more about the future. And I believe that my future would be better if I allowed myself to get more lost inside of my own head, instead of replaying the words of others in my head constantly and doubting my every desire and decision. That ain’t working anymore. I can’t write like that. Writing requires independent thoughts. I love writing. I need independent thoughts. I need MY words. I don’t want my words to just be “Here’s what someone else told me one time.” What’s MY analysis?

But it’s hard to allow myself to get lost in my head. As I’ve said, it’s just scary to be alone inside of your own head. All of your mistakes come at once. All of your uncertainties. Your worst fears. They come storming at you. It’s easier to close the door of your independent mind and let someone else distract you from yourself. Perhaps some music would help?

Going out on a limb like this, of course, poses its own problems. What if I’m wrong? That’s humiliating. Will I just be able to say “I messed up?” Once again, I think that’s, mainly, just a skill that needs to be learned. It’s one thing to realize the power of humility when you feel like you aren’t making a mistake. It’s another when you realize you have.

Another problem is experience. EVERYTHING is “experience”. But the question should be: what kind of experience? I need more experience with linguisticators. I want to figure out why they burn me out so much. I understand that reading, and listening to good speakers, would help me with my own desire to communicate. But I’m always hesitant to do so. Why? Well, for one, language is separate from the subject. I like focusing on a couple of subjects at a time. But then, I get burned out. So in order to keep reading, and not feeling burnt out on the subject, I’d have to read about another subject. But which one? That’s the problem. Reading something and realizing that I don’t enjoy it. Or just getting tired of it, like eating the same food everyday, except with a book. I need to approach reading differently. Instead of focusing on the subject, I need to focus on the language used. That’s not going to be easy. I’m still going to read subjects that I enjoy, of course. But I also need to be able to analyze the use of language separately from the content of the work. Ok, this work is boring me. But is it written well? If so, why? And then, try to learn how to use language better for myself. Once again, this is just a skill that needs to be learned.

Ultimately, the solution will probably come down to reading writers better than I (shouldn’t be too hard to find). I need to have a certain mindset to be open enough to understand what it is exactly that makes their writing better than mine, and how to use that for myself. I guess the question becomes: how much do I want to do that, exactly? I don’t know how much of it will satisfy me yet. I don’t even know how to approach it, really. I anticipate that if I took the advice of someone else that I’d burn out quickly and then get tired of learning how to get better altogether. I think this is a slow, natural, lifetime process that I can’t fully explain yet. It could be the case that I’m lying to myself, and all of this is for naught. But I think it is the only thing that satisfies my heart, and that matters to me (of course). The challenge is being able to explain WHY I believe that it matters.

Another reason that I find language so difficult is that I’ve always associated good speakers with charlatans. It’s easy to tell if an idiot is “good” or “evil“. It’s much harder when someone speaks well. I was so afraid of being evil (thanks, free will baptism) that I just avoided language like the plague. I realize now how stupid that was. But now begins the task of fixing it. And that’s going to be hard, considering how far behind I am because of my old way of thinking. You may say “You write well now,” but you have no idea how good it can become. I do.

For better or worse, ethics consume most of my thoughts. I think this is an evident combination of genes and environment. Certainly, my religious upbringing and journey has a lot to do with why thoughts of ethics almost consume me. But I know there’s definitely a major genetic component as well. Hypocrisy, especially if I do something “evil”, scares me. I just don’t want to do it. I, like everyone else, am torn between doing good and evil. I have, and will, do both throughout my life. And that bothers the fuck out of me. I guess one might say “The fact that it bothers you proves that you’re a good person.” But I will take no solace in that. The thought of being a hypocrite bothers me. Especially the thought of being a hypocrite on a very famous scale (and I desire “fame” only as a measure of success that I wish to have, so that I don’t get stuck in a life that I resent everyday. Maybe one day I’ll just be “content” like everyone else, but I have goals, and I want them. And that’s all I care about. I know that it takes that type of attitude to succeed, so now, all I need is that success, so that I can hand you the check and say “I told you so.” And if it doesn’t work, who cares? I’ll join you at the factory line and you can tell me about all of the time I’ve wasted, whereas I can say “At least I tried” and make fun of you for NOT trying). I find enjoyment in being critical, and that obviously puts a lot of pressure on me. “Just stop being so critical,” you might say. Criticism, especially humorous criticism, is too much fucking fun. I think it’s worth the anxiety of making a mistake. And, once again, I think that’s another reason why humility is a skill that I desperately need to develop.

And that never-ending war of trying to figure out how to “handle” other people. In a way where the advice of others doesn’t deafen my own independent thoughts. Trying to figure out truth is a lifelong battle: as is dealing with the evil of others. It will continue on forever, as you continue to get older, and, eventually, die. We do good, we do evil, then we think about and talk about the evil of others. Then, we listen to others talk about the evil of still yet others. I’m so fucking exhausted with it all. I want to take part in it, but I’m also fucking sick of it. “Hypocrisy”, I guess you’d say. And here comes the advice. And here’s where Cody has to say “Ignore it, because you want to.” And here’s where Cody hears others complaining that he said he’s going to ignore them. And here’s where Cody needs to tell himself “Just continue ignoring them.” And here’s where Cody hears them saying that “Yes, you need to ignore them.” And here’s where Cody realizes they are “them” so he shouldn’t listen to them. And on, and on, and fucking on. “Just stop”- I can’t- “You think too much”-no I don’t shut up haven’t you read fucking anything I’ve written up to this point? Maybe you realize the problem now.

I can’t wait to just become an old grouch. That’s what my heart ultimately longs for. It flies in the face of all “advice” you’ll hear. But who gives a shit. I’m a grumpy old grouch at heart, goddammit, and that’s what I want to be. So it’s going to fucking stay that way. Get out.

You can’t appreciate profundity when a bunch of stupid blabbermouths don’t see it and won’t shut the fuck up about what they do see.

…Stuff like this makes me wish that either I was older or that I end up dying younger. I can’t take 80 years of thinking like this, and I refuse to think like everyone else. I’m hopeful that this will change as time goes by. But, of course, I want it NOW. I already feel about 90. If I ever do make it to 90, I can’t imagine how I’d feel. That’s scary. Maybe I don’t want to make it to 90. But things do change…

Communication, like everything else, is hard. Regardless of what “natural” abilities you may have, everything gets hard at some point. There’s a reason why talented, say, basketball players practice. Michael Jordan has always been, and will always be, a better basketball player than me. And most. So why did he practice? Well……….what ELSE was he going to do? THAT was a question that he had to ask himself. And he ANSWERED it himself. That’s what I need to do. It doesn’t matter that I’ll (probably) never become the “Michael Jordan” of writing. That is so far removed from the point that that thought shouldn’t have even entered your head. The point is what do I want my writing and thoughts to be, and what do I want to do with them?

And that produces a fine line. Writing involves organization, knowing when to lengthen a piece, and knowing when to cut one off. My default position has just been to cut everything off short (because it’s easier). But something has been missing. I knew this day would come eventually, so I have never stressed about today not being around yesterday. But the day has come where I’m no longer satisfied with cutting things off prematurely. I’ve said stuff like this a million times, but it continues to be true. The process of writing is constant. I’ll probably say, throughout my entire life, that “I need to learn how to edit.” It doesn’t matter how much better I get from one year to the next, I anticipate that I’ll still say “I need to learn how to edit.” Why? Well, this is where the “Michael Jordan” analogy comes into play. What in the fuck ELSE am I going to do with my writing? If I don’t do that, but I want to write, the writing is just going to be “WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD”. What’s the point in reading that? There IS none. Michael Jordan won a championship and an MVP one year. Why did he play the next year? It’s all about an attitude, and what one wants to do. I don’t care if I never win a writing MVP, or whatever. I don’t care if I’m not ranked among the 100,000 best writers ever. The point is that I want to write, and what attitude am I going to have while I do so? I pity those that don’t understand what I’m talking about. They’re kind of idiots.

I hope I don’t burn out too quickly. This has been a lifetime coming, but, ultimately, I think everything is. Everything has been leading up to everything. That’s unavoidable. But being able to explain that in certain ways is a skill that I wish to develop. One of the skills that I wish to develop.

I also need to work on the fact that even if someone’s advice doesn’t help me, at least they want to. I can ignore it, but at least I can say “Well, they’re trying to help, even if they aren’t.” At least give them that credit. And then, get back to my alone time as quickly as possible. I’m sure they’ll understand. At least, if I’ve explained myself well enough, they will. I think my main frustration with advice is that I haven’t been able to effectively speak for myself. That’s a pattern that I continue to notice. I’ve never been happy with my ability to speak for myself, and it’s something I’ve worked on for many, many years. And I have a long fucking way to go. It’s all a complicated weave that I have in my head that I want to be able to elaborate. And it’s exasperating. And it just keeps building more and more and more. It’s hard to handle, but this is the best time in my life to handle it financially. I can’t afford to waste this opportunity. I want all of my ideas to come fast, and just get them all done as rapidly as possible. But they need to mature to maintain a quality that I’m happy with. It’s not about writing a bestseller, it’s just about writing good stuff, goddammit. My heart has always hurt when inspiration has hit me and I couldn’t write because I was at work, or had to go to school the next day. Staying up for hours later than I should just because “It hit me.” Feeling frustrated because I had other responsibilities that kept me from writing. So much of that has changed. This is the time that I’ve been desperate for my whole life. SO WHY IN THE FUCK WOULD I EVER STRUGGLE TO WRITE?????????? Write NOW, dammit!!! In truth, there’s still stuff to figure out, as there always has been. But this is, more than likely, the best time I will EVER HAVE to create. EVER. I’ll have more free time now than I’ve ever had. That pressure is terrifying. But if I get in too much of a hurry, the work sucks. And I need to absorb more before I can regurgitate more. I haven’t been happy with much of my writing for a long time now, and it’s mainly because I just didn’t have enough within me to get it done the way I wanted to get done. There’s too much for me to elaborate on here, but I want to do it eventually. All of my work is a tangled weave of my life. It all connects, in the grand scheme of things. I’m a “mad scientist”. It’s a delicate balance. I guess I’ll just have to hope that I don’t see it all as a mistake down the road, and figure out exactly what I’m going to do today, and how.

Technical ability to improve quality (of things like video) is a skill I need to learn without burning myself out trying to do so. Software, camera work, lighting. No, I don’t need to go to school for it. I’ll experiment with it myself eventually. But I need a better outlook of completing good work. A – you guessed it – philosophical approach to quality and effort. I know that probably sounds weird to you. But I want to be able to explain what I mean eventually. I want to be able to explain everything. How I write, etc.

I need to hurry up and get better so I can churn out more stuff, and keep improving it. The gaps in time between my writings are far too fucking long for my taste. But I can’t just type “BLAH BLAH BLAH” and say I’ve written something. It just takes a lot of time. Everything does. And then, I’ll get old and say “Holy fuck. Where did the time go?”

I still have a lot of things that I want to say about the past. About writing. I want to be able to explain what is going on inside of my head. If that doesn’t interest you, that’s fine. If it enrages you, I find that humorous. If it inspires you, that’s terrifying. But the ultimate point is that I want to be lost inside of my own head to find some peace in this world. That’s mainly what I care about at the moment. That, and just learning how to do everything better, such as my attitude and “dealing with” other people. And editing, and organizing, etc.

So that’s what I’m working on, I guess. Lmfao (When to work? When to break? When to write? When to listen to music? Who to listen to? Who to ignore? WHEN WHEN WHEN? It never ends).

The hardest part about all of this is having known, for a long time, that all of this was going to happen (or at least significant parts of it), but having it not happen. Realizing “Yep, this is definitely a waiting game.” As my favorite childhood musician once said, “The waiting is the hardest part.”

Bulleted lists of what I like about writing and what I hate about writing.

Why Express?

Highly Sensitive Mind.

My poetry.

Murray Rothbard – Left, Right, and the Prospects for Liberty

Murray Rothbard – Left, Right, and the Prospects for Liberty.

An Uneducated Perspective of Art (Specifically, Comedy) on the Internet

It is fascinating to think of all of the different artistic things created throughout human history. The number of writings, songs, etc. The fact that music almost 40 years old is still listened to; that writing 60, 100, 180 years old is still read.

I have this weird fear of things like the internet disappearing. When something is good, surely something bad is going to happen, and wipe it out, right? I fear that the internet is a fad: that things are eventually going to disappear as time goes along. All the good stuff just gone, and we’re left with destitution and misery. Much like the Dark Ages. (Don’t tell me that the world wouldn’t end just because the internet disappears. Please tell me you aren’t so stupid as to not understand my point).

But I desire to develop a new perspective about art and history. I hope that things put on the internet last forever. That the internet lasts forever. That it becomes a medium as resilient as the book. Radio. Television. That the songs put on it remain in people’s ears for 30, 50 years. That the comedy put on it leaves an impression like “Da Bears”. I think that with any new medium (don’t split hairs: the internet’s popularity is relatively “new” regardless of how long it has been around), there’s reservations. I’m sure that, throughout history, when a new technology came along, people thought it was a fad. That it would disappear. Even if they didn’t want it to. But the fact that they didn’t want it to helped keep it alive. Producers kept producing what the consumers wanted. That’s how capitalism works.

This gives me hope for the internet. A lot of the common thoughts about the internet that exist today will be gone tomorrow. Because it is still so relatively new, people are experiencing it differently than they will once it is established, in my opinion. Being able to read and write joke after joke, and share it with people, is a very interesting thing. Before the internet, how did you tell your jokes? Did you even have any? Did you even invest the time to think about them due to the fact that it was much harder to share them with anyone? How did you tell them if you did? Joke with friends? Stand-up if you were really serious about it? Being fortunate enough to enter television as a writer, actor, etc.? But the internet has completely changed the entertainment game. Much like the transition from live theatre performances to television. The internet is going to change all forms of media. Other forms of media, like terrestrial radio, and, especially, television, are having to compete with the internet. (And they are going to lose, unless they successfully lobby to censor the internet). There are new celebrities being created, new talents discovered and honed, and a wealth of comedy unlike the world has ever seen.

There’s one thing that I’m quite fearful of regarding censorship on the internet. I have never talked about it because I have feared that I’d give “the elites” nefarious ideas, but the truth is that they already have them, so speaking out only informs the public that stands the best chance of combating that nefariability. Let’s use Youtube as an example. Let’s compare it to television and terrestrial radio. In television and radio, the FCC limits certain words from being transmitted over the airwaves. I’m no expert in this field, but, apparently, if you broadcast certain words over the radio, or television at certain times of day, you can lose your license. Am I wrong about this? If I’m not, what is the license for, exactly? I think it is to broadcast at a certain wavelength without interference. I’m not too sure. I have often thought the government was somehow trying to impose its own moralistic sensibilities upon free speech with regards to the FCC. But maybe there’s more to the story than that. Regardless, the internet is different. It’s quite weird to me. Certain cusswords are always censored over the radio. On television, they are censored most of the time, but it depends on the channel, and, sometimes, even on the time of day. But the internet is completely different. People cuss constantly on the internet. And it’s great. People are free to produce and consume what they want. There will never be a time more free in the internet’s history than right now. As time goes along, more and more government restrictions will be placed on it. That’s simply how “progress” works, even if it’s horrible. The libertarianism on the internet is fantastic. It should be cherished. Want to watch Youtube videos where there is no cussing? Just type in “no cussing” with whatever else it is you are looking for. There’s always a supply to meet the demand. There will never be a time of greater free expression on the internet than today. This makes me very sad, but I appreciate today. I hope we keep forced censorship off of the internet forever. Its impact cannot be measured enough.

I am very interested to see how it all goes, and I hope to contribute a little bit to this “internet world”.

I hope it never goes away.

I feel like the internet is very easily dismissed by people, say, 40 and older. At least, it just feels that way. Of course, there are elderly people that understand the power of the internet. Maybe they were some of the ones that contributed to the infrastructure. But, as is always the case, the elderly are the slowest to adopt to the new technologies.

It is interesting to think that people in their 40s today will, if they live to be 80, have spent 40 years on the internet. What changes will be made to the internet by then? It’s also interesting to think of the 50 year olds that will be on the internet then. What will the children who have spent their entire lives on the internet be like? For some reason, old people like to condemn kids that spend too much time in front of “screens”. It doesn’t matter that television has been around since the 40s, movies before that, and that children ever since then have been glued to “screens”. “Oh, but the screen wasn’t that close to their face,” you may say. You’re overreacting. It always is the case that older generations worry about the “younger generations”. That’s just how it is. I do, and will do, the same thing. It’s part of the natural flow.

But it is interesting to think about. I have often heard about how technology has changed people’s lives, but I’ve never really sat and thought about it. Not just “technology” by today’s common vernacular, but things like cars, sewing machines, etc. Technology is here to stay, and it always will be. Barring a complete one world government takeover that lasts for generations or natural disaster where all prior knowledge is completely destroyed, and we must start human development from scratch, like Adam and Eve, technology is here to stay. And that gives me immense comfort.

There’s also always an envy of the younger generations by the older generations. “Back in my day, we had to walk uphill both ways.” That isn’t completely untrue. Older generations always have had it harder. And it is understandable why they would be resentful of younger generations that really do have it easier in many ways. It really does make you feel pity for those that were raised during times when “modern” conveniences didn’t even exist. At least some of them are content anyway. That’s all we can ever really ask for, isn’t it? Contentment. It’s also sad to think of all of those who are missing out not only on the internet, but a warm meal. There just always has to be someone getting fucked over by life. It has always been that way, and it always will be. There is no perfect solution to make everyone happy all of the time. But there certainly remains something to be said for those that lend a helping hand in the moment.

I can’t wait to continue to be moulded by “modern technology” (currently, the internet, in particular) and see how it affects me as the years go on. I can’t wait to see the advancements, and the forms of art created through various technological means.

This is a much healthier perspective to have about technology than condemning it because of “kids these days” (this is a very good video, by the way). I’m going to continue contributing various things to servers, and I hope that everyone else continues to do the same.

I can’t wait to see where all of this goes, and how it affects me.

Also, I’m not going to go into detail about it here, but I’m interested to see how copyright and the internet play out over time. What happens to “fair use”, torrenting, etc. Very interested in seeing how all of this plays out.

What a time to be alive.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

(I have also failed to mention the political implications of advancements in technology, such as the NSA. I’ll have to go into detail about that at a future time, however).

There’s one more thing I want to mention about the internet, and that is advertising. Along with copyright issues, and the ever-present threat of government tyranny, advertising (or, specifically, adblocking) present the greatest possibility for changes to the internet. Older people do not know about adblocking like the younger generations do. Tech-savvy people know more about it than “the average person”. But as time goes along, more and more people will be using adblockers. Of course, the coders who get paid through advertisements are going to develop new ways around the adblockers. But, the adblockers will continue developing new ways around the adblocker blockers. Will it some day be illegal to install an adblocker? Is it already illegal in some countries? How will they ultimately affect the internet? Youtube is already attempting to respond. That’s why they are offering “Youtube Red”. They’re missing out on a lot of money. What are they going to do when, inevitably, no one uses Youtube Red? All they can do, it seems, is code around the adblockers. Find out how they work, and get around them. And, of course, the adblockers will do the same thing. Back and forth, back and forth. It has been reported that Youtube is unprofitable, and it’s understandable why. It’s because of the adblockers, and because of the operating costs of the number of servers that they must have to keep Youtube what it is, etc. There are costs involved in creating a free platform where anyone can upload pretty much anything. Google bought Youtube, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they sell it. To Yahoo, maybe? Wouldn’t that be a shit video platform. How are they ultimately going to recoup money lost by adblockers? No doubt, they will attempt to keep coding around the coders attempting to code around them.

Clearly, the advertisers are paying for the “free and open” internet.

Once again, the fate of the internet is a very interesting thing indeed.

And the market will figure it out, as it always does, as long as we don’t give governments too much power.

“The Grasp”

Introduced in the youth,
As so many demons are;
Stripping away innocence;
Creating emotional scar after scar.

Creating anxieties
Through which no child should have to cope.
Destroying God’s gifts
In the name of creating hope.

How much better it would be
To leave the children alone,
And let the decades naturally flow by,
Marveling at how much they have grown…

But some children are destroyed
Before they even have a chance
By Biblical ideology
That destroys fun, happiness, and romance…

Some people were never born
With a fair shake.
Seemingly, due to the evil actions
Of one particularly devilish snake.

People are dying
Due to mankind’s corruption
;
While men preach of Hell’s inevitable
Horrific, destructive eruption…

There is no hope
In the minds of these men;
In their hearts, or their words,
Desperately lost in sin.

All they can do
Is destroy other’s lives
By consuming with fear
And deceiving with lies.

God bless those who never heard
The damned word of God.
Although it isn’t perfect,
They can probably enjoy each other’s bods.

The grasp seems to never let you go
Once it has hold.
Introduced into your youth,
With you, it grows old…

It doesn’t seem like
It will ever go away.
Regardless of what your Christian friends,
Or even Christ Himself, might say…

It becomes a part of your personality;
A part you most want to revile;
Saddening your heart,
Darkening your smile…

Despite the fact you know there’s more,
You can’t help but lament
At all the time you’ve wasted,
And the futile effort you spent.

There’s a reason you can’t really let go
Of the horrors of your youth.
They affect you for the rest of your life,
And that’s the horrible, sickening truth…

_________________________________________________________________

“The Grip”.

My poetry.

A Declaration of Independence

I’m a man that doesn’t like choice.

I’ve never liked independence.

Obviously, I’m still young. I haven’t had much experience with independence.

The youngest of the young don’t have many choices. This can be quite frustrating, even if that restriction is justified. And certainly, I had times during my youth (at least, younger than I am now) that I wished I had choices when I didn’t have any. But currently, I’m at that stage when I need to make a good many choices for myself, and these choices will effect me for, if I live this long, decades. And I must make these decisions with an immature mind (at least currently: hopefully, not perpetually).

So, no pressure.

There is a security in having others make decisions for you. If a mistake is made, you don’t feel responsible, and you can shift blame to the one who has “decided” for you. But there comes a point in everyone’s life when that doesn’t work anymore, and that time for me is pretty much right now. (Shit, it may have even been before this, but if it was, I was too goddamn stupid to realize it. So I’m off to a great start).

Besides just being a child, whom naturally finds comfort and security in trusted authority figures, another reason I found the authority of others so comforting was the fact that I was just goddamned bad at making decisions for myself. Not that any young teenager should be expected to be good at making decisions, but man, was I BAD. I’ve beaten myself up over that fact more than I can count. It’s not that I should expect that I should’ve been good at making decisions. But in the past, I felt like I should’ve been. I don’t have any idea how I could have been, but that was my expectation nonetheless. A very fairytale expectation. Impossible to satisfy.

But, nonetheless, many of my decisions in my childhood were horrible. The consequences, at least at the time, were almost unbearable. And I wondered how in the fuck I was ever going to make it when I grew up. I worried myself to death about “adulthood”, where people make decisions for themselves. I had no idea to do it. I was only thirteen. (And fourteen).

Knowing (mainly thanks to my parents) that some day, I was going to have to “take the reigns”, and weighing that upon my self-destructive decision-making ability, I spent many years in sheer terror of the future. I’m talking from when I was, like I said, maybe fourteen or so, til, I would say, almost now, I have been terrified of the future. “Every decision impacts your future.” Combine this attitude with the belief that certain thoughts and actions will send you to Hellfire for all eternity, and you can see why one would be frightened when it comes to making decisions for oneself. My self-confidence was destroyed by my own stupid decisions, the consequences I had to face, and, I would argue, my natural tendency towards anxiousness. So I deferred as much as possible towards the direction of my life, having teachers decide which classes I should take, letting others decide when I should get my driver’s license, etc.

And yet, there was still a fiercely independent streak in me. This independence was usually geared towards “higher” ideas. Ideas that, you could argue, “shape” society. I have always been extremely independent in “higher” ideas. It’s the “lower” ideas (the more “practical” ideas (the ones necessary for basic biological functioning)) that I have deferred for so long (the “important” ones, many would argue. And I couldn’t argue against that description).

The independence was usually “Wait a minute: this common belief does not make sense to me.” And that, happening frequently enough, caused me to question common beliefs, and helped shape my worldview. And it’s still present within me today. The independence has been channeled into “vulgarity” now, where I independently decide to question common views of “artistic morality“, and wish to push art further along the line of human depravity than anyone has ever gone before (well, probably not. But a guy can DREAM, can’t he?)

It is also very hard to be independent when you are young and socially anxious (it should really be no surprise why, but this is what I’m trying to work on, personally) because of other people.

I think the biggest hurdles regarding my inability to feel confident and independent enough as a thinker to make more and important decisions for myself are the following:

I’ve always naturally had an inclination to weigh my ideas off of others. My ideas were, I think, usually independent. But I wasn’t sure of their validity, so I bounced them off of others: even if those others were stupid or malicious. I had not the confidence to believe in myself and in my own independence. And that’s what this is really all about. It’s not that I’m dependent; or, rather, I am. I’m independent, but them I’m dependent on approval because I’m not confident enough to develop my independence through thought processes and continuances of logic trees and preferences.

When you “put yourself out there”, other people are going to respond. And the responses exist all over the spectrum: some are insightful, and some are stupid. Some are supportive, and some are not. And if you happen to have ideas that exist outside of the “norm” (whether they be truthful or not), they will be questioned relentlessly, as is the case by the very definition of being “outside of the norm”.

I’m not saying that ideas shouldn’t be subjected to scrutiny. But when, at a young age, you have very independent ideas, very diverse from those around you, and you begin to express those ideas, you have not the confidence to defend yourself, nor the time to fully-fledge out those delicate, crucial beginnings of a fruit of individual thought.

It’s hard being an individual thinker, and it’s probably just as dangerous as being part of a mob. Of course, there are correct “mobs” and incorrect individuals. But one can’t help but picture a Titanic, or a Jesus Christ, when referring to fiercely independent thinkers and “group thinkers”.

To say that there are exceptions to every rule, and that everyone is right and everyone is wrong from time to time, is redundant. Vague, obvious phrases like this are typically used to keep from hearing what the original speaker had to say. “Yeah, but”. In good-spirited discourse, there will obviously be a great many “but”s. But there should be some substance behind the “but”. Repeating a general truth just to be argumentative is unproductive. You need to say something that adds to the conversation, and repetitive phrases uttered for fear of not being a “good person” do not do that.

But, all-too-often, I would believe is the case, young, smart people are trampled upon by their all-knowing, “moralauthority figures. This isn’t to say that adults do not have a great amount of experience, and that this experience is not valuable to creating an insightful perspective of the world. Surely, years of experience on the Earth would help one achieve a higher grasp of reality (or at least, one would hope). However, from a personal standpoint, I think that I have uncritically accepted the advice of every do-gooder from every left, right, and other direction. And I think this has done me some mental harm that I will attempt to explain.

If I’m not a genius, and I’m just a fool, then at least I’m my own man. But I’d rather foolishly believe me a genius than fret over actual foolishness.

I believe that I have some very insightful things to say, especially considering my age. I understand that there are people in this world older than I who understand more than me; likewise, there are people younger than me who understand more than I. But I think I have something. I think there’s something in me that has important things to say. And even if only for my own sake as a human being, for my own volition, sanity, maturity, and peace, I must say them…

Although I’m certain in my heart that there are others out there who will find insight in my words…

But I do not wish to seek social approval. Financial approval is social approval, and of course, I wish to get paid. But beyond that, I wish not to seek social acceptance of my ideas as a validation for them (even money does not “validate” them for me).

Social approval is another sign of youth. I don’t need to explain this: you understand this already. But, for those of you that don’t, I’ll drop in the words “peer pressure”. A desire for a peaceful, cooperating community is not an immature idea, however. But that is not social approval.

“Approval” implies that one can be socially rejected. But why should anyone care about being socially rejected? One may argue that the murderer’s actions are justifiably socially rejected, but his actions are not unethical because they are rejected: they are rejected because they are unethical, and, thankfully, many people’s code of ethics, at least when it comes to murder, are in coexistence with humanity (this is not to say that humans can do nothing inhumane, but rather that, simply stated, their code of ethics promotes the existence and flourishing of humans, rather than destroying humans).

One needs the confidence to speak up for oneself, and one needs the maturity to be able to handle the consequences of speaking up for oneself. And those are two things that I greatly wish to develop and improve upon.

As well as becoming a better organizer of the written word, I hope to continue my fierce independence of thought and furious dictation (sometimes both meanings) with an improvement upon my ability to be independent, my ability to comprehend objectivity, and my ability to communicate.

But, being an introvert, my main concern for improving my communication ability is to improve my financial spending ability.

I want to learn how to string thoughts together better, and how to dissect my own thoughts better so that they are better understood by my readers.

I wish to fear not the critique of my readers, but rather to critically filter their critique, and apply and reject it where I feel necessary after careful reflection.

I have to decide when my work is good or not. I have to decide when my work is done or not. I have to decide when and what I am going to work on.

And I’m not confident enough in myself to feel like I’m making good decisions in this area yet…

…Plus, sometimes I think I’m crazy

I’m also afraid of succeeding.

I want to succeed, but I’m afraid of finally becoming successful.

Why?

Religious conditioning.

Because, you know, all of those rich and famous people are sinners, while the good, common country folk are RIGHTEOUS.

Oh, wasted youth.

But I digress.

I wish to be independent enough to think “I’m going to write all of this, using up valuable time in my life, and valuable energy, when I could be doing something else, because I find this important. I don’t want to hear other people tell me to do it because it’s important. And I don’t want to care about others who tell me I’m wasting my time, and that I should focus more on getting a better paying job, or something like that. I want to put more energy into my writing because I want to do it. I want to feel comfortable enough to not look for approval in this decision. I do not want to care who thinks me crazy; who thinks me young, and immature; and who thinks the cold hand of reality will smack my young, delicate face, and wake me up to the brutal cold.” I care not any longer.

I am really bad at all of this, but God damn do I wish to improve upon it…

I wish to be independent to a degree that I’m comfortable with. I wish to have the confidence to accept the consequences of my actions. I wish to improve upon my writing ability. I wish to learn to have enough self-confidence to reread and edit my work. I wish to have enough self-confidence in my own ethics that I do not feel the need to validate myself through other people. I wish to shed negative perspectives about life through religion that have enslaved me for most of my life. But, I think, most of all, I wish to really feel like I’m in control of my life; in control of myself; and to feel happy about that.

Those are the most crucial elements of ALL of this.

…And, of course, I wish to get paid…

This is also a message about conflict: I fiercely don’t care about what other people think about my work, but I do in the sense that I wish to get paid. But I don’t want to create work simply because I know it will sell well. But I still want it to sell.

These conflicts are just at the crux of life, I guess.

I think time has the answer to those questions in particular for me, though.

…But God damn those bumps of shitty writing along the road!!!