Complete the Bare Bones Skeleton

 Sometimes when I sit down and intend to write, I spend a good ten minutes or so doing nothing but yelling at myself for not being able to produce anything, stuck in a weird self-hate cycle. Like “No, you have nothing to say. Why are you even trying to write anyhow? You must be one of the most boring people out there, and definitely too boring to write anything worth reading.” Perhaps it should bring some peace of mind that I still hold the title as the undisputed champion of being able to criticize me. Others try to put me down at times, but they are just no match for the kind of brutality I can do to myself without any help whatsoever.

 I'm in the middle of completing a draft of a short story. Last week the idea just came to me and I threw down a good 2k words before I called it a day. Now I'm beginning to regret stopping at all as it's not been easy to pick it back up. Perhaps this is part of my issue with completing any of my works. I have hundreds upon hundreds of song ideas and story ideas, all unfinished, and I never seem to be able to bring myself to work on them, instead opting for getting into new stuff. I'm going to use this insight and try next time to just work from beginning to end in one sitting, like with a short story. If I can at least push through and build the shell of something with potential I feel a good chunk of my job will be already complete. I don't foresee myself being able to finalize anything in one sitting, though I really should at least complete the bare bones skeleton when I'm finally inspired to push something through.

 I'm psyching myself into writing more and perhaps actually completing this draft by the end of today, reminding myself that if there's some hesitation at any point that I can fix it later, just make a note. This stuff is work, no doubt about it, but it's work that I am compelled to do. There definitely is joy in the creative process, more so than the relief one feels when their work is finalized. After it's done, really it's just time to move on to the next work/project. I've gotten stuck at times going back over and over rereading and re listening to my works and feel like it's negatively impacted my push forward. Each creative person works differently and I think it's up to all of us to figure out what works best for us specifically and not just try to conform to something that only seems to work for others. For me it seems that I should just write from beginning to end, sit on it briefly, then look back and fix what needs to be fixed from beginning to end, then give it one more go before giving it to someone in the editing role. There's certain things in English grammar that I struggle with, the little things like accidentally writing in both past and present tense inconsistently, like “They walked and then saw the man. The man is really tall, and they are now speaking to him, looking up trying to meet his gaze while they were walking.” That sort of thing is really tedious and difficult for me to fix, extremely draining and it discourages me from building up my motivation or enthusiasm to continue.

 Expectations are a big one too. I want my works to be amazing, and after I write I'm almost always amazed in some ways. Then after the initial glow wears out, the critic enters and berates me. All the enthusiasm starts dying out, the positive energy sapped up by the critic and while I'm given all these things to work with I feel too terrible and inept to continue. Perhaps I'd benefit greatly from someone who could cheer me on when I'm having moments of self-doubt, and someone who could help fix the stuff that doesn't work whom I can fully trust their sound judgment.

 Writing entries like this at least help push me to try things and actually get my fingers on the keyboard, typing away and making something, anything. The habit begins to form again and it'll compel me to push forward with writing and completing projects. I'm not currently in an environment that fosters much creative work and so besides connecting with other actively creative people out there, this seems to be the best way that works for me to get motivated when I desperately want to work.

Source: http://chasingcheerios.blogspot.com/2012/09/studying-human-skeleton.html

The Author in My Life

A lot has happened and also nothing has happened lately. Beyond frustrated trying to actually do something, anything right about now. Is the anxiety making me hesitant or is the laziness making me anxious? The fear of failure has never been stronger and it feels like any chance I do take is likely to be a complete disaster, no matter how much effort I put into it.

Despite books, years upon years of wisdom, this nonsense won't seem to quit. It's like a bug in the software that never seems to be cleaned out. An exercise I've not done in forever, it's something that I don't even remember how to do. That, and it's painfully obvious to me how subpar the stuff I've done is in contrast to what's out there. You can't get good unless you're failing and trying stuff out a bunch but I'm so sick of the mediocrity. The lack of free time, true free time, is also a factor. And when I do have the free time I squander it all away on nonsense like staring at the fucking wall for hours at a time, thinking to myself "Seriously? What the hell is wrong with me?"

I'm putting a lot of unnecessary pressure and judgment on myself despite all my attempts and being vulnerable. The day job has been killing me in more ways than one. It's like this slow, deadly fungus that eats away at you gradually and over time it just gets progressively worse, so bad that you constantly feel like you've already crossed the event horizon with no real way back. The race is still happening and I'm closer to the starting line than I am at the finish, which is where pretty much everyone else is at. "Don't compare yourself to others," I get it, I get it. What happened to my priorities? When did appeasing others take precedent in my life when I used to create and put works out assertively? Did I just stop realizing how important it is? Or did the awareness of all the other stuff humble me so heavily into the point of discouragement, as if to say "You guys all already have this, there's no need for me to put myself out there."

Before the internet we collectively all found it easy to put ourselves out there. We weren't painfully aware of all the shovelware, the stuff being made that has essentially no perceived value. Years ago even shovelware shined. The classics now unfortunately only matter superficially, like sentimental little anecdotes that barely rise above the noise for more than a few fleeting moments. Temporary novelty. None of these are excuses, however being painfully aware of what's working against you is something that hurts more than it helps.

Perhaps anyone successful can be looked at as a complete idiot in some respects. The fool, so careless in their ways, seems to be the one that tends to be in the spotlight. They ask and they receive. Common wisdom is to rely on one's self and not be a burden, however almost all of those out there asking and receiving seem to be actually living their lives instead of being shackled down to the personal prisons. I feel stuck on this flat ledge, too afraid to climb to the next to change my situation because I tell myself that it's not worth the risk, to potentially threaten my survival. My inability to discern between the "necessary leaps of faith" and the "moments of petty gamble and luxury" is something that holds me back from escaping from my cell.

I've been conditioned to be convenient to the environment around me, at the cost of my individuality. The carrot dangles on the string in front of me. Always there to remind me of the hope of a fulfilling future that never seems to happen. I bring my attention to the present moment as often as possible and yet I can't seem to connect to what it is I really need to be doing anymore.

Perhaps it's that my hyper awareness has brought me to the point of emotional paralysis, in that I'm playing the role everyone wants me to play and I'm being rewarded in that there's little to no conflict in my life. Would a trust fund of immeasurable wealth be something that helps or hampers my overall life satisfaction and self-defined purpose? I'm redefining what it is that I want most in life. Having grand amounts of wealth has been one of those things that I don't really see happening any time soon, and part of me feels that it's not what I'm really after anyhow.

The cessation of my current career path IS something I deeply wish could happen. While no job is truly secure, my current one unarguably is stable in that it provides real, proven consistency in pay and expectations. It brings comfort in that my financial obligations are (mostly) taken care of, which includes the requirements for my children not to feel like they're living in poverty, and that I'm not necessarily any sort of financial burden on their mother. But despite the current situation "working" in some ways, I also feel like there are no real moments I feel fulfilled, like all the hopes and wishes I have, as meager as they are, are never going to happen. The things that motivate me most in life seem to be vanishing leaving only the melancholy and apathy in it's place. A machine producing enough to meet the minimum requirements to serve it's purpose.

It's the real part of adulthood that always worried me growing up. While I had lots of friends as a kid, as I get older I'm getting scared of losing them all and never actually being able to connect anymore. Social media, that double edged sword, has eaten what little hope I have left and I've become a slave to the brief, cocaine-high I feel each time I have these little interactions online, missing out on the whole real life experience I used to crave and to an extent still do. Social media solved problems but created so many new unforeseen ones. I'm not happy at all. I don't feel connected. My art hasn't been happening for so long that no one really acknowledges I ever was that person, let alone being that person today. I'm riding with the facade of those dreams of the past that only now appear in snapshots.

Perhaps it's time I make a huge stand in my life. I reevaluate my priorities and make the hard decisions I've been putting off on forever. If I want things to be different I need to swim upstream a bit and take all the beatings that comes with doing that. What I need is discomfort, to destroy and to put back together the "me" that I've been lately. I'm so fucking sick of being the sucker, the one people speak nicely of until I stop doing and being who they want me to be. I need to passionately assert myself in the face of opposition because who I really am will never make everyone happy and I need to be okay with that.

If I really want to be the author in my life, I need to start writing again. 

Obligated

I overthink. It's difficult for me these days to go into situations without having the blue prints ahead of time. This is why I stopped writing for awhile. The anxiety became barely manageable and so to cope I removed myself from as many responsibilities as I could. Leisure and socializing took the brunt of the downsizing because I have children and I convinced myself (erroneously) that being a parent is being a slave, and even then I still don't feel like I'm doing enough for them. It's anxiety again, in this case it's a fear that I'm not up to par with the parenting standards of 2016 and so everyone will hold it against me, including my kids when they are older.

See, there I go overthinking again. The kids and I love each other and are met with presence and all the necessities, so feeling like this has more to do with me than anything else. All the while I feel shame when I'm free just one evening to create and work on projects for myself.

Perhaps I should start seeing my wants/needs as valid rather than purely selfish in the eyes of those around me. I miss my days and nights of sitting there writing and coming up with all sorts of creative ideas. Performances were something I looked forward to beyond anything else, along with consistently being in the company of good people. Creative environments are where I thrive and for the most part that's where I used to be.

On the same token, I fear others wanting to control me. I started my own project to have absolute control over my means of expression. Being in a band and collaborating was usually a pleasant experience, though in terms of personal expression it was difficult due to all the hard compromises. Again, it's fine but it's not something I feel fulfills who I actually am. I've been faced with self criticism with not allowing others to collaborate with me and doing almost everything myself, and yet deep down I feel it's really the only way, and know it in my heart to be true. Tons of great musicians work alone, so why am the selfish one? Books are usually authored by one person. My fear of being coerced into collaborating is a huge factor in why I stopped playing. Over the years this fear has not diminished one bit, and if anything I've become even more protective over my personal expression. I've let others know this subtly and obviously yet it never seems to register. To be clear, I like collaborating though it needs to be secondary to my personal stuff and can't bleed over.

Others: "Let me write with you!"
Me: *tries hiding panic attack* "Yeah soon maybe."

It's become apparent to me that I have issues communicating. In social situations, people tend to see me as very approachable, an extrovert, and don't believe me if I try to explain that I actually need to be by myself often. I cherish social situations, especially shows and performances, and yet I also require lots of "me time," which I struggle asking for. My current day job eats up more hours than any of my prior ones ever could, even without overtime, and with what little free time I have I feel obligated to make sure no one else needs me first before I take time to myself. I feel like like time to myself is more of a luxury than a healthy requirement to life.

A good portion of my life was spent wandering aimlessly through minefields. After enough mines detonate you learn to perfect the art of tip-towing quietly. I've not run or even walked in quite awhile even though the hidden mines are so few these days. I'm an adult so I really have no one else to answer to. I own my home. My day job is tedious and I'm forced to behave, though outside of that my life belongs to me again. Old habits die hard. I'm still overly concerned with the well-being of others and fear stepping on their toes doing the things that I actually want to do. Jealousy comes into play more often than I'd like to admit in that I feel envious of those out there able to go places and work on things that I want to work on. Not specific things, just the type of things that I could be doing right now. I hear music produced by teenagers these days that make my old stuff sound completely pathetic. More pathetic is the fact that I know I'm capable of quite a bit of greatness if I'm allowed to be.

Allowed to be.

In my mind the critic still reigns king. My desire for escapism keeps me in my head all day where everything I do is amazing and all my dreams come true, but it's no replacement for the real thing. The real thing on most days feels like I'm asking too much and I don't want anyone mad at me. It's driven me to the point of full blown neurosis bordering on the psychotic.

It may be that I'm imagining more mines than there actually are out there. I feel judged constantly and when others aren't doing it, I'm doing it to myself. Even simple jokes and ribbing hurt like the real thing, though I have to pretend that I can "take a few punches." Extreme sensitivity while maintaining the facade of pretending to have it all together. I've yearned for others to just simply be present with me and usually all I get are people trying to "fix" me, which always ALWAYS comes across as condescending and patronizing, like I'm a 5 year old.

I'm not looking for people to fix me, I'm looking for people to hear me.

When I'm present with others and they confide in me, their venting, I actually get a good feeling. Conversely I'm bothered when someone assumes they know more than me when they clearly don't have any idea, and it's an insult to my intelligence. I have to tell myself that they mean to do well while it's obvious to me (perhaps not to them) that they just want to have control over me. But I constantly feel obligated to placate their egos, obligated to make sure others are okay with me, obligated to work for others until my fingers and have nothing to show for it, obligated to accept mediocrity and my life of servitude, obligated to destroy all my dreams and stay blind to the wishing stars.

Obligated to not be me.

Memories and Imaginative Futures

I'm trying to figure out where I was last year, because I can guarantee it wasn't Earth, and definitely wasn't in the Present Moment. It's felt like a bizarre theme park ride that goes back and forth between Memories and Imaginative Futures, and does it fast and jarring. The ride went on way too long and I was done with it pretty early on. Unfortunately I had to wait it out because the other option wouldn't have ended well.

Right now I'm here, and I'm still a bit woozy. While I know I traveled, there's only partial recollection of the events, which makes it seem like most of it was just too much, and a majority of it a waste of time. What good is a good time if you can't remember it? Or a lesson in which one doesn't retain the wisdom from? I bit off more than I could chew.

My fears compelled me towards flight. The Present Moment, while seemingly benign, seemed like it was wrought with the potential for mortal danger. Then again, isn't simply being alive a threat to survival? In my search for peace and the cessation of pain, I subconsciously willed myself into various environments of isolation. Empathy is felt with those who flee the fast-paced life of inner-cities. Perhaps not literally, rather the desire to escape. Isolation was not necessarily unhealthy until it became the only thing there was.

However I feel that I've taken a few lessons from it, and others may soon be realized, one of which is prominent at the moment. Pain is important. The bad guys exist and one needs to accept that. Nature is about struggle. Rights have to be fought for and consistent, regular upkeep is required. Seclusion is good, if not absolutely necessary at times when times get tough. When the recuperation is complete then we have to return to the world again.

Writing is much more than composing words or melodies. It's an action that brings one's personal realizations to life. It is those incantations that truly have power in the here and now. Often I forget that writing gives me the ability to take on the situations at hand. The comedian invites us to join in on removing energy from the negativity.

When I compose I become the architect that builds within this world the places I've found in others. Life is about discoveries, and sharing the discoveries. I'm inspired to design and update the flag that represents who I am and hang it in my front yard. I'm both part of this world and part of other worlds. As with all of us, my rich heritage needs to be expressed.

All experiments need a control. Events require perspective and context. Memories and Imaginative Futures are as necessary as the Present Moment, and are meaningless without it.

(Soviet Modernism) The Georgian Ministry of Highway Construction in Tbilisi, Georgia. Built in 1975.

I'm Doing It

There have been a few things going on behind the scenes. One of which is the resurgence of the band with a modified name. After over a decade, it was decided that Med Downline feels better. Medicant Downline will still live on as a legacy name and can technically still be used interchangeably, however moving forward the project will officially be using the new one. Change is stress and stress isn’t always a bad thing.

                Newer music has been in the works for far too long. I’ve writing demos upon demos of ideas that have been floating around since Test Subject, and I’ve even been incorporating riffs and keyboard lines from the 90’s when I was still using a 4-track cassette recorder and MIDI files played through my Roland XP-10 keyboard. I’ve become more honest with myself about what I feel that I should be writing and performing in accordance with who I really am and what I’m about. My art is definitely not for everyone so I’ve resolved to just keep on doing what I do and ignore anyone else who may not be interested. As an artist you tend to struggle with the balance between producing widely acceptable, attractive works and producing specific, unique expressive works. If you go too much one way you’re just selling out and it feels soulless, too commercial and impersonal, and then if you go too much the other way you’re pretty much making stuff that only you and a few die-hard fans who justify your bad decisions.

                I’ve found out who I really am and have (mostly) accepted it. My hesitation in completing and publishing has everything to do with holding myself back out of fear of non-acceptance. I really don’t want to waste my time on something that isn’t in some ways at least objectively good. We all have our tastes and opinions, which is fine and I accept that now, though I feel like I’m capable of producing work that one could at least look at and agree that, although not particularly their ‘thing’, can still be considered ‘well done.’

The new works also have to sound undeniably professional in all aspects, which involve benchmarks on the actual sound mixing quality, the quality of the subject audio recordings, and the overall variety of songs while still retaining a sort of similar identity without using tired clichés. This will not require an unattainable budget, more modest in terms of what has been spent normally on independent projects. It may require the assistance of multiple talents in which will help to insure all benchmarks are met even if I myself am not fully capable in all aspects of the process, as well as generally having a more objective perspective on the material at hand. While I try hard to stay focused and motivated, I must honestly admit that it may be necessary for others to make sure the ball keeps rolling when it seems like it’s slowing down again. Conditions must be right, or made right, in order to allow the project to come to an eventual completion.

My goal right now is to have something to hold in my hands before the end of the year.  It’s feasible to have something by the end of the summer. If I keep a relatively consistent schedule of working on the project then there’s every reason for this to become a reality. While my life in the past decade has become chock full of responsibilities I also acknowledge that much of it is unnecessary. I’ve wasted a lot of time playing out too much in my head, multiple upon multiple scenarios, and as a result I have nothing to show for it. Instead of taking chances I’ve played it safe and secure.  I did gain a lot of perspective and way too much inspiration to deal with.

Perhaps a lot of this was necessary to give me the right mindset in life. Artists come in all shapes and sizes and produce works for various reasons. As opposed to before, I feel like I’m now better equipped to create for all the right ones. One has to ask “What am I getting from this?” and I feel like I have a good idea what’s in it for me, and it’s on the healthier side of things.

In the upcoming weeks I plan to complete a few new songs ready for live performance and for final production. I’m confident in the direction I’m going and will be holding myself true to the concept of these works. No more blind acceptance of the Naysayer’s opinion or that in which my irrational insecurities try to have me believe in.

I know exactly what I like and I’m doing it.

Restart the Engine

It's safe to say that as a musician I've been on hiatus for just about a decade. Sure there were shows here and there, and the actual album produced in 2004 wasn't actually released until around 2010 due to various reasons, however I haven't felt like I've been productive for a long time now.

 

That's changing this year. I'm back.

 

Throughout these past years I've faced numerous obstacles in which, at the time, I didn't realize were hindering me. I crafted stories and excuses around what was happening, fooling myself into believing that everything would eventually just get better on its own. I entered the corporate life with menial cubicle slave jobs, telling myself that this was the responsible choice and it was "easy money." The costs/consequences were downplayed because I assumed that I could handle it. I then started a family with children, got a house, and tried "being a grown up." All the while I still maintained a belief that I'd soon be back in the music scene once the circumstances allowed it.

 

Years later everything began falling apart. The marriage ended in divorce only weeks after my father took his own life, and then I got canned from my first corporate day job. After being unemployed for a while and depleting every penny of savings I had accumulated over 6 years, I got another slave position that brought me back to the bottom of the pay scale again. It was degrading to say the least, and it wasn't enough. I maxed out every credit card as a temporary band aid to pay all my bills, and it obviously wasn't a sustainable way of life. I had a pension, which these days are a mythical creature in itself, and sure enough raided it as yet another ditch effort to stay afloat.

 

Throughout this whole thing, social media became more popular than ever. While Myspace began for me as a tool to help connect to fans, I ended up getting caught up in its popularity contest aspect. When Facebook then came around it got even worse. Without realizing it, I replaced my more wholesome means of creative expression (i.e. Blog Writing, Music, Graphic Design, etc.) with short, one or two sentence status updates and unrelenting link sharing. While it did feel great to reconnect with old friends, as a whole I was finding me getting more lost than fulfilled. Social media is an absolutely stunning and amazing technology, and with it can come the dangerous side of a double-edged sword. At least for me it did.

 

No one ever told me, or rather I was lead to believe otherwise, that severe depression is not only real but also something that gets progressively worse if it goes untreated. Right around the time all the garbage started hitting the fan in my life, I took a chance and began seeing a therapist. At the time I just assumed that perhaps it would help somewhat to utilize a few free visits provided by my health insurance. It couldn't hurt to be a little open minded, right? It was there that I was finally able to begin seeing the walls I had constructed, and was continuing to build, throughout my adult years. I assumed that my anxiety and depression had gotten unbearable because I was "being a whiny baby," but what I learned was that the opposite was the case. Any time I questioned my own wellbeing I'd be extremely dismissive, which others in my social circle would back me up on.

 

"You don't even have a good REASON to be depressed, so get over it!" "You just want attention!" "This is just another excuse!"

 

When I opened the floodgates to my inner turmoil, I nearly drowned in it. I felt still too far away to reach for help, and even if there was some available I was too scared to ask someone else to take time out of their life to lend a hand, mostly because I loathed the idea of being a burden to others as it seemed to be extremely selfish to me. It's sad to say but I could imagine a scenario in which if I were drowning at a beach I'd probably not even call out to the lifeguards because I wouldn't have wanted to bother them. Yes, their job is to save lives and I still felt like I'd have been wasting their time saving mine.

 

Another thing that I wasn't told was that when you open up about this stuff and begin to actively acknowledge and work on it, the war has officially begun. Political tensions are one thing, but when the actual fighting commences is when the death toll actually rises. On most occasions I was forced to retreat and cut my losses. Bills were going unpaid and the harassment was getting worse. My day job work environment was extremely toxic. I even doubted my ability to be an adequate musician in this world.

 

I stopped listening to almost all music for the first time since childhood, partly because I felt so inferior, partly because of a jealousy that boiled over into a seething rage, and partly because I was craving silence. Years went by as I would drive in my car with nothing but the sound of wind blowing. This was something I never talked to anyone about because it seemed too embarrassing to convey. I was told that I'd enjoy this song or that band but I could never bring myself to listen. Streaming Video services like Netflix and Hulu were available as a great alternative to cable, which I had cancelled because of a lack of interest, only to find that I was now adding movies and shows to queues that I would never actually get to. Still haven't!

 

While I remember daydreaming intermittently throughout the course of my childhood and teen years, I had now found myself spending all of my free time sitting silently in empty rooms, no music, no videos, for hours on end. I really wish I was making this up as this is something I find extremely confusing, embarrassing, lazy, wasteful, and bizarre. What did this say about me as a person? I knew I was a bit strange my whole life, though at least I knew how to get along with most people if I choose to. I used to crave parties, and really I still do, and yet I was finding myself opting instead to stay home making every excuse in the book.

 

I told myself that perhaps I'd get going on one of my projects that I was procrastinating on, only to become immediately distracted. Facebook had been a great source for reaching out and connecting to others, but it had become a vice for me. In itself it's a great technology that can be used for so much good, which is what I told myself that I was using it for, yet instead I was just going for cheap thrills. They were the quick, unrelenting stimuli with a growing, unsatisfied craving for more and more. My blogging/journal writing would only be visited once every few months as opposed to daily, if not at least weekly, in which I just wrote off as being an antiquated practice, whereas short status messages and witty Twitter musings were my new bread and butter. I didn't have time, I told myself, to write long entries, nor did it seem necessary for my means of expression as no one seemed to even want to read blogs anymore. (Or at least I stopped reading them and projected this on to others.)

 

Throughout this time I technically kept myself busy by writing, producing, and publishing slightly experimental instrumental albums. I recreated Test Subject as an authentic retro video game chip tune album that ended up selling about ten times more than the original album that took over a year to self-produce. With that I decided to publish a second chip tune album, this time with all original songs and also received notable praise. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing that I felt deep down expressed what I'd really wanted to put out, though it was at least a start. In 2014 I took it upon myself then to produce an album consisting of 50 songs, all under a minute in length, all done exclusively in one application on my iPhone during breaks and lunches at my day job. It was an experiment in the concept of writing in general as well as an action in a step towards getting back to my serious electro-rock band writing. At this point the band was lucky if we performed two shows a year, so this was like a small, lit candle in a very large and dark room.

 

It was in 2014 while producing the Micro Song Collection that I finally began to change in the right direction and was climbing out of this hole I was in. For years I hadn't realized how much more reactive I had become rather than proactive. I acted as if I needed permission from others to be who I am and do what I do. This wasn't always the case as my first album was pretty much a "fuck you" to everyone who said that my desire to make art was a worthless hobby, a bad obsession. Test Subject was a pun in itself in that it was meant to be an experiment to demonstrate that I am a capable, independent artist. Sure it was rough as hell; I had almost no experience or technical knowledge. While I connected socially with a few musicians, I pretty much figured everything out on my own through trial and error, and it was my drive to wave that flag of independence that got it produced and published. Not one day goes by that I don't see each and every flaw in its production; though over time I let it define me negatively instead of positively. It is now that I can fully recognize it for what it is and allow it to simply be, and to not let its flaws define me as a capable musician.

 

It may seem petty or silly, though it was in 2014 that I began to stand my ground with my points of view during controversy. I was berated and yelled at; though this time I allowed the truth to motivate me. I argued with others on social media and posted very specific stances on issues that I'm passionate about, knowing very well that there are those that disagree with me. I told myself to actively do this in order to prove to myself that my opinions matter and to stop compromising on who I am, with the caveat that if I learn that I'm wrong about something that I'd have to agree to change my ways and to not take it personally. I feel as if over the years I subconsciously took the easy path of not making waves in order to avoid conflict because the stress in my life was way more than I could handle. Now I know better. If someone wants to gloat about being right about something I was wrong about, then that's their business, I really don't care anymore. In fact, the fear of being wrong is one of the big factors in which contributed to my insecurities because I just couldn't take the poor sportsmanship of others, who'd relentlessly be triumphant in their righteous indignations.

 

"See, I was right!"

"So what? You're a fuck face and that negates the good you do for being correct!"

 

So this is where I restart the engine. I'm writing again and have big plans. Big plans that I'm acting on, that is. I'm greatly reducing my use of social media and instead focusing my efforts on my art and performances. I'm done being just useful for others to use. I'm excited. I'm a bit scared. I'm more focused. I'm determined.

 

I'm back.

Break a Plate

Cheers to being oversensitive to conflict and negativity.

"You're so sensitive..."

http://gloomies.com/2007/04/youre-so-sensitive/

 

When you've accidentally done something wrong, like break a plate or forgot a prior engagement, you feel bad about it. Guilt is the word we attribute that to, which is something temporary and specific to a situation. It's healthy in that it helps us to stop making the same mistake, to learn from it. With severe depression however that negative feeling occurs either when something triggers it or even just out of nowhere. It's called shame, unjustified usually, which is where you feel that you're a bad person even if you've done nothing wrong. Your mind tries to come up with 'reasons' why you feel this way, stories you tell yourself so that there seems to be a feeling of control.

 

When someone's ill, it's normal for them to stay home from work or school, perhaps also visit the doctor. With severe depression however, being ill is chronic and you tend to still engage in normal responsibilities, no matter how difficult it is to cope, because it doesn't appear to be a physical ailment. Unfortunately today, the general public not only doesn't accommodate for the condition but they also dismiss its legitimacy as a disease. No matter how many times you explain it, even provide documented resources, efforts seem futile. This ignorance, misperception, makes performing day to day responsibilities even more difficult, and saying, "It's frustrating!" is an understatement.

 

These events tend to be frequent and over time can be detrimental to one's self-esteem and personality. Anxious. Over cautious. Feeling less-than, belittled. Whereas most people attribute the bad feelings to external causes, (reasons) severe depression makes you feel like shame is inevitable because you're "somehow just a bad person," despite any your actions/reactions.

While it's no easy thing to live with, the one thing that would make it less painful is for others to understand and be, if not somewhat sensitive, at least respectful. There will always be stubborn people who stay ignorant, making every excuse as to why only old ideas are valid and new ideas are nonsense, however if the general consensus brings themselves to take mental health issues seriously then the treatment and overall wellbeing for those who suffer would be much better.

Astronaut

I fell in again.

The grey clouds speak in monotone, reflecting the environment of my inner space. Silhouettes of churches a other structures provide contrast between the soft omnipresent glow. The cars move past unaffected and driven with purpose while I remain here stationary. Watching. Not moving.

The cold winter air reminds me that outside is a void of life and that I'm basically an astronaut every time I go out there. An emptiness like the surface of the moon. The only thing that preserves me is the suit I wear to accommodate these conditions. Without it I'm as lifeless as the icy surfaces I tread on.

Times like this I have to force myself to remember the spring time. This is all temporary and I'm on vacation in this dead world. To keep myself alive and hopeful I have the memorabilia for the other world.

Consume it and remember. I'll find my way back.

Pebble in the Ocean

My engine doesn't seem like it was ever designed to handle the programming load that's been put upon it. In a small secluded life, a tiny fishbowl, I'm sure I'd have been in bliss. The ignorance of the outside world would have kept me going in the same fashion full of unwavering positive energy. Instead the glass broke and here I am flapping about in disbelief at the true size of the universe.

The knowledge of my abundance of options seems to be limiting my potential happiness. Paralyzed by fear of making even more bad decisions and living with even more regret, I struggle to choose what path I should continue down. My real, true desire my whole life it seems is to possess the legendary "fuck you" money. I can sit there and rationalize why it's not important, or make excuses why it's not really what I'm after, but truth be told it is the ONLY thing that seems to make sense. Trust me, I'd find happiness as soon as I had been released from the obligatory control of my corporate masters and debtors.

Some people place different dollar values on what their definition is, and I think mine is pretty modest in contrast to the reality of what a lot of people actually have. This isn't a laziness thing either, it's almost exclusively about control and my issues with direct authority. The manager. The bank. The credit card companies. With the money that I desire, I would never have to live in fear as I do now. This fear is one I once foolishly believed would cease when I graduated from high school.

My work life is dehumanizing. I'm aware it sounds cliche. For me it seems to affect me more than other people though. I'm penalized in life for having this personality of mine. If it were something as simple as, "Just learn how to accept micromanagement and authority," I wouldn't even be talking about it right now. This whole thing goes back to the beginning of my life. The things that people have done to me and believed I was have caused me to live with perpetual shame and depression.

There have been so many incidents where I've been looked at as a failure and inept when the truth is the opposite. Even now I still fall victim to it. Unfortunately these are the ones now that hold my future in their hands so there is reason for me to keep my mouth shut and not fight back or defend myself. A personality that wants to boss/bully others around will not deal well with being told they're wrong and having it proven to them. Instead it'll just become personal and they will stop at nothing to find a reason to destroy that person. I don't want to be that person, so the lesser of the two evils is for me to instead nod and smile.

I need "fuck you" money like I need air to breath.

The Limit

I guess that I feel limited at times when I see the darkness inside my mind. I'm stuck there and it seems impossible to escape. The sky is up above and I still can't seem to jump more than a foot or so in the air.

If I knew how to swim up the streams of air, or possessed a large sum of money to invest in a technology that would allow upward movement is be fine, though unfortunately I have neither of these at the moment. What I have are a few faded glow-in-the-dark scribblings on the pitch black walls in my head which express trite motivational expressions. I've yet to see the truth in them, yet I've still not given up hope.

Through the narrow port hole I can still see with one eye the clouds move through the blue ocean above. I'm inspired to solve the puzzle of the trap I'm stuck inside. After all, what else is there to do aside from giving up?

I'm using my dreams to fuel the torch that allows me to search for the answer.

If I Were You

I am still catching myself trying to live up to an ideal that others made for me, projected on me. Most people throughout my life have seemed to interact with me inly if I comply with their image of who they think I am or should be. Outside of that, I'm just being a jerk or an idiot apparently.

Granted, I do tend to connect with certain people a whole lot more than others based on their personalities, however most of the time I'm cool with just about anyone regardless of our differences. Politics, religion, morals, interests, etc. I try damn hard to meet everyone at the middle ground, where I'm able to truly see others as the physical expressions of energy in the universe, beings of light, rather than volumes of rules and dogma.

Here I am though, caught in that pesky trap where I try to be altruistic and humble yet here I am preaching a specific way of life. I suppose realizing and observing this is the one thing I should be doing. Too much thinking, not enough doing, observing, and experiencing these moments.

Blackened Wings

So my life just gets more and more interesting with each passing second. No amount of fiction could ever compare to truth. We know it's there and we can prove it, however we can never actually see or hear it. But I can feel it! So dark it leaves me pale and of shallow breath.

The pumps and pipes frozen within an infinite second.

I can feel its gaze upon my guilt, together in a fresh baked room, bathed with its absence of light. If he had a face his eyes would be solid and black, unmoving, focused. And what bothers me more is that he'd be smiling. Such an awful grin.

My shadow. He hides in others but now I feel when I stare into the mirror, those eyes aren't my own.

What if the mouse knew the cheddar trap, and yet continued to fall victim to it? I'm hoping she wouldn't be able to control herself. Because if she can, I'll never allow myself to feel that any of our progress will ever matter. I want to believe that our programming can be halted and overwritten.

But alas! Here I am yet another lonely night in the Brave New World we all wanted and paid for after our parents finally kicked the bucket. Then my shame arrived. Was there ever supposed to be a cap to the madness, the plateau of progress, the highest reaches of success? What was our endgame? I've cheated the system, or so I thought?

And so I'm left with this. The muffled, faint chatter and laughter behind me still warm inside where the party continues unmoved. The cold air rushes upwards from the side of the building and I'll feel it lift me up and tense me up, making the current environment uninhabitable. Was it ever really a healthy place to see?

I wait on the bench amongst the fallen angels, their blackened wings covering my tears.

And oh do they flow. So very freely they flow...

Better

Generally things can be going good and even though you still feel like the achieving of life's goals are on hiatus, that's just fine. Good things have been happening to me lately. Perhaps it's not that, it could be that actually the bad stuff finally ceased. Perhaps none of the above statements are true and I'm just now feeling comfortable despite my situation.

If I think about it, I now have a new day job where I'm required to sit in traffic all day to get to and from the site. There is no apprehension or resentment, just 100% natural acceptance.

My money has been low and dwindling and yet I'm not panicking.

I know very clearly that outside of my obligations I have plenty to keep me occupied. Most of the time I'll find myself in the presence with others that care about me. My subconscious mind is now beginning to conceptualize this fact so the rest of me is feeling it. It just took a bit of reprogramming.

There's always something to look forward to these days as well. Events appear so numerous that I'm able to choose which I want to attend, the ones that fit in with me. No desperation! I look forward to performing and am getting back into the swing of it too. Oh how I missed the days of playing gigs and having a blast!

Ever since the tumor was removed, my life has gotten much better. Much MUCH better.

Down The Hall

It's not every day, but some days I still get this way. It's most likely weather and chemical issues. The curse of the first world problems. When provided with every toy imaginable, can life still seem uninspired and lacking meaning? My assumption, based on my years of experience with this sort of problem, is that these feelings are not circumstantial aside from perhaps neglect on my part to be more vigilant in my battle against the rain clouds. If I feel guilt I'll just be adding fuel to the fire.

So I'd rather just put it out there in the open to get a clear shot of it with my stun gun. It's best I distance myself from it before it tries to consume me. The lure is so tempting and I'd be a fool to not acknowledge that. Comfort in my own home away from the world where I am the ruler, the god. My megalomaniacal tendencies would be satisfied if I'd have the opportunity to mope around the house a bit, and perpetuate my delusions of grandeur in a world of unchecked behaviors. Even just to sit in my own car parked, alone, drifting off into an ambient musical void through my earbuds. I could park in the shade, and then even the sunlight wouldn't be permitted inside.

At the back of the bus. Silently observing. Not participating.

These are the feelings I get and I'm very aware of them now. For so many years I had erroneously believed that one day I'd bring resolution to the grand problem in my life, the happy ending, in which my emotional disturbances would cease to exist and never return. Now I know better. The darkness will forever remain inside and it's up to me to take care of it and not let it take care of me. I'm optimistic though because unlike before, I now have it in a cage. I'll take it for the occasional walk to get some fresh air, though I make sure to return it to it's place. And I always have to consistently let it know who's alpha in the relationship. The years prior had been detrimental because I let it walk all over me, so now it's my job to recondition the darkness.

I still need the darkness. I just don't need the darkness running my life.

Most of the time I'll actually be having quite a pleasant time, and I'll find myself struggling with it only on the rarest of occasions. As long as I know and accept that this is a natural part of my life I'll be good.

Down the hall, it'll always remain.

So What? Simple.

Since this is now officially my personal blog treated as a journal/diary, I shall have to begin laying it all on hard. I need this more that you need to read this.

The Autumn of 2011 brought me some interesting challenges. Fuck it... I was a victim of some horrible karma of some kind. My chimney was rebuilt, my basement was flooded and rendered uninhabitable, my father killed himself, my wife told me she hasn't loved me for years and has been living a lie which led up to divorce, I discovered what credit card debt looks like, my work production has failed, and finally, to bring in the new year, I get fired from my job.

Not sure where to start or end. It's really just a dark entity that permeates the entirety of an infinite hyperspace that exists within me. I'm making conscious effort not to feed it anymore, though my world seems to be giving me every reason to do so. It's really a struggle for me to stand up, forcing myself to see things as they are and not get so negative about them, yet I try. But why? I've been told that the best way of approaching this stuff is to allow myself to feel the way I do and just simply observe what's going on.

Within me at the moment, since it was today that I was terminated, there is a mild sense of fear about the future. The position I had provided me a sense (perhaps false?) of security when it came to handling future situations. I knew I'd get a paycheck the following week and would be able to use that to pay the mortgage on my home. Without the job, there's no money coming in, and in the future thinking I fear that I may not acquire enough money in the right amount of time to pay my debtors. That's where my anxiety is coming from it seems. I'm somewhat attached to my current home, which I'm told is actually a temporary thing anyhow. Perhaps another part of my negative feelings come from the unforeseen work and obligations I'm going to have very soon. The paperwork, the applying for jobs, more letdowns, driving all over, budgeting, etc.

However as I observe all this I feel a sense of space within it all. What is actually happening to me right at this moment? I'm sitting in a comfortable chair typing away on a pretty nice laptop in a warm bedroom feeling little to no pain in my body. I'm hyper focused on composing words and therefore very much in the present moment, outside of the thoughts that I must have in order to fill this with actual content. I really could care less whether or not these words are read by anyone other than myself, and I'm at peace just simply doing this.

Simplicity is part of making one's life much easier, more stress-free. All the suffering I could be enduring right now would all be justified wholeheartedly by my ego and I'd be in quite a lot of pain throughout the process. It would exhaust me, and I wouldn't be as productive in solving the issue at hand, which is "What to do about money?" It's a problem that, as difficult and stressful as it may sound, has an attainable solution.

The best advice I had today was to focus my effort on simply that. I have all the help I need, support structure from my peers, and it's completely possible to come to a positive outcome, regardless of how I may or may not think it will turn out. If I keep just the essential in mind throughout the process I'll be well off.

So that is the path I've chosen.

Where Am I?

So much to say, so little time.

No time now...

True Essence

I'm allowing the surfboard to take me where the waves flow. Non resistance has allowed me to live virtually stress free. I'm sure the meds have a roll to play in this, as well as the new freedom, though I really feel like it's the fact that I'm not clinging anymore that is making my life easier. The real me is coming out and asserting itself. It's the person I've been hiding from all these years out of fear.

There's so much repressed art inside of me that I feel like will be coming out in an explosion, like a nuclear bomb. I've felt it for so long and the device has been finally detonated, mature and ripe, ready to go. Out there is an audience that has been patiently waiting for the show to start. The house lights are now dim, the cheers of anticipation and excitement are omnipresent. I am now in a place where I feel it's time to show my full colors without restraint. I've been able to go past my line of sight to see clearly the truth, the truth about this world, the truth about myself.

I'm an artist. I'm a goddamn artist, and as long as I align myself with this fact I'll be living a fulfilling life. I'm no longer restraining and repressing my true nature, for it has only caused me pain and suffering. I've tried suffocating it like it was meant to be dead. I'm so grateful for it though, and am embracing it fully.

So what I'm at a Starbucks typing this at a table amongst a crowd of intellectual, hipster caffeine addicts? I don't care anymore! I feel at home wherever I go now! This place feels right! The other day I went and had a japanese lunch, by myself, and enjoyed it! Part of my growth has been the realization that I don't have to live for others, to only do what seems to appease the people around me. They can criticize all they want but if I know there's nothing wrong with what I'm doing I will continue to do it. I'm no longer basing how I feel about myself on what others think of me. Of course most people hear that statement and go, "Well, yeah, of course," yet never truly practice this principle. Growing up as a people pleaser due to my mom's aggressive upbringing, it was difficult for this concept to resonate within my psyche. It's like, everyone knows it's a good idea to eat healthy, though how many of us truly can accomplish this?

Perhaps it takes an event or series of events to break us and fix us. For me it definitely was the case, and I am forever grateful for what happened. It was full of pain, years of it, and every moment of it was worth it because of what the conclusion of it all was for me.

I broke apart my fake exoskeleton.
I broke apart my fake endoskeleton.
All that's left is my true essence.

Ep.002 - you.were.my.last.hope

Ep.001 - Hello World

Terminal Velocity

The theory is that information cannot travel faster than the speed of light. If this is the case, there is definitely a physical limit to how bad things can ever get. The penny that one throws off of the Empire State Building cannot cause nearly as much damage as one might think. With that being said, I feel terrible for that tiny pigeon that happens to be in line with the object's trajectory.

Lately I've been camping out and watching the great forest fire that the authorities are attempting to extinguish. I had no idea my house was so flammable! As bad as that is, I'm beginning to feel nostalgic as I roast those marshmallows. Sort of a home away from home. Alien, yet strangely familiar. My mind becomes clear, empty, at peace. I focus on the texture and subtle flavor of a slightly charred treat as I close my mouth. The hot, yet tolerable heat from it causes the blood in my veins to move at a quicker pace. I listen to the low rhythmic pounding in my ears as my heart consistently delivers and receives the goods. A smile comes to my face when I begin putting trust back into that vital organ, the same one that's been my most trustworthy and reliable friend since the day I was born.

Of course, the bag runs out eventually and I have to get up and keep buying new ones, though at least I know that there's a place down the corner from me that sells them buy one, get one free! To get myself above the five dollar minimum for credit card transactions I buy a few lighters. Also because I fucking love irony!


A cool, breezy autumn day is the best thing in the world for me, despite my allergies. While I find that the majority of others enjoy the summer more than anything, it is in the fall time that I find myself at home. It reminds me of closure, of conclusion, of realization. The end of a war. The leaves no longer remain on the trees and after just a few weeks of changing colors they all inevitably fall down. It's a humbling experience. The rustling sound they make as the wind blows them around the streets is a calm reminder for me to sit back and relax when things get tense.

For the duration of this season my subconscious grants me permission to allow the world to happen, just happen, in front of my eyes. "I am not the god of this planet," it gently reassures me as I put down the chain I've been tugging so hard on for so long. I relent and take a long, deep breath.

The leaf gently falls flat on the water of the stream, and the stream carries it down, passing by large stones, bridges, boats, eventually making it's way to a vast ocean where all that's left is the calm and peaceful waters.

- Ether