Undiluted Stupid

i’m dazed, in a sense.

so much is always happening, and when i try and sit down and hammer out a feeling of serenity, it feels forced. everything feels forced. it just comes rushing back that no one really cares about me, regardless of what i do to try incorporate myself into someone else’s world. i’m the sap who’s trying to help everyone else get along in life while acting as a stepping stone, or something inconsequential.

and really, i don’t care. how can i? i’m so hardwired to constantly feel like a failure at the goals i want to achieve, with a feeling that i’m not trying hard enough or something along those lines. intentions are good, but it’s all talk. no action occurs, and in some strange form of self-defense, i just don’t care.

i am who i am, and am (seemingly) comfortable with it, but still get worked up mostly to my own chagrin. in some sense, what else do i really have to do on this earth, what else do i have to strive for? it’s all so selfish and narcissistic though, and i just feel like i try and horn my way in to other people’s version of the same thing. if it happens, then i forcast into the future a feeling of purpose that ends up in the same realm of failure in the end (with all that hindsight). no one cares, including me, and i can’t bring myself to give half a damn. my expectations are so low that the slightest glimmer is enough to bring up my conditioned feelings of hope, a feeling of self-worth. it then comes crashing down at some point, and in the rubble is still me, not much different, not much changed.

i have somehow ended up being this delusional rock sitting in the middle of a harbor, thinking that i am changing the process of the tides, but am really just being slowly eaten away by them. the fact that i can even write a sentence like that means i have some self-awareness of it, and yet i can still delude myself into believing that i am somehow integral to all that i have surrounded myself with.

beyond my family, there really is just a wasteland of empty promises and good intentions. there’s a trick to becoming more important in this society, to myself and others, but i can’t master it. either the fact that i can’t or won’t (the delineation is small in this case) just leaves me apathetic. i end up in a dead zone of my own creation, with no one to blame but me. just try harder, says a voice in the back of my head, what do you really have to lose? right now, i got nothing on that. it’s right, i do have nothing to lose. i don’t act like it though.

i just don’t have the natural ability to make people care about me or my ideas in a way that inspires people that aren’t family.  and it spirals right back down into not caring. i don’t want to have that influence anyways because it probably will entail consequences i can’t fathom but would have to deal with. if i can get away with doing what i want and have people not really notice, then that will allow me to get away with it longer. start drawing attention to yourself, and then you have to deal with the “king of the mountain” mentality where you have to be on defense from people trying to knock you off, which just seems like an immense waste of energy for something so inconsequential.

i just can’t put that importance on it when i look around and see what this life is. i just can’t live in the moment, project into the future, and learn from the past. call it whatever you want, but all it makes me want to do is go hop on my bike or something mindless where i can do a task just to do it, and not have to worry about what others are going to think about it. i want to just exist in the moment, but am constantly being dragged back into speculation by the rest of society. and that’s completely my fault, because i want to take everyone else with me, which leads me back to wanting to just escape into myself. i care too much, and not at all.

so let’s really get into it now, the seed that planted all this. you might as well write it out to sort out your thoughts.

two weeks ago now, a co-worker of yours died. completely out of nowhere. he was in his late 50′s and was a good guy. always had a kind word for everyone, and spare package of gummi bears to give to you as a gesture. he fell asleep on the night of the 11th and was found dead of a heart attack the next morning. by his wife, no less.

this was the same guy that you met on your first post-college job, where you yourself worked as a warehouse dude, ordering what was needed and receiving packages to be filed away on a shelf for later use. he liked you a lot, because you were competent, and he held that in high regard. you were an energetic and bright-eyed college grad a mere 8 years ago, and when that company went under, you stayed on working in the warehouse because you were a temp they could hang onto to close up shop while they were getting rid of full-time employees. you had respect for him, but he could be a bit cranky, and he was just one of the many faces of people of people you liked that were let go when the company went under.

biotech is a small community though, and 3 years later, he ended up being the warehouse manager at your current job, and you were working in the lab PCRing like a madman. and you were happy to see a familiar face . for years you bantered with small-talk, mostly things about cupcake shops, family, and your favorite topic, beer. of course, everyone talks to you about beer, you won’t shut up about it. he just had the ability to be nice and ask pertinent questions.

a week after his death, there you are, staring down at him in his casket.  you seemingly had a conversation with him just the other day about weekend plans and having a case of the yawns that day. it’s fitting that he’s dressed in a train conductor’s outfit, but the waxen look from the embalming pulls all the wind out of your sails.  then you sit there as you watch family and friends that knew him so much better mourn his loss, their lives shattered and you feel so deeply for them, knowing that if you lost anyone of this magnitude in your life, you would be shattered too. after all of the gut-wrenching eulogies, there is a monet of lightness. with his love for trains, he (or someone in his family) decided to play Black Sabbath’s “Crazy Train” as the music to end the ceremony. you find the lyrics are actually strangely poignant considering the situation.

then it’s over, and all you can do is pull inward. you talk to other co-workers, but avoid family at all costs. you feel it’s not your place, and you feel a little ashamed in retrospect. loss is loss, no matter how you were connected. you go back to your regular life anyways, and so does everyone else.

leaving me back here, writing something that is really inconsequential to anyone but myself. i can only realize the impact of the events, and internalize them, because dwelling  is something i can do, but cannot feel on the level i feel should be proper.

life feels precious all the time to me, but of course that level varies. moods and events dictate so much in my life, but i can’t help but look at this with complete and utter sadness. if there’s one thing i learned from all this though, it is to know what i truly care about. there is only one thing in this life i could not bear to lose, and it’s certainly not me or any of my petty ideals or ideas of success in this world. caring about someone on that level just pales everything else in comparison.

there is no ‘me’ anymore, not really. why waste time dwelling and thinking on the inevitable when everything you need is right here.

After what has probably been a couple years too long, the family dog Jenny has finally passed on.  I am sad, but also kind of relieved. It was long coming, and for the past year there were glimmers of the dog she once was, but not being able to hear, see, or have any idea of what was going on made it difficult to see her as the dog i grew up with.

What really bugs me now though is that i come here to memorialize my dog, but i never really did with my grandma. actually i did do that, briefly. i didn’t post it though, just printed it out and put it somewhere. I guess there are limits to what i will post.

but really, i’m not here to memorialize, probably more to reflect. and direct it to myself and revel in narcissism, because that’s really what the blog is about. it’s not the prettiest way to go about it, but i imagine it gets me somewhere eventually.

this is the same situation as with Grandma though. I have to come to grips with the death that is occurred, but both were almost blessings. by the time they both passed on, they were shells of their former selves, a ghost of what i had grown up with. i will still miss them dearly, but i was glad that they didn’t have to suffer anymore.

as time marches on, these are the only real signposts i have to go back to. i only wish it didn’t take such extenuating circumstances to make them memorable.

what difference does it make though, if it makes me remember. picking her up from some house way out past carnation not soon after my first dog died.  her being the only puppy that ran away but still licked my face when i picked her up, her black lab mom Oprah tied up to the porch barking.  running around the yard growing up, with her always right behind, just wanting to have fun and be where you were. hiding in the bathtub whenever thunderstorms occurred or it was near the 4th of July. her sleeping on the ground of my room no matter what age i was. frustration with her as i would let her outside to go to the bathroom and she would bolt into the dark woods barking at something, forcing me to chase her out there with a flashlight. the countless times jogging around the tuscany trail, her leading the way for about 5 minutes before getting too sidetracked and tired to keep up and having to wait for her to make sure she didn’t get lost. coming back home for holidays after i had moved out, her always hanging out in front of the garage happily greeting and looking like I had never left. even when she could barely get up to say hi, she still would make it happen,  her demeanor still filled with the sweetness that made her one of the best dogs ever.

it just makes me sit and reflect that i have all these moments. all of these memories i pick up along the way and can look back upon and feel happiness at the nostalgia, sadness at the loss, while everything else just keeps moving forward. with joy eventually must come sadness. but the more i boil it down, the less meaning i find to attach to it. all that matters are all those moments spent together, and that i remember them.

OK, so here i am. it is totally because i want to just type. i want to let loose and not have to read this damn thing 4 times before i even publish it.

it is pop culture overload. in-between my first viewing of jersey shore and just general junk on late night TV, my mind just imploded on itself. it’s just a symptom though. otherwise, i probably would have just ignored it.

my inner awesome is screaming to get out, so much so that i am willing to half-ass this shit on my dad’s toshiba where i have to go back and rewrite every few words due to my unfamiliarity with the keyboard setup. it’s not what i’m used to.

this life though, this life. apparently, it’s not what i’m used to. this is a ridiculous statement in itself. which is why i’m here. LET IT OUT, and just type shit. it already feels beyond cathartic. i can’t handle it. the idea of holding myself to writing standards feels surreal now, but i have been doing it for almost a year now.

i never held my writing to standards, but learned much from the exercise. it didn’t make it any better though, just more polished. a more polished voice, something that i can throw out there for everyone else to enjoy, and feel like i’m not offending anyone. a voice that has a fantastic edited quality, one that i think fits into a niche. how else could i possibly write? and yet, why else would i come here?

so my voice is my voice. do something with it if you think you can. you think it’s good? maybe throw it out in the public where it can be judged, not just sitting in your insulated world. ugh. it doesn’t matter, you know it doesn’t, that’s why it rides. you already know where you want it to sit, in self-reflective mode. it comes and goes and is where it belongs. semi-public, completely ignored.

then why write? why express? why try? it all just sits here, festering, wondering what purpose it has. and therein lies the contradiction. hang it out to dry on the clothesline to air out, or keep it on the down-low. either way, i am still here. still me, still existing. any way it goes, it ends up me v. myself, and it only matters how i express me to myself. an impossible task.

but why not keep trying?

as ridiculous as it gets, is there really any reason to ever give up?

Ya know, I was suddenly struck to come here for no reason at all. Mostly because I haven’t posted anything in months. mostly because I’m bored.

Ideas are still around, and just in these few sentences, I’m realizing how soothing it is to basically type free-form thoughts straight from my head as opposed to an article i try and craft and have to re-read and edit a couple times. and extreme run-on sentences, i love those. it’s freeing to just use my writing voice, and feeling that it doesn’t need to go anywhere, say anything.

that’s been missing for months. just the idea that no idea can stack up to the importance i try and place on it. breathing a little, laughing, and throwing out a few cliches. as a writer of blogs, it’s what i do best.

it boils down to just doing things occasionally, flexing the muscles you think have atrophied, only to realize you’re an idiot and you do things because of obligations self-imposed or otherwise.

just because it’s inconsequential doesn’t mean it isn’t necessary. sometimes, you just come to grips with things because it seems like more work to pick it apart into its pieces than to just go with it. sometimes, the components are everything. sometimes, they don’t matter.

everytime, it really just depends on how i’m feeling that day.

Hi there, poor neglected bloggie. being left out in the cold over here for that side project hussy I have going on right now that takes up all my writing time. Don’t worry though, i only treat you so because i know you’ll always be there for me. because i have to write as myself, and i need a place to throw out everything that i’m trying to process. projects aren’t the best place to diary, although it does make it more interesting.

so here we are. me feeling like i need to write something out, partly due to free time, partly due to the need to write. it comes down to a thought that i had a few days ago, while driving to work.

i have all over my life little reminders that say “I am rad”. the background of my computer, my phone, and then just various other things that remind me that i am indeed, rad. but it flipped in my head suddenly, and it just became “be rad”.

a multitude of interpretations came flying into my head. why all of the sudden this idea? has it really been the message i’ve been trying to get across to myself this entire time? by focusing on me, does it inadvertently project on to others, or do i need to do the legwork involved with outward projection? why not just be rad, instead of telling myself i am?

i feel like it’s been the object the entire time, but i never told myself that’s what it was. so apparently the big importance is in the framing. why does it make me feel uneasy, and a little more existential crisisy? this idea has just sat there at my core, interpreted as being self-grandiose, but with justification due to my actions of being rad. That idea is still in there certainly, but it is not so much the knowing of the idea, but of putting it into action. the difference lies in the action.

which is probably the “why” of the uneasiness. the war in your character between caring and not caring, of action and inaction. life is amazing because of action, because of what you put into it. good or bad, this action is what makes your life worth living. it leaves an impact on you and others directly influenced, and leaves an impression, forcing you and others to process the meaning. it creates what you are as a person.

inaction is a necessary otherside to this duality, but is not as glamorous. where action is bold, inaction is timid. where action is adventure, inaction is safety. and on and on. the yin and yang of a big part of being a conscious being, and a part of a society that dictates the norms. My propensity for action or inaction directly stems from what i think of as free will. my ability to decide to care or not is about all i have to make me, me. the thing is, that infers control of some kind, which conflicts with another idea packed in there that i have no control. not really. not that i believe there’s such a thing as fate, that we’re all just hapless bystanders.

the idea is more that control or not, it doesn’t matter. if you feel like you don’t want control, go ahead and relinquish it. if you feel like you have control, go ahead and do it. i’m just sitting at the cross roads, sitting down, unable to make a decision. is the inability to make a decision like this being active or inactive though?

but like i said, it doesn’t matter. i may talk big talk about processing ideas, but at the center of each one of them is “you know, it doesn’t really matter”,  the totally existential catch-all where you just say you’re gonna end up dead anyways, and it doesn’t matter. which as far as i know, is completely true. but i don’t completely accept it, otherwise i would just do whatever i wanted, because i’m sure not gonna care when i’m dead. that unfeeling void is there though, deep in the heart of darkness. it just is. and i do everything i can to take it in stride, to be the person i think i can be, despite the futility of it all. considering the idea that it doesn’t matter anyways, it surely doesn’t matter if I want to distract myself in the meantime.

what strikes me, is that in this void, there is no truth. as far as i can tell, truth is a concept developed by humans, for humans. there has to be an ability to tell what is true from what is false in day to day life, and there needs to be some guidelines to adhere to. but there is no truth in the void, it just is.

i don’t know if my compassion and empathy and the general essence of me stems from defiance of what is at this core. that big, black void that doesn’t beckon or seduce me, it’s just there in absolute neutrality. i make decisions based on a whole lot i don’t understand, but have decided to care about due to mostly societal factors. and why not. there aren’t too many other yardsticks lying around here and my dopamine reactions to situations is as good as anything else.

so that brings me back to that previous idea, that there is control. i control what i care about, hence what makes me as a person, with  refraction of my ideas bounced off of others that i choose, given back to me and anyone else who wants to pay attention. it really doesn’t matter, unless i want it to.

i think that’s it. instead of thinking i’m standing up to the void by staring into it and saying “i am rad” as if i’m something special, i can look upon it in all it’s uncaring and uncertain majesty and tell myself “be rad”. therein lies my choice, my modicum of control in the swirl of chaos.

be rad.

Is anyone else as excited as i am about the possibility of neutrinos going faster than the speed of light? I really hope that it can be reproduced and isn’t just a fluke, which it very well could be. These things happen when dealing with sub-atomic particles.

But really, what kind of universe do we live in where something so  supposedly inflexible as the speed of light can be shown to be flexible? How many possible dimensions are out there?

Questions begetting more questions, off to infinity.

Life at the speed of action. There is something missing from my normal brain activity, some deficiency of something or other. Life is barrelling along so fast that i am just caught on the wave without any real time to think, only to act/react.

My brain doesn’t want to react, it is just sitting in the corner pouting, only wishing to be left alone. not even using treats can really coax it out, because the treats don’t hold any value. Nothing relly feels like it has value right now, positive or negative. These things just are. Objects among other objects, without any qualities with which to judge, things that just are.

Things become incomprehensible now, and ruminations of borderline depression set in. but that’s just another object, with defineable physical qualities but no soul, no substance.

There just always seems so much to do that accomplishes so little. Although that’s hardly fair. “Little” is pretty subjective there. I guess just the ratio of how much input i feel i’m putting in according to my life experience parameters to how much i’m getting out.

the economics of scale in terms of the metaphysical. a cold, cold way to think. of course it’s going to lead to annoyance.

Been awhile since i been here. Mostly because life is busy. That is code for “priorities change”. If i wanted to, I’d write here. Like I am now.

This week has been a big reminder of who i am, as an individual named Ryan. All in this life that i hold dear stems from what i have claimed as an individual, ideas i have come to terms with through my own (supposedly) free-will. Without outside influence though, i would only be left with myself, left with only a mirror to bounce ideas off of. I think we all know that only works up to a point. mental images of “Castaway” come to mind.

So (big shocker here) I went to a local hip hop show tonight. This one was definitely lower key though. it was at the crocodile, and we got there way too early, as usual. it was just Heather and I, but in between chatting, you could just sit back and watch the waves of people come to shore like the tide. more and more friends of friends kept showing up, hugging and slapping hands, sharing gestures of brotherly love. before you knew it, the place  was loaded with beautiful people. because in the end, this is beltown.

the show started, and the artists we saw were great. this was a showcase of the young and earnest, supported by friends and family. this is both sides coming together in a public forum, creating and supporting.  Heather and I are so old that we only made it until 11:30, and only half of the acts had gone up. We were at the front of the stage that entire time though, and really, we can get away with bailing early. You spend enough time out, and eventually, you have to pass the torch of staying out all night and getting hammered to the younger generation. again, “priorities change”.

but we were interlopers at this thing. gawkers, almost. 2/3 of the people there were family, friends, or significant others of friends. we did our best to blend in as we were there in support of our local hip-hop. really though, both acts were good enough to warrant genuine excitement, which made it easier. It still showed everything in stark contrast. this show was a friends and family show, one i have been to before for my own friends and family. looking from the outside-in, i can see the beauty in a way i would never have the awareness to see it from the inside-out.

Tonight was just the point though, there was lots of build-up to this. The whole societal social net showed itself in clearer terms than i had ever seen. it wan’t so much a slap in the face, more like a tweak on the nose with a “gotchoo!” for emphasis. I’m pretty sure it was because i was ready to see it. i couldn’t have been ready consciously, it was always gonna have to come from the sub.

it bubbled up and showed me that all i have in this life is my friends and family. the only reason i’m even close to being the person i want to be is because i want to be that person for them and myself.

This weekend, i have this whole itinerary where I’m biking from work to my parent’s house to a beer fest, and then back to my parents house, because i wanted to do a little training for the STP and this is a practical way to go about it. save a little gas money in the meantime, as well.

I totally forgot my phone at home today,and won’t be getting it back until sometime late tomorrow. It’s kind of liberating. People are going to try and get ahold of me and think I’m a total jerk for not getting back to them immediately. More likely, no one is actually going to try and get ahold of me, as everyone leads busy weekends in the summer.

I kinda love doing shit like this though. It’s not like i can’t come to the internet, or have access to phones in other places i go. It’s just inconvenient enough to get ahold of me now. the ball’s in my court now, i will be getting a hold of YOU when i damn well feel like it.

what a time we live in! i have expectations of instant gratification in every aspect of my life. it’s nice to pull back from that for a moment or two, and realize just how silly it is sometimes. what’s not important will soon become not-important again, and life will carry on.

So this is part of my punishment, i suppose. having an idea, a fully-fleshed idea ready to go, and then forgotten. it had something to do with starting with “Ex”. Exaltation, extension, expensive, it doesn’t matter. As important as that idea may have seemed at the time, this one takes it’s place. you forgot a seemingly important idea. despite how important that first one may have been, aren’t you here now because of it? and aren’t you now expressing said idea inferiorly?

good job idiot, this is the life you live. just the thought of leaving this thought unedited leaves you happy. it would be incomprehensible. you’re not that drunk, but typing takes focus, and you’re too mad at yourself to do so properly. the filters you have in place at least take up enough space to keep you from doing this raw.

the conception was a good thought though, and hopefully, you can find your way back to it.

this does not bode well for your ideal self though, typed in words that are socially acceptable. true definitions are not beyond you, but are beyond what you are willing to expose to those who may discover who you are.

it feels like bullshit to type in code, but at the same time, it makes you think. the thought strikes you though: really this is stupid all-around, and anyone hoping to get anything out of this beyond yourself  is getting what they paid for.

now get back to rememberin’. who else is it going to do any good for?