I watched the Accountant last night, and while not an amazing movie, it did make me think about autism a little bit. I've wondered off and on if I don't have some sort of cognitive disorder, where I'm still more or less high-functioning but perpetually unable to get my thoughts/life together for a variety of reasons.
It's not that I want to feel special, although that's a tendency I have and try to kill when i feel it germinating, it's that I'm wondering if there aren't practical, non-medical cognitive therapies that could help me get some of it under control. I'd like to be able to leave the house without going back checking the door/stove/sinks three times. I'd like to be able to leave meaningless tasks unfinished. I'd love to not shut down entirely in crowds or with loud noise. I'd love to be able to complete a single goddamn task with meticulous detail instead of getting bored and half-assing the end of it.
There are some general practices I'm still dragging my feet on implementing. Like less screen time, and more time devoted to meditation, yoga, just literally taking the time to let me body unclench every now and then. I've slowly been picking up book reading, and that feels good. Working on Not checking my phone when I need to wait 15 seconds for something. Writing, of course, always the writing. I'd like to feel like I can read a thing, or a few things, and then put intelligent words together and talk about it.
Cutting way back on pot his helping. Although the concurrent rise in anxiety probably needs I need to cut back on the caffeine as well. These chemical balances are all so delicate aren't they?
In short, I am not happy with my behavioral and cognitive habits and I aspire to function at a higher level than I currently enjoy.
Monday, October 31, 2016
Saturday, September 17, 2016
stubbornly locked on decay
So, I reached the 10k eliminations point on Overwatch, if that's a helpful indicator of how I've been spending my time recently. Eliminations are the record of how many video game action figure deaths I have contributed to. It makes me feel bad to play it a lot, because I don't play with friends, and I realized recently I play it less because I'm hooked on the game, and more because I'm hooked on feeling bad about myself? So that's a problem. My tunnel vision obsession with various activities may be a separate problem all it's own though.
The long and short of everything about me right now is I'm disconnected from people too much and I'm living in a way that feels out of synch with what I want for my life and in some cases my values and those things are driving me a little nuts. I think I'm trying to reach bottom, or at least a cliff overlooking bottom, in a controlled landing, so I can start building up again. I'm going for a tabula rasa moment, while being frustrated about how boring that is.
I had, unexpectedly, a magical evening with a gentleman that might be a doomed relationship or the potential start of something really good. I don't know which yet. It was a nice reminder that I can feel better, things can be better, and there are people I genuinely do connect with. Also, a pointed reminder that I desperately need to create space in my life for that kind of thing to happen. Currently that space is filled with video games, self-loathing and apathy.
I have a post I keep meaning to write about this shithole of a year, but it would be more catharsis than anything. So be excited for that.
I've been watching Star Trek: TNG obsessively recently, and it's been a nice antidote to this godawful, never-ending presidential election. I read a pretty interesting article on the limits of the humanism in that show, which I ended up largely agreeing with. In short, cultural relativism only takes you so far. But it has been nice to watch stories that trod that fine line between holding your values and continuing to work towards amicable and peaceful solutions with even the most aggressive and personally repugnant of enemies. It's a quality we seem to be losing as a culture and I miss it dearly. No one can see themselves in the other anymore and that bodes poorly for prospects of peace in the near future.
I'm taking this ramble as a writing victory and you can't stop me.
The long and short of everything about me right now is I'm disconnected from people too much and I'm living in a way that feels out of synch with what I want for my life and in some cases my values and those things are driving me a little nuts. I think I'm trying to reach bottom, or at least a cliff overlooking bottom, in a controlled landing, so I can start building up again. I'm going for a tabula rasa moment, while being frustrated about how boring that is.
I had, unexpectedly, a magical evening with a gentleman that might be a doomed relationship or the potential start of something really good. I don't know which yet. It was a nice reminder that I can feel better, things can be better, and there are people I genuinely do connect with. Also, a pointed reminder that I desperately need to create space in my life for that kind of thing to happen. Currently that space is filled with video games, self-loathing and apathy.
I have a post I keep meaning to write about this shithole of a year, but it would be more catharsis than anything. So be excited for that.
I've been watching Star Trek: TNG obsessively recently, and it's been a nice antidote to this godawful, never-ending presidential election. I read a pretty interesting article on the limits of the humanism in that show, which I ended up largely agreeing with. In short, cultural relativism only takes you so far. But it has been nice to watch stories that trod that fine line between holding your values and continuing to work towards amicable and peaceful solutions with even the most aggressive and personally repugnant of enemies. It's a quality we seem to be losing as a culture and I miss it dearly. No one can see themselves in the other anymore and that bodes poorly for prospects of peace in the near future.
I'm taking this ramble as a writing victory and you can't stop me.
Tuesday, August 09, 2016
All Overwatched over
Overwatch is fine, really. I'm an old, sad, introverted man so I don't enjoy team play games that much, but it really is sparkly polished. The DLC loot boxes are bullshit of course. I paid $20 hoping for an american flag McCree (nope!), but they're still a bullshit micro-transaction mechanic as it relies purely on gambling. It seems more appropriate for a collectible card game than a team shooter, but whatever. Blizzard wants your addiction and your money so I guess it's the obvious path forward for them.
Regardless, my real "complaint" is that it isn't a game with a strong single-player storyline and campaign. I know that wasn't the game they intended to make, but the Overwatch universe is probably the most interesting IP Blizzard has ever created and you can only really do the equivalent of play with the action figures from it. I would like to dive deeper into that universe but I can only ever skim the very surface. Frustrating!
Regardless, my real "complaint" is that it isn't a game with a strong single-player storyline and campaign. I know that wasn't the game they intended to make, but the Overwatch universe is probably the most interesting IP Blizzard has ever created and you can only really do the equivalent of play with the action figures from it. I would like to dive deeper into that universe but I can only ever skim the very surface. Frustrating!
Monday, August 01, 2016
I finally figured out why i was so angry on dating sites.
1) I don't feel seen. I'm either invisible to the guys who only like "fit" people or I'm a fetish to someone who chases chubbies but doesn't actually know much about me as a person, they just see a shape they like. I know it takes time to be seen, but still. For me people can be attractive right away, but an actual urge to fuck them doesn't appear until we exchange words and they say interesting things. I just don't feel like anyone can actually see me past their projected desires, self-hatred and/or over-whelming fetishes. And I'm too cranky to be patient about it. I guess I want someone who does the dance the way I do and I haven't run into it yet.
2) Perhaps more importantly, I'm not the version of myself I want anyone to fall in love with right now. So I'm cranky if you're interested in me, because this is not the me I want to be. And my desire to people please means there's a part of my brain telling me to stop changing so I can be this thing you currently desire. Which makes me angry because I don't want to stay this way. I'm miserable. This is why going off of dating sites was a relief. This is why I'm stand-offish with people. It doesn't make me a delight at parties, but this is something I can work with. I don't want anyone to fall in love with me and my shitpile life right now. Because I'm pretty sure no one sees the me I think of as my true self through this carbuncle I've grown over myself in rage and self-defense. That's okay. I think at this point it's just good to know where to focus my energy.
As you might have picked up from previous posts, I'm not the most stable top on the table. I'm not sure why more people don't see that.
My goal is to operate kindly to myself and others and have a positive impact on the communities I interact with and friends, I have a long way to go. So far being angry at myself and the world has not been a good path forward.
1) I don't feel seen. I'm either invisible to the guys who only like "fit" people or I'm a fetish to someone who chases chubbies but doesn't actually know much about me as a person, they just see a shape they like. I know it takes time to be seen, but still. For me people can be attractive right away, but an actual urge to fuck them doesn't appear until we exchange words and they say interesting things. I just don't feel like anyone can actually see me past their projected desires, self-hatred and/or over-whelming fetishes. And I'm too cranky to be patient about it. I guess I want someone who does the dance the way I do and I haven't run into it yet.
2) Perhaps more importantly, I'm not the version of myself I want anyone to fall in love with right now. So I'm cranky if you're interested in me, because this is not the me I want to be. And my desire to people please means there's a part of my brain telling me to stop changing so I can be this thing you currently desire. Which makes me angry because I don't want to stay this way. I'm miserable. This is why going off of dating sites was a relief. This is why I'm stand-offish with people. It doesn't make me a delight at parties, but this is something I can work with. I don't want anyone to fall in love with me and my shitpile life right now. Because I'm pretty sure no one sees the me I think of as my true self through this carbuncle I've grown over myself in rage and self-defense. That's okay. I think at this point it's just good to know where to focus my energy.
As you might have picked up from previous posts, I'm not the most stable top on the table. I'm not sure why more people don't see that.
My goal is to operate kindly to myself and others and have a positive impact on the communities I interact with and friends, I have a long way to go. So far being angry at myself and the world has not been a good path forward.
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Who's gonna drive you home?
My mother hates to drive through central Portland. It's too confusing she says. I think the real reason is that my mother likes the "story of cars" that we told for the last half-century. Cars are the ultimate space/time annihilation device, and we should build roads the maximize that capability. The problem, i think, that my mother really has with central Portland is it does not tell that story to itself.
Cars still dominate, yes, but walking and bicycling are much closer to parity in terms of what is deemed "important." After living here 8 years I am much more like to walk a few blocks and kickbike a few more than I am to grab a car and go. So much so that I actually sold my car after a couple years of light use because it didn't seem worth the cost right now. Central Portland is still not my ideal transportation environment, but it's much closer than most any other western city in the U.S. where cars and the cultural and philosophical assumptions that come with them absolutely dominate.
For instance in Boise, where my mother is from, the lanes are wide and the speed limits are high. This used to be largely because point A to point B usually had nothing but safely fenced farm animals on the side of the road. Over the last 20 years, every farm I used to drive by between church school and anywhere else has been slowly converted into suburbs or shopping centers. But the speed limits are, if anything, higher, the roads are even wider, and while there are sidewalks, it's a trek of at least a mile or two to get from the housing communities to stores of any type. But the sidewalks are generally empty. No one is really expected to walk. The mass transit system in Boise is, well, it's not a priority and is generally only useful in the downtown area. Downtown Boise is the historical remnant of a time when the walkable communities were the cultural norm which as long since been cast aside in favor of living in quiet suburbs and spending an hour or two a day in one's car.
Cars prefer to dominate at speed. Less than 45 mph and the car and drive are operating sub-optimally. Ideally, the car proceeds at the highest velocity in the maximum amount of comfort. This is all my mother wants from a vehicle. The problem being, nature and virtually every other element of civilization move at a much slower pace. This is why freeways exist. Paved lanes built specifically as anti-natural spaces, where time and space can be neatly annihilated with no worry about ecological concerns.
Of course, any animals who wander into these anti-nature zones are quite likely damned. This is because animals don't understand 80 mph. Except maybe for the speedsters that live on african savannas. But in most of the world, 80 mph might as well be witchcraft. An animal that sees a car moving faster than 25 mph, give or take, will not be able to react to it sanely. There's no predator in nature that moves like that. And so they make the wrong choice and are damned. Generally, we don't care how many animals we sacrifice, the need for the speed and dominance of the automobile is so strong. I only say that because we seem to have tried very little to prevent roadkill on our highways. We kill an acceptable number of wild animals in the name of speed and that is as far as we tend to think about it.
This is also why freeways are usually cut separate from the other roads in a city ecosystem. The ideal speed for cars and their occupants is generally hostile to community ecosystems as well. It's hard to work safely or quietly, take a stroll, talk to friends with vehicles moving at speeds greater than 45 mph or so right next to us. Life in a city is built for slower speeds. What is sanity for the driver is insanity for the pedestrian or the bicyclist. Any attempt at parity between them will simply result in bicyclists and other vehicles slowing down to speeds the pedestrian animal can make sense of.
This is not to damn cars as evil things. I just sometimes wonder if the cultural mindsets surrounding them aren't out of balance with equally important things. For instance the survival of wildlife and the health and happiness of people not currently driving.
Cars still dominate, yes, but walking and bicycling are much closer to parity in terms of what is deemed "important." After living here 8 years I am much more like to walk a few blocks and kickbike a few more than I am to grab a car and go. So much so that I actually sold my car after a couple years of light use because it didn't seem worth the cost right now. Central Portland is still not my ideal transportation environment, but it's much closer than most any other western city in the U.S. where cars and the cultural and philosophical assumptions that come with them absolutely dominate.
For instance in Boise, where my mother is from, the lanes are wide and the speed limits are high. This used to be largely because point A to point B usually had nothing but safely fenced farm animals on the side of the road. Over the last 20 years, every farm I used to drive by between church school and anywhere else has been slowly converted into suburbs or shopping centers. But the speed limits are, if anything, higher, the roads are even wider, and while there are sidewalks, it's a trek of at least a mile or two to get from the housing communities to stores of any type. But the sidewalks are generally empty. No one is really expected to walk. The mass transit system in Boise is, well, it's not a priority and is generally only useful in the downtown area. Downtown Boise is the historical remnant of a time when the walkable communities were the cultural norm which as long since been cast aside in favor of living in quiet suburbs and spending an hour or two a day in one's car.
Cars prefer to dominate at speed. Less than 45 mph and the car and drive are operating sub-optimally. Ideally, the car proceeds at the highest velocity in the maximum amount of comfort. This is all my mother wants from a vehicle. The problem being, nature and virtually every other element of civilization move at a much slower pace. This is why freeways exist. Paved lanes built specifically as anti-natural spaces, where time and space can be neatly annihilated with no worry about ecological concerns.
Of course, any animals who wander into these anti-nature zones are quite likely damned. This is because animals don't understand 80 mph. Except maybe for the speedsters that live on african savannas. But in most of the world, 80 mph might as well be witchcraft. An animal that sees a car moving faster than 25 mph, give or take, will not be able to react to it sanely. There's no predator in nature that moves like that. And so they make the wrong choice and are damned. Generally, we don't care how many animals we sacrifice, the need for the speed and dominance of the automobile is so strong. I only say that because we seem to have tried very little to prevent roadkill on our highways. We kill an acceptable number of wild animals in the name of speed and that is as far as we tend to think about it.
This is also why freeways are usually cut separate from the other roads in a city ecosystem. The ideal speed for cars and their occupants is generally hostile to community ecosystems as well. It's hard to work safely or quietly, take a stroll, talk to friends with vehicles moving at speeds greater than 45 mph or so right next to us. Life in a city is built for slower speeds. What is sanity for the driver is insanity for the pedestrian or the bicyclist. Any attempt at parity between them will simply result in bicyclists and other vehicles slowing down to speeds the pedestrian animal can make sense of.
This is not to damn cars as evil things. I just sometimes wonder if the cultural mindsets surrounding them aren't out of balance with equally important things. For instance the survival of wildlife and the health and happiness of people not currently driving.
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Teleportation is Murder
My real Star Trek theory is the teleporters actually kill everyone who uses them. They are destroyed at one end, and a perfect clone is recreated at the other. To the outside observer the same person has been transported. But in terms of the individual, their consciousness ceases to be and is then replicated.My new theory is picard was killed in season 1 when he beamed himself into that cloud. Rest of series he's a replicated clone.— James Haus (@SoylentHHH) July 28, 2016
And somewhere in the Trek afterlife, soul after soul finds its way to whatever lies beyond, astonished to find yet another almost, but not quite, like them. Hundreds, maybe thousands, over time. And whatever guardian exists in these dark halls watches with increasing vexation as each doomed soul pops into the hereafter, with a look of shocked recognition at the mirrored faces before them. This is not how it's supposed to be. It's not right. The natural order WILL be restored.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Crossed Wires
One of my favorite moments in "America: the Book: the Audio Book" is when Stephen Colbert reads a blurb about himself and ends it with, "He is personally unpleasant." I mean, I shift uncomfortably, but I love it.
My social interactions feel off to me. Promising friendships seem to evaporate because of the signals I send, I think, and I'm not sure what signals I'm sending exactly. Some days I don't have "social energy" and I'm mostly matter-of-fact with people. But it doesn't mean I don't like them, it means I don't have the energy to throw up a friendly smile and engage the chit-chat subroutines about how their day is going. I don't know if that' undiagnosed autism or insufficient finishing school training on basic politeness coupled with a disciplined "polite is what are you are even when you don't feel friendly," kind of thing. In other words, maybe I'm just poorly socialized and my skills are rusty.
I don't know, maybe I'm just personally unpleasant.
My social interactions feel off to me. Promising friendships seem to evaporate because of the signals I send, I think, and I'm not sure what signals I'm sending exactly. Some days I don't have "social energy" and I'm mostly matter-of-fact with people. But it doesn't mean I don't like them, it means I don't have the energy to throw up a friendly smile and engage the chit-chat subroutines about how their day is going. I don't know if that' undiagnosed autism or insufficient finishing school training on basic politeness coupled with a disciplined "polite is what are you are even when you don't feel friendly," kind of thing. In other words, maybe I'm just poorly socialized and my skills are rusty.
I don't know, maybe I'm just personally unpleasant.
Monday, July 11, 2016
#1 Crushed
So, a week or two ago I read probably the only good profile I've ever ready on Scruff of all places. It let me to this dude's blog. And friends, I have not crushed this hard in quite some time. In a fit of madness, forgetting that am currently a stubborn train wreck, I messaged him. He didn't seem too interested, which is fine, I'm not too interested in me currently either, but still. *CRUSH*
The intensity of "the crush" has floated back down to earth (he's great and not interested and I have to clean up this fucking train wreck anyway ...), but it was such a long-lost and powerful feeling that it all feels notable somehow.
Things I thought I had forgotten:
The intensity of "the crush" has floated back down to earth (he's great and not interested and I have to clean up this fucking train wreck anyway ...), but it was such a long-lost and powerful feeling that it all feels notable somehow.
Things I thought I had forgotten:
- The kind of person i want is out there. It may not be this guy, but it will be someone very much like this guy. I complain that people don't want me, but this isn't really the problem. I get a few messages a week on Scruff that I largely ignore because their approach is too sexual or just plain wrong. And the issue is partly self-worth/confidence/existential crisis but also largely they just don't seem to be what I want. I think I don't give myself enough credit for knowing what I want. I do. I just don't meet someone who embodies it very often. I am holding out for great chemistry and someone I am genuinely excited about and that's okay.
- Related to above, the kind of person I want EXISTS. I admit, I was losing faith in expecting a sense of resonance with anyone in particular. It has been a long, lonely year for me in Portland, partly because I just don't seem to be meeting a lot of people who I grok or who grok me at all. It is incentive to keep searching, and maybe leave the house. I rarely read a sense of humor that is exactly mine and it is exciting to know that exists. Maybe the key is not flopping over and giving up.
- I am both happy that I now have motivation to get my shit together and irritated that it once again took an attractive, funny guy to get me motivated. I want to figure it out independently of someone else dammit. How will it mean anything otherwise? Of course, this is just motivation to get myself cleaned up enough to be appealing to someone very much like this guy? Is that a vague enough desire? That may be okay. I've learned several times over now that bettering oneself for someone else specifically is a fool's errand, because the motivation all goes to shit when it inevitably doesn't work out.
- I am still capable of reason-destroying crushes. Warning! Danger!
- I miss my sense of humor. I miss being able to make people laugh with one self-deprecating joke after another. I miss laughing until my stomach hurts. I miss me. Come back me. To I.
- I'm as attracted to a pretty face as much as the next guy, but I don't really operate on a "must get sex with randos!" level. I wish I did. Might be fun. I imagine the people who can chat people up and into bed (*coughs* like the ex) live careless and joyfully orgasmic lives, but idk really. It's not something I've ever really experienced. But my sex drive doesn't really kick in until the crushening starts, and the crushening usually starts with words and a good sense of humor. That's okay. Apparently I'm not the only one! It's easy to forget in a world of dating apps, that not everyone is looking for the quick hook-up. Again: the kind of people I want are out there, I just need to keep looking. I just need to find a way to look that works for me. And maybe work on my scruff chatting skills, for those fits of crush madness.
I guess that's it. I had forgotten I could crush this hard. I have saved a drop of this feeling in a crystal vial near where my heart used to be. It seems important to remember the possibility of feeling this way again in the future.
Out of the Darkness, into the Weird
And now for something completely different ...
It's been occurring to me recently that one can be closeted about anything. Sexual orientation is certainly common. But a person will basically "closet" any personal information they don't feel will be accepted/understood by their peers. In this case of sexual orientation, this is damaging, as feeling free to pursue a meaningful sex life is an important life. Actually choosing to pursue a meaningful sex life is another matter entirely (ahem).
One of the closets I've been hiding in concerns my interest in the paranormal. I feel like I somehow have to defend the fact that I like to read about UFOs and ghost stories, even though the vast majority of our pop culture entertainment is based on related topics. I like to read about UFO sightings, and ghost sightings and near death experiences. I don't think considering the possibility that there may be more to those things than mass delusion is completely unreasonable. And even so, these various phenomenons are interesting purely as a social psychology topic, if one must insist that nothing one has not personally experienced could ever possibly be real.
That said, and here is the defensiveness, there is such a thing as taking an interest in the paranormal too far. There are a lot of charlatans looking to sell lies (and associated products based on said lies) to the public that wants to believe a little too much. And there's are certainly people who fixate on these topics and associated conspiracy theories to a completely unhealthy degree. But the fact that charlatans exist does not mean that paranormal things are not "real." They might not be of course, but they might also be real events playing by rules we simply don't understand yet. My simple theory is anything that seems to have happened, and turns out to have happened, however surprising, will have happened.
In this, as in many things, I do my best to remain agnostic. I don't see a reason to start a UFO cult, but neither do I feel the need to dismiss the huge number of weird encounters as delusions, simply because it's something I haven't experienced. Sometimes it's okay to say, "i don't know, but that's interesting to think about."
For me, I think a large part of the appeal is partly simply scientific curiosity, but also a deep dissatisfaction with modern life that powers a powerful desire for new information that would upset our collective applecart, be that confirmation of alien life or life after death or whatever. When I'm disenchanted by my choices, fanciful alternatives become more appealing. And friends, I am deeply disenchanted by the choices presented in modern life.
So that's all I have to say. I may mention the paranormal from time to time with the above mindset. I might not. Who knows. But I think it's silly to self-censor myself on a topic just because I'm afraid of not seeming rational. That hasn't stopped me otherwise, so why start now?
Bigfoot though, that's just bullshit of course.
It's been occurring to me recently that one can be closeted about anything. Sexual orientation is certainly common. But a person will basically "closet" any personal information they don't feel will be accepted/understood by their peers. In this case of sexual orientation, this is damaging, as feeling free to pursue a meaningful sex life is an important life. Actually choosing to pursue a meaningful sex life is another matter entirely (ahem).
One of the closets I've been hiding in concerns my interest in the paranormal. I feel like I somehow have to defend the fact that I like to read about UFOs and ghost stories, even though the vast majority of our pop culture entertainment is based on related topics. I like to read about UFO sightings, and ghost sightings and near death experiences. I don't think considering the possibility that there may be more to those things than mass delusion is completely unreasonable. And even so, these various phenomenons are interesting purely as a social psychology topic, if one must insist that nothing one has not personally experienced could ever possibly be real.
That said, and here is the defensiveness, there is such a thing as taking an interest in the paranormal too far. There are a lot of charlatans looking to sell lies (and associated products based on said lies) to the public that wants to believe a little too much. And there's are certainly people who fixate on these topics and associated conspiracy theories to a completely unhealthy degree. But the fact that charlatans exist does not mean that paranormal things are not "real." They might not be of course, but they might also be real events playing by rules we simply don't understand yet. My simple theory is anything that seems to have happened, and turns out to have happened, however surprising, will have happened.
In this, as in many things, I do my best to remain agnostic. I don't see a reason to start a UFO cult, but neither do I feel the need to dismiss the huge number of weird encounters as delusions, simply because it's something I haven't experienced. Sometimes it's okay to say, "i don't know, but that's interesting to think about."
For me, I think a large part of the appeal is partly simply scientific curiosity, but also a deep dissatisfaction with modern life that powers a powerful desire for new information that would upset our collective applecart, be that confirmation of alien life or life after death or whatever. When I'm disenchanted by my choices, fanciful alternatives become more appealing. And friends, I am deeply disenchanted by the choices presented in modern life.
So that's all I have to say. I may mention the paranormal from time to time with the above mindset. I might not. Who knows. But I think it's silly to self-censor myself on a topic just because I'm afraid of not seeming rational. That hasn't stopped me otherwise, so why start now?
Bigfoot though, that's just bullshit of course.
Friday, July 08, 2016
The great pruning
So, I just spent a few days going back through my blog and reviewing and removing posts I didn't want to keep attached to this blog anymore. Mostly boring game stuff, crass commercialism or stuff about exes that I don't want to relive too much. Those blog posts about how much I missed my girlfriend while she was on a month-long trip and, as it turned out, cheating on me for instance (the first of many exciting infidelities in my relationships!). Most of the more recent posts made the cut though. There were some things from when I was younger that seemed too unkind that I didn't want to keep either, so those got cut.
It was surprising how much unresolved crap it dredged up though. Maybe one good reason not to burn it all into the internet forever is so you don't have to relive hard times over and over again. But it does really strike me how much I have changed in some ways and how little I've changed in others. There are some posts from deep in the closet that I can't really relate to anymore, but there are other posts about depression and trying to relate to people and find a community and date and keep a reasonable goddamn sleep schedule that are just as true today as they were then. So I'm torn between "Hey, look how far you've come!" and "What ... what are you doing that you haven't budged an inch?"
A worthwhile exercise overall. I think.
It was surprising how much unresolved crap it dredged up though. Maybe one good reason not to burn it all into the internet forever is so you don't have to relive hard times over and over again. But it does really strike me how much I have changed in some ways and how little I've changed in others. There are some posts from deep in the closet that I can't really relate to anymore, but there are other posts about depression and trying to relate to people and find a community and date and keep a reasonable goddamn sleep schedule that are just as true today as they were then. So I'm torn between "Hey, look how far you've come!" and "What ... what are you doing that you haven't budged an inch?"
A worthwhile exercise overall. I think.
Thursday, July 07, 2016
8 years later ...
Found another old post about sleep habits. Still true. Could have been written this week.
Is it possible there's just nothing in Portland worth waking up for?
Is it possible there's just nothing in Portland worth waking up for?
Wednesday, July 06, 2016
11 years later ....
and this post still accurately reflects my relationship with my sleep schedule, albeit with a touch more sexism than I'm comfortable with today.
Let's do the Time Warp Again and Again and Again
Currently going back to posts in 2005 on this blog and watching me whine about problems I STILL haven't resolved. That sound you hear is my banging my head on the table.
So many thoughts ...
... so little ability to share them.
I do not have a sound daily practice for reading and writing so once again I have far too many posts queued up in my head that haven't been written. I think we're about to the breaking point so expect some in the near future. I want to tell you they won't be entirely solipsistic but ... I can't promise that.
Solipsism is the death of writing, I know, and it's probably why my writing is dead. I mean, you can only read about someone whining about how they can't get their shit together before you're just ready for them to get their shit together, or even be on the fucking path to getting their shit together and not wandering off in some field stepping on the same rake over and over and over and over ....
But I yam what I yam. And someday hope to be less of a yam.
Coming to some conclusions though. Action items are forming. One is: I hate this blog. I hate the solipsism, yes, but also the format and the platform. The platform doesn't deserve to be hated, it functions fine, but none of the themes are quite what I want. They all feel pretty dated at this point. A few blogs I've seen recently (more on THAT later), have convinced me I need to spend some time imagining what I want this blog to be and working on it. Should I finally get that together, I will, of course, put a link here somewhere. I just want to have a website that accurately reflects me. I'm not sure I have that yet.
In the meantime, I may go back and prune some less fortunate posts. Maybe the words of a younger, much stupider me don't need to be burned into the internet forever.
In the meantime, I may go back and prune some less fortunate posts. Maybe the words of a younger, much stupider me don't need to be burned into the internet forever.
Monday, June 27, 2016
James vs the Volcano
"I wonder where we'll end up?"
"Away from the things of man, my love. Away from the things of man."
Every now and then, when I'm deeply miserable enough, I remember Joe vs the Volcano and pop it into the DVD player. It's about a man who works at a job that is not just bad, but makes him feel sick all the time. Like he's dying. When DeDe asks him what's with his shoe, he says, "I'm losing my sole."
"I know," she says.
The only thing that pops him out of it, after countless tests, is confirmation that, yes, he is in fact dying. Of a brain cloud.
"So I'm not sick except for this terminal disease?"
"Which has no symptoms. That's right."
It's a beautiful fantasy of someone wasting his life away in the deepest, darkest bowels of industrial capitalism finding freedom, epiphany, love and a deep and meaningful sense of how big and beautiful and dangerous and tragic the world can be.
"I don't know what your situation is but I wanted you to know what mine is not just to explain some rude behavior, but because we're on a little boat for a while and ... I'm soul sick. And you're going to see that."
The journey is beautiful and whimsical. The characters engaging and entertaining. It is my favorite Meg Ryan movie. It is my favorite Tom Hanks movie. It is my favorite Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks movie. It has some of the most thoughtful and heartfelt writing I have ever encountered in a film.
It is both secular and sacred. A deeply agnostic celebration of rediscovering that connection to something bigger than ourselves.
"Dear god, whose name I do not know - thank you for my life. I forgot how big... thank you. Thank you for my life."
It is not, however, an imagining of how to reconnect to humanity. Humanity, after all, created the machine Joe is escaping. Good or bad, with every scene moves him further and further away from civilization and the sick people it produces. It's not that he hates them, but he just can't relate to them anymore. And he can't stay in a place that makes him sick. And no one understands when he tries to explain.
"I have no response to that."
There is only joy as he leaves civilization behind. Living well is the only road left to him, given his new perspective. And, lucky unlucky man that he is, he finds another soul sick person to share it with. And it's crazy and it's unbelievable and they decide to go for it, because what else had they been doing? What had the rest of the world ever offered them that surpassed what they'd found in each other? So they jump.
"Joe, nobody knows anything. We'll take this leap, and we'll see. We'll jump and we'll see. That's life."
"I saw the moon when we were out there in the ocean, shining down on everything. I've been miserable so long, years of my life wasted, afraid. Been a long time coming here to meet you - a long time, on a crooked road. Did I ever tell you? The first time I saw you, felt like I'd seen you before."
In they end they sail off together. No reunification with the human race desired or necessary. He was never dying. Convincing him he was was the last desperate attempt by the machine of civilization to kill him.
It's a desperate fantasy of a movie. And it speaks to me in places I forget I had about things I forgot I knew. Every now and then I watch Joe vs the Volcano and it tries to save my life.
Here's to remembering the things I already know. Here's to finding the soul sick and being understood. Here's to finding the path out.
"My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement."Here's to waking up.
Monday, June 06, 2016
Meanwhile
I wish I wrote here more often. Or would actually get around to making a more "modern" blog. I feel like my writing reveals too much of how fragmented my thinking has become though, now that I've used technology to train myself into a state of perpetual ADHD. And I still haven't gotten over smart kid syndrome enough to embrace humility. I think mostly what would fix that is less gaming, more reading and writing and maybe less caffeine. But still, it's been a slog to get over myself and just write, garbage though my writing may be.
Monday, May 09, 2016
Acedic
I learned the word "Acedia" today. The wiki about it is quite instructive: "Acedia is essentially a flight from the world that leads to not caring even that one does not care." Ominously it says it can take it's final expression in suicide, which is a bummer.
I am not suicidal, nor do I think I will ever be as I enjoy suffering a little too much, and I think I care that I don't care, but a flight from the world born out of an apathy for both the good and the bad of it more or less describes my current state. I just don't know where I fit after leaving the church, I don't know who my people are, I, in short, don't know why I get out of bed in the morning. I am that stereotypical actor asking in scene after scene, "what's my motivation here?"
Acedia is described as a cousin to depression, although it is typically described as a more spiritual sickness, typically countered with a spiritual practice of some sort. Both the diagnosis and the solution seem resonant to me, but I have yet to motivate myself to do it. I'm not sure what my spiritual practice is anymore.
Part of the problem is that "spirituality" and "spiritual" are overly broad words with a definition I am still trying to pin down. The plain definition is "of or relating to one's spirit" which really narrows it down oh-so-helpfully. So the root word in dire need of coherence for me is "spirit." What do I mean by that? I'm not sure, but I think mine is a little sick. And it's difficult to talk about, in a world where dogmatic materialists roam the streets, eager to jump down my throat should I be perceived as believing anything too "woo woo."
Don't get me wrong, I am proud of my critical thinking skills, I believe in reason and evidence. I'm a mother-fucking scientist and you're not, maybe I should mention. Most of the people who try to jump down my throat in defense of science and reason are, themselves, NOT motherfucking scientists, just passionate groupies who have forgotten how much they don't know about the world. But I digress.
But the humanities exist for a reason. There is a portion of human nature that is not fed by and does not function in the service of reason. It is not meant to. We are born with high-powered learning systems that help us process past events and convey their relevance to the current situation in the form of our feelings. Sometimes those feelings get in the way, or lead us astray, but they are generally quite helpful as the sum of all of our experiences with something from birth to the present (more or less). My goal is not to discard them or the body. I am not engaged in a holy crusade of intellectual domination over my animal nature or some clever hack around the body's limitations. Rather, I intend to reach some harmonious accord between my feelings, my body and my intellect. Somewhere in the sum of those things is something I am calling my spirit. Although still, that seems too fuzzy and vague for such an important idea. Still, mine seems sick, even though I find I have a hard time unpacking what "it" even is for you.
So where should I turn when my spirit is sick? My general impression is that the secular world has no time or respect for even the concept of the human spirit, so I am left with the traditional guardians of spiritual knowledge: organized religion. Shit.
Christianity's out immediately for me, of course. However much it may still contain universal truths, the institutional sicknesses and authoritarian nonsense that pervades much of it still blinds me to the more positive qualities. As a man who tends to love other men, I don't find their current stance on LGBT individuals too welcoming.
Honestly, I'm terrified of getting caught up in another cult of some sort. I'm too skeptical to take anything at face value anymore, but still, my spirit is sick. I am worried about the intellectual concessions I might make in order to feel better. I am worried about embracing cognitive dissonance again.
This is probably a good time to do more reading on this kind of thing, if I'm being honest. Buddhism as a practice appeals to me, of course. I'm not sure I could ever believe in the more supernatural aspects, but what I've experienced of meditation leads me to believe it might actual be a useful exercise. I guess I'm coming around to the idea that while supernatural beings may not exist (although who I am to say, other than to say I haven't seen any myself), spiritual practice may keep my mind and spirit healthy in the same way that exercise keeps the body healthy. Maybe intellectual/spiritual/physical exercise needs no story stronger than "you will feel better if you do these things." But I know this, and still find myself asking, "but what's my motivation?" This is the point where most people just want to kick me in the ass.
I don't think it would bother me if these supernatural constructs turned out to have some basis in "reality." As in, they are real and intelligent and out there somewhere. Mostly because I think everyone would be surprised at what they were really like. But since I don't have much direct evidence of that at present, I tend to think of them as ideological constructs to orient oneself toward. Even my intolerance of christianity abates a bit when I think of God more as a bundle of ideas and ideals to aspire to (forgiveness/charity/love/etc.) and prayer and weekly church attendance as the humble admission that we are limited beings who need to be reminded frequently of our higher ideals and to support each other in trying to embody them. This could be as true of the humanist as it is of the buddhist as it is of the christian I think.
I am currently in search of the ideological constructs that I want to orient myself towards. Whether those take the forms of pre-packaged gods one can find in the currently available pantheons or just some simple concepts expressed in a buddhist practice, I'm not sure yet. Maybe both! Maybe neither.
But I'm still looking. Because my spirit feels sick. Acedic.
I am not suicidal, nor do I think I will ever be as I enjoy suffering a little too much, and I think I care that I don't care, but a flight from the world born out of an apathy for both the good and the bad of it more or less describes my current state. I just don't know where I fit after leaving the church, I don't know who my people are, I, in short, don't know why I get out of bed in the morning. I am that stereotypical actor asking in scene after scene, "what's my motivation here?"
Acedia is described as a cousin to depression, although it is typically described as a more spiritual sickness, typically countered with a spiritual practice of some sort. Both the diagnosis and the solution seem resonant to me, but I have yet to motivate myself to do it. I'm not sure what my spiritual practice is anymore.
Part of the problem is that "spirituality" and "spiritual" are overly broad words with a definition I am still trying to pin down. The plain definition is "of or relating to one's spirit" which really narrows it down oh-so-helpfully. So the root word in dire need of coherence for me is "spirit." What do I mean by that? I'm not sure, but I think mine is a little sick. And it's difficult to talk about, in a world where dogmatic materialists roam the streets, eager to jump down my throat should I be perceived as believing anything too "woo woo."
Don't get me wrong, I am proud of my critical thinking skills, I believe in reason and evidence. I'm a mother-fucking scientist and you're not, maybe I should mention. Most of the people who try to jump down my throat in defense of science and reason are, themselves, NOT motherfucking scientists, just passionate groupies who have forgotten how much they don't know about the world. But I digress.
But the humanities exist for a reason. There is a portion of human nature that is not fed by and does not function in the service of reason. It is not meant to. We are born with high-powered learning systems that help us process past events and convey their relevance to the current situation in the form of our feelings. Sometimes those feelings get in the way, or lead us astray, but they are generally quite helpful as the sum of all of our experiences with something from birth to the present (more or less). My goal is not to discard them or the body. I am not engaged in a holy crusade of intellectual domination over my animal nature or some clever hack around the body's limitations. Rather, I intend to reach some harmonious accord between my feelings, my body and my intellect. Somewhere in the sum of those things is something I am calling my spirit. Although still, that seems too fuzzy and vague for such an important idea. Still, mine seems sick, even though I find I have a hard time unpacking what "it" even is for you.
So where should I turn when my spirit is sick? My general impression is that the secular world has no time or respect for even the concept of the human spirit, so I am left with the traditional guardians of spiritual knowledge: organized religion. Shit.
Christianity's out immediately for me, of course. However much it may still contain universal truths, the institutional sicknesses and authoritarian nonsense that pervades much of it still blinds me to the more positive qualities. As a man who tends to love other men, I don't find their current stance on LGBT individuals too welcoming.
Honestly, I'm terrified of getting caught up in another cult of some sort. I'm too skeptical to take anything at face value anymore, but still, my spirit is sick. I am worried about the intellectual concessions I might make in order to feel better. I am worried about embracing cognitive dissonance again.
This is probably a good time to do more reading on this kind of thing, if I'm being honest. Buddhism as a practice appeals to me, of course. I'm not sure I could ever believe in the more supernatural aspects, but what I've experienced of meditation leads me to believe it might actual be a useful exercise. I guess I'm coming around to the idea that while supernatural beings may not exist (although who I am to say, other than to say I haven't seen any myself), spiritual practice may keep my mind and spirit healthy in the same way that exercise keeps the body healthy. Maybe intellectual/spiritual/physical exercise needs no story stronger than "you will feel better if you do these things." But I know this, and still find myself asking, "but what's my motivation?" This is the point where most people just want to kick me in the ass.
I don't think it would bother me if these supernatural constructs turned out to have some basis in "reality." As in, they are real and intelligent and out there somewhere. Mostly because I think everyone would be surprised at what they were really like. But since I don't have much direct evidence of that at present, I tend to think of them as ideological constructs to orient oneself toward. Even my intolerance of christianity abates a bit when I think of God more as a bundle of ideas and ideals to aspire to (forgiveness/charity/love/etc.) and prayer and weekly church attendance as the humble admission that we are limited beings who need to be reminded frequently of our higher ideals and to support each other in trying to embody them. This could be as true of the humanist as it is of the buddhist as it is of the christian I think.
I am currently in search of the ideological constructs that I want to orient myself towards. Whether those take the forms of pre-packaged gods one can find in the currently available pantheons or just some simple concepts expressed in a buddhist practice, I'm not sure yet. Maybe both! Maybe neither.
But I'm still looking. Because my spirit feels sick. Acedic.
Friday, May 06, 2016
Vaporware
I had a few things I wanted to write about today, but they have gone, gone away.
Not today.
This whole week has kind of been a wash.
I've basically checked out for most of it and nobody really seems to have noticed.
I'm kind of in an in-between place in my life right now and I'm still trying to make sense of it.
I've left the fold but not joined another yet.
I am foldless.
Ideologically formless.
Unaccountable and unaccounted for.
More pudding than jello,
more jelly than mellow.
Hoping to figure it out a bit at a time.
Hoping the thoughts that have been circling find a place to land.
This is an update with blank space.
Not today.
This whole week has kind of been a wash.
I've basically checked out for most of it and nobody really seems to have noticed.
I'm kind of in an in-between place in my life right now and I'm still trying to make sense of it.
I've left the fold but not joined another yet.
I am foldless.
Ideologically formless.
Unaccountable and unaccounted for.
More pudding than jello,
more jelly than mellow.
Hoping to figure it out a bit at a time.
Hoping the thoughts that have been circling find a place to land.
This is an update with blank space.
Friday, April 29, 2016
Post-Finale
Like, the highly controversial How I Met Your Mother Finale, I have been unable to look at Seinfeld's previous seasons the same way after the series finale. I seem to be one of the few who both enjoyed those finales and found them a fitting end to each series, even though they weren't the end I saw coming. Actually, maybe BECAUSE they weren't the end I saw coming.
In watching previous seasons of Seinfeld, I knew they were kind of selfish curmugeons, but I never thought, "oh, these are truly awful people." I feel like a lot of the controversy came from some small misunderstanding about what these people were. Seinfeld finalized the series by laying out just how much those four miscreants had screwed over anyone else in their lives, because to him that was probably always how he viewed them (he and Larry David seem big into mining their self-loathing as comedic material), and the fans kind of recoiled in horror. "What kind of people have we been rooting for?" they asked. "Well," replied Jerry, "what kind of people did you really think they were?" I think for all of their faults, the characters were easy to get attached to, and I think suddenly pointing out that these were, in fact, terrible people made people a little defensive, because they had grown fond of them.
Of course, the complaint may have been largely tonal. The finale kind of had a "well, you four have had your fun at the expense of everyone else, and now the joke's over" kind of tone, which is kind of a down note for a comedy series to end on. It was the equivalent of turning the house lights on and telling everyone it was time to go home. Seinfeld had always existed in an absurd alternate universe, and to end on such a "realistic" note just seems discordant in retrospect.
Still, I find I appreciate it. Initially, I liked watching a "show about nothing" and just kind of laughing along with the loveable goofballs. Now, I can't help but notice how every single episode involves one of the 4 screwing up something important for one of their friends out of sheer selfishness, short-sightedness, and insecurity. Now that I rewatch it post finale, I can't believe I never really noticed just how terrible they all are, and how entertaining it is to watch one spectacular implosion after another. I think when I first watched it, I subconsciously attributed their troubles to sitcomical bad luck. But of course, they brought it on themselves every time. OF COURSE they did. How did I not see that until the last episode?
Nothing brings home "the party's over" feel of the finale and just how oblivious the four are, than the moment after the verdict is announced, and most of the series regulars cheer triumphantly and leave to celebrate. Left behind are the grief-stricken relatives, which are partly played for laughs (Frank Costanza shaking a collapsed Estelle shouting that he wants to beat the traffic out of there), but frankly the look on Jerry's parents is just devastating. They are deflated, defeated and sad. I find I want to hug them. And, of course, his family isn't even on Jerry's radar. This is not surprising, coming from the man who sincerely remarks that using less milk in his cereal is the hardest thing he's ever had to do. It seems a little too real though for a light-hearted show though.
And finally, they end right where they started, with the same conversation that started the series, having gained nothing and grown not an inch, on their way to a prison sentence they will likely learn nothing from. Honestly it seems apt. They are cartoonish caricatures of people, eternally selfish, narcissistic and shallow, who learn nothing. It's why they're funny. They'll never do anything surprising or out of character or new. And I love them more now than I did then.
In watching previous seasons of Seinfeld, I knew they were kind of selfish curmugeons, but I never thought, "oh, these are truly awful people." I feel like a lot of the controversy came from some small misunderstanding about what these people were. Seinfeld finalized the series by laying out just how much those four miscreants had screwed over anyone else in their lives, because to him that was probably always how he viewed them (he and Larry David seem big into mining their self-loathing as comedic material), and the fans kind of recoiled in horror. "What kind of people have we been rooting for?" they asked. "Well," replied Jerry, "what kind of people did you really think they were?" I think for all of their faults, the characters were easy to get attached to, and I think suddenly pointing out that these were, in fact, terrible people made people a little defensive, because they had grown fond of them.
Of course, the complaint may have been largely tonal. The finale kind of had a "well, you four have had your fun at the expense of everyone else, and now the joke's over" kind of tone, which is kind of a down note for a comedy series to end on. It was the equivalent of turning the house lights on and telling everyone it was time to go home. Seinfeld had always existed in an absurd alternate universe, and to end on such a "realistic" note just seems discordant in retrospect.
Still, I find I appreciate it. Initially, I liked watching a "show about nothing" and just kind of laughing along with the loveable goofballs. Now, I can't help but notice how every single episode involves one of the 4 screwing up something important for one of their friends out of sheer selfishness, short-sightedness, and insecurity. Now that I rewatch it post finale, I can't believe I never really noticed just how terrible they all are, and how entertaining it is to watch one spectacular implosion after another. I think when I first watched it, I subconsciously attributed their troubles to sitcomical bad luck. But of course, they brought it on themselves every time. OF COURSE they did. How did I not see that until the last episode?
Nothing brings home "the party's over" feel of the finale and just how oblivious the four are, than the moment after the verdict is announced, and most of the series regulars cheer triumphantly and leave to celebrate. Left behind are the grief-stricken relatives, which are partly played for laughs (Frank Costanza shaking a collapsed Estelle shouting that he wants to beat the traffic out of there), but frankly the look on Jerry's parents is just devastating. They are deflated, defeated and sad. I find I want to hug them. And, of course, his family isn't even on Jerry's radar. This is not surprising, coming from the man who sincerely remarks that using less milk in his cereal is the hardest thing he's ever had to do. It seems a little too real though for a light-hearted show though.
And finally, they end right where they started, with the same conversation that started the series, having gained nothing and grown not an inch, on their way to a prison sentence they will likely learn nothing from. Honestly it seems apt. They are cartoonish caricatures of people, eternally selfish, narcissistic and shallow, who learn nothing. It's why they're funny. They'll never do anything surprising or out of character or new. And I love them more now than I did then.
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