November 15, 2014

Floating on the calm waters, I felt some inner darkness recede for a time. I remember absorbing the light of the Sun and the power of that. I could feel life returning to my body — real life.

In a kayak on the waters of Walden Pond, in the serenity of the forest, I could smell the peace of the pines, and taste revival in the clear water. Life returned for a short time for me there. What darkness does to you is, when you come off of this, you remark internally that your kayak investment was a wise one.

Then someone showed me a picture of Kim Kardashian’s oiled-up butt.

Life can give you such an array of beautiful vestiges, and I so-happened to be one of the millions of humans (un)fortunate enough to witness this expression. At a glance, it  would appear to be completely meaningless, and yet I feel there is a chance to see something good here. Bear with me.

Instead of this shallow judgement, there must be a deeper purpose; a simple integration of the life experience in general. In moments like this, I try to remember that there is good to be cherished in all things, and life to be shared. There is at least one instance that changes one thing in you for the better.

The issue for us is that this doesn’t happen automatically. We must deliberately make ourselves open to the possibility that this event is not an end, but a beginning: an opportunity for positive growth.

This is an obvious challenge. But nothing of value in this world of experience is easy to attain. Life itself is a challenge, and naturally strives to survive — it must, or it will surely fail.

So then we must try, or we will ultimately achieve, witness or experience nothing of value. Risk is the answer, and whether you like the outcome or not, the reward is always there waiting. A consequence, or the product of your risk, can be anything.

So I’m still thinking of how to fit Kim Kardashian’s nude glistening butt into this puzzle. How can it be valuable, or meaningful?

The undiluted truth about it is that you must, beyond all temptation, be happy with whatever life gives you — even from behind the shadow cast by an overpaid Armenian celebrity. You must accept it. Because if you don’t, you will not succeed. And so long as this ass on the Internet dissatisfies you, you will never be happy. At least with the Internet.

Behind these circumstances that we are blessed with is a challenge of our ability to love. We must love this somehow, and I don’t mean worship or copyright or distribute it mindlessly. And to do so, we must establish a system to make that possible. The only alternative is fear, or hate, or unlove, and the destruction of your humanity, the enslavement of souls.

This is where my brain goes when I read Kim Kardashian response articles like this. I’m not in particular agreement that it’s an opportunity to convince our society that it must make a huge effort to de-sex digital content right now (apparently). It appears to be more-so an opportunity for high-traffic position websites to garner attention for themselves, and thrust a population of arm-chair activists into a narrow, impulsive discussion of an enormous issue that goes far, far beyond Kim Kardashian’s latest, and hopefully last grabs for legitimacy.

What Kim’s choice does is reveal that she fears being forgotten, or that she is perhaps confused as to her true value as a person. With her personal objectification aside, should we not also become more aware of almost all that which we are objectifying around us?

Women are not the only people or things at stake in this. We have stripped many things of their depth, and deprived many people of their humanity, and chosen to make the outer facade the only aspect that is known or seen, and thus ‘important.’

It means that we must try to think deeper. We can’t make that happen by decrying the choice of Kim Kardashian to objectify herself. We must make a better effort to respond accordingly. I don’t believe the best way to do so is to run back to the ‘objectification’ argument. The problem isn’t ‘them’, ‘those people’, ‘that industry’ objectifying the female or male — its ‘us’, who ‘we’ are, and how ‘we’ choose to respond to those that try to want it do seem so.

One simple way to start is not to let yourself ‘react.’
Instead, find a way to ‘respond.’ Be present, open and at least attempt to see the good. In almost all cases, it is only a moist booty reminding you that your definition of love needs an updating.

Don’t forget this, and please do not take it lightly. It’s a huge undertaking.

We know where we need to change constantly. We know because there is a war occurring both inside and outside of every one of us. And we must respond. Take the road that best suits your goals — the one that brings you to be your personal best.

But for the sake of us all, you better choose love.

Give It Up

With fear and trembling, seek salvation.

My grandmother grew up in a house with no heating system, like most immigrant children living in the United States during the Great Depression. Seeing my grandmother today, I do not speculate that this was one of the most trying times in human history in this country, but I feel as though it was the incubator for great courage — a time where simplicity and courage prevailed. A time where we had to make so much with so little.

I feel as though now, I am making so little with o-so much. And I feel as though that is what someone would like me to be — a worker with only the kind of value that is profitable, but not the type of worker that would create actual value, to the detriment of a monetary profit.

I sleep in a bed large enough for two people, which I would deeply love to share, in a room large enough for four people, which I would deeply love to share, in an apartment large enough for six people, which I would deeply love to share. There’s a great pain that beckons to return, that wishes to keep this all to myself, and I have the choice to share, to give it all up. Every day, I have the choice to sacrifice and more often than not, I choose not to.

Don’t take this as my testimony of a continuing habit but a realization of personal error. I’m happier knowing that I can admit to my past shortcomings rather than holding them inside, once knowing where they lie and how to flush them out. This is the major drawback of reflection — in knowing where the wounded memories sit, but being ignorant of how to dislodge them.

Like bullets embedded in a stone wall, I am slowly beginning to extract the slugs and catalog them, noting the damage, ready with the patching implements.

Today, I give the day to you.

“Human Sadness” by Julian Casablancas + The Voidz

“Human Sadness”

 

Put money in my hand

And I will do the things you want me to.

Vanity, overriding wisdom,
Usually common sense.

Should I delete it,
You said you’d read it
You promised you would never ruin it with sequels,

I wake for you, on and on

Beyond all ideas of right and wrong there is a field,
I will be meeting you there.

The moon’s a skull, I think it’s grinning
The room is full of people now I think it’s spinning

Wanted you, didn’t ask for nothing.
Wait for you, on and on

And I don’t need your tie, I don’t need to, tired of saying it.
We don’t need more talk, don’t empty out your canteen on the desert floor.
Ahhh, it’s all my fault

Never wanna spell it out,
I just want to say that it is all my fault,
I could never spit it out,
I don’t wanna fix your tie.

Never want to say we’re sad,
Thankful that we got some chance,
I know you won’t get back your time,
I wish that you could take it back.

Beyond all ideas of right and wrong there is a field,
I will be meeting you there.

He wanted it more than me, I suppose
I was in a rush to wait in a line.
Now I hear echoes of my old self,
This is not the way to be.
All at once,
I lost my way.

Is it not true, the things that we did?
Come here at once and look what they did
Come here shut down and tune in tonite,
Learn the words that they teach you without you realizing it
Come here sit down and watch some TV

Mine all mine, wait your turn,
Cross my cross, slice his hand,
Not your son, not your friend, not your enemy.

I rely on the little things to get me by,
Conscience says, “I’m okay”,
You don’t hear what they say.
“He’s not my son, search his home”
Off to war,
It’s time to go hide inside.

Soft skin,
Weak chin,
Just walk me thru it, tell me what to do I’ll do

Hurry hurry, that’s my baby
Ohh, do what you can.

All the time – he waits for me.
And now we talk from time to time,

Hits you on the head when nobody’s there,
Then he says, “come here could you fix my tie?”

It’s never gonna be,
To be is not the way to be.

Show me where to go, don’t get angry so quickly,
Fuck depression.

Beyond all ideas of right and wrong there is a field,
I will be meeting you there

Understanding is more important than love,
If not money will always trump justice

All is lost,
I’ll find my way.
So I say,
To be is not to be.
To be is not the way to be.

Settle

Anxiety. Depression. Restlessness.

I never feel satisfied.

I wish it would end. I wish a magic would cast itself on my life. But I have yet to discover a cure. Am I broken? Am I beyond repair?

I haven’t found what I’m looking for.

Medicine.

In my dreams I feel your hand in mine, and you are still reminding me. Even while I cannot feel your touch any more, I still remember how it meant to feel your grasp, your energy surging into my own. I remember how important that was to me, and how much it helps me now. I wish you could know right now. I wish I could tell you at this moment how much it means to me.

I wish I could tell you how much I need you now. But really, there is no purpose in feeling that past desire. I am feeling you guiding me, because your love never left me. It was waiting until I had pulled myself from the darkness. And when I emerged I saw you there standing on the horizon, and you caught the light ever so brilliantly with your well-considered attire, and I admired you for your choice for a moment until I felt you tug my hand, and we started running.

And then the wind started to flow beneath us, and I felt like I had begun to lift off of the ground, but it was only the sensation of letting go of the ground. My legs and arms and eyes could still feel the matter around me, but the matter around me no longer mattered. All that was guiding me was my heart, and the tugging of my energy as it mingled with yours.

The most beautiful feeling, even if in a dream, that tells me to believe. It tells me to keep going. It tells me that I still have time. And it tells me that I’m doing better.

I cried in front of you when I saw you again, because there was sheer grace in your presence, a wonder I have not felt in so long, a feeling of overwhelming appreciation for your eyes to meet mine in kindness. And when you told me you forgave me, the walls that surrounded me burst open, and I knew that I would never be alone again. I knew that I would be waiting, as you had done for me. I knew that my love for you would only grow.

“Please don’t cry.”

I have to tell you, I could not stop it. But it was not for sadness or despair. I cried for that pain leaving my body, for the darkness and despair that had been expelled from me at that moment. At that moment, I knew that the demons could not fight the man I am any more.

You gave me the wisdom to see the emotions I suppressed were destroying me and to destroy the negativity that held me back. You gave me your time to find the answers to all of my questions. You gave me courage to face the demons inside me, and the love to expel them. And I see what I am more clearly than I ever have before. I am the man you loved with all of your heart, a man that you saved, and within me I can feel your heart still beating beside mine. I feel again what it means to love you.

I cannot hide it anymore. I am not drunk or intoxicated by you, but elevated. I am free because of you. I feel my soul again, because of you, because you embody that which is the most gentle on Earth, the spirit of an unfathomable kindness.

“You can still be, who you want to, who you said you were, when I met you.”

We won’t know until the time is right.

And I will always be waiting.

Wisdom Wednesdays – Life’s Tractor Beam

Patience

Taking time to sit quietly and rest the mind is becoming more and more attractive to me. I haven’t had a peaceful mind in a long long time.

A Good Life Is Simple: August 21, 2014

My original plan for today was to wake up, clear my head, drink a glass of water, and hustle off to work with my father. 

Instead, at around quarter past seven this morning, I received a text message from him that read, “Can you go to your grandmother’s?  Your mom needs your help.”  

So for the rest of the day, I shared heartfelt and warming moments talking with my grandma about my resume, and her brothers and sister, and her mom and dad, and the difficult lives they led.  And she told me that she does not envy me or the people living in this world today.  “The age of ‘love thy neighbor’ is over,” she said, with my grandfather in agreement.

In these moments, I could see as clear as the perfect sky where I was falling short.  I could see the mistakes that defined my history, and the mistakes that defined my family, and the triumphs they wielded despite lifetimes of challenges and failures.  

And my grandmother told me exactly what’s been holding me back all of these years.  She knew I struggled to be happy, and that I floundered to find my way.  She said, “I love you dearly, but you made a mistake with your course of study.  You should have made yourself more marketable.”  And that if I were to ever be happy, I would need to change into the person I needed to be, the man I had been waiting to become.  The self I knew before is gone, because he was not truly a man, not truly human, but a crawling, meandering parasite.  I want to sprint now, to feel the wind beneath me, to always be aiming at the target. 

The sun will rise again tomorrow, said my great grandmother.  Her husband, my great grandfather passed away in his sleep, and she was left with five children – my grandmother included.  She could do nothing but bury him, perhaps not even mourn him.  She had no other choice but to survive, and to thrive for her children, who depended on her to act and to rise again.  And she told herself, after she buried her husband, like the heroes of centuries past before have done, “And tomorrow, the sun will rise again.”  Life will go on without you.  You must adapt, or you will be swept away by inaction.  Make it up on a spot, plan for it, whatever you do:  you must make sure that you do something.  

Back in those days, in the era of the Great Depression, there was hardly anyone with anything.  Everyone was trying to simply survive, and no one expected to be handed anything, or to be abundant, or to seek out their own personal individuality and happiness.  Absolutely not.  You were expected to act, to produce and to make something of yourself, regardless of the situation.   There were no complicated procedures, no convoluted marketing strategies for making yourself a success.  You were successful if you survived and provided, and with love, you were thriving. 

Nowadays, everyone has the attitude that there is a magic touch, a miracle germ that lies within every relationship and meeting and job that within some transaction in this life, there is a perfect one that will satisfy all of your desires and make you happy beyond your wildest dreams, and whisk you away to a flawless existence. 

There is nothing truly apparent of this personal pursuit which actually exists outside the human mind.  There is only the desire for that moment, a dream that we all share in our collective soul, which hopes that we will do our best, and achieve our goals to their very satisfying end.  

And those who came before us, who loved and struggled to create us, somehow neglected to guide us, perhaps feeling that the more we evolved.  And the intent was to impose less control on their offspring, to give them a good faith try at a better life.    

And now things have become unwieldy, and fragile, and there is so much surprise as to all the confusion occurring in the world today.  Because as things seemed to become more prosperous and abundant, we became intoxicated by the idea of letting our children roam free, with the faith that they would naturally pursue their destinies, and by doing so, parsed ourselves and any influence we could impose on them out of their lives completely. 

And now I struggle to be happy, and I struggle to make sense of myself, because I never knew who I wanted to be or what I needed to become.  I sometimes took the easy way if I could, even when I excelled, and if I could exploit a loophole, I would.  I did not grow up believing in the product of hard work and the happiness that comes with making an honest living.  I grew up believing that I needed to find myself and to be happy, and this led me astray.  And I experienced happiness in so many different ways, in the enclaves of other hearts and within the dreams of persons I loved.  I gave so much to so many people with little left for myself, because I felt that I had to change in order to adapt, or that I had to change to make other people happy and thus to make myself happy. 

I have to change now, and possibly disappoint people very close to me, because I made decisions for myself on their behalf, to do what I felt was right for them.  And I believed firmly that I could change to make them happy, to be the person they needed, but it has only brought me depression, confusion and despair.  I was not guided, by myself or anyone, into what I needed to be in order to be happy.  I was pushed to and from by the tumultuous forces of my many changing environments, which I hopped through frequently, because I felt that was the only way to find peace.  And I hopped into relationships, with little understanding of who I was, or what I was doing.  I was not following any formula or logical process for success, and I was not doing what felt right to me.  I was allowed to cast my boat from the dock with an ill-fated au revoir and a forced, unconfident smile, on a vessel which had no map or compass, no anchor or sail. 

And when I finally had a relationship or job that felt right, it would be reduced to ruin by my indecision and inconsistency.

And I am realizing now this is not the end.  This is the beginning.  My new life is starting as we speak, and it will spill upon these pages, and I will be brought back.  I will try to guide others who have been led down the unguided path, and console those that have lost their way.  I will try to be kind and understanding, and see the very best in people, and give all the love I can give, and be the very best person I can be. 

I will believe in the resiliency and adaptability of the human race, and try to look past its superficial shortcomings, and to love even those that hurt me.  I will suffer if it heals this world, if it heals even one person, and I will make myself into the man that my soul beckons me to be. 

Companies that never improve their products but sell tons anyway

I’m somewhat peeved after realizing that many companies in the United States design and release low quality products, every quarter of every year, that weaken the perception of a brand through the eyes of an average person.  And yet, they manage to sell millions.

Just like many bad actors can still get plenty of minor roles in Hollywood, a firm that possesses the ability to manage public perception while wrangling a tenacious share of its market with a weak product can turn a profit.  With some luck, a firm could drive a customer’s expectations down incrementally, while putting out the same basic product with the same ingredients, with those parts derived from lower quality and less costly avenues.  Let’s say cheaper water filtration in the facility is the answer or better yet, cheaper wholesale purified water. Customers can tell when quality or taste changes, and cutting costs in this way can make a noticeable impact on how customers view your product.

Bud Light has been doing this for a while, and so have the outliers in the Frat Party niche, like Rolling Rock and Natural Ice.  There are many more examples, and you know them.  Just stare into your liquor store’s beer cooler and lose yourself in this thought for a moment or three.

And thankfully, this segues perfectly into my latest experience with the newest summer shandy’s I’ve had this season.  And pretty soon, no one’s going to give a crap about shandy’s for another six months in New England because we’ll be cold and miserable again, drunk on vodka nips and gas station OJ.

Last night, I opened the mini-fridge that holds the last remaining condiments of the former apartment I lived in with my girlfriend. Inside, a forgotten six-pack of a Narragansett Brewing Company’s Del’s Shandy, a lemon flavored 16 oz can of awkward citrus married (unhappily) with the Narragansett Beer’s unremarkable lager.  It might not be what it is today if it weren’t the average New England hipster’s Bud Light fallback.

Dandy Shandy.

My harshest critique of the NBC is the brewery’s lack of a deeper local New England identity in its recent rekindled brand success.  The new owners maintained Narragansett’s original branding, a nod to the company’s founding and former headquarters in Rhode Island.  However, it could also be also act as a serious piece of the strange NBC identity crisis. The company also perpetuates the myth that keep the Narragansett nameplate relevant in a serious beer drinking market in the Ocean State.  If there wasn’t a tiny stinking hope that someday the company could run its main plants in RI, I doubt the brand would have achieved its renewed success in the local market.

The brewery has had plans to open a facility in Rhode Island since at least 2010, when they prospected several mills in the Pawtucket area.  Such a project never seemed to come to fruition, and only one location in the state, on 60 Ship Street in Providence, has a company office (not a brewing location).

Unfortunately, nothing is definitive when it comes to their search for real estate, but two things are known for sure:  NBC expressed that it wants to have a facility running by December 29 for their anniversary celebrations, and that they when they eventually open a facility, it will brew and package beer for draft sales only, and nothing in the traditional six-pack can or bottle segment that most people imagine busting out of a brewery.

Under this is the presumption that the majority of NBC’s brewing operations will remain in New York, close to its canning and bottling operations, while Rhode Island will remain a prime location for launching marketing events and advertisements.  At the same time, the agency allows word-of-mouth and the viral trendiness to spread the brand’s influence and drive sales at bars, clubs and liquor stores.

I hope I’ve shredded that Narragansett myth a bit, and get onto my point, if I can still recover it:  the lack of an improved product.

Despite the initial excitement for the Del’s Summer Shandy and the anticipation surrounding its release, the beer proved to be personally disappointing and deceivingly bubbly, almost off-putting for what you’d expect to sort of like lemonade.  Some reviewers have suggested a higher mix of lemon flavor, and I tend to agree.

I suggest jokingly that it takes only two people to create Del’s Shandy:  one who knows beer backwards and forwards, and one that knows Del’s lemonade just as much.  It took longer for the companies to consult on cannery and label designs for their collaborative summer release, I reckon.

I’m saying this in jest, of course.  Never would I imply that marketing and self-appearance could take priority over the development of a content quality.  Never!

‘Divergent’ posits a future detached from logic, yet achieves a satiric feat

Just to set my own head straight, my first attempt at a headline read:
“‘Divergent’ is like High School Musical’s Answer to ‘The Island’ and ‘Jason Bourne.'”
Sharing this with you is what I see as a necessary evil.  Or perhaps it’ll prove useful in the end?

The film ‘Divergent’ represents a visionary’s storyline that is unnaturally removed from its original medium, yet still makes true to its promise: to achieve the desired effect, which in this case is to encourage people to oppose the status quo.

It does this by laying the groundwork for the rational and often substantial philosophical grounds for rebellion and diversity.  What’s impressive is that the story makes this point naturally despite being steeped in a hodgepodge of modern young adult soundtracks, and weak, poorly delivered dialogue.

Beatrice Prior, or Tris, is ‘divergent,’ or what we call in this Universe, a liberal arts graduate with a wicked case of ADHD and a stellar background in modern combat.  She is a member of the faction known as Abnegation, who is forced to hide her true identity:  she is in fact what is called “divergent,” or embodying a perfect mixture of passions, talents, morals and perspectives in a society ruled by that washed up mentality that presumes every person’s place is chiseled out of the economic stone, and better determined in meetings filled with upper management types that exhibit psychotic symptoms that overstep the bounds of history’s most violent sociopaths.

It’s a seriously messed up situation.

And plus, that really awful war that decimated Western Civilization not long after our present day seems to elude conversation daily among the commoners — the majority of people who seem to still be graced with the presence of a free press.

This is sort of strange, seeing as the very totalitarians that run this society are allowing the very institutions to exist that would sow its own ruin if they let them.  What’s interesting is that the public in ‘Divergent’ is so very distracted that they don’t appear to realize their own governors running amok on a micro-managing kick, drunk on power and prospering under enormous veils of secrecy.

Wait, did I just draw the outline on ‘Divergent’s’ satirical shadow?  Or is the United States really as fabulous as my wholesome, Swiss-cheese like public education taught me it was?

Whilst wading through several make-out sessions and subtle displays of affection in awkward locations, the filtration can prove challenging.  But there are lessons buried just under the soft exterior of ‘Divergent,’ and with some persistence, you can bring them to the service.  And then steal the book from your kid and read it in a few nights before they notice.

I can certainly bet on the fact that I may be the only person to have chuckled as Tis battled killer birds and fish tanks in a state-induced acid trip, and with some of the most deadpan deliveries I’ve ever seen in such high-energy scenes.  My personal favorite line during that acid trip:  “This isn’t real.”  I know she was probably thinking out loud and all, but this is a sci-fi movie concerning the post-apocalyptic future of our country, and should be written like one, not like the young adult book that shares its name.

I would hope they’d attempt to mature their writing on the next iteration, but if they remain focused on delivering the film to only the young adult book-reading crowd, they’ll miss out on a potentially eye-opening opportunity to be creative with the story’s content, and possibly get a chance to attract an older crowd as well.

‘Divergent’ is rich with the makings of lifelong lessons and moral equations — decode them at your labor. 

Unless you’re a crusty cultural barnacle like the author,  you may sit down at your first helping of ‘Divergent’ and be completely content, and utterly uncritical, like any person in the 90’s watching an Adam Sandler movie would be.  You may in fact enjoy the film, and not bother yourself with the convoluted process of mentally deconstructing the very subtle moments of significance, or the labor of sifting through its extra hour of almost pointlessly extended hazing rituals, friends shot to death with little remorse, and close to a half dozen (call it seven) instances of non-lethal psychotropic injections.  The government would want you tripping balls 24/7, but can’t afford all the chemicals and smart people needed to make those drugs.  At least not until it applies for Obamacare.

“You don’t bring yourself up by bringing others down.”  
The victim of this proverb’s fatal lesson jumped to his death in shame after attacking the protagonist, who was mentally and physically advanced in comparison and would soon be outranking/exiling him.  After being threatened by her, the young man takes it upon himself to sabotage her impending victory by attempting to sneak attack her.  In the end, a superior intervenes to her aid, foiling the hopeless buffoon and sealing his fate.  This scene was one of my personal favorites, but I would name more if I didn’t have to make up for the sleep I’ve lost amid my decision to dissect this movie.

Thanks for reading, and good day to you!

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