My problem is that I keep waiting for a payoff.
A big paradigm shift, where my entire life seems to come together seamlessly, like in a dream where you end up in a completely different place with no clue as to why. I keep longing for this massive boost, but it slows me down. Why would my dreams come true now? It's obviously too early. It's like I picked a perfect spot to see the sunrise, set up my lawn chair, then found out it's only 1am. What am I doing here with so much desire? Don't I know that it's going to bring me down?
This is the part where I feel inclined to start telling myself that it's okay. That it's natural to want your career to improve and even more natural to be impatient about it. It might be good to swing back to my mantra for a second, to stay patient, to wrap my wounds in creative gauze and start getting back into my rhythm for as long as possible. That's what my intuition says to do. That would be nice if I didn't just call it out, effectively hamstringing myself into finding another way.
--------
I've realized lately that I'm much less emotionally stable than I thought I was. Not that I'm going crazy over here, I'm still okay, I just didn't really know how easily certain things would calm me down. Namely, food. I could take my entire morning commute inside of an existential-doubt-spiral, a patented 16 year old ultimate move, and by lunch I'm completely over it. Same thing on the way home, I could be stressed out the wazoo but feel zen after making a pot of mashed potatoes. This is something I didn't quite know about myself. Food can help cure emotions. Let's check in with my gut in 5 years, shall we?
It's not just food, it's all sorts of 'sugar'. Not just pop tarts, but mobile gaming and extra cups of coffee. It's the short term 'mmmh' feeling that kicks me back into it, but that needs to not be the case ASAP. I need the long term 'mmmh'. I want to be able to know that whenever I sit down to make something, to be creative, to put myself out there, that it's not just practice for when it really matters. I want it to mean something now.
There's a wash of shame that came over me, really quick, as if to remind me that this is the hole that I didn't want to find myself in. It's like my brain telling me "No shit, everyone wants their stuff read, everyone wants to be noticed, every writer wants people reading. No shit. No shit."
The cold truth is that I need to work harder if any of this is going to work. I don't need to forgive myself, I don't need self-care, I don't need an internet detox or a diet change or an exercise regime or a youtube-creators-course or a personal coach or anything that's outside of my own mind. I just need to do my shit daily and step it up. For real. For real, for real. Just step it up.
So that anxiety I feel on the way to work? Listen to it. Don't push it away, don't excuse it on to something or somebody else, listen to it hard. Sit in it, turn your music off if you need to. Why am I feeling the way that I feel, and what can I do about it? How can I make sure this happens less? What am I missing?
Monday, July 29, 2019
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
Digesting Patience
There's pressure happening. I need this to help me figure it out.
I can place partial blame on about 8 different things. Work.. sure, work is hard. Podcast, yea, there's more to be done. Writing and Ebay-ing and paying rent and managing plans.. All these little things seem to creep up every once in a while and then I'm tested. That's what it feels like now, another test.
Let me set the tone more accurately: I'm not doing too bad. At least, I don't think I am. I rattled my own confidence yesterday, which was just a lost battle in perspective. I allowed myself to indulge a "woe is me" mentality, then fought to regain control, then indulged again. I got frustrated at my coworkers, and boss, and myself. All over things that, ultimately, didn't really impact my life. That was work.
With my projects I feel like I'm falling behind, and so every moment I spend on myself in the present feels like I'm screwing over myself in the future. The balance is the hard part, since I know that going too fast is just as dangerous as slowing down to a halt. I've started off this race with momentum, and now I'm coming up on a series of hills. I feel like I'm either trudging up to the peak, or losing control on the way back down. Actually, right now it feels like both at the same time.
And that's where my anxiety is at. All these things, all at the same time. Part of me wants to quit my job and just figure it all out myself, but that's not going to happen. That's like being on a stranded island with half a raft, a hut with no roof, 3 days food supply, and pronouncing "Time to start giving out tours!" It's just not the time. It clearly is not.
So it's back to patience, which is always the game, and I'm back to where I started. Keep moving, trudge along, and see how far these things go. Be the old man power-walking at 7am, not the high-schooler running sprints.
Is that who I am? Am I the person to take it slow, or do I feel like I need to since it sounds really smart to do so? Am I the person to consistently take the advice of those who are older and wiser? "Patience" as a mantra did not come from inside of me, it was not materialized from my personal ambition and desire to achieve. It was a dangling fruit from the first tree I saw, in the direction pointed to by my parents. I picked this fruit and inspected it briefly, then ate the whole thing with my eyes closed. And now I sit at this tree, digesting it slowly, somehow surprised that nothing has yet happened. What was I expecting? That was the whole point.
And now that I've committed to this plan, at least in the sense that I don't have the willpower to fight the Lost-cost fallacy, I have to reevaluate my goals. Not just now, but constantly. What is it that I want? Do I just want some sort of change, now? Do I want my patience to be paid off somewhere, somehow, in any degree of success? Do I want to double down on myself, figuring out how to do more and face less anxiety? If I had to guess, I'd say the best thing for me would be to limit the amount of days that I doubt this grand strategy. If I've eaten the fruit, and those that love me have encouraged me to live this way, then is it not better to adapt within this reality than to throw it all out the window?
If I can focus all of my energy on not quitting, will things work out? Will the pieces come together smoothly, or do I need to take out a hammer and smash them together?
Self analysis, right now: I need to realize that there was never a correct path forward. That every single fruit on that tree, from "Backpack through Europe" to "Throw my phone into the ocean and become a farmer" to "Go to grad school" would all leave me in a similar magnitude of uncertainty. There was no magic answer, and certainly no way to ever know about it even if it did exist.
The only thing I can do is constantly look to myself for the answers. Am I doing what's right, for me? Am I dictating my life based on my head, or my heart? Can I take these moments of doubt and get through to the other side, battered and bruised but without injury, and find my way back to a daily life of enjoyment?
I think I can. I already feel better, in fact.
I can place partial blame on about 8 different things. Work.. sure, work is hard. Podcast, yea, there's more to be done. Writing and Ebay-ing and paying rent and managing plans.. All these little things seem to creep up every once in a while and then I'm tested. That's what it feels like now, another test.
Let me set the tone more accurately: I'm not doing too bad. At least, I don't think I am. I rattled my own confidence yesterday, which was just a lost battle in perspective. I allowed myself to indulge a "woe is me" mentality, then fought to regain control, then indulged again. I got frustrated at my coworkers, and boss, and myself. All over things that, ultimately, didn't really impact my life. That was work.
With my projects I feel like I'm falling behind, and so every moment I spend on myself in the present feels like I'm screwing over myself in the future. The balance is the hard part, since I know that going too fast is just as dangerous as slowing down to a halt. I've started off this race with momentum, and now I'm coming up on a series of hills. I feel like I'm either trudging up to the peak, or losing control on the way back down. Actually, right now it feels like both at the same time.
And that's where my anxiety is at. All these things, all at the same time. Part of me wants to quit my job and just figure it all out myself, but that's not going to happen. That's like being on a stranded island with half a raft, a hut with no roof, 3 days food supply, and pronouncing "Time to start giving out tours!" It's just not the time. It clearly is not.
So it's back to patience, which is always the game, and I'm back to where I started. Keep moving, trudge along, and see how far these things go. Be the old man power-walking at 7am, not the high-schooler running sprints.
Is that who I am? Am I the person to take it slow, or do I feel like I need to since it sounds really smart to do so? Am I the person to consistently take the advice of those who are older and wiser? "Patience" as a mantra did not come from inside of me, it was not materialized from my personal ambition and desire to achieve. It was a dangling fruit from the first tree I saw, in the direction pointed to by my parents. I picked this fruit and inspected it briefly, then ate the whole thing with my eyes closed. And now I sit at this tree, digesting it slowly, somehow surprised that nothing has yet happened. What was I expecting? That was the whole point.
And now that I've committed to this plan, at least in the sense that I don't have the willpower to fight the Lost-cost fallacy, I have to reevaluate my goals. Not just now, but constantly. What is it that I want? Do I just want some sort of change, now? Do I want my patience to be paid off somewhere, somehow, in any degree of success? Do I want to double down on myself, figuring out how to do more and face less anxiety? If I had to guess, I'd say the best thing for me would be to limit the amount of days that I doubt this grand strategy. If I've eaten the fruit, and those that love me have encouraged me to live this way, then is it not better to adapt within this reality than to throw it all out the window?
If I can focus all of my energy on not quitting, will things work out? Will the pieces come together smoothly, or do I need to take out a hammer and smash them together?
Self analysis, right now: I need to realize that there was never a correct path forward. That every single fruit on that tree, from "Backpack through Europe" to "Throw my phone into the ocean and become a farmer" to "Go to grad school" would all leave me in a similar magnitude of uncertainty. There was no magic answer, and certainly no way to ever know about it even if it did exist.
The only thing I can do is constantly look to myself for the answers. Am I doing what's right, for me? Am I dictating my life based on my head, or my heart? Can I take these moments of doubt and get through to the other side, battered and bruised but without injury, and find my way back to a daily life of enjoyment?
I think I can. I already feel better, in fact.
Monday, July 15, 2019
A snapshot. A pretty good snapshot.
Been a little while since I shook off all the muck.
Not that muckiness has been building up, or that I haven't had any sort of outlet. To tell the truth, things have been going well the last few weeks. I wish I was more consistent with my moods, but I'm not sure if that's something I can exactly will into existence. The only consistency I can actually have is that of my habits, my work ethic, and how I spend my free time. All of those things are in check, and I'll give them a 7/10 for the passed week. Not too shabby.
Living in my own apartment has more ups than downs, fortunately. I have to be a big boy now with my expenses, but that's just a matter of living within my means. no biggie. It's actually been pretty rewarding to shift into a more frugal mindset, to shop with purpose, to cost-benefit analyze my weekends and hobbies. It's made me realize the appeal of getting a good job, a fat paycheck, a high income. I enjoy where I'm at now, though, so I don't feel a pressure to prioritize having more. I guess I just don't judge people for working jobs that make them a lot of money the same way I used to.
It's funny how much judgement goes on for other people's careers. I don't feel that judgement towards myself, since I've become really good at explaining my workplace in a favorable or entertaining way. That's a luxury that I've crafted for myself, unique to people with a performative side and a storage of confidence fostered by good parents. For a lot of folks, there seems to be this highly binary and surface level discussion of what makes a good job. Is it soul-crushing, or are you passionate about it? Do you make a lot of money or not nearly enough?
This is somewhat of an ingrained conversation to me, stemming from the drastic difference of opinions of my long divorced parents. I was drinking from two pools simultaneously, the "stability leads to happiness" approach and the "Make passion your job and you'll never need to work" approach. At first, this was a perfect recipe for perpetual cognitive dissonance. Then, somewhere in college, I decided that neither one of them had merit at the exact same time. That's when I overbooked myself and worked very hard at a lot of things I didn't enjoy. It seriously put the "con" in contrapositive. that joke is amazing
So an unstable life doing things I don't enjoy... that's no bueno. I feel bad for the people who pursued finance jobs or other insanely demanding NYC jobs because they thought more money = more stability. I'm sure I don't need to preach on how that's not the case, since there's a thing as work/life balance, etc. The tough part, and what's interesting to me, is figuring out where all these concepts actually fit together. How do I pursue passions in a stable way? Actually, shit, it's not that hard. I'm already doing that. Introspection over, life solved, time to live up my 20's.
Nah, of course it's not that easy. At this point in time, though, I don't feel pressured to ask myself anymore about this. For real, no lie. I've gotten pretty good at pressing on the gas enough to keep things moving, but not so much as to lose control or take on too much. I have things on my agenda, some "extra curriculars" that need my attention, but truthfully I know that they're just opportunities to feel accomplishment one they're finished. That's, well, not too bad!
I'm coming out of a slump now, and it feels good to have some positivity to share again. This is just a snapshot, I still need to keep these things afloat of course, but for now I'll enjoy it. It's a beautiful day, too! Not too shabby.
Not that muckiness has been building up, or that I haven't had any sort of outlet. To tell the truth, things have been going well the last few weeks. I wish I was more consistent with my moods, but I'm not sure if that's something I can exactly will into existence. The only consistency I can actually have is that of my habits, my work ethic, and how I spend my free time. All of those things are in check, and I'll give them a 7/10 for the passed week. Not too shabby.
Living in my own apartment has more ups than downs, fortunately. I have to be a big boy now with my expenses, but that's just a matter of living within my means. no biggie. It's actually been pretty rewarding to shift into a more frugal mindset, to shop with purpose, to cost-benefit analyze my weekends and hobbies. It's made me realize the appeal of getting a good job, a fat paycheck, a high income. I enjoy where I'm at now, though, so I don't feel a pressure to prioritize having more. I guess I just don't judge people for working jobs that make them a lot of money the same way I used to.
It's funny how much judgement goes on for other people's careers. I don't feel that judgement towards myself, since I've become really good at explaining my workplace in a favorable or entertaining way. That's a luxury that I've crafted for myself, unique to people with a performative side and a storage of confidence fostered by good parents. For a lot of folks, there seems to be this highly binary and surface level discussion of what makes a good job. Is it soul-crushing, or are you passionate about it? Do you make a lot of money or not nearly enough?
This is somewhat of an ingrained conversation to me, stemming from the drastic difference of opinions of my long divorced parents. I was drinking from two pools simultaneously, the "stability leads to happiness" approach and the "Make passion your job and you'll never need to work" approach. At first, this was a perfect recipe for perpetual cognitive dissonance. Then, somewhere in college, I decided that neither one of them had merit at the exact same time. That's when I overbooked myself and worked very hard at a lot of things I didn't enjoy. It seriously put the "con" in contrapositive. that joke is amazing
So an unstable life doing things I don't enjoy... that's no bueno. I feel bad for the people who pursued finance jobs or other insanely demanding NYC jobs because they thought more money = more stability. I'm sure I don't need to preach on how that's not the case, since there's a thing as work/life balance, etc. The tough part, and what's interesting to me, is figuring out where all these concepts actually fit together. How do I pursue passions in a stable way? Actually, shit, it's not that hard. I'm already doing that. Introspection over, life solved, time to live up my 20's.
Nah, of course it's not that easy. At this point in time, though, I don't feel pressured to ask myself anymore about this. For real, no lie. I've gotten pretty good at pressing on the gas enough to keep things moving, but not so much as to lose control or take on too much. I have things on my agenda, some "extra curriculars" that need my attention, but truthfully I know that they're just opportunities to feel accomplishment one they're finished. That's, well, not too bad!
I'm coming out of a slump now, and it feels good to have some positivity to share again. This is just a snapshot, I still need to keep these things afloat of course, but for now I'll enjoy it. It's a beautiful day, too! Not too shabby.
Wednesday, July 3, 2019
Fishing for Confidence
Who would have thought that recording a podcast about Super Smash Brothers would help my mental health
I'm not as emotionally stable as I thought I was. I like to think it's just an age thing, and that every 23 year old is in a constant flux of enthusiasm and despair. Not that I wish this sort of discomfort on anybody, but it'd be nice to know that other people are equally fucked up.
Truthfully, I'm not doing that bad. Things are still where they were, no tragedy has befallen me, my finances are fine, most things are normal. What set me off yesterday was of such little consequence, such silliness in perspective that I'm almost embarrassed to talk about it. Lo and behold, I mentioned it while the recording light was on, and soon enough it will be out there for the world to judge. I guess I'm okay with that.
The short of it was that a house tournament called "Brooklyn Kumite 2" went down this sunday and I was brought on as a commentator. I was excited for the opportunity to get on the mic, have fun with the other invitees, play some games, entertain, commentate, watch good melee. Unfortunately, we were ill equipped to handle 4 people on a couch talking into a mic, and it was replaced with a room mic. We also didn't have a webcam on us at any point. I'm not sure when it really happened, since I got pretty drunk all day, but an anxiety started to bubble up in me and come Monday morning I was a nervous wreck of self doubt and insecurity. I reconsidered everything I had done to this point, compared myself to other people constantly, and had several bouts of panic about where any of this was headed. They weren't even fully fledged thoughts, no real questions of my motives or the possibility of my passions, zero clue of why I felt the way I did. I felt guilt about the anxiety, that my obligation was to bring about positivity, that my job was to have fun and participate, and that I was failing those around me. It sucked, it really did.
So I brought this up to Will last night, I don't really remember everything from the conversation, but I felt like some healing was done already. I didn't come up with any, like, solutions, but for now I'm relieved. I came to realize that writing is what I'm drawn to, it's what I actually enjoy. There's precedent for being a writer, not so much some other things. Not to say it's easy.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Next day.. Feeling, better?
I'm lucky to have these quick dips into the void, rather than long and drawn out soaks. I have my support system, stability in my relationship and job, and legitimately solid creative endeavors. I don't have a lot to ache for, unless I reach too hard in front of me. Then I metaphorical shoulder of ambition.
I'm not going to fault myself for feeling the way I did. There's no real lesson to be learned by self flagellation, no joy in it either. If there's one thing I've improved on over the years its the degree to which I criticize myself. That's to say I've eased up how often it happens, as well as how badly it hurts. I can't really be too mad at myself for how I handled my melancholic episode, since I allowed it to be where I was at and didn't try to force myself out of it. I wrote, I worked, I drove home and listened to Radiohead while laying in bed at 7 pm. That's the good-sad stuff, the single glass of wine while watching a favorite show. Instead of listing off all of my obligations, or the opposite, ignoring them completely, I allowed them to pop up in my head and let them drift off. Should they come back, fine. I need to handle it eventually, so I appreciate how they pop up from time to time to annoy me.
In other news, I was given an opportunity to submit articles to a well-established eSports brand for their website, so I'm going to do that. That's good. It's a good start.
No idea what the style will be, who I will become when representing something bigger than myself, but I'm sure it will be a good learning experience. Okay, that's it. Time to get to work.
I'm not as emotionally stable as I thought I was. I like to think it's just an age thing, and that every 23 year old is in a constant flux of enthusiasm and despair. Not that I wish this sort of discomfort on anybody, but it'd be nice to know that other people are equally fucked up.
Truthfully, I'm not doing that bad. Things are still where they were, no tragedy has befallen me, my finances are fine, most things are normal. What set me off yesterday was of such little consequence, such silliness in perspective that I'm almost embarrassed to talk about it. Lo and behold, I mentioned it while the recording light was on, and soon enough it will be out there for the world to judge. I guess I'm okay with that.
The short of it was that a house tournament called "Brooklyn Kumite 2" went down this sunday and I was brought on as a commentator. I was excited for the opportunity to get on the mic, have fun with the other invitees, play some games, entertain, commentate, watch good melee. Unfortunately, we were ill equipped to handle 4 people on a couch talking into a mic, and it was replaced with a room mic. We also didn't have a webcam on us at any point. I'm not sure when it really happened, since I got pretty drunk all day, but an anxiety started to bubble up in me and come Monday morning I was a nervous wreck of self doubt and insecurity. I reconsidered everything I had done to this point, compared myself to other people constantly, and had several bouts of panic about where any of this was headed. They weren't even fully fledged thoughts, no real questions of my motives or the possibility of my passions, zero clue of why I felt the way I did. I felt guilt about the anxiety, that my obligation was to bring about positivity, that my job was to have fun and participate, and that I was failing those around me. It sucked, it really did.
So I brought this up to Will last night, I don't really remember everything from the conversation, but I felt like some healing was done already. I didn't come up with any, like, solutions, but for now I'm relieved. I came to realize that writing is what I'm drawn to, it's what I actually enjoy. There's precedent for being a writer, not so much some other things. Not to say it's easy.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Next day.. Feeling, better?
I'm lucky to have these quick dips into the void, rather than long and drawn out soaks. I have my support system, stability in my relationship and job, and legitimately solid creative endeavors. I don't have a lot to ache for, unless I reach too hard in front of me. Then I metaphorical shoulder of ambition.
I'm not going to fault myself for feeling the way I did. There's no real lesson to be learned by self flagellation, no joy in it either. If there's one thing I've improved on over the years its the degree to which I criticize myself. That's to say I've eased up how often it happens, as well as how badly it hurts. I can't really be too mad at myself for how I handled my melancholic episode, since I allowed it to be where I was at and didn't try to force myself out of it. I wrote, I worked, I drove home and listened to Radiohead while laying in bed at 7 pm. That's the good-sad stuff, the single glass of wine while watching a favorite show. Instead of listing off all of my obligations, or the opposite, ignoring them completely, I allowed them to pop up in my head and let them drift off. Should they come back, fine. I need to handle it eventually, so I appreciate how they pop up from time to time to annoy me.
In other news, I was given an opportunity to submit articles to a well-established eSports brand for their website, so I'm going to do that. That's good. It's a good start.
No idea what the style will be, who I will become when representing something bigger than myself, but I'm sure it will be a good learning experience. Okay, that's it. Time to get to work.
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
You Ever Take Your Brain And Smush It Into a Bowl?
Hot damn it's coming down this morning!
I don't know why, but I always tend to feel like things are stagnating in my life when logically I know they aren't. Why is that? Is it because progress is usually very slow, and when we are inside of something it's difficult to really gain perspective on it?
Or is it that I'm not as committed as I need to be, in order to progress in what I'm trying to progress? Would I feel more confident in my journey if I had more achievements or milestones to point to and say "Look, I am on the right path. I know I'm doing well, because this was accomplished."
It seems unlikely that I just need an award or a threshold of viewers or readers or comments or likes. I already know this, and I know enough not to chase those types of rewards that exploit something in my brain, giving me a little dose of happiness and energy... Intellectually I know this. When I sit down and try to figure it out, that's when it's obvious. Day to day though, I'm always sucked in. When I have a good idea for a tweet and get excited when my notifications pop up, when I'm posting this stupid blog to Facebook and track how many people actually take a look. Why can't I stop it? Are there steps I'm missing here?
There's likely a middle ground I keep missing in the shuffle, a point where I can have my cake but only eat half. Maybe I'm on that right path, and as I swivel back and forth to finding my best direction I'm still heading forward, and that there is no perfect trajectory. The big fear is that I'm wasting time, and that the frivolous distractions of media will keep me from my potential. It's not unlikely. That's why it seems like I need to take drastic action from time to time. Why completing my habitual progression feels just like any other chore, on occasion. Why I want to feel like the things I'm doing are resonating with someone. The fear that the steps I'm taking are not enough, that just because I enjoy doing something doesn't mean it's worth the time. The fear is that a consistent journey will always be surpassed by someone smarter, and faster, and more passionate. Am I doing this all wrong?
Oftentimes I'll lean into this fear, taking it further and further until I'm on the verge of hopelessness. Why I do this is a mystery, perhaps an attempt of my subconscious to keep me from getting my hopes up. There's only so much a positive mindset can manifest into the world, no? Or maybe it's all backwards, and the only time I'm really set back is when I sit here and ponder my own aspirations. Or maybe I am in the middle of something great, a journey so magnificent that in retrospect this exact post will be so dramatically ironic that it becomes the focal point of a best selling biography. Who the fuck knows. All I know is that outside the rain has stopped, my negativity has been removed by the leech of self-expression, and my latest podcast is halfway done with its export. There's more to talk about.
I really have no idea what marketing is. A personal brand, a persona, a reputation, social media presence, all of these things confuse the shit out of me. I don't get it and I don't like it. The counter-cultural part of me is repulsed, finding the facade of Instagram unattractive, the brevity of Twitter unsatisfying and angry, the metrics of Facebook confusing. There's so much to be gained from these platforms, though, and the more time I spend bashing and avoiding them the less time I'm building something for myself. That's the shitty part here, that I'm both in complete control and failing in this aspect.
It just doesn't feel right, building my own brand. I hate those words, I'm averse to the concept, I'm intimidated by the competition, I'm unimpressed with the content I put up. It's a lot of negativity that I'm bringing to the table, and a stubbornness that I can make it work by putting words on a free, bland page and post it, pictureless, to my personal Facebook. Who do I think I am? Why would that possibly be enough?
Am I ashamed of what I'm writing? Maybe I don't think it's good enough yet. I started this blog by just writing posts and not sharing them anywhere, using it as a way to simply store my journal entries and practice writing as often as possible. Is that the only value here? Do I just need to be more patient, do what feels right, and in 5 years I'll be happy with what I did?
God, I must be unbearable. I legitimately tried to be positive for a hot second, and it went right back into my internal centrifuge of anxiety. That's alright, this is mostly for me. It always is. I won't be shameful about it.
All I can do is go back to the gameplan, and hope I'm doing things right. Trust the advice of those who want the best for me, stay financially, physically, and mentally stable. Have fun when I can, work hard often, and maybe uninstall Twitter.
Man, I fucking hate Twitter.
I don't know why, but I always tend to feel like things are stagnating in my life when logically I know they aren't. Why is that? Is it because progress is usually very slow, and when we are inside of something it's difficult to really gain perspective on it?
Or is it that I'm not as committed as I need to be, in order to progress in what I'm trying to progress? Would I feel more confident in my journey if I had more achievements or milestones to point to and say "Look, I am on the right path. I know I'm doing well, because this was accomplished."
It seems unlikely that I just need an award or a threshold of viewers or readers or comments or likes. I already know this, and I know enough not to chase those types of rewards that exploit something in my brain, giving me a little dose of happiness and energy... Intellectually I know this. When I sit down and try to figure it out, that's when it's obvious. Day to day though, I'm always sucked in. When I have a good idea for a tweet and get excited when my notifications pop up, when I'm posting this stupid blog to Facebook and track how many people actually take a look. Why can't I stop it? Are there steps I'm missing here?
There's likely a middle ground I keep missing in the shuffle, a point where I can have my cake but only eat half. Maybe I'm on that right path, and as I swivel back and forth to finding my best direction I'm still heading forward, and that there is no perfect trajectory. The big fear is that I'm wasting time, and that the frivolous distractions of media will keep me from my potential. It's not unlikely. That's why it seems like I need to take drastic action from time to time. Why completing my habitual progression feels just like any other chore, on occasion. Why I want to feel like the things I'm doing are resonating with someone. The fear that the steps I'm taking are not enough, that just because I enjoy doing something doesn't mean it's worth the time. The fear is that a consistent journey will always be surpassed by someone smarter, and faster, and more passionate. Am I doing this all wrong?
Oftentimes I'll lean into this fear, taking it further and further until I'm on the verge of hopelessness. Why I do this is a mystery, perhaps an attempt of my subconscious to keep me from getting my hopes up. There's only so much a positive mindset can manifest into the world, no? Or maybe it's all backwards, and the only time I'm really set back is when I sit here and ponder my own aspirations. Or maybe I am in the middle of something great, a journey so magnificent that in retrospect this exact post will be so dramatically ironic that it becomes the focal point of a best selling biography. Who the fuck knows. All I know is that outside the rain has stopped, my negativity has been removed by the leech of self-expression, and my latest podcast is halfway done with its export. There's more to talk about.
I really have no idea what marketing is. A personal brand, a persona, a reputation, social media presence, all of these things confuse the shit out of me. I don't get it and I don't like it. The counter-cultural part of me is repulsed, finding the facade of Instagram unattractive, the brevity of Twitter unsatisfying and angry, the metrics of Facebook confusing. There's so much to be gained from these platforms, though, and the more time I spend bashing and avoiding them the less time I'm building something for myself. That's the shitty part here, that I'm both in complete control and failing in this aspect.
It just doesn't feel right, building my own brand. I hate those words, I'm averse to the concept, I'm intimidated by the competition, I'm unimpressed with the content I put up. It's a lot of negativity that I'm bringing to the table, and a stubbornness that I can make it work by putting words on a free, bland page and post it, pictureless, to my personal Facebook. Who do I think I am? Why would that possibly be enough?
Am I ashamed of what I'm writing? Maybe I don't think it's good enough yet. I started this blog by just writing posts and not sharing them anywhere, using it as a way to simply store my journal entries and practice writing as often as possible. Is that the only value here? Do I just need to be more patient, do what feels right, and in 5 years I'll be happy with what I did?
God, I must be unbearable. I legitimately tried to be positive for a hot second, and it went right back into my internal centrifuge of anxiety. That's alright, this is mostly for me. It always is. I won't be shameful about it.
All I can do is go back to the gameplan, and hope I'm doing things right. Trust the advice of those who want the best for me, stay financially, physically, and mentally stable. Have fun when I can, work hard often, and maybe uninstall Twitter.
Man, I fucking hate Twitter.
Friday, June 21, 2019
Friday
Friday....
Friday Friday, Friday. Friday..!
Friday?
Finally Friday!
Haiku's aside, Fridays always bug me out for a second. This morning I thought it was Saturday but I had forgotten to get paid. Seems like money's on my mind, and also I assumed that I had such a crazy night that I blacked out for a whole day. That's the type of party person I am, poor and wild.
I like getting drunk. I think I'm good at it. It's not that hard to be social when you drink, I know, so there's nothing I should be really bragging about. I do think that I have trained well in the art of having intoxicated fun at bars, as it was my most valuable lesson from the 4 years in Oneonta State College.
First off, I'm really good at getting peer pressured. Super good at it. Chugging a beer, taking a shot, if anything that will escalate the night is asked of me then chances are I will do it. Unless I'm close to throwing up. I'm insanely good at knowing my vomit limit, my spew line, my Demilitarized-Zone of puke. I might be easy to pressure, but when I'm one drink away I will back off. It's my Superpower.
I also know like 3 party tricks. I can catch things in my mouth, juggle, and freestyle when the time calls for it. It might sound like I'm putting together a resume for the worst movie in the world, but screw it, this is who I am. If things are getting boring (These are pregame tricks only, don't start a rap circle at a public place) I'll be like "Who want's to play grapes?" and then my friend's girlfriend's friend's boyfriend, who's now my best pal in the world, will pipe up like "What's that, J-Dawg?" and then he will throw grapes into my mouth from across the room while nobody watches. It will be fun for us, though. That's all that matters.
I'm a good listener too, before I get too wasted. I've found that when you can break through the first few minutes of meeting somebody, you can get them rolling on something interesting or personal and it becomes a fun conversation. Nobody wants to be boring, nobody wants to do small talk all night, so I try and get them to say some weird shit. There's an art to that, too, and listening intently is the biggest factor. Are they talking about their job? Did they bring up a coworker in a dismissive or slightly bitter tone? I'll be all like "Aww, you hate this Cathy person don't you? Fuck Cathy!" And they'll be all like "YYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH" And literally turn into He-Man, Gain the power of Grayskull, and start rattling off thirty ways why they hate Cathy. Those are my favorite times, cause it feels like I just cracked the code into the world's most interesting Jukebox. Plus, I gain the social credit needed to complain about my own workplace. It's a win-win, baby!
I think my favorite part of the night is the points in between locations, like between the pre-game and the first bar and all the hopping in between. Those are the best, when the whole crew comes out and we count our losses. Great idea, everyone in the party should be given a dog-tag so when they decide to split from the group they can give it to the host and they know it's over. Then outside a bar it's like "OkAY. ALRIGHT WHo do we HAve? One... Five... Thirteen, Plus three dog tags, that's sixteen! HOW many did WE STArt With?" You know, responsibility.
And the late night food, holy shit. That's the most magical moment in the world. That's the moment when you know it's over, when you can hang your hat up and put on your bib, then go to town on something that is absolutely not the correct thing to eat. I'm salivating already, imagining the Oneonta specialties that call to me this very day. My favorite was something called the Gooch Special, which was pulled pork on a hot dog bun, with Mac n' cheese on top, then garnished with crushed Fritos. My my, what a delectable treat. I look forward to the day where a food truck at 2AM sells something more perfect than that, but for now I'll settle with pizza.
What I miss most about College, though, is the mornings after a good rager. When I could sit around with my buddies, hung-over as all hell, going through Snapchats and trying to piece together the weird shit that went down. Those moments brought it all together, linked my normal state of sobriety with the exceptional stupidity and brazenness of my drunk-self. To know that the shortcomings I have normally can go away with a few ounces of liquid, and that I will always be appropriately punished for it. The instant nostalgia and humility of a hangover does something to a person that seems... healthy? Man, this is edging close to some terrible life advice. Who cares, drinking is fun.
So yes, tonight we party. And I'm excited for it, I guess. I'm into it Intellectually, like I know it'll be fun, but it's a bit too early to be into it spiritually. Physically I'm always ready, but my body is the one taking the punishment so I wouldn't say he's too pumped.
Anyway, see me in White Plains tonight. I'll be the drunk juggler rapping outside the bars.
Friday Friday, Friday. Friday..!
Friday?
Finally Friday!
Haiku's aside, Fridays always bug me out for a second. This morning I thought it was Saturday but I had forgotten to get paid. Seems like money's on my mind, and also I assumed that I had such a crazy night that I blacked out for a whole day. That's the type of party person I am, poor and wild.
I like getting drunk. I think I'm good at it. It's not that hard to be social when you drink, I know, so there's nothing I should be really bragging about. I do think that I have trained well in the art of having intoxicated fun at bars, as it was my most valuable lesson from the 4 years in Oneonta State College.
First off, I'm really good at getting peer pressured. Super good at it. Chugging a beer, taking a shot, if anything that will escalate the night is asked of me then chances are I will do it. Unless I'm close to throwing up. I'm insanely good at knowing my vomit limit, my spew line, my Demilitarized-Zone of puke. I might be easy to pressure, but when I'm one drink away I will back off. It's my Superpower.
I also know like 3 party tricks. I can catch things in my mouth, juggle, and freestyle when the time calls for it. It might sound like I'm putting together a resume for the worst movie in the world, but screw it, this is who I am. If things are getting boring (These are pregame tricks only, don't start a rap circle at a public place) I'll be like "Who want's to play grapes?" and then my friend's girlfriend's friend's boyfriend, who's now my best pal in the world, will pipe up like "What's that, J-Dawg?" and then he will throw grapes into my mouth from across the room while nobody watches. It will be fun for us, though. That's all that matters.
I'm a good listener too, before I get too wasted. I've found that when you can break through the first few minutes of meeting somebody, you can get them rolling on something interesting or personal and it becomes a fun conversation. Nobody wants to be boring, nobody wants to do small talk all night, so I try and get them to say some weird shit. There's an art to that, too, and listening intently is the biggest factor. Are they talking about their job? Did they bring up a coworker in a dismissive or slightly bitter tone? I'll be all like "Aww, you hate this Cathy person don't you? Fuck Cathy!" And they'll be all like "YYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH" And literally turn into He-Man, Gain the power of Grayskull, and start rattling off thirty ways why they hate Cathy. Those are my favorite times, cause it feels like I just cracked the code into the world's most interesting Jukebox. Plus, I gain the social credit needed to complain about my own workplace. It's a win-win, baby!
I think my favorite part of the night is the points in between locations, like between the pre-game and the first bar and all the hopping in between. Those are the best, when the whole crew comes out and we count our losses. Great idea, everyone in the party should be given a dog-tag so when they decide to split from the group they can give it to the host and they know it's over. Then outside a bar it's like "OkAY. ALRIGHT WHo do we HAve? One... Five... Thirteen, Plus three dog tags, that's sixteen! HOW many did WE STArt With?" You know, responsibility.
And the late night food, holy shit. That's the most magical moment in the world. That's the moment when you know it's over, when you can hang your hat up and put on your bib, then go to town on something that is absolutely not the correct thing to eat. I'm salivating already, imagining the Oneonta specialties that call to me this very day. My favorite was something called the Gooch Special, which was pulled pork on a hot dog bun, with Mac n' cheese on top, then garnished with crushed Fritos. My my, what a delectable treat. I look forward to the day where a food truck at 2AM sells something more perfect than that, but for now I'll settle with pizza.
What I miss most about College, though, is the mornings after a good rager. When I could sit around with my buddies, hung-over as all hell, going through Snapchats and trying to piece together the weird shit that went down. Those moments brought it all together, linked my normal state of sobriety with the exceptional stupidity and brazenness of my drunk-self. To know that the shortcomings I have normally can go away with a few ounces of liquid, and that I will always be appropriately punished for it. The instant nostalgia and humility of a hangover does something to a person that seems... healthy? Man, this is edging close to some terrible life advice. Who cares, drinking is fun.
So yes, tonight we party. And I'm excited for it, I guess. I'm into it Intellectually, like I know it'll be fun, but it's a bit too early to be into it spiritually. Physically I'm always ready, but my body is the one taking the punishment so I wouldn't say he's too pumped.
Anyway, see me in White Plains tonight. I'll be the drunk juggler rapping outside the bars.
Thursday, June 20, 2019
Short and Sour
I'm facing a little bit of a problem... It's an internal one, a problem that most artists (or as we call them today, content creators) face I'd assume. What's going through my mind is a dilemma of wanting people to read what I'm writing (consume my content) while still remaining true to myself in all the work that I do.
These thought loops always get to me. Right now, at 6:40AM on the fourth rainy day in a row, this is when I need to bring forth my own optimism. Something to counteract the barrage of doubt coming from one side of my brain to attack the other. The easier part now, as opposed to when I was 19, is that I know how universal these doubts are. The thoughts of not being good enough, or not understanding the industry, or coming to terms with advertising oneself as a commodity rather than a fully fledged human. These are modern problems in the platform of blogging or *sigh* content, but this has been the artists' struggle since as long as there's been artists. And there's been art since as far back as the 1960's, from what I've heard.
(I only consider people who do LSD to be artists. Sorry Beethoven)
So what? Like, really, what am I getting up in arms about? There are easy ways to push this forward and become more legitimate. There's still value in writing things that people don't read, as long as I come to terms that they might read it one day. But writing just for myself is.. it's just not the point. I like being heard. I used to be ashamed of that, thinking that true art is to be crafted from the tortured solitude of a misanthropic genius, that anybody outside of that mold would be settling for less and creating incorrectly. That the appeal to the "masses" is inherently wrong, and any attempt to justify the desire for our art to be seen is to turn a blind eye to the evils of capitalism destroying any sort of true creativity.
And look, I'm not here to talk about capitalism. Well, I don't know, maybe I am. Maybe every artist has to really understand it, come to terms with it, possibly even learn to love it.
Is the free market anti art? It doesn't hate creativity, that's for sure. Right now there's a huge push for authenticity, something novel in our culture and undoubtedly in parallel with the value of artists. So now, in 2019, what is there to dislike about capitalism? What is actually wrong with a system designed the way it is now, with 10 platforms to distribute our art for free, for billions of people to potentially see us, for a living to be made from the comfort of our own swivel chair?
What's wrong is what has always been wrong, except it's easier. It's not free, it's not easy, but it's much easier compared to when art began in the 60's. I think what's scary for me is the idea of failure within this system is that much more embarrassing. Not because my friends or family will see me fail, but in my own head if I can't make this work then maybe I'm just not cut out for it. If I can't make my writing become something valuable in this context then perhaps it is just valueless.
It's a weak mindset. As pumped up and excited I was last week, this week is certainly a valley. I need to stay patient, work hard in my day job and side gigs, and do what I love. Sometimes I just need to remind myself.
It's hard though, man. Sometimes it just gets hard.
P.S
I got some good feedback on my post yesterday. I'm gonna sit on it for a little bit before hitting on the topic of Melee finances again.
These thought loops always get to me. Right now, at 6:40AM on the fourth rainy day in a row, this is when I need to bring forth my own optimism. Something to counteract the barrage of doubt coming from one side of my brain to attack the other. The easier part now, as opposed to when I was 19, is that I know how universal these doubts are. The thoughts of not being good enough, or not understanding the industry, or coming to terms with advertising oneself as a commodity rather than a fully fledged human. These are modern problems in the platform of blogging or *sigh* content, but this has been the artists' struggle since as long as there's been artists. And there's been art since as far back as the 1960's, from what I've heard.
(I only consider people who do LSD to be artists. Sorry Beethoven)
So what? Like, really, what am I getting up in arms about? There are easy ways to push this forward and become more legitimate. There's still value in writing things that people don't read, as long as I come to terms that they might read it one day. But writing just for myself is.. it's just not the point. I like being heard. I used to be ashamed of that, thinking that true art is to be crafted from the tortured solitude of a misanthropic genius, that anybody outside of that mold would be settling for less and creating incorrectly. That the appeal to the "masses" is inherently wrong, and any attempt to justify the desire for our art to be seen is to turn a blind eye to the evils of capitalism destroying any sort of true creativity.
And look, I'm not here to talk about capitalism. Well, I don't know, maybe I am. Maybe every artist has to really understand it, come to terms with it, possibly even learn to love it.
Is the free market anti art? It doesn't hate creativity, that's for sure. Right now there's a huge push for authenticity, something novel in our culture and undoubtedly in parallel with the value of artists. So now, in 2019, what is there to dislike about capitalism? What is actually wrong with a system designed the way it is now, with 10 platforms to distribute our art for free, for billions of people to potentially see us, for a living to be made from the comfort of our own swivel chair?
What's wrong is what has always been wrong, except it's easier. It's not free, it's not easy, but it's much easier compared to when art began in the 60's. I think what's scary for me is the idea of failure within this system is that much more embarrassing. Not because my friends or family will see me fail, but in my own head if I can't make this work then maybe I'm just not cut out for it. If I can't make my writing become something valuable in this context then perhaps it is just valueless.
It's a weak mindset. As pumped up and excited I was last week, this week is certainly a valley. I need to stay patient, work hard in my day job and side gigs, and do what I love. Sometimes I just need to remind myself.
It's hard though, man. Sometimes it just gets hard.
P.S
I got some good feedback on my post yesterday. I'm gonna sit on it for a little bit before hitting on the topic of Melee finances again.
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