In the summer of 2018 I decided to start a personal blog + journal. In it I chronicle life anecdotal, entwining the thought life + writing life into a double helix of no frills fun. Why take it so seriously anyhoot ? I’m not trying to monetize this. For me it’s for me, yet for you too. How can it not be ? I know what they say, write like nobodies watching, and I do. I’ve never honestly held the opinions of men with much high regard. I found most people were 90% predictive in their behavioral patterns. They loved to breath negative and destroy anybody who didn’t subscribe to a religion of fear and hate.
But you see I’m a creative being, I’ve always been an artiste + a writer since the first day. And I firmly believe in order to really be such you need to have a inner reservoir of love, light, and laughter. The world’s already chock full of these yuppie type artists who smear fecal matter on canvas and call it art and want people to buy it for exorbitant prices. But pretentiousness aside all art and creativity has nothing to do with the seal of approval of those who cannot do, create, or perform. Nobody requires these middle men who are charlatans looking to get rich off of the blood, sweat, and tears of the truly ingenious, talented and bright brothers and sisters of the pen or the brush. Different strokes for different folks indeed, and weapons of mass creation may differ in technique and methodologies but ultimately strive for the attainment of perfection through vehicles of imperfection which is ourselves.
For all of the kudos, mad props and admiration of creativity we live in a genuinely anti-creative world. We celebrate tech like it’s the end all be all but yawn when something impressive and beautiful is birthed. Coding isn’t creativity, it’s a framework of predictability using logic and field tested language blocks that developers snap together into apps and websites. It’s not really praiseworthy in my opinion. Indeed all I ever see is that the world of coding is full of insecure, often arrogant and intellectually vain people who are hyper competitive to be perceived as geniuses. What this really is is a deeper need for validation, love, acceptance and you can’t get that through such means. If I create something awe inspiringly beautiful and it touches somebody…that is good and well, but they can do better than this I tell them. I don’t ever create with the goal of inspiring envy in others which seems to be the case in many respects. A hyper aggressive competitiveness that goes beyond normalcy. I heard one developer actually say that web development was a “lifestyle”. It isn’t, it’s just a means of income. It doesn’t define who I am, nor should it. Art doesn’t do that, poetry doesn’t, cello doesn’t. These facets are simply tools, vehicles, and paths in my own life, they aren’t what makes me me.
Society tends to instill these types of values in people without any. It conveys a false sense of worth, meaning, purpose that is altogether deceptively illusory. Do this and be fulfilled, act this way for some great reward that never comes. If you just keep trying you’ll make it, you’ll beat all your competitors like your life is a reality tv show (it isn’t). Burn out is what follows, stress, disappointment, anguish, loneliness, despair, and depression are the side effects of this.
I started to ponder recurring themes in my own personal handwritten journals which I started collecting recently not because it’s “trendy” now, I’ve been a writer since I could pick up a pen. I’ve simply resuscitated it because its therapeutic, it’s a good tool for self discovery. Some do it for various reasons such as to impress others, to seem more artful and beautiful, or to actually get real with themselves. For me it’s a mixed bag. There’s something very frighteningly nostalgic and powerful when you go back in time in your journal and read a page of what you did on this date last year, and how different you feel now as opposed to then.
But I didn’t want to inundate myself with useless minutiae. A habit I’ll admit I’ve adopted from having read the Vampire Chronicles in high school which were sources of inspiration and distraction for me. Everybody in high school during the 80’s couldn’t be quiet about Anne Rice, I even visited her home in the Garden District when I first traveled to the Big Easy back when I was but a young impressionable bright eyed lad. I was reading books about some Dark Elf ranger named Drizz’t Do’Urden too while ad&d was my guilty indulgence.
I have much to say, and my tone now is refined a bit, my words might be edgy and deep because I am. I know that now, I’m okay with it, I’ve accepted it. I live in a world thats constantly bombarding you and I with the wrongful, deceptive message that it knows who I am and aren’t better than myself. The war within is constant and brutal and only the Almighty himself can help a man through the thick of life’s seasons and raging storms, of which I am all too familiar. For most of my life I’ve been like so many living with a victim mentality that burned. Why am I not the best ? The brightest ? The richest ? The most attractive/intelligent/greatest at everything under the sun. The world and life continues to dangle these carrots that lead us off the path we were purposely designed to embark upon, and that road isn’t easy and it isn’t problem free. We all labor tremendously to ensure better times, but cannot do anything to shape and manipulate the future. We are variables swimming in a sea of variables, that’s the math of life right there. If we then are completely powerless to sway things in our favor what was the use in even trying ? Which I had warred with all my fury to do all the days of my life, hating failure and rejecting defeat out of stubborn pride. I had a Bruce Lee type of vengeance against such things, a certain kind of fanaticism of life that raged on and was incurable. It was partially madness and an indescribable pain of helplessness.
There’s the glass half empty and half full camp. On one side people count all that they have, the other they count all that they don’t. I was somewhere in the middle of it. I realized materialism didn’t sustain me, the accumulation of things and adulation of others didn’t affect me. I only had a desire to lead a quiet life away from notice of others, away from attention seekers and the people playing this popularity reality show in their heads…bumping into walls and each other and coltishly trying to keep abreast of all that other lotus eaters pine after. Each trying to win fake love, never giving fake love, never knowing true love.
So herein I seek to encapsulate and write things well with a modicum of love and life and some of my best jokes and of course things which may inspire and delight. I pray this finds you well and can be a small token of light unto you. Thank’s for stopping by !