The King Of Deprecation

Quick Takes: One Thing At A Time

2010-04-23T14:03:00.000-06:00

I've been rather hyped-up on self-discovery and analyzation in the last two years.

So, in early 2009, I was quite excited to feel that I made some sort of breakthrough and solved a piece of my life-puzzle.

It goes like this:

A) I was feeling extremely depressed and unhappy with almost everything.
B) I wanted to find a solution to my depression.
C) The one thing I could think of that made me happy was being creative.
D) Therefore to me, being creative was akin to being happy.
E) And, therefore, I decided to do as many creative projects as possible in 2009.
F) That would solve everything and I would be happy.

Makes sense, no?

If I recall the moments in my life where I feel the most positive, it would be those moments where I am working on new music (generally for myself).

So, with that theory in mind, I set out to incorporate as many new forms of creative self-expression into my life.

I began writing more, working on humorous t-shirt ideas, coming up with web comic ideas (which have not come to light yet since lo-ku beat me to the punch!) and starting a series of new musical side projects.

Yeah! That will keep me busy. And more importantly, it will help to alleviate my crippling depression.

Right?

Wrong.

Wrong? Why?

A month or so ago, I figured out another key element to that puzzle that was out of place.

Through the process of overloading myself with as many projects as possible, I began to notice that I got less done. In fact, a lot less. My mind was scattered across multiple ideas, and had trouble focusing. I was intimidated and had trouble starting any of them.

Also, at my day job, I took on some new tasks for a while that soon proved something that I had not known about myself:

I am not a multitasker.

Nope.

After several life examples of my non-multitasking (or shite) abilities, I saw that I am at my best when I have a single goal to focus my mind on, otherwise, I get overwhelmed with options and possibilities, and then nothing gets done.

So my goal of doing as many creative projects as possible as a solution to my depression was a good one; but it left out one important discovery about the kind of person I am.

A uni-tasker.

So, are YOU really a multitasker?

Quick Takes: Stupid People

2010-04-15T15:12:00.000-06:00

I bumped into an old acquaintance, and began, against my will, a dull small-talk conversation.

This situation was bad for two reasons:
1) I'm irritated by small-talk
2) I thought this girl was an idiot

Regardless of my feelings for this person (or lack thereof) I played nice, and kept up the conversation. But for my own amusement, I tried to see what interesting psychological observations I could pull out from her.

As we awkwardly chatted about what we've been up to, the topic steered into her work, and her frustrations of dealing with her co-workers:

"It's just like everybody else just doesn't get it, you know? I have all these ideas, but no one else can understand them. It's just so irritating!"

I feigned understanding, and nodded as if in agreement. She continued.

"I just hate working with stupid people, you know?"

I stared at her for a moment with my eyes wide and one eyebrow raised, before I caught myself and returned to a look of understanding (while holding back a laugh).

Did she really say she hates stupid people?

Is she aware that she, in my opinion, is an idiot?

Which got me thinking.

I bet everyone, if asked, would say they hate stupid people. Even those that you and I would find impossibly stupid, would say they hate stupid people. No matter how stupid you may appear to be to others, there are always those that are stupider than that. And even THOSE people hate stupid people!

What a funny example of our flawed self-perceptions. We generally like to think of ourselves as smart, or deep, or interesting, but are we?

If this little fictitious hierarchy of the ever-stupider has any merit, then to someone, somewhere, you, yourself, are a complete idiot too.

Yes, think about that. Regardless of your personal convictions, to someone, you are a fucking moron.

I guess we're all stupid then, or no one is.

Idiot.

Quick Takes: What Does It Mean?

2010-04-09T15:33:00.000-06:00

It was one of the coldest nights of the whole winter; somewhere below zero.

I finished work that evening, headed out to my car in the parking lot, opened the door and turned the key.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

I paused for a second, eyes slowly widening, and tried it again.

"C'mon damnit! You started fine today!"

Again, not a sound, not a click, not a rev.

After some phone calls made in vain, I grabbed the shipment of books that I had picked up earlier from the post office, zipped up my not-made-for-real-winter leather jacket and started on my walk home.

As I walked through the the frigid arctic weather that instantly froze my eyebrows, I began to wonder about the situation.

"What an awful time for my car to die on me," I thought out loud.

And it was, no doubt about that.

Pushing on through the bitter cold, the analyst in me kept pushing for a reason behind my current circumstances.

"I wonder why this happened now? Is this something bigger than I think it is? Is this, perhaps, a sign of some sort? Whoa... maybe it is. What could I have done to bring this on?"

I glanced down at the parcel I was carrying. It contained several books on atheism, critical thinking, logic and science. I laughed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked myself as I realized the error in my thinking.

Sure, my car did not start up that night, and on quite and inopportune one to boot. But what about the other thousand times it started up fine? Were those a sign of something too? If not, why not?

Cars are mechanical devices which will eventually be prone to break down. It just happens. No cosmic significance, no fate, no supernatural intervention.

We are all prone to errors in thinking. No exceptions. Just because we WANT there to be purposeful reasons behind our world, especially when we do not understand them, does not mean that there are.

It's a wonderful lesson in humility to understand that not every minute detail of the universe is aimed at teaching me, an insignificant sarcastic elitist, about some trivial aspect of my life.

So what does it all mean?

Absolutely nothing. Now finish walking home, and go fix your car.

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Quick Takes: Think Positive!

2010-04-01T15:49:00.000-06:00

I had been beset by two abdominal hernias within a few months of each other, almost went completely broke, was still reeling from an emotional relationship breakup, and was becoming so depressed and bitter about life I had recently contemplated suicide.

Needless to say, good times.

Even with all of the shit I've experienced in the last two years, I really hate emotional pandering.

Recently, someone asked me a very traditional and unassuming thing:

"Hey, Niko. How are you."

I stared at them with a subtly changing expression that conveyed my conflicting emotional state.

"Ehhhh..." I said, shrugging.

They looked concerned. (Why I don't know, as I usually respond it such a manner).

"Why is that?" She asked.

I touched lightly over the idea that I was completely unhappy with my life in general.

She seemed to sympathize with me, but added, "Yeah, but you gotta think positive, you know?"

.....Wait, what did you just say?

Think positive?!

Why?!

What are people really saying when they tell you to "think positive"?

To me, this idea of thinking positive, just for the sake of thinking positive, is in error.

Telling me to think positive about something, is, in a way, like telling me to be in denial about all of the facts of the given situation.

"Be in denial!"

Hmmm, you know what? No thanks.

Sure, I probably skew things too far in favor of the negative, and that's not mentally healthy either. Both perspectives are equally biased.

Thinking positively about something that is unlikely to turn out positively will potentially lead to your disappointment. (Disappointment is bad, remember?)

My goal is to learn how to think realistically and clearly, with as little emotional bias as possible.

Sure we always WANT things to turn out for the best, but that does not mean that they always do.

Life is full of both positive and negative experiences, and many colors in between. To only look at it from one perspective gives you blinders, effectively keeping out most of the real content of life.

I know she meant well by telling me to "think positive," but all I hear is, "Niko, ignore reality. That's what I do."

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REPOST: Valentines Day Musings

2010-02-14T13:00:00.001-07:00

I originally wrote the following essay two years ago.

I had just been broken up with after a fun and odd rollercoaster relationship, and felt compelled to say something about this day of chocolates and paper hearts.

I resubmit the following for your... amusement? No. Enjoyment? No. Bitter cynicism? Maybe.

I've also written a new contribution to the essay in italics below, dealing with my one good Valentines day, which I did not feel like talking about when I wrote this originally.

*************

I was going back and forth debating whether or not to post anything in regards to Valentines Day. I know it's an easy topic to criticize, and I'm betting that there will be a significant number of blogs posted today with more or less the same sentiment, nevertheless, I have observations that I wanted to get collected as well.

I've only had one good Valentines Day. One in. . . .well. . . .a good handful anyway.

It was valentines day 2007.

Myself, and a friend of mine decided to attend a local goth/industrial club for two reasons:

A) We knew most of the staff, and DJs, and...

B) We were likely looking for an easy way to not be at home, yet again, on a Valentines day. (Which I had done for almost every one I can remember).

As we pulled up to park, a bartender in the scene, and mutual friend of ours, pulled up beside us. We chatted lightly about what she was up to, and she mentioned coming from a concert where her recent dating-person (he wasn't really a boyfriend... is there a better name?) had performed.

She seemed disappointed, as after the show, this gentleman seemed much more interested in talking with fawning young girls, than paying any attention to her.

So, wisely, she left, and came to the club.

Inside, my friend and I drank (as one does) and walked the rooms chatting with acquaintances, and occasionally dancing to the random odd song.

When I glanced over at the bar, I saw my bartender friend, sitting down and drinking, looking very forlorn.

Her whole body language said that she was more hurt by the situation than she wanted to let on.

"Maybe I should say something?" I thought to myself.

Once I finally decided to talk to her, the music changed from up-tempo electro dance-whatever, to a slow ballad. Specifically, Mazzy Star's "Fade Into You".

Perfect, I thought.

Nervously, I approached her, and somehow, managed to pull her away from her depressed drinking, and onto the floor with me (though it did take some convincing).

Suddenly the two of us were there, in the dark, slow dancing to Mazzy Star, and the feelings were wonderfully exciting.

We would glance into each other's eyes with a sort of knowing, and confusion; both of us smiling, unable to hide the fact that we had each come to a new realization about each other.

As if out of nowhere.

In that one beautiful moment, we had seen each other in a new light, and connected in an emotional way, that up until then, had never existed.

Jumping to the conclusion: a few weeks later we started dating.

That was my only good Valentines day so far, but I still can look back with rose-colored glasses.

*sigh*

I miss that feeling.

Ever since I was old enough to have the concept of love mean something to me, I began to place a small bit of importance to February 14th. I was inundated with commercials, movies, music and books that pushed idealized love, and for that matter, a particular day to show that love.

At the beginning, this was all taken for granted. But as many of you find when growing up and dealing with reality, and people, you begin to lose your glossy outlook on life, and unfortunately, love.

The easiest thing to say here (and coincidentally, the most obvious) is that Valentines Day is just that. A Day. Just another day in which many companies desperately plot to sell their wares to you, and even more clever, make you feel guilty for not purchasing their wares. Similar to the many other yearly staple of obligatory holidays like Christmas, father's/mother's day, birthdays, halloween, and the biggest offender of all, Canada Day!

Knowing full well that most of these holidays are now entirely driven by companies and their "must have" goods, does not change the fact that this day is built around the fallacy of idealized love.

You've probably noticed, but most people's relationships are not like the movies.

Many couples get together as a mistake, or as a result of too much alcohol.

Most couples won't last, and the ones that do often stay together, not because of true love, or even regular love.

Comfortability is a common bond. Staying together because it's easy. Or staying together out of fear of the unknown.

Sometimes it's worse.

Sometimes they stay together for only physical attraction when they fight, scream, hurt, abuse and cheat on one another regularly.

Good times.

Why don't they show that couple on commercials? That's at least real.

I can tell you personally that having the notion of idealized, perfect love has not helped me in my strange journey through life. Trust me, it's a beautiful concept and when displayed in stories, songs and film, it is everything you ever hoped for. But the side effects are that we get these ideals in our subconscious, and forever distort our more healthy, grounded understanding of two people interacting, into something that can never be obtained, leaving us forever unsatisfied and unfulfilled.

But wait - there's more!

The result of all this Valentines Day hulabaloo, is actually often the opposite of the original intention, by only causing those without a relationship to feel lonely and unworthy, just in its inherent nature.

This feeling can also make us question ourselves, and put in a need for finding a significant other. What this is basically telling me in so many words, is that I am no good on my own, and if 'everyone else' is in a relationship, therefore so must I be.

Not really the best affirmation for self-empowerment is it?

What about those of us in a relationship during the obligatory "you better do something nice for me" day? Does it really offer the great romantic potential that we see plastered all over our TV screens? I'm going to go ahead and just say 'no' here.

I think that many a "V-day" has the chance to be pleasant and nice, but I'm going to wager that the truth of the matter is that it's really more stress and disappointment then anything else.

How romantic can it be to receive a gift or gesture of affection when it is subliminally required?

Hell, it's not even subliminal, it's direct and shoved down your throat!

Back to the matter, yes, it's always nice to be thought of. But it's not quite as thoughtful when you realize that they were supposed to think of you; in a way, required to think of you.

Isn't what in part makes something romantic the fact that it is not fully expected? Getting a gift from someone on a random day to show they were just thinking of you seems to me a greater sign of that person's interest in you. That, or they are cheating and feeling guilty.

I'm trying to stay with the former here.

Many of these holidays have far too much expectation built around them.

Once there is the requirement to do something or buy something for someone, expectations set in and forever skew your enjoyment of said gestures. Either it was not good enough, or it was the same as last year, or the same as an ex-lover who you are not on good terms with, or you just end up feeling guilty because your lover made more effort than you, and made you feel that your mindless contribution to the monetary obligation machine was less then.

And yet, with all of this very heady talk of analyzing this and that, and fully realizing that this day has no power or real meaning, my emotions still get the best of me and for whatever reason, make me wish I still had someone to feel obligated to buy something for.

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The Link Between Sports And Religion

2010-01-27T13:17:00.001-07:00

*****

First time reading The King Of Deprecation? You might also want to check out the 10 "best" essays of 2009 to get your feet/genitals wet.

*****

Sometimes inspiration for an observation about how we think and believe, comes from seemingly trivial sources. In this case, Facebook.

A fun, and unexpected series of connect the dots led me to answer the following question:

"What could possibly be similar between sports and religion?"

You'll have to read on to find out...

SPORTS

Quickly glancing through Facebook posts during any sports season, I see a million pro-Broncos posts (yes, very good, I'm in Denver) and many other anti-Raiders and Vikings (fill in the rest) posts, or, depending on the time of year, pro Rockies, Nuggets and Avalanche.

"We're going to kick [rival team's] ass!!"

"I bet I can find 1,000,000 people who hate [random rival team]!!!"

The same is expressed in person.

...Well not TO me, but around me.

I see and overhear, quite often, people getting very worked up about their team, while talking negatively about "hating" a rival team, and wanting terrible violent things to happen to them. (very sportsman like).

Most everyone knows I don't give a shit about sports by now. But what does interest me, is why people are drawn to the team they like. (It's the colors right? Hey! Now I get why people like sports so much! Look at those awesome colors go!!!)

What became quite obvious, was the fact that most of the time, people do not actually choose the team they want to like. It is already chosen for them.

"Huh?"

Seriously. Did they spend days and weeks, combing through player stats, backgrounds, personalities, watching highlight reels (or reading Highlights magazine), and deducing which team really was the best, BEFORE choosing to cheer for that team?

Is there really a best team?

Well, one team will win the super bowl each year, but over time that team will change.

People seem to be unaware of the idea that they have not consciously chosen the team they become so passionate about, even when they cover their walls in Fathead posters of groin-bulging players and carnivore-logo'ed helmets (carnivores, you know, because they are aggressive predators, which makes them, you know, cool. I'd like to make a new team someday, with the logo being a smiling non-threatening grandmother next to a few blades of grass with motion lines. INTENSE!!!).

Sorry. Digression.

With so much passion and interest rooting for your team, it may come as a surprise that liking that team was not a choice at all. In fact, it may be completely subconscious and, in a sort of orwellian-sounding-way, programmed into you.

"WHO IS YOUR DADDY, AND WHAT DOES HE DO?"

As I thought about people's excitement for particular teams and passionate "hatred" of other teams, not being a fan of any of them, it seemed rather odd. And silly. (Mostly that).

Again, was one team objectively more "hatable" than another?

Some teams do not play as well as others, sure, but over time that can, and often does turn around with the addition of new teammates and coaches.

So why one team over another?

How do we "choose"?

I smiled when I saw the correlation between how one is raised, and what one tended to think, feel, and want.

Our upbringing plays a hugely significant role in shaping us as individuals.

In fact, a lot of what can make a romantic relationship work between two people can be a similarity in the way they were both raised, cared for, and encouraged as children. (Interesting eh?)

So, if your parents were big Broncos fans, what is the likelihood that you will become a Broncos fan?

Fairly high, my friend.

Such is the power of influence, especially at an early age.

Everything your parents do, say and think is right. They know everything.

If they tell you that "the president is an idiot," well, not knowing anything about politics, and not knowing how to research facts on your own to come up with a unique opinion, you might take your parent's statement to grade school, and tell all of the children that, "the president is an idiot!" with strong conviction.

Do you know why?

No.

But it does not matter to you.

After all, your parents told you that, and your parents do not lie.

DAD: "The Redwings suck! GO AVALANCHE!!!"

... SEVERAL YEARS LATER...

CHILD: My opinion, which I came to on my own, is that the Redwings suck. That's my PERSONAL opinion.

LOCATION LOCATION LOCATION

Obviously, people can make up their own minds about things, and do all the time.

As I paced around my room thinking about the influences that bring us to like one team over another, I thought it kind of funny that one of the main factors that likely influences your choice of team is simply location.

More than likely, you cheer for the team that represents your region, state, city, or college.

Though it is usually emblazened on the uniform of whatever team is playing, we have a tendency to ignore the significance of the location of the team, as being one of the primary factors in what gets us to feel part of something.

Seeing people post online about "GO THIS TEAM!!" and "THAT TEAM SUCKS!!!", I began thinking how different things would be for those same individuals if they had just been born in a different place.

If they are a Denver Broncos fan now, one would assume they live in Denver, or at least somewhere in Colorado. But what would happen if they'd simply been born, and then lived in another state, perhaps, I don't know, say, Wisconsin.

Would they still be a Broncos fan?

Probably not. There would be no reason to be. It would be like rooting for the enemy, for the outsiders. And one thing we don't do is root for is the suspicious, thieving, filthy, evil outsider.

They would be a cheesehead, a Packers fan.

Simply by changing where one is born and where one lives, changes very strong opinions about their personal passions.

We'd all like to think that we make a conscious decision to like what we like because it is the best choice. Unfortunately, we are much more subconsciously malleable than that (by the way, that means shapable, like clay. You're welcome).

All that passion and hatred for another rival team would probably be completely different if your parents had liked another team, and if you'd been born in another place.

So much for objectivity in what we feel and think, eh?

Location. Crazy.

Things suddenly don't seem so clear cut anymore.

WHERE IN THE WORLD....?

Take that same principle about location within a geographical area affecting your personal "choice" of teams, and let's move it onto the world stage.

Now let's imagine that hypothetical person who could easily switch their deeply-ingrained passion for the Broncos, just because of being born in another state, and move them to another country. (All expenses paid!)

No... being born there.

Now a big part of that person's former identity as a football fan, would now be morphed into their identity as a... football fan... but actual, literal football this time. Or for us Americans, Soccer. (Or for those in the deep south "Gay Foot").

American football is pretty much isolated to, you guessed it, America.

However European football is a phenomenon all across the world. (Which why I should not call it European. Whoops! Too late).

By being born overseas, the Bronco fan in another life could now be a Manchester United fan, with all the same passions, feeling of "choice", and hatred for rival teams they possessed before.

The more something stupidly-simple like location is examined as an influence in who we are, what we think, what we care about, and how we behave, the more I come to question how much of myself has been intentional.

And that starts to upset me.

How much of how I see myself, my values, my morals, my interests, my humor, and more are simply products of where I live, and how I was raised? Two things I have no control over.

Humbling stuff.

And then, as I sat down for my morning porcelain meditation, thinking about how sports fervor was entirely subjective and based upon upbringing and location, it struck me...

This sounds very familiar.

What else does this sound like?

Ah, yes. Of course.

RELIGION

Several of my more religious friends, along with countless religious people on Youtube, will often post that Jesus Christ, and The Holy Bible is the only way to truth.

That Jehovah/Yahweh/Jesus' Dad is the one true God.

They will put up quotes and defenses, and passionately proclaim their love of their faith.

At one point in my life, I would have wanted to post offensive, yet humorous replies to them, just because I'm that needy for attention (I did some of that in high school). Now, I'm more interested in the influences that bring us to believe one thing over another thing.

Is it stronger evidence for one belief over another belief?

Is it that one faith makes more logical sense than another?

Is one simply objectively true, while all the others are false?

And if so, how would we know?

"WHO IS YOUR DADDY, AND WHAT DOES HE DO?"

Hmmm... Deja vu...

As I thought about people's enthusiasm for their particular faith, and passionate "hatred" or "villianization" of other faiths, not being a believer of any of them, it seemed rather odd. And silly (even more so this time).

Again, was one belief objectively more "hatable" or demonstrably wrong than another?

Some beliefs are not as popular as others, sure, but over time that can, and often does turn around with the addition of new religious leaders, time and influence.

So why one faith over another?

How do we "choose"?

I smiled again when I saw the correlation between how one is raised, and what one tended to think, feel, and want. It worked here too!

Very interesting...

As I said, our upbringing plays a hugely significant role in shaping us as individuals.

Especially when we are young, our parents are infallible. They know everything, and never lie.

If your parents attend a Lutheran church, and bring you along every week, odds are you will probably be a Lutheran. (No, not always, of course).

One telling thing I noticed from browsing online dating sites, is that many women say a similar thing when given the opportunity to say something about their religion. (Sorry, I did not check the guy's profiles, but it's probably similar).

"I was raised Lutherian"

Or

"I was brought up Catholic"

Not "I AM" this or that.

I was "RAISED" this or that.

Notice that the question they were answering was not, "What belief were you RAISED with?"

A subconscious giveaway, I think. (I love that stuff).

Most people do not choose what they believe (at least at the beginning), but I have to acknowledge, out of fairness, that many do (usually much later in life).

Not every Lutheran family will spawn Lutheran children, just as not every Broncos-rooting family will spawn Broncos fans. When people get out into the big bad world for themselves they have an opportunity to consider new points of view, new beliefs, and new ideas.

Some will change their mind, many will not.

But looking at the number one answer for why most people believe what they do, "My parents are Catholic," it seems to me that that response seems to justify it for us.

Why do you believe this?

"Because she does."

Why does she believe it?

"Because they do."

Well, that's good enough for me! Where do I sign?

LOCATION LOCATION LOCATION

Say, these headlines look awfully familiar...

Location plays a huge roll in determining what faith, belief, or religion you will adopt for yourself.

Though it may seem depressing to chock up such an important part of people's lives to a random event such as where you were born, and were you live, it does not change the impact of the location's influential power. (Its EVIL influential power!!! BWA HA HA HA HA!!!).

For instance, being born in one area of the country might find you deeply entrenched in the Southern Baptist culture, while being born in another puts you squarely into Mormon territory.

In other scenarios, where you were born and how you were raised would see to it that you were an evangelical creationist or perhaps even an orthodox Jew.

So many different variations just by location.

But all of these beliefs are supposed to be true, right?

So does that mean that Truth is relative to your geographical region?

Does being born in a different part of the country change the amount of truth your beliefs will have?

And if one belief is still more true than another, what happens if you are born into a "less true" or worse, a false faith? How would you even know? I mean, your parents believe it, and many other people believe it, how could they be wrong?

Is it all just subjective and relative?

WHERE IN THE WORLD....?

And that's just what's common for America.

Take the oft used example that we love to hate.

We've done a good job of demonizing Islam and Muslim culture. (It's pretty easy really).

After all, it's not like our culture or our faith, so it must be bad. (Yeah! Totally!)

But pretend, for consistency, you were born Saudi Arabia, and suddenly everything flips on its head. (Why that happens is still being tested by top scientists).

Because of your location, and how you were raised, Islam is now the one truth faith, and everything western is now wrong, and evil.

You believe the Qur'an just as strongly as you would have believed The Bible.

You would now likely be militantly against Christianity, the very thing you believed so strongly before, all because of where you were born, and how you were raised. Two things, again, very much out of your control.

And that's just one variation. A few hundred miles this way or that, and you could have been a Hindu or a Buddhist. (Dear God noooooooooo!!!!!!)

(God: Yeeeeeeeeppppppp!!!)

It really starts to seem arbitrary and pointless if it's just ascribed to location.

For a silly example (the best kind), how is this any different from a fiery war based on the prevailing geographical music style?

America hating Mexico because they don't believe that Blues is the one good form of music. Mexico passionately against America for their discounting of Mariachi. Ireland angry at Germany because they have not accepted traditional Gaelic folk music as their one true style, and Russia aiming missiles at Japan for listening to their false J-pop music.

Time for a musical cleansing!

CONCLUSION

Examining the origins of our most strongly and fervently held beliefs, opinions, and passions, makes me wonder how much of what and who we are is really of our own doing.

And that is not something I like the sound of.

Most of us, myself included, take great pride in our personal opinions and viewpoints, and to entertain the possibility that I'm not as in control of my own decision making process as I want to be, or think I am, is actually quite depressing.

How much of what we feel is really our own idea? How much is just a product of where we live, and how our parents raised us?

As a bigger question, how do we know if what we think and believe is truly our own?

And if something as profound as belief can be influenced by our upbringing and location, is there really anything that is universally true?

I'll leave that up to you.

Wait. Hold that thought... the game's on!

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Hey! If you liked reading this story, would you mind clicking on one of the social icons above or below, so others can find this too? My condescending thanks.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

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Tags: blog philosophy psychology humor sarcastic sports religion football soccer broncos christian christianity islam muslim upbringing location belief faith truth

Why Do Anything?

2010-01-20T16:02:00.002-07:00

Dear god why?!

It is a simple question, but one that seems to rear its ugly head quite often these days for me, and for many of my friends.

Perhaps it may seem utterly ridiculous to you, and if so, just wait a few years until you get to enjoy one of many existential crises in which the very foundation on which you built your knowledge of who you are, and what you want, erode and crumble away beneath your size 7 Keds. (I don't wear those, in case you were wondering).

This is the real question people:

Why do anything at all?

Why?

Any and all things you want to do, or have to do, can be reduced to sub-trivial pointlessness with a series of negative and defeatist probing questions.

With myself, and so many of my friends fighting this battle of bleakness and self-sabotage, I figured it would make sense to give this concept some airing out, and maybe, just maybe, benefit some of you who may be struggling with the same jubilant thoughts.

...Well... Never mind.

After all, "What's the point?"

THE LOGICAL ENDPOINT

Over the course my recent intellectual furtherings ("furtherings" is not a word), I would often take any new philosophical idea to its logical conclusion.

Though I wish it always ended in some brilliant discovery of pure inspiration and fresh-from-the-oven genius, (and not that there isn't a moment of that along the way), it seldom does.

And what is that logical conclusion you may ask?

"So what?"

"Who cares?"

"Why bother?"

"Why even try?"

In my quest for understanding myself, and the world around me, when I peel back each layer of introspection, contemplation, revelation and totally-radical-awesomeness, I find myself at this familiar bottom layer of any idea, which seems to be the most elementary and primitive of all.

You are now on the bottom floor of the proverbial intellectual department store, with the sign reading, "Apathy, hopelessness, disillusionment, and square-tipped Italian leather douche shoes."

The depressing thing is that no matter how much I am able to convince myself of something's importance and relevance, it always ends up back at one of those self-defeating "answers".

Literally anything.

Meaning of life? "Who cares."

Relationships? "What does that matter?"

Career? "So what?"

Happiness? "Pfff... Pointless."

Let's work through some lofty goals to see how fast we get back to square zero.

WHY IS THAT VALUABLE?

My close friend Tommy suffers from the same negative mindset.

During a recent conversation, the two of us began talking about how some people become successful based off of superficial means, like their looks, or their willingness to abandon any semblance of personal, moral, or artistic integrity to make something happen.

Given that the two of us very much care about the art we create (for some reason. Pretty stupid huh?), Tommy contemplated the idea that "perhaps we should follow that path instead?"

My defense was to say that what we do requires actual skill, talent and years of work, thought and emotion to create. And in my mind, that was supposed to be positive.

His reply was simply, "Why is that valuable?"

Well, you see... because... creativity is... I mean art has a way of... well... people get affected by the... by the...

...I don't know.

I've always placed subjective value on things like music, art, creativity in general, and lately, stuffy areas like philosophy and psychology.

They feel (<---- key word) important to me.

But oh how simply they all come a-tumblin' down with the question, "why are those valuable?"

Well, why are they?

Who values them?

And why place such value on something so intangible?

Who is ever likely to experience the things we do?

And why would it matter to them?

Fuck, you're right! It's just a bunch of bullshit. In the grand scheme of things, it really doesn't seem that important.

It seems almost... *gulp*... valueless.

FOLLOW YOUR PASSION (LESSNESS)

I struggle with this devaluing-mindset-castration extremely often these days.

Finding a reason to continue doing something, damn near anything, is almost a day to day fight. And I'm not a fighter.

Which is why I figured that writing about this topic would be a good idea.

Or is it?

"So why write this article?"

Well, because it's on my mind, and it's something that I, and several of my friends deal with very often these days.

"And why does that matter?"

Well, sometimes just writing about something helps to frame the problem so that it can be worked on, and perhaps this might actually be helpful to other people.

"And you care about that why?"

I enjoy writing about this kind of stuff, and I also like to be able to offer perspectives to other that may benefit their lives.

"...and?"

What do you mean "and?"?! "AND" I get to help people. Well, maybe. Assuming anyone reads it, and connects it back to their own lives.

"How likely is that?"

I guess not very likely. Not many people read this, and some of the ones that do don't seem to understand that the point of telling these personal stories is to bring up a point about human nature, or the world, that they can apply to themselves.

"So why write this article?"

I don't know anymore. It seemed like something that would be a good idea, but maybe none of this matters.

Maybe nothing really matters.

THE ENTH DEGREE

Fun so far, eh?

No, it's not. And I am partially sorry about the gloomy nature of this essay, but it's an important road block that keeps many of us from accomplishing what we are potentially capable of.

For example, maybe you should try to get that promotion at work.

"Well, maybe, it does mean more money, BUT....

I'd probably have to work a lot more anyway, and I already don't like my job, and why would I want to try harder at something that has nothing to do with the person I am, and the things I really care about."

All right then, stay where you are at work. Perhaps you should try to meet someone new then. You know, date a little.

"Why? So I can get into a relationship? Sure it feels good at the beginning, but sooner or later, and usually sooner, one of you is going to fall out of love with the other, or you're going to get your heart broken, or one of you will die, or you'll get into a relationship that's 50 times more awful than just being alone.

No thanks!"

That's only looking at the negative, but hey, if that's how you feel.

What if you just tried to focus on being a little happier then?

"Happiness is for idiots! Only those who are truly unaware, or ignorant are happy. That would mean becoming stupider! Is THAT what you want me to do? Plus, being happy is so substanceless. It's empty."

Damn! So do something with substance then, if that's your thing.

"What's the point? So I do some art, or music, or writing, and no one knows about them, and they never go anywhere, and never affect anyone, and then I die. Sounds real important to me."

Whoa, whoa there Mr. Joyful. Fine, don't do anything then. I was just trying to help out.

"Why were you trying to help me? What does that matter to you, eh? None of the things we do here really make a difference, and if it does, it goes away within a matter of years. When we're gone, no one will care that you tried to help me, or her, or anyone. It won't make any mark. So why even do it?"

Jesus Christ man! You're just no fun to be around. I'm going home.

UNIVERSAL POINTLESSNESS

And just to make sure we cover our bases (in what, I've always wondered), the biggest and most cosmically significant perspectives for apathetic indifference to one's own existence:

DEATH

As I mentioned via use of a "character" above, one of the biggest ways to make anything seem quite meaningless is to throw in, "... and then we die."

Yes, I tell you, post death, no one will likely give two flaming shits about whatever it was that you cared about. And if someone else does care, they'll eventually die too, and then no one will remember you, or anything you did/created/thought/coughed up/ or dry humped.

Our brief stint with being conscious just takes the value out of things like work, entertainment and especially masturbatory pursuits like existential philosophy and psychoanalysis.

Who fucking cares!?

THE UNIVERSE

And if that's not enough, don't forget that even after our deaths, the Sun is going to eventually burn itself out, increase in size to engulf the whole galaxy, and then likely collapse into a black hole, sucking all matter near it into a cozy happy* singularity. (*"happy" void in Milky Way Galaxy during this time).

And if you need more global reasons for insignificance, the entire fabric of the universe itself appears to be expanding and also speeding up. Will it simply disintegrate into a fine ground powder, or will it eventually reverse and suck itself back into itself?

Who knows? Both scenarios are fairly cheery.

Either way, it kinda take the steam out of the things you care about in a given day:

"I'm going to write this book about..."

REALIZATION: You're just a blip on the universal time scale.

".... oh...." *Sadness commences*

REALIZATION: And time itself will eventually unravel.

".........." *Crushing emptiness*

THE VALUELESSNESS OF VALUE

And really, when you think about it, the strange concept that we humans have a need to apply almost anything in our lives with some made-up confines titled "meaning", "purpose", and "value", is completely pointless in itself.

Yes, that's exactly as far as I'm going with this: The idea that we even assign meaning to things is, in itself meaningless.

It's a subjective and arbitrary idea with no real grounding in anything, but it feels so important to us humans.

And it has no meaning.

Dear god man!

Why do anything!?!?

BEYOND SO WHAT

All right, all right.

So things can be examined with a very self-defeating razor, and many things we find important in our lives can be reduced to feeling pointless and worthless.

Nothing really has any meaning or value.

So, again, why do anything?

Because underneath it all we still care.

Even with a million points that tell us how it does not matter in the long run, somehow, it still does.

It's a tautology, but it's true.

We care because we care.

It matters to us, because it matters to us.

I bet that may seem too simple for some of you, but sometimes the answer is facepalmingly obvious.

Through over-analyzing anything with the sledgehammer of pessimistic apathy, we can quickly and easily reach what feels like the bottom of any argument: "So what?", "Who cares?", "What does it matter?".

But given some time to sit with that "conclusion", I often find myself still going back to the things I've written off as pointless and without meaning.

Why?

Somehow, I still care about them.

I do it because I want to.

It's as simple as that.

I keep writing essays, I keep making music, I strive to better myself, and even still search for something as silly as love.

Even though you can dissect any idea, motivation, goal, or priority in your life down to the level of "so what", over time you begin to see that that is no longer the bottom of the barrel. There is indeed another level below that murky, defeatist layer.

And that's the most basic core of desire, or want.

Accepting this premise, even though it takes time, may eventually be able to help you through your own bleak, self-sabotage, when you talk yourself out of doing something new and scary.

"Why is that important? What does that matter? What's the value in that? Who cares? So what?"

You care. That's what.

Deal with it.

Now do it.

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Tags: blog philosophy psychology humor sarcastic life+lessons self+help depression fear apathy who+cares so+what motivation meaning value pointless existentialism

2009: What Have We Learned?

2010-01-11T09:42:00.001-07:00

I recapped the most horrible year of my life in a perky little blog, plainly titled, "2008: The Worst Year Of My Life".

I figured simplicity was best in that case.

I spent the beginning of that year feeling broken mentally and emotionally after the ending of a relationship, then took that energy and channeled it into my harrowing near-death due to a sudden incarcerated hernia, and finally sailed smoothly into the winter by almost going completely broke.

But other than that, it was great.

So with my 2008 being so merry and gay, how did 2009 fare for little ol' me?

Well, it just so happens that 2009 marks the first year of The King Of Deprecation, (which is obviously this ridiculous pseudo-philosohpical blog you're reading now) and therefore that makes it easy to go back in time and follow the tumultuous, tear-jearking, and sexual journey through the ups and downs of The Aftermath of 2008.

So, now comes the question.

What have we learned Charlie Brown?

EARLY 2009

The last new year started off with a bang. (silence...)

I ended 2008 by just barely scraping by, still healing physically, mentally and emotionally.

So it only makes sense to hit me again, this time with the drawn-out death of my only companion (yes, sad in itself), my cat of 15 years, Hobbes.

Not the best way to begin the year, I guess I should have planned things differently.

Without my feline friend I was now truly alone, with no one to throw my constant comments and witty asides to while working at home (I really need an Ed McMahon character that follows me around).

A month later I had my biggest set back of the whole ordeal, when I discovered that the dramatic hernia situation that had nearly claimed my life a few moths prior was back, albeit in a much less life-threatening way.

This became one of the lowest points in my entire life.

I felt that I would never escape my own bodily defects, and, though not very logical, my emotions swamped me in the fear that this was to be forever my lot in life: to be broken, and to remain that way forever. Limited, feeble, restricted in almost every aspect of life we take for granted. (All of them).

My birthday that month was slightly less than badass.

My awful outlook on life, fueled by my extreme unhappiness, gave birth to many fascinating (though I'm sure quite depressing and bleak) philosophical conversations about the nature existence.

More than ever before, my mind drifted into constant examination of myself and the world around me, and I discovered that I seemed to enjoy psychoanalyzing people.

During this ever-so-groovy period, I spent much time focusing on two main issues that were quite apparent in my (then shitty) writing.

Love and happiness.

More specifically, why each of those concepts were negative.

I had no love, and I had no happiness, and therefore I had to come up with some pretty over-the-top rationalizations of of my place in life. Not that there aren't downsides and things to take note of with those concepts, but maybe, just maybe (I don't want to jump to conclusions yet) I went a bit too far with it.

My new found outlet and interest in writing about these observations was my only real therapy. As each new idea, opinion, feeling and perspective came to mind, I channeled my miserable mood into a light edition of what some might call 'enthusiam' or 'excitement' or 'slightly-less-miserable-ness' and began to collect them in a notebook in the goal of turning many of them into poorly written blogs.

Great job!

MID 2009

Though my own bodily frailty and my bitter perspective on the world were always on my mind, as the year progressed, somehow I managed to turn my frothing, torturous self-pity into a frothing, torturous self-pity-based series of essays that showcased my personal insecurities and my need to impress others.

(Impressed with my honesty there? 'Cause, you know, that took courage to just come out and be so open about that. I mean, I would admire someone who did that... so... you know... you might... um... ).

During my lifetime, I have developed a strange skill that allows me to adapt my personal pain, hatred, and depression, and use it as a tool to help me forge my creative endeavors. In fact, I became so good at it, that any time I found myself in a new, freshly-minted (still in box) dramatic situation, within minutes I would already be thinking, "Fuck this really sucks! I can't wait to write a song with this emotion!"

And now I applied it to writing.

(See? Look at me go!!)

Though miserable, by the middle of 2009, my mind was now running at a ridiculously high RPM (which was unnecessary given the speed I was traveling at). Every day would bring a new all-consuming thought about myself or those around me, a new perspective about this grand turd we called awareness, and philosophical ramblings that led me to momentary excitement and potential brilliance, only to end up at "so what?"

My personal struggle with the concept of happiness continued, as I tried my best to demonize it (you know, since I didn't have it) in blogs like "I Resent Your Happiness". Also waged was my battle with love in general, with blogs like "(Mis)Perceptions Of Love" and others (which I perpetually shot sniper rounds at from the comfort of my lofty elitist bell tower, while shouting, "you made me play second base!!!").

Though I was really beginning to... to... "enjoy" (please apply that term loosely) writing my thoughts on things, and putting them out into the world as a form of self-reflective therapy, my emotions were building under the surface (this is the same surface, by the way, that was already obviously tormented, rage-filled, and super-depressive. One can only imagine the HIDDEN emotions under that).

The constant, and seemingly hopeless struggle with the medical system, combined with my ever more erratic emotions and über-pessimism about the futile crap-shoot of life, culminated in my darkest period of recent times.

My essay about suicide summed up my whole outlook at the time.

I enjoyed nothing. I looked forward to nothing. I was eternally unhappy.

I really felt that I genuinely had nothing at all. I had chosen the shortest straw, and I could see no good reasons to continue trudging through this pointlessness.

(You know what I should do about that? Dwell on it some more! That will help!).

LATE 2009

So, if you thought contemplating suicide was the lowest point I could get to, just wait until...

Actually, you were right, it was the lowest point.

Obviously I did not end my life, though I really don't recall why not. (There's still plenty of time for that).

Perhaps the reason, or part of it at least, was due to my obsessive focus on finishing my five-years-in-the-making 3rd album "Moira's Lake", for my personal music project Envinity.

When fully engrossed in working on something I love, though I may complain about the work, though I may be stressed out, though I may be tired, I find that I counteract all of my negative emotional mood swings (perhaps not ALL...).

Seeing this in action, I wrote about my new theory that my personal happiness, or satisfaction, is tied very closely to my creative output and productivity.

Hmmm. So is that the key to my depression?

Yeahhhhhnnnnnoooo. Sort of. One of may keys, really.

In September I finally caught a lucky break with my health problems and, after months and months of awful, annoying struggles, managed to get my surgery taken care of.

It was an amazing relief, and one less thing to add to the billion pestering thoughts that greeted me each sun-shiney day.

With that portion of my life 100% fully behind me forever and ever with literally no chance of returning in the future in any way, shape or form, (take a breath in), my mind focused back on what it does best:

Over-analyzing every god damn thing.

When I returned to my blogs, I wrestled with more heady concepts that bothered me, namely spirituality and belief in general, in cheeky essays like Gardening With God, and The Inefficacy Of Prayer.

I inadvertently improved my writing-style and storytelling skills by pushing myself to be more naked and vulnerable in my essays (like in the blog "Soul Mates"), and turned up the scrutiny and self-deprecation on myself. (How could I have turned up the "self-deprecation" on someone else?).

With my mind thoroughly engrossed in finishing my album, and writing new observations on life, I felt, for once in a long while, okay.

Not great, mind you. But "okay" was a welcomed improvement.

Say, maybe I had found the key to my own happiness...

END OF 2009

I was on fire. (FUCK!!!!)

I was monstrously productive (I did a thing), and I was busy all of the time. I would complain that there was not enough time to get every aspect of the music, graphics, writing, editing, marketing, and self-fellatio completed.

My full release came (wow, what's with all of the sudden sexual humor? What does that say about me right now?) on Halloween when, after 5 years of work, I released Moira's Lake to the world (see: a few people on the internet).

Now I could finally relax after all of that... stress... and... okay, I'm getting bored and restless already... really restless and frustrated now... nothing to work on... depression coming back... shit... I thought I had the magical cure-all???!!!!

My big projects had worked wonders to keep my mind focused, and much less likely to dwell on the negative. Now that the projects were done, my mind was free to wander back into philosophical bleakness, and I drifted into the quite familiar emotional mire.

My "too many to count by now" existential crisis was upon me again, and wrapped me up in a flour tortilla with mixed cheese and chipotle aiole. (Mmmm... actually can I have a side of salsa with that too? Perfect. Thanks).

As I dissected myself further at the end of the year, the essays became increasingly life-focused and philosophical, dealing with the essential questions of existence: who am I? What do I want?

Understanding the nature of my priorities in life was now an important question.

My existential crisis forced me ever closer to the causes of what affects me, and how I react to them. Everyday brought with it a new way to look at myself, a new observation on my behavior, a new revelation on who I really am as a person (usually not flattering, but still fascinating).

Things came to a decidedly uncharacteristic peak when, madly pacing around my apartment one day in search of some understanding of who I am and what I want, it suddenly hit me.

I've never made "enjoying my life" a priority.

Everything up until then revolved around my creative projects, and my happiness took a back seat to the art. In fact, I seemed to sabotage my chances at happiness, just to create more pain, and then vicariously, more art.

This was the person I'd known as "Niko" for nearly half of my life.

I was almost afraid to admit to myself the treasonous thought that, "maybe I want to enjoy my life now."

What a strange notion.

And yet, I think I do.

"What? Enjoy your life? Who the hell is this person?"

At the moment, I'm not sure.

That's for 2010 to decide.

My head hurts.

ABOUT THE BLOGS THEMSELVES

In order to write this post, and also the last blog about my "best" posts of 2009, I sat myself down in front of the computer (so far sounds fairly cut and dried), and began reading through everything I've posted last year.

In my mind, this would be a fun task. I was guessing that I was going to enjoy reading about my mindset and observations during the often frustrating times of spring '09.

What I discovered upon my first few readings, was that I, the very person who wrote these blogs, was having trouble even getting to the end of some of them.

"Wow, that's kind of embarrassing," I thought out loud.

Not the feeling I was hoping for.

Sure I knew that my earlier posts would not be as good, but these were pretty unreadable.

The observation at the heart of each essay was all fine and good –points about honesty, the nature of emotion, and lust– but the writing behind it made me want to fall asleep and dream of molten river of turds.

(I can't tell if that is relaxing or not, I'll have to try it tonight).

My perspective was all off.

There was no personal connection, no emotion, no story, no real reason to care about the notion, idea, or observation contained within the big, intimidating blocks of text.

As I soldiered on, I (thankfully) slowly began developing my writing style into something more entertaining and readable (subjectively speaking of course).

Due to my insecurities as a freshly minted "writer", I felt I had to prove myself to the world by using a constant slew of big words and over-the-top, out-of-place humor. Yeah, that'll make 'em love it!!

(OMNIFUTUANT!!)

What an idiot I was.

Well, perhaps just ignorant of these concepts.

Sure I could throw out some interesting points of view on myself and others (we all have legs), but if there is no personal connection to the idea, why would you give a shit about reading it? (Answer: you didn't give a shit about reading it).

Look at a post from March '09 and then one from October through December and you'll see what I mean. The point being made is just fine, but it's just not told in an interesting way.

On second thought, just take my word for it and only read the newer stuff.

What a difference a year makes.

2009 VS 2008

So overall, how does 2009 fare when compared to 2008?

Well, considering that I was destroyed mentally, emotionally, physically and financially in 2008, losing my cat of 15 years, dealing with a second hernia, extreme bouts of depression, near suicide, and existential crises made for a much improved year!

The setbacks, and personal crises, though awful at the moment, served as a wonderful reference point to learn more about the person I have become (whoever the fuck he is), and the world around me.

I do strongly believe that pain is one of the best catalysts for change, and with that in mind, change I did.

If 2008 was the worst year of my life, than I will officially dub 2009 my year of awareness, says me.

Now the real test is to see if I can begin actually applying these observations to my life, with the goal of, dare I say, IMPROVING IT (wha??!!), and make 2010 my year of implementation.

Well, good fucking luck on that.

Anyone else learn any big lessons about themselves this past year?

You might also be interested in:

Hey! If you liked reading this story, would you mind clicking on one of the social icons below, so others can find this too? My condescending thanks.

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Tags: blog personal+struggle philosophy psychology life+lessons humor sarcasm self+improvement

The 10 Best Essays Of 2009

2010-01-04T09:08:00.002-07:00

Jesus, have I really been writing these stupid things for a year already?

(Well, actually, since March, so, ya know, no. Not a year. Why I am I doing this then?).

Ah, fuck it.

Everyone loves Time Life's amazing greatest hits compilations!

No... no.... I said everyone.

....EVERYONE!!!

Stop shaking your head.

(Or continue, see if I care... *sniff*)

I figure many of you began to read some of my meandering mind vomit only recently, and in that case you've missed some (I was about to say 'great')... mildly entertaining posts. (And there was one time that something I said was insightful too. I'm like totally serious and stuff).

So with that in mind, I thought it would be wise to assemble (no disassemble!), some of my personal "best" posts (best is a subjective term, as you soon shall see), so that you can relive my anger, depression, and charming insecure smugness all over again!

WHAT IS THE KING OF DEPRECATION?

Some of you who are newer to this blog may be asking, "What is this horseshit I'm reading?" (In fact, many of you who have read for a while as still asking yourselves that).

Good question.

Contrary to popular opinion, my goal is actually NOT to be yet another asshole on the internet who thinks he's "hot shit".

I know, I know. Probably news to you.

In fact, my goal is to get people to analyze their own lives, beliefs and views by giving introspective, sometimes odd, but hopefully entertaining personal accounts of my own observations on myself and the outside world.

You know, stuff no one cares about: philosophy, psychology, self examination.

In essence, life lessons from an insecure, overly-emotional pretentious elitist.

So, I guess you were right the first time:

"Horseshit."

JESUS CHRIST!! FINALLY!! THE 10 BEST OF 2009

Below I've put together my 10 favorite essays from this first year of The King Of Deprecation.

You'll notice (because I just told you), that most of these essays are from the second half of the year, as most of the ones in the first half were too shitty. Or bare minimum 'okay-ish'. Hey, you have to start somewhere, leave me alone.

All right, grab some individually popped kernels of corn, open your fly, and prepare to be... whelmed.

10. The Inefficacy Of Prayer

Likely to be controversial for some, due to my billion reasons why prayer is ridiculous, it still manages to throw in some great humorous moments, like the Trivial God speech, and dealing with prayer in sports.

Good times.

9. Internal And External Priorities

Breaking down complicated approaches to life by putting people into two distinct categories of priorities. Say, does this sound a little too black and white? Yes. Yes it does. Still good observations, and a decent amount of personal examples of my weird perspective to connect with (probably not).

8. Passion Or Practicality?

The first blog I've written that destroyed a friendship! Not that I'm proud of that, in fact I actually feel pretty bad about it. Boy, it just shows how powerful writing these things can be.

I still feel that there are some good insights into how we behave and what we look for in relationships in this essay.

7. The Ebb And Flow... And Ebb

My self examination is in full force, as I search into the very nature of my emotional life, and with it, the natural cycle of our lives. Fuck I'm poignant!

6. A Spoonful Of Relationships Will Cure What Ails Ya!

A long rant on the idea that relationships in general will solve all of life's problems. Which, by the way, is fucking stupid. Feel the laughter, enjoy the brutality.

5. The Depression Panacea

A great personal revelation about my own happiness and my creativity/productivity. Perhaps you might be able to get some applicable information for yourself.

I can't think of anything funny to say right now. That's sad. Bitterly sad. Now I'm depressed.

4. Sports Hatred

Probably my most attacking and acerbic post thus far. Perhaps out of the norm, with much less self-deprecation, but all in all quite high-larious and angry. I spend a lot of time making fun of stereotypes in sports fans, like DEBs, and then go "all psychological on your ass".

3. Too Early For Suicide?

Somehow I managed to make a moment in time where I considered killing myself, humorous and entertaining. Oh, and bleak and depressing too, obviously. But in such a lovely, readable way.

2. Revenge Of Jehovah's Witnesses

If any of my blogs this year could earn the review "edge of your seat thrills" it's this one. An epic battle of wits told through numerous movie, novel and video game references. Oh, it also deals with religion, so if you get offended easily, you should work on that.

1. Your Self Projection Has Potential

One of my favorite posts of the year, personally. Perhaps my best so far? A great theory on how we look at others, and how much of what we see in them is really there. (I called my own essay 'great'. I'm not taking it back, even though I know it sounds conceited).

READERS FAVORITES

I really should have put "reader" sans the plural.

(I take that back, I just hit plural!!)

Since one or two people do occasionally glance at the horseshit I write (if only to shake their heads quietly in sadness. Deep, all-consuming sadness), I thought it would be interesting to get some alternate perspectives on what blogs other people found worthwhile (yes, that is a stretch, I get it).

Take it away, two guys who are related!

DANIEL DRINNEN

Touching Death in the Crotch and Hernia 2: A Love Story
These are two of my favorite KoD posts ever. They're humorous and terrifying at the same time, and they do a beautiful job of highlighting how awful the US health care system is without being preachy or pompous (which every other US health care opponent in the world does...). There's no better way to highlight the cause of a problem than by discussing the effects, and that shit is fuckin' proper discussed in these posts, son!

Sports Hatred
I love Sports Hatred because it lets me explore a side of my own hatred of sports that is usually left untapped. I definitely don't like or watch sports, but for the most part they don't "bother" me, per se. Somehow the pure, unfiltered hatred of sports and the people who base their lives on their "team" got me revved up and ready to chastise some DEBs. Mmmm... vicarious hatred...

The Depression Panacea
This was a great entry because it so earnestly discussed and commented on the ups and downs of growing up. It is also rare in that it ends on a pretty positive note! Good lord!

Passion or Practicality
This is a unique post because my favor of it lies solely in the fact that I completely disagree with it. Somewhere along the road of life, people stop caring about opposing viewpoints, and either disregard them or violently oppose them. I totally disagreed with the opinions in the post, and the actions described therein, but it probably made me think about my own perspectives on the subject more than I ever had before. Anything that fosters constructive self-reflection makes Fonzie go, "Ayyyyy!"

You Should Meet My Friend Niko
Possibly the greatest autobiographical fictional conversation I've ever read. It's confident and self deprecating (oh hey, now I get it!) at the same time, and very genuine in its representation of the way people perceive potential relationship candidates. Aren't we all as complicated and difficult as Niko in some form or another? Won't all relationships have to deal with these issues eventually? Of course, but Niko's imaginary "girl just out of a relationship" in this post perfectly embodies the "out of sight, out of mind" mentality of modern dating and relationship building. Again, this post manages to touch and comment on so many different subjects, but never blatantly. If it wanted to, it could totally slip through the door as an "I'm down on myself, pay no mind" blog post. And then it could do some underage drinking and set the toilet paper on fire in the men's room. Oh Blog Post, will you ever learn?!? (Be sure to check the comments section for Niko's Dad's rebuttal conversation, which, in many ways, surpasses the original!)

THOMAS DRINNEN

As a regular "King of Deprecation" reader, I was asked by the paisley poo-bah himself (good ole' Niko) to maybe go back and revisit the 2009 archives and pick a few that stood out to me. That is, of course, if I actually cared enough about his silly little project to do so. Well, to be frank (or john), that sounded like an undertaking too great for a lazy lad such as myself and procrastination won the day(s). But somehow I finally managed to summon enough strength to at least begin my venture down memory lane.

And so it began... January, February... other months.

What I came up with was an understanding that I wasn't going to be able to choose a "favorite" or "series of favorites". Not because they all just blow my mind and certainly not because they all just blow (a reference to the act of performing a blowjob, therefore making it a negative statement... cause, you know, pleasuring a male's genitals is disgusting and no-one could ever enjoy it or find anything attractive about the male gender as a whole) I simply felt more compelled to say something like this instead:

Basically, the KOD blog, for me, is a pleasant moment from time to time where I can abandon the turbulent and often miserable thoughts that are going on in my head in favor of someone else's...turbulent... and miserable... thoughts. In this case, Niko's.

It is a mirror for my own life, a means to help bring clarity to my own perception, opinions and beliefs. Does that mean that every time I read KOD I finish with radiant excitement at how I can relate to everything and it's like "OMG Niko, like, totally gets me ROFL"? No. In fact, in a given article I will agree with a bit here and disagree with a bit there, and it is this very process of critical assessment that provides me with a more clear perspective of what I believe on whichever topic is being discussed.

At times it forces me to realize that I don't have a solid foundation for a particular perspective of mine and it prompts me to solidify my outlook. Other times, it will force me to investigate a thought or topic that I undoubtably wouldn't have even thought of were it not for this here blog-y thingamajigger!

So huzzah to the... um... blog-keep! Keep up the Deprecate-y good work in this, the 2010th year after the birth of our lord and saviour Jesus the Christ!

***

You can check out more brilliance, creativity and hilarity from Thomas and Daniel Drinnen by checking out these pre-approved (by me) websites:
Lo-ku
Urizen
Noetik

WRAP IT UP ALREADY

There you have it folks.

Right there.

Ish.

That should keep you busy for a while, and give you enough personal motivation to finally come to the horrible realization that you will never get this time back.

Ever.

Next week I'll be delving, in detail, into the murky realms of 2009, to breeze through a series of personally-profound, life-altering moments, by compressing them into one super-abridged essay. (Kind of like how the entirety of hundreds of years worth of ancient Roman existence, culture, events, knowledge, politics, economics, society and spirituality can be distilled into one highschool text book).

Toodles.

You might also be interested in:

New Year, Absence, And Visual Spifftacular

2010-01-03T12:41:00.002-07:00

[EDIT: Looks like I wrote this post too fast. I will forever be tarnished with a stupid spelling mistake in the address of this post! Oh, sweet shame! Why do you taunt me so!!]

Yo, yo, yo biznitches.

So, here we are in another arbitrary cut off point in our man-made cycle of time calculations.

By which I mean 2010.

Neat.

Obviously I took a bit a of a break at the end of the year, but only for the reason that most of you were doing the same. No one does anything.

(Stupid end of year!).

I considered writing a piece on why I don't like Christmas, but decided against it, as it just seemed too... well... too obvious.

"Of course I don't like Christmas, right? What a trite idea." Everyone would expect that from me.

Though, perhaps if I do it in the right way, I might be able to make it work later on. Hmm... maybe.

Otherwise, You may have noticed that I've been "spiffing up" the King Of Deprecation blog. (Please notice. PLEEEEEEEAAAASEEEE. I depend on your Outside Validation for my self image).

I now have a three-column layout which makes things easier to find (which is why I immediately cluttered it up again so you would be confused).

I also added huge social networking buttons to the top and bottom of every post, as I figure these should scream out subconsciously to everyone, "click me!!!". Yes, this is just me trying to manipulate you into helping me promote myself.

(Pretty good eh?)

I have a few retrospective-style blogs I'm working on right now with additional commentary by a few of my readers (see: friends I bribed to help me), and have a bunch more ideas of things to overly-dissect going forward, including some pretty big personal revelations I had about myself at the very end of the year (the goal, of course, is to enjoy my story, then apply the idea to yourself, you see. You know? Self help? Life lessons? Feh! Never mind.)

Thanks for the support, comments, and criticisms.

I'll be getting back into the swing of posting very soon. (Wait. Isn't this a post? So technically, this is "the swing of things" then. Damn it! I'm in the swing already!!!)

"Nooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

*Falls of cliff*

Outside Validation

2009-12-18T15:10:00.000-07:00

Boy, we sure love to think of ourselves as self-sustaining, confident need-nothings.

It's obviously an ego-based idea, and that's why it's so common.

Sure, we can get by for a while on our own, doing our own thing, making our own way, but eventually our subconscious social nature sneaks up on us and demands attention.

You know that picture you drew? The one you spent all of that time on? The one you're really proud of? Are you really sure it's good?

You know how you like to think of yourself as a really intelligent person? Are you really sure you are?

You think you're pretty funny too, don't you? What if you aren't?

Just like most things, encouragement from an outside source can make or break our image of ourselves and inspire us to strive for more, or completely give up.

So are we really that dependent on the approval of others?

I don't know, what do you think?

...(waiting desperately).

WHERE'S DEPRECATION BEEN MAN?

I'm a pathetic whore for outside validation.

I had my sad realization that I was not the cool rebel that I thought myself to be a while ago.

As a relevant example, I'll look at this very blog. *Does*

Before I decided to really put a good deal of effort into writing my silly observations on myself and the world on a consistent basis, I was of the mind that my sporadic essays on random things we're unappreciated and unread, or even hated (that one hasn't changed).

Generally my posting frequency was about one blog every three months.

It wasn't until someone I knew directly told me that not only had he read my blogs, but he actually enjoyed what I had to say!

*spit take*

Wha?

I was honestly confused and beside myself (and confused). Someone actually read that crap, and somehow, seemed to enjoy my emotionally-laden perspectives on things?

He asked me when I was going to post again, and seemed to show genuine interest, not just that "I'm being nice to you, but I don't really want to read more of your stupid blogs" thing.

It was small, short and simple.

And that stuck with me.

Things were suddenly different. I had an audience now. Someone enjoyed what I did, and I now had new motivation to do it more often.

See?

Did I have the confidence in myself to just go for it on my own? No. It took an encouraging word from someone else to inspire me.

Thanks Edy!

FREUD SUPPORTS YOU, LITTLE FELLA

It's interesting how far of an impact not getting the approval we seek can have.

I have friends whose parents never supported them in their creative endeavors.

They (not the parents) had a talent and a passion for music, or art or something creative, and even when they (not the parents) showed great improvements and excitement for what they (not the parents) were doing, they (the parents) would not get even the slightest "That sounds/looks really good!" or "You're really improving," or the very enthusiastic, "Would you play/write/draw something for me?"

It's really quite Freudian. Constantly seeking that elusive missing validation from those you most wanted it from. In many cases, our own parents.

So what about this said impact from lack of outside validation?

Well, those very same friends who never got encouraged, yet were so full of talent, are struggling and conflicted now.

I often hear stories from these people about their previous home lives, and the lack of support their parents "showed" them regarding their hobbies, and passions. They (not the parents) want to work on their areas of talent, but it's quite apparent how much discouragement has rubbed off on them (from their parents).

Sometimes all it takes is a small word of enthusiasm and support to send someone off in a better direction.

A simple positive word for the child can go a long way towards inspiring them, just as a negative word can go a long way towards derailing them.

Does that mean there is a direct correlation between encouragement and success? Or at least encouragement and drive?

Well, it appears, in my non-scienfic studies, that there is something.

How much I'm not sure.

By the way, that picture you drew really sucks.

YOU'RE SO CONFIDENT

"I don't care what people think about me!"

I'm sure you've heard people who say such bold statements, usually loudly, and in the company of many.

Perhaps you, yourself, have said the same thing before?

As I mentioned in the preamble, it's a common thought for many of us that we're independent rebels, who need no approval or permission from anyone to do anything.

Right?

Yeah!

...man.

If you wear certain clothes, perhaps clothes that people around you do not wear, you may get a playful jab, or even a threatening insult from those who disapprove.

Most of us are quite conscious of this, and take these things to heart.

But some of us, feel compelled to respond with the ever-so-cool "I don't give a shit what others think about me! I just do my own thing."

Whoa!

Awesome!

You really are totally self-confident!

I mean, you proved me wrong man.

...Except for the fact that you are not only lying to those that overhear the statement, but to yourself as well.

Why?

Think of it this way:

If you really did not care about the opinions of others, then why did you proclaim, so loudly, in front of as many people as possible, your proud defiance of validation from your peers? Hmmm?

Could you, by chance, be seeking approval and respect for the fact that you claim to seek no approval or respect?

People could be pretty impressed by your self confidence, don't you think?

No, of course not.

My fault.

That was stupid.

You don't care what everyone else thinks of you.

(You just want their approval for appearing to not care what they think).

VALIDATING ENVINITY

One of my most vulnerable areas is also, obviously, one of my most confident areas.

My music.

Specifically my music project Envinity.

It's a strange and violent mix of emotions and perspectives that go into how I feel about what I do.

If you've read many of my recent blogs, you'll know that I talk a lot about dichotomy.

Two opposing opinions or emotions on the same topic.

And music delivers this for me in spades (straight flush bitches!).

It is within this extremely narrow niche that I am the most cocky, over-confident and powerful. When I create, I feel like a God. It's as if I will a unique universe into being with just my mind.

Oh man, it can be an amazing feeling!

And it's not just the creation.

It's music in general.

I usually feel that I know more about music composition than those around me. That I understand broader concepts about how music affects people psychologically and emotionally (hey, I told you I can be cocky here).

Now that I've got all of that out of the way, we get to the ever-popular dichotomy part.

Even though I'm able to feel so self-assured and confident in my abilities as a composer, it's also, as I said earlier, the area in which I'm most sensitive and fragile.

You'd think all of that confidence I just spoke of would allow me to remain steadfast in my opinion of my own creations, but they don't.

Any dissenting vote, or nay sayer will almost instantly cripple me emotionally, and turn me from the most cocky, arrogant person, into the most insecure, confused, and broken person.

Additionally, I never really feel that something I've done is worth a damn, until a complete stranger validates it for me.

Not a friend. Not a band member. Not family.

A complete stranger. With no reason to say anything positive, other than the fact that they truly like it.

So why can't I just stick to my guns, when I know that something I've done is good?

OUTSIDE VALIDATION AS A TOOL

Although most of this probably sounds like outside validation is some kind of weakness, or that it's a crutch for those that are not confident enough in themselves, outside validation can actually be a valuable tool, if used in the right way and with the right people.

One of my first good blogs close to my current writing style, was a blog written at the end of 2008 called, "Self Perception: What A Beautiful Thing!" In essence it was a blog written out of the then startling realization that we generally see ourselves quite inaccurately compared to the person we are in the world.

More specifically, in my view, self perception is how we would LIKE to see ourselves.

And since we cannot ever see ourselves without the bias of BEING ourselves, we need to rely on outside validation to confirm or deny our preconceptions of who we think we are.

Using outside validation in this way requires that you have a friend or family member
that you trust, and most importantly, a person who is not afraid to tell you the truth, even when they know it may not make you feel good emotionally.

Watch for other's reactions to what you do and say. Does that reflect the image you have of yourself?

How do people treat you, and what does that say about who you are, or how you act?

Were you even aware that you act that way, or say things like that?

I bet you weren't.

The never-ending quest to discover who you really are is one of the most important journeys you can ever attempt. (So says me).

And having things within yourself validated from an outside source, can help you see more accurately the person you really are.

Potentially.

THIN-SKINNED AND FRAGILE

I see now, that I am more sensitive and fragile than I previously thought.

I have a stunning track record of giving up easily in the face of opposition (in some areas, not all). The slightest negative comment sends me spinning for days, weeks, or even months (some I've held onto for years).

All this shows me, is my lack of confidence in myself. My lack of trust in my own ideas. Yes, there are times when I can exude, true or not, a sort of charismatic determination and confidence in my own ideas, but it's not the norm.

It would be nice to not be so needy of outside validation for everything I do, and everything I am.

Why do I devalue myself so?

Where does this fragility come from?

Why does my own opinion of something not suffice?

Why do I place such emphasis on a word from others?

Throughout this last year or so, my weaknesses (which are plentiful), have come welling up to the surface, ripe for self-examination.

And this is but one of them.

But is it also one of yours?

Are we really as independent, confident, and self-assured as we would like to think we are?

Perhaps you may be, but I'm definitely not.

Well, unless you think I am, because I value your opinion.

Related blogs:
Focus On My What?
Your Self Projection Had Potential!
I Resent Your Happiness
Run In With The Beautiful People
Self Perception: What A Beautiful Thing!

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

The Ebb And Flow... And Ebb

2009-12-10T11:28:00.000-07:00

And flow.

It's trite and overused (which is why I'm using it), but there is an old adage that says, "the only thing constant is change."

I think I've experienced enough of life so far to see that everything in my existence has been somehow cyclical. My emotions, perspectives, motivations, interests, even my underwear.

Only a few months back I went through one of my lowest periods ever. To mark the special occasion I wrote a blog about the idea of suicide (It's whimsical and joy-filled. I suggest you read it).

Then I found myself swept up in a sudden flurry of busyness with creative projects, and discovered that my personal satisfaction seemed to be closely tied to my personal productivity.

Now that I've just released my 3rd album, I'm again plunged back into the murky waters of aimless confusion, depression, and restlessness.

So will I forever be stuck in an extreme game of either or, one or the other? Or can a middle ground ever be found? If it can be found do I want it?

It seems that change, is indeed constant.

INPUT AND OUTPUT PHASES

One cycle that has been quite prominent in my life lately is that of the input and output phases.

At the end of 2008 I went through a huge input phase, where all I could do was read, and read some more.

One book led to three, three to five, and five to ten. I felt like a sponge for new knowledge. I watched hundreds of online documentaries and Youtube videos, and researched brand new intellectual territory for me.

It was wonderful. I felt alive. On fire.

It was like a thirst that could never be quenched.

Eventually I became so full with new ideas and information, that I needed to put some of that new found energy back out into the world.

And that's when everything flipped.

No longer did I crave new knowledge. Now all I cared about was creating something.

Again I was consumed with my own projects, driven by an unseen force, perhaps madness itself, to continually create, to channel all of this new energy into something substantial.

When I get really into an output phase, I almost shut off regular life completely. I hardly talk to friends, I almost never go out of the house, and I have no respite or relaxation (or for the kids, "chilaxation"). It's all about the project for that point in time, and nothing else.

And then the project is done.

I'm empty. I'm spent.

I can't start a new project yet until I fill up again.

But I can't fill up again until I feel the itch.

Which leaves me at the bottom of curve, with nothing.

...Except a sandwich.

EMOTIONAL HIGHS AND LOWS

I don't think anyone wants to say that they're bipolar, so I tend to describe myself as prone to intense mood swings.

Totally different.

But it does not change the fact that I'm depressed again.

Apparently that didn't take long.

My emotional high and lows are sometimes connected to my input and output phases.

But not always.

I've had great emotional highs during all-consuming input phases where I'm excited about the new things I'm learning, as well as during productive output phases where I'm creating something new, and vice versa with emotional lows. (No, it's not "vice-a versa", nor is it "ying" yang).

I have moments where I am elated and triumphant, where I feel that I can accomplish anything (which usually don't last long), and then I can plunge into the depths of depression and anger, where everything is hopeless and bleak.

Just like Colorado weather. We can have sun, rain, snow, and sun again in the same day. It makes no sense. And neither do most of my emotions (those stupid fuckers).

I should see by now that I live a life of EXTREMES DUDE!!!! (No, no, no. I'm not that cool. Just emotional extremes. But out of curiosity, did you just picture me snowboarding off of a mountain top in slow motion clutching a Mountain Dew?).

I picture my emotional path like a sine wave.

A continual up and down of experience.

And even though I have been this way since puberty, perhaps even before, I still don't feel comfortable with it.

My extreme lows still bother me greatly, and always feel so unexpected, even though, by now, they should be expected.

I'm not going to change my emotional psyche, so all I can do is learn to accept my fluctuating emotional states, and use them to my benefit when they arrive.

I'll let you know how that goes.

SOCIAL AND ANTISOCIAL

Yet another in my ebb and flow cycles.

For the most part, I've always considered myself NOT a people person.

Perhaps it is because I spend so much time alone, and that most of my real passions are 85% solitary.

Sure, that makes sense, but there's more to it. (I'm sure you saw that coming).

I have a self-perpetuation cycle of not understanding people, fearing people, not liking people, and then purposefully pushing myself away from them which causes more lack of understanding et cetera.

But even with that in mind, I am still a human being (sadly), and humans are social creatures. I can't fight it (well), it's in our brains. We crave interaction, we desire companionship.

So even though I want nothing more (sometimes) than to be completely on my own, isolated from society and looking down on everyone from my self-constructed tower of insecurity-based elitism with a burning scorn for all humanity...

... every few years I find myself in an overwhelmingly social environment.

And what's stranger is that I like it. (Well, sort of. Parts of it. For a while. Kind of).

Usually these moments of odd social cravings are linked to my input phases. And being social is essentially that, input.

My longest big social phase lasted a few years strong, as I became a regular and an employee at a series of connected goth/industrial clubs. I DJ'ed in them (for a while), I worked the door at one, and I went out on my nights off to drink and "socialize" with all of the regulars and staff.

Everyone knew me and I knew... a few of them.

It was a great emotional high (Oooo! More connections!), but like anything, and especially for me, that phase had its abrupt, dramatic and life-changing end.

I died.

(Metaphorically).

Thank god. Fuck that. I don't need people anyway. I'm self-sufficient! I have greater things to work on!

... Except that those projects are done now, and I'm starting to get that people itch again.

Wait!

No!

I don't want to!!

Shit, yes I do!

FUCK!

PROFUNDITY AND WHO CARES?

My ebb and flow across the many areas of my life even extends to philosophy.

Over the last year or so, I've been consumed with philosophy and social psychology.

Every event in my life, or events that happen to those around me, are constantly over-analyzed, and picked apart from every conceivable angle (missionary, doggy-style, etc).

For a while, the deeper I would go with an idea, peeling off layer after layer, the concept would take on greater significance and meaning (personal meaning).

Even the most mundane action, thought or observation could suddenly be extrapolated to mean something amazingly profound about existence in general, and even myself!

It is these moments that fill me full of an infectious electric optimism about my own life (don't laugh, I'm serious). Not in a new age pseudo-spiritual kind of way, but in a very practical, realistic, personal way.

That's the "flow".

And then there is the ebb.

When everything that impacted me so profoundly and so deeply suddenly takes on a new level of "deepness".

When I strip down the layers of meaning and subtlety in any conceptual idea, I find myself at the bottom of it all, which consists of the simplest and most defeatist phrase:

"So what?"

Sometimes every introspective moment brings me nothing but excitement and personal meaning, and then the coin flips and lands on "who cares". Same idea, same train of thought. Two conclusions.

Either the things I do are interesting, important and worth doing, or they are pointless and amount to nothing in the end, and if so, "who cares" right?

Damn this back and forth!

Why can't I just stay inspired?

Because what does it matter? That's why!

Inspiration?

So what!?

Who cares!?

I do! I care!

... Wait, no I don't again.

GAH!!!!!

GET USED TO IT!

There are many more aspects of my life in which this stupid ebb and flow concept rear their stupid heads stupidly (like an idiot).

My ever complicated personal perspectives on love and relationships for one (I'll save that for a whole blog of its own).

As I've said many times, I should be getting used to it by now. It's not as if this just started the other day. But, in fairness, I have only been fully conscious of it recently.

For being almost 29, I sure have not learned much.

Again, the best medicine I could possible prescribe myself is that of acceptance.

I feel that I'm constantly trying to fight who I am (in more ways than one), which as you might imagine, makes things a bit more difficult for myself (a smidgen).

If I could just accept that I will, for the foreseeable future, be forever going back and forth, fluctuating in nearly every aspect of my life, then perhaps I can control it, in a way.

But that takes time.

As with any problem to solve, awareness is the first step.

And I'm now aware that my one constant is constant change, and I'd like to change my continual inconsistencies.

Does anyone else feel subjected to these maddening cycles?

Related blogs:
Focus On My What?
The Depression Panacea
Artistic Integrity And The Dichotomy Of Success
I Resent You Happiness
Too Early For Suicide?

If you liked this blog, I'd really appreciate a simple gesture of sharing it on Facebook, Twitter, StumbleUpon, or Digg! Thanks for reading.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

BUY MY GODDAMN STUFF!!!!!!!

2009-12-06T16:04:00.000-07:00

HEY!!!

*ahem*

Sorry...

Although I think Christmas and Hanukkah are both equally stupid, and view participating in either archaic ritual completely ridiculous, the point is that YOU don't think that.

Therefore, to capitalize on your interest in these pointless things (and to be dichotomous about the whole commercialism thing... when in Rome...), I've created not one, not three, but FIVE new products in my awesome DeprecationWear store!!

What does that mean to you?

Well!

Since you feel obligated to buy gifts for friends and family (suckas!), why not support me instead, and buy some unique, sarcastic, and humorous merchandise for your more quirky and irreverent acquaintances!

How could you possibly pass up on these gems:

CONGRATULATIONS!

you're mediocre

An awesome shirt letting everyone know you think they are sub par (which they are).

Yes, that was sarcasm.

Sometimes people just don't get it unless you have it in writing and tap it condescendingly.

I'm a fucking douche bag!

The most blunt thing I've made. A beer mug for the ironic hipsters, and the complete fucking douche bags you know. They both drink beer.

You have a lot of

POTENTIAL!

That wasn't a compliment

Straight from my recent blog about potential, now you can "compliment" someone with an insult!

Who needs a yin
with this much yang?

And finally, an ode to independence. Or rather, in defiance against co-dependency. It's also vaguely sexual sounding. I wonder how that happened?

Well there you go folks. Five new products to fill your end-of-year purchasing lust.

C'mon!

BUY MY GODDAMN STUFF!!!!

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Focus On My What?

2009-12-03T09:54:00.001-07:00

No, not that.

But thanks for thinking it.

What I'm talking about here is an odd discovery about myself. Just recently, I've happened upon a strange set of buried ideologies and beliefs ingrained within me that have been hindering me my whole life.

Here I am approaching 29 years of age, and I'm only now seeing this in myself.

And what is this discovery of mine that's holding me back so?

I'm beginning to see that almost throughout my entire existence, at least my adult existence, I've never made 'enjoying my life' a priority.

It's as if I never cared, or it just didn't matter.

Isn't that weird?

What kind of a person avoids being happy in everyday life?

A broken one, that's what.

WHEN IS A HOUSE NOT A HOME?

When it's ajar...

In the nearly two years of living at my apartment, I've never taken the time, nor cared to make it my home. It's always just been "the place that I stay".

And there's quite a difference.

Why would I not want the place I spend most of my time to reflect the person I am? Why would I not want to make it a sanctuary for enjoyment and relaxation, for inspiration and social interaction?

Why indeed.

Everyone else's apartments are decorated and cozy feeling. A representation of the people they are. An inviting friendly atmosphere that says "sit down, and spend some time here".

My apartment?

"God there's a lot of shit on the ground! How long have those dishes been sitting there? This room looks like shit. Don't even see the bathroom. Get out of here as soon as you can."

And what has been the main source of the junk and space-taking in my place?

My studio stuff. Keyboards, computers, cables, mics, software boxes, etc. That's what takes up the room. Not anything resembling a traditional, welcoming home, or a place others would want to live.

No couches, no TV, nothing on my walls, nowhere to hang out, nowhere to eat.

What does that say about me?

Soon. One more story first.

THE REVERSE 90/10 PHILOSOPHY

Almost eight years ago I was in the market for a new automated transportation unit.

The car I was coming from was very me, and I loved driving it.

A dying 1984 Volkswagen Rabbit convertible, white on white. It was awesome. I really loved that car.

But now that she was on her death... bed (what do cars lay on when dying figuratively?), I needed a new A to B machine.

Instead of finding another cute, small, fun car that reflected my personality, I ended up getting a bulky, gas-guzzling Ford Explorer.

So why did I get it?

Practicality. But offset practicality, which I did not see until later.

At the time, I live in the mountains, and winters can be pretty treacherous during snow storms, so I needed a vehicle with four wheel drive.

Check.

I also was playing shows with other bands (and planning on eventually playing my own) and felt guilty that I had the most equipment to bring (drums), and had the smallest car (the Rabbit), leaving everyone else to transport my stuff.

So I also wanted something that could carry drums and amps and the like.

Check.

And these things are fine reasons to get this car... assuming I drove on ice and hauled equipment the majority of the year.

Which I didn't.

Later I realized that I was buying the car for the things I did only 10% of the time. The remaining 90% of the time the "Exploder" becomes a needless waste of materials, an armored tank that chugs fuel, takes up too much space in a parking lot, and simply gets me to my destination.

And I hate driving it. In fact, I hate driving in general. And all because of this very un-me automobile.

Perhaps I could apply this story and observation to my life in general somehow?

SO WHERE HAS THE FOCUS BEEN?

Those may seem like disparate stories of random things, but they are just two outward examples of how I've acted in regards to, and viewed my everyday life.

As I mentioned before, I place a huge emphasis on things few people seem to care about:

Creativity.

Art (in the broad sense).

Music.

Philosophy.

My personal projects have defined who I am for years now (see: "The Depression Panacea"). I don't exist outside the projects, I am the projects. All the rest of the things I do (which probably make up about 80 to 90% of my waking existence) I frown upon, as if that part is not really living. It doesn't count.

It's like I have not allowed myself to enjoy anything outside of doing my creative projects.

I'm taking the biggest chunk of my life and writing it off as irrelevant, as compared to the creation of my self-indulgent art.

And where does that leave me?

Triumphant and elated?

...Not so much.

How about unhappy. Lonely. Confused. Depressed.

I thought I was supposed to feel so fulfilled, so accomplished and so satisfied?

HOW DID I GET HERE?

Looking around me and my life as if for the first time, I wonder how I got here.

The only way it makes any sense at all is that I must have lost track of things.
Life happened to me. Generic, but that's how it feels right?

Obviously I wouldn't do this to myself on purpose right?

Well, maybe not so obviously...

Because after some thought I came to a crazy revelation:

I have intentionally created the place in life I am currently at.

What?!

Why? How? Sentence fragment?

As a teenager, being more prone to drama and flights of emotional fancy, I would imagine my life in the future with music, and myself as the biography-worthy tormented artist type.

A person who would purposely sabotage his chances for happiness so that he could be inspired to write the next amazing piece of music. A person who would literally compromise his whole life for the art.

Why?

It felt.

It had energy.

It was dramatic and interesting.

People would want to read about that character, and make movies based around him. He was a living tragedy, but one who also created many beautiful things that touched people.

At the time, that was the person I aspired to be. One who was perpetually unhappy, but used that emotion for (potentially) brilliant pieces of art and music.

And subconsciously I've held that vision intact. I have, consciously or not, followed that path to its semi-logical conclusion.

Here.

I did this.

And I'm still doing it today.

But now something's changed...

A NEW VOICE

In the last year I've been hearing faint whispers in my subconscious.

(No, don't worry, not real voices. These are metaphorical, you know, to tell a better story right now... you know? C'mon...)

In a way it's nothing new, as my inner heartbeat pulses the same self-sabotaging way it always has.

But this is different.

Something is odd.

A new inner voice has entered the stage. A strange new notion that seems almost absurd and at the same time, immensely attractive.

It runs in stark opposition to my old voice that preached the gospel of the lonely, depressed, yet creative artist persona. It's a voice that tells me that I want to...

... I want to...

...*gulp*

.... enjoy my life.

THE ROADBLOCKS OF RATIONALIZATION

"What?!? Are you insane?!?!?

You can't enjoy your life. You're incapable!

If you suddenly become happy, you'll lose all of the power and inspiration and will only be able to write stupid happy songs!!

Think of it!!

One four five chord patterns all over the place. Happy lyrics!! Just like in Kids In The Hall: Brain Candy. Do you want to write 'Happiness Pie'?

Of course you don't!

Your art will go down hill, and you will become boring, dull, and uninteresting. Everything that makes you unique will shrivel up and die!

You will become normal!

NORMAL!!"

And so goes my brain.

I've created these reasons in my mind of why I'm justified to live an unhappy existence, why I should never make my personal life a priority, why I should be alone, why I can only be a stereotypical artist, et cetera.

Are they valid?

Do they have any basis in reality?

I'm not sure.

I've always associated my personal happiness in regular life, with the death of my creative inspiration. No evidence really, only random stories I've heard about people who used to create and don't, now that they have a family or a career.

I've also felt that I don't deserve to be happy, or perhaps that I am literally incapable of achieving such a goal, as if it is not part of my neural chemistry.

But it does sound rather silly when I say it out loud. Really? I can't write anything emotional, or be creative if I enjoy more of my daily life? Despite a few examples of the negative, I actually know people directly who have a good personal life, and can still be creative just fine.

And, no, they don't only make happy things.

So does that mean that I'm just rationalizing? Is there a chance for me to WANT to be alive, and still have the inspiration to create the things I'm passionate about?

What a startling new idea!

MAKING A CHANGE

So here I am.

Going against over a decade of subconscious inner mantra that says I cannot be happy, and if I could, I shouldn't. That my creativity is more important than enjoying the one life I most likely have to exist in.

"So are you giving up on your life as a creatively focused person?"

No.

Creativity will always be a part of me, and changing my life slowly to accommodate new priorities is in no way an 'either or' switch. It's about being a little more balanced. Both can be done at the same time.

At least in theory.

And so I start out on a strange new quest in my life (well, strange for me at least).

Almost three decades into my life I've suddenly realized I want to actually enjoy things.

I'm going to try to focus on my life.

Related blogs:
Your Self-projection Has Potential!
Internal And External Priorities
The Depression Panacea
I Resent Your Happiness

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Revenge Of Jehovah's Witnesses

2009-11-23T15:46:00.000-07:00

Sit down, grasshopper, and I shall tell you an epic tale of swashbuckling battles, crushing personal defeats, and divine triumphs!

I sat at the computer checking my usual round of websites, blogs, news and videos, as I sipped on my morning coffee. I felt especially groggy that morning, and the coffee slowly helped to make me aware of being awake.

After laughing out loud to a particularly humorous video, I heard the sound of knocking on the door of the apartment next to me.

I live in a converted old victorian building in the heart of Denver, and my housemate next door often has a friend of two over for wine, food and music. His brother also lives in the apartment downstairs, so people knocking on his door is not unusual.

A moment passed, I heard the sound of two women talking quietly outside his door, which is also outside my door.

Two women eh? Sounds steamy.

Another moment and another knock.

I guess he was not home. "I wonder who was trying to talk with him," I thought briefly.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

And now I had my answer.

I knew who it was. It could only be Jehovah's Witnesses.

"Awesome!" I said to myself with a smile.

PREPARING FOR BATTLE

Awesome?

Yes. I, like most normal people, used to politely turn them away at my door saying that I was not interested, or something similar. I've always used a sort of awkward politeness to handle the situation, but that never seemed to work.

They will bombard you and overwhelm you as fast as they can before you have a chance to really think about it. It's happened to me before.

And I usually leave the situation feeling somewhat raped, staring into nothingness, still clutching the Watchtower magazine they hypnotized me into taking.

Which is why I've taken the easy way out after that, by simply cowering behind my couch as if no one was home (though the TV blasting might have given me away).

I know some people who can be blatantly rude to them, and honestly, I wish I had the balls to do the same. I mean it is extremely arrogant and impolite to go right up to someone's door and begin preaching to them about how everything you believe is wrong.

"You're an idiot and a terrible person, sir, now take this literature saying the same thing. Have a lovely day!"

Fuck you! Honestly.

Who else does that? (Besides the milk man).

I've realized that dealing with Jehovah's Witnesses is like a game of wits. A battle if you will.

And so far, I've lost every one. And I feel like a spineless pushover.

But no, not this time!

Oh no!

This time I actually want to talk to them.

It just so happens that in the last year or so I've been reading up on a lot of information about religion and Christianity in particular. Books, essays, videos, documentaries and discussions. This would be my first encounter with Jehovah's Witnesses, now that I had some background in the subject and ammunition on my side.

This time I was ready.

To quote nearly every terrible action movie ever made:

"Let's do this!"

*sound of shot gun being pumped*

(I would have also accepted, "Let's rock and roll!!!!!")

MEET THE WITNESSES

As I approached the door, I began to worry a bit, thinking that I might suddenly freeze up, or forget all of the good arguments I had learned, instead standing there going, "well, uh... uh... but if you read.... um... what about... uhhhhh...". Obviously that would be no fun, nor something I could share with the ol' grandkids. Plus it would leave me in the same molested and broken state I so vividly remember from my past encounters.

Oh, pathetic past version of self, I will avenge thee!!

I opened the door to see my assumptions confirmed.

Two ladies stood at the top of the steps, one, an older white lady (perhaps late middle aged) with a round shape, and one younger black girl, pretty, who wore a light blue flowery dress, which seemed a bit old-fashioned.

The older lady held a bible, and a few pamphlets under her arm.

"Hello, sir," the older lady started. She was obviously the mentor, no, the LEADER of the pair, and I assumed the one who was going to do all of the talking. This was to be my opponent.

I smiled and nodded. (I was getting nervous, but also filled with excitement. This was it....).

She noticed that I did not slam the door in her face, nor did I make a negative face as the sight of their presence (as most people surely do), which I'm sure was both refreshing and scary for her. She saw she was being given the opportunity to talk, and wasted no time in getting to her opening hook.

I took a breath.

All right, lady. "Let's dance!!"

*Three shot guns being pumped*

THE END TIMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The tension was thick.

What would be her first move? What cards would she deal me? And would I really be prepared enough to duel?

I had a moment of doubt.

And then it started.

"What do you think is happening, when you look at the world these days...?"

Okay, okay. Here we go. Think man. What is she getting at? Keep it vague for a while...

"What do you mean exactly?" I inquired.

The lady looked a bit nervous to me. Could she be feeling the heat of combat as well? One can only hope.

The younger girl stood firm with a smile, and gave me eye contact, the older lady, the one who was doing all of the talking, almost never looked at me directly in the eyes. My shirt seemed to occupy a lot of her gaze, as did the floor, or the wall next to me.

Interesting.

She continued.

"Well, when you see everything on TV, like... the... people killing their families, and babies dying... and... the terrible things going on... what do you think is happening?"

Ah ha! So we're going this route eh? Well I'm not going to give you even a crumb! Take this:

"I think it's the same thing that's been happening throughout history," I said, as honestly as I could without appearing too smug. (Too late).

"Mmm Hmm," she dismissed me.

Well played.

"Well we believe," she began to explain as she opened up one of her pamphlets, "... that this is a sign of the end times spoken about in the bible."

You see how she did not even inquire into why I thought what I did, and just pushed directly into what she wanted to say? That's good. That's because she could give two shits about what I really think. She knows I'm wrong, and she's trying to keep control of the conversation.

To make my first real move, I needed something more to react to, so I encouraged her.

"All right," I agreed, in that sort of 'go on' type way.

"Yes, and we also wanted to... to let you know that Jesus will usher in a new era, which will be 1000 years of peace."

Okay, this was my first opportunity to say something.

What to say, what to say?

Now I could just throw a bunch of stronger arguments out that are more aimed the the core of the belief system, but I didn't want to be too rude or overly-combative. I just wanted to make some points, and stand my ground, but in a more conversational way.

Plus if I did nothing but attack them, they would leave. And this is one of the few times I actually wanted the Jehovah's Witnesses to stay and talk with me.

Strange.

But I also know that their goal has nothing to do with having a good conversation. They just want to tell me I'm wrong and give me literature.

Well, you knocked on the wrong door my fine feathered friends.

*50 shot guns being pumped over and over*

APPEALING TO EMOTION

My turn. Start simple so you have somewhere to move up to later...

"That's one thing that I've always thought about actually." I said a bit nervously at first.

This was it. I was really going to try and battle them.

"You say that this so called thousand years of peace would have no racism, no famine, no fear, no wars, just joy and love right?"

They both smiled and nodded yes.

"Well, don't get me wrong, that sounds great, I mean, who wouldn't want to experience only joy and love?" (Actually I wouldn't, I could go into why another time, but I was trying to identify with them and make a point).

"But just like the idea of heaven, it almost seems too perfect sometimes, you know?"

(They didn't).

The lady started to open her mouth to steer the conversation back to where she wanted it. But I wasn't finished.

"Almost like it's the exact representation or our own emotions and desires. A place that's all good and everything you could desire? I don't know. It seems quite unfeasible to have a place like that, and it just, at least to me, panders too much to what we want emotionally. And that alone makes me skeptical."

She started to counter my thought. Let's see what she'll do.

"Well, this would not be heaven though. It would be a thousand year reign of Jesus as king here on Earth."

Oh, in that case, I take it all back. That is different.

Except that it does not change my thoughts about these ideas being based on our personal desires whatsoever.

Not a good counter ma'am. I have to admit I'm disappointed. What else do you have?

She then turned her book to a picture showing an overly multi-cultural group of variably-aged people in a nature setting and pointed to it saying, "See, this is what it will be like in the reign of Jesus' return. No pain, no..." (She went on down the list of things we emotionally don't like, and told me how, conveniently, those things, again, would not be present in this magical time).

This was your argument?!

I gave her a funny smirk and raised my eyebrow as I pointed at her silly picture.

"But that's just Photoshop!" I said smiling.

The young girl behind her chuckled a bit at my joke/argument. (Uh oh, her forces could be defecting!)

"Well yes," the older lady said, still looking away from my eyes, and trying to collect herself after a brief outbreak of 'slight smile'.

"But this is what it would be like".

I contained myself enough to not run immediately into "how do you know that this photoshop picture is representative of what will be?" Or laughing loudly at the notion of what she was trying to say.

(C'mon, it's damn funny. A Photoshop picture of people looking happy is supposed to convince me of something??! Really?).

If your goal is to come right up to my house, interrupt what I was doing, just to try and convince me of your religion, you'll have to do better than that.

Remember, YOU were the ones who knocked on MY door.

I'm actually ready for you! Do your worst! (I think she already did).

WHAT'S IN A DATE?

She went on a bit more, this time referencing scripture about how Jesus had predicted these things (in reference to the "bad things happening").

*Clang of swords*

Which I countered with the idea that anything "prophetic" can be retrofitted later on to match whatever you want it to match. Just like how Nostradamus' predictions were so vague that people can interpret (key word there) them to apply to almost anything (and they do).

*Blades hitting armor*

She looked a bit upset at my comparison (point for me!), but sort of kept her already nervous composure.

Okay lady. Your turn. I know you want to win this. Go!

"Well... yes... ... ... but when Jesus comes back..."

I saw a chink in the armor and I just had to interrupt.

"You're talking about the 'second coming' correct?"

"...Mmmm Hmmm..." She nodded, visibly frustrated at not being able to finish her usual pre-rehearsed talking points. Sorry lady, I can't let you get off that easy.

"Doesn't it say in the bible that Jesus himself told his followers that he would come back within their lifetime?"

The older lady kept her eyes on the floor, trying to think of something to say. "Well..."

Not fast enough. I couldn't hide the smile on my face as I continued the mental chess match.

"If I'm correct, nowhere in the bible does it say that Jesus is supposed to come back in 2000 years. He was supposed to come back in the time of his followers. That's what he said. Which I believe he did not do."

Check mate.

"Well... what He said... was... that He will return as He left us..."

I cut her off again, as what she was saying was not at all, in any way, shape or form a logical response to what I said. I'm guessing she did not have an answer for that one.

Point lost lady. This is YOUR religion, not mine.

"I'm sure he did," I 'agreed', in probably a more condescending way than I intended.

(I seem to do that more than I want).

BECOMING PERFECT

At this point I could tell that the women was quite irritated. Here she comes to the door expecting to simply overwhelm some unsuspecting joe with a whirlwind of quotes, figures, and fear mongering, and what does she get? Some cocky young kid who has the audacity to match her arrogant belief-peddling with arrogant questions and arguments.

She wasn't happy. But she did not give up. I could tell, she wanted to win this almost as much as I did.

The young lady behind her still seemed calm and observant, and not at all involved in the sweat of the epic battles that were taking place only a few feet away from her.

My rotund sparring partner flashed me a quick condescending smile and opened another one of her books.

I readied my shield.

"But the point was that he will return us all to be perfect, like the way he created Adam and Eve" she inferred, I mean... knew factually.

"Whoa, whoa whoa. Hold on there..." I said with a knowing smile.

(That makes me sound like a condescending dick too, which I definitely can be. But this time, I was just making up for all of the lost battles from before. I needed to play the same game they were playing).

"Adam and Eve were not perfect." I stated.

"Um... yes they were, because they were created by God as perfect." she said, treating me like a child who does not know any better.

Ouch! Good counter this time, lady. How to get around this... ah ha!

"Um no," I defended. "If they were truly perfect then there never would have been The Fall. Eve never would have been tempted, because being susceptible to temptation is not perfect. And she never would have done something God told her not to do, because dishonesty is not perfect. Same goes for Adam. Therefore Adam and Eve were not perfect."

Boo-yah!! I'm actually pretty proud of that argument, as that one was not memorized or rehearsed. That was entirely off the cuff.

I could tell I made a decent hit on her with that one. I imagined it like a philosophical video game, visualizing her life bar at the top moving down a few points.

The younger black girl still smiled at me and nodded, as if she was actually listening to what I was saying. Why was she not joining in? You'd think with two against one they could really crush me.

For a brief moment, in the metaphorical smoke of my deft blow, I wondered why.

The older white lady began countering my observation with a speech about free will.

She was visibly not enjoying this.

Funny. For once in my life, I was.

GOD IS LOVE

Her next talking point to me was the ever-happy, and emotionally-pandering idea that, "God is love." Boy, that sure sounds nice huh?

This, after a long speech about how we can choose to worship him, or choose to be punished for not doing so (you know, 'free will').

"Hmm... god is love, you say?"

They both nodded, but this time suspiciously. They knew I would not make this easy for them anymore. But hey, if you're going to go out and be a door to door missionary, you better be up on your game. And this was one of my only chances to make up for my awful and tragic defeats of the past.

I took in a deep breath, and charged up my special weapon.

"How can you say god is love, when this same god not only condones, but directly orders his people to brutally slaughter," (yes, emotionally laden words), "thousands upon thousands of other tribes who did not believe the same thing, or did something that the Israelites did not approve of? The same god that says you can take all of the young girls and children of the decimated tribe as personal slaves? The same god that talks about how to sell your own daughter into slavery, and has entire chapters devoted to the handling and 'care'," (as in how much to beat them), "of slaves? And the very same god that actually condones the "dashing of babies against rocks"?! Babies!"

She glared at me a bit, and by 'me' I mean the floor. The other girl seemed more concerned than anything. Was she aware of this? Perhaps I made her think. Or perhaps she thinks I'm lying.

I concluded.

"I'm sorry, but that, to me, is not love. I would not want to be friends with someone like that. That is the work of a monster!"

The large older white lady was looking upset. Or perhaps is was just my shirt that was making her frustrated. I could tell she had this 'knowing' that I was completely wrong. About everything. Really, how could I know anything about her religion? I was some arrogant, argumentative kid in her eyes. Impossible.

She smiled a very 'you're an idiot and I'm trying to tolerate you' type of smile. She opened up her pamphlet again.

I don't think she likes me.

"Actually, we have a whole chapter on 'Why does God let bad things happen' right here in this book."

Oh ho! So she's heard that before has she? No wonder she gave me that look. Perhaps she is gaining the upper hand again?

"Oh?" I feigned interest. "Can you summarize it for me?"

I used her own momentum against her, like in Karate.

I don't think she wanted to do that. Before she started speaking, she had a mircro-second look of 'I have not actually read that chapter'. I assume I was just supposed to read it on my own, and all my concerns with the character of the Christian God would magically vanish. (Sounds reasonable).

"Well Satan tempts us all, and God wants to test us and..."

Oh that's cheep. You can rationalize anything with that throw-away defense. I'm not buying it.

I interrupted.

"So it's basically just one of those 'god is testing you' sort of explanations, like Job?"

We exchanged a quick look, and I could see in her eyes that she understood my awareness of her argument, and perhaps that I could make some points about that too. So much for answering the 'Why does God allow bad things to happen' question.

"No... not all of it." She stammered as she opened up the bible and asked if she could read me another passage from it.

"Go for it!" I encouraged. (I was feeling exhilarated at this time. I had something to add or counter to almost everything she said so far. The 'me' from years ago who had been shamed and bested by the religion delivery man would be proud).

She then read me something about 'the righteous' something or other. I know it looks bad when I don't even give you some of her arguments, but honestly, just quoting something from the bible does nothing for me.

To me the bible is just a book, and carries no more weight to it than my Adobe Illustrator instruction manual (which I obviously base my whole life around).

*Her sword hit my shield and shattered into a million pieces all over the ground*

Sorry, dear. I have immunity to that special power.

A RECOMMENDATION

I could tell that by this time they were both overwhelmed with having to defend themselves so much, and be pestered with questions and arguments. Well mostly the round, no-eye-contact lady.

The tides were turned in my favor, and my opponent seemed to be at loss for new arguments. After years of taking an emotional and mental beating at the hands of her fellow rude and pushy church members, making me feel pathetic and terrible for not only being the person I was, but also for not being able to handle myself in the "conversations" (see: murders), I had finally pulled four aces from the deck and won a single round.

It felt great.

I could tell she was itching to get away from me (though not admit defeat I suspect), so I decided to offer something to them. Or at least a recommendation.

"Hold on, I want to show you something," I said as I picked up a book that just happened to be conveniently lying on the ground by the door.

If they get to push books on me, I'll do the same. Remember, you have to play the very game that they play.

"Now I know you probably won't read it or even take a look at it," I honestly admitted. "But this is a great book from an actual biblical scholar, Bart D. Ehrman, called 'Misquoting Jesus', and it's all about the changes and mistranslations that the scriptures have gone through over time. It's really interesting."

I did my best to describe the book in a way that didn't sound like "this book will destroy your faith! Interested?"

The older lady kept her gaze far away from mine as usual, and gave me another condescending smile and a dismissive, "yes, I'm sure it is." I was still wrong. And and idiot.

Well, at least I tried.

"Wait, what was that book?" the young girl suddenly spoke up. I smiled and held it up for her, while she took out a piece of paper from her purse and wrote down the title.

I didn't expect that. Nor did my boxing partner.

Now, I'm sure she'll never read it, and was probably just trying to humor me, but it was still an interesting little moment.

Maybe she was curious? Maybe all of the things I said today made her think a bit?

Nah.

Wishful thinking.

I could almost picture the two of them walking down the street afterwards, and the older lady telling the young girl to ignore the things I brought up during the battle... I mean discussion. And that she didn't actually have to read the book that the argumentative boy suggested. After all, it was probably a heathen book and went against what they believed.

Hence bad.

RAIN CHECK PERHAPS?

By this time, the lady had obviously had her fill of dealing with me questioning everything they said, and coming back with arguments that they did not enjoy dealing with. In fact, you could tell that she would have wished, in some ways, that I would never have been home at that time.

But again, they're the one's who are going door to door pestering people about religion. I simply took them up on it.

A lot.

And really, how funny is it that normally, people are trying to do everything they can to close the door and end the conversation with Jehovah's Witnesses, and now I reversed the tables on them. They were trying to get away from me! Priceless!

For once I felt powerful, and victorious in this situation. Vindication, in some small stupid way, was mine!

"Well, it was nice meeting you," the middle aged matriarch said.

Bullshit. She was lying. You could tell she really did not like dealing with me. Or my shirt/wall/floor. Or maybe she didn't like realizing that she did not have all of the knowledge she needed to prove to me that I was wrong in every way.

"Yes, I enjoyed the conversation," I said (which was true). And since I like being honest in situations that people don't expect, I added: "And I appreciate you putting up with all of my questions and arguments. I'm sure the last thing you wanted to deal with today is an arrogant kid who thinks he knows everything."

They both smiled, and pretended that it was no big deal.

I looked at my now defeated opponent.

"I could tell that you were a bit irritated with me." I said with an empathetic smile.

Which I actually said to her.

"No... no.. of course not," she said awkwardly to my shirt.

The young lady behind her smiled kindly at me and extended her hand.

"What was your name?"

"Niko. What's yours?"

"Niko? That's nice, I like that," She bubbled. I like her. "I'm Shannon."

"Well, lovely to meet you Shannon."

"Maybe we could come by sometime again and talk about some of your concerns one by one, because you had a lot of things to say, and it's hard to address them all in a short conversation."

I agreed. Of course, it was also a way of not having to defend themselves anymore, but it's true, I did jump to many different points very quickly. But hey, so did they! Fair is fair!

"We have some 'brothers' (brothers? that sounds a bit cultish and creepy... oh well) in our church who are about your age, maybe we can have them come by later this week and talk with you in more detail," She asked.

"I'd look forward to it," I confirmed.

How strange. Me looking forward to having some Jehovah's Witnesses over to proselytize at me. Just to have an interesting discussion. Who am I anymore?

As they walked down the stairs I smiled at the cute young girl.

"And you're more than welcome to come back as well."

She smiled back.

She probably won't.

And so ends the tale of the young boy, tormented by the merciless religion-peddling dinner-interrupters, that one day grew up to become the young man who avenged his former self, and so many others, on that one fateful, magical day.

*Roll credits with Kenny Loggins "Danger Zone" music*

Related blogs:
Gardening with God
The Inefficacy Of Prayer
Existentialist Artist And Drunk Evangelist part 2
All Truth Is Relative... An Equally Not

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Your Self-Projection Has Potential!

2009-11-05T14:33:00.000-07:00

You know that feeling you get when you first realize you have emotions for someone, in which everything about them seems perfect?

There is a moment of time when everything about that person is uncannily similar to you; their interests, their hobbies, their taste in music, films and books; their goals for their life; their political opinions; hell, even their humor is exactly the same as yours!

Right?!

I mean, how crazy is that?!

It's like, you know, perfect!

Perfect. Just like the last several people you dated. (Oh! Snap!)

In this essay, I want to explore the concepts of potential and self-projection as they relate to relationships and friendships.

Sure, when I word it that way, it probably sounds dull, after all, they are big words and heady concepts.

But it suddenly becomes important when you realize that many of the things you saw in someone may not even be there at all.

So why did you think they were there in the first place?

THE POTENTIALITY PLAGUE

I guess I have trouble seeing people for who they are in the now.

Have you ever had a friend or a lover that you thought very highly of, for instance you think of them as extremely talented, or smart, or creative, or driven etc?

I see people that way all of the time.

And I'm wrong.

Almost all of the time.

So what would make me think so highly of them to begin with?

Which brings us to concept numero uno.

Potential.

I've figured out, actually several years ago, that I seem to see people for what they COULD be, as opposed to what they actually are right now.

And the difference is huge.

When I meet someone new, someone who talks about being creative, or proclaims that she has an interest in some historical event or philosophical idea, I find myself coming to the perception that this person does, or is really passionate about all of these things. You know, face value (by Phil Collins).

Sadly most people do not actually personify the things they talk about, or think they have an interest in. This is where their own self-perception comes into play. In their mind, they think they are these things, and guess what? Therefore they are.

Even recently I've had a bad track record of seeing particular people as one thing, and only seeing much later, that they really are not, at all, that thing.

And boy does that make me feel stupid. (I'll let you put your obvious insults towards me here).

THE BIG LET DOWN (POTENTIALLY)

After I had come to realize this idea that I was only seeing people for their potential, and not who they actually were, I began to dissect it, in order to find out exactly why I was doing such a shit job at seeing the reality of that person.

A while back, I dated a girl who designed and made her own clothes.

Naturally, as a creative person myself, I really loved that aspect of her.

After a while of seeing her work, I began encouraging her to start her own online business where should could have some preset designs for girls to choose from (making it easier for her) and then she could put it together and make some money doing something she was obviously good at, and seemed to enjoy.

For whatever reason, she continually shot down any idea that dealt with her doing something real with her talent. Well not for "whatever reason". It's usually the same reason for anyone. Fear.

Point is, as time went on, I began to see that even though she had a talent for this, that she never wanted to do anything with it. Well, except here and there for herself.

Did she not want to do something more than work at her typical job, drink, and party?

This made me look at every other aspect of her with a more discerning eye.

...'Cause that's what I do. (Come to think of it, that's probably part of the reason she broke up with me).

She talked about being interested in doing something with music, maybe singing with a band for fun, but never did anything about it. She claimed to be interested in some things about history or philosophy, yet she never seemed driven enough to go and learn anything directly about them. And she obviously had a talent for designing fun clothing, but never wanted to pursue anything dealing with that.

So it's not like everything she said was a lie, because it wasn't. It's just that it became clear over time that she had a lot of potential to do some interesting things with herself and her life, her talent, and her mind, and that was about it. The potential.

Well shit. If my relationship could be built around potential, what about my friendships?

THEM TOO

To some people, saying something like, "Hey, you've got a lot of potential!" is a compliment.

They smile and feel all warm and fuzzy, and respond with enthusiastic, "thank you!"

Well, not me.

Potential has become another word in my vocabulary that carries an alternative connotation, sitting on the proverbial shelf with selfishness, hope and success.

In fact, I can now use, "you've got a lot of potential," as a hidden insult to people, as most people will take it positively, even though I secretly mean it as a jab. Get it? (Feel free to use that one).

Where was I?...

Potential and friends. Yes.

Looking back I can see how many of my friendships have been based on my seeing only potential in them.

I see the person they could be one day, the heights to which they could aspire, dream, think, create, et cetera. And this is the person I peg them to be.

Which is wrong.

It is not who they are now. It's who they could be if they cared enough to try.

In one way, you could look at it as if I'm seeing the good in people.

(Okay, you can stop laughing now.)

I don't buy that either. In reality, I'm seeing a false representation of that person, an almost idealized version of their possible future.

But whose idealized vision?

THE WANT, OR LACK THEREOF

The big problem in seeing only potential in people is that people rarely live up to their potential. (I'm sure you can relate to that).

It's hard. It requires work. Working on yourself and your talents. It requires the desire to actually do/achieve/create those things for which you have potential.

That's scary. It's overwhelming. It's daunting.

So few people do it.

And sadly, so I've found, few people even want it.

And that is kind of an important factor, wouldn't you think? Wanting it?

So I'm stuck viewing people in this stupid bubble of infinite potential, when they usually have no interest, what so ever, to work on any of the things I (potentially) admire about them.

Here's an example for you:

Have you ever had a friend that's really amazing at something, say, writing? And all you ever do is talk about that friend as if he's brilliant, and is going to be huge someday? But for some reason that "brilliant, soon to be famous" friend isn't doing anything about it?

Damn that pisses me off.

I've asked just such a person like that, the reason they are not working on their talents, or trying to get their ideas out into the world.

He was spending most of his time sitting around the house playing video games, or out drinking with friends instead of writing, which was depressing to see.

"Hey man, when are you going to finish that book you've been working on?" I asked him.

"Who knows. Someday. Maybe. I don't know," he shrugged.

"You really should, you know," I encouraged. "You're one of the best writers I've read. Honestly. Some of your stuff is really brilliant. You need to get this out there."

"Eh, whatever..."

He didn't care.

He really didn't.

His talent meant nothing to him, because it did not coincide with his interests.

So much talent, so much amazing perspective and gift for saying things in ways I would have never thought of, and yet he didn't really give two shits about it.

Yet another example of someone whose potential will forever remain just that.

Potential.

And it saddens me.

THE DAMN E WORD!

At 28 years old, I'm only starting to see that I am not very good at reading people objectively.

Sure, I can throw out the odd psychological evaluation, or random relationship/life counseling for friends and co-workers (and I do), but I've come to understand how much I cloud my own view of them.

And what, pray tell, could cloud my view?

Well, yes, we talked about potential. But we're talking about something else now.

If you've read a smattering of my previous essays you should be able to yell it out by now.

Got it?

No?

Fine. I'll just hand it to you.

Like so many other things in life, the culprit is the ever-obfuscating Emotion.

Yes emotion.

And what is exactly is going on with emotion?

Well in this particular case, the aspect of emotion that is doing most of the dirty work is a silly little fellow named Desire [Johnson].

It is desire that influences much of what we see, or more appropriately, what we think we see in others.

Which brings us to the other concept of the essay.

THE PROJECTIONIST

No. Not the guy who runs the movies.

Self-projection.

All right, personal example time.

GO!

One of the girls I've always found myself infatuated and, what I would call, "in love with" damn near half of my life (see: "Soul Mates"), has always represented the things I think I want in a female.

I always thought she was uncannily similar to me; her interests, her hobbies, her taste in music, films and books; her goals for their life; her political opinions; hell, even her humor was exactly the same as mine!

Wait, this sounds eerily familiar...

Didn't I just say this at the beginning of the essay?

(You know what that means... cyclical dichotomy time).

So she's everything I want in a person...

... Or is she?

[ENTER DESIRE JOHNSON FROM STAGE RIGHT]

Perfect timing.

Let's connect this back to the emotion of desire.

It is possible, (but hardly probable) that this girl possesses all of the these amazing qualities I saw in her. It would be rare, and the odds are against it, but it is literally possible.

But what is more likely, is that the reason I see these things in her, is because I want to see them.

Did you get that? It's important, so I'll repeat that last line for emphasis.

The reason I see these things in her is because I WANT to see them.

And I do, trust me I do. I really want to see these things in her.

I find her attractive, so naturally I would desire her to be everything I want ideally.

But just because I want to see certain things in her, does that automatically mean she has them?

Of course not.

Unfortunately for me, what I'm really doing here is projecting my own priorities, interests and desires onto her, and choosing to see these things as if they were part of her, instead of being part of me.

And we all do this (really). Sorry (well, not really). It's true (really).

We see what we want to see because we desire it. We project ourselves and our desires onto anyone we remotely like, instantly imbuing them with everything we personally hold dear. And we keep on thinking, "Wow, this person is so much like me!"

Sorry sweetie. It's YOU that's like YOU.

Combine this with the let down of potential and you have a volatile mixture, sure to destroy anyone's hope for happiness in personal relationships.

LAND OF CONFUSION

So here I'm left not knowing what to think about anyone.

Every time I meet someone new and think positively of them, I have to second guess it.

Any time I find some girl attractive and think something positively about her personality I have to second guess that too.

Does she really possess those qualities? Does she only have the potential and not the desire or interest in those qualities? Am I just projecting my own wants and priorities onto her? Is she really as smart as I think she is? Or do I just want her to be?

Wait a minute...

.... Oh shit. What about me? Do my friends and family see me as not living up to my potential, therefore disappointing them all? Are they all projecting their personal goals, wants, and priorities onto me?

Yes, they are.

Is that the only reason anyone tolerates me?

Fuck. How will I ever accurately know anyone?

Well, if they're anything like me (and I have a feeling they have the potential to be), I think we'll get along just fine.

Because that's what I desire.

Related blogs:
Internal And External Priorities
Soul Mates
In Defense Of Selfishness
The Feel Good Fix: An Observation On Wants And Needs
Self-Perception: What A Beautiful Thing!

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

,
buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Tags: philosophy psychology self perception self projection potential emotion desire relationships friendships

Internal And External Priorities

2009-10-13T10:23:00.002-06:00

Sometimes it only takes a word or sentence for me to be sent down the proverbial drainpipe of meandering existential philosophy. Just like my essay, "Gardening With God," in which a simple wall plaque inspired a entire blog about how people personify the concept of god.

I'll change the format of this blog a bit, and give you the theory upfront, instead of gradually through examples, or at the end of the story.

Here it is:

Many, if not most people, tend to prioritize what they have, and who they are with, over who they are, and what they do.

So how did I come to this little silly-sounding tidbit, and what does it really mean?

And the real question: does it even matter?

HOW DO YOU SPEND YOUR FREE TIME?

I was talking with a very cool, laid back neighbor of mine, who I only see from time to time. We lightly chit-chatted about random things and he happily told me he had the evening off of work, unexpectedly, and was thrilled to have some free time, which is quite understandable.

I asked him what he was going to do with his time and he admitted he was not quite sure, but he was trying to get a hold of some friends so they could go out somewhere and get wasted.

"Sure," I said, trying to hold back. "That's one way to spend the time."

"Well, what else am I going to do on a Friday evening?" he questioned.

This is why you don't ask me extremely open-ended questions like this, as I have the tendency to want to play with people.

Trying to make a point and also testing for interesting reactions, I let out a stream of options as a substitute for extreme social drinking:

"Let's see, well, you could start writing a book; you could make a blog about your favorite interests; you could draw, sketch or paint a picture;... um... you could write a song; you could begin learning a new instrument; you could study a subject you've always wanted to know more about; you could write down a list of long-term life goals and break them down into smaller, more accomplishable steps; you could learn a new language; start a humorous web comic...uh..."

I stalled for new ideas to throw into my spontaneous tangent.

"Well, maybe YOU could do that," he replied with a chuckle, acting as if I had just asked him pour cottage cheese into his pants, and run around the neighborhood licking mailboxes.

Yes, I was playing with him, but it was also partially serious. Were those suggestions really that strange?

"Anyone can do those things, assuming you want to," I defended, but he was already making his way back into his house, scrolling through his contact list on his phone.

"Hmmm," I thought out loud. "Maybe my priorities are really out of whack. Those sounded like admirable things to do with one's free time, even on a Friday."

It sure doesn't take much for me to feel like I'm struggling against the flow of the river. I guess everything I do or value is completely odd, stupid, or plain ridiculous.

Right?

GOT ANY PLANS FOR THE WEEKEND?

I've been asked that question periodically and it always makes me pause.

I know what they mean by asking me that question.

"Are you going out anywhere, spending time with someone, or doing something that is generally accepted as a traditional social outlet for enjoyment and/or escapism."

Realistically, the answer is both yes and no.

Yes because I have things to do, and I plan to do them.

No because most people don't seem to think of my plans as "plans".

Why? Most of the things I do, and find extremely important, are generally viewed as internal pursuits: Things I do that only involve me. No friends, no going out, no traditional "fun". Hence, weird.

When I tell people the "plans" I have for any given patch of free time, I often receive looks of confusion, blank stares, or sometimes looks or pity and sympathy.

"Poor, pathetic loser," they seem to say.

And what makes me so odd?

Well, take this example of the things that I would be working on right now in my free time, considering my internally focused priorities.

*I need to continue mixing the last few details in a few songs for my new album
*I need to put together the remaining graphic layouts for the album artwork
*I need to write several pieces of copy for the website and promo materials
*I need to start working on a new blog for KingOfDeprecation
*I need to start working on a new blog for The Envinity Blog
*I need to map out a step by step master release list for the Envinity Blog
*I need to finish the last pieces of content for the new website
*I need to create a new global marketing outline for the release of the new album

etc, etc. The list goes on and on.

Sound like a blast? Probably not, huh? Does that sound extremely silly to you?

This is what I do with my free time. Essentially, I work. And, yes, by myself. But I work on my own projects. Things that matter to me that are each, in their own way, a form of self expression. And by doing so, I feel like I am enhancing the person I am, and the things I've done with my life. Maybe not right away, but eventually.

PROJECTING PRIORITIES

I often have trouble identifying with others, and falsely assume that they see the world in the same way I do (projecting). We all do this to greater or lesser degrees in our own way, though lately my problem has become quite exaggerated.

I tend to think that everyone places high value on self-expression, creativity, art, the pursuit of knowledge, and the quest to understand the self. Boy am I an idiot. Those things are stupid. The few times I get into a conversation with someone, I tend to interpret things through those odd priorities of mine, obscuring the obvious meaning of what they intended to convey.

Facebook has been a wonderful way to re-connect with childhood friends and classmates. During a brief "what have you been up to for over a decade" type conversation with an old friend from my youth, I asked her what she had been doing that day.

"I've been really busy with family stuff, so I have not had much of a chance to get to it, but I've been trying to get some painting done today."

Now, you may have interpreted this in its intended meaning already, but not me. I was quite surprised and excited by this comment.

"Wow, that's pretty cool," I commented, taking new interest in the conversation.
"What are you painting?"

"Well right now I just want to get the kitchen done."

Oh...

THAT kind of painting.

Here I was all excited that this person was also an artist and put high priority on artistic expression and creativity, when all she meant was she was simply painting her house.

And for me, that was a let down. Not that kitchens shouldn't be painted, or that it won't make the place look nicer, I'm sure it will. But I felt let down because I thought that I could talk to someone with some similar priorities, and even viewpoints on life.

Nope. I'm the weird one, yet again. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.

SHORT TERM FIX

You've just had a long, stressful day at work, and you really need to let off some steam and relax. How are you going to spend your evening? If you are like most young people, you probably will feel trapped sitting around your apartment, and feel the need to let loose, to get away from things.

The social consensus leads many of us to decide that what we need is to go out to a bar or club and get completely hammered. It's instant. It's visceral. And it works.

Albeit temporarily.

We trade in progress on any of our long term goals for ourselves, in exchange for a night of carousing and alcohol-fueled reality-avoidance.

But in the grand scheme of things, this is simply an example of how we subconsciously circumvent tackling our big, challenging life issues, and our grand aspirations for ourselves, via social distractions that simply pass time, without helping us use that time productively for our own benefit.

Though I could not see that a few years ago, it seems clear as day to me now. The focus on such short term trivialities as a main priority will only help to ensure that our lives will pass us by without us even knowing it.

Sure, we'll have some funny stories to share, but nothing truly accomplished to show for it.

In essence, we will live our lives in the passenger seat, forever fearful of taking direct control and responsibility of where, how, or when the car may get to a destination.

That being said, there is nothing wrong with getting together with friends for a round of drinks and laughs after a long day. I understand the appeal, honestly I do. For a few years, I was part of a social circle that did nothing but party all week. I was part of...

THE CLUB SCENE

For most of my adult life I had never been much of a drinker, perhaps just having a few beers here and there or a glass of wine from time to time. It wasn't until I suddenly started DJing in a small, dilapidated club that I became introduced to the extreme social partying scene.

All of my new friends were now bartenders, DJs and club staff, all of whom quite enjoy drinking (an understatement). And in the excitement of this new environment, I adopted the philosophy of, "when in Rome...". (Which I was not in).

Over time, I became a regular at the bars and clubs associated with my bartender and club staff employees. On my off nights I was out, like many, many others, till 2am (usually later) drinking and dancing, and I loved it. It felt exciting, and edgy, like I was part of some sort of underground rebellious movement of misunderstood people who wanted to really live life everyday.

Once I started working as door staff at another club, I was taking shots before, during and after my shift, then we'd all head to another bar after hours where we would, get this, drink some more. 6am sometimes. And that was life. Sometimes five days a week. Work at the club, drink, sleep in late, work at the club, drink, sleep in late, night off, drink at another club, drink after hours, sleep in late... you get the picture.

After many months of this routine, even though I did feel partially included in the group of staff folks and their partying antics, I began to become restless and irritated with the lifestyle. This was not just some friends who got together here and there over a few drinks, this was almost every night with drunken after hours shenanigans. It was the lifestyle.

I grew resentful of many of the people I had considered friends, or at least acquaintances, feeling as if we were wasting our lives away; and I had only been part of it for a year or so.

I was sick of feeling that the only way we could all hang out was through copious amounts of alcohol and social debauchery. Once in a while, sure, no problem. Making it your whole life though?

Quite depressing.

But perhaps only for me.

A MANIFESTO... OF SORTS

Since it has been on my mind for some time now, I've had time to break it all down in to two types of focuses and priorities.

The external (what you have, who you are with) and the internal (who you are, what you do).

To me, there is nothing more important in existence than learning to understand who you are (a deceptively simple, yet extremely complex question), and pure, creative self-expression (what you do).

These priorities have governed my life for as long as I can remember (although the journey of understanding myself has been a bit more of a recent development).

Sure, working on creative projects of any kind does not carry the immediate sex appeal of say, going out on the town with your close friends for a night of hijinks and crazy stories to tell; but the long term goals, and maybe this is only me, completely blow the quick fix out of the water.

So I didn't get out all weekend. So what? I spent time working on things that directly relate to who I am, what I want to do and where I want to go with my life. It's not always hip, cool, or marketable, and few people even understand why doing anything like that would be enjoyable or worthwhile.

And still I don't get it. I really don't. Yes, I've been there before, it was fun for a while, but it quickly lost its luster, and I remain confused as to why it does not do the same for more people.

It seems that hardly anyone places emphasis on the big internal questions (who they are, what they do), and only pursues the external (what they have, who they are with). So maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe it's me who's wasting my life away cooped up inside doing my internally-focused creative ventures and not really going out and experiencing life like everyone else around me.

Which brings me back to the essential question. Does this even matter?

Related blogs:
The Depression Panacea
Gardening With God
Artist Integrity And The Dichotomy Of Success
The Inefficacy Of Prayer
The Feel Good Fix. And Observation On Wants And Needs

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Tags: life goals plans drinking partying social creativity long term short term psychology philosophy know thy self

Hernia 2: A Love Story. part 2

2009-10-07T17:55:00.001-06:00

Please read part 1 of Hernia 2. A Love Story before reading on.

Hey! What did I just say? You won't know what the hell is going on unless you read the first part of this story!

Damn. No one reads instructions anymore.

THE RUN AROUND

Now that I had a possibility of getting financial backing to cure my ripped stomach muscles, I again contacted my original surgeon, to see if he could put in some recommendations with other surgeons who would accept my CICP program.

Being the generous guy he was (did I mention he also liked metal? That's pretty cool on its own), he faxed my information to another surgeon he knew, at a hospital that would accept my vagrant faux-insurence.

As per usual in this adventure, I waited a good while, and heard nothing back. Maybe they just forgot to call me, right? A few more days passed, and I finally called the referred surgeon's office directly to see about the silence.

"It looks like you were declined," the secretary told me.

"What was the reason?" I asked.

"Well, it says here that it's not life threatening, so he passed on your case."

Wonderful. Thanks for the concern, guys.

God damn it! Now what?

Well, I suppose I could just try to get an appointment with a specialist at another CICP hospital on my own, yes?

Pehaps. But adding to the dense corn-maze that is the current medical system, I am apparently not allowed to jump right to a specialist. Oh no. I have to see a clinic doctor, THEN I can see a specialist.

Man, hospitals and their hoops!

Okay, fine. Let's do that then. I'll play your games. (Because I have a choice).

I waltzed right into the clinic fully prepared like mustard. After waiting around again just to see a doctor so that they could tell me what I already knew, I eventually got my referral for a specialist.

Okay. Checkmark. Slowly but surely, I was making my way to the goal of surgery.

I played phone tag with the appointment center for a bit, and in the end, got myself a calendar date to see a specialist. Nice. Finally. (I'll wear my nicest Tux).

NOW THAT'S CUSTOMER SERVICE

All was hunky dory for the next few weeks as I anxiously waited, albeit in broken form, for my upcoming appointment.

(My guess is that something negative will happen next, let's see...)

Two days before the scheduled date, I received a message on my cell phone, likely from the appointment center probably calling to remind me of my meeting (yes, I'm sure you believe that that's what it was).

I checked the message, and indeed it was them... but... wait... WHAT?!?... CANCELLED???!!!

What the flying scrotal shit fucks!?

Two days before the appointment I had been waiting almost a month for, I was told via voice mail that they had cancelled it because the surgeons needed some information about the previous surgery.

What, and you couldn't have told me that when I scheduled the appointment?! You had to wait until the last minute to tell me, and not even give me the option of having my surgeon fax you some info?!

DAMN YOUSE!!!

And you're damn right I was pissed.

So I followed instructions like a good little boy, and had my previous surgeon's secretary fax my information to the appointment center (that, in its self, only took 3 to 4 phone calls). Once the fax was finally sent (two weeks later... sigh), I hounded the appointment center every week with messages regarding my cancellation, if they had received the fax, and when I could reschedule.

After even more weeks of only getting voice mails, I got a hold of an actual human being (I guess they just started hiring those), and learned that just as they cancelled the appointment with my specialist ( the one that already took me forever to get), they had changed their policies.

Oh goody! Now what?

By now you should know the drill.

You see, now I had to go see another primary care physician (I already did that, remember?) before I could try to get back in line to see a surgeon.

They just make this a pleasure, don't they?

Well, life got busy again, and I dealt with my quarter-sized opening in my stomach, as I had no other choice ( I like options). In the back of my mind, I kept thinking "I need to schedule yet another doctor appointment," but just never seemed to remember due to all of the other things I had going on.

In fact, if the hernia was not causing me any intense pain, to the point where I could even forget about it for a while, that was a good thing!

Maybe I can just get used to it, and live my life.

Sure, you do that.

But in the meantime, I was about to get a big reminder of my condition.

HOSPITAL HIJINKS

At work, weeks later (see how I easily gloss over huge amounts of time with those two words?), I was suddenly overcome by a feeling enormous pressure and pain in my stomach. The pressure was so overwhelming it was almost equivalent to the nerve-crushing pain I felt during my life-threatening incarcerated hernia I endured in fall '08.

This was most likely a not-so-good thing.

Again I recalled the words of warning, "If you feel anything like what you felt before, come right into the ER."

Try as I might to grin and bear it, to stay at work and just "power through it" like a macho über-mensch, I no longer could function well enough to do any vague semblance of a job, and finally had to make the big call.

"I need to go to the emergency room," I said, feeling guilty for leaving work when they needed my help.

I think I may have some guilt complexes, now that I think of it.

Another time. On to the emergency room.

As per the usual routine, I undressed and put on the ever fashionable hosipital gown and clutched my stomach in pain.

"At least they will be able to see what's going on, and pehaps, even take me in now and get it over with," I reassured myself between pulses of pain.

As I waited (I do a lot of that), the nurses and doctors did the tradtional stuff: blood tests, urine tests, condescending feigned interest in my situation, etc.

Once the tests came back, I was ready for them to give me the bad new about my stomach exploding, or the new hernia becoming incarcerated like the last one, but instead I was told that I was free to go home, and they would simply issue me a prescription for pain medicine.

Yes, that's it.

Seriously? Nothing wrong with me? Impossible! What about all of this sudden pain?!

Still in extreme discomfort, I hobbled out defeated, no answers, no imporvements, no appointments.

What the hell was wrong? This does not feel like "fine" to me.

LIGHT AT THE END OF THE CHUNNEL

The next day my stomach was back to normal, with no reasons or clues as to why.

I continued about on my daily routine, working on completing some personal projects, as well as less-interesting day-job obligations.

Then, out-of-the-blue about a month later, I got a voice message on my cell phone from a very business-looking number.

Listening to the message, I was absolutely shocked to learn that the appointment center actually remembered me, and had considerately scheduled me an appointment with a primary care physician within a week. (Isn't this the same appointment center that gave me the run around for months and would not return my calls?)

What the...

Where did this come from?

You mean I might actually be able to get this taken care of after all?

At this point, I'll believe it when it actually manifests.

HOW DOES MONDAY SOUND?

After jumping through the medical croquet hoops and seeing the primary care physician they had scheduled me for (I'll spare you the details of the observations I had on the people in the waiting room), I was told to re-call the appointment center the next week, and the doctor himself would put in a recommendation for me.

Nice!

Well...

In theory.

The next week came about (as they do), I called the number and got an appointment with a specialist the very next day.

Yes, the next day.

Were things suddenly working in my favor? (Don't answer that).

While waiting to see the specialist, I talked with a very nice intern who asked me some questions about my situation.

After giving her my long dramatic story, she looked a bit surprised and said, "why didn't you get in here sooner?"

I shook my head and smiled. "That's what I've been trying to do the whole time".

She smiled, acknowledging my struggle.

"Wow, you really have been given the run around, haven't you?"

Once the real surgeon did a quick examination of my broken stomach wall, he said, "well, I do my surgeries on mondays, so I think I could do the 28th. Does that work?"

The 28th? Really? That was only a few weeks from then. Damn that's... actually pretty fast.

I have to say, to my own surprise and disbelief, it looked like this was really going to be taken care of for good.

Honestly, I really felt that I would be living with this broken stomach wall my whole life. Dramatic as that may sound, I've said it before, the hopeless empty feeling that had been with me since discovering this well-funded abdominal sequel felt profoundly true.

And if I've learned anything in the course of studying myself and others, it's that our emotions are more powerful than any grounded logic or reason.

THE AB BONE'S CONNECTED TO THE... EVERYTHING

It's interesting how much we take our bodies for granted. As I slowly recover from this crazy adventure of the gut, I have no choice but to see how much my stomach muscles affect every little movement I do. Why? Because it hurts like a bitch.

The simplest task, like sitting up, standing, walking or laying down becomes a wince-inducing reminder of the body I rarely acknowledge.

And worse still, at least at this point of my healing, I can't even laugh without going into extreme pain. Something I do a decent amount of anyway, (yes, I like to laugh at things), I have to mentally condition myself against doing. So much for watching any movies I might find humorous.

Don't even get me started on coughing. Worst. Pain. Ever.

THE IMPACT

As I discussed in the last essay, The Depression Panacea, I closely link myself and my personal happiniess with what I do, more specifically, what I create.

Not being able to work, or get creative projects done makes me extremely restless and slightly (or exaggeratedly) depressed.

This very thing happened last time when I spent almost a week in the hospital for the emergency hernia. I recall getting very depressed, locked in my old people prison, having no access to my studio or the other creative tools I use daily. I felt worthless, all while healing my body after a near-death experience. Realistically, I should have been thankful that I was alive due to the advances in medical technology, and I was... for an hour or so. Then I began feeling worthless and guilty for not getting anything accomplished.

Which relates to where I am right now.

I'm restless, a bit depressed and even feeling slightly guilty due to my lack of accomplishements during my recovery.

Though my recorvery has taken longer than I had planned (how do you plan for physical healing anyway?), I have trouble allowing myself the emotional space to allot for the continual pushing back of my getting-things-accomplished. It make no difference to me whether I'm just wasting time playing a video game, or recovering from stomach surgery. If I'm not getting anything done, I feel guilty and beat myself up for it.

THE VIEW FROM HERE

Until I went through the ordeal of the last year, I never gave two shits about health care. And why would I? If it doesn't directly affect me, how can I feel a personal connection to it?

Well, personal connection solved!

Dealing with the emotional, physical and mental trials of the last year have placed new emphasis on my personal health and well being. Not to mention the access I can and cannot get to be treated, or just be seen by a health care provider.

Oddly, my adventures coincide nicely with the national debate on just such topic, though I have no interest in turning this into a political screaming match.

All I really want to know is am I actually done with this shit, once and for all?

Or will I find myself on a looping conveyor belt of stomach surgeries?

As with the first one, I'm hoping that this is finally behind me and I can move on, with my stomach now filled with high tech lasers and cybernetics.

But if you follow the movie industry, production companies love trilogies.

Related blogs:
Hernia 2: A Love Story part 1
Too Early For Suicide?
2008: The Worst Year Of My Life
Touching Death In The Crotch

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Tags: health healthcare hospital medical system reform surgery recovery sarcasm

Hernia 2: A Love Story. part 1

2009-10-05T15:22:00.001-06:00

I woke up in a groggy haze in a hospital recovery room. As the nurse tinkered with whatever was in my IV, she asked me to breathe deeply.

OW! Fuck that hurts!

I gritted my teeth at the intense pain coming from my stomach.

This was the part I had been dreading for so long, the recovery. It was as if I'd done this before. Wait, I have done this before. It's deja vu.

Why the hell am I going through this again?

Good question.

As my eyes continually closed and opened in my anesthetic fog, the answer came to me when the surgeon came to discuss the procedure.

Apparently, my stomach resembled swiss cheese, with one large hole, and a smattering of other small ones all over.

I had eleven hernias.

Man, that's metal. My hernias go to eleven!

Join me, won't you, through a year-long journey fraught will emotion, desperation, run arounds, setbacks and near-death experiences.

This is Hernia 2: A Love Story.

TOUCHING DEATH IN THE CROTCH

Say, this hernia thing sounds familiar doesn't it?

If you've read back into my growing essay catalog, you may have come across an essay called Touching Death In The Crotch, which has a similar premise. If you want more detail on that situation, I recommend you peruse that, however I'll also sum it up quickly for you right here.

In August of 2008, I found myself in the emergency room with the worst stomach pains I'd ever experienced.

It turns out my pain-inducing tummy-buddy was an incarcerated abdominal hernia. (Shit, and I was all prepared to be a mother). Think of your intestines getting kinked like a hose, then caught in your stomach wall. Interested?

The doctors told me that if I would have waited any longer, my intestines would have ruptured, and I would most likely have gone to your uncle's farm up north with Mr. Kitty and grandma.

You know, "fucking dead".

After almost a week of recovery in the hospital re-training my body to walk, and defecate, I enjoyed a pill-popping couch-based pain and depression party at my dad's house. (How nice of him to throw a party in my honor).

After a month or so, I was back to my normal, self-loathing, sardonic, near-sucicial self.

It was an incredibly dramatic and life-changing event that I could now put behind me for good.

Right?

Well, mirroring the modern movie business, the first hernia did so well that it demanded a sequel.

THE DISCOVERY

With my near-death experience behind me (snicker), I got back to the normal grind (sans bump).

I found a new job at a restaurant, which was rather timely, as I was about to go broke.

A manly badass scar running down my lower abdominal wall was a constant reminder of my Great Stomach Rebellion. (Or an extremely un-manly cesarean scar).

It served as a relic of a terrible historical disaster, keeping my self-image and emotions in check. Thanks Hernia™!!

Jump to Superbowl Sunday in February '09. (Do that).

I was working at my restaurant for a special football party. (No, no. American football). Over the last several days I had developed a gnarly cold, and a deep chest cough. Ignoring the cheering from the party by engrossing myself in a book about the history of American secularism (I like to participate, you know), my cough became extremely severe, feeling like a butter knife scraping against my lungs.

The next morning as I stepped out of the shower (yep, totally naked), I just happened to glance at my stomach as I dried myself with an old towel.

What the hell was that?

Was that a slight bulge under my scar?

Was it just, maybe, perhaps, the way the light was hitting me?

Oh shit, that's really a bulge.

Oh my god. Not again. Not again.

Seriously?

I just fucking did this a few months ago!

In an emotional panic I called my dad up and told him the bad news.

You know what I needed at this time in my life, especially after a recent ended relationship, a near-death surgery escapade, almost going broke, and then my cat dying?

Another huge setback.

IT'S HOPELESS

The next few weeks were probably my lowest low, damn near ever (which says a lot considering 2008). I had just been through an absolutely traumatic situation not more than a few months ago, which I believed to be completely taken care of, and now it was back.

Emotionally, it felt as if this was going to be my life path, what I was going to expect for the rest of my days, which is a bit of an exaggeration of the situation, but still felt overpoweringly true. (Stupid irrational emotions!).

I felt helpless, and I wanted to give up.

In everything I did, I could feel it. It expanded when I ate, leaving me fearful of an internal rupture or explosion. Digestion was ever more present as I could feel my insides working in a way that was strange and uncomfortable. Sleep brought no respite from the hernia either, as from time to time I would succumb to massive, painful pressures in my abdomen, waking me up out of a pleasant dream, and sending me into hysterics, questioning whether I should be speeding down to the emergency room again, or just wait it out.

The doctor's words repeated in my head on autopilot, "If you feel anything like what you felt before, come right down to the ER, don't wait. Watch for swelling, discoloration..." basically I was becoming a paranoid hypochondriac.

Every little sound, or feeling from my gut scared the shit out me. Almost dying from the last one, I was easily frightened for the second round.

I felt broken in almost every way. I was afraid to lift anything, drink alcohol or coffee, or even socialize (which I don't do much of as it is, so I guess that is kind of a moot point).

To drive the impact home, I would not be able to move to another position at my day job, due to lifting requirements, nor could I find a new job for the same reasons.

Basically I was trapped within myself, limited and confined to constant worry and fear. I was afraid to really live.

"Why keep on living if I'm just going to be continually beset by shit time and time again without a chance to really build my life back up again?" I thought.

This would bring me to my almost-end-point, when I began to (seriously this time) contemplate suicide.

THE REAL PROBLEM

On my last hernia, the emergency one, I received a ridiculously lucky deal when the hospital waved the entirety of my near $60,000 bill due to my sub-poverty financial status, leaving me with only a few thousand dollars owed. This was an extremely fortunate situation, for once. (Obviously).

I spoke to the surgeon who performed my last operation, and asked him if he would be able to help me again, and though he said he would be glad to do it, he gave me some disappointing news.

This new hernia was not an emergency, or immediately life threatening, therefore I would not be able to work with the financial department at the hospital to negotiate such a steep slash to the price. It was an elective surgery, therefore, no aid.

He told me if I were to get some insurance he would do it in a heartbeat, but alas, I live the pathetic life of a college student, sans school.

So here I was still reeling from the impact of the previous year, I was hit again, and had no way to financially take care of it.

Was I going to be stuck with this forever?

I can't afford health insurance, at any price, and wouldn't I be denied anyway due to this being a pre-existing condition? Stupid fucking insurance companies!

What about my dad? Couldn't he help?

If my situation would have happened a few years ago, perhaps he could have. Sadly for both of us, he was hit quite hard in the economic recession that year, and lost all of the money that could have gone to making me unbroken. (What's his money for, if not for me?)

Fuck! How the hell am I going to fix myself?

This absolutely hopeless. Might as well kill myself. (And I did. The end).

OKAY, SO I'M INDIGENT

For a good while, I avoided researching anything about my hernia, or looking for solutions to fix my problem. The overwhelming helplessness and depression caused by the appearance of this second physical problem prevented me from bringing myself to do anything about it. I couldn't even face it.

Productive? No.

Human? I suppose so.

My mother, feeling like she was unable to do anything for me during my emergency situation, was determined to help me this time. After some phone calls to her sister, she informed me of a few programs that may exist in Colorado for broke losers like me. (She didn't actually say broke loser, though that would have made this section more humorous).

After a long, confusing search through user-unfriendly government websites and databases, cursing to the heavens about how anyone looking for medical help could ever even find it, I finally stumbled upon what I was looking for:

*Cue angelic choir*

The Colorado Indigent Care Program, or CICP.

Basically it acts as health insurance for homeless people or those who make shit money (hey, that's me!). Honestly people, this is the kind of health insurance we should all have. No annual fee, and you will never pay more than 10% of your total income in a year.

How awesome is that?! (Make a pie chart).

I thought to myself, "Why would anyone want to make a decent income and pay for shitty health insurance, when they can be broke, and get on this awesome program?"

(Oh yeah, people like to buy stuff. Never mind).

After several annoying tries to go down in person and sign up for the program (I had to come back again at 7am and wait in line just to have an appointment) I was finally processed and officially able to do something about this emotionally, and physically crippling hernia.

I felt lucky to finally be on this super cheap program, something which made it financially possible to take care of this second Abdomination (heh heh, wooo! Good one me!).

Now I should go see a specialist, and get my surgery right?

YEAH!

Nope.

To be continued in part 2...

Related blogs:
Too Early For Suicide?
2008: The Worst Year Of My Life
Touching Death In The Crotch

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Tags: health health care hospital surgery recovery sarcasm

Surgery, New Subscribers And Thanks

2009-09-27T12:07:00.005-06:00

GOING IN FOR SURGERY

Tomorrow (Monday the 28th), I'll be going in for hernia surgery.

I'm looking forward to having pain every time I have to sit up and go to the bathroom, or the excruciating process of simply trying to lay down.

Yes, I've gone through this before already. Last year. So I figured, "why not make it a yearly routine?" I like to keep myself humble, you know. (And this blog is proof of how well that is working.....).

The point being, chil-dee-ren, is that, depending on the amount of meds I will be injected with, or the pain I will be "enjoying", I may not get to writing a new essay for next week.

I will have my laptop with me, and though I'll be moaning and groaning like a whiny baby, I do aim to get some more essays done. However, I promise nothing.

Once I'm feeling better, I'll have a story to share on the hernia thing (and yes, it is actually more interesting than an essay on hernias sounds. Really).

NEW SUBSCRIBERS

In the last few days, I noticed a small influx of new subscribers to the RSS and email feeds of King Of Deprecation!

Again, it's a small amount, but enough to take notice of.

I can only assume that part of it may come from linking from my newly-created Envinity blog, though in my often ego-pandering imagination, it's due to complete strangers who just happened upon this blog and thought to themselves, "wow, this sure is insightful, witty, honest and humorous! I've learned valuable things about myself and people in general that I previously took for granted! Thanks Niko!"

Alas, no one says that.

I'm probably just seen as a self-important asshole, as opposed to a purveyor of fascinating life lessons and social observations.

Sigh.

I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who has recently added my pathetic feed to your weekly reading list, and even more so, thank you to those who have stayed subscribed the whole time, and actually read the pseudo-intellectual, sarcastic and self-mocking garbage you get from me!

Thank you very much!

I'll be back soon, but in a much more feeble, elderly way.

In the meantime, here are some entertaining older essays to read while I'm in a drug coma:
Self-Perception: What A Beautiful Thing!
Adventures In Guerilla Psychotherapy
Colorado Women's Expo. A Celebration Of Stereotypes!
Ted Nugent: Anti-American Hypocrite
Leave Your Honesty At The Door
Crazy Drummer Guy, And Vegan UnGuitarist

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

The Depression Panacea

2009-09-25T16:44:00.001-06:00

At the beginning of 2009, I was at the lowest spot I've ever been. The year of 2008 had destroyed me from nearly every front imaginable, and 2009 had welcomed me with the passing of my cat of fifteen years.

Needless to say I was a tad unhappy.

I blamed this feeling on the specific events of the previous year: the ending of a relationship; my body almost killing me, literally; almost going completely broke; and nothing worthwhile to show for any of it.

But the more I pondered my own mire of sorrow and desperation, I began to recall that these feelings did not start with the obvious events of the year prior.

No. In fact, even during the good moments of my last relationship, I can still remember feeling as if something was not right. Sure the relationship had its share of red flags, but at the time it was still fun and exciting.

In reality I had been on a long downward slope of unhappiness for the last several years.

So what was going on with me?

Why was I still unhappy during moments of supposed happiness?

How far back did my depression go, and what caused it?

More importantly, what actually makes me happy?

LOOKING TO THE PAST

As a young, carefree child, I spent hours drawing landscapes with colored pencils, creating elaborate death traps for skateboarding stick figures, and recording multi-hour ramblings on cassette tapes that was, in my mind, an entertaining variety radio show.

I can recall building things with Legos while laying on the floor telling myself stories, or creating an epic, and usually hyper-violent movie scenario for my action figures to play out, complete with in-depth character connections and full background histories.

I rarely played sports, and the few times I joined the neighbor kids in anything requiring some ounce of athletic skill, I reaped the chastising-based rewards of my lifelong disinterest in sports.

This only helped to turn me continually inward, relying more and more on my own imagination as the primary means of my entertainment and satisfaction.

Music was also a big part of my life at the time, and I spent many moments of my free time dreaming of becoming a famous rapper (sorry, that's what I liked at the time). I wrote down lyrics, wrote trite melodies and chord patterns (C'mon, I was a kid), and created logos and album covers for myself, which continued for several years, even as my musical tastes drifted into pop, and then rock.

Music was always a place I wanted to be, but there were so many other creative things I did at the time that there was no need to focus on just one.

"So, Niko. That's really neat that you did a bunch of stupid things as a child, but what does that have to do with your depression?"

Thanks for the sarcasm friend.

What I'm trying to illustrate is that during this time of my life, I was constantly inspired, much more positive, and had a fairly optimistic outlook on life and my future.

...And then puberty hit.

MOMMY, WOW! I'M A BIG KID NOW

My transition into adulthood (which is a constant journey, not a destination) has been a rocky and challenging path (as I imagine it is for so many of us).

Now that I was a hormone-throbbing young man, my emotions took me in stranger, and much more dramatic directions at the drop of a hat. And boy did people drop a lot of hats (clumsy fools).

In essence, the influx of new chemicals in my body plus time and experience, had changed me into a new person, far removed from the optimism of my child-like self of days gone by. I was now a brooding, overly-introspective teenager whose emotions governed and clouded his entire perspective on existence.

So, is this the source of my depression? Simple Biology?

Yes and no.

In the sense that I was now capable (as if it was intentional) of feeling super-human mood-swings, yes, it started there. But was it the source of the hollow, lackluster sadness that grew on me like a fungus in recent years? No. But it sure provides a nice canvas to paint on.

Sure I still spent many an evening curled up in the fetal position on my bed, most likely on the phone with a girl who would never love me, while somber, atmospheric music drifted out my speakers, melding perfectly with the bleak glow of my black light and lava lamp.

(Oh you poor high school kid, your life is so hard. Here, have my pretend sympathy).

But on the upside I also had plenty of creative projects to keep me busy. I was in about every possible music program in high school from marching band, to jazz band, to symphonic band (which I really loved). I also took several art classes, in the end becoming quite interested in 3D computer art (also very fun). To round it all out I took an acting class (eh...), I played in a metal band with some friends, and I continued to hone my own songwriting skills by working on long, self-involved keyboard compositions.

I led quite a busy life at the time, looking back.

Despite being melodramatic and emotional about every stupid little thing, I really had a lot going on in my life to be excited and proud of.

THE DESCENT BEGINS

The juxtaposition of my early post-high school life and the mile-a-minute marathon that was my high school routine was not immediately apparent to me.

At first I had a job working in the music department of the long-defunct Media Play (which was quite fitting). I would go clubbing twice a week ritualistically, and began playing with a little band called Dunwich Horror, a tongue-in-cheek black and death metal cover band, which featured the brothers Thomas and Daniel Drinnen (which later became Urizen).

I kept myself quite content (as much as I can be) and busy with projects, yet slowly over time, my personal outlets for self expression would begin to drop off the radar, as I became a singularly-focused person.

Around the same time of the above shenanigans, I had begun my early recording experimentation with digital music, taking songs I had been working on since I was 14 and 15 years old, and bringing them into the present with amazingly sort-of-okay results!

Omitting several important steps for you readers, this project eventually became my personal band Envinity (then called Envy).

As time progressed, I cut off the remaining avenues of creativity leaving just my personal music as my single outlet for my imagination, emotion and experiences.

Over the next several years I was lucky enough to release two albums, Sweet Painful Reality in 2002, and Empyreal Progeny in 2004. I hadn't picked up a pencil, brush or drawing program in years, (although I did started getting into Photoshop and graphics for my albums), and my toys were long since put away. Everything I did was now almost 100% focused on Envy, including the way I structured my life.

Envy (now Envinity), was all I had, and had now come to represent me as a whole.

Without really knowing it, there was no longer a separation between my art, and the person I was.

YOU ARE WHAT YOU DO

Though I'd known this for quite some time, I recently came face to face with the notion that I have trouble defining myself outside of what I do.

If I were asked to describe what makes me ME, I'd begin telling you things that I've done, created, or thought of. None of these being who I am as a human being.

Given that most of my life was spent being creative or imaginative (even if it wasn't always very good), I had built up a connection between who I am, and what I do. There was no difference. I had become the things I create. "Who is Niko?" Well, let me show you this new thing I did.

Going back to the last few depressing years in question, what was I producing at the time? What was I working on?

Well, there's the problem.

For someone who is apparently defined by what I do, I was not being very well defined.

I had the beginnings of my eventual 3rd album (coming soon), which I was very excited about, but it was far, far from completion. To further distance myself from creatively-driven actualization, it seemed at the time that the project would never see the light of day.

"Okay, so this new thing you were working on was a long way off, but weren't you still playing live shows with your band? Isn't that something tangible and creative?"

Well friend, the live version of Envinity had sadly disintegrated into a near-comical facsimile of the grand vision I had started out with, pushing me further down the path to personal depression and frustration.

If indeed Envinity was all I had, and its gains and outputs represented my gains and outputs, I had nothing. The whole thing was turning into something I hated, and therefore so was I. It had nothing new to show for itself, vicariously, neither did I.

I did not put it into focus at the time, but I recall wondering why I could feel so worthless and unhappy when I had other things in my life that should have made up for that. I had no idea why I felt so down.

I had no idea, at this time, that my creativity connects directly to my identity, and also my emotions.

THE DEPRESSION PANACEA

At the start of 2009, finally realizing this seemingly obvious connection between my moments of satisfaction and purpose in life, and my amount of personal creative output, I made a pledge. And no, not one of those flimsy new year's resolutions that no one ever remembers or follows through on.

I vowed to myself, that I would make 2009 the most creatively saturated year I'd ever experienced.

With newly ignited interest and cautious optimism, I quickly jotted down a list of every project I'd ever fantasized about doing, designing, or being a part of at any point in my lifetime. From the most grandiose, to the absolutely stupid and silly.

As I stared at the ever growing list of potential ideas, I began to see how much I had limited myself in the last several years. Here I was with the mindset that I was ONLY a musician, and yet my list told me otherwise. So I guess I'm not just a musician anymore eh? Then what am I? (Besides an occasional ass?).

As we head into the fall of '09, I'm glad to say that my personal life-experiment has showed some wonderful signs of positivity.

I'm on my way to finally finishing the project I started almost five years ago for Envinity (which is good in and of itself), but to add to that, I've also found a new interest in writing about philosophy and psychology from my sarcastic, self-deprecating perspective, which I've been fairly consistent on since April.

Not to mention my awesome T-shirt store, which is something I've talked about doing for years.

There are also a handful of other side projects which I will begin very soon, and I'm very excited about finally getting to them (as many of them were things I've wanted to do since I was a teenager, or even a small child).

Have I done everything off of my 'to do' list this year?

No.

But you know what?

It's okay.

I'm already doing more for me than I ever have, and I'm now the busiest I've been since my long gone high school days.

It's stressful, it's overwhelming, and I love it.

Honestly, I love it.

Sure, I'm not sunshine and rainbows 24/7, but that's not me regardless. However, I am more satisfied with myself, more energetic, more positive (let me stress the word MORE, meaning a matter of degree only) than at any point in my life that I can recall.

If I am a person who is truly defined by what I do, then I've embraced that understanding and have given myself ample creative outlets, both short term and long term, in order to exist through. And it is only through putting my all into something I create that I truly feel alive.

I don't know if my realizations will work for anyone else, but I can tell you this:

It feels great to be alive again.

Related blogs:
I Resent Your Happiness
Too Early For Suicide?
72 Degrees In The Head, All The Time
2008: The Worst Year In My Life

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Tags: philosophy psychology life creative creativity goals self deprecating music art happiness happy depression cure

Passion Or Practicality?

2009-09-16T09:36:00.000-06:00

There is a girl at my restaurant who I've found a particular interest in analyzing, and I'm sure you can guess why.

I'm attracted to her. (Well, so far)

She's only a few years younger than I, quite pretty, a decently witty head on her shoulders, spunky, fun to be around, in a relationship...

... Wait, what was that last part?

Shit. She's in a relationship.

... And has a new born.

Ehhhhhh... This is not sounding as good anymore.

So much for that "opportunity" eh? Such is my luck.

Besides, I'm sure she's plenty happy in her current relationship.

... or is she?

What do you say we find out together? (We should hold hands)

CONTRAST CREATES EMOTION

I was admittedly a bit disappointed that one of the few girls I find some spark of interest in, is off the market. Not to mention the kid. (I should not have mentioned that).

So, I took particular interest the day her boyfriend came into the restaurant with their baby.

I watched from afar from behind my laptop, as I pretended to be working on one of my brilliant and insightful blogs for... some site that no one reads.

(No, I'm not a stalker. I'm just obsessive. Isn't there a difference? Please?)

Right away, I was a bit surprised at the boyfriend's jockiness. Not the type of guy I had thought she would be dating. In his defense, not having actually talked with him, he did not exactly look like a super-douche, just, well, as I said. A bit on the jocktacular side. He could be cool. Who knows. (I don't want to know).

As soon as she saw the pair enter the door, she lit up and smiled.

(Damn it. Look how happy she is. I hate other people's happiness)

She immediately kissed and coddled the child, then looked at her boyfriend with a very socially polite smile and simply said, "hey".

No hug, no kiss, just "hey".

I raised an eyebrow.

The boyfriend sat down at an empty booth and placed the baby carriage on top of the table, so that they could admire and lavish affection on the child.

As I kept watching, from my distant, secret lair of social-ineptitude, my eyes couldn't help noticing her odd body language.

The entire time, she stood at the opposite end of the booth, never sitting down with him, not even for a moment (the restaurant was dead by the way), throwing him only matter-of-fact facial expressions, and slight nods while talking.

"Maybe that's just how she is with people", I thought.

Then she turned to the baby with a bright, beaming smile full of love and exuberance.

"Hmmm..." I pondered.

After his meal, she once again hugged and kissed the baby with an affectionate radiance. On his way out, she addressed her boyfriend with a simple, "bye".

Not in a sarcastic way, nor in an "I'm angry at you" way, just, well, bland.

Lifeless.

I pretended to go back to my blog, but instead I opened up a new file and wrote down what I just saw. This suddenly got interesting.

LESS IS MORE

Noticing that interesting display, and feeling particularly saucy, I decided to probe her about her relationship.

So, when we were talking one afternoon at work, I purposely put her on the spot and asked her point blank and calmly, "So, would you say that you have a passionless relationship?"

She flashed through about twenty quick expressions before flustering through multiple half-finished, defensive responses.

"What? What do you... no... I mean, I don't know what you mean... why would you ask that? I don't understand..." she said, with lots of head shaking and facial expression changes.

I reiterated my question, as I had the feeling she knew exactly what I was asking, but was trying to avoid it.

There is something slyly enjoyable about making people uncomfortable with bold questions.

"Is there a lot of passion is your relationship?" I asked again, very calmly with a slight smile.

"Well, I mean.... we love each other...." she said with a confused, yet also suspicious look.

"Thats not what I asked" I said with a smirk.

"What do you mean? I don't... what are you asking?"

She knew exactly what I was asking.

"I don't understand why you're asking me this," she said, as she conveniently walked away to check on one of her tables.

I smiled to myself. So that answers that question.

This was getting to be quite fun. For me, at least.

THE GRAND CANYON

The last straw in my observing her relationship from afar like a creepy stalker, came when her boyfriend, child and boyfriend's family showed up for lunch.

She waited on the table, and everything seemed just fine.

After lunch, the folks and baby took off (I assume the baby drove separately), leaving the boyfriend to hang out at the restaurant.

I just happened to be standing nearby when I caught a quick exchange between the two, something about the boyfriend apologizing for something. I know not what happened, or whether it was a big deal, like calling her "snatch" during the meal (why don't women like that?), or perhaps his parents just forgot to tip.

I never did find out.

Whatever it was, she seemed relatively okay about it, which is good (for them, not as much for me), then he went off to the bar for a beer, and to watch a game, as she continued cleaning up her tables.

And this is where my "hmmm..." becomes, "HMMMM....".

She grabbed some food and sat down in a booth.

No, not with her boyfriend, but with some fellow female servers.

"Maybe he's already gone, that would makes sense," I rationalized.

I did a quick scan of the restaurant, and saw her boyfriend sitting by himself in the lounge up front, watching tv.

HMMMM....

Now everyone has a different way they like to interact, and when you live together, I'm sure the "fun" of seeing the other person is a bit diminished (or augmented or suspended. Strike that, it's a C#dim7). But when she's off the clock, and the person she claims to be in a romantic relationship with is there to see her (why else would he be at that restaurant eh?), why would she stay far away from him?

Later on, she did eventually join him at the bar, but by this time he had struck up a converstaion with a gentlemen about whatever awesome game was on tv (sarcasm), and she sat next to him, not saying a word, silently starring off into space, with the occasional glance toward her boyfriend's converstaion.

Good times. Monday, Tuesday happy days.

READING BETWEEN THE SPACES

It's a series of bread crumbs like these that add up to a loaf. (Not the pinchable kind).

So why is she with him?

From what I've seen, I think I can safely say that they don't have a lot of passion. Since the baby is involved, I'm thinking the boyfriend represents safety, dependability, familiarity and comfort, which is fine if that is what you want.

And maybe that's what she wants.

Yet part of me keeps thinking, "Maybe she just doesn't know what is out there," and by "out there" I am referring to me.

But why would she want to be with someone like me? Do I represent any of those traits? Not really, or at least not in the same ways. I'm guessing she sees me as too weird, strange, silly, self-important, professorial, elitist or something to that effect to be considered relationship material.

Even if she did find some sort of oddly-placed interest in someone as opinionated and self-critical as myself, would I want the responsibility of caring for a child? I'm sure I could do it, but would I want it?

And why am I even making this an issue? Chance for opportunity: zero.

PASSION OR PRACTICALITY?

What this all comes down to is a simple question. What matters to you? What is important in a relationship? True, you don't always have to have only one or the other, but most people will offer MORE of one than the other.

So what do you want?

It's easier to stay in a slightly boring, but easy-going relationship, then it is to look for a new one, or sadly, to sustain the high-energy, super-passionate ones (why do those have to fizzle out so quickly?).

And maybe placing passion as a "must have" on my list will keep me forever searching, and never finding. I guess I'll just have to deal with that.

Now I just need to decide if I want to show her this blog or not. It could bring up some interesting reactions (which is completely worth it), or possibly make things incredibly awkward at work from here on out (not as much).

What do you think?

Ah, fuck it, I'll go for the risk. That's the only choice with any passion.

Related blogs:
Soul Mates
A Spoonful Of Relationships Will Cure What Ails Ya!
You Should Meet My Friend Niko
(Mis)Perceptions Of Love
The Lust Complex

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Tags: love relationships philosophy.psychology stalker happy passion passionate practical comfort stability

New DeprecationWear T-Shirt: Indifference

2009-09-12T13:58:00.000-06:00

Deary me, where is my head? With all the shenanigans and goings-on I forgot to let you know about my brand new DeprecationWear T-Shirt:

Indifference by deprecation

As you can see from the images above, you need this shirt. Your complete lack of emotion for anyone and anything can now be known from across the room, requiring even less effort from you to convey your apathy!

Enjoy! (well, you're indifferent, so, feel what would be closest to 'enjoyment' for you)

Related blogs:
New DeprecationWear T-Shirt: Prayer

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Gardening With God

2009-09-09T17:29:00.002-06:00

There is a needlework plaque hanging on a guest bedroom wall at my dad's house. This plaque, put up by my dad's wife, is a simple nicety about one of her favorite hobbies.

However, upon seeing it, I was instantly put through a range of emotions and philosophical tangents.

The plaque reads: "One is closest to God in the garden."

I'm sure many people would read this warm, Hallmark-wall-medallion and give it a simple little smile, then move on. My fate would not be so easy.

WHERE ARE THOSE OLD BOTANY BOOKS?

It was late, and I should have been heading into a nice cushy sleep on my vacation, but because I over-think everything (literally everything, it sucks sometimes), instead I had to frantically jot down all of my thoughts and digressions, all due to a glance at a simple hobby-promoting wall-hanging.

What I began thinking was, 'what is the real intention of this plaque?' and 'what implied interpretations of its message are likely?' (Yes those are actual things that keep me up at night. Maybe I should get into a relationship or something).

Is it saying that working with plants gives one a feeling of spirituality?

Or is it trying to tell me that the one true path to being with God (the true God nonetheless), is through horticultural cultivation?

Is it? Shit! Why didn't anyone tell me sooner?!

But if gardening is indeed the way to be closest to God, what about church? It seems pretty pointless with the news of this revolutionary theological enlightenment on a wall plaque, yes?

And then I thought about who created the wall hanging. Isn't that plaque likely sewn by someone who already is a garden enthusiast? I would say, probably yes. I can't imagine a model-train enthusiast reluctantly sewing this plaque with a remorseful tear in his eye, contemplating all the time he wasted on his, enjoyable, yet non-godly hobby.

Which got me thinking that if this person already had a passion for working with plants, and also a belief in a supernatural creator being, it would be fairly obvious that they would feel, subjectively, that they were closer to that intangible feeling of oneness with the universe when they were focused on something they were extremely passionate about.

Does that mean that I can't be as close to this God because I like to compose music? I saw no plaque for that. To take things at face value (it's funnier), we can see that one person's creative passion is more favored by this supreme creator than another's. And according to the glaring absence on the wall, my personal passions are not among them.

Now I'll never achieve enlightenment!!

Any yet, were I a religious man, I would probably argue that no else could understand how it feels, in that wonderfully dream-like moment when I compose a new musical idea or song. The feelings are, in my experience, eqivalent to nothing. (No, not "nothingness". I mean I can not find anything to compare them to, like Sinead O'Connor). The process is really amazing, and cathartic. Honestly, like nothing else I've been a part of.

Therefore, I'll argue that God can only be achieved through musical composition. And I'm right.

Case closed.

Case reopened...

So if my dad's wife feels a strong spiritual connection while gardening, and I could feel the equivalent of that, through making music, and my dad could get that via writing a novel, what's the connection? As I sat in the bed, my hand cramping up from writing all of my mental vomit onto the page, I moved this concept from specific, to global, which led me to the unifying theme of the the wall plaque:

The personification of God.

That is some insight into how my mind works, when a silly grandma's-house needlework wall-hanging brings me into the concept of how people psychologically project themselves into anthropomorphizing God.

Dude, you wanna party with me sometime? (I sure can live it up... mentally.)

FRACTIONS OF FACTIONS

Throughout history, gods of all kinds (including "The God". You know, the ONE?) have justified, sanctioned and even ordered some of the most cruel, shameful, and over all anti-human events on record. Usually leading the charge were angry, obsessive, or power-hungry men who were magically spared the skeptical questioning or absolute horror and shock of society, because their cause was backed by God with a hearty thumbs up. Hence good. (Yea genocide!!)

In modern times, one quick look at all of the different denominations branching from, or connected to Christianity is absolutely mind-boggling. Some factions demand that you adhere to archaic rituals and live in a manner exacting of ancient peoples, and others are extremely wishy-washy and liberal, saying that "as long as you at least believe in God, you can pretty much do what you want," (Within reason of course... wait, did I just say reason?).

From an outsider's perspective, I often wonder why there are so many slightly different takes on what should be a fairly to-the-point philosophy. You are all basing this off of the same book right? (Well, except for the Mormons). So why all the disagreement?

People all over the world have radically different ideas of what and who God is (or if God is single or has extreme mutilple personality disorder). Does it not strike you odd that each god or gods that come from a particular part of the world, or group of people, seem to represent that group's cultural ideas and views on the world? It's almost as if it was the people that created the gods, not the other way around. (Of course there is no way that could be true, so calm down and enjoy that slice of pie).

Although, if there really was a god, (just one we'll say), you'd think that his message would have been a bit more clear, and above all, universal. Not transalted through the social, man-made ideologies and situations of that time and culture.

Ha ha, no. Just kidding. That is foolish. Of course the only way to know what God REALLY means is through loose interpretations and personal biases.

EVERYTHING IN MODERATION

I've had some experience dealing with what I call moderate or abstract Christians. These individuals vaguely believe in the "Christian God", Jesus, a soul, afterlife etc, but usually only the touchy-feely portions. (You know, the "nice" parts?). Many times these mushy-pseudo-religious people do not actually follow the Bible (they may have only read it when they were young), and don't really go to church (or perhaps only on the rare holiday). And yet, they seem to have a decent amount of "insight" regarding spirituality.

Personally, I've heard them make multiple pronouncements about Who and What God is without any real basis.

"I think that God would have no problem with this or that," or,

"if God is love, which I think he is, then he will love me no matter what I do."

Even when I bring up specific, negative examples of The God Of The Bible's opinions and actions, or scriptually-based contradictions they will usually be unfazed, responding with, "Well, I don't believe in all that stuff" Hmmm.....

If you don't "believe in all that stuff", where are you getting your ideas on spirituality from? You appear to believe in things that sound very Christian, yet you do not subscribe to, or even know about the things that Christianity is based on.

How nice for you.

And there is that dead giveaway in your language, buddy-boy, about the origins of your personal understanding.

"Think".

Everything they say is usually done through the ownership-phrase "I think". Not "I know", or "I've read". "I think", implying personal interpretation. Which is what we humans do best.

Again, how did you come to this information? Need some change? Here are two cents: you wanted to feel good about whatever it is you do and say, so, obviously, God should feel the same way. Why? Cause that makes you feel good. The two of you are luckily on the same page. How convenient.

LET'S GRAB A BITE TO EAT

Let's say you and I were meeting up at a restaurant for a bite to eat (pretty cut and dried so far). You arrive early, grab a table and start looking over the menu. When the server comes by, do you think it would be a tad presumptuous to order for me, without knowing what I wanted? Sure you might know me a bit, and think, "Niko likes gyros, so I'll order him that", or "Niko likes some of the things I like, and I'm going to get baklava, so Niko will want baklava too," but what if I wanted a Greek salad today? You don't know, because I never actually told you.

Seriously. Don't order yet.

So let's pretend there is a God (and he wants a salad. I just know). To presume you know the mind of a being that has shown you no direct evidence of particular opinions or desires, is to me, arrogant.

We all have an innate desire to feel a connection with the vast, distant universe. To feel like we know the will of something greater than us, yet something that still involves us. However, our minds can only ever know our own minds. So it's those people that claim to be a mouthpiece and "speak for God" that makes me most worried. (By the way, if God is all powerful and has something to say, he could just say it himself).

So when people make pronouncements about the mind and will of God, what are they really saying? I've found that it is the people with the strongest personal agenda to advance that most often claim to have God directly on their side.

BIASED OBJECTIVITY

As you all know by now, I dislike a lot of things. And not liking a lot of things, as I do (or don't), I very feel strongly about the plethora of things I don't like, and in most cases, have a long list of itemised and officially-notarized reasons contributing to my opinions on something. Because my views are so "documented", so to speak, it feels as if these views should be completely objective, as if everyone should have these same opinions, after all, they are so obvious, aren't they? (Yes).

If my views feel universal (and they do), then there must be something to them (there must), and it can feel as if the conscious universe itself shares in my hard-edged elitist ideas (it does). If it feels that way, it must be that way (I already said that), and POOF!... it is that way.

WOW! IT IS!!! I WAS TOTALLY CORRECT!!!

It's funny (ha ha ha ha! See?) how God seems to confirm the things that we already want to be confirmed, and disavow the things we want to have disavowed. Again, quite convenient. And with so many different beliefs and views in the world, this higher force must have a few billion different, equally strong, equally conflicting opinions. Seems plausible.

For instance:

Do you hate gays, liberals, democrats, or fictional children's books with a flaming (pun) passion? I bet your God hates them too.

Do you feel that the highest virtue in life is to love all people, all the time, everywhere? I bet your God loves everything too.

Think that you're a good person? I have a feeling your God has created a personalized super-awesome-happy-place for you... after you're dead.

Think that Terry is a awful person? Yep, your God feels that way too, and probably created an all-bad-all-the-time place just for Terry... after he's dead.

Like anchovies? Because your God loves 'em!

Hate anchovies? God finds them an abomination!

Do you enjoy gardening?

Well, in that case, I have a house warming gift for you.

Related blogs:
The Inefficacy Of Prayer
All Truth Is Relative... And Equally Not
The Feel Good Fix
Self-Perception: What A Beautiful Thing!

Enjoy reading this blog? Please socially bookmark this page, or post it on your Facebook, and most of all comment with your personal stories, observations, or violent objections.

Visit the all new DeprecationWear online store! Sarcastic, self-deprecating and elitist merchandise. Click HERE to see my wares!

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Tags: god religion spirituality personal personify projection sarcasm philosophy psychology christian believe belief

Soul Mates

2009-08-31T13:03:00.000-06:00

In my youth, I used to lay in bed and imagine epic movie-like scenarios in which I would suddenly encounter The One. The stunning, beautiful, intellectual, creative and perfect vision of a women who would make everything in my life meaningful and amazing.

For years I kept hanging on to that fleeting, seductive notion, only to find myself in an ocean of disappointment and heartache.

But the idea lives on in many of us to this day.

What causes us to become so fixated on one person? To feel for someone so intensely that even the most beautiful person imaginable could walk by, and you would not notice.

What better way to illustrate the way people feel regarding this topic than to share my own personal story, by getting uncomfortably naked, vulnerable and open about one particular girl from my history.

Are you ready?

Let the awkwardness begin.

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER

I first met January while registering for 9th grade. She was absolutely beautiful and seemed to radiate an intangible aura of mind perfume, to which my olfactories were perfectly tuned for. I did not know it yet, but from meeting her that first day, I was already in love. (I know. "Love" at age 14. How profound).

During a few classes together, I finally got up the courage to begin chatting with her, found out we had some things in common, and soon I had her number and was talking with her almost every night. (A bit much you might say. Correct. At this point I had not learned the adage, "absence makes the heart grow fonder.").

My own interpersonal experience was barely even nil (if that), and my immaturity only matched (at least I was coordinated). Through a series of stupid (or maybe just pathetic and inexperienced) words and actions (which I'll probably make a separate blog about, so as to dwell on my embarrassing moments forever), I made inadvertently sure that there would be no chance for romance between us.

Why?

In essence, I was young, naive, and had no concept of the word "subtle". I'll just leave it there for now.

Time passed, and she began dating a guy who she would eventually spend almost a decade with. They seemed happy, and were joined at the hip. (Strangely, the very spot I wanted to place reservations for). Needless to say, I was pretty disgruntled, confused, hurt and depressed.

There she goes, the most beautiful, amazing, intriguing girl I'd ever known, and... there goes the guy she's dating. I had a secret almost-hatred for him. I say "almost" because I really did not hate him. I hated myself for being a fucking pathetic unlovable, socially-awful relationship-miscreant.

My last ditch effort was to write a song for her (typical huh?). However, I never got to know what she thought of it, because just as she was about to tell me in class, I chose to be an idiot (yet again) and ignore her out of jealousy and spite (yeah, that will make her like you! Good one Niko. You're a genius).

What a dumbass. I want to fucking punch myself in the nuts.

A NEW OPPORTUNITY?

After high school, I had a run-in with her at a company party for a local recoding studio. She was apparently single (one of the numerous times she broke up with, then later got back together with her high school boyfriend). For some reason, she displayed strange verbal, and even body language signs that she was possibly a little bit interested in me.

What? Why? I don't understand.

I was intrigued and confused by her behavior, and I did manage to grab her cell phone number just in case.

As it turns out, she was going to college in Boulder at the time, and coincidentally, so was my high school chum-dude-pal-bro Brian. Well, what a perfect opportunity to go down to Boulder and see her right? I'll grab Brian, and that way it will feel super casual. Man I'm smart!

I picked up Brian and found the house she was staying at. Unfortunately the conversations this time were hard fought and awkward.

During the conversation I found out that she was indeed dating someone else, which crushed my little pointless heart, and put it in an air-tight tin can with its own juice/blood.

I left disappointed.

Nothing more became of it.

Until...

WHAT ARE THE ODDS?

A few years later I got an email for my band promoting some local online radio station that wanted me (the band) to send or upload music to their site.

I read the email with only vague interest, as there was probably a fee involved, but then happened to glance at what name was listed as the reply contact.

Yes.

It was her.

There could be no question, as she has a very memorable, and somewhat unique full name, which I doubt I'll see anywhere else. (unless I write it on my computer screen, in which case I'll see it quite frequently).

I replied to the business email asking if it was indeed her, and what do you know.

What a strange coincidence don't you think? What are the odds that a random online radio company would send my band an email, and it would re-connect me to my high school love. (Me being in love with her, remember. Not us being sweethearts).

There must me something to that, right? Or so we'd all like to feel.

THE ALMOST DATE

Once I had begun emailing her, we decided to get together (probably more like me asking her). She seemed interested again, somehow, so I looked forward to my first opportunity to have a legitimate date with her (an opportunity I did not fuck up ahead of time by being an immature socially-inept romantic moron).

Overall the date was fun. We went out on the town seeing some live music and checking a few of her favorite bars. Just being with her felt wonderful. Most of the time I'd imagine what it would be like to look at her and know she was mine.

*sigh*

I'm a loser.

So...

At the end of the night, I was going to drop her off at her apartment, and maybe talk some more there, but before I can suggest that, she asks me to drop her off at her old high school boyfriend's apartment.

Huh?

I looked at her strangely, not understanding the situation.

But being the good little boy, I do, though thoroughly confused, as I thought we were on a date, and she was single. (recap. No, and no).

I can remember dropping her off, with a sad look of "you lied to me" all over my face. She looked at me with a hint of compassion and realization, and quietly said, "I'm sorry."

Boy am I a delusional dumbass. So much for that positive evening, Niko.

For better or worse, after our hanging out, she got a job offer and moved to New York. She called me a bit during the move, then we both got busy and conact again fell away.

But...

COMING THIS CLOSE

Years later, after breaking up with my last girlfriend, I received a comment on Myspace from her saying happy birthday, (yes it actually was. Birthday I mean, not happy) and a few more pleasantries. Nothing over the top, but still it was nice to hear from her.

We began sending long involved emails to each other both detailing our recent breakups and the lessons we were learning about ourselves and people. Strangely similar. Uh oh, you know what that means...

Soul mate.

Soon we were talking on the phone, at first once a week, then slowly more frequently. We would have wonderful three hour conversations about relationships in general, our ex's, and our personal views and growth from it all.

I did my best not to repeat the behavior of the immature child from high school and tried to act more casual and nonchalant. And it seemed to be working.

Maybe too well.

As happens all too often for me, I found myself drifting into advice counselor mode, on all manners of subjects for her. Don't get me wrong, I love teaching and sharing my knowledge with others if I feel like I'm benefiting them, but the danger of this is that this kind of social interaction immediately puts me into the dreaded "good friend" category.

Fuck. I always do that to myself.

Finally realizing that I was already far into the "advice buddy" realm, I tried to help the situation by sending her a nostalgic memento she could keep on her desk at work, reminding her of me. It was actually pretty clever, if you ask me, referencing something between only us from high school, and tying it into the present. I was happy with it. And according the voicemail she left me after receiving it, so was she.

Very much so it seemed.

It seemed indeed.

She began calling me more spontaneously, which of course, made me feel quite nice in my tummy, and our conversations were still very enjoyable. But also very friendly. And only friendly. No flirty comments, or little hints of attraction anywhere.

Then I found out that she had just recently met someone (like really recently) and she was curious to see where it would go.

Heart.

Shattered.

For.

Billionth.

Time.

I did not want to hear that, but I tried to stay calm and cool. Yet I could not keep it up. Talking to her was now too painful for me. I had to make a decision.

So I wrote her an email laying it all out.

I explained that I'd felt something very strong for her since I met her, and have no desire to be just the good friend who only counsels her on her new relationships. It was unfair to me and how I felt. I explained to her that I could not keep up the contact anymore, due to my emotions.

If she ever felt like giving something a try between the two of us, by all means. But until then, I felt it was best for me not to not talk to her anymore.

So I ended it.

It took everything I had.

MORE THEN COINCIDENCE

I had someone tell me, upon hearing this whole back story, that they thought there was something to our "connection". He told me that he "felt" that there was "something there" and, because our encounters become closer and closer to materializing in something concrete, he figured that in a few years our paths would cross again. But this time for real.

Boy that sure sounds nice doesn't it? And why would you not want to believe something that makes you feel like there is something wiser than you at work underneath it all? Something that could magically connect you with your ideal person in life. That you are destined for love.

I want to believe it with all my heart (the parts of my heart that are not jaded, bitter, broken and canned by Del Monte). But I can't. And I won't.

It's just not true folks. Believing something because it sounds great does not make something real. And above all, it makes no sense if you try to base it in logical reality. And that, as you may have gathered, is the way I want to live my life. As close to what reality actually is as possible. I'll save imagination and fantasy for my art, where it belongs.

THE REALITY OF SOUL MATES

So is January my soul mate?

Nope.

To this day I feel something very strong for her, this much is true. But I have no idea why, still, after years have passed, if I see her photo in an old yearbook or online, the feelings return. It makes no sense. And it pisses me off. I don't want to be in love with her anymore. It's a useless feeling that will never come to fruition.

As much as I wanted to believe it in my younger years, the concept of a soul mate holds little water.

We base all of this on our intangible and random emotions, equating what we feel to be representative of what is real.

Take small towns for example. People can spend their whole lives in one small town, fall in love, marry and have a family, only with the selection of people in that small town. What are odds? If there is only one true person for you, than shouldn't they be dispersed randomly over the whole world? Most people would never find theirs, as he (or she) would be living in Australia, and she (or he) would be in Japan, India, or Iceland.

Think of how many times you've formed a strong bond, romance or connection with someone in your life. Is each of those people a soul mate? Just one? How could you tell?

By and large, the seductive yet nearsighted concept of a soul mate implies far too much new age spirituality for my tastes (any is too much for me). It implies fate, destiny, divine intervention and probably even an afterlife where you may have even known each other (a beforelife?). Again, makes no logical sense.

As much as we would want to believe that there is that one true amazing love out there for each of us, in reality there are likely thousands of people we could be compatible with all over the world, just based on percentages. And to me, those odds are far better for personality compatibility, than the almost futile, yet romantic prospect of searching six billion people for The One.

Related blogs:
A Spoonful Of Relationships Will Cure What Ails Ya!
Run-in With The Beautiful People
The Lust Complex

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Tags: love relationships soul soul mates fate destiny meant to be philosophy psychology