world as told by

I am alone on an island;

The sea being the universe,

my brain being the sand.

My neighbor is close by

and though I cannot swim,

I can still look over and say hello.

A Very Large Elephant

I have been carrying around an especially large elephant for some time now. Here, I will not address that elephant, I will only address my thoughts on not addressing the elephant, so do not get your hopes up for juicy goss.

I have been carrying an elephant so big that there isn’t a single person in my life who is not in the room with me. It’s not that I can’t address it, it’s that addressing it is so emotionally exhausting that I need a nap after just thinking about talking about it.

I generally find it useful to immediately address the elephant in most cases, most cases being when it is not my elephant. For a light example: when I forget a person’s name I will be blunt and just say ‘yeah, I’m bad at names and I know I should remember but I don’t and I’m sorry.’
This method saves me from future struggle and embarrassment by taking the hit right off the bat.

So my skills with addressing the elephant are usually pretty high, but this one is my toughest competitor yet. I just can’t seem to find any reason to address it to anybody who does’t ask me first, maybe because it sounds desperate. It’s not like the elephant doesn’t haunt me fifty times a day and literally every night in my dreams already, so I shouldn’t be afraid to take the step to talk to people about it if need be. I am aware though that people get bored after a while of hearing the same things over and over again, so I just try to be as little nuisance as possible to them.

Maybe, though, the truth is that the elephant that comes with me in every room I walk into is just so large that the only way to get rid of it is to own it right away B-Rabbit-8 Mile-final rap battle-style.

Upon reflection of my entire life so far, I see that I tend to push shame or embarrassment deep down, lest some other soul be able to read mine and spot vulnerability. Nobody can ever know that I feel anything, which is a dumb way to live and it’s what got me into this mess in the first place.

If I wait long enough, will the problem go away on its own and I will never have to address it to anybody, or will my day of red-faced reckoning come when I have explicitly stated my story to everyone who cares? I have things to say and I would tell anyone wanting to listen, but my deep fear of being annoying to people holds me back.

It honestly gets boring to have to tell everyone my business anyway, similar to how it feels fake to do the small talk rounds of “how’s school?” “what are your plans?” with family and such. I get that they want to stay updated but to repeat the same script over and over again is tedious and unhelpful to the process. Same with the elephant in my room.

Music is a Weird Thing

Music is weird because even babies know that it is great. It is in our blood to sing and to dance. Music is used by all people in the world, too. Dinosaurs didn’t have it though, which is sad but makes it more special. What I would like to know is when did the first guy start making rhythm? It had to start with one guy and spread from there, as music methods are cultural. Did Neanderthal and Homo Habilis bang a drum? If a generation of humans went by with absolutely no music and all records and memory of music were lost, how long would it take for someone to figure out again that music exists? These are things I cannot know. I do know however, that primitive human cultures have music that is mainly rhythm; drums and shakers. Then after a while they might develop some sort of wind instrument like a wooden flute. Next in cultural advancement comes along stringed instruments; lute, zither, banjo, piano. As the culture advances from tribal to civilized so does the instrumentation of the people as well as any fine art, and the access to and privilege of using these instruments opens up. Individual humans work the same way. Infants can follow along to music, toddlers can make gross motor movements to bang a drum, and as they develop their ability to play finer and finer instruments comes too. Not too often would an adventurer discover an indigenous tribe with anything stringed. These were European and Asian inventions almost exclusively. Probably Homo Sapien’s tendency for war brought together music. War chants will fire any listener up and give rise to some ancient fighting chemicals that run with fire throughout the body. On the other hand, music might come from times of peace, as soothing music calms the mind and brings focus to the self and community. 

The problem I am seeing is that not enough people are exposed to music; it is not a large part of American culture. Yes, we have frequently changing eras of popular music like dixie, jazz, rock n’ roll, and pop, so in that sense music is still just as much a part of a culture than ever before. While more unique genres thrive, the culture is more of a listening than a producing one. I can’t say if it is worse, but I think that children are not exposed to enough music creation, which goes hand-in-hand with consumer culture. We are spoon fed music, rather than playing it. This seems like a non-problem at first glance, but the problem lies in that the person making music has the influence. They lead our minds in the morning on the way to work, and all day long. When so many people listen to 90% the same music, we all think the culture is what is said in that music. The writers are the ones who drive culture, just like the big media companies decide what content and what news the mass of people listen to. The false belief is that the music producers and the media are a reflection of the culture, but the truth is that the culture reflects their ideas based on what the media exposes them to. Popular music is good undeniably, which of course is fine. It was made to be that way. It is probably a good thing that we all know the same 100 songs word for word, because it brings together the people. So listening to other people’s music is very important, yes. But us Americans do not make a whole lot compared to the amount we listen to, as per usual. It is not hard to make music, folks. You just need to stomp your foot and slap your knee. I find that most people in my life have no clue how to find a beat and keep time, let alone sing a tune. Children need to be indoctrinated at a young age and kept with it. Children are really only exposed to making music in a few cases. Singing at church is one, and the other is from music class at their elementary school for an hour per week.  I will argue that in 3rd grade music is far more important than any academic subject. It is relaxing, it is fine motor building, and it is community strengthening. Music is an outlet for all emotions, which is something kids take a long time to figure out. Keep them pent up all day in a classroom learning math they don’t need, keeping quiet with their hands folded nicely, when even a 6 hour recess would do them far better than any classroom teacher could. One of the only practical skills a little kid can learn that will help them in the long run is to play music. Instead they get graded on how well they play with others and learn how to form a straight line and how to be quiet which they would figure out on their own regardless. It does no good. Music is the key to producing functioning, cooperating citizens in a tightly knit community. Us older degenerates might not be savable, but it is never too late to start pumping out children that can cope with their own feelings in a productive manner.  

Sometimes I Twitch Out

I have no clue if this is normal for everybody or if it is unique to me, but sometimes, maybe up to five times a week, I will completely twitch out for like 3 seconds. It only happens when I am alone, and what happens is I feel some shiver deep down and I have to shake it out of my body like a demon, and then it leaves my body through a loud vocal sound of some sort. Sometimes this feeling happens when I am around others and I can suppress it into just a big shiver. Maybe there is something the matter with me, but maybe not. Whenever I do this and make some random sound, I am grateful nobody was around to see the episode, because it is a normal occurrence for me, but an onlooker might have some questions to which I have no answers. IDK people! contact me if this happens, I think you can comment on these things.

Skipping is Fun as Hell

but if I do it in public people will think I’m a loon.

Seriously, it is the most fun method of locomotion available to humans. Walking is easy but slow, running is fast but hard. Skipping is easy and fast. It really is a no brainer for me to skip all the time, but I don’t want to be that guy that skips. Sometimes I wish I was mentally ill so I would have a reason to do things like that without being questioned. Why can’t we all do exactly what we want all the time if it doesn’t hurt anybody else? In my dreams I skip a lot, but bigger. I reach enormous heights and come down to the ground with great suspension to spring me back up even higher; but I have to walk everywhere in real life. 

I fantasize about this alternate reality in which everybody in the city runs and walking is outlawed in all cities. Picture: You walk out the front door of your building in the morning and are blinded by the sunlight, but a cool rush sweeps across your body as your eyes quickly adjust. It is the gust of people running by on their way to work. You watch the oncoming foot traffic until you see an opening and you merge in, accelerating  0-8 in 2 seconds. Wind blowing by your face, heart pumping fast; you are a wild animal. 

In this nature documentary on Africa I’ve seen a few times, this tribe in the Kalahari are the last people on earth to hunt by chasing their prey on foot. The hunters go out and find a group of kudu (large antelope thing) and single out the one with the biggest horns: he will tire the fastest carrying the most weight. They separate the victim from the group and one hunter begins a chase that lasts eight hours. One man runs down this kudu for Eight Hours until the animal gets so tired that it lies down and admits defeat, and the man is able to walk right to it and spear the beast point-blank. This is such powerful footage that is truly moving, to look into that animal’s eyes when it knows it will die. It fought such a worthy battle but could not win against man’s long distance run and sweat abilities. 

What’s the deal with shoes, while we’re at it? they are pretty pointless it seems, unless its in the city where there are actual substances of concern on the ground. Shoes should not be put on babies or children until it gets cold out. Shoes should be outlawed in the summer, so that the feet can get strong, and we can raise tough children. Winter shoes are obviously excusable and recommended. Why do we think the guys that don’t wear shoes are weird? they are just doing what their feet were made to do. I also don’t understand the discrimination against eating with fingers either; they are basically better sporks. If I am want for an eating utensil, I just use my fingers like a rational person. To heck with civilized, I am a human ape and I am king of the jungle. The few times in my life I have gone barefoot in public I’ve received comments of the ‘you are making the floor gross’ variety. I say to you, ‘what do you care? your feet are protected by shoes!’ Think people. My feet are in far more danger than yours, and I have clearly weighed the risks already, evidenced by the fact that I chose to wear bare feet. To skip in bare feet? perhaps not.

Come to think of it, even the guy that ran down the kudu was wearing shoes.

Potatoes are Seeds

I am waking up to the world. I struggle to know if those around me think about things the way I do. NO not about potatoes being seeds, that was just a lucky curse that happened into my thoughts. What I am talking about is day-to-day reality. If I am a simulation, so be it, but I still will enjoy life while I have it. If this is a freak accident of nature I will still enjoy it. If nothing goes my way I will still enjoy it. If the rapture comes I will not repent, out of stubbornness. If I die tomorrow it will have been a waste, but if I am immortal I think I’ll get bored. If given the opportunity to blow up a far off planet and see it happen, I would. If I could make world peace, I probably wouldn’t because that would be boring and overpopulation would kill my grandkids. If I could fly I wouldn’t because then I would be a bird and not a human. If I could travel through time, I would be a human on Earth in the Milky Way galaxy named Gary who does blogs, who measures said time in planetary spin/revolutions around the sun. If I was an alien, there would be life on other planets. If I was Christopher Columbus, I’d have a holiday in my name. If I was the richest person in the world, I’d be Jeff Bezos. What I see is that I can’t change the world, I can only adapt to it. I cannot control anything except myself and honestly thats a relief. How the heck easy is that? We have almost total voluntary control over ourselves. That is a nice feeling to have. 

A string of thoughts

It is love for one another that makes us lonely.
To remember something forgotten is to never have forgotten at all.
Connected to nature and to the people is what I long to be.
If what I long for is to sit beneath that tree,
then that is where I will be.
If he wants to see it
why can’t he? Why can’t He?

Let me not forget where I am now,
for if I lie here long enough,
I will become a part of it all.
The ants don’t care about me,
they know their business and will find their way.
The inchworm that crawls about my sleeve just seems lost,
for he knows not that I am otherworldly,
and that leaves do not shoot from these twigs I call arms.
Perhaps he is wise to something..
something like if I am here now, and not actively rocking his world, I am just as much a daily nothingness to him as he is to me.
These bugs are depraved, yet I need them.

Beauty is all around me, but if I stop long enough to admire every fallen autumn leaf, I would become no smarter than the leaf itself.

Autumn is here

T’is the season. Its actually been here since early September. It came very abruptly. One day it was summer, the next it was fall. I find it funny that nobody talks about it though. They love to talk about the day-to-day weather, but I never hear one remark about the seasons changing. I think people like to focus on the negative too much, too. The only people that bring up the weather are the ones that complain about the cold or complain about the heat, though there are certainly those that say “what lovely weather we’re having!” I don’t understand the complaint because at least we aren’t on Mars where its awful there. At least we aren’t in Florida where its gators and hurricanes. At least we don’t have wild fires or tornados or tropical storms or earthquakes. It is quite lovely here really. The changing of the seasons makes me appreciate each one for what it is. It forces me to take advantage of the summer before it gets too cold to do the things that can only be done during summertime. Perhaps not everybody thinks in the negative way I think they might, though. I like to appreciate my surrounding environment, for if I cannot appreciate where I am, how can I begin to appreciate anything else in my life. My circumstances put me on my path, just as yours do, and I must work with them as they come. I must adapt myself to the cold or the heat or I will be nowhere. Say I were to stop all advances in the winter.. This would put me behind come spring and I will have lost time off my life ultimately. Why lose time when I can suffer a little bit in the cold and accomplish what it is I want to accomplish. What is it I want to accomplish you ask? nothing in particular, but I want that window to remain open at all times (not literally its too cold out). Seasonal depression is weird too. Stop thinking that everything is going to be great all the time. Lower your standards and maybe you will smile for once. Things are great if you want them to be only. Very Subjective. The snow is cool, sunburns are cool, the mushy brown grass in March is cool, and the dead leaves blowing across the road in October that you think for a second might be a frog or chipmunk are cool. Its all good stuff. Where do the bugs go when it snows anyway? Do they lay eggs underground and die? Do they fly south? Sometimes in the woods when it snows there are these tiny black flies that chill out in the snow. I’d like to know more about those guys.