Moving hands now

Now, now, no need to fuss anymore, see? I'm typing here. My hands are moving fast, and the words are flowing on the page. That's all that matters, isn't it? Here I've been spending my days lying back and taking it easy. That too, after hustling and rushing for what feels like way too long. Every day, getting up frantically, underslept and chronically unfit. Making my way to those dead walls with dead people, rushing to a red light.

"No more!" I said. So I quit, and now I'm supposed to be working from home. But fuck it, I thought, might as well take it easy for a while. True breaks are hard to come by in adult life, unless carved out through blood and bone. 

I've just been smoking up and taking it easy. Binge-watching, eating, sleeping, and fucking (my fist lol). But now that I'm forced to go sober again, my head's all fucked up. See, I know I'm an addict. I know I have issues, I've always struggled with substance abuse, but I'm sick of this shit man.

All this hectic pressure to achieve things... Where does it come from? Having dealt with addiction for decades, I've learned that the most crucial question is the root cause of the pain that motivates it. You can spend lifetimes putting out fires in haystacks, or you can cover them up or some shit, keep em out from the open air.

What I need is a system. I know that well; I've known that for a long time now, but God damn if it's ever helped me. I mean, I get it man, the fun of the game is in the choice, you get to make your own rules and shit, play it how you see fit. I suppose I feel torn between the need to exist and the desire to live. Bothered by this incessant feeling of never being good enough. Afraid of failing and hurting no matter what I do, terrified of regret. 

On the other hand, one's more likely to regret inaction, rather than any particular failure. That's another thing I can't stand about writing, it always gets me overclocked, thoughts bursting out and neurons lighting up faster than my hands can keep up, and typing is so much faster than writing by hand, too! It's like, I can't help but overthink a little bit, and I'm afraid that overintectualization and shit would ruin the value of anything I make, before I make anything.

I guess my point is that moving hands and making progress is easy enough. There are literally a ton of things to do, fucking take your pick and go ape shit to your heart's content. The question is: does it really matter to anyone? Does anyone really care? I think hard, cold, shit like that is what keeps us up at night, and rightfully so. See, it's easy to look at a drug addict or a suicide bomber and think humans are complete idiots. Such dangerous conclusions come naturally.

It's a lot harder to look at yourself in the mirror, think about the world, and have some faith in the greater forces that allow us to breathe in the first place. I'm not being esoteric here, do the math on it (not that I know math, this is me taking mathematicians at their word). The universe's beginning in a totally incomprehensible miracle called the Big Bang. The earth forming from colliding rocks and shit (I dunno natural history lol). Some fucking heat and chemicals in an underwater duct breeding the first life forms. 

I mean, all that shit might be completely random, but if that's true, it's hands-down a bona fide miracle, if I've ever seen one. I just consider myself to be a continuation of that tarnation. Hence, I don't think that our collective self-doubt is misguided; I think it still serves an important protective role. If you procrastinate something because it seems useless, you probably have a good reason for it. I don't know, I'm really rambling here today, I suppose. 

My point here is that we beat ourselves up for listeng to other people's opinions and questioning our own shit, but isn't it good to be humble and keep an open mind? Of course, it depends on what exactly we're talking about, too. For one person, doubts might be warranted, for another, they might be unreasonable. What matters is doing your due diligence and making your peace, so you can keep looking right ahead as you march, hike, stroll, or glide your way through life. 

If you've never done anything, it might be good to stop and ask. "What the hell am I doing?" If the question is enough to stop you in your tracks, you probably shouldn't have been doing that thing anyway. The trouble comes when you end up stumped over the question. Maybe you don't have an answer to something, is the thing still worth doing in the dark? That's all that really matters, and that's all that I should focus on as well.

Why did I quit my job multiple times in my life and turn everything topsy-turvy? It's because at the end of the day, I'm here in the crucible of creativity, trying. Now I'm smart enough to know what writing these blogs ain't work, and what real work looks like. It's about taking a single idea, polishing it, honing it, and presenting it to an audience of real people. Even though that's what I believe, I also have some real doubts.

Like, who reads anymore? Is there really any value in writing? In truth, the greatest thinkers of humanity were serious writers because writing is thinking. Excellent writing cannot exist without solid thinking. It uplifts the reader, the writer, and the bystander alike. It's easy to forget that. It's normal to get caught up in what's in front of you and forget why you started. When you're climbing down a precarious flight of stairs, it always feels uneasy, no matter how safe, because you might slip and break your neck at any time.

Similarly, it's easy to forget the value of your work when you're doing it, forgetting the destination for the slippery way. But the only way to get where you're going, to be a better thinker, to communicate more clearly, to understand nuances, and make better decisions, is to make your way there. Just because you can slip at any time, doesn't mean you're not making progress. You just feel stuck, because the path looks just as slippery as it did on the top floor. 

In reality, you might be halfway there, having crossed out the many floors you were never headed to, and getting better at finding your way. The journey is propped up to be better than the destination, but one is part of the other. Without the end goal, you're just lost, and without the journey, what did you even experience? Craved something, found it, lost its value in the process, and moved on. A vicious, but far too common, modern cycle of infatuation. 

It can be yoga, Goa, drugs, or gooning. People, puppies, pleasure, or service. We discover an idea, fall in love with it, start exploring it in real life, only to find endless disappointment. Because no love movie would show the hellish torture of being with the wrong person, and no army commercial will discuss PTSD. Reality is always disappointing. Want to be an activist? Get ready to be judged harshly. An artist? Broke. An athlete? Dumb. Of course, there are smart athletes, rich artists, you could probably find a reasonably beloved activist, although I doubt it somehow lol.

Yet the stereotypes exist for good reasons: 8 out of 10 times, they tend to be correct. Stereotypes are often stigmatized because they're, eh.... the opposite of a self-fulfilling prophecy. "Women can't drive!? I'll show them!" said millions of women 10+ years ago. Hardly a fair assumption nowadays, is it? Well, depends on where you are and who you're talking about. Probably still true in Afghanistan or the slums of Mumbai, but not in the UAE or next door to the slums of Mumbai. 

The point is that literally everything is fucked up and full of shit. The question then becomes: Is anything worth it? If not, you're saying that your life isn't worth living, which is completely fair; many people feel like that often. Or, you might be thinking that life is inherently worth living, and one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. That's why many people end up becoming slaves to their fate, drifting from one thing to the next like a piece of wood in the river. 

Harsh words from someone who thinks absolute determinism is undeniable, meaning that everyone is like driftwood in the vast, incomprehensible, powerful currents of the world ocean. What I mean to say is, I think, that the more things they leave up to chance, the more they gamble on. Not that there's anything wrong with gambling, all of life is a huge gamble. It's about gambling better, losing less, and winning more!

Now, isn't that what we all want? It's so damn often that I hear some weak-ass shit like, "Life had other plans for me" or "Man plans and God laugh." Of course, I'm a privileged mother fucker, too, I'll give you that. It's easy for a lucky, educated, healthy mother fucker to say something ignorant, like, "It ain't no thang, y'all, just grit yer teeth and it's all fucking dandy!" That's another thing I struggle with about the book I wanted to write, and why I'm far more compelled to write fictional stories for visual mediums: No one argues with fiction or takes it seriously, but it has the maximum impact on our culture.

Still, I feel like I was on to something with that modern cycle shit, I'll tell you that. People think a phone is gonna save them. Or a job, project, relationship, or app. Maybe it's a culture like weed, art, or gooning. Hell, folks even have a mission, like be an author and change the world (looking at you, chump). Yet, none of it comes for free, and all of it will absolutely destroy you eventually. I mean, even since you're born, your body has been slowly oxygenating and glycating. 

Sugars break down while cells deteriorate. We're all literally cooked. Work out and it'll kill you. Eat right, and that'll kill you too. The problem here is false prophets and false claims. If a game came with a tag, telling you about the microtransactions, ads, and cookie-cutter BS, you wouldn't be that bothered when you discover its dark, murky depths yourself. Yet, it's the drama that makes things interesting. Telling everyone to always tell the truth is like a nun telling everyone to chastise themselves. Well, let's just say it ain't for everyone. 

People want drama, they want to have fun, and that's what the casuals get completely right: "If it don't really matter, then fuck it!" Ultimately, whatever we aim to do in life, it has to be fun on some level or another. The problem is, when a person is broken, suffering, and in need, a savior is a Godsend. If someone is really insecure or unhappy, a sport, job, hobby, or profession that promises improvement suddenly becomes very serious business. 

Same for a person, community, place, or anything else, really. It's so serious that it's life or death. That's why tension runs high, and things heat up. Junkies break shit because drugs were pure euphoria but turned their bodies into prisons. Professionals become nasty because their lives depend on it. Well, I'm here to ask you if that's really true or not. I think that if more people invested in themselves, each other, and the world. If more people chose to have skin in the game of life, we would all be radically happier than we are today, just as we are far happier now than we were a long time ago.

I know now that if I want to make sense of all my ideas about life and how it should be lived in our time, I need to compile all the information in one place. I know that I need to finish the first draft, give it room to breathe, come back to it, read the whole thing, edit like a maniac, and polish until publishable. I've known that for quite a while now. Until I get into the flow of doing that, though, I'm giving myself permission to continue rambling here, with no prep or edits needed, and no audience to worry about.

For times when a person has forgotten how to walk, lost their path, or fallen off. When the load becomes too heavy, they take a much-needed rest and find themselves in lands unknown. Times like those, they need some help, and must never hesitate to help themselves. For me, this random blog of mine will always be that place where I can remind myself why I started, where I am, and where I'm going. I know that writing these separate articles with no one to read them might not directly contribute to any real results. Or maybe they might, it's hard to tell.

All I know is that the most important thing is for the words to keep flowing on the page. All the fucking shit I want to do in life, I just need to keep doing it man. It's all good in the hood, baby! One step in front of the other, and enjoy it on the way. Build shit that really matters to me, which excites me and makes me enthusiastic. I also feel like it's so important for me to take things slow as well, to heal and do the real work that truly fucking matters to me, not other people's ever-urgent wordly bullshit.

Like treating myself right, having my back, and improving my self-relationship. Imagine how well we could be if I always supported myself no matter what. If I checked in with myself often, prioritised my shit, and grew where I want to the most. I know one thing for sure: tomorrow, I need to sit down and seriously take stock of all my life investments, so I can lay down in stone what matters to me and what doesn't. 

Everything else goes from there. If a person were to read this blog, post by post, they might feel a sense of disappointment. I imagine they would find some great promise in the early post, watch slow, steady improvement, and then, a massive fumble due to the inconsistency. There might also be a ton of repetition in there. I'm sure I keep repeating my goals, how I'm gonna achieve them, and even philosophical ideas from my favorite people. Just because it's messy and ugly doesn't mean it's useless. I mean, if an alien looked at a dick or a pussy, it might find it disgusting, but folks pay good money for that shit nonetheless! 

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder" makes sense for odd public displays. To an up-and-coming writer, a readership and some feedback might seem better. I disagree. I think a writer needs to be able to write, read, edit, polish, and publish their work before they can bring people in for feedback. I think it's an especially pertinent skill, solid self-judgement, for writers, especially. Because books are difficult to read, and words can get so boring. 

Real, accurate, and helpful feedback, especially at the earlier stage, would be a logistical nightmare. Fundamentally, it seems that writing is the ability to form stories using language. Stories, in this case, are just specific nodes of data, strung together in a way that makes sense. That last sentence being a casual explanation of what stories are, compared to this next sentence with no rhyme or reason. 

KsjaH sdjkL nciSjjS sky jIuAsD bye Tailor, uLtr_sSAdf.

Both those "sentences" were just arrangements of symbols on a page. One makes sense, while the other confuses. Now, since writing is THAT process, it's honestly impossible without someone having something to say. Think about it, why would anyone write anything for no reason? What would they even write? How can anyone help them? Language doesn't accommodate the possibility. Being a form of structured data, stories are based on logic, logic that runs native to the Homo Sapien OS.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but logic demands a successive, linear progression of chronology and memory. We don't think of it that way, but memories are just records of experiences. All this is to say, that if the writer doesn't have any experience that she wishes to convey through her work, if she doesn't know what the hell she want to say, then it's very difficult for anyone to help her. Not that coaching, guidance, and feedback aren't helpful, by the way. All that stuff can definitely help, and is crucial to any serious project down the line.

But initially, it's more likely for ANYONE you bring in to drown out your voice with theirs, than to actually help develop yours. THAT, requires serious experience, and STILL can't be done without your commitment and contribution to the process. You see, no one owes us anything. Ain't no one can, will, or even fucking should do it for us. We owe it to them to see our vision to life in its full glory, before asking them to pay attention. That's what I believe, it makes me feel good, and I am excited about it. 

Adios & bidding adieu