2016 throwaway header

I've been wanting to write about fibromyalgia for a long time now, but I want it to be a very deep and comprehensive piece; I keep NOT writing about it BECAUSE I want it be a very deep and comprehensive piece. So, let me start simply.

Hi. My name's Cletus, and I have mild brain damage.

Banking on Time

Time is a part of me.  It is a part of our life.  Time is all the little bits that build up who someone is, and they use these bits to fill and shade all the different colors of who they are. I am content giving these away, usually, as I feel like the time is more often exchanged - I give some of my time to be with dear friends, as they give some of theirs in return.  We each grow a shade from the other, and I love that!  In other ways, the time is giving for learning, or for an experience, or just to let someone else hold that time, because they need to know that someone, somewhere, wants them to have this.  They want to know that someone else cares to give their time, and the subsequent benefits of what that time is being utilized for.

What I no longer have the time or care for are the folks that feel the need to take my time.  Taking it without return, taking it without asking, and taking my goodwill-given time once, only to persist in continuously consuming it at no personal benefit from the ensuing grief and frustration.

We are all the sum of our parts.  One of the most criminally undervalued parts derives from us all being creatures living in time.  We have set beginnings and fixed ends - even if we are unaware of the latter.  We only have so much time, in an unknown quantity.  By this, we only have a finite amount of time to use or give - and we never know how much that may be.  Give your time to things that positively affect change in others and the world around you.  Give your time to build yourself - learn a song, cook, take an afternoon nap.  Do something with the time that you have.  But don't just mindlessly give it away, or let any other person take that time from you.

I'm not saying to quit your job, leave your family, and tour the world.  I mean - you do you, if that's what you need.  What I am saying is to always keep somewhere in the back of your mind the faint reminder that you can only keep doing what you are doing for so long.  So, make the most out of it.  Make amazing memories.  Tell better stories.  Waste time creatively.  Just don't ever let anyone take that time from you.  You wouldn't let someone steal your blood, organs, or lungs - why let them take another part of your being that directly impacts your mortality?

Infamous Footwear

So here's a story.  For almost three years, I wore the same shoes.  The laces had changed a few times, and I guess you could even say the shoes had changed.  They had been filled with love, feet, socks, and powder.  They saw the same miles I did; they stared down the same storms I walked through.  They were a companion to me. 

They weren't just footwear, they were my gospel.

Alright. Fine - I was just replacing the shoes at frequent intervals with another pair of the same make and model.  That was, until this past Friday when, in a bout of #DONE, I bought new shoes.  The hashtag and all caps implying a tween-eque emphasis which BUI (Bold, Underline, and Italics) and all capital letters can't capture quite as well on its own.  Of course...

They're fine shoes, serviceable items of footwear, albeit needing to be broken in.  A pair of canvas loafers for boring things, and some knockoff take on the Nike FreeRunner.  And they both fit like cardboard hot glued to rubber, and sprayed down in the oil of a beaver's anus.

I started wearing my old shoes while I worked retail (for the record, Nike Lunarglides).  Nine-plus hours a day on my feet, on top of repeated leg injuries, required a comfortable, supportive, and squishy ride.  For the uninitiated, to that point I had repeated ankle and tendon injury, to which I've added the joy of a stress fracture since.  Through these recoveries, I had the same shoes.  Wide base to correct any pronation.  Medium arch support.  Enough shock absorption to make a Clydesdale runner like myself feel like Cloud Nine came down and tied around my feet.  Solid grip to keep my feet from flying out from under me.  They were light, breathable, and comfortable as all hell.  The only problem being the biggest - they weren't cheap, and the fit gave out after 300 miles of use.

I switched shoes on a whim.  Well, I was frustrated that a lot of the old aches and pains worked their way back in.  The most recent round was pushing 500 miles of use, so it's not an actual surprise, just... laziness.  I was elated at first.  These new shoes were easy to find, buy, and they looked great.  Sure, my foot settled a little differently, and they didn't have the arch support, and the kind-of floated across surfaces without any traction, and they weren't as squishy....

Oh god... what have I done?!

See: I didn't even think about it.  Three years of exactly the same thing, and I forgot why I started wearing them in the first place.  I was not only complacent - I was belligerent with my footwear.  I didn't stop to think about all the choices that led me to why I was wearing that particular make and model, and I allowed a single moment - in a passing fancy - to undermine three years’ worth of orthopedic upkeep.

I was so used to things being the way they were, that I forgot why I set my life on that course to begin with.  I set myself up on a course, and carried through with it so easily, and for so many years.  After a while, I was so far from the point of origination, that I no longer remembered what I was in this for to begin with.

I'm fortunate that my complacency was as trivial as footwear, but I'm grateful for life's reminder of this very serious lesson: failure to use the past to make future decisions will only cause history to repeat. Oh, and something about complacency, not caring about things, yadda yadda yadda (I kid, I kid).  It's nice to have that little stick in the ribs every now and then - things that help you to wake up, look around, and realize that things are, for the most part, exactly how we set them out to be.  Focus on making things better, with the awareness of the past that led to them.  Understand that the choices made to get to today, are the results of years-worth of planning and focus.  Remember along the way the things that propel you into that future, without letting them drag you down.

Oh, and that a trip to Payless could utterly destroy you (not really). 

(But really).

Tap that Telethon!

The government has access to your phone records.  Rather, they have access to the electronic records generated by your telecommunications company every time you make a call - incoming number, its location (globally), and the length of time. These telecoms even have the ability to store and record the IP address of Skype calls, as well as other VoIP services.

Having taken my fair share of Battletoads calls while working for GameStop, I know this one well.

I also know that a citizen, with evidenced probable cause, can request a warrant for the phone records of another citizen.  These records will be maintained by the police, and submitted from them to a judge in cases of phone harrassment.  Both parties will be made privvy to the information relating only to their case.

This is within a citizen's sphere of influence.  I think if we took a moment to understand that our capabilities within our own legal system come so close to that of our government's, we could all calm the hell down and think about this like rational people.

Crazy expectations, I know.

Look, I'm not saying there isn't an irrational amount of hype over something that has been going on for ages.  The newest revision of the policy was enacted rapidly, building upon an older policy, and the public has lost the understanding and awareness of these in the shuffle.  That's the thing - we're afraid of something we don't understand, and it's easier to hype up than to explain it down.  For those still in the gray areas, CNN has a feature on "telephone tapping" that covers the whole thing.

In short, shaking this bit of laundry out for some fresh air is going to result in 'alterations' to the policy, and if those are executed, the burden will be shifted from the NSA to Homeland Security (as they are the current branch responsible for domestic threats).  Right now, the NSA is bound by old-world laws like 'probable cause' to secure a warrant to search any personal information of a US citizen.  This policy outlines their stipulations, and also details that a warrant is *not* needed if you are *not* a naturalized citizen (again, this is an old, old law - "telephones had wires and the internet didn't exist" old).  This also entails their authority over (and restrictions of) overseas communications with US citizens.

Homeland Security, however, doesn't need a warrant.  They don't even need probable cause.  Just a hunch.  This is what makes them effective at isolating domestic threats; not so good at being a police force. 

You want to do some good, either have the policy terminated, or leave it alone.  Anything else is just creating a precedent for something worse.

Definitions of Love

If the the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, then yes, you have to be fucking crazy to be in love with someone. Because waking up to the same person every morning for thirteen years and realizing they haven't decided to wake in the middle of the night, starting a chant to Lucifer, only to set your bed on fire while you were cocooned between comforters and flannel sheets - realizing this every morning - is going to drive you either crazy, or crazier in love with them. 

and I'm okay with this. 

but not the fire thing; fuck that noise.

Codex Corporeal

I have no clue what to do about this blog.  First, I hate the word ‘blog’.  Not with any real reason, more the general connotations of it.  Second, apparently to get any traction on the internet with a blog, you need to have a theme or a purpose to what you are blogging about.  That’s what really sticks in between my teeth.

See, I have – and had – no real set goal for this.  When I began, it was an outlet.  Something to get me started with my writing.  To that end, it has been quite useful.  Some of my older works were hell-on-wheels when it comes to everything – composition, syntax, punctuation, etc.  My other purpose was to vet out all the ghosts in my closets that I had been fighting with for years.

That took three entries.

So, I stood back, scratched my ass raw, and said fuck it.  I walked away for a bit, had some great ideas, and put my writing into those ideas.  So, like the ol’ come-around friend with benefits, I’m back at it again trying to stump up some new thoughts.  Problem is, I still have no clue what the theme of this should be.

I like cooking.  This is not a cooking blog, though.  I like politics.  This is about as political as a Yo-Momma-Thon.  Video games; not video games.  Inspirational; couldn’t give a rats ass if you’re inspired.  Music; yeah, screw that.  My brother in law already has a fantastic music blog – seriously: http://www.listendammit.com/

On thinking, I’ve decided to just keep this as a personal support system – a slice-o’-life collection.  My thoughts.  You know, like what LiveJournal was doing in the nineties, but without all the pretention.  Well, most of it.  This shall be my collection on thoughts as a living person – not on living, or being alive, or how to sustain the flesh, or how to engage with a platypus on philosophical matters – just all of it, while being none of it singularly.  My own codex corporeal.

So, that’s about it: this page links to the most interesting collection of nothing.  I may be biased, but, at least I’m not naked. Yet.

Cages

Despite going for a run over four hours ago, I sit here.  It’s late – well past midnight.  The deified ichor which permeated the very sweat of my body as I ran has formed a light film on my body.  My skin feels tight and alien regardless of how much whiskey I offer it.

I need to shower – I know.  Believe me: I know.  Housekeeping came first, though. 

I’ve had this thought itching in my head for nearly two days now.  The notion struck me yesterday while driving home, as if the force of a thousand cement mixers smashed into my body – in reverse.  It was as if for one, small, fleeting moment I could see the infinite curve of time.  I could understand tomes of glossolalia. I understood the largest secret in existence.

But it’s not a secret – in fact, it’s one of those things that doesn’t even exist.  It’s the base value in every equation, but we – as a culture – aren’t trained to value zeroes as a valid number.  Yet, without zero, there is no one, or two, or three, and onwards.  That’s Base systems for you – no one EVER credits zeroes.

This is a concept, though, so better to reduce everything to one word:  Cages.

See, I'm tired of people blaming cages for everything that's wrong with the world.  Maybe I'm just tired of people.  That's perfectly feasible - it seems the greater majority bares a vested interest in being miserable, while the lesser minority finds a way to monetize that malcontent.  I mean kudos and all, but for the love of humping monkeys:  do we need to perpetuate these miserable mentalities?

However, that's not my complaints with cages.  There’s a certain complacency to them - an inability to see the forest for the trees; the ocean for the waves; the day for the sunlight.  It's this defensive mechanism so many seem to spring upon the world, wherein they claim it is the world that's holding them down. 

This conjecture is not without merit.  We spend the first five years of our lives learning the rules of being alive – language, social interactions, when and how to use a bathroom, what is appropriate to wear in public, and so on.  The next thirteen are spent learning by was of large, impersonal centers of education.  Among the topics covered, we are taught diluted mathematics and physics, a vague understanding of classical and modern literature, and a sampling of music.  Our understand of history and politics is doubly reinforced – though its importance is easily halved.  In these arduous sessions, we are shown time and again how we humans have been oppressed through the ages.  How, from these oppressions, we’ve mounted large assaults resulting in fantastic cultural transformations.  How we fought archaic mathematics to learn the system we’ve used for over two centuries now.  How our concepts of physics has been locked since the early 20^th century.   How there will never be better literature than anything written prior to 1910. 

We are indoctrinated to believe that there is always some greater power holding us down.  That if in how ever many years a better boat has not been built, then there is no reason to go to sea.  From these foundations, we are parceled out, and we are assimilated into a faction that confirms that we – culturally - are, in fact, oppressed.  From organized religions to anarchy, they are all key in shaping our worldview.

They are key, because they all share the same core value – that there is a greater power bent on oppressing us.  In the case of God, we fight against Satan for the holy right.  In the case of Anarchy, we fight against the Government for the rights of the society.  We fight against the 2% because we’re the 98%.  We fight the Democrats because we’re Republicans.  The homosexuals because we’re straight.  The universe because – dammit all, we were here first.  There is a force holding us in our places, and there is another force that is diametrically opposed to this, and we should be in its good graces.

We are not taught that everything wrong with our worldview is “wrong” because someone else decided it for us – this is a concept we allow to be branded onto the grey matter between our ears.  In some cases, the logic sticks.  We accept their worldview, and things go on normally.  We never question whether there’s a greater machine in which we are simply cogs.  In other cases, we have revolutionary wars, Somali pirates, and government conspiracies regarding AIDS pandemics in Africa.

But the real cage – the very essence of what confines us; what cultivates us – has nothing to do with any of this.  This is all just the grand circus – a Sunday afternoon at the coliseum.  These things are just a vast ocean of red herrings to prevent a person from seeing the true Self.  There is only one cage: that which binds your spiritual self to your physical self.

You are inevitably – and invariably – capable of seeing the world in whatever way you want.  It is incumbent upon a person to perceive a red stop sign as being an indicator requiring a cessation of movement, as much as a for reading the bold, white lettering that is intended to reinforce this.  That sign does not say ‘Stop’; that shape does not, independently tell you place your foot on the brake pedal.  That is just a piece of wood or plastic.  Very ornate,  quite fetching, and fun to ricochet laser beams off of. 

Everything that you see and that you hear can only ever be interpreted by – you guessed it – you.  That sign doesn’t say ‘Stop’ – you are referencing what those shapes mean, and you are applying a value to it.  The shapes, letters; the letters, a word.  That word in turn has a motion. The motion, in this case, is referential by the presentation of the shapes – on a six-sided sign.  The sign is a color that you have been told to designate with a movement that will cause you to involuntarily freeze, or stop, before referencing what the words even mean.

In short – that sign only ‘tells’ you to stop your car, because that is how you are interpreting it; because that is how you are allowing yourself to be influenced by it.

No one can make you angry – you can get angry at what someone says, or you can be largely nonplussed.  No one can make you hit them – those synapses are under your control at all times.  No one can make you believe the world is holding you back – because you are the only one who can let the world hold you back.

When you remove all possible symptoms, you are left with the cause.  In this case, there is no one ‘thing’ acting as a true cage – except your own mind.  It has been trained to work for everyone except you.  And in doing so, it has made your body the first ‘cage’.

I tried to think of a synopsis – if you will – of my whole argument while running tonight.  One of the reasons I’m nervous about calling it a day is for fear of forgetting it.  So, without further ado, here you go:

It's not the government.
It's not religion.
It's not society.
The only cage we live in is that which ties ethereal to corporeal.
This cage can be made from lead or as prone to flight as a feather.
This is the cage that you bend to your will.
Everything else is the illusion.

Living is how you see it.  I can’t write few words and expect you to change your view – not only would that be impossible and unrealistic – it flies in the face of you discovering you.  If you see patterns and rhythms in society that resemble the corralling of livestock, that is present because of what you want to see.  If you see ultimate freedoms being suppressed, that is because you want to believe this is how a human behaves.  These are worldviews that have been twisted to fit a personal perspective or agenda.  We – as humans – have no such inherent limits.  We can do what we want, be who we want, in the ways that we want.  It’s easy to say being larger than our perspective is impossible; it is to give in to society’s expectation of what we should be.

Every single person is a light in the dark.  We are taught from youth to hide that light.  We are taught that the light brings the monsters – monsters of ego, selflessness, and the id.  We are never taught how to fight these monsters - simply that they are bad and must be avoided. We are taught a disassociated abstinence that sees what is wrong, but are taught that we cannot change these situations.  We are shown these faux cages and concepts meant to hold us back, instead of being shown how we are holding ourselves back. 

The easy, simple thing to do is to accept this truth.  It is to see life as a nine-to-five job, two and a half kids, white picket fence, golden retriever running the yard, hot dogs lightly burnt on the grill, and baseball on the old 46” telly.  This is the life we are given, and you know what? – it is easier.  Oh, fuck yes – so much easier to just be what the world expects.  But is it personally gratifying? – no.  Does it create a darkness in your soul for reasons you know now with solutions you will never know? – yes.  People are not being held back by the government any more than people are responsible for the moon being full one night, and new the next.  These are phases, and they too will pass.

The harder path is to find all the ways in which you’ve held yourself back.  To actually look into the pit, and face the demons.  Throw a hornet’s nest inside all the concepts that seem to make perfect sense.  If they still make sense when you’re done – congratulations: there’s nothing I can do for you.  Please collect your ribbon, party hat, and cake.  Exit’s to the left.

For me, it started with my repeatedly asking myself, “Why am I doing this?”  I wash the dishes because they’re dirty. I help at the shelter because no one else can.  I run because I want to lose some weight.  Not one of those is a purpose, though.  They are all excuses - every last one.  Not any of those is something that necessitates or implies my desire.  In a way, I can say that my life has been very reactive – something “needs” doing, so I do it.

That’s a whole lot of noise that needs fucking right there.   Know why?  I run for me – I love being fit and fast.  I wash the dishes for me – I want a clean kitchen.  I help at the shelter because I want to.

When you reduce the symptoms – the excuses – you’re left with nothing but yourself to be accountable.  Actually shaking down all that made me reactive, focused me on all of the ways I was not active.  And it was at that point that I realized, in providing an excuse for everything I did, I was making myself less than what I could be.  I wasn’t ever giving back to myself, but I was taking from myself.

I was making myself a cage to my own mind.