Don't Just Be Here. Be here.

So, I started reading Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged and have found myself engaged, so far. I've definitely got quite a bit to go as there are 1168 pages of literary goodness, and I've yet to reach 50 pages. But, already I found a thing of beauty:

"He felt that he could forgive anything to anyone, because happiness was the greatest agent of purification. He felt certain that every living being wished him well tonight. He wanted to meet someone, to face the first stranger, to stand disarmed and open, and to say, "Look at me." People, he thought, were as hungry for a sight of joy as he had always been--for a moment's relief from that gray load of suffering which seemed so inexplicable and unnecessary. He had never been able to understand why men should be unhappy." - Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

I like this passage for a couple reasons. For one, Rand got a little crazy (in a great way) in capturing some subtle emotions that a person may feel when they have achieved that moment of happiness after a great deal of endeavoring to get it. I think of the day I decided to take the jump, and decided that I'd pursue passion over pure practicality. It was as if everything that had life had a pouch pocket filled with "Good-Goodness", and they all sprinkled a little bit on me that day, and I felt the good vibes. I wanted to jump in front of someone ... anyone ... and, let out an "Ayyyy!!" while smiling, and dougie-ing, simultaneously. I could relate to that feeling of genuine release.

But, I also like this passage because Rand goes beyond that capture of the happy person. Rand points out a simple, but magnificent truth: that, generally, people are hungry for the sight of joy, and defined joy as: "a moment's relief from that gray load of suffering which seemed so inexplicable and unnecessary." Think about it. Everybody's prone to getting all caught up in that "zone" throughout their day. Walking around on some lesser autopilot in between points A and B. Genuinely interacting at the points, but then returning to that quasi-social autopilot when going from point B to C. Etc, etc. I think everybody finds it truly refreshing when people are able to be fluidly "present" even when they're in the process of traveling in between the points they need to get to. How great of a gift is that moment when somebody is genuinely happy ... and, you notice it.

That's that shit, man. That's some good shit.

On that note. A bit of a throwback:

16 Days Ago. Tired. 3 in the AM.

I'm hungry, man. Got an appetite. Nigeria.
Haiti, Santiago, grumbling post-disaster areas.
Fatal furious.
Cable curious.
Google education gets me straight-stare serious.
Wide awake. I'm delirious.
Been out for hours. I'm livin' life--it ain't vicarious.
It's the shit that keeps me going: these experiences..various.
You just might try to shoot us, dig some holes out. Bury us.
But, trust. We'll find a way to spread about--become indigenous.

Tightrope (Wondamix) - Lyrics and Interpretation of Lupe's Verse

First of all, this song is the dopest I've heard (pretty cool visual, too) in quite a bit. I have an appetite for lyrics that are intellectually stimulating, and I think that the trio's words are laying on the perfect beat--especially Lupe's verse which could be heavier over anything less energetic, and punchy. As Lupe's intellect has been expanding, I've been noticing his word selection becoming more particular, and I think his latest verse is quite the piece. I mean, you gotta think about what he's saying. It's of long-term value, to be sure.

Verse as a whole first:

"Greetings. Welcome to the meeting of the minds that be thinking all the time 'bout defeating all the blind following, swallowing, drinking of the thyme, honor traditions of keeping in a line. I prefer to figure 8 in Mandelbrot. Rock all night 'til the candles on my mantle stop, and it's paid programming on every single channel. Watch televised revolutionaries on the chapel tops shouting down at Babylonian accounting. Medieval mathematics keep us average in amounting. But, I surpass that. I dropped out of they math class. I am 'cause I thought. Now, my tightrope's like a sidewalk. Blaow!"

Lyrics bolded. Interpretations italicized.

"Greetings. Welcome to the meeting of the minds that be thinking all the time 'bout defeating all the blind following, swallowing, drinking of the thyme, honor traditions of keeping in a line."

Interpretation: For simplicity's sake, Lupe establishes the existence of two groups of people: One group, who he implicitly identifies with, is meeting (which he welcomes you to) as they obsess over how they could give vision (or, light, which can translate to knowledge) to the those who are blind (or, in the dark, or unenlightened) to paths that are not already well-established, hence honoring the traditions of keeping in a line. In addition, these blind followers drink on thyme, an herb which has received a lot of attention for its healing effects for numerous ailments--implying that these blind followers who honor established traditions are attempting to heal themselves of something.

"I prefer to figure 8 in Mandelbrot. Rock all night 'til the candles on my mantle stop, and it's paid programming on every single channel.

Interpretation: As opposed to following the established linear paths that keep people from stepping beyond the single-file boundaries, Lupe prefers to "figure 8 in Mandelbrot". Mandelbrot is a mathematical program which I don't understand all the details about. However, the important point of the Mandelbrot reference, I think, is this: "When computed and graphed on the complex plane the Mandelbrot set is seen to have an elaborate boundary which does not simplify at any given magnification" (Wiki). So, no matter how much you magnify, there is no distinct boundary. Ultimately, Lupe contrasts the traditions of keeping in a line with his preference of thinking of ways to, not only do away with lines altogether doing figure-8s, but blur the lines as well. For added effect of his obsession, Lupe communicates that his philosophical endeavors go late into the early morning: this is typically when nothing is on TV but paid infomercials.

"Watch televised revolutionaries on the chapel tops shouting down at Babylonian accounting. Medieval mathematics keep us average in amounting. But, I surpass that. I dropped out of they math class. I am 'cause I thought. Now, my tightrope's like a sidewalk."

Interpretation: Now, I just don't know if this part is filled with specific references, or generalized references. I've tried to do some research on the Babylonians and their dealings of their finances, and I've become sort of reacquainted with some really, really old history classes (Code of Hammurabi - eye for an eye, establishment of written records, such as contracts, certifications, and other legal documents), but I really couldn't narrow down what Lupe was really referencing. I mean, televised revolutionaries on a chapel could be taken as some specific religious, or spiritual personalities who are in a position above those who do the accounting (or, financial record keeping). Or, maybe he's generally saying that those at the top of the church are commanding accounting from above--I just don't know. As for the "Babylonian accounting", Lupe could just be referencing the fact that record keeping in the form of legal documents became a part of societies during the period that Babylon was one of the cities of significance. As for medieval mathematics, I think Lupe references the relationship between peasants (common people who were free to leave the land their manor) and serfs (common people who were bound to the manor they lived on), and their responsibility to the manor (property owned by the local lord). During medieval times, the commoners had basically two options:

Option 1: Do the work that they were assigned to do on the manor whether they liked it or not, and receive the local lord's word that he would protect him from the dangers that lurked beyond his land.

Option 2: Risk his life and livelihood to try and find another life beyond the boundaries of the manor which could result in a better life, death, or a life identical to the one he just tried to flee.

This medieval predicament parallels the predicament that many of us still face today, which translates simply to: Either stick to the pursuit that's tried and true, or take the risk to pursue your passion. These "medieval mathematics" create a divide of values that keep the masses from amounting. Many find themselves falling in line for what's tried and true. Some take the risk and pursue their passions despite the thin probability of success. Either way, you're on some "tightrope" to success.

Lupe ends his verse announcing that he is beyond that predicament, and that he decided not to be educated in such mathematics: He is because he thought. And, because he thought, his tightrope is a more walkable, like a sidewalk.

"Blaow!"

Interpretation: Onomatopoeia for the explosion of your mind.

Yeah, I'm going to go pick up pieces of my brain now.

Don't Even Try It

Sculpture by BJ Lasponas

Why does dream chasing incite some of the strongest feelings of fear you've ever felt? Maybe it has something to do with chasing the unreasonable. Pursuing a reality that the present has very little, if any, evidence that others would connect the points together to imply the dream of which you speak about ... or, don't speak about enough. Open your mouth about you being honest with yourself about yourself, and I swear that everybody in the world knows more than you do about what's possible, and what isn't. I suppose it's why many successful people necessarily had to be perceived as some mess of crazy if their paths weren't from some position of exceptional opportunity. But, when a crazy person succeeds, the pieces come together and people might swear that they understood the inevitability.

Hindsight is 20/20.

There must be some self-deception about the odds of the future--the persistence of the irrational idea that despite all that you have not accomplished, you will become great. In fact, a podcast on Radiolab WNYC touched upon a study on winning swimmers and found that winning swimmers were most likely to deceive themselves in their preparation phase before the race as compared to those swimmers whom were honest with themselves. But, is it really lying to yourself when the future has not elapsed yet? I get the sense that the future is something like Schrödinger's cat except with many more possibilities than just two. Though, all the possibilities can be summed up under two major systems: Either I will succeed, or I will fail--and, until I explore that future I am simultaneously a success and a failure.

At this moment, I'm basically starving for any sense of fearlessness from anywhere. So, this song by Colbie, though not about pursuing your life's passions in the same sense I am currently obsessed with, hits a nerve as the energy of the song captures that moment of strength and vulnerability: to be brave enough to believe in what reasonable people would never allow enough risk to believe. (Not too mention she can take some stress off of the eyes.) I am still a step behind her process. I am still wanting to jump, and her work is a capture of the moment where she's already suspended in the air. My toes are off the cliff..

"Don't Get Impatient When It Takes Too Long...

Drink it all even when it tastes too strong. I gotta feel alive even if it kills me ... promise to always give you me ... the real me."

- Drizzy - Light Up (Ft. Jay-Z) CDQ/No Tags

Because not everybody gets it right the first time. Because I learned from my friends' experiences that dissing my parents to chase your passions may not be well worth it when the time you have with your parents may be a lot shorter than you'd care to imagine. Because whenever I've let truth and honesty guide my decisions, and exercised a little bit of steadfastness, life has lead me to a place where the direction of where I must go is apparent. Because becoming the values that I wish to see permeate throughout the world through living, and potentially through my offspring is where my idea of success lies. Because truth pays off in the audits...

My soul vibrates in a jazz progression. I continue. Head up. Ready for life's lessons. Not to mention, I'm tired of not doing exactly what I feel it is I should be doing anyway.

Under the Radar, and Into the Woods: The Introduction

So, I've been in a bunker.

Since March.

Though, the frequency of my excursions from my stronghold have increased lately due to birthdays, graduations, and the rare extroversion of some of my very closest friends. I've been exceptionally introverted for the last two months because I went from being on a path of significantly predictable financial security and stability to some higher variety of Bumhood over a very spiritually-taxing, and confusing weekend. Since then, many hours have been allocated between catching up on leisure reading (trudging through a book titled The Creative Life by Bob Ostertag, with In The Fed We Trust queued up, and its pages itching for a rub), regaining momentum in my creative endeavors (getting my sketching and rendering skills up, familiarizing myself further with Adobe PS, and beginning to orient myself to Logic and Reason, and singing more often), increasing my fitness level (started that P90 even though I was by no means chub), staying up on current events (in the fashion of NPR, as well as through blogs), self-evaluating and re-evaluating (fine-tuning "the machine" and its processes), job searching (though, I ain't no Aloe Blacc), researching academic pathways (as if I were confident that any of these pathways would bring me closer to self-actualization), contemplating my stance in this discussion, adjusting the family mission statement and dynamic, and contemplating the valuation of a successful life--need it really be said? A lot's been a brotha's mind. Alcohol occasionally helps to take the load off, though my endorphins from being active have been real good at warding off the big demons. But, to bring it back to the straw that broke the camel's back and led me to construct a psychological stabilizer in the form of excommunication by my own decree, it wasn't until recently (maybe two or three weeks ago) that I finished cycling through my grieving process, and am ready to jump back into the rivers of the world, once again--but, in a considerably different psychological and spiritual context.

Let's bring it back. Let's bring it back. (If this were an episode of Lost, then this would be a flashback.)

It's the end of August 2008. After two years of waiting to get into a nursing program, I finally started the beginning of what I hoped would not be the rest of my life. I was starting a nursing program at a junior college in Fairfield, CA--my ego in full bloom, and inconspicuously ashamed for two reasons:

1. I had always considered myself of higher than average ability to achieve due to my achievements in high school despite my often reckless study habits. And, despite my ability, here I was at a JC. Now, let's not braid it all up too quickly. I recognize that transferring to a 4-year from a JC is a legitimate alternative pathway to academic success--but, being young and having been raised in a society that primarily assesses the value of a person by the achievements they can list on a resumé got me feeling rather embarrassed that I was starting a nursing program at 22 y/o with no degree, when I felt there was a significant probability that I could have graduated that same year from some place more prestigious.

2. At this point in my life, I did not know what I wanted to do. But, then again I never really had the opportunity to genuinely explore just what it was I wanted to do for the rest of eternity. For one thing (and, possibly the only thing), I've always had a mother who had mastered psychological dominipulation (domination and manipulation in the same act). How had she achieved this? A lifetime of repetition coupled with one of the most effective non-response poses you've ever seen, and then somehow strengthened by a "You must be crazy" look that even the Romans couldn't have learned to sculpt to precision. The guidance started young (possibly even when I was still in the womb):

Stranger X: So, are you going to be raising a little doctor, or lawyer?

Dear Mother: Oh, no, no. He's going to be a nurse first. Then, he can do whatever he wants after. But, he'll be a nurse first.

Take this sample of a conversation, and multiply it by every social gathering throughout the year (the Hallmark holidays, family gatherings for birthdays, weddings, funerals, promotion parties, housewarmings, graduation parties, fiestas...any place there could be a conversation about the future of children), multiplied by every year I've been alive. And, you have a Southern, Affluent, Catholic-Raised, Traditional, Conservative Filipino brainwashing at its finest. My mind was dominated by my mother's repeated message. Ask me what I wanted to do at any age until I was 20, and I would simply repeat what my Mom would say pretty close to verbatim:

Stranger X: So, what are you going to do?

Me: I'm going to be a nurse first. It's not exactly what I wanted to do. But, I'll do what I really want to do after. But, I'll finish nursing first.

Stranger X: Oh! Why nursing?

Me: Oh.... uhhhhh (FUCK. WHY?)... Hmm, I never really thought about it. (Well, ain't thatta bitch.)

I had never really thought about it, and never really gave the future much serious thought beyond nursing because ... I mean ... shit was laid out. When you pop out of the womb and just start walking on the path laid out in front of you, questioning whether the path should be made of concrete, tile, or marble doesn't really come to mind when nobody had asked why the material was chosen. I just walked, ate, slept, shat, showered, loved, stretched, sweated, and everything else on that shit. No one asked me why I was doing everything on a road of scrubs and stethoscopes until senior year in high school. And, by that point, I really didn't know anything else. People had their dreams all dressed up real nice, and I didn't even exercise the idea that I could have a dream.

....I just earned grades.

The summer before my first year in college was one of the most creative of my life: I taught myself to play the guitar, taught myself to play the drums, was learning how to the bass, and wrote poems regularly that explored emotional depths so personal and dark that I probably made it to another universe through a black hole in the earth's core through them. I didn't realize it then, but creativity would become the coping mechanism with which I would protect my ego and mask the suffering that I could not communicate to a parent who was unwilling, and possibly incapable of listening.

At 18, I was at a point where I was given pretty much anything I ever really needed. Clothes on my back, food to eat, my own bed in my own room, a car, a cell phone, internet to browse Asian Avenue on ... shit man, I was living the life. My dad was working 16 hour days on the regular to keep everyone comfortable and then some, and my mom would average 4 hours of sleep during tax season to get it in for the family. I knew they cared about my brother and me. I didn't know what my dreams were, but I was constantly reminded that money was the key to security in everything from relationships to health. Nursing had one of the highest probability points on the graph in regards to job availability and security, and one of the highest incomes compared to its cost of education.

"Fuck dreams. We gotta make money, out here! .... and, reliably."

I'm pretty sure when I reflect on my thoughts at that point in my life, that definitely was not what I was thinking. But, if you glanced at what I did in the years that led up to my ultimate initiation in nursing school, it sure looked like it was.

End of Tape 1, Side 1.

It's Coming....

I've made the decision to begin blogging again.

This time around I plan on making posts as all-inclusive, and with as much of the truth as possible (as long as it does not have untoward effects on others). Fucka polite, and professional forum. This is my "Nation" anyway. As for how the blog's to effect me?

I figure, "Ah, what the hell."

Ain't nobody really reading this, as it stands now--and, if that changes? Well, I don't plan on censoring me as much as I used to in my day-to-day life, anyhow. I've always been on the "very tactful, and sometimes to the point of silence" end of the blunt-tactfulness spectrum. So, I'm finding that my blunted outlooks are often inherently tactful anyway. Plus, I've always wanted to keep some sort of history of my thoughts as well as have a tangible tracking of my growth and ideas. It's fun to look back in time, and see what about you has changed, stayed the same, or was lurking in the background waiting to dominate the foreground without you even realizing it.

I had the itch to start writing, and like many creative itches of mine, I have found that the work involved in the piece will be much, much more than I had initially envisioned in all of those 10 seconds of inspiration that got me to loading up the blog on the laptop screen. I've got the coming piece saved, and plan on finishing the draft (Can you do me a favor? If I pull it together, make it) sooner than later ... music just finds its way in sometimes.

Anyway, a big ol' Mojo Jojo poop post is about to top the pile some time this week, and I just wanted to put in a little warm-up stretch so that no muscles got strained from the massiveness of the insertion.

As you were.