To a Degree

Disclaimer: The content below is meant to be read for strictly entertainment purposes and does not necessarily represent the views and beliefs of the author. Read and interpret at your own discretion.


Hello World,

Completion is around the corner. Ease of access encourages continued maintenance and, therefore, has been a resounding success… So far.

So where does the ball roll now? Conventional wisdom argues that one simply makes a list and goes bananas completing the list at set deadlines. Simply sitting around and enjoying the cleanliness, though tempting, wouldn’t make the list; even if I made one. One is faced, yet again, with the ever-present conundrum plaguing the Americas: The pursuit of happiness. Being happy is like gripping sand: You can’t; it slips through your fingers, you lose precious time, and much is left to be desired. It’s never enough. Pursuing implies chasing, chasing implies catching, and catching implies obtaining. Pursuing happiness, therefore, implies obtaining happiness. Maybe the scholars argue that it’s not about pursuing happiness so much as it is about maintaining hope, but I’ve since debunked the notion of hope two posts ago.

I will make use of the views employed by both generations past and present. There is merit to be taken from both perspectives, most certainly. The notion of spirituality, though intangible, is an asset of generations past. Putting the framework together is a quality developed by generations present. This framework gifts us with stability of mind: the present. Pursuing love of one’s self has no clear answer, but the answer certainly lies not in dwelling nor the indulgence of sin. Existing is difficult. Changing is hard. Changing gets easier, but the hard part is doing it every day.

Yesterday, at my leisure, I toiled away at an arbitrary Calculus problem that a friend sent me very near the evening’s end. The lights were off as the green orbs of my lava lamp slowly floated to the notes of smooth music resonating through the air. My laptop, tented, laid poised to tackle the rather nasty question before me. The green light shined through my glass, casually deflected by the bubbles within, fluidly moving with every deliberate wrist motion. The room was cool. I was sleepy. The cusp of success was present, but felt underwhelming. I needed merely to roll from my chair, onto my bed, under the covers, and go gently into that good night. I did not go gently into that good night.

Childishly, I left for my couch and finished watching Maniac. I’d be fibbing if I said that watching Manic was all I was doing. My affliction went with me, the one that could have gone gently into that good night. You know, the one that wedged itself into my humanity: It followed me like the demon it is, flowed through me, and was me. After Maniac was done, artistic impressions of intensity filled the screen with scores of intensity; the kind of artificial intensity granted during, perhaps, the clever climax of a well-crafted montage meant to rivet, dislodge, and motivate you for tomorrow; assuming, of course, the right frame of mind. You know, the frame of mind existing only when in unison with your demon, your darkness, and yourself. The frame of mind that, momentarily, allows you to feel again. The frame of mind that allows you to believe again. The frame of mind the demon grants by spreading darkness throughout your mind. I’d done what I’d sought not to: I’d lived for the present.

The sobering next day is where I am, presently. I can feel, clearly, that I’d lived for yesterday and not for today. The moment where everything fell apart was during the underwhelming late evening. My mind lost its way during these tempting hours of the night again. I wanted to feel and everything I had done that day left desire at the waste side. This is where the problem is, I think. Had I employed the previously mentioned gym routine, I could have sky rocketed my endorphins, fallen asleep, and woke the next day feeling like a champion. Desire may feel like it’s been tossed aside, but in reality, it’s being delayed. Desire cannot be ignored, otherwise, like the child it is, eventually, it will act out. The path, then, seems clear, but not attainable at present. I will work towards the gym strategy in time. For now, I continue with what I’ve been doing this past while.

Farewell World.


Disclaimer: The content above is meant to be read for strictly entertainment purposes and does not necessarily represent the views and beliefs of the author. Read and interpret at your own discretion.



Disclaimer: The content below is meant to be read for strictly entertainment purposes and does not necessarily represent the views and beliefs of the author. Read and interpret at your own discretion.


Hello World,

An interesting thing, being single at 31. Youth, alone, isn’t enough; a balance is required: Money, fitness, and cleanliness must be part of the package. Semblances of courtship from my past flare up in me now and, even if only nostalgic, relieve the cumbersome nature that age brings. Viewing hope from the angle of loving yourself is surprisingly effective. Inhabiting a messy home only to wake to portions of a clean one is subconsciously powerful. Acting before stress turns to frustration lies parallel with how I was once emotionally successful. One must live for tomorrow; not for today.

The beginning seems, and really is, simple. A burst of frustration and, blammo, you’re a new man, until you regress, yet again. Strategy has been employed this time around. Cleaning supplies have been strategically placed for ease of access rather than clumped together in a bin. Cupboards have been organized in ways that foster ease of access with lack of clutter. Formation of new habits stand tried and true as the least effective approach, therefore, one must seek to eliminate dependence on this. Easy access takes its place.

I’ve learned and heard of psychological studies whereby to be most productive, one must begin a task right away and continue it for five minutes. After five minutes of enduring, one will be more likely than not to see the task to completion. Inhibiting this strategy, I’ve noticed, is the clutter surrounding these tasks. Having my office desk clean and free of clutter has proven time and time again to aid in productivity and the elimination of procrastination. A sink full of dishes discourages beginning the task and is incredibly overwhelming of a prospect, but with just one or two dishes to scrub, the task is digestible. With the immediate stress burden minimized, five minutes of enduring occurs more fluidly, and more tasks are completed. Similarly so, perhaps, is the case with cleaning. Maintaining cleanliness is encouraged through ease of access and lack of clutter and, therefore, the same process should occur… In theory.

Strategies like these appear helpful, but the devil lies in the words unsaid. Like a contract, the fine print matters. One must have sufficient sleep and, world, I can assure you this is not the case today; my mind is functioning a few pistons short. I did this on purpose so as to shift my schedule to encourage fatigue at an earlier time. In many ways, we are like children: we are stubborn and want to stay up to have fun. The nuances of starting to become tired begin a few hours before you go to bed. People become rather… Silly. Desire lies rampant in these tempting hours of the night. Desire leads to stupidity if not carefully accounted for. To combat this, I plan to employ a gym routine with scores of music in a bid to live for tomorrow and not for today. Again, this is preceded by ease of access so as to ensure the cycle may continue.

Ease of access recurs as a central concept to encourage completion of tasks. Vice versa is the case to not complete tasks. Could one employ strategies such as these to combat afflictions of the mind? As I sit and reread this revolutionary concept, I can’t help but notice that I’m tip toeing into theory and straying from practice, but only ever so slightly. Importance in writing is in place because I wish to be able to recount these thoughts since the mind is so useless at remembering the thoughts and feelings of the past. So, yes, this is a message to the present you, whoever you are: take note, recognize the validity, and apply!

Farewell World.


Disclaimer: The content above is meant to be read for strictly entertainment purposes and does not necessarily represent the views and beliefs of the author. Read and interpret at your own discretion.


Disclaimer: The content below is meant to be read for strictly entertainment purposes and does not necessarily represent the views and beliefs of the author. Read and interpret at your own discretion.

Hello World,

On March 17, 2018, my mother passed away. She passed a mere three days after the widely recognized Stephen Hawking.

My misery began long before this date; continuing to this date; contributing to my fate. I suffer from the same affliction as my mother did. Despite knowing its consequence, I relish the moment it strikes. Past civilizations referred to sickness as “Demons.” This reference spawned an enemy in response to an unknown evil doing harm; something hidden or, metaphorically speaking, “in the dark,” or “dark.” Logically, my affliction is well attributed to a direct cause. Illogically, this direct cause is not so easily controlled.

By thoughts of generations past, I’m afflicted by demons. By thoughts of generations present, I am a victim of manipulated feedback loops and altered levels of neurotransmitters. To peers in the dark, I did it to myself (and they’re not entirely wrong). By thoughts of generations forward, well, that’s left to me, isn’t it? How very tempting it can be to point a finger to one thing or the other… To blame something.

Whether it be by excusing these acts as matters heavily influenced by circumstance or by succumbing to the sinful bliss by the merit afforded by law; there is only one finger and it can only point at one thing. When the pointed finger strikes blame, we seek to justify. The justice sought results in dancing from reason to reason, but to one’s own detriment and the prolonging of the affliction. How terribly positioned, this darkness; wedged right into the fabric of one’s humanity. This affliction has either hidden who I am or it has outright destroyed it. What’s left of my hope lies in the former.

Disenchantment is a television show that recently came out on Netflix. In one of the later episodes, Princess Bean questions, “what’s this feeling I don’t want to drink away.” In response, Elfo says, “It’s hope.” There are many references in this show to classic literature, but this, I believe, refers to Pandora’s box. In Pandora’s box, all of man’s evils are released and are left to plague the world, with the exception being hope.

In the wake of my mother’s passing, financial woes I’d claimed were part of what led me to give up on myself had been virtually eliminated. I was sad to notice that in spite of this, much of what I thought would emotionally navigate me on a more positive path simply wasn’t present. In one of my more recent posts, I mentioned the lack of fulfillment that came with earning a significant income and suggested to simply, “never give up.” I re-explored the path of a high income once again, but came to the same resolution: My time is more valuable than any kind of income.

The other part of the issue I’d claimed to exist was my loneliness. Losing my family brought on many psychological challenges. Still, these were challenges I had overcome in the past when I’d decided to lose weight in the wake of my first break up. Vividly, I recall the motivation for losing my weight: I was trying to prove that I wasn’t worthless and that it was circumstance that led to me to failing at everything and not who I was as a person. Trying to prove something has been the backbone of everything I’ve accomplished, but when you realize that nobody cares, your maturity shines light onto the darkness that was pervasive through the vitality of youth… So perhaps it’s not a darkness that enshrouds the lack of action pervasive with me. Perhaps it’s the light shined onto the darkness, that is hope.

How backwards this has become. Introspection reveals, then, that love appears to be the sole thing that kept the train running, whether I was single or not. Love stood at the side lines. I loved myself enough to believe in a future where I was not a failure. I loved my previous girlfriends enough to believe that I could have a family or that our incompatibilities could be resolved. So commonly one is told: “You can’t begin to love someone else if you can’t even love yourself.” Love blinds, uplifts, and motivates. Perhaps, then, love will blind me to the reality of hope and push me into a direction other than down. Let me try, then, world, to love myself… Even if I wish not to. It’s only so frequently after love, that one realizes the sobering reality. Being lost in love, then, I will explore. Let’s see what happens.

Farewell World.


Disclaimer: The above is meant to be read for strictly entertainment purposes and does not necessarily represent the views and beliefs of the author. Read and interpret at your own discretion.

Brain Storm

Hello World,


The days have passed blissfully surrounded by family. Surrounded by support is a feeling that I have been struggling to get used to and to be honest, it’s a matter of circumstance that prevents the whole ordeal from ever reaching maturity… Perhaps this is something to work towards? Contradictions surround the subject of attaining happiness. It’s not a topic that goes by too often in my head for it’s indisputable that money and my daughter are at the forefront of every decision that I make and not balance and support.

What happens when all that’s left is yourself, around 50 grand, two years before you’re 30, and a daughter? That sounds like a riddle I’m challenging you to solve but, the reality is that it’s the riddle of circumstance and arguably the riddle of life.

I remember awaking one day a few months ago to an arm that had fallen asleep ever so slightly. I sat up and began to thrash my arm outward against the bed to get rid of the feeling, however, instead of the usual relief that followed- my arm numbed further. My pupils dilated and my heart raced but, adrenaline remained subdued as I jumped out of bed and started to punch my chest as if to tell my heart to, “Smarten the #$%& up!” It was a scary situation which fortunately resolved itself, however, in those moments where I was punching my chest I began to think afterward what it was that was instinctively going through my mind as I pounded away like a gorilla with my right arm… and it was absolutely not money.

Despite the job I have right now, I feel as trapped as I did while working at McDonald’s… What do these feelings of despair really mean and why, when trying to rid myself of this despair, doesn’t there ever seem to be a solution or escape? Further, why do I feel like most people I meet are content with being nearly broke at all times? Could the consumption of material items be the answer for the lack of money? One could argue greed would be the answer but the idea of one’s greed explaining being broke is simply contradicted by exploring the avenue of the ‘rich getting richer’ and the ‘poor getting poorer” –  which is in turn contradicted by my own meandering experience – And believe me when I say that such an avenue gets complicated fast and this is a blog post, not an argumentative essay.

Sometimes analyzing the situation of happiness isn’t as in depth as I made it out to be. There are some things that are just out of your control, and being stuck in a city along with the financial burden that I have is one of those situations. In a situation of financial burden and isolation, fortunately, the answer is very simple… Pursue money as hard as you can and hope for the best… So why while pounding my chest were these gains simply not a desire? Could it be that I don’t want any of this? Obviously nobody wants to work their life into oblivion! The circle is infinite and it’s with that I end this blog post-

… Never give up! Persist!

Feel free to leave a comment in the comment section below and don’t forget to share!

Farewell World.


-This blog post was written (not published) on 2015-12-31.


Hello World,

Through the cluster of memories, with more to come, I came home.

I came home to the turbulent reality that all for which I’d thought was not. I took steps forward, past the matriarch of Princess Toadstool towards her majesty’s carriage filled with… abandonment? She sat… Her blue eyes avoiding mine… a pane between us… such pain between us… I rose my hand towards her blue eyes and stroked the pain between us. My fingers tapped gently… trying to dance as we could have… As we should have…

Her head fell, clasped between her hands for the briefest of moments. Ferociously… Blindly… Her eyes, blue, rose to mine and turned to ash. Wrinkles atop her forehead deepened as her fire… the fire I’d been smitten by… snuffed us. A whip cracked, shattering the pain… My pain… Pain I’d seen, but could never touch; a barrier though lifted- a resolution now far. The princess was off, but not with her head.

The prince fell… blue… breathless… on one knee. His blue eyes, now clasped between his hands for the longest of moments, will never rise. No arrow. No direction. No soldier to fight along side him against dragons and demons. The prince’s eyes, blue, rose to a baron ring before him; a ring with no contender. A darkness grows… His blue eyes never rise.

Falling, the bright stars twinkle above him… Far more steadfast than his art.

Farewell World.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

Hello World,


have yourself a merry little christmas

let your heart be light…

from now on- our troubles will be out of sight.

have yourself a merry little christmas.

make the yule tide gay

from now on, our troubles will be miles away.

here we were as in olden days… “Happy ‘Golden Days’… of Yours

Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us… Once more.

Through the years, we all will be together- had the fates allowed

hang a shining star upon the highest bow

Have yourself a merry Little christmas… Now.


Farewell World.


Smooth Nostalgie.

Hello World,

I woke today, went to work, came home, showered, did chores, and ultimately lived life.

It’s in these moments that you live that you can finally find joy. Recording them is, well, ultimately, without use… You are in every second of the day, alive… Alright… Broader context time:

The world brushed me by like a silky shadow silhouette on this weird little dark day. So wordy, and ultimately so pointless, such is that of your next breath, your next insight, your next tomorrow, forever a trickling pleasurable pain that only in its final moments before its days’ end, prove fruitful… At least it feels this way… As I’ve said before it’s ultimately so pointless.

Who will read this upon my passing? Would it even really matter? The World, you world, are ultimately full of people like me, well not quite, but my ignorance sure seems to concur

FUCK IT!!!! I’M GOING TO BED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Explanation to follow? Hopefully but probably not.

Farewell World.