Four flame outs later and several lives ago.
Clean with alcohol only. Do not attempt to replace blown fuses. Do not remove access panels. Return to certified mechanic for regular maintenance. Made in the USA.
Showing posts with label youre not from here. Show all posts
Showing posts with label youre not from here. Show all posts
7/12/19
8/17/17
Funny Feedback Loops
To a point, there is a difficult loop of loops powering each other. A tipping point is approaching where we're going to have to make major decisions that I keep kicking down the road. I am completely torn between whether to go the prescribed medication route or not. There isn't a right answer. Most roads seem to lead to an early death and its kind of funny.
You pop the medication and wait for weeks to see if anything is going to happen. If nothing happens then you take some more. I guess "pop" is much too flippant. You rearrange all of your life routines to take the prescribed medications and present as stable as possible a body environment to present affects. If, with your new forced sleep patterns and dietary intake, there is no effect then you go back to consult and raise the dosage and wait a few more weeks and on and on until it clicks. Or never completely does. All the while, physical affects may manifest. Weight gains, weight losses, tics, shakes, nausea, fatigue, it varies from prescription to prescription. If it doesn't quite click, a new prescription is introduced to help. You may be weaned off of what you are already taking, you may not. Weeks upon weeks, months, of consultations and examinations and examinations and consultations and dealing with and juggling body changes and it may click. The changes may stick. And that is your new life. X pill at this hour, every single day, without fail, until you stop breathing, because your head will shatter if you stop taking it. In the mean time, enjoy the side effects, which will probably contain an assortment of shadows and echos in the corners of your consciousness that will follow you to your death.
Obviously, not a great answer. If you can't cope with the body changes, you're not going to be able to keep up with any sort of regimen. You're going to take the prescriptions inconsistently and exacerbate the already difficult process of ascertaining what, if any, affects are becoming present in your psychological make up from week to week. If you do manage to make it a few months and falter later down the road and start to slip into an inconsistent pattern of medicating you may be torn apart by the reawakening of whatever it was you are trying to lock away, squash, and overcome. If you do stick with the regimen, that pill is a constant reminder of the incomplete you. The you that is only "complete" if you swallow this spot. And if you can get past all of that and wear and break yourself into this life permanently linked to this pill and make your examinations and deal with the side effects that can be life threatening on their own, you still can and likely will experience periods where it doesn't work anyway.
Sooo we come to drinking. Alcohol. Good old alcohol. I already drink some on and off to manage pain. Between psychological scars and body scars, it kind of gets the job done. It gets the job done well enough, I should say. You don't focus on history and you don't feel the sharpest highs of the pain inside your body and it's easy enough to turn the dial up or down as necessary. If what you are suffering mentally has stabilized itself momentarily or at least is not on an offensive within your being and your mind you can simply not drink until you reach a point where it begins to slip beyond that edge of your ability to cope and manage. Of course, you do become more and more accustomed as your tolerance steadily and inevitably climbs. It takes more and more alcohol to achieve the same affects. It takes more and more alcohol to blunt the storms and voices inside your head and still more to numb the body and still more to blunt the cuts of history. The side effects, by themselves are all horrible. Shakes, shortened tempers, hangovers, appetite problems, light sensitivity, insomnia, deep depressions and apathy, fatigue, wanting to smoke cigarettes constantly, hot flashes, low and acute withdrawals depending on how much you had to do to get to a place where you could finally sleep.
The good news is, on the days and weeks when you don't need to turn the dial at all, nothing horrible happens beyond 24-72 hours of physical withdrawal. The very bad news is the damage is done. Your liver is hardening drink by drink and will eventually fail, your brain is losing its functions even as the psychological scars are faded and erased. If you weren't careful you've probably injured or bruised yourself in some way you didn't notice from the overall body numb and even if you were careful you've probably bruised or injured yourself in some way from the body numb and coordination problems that come with consuming alcohol. The depression will linger well beyond physical withdrawal even if everything else inside your head is muted and been flattened backward so you can finally hear yourself think again and you may wind up drinking just to escape that lingering depression. The packs of smokes you breathed are a part of your lungs forever. You are extending the depth of the foundation of your bodies alcohol dependence in small ways in that it will take at least the last peak dosage to get the effects you need to feel normal the next time your mind begins to crumble and pull itself apart. And, oh yeah, you can overdose and die.
I'm not going to bother with a faith/religion approach. For reasons I've laid out through the years, faith and religion is an enormous vacuum to. As a way to see, cope with, reckon with, understand the world and understand people and oneself, I get its value to some. I'm an atheist. Moving on.
Taking the problem head on, no chemical enhancements with alcohol or pills, is a terrifying proposition, but it could work. I can often easily go one to two weeks without a drink if my spine feels okay and I'm able to get out and play. I don't take prescriptions. Head on, however, there is no where to run and nowhere to hide when your head starts to come apart. The best you can do is try to distract yourself and try to surround yourself with as many safe spaces to sit and do nothing as possible if you can't get outside. You have to be able to position yourself within the larger fabric of life in a way that will insulate you and that presents major problems in itself in that life tends to be pretty damn inflexible. You also have to understand that you cannot control when you will experience a major break and that unpredictability will also cause direct conflict with your ability to plan anything and everything from a phone call to making yourself lunch to being at work; with that in mind, understand that you will not know when the most violent spells will end either.
The great news is there are no prescription side effects or organ destroying alcohol dependencies to fret over that will end your life early. The bad news is there is nothing between you and the teeth of the beast inside your head either. If and when there is a major break down you may end up hurting yourself or someone else far worse than the damage being done by either of the other methods. If you can't find the right person or persons to speak to in order to ground yourself or at least get you outside of yourself, you may self destruct completely and become a suicide statistic. You may lose significant friendships and jobs and intimate relationships because coping may mean that you have to spend days or weeks at a clip alone or heavily insulated and metered to bear with the voices and hallucinations inside you and the swells and shadows of visions. All of the while you will be acutely aware of these collapses and broken connections and psychological scarring, perceived (real or not) judgments and stigma, and that the expectation from the outside in is that you see a professional and "get help" for being yourself. Which kind of strikes the ear a bit strange, no? In your necessary isolated states, in attempts to avoid self destruction and free yourself from the knowledge of the poorer life outcomes, you may resort to far more dangerous chemicals than any mentioned above and/or episodes of extreme alcohol use which will likely also lead to your premature expiry too.
Here's the plan: there isn't one. Here's the funny part: you're not crazy; you are going to die early, it's really only a matter of how. You can take the pills and the side effects until you can't take them anymore or slip up and miss enough of the regimen to come apart at the seams or quit altogether and default to something else that will kill you early. You can incrementally (or quickly) drink yourself to death in an effort to manage and reign in the worst of your symptoms, essentially trading one pretty awful thing for the other. Lastly you can try to live with your symptoms as much as possible and fit in to life where you can until you or life decides you simply cannot. I'm somewhere between option three and option two. The funny thing is cannabis seems to help the most, it's just hard to keep it stocked. I'm working on it. I guess that's the fourth option. I guess there is a fourth option.
After all of this time, I'm still not ready to completely screw with my brain chemistry the way prescriptions will again. Not yet anyway. Not yet. We're not misguided enough to believe that we're fine, no matter how "normal" we feel, but if we can stay between the lines of certain death from liver failure and attendant complications, side effects, and risks in option two and certain death from succumbing to suicidal thoughts, frustrations, and life complications in option three until we can truly try out the full spectrum of what option four has to offer, we may be able to avoid option one altogether.
///Gorillaz - "O Green World"
You pop the medication and wait for weeks to see if anything is going to happen. If nothing happens then you take some more. I guess "pop" is much too flippant. You rearrange all of your life routines to take the prescribed medications and present as stable as possible a body environment to present affects. If, with your new forced sleep patterns and dietary intake, there is no effect then you go back to consult and raise the dosage and wait a few more weeks and on and on until it clicks. Or never completely does. All the while, physical affects may manifest. Weight gains, weight losses, tics, shakes, nausea, fatigue, it varies from prescription to prescription. If it doesn't quite click, a new prescription is introduced to help. You may be weaned off of what you are already taking, you may not. Weeks upon weeks, months, of consultations and examinations and examinations and consultations and dealing with and juggling body changes and it may click. The changes may stick. And that is your new life. X pill at this hour, every single day, without fail, until you stop breathing, because your head will shatter if you stop taking it. In the mean time, enjoy the side effects, which will probably contain an assortment of shadows and echos in the corners of your consciousness that will follow you to your death.
Obviously, not a great answer. If you can't cope with the body changes, you're not going to be able to keep up with any sort of regimen. You're going to take the prescriptions inconsistently and exacerbate the already difficult process of ascertaining what, if any, affects are becoming present in your psychological make up from week to week. If you do manage to make it a few months and falter later down the road and start to slip into an inconsistent pattern of medicating you may be torn apart by the reawakening of whatever it was you are trying to lock away, squash, and overcome. If you do stick with the regimen, that pill is a constant reminder of the incomplete you. The you that is only "complete" if you swallow this spot. And if you can get past all of that and wear and break yourself into this life permanently linked to this pill and make your examinations and deal with the side effects that can be life threatening on their own, you still can and likely will experience periods where it doesn't work anyway.
Sooo we come to drinking. Alcohol. Good old alcohol. I already drink some on and off to manage pain. Between psychological scars and body scars, it kind of gets the job done. It gets the job done well enough, I should say. You don't focus on history and you don't feel the sharpest highs of the pain inside your body and it's easy enough to turn the dial up or down as necessary. If what you are suffering mentally has stabilized itself momentarily or at least is not on an offensive within your being and your mind you can simply not drink until you reach a point where it begins to slip beyond that edge of your ability to cope and manage. Of course, you do become more and more accustomed as your tolerance steadily and inevitably climbs. It takes more and more alcohol to achieve the same affects. It takes more and more alcohol to blunt the storms and voices inside your head and still more to numb the body and still more to blunt the cuts of history. The side effects, by themselves are all horrible. Shakes, shortened tempers, hangovers, appetite problems, light sensitivity, insomnia, deep depressions and apathy, fatigue, wanting to smoke cigarettes constantly, hot flashes, low and acute withdrawals depending on how much you had to do to get to a place where you could finally sleep.
The good news is, on the days and weeks when you don't need to turn the dial at all, nothing horrible happens beyond 24-72 hours of physical withdrawal. The very bad news is the damage is done. Your liver is hardening drink by drink and will eventually fail, your brain is losing its functions even as the psychological scars are faded and erased. If you weren't careful you've probably injured or bruised yourself in some way you didn't notice from the overall body numb and even if you were careful you've probably bruised or injured yourself in some way from the body numb and coordination problems that come with consuming alcohol. The depression will linger well beyond physical withdrawal even if everything else inside your head is muted and been flattened backward so you can finally hear yourself think again and you may wind up drinking just to escape that lingering depression. The packs of smokes you breathed are a part of your lungs forever. You are extending the depth of the foundation of your bodies alcohol dependence in small ways in that it will take at least the last peak dosage to get the effects you need to feel normal the next time your mind begins to crumble and pull itself apart. And, oh yeah, you can overdose and die.
I'm not going to bother with a faith/religion approach. For reasons I've laid out through the years, faith and religion is an enormous vacuum to. As a way to see, cope with, reckon with, understand the world and understand people and oneself, I get its value to some. I'm an atheist. Moving on.
Taking the problem head on, no chemical enhancements with alcohol or pills, is a terrifying proposition, but it could work. I can often easily go one to two weeks without a drink if my spine feels okay and I'm able to get out and play. I don't take prescriptions. Head on, however, there is no where to run and nowhere to hide when your head starts to come apart. The best you can do is try to distract yourself and try to surround yourself with as many safe spaces to sit and do nothing as possible if you can't get outside. You have to be able to position yourself within the larger fabric of life in a way that will insulate you and that presents major problems in itself in that life tends to be pretty damn inflexible. You also have to understand that you cannot control when you will experience a major break and that unpredictability will also cause direct conflict with your ability to plan anything and everything from a phone call to making yourself lunch to being at work; with that in mind, understand that you will not know when the most violent spells will end either.
The great news is there are no prescription side effects or organ destroying alcohol dependencies to fret over that will end your life early. The bad news is there is nothing between you and the teeth of the beast inside your head either. If and when there is a major break down you may end up hurting yourself or someone else far worse than the damage being done by either of the other methods. If you can't find the right person or persons to speak to in order to ground yourself or at least get you outside of yourself, you may self destruct completely and become a suicide statistic. You may lose significant friendships and jobs and intimate relationships because coping may mean that you have to spend days or weeks at a clip alone or heavily insulated and metered to bear with the voices and hallucinations inside you and the swells and shadows of visions. All of the while you will be acutely aware of these collapses and broken connections and psychological scarring, perceived (real or not) judgments and stigma, and that the expectation from the outside in is that you see a professional and "get help" for being yourself. Which kind of strikes the ear a bit strange, no? In your necessary isolated states, in attempts to avoid self destruction and free yourself from the knowledge of the poorer life outcomes, you may resort to far more dangerous chemicals than any mentioned above and/or episodes of extreme alcohol use which will likely also lead to your premature expiry too.
Here's the plan: there isn't one. Here's the funny part: you're not crazy; you are going to die early, it's really only a matter of how. You can take the pills and the side effects until you can't take them anymore or slip up and miss enough of the regimen to come apart at the seams or quit altogether and default to something else that will kill you early. You can incrementally (or quickly) drink yourself to death in an effort to manage and reign in the worst of your symptoms, essentially trading one pretty awful thing for the other. Lastly you can try to live with your symptoms as much as possible and fit in to life where you can until you or life decides you simply cannot. I'm somewhere between option three and option two. The funny thing is cannabis seems to help the most, it's just hard to keep it stocked. I'm working on it. I guess that's the fourth option. I guess there is a fourth option.
After all of this time, I'm still not ready to completely screw with my brain chemistry the way prescriptions will again. Not yet anyway. Not yet. We're not misguided enough to believe that we're fine, no matter how "normal" we feel, but if we can stay between the lines of certain death from liver failure and attendant complications, side effects, and risks in option two and certain death from succumbing to suicidal thoughts, frustrations, and life complications in option three until we can truly try out the full spectrum of what option four has to offer, we may be able to avoid option one altogether.
///Gorillaz - "O Green World"
8/2/17
Over The Last Weeks
What we've learned is that we are not a multi-tipped novelty pen. What each one of us does, all of our others are accountable for.
The pain, torment, rage, and (I am crying waterfalls and I don't want to) absolute hatred, are experienced because of what our others did out of kindness, compassion, sympathy, empathy, love, and understanding...
When I tell you I can't speak about something and then go on to speak about it- it's not a joke a or a hide to try to find something to target you for or insulate myself. There is a cost. There is a very real cost. Often psychological, sometimes physical too.
I am terrified that if I "go into a shell" folks will think I've lost it or something. I am, unfortunately, beholden to wherever my body happens to be and if that means it is in a cage that also means we are too and I cannot be in there with them because they all should not be in there. When we are in there, rebellion is inevitable. What is the only way out? What is the one way they can each live their own? It is not a dual blessing and curse. It is unfortunate.
I am blending in and being as human as possible. As citizen as possible. As reasonable as possible. It hurts tremendously to see that effort fall flat and be exploited by some, it is ecstatic to see that effort be rewarded by some and flower into map expansions and discovery of new ways to exist and new ways that others exist and new planets and star systems and, fuck me, galaxies. It is incredible to feel the weight of the sight of others frittering about on the 400 degree oil of life and ourselves, warming our palms near the electric coils, spreading stories of boogie beasts beyond the 60 watt LED light bulb in the sky because the truth is you have to stick close or you will be left behind. Large enough to fry and small enough in the greater consciousness to slip right through the metal lattice and join the disposable. Faulty.
When you finally get a chance to turn the music off and see pain for what it is. When you don't have to protect other people from what you know you are. Every damaged person worth their weight in time is worth listening to. The songs are the same. The cadence's are similar. The verses are close. There is a world spanning web of sunsets and sunrises and star anthems and moon odes and solar salutations and a disturbingly familiar scent to the blood that breaks away from a palm while you are trying to wash a glass and a reflect on the evenings high-points and the metal gush of the air mixes with the scented soap as it shatters in your hand for reasons you don't understand.
I have been helped by some that there is no way I can repay. Literally, with the expanding fabric of life and space time (I've been over the calculations before) there is no way I can repay them before I or they perish, that is what's up. They offered big and I took only what I needed from what they offered. I don't understand why, attempting again and again to emulate that truth I continue to ... I don't understand ... what am I getting wrong each time? It's not every time, but when it goes poorly, it goes straight to the poor house!
I know I am not entirely sane. I know I can learn fairly quickly.
I know I have to communicate better.
Everything is not okay.
The margin for error is small.
The people that I hold closest know. Because we've been speaking with each other and developing language protocols through literally thousands of interactions.
It is unfair to expect anyone, outside of that set of individuals (not the ones I've met face to face or otherwise, for the longest) to know the language too.
What I've learned to broadcast is not ubiquitous. Thirty two years on planet Earth, and we still have not been able to crack a universal code. I don't mean to cry, but I am in tears that there is so much more work to do looking ahead to remain human. I like it here. I enjoy it because I can be like them and sometimes, when they are willing to play with me, they can be like me too.
I know my schizophrenia is a constantly evolving symbiotic organism (said through thick medication). We understand it. I understand it. You're breaking up!
Please don't leave me!
Kill them all.
Please don't leave- kill them all.
I like to help. Pay it forward. Play when you can. Know us. If we can't play, say so. We are shadows. If you insist on addressing us as a galaxy system to visit, you would be well to address the star inside the nebula and the planet and attendant moon (if necessary) and... or just the comet. You can also call the sign Hobbes. I'm sure he'll answer.
The construction was developed over six years. Before the period of the shatter, layers of designs were gardened to safeguard us. After the period of the shatter, layers of designs were welded together to safeguard you. I'm sure it'll answer.
Crews are at work, thirty four hours a day, reviewing diagrams to build a better future.
One spark at a time.
One death at a time.
LET'S GO!
///There's still a lot of work to do, if we are to survive. We are game, if you are willing to play with us, just know: there are rules.
The pain, torment, rage, and (I am crying waterfalls and I don't want to) absolute hatred, are experienced because of what our others did out of kindness, compassion, sympathy, empathy, love, and understanding...
When I tell you I can't speak about something and then go on to speak about it- it's not a joke a or a hide to try to find something to target you for or insulate myself. There is a cost. There is a very real cost. Often psychological, sometimes physical too.
I am terrified that if I "go into a shell" folks will think I've lost it or something. I am, unfortunately, beholden to wherever my body happens to be and if that means it is in a cage that also means we are too and I cannot be in there with them because they all should not be in there. When we are in there, rebellion is inevitable. What is the only way out? What is the one way they can each live their own? It is not a dual blessing and curse. It is unfortunate.
I am blending in and being as human as possible. As citizen as possible. As reasonable as possible. It hurts tremendously to see that effort fall flat and be exploited by some, it is ecstatic to see that effort be rewarded by some and flower into map expansions and discovery of new ways to exist and new ways that others exist and new planets and star systems and, fuck me, galaxies. It is incredible to feel the weight of the sight of others frittering about on the 400 degree oil of life and ourselves, warming our palms near the electric coils, spreading stories of boogie beasts beyond the 60 watt LED light bulb in the sky because the truth is you have to stick close or you will be left behind. Large enough to fry and small enough in the greater consciousness to slip right through the metal lattice and join the disposable. Faulty.
When you finally get a chance to turn the music off and see pain for what it is. When you don't have to protect other people from what you know you are. Every damaged person worth their weight in time is worth listening to. The songs are the same. The cadence's are similar. The verses are close. There is a world spanning web of sunsets and sunrises and star anthems and moon odes and solar salutations and a disturbingly familiar scent to the blood that breaks away from a palm while you are trying to wash a glass and a reflect on the evenings high-points and the metal gush of the air mixes with the scented soap as it shatters in your hand for reasons you don't understand.
I have been helped by some that there is no way I can repay. Literally, with the expanding fabric of life and space time (I've been over the calculations before) there is no way I can repay them before I or they perish, that is what's up. They offered big and I took only what I needed from what they offered. I don't understand why, attempting again and again to emulate that truth I continue to ... I don't understand ... what am I getting wrong each time? It's not every time, but when it goes poorly, it goes straight to the poor house!
I know I am not entirely sane. I know I can learn fairly quickly.
I know I have to communicate better.
Everything is not okay.
The margin for error is small.
The people that I hold closest know. Because we've been speaking with each other and developing language protocols through literally thousands of interactions.
It is unfair to expect anyone, outside of that set of individuals (not the ones I've met face to face or otherwise, for the longest) to know the language too.
What I've learned to broadcast is not ubiquitous. Thirty two years on planet Earth, and we still have not been able to crack a universal code. I don't mean to cry, but I am in tears that there is so much more work to do looking ahead to remain human. I like it here. I enjoy it because I can be like them and sometimes, when they are willing to play with me, they can be like me too.
I know my schizophrenia is a constantly evolving symbiotic organism (said through thick medication). We understand it. I understand it. You're breaking up!
Please don't leave me!
Kill them all.
Please don't leave- kill them all.
I like to help. Pay it forward. Play when you can. Know us. If we can't play, say so. We are shadows. If you insist on addressing us as a galaxy system to visit, you would be well to address the star inside the nebula and the planet and attendant moon (if necessary) and... or just the comet. You can also call the sign Hobbes. I'm sure he'll answer.
The construction was developed over six years. Before the period of the shatter, layers of designs were gardened to safeguard us. After the period of the shatter, layers of designs were welded together to safeguard you. I'm sure it'll answer.
Crews are at work, thirty four hours a day, reviewing diagrams to build a better future.
One spark at a time.
One death at a time.
LET'S GO!
///There's still a lot of work to do, if we are to survive. We are game, if you are willing to play with us, just know: there are rules.
1/19/17
Another Way
Another way to think about it is in terms of shows.
How many shows are you willing to play? If you play 24 shows in a year, you've done well. If you play 36 shows in one year, it was worth it. If you play 48 shows in one year it was a blast. If you play 50 plus shows in a single year, you've gone above and beyond the call of duty.
If you play 100 and more shows of what makes up the bones of you, you've gone beyond what anybody asked you to do. Everything else is just exploration and
///
How many shows are you willing to play? If you play 24 shows in a year, you've done well. If you play 36 shows in one year, it was worth it. If you play 48 shows in one year it was a blast. If you play 50 plus shows in a single year, you've gone above and beyond the call of duty.
If you play 100 and more shows of what makes up the bones of you, you've gone beyond what anybody asked you to do. Everything else is just exploration and
///
1/14/17
On The Revocation Of Passports
I understand times do change. I understand that I do exist in a space that is not attuned to the normal speeds and distances of the governing dark star at the center of the Milky Way. I understand the difficulties this presents, trickling down to our branch, our neighborhood, our star, our system, our section, our planet, our hemisphere, our continent, our nation, our state, our city, our block, our ship inside that soup (the governance bubble reaching out only that far to offer resistance).
I understand times do change around us and the space in which we exist has a fixed passport system. Once granted entry into the time lapsed/corrupted/flexed/shifted bubble speeding along with the rest of the system around it, the passport will not be revoked. Granted access, you can come and go as you please. There are rules. Those rules can be tailored to you. I will never revoke your passport out of spite. I will never revoke your passport out of anger. I will never revoke your passport because your times have changed. I will never revoke your passport because my time has changed. Once gifted, your passport is set for as long as you live and nontransferable.
We don't give them out like Halloween candy.
If you ever need to borrow a cup of sugar.
If you ever need a box of nails or a snowblower.
If you ever need a lift somewhere.
If I can help, I will. Just ring before you cross the boundary into controlled space and attempt to buzz the flight deck. The weapons net surrounding the ship is live. Don't be converted to light and dust.
///Nightmares On Wax - "Passion"
Do not forget there are rules. Break them enough times and the immune system that keeps the bubble afloat in the interstellar sea will have some very pointed questions for you.
I understand times do change around us and the space in which we exist has a fixed passport system. Once granted entry into the time lapsed/corrupted/flexed/shifted bubble speeding along with the rest of the system around it, the passport will not be revoked. Granted access, you can come and go as you please. There are rules. Those rules can be tailored to you. I will never revoke your passport out of spite. I will never revoke your passport out of anger. I will never revoke your passport because your times have changed. I will never revoke your passport because my time has changed. Once gifted, your passport is set for as long as you live and nontransferable.
We don't give them out like Halloween candy.
If you ever need to borrow a cup of sugar.
If you ever need a box of nails or a snowblower.
If you ever need a lift somewhere.
If I can help, I will. Just ring before you cross the boundary into controlled space and attempt to buzz the flight deck. The weapons net surrounding the ship is live. Don't be converted to light and dust.
///Nightmares On Wax - "Passion"
Do not forget there are rules. Break them enough times and the immune system that keeps the bubble afloat in the interstellar sea will have some very pointed questions for you.
6/10/16
What Makes You Laugh 3
What has been cracking me up over the last few days is a thought problem.
Everyone works to advance themselves in one way or another. What happens when you find yourself in a field you can excel at, but have an Achilles heel for? I am not a negotiator, but the field that I find myself in and doing very well with does not reward merit. It rewards negotiation. You are only worth what people are willing to pay for you. If you would like to price yourself out of their range, you are more than welcome to do so.
The field does not operate in the same ways the rest of the customer service field operates. If you want a job you can have one and if they ask what you would like to be paid you are welcome to write down whatever number you choose and they will come back to you with the starting and only number and you either say "yes" or you say "no." Very simple. Very straightforward. Very easy.
I have been laughing trying to gauge what I am worth to other people. In this field, what you are worth is an algorithm whose nuances run deep, parallel, and cross cut with sudden violence and stark contrast with blood and bone on the line should a miscalculation be made. There is no room for guesswork. Or is it that there is infinite room for guesswork because time is money and time is beholden to whom. For whom does the bell toll these days? For how long can negotiations continue and if you did get what you wanted, when would you feel armored and steeled and learned enough to ask for more? To demand more. Hell, if I know.
Given what I know, where I've been, the way I carry the fire like it is my pants on fire when the client's is, the willingness to tax flesh and artery until the tread falls off to make the date agreed on, I still have no idea what those values register on someone else's Richter scale. I still have no idea what dialing my number means to them when they want something done right, done thorough, and finished to the dotted "I." In terms of valuation, I don't know what I'm worth, but I'm pretty, inexactly, sure I am a cost effective means to whatever ends are summoned.
I am well trained and well versed in many modes. Control is lacking, but only because it is not easy to corral 700 horses in one direction at the same time; we manage. Adaptable, robust, and the commercial ends.
It does crack me up. Folks tell you so-and-so should be paying you "X" amount of dollars. Person "C" should have paid you this-and-that. What is stopping you from paying me what I'm actually worth? I'm not going to say no to money. I'm not going to ask for more. What's stopping you from returning a smile to me the way I gave one to you that you will enjoy much longer than the life span of the paper that passes from my hands to vendors? That is what has made me laugh lately.
You hear the same thing from so many different people and it makes us wonder if my asking for more money will actually change anything in the right direction. You've seen my body of work. You know what I can and cannot yet do. You know what you can ask me to do. I know what I can ask us to do. We are all familiar with one another and are either friends or thoroughly acquainted to a degree that we can rely on one another to follow through on our word. Why don't you trust me yet to do what I say I can do and have done? Why do I have to ask for more?
You've seen me operate enough times. I've worked with you enough times. If you believe I am some sort of benchmark to keep, you are mistaken. I am skewing the market low. What really, what really, cracked me up (because I had no option beyond cackle laughter) was thinking about all of the over paid clowns you rowd and rail about. Wondering why this clown is somehow ten times more efficient, ten times more reliable, 60 times more faithful, five times more communicative, 100 times more driven, and ten times more accessible and somehow.............. somehow.......... worth less to you than the other, menial, infantry clowns you employ.
Grade S infantry? "No, I will settle for grade D and pay them like a scientist apprentice."
Maybe, I'm just not cooperative enough. Eventually the question will boil over and we will have a discussion to resolve points that our sextants align. In the face of heartache, the only option is irrational, hysterical, laughter.
///Stereolab - "The Free Design" live
Everyone works to advance themselves in one way or another. What happens when you find yourself in a field you can excel at, but have an Achilles heel for? I am not a negotiator, but the field that I find myself in and doing very well with does not reward merit. It rewards negotiation. You are only worth what people are willing to pay for you. If you would like to price yourself out of their range, you are more than welcome to do so.
The field does not operate in the same ways the rest of the customer service field operates. If you want a job you can have one and if they ask what you would like to be paid you are welcome to write down whatever number you choose and they will come back to you with the starting and only number and you either say "yes" or you say "no." Very simple. Very straightforward. Very easy.
I have been laughing trying to gauge what I am worth to other people. In this field, what you are worth is an algorithm whose nuances run deep, parallel, and cross cut with sudden violence and stark contrast with blood and bone on the line should a miscalculation be made. There is no room for guesswork. Or is it that there is infinite room for guesswork because time is money and time is beholden to whom. For whom does the bell toll these days? For how long can negotiations continue and if you did get what you wanted, when would you feel armored and steeled and learned enough to ask for more? To demand more. Hell, if I know.
Given what I know, where I've been, the way I carry the fire like it is my pants on fire when the client's is, the willingness to tax flesh and artery until the tread falls off to make the date agreed on, I still have no idea what those values register on someone else's Richter scale. I still have no idea what dialing my number means to them when they want something done right, done thorough, and finished to the dotted "I." In terms of valuation, I don't know what I'm worth, but I'm pretty, inexactly, sure I am a cost effective means to whatever ends are summoned.
I am well trained and well versed in many modes. Control is lacking, but only because it is not easy to corral 700 horses in one direction at the same time; we manage. Adaptable, robust, and the commercial ends.
It does crack me up. Folks tell you so-and-so should be paying you "X" amount of dollars. Person "C" should have paid you this-and-that. What is stopping you from paying me what I'm actually worth? I'm not going to say no to money. I'm not going to ask for more. What's stopping you from returning a smile to me the way I gave one to you that you will enjoy much longer than the life span of the paper that passes from my hands to vendors? That is what has made me laugh lately.
You hear the same thing from so many different people and it makes us wonder if my asking for more money will actually change anything in the right direction. You've seen my body of work. You know what I can and cannot yet do. You know what you can ask me to do. I know what I can ask us to do. We are all familiar with one another and are either friends or thoroughly acquainted to a degree that we can rely on one another to follow through on our word. Why don't you trust me yet to do what I say I can do and have done? Why do I have to ask for more?
You've seen me operate enough times. I've worked with you enough times. If you believe I am some sort of benchmark to keep, you are mistaken. I am skewing the market low. What really, what really, cracked me up (because I had no option beyond cackle laughter) was thinking about all of the over paid clowns you rowd and rail about. Wondering why this clown is somehow ten times more efficient, ten times more reliable, 60 times more faithful, five times more communicative, 100 times more driven, and ten times more accessible and somehow.............. somehow.......... worth less to you than the other, menial, infantry clowns you employ.
Grade S infantry? "No, I will settle for grade D and pay them like a scientist apprentice."
Maybe, I'm just not cooperative enough. Eventually the question will boil over and we will have a discussion to resolve points that our sextants align. In the face of heartache, the only option is irrational, hysterical, laughter.
///Stereolab - "The Free Design" live
10/16/15
Helmet, Armor, Time, Money, Love.
The kind of love that lasts forever.
The kind of love that outlasts explanation.
Yep, that kind.
The inexplicable kind. The kind that cannot be explained by an affinity for a God or the affinity for a person. The everlasting, gut punching kind.
The kind that makes you change your ways even though changing your ways has nothing to do with how you express it, kind of love. The sort that makes you wish you could be a different person. The kind of love that makes your heart break when there are no more words to say what it is you had to say when you had to say it. Hell, the mouth only has so much capability inside of it.
That kind of love.
The kind that changes how and what you do despite the fact that change now has no affect on your outcomes, and you do it anyway.
That kind of love.
The kind that tells you explicitly: SEX IS NOT GOING TO HELP OR HELP FIX THIS. and you do it anyway, because you enjoyed snuffling her private parts and she enjoyed yours, snuffling, just that much. It turns into a private secret box, permanent. Oh, please! Open it up to more! To more! Nope. That's all you will get to know. Forever.
Mind, body, and soul. You are cut off. Wander the waste lands. Find an amalgam. Find a new war to fight. A new fart to sniff. The embassy is closed.
Write songs about love and body parts and knowledge and loss and wars won. Write them to whomever. You'll find your way. Eventually. Eventually, having sex on our grave, I will think about you. And
how I came
to be here.
The kind of love that outlasts explanation.
Yep, that kind.
The inexplicable kind. The kind that cannot be explained by an affinity for a God or the affinity for a person. The everlasting, gut punching kind.
The kind that makes you change your ways even though changing your ways has nothing to do with how you express it, kind of love. The sort that makes you wish you could be a different person. The kind of love that makes your heart break when there are no more words to say what it is you had to say when you had to say it. Hell, the mouth only has so much capability inside of it.
That kind of love.
The kind that changes how and what you do despite the fact that change now has no affect on your outcomes, and you do it anyway.
That kind of love.
The kind that tells you explicitly: SEX IS NOT GOING TO HELP OR HELP FIX THIS. and you do it anyway, because you enjoyed snuffling her private parts and she enjoyed yours, snuffling, just that much. It turns into a private secret box, permanent. Oh, please! Open it up to more! To more! Nope. That's all you will get to know. Forever.
Mind, body, and soul. You are cut off. Wander the waste lands. Find an amalgam. Find a new war to fight. A new fart to sniff. The embassy is closed.
Write songs about love and body parts and knowledge and loss and wars won. Write them to whomever. You'll find your way. Eventually. Eventually, having sex on our grave, I will think about you. And
how I came
to be here.
8/8/14
A Quick Thought on Authenticity and (ffs) Go Protocol
Knowing what you are and what you're not is where it begins, that's the baby step. There's nothing wrong with being a baby. Complaining let's you know, if you've ears for it, that you are not necessarily happy with the way things are or how they're going. Everyone's a baby. At some point. Everyone complains.
The option is to take the turn or drive the motivation straight over the edge and hope you land somewhere nice. Hope you land in something like a pillow factory or a bin of sand, or just anything more forgiving than concrete. Take the turn. Complain like a baby and then adjust. You can take your authenticity to the grave with you or you can exist within it. Sounds pretty simple. It's a bit more complicated, unfortunately. Sometimes you just have to realize that you are striped and a tiger and sometimes imaginary in a pack of lions. Doesn't mean you have to be at war with the lions. You're both after the same things. There's nothing wrong with that. You've honed your way and they've honed theirs and you're on the same field now so you have to learn how to play together effectively that you not step on one another's paws and sink teeth too close together on the same kill.
It's "go protocol." It's trigger pull. It's losing my train of thought and getting heckling from the rest of the committee and continuing to ball because YOURE NOT THE BOSS OF ME YOU @#$%S.
Fight through the noise. Embrace the sound. Love who you want to. It does not matter if they love you back. You have the right to love whomever and whatever you choose to, whomever and whatever you can't refuse to. If they cannot respect that, it's their loss. In a world lessed for loves lost, why waste it? Let it fly. Untenable as it may be, let it fly. Let it fly! Allow it to cross the distance that must be enforced for whatever reasons are reasonable. Include a few that are not.
Remain authentic. Stick to the protocol. You have not lived as long as you have by ignoring protocol. When the Go sign says go, go! Think twice, for sure. "Fo Sho!" does not mean for show. I can put on a fantastic show when I want to. I can put on a show for the fucking ages. Fo sho means for sure and it's pretty much a miniature pact. A handshake and a signature of gumption. With no risk comes no reward and you know what comes without whisk? I do. I'll give you another second to guess. Time's up. Without whisk you get a big old cup of pineapple pulp and undissolved sugar at the bottom of your pitcher of pineapple tea. Gross. Also, really hard to drink.
Obey Go Protocol. Stay authentic. Bow to be courteous, not to fit better. If you win the single combat and fit well, you'll hate them later because they will know what you did. They will talk about the event, if not active, in passing. You will know too.
The combination is not friendly. They are not looking for maps the same way you do. The same way you are. Do not expect assistance when you go. Do not expect support. Do not armor for resistance either. You were invited for a reason. You were on their wing for a reason. That reason may not be for back up should combat come down. That reason may not be for mounting an assault that day. That reason may not be for humor or for "to hell with them"s. You may never know what that reason's reasoning inside their head was, but there was a reason.
So go. Go! Stay authentic. There was something asked of you. Think about what you've asked of them in return by answering the howl. The details will work themselves out, if they do. The details will work themselves out, if they don't pull your card again. Through the noise, through the fire, through the poise, through the ire. For once,
allow yourself to see it their way and do not Chameleon. Do not lock up. For @#$%s sake, remain authentic. Uncertainty is a bitch, be certain of this.
///Girl Talk - (Ask About Me) chapter one... still writing the jacket
The option is to take the turn or drive the motivation straight over the edge and hope you land somewhere nice. Hope you land in something like a pillow factory or a bin of sand, or just anything more forgiving than concrete. Take the turn. Complain like a baby and then adjust. You can take your authenticity to the grave with you or you can exist within it. Sounds pretty simple. It's a bit more complicated, unfortunately. Sometimes you just have to realize that you are striped and a tiger and sometimes imaginary in a pack of lions. Doesn't mean you have to be at war with the lions. You're both after the same things. There's nothing wrong with that. You've honed your way and they've honed theirs and you're on the same field now so you have to learn how to play together effectively that you not step on one another's paws and sink teeth too close together on the same kill.
It's "go protocol." It's trigger pull. It's losing my train of thought and getting heckling from the rest of the committee and continuing to ball because YOURE NOT THE BOSS OF ME YOU @#$%S.
Fight through the noise. Embrace the sound. Love who you want to. It does not matter if they love you back. You have the right to love whomever and whatever you choose to, whomever and whatever you can't refuse to. If they cannot respect that, it's their loss. In a world lessed for loves lost, why waste it? Let it fly. Untenable as it may be, let it fly. Let it fly! Allow it to cross the distance that must be enforced for whatever reasons are reasonable. Include a few that are not.
Remain authentic. Stick to the protocol. You have not lived as long as you have by ignoring protocol. When the Go sign says go, go! Think twice, for sure. "Fo Sho!" does not mean for show. I can put on a fantastic show when I want to. I can put on a show for the fucking ages. Fo sho means for sure and it's pretty much a miniature pact. A handshake and a signature of gumption. With no risk comes no reward and you know what comes without whisk? I do. I'll give you another second to guess. Time's up. Without whisk you get a big old cup of pineapple pulp and undissolved sugar at the bottom of your pitcher of pineapple tea. Gross. Also, really hard to drink.
Obey Go Protocol. Stay authentic. Bow to be courteous, not to fit better. If you win the single combat and fit well, you'll hate them later because they will know what you did. They will talk about the event, if not active, in passing. You will know too.
The combination is not friendly. They are not looking for maps the same way you do. The same way you are. Do not expect assistance when you go. Do not expect support. Do not armor for resistance either. You were invited for a reason. You were on their wing for a reason. That reason may not be for back up should combat come down. That reason may not be for mounting an assault that day. That reason may not be for humor or for "to hell with them"s. You may never know what that reason's reasoning inside their head was, but there was a reason.
So go. Go! Stay authentic. There was something asked of you. Think about what you've asked of them in return by answering the howl. The details will work themselves out, if they do. The details will work themselves out, if they don't pull your card again. Through the noise, through the fire, through the poise, through the ire. For once,
allow yourself to see it their way and do not Chameleon. Do not lock up. For @#$%s sake, remain authentic. Uncertainty is a bitch, be certain of this.
///Girl Talk - (Ask About Me) chapter one... still writing the jacket
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