Existentialist Artist and Drunk Evangelist part 1

Good conversations are at a premium (I was going to add 'these days', but really, when are they ever in abundance?). Throw a bunch of alcohol into the mix (for everyone besides yourself), and you've pretty much shot down your chances at getting any decent discussion started, or sustained.

However, odd characters, and interesting psychological specimens are everywhere. (Even if what makes them interesting is purely ironic, unintentional or mind boggling).

Such is the nature of a recent house party I attended (don't ask me why I was at a house party).

"Why were you at a house party Niko?"

HEY!! What did I just say? Don't make me pull this car over young man!

Before I regurgitate the odd dialogues I eventually found myself in, you need to know one thing: All I want right now is good, intellectual conversations. I literally crave it as if it were laced with nicotine (though, not being a smoker, that sounds disgusting).

I don't really care if the person has the same viewpoint I do, as long as they can carry on a spirited conversation, and are willing to entertain other points of view. (I know you think that I can't listen to other points of view, given my writing style and all, but assure you I'm much more tame and friendly in person).

That being said, let's move back in time to that strange evening at the house party.

I'm never good a large gatherings, but I did my best, as the only girl I knew at the party led me around and introduced me to various people. After meeting most of the young, hip, people in the house (I just assume), an older fellow, probably in his early sixties, with short all-white hair, a large frame (from muscles not fat), and very tanned or just brown skin (it was hard to tell, though he was of some Mexican decent) came around the corner and into the kitchen. I noticed that he was clutching an almost empty beer stein.

He was introduced to me as "[can't remember his name], Anthony's father"; Anthony being the one who owned the townhouse. I shook hands with him (the older guy, not the townhouse), then stayed suspended in mid-handshake as he refused to let me go while he asked me a series of small talk questions.

As a quick aside, I really have a hard time with small talk. It makes me uncomfortable.

"What was your name again?" He asked as his vision tried to catch up to his head's movement.

"Niko" I replied.

"Miko huh?" He confirmed. I smiled to myself, but said nothing.

"What's you last name?" He continued.

To which I told him, while still, strangely, holding his hand.

"What are you, [insert any off-target ethnic sounding region of the world here]?"

"Dutch actually. Some danish." I replied, still trying to make light conversation.

"Oh, really?..." He started, while still keeping my hand firmly in his. "...I've been over there before, it's a great country!"

This is the kind of talk I really don't care for. I feel like I'm always trying to find the most uninteresting thing to say, as it is what is most likely to make the other person feel like I'm playing by the unsaid "rules of polite chit chat".

"I'm sure it is. Never been." I tried to make one of those not-really-funny, but light and conversational jokes. "Land of wooden shoes and cheese I hear."

*cringe* See what I mean?

He stared at me with slight smile, still holding my hand.

"You know a lot of good artists come from over there."

He did not strike me as someone who was into art (not that I really know a Monet from a canvas covered in the soupy vomit of a seizuring retarded child). But at least the topic could go somewhere more profound. Could.

"Yep, that's true" I said (I actually have no idea), testing where he would go with the conversation and trying to find a way out of his strange motionless hand non-shake.

Without missing a beat he plunged into self promotion.

"I'm an artist and a poet. I've done all kinds of big stuff over the years. I've been an artist for 30 years."

Though it may seem odd, since I would consider myself a musician, a writer (lyrics are kind of like poetry right?) and a somewhat artist (mostly graphic design stuff these days, I'm sure my drawing skills would on par with sub par), I really don't like talking with most artists. Those that make bold proclamations of their artistic nature and then apply it to how they see the world... it's just so... irritatingly conceited.

...which is precisely what I do, in my own way.

And yet I hate it. (Always some sort of dichotomy in these blogs lately huh?) Which is why I generally try to hide the fact that I do anything artistic until pretty far down the "getting to know someone" line.

But maybe this guy is actually pretty cool. Maybe he has some interesting perspectives on life and art and people. You never know. They are out there you know.

So...

I tried to find some common ground, (as you do), and admitted (a bit hesitantly), that I too, was a bit of an artist (sort of), though I refrained from any specifics. Little did I know that this one line would change the course of the night and be the entire reason this blog ever happened. So, sorry, in advance.

Once finally released from his episodic grip (which got turned down for a 3rd season, thankfully), I stepped outside on the patio to hang out with the girl that asked me to come down in the first place. After a few wonderfully poignant asides and quips, which have no bearing on this topic (so I won't post them), the older white-haired guy walked out onto the patio, came right next to me and said bluntly, "So let's talk about something. What do you want to talk about?"

Strange way to get a conversation going, I know. But I realized why he did it. You see, he had now singled me out as the other "artist" at the party, and therefore, I must think like he does, or at least similarly.

I knew that from the start, he wanted to wax philosophical about art existentially. He did not say that mind you, but you could tell by his eyebrows (or was it his wrist?).

Since conversation was my goal, and everyone else at this party was just a group of drunk, mid-to-late-20-somethings, the option of a discussion about life and art with a self-proclaimed artist and poet seemed the only potentially amusing choice.

I started with simple questions about his art, like "do you have anything that I can see?" to which the answer was, no.

Well, that's no good. If I can't see his work for myself, can I take his word for how good his art is? (Of course not. It is always a bit too convenient to brag about your great art, or whatever it may be, and not have to have any evidence to support it, eh? Speaking of, take a look at my giant crotch... sans evidence of course).

Then I asked him if he had ever done any commercial art, and he began a short diatribe of how he doesn't like to do that, see, "'cause then it's not art."

Ah yes, what is art indeed. It's actually a wonderful topic, and I have my own thoughts on this (as per usual), but not now. This blog is fucking long.

I will say this though. That whole, "anything commercial is not art"? That was me. Not more then five years ago. I said those same words. And it's still a complicated set of opinions for me.

I was now talking art with my younger, less experienced, more immature self.

It was right about here where he began talking about what makes art good, and where good art comes from.

"I did a lot of drugs back in the day. LSD, heroin, you name it. All those other guys who didn't do any drugs, that's fake art. My art comes from what I see, from my heart."

Unlike all of those other artists whose art comes from Milwaukee.

At this point my heart (mind) sank as my hopes for a grounded, interesting intellectual conversation had been trampled on and squashed (make note of that as it will come up later... plus it's funny). I could see where this guy was going now. I knew it all too well, and to quote Mr. Horse, "No sir, I don't like it."

I've had my fair share of conversations with Artists (yes, that's with a capital "A"). Most of the ones that come out and pronounce themselves as artistic people right off the bat are those that usually just like to mention that they see the world in a strange/different/interesting way, and talk about how unique they are in regards to their perspectives on things.

What really gets me upset about this type of person, is how depressingly similar they are to the person I was years ago. It's almost like I want to physically reach out, grab them, and shake them out of their silly "I'm so cool because I'm an artist" mentality, as if I were shaking those very same ideas out of my older (younger) self.

So what do I say? What do I do? When I see that the option for legitimate rational dialogue has run dry, my only recourse is to find something funny and entertaining in the situation.

So I did.

From that point on I had the mindset of trying to keep him talking for my personal amusement. I'm kind of a secret asshole sometimes. (Secret?).

But I digress, we were discussing drugs. Tell me more!

"When you do LSD and look at the world, you see the truth for what it really is. When you look at that flower you see just the flower, but on LSD, man, you see it as beauty and as connected to everything. It's all connected."

*sigh*

Again, it's so frustrating because I really wanted some good, "deep" conversations. But I have to admit reading it back now, it's really fucking hilarious to me.

Now back to his comment.

So if being on LSD gives you the truth, what does sober reality give you? Lies? Doesn't LSD actually create a false, dream-like reality in the brain where it has difficulty discerning between what is real and what is only in the mind? How is that more real and truthful? No one else can see what you are seeing, and you can't confirm that evidence with an outside, non-biased source. I guess actual reality is not the way to tell what is what.

Write that down.

And by the way, everything is connected, regardless of what drug you are on. I'll prove it, go do a line of coke right now.

Sorry. Continue, Guy-Who-I'm-Now-Fucking-With.

"I look at the world in a different way, when I look at the world I see beauty and truth."

Bam. There it is. I was waiting for that one. And he said it like it was right out of The Oxford Book Of Artist's Cliches.

You know, if he were more sober, and would have actually remembered anything I may have contributed to the conversation, this would have been a good point to ask him to clarify "beauty and truth". Yes, they are poetic and often just a metaphor, but I really think that he was just saying those words to say them. He is, after all, an artist, and those are the kinds of things artists are supposed to say. But does it have any real meaning? Can he define beauty? Truth?

I probably can't. But I'm not the one making the statements.

After a few other observations, he opened up his fictitious book of Indiviualistic-Triteness to chapter two. I was no longer upset or frustrated by his observations, I found them now quite hilarious.

"I don't conform. I'm never going to conform. The world moves this way..."

*He makes a forward spinning motion with his left hand*

"...and sometimes I move with it."

*Both hands do the forward spinning motion*

"But sometimes I go against it..."

*He makes a backward circular motion with his right hand*

Ha ha ha ha... oh man. Damn you are unique! I can tell by the gestures!

What does that even mean, people? It seems to me that he's just really trying to hammer home the fact that he sees himself as a really unique, against-the-grain, non-conformist, to try and impress the fellow "artist". Does that sound about right?

What I found fascinating, and see if you agree with me, was how he sounded more and more like a high school punk or goth kid, whose most important goal in life was to not conform, and thereby, ironically, conforming to a sort of counter-culture in the process. (Yes, sadly, I also used to wax on about the "conformists" in my teen years. Embarrassing to admit). He is that very kid who never grew up.

So now I'm being talked at by a drunk pseudo-artist with the existential and philosophical perspective of an insecure high-school outcast. Oh goody gum drops!

Do you, by chance sir, have some more metaphors dealing with your implied uniqueness?

"When flowers grow and open up," *He cups his hands like a flower* "some don't open, and some open in a different way. I'm like that flower that doesn't grow the same way as the rest of them."

Though I was trying to stay in playful spirits, and secretly poke fun at him, the more he droned on about this, the more it started making me a bit depressed.

Why?

Well, just to go with the empathy card for a second (only a second, I promise), I really started to feel sorry for him. Here he was proving, without a doubt, that he just wanted me to accept him, to think he was really interesting by spouting typical generic "I'm an artist" rhetoric at me, and all I was doing was being condescending and disingenuous, internally mocking his every phrase, idea, and gesture as I stood silently nodding and smiling.

So far, I had contributed absolutely nothing to the one-way conversation, as most of my energy went to coming up with mental one-liners.

To keep things interesting, I decided to play a bit of devil's advocate to his over-indulgence of by-the-book arty-ness and asked him, "So from an evolutionary point of view, being the non-conformist and the strange interesting one - the flower in your scenario that can't open, or grows in a different way - would that odd flower be the one to survive and carry on its genes?"

He thought for a beat, "no, it wouldn't."

OH YEAH! ZING! BURN!! (I said to myself)

He smiled at me, thinking. Then he added, "it's the one that gets trampled, and stepped on." (told you that line would come back).

So Mr. Bond, it's on to the martyrdom of true artistry? Oh the tragedy of the struggling artist! Oh the plight that besets all true beholders and prevailers of beauty and truth!

Yes, there is something to the idea that the genuinely unique ones can be caught in the rip-tide of mediocrity, but I was not in the mood to let him turn around my secret zing and use it as ammo for his unique non-conformist artist-poet mentality.

****************

Tune in next week for the stunning conclusion, where I face a new, much drunker challenge, filled with wacky observations and edge-of-your-seat thrills!

Continued in part 2...




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Tags: art artist cliche philosophy psychology party conform society self perception beauty truth sarcsam humor funny


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DeprecationWear Store Grand Opening!

Hey everybody (all 12 of you). I'm excited to bring to you the grand opening of the DeprecationWear online merchandise store!

WHAT THE FUCK IS IT?

So far, it's a collection of T-shirts and other merchandise with sarcastic, self-deprecating, and elitist sayings and phrases, most of them taken right out of this jolly 'ol blog you follow right here.

They are things that I personally would like to wear, hence I make them, therefore you can* [*see: required by law and forced against your will to] wear them too.

WHY SHOULD I CARE?

Well, aren't we all self-important eh? You should care because by wearing these shirts, everyone will finally know what a pretentious, sarcastic, self-mocking ass you are... without ever having to talk to you to find that out!!

In fact, I'm surprised you've made it this far without a collection of T-shirts that proclaim your ridiculously low self-esteem from the roof tops! (Or from dark, damp alleys where you huddle in tears).

FEEDBACK

Have a dick-ish phrase or line that you like from one of my previous blogs? Want to wear that stupid line on a shirt? Let me know in the comments what I'm missing and if it's good, it just may become a mobile sweat-soaking, billboard of a body covering.

I aim to leave no self-loathing and ironic stone unturned!

I have about 9 different options up at the moment, with plenty more gems in the works. I'll post announcements on here any time I make a new hilarious or depressing piece of clothing.

RECOMMENDED!!

By the way, may I recommend the most bad-ass coffee mug ever? Nothing says 'good morning' like a mug that reminds you of life's inherent awfulness by asking you if it's "Too early for suicide?"

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A Spoonful Of Relationships Will Cure What Ails Ya!

A while back, while at my place of work, I was given an amazing solution for the things that are wrong in my life. I was at the front of the restaurant talking either at, or near another female employee (does the difference really matter?), going on some inevitable rant about how happy, I mean, pissed off I am about this or that.

Upon my "conclusion" (this is actually impossible as I can keep talking about how much things suck until the universe disintegrates), she gave me this profound, yet simple advice, as a cure to what was bothering me.

Ready? Behold:

"You should be in a relationship."

Hmmmm.....I should? But wouldn't that just be a.......wait......Yeah! I should! Genius! Being in a relationship (in general) will indeed make everything better, especially the specific topics I was expounding about earlier! Why did I not think of this before?!

Anything else?

"You would be happier if you were in a relationship."

You know what? Good point. I would!

....... Or maybe you have no fucking idea what you are talking about? Hmmm? Can you at least concede the possibility?

I'm going with option B on this one. Very option B.

MY THEORY, WHICH IS MINE

So what's this whole thing about then? Huh?

Well there Guy McDudington, (or is it Miss Guy McDudington?), this is about our social obsession with being in relationships.

"Wha huh?"

Good question. But to be fair I made you say that since I'm the one typing. (Oh the control!)

Yes, we are obsessed with relationships. We know (because I told you in another blog, remember?) that we all have a strong biological urge to procreate, just like any other animal. But what makes us so different is our conscious desire for love and partnership, outside of the confines of just raising offspring. We want it because we want it.

ONE IS THE MOST UNCOMFORTABLE NUMBER

A relationship of some sort seems to be the goal of almost every one of us.

What is it about being single that so bothers us?

"Nuh uh, man. I'm single and lovin' it! Woooooo!!!!"

Are you? ARE YOU?? Hey, if you are, awesome. Seriously. I've noticed that most people may say something like that, but in reality, they are doing everything they can to rid themselves of the tarnished, leper-like social status that comes with being only yourself.

You could liken being single to having an illness or medical emergency that you need to get treated as fast as possible. Sometimes you are simply waiting for your health insurance to kick in, and sometimes you just use a coat hanger. But almost everyone gets this horrible, detestable thing remedied. *High five*

Being a single person is not really being a single person. It's truly rare to come across a single male or female who is not also actively searching, or at least looking for someone to be with, be it temporarily, or long term. We may not always say it, but it's always on our minds.

Personally, I can go back and forth with the whole single concept. Sometimes I feel most comfortable and content in my extreme isolation and aloneness (since I'm really damn familiar with it), and other times, I'm compelled by the same silly forces that move us all to find someone to share things with. Damn dichotomies!

TELL ME WHY

Back to the example of the idiot girl at work. Okay, okay, sorry about that. That came off as a bit dickish. But really, if you got to know that girl, you'd see what I mean. I've never worked with anyone who has ever irritated me so much by doing so little. Fingernails on a chalkboard. (UPDATE: I just started training a new person who is just as irritating. Hurray for me).

When she gave me her all-inclusive answer to my problems in life, a relationship in general, I raised my eyebrow (I'm good at it), and asked her why that would solve anything.

"You wouldn't be so pessimistic all the time"

Oh really? Just like that, huh? Bullshit. This is my personality. If you think that having a relationship in general is going to magically change my outlook on life in one fell swoop, you are sorely mistaken and don't fully understand the nature of the mind and persona. (I know that you have a degree in cognitive behavioral science, so I'm surprised).

Yes I do agree that there could be (depending upon the specific nature of that person and relationship) some improvement in particular parts of my daily life. I could even concede that I might enjoy two, maybe three more things about existence. (Well, two is more realistic). But it does not suddenly come in, kamikazi style, and change everything about everything. This is not how life works little missy.

There are moments with the right personality compatibiliy that things can be really fun, exciting, great etc. That does not mean that everything else in my life is that way, or should be. It's like comparing the fact that even though I have a health issue that needs corrective surgery (which constantly worries me), I now feel fine because last week's episode of The Office was good. It just doesn't apply to everything.

Also, if you think that lack of a relationship in general is to blame for me being frustrated and upset with day to day trivialities, then again you don't know anything about me, or relationships. (Option B for the win!!)

THE GENERAL!

Quickly, I also found it humorous how generic her prescription was for me.

It wasn't a great relationship, it wasn't a really exciting, passionate relationship, it wasn't the special bond that a man can form with a Galapagos sea turtle.

Oh no.

Just any relationship at all would do me well. The most run-of-the-mill, blasè, pointless relationship would really do me wonders. I see no way in which that idea is retarded. (Except for the obvious).

THE CRUTCH

Being that extreme fear of aloneness is so prevalent with us, I've noticed how much relationships can become a personal crutch for many people (especially you).

My last girlfriend, for instance, had told me many a story about how she left one long term relationship, immediately for another, several times in a row. In fact when I started dating her, she had just broken up, after an emotional six-year relationship, to a moody, thirty-something-child, then tried a quick stint with the boyfriend she was with before him, (which did not cut the mustard... yet again...still. Lessons anyone?). This left her all of a few hours to be fully "single" before she and I began flirting and getting more serious.

I really hate that it seems this way, but most of the women I've known (and some guys too, settle down) have had a similar life path in regards to relationships (yes, again, not all. But most). It's like they are a broke college student, backpacking through Europe, sleeping at youth hostels, and couch-squatting anywhere they can, just to have a roof over their heads. But instead of getting shelter from the cold, or the rain, they are sheltering themselves from their own fear of loneliness, and the opportunity to critically analyze and know themselves.

Continually going from relationship to relationship, in my estimation and experience, leaves little time for personal reflection and growth. In fact, I would go as far as to say that many people only know themselves as a component of another person, instead of the full person they are (or could be) on their own.

YOU COMPLETE ME

Another reason for our almost global obsession with being constantly in a relationship, is an idea that has been drummed into us from an arts and culture front.

Books, plays, movies, music, all talking about how useless and pathetic someone is unless they have another person in their lives. Not only are they useless and pathetic sans other person, they are apparently only half a person.

I'm sure you heard these expressions:

"Incomplete, a yin without a yang, the toast to my jam, the vomiting after a tequila binge."

Such phrases are quite frustrating, as they really go a long way to discourage confidence in independence (and the movie Independence Day).

So, are you half a person? Because if you are you come with a cup of soup.

...Which you don't. (Wait, do you? Mmmmm....soup).

It's all in the mind. If you believe you are forever half a person, without another half-person in your life, then you will be forever half a person.

Last time I checked, one person plus one person was two people, not one.

Enjoy that soup.

JACKIE CHAN IN, WHO AM I?

As I mentioned about my ex-girlfriend, who was a bit of a long-term relationship monger, it was my assessment, after the fact, that she did not have a good, true sense of who she really was anymore. (And before you start yelling at me, I've got a long way to go as well, freely admitted). It had been years since she was last truly alone, and I'm sure, like most people, she had a lot of big events occur in that time period. The kind of events that help to shape us and change us. So who is she now? I don't think she could tell you.

I believe that people who can't find a way to feel good about themselves on their own, have to find it in others, which can spawn attachment issues and co-dependency. If there was anything close to a real life panacea, it would almost certainly have to come from within, from the self, from you (or that temporary relationship you're in now). Others can only fill that void you've neglected to fill with your own ideas, discoveries, truth, creativity etc.

A relationship in general is not a panacea. Nothing is. Nor is just any old relationship always a good thing, in fact, as I've seen many a time, it can be quite a lot more negative than being alone. Drama, depression, jealousy, frustrations, fights, anger, resentment and other such things you would not want to order à la carte, were you dining for one.

THE REAL PRESCRIPTION

The best choice (in my mind, which makes it thereby true) is to learn to become the most developed version of you that you can be. To really start to know yourself is a much more challenging, frightening, yet potentially rewarding venture in the long run.

Now that does not mean avoid people, and never have a relationship (like I do), as they can teach you vast tomes (yes, I said vast tomes, leave me alone) about who you are, how you act, what you want, and what to change about yourself. It's just about where you place the emphasis. Is the focus on you and your (selfish, in a good way) life and aspirations? Or is it about the quick emotional fix, and/or avoiding being alone?

Be choosy, be particular, and don't be afraid of being by yourself for a while. Easier said than done, I know. If you want to feel better about yourself and your life, do something that directly affects you and your (personal) life. Go to school, start a new career path, learn an instrument, study history, travel abroad, or better yet, write a bunch of blogs that hardly anyone reads. Yeah that will solve everything!



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Tags: love relationships date dating alone lonely loneliness single society social psychology cure all panacea

I Resent Your Happiness

It's strange sometimes, the stuff I dredge up out of my own self observations. In the last year I've thought  more intensely and significantly about myself, and existence in general, then at any point in my previous years.

One of many observations I've come to is that, apparently, I really don't seem to like happiness, or happy people. In what I could only consider some form of self sabotage, I seem to resent, dislike, and think lowly of very happy people.

What kind of a way is this to go through life? To chastise those who act joyful and positive, and seek out experiences where I continue to dwell in the Pit Of Despair?

THE MAN IN THE MIRROR

Have I really become this bitter, this unpleasant? I can recall that when I first made the observation that I did indeed resent other's happiness, it was accompanied with a sort of "oh, how Niko" sort of feeling. It was interesting, odd, and above all, one of those almost traditional perspectives of the caricature I've become as of late.

"Of course I hate people who are happy. Its cool, hip, chic, in a kind of rebellious anti-hero sort of way. Everyone loves Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club right?"

But now it just feels plain sad. Really, honestly sad. When did I become such a overly bitter, spiteful, and vitriolic person? Sure, I've never been the optimist, that's true, and I sure have had my share of moodiness, and negativity, but this? Hating anyone who seems happy, or content? It's the sign of a truly broken person, my friends.

WE HAVE A PROBLEM

I think I can realize that something is not quite right when the sight of happiness no longer just makes me angry, it begins to disgust me. I'm being serious here, and not just for dramatic effect.

The sight or sound of people being all sorts of stupid-happy has begun to disgust me to the core. Young couples kissing and being affectionate disgusts me; A group of really close friends hugging and smiling after meeting up at a restaurant disgusts me; Families that span generations, grandparents, parents, young kids, all being together for a family dinner disgusts me; Newlyweds with their infants in tow, starting a brand new life together, wait for it..........disgusts me.

Just on the way into my apartment to begin writing this blog, I encountered a group of my fellow housemates sitting on the porch. One housemate's sister is staying out here for the summer, and wouldn't you know it, her boyfriend has come out to visit her too! How sweet. I hope I get to see them all cuddled up on the porch. . . NOOOO!! That was sarcasm!! SARCASM!!! Yes, seeing that little, pleasant nicety of the two young lovers being together on the porch, just so happy to each other again enraged me.  I tried not to look as I rolled my eyes and scoffed to myself up the stairs to my apartment.

Moral: I'm fun to be around!

THE GREENER GRASS

I can remember two events, one general, one specific, in which I know that I was this strange, so-called, "happy".

The general being my pre-puberty years. I can recall, fairly well, my almost optimistic viewpoint of the world around me, the sky was always such a striking blue, the grass so soft and cool on my feet, and all possibilities were endless, and achievable.

Sure there were times when I was made fun of at elementary school, or I got into trouble with my parents for doing something childish, but for the most part, at least in my mind and emotion, I was fairly positive about life. More often then not, I was in good spirits, and enjoyed most of what life offered me. At least that's how I remember it, but it's possible my parents may have a different perspective.

As soon as my psyche began to develop in a more serious way, during that dramatic change into adulthood, my emotions took a much stronger role in my life (as they do), shaping my eventual pessimism, bitterness, and semi-founded social-outcast elitist bullshit. (I should put that on a dating profile, girls love that kind of stuff).

The other, more specific event in which I experienced the other side of the crushing dead-weight of life, was during the beginning of my last relationship. As I've already gone into too much depth about, I used to, even years ago, be irritated by really passionate couples, who would constantly touch, and hug, and kiss, and stare at each other ad nauseam.

But wouldn't you know it, I found myself on the other side of the table for one sweet moment in time, and I loved every second of it. Yes, me. She and I would sit at the bar, just staring into each other's eyes, smiling uncontrollably and giggling like children for 15 to 20 minutes at a time. And yes, there was plenty of kissing and sexually-based shenanigans as well. We were, for a time, the poster couple for the most sickeningly sugary displays of public affection that that circle of people had ever known. We got to disgust a few close friends of hers in particular, with just how cutesy and cuddly we were. It was great.

I really do miss that moment in time, as hypocritical as it is.

REASONS AGAINST HAPPINESS

Could there be any legitimate reasons against happiness? Well, you are reading the King Of Deprecation are you not?

To go more in detail from a notion from a previous blog, "72 Degrees in the head, All the time", people who are overly happy, as I see it, are either denying reality, or have not experienced life enough. It always feels like something is just off, when everything is so great, positive and rose-colored.

In actuality, life is challenging, life is cruel, life is difficult, and to ignore all its sludge, is to live in a purposeful delusion, a semi-waking life, a half reality. Sure there are some great things to experience here, while you are conscious, but it's not without its struggle and strife.

I do have another big reason that I downgrade happy people, for less-purely-arbitrary, emotionally-based reactionary reasons. I do, quite clearly, see a strong connection between a strong sense of self-awareness, and a decent amount of pain.

More in depth, I see correlation between people with strong, well-defined, interesting personalities, and, yes again, pain. I've noticed, that people who have experienced, and dealt with a lot of life pain, usually are the much more stand-out humans, those with greater wisdom, wit, humor and passion. Needles to say I like these people, even if I don't encounter them often enough.

Overall, I like happiness for grounded, earned reasons. Not just being happy for the sake of being happy.

THE CORE OF IT ALL

When it all comes down to it, why, would you say, that such displays of happiness would affect me so profoundly, and bother me so thoroughly?

I'm sure it's obvious, and it's something I freely acknowledge.

I'm jealous.

I see something that I want, something others have (perhaps), and I don't. I've tasted it before, and now I know the difference. I want to feel what they feel.

What scares me, well, also frustrates and depresses me (great combo), is the idea that maybe I'm just like that. Maybe I'll never feel the way that they feel. Or, more accurately, the way I assume these people feel. Maybe I am incapable of being happy and content. Literally incapable.

On second thought, I have had those few moments in my past to prove that statement wrong. But still, with those moments so few and far between for me, it sure feels like I'll never come across them again.

Even after knowing that most of what I feel is based on jealousy and my own inability to appreciate anything, it doesn't deter me from hating the idea that someone may be reading this blog with their significant other, happy as can be, unable to relate to bleakness and disgust with which I view the world, further setting me apart from the happiness status quo.

Have I mentioned that I'm fun to be around?


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Tags: emotion happy happiness hate disgust jealousy psychology philosophy

In Defense Of Selfishness

I generally have a tendency to take traditionally positive words, phrases and ideas and try to show how they can have a negative connotation, usually something just under the surface. Freely admitted, I get my 'exclusivity kick' from feeling like I am only one of the few who sees certain concepts and words in a different light.

Well, instead of taking something nice and wiping my ass with it (in a fun, sarcastic, and mentally stimulating way), I'm going to do the opposite. It's time for me to redeem a fundamental concept that has gotten sullied in its common usage, and give it a successful rebranding campaign. (Just like how insurance genius' AIG rebranded themselves as the new, totally different AIU!! Wow, now I totally trust them with my money again! HERE!!! HAVE IT!!!!!).

As per the title of the blog, you know I'm referring to the concept of selfishness.

SLANDERED IN BUTTER

How often have you heard the following, as used in a derogatory tone of voice?

"Oh, [insert name here]. She's so selfish!"

Or. . .

"All he does is think about himself. I hate selfish people."

You've heard it countless times right? I'm sure you've even said something similar yourself, haven't you? C'mon, I know you have. I'll bet you just hate it when people just think about themselves all the time, eh? The selfish bastards! Let's get 'em!! (. . . a pony).

Yes, selfishness. "Ol' Slandery" they call it. Can you recall a time (be specific to the minute) that you've heard the word selfish not used as an insult or an negative quality? Hurry up, time is money (not to mention fleeting, and "a' changin' ").

You can't do it can you?

You can't do it because most of us have taken the word in its social pejorative meaning for granted, most likely putting it in league with terms like "Childish" (as opposed to child like) and Fecal Raper (of which the origin is surprisingly quaint and demure).

With this common view of the apparent awfulness of selfishness, and therefore the quality of thinking about one's self first and foremost, how could I possibly redeem such a concept?

Nevermind, I don't feel like it anymore. Goodnight. End of Blog.

HUMAN NATURE. NOW WITH LESS TRANS FATS!

Let's make this as easy as possible. Probably because it is. (How was that for condescension?)

Selfishness is. . . .*drumroll*. . . human nature.

It is at the very core of who you are, embedded at the most primitive sectors of our brains. Does that alone justify it? Fuckin' A!! No. Just because something is part of you does not make it good or bad. Selfishness, at its heart, is simply the act of putting yourself as first priority. Basically, it is the basis of our own survival, the ability to look out for one's self, and ensure one's own lineage. Without the ability of being selfish, we would not be here today, as we would have all died off thousands upon thousands of years ago, continuously and irritatingly asking everyone else around them how they are feeling, and if they are sure they are okay, while being slowly devoured by a pack of angry, frothing timber wolves.

It's absolutely natural, right on par with consuming oxygen, and when exercised within reason, is perfectly acceptable and normal. Not everyone will agree mind you, but I do, and I'm the one writing this essay, hence I matter more.

Understanding the inherent concept of selfishness as a natural, neither good nor bad mechanism, is essential if you're the kind of person who enjoys not feeling guilty about things that are built deep into your perception, behavior, and priorities. "Oh shit I'm breathing again! I'm going to chastise myself as I drown my guilt in a gallon of Ben & Jerry's! Oh shit, now I'm eating too!!"

ONE SIMPLE QUESTION

So we've talked about selfishness being an evolutionary survival mechanism, which is all hunky dory, but that's only the natural history of why selfishness can be redeemed in the modern understanding. Let's get some more personal, nay, selfish reasons.

One obvious, and rhetorical question I find my self asking people quite often, when on one of my mutli-hour tirades about selfishness, is the following:

"Who is the only person that you are your entire life?"

On the surface it seems like a silly question to ask. The answer is face-palmingly redundant, yet it begins to make my point.

All you can, and will ever be for all of your existence is yourself. Do you agree? Then does it not make sense to do things that benefit the self? To put yourself (remember that means you) first? How is that bad again?

THE PEACE CORPS

This has to be one of my favorite examples of the concept of selfishness in action.

I overheard a conversation between my sister and her friend as they sat smoking cigarettes on the deck one starry evening.

Quoth the friend:

"My roommate tried to tell me that what I want to do is selfish. I was like, 'no way', cause I want to go into the peace corps, so I can help people all over the world. How is that selfish?"

Oh little one, how naive and unaware you are. But how ripe you are with self-perception gold!

Our first indicator that her interests are selfish is in her language. Specifically the use of the word "I". "I want to do this. . .", "I want to help so and so". It comes down to what she wants for herself, less so what the effect of her actions on others will be. Language is a wonderful giveaway to our desires, even if we, ourselves, are unaware of what we truly want and why.

Let me give you a scenario. Now give me one. Good, I enjoyed our little exchange. Now let's get back to mine for a second since it is better than yours. Agreed?

Pretend that the entirely non-selfish thing that you like to do is give money to homeless people. You feel that you are helping out those in need, doing your part for a better world etc. That can't possibly be selfish can it?

Well now let's pretend that every time you give any money to someone in need, as in the homeless, you were instantly overcome with paralyzing pain throughout your entire body. Would you still continue to be so charitable?

ALTRUISM

"But what about altruism? What about people performing selfless acts?"

Well, Fictitious Amalgam For Reactionary Purposes, after what I've said so far, you still feel that the concept of altruism makes a lot of sense in the practical world? Are you waiting patiently inside an easily-burstable bubble? Well then. . .

No, altruism is simply another word in the dictionary that adheres to our wants and emotional desires like love or dingleberry. Boy, it sure would be nice if people were completely selfless, right? Nice? Ridiculous.

Selflessness, and therefore altruism are entirely unnatural concepts, and more importantly, literally impossible. It is counter to human nature to be able to not include yourself, or your personal well being into your thoughts about others. All that we do is follow our selfish base desires which stem from our irrational emotions (see: The Feel Good Fix). Yes folks, everything and anything we think, do or say is only done because of how it will make us feel, selfishly.

YOU'RE STILL SELFISH!

To say that selfishness is always fine and good would be a gross reverse generalization on my part (which you probably expect from me by now). However, to be fair (me?), it can indeed cross a line where it goes back to the standby version you all know and love. When someone's selfish behavior directly causes someone else harm, it can indeed be negative (unless the harm caused is extremely humorous, then it's justified).

Realizing that everything you do is inherently selfish may make you feel uncomfortable or unhappy at first (like the way I feel most of the time), which is to be expected, as we have to unlearn the prevailing ideas regarding selfishness as an entirely negative concept. But over time, I think it may actually benefit you to know that looking out for yourself does not actually make you a dick. The fact that you are a rude, inconsiderate, pretentious moron makes you a dick. Dick.



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Tags: selfish selfishness selfless altruism altruist sarcasm human nature redeeming philosphoshy psychology awareness humor

Too Early For Suicide?

Seriously, look at your watch. How often does suicide cross your mind dear friends? ("Elk" friends would make no sense). My guess is that it would not be often, but, I'd also wager that it might be a bit more then one would typically guess.

Would it be out of line to venture that your suicide fantasies might be on par with The Christmas Story's young protagonist Ralphie, when he envisioned himself going blind later in life, rightfully making his parents grief-stricken and regretful for sending him to his room and washing his mouth out with soap all those years ago?

I'm sure we've all thought how our own death would devastate a family member or an ex lover, though, sadly, we would not be conscious to enjoy it (as far as we know). Yes, friends, I've been through this, "I'll make you sorry", line of thought since I was a youngster, but this whole phase is new, and unfortunately more serious.

I've thought calmly, and with disquieting frequency, about ending my life in the last year. Thoughts that have gnawed at me with greater and greater tenacity as time moves on. This time they are not because my Dad gave me a spanking, or the girl at school I had a crush on likes another boy.

ME VS. LIFE

For the longest time (by Billy Joel), what has somehow kept me from really wallowing in the notion of killing myself at any time and place was a viewpoint I held, in which I was facing off against the personification of existence itself, and were I to just give up and end it all, life would win. I would have willingly admitted, for all to see and interpret, that I was too weak or unable to solve my own problems in life. I couldn't cut it, I failed, I gave up. Literally, life would have gotten the better of me.

Just like the poor loser in sports games from childhood, the kid who found himself on the short end of the stick, and did not have the sportsmanship (yes, I'm citing sports), the good humor, or the willingness to try harder, decides to dramatically quit mid-game out of frustration, making sure to call plenty of attention to himself, and how "unfair" or "unfun" the game has become. In reality, no one likes this kid. He is a poor participant, immature and childish.

I don't want to be this kid, and for years, the idea of becoming that kid has stopped me from doing the dramatic version of leaving the sports game when things aren't going my way. And oh, how they aren't. Oh.

And I'm not alone (well, I am, but you know what I meant). My own sister, who by all accounts is an extremely intellectual, witty, creative, aware, and humorous female, is also feeling this way. What would cause such an intelligent person, who obviously has a lot of great traits and talents, a person that could do something wonderful in this world, to become so disillusioned, faint, and filled with despair? And if both my sister and I suffer from this, could there be something related, perhaps something genetic? Or are we both simply victims of an overactive mind?

THE STATE OF THE UNION

At this point A) you're still reading, and B) you may be saying, "Things can't really be that bad, Niko," or, "You're just being overly dramatic," or even, "What a douche. Go cry to your fucking mom you pathetic child," which I do by the way. Often. Except replace the mom with a dead cat, and replace the dead cat with the memory of the dead cat, and then you got it about right.

As I often lament, and mostly from an exaggerated point of view, that I literally (figuratively) have nothing. Literally. (Figuratively).

Thats just how I feel. To me, and let me state that I'm quite good at taking things for granted, my current existence is all for naught. Dramatic? Sure. Emotionally accurate (notice the word 'emotionally' to qualify the accurate)? It sure feels that way.

2008 was, and so far still is the worst year of my life to date, but things have not really brightened up much since. I still struggle in almost every facet a person can struggle in: mentally, emotionally, physically, financially. Not spiritually though, since there is no such thing as spirit (beyond the one Nirvana smelled).

To keep things a bit more general, one of the biggest deficiencies in my life is the lack of anything even the least bit enjoyable, and positive. In a nutshell (why one would be in one of those I'll never know), I have absolutely nothing to look forward to. Seriously. Not a god damned thing. And that, my "friends", really sucks.

HAPPY LITTLE TREES

Let me paint you a lovely Bob Ross-esque panorama of my existential bitterness (you can't resell it though). Last time, we created a beautiful lake in the foreground, painted in vibrant Inability To Accomplish Your Goals, surrounded by a leafy deciduous forest, consisting of a delicate blend of Guilt For Not Accomplishing Enough and No Solace From Pressure And Obligation. See how the light dances over those highlights?

Next take your number 2 brush, and let's load it with a bit of Overly Negative Self Image and Cavernous Insecurities and lets paint in a big mountain. Your mountain can live anywhere you'd like it to. There we go. That looks nice and insurmountable.

And lastly for the sky, since we already put down a layer of Desperate Need To Be Appreciated And Loved, which I had already mixed ahead of time with plenty of Inability To Assimilate Into Common Social Environments, just to help the paint stick to the canvas.

To this we'll put the last metaphorical touches on our painting, namely the light fluffy clouds that represent any and all worthwhile moments of existence that help pad the onslaught of dreary, bleak and and life de-firming bile that makes up the majority of the waking hours. No need to paint the bile, I think it can be inferred from the fluffy white clouds that are quickly drifting away on the breeze from the nearby dog food factory, never to be seen again.

EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT

Do you know what does not help? Throwing me shallow cultural proverbs designed to lift the spirits (by 'lift the spirits' I mean a way for you to say something without getting personal, and make yourself feel better).

"Well, sorry to hear that, but don't worry, things are going to be alright."

Really? You know this. . . how? An amazing gift to see into the fourth dimension and view the outcome of future events? WOW!!

Don't ever tell me that things are going to be okay. Fuck, that pisses me off.

You have no idea how 'things' are going to be for me, and to simply say something just because it sounds pleasant, and has no grounded, factual basis, only helps to add to my bleakness and depression by making me enraged as well. Bullshit does not comfort me. It solves nothing beyond you feeling somehow better that you said something. Void, and empty of genuine examination and solution of the problem(s) at hand, but still something.

Never say that to me again.

THE PEANUT BUTTER SOLUTION

If there is a solution to this abyss of apathetic dissipation, I've not found it yet. I have trouble getting beyond the simple assessment of how much I don't enjoy living. I'm beginning to see that I seem to like piling all of my frustrations and problems into one lump sum, making them unwieldy and overwhelming.

Viewing the awful representational conglomerate from a distance it can often look rather silly. Yet it does not change the fact that I am extremely unhappy with damn near everything and anything. Being the pleasure-based creatures we are today, why would I want to continue an existence that was starkly absent of any bit of pleasure? What would be the incentive for me to "keep on keepin' on"? Hope? Hope for what? Don't get me started. Or actually, do get me started, but not until another blog.

With nothing to look forward to (my biased, subjective outlook of course), no respite from my own depression, strange guilt, internal and external frustration, loneliness and failure, I truly find it challenging to come up with a list of reasons for perpetuating what feels like mental and emotional molestation. And in my version, no one buys me a toy afterwards to keep me quiet.

We all deal with shit, and none of us are always happy, nor should we be. For all I know everything I feel could be a product of my built-in neural chemistry, by which I mean a "programmed" response. Something out of my control. Does that help to make it any better? Fuck no. The things I have to offer the world, no one seems to want, and the things the world tries to offer me I am violently allergic to. I believe this is what the proud Lakota Sioux call a "good trade".

EVERY LITTLE STEP (L.A. REID/BABYFACE)

Honestly people, this is not a cry for help, just an airing of my emotional laundry (which reminds me, I need to do my physical laundry. All of my socks are becoming potent enough to be used in the chamber on death row. Not the most humane way to go, I can attest).

I still don't want to be the childish kid that leaves the game early, then makes up excuses as to why they never wanted to play in the first place. (Hasn't this whole blog been a list of excuses?).

Obviously, the problem(s) lies with me, not the outside world. The only way I can rid myself of this excruciating spinning-kiddy-ride (as I've tried holding up two fingers for quite some time now) is to stop looking at everything as the fully assembled Voltron mega warrior, but instead as each individual robot cat. As much as I love viewing the collective garbage heap of my life, progress can only be made by removing each soiled diaper and used condom individually.

Of course I'm probably just being dramatic and emotional about what is essentially a miniscule blemish on my otherwise pristine, super-privilaged rip-roaring existence.

By my clock it's barely even lunch time. Too early for suicide?



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Tags: suicide commit death die dying life exist existence psychology philosophy sarcasm

You Should Meet My Friend Niko.

"Hey there you!"

"Hey!"

*hugs*

"It's great to see you again! You look great!"

"Yeah you too! It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long. Let's sit down and grab a drink. Have you been here before?"

"No, I like it though. Looks nice."

"I like it a lot. Nice atmosphere you know? Oh! You should try this one, it's awesome." *Points to drink menu*

"Sounds good. I'll give it a try."

"So what have you been up to since I saw you last?"

"Wow. All kinds of stuff. I've been pretty busy for sure."

"Are you and. . . what's his name. . . still together . . "

". . . no. We broke up a while ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know."

"It's okay. It's probably for the best. I've actually tried to go on a few dates here and there, but so far nothing worthwhile."

"You know, I have a friend that's single, very interesting guy. You might like him."

"Oh? Who?"

"This guy named Niko. He's a musician."

"Hmmm. I don't know about the musician thing, but what's he like?"

"Well, he's kind of an odd guy really. He's kinda hard to describe."

"What do you mean odd? What does he do that's odd?"

"In regards to relationships, he doesn't really date much. He says he has a lot of weird issues about sex and love. I'm not really sure what that's all about but he made a big deal about it."

"He's got relationship issues? I don't know. . . Well, I guess, to be fair, we all have our issues. Is that all that makes him odd? He doesn't date much, or has issues about relationships? That doesn't seem that odd."

"Well no, he also acts very pretentious, you know, like he's smarter, better, and more talented than everyone else."

"That doesn't sound very good."

"Nope. Not really. He's kind of an elitist. If you don't know certain things, or topics he instantly thinks less of you and acts very dismissive and condescending."

"He sounds like an ass."

"He sure can be. He's not always an ass though. Sometimes he's really insecure about nearly everything about himself, and spends hours pacing around his small apartment dwelling on everything that is wrong with him. I guess you could call him a bit of a pessimist"

"So he's a bunch of fun then?!" *laughs*

"Ha ha ha. He can be a real downer at times. Really bitter and sarcastic. Niko's like an angry, jaded old man who hates most things."

"And you're trying to set me up with this guy?"

"Well, I guess, yeah. I mean, he's not all bad. He's really passionate about music. He's written some interesting things over the years. Well, assuming you like that kind of stuff."

"What do you mean "that kind of stuff"? You don't like his music?"

"Well, I like a few things here and there, but his new stuff is really, well, just like he is. Pretentious, and overly complex."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that. . ."

"Totally. It's the kind of music that makes you feel dumb for not knowing music theory or whatever."

"Great. So he's an ass who thinks a lot of his music that only college people would get, and he's also a bitter angry downer? Where do I sign up?!" *laughter*

"Ha ha ha! Pretty much, pretty much. I mean, well, he's actually a really intelligent guy though. But the more I think about it, it actually kinda sucks because he makes you feel stupid every time you pronounce a word wrong, or are not familiar with an outdated cultural reference."

"I just have to ask. What does this guy do for fun?" *giggles*

"Honestly, I have no idea. I think he just sits around at his apartment reading philosophy books or yelling at Youtube videos or something. Come to think of it, I don't think he really leaves his place much. He's like an introverted hermit type of guy. I don't think he likes people very much."

"You can stop selling me on this guy now. I really don't want to meet him. He sounds like everything I would not want in a guy, or at least the bad sides of things I may want. Are you sure this guy is real? It sounds like a character from a bad movie or something!"

"Oh he's real. I just talked to him the other day about how much he resents other people's happiness, or something like that. Then he talked my ear off about how anyone who believes in anything remotely spiritual or metaphysical are deluded and completely ignorant. Seriously! He went on and on about how much he hated religion, belief and faith. Needless to say I don't talk to him that much!"

"Heh heh heh! Man, I really don't like people who are like that. They are always trying to point out everyone's flaws and basically ruin everyone else's happiness. I bet he has no sense of humor."

"Strangely enough, he actually does, and when he's not making obscure references to things I've never heard of, or really offensive jokes about inappropriate subjects, he can be pretty funny."

"That was almost the first good thing you said about him. Minus the offensive humor or overly intellectual stuff. Damn. What a weird sounding guy. Now I almost want to meet him now, just to see if this is really true. Not to date him, mind you."

"Yeah, I guess I don't blame you. Heh heh heh. After talking about him, I realize he does seem like a pretty awkward and sad human being. So what did we come up with so far? He's arrogant and elitist, he writes pretentious and complicated music that no one else would understand. . ."

"Heh probably because he desperately wants to impress people."

"Ha, yeah, probably. That makes sense. So he's also really insecure about himself, and dwells on everything that sucks in his life, he's angry and bitter like an old man, he hates spirituality and religion, which, of course, is always a very inviting quality." *laughs*

" He's not a people person, he never goes outside of his dark cave, he's got weird issues with relationships and sex, and he's apparently offensive or obscure with his humor, which really, is just another way for him to act like an elitist I guess."

"Good point. Man, I guess he really has some serious psychological issues huh?"

"I'd say so, yeah. I almost feel sorry for him, the way you describe him. He sounds so pathetic and lonely. All this stuff about him acting overly intellectual and stuff, it sounds like he needs to impress everyone, or feel superior."

"Did I mention he barely has any money?!"

"Ha ha ha, please stop! I don't think this can get any better! Ha ha. . ."

"Well then. Pretend I never said anything about him! Ha ha ha. I think I might know someone else who you might actually want to date."

"As long as he's nothing like that guy! He he he he. So, are you feeling hungry at all?"




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Tags: humor self+deprecating terrible human being pathetic elitist pretentious awful