Eulogy For A Lost Companion

It's interesting how a death can put so much in perspective. It seems almost designed for personal reflection, and the digging up of old memories. Even more interesting, is that these same results can come by one who is not even human, in my case, my cat of fifteen years.

Writing this, I am still in emotional ebb and flow, as no more then an hour ago (at the time of this very sentence), I had my long time companion put down, returning her to the unconscious from which all consciousness most likely came.

Fifteen years is quite the chunk of change. That is more then half of my entire life-span spent with my tolerant, semi-compassionate friend. Not only was that the majority of my life, but also the most tumultuous, experiential, and impactful times, as she joined my life right at the onset of the dramatic teenage years, and the physiological changes experienced during puberty.

I can still remember the day she was born. I was there at the very moment she first opened her eyes. Damn, I sound like a parent recalling a child's early years after they have grown up and left the nest. And she has left the nest, but also the tree the nest was in.

Is it at all strange to create such strong bonds with creatures who cannot directly communicate with or understand us? Many of us feel very attached to our little pets, some going a bit overboard trying to dress them in people clothes and whatnot. Could it be the natural instinct for nurturing? We have a being that elicits affection from us, as they resemble the same sort of youthful innocence we see in our own offspring. It could make some sense that the same visual cues that make our brains feel connected to our kin, could work for that of another species.

Hobbes was always a sweet girl. Never fussy or quick to anger. Honestly one of the most passive and tolerant cats I had ever known, though for whatever reason she never seemed to like my head being right next to hears, as she would lean back away from you if you attempted such a rash move. Later we called this the "heads near heads" theory, which she was obviously not a fan of. She was also quite the little huntress in her prime, catching all manners of small mountain animals from birds mice and chipmunks, to rabbits, and even the odd hummingbird (which shows her skill quite adeptly I'd say). I can't even count the times I had woken up in the morning and opened my door, only to find a pile of feathers and unidentifiable leftovers from her morning kill. A gift, I'd think to myself. Then came the fun of the cleaning and scrubbing of the blood out of the carpet.

She slept with me every night that I was home. When she was young, I'd go find her before I went to bed, as the mere presence of her on the bed was somehow soothing and seemed to help me fall asleep. Later in life, she would instinctually know when I was about to "hit the ol' hay", and soon, there she was, scratching at my bedroom door, or, most often, waiting on the bed for me. I'm sure there is nothing out of the ordinary about that, but it doesn't change the fact that I appreciated it, and felt we had some sort of trans-species rapport.

Her downfall came about five years ago, when she came in from her usual romp outside, but this time, dragging her right hind leg behind her. To this day I still don't know what could have happened to her, as she was pretty used to climbing trees and mountains. I soon took her to the vet to have surgery performed to reset her broken leg. The recovery was a sorry sight. Hobbes with a big stiff cast on her leg, her maneuverability piss poor (as they say). I converted my bed into a simple mattress on the floor during this time, just for her, so she could lay with me. During this time, she developed the unpleasant habit of urinating on any piece of clothing that touched the floor more more then a few seconds. This could be my fault for not being so expedient with cleaning her overstocked litter box, or she could have found a new creative outlet playing connect four with her natural ammonia.

The last few years for Hobbes have been a bit challenging for her. The leg that we spent decent money on to fix, never seemed to have healed properly, resulting in a silly looking (and I'm sure irritating) kind of limp. She could get still around, but no more jumping to or from high places anymore. She still was able to jump on the bed and lay with me at night, and I still appreciated having companionship, especially when I was not doing so well with the complicated human version of the same situation.

Her last few months she took on the guise of an invalid patient at a long term care facility. She needed my attention more then ever, needing to be on my lap any time I sat down to work on a project, and whining and meowing non-stop. Part of the time I could feel flattered that she wanted to be around me so much, but most of the time it was just plain frustrating to deal with, I freely admit.

Three days ago I came home to vomit stains all across the apartment. Annoying, sure, but this does happen from time to time. What made me think something else was up, was when I found her on the bed, looking like she was in a daze, meowing the most sorrowful, and mournful cries I'd ever heard from her. She did not eat, she would not drink, all I could do was to clean up the occasional vomit and try to comfort her. Three more days of this and I knew she was fading out. She could barely walk or move. Her cries turned to light gasps, emitting no sound, but air. Her eyes were dilated and distant. It was the last decision I wanted to make for my long time companion, and it took me the better part of an hour to make myself do it. So, at around 11:30 am on Wednesday, January 7th, 2009, Hobbes, my dependable friend, the listener of my witty repartees, the girl who was with me through most of the turbulent changes in my life, was put to sleep. And yes, I cried a bit in the car on the way home without her.

My chin is actually quivering a bit when I write that. Seems kinda pathetic doesn't it? I know that eulogies are not for the person you intend them for. After all, they're dead. No, it's for the person saying it. Will my cat have ever understood that I cared about her and valued her? Will she ever know she brought me moments of solace and comfort? Would she even care if she did? Who knows. Questions to which we shall not know the answer. However, I can know that I felt this way, and that I know how impactful another creature can be, and has been to me personally. And since I am the one still living, that is what matters.

You've been a wonderful cat despite your quirks and propensity towards urine and my clothing. Although It's funny looking back now. You've given me your version of love when I was unable to find it in others of my own species. I will miss you with all of my heart, and send all of my clever one-liners and plays-on-words your way.

Goodbye Hobbes.

2008: The Worst Year Of My Life

Greetings to the five of you who even bother reading my infrequent brain ejaculations.

I know that I write these for myself, as a vehicle for self clarification, though in the back of my mind I'm always secretly hoping that any insights I may have will benefit someone else. Yes, I know. Wishful thinking.

This post is something I've been waiting to do for a while, and since we've hit December, it guess it is the time.

As you've no doubt noticed from the title, 2008 was without a doubt, the worst year in my entire existence. It's not that often when a whole year comes along that consistently and ceaselessly rapes you in orifices that it, itself, created. A bit over-dramatic perhaps? Sure. But in the midst of it, that is how it felt. That being said, the eventual upside has been the fastest growth in learning, understanding and awareness that I have ever experienced so far.

I already know what you're thinking. This is going to be a long blog where Niko bitches and whines about the fact the "life is hard" and "things didn't go my way" and "woe is me", taking the victim approach and yelling at "god" for what happened. No. But indeed life can be challenging, and many things did not go my way. However I am not taking the victim's stance, nor am I angry at a god. Although I may have felt like a victim earlier when I was standing in the tidal wave of experience, from this vantage point I see things quite differently.

"So what happened?" you may ask. Go ahead. . . .

This is year brought to me a personal deconstruction on four fronts. Emotional, mental, physical, and finally financial. I believe not in fate, or purpose for the occurrence for situations in my life, instead I view it as random and naturally generated, and unusually clumped together. I just wanted to clarify my perspective before I went on.

1) EMOTIONAL
2) MENTAL

I will speak about these two together as they are directly connected. I'm actually a bit hesitant to write this, as it's probably the most personal I've been. We are taught (or we learn) to fear being open and honest with our emotions in our everyday relationships with friends, family and loved ones. Brazen, yet tactful directness with honest feelings and thoughts need to be reintroduced into the subconscious, and then to the conscious. It almost seems foreign to many of us who are used to stuffing, or bottling our true emotions.

Relationships are rare for me. I've always been somewhat of a self-focused, introspective person who was quite often confused and afraid of inter-personal dealings with other human beings. I was always quite curious mind you, at how people interacted and why people would want to get together in a romantic sense. But for me, the relationship curiosity stayed just that, as I found much more interest during my younger years in the pursuit of expanding my mind, and working on my creative endeavors, chiefly music composition. At times, I would feel almost wholly separate from society, looking down on those who gave into their primitive animalistic urges, instead of pursuing the lofty esoteric goals of the bright minds, and creative geniuses in history.

So the few brief moments I have in something as surreal as a "relationship" are quite strange and uncomfortable for me, as unlike many people in my generation, did not focus a good deal of my time in the conquest of romance and sexuality. I've always been a romantic at heart, but due to fear, and directed by my personal ambition (as well as the fact that I have the tendency to be a pretentious elitist), I abstained for quite some time.

With that in mind, when I do find myself in a romantic situation, it is usually more impactful on me (due to it's relative unfamiliarity and newness) then on those I am with, that the end result of the inevitable separation can hit me harder then others. True was the case of the beginning of this year, when a chance, and rare relationship with an actual human being was terminated.

The causes were subtle and numerous. Age differences, personal differences making themselves more apparent over time, life crises (on both sides), as well as many psychological incompatibilities and disparate approaches to life, all of which combined to signal the end in what was otherwise a very exciting, and positively emotional moment in time. I could go on in deep analysis of the true reasons and underlying causes that resulted in the breakup, but I feel that would be A) too long of a tangent for this blog, and B) inconsiderate to the other person involved in this situation.

It was not by any means a violent ending. It was a complicated emotional decision in which I tried my best to be understanding with. But the fact still remained that I did not want to end something that was just starting to get comfortable, when I was finally feeling okay to let my personal guard down and allow someone into my odd, yet interesting inner workings.

Even though this wasn't one of the terrible movie breakups you see, it was very ingrained in my emotions, after all, I just let my wall down and the flashing red spot on the boss was revealed. I felt quite vulnerable and fragile. I did my best to keep a straight face while working and around those who knew us both, but it was a facade that most could easily see though.

Due to my relative "newness" with more serious relationships, the unfortunate and predictable result was that I would be significantly more affected then she would be, simply due to our uneven levels of personal interaction experience. It never feels good to be no longer needed, desired, or valuable to someone, which is an ingrained human trait that we all need to continuously satisfy in myriad ways.

The emotional weak spot (as in my video game boss analogy) was extremely tender and sore for far too long. In fact I still feel embarrassed for the amount of time I was reeling from the experience. This was not a long-term multi-year marriage, it was a short burst of intense emotion that lasted, at best, the better part of a year, if that. And yet we cannot control our emotional selves with such tyranny. I felt strongly about this for the majority or months that followed leading to the direct connection to my mental self image.

I would never have said that I had high self esteem or a strong self image by any means. My tendencies lean toward a personal mental/emotional masochism, in which I've somehow come to deem as "normal". My internal beating and mutilation (though entirely in my mind) was rampant and out of control. I was in one of the worst depressions of my young life. I saw myself in the most stark of contrasts. Everything about me was awful, pathetic and worth absolutely nothing in the eyes of others, and therefore, myself. I had no sense of personal value, even when logic would tell me otherwise, that tiny voice was instantly washed out by the tsunami of self-destructive and irrational emotions. I was, by my own accounts, the most terrible worthless thing I could imagine, namely, human.

As a quick and temporary distraction, I tried to find someone to fill the gap, as many of you do. I submerged myself in my past, regrettably, by getting ahold of several girls I was once in contact with, some with semi-romantic connections, others with only desired connections that never came to fruition. I knew the easiest way to get over someone is to find interest in someone else. Well, luckily, none of these worked out to anything, and those that could have, I realized quickly that I truly did not want them. I only wanted the feeling back, the quick fix of the emotional hurt, not the literal person I was in contact with.

Over the next several months, the over-analyzing and re-over-analyzing-again of everything that happened and everything I was, left a gaping hole in my psyche, a placeholder carved out from the parts of me that failed, the parts of me that could not survive going forward. In a sense, it was the process of natural selection for my brain. The ways I approached the world and myself. The ways I dealt with others. How I saw myself. Who I wanted to be and who I was now. All of these things had failed their test in the real world. If I was going to survive out there, I was going to have to rebuild myself and learn from the vast amount of mistakes I had made. For my mind, it would be survival of the fittest ideals.

3) PHYSICAL

I've discussed this at length in my "Touching Death In The Crotch" post, but I will still sum up for the purposes of a complete article.

So there I was. Two strikes against me for the start of 2008, still feeling like a wounded bird (and embarrassed for feeling that way over a relatively short relationship), but slowly pulling myself up and out of the mire.

*Movie trailer voice*

"But little did he know, that his world, was about to change."

In mid August I took ill with some sort of terrible stomach pain. I had been drinking a bit the previous night so I linked the two together as cause and effect (or if you prefer, Hall and Oats). It was a really bad sign from the start when I was walking home from downtown (yes walking) with the most awful stomach pain I could fathom. Forty-five minutes of walking home in excruciating pain. Good times. Try it sometime.

The only relief I had from the pressure and pain, albeit temporary, was to force myself to vomit, as for some reason, my body did not want to do it naturally, which I did find quite strange.

The biggest sign that something was really wrong, was the fact that part of my upper abdomen was bloated and distended to about the size of an egg, even to the point that the skin around it was becoming discolored. Not a good sign. I just figured I had some sort of blockage in my intestine and some stimulant tea would cure what ails me.

Well, after almost five days of this, with virtually no improvements, I was finally encouraged by my dad to actually go to a real doctor to at least know what I was dealing with. So, with help, I was taken to the emergency room at a local hospital, run through cat scans and such and given a sexy gown to wear.

The news was great. Apparently I was suffering from what is known as an Incarcerated Abdominal Hernia. This is actually a bad thing. Imagine if you will (and you have no choice) the intestine and bowel getting kinked like a hose so nothing can pass through. Already pretty crappy. . .(pun). Then on top of that, imagine that this kink gets stuck in a tear in the abdominal muscles and is virtually caught right under the skin, which is not where it should be. Good times. Obviously no amount of juices, tea, and rest could have cured this.

The scary thing for me, was that the doctor then told me that if I had waited only a few more days, my bowel could have ruptured and most likely, I would have died. Yes died. In just a few more days. Now I'm not sure if that was accurate, but I'm not waiting around a few days to see if he was right. Just to hammer the death thing home, my electrolyte and potassium levels were so low due to all the vomiting, that I could have died from just that as well.

So I was put under and operated on that very night. I heard later, that kinked part of my bowel was literally dead, and part of it had to be removed, as well as portions of my intestine, though not much. Since everything was blocked up, the surgeon said that the upper intestine as swelled to almost ten times its normal size, and I didn't even get an award!

All in all, the surgery went well, and I began the extremely joyous recovery in the hospital. I had a tube shoved down my nose and IV's coming out of every vein. In other words, I've never looked better. My hospital stay lasted almost a week, and I can tell you that I've never felt more pathetic, feeble, and worthless, especially when combined with what I was still feeling from the beginning of the year. Even though my physical self was slowly healing, mentally and emotionally, the experience was quite devastating, which I never expected. This whole ordeal only helped to compact my state of mind and heart to nearly push me over the proverbial edge. Even though I should have felt great that I was not dead, and things went well in surgery, I could not escape the black hole of depression.

4) FINANCIAL

I remarked many a time to the few friends I keep that I was destroyed on "all three fronts" this year. It made an interesting story for sure, and maybe it was a gap in my imagination or understanding of whatever can happen will happen, but I thought I had reached the bottom of the barrel. Apparently, this barrel has a few sub-basements.

This is the least important of my four personal breakdowns, but still worth mentioning, as it pertains to the eventfulness (to use a work devoid of emotional implication) of this amazing year of 2008.

Right then. On with the show. I had been working all year (save for the first month and a half when I still worked the clubs. . .*shiver* . . .) being a freelance music composer. Pretty cool sounding isn't? However, I was mostly working with one client, my friend Kevin who wanted to put on this big theatrical production which I've also mentioned previously. The good thing was that I was getting paid to write music for a full on play, the bad news is he ran of money half way through the year. What is the good of being a freelance music composer, if you only have one client who is out of money? I'll tell you what, "to get to the other side".

Yes, it was stupid for me to try and venture out on my own without a stable handful of clients to keep the money coming in. I see that now, and even at the time, I knew I would have to go back to the gut-wrenching world of a pointless day job in order to pay rent and food for my (currently) pathetic existence. Some cracker jack deal eh? What I wondrous capitalist world we've created!

My "get a boring job that devalues my self image even more, in an environment where I get zero respect for the things I'm actually talented in" had it's brakes slammed hard when I almost dies in August. Once I was out of the hospital I need to recover for a good while, as I had trouble sitting or laying down. This was no condition for me to be getting a job. Mediocrity would have to wait for my old man stage to ware off. (Both quite worthwhile, but I would recommend the duck).

Time passed quickly as I slowly regained my basic ability to walk around and function normally. During this time I was able to get a lot of much needed work done on my third album, which I'm still very surprised I had the strength for. Creative projects aside, I needed to survive in Moneyland, USA, and musical masturbation is not going to solve that. I sold some music equipment and sustained myself on that for a month or two, until the ugly head of the demon raised it's blue-collared immensity before my eyes (Satanus Workweekus).

With my bank account almost completely drained, and the threat of having to move in with my father again like a complete failure (note: I'm still a failure, just not %100. Therefore I'm an agnostic failure), I begrudgingly spent what felt like an eternity hunting down dull jobs. I found the situation very humiliating and ironic, as I had to, on a few occasions, talk myself up and try to convince a prospective employer that I would be a great candidate for a job that I never wanted in the first place.

I received no calls, and no one appeared to be hiring in this glorious economic time. It's a really shitty time to need a job. I felt I was going to have to concede and be the 27 year old who moved back in with his "daddy" because he could not cut it in the real world. Granted I am very much in my own little realm of existence most of the time. Living in an amazing world intellectual discovery and imaginative creativity (coupled with the traditional emotional masochism and mental self-mutilation sessions. . . . . . .damn. . . . I really do embody the "tormented artist archetype" don't I?). But this has nothing to do with the outside world, unless I get the opportunity to share my creative insight with others.

To sum up. I now have a job as a cupcake (I'm a host at an upscale bar/restaurant) which is easy, and should at least pay my stupid bills. Relegated to the drudgery of Everyman Land, drinking the bitter soup of those who gave up before me. Let this be a lesson to me to be more prepared next time I try getting back into the music for hire arena. I feel all of the things I felt before when I was mourning after the death of my relationship, the near-death hospital stay and my lack of financial stability. As usual I'm too focused on my creative expression and my high-gear pursuit of learning that I have trouble assimilating into the world around me.


WHICH WAY DO WE GO FROM HERE, DEAR LADS?

And that brings me to where am I now. In the back of my mind, I am open to the possibility of there being a fifth front on which I get destroyed immediately after I post this. But this time I'm ready. I'm not really sure exactly what that means, but I will not lament if I am hit again, nor will I place any supernatural forces behind them. In fact, the final result has been giant leaps in what could likely become a new start.

Yes, I did not enjoy any of the processes that I went through this year, but even early on, I was seeing something growing out of the ashes. New thoughts, questions, perceptions and perspectives were forming. I spent a good deal of time early on, having long conversations with my dad, and others about relationships, then moving into self examination (see my blog on self-perception for one of the observations during this time), human behavior, cognition, the nature of reality and more. It was, although still very emotional for me, my only moments of exhilaration; opening up my mind to new understandings of who I am, what I do, and how I think. It all starts with the self. In fact I'm actually quite shocked that I was able to glean so much information out of what was a very short (by most standards) and insignificant relationship. Good work brain!

This addicting quest is well within my nature, as I've always loved learning about myself and the world, but this new growth period was like being on steroids. This soon led me deep into other intellectual voyages into topics and subjects that I may have been interested in before, but never really studied.

If this year as a whole was the accumulation of vast knowledge in a short time span, then the last two months were an exaggeration on even that. Recently I've been devouring books like I have not in years, perhaps ever, and soaking up documentaries like a sponge. Some of you may have noticed my last post where I put together a list of many of the recent doc's that I had been watching, in the hopes that others may find them as exciting as I did. I notice there seems to be a lack of interest in that by many, which is disappointing, but at the same time, we all have our current areas of interest.

I joked in an email correspondence a few months after my breakup (to my ex girlfriend funny enough) that I was learning so much these days that I had to take out a loan on a second brain.

In this whole transformation process, as I see it, I've been given a quick crash course in human interaction, psychology, philosophy, and self perception. I am grateful that I have been able to transmute the negative moments, feelings, thoughts, behaviors, and perceptions into an absolutely mind-blowing re-construction of the person I would like to be. Am I there yet? No, but there is no final destination, only the process. My simple hopes are that I have at least lain the foundation upon which a stronger, wiser, more aware person can grow. I am at times, uncharacteristically optimistic about where I can go now, not that I am always sunshine and lollypops. I am still as analytical as ever, if not more so now, and am approaching my slow acclimation back into the real world with cautious curiosity.

Whatever random events 2009 has in store for me I welcome with open arms. 2008 has destroyed me many times over, and given me the opportunity to build myself anew, and if 2009 would like to deal me such a hand again, just think of how much more I will get to learn.

Thanks for reading,

NIKO

Touching Death In The Crotch

About two weeks ago I took ill, and fairly badly. I was experiencing the worst stomach pains I had ever felt, and I chocked it up to one of a handful of traditional explanations: alcohol poisoning (even though I had not consumed that much), the flu, male pregnancy etc.
The only relief I had from the pressure and pain, albeit temporary, was to force myself to vomit, as for some reason, my body did not want to do it naturally, which I did find quite strange.

The biggest sign that something was really wrong, was the fact that part of my upper abdomen was bloated and distended to about the size of an egg, even to the point that the skin around it was becoming discolored. Not a good sign. I just figured I had some sort of blockage in my intestine and some stimulant tea would cure what ails me.

Well, after almost five days of this, with virtually no improvements, I was finally encouraged by my dad to actually go to a real doctor to at least know what I was dealing with. So, with help, I was taken to the emergency room at a local hospital, run through cat scans and such and given a sexy gown to wear.

The news was great. Apparently I was suffering from what is known as an Incarcerated Abdominal Hernia. This is actually a bad thing. Imagine if you will (and you have no choice) the intestine and bowel getting kinked like a hose so nothing can pass through. Already pretty crappy. . .(pun). Then on top of that, imagine that this kink gets stuck in a tear in the abdominal muscles and is virtually caught right under the skin, which is not where it should be. Good times. Obviously no amount of juices, tea, and rest could have cured this.

The scary thing for me, was that the doctor then told me that if I had waited only a few more days, my bowel and/or intestine could have ruptured and most likely, I would have died. Yes died. In just a few more days. Now I'm not sure if that was accurate, but I'm not waiting around a few days to see if he was right. Just to hammer the death thing home, my electrolyte and potassium levels were so low due to all the vomiting, that I could have died from just that as well.

So I was put under and operated on that very night. I heard later, that kinked part of my bowel was literally dead, and part of it had to be removed, as well as portions of my intestine, though not much. Since everything was blocked up, the surgeon said that the upper intestine as swelled to almost ten times its normal size, and I didn't even get an award!

All in all, the surgery went well, and I began the extremely joyous recovery in the hospital. I had a tube shoved down my nose and IV's coming out of every vein. In other words, I've never looked better. My hospital stay lasted almost a week, and I can tell you that I've never felt more pathetic, feeble, and worthless. Even though my physical self was slowly healing, mentally and emotionally, the experience was quite devastating, which I never expected.

But that is behind me now. My dad broke me out of "prison" earlier this week and I've been fortunate enough to have a place to recover and heal, as I'm still not very mobile or self sufficient yet.

I'm improving day by day, but as usual, it's never fast enough. I have vocal takes to continue with, but I doubt I'll be in any good shape for pushing lots of sound through my diaphragm for a while still.

I'll get back to work as soon as I can, it's just an unfortunate set back. But hey, at least I'm not dead. . . . yet.

Self-Perception: What A Beautiful Thing!

The easy definition of self-perception would be "how we see ourselves". Though I agree with that basic notion, I have expanded the meaning with a newer observation. Self-perception goes deeper then simply how we see ourselves, it is how we would LIKE to see ourselves.

I recently went through a really rough half-a-year that forced me to do some really heavy self-examination, and let me tell you, what I found was not always what I wanted to know, hear about, or see in myself. I had seen myself as a person who does certain things, behaves in a certain way, and comes off a certain way. It's a terrible feeling to see many things within yourself that you do not like about others, and that is exactly what I discovered.

Being that we are self-biased to begin with, it is not always easy to be objective about who you really are. Sure, we all think that we know who we are, as I'm sure you think you know who you are (at least to a point). Sometimes we behave or speak in ways that are unbeknownst to us, and are quite obvious to those around us. Often these subconscious traits are interpreted to mean something unintended by the person perpetrating the actions. One way to see this would be that if someone interprets something about what you did/said then they are wrong about who you are, since they merely took what you did in whatever way they took it, right? Because you are not aware of something about yourself, and because other people interpret something out of what you did/said, does that mean it is not part of who you are?

The answer, of course, is that it is all you. In fact you can only know yourself from your own, internal perspective. And while this is a very deep perspective, filled with insights and understanding that no other human being will ever be privy to, or comprehend, it is not the only facet of what makes up your being.

Therefore, I will say that most people (myself included) tend to view themselves with incomplete evidence, thereby giving only a partial picture of who we are. In that way, it would be almost impossible to know yourself fully. Adding to this, is the idea that we are more interested in seeing ourselves in an ideal sort of way, as opposed to a realistic way. We view ourselves in the future sense, the person who has arrived not the person who is getting there. Why? That is how we would like to see ourselves: as the most accomplished, successful, interesting, intelligent, talented, attractive, important, influential, cool, and all around good person we could (and maybe should) be.

More often then not, these thoughts and views of ourselves are not conscious. They are like our dreams intruding on out self image. And most of the time I would guess we are completely unaware that we have a jaded view, and largely, an inaccurate grasp upon who we really are as people.

One of the upsides to a fantasy-like perception of one's self, is that it can actually be a catalyst to get us to become that person we want to be, or accomplish the thing we want to accomplish. And other times, it can do the very opposite and keep us from doing anything as, in a way, we are already there.

Sometimes self-perception can be intentional. It can be used as an avoidance of certain aspects of who we are that we refuse to accept or are afraid of. As is well known, fear is one of the biggest, if not THE biggest negative motivators in our lives.

As a semi personal example, I had a friend who fit some of these ideas. For this blog I'll change the name and call him Zeus (why? It's a cool name, and I feel that more people should be named after greek gods).

Zeus had surrounded himself with many superficial friends, would attend a lot of parties and such, and by all accounts was a quite liked, respected and popular guy. Zeus was under the impression that he was a fairly self sufficient person, yet my observations of his true nature were quite different. I had told him, on one occasion, that I thought that he was a person who craved attention, needed to be adored by other people, and was quite co-dependant. Now, these don't have to be fully bad traits, but if someone sees them as such, as I sort of did, they can be.

Zeus, naturally, denied my claims outright. The last thing he would want to think about himself is that he is, in some ways, desperate for attention, and needs to be fawned over by silly young girls (not that that is torture by any means). But the thing is he never saw himself as a superficial person in that regard, and had thought he was someone who was quite independent and did not need the lavish praise of others to make himself feel good. Obviously, we all need some form of outside validation once in a while, so there is no blame being passed there. But when he is going out of his way to wear the latest, most fashionable clothes and to attend all of the hippest social gatherings as much as possible, one starts to wonder what the motivation is. The idea of him embodying all of these traits was absolutely awful to him, and therefore he was more content to see himself as the person he wanted to be, without actually being that person.

One of my personal favorite examples of Self-Perception is the show American Idol. Though I am generally not a big watcher of the show, and could never tell you, let alone recognize the new winners each year, what I do love about the show is the first few episodes where I get to watch all of the awful singers make fools of themselves on national television. I'm sure some of you can relate.

What makes this such a great example of our topic, is the strangely high number of contestants that, by all accounts, are genuinely terrible at singing, and yet seem to be convinced that they are amazing, let alone good.

I can recall several specific instances whereby a hopeful young person gives their audition, in what can be observed by musicians and non-musicians alike, as god awful. Blatantly tone-deaf, and just all around embarrassing. Once the performer is finished (or cut off usually), the judges tend to tell the person, in so many words, that they are not a good singer, and rightfully so. Now comes the interesting part. The performer in question has, many a time, responded in general idea of, "You [judges] are the ones who do not know anything. I actually am a great singer. All of my friends and family think so too!"

What is startling is that all of America (and other countries that watch the show) know that this person had just performed terribly, it's almost fact. Granted art can, and is, interpreted in different ways, and one man's trash is another man's treasure. All fine and good. But I would assume that most people would consider this singer's voice garbage.

What is the biggest support this singer has to validate his/her self beyond their personal opinion? Outside sources. In this example the person cited friends and family who reassured or even encouraged them. Outside validation is a potent thing, I know this well. It can inspire us to try even harder, or to give up completely.

So let's look at the contestant's assertions.

He/she is a good singer because other people told him/her so. Why would people intentionally tell such a terrible "talent" such utter rubbish? Here are a few scenarios I can think of:

A) The friends/family are fully conscious of the aspiring singer's abilities, and are telling them positive things as to not hurt the person's feelings.

This is yet another great observation about human behavior that you'll see quite often. We tend to avoid telling the truth when such a view-point will hurt the feelings of the person in question. So encouragement of that person's self-delusion of the trait, idea or situation is furthered, sparing the person temporary hurt for long-term ignorance. Is this really the best solution here? Would not the long term growth and understanding outweigh the momentary emotion of being told a truth that contradicts what a person would WANT to hear?

B) The friends/family are fully conscious of the aspiring singer's abilities, and are telling them positive things to have that person go out and fail miserably.

It happens. In this case I would assume that the person, or rather the victim, is probably not on the best terms with the friends/family, and they are trying to teach this person a lesson. Sounds a bit vindictive, and spiteful too, but hey, that's human.

C) The friends/family are delusional just like the singer and really don't know what good vocalists sound like. Hence them praising and encouraging awfulness.

I suppose a fourth scenario is that this person is truly a vocal virtuoso, and all of the rest of the world is wrong. Not bloody likely.

The singer's self-perection of him/her self is that they indeed can sing wonderfully. Look how far from reality self-perception can take us. Look how distorted this person's view of themselves is. The result of this is that after watching something like this, I tend to throw that same critical perspective back on myself. The comparison goes like this:

That person sings - I sing.

That person thinks they are at least a decent singer - I think I am at least a decent singer.

That singer was actually terrible and could not objectively hear themselves - Maybe I am a terrible singer who cannot objectively hear myself.

What is the difference between me and this person?

Well, as I see it, potentially nothing. What would be my argument in this? Probably something like, "Well the difference is I actually am a decent singer." Que? I just used the same logic this American Idol contestant used. That is no way to prove anything. Alright then, my next argument would be outside validation: "I have other people telling me I have a fairly ok voice, therefore I do." Well, again you see where this is going. Same as the god damn same. Again what is the difference between me and this person? This line of questioning has frightened me on numerous occasions in the past.

Another example involves a local band which I had the distinct "pleasure" to see and hear live. Band bios and band members are a great and fiber-rich source of self-perception. Being a musician and having a band over time I am no stranger to this. Musicians always think they are the best players, performers, writers, etc. Why? Because they want to be, thats why.

During my time working in clubs, I met my fair share of musicians in bands. I also met my fair share of musicians in bands who will use every opportunity to tell you that they are in a band, when and where they are playing/have played, and why they are so amazing/popular/important. Usually I just smile and nod, never mentioning that I too have a musical project and blah blah blah.

I will refrain from mentioning the names of the people, or the band name for politeness reasons, as these people have only ever been very nice to me, and this is not meant to be a full out attack, just an observation.

One light acquaintance in the scene was a nice guy who was working on his band's debut EP, which to my knowledge was an industrial/EBM sort of deal. He would tell me every time about the progress on the album and about the style of music and such. Basically it was quite hyped to me, and I was expecting a lot from him.

So what about self-perception?

Good point. The topic of this blog, yes. Well, I was given a copy of their EP (since we discussed mixing and mastering on many occasions) and was given their myspace address and website.

Upon reading their little band biography, the term "self-perception" flashed in my head like an "applause" sign. Here in the bio I read such phrases as (and I'm paraphrasing) ". . . and blends these styles into a powerful new sound. . ." in addition to listing a bunch of genres that they say they sound like or mix together.

This type of speak is rampant in the music world, and a big reason for me understanding this was I too had done this in my earlier years. Yes, guilty as charged.

Every band wants to tell you about how they are completely unique, original, new, different etc. Just because they want to be something, or want to have others think that they are something, does not mean that they are. And in this case, it is particularly true. So back to the example.

". . . and blends these styles into a powerful new sound. . .". Just as I said, they want very much to be these things, which is why they say them. Are they really unique and new? Well, the reality is they are not. Their sound was complete derivative of the industrial/EBM style, with virtually nothing fresh or "avant-garde" as they also said, to fly under the banner of " a powerful new sound". The music was by the book, generic music that sounded almost identical to their influences. Now let me say that they did what they did just fine. Not great mind you, but it was still passable by grading standards. I'm objecting to their idea of what they say they are, not what they actually are.

I mentioned that they saw themselves as a mix of genres. I believe the ones listed were: gothic, rock, electro and classical. Right off the bat, having heard their songs (yes more then one), I will concede and give them goth and electro, as the music was mostly synth based and was in a gothic style. But rock and classical? Rock is generally live drums, guitar, bass. Now they had a guitar player on stage, but his part was so minimal to their sound that they turned him down to barely audible live, and did the same on the CD. Also there is no drummer live, as everything is run off of backing tracks with programmed drums. This does not bother me at all, until you call it rock, which it is not. Finally the big one: classical? Classical. Are you serious man? Have you heard classical progressions and instrumentation before? I'm sorry but some barely-moving synth string parts does not mean the music is classically influenced. You yourself could listen to classical music, but it does not mean your music bares resemblance to it.

That last one is kind of personal as I used the same genre in describing my first album "Sweet Painful Reality" back in 2002. That album was by no means classical, yet it used some string sounding parts, and guess what? I wanted it to be perceived that way! Yes I even said there were Jazz influences, when there were none (at least on that album). Self-perception my friends. I said it was something because I wanted to be those things, not because it actually was.

So next time you watch an interview with a movie star, musician, politician or other such person, pay careful mind to what that person is saying and how they are saying it. Soon it becomes startling how much of what a person says about themselves is not actually who they are, but who they want to be. Not what they have actually done, but what they would like to do. And we are all guilty of this.

In conclusion, self-perception can be a great thing once you become aware of it. Self-perception is an ongoing process, as are most journeys of self discovery. But when you begin to be a bit more critical with yourself, and see yourself for the flaws, and flat-sides you have, only then can you really see the truth in who you are, and then begin to work on yourself, becoming the person that you always wanted to be. Except this time it's not delusional.

Death Of The Album, and The Death Of Music

Does anyone else feel fed up and bored with music these days? Does anyone else feel less excited upon hearing new music? And do you remember the last time you actually went out to buy an album, and not only that, but then were really blown away by it? And I mean the whole, entire album. I have been feeling this way for quite some time now.

Let me first say that the most important thing to me is composing new music. Depending on my mood and the piece I'm working on, it can still be one of the most thrilling and spiritual experiences I can obtain. My personal passion for writing music is as strong as it ever was.

That being said, let me bring us back to the current state of music.

More and more people are downloading their music instead of buying physical albums now. This story is by far nothing new and has been covered to death over the course of the last several years.

Why does this matter?

Well, in someways it matters not. People want music, which is good, and people get music, which is also good.

One of the biggest arguments against this is artist compensation, as a lot of people will download the songs they want for free through file sharing programs instead of buying the album. Should the artist be able to make money selling his or her art? Absolutely. Should a huge record company take the majority of the profits and leave the artist in debt to them? Not so much.

So how is downloading for free any different then making a copy of a friends cassette tape only a few decades ago, or burning a CD from someone, as some of us still do? Well, in my mind nothing. I've done both of these many times as I grew up. Many times, if I had burned off a CD, or made a good ol' tape of an album my friend had, if I really liked it, I would eventually go out and buy my own copy. Not always, mind you, but sometimes I would.

Now the point of this is not to address piracy or anti piracy, but to pull up a little dirt behind a few reasons, psychologically, we (see: some of us) download over buying the album.

For the sake of answering them later, let me ask a few questions out loud:

Do people want to buy albums?

Regardless of buying, do people even want a whole album anymore?

Do people just want the hit single(s)?

And if so, why?

Everyone loves to point blame at the fans and consumers. It's easy. THEY are the ones downloading right? THEY are the ones not going to record stores and buying the new hot album the radio tells them to buy. That means that the fault is all theirs! People just don't like albums anymore. That was easy. Case closed.

This a good theory to avoid the fact that soilent green is people. The machine is recycling it's own waste and giving it back to you. Let me illuminate.

Well, I for one, do not put the blame entirely in the consumer's hands. Sure, everyone should always take responsibility for their share of involvement, but also recognize when there are other factors leading to their decisions. The underlying subconscious motivations that have been building up for some time.

Let me pontificate on why many of us have become so used to, and in fact prefer to download a few songs here and there versus buying a whole album.

Ready for this? I blame the music itself. Yes, the music. And who is responsible for that music? The artists and the labels.

"So why do you blame the music?"

Follow me on this for a minute. If bands and artists no longer put out albums that are worthy of your time and money, people will eventually feel that - get this - albums are not worth their time or money. Startling!

How many times have you purchased a new album based on hearing one or two songs, say on the radio (if anyone still listens to that) or TV or something, only to be disappointed by the rest of the record? I'm going to assume a decent amount. At least where mainstream music is concerned, which is where this writing is primarily focused.

So now you have an album you just spent upwards of $18.99 list pice (remember Tower Records?), and you only like maybe two songs, or worse, just one. That renders the other 12 or so songs worthless, doesn't it? Why did you just waste your money? I bet you wish you could have just bought the song (s) that you liked. . . .

Hmmm. . . . ah HA!

One of my theories is that mainstream music has continually released mediocre and soul-less collections of "music" onto an unwitting public for so long that eventually the public responded like someone who has been burned one too many times in relationships. They move on.

So what happened? Do artists no longer care about putting out actual 'Art'? Do record labels really push their artists (or songwriters and producers in this case) to write a few "sure thing" songs that will sell and then quickly slap the rest together so they can start making money? Yes.

Lets start with easy easy one. Record labels.

Sure, they are like the faceless, evil corporations we love to hate in books and films, but are they all bad? No, of course not. But what started as engineers and producers who were not only in the actual, literal music business, and also really loved good music, turned into a giant corporate mechanism that churns out plastic discs.

Record labels will sign new bands and artists for financial reasons only. I'm sure you knew this one already. Most labels do not care how creative or talented the artist is, not to mention if they personally are moved by, or even enjoy the music that artist makes . Most often it is based on a mathematical formula involving the theory that "THIS band sounds really close to THAT band. If THAT band sold X amount of albums, we can market THIS band to those same fans, they will at least sell Y albums." Yes folks, no art. Just math. Again, nothing earth shattering here. But it is another point along the path.

Record labels do not care about art. Art means risk, and risk means it's not a sure thing.

This brings us to the second offenders, the artists themselves. If we follow the path I've mentioned so far we already have a band signed to a label not because of their creative potential, but because of quick turn around profits. So it's going to be difficult to depend on this average, to below-average talent pool to come up with a poignant piece of art. They may get lucky with those one or two songs you bought the album for, but everything else on that record is, unfortunately, filler.

What a sad term we had to coin. Album filler. Literally writing a song or songs just to take up space on a CD to pad in between the songs they actually spent a bit of time on. Is that the kind of record you want to buy? An album that even the artists themselves don't really care about enough to make it worth your while? This is the biggest thing of all for me in this chain: If a band or artist does not take the idea of music and an album of music seriously, guess what? The fans will eventually feel the same. If music is not treated as art, it won't be appreciate as art. It's hard to get excited about the food if the chef who makes it shrugs and says, "eh, it's ok". Boy, I really want to eat here again!

To add insult to injury, and then insult the injury again, there is a gross over saturation of "music" in the market place these days. There are just plain and simple, too many bands. Everyone you talk to is in a band. Everyone. And I'm sure you are familiar with the concept of percentages. With so many new bands and artists out there, that means there is a whole bunch of really great music now right? . . . . And with the current trend in music pointing towards the super simplification of music, and the glorification of people who cannot play their instruments well, it's no wonder music seems to be so dull and lifeless now.

I have always felt that, at least for me, music should be art. Music should move people, make them think and feel. Music can be impactful and life-changing. Music can help us through difficult situations and inspire us to grow and better ourselves. Music has the potential to help shape the general consciousness and literally change the world. Yes, I really do believe all of this. But most of the music right now has dropped the ball. In fact, I so strongly believe in the power of music that I think a lot of the music out right now is actually helping to regress us as a social consciousness. Yes. Move us backwards on the path to continued enlightenment and self awareness. I told you it's powerful shit.

It's as simple as this. If people are given an album worthy to purchase, they will purchase it. Do people want a really good album? Hell, I know I do, but it is getting very hard to find at the moment.

Once the industry as a whole understands that people don't really enjoy the taste of feces, and would rather have fillet mignon, maybe, just maybe they will see why they no longer have a job in the music business.

Let's bring art back to the people.

Valentines Day Musings

I was going back and forth debating whether or not to post anything in regards to Valentines Day. I know it's an easy topic to criticize, and I'm betting that there will be a significant number of blogs posted today with more or less the same sentiment, nevertheless, I have observations that I wanted to get collected as well.

Without further ado, my blog: Valentines Day Musings.

I've only had one good Valentines Day. One in. . . .well. . . .a good handful anyway. Ever since I was old enough to have the concept of love mean something to me, I began to place a small bit of importance to February 14th. I was inundated with commercials, movies, music and books that pushed idealized love, and for that matter, a particular day to show that love. At the beginning, this was all taken for granted. But as many of you find when growing up and dealing with reality, and people, you begin to lose your glossy outlook on life, and unfortunately, love.

The easiest thing to say here (and coincidentally, the most obvious) is that Valentines Day is just that. A Day. Just another day in which many companies desperately plot to sell their wares to you, and even more clever, make you feel guilty for not purchasing their wares. Similar the many other yearly staple of obligatory holidays like Christmas, father's/mother's day, birthdays, halloween, and the biggest offender of all, Canada Day!

Knowing full well that most of these holidays are now entirely driven by companies and their "must have" goods, does not change the fact that this day is built around the fallacy of idealized love. You've probably noticed, but most people's relationships are not like the movies. Many couples get together as a mistake, or as a result of too much alcohol. Most couples won't last, and the ones that do often stay together, not because of true love, or even regular love. Comfortability is a common bond. Staying together because it's easy. Or staying together out of fear of the unknown. Sometimes it's worse. Sometimes they stay together for only physical attraction when they fight, scream, hurt, abuse and cheat on one another regularly. Good times. Why don't they show that couple on commercials? That's at least real.

I can tell you personally that having the notion of idealized, perfect love has not helped me in my strange journey through life. Trust me, it's a beautiful concept and when displayed in stories, songs and film, it is everything you ever hoped for. But the side effects are that we get these ideals in our subconscious and forever distort our more healthy, grounded understanding of two people interacting, into something that can never be obtained, leaving us forever unsatisfied and unfulfilled. But wait - there's more!

The result of all this Valentines Day hulabaloo is actually often the opposite of the original intention by only causing those without a relationship to feel lonely and unworthy, just in it's inherent nature. This feeling can also make us question ourselves and put in a need for finding a significant other. What this is basically telling me in so many words is that I am no good on my own, and 'everyone else' is in a relationship and therefore so must I be. Not really the best affirmation for self-empowerment is it?

What about those of us in a relationship during the obligatory "you better do something nice for me" day? Does it really offer the great romantic potential that we see plastered all over our TV screens? I'm going to go ahead and just say 'no' here. I think that many a "V-day" has the chance to be pleasant and nice, but I'm going to wager that the truth of the matter is that it's really more stress and disappointment then anything else. How romantic can it be to receive a gift or gesture of affection when it is subliminally required? Hell, it's not even subliminal, it's direct and shoved down your throat! Back to the matter, yes, it's always nice to be thought of. But it's not quite as thoughtful when you realize that they were supposed to think of you, in a way, required to think of you. Isn't what in part makes something romantic is the fact that it is not fully expected? Getting a gift from someone on a random day to show they were just thinking of you seems to me a greater sign of that persons interest in you. That or they are cheating and feeling guilty. I'm trying to stay with the former here.

Many of these holidays have far too much expectation built around them. Once there is the requirement to do something or buy something for someone, expectations set in and forever skew your enjoyment of said gestures. Either it was not good enough, or it was the same as last year, or the same as an ex-lover who you are not on good terms with, or you just end up feeling guilty because your other made more effort then you and made you feel that your mindless contribution to the monetary obligation machine was less then.

And yet, with all of this very heady talk of analyzing this and that, and fully realizing that this day has no power or real meaning, my emotions still get the best of me and for whatever reason, make me wish I still had someone to feel obligated to buy something for.

Examination Of Why I Post Blogs

Just an observation:

Is it just me, or does it ever seem like you mostly post these silly blogs when you are not in a good place in your life? Maybe not. But it for sure seems that way to me.

I would have to say that most of the things I have posted on here (besides something promotion wise) was posted out of some sort of shitty emotion, i.e. being angry, depressed, lonely, etc.

Additionally, I know that most of the time I feel compelled to post my thoughts and feelings is when I am between relationships. Strange eh?

Is this due to the fact that being single, you are looking for attention? I guess it could explain on a subconscious level why I might post more in this state. I'm sure there are other reasons wrapped in there as well.

There are times, of course, that I may be exceptionally excited about an event or person/place/thing (remember your nouns), that I am called away to the magic (see: waste of time) of the internet to post my thoughts about whatever may be, so that 4 or 5 random people may skim through it and leave a pointless comment about it.

One thing to think about (at least for myself) is the fact that I don't really have a lot of friends. I know plenty of people, but I guess by choice and my charming elitist attitude, I keep very few people close to me. I do, however, have several levels of acquaintances ranging from those that I may say hello to, and those that are almost what I consider friends.

Why do I mention this? Well, in posting a blog about my state of mind on the public forum of the McWeb--, I am inviting anyone to read a text based reflection of myself at a given moment in time. Now most of the people on here I would consider an acquaintance, by which I mean no offense. But do I really care what people will think or say in regards to this? Not really, no.

So in summation I guess this is really just some sort of personal therapeutic vehicle for collecting and focusing my mind, rather then a plea for attention to those I rarely speak with. At least I hope so.

I guess I will be posting some more blogs for a while. 'Tis the season. Unfortunately.