DEPRESSION - 8 Years

I, like many folk, deal with depression. Mine is circumstantial. I'm not clinical. People who are clinically depressed are warriors. I'm more of a squire. I'm an artist too, so I'm inclined toward the dramatic. I also grew up via fiction, so I compare my life to said fiction for pretty much everything. No, you're right, it's not healthy.

When I was a kid, I had this dream of life and specifically marriage. You met someone, you fell in love, they were the one, and it worked or you made it work.

I got married at 22 and divorced at 26. It was an unhealthy and emotionally abusive relationship that robbed me of 4 years of my life and sent me down a shit spiral for those 4 years. I figured I was good. I saw a shrink (love Raymond), and came out the other end strong. Then I realized 4 years after that that I never completely healed. And here we are.

For the past couple weeks I've been dealing with the most severe depression I've ever had, including but not limited to a nervous breakdown. I'm coping. I'm seeing my shrink again (love Raymond), and I'm being supported by some incredible people. That being said, it's still going to be a trial.

I also realized something today as I got another dose of caring therapy (thank you Darcie). I realized that I never 100% dealt with the 4 years of shit with my ex-wife. The past year has been a slow, crushing slide, in which I've pushed my closest people away and kept hidden a multitude of feelings from people.

No joke, I couldn't recall physically feeling anything for a solid 9 months, with rare exception.

Things blew up and here we are.

In this time of healing, I've been doing my best to be honest with people, and open up about the things that I've been closed off to for so long. This has pushed people away, though temporary I believe. It's healthy, but it hurts.

Imagine, if you will, storing away your emotions for a whole year and a half, not telling the people close to you how you feel and ignoring your own intentions and emotions. Now imagine, if you will, letting all of that out as information on people in the span of less than a week. It's a lot to take in. I'm not surprised that people are confused and need time. Still sucks though.

As I spoke with my father, I realized that it has been more accurately 8 years that I've been dealing with this cycle of love, betrayal and grief. I'll break it down: 4 years with the ex that were a living hell, then 4 years where I thought I had dealt with everything but had just bottled myself up and walled myself off from love and compassion. I treated people I love like they were betraying me (WHICH THEY WERE NOT, ANDREW!), which would lead to grief over loss. Cue two weeks ago when I snap and here we are.

I screwed some loved ones over, man, lemme tell you. I didn't mean to. I feel terrible about how I've been. I'm owning up to my mistakes and accept the consequences. Fuck.

Professionally, personally and creatively, I've hurt myself and others because of this depression. I've missed out on jobs, treated significant others like they would screw me over because that's what happens in relationships (NO it fucking ISN'T! That's just what you think because you were in the worst relationship ever, dip shit! You treated these women like they were your ex wife who treated you like rat bastard garbage! Dumb-fuck! Giant fucking asshole!), taken more than twice the time to recoup old dance injuries...The list goes on.

I haven't been fair. Not to anyone. 8 years is too long to be broken. It's not just me that suffers.

I'm writing this post to keep myself accountable. For me and for my loved ones, I will put in the work and heal.

I am a great man who has limited himself and hurt his most beloved people because I never took the time to fully heal, to fully do the work that was needed. So I'm doing it. I can't change the past but I can start being stronger now and focus on those that truly matter. It's still going to take a little time, in which I will be hella awkward at times, but overcoming this depressive state is completely doable.

Personal: Be open and honest with my closest, my loved ones, my people. Repair the damage that's been done and fill their lives with adventure, happiness and support. Take the time to take care of my body.

Professional: focus on being a professional writer and entertainer.

Creative: Dance more. Write more. Entertain more. Support my friends more. Easy.

DISCLAIMER: I did not feel good as I scribbled this out. I screwed up and it will take time to mend that.

I have direction. I have goals. Most importantly: I have people that I love that I want to support by becoming greater myself. I'm already doing the work.

Have the best day you've ever had.

#LONELY / Cathartic

Truth time: I'm a very passionate, very loyal, very driven, very loving, very lonely person. There's more, but that's the primary set of feels that have ran through me this year.

DISCLAIMER: This is cathartic writing for me. You've been warned. If there is an off-chance that this post helps someone who stumbles across it: Good!

This post will be more of a factoid concerning Andrew Slac in the year of 2015 and my brain and the associated failings therein.

It's been a hard year. For a lot of people, not just me. I'm not saying it's been bad, just difficult or challenging, if you will. I've learned a great deal about myself, especially concerning my less productive attributes.

Today I learned that I am a very lonely person. This loneliness leads to fear and jealousy. It sucks. Example: When my very best friends have other plans and I can't hang out with them, I get jealous that they didn't choose to spend their time with me. It's childish, I know. I need my privacy, as does everyone, but I do have plenty of moments where I sit and wish I could be with my people when they are otherwise occupied.

Sometimes I get angry. Not sad or etc, but actually angry. Again: childish.

I learned early on that I have a very awkward view and grasp of the world. Things are generally stark black or white for me. I have to actively remind myself, sometimes verbally, that there are shades of grey for most everything, especially people. I hate it. Childish.

I've realized that, while I try to be a good friend and so forth,  I miss things quite frequently. Lately I've lost some people from my social life (most likely for the best), and others I've inadvertently pushed away or haven't been the friend they've needed. My black and white view points me to a solution, and my stress pulls the trigger and guides the bullet down a very narrow minded path.

Bad metaphors aside: I've lost some things this year, some things have changed, and I've gained some things I never expected. Full truth: I'm having a hard time dealing.

Last night I didn't sleep. Today I've felt like what it must be like to take a gut punch from Dwane Johnson (my tummy hurts). In general, I have no idea where I fit. It's been a tough year with all the emotions and what not. I'm working on it. Full truth: See previous full truth.

Mid-DISCLAIMER: I'm generally fine and I'm not writing this for more than needing to get my thoughts out of my cluttered mind. I'd rather not continue having the two nightmares that have been flip-flopping for the past couple of weeks.

Sharing circle: These nightmares are as follows...
1. Waking paralysis. I pretty much guarantee that everyone has had this. That bullshit awake state where you can't move and can't scream, and there's "someone" inside your room who wishes to do you harm...Or maybe they don't...You don't know. Which might be worse.

2. I get cheated on. More often than not, they don't even...cease when I catch them. They seem to revel in it. Bastards. I have this dream a lot, and it's never starring anyone I have ever dated (for the most part). A lot of the time it's people I scant even know, sometimes not knowing them at all.

Full Truth: I've only been in a handful of relationships in the past few years and not one of them has any place in #2. No one actually cheated on me. It's just a fear I've held on to since high-school (when I was cheated on...WOOT). Yes yes...In this scenario I'm something of Ross Gellar.

DISCLAIMER...Again...catharsis. Sorry. Having a challenging year.

Those dreams deal with being helpless, which manifests when I feel lonely. I'm sharing this in the hopes that by doing so I grow stronger.

I have a theory. By making your strengths and weaknesses simple facts that you can easily talk about you remove the pain that is associated and therefor become stronger. Hence this post.

Thanks for playing along.

Have the Best Day You've Ever Had.

A Thought from 4 AM

I went to nerdcon: stories. If you didn't go and you like books...Just go to it next year. If you in any way like stories, go to it next year.



I was reminded and assured why I want to be a writer. Part of it is the class, the clout, the feeling of performing and being selfishly appreciated. Part of it is the feeling of imparting wisdom or opinion or random thought to those around you, sort of the same rush I get from teaching anything. Most of it is how I feel when I write.

I really love my brain, and however I can communicate what goes on betwixt mine ears is a medium worth exploring. Writing is my jam. It makes me feel good, makes me happy, allows me to be introspective but at the same time organic and honest.

I was solidified in this thinking while at nerdcon. The final bolt into the chassis of my brain box was lying in bed after a day of panels in a peaceful city (SIDE NOTE: Go to Minneapolis. You're welcome).

I was lying down. It was about...4am? Yeah. Round then.

http://www.amazon.com/My-Fight-Your-Ronda-Rousey/dp/1941393268

I was reading My Fight/Your Fight by my future wife (Ronda Rousey, of course). Paraphrasing, there is a point in her tale where she has headed out into the world, young and angry and with things to prove. She is competing, and winning, and has the realization, over a box of Dunkin' Donuts, that she loves what she does and that she can do it for herself.

Thus is mine realization. Thanks everyone who makes nerdcon: stories possible, and thanks, Ronda. Your book is amazing, I learned from your experiences and I look forward to our nuptials (a word that I've spelled incorrectly my whole life. Learning is FUNdamental).

I love to write. I don't know how I'm going to make a living off of it (books, scripts, self help etc), but I want to make it my living.

It's the first job that I've really devoted growth to. I've spent a ton of time in other things, but I mostly just fell into them (dance included). Ethics and all that and so forth.

You're all awesome.

I'm still on vacation. New Orleans is an incredible place.

Have the Best Day You've Ever Had.

Andrew

From Plague: I Rise, Wheezing and Clear

From PAX I was gifted the plague, from Kumo: the sickness. Fuck these last two weeks in regards to my health.

But enough of that.

Today is the first day back at the gym (Black Rose ftw woot 420 no scope blaze-it swoltownusa roflcopterbbq creatine hench motherfucker). I'm so happy to feel my body again. That's mostly what this post is about.

I've been dancing for most of my life as a profession. Now I'm not and I've been feeling myself slide into a lesser version of myself. I don't stretch or get enough standard exercise, never mind the creative gap (fixing that). But mostly it's the physical side that's lacking. But this post is about the good stuff, the oooey gooey center of exercise that is feeling at one with your body.

I can't tell you how happy I am to be shaky and tired and so on and so forth via the post workout down period. My head is clearer (which may also come from no longer having the aforementioned plague/sickness that is freely traded at any convention).

Timing is a funny thing. Like most people I get into the headspace of "I wish I had done this that or the other" guilt-spiral bullshit. Excuses. I think you've heard of them? It's a thing where... Never mind. Sarcasm not needed. My bad. Here's a picture of Ronda Rousey looking fabulous and badass to make up for my un-needed dickery (fabul-ass... I like it! That sounds better than it did in my head!)

I spend the majority of my day, like most nerds/the average human these days, sitting at my desk or being otherwise occupied with things that inspire a hunched posture. It sucks! I used to be an athlete. I'm not these days. I'm working on it. Anyway, being once in incredible shape and not currently being there, I know what it feels like to be at one with your physical self and not. To be powerful, feel unstoppable, and to not. What's that saying? Ignorance is bliss? It's kind of true. It's a cowards excuse, but there is some truth to that. But again, I'm getting off track.

What this time away from the physical has given me is time to heal. Then I got sick and it gave me a pain in the ass. Two weeks of being deeply in my head. Here's the cool thing about that: where back in the day I would have wallowed in this state, instead I took my own advice and turned the proverbial frown upside down.

I spent so much time analyzing how I was feeling, and where I was physically and emotionally. The short of what I came up with was a few things I was missing from my life that would push me past where I have ever been.

Easy enough: Schedule was first. Creative outlet was second. And third was tying the two into training.

Schedule is easy: make a schedule. Stick to it. Done. Been working so far, even as loose as demands on my time are these days.

Creative outlet. Also easy: Write all the time. Editing counts. Ideas count. Want to be a writer? WRITE! Done. Dance has been lacking, but I found a new exercise to heal and strengthen quicker so I can get back in the game. Working so far. To be clear: I don't want to pursue a career in dance anymore. It's an unforgiving business with very little income on the average. Not interested. It's gonna have to be my passion. Stoked.

Tying the two into training: I love crossfit. Black Rose has been a great home and I feel powerful doing the exercises we do in the space I get to work in. It's not for everyone, but it's for me. Boxing and Muay thai fill my need for martial arts. Insert WOOT here. The newest addition to the group is a couple of break dancing exercises that essentially mimics parkour training (quadrupedal movement and sustained body weight transference), and bullet time... I just really wanted to get the term "bullet time" into this post. Remember the matrix? Remember all the slowing down during run and gun scenes? Bullet time. Being less of a nerd: You do break dancing vocab, but you either do your moves horrendously slow, or you go from medium fast to slow ass all hell, move by move. It's weirdly fun! And it builds control like a sonofabitch!

That's pretty much where I'm at with the physical.

The last little bit, which has plagued me for some time, is the missing tool. I'm a writer, a dancer, an actor and a metric fuck ton of other things. Finding a single tool to best facilitate being a professional artist (with a decent wage) has been a trial. And then there's youtube.

I have a whole thing I want to say on youtube, but I'll save it for another post. The short: I honestly think youtube is the key to my success as an artist. Yes, I'm late to the party, but you gotta get there sometime, right? Call it fashionably late. I've been doing youtube gaming (let's plays mostly) as a new hobby for about a month. I love it. It's strange how commentating on anything can give you creative confidence and help clear your head. It helps that I grew up as a gamer. But more on that later. (let's play of Enemy Mind down below).

For now I'm going to go to my new place and haul crap out of the garage, then remodel a bathroom.

Have the best day you've ever had!

PAX Prime Day 1 / Professional Entertainment

DISCLAIMER: This post was me figuring a few things out in my head. It's a tad awkward here and there.

It's extremely valuable to absorb everything you can in your chosen field. So I went to PAX again.

I dream to entertain. I am also a nerd, a gamer, a geek and so forth. This is also the only time in any of my professional careers (of which I have had many) where I have tried my best.

I aim to meld the things that I can already do with a crowd/genre that I love, that has otherwise been left as another part of myself.

I have a great deal of inspiration around me in my closest people/the people to whom I look up to the most.

Today was the first day of PAX Prime. I went last year, but I wasn't sure how to utilize the information/spectacle that I was being bombarded by/with. This is the largest trade show I have ever been to (rumor being that numbers have reached the 80,000 attendee mark this year), and those numbers are not something you can prepare yourself for. 75,000 is roughly the size of Redskin Stadium (now Fed-ex field). Now imagine the entire stadium of similarly vocal, dare I say, zealous fans actively on the crawl that everyone adopts during conventions. It's daunting and exhilarating, but I'm getting off track.

My point is that I had no direction last year, and I have found direction this year. I love this field of expression. I'm a dancer and a writer and actor and so on and so forth, but I most definitely need this other aspect, this tribe of nerds in my life as a primary.

What makes me so sure of my desired placement is the celebrity. Not the fame, but the actual celebrities themselves, the folks who have already entered into the professional realm. I look for mentors. It's an easy, obvious observation. I've found my best in my friends, father and mother, but not in professionals in my other fields. This isn't to say that I don't respect and/or look up to those in dance, acting and so on. I have plenty of people I admire. The differential is the ego and presentation of that ego.

Before anything, I need to clarify that ego is healthy, to a degree. You did good, you celebrate. Good on you. Moving on.

My experience in the arts is with a great many folks who make it a habit to talk shit and boast beyond what is necessary. I'll probably go into great detail and specifics at some point. I'm getting off track a little...again.

There is something about the type of professionalism in the celebrities that I have chosen as "mine" in the gaming/nerd crowd. It's matter of fact. They seem to understand their position. They understand the prestige, the fragility and the value of their fans. I admire that and I want to be that kind of professional.

Today I hit a panel with Kindell that was Youtube Gaming, focusing on Game Grump's Aaron, PrestonPlayz, Shadypenguin and captainSparkles. (links are below) These people have over ten million subscribers combined. I have six. Moving on. It was your standard "tell us about the struggle" panel. What I took away from it was their down to earth attitude of "I do it because I like it," and "don't do it if you don't like it." They shared neuroses of social anxiety and advice to overcome it. They shared their technical wisdom. Mostly they made sure that people saw them as just folk, people who liked creating the content they do so they kept on doing it.

I've had the opportunity to meet the people I look up to most in my desired fields, and I feel like I'm latched to the right horses. Their character draws me in. Mostly, they seem to be like me. I've never felt that before, not in "superiors."

I want to be a writer like Patrick Rothfuss, a dancer like Danial Brown, an actor like Downey Jr, a friend like my crew, a parent like my father and mother. I want to be a youtuber like JackSepticEye, a producer like Kindell, an athlete like Aaron. The list goes on.

I have started making this list of what I want to accomplish with production. It's not as long as I'd first imagined it would be. I'll post it at some point. It feels tangible. I'm also at a point where I am excited to do the work and not just go for the reward.

Here's a couple:
Publish my first book proper and make a living as a writer.
Be consistent with youtube production - gaming/nerd/arts.

I'm on a good track.

LINKS for YOUTUBERS
Game Grumps - https://www.youtube.com/user/GameGrumps
PrestonPlayz - https://www.youtube.com/user/PrestonPlayz
ShadyPenguinn - https://www.youtube.com/user/shadypenguinn
CaptainSparklez - https://www.youtube.com/user/CaptainSparklez
Jacksepticeye - https://www.youtube.com/user/jacksepticeye/featured
ChknfootTV - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCOtLStn-LL5Hf-CMa1UQeVg

Failure can be Fun, Healthy and Hilarious!

I had a real bitch of a time trying to come up with something to write. I blanked that it's much easier to let life happen and then write about it. Life isn't really a vice versa situation. Then I made breakfast and watched cartoons and got something.

Failure is fun. Let me rephrase: Failure in the pursuit of growth is fun, if you let it be.

DISCLAIMER: This pertains to the psychological aspect of failing, not the possible harmful physical shit.

Easy stuff: I made my first attempt in making eggs benedict this morning. It was not pretty. It was delicious
(gochujang is a miracle spice
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gochujang), but it looked horrid, as though it had owed me money and I'd beaten it to death with a hammer. Eggs Benny swims with the fishes (that joke is stupid and I debated not writing it but I still did. Why did I do that?).

Side note: It hadn't occurred to me to take a picture of the fail. I'll do it next time as I did promise to share via pictures the triumphs and screw-ups I go through. Meh.

I laughed my ass off at how it looked. Then I thought about how I feel in training when I screw up. When I lift too much, or how I look when I've hit that exhaustion wall in cardio. It's priceless.

Side: again...pictures.

The same goes for when I write! The expressions, the curse words and so on are gold.

Laughing at these things pumps positive energy back into my body when I'm dead exhausted. It clears my mind when things get hazy. Laughter can take the poison from a failure and leave the positive.

Medium stuff: I once got on stage and had to do a bottle dance. It was Fiddler on the Roof. In this, you balance a bottle on your head while... Know what, there will be a video provided. Anyway, people didn't believe what we were doing was real, that we had cemented the bottles in place somehow. Wrong, fuckers! I proved that it was real by dragging my knee through broken glass that had been left by cast from another scene. Cut my knee open a tad, dropped my bottle, and forever proved to the audience for the rest of the run that it was real. Worth it. People talked about it a ton and yes, there was a bit of "...that guy fucked up," but there was more "Holy crap, they're really doing it!"

I've always been afraid of failing, so I didn't try my hardest in many things, hence my shotgun blast of a life-resume. I was never told, nor did I think about adding humor into failure. I usually went with humility, but only after I was 25. For those first 25 years, I just got mad. I feel like most people do the same. You fuck up and then dwell and root it in your memory as nothing more than that time you were less than you could have been.

I know that I felt a loss of control when I failed in the past.

Laughing at myself, specifically the situation or expression and so on, makes the circumstance mine again. It returns control to you in a positive way. It trivializes the failure you're experiencing and turns it into experience. It takes failure from something that happened to you and turns it into something that belongs to you.

Own your failures! You made them, they belong to you, so do with them what you will. Be stronger than the insignificant moment that just occurred and you will be stronger than you were before you screwed up.

DISCLAIMER: Again, this is pertaining to the psych side of failure. AVOID PHYSICAL DAMAGE IF YOU CAN.

Big stuff: I've been taken advantage of many times by a great deal of people. I don't want to go into detail now, because that's not relevant. The point: I can blame them, and be sort of right, but that wouldn't serve me. I allowed myself to be taken advantage of. It is my choice to let people use me, be that for good or negative intent. It is my choice and only my choice to accept the direction of others. I can look back on that now and say that it was my fault. I failed to stand up for myself and I can walk away stronger knowing that I can change future outcomes in regards to how I allow people to influence me.

I've only had this in my head for a few days. It's helping my work ethic and output and attitude.

At this point I would only be reiterating the things I've said. So let's call it good.

You're amazing. You. Yes, You! Go do something you're good at or that you suck at, either way you'll be better for it. You'll learn and grow and gain powerful memories one way or the other. If you happen to try and fail, then own it. Be proud of the trying and laugh if you're so inclined. Do with the failure what you will. You own it. It's yours.

Train and Treat it like a Job. Also Pictures.

Swoll. Yolked. Fit. Fwine. Hench. Muscled. Strongf. In-shape. Healthy. Boosh. Damn, son. Stronger. Better. Faster. Warmer. Warmer. Warmer. Colder. Warmer. Thunder and lightning, don't get caught in the storm.

Training is fun. It's hard work that leads to something tangible. It takes time and teaches you patience. Training is also something that used to scare me due to ego and the lack of confidence in myself.

Experiment, as I now have the confidence to embrace the work and not the ending that never came fast enough. Experiment: Document my life more than I am comfortable in ways that share my vulnerability.

Side note: I googled documentary to find a good picture and most of what came up were photos of suffering children, exotic animals and various displays of war. There was also the one I found which I picked because I thought it would disturb you more if you knew me (hint: imagine me as the woman! You're welcome!)

I'd thought about doing this before in the more popular way: posting my records, before and after pictures and so on. I still might do that. However, I think it's more interesting (for me, at least) to post and discuss the emotional aspect of it. Over the next few months/year, I am putting myself through a few things that I've always wanted to do.

1. Physical training - Crossfit, yoga and a little break dancing. I once was an athlete. I'm in fairly good shape. I want to be an athlete again.

2. Learning a craft - Blacksmithing. I do a great many things, but I wouldn't say I have a physical craft. I used to draw but stopped because of self esteem issues and a dick of a room mate who would insult everyone we knew in incessant, passive aggressive ways. I've had a dork level obsession about blacksmiths for as long as I can remember. Thanks to the fine folks at Trackers PDX (http://trackerspdx.com/), I can now live out this fantasy. Woot.

3. Profession - Writer. Many people have said the same thing, but I like how Ze Frank puts it:
"If you want to do something, then you should be doing it. If you want to write, then you should be writing..."
So I will. I have never treated my passions as jobs on purpose. I've always just fallen into them. I've experienced a moderate level of success this way, but I often wonder how things would be if I had poured myself into it and dedicated time in the way that you do a day job. Now, through the magic of actually doing stuff (trademark), we shall see how it goes.

Rules about the sharing:

1. No lying! - I can't lie anyhow, so this isn't a problem. But to be more specific: If I think it (within a small margin of reason) I have to share it.

Example: Yesterday's workout nearly made me throw up. It was only the second time I've come that close due to exercise. The other was sled push day. It made me feel weak for about thirty minutes to the point that I recalled being bullied on the playground as kid. I could now kick their ass. High road.

2. Pictures or it Didn't Happen - Pretty self explanatory. A picture is worth exactly 1000 words. So it saves me about thirty minutes of work. Also they're prettier.

Example: To the right and left. Right - Me pulling a sled that weighs 310lbs American. Left - The workout we did yesterday. Skin the cats is a gymnastic move. GHD is a fancy position that translates to "Hold this bar like this while you dangle out over nothing and push the bar like that, bitch!" ETOM means every minute on the minute. It was hard.

3. No fear...which I guess is essentially no lying. But with the added mark of trying new things. I'll be afraid, but will have to push forward.


No more rules. They're all very similar anyhow.

Side note: I'm drinking a protein shake with chia inside. I imagine the texture is similar to giving a happy ending to Jabba the Hut.

And now a moment to talk about being a creative professional.

Treat it like a job, they say. They're right.

Think about the amount of time the average person spends on their day job (average 9 hours including a lunch break). Imagine spending that time five days a week on what you want to do creatively. You'd be a professional in months, not years. Months.

This is harder if what you're doing is physically demanding, but don't forget the study side of things. Those 8 hours (losing an hour due to no lunch. Take a lunch. It saves life.), should include learning the finer points of your passion. Learn the history. Learn the sister activities of your passion. Learn how it equates to the real world and really think about how it makes you feel and what you're getting out of it.

Treat it like a job. Simple. Time consuming. Just like everything else that matters.

Treat it like a job.

If you made it this far, here is a picture of me celebrating America:

Value You Being Whatever it is You Might Be

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this out of frustration.

I spent a large chunk of my today uttering variations on the phrase: I'm going to be productive today. I also made sure to include a variable time-frame each time.

Whenever I give myself these mandates, I find that I am less than / equal-to not productive. I put pressure, no matter how small or grand, on myself and that pressure causes me stress. The stress leads to fear in much the way that fear leads to anger leads to hate leads to suffering (possible misquote of Yoda). The point being that I cause myself grief for not doing anything and then I don't do something because of my attempt to force myself to do anything.

Even as I write this I'm wishing I weren't. Which makes no sense to me. I love writing. I love the sound of the keys especially, but I love the feeling I get when I write. I become clear, more focused and composed. That leads me to a few somethings, but one thing in particular: professionalism. What makes someone professional is that they stopped deciding to do something and they instead did it.

And below is an example of that as it equates to being a creative professional, care of someone I very much look up to: Ze Frank. http://www.zefrank.com/

I deal with depression. It's not clinical, in the strictest sense, it's more learned. Learned depression. I was, like most people, bullied when I was younger. My being bullied didn't stop until about two years ago when I stopped listening to what most everyone else was saying.

That being said, I still carry scars from emotional trauma (like everyone). I still shut down when I think about certain things from my past, even if it's just me thinking about them and there was no outside inspiration for the fact.

Example:
I still don't like couples very much because I was in an emotionally abusive marriage and filed for divorce a few years ago. Seeing couples fight (and sometimes be overtly affectionate) pushes me back into a place of weakness.
Confession:
I don't hate too many people, and I don't hate her. I do, however, regret getting married so young (22).
Example:
Whenever an ambulance passes, I am taken back to when my father had his second heart attack.
Counter:
I force myself to think of "Have You Seen Her?" by the Chi Lights. My father introduced me to soul music and that song was playing in my headphones when I went to sleep that night.
A Personal Favorite Example:
Whenever I think about or see anything related to a summer camp, I am taken back to when I was unjustly fired from working at Camp Collins. I've mentioned this several times. It is one of my greatest shames. I think about this almost every day and it has tainted nearly every memory I have of my childhood concerning that place.
Positive:
I will never allow myself to treat another person the way that I was treated there. I will never allow myself to treat another person the way that I was treated there. I will never allow myself to treat another person the way that I was treated there.

And so on...

But this isn't about depression. Or maybe it is. I think it's about pressure, the self imposed kind we do when we think we're not good enough. That's what this is about. People who call themselves something are powerful because they think they're good enough to be that thing. Or maybe it doesn't even occur to them, their value that is. My value is always in question, but only by me. Which is stupid, yes, I know. It is. It's stupid.

What value...rephrase: There is great value in constantly evaluating yourself. It makes you take stock of who you are and find where you are in need of repair/strengthening. It helps you...You get where I'm going with this.

Here's what I do and what a disparagingly large number of people (mainly Americans) do: I evaluate and don't stop evaluating until there's nothing left to evaluate and then I evaluate whatever I can find that might have to do with me or maybe doesn't. It's obsessing. It's...I'm going to switch gears.

I am a writer. I'd like to make money doing it. I'd like to have people buy my books, ask for my help and my work, and I'd like this to be my primary income. Writing fulfills me the way that my friends/loved ones fulfill me. I am this, a writer that is. I am also a dancer and an actor. I'm good enough at what I do that I can say that I am one/all of these things.

Value is not what is in question. Value can not be measured by ones self as value is subject to the markets opinion/magic that gnomes poop out when...Value is a fuzzy concept. You get? Value is not, in terms of monetary/qualitative worth, something that you can assign to yourself/your work. You can encourage others to think like you do, to value your work/self like you do, but you can not force a mind to believe the things you do. People make up their own minds about what something is worth, so there is absolutely no reason to spend all of your time/energy worrying about how good you are or if you're good enough to be a something.

If you are writing regularly, you are a writer. If you play soccer regularly, you are a soccer player. If you dance regularly, you are a dancer. Fix houses, carpenter. Draw, draw-er-er.

Here's the two of it: You say you are a thing and you do a thing? You are that thing. You make money doing that thing? You're a professional that thing.

You might not be very good, but that's not for you to decide. That's their job. Your job is to be. So be. Go be. Be the best you that you can be, cause there's no other one like you. There's just you. Be you, whatever that is to you. Whatever you are is probably very beautiful. But that's me assigning theoretic value to you.

Snooze.

First Rule of River Club

An attractive, dare I say: beautiful, young woman crossed my path as I returned to my apartment this morning. I was smiling. She my way, our eyes met and then she smiled. Did I hold some sort of gravity as I strode home? Perhaps my positive demeanor caught her attention and she mused: Perhaps this is a man that I could chat to?

Reality: I was, and still am, wearing sweats that are all the same color. Top and bottom and beanie. Reality: I carried and have now consumed the contents of a Starbucks take-away bag. I was also drinking a double-shot in a to-go cup.  Reality: I was wearing sunglasses and Nike trainers while walking with a goofy swagger. Reality: I looked like a big douche-bag. Reality: She wasn't smiling with you, honey, she was giggling at you.

Still, I brought some people joy this morning. 

The following story has nothing to do with any of that.

Full Disclosure: I spent 15 minutes trying to find the perfect picture for the above photo. My favorite search was "wearing all grey sweatpants Starbucks douche." Kanye and Chris Brown showed up. I am satisfied. 

I had 4 great friends when I was a kid. I feel like everyone does. They were my band of brothers, the go anywhere/do anything crew. There was Andy, Joey, Dane and Ryan. I've known these boys since before kindergarten (Ryan) and at the latest fourth grade (Dane). This story is about Dane.

Every year my family and I would go on a fishing trip to the Metolius river, specifically to Lake Billy Chinook near Madras, Oregon. Usually it was just me and the folks and maybe a friend would tag along. One memorable year it was damn near the whole crew, me and my family and Ryan and Dane.

As young boys are genetically predisposed to being idiots: we did just that, and we did it well, by God. We were loud, we were insulting to every ear that would shelter our inane 16 year old banter, we were visually offensive by very accurately translating our dick and shit jokes into pantomime. As far as traditional adolescent dickery is concerned: We were tops. 

Now, I say that to say this: By the end of this trip, we were going to, actually going to murder Dane for crimes against his own. In a team of irritating testosterone and misguided energy, he simply came out as king. 

I'll skip to the good parts. Imagine that you've spent the past two days in the close quarters of a standard sedan and a one room hotel accommodation while in a record high for a desert town. Imagine you're clinically dehydrated, prone to heart attack and on your period. We'll go from there.

We typically rented one of two boats: a small silver fishing boat that cooked you not unlike the fish you were desperately trying to procure, or a platform pontoon boat (my personal choice). The pontoon boat not only allowed an awning for escape from the 105 degree sun sans cloud-cover, but provided a convenient escape from said heat and rays through a good ol' jump into the river. Provided you were able to get yourself back in the boat, of course...

Let me back up. 

My mother has a penchant for higher-ish end cosmetics. She is a woman of fine taste, even when it

comes to sun-screen. At some point we possessed, separately, a squirt-gun in the shape of a 44 magnum and a bottle of higher-ish end sun-screen. At some point, Dane had made combination of both of these items, creating something that Ryan and I found funny, though my parents were not as amused. At the time, a super-soaker that would quickly be recalled due to it's obvious sexual implications had been on the market. It was called the Ooze Blastin' Oozinator. Google it. The boys and I had talked about it a few times and thought it was high-comedy. We were right. So Dane took it upon himself to makeshift a version of it for our pleasure. I think the phrase: "I'm going to kill you," came out of my mother at some point. I'm 99% positive she would have, shuffling loose Dane from this our mortal coil, had the following retribution not been served via the universe and simple anatomy, physics and good old fashioned boyish insanity.

The boat threatened a great likeness to amateur porn thanks to Dane's liberal use of the squirt-gun. After a sound yelling, my father'd had enough and retired under the awning with my mother, the gun in hand. Most of the yelling came my way, as it should, as I was the one who was responsible as I was his son (fucking parental logic). Ryan and Dane had gotten more, but it was mostly my way. I was done with the whole trip at that point, eager to never suffer the likes of any form of irritation again. Dane continued to find things to press on to irk Ryan and me, as was our custom. And he did so brilliantly. He'd made songs we'd made up together become caustic. He was able to remove the joy, should he choose too, from any thing we shared and replace it with human shit. Years later he told me he did it on purpose to, and I quote: "Fuck with us." End quote. My temper was a bit more flared when I was young (I was an asshole), Ryan was the calmer one, but we were both done with Dane's shenanigans. It was at this time that Dane jumped into the river, and low we were presented with the afore-mentioned gift of petty retribution.

Dane now is a calm, beautiful man who takes his time to maintain his physical being through routine both cosmetic and functional. He is strong, hardworking and level-headed. Dane then was flabby, weak and loved to "act the fool." To play fair: we gave him far too much shit on the average, but times like this made it well deserved. 

With a low splash, Dane took to the river. He then attempted and failed to return to the flat of the boat via a rope that served as the only means of re-entrance. Which is a lie. There was also a removable step ladder and our basic assistance that could have served as means to return. They were unavailable. We laughed and taunted our friend about his lack of upper-body strength and inability to return to the dry side of things. He would attempt to hoist himself up, fail, and return to floating position. We would comment on carnivorous fish that in no way could live in our domestic environment. Dane feared such things and as such his irrational fear took over. Another attempt, another failure and another belt of ridicule, repeating this cycle for around fifteen minutes of PG Buffalo Bill-ing. My father was not pleased with our cruelty (or he was just sick of hearing us cackle and Dane bitch), so he forced us to help. We lowered the ladder and assisted our compatriot.

Splash.

No sooner had his feet touched the oddly comforting bristles of the deck did he dive back into the water. I look back fondly on this as his giving of the middle finger or restating intent to dominate the landscape of our friendship using his brand of ass-tactics. Then it repeated. We didn't want to hear my dad get irritated, so we helped him back in, saying: "If you go back in, we're not helping you," setting the new official rule: If you jump in, you have to get out under your own power. Ryan demonstrated this. I did not. I was a weak swimmer in my younger years and was irrationally afraid of drowning. I remained on the boat and acted as that guy does in a posse. You know the one. He stands beside and behind his more intimidating homies, ranting and raving about how the one who just offended his crew was about to get werked. That guy is a pussy. I was that guy. Back to Dane, who we had just finished lecturing about what I would come to think of as The First Rule of River Club. Ryan and I looked at one another, sharing a knowing glance and an unspoken: "It's gonna be okay from here on."

Splash. 

He was in again. A solid thirty minutes went by with Dane as another buoy banging against the hull. In no way did he learn anything, because lest we forget: teenage boys are actually insane. In that age, we do the same exact actions and expect alternate results. It's as if the rock will become sweet marzipan if we continue to bang our head against it. 

Eventually he did get in the boat, which impressed us. I'd like to think that it was that moment that lead to his clarified self in later years, that our darker intents had assisted in the tormenting and subsequent growth and change of an artist. It's not true and is, in fact, just boys being ripe anus's to one another, but it's a nice thought to have. It did, however, reinforce a simple rule that I hold true today: you are responsible for your own actions and consequences. The First Rule of River Club: If you're going to jump in, you damn sure need to be ready to accept the consequences. 

Fall in Love with Your Legend

I haven't written in a week beyond ideas and notation and the like. My head's been scrambled. It was then unscrambled when I hit the McIntosh family cabin up near Zigzag/Rhododendron. Open space, little to no pollution, the woods, a campfire and a little booze; I was right as rain in under three seconds.

*DISCLAIMER: I've had a beer or two. The opinions are still mine, though the writing might be shit.

Moving on.

I've been wondering, just wondering, how personal these blogs should be. Mostly it's rando-what-not that comes to mind and usually it's advice or my musings on life and so forth. I realized the other day that I don't get too personal when I put my philosophy. What I mean by this is the following: I heard about the newest shootings in Charleston and I tried to write something. I really tried. Each time I "penned" something I would hate it. I wouldn't see the value in it. I would think, "How is what I have to say any more interesting or valuable than anything anyone else has already said?" This isn't about the Charleston shooting, my train of thought, it's about my valuation of my opinion. I thought about my lack of enthusiasm for my words/work and I came to the conclusion that I have been as far away as someone could be to being a professional artist.

If you're going to do anything, especially the arts, you have to own yourself and opinions, and fall in love with your own legend. You have to be at one with the myriad of musings that pop into your dome. You have to be proud and truly believe the snake-oil that you're peddling. People are like any other animal: They smell fear. Folks know when you're not buying what you're hocking. Own who you are.

The easiest way to start Falling in Love With Your Own Legend is to know who you are in simple fact. So I'll sacrifice myself on the alter of privacy and dignity for the purpose of point.

My name is Andrew Christopher Slac. My middle name comes from my late unlce, Chris. I was told that I was named after him so he wouldn't pick on me. It didn't work. He was, to this day, the best live singer I have ever seen. I loved him. He died from a heroine overdose and I suspect it was suicide. I miss him. Sometimes I miss my uncle Craig too, though that's very rare. He wasn't a nice man.

My last name was changed by my grandfather from Slactovski (Slactalski?). I like both.

I am 29 years old and I've done more things that ten people do by the time they're dead. I'm a professional dancer specializing in hip hop, jazz, lyrical, lindy hop and west coast swing. I am good at what I do and I worked hard to be so.

I am 195 pounds, mostly muscle and I'm handsome. I'm not being an asshole or arrogant, I'm just stating a fact that I am attractive. I usually think that I'm strange looking or awkward, though. I have a negative self image but I'm working on it.

My trainer, Aaron Bronstein, is like family. I've known him my entire life. He was my late cousin's, Will's, best friend. Training at his gym (Black Rose Crossfit http://www.blackrosecrossfit.com/) makes me connect not only to him, but to Will as well. I feel at home there. Also: I'm lookin' good these days. Thanks, Aaron!

My eyes are blue. I love my eyes.

My greatest fear is death. I grew up learning and practicing many religions, showing many different possibilities of the afterlife. I fear that there is nothingness. Rephrase: I fear that there is no way yet to know exactly what happens. Sometimes I wake up very afraid thinking about that. I fear losing my parents and my friends but mostly my parents.

I am proud of my beliefs in all facets. I choose not to share them because I figure people will ask me about myself if they're curious. I've been told this is bad business for an artist. I agree.

My greatest love is people. I am fascinated by the human race but I am deeply in love with my friends and loved ones. I've been very lucky to know the people I do. They're all good at something that I suck at, and I'm proud that I can learn from them.

Freedom of speech should never protect those that hurt others because their beliefs are different. Freedom of speech is not freedom to harm. Fuck you if you don't like someone because of their religion, race and so on. You make our species weaker.

My favorite author is Patrick Rothfuss and his series The King-killer Chronicles are my three favorite (soon to be four) books. Read them. http://blog.patrickrothfuss.com/

I was told by two different doctors that if I didn't learn how to relax and destress that I would have a heart attack by 40. I listened. I quit a few jobs because of their advice. I'm already feeling better.

I am drawn to water first, earth second, find comfort in fire and occasionally fear the wind.

My craft, which I've only recently discovered, is blacksmithing. I'm pretty good at it and I look forward to training in it the rest of my life.

I think our penal system is a joke and we should be facilitating a domestic manufacturing market through our prisons while simultaneously training convicts in a skill useful to society.

I am a writer who has written 1 and a quarter books and I'm bitter as all hell that I haven't sold more copies of my first book. I think I can make it better and I know that it wasn't ready, but my impatience breeds self hatred and jealousy that I don't make money off my skills in this way yet.

Taxes are good for the country. Look at Denmark. DENMARK IS DOING IT RIGHT!!! Healthcare and college for everyone!!! You still have to contribute to society and you still can make as much money as you want AND you are taken care of by the government for your work. Win win win win wiNWINWINWINWINWINWINWINWINWINWINWINWIN!!!

This version of myself is the first that doesn't feel lonely. Granted, I do sometimes have those rough days where I think I'll never find that person. Then I get over myself. I have been a serial monogamist from the time I was 12. I'm now single and I'm finally confident in being single, which is to say: I am confident being who I am. It's the first time in my life that I've felt a sense of self worth and independence. My friends help with that, but mostly I'm just able to step back and look at myself with confidence. I have a ways to go to be the man I want to be, but I'm proud of who stares back at me from the mirror.

I'm an open book but I hate selling myself, as it were.

I think that's plenty for now.

You have to know yourself and be willing to talk about yourself. At the very least you need to be able to do so with yourself. You have to be able to take stock of who you are, the things you do for better or worse, the dreams you have and so on, if you ever hope to become greater than you are. You have to be vulnerable to critique so that you can improve who you are now into the person that you wish to become. You might get lucky. You might find everything you want without having to try. Chances are that's bullshit, but if you're so fortunate to have the perfect fate fall into your lap... fuck you and congratulations. Most of us will have to work to be greater.

What I am learning to appreciate is that work. The grind. I'm starting to love it. I'm starting to embrace the path instead of the end. Then again, I'm only now doing the things I truly want to do with my life. I'm moving forward according to what I want to gain. Granted, it took me some time to be at one with my good and bad, to take stock of the man that I was/am/wish to be, but I am on my way.

The key to starting the journey was easy. I got to know who I am, was and dreamed of who I will be. I made a list of who I am, was and wish to be and I picked what was important and what was nothing more than a simple interest. Do it. That's all. Do it. Make a list and learn about yourself. Look inward and then move forward. When you know who you are and the things you've done, the dreams you have, the good and the bad, you can know your story. You must fall in love with your legend if you are to create a tale as grand as you desire.

And now I will drink two more beers and go to Crossfit. Pray for Mojo.

Dancing Kryptonite

My head feels like it's going to explode. I have all this energy and for some reason it's decided to wad itself into what infinitesimal space might be between my skull and brain. (Insert frustrated, grunting yell here)

But I don't want to write about that for two reasons: It's whining and it's boring.

I don't really want to write about any one thing right now. I just like to write and it helps my brain calm down when I have an excess of anxiety going on. Again, don't want to write about that, so moving on.

Instead, I want to write about a shortcoming I have that actually makes me happy. I'm strangely self-conscious in front of a camera when I dance. Not anything else. When it's any other skill I'm comfortable. Dancing just so happens to be the most personal form of expression that I do. There's no hiding. Acting might be me, but it's another version (a whole thing on that some other time). Singing is probably the same as dancing, but I've never allowed anyone to tape me doing so via threat of castration and/or hysterectomy.

That being said, my brilliant friend, Kindell McIntosh, had a few of us get together on a beautiful day and dance for the camera. This was for a school project. We didn't once dance to the song that is behind our moves in the video. Kindell set everything to it thanks to some creative editing.

I love this video for two reasons: My friends are really talented and I'm rather embarrassed watching myself. Let me be clear: I don't hate what I am doing in this video. I just know that I am more talented than how I danced. The reason for my less than average performance is the camera.

Everyone has their kryptonite. The camera weakens me when I dance through no fault of the device. I grew up being told I wasn't good enough in the arts, but so did a lot of people. In every other facet I've placed my willpower, I've taken that ridicule and rendered it fuel. Call it creative alchemy bolstered by an inherent "Fuck You!" that every artists harbors for their negative piers/teachers/reviewers/public. I wonder why the camera makes me so self-conscious. There's no reason it should be any different than someone watching.

You could make the argument that it forces the forever effect, the concept that by recording something it becomes immortal, thus making any possibly humiliation unending. But I don't give a shit what people think about me beyond a passing annoyance. It's something I'm proud of. I get effected by barbs, good old chastising like anyone else, it just doesn't last long. Additionally, I'm lucky to have a support system that keeps me strong when I feel weak.

That's probably it, the forever of it, and the only person's opinion I'm concerned with is my own. So it doesn't make any sense for me to be swayed to the negative when a camera is present, does it?

Here's the easy of it: I don't care how I used to be beyond learning from what I did. Everything I've done has made me who I am. I happen to like who I am these days. Watching old clips of myself doing anything doesn't harm me, it informs me. It's a nice reference point and that's about it.

Writing this, I can see the flaw in my fear of being recorded. There's no need to fear a damn thing if mine is the only opinion I'm worried about. So I suppose I did have a point in writing this.

It's valuable to look at yourself, regardless of what you do. You need a reference point for when you surpass your previous skill level or state of being.

I don't really have anything else on the subject at the moment. I'll put some money in the meter, lay down and read Wise Man's Fear and drift off to much deserved sleep. I'm learning to relax (a whole thing on that later)

Sweet dreams.

Balance and the Understanding, Accepting Asshole

Sometimes I feel like an asshole. I wrote that line and made a face not unlike how you'd scrunch when an acrid scent invades your nose. This isn't meant to be negative, but sometimes I feel like an asshole. Sometimes people are assholes. I feel this is something we can all agree on.

Sometimes I get jealous when my friends would rather do things alone or simply without me. Usually I don't say anything but sometimes I choose a road most travelled by shit, ie. asshole. I act this way due to love and from the want to spend time with people who make my life better. My rational brain, whom I will be referring to as Carl, knows that their time is precious. Carl knows that their time and decisions are their own. Frank, my emotional/irrational side, only sees his friends being taken away from him, if only for a few hours or days. Frank sees rational decisions (the need for rest, spousal companionship, solitary activity) as bad decisions (I used the term "horse-shit" the first time I wrote that sentence).

On the other hand, when Carl sees someone choose the emotional route, he has a similar reaction. I often think that Carl is more judgmental than Frank, but it boils down to both being assholes.

The general state is that these reactions come from positive places, at least for me. I take a great deal of time and focus to study how I am whenever I have the wherewithal to do so. I typically find that I react the way I do out of concern.

Here's a thing I find interesting. Concern, in many cases and especially the one I'm referring to, equates to or leads to worry. Concern, while you could make the argument that it's positive because you're thinking of others or considering other scenarios, is usually not based in compassion. Concern vs compassion. They are different.

Concern contains judgment. Which is totally okay. Again, chances are that you're coming from a positive place. You give a damn about the person/thing/activity and so on that you're concerned about, but it's not compassion.

Compassion was once referred to by a friend of mine (Windom, you're so smart) as radical understanding and acceptance. Compassion, to me, is from the impartial. It doesn't have your interest in mind as the primary engine for decision. Your interests and those of someone else can always align, but it's not required to feel compassion for another person. My hippy side, Frank, likes to lump it in with love. Love is not a rational emotion. Love needs no reason. Love just exists and love accepts and understands, or at least wants to understand.

HOMEWORK: Watch the documentary Happy.

You can make the argument that both Frank and Carl are capable of compassion, but I find compassion to be an example of balance. As compassion is rooted in understanding and acceptance, there is no inherent emotional or rational judgment being made. You are accepting that something is the way that it is, and you are allowing yourself to understand that it is happening and it is most likely out of your control. And maybe that's why I think the way that I do. Anger, jealousy and so on, at least as much I experience them, are rooted in judgement based on a desire to control.

The universe strives for harmony, as far as I am concerned. I feel that things are quite balanced, though they may not seem like it all of the time. I also believe that the universe can be incredibly unbalanced for us as individuals at times (which still means it's balanced as a whole). It's not fair when a cavalcade of bad things happen to us. "When it rains it pours" and all that. It's also the same for when an abundance of good happens.

This bit talks about fairness in both the positive and negative sense. It's not fair to lose a loved one and your job in the same couple of months, but it's happened to many of us (me too). It's also not fair that you would find twenty bucks on the ground, overcome a great obstacle and get your dream job in the same week (not me, but several folks I know. Still haven't found a twenty in the dirt. It'll happen!).

I say these aren't fair because that twenty you just picked might have been some one's lunch cash. Your loved one who passed away might have contributed their organs to save another person's life, or maybe they dove in front of a kid about to be hit by a car and pushed them out of the way.
(disclaimer: I still say you take the money off the ground. There's a greater chance that someone else will pick it up who it didn't first belong to, or more likely that it will be whisked away and ripped up. Take the win)

Universal fairness would mean that everyone would experience the exact same level of good and bad at the exact same time. Balance is not fairness in the universal sense. Sometimes good things happen, sometimes bad. Sometimes you get everything good and another person gets all the bad. It's not fair, but it is balanced.

And there's the fickle nature of things. While something isn't fair for you, it might have lead to the best day ever for someone else. I'm not saying that you should make your life shit for someone else on the infinitesimal chance that it will better their existence. That's just silly. I'm saying that the universe is balanced in both the positive and negative. Through this concept you can begin to understand the people and occurrences around you. I'm not saying you'll like everything that happens in the world, but you can deal with it through compassion. I want to reiterate my stance on compassion (some words in bold face to show importance): You are accepting that something is the way that it is, and you are allowing yourself to understand that it is happening and is out of your control.

Aaaaaaand example time. You go to your favorite coffee shop, but on your way you're almost hit by someone because they're late for work, their rushing and they just didn't have enough fucks to give to drive safely. It happens. You get flustered, you get angry. You then order your coffee but the kid behind the counter doesn't hear you clearly. You're mumbling, still thinking about the dick that nearly hit you in his silverado. The barista asks for your order again and you snap at them. "I said that I wanted a double-venti-no-caff-half-pump-cock-mouth-double-bubble-single-syrup-hayley-joel-osmund-americano!" Little did you know that the barista had just been accepted into College University, his dream school! Asshole. You just ruined their mood because you bled your attitude, your problems on to them.

Another (me...sorry Jenny and Cambrie): You miss your friends when they're not around. I will now be speaking in first person. I miss my friends when they're not around. I'm like that. I train with them most days and then usually we all hang out. So we trained, and then they wanted to go home to be with their significant others and/or study and/or rest and relax before another day at the salt mines. It was a break in my much loved routine. It was hot, I was tired and I was looking forward to recharging with them, and that's all that I could see. I snapped, then playfully ridiculed (like we do), but was more aggressive about it than usual. I caught myself but not before I could see I was making my friends mad. I put my happiness before their well being. Asshole. I apologized. I fucked with their mood because it wasn't my desired outcome. It's out of my control.

Out of your control. That's important. Probably the most important piece of it. You can't control everything, so you have two choices on the raw: fight against an outcome and be an asshole, spending your time and energy trying to change what is happening, or accept it and understand that something is happening outside of your control. You don't have to like it, you just have to admit it's happening and accept it.

Don't get set into one form, adapt it and build your own, and let it grow, be like water. Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless — like water. Now you put water in a cup, it becomes the cup; You put water into a bottle it becomes the bottle; You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend. - Bruce Lee

Sense Memories and All That

It's raining outside, which means I hear Clair de Lune. It's the smell of rain in the trees and on the dirt that reminds me of this song,  but only in the morning/afternoon. I had a habit of listening to classical music on my morning drive to high school. As it is Oregon and I grew up in Sandy, there was plenty of rain. Like clockwork Clair de Lune would come on every morning. It smells and sounds like my morning commute in my childhood. Even when surrounded by noise, screaming even (I live downtown), I still breathe a little easier when it rains because of this.

When I read The White Rose, I hear Chopin. In large part because the stage direction calls for his music specifically. It's my favorite play. I can't read or hear the lines from it without hearing them backed by ballade number 1 in g. Hearing it fills me with pride for something I was a part of and something that can transport me to another place so effortlessly.







Whenever I eat bread and drink coffee I feel like I'm reading The King-killer Chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss. http://www.patrickrothfuss.com/content/books.asp
I spent hours at my favorite diner, Jam on Hawthorne, reading the first book. I ordered the same meal, Brian's Hash add spinach and avocado w/ rye toast and jam, and always a cup of bottomless coffee. I always have the same waitress/bartender, Patty.

Reading any work by Rothfuss, his blog included: I can taste coffee and bread and smell a fresh plate of eggs and hash-browns.







When I play the game-series Ratchet and Clank, I hear the album The Carnival by Wyclef Jean. Usually Yele more than anything. I listened to that CD almost exclusively while I grinded for sewer gems in game two and three. I can't not hear it whenever I boot it up and it's especially loud during any remotely underground scene.


When I listen to the Alabama Shakes I think about my father and Molly for their first album, Boys and Girls. Molly suggested them and Pop and I jammed to them. I think of Kindell whenever I hear their second album, Sound and Color, especially the title track. I got her the vinyl of it. It's my absolute favorite CD. It just barely edges out Justin Timberlake's 20/20 experience 1 and 2, and that's saying something, lemme tell ya.

Maybe that's where I should go with this post? Sound and Color? There are so many things that fill us or take from us but always remind us of this and that, that at one point or another, has rooted itself into who we are. Sometimes it's mild and small, like remembering the smell of breakfast. Sometimes it's big, like making you feel like your closest people are behind you when there's only you in the room. Sometimes it's bigger, like remembering terrible things when you hear a happy song. I remember being fired from my childhood dream job while hearing Express Yourself and dancing to it after a great week working at a summer camp.

Side: I was called into the admin office just as the song ended and was then fired. The person implicating me wasn't even strong enough to show up to the firing (may you rot in Hell). That's a whole other post filled with much needed catharsis. Hearing that song reminds me of how I was bullied in that job, how unfairly I was treated, and how I was flat out told that I was... how did she put it? Useless. But again, that's another post.

Sometimes the things we experience via sense memory were once devastating, like when you hear your song with your big ex. Winter by Joshua Radin for me. The second is usually I Remember You by Nat King Cole. It reminds me of good things from college.

Sometimes the things that should wreck you, instead make you smile. Hearing Have You Seen Her by the Chi-Lights was playing when my Dad had his first heart attack and had to go to the hospital in the morning light. When I hear it I'm reminded of how strong he is, and kind.

When I hear Let it Be by the Beatles, I think about my late-cousin, Will. He recorded his 10 year old self singing that and made a cassette of it. I found it and made it digital. It's got all the good feels.

Sometimes it's the tiny things that fill you with the greatest memories. For me it's usually food.

"Artisanal pizza" will always remind me of being in Auze France and Herrang Sweden. It will always make me think of my friends Mike and Emily Lenneville. We travelled and trained there together. Some of my favorites stories and most powerful memories are with those two.

Any kind of soup reminds me of my childhood home. I feel like that's the case for a lot of people. It's a comfort food, it's simple, and for me I feel safe when I eat it. It quiets my mind and I'm taken back to my parents home and the wonderful silence that surrounds you. It's reassuring.

Pride - This Isn't Even My Final Form!

I saw a version of myself sitting across from me this morning. I didn't pay him any attention. I was reading, after-all, and enjoying a favorite breakfast and book. I couldn't ask me to leave either, as I was me and I am very attached to myself whether or not I want a particular me staring back at me.

I wasn't saying anything or prodding in any fashion, I was just watching me read, eat and sip. I wasn't being rude, quite the opposite, I was the perfect gentleman. I was making myself uneasy, though. It's not my fault, it's just unnerving when you have some-one staring at you, especially when it's you.

I didn't know what version of me it was at first. I thought it might be past me. Past Me is a good enough guy, a little afraid of a few things and very self-conscious. A pushover in certain things and rarely proud but always supportive. It couldn't have been him, because he would have tried to fix me.

I went through the other me(s) it could be and I could take the time to spell out how I was at various points in life or will be, but it's easier to say that it was current me. It was the me that woke up today and realized how many things I have done in my life, great and small, positive and negative but mostly positive. The me looking at me was proud of me.

Everyone has mild out of body experiences every now and again. It's hard to explain unless you've felt it, but I like to think of it as those times when you can see yourself in third person. I experience that frequently and I spend a large amount of time hovering above myself, taking note on my "this and that."

It felt good to be able take in that I was proud of myself.

Pride is typically a foreign concept to me when it is about me. By no means am I against myself or the things that I have done. I have fears and insecurities, sure, but I am still proud of the things I have done, the life I've lived. By the time I was 20, I had done more than most do in their entire lives. I have pride in that. But pride in simply myself is a recent development. I only became aware of this feeling this morning, Monday, June 1st, 2015 at roughly 10am.

Disclaimer: This isn't to say that I am not proud of what I have done. It's just new to live in the here and now and be proud of myself in the moment.

I find it both appropriate and emboldening that I would notice this on my father's birthday (Happy Birthday, Pop!). An added bonus.

I always found pride to be a positive. I'm talking about pride, not arrogance. There's a difference between the two that is a frequently blurred and often negotiated line. I'm talking about the ability to recognize that you are good at something on your own, and that your skill or achievement makes you happy or fulfilled or in some other way: powerful. It's not arrogance, where you feel power through thinking you're better than someone else.

Pride is confidence, arrogance is fear. But that's another soap-box.

My pride is usually found in my loved ones and mentors. I typically live vicariously through them to feel strong. That's dependence. Dependence can be positive, and can be associated with pride, but pride in one's self is obviously from the self, not another. Duh.

In nerd-culture, there is something called a "boss" and therein a "boss-battle." Still with me? In said
boss-battle, it's really common for said boss to go through several forms or modes during your tussling with them. The first is usually small, something manageable and humanoid. The second is typically a grandiose, often monstrous version of the previous. The third, if and when there is a third, is smaller form, though this form is even stronger than the monster that it previously appeared as. The third form, or "final form," is the strongest version of this boss. This form is trimmed down, streamlined, removed of the ornamental trappings that made it previously intimidating. It's new form is greater than it's previous version due to the focus and condensing of it's power. It doesn't need the wings and demon horns and massive god-killing cannon that it once possessed. It can pierce heaven with it's pinky if it wanted, so what use does it have for the Sword of Damocles as it's left leg?

I use this as an allegory for self. As you become stronger, more focused, you shed the pomp that you previously held on to. You no longer need to have six jobs or hold on to that thing you did once in high-school or hold a mental list of the people you've banged. The world becomes simpler as you simplify and you become greater because of that. Focus can allow you to become a master, to achieve a greater form than you woke up with that morning.

Argument: Yes, I know that not every boss battle follows that same progression. Sometimes it is the giant monster that is the final form. In that case, it is usually a team of heroes or one hero that is refined in a particular skill set to best benefit the team/situation who defeats this monster. It's usually thanks to skills obtained through focus and hard work and specialization (the healer, the warrior, the mage etc). Sometimes the hero becomes a monster to defeat a monster. That is focus as well. We learn from our challenges, taking on aspects of them and become greater than the things that challenge us. We are still ourselves, but we have gained strength through our focus to learn and overcome these trials.

"I fear not the man who has practice 10,000 kicks once. But I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times." - Bruce Lee

An open mind and enthusiasm will cause you to try everything. It will lead you to the things you truly love and will show you the path that best suits you. Confidence will allow you to try, succeed and fail and grow, which will build you stronger, time and again. It will allow you to find what it is that you are brilliant at or what makes you feel strong and good. From there, focus will refine you. It will help you become greater than you were. There is no sense in limiting yourself in the things you try, but there is less sense in never exploring the depths of your potential in the things that you experience passion.

When you get down to it, everyone has the potential to become brilliant. It is a matter of discovering what it is that you're good at and/or what it is that brings you joy. When you've found these, sink your time and effort into those things. It doesn't matter if it's an activity, a thing, a person, a philosophy, a religion, a version of  yourself and so on. If it brings you joy and allows you to feel pride, then it's worth your time. Take that time. You owe it to yourself and to those who are lucky enough to know you.

Level Up/The Plateau

I don't know what to do with my excess energy these days. I learn something new everyday, I train, I sleep well, eat well and do the things that I want to do. What the fuck is the source of this energy? Wait, I'd rather know what to do with it. Redundant question: What do I do with my excess energy? It's a tad frustrating.

I had a friend some time ago (or some guy/girl I knew. I think he was a friend) tell me that excess energy, when it becomes frustration, is a sign that you are unfulfilled. I didn't agree with them whole-heartedly at the time, and I don't really now, but maybe there is something to that. Why be frustrated if you're doing the things that make you feel strong or relaxed? The thing is: I feel like I'm doing the right things, the things I'm good at, but I still have this irritating knot in the center of my brow. I wonder why that is?

I'm less inclined to believe it's a case of being unfulfilled. It feels more like a need to level up, so to speak.

I need to improve. It's a positive anxiety. For as long as I can remember, I was steadily improving in everything I did. I've come to a pretty pronounced slow-down.

The feeling must be the plateau, the inevitable place you get to where progress evens-out and your gains are not as dramatic. I'm not going for arrogance here, but I am a stranger to the plateau. I work hard and train and research and listen to those greater than me in order to improve and be better than I was five seconds ago. I've always gained quickly and regularly. Redundant statement: I'm new to the plateau.

I so badly want to exist in an RPG (role playing game). Hello, my name is Andrew and I am a nerd. I say this due to many things, mostly the leveling up, the tangible representation of immediate growth and change. I'm impatient and improvement hungry. I wonder if that's because I play video games, or why I do.

There are services that work for people, many of which I've tried, that attempt to replicate role playing elements (fitocracy and habit rpg for example). They're great. But I want a real life rpg.

The plateau doesn't exist in as black and white form in said genre. When you hit max level or even just get into a rut mid-game, you can go do side-quests and collect loot and etc (yes, I see the allegory for life. I know. I'll get back to work in a minute, but I'm bitching for now. Catharsis and all that).

I'm stoked as all hell for google glass or some facsimile to allow for ARG (augmented reality gaming). I hear we're getting holograms from microsoft in little over a fortnight... Also this lady >





Who I'm pretty sure is ending up like the following on your various electronic devices:

I vote sexy hologram lady over something vaguely hal-like, but maybe that's just me. 2001...go watch it. You'll understand why. Also, I'm pretty sure she calls you chief. Which is just cool. Let me be clear: I by no means have dom/sub fantasies, military relationship fantasies in which you break rank or anything. I also have no problems with, and have a huge love for, badass titles. Again: nerd.

If I could live in a semi-fantasy world where I could slay a goblin and collect the spoils of my conquest, I would. If I could blacksmith talons of a great dragon or artifice magical items for me and mine, I would. The Matrix? Not such a bad idea! Maybe less human farming though (or none...none is good). The holo-deck would be better, obviously.

The world we live in is beautiful, endlessly inspiring... but I want to shoot a fireball out of my hand! Don't you?

Imagine rolling down the street in your Honda and... what's that I see above? A level 12 harpy? Well shit and shazaam! You take aim with the flat of your palm, mutter some incantation (or not) and then BOOSH! A gem falls, or maybe a pinion, perhaps a reward screen pops up with your well-gotten gains in loot!

You'd better believe that the second something resembling the Full-Dive (http://swordartonline.wikia.com/wiki/FullDive) exists, I'm dropping my life-savings into it and riding that virtual adventure for all it's worth.

Until then, I will go on a walk, listen to my soundtrack (today it's Con Bro Chill http://conbrochill.com/), do my day job, dance, try to relax and... You know, I'm writing this and it leads me here: Maybe the plateau isn't so bad!

I had never thought about this before, but could the plateau be a place for you to take stock of where you are? A mental break from the uphill growth section of your life that allows you to process and evaluate said process? Fuck! That's good stuff right there!

Maybe it's a place that you can walk softly and test out your new abilities/knowledge in a safe environment within before taxing yourself further.

I realize that many of you have probably already come to this conclusion. You're awesome. It's new for me.

The plateau can allow you to rest. Holy sweet mother of all that's grand and beautiful. I like that. Rest. The plateau can be your vacation. It can be your escape from your self-imposed regimen that we all take too seriously at one point or another.

Well then. I have nothing left to say. I am satisfied. I still would like to live in a more nerd-based, rpg inclined universe, though. Yeah... that'd be cool.