What does it all mean?

The Cubs came back from 3-1 and won the World Series. The Cavs came back from 3-1 and won the NBA Championships. It's incredibly amazing and incredibly nonsensical.

Things don't make sense anymore.

It's still the Year of Mercy. Perhaps that's the point. Mercy doesn't have to make sense. Life is the game you're currently losing but you can come back and win. Maybe it's not too late.

The anti-hero?

So today I finally watched Deadpool and I loved it.

I remember watching the trailers for it way before it came out in theaters. I refused to watch it. I never really was into the whole X-men "superhero" genre. I lost track of the franchise; they kept making more movies with new characters, which I never would watch on time, and I eventually got left behind and I figured it's not worth watching the new ones because I wouldn't appreciate all the details having not watched the entire franchise movies prior.

Then comes Deadpool, breaking the fourth wall, serving as an example of another "super hero"  in the franchise.  He didn't charm me in the trailers. I'm like "that's not what a super hero should be". I judged the book by its cover.

Now having watched it, it's still clear that he's not quite a superhero, and I still don't think he's someone to emulate. But he's something else -- an antihero. And having the movie shown in quasi-first person, undependable, Notes from the Underground narrator style was a good move. He has a story. He found love. He was a desperate. He does a lot of bad shit, but generally for his love.

Deadpool in the movie says something along the lines of I'm a bad guy, who just beats up the worse guys. His humor was pretty catharsis enabling, too -- especially at times when he would point out the absurd notions: "Why do I only ever see you two [referring to Colossus and Negasonic], it's like the production couldn't afford another X-men".  His freak physical deformity post-mutation is real telling, too.

I get why the movie was a hit. Perhaps it's because that's pragmatically the closest we could ever get to being a real hero (super or not)... an anti-hero.

Then I thought about Flannery O'Connor's short stories. How each character had a flaw; no character was perfect. O'Connor uses of the grotesque (that's a technical term) Southern gothic:

“Whenever I'm asked why Southern writers particularly have a penchant for writing about freaks, I say it is because we are still able to recognize one. To be able to recognize a freak, you have to have some conception of the whole man, and in the South the general conception of man is still, in the main, theological. That is a large statement, and it is dangerous to make it, for almost anything you say about Southern belief can be denied in the next breath with equal propriety. But approaching the subject from the standpoint of the writer, I think it is safe to say that while the South is hardly Christ-centered, it is most certainly Christ-haunted. The Southerner, who isn't convinced of it, is very much afraid that he may have been formed in the image and likeness of God. Ghosts can be very fierce and instructive. They cast strange shadows, particularly in our literature. In any case, it is when the freak can be sensed as a figure for our essential displacement that he attains some depth in literature.”

― Flannery O'Connor, Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose

Obviously, though, the full picture is that we are called for more. Fallen though we may be at times, even the anti-hero can pull heroic moves, then the rest is up for God to judge.  Somewhere between Colossus (unbreakable heroism) and Deadpool (the anti-hero)... we may very well fluctuate. It's scary. But we're not alone. Let the anti-hero in us move ever towards right side of that hyphen.

The Truth of Our Sadness

It's really hard to pinpoint the nexus of our dark side.
The side of us which we build walls around.
The side of us we think would scare people if they ever knew.
The side the demons taunt.

Our vulnerable side.  Our weak side.

But I know.
It's all I know now.

It's the side of us
That's sad
Sad at this idea
"I'm all alone"

Sad because
After all our efforts
We can't find anyone
Who can love us
Exactly the way we want

So this sad side
Begins to love itself
And builds ivory walls around itself.
And creates fake smiles to guard it from others.
It creates its own fortress of understanding for itself.
So strong and thick is its threshold it even forgets its there.

And if it never realizes its own reality...
And never meets the Love for which it yearns...
Even if this interior sadness is surrounded with every possesion it wants
Even if this interior sadness has found who it thinks is the love of its life
It'll still be sad.
It'll die sad.

Notes from the Bottom

"O matter and impertinency mixed! Reason in madness!" - Edgar, King Lear

I get why people become cold and bitter.

Just like the trope that says staunch atheists were once very religious people, perhaps the most ruthless, cold-hearted people were once actually the kindest people on earth -- the kind who did things for people without expecting anything in return, the kind who would put others before themselves.

They simply found that in their most dire of circumstances, no one would lend the kind of understanding, help, and support they offered people.  Being the nicest person made it difficult to find others who were as nice. They asked, people offered what they could and it would always fall short in comparison. Maybe to compare in the first place was their actual downfall. I guess you could blame them for that. But being in a bad place already, this only exacerbated what was already a sad disposition: a pretty self-destructive Molotov-cocktail.

Something that amazes me is the Year of Mercy Jubilee prayer we pray at the end of Mass.

"...You willed that your ministers would also be clothed in weakness 

in order that they may feel compassion for those in ignorance and error:"

 Well, may weakness not be our undoing. Lord, mercy.

SF again?

The past three weeks have been pretty hectic. At least in my universe. Well, the presidential debate was pretty insane in mostly all our universes but I digress. I've been traveling to SF a lot. Thrice in the past week and a half.  Is that a lot? I don't know.  Probably.  Feels like a lot though. That's good though, because that means they've been memorable trips. Memories appreciate. That's good. Well, at least the good ones do.

Currently writing this blog in SF. Didn't see that one coming... haha.

I'd just like to restate my belief in miracles.  I was walking a thin line.  And I fell. But I was caught. Yes, by God. The atheists laugh. I laugh at gilded butterflies.  Now how do I properly say thanks for a miracle? Climb back onto that thin line (NOT a cocaine line for you close readers). Try again. Hopefully not fall again. But if I did it's okay. Miracles happen... twice? Thrice? Maybe not. No worries, I had my run. I'm due. Let's do this.

Pride, status, and shame

Yes, all in one blog.

Currently drinking deleteriously expensive yet indescribably delicious coffee.  Still cheaper than a drink at some dive bars, especially given the development of the new Golden 1 arena downtown.  To each one's own, I guess. There's always a rationalization for ones own expenses -- better yet, when said rationalization is dependent on the (even perceived) perception of another person.  That being said, is there a price point for authenticity?  It would seem that even if there was one it would be dictated by the market in some way, shape, or form.

As for shame, it truly isn't a construct in a vacuum.  I can be ashamed of myself.  Indeed, many times I am ashamed of myself. Yet, this is only magnified by how I perceive other would view my situation. Perhaps even more so, how I perceive God would view my actions (I tend to err on the side of a deprecated view, which I would probably agree upon).  But here's the thing about shame, in spite of its connected nature: there's a ground to its depression.  Unlike pride, its eventually satiated.  Pride always asks for more, shame -- never, and it can end only in one of two ways: ultimate self-destruction or humility.

Having no shame really is bad.

My light

Oh Light of mine
Don't stop shining, don't stop
Being, don't stop
Trying to make the world beautiful
There's not much time left
And what time is left is dreary
When I wake up there's monotony
In my schedule when I try to
Fix things they fall apart
And I'm left trying things over
That won't seem to go
I try believing in my tiredness
Thinking I can overcome an abyss
alone and scared
But what I really need is help
But not help that would bother you
Or take away from your radiance
(Though yours seems perpetual)
Rather just a ray in my direction
Sometimes I think I'm too deep
Too far from you, enclosed
Too trapped, in my worries
Too helpless to be helped
Yet a single spark
(and only you seem to do it)
Though ephemeral, though swift
My iconic memory is triggered
The place is made visible
Long enough to consider
A plan to extricate myself
From my web of distress
And a hope is there
That was wasn't there before
and I can see myself in your light
If I could just keep you with me
But that's not your role
For I'm sure others need you too
But for a moment I consider
What that could be like
Being, in happiness, with you
My light

Raison d'être

(Just casually using French expressions ya know coz why not. That and I can't wait to visit France again)

The past couple of weeks has given me both time to think of my current situation and time to keep it out of my head. Both has been helpful. I've had time away from some troubles which has given me extra time in my day. I've done other things as well to keep me occupied, a lot of work hours, other hobbies, etc., as a break to pass time. What hasn't been helpful is doing both things at once.

It's hard to think of my situation in a light beyond the meaning I ascribe to it, keeping in mind my absurdist background, but, like how the earth was created, you can either put a circle around a dot or realize the dot within the canvas. In reality, I'm a painter and my life is a painting and the decision I have to make is to allow the Master painter to guide my brush or tell Him to back off while I make my own art.

Here's the real impetus for this blog:
Today, I felt the pang (which I now consider a blessing) of that damn thought --"what do I do now?". It echoed all throughout me. It was also very brief, since my body and mind quickly thought of other things as an answer, but it confronted me, stunned me momentarily. What an exquisite pain.

It may be a good thing. It may be a bad thing. But one thing it was for sure was a burning thought and I was really exposed to myself for a moment. Hopefully the next time till it comes, I can give answer to that thought that I feel sure, happy, and content about.

Trying new things

It's nice to get lost in the present.  Plans don't always work out.  The past is filled with mistakes. Tough. So whether it's choosing to live in the present or being forced to do so to stay sane... enjoy it.

Had a sweet Friday yesterday. Met this lovely woman @lissaucy for some end-of-the-week celebratory Italian gelato :)

Optical illusion with scale... my gelato cup is actually larger than hers.

Afterwards, found out through a simple Google search of downtown event's about a live-music performance at a coffee shop (how perfect?) near the capital.  Chance had it the lovely Jessica Malone was performing. Heard some of her music through her website and had to go.  Venue: quaint and cozy. Coffee? Temple. Music? Awesome. Jessica has a new fan :)

The next day, work prompted me to drive over. On the way unfortunately, got into a car accident on the freeway! Hit from the back while at a full traffic stop (I hate traffic).  Glad everyone involved was okay. Just not a good look for my car. But thank God. Mama Mary was protecting me, I feel. I usually say my rosaries on the drives to and from work. Rosaries were key. Went home and iced up. Now writing this blog to Jessica's music after eating a scoop of ube ice cream.  Thinking now of changing the blog layout, it's been years. Yeah, let's change the layout :)

Perks of an Existentialist

I don't know why I haven't considered this kind of blog before... There are so many ways I can consider this idea, and from so many vantage points! From a nihilist-leaning existentialist perspective! From a Christian-existentialist (a la Kierkegaard) perspective! From a modern-existentialist... The list goes on.

Firstly, I'd like to clarify that there are definitely cons to being an existentialist. A appetite for risk and a disillusionment towards social mores is definitely a potent mixture for questionable behavior. I digress.

This is definitely a working blog though as there are many pros:
1. An open mind, specifically one detached from tradition/consensus.
2. A skeptical, therefore scientific, mind.
3. Both a nonchalant and exuberant joie de vivre.
...

Old people

Let tears for him therefore be all our treasure,
And in our wailful naming him our pleasure;
Let hating of ourselves be our affection,
And unto death bend still our thoughts' direction.
Let us against ourselves employ our might,
And putting out our eyes seek we our light. - Philip Sidney, "Arcadia"

I've been thinking a lot about what kind of old person I want to be.

I want to be that old person who's attending daily Mass, walking down the aisle with a cane and making his way to communion. I want to be that old person who tells stories around the dinner table, especially stories of his parents and grandparents and their lives to his grandchildren. I want to be that old person who reads books all day and smokes cigars at night, cigars that were aged in a humidor with a key and kept at a consistent humidity level.  I want to be that old person who's still working because he wants to.  I want to be that old person with a great love story.

Oh well

I find myself wanting to write something, and I think I have thoughts that would be helpful.  But I can't write them. Something's stopping me, whether if its myself or my situation I haven't decided yet. It takes a lot of effort to write, you know. 

It's as if the part of me that naturally wants to help, there's not enough impetus to let it take over and do what it does. Maybe for once I'm suppressing it in hopes of that helpful nature of mine would stop helping others, in the hopes that it would help itself. Because I could use help too, ya know. 

Oh well, if the zeitgeist is "IDGAF" then, why not? Maybe some schadenfreude would be good for me, after all (two German words? Niiice).  Lol. ahhh I know, this is a bad way to be...

No worries. It's just a thought.

"Why?"

"Why" things happen to us, that's a hard question to answer.

But "Why" we do things shouldn't be.

What fascinates me is that in poker, there's usually a game plan to follow. But most, if not all, of these game plans depend on the situation.  There is no set-in-stone rule of thumb. There's definitely mathematical reasons for doing somethings, and you'd be wise to follow them, but these often don't turn out as expected. In fact, computational game play is only most successful in the long run. In the short-term, anything is possible.

But what strikes me most is the sage advice "whatever you do, always have a reason for doing so. Be able to ask yourself why you're doing something. That's the most important thing".

And, like how poker is life, that's true in life as well.  As long as you have a reason for doing something, at least have a reason. It may very well be a bad reason. But at least you thought about it and can answer "why" for yourself.

Finding a happy place

As an ardent T.S. Eliot fan (my Facebook "about me" section honors his Prufrock and I'm currently reading a biography about him), I've always been fascinated by this quote attributed to him (in Chestertonian-esque fashion):

"Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things" - T.S. Eliot  [italics added for emphasis]

An escape...

Up until now, I experienced poetry more as a "turning loose of emotion" rather than "an escape". Something to which I can let go of everything. But recent events have proved the dichotomy both true (take that, Nobel laureate T.S. Eliot!)

The past couple of days I've discovered a newfound escape: driving through vineyards. I never thought I could ever feel so much peace while driving. All of the worries I had just faded away for about an hour. Especially at dawn during sunset. Breathtaking. I definitely think a huge part of it though was that it reminded me of my time driving through the vineyards of Southern France two summers ago (and who's to say that Californian vineyards don't match!?). Regardless, the vineyards were captivating, like a painting. God's artwork.

Of course, this isn't the only escape I have. Being in Adoration (see link above), praying the rosary, listening to good music, drinking awesome coffee at a cafe, and playing poker affect me similarly. These are my escapes.

Back to T.S. Eliot.  Yes, "my emotions and personality", things which I often expressed in my poetry were things I recently wanted to escape from. Personality flaws and sad emotions caused by mistakes I've made put me currently into a tough situation. And I wished I could escape from it... and I did. Those vineyards helped, even for just a little time.

It's an incredible thing, escaping, even for just a moment. The tough part is coming back.  I've realized that these escapes, while incredibly helpful, could also be harmful (with the exception of Adoration and prayer -- the reason being, of course, is that these are pure, divine escapes, devoid of any negative drawback). I'm starting to believe that for each of us, we have our own ways of escaping our difficult moments, our "happy places", given to us to use for the sake of staying stable by God. But we shouldn't escape forever. We have to come back... to our problems... to our unfortunate circumstances... renewed by our break. Or else we end up like Rip van Winkle. That's not good.

Pretty glad that I like that, that I like driving through vineyards. It makes me look forward to doing a little more traveling... and wine drinking :)

Maximizing Investments on Facebook

Today I was on Facebook, as I'm sure many people are, and read a post about an old friend who is currently going through a hard time. It was a very articulate post; at its end, I felt sad for my friend and wanted to reach out to this person. But then I thought:

1. Is this person really my friend? Not really. I mean, we shared some memories years ago, over eight years ago to ballpark it, and we haven’t talked since. This person doesn’t know much about me besides what I’ve posted on Facebook, and that’s assuming this person has even given my posts the time of day. This concept of a Facebook “friend” is interesting. Just a simple “add", then this person becomes your “friend”. I have over a thousand. But out of these friends, how many actually cared for me through my struggling times? Nada. None. Zero. Either the threshold level of “friend” is very low, or we’re kidding ourselves. I’d hope it’s the latter. Anyways, so what function do they serve? At best, they’re my audience. An audience I can boast to. Or, like my aforementioned friend, an audience to express my sadness to. Mostly to receive some passive supportive feedback (i.e. a “like”), or even some rebuke to which I can refute (we’re in the age of “you can’t invalidate my feelings”).  This is simply entertainment and distraction away from my actual life and worries. I shy away from these types of posts now. I prefer not to post of my struggles (like anyone could or tries to alleviate them) nor post of my success (like my recent promotion at work – yet I’ll make an exception for family to whom I want to share pivotal moments, like my college graduation). I prefer instead to pose questions and ask for opinions. This is the best I can receive from my Facebook friends. Sometimes, some opinions are actually helpful.

2. Say I did reach out to this person. Perhaps I “liked” the post to commiserate and show solidarity. Perhaps I went a little further and wrote sympathetic reply to the post. What did I accomplish? I can write pretty words. And I even meant the words that I wrote. But as soon as I scroll down on the feed, my mind is elsewhere. Elsewhere amidst my other thousands of friends. My old friend becomes just another post lost in my working memory. Perhaps an afterthought over dinnertime. I don’t think my reply really helped my friend. I think all it did was help me: I received my maximum on investment. I spent the less amount of effort and received the most amount I could receive in value – the thought that “I’m a good caring person”. I also diminished any feelings of guilt that I would have had if I ignored my friend. We’re feeding ourselves again (see previous post). How self-serving of me. And the scary thing is I most likely wouldn’t have even known that I was being self-serving. Even scarier, I can do the same routine over and over again to other “friends” reaping all the return at a minimum.

3. Of course, 1 and 2 are moot if I actually cared more about the other person than myself. I can use Facebook to lift others up instead of myself. This requires me to go beyond what the other 84 likers are doing. This requires me to connect to that person whom I choose to connect to. To physically do more than just type on a computer screen. To call up my old friend and actually offer tangible help besides a Facebook post. You see, often times atheists would criticize religious for offering “prayers”. Yet, this charade of investing little effort and receiving maximum return on Facebook is in effect the same thing: offering little help to the person in need while actually serving myself and downplaying any guilt. Support is helpful, you say? Sincere solidarity is a good thing? ... You might as well have said a prayer. I would have preferred the prayer. 

We feed

We feed ourselves. We feed ourselves full.
In fact, more often than not, we overfeed ourselves.
We're gluttonous.
But much worse with rhetoric than with food.

How much we prefer familiarity than the unknown. It's like our survival instinct is going against us: we're too afraid to be wrong. No one wants to be wrong. No one wants to even consider it. Maybe they'll think of it for a second. But arguments, the most important ones, are dynamic, changing, and need a lot of time and evidence to adequately discern (this of course is subjective -- we can't be too sure, yes, and we can definitely be too ignorant).

I remember a priest who once criticized another priest who was also an exorcist. To the priest, the exorcist seemed to always see the devil everywhere, the devil's hand in everything. The priest claimed the exorcist could no longer make sensible comments, since the glasses through which the exorcist saw the world was always colored by his specialist as an exorcist.

But what if the exorcist was right?

Yes, some people are stuck playing the victim, never taking the blame. One could say they never take any responsibility. Yes, some people are proudly, arrogantly selfish -- they actually think they made it all by themselves.

Oh when worldviews collide.

Perhaps the winner, like in poker, is the one who simply shows the most aggression.

How we live and die...

So, another quote from where I can't find (even with Google's help) the sayer (not verbatim but I'll put quotes anyways):

"As a Christian, the way we live is important. Also important, even more so, is the way we die" - Probably a saint)

This weekend's Memorial Day weekend. A chance to honor those who sacrificed their life for our country. A noble thing we did, to have the day off, to remember, to give thanks.

You see the thing is, back in day (like, prehistoric times), people were only concerned (probably) with the basic necessities of life. Being able to just stay alive, to see tomorrow alive, that was their goal. Now, I'll argue its a bit more complicated. Sure basic needs must be met, duh. But there's layers and layers beyond that of things we may not even be aware of (ended with a preposition, whatever). For example, see Maslow's hierarchy. What I'm trying to say is, there are a lot more things now that we have to worry about than just physically dying -- perhaps the most important thing to realize is that death itself isn't even strictly physical anymore.

For the longest time, I have always known that death is more of a continuum than an either/or state. Just like life and living is a continuum (popularized in the famous Nicki Minaj song ft. Drake "Cause everybody dies but not everybody lives). You can sort of die and not really die. Far end: physical death. In the middle, a person can die a more nuanced death... internal death, emotional death, character death. There's incremental stages to death.

Problems fall under this category. Thing like drug addiction, gambling addiction, sexual addiction, etc. These are things that actually hurt you on the inside. You're changed (or, at least, a part of you is changed -- see previous blog on "fractured selves").

Here comes the kicker: how you face these problems is not only a statement on how you handle the way you live -- it's also a statement on how you handle the way you die. And, as said in the aforementioned quote, it's important how you die. Why? Because, just as how people can imitate (out of inspiration, etc) the way you live, one could also look up to how the way you die.

PS: I'm tempted to consider the continuum of life/death as one scale on which one side is more alive and the other is more dead rather than two dimensions. But the idea that we can have fractured selves opens the door to the idea that one can have some selves more alive/dead than the other selves.

Summary: basically, now, staying alive is more than just an eat, breathe, and exercise thing.

Two blogs in one day?

Why not? I haven't written two blogs in one day in a long time.... perhaps never. But hey, I got a lot of free time today, so why not? It's enjoyable on a day off  (yeah I work on Saturdays).

Social media, data, and modeling (kind of essay-ish):
So we have 140 characters in Twitter. A status update on Facebook. A picture on Instagram. I write blogs on Blogspot. Here's the thing, I remember starting my blogspot as a way of chronicling my life as a cohesive unit. Kind of like a real journal. But I never realized this. Looking back on all of my blogs, sure, sometimes there was some semblance of a narrative. But for the most part, it's severely fractured. Which, if you didn't already know, is a very real modern thing. Disjointed events. Vignettes of lives. Our brains naturally try to configure a story that makes sense from all of our "updates". I have reason to think these conjectures aren't very accurate. Consider this: I can post a relatively happy tweet, but can actually be having the worst day of my life. You would never know. It's the stories we sell that create an artificial self. The real kicker is that it may not even be an artificial self that I'm creating by posting a happy tweet in a sad state;  I could still very well be happy that moment and still be living the worst day of my life. What I do is create a second-self. Not a lie, just not the whole truth. A disjointed, second self.

What's more, social media doesn't help that much, either. I'm forced to be brief -- it induces the fractures. It feeds into this modern, fractured way of living. Sure you can try to be cohesive. But it's so much easier to be brief (disguised as "simple"?). Oh I can post this now and explain later. I have to be real-time. Says the pressure to stay up to date. Says the pressure to boast, to show everyone I'm okay right now. Sooner or later, we start liking the convenience of not being a whole. Of course, people should be free to sell whatever self they want on social media. The irony is that sometimes we can't even recognize the self we sell. Until we have to pick up the pieces of ourselves and try to make sense of them. Realizing we can't make any sense of such a fractured mess. We're disjointed wholes, a lot of us are. I've become one, too. The trappings of modern life.

Again, not that any or all of this is bad, per-se. But it sure is confusing sometimes. And whatever story you feed yourself  about yourselves, that's the story that keeps you going. Again though, however, sooner or later, we all have to face ourselves.

In the moment

I heard it said once that "...in the moment, we have all we need to be happy...". It was a saint who said this, I believe. I can't remember who said it exactly and I wish I knew. It's an amazing thought, to think that in every moment, we have all we need to be happy. 

I'm going to try that thought out.
--- ---
I wonder what was happening when van Gogh painted The Starry Night. What made him go to that vista? Was he alone? Was he lonely? Was he thinking "Oh I have nothing to do today, thinking about another landscape painting". Did he think it'd be worth so much money in the future? Did it make him happy?  (All this assuming it took him one shot to paint it, which I don't think it did).

--- ---
So this one time at the tables, I was UTG with pocket aces. I had about 45 BB behind. I raised four times the big blind. Probably the best scenario for a short stack. Action folded to the button, who called. Villain in the SB reraised to 8 times the big blind. Hell. Yes. I 4-bet all in. Button, after thinking for like a minute throws his cards into the muck. SB, thinks... calls. He had me covered. We show our hands and go to the flop.

AA vs 99
Flop: 3 7 T rainbow
... okay, not bad.
Turn: Kh
... YES, now just had to fade the river.
...
...
River: 9


.... Wow. That's some Aristotelian catharsis for you.

And hilarity ensues

Lol, for some reason it seems like my blogs have been a lot on the downer side these days. Or at least for the last year. I'm not sure if I can extrapolate for its entirety, but I'm sure there's some discernible weaved thread that agrees.

"Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important". - C. S. Lewis

Often times I get bogged down in the details, sometimes the whole. A lot of emphasis these days is based in subtle things, for example: microaggressions. Well, if C.S. Lewis is right, which I think he is, and if Christianity is true, then it follows that every little thing that happens matters: microdecisions and microevents.

The Creator of the universe, then, His will unravels in everything, every little thing, that happens. And in the long run, it's for our good.

A couple of weeks ago, my laptop was stolen from me. It's made me really sad. A lot of poems in there, a lot of things really. I've had it for about two years....

Holding on for better times. Turning 25 in about two weeks!

Stewing in the Chaos

A big portion of scientific research depends on modeling.  Working on the periphery of academia, that's more than clear. The irony is that while much of my time has been filled with scientific quantitative modeling (I'm currently reading two texts on statistics and practicing a lot of Matlab programming) and financial modeling (modeling my own finances; I need more practice with this), I've neglected something which has always, up until this point, was the foundation, and often times was more important than, both my career and finances: spiritual and psychological modeling -- modeling my personal well-being.

Oftentimes it's easy for me to analyze someone else's life and find recurring "themes" (as I like to call them). Themes being his or her own loop of behavior in times of certain circumstances. It's a meta-analysis that's extremely interesting to me. It's essentially modeling.

A lot of people don't learn from their mistakes. A lot of people make the same mistakes over and over. Conversely, a lot of people consistently make good choices. 

I often wonder why a lot of people don't learn from their mistakes. For the most part, I think the root cause is lack of awareness of their repeated decisions. And that's why self-awareness is so important. That's why reflection is so important, in my opinion -- the ability to "deconstruct" oneself.  I admit, it's kind of scary to do. Most people don't like to think of themselves as in the wrong, so attempting to reconsider oneself is de-facto thinking something is wrong with oneself. Our natural tendency, our interior pride, is both our strength and our downfall.

Of course, I'm also stuck in my own sinister loops as well. They're hard to break. And for me, it's mostly always when I'm in neck deep in trouble is when I realize "Oh shit, I've done it again".  And the steeping process begins -- again.

However, there's a silver lining (I personally like to think there's always is a silver lining). In my own life, I've noticed that instances such as these, when I'm stewing in the chaos I've created (or that I'm afflicted with -- hey, I'm not always my own executioner), is when I'm most capable of realizing my situation and breaking free from these vicious cycles. It's like an anti-second-chance. Think of receiving a big break. This is the opposite of that, but still an opportunity to do better.

A part of me wants to react in this situation. To simply do whatever I can to get out of the stew as fast as possible. That means making less than sound decisions and taking desperate measures. Sure, these work out sometimes. But desperate measures, by definition, have a negative-expected value (I haven't done the math but experiences prove quite certain -- I'm realizing).

Rather, I'm forgetting that boiling in this mess is itself a good thing. I realize that last sentence sounds kind of morbid. Oh well, the situation is what it is, might as well call it what it is. The big question: why not let the consequences happen? Instead of running from them, reacting to them in nonsensical ways, embrace the consequences. Embrace the tragedy. Embrace the situation. Boil in your own stew of chaos. Let it transform you. Let it embed itself in your head and heart. It will eventually pass. Let it do what its supposed to do until then, which is to remind you that you never want to be put in this situation again. Lest to sound unfeeling, let me make clear that I do realize that not everyone puts themselves willingly into awful situations; this paragraph is explicitly only for those who sincerely, after deep reflection, acknowledge that mostly everything that happens to us is the result of one's actions in some way, shape, or form -- even if just a little detail is one's own fault, that's the action that's due for critique in proportion to the situation. Or, for the more radical existentialist take, even if it was never your fault at all, still, simmer in the mess. It happened for a reason (or, for the existentialists, make a reason and choice for never letting it happen again).

*I notice I interject a lot within my own train of thought. I try to keep interjections to a minimum, only using them to add some "umph" to the tone and readability. I'm aware seemingly off-tangent interjections are more the style of nihilists. I don't consider myself nihilist at all, or at least not in the traditional nihilist sense (lol at the oxymoron: traditional nihilist).*

Sentiments

I'm just going to share some writings that I'm reflecting on at this moment.

Mary Oliver's "Wild Geese":

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

An essay about Sartrean and de Beauvoirian Existentialism: click here

This G.K. Chesterton quote:

“The free man owns himself. He can damage himself with either eating or drinking; he can ruin himself with gambling. If he does he is certainly a damn fool, and he might possibly be a damned soul; but if he may not, he is not a free man any more than a dog.” – Broadcast talk 6-11-35

Cheers,
Aaron

Know Thyself

I wondered whether to give the Greek for the title of this blog, but it seemed both fitting and not-so-fitting with the rest of the blog, for these reasons:
It's such an old saying. Plato used it. Giving the title in Greek would mean I'm attempting to go back in time. Back to the beginning, back to square one. In addition, it would show I'm also attempting to work on the fundamental aspects of myself. Just like how the Greek ancient civilization was the foundation for the Roman civilization (barring of course everything prior to the Greeks... )
Yet, giving the title in Greek would, of course, be pretentious. Who speaks Greek? Big headed writers (ahem *T.S. Eliot* ahem), papers for impressing people in ivory towers. Attempting to work on the fundamental aspects of myself is an exercise in simplicity, an exercise in trying to work on the simple actions of my day-to-day living, rather than focusing on all the complex situations I'm in.

How did I get here?

Friends, I want to change my life. And I've realized the only way to do that isn't to make some elaborate scheme. It's by working on all the things my little errors. Not my big errors.

I've realized that all the big, bad things happening in my life is all just the result of little errors that, by themselves, don't seem to be so wrong, but actually mix together to make up the big mess I'm in (that sounds dramatic... it's not really that big of a mess, but I've been blessed with the clarity to see my life isn't going in the direction I want it to go).

 So, ironically... I'm going to deconstruct myself and focus on all the little pieces that make the whole. Kind of gestalt, really... and even more so... kind of like, Derrida. It's ironic because I don't consider myself a strong postmodernist thinker.

---- An actual life event:

So this past weekend I went to UCCC hosted by the UC Davis Newman Center. Awesome speakers and great people. It was awesome, and God really spoke to me through it. I learned a lot about what I need to do now, and really, the big message of the weekend for me was: Aaron, yes, you need to work on the fundamental aspects of yourself. You need to change your seemingly isolated and simple behaviors, because they're, in the long run, hurting you.

It's like playing a negative expectation game. In the long run, you'll come out the loser.

I don't want to play a negative expectation game anymore, guys.

Happy Lent everyone!

Discouragement enough?

“You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!”-

Line 76, "The Burial of the Dead", of The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot.

When I'm being rebuked and berated
the first thought is you, first
you, first
What nerve

When anger and hatred
is expressed unsedated
not prorated but exponentiated
I'm supposed to hold my tongue?

It's a bad defense
I feel no less guilty and
I'm aware of the consequences
of my own placed burdens

Or perhaps I don't
I don't really know the extent
And this treatment is deserved
Oh shit, I really messed up

And now, the pain compounded
I start a new journey
More or less more lonely
May God have mercy

Prodigal

"It's not the first mistake that kills you. It's usually the second, or the third." - Unknown.

How about the fourth? Or the fifth? Ad infinitum.

I like the Monty Hall problem. It's unique because, well, first it's essentially gambling. Well, actuarily (pun intended) to be more fair, it's risk analysis and probability. The math could speak for itself. And now, in a way I never thought of it before, it's also attractive in a philosophical way.

Three doors, you choose one. You find out which one is truly a mistake, and are given the choice whether to switch your chosen door or not. The real kicker is that all of the doors are actually a Pandora's box. Whatever you open is equally a prize and full of trouble. Kind of like Schrödinger' Cat, except superposition is not ephemeral, and the conclusion is both objective and subjective to whomever chooses a door. So would you really want to change your door? ... Or, in a totally Camus-ish way, should you even play?

This may very well be a bunch of nonsense.

Would the prodigal son be as infamous without the father? Without the father, only the pigs would notice his sad state. And they wouldn't even care.

A poem for the new year

To echo back my new years reflection blogs a few days ago, a lot can happen in one day.

For my first blog of 2016, I decided to publish a rather vulnerable poem I wrote.  Quite frankly, it underlies the hope for change I have for myself for this new year.  It may even hold some of the same sentiments you might have for this new year as well. It's gloomy. But it's intention is to obtain a more sober mindset.

Happy new year everyone.

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"To Walk Away"

it hurts
and yet it’s the right thing to do
to walk away, to stop trying
before it gets even worse

Uncomfortable
being in this situation
wasn’t supposed to be this way
dreams shattered, painful

Tough mistakes
they’re hard to accept
and relief comes very easily
but predictably also the aches

It’s too late
what's done has been done
the scars are open and wide
better to love them than hate

Too Slow
healing takes time
Patience is not yet my friend
… yet its time to grow