[symbolic emptiness]






[just kidding, I’m working on it]  

[here’s the old one for now]  

[now maybe you see what I’m up against]  

[I mean, who are any of us, really? How do you even begin to answer that? Is it the things we do, the people we love, or what those people would say about us? Is it the people and things we change in the world? Is it what we create (be that material, like art or products or services, or more esoteric, like joy and inspiration)? Is it what we consume (same qualifiers)? I mean, it’s all of those things and more, right? How do you write that?]  

[I tend to think of myself as the things I’ve done–things I’ve created, changes I’ve instigated in others (on large and small scales)…but I also do think of myself as just certain types of energy and ideas, like I’m just a (flawed) representative of various notions like individuality and enthusiasm, positivity, tenacity, and so on…and the things I do are really just expressions of those values. In which case, the values came first, and thus are more essentially me, right? One step less removed from whatever core set of things equals me. These other things–artistic and material production, even verbal expression–are just a brief glint of light shone on a moment in time and space. Are they me, or you? They were us, in that moment. Ideally, in the moment, they were as true an expression of ourselves as we could pull off…though if we’re being honest (and let’s be honest, right? Don’t we owe that to each other–or at least to ourselves?), I think a lot of folks–myself included–tend to get a little numbed or dulled by [insert modern-day stressor here], if only as a means of self-preservation. Just a way to get through trying circumstances. But my point is that I doubt many of us are really at 100% true expression or productivity–really truly getting ourselves out there as much and as clearly and freely as we can. I mean, I nibble at that sometimes, but even in the best moments, I sometimes find myself questioning the authenticity (or meaning, or value, or…bottom line, whatever seems easiest to poke holes in probably) of a given act or creation or statement. I’ve been known to spend a half-hour finely crafting a single Twitter posting, only to look back at it minutes after posting it and fundamentally question its worth. Such is the quest for expression and self-improvement in the modern age, eh? It’s a pisser.]  

[Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m projecting this onto everyone so that I can give myself a pass for not having wrapped my life up into a convenient little package by this time in my development. See how right there, I said “not having wrapped my life up in a convenient little package”? A not-so-subtle dig, one must presume, at those who do have their lives “wrapped up” into a “convenient little package”? I’m denigrating these theoretical people for having their lives and minds in order. A defensive technique, I presume. Flipping the script, so that (what folks might call) normal people are portrayed as delusionally-sterile weirdos–like the fake families from 50’s vacuum cleaner ads and cereal commercials. The irony being that, for all the “rebel” in me, I live a very plain and predictable life these days, my schedule riddled with routine, my fashion and style dulled by laziness. Under the surface is a very different story. Or is it? That’s the question isn’t it? The question for all of us, really. Can you get the outside to match the inside? And can you then match your rhythms with those of the world (and people) around you? Easier said than done, am I right?]  

[I really enjoy talking to you. Has anyone ever told you you’re a great listener?]