Pure signal.

Be what you are

What happened to our youth?

I know that there was a time when I felt more alive than I feel right now. I was more passionate, more exited about being alive. I didn’t make better decisions, but I enjoyed the results of my decisions more. Who is this bland kind of depressed person who’s skin I’m living in today?

I’ve followed this question with other people for some years now, and the people who can relate to the sentiment have offered a number of reasons that this feeling would happen.

One obvious issue is just getting older — I have physically less energy than I used to. Another is that I have been really disappointed by various things, losing love, being betrayed on the job, having dreams crushed in a variety of ways.

But when I look over my notebooks — my current notebooks and poems and scribblings from what I can tell — I really like the person who I am. The person who I am intellectually — the person who has been shaped by these events is still fully present in my words. But I do not feel him in my bones — I see the words on paper — the books and bands that I like the art that I like.

But none of those things are in my life.

For whatever reason — I have wandered into a life that does not reflect the person who I am. And I don’t think that this is a question of where I live or my work or anything like that — but more a question of how I act and what I say from moment to moment. In any given moment — the person who is living inside me is not moving his arms in conjunction with the person who is outside of me. I feel that my clothing is questionable. My facial expressions and gestures. I feel crushed down into these moderate exhalations of myself — I am cowardly.

I think that this is the real problem. I am living, in the moment, out of integrity with myself in some fundamental way, and the weight of that is tiring me.

I need to BE WHO I AM.


November 7, 2007 - Posted by | Uncategorized

1 Comment »

  1. “I wanted only to try to live in accord with the promptings which came from my true self. Why was that so very difficult?”

    When we’re young, priveleged white americans, we are told we can grow up to be anything we want to be. At age 3 this may be true. By 15, we have been tracked into a slot. We are designated as either college, tech school, or straight to the factory kids. (Well, it used to be straight to the factory. I think maybe now it’s straight to Iraq.)

    What I mean to say is this: they lied to us, sold us a bill of goods, etc. Maybe they believed it themselves. Maybe they just figured it’s what you’re supposed to tell the kids… But, by now, we know it’s bullshit. A midget can’t play in the NBA. A dumb kid can’t be a good scientist. Almost no one can make a decent living as an artist with integrity.

    But, beyond all that… I’m not trying to blame some bullshit I was told 25 years ago… Once you get out into the “real” world, past the schools and the military… It becomes quickly obvious that this is not the best of all possible worlds and that the hopes and dreams of our youth are either totally ridiculous, or entail a fuck of a lot more effort, luck, etc. than we have to give.

    I don’t often feel like I can say what I want or do what I want whenever I want. Beyond just the basic compromise we make in agreeing to live in society by society’s rules (wear clothes outside, don’t spit on random strangers, no pooping in the aisles, etc.) I do feel like I have compromised to be where I am.

    I gave up the freedom of being what they call “single”, for the limitations and comfort of being entangled. I gave up the freedom of being not-a-parent for the experience of being a parent. The result? Freedom is responsibility. Take responsibilty for the life you have chosen.

    If left to myself, you know me… I’d spend as little time as possible scavenging for money so I could spend as much time as possible doing… whatever. All I need is a roof and beans and rice, (and tobacco, and…) But, now, I need a bigger roof, more beans, more rice, more etc. To get that I have to add haircuts, clothing, modes of speach etc. to my limitations (at least during the “work” hours.) It sucks. It crushes my spirit. It’s a hefty price to pay to be who and where I want to be the rest of the day.

    But, in a general sense, even the rest of the day… I do find it “so very difficult.”

    Comment by Chuk! | November 14, 2007 | Reply

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