Category Archives: Things to Consider

late Middle English (in the sense 'far apart'): from Latin remotus 'removed,' past participle of removere.

I believe I've blogged ad nauseam about the implications, at least in a personal sense, of what it means to use the internet to be social over far reaching physical distances. And I'll gush about it to no end. The internet has, at this point, had a greater impact on my life than any other social context. But I'm not sure I've ever said anything about feeling far away from the persons I believe I had been because of it.

There is an idea of what I think I am, what others think I am, and what I perceive others to think I am, and those three variables come with subsets and variations in themselves. This is probably true about you, too.

The fact that I'm writing this from a hotel room traveling on business notwithstanding, I feel very far away from those persons I used to be, perceived and actual.

The cast:

  • My internet social presence suffered from hiding in the shadows as a freelancer for a time. But that guy is gone.
  • Before that, I was content to scurry around as an agency pawn. And don't get me wrong, those lives were fulfilling in their own ways. But that guy is gone, too.
  • And before that, there was the guy that was at another agency who also worked at a bar. Not only is that guy gone, but so is the bar.
  • And preceding, there was that lost, artistically-minded ne'er-do-well. Oh, that guy.

And I don't want to admit that friends come and go, because that's not how it should be. But in my life, they really do. It's not that I dislike these friends or acquaintances. It's not anyone's fault but my own that they don't stick around. I do not speak up about these things. I just have never been the guy to push for his own presence to be remembered. I'm too preoccupied getting my own shit together on top of or because of being self-interested, and would rather not be a burden. As much as attention is supposed to be nice and make me feel valued, there's this whole Catholic-guilt and poor self-esteem thing going on that prevents me from really enjoying any of it.

But it's been a whole year since the last nicopolitan took the stage -- the quiet (brooding? gawd, I hope not), behind-the-scenes developer. And today, it's the guy that doesn't quite fit the corporate life mold1 but tries his damnedest to make it work anyway. Wait -- a whole year? Where did all that time go?

I know I'm supposed to appreciate "living in the moment" and "paying attention before time passes", but have you seen how fucking fast this train is going? Because holy shit.

Maybe that's getting older. Maybe that's having accrued enough unrelated interests and hobbies that there is not nearly enough time to dedicate a substantial segment of the day to them. Maybe it's the relativity of life-having-lived being ever-extending to the constant values of time passing.

But it makes me fearful of what I'm going to become. Not because I'm uncertain for my safety or sanity or happiness -- but because I could never have expected to be what I am now. It feels just... really... far.

And if I'm going to end up being this remote from what I know, I just hope I still have bars of signal.

I don't speak up. I don't reach out. I'm stubborn like that.

But I need to know that I can. That's all. That's enough.

Because otherwise, the loneliness becomes very, very real.

  1. Still lacking wife and kids, but, I mean, LOL to all of that.

Before the rant commences, I gotta get a few things out of the way:

  • Hi, it's been a while. This writing will be rusty. Also, coarse language ahead, but I shouldn't have to warn about that anymore.
  • TRIGGER TOPIC WARNING.
  • I have had the fortune of having feminists around me throughout my adult life, and while I'm read up on some facts, figures, and concepts, I'm not going to claim myself an authority on anything, least of all qualified to speak on feminism in the scholarly sense. My college degree isn't in Gender Studies. This is a rant, not an academic journal. Besides, I am interested in this. And this is my blog. And I will write what I damn well please.
  • "What? A man? Interested in feminist issues?" Yes. Why is that weird? That's kind of a problem that that's weird, if you think about it.
  • Inb41 "white-knight"2 name calling.
  • In my near-decade of blogging, this is my first post about any kind of -ism. This will be a bumpy ride.

Good? Okay.

I've been paying attention to the #YesAllWomen hashtag on Twitter regarding recent events involving a shooting that is, in large part, motivated by misogyny. As far as if it really had anything to do with misogyny, that discussion is over. Because the answer is "Yes, misogyny played a part."

What disappoints me about the online conversation surrounding #YesAllWomen is that I'm seeing a lot of "This is a problem" and not enough "Here is a possible solution."

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  1. "In before", as in "Let's be clear, I am self-aware of how this sounds."
  2. Feigning chivalry to get into the good graces of women. And to clear that up, I'm not interested in getting into the good graces of anyone unless you're planning on giving me shit tons of money (or shit tons of pizza, whichever comes first).

A favored turn of phrase after Bloggers in Sin City is that "there are no words."

I beg to differ. We are bloggers, after all. So it is in words we trust -- and use our words, we must. But what to do when the task is daunting?

Return to form. Write what you know. From over here, I know that I write to learn things about the world and myself. Words are my Tetris pieces that sort out the lines and smooth over the gaps, and I never know what I'll have until the pieces are set at the bottom of the screen. This write-to-find process usually works, but I don't think I learned anything from #BiSC or the BiSCuits1. I've written this post five times in five different ways, and this may be because I'm out of blogging practice, but I can't nail down any new lessons. Bloggers are still bloggers, BiSCuits are still BiSCuits, people are still people.

I keep thinking that it's because I already knew that the BiSCuits would be remarkable human beings, people who allowed themselves to bring their respective thunder by granting access to their restricted areas2. Glorious individuals. They always are. So, that wasn't a surprise. And why should it be? But at the same time, how could I know that everyone would be wonderful, without fail? Continue reading

  1. BiSCuit - noun, sing. Epithet for an attendee of Bloggers in Sin City (BiSC), and a pun on the small, typically round, cake of bread.
  2. Psychological restricted areas. Non-sexual. Gawd, people.

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If you don't play video games, (PLEASE DON'T LEAVE I AM SO LONELY) I at least expect the average 16-40 year old to have at least a cursory pop culture understanding on what the new SimCity is based.1 And even if you aren't into simulated urban planning, the game is massive fun and receives good marks in the "thank ye gods, a non-first-person-shooter" kind of way.

On to the meat of the post, I have been playing this game with Joey and was wondering along the way if this game has artistic merit, as I am wont to do when I can't get to sleep. Sure, it looks great, the sound design is incredible, and it's definitely satisfying to just lay down curved roads. And EA Origin server problems aside,2 I have finally spent enough time in the Sims' world that I think I've got something.

The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things,
but their inward significance.
-Aristotle

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  1. No? Really? 20 years with computers and nothing? Okay, here.
  2. See The Verge

ryu_hayabusa
When I was younger, ninjas (and their related turtle manifestation) were heralded as the epitome of cool. In looser terms, to be considered a ninja is to be regarded as deftly talented and, where applicable, so damn good at what you do that other people don't notice.

As I grew older, ninjas were less revered and more relegated to myth and even cartoony caricatures. That's fine, after all, how realistically applicable are ninja principals? Who uses martial arts or cryptic Eastern fortune-cookie-esque philosophy in their day-to-day lives?

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Alternative Title: "What are you doing?"

I'd not gone out in a long time. I have been locked in a holding pattern of waiting for invoices to come in and workworkwork as per usual. However, last night was an exception. It was the middle of the weekend, there were no new emails, nobody wanted to work. I picked up my guitar for the first time in a while, and that felt good. Great, even. In between recording tracks, I reminisced on stories involving my local circle of musicians, and naturally that lead to being curious about what they were doing tonight. It's the weekend, surely something amusing would turn up?

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