Debilitating Deliberation

6.11.2017

I believe this existence is mostly meaningless. It’s by luck that we have consciousness, but that’s it. When this is over, it’s over. It’s both freeing and terrifying. I want to take that knowledge and use it to live a stress free life doing what I like, yet I still buy into the current system of which we are all a part of and find problems everywhere. I admit, I want a life for myself that seems to contradict most of my philosophical outlook. If this life is meaningless then I am free to do anything. Yet, the society we live in makes it seem so god damn important for us do what it wants instead. It’s not involuntary, but it’s pretty damn convincing.

Tomorrow the world may burn and I’m trying to make a dollar. That makes me sick.

A dollar that is meaningless unless one gives it meaning. I hate the dollar. I can’t imagine a world where it doesn’t exist, but god damn is it ridiculous.
It’s fucking paper.
No, it’s not even that anymore.

It’s a fucking number. Whatever.

I wrote an entry nearly a year ago about leaving Los Angeles and hitting the road. I felt stagnant, like I was part of a “Groundhog Day” situation that I wasn’t sure I enjoyed. That urge, fleeing, it’s returning with great weight this time. Not only am I making things I don’t like, but I’m worse off than I was this time last year. I’ve attempted many things to break the cycle but I ended up shooting myself in the foot. Both feet, actually. I’ve had a year’s long steady decline.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to hide the boredom and discontent from my face. When I am unsatisfied with a conversation or situation, I kind of shut down. As of recent, when people have conversations with me about topics of which I have no interest in, I don’t navigate it well. Instead of being the happy trooper and engaging in the societal norms of conversation, I just remain quiet until there’s an awkward ending. I just give up. It’s weird, because I do listen but all I can think is “Why the fuck do you care about this vapid horse shit?” It seems like the majority of the people in Los Angeles that I come into contact with deeply care about the most tedious and self-indulgent non sense. I can’t tell if I’m an asshole for wanting them to shut the fuck up or if I’m doing the world a disservice by not pointing out to them why they should. Either way, I think I’m in the wrong.

Obviously it’s not everyone or every conversation. My favorite thing on the planet is talking to people. When I find someone interesting or puzzling or even someone I can’t read right away, I get excited. I want to figure them out, understand who they are, and find out why they are different. Meeting someone worth talking to is like a breath of fresh air in a dark and stale room. It’s new. It’s invigorating.

So, that makes me wonder: Would I be happier on the road? I would definitely meet all sorts of people outside my “bubble”. Wouldn’t a new challenge and a new way of thinking be exactly where I would thrive? I could turn into one of those obnoxious traveling types that’s always talking about how travel saves lives, or... whatever? You know the type.

I still think my original idea of driving from state to state meeting new people and documenting it my way would be beneficial. At least for me. But that would mean I’m giving up on the system I still place so much weight in. Do I REALLY want to leave, or am I just unhappy with my current situation? What would happen if I got a job I actually liked? What would happen if I let down my guard and let people in? What would happen if I just left the house or stopped hiding from my friends and answered my god damn phone? Would I be happy?

I’m confused how most people can make decisions. I’m confused on how I should be living my life. The lack of meaning in life should be freeing but when I buy into the system it’s like there’s a weight on my chest every time I do something I genuinely don’t care for, which is most things these days.

The world could end tomorrow, but can I really live that way?

Sincerely,

-Matthew Deliberates

The Idiot And The Jellyfish

9.4.2016

As I fly back to LA from a unusual/amazing weekend in my hometown, I am hyper aware of how little I have any of this life figured out.

I’m not sure, but I have a suspicion this may be a more universal feeling. Or maybe I’m just telling myself that to make myself feel better as I walk around with no idea as to what’s supposed to happen next.
Am I fumbling around while everyone else has got a plan?
It sure seems that way at times.
Especially after this weekend.
I saw so many people I hadn’t seen for years. As it always goes, I was asked a bunch of questions about my life. You know, the usual: “What have you been up to?”, “How do you like it?”, “Are you enjoying yourself?”, etc.

It’s strange, but I haven’t had to reflect on these things in a while. It was weird. I was answering them and realizing it at the same time. I felt vulnerable, and a little fucking stupid -Like I should have had these answers figured out in my head before getting into the conversation. Everyone else seemed to know right away.

But the truth is, in LA I am able to isolate myself pretty well. I mostly work from home, I don’t go out often, I only see a few friends on a regular basis and when I do leave my apartment, I put my headphones in and block out the rest of the world like a moody asshole. I am constantly living in my head and thinking about random shit as opposed to figuring this life out. For example, the past couple of weeks I have been thinking non-stop about how fucking cool jellyfish and octopuses are. I came across a video of an octopus exhibiting its camouflage and I freaked out. I didn’t understand how it did it so well and I wanted to know... next thing you know I’m down the rabbit hole learning everything I can about this ability. The more I learned the more I found out how fucking insane these creatures are.

(BTW, “octopuses” is the correct usage, I promise you).

Whatever, my point is: I mostly live in the ‘Lala Land’ that I have created for myself and I don’t really spend much time thinking about what comes next. Should I be? When I do, it just stresses me out. Am I hiding from that?

I have no REAL plans for the future and I’m struggling to decide if that’s either some hippie Zen-like bullshit that works for me, or if I’m a fucking idiot who needs to figure this thing out and do whatever it is I’m ‘supposed’ to be doing. I do feel like I need to do something.

I just watched my brother get married and I was amazed at the whole event. He and his amazing new wife are starting something together. They have, at the very least, somewhat of a plan for their future. I don’t know the extent of their plans, and they might not have it all figured out, but they know they are on a path together. They are moving forward. They are making their once plans a reality and that’s pretty fucking big in my opinion. I don’t even know if I want that future per se, but I found myself envious that they definitely had something figured out. The more I talked to other people, too, the more I realized loads of people have their shit figured out.

What am I doing? Do I like it? Am I enjoying myself?

Man, those questions get tougher and tougher the more I think about em.

Can’t we just talk about how rad Jellyfish are?
Have you ever heard of the Gigantopithecus?
What are your thoughts on the Aquatic Ape Theory? It might be total bullshit, and from my (limited) understanding there isn’t much evidence supporting it... but it’s still pretty fucking interesting to think about!

Is it wrong that I “distract” myself by thinking about stupid shit like this? Is my version of Lala Land really that bad? I mean, I’m genuinely interested, but part of me wonders what the point of learning all this stuff on such a superficial level is. I can’t use this this to better my life or answer any of those questions.

What am I doing these days?
Well, mostly I find myself sitting in my apartment freaking out about how awesome this planet is, how lucky we are that life exists in such diverse ways, that octopuses are probably aliens, the universe is expanding into the unknown, yet somehow not EVERY conversation is about that... and fuck... Now I’m just questioning if my child-like wonder is holding me back from being a productive member of this current version of society.

What are you doing these days?

-Matthew Envies

'Til Death

8.31.2016

I’m currently on an airplane traveling back home to Washington for the first of two weddings I’m in next month.

I should be writing a speech or two right about now, but I can’t focus on that yet.

I am focused on marriage, though. I’m fascinated by it. I’ve been surrounded by the idea of it, and I’ve been watching how different people experience marriage.

In fact, my dear friends just got engaged last night and I’m super fucking happy for them! It seems like most people I know are on track to be or are already married. Weddings are loads of fun, and celebrating love is something I can definitely get on board with. I’m a big fan of love. Love hard, yo!

BUT,
All I can think about is how fucking weird marriage is as a concept.
It’s 2016 and the majority of marriages fail. It doesn’t seem to be that “permanent” anymore. It’s like a marriage is no longer expected to be “forever”. Obviously it’s expected to be forever for the two involved, but I see people getting married all the time, and occasionally one of my first thoughts is, “They’ll get divorced.”
But of course you can’t say that. That’s horrible.
But statistics don’t really lie...

Divorce is pretty fucking common. I’m on the plane and I’m too much of a cheap ass to buy the Internet, but I think the statistics are something like close to 70% of marriages fail. Don’t quote me on that, but I do know it has risen significantly from the “half of all marriages end in divorce” stat I grew up hearing.

And on top of that, the “sacredness” of marriage is becoming more and more rare. I know plenty of people who have fucked around on their spouse. Plus, there are sites like “Ashley Madison” where married people fuck around on each other which confuses me on a whole other level.

If you choose to get married, why fuck around? I’m not judging, just super confused on the whole thing. I just don’t understand the why the fuck you would stay married if you’re fucking around?

I wonder if anyone has ever come across their spouse’s profile on one of those sites? It’s has to happen. I wonder how the fuck that conversation goes? I recently came across a girl I am sort-of-kind-of-not-really-dating (shut up, I know how that sounds) on tinder and I felt like shit about that! It put me in a funk. I don’t want to be the one to “have the conversation” for a bunch of reasons I don’t need to get into, but it still felt weird. It just felt silly and embarrassing. I would rather be with that person than on tinder, but whatever.. It was weird and it felt ridiculous. I hate my generation. I can only imagine that tiny feeling of awkwardness that I experienced amplified by a billion to create a truly horrible situation with those couples on cheating sites. Must be awful for all parties involved. I’m uncomfortable just thinking about it.

Change subject in 3....2....1

“Why else is marriage weird, Matt?”

I’m so glad you asked my opinion!

MARRIAGE IS A LEGAL CONTRACT BETWEEN TWO PEOPLE IN LOVE AND THE FUCKING GOVERNMENT.

I’ll never be comfortable with that. It’s so bizarre that we celebrate love by getting the government involved.

So why do people get married these days?

I’m guessing it’s because everyone thinks that’s the normal thing to do.
And it IS the normal thing to do.
It’s a great, big, scary commitment to another person (and the government) that everyone does because of some outdated non-sense beliefs and practices that has existed for so fucking long. Old practices like that don’t die easily.

I’m not even against marriage, despite the above ramblings. I would love to have a monogamous partner for a lifetime. That sounds like a connection I would benefit greatly from. I’ve read a bunch of philosophy shit about why people have partners and it’s insanely fascinating how we desire such a deep connection with another soul. It’s fucking beautiful by all accounts. The intricacies of finding a “soul mate” make life exciting.

But how many people find their “soul mate”?

Aren’t most marriages just people who were dating at a certain point in their lives and felt enough societal pressures to make them feel like they had to make that a legally binding contract?

Am I off base here? Is it just me that notices this shit?

It could be that most marriages I grew up around seemed a bit... weird. I think some of the older generations stuck together for tradition, and the ones before them stuck together for appearance. It’s as if these marriages are a life of trying to not piss each other off and just getting by as best as possible. It seems exhausting and hard. Obviously not everyone's marriages are like that, but it is noteworthy. Maybe I’m way off base and that’s just what marriage becomes? God, I hope not. I know I don’t want that.

[Edited]

Fuck, now I’m rambling.

I just know that when I see a married couple (from an older generation) that seems genuinely into each other, and appear to value each others’ honest opinions, I get super fucking excited. It’s a breath of fresh air. It gives me hope! That kind of life-long partnership that I crave exists and I am a witness! (Sup, Schroder’s?)

I’m not being cynical.

Fuck, maybe I am?

You ever notice how many questions I ask in these posts? No one answers them. It’s just me publicly asking questions. Like a fucking crazy person.

This is not the blog I meant to write, but I started drinking on the plane because I turned into a giant pussy about flying two years ago and now I'm drunk.
Maybe I’ll write a more thought provoking post on this later.

Whatever.

Marriage:
It’s weird.
It’s really really bizarre that the government is involved. It can be the most beautiful thing on the planet.
Most of time it’s not what it’s cracked up to be.
It terrifies me completely.
But goddamn, when it’s beautiful it’s got to be worth it.

At the end of the day, I am on board with any occasion where we can celebrate love.

Congrats to the happy couple(s).

-Matthew Drunkenly Contemplates

*A previous version of this post included subjects that was asked to be removed by the people I was talking about. While I may disagree with this decision, I did edit it out. I'm not a fan of censoring myself, obviously, but this was an exception. I'm sorry. Always sorry.

I've Had Too Much To Think

8.12.2016

I don't feel like writing today.

I don’t feel like doing anything productive, actually.

I feel like drinking.

For a guy who has been clinging on to self-discipline for the last few months, I sure am fantasizing about being completely out of control and drunk.

Becoming heavily intoxicated is really fucking stupid when you think about it. You lose your inhibitions, it kills brain cells, you make mistakes, you do stupid things and you feel like dog shit the next day. It's all because at end of the day, you’re essentially just poisoning yourself.

I kind of want all of that.

I’m stressed.
I’m uncertain.
I’m nervous and I never get nervous.

I’ve been holding on to the idea that I should feel the whole range of emotions, good or bad, without the numbing filter of booze. Now I’m wondering where the fuck I got that idea from?

This is so typical.
This is my go-to. Something starts to get a little hard and I want to just tune out. If I get too bored, I want to tune out.

The easiest way that I've found to tune out and shut my brain up for the last X amount of years has been drinking alcohol in abundance. Booze has always been a kind friend willing to help me forget about my problems, entertain me, or when I need to, help me avoid reality all together. It is, for sure, my drug of choice.

I’m what you would call a “seasoned drinker”. Up until a few months ago, I was wondering if I was fucked from alcohol dependence. A decade of acting like life is a sad party where booze is a necessity to make it all seem a bit more tolerable was starting to freak me out. At different stages of my life it’s freaked a lot of other people out too. I’m not an alcoholic, but I definitely have a problem with moderation. This is sort of news to me. I mean, obviously I was experiencing it and I was the one pouring the delicious poison down my face hole, but I never stopped to realize how much more I would consume than others. OK, if I’m being completely honest, I think I always realized it but I never accepted it until recently.

Turns out I’m sort of lucky, It’s been incredibly easy to not drink excessively. I’m not actually dependent on it. Once I fully realized that I tended to get out of control I just decided I couldn’t do that anymore. Shit, I got willpower.

I decided I would still partake in social situations, so that I don’t miss out on a huge part of this society, I just wasn’t going to self medicate anymore. This newfound way of life has been great. It’s made me realize some of my faults, it’s opened some doors, allowed me to be in control, and it’s stated me on a path of experimenting with self-discipline. As someone who has a problem with moderation, this has been pretty fucking positive.

I started testing myself in other areas as well. I have always had issues with falling asleep, getting enough sleep, waking up, etc. so I decided I wanted to fix that. Now I go to bed at 11 and wake up at 5:30 every day just to prove I can.
I follow an insane diet that would have seemed ludicrous three months ago.
I have a strict workout routine that could easily be described as “obnoxious”.
I do a bunch of other shit that requires discipline, but I don’t need to get into it here... you get the point.

Shit, am I changing too much?
Is this just another example of me being horrible with moderation? Whatever.

Whether all of these new strict routines stem from my problem with moderation or not, I’ve found huge benefits from being in control of every aspect of my life.

But right I want to pour some Jack down my throat and lose my shit.

My brain has been racing for days.
I’ve had too much to think.

I’m stressed.
I’m uncertain.
I’m fucking nervous and I hate being nervous.

I can’t tell if drinking heavily is ever a good idea?
I could argue that it would definitely help me loosen up and take a much-needed break from worrying about shit.
I could also argue that it’s logically a stupid thing to do and that tomorrow I may have the same worries.

So it comes down to control. Is relinquishing control for a night a good idea? Am I too controlling of everything in my life right now? Or, is this some weird subconscious desire to give in and be self-destructive for a night?

I don’t know.
This is all still new to me.

“Just take a drink, pussy!”

Ah, there’s that voice again.

-Matthew Stresses

Human Shadows

8.6.2016

You ever notice that when you’re dwelling on something for a while, it keeps popping up all around you? You start seeing examples of that exact thing, or conversations end up going in that direction. It’s like the universe is telling you to deal with it.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the impressions we leave on the people that we come in to contact with. I’ve had two random conversations about it that I didn’t bring up. And then I found that one song, Dearly Departed, by that Shakey Graves fella. I know, I’m not that fucking hip to the current trends of music. People have been telling me to listen to him for years. Whatever, I finally did this week and that song seems terrifyingly similar to the exact idea.
(I’ll link it at the bottom.)

This life can be summed up as a life-long progression of different experiences. Obviously everything can be considered an experience, but certain things hold more weight than others. When we look back, we look at past moments where something significant happened. Good or bad.

We don’t seem to focus on the mundane or ordinary moments.
I highly doubt anyone is thinking about what they had for lunch in 2006 on August 8th. So, for this let’s focus on the important ones. Specifically, the ones where other people affect our lives... Those experiences that hold so much weight, that they shape our present and future. The ones that leave a mark, or where there is residue, or there is a shadow of the person that you experienced it with.

There is something left over.

It’s pretty fascinating what shapes our lives to create the person we are today. From what I can gather, we alter our behavior based on the experiences we have had. That’s how you learn, right? As a child you touch a stove and burn the shit out of your hand and you learn not to do that ever again. You will remember for the rest of your life that stove=pain. You may not even remember the time you burned your hand, but you will always remember that lesson. That’s pretty fucking bizarre to me.

What’s even more bizarre to me is how we affect each other.

If someone hurts you to the core, it’s highly likely that you will associate that person with pain. It’s not just that person, though. That association can happen when you meet someone similar to the original wrongdoer or pain-causer. Maybe they look like them, speak like them, are interested in similar things, smell like them, or whatever the case... there is a shadow of that original pain. You can be looking at an entirely different person, with different hopes, dreams, morals, and life experiences; yet, a ghost of the one who wronged you lurks in your mind. It affects you. It can drastically alter how you treat that person.

Is this fair?
No.
Can we help it?
I’m not sure yet.
But I think it’s worth trying.

I think recognizing that they are different is important. Each of us appears to be an individual. Sure, there are some mass amounts of people that seem like clones of whoever the current trendy celebrity is, but I would wager my life that deep down we are all highly unique.

I’ve seen people be complete assholes to another person just because they remind them of someone else. Hell, I’ve done it. For a hot minute in college I associated every sorority girl I ever met with the first few shitty dumb ones I interacted with. I acted superior to them. I thought I was superior to them. I just assumed I was soooo fucking smart in comparison. Ironically, that attitude of being a dick played very well for me. Being a dick got me laid quite a bit back then. It was confusing. I always assumed I was the “nice guy”. I remember seeing all the assholes get the girls in high school and wonder how the fuck anyone could fall for that?

I can remember the day it worked for me. There was this gorgeous girl who just seemed like an airhead. She was hanging around some of my friends and I just started being a cunt for no reason. I would make fun of her, not directly to her face, but right in front of her and everyone else. Once she realized what was going on, she started trying to convince me I was wrong about her. She made it her mission to convince me that she wasn’t what I thought she was. She wanted to prove herself to me. Next thing I know, things were progressing in a strange fashion. I didn’t stick to my guns of calling this beautiful girl an idiot after she seemed hell bent on convincing me that she was not. I accidentally figured out how people can fall for that awful shit. My mind was blown.

We hooked up that night.
I know, I’m not proud of myself.

I look back on that part of my life now, and I’m horrified. I have altered my behavior accordingly. I have changed so much that the idea of doing that to someone is so far from what I would ever want to be doing. It goes against my own morality.
Being cruel to people isn’t my jam.
In that aspect, I have grown up.

But I WAS an asshole. I hurt a lot of people in those years. I left a lot of negative imprints on others and that I wish I hadn’t. Maybe there is a string of people avoiding long-haired, smug, purple-pant-wearing, douche bags who rant about non-sense for the rest of their lives.

(Yeah, I had purple pants. I JUST said that I was an asshole, OK?)

I’d like to pretend there aren’t too many, but I’m guessing there are a few people where a ghost of me still haunts them to this day.
Actually, I know there are.
I’ve even tried reaching out in an attempt to make amends, or at the very least apologize for being such a cock-nugget.

I haven’t had much luck.

So what do we do about this? People grow. I'm not whatever ghost they are still holding on to anymore. Contrary to popular belief, people change ALL the fucking time. People aren’t like the stove. The stove will always be capable of burning the fuck out of you. It’s constant. But people can, and often do, grow.

And before you even think it, I know that some people don’t grow fast enough. I know that some people are dicks. I know this. But they all have the potential to change, and most will.

So is it fair to hold on to these ghosts? Do they help us much? Is it fair to look at a new person with all their individual experiences and only see the shadow of someone else?
I don’t think so.

But, I can see why. I can also see how hard it is to exorcise that ghost from our head, especially if the pain was particularly traumatic.

I just hope we can all be a bit more open with new people. I think remembering that we are all different and unique, is A) Beautiful and B) Super fucking important.

I am not someone else, just as you are unique to your own experiences and life progression.

Besides, having ghosts around is never a good thing.

-Matthew Ponders

Dearly Departed