Month: January 2017

Social media is hardly the medium for changing people’s beliefs, though I’m always welcome to conversing so I can understand misunderstood or opposing views better.

But I do know many people who don’t support him, yet I believe grossly underestimate this man’s ability to undermine American democracy and its foundations for the worst. And I’m hoping that these people can be pushed over the edge and have the sudden realization of the magnitude that we’re dealing with.

It’s a character issue, and he has the most depraved character and integrity you could dream up as an American leader of any capacity. We don’t know the extent that he’ll use his power to persecute those who go against him. But I imagine we’ll learn soon enough, and I don’t think it’ll be mild. That’s not what history has shown.

It’s bothersome that people are unable to connect the dots and see what’s coming. Thoughts become actions, actions become habits, habits become character, character becomes destiny. Everything out of this guys mouth is inane.

I wish I could believe there was more going on behind the scenes, in his mind, some intellectual strategy, some humanity that isn’t entirely self serving, but after 70 years alive, his track record and recent election year has shown that he’s entirely shallow and unreflective and self serving. He knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.
Posts like this are just a beacon. We’re headed for the rocks in the figurative sense. It’s a crisis involving the moral fabric of society, of right and wrong, truth and false, good and bad, healthy and unhealthy, up and down, humane and inhumane. Whether people care to see that or not isn’t my responsibility. But shining the light for those who don’t seem to be aware of what’s coming feels like it is.

In regards to attacking the publisher of an article rather than the content of the article:

I’m disappointed you decided to criticize the publisher of the post, rather than the content of it. Salon is an otherwise pop tabloid media outlet. But that doesn’t detract from the content of this particular article.

Continue reading “Trump”

Love is like a delicate bird; grasp too tight and you’ll break its wings.

I’m on my way to Dallas, in a PC12 Pilatus. I chose the cheapest airfare for the Dallas Gift Trade show. My flight departed out of Nashville airport. I forgot how long the entire flight is, but there’s a layover in Greenville, MS.

I’ve been officially home since Sunday. So, after about two months, I was home for four days. I’ll be gone a week this time, returning Thursday evening. I’ll be going to Dallas for a couple days, then San Francisco, then Vegas.

It’s a small plane, and the slightest turbulence is felt. Very small Cabin. It’s nice tho. Feels regal.

I went to therapy yesterday morning. It was good to see Dr. C. It’s been eight weeks before I saw him last, and a lot transpired. I caught him up on all my traveling and escapades, as best I could given the fifty minutes or so we had together.

That afternoon, I received a strange text message from someone claiming they met me months ago on Tinder. This could only be one person: D. I called her out and told her I knew it was her, and to text call me because I was leaving out of town the next day. She did, and called me. She then proceeded to tell me how she knew I was on Tinder, as if I was committing some grave sin. I proceed to tell me how I expressed my desire to marry her prior to me leaving. I said that was always my intention, but it would never work, and that her last little melt down proved that to me beyond any reasonable doubt.

She wanted to argue and quibble over insignificant disagreements and understandings, and wanted to shame me or condescend me for not living up to some idea she has in her head of the way I’m suppose to be, and the way things are suppose to be.

I told her I didn’t want to have these conversations with her. She objected. I told her if she wanted to talk about us, because there is no us, and no obligation I have to her or anyone about my personal business, that we can discuss it with my therapist. So I told her that she could meet my therapist and we could all talk together, in a controlled setting. Surprisingly, she agreed. And eagerly. Although, I’m not quite sure. Perhaps because she feels she is genuinely losing me. Whatever the case, I call my therapist and he agrees to see us both. Our appointment is a week from tomorrow, on the 27th of January. So that’s that.

Linnea and I have been talking again, although she dropped off the map the past week due to skiing in the Swiss backcountry with her brother, though I’m not sure which one. I believe there is Joran, Axel, and… one other. Joran lives in San Francisco, Axel in Copenhagen I believe, and the other… is Anders. That’s it. And I believe he’s in Paris with his wife and children.

Linnea is a strange phenomenon. She’s a dream, literally and figuratively. A dream because she embodies everything I could desire in a woman. Quite literally. Sentimental, nurturing, deep, reflective, educated, cultured, well traveled, well read. And I couldn’t ask for a more beautiful physical embodiment of a woman. But… like a dream… she exists only in my mind: I haven’t experienced her first hand. Only through email exchanges. And this has been ongoing since October 4th, the day of my birthday, when our first exchanges took place. Sometime mid November we had a misunderstanding, a falling out of sorts, when she planned to visit, and I cancelled two days after telling her to come. My cancellation was abrupt, albeit justified in my mind, but in hindsight too terse considering the sentimental exchanges we had up until then. She’s sent me a recording of her speaking in Swedish, and a recording of her playing guitar, and countless pictures. But she has not picked up the phone to call, despite my frequent requests. What is she hiding? Is she real? Or is this some twisted romance? She confessed her love to me over email, and I returned the sentiment, because it’s true, I’m in love with the idea of her. But I need to experience her first hand. Who is this girl? What is she like? I need to breath her in, I need to touch her skin, feel the warmth of her neck on my lips. I need my hands to feel her flesh, grip her bones, grasp the life inside her and delve into the depths of her gaze with my own.

I thirst for her, yet I’ve never tasted. What is this strange love? This dreamy lust? Where have my judgements taken me? For what?

She says she’ll be in the states by the end of January, and we shall see each other soon after. I beg my hopes are justified.

Ideas are like floating dandelion seeds. They’re pretty to admire as they hang in the air, but you must reach out and grab them and take hold and plant them firmly in the soil. Let the idea take root. Label the idea. Soon its roots will extend deep into the earth and it will grow towards the sky and blossom outward and inspiration will blow new ideas into the air for more planting. 

And what is will?

You always get in proportion to what you give, and giving up is uncomfortable for most. We want to hold on, but we cannot get more if we don’t let go.

And holding on is where struggle is born; suffering and struggle is apart of life.

We can choose our pains to direct our gains.

Let go of comforts.
Let go of the familiar.
Let go of the self, and who we think we are.
Let go of beliefs, which always possess limits.
As soon as we define, we confine.

Let go of fears;
Fear is unhealthy, no matter how small.
Fears grow.

Every fear we endorse gives our fear of fear more and more life
Our fears are not rational. Fears start small, and as we acknowledge them we give them power, power that controls us, makes us less free.

Fear is the enemy of growth.

When you are fearless, you have mastered your self
He who wishes to master the world must first master himself: no pain, no gain.

Fear of pain and suffering is our greatest enemy.
Because ultimately we are afraid of death, be it physical or ego annihilation
Embrace fear of death and you embrace life.

We can possess our thoughts, or we can let our thoughts possess us.
Our thoughts are not reality;
they merely shape reality

Realizing this, we can become masters of our self, and… others. By not taking thoughts as true. We shape truth. Truth does not shape us.

In the sense that truth is inside us. Not outside us.
Those who believe truth is outside themselves will be victims of circumstance. There is nothing true or false but thinking makes it so.

Perhaps hard to wrap the mind around, but profound and powerful.

I’m currently in Atlanta, GA. It’s 6:46am. I’m laying in bed, in a large southern home at 193 Elizabeth St. Me and the guys are staying at an Airbnb while attending the Trade Show located at the America’s Mart buildings.

How am I?

I feel disjointed. Perhaps it’s the Jet Lag? Or maybe the constant travel the past eight weeks. I’ve taken eight flights in eight weeks. Not to mention a five day cruise.

There is no routine.

I haven’t been reading, or reflecting as much as I’d like.

In order to achieve anything, you need a plan, then you need to apply discipline, which is nothing more than focused effort, or consistent habits. But you can’t very well establish a habit, or a routinized set of actions, when you’re traveling, when your whole world is changing day by day. I don’t feel very rooted.

However, I arrive home in Nashville on Sunday, and I’ll be there for roughly two weeks. This should provide some relief. I can’t wait to read, to work, to write, in the confines of my home, of my space.

My mind feels scattered, my body abused. I’ve been liberally indulging in food and alcohol as I please, which hasn’t been over the top, just atypical for my usual consumption. And when I say usual, I mean what’s been normalized the past few years. The past four months on the other hand, have been all over the place.

I need to workout. I need to begin my good habits again. Continue reading “Atlanta Thoughts”

I’m back in the states, thankfully. I feel drained, and rightfully so. A 15 hour flight from Singapore has left me decidedly jett lagged, something I fear I won’t recover from as quickly as I was hoping.

Currently sitting in a cafe named Boulangerie, located downtown San Francisco. I spent the night at Seth’s after a work meeting with Scott and Seth and I. I was fairly useless, and passed out immediately after our meeting concluded which, after second thought, I’m not quite sure how it ended or on what note. I must have closed my eyes and passed out. I woke to a dark room and Seth asleep in his bed. I picked myself up from the crannied couch, disrobed, and slid onto the blow up mattress.

On Sunday Scott picked me up at the airport and we went to Joannes for breakfast.

The city Singapore is from the Malay word Singapura, with singa meaning “lion” and pura meaning “city”, or Lion City.

I spent the first few days in Singapore with my family, touring around, visiting the botanical gardens, visiting shopping malls, seeing the national museum and the battle box museum.

On my last day in Singapore I meet up with a Chinese Singaporean girl. We meet at the national gallery, adjacent to city hall, and have drinks on the roof top. She chose the spot as a good location to survey the entire city skyline, so she could educate me on the particulars.

I wasn’t initially attracted to her, or at least, I suspended any expectation that I would be. But she turned out to be very cute, and her personality blew me away. She was an INTJ, my favorite personality type. I’m an ENTJ. She was very smart and witty and knowledgable and extremely well traveled. I love women with an intellect. It’s such a turn on, especially if they’re attractive.

She and I spoke for hours and hours and hours, about philosophy and religion, to geopolitics, to business, to her career. She worked for Standard Charter, one of the oldest British banks in the world. They typically serve developing countries. She grew up in Singapore but left for Melbourne when she was 16 for school to attend boarding school and university, and returned after she graduated at 22. She was 25.

We ended up going to Chjmes, which was an outdoor bar-restuarant area located at a reconverted/renovated church.

We taxied back to my area of town and continued talking at a Mozzarella and wine bar. We got a bottle of Malbec and ordered some bruschetta and charcuterie. Eventually we went back to my room where we played and talked intimately for several hours.

It was quite the memorable experience.

Laying on my mattress, in Bangkok.

It’s been said that discipline is the beginning of wisdom…
Actually, I don’t know if that’s been said, but it should be said. I believe fear of the lord is the beginning of wisdom is what I was raised to believe, but as I’ve gotten older, it’s become more obvious is discipline, thought I hate to say it, really is the source of all progress, emotionally, intellectually, or physically.

A poorly disciplined spirit knows no bounds to the pain it succumbs to; suffering is drawn to those weary spirits who know no discipline.

I was contemplating discipline as it relates to love.

I wonder if this is the key to happiness? Or is disciplining love is entirely foolish.

When I leave, my heart wants to leap out of my chest and surrender itself every moment. I’m not sure this is the best way to go about loving. But then again, there is a unique vulnerability to this surrender, a vulnerability that can be admired, or despised. And I’m not sure which it evokes more, or why.

Linnea. I still think of her. I wrote her on December 31st as I was flipping through my journal. She always knows the right words to say. I wonder if I have that effect on her. Whenever I read her, I am hungry for more. I wonder what she’s like. I wonder if we’ll ever meet. I wonder if it’s an illusion in my mind, and she’s a deranged sociopath bent on having people fall for her. And then I wonder if I’m the same type of sociopath. Huh. I don’t think so. It’s not malicious anyway, and all I want is love. I never hurt anyone intentionally. I’d much rather run away. I’m not a fan of conflict.

Anyway. I’m in Bangkok. It’s been over two weeks with the family, and the time is slowly wearing on me. I’ve experienced all the vicissitudes of feeling.

My family dog Lola died this morning. Very tragic. She was in the care of my uncle. While she was sick, she did have several more years left in her, but my uncle simply didn’t know or act soon enough to realize that she was weak and sick. Thirteen years old. My family is devastated. Especially because we couldn’t be there for her. I’m upset. I haven’t cried yet, but I want to. I wonder if I will. She was the sweetest dog ever.

I want to travel, and learn more languages. Traveling makes me want to quit my job and go to far off lands and learn languages and read about history and culture and religion and philosophy and understand it all, and write about it all.

It also makes me want to be more disciplined, to learn more, do more, plan more, scheme more, build more. I want to be more productive with my time, I want to discipline myself to doing what I need to do to master what I desire to master.

Sciences, philosophies, become a monk for a year, learn all of physics, study it all and be able to teach it all. Engineer solutions to social problems. Build businesses. Invest wisely. Save money. Learn many languages and never stop. I want to sculpt. I want to write more music, and learn more instruments. I want to learn the piano, and compose works of art! I want to express more. And do more. And be more and never ask for permission!

I visited a lot of temples today. The king died at 89 years of age and the entire country is in morning. Lines of 50,000 people a day come to see the casket before the king is cremated. The entire city is garbed in black out of respect.

I also think about how small I am, and the importance of humility. I want to be so humble. My ego is so damn large and obnoxious sometimes.