So I lied. You’ll soon learn I do that from time to time when it comes to deadlines I set for myself. It’s been 2 months since I put out a lets play… Anyways I figured I’d drop a rando thought process on you guys to bide my time while I write the next bit about whatever it was I was rambling about last time. My friend has agreed to edit the more thought out blogs to help keep the flow I don’t seem to possess. It’s because when I hustle and flow. The hustling takes precedent.  OOOOOOh sick burn. Except there was nothing flammable.. drats.

I find it difficult to find my flow sometimes because a lot of what I say in conversation  apparently doesn’t classify as actual words in the English language. That or I’ve decided to use words that don’t mean what I use them for. My own slang more or less. I like to use the word erroneous for excessive, which isn’t wholly incorrect. Just, you know.. kind of incorrect.

language is one of those things no one owns and anyone can manipulate. It wonderful. This right here is my freedom to express my haphazard butchered version of the English language. I know that not everyone in the world has the freedom to do this, and that truly is unfortunate.

I’ve decided one of the main reasons I like writing in this more than vlogging is the amount of clothing required. Normally when I write these I’m in my boxers.. I might have on a bathrobe.. emphasis on the word might.

but vlogs, I dunno I have to actually kind of have a direction in mind when I start otherwise I waste time reshooting, and editing, and all that production stuff I obviously hate doing. Not to mention I have to wear actual clothes(I do slip in a bathrobe here and there). With the written word it feels more like my inner monologue. More like, the real me is being expressed. I know I’ve said it’s limited a little, but only in the sense that sometimes it’s harder to string the words together when you’re writing or typing… or my mind gets ahead of my fingers and I lose track of where I was, or where I was going.

I recommend to anyone that has any sort of issues to just write. Write whatever. Even if it’s pages of “I don’t know what to write” eventually you’ll have something. One of my teachers in high school had us do this. I think it varied between 5 and 10 minutes a day. He would put up a topic if you couldn’t think of one for yourself, but the idea was to unclutter your mind.

Get all that garbage out that you hold on to, everything you want to tell people but can’t muster the courage. Those conversations you want to have but don’t know how they’ll go. Just get it out. When I do it, I’ll do it both in written and verbal forms depending on my mood. Often I’ll run both sides of the conversation. It helps me anticipate how the conversation will go if I decide it does still need to take place, but often through this I don’t need to have it. It makes you think outside of your own head. When you put the idea out there and see it through your eyes, or hear it yourself, it changes. You recognize how dumb it sounds or how great, or how… peculiar. Whether it’s a selfish idea or point you’re going to make, or if you yourself are really being the unreasonable one.

I find it also helps with empathy. To play both sides of the conversation you have to put you theoretical feet in their hypothetical shoes(that is probably incorrect but I like how it sounds, so bite me). You can’t just use your thoughts. Postulate why, or how. Expand your mind to recognize that you can relate.

As a homework assignment to whoever reads this and has 10-15 minutes. I want you to do this. Written, voice, or video. You don’t have to share it with me or anyone else(if you want to then by all means do), but for yourself. Get that shit out. Go to the top of a hill and yell at the clouds or something.

Crash and Burn

Casey

Go Hawks!

This is my attempt at sometime other than that bucket thing I spoke of yesterday. This will be a lot longer than the other ones, so bare with me.

Self discovery is not a new idea. It’s something we’ve done as humans for.. well.. as long as we’ve been humans. Probably a little before that too. Pilgrimages and what not. In the time of now people still do often go on those, they go camping, hiking, jump out of airplanes, I honestly don’t know.It’s not something I’ve fully figured out. Who I am, why I’m here, what I’m doing. I have no idea, or at least not a clear idea. As I’ve grown I’ve gone through stages of thinking I knew me, and times where I thought “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” when looking in a mirror(sorry for yelling, hopefully your volume was turned down).

I’m going to make the assumption that most of us struggle with this. Even those we see as most well rounded and confident. Many of us(again making assumptions) want to or strive to better understand ourselves. I’ve gone through a few things. The first time I felt as though I knew my purpose was in high school. I remember the exact moment. I don’t remember what day specifically, but I’m sure I have it written down somewhere. I was a rower, that’s what I did. To a certain extent I hated it, I also grew to love it. Stockholm Syndrome or something I guess.

I’m going to give a little back story to explain before I go any further otherwise this might not make sense. I was forced into rowing because my mother felt like I needed to be more active, or outside, or maybe just not play video games so much, doesn’t really matter. The first day of practice was during 8th grade, on my 12th birthday. What a present right? I was so mad. Mad doesn’t really begin to describe it, it was almost tantrum status in my head. I complained and complained and complained, for DAYS and WEEKS.. More like months. It took away my time with my friends, my time playing video games, made me go out and be around people I didn’t know(something that I used to absolutely hate). I was smaller and younger than everyone there.

5 feet tall, 90lbs, and 12 years old.

Most of my team mates were 15+ and full on into high school and “maturity” I was obviously alienated a little. Fortunately for me I didn’t have a choice in this, I had to do it. I became a starboard rower most often bow seat. I followed, I was quiet, I was definitely not a leader. As time passed I grew up first physically, within a year I was 5’10 and 140lbs. The next step was mentally, I developed a competitive spirit. I hated people telling me I couldn’t(in no small part due to outside circumstances, but that’s a whole different story). My sophomore year I broke 7 minutes for a 2k, My mom said if I did she would give me some amount of money I can’t remember so I went into practice and wrecked it. We did 2x2k that day. Much to the amazement of myself and my coach I did it back to back within 1 second of each other. This whole time though I still followed and I still rowed starboard. I had friends now, but still not a leader.

(the next part is how I remember it, not 100% accurate obviously)

Junior year it all changed. I went into practice and my name was put as stroke seat. I panicked, I had finally become accustomed to going into practice and was comfortable with who I was. Then this?!? I saw an out, the boat was port rigged. I walked all smug up to my coach “Hey Nick, I can’t be stroke”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“I can’t row port”

“Oh.. Ok”

he swapped my name for Will’s. Little personal victory, or so I thought. The next day I went into practice my name was at the top again. Stroke. I laughed a little inside as I walked up to my coach. “Hey Nick, I still can’t row port”

“Oh I know” he said as he pointed to the boat.

Fuckers came in early and rigged it starboard stroke! Pure panic set in, and Nick saw it. I frantically tried to argue my case why I shouldn’t be stroke. He responded simply “Casey, if I didn’t know you could do it, I wouldn’t make you do it”

That was all it took. The distinction between thinking and knowing. He didn’t say think he said know. Now I know what you’re all thinking this isn’t self discovery, that’s someone else’s opinion. Here’s the thing, this whole back story has been a lead up to this point. When we got in the boat with me as stroke. It felt weird. felt good. felt… something. A few strokes in my heart was still racing. Throughout most of the practice, set drills, pause drills, starts, whatever it was I still wasn’t settled. Then it happened. A full speed race piece.

Locked in at the start I closed my eyes as I head coach yell row.

It was all over for the next 3 years. I found my purpose. To row, to stroke, to race, to win, to lead. Nothing else really mattered. Outside of my team I didn’t care, I mean, I cared but it wasn’t the same. I didn’t take the SAT IIs because of races. That’s how important my team and winning was to me. This was all well and dandy until the end of my freshmen year of college. I have not raced since.

Now with most of my “purpose” gone what on earth am I supposed to do? I went through all manner of issues with self image eventually finding myself working as a dockworker at UPS Freight….

AAND I’ll end it there for now. I’ll finish the rest tomorrow, I’ve got errands to run and homework to do. As I’ve stated before I don’t proof read this so if you find any errors, don’t be an ass.

I started writing about judging people and whatnots. I got about 200 words in and deleted it. It just didn’t seem right for me at the time. I’m not in a serious mood, well I am but I don’t really feel like doing a deep dive into it right now. I am however halfway to passing out…. SUPER tired. I need to get some sleep…. *skip forward 24 hours*

So I was crazy tired all day yesterday at work. It made everything drag. I hate that feeling, where every moment feels, just bad. I look at my watch(Yes I still wear a watch) at the beginning of a task and check it at the end and no time has moved. I thought at least 45 minutes, nope 15.

Side note: I often refer to my brain, my mind, and me as 3 separate entities. So when I make reference to one influencing me I’m not THAT crazy… I swear.

It’s weird because it’s as though my mind knew I was suffering and decided to prolong it. Pretty sure my mind has it out for me.

My friend, I won’t say her name, but it starts with a B and ends with a rianne gave me some advice recently and I’m going to trrrryyyy to listen. It’s not happening so far though.

I think I’ve decided the angle I want to take with my blog now. I’ll go back and forth between just dumping my thought process down onto this in which ever way it happens to fall out. Kind of like pouring a bucket with no spout onto a flat bit of concrete. It’ll just go everywhere. I didn’t write that very well. The other side of it will be an actual focused inner discussion on whatever topic I fancy that day. If you couldn’t tell already this is a bucket day.

I want a cheeseburger. I also like potatoes.

Have you seen Bravest Warriors on Cartoon Hangover? My goodness… If you haven’t you need to fix that ASAP. Catbug is by far one of the best cartoon characters I’ve ever seen. That show is also one of the best YouTube shows I’ve ever watched. Each episode is only about 6-8 minutes. Totally worth watching.

I’m going for a walk at a park today even though it’s raining. I think I need to leave my house more on my days off.

I have a project I want to try. Building a solar forge, but I’m waiting until my shirt that says SCIENCE! comes in the mail so I can record the video while wearing it. Maybe I should buy a lab coat and goggles to go with it?

… Sooo.. I’m going to go.

I promise the next one will have more direction/focus…. or at least I promise to try. I can do that, try. I mean I’m not a Jedi or anything. Or am I? DUH DUh Duh….

Nope I’m a wizard! Harry?

I really need to just end this before I melt out through my nose.

Crash and Burn

Casey’s Brain

Sometimes I say things that are not phrased the best. Initially I started this by saying “death is a funny thing(as in peculiar)” After typing it I immediately deleted it. Death is not a funny thing, death is permanent, final. Death is not funny.

When someone dies a great many things happen. People cry, people send condolences, they pay tribute, they mourn. Some think on the past, others try not to dwell. A lot of it stems from the circumstances of their death. Suicide. Suicide is one of those topics discussed so delicately. Some say it’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem, others say it’s a cowards way out. I say, nothing. I won’t go into my personal experiences with this topic on my blog, but I can say one thing. We don’t know why. We will never know the why. “Oh he was rich, he was famous he was blah blah blah” He was a person. A person with feelings and difficulties just the same as anyone else. 

My facebook and twitter blew up with condolences and praise. Actor, comedian, comedian, actor. Laughs, funny, Peter Pan, Jack, Mrs.Doubtfire, Genie. Don’t get me wrong these are all sentimental things for me too. I grew up with his works. He made me laugh, and cry, and feel all manner of emotions as I grew into an adult. It wasn’t until I grew up that I learned about his problems. We view these men and women not as people, but as skills and traits. Objectified to entertainment entities. That was his job, it may have been his passion/hobby, but was it who he was? He was a comedian yes, a great one. He was an actor, a fabulous actor at that. But first and foremost he was a man. Just a man. He was also a son(though his parents passed quite some time ago). He was a husband, a father, a brother, and a friend.. Now I obviously didn’t know him, but I wish I did. I have heard and read many great things about him over the years. How good of a person he was, how much he did to help others. He was a good man. A good person. He was more than the sum of his accomplishments though they were great. Sometimes that becomes a burden in it’s own right. 

I will remember him as the man.

Robin, I will pray for you and your family this evening. May whatever burden that caused this be put to rest and may you find peace.