The question becomes, and perhaps always has been, how can I leverage my current skills and resources to take part in the evolution of human knowledge in a way that I deem healthy and responsible for the human race?  Addendum: in a way that is healthy, responsible and prosperous for the evolution of all life.

I’m pretty sure pop music is out.  Blogging too.  The general video games industry is out as well.  So where does that leave me?  Let’s see.  I, um, have a high school diploma.  I went to programming school for a year and know my way around java.  But not so much these days.  I’m a good drummer?

If I was living in Europe I would just go to a university.  Take math.  Become an engineer.  But I live in America.  And that shit is expensive.   And I’m 15 years late to the college party.  Shit.

Ok. Let’s reevaluate this again.  I am a living entity.  I exist in a small region of the universe.  I will die very soon in the scheme of things.  I have one small spark of life.  What do I do with it?

I had some ideas a while back on merging my intellectual desires with my personal momentum as a music artist.  I’m still working on those, though sometimes “work” just means watering the garden in the back of my mind, trying to protect the seedlings until the spring arrives.  But something still doesn’t fit right.  I feel like I’m riding a horse at top speed towards a brick wall.  Revision: my horse has been painfully slow, and it refuses to change course.

It’s easy to get lost.  The maze once seemed small.  The world: no bigger than a town or two.  You chose a path.  With a little bit of hard work you would succeed.  Like Stephen King.

Things get fuzzy quickly. When you stand in the streets of San Francisco you can see the fog rolling down.  The nature of such things is that you have no idea how close you are to being out of it.  You could be inches from escape and never know.

Remember when graphic designers were going to be rich?

I wonder if authors see the demotion to weekly columnist as heart breaking.  Talk about pandering to have your voice heard.  What’s so important about your voice anyways?

Do professional photographers want to kill the animated gif creator who’s making more bank than them?  Wedding #gifographer.

What of the metal guitarist?  I feel bad for that guy.  But not really.  He’s still commenting on an era that’s long past.  Who wants to be reminded of those awkward years anyways?

Evolution is king.  I think it always has been.  It just comes faster now.  Commodity culture grows ever faster too.  But there’s only so much mass to it.  The larger it grows the thinner it’s stretched.  It’s stretched so far now that it’s splitting.  At least I hope.  Niches are king.  Only the king of the niche will make money.  There’s no money in anything.  And therefore we are free.

Who wants to start a band these days?  That’s not a path to success or “fame”.  There’s hardly any clubs to play.  You start a band because you’re fucking crazy.  You write because you saw something you want to create.  Unless you’re writing to be a columnist.  Then you’re just an asshole.

The ego is king.  And the ego also stinks more than it ever has.  These are good things, I think.  It allows us to find the transformative power of everything.

I used to be held back because I was a musician.  Focusing on anything else was a detriment to my craft.  It’s what I was sold on.  You can be a human being or a ninja.  You can’t be both.  Now you can.  You can live creatively.  You can tell a story however you deem.  There’s no loss and no gain.  You can just transform a scene in whatever way that scene needs. 

And isn’t that what it’s all about?  Wanting something to be different, even slightly, and being the brave motherfucker to stand up and embarrass yourself to get it going?  Activism is art.  Art is art.  It’s all just bravery and vision, and it can’t be commoditized.  Until it can.  And then you have the 80’s, and all the confusion and dead ends that made.

The maze is fucking enormous.  We see it now.  It’s impossible to penetrate.  We can just be human beings again.  Good human beings.  We can make the maze a wonderful place, and stand on each other’s shoulders to peak beyond the fog. 

Words are code.  I am designing an app out of paragraphs. The medium is not important.  .preference
I got hung up there.  I was a coat on a rack wishing I were a sweater.  It’s summer.

The automatic grammar check highlights the error in my code.  I am afraid of being outmoded [historical origin: .outdated].  Therefore I get hung up on the medium.  It’s all the same.  Just .preference.

I remember a man in my computer programming class.  He was older than I.  I was 23.  He must’ve been 35.  Maybe older.  People age so differently.  He was in an electro pop band.  His wife wanted to be Madonna.  She was not Madonna.  Every time I looked at him I could smell the outmode.  He found something and kept it.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  Except that no one will ever take him seriously.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  Unless you want to be taken seriously.  He did.  [i think]

What happens when your 10,000 hours are dedicated to .outdated electro pop?  Or to wasting time on the internet?  Or to thinking about what to dedicate your 10k hrs 2?  Or to working your shit job?  How many 10,000 hours do we get?