Thoughts in Passing I

Dear Rap Game,

All I want is mixtape hustle on studio album releases. Is that really too much to ask for?

Pretty much everyone

"I don’t like publicly announcing all of the happenings and details of my life. Why? Because I think reality broadcasting is the pettiest form of media."
"In terms of social networking, I find it hilarious that as teenagers, we altered our names to individuate ourselves amongst our peers and find it stupid later on… only to do it again as adults to shroud ourselves from employers and find it stupid from the start."

Solitary Confinement

I’ve been watching a good amount of HBO’s Oz lately, because I used to catch random episodes when we used to have premium cable. In short, it’s a TV drama that takes place in a maximum security correctional facility and follows the lives of inmates and correctional administration and the interactions between them.

Looking past all of the justice/penal system inconsistencies, scenes of blatant melodrama, escalated daily tension, and onscreen penes (it’s an actual word, look it up), I’ve found that it holds a interesting parallel to everyday life. But not in the sense where gang-related coups and retaliation shankings are normal occurrences; it’s far more id vs. ego. Throw away/reconfigure the preset superego values that govern our actions, and it all makes sense. It’s far more relative than meets the eye.

I guess what struck me hardest, since it’s what’s been bothering me as of late, was the concept of isolation. “But Adrian, isn’t that what prison is? A place for criminals to reflect upon their offenses?” Why, yes. Yes it is. But first imagine this-

A set weekly schedule including: a job with health benefits, elective classes, inclusive hobby and interest groups. Access to: a library with study spaces, computers with internet capabilities, recreational activities, gym facilities. A minimalistic room with: a bunk to share a with a roommate, storage for personal belongings, restroom facilities, lights out between 8-10.

It was evident where this was going. “I get it now! Life is like a prison, you dreary asshole.” YES! And no. A whole lot of no.

Look at the above description of (close/medium-security) prison and notice how it can parallel nearly any institution: school, camp, health facility, planned family vacation. The idea isn’t that life is prison. Before “correctional facilities” , what did people use in simile to describe a desolate laborious life? (For the sake of pushing the idea forward, I’ll ignore the concepts of slavery and “bad side” of the afterlife) Life is what we choose it to be. We lead it where we can based on our abilities and limitations. We are the masters of our own destinies. We are often the creators of the prisons of our minds and bodies. We throw ourselves into solitary confinement…

But then why does it feel like someone else has that key instead? Why do we sometimes resign ourselves to the stagnation of our lives, accepting the sentence that our own judge has passed upon us? Why do we find comfort in our “cells” knowing full well that we’ve become prisoners?

Note to Self #1

Concerning the dozens of self-embarrassing things you’ve done in the past -  those who remember the event(s) have resigned them as a fond or forgotten memory. Those who don’t recall it that way, including you, most definitely should.

A Second Preface

Because I need two to be understood.

I’ve denounced “personal” entries in the past, but then again, I may have posted several before. (Please don’t look back into the archives). I had better revise my statement - I denounce wah-wah entries that do not promote/include unique experience, uncommon knowledge, or an underlying and intelligently placed moral/message/lesson. (Still [probably] guilty). In the upcoming entries, you’l see that my words don’t represent a desperate cry for help, but instead a ________, a ________ ________ of who I am and who I have become.

Not with Horns and Drums, but Instead Footsteps and Humming

The King has not returned to his throne. The Hero has rebounded from his fall. The Phoenix has not risen from his ashes. The man has returned to his element.

When you crack and strip away the hard outer shell of the ego, and dig deep into the nucleus of a man, you find something much more raw - and I don’t mean one’s viscera. You take away the pretense, the facade, the projected image of a person and you find something much more relatable. You find something HUMAN. I used to post entries that I thought would be entertaining, interesting, cool. I’m through being cool. I’m through being (so) self conscious of my words. I just need to get them out again.