Actual life update forthcoming, of course...but for now just this:
I'm officially making a commitment to stay single for a good long while. Or rather, I'm committing to dating myself.
(...and not just because I can get lucky every night.)
More later, dahhlings-
Monday, January 28, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
On This Newfangled Year
Happy 2013!
Goodbye 2012!
I can't say I made any resolutions per se...especially considering I feel like I'm on an ongoing quest to resolve myself to things. Be healthier! Cook more! Manage my finances! Compliment more people on their rockin' badonks! That said though, I like to take some time every year to make some kind of assessment of where I stand and where I WANT to stand. I like those mirror moments. The times when you can look at your life, your choices, with honesty and authenticity. Without judgment.
Judge less!
Watching Jiro Dreams of Sushi the other night, I realized where I think my energies are headed. MINOR SPOILER ALERT: Jiro's father left at a very young age, and he essentially struck out on his own without looking back. It was just him out there, as a child, with nothing but his work ethic to keep his head above water.
Phenomenal.
And scary.
Unlike Jiro, that didn't result in my intense dedication to my own life on my own terms. It resulted in waiting for permission to live.
I spent many many many years of my life waiting for something. Waiting for a command like a dog with a treat on his nose. I've had the luxuries of time and safety. Even when I've felt like it was just me alone in the big bad world, there has ALWAYS been someone there to have my back. For that, I'm eternally grateful. Even so, I've used it as a crutch. I dedicated my life to being SOMETHING for SOMEONE, or at other times, EVERYTHING for EVERYONE. I stood on the side of the road holding a sign that read "Wherever YOU'RE going" and waited to be picked up and dumped off on another, colder, lonelier stretch of the highway. I hitched so far from myself that when I turned back, there was nothing but dust and tumbleweeds against a bleak sky. I'd curse and stamp my foot, then doggedly pick up my sign and wait. And wait.
I balanced this biscuit on my nose everywhere I went, and when people would say "Okay boy, GET IT!" I'd look bewildered and walk away. Then I'd feel guilty about it.
I was jealous of the people that seemed to 'get it'. The self-assured people that could act without regard to the sabotaging voices in their heads screaming "WHAT IF THAT'S NOT THE RIGHT THING?" I started to think there was something wrong with me. I'd spent months at a time doing judgmental, symptomatic checklists of my faults without any result. I'd fall to my knees and scream "WHYYYY?" as if I'd just realized that it was EARTH. ALL. ALONG. I'd bury my eyes in the past and wonder why it wasn't like this before. What happened? WHERE DID I GO WRONG? All the while never noticing that I could just eat the damn treat myself and be done with it. Done with the waiting. Done with the worry and the paralyzing fear that one simple mistake or imperfection would make my life null and void.
Yet something still got in my way. I felt like a massive, catastrophic, misstep would render me helpless to do anything but leap from a rooftop like the worst superman impersonator ever. When I'd felt my worst, there was always someone else there to lift up my bootstraps for me.
Or rather, as I'm beginning to see more and more clearly, there was always someone there who believed in me enough to never let me throw in the towel. And I didn't. I told myself that it's never been ME that's had my back. I told myself that all I did, I did with a sense of obligation and a fear of disappointing someone more important than I am. I created this mythology that I was a broken person, barely hanging on through the grace of those who cared about me. I told myself that my energies were ever limited and my ultimate goal was to be left alone--so I didn't have to disappoint anyone ever again. I didn't want enemies. I didn't want to let anyone in either. I didn't want to shine too bright, because that's when you fell the furthest.
I didn't want my dad to leave again.
I didn't want to feel what I felt as a child, so I carried myself as if I were. I froze my fears and kept them in a box marked "Monsters".
But monsters aren't real.
And so, here I am. A little banged-up, but far better for those scrapes. Infinitely more confident, more creative, and more excited about everything life has to offer. I accept my role in the world and carve it out with my bare hands. It's the only role that you can ever truly fall back on, and I am beyond grateful for everyone that had a hand in getting me to where I am, whether they know it or not. Authenticity has no judgment.
So on that note, let's take hands and careen into this New Year with boldness, humor, and curiosity. Let's rip off our clothes and sing through the streets. If people are staring, goddammit, let em stare! Let em' think what they think! In the eloquent words of one Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Haters gonna' hate." If somebody has a problem with me, well then, they're not obligated to live my life.
Happy Goddamn New Year, lovelies!
Hearts n' Farts,
Dakotah
Goodbye 2012!
I can't say I made any resolutions per se...especially considering I feel like I'm on an ongoing quest to resolve myself to things. Be healthier! Cook more! Manage my finances! Compliment more people on their rockin' badonks! That said though, I like to take some time every year to make some kind of assessment of where I stand and where I WANT to stand. I like those mirror moments. The times when you can look at your life, your choices, with honesty and authenticity. Without judgment.
Judge less!
Watching Jiro Dreams of Sushi the other night, I realized where I think my energies are headed. MINOR SPOILER ALERT: Jiro's father left at a very young age, and he essentially struck out on his own without looking back. It was just him out there, as a child, with nothing but his work ethic to keep his head above water.
Phenomenal.
And scary.
Unlike Jiro, that didn't result in my intense dedication to my own life on my own terms. It resulted in waiting for permission to live.
I spent many many many years of my life waiting for something. Waiting for a command like a dog with a treat on his nose. I've had the luxuries of time and safety. Even when I've felt like it was just me alone in the big bad world, there has ALWAYS been someone there to have my back. For that, I'm eternally grateful. Even so, I've used it as a crutch. I dedicated my life to being SOMETHING for SOMEONE, or at other times, EVERYTHING for EVERYONE. I stood on the side of the road holding a sign that read "Wherever YOU'RE going" and waited to be picked up and dumped off on another, colder, lonelier stretch of the highway. I hitched so far from myself that when I turned back, there was nothing but dust and tumbleweeds against a bleak sky. I'd curse and stamp my foot, then doggedly pick up my sign and wait. And wait.
I balanced this biscuit on my nose everywhere I went, and when people would say "Okay boy, GET IT!" I'd look bewildered and walk away. Then I'd feel guilty about it.
I was jealous of the people that seemed to 'get it'. The self-assured people that could act without regard to the sabotaging voices in their heads screaming "WHAT IF THAT'S NOT THE RIGHT THING?" I started to think there was something wrong with me. I'd spent months at a time doing judgmental, symptomatic checklists of my faults without any result. I'd fall to my knees and scream "WHYYYY?" as if I'd just realized that it was EARTH. ALL. ALONG. I'd bury my eyes in the past and wonder why it wasn't like this before. What happened? WHERE DID I GO WRONG? All the while never noticing that I could just eat the damn treat myself and be done with it. Done with the waiting. Done with the worry and the paralyzing fear that one simple mistake or imperfection would make my life null and void.
Yet something still got in my way. I felt like a massive, catastrophic, misstep would render me helpless to do anything but leap from a rooftop like the worst superman impersonator ever. When I'd felt my worst, there was always someone else there to lift up my bootstraps for me.
Or rather, as I'm beginning to see more and more clearly, there was always someone there who believed in me enough to never let me throw in the towel. And I didn't. I told myself that it's never been ME that's had my back. I told myself that all I did, I did with a sense of obligation and a fear of disappointing someone more important than I am. I created this mythology that I was a broken person, barely hanging on through the grace of those who cared about me. I told myself that my energies were ever limited and my ultimate goal was to be left alone--so I didn't have to disappoint anyone ever again. I didn't want enemies. I didn't want to let anyone in either. I didn't want to shine too bright, because that's when you fell the furthest.
I didn't want my dad to leave again.
I didn't want to feel what I felt as a child, so I carried myself as if I were. I froze my fears and kept them in a box marked "Monsters".
But monsters aren't real.
And so, here I am. A little banged-up, but far better for those scrapes. Infinitely more confident, more creative, and more excited about everything life has to offer. I accept my role in the world and carve it out with my bare hands. It's the only role that you can ever truly fall back on, and I am beyond grateful for everyone that had a hand in getting me to where I am, whether they know it or not. Authenticity has no judgment.
So on that note, let's take hands and careen into this New Year with boldness, humor, and curiosity. Let's rip off our clothes and sing through the streets. If people are staring, goddammit, let em stare! Let em' think what they think! In the eloquent words of one Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Haters gonna' hate." If somebody has a problem with me, well then, they're not obligated to live my life.
Happy Goddamn New Year, lovelies!
Hearts n' Farts,
Dakotah
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
On Legacy (To a Degree)
I took a few hours this morning to read though my Grandma's collected works of poetry. There was nobody else in the house save for our cat and the dog we're babysitting until tomorrow, so I just sat in the sun room with a pot of tea and dove into her incredible words.
Throughout this emotional handful of hours I kept finding myself looking up from her book, breathing back stray tears, and smiling. It felt like we were having a conversation. She was discussing topics we'd touched on all too rarely--and her words were just...right. She talked of legacies and lives and not-quite-infinites and completely infinites. She said so much in so little and reminded me, reminded me here and now, where I came from.
All too often I find myself getting smug. Afflicted with the disease of modernity, I smirk in the mirror and pat myself on the back for knowing so much. In the same instant, a chill runs down my spine and I have no idea why.
In reality, it's the fear that I've forgotten everything. That the world just appeared earlier today and I have to hit the ground running. I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing because the heroes in my childhood stories were blood relatives and the monsters were human-shaped and everyone seems to have forgotten about our beautiful, ragged past. I bet Dorothy wakes up in cold sweats sometimes, scrambling for her ruby slippers.
It's easy to get lonely here with no family nearby and friends that have only known the most recent version of me. It's easy to try to forget where I came from and what I came from. But why? Why should I forget what I've fought for?
Today, I am feeling grounded, and humble, and grateful.
Thanks, Grandma. I love you.
Dakotah
Throughout this emotional handful of hours I kept finding myself looking up from her book, breathing back stray tears, and smiling. It felt like we were having a conversation. She was discussing topics we'd touched on all too rarely--and her words were just...right. She talked of legacies and lives and not-quite-infinites and completely infinites. She said so much in so little and reminded me, reminded me here and now, where I came from.
All too often I find myself getting smug. Afflicted with the disease of modernity, I smirk in the mirror and pat myself on the back for knowing so much. In the same instant, a chill runs down my spine and I have no idea why.
In reality, it's the fear that I've forgotten everything. That the world just appeared earlier today and I have to hit the ground running. I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing because the heroes in my childhood stories were blood relatives and the monsters were human-shaped and everyone seems to have forgotten about our beautiful, ragged past. I bet Dorothy wakes up in cold sweats sometimes, scrambling for her ruby slippers.
It's easy to get lonely here with no family nearby and friends that have only known the most recent version of me. It's easy to try to forget where I came from and what I came from. But why? Why should I forget what I've fought for?
Today, I am feeling grounded, and humble, and grateful.
Thanks, Grandma. I love you.
Dakotah
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
I Don't Think I Want It
This Post's Soundtrack
Despite teaching at a childrens' hospital, rehearsing a clown piece for a local cabaret, and working on two plays (a Jabberwocky adaptation and a one person show) I've been phenomenal about telling myself I'm not actually up to anything. This has been another running theme for me in the continuing adventures of "Trying to navigate my late twenties." I'm certain it's another hamstringing mythology I keep intact for the sake of survival. So let's examine it, shall we? Sure, yeah. Time to get forthcoming.
I'm lonely in a crowd. Considering that my mom was a single working mother who HAD to spend hours upon hours at work in order to support two children, my brother and I typically didn't see her until the evenings. On weekdays this meant coming home from school and playing outside with a buddy or parking in front of the Nintendo for a few hours until our Mom came home. I'd begun to develop this idea that I was more or less a Free Agent. I could do what I wanted, a freedom I was not used to at the time (I was seven or so,) but this also meant I was on my own if there was a crisis of some kind. For example, as children my brother and I spent a TON of time in the break room at Bookshop Santa Cruz, as we would go to work with our Mom on weekends. One day, we were in the stock room attempting to copy the SWEET MARTIAL ARTS MOVES from a favorite game. So mid spin-kick, I stumbled over my feet and fell into a pile of halogen lights with a raucous crash. I was horrified. I had no idea what to do. I was sitting there crying in a pile of broken glass and powder. After a few terrified moments, my mother and some other staffers poured into the stock room to see what had happened. I was fine, but wildly embarrassed and fairly scared I'd be...like...prosecuted for breaking a ton of lights. To my surprise, everyone was just making sure I was okay. They didn't really care about the lights. I couldn't understand that. I thought this was MY problem, and I'D have to fix it. As a matter of fact, I still find it hard to believe that people have my back or honestly care about my wellbeing.
This sense of being alone--or better yet--the sense that I'm not even really there has stuck around like an unfortunate growth for years upon years. As I got older, I unconsciously tempered it into a sense of being 'different'. I knew I'd had a separate experience of life than others, but instead of allowing that to bring me closer to people, ALL of which have had different life experiences, I used it as something to hide behind. I didn't allow people in because it let me keep the 'upper hand' of being strange. I never knew that I was actually the one losing out. In reality, I didn't trust other people to understand where I was coming from, or what I felt, or...really...the first thing about me. I never considered myself a worthwhile player in my life, or anyone else's. It really didn't MATTER what the Free Agent did. I figured I'd slip through the cracks and not be counted in the end anyway, so what was the use? Really? Things just HAPPEN.
They just happen.
Wait-
No, that's not right.
I thought the state of the world was 'powerlessness in the face of overwhelming chaos' and I was a genius for being the only one who knew. For being on the inside. Only much later did I realize how untrue that was--but part of the damage had been done. And it's still there. "If the world is unpredictable chaos, then I'm going to hang back and rely on things I can DO. Places where I can still express some remote agency. I'll gather together a handful of comforts and be satisfied with them until someone discovers my hiding spot."
UGH. Just...ew.
I don't know how many others have felt this way, but it's really not fun. You end up disliking alot of people and rolling your eyes at the world. You cross your arms and stamp your feet, whining about how the NORMIES don't realize how messed up the world REALLY is. You complain about how nobody seems to truly grip their insignificance, and your prize is the most brittle sense of invincibility one can manage. Yes, hiding was a deep survival instinct for me. It was necessary. With the kidnapping, my upbringing had a brand of danger that some other folks haven't experienced. It's unfortunate that it took place at such a formative time for me...but like other folks my age, I'm now in a place where I can look at the why aspect of who I am. And hopefully while I'm at it, I can do some good.
So, to anyone who has felt the way I do--I encourage you to give the world another chance. If you think you KNOW something, dig deeper. Think harder. Get up. See who you are NOW, because that changes every single instant. Experience beats assumption EVERY TIME. Why not try some experiments? I guarantee you, your limits have only expanded. You're a wealth of life, don't wait for permission to express that. Allow yourself to accept your own good. Obsessing over your failures will make you repeat them. Being authentic will make you fly. Accept the well of power that you have.
Why?
Because it's fucking unlimited.
Much love--and I've got your back,
Dak
OH SNAP, WE GOT SOME BULLET POINTS?
- Just...just do yourself a favor and read this. I love discussions that folks aren't normally willing to have. Especially conversations about my favorite subject.
- DmC. The new Devil May Cry game? Okay, so it's totally polarizing fans. I have to write about this sometime.
- WALKING DEAD WALKING DEAD WALKING DEEEAAARRRGGGGHHHHH
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Whoops...Dropped the Beat.
I don't consider myself musically inclined. I play around on the guitar a bit, though I'm pretty spotty. I can bang out some chords and follow rhythm, but that's the extent of my playing. Even so, it hasn't stopped me from messing around in the music realm--or doofing around with Acoustica Mixcraft. That said, I present to you some music I made!
If it all sounds pretty videogamey, it's because I specifically made these tracks to use with the games I make ever so often. So BOOM. HERE WE GO, BRO. (Also, if for some reason you're really into any of these tracks, feel free to download em'. I'm pretty sure I made that an option.)
If it all sounds pretty videogamey, it's because I specifically made these tracks to use with the games I make ever so often. So BOOM. HERE WE GO, BRO. (Also, if for some reason you're really into any of these tracks, feel free to download em'. I'm pretty sure I made that an option.)
In case you're wondering, the official title to that one is 'Crappy Punk Song'. I tried to mimic anime intros as best as possible to make a 'General Upbeat Intro Theme'.
That's theme music I made for a character I came up with. It ends abruptly since it'll be playing in a loop once I import it into my game-makin' software.
So this track will serve as general background music for the more hallowed stages of the game.
Okay, so this is the battle music for said game. I thought it'd be fun to make it kinda' surf rock-ish. Most games aren't going to sound like this, so I figured it be interesting to make it a kind of centerpiece (you tend to hear battle music once every goddamn 2 seconds). Also, it's my current phone ringtone. This one also cuts off in the interest of looping the fight music.
And finally, here's the theme music for yet another character. Incidentally, his design is something I've been doodling since I was a teen. Oddly enough, now that I've got a theme song for him, I can really see who the character is.
Hey, so there you have it! I'm really diggin' this music program, but the downside may be pretty evident. Since it doesn't actually require much in the way of musicianship, the songs start to sound samey after a while. Couple that with a limited (yet enormous) number of instrumental loops, and you'll eventually hit a tipping point. The next logical step would be to...well...to get better at making music or dedicate myself to the piano for a while.
That's all for now! Ta-tas!
Love,
Dak
OH WAIT NO, P.S. BULLET POINTS
- Went to a morning Suzuki practice at an Aikido dojo today. HOLY CRAP IT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN MISSING AND IT WAS FREE AND INCREDIBLE AND OH GOD NO MORE STOMPING PLEASE.
- I'm trying to decide whether my November project is going to be a one person show, a full-length play, a series of short plays, a novel, a game, or a graphic novel of some kind. Or...y'know...procrastination.
- I've been teaching at the pediatrics center at a local hospital with some colleagues recently and I pretty much love every moment of it. Well...I guess we've only had one class thus far...but STILL! Awesome.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Black in Action
This post's soundtrack is...
Long time no post and so forth! That song, by the by, is by The Negro Problem, one of my favorite bands. I've recently gone into their discography a bit more and found gems like that. RIGHT? Yeah.
So, UPDATES. It's difficult to remember everything that's happened since the previous post (and, frankly, it's been a LOT.) I'll hit you with a few.
Wrapped up the season a few months ago. Fun stuff, as usual. Put The Basement Company up at the Linen Building. Taught a 6 week clowning course dealie at a charter school, co-wrote a childrens' play with some buddies and had a public reading. I think things are pretty promising as far as that goes. Filmed a short with some AWESOME local filmmakers. Currently performing in a horror-themed puppet show that my buddy wrote.
Whew...yeah, so there's that!
Outside of stage stuff, it's been...well it's been a bit of a rollercoaster. As you may have noticed, the general theme of many of these entries has been about trying to change things about myself. In that introspection, I've examined a lot of aspects of myself that I've been ignoring for a long time. Things like my tendency toward panic, my propensity to go along with anything people say with little discretion, and the notion that I'm probably going to die before I hit 30. I KNOW. I'm not saying these are well-founded or even based entirely in reality, but these ideas (and many other self-destructive 'truths') have been a part of me for a ridiculously long time. So much so that I barely notice myself leaning toward those thoughts until it's too late. At least that's how it was for a very long time. I bought into my mythology of unworthiness because I thought that's how I was supposed to feel. It also tended to make people more comfortable when I adopted that attitude.
OR SO I THOUGHT.
Turns out it just attracted me to people who were willing to go along with it. And I obliged. Happily!
So now comes the hard part of...well...basically eschewing some deeply-ingrained survival instincts.
No big, right? Let's give it a shot.
BE GOOD, CATS!
Lurve,
Dak
BULLET POOOOINTS!
- If you're not listening to Azealia Banks, you're doing yourself a disservice.
- Went to Ashland to see some OSF shows! Animal Crackers and Troilus And Cressida were incredible. Medea Macbeth Cinderella missed the mark, but was still interesting to watch.
- I'm teaching at a Childrens' Hospital now, too! Woo!
- Also I'm back at the Pretty Good-Smelling Lady Store.
- The last book I actually finished was no longer than 200 pages. I'm going to read some more.
- NaNoWriMo, yeah? YEAH? YEAH!??
Saturday, July 21, 2012
WD-40
Ah jeez, this thing became a creaky rusted bike for a while didn't it?
It's half an hour before I jump into rehearsals for The Winter's Tale. It's my second production of this show (already? weird) and I'm having a blast working with an enormous group of kind, talented folks. Also, my summer has been completely and utterly insane.
Big ol' huge news to follow, but I'll get into that when I have time to tell the entire tale. For now I just wanted to mention that I'm still alive and well...and undergoing an interesting mental shift. As I've mentioned time and again, I have a tendency to live beneath the wants and whims of others. Command me with enough force and I'll just to the chance to please you, no matter what. I'll be trailing behind at a distance, because that's what I thought I deserved. Unworthiness is an insidious beast that gets into your nervous system and cripples you from the inside out. I have several friends who seem to be fighting themselves more than anything else. The ones with a self-imposed structure of some kind are busy and happy, while those of us living piecemeal seem a little skittish yet hopeful. The friends of mine with big, open eyes are daunted by what they see. Those who squint through life seem pretty okay with things. Now this rule isn't hard and fast by any means, of course...it's just a general observation.
After gulping down some amazing words (courtesy of Imagine by Jonah Lehrer and Steal Like an Artist by Austin Kleon) I have a sudden urge to take myself less seriously and really be alright with looking like a moron. I mean I AM. I'm great at it--but it's an easy kind of looking stupid. I like looking dumb on my own terms, just like the hipsters that crown to dance floor to sarcastically emulate the flailing limbs of the crowd who is really into it, man. But that's me. I'm the spaz in the middle of the room, headbanging with short hair and busting out air-guitar solos. The fact of the matter is, you don't need your favorite song to make that okay. In the real world, you don't have to wait for the starting pistol. You can just sprint out of the gate. You're allowed.
Let me rephrase that-
I'M allowed.
To be continued of course.
Love,
Dak
It's half an hour before I jump into rehearsals for The Winter's Tale. It's my second production of this show (already? weird) and I'm having a blast working with an enormous group of kind, talented folks. Also, my summer has been completely and utterly insane.
Big ol' huge news to follow, but I'll get into that when I have time to tell the entire tale. For now I just wanted to mention that I'm still alive and well...and undergoing an interesting mental shift. As I've mentioned time and again, I have a tendency to live beneath the wants and whims of others. Command me with enough force and I'll just to the chance to please you, no matter what. I'll be trailing behind at a distance, because that's what I thought I deserved. Unworthiness is an insidious beast that gets into your nervous system and cripples you from the inside out. I have several friends who seem to be fighting themselves more than anything else. The ones with a self-imposed structure of some kind are busy and happy, while those of us living piecemeal seem a little skittish yet hopeful. The friends of mine with big, open eyes are daunted by what they see. Those who squint through life seem pretty okay with things. Now this rule isn't hard and fast by any means, of course...it's just a general observation.
After gulping down some amazing words (courtesy of Imagine by Jonah Lehrer and Steal Like an Artist by Austin Kleon) I have a sudden urge to take myself less seriously and really be alright with looking like a moron. I mean I AM. I'm great at it--but it's an easy kind of looking stupid. I like looking dumb on my own terms, just like the hipsters that crown to dance floor to sarcastically emulate the flailing limbs of the crowd who is really into it, man. But that's me. I'm the spaz in the middle of the room, headbanging with short hair and busting out air-guitar solos. The fact of the matter is, you don't need your favorite song to make that okay. In the real world, you don't have to wait for the starting pistol. You can just sprint out of the gate. You're allowed.
Let me rephrase that-
I'M allowed.
To be continued of course.
Love,
Dak
HEY MANG, YOU WANT SOME BULLET POINTS?
- The standup comedy scene here in town is on the up-and-up. Saw a show last night and haven't laughed that hard for that long in a WHILE.
- Games I'm playing: Breath of Fire 4 (finally caught up to where I was when I last played it a decade or so ago.) Fallout: New Vegas (old, yeah, but one I haven't beaten yet.) Persona 4 (same story here.)
- Went camping, got into nature, but didn't get a vacation from my brain, que sera.
- Redesigned an old comic of mine. Totally masturbatory side-project, but still SO MUCH FUN.
- Less masturbatory side projects include: Jabberwocky (children's play written by some buddies and I), Converting my dungeon apartment into an art space, 3 other plays on the docket (4 Loves, Flyboy, and an as-yet unnamed piece about the apocolypse), actual masturbating, Viewpoints-inspired production of Woyzeck.
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