Death never scared me, but I think it does now. I should clarify that death itself isn't scary per se, I do thoroughly believe it's a beautiful act of nature that shouldn't be feared, but what scares me is the inevitable build-up that leads to the final slumber. More so the pain the body and mind have to endure to hear Death knocking at their door. To me, that sense of anticipation is nature's cruelest act towards an individual. I never took into account the emotional toll death induces on a person. For most of my life, I detached myself from my own emotions. Not only was I sheltered from the basic emotions of life such as empathy, but my mind had no way of establishing if my feelings were healthy or not. Throughout high school, most of my days I felt numb and empty and my brain, was foggy. Despite feeling this way my mind never had any form of peace. Eternally I was already trapped within myself and stuck in a loop of never-ending hatred and disgust towards myself. An inner war within my psyche. If I acknowledged the wounds within myself I would be facing a demon so wicked and filled with disgust that I had no way of saving myself, and thus it was shoved so deeply down inside the vault of my mind. I did not want to face that kind of pain. I didn't want to walk within the labyrinth of my mind. All I wanted to do was hide. Hide from myself and others around me. Death to me was peaceful as it would put an end to my tired mind, but I never went through the act of facing death itself. Ideation was all I could do. I was too much of a coward, or maybe I was stronger than I thought I was because now I fear death.
I may no longer feel this way, but I still remember how it felt like. I've grown a lot in the past 7-8 years. Emotionally I'm much stronger and mature than I ever was. That's just a part of growing. Death is both scary and beautiful, and for me right now I am scared. Eventually, I will feel at peace after the deaths of the ones I know, but as of right now, I am scared. I've only encountered death twice in my life and that was from my grandparents. I was by their deathbeds when I saw their life finally leave their bodies. I wasn't sad for them, I did not cry, but I felt peace. The fear of death, however, didn't loom over me as they were not my parents. Hearing news from my mom that my dad's health has been rapidly deteriorating over the past year it's hard not to face the reality that he is dying. Since I was a kid I hoped my dad would die soon so I wouldn't have to deal with his behavior, or his health problems anymore. I was unempathetic and a dumb child who didn't understand how significant death was. I nearly lost him in 2008, but I was too young to understand the severity of that day, and how one single day can change the course of our lives within my family. Subtlety deep within the consciousness of my mind I counted the days to when my dad would kick the bucket. I've grown to believe my dad would die soon, and all of those years passed and he kept on living. However, now it feels different. He can barely walk, breathe, or move his body without pain. He is diabetic and has numerous health issues internally. It's concerning as he's only 55, and it's hard to believe it might be coming sooner than I thought.
As a kid, my relationship with my dad was pretty complicated. Nowadays I see him as kind of pathetic, and a part of me tries to be more empathetic and understanding towards him given the situation he was put through in life, but I can't seem to let go of that small amount of resentment I feel for how he treated me and my sister when we were kids, and even when we were teenagers. As I said I see him more as pathetic. In my eyes, all he does is whine and complain, and he is nowhere near as threatening or terrifying. In all honesty, I'd prefer it if he acted that way, but honestly, I still love and respect him. It's hard to write him off because a lot of what I love today was directly influenced by him. When someone has helped shape and define your identity it's not easy to ignore that person. He was the foundation, and I was the one who continued to branch out further beyond him, but again he is the foundation for the things I love today. I cannot ignore that. My dad is dying and when he passes whether it's a year from now, or in 5 years. I will forgive him. I spent years trying to figure out whether he is a man who should be forgiven, but I came to terms that he is a broken man who at least deserves one of his children to say that they forgive him.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve been thinking much more about my childhood and how little I read as a kid. In fairness, most kids do not enjoy reading at that age, and it’s definitely an acquired taste for any child to enjoy reading, but growing up, I struggled greatly just trying to sit down and read a book. I was diagnosed with ADHD in 1st grade, so anything that required sitting down and reading was off the table. I was able to read comics, manga, and graphic novels perfectly fine, but the moment you gave me a novel I wouldn’t dare touch it. I remember going to the library for the first time with my dad and I picked up Harry Potter, and for the time I was borrowing the book I only read a couple of pages and left it on a shelf until I would return it on its due date. It wasn’t until I was in middle school that I enjoyed reading a novel for the first time. I’m sure many middle schoolers read The Outsiders, and GOD DAMN. I loved that book, but I was only able to read it because my teacher knew of my ADHD and told me that an audiobook would help me focus. I took her advice and ever since I was given that tip, I was able to read every book I was assigned to, and I still use audiobooks to this day.
However, I still wasn’t a huge fan of reading, and even though audiobooks helped me greatly to picture the imagery in my head. I didn’t want to rely on it because every high schooler was insecure in some way or another. Including myself. I really wanted to prove to people that I was normal like everyone else (there is a lot of context to this but for another time). To add to my insecurities, I was in IEP classes, and I desperately wanted to get out of it because, in my eyes, I didn’t want to be associated with “dumb people.” I cringe whenever I look back at how I used to think and act. It was incredibly problematic, and I am so glad I am nowhere near the type of person I was in high school. Anyway, I read two books that were assigned to me with no audiobook, and it was pretty damn rough for me at the time. Reading a book always felt daunting due to the amount of pages, and I always felt like I would be unable to finish it within a certain timeframe. However, when I finished both 1984 and The Catcher In The Rye before everyone else in the class, it did give me some confidence that I could actually finish the books.
Nowadays, the thickness of a book doesn’t scare me like it used to, and my way of thinking regarding time has changed as well. It’s because if I can watch an anime that has 300+ episodes where each episode is 25 minutes long, I can probably finish a book quicker than the anime I’m currently binging. I can finish a book within 8-10 hours if I really want to binge read, and that’s the same amount of time as watching a 24 episode long anime with no breaks. Changing my mindset on time has made it significantly easier for me to pick up a book and just read.
I’ve come to appreciate how much my tastes in books have changed over the years. I used to hate the majority of modern classics (despite never reading them to give them a proper chance) because whenever I did read excerpts of modern classics in class I hated the flowery nature and old-fashioned language, and in my mind the books I was shown felt too inaccessible for my dumb teenager brain. Not to forget that in my mind the plots in modern classics felt too boring. It's why 1984 and The Catcher in the Rye stuck out so much. Sure they are considered modern classics, but the writing felt so modern and timeless. At the time those two novels were my favorite books, but when I finished reading Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy. All of that completely changed. It’s interesting because I was introduced to his works because of The Road like most people, and I read it in high school as well, and I’m a sucker for anything post-apocalyptic so it was right in my alley. As an edgy teen who loved gore and violence in media being told that Blood Meridian is a modern classic that had those two things immediately caught my eye.
Nothing could've prepared me for how difficult reading this book would be. I was roughly 17 when I attempted to read it. I was a pretty fresh reader, and I've read a few books here and there, but once I was hit with an incredibly dense novel with language and vocabulary that were completely out of my league. I just couldn't understand how to read it. I got frustrated and didn't pick it up for a long while until I decided one day at work I wanted to listen to the audiobook. That sprung me back into reading the book again, and as I kept reading and getting further into the story I loved every moment. As I've mentioned earlier as an adult my tastes have changed over time, or well I guess it mostly evolved. I used to only read horror novels by Stephen King or some form of sci-fi and fantasy, but now I love reading modern classics, philosophy, and political novels. Anything with some form of commentary within it has struck me way more than any fantasy I've read, and it's amazing how much I've grown to love modern classics in general.
Interestingly, I wanted to read more after I graduated because I wanted to become a better writer, but for me to get good at writing, not only did I have to practice, but I had to read more. It's been my driving force honestly, and I'm glad I can read a book and something within it would motivate me to write. I've explored authors I never thought I would like. Such as William Faulkner or Herman Melville because of Cormac McCarthy. Honestly, he has influenced me more than I ever thought an author would.
To myself, be less hard on yourself. You hold a lot more capabilities than you think. Your insecurities are preventing you from progress and you're more than what you think you are.
For most of my life, I’ve struggled with self-image and insecurities that plague my mind every single day. In ways I feel stupid when I lack common sense or make a very dumb decision whether low self-esteem or anxiety caused it. That alone just sounds like an excuse. Regardless, I make a lot of stupid decisions that make me question whether or not I’m actually plain stupid. I’m aware we all have our strengths, but do we say that just to cope? Intelligence is such a vague concept, too. It really doesn’t help that school perpetuates this kind of thinking early on with students. That intelligence is a measurable concept that requires one way of thinking that is only respectable when applied to academics. Then again, we really don’t know what actual intelligence is. We have a limited understanding of what intelligence really is. I used to say I’m not a thinker; I believe that is because of my crippling low self-esteem, and maybe it’s my fear of having an ego. I seem to struggle to find the line between ego and confidence. On the one hand, I understand self-acceptance and self-love, but on the other hand, there’s arrogance, vanity, and narcissism. How can one even differentiate pride? The sheer idea of ego and confidence to me is a very muddy spectrum that makes it nearly impossible for me to grasp. It’s easy to see the word and know the difference, but how easy is it feeling the difference between ego and confidence? Sometimes I’ll play dumb in front of my cousins, because to me it’s easier to put myself down than to have myself on a pedestal. In all honest truth, I genuinely don’t believe I’m dumb, but I find it easier to say it than to admit that I have actual capabilities. In a way, I am dumb for not applying my capabilities, so am I really wrong there? I fear that if I keep continuing to think I’m dumb that it’ll leave with me believing I am. A part of me believes this way of thinking is succeeding. Is this an example of cognitive dissonance or a self-fulfilling prophecy? I’m not so sure? I won’t know what is fact, fiction, or plain reality from the perspective of my own eyes or brain. I can barely rely on it, so how could I trust it?
A lot of times I try to distance myself from people because I guess in my weird way of thinking, it makes me invisible. However, there’s this co-worker I talk to in the hospital every once in a while. We have conversations about a lot of things, but mostly he hears me ramble on about music, underground scenes and the history that resides in them. I said earlier I used to say that I’m not a thinker until my co-worker said he wished there were more people like me who are thinkers. It genuinely caught me off-guard, and I told him I’m no thinker I’ve had my head bashed in many ways that I don’t think I’m capable of thinking. I know that I was defensive because I never received a compliment, let alone any validation of the things I ever said. This genuinely made me question what people thought of me. Cause all that went in my head was how negative I thought of myself. He told me after I retorted back, “Whenever we talk I am always learning something.” I never thought that the things I said would be heard by someone, at least. Most of the time, people don’t even bother paying attention to the things I say, and so I just say my peace, knowing it was thrown into the void, never to be resurfaced again. This blog functions for that entire reason. At least it’s in a place and not just a void.
Okay I know very well it's been a hot minute since I last posted anything on my blog. Funnily enough I've actually been spending a lot of time just writing for this site. It's just in the work in progress phase. I will be honest the Bad Religion shrine did burn me out, BUT I did not stop working on other projects for this site. I can't deny that after moving into my apartment that I did take my sweet time to relax. I mean I feel like I deserve some rest after moving in furniture and unpacking. I've been playing Red Dead Redemption 2 and The Sims 4, while working on my little writing projects for my site at work. The only thing I've been updating on here during February was the "Song of the Week" and I do plan on making an archive page of each song I shared. Regardless this month has been very busy, and it even ended with a bang at least. I went to Just Another Gig Vol. 6 and I'm already working on talking about it in a separate post. But man ever since the move I've been working out every morning, writing a little bit, playing video games here and there, and honestly just living. I mentioned this before but I work a full time job at the hospital, so it's a little tricky to manage so many different things. Especially with how busy this month has been for me. I honestly hope I don't get too burnt out.
Today, I finally made the decision to delete Instagram off my phone for good. However, I don't think I can truly get rid of my account since it holds so many memories. I'll still keep it to stay in touch with friends and family as well as being notified for any upcoming show or concert, but other than that I want to distance myself as much as possible from any social media app. Especially anything from Meta. TikTok was the first and it's been great without it, but I feel very uncomfortable deleting Instagram. Weirdly I feel more like a slave to it than I did with TikTok.
With all of the AI content I keep seeing on my feed, and the abhorent amount of terrible IG content I think it was a long overdue decision. Although, I do find myself dealing with the same restlessness and unease from leaving social media, and it is one of the things I am trying to counter. At least I'm not doom scrolling through Instagram Reels because seriously what is the point of deleting TikTok if you're going to just watch them on Instagram Reels? (I'm pointing at myself here)
Apparently, there is a new situation that happened at work today and it's related to rumors. Usually, whenever someone starts spreading rumors about me I'm pretty oblivious to it, and if I am aware of it I brush it off because I've always had the mindset of "out of sight, out of mind". However, I can't do that working at a hospital since if that spreads it goes straight to the supervisor and I could get fired for it. Another thing to note is that my mom works in the same position I do, but she's very vocal about everything that happens in the hospital. Not to mention she also has seniority as she's been there for over 20 years. So whenever shit like this happens she will immediately jump into action.
I will say it is frustrating to have someone say "he isn't dusting the vents when cleaning the ORs" and is pointing all the blame at me for the caked-up amount of dust in the vents that's been accumulated for months. Here's the thing I am not the only person working in the ORs. I'm also NOT the one who dusts when I'm with a partner. The way the teams are set up for cleaning Cath Labs is that one person wipes and dusts, while the other pulls trash and mops. I always tell this to any partner I'm working with "Just letting you know I usually pull trash and mop because I'm not fast enough at wiping." I do this because it helps me keep up with my partner since I'm still "new" compared to everyone else. If I do any wiping I do dust the vents, but that's rare cause I'm usually the one pulling trash and mopping.
I think she might've formulated this type of information in her head by eavesdropping on a conversation I had with a coworker of mine who said "Did you know that the MRI rooms down in Imaging haven't been dusted in months that so much dust fell to the ground." And I told him "I had no idea we're supposed to clean the MRI rooms. I wasn't taught that at all when I started working down there." (I'm still new to Imaging) The thing is that means no one cleaned the MRI rooms, or if they did no one ever dusted them. The person who was teaching me down in Imaging NEVER mentioned the MRI rooms, so I was left making a mistake without ever realizing it was a mistake. Regardless all the dust build up gets accumulated over months of not being cleaned. You can't blame one person for it. Again it is frustrating that rumors like this are spread, so I'm kind of forced to go and see the supervisor to clear this up.
For the past few days I've been working on my Bad Religion shrine, and I knew the hard part would be writing down all the information. Even though I have so much of it stored in my head the moment I sit down to just write I begin to struggle. I know their history like the back of my hand, and every single record released including the year. Not to mention the correlation between Epitaph Records and the bands signed on them, or how they became impactful. I just seem to struggle to find the right words to say when talking about them. I've been a fan of this band for years and have been wanting to talk about them freely, but I have to remind myself that writing is also a form of art and a skill just like drawing. Even if you envision the idea and know what you want to add like facts and information. How it comes out can come off as entirely different. It'll just leave you dissatified, but I guess it just adds to the challenge of owning a blog and a website, but man it can be really frustrating you know.
I'm about to move into a new apartment in a week, but I know a part of me is going to miss my current home. In a lot of ways I genuinely loved living here, but I have a lot of issues that made it to where I couldn't continue living here anymore. The most significant reason is that my work is too far away for me. Let me ask you this would you want to walk 25 minutes to the closest bus stop? And then ride 2 buses to get to work? That amount of travel, waiting, and walking adds up to 1 hour and 30 minutes. I was doing that every single day. Rain, thunder, hail, frost, and whatever weather the season was in. It wasn't easy especially since I work an evening shift. I'd have to find a ride to drive me home since buses aren't operating past 11 pm.
However, that isn't the only reason I felt the need to move out. Despite my home being a decent size for the price of $1,600 a month. I mean hell an actual backyard and front yard with monthly maintenance taking care of the work sheesh that's an absolute steal. It's just that my room is practically an office. You see my roommate has the master bedroom, and it was agreed upon that I should have the small bedroom because I was going to pay $675 a month instead of $800 cause I was going to have surgery soon. See it worked then cause of my financial situation, but now since I work at the hospital and am being paid $18 an hour I don't need to worry about being tight on money. The problem is now that the rent doesn't reflect how small my bedroom is.
I think what really sucks about my office bedroom is that I don't have any room for a dresser. I don't have room for my CRT TV, my records, or my turntable. All "I" could fit was my TV stand, computer desk, two small bookshelves, and my bed. I put "I" in quotations because I didn't set up my room my sister did cause she's a pro at interior design. Anyway, I just felt that the room was just not cutting it for me the size just couldn't compensate for how many interests and hobbies I have.
Now as much as I actually do like my roommate. I think I started to become more frustrated as time went on. Especially when he started dating again. I was unaware of how insufferable he'd be with his girlfriend, but I can't voice much about that since it's really not my place. But him rarely being at home and always staying with his girlfriend makes me question why he's still renting this place. He's been doing this for a couple of months now ever since he started dating, and I've been the only person occupying the house. I am also the only one who cleans and maintains it while he's gone. I've told him this before and he would say "I am home you're just at work." I always find that bullshit because even though I leave the house at 3:20 pm I can tell whether or not he was home by the way he locks the door. For example, I lock both locks every time I leave for work. I know no one is occupying the place and I don't want it to get broken into. I know he hasn't been home cause he only locks the top lock. Not to mention my mom would drive me home from work and would say "Your roommate isn't home again?" and I'd always have to nod and say yes. It's bad enough that I have seen him 2 times during the whole week and even then he's not in the house for very long. My question is what's the point of renting this place when he's barely here?
I guess I'm just nitpicking now but I remember he would complain that I wouldn't do the dishes, but I am always at home, and I do them. He does occasionally clean when I see him every once in a blue moon, but I've never seen him clean the bathroom, sweep or mop the floors, or tidy up the house. I never complained about it to him, but I mean that kind of stuff starts to pile up inside. I still find it criminal I don't even get the master bedroom even though I am at the house every day and practically the only one who takes care of it. Like why am I sleeping in my tiny ass office bedroom that is $800 a month (Not including utilities or my medical bills that add up my expenses to $1,200 a month. This also doesn't include food.), and my roommate who also pays $800 a month has a giant ass master bedroom that he's barely here cause he's with his girlfriend all the time. I don't hate my roommate at all, but some things do bother me. But that's just what you'll be expecting when you live with other people. It was a nice run living in this place, but I think moving with my sister and her boyfriend will be better since I at least know my sister and how she lives. Hopefully, she can tolerate me.
I try to be optimistic during these crushing times, but being delusional won't save anyone. I do believe there are incredibly good people in this world, but right now this world is being run by evil people and the one thing we need to do is stay close to one another. Having a community of people is an important safety net when going through something difficult like this. Every day things seem to become more and more dystopian, and in this month alone it feels like we're nearing end times. So far we've got Trump's inauguration, Elon Musk's Nazi salute, and Microsoft buying the Three Mile Island nuclear power plant to use the energy for AI data centers. What a fucking time to be alive where the US is run by oligarchs, and AI is used for everything and heavily endorsed by corporations. The world is looking at us laughing, but I've seen their comments they're scared too. It is a large 1st world country run by oligarchs who can heavily impact other countries. Expect the worst for the next 4 years. I won't be surprised to see a revolution when food becomes too expensive, and people already can't afford their medical bills anymore cause health insurance is one of the most evil businesses out there. Honestly, we're due for one anyway. This country has been around for over 200 years, and every empire goes through one someday.
Normally I wouldn’t post something like this, but today is special. Two years ago I made a promise to myself that I would devote all of me to straight edge. Before that I teetered on the idea, but I never truly devoted myself to it. From my perspective, I genuinely thought being sober was the norm in this world, so I viewed the concept of straight edge as rather pointless. I was too naive to realize how much this world valued substances. Not until I learned it the hard way. I knew in my heart that this type of culture wasn’t for me. I never enjoyed drinking, and I had no interest in drugs. But I won’t deny the truth that I’ve always had a weak mindset. I struggled all my life to say no because I didn’t want people to hate me. I avoided confrontation cause I wasn’t strong enough to stick up for myself. At the end of the day I was weak and I made those decisions. But it’s because of those experiences that I am the person I am now.
The mistakes, the guilt, the anger and shame. That pain still lingers, but everyday I tell myself that it’s okay to feel pain and to feel hurt. Those experiences are necessary for growth. Without those mistakes I wouldn’t have found the fire inside my heart. I wouldn’t have stayed committed if I didn’t experience any of it. Since then I’ve been able to reflect on myself and reframe my mindset. Straight Edge to me is more than being sober. More than just an act of rejecting a culture that supports abuse, addiction, death, and misery. But an unwavering dedication for betterment. A commitment to oneself for a clean and better life, and for me I use straight edge as a foundation to build myself further for self improvement. I’m not perfect, but as long as I have the straight edge. It’s enough for me to continue staying committed.
I’m thankful for the people I’ve met in the punk/hardcore scene here in Eugene/Springfield. I’m very glad there’s people I know who are straight edge just like me as if I thought I might be the only one here. I’m glad we have something special and I’m proud to be Straight Edge.
Hardcore music has impacted me more than I ever thought it would. Bands like Judge, Have Heart, Comeback Kid, and Youth Of Today helped shape me to the person I am now.