SUCH SUCH USUALNESS

a writer's bin

[senyoahedor]

DESPERATE YOUTH

we’re in the last throes of our youth. soon, nobody’ll consider us young anymore. everybody considered young’ll be of later generations than ours. ours’ll be in charge like every generation gets its chance to be in charge, to shape the world in their image. we’ll be wasting our chance to reshape the world, to do things differently, we’ll know. some of us know it already, now, like the later youth’ll feel it, then. we’ll no longer be young enough to feel it, not like the later youth’ll be. some of the later youth’ll know, then, what we know, now.

[senyoahedor]

(NOT SO) SIMPLE INSTRUCTION

live the truth. value’s inherent in the act of doing so, in and of itself, meaning there’s a sustainable mechanism in the undertaking of doing so that requires no outside authority to guarantee the value. it’s the base case out of the infinite loop of asking any authority question. live the truth. value of doing so stops itself being subject to being subjective.

[senyoahedor]

AT THE LIMINAL

i am aware, as i swim against the current, i expend energy and time, and i forego certainty.

i have been evasive.

what shapes my sensibilities? i say, what shapes others' sensibilities?

what effect we effect isn't the point. what effect we effect matters, but not to us, in a sense, because we are what matters to us, being us in the capacity of us. we can't reduce ourselves, being us, to what effect we effect. we are reason enough, all on our own, as cause to be as we care to be.

have i been evasive?

there will always be uncertainty for us who swim against the current, and if we must assure ourselves of precisely what we can't assure ourselves of, then we must do nothing but just the work towards…

as a matter of science and faith, i assert there is an abundant abundance of approaches toward…

[senyoahedor]

LATE HOUR

it needn’t be so difficult—

untapped reservoirs in plain view; eventually, dams break.

tenderest, melody whispered to ear

no frills efficient modernity—

exchange, machine spits out tokens, that keep you, that keep all necessities, you know as well as i, necessities

…we've made the deal exchange, we flesh out display,

*collapse*

what pumps through your veins are same as mine, walls come a-tumblin’

no frills efficient modernity—

tenderest, melody whispered to ear

(we borrow bits)

exotic angle… i woke soft, i woke easy

[senyoahedor]

THE ENTIRE POSSIBILITY

this is a passage that i frequent:

“It is the responsibility of free men to trust and to celebrate what is constant—birth, struggle, and death are constant, and so is love, though we may not always think so—and to apprehend the nature of change, to be able and willing to change. I speak of change not on the surface but in the depth—change in the sense of renewal. But renewal becomes impossible if one supposes things to be constant that are not—safety, for example, or money, or power. One clings then to chimeras, by which one can only be betrayed, and the entire hope—the entire possibility—of freedom disappears.”  - James Baldwin, “Letter from a Region in my Mind”, 1962

to be free isn’t to seek escape from the facts of reality. to be free isn’t to wield power to try to distort reality. to be free isn’t to become able to untether from reality.

to be free is to work to be perceptive of reality. to be free is to work to be responsive to reality. to be free is to work to be adaptive to reality.

to be free is to seek possibility and responsibility where reality reigns.

[senyoahedor]

O V E R E X T E N D I N G

an expectation of the ego that the ego be solely and entirely the person

[senyoahedor]

DEGREE OF ACTS

there may be a small separation between displays of kindness and displays of generosity. we try to be good to others just because. that’s kindness, shown passively. we try to do good for others just because. that’s generosity, shown actively.

[senyoahedor]

JUDGMENT CALL

even if it were just two of us left in the world, i imagine that i would stop interacting with a counterpart always inclined to view anything that i say or do through the worst possible lens. i also imagine that i would stop interacting with a counterpart always inclined to view anything that i say or do through the best possible lens.

these two scenarios are extremes, and a dynamic evaluation of trustworthiness is rendered impossible under both conditions. the former scenario takes trustworthiness to be perfectly absent, and the latter scenario takes it to be perfectly present. interaction under both conditions would be pointless.

i mean, i would find it pointless to interact with anyone who always found my trustworthiness level to be zero, under one extreme, or who always found my trustworthiness level to be infinite, under the other extreme. nothing could be changed between us through interaction. nothing constructive would be at stake even if we were to interact.

my own trustworthiness level as to myself isn’t zero nor infinite. myself with myself, i operate within zones of trustworthiness between zero and infinity. i am not always operating within a healthy and productive zone of trustworthiness, myself with myself. i fluctuate, myself with myself. i can get too low on myself sometimes, and i can get too high on myself othertimes.

moreover, healthy and productive zones of trustworthiness aren’t at fixed points. healthy and productive zones of trustworthiness, myself with myself, haven’t been at fixed points over the course of my life to date. i expect, as i gain more and more knowledge and experience, i will keep advancing and retreating where healthy and productive zones of trustworthiness, myself with myself, are.

myself with others, i expect anyone who interacts with me in any consequential way to question my trustworthiness in good faith, just as i question their trustworthiness in good faith. good faith interactions might just be the type between counterparts willing and able to interact with each other within correspondingly healthy and productive zones of trustworthiness.

i am not able to have good faith interactions with everyone. i may not have always realized the fact, but i will never be able to have good faith interactions with everyone because i cannot operate within the same zone of trustworthiness as everyone.

i cannot share the same background of knowledge and experience as everyone. my particular contexts of knowledge and experience cannot be acknowledged by everyone, and i cannot acknowledge everyone’s particular contexts. there isn’t enough opportunity and grace to do so.

trustworthiness is a finite resource, even if a renewable resource. evaluate and expend it wisely.

[senyoahedor]

BOXED OUT / BOXED IN ( ART OF ARTS )

what some will dismiss you for will be the very thing that your public will miss you for so you just have to make sure what you are building is true because what is true for you will be the very thing that

you will be living within so you just have to make sure what you are building is true and not an absence of fear but a presence of courage to be able to be you whatever for you is you

[senyoahedor]

HORSE AND CART

if people aren't able to understand themselves, they won't be able to understand you. don’t expect people who don’t understand themselves to understand you.

[senyoahedor]

JUST SAY.

the idea is to be expressive. the idea isn’t to be impressive per se.

[senyoahedor]

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

as far as we are aware, these incidents took place in the fall of 2014. in the spring of 2015, BLÆGURA, an independent media organization, took it upon itself to publish an original piece on these incidents. BLÆGURA is now defunct. the following story is a republication of the original piece from BLÆGURA’s archives:

“WE were very capable people, or at the very least, very good at pretending to be capable. Fif was one of us most days. The days he wasn’t, he took up a very specific strand of skepticism, strangling his ambition with doubt and declaring himself a renegade rightly refusing to strive for success as protest against a society perpetuating a blind belief in self-advancement.

Fif was one of us that Friday. He woke up in time to shower before class. He arrived in class on the hour and took a seat at the far end of the conference table. He took out a pen and notebook, though he had no real intention of taking notes during the lecture and discussion. We were examining ‘The Talented Tenth’ by W. E. B. Du Bois for the session of a course on race and gender in twentieth-century American society.

The professor, after lecturing for the first half of class on the historical context and cultural significance of the essay, opened discussion for the second half by asking for general thoughts. The first comments commended the author for this and that before a comment charged the essay with androcentrism, and with that, the discussion started.

Fif listened attentively, though nothing said was particularly new to him. He liked to listen for the biases and blindspots revealed by us during discussion. His lack of input wasn’t helpful to his participation grade, but he felt that it was more satisfying to listen than to participate.

The professor, more concerned about Fif’s grade than he was, singled him out at a point. ‘What do you think of the language of the essay, Fif?’ the profesor prompted.

‘I wasn’t bothered by the language. Even now, a century and a decade later, it isn’t too dated to be difficult to understand,’ Fif responded.

‘Any further thoughts beyond the language?’ the professor prompted Fif again.

‘Uh, I thought, I mean, I think it’s irrelevant to black experience today. I appreciate the legacy of Du Bois, but uh, I think an argument that black people would be saved by our most exceptionally educated is null and void today.’

‘Hmm, you’re offering an argument for a post-racial America, but that’s a discussion for another time. We’ll continue to focus on the text in its relevant context for this discussion,’ she responded, and with that, the discussion continued.

AFTER class, Abe caught up with Fif as they exited the building where our class was held.

‘I didn’t think your comment had anything to do with a post-racial America, man. Did it?’ Abe asked.

‘It didn’t.’

‘So why did you accept the professor thinking it did.’

‘It’s whatever, man,’ Fif responded.

‘No, no, I want to hear what you meant for real. I’m heading to Ooh’s Café. Let’s talk it out over lunch.’

Abe often tried to start conversations with Fif about topics from class to no avail. Their dynamic was set at the start of the semester when Abe was going on and on about how the professor didn't fully meet criteria to teach the course, and Fif casually countered that the class would be the same old stuff even if the professor was black. Abe always wanted to hear Fif’s take on things from that point onward, but Fif never really wanted to engage Abe.

‘Not today, man. I’m heading back to my dorm. I went to bed very late last night, and I could use some more sleep,’ Fif declined Abe’s invitation as per usual.

They went their separate ways with Fif heading back to his dorm to sleep.

FIF woke up in the very early evening to the sound of his phone ringing. His mother was calling.

‘Hello?’

‘Fif! How are you?’

‘I’m well. How are you, Mom?’

‘I’m okay. I was just calling to check up on you. I haven’t heard from you in a little while.’

‘I’m sorry. I was going to call you last weekend, but… you don’t have to worry about me, Mom. I’m doing okay,’ Fif tried to assure her.

‘I hope you’re studying hard, for yourself, and for us, too.’

‘I know, Mom.’

‘Have you eaten yet?’

‘Not yet, but I’ll go get something to eat soon,’ Fif responded.

‘Please do take care of yourself, Fif. Love you.’

‘Love you too, Mom. I’ll make sure to be the one to call next time. Bye, mom.’

‘Bye, bye’ she responded.

Fif hanged up on his end. He supposed that she had just gotten home from work. He remembered how she would come home exhausted from work. He felt guilty that he had spent most of his day sleeping while she had spent her day working and would spend her evening working at her second job.

Fif got out of bed, but he sat right back down on it. He felt dizzy. He had had nothing to eat in about twenty-four hours, and he was feeling the effects. He really needed to go get something to eat.

Fif's closest and quickest option for food was Main Main’s, the local fast food restaurant.

Fif called Main Main's to order for pickup since ordering for pickup saved him a bit more time and money than ordering for delivery to his dorm. After giving his name to the hostess on the other end of the line, he ordered a burger and fries.

Many minutes later, after looking for his wallet and finding it underneath one of the bundles of paper on his desk, he left his room for the restaurant.

FIF entered Main Main’s feeling better than when he left his room. Walking over to the restaurant, he thought about the assignments that he had to complete that weekend, and he had somewhat forgotten how badly he needed to eat. The dinner rush was starting, and Fif had to stand by the hostess station to wait for the hostess to tend to him.

Farther from the hostess station and in front of the takeout counter, there was a group of five or six guys waiting to be seated. One guy was complaining loudly about waiting to be seated. Another guy was asking a third guy if they served liquor at the restaurant. A fourth guy farthest off was harping on and on about how hungry he was.

The fourth guy was standing by the heated shelf that held orders for pickup. After the hostess had gone into the dining area to check on something, the fourth guy threatened to eat, because he was so hungry, from a takeout container sitting on the heated shelf.

The rest of the guys were mostly laughing at the fourth guy’s antics up to this point, but before they could even react to his new gambit, the fourth guy promptly broke through the side of the takeout container, and he stole a few fries from it.

It was then that Fif realized that it was probably his pickup order sitting on the heated shelf. He walked over to the farthest side of the counter. Up close, Fif saw that the takeout container was still sealed in front. If Fif himself hadn’t seen the theft happen, he wouldn’t have thought that anyone had stolen from the takeout container.

Fif turned towards the fourth guy. ‘I think that’s my order you just stole from, and that’s your bad luck ‘cause I was watching this whole time,’ Fif said to the fourth guy. The fourth guy turned away from Fif and just stared straight ahead in another direction.

Fif didn’t really care at first that the food had been stolen and eaten. In fact, Fif had only expected the fourth guy to keep up the antics. Fif expected that the guy would make a joke, or better yet, that he would offer up an apology. For the guy to just ignore Fif instead, Fif was stupefied.

Fif was left staring at the guy while the guy was just staring straight ahead. Fif did not know what to make of the situation. The fourth guy was standing several inches taller than Fif, and he had a more athletic build, and he was better dressed, like the rest of the guys.

Fif kept staring at the fourth guy, not knowing whether to say anything else to him, or more so, Fif was maybe waiting to see if the guy, feeling how Fif was just staring at him, would finally say something to Fif.

The fourth guy didn’t say another word the rest of the time.

Fif took his eyes off the fourth guy just to catch the eye of another one of the guys. Apparently amused at the situation, the guy was smirking at Fif. Fif looked away.

The hostess returned from the dining area and informed the group of guys that it would be a few more minutes before they would be seated.

The hostess saw Fif waiting in front of the heated shelf and asked for Fif’s name. It was Fif’s pickup order that was sitting on the heated shelf. The hostess packaged up the takeout container and brought Fif over to the hostess station for his payment.

Fif said nothing of what had transpired with the food to the hostess. He paid for the food and exited the restaurant as quickly as possible.

Fif couldn’t really figure out how he got back to his room. He was spiraling in his head about what had just happened. He threw the packaged order into the trash bin. Spiraling further and further, he sat at his desk to work.”

we interrupt our republication to insert the following statement which Fif had produced that evening at his desk and which he had otherwise thought he had discarded but which we were able to locate among the raw materials that BLÆGURA had in its archives:

“…I’M alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright. No, I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright. The guy at the counter erases his injury to me with his silence, injuring me once more. I respond to his silence with my own. If I say anything more, what difference would it make? I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright. No, I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright.

It’s just another instance. It’s just another instance of erasure I’ve encountered here. It’s just another instance of entitlement I’ve encountered here. It’s just another instance of disrespect I’ve encountered here. It’s just another instance. There’s even the word for it, microaggression. It’s just another instance of instances so common that there’s even a word for it. My mother doesn’t know the word, but she’s encountered these instances her whole life. I know the word, and I’m still encountering these instances. If I say anything more, what difference would it make?

I continue to live in my shoes. Those like me continue to live in our shoes. I would rather have that we not live in these shoes. Those like the guy at the counter continue to do as they do. I would rather have that they do better. It takes nothing out of them to pretend that these circumstances are alright, nothing, overblown, when it takes everything out of us to pretend the same. It takes everything out of me to pretend the same. I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright. No, I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright.

I feel the damage not done to me, the damage I don’t want to acknowledge myself, the damage I won’t acknowledge myself. I feel nothing. I am nothing. No, that isn’t right. The guy at the counter is nothing. He is nothing. No, that isn’t right. The guy at the counter negated my presence, my existence. He can choose not to spare a single thought on me thereafter. I can’t choose to do the same. I must spare thought on him. I must spare thought on the encounter with him so as to try to be alright. I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright. No, I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright.

I walk away bearing everything. I am not nothing, but nothingness is my asylum. I am nothing, negating everything. I am nothing, and I will do nothing. I will do nothing until I am nothing. No, that isn’t right. I am anybody trying to be somebody. How am I supposed to be somebody? The guy at the counter is somebody. He is somebody unburdened by the unacknowledgeable circumstance of being reduced to nothing, to nobody. l am nothing to the guy at the counter. I am nobody to the guy at the counter. I never want to be somebody like the guy at the counter. How am I supposed to be somebody?

My father named me as he did to remind me to work to be whole in this world. In my father’s memory, I must work to be whole in this world. I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright. No, I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright. If they insist that these circumstances are alright, nothing, overblown, I insist that I too am alright when I’m not alright. No, that isn’t right. I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright. No, I’m alright, or rather, I’ll be alright. No, I’m not alright, and I won’t be alright…”

we resume our republication of the original piece from BLÆGURA’s archives:

“‘WHAT are you working on tonight?’ a voice coming from Fif’s doorway asked.

Fif had been sitting at his desk for several hours. He couldn’t focus on his academic reading, and he felt like he shouldn’t focus on his mindful journaling. He would read for a time and realize it was no use, and then, he would write for a time and feel like it was no use, and then, he would read for a time and realize it was no use, and back and forth and back and forth, he went until the voice broke the cycle.

Fif swiveled his chair to see Pri standing in his doorway.

‘You already know, just trying to make sense of the world, ha,” Fif responded, motioning to Pri for her to enter.

‘Well, I’m just getting back from the library, and I thought to check in with you. Did you attend your classes today?’

‘I went to the one in the morning, but I missed the afternoon ones,’ Fif responded. ‘I am behind on my readings in every class, and I could use a day at the library to catch up.’

‘I was planning to camp out at the stacks all day tomorrow. You’re welcome to join me,’ Pri said.

‘It’s settled then. I’m joining you at the stacks tomorrow,’ Fif said.

Pri sifted through the bundles of paper on Fif’s desk as was her habit when she dropped by his room.

‘Why do you never let me read anything you write, and why do you always cross out most things you write?’ Pri asked.

‘You really want to know?’ Fif said, almost breaking into tears.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Fif said, recovering. ‘Everyone on this campus is here for a reason, right? Everyone has to be the best of the best to be here, right? We are being educated to solve the world’s problems, right?’ he said laughing unsettlingly.

‘Okay, what happened today?’

‘If I wrote an op-ed about how everyone makes up the world, so changing the world would have to necessitate changing everyone, and that’s impossible, and so, changing the world is impossible, d’you think the Post would publish it?’ Fif asked in response.

‘That’s disheartening, and I don’t think they’d publish it, but I’d love to read it if you do,’ Pri responded. ‘Is that food I smell?’

‘I got something to eat earlier, but it was contaminated, so I threw it out, and I need to take out the trash,’ he responded.

‘So you haven’t eaten, have you?’

‘No, not really,’ Fif responded while getting up to take out the trash.

‘After you’re done doing that, d’you want to go grab something to eat at Ooh’s Café? They should still be open at this hour.’

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Fif said.

‘Do what? I haven’t had dinner, and I could definitely eat.’

‘I guess I could eat too,’ Fif said.

‘Great, I’ll be back in a sec, and we’ll walk there. I've just got to drop off my things first,’ Pri said. ‘By the way, you know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?’

‘I know,’ Fif responded.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.

‘It’s nothing new,’ he answered.”

[senyoahedor]

STEADY PACE

be careful not to get ahead of yourself.

[senyoahedor]

MAP VERSUS BLUEPRINT

trying to find myself, i realized i was nowhere and everywhere. i forget from where exactly came the overwhelming sense that i was lost. maybe, i am not being entirely truthful there. i should say, for the first twelve years of my life, i was surrounded by eyes that saw me for the best, and after those first twelve years, i was surrounded by eyes that questioned me more often than not, if i was even seen at all. all that was left after a time for a time was the imperative to find myself.

i saw possibilities. then, i saw constraints. i was caught in the middle. to free myself from the to and fro, i had to face a crucial fact. my freedom to be as i wanted to be was not what was in question. what i was willing to abandon to be as i wanted to be was what was in question. what others were willing to abandon to let me be as i wanted to be was what was in question.

i developed an obsession with figuring out exactly what makes anything anything and how anything continues to be anything because trying to find myself so as to be myself was a problem no different. i came to realize i was nowhere and everywhere since the problem was no different.

before the obsession, the world moved along, and i was subsisting despite my irretrievability, and with the obsession, the world continued to move along, and i was subsisting despite my irretrievability. i wanted more than just subsistence.

ultimately, i abandoned the notion of finding myself itself. i worked through the sense that i was lost, and i abandoned the imperative to find myself. i moved from trying to find myself to trying to keep myself. i took to building myself in keeping myself. i then realized i was somewhere.

[senyoahedor]

HUMAN

being aware while worrying about being aware of being aware, inescapably

[senyoahedor]

JUST BE.

you go wrong acting more than you are. you also go wrong acting less than you are.

[senyoahedor]

NO LAST PLACE HOLDING

an awakened sense

there is a point in life where you start to see the rest of your life. there are probably several points in fact.

terms of contest

i won’t pretend that i haven’t wasted time. i have wasted a lot of time. i won’t pretend that i have wasted all my time up to this point though.

there are so many intangibles and unforeseeables to developing into a whole person that wasting time might just be an asset sometimes. there are so many intangibles and unforeseeables to developing into a whole person that i don’t believe all the time that i maybe wasted has been all wasted time.

i am developing into a whole person. i feel like i am developing into a whole person inwardly, even if, right now, it isn’t looking like it outwardly.

stakes of contest

the risks of a usual path versus the risks of an unusual path aren’t all that different. the startup costs are incomparable, of course. the startup costs of taking a usual path is inherently lower than taking an unusual path.

that said, the perceived imbalance of total risk between taking a usual path versus taking an unusual path is overblown. you might come to nothing taking the usual path in life just as you might come to nothing taking the unusual path in life.

the risks of a usual path versus the risks of an unusual path aren’t all that different.

confession of judgment

i don’t know how to assess my life without the full picture of my life. do we ever get a full picture of our lives? can we ever get a full picture of our lives while we are living our lives?

what we do get are checkpoint snapshots.

i am dissatisfied with my present snapshot. there are some things in my present snapshot that i like. there are many more things in my present snapshot that i don’t like.

i love what are yet to come in future snapshots. i believe what are yet to come in future snapshots are really, really promising. i have a long, long way to go though.

i am dissatisfied with my present snapshot. too many debts off bets that i have made have already come due, and i have been unable to pay.

upfront fees

being clear-eyed is an invaluable skill, and it takes something to develop the skill.

sorting through information, especially about yourself, is also an invaluable skill, and it too takes something to develop.

there is an incredible amount of information about ourselves available to us in our inner spaces, and we must develop the skills to sort through it all.

administrative forbearance

only i really, really know what i have gained and what i have lost among the bets that i have made so far.

i am developing into a whole person.

feeling dissatisfaction while following an unusual path isn’t the slightest bit feeling regret when your path is far from completion.