Sadly, this will be my last blog post.
Yes, it's true, the time for Catch 22 to ride into the sunset has finally come after six years of on and off content. For no other reason than my own closure, I felt it was best to retire the teenage angst and philosophical musings that this blog is best known for. This entire blog has been a memento, a keepsake of sorts for me to take a peek back into what my life was once like. A physical place where all of my thoughts and ideas evolved into life lessons, and were even lucky enough to touch several hearts out there. My heart and soul reside between the lines, the many sleepless nights at my keyboard typing and reading and editing, the passion I felt in delivering what was on my mind in the most concise manner so somebody understood how I felt. I feel as a teenager, that's all anybody really wants: to be heard. Catch 22 allowed me a voice all of my own, and as luck would have it my voice was heard by so many over the years. For that, I cannot thank long-time readers enough for the support and the dedication shown through thick and thin. Writing is a devout passion of mine, and not something I intend on giving up entirely. Or really in any capacity.
Introducing...The Average Joe Blog!
That's right, I'm shaking the Catch 22 brand for something a little more grown-up. As I journey further into adulthood, there's a myriad of new problems and findings that are out there and ripe for the picking. As it has always been, this blog will primarily be a resource for me and voicing my thoughts on paper, just with the added benefit of an audience who can also enjoy and relate to my problems. Will there still be philosophical ramblings? Absolutely! Just not exclusively. I wanted to curate a more traditional style of blog, one that pulls back the curtain a bit on my life while also culminating my observations on life over my past year of absence. I've tried contributing more to Catch 22, but you just can't force the organic emotions that come from inspiration. My thought is adjusting the subject matter will allow for a bit more freedom in creativity, and therefore more posts! So while this may be a last hurrah for one chapter of my life, it is a new beginning for me to learn more about myself as I grow up even more. Thank you for supporting me all of these years, if you want to continue supporting me go check out my new blog! And for one last time...
Enjoy the odyssey!
Tuesday, December 25, 2018
Thursday, October 05, 2017
Sui Generis
Autumn used to be my favorite season.
The vibrant colors, the brisk mountain air, the looming atmosphere of something amiss...it's lost its touch on me as the years go by. Sure, the colors are always striking to the eye, but I've still yet to become adjusted to the stark drop-off in temperatures. Is that enough reasoning to have a broken relationship with a season? Well, it's more than that. Symbolically, Autumn is a time of change. Preparation for the still, dead, white winter we begrudgingly endure until the rebirth of life, abundance of growth, and resurgence of the sun. Remarkably poetic, when you put it that way. But is the rotational axis of the Earth relative to the position of a big ball of gas in the sky in which determines climate patterns really something to get choked up over? Under these terms, it's truly nothing special. But humanity has a uniquely special tendency to layer our own meanings and associations of feeling and emotion within our hearts. Why let that go to waste? I fully have taken advantage, and the feelings that correlate with Summer take me away so much more carelessly than what Autumn greets me with nowadays. Bright skies, warm memories, the freedom and boundlessness that is promised...how so I long for that pleasure. Perhaps my differing perspective towards Autumn is attributed to the link in its roots as compared to one of my biggest fears in life:
Things change. Like it or not.
Change should not easily and automatically be burdened with the brand of tainted fate. In fact, the word on the street is that change is a fairly positive thing. Out with the old, in with the new as they say. During one of many of my morning commutes via bicycle, I've had a lot of time to soak in the feelings of change. The weather, the leaves, life itself transcends these very changes. Of course, life is not limited to change along with the seasons, but the spotlight seems to shine so overbearingly bright on existence's inevitable progression as change is exhibited all around us. It's definitely much tougher to see the light upon the realization that during Autumn, everything is dying. Yet, we encapsulate the beauty in death, rather not in the physical sense but concentrated instead on the metaphorical. Why is it that we watch so stoically while the leaves which fall and wisp away in the wind reach their termination, but weep at the sight of the flora and blossoms withering and wilting their petals away? I asked myself this question several days ago, and I didn't really have an answer for myself. I couldn't make the connection to why I felt like I did, and only recently have I found the answer that has me restoring my blog to its former glory in order to answer my own musings and shed some of my own mindset with you, my friend!
Leaves have uniformity.
There are thousands of millions of billions of leaves clinging to twigs and branches. Practically scrap to the world of botany. We care no more about the falling leaves than we do the snowflakes that melt upon our warm cheeks in the coming winter, because of the commonality in their appearance. Only when these nuisances begin to show their true colors do we appreciate their being. Is this telling of the ego of the human spirit? I find it to be more based on tradition rather than any sort of narcissism. From childhood it's a common (if not the first) association we place with Autumn: the changing of the colors. Although the attention of leaves are fixed upon one season, we still tend to acknowledge their presence, or lack thereof, through other senses; the rustling in the breeze, the crunch underneath our feet, the absence which leaves trees bare against a blank landscape. There isn't as much potency to our reflection upon leaves until Spring, but even yet the focus tends to be on the budding plants around the leaves. But what makes extravagant flowers so different? The mere existence of flowers is a miracle. How the flower came to be is proof of something so minuscule thriving into a medium where its delicacy can be captivated upon. Planting the seed, tender care, germination, patience, growth, and finally the climax of blossoming elegance. The manifestation of our own persistence...gone so suddenly, taken by Earth's cold embrace. Without warning, resentment, or even a simple apology, Autumn neglects our dedication and revokes us of our desire to take pride in what we have done, leaving only a memory.
And that is where Autumn and life strain me alike.
Yeah, I know you don't read this blog to hear about the misery and woe in my life, but since the equinox life hasn't been too kind. It's to a point where I feel as if there is nowhere else to go. Nobody else to turn to. So, hey, why not a couple hundred people who care enough to listen to what I say? Loss is an inexorable piece of our lives. Currently and constantly I combat a cruel seasonal reminder that the efflorescence in life has come to a conclusion in several facets, cut by the thorns that have stemmed through my creation. My garden of Eden has been reduced to a plot of dirt in the land. Never before have I bore torment so excruciatingly, and yet I do not miss this experience. I don't want to delve too specifically into details for my own privacy, but death both physically and symbolically has gripped some of my most meaningful belongings and tore them from my clutches. In some cases, it is nearly as unbearable as literal death in the sense that I must live day to day with the renewed anxiety in knowledge that the dilemma presently exists and imminently could get worse. I've pooled tears, tossed and turned, praying for the stillness of Winter to save me from the modifications Autumn has wrecked indiscriminately. I am desperate for the silencing of these changes. Emptiness has filled my heart. Is there any redemption in sight?
Absolutely.
I am broken, knocked down a peg, still raw with the open wound of loss. However, time heals all wounds. As easily as the leaves die away, it is with the foresight that we will see them again once more. When that day will be cannot be said for sure, but there is a strange sort of faith that the sun will rise in the east and set in the west. Over and over and over until the bird's melody welcomes a brighter day. The fact that the phenomenon of cessation will occur is no reason to despair. Rebirth restores the chance of reliving the feelings we held in the past, and reinventing them for the future. Less of a goodbye, and more of a 'see you later'. The shrubbery planted in my empty plot may not be exactly the same as the one I had loved and admired before, but it is as genetically close as possible that optimistically we may feel the same adoration as we once did. Although we may become otherwise disillusioned at times, we have just as little control of our own lives as we do control of the seasons. Think about that. The rotation of a celestial body in the infinite universe versus the very lives we currently are living, right now...and we have as much influence to both, to an extent. Is that overwhelming? It shouldn't be. It's edifying. Grounding. It means that the change in life should be held in the same regard as the falling leaves, the dying flowers, the barren landscapes: we can't blame ourselves for the tragic yet predestined events that affect the things we love. Instead, look not to impart blame. Look to plant the seeds once again. Make something that is beautiful. Just maybe it will sprout into something even more beautiful than before.
I can only hope.
The vibrant colors, the brisk mountain air, the looming atmosphere of something amiss...it's lost its touch on me as the years go by. Sure, the colors are always striking to the eye, but I've still yet to become adjusted to the stark drop-off in temperatures. Is that enough reasoning to have a broken relationship with a season? Well, it's more than that. Symbolically, Autumn is a time of change. Preparation for the still, dead, white winter we begrudgingly endure until the rebirth of life, abundance of growth, and resurgence of the sun. Remarkably poetic, when you put it that way. But is the rotational axis of the Earth relative to the position of a big ball of gas in the sky in which determines climate patterns really something to get choked up over? Under these terms, it's truly nothing special. But humanity has a uniquely special tendency to layer our own meanings and associations of feeling and emotion within our hearts. Why let that go to waste? I fully have taken advantage, and the feelings that correlate with Summer take me away so much more carelessly than what Autumn greets me with nowadays. Bright skies, warm memories, the freedom and boundlessness that is promised...how so I long for that pleasure. Perhaps my differing perspective towards Autumn is attributed to the link in its roots as compared to one of my biggest fears in life:
Things change. Like it or not.
Change should not easily and automatically be burdened with the brand of tainted fate. In fact, the word on the street is that change is a fairly positive thing. Out with the old, in with the new as they say. During one of many of my morning commutes via bicycle, I've had a lot of time to soak in the feelings of change. The weather, the leaves, life itself transcends these very changes. Of course, life is not limited to change along with the seasons, but the spotlight seems to shine so overbearingly bright on existence's inevitable progression as change is exhibited all around us. It's definitely much tougher to see the light upon the realization that during Autumn, everything is dying. Yet, we encapsulate the beauty in death, rather not in the physical sense but concentrated instead on the metaphorical. Why is it that we watch so stoically while the leaves which fall and wisp away in the wind reach their termination, but weep at the sight of the flora and blossoms withering and wilting their petals away? I asked myself this question several days ago, and I didn't really have an answer for myself. I couldn't make the connection to why I felt like I did, and only recently have I found the answer that has me restoring my blog to its former glory in order to answer my own musings and shed some of my own mindset with you, my friend!
Leaves have uniformity.
There are thousands of millions of billions of leaves clinging to twigs and branches. Practically scrap to the world of botany. We care no more about the falling leaves than we do the snowflakes that melt upon our warm cheeks in the coming winter, because of the commonality in their appearance. Only when these nuisances begin to show their true colors do we appreciate their being. Is this telling of the ego of the human spirit? I find it to be more based on tradition rather than any sort of narcissism. From childhood it's a common (if not the first) association we place with Autumn: the changing of the colors. Although the attention of leaves are fixed upon one season, we still tend to acknowledge their presence, or lack thereof, through other senses; the rustling in the breeze, the crunch underneath our feet, the absence which leaves trees bare against a blank landscape. There isn't as much potency to our reflection upon leaves until Spring, but even yet the focus tends to be on the budding plants around the leaves. But what makes extravagant flowers so different? The mere existence of flowers is a miracle. How the flower came to be is proof of something so minuscule thriving into a medium where its delicacy can be captivated upon. Planting the seed, tender care, germination, patience, growth, and finally the climax of blossoming elegance. The manifestation of our own persistence...gone so suddenly, taken by Earth's cold embrace. Without warning, resentment, or even a simple apology, Autumn neglects our dedication and revokes us of our desire to take pride in what we have done, leaving only a memory.
And that is where Autumn and life strain me alike.
Yeah, I know you don't read this blog to hear about the misery and woe in my life, but since the equinox life hasn't been too kind. It's to a point where I feel as if there is nowhere else to go. Nobody else to turn to. So, hey, why not a couple hundred people who care enough to listen to what I say? Loss is an inexorable piece of our lives. Currently and constantly I combat a cruel seasonal reminder that the efflorescence in life has come to a conclusion in several facets, cut by the thorns that have stemmed through my creation. My garden of Eden has been reduced to a plot of dirt in the land. Never before have I bore torment so excruciatingly, and yet I do not miss this experience. I don't want to delve too specifically into details for my own privacy, but death both physically and symbolically has gripped some of my most meaningful belongings and tore them from my clutches. In some cases, it is nearly as unbearable as literal death in the sense that I must live day to day with the renewed anxiety in knowledge that the dilemma presently exists and imminently could get worse. I've pooled tears, tossed and turned, praying for the stillness of Winter to save me from the modifications Autumn has wrecked indiscriminately. I am desperate for the silencing of these changes. Emptiness has filled my heart. Is there any redemption in sight?
Absolutely.
I am broken, knocked down a peg, still raw with the open wound of loss. However, time heals all wounds. As easily as the leaves die away, it is with the foresight that we will see them again once more. When that day will be cannot be said for sure, but there is a strange sort of faith that the sun will rise in the east and set in the west. Over and over and over until the bird's melody welcomes a brighter day. The fact that the phenomenon of cessation will occur is no reason to despair. Rebirth restores the chance of reliving the feelings we held in the past, and reinventing them for the future. Less of a goodbye, and more of a 'see you later'. The shrubbery planted in my empty plot may not be exactly the same as the one I had loved and admired before, but it is as genetically close as possible that optimistically we may feel the same adoration as we once did. Although we may become otherwise disillusioned at times, we have just as little control of our own lives as we do control of the seasons. Think about that. The rotation of a celestial body in the infinite universe versus the very lives we currently are living, right now...and we have as much influence to both, to an extent. Is that overwhelming? It shouldn't be. It's edifying. Grounding. It means that the change in life should be held in the same regard as the falling leaves, the dying flowers, the barren landscapes: we can't blame ourselves for the tragic yet predestined events that affect the things we love. Instead, look not to impart blame. Look to plant the seeds once again. Make something that is beautiful. Just maybe it will sprout into something even more beautiful than before.
I can only hope.
Thursday, November 10, 2016
The End
This is not the end.
I posted this short phrase to my Facebook feed while watching the results of the presidential election unfold. And I still mean it. This is not the end. Yes, it's the end of the presidential race, but there is tireless work left to be done concerning what to do about it. This post was originally a completely different tone, criticizing the opposition for their lack of empathy towards those who will inevitably become affected by this outcome. But I read through my last post again, took a bit of a heavy sigh and deleted most of what I had already written for this post you are reading now. I've seen far too much already of the sensationalism of both sides. I initially wrote out of passion directly inspired by what I saw spreading through social media, as I am sure we have all experienced by now. I, like many others, was frustrated, confused, disappointed, disheartened, you name it...I found myself asking how something like this could happen. The results were just the same as you would see on anyone else's Facebook feed: a political rant that divided more than it unified. We've all seen enough of that, right? In the spirit of this blog, I desired for something different. After having a full 24 hours to let the winds die down and the dust to settle, the question I now ask myself is made less out of emotion, and more based on rationalization.
When is the end?
Is it when the Trump presidency begins on the 20th of January in D.C.? The answer, I'm happy to say, is an enormous and resounding NO. Politics aside (and trust me, that's easier said than done at this point), recently a lot of hyperbole in reaction to what the future potentially holds for us as a nation has risen from the minority to the point where suicide is a suitable option. Let's pause right there, shall we? As someone who did not vote for Trump, I can't say I'm too thrilled at the idea of his presidential leadership like I mentioned before. This is besides the point though. Listen, suicide isn't a casual affair. No matter the circumstances, if you feel that death is the more appealing option than facing the potential danger...doesn't it seem like there's a larger issue at hand? I understand, there are very real implications behind this election. None that I can reasonably say are worth taking your own life over. But to turn a blind eye and say that those who fear for a Trump presidency have absolutely nothing to worry about? That's an equally foolish statement to make. I mentioned earlier America's tendency to sensationalize their end of the spectrum. Right now, the choices are either everything is totally fine, or everything is absolutely not fine. Now, what's that word I'm fetching for all the time? Oh yeah, that's it.
MODERATION.
Like I had experienced writing the post I eventually ended up deleting, many of us are acting purely out of instinct. Liberal or conservative, we are so quick to label either side to the fullest extent of their representation. Every Trump supporter is the embodiment of hate, every dissenting opinion is a whining traitor to their own country. When is the end? When can we lay our guard down and come to a compromise in our beliefs? If you thought it would happen after the election, it pains me to say that you are sadly mistaken. My anticipation is that this ordeal won't blow over anytime in the foreseeable future. But that duration is solely dependent on by how we choose to act in the coming days and onward. We can choose to take the lazier route of stereotyping the opposition as a whole and being angry in turn, or we can choose to approach a pivotal point in American history with a level playing field, open mind, and most importantly moderation. Let us not forget, Trump hasn't even stepped foot in the oval office yet. Until he does, none of us can predict his successes or failures, and I dare you to try. The likelihood is that it will remain a mystery until time takes its course, as it normally does. But we can only wait until then. So what should you do during that time? Whether you're a winner or a loser in this election, it would do us all some good to focus on a particular concept that I feel is what makes America the greatest country in the world:
Resilience.
This is the capacity to recover from hardship and difficulty. Your ability to bend, not break. What are you made of? These are the morals that are tested during hardship, like I said last post. Though the battle may be over, the war rages on among friends, family, and loved ones. It's a debate at the most fundamental level of equitable versus inequitable. Rather than fight with each other, why not fight for a cause together? Dare I say, the cause to make America great again? There's infinite definitions for that phrase right about now. Feel free to disagree with me (which is one reason in itself that America is great), but the level of disagreement and division in our country has reached levels of critical mass. Levels that prevent progress. A house divided against itself cannot stand. I feel the greatest objective as a country should be our focus on pulling together to tackle the real issues that have seldom been discussed over the course of argument. Many lament the fact they had to take part in a so-called pitiful election cycle, but objectively this is all something much bigger. A shot at history that will be told for the rest of our existence. I watched a beautiful autumn sunset this evening, and in that moment there was no time to fret about the catastrophe occurring in the world. There was only enough time to look forward to tomorrow's sunset. What will history say about this timeline's end? The end of all this hate? That's for us to inscribe on the face of history. Do not let an election tear your beloved relationships apart or revoke your sense of citizenship to a great nation, because tomorrow is a new day.
In the end, that's the greatest thing of all.
I posted this short phrase to my Facebook feed while watching the results of the presidential election unfold. And I still mean it. This is not the end. Yes, it's the end of the presidential race, but there is tireless work left to be done concerning what to do about it. This post was originally a completely different tone, criticizing the opposition for their lack of empathy towards those who will inevitably become affected by this outcome. But I read through my last post again, took a bit of a heavy sigh and deleted most of what I had already written for this post you are reading now. I've seen far too much already of the sensationalism of both sides. I initially wrote out of passion directly inspired by what I saw spreading through social media, as I am sure we have all experienced by now. I, like many others, was frustrated, confused, disappointed, disheartened, you name it...I found myself asking how something like this could happen. The results were just the same as you would see on anyone else's Facebook feed: a political rant that divided more than it unified. We've all seen enough of that, right? In the spirit of this blog, I desired for something different. After having a full 24 hours to let the winds die down and the dust to settle, the question I now ask myself is made less out of emotion, and more based on rationalization.
When is the end?
Is it when the Trump presidency begins on the 20th of January in D.C.? The answer, I'm happy to say, is an enormous and resounding NO. Politics aside (and trust me, that's easier said than done at this point), recently a lot of hyperbole in reaction to what the future potentially holds for us as a nation has risen from the minority to the point where suicide is a suitable option. Let's pause right there, shall we? As someone who did not vote for Trump, I can't say I'm too thrilled at the idea of his presidential leadership like I mentioned before. This is besides the point though. Listen, suicide isn't a casual affair. No matter the circumstances, if you feel that death is the more appealing option than facing the potential danger...doesn't it seem like there's a larger issue at hand? I understand, there are very real implications behind this election. None that I can reasonably say are worth taking your own life over. But to turn a blind eye and say that those who fear for a Trump presidency have absolutely nothing to worry about? That's an equally foolish statement to make. I mentioned earlier America's tendency to sensationalize their end of the spectrum. Right now, the choices are either everything is totally fine, or everything is absolutely not fine. Now, what's that word I'm fetching for all the time? Oh yeah, that's it.
MODERATION.
Like I had experienced writing the post I eventually ended up deleting, many of us are acting purely out of instinct. Liberal or conservative, we are so quick to label either side to the fullest extent of their representation. Every Trump supporter is the embodiment of hate, every dissenting opinion is a whining traitor to their own country. When is the end? When can we lay our guard down and come to a compromise in our beliefs? If you thought it would happen after the election, it pains me to say that you are sadly mistaken. My anticipation is that this ordeal won't blow over anytime in the foreseeable future. But that duration is solely dependent on by how we choose to act in the coming days and onward. We can choose to take the lazier route of stereotyping the opposition as a whole and being angry in turn, or we can choose to approach a pivotal point in American history with a level playing field, open mind, and most importantly moderation. Let us not forget, Trump hasn't even stepped foot in the oval office yet. Until he does, none of us can predict his successes or failures, and I dare you to try. The likelihood is that it will remain a mystery until time takes its course, as it normally does. But we can only wait until then. So what should you do during that time? Whether you're a winner or a loser in this election, it would do us all some good to focus on a particular concept that I feel is what makes America the greatest country in the world:
Resilience.
This is the capacity to recover from hardship and difficulty. Your ability to bend, not break. What are you made of? These are the morals that are tested during hardship, like I said last post. Though the battle may be over, the war rages on among friends, family, and loved ones. It's a debate at the most fundamental level of equitable versus inequitable. Rather than fight with each other, why not fight for a cause together? Dare I say, the cause to make America great again? There's infinite definitions for that phrase right about now. Feel free to disagree with me (which is one reason in itself that America is great), but the level of disagreement and division in our country has reached levels of critical mass. Levels that prevent progress. A house divided against itself cannot stand. I feel the greatest objective as a country should be our focus on pulling together to tackle the real issues that have seldom been discussed over the course of argument. Many lament the fact they had to take part in a so-called pitiful election cycle, but objectively this is all something much bigger. A shot at history that will be told for the rest of our existence. I watched a beautiful autumn sunset this evening, and in that moment there was no time to fret about the catastrophe occurring in the world. There was only enough time to look forward to tomorrow's sunset. What will history say about this timeline's end? The end of all this hate? That's for us to inscribe on the face of history. Do not let an election tear your beloved relationships apart or revoke your sense of citizenship to a great nation, because tomorrow is a new day.
In the end, that's the greatest thing of all.
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