This is a commentary on RM and GM, and all others who earn more than they deserve and share less than they are able. In giving a little we can usually do more than it seems to us. What is nothing to us might greatly help someone else, and all-too-often these small favors are refused. What gathers dust in one house might be a major improvement to another. All in all, I think most people don't realize how rich they really are. And maybe if they stepped a bit back and thought on how much more than others they really have, they wouldn't be so ill-inclined to give it to them. If you could give a tenth of your good to double someone else's, are you not wrong to hold it? But all in all, what is received must be deserved, too. And if a person ever deserves more, why not give them at least a piece of it? That's all, a bit.

After all, if every bit isn't earned, why give it? (But being better may mean, in ways, to be worse too. Maybe I'm just cold-hearted and I'm trying to convince the world to hand itself to me, and the only work I'll put in is what comes easily to me. And one can't so easily turn down what one does best!)

On Pride

Pride is not, nor has it ever been, a cohesive entity. It happens to be a number of things, all under a single name. As it is, everyone is prideful or proud in one capacity or another. But that does not serve to unify either their cause or result. Pride is created of a love for what we already have. Men are proud of their intelligence, strength, ability, or even of something as moot as material belongings or nationality. These prides are not moot for thir innate lack of value, but because they are most often received without any trouble. Should that not be the case, they are as surely as worthy of praise as any other thing. For that is the nature of the noble and worthy type of pride - that which is long-sought and hard-earned is most deserving.

As it is, there are those who raise even what is not-sought and hardly-earned and flaunt it as if it were somehow a testament to their greatness. Acts such as this can do nothing except contribute to the degradation and humiliation of moral virtue. It is a hollow falseness that comes from pride in ease. We may as well be as proud of the sky's blue as of our native nationality, or of the day of our birth as of any uncultivated skill or natural ability we may possess. Ultimately cultivation and improvement is proof of value: anything worth doing is worth doing well. And for the best of things, we should neither shame nor deny any amount of hard work. In that unfortunate event we should call into question our own integrity towards hard work and pride,, as well as our valuation of the thing in question.

In the end, it is of utmost importance where our pride lies. Should pride be easily won, it shows a shallowness of character. Likewise, when the opposite is true, we reveal a high moral standard. And so as long as we trust an individual to be true to themselves and open with others, we can know them through their prides and values.

And so it is that through integrity and honesty, we are able to acccurately represent ourselves, and thus create the posssibility for ourselves and others to have pride in that which defines us.

Effort, too makes its mark. What carries the most value is most deserving of being earned. If we do not work towards our desires, we do not deserve to have them. And what then, if we should be so fortunate as to receive gifts? Whether innate or given for some reason, the answer remains the same. Just as we should earn what we deserve, we should make ourselves deserving of what we receive. Anything worth having, worth keeping, is as much a demand as it is a reward. With prosperity comes responsiblity - the responsiblity to make the best of it, to achieve the apex of possibilities. Only in doing this are we made worthy of prosperity. As members of humanity, we are indebted to what success we can create. As such the worst crime of all is to waste or withhold that which others can put to better use. The opposite claim cannot honestly be made by anyone of high morals, at least not without guilt - that there is no shame in laxness and gainless waste. How could a man ever take pride in a lack of achievement? There is no glory in praise of the needlessly rich. Wealth, strength, and ability are utterly meaningless if they are not put to some use. Very few are the things which are worth having for no other reason to have them. All else is worth having only when it is put to good use. Then - and only then - is it worthy of pride.

I had missed that same bus for the third time in that same week. As it was, my reliability at least (and at worst, the reputation of my integrity) was being demolished. And it was hardly my fault - could I help it if an old friend had unexpectedly sought me out for advice, keeping me awake long into the night? And if that plus my job at the newspaper wasn't enough, the problems of my personal life and my latest works were thrown into the mess. That mere few hours of sleep had wreaked a terrible toll on my temperament. That pressure, you can be sure, leaked its' way into my work. Let's see you at your best after three hours of sleep, and working an eight hour day! And still, the troubles only worsened. I had an essay hitting deadline in two days. By the time I had put the day's work into that too, I ended one day's torment to find myself waking for another - a terrible deluge of sleep left me groggy, grumpy, and late for work.

The next days were hardly better - agitated to the point of snapping even at my superiors, it came as no surprise when, just before noon today, I arrived at work an hour late thanks to the week's third missed bus. And as I expected, that was the end my job.

How much hell could I have expected from a phone call? What kind of moral lesson could you pull from that? "Don't help out a needy friend if you want to keep your job." OK, sure. I'm sure my life can only improve when selfishness wins the day, as I'm closed out by me closest friends and relatives. Oh, maybe that's it then - either way I'm screwed. Perfect. So much for the idea of reality as moral advice.

There's no way that I, in some way, am morally at fault here. Should I live differently because the bus schedule doesn't run five mintues earlier? Or because there was so little traffic one Sunday morning? Hardly. Is it that I shouldn't have hellped a friend in need? Of course not. Well, maybe I should tell my friends never to bother me. OK - as if she is wrong because she thought I could help, and chose that time to think of me. But the more I think about it, what really could have been done.? It's not like my bosses were so intolerant as to send me walking for one bad week - I've been late before, just as everyone has. But my superiors and I all know there was no other shift in which I could keep the hours I needed. Unless I wanted to risk losing my apartment, I had no more choice in the matter than they did - find someone new, or lose money and lower standards. They could hardly loosen my leash because I was one of the better pups. That would start a howling in the kennel like you've never heard. Most mutts don't realize that 'fairness' means 'disregard merit'. And so in the business world, that translates to - 'Lose the best when his faults shape the rest.'

And that's where I am now - taking the same bus route back across downtown (No, I didn't miss it this time.). And why? What really caused it all? I don't blame the bus or Sunday traffic. I don't blame myself or a a beloved friend out of the past. I don't even blame the manager - despite any animosity I might feel towards the instrument of circumstance. What it comes down to is that for all the listeners, the notes just turned out wrong. The schedules of my coworkers, a rent bill just high enough that I can't afford a car....a million unrelated things culminated in me losing my job. And unless I get a good price on my next publishing, all things considered it looks like I'll spend a few weeks in the car. And all for nothing, all of it just the unfortunate circumstance of living how I see fit. I wouldn't dream of turning down that friend, even if I knew this is what would come of it. In the end what could I do but accept it, as if it were inevitable? Sure, I could have changed - and that makes me as responsible as everything else. I could have found a new job with less troublesome hours. I could have found an apartment closer to where I worked, somewhere I wouldn't need to take the bus. There are just so many possibilities. Hell, maybe the manager could have had a better day. Life changes in a moment, and even something that seems blatantly good or bad at the time might not be so, given time. We always hear about 'hidden treasures' or 'blessings in disguise' but never about the just-as-common 'death by cake' or 'concealed weapons'. Ultimately, I think I've got it figured out.

In the end, I'm here on this homeward bound bus, thinking, what can we do but our best? What can we do, but never stop trying, striving to do everything possible to lead our lives to the fullest? That's the only real bit of control that we always have - the knowledge that whatever happens, whatever goes wrong, whatever forces itself upon us and whatever fate or determinism throws atop our shoulders, that weight is nothing when you can take it all in stride. That's a metaphor - I'm tired, so I'm taking the bus. Hell, after all of this, what could be better than a nice nap? Because no matter what happens, we can hardly hope for anything else to come and turn our lives around, not here or hereafter. Hoping for some perfect life is like hoping for everything you have to come to an end. Because life is anything but perfect - and that's what makes it so enjoyable! Instead, just hope - not for anything in particular, just hope for the better, shoot for the best, and work for it. Don't wait on someone else to solve your problems. If your hope isn't for yourself, for the work of your own hands, you can hardly expect for someone else to hope and work for you! You have to give your best before you deserve someone else's.

In the end it doesn't matter how we got here, it's what we did in the meantime - what we really did about it. Our actions alone determine who we are and what we leave behind. The individual is the interpreter of the world. And so it doesn't matter how we got here or even where we are. That doesn't change what we have to do. "We can't change the past, so we must improve the future." Some obscure philosopher said that, and he couldn't be more right. There's no point in moping over what's been done. And it's fine to live life how you want, freely, and unpressured by how anyone else thinks you should live, as long as you remember where you're going, who you are, and how you're going to get there. Because the journey matters too, just in case you don't end up where you were headed. Things and people change, and it's a terrifying thing should you learn that what you had sought and struggled towards isn't quite what you thought it was. And then what have you lived for, if not for yourself?

And that's what it is - that's what I've found out. The ultimate truth of existentialism, which puts every idea of fate, destiny and determinism into their long due graves. It supersedes any moral belief, it is more important than any faith or religion. It is this: it isn't about who is to blame, but whose is the responsiblity. The answer? Who is responsible for your life? You.

Every beginning is an end, just as every end is a beginning. These words have run through mind so much recently, more than most of my other thoughts. My life thus far, especially recently, can be summed up with that statement. In fact, it is the only statement fit to begin a chronicle of where I have been, and where I will yet go.

On the date of September eighth, two thousand and eight, I departed from my lifelong residence of Rancho Cordova, California and traveled north some eight-hundred-plus miles to Bend, Oregon.

These facts do not speak for themselves. Doing so changed my life irreversibly. It was a choice that I made completely independently, even while knowing the wishes of those many I left behind and those few who were already in Bend. In the end, I knew that I alone had the ability to move me. No other could make the decision that I would follow. That is one of the rules I follow - rule yourself. We cannot let others make of us what they desire. We are not the second chance of another! In the end it had to be a decision, my decision - not just the result of any force, even my own. It was a decision that was the result of every thought that filled my head, that plagued me for quite some time before.

My life as I saw it, put simply, was a failure, or at least becoming one. You could even have called it a wreck or disaster, but not quite as some would use the word. Because frankly, it was a small wreck - nothing of major consequence has ever happened to me. I do not pretend to crawl from some adverse situation. But in the end, it all depends on defintion.

I could be reduced to a demographic easily enough: unemployed, white young male, late graduation, without good marks. Little work experience, with only a short time living outside of the parent's home. To the eyes of society: a poor excuse (it begs the question: what is a failure in a failing society? -Think!). Overall, I was one with no real accomplishments to boast of. No exceptional marketable skills, and negligent work experience. Futureless.

But hear my story!

Growing

From early age, both my blood brother and I have been the holders of superb intelligence. We boast IQs of about 129 and 131, his the higher (not official tests, but prolly accurate within a few points). I was told by a person who mattered very much to me at the time (but who later degnerated into a thing I detest) that "You've got the world by the balls. You can do anything you want." I believed him, and had no reason not to.

As I slowly learned, I excelled at most things I put my mind and effort into. I ran through a number of hobbies in my late teens. In each of them, just like the last, I was always ahead of my peers, during my public schooling being often known as the smartest kid in the school. Not quite an accomplishment, but as a child it means much, and isn't so easily forgotten.

And yet, with every victory came something else, something that even now, most do not know about me. It was easy! It was nothing! As a child, I had always heard stories of legendary people, legendary efforts who ovecame the most insurmountable odds. I wanted to be like those people! All things legendary and storybook appealed to me - I wanted to be the hero, of myself, and of those I knew. But I found that I didn't have this. (My admiration of myth and legend still grows!)

And as I grew and learned more and acquired new hobbies, I began to do something that will for the rest of be perhaps the most important aspect of my spirit. If I am so much better than those around me, what can I do but not judge myself by them? Slowly, I began to elitise myself. I only compared myself to those who were the best. Eventually it did not matter to me that in my hobbies I exceeded professionals. Real, working, well-paid professionals. It didn't matter! It was easy! What does it matter how good you are, if there was no effort? What have you done to earn it? Memories of accomplishment - like that of a mathematics contest at age eleven, upon the victory of which I was hoisted upon on the shoulders of a classmate in the midst of a crowd - began to mean very little to me, to the point of attempting to trash the petite trophy. And no matter what my mother and father may have thought of that, and all my fellows and relatives, to me it meant nothing.

Construction

I had a number of hobbies, all of which I taught myself. I was never taught to write, to play the guitar, never taught German or philosophy or poetry. In fact, in retrospect there were very few people who had any intellectual influence on me at all. I have to give eternal credit to my instructors and teachers: Donald Brennan and John Nichols, Randall Fritz, David Rominger, and McGarvey. My grandfather and grandmother, too, I continue to admire immensely in everything they do. Besides these few, who were instrumental in my moral development, and without whom I would not be who I am today, I have been instructed by only myself and the geniuses of literature and philosophy. But from my living teachers and role models I learned integrity. I learned that I cannot be anyone besides who I am, and before I can do anything at all I must learn to accept the responsibility of myself.

My most prominent hobby brought me into social circles that came to define my life, being equaled in importance to few other things. Thus far, my life is a culmination of four things: my father's incapacitation, literature, my natural all-encompassing talent, and gaming. Gaming was my greatest and favorite hobby. I had some bit of real success in the circle. In general ability, I was at times among the best players between the Bay and Washington. This was a group filled in by mostly my closest friends - my first teachers, and my partners and rivals. My ability placed me in the top 30% of players. I eventually became a well-respected intellectual member of the society as well, though nobody goes without some opposition.

This hobby was unique not only in how much love I had for it but in that it was the first time I gave a lot of effort and did not rise immediately to near the top. And again, even though I did work hard to earn such a position, I looked mostly upwards. That is no flaw, but I was at times foolishly headstrong when I looked back on my past. The trouble is that I did more looking 'down' than I did looking 'back'. I had the arrogance to not care who I had been and what I had overcome, but who I had beat. In retrospect, I may have been motivated in part by redemption - a proof of ability, that I could work hard to do well at something I did not naturally excel at.

Revaluation

I had begun writing by this time. I first began writing in March of 2006, but not until October of 2007 did I begin writing my own philosophy in the form which it is built on today. The key to that was F.W. Nietzsche. In the scope of a few months I read everything available in English. My writings before that time were, simply put, childish and stupid. They were all quite hasty - the majority of the articles I wrote during that time were written in one sitting, then reviewed and edited by myself before online posting. They have since been purged, but I have pocketed them for history's laugh. Looking back someday, we will likely all be surprised at just how stupid and foolish I was at seventeen! But perhaps the same can be said of every day. Those thoughts of seventeen were often based merely on supporting the beliefs I then held. They were not a result of deep philosophic and intellectual thought of my own, as those after Nietzsche were, who pushed me onto the path of finding truth for myself.

And so by the summer of 2008, as full of life my hobbies were, and with more spending money than I had ever had to myself, I had a good life. On the whole my life was in good shape. I was writing, a hobby that again I found I excelled at, and one I found I enjoyed. It employed all powers of intellect and style that I had. I was and remain well respected, perhaps even honored, by many friends, and a large social circle through gaming. My word was important to a good many people, or so I hope and think, though I often hesitate to judge myself. And sadly I rarely get critical feedback. Overall, I was living for myself, and I loved it.

Degrading into the fall, I lost my job to what I could john (that is, excuse badly) as not being a 'morning person'. Laziness played a part, but most importantly a lack of care was the cause. Perhaps - indifference is the father of laziness. The lack of work began to take its toll. I had some money saved, but not much, thanks to a very free lifestyle. It was not that I was over consumptive, only excessive. I tend to give money more freely than most, often using more on others each paycheck than myself.

The Creation from Destruction

I had begun being torn apart, even before actually losing the job, by the force of a familial pressure to achieve, to become something more than what I was. My hobbies became a refuge for a person who, with incredible talent and an IQ of 130, was otherwise a social and financial failure. I was expected to become something greater than all of them, because I was more capable. It was not that I was discontent or dissatisfied with the actual message (I do know what I am capable of). It was that all that I could hear was this:

You are better than us. Listen to us tell you what to do with your life!

I couldn't stand it! If I was better, smarter, was I not fit to decide for myself? To lead myself, even into social failure, if that was the result of my attempt? Already I had become a recluse, or at least as much as the life of a teenager with a demanding hobby allowed. I would spend hours alone, locked up in my room, with books, the pen, or simply thinking. I could not stand that, for everything I knew, everything I was capable of - having spent several years studying philosophy and literature - I was still being commanded merely out of rule of seniority! This is the same rule that ensures terrible workers keep their jobs, while those who can properly do it are stuck at the most unsuitable places, where their skills can rot.

I couldn't stand it! I was quite enjoying my life before then. But coupled with a persistent fit of depression, my family's words turned what I thought to be a good life into a terrible failure. It was something that I had not much considered. My philosophic conclusions, at that time, were reaching that lowest point. Any person familiar with pessimistic, nihilistic, or existentialist depression can attest. It was not emotionally caused. The cause of my depressed emotions were philosophic - I had to learn to come to grips with ideas that, to this day, terrify the majority of the world into religous submission, and away from the ultimate idea of life and self as a work of art. That statement - Life as Art - is, in a quip, a central idea of my philosophy, one built upon the nihilist-pessimist depression I encountered.

And that is my story. Not to be pretentious, I have realized that I will likely meet very few, if any peers. I can't tell you exactly what description to place on my type: lunatic, prince, idiot, prodigy, naive fool, genius - they all fit, I think, so take your favorite pick!

Decision - 'Life as Art'

In the end, you could say that I was scared into a choice - I saw my choices laid out before me, in a brilliant splash of prescience, that told me of futures as far as many as I was willing to see. It was a choice of possibilities and limits. But I do not think I made any decision out of fear. If anything, it merely forced me to move now. I made the choice to abandon nearly everything that kept my life where it was. Every facet of my life that restrained me, that kept me attached to where I was I knew I had to abandon. Being pressured by my family, and my ability, my entire life was stagnating. I drew closer to many a good thing in my life, my hobbies and my closest friends - even a too-heavy binge in hash, in order to escape pressure and nihilism. As I was, I was using these good things as distractions, retreats. It didn't matter that they were good things - I did it to escape, to hide from fault! A right decision for the wrong reasons is not a good decision!

These were the pressures which brought me to face the decision. On the one hand, I could remain where I was, get a new job, continue as my family expected of me, and continue my hobbies. In short, I could continue exactly what I had been doing for the past two or three years.

Or, I could abandon everything. I faced giving up the adoration, the respect of everyone who knew me, my friends and social peers, most of whom I will most likely never see again. I would be giving up all of that. I would be leaving my family, for who knows how long. I would be leaving behind nearly all my belongings as well. And for what? For what would you give up everything you had, your entire life? I do not claim to be the first to make such a choice, but that does not change the importance of it to my life.

I would give it all up for the one thing I would take with me away from that place, a stagnant mire of life, and into my future.

For the first time in my life, I am free to do what I want most. And it isn't that I am free of obligation here. That isn't it at all - the family I have here deserves that from me - but I am free to pursue my own ideas, in a place where I am accepted not for what I can do, or for the place I came, but for myself. I am here today, and judged today, for the person that I am today. Nothing more, nothing less. What more can I ask? Here and today, I am able to freely choose what I want, and I am fully responsible for any good or any evil that falls upon me. It is not a freedom I chose simply for the good of it. I could have as easily sat in California and be weaned and weakened. I took the option that threw me out into the sea of possiblity.

I do not know where I will go from here. I do not know if I will become rich and famous and succesful, surrounded by loved ones. I do not know if I will become a lonely failure, blind by forty-five and dead by sixty. I do not know. But as of this moment it does not matter a bit. I am myself. Here I am my own person. And more than anything else in the world, that is what I wish to be, for better or for worse.

This is what I have created. I shape my life and myself as I do every other outlet of my ability - I make my life and my self into what I wish them to be. Life as art is a doctrine that transcends, that supersedes, outweighs any metaphysical or religious truth. I have chosen my life, I have chosen these paths and these events.

The end of my yesterday is the most important beginning. The end of an old era is the beginning of a new life.