Nineteen

Just A Note-I'm plugging away at my book, and I'm really enjoying the writing process. Looking back at myself while I was doing the project and writing about myself as a nineteen year old is one of my favorite things. The nostalgia alone is intoxicating. So here's another chunk of what I think will be in my book. It will most likely stay as the first chapter. Short and sweet, it's sort of a snapshot of what my life looked like at the height of my lethargic days as a nineteen year old. I'd appreciate any feedback.

It’s embarrassing for me to think about, and even more for me to admit; but at one point in my life, I was a nineteen year old boy.

I’m sorry.

The typical nineteen year old boy is a vile creature. Spending most of his daylight hours burrowed away in the safety of a bedroom in his father’s suburban home; the nineteen year old only leaves the poster plastered walls of his teenage sanctuary for the occasional bathroom break, or to heat up some sort of microwavable entree. 
There is no sleep cycle for this creature. Rather, his stream of consciousness just sort of fluctuates between states of semi-awake and sort of asleep throughout the day. The nineteen year old communicates exclusively in one word -preferably one syllable- sentences, and speaks in a pseudo-language made up of a mixture of sighs, grunts, and the word “dude”. Since school is no longer mandated, brain activity slows down to a modest crawl. This particular nineteen year old dropped out of college after what he claims was a “college try” (approximately 3 weeks).

As night falls, and the world goes to sleep, the boy begins his day. He strategically waits until the rest of the house is asleep before heading into the bathroom to start his morning routine. If for some reason the boy does not wait a sufficient amount of time before leaving his room, he might run into someone. And for a boy his age, any social interaction is feared and prevented at all costs. He has learned from experience that nothing good can come from talking to anyone. His brain is still in that mushy infancy stage between childhood and adulthood, and his social skills have been on the decline since high school. Even a conversation with a family member or friend is reserved as a last resort. The chances of saying something stupid or experiencing his voice crack is more of a guarantee than a chance. 

This boy is wise to stay secluded in his room, for in his room, adults dare not enter. Due to the unbearable stench of neglected teenage laundry that permeates the walls of his den, he is safe from interrogation from a parent or loved one. Inside his room he is free to do what he wants, which is mostly drink chocolate milk and draw cartoons.

After the nineteen year old is certain that all chance of social interaction has been avoided, he heads into the bathroom. Depending on the week, he may, or may not choose to shower (a double-dabbing of deodorant stick is also an option). A fresh change of clothes happens even less frequently. Through his desire to exert the least amount of energy possible, the boy follows a rotating schedule for t-shirts and pants to ensure that he only does laundry every month or so. 

1. Wear dark colored clothing to cover up food stains
2. Alternate t-shirts daily to avoid suspicion
3. Wear jeans as long as desired (nobody cares about jeans)

In the bathroom mirror, the nineteen year old carefully examines himself. His ever changing body is in the process of becoming an adult. His scattered acne is slowly traded for patchy whiskers, and his Adam's apple is so prominent that it might tear through the skin. After about 20 minutes of flexing in the mirror, the boy inevitably decides not to shower after all. He makes a stop in the kitchen to ravage the contents of the fridge before retreating back to his musky bedroom.

Once he is settled in, he spends the rest of his waking hours scrolling through the social media feeds of his drifting high school classmates while watching documentaries about outer space.

The life of a nineteen year old is one of leisure. His schedule is relaxed, his bank account is empty, and all he really wants to do is to waste more time alone in his smelly bedroom.

A Little Bit About Optimisim

I've been writing a book for the past couple months and I thought I'd post a little rant from it. The book is my accounts of the year I resolved to try something new every day for one year. That year has been one of the most educational and memorable experiences of my life. I've learned a lot about myself (where my comfort zone resides, and how to overcome it) and thought that some of the stories would be fun to read. Below is an exerpt from a very very very rough draft that I am working on. It is probably littered with mistakes, and who knows if I'll even keep it in the final copy, but I figured I'd let you read it...

“Pessimists never left the cave, and never got eaten. Optimists left to explore...and they became lunch. Realists left the caves, but not without a club.”  That’s a saying that I’ve heard a lot growing up, especially from my father who is a self confessed realist. It’s a nice little saying, and it means well, but ever since my father first recited it to me, I’ve had a couple of issues. Sure, I see the value of being a realist, who doesn’t? Being a realist -or in other words, being both an optimist and pessimist depending on the situation- makes a lot of sense. Keep you eyes open to the potential wonders of the world, but always be cautious of the eminent pitfalls too. I can dig that Maybe the glass is half full, maybe it’s half empty, or maybe it’s just a glass of lemonade and you should enjoy it without asking so many questions. My dad's outlook towards outlooks make a lot of sense, but this isn’t my dad’s book is it? This is my book, and I’m gonna fill it with as many illogical opinions that I see fit!

I’d like to start off by stating that I consider myself an optimist. When I tell people this, they often give me the same look. I think it’s the same look that people make when their friends tell them how great Kale is. They look at me almost like I'm poking fun at them. Like I see all the problems and annoyances that they’re dealing with and surely I have my own fair share, but instead of doing the socially courteous thing and complain in harmony with them, I chose to dilute my reality with optimism and sunshine. And I get it, life’s hard. Sometimes when you’re venting about your troubles, you’re not looking for an answer. Sometimes you just want to complain about the jerk-off teacher you have, or the court summons you received. Some problems don’t really need a solution, they just need a friend to vent to. It’s become more apparent that I am a crummy friend in these sort of situations.

None of this is to say that I don’t also fall victim of thinking negatively either. Some situations just suck. I’ve gone entire weeks with nothing but rotten days. Just like everybody else, I’ve been embarrassed and taken advantage of. Being optimistic doesn’t prevent or protect me from the shitty things that inevitably will happen to me, in fact it makes it all the more painful when those things do happen. Pessimists only fall a peg or two when they have a bad day, but optimists are falling from dangerous altitudes for the same occurrences. So if being optimistic makes social interactions with normal people awkward, and unfortunate events horribly painful, then why in the world would anyone ever consider being positive? Well, I’d argue, that statistics makes a pretty convincing case to advocate optimism.

Here’s my argument on optimism. Put simply, it’s all a matter of odds. The odds that anyone was ever anything is seriously the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever contemplated. The sheer astronomical -no scratch that, astronomical doesn’t even come close- the sheer hyper-colossal-astronomical odds that you have ever been, is the great unspoken anxiety attack of our lives.

Think about it, really think about it for a second. Just imagine all the shit that had to go completely perfect in order for you to make it to this very sentence. Life is linear, and it’s been going for the past 13.82 billion years. Let me ask you, what are the odds that you’d be able to sink a billiards shot if the pocket hole was 13.82 billion years away? A lot of stuff could get in the way, seems like a slim chance right? Imagine a pool table that stretched out infinitely in every direction, and instead of the standard 16 or so pool balls, there was an innumerable amount of cosmic distractions blocking your shot. Quasars and black holes and any number of planets, stars and space debris whizzing through your balls trajectory. Imagine that you can’t even see the pocket that you’re shooting for. Even if you had the best telescope ever made, it would be of no use because the pocket is so far away that light traveling from it would be taking millions of years to complete it's travel. Then if you somehow pull off that impossible shot, you have to hope that the planet you sent ends up orbiting around a star. This star would have to be stable, and the orbit would have to fall in the Goldilocks Zone so the planet is not too hot and not too cold to support life. The pool table is so large, the obstacles are so many, and the timeline is so great, that they’re not really even odds anymore, are they? Logistically speaking, there’s no way that a shot like that could be made on a cosmic level, it just couldn’t happen.

Cosmically there’s a lot that could go wrong, and it’s truly an oddity that things have worked out so well for us down here on Earth. But space, that’s the easy part, down on Earth is where the odds really get stacked against you. To get to where you are at this very moment the most impressive Rube Goldberg machine has been hard at work. Throughout every single generation that has ever lived, life has been one big killing machine. And through all of those generations, your ancestors somehow navigated through the sea of dangerous and downright deadly hazards long enough to pass on their genes setting off the chain of reactions that eventually ended up making you. They fended off sickness and behooved tragedy constantly. But even if your great, great, great, great (you get the idea) great grandfather survived the onslaught of war and disease, passing his legacy on was still an uphill battle. Shorter life spans and less than ideal transportation made finding love incredibly hard. You needed to find a spouse, and you needed to do so quick. And imagine, if you’re the guy who survives the wars, and beats the sicknesses, and overcomes every odd that life could throw your way, and at the moment you’re about to ask out a girl that could one day become the mother of your children, she notices that you have a piece of lettuce stuck in your teeth. She is tempted to say yes, which would lead to the triumphant march of your genes carrying on into another era, but seeing as the lettuce is rather sizable, decides to say no, killing any chance you had to live on through your ancestory.

So many minute things had to align so perfectly for life to happen, that for any of it to happen at all is amazing. Personally, I know that I owe someone or something an unpayable debt. I think about out it often, how lucky I am. I am a person, and simply to be able to realize that is a miracle. But there’s more. I am a person, living in undoubtedly the most prosperous time throughout all of Earth’s history. Not only am I alive on a small blue planet whirring through space, but I am doing so while avoiding the infinite amount of deadly obstacles that litter our planet’s orbit. And even on Earth, I’m the luckiest to have ever lived. I live in a time of great accessibility. Medicine, goods, transportation, information, communication, all of these are very literally at my fingertips, a luxury that has never been offered before. We have an ever increasing understanding of ourselves and our potential. Diseases that once wiped out entire generations have been eradicated, distances that used to take lifetimes to cross are easily taxied. Never before has our species felt more empowered, and for good reason. Hell, we got out of the food chain, that’s never been done before.

I have rights, and I have free time. And that is something that only a fraction of a percent of the hundred billion or so humans who have lived before me have gotten to enjoy. Most people had a very rough life, and I owe an uncountable number of those people, for my life.

So flying through space on a tiny blue planet is a death wish, and depending on a comically large amount of people throughout history to safely pass on their genetic blueprint in order for me to be here today is beyond impressive, but there’s one more part of this optimism thing that I’d like to explore. So say that the planet safely steered past all the black holes over the past 13 billion years, and suppose that humanity didn’t blow itself up before you had a chance to be. Those odds are nothing compared to the lotto every single living person has won. What are the odds you might ask? Well, to put it simply, the ridiculous odds that the particular sperm that made you, was chosen instead of the 300 million others available.

Do yourself a favor and think about that for a while. Sure our planet is dodging every potential pitfall in sight, and sure our ancestors got pretty damn lucky not dying before they had kids, but this? The 1 in 300 million chance that you were picked to become the baby that your mother would birth is beyond bananas. This fact, tied in with the others (and many that I just don’t have the time to name) is the most ridiculous thing I have ever contemplated. That 13 billion year old billiards shot is so improbable, that our existence should probably be considered to be statistically impossible.

Every single person you see walking around is a winner of this cosmic/genetic/luck lottery. We shouldn’t be here, none of us, but here we are. The greatest underdog story of all time, we not only survived these apocalyptic disasters, but we’re currently thriving in them.

So that’s sort of the direction I go when a coworker of mine complains that I’m bad at listening to their problems. But can you blame me? Seriously, after all that we’ve been through, the eons of life threatening dangers and the ridiculous (I could use any word cause it’s impossible to turn this instance into a hyperbole) odds that we have overcome just to simply be. We have all won an infinite amount of lotteries, and we all owe an infinite amount of people for being in the exact right place in the exact right time throughout history, and you’re telling me that you’re sad because of a little rain? I am a realist because I view my circumstances in a logical way. I leave the cave but I bring a club. And in viewing the world, and the insane odds that I’ve overcome in order to experience it, I have absolutely no choice but to be completely and totally optimistic about it.

Gadget the Robot Short Poem

A short poem about your favorite robot complete with some illustrations. I hope you enjoy!

Direction

It's been a while since my last post. And this tends to happen pretty regularly; I seek refuge in my blog only when it's convenient for me. When things are going great, and sun is shining, and I'm happily staying busy with the things I enjoy, I completely abandon my blog. But as soon as a bad day turns up, or something frustrating rears its head at me, I duck deep into my journal entries. Being this consistently inconsistent feels pathetic and immature, but worst of all, it's not productive.

Getting frustrated is going to happen, and I'm not saying it shouldn't. I should, and totally am, prepared to deal with a monumental amount of frustration. I mean seriously, writing and illustrating children's books and documenting my creative and just plain strange adventures surely isn't the path of least resistance. Frustration is a good thing; frustration is quality control for life. If I wasn't frustrated from time to time about where I plan on (scratch that-dream of) being in the future, then whose to say that it'll be worth it by the time I get there?

No, frustration isn't what I'm frustrated about. I'm frustrated about me and what it is that I actually want. I want to know exactly what I want. That sounds stupid, but hear me out.

I like to make things, and when people notice the things that I make, we tend to talk about other things I've made. Children's books, and art shows, and autobiographical blog projects are pretty interesting, but it's usually just a matter of time until that person says something along the lines of

     "So, what is it that you're actually trying to do?"

And that's my problem, I don't have an answer. Well, I don't have a clear cut answer, not one I fully believe in myself anyway. I usually reply with my go to response which is:

     "I want to make things."

Don't get me wrong, the response is true, and I even believe it. But it's such a vague answer to such a clear question. I want to KNOW what it is that I want to do, and to be, and to mean to people. I want to be certain about myself, because I KNOW that I'm motivated, and I KNOW that I've got some talent, and I KNOW that I've got something of value to offer. The only thing that I hesitate with is direction, not knowing where I'm going, or where I'd like to be.

So I still don't know exactly what it is I'd like to be, whatever that even means. But I'm taking a stand and I'm going to finally sit down and actually write out what it is I want. These may seem obvious, especially to the people around me (it's all I talk about), but if I don't make it painfully clear what I want, then I'll be frustrated and unhappy even when I get it. Using my list of criteria, I should be able to piece together a direction for myself.

Here's what I want:
I want to...
     Publish my children's book
     Publish more children's books
     Create things that people enjoy. By people who are not obligated to like it
     Publish a book about my Jack Of All Trades Project with my own illustrations
     Support myself off of my creativity without feeling like a business person...or a whore
     Move out (but that's a whole blog entry in itself)
     Be better than I was yesterday...every single day

There you go, or there "I" go I suppose, cause I'm the only one who even reads this. Here's a short, impromptu list of what I actually want. Now it's up to me to make it all happen. I'll still have moments of frustration, and of confusion and self doubt. But I know what I'm worth and now I know where I' going.

Thoughts About Art

     On the very first day of the only drawing class I took in high school, the teacher introduced herself by saying "There is good art, and there is bad art. My job is to teach you how to tell the difference". And I can't help but think back to her smug, arrogant approach to art every time the chip on my shoulder starts to act up.

     The fact that she knew, she just knew what made art good, or what made art bad, or what constituted art at all is the kind of shit that turned me off from the subject in the first place. To introduce herself from the top of her pretentious pedestal, and to brag so boldly that she is the all knowing authority of something as subjective as art, is beyond me. Who is she to say what is or is not art?

      Art- the thing that has escaped a definitive definition throughout it's existence. The thing that means something completely different to every single person on the entire planet. The thing that could potentially be done by anyone, anywhere, by using anything.

      As a general rule of thumb, I would consider just about anything art. If something is art to anyone, even if the creator disagrees, then it's art. If you can take something from it, then it's art. Even if you argue that you can't take anything away from whatever it is, I'd argue that you can "take away" the fact that you can't take away anything from it...making it art. I'm not talking about the perception of the viewer, or the vision of the artist, or any of the other bullshit concepts taught in drawing 101, either.

     All I'm saying is I was genuinely and instantly offended by how this teacher felt she should introduce herself. To assume superiority over a class of sixteen year old's on a cultural subject so broad just blew me away. It's so accessible that anyone can find their own way to participate; to take part in some small way. But it's also frustratingly inaccessible because everyone's personal view of what art is, or could be, or should be- varies dramatically. What you think of, or feel when you experience art (in the broadest possible sense) is personal, and absolutely unique to you. If you like what you are experiencing- good. If you don't- good; you don't always get exactly what you want anyways, just be glad you were there in the first place.

     The point is, you are free to like what you like, and dislike what you don't. Or to feel confused, or unsure; or any of the other infinite ways that art (in all of it's infinite forms) can make you feel. And for someone to assume so certainly, that they know better, is pretentious. To take something as universal yet intimate as art, and divide everything it encompasses into just two categories is...Well it's a dick move. To say that no matter how intensely something means to you; a song, a painting, a movie, a quote, a personality, a place, a memory- that it can be placed in just one of two of her categories; good or bad, is infuriating.

Like what you like, or don't. Or don't do anything at all. Every single thing you experience in life is up to you to interpret, not your fucking know-it-all (f)art teacher from high school.

Kyle: Spontaneous Idealist

     So I was thinking to myself, "Kyle, how are you going to properly introduce yourself for this week's challenge?" and then I was all "Bam! Here's how I'm gonna do it! I'm going to get way too personal and take an online personality test and slap the results on an entry for ya'll to study." So yeah, that's how this all came to be.

     41q.com is the site I used to get my inner understanding on. It's super simple and easy; just go through the 41 questions and choose the answer that you identify with most. Then, they work their magic and tell you things about yourself that you'd hope you'd know by now.

     As you can see, I'm pretty one-sided on some of the traits. I'm all about the intuitive, feeling, and perceiving categories. I just like that I'm about as far away as you can get from being considered a thinking man.

     The test was pain free and the results were fun to look at; but who knows how precise this sort of stuff even is. The results could be just broad enough that anyone could take a look at em and see a piece of themselves in them. But even still, I liked what I saw. I like being a "Spontaneous Idealist"; it makes it sound more like an achievement than a diagnosis. I like feeling more than thinking anyways. To me, it's like choosing to focus on "what could be", as opposed to "what isn't".

     Take a look at what else 41q.com had to say about me. Here it is, straight from the web horses mouth:

 Your personality type: "Spontaneous Idealist"

Enthusiastic, idealistic and creative. Able to do almost anything that interests them. Great people skills. Need to live life in accordance with their inner values. Excited by new ideas, but bored with details. Open-minded and flexible, with a broad range of interests and abilities.

Careers that could fit you include:

Actors, journalists, writers, musicians, painters, consultants, psychologists, psychiatrists, entrepreneurs, teachers, counselors, politicians, diplomats, television reporters, marketers, scientists, sales representatives, artists, clergy, public relations, social scientists, social workers.

     Just incase you didn't get your fill of Kyle for this week, here's a video I made where I talk about myself. It was really awkward to film, but I filmed it anyways (#professionalism).

Constantly Create: Introductions and Explanations

Imma' do what I do, but I'll do it for you.

     Hello, I'm Kyle, and by now you may know me. I'm a life enthusiast from Denver, Colorado, and a maker of anything and everything from children's books about radical robots, to stop-motion YouTube videos about edible Rubik's Cubes. I enjoy making "things", I enjoy making just about anything really. Hell, I can't go without doodling on my (veggie) cheeseburger with the spout of the ketchup bottle when I get the chance. The point is this; I really enjoy making things, and I really enjoy making them for you.
     That being said; I am very excited to announce a new project I am starting that is all about creating content for you guys. As you probably could have guessed from the entry's title, the project is called Constantly Create; and I have a feeling (that like my other projects) I'm going to be completely consumed by this one. Here's what you need to know to be apart of it:

What is it?:
     Obvious question, but I suppose a necessary one too. Constantly Create is a project that will focus on one topic/theme/or challenge each week and span a number of different mediums and social media platforms as I share what I make with you. Each week, I will do my best to create at least three things to share with you. Whether its an illustration, a video, a blog post (or even a haiku for all I know), that is somehow related or influenced by the week's topic/theme/or challenge.

Why? Just...Why?
     Good question, I haven't spent much time thinking about an answer, so I don't really know. I do know that I enjoy creating content, and I'd like to motivate myself to do more of it, so a project that does just that seems grand. Also, all I have is time on my hands.

Soooo, What's the plan again?
     I am challenging myself to make more stuff, and I am asking for your help to do that. I want this project to be community driven; meaning you guys help decide what content I create and post. I you want to suggest different mediums for me to try; like photography, comic art, spoken word, even interpretative dancing, I'd be happy to hear from you. You will be able to suggest future topics/themes/and challenges and will be updated with links to view all of the content produced for the project all on my Facebook page.

How're you gonna do it?
     Another great question. So I've decided that I will aim to produce at least three different pieces of content that relate back to the the week's theme. Throughout the week (I'm thinking Monday, Wednesday and Friday) I'll share the things I make with you on whatever social media site is most appropriate for that medium.
     For example, if the theme for the week was skateboarding and I wanted to write a blog post about my love for all things skating; I'd post my entry here, on my blog (cause it just makes sense). But if I was going to post an illustration; I'd post it on my Instagram. And the same can be said about videos being posted to my YouTube account.
   
Wow, you're so cool Kyle. How do I get in on the action?
     Thank you for the kind words and enthusiasm. If you're at all interested in this project, or would like to participate by suggesting future topics and challenges, or maybe even winning something like one of the illustrations, then I would really reeeeeeeeally appreciate it if you would "like" this lonely lil Facebook page of mine. "Liking" it is how you'll get updates about the project, and info about how to view said illustration/video/post/ etc. I promise to do my very best to not post garbage content if you do.

Anything else we should know?
     Hmmmm, I can't think of anything right now, but I'll update you through the Facebook page if I do. Here's a rundown of what I'm talkin bout Willis.

• One main topic or theme for each week
• Three pieces of content that deal with the topic for that week
• If you like what I do, I'd appreciate it if you would say "hello" over on my page or share this project with a friend

     Oh I thought of something! So this post isn't actually part of the project, it's just an introduction and explanation, but this week's theme is just that; "Introductions and explanations". So throughout this week, I will update my page with videos/illustrations/and blog entries that help me introduce myself to you. It's like a way for me to break the ice and let ya'll know way too much about me. So hope you're all excited, cause I'm gonna do this thing either way. Thanks again!