Digital Hoarding

I've been dead for a week.

Hello everyone, my name is Bobby, and I'm a media hoarder.

Recently, I've been going through the various files on my computer. Everything has gotten into such disarray (as if it were ever in any real order) that about a month ago, I finally broke down and decided to start organizing everything so I could actually find the pictures I needed.

My major project has been to go through my pictures folder and simply start there, seeing as how this is the major area of disorganization on my computer. Everything else is rather managed, save for some... erm... personal material. Yeah, that's a project I'm not even going to consider starting anytime soon.

My first goal was to start creating folders. From there, I would organize the images I had in the chaotic abyss of my picture folder into a more organized fashion. But as I quickly found out... thing's were not as simple as they seemed. No, no... they were only going to get worse.

Here's an example. Let's say I have this picture of OC superstar Mischa Barton.

No computer is complete without one.

At first I though, I'll just put it in the Television folder. Yet... I soon ran into other pictures of celebrities who were not in their stage role. So... I was confused. So I created a "Celebrities" folder, which was separate from  "Movies" and "Television" folder. Then came images of cartoons and anime, all of which had to be in their own folders too, because they weren't real. Then came musicians and music, which I put in one "Music" folder, but seperate from my "American Idol" folder, because that's a mixture of TV AND Music.

All of this led me to one question: How fucking important is it that I keep all these pictures? Why do I need them? Some of them made no sense. Literally no sense. Here are some images, straight from my hard drive, that I don't even remember saving, don't know the purpose behind, and perhaps most baffling of all, feel a strange sense of connection to that prevents me from deleting them.

This is just a small sample of the madness. It's the strangest thing... It's almost like the less sense they make, the more beautiful they are to me. Like that nobody else would save them, so by me saving them, they have some strange intrinsic value.

On a more meaningful note though, it has given me a chance to organize photos of family, friends and I; things that DO have meaningful value. Organizing them was an enjoyable trip down memory lane.

I think digital hoarding is a problem in our day and age. I have a friend who has filled multiple terabyte hard drives with material, a feat I fortunately haven't accomplished. With 50 folders, many of which have sub-folders, and exactly 775 unorganized images left, I'm well on my way to being organized. But honestly, to what end? In the long run, why am I really doing this?

Oh yeah, that's right...

...I have no life.

Image literally taken from my "Sad" folder.

And The Winner Is...

So... you found happiness. That's awesome. Like, no joke, I'm really happy for you, I really am. Why? Because you're a pretty awesome person, and quite frankly I like you a lot. I guess I was hoping that you could've found that with me, or maybe I was just hoping to find that in you. But it's ok... Always a day late and a dollar short.

I don't know why I hesitate. I think sometimes I get so close to success and then I get scared. Like... I see the finish line, but then I think about everything after the finish line. From that point on, people expect a certain level of aptitude from you... and you have to maintain your success. It never really just ends at the finish line.

So I slow down... only a little so nobody notices at first. Then, miraculously, all the other runners speed past me. Eventually I completely stop, and I am still. The race is over. Someone else won.

Heh... it's fine. Really, it is. The spotlight is too much work. I mean... yeah, it would be fun every now and then, but could I really handle the pressure?

No... that's not me.

Honestly, I don't even know why I'm in this race to begin with. I've had little training, and quite frankly... I'm not sure if this is even the right race for me.

I guess this was just one of the few times in my life that I felt the trophy was something worth racing for though... So, what the hell, why not give it a shot? And... I think I could've won.

...But seriously, it's ok. I'm happy for the first place winner. Really I am. He worked hard for it, he really did! He deserves his trophy. I smile, and give a thumbs up. He smiles back and waves.

This is great. I'm such a good sport. Yeah. I really am. In the end, that's reward enough.

Yeah...

Four Little Things

I think the emphasis that we put on material possessions is one of our many downfalls in life. In reality, I believe there are only four things that we truly own, from cradle to grave: Our bodies, minds, hearts and souls.

As such, I've begun to use this ideal to create a sort of model to live by. In other words, if a want, desire or perceived need does not benefit me in one of these areas, or if it harms one of these four things, then I see it as unnecessary and possibly as something that should be avoided.

Since these four things are the only things we truly have, it is my philosophy that everything should be done in order to sharpen them. In doing so, I believe we aim for, and quite possibly reach our fullest potential.

Here are some questions to ask yourself:

Body (Physical Self)
-Am I eating healthy foods?
-Do I have an exercise plan?
-How often do I work out?
-What is my families history of diseases and disorders? How can I better protect myself from them?
-Do I have good hygiene?
-Do I practice safe sexual habits?
-How much sleep do I get?
-What bad habits could I cut to improve my health?

Mind (Mental Self)
-What are topics of interest to me? How can I improve in those fields?
-How often do I read?
-When and what about did I last engage someone in deep conversation?
-What's something I could do more research on, just for fun?
-Should I consider more schooling?
-Does my job stimulate and challenge me?
-How often do I do puzzles and brain teasers?
-Am I open to new ideas and information?

Heart (Emotional Self)
-Do I have good relationships with the people in my life?
-Do I socialize often?
-When was the last time I expressed gratitude for friends and loved ones?
-Am I in a relationship? Do I want a relationship?
-What are my troubles, and how can I alleviate them?
-Do I take time to appreciate and love myself?
-How can I increase positivity and reduce negativity in my life?
-Am I happy with my life? If not, how can I better it?

Soul (Spiritual Self)
-What do I really believe, regardless of the beliefs of others?
-Do I take time to pray/meditate?
-When was the last time I had fellowship with other people of similar beliefs?
-In what ways do I make this world a better place?
-Do I follow the "Golden Rule?"
-Have I taken time recently to appreciate the world and all it's beauty?
-Am I charitable with my time, love and resources? To both friends and strangers?
-Am I able to forgive the transgressions of others and not hold grudges?

I think many of these things are self-explanatory, but I also think it's very easy to neglect aspects of each of these too, which in my opinion, ultimately leads to unhappiness and a lack of a sense of fulfillment. Take time sometime to check and make sure you challenge yourself everyday! By doing so, you only improve yourself and the world around you. :)

Faberge Eggs

Like many children, while I was growing up, I had I suppose what you would call a typical american childhood. I was an only child, but I had friends, and I often went outside and played, sometimes into the late hours of the night.

One of the things I remember wanting when I was a child was the ability to grow up and be independent; I wanted to explore the big world and all it had to offer. While it all looked good on paper, I was often limited to my street by a lack of transportation and an 8:00 pm curfew.

I'm off to save the world!

My parents always told me "You'll have plenty of time to be an adult, but your only a kid once. Enjoy it now." Of course these words were lost on me... Why, there was adventure to be had! Friends to be made! People to be saved! A happily ever after to be had!

In addition to my romanticized ideology of the world, I was also spoon-fed the typical childhood tales of Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. My mother however received the blunt end of the latter when I jumped up and scared her when her hand was behind my pillow one evening, searching for the baby tooth I had put there.

What I should have done. Psssh, they would've grown back.

In my angsty teenage years,  I never understood exactly why we told children these blatant lies; why we let them live in this fantasy world that we helped them construct. That's not how the world works... why lie about it?

Innocence to me was a Faberge egg... something that looked beautiful, but was essentially useless and would only one day shatter into thousands of tiny shards. During my teenage years, I faced certain personal adversities that sent several tiny cracks throughout my own egg, leading to its inevitable demise. Don't we all though? I think we realize we're on the brink of losing something valuable, but there's nothing we can do to stop it. That's enough to make anyone bitter.

Seriously, what do you even do with this thing?

The fact of the matter is this: One day we all grow up. Nothing lasts forever, including childhood. But now that I've grown older, I look back on my younger years with a sense of wonder. The rose tinted glasses gone, I know that I'm not the only person in the world who has feelings that matter. My parents aren't the perfect superheroes I once thought they were. The law isn't always right, and a little chaos isn't always bad. Most importantly, life isn't fair.

What did it all mean? What was the purpose of it all? I can't tell you really. But, I think, much like Shakespeare said, "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." A lesson can be learned from any experience I suppose.

My Faberge egg lies shattered on the ground. I am no longer the starry eyed child I once was. But I was him once. We were all that starry eyed child once. I suppose the memories of childhood are something that, although no longer intact, are still beautiful and precious. So what do you choose to do? Will you throw the shards away in the trash, readjust your tie, pick up your briefcase and move on, or will leave them on the shelf, as a memory of something precious and beautiful that you once had?

Who knows... maybe if you leave a carrot out, the Easter Bunny will take it home and repair it for you some day.

Time Capsules

The other day, my mother and I were cleaning the dining room when we happened upon a basket. Inside of the basket was a bag which, to our surprise, contained this:

Now, I'm assuming that most of the general population reading this will recognize that this is an assortment of undeveloped film (Yes, for all you spring chicken's out there, back in my day we didn't always have digital cameras or camera phones!)

Finding this was like a discovering a treasure chest for me. Most of the capsules as well as the two disposable cameras are unmarked, leaving an air of mystery to what is on them.

Photography has always been something that has fascinated me. While there are many mediums which serve to capture human history, art, emotion and achievement, every other medium of expression, be it painting, music, writing or speech pales in comparison to photography.

I see photographs as something sacred. They are literally a moment in time and space that is immortalized on a piece of paper. There are details, memories, and emotions that can never be replicated again. Places thousands of miles away lie in your fingertips. The dead come back to life. Time stands still.

Do you remember when life was simpler?

Sometimes, I wonder what happens to the old photographs hidden away in a box in the attic of a house of someone who just died. Do people just come in and see no value to the photographs and throw them away? It's painful to think of those moments that were so precious to someone being casually discarded like they mean nothing.

We'll always have that summer...

Sometimes in the late of the night, I've fantasized about opening a photograph museum...  A place where people could bring old photographs without owners or homes, and we'd store them in albums on shelves. People from all walks of life could come in and enjoy the photographs for themselves, guessing just what the photographer and subjects were thinking... feeling... experiencing. They would breathe life into the past, and make their own memories.

Now a days, people snap pictures every 3 seconds and delete the ones they don't want without a second thought. It's part of our digital age to do so, and I myself am guilty of it. But there's something precious about physical photographs... they're so tangible and fragile; they must be protected.

My first goal will probably be to develop the following roll of film. It says "Bobby's B-day, 2-13-99", one day before my actual 11th birthday. This capsule contains memories from 14 years ago... will I even remember the moments it contains? Will I remember the child I call myself staring back at me... his thoughts and dreams? Maybe someday, you'll find his smiling face in a box in an attic somewhere after I'm long gone... if you do, please give that little boy a home.

Loneliness

Today, while surfing on Pinterest, someone posted the following image.

I love the concept of abstract writing, so since I haven't really written lately, I thought it would be fun to take on this little exercise.

Loneliness is a chameleon. It does not have one form, but many. The reason so many people hate loneliness is because it is something that is not well understood. It is a predator that looms, and strikes when we least expect. It is strong and merciless. Loneliness is the dim, pale moonlight shining on you as you lay alone in bed at night. It is standing in line at the grocery store, glossy eyed as the sounds of screaming children and beeping scanners surround you. It is in the eyes of those who will never understand.

Loneliness is the musty smell of an attic that's been opened for the first time in years. Dust dances in the sunbeams, landing on boxes and books covered in the webs of spiders long gone. Loneliness is invited to every party; it is the only one that stays after everyone has left. It is the snack at 2 AM in the darkness penetrated only by the blue light of a television.

Loneliness is lying on the bed, staring at the image of someone who will never be yours. It comes in countless colors; blue like the sky on a day you spent with a friend who has forgotten you, green like the grass of a place you'll never call home again; orange like the setting sun on a beach with only one set of footprints in the sand.

Loneliness is the twisted friend, both cruel and caring. It is the wind that caresses your hair on a chilly autumn day. It is the embrace of a warm blanket and a pillow that tirelessly collects tears. It is the echo of your name shouted in an empty house.

Loneliness is never lonely, because it is never alone.

I be up in the gym just workin' on my fitness

About roughly a month ago, my friend Tim and I got a membership to a local gym. I've really been trying to keep up with working out because, quite frankly, I am not at all pleased with where my body is at at the moment. I've not been pleased for some time with how I've looked.

One of the things I've struggled with since middle school was my weight. Granted, it could be a LOT worse, it really could be. I wouldn't even really say I'm fat, but rather just husky... it's like there's always been this little extra weight I couldn't get rid of. I've always wanted to have a rather slender body type. I don't have to be super muscular, just toned.

But, the genetic lottery decided I was going to be on the taller and beefier side, so there it is. I can't blame it all on genetics though. Only recently have I actually been able to look back on my lack of action and food choices to see the problem.

This is just an appetizer

One of the major negatives in my diet is pop. The blasted sugar water has been such a staple in my life that it's difficult to eliminate. I've stopped drinking pop before, but never as seriously as I have recently. I try to remember all of the negative things about pop, like that there's a shit ton of sugar in each serving, the calories are empty and only make me hungrier, pop dehydrates you, and Mt. Dew, my favorite soft drink, contains BVO (Brominated vegetable oil), which is banned in 100 countries for causing a wide range of problems.

HHHNNNNNGGGGG

As far as food goes, I eat out way too much. Like, the fact that the staff of many of the restaurants I go to ask where I am when my friends go without me is alarming. I need to focus more on eating healthier home cooked meals, and when I go out, making better choices about whats on the menu. I can fortunately say that alcohol is not really a problem for me, as I am strictly a social drinker. But... when I do drink, I tend to make sure that I go home elated.

ERRYBODY IN THE CLUB GETTIN TIPSAAAAYYY

Most importantly though, I've been trying to build muscle mass to assist me in burning fat. I actually enjoy working out at the gym quite a bit. It's become something of a hobby for me, and it helps that a few of my closest friends have an interest in it too. I never was really a sport player in school, so I think my optimism comes from me making up for lost time. Also, doing a push-up for the first time is pretty fucking exciting.

My biggest issue seems to be my cardio, or lack there-of. When working with my personal trainer, only a few simple exercises rendered me breathless. I still have a long way to go, and my goal is to shed 40 pounds, which would take me to a lovely 200.

Nonetheless, I do have to pat myself on the back. I've made quite a bit of progress. I've noticed I'm not out of breath as much as I was before, giving up on pop seems to have an overall positive effect on my being, and I am getting stronger. It takes time, but it's definitely worth it. Soon, I hope to have the body I always wanted. Maybe I'll just surprise myself and get something more!

Dream Diary

I suppose my blog can also serve as a place to house the chronicles of my visits to the land of sleep. Dreams are a very important part of my life; I see them as messages needing decoded from the depths of our minds.

Where are we going tonight?

I don't always dream, but when I do they are vivid, colorful and strange. Sometimes I think that my mind is just messing with me and there is no message, but maybe I'm just not seeing it. Either way, dreams are always a way to inspire creativity and they make a great story to tell others.

So last night, I had an odd dream that my relatives and I were in a house on the eastside for a family get-together. My mother managed to catch a type of frog that was apparently a problem in the area. They reproduced quickly and had the ability to transform. When I went outside, there was a fish on the ground, and I put it in a container of water to save it.

I probably should've realized something was up by this point.

From the fishes mouth came 4 more tiny fish. My mom informed me that the fish were the frogs in disguise. We walked away for a bit but then returned to see my uncle outside. He said he was going to use the small fish as bait, but that some had escaped the container. We couldn't see the fish/frogs anywhere though.

Later that day, it began to rain, and we heard lots of commotion in the backyard. There was a large swarm of frogs in a pile in the backyard. It was raining hard by now. On the street, I could see one of the frogs transform into the Hulk, and he began bashing into the surrounding houses. When I looked back to the pile, I saw three wolves. They lunged at us, and I used a lamp to beat one to the ground. Another one knocked me down and began snarling at me.

...and then I woke up.

Usually, I can find an interpretation for most of my dreams, but this ones a stumper. I'm going to chalk it up to just being insane and call it a day. Well, it's late and I got the writing bug out of me... Time for sleep... let's see where I go tonight.

Life In The Stacks

Working in a public library is an interesting experience. I've been at it for eight years now, and while I can honestly say that I love my job, it certainly has its interesting moments.

I don't know what it is, but much like a bartender, people seem to have this insatiable urge to talk to you about their private lives in great detail. It's like they don't have any other outlet to go to, so they spill their guts to you. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's strange, and sometimes it's just downright horrifying.

I make this face right before I tell them to immediately see their family doctor.

I genuinely enjoy getting to know my patrons on a personal level. I think it's important to build a personal rapport with people, and to take the time to learn their names and quirks. People like that. I've made many friends at my job and have become a recognized member in my community, and that's a good feeling. I don't mind listening either, I really don't, but there are just some things that are not just up for public consumption.

But then... I consider the alternatives. At our centennial celebration, one of our regular patrons stood up in front of the crowd and told everyone how our library, and one staff member in particular, actually saved his life and kept him going. He commended us on our kindness and told us we were like no other place he'd been. We gave him a reason to go on. As the crowd applauded, I could feel the tears welling in my eyes.

I had a patron at one time who was going through a rough patch. She is a regular, and she told me how there were times when she felt like she couldn't go on. I reminded her what a special person she was, and told her that if she couldn't muster the urge to go on, what kind of message did that send the people who loved her? That told them that they shouldn't go on either. The next day, she approached me and thanked me for talking. Did I save someone's life?

It's a strange feeling. Sometimes, I wonder what I'm really in this world... a lot of the time actually. But it's those small moments when you realize the power of one... how important your presence is. Every day, we do things that we don't realize effect others, both good and bad. Can a simple compliment change someones day? Could just one more cruel action actually break someone? It's hard enough knowing your own state let alone trying to figure out everyone else's.

Everyday Superheroes

Working in a library is more than just putting books away... it's a responsibility to the community. No, the library doesn't exist to live someones life, cook them dinner, and tuck them into bed. But it does exist to check out books, answer questions, smile... and every now and then listen.

Being INFP

Anybody who knows me knows that I am pretty much obsessed with the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, and I ritually use it as a basis of understanding the people in the world around me. I myself happen to be an INFP, aka "The Dreamer" or "The Idealist".

Recently, a close friend asked me if I liked being an INFP, to which I quickly responded "No". Quite honestly, being an INFP is often a painful and lonesome experience. I described it as putting your heart on an anvil daily, waiting for people standing in a line to come smash it only for you to pick up the remnants, reassemble them into a heart again, and prepare for the morning, where more people stand with eager hammers. An exaggeration perhaps, but nonetheless relevant.

I'm just a special snowflake.

I think that the most frustrating aspect of being INFP is the ridiculously high standards that you hold others to as the byproduct of the even higher standards you hold for yourself. You try to be as caring and loving as possible, but when it comes to people, INFP's tend to go the extra mile, and when others don't, you're left disillusioned and hurt. Why can't people feel the things I do at the intensity I do?

I realize all of this makes me sound like a victim, which is not my intent. We all have our weaknesses, but being an INFP in and of itself feels like a weakness. It's hard to say no, it's hard to criticize others, it's even harder to take criticism (real or imagined), it's hard to be practical in the world and deal with harsh realities when you are always living in a dreamy daze.

If nothing else, it's an interesting experience and I feel it has helped me be a unique individual who sees the world in a different light. I've met a cornucopia of fascinating people along the way, and am blessed to have them in my life. I've learned so much from the people around me. I suppose an open mind and gentle heart are some of the benefits of being an INFP... heh, see it's not all bad!

You have no idea.

I suppose I should be happy with the way I am. Still... there's a part of me that dreams about what it would be like to see this world through another pair of eyes. I suppose that's just a part of being INFP.

First Post!

Hello all, I've decided to start my own blog. I really enjoy writing so I figured this may be a way for me to have a creative outlet. Some of you may know me, and some of you may not, but perhaps this will also be a way to learn, share my experience, and gain perspective from you too. So stay tuned, I promise I'll try to be super motivated and post a lot. :)