Undulant Rave: The Charming Hypocrisy of Effortless Responsible Drinking

I’ll tell you something personal about me…

I like beer a lot, and I’ve never been drunk, not even once.

I’ve come close-ish. I’ve been buzzed.

I’ve gotten slouchy. I’ve almost gotten wobbly.

I definitely wouldn’t drive after a full can. No sir.

I do it for the taste. Which can really depend a lot upon what you’re eating, or how much sweetness you’ve just ingested.

For me, beer is really kind of like tea. Or maybe like a reverse for coffee.

Beer can be relaxing, it can really ease me up.

But after a glass, I don’t get any benefits. I don’t feel anguish washing away.

With the right timing, with the right sweet pairings, beer can really be amazing.

But for some reason, I get giddy when I drink it.

When I have it, I think about what I’ve been taught to see beer as.

How it is called so likely

to drag people into awful habits and dangerous situations.

How they are condemned

just for wanting a little beer because of what it only might do,

and not even for that person drinking it.

I think about that and say, isn’t it awesome how they wrong they were, since I’m basically immune to alcoholism?

And yet, at the same time, rather bizarrely, I am….validating what those people say about liquor as a whole, by celebrating such a consumable.

I sip the can or bottle, and as the breadlike concoction satisfies me, I feel,

isn’t it cool how something so heinous gives me joy?

I….I am not….proud of how I feel about my drinking.

No, I’m not guilty about doing it, but I do feel rather guilty about being proud of it.

I think it’s actually kind of worthy of contempt, how we human beings can…..do something responsibly, tastefully, competently, and still get…..a kind of mischievous joy out of it,

as if we are sneaky thieves rewriting the human condition, when being very civil, while being what we are called is mature.

I think it’s really kind of frustrating how anyone can take so much pleasure out of doing some thing without much effort (in this case, never getting drunk),

and consider it an impressive thing….only because you know that it’s a struggle for so many other people.

I feel cool about drinking because I know it leads so many to ruin. How awkward.

Well, anyway, it isn’t like any philosopher is gonna have the power to change the rules on drinking at this point.

We could change humanity at a fundamental level, and there’d still be cans in the fridge.

Personally, I feel the most sympathy for the guy who just wants to

drink some beer on his stoop. If I had a stoop, I’d definitely sip some Bud Lights on it

after brushing my teeth.

Of course, somewhere down the line, someone will destroy themselves

given the chance to drink in public.

And someone somewhere will feel woe that it was

ever legal to sell or make such a creation. And that prohibition never really worked.

(never mind that fermentation has everything to do with civilization)

And those people will know that someone somewhere will love the crap out of alcohol

without really damaging themselves or anyone they love.

And it will frustrate them forlornly.

But to you, that person feeling anger at those

grasping for short pleasures,

even if one person defies

what it might do to those who seize it,

and for you, on the other side,

that person brooding in rage at those

trying to deny them what they love,

even if such a thing becomes

the follies of the reckless far from you,

yes, it’s for you,

for both of you, that I do write.

That I do fight.

I want to be the new balance injected into

the same old little giant conflicts.

Your undulate with love and hate,

with agreeableness and rebelliousness.

You can feel the harmless pettiness of your joys,

and the magnificent hazards of your dreams.

You are a creature who can touch contrast. You are a mere one being who reaches far and wide

just by being alive.

You drink from the fountains of existence,

intoxicated but also diligent.

You are not the type of disgraceful hustler

that other people say you are. But neither are those you accuse

of that kind of knavery.

Or rather, there is something you can’t seem to breach,

that would really explain your wry self love, your even-tempered scorn for others.

I am an average tempered person. The things that make me special are

things that nobody lacks. I am just someone

who reacts to what he takes in. Who searches not just for pleasure and for meaning,

but the right kind sense of connection to everything outside me,

and to find a sense of purpose that can

help me embody what kindness may exist somewhere in the cosmos.

Because I am special, because there’s something I want to do.

I will do it, next time. I’ll write something I think can change the world,

just by placing it into the hands of any adult who’s aching for something to be birthed out of the internet.

I seek to crack open the ceiling of human closeness, to put a fancy seal upon resentment.

Get out your favorite drink. We’re opening the floodgates.

Culture’s finale, on the information superhighway.

NEXT TIME: COMMANDER L1 DOUBLEEDGE CLEAVES THE WORLD IN HALF AND SEWS IT BACK TOGETHER

ONE SENTENCE TO NUDGE THE WORLD TOWARDS

HOW GOOD YOU THINK YOU ARE



Undulant Rave: Why Bullying Feels Beautiful And Is Largely Unstoppable

You’ll find people tell you that people, students, kids, whoever,

bully each other, do that bullying thing,

because of their insecurities.

Because of how they’ve been treated poorly.

Yeah, but it still hasn’t gone away. Bullying is still there, it’s ADORED by so many of us.

You didn’t realize this. You know this, you didn’t articulate it.

I am the philosopher who will articulate why bullying feels beautiful, why it has been unstoppable.

Bullying feels so wonderfully good because…….it allows a person to experience catharsis and relief for how much true human depth and energy they put into navigating the complex awfulness they must face from other people.

And this happens because, most typically, the victim is someone who exhibits the type of traits that make it clear…..they would not survive or thrive very long in the sort of life of the perpetrator.

The bully has complex relationships with their parents. The bully has strange relationships with friends. The bully has personal goals that require exorbitant amounts of passion to even have a chance at coming out on top.

The bullied expects the type of innocence and decency we are taught to admire when we are just past babyhood. The bullied has simple friendships that mend fairly easily after a conflict. The bullied just wants to do the thing they find fun.

Inside the heart of a bully is the blinding, undulating passion of sunlight. And it’s too much to take for its maker.

But when that light is cast harshly upon someone who can barely handle it, in a state of mere wanton assertiveness,

the joy injects itself into the anguish of someone who must struggle to find the fulfillment and the respect which they crave.

Bullying says, I can control you with so little effort, that I feel better

about having such very strong burdens to carry.

I can come closer to uplifting myself if I can bring you down with so little of my power.

The bully beams out,

“I can become more like what it means for anyone

to spread their little greatness into everywhere.”

Bullying feels like comforting rays of light that allow you to push onward.

That’s why you can’t tame it, no matter how much you despise it.

I have emulated bullies in a way that I find shameful,

and yet, I am somewhat glad that I was flawed enough to try that.

When you bully someone, you keep them from even understanding what’s actually wrong with them.

Would you feel great if you were spared your own great struggles?

Maybe bullying comes from a desire to see all this mischievous maturity we shove upon each other just get wiped away.

Maybe we wish to figure out how to not be the beautifully dancing exceptions to

“just be nice and sweet”.

Maybe the emotional revolution begins with me.

The blog’s right freaking here.


Undulant Rave: The Meaning of Mother****er

I’ve heard that “mother fucker” is just a thing you call someone.

I’ve heard a of a lot of similar words- they’re insults with an awkward positive energy.

Because I am a philosopher and thought about this kind of slang for 10 years, I’ll tell you what I think a motherfucker is.

A mother fucker is not someone who gets more than what they deserve. Well, that’s part of it.

A mother fucker achieves things by abiding by standards of common decency and considerate personal advancement, but betrays them in a way that’s hard to not find likeable, that’s easy to wish to emulate, but never in a way you’d sincerely try to match.

A motherfucker makes your cheeks clench in bizarre fondness. A motherfucker pulls at what it means to be a good person, but not in the gentle way that makes you feel so very joyful, as you do when making your own complex steps through life.

A motherfucker represents how connected and disconnected everything is, in a way that brings you frustrating kinds of comfort. A mother fucker is what makes your heart sing with wry undulations contemplating the nature of deservingness.

You wouldn’t want nobody to be a motherfucker. But you’d certainly like to stop them at their motherfucker junctures. To change their choices in mild revenge, in a chance at slightly rewriting the nature of humankind. But it’s hard to stop a mother fucker, and you’re likely already very fond of mother fuckers in your life and in the media and history, mother fuckers that done so much mother fucking motherfuckery practically just for you.

What a person you’d call a mother fucking mother fucker is the type of mischievous maturity that makes you feel the universe is expanding, but in a way you find disappointing. So you ache for something better, filled with savory eagerness, never conceding to that strange fondness, carrying it, undulating with it.

Can we just be mother fuckers without fucking over each other? Yeah, that’s the goal. That’s always been the goal, motherfucker. Apologies to PBS.

Undulant Rave: Vegans Explained Really Quick

Hey, vegans, I’ve got a message for ya. And uh, anyone who knows about you.

People like becoming vegan not because it’s shockingly easy, nor because it’s rewarding in its challenge.

Nah, it’s because it varies from hard as fuck to easy as fuck as you’re trying to achieve it. And it just keeps wavering, but you end up in a place that validates the beautiful work of managing difficulty and lack of difficulty grinding against each other.

And yes, your choice of dieting is a small thing, a huge thing, an undulantly lovely thing. So small, so big, such a statement, such a wish for a future movement.

But here’s my opinion on you. You could be a lot more likeable if you figured out your joy and anger. I mean, look at the plant-based movement. That’s gentle as hell, am I right?
Not even trying to get people to commit to anything. If you’re really gonna convert us all, maybe it requires a new approach. Maybe there’s something you can discard.

Maybe mischievous maturity is your strength and your big flaw, and there’s a way to tune your waves a bit.

If you wanna know more about what I’m saying, well, the blog’s right here.

Original Comparisons: Why trying to Enjoy Being Outside is like attempting to Become a Better Person [I Finally Feel Content]

There’s a rather plain and flat old park outside of where I live.

I’ve gone there very often. To do typical things.

You know what I do there, you know what you do in such a place.

You think about your life, you ponder what to do.

You imagine future conflicts, you savor joys to come.

You try to feel immersed, looking at the trees.

You attempt to feel connectedness with nature.

And usually, it just kind of works, but you do it anyway.

What could be more universal,
then trying to feel somehow, and pleasantly, bonded to the space around you?

What could we commend more,
than trying to envision a better you to come?

When we try and love just going out for a nice walk,
that contains the humble boldness of trying to really grow.

When we try to gain dominion over social situations,

that is so much like the wish to be glad
that you can you can look up at the sky.

Such wonderful tenderness, such sweet boldness.
Aching for some closeness to goodness
that may or may not become part of you,
how could anything be more beautiful?

The undulations of “this is for me, this is for the world”.
The wavering of “I am in a time and place, there is so much more than me and this”

Yes, you are forged by those such fires.
You are the strongest creature.
And you know, so is everyone else.
But other people aren’t the version of strong that you admire.

They mock the ache to be somehow very nice,
by winding up apparently cruel.
They denigrate the quaintness and infinity of possibility in life,
by leaning towards self-advancement rather than appreciation for everything.

That is what you feel.
That is what we all feel.
That is how we are.
That is how we must be.

We are not meant to be as plainly giving to each other
as the self-help books tell you to be.

We aren’t destined to always smile
at the elegance of trees within the breeze.

This is what you are, isn’t it?
I know it’s what I am.

We enter heated moments where we feel like magma,
we cool off toward stretches where we feel like stone.

What you is are metamorphic.

A being whose structure is based upon the undulations you experienced, that were very linked to the fluctuations in the bedrock of space and time and nature and society,
and your shape will affect those pulsations in the earth.

So the next time someone makes you cry with inspiration,
know that they could cause an earthquake with their form of niceness.
And the next time anyone makes you burn with rage,
know that it’s the undulant compression of the world in which they shaped themselves.

The key to humanity becoming as great as we think we are,
is being able to see each other’s undulations.
To see what makes us so elegantly unsure of our goodness.
It’s the only way for us to stop wanting to insult each other.

It’s what you already do to try and relate to others.
It’s the force we’ve already been trying to reign in.
We’ve made such an amusing showtime out of this.
We have always tempted for someone to stop all the indignity.

Maybe that type of person can be encouraged by me.

No more “for love and justice”, “for the end of hate and violence.”
Way more “for the proper cooling of the burning kindness”.
We all have a meteor to catch.

I won’t plea anymore. This here’s my manifesto.

https://thefoundemotion.wordpress.com/2020/07/06/my-introduction-invoke-yourself-a-human-manifesto-0-1/













Original Comparisons: Why Being Crappy at RPGs is like Having No Dating Skills

You played Pokemon or something, when you were younger.

You gave your Charizard all Fire moves, or something else like that.

It worked, it felt right. Until it really didn’t.

But you didn’t want to experiment. You felt so very secure, even though it felt somewhat childish.

You grew up and survived your adolescence. You tried to live the dating experience. But you projected nothing that enticed.

But you also got really good at turn-based games a few years after childhood. You savored the flow of digital battles. Not really hard when you wanted to find something that made you feel like a genius.

And you eventually found your way to become attractable a few years into adulthood. You somehow found a way to exude a sense of sensual worthiness. Not being all too hard considering how heavy interpersonal things had gotten previous.

I’m going to explain two things within a single slash within this post.

The key to understanding what makes these turn-based power-grasping games so very exciting,

and how it is you can begin to have your romantic ego actually start to feel its thriving,

is not merely about coming closer to fulfilling your confidence, nor is it about outplaying another person so you can get a satisfaction.

What makes them very similar is how our emotions waver in weight in those experiences, and that coming out on top is a matter of mastering the other’s feelings.

Coming close to a tabletop victory, it comes far and back to you in so very many ways. Only by having a passion for those very undulations
can you outwit your foes if they are also high skill players.

It’s inside of these board-game sort of contests that we shout with triumph and can laugh at our own follies.

Ready to play our favorite of these games, we feel our hearts endeared by the strange magnetisms of failure and success.

Aching very much for someone to find you a handsome sort of creature, worth embracing,
the possibility of moving that way does enter the heart of the other party, should you be seen as basely charming.

But, if their interests aren’t so very humbly immediate,
as it is for one half of humanity, usually, but surely possibly for anyone,

they will only be enthralled by you
if you can come off as though

they matter very meagerly, and humbly,
while also having potential to be the one you love supremely.

You must drive that person mad with undulations of “I’m admired more than any beauty, I’m only endeared as much as a cashier”.

So many people are offended
when internet superstars play those great games so very poorly,
and complain about what makes those titles seem unworthy.

So many, perhaps one half of humanity most, gets livid,
when someone aches and moans that they have never been seen as vaguely sexy.

But how can you blame the raging streamer or the eternal virgin so severely,
when this world has not the tools to describe what brings one closer to
intimate winning, or winning intimacy?

The word I have is “undulant”.

Learn to see that such popular gamers still crave a wavering toward victory,
just not in all the forms that you find nice and rewarding.
Open your hand, and say, toward that gaming streamer,
you already love gliding your way through other types of video game frustrations,
though typically where failure and success are made more obvious,
and to please give a chance to taking time to rebuild an approach
to more elusive gameplay systems that don’t reward so immediately,
because there is a good reason that millions became fanboys.

If you are fond of someone who is quite inept at managing your flirty space,
going so far as to become unpleasant when projecting erotic sorts of hopes,
maybe you can help them become more like what it is you find exciting.
Show them this dating interaction thingamajig
is a game about navigating possibilities,
that they, the other, do have worth, but that your own whims need more uncanny winds
to provide such sweet unlocking
that can lead to so much fondling.
Let them know that it’s the unsolidness of your criteria
which is what a prospect
should try to start touching with their will,
and they might start to push your intimate buttons as you’d hoped.
Let them understand that moving close to cuddling
is all about the undulations of the weight of your encounter, so bafflingly light and heavy.

For the sake of the modern virgin and everyone else.

If I have engaged you, please read my manifesto.

https://thefoundemotion.wordpress.com/2020/07/06/my-introduction-invoke-yourself-a-human-manifesto-0-1/





Original Comparisons: Why ENDORSING the Disowning of your Adult Child Makes You Seriously No Better Than a Clown

I’m going to try to keep this one brief.

Because it involves someone I know who committed suicide.

I’m not going to get fancy.

Because you aren’t worth it.

She was someone who only wanted to live a normal American life.

She wanted still to have a connection with her family.

I didn’t know her personally, but I could tell, she was always searching for a decent substitute.

And in her unusual urban life, she tried to a lot of worthwhile things.

Eventually, the pain and the rage and the sorrow and love all came to fruition, she jumped off of the roof.

And her parents, well, they said they’d never recover. And I could hardly blame them for that.

But then, when the articles were posted online, someone in the comments had the audacity to say, so very adamantly, and joyfully,

that the type of lifestyle, the type of community, which would encourage a young woman to not be able to see her baby photos,

did indeed raise many good people. And this person said that with such a tone, it was such a very proud one.

I couldn’t stand anyone from anywhere saying such a thing with that kind of zeal.

But I could tell this fellow knew exactly how much rage people might feel when hearing that voice.

I genuinely believe that “mischievous maturity” is the best thing to call it. But I’ve already explained what that is in an earlier post.

But I feel like making a judgment.

If someone kills themselves, due to being disowned, simply for desiring not the type of BONDAGE that most people would be sent to JAIL for 30 years for causing,

and someone CRITICIZES that community, hoping for it to change,

and the first impulse of yours

is to DEFEND them,

THEN

you

are not scum, no, you’re not.

You aren’t the worst kind of person there is.

You aren’t lacking in any common decency.

You shouldn’t let yourself be loathed.

BUT

YOU

ARE NOT

MORE DIGNIFIED

THAN A CLOWN.

Why? It’s simple, really.

Because a clown turns themselves into comedy.

And my theory of comedy is twofold.

The first is that humor is what we feel

when dignity suddenly glides against being only kind of real.

It’s a relief against trying to be dignified, without invalidating dignity itself.

The other is that comedy is when

something is perfectly inappropriate, or inappropriately perfect.

We laugh because something is exquisitely apt, while also being ridiculously out of place.

Clowns, like humor itself, are an affectionate mockery of trying to be a dignified person.

And this is how they earn their bread, with oh so many pies to the face.

You who defends the type of thing that is oh so very likely to make a free spirited young American want very much to die,

you are not like a clown in the traditional sense, the “acting silly” sense, the “everything is ridiculous” sense, the “I don’t care what happens to me” sense”.

No, you’re like a clown, because

you smile all the way through doing something you know is heavily flawed.

You think the flaws of your lifestyle, the fallout of your communities’ inwardly placed wrath, the modest zeal of dressing up like it isn’t a world with t-shirts and jeans,

like that’s all beautifully, intricately, wonderfully, worth the price of a truly elegant and proper lifestyle.

And you wouldn’t be wrong about that. You’re not a bunch of idiots, no sir.

But clowns, those incredible performers, they want to make people smile.

Clowns want to earn a living massaging our obsession with being a well-composed human being. Clowns want to provide us relief from the pains of being human. Sometimes they can even make us cry, and in a bizarre way, make us feel gloom and sorrow that cleanses that of our very selves.

And yet, unfortunately, we seem to mock clowns for trying to do that. We often portray them as genuinely not giving a shit about anything, as totally out of touch with how to make meaningful commentary on humanity, and sometimes as absolutely malicious creatures who want to kill us gradually by the hundreds.

That stereotype of sheer amused serenity in colorful murder,

no matter how civil you might be,

that resembles you more than your local circus performer.

You, the person who has the gall to say,

“we’re so GOOD to each other”,

you are the real Joker.

It can be hard to see who’s on the right side of history sometimes,

but it certainly isn’t anyone who lives the way you do.

Or do you not care about history even a little bit?

It’s obvious, so obvious, that freedom, basic modern “go outside and try to carve your own way” freedom

cannot always be great for every individual that happens to be born. You could even blame THAT as the culprit for that suicide.

You could blame the foundation of a modern nation’s essence as what killed her. That imperfect urge for some kind of freedom. You’re allowed to despise it, to see yourselves as far above it.

You are also allowed to say she was simply mentally ill. That she was the type of person bound for self-destruction no matter what was happening in her life, in spite of her apparent utter lack of malice.

But at the very least, if you’re going to go online and start boasting in the face a suicide of your very brethren, then at the very least….

I want you to hear me out, and anyone who who really feels above letting their families live like it’s CURRENT YEAR.

The sheer depth of your desire is real.
The overwhelming energy inside your pride is real.
The validity of your passion to defend your way of living, your ideals and dreams, that isn’t bogus, you’re not a creep, you’re not.

But you think you’re worth congratulating for your audacity, and I do not.

And my argument doesn’t come from an intellectually vapid place.

It doesn’t come from rage at what I perceive happens in a whichever highly extended clan.

It doesn’t come from merely loving the American ideal of not forcing a young woman to suck up to sickening demands of the sexual and motherhood variety

just to remain part of her immediate family,

and generally not being grossed out by the dream of freedom.

All of this doesn’t come from simple frustration about what I see in the news.

What this comes from is my own personal growth. From my own journey and where it got me.

I know, that’s a bit cliche, but hear me out, citizen of internet.

I was a person who had an idea in my head about how loving I was, how I sophisticated I was, how kind I was, how balanced I was, how cool I was, how I nice I was, and fell very short of my own personal image, quite severely. I put all my depth in figuring out how to be, far more than I ever even owned, and it still wasn’t enough to establish my redemption.

I found NOTHING in this world that could articulate my intricate awfulness. I was not any stereotype of inconsiderate or selfish, not at all. I fit labels that didn’t exist- that is why I’ve come up with all of this.

I was a certain type of complexly undignified creature, like humanity itself.

But eventually, I was able to grow enough,so that I could bring comfort to and get comfort from the highly evolved.

I was not as great as I thought I was.

But eventually, I was able to become the opposite of a disgrace
to anyone who could help see what greatness I did have, and great I was.

I filtered something despicable from myself, something which I might have kept without getting fairly lucky and from having lofty dreams of BEING NICE to people.

And in my humble opinion, in my metaphysical stance,
especially after going back and reading what she posted,
especially after seeing how well she hid her pains,
just from what I see as a human who only met her a few times,
that this woman was not a stain upon this world,
even as she became a mess upon the sidewalk.

I think she had the sweetness that this world really needs more of.

I think you’re as close to legally allowed atrocities.

It has its place in another time before us.

We as a nation are trying to find out what freedom should actually be. People all over the world dream about us finding the right way to be free.

But you don’t even respect that. You really don’t admire that.

Even as the internet lets you say what you want. Talk to whom you want. See what you want, love what you want. The internet is beautifully imperfect freedom, an incredible step forward, one too huge to not try and weave more decency from.

Everyone’s trying to lean toward the future in some way, hoping for us to evolve, and you’re just sitting there, ready to shun any neighbor coming close to defying your expectations, far, far into the dirt.

Profound and deep adherence to what the people before you told you should be, yes, that is something this world needs. But at that extreme, this world couldn’t even operate.

There wouldn’t be technology, there wouldn’t be modern medicine, there wouldn’t be the media, there wouldn’t be an internet for you to post on.

But that’s what makes you smile, isn’t it?

That moment when you feel a little bit like a clown.

The ultimate pie upon one’s face.

“Who cares if I would never allow the internet to exist, I’m still gonna use it to shun it.”

Being completely and neatly imperfect in your ways of being nice.

That, my friend, is not high dignity. That is mischievous maturity.

And it’s the strongest emotion there is. It’s the emotion we never gave a name.

It’s the emotion upon which wars are waged.

You’re undulating right now.

Your energies are rising and falling, etching upon your body into solid form.

You can feel that everything is connected, and everything is not connected,
depending on what’s so, depending on what happens to happen.

You feel that one thing is everything, and that one thing is the least of things. And as you think and feel you carve the grooves of you into much time and space, as you elegantly waver the weight.

Whether or not you agree with me, what you have is undulance.

I am giving names to that emotion you feel right now if you are mad at me for insisting clowns are not beneath you, that they are actually above you. Or vexxed at me for putting this much effort into trying to do good by the despair of someone who was simply an acquaintance. There is a way to dissect that irritating wistful wish to make some justice.

This girl was quite spectacular, and she deserved far better.

If you see her objections to you as a joke,

that does nothing to her dignity.

There was so much pain behind her smile.

And so much joy in yours that’s practically begging to wear off.

It’s my dream that by changing the way those who desire some kind of modernity treat each other,

that anyone as far in the past as you might just change naturally,

due to no one giving you validation anymore for this serene brutality on one’s family.

No one will smile at the acts you take you think are oh so badass.

If I have endeared you, provoked you, engaged you, or inflamed you, please read my 10-piece manifesto.

If you are to excuse disgracefulness, then know your plasmatic energy.

It’s all for the dream of “don’t fuck with people” to become reality.

https://thefoundemotion.wordpress.com/2020/07/06/my-introduction-invoke-yourself-a-human-manifesto-0-1/

I really hope I’ve done my best.














Original Comparisons: Why Celebrities are (un)like Real Heroes

I’m here to make a statement.

I open up my throat and sing.

I’m here to make you undulate.

Agreeing with me and not, you rise and fall, and stop at a place.

You embody wavering, doing so without movement.

You undulant being. Your undulant feeling.

I open up my veins and screech.

Celebrities are the reverse of sacrifice.

The wealthy are the most unlike those dying on the battlefields.

And yet they are not too different. No, they are not opposites.

Without extreme sacrifice, utter devotion to an essential need, ordinary people cannot be.

Without ordinary people, daydreaming of extravagance, they could not become the tabloid idols.

The most hardened of soldiers still have the excessive pride of those who do big business.

Those college dropout music masters still have the heavy ethic of students who have fully dove into the academic woes.

Can’t you see, it’s all the same, while also being utterly not?

It’s the undulating senses of purpose and result, of indulgence and sacrifice, that we all share, but we do not share them the same way, but in that variance, we are the same.

We undulate. The world, it undulates. Based upon how you see it, based upon what happens to it.

Irritating ultra-billionaires are never too far from those who risk their hides every single day. They breathe with similar lightness in their goals. Softness that affects lives, smallness that may save them.

You feel, to people you are upset with, that yes, we are alike, in how we dance through our lives, in how we navigate the bullshit of trying to be nice, but you tell them you are not alike in ways that may validate their digust in any way. We do have different flaws, perhaps, but not the kind you claim, definitely not flaws that are worthy of the zeal you show when trying to correct them or call them out.

Can you feel the undulations that you hate? The undulations that you love? The undulations that make you laugh, or those that simply leave you quite impressed?

Everything is connected and not connected, to infinite degrees. And this is what lies at the center of our strongest emotion. This is the key to understanding the raw makeup of all the tender bickering that you see on the internet.

Every time someone moans and groans about an incident and puts the blame on what group that person belonged to or associated with. Or perhaps, when anyone gushes with ecstasy about the kind accomplishments of any such individual who belonged to some category. What is happening in that situation is something I can only call “the undulance.”

They know they are being somewhat excessive. They know that being a category of person can indeed have no impact on what that person is bound to do. But here’s what they are condemning, or what they are praising, it’s that person’s inner undulations. Those moments where they move away from a certain type of approach to trying to be kind and decent, which are fairly likely to result in actions that could be called heinous or objectionable.

Can you feel it now? Do you understand mature affection? Do you understand the most unstoppable rage? Those emotions based upon undulation. They are feelings based upon the feelings that things are very linked together and very not bound to each other. Can you feel the energy moving across the endless grid of space? Emotions are not what you’ve been taught.

When a person takes a drastic action, they feel, I am going beyond my own expectations. I am going against what is typically right, but this is a situation separate from everything else. And yet, it is connected to everything else, so I have to do something meaningful. In order to change the meaning of the world. But such can never really be done, but no thing done is ever really without weight. So the desire rises again, drafted upward by the sheer lack of meaning in desire. And some action may be taken, or it may not be taken, but to be sure that person will indeed have undulations.

Whether it’s the hobbies of the ultra-rich or their business decisions, the sheer bravery of real heroes, or their dreams of being treated as relevant, no one can be said to be completely heroic or completely vain. This is why humans beings get so upset with each other. They know that no one entirely touches those ideals of good or evil, but they undulate with the energy of both noble and vile seeming ambitions. This is why people you consider radical feel so utterly balanced. This is how people you consider lazy or uninteresting actually possess amazing amounts of emotional energy.

You think people undulate less than you. You think some undulate more than you. Some act as though they are contributing meaningfully to mankind and you resent them because you don’t disagree that they could be commendably unique. Some are very humble about what they’ve done with their little lives, and you love the fuck out of them because you do agree they aren’t exactly as dignified as a person can be.

You’re empathy’s on fire when you’re in an adult form of rage. Your scorn for other humans is indeed ablaze when you want to cry out in affection.

The hard majority of people feel oh so very balanced. This is why people who belong together or are traditionally lumped together may feel so very balanced despite frustrations with what they tend to be or how society perceives them. Because they feel as a dot on a grid, completely tiny and exquisite, completely divisibly gigantic, able to touch all that’s outside of it, okay with not being able to reach into it exactly as they wished. They, or rather, you, are a pathetic superstar, a perfect hero, a perfect superstar, a pathetic hero. All four of which could be disgusting or endearing in their own particular ways.

Wake up, my friend. This is why you seek out complex characters, this is how you come to find sophisticated love. This is is why you’re mad online, this is why you get relief from our sweet internet. Why you log on and such, ready for a certain kind of consistently undulating energy from how it touches you. The internet represents everything because of how it’s completely connecting you and forming barriers on you. To come closer to another person means to remove barriers and develop entanglements with other people. When you are on the internet, that is such a very human thing to do. As you make that next post, remember, you become like a celebrity, you become like a lone hero. You become so many things, but most of all, you become very big and very small. The internet is a comforting place between strength and weakness. Mainly because it undulates in a way that we expect, and yet shows us so many things we would never expect. The internet is as amazing and as plain as it gets, very much like something we could accuse of life itself.

I desire the admiration of others, and to give up all my energy. But in that quest, I seek to make what makes me worthy of anything far more commonplace, and to be able to reclaim that energy and use it well. But that’s all anyone’s ever done, isn’t it? My goal is for us to thread the needle of being pretty good to anyone we meet, or try my very hardest to do right by such a wish.

If I have engaged you, then read my manifesto.

https://thefoundemotion.wordpress.com/2020/07/06/my-introduction-invoke-yourself-a-human-manifesto-0-1/

Original Comparisons: Why Frustrating Game Design is like a Gift Card

Let me ask you another thing, have you ever been frustrated or perhaps endeared by the lack of options you wish you had in a video game? I have heard many people say that not having certain accommodations to make things easier, or for certain strategies to be be allowed, guided them into enjoying the game a whole lot more than they would have otherwise. And yet lots of people may berate such people for insisting the game devs didn’t give more options, more leniency, or more challenge, more customization. What do you think is at the heart of this, half the gamers losing their shit over their wishes about what could have been an improvement, the other half feeling so good about themselves for having been limited in their experiences?

Perhaps this comparison will enlighten you…..compare frustrating game design to a gift card. A gift card feels very different from a cash present. But why is this, when the value is just about the same? Because, a gift card is a person saying, I will take you to a place, I will create an experience for you. I will allow you to bring yourself to an experience of my choosing. I will put an interesting limitation on your choices so that some special delight of a purchase of a good or service might happen to you. Something that feels as though it couldn’t have happened without my helping you. Like a weird marriage of intention and effect being both very constrictive and liberating.

You hear people praise other people for constraining their choices and limiting their experiences. And it’s so upsetting, except it isn’t, because that’s something we all do. We bind other people when we do anything, we create possibility for them when we do anything. It’s quite the interesting phenomenon, isn’t it? Almost as though we are being pulled from different places within the universe, like magnetism outside of us is competing in a steady, wave-like dance. I suppose you can call this undulations. Which cause your very will to undulate.

People who say kind things about frustrating design choices within a game or anything else, they have felt themselves ease off and rise again inside that love. They have undulated, and that it why it is so hard to change them. Their experiences, so small and meaningless, so very far-reaching and relevant, feel as though they waver into eternity. And thereby they are drawn to speak about it on the internet. They know not whether what they say will change another person’s appreciation for their favorite product, or whether they are just trying to validate their own emotions by casting them into the cyberspace. Inside that undulation, we roar in vanity across the cosmos.

We, doing something as strangely awful as defending features that we love being pulled from us, feel absolutely beautiful. And you wouldn’t be wrong. But you undulate in a way that I find somewhat worth appreciating less. I personally prefer being able to play the way I already did. Fortunately I have found the game of deconstructing what makes you feel so elegant, what allows you to feel like a master. Let that be my gift.

If I have engaged you, then read my manifesto.

https://thefoundemotion.wordpress.com/2020/07/06/my-introduction-invoke-yourself-a-human-manifesto-0-1/

Original Comparisons: Why Rhyming is Like The First Jacket of Autumn

Let me ask you something, perhaps you can figure it out.

I’ve created a lot of these, perhaps you can do it yourself now.

Wearing new clothing at the beginning of a season…

two words having the same sound, aligned somehow in meter?

Why oh why could these things be similar?

I’ll give you the answer.

Because in both of these cases, the past and the present are laid upon one another.

In both cases, it’s very refreshing, very enthralling.

The feel of wearing clothes anew, like before, taking me back to a previous season, becoming part of the beauty of the future.

The feel of words that neatly match, like the present somehow catching the past.

A lovely union, but never quite for either.

The feel of the present is based upon what was.

Of course there are unpleasant times to have a jacket on.
Of course there are rhymes that just don’t work at all for anyone.

Maybe it’s inside that space that you can figure out how to be kinder.
Maybe this is the way for us to not be mediocre.

If I have engaged you, please read my manifesto.

https://thefoundemotion.wordpress.com/2020/07/06/my-introduction-invoke-yourself-a-human-manifesto-0-1/