brewery33

An awkward moment

Residents of undeveloped nations would scoff at my personal journey. The fact that I am at such an odds with myself, that the focus of my life at this point is to regain a focus, is a metaphor of excess for the gluttony that has entangled the world’s perception of our “culture”. I ridicule myself for having such a paltry outlook. People are dying from disease, famine and violence and I am sitting here pretty in my upper middle class tax bracket with a loving wife, cute daughter, expensive PC’s (that’s right multiple computers), newish car, and job (yes I even have a job) that allows me flexibility in my personal endeavors (blogging, civic involvement, philanthropy). What the fuck do I have to complain about? I feel like such a pussy and a dick at the same time for even exercising my mental ineptitude as a real problem.

Whether you agree with my judgment of myself, or care to add to the findings, I could really give a flying you know what. My goal is focus and innovation. Without imagination, innovation is impossible. In order to find my wayward imagination, I must focus. Focus requires concentration. Hallways as noisy as my social media outlets diffuse focus.

Riding with my Dad the other day, on our way to get ashes I vocalized my issue with him. We had an awkward father/son moment where we weren’t sure how to deal with the emotions, and then after some added forced conversation I happened upon a possible obstacle that could be the first clue in locating my imagination.

Since the death of my mother I have found that the dynamic of my family has changed. Before you face palm and close the tab that you are viewing my stupid writing on, the statement deserves merit. You see with the death of my mother, I basically have become an orphan. My dad being a man from an all boy family and me being the oldest boy of yet another all boy family, emotional fortitude is not really our strongest characteristic. With that said, I always had two parents, but recently had one exit this dimension and move on to whatever lies on the other side. The other, my dad for those of you keeping score, is reeling from the sudden shock of a 35+ year mate vanishing. In his plight of a now upside down life, the role of a father has been displaced with the rest of his displaced existence.

As I sat and pondered the direction that this revelation had the potential to take me I listened to the message of the ashes, which was suffer silently. Great, so now that I have made the decision to go to social media rehab, which we will call my blog, I get an M. Night Shyamalan plot twist thrown at me. Here I think that I am having a complete epiphany, only to find that once again the location of my imagination has eluded me.

Suffer in silence for the world doesn’t hold the answer to your toils. Kind of makes my blog useless.

I’ve lost something

In the past few weeks I have noticed something happening. The subtle nuance of this wretched annoyance has been gaining momentum and advancing upon our community with the grace of an ogre pillaging a rural Swedish community. The white elephant in the room has taken its place on the stage and announced that he is present. Everyone at the party has been empowered to acknowledge the subject that we all spoke of indiscreetly.

University of the Pacific is an institution that is quite honestly one of the most immaculate grounds in the City of Stockton. A short stroll through the meticulously pruned rose garden to admire the art of maintaining these visually delicate yet astonishingly resilient plants allows escape. A saunter into the small forum of columns that is easily recognizable as you have seen the image in a coveted family portrait that takes proud residence in the living room of a beloved friend or family member. These and many more monuments of visual expression are valuable to the atmosphere of experimental and free thought, as well as the surrounding community.

Stockton Beautiful is an organization of concerned individuals that have a mission to beautify their community. The board and membership of the philanthropic group from the young and energetic to the wise and accomplished infuse each other with the notion of beauty. Beauty goes further than its superficial stereotype. Beauty creates a culture. Pride comes from beauty. Stockton Beautiful is no stranger to efforts of invigorating a community of individuals to accomplish unthinkable feats of excellence. We can see the fruits of their work in the collaborative spectacle made possible through driven community philanthropic exertion, in the Rose Garden that resides in Victory Park on the north side of the Haggin Museum.

Greg Bahr is a citizen of Stockton. If you have spent any time on the Miracle Mile enjoying a sunny walk on Sunday, or patronizing one of the loving merchants, you have probably come across Greg. He is responsible for community events in the district such as the wildly successful Miracle Mile Night through his interaction with a group of focused individuals that serve on the little known, highly experimental, yet overwhelmingly effective Neighborhood Renaissance Committee. This group is of the mind that if neighborhood events are present the fabric of the community will be strengthened. Communities with strong fabric tend to employ a lighter outlook on the grim offerings that life brings. My opinion of Greg is rather skewed, due to my respect for his efforts, but I am fairly confident that if you stop and listen to his pleas for a cohesive effort in the infinite quest for betterment, we will most definitely agree.

These three groups evidence the presence of positive movement in our City. People are working to create the nirvana of community. As we spoke of earlier, a white elephant that has come from the shadows of civic conversation in Stockton. His presence has been embraced. It is all too easy to make fun, stay cynical and ignore our emotions. The perception of mediocrity and ignorance is lavished upon us by our national media publications. Our local media has become snarky and arrogant to the population of new media consumers. I have found myself embroiled in passion fueled discourse that is not contributing to the solution but rather of symptom of the white elephant. This is the most troubling to me.

It is through my faith that I have weathered the stormy waters of loss. I am no person to preach and ladle my ideological rhetoric upon you. My only mention of this is to make apparent of my plans to regain my imagination and focus my efforts. In my loss of imagination I plan to embark upon a spiritual journey in search of the treasure that has befallen me.

The white elephant’s message is a dangerous path. His call to acceptance is my cue to reboot my operating system. With the Lenten season upon us and the coming of Ash Wednesday, I will be disconnecting from the matrix of chatter, and focus on real efforts. I will leave the acoustically challenged halls of Twitter to find the voice that I have lost. I plan to engage the philanthropy that is meaningful to me and shed the cynicism that has polluted my mind. I plan to detoxify my spirit in an effort to return with the child like wonder that I desire.

Words are not meaningful if not built upon action. My grand plans of success through philanthropy are on trial and it is my turn to stand in front of the judge and plea our case for freedom. I will not be participating in any form of social media other than blogging. I will not be Twitter alerting my blog. My reason for this is that the core of my answer lies in personal discovery. Vanity and narcissism are the foes in which I am at battle with. It is the constant quest for the laugh, that I have lost the ability to entertain myself.

Easter will be the day in which I emerge back to the scene with a hopefully fresh look and box of hustle. I will look to the people that are fixtures in my life for support and share the journey through this little piece of real estate on the internet I call brewery33 aka my stupid writing.

I leave you with a quote that hopefully bounces around your cranium and ferments for a while. I actually don’t know who said it, but it is in no way my work. I hope that works for citing purposes.

“In this media-drenched, data-rich, channel-surfing, computer-gaming age, we have lost the art of doing nothing, of shutting out the background noise and distractions, of slowing down and simply being alone with our thoughts.”

Stockton will win.