Money is bullshit.

Money is this thing we created a long time ago, and have since begun using as a way of reassuring ourselves that we have a right to live.

This problem should have been (and possibly was) foreseen by its creators. Because, in reality, it is just the logical conclusion of its existence. When you have a community so full of people that the vast majority simply have nothing meaningful to do available to them, and when those same people have found a way of pushing all their real cost so far away that the no-one even remembers it's there anymore - what else do you expect to happen?

It's hard to remember that money is actually just a thing that we can trade for what we need. It is just a simplified way of saying: I have this much of A and you have that much of B. I need B, while you need A. So we'll trade evenly A for B so that we both simultaneously get rid of what we didn't need while procuring what we did.

Problems arose when I needed B but you didn't need A, you needed C. But I didn't have C - the person over there did. And they needed D. So, money was created as an even trading field. You come up with a fair amount of money to trade for what you have and everyone else does the same. Then, you can get A, B, C, or D - regardless of what you had in the beginning. So then, anyone who has a surplus of anything has a means of getting whatever it is they need, regardless of what the seller needs.

It was a great idea, a great way of making a real growing community function better. But now, here we are. Stuck in a system driven by the gathering and hording of money as a thing to need itself. And because of our immense affluence - money has replaced our need of A, B, C, or D. Now, we need to find ways of procuring money.

Money that could buy money - that would be the best!

But why? Because in our quickly degrading system, things easily acquire too high a "pricetag". We won't talk about cost in this case because that has so little do with the price of something now, that it's absolutely irrelevant to bring into the discussion of price. So, if we don't have large stores of money - we can't afford the things we do need because the balance is wrong.

So, what can we try to do to reconcile the system with reality?

Thing is: we just have to remember the truth of the situation to see through it: A human only needs 1) water, 2) food, and 3) shelter in order to survive at a basal minimum. Community is an extension of means only. And everything else is just fluff. Some of it is good fluff, some shitty fluff. But, in reality, our survival is not even half as complicated as it seems.

Could I possibly be a story-teller without computer or conventional pens/pencils and paper? Could I still be a musician without electricity and conventionally-made instruments?

Of course. The form and style of creation would have to change, naturally. But those forms and styles are just evolutions of older and different forms and styles from when there were other means and other conventions. The creation remained throughout those evolutions, and would again. Naturally.

So then, what is there to fear - but fear itself? Fear for its own sake.

I'm tired of being afraid. And yet it is so easy to keep going back to it. Too "what if we get screwed over?" and "what if it all falls apart?" and "what if we can't do it?" and "what if we just hate each other?"

But. This is community. A real, scary - depending on the people involved kind of one. One where the people involved actually need what the others have and they all need to actually rely on one another. Of course, everyone needs to feel like everyone else will catch them if they slip. And, so long as they will, there is no reason to fear. And so, fear can eventually disappear.

But, most importantly is the commitment to the community - to actually do everything to catch each other, to help each other not to slip at all. It can't be that one person is "outside the loop". It can't be that one person is "less saveable". It's got to be even all around. Or else, the community is unbalanced and won't function any better than an uneven wheel.

If it ever becomes the case that one person is excluded, then that person naturally begins to be more concerned for themself than for the community. And, as a result either that person breaks the community or the community bans that person or - in a small enough case - the community crumbles and becomes irrelevant.

And, if that is the case from the onset, then the situation has to be addressed differently. Then, instead of a singular community, what you actually have is a smaller community and an outsider.

Compassion and care are still given to the outside, but never outside the community's means because at no point is the outsider expected to give back to the community - unlike the community's members. This means that the community has to be careful to know exactly what its means are. That way the community can continue to offer to the outsider without fear of not having enough for the community. So, the community can be compassionate and open, while still fully sustaining itself and being honest about its means to the outsider.

This only changes when or if said outsider decides to fully join the community, which should be allowed to happen with full acceptance. So long as the outsider commits to the needs of the community and the community commits to the needs of the outsider, and both can be mutually existent.

Is this the cusp? Is this a chance? Will it change?

Am I changing the world? Probably not.

In reality, I'm just talking. As freely and openly as I can. Just sharing my thoughts and asking you for your's. Just trying to be challenged and challenge you back.

If that changes the world, I'd be shocked. I'd be thrilled, but I'd be shocked.
Why? It seems like that should work. Like that would be the only way. Like it'd be the best possible way. Like it's the only shot we've still got left. Like it was the only one we ever had.

And yet. Who even cares to listen? Who has the time? Who has the patience? Who wants to turn down the volume enough of their vapidity to even hear anything at all? To realise that everything around them is just more and more and more suffering?

So. Very. Few.

So, then what is the way now? What can we do? What can we say? How can we get your attention again and hold it for more than half a second so that we can actually make a difference?

I suppose I'll just keep talking. To you, to them, to everyone I can. And maybe, eventually, it'll come through the noise. And, in the meantime, until it does, I'll just try to understand and have compassion and peace with you.

Because you're my friend, babe. And I care about you. And I'm not willing to give up. But I'm willing to lose everything else.

Conflict Clarified

This is the explication of that personal conflict I've been having. I'm hoping to come to terms with it now so we can all move on.

This is my journey through gender and sexuality.
It's been hard, of course. "Outlier" is not an easy thing to be labeled, regardless of age or upbringing. But, it gets better. Slowly, as we continue to try.

Here we go.
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Growing up, I felt "wrong". I wanted to wear dresses every day with ribbons in my hair and wanted to climb trees, scrape up my knees, punch my friends then laughed about it together. I wanted to play with dolls and trucks. I was told these things didn't go together. That I should "be more lady-like". When I refused, they decided I was a "tomboy".

I knew what that meant. So I started acting the part because I couldn't figure out what else I was. So I wore the baggiest jeans I could find with these huge flannel shirts, and I swore off ribbons and make-up and dresses because they were all stupid. And just to be sure they believed me, to be sure they'd accept me, I told everyone I could that I hated even the sight of the color pink.

In sixth grade, I flipped out. I was convinced I was going to hell because I couldn't stop staring at my sixth grade lady teacher. I would stare at her picture in the yearbook from the year before, telling myself over and over again that I wasn't gay, that I just thought she was really cool and awesome. And then, I discovered the word "pretty" and I was pretty sure I was saved by it. Because I could say another girl was "pretty" without being thought to have a crush on her. Because only girls were pretty. And so, I would tell myself over and over again how "cool" and "pretty" she was. That was all.

By high school, I had convinced myself that I was fine. And I made sure of it by having crush after crush on boy after boy. I made sure there was always some boy I was concentrating on so I didn't have to think about it. The slightest suggestion of "oh, what, do you have a crush on him?" and I would be all over it. Notes and taking secretive pictures and oggling - the whole deal.

And yet, I had missed skirts and dresses - so I started wearing them and showing off my stomach and wearing short shorts like all the other girls did. Because I had to get the boy's attention so that no-one would realise that I kept wondering if I secretly hated my body because I really should have been born a boy and that was what the problem really was all along. Because underneath all the girly stuff, I was still such a "tomboy" because I just wanted to rough around with my friends like all the boys did. Like the boys were supposed to do.

Because I was violent and bitter and messed up inside. And totally alone and incapable of opening up. None of the boys actually liked me and none of the girls wanted me to rough them up and I was trapped and just trying to keep it all in somehow. I was depressed and suicidal and so afraid to speak up. So instead, I started praying every night that in the morning, I just wouldn't wake up. That I'd be granted the blessing of dying so I didn't have to face the next day. Because praying was how you got things done as long as God liked you enough.

I was convinced *he* did (because clearly God was a guy because why wouldn't he be?), when I finally got a boyfriend. Then, I could let all of my aggression toward my confused sexual feelings out on him. I'd lash out if he so much as glanced at another girl. How dare he! And I let my hatred of my own sexual body out in the form of his porn addiction, so I didn't have to open up my own pandora's box. So I didn't have to admit that behind all of this, I had questions.

So my jealousy became incomprehensibly hot and my morality sky-rocketed. I couldn't so much as think about another person. I probably shouldn't even be around anyone else, save my boyfriend.

It was all just a catch-all safety net and my boyfriend was my scapegoat. So long as we had each other, I didn't have any problems. I would get married young, have kids, raise them, and travel the world. I was just fine. The fact that those sexy scenes with naked breasts and sweaty hips in movies turned me on too didn't count. And the fact that a girl with her shirt half off made my heart race and my skin feel warm didn't mean anything. It was her fault with her sinful body - not mine.

When we broke, I was glad to be away from all of his sexual problems. Thank god. I was free to have a normal, heterosexual, problem-free relationship and life.

Then, I went to England and met my spouse and friends who were more sexually open than I'd ever been. slowly, thanks to them, I was able to admit - at least to myself and those few people - that, yes I did have a crush on my sixth grade teacher. And yes, I had been lying to myself for years. And yes I do get turned on by the naked female body and the naked male body, equally. And yes, I do like pink and ribbons and button-down shirts and ties.

Moving to PDX led to meeting many more people living outside of the rigid lines I was given when I was young. And the development of Asher and Brandon was my way of assimilating it all so I could get to where I am now.

Post-gender and sexually inclusive. Ascribing to the concept that people are just attracted to people - regardless of gender or sexuality. That you don't have to pick one or the other. That you aren't forced to label yourself. That you can just be open and free and allow whatever flows to flow. That this will, in fact, lead to the best possible relationships and emotions and understanding.

So all of my so-called conflicted feelings aren't conflicts at all. I can both feel like a "boy" and a "girl", at the same time. Because neither term actually applies. They are just contrived headings to huge lists of attributes that any person can have in any combination. And attraction to any grouping of those attributes is just as fair and free, regardless of terms or sexual organs.

More personal bullshit...

One of these days, I'll get back to writing about real things, instead of emotional trivia and tripe. But, bear with me for now. I'm having a sort of extended crisis.
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I feel like a ghost, like a background painting, like the wallpaper, like the wall. But then, I feel like the ring-leader, the circus director, the main act on the main stage, too.

What the fuck.

I feel like I'm torn, ripped in half between being the head and the tail, the front and the back, the lead and the shadow.
Can I be both?
Should I be either?

I often wonder how many people know what I know. How many people would ever suspect me of being the silent eyes, the fly in the window, the tape-recorder tapping your phone line, listening in on everything you've ever said.
I think very few.

I often wonder how many people would ever guess how the ringleader recedes so quickly, like a landslide or an avalanche. Becoming a silent pair of eyes that is too weak and too terrified and too unsure to speak. I wonder how many people who see the main act would ever suspect me of being the wordless side-show.
I think very few.

But then, these might be false assumptions. Perhaps, I'm just like I want to be - transparent. See through. Like a piece of glass instead of a fading mirror or broken stain-glass. Crystal clear and completely understandable. Predictable, even. Perhaps, people see me and they can instantly see both sides and think to themselves - that individual must be very conflicted.
I doubt it.

I fear that the problem underlying all of this is a weakness, an inability, a deficiency. A lack of gumption, you could say. Or nerve. Or commitment, perhaps. A lack of inner gusto. A lack of courage.

Because underneath all of the comforts and trained, practiced things is still this gnawing little voice, muffled as it might be by circumstance or repetition or force - muttering constantly, "You can't do it. You never could. And you already knew that. So give up now before you look even more a fool than you already do."

I'm no musician. I'm no writer. I'm no barista.
I'm just faking it. Putting up a cleverly practiced pretense.
Just pasting on an image that I feel good about.

I'm not post-gender or sexually-progressive or accepting or open. I'm not non-judgmental. I'm not free of stereotypes and cliches and a lack of freedom or autonomy. I'm just a product of my surroundings and my indoctrinations and my learned and assumed prejudices. I'm just a mouth-piece of all the things I'm told to believe, just like every one else - no matter how hard I try to break free.

Is this what everyone feels?
I'm trying to quiet the voices that tell me to give up and give in.
I'm trying to break free. But the more I break, the more I find needs breaking, and the more I find needs breaking, the harder it becomes to believe that I will ever be anything I can actually accept or believe in. Which makes me want to give up, give in, or get revenge.

Which is shitty, I realise. But then, I'm just as shitty as everyone else. Just as judgmental, just as lazy, just as pleased by all the ridiculous little things I give myself everyday that have absolutely no meaning.

I'm just a puppet of my the things I've been told. Of the powers that I perceive are above my head, pulling the strings.

I think, if I were more careful, I could have better words to say this all in. But, right now, I feel careless and reckless and driven by a desperation to not fall crashing back into the hopelessness I've - for some reason - always eventually returned to.

How can I be peace if I'm just a piece of shit? Or worse, if I just keep believing that I am?

I suppose we only do the things we think innately that we are capable of. Which is I always come up short when it comes to the things I want to be. And always come out on top of the things I don't care that I am. Because, in those cases, I'm "good enough" because I'm not bad enough. But, when it counts - I'm always full of shit.

Maybe I can change that.
Maybe we call can.
It's worth a shot.

I guess we just have to do it by doing it.
Don't we.