mr.gr3y

Anyone here on W.a use Discord?

Disregard my previous rantings about privacy and the absurdity of social networks, as I'm sure Discord is not very privacy focused, and I guess it's considered a social network? I've used it mostly for gaming (which I don't really do anymore, yay for being an old fuck). But I've also used it for general online communities and for a variety of other reasons. A lot of software developers use it to allow customers to provide faster input on beta testing, or even general support inquiries for companies.

I was thinking it might be fun to have a place to chat or interact more with other writers here on W.a and just have a fun online hangout. This may not be the best way to do it, and it may be a stupid idea, but, oh well. I'll remove this post, if so.

I made a new dummy account, and a dummy server, which you can join by going to this link.

I left social media a few years ago and haven't ever really looked back. Facebook was the first to go. I became huge into the topic of online privacy years ago. When Snowden was all over the news, I got obsessed even more. And after downloading my own data from Facebook and found all the audio recordings they had of me, when I wasn't even using the app, or my phone (they had recorded conversations of me and my son in my car while we were driving around, and many other similar events) I had enough, and gave it the boot. I changed to encrypted emails, use VPN's at all times, use TOR, updated all my passwords to intense passphrases using Bitwarden, and turned on 2-step authentication for everything, and more.

If you haven't ever looked into Edward Snowden and what he revealed to the world, I suggest you do. I also suggest you get off any social media platform, make yourself a cup of coffee, and go sit outside (like I am doing right now).

It's been so many years since I've been on Facebook that I often forget it's even a thing, until someone brings it up. And then I get confused and go, “oh wait, that's still a thing? People still use that?” It doesn't make sense to me.

For my work, we do have social media accounts, but the overall mood towards them is one of disgust. We've debated several times if we should just erase them and not even participate in the social media game, which many companies are starting to do. But, through a transfer between a marketing company we used to use for that, and our internal staff, something happened with our Facebook account, and it seemed like we were locked out. My boss kind of freaked out a little and asked me to get it resolved, which, I was hesitant on because I had deactivated my account years ago. Long story short, I did all I could to make sure our staff were the admins, but my boss asked me if I would get on – even if I made a dummy account – just as a reserve/backup in case something happened in the future. I regretfully decided to log back into my account, just so she could add me as an admin in the case of some tragic facebook account emergency. As if that really mattered.

I didn't know if it was going to work or not, as it had been years since I've logged in. But, I went for it. It all looks entirely different now than I remember it looking. My old photo was there, which was weird. It was like an instant step back in time, 6 years ago. I figured that while I was in, I might as well click around a bit. I looked at some of my posts and rolled my eyes. Stupid me. For the most part, I only posted quotes and comments on peace and love and unity and consciousness, meditation, etc. But I did have some stupid memes and silly ego-based comments about the ways of society.

I took a peek at the timeline to see what everyone was posting. Within seconds, I realized that everyone and everything was still the same as when I left. The same people complaining about the same type of things. The same garbage memes and arguments. I instantly regretted getting on. Plus, it seems Facebook has some pretty intense censorship going on, which was obvious. Even to the point of shaming people and calling them extremists for their posts, and warning others that may or may not know the person. I checked my notifications, and some of the memes I had posted years ago were flagged as inappropriate or offensive and removed. But the removal date only seemed to be within the last year or so, while they were apparently fine for 5 years before that? Interesting. I guess I've been marked as a threat to Facebook society. The 'Big Brother' of the internet...

I connected the business account as a backup, and then immediately disabled my account again. What a joke.

Even though I was only on there for a few minutes, I could instantly feel myself sinking lower. I'll use the hippie term, 'my vibration', only because I believe that really is a wonderful way to explain it. Just being on there and seeing everything and absorbing ads and people's arguments and stupid comments and memes, just left me feeling lower than I did before. It's kind of the same feeling I got after getting sucked into the Reddit forum of trashy people doing trashy things. I'm glad to be off of there. (Facebook and that Reddit forum)

It's only perfect that I've been reading the book, 1984 by George Orwell. If you haven't read it, I suggest you do, or at least get through a good summary of it. I mention Facebook being Big Brother above, as that's the main reference for the 'controlling power' in that book. I'm in the middle of it now and wanting to get back to it, which I will shortly, getting through a few more chapters before I need to go into work.

I think it was tmo that was writing about how he was so glad he left social media as well, and I guess I'm just chiming in to say the same. The privacy stuff is rather interesting, and sadly, it's nearly impossible to get away from being tracked and monitored now, no matter how 'extreme' you get on the scale of things. Even if you left society and went into the forest alone without any technology, they still have drones flying above us at all times that can see and hear just about everything. Not to mention along your journey they have cameras everywhere, and facial recognition is becoming a standardized thing. They could build a pathway and timeline of your events and identity in no time. Plus, maybe they would take your actions as some sort of offense, label you an extremist and a threat, and deal with you appropriately. If someone wanted to find you badly enough, and had enough resources and time, it will happen.

And of course I just see this headline pop up today online...

NYPD Adding Children as Young as 11 to Facial Recognition Database

Anyway, shoutout to tmo and inquiry.

Time for more coffee and reading...

Back later.

/mg

We went camping over the weekend, leaving Saturday afternoon, and staying through Sunday. Sure, it was only two-days and one night, but I swear to whatever deity you prefer, that I lost about 20 pounds of body weight through sweating my ass off the entire fuggin’ time. I probably added more humidity to the area than what is found in a woman-filled arena after a John Mayer concert.

We went to my friend's property, which is 10 acres about an hour or so from my house, and it’s mostly desert landscape set upon some hills of more desert landscape. It has some larger shrubs and some larger desert ‘trees’, but most of it is entirely exposed, dusty, and super hot. Plus, we helped work while we were there: cut down trees, cut up ones that were already down, fed smaller pieces through a wood chipper, and more. So not only was it just hot as shit while just sitting there, even in the shade, but we worked our asses off for hours on end. That part wasn’t what I was expecting to do.

Tits McGee joined, of course, as well as my nearly-18-year-old-son. We all bunked up in my new large canvas tent that I was super excited to try out, which is what brought me to the land in the first place. Just about any other local camp site was taken, as we missed our opportunity to head out earlier in the week to find something in the forests. Everyone and their neighbor's dog went out camping for the holiday weekend. And so, my friend's property wasn’t the first place we wanted to go, or even the 7th, but it was available. I really only intended to just set up, enjoy some quiet, meditate, read on my Kindle, even with the heat.

But, it was the exact opposite of that. The evening was awesome once the sun went down and the temperature dropped. I was able to enjoy my camping rocking chair, bust out the Kindle, feel a gentle cooling breeze, and maybe even smile at the experience. That part was nice, and sitting around the unlit campfire (fire ban, no fires allowed) and just chatting with everyone, eating bean burritos and veggies, and watching the stars unfold in magnificent glory, was pretty great.

I don’t have a good relationship with the desert. Sure, it’s beautiful in its own way, and in my state there are numerous state parks and national parks, with some of the most iconic views that are recognizable around the world – most of them being just a couple of hours drive from my house. I feel lucky and grateful in that regard. But, I only go to most of those areas during the early Spring and Fall seasons as it gets so damn hot the majority of the year, it’s not fun at all. At. All. It’s fuggin’ miserable.

Some people love the desert and find beauty in it during those crazy hot summer times. But those fuckity-fucks are lunatics and can go fuck themselves. Wandering around the dirt and sand and rock, while fully exposed with no water source available within ten miles, is absurd. It can be pretty on someone’s Instagram shot, and maybe in some old western movie, but that’s about it. While you’re there, and you feel the heat just roasting you from the inside out (even while in the shade you have to create for yourself), and your clothes are entirely soaked with sweat, and more is pouring down in a steady drip, you can look around, and it begins to sink in pretty quickly how fucked you are, but also, how fucking stupid you are for willingly going there and expecting a nice relaxing time. The desert just makes me hot, miserable, pissed off, and not a happy person to be around. All my zen-like personality and let-there-be-love attitude melts away pretty quickly, and the punk-rock vulgar side of me is not only exposed, but begins raging.

The new tent is awesome, and I’m very excited about it still. I’m looking forward to our next adventure, which will hopefully be this weekend (just NO desert landscapes allowed). I’ll drive to a deep forest like the Tetons or Yellowstone or something like that. It’ll be worth it. The tent is massive. All three of us sprawled out in luxury with the ability to add several more people and a few dead hookers comfortably, or about 15 hobbits worth, if we are speaking in Lord of the Rings terms. We were able to stand up and move around, and I swear to your deity, that I could do a cartwheel inside without killing anyone. The massive windows on all sides are a real gem, but through the night I zipped them up mostly for privacy, and to not get too cold. It was nice, though. Expense well worth it.

By about 8am the next morning, it was already hotter than Satan’s dried out, dusty vagina, and I was not in a good mood. I didn’t sleep the best, which is how it usually goes when camping – the first night is always an adjustment where every noise keeps me up. Sipping hot coffee while rocking in my camp chair, sweating my ass off, was a thrilling experience, for sure – end sarcasm. But, I was determined to at-least try to enjoy the morning camping coffee. I look forward to that anytime we camp. Usually, though, the air is cool, and you can feel a gentle moisture in the air. The birds start chirping and all the critters are waking up. Maybe you’re even lucky to have a nearby stream you can stroll by, or hang in a hammock while in the shade of large trees above. It’s more like a scene from Cinderella where the world is alive and beautiful, and it just looks so wonderful and peaceful and welcoming.

But, it wasn’t like that at all. Instead, the reality I was in was more like a scene from Mad Max, where it’s hot and miserable, and you feel like you’re dipping your wiener into a bucket of lava at all times, and you sweat in areas that you never knew could.

I knew my friend wanted us to hang around most of the day and help him more, but I said fuck-it, pretty quickly, and decided that we were going to have to bail early and head home. I could tell that Tits McGee and the kiddo were fried and beyond miserable as well, so we tried to say our thanks and goodbye’s and started packing up to head out. By then, the sun was raging and destroying us. Packing up was brutal. I had to stop several times to put my head down between my knees and catch my breath, plus to dump water on my head and try to cool down a little. But, we kept working as a team and fought through the heat and dread, and got all packed up. Before we knew it, we were on the road, with the AC blasting on full blast, cooling us down.

I recently started reading the book, 1984, again and decided to put on the audiobook on the way home. But, for most of the trip we just drove in silence, completely exhausted, sweaty, dirty, and in poor moods. The drive was only about an hour, but instead of going straight home, I took us to a food joint to get large burritos, which we scarfed down rapidly. We were dust covered, sweaty, smelly, and probably looked odd while in the restaurant, but we didn’t care. A big-ass burrito can fix so many things, and it worked wonders for us that afternoon. Afterwards, we went home, unpacked, showered and collapsed with exhaustion.

After a couple of hours of rest and chilling, we had to go to a family gathering for the 4th. It was good to see everyone, but we were exhausted. We pigged out on lots of fruits and vegetables, and cast-iron cooked potatoes – all vegan (at least ours were – the rest of the family had plenty of kah-kah-poo-poo meats and stuff). I spent a lot of the time in the basement, where it was much cooler, sitting in my parent's deep massage chair letting that robot go to work on my back, which felt amazing.

And now it's a new week. Most people have today off for the holiday, but farmers like us don't get that perk. Plants and crops don't care what day it is.

Well, that’s about all for now. More later…

/mg

Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom. Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.

If you realize that you have enough, you are truly rich. If you stay in the center and embrace death with your whole heart, you will endure forever.

~Tao Te Ching, verse #33

I thought I published a few posts yesterday, but I realized this morning that I started several posts from different computers, and even my phone, but never finished any of them. So, I tried, in a way, but failed miserably.

Way back in the day I used to write on Tumblr, and loved their mobile app as I could post quickly and frequently with text, photos, or whatever. Tumblr now is nothing but a puke-fest of reblogging images and memes, where text-based blogging/posting is a thing of the past, which is what brought me to finding Write.as in the first place. Plus, in searching for a privacy focused alternative to any writing platform or note-taking app (as I was trying to drop Evernote at the time – now using Joplin).

This site doesn't have a mobile app apparently, except for one that is several years old and only meant to publish anonymously. I've been experimenting with using my phone with a small Bluetooth keyboard, which has worked wonderfully for general writing. It makes it easy to have a slick writing device with me, and not have to use a laptop. Sure, I have to keep a small Bluetooth keyboard in my bag, but it's super light and I don't notice it. Or, with the phone, I can use voice to text. The success rate isn't the best, but it's doable. But, in thinking about it, most of my days are based around some computer being easily accessible. It's cool to know I can use other ways quickly and easily to write or post or do whatever. As long as I hit publish, I guess, instead of starting drafts on 4 different devices throughout the day and never sending any of them.

Yesterday was a crazy day, which most Tuesday's are. But it seemed like there was extra craziness going on, with a few longer meetings occurring to get my new manager in place to run our farmstand, and do other shuffling and transitioning with other staff. A lot going on right now with the job. And I don't know if I was just exhausted, or something else, but I got into a very unmotivated and depressive mood last night and just slouched around, not interested in anything. Again, kind of one of those, “What's the point?”, kinda moods. Maybe that's why I didn't publish any writing yesterday. A lot of the time I sit and watch the stupid curser blinking and wonder what is the point in writing random thoughts out? Who cares!? It does nothing. But then I look at most things in life, and you could say the same thing about any and all of that too. A lot of what we do has no point other than just doing the thing itself. Or because it's all we've known our whole lives, and we do it just because we do it. Even take some other random thing, such as listening to music. It has zero point at all except to just enjoy the flow of it. The point isn't to get to the end of it, or else we'd rush through to get the final note of the song and feel satisfied in a weird way that we 'successfully made it through the song'. But, we like to dance and just be and flow and all that, even if there is no other point beyond that.

I think life is that way too. Of course, you could insert one of those cliché quotes about the journey being the point, and I agree, of course. All of this is just a weird dance where we're just watching the changes in ourselves all within the present moment, with time itself being a total illusion. And all of it is entirely pointless and purposeless beyond just the experience of life itself. We're just being, and flowing, like through a beautiful song.

Understanding that can be the most beautiful and liberating thing you could ever realize. It can also be the most depressing and soul crushing experience. I guess it's up to the witness, and the experiencer of said events, to determine their own experience and how they want to approach it. One can dance through a song and play, and feel tremendous joy and gratitude. Or, you can sit on the sidelines, grumbling, judging, condemning, and pointing out how pointless it all is, and experience the opposite of joy.

I think we often experience the duality of that spectrum at different times of our lives – even within the same day – which is beautiful. I can even admit that sometimes I see life as the most beautiful and surreal experience ever, where I'm just radiating with magical hippie joy about the pure awesomeness of it all, blow away with awe and wonder, and feel overwhelmed with gratitude for every moment. Other times, I experience myself being the judging, condemning, critiquing asshole that's radiating with pure pessimism and rage, while rubbing off my own ego and dare even go to absurd lengths, such as blaming someone else for my own poor experience.

I guess last night is when I was spanking my own ego, and lubing myself up with my own self-created system of labeling everything as absurd, or something.

Tits McGee had a friend that invited her to a hip hop dance class, so she went to that after we had a quick dinner together. And from then on I was just in a bummer mood. Her leaving wasn't involved, I don't think. I think I was just exhausted or something, because after a lot of sleep last night, I'm feeling much better today and back to my normal goofy self. I do wonder if there's something deeper going on, perhaps just overall boredom with life, that I need to spend some time looking at more deeply.

I'll spend more time meditating on all of that and see what I dig up, or what's blatantly obvious and shouting at me that I'm just not listening to.

In the last few years, I've really begun to see how introverted I am, and to get a lot more clarity on my own levels of energy that I have each day. It's like a quota system of energy levels, which is refreshed after sleeping. And the quality and amount of sleep I get is what charges up that energy bank again. More deep sleep means I get a good refresh, and am recharged pretty well. Not a lot of sleep, or low quality of sleep, my mood and energy starts off very low. Then throughout the day, everything is like an energy financial system, where I have to pay my way through experiences and interactions with others by using my own energy as currency.

Team meeting, cool, that'll be 10 tokens please. Lots of planning and spreadsheets and math? That requires a lot of energy to power this failing brain of mine. Extra 5 tokens, please. Some days I only have 15 tokens to start with. Work may use them all up, and then Tits McGee may want to use another 20 tokens to hike and play, and do the dishes, and put on a viking hat and wreck her. And I may not have those tokens readily available, which ruins me, and creates a poor experience for her as well.

Usually I'm pretty good and don't have any issues. But sometimes, I think there is a slow decline in the energy, where across a week or two I all of a sudden notice that I'm in the negative, and it hits me hard. I'm wondering if I've had a little of that experience recently.

Caffeine is a wonderful cheat code to use in this silly game. But, it's more like a booster than a replacement for energy tokens. When the boost runs out, you realize that you were lower than you thought you were, and can plummet fast.

Camping and hiking is a wonderful way for me to recharge quickly. Just to get away from people and society and noise and human stuff. I think we're going to try and get away if we can this weekend, and recharge a bit. I need it. I can tell that Tits McGee needs it as well. And I'm stoke to use that new tent.

Well... back at it. More later...

/mg

mrgr3y at protonmail dot com

Today went by rather quickly, says I from an analyzing subjective perspective. It was a usual Monday in terms of the work routine on the farm. The job itself is rather routine, where every Monday through Wednesday is basically the same. Every Monday, I follow the same routine and tasks as any other Monday. It's when we start harvesting the crops for the week and prepping the orders, labeling, sorting, etc. Tuesday is also another harvest day and then more bagging and order prep for all our subscribers. Wednesday is where we move the baby plants into the sections of the greenhouse that we just emptied, which allows them to spread out their leaves and grow into everything they ever wanted to be. And then we cut them and eat them.

I'm sitting in the living room on my laptop right now. Tits McGee is laying on the other couch, reading on her iPad. Occasionally she'll give a little sound, like a “Hmmm”, but in a gentle and positive feel-good tone, which means she read something she felt was interesting, and is nodding with approval. Which then she'll use her little Apple Pencil thingy and highlight what she read, and move on. If she really felt it was cool, she'll ask if she can read it out loud to me, which of course I'll say, “Wooo weee, and shit be golly! You're g'damn right, I want you to read that passage out loud to me, baby. Go ahead and give it to me”.

And then she'll... you know... read it to me.

I'll give a nod of approval, and then just kinda move on with my life.

Sometimes there are days when I hear the same “Hmmm” sound, but in a negative tone, where it's all short and sassy like, very punchy and bold. And that's when Mr. Gr3y knows he's in trouble for a few days, and needs to keep his mouth shut.

Back on the couch... I started reading on my phone (Galaxy S10+) but wasn't in the mood to get deep into a book right now, so I whipped out the laptop to browse around a little, and of course, write. I'm a chronic book starterererer, but I usually don't finish any of them. Although, I tend to give Stephen King a slightly better chance than other authors, just because I'm a long-term fan, and honestly, who doesn't LOVE a massive hit of disappointment at the end of a 1,200-page read.

Kidding, but not really.

I guess I get too distracted with just one book, and get curious about so many other things, so I just give up and move on to something else, starting a new book. Rinse, and repeat. Today I started some new fiction story that was high up on some internet list, about some lady that killed her husband and then kept quiet about it through her entire trial or something, only to have some shocking twist be revealed that made everyone say, “Oh wow, what a shocking twist”. And those people would get online and write a review that said “Oh wow, what a shocking twist”. And then gullible suckers like me scroll through and would read the reviews where people said, “Oh wow, what a shocking twist”, and I'd get curious and want to know what the shocking twist was. But then I won't get to the end of the book and never know what the shocking twist was.

I'm at peace with this.

---

We made mexi-bowls tonight, and they were awesome. (If you haven't read any of my previous posts, where I described this routine dish that we have, just imagine a super healthy vegan burrito, but instead of it all rolled into a tortilla, you throw all the ingredients into a bowl and scoop it out.)

There. Now you know what I ate tonight. I'm sure you've been dying to know. If this were InstaSnatchaGram, I would post a shitty photo of my food. But, alas, here we are. Hi.

We ate several hours ago, and I still feel bloated and full from it all. I put a lot of hot sauce on it – multiple sauces, actually – which as I'm nearing 40 years old means I have a near sexual relationship with, Tums (I live dangerously).

And you know what!? I'm craving watermelon now, too, but there just ain't no gosh darn diddly tootin' room is this here belly o' mine. But, seriously, what's more satisfying than a very sweet watermelon that is ice-cold? And I know you're going to try and say something about John Stamos' hair, sparkling in the sun, being way more satisfying. But trust me. Watermelon is so much better.

After eating wayyyy too much (and watching an episode of Friends – yeah, that's still happening) we took a huge bag of old sheets, and blankets and towels to my brother's house, who lives just a couple of minutes from me. His dog just had puppies, and he needed some random cloth to help clean up the said event and all its moisty-moistness.

The dog had ten fuggin' puppies! TEN! They just kept coming out, he said. She'd fart and another one would fly out. Then another.

I don't remember what kind of dog she is – some sort of large poodle mix. You know... the one that has fur and legs and ears and all that dog stuff. But oddly enough, he said she has an 'odd' number of nipples. Just FYI. Can't undo that imagine now, can you!

She's really cute and ran out of her room all excited to see us visitors when we showed up. We dropped off the cloth goods, took a peek at the little babies, but kept a distance as momma was keeping an eye on us and being a little protective. My brother is in for a fun ride in a few weeks/months when there are 10 puppies destroying his entire house. It was a short visit, and we returned home to chill and mount our booties on the couches like we are now, to read and relax a little.

Sleep is coming soon though. I can feel it like the old bastard that I am, and I welcome it.

One of the books I have been flipping through lately, and reading here and there, is, The Hobbit. I've never read any of that entire series, and felt it would be cool to get through them. So, I'm giving it a go. A slow go, apparently. But, so far, it seems fun.

Oh, and I guess I'll confess another thing too: I finally read all the Harry Potter books. It only took me about 15 years or so, but, I did it. Any seven-year-old would be so proud of me right now. They are fantastic stories, though.

Well, Tits McGee just went upstairs, so I guess the time of laying horizontally and going unconscious for hours at a time is soon arriving. It's always so fuggin' hot, and the bedrooms are on the third-floor. I keep my AC running almost as hard and long as my ex-wife did with my life savings, and I'm sure my bill for the month is going to be the cause of my pending heart-failure. But, ain't nobody got time to be sleepin' hot and sweaty.

Seriously. It's the worst.

For those that read this, I hope you're doing well. May the Holy Spirit of John Stamos' hair gel be with you, but, trust me. Ice. Cold. Watermelon. Mmmm.

Peace & Plants.

/mg

mrgr3y at protonmail dot com

I started Monday off with waking up rather early, way ahead of when my alarm was supposed to go off at 5:45 am. I don’t even know when I woke up, but I’m guessing around the 5 am range. I would have loved to stay asleep longer, if I had the choice. But, the decision was made that Tits McGee and I were due to wake up by our fur-babies, who were using our sleeping bodies as trampolines as they bounced around our room like they were doing lines of coke all night and were completely losing their kitty-sized minds. Plus, in their tweaked out state, they must have had a strong case of the munchies, because they got right in our sleeping faces and began meowing as if to say “Hey, human bitches! Wake up and feed us! We hungry!” Sometimes even swatting at us, and then bouncing off as an immediate reflex. Punch and run, kind of maneuver.

Well, it worked.

Tits McGee got up first and shuffled the psychos downstairs to get them some food. They immediately trotted away at light speed, causing the house to sound like a herd of buffalo was soaring right past Kevin Costner and manifesting out of the movie, Dances with Wolves, and tumbling down our stairs. A chorus of meows rang loudly throughout the house until they were offered their glorious bowls of dead ocean flesh from a can. Mmm, tasty. 
 Side note, I think it’s funny when vegans (like myself and Tits McGee) have carnivorous pets, such as cats. (or even when vegans have pets in general). I won’t buy animal flesh for our consumption, of course, but we willingly do it for the pets we enslave, which of course means we contribute to the sustainability of those industries killing and canning more flesh. Even though the mindset of those cats is that they have us enslaved. I mean, we feed them, spoil them, massage them for hours a day (gladly, I might add – they’re just so darn cute). And I swear they stand behind me and watch with a smirk on their furry little fuggin’ faces as we scoop out their poop. I can just hear their evil overlord voices now, saying, “Yessssss. Excellent. Scoop up my poo for me, you pathetic human slave.”

Tits McGee brought me a cup of coffee a few moments later while I was still being lazy in bed, just enjoying the stillness of the range after the buffalo were now satisfied and beginning the next phase of the morning, which is a process called: “point a leg straight up in the air and go to town licking crotches”. I assume this process is also a part of their power-play, as if to say “Hey human, thanks for feeding us. Now don’t break eye-contact with me as I lick my own genitals.” SLLLURRRPP SLLLLURRRPP.

While laying in bed, I checked a few things on my phone to get my mind in work mode, and to see if there were any “fires” that needed immediate attention. But, I mostly enjoyed several long and deep breaths as a mini-meditation before getting up and getting ready for the day.

I dress very minimally, and wear the same style of clothes almost everyday, so it’s very easy for me to dress. I look the exact same on most days. Dark-colored blank t-shirt, blue jeans or hiking pants. I wear a brown mala bead necklace that I’ve worn for 12+ years, and will wear an “army” style jacket that has loads of pockets (I LOVE pockets) when the season calls for it. I still wear converse shoes, (classic black and white) or an all black pair of minimalist/barefoot shoes. I wear my hair messy – longer on top and shorter on the sides and back – with darker brown/tortoise style glasses.

Overall, I’m still a 20-year-old punk rocker with hipster tendencies that’s somehow fooling the world into thinking I’m a mature, near-40 year old responsible man. I’ll forever be a kid though, even if/when I get to old age. I’ll still wear the converse shoes and still make jokes like an immature 12-year-old about dicks and boobies, and will curse like a sailor, even though I align heavily with the zen-like spiritual hippie realms and preach endlessly about peace, love, consciousness and oneness. I’m an interesting mix, for sure.

After getting ready and heading downstairs, I loaded up on more coffee, and Tits McGee had prepared some snacks for me and had them all ready in my canvas lunch tote. I grabbed my messenger bag which has my laptop, chargers, headphones, several Leuchtturm1917 notebooks, and a couple fountain pens, gave love and kisses, and headed out the door to go be a farmer. Or, at least, the business side of the farm.

It’s going to be a busy week. I need to get the new manager I hired last week set up and ready to go, and make a few other employee adjustments that I wrote out previously. Plus, just the normal chaos of harvesting and prepping orders and the usual operations of the farm, which I’m heavily involved in.

I took a quickie break to write all this out, but I need to get back to it…

More later…

Peace & Plants!

/mg

Note: I asked my lady what her name should be if someone was writing about her through an anonymous blog online.

And she said... “Tits McGee”.

So. I officially enter this name into the record now, as my girlfriend.

It's now 7:11 pm as I write this sentence. I'm laying on my couch in my plant-filled living room. My lady (I still haven't picked a name for her yet, clearly) is reading a book for work. She's on the same couch, and we are in a 'head-to-toe' style of hanging out. The couch is deep enough to handle that, even though it's not the most comfortable. But, it earns me some 'cutesy boyfriend points', which apparently I have to worry about collecting for whatever reason.

The day today was pretty uneventful. We really didn't do much except hang around the house, being rather lazy. It was so damn hot outside, and we were just not feeling up to doing much. The idea of hiking came up, but that never manifested. I watched some YouTube, did some reading, and did go for a very short walk around the block. But, overall, I just kept feeling more and more unmotivated for just about anything. I guess I could say that I dipped down into a little depressive state for several hours, mostly fueled by boredom, and mixed in with a slow dripping line of “what's the point in anything”. Those mixtures can surely cause anyone to whirlpool downward, and quickly.

The lady and I did a quick trip to the gym, mostly fueled by me making us go. I felt the need to 'shake it up' a bit, and to get myself out of my little mental funk. Changing up the environment and physical activity are the best ways to do it super quickly. She didn't really feel in the mood to go – which is super rare – but, we made it. We rode the bikes for a while, and kept it pretty minimal. I did some reading the entire time, and ended up doing about 5 miles on a semi-tough intensity level on the bike, but I definitely wasn't interested in pushing it. I figured, while I was reading anyways, I could at least move my legs a little and get my heart pumping. A pathetic attempt at 'working out' was better than no attempt, right!?

While sweating, I was reading a few blurbs from a book called, I Am That: Talks with Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj. It's one I've read dozens of times over the last 15 years or so, and re-read it constantly – the same with the Tao Te Ching – and continuously find intense value throughout each of them. They are definitely more “spiritual” texts, so if self-realization isn't your thing, then you shouldn't give any further interest towards those titles. But for me, it's been a constant interest/pursuit, with a theme of my life being molded around the concepts of spirituality since I was little.

Maybe one day I'll get into all of that topic more, as I've done some crazy stuff in my time, including studying Zen for about 6 years, and even living as a homeless person for a few weeks, as a little experiment brought on by my seeking of a 'spiritual transformation'. I played in a punk rock band for about 12 years as well, and was given the nickname, the “Zen Punk”, as I was often found reading books about consciousness, meditation, and Buddhism, instead of going to after-show parties.

Maybe stories for another day of writing.

---

Through my “don't give a shit” attitude tonight, I was trying to figure out what to eat for dinner. I was craving junk food badly, of course. The bad mindset I was in was feeding into those thoughts and would easily support each other, growing deeper. I wanted nothing else besides bags of chips, fake meats, popcorn and candy, etc., but I knew if I caved I would be pretty upset with myself. It's just not worth it, I've learned so many times.

I was thinking over which genre of food I was interested in – burgers, soups, burritos, casserole, etc – and finally decided that breakfast food sounded wonderful. But, even the vegan versions of breakfast are usually full of oils and fake stuff and processed flours etc., which I've been avoiding for a while now as they are kah-kah poo-poo for your system. But, while browsing around online, I found a recipe from the Forks Over Knives website (fantastic documentary, btw – watch it if you've never seen it. Free on several streaming platforms) in the breakfast section, and it was all entirely whole-food plant-based, meaning there's no processed junk involved (and of course, vegan).

It called for oats, which you ground up into a flour, flaxseed, ground up, a mashed banana, and plant-milk (I have unsweetened vanilla almond milk on hand already). The milk was as “bad” as it would get, really, in terms of “fake” or “processed” – even though I often make my own plant milks. And with this delicious breakfast meal, you can even use fresh fruit to make a fruit topping instead of gunky syrup.

It sounded wonderful to have a freaking pancake feast.

So, that's what we did.

I blended up the oats in my Vitamix, which I always have tons of on-hand (.60/lb at my local groceries bulk section) along with all the other ingredients, and had the batter ready to go in just a couple quick minutes.

We did one test pancake, just to see how it would turn out, and to let me know if I should tweak the recipe in any way – which we added cinnamon, and added more milk to thin it out more. But, otherwise, it was ready to go. We made a bunch of large and thick pancakes, and topped it with some banana purée and blueberry mixture that was made fresh, and bam! – one hell of an incredibly delicious dinner.

The lady loved it. I loved it. And we decided to add it to “THE MENU”, which is what we call the list of foods that we repeatedly have in our normal cycle of meals. Some foods aren't worthy of being added to the menu, and are tossed aside and only brought up again if we're desperate. But, usually, we eat pretty simply, and repeat a lot of the same meals. We love this thick veggie stew that we make, as it's loaded with just about every veggie we love, including potatoes and sweet potatoes, carrots, tofu, multiple beans, quinoa, celery, broccoli, onions, peppers, and more. We'll make a huge batch of it in the Instapot, and it will last us most of a week.

We also love “hashes” of all kinds, where we just throw together whatever ingredients we have on hand and mix it up. Throw it into a bowl and top with hot sauce or something creamy, like a vegan cheese we make from cashews and seasonings. Yum!

“Mexi-bowls” are another favorite, and probably the most popular and frequent thing we have, as Mexican food is just freaking bomb – and so cheap. We do quinoa, multiple beans (black, pinto, refried, etc), a load of whatever fresh veggies we have on hand. We put a warm tortilla down at the bottom of a bowl, and basically add all the ingredients you would to a burrito of your liking. Top it with freshly made salsa and guacamole, and bam, incredible!

Sorry this post has turned into food porn, but, oh well. It's all good stuff.

It's now 7:47 pm. I think I'm going to sign off for tonight and try to do some reading, and maybe watch a movie or something with the lady. I'm not really looking forward to getting back to work again, but, it'll be here before we know it. Until then, I'll try to be present and enjoy the last few hours I have of this weekend.

I hope you all are doing so well!

/mg

mrgr3y at protonmail dot com

// 10:12 am

I have a son that will be 18 at the end of the July. To be honest, I'm celebrating this, but only in a selfish way, mostly. I mean, I'm happy for him to go off and create his own life, his own world, and to live the way he wants to live, and to jump into the deep ends of what appears to be endless creativity and opportunity. Probably only to realize the layers and layers of illusions that society presents and demands that he participates in, and supports in keeping alive.

Or not.

But, mostly, I'm excited to just be done. I've had the beginning stages of that freedom already, for the past year or two, as he got his own car, his own jobs, and has been living pretty independently for some time now. I only see him a couple of times a month, at best, as I've mostly been “the weekend Dad” for most of his life. He's lived with his mother full-time, and his school, friends, and overall life, are found “in that area”. Where my house has been more of a vacation home, where he can come over whenever he wants, enjoys the quiet solitude and peaceful zen-space that I've created, and can refresh a little before going back into the chaos of life.

The last year – and especially the last 6 months or so – he's been coming over less and less, as his responsibilities with work increase. I'm guessing his interest has declined, as well. Perhaps even his overall energy to drive across the city to my house isn't so appealing as it used to be previously. I think I've only seen him once this entire month, and as a typical teenager, he said no more than two words to me – if you would even call them words. I'd call them ape-like grunts that barely conveyed meaning and information.

I learned a while ago to just let things be. I can give my love without requiring him to return anything in a specific way, or even at all. But overall, it seems that I'm entering a new phase of parenting, where the child goes off on his own and begins to really (attempt) to live his own life. I went through it and demanded even more distance and independence from my parents, so, I get it. I encourage it, actually. I'll be supportive in whatever ways I can be.

There is that part of me that is kind of... sad?... about it? Maybe sad isn't the best word, but close enough, I guess. It is hard to watch your little one grow up and go off on their own, and through that process nearly cut you off. I do have a sense of “my entire life for the last 20 years has been all about you, and now you just throw me out!” kind of emotional environment. But, I can be the witness of that, while still consciously being who I want to be throughout that experience. The crummy weather doesn't have to dampen my mood. I can use it however I want and make it a positive. I can still smile even when it's raining, so to speak.

Plus, I can realize how I did things to my parents, and made them go through their own range of emotions and situations, that I probably get to experience now, myself. I think the parenting experience is more a growing lesson of the self, rather than growing another. I've learned more about myself through all of this than anything else. Even just to have those experiences where you go “oh shit, this is what my parents felt like when I did that to them” etc.

I've offered more apologies and gratitude to my parents in the last few years than I ever have before.

I guess I've been observing those emotions and thoughts arise within me for some time now, and have been kind of wondering... what's next?

It's a weird emotional spectrum to go through when you watch your kiddo grow up, and even more intense when they are just... kinda... gone, all of a sudden. You were literally their entire world for so long, and they were so dependent on you for everything. But now, almost out of nowhere, you become this background piece that's put on the shelf, like an old toy that was outgrown, and you begin to collect dust. You observe from your new location in the ever-growing landscape of their mind, and witness their creative life experience take them further away from you. You can't help but feel so proud, while at the same time feeling as though the biggest part of you just intentionally ripped itself from you, and walks away.

It's so beautiful. It truly is so amazing. I think anyone that's been a parent and has gone through this stage can understand it, as well.

I love it. I'm so happy for him. I'm also happy for myself, too. Even with the “sad” feelings that are there, I can still see the beauty in all of it. (Plus, realizing the “sad” feeling is only coming from a place of ego that still wants the attachment, control and identity).

I made it.

He made it.

We did it.

And now I get to watch what he does with himself and his life. I get to observe the magic continue, even if differently than how it has been the last 20 years.

I also get to watch what I do with my own experience. I'm nearing 40 years old, and to be “done” with the parenting part already is a rather wonderful opportunity. I think so, anyway. I have friends that are my same age and have multiple kids under the age of 5, and I think, oh shit, you have so long to go, and when you get to “the end” you'll be old AF. What will you create then? What will you pursue? Who will you be?

Their experience will be beautiful, too.

Everything is beautiful, honestly. There's no one path that is better than the other. No “right” way.

It all, just is, as it is.

Until it is not.

My path is my own, and I'm looking forward to what I can do, who I can be, and the love that I can give to myself, and others.

It's just a little weird during this transition time.

More later...

/mg

mrgr3y at protonmail dot com