You Get Me Closer To God

While reading Henry Miller, I’m always amazed at how he uses sex not as a plot point, but something more akin to a time out. As Miller plods along through his memoir-as-a-novel catalogue – sex is prevalent throughout. Yet, the books aren’t about who he fucked (Cliff Note’s version: everyone), they are more about the thoughts and philosophies that are born from a carnal understanding of the world. Perhaps a more contemporary, a far more succinct, version of this would be Trent Reznor in Nine Inch Nails: “I want to fuck you like an animal….. You get me closer to God.”

The Un-United States of America that we live in today is centered around sex; some people call it religion; some people call it morality; but at the end of the day – it’s all sex. Who you marry. Who controls your body. What closets your trapped in. What pleasures are you depriving yourself from. Miller knew this. He captured these thoughts in so many places, but the passage from Sexus in my recent post makes me draw parallels to today’s world and the world of Miller. How many of us don’t know what we want out of life because we restrain ourselves? How many of us purge the Id from our lives in order to conform? And because of this restraint – in it’s myriad of forms, do we strive to destroy others that aren’t haunted by these phantoms. Are we simply smashing ourselves in this hall of mirrors that we call life?

If Miller can eloquently find the pressure points of human nature in the 1940′s, during the “Greatest Generation,” and they are so mirrored by today’s world – can we even claim progress? The more and more I read thinkers from the past, the more I see how things don’t change. That is both a comforting thought and one that unnerves me to no end….

Goodbye….

This blog was created by me back before he ever thought that he would make any money from the internet. Since the first post (which has long since been hidden), this blog represented who “George” was as a person, his many interests, and his growing career. Change – however – is inevitable. This blog has wrestled with that change over the last few years. Only recently, has it became obvious that I have outgrown it. I still love it in so many ways, I keep telling myself that I will return to it. And perhaps I will. But my creative energies have somewhat shifted. The long form, often emotional narratives are few and far between. They lived concealed in their analog siblings or possibly lay unwritten in the crevices of my imagination. I just can’t simply write them anymore. And so, with that, my artistic expression has shifted toward simpler devices – a Tumblr blog where I spend more time reacting rather than creating – or, twitter, where I capture my daily thoughts and conversations with friends and acquaintances alike.

I want to keep this site alive – which is something I have never done with blogs before. The delete key has erased from the web so many of my thoughts, writings, poetry, emotions, stories, and I couldn’t do that to this blog. It meant to much. Everything I ever did on the web lead me here, and now I want to leave it – both as a memory of who I was, and for the possibility that I will return to it. Please – if you’re so inclined – continue to follow me on the sites listed below. If not, I understand. Thank you for reading….

Tumblr: http://www.georgegsmithjr.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/georgegsmithjr
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/georgegsmithjr

George G Smith Jr
8/7/2011
George G Smith Jr
8/7/2011

Day Two of CoHabitation or (How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb)

So my girlfriend has never read Ulysses. It’s the little things that you learn when you start living with a person. I don’t actually think James Joyce is a harbinger of bad things for our relationship, but I figured it was something to document for posterity. And who knows, maybe we’ll come back to Joyce…

Living with Lanes (that’s what our sitcom would be called) is actually quite easy, which is what I anticipated. There is that fear in the back of my head though. That I’m going to discover something – the infamous “DealBreaker” – and that this is all going to go awry. Of course, the rational part of me realizes that I already know that Lanes is flawed. I’m not expecting perfection. I’m just kind of expecting her, and all her flaws, which I love. Which brings me back to Joyce…

Joyce was blind and near death when he was being interviewed in Switzerland. The interviewer said of his wife, Nora, “She’s been your secretary, your housekeeper, your editor, your muse, your guide, and now she’s your eyes. What do you have to say about that extraordinary intimacy?” And Joyce said, “I would know my wife’s fart in a room full of farts.”

If that’s not loving someone for all their flaws, then I don’t know what is. So, with that, I can stop worrying about some impending deal breaker and just enjoy this cohabitation.

Boulder is for (personal) Startups

This week is Boulder Startup Week. I’m not there. But I sort of wish I was.

Boulder has become my adopted hometown. I love the place like I have loved no other. You can start with the superficial and look at this beautiful picture that I stole from Andrew Hyde:

I can talk about the beauty of the mountains all day long. I can tell you how amazing the farmer’s market was, how walking on Pearl Street was some of the happiest times of my life – I can write about all those things, but that’s not why Boulder will always hold a special place in my heart.

As I wrote in a love note to Boulder, I returned east a changed man. In the startup world, I did what they call a pivot. Like business, doing this in life can be hard. You have to question yourself and find deep, profound answers. You have to not only accept that things change but actually adapt your behavior to accomodate. When I left New York, I was a guy with some sales and marketing experience. I fancied myself a writer. I was obsessed with the internet, my various blogs at the time, and had absolutely no direction. Between the car ride out to Boulder to the trip back, I was able to look at my life in a new way. I was able to find new perspective and pivoted perfectly. Some of it was luck – but luck plays a role in many start ups. A lot of it was hard work and the smashing of personal walls and preconceived notions of how I defined myself. While I was never a member of Boulder’s Start Up community, I spent my time there working on the most important start up: myself.

So, as my friends celebrate all the wonder of Boulder and it’s amazing community, I can’t help but tip my cap to the town that made me who I am today. I get a little misty eyed thinking about it. I haven’t been back to the 3oh!3 since I moved to the city, but I have a feeling that’s going to change sometime in the next six months. I miss my friends, my family (Kezza!), and everything in between. That’s why it’s my adopted hometown….

Dentists Just Want to “Control” Tartar So They Will Always Have A Job

I’m a chronic oversharer…over-sharer…oversharer….um. I talk about my personal life way too much. I always have. Well-researched google searches will probably lead the informed to blogs about various periods of my sex life, my financial life, my lack of sex life, the fact that I hated my friends for a while, stories on old bosses that probably could have used the gym more, that time when me and my friends hit the hobo with a car one summer night, plans for taking over the world and any other random thought I had. I even once had a blog called “The Things I Use” where I just wrote about the things I used. My favorite post from that now defunct and erased blog was my riveting post on Colgate Tartar Control Toothpaste where I wax philosophical on the fact that I don’t trust the Dental Association because they are financially motivated to just “control” tartar and not eradicate it because if they eradicated tartar they would be out of a job. OH – and let’s not forget my conspiracy theory blog……

But a funny thing happened along the way. I fell in love. Hard. And I realized that my life isn’t exactly just MINE anymore. It was something that I shared with someone. So I realized I couldn’t talk about my sex life anymore. And, because one of the strongest parts of my relationship is the fact that we can tell each other anything – I felt the desire to write emo posts about my day decrease less and less because I had someone to confide in. So, my blog was destroyed. I didn’t even know what to talk about anymore. I could talk about work but all those unemployed people who spend all day writing about social media and/or marketing always beat me to the punch because..oh, I don’t know I’m busy actually DOING STUFF – so I couldn’t get to that either. I tried writing about various other subjects too. I even went the self-improvement route for a while. Nothing was sticking. I was stuck in a rut.

But now, I’ve decided to fuck it. The only thing I really like writing about is myself. And now that I’m moving in with the love of my life, very rarely will she not know my inner-most thoughts before all of you (and while she loves me completely, most of what I consider riveting and interesting barely causes her to bat an eyelash) so I can not fear that she’s going to read my blog and be like “Really, George? Really?.” And frankly, while my life is pretty mundane and boring of late, I feel that it’s worth sharing. So – be on the lookout for a little bit more raw George. A little bit less editing. A glimpse inside my life (and inside my iPhone). I hope you’re ready for it.

Okay, So Maybe I Haven’t Really Written Anything Lately…

Watching Elizabeth Gilbert say, “It’s exceedingly likely that my greatest success is behind me” makes one think about where we stand in the world. Here I am, about a half year after my 30th birthday, pondering my future.

From a career perspective, my best days are in front of me. I join an innovative Fortune 50 company that are looking to tap my expertise and continue doing fun, exciting things for years to come. And the amazing thing is that I’m probably creating more things than I ever had before. I’m just in a different stage of creation than I ever was before. Instead of being the writer, I am more of a conductor. And while I still write from time to time – I spend more of my cognitive energies attempting to get others to compose things for me. It’s a new perspective; one that I attack with gusto even if I miss being down with pen and paper.

I guess that’s the sad part. My journals – like the one pictured above – spawned websites which begat this blog, and while many of my writers have been dispersed in to the ether of the internet – I can’t help but wonder what happened to that drive to journal. I haven’t written anything in a while. And while the reasons for that are a mixtures of excuses, ultimately they are all just conjugations of the word “busy.” And while I sit here on the internet imbibing content constantly, I feel paralyzed and unable to put pen to paper. To organize my thoughts in such a permanent way with ink. I used to tell people that I wanted to be a writer. I need to learn to be one again.

Chris Paul and The Lessons of Nathaniel Jones

A compelling article by Rick Rielly on ESPN.com made me think of my family. I never knew my grandmother. She was murdered when my father was young. I don’t know the story too well – dark family secrets that most would prefer to be left off of blogs and the internet – but I do remember my dad telling me that her murderer died in prison. I was somewhere between 13-16; the exact time frame escaping me because it seemed like such a minor thing. But, looking back on it – it tells a story.

My father wasn’t a young man anymore. He was older – already lost his hair and his belly sticking well beyond the belt loops (to his credit – he lost a lot of weight during the next 10 years or so). The man who murdered the grandmother I never knew died in prison. He spent the rest of his life behind bars. To my family – justice was served. But I know nothing of the story.

I’ve tried to do research but with my last name and few details, I haven’t come up anything. It’s perverse of me – I know – to want to know the details of this. It’s perverse to want to find out the story of someone who stripped the leaves off of my family tree. But it’s the curious side of me. It’s the writer side of me. I just want to find the story.

As I sit here, reading Chris Paul’s story – I wonder if I would have the strength to forgive if I had a relationship with my grandmother. I wonder if I would be curious for a story; if that person was real. Instead, I just hear the click-clack of my MacBook Pro as I type out these meandering thoughts…

Focus

I can’t seem to focus lately. I’m getting by on the things that I need to do, but there is something missing. Something that I feel like I used to have but I don’t anymore. My attention span keeps dwindling and I wonder if I am one of those people who are being destroyed by the internet.

I aim to focus more. The next few months will find me tested – warm weather, new surroundings, new living situations – and I wonder will I find the focus I need to succeed. What do you do to focus? What do you do to drive yourself to get the things that you need done? Let me know in the comments below.

Only Boring People Are Bored

My ex-girlfriend used to say this phrase as she frolicked through life’s mundane adventures with a smile on her face. I found it to be utterly true, and utterly depressing – as I found myself getting bored more and more. Eventually, I got bored with her and bored with an existence that failed to stimulate me.

There came a point where I realized that there is a flaw with this logic. Boredom isn’t a bad thing. Boredom is a catalyst for change. Boredom inspires perspiration, innovation, creation. If it wasn’t for boredom, the status quo would simply stay quo. Since I came to that realization, I’ve learned to embrace the boring that comes from occasional bout of boredom. And relish the fact when I’m able to sit still, bored, just long enough to catch a whiff of what the universe is cooking up for me. That taste of inspiration makes up for all the boredom. It makes it all worth it.

(originally blogged on my Tumblr)

Real Winning

#winning

It’s been the topic du jour around the internet these days.  And, like any topic, it’s starting to reach it’s saturation point, our attention is beginning to lapse, and we will go find a new shiny object to play with.  That is the life cycle of internet memes.  It’s a beautiful thing – this permanent temporary nature of our attention – that most of us can’t help but watch and argue as someone publicly unravels.

Take a moment though and read this: 51 Hours Left to Live

Like a meme, it will be just temporary:

On Tuesday I’ll finally end my battle with cancer thanks to Oregon’s Death with dignity act. As part of my preparations I’ve ended my pain medication and am trying to regain what little dignity and clarity I can.  Who I was doesn’t matter. I’m in pain, I’m tired and I’m finally being granted a small shred of respect. Feel free to AMA if you’re so inclined.

The responses shine as what true #winning is about.  The responses are beautiful, motivated by compassion and that fragile thing we all hold close to our hearts: hope.  This anonymous person has thousands of people participating in a eulogy – not to this person’s life, but to life itself.  It’s a sobering counter point to the happenings at Sober Valley Ranch.  This person – who as far as I can tell remains anonymous – has brought together people and has gone on a virtual “world tour” with thousands upon thousands messaging them goodbye wishes and celebrating a singular life and life in general.  There are many moments of tear inducing poignancy – like this one on regrets:

“Yes, one. I bought my high school sweetheart an engagement ring and never gave it to her. Life happened, meaning in was dumb. I went in the military after a dumb fight and…. Yeah just one”

On taking chances:

“My question tonyounwould be this, what long term risk is there in saying hello? I can’t find any. Worst case, is you get some possessive asshole that thinks your hitting on his sister and you get a black eye. Total pain and shame lasts maybe a month. Meeting the right girl though lasts forever.”

On moments:

“Go to Key West Florida. I was there once and saw the sun rise and set in the same day. Was really peaceful and sharing it with her would be more then I deserve”

and on life:

“I would tell him that it’s not living that’s failed him, it’s life. We can always change our life as long as were living. He’s addressing the wrong issue.”

So – while so many of us, myself included, have spent energy focusing on #winning or whatever childish meme was created by a floundering star – there are super novas of beauty getting extinguished around us at this very moment.  I want to take pause and acknowledge this moment and the tears of empathy that let me know that I am alive…