Sunday, May 27, 2018

Know Thyself (Part 2)

*Disclaimer: The next few posts that start with the title “Know Thyself” will make the reader think the author is depressed or cynical, but that is not the case. Upon examination, the author was found not to be depressed, but rather, just an idiot. The following posts of the same title are excerpts from the essay: “Life: The Uncertain Certainty or (Living without Knowing Myself)”. Enjoy.


-Rodolfo Perez (The fucking author)

As a young boy growing up on a not so nice part of Joliet Illinois, I had a much-skewed representation of love, especially in regards to the events that would transpire within my community. I remember it being a cold October night, just a few days before Halloween. I was eight years old. I was outside in my backyard, sitting down on the patio steps with no particular task. No one was home, as my parents often had to work well into the evening during those days of financial struggle, and my siblings were at a school Halloween celebration. It did not take long before that familiar feeling of loneliness began to wash over me. I mistook this feeling of dread and loneliness for the physical response to the cold October air. I sat out there, looking to the sky, when I heard a crash coming from my neighbor’s house. I heard one voice, screaming obscenities, and another, barking insults back at the voice. Their front door swung open, and the loud creak of the door fringes seemingly forced me to look down in front of me. My neighbor, let us call him Raul, came walking out rather briskly, followed by his wife, we will call her Pamela. She was screaming at him something among the lines of “Go Ahead! Go drink with your friends! It’s not like you have a family to take care of!” He swore a few more times at her and got into his car, and drove away. Now, Raul and Pamela, until this moment, seemed like quite a happy couple. They were married, they had two children, both of which excelled in school, and they both had jobs that provided them with some type of livable income. I had seen my parents argue before, but neither of them ever left the house, much less over a night out with their friends. I had seen my fair share of arguments, fights, and even a killing in one case, but something about this scene shook me, and a question came to me. What is love? Now, as a child, the question seemed to have such a simple answer, but to this day, I still go back to that moment. Seeing Pamela so angry with the man she had been married with for well over a decade, and seeing her sobbing on her porch steps as he drove away, I will never get that out of my mind. Religion tells me to love everyone, even those I do not want to love, and many schools of thought teach to love people unconditionally, but I argue that by doing that, we are dulling the intensity an emotion like love brings. Love is something precious, something that is limited in a sense. If one is to love everyone unconditionally, how are we supposed to distinguish whether or not we have any authenticity in regards to caring about an individual? I often think, in regards to this question, if I love everyone equally and unconditionally, how am I supposed to choose someone to marry, or show my family how much they mean to me, or make sure I am not leaving an individual out of my love? Because of this question, I have been accused of not showing I care, or that I do not show I care more about certain things over others. I suppose at one point I convinced myself that I had a mindset much like Walt Whitman had during the time in which he would make his rounds around the army hospitals. I told myself that, like Whitman, I thought, “That could be me” and because of this, I would try my best to appeal to everyone else’s needs. Now I see that cannot be the case, for even in providing all I can for the people around me, I still have this aching sense of alienation from human emotion, and that often leads to loneliness. As I reflect on the deeds I do for people, whether they be big or small, I question whether I am doing it out of love, or simply for the sake of doing it. I do not give money to the homeless man because I love him; I just do it for the sake of doing it. I do not lend a hand for someone who has fallen (in a figurative or literal sense) because I love him or her; I lend a hand because I have a hand to lend.

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Beaten Soliders


Beaten Soliders
By: Rodolfo Perez

We are soldiers in the war against the enemy of time.
We live in the moments of the day to day,
Yet make every attempt to rebel against the forces which dictate our past, present,
And future.
Like waves of the ocean that never end,
We are forever tossed about,
Breaking against the coast of reality.
But we rise up,
Upon a new dawn,
And go against the currents,
Hoping, wishing, and forever desiring,
That one day the waves will stop coming.

Friday, May 18, 2018

Nothing to do with You, Everything to do with Me


*Read bracketed text for longer version*

[Before I begin, I want to thank a few people. I want to thank first and foremost, those of you reading this. Without your support for this project, I do not believe I would be able to have the opportunity to gain a, although small, meaningful influence on not just the internet, but the city I currently live in. I cannot say how grateful I am for every reader, new and old, I come across or hear from. Along with the readers, I would not be able to continue this project without the help of some very talented contributors and people who overall give good insight into projects I take up, as well as interests I pursue during my time in college. I want to thank contributors Andrew Gabl, Jessica Cherrington, Christopher Ocean, Giselle Magana, and many more. Beyond those who have contributed to Me Talking, I have to thank those who have offered me their time and have given me the experiences that have reflected on my work so far. People like Eric Ruiz, Mollie Rockafellow, Johnathan Marquardt, Ysandra Ortiz, David Masciotra, as well as my family, have all given me a new perspective on things, and have helped me polish my ideas as well as my passions in the arts as well as science. Thank you all so much.]
In the span of about six months, I have experienced a lot. Over the course of six months, I have gone from an uninspired college kid with a very hedonistic view on life, to an emerging school leader, an “award winning” radio show co-host, as well as a student looking to not only excel in my major, but to excel and make a mark on other areas of life outside the one I am looking to get into. I like to believe I have started to grow out of such an immature outlook I had in years past, as I look not to the pleasures of life, but I look to the moments of misunderstanding, and the moments of suffering for a sense of living. Over the past six months, I have lost a lot of people. Whether it be through death, breakup, or moving away, I have lost some of the most interesting, influential, beautiful people I have ever had the opportunity to know and care about, even if it were for just a moment. A lot of the time throughout these past six months, I have really began to analyze the emotions I carry within myself, and I have found that the more I reflect on why I feel the way I do towards certain people or specific ideas, the more I realize I have not truly ever “felt” anything. [I used to say I hated things for just being the way they are, but I now think I have never hated anything or anyone, nor do I hate anyone currently. I believe I have loved and have been loved in my past, but I question what love really is. I think there are spots of time in my life where I think I was happy, or angry, or sad, or tired, or content, or comfortable, or even uncomfortable, but upon reflection, I find I have not felt any of those things over these past six months.] I feel as though I am floating above myself, and that I am just spectating myself doing these things. Although one could say I am making a name for myself, at least locally or at college, there is an emptiness that hides behind these “accomplishments”. I usually am the one who has the right thing to say, and the right way to create a resolution to many people’s problems, but I find that in all honesty, I am quite uncertain on my approach to the life I have been experiencing over the past six months. I find that no amount of distraction or work will hide the fact that at the moment, I am struggling and suffering to discover who I am, and I am confused and questioning the foundation I have based my entire life upon. I have always been taught to care, and to help those who have less than I do, and I still try my best to do “the greater good” for people, but I find that while I have not ceased to do “the greater good” I do not feel anything towards these things I do or the people I “help”.
            After speaking to several different people, I believe it would be in the best interests of my emotional state as well as my creative state to go away for a while, do some travelling, and sort myself out. I need to discover the source of my problems, and try to find a way out of the “spectator” feeling I have had over the past six months. It is either finding a way out of this lull, or learn to embrace it. This has nothing to do with any of you, and it has everything to do with me. I will continue to post regularly, and I will be back.

Thank you.
-Rodolfo Perez

Sunday, May 13, 2018

Know Thyself (Part 1)


*Disclaimer: The next few posts that start with the title “Know Thyself” will make the reader think the author is depressed or cynical, but that is not the case. Upon examination, the author was found not to be depressed, but rather, just an idiot. The following posts of the same title are excerpts from the essay: “Life: The Uncertain Certainty or (Living without Knowing Myself)”. Enjoy.
-Rodolfo Perez (The fucking author)


In my entire life up to this point, I believe one particular experience will always be etched into my memory. This certain encounter occurred on a Friday night in Guanajuato City in the summer of ‘17. I was 18 years old. My family had taken trips around Mexico before, but this was the first trip I had gone on in a while. It was a chilly night (by Mexico’s standards) and the majority of my family was scattered throughout the vacation home, as well as the shops in the nearby streets around the house that were very much alive in those evenings. I stood on the rooftop terrace, looked over the edge of the grand building, and admired the sights and sounds the city offered to me. I closed my eyes for a moment and let my mind wander. I remember the faint sounds of serenades playing in the streets below, only their sounds muffled by the sound of wind rushing past my ear. I realized that in this moment, I was completely alone. I felt like a ghost, floating above the city. I was watching them, but not a soul could see me. I was listening to the lives occurring below me, but I stayed quiet. To quote Fitzgerald, “I was within, and without”. I felt lonely. In that moment, upon reflection, I started to think about who I really am. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and expected some voice within me to speak and exclaim my role, my persona, my duty in life, something; but nothing came. I heard nothing, I stayed quiet for a while longer, and I waited for my definition. A fairly long period of time must have passed, for my moment of “meditation” was interrupted by my father, who came up to the terrace, telling me to come downstairs. I always thought I had a structured set of emotions in my life. I thought if there was one thing I could depend on, it would be the ability to express things like anger, happiness, hate, despair, sadness, and envy. However, after taking a step back, and viewing the world through the perspective of someone who is within and without, I find that I am lacking in a serious amount of genuine emotion. I am lacking in not just feeling love, but in hate as well. I do not feel sad, but I do not feel happy either. I find that I am in a state of suspension with the world that makes me question who I really am, and whether or I not I really am anyone.

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

UPDATE #24


Hello everyone and welcome to Me Talking. I have been meaning to take some time to update all of you on some events that have transpired since my last update-type of post. For one, this semester of university is finally finished, meaning I am now officially a sophomore. It feels good to finally say I am a sophomore in college. It sounds much better than “I’m a freshman” that’s for sure. Now all I have to do is send the many “Look at me now BITCH” emails to the many people on my list who lost faith in me (so check your inbox!). In all seriousness though, I am rooting for all of you who are taking finals in the coming weeks, and all of you who are awaiting your final report cards to come in. I am planning on doing a couple of projects over the summer which will be up on this website as well as YouTube, so if you are interested, make sure you check those out. I am also working with some local talent in designing some commodities for all who embody certain attributes. I will not speak too much on it, for I don’t want to give anything away. Those are just a few, extremely vague things on the horizon this summer, along with, of course, only the most authentic content the internet has to offer. With that being said, I hope you all enjoy the warm weather, all those who are entering the summer season, and I will be posting soon.
-Rodolfo Perez, Editor

Side note: Apparently I am getting a lot of reads from Russia, which I find to be very interesting. So, if you are from the motherland, cпасибо за то, что вы читаете товарищей!


Wednesday, April 4, 2018

There Are No Cameras Here (UPDATE #23)


Hello everyone and welcome to another edition of Me Talking. I suppose I should start by explaining my absence for the past couple of months. As many of you know by now, I am attending university, and have found myself quite busy with work both inside and outside of my classes. I know this is no excuse, but I am simply explaining my lack of posting. The good news, for me at least, is that I am only a month away from the end of the semester. I mean that literally! May 4th is the last day of the semester, and I will have completed my freshman year. Even thinking about it makes me feel good you know? I know the majority of my problems won’t vanish as quickly as this second semester will, but I’d like to think the few things that distract me from my worries will be the only things I can occupy my time with. I was speaking to one of my peers the other night. We were relaxing after what felt like an eternity of a study break. As we were taking a break, silently taking the time to just be silent and not think about the mountains of material we just spent hours covering, my peer broke the silence between us.
“College is truly the best time, and the worst time.” They said.

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

“I mean, look at us. Here we are, two people who haven’t the slightest clue what’s going to happen tomorrow or the next day, or in the next 20 years, willfully paying thousands of dollars a year just to stress out, and tear our social lives and mental health apart.”

“Well you shouldn’t think that way. Think of it as preparation for the real world.”

My peer did not say anything.


“Like, I embrace the stress school gives me. I don’t like getting up early after staying up the majority of night, only to repeat the same process the next day, but I know that sometimes, that’s what life is about, I guess.”

Now both of us were silent. After about a minute or so, the conversation continued.

“When I’m at work, I think about doing my job for the rest of my life, and I just can’t see myself doing that. I think that’s why I work. It serves as a reminder for the alternative reality I can live if I fuck up in college. It’s almost like I’m in an alternate dimension all together.” I said.

“That’s what scares me a lot of the time. It’s like there is no way out of this. You either work like shit for the rest of your life, constantly worrying about bills because you chose to get a shitty job, or, you come here for four years, tear your hair out, become a communist, and still not have any type of security for the future.”

Upon saying this, my fellow peer took put their phone and began to tap around, checking their social media.

“They can’t take away the knowledge you acquired.” I said.

“I guess not, but it seems like this world cares more about the paper in your wallet, or the paper you acquired at the end of all this, rather than the ‘knowledge’ you speak of.”

“That’s true, but I think I’d rather be unsuccessful with a high level of intelligence rather than some bum with a diploma or a rich man with no education.” I said.

They put their phone away.

“I don’t know Rodolfo, from what I’ve seen, this world gets the best of us instead of us getting the best of the world.” They said.

I looked at my watch. It was a quarter past nine.

“I have to go.”

“Alright, sounds good.” They said.

“I’ll see you around.” I said.

“It’s a small school I’m sure you will.”

We said goodbye. I packed up my books. As I was walking to my car, I could not help but look up at the stars. Somewhere in the deep confines of space, there has to be some race of intelligent life. I wonder if they have the same problems out there, as we do in here. I drove home that night, ate a late supper, and studied some more.



Thursday, February 15, 2018

No One Cares

The Worst Guy
By: Rodolfo Perez

I don’t care.
As a matter of fact, I couldn’t stand to care more.
For what do I have to gain?
Other than plain, vain attempts to find an infinity
In a finite reality.
To find perfection in the imperfect.
To find peace in a war zone,
Destroyed by Love
And misunderstanding.
All this is done just to be understood.
For the fight for peace will continue,
Perfection will be found.
It has to be found
Right?
Above all the complex tactics,
And uncomfortable complications,
Infinity will be found.
I have everything to benefit from giving a shit.
I still care.


P.E.N.T.C.I.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

That 2017 Song Stuck in My Head



That one stuck song, one of abstract notes with melodic undertones. The whisper of certain gravity heard when the silence played within the echoes of its day. They arose. Every day with the sense of a lullaby, walking into a new world that felt secure and alive with rhythm. As days passed, the circles of notes slowed eased its mark under their eyes. The song replayed again and again, slowly turning into a tormented music box that would not fall quiet. 

Its humans strained, listening to the meaning of its whisper. The quickness of the day and the noise of the world made the effort almost impossible. The songs of others became louder and louder, until their own song got drowned within the boom. The notes became jumbled and the boom of the bass soon kept them up. The drum of their hearts became softer and the rhythm of the breath became weaker.

The songs stuck in their heads were silenced. The song of life became jumbled. There was too much too listen to and yet there was nothing at all. Confusion was the new director of its master work. Truth was its ailing assistance, slowly trying to build strength. Rearrangement of cognition and emotions were the innovators of change, slowly stepping into place. Slowly allowing new music to come along. The listeners learned, understanding the old song of confusion were truly tangled trails of clarity. With that once said, the song stuck in their heads began taking new rhythm.
The music continued.