What the fuck is the internet

and what the fuck is success

I have become scared of the outside world. I no longer know what is meant to be growth or protection. Are we meant to push ourselves out of discomfort or is the discomfort signaling that we are meant to protect our boundaries? Am I protecting myself or hiding myself, I keep asking. My intuition cannot tell the difference, it wanes from too many variables for it to be a reliable source. I want something that is definitive, unchanging. I realize though that that does not exist. Besides, what society and spirit say are always contradictory aren’t they? Am I more human or spirit?

Work has a way of resurfacing memories. On my way to a showing one day I pass by the Alief watertower. I remember all the times I told my clients I was from SL when I was actually from Alief. It feels like semantics though, do they really care, do they really need to know that I moved to SL when I was in sixth grade? Alief shaped me, but I don’t think about it often. I wonder how far back our memories go as I am on the Westpark tollway. I wonder how far back we choose to remember. Remembering takes effort.

The other day I passed by George Bush Park. My family and I used to go there and bike ride as a family. It seemed so far away from our house like we were crossing state lines. In reality, it was about 15 minutes away. A giant hill into the sky is all I remember. No edge in sight, I just imagined us free-falling down the other side of the hill. It wasn’t like that of course. Somehow the giant hill flattened out as we drove up it, and all the while I kept wondering when we would reach it.

The overall theme here is I cannot rush myself. I wonder how many of us feel like we are racing against ourselves, against everyone, but mostly against time.

I watched the show The Terror the other day. It's about the expedition Englishmen took to discover the northwest passageway from 1845 to 1848. Historically, everyone who went on that quest vanished into thin air. The author's book and then show was about what he thought might’ve happened given the evidence. In a way, I sometimes wish I was like one of those sailors on the boat. I don’t mean I want to be on a quest to discover a place where indigenous people were already living, nor do I mean I hope to vanish. I mean, like a moving part of something. Some days I think we are all paralyzed by ambition. I wonder about success. I wonder if I am pushing myself hard enough. I wonder about my faint dreams buzzing in the back of my head. Faint dreams of writing articles and things. I wonder if I am capable of doing it. I wonder if it matters, if it's what I really want. I wonder if money is the thing stopping me or is it time. I wonder if everyone is born with ambitions or are they learned? Am I too complacent? Am I too okay with things always being as they are?

-

Everything is starting to resemble each other. The past is in the future, I’m afraid. The 8-year cycle I heard an astrologer talk about keeps circling in my head. Something about the times right now being both cyclical and something we’ve never experienced, which sort of just sounds like all of human life to me. Where was I in 2017? What was I doing? What state of mind was I in?

The movies and shows I watch show a direct reflection of our political world, and our world in general. It is silly to write the word political, the world is always political. Everything gets broken down into a single atom. But simplifying does not always do us any good. In a way, it dismisses the nuances that make something. I am still for some reason disturbed after watching the show The Terror. Disturbed by the evil it represented. It was baseless. Serving only the individual, a single individual, so they can live out their wants. Destroying everything to get it. The scene at the end has stayed with me. What some are willing to do for power, for the mere thought of power. Everything is starting to fall in on itself and I don’t know where I fit anymore.

I read poetry out loud to feel something.

—

I read an article by Coco Mocoe, who I found originally on TikTok. Her article was an argument for being an industry plant and debunking the conspiracy around it. It was inspirational with tips on how to achieve it, which included repetition—finding something that you can repeat every day so audiences can remember you (think of Ariana Grande’s ponytail.) She also said to keep at it for 7+ years and eventually, the timing will be right. It did the trick of making me think I too could get “discovered” that my time is just around the corner. And while this may be true for some, there is also a host of other factors that don’t get talked about enough in someone's success story (mostly money.) The truth is not everyone who does this formula will get discovered. Another truth is that success is not only for the rich and famous. Success is not only for the ones with degrees, with masters and doctorates and accolades. Often when there are no ‘markers’ for success I have had to look closely at my life. At the small details, the small merits of success. Like finishing a book, or trying to. Like starting something new at any age. Like learning to perfect that dish you have seen online. Learning boundaries with family or friends. Learning to say no, or yes. Putting one foot in front of the other.

—

And sometimes success looks like surviving. At the end of the year leading into 2025 Hayden, Gordy, and I went to Tennessee to visit some of his family. We ended up spending most of the days with the horses that live on their farm (as long as the cold permitted us to anyway.) I remember the first time I saw some of the horses on their farm maybe 10, or 12 years ago. I was terrified of their size when I got near them. They had such strong energy of will and strength, that it overwhelmed me. Over the years I have gotten over my fear of them. But this last visit was more of a surrender to them that made me get closer to them. We were burnt out from work, and all of the personal transformations taking place in our life. It was a hard end of the year. But getting to be with the horses was healing. It was the first time I said a whisper in a long time. Like a wish, or a prayer. I was speaking to the horse's souls, hoping they would hear mine. Everything washed away out there. Pain, frustration, anger, despair. The whole world didn’t matter. My hands were frozen, I was carrying at least 3 cameras at a time, and I could see my breath, that's how cold it was, but I didn’t care. At that moment being there, and capturing the horses felt like my purpose.

Which is something I’ve been thinking about lately. Purpose. I never really grappled with the question of what my purpose in life is. There are some people I know whose theme of life is that question. I have always accepted I am here, without it bending me out of shape. But now, for some reason, I keep finding the question in my head. I suppose time is the reason for most things. The natural progression of one's life evolves and questions that were once prevalent in our minds fade and new ones come in its place. It’s a matter of our wants and needs changing as we get older. Or maybe thoughts are cyclical and maybe I was here before, 8 years ago, and 13 years ago too.

And what it feels like is dreaming again. I think I have omitted purpose from my vocabulary the same reason I resented goals. I am afraid of not living up to my dreams. Or maybe I’m afraid of dreaming for fear of it not working out. A lot of this insight was sparked by a podcast Alain de Botton was on called Modern Wisdom. He says we need to be modest to be properly ambitious, “I think it's helpful to think of how hard it is. Because sometimes people get very impatient in their attempts to change things about themselves.” He goes on to say, “The root cause of early despair and early retirement from things is a false picture of what success demands in an area.” I think internet fame and modern success, or at least the highlight reels we see on social media, or being broadcasted on media sites have given us a false picture of time and success. We forget that things take time. There are no shortcuts to this life. And even if there were, would it be as satisfactory? I say this mostly to myself, a whisper even, things take time.

-

Some sort of weight has lifted and I’ve been wondering out loud again, dreaming again, what if I get into politics somehow? What if I do submit works to publications, what if I do try? What if I try to apply to a residency, something I kept on the shelf of dreams because I thought there was no way in hell I would ever win one of those? What if one day I go back to school? What if I make a movie? What if I write something that someone can hold in their hands? What if I ask someone for help to achieve all of this? What if they answer? What if I listen? It's true what they say you know, it's hard to take your own advice. It seems I’ve been telling people for years to have faith in themselves and to stand up for themselves. What will outlast me? Never doing anything for fear, or doing something despite fear?

-

“Ripe with possibilities,” I said to Hayden the other day when we were outside having a beer. We were talking about the change in the air. I was describing what it felt like to me—like it was 2012 again, like when I was going to community college, back when we first met. Maybe it’s because I’ve been driving around that community college a lot recently. Earlier that day, I stood outside of a townhome I was showing and realized it was in front of the exact parking lot I would park in and walk over to French class, English class, and dance class. I was only probably a hundred feet away. The campus has changed now of course. The driveway where Hayden used to pick me up from and drop me off is blocked now—pedestrians only. I remember walking out of class and seeing him in my car with his camera in the passenger seat, a gift to me. The beginning of many doors he has helped me open by realizing myself. That's what I felt then, ripe with possibilities. And despite everything, I feel it now too. It’s there, in glimmers.