The Things That Matter

The tree, perched atop the cliff, with it’s roots sneaking into every crag and crevice. The tree, on that lonesome rock, is finding what it needs to survive and maintain its very being. The tree, with so few goals, lives in a place not hospitable. The tree has the things that matter.

I was thinking earlier, about all the things that I ever wanted. I realized that I have already captured many. Even with the emptiness inside, I have so few goals, and they are fulfilled. My goals are to make my family proud, to learn as much as I can, and to take care of those around me. The truth is, I don’t have to worry about any of these.

My family is already proud, without any accomplishments for me to point to, they are happy and proud for me. Even when I may not be proud myself. Even when they maybe shouldn’t be. Even when they never show it. Even when I do my own thing, instead of what they wanted.

I already know more than many, and that I can be content with. But there is so much more to know. But there is so much more to teach. But there is so much more to share. But there is so much more to create. But there is so much more to enjoy.

Those close to me are secure, even when they or I do not know it. They can care for themselves, and I forget. I will be there to help care for them, and they forget. Others are there, and we forget. Others can be cared for, and we forget.

There is some solace in this acknowledgement. And yet, there is discomfort in these statements. And yet, I stand so lonely while surrounded by so many. And yet, I could do so much more. And yet, I could do so much less. And yet, the path winds all the same – and not at all – along the journey.

I feel the urge to be more sporadic, and yet I am scared because of it. I feel the urge to say more, and yet I wish to speak less. I feel the urge to have enjoyment, and yet the urge to avoid it. I feel the urge to come, and to go.

My ability to enjoy life, has been compromised. And it is by my own accord and not. 2 weeks ago, my grandfather passed away. And with it all the passions I had faded into anger, not at him, God, or anyone else. The anger was all at myself, and my selfish mistakes, I do not have regrets, but I regret those mistakes. I just can’t feel anything else outside of sadness and anger, and have noone to talk to about anything.

(Originally published: August 21st, 2015)

What The Past Holds Is The Future

The past week has been particularly rough, months maybe, and it has left me considering what is most important and what I dream would truly make me happy. Had you asked me a year ago, or maybe even 5, I have achieved many of my goals. And yet…

At the end of the year looking back, I traded the best things in my life, for a dream that seemed sweeter. Tantalized by the possibilities, I turned away from family and friends, the people that made and continue to make me who I am. At the very core of my being, I knew I was making a mistake, but everyone encouraged me to do what I wanted, and so I made my choices. Choices that I do not regret, but choices that were made with imperfect information.

Hindsight, as they say, is 20-20. I would make these mistakes again, but if I knew what would unfold in the closing of the year, I would have fought harder to stay and care for those people and things that made and make life so great. You can’t always hope, pray, or dream that you’ll see them again. If they’re still here, go and see them and embrace them. And if they’re not, remember this, “They’re still here; in our minds, our hearts, and our souls,” and never forget.

The events of yesterday, while all of those thoughts weighed on my mind, come far too close. Had things gone differently, it would have left a hole in my family and the family of my friends. It nearly became the reality of my fears and anguish. And even though I am not a religious man, I can proudly say, “Thank God,” that things didn’t turn out worse. Call it luck if you want, but I will call it a miracle and a sign.

Sleep Well Little Dog

I hate to do this, as it is a negation of my willing absence here. But it is a meaningful moment, that echoes through my body at the moment. It is a need that I must fill for selfish reasons. I’m emotionally empty, and drained but I the tears and the staggered breaths will not end.

Tuesday, February 18th, 2014: About 11PM our dog fell down the open stair into the basement. We don’t know what she was doing that caused her to fall, nobody was downstairs. She didn’t so much as let a single noise out, just a series of loud thumps like someone threw a log down the stairs. When we brought her up stairs, she was dazed for about 10 minutes. We took her to the vet the following day, because there was blood in her urine. All tests came back fine, just some bruised tissue in her hind legs.

Thursday, February 20th, 2014: She was still alive and seemingly on the mend, though still quite and stiff. She went down stairs after I left, and my parents couldn’t find her for a while. My stepfather brought her upstairs and she was week, and laid on the couch with him for a few hours. About 2:30PM she evacuated her bladder, beside him; almost undoubtedly this was the moment she passed, in her sleep and without suffering. He picked her limp body up, and took her to the vet where they massaged her heart and gave her a shot of adrenaline, but it was too late by then. So he asked them to do an autopsy to see what caused it. She had bruised tissue on her kidneys, bladder, and hind legs, but the cause appears to have been a bloodclot that passed to her heart.

(sorry for editting after this, I can’t see through the tears that have overwhelmed my eyes)

When I first saw her, I was disappointed, we already had dogs, and I didn’t feel we needed anymore. It was the day I came home from college, my mother had brought her along, cause she didn’t have anyone to watch her. She was just a little white fluffball, with a mean streak. She was so energetic, though less so recently as she aged. After a bath she would run up and down the halls, and jump on my bed, where I’d catch her in the blankets, and she’d nip at my hands. I’d be acting like there was another dog nipping at her and she’d nip right back, then I’d uncover her and she’d jump right at me and give me kisses.

She was a perfect dog, energetic, but not exhaustingly sow, playful but not mean, though she was constantly growling at any noise she heard. It’s going to be much too quite with her gone. And I’m going to miss her comfort, whenever someone passed away or I was too stressed by the situations around me, I’d grab her and cuddle. Just another heartbeat close to mine. She was the sanity I needed when I no longer had sanity myself. She would be my comfort in times such as these, so now this moment is the most uncomfortable I’ve had in a long time.

She will be missed, and I knew I loved her without letting her go. It was much too soon, she was only 6. And that it was an accident hurts, one that we don’t know what happened, more than anything.

Rest in Peace Curly Sue. Rest in Peace. March 2008 – February 20th, 2014

P.S. – In regard to my absence, I had planned to move the blog, but I’ve just haven’t had time. And when I’ve wanted to post, it’s mostly been negative points, such as this, which isn’t what I wanted to aim for. It was always meant to be a point of philosophy, growth, and optimism. Sadly, this post was too much and I needed to share, for my own posterity.

When The Storm Comes

When the storm comes, do not flee, instead row forth out to sea, past the breakers, further than what once the eye had seen.

You shall be running, not from, but directly toward the beast within. Fear not your fate, ’tis for you to bend and not to break in the gale and tide.

Bearing the brunt of the tempest, charging forth against the waves, a beating they may give but it is for you to take.

And once you have challenged the beast, you will be met in the face with either glory or failure. With either you shall carry a shroud of serenity.

Serenity of knowing. Knowing that you had headed in the other direction of ordinary men. You challenged fate itself.

Letter to Myself: Discouragement And The “Sad” Art Of Never Finishing

Dear James,

Over the past 4-5 years, you’ve worked on roughly that many major projects, but have never taken any further than a prototype. The various reasons, of which there are many, range from, lack of domain knowledge to similar, but very different products, but always because you choose to walk away in discouragement. Over the past 6 months or so, I’ve seen a variation of these items, and while they might not be verified successes, yet; they have seen plenty of success among the press, imagine what would have been thought years ago.This is my personal appeal to you to stop getting discouraged, because you need to finish the shit you start.

You may not feel like there is room for your ideas anymore, but if you never finish, you’ll never know the success, or gratification of just finishing the job. Here are a few tips of advice for you, to help keep you from getting discouraged.

First of market, is rarely the best. The goal is to be a close second, that uses the knowledge garnered from the prior groups successes and failures.

You’ll never be  as ignorant and stupid as you are today.

Don’t worry about getting everything perfect — I know how hard  this is for you — there is no need to get it perfect the first time right. Even if you want to believe, “a job isn’t worth doing if the job isn’t done right,” remember that you just need to get the initial job done, and then get it right; do it properly, but not perfectly.

Look back at all the failures, and make some changes, in how you do things, never be afraid to call yourself out, it’s as important as making sure others call you out.

Overall, I just want to repeat what someone once told me, “If I were your age, I wouldn’t take relationships too seriously, and I’d be looking for I what really want. You are at the age everyone would want to be at if they chose. Figure out the person you want to be with and the career you want to have now. Don’t wait, because within the next five years you can get whatever you want if you try.” ~ C. W. The fact is the matter, even if you never make it to where you wanted to go you’ll have experienced a life worth looking back on. Just fucking finish.


James Fuller

I plan on collecting and writing about my failed projects, over the next few weeks.

Another Year, Now With Beer

I’ve been thinking about a lot about where I’m heading  — nowhere. Here I am, 21, another year older — yet, again — and nothing has changed. How can you spend 365 days and nothing to show for it?

It seems to me, that I need to figure out how to figure out what specifically I enjoy, and focus upon it. I don’t know what I like, I’m not the same colorful boy I used to be, at some point I’ve gone gray. Everyday is the same, nothing changes, it’s the same stories, the same fights,and the same discussions; the only thing that is different is the characters.

I’ve been blogging for just over four years, July 27, 2006. I’ve been writing stuff on The Innovationist, for almost two and a half, March 11, 2008. Finally, reaching my 100th post — this is it — and realizing that my spirit died about a year ago. I’m not passionate about what I write here anymore, the majority of posts in 2010 have been about me.

I never meant for this to be about me, I meant for it to be about the ideas; about the thoughts; about the change. Social media, that requires quick, stirring remarks, and rewards open-ended, low-intellect hype, to promote discussion and other forms of interaction, has proven less than productive, but plenty entertaining. This doesn’t mean that I think the people weren’t worth it, quite the contrary, but it does mean I think I need to cut back. I need to go back to what I was focused on originally, when I had momentum in my life.

I need to step back into the real world, as last night showed me. I had the best time at an impromptu HS reunion. We all graduated in ’07 and have gone separate directions in those 3 years, not that we were the closest of friends, which made it even more like a reunion. We walk our own paths, but somehow managed to come back around to the same places. I’ll always have the memories, but I need to make more.

Learning To Walk Away

So I had a nice Father’s Day chat, with one of my dad’s best friends, about life, regret, and father-son relationships. This is my attempt to reassemble and preserve the quotes from that discussion. I won’t expound on the messages that I received, because they are meaningful in interpretation.

Regret is an after-thought, it won’t help you change the decisions you made; just walk away from it.

Anybody who knows what they want to be is lying.

You’ve got brains, and you have a thumb.

Today, you’re twenty. Tomorrow you’ll be thirty, and the next day you’ll be forty.

I’ve also had talks with my Aunt and Grandmother, more recently, about various life topics, and here are some of the things I’ve walked away from in those conversations.

The person you have to provide for, first and foremost, is yourself and your children.

No one understands, your sentimental values, unless they experienced or know why there is sentimental value.

You have to live for you, you can’t always take care of others; the stress will kill you. Make it a goal to get away and have periods of enjoyment, even if only short.

Things can change in a heartbeat, for better and worse, but we’ll get by, and we’ll be there in times of need.

You can bend, and you can break, but never fake.

On a closing note, things are looking ok for now, compared to a few months ago. I have a temporary job, and working on several design projects, so financially, I’m stable, or near so. I’m doing fine physically, and looking at going back to school, though I hate to say it.

I hope that everyone who reads this is doing fine, and enjoying life, as that seems to be the key.