the good fortune complex

Early morning thoughts after a sleepless night:

For a lot of my life, I've lived through this tunneled concept of reality in which I'm one of the more naturally fortunate people on the world. I've been draped in blessings, and positive circumstances from day one; naturally, I had kind of grown into this beatific way of living-- thinking everything that was handed to me was deserved by me, and anything not granted to me was mine to go get. I never really took time to realize all the work going on behind the scenes that truly provided me with these gifts, and this great life. The toils of my mom and dad, the instructions and guidance of my teachers; the good words from my friends. I've been very humbled lately by some interpersonal, and intrapersonal conflicts. I don't want to elaborate on too much, but I've began to view everything in a different light, and have moved away from those esoteric feelings and towards a newer gratitude and motivational drive.

So here's a few parting words:

You can either face the world as though it owes you something, or you can realize that there are a million people chasing the same thing you desire, and you can put in the work to acquire what it is that you want. One's will is a powerful thing when it's used to it's fullest.

Have a good weekend everybody,

-Jack

Permanence?

Last night, after my final episode of "How I Met Your Mother," I took a pee, brushed my teeth, and climbed up into my loft. For the first time in about a year, I felt genuine homesickness. Nothing really provoked it, nothing really warranted it, and I'm not totally sure what it's significance was.

I'd be lying if I said I'm totally thrilled about being up in Moorhead. But, I've managed to stay busy enough to trick my mind into not caring. When my mom was visiting for parent weekend last Friday, I brought up the prospect of a transfer. We had a similar talk last year, resulting in a similar response to the one I got again.

"Jack, I just don't want you to transfer for the wrong reasons."

Touche.

But, after the weird homesick feeling I had last night, I'm starting to think... what would be considered an appropriate reason for wanting to transfer?

To be honest, home is awesome. Transferring to the U would make college one of the greatest experiences in my life; I have no doubt. My friends back home that are going to school in the cities are awesome, the U is extremely renowned for their business programs, and the... girls are hot (yeah, that last reason sounds dumb as I type it, too, but hey, I'm a guy).

I guess the reason I haven't been more active about pursuing this transfer is because I hate to feel like I'm quitting. "When times get tough, the tough get going," no? But at the same time, I need to be aware that I ALWAYS have options; no situation should ever be looked at is permanent and unchangeable.

I realize that this post almost directly negates everything I wrote about in the post below; but hey, I'm human--we're built on irony and contradictions.

When I close my eyes and envision where I'll be six months from now, I can't come to a definitive conclusion.

I don't know if you can pinpoint a moral to grasp from this post, but I guess, if any, it'd be to not limit yourself. Don't let your stubbornness compensate for too much of your happiness.

Whether I stay a Cobber, or turn Gopher, I don't know. But I do know that God is gonna put me on the right path, either way... so I'm chill.

Happy Tuesday sluts,

-Jack

A conversation with my german prof

Sorry for my absence from the blog this past month; More has gone on in my life that I could even begin to fill you in on, so I'll skip the redundancy of trying to summarize the ups and downs. Instead, I'll short cut to a conversation I had with my German professor this afternoon that put it all in perspective...

Ever since returning to Concordia, I've been in a worse mood. Transitioning from the euphoria of a great summer to a bland environment where drama is as abundant as the cornfields, it's no wonder how my tweets have seemed a little melancholy lately. Apparently, that attitude has also made an appearance into the class room.

My German professor, asked me to come in and talk to her one-on-one today (every teen boy's fantasy, right?). I was skeptical as to what her insistence on a conversation regarded. I have an A in the class, and didn't think my behavior--besides the occassional sexual german remarks--was noteworthy enough to validate the need for a meeting. The conversation was a lot more positive than I could have expected; but it was also a call to action.

She told me that I'm one of the brightest students she's ever come across at Concordia (granted, the german classrooms are sparcer than the presence of body fat on Jack Frederickson). She said I'm a leader--whether I accept that role or not--and need to spread my talents to a lot more facets than I currently am. She said I have the power to make an indent on this campus, and in the community, and I need to be more aware of that and not waste my potential and opportunities.

"Damn, that's deep for a Friday afternoon, Frau," I replied.

But, she's right.

As my mom's always told me, the level of difficulty involved in coping with any situation in life is only as prevalent as I make it. Admittedly, I've been walking around campus the first month of this school year with my ear buds in, eyes down on the pavement, and an aura of discontent surrounding me. As opposed to looking at every situation in life as temporary, I need to become passionate about altering the outcome of every trial I'm handed. I need to take on the role as a leader, and feel more comfortable changing lives around me.

Taking a break from my normal, humble self-- I have a lot of talents. I'm an average athlete, decent student, but I'd like to think I'm capable of being a role model for a lot of people.

We all have a calling; sometimes we just need to hear someone else validate it. The sun's shining, my folks are in town, and I'm feeling happy. Today may just be the start of a new era. I'm excited

-Jack

Nostalgic Bike Rides

I pulled out my bike today. Didn't feel like driving a car around; some sort of mid-teens crisis, maybe. The last time I had ridden on that bike was probably April of sophomore year in high school. Over the last three and a half years, I think the possession of a car has accompanied a certain freedom and independence. It has also commemorated a divergence from certain people in my life; I've been able to travel farther.

In middle school, all of my friends HAD to be within about a two mile radius of my house. Otherwise, it was simply unfeasible to maintain a relationship with them; especially in the summer months. I loved summer in my early teen years. I would spend most mornings mowing my neighbors' lawns, then using the money to go down to the neighborhood CVS and buy some candy or pushups (those fucking awesome orange-flavored ice cream treats they always passed out at the last day of soccer games as kids). In the afternoons, I'd ride my bike over to Ben or Matt's house, wake them up, and head over to a nearby girl's place for the day. There was this girl I was convinced I was in love with. She introduced me to the song "Fix You" by Coldplay, and it instantly became my most-listened-to song on my iPod. The memory of her will forever be the summer afternoons I biked over to her house. Part of me still thinks I have feelings for her; that's the child in me, though.

I'm a much taller, stronger, wealthier person now than I was five years ago. Yet, emotionally, I don't think much has changed. Especially as I ride that bike around; nostalgia brings me back to the adolescent feelings I thought had been repressed. I'm glad I still have the memories.

Today was a good day. Reaffirmation that any part of my history can be resurrected through thoughts. I like that.

-Jack

move

There's not much here for me anymore. 

The floor of my room is scattered with clothes I don't wear; The glove compartment of my car serves as a lackluster photobook of faces I never see anymore.

I sometimes lie about having to work, because I'd rather stay at home and watch a movie; I don't want people to plead with me, because I can't say "no" as easily as I used to.

There's not really any love interests for me back home; only girls that I'm physically attracted to. 

There's a handful of kids whom I can't stand.

I've gotten through 5 ENTIRE TV series on Netflix since returning from school in May. I'm clearly bored.

I find myself clinging to a lot of vices; finding solace in a routine that I don't even find enjoyable. It's just... routine. 

I make too much music.

I officially have nine days left of residence in Eagan. Next summer I'll be staying up at school; hopefully getting an internship so I can do something FUCKING useful to give back to this annoying ass society. I keep lusting more and more independence in my life; I think that's a sign of some sort. I don't know, though.

I love words. It's cool... I started out this blogpost by looking at my empty laundry basket, and by the end of this post you're going to think I'm a cryptic, self-loathing douche. That's fine though, most of you are temporary. The good ones will stay; they know who they are.

Two years and nine months from now I will have graduated college. I will be packing up my car, and heading to California. If I have a friend in the passenger seat, that'd be dope. If I don't, that's alright. I'm gonna make something of my life. I'm pumped for that.

I will probably come back to Minnesota during Christmas time, spend it with my lovely mother and hopefully-less-anal dad. I love my family.

I think it's time to move on; I feel like Red at the end of Shawshank. Now go back and read this post in a Morgan Freeman voice.

-Jack

"Creative Rec" Prelude

Thomas Lake Mixtape was a flop. If you don't know what I'm talking about, that only validates my point.

After numerous recording equipment and morale issues, I had finally found resolve about a month ago. I drafted nine songs, found nine TREMENDOUS instrumentals, and mixed myself a new tape within three weeks. I'm really proud of "Creative Rec" for what it is; and I think you guys will find it palatable too. Here's the thing though...

When I dropped my first tape Senior Year of high school, I had ZERO expectations. The reaction to that tape eradicated any doubt that I had about my content matter, and lyricism. You guys showed me a massive amount of love and I was taken aback. I think a lot of people think this Modest-Jack thing is just a facade; it's truly not. I DON'T expect much. So to see that kind of acclaim for something that was a quasi-demo for me was awesome. Kinesis received love from those who heard it. How To Make it In America got up to number 2 Mixtape of it's release day on HotNewHipHop.com. Since then, I've felt a loss of interest amongst fans/listeners/critics. Everything has been really under the radar, which is OK with me, but I've made a lot of adjustment.

I've finally found my purpose with music. I don't wanna be the shit you listen to when you're getting shitfaced at some party; i'll save that for your other white rappers. I don't even wanna be seen as a rapper. I wanna make music; non-genre, non-label, non-race MUSIC. I want to be what you listen to the day after a party; when you're hungover and seeking solace. I want listeners to be able to empathize with words that I speak in the same way that they do with these blog posts. I put a lot of serious content in these songs on Creative Rec.

I want you guys to hear this tape

Til Thursday,

-Jack

My First Time Having Sex

It's about that time to migrate back to our schools. The weather's getting cooler, Target checkout lines are becoming more space, and leaves are slowly descending to the surface. At this point last year, I was neurotic. The concept of moving out of my folks' house had my anxiety through the roof, and thinking about leaving my group of friends was heart-wrenching. I think we, as humans, have this concept of a "home" being immobile. We think of the house we were raised in, the community that nurtured us, and the people whom we grew up with as a collective "home."

Home has become a synonym for our comfort box, though. How many people as children dreamt of being a child forever?! Never having to leave k-12 school, never having to  move out of our parents' house, and never having to assimilate into the real world? Sounds nice, huh? EVERYBODY has an aspiration. Even the burntest of the burnt dream of burning elsewhere, right? College is really, to me, just an intermediate level towards achieving what I want from life. Reality is, after the four years of college, if you STILL (miraculously) miss home, and think that there's nothing else in life to achieve then to stay at home, YOU have that right. Go back home. But, nobody should really fret the opportunity to go out and make something of their lives. I think we all gotta leave home, if for nothing else, then to just prove that we don't really want to leave home. Don't be scared of diverging from your friend group... you'll stay in touch with the ones that matter.

Some nights, I go out my window and sit on top of the slant in my roof. I hear the wind blowing through trees, as I inhale the other tree. It's a peaceful setting, but it prompts deep thoughts that are sometimes hard to deal with. I think being at home makes me too nostalgic. I look back on the past relationships, friendships, and connections I've had in this city. I miss people. I believe everyone who has entered my life has, in some way, affected me just a little bit; They've redirected me to where I'm at now as an individual. I'm thankful for all of the drama that I've non-willingly been thrust in to. I show gratitude towards the false rumors that circulate around my name. I love the negative attention I've received in my past, because it's molded me. It's helped me segregate faux from real.

Yesterday at work, I was approached at the cafe. A sweet, elder lady named "Shauna" sat down next to me and ate a meal with me. Our conversation delved in between depths, as she began to tell me about her son with addiction. I sympathized with her. She told me that I was "Her Guy," saying how out of all the people that we work with at Target, I've always been the sweetest to her. She said she could tell my parents raised me well, and that I oughtta thank them everyday for what they've done to make me the gentleman I am. I hugged her. I wish Shauna didn't have a biased opinion of me. I wish I could have told her about the times I've talked back to my dad, about my experiences with drugs and alcohol, but I couldn't. I let her believe that I was some sort of perfect human; it was nice to hear. I am a good-hearted kid, but I wonder if Shauna would think the same if she knew my past.

My Mom and Dad worry about me. Ever since we lost my 23-year old cousin last year to drug addiction, they keep a close eye on me. They know I drink, they know I've smoked. They trust me, but they don't trust the company I keep. I wish I could settle their nerves, but I know that if I was a parent, I'd feel the same. I didn't start telling my mom "i love you" until last August, when I went to college. I don't say it enough. I've recently realized how precious life is, and it's helped me adopt the mentality of "quality over quantity" in regards to the people I let in, and let stay in my life. My family is the best blessing I've been given. I have a brother who has bailed me out of so much trouble, a sister who is too shy to tell me she loves me but sends me food when I'm away at college. I have a mom who would do anything for her children, and a dad who has provided me with all the financial help I've ever wished for.

I try to take time out of my day and think about who I want to be. I see myself as a leader. I've saved a life. I don't have an ego, but I have become increasingly confident in the prospect that I can shape the world. My faith is at an all-time high. I know the future isn't promised. I don't take shit for granted. I appreciate all the unconditional love I've received from people whom I may not have given reciprocity. I will be better. I'm SO excited about life.

I guess, this has nothing to do with my first time having sex. But I'd like to see how many of you read this just because you would hear about my dick going in vagina.... hmm. Regardless, make time in your day to thank those who deserve it. Recognize the vital components in your life, and alleviate yourself from the negative factors. Refrain from recluse, decide the outcome of your story.

-Jack