Life and Insecurities

Insecurity

In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except that life comes with insecurities.

Insecurity is a near-universal human condition.

Ironically, people who appear most confident often turn out to be driven by the deepest insecurities. They may dominate conversations, make grand pronouncements, or display what looks like pride. In reality this betrays a defense mechanism against a sensitive area in themselves that they have yet to address.

This suggests that insecurity works differently than most people think. It’s not simply about lacking confidence or self-esteem. There’s a more specific mechanism at play that needs to be understood in order to move past the platitudes of “Just be yourself” or “Fake it until you make it”.


Einstein, Hawking, and Tao

AI tech era—
Engineers clambering to
deprecate themselves.

Billboards peek from snow,
promising the future, now—
Yet progress, glacial.

My pocket is filled
with Einstein, Hawking, and Tao;
My purse is empty.


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The Zombie

The zombie wakes
Begrudgingly leaving its bed
Bindings falling away
Dirt seeping from his eyes
As he recaptures the art
Of setting one bony foot after the other
Stumbling past the doorway with a groan
Down into the catacombs
Where lies his Treasure
The Elixir in the Holy Grail
His bare minimum consciousness
Delivers him to unto the sealed shelf
And he rips open the jail of his Ambrosia
A juxtaposition against the tenderness
With which he cradles the Vessel of Life
And brings it to his lustful lips
That craving
And finally I awaken
To that first drop of vanilla Colombian cold brew on my tongue


Days in the Bay

Tech craze,
Zuck pays.
New space,
house Hayes.
Buy vase,
few Ks.
Partays,
loud bass.
Work days,
bus chase.
Delays,
long face.
Thick haze,
cold Mays.
Years’ daze,
fast pace.
Lone gaze,
sad phase.
“Need praise,”
shrink says.
Replace
old ways.
Mom stays,
embrace.
Her Grace,
allays.
Her love,
always.


Cheap Thrills

The doctor,
the entrepreneur,
the engineer,
and the ghost
sit in a rented red Fiat
endlessly driving
from Nice
to the winding bends
of the Alps.
Cheap Thrills
from cheap speakers
echoes in the crisp mountain air,
but our ears register only
the sound of youthful invincibility
and infinite potential.
Every year
I find myself pulled back
into that tiny car in my memory
and I think,
It must have been a hot summer,
because the snow melted
and formed this tear in my eye.