Crizo Crizo Bo Bizo Banana Fana Fo Frizo

February 26, 2010  |  Thoughts  |  No Comments

I realized something today.  I will post my thoughts online on Facebook or Twitter, but none of those thoughts really put it out there who I am.  If anyone was to read my tweets or posts on crizomatic or facebook, nobody would really have a clue who I am.  So let me introduce myself without being too transparent.  This is over 140 characters, so quit now and save yourself.

*Warning, incoming cliché blog post, prepare for boarding*

Hi, I’m Crizo.  Some call me Chris, but my old friends tend to call me Crizo.  Don’t ask where it came from, I don’t know.  Consider this the primer to my brain.  Most things, I just don’t know.  Things just seem to happen around me, typically in an overly lucky manner.  I’ve floated through life pretty effortlessly, and that irks me.

When you meet a stranger, the first thing most people ask is “What do you do?”.  Well, for starters, I am a professional hater of asking that question.  It’s like somehow people fell into the line of thought that if Joe is a Doctor, he must really like helping people, and having a lot of money.  They would have no idea that Joe is actually a musician and drives race cars, because that’s what he likes to do.  Those things are what should define Joe, but Bob will never know because he didn’t ask “What do you like to do?”.  Two extra words is all it takes to really get a feel for a person.

So with that in mind, I work at a company that sells land.  However, I don’t sell land.  I make their website, and make sure their online presence is well polished and defined.  When people ask “what do you do?”, I have no idea what to say.  I want to tell them “I’m a photographer and web designer” since I do that, but people get confused when you don’t just do one thing.  They want to be able to put you in column A or column B.  Most think if you don’t just do one thing, it’s because you aren’t good enough at doing one thing.  I don’t know why.  What do I like to do?  I like music, dogs, cars, playing guitar, videogames, drawing, painting, creating, and buying stuff.  Thankfully I live in the USA, so I’m free to buy stuff all day long.  Even if I don’t have any money.  I won’t take that tangent though, ever, promise.  I get wordy enough without going all political.

So that’s what I do I guess.  I make pretty pictures in many formats.

Man, this human thing sure is complex.  Luckily I’ve been human for a couple decades now so I think I’m getting the hang of it.

[Insert paragraph here about how I feel things like a human, not like a robot]

[Insert another paragraph about how I don't actually think I'm a robot, but just a guy with a really dry sense of humor]

Someone sent me a quote the other day that sums up exactly how I feel:

“I would rather live in a world where my life is surrounded by mystery than live in a world so small that my mind could comprehend it”

A guy named Harry Emerson Fosdick said that. However, I don’t think he meant it how I interpreted it.  Sadly, I feel like there simply isn’t that mystery anymore.  That constantly frustrates me.  That’s not a feeling you can get back.  Once you figure out how something works, there is no unlearning it.  Probably my own fault though, I’m constantly out to learn about the world around me.  Let’s thank Bill Nye The Science Guy for that one.  Without sounding like Hansel from Zoolander, I’m curious how things work. Mainly the human brain.  It fascinates me.  I probably have trouble carrying on relationships because I have trouble at looking at people without analyzing what makes them tick.  That’s part of that friend named “mystery” that’s becoming a stranger.

(This is me being excited that I got to tag this post with “Bill Nye”)

I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I’m a smart guy, as well as creative.  I’m extremely idealist, until it comes to my own dreams.  The problem with that, is that while I’d love to be a starving artist and just do what I love, the smart side of me knows that I can’t do that.  So does the realist that I currently live with.  I have business ideas every day, but I don’t act on any of them.  Why don’t I act?  Like most people, I talk myself out of my own ideas before I even try them.  I’ve been doing this as long as I can remember.  Crizo’s subconcious probably knows why.

Just compare Crizo of the past to Crizo of 2010.  In 2006 or so I was dreaming big.  I moved to California to see what happens.  I didn’t care what happened, but I knew it’d be an adventure.  Now I am sitting in 9′ x 13′ office, on my computer.  I have a spreadsheet in front of me.  A freaking spreadsheet.  Ugh, just what the hell happened?

While it seems like I’m revealing way too much about myself on the internet, you still don’t know me.  You have no clue who I really am.  To you, I will always be someone else that you try to understand as you would understand yourself.  In fact, right now you’re reading my words, and probably hearing them in your own voice.

Your world is about you, my world is about me.  I’m okay with that.  Time for lunch.

This post has been brought to you by Shirley Ellis and the number 57.

Generation of Acquaintances

Generation of Acquaintances

January 28, 2010  |  Thoughts  |  No Comments

The social revolution is upon us as anybody within distance of a WIFI network knows. I’m part of the first generation that really grew up with and helped shape the internet.  I spend so much time on the internet, it’s kind of embarrassing if I were to put it into numbers.   I’m all over the social web, but why?  Yes, there is the “convenience” of it, but how convenient is it really?

*Warning, this is full of a lot of over generalizations.  Sorry if I sound like a bitter old man, I don’t really write in a way that should be taken at face value.

In the “old” days if I wanted to talk to somebody, it was simple. I either called them on the phone, e-mailed them, or if they were tech savvy, I could even instant message them on ICQ.  Back in those days I had good friends, I mean friends that I could just walk into their front door without knocking. Friends that I could spend all day with, and not run out of things to talk about.  I still have those kind of friends, and amazingly, I pretty much never talk to them using the social web.

Ever since it had become “easier” to talk to my friends, and for my friends to talk to me, I honestly see them less, and don’t really talk to many anymore. It’s just simply gotten too easy to be a lazy friend.  People think being “friends” with somebody on MyTwitterBook means they’re friends in real life.  They will believe that leaving 140 character comments on each others FaceSpace pages counts as human interaction.  Then just to let everyone know that they still go out and have awesome times, they will put up nothing but party pictures.  Whenever I’m out partying now, it’s crazy how many cameras you see, knowing that the photos will be for nothing other than putting on Facebook to show their friends that they know how to have a good time.   People simply didn’t use to do that.

It’s such strange dynamic when people just shout something out into an empty field, hoping that somebody else in that field hears them and shouts back.  They don’t actually talk.  They won’t even take a step closer to each other.  They don’t ask each other how the others day was, because frankly, they don’t care.  They just want to know that somebody heard them.  If that insults you, either you know it’s true, or you’re one of the few awesome people out there and I want you to add me as a friend on whatever.

I’ll read their status updates about how awesome their grilled cheese sandwich just was. Then I let them know I think it’s awesome that they think it’s awesome by clicking on a button. If I REALLY liked it, then I’m going to even comment on how I wish I could have such an awesome grilled cheese too. I’m never directly talking to them.  I’m talking to their comment, as if it was its own entity.

I just don’t see how I should need to spread myself out so thin across all these networks just to make sure I am able to get messages from anybody, at anytime, even my dry cleaners.  If people really want to talk to me, they can figure it out.  I have a phone and an email address.  My phone even gets instant messages if you don’t want to leave your computer.  Kids and their skinny jean technology, dag nabbit.

Now excuse me while I update my Facebook profile to let everyone know that I published a new post on my blog.