Caesar Naples Wiki

Facebook allowed Naples to share his conflicted social life with his friends, to ask for support and guidance. Many personal posts were character assassinations of his family, whom he resented at that time (2011-2012) for not letting him move to Oklahoma City. Creative and clinical, his writing style for these personal posts varied from rage-filled sarcasm and irony, to detailed plans for his recovery from schizophrenia. He has always been open about his diagnoses, and hopes to one day reconcile with the doctors--finally finding true agreement with their evaluation or proving that he's something else. We at Caesar Naples Wiki believe him to be quite extraordinary, and disagree with the label of schizophrenia.



moving.

Our first find in over 4 years, Caesar Naples recorded his thoughts when he was finally able to move, a task he had been yearning to accomplish for a very long time. I finally figured out my family. They're like rulers of this world where everything is backward. Maybe even fantasy. Nothing might be real to them, but to me, everything was very real. Well, it used to be very real. I had a complete idea of who I was and where I lived and where I wanted to live. I had relationships that made sense and everything was together. I had hyperactive speech and a big amount of paranoia, but I lived in a crystalline place. Then everything fell apart slowly. It's even more difficult when things fall apart slowly, because it's sad. It's sad to know what's going to happen, and to look back at all your work and realized it was for naught. It's sad to slowly condition yourself to lose. And to crash from emotional highs to devastating lows.

I wanted to make a world for myself, and in that, I was just like my family. I come from a small family, where individuals have their own personal motivations, and it doesn't rock the boat too much to pursue each other's dreams. But for them, their dream was me. And I had other plans. I had to go to the city. I had to live an urban life. I had to seek thrills and experience freedom, but for all my motivation, nothing ever worked. I was financially limited by them. I was put into a mental health program that was meant to be my entire life. They wanted me to be known as a weirdo, because, to them, I think I was a source of shame. I tried very hard to prove to them I was okay, and by doing so created a vast trail of creativity and efforts to break free from this system. But I failed, and when I finally accepted my failure, it all made sense.

There was no way for me to do what I wanted to do. It was an impossible, grandiose plan. I couldn't possible hope to achieve this status I wanted with my standing in the world, not to mention my issues. I wanted something more than I could ever realistically accomplish. But there was a hidden reality underneath the surface of my life that I could not see. I knew it was there, and I wondered how I could find it. I worried I was being influenced by forces that I could not see, and I tried to control them. Inside my deluded mind, I could actually create this reality I wanted. But life is hard. I've learned that. It's never easy.

I tried agreeing with them. I tried working together. I was too nice, and I couldn't hold my smile for long enough for us to get along. They really had an issue with me, but only on the surface. Deeply, they cared for me. They wanted my dreams to come true. But we live in that harsh reality where nothing is easy, and I couldn't survive that way. It is after all the goal of a family to lived a prolonged life. It is the very definition of family to succeed.

By accepting my powerlessness, I was okay with accepting my grandparent's plan. It was simply to move to a different location in my current town. I was excited, thinking I would get to own the house, but of course I'm still renting. And of course I won't be able to go to the city from this place.

But it's a beautiful house, and I will live a beautiful life there.

All because I'm finally moving.



Schizophrenia.com

The Ignorance on Schizophrenia.com
(Full title)

An early attempt at journalistic prose, we decided to include this in the "Personal" wiki because it lacks information and is full of opinion. This is one of Caesar Naples' first monologues on schizophrenia. He had been forced to remain in his family's home, and after deliberation decided it must be because of his schizophrenia diagnoses. Not relating to many schizophrenic patients, he was compelled to post this piece on Facebook. It's an illuminating read, however the structure suffers. Evidence suggests this is one of the first serious pieces Naples' had written in years. He never did go to that group home.

Posters on a certain subforum at schizophrenia.com share delusions, paranoia, hallucinations, beliefs, and post about things like the voices they hear all day. I don't know how this subforum got approved as it can't be a good thing for a number of schizophrenics to actually get together and discuss delusions. I can see the cathartic purposes, though, and as a way to rate the value of a certain delusion against other people's reactions to it, though in my experience delusions don't make sense like that and a person is hard-pressed to find help from others in quelling their fictions.

But really, it's just entertainment. Not that I make fun of the people suffering but for me, it's all very interesting. And occasionally something great pops up, like a person's conviction that schizophrenia is a disease of demonic possession, or the western-style schizophrenic cowboy posts of one guy who, apparently, smokes first thing every morning, and that's when he begins the battle in his mind for... uh... his mind.

It is sad to read the ignorance on the forum of people who really need help. I was one of the lucky ones and in a brilliant stroke of luck was hospitalized for a short time which has put an almost hilarious slant on my whole sickness thing, because I have those experiences to basically check everything against. It's hard to explain, but it's almost like I'm completely aware of what's making me psychotic on any given moment, and by proxy almost make a choice to be this way. I'm like the opposite of those ignorant on the forums who suffer every day in confusion about what's making them sick, when I can objectively calm down and think, wow. I used to be delusional. Now I'm just nervous. Things are going to be ok when I get a job, or go to school, or frankly, move out which is something my family doesn't have the courage to let me do. Which is beyond me but that's another story.

So I'm considering instead of going to college this summer, going to a group home for high-functioning schizophrenics. I'm going to try to do this for two reasons. First, to convince my family to finally let me move out, so that I don't have to give them the finger and just fuck off against their will which will probably happen anyway. Second, to avoid a sort of relapse thing. Sure, I'm pretty well now, perhaps psychotically bored, but I'm also on an antipsychotic which I don't intend to keep taking given the long-term risks. Who knows if I'll lose touch with reality again? I mean, it probably won't happen, but I'd like to be barricaded against ever thinking that the television is psychically communicating with me ever again. Not that that wasn't fun.

Just imagine how lucky I am for a moment. I get to, instead of going to college, go to basically what I assume is some type of hippy commune where atypicals go to share their experiences. I get to perfect the art of living and prepare myself for a passionate romp through the rest of my life. And it's paid for. It's just a matter of how long I decide to stay there.

So if you know anybody who is schizophrenic, I really recommend trying to get them into a hospital or some type of group home like the one I'm (probably) going to. If they can't get into a hospital, try to convince them to make up something horrible like suicidal thoughts. I swear I've seen people do it, and considering you can't be admitted to most places without being a danger to yourself or others (I was there involuntarily) it's really worth it if you can convince them to do it. I've read books about people who are really ill and the family basically waits for something bad to happen so that they can hospitalize the person and when something bad happens, it usually is REALLY bad and instead of going to a hospital they go to prison. Not to be a fear monger.

It's really sad because a lot of times just going through the system and doing something pioneering like moving out on your own will basically solve a lot of problems. Also. I am not a health care professional. But I've hired 3.



Challenge

We struggled to decide if this piece should go under "non-fiction" or "personal," but decided it was so close to Naples' heart (and presented so few facts) that it was more personal.

Whenever I listen to the flaming lips, I'm reminded of my plane trip to see my biological father when I was in the 10th grade that summer. It was the summer of my first kiss, coincidentally. On my ipod I had all of the current flaming lips albums and for the flight I listened to all of them. But something about that flight and subsequent happy trip really changed my life. It was the beginning of these realizations I would later have about life, the universe, and everything. I think the biggest part of what was happening were the feelings I was having, of comfort and happiness, warmth and hope. I was still an atheist but these occurences would lead to a belief in god. Yes, I used to be an atheist. I was a fairly militant one. Most of my friends are still atheists or agnostics, and I really understand their viewpoint because of my former status as an atheist. Now that I believe in god, I can see all the traps that religion creates for you, ones that are hard to explain but are basically why atheists are atheists in the first place. When I get a lasso around my beliefs, my belief in eternity and souls is only one part of the equation. I also believe in motivation, mobility, upward mobility, opportunity, dexterity, creativity, resilience, objectivity, compassion, logic, honesty, civil rights, freedom, sexual freedom, and other things along these lines. It's not exactly political, but the strongest adverseraries I have to this secondary part of my belief system tend to be conservatives. Enter: my grandpa.

I talk about him a lot. I have this amazing opportunity to confer my own thoughts with someone else, because I live so close to this amazing character, and because what I do necessarily goes hand in hand with his cooperation. But this situation only highlights our differences in belief. He's a workaholic. I think work is a distraction. I'm not lazy, I love being productive, but his idea of what I should do at this point in my life is to join a work program and learn discipline and respect, while I'm more of a "live in three places at once while living off of the government" type of person. It goes back to my belief in mobility and freedom. And welfare. I met a woman online who thinks that welfare is theivery, whereas I'm pretty staunch in my belief that welfare is a good thing. Hey, I'm on social security. And trust me, I'm taking advantage of the opportunity the american people have given me in their generous decision to give me money. I'm learning things, I'm developing, I'm planning.

But the situation of my grandpa basicially blocking my freedom has just opened my eyes to how different our beliefs are. He won't let me move out (jokes on him, I'm moving out anyway). This goes against what I believe about opportunity. I'm creating opportunities for myself to succeed when I organize a move. I made the choice to go to a community college for my (first) degree, and he is not helping me in this regard. The way I see it, I went through four years of high school, I should have the freedom to choose where I go to college. But he wants me to go to a four year school in Durant. I don't want to move there. Many of the things that would make me me would disappear. I mean, I have dexterity, but nobody's flexible enough to move someplace they have no friends and live in a shitty apartment, not being able to afford internet, with nothing to do but go to class, etc. It would have been like putting on a straitjacket, which is the sort of thing my grandpa likes because he's trying to teach me discipline. I'm a creative person, I honestly have enough discipline to live my life already.

Anyway, I wanted the message of this post to be more positive, so I won't focus on my grandpa. What I respect is people who, with limited income and opportunity, manage to live full lives because of their creativity and compassion. These people make a difference in the world around them, and when you take away the basic fuel of their lives, freedom, you're squelching a part of something very inspiring. Yes'm, 's why I hate the ol' conservative agenda. I hope to live an astounding life. I don't need a college education (but I'm getting one) and I don't need a three-figure salary to do this. With people like my grandpa in my life, it's a much greater challenge.

One of the greatest criticisms I receive from my best friends is that I sound like I'm trying to change the world. What if I am? LOL. But no, if they think I'm Hitler or something, that's not what I'm all about. I don't even think I'm that cool, I just like to have fun. I just want to have a good life, and it's in my spirit to have a sort of radical existence. I remember one time I lied to the walmart people who I told that I was doing a school project. I had a camera, and cameras aren't technically allowed in walmart because you could snap photos of the prices and they hate that. Well, it wasn't for a school project, but I walked down the aisles snapping photographs and I felt like the press, like a reporter from another country just trying to document this foreign "walmart" place. It's all in your perspective. I still think that's one of the coolest things I've ever done, and it was pretty dorky.

But I've figured everything out and my values aren't threatened. I'm moving to an urban place, which is where I'm most comfortable and creative, and getting out of this sick conservative nightmare with my little government check. Take that, Republicans!



capital.

We thought we had lost this one. However, on an obscure tumblr site, pages behind, we found "capital." In "capital.," Naples alternatively praises and bashes his family. Still unwieldy at opinion pieces, this work he may have intended to be non-fiction but the editors at Caesar Naples Wiki insist it goes into the personal file. You, as the reader, may be interested in knowing that he failed to move out. It would cause much pain for Naples in the months after this was written.

Iíve been going through this phase of drinking. All my imagined spiritual leaders that Iíve created for myself to help guide me donít really have a problem with it. It is, after all, better than smoking pot. Or doing meth. Or snorting oxycontin. But by that logic, xanax is better too (if youíre prescribed) and I think xanax happens to be one of the most dangerous drugs out there. So my logic doesnít work when you go all the way down but Iím ok with that.

Itís just down another rabbit hole for me, drinking. I mean, it makes you stupid. It transports you to another world. Itís a lot like pot (it makes me hungry) in many ways. Itís relaxing. It could pretty much be replaced with smoking pot every dayóitís about on that level of addiction/intoxication. Except for me, pot might exascerbate my symptoms of schizophrenia. Overall, drinking beer is just a fun way to pass the time. But I recognize the problems.

We have an office on main street in broken bow. My great grandma works there, and my grandpa is there sometimes. They found beer in the computer room where I play on my gaming computer. They told me not to ďmake the office your beer joint.Ē But really I only drank two beers. I think you drink more at a beer joint, and I think theyíre being assholes, but whatever. I was totally edgy when they accused me of this, and they asked why I had to be so abrasive and I was like, because fuck you!

But I had a great talk with my great grandma when I was up there. I just really value our conversations, and sheís so fortunate to not have problems with dementia like my other great grandma (apparently) has. She is very lucid and understands everything I say, even when I get complex. I started to talk about how a car wasnít really an asset that I valued, even though my grandpa insists that the savings Iíve saved up is for a car. I already have a car! But I told her I realized he values luxury items, or assets, or whatever, things like cars not things like apartments, which eventually have no value. It told her this really goes against what I believe in, because I donít think a man is the sum of what he owns. But Iím forced to accept this mindset because my grandpa wonít fucking let me leave. My grandpa tells me heís trying to teach me a lesson about money, but what heís really teaching me is that it can be difficult to live on social securityóI make way less than I would if I had an actual job.

What I was really surprised my great grandma understood is when I said that my grandpa was just making the gap between the rich and the poor greater when he charges me so much to live with him (almost 50% of my check) and she fuckiní nailed it when she said thatís exactly what the protestors are protesting in NY and all over the country. Itís almost like Iím cheating, I have such a perfect example of what theyíre protesting in my home environment. And I chalk it to my grandpa understanding corporate values and then just pushing them as far as he can, regardless of whether or not theyíre good values.

But really, I have no choice but to accept this shit. I called him when I got home from the office and asked him how much it would cost to buy this house. It would be a nice asset to have right? I just started thinking on his terms, and I can tell he really enjoyed it. I mean, I could play the greed game, and just spend all my energy saving up money and investing it in houses and cars but I have one major problem. I donít know if Iím competant enough to aquire that much capital. And thus, ďtheyĒ have won, because ďtheyĒ believe that the people who canít make money donít deserve to have it. But on the flipside, I donít think that behavior is very Jesus-like. And trust me, ďtheyĒ think they are one with Jesus. I honestly have spiritual problems with equating fortune with actual monetary fortune. I know people that do amazing, amazing things on a five-figure income. I just donít want to reveal who they are and put them on the spot like that.

When I asked him about buying this house, he mentioned renting-to-own but he said that he had a different house in mind for me to rent-to-own, it just needed some work done on it. And he said that he couldnít afford to hire someone to do it and that heíd have to do it himself. And he suggested I help him. He said I could learn a thing or two. Now at this point, I balk. I honestly do not want to learn this shit. I might be really stuck up, but I can only reference the John Lennon song ďworking class hero,Ē but I honestly do not want to be involved in manual labor because, frankly, I would feel like a fucking slave. You know those people who ďrespectĒ workers? Theyíre a higher class than the workers. They have to respect the workers or they have to do the shit themselves. Itís not something to be proud of, to be a working class hero. I donít want to learn how to fix houses, I want to learn how to write short stories. Itís just another difference I have with my grandpa. And I really believe doing manual labor makes me a slave. I just donít want to learn that shit.

Oh by the way, I moved into a nice two bedroom house two houses away from where my mom lived last year. Itís really nice, two bedrooms that I have no use for except to fill up with awesome furniture and whatnot. Televisions. My kitchen doesnít have enough room for a fridge so I also plan to put a mini-fridge in one of the bedrooms. And when I have enough money, Iíll buy mixing equipment and get to making that album. If only I had more money.

And thatís another place Iím disappointed. My grandma spends 1000% of what I have to spend a month, total, before I pay rentóshe spends it on stupid shit too. If they would give me some of that money, I could be a national fucking success, travelling across the country doing writing workshops or meeting artists or I could just stay here and buy some really nice equipment then perform in OKC, which one of my friends made out to be a really valid option for creative people. And I am very creative. I feel like Iím constantly the artist, and also that this new plan, the result of them making it impossible for me to move where I want, is going to take some real creativity to be successful. But I canít keep drinking. Thatís just a stopgap for my real life. Itís helping a lot, I think Iíve already had three beers and itís only 1:30. Go me!

My plan is to live in two places, with a house in broken bow to spend my time in the summers and whatnot. An alternate plan is to live here full time and invest in music equipment so I can write an album. I like the both plans but they both require a job. You canít live a life of having stuff on my income at the moment.



beer

The most detailed account of Caesar Naples' attitude towards substance abuse and its inevitable influence on his art follows. The original Facebook note was entitled, "the taste of beer," we've gathered. Yes, I just started a note on facebook with the title, ďThe taste of beer.Ē My friends are getting married, starting their own parties, passing jokes around, and what do I decide to do? Excercise my language skills by talking about beer. First of all, Iím probably going to hell for this. The beer part of the title is bad, and the taste part of the title is bad, because I assume you go to hell when youíre a substance abuser, like me, and for enjoying the sensual pleasures of life too much, like tastes. What I mean is thisó the focus of my blog is the TASTE of beer, and tastes are generally a lower experience of life, something salt-licking deer are overpowered by, and something humans generally donít focus on except on the finer nights of their life, sitting in a five star restaurant. And this post isnít even about that. Itís about the taste of BEER. So yes, Iím going to hell.

Itís pretty easy to write a note about the taste of beer. All you have to do is focus on the details, and maybe come up with a little story surrounding the experience. For instance, I donít really like the taste of beer. Thatís a detail. Next, I could take my detail one step further by reflecting that Iím getting pleasure from something I donít even like. I wonít be saying I drink a lot of beer, because I donít. But maybe I would write about the irony of not enjoying the taste of something I consume all the time. I could clarify, next, and say that I donít like the taste of all beers. In this case, it happens to be good beers, or the type of beers other people will only drink, that I donít like. See, I get bonus points there for double ironyóI donít like the taste of something I drink all the time, and I donít like the taste of something people are selective about the taste of, or something that people usually consider the better kind. I drink cheap beer, and I prefer cheap beer.

Now, I know Iíve chosen a good topic because there are hundreds of stories I could think of about beer that I could write about.

I like to focus on sense details, and use them to further my story. Like, I could say: I had just returned to the trailer when I found a warm beer that was half full. I took a swig and to my dismay, tasted the bitterness of a cigarette butt which I had dumped in the can earlier. Now, this is a true story, and itís a good story, because it hints at further substance abuse, that is the habit of smoking. Generally, stories on facebook involving substance abuse, are five-star. I canít really fact check that, but trust me. Itís entertaining. Iíve written entire notes about what I think about when I smoke, and those are generally successful. But, I make a sacrifice to provide this entertainment. I donít like smoking and drinking. I want to quit smoking, and I hate drinking so much I rarely exceed two beers, just because I hate being drunk. My sacrifice is to not lead a ďstraightedgeĒ life, the straightedge life I so desire, and my gain is simplyÖ entertainment.

At this point in my note, Iím thinking about the reader. They donít agree with my lifestyle. They donít agree the payoff is worth it, to be a sinner in order to be a thrilling person. Theyíre probably judging me now. So I have to appeal in that sense to my reader. I would say something likeóďyou know, Iím really upset about my lifestyle, and I canít wait to make a change.Ē Then Iíve got them back. Itís not even a lie you know, I really donít think this is the life I should lead, a drinking, smoking, porn-addicted man. Then I realize I never mentioned anything about porn. Then I hastily finish up the note, rounding back on previous points to make a firm conclusion.

The taste of beer is something I havenít always been fond of, but I knew that I would have to learn to love it if I was going to lead the life of a booze-hound that I knew I was heading for. It took me months of practice before the taste of even cheap beer was OK to me, and I could bear to down a beer or two at a time. Now, beer doesnít taste so much like cigarette butts and is drinkable, something Iím glad of, for my life would be so boring without beer. I even find that my writing skills improve when Iím drinking beeróbut I had only had one when I wrote this note, and sadly, the resulting post was in fact very boring. Iíll make another about cigarettes when Iíve downed a little more alcohol.



Treatment plan (06/2012)

A very recent piece inspired out of frustration. Naples always felt that something was preventing him from solving his problems, something out of his control. He sought, with "Treatment plan," to clearly represent his problems to his friends and family, and, especially to his family, make it clear that he knew how to succeed and had a very good plan for doing so.

I've been focusing on the "burden of disease" with my family recently. Frankly, I no longer want to deal with the burden of disease, so I'm going to come up with a treatment plan which supposedly helps reduce it. If my family, employers, and friends know I am strictly following a recovery plan for schizophrenia, I will feel less awful about the statistical nightmare of being diagnosed with schizophrenia.

1) Abilify for 1 year

The plan for antipsychotics is always to get off of them. 1 year is a relatively short amount of time to get off of them. I would take my full dose, as adjusted by my doctor, for 1 year then start reducing the dose until I'm off it, probably over 4-6 months after the first year. I feel that in one year, I can make broad steps towards recovery, with the help of the medication, and actually--I haven't been taking any for about two months now and despite the sleeplessness in the beginning, it's been wonderful. Equally wonderful is how I felt on the medication. However the wikipedia article on schizophrenia pretty much turned me into "hardcore" mode on beating this problem, so I don't want to risk any kind of mental breakdown in the coming year, which is very important because I'm truly moving out and becoming independent this year.

2) Focus on mental health

I have wild projects. I have wild interests with no real direction. Often, something happens which makes me think my idea is a bad one and I'll just totally drop the project. Instead of hiring artists to come up with stupid memes for me, which is actually something I've tried recently, and instead of buying a synthesizer keyboard, and instead of getting a hotel room next to a bar so I can have some fun, I'm going to focus my creative energy on mental health. It may end up being my career choice. I have already been doing this, with my half-baked mental health fundraiser idea which hasn't really taken off yet, even though I have a website. I feel more realistic mental health goals will be a better idea. Such as advocacy for mental health patients. I can use the internet to achieve awareness goals. Also, I found this site, which is a nice entry point http://money.howstuffworks.com/economics/volunteer/opportunities/volunteer-with-mental-health-patients3.htm

3) Stay on social security until I graduate

No real debate here, I want to go to school and my advantage of being on social security is one I have decided to continue taking ... advantage... of.

4) Stop blaming family

Although I do try to get my point across, I essentially am using them as an excuse because of my semi-dependence on them. I think moving is the best way to achieve this goal. I think I should be honest to this goal, and stop posting about them on facebook.

5) Go to school for at least one year

Now, this is what the debate is about. College or no? Obviously, my entire belief system about culture, society, and success revolve around an education. However, several people have made me reconsider this. So I've decided to at least take one year of school, which is one-half of an associates degree, and decide what I want to do from there. This entire list is essentially a one-year plan for my college life. This isn't one of the points, but I'm moving to OKC this summer.

6) Get a roommate within one year

I think for right now, this will be too difficult. However I can achieve two purposes by finding roommates. One, I can save a lot of money. Two, I can finally resocialize myself. It's been very challenging not seeing people irl. I also want a relationship with someone. So, by the time I start reducing the medication, and when the time comes to decide if I want to continue college, I want to get to make the decision myself on whether or not I want a roommate, also.

7) Don't have kids, don't get married

No-brainer, my life would really suck with this disease trying to balance a kid and wife. I think I'm a burden now? Imagine if I had to borrow THOUSANDS instead of HUNDREDS of dollars from my family. Plus it would be really bad for the kid. Just sayin'. What with my disease completely obsessing me and all.

I have a lot to say about schizophrenia, but it's pretty biased. For example, I have what I would define a low-risk mental state, considering I hate doing drugs, breaking the law, I'm not morbidly depressed, and I've never been suicidal. Another factor making this low-risk is my family's support, although I do find some problems with them at times. I'm also very... intelligent? Intuitive? Lucky? Because I have the self-awareness to improve my condition.

Oh, I need to add, that even if I don't follow this (broad) list of goals, I do not ever want to change my mind again once I decide something. It's kinda related to my disordered thinking that I even do it in the first place, and it's very destructive when I do that... So never again! NO REGRETS!



Low/high risk

This is a continuance of Treatment plan (06/2012).

Let me try to explain insanity. I've was talking in my note this morning about how I'm low-risk for a few reasons. Like I'm not suicidal or severely depressed, and I have family help. Well, I'm entering a high-risk zone for my mental state during at least the next week, possibly longer. This is because I'm quitting smoking and drinking beer. I've been conditioned for insanity (one problem I face is being too emotional) and can handle the ups-and-downs. It's just that last time I quit smoking, I started talking to myself. And the time before that, was the time I went into a mental hospital. So if you think of my head as a spaceship with a brain inside, I'm more or less entering an asteroid belt. My only wingmen being a few friends, who I will notify tomorrow of my EVEN GREATER future insanity.

It's pretty obvious that my problem is prolonged seclusion and lack of human contact. The fact that socializing over facebook helps me so much is the giveaway. I could flavor what I'm saying by adding in that I've been "brainwashed," "over-exposed" and "living in fear," but like I mentioned in this morning's note, that's just me being biased. For public interaction, I should probably stick to the facts. The self-cleaning function of my social habits has quit working, because I've been completely alone for the past 3 years, since I was 19. Literally having a hard time thinking about my last social event. I mean, it's been great, if insane, for a few reasons, but most of what I have learned about the world or myself will prove to be useless. And because my friends haven't been there to set an example for me (and me for them) I've gotten into the habit of smoking over 2 packs a day, pacing around, being a self-absorbed asshole, etc.

You're probably wondering, how does this note exist? Nobody talks about themselves like that... "KEEP THAT SHIT TO YOURSELF MAN!" you say. However, it really does help. And to answer how this note exists, it's my everlasting sense of humor. If I could illustrate the nature of the satire in this post, I'd have to describe the Empire State Building as my armless marionnette with train stations of sarcasm hurtling engines at the surrounding buildings, like a giant, selfish, ironic, corporate robot. Or something.



complex.

Here Naples explores his complex inner workings, written to give himself perspective on the challenge he faced with his grandpa. He believed his grandpa had similar motivations, and saw that as an opportunity to bond with him. However, it remains to be seen whether this piece helped him get along with his grandfather, after all. While we are sitting around wondering, Caesar Naples is out saving the world. If we're not superheros ourselves, at least we can read this excellent essay by Naples in order to understand one.

Everything's so complex. There's at least 4 discs of reality playing on me at every turn. Say, I've got some new idea I want to try out, and in attempting it I've slipped off the plane of existence I was given and leaped to a new one. It's the difference between waking and sleeping. I couldn't describe a dream to my waking self, and if I could I might live in a waking dream more often. When I'm a person whose trying to make friends with the neighbors and I decide I want to establish my family as long-term residents here, I have to modify my behavior and in fact, become a completely different person in my mind. If I want to listen to music and plan my future, that's an entirely separate disc.

When spinning plates of reality and jumping from one to another, it's difficult to get a single message across. I often have trouble communicating my true intent, especially when I'm in another reality than whomever I'm communicating with. It's a difficult phenomenon to understand, I know, because I thought it meant I was stupid for a very long time. In fact, I was just sending mixed messages as I switched plates.

If I'm trying to transfer an idea from my own brain into another, I immediately lose credit in the other person's mind if I don't seem utterly focused on that one idea. It makes sense to be focused, and I used to think that a lack of focus was my actual problem. But the real issue was attempting to express complex ideas that only I understood. While I understood them, the other person saw obvious weaknesses in the idea, due to not knowing the full situation. To give them more credit than that, in order to not make them appear to be simpletons, my ideas often only applied to myself. An idea very well might not work at all for them, but given my situation and beliefs, would be perfect for me. Yet I was always denied my stand.

Now that I'm older, I've missed opportunities to express what I want meaningfully, and I'm running out of time to do so. At some point, I'll live in my complex world, perfectly happy, but sharing it with no one. In order to have relationships with people, I really need to hurry in order to express my desires and plans before it becomes impossible to share. Without further ado, here's a quick rundown of my complexes I'll share to find accomplices in the heady journey I'm beginning.

I want to save the world. This might sound tongue-in-cheek, but it's the easiest way to express an extremely complex idea. I have a few rules to keep this task on my plate. It's stuff like, always stay neutral, never use violence, try to make as many people "happy" as possible, (and I mean happy in general, not just happy with me), and to let the universe decide the outcome of things. I'm not the judge, but nature is. I use the homeostasis of my environment on earth in order to have a level footprint. I don't want to tip the scales in either direction.

My second task is to rise to the highest social status I feel comfortable in. Right now, I'm very poor. It would be simple to create the illusion of wealth for me, given my situation, but as misunderstandings arise, I lose opportunity to get over poverty, and represent a healthy middle class citizen. I mean, I'm destroying relationships and eventually, I'll be stuck here. This makes me sad, knowing I have potential and intelligence to live a different life, but not communicating my difficulties properly in order to change. I'm starting to think I belong at the poverty-line.

I've illustrated already the difficulty in balancing these two realities and goals I have. Being a superhero might require expunging a desire for money, but I desire money in order to maintain a standard of living. But the two don't conflict in my world, because I can balance them. Although, no one really trusts me to do so.

My final complex is one of resisting evil. This is a difficult one to manage and a hard one to express. I want to resist going to the dark side. If I'm a criminal, I want to be a justifiable one. I want to not influence the world negatively, and I don't want the world to influence me. So I often make moral judgements, either of inanimate or animate things. I might not associate my real self with a friend I think has succumbed to evil. Or I might not do drugs in a situation where I think it would be wrong. But this is the most difficult plate to balance. Evil sneaks up on you. You get blindsided by it, and you'll be taken up by it slowly without noticing. Plus, it feels good to descend to that tempting plane of villainy. I approach evil with a huge amount of care. I'm fighting evil.

When I'm fighting evil, the plates are in balance.



trail.

Naples became concerned he was over-communicating with his colleagues during his time. The evidence of his journey to leadership would come back to bite him, he thought. Of course, us at Caesar Naples Wiki are elated that he left behind memos and letters for us to sort through; and he very successfully disappeared, so we believe his concern was unwarranted. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to share his worry with the world. What a star. It may be important to relate, Caesar Naples' random postings are the very life-blood of Caesar Naples Wiki. Without clues dispersed online, we would never have found his writing, and never given it freely to the world in this way.

Does the effort of a man equal his greatness? Does the communique left out in the open make him vulnerable? Does a stalker know a man better than the man knows himself? Is there any way for a man to leave behind his past, with a great paper trail behind him?

These thoughts came to the front this morning, as I drank water in agitation. How could I be comfortable with myself, when there were different versions of me scattered in my friends' inboxes, posted online to websites, and left behind as evidence of a temporary inspiration, an idea never brought to fruition but still sitting there, ripe for revisiting? I know how long I have carried this great weight of leadership. I've wanted to be a companion to the weird, and a friend of crazies and creative people for so long, that every effort to bust out of my shell has been adding up, to this great bin of evidence that I'm the crazy one.

In one way, it's not so bad. I have a lot of this trail logged in just one email account. And then, since I've permanently deleted one Facebook, and switched to this one specific social media plan, I can at least be aware of all this evidence. I can read up on it and learn just exactly where I'm influencing the world.

I can revisit it slowly, and own up to all my own problems and half-planned escapes. And I can learn how to live a more private life from them. After all, a man with a paper trail should be easy to find. But what if the trail stops?

If I'm hiding, at least I'm not hiding from myself.