Investment on Dreams

Mental paralysis. Sometimes the right words just don’t come in time for the right moment. Deep inside I’d be like, “fuck! Was I some kind of genius, now my thoughts refuse to process how I want it to process”. Writer’s block on lyrics too. It’s like my flesh has gone mutiny against the spirit. Who knows because it seems, the older one gets, the more of a blur the thought process becomes. I found this quote from the conversation Socates had with an elder very enlightening off the book Republic, written by Plato. “For, let me tell you that the more the pleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me are the pleasure and charm of conversation.” The thought of a rich conversation; full of rhythm and tone command, a pendulum of exchanged ideas given understanding, it warms my soul. Yet I wonder, will I grow old and accomplish this. Or is my mind to be in an indigo fog, decimated library shelves full of torn pages and rusted relics. Will I continue to speak nonsense? No calculated thought.

It’s cool to say still, I operate trains for a living. Two factors about that though, one very impressive and the other—ehhh—concerning. I operate through a heavy rail, at times handling a high volume of passengers with controlled speed and finesse. The negative, it’s 26 miles roundtrip of controlled territory requiring the same movements, with a very thorough concentrated focus. Now, exercising the same train movements, speech, and pressure of the alignment, five times a week for the past nearly six months will take a toll on anyone. It’s a respectable living—essential work—yet, there’s a cost. 

It’s been challenging juggling between my professional life and hobbies. Occasionally, I strum my acoustic guitar as my heart vibes out. I record a few sounds and tunes, then spend some time rearranging my samples and patterns to produce that perfect—chef’s kiss—eden track. It takes time to manufacture quality content. Sigh. Though as the old adage goes, I have to make time.

Since April, I’ve been investing thousands of dollars in stocks, ironically to make only hundreds. It’s been a healthy and refreshing process though and it’s made me much more financially aware of certain markets. As Warren Buffet said, invest in what you know—I do that. Understanding the surface level of the stock market opens my eyes on how relative, yet how important money is. Especially in a world that is based on networking through content, it navigates the direction money goes. From my labor, the cornerstone of what my capital is, given time, the shares I constantly buy and trade, the fruits of it which is my net value, will grow. More money I am able to control, the accessibility—deciding on how I can spend my time.

I do take my physical condition very seriously. It is so convenient to live in a complex that has an indoor gym and I am extremely grateful to have had that for the past five years now. Working out sucks sometimes, but staying fit is so vital to being productive in almost anything.


Let's hope this phase of paralysis comes to an end. I aim to release more content and write more lyrics for my upcoming album, DREAMERS of EDEN.

The earth was created in six days—God rested on the seventh. Question goes, when DREAM is asleep, is he awake. The answer to what has fallen, may rise and shine. Yet, two-thirds of one hundred is where the decimal lies. Cheers to the beast. Ones and Zeros—binary code. So what may be obvious, may not yet show. The creation of hubris, will it conquer souls? The lion, the wolf, the trident covered in snow. NEXT JULY, a melodic garden of stories and scenes comes about. Hear ye, to the king who played jester. Hear ye, to the swans who paddled with no effort. Listen to DREAM, who sings a story of what is to be, what is to be felt.

ON TRACK TOWARD Superstition

I sat there daydreaming as usual. 

The train was gently rocking its passengers. The tip of the sun was gleaming over the silhouette mountains, casting a warm ambiance to the metallic body of the train. I sat openly by the front row seats, wearing a red company polo shirt with blue trousers and black rugged boots—radio buzzing of railroad talk clipped to my side as I pretentiously carried a cheap clipboard of operation schedules and random doodles. 

The train begins to slow down as we arrive near a commuter rail station. I stood up, shuffling to the door, accounting for any passengers that were about to exit. Finally, a slight rollback—movement of the train stops, the metal doors slowly slide open, and I step out to check if all the doors are aligned to the platform. I gazed to the opposite front-end of the train like a referee watching a critical down during a high school varsity game, as I waved my arm forward a few times, shaping my hand like a knife to the train engineer for a proceed go. The doors clunked shut and the train continued to move north.

As I moved forward on the train, I heard a, “gwaaahh”. I turned, trying to identify where this gwah sound was coming from—if a passenger was in dire need of something. Then I looked out a window, a man standing on the platform waiting by the track next to ours, waving his arms—screaming. It seemed he was waiting for the southbound train, as it was possibly running late. I radioed in to our dispatch, “disgruntled passenger on platform at station”, to give a heads up to the other train picking him up.

We reached the next station, as I waved a go to the engineer. She then waved for me to come to her. As I approached, she exclaimed in an anxious voice, “we’re going to be here for a minute; apparently there are people on the alignment”. 

“People on the train tracks, like railroad workers?!”, I sputtered.

“No. Like trespassers!”, she added. 

I then moved from standing by her cab window to inside the tiny engineer cab, squeezing next to her, listening to the radio for further instructions. After a minute, the radio sputtered that there was a dog on the alignment, and people were attempting to find it. Caught by surprise, I murmured, “figure I’d do my job and notify the passengers”.

I walked down the aisles, alerting passengers our reason for stopping. There is a dog on the alignment. Nearly, every passenger sympathized. However, as each passing yearning minute went by, slowly the passengers became uneasy—some people—sweaty and apprehensive. I was feeling nervous myself, so I walked through the aisles sputtering, “remember folks, it’s Friday, the thirteenth of October. This was bound to happen!.”

Finally, after waiting nearly an equivalent of a standard lunch break, the train began moving again. I realized it was dark outside, as if this night was going to be eventful, filled with horror. Security had removed all the people out of the alignment, however the dog has yet to be found, according to the all knowing and buzzing radio. I began thinking what if this was no ordinary dog—what if—a werewolf.

We picked up another batch of passengers from the following station. I sat by the group of men barking up the reasons for our odd delay. Theory after theory discussed, debated. 

Heard a dog worth thousands was stolen, went missing. 

Heard government operations were happening, dog story was just a facade.

Heard war in the middle east is the reason for the missing dog.

Train stopped. The passengers went quiet. The radio went buzzing, “Dog [hisss]... milepost [hisss]… over!” I jumped up, marching in doubletime through the aisles toward the engineer room. Each passenger moving their magnetic head, their eyes toward me. I glanced at each and every one; a few faces with the look of concern, while others—disappointment.

As I opened the door, the engineer was glaring out the window. The train’s auxiliary lights shined through the stone tied tracks, as the alignment was surrounded by cheap wired fences. The engineer realized I was standing behind her, then pointed out the window. My eyes followed her finger, but I couldn’t see what she saw, except for a black dot on the stone part of the ballast. I adjusted my glasses, squinting my eyes. A black puppy. But how? How did the engineer stop just—give or take—twenty feet from the little fragile spirit.

This is my chance to be a hero, I thought. I can put on my orange high-visibility and reflective vest, step off the train, pick up the little black turd, and board the train with cheers and applause as a local hero. I immediately announced my solution to the engineer, asking for permission from dispatch to step off the train. The radio hissed, “No, just remain there”. Talk about killing the vibe. Minutes later, the engineer was then instructed to sound the mighty horn, trying to lure the puppy off the ballast. The puppy, terrified, remained frozen. I thought, all this time, I’d been saved this dog.

Moments passed, police vehicles parked from a distance. An officer on the tracks, covering his eyes from the bright light, walked towards the train. The engineer quickly dimmed the blinding lights. I thought, this was supposed to be my moment. The cop picked up the puppy, as he kissed its forehead and the dog replied with a lick to his face. I turned around, shut the cab door, then unceremoniously told the passengers, yay, the puppy has been saved. One woman at the back cheered, one guy clapped, everyone else asked… so we’re moving soon, right?!

WINGS TOO SORE TO SOAR

Society makes me feel like a bird in a cage. Or so it seems. Being confined in this human body, there are limits. And if I were to feel free as a bird outside his cage, would I be able to spread my wings and fly.

My mom agreed she would accompany me out of town, possibly for a couple days. It’s my three day “birthday” weekend, and I wanted to hike a mountain. I chose Sunshine Peak, a Colorado 14er located in the San Juan mountain range.

We blasted towards Sunshine around 9pm, taking 285 South. The sky held a half-moon as the road began to become narrow through the mountainous silhouette. I would lose internet connection during the drive, thinking to myself, damn, I should have downloaded a playlist through my Spotify premium. As we were near Fairplay, it became an open road with the distant mountains surrounding the area where one side, the moon gleamed, and on the left side, deep in the darkness, lightning flashed.

We passed the Lake San Cristobal sign along Cinnamon Pass, shortly after the GPS had us parked in the shoulder lane of the rocky (County Road), CR30. It was 2:30am, and I had already driven 5 and a half hours. The light of the car could luminate for only so far, being pitch black as far as the eye can see. I opened the door and it was very chilly and damp, reminding me of the desired hoodie I should’ve brought. I used my neck lamp to see if there was a clear path—no luck. So we remained parked as my mom and I grabbed a little shut eye for a few hours.

It was 6:00am, and I continued west on CR30, through its rocky canyon road. It wasn’t for another 45 minutes until we actually reached the base and campground of Sunshine Peak.

The reality was my front thighs were sore and cramping up. If I were to hike, that’d been a long wait for my mom. It was already 6:45am and I—projected—wouldn’t be back in the car until 6:45pm if I were to hike Sunshine. In other words, maybe this bird’s wings were too sore to fly.

Base of Redcloud Peak & Sunshine Peak

We continued west through the bulges of rock. Note, if you ever plan to drive on CR30, make sure you drive a 4 wheeler—something like a Jeep. It was the end of the road, as we arrived near a bowl—a valley known as American Basin of the San Juan mountain range. It was surreal and had a Swiss look to it. 

Hiking w Matt

Episode 8

Blanca Peak, Costilla County, Colorado

BLANCA PEAK

Summiting an approximate two and two-third mile high mountain in Colorado, gives spiritual nourishment and humility, and a supreme feeling of accomplishment. From my experience, there’s no easy way to the top, only by shuffling my two feet forward and slowly. Yet, the march to the summit doesn’t just start at the base of the mountain—there’s the scheduling process, the preparation, the physical conditioning—as though stars need to align before the moment is right. There are no guarantees the summit will be reached.

Eternal Raven At Last is the sixth installment of the mericanDREAM saga following: CYBER CIRCLES & A COSMIC HEART, Palace of the Sun, The Little Lunar Album, Wolves Are Very Emotional, and IINDEPENDENCE. In this sugary installment, Matthew A Cruz aka mericanDREAM spews out over 3,000 words throughout the album, enunciating the word DREAM just well over 60 times. 

IN THIS SUGARY INSTALLMENT

Artwork drawn by Matthew A Cruz, featuring The Raven, King DREAM as a Lion and The Unicorn of Duchess

The story is going to be a smoothly paved trail for the listener to stroll on. As it is implied, there the Raven, Her Majesty, who carries a message from world to world. DREAM who is king, must hearken from those he crosses paths with. Yet, if  DREAM is brave enough to play matador towards fate as the bull, he might wake up in a place where he does not desire to be.

Matthew A Cruz aka mericanDREAM recoding sounds, such a hitting as tea cup with a spoon

As the writer, Matthew shares values, illuminating through biblical theology and Greek mythology. A hint of astronomy, in a discography-continuity embracing the sun, the moon, the sky and the stars. In the depths of Hollywoo—an original reference from NETFLIX’s BoJack Horseman—DREAMREALM is inhabited by animals. DREAM refers to himself as a leo, a lion. The occurring deuteragonist, possible protagonist (depending on how the listener interprets the album), the Raven is personified as a beautiful and mystical woman who is as God’s favorite messenger. Will she scream NEVERMORE to king DREAM.

In a conference room, where mericanDREAM exhibits his production

June 20th, the album was scheduled released on all major platforms such Spotify, iTunes, YouTube Music, Tidel, Amazon, Pandora, and more.

HIKING WITH MATT

DIGITAL DESIGN

My Personal Glimpse on Making an Album

It was a pleasant experience working on this album, even though looking back now, it felt so brief. Is my music mainstream worthy? Nah. And I’m okay with that. I did attempt to engage with other artists, even featured a young and pretty violinist, and an energetic lyrical freestylist—compensating them for their work. I hired my buddy, using my Canon EOS Rebel T7 with the 75-300 millimeter lens to take the photo of me for the album cover. He did a great job. Yes, I’m aware of the practicality in making an album while juggling between two to three jobs is fiercely difficult, but it is well worth it. Marketing for an audience—the proper audience—will come in time. Maybe. The focus was… to create and properly engage.

Desmond Teal focusing the Canon EOS Rebel T7 with the 75-300 millimeter lens on the stand for a clear and quality shot.

Drafting compositions in a melodic manner, including structuring and identifying chords as themes definitely helped in creating an impactful story. I scaled between defining characters and settings to what does their theme sound like. 808s and percussion lacked more than the melody, as I heavily depended on Splice samples—though I did manipulate the module, pitch, or length of the samples for a more original feel. Also for the bass, I didn’t spend nearly as much time as I did for the chord structure of the (treble clef) melody.

I maintained the mythological ethos, carried by the lyrics I wrote. The story is going to be a clear trail for the listener to stroll on. Yet, the moral of the story may vary between each listener.

The dynamic vibrations of this album—utilized resources included a community center grand piano, a trumpet, a three stringed and out of tuned violin (that I attempted to play), an acoustic guitar, ikea tall chairs and a support beam for drums, primarily recorded by an ICE snowball mic, and processed by FL Studios software. 

Matthew A Cruz aka mericanDREAM recoding the vocals, normally planting the mic between a stack of books inside a conference/library room

The work does take a toll on the mind and body, and my personal freetime. I couldn’t dedicate myself to the gym as much. I couldn’t calibrate myself properly for my professional side. It is very taxing on the mind when you take your craft very seriously. But like the old adage says, don’t take yourself too seriously. I feel when I needed to, I lightened up. I try to do different activities, disrupting certain thought patterns. I explored my social circle, even met some people I feel are a positive addition in my life. And I continued to be a fan of things that have nothing to do with my craft. From Mid-December to the end of May, the process has been absorbent.

Matthew A Cruz aka mericanDREAM and the facility cat having a jam session.