I could really use a wish right now.
First off, my hair's too long.
A lot of people don't think that that's really much of a problem, but in all honesty my hair tends to bug me. It's one of the few things I'm actually self-conscious about. There are occasions that come along where I wish I could cut it all off.
But for some reason I can't.
I guess it's the dream of just cutting ties and heading out on the road. I honestly love driving. There are few things I find more comforting, freeing or pure. Long drives through the night, with good music blaring and the world just outside, not within. My own little retreat from the world, in the world.
I love highways and city lights. Deep grey thrown up against a peering night sky, clouds fogging up what little light can be exchanged through the city curtains.
I think one of the greatest appeals of driving is that it's purposeful. You may not have a destination in mind, but the sheer activity of movement, of interacting with a machine, or gliding along through the night across the man made landscapes of cement and steel, it feels given. It feels like you may actually have a purpose, even if you don't.
Sometimes I feel like I'm feeling my life from weekend to weekend, month to month, holiday to holiday. Like, what happens in the meantime, that thing that's supposed to one day help me make money and get a job is some sort of sick dream I wish I could wake up from. It's just annoying.
I played video games with friends tonight. And I talked with people, and made plans. And it felt good. And I forgot that 7 am comes a hell of a lot earlier than 7 pm. And I'm not saying I wish I could just give it all up and just hang, but sometimes I wonder.
I mean honestly. What's the point of a job? To make money to support yourself, support a family? What then? What's your family for? Are your kids supposed to go through the same shit just to wind up doing the same thing you did for them so that they could wind up doing the same thing you did for them? It's a self-perpetuating cycle that I can't honestly see a point in. Sure, it's good to provide a living, but what is that living if it doesn't provide an end? What sort of outcome can you get from supporting life?
More life I suppose. Contrived, it means a continuing of human life. You've done your part in keeping mankind going. High five. Now go die so the next generation can be successful.
Is that honestly all it really is?
I don't believe it. I like to think that beating the shit outta your friends in Mortal Kombat vs. DC means something, that it means that the happiness you're experiencing is what you should ultimately try for. But it doesn't help perpetuate life, it doesn't help do anything really, Except maybe get you a few more gamer points.
But is happiness really that worthless? Should we sacrifice that, those moments, so we can study for tests, practice for interviews, work on homework and shuffle papers? It just seems empty. Few things seem to contain substance that are supposed to these days for me.
Maybe I'm burned out, just disillusioned. Missing her. Scared of tomorrow. Whatever. But honestly, it seems like that should mean something more, that car ride in the night, that perfectly executed combo, that laugh from them.
I like to think that does more to relieve the ache than a promotion at a desk job. But perhaps I'm just burned out.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Life Changing Moments Told In Screen Caps
In honor of my roommate telling how to finally use screen captures (you hit function, not control...) I give you a major turning point and decision in my life, told through sloppy visual computer picture aids.
You see, I'm trying to decide my Major. My ultimate choice would be Philosophy. I like thinking, and the classes I've taken in philosophy are really great. The spirit of it and the quest for understanding is really meaningful for me, and I really want to learn more. The one issue with my passion for the subject is I've never been entirely sure what I can do with my life with it. Today it was time to change that, and finally make the decision as to what I would Major in in college.
Sitting on the Gettysburg College site today, I decided to figure out at least where I could go with a Major in Philosophy. I punched in "Major" in the search box, and stumbled upon a feature I had either passed over or not seen on the Gettysburg College site. There on the page telling how you apply for Majors was a little link entitled "What Can I do with this Degree?"
(Click to enlarge the pictures if you really need to see that badly. The line I'm talking about is at the top center in blue.)
Curious, and needing to figure out what direction my academic life should take (and where Philosophy could fit into that), I ventured forth and clicked. It took me to a list.
Being ever more curious, I indulged in seeing what some majors were like. I clicked through Computer Science and Political Science. I decided to see what it said for English Majors as I do like writing.
Wordy and longer than all the others. Did I really expect anything else?
I then proceeded to check out the Theatre Arts description and it's potential uses for my life's course.
Pretty standard, global, and nice. I liked the two descriptions, but still I was not convinced. Maybe a double Major in Theatre Arts and English would be good, but Philosophy...
I was excited, expectant. I know Philosophy isn't terribly exciting for some, or useful in any real sense, but I've never really cared. I love thinking, and I love all the sorts of world issues you encounter in thinking through thinking. It's my type of subject, and it has been important in the shaping of the world. I don't really know what I want to do with my life, so Philosophy has always seemed like it could give me some answers, or at least helped me down the path.
The only problem I've ever encountered with this approach is the one mentioned before: what do modern day Philosophers do? What do Philosophy Majors do after they get the degree? I really had no clue, but I knew that I loved the subject. If I could only understand where I could go with it, it would probably be the perfect choice.
Anticipation building, I clicked on the link to read the description and see where my future with a Philosophy Major could take me.
Double Major in Theatre Arts and English it is then. Thanks for bearing witness to this life changing moment of mine.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Sweater Vest Thursday
It is common knowledge that at least one Thursday of every month requires a sweater vest. Most people think that this Thursday is the third Thursday, but since Sweater Vest Thursday is a fashion holiday, it really occurs more on a whim.
It's a sacred part of Thursdays (whichever one they may be). So sacred, in point of fact, that should you forget your sweater vest on such a Thursday, much like this one, you will be hated by all and shunned until that time as which you can receive one and partake in the holiday.
Thus starts my tale of daring adventure.
It was today, though probably more like yesterday now, or even the day before that. It could, in point of fact, be several days past by now, but also several years. It really depends upon the time in which you are reading about this.
But enough about Al.
It was a Thursday at some point in the past, which may or may not be recent depending upon the observational time of this writing in correlation to when this actually happened. But I can assure you, it was a Thursday. I had previously discoursed with my compatriots the previous night about the merits of sweater vests, and in so doing we came up with a holiday of right jolly fashion: Sweater Vest Thursday, that most sacred of days. We would celebrate it simply by wearing a sweater vest the day after, and enjoy the multitudinous magnificencies of our over clothing.
I discovered that night after, however, that my particular sweater vest had taken leave of reality, chiefly my room.
It still remains at large. But after washing it a few times it should got down to a loose medium.
After about an hour of struggling to obtain it, I threw in the proverbial towel and went to sleep, disappointed in my failure of living up to the expectations of the holiday which I myself had created.
The nest day provided no comfort for my folly. My compatriots, priorly mentioned, were utterly disappointed in my appearance. I realized I must render the situation better, and thus I took it upon myself to make it so.
I set out on my bicycle, with a rough knowledge of a "shortcut" a friend had told me about to get to the local Wal-Mart. After roughly 20 minutes of pedaling in what I thought was the right direction, I realized I was utterly wrong in that assumption that it had been anything close to what may even be considered "right." I preceded to pedal twenty minutes back along the highway, observing several glances from the people I had passed the first time, all befuddled in nature.
I set out the long way, through town center, around that round about, and out along the busiest highways for miles. Surprisingly, this was by far the easiest and most pleasant part of my morning foray. It was mostly downhill and while I did almost get hit by three cars suddenly turning into a diner, I managed to live through the ordeal, none the worse for wear, and arrive at my destination of purchasing that elusive garment, the sweater vest.
I took leave of my bike at a bench, and proceeded inside.
This was the most fortunate part of my day, as there was indeed a 2 for 1 sale on all sweater vests in the store. It was miraculous, a divine inception of sweet sweatered vests, all mine for the taking. I shelled out my monies, and after a interlude in which the cashier figured out how to work the new system, I received my purchase.
It is at this point in our tale where things could have, and should have ended. As you have clearly read, I had at this point in the journey purchased my sweater vest, and thus was in fine form for the day's festivities. But you see, it is rarely that I get to go out to Wal-Mart, and I had been lacking in juice in my living quarters for several days. All there really was to drink where I lived was water and Natty Light, which is to really say that all there really was to drink was water, as I do not drink, and if I did drink, I would not waste my brain cells on something as unrefined and repugnant as Natty Light.
Thus, as I took leave of the store, I saw across the highway that Wal-Mart, with all of its 100% natural apple juices, and crunch bars, and Nerf guns and the like. You see, my Nerf gun (a shotgun which had quite a nice range) had been trashed by my suite mate, and seeing as no replacement had yet been offered from him, this too was a large draw for me to obtain.
And I rarely went out and shopped, so why not indulge a little?
It is again at this point, I should remind you, when things began to go wrong when they really should have ended.
Getting to the Wal-Mart was easy. As was obtaining the Nerf gun (a maverick with a drum barrel for the darts), the 3 jugs of apple juice, and the various candies and of course deodorant.
You can never have enough deodorant.
My petty purchases purchased, I proceeded to pause at the place where the public transit should arrive. 15 minutes I waited for the trolley and whence it came I realized I had a conundrum: I still had my bike with me. The woman driving the trolley had no clue as to how to attach my bike to the front, so with much awkward effort, I wrangled the rapscallion onto the trolley.
The trolleys are rather nice in my town. They are old fashioned, a throwback to 1940's Chicago styling, and very comfortable to be transported in in my opinion. The driver was lovely, and we talked about many things that a passenger and a driver are want to talk of: the weather, my courses and credits (as she called them), where she lived, where I lived, and vague comments about children and bikes.
After a short drive, we arrived at the main hub by the theater, about a 15 minute walk or 5 minute bike ride away from where I live.
It is again at this moment when yet another poor choice was executed.
I decided to get off the bus.
I was a bit impatient after having sat at the hub for ten minutes, and figured with proper balancing of the juices in their respective bags and holding the nerf gun under my arm I could easily make it back to my living quarters. After getting the bike off of the trolley, again with awkward maneuvering, I set up my purchases upon my bike and set off.
Now, the theater is actually quite large. It houses an old train station, with railroad tracks beside it. Very picturesque. It is over these tracks I attempted to go, and it is that choice which finally pushed my up till then very good luck over board.
I crashed. In splendid fashion, sweatered and sweaty, juice flying across the tracks, my telephone being run over and lost into the rocks. I somehow managed to stay atop my bike and only came off once I hit gravel, which did not take kindly to being interrupted in the midst of all its sitting. Thus, it slid and slanted and took me down in a most sweatered and vestly way.
Onlookers will tell you that it was quite a bemusing and somewhat distressing spectacle. But I wouldn't know.
I attempted to gather my belongings and use the bags to balance them on the handle bars. But to no avail. I finally crashed again on a corner near an old frat building. Exhausted and grumpy, scuffed and with a hit upon the head from the last landing, I gave in.
I attempted to get a hold of a friend and ask them if they could come and help me, as my bike and self were not really in proper sense to be going anywhere soon. It was only after 4 phone calls, 2 texts to different people, and finally a phone call to another person that I got a hold of someone who could place her on the line with me.
What is the point of owning a cell phone and having the ability to communicate instantly if when someone tries to do so you do not? Nothing I say. What a society we live in where we have that advantage to abuse. I digress.
Needless to say, she did not want to help me. Angered, I hung up with a final "fine." Agitated, bruised, and with no means I could see of transporting my stuff, I was at a loss. I rather regret these actions and this anger, as it was not at all about the person whom I called, but rather the fact that I been so pathetic and weak.
We often find ourselves express our anger at others when it should itself be expressed at us. This is my sincerest regret that I did not do that.
I was stranded at this point.
It occurred to me several minutes later how wonderful bike locks are. Their coiling nature is very good for holding bikes to things like gates and posts. Thus I set about holding 3 containers of juice and a large box to the bike with it.
It worked almost great.
After seventeen minutes of pushing my bike across campus in a somewhat strange fashion, and after hauling all of my newly gotten nicities through the window of my room, I locked up my bike, went inside, and sat down here to write this.
Next time, ride trolley the entire time, buy less things, and above all else, do not forget my sweater vest.
Happy Sweater Vest Thursday everyone.
It's a sacred part of Thursdays (whichever one they may be). So sacred, in point of fact, that should you forget your sweater vest on such a Thursday, much like this one, you will be hated by all and shunned until that time as which you can receive one and partake in the holiday.
Thus starts my tale of daring adventure.
It was today, though probably more like yesterday now, or even the day before that. It could, in point of fact, be several days past by now, but also several years. It really depends upon the time in which you are reading about this.
But enough about Al.
It was a Thursday at some point in the past, which may or may not be recent depending upon the observational time of this writing in correlation to when this actually happened. But I can assure you, it was a Thursday. I had previously discoursed with my compatriots the previous night about the merits of sweater vests, and in so doing we came up with a holiday of right jolly fashion: Sweater Vest Thursday, that most sacred of days. We would celebrate it simply by wearing a sweater vest the day after, and enjoy the multitudinous magnificencies of our over clothing.
I discovered that night after, however, that my particular sweater vest had taken leave of reality, chiefly my room.
It still remains at large. But after washing it a few times it should got down to a loose medium.
After about an hour of struggling to obtain it, I threw in the proverbial towel and went to sleep, disappointed in my failure of living up to the expectations of the holiday which I myself had created.
The nest day provided no comfort for my folly. My compatriots, priorly mentioned, were utterly disappointed in my appearance. I realized I must render the situation better, and thus I took it upon myself to make it so.
I set out on my bicycle, with a rough knowledge of a "shortcut" a friend had told me about to get to the local Wal-Mart. After roughly 20 minutes of pedaling in what I thought was the right direction, I realized I was utterly wrong in that assumption that it had been anything close to what may even be considered "right." I preceded to pedal twenty minutes back along the highway, observing several glances from the people I had passed the first time, all befuddled in nature.
I set out the long way, through town center, around that round about, and out along the busiest highways for miles. Surprisingly, this was by far the easiest and most pleasant part of my morning foray. It was mostly downhill and while I did almost get hit by three cars suddenly turning into a diner, I managed to live through the ordeal, none the worse for wear, and arrive at my destination of purchasing that elusive garment, the sweater vest.
I took leave of my bike at a bench, and proceeded inside.
This was the most fortunate part of my day, as there was indeed a 2 for 1 sale on all sweater vests in the store. It was miraculous, a divine inception of sweet sweatered vests, all mine for the taking. I shelled out my monies, and after a interlude in which the cashier figured out how to work the new system, I received my purchase.
It is at this point in our tale where things could have, and should have ended. As you have clearly read, I had at this point in the journey purchased my sweater vest, and thus was in fine form for the day's festivities. But you see, it is rarely that I get to go out to Wal-Mart, and I had been lacking in juice in my living quarters for several days. All there really was to drink where I lived was water and Natty Light, which is to really say that all there really was to drink was water, as I do not drink, and if I did drink, I would not waste my brain cells on something as unrefined and repugnant as Natty Light.
Thus, as I took leave of the store, I saw across the highway that Wal-Mart, with all of its 100% natural apple juices, and crunch bars, and Nerf guns and the like. You see, my Nerf gun (a shotgun which had quite a nice range) had been trashed by my suite mate, and seeing as no replacement had yet been offered from him, this too was a large draw for me to obtain.
And I rarely went out and shopped, so why not indulge a little?
It is again at this point, I should remind you, when things began to go wrong when they really should have ended.
Getting to the Wal-Mart was easy. As was obtaining the Nerf gun (a maverick with a drum barrel for the darts), the 3 jugs of apple juice, and the various candies and of course deodorant.
You can never have enough deodorant.
My petty purchases purchased, I proceeded to pause at the place where the public transit should arrive. 15 minutes I waited for the trolley and whence it came I realized I had a conundrum: I still had my bike with me. The woman driving the trolley had no clue as to how to attach my bike to the front, so with much awkward effort, I wrangled the rapscallion onto the trolley.
The trolleys are rather nice in my town. They are old fashioned, a throwback to 1940's Chicago styling, and very comfortable to be transported in in my opinion. The driver was lovely, and we talked about many things that a passenger and a driver are want to talk of: the weather, my courses and credits (as she called them), where she lived, where I lived, and vague comments about children and bikes.
After a short drive, we arrived at the main hub by the theater, about a 15 minute walk or 5 minute bike ride away from where I live.
It is again at this moment when yet another poor choice was executed.
I decided to get off the bus.
I was a bit impatient after having sat at the hub for ten minutes, and figured with proper balancing of the juices in their respective bags and holding the nerf gun under my arm I could easily make it back to my living quarters. After getting the bike off of the trolley, again with awkward maneuvering, I set up my purchases upon my bike and set off.
Now, the theater is actually quite large. It houses an old train station, with railroad tracks beside it. Very picturesque. It is over these tracks I attempted to go, and it is that choice which finally pushed my up till then very good luck over board.
I crashed. In splendid fashion, sweatered and sweaty, juice flying across the tracks, my telephone being run over and lost into the rocks. I somehow managed to stay atop my bike and only came off once I hit gravel, which did not take kindly to being interrupted in the midst of all its sitting. Thus, it slid and slanted and took me down in a most sweatered and vestly way.
Onlookers will tell you that it was quite a bemusing and somewhat distressing spectacle. But I wouldn't know.
I attempted to gather my belongings and use the bags to balance them on the handle bars. But to no avail. I finally crashed again on a corner near an old frat building. Exhausted and grumpy, scuffed and with a hit upon the head from the last landing, I gave in.
I attempted to get a hold of a friend and ask them if they could come and help me, as my bike and self were not really in proper sense to be going anywhere soon. It was only after 4 phone calls, 2 texts to different people, and finally a phone call to another person that I got a hold of someone who could place her on the line with me.
What is the point of owning a cell phone and having the ability to communicate instantly if when someone tries to do so you do not? Nothing I say. What a society we live in where we have that advantage to abuse. I digress.
Needless to say, she did not want to help me. Angered, I hung up with a final "fine." Agitated, bruised, and with no means I could see of transporting my stuff, I was at a loss. I rather regret these actions and this anger, as it was not at all about the person whom I called, but rather the fact that I been so pathetic and weak.
We often find ourselves express our anger at others when it should itself be expressed at us. This is my sincerest regret that I did not do that.
I was stranded at this point.
It occurred to me several minutes later how wonderful bike locks are. Their coiling nature is very good for holding bikes to things like gates and posts. Thus I set about holding 3 containers of juice and a large box to the bike with it.
It worked almost great.
After seventeen minutes of pushing my bike across campus in a somewhat strange fashion, and after hauling all of my newly gotten nicities through the window of my room, I locked up my bike, went inside, and sat down here to write this.
Next time, ride trolley the entire time, buy less things, and above all else, do not forget my sweater vest.
Happy Sweater Vest Thursday everyone.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Chili Chili
Let's talk chili.
You may remember at one point I mentioned that I would make the winning eats recipe from a prior post from a while ago. I decided to make them all and rate them.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
First one: Sweet Chili.
2 cans Hormel chili
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons honey
1 stick of cinnamon
It's a simple dish for the cost conscious college student. All the materials can be gathered from Wal-Mart (much as I despise it, it's the only thing around). You follow the directions for making the chili and add the other ingredients in relatively early in the process while it is still beginning to heat up. Make sure to stir them in. For the cinnamon, just crush it up and put it in. No worries.
To be honest, it's a sexily delicious dish. The juxtaposition of sweet and and very spicy is delicious. If you're craving that sort of home comfort but looking for something sumptuous, this is your dish.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
White-trash ambrosia, or as I like to call it, Cheesy Chili
2 cans Hormel Chili
1 block velveta cheese-like-product (I personally used that cheese in bag you get for tacos with a quarter brick of sharp cheddar that was lying around)
Place together in bowl.
Microwave until melty.
Stir.
PIG THE HELL OUT.
Another relatively "harmless" chili, the mix of dairy and spice has always been a wonderful one in my opinion. With Hormel chili it works especially well. It is indeed a good taste. I recommend putting in enough cheese until your chili takes on either a light brown or a very dark rough orange color. It's not done until then.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This'll be the first in what I hope will be a more positive take on the college experience from me. I like having a place to vet my frustrations, but I keep forgetting that people actually tend to read this stuff.
Meh, still a revelation for me. So, no worries, I'm not manically depressed and in danger of being suicidal. I'm just in college. There's a difference, but only sometimes. ;D
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Ail in F Minor
I don't even wanna hear it.
There's those moments in a day when you wish you could just slam on your headphones and drift up and away into someplace which is far away, like space, but more like the rim of a cloud in substance.
My eyes shutter with the drop of each beat. I try to blur out reality with the sound of heavy metal screaming against my skull.
Honestly, I know I'm supposed to give my best. But what's my best supposed to be if it's not even worth giving? I have serious doubts about this reality, but I'm pretty sure they're mutual. So does that make it okay?
If I could ride my bike off a jump, if I could gain enough momentum, I think I could break the sky and just drift up into that space along the clouds. I woke up this morning and it was cold, which I appreciated, because it meant I could feel my heart beating.
It's a sycophantic sort of relationship I have with myself. I think I'm losing too.
If homework was a bridge and I was a chain I think the clattering wouldn't end. It'd break, and it'd fold up into that deep nothing I wish upwards, and it'd still linger on to cross.
I've got that wrench in my stomach, that deep pit I wish I could retreat into. But let's be serious for a moment. I can't actually suck myself inside an emotional pit churning in my stomach. That might make me human. And that's unrealistic.
I've got that song on repeat. I've got it banging against my eardrums so hard I can feel it in my heartstrings. I feel grounded, but at the same time if I could just get up I think I could fly, even with the weight, even with the painful frustration of passing on another attempted failure at concepts I know but don't care to engage with.
Because let's be serious. I'm just doing it for the money, so that I can go here. That passion died out when it was beaten out of me, measure by measure, until that spark I held as a kid couldn't even stand without help. And who walks when they'd rather fly?
It's a catch 22: I'm only doing it for the money, but for the money I gotta do well. But I don't care about it because I'm just doing it for the money, so I don't do that well. But I have to do well for the money.
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, and pirouette.
I've got that song on repeat till it bleeds. I hope it does, but I'm afraid it might hurt. And that'd mean I'm human. Another little catch there.
It's amazing what letters and numbers do to a perfectly capable and sane person. The symbolism we a lot to such things has an amazing capacity to ruin us completely.
I turn up the volume to blister levels. Maybe if I can't hear I won't be able to read. Better logic has proved to be successful. Maybe this one will too.
I think the main failure of the human race is the decision that we had to assign meaning to bullshit in order for us to have a productive society. What does a computer really mean? I look at it and I see circuitry, metal casing, a mouse, plastic. And yet, contained within that energy is another world of interactions with people I have never met, am not with, and in many cases may never know. It's a fascinating example of one of the many cages we've built ourselves in.
I think I'd be pretty good at hunting. Or at least gathering. Torch the banks and boil the money for stew and roughage. Let's just wipe our asses on the flags and cut down the monuments and testaments to humanity's ability to completely fuck everyone with made up shit.
I could enjoy living a short life trying to float up with stars. And just drift. Do we really need a meaning for what we see in the mirror? Isn't it good enough that we can see, that we have a mirror, that we know that the thing looking back at us is us? At what point in history did we decide that the things we had weren't good enough, that we had to probe, and pick, and investigate, gouge and tear up every possible part of the human experience for investigation. Isn't it enough we have a human to experience for us?
I don't know if any of this made any sense or not, but I sure as heck could use just about anything to get my mind off that F I just got. And sometimes unadulterated literary rage is good for that.
It's also good to just drift away. Unfortunately, I forgot my wings. This is still the next best thing.
There's those moments in a day when you wish you could just slam on your headphones and drift up and away into someplace which is far away, like space, but more like the rim of a cloud in substance.
My eyes shutter with the drop of each beat. I try to blur out reality with the sound of heavy metal screaming against my skull.
Honestly, I know I'm supposed to give my best. But what's my best supposed to be if it's not even worth giving? I have serious doubts about this reality, but I'm pretty sure they're mutual. So does that make it okay?
If I could ride my bike off a jump, if I could gain enough momentum, I think I could break the sky and just drift up into that space along the clouds. I woke up this morning and it was cold, which I appreciated, because it meant I could feel my heart beating.
It's a sycophantic sort of relationship I have with myself. I think I'm losing too.
If homework was a bridge and I was a chain I think the clattering wouldn't end. It'd break, and it'd fold up into that deep nothing I wish upwards, and it'd still linger on to cross.
I've got that wrench in my stomach, that deep pit I wish I could retreat into. But let's be serious for a moment. I can't actually suck myself inside an emotional pit churning in my stomach. That might make me human. And that's unrealistic.
I've got that song on repeat. I've got it banging against my eardrums so hard I can feel it in my heartstrings. I feel grounded, but at the same time if I could just get up I think I could fly, even with the weight, even with the painful frustration of passing on another attempted failure at concepts I know but don't care to engage with.
Because let's be serious. I'm just doing it for the money, so that I can go here. That passion died out when it was beaten out of me, measure by measure, until that spark I held as a kid couldn't even stand without help. And who walks when they'd rather fly?
It's a catch 22: I'm only doing it for the money, but for the money I gotta do well. But I don't care about it because I'm just doing it for the money, so I don't do that well. But I have to do well for the money.
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, and pirouette.
I've got that song on repeat till it bleeds. I hope it does, but I'm afraid it might hurt. And that'd mean I'm human. Another little catch there.
It's amazing what letters and numbers do to a perfectly capable and sane person. The symbolism we a lot to such things has an amazing capacity to ruin us completely.
I turn up the volume to blister levels. Maybe if I can't hear I won't be able to read. Better logic has proved to be successful. Maybe this one will too.
I think the main failure of the human race is the decision that we had to assign meaning to bullshit in order for us to have a productive society. What does a computer really mean? I look at it and I see circuitry, metal casing, a mouse, plastic. And yet, contained within that energy is another world of interactions with people I have never met, am not with, and in many cases may never know. It's a fascinating example of one of the many cages we've built ourselves in.
I think I'd be pretty good at hunting. Or at least gathering. Torch the banks and boil the money for stew and roughage. Let's just wipe our asses on the flags and cut down the monuments and testaments to humanity's ability to completely fuck everyone with made up shit.
I could enjoy living a short life trying to float up with stars. And just drift. Do we really need a meaning for what we see in the mirror? Isn't it good enough that we can see, that we have a mirror, that we know that the thing looking back at us is us? At what point in history did we decide that the things we had weren't good enough, that we had to probe, and pick, and investigate, gouge and tear up every possible part of the human experience for investigation. Isn't it enough we have a human to experience for us?
I don't know if any of this made any sense or not, but I sure as heck could use just about anything to get my mind off that F I just got. And sometimes unadulterated literary rage is good for that.
It's also good to just drift away. Unfortunately, I forgot my wings. This is still the next best thing.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Outer World
Are you glad I found you?
We all make choices at points in our life, and at the time, we may not even be aware we're making them. They're shadows of actions, whispers of the shades we leave from our movement and interaction, that, while they occur, we don't really much think about them.
And then you throw on your sleep, and you look at that mirror on your door, and you realize that somewhere down the line of life you stopped being young, and started being hurt. It's not some kid looking back, it's a person of...
Something.
We all make choices, and sometimes we regret them. Sometimes we don't. But most of the time, we're not thinking about making them, we just are. That's the majority of how we live our lives these days, most days, old days: we just are. We're not actively thinking about how we react to any given situation. We do our work, eat our food, it's not like we consciously make these choices. They just are.
And somehow in the phase of these repetitions of half mind we allow those actions we should care about to fall in line. Sometimes, we're shadows, casting more of ourselves about without realizing what the effects are.
And then we make choices, just like we wake up. It's not a conscious thing, change. But that mirror tells you that somehow, it was in some way. That off hand comment, that decision to walk back with someone else, that call you didn't make, that lie you didn't tell, they all are staring back.
And sometimes, you're not sure you want them to.
Where the hell did I go? How did I make those choices?
Who knows.
Nights spent talking, spent walking, spent driving away from those things you didn't choose to do or not do, but didn't know you were or weren't doing at the time. It's like a dark road in a crowded light-less neighborhood. It's all there, the people, shades of life in rest, but you're the only real one alive. And you don't know how they got there, but there they are.
It's like holding smoke at night.
We all make choices at points in our life, and sometimes you look back and wish they'd been different. But how could you have changed something you didn't even know was really happening at the time? You'd have to have been you now, but that's the issue.
You are.
I wish I could lay down on clouds. I think if all that space night nothing could just hold me close for a moment, even a moment, I'd find something that'd make me think I was dreaming.
I've got that pit in my stomach again, and it's not about the blanket or the bed, but the butterflies I haven't had. And that mirror where things I didn't know I did look back and me and lay a little while upon my head.
I think night is an emotion.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Reasons and Reflections
Let's be honest here: I procrastinate. I'm surprised that I've even written this many blogs. Usually I get bored with writing them about the time I realize that nobody actually reads them. But with this, it seems to be different.
I know people say 20 is the lamest age, but that's just because people have to wait to legally drink another year and it teases them. Me? I don't drink (if you didn't get that, you may want to figure out whether you do or not, otherwise, call a doctor). So it's perfectly acceptable (all of these parentheses are throwing off the flow in a way I cannot seem to correct).
You see, for some odd reason, I've actually gotten quite a few people who have told me that they have read my blog. Which is surprising, since I tend to think it's utter crap most of the time. I suppose it maybe my humor, or the fact that I'm not afraid to bash myself with said humor, or that fact that I'm pretty open with my humor and bashing and life and hence it may or may not make for an interesting read.
Or maybe it's just the fact that I tend to write like a schizophrenic monkey on a bad acid trip. Yeah, that's probably it.
Not that I know what an acid trip would be like. I don't do drugs. Or drink. Or believe in god. I tend to shy away from such addictions and replace them with wholesome, life enhancing methods of living. Like video games. And Dungeons and Dragons. And collecting pretzels. And writing crap blogs I think nobody will read and yet I always get overwhelming and surprising responses for and so I continue to do so even thought I highly doubt my ability to accurately portray anything that may be considered "true."
It's a character choice.
Speaking of choices, I'm going to choose to make that dish I promised you guys tomorrow. I've selected the final dish, but I suppose you'll just have to read it to find out what it is.
Cliffhanger. Are you hung?
On the whole reflections thing: being twenty is pretty cool. You can never be called a teenager again, and people give you that sort of knowingly appreciative look when you say your age now, like they understand that you're growing but since you're 20 you've automatically reached a point where you can now be considered to not be a whinny self indulgent parasite.
At least, that's the theory.
I know people say 20 is the lamest age, but that's just because people have to wait to legally drink another year and it teases them. Me? I don't drink (if you didn't get that, you may want to figure out whether you do or not, otherwise, call a doctor). So it's perfectly acceptable (all of these parentheses are throwing off the flow in a way I cannot seem to correct).
In summation, I like being twenty. School is pretty good. And I'm actually learning that people aren't always sacks of lying hating scum that should be not trusted at all costs. It's a pretty good development. I'm looking forward to the next chapter of it.
As for her, I miss her. I feel adrift without her. I know this is all so melodramatic, and you can't wait to read about how much more I miss her. I'm sorry. It's not original and it is cliché, but it's not my fault if it's my life. I plead the fourth wall. I love her, and it's these moments of appreciation that I think is what makes a real relationship. When you find yourself thinking about the other person, not because of something bad, but because you genuinely miss their presence.
Who would have ever thought I had such a heart?
Memo to self: Gladiator and over exposure to British accents may cause verbosity beyond measure. I think I'm better tonight than I was right after watching Gladiator. It was bad.
Hence, my procrastination.
Monday, October 4, 2010
It's Monday Morning
And I would kill for a chance to drive.
It's the first day of Autumn. You know which one I'm talking about. The one where the rain doesn't quite fall so much as linger, where the heat of summer is replaced with that first biting chill of winter. It's nothing too cold, but the system shock comes from having been cradled in the dying embers of spring's first warmth for nearly 3 months.
And now it's cold. And wet. And gone.
Washington is suddenly Pennsylvania.
6 hours ago I was dreaming for a way to get
Back where the sun was always wet
Just her and I and our blanket of tears
It's not miles that seperate but years
I've got a five speed bike and a two speed heart
And 2500 miles that break half apart
It's raining cold like you wouldn't believe
And I've still got 3 years until I leave
No back, no front, no way to go
Except straight up, hope that bar is low.
It's 8 am, just puddles of life
And I'm going no where
It's 8 am, just puddles of life
And I'm going no where
Maybe that'll be a song one day. Who the hell cares?
I've gotta get some sleep at some point today, but I think I'd rather hogtie people. I dunno. It's a toss up. Maybe I'll play god too. But that's only if you're free.
Sleep would be nice, but I've still got an afternoon I have to (don't want to) have to do.
Maybe I'll sleep later.
It's the first day of Autumn. You know which one I'm talking about. The one where the rain doesn't quite fall so much as linger, where the heat of summer is replaced with that first biting chill of winter. It's nothing too cold, but the system shock comes from having been cradled in the dying embers of spring's first warmth for nearly 3 months.
And now it's cold. And wet. And gone.
Washington is suddenly Pennsylvania.
6 hours ago I was dreaming for a way to get
Back where the sun was always wet
Just her and I and our blanket of tears
It's not miles that seperate but years
I've got a five speed bike and a two speed heart
And 2500 miles that break half apart
It's raining cold like you wouldn't believe
And I've still got 3 years until I leave
No back, no front, no way to go
Except straight up, hope that bar is low.
It's 8 am, just puddles of life
And I'm going no where
It's 8 am, just puddles of life
And I'm going no where
Maybe that'll be a song one day. Who the hell cares?
I've gotta get some sleep at some point today, but I think I'd rather hogtie people. I dunno. It's a toss up. Maybe I'll play god too. But that's only if you're free.
Sleep would be nice, but I've still got an afternoon I have to (don't want to) have to do.
Maybe I'll sleep later.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Unreasonable
There is a very limited amount of reasons I should ever be awake this early on a Saturday morning.
1. Because she is too.
2. Because I need to get up early to do something awesome.
3. Because the world is coming to an end due to zombies/robots/ninjas/pirates/zombie robot ninja pirates/some other deadly thing which would make the world a really not so great place to live in as it was before that I would not agree with yet would find totally awesome to try and fight off for the survival of humanity.
4. Bacon.
She's still 2500 miles away, I don't really see any zombie robot pirate ninjas (trust me, I've looked) and there is no bacon. None.
So why am I up? Must be number two. But waking up this early to sing with 200+ alumni of the 75th Anniversary choir would only be awesome if it wasn't at the dawn of my sleep day and hadn't already consumed and would be consuming an unnecessary portion of my friendship, sanity, and sleep.
Thus, there is no reason to be up this early. Thus I should go back to sleep.
...I wonder if my choir director would buy this line of reasoning?
Maybe, but I'd probably have to give him a free sample first.
1. Because she is too.
2. Because I need to get up early to do something awesome.
3. Because the world is coming to an end due to zombies/robots/ninjas/pirates/zombie robot ninja pirates/some other deadly thing which would make the world a really not so great place to live in as it was before that I would not agree with yet would find totally awesome to try and fight off for the survival of humanity.
4. Bacon.
She's still 2500 miles away, I don't really see any zombie robot pirate ninjas (trust me, I've looked) and there is no bacon. None.
So why am I up? Must be number two. But waking up this early to sing with 200+ alumni of the 75th Anniversary choir would only be awesome if it wasn't at the dawn of my sleep day and hadn't already consumed and would be consuming an unnecessary portion of my friendship, sanity, and sleep.
Thus, there is no reason to be up this early. Thus I should go back to sleep.
...I wonder if my choir director would buy this line of reasoning?
Maybe, but I'd probably have to give him a free sample first.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The 20
I wanted to share a little special tradition I do to celebrate my birthday.
Every year I give myself a little gift. I compile the most meaningful songs that I've listened to over the last year of my life and make a playlist of them. Each birthday, the playlist is as long as I am old.
I'm not really sure where I came up with the idea from, but I really love music, and being able to have a musical record of the past year of my life is pretty cool in my opinion.
So without further ado, here is this year's playlist and some of the reasons why I chose the songs. I'll keep the explanations and critiques short, because I could go on forever about these songs. The titles are linked to the respective music video for that song, so feel free to check them out whilst reading. Or whatever.
Anyways, here it is.
1. Bulls on Parade by Rage Against the Machine (Live at the Grand Olympic Auditorium
I've never really been into live music, but this drew me. Anyone who really knows me will know that Rage is my favorite band of all time, and the sheer veracity of this gave me a new outlook on live recordings. This is the first year I've ever put live music on the playlist, and it's all due to this song, which is one of my favorites of Rage's. This is the opener from their last performance before they broke up in 2001. It's at the Grand Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles, and that concert is an amazing piece in of itself. Tom's haunting guitar intro underscored by Tim's bass just grabs at me. And when Brad hits the drums and Zack starts to rap, it explodes. It still amazes me and gives me shivers.
2. B.Y.O.B. by System of a Down (Mesmerize)
Its powerful, its crazy, its almost schizophrenic. Rocking out with my friends in the car to this song provides some of my best memories of high school. It simultaneously taps into my love for activism and just being crazy. Necessary combo, really.
3. NJ Legion Iced Tea by A Day to Remember (Homesick)
My brother got me into ADTR. At first I thought they were okay. And then I heard their Homesick album. I fell in love with the melody and shredding bass riffs. Its terrific stuff, and I need more. It brought about an addiction this last year for finding melodically pleasing heavy metal.
4. Revelations by Audioslave (Revelations)
I only ever had the first Audioslave CD up until recently, and when I bought Revelations and heard this song, I loved it. For those of you who don't know Audioslave, they're basically Rage, except with Chris Cornell instead of Zack de la Rocha. And I don't care what you say: Tom Morello and Chris Cornell are two of the greatest rock artists of this age. It was so different from their early stuff. They had established a sound that was catchy and harsh, and I still use this to get me pumped up in the mornings. The first half of this CD is those sorta pump up songs.
5. Stupify by Disturbed (The Sickness)
Music to mow lawns to. The best Disturbed song out there, along with Down With the Sickness and Stricken. There isn't anything better, and it perfectly encapsulates that very threatening power they always push for. It riddles me with shivers, and I can't help but head bang. They're music video is also pretty sick for this one.
6. Ich Tu Dir Weh by Rammstein (Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da)
Again like Audioslave, I only ever had a little bit of Rammstein's stuff. This last year I got almost all of their CD's. Ich Tu Dir Weh's music video is straight up raw power. I can't even believe that something that man is allowed to be put on the internet. Its energy undefined. This is also the first foreign song I've put on the list.
7. Send the Pain Below by Chevelle (Wonder What's Next)
I love Chevelle's early stuff, partially because I think it'd be the sort of rock I could sing really well. And let's face it, it's just awesome. The poetry they use, both musically and vocally, is really intense, and while it's not their heaviest, it suffices in terms of melodic endeavor much better. And again, amazing music video.
8. Blow Me Away by Breaking Benjamin (Halo 2 Soundtrack, Volume 1)
I sometimes put songs on that may not be as relevant to my life this year, but are more a tribute to years past that I wanted to include. Years when I didn't do this playlist. This one still retains a lot of relevancy though. Back in junior high a friend lent me the Halo 2 soundtrack while we were on a choir tour. I listened to it nonstop. It was really my first introduction to the idea that video game music could be listened to outside the game. Blow Me Away was my alarm clock for most of those years. After a while I didn't listen to the Halo 2 soundtrack as much, but this year I rediscovered it. And it still rocks.
9. Morgenstern by Rammstein (Reise, Reise)
This year was a big year for Rammstein with me. I'd heard Engel which is what originally got me into this sort of stuff, and I love Ich Will's music video a lot. But Morgenstern was what cemented Rammstein in my mind as music which could rock my mind and heart. It's majestic in its scope of music and poetry. Read the lyrics in English. They're wonderful.
10. Mr. Jack by Sytem of a Down (Steal This Album!)
Try to find the meaning of what this song is. You can't. The band themselves have stated they're not entirely sure what it's supposed to be. Everyone argues about it. This was kind of a quirky find. I love System, but it wasn't until this song came along that I really knew that System was so wonderful. This song made me think about a lot of meaning in my life, and it holds a very special place for something I can't really talk about. I still can't figure out what it's about.
11. Born of a Broken Man by Rage Against the Machine (The Battle of Los Angeles)
There's a reason Zack de la Rocha, lead singer of Rage, is the way he is. The reason is in this song, and it's anger at that reason is overtly evident. This song is literally tearing, ripping, shredding anger. Walking across campus listening to this I could see Rage playing in the rain too. It was some sort of epic mind music video. It has a lot of puncture to it's depth.
12. My Curse by Killswitch Engage (As Daylight Dies)
I listened to Killswitch Engage's discography on a ride across eastern Washington back to western. I don't like the screaming of a lot of it, but this song I have always loved. It's obviously about love, which is very appropriate for me. The music video is fantastic as well. Music to ride to triumph to.
13. Teardrop by Massive Attack (Mezzanine)
Yes, this is the song from House. Yes, it does have lyrics. Yes, it is beautiful. Yes, you do need more of it. You may now precede with your life.
14. Stan by Eminem (The Marshall Mathers LP)
Eminem is the greatest rapper of all time. This is probably the greatest rap song of all time. The lyricism and depth of meaning here explores a topic that is outside the realm of booty shaking and gang stars. It has meaning. And sorrow. Admittedly, my girlfriend got me turned onto Eminem again with Mockingbird. Maybe that'll be on here next year. And rap really needs more of that these days.
15. Last Week's Alcohol by Kerrigan and Lowdermilk (Party Worth Crashing)
There was literally a 5 day period when I listened to nothing else but this song. It's college. No, not a song about college. This song is college. It's her, and it's all the issues and shit, and it's just morose. In a good way. I haven't been more touched by a piece from a musical or a live piece than I have by this. It talks.
16. We Are All Connected by Symphony of Science (A Glorious Dawn)
Take the world's greatest scientific minds, autotune them, and then put them to a catchy mellow rap backdrop. This is the final product, and I must have more. I won't even bother trying to explain the depths of this. I wouldn't be able to breathe.
17. I Am The One by Inon Zur (Dragon Age: Origins Soundtrack)
This song has won so many awards I won't even bother trying to list them all. This video game song is a testament to the dedication and craft music puts into the art of video games. And it is appreicated.
18. Path Vol. 2 by Apocalyptica (Cult)
Four cellos, tortured into heavy metal and pure streamlined riffage, torn apart with sensually destructive lyrics. That is what this song is. For the first song by Apocalyptica with lyrics, they chose well. Sandra Nasic is fantastic in it. Everything is so spot on. This is another one of those songs from my younger years, but I did get into it a little this year. It's just abominable how power filled it is.
19. If It Means a Lot to You by A Day to Remember (Homesick)
Hearing this song gave me a whole new context for not only appreciating the capacity for creation ADTR has but also for what an acoustic song could do. The times I usually listen to this is when I'm feeling lonely and just had a good conversation with her. It gets the blood pumping the way it does when I think of her. I just imagine me and all my friends bursting out towards the end and rocking heavy to this. Simple is often the best device for music, but this still takes it farther. I love ADTR.
20. M4 Part 2, song (as used in the game Mass Effect) by Faunts (Mass Effect Soundtrack)
Yet another video game song. This one has saved me in driving. It's epic in scope, and if you ever have played to the end of Mass Effect, you know the chills you get from hearing this song. It's hauntingly awesome, and while the lyrics are a little overwhelmed, it's still an amazing piece. Its just beautiful.
So there you go. You now know my 19th year leading up to the beginning of my 20th year of life in terms of music. I hope you enjoyed.
Every year I give myself a little gift. I compile the most meaningful songs that I've listened to over the last year of my life and make a playlist of them. Each birthday, the playlist is as long as I am old.
I'm not really sure where I came up with the idea from, but I really love music, and being able to have a musical record of the past year of my life is pretty cool in my opinion.
So without further ado, here is this year's playlist and some of the reasons why I chose the songs. I'll keep the explanations and critiques short, because I could go on forever about these songs. The titles are linked to the respective music video for that song, so feel free to check them out whilst reading. Or whatever.
Anyways, here it is.
1. Bulls on Parade by Rage Against the Machine (Live at the Grand Olympic Auditorium
I've never really been into live music, but this drew me. Anyone who really knows me will know that Rage is my favorite band of all time, and the sheer veracity of this gave me a new outlook on live recordings. This is the first year I've ever put live music on the playlist, and it's all due to this song, which is one of my favorites of Rage's. This is the opener from their last performance before they broke up in 2001. It's at the Grand Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles, and that concert is an amazing piece in of itself. Tom's haunting guitar intro underscored by Tim's bass just grabs at me. And when Brad hits the drums and Zack starts to rap, it explodes. It still amazes me and gives me shivers.
2. B.Y.O.B. by System of a Down (Mesmerize)
Its powerful, its crazy, its almost schizophrenic. Rocking out with my friends in the car to this song provides some of my best memories of high school. It simultaneously taps into my love for activism and just being crazy. Necessary combo, really.
3. NJ Legion Iced Tea by A Day to Remember (Homesick)
My brother got me into ADTR. At first I thought they were okay. And then I heard their Homesick album. I fell in love with the melody and shredding bass riffs. Its terrific stuff, and I need more. It brought about an addiction this last year for finding melodically pleasing heavy metal.
4. Revelations by Audioslave (Revelations)
I only ever had the first Audioslave CD up until recently, and when I bought Revelations and heard this song, I loved it. For those of you who don't know Audioslave, they're basically Rage, except with Chris Cornell instead of Zack de la Rocha. And I don't care what you say: Tom Morello and Chris Cornell are two of the greatest rock artists of this age. It was so different from their early stuff. They had established a sound that was catchy and harsh, and I still use this to get me pumped up in the mornings. The first half of this CD is those sorta pump up songs.
5. Stupify by Disturbed (The Sickness)
Music to mow lawns to. The best Disturbed song out there, along with Down With the Sickness and Stricken. There isn't anything better, and it perfectly encapsulates that very threatening power they always push for. It riddles me with shivers, and I can't help but head bang. They're music video is also pretty sick for this one.
6. Ich Tu Dir Weh by Rammstein (Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da)
Again like Audioslave, I only ever had a little bit of Rammstein's stuff. This last year I got almost all of their CD's. Ich Tu Dir Weh's music video is straight up raw power. I can't even believe that something that man is allowed to be put on the internet. Its energy undefined. This is also the first foreign song I've put on the list.
7. Send the Pain Below by Chevelle (Wonder What's Next)
I love Chevelle's early stuff, partially because I think it'd be the sort of rock I could sing really well. And let's face it, it's just awesome. The poetry they use, both musically and vocally, is really intense, and while it's not their heaviest, it suffices in terms of melodic endeavor much better. And again, amazing music video.
8. Blow Me Away by Breaking Benjamin (Halo 2 Soundtrack, Volume 1)
I sometimes put songs on that may not be as relevant to my life this year, but are more a tribute to years past that I wanted to include. Years when I didn't do this playlist. This one still retains a lot of relevancy though. Back in junior high a friend lent me the Halo 2 soundtrack while we were on a choir tour. I listened to it nonstop. It was really my first introduction to the idea that video game music could be listened to outside the game. Blow Me Away was my alarm clock for most of those years. After a while I didn't listen to the Halo 2 soundtrack as much, but this year I rediscovered it. And it still rocks.
9. Morgenstern by Rammstein (Reise, Reise)
This year was a big year for Rammstein with me. I'd heard Engel which is what originally got me into this sort of stuff, and I love Ich Will's music video a lot. But Morgenstern was what cemented Rammstein in my mind as music which could rock my mind and heart. It's majestic in its scope of music and poetry. Read the lyrics in English. They're wonderful.
10. Mr. Jack by Sytem of a Down (Steal This Album!)
Try to find the meaning of what this song is. You can't. The band themselves have stated they're not entirely sure what it's supposed to be. Everyone argues about it. This was kind of a quirky find. I love System, but it wasn't until this song came along that I really knew that System was so wonderful. This song made me think about a lot of meaning in my life, and it holds a very special place for something I can't really talk about. I still can't figure out what it's about.
11. Born of a Broken Man by Rage Against the Machine (The Battle of Los Angeles)
There's a reason Zack de la Rocha, lead singer of Rage, is the way he is. The reason is in this song, and it's anger at that reason is overtly evident. This song is literally tearing, ripping, shredding anger. Walking across campus listening to this I could see Rage playing in the rain too. It was some sort of epic mind music video. It has a lot of puncture to it's depth.
12. My Curse by Killswitch Engage (As Daylight Dies)
I listened to Killswitch Engage's discography on a ride across eastern Washington back to western. I don't like the screaming of a lot of it, but this song I have always loved. It's obviously about love, which is very appropriate for me. The music video is fantastic as well. Music to ride to triumph to.
13. Teardrop by Massive Attack (Mezzanine)
Yes, this is the song from House. Yes, it does have lyrics. Yes, it is beautiful. Yes, you do need more of it. You may now precede with your life.
14. Stan by Eminem (The Marshall Mathers LP)
Eminem is the greatest rapper of all time. This is probably the greatest rap song of all time. The lyricism and depth of meaning here explores a topic that is outside the realm of booty shaking and gang stars. It has meaning. And sorrow. Admittedly, my girlfriend got me turned onto Eminem again with Mockingbird. Maybe that'll be on here next year. And rap really needs more of that these days.
15. Last Week's Alcohol by Kerrigan and Lowdermilk (Party Worth Crashing)
There was literally a 5 day period when I listened to nothing else but this song. It's college. No, not a song about college. This song is college. It's her, and it's all the issues and shit, and it's just morose. In a good way. I haven't been more touched by a piece from a musical or a live piece than I have by this. It talks.
16. We Are All Connected by Symphony of Science (A Glorious Dawn)
Take the world's greatest scientific minds, autotune them, and then put them to a catchy mellow rap backdrop. This is the final product, and I must have more. I won't even bother trying to explain the depths of this. I wouldn't be able to breathe.
17. I Am The One by Inon Zur (Dragon Age: Origins Soundtrack)
This song has won so many awards I won't even bother trying to list them all. This video game song is a testament to the dedication and craft music puts into the art of video games. And it is appreicated.
18. Path Vol. 2 by Apocalyptica (Cult)
Four cellos, tortured into heavy metal and pure streamlined riffage, torn apart with sensually destructive lyrics. That is what this song is. For the first song by Apocalyptica with lyrics, they chose well. Sandra Nasic is fantastic in it. Everything is so spot on. This is another one of those songs from my younger years, but I did get into it a little this year. It's just abominable how power filled it is.
19. If It Means a Lot to You by A Day to Remember (Homesick)
Hearing this song gave me a whole new context for not only appreciating the capacity for creation ADTR has but also for what an acoustic song could do. The times I usually listen to this is when I'm feeling lonely and just had a good conversation with her. It gets the blood pumping the way it does when I think of her. I just imagine me and all my friends bursting out towards the end and rocking heavy to this. Simple is often the best device for music, but this still takes it farther. I love ADTR.
20. M4 Part 2, song (as used in the game Mass Effect) by Faunts (Mass Effect Soundtrack)
Yet another video game song. This one has saved me in driving. It's epic in scope, and if you ever have played to the end of Mass Effect, you know the chills you get from hearing this song. It's hauntingly awesome, and while the lyrics are a little overwhelmed, it's still an amazing piece. Its just beautiful.
So there you go. You now know my 19th year leading up to the beginning of my 20th year of life in terms of music. I hope you enjoyed.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
And Then It's Monday
A little math.
I don't think 11 hours of my life has ever been more painful. I literally could scream. It'd be painful, and it'd be tearful (much like I am now) and it'd blur and break and then
It'd probably be Monday.
Weekends are supposed to be rest and comfort, not feeling like you just shat out a pointless amount of time that tore away the one time you could actually get ready for the week. Tomorrow's gonna come, and I'm gonna want it to be Friday again.
And it needs to not be like that.
I can't handle things sometimes, and when a day's worth of time cleaves you out and lays you wide for no uncertain amount of time, and you wake up from the retreated stupor of your mental shell, you realize that the one thing you'd been looking forward to, to get you through the psycho scrabble of a week's work and toiling on your own,
is gone.
I need something to punch and cry into. At the same time.
These times are supposed to be good right? That's what we all saw on TV. That's what they told us in all those graduation speeches about coming into your own and reaching the start of a new beginning for yourself.
It's bullshit.
It's the same life you've been living, except now with no one to really catch you when you fall. When you fall it's all you can do to keep your wings even and your fingers digging into the side of whatever you can reach to slow you into the descent of your own black chaotic id of pressure,
and time,
and nothing,
and pointlessness,
and depression,
and anger,
and those broken screams.
Tomorrow's gonna come, and she still won't be there. I can roll the dice all I want to, but that won't change the chances of me waking up next to her, waking up on a Saturday morning somewhere far away from this with her, and at a time when I'm not trying to fight off a sickness of both health and mind.
Chocolate is pretty good for this sort of stuff. I had a whole bag of M&M's my nice roommate got for me just now. Didn't even ask. I can't even explain how grateful I am.
It helps. But it doesn't fix.
It helps. But it doesn't fix.
Sure, the chemicals I imbibe will create an influx of endorphins which will rush around to wherever the hell endorphins like to chill and hopefully stop making a new ocean on my keyboard and desk.
I like this desk. The keyboard I'm still iffy about.
One of these days I'll actually sleep. I'll wake up, and I won't have to do anything. And the next day I will have the same nothing to do. And it'll be nice.
But right now, it's all those hours, literally wasted, literally tasting of salt, and I've gotta find a way to calm it down.
And there I am. Calm. That sort of dull deadness you get after you realize you've exhausted all the water your body can produce out your eyes. My desk is that ocean, and I wish it would lead somewhere.
But it doesn't. It's only in my mind that I sail away to find and bring her back to a place where Saturdays are an always.
The broken screams, the calm, that little hope for her, it's all psychological.
It's amazing how perceptions can create such vivid worlds to get lost in.
I've got less than half a day until I've got to start another. Thankfully, it won't be hard. I don't have too many obligations, and unlike the fiasco of a yesterday that is now my tears, it will be productive.
I think I've arrived at a sort of acceptance. Another fallacy: it's never about overcoming something. That means you had to beat it, had to make it feel your pain somehow, show whatever it is who's boss in this whole thing. It's good for a bit, but you can't fight such pains of society and life.
At one point, you've got to terms with the simple fact that as long as you accept the bad, there will be good. And as a long as you accept the good, there will be bad. It's not anything philosophical, it's just reality. And I think I can be there, now.
Just in time for Monday.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Down With the Sickness
Sorry if the title was misleading.
Being sick is a double edged sword.
On the one hand, you have a free day. How often do those really come in the middle of the school week? A little R&R, a little Discovery Channel, and no obligations or appointments you really have to worry about. It's beautiful, especially when you essentially sell most of your soul to music. College can be funny like that.
The downside though? You don't really get to enjoy it. It's kinda like being given the game guide to a video game, without the actual video game attached. Sure, it's nice to look at and appreciate that you have it, but it's a pale comparison to actually being able to fully enjoy it. You can't play a game guide (trust me I've tried).
And Dad, if you're out there reading this, I don't really harbor that much of a grudge over you just giving me the game guide to Spore and having to buy the game on my own. Really, it was a nice gift. It came in use...once I got the game.
But I digest.
Sick days are only fun as long as you're not sick. There's a certain balance to the whole thing. You want to be sick enough to be justified in not going to class, but you want to be well enough to enjoy it. Unfortunately you don't really get to control that balance, so it's really a viral crapshoot at best.
Coincidentally M. Night Shyamalan's The Last Airbender was also a viral crapshoot. Except replace the word "viral" with "epic" and take the "shoot" off the end of "crapshoot." Same thing, though, really.
Anyways, so you're left in a congested limbo, somewhere between headache and harmony. You know you're skimping out on your responsibilities, but what're you gonna do? It's not like you asked to be sick. You're really going to go to class and snivel the entire time, trying to make out through the sinus tears what the difference between enharmonic chords is? No, not a good idea. Learning Arabic is already hard enough without the added phlegm. Or maybe that would help...
Speaking of Arabic, it's actually an interesting language. Much easier to learn than Mandarin Chinese. But then again trying to learn Mandarin Chinese is somewhat akin to learning to tie 3000 different kinds of sailor's knots with tentacles as your arms. Not the most convenient thing, really. Shame.
Arabic is surprisingly like Spanish. Only, not. It's quite fun and all cursive and stuff. It makes my hand writing look pretty.
Back on topic.
What really sucks about the whole "your head is full of cottage cheese" business is that nagging sense that maybe you're being a baby about the whole ordeal. You should wipe off that snot, soldier, college wasn't made for congested weaklings. You need to pull yourself together and get back to doing work which may or may not be productive to fulfilling an actual life you choose to live afterwards.
This may be why I'm on a computer typing this and not in class. It may also be why I have yet to declare a major. But that's a different sort of sickness.
So here I am in my suite room (and it is sweet), sitting on a computer typing how crappy I feel. I should get some food. Or some water. Water is good. It drowns out the sickness of some old wives. Maybe Mythbusters could test the potential drinking water has for drowning wives. Or maybe The Colony could have a marriage in a water tank and then all get sick by that virus and die? I'm not really sure what the point of those last few sentences were except to provide me with possible amusement later on.
I still hate not going to things. I hate letting people down I've made commitments with. But it's probably better in the long run to be extra safe with the rest now and not try and force out effort of a body that can barely think words, let alone breathe.
Such is life.
Being sick is a double edged sword.
On the one hand, you have a free day. How often do those really come in the middle of the school week? A little R&R, a little Discovery Channel, and no obligations or appointments you really have to worry about. It's beautiful, especially when you essentially sell most of your soul to music. College can be funny like that.
The downside though? You don't really get to enjoy it. It's kinda like being given the game guide to a video game, without the actual video game attached. Sure, it's nice to look at and appreciate that you have it, but it's a pale comparison to actually being able to fully enjoy it. You can't play a game guide (trust me I've tried).
And Dad, if you're out there reading this, I don't really harbor that much of a grudge over you just giving me the game guide to Spore and having to buy the game on my own. Really, it was a nice gift. It came in use...once I got the game.
But I digest.
Sick days are only fun as long as you're not sick. There's a certain balance to the whole thing. You want to be sick enough to be justified in not going to class, but you want to be well enough to enjoy it. Unfortunately you don't really get to control that balance, so it's really a viral crapshoot at best.
Coincidentally M. Night Shyamalan's The Last Airbender was also a viral crapshoot. Except replace the word "viral" with "epic" and take the "shoot" off the end of "crapshoot." Same thing, though, really.
Anyways, so you're left in a congested limbo, somewhere between headache and harmony. You know you're skimping out on your responsibilities, but what're you gonna do? It's not like you asked to be sick. You're really going to go to class and snivel the entire time, trying to make out through the sinus tears what the difference between enharmonic chords is? No, not a good idea. Learning Arabic is already hard enough without the added phlegm. Or maybe that would help...
Speaking of Arabic, it's actually an interesting language. Much easier to learn than Mandarin Chinese. But then again trying to learn Mandarin Chinese is somewhat akin to learning to tie 3000 different kinds of sailor's knots with tentacles as your arms. Not the most convenient thing, really. Shame.
Arabic is surprisingly like Spanish. Only, not. It's quite fun and all cursive and stuff. It makes my hand writing look pretty.
Back on topic.
What really sucks about the whole "your head is full of cottage cheese" business is that nagging sense that maybe you're being a baby about the whole ordeal. You should wipe off that snot, soldier, college wasn't made for congested weaklings. You need to pull yourself together and get back to doing work which may or may not be productive to fulfilling an actual life you choose to live afterwards.
This may be why I'm on a computer typing this and not in class. It may also be why I have yet to declare a major. But that's a different sort of sickness.
So here I am in my suite room (and it is sweet), sitting on a computer typing how crappy I feel. I should get some food. Or some water. Water is good. It drowns out the sickness of some old wives. Maybe Mythbusters could test the potential drinking water has for drowning wives. Or maybe The Colony could have a marriage in a water tank and then all get sick by that virus and die? I'm not really sure what the point of those last few sentences were except to provide me with possible amusement later on.
I still hate not going to things. I hate letting people down I've made commitments with. But it's probably better in the long run to be extra safe with the rest now and not try and force out effort of a body that can barely think words, let alone breathe.
Such is life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I'm still looking for entries into the College Cookout competition I posted. If you can't find what I'm talking about, use that handy "scroll" thing most mouses come with and find it yourself. You're a smart person. You must be if you can understand the majority of my babble here. So happy hunting.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Hard Days
I knew I shouldn't have woken up the moment I did so this morning. I had a pit in my stomach the likes of which only BP has ever had to try and plug up. My whole morning started off that way. Just with this overwhelming sense of depression sweeping over me, and I could barely find a reason to eat.
Day went fine. In all actuality it was pretty great.
I said darn life. Kinda how my day had felt to me, to be honest. I was in an apathetic devil may cry sorta mood and I was okay with it. Life could go screw itself for being so stupid today, and it honestly just sucked.
Funny how that would happen on a Tuesday. I swear I usually schedule those sorts of things for Mondays. Guess it was late or something.
Anyways, it was uninvited, but there wasn't any real thing I could do. It's not that I had a bad day either. On the contrary, I had a good day. Short classes, got my homework done, big cookies. No real reason why I would wake up and feel like I should have been put under.
Just one of those days I guess.
And for about 2 hours I sat there, doing almost next to nothing, but trying to figure something out that I could get my head around that would drag it out of that pit I had going. But it was like trying to pull up the Titanic, as she's sinking, with a rowboat. Uphill battle doesn't accurately describe it. It was a sheer 90 degree cliff battle with volcanic rocks spewing down from above and Zues throwing thunderballs at the wall where I'm trying to grab. It was a partial dose of what I think hell would probably be like for happy people.
But I'm an atheist, so no hell for me. I get disappointed by that fact some days. Like this morning.
This morning I would have welcomed bad news. I kept expecting it to happen. I kept expecting a test to occur, or something to go wrong, or my homework to be wrong, or lunch to be bad, or my girlfriend to be unavailable to talk.
Nope.
Day went fine. In all actuality it was pretty great.
I was talking with my girlfriend and she mentioned she was doing math. Something about bases of 10. I don't even know what that means to be honest, and I never want to to be more honest.
I told her I wish I was with her, and she said but she's at work doing math and that's no fun.
I said darn life. Kinda how my day had felt to me, to be honest. I was in an apathetic devil may cry sorta mood and I was okay with it. Life could go screw itself for being so stupid today, and it honestly just sucked.
She laughed, and said we should love life.
And it struck me.
My day had gone well. Better in fact. The only downside was that I had woken up with this terrible pit and I had been trying to get out of it. It'd spoiled the day. Oh, that and being sick. That sucked too.
But even with the pit, it was still a great day. Sure, it was hard, and it was most definitely trying to motivate myself to do any of it, but I got through it. And it was worth it. I hung with friends, lived life, and nothing actually went wrong. I even had Skittles.
I guess what I'm trying to say is even if life sets you up to fail, it doesn't mean you will. That could be just the after effects of having watched Gattaca talking, but I tend to agree with that assessment nonetheless. By the way, for those of you who don't know what Gattaca is, it's a movie, and it's really quite great.
Much like my day.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Fancy Late Night Eats
Ooh! Is it time for a blue-light special?
Take for instance the M&M smoothie. Something you could probably get at a DQ, but where's the fun in that when you can mix in milk and some actual vanilla? The freedom to create your own food is one which is a sacred rite of college.
That, and I like seeing visual evidence that people actually read this. Again, that whole attention thing.
As an added bonus, the best recipe posted will be cooked by your's truly and reviewed in glorious fashion. I may or may not also throw in a hug, distance depending. The best recipe will probably be featured in either two or three blogs from now, depending how busy I am. But just think of the prizes and possible hug? You should definitely do it. You'll get some sort of additional prize too, people, but really, isn't glory enough?
Next, put another layer of chips on top of that, making sure to cover the cheese so that it cannot mostly be seen. Repeat depositing cheese, and then again with the Tabasco sauce.
After that, enjoy your tasty nachos!
Yes it is, 343, yes it is.
College is a wonderful time to experiment. And no, I'm talking about food. College should be it's own cuisine category, in my opinion. It's flexible, improvisational, and very need based.
Take for instance the M&M smoothie. Something you could probably get at a DQ, but where's the fun in that when you can mix in milk and some actual vanilla? The freedom to create your own food is one which is a sacred rite of college.
Another staple of every good college cuisine artist is the nacho. Humble yet zesty, spicy yet convenient, it provides the opportunity for a bevy of large toppings. Feeling meaty? Throw on that strange meat your roommate brought back from that one place you don't actually know but smells pretty good.
Tabasco sauce is key. So is a lack of taste buds sometimes. But they grow back (so I'm told).
I've actually started to get comments about people reading this. The remarkable thing to me is that anyone would actually take time out of their day to sit down at a computer screen and attempt to decipher the jargon of mind strewn babble I've attempted to produce here mainly for my own selfish and egotistically self serving purposes.
Someone once told me that self-deprecating humor helps make people think you're both modest and likable. Is it working?
I think the fact that we even have enough time to sit around and do things like have classes about the different transitions of musical notation and theory through the late middle ages means we may be doing something wrong. Not saying I don't enjoy it, it just seems like we should be all focused on solving the world's issues or something, and I rather fail to see the correlation between triads and terra-forming, but then that could just be because I'm arrogant and trying to make a point here.
Note: people often tend to make assumptions and generalities when they're making a point, which tends to in fact undermine the entirety of what they are trying to do. Suck on that, Freud.
Now back to me, now back to you, now back to me, now back to my blog.
I honestly hope that things like Zombie Apocalypses will break out, or that suddenly the world becomes permanently Middle Earth. My life would have so much more awesome purpose if I was slaying dragons and running space blockades instead of just trying to finish up this last bit of Arabic homework. Call me unappreciative, but I love those sort of far flung fantasia. I think it's why I like movies and games so much. I enjoy getting caught up in a world that could be, instead of the one that is. But this one does offer some strange moments where you can hardly believe you're awake.
I really like riding my bike. I pretend I'm on some sort of steed or in a pod skirting across the lush landscape. Every time I pass the big fountain I get chills. I try and time my music so that I can have good musical moments when I pass specific places. It makes the mundane ways of getting around campus an epic level encounter.
I think that's really what a majority of life is all tightened up about. We're all trying to make this life bigger and more grand than it actually is. Some people have religion for that, others politics. And some have bikes, nachos and a blog that nobody in their wrong mind would not read. And yes, I did intentionally try to confuse you with double negatives. I think it's ironic.
Or something.
I have this thing that when people sit on my bed I get irritated. I've gotten better since college's start, but in the back of my crazy little attic of a mind it still blunders me. Can't really explain why. I guess I have personal space issues as well as impersonal.
I would just like to take this opportunity to assert that coconut M&M's are delicious. Seriously. I don't care if you and coconut are sworn blood enemies from opposite clans, you have to try them if you haven't. Unless you're allergic. Then stay away from this stuff, it'll mess you up good. And the worst thing is it will be delicious while doing so.
Let's have some audience involvement, shall we?
I'm gonna post my nacho recipe. Not my best recipe, but the one I like. And you all who read this far and are like "jeez those sound overtly delish my good sir" can go ahead and post in the comments section a tasty collegiate munch you enjoy. It can be anything from a recipe for omelettes with peppers and god juice in them to plain old ramen soup. I'm just interested if there are any other people out there that tend to like to experiment with their rations of cheap food produce as much as I do.
That, and I like seeing visual evidence that people actually read this. Again, that whole attention thing.
As an added bonus, the best recipe posted will be cooked by your's truly and reviewed in glorious fashion. I may or may not also throw in a hug, distance depending. The best recipe will probably be featured in either two or three blogs from now, depending how busy I am. But just think of the prizes and possible hug? You should definitely do it. You'll get some sort of additional prize too, people, but really, isn't glory enough?
A final shout out before I leave off with my recipe: Peter, if you're reading this, you're a wonderful singer and I desperately want you to pretend to be a dog in front of me again. Enjoy your chicken in Kentucky, or wherever it is you're doing children's theater in.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Now, the recipe.
1 bag Doritos Spicy Nacho Cheese chips
1 bag of bagged cheese (like that shredded stuff you tend to put on tacos)
1 bottle of Tabasco sauce
These are the bare essential ingredients. In those times when I'm feeling creatively juicy and, more necessary really, happen to have other things to put on, I like using ground beef. But let's keep it simple shall we?
Spread out chips over a clean plate (yes, clean is necessary you heathen). Deposit you shredded cheese on top of the layer of chips you have just laid out. Make sure you get a nice even coating. Once the chips are covered with cheese, plop some Tabasco sauce in an even format around the layer. How much specifically? I leave that up to you.
Next, put another layer of chips on top of that, making sure to cover the cheese so that it cannot mostly be seen. Repeat depositing cheese, and then again with the Tabasco sauce.
This can be repeated many times, depending on how much stuff you have. My average serving is two layers, but I've gone up to seven before.
Once the concoction is concocted, place it in a microwave for 35-45 seconds. You know it is done when the cheese becomes limp and starts to barely begin to bubble.
After that, enjoy your tasty nachos!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Hemingway Never Seemed to Mind
It has occurred to me that some of you may be thinking that I am either clinically depressed or terribly dramatic. The answer is neither: I'm just bored.
Hit it Tomas.
I actually love my life here with my friends and work. It's a good day's fun with all of the stuff I do, and I've actually hit on a spree of good things that are happening. I just finished an overtly successful show (one I hope will come back again to be performed by us in later October [don't quote me]) and I'm working on that whole pretending to be British thing.
It's just at night when I'm all lonesome and nobodied I tend to think about all the things that are wrong with my life. Like the fact that tomorrow is Monday. If my life was better, tomorrow would not be Monday, but probably more along the lines of that day between Saturday and Sunday, whichever it is. That nice weekend day where I don't actually care about any of the worries I may or may not have.
But no, my life isn't better, so tomorrow is Monday. Cause and effect my friends.
I love my girlfriend, and missing her is a lot easier to do after a year of already having done so. That's the funny thing about such wounds: the longer you have them, the less you notice. So for now, the gaping hole in my life that was cuddles and tea and odd other things is only at a dull roar somewhere in the back behind the stuff I keep attempting to drown it in. Again, all because my life isn't better.
But let's think about if my life was better, shall we? If it was better, I probably wouldn't be writing this, so that's somewhat of a downer. After all, things going well doesn't really make for a good read, now does it? No, people want strife and all that jazzy angst stuff these days. I suspect that's why my friend was almost dumped because of Edward Cullen.
Huh.
You see, if my life was good, I wouldn't be able to have any context of how good it was. That whole Yin and Yang thing comes into play here, with the fulfillment of my life being distilled from the corked troubles of it. These descriptions are really being reached for tonight. Probably because my life's not better.
But again I digress. The real point I think I may start to be getting at is the fact that I rather like reading the words I type about my "troubles" and actually knowing someone might care. It doesn't actually matter if they like them or not, just as long as they know. I guess I'm kinda rude like that. Sue me.
Speaking of threats, I realized I may need to have a better outlook on life. I tend to be very over dramatic and attempt to describe things a lot. Probably due to that whole attention thing. But I think the main reasoning behind this is that I want to be good, and better than I am. Hence my viewing of my life as not better. It's the perfectionist's curse, with a hint of nuts, as I tend to just say screw it and go on with what I am doing anyways.
Speaking of screws, memo to self: stop acquiring things you do not know where you got them from. I seriously have too much shiz that is not mine, but is nobody else's. I'm like some sort of weird roaming trash vortex. And the weirdest thing is I actually think I may put some of it to use at some point.
But maybe I should try harder. Or maybe I should just pretend tomorrow isn't Monday. It'd only work if everyone was with me, but since I know most of my friends are robots conspiring to plot my downfall back home and the people I know here are too nice and sane enough to not try to deny reality like that, I think I'm stuck having a one man party of nothing. Sure, I think I actually might get support, but nobody would follow through. Hell, I wouldn't either.
Anyways, my point that I'm trying to make (somewhere in here) is that I actually lead a pretty good life with loving and caring people. Things are going well, I'm being productive, and everything that is bad will probably work it's way out into something good someway.
But I'll keep writing these little nuggets of collegiate lonesome because I know firstly that I need to. I gotta put it somewhere, because right now my head kinda hurts from the strain of trying to focus on something that is rather close to being me.
Secondly because I know some other people may be reading this and be like:
"Hey! It's like he's in my brain or something! I need to read more of this!"
And who am I to pass up an opportunity to be both a telepath and the center of attention all in one foul stroke?
And thirdly, by laying out the weird bundles of crazies I've got spewing around my mind I may actually come to the realization that I love my life truly, and then go from there on some sort of psycho-individualistic hero's journey through understanding. Sans Tusken Raiders.
I guess what I'm really trying to say here is I just don't like Mondays.
Hit it Tomas.
I actually love my life here with my friends and work. It's a good day's fun with all of the stuff I do, and I've actually hit on a spree of good things that are happening. I just finished an overtly successful show (one I hope will come back again to be performed by us in later October [don't quote me]) and I'm working on that whole pretending to be British thing.
It's just at night when I'm all lonesome and nobodied I tend to think about all the things that are wrong with my life. Like the fact that tomorrow is Monday. If my life was better, tomorrow would not be Monday, but probably more along the lines of that day between Saturday and Sunday, whichever it is. That nice weekend day where I don't actually care about any of the worries I may or may not have.
But no, my life isn't better, so tomorrow is Monday. Cause and effect my friends.
I love my girlfriend, and missing her is a lot easier to do after a year of already having done so. That's the funny thing about such wounds: the longer you have them, the less you notice. So for now, the gaping hole in my life that was cuddles and tea and odd other things is only at a dull roar somewhere in the back behind the stuff I keep attempting to drown it in. Again, all because my life isn't better.
But let's think about if my life was better, shall we? If it was better, I probably wouldn't be writing this, so that's somewhat of a downer. After all, things going well doesn't really make for a good read, now does it? No, people want strife and all that jazzy angst stuff these days. I suspect that's why my friend was almost dumped because of Edward Cullen.
Huh.
You see, if my life was good, I wouldn't be able to have any context of how good it was. That whole Yin and Yang thing comes into play here, with the fulfillment of my life being distilled from the corked troubles of it. These descriptions are really being reached for tonight. Probably because my life's not better.
But again I digress. The real point I think I may start to be getting at is the fact that I rather like reading the words I type about my "troubles" and actually knowing someone might care. It doesn't actually matter if they like them or not, just as long as they know. I guess I'm kinda rude like that. Sue me.
Speaking of threats, I realized I may need to have a better outlook on life. I tend to be very over dramatic and attempt to describe things a lot. Probably due to that whole attention thing. But I think the main reasoning behind this is that I want to be good, and better than I am. Hence my viewing of my life as not better. It's the perfectionist's curse, with a hint of nuts, as I tend to just say screw it and go on with what I am doing anyways.
Speaking of screws, memo to self: stop acquiring things you do not know where you got them from. I seriously have too much shiz that is not mine, but is nobody else's. I'm like some sort of weird roaming trash vortex. And the weirdest thing is I actually think I may put some of it to use at some point.
But maybe I should try harder. Or maybe I should just pretend tomorrow isn't Monday. It'd only work if everyone was with me, but since I know most of my friends are robots conspiring to plot my downfall back home and the people I know here are too nice and sane enough to not try to deny reality like that, I think I'm stuck having a one man party of nothing. Sure, I think I actually might get support, but nobody would follow through. Hell, I wouldn't either.
Anyways, my point that I'm trying to make (somewhere in here) is that I actually lead a pretty good life with loving and caring people. Things are going well, I'm being productive, and everything that is bad will probably work it's way out into something good someway.
But I'll keep writing these little nuggets of collegiate lonesome because I know firstly that I need to. I gotta put it somewhere, because right now my head kinda hurts from the strain of trying to focus on something that is rather close to being me.
Secondly because I know some other people may be reading this and be like:
"Hey! It's like he's in my brain or something! I need to read more of this!"
And who am I to pass up an opportunity to be both a telepath and the center of attention all in one foul stroke?
And thirdly, by laying out the weird bundles of crazies I've got spewing around my mind I may actually come to the realization that I love my life truly, and then go from there on some sort of psycho-individualistic hero's journey through understanding. Sans Tusken Raiders.
I guess what I'm really trying to say here is I just don't like Mondays.
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