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.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
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.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Between
Some theme music, if it pleases you.
So I'm sitting here listening to my roommate giggle. He has a beard, is quite tall, and is rather inebriated right now.
I just got done with playing Splinter Cell: Conviction for nearly the whole day. Somewhere in there I ate Chinese food, pretended to be British, and took a break from pretending to be a secret agent by pretending to be a Halo Spartan.
Oh yeah. And there was some flicking and dastardly castle defending at one point too.
The whole time, I've been thinking about how much I miss her, and wish she was here. I pour pixels and plastic dreams into a cavity left by her snuggles. And it helps for a while. But much like my girlish man beard of a roommate behind me, it can only be so distracting before you realize what you're missing out on.
Oh, right. There was the 6 hours I devoted to making up a fantasy world for ten different people in which I elicited their help in said creation. Dungeons and Dragons works much better than pixels, but the poison's not strong enough still.
It's like trying to use marbles to finish a jigsaw puzzle. Sure, it works for a bit, vaguely amusing in that sort of "this will never work but lets keep failing" sort of way. But marbles tend to roll about where flat, perfect, cuddly jigsaw pieces should fit.
And let's not forget the midnight hunger.
Night has a way of becoming a second day for me. But it's not really a new day. It's just all the stuff I didn't get to do in the day, but seems cooler because I'm doing it at night instead. But eventually the stomach ache turns out to not be from hunger pangs, and the lack of attention reveals it's focus to be about a continent's away.
And I'm left at a keyboard. Somewhere between giggling beards and thinking of what I've gotta do tomorrow. Soft hair and tea sipped through licorice straws is my dream in this half state. But unlike other dreams this one's gotta wait.
Because it's a Saturday night. Far enough away from work and school to not care about the consequences of actions, but close enough to Sunday to keep provoking thoughts about what my time should be spent doing. A mind is certainly a terrible thing to waste, but so are these precious midnight hours tailor-made for cuddles that cannot be.
I really need to find a different word. Thesauruses really are a very underused life saving device. Far too many people end up saying the same thing twenty times in a row to describe the thing they just said. If there's one thing pretending to be British has taught me, it's the importance and versatility of a good English tongue. That, and that street corners can be lonely after 6 weeks of waiting.
And then I hear those bearded giggles.
So I'm sitting here listening to my roommate giggle. He has a beard, is quite tall, and is rather inebriated right now.
I just got done with playing Splinter Cell: Conviction for nearly the whole day. Somewhere in there I ate Chinese food, pretended to be British, and took a break from pretending to be a secret agent by pretending to be a Halo Spartan.
Oh yeah. And there was some flicking and dastardly castle defending at one point too.
The whole time, I've been thinking about how much I miss her, and wish she was here. I pour pixels and plastic dreams into a cavity left by her snuggles. And it helps for a while. But much like my girlish man beard of a roommate behind me, it can only be so distracting before you realize what you're missing out on.
Oh, right. There was the 6 hours I devoted to making up a fantasy world for ten different people in which I elicited their help in said creation. Dungeons and Dragons works much better than pixels, but the poison's not strong enough still.
It's like trying to use marbles to finish a jigsaw puzzle. Sure, it works for a bit, vaguely amusing in that sort of "this will never work but lets keep failing" sort of way. But marbles tend to roll about where flat, perfect, cuddly jigsaw pieces should fit.
And let's not forget the midnight hunger.
Night has a way of becoming a second day for me. But it's not really a new day. It's just all the stuff I didn't get to do in the day, but seems cooler because I'm doing it at night instead. But eventually the stomach ache turns out to not be from hunger pangs, and the lack of attention reveals it's focus to be about a continent's away.
And I'm left at a keyboard. Somewhere between giggling beards and thinking of what I've gotta do tomorrow. Soft hair and tea sipped through licorice straws is my dream in this half state. But unlike other dreams this one's gotta wait.
Because it's a Saturday night. Far enough away from work and school to not care about the consequences of actions, but close enough to Sunday to keep provoking thoughts about what my time should be spent doing. A mind is certainly a terrible thing to waste, but so are these precious midnight hours tailor-made for cuddles that cannot be.
I really need to find a different word. Thesauruses really are a very underused life saving device. Far too many people end up saying the same thing twenty times in a row to describe the thing they just said. If there's one thing pretending to be British has taught me, it's the importance and versatility of a good English tongue. That, and that street corners can be lonely after 6 weeks of waiting.
And then I hear those bearded giggles.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
My Current State
To start off with, how about a little theme music?
Life is weird, which can occasionally be interesting, but is mostly off putting. Which, in a way, is comforting. Because you know there's gotta be someone else out there that is as equally apathetic and generally disinterested in the current state of, well, everything as you are. Safety in numbers.
Speaking of numbers.
It takes roughly 2,500 miles to go before you find love again. At least, it does for me. My current state is rather far away from anything that remotely looks like my girlfriend. Again, mostly off putting.
5 minutes away from my computer is the radius my normal everyday world extends out from. On an average weekly basis, I do not travel outside of that line, unless it's for groceries or something I probably don't need to really be spending money on but decided to anyways because sitting in a dorm with the same boxes you unpacked your life from 3 weeks ago gets boring. New boxes are always exciting.
I love the number 7 and I don't like my name. Bit of an irony there considering I hate numbers and love writing. The world is full of little find mucks. I suppose I don't like numbers because I feel like they impose some sort of unforeseen will upon everything. Somehow, my attempts to build meaningless lists of made up creatures and races and languages does not fall into this same category of control, but I'm hypocritical.
Example.
I hate power but think I'd be the best to use it. I think poor of myself, but like attention. This is not a new development for any human really, but I do my best to attempt to set new standards of such hypocrisies. Juries still out though.
Back to math.
The last 4 days I've been measuring my life in increments 6 minute 33 second cycles. It's the length of this one song I've been listening to. Over. And over. And over again. It's pretty catchy (apparently). My roommate informed me that I've been singing it almost every 6 minutes and 33 seconds I've been spending in my room. For the viewers at home, that roughly equates to 200 song cycles where my roommate has had to endure my (slightly) off tune whistles as I let the song run on YouTube whilst I'm doing something else. Isn't math fun?
More math.
1 am is roughly the time I get to bed each night. I could tell you its because of my college workload, my homework, that I'm actually doing something.
I'm not. I just don't want to. I would rather stay awake longer and remember than go to sleep and forget just that much more of a life I could have remembered. Last Week's Alcohol continues to play in my head, in those 6 minute 33 second cycles, as the clock in the corner of my laptop slowly marches forward to later in the night.
It gives me a sort of satisfaction being up when no one else is. A quiet calm if you will. Like riding my bike in the rain across campus listening to Killswitch Engage's song "My Curse." Good times. Being alone at a party, and just watching the conversations slowly get more drunk as the people empty themselves. There's a sort of satisfaction to that I like.
I'm on my fifth run through of that 6 minute 33 cycle right now. Feel free to do the math.
There's just shy of 7 billion people on this planet, but I'm the only one really. That's the hypocrisy of subjectivity right there. Surrounded by other loners pretending not to be. It's hard to cope with that fact as you get older, but I think I'm adjusting.
I always get to this point and I'm tempted to delete everything. It's shit. It's not actually important (which is true). But again there's that whole secret attention thing, so I don't, and then I put some labels on it which makes this whole thing seem attached and meaningful and profound in some way I don't even know what I mean.
I made cookies tonight. They were delicious. Chocolate chips and dried peppers. I made friends too. I like friends. What'd I'd really like, though, is that if that 2,500 miles would some how just become 6 minutes and 33 seconds. But then we'd all probably die because math got broke.
Oh well.
It's a little over 3 inches from where my mouse is sitting to the publish post button.
And there goes cycle 7.
And I'm still in this state.
Math is stupid.
Life is weird, which can occasionally be interesting, but is mostly off putting. Which, in a way, is comforting. Because you know there's gotta be someone else out there that is as equally apathetic and generally disinterested in the current state of, well, everything as you are. Safety in numbers.
Speaking of numbers.
It takes roughly 2,500 miles to go before you find love again. At least, it does for me. My current state is rather far away from anything that remotely looks like my girlfriend. Again, mostly off putting.
5 minutes away from my computer is the radius my normal everyday world extends out from. On an average weekly basis, I do not travel outside of that line, unless it's for groceries or something I probably don't need to really be spending money on but decided to anyways because sitting in a dorm with the same boxes you unpacked your life from 3 weeks ago gets boring. New boxes are always exciting.
I love the number 7 and I don't like my name. Bit of an irony there considering I hate numbers and love writing. The world is full of little find mucks. I suppose I don't like numbers because I feel like they impose some sort of unforeseen will upon everything. Somehow, my attempts to build meaningless lists of made up creatures and races and languages does not fall into this same category of control, but I'm hypocritical.
Example.
I hate power but think I'd be the best to use it. I think poor of myself, but like attention. This is not a new development for any human really, but I do my best to attempt to set new standards of such hypocrisies. Juries still out though.
Back to math.
The last 4 days I've been measuring my life in increments 6 minute 33 second cycles. It's the length of this one song I've been listening to. Over. And over. And over again. It's pretty catchy (apparently). My roommate informed me that I've been singing it almost every 6 minutes and 33 seconds I've been spending in my room. For the viewers at home, that roughly equates to 200 song cycles where my roommate has had to endure my (slightly) off tune whistles as I let the song run on YouTube whilst I'm doing something else. Isn't math fun?
More math.
1 am is roughly the time I get to bed each night. I could tell you its because of my college workload, my homework, that I'm actually doing something.
I'm not. I just don't want to. I would rather stay awake longer and remember than go to sleep and forget just that much more of a life I could have remembered. Last Week's Alcohol continues to play in my head, in those 6 minute 33 second cycles, as the clock in the corner of my laptop slowly marches forward to later in the night.
It gives me a sort of satisfaction being up when no one else is. A quiet calm if you will. Like riding my bike in the rain across campus listening to Killswitch Engage's song "My Curse." Good times. Being alone at a party, and just watching the conversations slowly get more drunk as the people empty themselves. There's a sort of satisfaction to that I like.
I'm on my fifth run through of that 6 minute 33 cycle right now. Feel free to do the math.
There's just shy of 7 billion people on this planet, but I'm the only one really. That's the hypocrisy of subjectivity right there. Surrounded by other loners pretending not to be. It's hard to cope with that fact as you get older, but I think I'm adjusting.
I always get to this point and I'm tempted to delete everything. It's shit. It's not actually important (which is true). But again there's that whole secret attention thing, so I don't, and then I put some labels on it which makes this whole thing seem attached and meaningful and profound in some way I don't even know what I mean.
I made cookies tonight. They were delicious. Chocolate chips and dried peppers. I made friends too. I like friends. What'd I'd really like, though, is that if that 2,500 miles would some how just become 6 minutes and 33 seconds. But then we'd all probably die because math got broke.
Oh well.
It's a little over 3 inches from where my mouse is sitting to the publish post button.
And there goes cycle 7.
And I'm still in this state.
Math is stupid.
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