Well, I've gone into escape mode again. I don't want to go anywhere, I don't want to do anything, I'm content with playing my game. What can we do? I know! Everybody buys Diablo II and we have a big dungeon crawling party! Seriously, I'm getting too wrapped up in this... These dungeons with all the darkness and aloneitude are creeping me out. And it's a video game! Go figure.
It satisfies the temporary angst problems of having no real purpose (maybe more on that later, my sister wants the computer). But it's still an escape. Ah well. I'll get bored with it in a week or two and hopefully things'll get better. Hopefully. Well, time to go. Sleep, have fun, and be merry.
Wednesday, June 30
Tuesday, June 29
Illegality
Today I did a number of illegal things. First, I went to Best Buy and bought a game (Diablo II, in fact; any of you people play it?). The lady asked me for an ID and I thought it was just some strange new store policy. I thought nothing more of it and drove on home. It wasn't until a few hours later that I realized it had an "M" rating and that I was supposed to be 18 to buy it. Go figure. Ironically, the same thing happened with Farenheit 911. The ticket-giver let us in, didn't even ask for ID.
The other are the general speeding we all do and rolling stops at stop signs. My problem is even when I stop for a stop sign, often I'm already halfway into the road. Eh, I'll have to work on it.
Well, time to start playing that new illegal video game. Talk to ya later!
The other are the general speeding we all do and rolling stops at stop signs. My problem is even when I stop for a stop sign, often I'm already halfway into the road. Eh, I'll have to work on it.
Well, time to start playing that new illegal video game. Talk to ya later!
Monday, June 28
Fiction
I went for a walk today. I was strolling along when I spotted a bird. A regular bird, not gray or blue or brown like you see in the movies. This one was normal. I said, "Hello" to the ball of neon pink fuzz that was staring right back at me. It responded with a few obscenities I'd rather not contemplate, and then flew onto an overhead water pipe. The drip, drip, drip of electricity resonated with a sonorous rhythm matched only by the sonic boom you commonly hear in black holes. In fact, I looked around to make sure no black holes were nearby when suddenly the bird let out a cry of elation. It was electrocuted on the spot, dead as a headless worm. I almost cried. I would have, if I hadn't been electrocuted as well. I never felt more alive than that last instant. My corpse returned home, but it forgot to close the gate so the dog got out. The dog knew the way home, so it wouldn't be returning this way if it had any say in the matter. I was glad it had finally obtained freedom. Really, I was. That tear? A tear of joy. Odd, how corpses cry. I've never seen a happy cadaver. Until today.
Sunday, June 27
Pishaw
Hmm. The break seems to be slipping through my fingers. I suppose that's ok, I'm looking forward to many aspects of school starting again. Not the stress, of course. Maybe I'll have to work on that... Any suggestions?
Saturday, June 26
Well...
Now that's a deep subject. So is my yard. Hence, I apparently need twice the estimated amount of sand and gravel for our patio. I don't want to build a patio, I don't think we need a patio, but I don't have a choice. I do have a mission: Get more gravel and sand. It's messy work, and they're heavy. But look on the bright side: at least this can suffice instead of me lifting weights. Hoo-rah.
Friday, June 25
The Appearance of Love (Or lack thereof)
Ah, here I am again. And there you are. We have to stop meeting like this. Really, you never call, you never write, I just preach and ramble at you. We need better communication! Speaking of communication, this thing is gonna ramble everywhere. You have been warned. (No, really. I wrote it in different chunks, just had some things I'd been thinking about, and spewed them on here. I'm rather tired and really don't have a coherent train of thought going. Read at your own risk and disregard most of it after the first two paragraphs.)
Anyway, I did indeed make an entry yesterday. It was in my spinoff blog (you know, the one you're not allowed to read until you finish Perse). I haven't given up on Perse, but it was a good "resting point." I'll probably lay off awhile before I try to go back to weekly entries again. I dunno, I don't think I should go into the spinoff because it's a tad of a spoiler. But it's interesting, aiming for different tones and speakers everytime. Each entry is a different experience.
Eh, I just don't know. On the one hand, it's a nice hobby to have. Some kids do drugs, others do sports. I write and play games. But I keep having these delusions of grandeur. I keep thinking, "You can take it to another level!" I would really like to write a book of some sort. It'd have to be like Perse, zany and entertaining, but it'd have to be good enough to be published. People would have to like it. The problem is, I don't know how to achieve that. I have all these self-doubts that constantly plague me. And I don't want to set myself up for a crushing defeat.
I need a positive reinforcer. I suppose I need to fall in love (I'm out, in case you didn't know; I burned it off somehow. I blame the magic pixies). But love is going to be a very difficult issue for me. For one thing, the person will have to need me. I'm pretty certain I'm never going to ask another person, I just don't care enough. I deny myself quite a bit, and while restraint can be a good thing, I do it to excess. I downplay so much of the goings on of my life, I've ended up bored and rather boring. In some respects I've become stronger, and when I'm strong, I feel strong. But it's a precarious position. I'm so easily brought down by a doubt or comment by myself or others, I may as well be as weak as anyone else. If I was in love (and by that, I mean a "relationship" where such a feeling was mutual), I'd have a constant source of reassurance. It'd build confidence and fill the hollowness that causes me to crumble with such force and frequency.
It sounds worth it, but then I start actually thinking about the dynamics. I could tolerate the opinions of others, basically her opinion would suffice and I'd be able to actually, truly not be affected by others. But I'm just so stubborn. I don't take initiative or have interesting things to do. Like I said, I'm a bored and boring person. While I'd compromise on some issues, there are others than I'd flat out refuse. I can be quite apathetically difficult.
Or the opposite can be true. One of the things I dislike about myself is that I lack the ability to be "warm." I'm a cold, dry, usually dour person. While I suppose it has some good points (I rather like my sense of dark humor), I can't really show much positive emotion. Heck, I don't even get many positive emotions. I care, I really do, but it's so difficult to express it. I can't throw the word "love" around like some people do, because when I say it I mean either the love of a family member or the real, ultimate thing. I don't "love" any activities enough to say that I love them. I do plenty, but mainly to escape. I don't love life yet, but I think I can, after college. Another discussion, though. I'm just rather individual and cold. I need other people, I generally try to have their best interests at heart, and I always want the best for them. Anyone could talk to me about anything, and I would hold no personal negative feelings towards them for whatever they told me. I might denounce some actions or ways of thought, I might chastise, but I only do so for the good of the individual and others involved. My philosophy is generally "Whatever makes you happy", although sometimes we think we're obtaining happiness, but it's only an illusion that will quickly fade, showing your mirage to really be a cactus in disguise. But I don't openly express it. I don't announce to the world that I'm understanding and non-judgmental. I just act apathetically indifferent. And then, of course, there's the whole "no contact" thing. I think I've gotten to the point where I can tolerate it, but I certainly won't seek it. I still try to avoid it, but I'll probably start chastising myself when I do.
Of course, the whole "waiting" thing is also a problem. I'm a pretty reactionary person. I rarely take initiative myself, but if you start something with me I'll be glad to go through with it. I dunno, in certain moods I'd be willing to do some pretty strange things. Legal and moral, of course, but you won't know til you ask. I just wait for people to involve me. I don't call people often, I don't IM them much, I just wait for them to. Unless I have a specific reason. I just don't start "conversations." I require "reasons." I want "plans." And it's a real downer.
Anyway, another problem with love and I is that I don't know if I'd ever try it out with someone I didn't share at least some feelings for. I dunno, attractive appearances for me are rather interesting. I might be able to tell you who was "pretty", but personality is too closely associated. As I know someone more, get a better sense for who they are, their very appearance becomes more becoming. I noticed watching a movie the other day. As the character was shown to have more integrity or whatever, she became prettier almost instantaneously. I dunno, maybe it happens to everyone. But "society" or "entertainment" or something seems to contradict the notion. I don't really find models all that pretty. I wouldn't call them ugly, but they're just people. The standard of "pretty" and "beautiful" seems placed on the outside so much now. People need pretty clothes, nice hair cuts, etc. I just want a plain person. As I like the person more, they become more attractive. It's as simple as that. I don't care about breasts or figures (although, I'm incredibly sorry to say, excess in the latter might be a bit of a factor, but it would have to be a great deal of excess. No one I know, at any rate). I just want a plain face. I'm a face person. Sure, my eyes drift to breasts occasionally, but I loathe it everytime it happens. It'd be nice if girls just never showed cleavage in the first place. Then the part of my mind I'm constantly fighting losing battles with wouldn't ever be tempted. Boggles the mind, it really does.
Let's see... I've written this so disjointedly, it's like a pointless maze now. I should delete it. But I won't. The public deserves to know! Or get lost trying. Heh, goodnight all. Pleasant Dreams.
Anyway, I did indeed make an entry yesterday. It was in my spinoff blog (you know, the one you're not allowed to read until you finish Perse). I haven't given up on Perse, but it was a good "resting point." I'll probably lay off awhile before I try to go back to weekly entries again. I dunno, I don't think I should go into the spinoff because it's a tad of a spoiler. But it's interesting, aiming for different tones and speakers everytime. Each entry is a different experience.
Eh, I just don't know. On the one hand, it's a nice hobby to have. Some kids do drugs, others do sports. I write and play games. But I keep having these delusions of grandeur. I keep thinking, "You can take it to another level!" I would really like to write a book of some sort. It'd have to be like Perse, zany and entertaining, but it'd have to be good enough to be published. People would have to like it. The problem is, I don't know how to achieve that. I have all these self-doubts that constantly plague me. And I don't want to set myself up for a crushing defeat.
I need a positive reinforcer. I suppose I need to fall in love (I'm out, in case you didn't know; I burned it off somehow. I blame the magic pixies). But love is going to be a very difficult issue for me. For one thing, the person will have to need me. I'm pretty certain I'm never going to ask another person, I just don't care enough. I deny myself quite a bit, and while restraint can be a good thing, I do it to excess. I downplay so much of the goings on of my life, I've ended up bored and rather boring. In some respects I've become stronger, and when I'm strong, I feel strong. But it's a precarious position. I'm so easily brought down by a doubt or comment by myself or others, I may as well be as weak as anyone else. If I was in love (and by that, I mean a "relationship" where such a feeling was mutual), I'd have a constant source of reassurance. It'd build confidence and fill the hollowness that causes me to crumble with such force and frequency.
It sounds worth it, but then I start actually thinking about the dynamics. I could tolerate the opinions of others, basically her opinion would suffice and I'd be able to actually, truly not be affected by others. But I'm just so stubborn. I don't take initiative or have interesting things to do. Like I said, I'm a bored and boring person. While I'd compromise on some issues, there are others than I'd flat out refuse. I can be quite apathetically difficult.
Or the opposite can be true. One of the things I dislike about myself is that I lack the ability to be "warm." I'm a cold, dry, usually dour person. While I suppose it has some good points (I rather like my sense of dark humor), I can't really show much positive emotion. Heck, I don't even get many positive emotions. I care, I really do, but it's so difficult to express it. I can't throw the word "love" around like some people do, because when I say it I mean either the love of a family member or the real, ultimate thing. I don't "love" any activities enough to say that I love them. I do plenty, but mainly to escape. I don't love life yet, but I think I can, after college. Another discussion, though. I'm just rather individual and cold. I need other people, I generally try to have their best interests at heart, and I always want the best for them. Anyone could talk to me about anything, and I would hold no personal negative feelings towards them for whatever they told me. I might denounce some actions or ways of thought, I might chastise, but I only do so for the good of the individual and others involved. My philosophy is generally "Whatever makes you happy", although sometimes we think we're obtaining happiness, but it's only an illusion that will quickly fade, showing your mirage to really be a cactus in disguise. But I don't openly express it. I don't announce to the world that I'm understanding and non-judgmental. I just act apathetically indifferent. And then, of course, there's the whole "no contact" thing. I think I've gotten to the point where I can tolerate it, but I certainly won't seek it. I still try to avoid it, but I'll probably start chastising myself when I do.
Of course, the whole "waiting" thing is also a problem. I'm a pretty reactionary person. I rarely take initiative myself, but if you start something with me I'll be glad to go through with it. I dunno, in certain moods I'd be willing to do some pretty strange things. Legal and moral, of course, but you won't know til you ask. I just wait for people to involve me. I don't call people often, I don't IM them much, I just wait for them to. Unless I have a specific reason. I just don't start "conversations." I require "reasons." I want "plans." And it's a real downer.
Anyway, another problem with love and I is that I don't know if I'd ever try it out with someone I didn't share at least some feelings for. I dunno, attractive appearances for me are rather interesting. I might be able to tell you who was "pretty", but personality is too closely associated. As I know someone more, get a better sense for who they are, their very appearance becomes more becoming. I noticed watching a movie the other day. As the character was shown to have more integrity or whatever, she became prettier almost instantaneously. I dunno, maybe it happens to everyone. But "society" or "entertainment" or something seems to contradict the notion. I don't really find models all that pretty. I wouldn't call them ugly, but they're just people. The standard of "pretty" and "beautiful" seems placed on the outside so much now. People need pretty clothes, nice hair cuts, etc. I just want a plain person. As I like the person more, they become more attractive. It's as simple as that. I don't care about breasts or figures (although, I'm incredibly sorry to say, excess in the latter might be a bit of a factor, but it would have to be a great deal of excess. No one I know, at any rate). I just want a plain face. I'm a face person. Sure, my eyes drift to breasts occasionally, but I loathe it everytime it happens. It'd be nice if girls just never showed cleavage in the first place. Then the part of my mind I'm constantly fighting losing battles with wouldn't ever be tempted. Boggles the mind, it really does.
Let's see... I've written this so disjointedly, it's like a pointless maze now. I should delete it. But I won't. The public deserves to know! Or get lost trying. Heh, goodnight all. Pleasant Dreams.
Wednesday, June 23
Brief Update
Bowling went well. They stopped the $1 per game discount, so a weekly thing is questionable. It's still cheaper than a movie. Back to the drawing board, perhaps.
I was ok with silence today. It wasn't as bad as it often is. Still not great though.
If only I knew how to "hang out." The concept is just too foreign to me. I can sit around and do nothing on my own! Eh, if only I had a bigger house. Must wait til college, I suppose. Farewell til next time!
I was ok with silence today. It wasn't as bad as it often is. Still not great though.
If only I knew how to "hang out." The concept is just too foreign to me. I can sit around and do nothing on my own! Eh, if only I had a bigger house. Must wait til college, I suppose. Farewell til next time!
The End of an Era
Well, the streak is over. I made a blog post in one of my blogs and Abner for many days straight, but I was so involved with my little venture into escapism tonight that it slipped my mind until about now to write in this one. Ah well, easy come... (Of course, the streak's still on if "periods of awakeness" count as days, but whatever).
So... Well, tomorrow I make my first foray into organizing a "gathering." That gathering: Bowling. I dunno, I like bowling. It's not as infuriating as golf, it's not as grueling as football, and Heaven, Hell, and the Pillsbury Doughboy know I need more arm strength. It's just a nice activity. Of course, we have to pay for it, but you can't win em all. If it's not too expensive and goes well, it'd be nice to make it a weekly thing. That's one of the reasons I really want a gaming club, to have a sort of weekly gathering where who knows who will show up and what will happen, but it's a structered environment with a set goal. Even if that goal is playing games.
An interesting subject, social activities. As most of you may have noticed, I'm not much for spontaneity. I'm not good at "hanging out" simply because I can't relax and accept uncertainty. That's part of the reasons I get panic attacks and I'm so affected by others. I'm paranoid. I worry what seems like all the time if my silly little mind can somehow make me responsible for things that happen. I get nervous even calling someone for fear I'm annoying them. At least, I think that's what's going on. On AIM, I know people are there just to talk. But calling someone always makes my heart race and my voice get shaky. The same but worse happens when I have to speak in front of a group. I panic. I can't calm down and think straight. The words become blurs and seem to switch around before my very eyes. Whether it's a too high expectation of myself or fear of failure, I don't know, but when I start shaking and practically break down for every single blasted presentation it drives me crazy. Another reason I want the gaming club, so I'll speak and semi-lead a group. Even if that group is just me...
Eh, for someone who has such a self-centered philosophy, I sure do worry about other people a lot. One of the many contradictions of my psyche, I suppose. My conscious mind can think all it wants, but it just can't tame my subconscious. And then, I'm stuck because it never occurs to me to actually ask anyone else how they feel. I forget to put myself in their shoes and think "Wow, this is boring. I wonder what it would be like if I was an ice-fishing eskimo running for Governor of Florida..." I want to make things exciting and be an interesting, involving person (because I know I don't like being left out and I try to follow that whole "Golden Rule" thing), but then I freeze or can't think of anything or just go into apathy/cynicism mode. I simultaneously care too much and not enough. I need to stop feeling like every moment of silence is a wasted oppurtunity. I need to stop getting nervous everytime I have to do some sort of performance where I can't go back and repair my mistakes. I need to freaking relax!
I blame a lack of foundation. For some reason, the fact that I don't have a set source of income and that I depend on my parents is a constant burden. It's not even a conscious thing, it's just like a wall to me having inner peace. I don't feel like I have something to fall back on, security both emotionally and financially. My parents will always support me, sure, but for some reason it's not enough. I often think that if I could fill the hole with love (as in, outside my family), I'd be able to have more of an emotional backbone and not be so bipolar/contradictory. So much of the trivialities life throws my way wouldn't matter. And I have that, to some extent, but for some unfathomable reason it isn't good enough! I think the only thing is a real "boyfriend/girlfriend" thing, but that alone would probably be yet another source of stress. Plus, it's a very confusing world, one I don't think I want to venture into. It's a shame, though, because the positive may very well be better than the negative.
Ah well. I'm still learning. I'm "socially retarded" to an extent, I suppose, because I was trapped in my own little escapist world for so long. Not only that, but I could drive. So, when I finally emerged from both video games and dependence on other sources for transportation, it was as if I had my own "Awakening." I started thinking about things more, feeling things more, certainly writing more. But that's been less than a year now. Perhaps you all are new to this sort of thing too. I dunno. But that's neither here, there, or Peru. And I must be off to bed. Farewell and if I don't see you tomorrow, hopefully it'll be sooner than later.
So... Well, tomorrow I make my first foray into organizing a "gathering." That gathering: Bowling. I dunno, I like bowling. It's not as infuriating as golf, it's not as grueling as football, and Heaven, Hell, and the Pillsbury Doughboy know I need more arm strength. It's just a nice activity. Of course, we have to pay for it, but you can't win em all. If it's not too expensive and goes well, it'd be nice to make it a weekly thing. That's one of the reasons I really want a gaming club, to have a sort of weekly gathering where who knows who will show up and what will happen, but it's a structered environment with a set goal. Even if that goal is playing games.
An interesting subject, social activities. As most of you may have noticed, I'm not much for spontaneity. I'm not good at "hanging out" simply because I can't relax and accept uncertainty. That's part of the reasons I get panic attacks and I'm so affected by others. I'm paranoid. I worry what seems like all the time if my silly little mind can somehow make me responsible for things that happen. I get nervous even calling someone for fear I'm annoying them. At least, I think that's what's going on. On AIM, I know people are there just to talk. But calling someone always makes my heart race and my voice get shaky. The same but worse happens when I have to speak in front of a group. I panic. I can't calm down and think straight. The words become blurs and seem to switch around before my very eyes. Whether it's a too high expectation of myself or fear of failure, I don't know, but when I start shaking and practically break down for every single blasted presentation it drives me crazy. Another reason I want the gaming club, so I'll speak and semi-lead a group. Even if that group is just me...
Eh, for someone who has such a self-centered philosophy, I sure do worry about other people a lot. One of the many contradictions of my psyche, I suppose. My conscious mind can think all it wants, but it just can't tame my subconscious. And then, I'm stuck because it never occurs to me to actually ask anyone else how they feel. I forget to put myself in their shoes and think "Wow, this is boring. I wonder what it would be like if I was an ice-fishing eskimo running for Governor of Florida..." I want to make things exciting and be an interesting, involving person (because I know I don't like being left out and I try to follow that whole "Golden Rule" thing), but then I freeze or can't think of anything or just go into apathy/cynicism mode. I simultaneously care too much and not enough. I need to stop feeling like every moment of silence is a wasted oppurtunity. I need to stop getting nervous everytime I have to do some sort of performance where I can't go back and repair my mistakes. I need to freaking relax!
I blame a lack of foundation. For some reason, the fact that I don't have a set source of income and that I depend on my parents is a constant burden. It's not even a conscious thing, it's just like a wall to me having inner peace. I don't feel like I have something to fall back on, security both emotionally and financially. My parents will always support me, sure, but for some reason it's not enough. I often think that if I could fill the hole with love (as in, outside my family), I'd be able to have more of an emotional backbone and not be so bipolar/contradictory. So much of the trivialities life throws my way wouldn't matter. And I have that, to some extent, but for some unfathomable reason it isn't good enough! I think the only thing is a real "boyfriend/girlfriend" thing, but that alone would probably be yet another source of stress. Plus, it's a very confusing world, one I don't think I want to venture into. It's a shame, though, because the positive may very well be better than the negative.
Ah well. I'm still learning. I'm "socially retarded" to an extent, I suppose, because I was trapped in my own little escapist world for so long. Not only that, but I could drive. So, when I finally emerged from both video games and dependence on other sources for transportation, it was as if I had my own "Awakening." I started thinking about things more, feeling things more, certainly writing more. But that's been less than a year now. Perhaps you all are new to this sort of thing too. I dunno. But that's neither here, there, or Peru. And I must be off to bed. Farewell and if I don't see you tomorrow, hopefully it'll be sooner than later.
Monday, June 21
Observations, Insights, and Rubbish (A bit of Redundancy, too)
Heh, as a forewarning to the below post, I'm actually referring to a few of you in it in what could possibly be construed as a less than favorable light. Please don't take offense, I don't have any ill feelings or malicious intent and I'd hopefully never condemn you or your actions unless I felt they were harmful to yourself or others, I'm just making observations that I find interesting.
The day started off pretty much the same as every other day this summer. I wake up and think, "You know, I've got no real incentive to get out of bed. But I feel like I've wasted so much time sleeping late. But there's nothing to do when I get out..." etc. It's such a common problem with me, I find. I'm just not interested in many of the trivialities of life. The details, the daily events, the things that can and will be forgotten. Not only of myself, but also of others. Practically any event that's remotely ordinary I don't really care about. I actually hold a negative opinion about speaking of events and people neither of the parties represent or are concerned about. I can force myself to be somewhat interested in other's daily happenings, if that's the person's intent, but if it doesn't even involve you... I dunno. I say that, but then I see how very little I have to talk about. When you're not interested in hardly anything at all, there is very little basis for conversation. As you may have noticed, I've taken to making observations like these when I'm bored. Just mulling things about in my head and making different connections. It still doesn't make for good conversation.
So the question becomes, what does? At first I begin to think I'm just an uninteresting person with nothing of any import to say, but then I remember a conversation is two ways. The other person doesn't have all that much either. And I think it's a problem. A problem I'm not exactly sure how to handle. And it gets to the root of a larger issue that I see plaguing me all summer. I'm just not interested in much. I have this delusional idea that life should be interesting, that people should have things to talk about and do all the time. But when I'm put in many social situations, I find that's not the case. I'll give you two examples that I thought were rather interesting. Now, like I said, I like you all. I hardly dislike anyone, and as long as you're not cruel/sadistic/personally invasive you're fine in my book. If you're reading my blog, it's a very safe assumption I like you. I may not show it, but I do care for ya all. So please don't let anything I say offend you.
When we went to Pigeon Forge, I had two separate, distinct groups riding with me. On the way up I had Abby, Caitlin, David, and Derek. It was nice, because they always talked. There wasn't any silence. I loathe silence. I may not particularly appreciate what they talk about, as it often breaches the above mentioned conversation areas, but I do think I prefer it to silence. And then, on the way back, I had Morgan, Ellen, and Cory. And it was quiet. Not all the time, but for a good part of the time, there wasn't much talking. And it grinds my nerves. I feel like people aren't enjoying themselves, are uncomfortable, and feel akward. At least I do.
So what does that mean? The only times I have good conversations seem to be when I start imagining and making things up. Or when I have fodder, like a book/movie/current event to philosophize/ridicule. Even just ordinary actions, I'll make dark imaginary continuations of them. But with no firm basis for conversation... Eh, look at the two above situations. Neither optimal, neither absymal. Gotta make a call somewhere. Heh, my indecisiveness will be discussed later, as my deadline is nearing. Until next time, stay safe, be careful, and be happy!
The day started off pretty much the same as every other day this summer. I wake up and think, "You know, I've got no real incentive to get out of bed. But I feel like I've wasted so much time sleeping late. But there's nothing to do when I get out..." etc. It's such a common problem with me, I find. I'm just not interested in many of the trivialities of life. The details, the daily events, the things that can and will be forgotten. Not only of myself, but also of others. Practically any event that's remotely ordinary I don't really care about. I actually hold a negative opinion about speaking of events and people neither of the parties represent or are concerned about. I can force myself to be somewhat interested in other's daily happenings, if that's the person's intent, but if it doesn't even involve you... I dunno. I say that, but then I see how very little I have to talk about. When you're not interested in hardly anything at all, there is very little basis for conversation. As you may have noticed, I've taken to making observations like these when I'm bored. Just mulling things about in my head and making different connections. It still doesn't make for good conversation.
So the question becomes, what does? At first I begin to think I'm just an uninteresting person with nothing of any import to say, but then I remember a conversation is two ways. The other person doesn't have all that much either. And I think it's a problem. A problem I'm not exactly sure how to handle. And it gets to the root of a larger issue that I see plaguing me all summer. I'm just not interested in much. I have this delusional idea that life should be interesting, that people should have things to talk about and do all the time. But when I'm put in many social situations, I find that's not the case. I'll give you two examples that I thought were rather interesting. Now, like I said, I like you all. I hardly dislike anyone, and as long as you're not cruel/sadistic/personally invasive you're fine in my book. If you're reading my blog, it's a very safe assumption I like you. I may not show it, but I do care for ya all. So please don't let anything I say offend you.
When we went to Pigeon Forge, I had two separate, distinct groups riding with me. On the way up I had Abby, Caitlin, David, and Derek. It was nice, because they always talked. There wasn't any silence. I loathe silence. I may not particularly appreciate what they talk about, as it often breaches the above mentioned conversation areas, but I do think I prefer it to silence. And then, on the way back, I had Morgan, Ellen, and Cory. And it was quiet. Not all the time, but for a good part of the time, there wasn't much talking. And it grinds my nerves. I feel like people aren't enjoying themselves, are uncomfortable, and feel akward. At least I do.
So what does that mean? The only times I have good conversations seem to be when I start imagining and making things up. Or when I have fodder, like a book/movie/current event to philosophize/ridicule. Even just ordinary actions, I'll make dark imaginary continuations of them. But with no firm basis for conversation... Eh, look at the two above situations. Neither optimal, neither absymal. Gotta make a call somewhere. Heh, my indecisiveness will be discussed later, as my deadline is nearing. Until next time, stay safe, be careful, and be happy!
Sunday, June 20
Sweeping Up
Alright kids, pay attention, this might pertain to you someday. So, ten years from now, you want to create a show for broadway. Yes, I know, you're an unemployed plumber with only one arm who has no experience working in musicals or with liontaming, but that's beside the point. You need soemthing new, something different, a real "hit." That's when you remember this blog entry and your career skyrockets. Here's the pitch:
A young man named Robert is a prodigy. He's a master of all pursuits educational, physical, and philosophical. He can do practically anything he wants. So, graduating top in not only his class, but the entire state, he proceeds to forego his collegic career and becomes a High School custodian. Thus it is that the Janitor's adventures through a long life of being the most overqualified janitor ever begin. Here's a snippet to get your future creative juices flowing:
Anonymous Person: "He should have been a poet!"
Bob: "Don't I know it!"
Random Old Person: "He should have gone on to act!"
Bob: "That's a fact!"
Perfectly Ordinary Cyborg: "He should have done so much more."
Bob: "I know it to my core!"
And then everyone starts chanting their lines except Bob who goes on to sing:
"But I want to sweep! I want to clean!
I want to shine, I wish to polish, I need to shean!
It's all for a good cause, it doesn't give me pause,
I clean up messes, no matter what for,
I am Bob the Janitor!!!"
Now, honestly, isn't that the best pitch for a musical you've heard in quite some time? It's like a combination of "Mr. Holland's Opus" meets "Oklahoma" meets Mr. Clean. And here you get the idea for free. I envy you.
A young man named Robert is a prodigy. He's a master of all pursuits educational, physical, and philosophical. He can do practically anything he wants. So, graduating top in not only his class, but the entire state, he proceeds to forego his collegic career and becomes a High School custodian. Thus it is that the Janitor's adventures through a long life of being the most overqualified janitor ever begin. Here's a snippet to get your future creative juices flowing:
Anonymous Person: "He should have been a poet!"
Bob: "Don't I know it!"
Random Old Person: "He should have gone on to act!"
Bob: "That's a fact!"
Perfectly Ordinary Cyborg: "He should have done so much more."
Bob: "I know it to my core!"
And then everyone starts chanting their lines except Bob who goes on to sing:
"But I want to sweep! I want to clean!
I want to shine, I wish to polish, I need to shean!
It's all for a good cause, it doesn't give me pause,
I clean up messes, no matter what for,
I am Bob the Janitor!!!"
Now, honestly, isn't that the best pitch for a musical you've heard in quite some time? It's like a combination of "Mr. Holland's Opus" meets "Oklahoma" meets Mr. Clean. And here you get the idea for free. I envy you.
I need...
I need a plan. I need a goal. I need... "various other things." I need a distraction, because the more I think the more wrong I am! I'll settle for an adventure though. Can't think too much when being chased by Nigerian cannibals armed with pitchforks and metronomes.
Saturday, June 19
Shiver my Timbers, Shiver my Soul
Yo Ho Heave Ho! So I watched part of "Muppet Treasure Island" today because, along with Moulin Rouge and various other movies, we actually own it. And, I'm glad to say, it's an enjoyable movie. It's got pirates, it's got singing, it's got comedy, it's got intrigue, murder, suspense, who could ask for anything more? Ah, if only Mr. Rogers would choose Pirates of the Caribbean for our show music. Then we'd all have nicknames, Derek would run around saying "ABast me heartey's!" and what not. Good times indeed. Pirate mariachis may have to do, though. Ah well.
Well, the fires of whatever have been somewhat quenched, but I still seem to be on my way to going stircrazy. I suppose the reasons are twofold. The first being an issue in the present. I seem to have managed to marginalize just about everything. I don't really have any plans, goals, or joys. I just seem to not really enjoy anything. I might actually do it, but whenever I start thinking about it, nada. I have to live vicariously through others, but even then it has to be my way (ie not material objects or lies; I also have to cause it for some reason). Perhaps it's because I'm always worried about something. That would explain my frequent nightmares about being late to class (those will have to another entry, though). That I just cannot relax. Or maybe I can and I just don't realize it. But I think the main reason may be that I expect more of life. I expect more than I can have, in terms of emotional experiences. Either I don't let myself rise to that level or I'm delusional. It's very distressing. When even activities that are supposed to be enjoyable only serve to occupy, not really amuse. I seem to only enjoy things when part of a team or side because then I have a niche, a reason, a purpose. It's why I like driving, because then I'm serving a needed purpose.
But that just further reinforces my dependence on others. Me, a person who theoretically cares little about people's opinions and preaches contentment with only oneself, has to depend on others. It's illogical! Ah well, what can I do? Absolutely nothing. I've no plans! If I had things I wanted to do I'm sure I'd take you all with me. Good thing Ellen's on the case for finding good towns to visit!
Eh, once again I've run out of steam before getting to college. My mind is becoming more and more fragmented. So I bid you all farewell until next time...
Well, the fires of whatever have been somewhat quenched, but I still seem to be on my way to going stircrazy. I suppose the reasons are twofold. The first being an issue in the present. I seem to have managed to marginalize just about everything. I don't really have any plans, goals, or joys. I just seem to not really enjoy anything. I might actually do it, but whenever I start thinking about it, nada. I have to live vicariously through others, but even then it has to be my way (ie not material objects or lies; I also have to cause it for some reason). Perhaps it's because I'm always worried about something. That would explain my frequent nightmares about being late to class (those will have to another entry, though). That I just cannot relax. Or maybe I can and I just don't realize it. But I think the main reason may be that I expect more of life. I expect more than I can have, in terms of emotional experiences. Either I don't let myself rise to that level or I'm delusional. It's very distressing. When even activities that are supposed to be enjoyable only serve to occupy, not really amuse. I seem to only enjoy things when part of a team or side because then I have a niche, a reason, a purpose. It's why I like driving, because then I'm serving a needed purpose.
But that just further reinforces my dependence on others. Me, a person who theoretically cares little about people's opinions and preaches contentment with only oneself, has to depend on others. It's illogical! Ah well, what can I do? Absolutely nothing. I've no plans! If I had things I wanted to do I'm sure I'd take you all with me. Good thing Ellen's on the case for finding good towns to visit!
Eh, once again I've run out of steam before getting to college. My mind is becoming more and more fragmented. So I bid you all farewell until next time...
Friday, June 18
The Attack is Repelled
Hmm. You know, a strange thing just happened to me. Angst was raging, I was infuriating myself, life had once again got to me. And then, I watched a relative tragedy (Moulin Rouge, to be precise), and somehow it made me feel better. It wasn't sadistic, it wasn't vindictive, it was... inspiring. Blame the good ole Romanticism that rooms with Nihilism(they've got their pros and cons, you be the judge there heh). The sandpaper that had been rubbing continually against my heart has faded to a low scratch. I'm not cured, but for some reason it's bearable now. It's not quite a feeling of peace, but it's lessened the rage and fatalistic futility. At the same time, it's reinforced my resolve to do absolutely nothing with my life. Ironic, I suppose. And although I'd originally intended to delve into that abyss tonight, my mind seems to be drawing a blank (and it's a very good artist in that regard). Perhaps later. Next time. Always waiting until next time...
Walls
Staring at walls is not entertaining. I need action! I need adventure! I need something to do other than sitting in front of the computer! It really is a shame I can never think of anything. Except summer reading. Wouldn't that be something...
Thursday, June 17
Another One!
Yes, I got inspired and created my next blog (the Lucifer and company spinoff) today. If you want a gander, check the links to the right after you've read the latest Perse entry (it would spoil the ending otherwise). Overall, I'm rather pleased with the intro. It's a good idea, and I can take it a lot of places. I just have to figure out how! I've pretty much figured the setting, the tone(s), and the writing style, I just need to decide exactly how I want the plot to work. It should be ...interesting.
Anywho, I was going to make my big post about college today, but I figure that can wait til later. Suffice it to say, if you can think up any convincing arguments to get me to avoid going to a cheap, easy, local college and actually try to get in a decent one, I'm all ears. I want you to convince me! Unfortunately, it's probably too daunting a task for any one person to undertake. Ah well. That'll have to wait until next time.
Anywho, I was going to make my big post about college today, but I figure that can wait til later. Suffice it to say, if you can think up any convincing arguments to get me to avoid going to a cheap, easy, local college and actually try to get in a decent one, I'm all ears. I want you to convince me! Unfortunately, it's probably too daunting a task for any one person to undertake. Ah well. That'll have to wait until next time.
Wednesday, June 16
Today
Woohoo! I finished the dramatic conclusion to Perse's current arc. I don't know how you liked the ending, but it'll be expanded more in the spinoff blog I'll hopefully create soon. The new one will be a different beast because it's not meant to be funny. It's meant to be more philosophically and psychologically (but not spelling, grammar, or continuity) intensive than Perse, and it should be an interesting experience. But you'll have to wait til I write them, won't you? Ah, it feels good to finally get something done for a change. Now to wait another 3weeks before I lift a finger... Ta ta!
Tuesday, June 15
Snap!
Do you ever wonder how your life could change on different paths? Do you ever think of all the infinite possibilities that would be available to you? All the successes, all the failures, all the bliss, all the misery? Your imagination runs wild. You're a plumber, doing a dirty job for money you really don't want. SNAP! You're a successful businessman running a multinational corporation planning to kill yourself tomorrow because your soul has been rejected in every pursuit that doesn't involve corruption. SNAP! You're a clown who enjoys scaring small children. SNAP! You're a food bagger at Food City and you're the happiest person on earth because you've got your priorities right and so does she. SNAP! You're running for Senate and have a chance at winning if only you'll compromise your integrity and say that one, seemingly insignificant lie. SNAP! You're a homeless person who was once the most influential pizza delivery boy in the entire tri-state area. SNAP! You are the Messiah, but in a horribly unexpected riding accident you become completely paralyzed and can only communicate by very faintly wiggling your left ear. SNAP! You are a vagrant, a lost soul desperately seeking something to cling to in a cold, callous world that doesn't want those who do not fit the scheme to be a part of it. SNAP! You're a homemaker, taking care of 5 small children and hoping they can learn from your myriad of mistakes and have a chance to follow their dreams of being a forensic accountant unlike you. SNAP! You're an FBI agent who's sole job is to play politics in a tainted system using tainted methods to achieve goals that initially seemed pure, but each day you question more and more. SNAP! You're a brilliant novelist who has written works read and enjoyed by millions of people, endearing yourself to the masses and donating the vast majority of your wealth to charity and promoting causes of hope and universal cooperation where ever you go. SNAP! You're a mediocre poet who doesn't know it and constantly tries to become a success in a profession that you cannot understand and that even the best will not succeed in. SNAP! You are a nihilist, a person devoid of any morality or purpose but those twisted verisimilitudes that you fashion out of your hollowed soul. SNAP! You are the leader of a small, but powerful nation and gradually gather strength and form alliances you never intend on keeping to enable you to take over the world and establish an order that is a utopia to you, a Hell to everyone else. SNAP! You work in a fast food restaurant, serving overweight, self-despising people ugly boulders to attempt to fill the every-widening hole for 50years. SNAP! You are a peaceful activist, a woman who has truly seen the light and seeks to make a difference because you have the desire, the passion, and the dream. SNAP! You're a movie star who acknowledges your own superficiality and emptiness, but revels in the hedonism your short, but exciting life supplies. SNAP! You're a furniture salesman who, in your spare time, forms beautiful sculptures that you always destroy for they are not worthy of anyone but yourself and God. SNAP! You are a high school math teacher who could have been everything but failed. SNAP! You are a teenager, confused and alone when all you really want is a something you cannot speak of, cannot predict, and cannot understand but have to try nonetheless. SNAP! You are yourself, a vessel of Fate, a puppet of God, a ball of clay who is shaped by yourself with unmolded hands into some, none, or all of these possibilities each more fantastic, more miserable, more mundane than you could have ever dreamed.
As each second passes, the mold becomes more defined. Points that could have been smoothed out and done over rapidly harden to the point of no return. You are the potter, but so is reality, so are your friends, so are your enemies, so are people, places, and butterflies you have never met or will never know existed.
That is the point I find myself in. I could be so much and do so many things, or so people tell me, but I can't believe them. They have warped, bias viewpoints. If I do something, I want to excel at it. I want to be the very best possible. Perhaps not directly in comparison with others, but the standard of excellence and success that is commonly accepted, I want to pass it. With a high school teacher, that bar is rather low. Show passion, show interest, and show that you really do care and you've pretty much achieved it. I can do that. But I don't think I can do much else. All those realities, all those different paths that people claim I can go down are but pipedreams. The biggest problem is that I have no faith. Not just in a divine sense, but in anything. No faith in others, no faith in humanity, and no faith in myself. And thus far, I've had nothing to prove to the contrary.
As each second passes, the mold becomes more defined. Points that could have been smoothed out and done over rapidly harden to the point of no return. You are the potter, but so is reality, so are your friends, so are your enemies, so are people, places, and butterflies you have never met or will never know existed.
That is the point I find myself in. I could be so much and do so many things, or so people tell me, but I can't believe them. They have warped, bias viewpoints. If I do something, I want to excel at it. I want to be the very best possible. Perhaps not directly in comparison with others, but the standard of excellence and success that is commonly accepted, I want to pass it. With a high school teacher, that bar is rather low. Show passion, show interest, and show that you really do care and you've pretty much achieved it. I can do that. But I don't think I can do much else. All those realities, all those different paths that people claim I can go down are but pipedreams. The biggest problem is that I have no faith. Not just in a divine sense, but in anything. No faith in others, no faith in humanity, and no faith in myself. And thus far, I've had nothing to prove to the contrary.
Monday, June 14
Sunday, June 13
Temporarily Out of Order
It's strange. To write the "dirge" for Perse today, I actually had to actively make myself depressed. That's a good sign of mental health if I do say so myself. Or insanity. Your call.
But just the dirge was written. Full entry will hopefully be up tomorrow.
But just the dirge was written. Full entry will hopefully be up tomorrow.
Places to Do, People to Go, Things to See
Yes, all that and more. ALL of it. Darn tootin! But, what I mean to say, is that one of my biggest "regrets" about my life is that I'm not a very warm person. I'm not an eloquent speaker, much less a conversationalist. In fact, half the things I say are dark and the other half just plain stupid. Hopefully people laugh at them, but sometimes I wonder if it's a pity laugh/uncomfortable laugh rather than genuine amusement. Who knows? You do. And I don't. I also don't like not knowing what people really think. But then, I don't ask do I?
But, despite this shortcoming of social grace and poise, I still like going places with people. I look forward to going on these roadtrips we've done recently (all two or three of em). I can't invite people to my home. It's far, it's dirty, it's small, and my father just wouldn't like it. That bothers me. See, I like most people. Even the ones I dislike, I can tolerate. There are so many people I never see or meet or do things with that are probably quite interesting people who it'd be nice to get to know. And it's not even that in social environments you get to know people. You just hear a bit there, a comment there, and gradually a better image of them forms. The more you're in their presence, the more the idea of them in your head is defined. I dunno, a lot I just shrug off. But I'm quite a non-judgmental person (on individuals), and pretty much unless they're niggling or sadistic, I can tolerate them. It helps if they go along, laugh, or smile at my crazy antics or if they provide fodder to fill those gaps of silence that I loathe so much. But, the point is, if I had an ideal situation I'd just have a long list. And one day I'd just go down it and call every house until I got three or ten or thirty people saying, "If you're not doing anything tomorrow, you ought to come to my house for boardgames/movies/attack on Lithuania." Heck, I could even try to get you people to play video games. I haven't done that in forever. But it's not to be.
So, my alternatives are to use outside places as meeting sources. For instance, hopefully Mr. Petko and I will get this Gaming Club up and running and be able to use the school in lieu of my home (there are inherent problems that I don't know how to work out, we'll just have to see). But also using outside places, such as the road, the mountains, the roof of the City County Building, and prison. Tennessee's got a myriad of strange little locations that in and of themselves are boring. But if you get the right people together, almost anything becomes entertaining. I don't get to participate in the conversations on the road much (I have to put more effort than most into focusing on driving), but I generally enjoy listening. Even if it appears I'm not having a good time or get in a sour mood, it's just a passing fancy that shouldn't be taken for anything.
It's an interesting thing, me and social situations. There are times when I go absolutely wild, uninhibited and carefree. And then there are times I close up and my depression meter skyrockets (that's probably an oxymoron, go figure). But generally if people get along (and you all should be on your best behavior. If you're not, I'll pull that car over and give you all a talking to you won't soon remember!) and they actually converse it's all good. I just so loathe silence because it seems to imply people aren't having at least an amusing time and being entertained. That's one of the reasons I like driving, because I don't have to feel guilty for it. I'm pulling my weight. But still, outside the car and even inside a bit, I feel bad. I like people to be happy or the nearest feasible equivalent. Heh, maybe I kill conversations. I dunno, only one way to try to improve.
So, I just had a brilliant idea. We'll travel to all these tiny, boondockish places in Tennessee and film them. Get a few shots of us there, maybe a voice over where we mock historians, something. And then we'll put em all together in a movie "Tennessee: Land of Wonders, Thrills, and Rednecks" (that's a title still in progress, of course). But it would be great! Not only would we have a reason to go to all the boondock hills, but it'd be fun and we'd have something to show for our efforts. So, we'd just pick a place (or three), pick a day, pick a route, and call up all the people we knew to go out and have a day of adventure and exploration! It's our home state, we'd better learn about sometime! It'd also be a nice "going away" project for those of you planning on heading out of state for college and possibly the rest of your lives. A sort of "Farewell tour", if you will. We don't even have to limit ourselves to Tennessee! There's all sorts of stuff nearby. I just need people and a plan... Heh, it'll give me something to do. Or something for you to do, suggestions are welcome!
At any rate, I'd still like you to comment and provide suggestions. Most of you are out of town, though, so it's rather moot... Ah well, we'll see. Hopefully a Perse entry today. But you know they'll be something next time.
But, despite this shortcoming of social grace and poise, I still like going places with people. I look forward to going on these roadtrips we've done recently (all two or three of em). I can't invite people to my home. It's far, it's dirty, it's small, and my father just wouldn't like it. That bothers me. See, I like most people. Even the ones I dislike, I can tolerate. There are so many people I never see or meet or do things with that are probably quite interesting people who it'd be nice to get to know. And it's not even that in social environments you get to know people. You just hear a bit there, a comment there, and gradually a better image of them forms. The more you're in their presence, the more the idea of them in your head is defined. I dunno, a lot I just shrug off. But I'm quite a non-judgmental person (on individuals), and pretty much unless they're niggling or sadistic, I can tolerate them. It helps if they go along, laugh, or smile at my crazy antics or if they provide fodder to fill those gaps of silence that I loathe so much. But, the point is, if I had an ideal situation I'd just have a long list. And one day I'd just go down it and call every house until I got three or ten or thirty people saying, "If you're not doing anything tomorrow, you ought to come to my house for boardgames/movies/attack on Lithuania." Heck, I could even try to get you people to play video games. I haven't done that in forever. But it's not to be.
So, my alternatives are to use outside places as meeting sources. For instance, hopefully Mr. Petko and I will get this Gaming Club up and running and be able to use the school in lieu of my home (there are inherent problems that I don't know how to work out, we'll just have to see). But also using outside places, such as the road, the mountains, the roof of the City County Building, and prison. Tennessee's got a myriad of strange little locations that in and of themselves are boring. But if you get the right people together, almost anything becomes entertaining. I don't get to participate in the conversations on the road much (I have to put more effort than most into focusing on driving), but I generally enjoy listening. Even if it appears I'm not having a good time or get in a sour mood, it's just a passing fancy that shouldn't be taken for anything.
It's an interesting thing, me and social situations. There are times when I go absolutely wild, uninhibited and carefree. And then there are times I close up and my depression meter skyrockets (that's probably an oxymoron, go figure). But generally if people get along (and you all should be on your best behavior. If you're not, I'll pull that car over and give you all a talking to you won't soon remember!) and they actually converse it's all good. I just so loathe silence because it seems to imply people aren't having at least an amusing time and being entertained. That's one of the reasons I like driving, because I don't have to feel guilty for it. I'm pulling my weight. But still, outside the car and even inside a bit, I feel bad. I like people to be happy or the nearest feasible equivalent. Heh, maybe I kill conversations. I dunno, only one way to try to improve.
So, I just had a brilliant idea. We'll travel to all these tiny, boondockish places in Tennessee and film them. Get a few shots of us there, maybe a voice over where we mock historians, something. And then we'll put em all together in a movie "Tennessee: Land of Wonders, Thrills, and Rednecks" (that's a title still in progress, of course). But it would be great! Not only would we have a reason to go to all the boondock hills, but it'd be fun and we'd have something to show for our efforts. So, we'd just pick a place (or three), pick a day, pick a route, and call up all the people we knew to go out and have a day of adventure and exploration! It's our home state, we'd better learn about sometime! It'd also be a nice "going away" project for those of you planning on heading out of state for college and possibly the rest of your lives. A sort of "Farewell tour", if you will. We don't even have to limit ourselves to Tennessee! There's all sorts of stuff nearby. I just need people and a plan... Heh, it'll give me something to do. Or something for you to do, suggestions are welcome!
At any rate, I'd still like you to comment and provide suggestions. Most of you are out of town, though, so it's rather moot... Ah well, we'll see. Hopefully a Perse entry today. But you know they'll be something next time.
Saturday, June 12
Me.
After everything I've thought, everything I've tried to figure out, and everything I seek to understand there are very few things I know about myself. Mainly that I am fragmented. My mind has, gradually or in cyclical stages, undergone such entrop that I'm dull. I can't think straight. I think practically in curves. Curves that loop around and around and come back to the same thing that I'd forgotten over the course of the swirls. I dunno, comes with being a paradox. And what bigger paradox/oxymoron is there than a Romantic Nihilist? Maybe fragmented is too elaborate.
I'm just plain silly.
I'm just plain silly.
Muddled Epiphanies
Heh, don't ya love a good rant? I sure don't. But it does help you figure out what you believe. The funny thing is, everything you say in that semi-infuriated state isn't the entire truth of your belief-structure. It's an aspect of it, and only on later retrospective do you notice the flaws, chinks, and compromises you yourself make.
Such is the case with yesterday's rant (and if you missed it, I'd read it first, go save a half dozen orphans from a burning building, donate 5% of your yearly income to charity, and then read this). I try to follow what I said below. And it sounds justified. It doesn't invade on anyone else, it is almost purely involving the self. Thus, the self is the only one hurt. But hypocrisy and the ignorance of it will usually manage to poke its ugly head up. I don't really mind hypocrisy, generally. Obviously when it directly violates someone else it's not acceptable. But when you do something the opposite of your professed beliefs and recognize it (and don't try to hide it) I can generally stand it. There's no deception involved. But what's really annoying is unrecognized hypocrisy. When you do something contrary to your beliefs and don't even know it. It happens to all of us, me possibly more than others because I simply have a fragmented mind that can't actively process all information available, so it does it in select doses that makes sense at the time, but later seem quite wrong. When I do something hypocritical, I'd like to be alerted. And if it involves me/bothers me I'd like to alert others. Sometimes we just don't realize what we're doing. But after you've shot the flare, the next phase travels into dangerous waters. On the one hand, you can see the hypocrisy, apologize/remunerate and try to not repeat your mistake. Or, you can decide your actions are not hypocritical. In a subjective reality, it's often quite true that what one person sees as contrary to a stated belief could comply with it by another's definition. Defend your stance and stand by it. It's when you're wrong and refuse to recognize/realize that you get into trouble. But hopefully that situation is quite rare.
But speaking of troubled waters, the theme I tried to address yesterday (in a somewhat cursory manner, time restraints and whatnot. Which, while I'm on, I'll say Abby's refusal to follow the rules in Apples to Apples last night was deplorable. Just because Caitlin requested it. See! Make comments, get results! You should follow that more often, especially in Perse! Anyway...). I stated yesterday that the best course of actions (and although I acknowledge "best" is subjective, I came down rather single-minded yesterday) is to only involve/worry yourself in your actions. However, although it sounds good in theory, most of you should know theory rarely works in reality. It is a rather Rand-y view (The idea of everyman for himself simply won't work, but that's another entry). But when care and concern for your fellow man (or fe-man hehe) comes into play, it's a whole different ballgame. And it's like travelling through the fog in sunglasses. Even if you think you see the light, it's hard to tell which direction to head, especially without bumping into something (like a conveniently placed bayonet) or falling off something (a horse, a stool, the Empire State Building). What you think is in someone's best interests may be very wrong. You may only aggrivate the situation. But then there are times when orphans are in that burning building, when the nuns are in the broken down school bus on the way to the bank right in front of a rehab clinic, when someone's addicted to something harmful that you need to step in. Helping your fellow man, even when he doesn't see the harm he's doing to himself, is an admirable thing to do. You just have to be absolutely sure you'd not only want the same thing to be done to you in his situation, but also that you really believe what you're doing is solely (or most importantly) in this person's best interests. That's one reason I dislike Hell and eternal punishment so very much because it convinces people to violate other's belief structures in the guise of their best interests. Missionaries mean well (from a non-cynical viewpoint, at least), and I can tolerate some of them as long as they let me return the "enlightened" favor. Of course, if they refuse to listen to your beliefs as well they're just hypocrites. You ought to tell them that, they might be interested in improving their philosophical views once you point that out.
Now, if the snickering is subsided, I'll move on. While mowing the lawn yesterday, I had a revelation of sorts as to where to take Perse. It'll allow a good transition into adding the Lucifer blog, it'll allow me to head in a completely insane direction, it'll fit the Lucifer theme, and hope it'll be amusing and thought provoking at the same time. It might be two entries away, though, but hopefully I'll get something up by Monday.
I also took the ACT test. Math tests are fun. They really are. But only if you have enough time and aren't rushed. I was rushed. ACTs BAD! Eh, just another example of what not to do when teaching. Hhmmm, remind me to write about college sometime. Oh, and tell me to write Perse, I need the encouragement. And write more comments in general, giving more feedback. And give money to charities. Lots of money. To good charities. And change the world. Make it better in general. And play boardgames. Lots of em. Even online. We need to do that. You get on it right now. So enjoy yourself, make others happy without infringing on their personal rights, don't get upset, don't worry, be happy, comment, and read Perse. Those are your missions. At least, until I add more next time...
Such is the case with yesterday's rant (and if you missed it, I'd read it first, go save a half dozen orphans from a burning building, donate 5% of your yearly income to charity, and then read this). I try to follow what I said below. And it sounds justified. It doesn't invade on anyone else, it is almost purely involving the self. Thus, the self is the only one hurt. But hypocrisy and the ignorance of it will usually manage to poke its ugly head up. I don't really mind hypocrisy, generally. Obviously when it directly violates someone else it's not acceptable. But when you do something the opposite of your professed beliefs and recognize it (and don't try to hide it) I can generally stand it. There's no deception involved. But what's really annoying is unrecognized hypocrisy. When you do something contrary to your beliefs and don't even know it. It happens to all of us, me possibly more than others because I simply have a fragmented mind that can't actively process all information available, so it does it in select doses that makes sense at the time, but later seem quite wrong. When I do something hypocritical, I'd like to be alerted. And if it involves me/bothers me I'd like to alert others. Sometimes we just don't realize what we're doing. But after you've shot the flare, the next phase travels into dangerous waters. On the one hand, you can see the hypocrisy, apologize/remunerate and try to not repeat your mistake. Or, you can decide your actions are not hypocritical. In a subjective reality, it's often quite true that what one person sees as contrary to a stated belief could comply with it by another's definition. Defend your stance and stand by it. It's when you're wrong and refuse to recognize/realize that you get into trouble. But hopefully that situation is quite rare.
But speaking of troubled waters, the theme I tried to address yesterday (in a somewhat cursory manner, time restraints and whatnot. Which, while I'm on, I'll say Abby's refusal to follow the rules in Apples to Apples last night was deplorable. Just because Caitlin requested it. See! Make comments, get results! You should follow that more often, especially in Perse! Anyway...). I stated yesterday that the best course of actions (and although I acknowledge "best" is subjective, I came down rather single-minded yesterday) is to only involve/worry yourself in your actions. However, although it sounds good in theory, most of you should know theory rarely works in reality. It is a rather Rand-y view (The idea of everyman for himself simply won't work, but that's another entry). But when care and concern for your fellow man (or fe-man hehe) comes into play, it's a whole different ballgame. And it's like travelling through the fog in sunglasses. Even if you think you see the light, it's hard to tell which direction to head, especially without bumping into something (like a conveniently placed bayonet) or falling off something (a horse, a stool, the Empire State Building). What you think is in someone's best interests may be very wrong. You may only aggrivate the situation. But then there are times when orphans are in that burning building, when the nuns are in the broken down school bus on the way to the bank right in front of a rehab clinic, when someone's addicted to something harmful that you need to step in. Helping your fellow man, even when he doesn't see the harm he's doing to himself, is an admirable thing to do. You just have to be absolutely sure you'd not only want the same thing to be done to you in his situation, but also that you really believe what you're doing is solely (or most importantly) in this person's best interests. That's one reason I dislike Hell and eternal punishment so very much because it convinces people to violate other's belief structures in the guise of their best interests. Missionaries mean well (from a non-cynical viewpoint, at least), and I can tolerate some of them as long as they let me return the "enlightened" favor. Of course, if they refuse to listen to your beliefs as well they're just hypocrites. You ought to tell them that, they might be interested in improving their philosophical views once you point that out.
Now, if the snickering is subsided, I'll move on. While mowing the lawn yesterday, I had a revelation of sorts as to where to take Perse. It'll allow a good transition into adding the Lucifer blog, it'll allow me to head in a completely insane direction, it'll fit the Lucifer theme, and hope it'll be amusing and thought provoking at the same time. It might be two entries away, though, but hopefully I'll get something up by Monday.
I also took the ACT test. Math tests are fun. They really are. But only if you have enough time and aren't rushed. I was rushed. ACTs BAD! Eh, just another example of what not to do when teaching. Hhmmm, remind me to write about college sometime. Oh, and tell me to write Perse, I need the encouragement. And write more comments in general, giving more feedback. And give money to charities. Lots of money. To good charities. And change the world. Make it better in general. And play boardgames. Lots of em. Even online. We need to do that. You get on it right now. So enjoy yourself, make others happy without infringing on their personal rights, don't get upset, don't worry, be happy, comment, and read Perse. Those are your missions. At least, until I add more next time...
Friday, June 11
Upset about Upset
You know what bothers me? People getting upset. Now, some upsetness is ok. There are indeed traumatizing experiences (involving violence, terror, your security, your personal wellbeing and the well being of others, and your life in context of whether it means anything and why on earth God won't give you that solid gold question mark for your lawn that you've been praying for every night for 25 years). Getting upset about events that directly affect your life but that you have no control over, that is justifiably upsetting. Doing the same thing to someone else is justifiably upsetting.
But what is not "justifiably upsetting" are what I call "social dramas." So and so says something to so and so who then yells at so and so who turns out to be so and so's (this is the first so and so, by the way) fake pet wildebeest. "Gossip" as I like to call it. My definition of gossip is speaking about someone(s) outside of their presence when it does not involve any of the parties participating in the discussion. If information is volunteered, that's fine. If you're concerned about someone's wellbeing and would like some guidance/help/plan of action/air strike then it's justifiable. But when you're talking about people for purely malicious or entertainment purposes, I find it reprehensible. Do I do it? I certainly try not to. Most of the time I do, it's out of concern. It certainly isn't with malicious intent. I'm pretty tolerant of most people and most ways of life as long as they don't interfere with the lives of others (My only real beef with other philosophies is Hell, because it directly effects parties not involved in that religion (it's the only situation like that I'm aware of). But that's another discussion). But when "speculations" or "hearsay" is transferred with no real relevance to any parties involved, it's just wrong.
That's how these "dramas" generally start(or so I can tell, having never been involved in any to my oh so fragmented recollections). And then, deception begins. I'm bad at deception. I couldn't lie my way out of bed in the morning. And I don't. If you ask me, point blank, any question I'll pretty much answer it. There's 1, maybe 2, things I would feel uncomfortable talking about, but other than that I'm an open-book. Call it a lack of complexity, call it what you will, but I try to follow the creed that if you feel ashamed of something, change it or don't feel bad about it. Either it's justifiable in your eyes and you shouldn't feel bad about it, or you feel it's wrong and should change it for your own wellbeing. What other people think shouldn't matter a bit. I believe it was Dr. Suess who said, "Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." If someone finds what you're doing despicable, then they can deal with it themselves. If you believe it's justified, you have no bad feelings about it (or the positive outweighs the negative), you don't have to change for them. Unless, of course, you want to. But often those people who don't understand and condemn things you feel are perfectly acceptable aren't the type of people you need to hang around anyway.
(I know this is a rant, but that's the second word in the title for crying out loud! I haven't had an actual rant in sometime, bear with me or go get some apple juice and take a nap). If you're completely open and don't feel ashamed of any of the things you do, you've got nothing to worry about. If you do things that you feel bad about and regret, apologize, admit you were wrong, apologize again, and try to learn from your mistake and not repeat it. Whenever feelings start getting hurt, take a step back. Survey the situation. Usually, they're pretty easy to disect. There's no sense in letting tiny, fixable problems turn into horrible beasts. Find the original source. Sit everyone down, tell them to stop worrying so much about everyone else, and put everything out in the open. Sometimes tact is necessary. But sometimes you just have to be firm.
The most important thing to remember is to be happy with who you are. Mold yourself into the individual you want to be. Do some self-searching, think for a change. It might be painful (you've seen me do it), but improve yourself until you've found something that works. If you're content with who you are, nothing can really hurt you. Your opinion is the only one that matters. That's not to say you shouldn't listen to criticism. Try to constantly improve. When someone points out one of your "flaws" look at it. If you find you don't like it, change. If you find it's not a flaw at all, don't. If that person can't look past it, they're probably not worth having around.
It seems I've run out of time, but I'll repeat the credo and the quote because I think they sum things up. If you're ashamed of something, change it or don't be ashamed. And, as Dr. Suess said, "Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." (It should be noted that this is true only for your actions that don't affect others. If you do things that have malicious or harmful effects on your fellow man, effects they can't ignore such as abuse verbal and physical, you have a responsibility to change.) Follow those two, and you'll only need to answer to yourself. Unfortunately, you might find you're the most difficult person to deal with of all.
But what is not "justifiably upsetting" are what I call "social dramas." So and so says something to so and so who then yells at so and so who turns out to be so and so's (this is the first so and so, by the way) fake pet wildebeest. "Gossip" as I like to call it. My definition of gossip is speaking about someone(s) outside of their presence when it does not involve any of the parties participating in the discussion. If information is volunteered, that's fine. If you're concerned about someone's wellbeing and would like some guidance/help/plan of action/air strike then it's justifiable. But when you're talking about people for purely malicious or entertainment purposes, I find it reprehensible. Do I do it? I certainly try not to. Most of the time I do, it's out of concern. It certainly isn't with malicious intent. I'm pretty tolerant of most people and most ways of life as long as they don't interfere with the lives of others (My only real beef with other philosophies is Hell, because it directly effects parties not involved in that religion (it's the only situation like that I'm aware of). But that's another discussion). But when "speculations" or "hearsay" is transferred with no real relevance to any parties involved, it's just wrong.
That's how these "dramas" generally start(or so I can tell, having never been involved in any to my oh so fragmented recollections). And then, deception begins. I'm bad at deception. I couldn't lie my way out of bed in the morning. And I don't. If you ask me, point blank, any question I'll pretty much answer it. There's 1, maybe 2, things I would feel uncomfortable talking about, but other than that I'm an open-book. Call it a lack of complexity, call it what you will, but I try to follow the creed that if you feel ashamed of something, change it or don't feel bad about it. Either it's justifiable in your eyes and you shouldn't feel bad about it, or you feel it's wrong and should change it for your own wellbeing. What other people think shouldn't matter a bit. I believe it was Dr. Suess who said, "Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." If someone finds what you're doing despicable, then they can deal with it themselves. If you believe it's justified, you have no bad feelings about it (or the positive outweighs the negative), you don't have to change for them. Unless, of course, you want to. But often those people who don't understand and condemn things you feel are perfectly acceptable aren't the type of people you need to hang around anyway.
(I know this is a rant, but that's the second word in the title for crying out loud! I haven't had an actual rant in sometime, bear with me or go get some apple juice and take a nap). If you're completely open and don't feel ashamed of any of the things you do, you've got nothing to worry about. If you do things that you feel bad about and regret, apologize, admit you were wrong, apologize again, and try to learn from your mistake and not repeat it. Whenever feelings start getting hurt, take a step back. Survey the situation. Usually, they're pretty easy to disect. There's no sense in letting tiny, fixable problems turn into horrible beasts. Find the original source. Sit everyone down, tell them to stop worrying so much about everyone else, and put everything out in the open. Sometimes tact is necessary. But sometimes you just have to be firm.
The most important thing to remember is to be happy with who you are. Mold yourself into the individual you want to be. Do some self-searching, think for a change. It might be painful (you've seen me do it), but improve yourself until you've found something that works. If you're content with who you are, nothing can really hurt you. Your opinion is the only one that matters. That's not to say you shouldn't listen to criticism. Try to constantly improve. When someone points out one of your "flaws" look at it. If you find you don't like it, change. If you find it's not a flaw at all, don't. If that person can't look past it, they're probably not worth having around.
It seems I've run out of time, but I'll repeat the credo and the quote because I think they sum things up. If you're ashamed of something, change it or don't be ashamed. And, as Dr. Suess said, "Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." (It should be noted that this is true only for your actions that don't affect others. If you do things that have malicious or harmful effects on your fellow man, effects they can't ignore such as abuse verbal and physical, you have a responsibility to change.) Follow those two, and you'll only need to answer to yourself. Unfortunately, you might find you're the most difficult person to deal with of all.
Thursday, June 10
Wednesday, June 9
Tuesday, June 8
Monday, June 7
The One True Oyster
Nothing much new. Except a Perse entry. So go and read it! Maybe more writing later. But who am I kidding? That's your question for the day.
Saturday, June 5
And then there was a puppy, and a kitty, and a really big explosion! Really!
So today was the SAT. The SAT. One of the most important tests you can take in your life. I did the practice test (800 Verbal, 740 Math (silly mode, why do you taunt me?) and was feeling pretty good about my prospects. I got up on time, a bit early in fact, and got over to school. And that's when it hit me. I was being followed. The SAT aside, I made a quick turn into a local Car Washing Facility in which some manner of drug deal was going on. I didn't have time to ask for seconds as a purple dune buggy with a clown dressed in shades of orange and cyan raised his shotgun at my quivering form and the bear-in-a-tutu driver Roared with such ferocity, my car seat will never be able to remove the stain. The smell's another story.
Anyway, I dash through the parking lot and around another corner. I look backwards to see my situation. Whew, they're gone. I look forward again and think Well you sure don't see that everySWEET MOTHER OF MY FAKE LORD, IS THAT A GIANT COLUMN OF FLAME?! It was indeed a giant column of fire. As brimstone rained from the Heavens on High, I knew either Satan had come to take what was rightfully his or I left the gas on at home and Joe, our resident Hobo, had gotten a warm welcome for his smoke break. I did a 360 and sped towards downtown, the Dark Prince's monstrous form reigning over the entire city. Lightning arced through the sky, demons of all manners, breeds, and sexual orientations swooped on wings made purely from the skin of the damned (and duct tape). The anguished cries from the Firey Underworld sent shivers throughout my being, forboding an eternity to come. I could not let this stand.
I summoned an army of my Puritan ancestors and they arose in the Horizon, a fleet of tri-cornered hat wearing Angels, brandishing pitchforks, torches, and assorted Disneyland memorabilia. The demons and Puritans clashed, leaving me to take on the Prince of Darkness himself. After Ozzy was vanquished (just fed him a Big Mac, the guy has veins like oatmeal), I turned around to see Satan sipping his margarita and reading the Washington Post. "I do love a good FLAMING BALL OF FIRE in the morning," he shouted as a tossed a boulder sized ball of flame straight at me. But being the ever vigilant, observant fellow I perpetually am, I picked up a fallen tree branch that had managed to avoid the firey vortex of doomed souls, fashioned a makeshift cross, and used it to absorb the fireball and defeat Satan once and for all. And that was why I missed the SAT.
Ok, so I exaggerate a bit. In reality, I went to West instead of Bearden, rushed to Bearden (after turning the wrong way on Kingston), fumbled my way around with a janitor making unhelpful comments about my disarray and belated condition, and finally got to the room, 2minutes after they had started. My father was livid and although I laughed it off, it is a horrible feeling after having done something so ridiculous. To go home, knowing you should be somewhere else doing something else is really quite unpleasant. Not to mention I'll have to wait til September or so to take it, an immense pain in the rear.
Ah well. Dylicious irony would have it that the reasons were easily discernible. If you've taken the Pre-Test, there is a story about the human mind being able to separate important facts from chaos. The example this particular exposition gave was of a deer trail. Deer make almost imperceptible trails in the wood, and yet somehow some people can pick out minute signs and follow them. They know what to look for. Well, the same thing happened to me, but I was looking for the wrong thing. I knew it was at Bearden. I knew it. But then I talked to someone online who thought it was at West. So the doubt was planted. When I finally went and saw for myself, I saw WEST HIGH SCHOOL printed on the paper. And I thought that was that. But, in fact, that was a copy of my school. Why it was written there too is beyond me, but I won't put the blame where it's not fully deserved. But it also had "Test Center: Bearden High School." I had just ignored the "chaos" and picked out the signs I was looking for. It just so happened I was looking for the wrong thing.
So I messed up. It's not like I'm the only one who hasn't taken an SAT yet(other than the one in 7th grade). But it's still an added hassle. Nothing to be done for it now but to move on. It's probably best not to bring it up again. On the bright side, it has replaced the Beretta Obliberation as my most recent major screw-up. How that's particularly bright, I'm not quite sure. But there I am.
Moving on, the Perse entry might be delayed again. I don't really feel like doing it, and to introduce an optimistic character in a less than motivated mood isn't a wise idea. We'll see. It'll happen by Wednesday though. Until next time...
Anyway, I dash through the parking lot and around another corner. I look backwards to see my situation. Whew, they're gone. I look forward again and think Well you sure don't see that everySWEET MOTHER OF MY FAKE LORD, IS THAT A GIANT COLUMN OF FLAME?! It was indeed a giant column of fire. As brimstone rained from the Heavens on High, I knew either Satan had come to take what was rightfully his or I left the gas on at home and Joe, our resident Hobo, had gotten a warm welcome for his smoke break. I did a 360 and sped towards downtown, the Dark Prince's monstrous form reigning over the entire city. Lightning arced through the sky, demons of all manners, breeds, and sexual orientations swooped on wings made purely from the skin of the damned (and duct tape). The anguished cries from the Firey Underworld sent shivers throughout my being, forboding an eternity to come. I could not let this stand.
I summoned an army of my Puritan ancestors and they arose in the Horizon, a fleet of tri-cornered hat wearing Angels, brandishing pitchforks, torches, and assorted Disneyland memorabilia. The demons and Puritans clashed, leaving me to take on the Prince of Darkness himself. After Ozzy was vanquished (just fed him a Big Mac, the guy has veins like oatmeal), I turned around to see Satan sipping his margarita and reading the Washington Post. "I do love a good FLAMING BALL OF FIRE in the morning," he shouted as a tossed a boulder sized ball of flame straight at me. But being the ever vigilant, observant fellow I perpetually am, I picked up a fallen tree branch that had managed to avoid the firey vortex of doomed souls, fashioned a makeshift cross, and used it to absorb the fireball and defeat Satan once and for all. And that was why I missed the SAT.
Ok, so I exaggerate a bit. In reality, I went to West instead of Bearden, rushed to Bearden (after turning the wrong way on Kingston), fumbled my way around with a janitor making unhelpful comments about my disarray and belated condition, and finally got to the room, 2minutes after they had started. My father was livid and although I laughed it off, it is a horrible feeling after having done something so ridiculous. To go home, knowing you should be somewhere else doing something else is really quite unpleasant. Not to mention I'll have to wait til September or so to take it, an immense pain in the rear.
Ah well. Dylicious irony would have it that the reasons were easily discernible. If you've taken the Pre-Test, there is a story about the human mind being able to separate important facts from chaos. The example this particular exposition gave was of a deer trail. Deer make almost imperceptible trails in the wood, and yet somehow some people can pick out minute signs and follow them. They know what to look for. Well, the same thing happened to me, but I was looking for the wrong thing. I knew it was at Bearden. I knew it. But then I talked to someone online who thought it was at West. So the doubt was planted. When I finally went and saw for myself, I saw WEST HIGH SCHOOL printed on the paper. And I thought that was that. But, in fact, that was a copy of my school. Why it was written there too is beyond me, but I won't put the blame where it's not fully deserved. But it also had "Test Center: Bearden High School." I had just ignored the "chaos" and picked out the signs I was looking for. It just so happened I was looking for the wrong thing.
So I messed up. It's not like I'm the only one who hasn't taken an SAT yet(other than the one in 7th grade). But it's still an added hassle. Nothing to be done for it now but to move on. It's probably best not to bring it up again. On the bright side, it has replaced the Beretta Obliberation as my most recent major screw-up. How that's particularly bright, I'm not quite sure. But there I am.
Moving on, the Perse entry might be delayed again. I don't really feel like doing it, and to introduce an optimistic character in a less than motivated mood isn't a wise idea. We'll see. It'll happen by Wednesday though. Until next time...
Friday, June 4
A Star is C-Sectioned
Well, I was a bum today. But I also wrote my first song. Go me! The Ballad of Blaggarty Bill. It'll be on Perse. I say it's a song, because you can actually put it to music. Not complex, orchestral, or anything, but it's got a tune and the verses fit. It's got a refrain! Heh, an interesting part of it is that you can change Blaggarty Bill to "Jasterly Jill" or "Dastardly Dyl" or what have you to fit whatever ya want. So if you want to read it, you'll have to read the next Perse entry (hopefully up tomorrow).
Eh, SAT tomorrow. And I don't feel like writing anything else. Good luck, good night, and good eating!
Eh, SAT tomorrow. And I don't feel like writing anything else. Good luck, good night, and good eating!
Thursday, June 3
Sprint
Too late to write. Hopefully lots tomorrow. In the meantime, answer me this: If I did it, would you blame me?
Wednesday, June 2
Addict? I can stop anytime I slobberslobberslobberglazedlookslobber
So I'm squandering my quite abundant free time on playing silly computer games. Really, it's almost ludicrous the lack of things I do. My right pointer finger is sore, either from lack of nutrients or too much work clicking and typing etc. So no Perse or long entry today. But I have ideas, oh how I have ideas! You people need to ask me to do something during a weekday. I might do it! Because if you don't, I'll atrophize and waste away. Nights there are parents who scare me. Days I'm free! Free! No charge! Call now and we'll even throw in this keychain! Throw it in! The pot! Pot of things you'll get! For free! With me! Hohohohehehe little brown jugs are all for free! Free! Free! Free! For a few more days. And then it's back to the bottom of the squid barrel for me. But at the moment I'm Free Free Free!
Tuesday, June 1
It worked!
Get down. Really down. Writhe in downness. Go crazy. Relatively crazy, but crazy. Then forget all about it. Let it all leave your mind. And then, finally, you're on the up and up! It's a treasure map to contentment.
Sweeping the Dirt under the
Carpet. Yes, the carpet. It looked at me with a gaze that could mollify tuna. Yes, tuna. Not a bad tuna, but one that kept going on and on in my head until I finally killed it. Killed it. JUST LIKE I'M GOING TO KILL THIS CARPET. And so the dance began. Parry. Thrust. Parry. Jab JAB JABJABJAB HACK HACK HACKITY HACK HACK STAB! Then it occured to me that not only can a carpet not fence, I can't hurt anything with a rubber wombat as my weapon. So I discard the wombat and grab a lamp. A lamp. Some hold genies, this one held a Halogen bulb that BURNED BURNED BURNED!!! BURNED LIKE THE SOUL OF A DISCO FIEND! Fiend. Yes. I brandished the lamp at the carpet. It catches fire. Fire?! FIRE!!! FIRE!!! RUN!!! Oh why didn't I pay attention during the pre-movie safety briefing!? WHY?!!?!?!? Why not? Because I'm going to burn not! Burn. Carpet. On fire. I win. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *COUGH*. Dear sweet mother of Pearl... Pearl. Yes, pearl. From an oyster. Oyster live in the sea. I see. No I don't, there's too much smoke! FIRE! No, we've done that. Or have we? Yes. No. Maybe so. ROUND&ROUND&ROUND we go where we stop nobody no's. Oh yes they do. No Smoking. I am Smoking. WRONG!
The Statue
An architect one night awoke from a dreadful dream.
The man had thought he’d seen his world as it should never seem.
A world of fallen Angels with joy washed away by time.
A world devoid of happiness; reason with no rhyme.
An ugly world, a corrupt world where no light would ere shine through.
A world devoid of beauty, shaded black but never blue.
So the architect jumped up and cried, “This world just cannot be!
To fix this task requires a man, an artist such as me!
I’ll make a statue better than all that came before.
A work of so much beauty, no one could ask for more.
A masterpiece of sadness, a triumph of so much joy;
A testament to Man and Hope and Every girl and boy!”
Thus he at once began his work on this monument so grand
And sought out the best materials and men throughout the land.
He found the greatest sculptor who could craft curves smooth as silk.
He bought 10 tons of marble whiter than whitest milk.
He hired the most skilled craftsmen to construct the monstrous scheme,
And finally he’d at last assembled his majestic team.
He devised a fleet of Angels, all beautiful and pure,
To stand for Hope and Beauty and to serve as mankind’s cure.
Some smiled, inspiring rapture; others sighed and sadness filled.
Some loved and laughed and died and cried; forgave but never killed
All that humans could become, the quintessential Man.
Such a work so grand and strong was the architect’s great plan.
But it wasn’t “meant to be.”
The sculptor was not sober,
The marble wasn’t free.
The craftsmen was one guy called “Moe”
Who worked for food and lived below
The bridge next to the architect’s cardboard shack.
The architect still planned and schemed
On charcoal sketches by polluted streams,
And the two men built a mound of dirt
Like that little Cupid squirt,
But his eyes were crossed
And his wings broken, merely stumps.
The mock-angel had a bow of plastic
And an arrow that was aluminum foil
From a meal less than fantastic
That the patrons of some restaurant had
Thrown Away
Onto the wretched, trash-strewn soil.
When it was finished, Moe died
Of a broken heart
Vessel and no one cried
Except the cupid and the architect. In the
Rainstorm of tears
The cupid was torn apart
And became the
Debris and a pile of mud
That it always was.
And the architect,
His plan a wreck,
Went back to sleep
Never to build or dream or fly or sing
Again
Sleeping on the dissipated ruins of
Cupid’s wing.
And then in sleep another nightmare of futures hence
Caused the god to bolt upright and at once commence
In crafting a wondrous beauty like the world had never seen
Ignoring verisimilitudes of a reality too mean.
The man had thought he’d seen his world as it should never seem.
A world of fallen Angels with joy washed away by time.
A world devoid of happiness; reason with no rhyme.
An ugly world, a corrupt world where no light would ere shine through.
A world devoid of beauty, shaded black but never blue.
So the architect jumped up and cried, “This world just cannot be!
To fix this task requires a man, an artist such as me!
I’ll make a statue better than all that came before.
A work of so much beauty, no one could ask for more.
A masterpiece of sadness, a triumph of so much joy;
A testament to Man and Hope and Every girl and boy!”
Thus he at once began his work on this monument so grand
And sought out the best materials and men throughout the land.
He found the greatest sculptor who could craft curves smooth as silk.
He bought 10 tons of marble whiter than whitest milk.
He hired the most skilled craftsmen to construct the monstrous scheme,
And finally he’d at last assembled his majestic team.
He devised a fleet of Angels, all beautiful and pure,
To stand for Hope and Beauty and to serve as mankind’s cure.
Some smiled, inspiring rapture; others sighed and sadness filled.
Some loved and laughed and died and cried; forgave but never killed
All that humans could become, the quintessential Man.
Such a work so grand and strong was the architect’s great plan.
But it wasn’t “meant to be.”
The sculptor was not sober,
The marble wasn’t free.
The craftsmen was one guy called “Moe”
Who worked for food and lived below
The bridge next to the architect’s cardboard shack.
The architect still planned and schemed
On charcoal sketches by polluted streams,
And the two men built a mound of dirt
Like that little Cupid squirt,
But his eyes were crossed
And his wings broken, merely stumps.
The mock-angel had a bow of plastic
And an arrow that was aluminum foil
From a meal less than fantastic
That the patrons of some restaurant had
Thrown Away
Onto the wretched, trash-strewn soil.
When it was finished, Moe died
Of a broken heart
Vessel and no one cried
Except the cupid and the architect. In the
Rainstorm of tears
The cupid was torn apart
And became the
Debris and a pile of mud
That it always was.
And the architect,
His plan a wreck,
Went back to sleep
Never to build or dream or fly or sing
Again
Sleeping on the dissipated ruins of
Cupid’s wing.
And then in sleep another nightmare of futures hence
Caused the god to bolt upright and at once commence
In crafting a wondrous beauty like the world had never seen
Ignoring verisimilitudes of a reality too mean.
An Answer
Haven't done that in quite some time. I just read Andy's post and got inspired. I should really stop, though. I mean, really. But at least this one got me thinking (And when I start thinking, it takes me awhile, so you might want to skip to the last paragraph which holds the more pertinent information, if that could be applied to anything I ever spit onto this thing. I've considered deleting the entire thing, but you're all responsible adults and can decide what's sheer nonsense (most of it) and how you use your time.)
"Inadequate." It sums up quite a bit. Reaching for the stars, only to be a few feet short and fall eons back to earth every time. Any accomplishments we may achieve, any virtues we may have, any positives we may believe are all tossed aside, taken for granted. It's only the negatives that matter, for those are the problems that must be addressed. Focusing on positives doesn't lead to self improvement. Only negatives.
And yet, no matter how hard you try to improve, no matter the goal, no matter the vision, it's not enough. Perhaps it's because you're focusing on the negatives and wouldn't notice if you did obtain what you sought. Perhaps it's because the goal changes as soon as you've accomplished the former goal, making triump impossible. Or perhaps all your efforts prove inadequate.
I suppose I write this drivel because I think some of these things out to be expressed. I don't know why, they've all been shown a countless number of times, all better, all more effective, but I still do. Perhaps it's an attempt to get them out of my system. Or it could be that ultimate goal of creating something "beautiful." Something that surpasses everything else. Something that you've created, look at, and say "That'll do."
It is good. Perfect? No. But good. It accomplishes what you set out to do in an adequate way. Adequate seems to imply the bare minimum. But it actually means satisfactory. And that is one of the highest bars you can set. Thus you have artists. Some "art" because they are "talented" and are able to. Some "art" because they enjoy it. Some "art" to make money, become famous, become renowned. And some "art" because they're searching for something. Trying to achieve something. And all their flops in between almost pain them with their inadequacy.
The dream alone is not enough. A dream of utter beauty. The very idea alone cannot suffice. Why? Perhaps because we don't really know what it is. It's an idea. A formless, vague idea. We can't summon up emotions and feelings at will. We can't all magically be happy or feel awestruck by beauty all time. Maybe we don't want to. It sounds easy enough, just put a positive spin on everything. But we have to have reasons. A reason for happiness. A reason for sadness. A reason for bliss, for ecstasy. Something uncontrollable inside us must be satiated, turned on, lit up, energized, sparked. It must be inspired.
So why do we bother trying to form beauty in reality? Why not search and philosophize and dream until we know what true beauty, true happiness, true rapture is? Then, after we know, we can go about trying to create it in "reality." Heck, why even bother with reality? Why not be satisfied with the dream and just conjure up the image whenever we want to be stricked with the desired emotions?
Well, some people may be able to accomplish this. I seem to fail. I can't fathom perfection, probably because apathy and nihilism block my view. So I suppose I write, trying to hope that that unconquered subconscious of mine will provide it for me. Thus I write and at the time it doesn't feel so bad and I go off into an escape or whatever, content that I've created something adequate. But it's not. I look back the next day, the next week, the next year and see how truly pathetic and inept it is. "Poetry" especially. I haven't created a single thing I can look back on and say "I liked that" and have it suffice. It's not because the very vast majority is depressing, either. It's because it's jumpy. Incomplete. It doesn't have a solid center, a flow. It isn't beautiful, it isn't nice. It isn't "good." The same thing unfortunately plagues Perse. I write that because the majority of it is a comedy. It's zany, all over the place, taking all comers. Even the semi-down parts pick back up into a tone that is more irreverent than anything. But I look back and it's incomplete. It doesn't flow, there's no central uniting force. Perhaps because I don't have a plan, I just run with it. Or it's more likely a lack of ability on my part. But I plod on. All of it, inadequate.
Maybe that's why we pursue love. We seek to obtain beauty. It is not enough to merely see it. To interact with it. To dream of it. No, we must own it. It must be ours and ours alone. And once we've obtained it, met the object of our affection's approval, we become adequate. We have been judged by wondrous beauty to be worthwhile, to be satisfactory. And that's all we need.
You could still create art to celebrate your triumph. But you're no longer seeking adequacy. You have obtained it. All previous attempts were a search, a dangerous expedition in a futile attempt to conquer the untamed wilds of reality, of the human experience. What more could you ask for than to be judged worthy by something you so admire and cherish?
You know, I think I like this Romantic stuff better than nihilism. At least Romantics have a chance to succeed.
HAHAHAHAHA Good ole pessimistic silliness. The best thing about all that drivel above is that once I've written it, I look at it, feel ashamed, and hide in degrading optimism. It's all silliness, just forget about it, denounce it, and you won't have to feel so wrong. So foolish.
Alright, now that that's thoroughly out of my system, I can get on to business. I suppose I'll create that drama-ish spinoff that looks more to be a philosophical romp with Lucifer and company sometime soon. It sounds like fun and I'll get to play with the characters some, hopefully. For those who aren't reading Perse, I'd encourage you to do it. The fact that you still bother to come here and read any of this tripe bewilders me to no end. I keep thinking you'd have run away in disgust and terror, but you keep on coming back apparently. Well, although most of the stuff in this blog is flat out wrong, terrible, and negative, Perse is crazy and irreverent. It's fun, too, and although it's not terribly well-written, it's certainly a better alternative than this blog. So head on over to Successfullyfailing and read through the archives. If you read this, you've obviously got too much time, are bored, or something. Can't be good, at any rate. But I can definitively say, Perse is better than this. Tonewise, if anything. Or, at the very very least, join www.abnerdoubleday.blogspot.com and put up what you didn't do today. You'll be glad you didn't.
"Inadequate." It sums up quite a bit. Reaching for the stars, only to be a few feet short and fall eons back to earth every time. Any accomplishments we may achieve, any virtues we may have, any positives we may believe are all tossed aside, taken for granted. It's only the negatives that matter, for those are the problems that must be addressed. Focusing on positives doesn't lead to self improvement. Only negatives.
And yet, no matter how hard you try to improve, no matter the goal, no matter the vision, it's not enough. Perhaps it's because you're focusing on the negatives and wouldn't notice if you did obtain what you sought. Perhaps it's because the goal changes as soon as you've accomplished the former goal, making triump impossible. Or perhaps all your efforts prove inadequate.
I suppose I write this drivel because I think some of these things out to be expressed. I don't know why, they've all been shown a countless number of times, all better, all more effective, but I still do. Perhaps it's an attempt to get them out of my system. Or it could be that ultimate goal of creating something "beautiful." Something that surpasses everything else. Something that you've created, look at, and say "That'll do."
It is good. Perfect? No. But good. It accomplishes what you set out to do in an adequate way. Adequate seems to imply the bare minimum. But it actually means satisfactory. And that is one of the highest bars you can set. Thus you have artists. Some "art" because they are "talented" and are able to. Some "art" because they enjoy it. Some "art" to make money, become famous, become renowned. And some "art" because they're searching for something. Trying to achieve something. And all their flops in between almost pain them with their inadequacy.
The dream alone is not enough. A dream of utter beauty. The very idea alone cannot suffice. Why? Perhaps because we don't really know what it is. It's an idea. A formless, vague idea. We can't summon up emotions and feelings at will. We can't all magically be happy or feel awestruck by beauty all time. Maybe we don't want to. It sounds easy enough, just put a positive spin on everything. But we have to have reasons. A reason for happiness. A reason for sadness. A reason for bliss, for ecstasy. Something uncontrollable inside us must be satiated, turned on, lit up, energized, sparked. It must be inspired.
So why do we bother trying to form beauty in reality? Why not search and philosophize and dream until we know what true beauty, true happiness, true rapture is? Then, after we know, we can go about trying to create it in "reality." Heck, why even bother with reality? Why not be satisfied with the dream and just conjure up the image whenever we want to be stricked with the desired emotions?
Well, some people may be able to accomplish this. I seem to fail. I can't fathom perfection, probably because apathy and nihilism block my view. So I suppose I write, trying to hope that that unconquered subconscious of mine will provide it for me. Thus I write and at the time it doesn't feel so bad and I go off into an escape or whatever, content that I've created something adequate. But it's not. I look back the next day, the next week, the next year and see how truly pathetic and inept it is. "Poetry" especially. I haven't created a single thing I can look back on and say "I liked that" and have it suffice. It's not because the very vast majority is depressing, either. It's because it's jumpy. Incomplete. It doesn't have a solid center, a flow. It isn't beautiful, it isn't nice. It isn't "good." The same thing unfortunately plagues Perse. I write that because the majority of it is a comedy. It's zany, all over the place, taking all comers. Even the semi-down parts pick back up into a tone that is more irreverent than anything. But I look back and it's incomplete. It doesn't flow, there's no central uniting force. Perhaps because I don't have a plan, I just run with it. Or it's more likely a lack of ability on my part. But I plod on. All of it, inadequate.
Maybe that's why we pursue love. We seek to obtain beauty. It is not enough to merely see it. To interact with it. To dream of it. No, we must own it. It must be ours and ours alone. And once we've obtained it, met the object of our affection's approval, we become adequate. We have been judged by wondrous beauty to be worthwhile, to be satisfactory. And that's all we need.
You could still create art to celebrate your triumph. But you're no longer seeking adequacy. You have obtained it. All previous attempts were a search, a dangerous expedition in a futile attempt to conquer the untamed wilds of reality, of the human experience. What more could you ask for than to be judged worthy by something you so admire and cherish?
You know, I think I like this Romantic stuff better than nihilism. At least Romantics have a chance to succeed.
HAHAHAHAHA Good ole pessimistic silliness. The best thing about all that drivel above is that once I've written it, I look at it, feel ashamed, and hide in degrading optimism. It's all silliness, just forget about it, denounce it, and you won't have to feel so wrong. So foolish.
Alright, now that that's thoroughly out of my system, I can get on to business. I suppose I'll create that drama-ish spinoff that looks more to be a philosophical romp with Lucifer and company sometime soon. It sounds like fun and I'll get to play with the characters some, hopefully. For those who aren't reading Perse, I'd encourage you to do it. The fact that you still bother to come here and read any of this tripe bewilders me to no end. I keep thinking you'd have run away in disgust and terror, but you keep on coming back apparently. Well, although most of the stuff in this blog is flat out wrong, terrible, and negative, Perse is crazy and irreverent. It's fun, too, and although it's not terribly well-written, it's certainly a better alternative than this blog. So head on over to Successfullyfailing and read through the archives. If you read this, you've obviously got too much time, are bored, or something. Can't be good, at any rate. But I can definitively say, Perse is better than this. Tonewise, if anything. Or, at the very very least, join www.abnerdoubleday.blogspot.com and put up what you didn't do today. You'll be glad you didn't.