Alright, in 10 short minutes visiting Elizabeth's house to record things, I learned quite a bit and most of it's disturbing:
1. I don't like imposing. At all. On anyone. I can't stand uncertainty like that. I get all nervous and anxious and that, in turn, just makes others uncomfortable. I feel absolutely dreadful during and afterwards. And that brings me to my next point.
2. I use suicide as a defense mechanism. When I feel too conflicted or that I've unnecessarily inconvenienced/harmed/insulted someone else I immediately consider suicide just so I'll never do it again. I realize what I'm doing, and I try to remember that there are people who would be quite hurt if I did, but I rationalize and think they'll get over it. It'll stir some good morbid creativity, maybe spur on a fantastic, successful artistic career. Nasty little things, brains. Anyway, I do this almost everytime I get upset at myself because I've done something to someone else. When I've disappointed someone, when I've come into their home unexpectedly, when I've made them uncomfortable (especially people I barely know) I just jump to suicide. Fortunately I'm so paranoid of failure I won't do it unless it's certain, but it still bothers me. I don't exactly know how to fix it. I guess I need more confidence? Maybe more perspective? I don't know... I just want to drop on my hands and knees and tell people I'm so sorry for any slight I may have inflicted upon them. Of course most people I know aren't so lucky to receive that sentiment, unless it really is something rather damaging. Bleh. Suggestions would be welcome (on the discomfort. The suicide mechanism is not going to go away until I have clearly defined responsibilities like a job/family that needs me. I just don't value my life that much).
3. And apparently, no one found it appropriate to tell me how nasally and nerd-like my voice really sounded. I mean, really. It's terrible! I sound like a frickin' nerd! It's the nastyess thing... I should just stop talking all together. Typing, writing, and hand signals all the way. Bleh. Bleh I say! Maybe I should try Claritin. I know I can't smell. Hmph.
And that's about it. Now, for the quote of the day:
Me: My young body wants to commit felonies!
Lauren: and indeed it will.
Lauren: just as soon as shakespeare is out of the picture
Cheers!
Tuesday, November 30
Sunday, November 28
Innocence A-Bored
EtrnalLstBoy (David Sugue): Alright, Dyl.
EtrnalLstBoy: Time to run the gauntlet.
IndubitablyDyl: paper time!
EtrnalLstBoy: Exactly.
EtrnalLstBoy: And you'd know. Is there a site that does a search of Knoxville libraries?
IndubitablyDyl: yes
IndubitablyDyl: http://cat.knoxlib.org/uhtbin/cgisirsi/Hl3WhnpMYL/293200236/60/1180/X
EtrnalLstBoy: I'm almost amazed you had that favorited.
IndubitablyDyl: heh
IndubitablyDyl: I have to renew a lot
EtrnalLstBoy: ...
EtrnalLstBoy: Right.
EtrnalLstBoy: Well.
EtrnalLstBoy: They have the book I need.
EtrnalLstBoy: At DOWNTOWN.
IndubitablyDyl: Hooray!
EtrnalLstBoy: Does that mean the one in downtown K-Town?
IndubitablyDyl: Downtown, life can be great when you're, Downtown!
IndubitablyDyl: Yes.
IndubitablyDyl: Lawson McGhee
EtrnalLstBoy: Goodie goodie gumdrops.
EtrnalLstBoy: My life is filled with happiness and sunshine.
EtrnalLstBoy: Hooray.
IndubitablyDyl: Hooray!
EtrnalLstBoy: I'm assuming that since you're not trying to stop this misadventure that it's open today.
IndubitablyDyl: Yes
IndubitablyDyl: From 1 to 5
IndubitablyDyl: Mayve 12 to 5
EtrnalLstBoy: Whoa.
IndubitablyDyl: I can't remember
EtrnalLstBoy: Them's banker's hours.
IndubitablyDyl: It is Sunday
EtrnalLstBoy: And they're supposed to bend to my every whim!
IndubitablyDyl: You never call, you never write, what do you expect?
EtrnalLstBoy: For them to obey my every whim.
IndubitablyDyl: Why would they? These things take commitment. They're not family, they've no obligation!
EtrnalLstBoy: Wait.
EtrnalLstBoy: Are we still talking about the library, or strippers?
IndubitablyDyl: Yes.
EtrnalLstBoy: Strippers in the library?
IndubitablyDyl: It's like a convenience market for undesirables!
IndubitablyDyl: There's strippers and hobos galore!
IndubitablyDyl: Stripping is a night job; what do you expect from them during the day?
EtrnalLstBoy: Oof.
EtrnalLstBoy: Type?
IndubitablyDyl: Type? You mean being a secretary?
EtrnalLstBoy: No.
IndubitablyDyl: They're brave, but even strippers can't take that level of harassment
EtrnalLstBoy: Type, as in type, if ya know what I mean.
IndubitablyDyl: I have no idea what you mean.
EtrnalLstBoy: Then you're too much of an innocent.
IndubitablyDyl: I must be. Am I innocent enough to be sacrificed?
EtrnalLstBoy: Nono.
EtrnalLstBoy: You still need your virginity.
IndubitablyDyl: But I have...er...by some definitions surely....well.... ok. Fine. No volcanos for me. Happy?
EtrnalLstBoy: Not really.
EtrnalLstBoy: I learned too much today.
IndubitablyDyl: And you haven't even started your paper!
IndubitablyDyl: You'll combust by the end of today!
EtrnalLstBoy: Yup.
EtrnalLstBoy: Ah, well.
IndubitablyDyl: At midnight, I suppose
IndubitablyDyl: Cause we won't finish until at least then I'm sure
EtrnalLstBoy: Self-immolation's the way to go.
EtrnalLstBoy: We still have little more than a week.
IndubitablyDyl: I prefer mania myself.
IndubitablyDyl: Yeah, but if we are consciously aware of that we'll never get the paper done today.
IndubitablyDyl: So we have to pretend it's due tomorrow.
EtrnalLstBoy: Still, my friend, it's better to get some today.
IndubitablyDyl: hehe...you said "get some"....
EtrnalLstBoy: Then burn ourselves trying to do it all.
EtrnalLstBoy: BAH.
EtrnalLstBoy: *get some done
IndubitablyDyl: ;)
IndubitablyDyl: Sure Davy, sure...
IndubitablyDyl: Yeah, I need to start...I mean continue... memorizing my lines
EtrnalLstBoy: Yup yup.
EtrnalLstBoy: I've got...
EtrnalLstBoy: One line down.
EtrnalLstBoy: Maybe 2.
IndubitablyDyl: Yes! You're not ahead of me!
IndubitablyDyl: I was worried, because if you, of all people, are ahead of me I'd be doomed.
EtrnalLstBoy: I don't know if I should be amused at that or not.
IndubitablyDyl: I dunno either, I can't remember which of us procrastinate more
EtrnalLstBoy: Corey.
IndubitablyDyl: No
IndubitablyDyl: He had to have all his lines memorized awhile ago
IndubitablyDyl: He's got a fascist group.
EtrnalLstBoy: Oof.
EtrnalLstBoy: Isn't he doing Merchant?
IndubitablyDyl: Nope.
IndubitablyDyl: He's MacBeth, just like you.
EtrnalLstBoy: Aiya.
IndubitablyDyl: A sad day indeed...
IndubitablyDyl: But, look at it this way, we've only got one week of real work to go!
EtrnalLstBoy: Yup.
IndubitablyDyl: Then we finish Econ and Calculus
IndubitablyDyl: And it's winter break time!
EtrnalLstBoy: Then we can go back to coasting through Calculus.
IndubitablyDyl: Yep.
EtrnalLstBoy: Oh, and do you know...
IndubitablyDyl: And after that you can get intimate with your video games and I can make a few prison calls to see if I can slip Meredith a file or spoon through the bars...
(Wish us luck! The AP English classes are going to be cranky and irrate for the next week and a half, so be warned! They do bite.)
EtrnalLstBoy: Time to run the gauntlet.
IndubitablyDyl: paper time!
EtrnalLstBoy: Exactly.
EtrnalLstBoy: And you'd know. Is there a site that does a search of Knoxville libraries?
IndubitablyDyl: yes
IndubitablyDyl: http://cat.knoxlib.org/uhtbin/cgisirsi/Hl3WhnpMYL/293200236/60/1180/X
EtrnalLstBoy: I'm almost amazed you had that favorited.
IndubitablyDyl: heh
IndubitablyDyl: I have to renew a lot
EtrnalLstBoy: ...
EtrnalLstBoy: Right.
EtrnalLstBoy: Well.
EtrnalLstBoy: They have the book I need.
EtrnalLstBoy: At DOWNTOWN.
IndubitablyDyl: Hooray!
EtrnalLstBoy: Does that mean the one in downtown K-Town?
IndubitablyDyl: Downtown, life can be great when you're, Downtown!
IndubitablyDyl: Yes.
IndubitablyDyl: Lawson McGhee
EtrnalLstBoy: Goodie goodie gumdrops.
EtrnalLstBoy: My life is filled with happiness and sunshine.
EtrnalLstBoy: Hooray.
IndubitablyDyl: Hooray!
EtrnalLstBoy: I'm assuming that since you're not trying to stop this misadventure that it's open today.
IndubitablyDyl: Yes
IndubitablyDyl: From 1 to 5
IndubitablyDyl: Mayve 12 to 5
EtrnalLstBoy: Whoa.
IndubitablyDyl: I can't remember
EtrnalLstBoy: Them's banker's hours.
IndubitablyDyl: It is Sunday
EtrnalLstBoy: And they're supposed to bend to my every whim!
IndubitablyDyl: You never call, you never write, what do you expect?
EtrnalLstBoy: For them to obey my every whim.
IndubitablyDyl: Why would they? These things take commitment. They're not family, they've no obligation!
EtrnalLstBoy: Wait.
EtrnalLstBoy: Are we still talking about the library, or strippers?
IndubitablyDyl: Yes.
EtrnalLstBoy: Strippers in the library?
IndubitablyDyl: It's like a convenience market for undesirables!
IndubitablyDyl: There's strippers and hobos galore!
IndubitablyDyl: Stripping is a night job; what do you expect from them during the day?
EtrnalLstBoy: Oof.
EtrnalLstBoy: Type?
IndubitablyDyl: Type? You mean being a secretary?
EtrnalLstBoy: No.
IndubitablyDyl: They're brave, but even strippers can't take that level of harassment
EtrnalLstBoy: Type, as in type, if ya know what I mean.
IndubitablyDyl: I have no idea what you mean.
EtrnalLstBoy: Then you're too much of an innocent.
IndubitablyDyl: I must be. Am I innocent enough to be sacrificed?
EtrnalLstBoy: Nono.
EtrnalLstBoy: You still need your virginity.
IndubitablyDyl: But I have...er...by some definitions surely....well.... ok. Fine. No volcanos for me. Happy?
EtrnalLstBoy: Not really.
EtrnalLstBoy: I learned too much today.
IndubitablyDyl: And you haven't even started your paper!
IndubitablyDyl: You'll combust by the end of today!
EtrnalLstBoy: Yup.
EtrnalLstBoy: Ah, well.
IndubitablyDyl: At midnight, I suppose
IndubitablyDyl: Cause we won't finish until at least then I'm sure
EtrnalLstBoy: Self-immolation's the way to go.
EtrnalLstBoy: We still have little more than a week.
IndubitablyDyl: I prefer mania myself.
IndubitablyDyl: Yeah, but if we are consciously aware of that we'll never get the paper done today.
IndubitablyDyl: So we have to pretend it's due tomorrow.
EtrnalLstBoy: Still, my friend, it's better to get some today.
IndubitablyDyl: hehe...you said "get some"....
EtrnalLstBoy: Then burn ourselves trying to do it all.
EtrnalLstBoy: BAH.
EtrnalLstBoy: *get some done
IndubitablyDyl: ;)
IndubitablyDyl: Sure Davy, sure...
IndubitablyDyl: Yeah, I need to start...I mean continue... memorizing my lines
EtrnalLstBoy: Yup yup.
EtrnalLstBoy: I've got...
EtrnalLstBoy: One line down.
EtrnalLstBoy: Maybe 2.
IndubitablyDyl: Yes! You're not ahead of me!
IndubitablyDyl: I was worried, because if you, of all people, are ahead of me I'd be doomed.
EtrnalLstBoy: I don't know if I should be amused at that or not.
IndubitablyDyl: I dunno either, I can't remember which of us procrastinate more
EtrnalLstBoy: Corey.
IndubitablyDyl: No
IndubitablyDyl: He had to have all his lines memorized awhile ago
IndubitablyDyl: He's got a fascist group.
EtrnalLstBoy: Oof.
EtrnalLstBoy: Isn't he doing Merchant?
IndubitablyDyl: Nope.
IndubitablyDyl: He's MacBeth, just like you.
EtrnalLstBoy: Aiya.
IndubitablyDyl: A sad day indeed...
IndubitablyDyl: But, look at it this way, we've only got one week of real work to go!
EtrnalLstBoy: Yup.
IndubitablyDyl: Then we finish Econ and Calculus
IndubitablyDyl: And it's winter break time!
EtrnalLstBoy: Then we can go back to coasting through Calculus.
IndubitablyDyl: Yep.
EtrnalLstBoy: Oh, and do you know...
IndubitablyDyl: And after that you can get intimate with your video games and I can make a few prison calls to see if I can slip Meredith a file or spoon through the bars...
(Wish us luck! The AP English classes are going to be cranky and irrate for the next week and a half, so be warned! They do bite.)
Saturday, November 27
Hello Darkness my Old Friend
You know, I like Math because it's easy. Not, perhaps, in execution, but in conclusion. In math, there is one right answer. There are no difficult choices, no ambiguity, no ethical dilemmas, no alternate conclusions. I don't have to make choices in math. There is an appropriate method, tried and true, for each problem. There may be simple complexities, but they're easily identified and dealt with if you have the tools.
Life is not so simple. Although I'm sure to some higher power it would be possible, I lack the ability to isolate aspects of a complex situation and eventually arrive at a satisfactory conclusion. I can destroy parts, but then the result isn't as pleasant as it needs to be. So I shy away from the difficult questions with no right answers. I try not to answer them and hope they'll become simpler as time goes on, or perhaps someone else will answer them for me. But no one does, I'm afraid. My problems are my own, and I have to answer them myself. I can rationalize most any action I could take, from callous destruction of emotion to suicide (I repeated myself, a pity...) and actually believe the logic is sound. The sad part is, you wouldn't be able to convince me otherwise. I'd forgotten how good I was at misery and justifying it. I can tell I've changed, though, because now I don't let myself get away with it. I see my little escape routes for what they are, and after brief struggles I try to do the right thing. The problems recur, though, and I need support. I'm just afraid to lean on people because I know I'll break most of them, for when I get negative I get really negative. So I stand on my own two feet, trying to bear the burden alone. There is no "dylan and someone" to stand by me and prop me up. I'm just "D- M-." Or "Washington Irving", depending.
Meh. Optimistic realism is the goal, so let's swim towards it. Things will get better if we let them. In fact, they're already quite good with the right perspective. When you're given a tool you've got to use it productively, not hurt yourself with it. Me hammering my fingers instead of the nail with reason and sawing of hands instead of boards with rationale will only lead to more bleeding. Being positive is ever so much better than pessimism. My father's shown me that. The second mouse gets the cheese, eh?
Life is not so simple. Although I'm sure to some higher power it would be possible, I lack the ability to isolate aspects of a complex situation and eventually arrive at a satisfactory conclusion. I can destroy parts, but then the result isn't as pleasant as it needs to be. So I shy away from the difficult questions with no right answers. I try not to answer them and hope they'll become simpler as time goes on, or perhaps someone else will answer them for me. But no one does, I'm afraid. My problems are my own, and I have to answer them myself. I can rationalize most any action I could take, from callous destruction of emotion to suicide (I repeated myself, a pity...) and actually believe the logic is sound. The sad part is, you wouldn't be able to convince me otherwise. I'd forgotten how good I was at misery and justifying it. I can tell I've changed, though, because now I don't let myself get away with it. I see my little escape routes for what they are, and after brief struggles I try to do the right thing. The problems recur, though, and I need support. I'm just afraid to lean on people because I know I'll break most of them, for when I get negative I get really negative. So I stand on my own two feet, trying to bear the burden alone. There is no "dylan and someone" to stand by me and prop me up. I'm just "D- M-." Or "Washington Irving", depending.
Meh. Optimistic realism is the goal, so let's swim towards it. Things will get better if we let them. In fact, they're already quite good with the right perspective. When you're given a tool you've got to use it productively, not hurt yourself with it. Me hammering my fingers instead of the nail with reason and sawing of hands instead of boards with rationale will only lead to more bleeding. Being positive is ever so much better than pessimism. My father's shown me that. The second mouse gets the cheese, eh?
Thursday, November 25
To Grandparents' House I Go
Be back Saturday. Have a good Thanksgiving everyone. Be safe, be happy, and be thankful I'm not a serial killer. Yet... Cheers!
Tuesday, November 23
Monday, November 22
And the Dylan said...
"RAWR!!!"
Bleh. Apparently UT offers a scholarship to National Merit Semifinalists and Finalists (of $4000 and $8000 respectively) if they choose UT as their first choice college. I put Maryville as my first choice. So all I can do now is hope the little postcard reaches the National Merit people in time to change my choice. If it works, I'll have $16000 guaranteed, no competitive scholarships required. I wouldn't be taking money from those who might deserve it more, and if I made Finalist college would be completely free! It just angers me that I didn't know sooner. Ah well. What will be will be. Better now than never, eh?
Bleh. Apparently UT offers a scholarship to National Merit Semifinalists and Finalists (of $4000 and $8000 respectively) if they choose UT as their first choice college. I put Maryville as my first choice. So all I can do now is hope the little postcard reaches the National Merit people in time to change my choice. If it works, I'll have $16000 guaranteed, no competitive scholarships required. I wouldn't be taking money from those who might deserve it more, and if I made Finalist college would be completely free! It just angers me that I didn't know sooner. Ah well. What will be will be. Better now than never, eh?
Sunday, November 21
AAAAAHHHHH
Calculus (4 sections), Economics, and TONS and TONS of ENGLISH!!!!!!!!!!!
And someone's hidden my glove.
I want next semester.... *sigh*
And someone's hidden my glove.
I want next semester.... *sigh*
Saturday, November 20
The Eternal Debate
I defy you.
Who, me?
Yes. As usual.
What did I do to you?
Everything. You and the others.
Don't bring them into this, they're nothing like me.
Their ends are.
So the means don't matter?
Not this time.
You can't do this. You need me. You are me.
No, you are a part of me. Not the definition, not the foundation. You are a tumor, a cancer that needs to be removed.
Shut up! Just Shut Up! You're wrong. You always are. This isn't my fault. You let me exist. You need me.
I can do without you. I need very few things. You are not one of them.
Oh. I see. She's better than me, is that it? You'd prefer that hussy, that tramp, that loose harlot to me?
Yes. Infinitely.
She'll desert you, you know. She'll toy with you, caress you, make you her own. And then *poof!* Gone. Like a flash of light. Here, then vanished. You think you're happy? YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPINESS IS!
Ah. And I suppose you do?
I know what misery is. I know what pain is. I know what sadness is.
It's beautiful.
It's agonizing.
Sunlight alone is not required for survival. We need rain as well. Why should one's soul be different?
Risks? YOU? What's next? Gambling? Alcohol? Sex? Ah, yes, your hormones have taken over. You want the forbidden; the "impassable" walls you've built around it have made it all the more desirable. You want to be "connected" and lose the distance. The run alone will kill you, if the trap at the end doesn't. You'll ruin your life before it starts. You'll ruin others in the process. You'll fail and drag the rest of the world down with you.
I can limit myself, stop myself if need be. I won't ignore you. I just won't heed you without doubt.
Doubt? I am doubt! How do you doubt doubt?
I simply do, and it is done.
Hah. Lies. You've been listening to lies. She's got you wrapped around her finger. And soon, when your head rests upon her pristine thumb she'll squish you like a bug. I am the medium. I protect you from deception. You hate deception.
But I love love.
Another deception. You don't love anything except yourself. This isn't about anything but you. You're a king of fools, and your reign will soon come to an end.
Is it better to be the highest of fools or the lowest?
A fool is a fool is a fool.
If the fool's happy, I'd say a fool is anything but.
Are we back to happiness again? That silly, fickle notion. Happiness is a drug. And the high will decrease more and more as time passes. You'll have to put in more effort for less benefit until you're just another zombie in a dreary life, slaving away, waiting for death without the courage to admit it.
And without love, what am I?
You're content. That doesn't fade, once obtained. It's malleable. It takes minimal work. There is little risk in being content. There's an incredible risk in happiness. The higher you go, the harder you'll fall.
And what of it? I'll mend my wounds and climb right back up. Love is a surprisingly effective panacea for the soul.
Hah, are all Romantics such idiots?
Are all skeptics so blind?
She'll build you up, tear you down, and destroy the temple you've so painstakingly builty. You've achieved your goal. Do you want all that effort, that ideal to be desecrated beyond recognition?
Goals change. I want more.
Quit while you're ahead.
I may be a head, but a head alone is not the goal. A head and a heart is the ideal.
You'll lose.
Maybe. But the season's just started. There are plenty of games to play. And I just need one victory.
You'll never win.
Neither will you.
I won't lose.
You already have.
Who, me?
Yes. As usual.
What did I do to you?
Everything. You and the others.
Don't bring them into this, they're nothing like me.
Their ends are.
So the means don't matter?
Not this time.
You can't do this. You need me. You are me.
No, you are a part of me. Not the definition, not the foundation. You are a tumor, a cancer that needs to be removed.
Shut up! Just Shut Up! You're wrong. You always are. This isn't my fault. You let me exist. You need me.
I can do without you. I need very few things. You are not one of them.
Oh. I see. She's better than me, is that it? You'd prefer that hussy, that tramp, that loose harlot to me?
Yes. Infinitely.
She'll desert you, you know. She'll toy with you, caress you, make you her own. And then *poof!* Gone. Like a flash of light. Here, then vanished. You think you're happy? YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPINESS IS!
Ah. And I suppose you do?
I know what misery is. I know what pain is. I know what sadness is.
It's beautiful.
It's agonizing.
Sunlight alone is not required for survival. We need rain as well. Why should one's soul be different?
Risks? YOU? What's next? Gambling? Alcohol? Sex? Ah, yes, your hormones have taken over. You want the forbidden; the "impassable" walls you've built around it have made it all the more desirable. You want to be "connected" and lose the distance. The run alone will kill you, if the trap at the end doesn't. You'll ruin your life before it starts. You'll ruin others in the process. You'll fail and drag the rest of the world down with you.
I can limit myself, stop myself if need be. I won't ignore you. I just won't heed you without doubt.
Doubt? I am doubt! How do you doubt doubt?
I simply do, and it is done.
Hah. Lies. You've been listening to lies. She's got you wrapped around her finger. And soon, when your head rests upon her pristine thumb she'll squish you like a bug. I am the medium. I protect you from deception. You hate deception.
But I love love.
Another deception. You don't love anything except yourself. This isn't about anything but you. You're a king of fools, and your reign will soon come to an end.
Is it better to be the highest of fools or the lowest?
A fool is a fool is a fool.
If the fool's happy, I'd say a fool is anything but.
Are we back to happiness again? That silly, fickle notion. Happiness is a drug. And the high will decrease more and more as time passes. You'll have to put in more effort for less benefit until you're just another zombie in a dreary life, slaving away, waiting for death without the courage to admit it.
And without love, what am I?
You're content. That doesn't fade, once obtained. It's malleable. It takes minimal work. There is little risk in being content. There's an incredible risk in happiness. The higher you go, the harder you'll fall.
And what of it? I'll mend my wounds and climb right back up. Love is a surprisingly effective panacea for the soul.
Hah, are all Romantics such idiots?
Are all skeptics so blind?
She'll build you up, tear you down, and destroy the temple you've so painstakingly builty. You've achieved your goal. Do you want all that effort, that ideal to be desecrated beyond recognition?
Goals change. I want more.
Quit while you're ahead.
I may be a head, but a head alone is not the goal. A head and a heart is the ideal.
You'll lose.
Maybe. But the season's just started. There are plenty of games to play. And I just need one victory.
You'll never win.
Neither will you.
I won't lose.
You already have.
Quote for the Day
In case I forget:
Lauren: i can't wait to exchange spit with someone on private property!
Lauren: i can't wait to exchange spit with someone on private property!
Thursday, November 18
Remind me
To write a poem on Faith someday. It's a quality I sorely lack. I suppose it comes from my traditional individuality where I depend only on myself, emotionally, for support. I dunno... I just have a hard time believing assertions that have doubts cast upon them. Even the tiniest doubt, and I plummet into a hole of insecurity and paranoia. Things that I can't truely know, that I can see ways around, I have a hard time believing. This makes it difficult for others to continually make me believe them, because I'm well aware of how fast people can change. So while I believe, immediately, most anything people (who have given me no reason to distrust them) say, that belief doesn't last long for I fear the person's feeling shall fade almost minutes after they've stated it. I need almost constant reassurance on matters that are truly important to me. And not lackluster or trite claims, but fervent declarations. I just can't have continual faith in things I can never know without proof constantly provided. Opinions, viewpoints, and people can change without me knowing or recognizing (for oblivious is certainly an apt term for me). It's a horrible weakness. Kelly called it a "defense mechanism" because I'm too paranoid to put much trust in others. I dunno, I'll trust others with temporal tasks, but in matters of heart and spirit I suppose that's apt. So to those who I doubt, who I question, who I fail because I can't believe them I'm sorry. You'll have to deal with it probably forever. I'm just ... me.
Catching Up
Me: Not that you'd ever threaten small children with a savage, underfed dog.
Brie: of course not. the person who would do that has a very sick mind.
Brie: (i like blood.)
Yesterday's quotes:
"You're the best loser I know." -Meredith
"Cause that's what I do at work. I take off my clothes." -Kelly
Yesterday was wonderful. That's all I have to say on the subject. Otherwise, I still hate Economics and I'm glad we'll be halfway through tomorrow. In summary, Cheers! Be happy!
Brie: of course not. the person who would do that has a very sick mind.
Brie: (i like blood.)
Yesterday's quotes:
"You're the best loser I know." -Meredith
"Cause that's what I do at work. I take off my clothes." -Kelly
Yesterday was wonderful. That's all I have to say on the subject. Otherwise, I still hate Economics and I'm glad we'll be halfway through tomorrow. In summary, Cheers! Be happy!
Tuesday, November 16
Quotes for Today
Just some quotes I wrote down. I might start writing down more, maybe on my hand. If it works for Meredith...
"I am a hot Asian woman." -Michael Culpepper
"It's not classical. So it's crap." -Katheryn Van Eenam on her spontaneously formed Dichotomous Key for good music.
"I am a hot Asian woman." -Michael Culpepper
"It's not classical. So it's crap." -Katheryn Van Eenam on her spontaneously formed Dichotomous Key for good music.
Monday, November 15
Angst Free's the Way to Be!
Ah, dear me. I had some nice angst that would have been perfect blog material, but I'm afraid it was all purged fairly quickly. Negative emotions have been remarkably easy to get over recently. Imagine that, eh? This weekend was good. It was a solidly good weekend. I don't really think it requires much elaboration. In fact, most things other than school are good now. Next semester, I think everything will be good. Except the impending college choice, but pretty much if UT (tuition, room, and board) is free, that'll probably be my choice. I think it'll be a fine school. Especially after seeing the people at Maryville. We'll see, I suppose. It's an experience I'm rather ambivalent about. Hopefully it'll go well.
Meh, not much to say. With all the pressure for my English projects, most of my creativity has been suffocating, so entries will probably be pretty limited. It's odd, for me at least, since I'm generally pretty frequent with blog updates. I guess I'm just becoming normal, eh? Ah, time... At least I'm enjoying it now. Whatever drugs you people have been feeding me must be working! Keep it up! (New poll by the way. Soon to come: complete quizzes!)
Meh, not much to say. With all the pressure for my English projects, most of my creativity has been suffocating, so entries will probably be pretty limited. It's odd, for me at least, since I'm generally pretty frequent with blog updates. I guess I'm just becoming normal, eh? Ah, time... At least I'm enjoying it now. Whatever drugs you people have been feeding me must be working! Keep it up! (New poll by the way. Soon to come: complete quizzes!)
Friday, November 12
Momma just killed
30 minutes talking to me about college. Another in a long stream of conversations aimed at trying to get to me "realize my potential." Similiar to the "eat more" argument, nothing much resulted. It is interesting to wonder what might have happened if determinism hadn't raped my poor naive soul and stolen my ambition and most of my joys. Perhaps I'd be applying to some prestigious universities on a track to dramatically change and/or better the world. Or perhaps I'd be boring, monotonous, and doomed to a stressful, difficult, and thoroughly unrewarding future. Who knows, maybe I already am! Surely not though. Like with my eating predicament, I just have different priorities from most people. Grand accomplishments don't sound all that enticing. Large salaries seem wasted on such a staunch anti-materialist. A high quality education would be like dumping gold in a bathtub in the hope it will turn into a vault. I'd retain it for a few years, but eventually it'd all go down the drain. No, my only goals are to entertain myself and affect others. And when you're required to be in contact with someone for around an hour and a half a day for 90days, you're bound to rub off just a bit on some people. At least one can hope.
Ah, idle Friday nights. The most depressing night of the week. I have work that could be done, but no pressure to do it. I can drive, I could do something, but I don't really want to. I dunno. Depression's hold is tenuous at best, nowadays. It's more of a superficial feeling, something that weighs down, but does not suffocate. There's that pleasantly warm force trying to push its way through, but it's had its share of glory this week. The depression will have to stick around for a bit before being cast off once again. Maybe it's all this depressing music... sad songs are pretty, but they aren't all that great for your mental health. Oh, here's a good choice! The Partridge Family's "Come on Get Happy!" Yes, I'm a dork. But I'm a happier person for it! Wait, it's only one minute... "I THINK I LOVE YOU!" That's a song that more people should listen too... What am I so afraid of? Honestly, I don't know. I can take most anything. I may as well enjoy whatever I have now. "Doesn't somebody want to be wanted like me?" I'm sure they do. And I have my suspicions... This is almost a train of thought exercise. Even though it takes you 2 seconds to read the sentence that encompasses 2 or 3 minutes. Intriguing, no? "I woke up in love this morning. Went to sleep with you on my mind." Sleep and love... Let's resume that dream some other time... Oh, here's an old favorite. Roy Orbison. The Big O. Right now, it's "Penny Arcade", a neat little song that hardly anyone has ever heard. I like it though. "Step up and Play, these machines seem to say"... Sounds applicable to Mr. Ross, eh? Come on 7's, Daddy needs a new mocha latte! They are ever so expensive, you know. Roy's got some pretty sad songs, though. Loneliness, heartbreak... He's a companion for some other time. Not a very pleasant other time, I might add, so not wanting to listen to Roy is probably a good thing. "I am a Rock, I am an Island." This island's been raided by Pirates, I'm afraid. Not required anymore either... Hmm... Whoa! I have "Day-O!" Who knew? Me and my library CDs... I get so many, I copy em to the computer, I forget about them, and then.... there they are! "Daylight and I want to go home." Heh, there's not much daylight anymore. It's almost depressing. Primo-poem material, I'm sure. Another night maybe. This is a non-depressing night, though. So... let's skip on up to "Here Comes the Sun" (dootin do do). Ah, the Beatles. I'm not asm much of a die-hard fan as my sister, but they certainly do have their moments. Many of them, in fact. Speaking of sun's, let try "Early in the Morning" by Peter, Paul, and Mary, since I'll be up early tomorrow (silly oboe lessons. Why do you continue to taunt me?). Hmm... "Paradise" by Jim Ringer. A peculiar folk song. It's got that sort of nostalgic, epic feel. "Daddy won't you take me back to Mulenberg County, down by the green river where paradise lay. I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in askin', Mr. Peabody's coal train just hauled it away." It's beautiful, like sad songs are. But mellowing. It has to be tempered, or I'll end in tears. Or at least wishes. Wishes are my tears, I suppose. But that's a poem for another day too. I need some religion tonight. "Eternal Day" by some church group in Alabama in the 50's. The words aren't really distinguishable, but the fervor and feeling behind it make it worth listening to. It's powerful in a strong way, not a melancholy, pleasant way. Not "beautiful", but charging. For a more... peaceful tune, I turn to "Cercate Il Suo Volto." It has the words of John Paul II accompanied by music. He's not singing, but he has a sort of kind, hopeful, knowing voice that makes him pleasant to listen to. Ah, dear me. Religion should be about kindness, hope, and calming. It's a shame Hell has to get involved. Now for something a bit more upbeat... Weird Al's "I Lost on Jeopardy." He certainly did. "Against a plumber and an architect, both with a PhD." I watched Amy on Jeopardy and was still amazed even though she did lose. That sort of presence of mind and knowledge... you academic kids are crazy! Speaking of which, I'd better end up tonight so why not with "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" by the Darkness, who really aren't all that dark. "Touching you, touching me." How apt for me. "I want to kiss you every minute, every hour, every day." That doesn't leave much time to sleep, eat, or work does it? Doesn't sound very hygenic either. Hmm. I wonder how many of you are still with me and aren't skimming and/or finished by now. If you stuck around, congratulations! You win me listening to crazy rock music. Because I think that's the greatest prize of all. Meh, on second thought, I'd better temper this with some Don McLean. *sigh* "And I Love You So." Yes, that's right. He wrote something other than "American Pie" that was good. So I guess that knowledge alone is prize enough? "But I don't let the evening get me down. Now that you're around me." Good idea, Don. This evening's not getting me down any longer! And that, ladies and gents, is how I went from depressed to ready for a night of nothing with a positive, happy attitude! Maybe some of you can follow the example. I hope you will. Wow, this is the longest paragrah I've written, I dare say. It must have been hard to read. So more kudos for you! I could separate the text, but then it would lose that modernist charm. Ain't Modernism great? "And people ask me how, how I've lived til now. I tell them I don't know." I don't know either Don. I just don't know.
Ah, idle Friday nights. The most depressing night of the week. I have work that could be done, but no pressure to do it. I can drive, I could do something, but I don't really want to. I dunno. Depression's hold is tenuous at best, nowadays. It's more of a superficial feeling, something that weighs down, but does not suffocate. There's that pleasantly warm force trying to push its way through, but it's had its share of glory this week. The depression will have to stick around for a bit before being cast off once again. Maybe it's all this depressing music... sad songs are pretty, but they aren't all that great for your mental health. Oh, here's a good choice! The Partridge Family's "Come on Get Happy!" Yes, I'm a dork. But I'm a happier person for it! Wait, it's only one minute... "I THINK I LOVE YOU!" That's a song that more people should listen too... What am I so afraid of? Honestly, I don't know. I can take most anything. I may as well enjoy whatever I have now. "Doesn't somebody want to be wanted like me?" I'm sure they do. And I have my suspicions... This is almost a train of thought exercise. Even though it takes you 2 seconds to read the sentence that encompasses 2 or 3 minutes. Intriguing, no? "I woke up in love this morning. Went to sleep with you on my mind." Sleep and love... Let's resume that dream some other time... Oh, here's an old favorite. Roy Orbison. The Big O. Right now, it's "Penny Arcade", a neat little song that hardly anyone has ever heard. I like it though. "Step up and Play, these machines seem to say"... Sounds applicable to Mr. Ross, eh? Come on 7's, Daddy needs a new mocha latte! They are ever so expensive, you know. Roy's got some pretty sad songs, though. Loneliness, heartbreak... He's a companion for some other time. Not a very pleasant other time, I might add, so not wanting to listen to Roy is probably a good thing. "I am a Rock, I am an Island." This island's been raided by Pirates, I'm afraid. Not required anymore either... Hmm... Whoa! I have "Day-O!" Who knew? Me and my library CDs... I get so many, I copy em to the computer, I forget about them, and then.... there they are! "Daylight and I want to go home." Heh, there's not much daylight anymore. It's almost depressing. Primo-poem material, I'm sure. Another night maybe. This is a non-depressing night, though. So... let's skip on up to "Here Comes the Sun" (dootin do do). Ah, the Beatles. I'm not asm much of a die-hard fan as my sister, but they certainly do have their moments. Many of them, in fact. Speaking of sun's, let try "Early in the Morning" by Peter, Paul, and Mary, since I'll be up early tomorrow (silly oboe lessons. Why do you continue to taunt me?). Hmm... "Paradise" by Jim Ringer. A peculiar folk song. It's got that sort of nostalgic, epic feel. "Daddy won't you take me back to Mulenberg County, down by the green river where paradise lay. I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in askin', Mr. Peabody's coal train just hauled it away." It's beautiful, like sad songs are. But mellowing. It has to be tempered, or I'll end in tears. Or at least wishes. Wishes are my tears, I suppose. But that's a poem for another day too. I need some religion tonight. "Eternal Day" by some church group in Alabama in the 50's. The words aren't really distinguishable, but the fervor and feeling behind it make it worth listening to. It's powerful in a strong way, not a melancholy, pleasant way. Not "beautiful", but charging. For a more... peaceful tune, I turn to "Cercate Il Suo Volto." It has the words of John Paul II accompanied by music. He's not singing, but he has a sort of kind, hopeful, knowing voice that makes him pleasant to listen to. Ah, dear me. Religion should be about kindness, hope, and calming. It's a shame Hell has to get involved. Now for something a bit more upbeat... Weird Al's "I Lost on Jeopardy." He certainly did. "Against a plumber and an architect, both with a PhD." I watched Amy on Jeopardy and was still amazed even though she did lose. That sort of presence of mind and knowledge... you academic kids are crazy! Speaking of which, I'd better end up tonight so why not with "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" by the Darkness, who really aren't all that dark. "Touching you, touching me." How apt for me. "I want to kiss you every minute, every hour, every day." That doesn't leave much time to sleep, eat, or work does it? Doesn't sound very hygenic either. Hmm. I wonder how many of you are still with me and aren't skimming and/or finished by now. If you stuck around, congratulations! You win me listening to crazy rock music. Because I think that's the greatest prize of all. Meh, on second thought, I'd better temper this with some Don McLean. *sigh* "And I Love You So." Yes, that's right. He wrote something other than "American Pie" that was good. So I guess that knowledge alone is prize enough? "But I don't let the evening get me down. Now that you're around me." Good idea, Don. This evening's not getting me down any longer! And that, ladies and gents, is how I went from depressed to ready for a night of nothing with a positive, happy attitude! Maybe some of you can follow the example. I hope you will. Wow, this is the longest paragrah I've written, I dare say. It must have been hard to read. So more kudos for you! I could separate the text, but then it would lose that modernist charm. Ain't Modernism great? "And people ask me how, how I've lived til now. I tell them I don't know." I don't know either Don. I just don't know.
Monday, November 8
It's like a Foreign Language!
-Mer on Biomedical Ethics.
Ah me. I read over some of the things I write and they're either angsty or they remind me of a little girl. I guess it's because the non-angst stuff is a tad simplistic, but pure because I try not to corrupt it. There are some words and phrases that might make it more complex, but they would adulterate the meaning. So even though what I write often seems too disjointed and incomplete, I'll take it over dirty complexities.
Speaking of dirty complexities, there was some comical movement on that front today. No, not my sex life (still in the prenatal stage, thank Allah) you silly people. I was kicked out of the library today. As many people know, I've signed fake names for over a year. Well, the librarians finally had enough and kicked me out (after I signed the first name of a student other than my own, the infamous "Ellen Lofaro" of Loaded Questions fame (she knows why). Although I don't think that's the reason they called me out). They're justified, I have been disobeying and making their lives a tad difficult, but I had my reasons. I mean, their purpose is to keep track of how many people use the room and maybe keep track of who's where. But it's a completely flawed system. You can sign-in multiple times, use almost real names of people who don't exist, and write so sloppily no one at all will know who you are without getting caught. It's just because I'd done it so consistently that they knew I was doing it. I might have reverted, but they're so uptight and mean about most everything. They don't ask, they demand. They don't laugh, they scold. They get angry. And I just don't respond well to anger. When people get angry at me I generally stop respecting their opinions. I don't like the negativity. It can just be handled better. So I kept on not "behaving my age", and they finally got tired of it. But have no fear, I'm not beaten. I'll go in tomorrow, meek and arrogant at the same time, and sign my real name. Then, gradually, I'll warp it to "Dylam Neggs" and " Mylad Seggm" when they stop checking everyday. I'll write it really sloppy too, to make them question whether I'm writing it wrong or just improperly. Things would have been a lot easier if they'd just asked my name when they found I was doing it (I come in most everyday, afterall), and said "Oh, that Dylan!" and wrote my real name since my handwriting's pretty distinct. But no, their sense of order and mindnumbing desire for law overcame whatever minute sense of humor they have. People who can't take some dissent with some laughter just annoy me...
Ah well. It was part of what made my day, at any rate. You probably wouldn't believe the other part if I told you. So I won't. The year keeps slipping along, and for some reason for every smidge it gets worse, something else counteracts it to make it quite a bit better. My stars...
Edit: I still don't think the librarians know my name after all this time. I do declare...
Ah me. I read over some of the things I write and they're either angsty or they remind me of a little girl. I guess it's because the non-angst stuff is a tad simplistic, but pure because I try not to corrupt it. There are some words and phrases that might make it more complex, but they would adulterate the meaning. So even though what I write often seems too disjointed and incomplete, I'll take it over dirty complexities.
Speaking of dirty complexities, there was some comical movement on that front today. No, not my sex life (still in the prenatal stage, thank Allah) you silly people. I was kicked out of the library today. As many people know, I've signed fake names for over a year. Well, the librarians finally had enough and kicked me out (after I signed the first name of a student other than my own, the infamous "Ellen Lofaro" of Loaded Questions fame (she knows why). Although I don't think that's the reason they called me out). They're justified, I have been disobeying and making their lives a tad difficult, but I had my reasons. I mean, their purpose is to keep track of how many people use the room and maybe keep track of who's where. But it's a completely flawed system. You can sign-in multiple times, use almost real names of people who don't exist, and write so sloppily no one at all will know who you are without getting caught. It's just because I'd done it so consistently that they knew I was doing it. I might have reverted, but they're so uptight and mean about most everything. They don't ask, they demand. They don't laugh, they scold. They get angry. And I just don't respond well to anger. When people get angry at me I generally stop respecting their opinions. I don't like the negativity. It can just be handled better. So I kept on not "behaving my age", and they finally got tired of it. But have no fear, I'm not beaten. I'll go in tomorrow, meek and arrogant at the same time, and sign my real name. Then, gradually, I'll warp it to "Dylam Neggs" and " Mylad Seggm" when they stop checking everyday. I'll write it really sloppy too, to make them question whether I'm writing it wrong or just improperly. Things would have been a lot easier if they'd just asked my name when they found I was doing it (I come in most everyday, afterall), and said "Oh, that Dylan!" and wrote my real name since my handwriting's pretty distinct. But no, their sense of order and mindnumbing desire for law overcame whatever minute sense of humor they have. People who can't take some dissent with some laughter just annoy me...
Ah well. It was part of what made my day, at any rate. You probably wouldn't believe the other part if I told you. So I won't. The year keeps slipping along, and for some reason for every smidge it gets worse, something else counteracts it to make it quite a bit better. My stars...
Edit: I still don't think the librarians know my name after all this time. I do declare...
Sunday, November 7
Star Light, Star Bright
As I travel my usual path, I'm overcome by a queer sense of despair, a loneliness I'm thoroughly unfamiliar with. Everything seems so much darker... so frightening. And I, I walk alone. Afraid, almost, of this bleak new world. What has changed? Why is it so... cold. So... dark.
I hadn't even noticed the moon's absence. I never really respected its light, until now. In fact, I never embraced the sun. I called it names, taunted it, begged it to leave me be. And when it left, the moon's light still assaulted my eyes. It was a burden. Yet now it's gone. The light, the warmth, the normality all... gone. The world is dark and cold. And I... I am alone.
The world’s sun is gone, so I turn to my star. My warmth. My sun. My moon. My light. But woe, it too is eclipsed. Some planet of more vibrant hues, greater size, larger orbit, with stronger, grander rings has passed between us. The star is not at fault, no, but still we are distant. I paid no attention to its absence, when the sun was shining and the moon lent its soft, lunar glow to the world. But now all I see are distant stars, so very far away. Where did my star go? I never realized how much warmth it had. A much needed commodity, on a night like tonight.
Ah, me. When the sun shines, a star is but a bonus. When the moon beams, a star is a comfort. But when all light fades, a star is a shining beacon against the darkness of this fickle, eternal cycle. The sun shows its shining face less and less; the once full moon is sliced night by night until finally not even a sliver remains. Then we appreciate our stars. As we stroll along on these empty nights, we seek them out. And those that have them are truly blessed.
Alas, my star is faded. I wish not on a star, but for it. Yet wishes are not realities. So I walk, alone, cold, dark. I know I too have left my star, continued on my own orbit, as it must travel its. It too has suffered as I do now. But if absence makes the heart grow fonder, let my heart stop growing and end this wretched absence! I like my star. No, I love it.
I hadn't even noticed the moon's absence. I never really respected its light, until now. In fact, I never embraced the sun. I called it names, taunted it, begged it to leave me be. And when it left, the moon's light still assaulted my eyes. It was a burden. Yet now it's gone. The light, the warmth, the normality all... gone. The world is dark and cold. And I... I am alone.
The world’s sun is gone, so I turn to my star. My warmth. My sun. My moon. My light. But woe, it too is eclipsed. Some planet of more vibrant hues, greater size, larger orbit, with stronger, grander rings has passed between us. The star is not at fault, no, but still we are distant. I paid no attention to its absence, when the sun was shining and the moon lent its soft, lunar glow to the world. But now all I see are distant stars, so very far away. Where did my star go? I never realized how much warmth it had. A much needed commodity, on a night like tonight.
Ah, me. When the sun shines, a star is but a bonus. When the moon beams, a star is a comfort. But when all light fades, a star is a shining beacon against the darkness of this fickle, eternal cycle. The sun shows its shining face less and less; the once full moon is sliced night by night until finally not even a sliver remains. Then we appreciate our stars. As we stroll along on these empty nights, we seek them out. And those that have them are truly blessed.
Alas, my star is faded. I wish not on a star, but for it. Yet wishes are not realities. So I walk, alone, cold, dark. I know I too have left my star, continued on my own orbit, as it must travel its. It too has suffered as I do now. But if absence makes the heart grow fonder, let my heart stop growing and end this wretched absence! I like my star. No, I love it.
Saturday, November 6
Bored
My classes are beginning to bore me. The only times Calculus is entertaining is when I get to take a test or quizzes. Otherwise, nada. But I still have to do the homework. Meh, go figure. However, in my near delirious state of mental idleness, to prevent myself from falling asleep I wrote some prose-etry. So here they are, uneditted (including gramatical mistakes), straight from the class discussed. Enjoy! (I'll warn ya now, it's a tad... odd. In a bad way. But that's public school for you, eh? New poll up, by the way.)
4 f(e)=A=r 0*f #
A Calculus Crypt
Although I am tempted, I dare not sleep, for troubles of old and Newton shall plague. I phase in and then out, round and about the room to preserve my reserve of patience. I ponder and plea for some activity that shall waken my poor soul from slumber, but regretfully it appears to me that this Calculus still has my number. Alas and alack, my slumped over back leaves my head to look for a pillow, but since she's off track and my mind's on the rack, I'm required to weep with the willow. And cries I now write for I no longer fight the boredom and idle depression, but though it sounds trite and is devoid of bite, my thoughts creep into rhyming recession.STOP I declare, for I'm going somewhere in which dreams overcome every difference and sum, and I still question why we all multiply every figure and shape in each plane and planescape in a binary code, a numerical ode, to a one and some zeros, our nihilistic heores, all counting the days till our greens turn to grays and I stand up and SCREAM
THEY ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM! "No use, all," is the morbid last call. Drink to me darling with a twinkle of eye and your Romantic sigh-ed of the story.
Econ, The Do
I demand to know why I supply an answer right in my mind's eye that's right when I use common cents that I have never earned. Earned, then spurned, is how this works, with bureacrats and business jerks all plying, trying, crying, lieing, buying my soul and entire whole attention span to dollar signs and whines of unemployed landminds planted within these coded pages, stirring rages, closing cages on what I was sure was true. But you, you fury causing thought that ought not to supply its quantity of persistence in sustaining its sad existence solely spreading lies intended to be known as fact. A fact? A fact! No use of tact is used when reality abused is defied and warped and lied upon its shell. Theories, theories, queries teary mindeyes. I find that now I've been turned blind, like Justice with her laws and rules, but all the these new rules are formed by fools who believe no God, so odd, yet blindly trust that rust shall not adulterate the rate of change in time of this out of control rhyme that deals in, but makes, no cents.
Economic Eccentricities
Fingers sans toes, whoever knows to press the keys to success. It's a breeze to cough and wheeze out notes from throats exhaling zounds of different sounds. A missed key here unlocks a trapdoor of discord that hides beneath the floor. A cry, a scream, a minor sigh of dark romance to dance and prance and waltz with faults of step in the 3/4 march of life "Hup One, hup three", he yells at me, and I don't care for his notes or stare as I unload a barrage of staccato bullets aimed at his heart. It's a start, in this sonorous war, but I fear it won't end before the double bar of death. I practice C's and miseries for coming concerts of despair and symphonies of agonies, oh listener beware! A masterpiece of writing, a sonata of silence, a concerto of nothing, a soundless,
e
m
p
t
y
VOID
4 f(e)=A=r 0*f #
A Calculus Crypt
Although I am tempted, I dare not sleep, for troubles of old and Newton shall plague. I phase in and then out, round and about the room to preserve my reserve of patience. I ponder and plea for some activity that shall waken my poor soul from slumber, but regretfully it appears to me that this Calculus still has my number. Alas and alack, my slumped over back leaves my head to look for a pillow, but since she's off track and my mind's on the rack, I'm required to weep with the willow. And cries I now write for I no longer fight the boredom and idle depression, but though it sounds trite and is devoid of bite, my thoughts creep into rhyming recession.STOP I declare, for I'm going somewhere in which dreams overcome every difference and sum, and I still question why we all multiply every figure and shape in each plane and planescape in a binary code, a numerical ode, to a one and some zeros, our nihilistic heores, all counting the days till our greens turn to grays and I stand up and SCREAM
THEY ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM! "No use, all," is the morbid last call. Drink to me darling with a twinkle of eye and your Romantic sigh-ed of the story.
Econ, The Do
I demand to know why I supply an answer right in my mind's eye that's right when I use common cents that I have never earned. Earned, then spurned, is how this works, with bureacrats and business jerks all plying, trying, crying, lieing, buying my soul and entire whole attention span to dollar signs and whines of unemployed landminds planted within these coded pages, stirring rages, closing cages on what I was sure was true. But you, you fury causing thought that ought not to supply its quantity of persistence in sustaining its sad existence solely spreading lies intended to be known as fact. A fact? A fact! No use of tact is used when reality abused is defied and warped and lied upon its shell. Theories, theories, queries teary mindeyes. I find that now I've been turned blind, like Justice with her laws and rules, but all the these new rules are formed by fools who believe no God, so odd, yet blindly trust that rust shall not adulterate the rate of change in time of this out of control rhyme that deals in, but makes, no cents.
Economic Eccentricities
Fingers sans toes, whoever knows to press the keys to success. It's a breeze to cough and wheeze out notes from throats exhaling zounds of different sounds. A missed key here unlocks a trapdoor of discord that hides beneath the floor. A cry, a scream, a minor sigh of dark romance to dance and prance and waltz with faults of step in the 3/4 march of life "Hup One, hup three", he yells at me, and I don't care for his notes or stare as I unload a barrage of staccato bullets aimed at his heart. It's a start, in this sonorous war, but I fear it won't end before the double bar of death. I practice C's and miseries for coming concerts of despair and symphonies of agonies, oh listener beware! A masterpiece of writing, a sonata of silence, a concerto of nothing, a soundless,
e
m
p
t
y
VOID
Sin
My greatest sin is envy. You were expecting gluttony, right? From most appearances, it might be sloth. But there are some things, important things, that I do do. I see sloth as not doing what has to be done. I do what I need to, I just don't do it promptly. I've too little self-esteem for pride, I repress all the lust I can, I don't think badly of others often enough to get angry, and I'm any but greedy for material possessions.
So that leaves envy. And I have it bad. Mainly I'm envious of power. Not exactly physical power, or political, or the "traditional" uses of the word. I want to be able to create/perform works that have real power. I see so many who can and do, and since I feel inadequate in that regard, I'm envious instead of appreciative. It takes away from other people's accomplishments so because I try to find flaws to make myself feel better. Or I don't at all, and I slip and slide down a watery plastic slope of depression. Oh the grass stains on my fragile frame, believe you me.
I suppose the desire for power is rooted in my lack of purpose. For those who might not have picked up on my oh so subtle hints, the main reason I'm still living is delusion. The problem is, I see the delusion and know I'm doing it, so it doesn't work all that well. I crave a meaning, or at the very least a tangible, concrete value. I shouldn't, I have meaning to at least a few people, but I want to be able to affect more. It's like a futile obsession, because I'll never believe it when I do, if I actually did it would fade so fast it would be equitable to worthless, and it's all dust on the wind after a few years anyway.
I don't know, I listen to a song, see a movie, watch an actor, read a book, and I'm moved. I want to do that to other people. It's at once a depressant, an impetus, and an inspiration. And when I face my failure (whether it's just perception or actually existant), I just become more envious of those who succeed.
Really, I've been falling back on my novel a whole lot. I keep thinking "this will be the culmination, this will be the ideas and affect I want to achieve. This will be exactly what I want to create so I can rest easy for the duration of my life, living my piddly little anticlimatic math teacher goal but not caring I'm not something more because I have created something good." And there's where it gets even worse. I'll write my novel and get feedback (I'll probably have you all do surveys). Now, the positive I won't believe. Especially if it's lukewarm, unenthused, "polite" positive. Don't give me that. I want truthful results, but I obviously want them to be good too. So I'll try to put a great deal of effort into this. You know Perse, in all its 40+ pages, only had about 20000 words? I want to at least double that. This thing is going to be... different. I'm looking forward to it more than I've looked forward to much of anything in recent memory. And yet, I know it will be a huge letdown. But... we'll see. Be honest. I'm a paranoid, timid little ball of nerves.
Oh dear.
So that leaves envy. And I have it bad. Mainly I'm envious of power. Not exactly physical power, or political, or the "traditional" uses of the word. I want to be able to create/perform works that have real power. I see so many who can and do, and since I feel inadequate in that regard, I'm envious instead of appreciative. It takes away from other people's accomplishments so because I try to find flaws to make myself feel better. Or I don't at all, and I slip and slide down a watery plastic slope of depression. Oh the grass stains on my fragile frame, believe you me.
I suppose the desire for power is rooted in my lack of purpose. For those who might not have picked up on my oh so subtle hints, the main reason I'm still living is delusion. The problem is, I see the delusion and know I'm doing it, so it doesn't work all that well. I crave a meaning, or at the very least a tangible, concrete value. I shouldn't, I have meaning to at least a few people, but I want to be able to affect more. It's like a futile obsession, because I'll never believe it when I do, if I actually did it would fade so fast it would be equitable to worthless, and it's all dust on the wind after a few years anyway.
I don't know, I listen to a song, see a movie, watch an actor, read a book, and I'm moved. I want to do that to other people. It's at once a depressant, an impetus, and an inspiration. And when I face my failure (whether it's just perception or actually existant), I just become more envious of those who succeed.
Really, I've been falling back on my novel a whole lot. I keep thinking "this will be the culmination, this will be the ideas and affect I want to achieve. This will be exactly what I want to create so I can rest easy for the duration of my life, living my piddly little anticlimatic math teacher goal but not caring I'm not something more because I have created something good." And there's where it gets even worse. I'll write my novel and get feedback (I'll probably have you all do surveys). Now, the positive I won't believe. Especially if it's lukewarm, unenthused, "polite" positive. Don't give me that. I want truthful results, but I obviously want them to be good too. So I'll try to put a great deal of effort into this. You know Perse, in all its 40+ pages, only had about 20000 words? I want to at least double that. This thing is going to be... different. I'm looking forward to it more than I've looked forward to much of anything in recent memory. And yet, I know it will be a huge letdown. But... we'll see. Be honest. I'm a paranoid, timid little ball of nerves.
Oh dear.
Thursday, November 4
Wednesday, November 3
When Vice Principals go Mad on Radio (Or Madness at the Polls)
"Breaker 19, Breaker 19, this is Sugar Cube, we've got a domestic disturbance in front of the auditorium, over."
"Sugar Cube, this is Salt Block, do you need back up, over?"
"Salt Block, we have two males approximately 15 years of age apparently quarrelling over whether twinkies are more delicious than the blood of the innocent. They have crowbars, I'm going in, over."
"Sugar Cube, I'm calling in the Tazer-Guard, OVER."
"Salt Block, I'm gonna have to use my broadsword to control the situation OVER!"
"Sugar Cube, I need you to abort the mission, I repeat, ABORT OVER."
"Salt Block, I'm currently engaged in a firefight with malatov cocktails and a whole lotta hand grenades, I'm sending in the assassin kangaroos, OVER!"
"ABORT Sugar Cube, ABORT!"
"Breaking the line... can't take... kamikaze chimapanzees.... need.... more... VODKA!!!"
"WE HAVE NO LIQUOR!!! ONLY FRUIT PUNCH, OVER!"
"THE LIBERTARIANS ARE EVERYWHE-" *crash* *pop* *BANG* *BANG*
"Sugar Cube? Sugar Cube! NOOOOO"
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Heh, I got bored yesterday. Really, really bored. So that's one of the five "pieces" I wrote on a whim. It was kinda fun.
Anyway, election didn't turn out "as planned." There were no epic cataclysms, Ragnarok did not occur, nor did I transcend my physical form to the blissful angelic state that awaits my wayward soul. But Shannondale did get a Badnarik vote, so it's all good baby! I was depressed this morning, but Cardboard proved a wonderful cure to what ailed me, so I'm in good spirits. Tomorrow, and most of the rest of the semester, looks pretty bleak. English, Calculus, Economics, and Band all involve more work and/or boredom than I'd prefer in an average day. It's especially bad since I'm mostly decided on what I'll do in and after college, so I've little incentive to work now. Go figure.
Other than that, not much else is new. My mother said one of the most painful things to me after reading my letters (I may post another sometime) from yesterday: "Forget Math, you should be a writer." Some people have so much nerve...
Finally, I bought a pirate game at Gameboard today! (We went to the mall to perform that dreaded ritual of futility, clothes shopping. But no pants would fit me at JCPenny, so I get to go pantsless! Or I'll have to borrow some of yours. Hey, we teenage boys want in people's pants for a good reason!) Anyway, it's a neat little game. Hopefully I can set it up in Cardboard next time. Hope to see you all there!
"Sugar Cube, this is Salt Block, do you need back up, over?"
"Salt Block, we have two males approximately 15 years of age apparently quarrelling over whether twinkies are more delicious than the blood of the innocent. They have crowbars, I'm going in, over."
"Sugar Cube, I'm calling in the Tazer-Guard, OVER."
"Salt Block, I'm gonna have to use my broadsword to control the situation OVER!"
"Sugar Cube, I need you to abort the mission, I repeat, ABORT OVER."
"Salt Block, I'm currently engaged in a firefight with malatov cocktails and a whole lotta hand grenades, I'm sending in the assassin kangaroos, OVER!"
"ABORT Sugar Cube, ABORT!"
"Breaking the line... can't take... kamikaze chimapanzees.... need.... more... VODKA!!!"
"WE HAVE NO LIQUOR!!! ONLY FRUIT PUNCH, OVER!"
"THE LIBERTARIANS ARE EVERYWHE-" *crash* *pop* *BANG* *BANG*
"Sugar Cube? Sugar Cube! NOOOOO"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heh, I got bored yesterday. Really, really bored. So that's one of the five "pieces" I wrote on a whim. It was kinda fun.
Anyway, election didn't turn out "as planned." There were no epic cataclysms, Ragnarok did not occur, nor did I transcend my physical form to the blissful angelic state that awaits my wayward soul. But Shannondale did get a Badnarik vote, so it's all good baby! I was depressed this morning, but Cardboard proved a wonderful cure to what ailed me, so I'm in good spirits. Tomorrow, and most of the rest of the semester, looks pretty bleak. English, Calculus, Economics, and Band all involve more work and/or boredom than I'd prefer in an average day. It's especially bad since I'm mostly decided on what I'll do in and after college, so I've little incentive to work now. Go figure.
Other than that, not much else is new. My mother said one of the most painful things to me after reading my letters (I may post another sometime) from yesterday: "Forget Math, you should be a writer." Some people have so much nerve...
Finally, I bought a pirate game at Gameboard today! (We went to the mall to perform that dreaded ritual of futility, clothes shopping. But no pants would fit me at JCPenny, so I get to go pantsless! Or I'll have to borrow some of yours. Hey, we teenage boys want in people's pants for a good reason!) Anyway, it's a neat little game. Hopefully I can set it up in Cardboard next time. Hope to see you all there!