In theory, fascinating.

Today

2011-03-21T02:45:00.001-07:00

It's March 21st. I'm at least 225 pounds.
I will never miss a day of exercise again. I will never order a pizza for myself again. No more soda.
I don't want to be fat anymore.

2011-02-13T17:51:00.002-08:00

Here is what I want in my life: direction. Motivation. A goal. I want to apply myself to something, and make progress towards it. I want to write. I want to be athletic. I want to make friends. I want to be funnier. I want to sing. I want to be educated, I want to speak in Latin, I want to play the guitar, I want to help people in dire straits, I want to help people fix failing relationships, I want to be a fantastic lover and a good listener, I want to wake up every day and get things done. I want to do it all. This is my goal.
And step one is not going to college, or getting a job, or some event in the future that will open the doors to let me do all of those things.
Those doors are locked until I fix what is wrong with me. That malaise that says "You have put in some effort, now take a break." That seeping sin that tells me lethargy is a replacement for action. Every iota of me that doesn't do because doing is HARD.
I can't live like this anymore. Or if that's not true, I won't live like this anymore. The first step is doing something.
The second step is doing something else after I do that. The third step is doing another thing once that step is done.
Apply to more colleges, write more things, labor towards goals even though labor is labor and there's no instant gratification.
Be a better man. Stop waiting.

2011-02-13T17:51:00.001-08:00

In AA, this phenomenon is known as "the amazing recuperative power of the ego". When people first decide to get sober, it's never during a high-point in their lives. It usually follows something catastrophic, like an arrest, a breakup or losing your family, a health crisis, etc.. It's a time of abject demoralization, when the reality of the situation is at it's starkest.

This is a crucial time for recovery, because the ego has basically been crushed by alcoholism and the alcoholic has no choice but to accept that he is completely hopeless. People in this state are ready for a fundamental change, which is required for long-term sobriety for real alcoholics. It's sometimes referred to as a "moment of clarity" (Pulp Fiction fans are familiar with the term). But it's called a "moment" for a reason. It is like a window that will shut unless something is done to keep it open long enough to climb through.

The ego is tremendously resilient and will bounce back will alarming speed. At first, this seems like a good thing. You start feeling better, getting your self confidence back, then - bam - along with it comes that tenacious old belief that you can handle a drink or two, and you're right back where you started. The vicious cycle. To anyone on the outside looking in, it's inexplicable. You appear to have lost your mind, and in a sense you have. That's the insanity of alcoholism.

Remember this.

`

2009-10-04T07:53:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I look through the photo albums of strangers. I see the highlights of other lives, the moments captured at the height of euphoria. I see the stretches of happy times, the trips, the visits, the special days that spread their glow through the rest of the year. But to me, there is no rest of the year. I skip from high point to high point, oblivious to subtext, unknowing of the hard times between those peaks. I look on, and I want to live their lives, see what it's like being someone else, wallow in the exotic expanse of another's existence. It's the same feeling I get after I finish reading a long book, that strange trickle of foreign thoughts that brush against my own. I can never dig into them, explore them, heed my passing whim, and so I never realize how unlike reality my view of their life is.

dreams

2009-05-29T02:14:00.001-07:00

In this dismal morning hour, as my left leg throbs with a twisted muscle, I find myself thinking back to high school. This isn't all that uncommon for me; I have been having dreams about high school lately. Not the time spent there, but the place itself, the atmosphere it had for me.
High school has ended, a long time ago for me. And yet in the three years since it left, I haven't found a way to replace it. I can't recapture the camaraderie that spending six hours a day in the same building created between my friends and I. I find myself thinking back to that time, and trying to remember who I was back then, how I acted; trying to re-assemble the pieces of a broken time that wouldn't be relevant to my life anymore anyway, just because it's a touchstone of familiarity and confidence to me. That structure I leaned on is gone, and I have been endlessly stumbling without it.
Even the internet is no refuge for me anymore. I find myself thinking that I used to be funnier, more popular, more relevant. It's that attention whore part of myself, the person inside of me that wants to have a witty comment for every occasion.
But I can't do it anymore, if I ever could. I spent five months writing an article for Cracked.com because I didn't think I was funny enough to finish it. I still don't, really. I find my own feeble attempts at jokes forced and out of touch. Considering how important being funny is to me, it's not a good sign that I don't find myself all that funny anymore.
All of my problems loop back to that same trend; reaching into the past to recreate a person who isn't there anymore. That sense of humor was so well-trained and sharp because it was what I used as a substitute for actually interacting with people.
At the same time, though, I find myself lost without that barrier. I've lost that edge that let me interact with people unselfconsciously, and without that I flounder. So I stand at a precipice; do I try and recreate that bladed humor that made me feel like a funny person, or do I abandon everything that has given me shape and self-worth and try to make friends like a normal person? Both options scare me; the first because I don't know if I can, the second because I don't know if I can, and I don't know if I'll be any good at it, and I don't know how in the first place.

So here are my inner thoughts on virtual paper, whoever actually checks this anymore. It helped me to at least get the primordial mess that has been in my head out onto something less viscous.

``

2008-09-09T19:12:00.000-07:00

Here in Rhode Island, I usually have a desk light on, facing the wall. If I don't, I start to feel like I'm back in New York, sitting at the computer. I actually find myself reaching down to my right side from time to time, trying to turn on a light that's hundreds of miles away. I find it a little odd, since I actually have a different monitor now, and a different chair, and different speakers. But those changes are purely cosmetic, it seems. That setting is imprinted in me, and whenever I enter similar circumstances it revives itself.

3

2008-08-24T01:30:00.001-07:00

Having this compendium of my writing from the past three years or so is interesting to me. I can read what I wrote way back when, and know that I feel differently now, and yet not know exactly when the change that lead to that happened.

2

2008-08-24T01:14:00.000-07:00

For posterity, here is the idea I will never flesh out that spawned the entry below this.

A 26 year old failed musician is working at a faceless retail outlet. Stuff happens, he lands in another world- standard fantasy fare. The entire beginning is mostly to establish an outsider's perspective to give an artificial emotional tint to wherever he ends up, and to lend a more unique air to his newfound abilities- if he was a native, it would be an entirely different flavor than someone coming from another land.
This allows his adaptation to his new world to provide a natural character arc that doesn't require an artificial force prodding him into discoveries about himself; he stumbles into new parts of himself brought to the fore by situations he has never encountered before. Basically, this origin feels best to me because I want an alien feel to my setting, not a familiar one.
At any rate, the main idea behind this character is that he stumbles into political intrigue that, for some reason, wants to make use of him. He opposes this, other things happen, and so on. What makes him special, besides his status as an outsider, is in this world he has an innate connection to music. When he hears music playing, or plays music himself, he is able to take the emotional "feel" of the music and create effects in the physical world with it.
Where it goes from there is fairly cliche', mostly because I don't have a proper characterization for my unnamed protagonist in mind, or a real setting.
Basically I just thought of the music thing in the car and thought it would be a neat idea for a book.

1

2008-08-24T01:02:00.000-07:00

The first step in confronting a lack of desire to write is to start writing something. This is to get the creative juices flowing, and more importantly, to make it so that NOT writing requires some sort of exertion, rather than the other way around. If you are as lazy and difficult to motivate as me, this is an important thing.

I often have ideas for novels that I would like to write. I plot them out in my head, create a concept and a main character, maybe start thinking of a setting.. and then that little spark of creative passion for the idea snuffs out, and I'm left with a "that would have been neat." I have a lot of those, self-contained pieces of my imagination, strung together by a common thread of neglect. I wanted to write "failure", but that implies I tried in the first place.
In reality, I never started, because starting would leave me open to failure. The best way to be a fabulous writer with unlimited potential is to never write anything at all; your fabulous ideas and masterful prose remains safely in your head, where you can coo about how epoch-shaking and magnificent it is.

Another problem I have is that the act of writing something that takes more than one sitting is such an unfathomable level of commitment to me that just thinking about it is incredibly daunting. I am not the best at patience.
This has been a conflict within me for a long, long time. Ever since I was little, I wanted to write a novel. The urge to express myself artistically is very strong- I want to learn to play the guitar, I want to write a novel, I want to sing, I want learn to dance- but all of those aspirations are crushed by the simple fact that I lack the drive, and the patience, to learn how to do any of them.
That, ultimately, is the biggest reason I don't write novels. I don't know how. An awareness of the craft, what should be in them, how things should go- none of these are any help for the actual act of creation, they are only guideposts for those who have started to move. I never leave the gate.

╚

2008-06-02T02:35:00.000-07:00

I think one of the reasons I haven't updated this in a long time is because of the nature of writing. When I first started writing this, I knew no one was reading it- I acted like people were, because of I am often a performer at heart. But the knowledge was there that I was unobserved, unnoticed.

When people eventually did start reading it- all two or three of them- I was not particularly bothered by it. They were my friends, people I knew, but they were also people I kept distant from me. A common thread running through my friendships is one of distance- with people I was close to by location, I was distant emotionally. I shared little of myself. It was only with those that I was distant to that I could open up, knowing in the back of my mind that it was a different kind of friendship- one without all the trappings of physical friendship. It was controlled, it was free of demands. It was, I think, ultimately impersonal. I was sharing of myself, but only because I knew I was safe, because I knew that I would never have to confront these people in reality.

When I write now, it is present in the back of my mind that someone who crosses the boundary between these two realms exists, and is going to read this. It makes it more difficult, because I have to stop myself from wondering what she will think, stop myself from tailoring it to what would make me look good. It adds another layer to the process, one that I have little experience in dealing with.

I realize all of my sparse entries have been revolving around Marina, but it seems unavoidable to me- things have changed for me, in profound ways. I have had to reexamine my past dealings with people, because now I have a new frame of reference for them, because I have been forced to realize how distant I have been with people, how pointlessly mysterious and closed off. I have changed in ways I have not even begun to realize, simply because doing so seems so natural and right. It is only because my barriers have lowered themselves on their own for this one person that I realize they are there at all, and that has been something I have been coming to terms with.

Having this kind of self-reflection happen is confusing, daunting, and rather scary at times. How do you make judgment calls about things when the rules you used to make those calls are changing, with or without your knowledge? And quantifying the things that are changing is a struggle as well. The only real tool I have is comparing with what goes on now with my vague, most likely warped memories of how things were- and it gets worse when you have to use those quantifications to guide yourself, because how can you know what is actually the right path?

And at the same time as I am writing this, I am wondering what I should leave out, what I should stop myself from writing because trying to explain it would be too hard, or something I am not ready to do, or because I am afraid of the pointlessness of my devoutly meta ramblings being exposed as "just talking for the sake of talking." New layers have been added to something I always did for the sake of doing, and it has been intimidating.

But I find myself doing it anyway, because it is strangely liberating to write. It feels like a kind of false invulnerability: you know it really is not, but you act as though it is, you say things in the open that might not belong there, or are unimportant in the big picture but are being treated as important. It feels like self-aggrandizement of my own mind, talking myself up as complicated and richly textured, when really I am just experiencing what other people have experienced, will experience. But doing it is like stretching a muscle you use only rarely, giving something a voice it usually never has- and in doing it, you surprise yourself from time to time. Or, at least I do. I find myself writing out things casually that I have never thought, but grasp my situation perfectly. They may not be important realizations, but the true value is in finding them showing up on their own.

fugue

2008-03-19T04:08:00.001-07:00

As I think I posted a few times before already, I'm currently in a relationship. And I'm deliriously happy, most of the time. But it brings up issues with my mentality towards life that I haven't really needed to address before. Keep in mind, most of this is pseudo-intellectual bullshit, but it's always fun to talk in that stuff once in a while.

The problem with being in a relationship for me is that it brings up the pressing and urgent matter of my own mortality. The connection might not be obvious- what does a relationship have to do with everyone dying? Well, it comes down to my own view on things. Before now, I was rather distant from most people- in fact, from pretty much everyone. I held things back, I had reserves about myself that other people did not get to see, period. This is no longer the case, and the more this is not the case, the more pressing the matter of my mortality becomes. Now I have a frame of reference for life, and at the same time, something to lose to death. I'm at the crux between having nothing to lose, and having so much to lose that losing it doesn't matter anymore, because I've already enjoyed enough of life.

Granted, the second part of that seems impossible to me, but I'm sure that's because I'm still young, and eventually I'll get tired of life or something like that. But until that time, I am mortal.
It hits me, now. By finally actually living, I am opening myself up to the possibility of dying, something which frightens me immensely. Looking at her face and realizing that someone who is not me knows so much about me, and I know so much about her, is something that I have not really been equipped to deal with in my life so far. It challenges my perceptions of life, it helps enforce the realization that everyone lives in their own head, and I am nothing special.

That part of me is still fighting, still trying to keep itself alive. When my connection to what I think of now as the 'occult' died off for the most part, that was the first solid blow to it, to my driving passion to keep mystery in the world. I want so desperately to think there is mysticism at work in the world, for many reasons. Because I am cynical, because I am afraid of death, because I feel like I could be more than I am.
This relationship is the second major blow to that connection to mysticism. I can't hold myself back from humanity anymore, so I can't pretend that I'm not mortal like everyone else, either. I have to realize that my perception is biased towards itself, and not a unique thing. Everyone things it's a startling thing that they live in their own head, but we all think it at the same time.

In conclusion, I am still working towards being a person. Wish me luck.

!

2008-02-01T19:29:00.000-08:00

So I moved to Rhode Island and I'm with this girl I met on the internets and it's pretty dope and I'm wicked happy.

Elementary Memory

2007-12-08T19:08:00.000-08:00

Back when I was in elementary school, we would have assemblies in the gym. Sometimes, though, they would take too long to start, and all of the little kiddies would start doing the thing from Queen's We Will Rock You. The "stomp-stomp-clap" sound. A giant, echoy place, with three or four hundred people all making that sound together as a vague, childish protest against... something. Looking back, I'm not really sure what they were so upset about. Perhaps the teenaged disdain for education and class I heard from my peers in high school wasn't so entrenched back then.
But I do remember doing it, and even trying to start it going myself. I loved those moments of feeling like I was part of this enormous movement, working along with everyone else to stick it to 'the man'.

I was a lonely child, I think. I didn't think I was, back then, but looking back now, I notice a sad little trend that involved an awful lot of me reading books by myself behind things. So when I say I looked forward to those moments, there's a bit more of a melancholy tinge to it than you might think. But even still, they were impressive moments to me.

2

2007-09-10T07:50:00.000-07:00

I really should get a notepad or something. I always have things that I think would be interesting to write about, and I always forget what they are. I've been thinking about Marina quite a bit, which is par for the course with that one quote that's stuck with me for so long. I speculate from time to time about how I should go ahead with this. Uncertainty is, as always, a constant.

-

2007-09-09T16:30:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty melancholy, now. It seems oddly signifigant for me, to be actually sad when I'll be away from people for a while. It usually doesn't bother me in the slightest. I like Marina quite a bit, it seems. The way her and Jon interact confuses me from time to time. I'm a little curious if he views their relationship the same way she does- or at least the way she told me she does. For probably the first time in my life, though, there's actually a person that I really like quite a bit, that I know actually feels the same way about me.

hi

2007-09-03T09:16:00.000-07:00

I find myself being pretty bad at making connections with people. Once I actually get introduced or something I do okay, but making that first step is something that seems to be mostly beyond me.

A piece of evidence: my second day in my dorm, and I'm in my room typing a journal entry with no one else around.

I don't really know what to do about it. At this point, I'm really just hoping that day-to-day interactions with people provide enough that I can get around my shortcomings.
Or there's my backup plan of being a complete recluse and only talking to people I already know. Either or.

I'm really looking forward to classes starting so I actually have something to do. That's a big thing.
I need to buy textbooks.

also I met a bunch of people I know from the internet and it was very awesome

http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y275/3rft/AAL.jpg

!

2007-05-18T05:04:00.000-07:00

Having been watching a lot of Scrubs and Futurama lately, I've come to realize that I don't like drama very much, on a conceptual level at least.

I think my problem with it is that drama is easier to do, if not easier to do well.
A drama just has to be serious and about serious things to qualify as a good drama. A good comedy, on the other hand, actually has to be funny.

You know, my topic of writing is actually not true. I was going to talk about how you can add drama to comedy and it's still good, but you can't add comedy to drama, but that's not true. Really, the only difference between the two is how much of each aspect you add in. I like Scrubs and Futurama- Scrubs because it's pretty funny, and manages to have serious moments that aren't overdone, and Futurama because it's really funny, and surprises me with serious, genuinely touching moments from time to time.

I also like pumpkin pie.

`

2007-03-12T01:07:00.000-07:00

I frustrate myself with my inability to actually DO anything. For a long, long time I've coasted, and now that time should be at an end. But it's not, and I'm going downhill.

All I really want a job for is money, and all I want money for is the ability to visit so many people I want to meet.

But I have met them. Just not in a physical sense.
Odd, that such a distinction matters so. But it does, it matters a lot. Text hits a wall, and there's so much I need to do that I'm not doing.

I need to write a book or something.

!!

2006-12-13T08:05:00.000-08:00

I just passed my test, and am now legally capable of driving.

Cliche

2006-12-06T15:12:00.000-08:00

For the duration of this post, pretend I'm putting the accent mark on the E in Cliche.

Cliches have a lot of power. I find myself thinking in them all the time; imaginary situations almost invariably conform themselves to some cliche. It's almost a default mode of thought for me. In situation X, what would probably happen is cliche y.

That's never really true, but I still think like that unless I pay attention and think otherwise.

Why is that? I don't think anyone really believes cliches happen, but they're incredibly prevalent, and they're the first thing I think of. Why? Are they just simpilized structures so that we can think about something without devoting too much effort to it?

There's a lot of that kind of thing in human thought, I think. I read The Monkeysphere
by David Wong a while back, and it strikes me as being quite true. I think of myself as being able to conceive of thousands of people.. but am I? What experience do I have with so many people to be able to judge? And really, even the people I think I know now.. do I actually know them as people, or just as one-dimensional character traits? And really, it's the second. It's "hey that's Fred, he likes skateboarding." I don't know that he has emotional issues with his mother and skateboards because she hates it, and is a straight-A student. He's just that dude with the skateboard.

Simplicity of thought.

!~

2006-12-05T14:31:00.000-08:00

I was doing a livejournal train today-
A livejournal train is where you read one person's journal a bit, follow a comment to another person's, and so on-
And I noticed, there's really no between posts. Anyone who posts regularly is either "today was awesome" or "today was terrible." No one really says, "Today was pretty average. Bland, really."
I'm sure I could make up all kinds of things about why this is so very psychologically telling, but.. You know, it's not. People talk about things that are exciting.

Someone said to me once that their idea of a wise person was someone who could see both sides of an issue they felt strongly about. I'm unsure if I count as wise; I can see both sides of pretty much everything, but I also don't really feel strongly about any issues. Does that make apathy the ultimate wisdom, or just a misuse of a little saying? I don't really think wisdom is something you can come across by default, though.

But maybe you can. Most wisdom I've heard of is knowing when not to act; because acting is easy, and not acting is more of a judgement call. That makes a lazy, apathetic person wise most of the time, because usually the best thing you can do in any situation is nothing. Especially involving other people.

Then again, I could be wrong.

~

2006-12-04T15:43:00.000-08:00

stub; age related to wealth of experience and apparent duration of time

~

2006-12-04T09:13:00.000-08:00

It's always tempting to think of myself as a super genius who thinks of things no one else does.
But really, everyone wants to think of themselves as that, don't they? No one really wants to believe "Yeah, I'm pretty average." But someone has to be the average.

Consider if everyone was average. You don't really hear of many revolutionary inventions from an average guy just tinkering around with his train set. Most of them that I can think of were really just the result of some brilliant- perhaps somewhat unstable- inventor working alone in his lab, and suddenly bam, eureka- we've got radios, or telephones, or laws of motion. But they're part of the human race, they contribute to what the average is.

Or maybe that's just hype. No one wants to think everything cool comes from a team of scientists chipping away at a problem; that means Average Man can't suddenly think of a brilliant idea, invent it, and get filthy rich.

And it probably WAS a lone genius working that made so many inventions of today. But now the flavor of the month seems to be research teams, committees, all that good stuff. That seems counterproductive; those kinds of things will hinder the geniuses, because if their revolutionary idea seems silly, they won't ever say it out of shame. Why not use whats proven to work?

And it doesn't work well for making average people think of themselves highly either, which is why most everything I see about inventing and research is glorifying old scientists working alone and coming up with brilliant stuff, rather than research teams laboring away for months.

~

2006-12-02T13:34:00.000-08:00

Occasionally I'll look back at my thought processes many years ago, and find them just.. ridiculous. What was I thinking? Why would I do something that stupid? That persons's thoughts just seem so.. weird. But they feel like MY thoughts. I don't feel like a different person. I just act and think like one.

And I look older.

... Makes it seem like I AM a different person. But.. it was me. Just a different me.

Where does the transition happen, I wonder? Is it a gradual thing of layered personality shifts, or is it more of a poof, I'm more mature today than I was yesterday? Sudden hormonal surges?

It's an odd thought, to think of yourself acting completely differently. Things that seemed utterly reasonable at the time seem just ridiculous now.

Like things I did as a small child. One comes to mind.. My grandmother had just died, and my brother, cousin and I were given the choice of going to the burial, or going to my cousins' babysitter.

For some reason, we decided to sing our answer back to them, in unison.

Yeah.

It seems pretty silly now, but at the time it made sense. And when I got to the babysitters, I hid under a table for an hour because I didn't want to meet new people. I don't think I actually said more than two words while I was there.

I can't even fathom acting like that now, and yet I feel like the same person.

~

2006-12-01T14:36:00.000-08:00

A concern I have from time to time is that I'll run out of things to write about. Point in case; I couldn't think of anything else to write about, so I'm writing about my inability to think of anything else to write about. A complicated thing, isn't it?

But it seems that no matter how long I do this, I never quite seem to run out of things to write about. Is this because our universe is infinitely complex, or is it only complex enough that I won't have time to write about all of it?

What if I lived forever, though? And wrote something about the human condition every day. Would I, eventually, run out of things? Or would the time it takes to write something give time for something new to happen? Is the human psyche as a whole constantly changing and evolving... Or is it relatively the same, with only the basic culture and enviroment changing? And if it's the second, what are those set limits?

But, in this place where I live forever... does everyone else live forever? If I have access to something that allows it, it makes sense that other people would as well. And something like that has an almost universal market; everyone would want it. So now we have a world full of immortal people. Leaving aside the problems of infinite population potential and limited space.. What would happen to the culture? So much of what we do is driven by a limited life span; we have children so that our genetic line continues. If we lived forever, that wouldn't be needed anymore. We would BE the continuation of our genetic line. Ambition would fade, because it's just a way to make your mark on the world; if you lived forever, you would BE your own mark on the world.

If so much of our culture is based on our need to cope with our limited lifespan, what would happen if you took that away?

Web

2006-11-30T06:55:00.000-08:00

Sometimes there are questions I want to ask, really simple ones. Like, "Hey, what's the name of this song?" And I don't. Instead, I'll try my best to remember snippets of the lyrics, google them, and try to find the song. All because I don't want to ask a simple, innocuous question. I have to wonder why, sometimes.

Like now, when I've spent half an hour trying to find a song whose lyrics I barely remember, having heard it once last night. It's annoying, that I don't just ask. It puzzles me, that I do this. Doing "crazy" things in public I have no problem with, it seems. Or at least, things that make me look stupid, which is what "crazy" things usually really are. But asking an innocent question of a friend is beyond me.

Sleeping on the floor

2006-11-29T09:49:00.001-08:00

For months now, I've been sleeping on my floor.

I have a bed. It's a nice bed. But I don't use it.
I don't have any real reason. I just... stopped using it, a while back. I have one of those little foam pad things that can flip into a chair for sleeping on the floor, so it's not like I'm just lying on floorboards.

But still, I sleep on the floor for no real reason. It's not particularly comfortable, or relaxing. I just kind of do it, without any purpose in mind.
And really, the only thing keeping me on the floor is force of habit. If I wanted to, I could clear the stuff that's collected on my bed and go back to sleeping on it. But I've pretty much forgotten how exactly you sleep on a bed. All those body patterns that you don't really think about are gone.

I mean really, think about it; examine how you sleep on your bed. Personally, I'd go to sleep in this one posistion, and it's never that great.. and then I wake up, and I'm really comfortable, and it's just the perfect way to sleep. And I never remember to.. remember it. Kind of frustrating, easily solved (just remember!), and yet.. I've never really done anything about it.

And at this point, months of sleeping on the floor have left me with an inability to use a bed comfortably. Embarassing, to say the least.

~

2006-11-28T07:34:00.000-08:00

Having had all my rhythms shattered utterly by months of absolutely no structured time, I find myself with the need to get back to doing basic things- spurred by, of all things, my dentist.

Well, dental assisstant really. But I've known her essentially my entire life, although I only see her every four or five months. But she had good advice, none the less.

Like writing something every day. I should, really. It's not like I have anything better to do at this point. And most good writers seem to encourage it as a way to spurr better writing.

Why is that, I wonder? Why can even the most unknown of things, creativity, something that can't be measured or seen in a brain scan or in anything- be aided just by being creative? Is creativity just another muscle, this one inside our heads?

Is everything like that, or just certain things? Muscular activity is like that; practice really does make you better at it. The longer I type, the faster and more accurate I get. The longer an athlete practices, the faster and more accurate he gets. Can the same be said of other things we do? Can we practice being forgiving, and eventually get better at doing it? Can we practice being angry? Can we practice apathy?

Who needs sleep? Well, you're never gonna get it.

2006-11-27T15:24:00.000-08:00

Who needs sleep? Tell me, what's that for?

I haven't slept in 36 hours, right now. I feel surprisingly perky.

Not quite the usual manic energy and focused-yet-unfocused mindset I sometimes get, but neither is it entirely normal functioning. I feel like I've been up for maybe a few hours past when I should have gone to sleep... And I've felt like this since around 6 AM. It's odd; I've gone less time without sleep and had worse symptoms, and I've gone longer without sleep as well. It almost seems entirely arbitrary how it will affect me; sometimes it doesn't really bother me for 16 hours, and sometimes I'm sleepy after being awake for 5.

There's all kinds of theories about why we sleep, from nocturnal predator avoidance to memory storage. But really, none of that is all that important. You can live without sleep, for a while; that duration is seemingly random.

But whatever the cause, all I know is that without outside influence, I seem to gradually drift through times. I'll wake at 9 AM one week, and have drifted to 1PM by the next. It makes scheduling things very fun.

History

2006-10-27T09:55:00.000-07:00

Imagine if you went back in time, and replaced Aristotle. Famous Greek philosopher, famous even now, thousands of years later in another civizilation.

Think of it! You're one of the most well known figures in history, you have great respect from your entire country! You think of the philosophies that shape civilization for centuries ahead.

Now you die. It's your face on the statues, in the history books.
You're famous beyond imagining; your fame outlives the fall out the Roman empire, it endures through world wars.

But...

Would anyone know you different from the original?

~

2006-09-26T09:08:00.000-07:00

What's your breaking point?

Let's say you're buying a sink. One has the faucets with hot being left, and cold being right- and the other is flip-flopped. The sink with hot being left is oriented like you would usually have your sink, but is slightly inferior, in your opinion, to the other sink.

How much worse does the first sink have to be before you go with the sink with an orientation you're not used to?

Theoretically, you'll get used to the second sink in a few days.
But how much worse of a product would you buy before deciding to go with the unfamiliar?

Take it another step. Someone you know has hair you don't like, but they're still a good friend.

How many things about someone do there have to be you don't like, before they turn from "friend" to "someone I find unpleasant"? How much farther until you hate them, or at least loathe them?

Very few people have one trait so overwhelmingly distasteful that that is the only reason you don't like them. Everyone is just an accumulated pile of traits; you wouldn't find someone who occasionally sneezed very annoying, but what if they tapped their feet loudly, constantly drummed their fingers, talked too loudly, and had bad breath? At what point do you start to find them irritating? How many irritating traits does it take to make an irritating person?

Where is the line between best friend and "that annoying dude"?

State of affairs

2006-09-15T07:14:00.000-07:00

Amusingly, it seems I have left off actually posting anything here in sometime. This is, of course, because without education putting me in a literary state of mind, I don't write anything. Or at least, this is my slick answer for my inactivity.

In reality, I think I'm in lockdown, now that I've entered the purgatory between mandated and unmandated existence. Until now, my occupation has been, for the most part, detailed by common sense. It didn't make sense to drop out of high school- I would be sacrificing many years of effort for, at best, two years with less education and more labor. That makes no sense, given the value a high school diploma has in the work force.

Now, however, other things have reared their head. College; I should, in theory, be in one now. Most of the college-minded people in my class are. I am not. I am in purgatory; the waiting place. I haven't applied anywhere, though I intend to. One thing I am certain on- I will need to work my entire life, and I intend to at least have enough of an education to work on something I find intellectually appealing, rather than manual labor.

Other things are less clear, however. What is the source of my procrastination? Does it stem from a simple denial that I need to stop coasting long enough to set a new course, complacency with my current lifestyle? Or is there a deeper root, settled in my unacknowledged fear of losing my intellectual superiority in my chosen domains? Unknown, especially given that above fear is unacknowledged, meaning you are hallucinating this entire passage. At any rate, though I have a surface-level desire to continue my education, given my hesitancy in pursuing this, there are obviously deeper concerns, which have been delaying my actions. I need to deal with that.

Speculation on the nature of, uh, something fancy sounding.

Given the lack of a solid connection between styles of music I enjoy, I have to wonder what it is that fosters a like or dislike of a particular variety. Given that very few people voluntarily work hard to get something they don't like accepted, one must assume that every single style of music has, at bare minimum, one person who likes it (the musician who produced it.) If this is true, why is it I think (to use the cliche example of nerds) rap is crap, and someone else enjoys it?
To be honest, I don't find the sound of rap offensive (although this might be because rap usually steals their background beats from other songs) but rather dislike the lyrical content. Perhaps this differs for other people, but in my case, with most music I actively dislike, the dislike is based on the lyrical content, rather than the rhythm, beat, or any of that other musician fluff.

On the other hand, with music I do like, the lyrics often aren't very important; many of the songs I listen to repeatedly, I don't even know all the words to. Many of them I had to look up the lyrics to, because I couldn't understand the vocals.
And yet, I like the songs quite a bit regardless, even though I just established I mostly dislike things based on the lyrics. Why the disparity?
To make a bold assumption, I could say that my dislike of the lyrics of certain songs is there because I can UNDERSTAND the lyrics of those songs. Although this limits my discussion of musical styles to those involving vocals (there are non-lyrical pieces I like and dislike, but that's all complicated and stuff, screw that), that limited leaves a smaller sample-set to deal with. But really, any analysis I make is from a layman point of view, with no scientific backing. So screw that! (lol parenthesis)

Even though I feel an urge to type things now, I don't really have much to say, which is a frustrating circumstance. Any 'mental notes' I've made in preparation for this kind of thing are long forgotten, so all I could really talk about at this point is World of Warcraft (oh joy), or about how I have nothing to talk about.
And believe me, if you're commenting on events that are happening- no one cares.
If you say "boy, sure is quiet in here," you're not making any startling revelations to people. They KNOW it's quiet, and all you're doing by commenting is being someone I dislike.
Because, as you should all know- having read your "dealing with Tyler" handbooks- I dislike people commenting on the obvious. I only did it in the previous paragraph because it gave me a stream of thought into talking about stuff I don't like, which I know fascinates everyone. People who waste my time with verbal filler annoy me. Repetition of the same thing repeatedly is irritating, okay? Don't do it.
That is all.

I'd apologize for not posting anything in a while, but I doubt anyone was all that crushed by the lack of content.

Do doo Link time

2006-06-16T22:02:00.000-07:00

I found this quite fascinating:

http://www.dansimmons.com/news/message/2006_04.htm

And the follow-up:

http://www.dansimmons.com/news/message/2006_05.htm

`

2006-06-12T12:18:00.000-07:00

So long, high school.

GUYS

2006-05-29T10:01:00.000-07:00

GIANT SPAGETTI IS ATTACKING MOSCOW AS WE SPEAK! TO ARMS!

~

2006-05-27T18:31:00.000-07:00

A preponderance of splendor
In a vase made of a life
The flowers sway in the breeze
Gardens of simplicity
Who is the rose?
Crescendo rise
Apoleptic prophecy ascendant
Inchoate is the name of the times
Fall into the leaves
Leaves made of simplicity
Concepts given flesh- what mystery!
Spiral down into sorrow
Rise up into complexities
The world is a game
And the players are all mad
Who names the king in a world of kings?
Life inside your head
Life inside everyone's head
And everyone is the only one alive.

Errata

2006-05-19T18:52:00.000-07:00

Note: playing chess every day is wicked awesome.

Being asexual is weird, sometimes. People get so... worked up about dating and all those other things. It puzzles me.

I just sat and had a fun little mental scenario.
There was swearin'. Anywho!

People get all worked up about dating and it seems pointless to me.

Night sky

2006-05-12T19:25:00.000-07:00

I hate automatic lights.

I dislike any lights at night, really. I love the night sky. I feel violated, almost, when some blinding light decides to spring to life just because I walked nearby.

The sky at night.. In the summer, sometimes, I'll go outside and lie down on my road, and stare up at the sky. I do this for hours, sometimes. It's so beautiful.. everything is monocromatic, but softened, not as harsh as the sun. The clouds mix in with the sky, and you can't tell which is which. The moon... it plays off the layers of cloud, mixing light with dark. When it's full it's so bright I can read by its light, or walk around in this strange, beautiful new world. Everything is silver and black, and lovely.

Set Sail

2006-05-09T12:25:00.000-07:00

Potency

2006-05-07T22:37:00.000-07:00

As I was watching The best fight scene of all time, I noticed something.

As the man ascends into the air, held by his eye, he loses his potency. He is defeated, a struggling corpse.
He has lost all deference, all fear that his physical prowess had purchased. His might was fleeting, and when gone, immediately lost everything it had bought.

~

2006-05-04T15:06:00.000-07:00

When I'm reading things online, I obsessively highlight text, always looking for 1 line, 2 line, 3 line, and so on patterns.
As an example:

This is a one line sentence.

This sentence, on the other hand, is of greater stature, having
two lines, rather than just one.

This third sentence is of the greatest size of the three, having neither one, nor two sentences, but rather being in possession of three lines of text, which
is obviously a larger number.

I would highlight those in 1-2-3 order.

The higher amount I can get a clear shot with, the better.

I have no idea why, but this habit is so pervasive I've been unable to use several firefox extensions because I highlight text too often.

Adaptation

2006-04-30T23:01:00.000-07:00

People adapt to their enviroment, and changes to it. Memory is short.

As people who know me in the physical world know, I wear headphones quite a bit, and always at least have them around my neck. I like music.
For a long time, the brand of headphones I wore had a very long cord; ridiculously long. If I were to wear the headpiece, the cord would reach my shins.
I'm 6'4''.
This ridiculously long cord would often fan out from my body, and get caught on something without my noticing. When I moved forward, the wire would catch, stripping it, and leaving me with a pair of worthless headphones. Finally, after the 6th or so occurance over a year or two, I gave up, and handed my father two broken pairs; one had a broken earpiece, and one had a bad cord. The good headpiece and the good cord were spliced together by him since he's, you know, an electrician by trade. I had shortened the piece of cord I gave him so that it would be long enough to reach my ear from my pocket, but not have a huge dangling piece flapping around and catching on stuff.
I messed up, and the finished result was maybe half an inch shorter than planned. Just enough for the cord to tug on my ear if the pockets of the pants I was wearing was a little lower, or if I was walking up stairs, or anything like that. So I have a short cord, which is a perenial nuisance. I was used to a long cord, a cord so long I had to take special measures to keep it from catching on things.
Within 2 days, I was entirely accustomed to using the short cord.
And now, maybe a month? Two months later?
I can barely remember using a longer cord. I'm habituated to keeping the short cord in working order. Two years' habit, overturned in a month or two.

We adapt.

If you fall and scrape your knee when you're a child, memory of that pain fades.
Think back; maybe you ran into a tree, maybe you scraped your knee open and had to have the gravel picked out. It hurt, at the time; it hurt a lot.
Now? Now the pain is a memory, it's a legacy in your mind. It doensn't have the potency raw, screaming nerves have; it seems sedate, now. What were you crying about? It couldn't have hurt that much.

The mind adapts.

Hope is the idea that things will get better, or something good will happen.
I hope I'll get a bunch of money so I don't have to work while I go to college.

Hope is the gambler's fallacy. And we all gamble.

Have you ever gambled? You always think, "I'm gonna win." No one ever gambles thinking they'll lose? What would be the point?

We forget.

~

2006-04-25T12:06:00.000-07:00

I study people, constantly. It's a part of who I am, this endless observation

I stare at the person my bus driver is training. He is 50 or so, his hair gray and short, beginning to recede. He has wrinkles around his eyes, tight skin. He is wordless except to ask questions. My normal driver is harsh... No, not harsh, just blunt. I feel sorry for the trainee. He is old, in some ways, and yet just beginning something new. What could bring him here, that he has to take this seeming abuse from someone his age, maybe younger, maybe slightly older? What path does a life take, to be reft of dignity so? I wonder.
I do this often, this examining. It runs in the background of my mind, weighting, thinking, evaluating. In class, with the teacher doing nothing, as always, the students resent. I don't care, this class is old news for me.. Others care. Others want to learn; it's an honors class, these are honor students, they want to learn new things, and yet they don't, because their frustration with not being taught leads to more of this same thing. Not being taught. Their side, I can see. Her side, I can see. I always see both sides. It's an effort not to, and yet, seeing both sides is never good. No one wants to hear both sides, they want you to agree with them. So I say nothing, I laugh and say yeah, she so crazy.
I'm good at writing, but when it's something I need to say, I forget what it is. And I forget how to write
My head thinks in verse, dramatically, prosaically. Anger plays itself inside, I act out a play for my own benefit on the outside; no one is watching.
Who waits for me at the door?

Wish I was a better man
Wish I had a better plan for dealing with this
What am I
What am I to do now?

Maybe I should run away
Maybe I could run away and never be found
What am I
What am I to do?

The way that I'm feeling
The dreams when I'm dreaming
Can this really be happening
Can it really be true?
-Tiesto

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2006-04-23T21:28:00.000-07:00

BLOODY HELL

www.savetheinternet.com

MAKE IT STOP

Yay

2006-04-22T13:56:00.000-07:00

Vacation.

We are as shells

2006-04-04T19:34:00.000-07:00

We are as shells, all of us. We lie about how we are, how we feel, what we are. If a stranger walks up to your door selling swansons, do you tell him "No, that stuff is horrible"? No, you don't. That would be rude. What is rude? There is a line between rude and truthful, isn't there? Being rude is what, telling the truth in an impolite manner? What is politeness? It's the little lies we use to oil the machine, to keep the wheels of our culture turning. We all lie, in little ways. "How are you?" "Fine." People ask, and we say fine. We're not fine. No one is ever fine. But we say it anyway. We lie, day and night. We lie, and we grease the machine.

`

2006-04-02T21:23:00.000-07:00

Life is simple, in theory. Chemical bonds, electric nerve pathways. A doll is plastic, bonded together. Apply sufficent energy, be it kinetic, thermal, or any other, and it will break. If you apply enough kinetic energy, the bonds between atoms are broken, and two pieces are left. A head, and a body. But you can't go backwards: you can't undo. I can't hold that doll in my hands, and apply pressure, and have it all be better again. I can't hold that doll in my hands, and fix it. I'm powerless, impotent, before a child's doll. We all are. The strongest man alive, the smartest person alive.. combined, they are helpless before a broken doll. What can they do? It is shattered, beyond any fixing. A simple blow, and a life, a plastic life, is gone. Nothing can fix it. It can be patched, it can have new plastic slapped on, and it might look okay. It might seem to be whole again.
But the break remains. The doll isn't that doll anymore. It's gone forever.

YES

2006-04-01T20:22:00.000-08:00

http://thchub.hopto.org/zombievshumans/

YES

Eric, we've got to get in on this.

Cussin'

2006-03-28T13:38:00.000-08:00

Swearing has been offensive for a long, long time. If I call someone a bitch, they usually don't take too kindly to it. But why? If I called them a "female dog," I doubt I would get as harsh a reaction. The word itself has more implications than just the literal meaning. Take the word "fuck." It's used for far, far more than what it means; yes, it refers to sex, but people use it as an adjective, a noun, verb.. everything. And it's offensive, it's a swear word. People take umbrage when you use it; why? What's so potent about just the word, even when it's been stripped of its meaning? It's nothing special, people just regard 'dirty' words differently. The implication is that you're 'worked up' enough to break taboo.

I might continue this later if I remember it

Humor

2006-03-27T15:07:00.000-08:00

I find it harder and harder to find things funny, these days. Sure, the 'jokes' I crack with a few friends make me cackle, or giggle, or chortle, or whatever it's called, but there isn't much that makes me laugh when written, anymore. So much of written humor depends on the "Hey, I understand that reference!"type of humor; it's funny because you understand the reference behind it. For example, "Bill Clinton sure likes his tacos!" It's funny, because he was impeached for having sex while a president! HAHAHAHAH! Wait, no, it's not funny! It's a piece of shit referring to something I know about! It's also using the innuendo "tacos" to refer to the vagina! ROFL!!!
Almost everything I read that's supposed to be funny falls flat, because they rely on base-level humor. Innuendo, references... they're not that funny, people. Just because you know they're really talking about a vagina or Bill Clinton or whatever doesn't make whatever they said more humorous. You just feel rewarded because you "decoded" the joke, so you laugh. Or whatever, I'm not a fucking psychologist. But so much humor is derivative, overdone trash. Look at Garfield; not only do you have the cat doing something which could, in potentia, be funny, you also have him telling you what he's doing in the panel before, and then you have a 'witty' remark by him after he does it. Boy, he sure likes food! HAHA!
But picking on Garfield for being unfunny is a low blow to humor, I think.

But then, what is humor anyway? Why do we laugh at things? What makes things funny?
Most of the time when I see someone laughing in everyday situations, it's when someone gets hurt. If someone trips over a desk and does a split? People laugh! A fat woman slipping on ice and landing on her groceries? Omfg, lol! Why do we need to laugh at other peoples' pain? Are we just glad it's not us? That can't be it, can it? Once again, see my "not a fucking psychologist" point. But still, what makes things funny? I remember reading a short story by Isaac Asimov; basically, a recurring 'character' of his (A gigantic, world-spanning computer) was given numerous jokes, and asked where they came from. It was asked because the humans asking wondered where jokes actually came from. The computer concluded "outer space," and everyone suddenly lost their sense of humor as the aliens concluded their experiment, since it was no longer impartial (The humans knew about it). So, Asimov speculates humor comes from space aliens. Prehaps. A theory to keep in mind.
I make a lot of jokes myself, in my day-to-day life. Most of them are "aburdist" or "shock" jokes. To use a recent example, in an english class, someone sang a song about me. When asked to sing another song he had written about another classmate, he said "That one doesn't rhyme." I said, "The Mona Lisa didn't rhyme, man." Everyone thought it was hilarious. Why? What made it funny? If we break it down, it's funny because it breaks your preconceptions, and it's impossible- a painting can't rhyme, and a song is obviously not a painting. The two are the same basic artistic creation, but using very different mediums. Songs and rhyming are verbal, while painting is visual. Vastly different. So, by drawing a comparison between the two, I throw off your expectations. People usually find this funny. But why? What makes anything "funny"? Absurd things, delivered correctly- other people in pain (But not fatal, or very harmful; after a certain threshold, pain sparks an empathic reaction, and isn't funny anymore), references; a common line is hard to draw. What some people find funny, others find disgusting; rarely is there a common line to be drawn which everyone can agree is funny. In order for something to not 'offend' anyone at all, humor has to be come so bland it loses any punch it might have. So, the first rule of humor is it can't be liked by everyone. What do you call something which no one can really explain, and which has no agreed upon examples?
I don't know. But, food for thought.

As an aside, doing ANYTHING while listening to The Duke3d Theme Song becomes 500 times more awesome.

Aside #2: Wow, this is much longer than usual. Kudos to me.

Quick Phrase

2006-03-22T15:11:00.000-08:00

I was reading something, and the author commented that "people like to throw around phrases without thinking about what they actually mean." The one he was talking about was by Ben Franklin, which essentially says "Anyone who would trade liberty for safety deserves neither."
He said this was bunk, because everything in an organized society was trading liberty for safety, such as making murder illegal.
I was thinking about this, and a lot of what people say unthinkingly has the same kind of flaw. "No pain, no gain." Why do we have to be hurt to learn? It sounds good, and it rhymes, but it doesn't have any deeper meaning, unless you assign it to it. No pithy saying means shit to anyone unless they actually understand, and more importantly, use what it says. You can say "Go with the flow," but it's almost impossible to do; going with the flow is surrendering free will for a place in society. Surrendering your will doesn't sound as nice as 'going with the flow,' does it?
These little sayings are everywhere, and everyone uses them... but who actually understands what they're saying? Should I mold my life around what some dead person said, just because it sounds nice?

Many people, I've found, don't get a lot of things about life. They don't know why we're here, they don't know what they're going to do with their life, they want to know what their purpose is. And yet, they feel comfortable with voting.
Why? They don't understand the very foundation of our existence, but they can vote for a president? A president is supposed to represent your views, what you want done in the world... but what is that? What DO you want humanity to do? Do you know? If not, how can you vote?
WHY do you vote? Is the war more important to you than why humanity exists?
Obviously, very few people actually use this line of reasoning- it's impractical. Impracticality is a death knell for most things; if it doesn't do anything, why keep it?

My train of thought has been derailed by the rape van of distraction.

Repitive motion

2006-03-20T18:45:00.000-08:00

I was reading the webcomic Questionable Content, and I was wondering why I was enjoying the fact that the main male protagonist was, apparently, soon to enter into a relationship with one of the female leads. I was thinking about this, and then I realized why.
Well, there's two reasons actually.
The first is a combination of the simple enjoyment of a good plot twist, and the empathic enjoyment of a character I've grown to like finally making progress in the land of love.

The second is a little more complex.

If we look at most media today, there's a theme; repitition. One of the more enduring forms of television, the sitcom, takes repitition to the extreme; the same characters do essentially the same things over and over. The only thing that really changes is the nature of the "hi-jinks." But that doesn't just apply to television; comics are the same. The heroes do battle, and defeat evil. Maybe good suffers a setback; but we know, eventually, they're going to win out. No one wants to read a comic where the good guy is always getting his ass handed to him. But that's the problem; you have to revert back to the same essential storyline, and try to spice it up, make it feel a bit different. Scooby-Doo: they had a van, they solved mysteries. CSI: They had a serious looking SUV, they solved forensic mysteries. The same basic plot of the show remains the same. The same basic plot of the comic remains the same. Any serial work usually remains within set parameters; that original parameter won you an audience, and it's making you money. If you change, you risk losing that income, and that audience. Therefore, serial productions 'riff' on the same theme. Looking at Questionable Content again, for the majority of the comic, we see a theme; boy likes girl, girl doesn't seem interested. Any progress boy makes inevitably reverts back to the previous state of affairs, maybe with minor changes. There are numerous serial works with this basic theme; the denial of closure keeps people coming back, because they've come to empathize with the protagonists; they want them to hook up. But if the author does that, his audience isn't hooked by that premise anymore; their emotional catharsis has been reached. So now he's advanced his plotline into new territory, but his audience has left.
Obviously, this isn't how things always work out, but it's the usual 'worst case scenario' that people run through their mind when they think about change. Change isn't as easy as staying in a rut. When Questionable Content left the grounds of its former stasis, it broke out of its rut, and it rewarded its audience with the promise of a new emotional setting, and it offered them emotional catharsis through their protagonists.

Bravo.

What is romance?

2006-03-15T19:15:00.000-08:00

What is romance? The word is thrown about so often, and it's such a common thing. "Oh, that's so romantic!" Many of the actions have a common theme of showing consideration, but if I hold a door open while you've got your hands full with papers or whatever, is that romantic? Romance, then, must be applied to someone you have a romantic(there it is again) interest in. Romance is consideration plus romantic interest. Circular; it's romantic if there's already a romance. Is there something about love or dating or what have you that makes consideration more meaningful? Are we more sensitive to 'romantic' actions when we're dating?
Being an asexual, non-dating celibate, I don't have a bloody clue.

2006-03-14T16:55:00.000-08:00

I'm tired of serious stuff in here all the time!

Actually, I just think this is wicked awesome, so I'm slamming it in here.

This is in resposne to a post on a friends weblog where they're talking about their internship with a medical illustrator, and they have to make illustrations as a test or whatever, and she says she's going to do dart frog or platypus, saying "I have my reasons."

I responded with

SCENE: THE LUSH JUNGLES OF EARLY 18TH CENTURY SOUTH AMERICA

A young Jill Hoffman is seen striding through the forests, a crazed glint in her eyes as she hacks at underbrush with a machete.

Jill Fucking plants!

As Jill leaves behind a trail of wanton destruction, our view pans, and we see a small Dart Frog sitting on a tree limb, watching Jill craftily; We know it's craftily because he's doing that thing with your eyebrows you do when you're being sneaky (NOTE: Eyebrows artificially added to frog for expression purposes).

Jill Haha! Die you stupid tree!

Our brave Dart Frog grabs onto a vine, swinging down like Tarzan, but with more of a frog thing going on.

Dart Frog Haha! I'm going to get your hair all slimey!

Jill Jesus fuck! A talking frog!

The Dart Frog lands in Jill's hair, getting it totally slimey!
Terrified, Jill rams her head into a tree, trying to kill the Dart Frog!

Jill KHAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

The Dart Frog flees in terror!

Jill Curse you, you stupid frog thing! I'll have my revenge!

Covered in frog urine, Jill stumbles off into the jungle.

TWENTY YEARS LATER:

Jill I've been in this jungle for an implausibly long period of time!

Undeterred, Jill soldiers on, desperately trying to get home. Her trusty machete still in hand, she randomly hits things with it!
Unfortunately, it's incredibly dull after 20 years of hitting things, making her progress quite slow. As she crawls through the jungle, Jill hears something.

Mysterious Creature KER-KAW! KER-KAW!

Jill Oh no! The terrifying cry of the Duck-Billed Platypus! I'm a goner!

Terrified, Jill scurries through the underbrush as fast as she can.
Sadly, it is of no use; the Platypus races through the jungle with terrifying speed; Jill can hear the sizzling of its acidic breath as it speeds through the trail she painstakingly cut.

Platypus KER-KAW! KER-KAW!

Out of options, Jill falls to her knees, praying to her dark god, the Flying Spagetti Monster. A great, tomato-y light fills the forest, as noodley appendages rip through the foilage. A massive creature, unfathomable by mortal eyes, does battle with the Platypus.

Flying Spagetti Monster RUN JILL!

Tears dripping down her face at the thought of her loving god's sacrifice, Jill runs for safety.

Jill I'll have my revenge, Dart Frog and Platypus! Even if it's in a really obscure way in the distant future!

And that's why Jill wants to draw Dart Frogs and Platypi.

Meaning as determined by motion

2006-03-10T23:27:00.000-08:00

It's so easy to ascribe deeper meaning to your own actions.

Motivation

2006-03-06T17:27:00.000-08:00

What motivates you? What drives your thoughts? It's easy to point to something and say "I don't like this because of x." But that's usually wrong. That's just a conscious decision. I can say I don't like the Killers, but is that true? I listen to a song of theirs, and I think "Eww." But is that because I dislike their music? When I listen to it, I can't really point to anything in it and say "I don't like that part." Music criticism aside, I don't know what spawned this dislike. But I have a suspicion- I suspect it's because of the Killers notoriety. I read about them in a few forums I go to, and everyone is ragging on the Killers. Suddenly, I don't like the Killers anymore. I hadn't before, but I didn't hate them either. Now it's a little more extreme; others opinions shaded my view. It's easy to say you don't hold others opinions up too highly, but it's not really true. We're so influenced by the views of others; look at advertising. Business isn't stupid; if something doesn't work, they don't do it for very long. But look at advertising; most of them say "Most americans approve!" or something along those lines. Their advertising says people like our product. And it works. It has to works, or business wouldn't spend billions on advertisments based on that principle. Even advertisements themselves; no one says "Hey if I drink brand beer I'll get hot chix omg!," but people buy their product anyway.

It's all a matter of the mind, and you can't trust your own mind.

Worrying.

Recent times

2006-02-27T18:37:00.000-08:00

I've been studying my thought processes lately, and I realized something. All this talk about being lonely is just that- talk. I managed to convince myself I should be lonely, so I was. Artifical constructs, all of it. So much of what I am is. Sleep patterns; that's artifical. The mind plays tricks on you, when you avoid sleeping dusk to dawn. Memory resets itself; wake up at 3AM, and your morning feels like last night come noon. So much of what I feel comes down to me posturing for myself, being a drama whore to an audience of one. As entertaining as it can be, it should stop.

~

2006-02-18T20:49:00.000-08:00

Irony is everywhere, everywhere..

Thoughts

2006-02-17T21:12:00.000-08:00

There are times when I regret thinking

Whenever I sit down and think about my life, and about the world, I have to wonder why I bother to stay alive.

I find life pointless, because I'm an atheist, and because I don't believe in 'karma'
We're just sacks of meat, and sacks of meat don't have a higher purpose.

And I'm logical, too logical. All the human emotions that we cherish... logic tells us they're chemical reactions designed to make us do what is evolutionarily feasible. Make babies, be a reliable member of society. The only point of being alive is to keep being alive. Evolution is a harsh mistress; it doesn't just deny creation as religion defines it, it denies any meaning to life. If evolution is true, the ultimate purpose of any species is to remain alive. Nothing more.

This is why I hate thinking, sometimes. And why I hate being lonely, because it gives me so much time to think.

State of affairs

2006-02-16T12:01:00.000-08:00

I've felt odd, lately. Not a bad odd, just.. wondering what I'm doing with my life.

Right now, I'm not really doing anything.

And I feel so very alone doing it.

Fade to Black

2006-02-05T17:15:00.000-08:00

Fade to black as we begin the night
Everything's going to be just fine
You tell yourself it'll be ok
Now you wonder where you can stay

Sit around all day
Sit around all night
Sit around and stare
'Cause you don't know where
You should be

Sit around and wonder
Where your life should be

Stare at the sky and stare at ground
Stare at anything
'Cause when the eyes are working the mind is gone
And isn't that the point of this?

Aren't we trying to fade away
Make it all just go away
Aren't we going to find out what we're here for

Can we ever see the sky
When we can't see our own feet
Can we ever see the ground
When our heads are stuck up in the clouds

YES

2006-02-02T13:21:00.000-08:00

http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Author:H._P._Lovecraft

YES
YES
YES
YES
YES
YES

HAPPY

The Holocaust

2006-01-31T12:56:00.000-08:00

In my english classes (All 3 of the bloody things) we're reading Elie Wiesel's Night.
First off, that book is not that great. He whines about losing his God, and how horrible it was..
Other people were there longer, and he reclaims his faith in God at the end for no apparent reason.

That aside.

I'm tired of the Holocaust. Every year, every class, it's mentioned. We do units on it.
I know all about the Holocaust. I've thought about the Holocaust. It's saddening, it's interesting, it's thought provoking.
But only for so long. No matter how terrible it was, there comes a point where familiarity breeds contempt. I don't really care much about the Holocaust anymore. I've heard the same things about it year after year, and at this point it's just another annual subject in a class for me. Any interest I had in it has been beaten out of me by years of endless repitition.

For fuck's sake, enough with the Holocaust, educators. Give me a break.

Purpose

2006-01-31T12:54:00.000-08:00

I was reading a friends' weblog, and I realized something; I've changed what I use this for. Beyond my self-censorship is a change in intent; rather than writing because I need to write sometimes, I feel an obligation to put something up and entertain people, or make them think.
Not what this is for.

~

2006-01-30T01:43:00.000-08:00

Do you dream
With your head on the pillow
Sighing your cares away

Fifty men on the platform
All of them pointing at you
They glare and they stare
And they fade away
It was just a dream

Stumble about 'cause you don't know what
Where should you be
Who should you know
Is your life worth living?

Taking a stroll
Finding a train
Meeting you there in the rain
We laughed and danced
And held hands and ran
And we fade away
It was just a dream

Stand in the rain
Dripping and shamed
And wonder what happened to you
Look to your left
Look to the sky
Fall to the ground and cry.

Existence

2006-01-30T01:40:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking about existence lately.
Ultimately, everything corporeal is pointless.
If you get lots of money and buy a fleet of cars, good for you- you’re going to die anyway. Death is the answer to every question, and a lot of human thoughts revolve around it. Religion is entirely a product of death as soon as science enters the screen. Before then, it was around to explain natural events with no known cause- lightning, meteors, stars, and, basically, everything. Gods were also the gatekeepers of death; having created everything, they ushered it out as well.
Atheism as a popular concept, then, is a relatively new phenomenon. It’s spawned from science, because science provides an alternative to the “The Gods Did It” argument.
Atheists aren’t uncommon these days.

I seem to have strayed off-topic.

Everything is pointless; a hard concept to wrap your head around. Our lives are centered on things having a purpose; we are good people in life so we can have a swank afterlife. We work jobs to earn money, because money does things for us; it gives us a house, and buys us food, and toys. But… even before we had money, there was food. And houses aren’t necessary for every lifestyle. And you can make a toy out of a stick, deer ligament, a rock, and some bark (For a crude cup and ball, see). But we have money, and we have toys and food and houses. But if we can make all of those without money, what purpose does money have? As a medium of exchange, yes, but what are we exchanging? Specialization exists so that a person can perform one task, and still be adequately compensated in other areas. So, a farmer can still have toys, and a toy maker can still have food. All well and good. But, why not have the farmer give food and get toys? Why create this elaborate medium of exchanged? Perhaps because the two live far apart, and need a middle man. So, we have a middle man taking a cut of the food and doing the exchange- a crude courier. But why do we have a farmer and a toy-maker in the first place? A single person, living alone, can feed themselves, given a small amount of expertise- and even without it; starvation is a powerful motivator. Instead, we have a farmer; he works all day, carefully tending crops. It’s exhausting work, and it takes all of his time. And we have a toy maker; he works all day, carving toys. It’s painstaking work, and it takes all of his time to make enough toys to trade for enough food to eat.

And we have the house builder; it takes all of his time to make enough houses to trade for food and toys.

And we have the accountant; it takes all his time to keep the books balanced, and those TPS reports coming.

And we have the waiter; it takes all his time to wait tables to make money to buy food, and housing, and toys, unless he’s got other money.

And we have the journalist; it takes all his time to research, interview, and write his articles so he can get money.

Every job is about making money, essentially. Those jobs that are for ‘enjoyment’ still serve the overall purpose-

Jobs are a distraction. Plain and simple.
Religion is a distraction. Plain and simple.

Almost everything in Western culture (I can’t speak for other cultures, being a filthy American) is all about distracting us from the pointlessness of our lives. We should be good people and do our jobs, because that’ll get us into Heaven.
You know, even people who win lots of money keep working? Millionaires who could live EXTREMELY well on what they have keep making money. They won’t do anything with it; they just have to keep doing something. No one in our society is comfortable with free time in more than moderate doses. Everything enjoys the odd vacation, but after enough time they get bored, and they have to do something. We’re derisive about people with too much free time; we’re suspicious of them. They aren’t being distracted.

And what do we do with our money?
We buy toys.

Distractions.

Alphabet Soup

2006-01-27T15:18:00.000-08:00

I identify with this song so much.

Alphabet Soup

Speaking in tongues with alphabet soup
Procedural shows in the mid-afternoon
Does everyone know what they came here to do
But me, oh no not me
The book that shines underneath my sheets
Is all I need

Walking the dog, searching for signs
I must have been born with an ingrowing mind
The light of the fair shivers and slides
All over suburban homes
Strangers sharing the world alone
What plan, what goal

Well, it's my fault that you don't listen
Trade me in for a new condition
I'm alright, it's the world that's spinning
Left alone, all things will sicken

If I could unlearn all that I know
I'd see my life reversed
Watch the blessings grow from curses
Why should I change
To suit a pointless world

It's my fault that you don't listen
Trade me in for a new condition
Let me draw my own confusions
Knowledge leads to self-delusion

Swept awake by the frigid morning
Caught by the bus as the day is yawning
Crawl to work and die at my desk
Least they'll say I didn't die in bed

Filler Title

2006-01-25T19:47:00.000-08:00

It's a little sad to realize that no one in my school actually knows me. But, it's to be expected I suppose. I'm secretive, and I never tell anyone about myself. Even this weblog here is censored.

Whut an enigma!

In lieu of actual thought;

2006-01-24T17:27:00.000-08:00

Before the War

When we lost the human race
All our brains got replaced
And these robots never laugh
At my jokes
So take me back, before the war
And take these things - they're all yours
There is nothing
Nothing worth fighting for

You stole my drugs, crashed my car
But you left no lasting scars
Retribution slipped so soft, like a blade
We blew it up, knocked it down
But never tried giving ground
Now there's nothing left of love
But what I saved

I get tired winning games
When the pieces never change
And all the clever moves you make
Seem so tame
And you can sulk if you want, but don't you wonder
What's the point
When there's nothing left of love
Worth sulking for

And did you cry when you left me
Another year older, the world on my shoulders
And I'm still no closer
To finding a girl who won't bore me to tears
Not here
There's nothing worth fighting for, no
Don't remember what I did
Before the war

2006-01-20T12:49:00.000-08:00

Tethers

There are stars in her hair
She is sad and she is fair
And I feel her filling up my future
We will try, try our best
Not to end up like the rest
If she cries, I will soothe her

But what's the use?

When my kids disown me
And when she has outgrown me
At last I'll see
There can be no victory
You and I forever
Tangled in our tethers

Pile on the years
She is hungry, she is fierce
And our love is the yoke around her shoulders
And this house that we found
Has become our battleground
As we dine on our scissors and stones

When our faith deserts us
And when our hope just hurts us
At last we'll see
There can be no victory
You and I forever tangled in our tethers
Choking on the end of the line

Won't anybody answer?

When your kids disown you
And when she has dethroned you
Then come with me
For a glass of sympathy
All of us together, tangled in our tethers
Crying, I still love her
Though I'm quite sick of her
And this is all I knew I'd ever get
From her

Vivas Morte.

2006-01-19T18:27:00.000-08:00

There has been scandal in Washington of late.. Or so I am told. I don't follow the news anymore. None of it ever seems to change; celebrities go on being famous, and politicans go on being corrupt. People are poor, people are mean, people are nice. The news is always the same; why bother watching it? There's nothing I can do about it... or at least, there's nothing I want to do about it. Do I care, if someone three towns over gets shot?
No, not really. I didn't know them, I didn't even know someone who knew them. Just another dead person, in a world of billions. And, really, do we care about people we don't know?
Most of us don't, you know. We say "Oh, that's too bad," and we move on with our lives. We aren't that torn up, we don't spend a week in bed, striken with grief.

But someone else is. That dead person? They were a mother, they were someone's wife. They mattered to many people, and they're all very sad. Why aren't you? Are you callous? Don't you care that Mike's mom is dead, that Paul's wife is dead? That the woman who meant so much to them is dead, gone, forever dust? No, you don't really care. You feel sympathy, pity- the emotions of someone on the outside looking in. You don't really feel it, because it doesn't make difference to you. A thousand more could die, scattered all over the country. In fact, they do. They're dying right now. They're lying on the pavement, their brain leaking out of their cracked skull, their car a shattered hulk some 10 feet from them. Do you feel bad for them?
No. They're just a statistic. In a world as large as ours is, we can't care about everyone. If we did, nothing would ever get done. We'd all be too busy grieving. So we put on our 'sad face' when we hear about it, and then we get back to work, or play, or whatever we were doing. Because it was just a statistic that died.

It wasn't a person. Just a statistic.

The Bargain

2006-01-18T19:53:00.000-08:00

I was reading the Chronicals of Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever (by Stephan R. Donaldson, great author, great fantasy series), and in the books, Covenant makes a bargain with himself, and the Ranyhan, which are, to butcher them, 'magic horses.' And he makes another bargain, to try and deal with the world he finds himself in.

And we all do that. We all make little bargains to make the world and ourselves get along. We all make a bargain to act 'normally' and be polite, and not murder each-other. A bargain with existence, with society. We trade something, and recieve acceptance into the whole in return. We bargain away our spontaneity, cage it up in what is proper, put on our polite social masks; masks again, they show up everywhere- and we coexist. For our bargains.. are they worth it? Do I want to be accepted in society because of my bargain, because I made a trade? My free-wheeling thought for their social acceptance? Is the bargain worth it? In human society, we define ourselves by our bargains. If we trade alone time for company, if we trade solitude for mongamy, we call it marriage- if we trade free time for cash, we call it a job. Our society builds up around bargains, and makes more- to survive, humans need shelter from the extremes of the elements, food; simple stuff. And yet, we have cell phones. We have televisions. Entertainment, we call them. Keeping in touch. Bargains, once again. We trade time to think for thoughts made by others.
Are the bargains worth it? Sometimes, we think, they are. We like our cell phones, our computers, our televison, so we barter free time for cash, our medium of exchange. We try and strike that balance, trading some free time for stuff, keeping the rest to enjoy the stuff in.
And we make personal bargains; "Finish this paper and you can have ice cream!" Bargains, bargains bargains. A free exchange is rare, ever so rare. The friends I have where I live? I barter humor for sociability, I barter jokes for acceptance. That is my social bargain. No one knows much, but that's ok; life is skin deep at this point.

What's your bargain? What have you traded away, and what did you get back?
Do you trade your body for acceptance, are you an athlete?
Do you trade your mind for success, are you a scholar?

Do you trade your soul for company?

Stuff I don't like (Some of it. We don't have all day.)

2006-01-17T18:18:00.000-08:00

I dislike small talk. I have for some time now, and hearing it just makes me a little angry. Think about small talk. What is it? It's filling an "uncomfortable silence." What makes silence uncomfortable? Are you uncomfortable when you are alone? Do you talk to yourself to dispell that awkward silence? No, of course not. That would be insane. And yet, people feel as though they are obliged to fill any silence that appears with a mindless drone about the weather, about how "BITTER COLD!" it is, anything that strikes their mind. It doesn't matter how inane it is, they just can't bear silence. Why is that? What is it about us that demands conversation, even when there is nothing to talk about? Is there some flaw that only silence reveals? Why does it have such power to discomfort? I cannot say I know the answers, because I am fairly comfortable with silence. I value it, because silence can be soothing.

I also hate phones. It's a little device that lets others reach into your house or conversation or whatever else you are doing and disrupt it entirely, even for the most trivial of matters. It magnifies the importance of the caller beyond their actual value.

Also I can't type today and this post took like twice as long as it usually does because I keep making mistakes.

Masks

2006-01-11T19:03:00.000-08:00

Masks have a sort of universal appeal; super-heroes wear them, bank robbers wear them- in many cases, when you find things above and beyond the ordinary, you find a mask. But why wear a mask? With super-heroes and bank robbers, a mask is to protect the 'secret' identity; preserve the face behind the mask from being tainted by the outside. So they go through life with two selves; the outside of the mask, and the inside. Even if they are not wearing the mask, in a way, they are; just the memory of being masked, that rush of power, of being anonyomous, above the crowds... it's addictive, it leaves its mark. Masks work on us because we want to escape ourselves. No one wants to be an accountant and file TPS reports, but we all do it. So few of us live out what were our dreams when we were young; they were 'unrealistic', 'unachievable', and so we settled. We became an accountant, and filed TPS reports. But, why were our dreams unrealistic? Why can we not be astronauts, or cowboys? Prehaps because the 'need' for these does not exist.. but can we truely say that? If the entirety of humanity decided not to settle for TPS reports and cover sheets, would the stars be denied us? Science fiction is dedicated to this, the idea of reaching out to the universe with massive ships; they have cold-sleep and hyperdrives and massive colony ships, all dedicated to reaching the other worlds, and populating them, spreading mankind- obeying our most basic drive, the drive to spread. But, masks don't always work. People file TPS reports, people work at jobs they supposedly hate. They strike down the unfamiliar, and cling to routine. The drive to spread falters, and becomes the drive to get the kids to soccer practice. I cannot speak for the world, but I can speak for the United States; we lack ambition. We lack drive.
Prehaps we seek money, but what is money? Money represents things. Money represents more stuff, more things. Get enough money, and money is power. But, power over what? Over the people who drone back and forth from work and home? Masks give us power because they catapault us out of all of this; when you wear a mask, you become what it is, and you can say to yourself, "I am above that now. I am something more." Anonyimity gives you power, because it seperates you from the masses; it's a different kind of anonymous, an anonymity of the body, rather than the soul. When the body is different, the mind can follow; the same bodies trap the minds in same thoughts.

Is it bad..

2005-12-06T14:05:00.000-08:00

That I hate most holidays?

To start, I don't get the point of Thanksgiving. I don't like stuffing myself, and I don't really like my extended family on my mothers side (the only one which is in one place and can thus be visited), and the prospect of being around them for 5+ hours makes me nervy.

That, and Christmas music drives me NUTS. I can't STAND the stuff. I want to gouge out my ears. "HAVE A HOLLY JOLLY CHRISTMAS!" "ROCKING AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE!" "BLAH BLAH BLAH CHRISTMAS!"

It drives me nuts. Here it is, 20 days before the bloody event, and the radio is already cranking endless holiday trash. ARGH. ARGH. ARGH.

Pet peeve, nothing to see here.

-

2005-10-27T12:04:00.000-07:00

He stood behind the stage, his mind a-twitter, thoughts flitting around his skull. This was it- his chance, his moment.

His destiny.

He had prepared for many long years, training himself, perfecting himself. Now, he was smooth as silk. He was like a mighty river- unstoppable, yet still as glass. He turned, his face set in a charismatic smile, his dazzling teeth glinting in the bright floodlights. Reporters stood before him now, their faces set in the easy grin of the hunter.

No, not the hunter. The jackal. The carrion bird.

But he was ready, raw charisma as he spun his verbal nets, catching them in a web of eloquence and lies, drawning them in, because they wanted to be.

He heard his moment arrive; turning, he went to meet his destiny.

He walked onto the stage, his brain screaming, exultant. This- this! It was everything. It was all that he strove for his life, his existence wrapped around a room, a single room, filled with the grins of reporters, stinking of their hunger.

But he was ready. He spoke, a whirling deluge of eloquent nothings. His mind raced, drawing on all he was, all he had become. He was unstoppable, in truth- he could not be turned aside, he could not be lessened. His eloquence was beauty itself, his words were life. He spoke, and people were brought to their knees, inside their heads. He was a force of nature, his flowing magic enthralling the room. Words flowed like lightning through his mind, exploding out of his lips like lava, potency incarnate. The room was his, and he was at last-

Awake. He stirred with a groan, a febrile mutter.
Mute.
Blind.
Crippled.

He could not move, he could not speak beyond a tortured, guttural grunt; his self-loathing personified. His blind eyes stared into the endless dark he lied in, and wept bitter tears.

On Bureaucracy (Originally intended to be sent to the administration of my school)

2005-10-20T18:51:00.000-07:00

The most important part of becoming adult, to a student, is the perceived freedoms one receives upon this occasion. Thus, the paramount thing a student will strive for, in a school environment, is the seizure of this freedom. Speaking from personal experience, I have found that I’ve grown to resent the strictures placed upon me for reasons of legality. I know exactly what I am doing- I don’t think of the school as being responsible for my actions. Thus, the two views collide, for legally the school is responsible for my actions, and my safety. Therefore, it restricts my actions so that it is seen as doing its duty.

This is wrong. This system is in place because of some, and it affects all.
The United States, during World War 2, imprisoned thousands of citizens, merely because they were of Japanese descent. This is no different, but instead of race, age is used. Are all people the same? No, of course not- no one thinks this. And yet, we are treated the same- the student who has not been trouble once in eight years is restricted just as much as the student who skipped school for a month. Both are required to report to one place before they can leave for another- why? Computerization exists- how difficult would it truly be to set up a console where students signed into the library, or the computer room? Yes, the possibility for fraud exists- but it always exists; as long as there is a system, it will be abused. But with this computerized system, study hall teachers no longer waste 10 minutes shipping people to the library, the library no longer has to have a blanket five people per study hall because they’re full, and students don’t have to waste time walking back and forth between a classroom they leave every day and the place where they do their work. In this society that so values efficiency, what is wrong with this idea? And it is but one among many- perhaps students have a card, which must be signed by a teacher every block, and they hand it in to a teacher at the end of the day. Possibilities exist- the student who is not allowed to leave his study hall is flagged when he signs in the library, or the student who is not allowed to enter the computer room is locked out when he tries to log on. It can be done, and cheaply- we have the resources to do so now. Not only will students no longer be subjected to the pointless busy-work inherent in signing in and out and out and in, getting passes signed and walking all around- fewer study hall teachers will be required. This gives them more time to prepare for classes, and it frees up money needed to not only put in place this system, but to hire more staff for the library, which is desperately understaffed; considering how many students enter every day- 250- two people is a woefully inadequate staff.

After this long diatribe, you may still be wondering why anyone bothered to write it.
The answer is simple; bureaucracy is pointless, and wasteful. Students are dismissed from the library 10 minutes before the end of the block. Why? Because they complained about being released too late, and not getting back to study hall before the end of the block. So now everyone has to leave early. Why? Because a few made excuses, and the rest were punished for it, because the bureaucracy cannot acknowledge the differences between individuals. Throughout school, our individuality is emphasized- we are all our own people, we have our own ideas, we are unique and special. And yet, the words are refuted by the actions. Everyone is punished for the actions of a few, at every turn- a class with a few people acting up is forced to do paperwork for the rest of the class, or a few seniors using privileges to skip study hall means the rest cannot leave the building. If we are so different, why are we not treated so?

2005-10-18T17:56:00.000-07:00

Note to self- write thingie on how people like sunny days because it's connected with good crops and such.

To the person I am writing this to:

2005-10-06T18:49:00.000-07:00

Post-scriptum

2005-10-04T11:56:00.000-07:00

It's always interested for me to go back and read what I write in the depths of my alter-ego. He has insight, and yet it is a weak and faded kind- he doesn't seem to realize the things that drive me forward, and so he is directionless and wan. Fascinating, and yet, scary. I know he is within me, and I am him, and he is me- and yet even by talking about him as a seperate beast, when we are the same person, is a bit creepy. I know I don't have multiple personality syndrome- it's not another person, it's another facet of myself- but it still irks me that I can be so... 'goth'. Needless to say, I am not always so depressing.

I had something I was going to write about but I forgot what it as.

I am obliged

2005-10-03T18:47:00.000-07:00

The laws of the interweb demand I post this, so here it is:

1. I can't believe you don't watch movies (or very many).
2. Song: Flock of Seagulls---"I Ran" Movie: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (It's the only movie you've showed any interest in)
3. I'm not sure about this one---maybe snow flavored. I do believe you said you like the cold.
4. The Fuzzy TV People of DOOM!
5. Well, my best one was that AWESOME AIM convo we had that one night. It was CRAZY cool. I still have it saved.
6. Puppy---HYPER.
7. Are we ever going to meet?

Bleh.

2005-10-02T21:22:00.000-07:00

Once again, I have neglected my little weblog for weeks at a time. Another project, left by the wayside.

In a way, I am complacent. I don't make any preparation for college. I don't think about it. I never think about any long-term projects- I do what must be done in the moment, and forget about it once it is done. I seem to take it for granted that once I graduate from high school, I'll go to some college, get a degree... but I never consider the effort it will take to actually get into a college. I have mediocre grades- nothing horrible, but nothing to make me outstanding. I'm smart, I'm personable, but neither of these things are on paper, because I lack long-term commitment to a goal. Numerous times I will start something, like a book, or a weblog, or anything, and I'll work on it for a few days... and then abandon it, because I can't stick to a goal. I just cannot do it. And it frustrates me, because I am still, at heart, childish- I want the rewards without the work that goes into them.

And I can't ever discuss with anything except myself the truth of what I am. As soon as any medium is involved, I become manipulative- I act gothic, playing for pity and attention. I had written a paragraph or so about how I lie to myself- but I am accustomed to my lies, they are part of who I am. Even this aside of how I am maniupulative is manipulative- I'm playing up how I am strong enough to fight off my manipulative side. I am two people, and they fight each other. One is cold, logical, asexual- he is strong, unbending, but unemotional. He has no friends, he hates being around other people, he loathes small talk; he is frigid, but he is strong because of it. And the other is whiny, lost in a morass of wanting pity and being stupid and trying to tell the other half it's wrong and you need to reach out and make friends. And the two are at war, and I can't make them stop anymore. And so now I'm manipulative again, because I'm acting like I'm in a desperate struggle and I need help and maybe it's you oh maybe you should help the poor guy, but that's not it. The two are in a wordless conflict, not of violence, but of which has dominance at any one moment. And usually both win out, and they combine and I am more manipulative than ever.

Why is it that I am such an ass to people, and yet at times can be incredibly charming? I say I am cold, and yet I am sympathetic, I help strangers, I give people what I can. (manipulative!)

I can't keep writing this.

Ash, I'm sorry for saying nothing to you for weeks.
Gwen, I'm sorry for not even looking at your weblog for weeks.

And no one else ever reads this, so that's that.

Upon the nature of modern American society.

2005-09-05T22:21:00.000-07:00

Have you ever burst into song? It sounds Disney-movie, doesn't it?
Have you ever sang along with the radio in front of people? Of course not! That's just.. not done! It's silly!

In my school last year, a black man came, and did a thing with us. He had drums, and we did African chants. And almost no one sang along with him. Everyone sort of mumbled quietly- only a few of us actually sang. He commented on this- "It's so hard to get kids to sing in America- when I'm in Canada, everyone sings right along."

Why is this? What is it about us that restricts this opening of our throats? I live in a rural area, and there's no one around most of the time. And yet, I have had a hard time singing to myself- it was an effort for a long time. And to this day, I can't scream. I can be alone in the house, with no one around for a mile- but I can't scream. I physically can't open my throat enough to do it. I am hampered, restricted; psychologically impotent. Almost everyone is limited in some respect to their louder vocal efforts- it's discouraged in American society. Only beggars sing in the street, and they're doing it for money. If you sing to yourself in a store, you're looked at oddly. Being musically outspoken is discourages. From a young age, children stop singing. After maybe 4th grade, they're 'too old' for it. People are shy about it, people are reticent about it- but one way or another, they don't do it. Why? What is it about us that discourages us so? Being musical is a way to clean your soul- you can open your mouth and let out all the bitter emotions you bottle up all day. It's cleansing, relieving- but almost no one does it. Are we so closed that we can't allow ourselves release? Why are we this way? We work more than any other first-world country- we have no siesta, people work during lunch, and no one plays. Everything is deadly serious. What is it about us that does this? Why are we so driven?

Try it. Sing out loud in front of people. It's incredibly embarassing, even though in other societies it's encouraged. I've done it before, and it feels wrong. I don't know why. I like to sing- I take walks and sing to myself most nights, these days. I have a good singing voice, and I'm not incredibly concerned with other peoples' opinions with me- but I still feel shame. Why?

GAHAINGHERGHER

2005-08-08T13:09:00.000-07:00

Watching a DVD you've been transcoding have a random memory error and crash, after 5 hours, blows.

Having it happen 3 times sucks.

FUCK YOU NERO

Dreaming

2005-08-05T22:29:00.000-07:00

Over the past two nights I've been having what is, basically, the same dream.

Except, instead of the normal "same dream" thing where it's the same dream repeated, it's the same dream... continued.

Not only that, from what I can recall, the dream was.. not weird and crazed like most dreams. If I went to a different place, I dreamed I was traveling for a while.

It was a nice dream. I hope it keeps up.

Complexity in Simplicity.

2005-08-03T11:19:00.000-07:00

I want a simple life.

I think everyone does, really. Complex ambitions don't hold up.
Eventually, it all boils down to a job you want (go capitalism- we all must work!!!), a nice house in a place you like, a wife/husband, kids, whatever.

Simple.

And yet, it's not simple at all. To get the job, you have to get the education. To get the education, you have to pay money- you have to work to earn the privelage of working. A simple embrace with your spouse isn't simple- there are layers of emotions, past grivances, shared memories, love, annoyance, everything- all in one hug. Everything mixes up with everything else, and nothing goes like you plan and nothing works. But we still stay attached to that idea of the simple existence, even though life cannot ever be simple, will not ever be simple- because making life simple means taking away choices, freedom, varity, life.

There are so few things I want, and I'm already qualified- in actuality, if not diploma-wise- to have them. And yet, I won't get them for years. I want someone to cuddle up to at night, but I won't find someone for years. I want to edit, but instead I have to go through an educational system learning things I have no intention of using, no matter how interesting or dull I find them. Life is never simple.

And I wish it was, sometimes.

Meh.

2005-07-27T16:54:00.000-07:00

Sorry about the lack of updating. I don't really have much to talk about these days.

WoW has been fun.

Too bad I have to pay for it soon.

Nosferatu

2005-07-03T18:33:00.000-07:00

I am fire,
I am soul,
I am power beyond your control.
I am the terror in the night
You run before me and scream in fright.
My legs pump as I chase you down
My lips curve in a bloody frown
And I leap at you without a sound.
You swing at me with desperate panic
Your blows grow ever more frantic.

A shaft of light strikes the forest,
Bathing everything in peaceful warmth,
The comforting glow like a blanket around your shoulders.
The gentle light caresses your face,
And a light rain begins to fall,
The whole forest lighting up in the mist;
Sunlight dances amongst the dew-kissed leaves.
A graceful deer leaps, bounding from place to place.
A badger trundles along, grumbling as his fur dampens.

Job!

2005-06-30T08:47:00.000-07:00

I have a minimum-paying job for the next week, and started work Wednesday. Hey, I need a new case and hard drive. What's a lad to do? My computer is a mighty 350 mhz, but I have the interweb, and thanks to my iPod I have all my bookmarks, and Fiyafox. Life is semi-decent. I'm basically a receptionist, but for a business that gets maybe 5 calls a day, and maybe a visitor that isn't UPS. I'm the only one here, mostly, since my father is at a job site, and his boss is on vacation. Their usual 70+ years old 'secretary' who works for free is out with a broken hip, so I'm here while dad's boss is out, since they need someone to take calls, and Bill (boss guy) usually does it when paw is on a job site, when old lady is out.

Complex, and yet, not.

GODS I AM SO BORED.

The place in which I live.

2005-06-22T15:02:00.000-07:00

My house!

The creek which is near my house!

I took more photos, but studies show I suck at taking pictures. I took 9 just to get two that weren't blurry.

My name is Tyler, and I'm a Whose Line? junky.

2005-06-19T19:24:00.000-07:00

I'm taking my drivers test this Tuesday. Wish me luck.

The walls were cool porcelain, the white tiles radiating chill. They were sterile, emotionless.

Thomas liked them. They reminded him of home.

He lurched down the stairwell, absent-mindedly grasping the slender railing with his right hand, stumbling down each step. His mind wandered as his body mechanically naviagated down the stairs, as he remembered what things were like before. It almost seemed like another life, the past. He sighed when he reached the railing, and shook his head. Those days were gone. Best not to remember them. An orderly in a tidy, starched white uniform walked by him, nodding casually.

They didn't fool Thomas. He knew they watched him. He grabbed the railing as he nearly crumpled, slowly straightening up, weaving back and forth. With a groan, he half-fell down the last flight of stairs, asthmatically panting once he reached the bottom. He walked with a jerky shuffle, his lame leg dangling worthlessly behind the other. The knuckles clenched around the handle of his long, thin metal cane were white with effort, condensation beading on the cool, silvery shaft. He cried out, a short, sharp bark of sound, his lame, malformed leg spasming. It danced, or so it seemed, cramping up only to jerk out straight once more. Thomas fell to the floor, his body curling up in agony.

The orderly in his white uniform rushed up, a syringe in his hand. With practiced motions, he held Thomas down, the silvery needle in his hand jabbing into his thigh with easy skill. In seconds, Thomas felt cool relief spread up his leg, bathing his body in relaxation.

As he realized what had happened, he began cursing in a low, empty voice.

"They got me too..."

Little house on the highway

2005-06-02T19:28:00.000-07:00

This munificent publication has a twofold purpose this eveningtide. First, and foremost, it is to encourage, urge, our readers to gently direct, if it is not too much of a bother, their web 'browsers' to the location on the 'interweb' known as http://www.spinnwebe.com/media/older.mp3
Upon arriving at this location, those who are using the brower known as "IE" will be asked to open or save the file, while those using "Firefox" may see it as an item on an otherwise blank page, or prehaps be given the option to open or save it, depending on the magnamity of their 'browser.'

Secondly, the astute author/editor/publisher of this esteemed publication would like to announce a stunning revelation to the vast throngs that adhere to his every word.
He has discovered the source of internet slang. Long-held beliefs of ease of use and laziness have been dashed aside by the speeding ship of knowledge, as discovered by the exceedingly wise creator of this edifying weblog.

The source of internet slang is...
Tiny decorative bike 'license plates.'

That's right. Because they have to fit witty, biting phrases onto these tiny little plates - and have them be legible from more than 2 feet - the creators of these little plastic doodads were forced to create a sort of shorthand, pidgin language to fit in this unique location. It was there; now it only remained for it to be found.
Its discovery by AOL kiddies was inevitable- these dancing trolls, impressed with even the most shoddy of dye-jobs, could not help but be fascinated by this bold, new language. Eagerly mimicing it, they sent it to heights of illegibility undreamed-of by the progenitors.

This has been an LEPRECHAUN publication- view with discretion.

I am not depressed, dammit!

2005-05-30T13:11:00.000-07:00

What is it about the mind that makes it cling to life when life should have long been over? People want immortality, eternal youth, life after death- they want to keep alive. Why? What is so special about life that we cling to it so? People who cut their wrists will stop and call 911 once they realize they're really dying- even though that's what they wanted. Life could be boring, bland, flavorless- uneventful and lonely, and yet people would still struggle to not die. Why? Is death so terrible? What is it about dying, aging, becoming old, that terrifies us so? Is it because we don't want to die, or because it is change, the unknown- a leap of faith we are forced to take, even if we don't have faith? I try to create a picture, to put my thoughts to canvas, and yet I cannot- as I try to paint, the very act becomes false, a structured attempt of the mind. And yet, when I wasn't thinking about it, when I wasn't trying, I made the one piece of art that I actually like, that I thought was good. I'm not an artist, and yet I was proud of what I made. Prehaps we are all the children of the mind.

In which the author uses a dry, intellectual tone in a desperate attempt to remedy his crippling idiocy.

2005-05-23T18:28:00.000-07:00

I visited my uncle this last Friday- man, I would kill for his laptop. It has a bigger display than my desktop computer, and it's nearly as nice in the power department. Alas, I am but a poor man. He is moving to Florida at the end of May, so probably won't visit him much any more (Lived in Pennsylvania 'till the move).

In other news, the unstoppable juggernaut of flip-flop wearing has begun. 35 degree rainy weather? Who cares! It's technically spring, whip out them 'flops! They seem to make me chipper, oddly enough.

Pondering whether or not I should just wait to rent Star Wars episode 3 and watch it then, or actually go to the theatre and watch it. Probable winner: the one that doesn't involve a movie theatre.

You know, when I look at the sporadic posting that goes on at this literary establishment, I want to apply it to my overall mentality. I often start grandoise projects, and never finish them. If it takes longer than a week or so, I generally tend to lose interest, and never finish the project. I am perfectly capable of writing a book, and have started to several times. However, after a certain point, I stop, and never write in it again. I've done this two or three times. I suspect it has something to do with my more adolescent thought process- I like to imagine the end result, carefully skipping over the hard work that preceedes it. This particular experiment has lasted longer than others, but most likely that's because it is non-mandatory, and the timeline for it is stretched out over a long period of time. Also, each entry takes a relatively short time to type- for example, at this point in my writing I've spent maybe 5 minutes typing this out. Since it's free-flow thought, I didn't spend any time thinking it out, so that's a very short time for creation, literarily speaking.

I've been reading "Dragons and Eden" by Carl Sagan, which is an excellent, if dated (Pub. 1977) book on the evolution and functionality of the human brain. He has many excellent insights, which have helped me get a grasp on how, at least somewhat, the brain functions. I reccomend it wholeheartedly.

(The book is probably why my vocabulary is wildly more advanced than what I usually use in this place- he has a very advanced vocabulary, and reading his work has put me in a more advanced writing mindset.)

2005-05-14T06:29:00.000-07:00

My deviant art account.
Made it for kicks.

2005-05-07T20:16:00.000-07:00

Frederic Henry Hedge -

Questionings

Hath this world, without me wrought,
Other substance than my thought?
Lives it by my sense alone,
Or by essence of its own?
Will its life, with mine begun,
Cease to be when that is done,
Or another consciousness
With the self-same forms impress?

Doth yon fireball, poised in air,
Hang by my permission there?
Are the clouds that wander by,
But the offspring of mine eye,
Born with every glance I cast,
Perishing when that is past?
And those thousand, thousand eyes,
Scattered through the twinkling skies,
Do they draw their life from mine,
Or, of their own beauty shine?

Now I close my eyes, my ears,
And creation disappears;
Yet if I but speak the word,
All creation is restored.
Or--more wonderful-- within,
New creations do begin;
Hues more bright and forms more rare,
Than reality doth wear,
Flash across my inward sense,
Born of the mind's omnipotence.

Soul! All that informest, say!
Shall these glories pass away
Will those planets cease to blaze,
When these eyes no longer gaze?
And the life of things be o'er,
When these pulses beat no more?

Thought! In me that works and lives,--
Life to all things living gives,--
Art thou not thyself, perchance,
But the universe in trance?
A reflection inly flung
By that world thou fanciedst sprung
From thyself;--thyself a dream;--
Of the world's thinking thou the theme.

Be it thus, or be thy birth
From a source above the earth--
Be thou matter, be thou mind,
In thee alone myself I find,
And through thee alone, for me,
Hath this world reality.
Therefore, in thee will I live,
To thee all myself will give,
Losing still, that I may find,
This boundless self in boundless Mind.

I should make one of those things where the first letter of each line spells out a word. Maybe I'll spell out "poopy" or something posh like that.

2005-05-07T20:09:00.000-07:00

I was just reading that poem I posted (This is the only website I read. I am the funniest person in EXISTENCE, so reading other things is pointless. It's like the richest man in the world picking up a penny. Ahaha I'm so egotastic.) and I was thinking about the question it's posing. (Side note: Said poem was later re-published as "The Idealist")

Is the universe a creation of my thought? Prehaps, rather than all of us sharing one universe, there are thousands, sandwiched together, and we're all doing whatever and what we do impacts what other people are doing and it barrels onward and creates like a common universe. Because if you think about it, everyone already lives in their own head, so creating a scientific reason for it is the next step. Observations lead to theory, after all. But then, if everything is in our heads, prehaps that means we can change our universe.

I'll be in the lab!

Whee, livejournal-esque quizz! Man, this place is getting lame.

2005-05-06T14:23:00.000-07:00

The things that happen when I get bored..

What is your name?	Tyler Linn
Are you named after anyone?	Uh, captain america.
What's your screename?	Asmodues
Would you name a child of yours after you?	No, because my name is too awesome for anyone else.
If you were born a member of the opposite sex what would your name be?	Tylina? How should I know? I'm not some kind of super naming genius person.
If you could switch names with a friend who would it be?	My good friend Tyler Linn, who lives right next door to me and is exactly like me but evil and with better hair.
Are there any mispronounciations/typos that ppl do w/ your name constantly?	T-Lo (Use it and die.) Also, fuck you poll maker person for using "ppl." Really adds class.
Would you drop your last name if you became famous?	No, I'd add like 5 more huge last names to make my name incredibly annoying to say.
Basics
Your gender:	Male
Straight/Gay/Bi:	Asexual
Single?	Oh yeah!
If not, do you want to be?	Oh yeah!
Birthdate:	July 9th 1988
Your age:	70000000000
Age you act:	-70000000000
Age you wish you were:	Is "sexy" an age?
Your height:	6'4''
Eye color:	Purple/brown, depending on whether or not I'm on the cocaine.
Happy with it?	No, because i h8 my body and i h8 mai lyfe 7 i h8 u, fuking quizz
Hair color:	Brown.
Happy with it?	Meh. Considering dying it dark purple. I like purple. (Does that make me gay?)
Lefty/righty/ambidextrous:	Right
Your living arrangement:	In a HOUSE. You know, roof, walls, stuff like that? I know this is rocket science, but stick with me.
Your family:	Mother, father, brother. Shitload of relatives. Add water, stir for 10 minutes.
Have any pets?	Two. Cat- outdoors. Cool guy, doesn't bug me much. Dog- indoors. Miniature spawn of satan, his death is frequently plotted.
Whats your job?	Being incredibly awesome 24/7
Piercings?	I have a piercing wit. Does that count?
Tattoos?	I have this hammer and sickle on my right hand, but it's just in pen ink, so I guess it doesn't count as a tattoo.
Obsessions?	I like to read, but I could live without it. I'm really too laid back to be obsessed about anything.
Addictions?	The ol' crack cocaine.
Do you speak another language?	I speak fluent gibberish.
Have a favorite quote?	"We must go forwards, not backwards! Upwards, not forwards! And always spinning, spinning, SPINNING towards freedom!"
Do you have a webpage?	www.asmodues.blogspot.com
Deep Thoughts About Life and You in it
Do you live in the moment?	You sort of have to. You know, time constantly moving forward and all.
Do you consider yourself tolerant of others?	Hell no. I'm loud and obnoxious to people I don't like.
Do you have any secrets?	I, uh, like garlic?
Do you hate yourself?	Wai yez! No, I don't. I'm too awesome to hate.
Do you like your handwriting?	My handwriting blows. I think so, my teachers think so, random strangers I ask on the street think so. This is not a psychological phoenomena, people.
Do you have any bad habits?	I often act over-confident, when I'm actually shy and quiet.
What is the compliment you get from most people?	"Damn, man! Lookin' good!" No, not really.
If a movie was made about your life, what would it be called?	"The day the earth stood still. And then rotated backwards for a while. And then did an awesome handstand, and then blew up." Or: "When Justin met Kelly."
What's your biggest fear?	People discovering that I'm not actually an egomaniac.
Can you sing?	I have a decent singing voice.
Do you ever pretend to be someone else just to look cool?	If by someone else you mean myself, then yes.
Are you a loner?	Psychologically yes, in practice no.
What are your #1 priorities in life?	Get a job I enjoy away from people I don't.
If you were another person, would you be friends with you?	Probably not. I'm manipulative and annoying.
Are you a daredevil?	Not really, although I would love to try hang-gliding.
Is there anything you fear or hate about yourself?	My burgoeing megalomania.
Are you passive or agressive?	Aggressive to the X-Treme.
Do you have a journal?	Online, yes.
What is your greatest strength and weakness?	My awesomeness and stubbornness.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?	That's an excellent question. On the one hand, I like to think that the current person I am is the best possible adaptation of the original person I was, given the limitations of self change. If, on the other hand, this question is asking about both physical and psychological things, I would like to have... You know, I can't answer this. I do whatever I can to change things about myself I don't like. If I could think of something, I would be working towards changing it.
Do you think you are emotionally strong?	Very.
Is there anything you regret doing/not doing in life?	Considering I'm 16, I'd say I have plenty of time to do things still.
Do you think life has been good so far?	Free food, free room, free internet. Life is good, compadre
What is the most important lesson you've learned from life?	Never, ever kick a clown in the testicals.
What do you like the most about your body?	Being tall is cool. I get more money for doing the same thing!
And least?	Hair could be a little more managable.
Do you think you are good looking?	I'm decent looking, in my opinion.
Are you confident?	Yes.
What is the fictional character you are most like?	Can't think of one.
Are you perceived wrongly?	Most definately.
Do You...
Smoke?	Only marijuana! But invisible marijuana, so..
Do drugs?	No.
Read the newspaper?	Online, yes.
Pray?	No.
Go to church?	No.
Talk to strangers who IM you?	When I'm bored, yes.
Sleep with stuffed animals?	I have a parrot in there somewhere, but only because it landed there at some point and I haven't tossed it out. It's not like I'm desperately curling around it saying "Mister Hugglesworth" while a solitary tear slips down my cheek.
Take walks in the rain?	Yes.
Talk to people even though you hate them?	If by "talk" you mean "shout bad things at," then yes!
Drive?	M'hmm.
Like to drive fast?	Nah.
Would or Have You Ever?
Liked your voice?	Yes
Hurt yourself?	No
Been out of the country?	Yes
Eaten something that made other people sick?	Does just ketchup on bread count?
Been in love?	Nah.
Done drugs?	No. Also, this is redundant you stupid quiz.
Gone skinny dipping?	Once, alone.
Had a medical emergency?	Kinda
Had surgery?	Kinda
Ran away from home?	Not for longer then an hour.
Played strip poker?	No.
Gotten beaten up?	Not since 2nd grade
Beaten someone up?	No
Been picked on?	Not since 7th grade
Been on stage?	No
Slept outdoors?	Yes
Thought about suicide?	Only in a "wtf?" sense
Pulled an all nighter?	Repeatedly
If yes, what is your record?	4 days in a row without sleep.
Gone one day without food?	Yes
Talked on the phone all night?	No
Slept together with the opposite sex w/o actually having sex?	I'd like to, but no.
Slept all day?	Yes, numerous times
Killed someone?	Only in my mind.
Made out with a stranger?	Once you've made out with someone you're not really strangers, now are you?
Had sex with a stranger?	No
Thought you're going crazy?	Going? I'm already there, baby.
Kissed the same sex?	No
Done anything sexual with the same sex?	No
Been betrayed?	Yes.
Had a dream that came true?	Uh, sort of.
Broken the law?	Repeatedly.
Met a famous person?	No
Have you ever killed an animal by accident?	Yes
On purpose?	I wish (How I loathe my dog...)
Told a secret you swore you wouldn't tell?	Only along the lines of "Billy Jenkins likes Amy Amyson!"
Stolen anything?	Yes
Been on radio/tv?	No
Been in a mosh-pit?	No
Had a nervous breakdown?	No
Bungee jumped?	No
Had a dream that kept coming back?	No
Beliefs
Belive in life on other planets?	It's common sense. Law of statistics.
Miracles?	No
Astrology?	No. Man this stuff is bullshit.
Magic?	Mysticism, to a point.
God?	No.
Satan?	This is the same as god, you stupid quiz people. No.
Santa?	No
Ghosts?	Not sure if I do or not. Leaning towards no
Luck?	Luck is for those who are unsure
Love at first sight?	Lust at first sight, maybe.
Yin and yang (that good cant exist w/o bad)?	Without bad, how would we know something was good?
Witches?	No
Easter bunny?	No
Believe its possible to remain faithful forever?	If in a relationship, no. Not forever. Faith? I'm not in a posistion to talk about that.
Believe theres a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?	If there was, Bill Gates would've stolen it by now.
Do you wish on stars?	No. See astrology.
Deep Theological Questions
Do you believe in the traditional view of Heaven and Hell?	No.
Do you think God has a gender?	To assign one of two possible spectrums to a super natural being unlike us is moronic. Of course, I'm agnostic.
Do you believe in organized religion?	No.
Where do you think we go when we die?	Alabama
Friends
Do you have any gay/lesbian friends?	Probably.
Who is your best friend?	I don't really have one. Maybe Ash.
Who's the one person that knows most about you?	No one. Emily knows a fairly large amount, though.
What's the best advice that anyone has ever given to you?	"Don't eat the yellow snow."
Your favourite inside joke?	"Bob Dole!" Communism is a close second.
Thing you're picked on most about?	Height
Who's your longest known friend?	Will Rice, but we're not that close.
Newest?	Heather Marvin
Shyest?	John Beeching
Funniest?	Kris, maybe.
Sweetest?	None of my friends are "sweet," exactly.
Closest?	I get along with Ash best. Probably because we're no where close to each other.
Weirdest?	Franco
Smartest?	Eric
Ditziest?	----
Friends you miss being close to the most?
Last person you talked to online?	Ash
Who do you talk to most online?	Ash
Who are you on the phone with most?	No one at all.
Who do you trust most?	Myself
Who listens to your problems?	No one.
Who do you fight most with?	Everyone
Who's the nicest?	My
Who's the most outgoing?	Gods
Who's the best singer?	These
Who's on your shit-list?	Questions
Have you ever thought of having sex with a friend?	Are
Who's your second family?	STUPID!
Do you always feel understood?	That's impossible, you stupid quiz.
Who's the loudest friend?	Alex
Do you trust others easily?	No
Who's house were you last at?	My own
Name one person who's arms you feel safe in:	I don't make a habit of being in peoples arms, you piece of crap.
Do your friends know you?	No.
Friend that lives farthest away:	Ash, probably.
Love and All That
Do you consider love a mistake?	Love is necessary for continuation of the species.
What do you find romantic?	Walking under the full moon
Turn-on?	Jesus
Turn-off?	Jesus
First kiss?	My mother, and that's about it.
If someone u had no interest in had interest in dating u how would u feel?	Holy fuck this person has the grammar of a 5 year old. I would mock them about it mercilessly, you idiotic babboon.
Do you prefer knowing someone before dating them or going	Why would I date a stranger? I'm not into sex, so personality has to be what I'm after. Dating a stranger would thus be, quote, "Fucking stupid."
Have u ever wished it was more socially acceptable 4 a girl 2 ask a guy out	Holy fuck, learn to type, moron. And being a guy, I don't give a shit. If I really want to ask someone out, I do it. Times I've done it: 0 and counting.
Have you ever been romantically attracted to someone physically unattractiv	Yes
Do you think the opposite sex finds you good looking?	Dizzam yeah!
What is best about the opposite sex?	More capable of being mature and serious when at the age I'm at then other men.
What is the worst thing about the opposite sex?	Gossipping can be annoying.
What's the last present someone gave you?	A cookie
Are you in love?	No.
Do you consider your significant other hot?	I don't have one. Nice wording, fuckstick.
Who Was the Last Person...
That haunted you?	No one. I deal with my problems with people.
You wanted to kill?	My dog. Are dogs people? I haven't been keeping up with PETA.
That you laughed at?	Almost everyone I know, at the same time.
That laughed at you?	See above answer.
That turned you on?	Well, I was walking by this mirror...
You went shopping with?	No one.
That broke your heart?	Eet are unbrakable!
To disappoint you?	Uh, I think a friend owes me like a dollar. I'm kinda disappointed he didn't pay me back yet. That's about the worst I can think of.
To ask you out?	No one has ever asked me out.
To make you cry?	Jesus
To brighten up your day?	Jesus
That you thought about?	Jesus
You saw a movie with?	Jesus
You talked to on the phone?	Jesus
You talked to through IM/ICQ?	Jesus
You saw?	Jesus
You lost?	Jesus
Right This Moment...
Are you going out?	No
Will it be with your significant other?	Uh, no? I don't have one?
Or some random person?	No
What are you wearing right now?	My birthday suit
Body part you're touching right now:	My epidermis!
What are you worried about right now?	That people will realize I'm naked
What book are you reading?	"The Trancendentalists," as edited by Perry Miller
What's on your mousepad?	It's a table top. A mouse is on my mousepad.
Use 5 words to describe how you're feeling:	Annoyed (At this moronic quiz), moderately happy, split
Are you bored?	Never
Are you tired?	Never
Are you talking to anyone online?	I was, but then she had to leave.
Are you talking to anyone on the phone?	I never use the phone.
Are you lonely or content?	I'm content.
Are you listening to music?	Yes, always.

This program is sponsered by: BANDAI!

2005-05-06T13:55:00.001-07:00

I haven't posted in a while, have I? I blame the liberal media.

Anyway, here's a heaping of random shat.

1) A piece of advice: When putting garlic powder and peanut butter on a muffin, make sure you don't put the two pieces together. The powder will make it impossible for the peanut butter to stick to the muffin, and patchy peanut butter will result. I found this out the hard way.

2) That girl I had the crush on for a few weeks thinks I'm stalking her, despite an almost complete lack of communication and/or proximity for months. Riddle me this!

3) Does picking a book sale over my Grandmother's ash spreading make me a bad person, or just an enormous nerd?

4) Will you marry me, Tom Ato?

5) Yes, I just made a pokemon reference.

6) Have a poem.

Frederic Henry Hedge -

Questionings

Hath this world, without me wrought,
Other substance than my thought?
Lives it by my sense alone,
Or by essence of its own?
Will its life, with mine begun,
Cease to be when that is done,
Or another consciousness
With the self-same forms impress?

Doth yon fireball, poised in air,
Hang by my permission there?
Are the clouds that wander by,
But the offspring of mine eye,
Born with every glance I cast,
Perishing when that is past?
And those thousand, thousand eyes,
Scattered through the twinkling skies,
Do they draw their life from mine,
Or, of their own beauty shine?

Now I close my eyes, my ears,
And creation disappears;
Yet if I but speak the word,
All creation is restored.
Or--more wonderful-- within,
New creations do begin;
Hues more bright and forms more rare,
Than reality doth wear,
Flash across my inward sense,
Born of the mind's omnipotence.

Soul! All that informest, say!
Shall these glories pass away
Will those planets cease to blaze,
When these eyes no longer gaze?
And the life of things be o'er,
When these pulses beat no more?

Thought! In me that works and lives,--
Life to all things living gives,--
Art thou not thyself, perchance,
But the universe in trance?
A reflection inly flung
By that world thou fanciedst sprung
From thyself;--thyself a dream;--
Of the world's thinking thou the theme.

Be it thus, or be thy birth
From a source above the earth--
Be thou matter, be thou mind,
In thee alone myself I find,
And through thee alone, for me,
Hath this world reality.
Therefore, in thee will I live,
To thee all myself will give,
Losing still, that I may find,
This boundless self in boundless Mind.

Oh yeah, I have one of those weblog thingies.

2005-04-28T12:58:00.000-07:00

Me + happy = doesn't feel the urge to write.

Which is why this place is always such a sad-sack.