Muse Parade

Thump, Thump

2012-01-13T23:16:00.004-05:00

Hey you. Yeah, you. I'd like to ask you a simple question and I want you to answer honestly. Are you happy? Truly happy? If not, do you know why? You must know why. There must be something tugging at your heart. You know that feeling. Like someone has their hand around your heart and they give it a slight squeeze every now and then. Every time this happens, you think of a memory. You know what memories I'm talking about. I want you to do something right now. You'll thank me later. I want you to dim all the lights in your room, almost to complete blackness. If there is any noise in your house or apartment, grab some earplugs, or something to block out the noise. Are you following my instructions? I sure hope so.

I now want you to sit down in a comfortable manner. Close your eyes and calm your breathing. Now listen. Do you hear anything? I hope not since I told you to get some earplugs. But now I want you to listen harder. You should be able to hear your heart beat. I am hoping by now with your controlled breathing, it is beating at a slow, steady rate. I don't know if you know anything about our Biology, but this thing in your chest beats only a certain number of times. Then it gives out, sort of like a battery. If you think about it, if you slow the rate at which your heart beats, you are essentially extending your lifespan. So right now as you are breathing easy, you are allowing yourself to live a bit longer. Isn't that neat? But this isn't the main point of this experiment. Yes, I am experimenting on you - I hope you don't mind.

By the way, this is not a meditation. You should not be 'clearing your mind'. You should hear something. You should be hearing your memories. All of those electric tidbits of information in that noggin of yours - they should be dancing around and seem to be displaying themselves on the backs of your eyelids like a projecting mechanism. Flashbacks of your childhood. Your first love. Regrets. Nightmares. Your biggest orgasm. What I want you to do now is focus on the orgasm memory. No, really - trust me. Are you smiling yet? Okay, good. Actually, we're finished here.

Were you expecting something more climactic? Get it - orgasm, climactic; oh man I crack myself up. You do realize how powerful this orgasm, I mean experiment was, right? Not only did you extend your lifespan by slowing down your heart rate, but you even smiled - perhaps even laughed. What you really did was think of a happy memory which provided you with a moment or two of happiness. I want you to do this whenever you are feeling down. Whenever your heart feels like it's being crushed. Sit down and 'stop' time for a few minutes and listen. I promise that if you keep doing this, you'll learn that this is just the first step. First step towards what you ask? A better orgasm of course. ;)

Back to Basics

2011-08-25T14:37:00.003-04:00

Every once in a while I sit back and reevaluate my belief system. I try to make it a habit of mine to constantly question until either everything makes sense, or I reach a dead end. The base of my belief system doesn't often change much, but I sometimes discover properties of the system that I hand't initially thought of. For example a much earlier post of mine questioned the issue of free will in a purely cause and effect world.

In a nutshell, my belief system is pretty simple and can be described by determinism. I don't believe that there was a beginning and I don't believe there will be an end, to the universe that is. We are a bunch of bundles of energy that collide and combine together to form particles, atoms, molecules, etc. Somehow out of the collisions of particles at the proper angles and momentum, we came in to being. All because of cause and effect.

Last night I was thinking about fate. Fate is something I always ascribed to religion, so I always put it out of my head. You always hear from theists that God as a grand plan for us all. Fate always sounded to me like something that was beyond my control. Something is going to happen to me whether I like it or not. Anything to do with predetermined fate or destiny always put me off.

Sure, you can hold an object up in the air and say it is predetermined to fall to the ground. But can you really be sure that it will hit the ground? No, you can't. Say a gust of wind blows you over on your back and the object lands on your groin. We can't know because we don't know or have control over all of the globules of energy in the world or universe. If we did and we knew nothing would interrupt the object as it fell, you think it would be okay assume that the object was predetermined to hit the ground. But, this is also not possible.

Now unless there did exist a god who knew everything and had absolutely no effect on the universe unless he or she willed it and this god told us everything there was to know about the universe, there is no way we could know for sure. Why? Because in order to find out for ourselves, we would have to measure. And in the process of measuring, we change what we are measuring, giving us skewed results (Uncertainty Principle).

But with this deterministic viewpoint, everything is predetermined - but there is no way for us to know exactly what the results will be. So in a sense, we are fated, and we do have a destiny.

An atheist who believes in fate. Weird!

It is bizarre to think that every whimsical action we take is predetermined. Like mentioned before, imagine that we know everything there is to know about the universe without making any measurements. We would then be able to determine or calculate that John Smith from Austin Texas will perform a cartwheel on his front lawn at 5:34 p.m. to show off to his children. It is difficult to accept that everything I am doing right now could have been foreseen if this knowledge was available. Every letter I type is predetermined. It seems very bizarre, but it seems to make sense.

In the same way, it seems far fetched to believe that if I tap the floor right now with my finger, it will send energy from the point of contact all the way to the other side of the earth. But it all boils down to cause and effect. We may not be able to measure it in its finest detail, but it exists.

Stand Up!

2011-07-25T18:19:00.003-04:00

It's been a long time coming, but I am finally trying the standing approach to using a computer. For the time being I am using my bureau since it is just about tall enough. I am one of many who is glued to their computer pretty much all day. There's homework, reddit, email, cheggit ( I dare you to look this up ;), video games (damn you Steam), blogging, did I say reddit already ಠ_ಠ?

After doing much research and even giving a presentation in college about it, I think it's about time for me to try the experiment. If after about a month I like it, I'll be making a trip to Ikea to acquire the parts to make a real desk of my own. I say a month because supposedly it takes about that long for your body and especially feet to get used to standing for long periods of time.

If you are interested, I am trying to get my sitting time down below 5 hours a day. Considering the time I spend in class, eating, driving, and pooping - this becomes somewhat difficult to do. There are many scientific studies on the subject, but my interest spawned from an article that was posted on reddit a while back.

http://www.medicalbillingandcoding.org/sitting-kills/

I will try to post again regarding my results.

A Visit

2011-07-15T22:32:00.002-04:00

"Today a class from a diffirent school came to my school. When they got to my school me and someone else whent to meet them at the front door of the school. First when the class got to my class each person from the other class picked a partner. After that everyone from my class asked the other class to pt theire name on a name tag so everyone from both classes got to know each other. When the princable from my school came in my class room she interduesed herself and told the other class about the school and other things. Next we lined up at the door and went outside to play a game. When we got outside we lined up and each person had to walk across a pavement a diffirent way. Every person had to walk or run or even skiping. Every person had to do something diffirent. from everybody in front of them. After everybody went we got into groups and then larger groups after the whole game and it got hot. Everybody went back into my classroom again. When we got inside we got setled and my teacher made an anounsmint. She said, "my class made your class freindship braclits for you" and everybody in my class gave thier partner the bracelit. After everybody had a doghnut and apple sider. After other people from my class took the other class around the school. Next they left to the front door but befor everybody said good by and see you later. Then me and someone else took the other class to the bus and then everybody said goodby to us to. "

- A description of mine from grade school of a visit from another school. My mother kept most of my school work and I like to go through it from time to time for laughs and giggles. I love all the spelling errors. I hope they still do things like this; I remember it being pretty fun. I think I pulled off a cartwheel when we were all doing 'something different' as we walked across the pavement.

Connect the Dots

2011-07-10T00:29:00.003-04:00

Tears begin falling. They continue to fall harder, and faster. You clench your fists and squint your eyes. You can't believe this is happening. You did not see this coming. You thought you had it all figured out. You feel like your life is closing in on you, squeezing you, forcing you in to an infinitesimal spec of condensed sadness. You can't seem to breath. Your chest hurts. You begin to sweat. Rolling flashes of warmth shoot through your body. Your mind and heart are racing faster and faster. You feel like you are about to collapse in on yourself.

When suddenly you slam your fists on the ground, look up at the sky and scream at the top of your lungs. A release. The stars seem blurry through your running tears. You continue to stare. The stars become more clear as your tears begin to dry on your face. Clusters upon clusters of white specs of light fill your vision. You begin to connect the dots. A line here. A curve there. An image appears. You know instantly what it is and you begin to smile. The smile becomes permanent as your eyes begin to close again. You are calm. You hold your smile for as long as your muscles hold out. Because you know that you are okay. And that you have exactly what you need. And you always will.

Conscious Breathing

2011-06-26T18:00:00.004-04:00

When you cut yourself, your body triggers a pain sensation in your brain. We then react and stop the cause of the pain. No matter the degree of pain or pleasure, our body is trying to tell us something. But are there even more subtle queues than just immediate and obvious pain and pleasure that we fail to pick up on?

As the title suggests, I am talking about breathing consciously. In my experience, you become aware of your breathing either on purpose or unintentionally. Breathing is traditionally thought of to be an unconscious bodily function. Our body breaths for us when we are sleeping, and unless we intentionally take control during waking hours - we usually are not aware of it.

So how does one become aware of their breathing unintentionally? It seems to happen to me sometimes when I run when I wasn't expecting to run. (If I was expecting to run, I will take manual control of my breathing so I don' get cramps). It happens unintentionally when I need to take in big gulps of air. It also happens in periods of inactivity. If I sit down and close my eyes, it seems that my body shifts in to manual control automatically.

What also seems to trigger it is sadness or depression. I initially thought I was alone in this experience, but after mentioning to a family member the other day - I realized it happens to others as well. When you feel sad or depressed, you get a tight feeling in your chest. You then tend to focus on this feeling, and then what naturally follows is your breathing. This has to be a sign.

What the conversation consisted of was a bit morbid, but important. When we are sad, we become aware of our breathing. Not only are we focused on our problems, but we also have to remind ourselves to draw in air and exhale it. If this goes on for longer than say fifteen seconds, it starts to become annoying. What a sad situation we are in when we become annoyed by the act of keeping ourselves alive.

I think though, that our body forces us into manual control for a reason. We have to take control and fix our trajectory. My solution is usually a bit of yoga type breathing. Close your eyes. Breath in. Breath out. Remember that problems can be solved - and if they can't be solve, there is no use worrying about it. Get yourself under control, smile, and then continue living your life the way you want to. You will now breath unconsciously.

I think maybe that many of us don't quite take the initiative to fix what is wrong. We ignore signs that should not be ignored. You worry and control your breathing in an inefficient way, leading to many issues.

Smile. And let your body breath for you.

Friend

2011-06-26T01:52:00.002-04:00

When I look at or hear this word spoken, I get a very soft and warm feeling at my core. It occurs regardless of whether or not I have any friends in my life. This happens because of the way I interpret the meaning of the word. Not everyone will have the same reaction as me. While I do agree that there are varying degrees of what a friend is, I feel that the actual embodiment of my interpretation of the word is very precious.

I made a post a while back about performance-based relationships. I argued that friendships were performance based. I don't know if I necessarily believe this anymore. While I think there are many people who interpret the word differently than I do who have performance-based friendships; the essence of what a friend is to me, is not at all performance-based. Much how I believe that love for a family member is unrequited, the effort and care you put in to a friendship is very much the same.

It is a bit of a coincidence, but now that I think about it - a manga that I follow consists of a 'friendship' that is a bit one sided. In a nutshell, one of the two boys cares very much about the other - and the other could not care less. The connection I'm making here is that once someone enters your life and makes a significant enough impact on you personally, this person becomes very important to you. In essence this person becomes a friend to you. The importance of this person will never go away. You will always hold them in the highest regard. You will always care about this person. No matter what.

Now, I realize people may change - and eventually drift apart somewhat. But, I think that real friends will never lose contact. The connections that they made in the past will always be important. Unfortunately, I also think that friendships can be one sided. But I think that once you understand and accept the ins and outs of human interpersonal relationships, you can cope with having a one-sided friendship.

I personally think that true two way friendships are actually quite rare. If you have one, consider yourself very lucky. I am making a huge guess here, but I would say that only 1 in 10 people have a true two way friendship in their lifetime that is not performance based.

Imagine a person who will call you just to see that you are doing well. A person who is not fickle. Someone who will not ignore you for any reason. Someone who will do whatever they can to help you. A person you can call and confide in. Someone you can always fall back on. Someone who is not curious, but actually cares about you. A strong and reliable connection you will never lose in this crazy world of ours.

This is what a friend is to me.

Dreamscape

2009-11-14T13:54:00.002-05:00

It's been about seven months since I've written anything substantial here; although the void doesn't seem to have lasted longer than the blink of an eye. It's amazing how quickly your life can change - how quickly something or somebody can take hold of you and extract you completely from your old life. Where everything seems different from your point of view, from waking up in the morning to scrubbing the last morsel of food off a dirty plate. Any previously deemed monotonous tasks are revitalized and no longer completed grudgingly.

What sparked my interest in returning here to write something stemmed from a few things including a new found curiosity to both write down and share my dreams and a rather curious soundtrack that played during one of my work nights. Of the many calm inducing songs that were played over the eight hour shift was that of Erik Satie, Gnossienne 1.

They say the more you think about your dreams, including talking about them and writing them down, the more likely you are to remember them. There's nothing more annoying than waking up and not remembering what you just dreamt about. Imagine going on some spectacular adventure, doing whatever you please, having the most fun you've had in your life, and not remembering it the day after. Remembering is how we grow. Reminiscing for me is a greatly satisfying experience. I don't want to forget anything, even my dreams.

My dreams come in two parts, two waves mostly independent of each other. Depending on how much time passes from when I wake up to the point when my pen reaches the paper, I can usually only remember one part - probably the second. I like to write them down right away, otherwise I'm risking the loss of detail. I'm not obsessive about it, but I do keep a notebook pretty close to my bed. I'm also not one to interpret my dreams much, also I do a bit of mild correlating between certain dream occurrences and past real-life events. I don't believe dreams predict the future, but they certainly say something about you. Please excuse my fragmented way of portraying my dream, it's how I remember it playing out.

Dream Log 11/14
I'm standing at the mid-point of my grandmother's back yard looking where her fence should be, but instead at my newly built house. It is very tiny, a little bit bigger than a mobile home - but it's one of those new-age mini cost-efficient houses that's solar powered. I'm standing there looking at my house wondering if the walls are thick enough - if they're well insulated, and also of the locks on the doors are strong enough. Then I turn around and look back at my grandmother's house and wonder why the heck I built my house so close. So then I start to wonder how easy it would be to transport the entire house elsewhere and also wonder how I'm going to explain the reason I want to move away. The next thing I know I'm at the back porch of my grandmother's house talking to her - what about I don't know. Then my aunt shows up and asks me to babysit her kids. The next thing I remember, we're playing follow the leader around the yard and my house - I'm the leader. What's weird is that there's some old lady in a wheel chair in the back of the line. We walk around a bit more until we get to the side of my house. We stop and look beyond the back yard. I realize my house is built almost in the middle of a street, slightly over the two yellow lines, and it seems to be built on a big speed bump. There are cars coming from both sides of the street, slowing down as they approach the speed bump, and squeezing by as they avoid my house. Now I'm standing there wondering how that could have happened and then I realize there's an ocean just beyond the road. I wake up shortly looking at the blue waves.

Word of the Day: Redivivus

2009-06-11T19:54:00.001-04:00

Mental capacity redivivus via trailblazing musings.

p.s. One starts to wonder if words are ever retired from the dictionary.

I've Killed Something Beautiful

2009-04-18T10:12:00.002-04:00

Apt and eager to take on the uncertainties of this beautiful April morning, I opened my front door and took a deep breath. Exhaling and looking out at the clear sky I felt something land on my shirt with a buzz. I instinctively brushed down with my right hand and took a step back to see a yellow jacket fall to the floor. My screen door closed as I backed into the kitchen while the wasp squirmed a bit on the floor as it flipped itself over. Having a bad experience in the past I panicked and stomped down with my right foot and twisted it counter clock-wise. I turned my head away and winced after hearing the barely audible 'crunk' as I ended the life of something beautiful.

I wouldn't say it ruined my day but it certainly put a damper on things - as I spent the rest of the day mulling over my split-second decision. The corpse is still there, right in front of my door; I'm not sure when I'll pick it up. I remember when I had absolutely no problem killing insects - I even did it for fun once in a while. I had a friend next door when I was in elementary school and we used to have a contest to see who could kill the most bumble bees in my front yard. They would hover right above the grass at exactly the right height for us to pounce at the right time and squish them under our little feet.

It's strange now that I think about it. I believe I always had a slight phobia of insects and arachnids of all sorts, but I went through phases in which I enjoyed inflicting harm on them. In another house at another location.....and yet another friend when I was five years old, we used to look around the perimeter of his house for daddy long-legs. While I just watched, he would pick them up by one leg and pluck the rest off one by one until only one remained. I didn't particularly enjoy this activity, but he was my only friend at the time.

Which brings me to ponder the importance or value of different forms of life. I remember having a discussion with my aunt not too long ago about what we would do if I hit a deer with my car. She said that depending on the severity of the injury, she would most likely try to run the deer over again to kill it, to end its misery. I honestly don't know if I could bring myself to do that. I then asked her if she would have the same attitude and willingness to accomplish something of that nature with a human being, if say perhaps there was absolutely no hope for recovery. She said she didn't know, and that it's completely different.

Is it completely different? I don't know - I suppose it depends on the person and their point of view. I killed the wasp because I was afraid it would sting me. I suppose I shouldn't feel bad about it, but I do. I've never killed a human before, but if I was defending myself and it happened, I don't think I would feel any different than killing the wasp. Sure if there was a dead human body laying in front of my kitchen door, there would be bigger implications in terms of the law, but psychologically I don't think I would react any differently. Did I cry when I killed the wasp? No. Would I cry if I killed a human out of self-defense? I don't think I would.

If you asked me if I would rather save the lives of 1000 people or 1000 bugs or 1000 elephants or 1000 deer or 1000 polar bears, I wouldn't have an answer for you. Of course the people I know and love are important to me, and so my answer to the previous question would not apply - but in general I don't think human life is more important than any other form of life. Would I be called evil? Probably. Unethical? Amoral? Filthy excuse for a human-being? Most likely. I honestly couldn't care less what people think of me, but I think its this mode of thought that is destroying the diversity and beauty of our earth. Some people would just say that its evolution - survival of the fittest....but do you think humans will evolve fast enough to keep up with drastic human-induced changes to our world? I'm not so sure.

My Son

2009-04-14T08:50:00.001-04:00

I never knew how to be a good father. I always figured it would come to me naturally; it seemed to me that the art of parenting was part of our physiological structure - much like love, you can't simply read about it in a book. Thinking back to my childhood when my father was still alive, while my memory is vague, I remember his charming smile. He wasn't around often because of work, but from what I can remember he was a very cheerful man and always managed to make me smile. My fondest memory was the day he taught me how to throw a curve ball. We were in the back yard all night it seemed - until I got it just right. Upon catching the last ball he jumped up and cheered and we ran toward each other. He grabbed me by the sides and lifted me up above his head and twirled me around in the air. After setting me down he took his right hand and rubbed the top of my head and told me how proud he was of me. While I didn't get to see him that often, he made a significant impact on me as a father. Above all though, he was always there for me. No matter where I was or how I felt, I could always get get a hold of him and he would always cheer me up. Even through the phone, I could always see his smile.

After loosing my wife to cancer a year ago, I could no longer maintain this timeless smile. I don't know if my son could notice or not, but it was something I worried about every day. Not only was my wife taken from me, but I was left to raise our son on my own, and the fear that I might fail grew with every thought. I read every book I could get my hands on - from single parenting to depression and living with loss. I even began to see a therapist. Even after months, none of it seemed to be helping. My son seemed to be coping just fine, but I honestly couldn't tell because my own depression. Although I was spending much more time with him, my head was filled with constant mourning and negativity I had a hard time seeing what was right in front of me. I followed my self-help books to a T, and I hoped to god my son was getting all he deserved. I made sure he ate well, did his homework, and got to bed on time - but I didn't know what he was thinking, and I can see now that I failed to ask.

Every night after tucking my son into bed, I would escape to my recling chair in the living room and watch the old video tapes of my wedding. With a cuban cigar in my left hand and a cup of scotch in my right, I would drown myself in alcohol, smoke, and memories that are now painful to think about. I couldn't help myself. Every night would be the same. It was just me and my son now and for some reason that wasn't enough. Why wasn't it enough? Am I really that selfish a person to forever cling to the past and abandon my responsibilites as a father? I want to smile again, and I want my son to see me as I was before all of this happened. Why did this have to happen? I don't understand, and I will never understand. No one will ever be able to answer these questions. No one will ever be able to undo the past. Things became clear to me though on one of my more pathetic nights - the most important day of my life.

I woke up to a beep, after a second realizing it was my cell-phone which was in the kitchen. I was sprawled out on my basement floor in a sea of old pictures that were scattered around my body. I sat up and peeled a picture off my forehead which happened to be of my son and I on his fourth birthday. I carried this with me while I walked upstairs to the kitchen. I flipped open my phone, surprised to see that I had twenty-three missed calls, all from home. I also had one message from my son, which made me panic at first. He was sobbing and sniffling and barely managed to let a few words escape, "daddy, where are you?". I thought for a second and remembered that he was terrified of going into the basement at night. He must have looked all over the house. I rushed upstairs to his room and he wasn't there. My second guess was right - I found him curled up with in my bed with a cordless phone in his hands. I stood there for a minute, watching my son sleep. I had forgotten how precious he was to me. Tears flowing, I crawled into bed and wrapped my arms around him. "I'm sorry sport, I'm here. I'll always be here, I promise."

Tripod

2009-04-03T21:24:00.001-04:00

Three rooms, three people - ever since my accident, this is what my life has been confined to. For the past several years though, I've discovered that the uncertainties of the outside world are just as frightening as the truths that emerge behind closed doors. There's a delicate balance of peace within these walls, and even though I'm completely aloof in terms of my direct influence on the psychology of this family, I am completely submerged within it. I can't really walk that well, and as the days go by it feels harder to breath.

I spend most of my time with the son. He's very calm, quiet, and gives me just the right amount of attention. Unlike his sister who is constantly on the phone, gossiping to her girlfriends about the way a certain guy looked at her during school that day. Between phone calls she likes to pick me up from under my shoulders and twirl me around in a circle several times until she gets dizzy. She then plops me down on her bead and almost violently rubs the top of my head out of excitement, leaving my hair sticking out in awkward directions. This is about the time I stroll back over to the boys room to fix myself. He'll usually have his window open for me to rest on the window sill. If I'm lucky the sun will be out and the birds will be chirping. I'll stretch out, close my eyes, and lay there the rest of the day letting my imagination run free. Occasionally the boy will break away from his notebook and gently stroke behind my ears, sending me further into oblivion.

I've never been in the father's room. He always has the door closed and always seems to be doing something. From what I can hear, he does a lot of typing. He does come out from time to time to either make dinner or to check up on his kids to make sure their homework is done. From what I can tell, they all get along quite well - there never seems to be a dull moment during family meals. Lots of smiles, lots of laughs - just a normal family sharing their daily endeavors and activities. Although brief, their encounters are joyful and pleasant - nothing seems to be out of place. Naturally though, most of their thoughts are kept at bay. Not wanting to disturb the buoyancy of their relationship, much goes unsaid. Secrets have reasons for existing, but not without high potential for disaster.

One day the kids got home from school - I was resting on the son's bed at the time. Coming up the stairs with his report card in his hand, he called out, "Dad, dad! You're going to be so proud of me". His sister went in her room to change and he proceeded to knock on his father's bedroom door. There was no answer. Slightly worried he opened the door and walked in to make sure he wasn't there. He had only been in this room a few times since they moved in, and it looked slightly different from before. On the corner of the computer desk stood a small monitor. Looking more closely at the screen, he saw that there was a young girl getting undressed. Once she turned around, the boy became extremely confused.

"I thought I told you never to come in my room!", his father yelled from the door way behind him. The boy spun around to see a face he had never seen before. "Dad, I'm sorry - I was trying to find you.... I uhh....why is sister on this little t.v. over here?" "That is none of your business, get out of here right now!" "But I wanted to show you..." Before he could say anything else his father had thrashed over to where he was, lifted him off his feet and carried him all the way to his own room and slammed him down on his bed. "If you ever tell anyone about what you saw in my room, I swear to god you will end up just like your damn crippled cat".

That night was like no other. The boy held me in his arms until he fell asleep while I could barely hear the father weep silently in the other room. Things were different from then onward. The subtle balance had been offset and no one could ever hope to change that fact - the fear was too great. For once though I felt a strange sense of belonging. Broken, we find ways to compensate, to fill in the void, to maintain at least a sense of balance even though it might exist only in our imagination.

25 Things

2009-03-30T22:42:00.002-04:00

1. I like to walk around my apartment in complete darkness.

2. Every time I see myself in a mirror I make a habit of saying, "hi there!" - which always makes me laugh.

3. I can't fall asleep without some form of a cover.

4. I'm the only person I know who doesn't own a cell phone.

5. My favorite thing to write with is a standard wooden #2 pencil.

6. When I was younger - when I found someone I was attracted to, I would always join their first name with my last name to see if they sounded good together.

7. In one of my biology classes in High School, my instructor passed around a taste test for everyone in the class to sample. We were discussing genetics and the test was to illustrate the presence of dominant and recessive genes. My instructor explained that there should be at least one or two people in the class who wouldn't be able to taste the sample - they would be the ones with the recessive gene. After putting the sample in my mouth, I didn't taste a thing. When the instructor asked the people in the class with the recessive gene to raise their hands, I kept both of mine on my desk, tightly clasped.

8. I still own my R.O.P.E. shirt which I got in elementary school - which I wear to sleep every other night.

9. My favorite color is yellow, and I have no idea why.

10. I simultaneously hate being alone and in the presence of most people.

11. My favorite childhood pastimes involved the original Nintendo - playing Tetris with my mother and Baseball with my father.

12. I once cried in class because I didn't get student of the month.

13. I remember the first and only love letter I wrote. I spent an entire day on it - of course considering I was only ten years old, that was a long time to ponder anything. I worried about it so much, I even asked my mother for advice. I wrote in the letter to this girl that I would change for her. My mother told me to take that part out - and I said I would, but I didn't. The next day in school I was too nervous to hand deliver the letter, so I asked my best friend at the time to do it for me. He said he would do it, so I gave him the letter. We decided the best time to give it to her was just before recess. So when the time came, I left my friend and went to hide on the side of the building while the rest of the kids had fun. I met up with him afterwards and he said he delivered it. But I never heard back from her. She never even looked at me. I spent the rest of that school year feeling like I didn't exist in the eyes of my peers. Like I didn't matter. Thinking about it now, I'm wondering if my friend actually lied about delivering the letter.

14. I've never been really sick.

15. I sometimes lose track of what someone is saying while figuring out why they're saying it.

16. If I ever feel the need or want to raise a child, I will most likely adopt. The film Martian Child gave me the idea.

17. Some of my most intimate conversations have been with people I have never met.

18. I used to hate wearing jeans. Almost every day it seemed I would fight with my mother as she forced them on me. Stiff and uncomfortable against my skin, my whole day would be absolutely miserable.

19. I never understood the saying, "I could care less". I always say, I couldn't care less.

20. I almost crashed my car once because of an epiphany that popped into my head.

21. Some of the best feelings in my life have occurred during night-time summer jogs across town.

22. I take my time to appreciate almost anything I encounter. Say I only need milk and eggs from the grocery store, I'll walk down every single isle just for the sake of doing so.

23. I was born in North Carolina on the 23th of January, and my parents named me Jordan, Michael(middle name) without any knowledge at all of the famous Michael Jordan who went to college in NC, whose jersey number is 23.

24. I taught myself how to juggle in one day.

25. Every day I try to do something slightly different than the previous day. Instead of brushing my teeth in the bathroom, I'll brush them on my couch. Instead of eating dinner on my kitchen table, I'll eat at my desk. Instead of trying to write these entries sober, I'll try doing them drunk. Meanwhile, all day I'll throw around 'what ifs' in my head... what if I was blind.....what if I was an orphan....what if, what if, what if, what if, what if tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of my life, and I have found reason to live on.

My Haven

2009-03-27T00:36:00.003-04:00

I remember the first time I stepped foot in a library. It was during a school day in my third year of grammar school. I'm not exactly sure of the reason for the trip, but I know it was a field trip; all of my classmates were there. I think perhaps it was required for all third year students, just to get us acquainted with the concept of a library. I wonder if they still do it; I'm assuming it was a town tradition. Whatever the reason, I am very thankful. I might not of otherwise discovered such a beautiful and serene place. I had never seen so many books in one area before. While the rest of the students clumped together in their separate niches that would continue to grow and evolve all throughout grammar school and beyond, I broke away from the stares of my peers and ventured off along the walls, scanning the titles of the books I could see. After circling the entire room, I discovered a staircase that led upstairs to yet another huge room lined with books. I grabbed a text off the shelf about icebergs, sat down in corner of the room and began reading.

Ever since then, like a magnet-like attractiveness I would find my way back. Every day after school. Every day after work. All day long for fifty years I would long for the silence, the peacefulness of this sanctuary. I could have read a book out of the library, and I have once or twice, but it's never the same. I could go anywhere in the world, but there's no place I'd rather be. Every time I walk through the doors, it's like walking through a sieve; all of the chaos and the noise is stripped from my skin. Finally, I am completely at ease. I did have a library card and I would check books out, but I would only read them where they belonged. Every day I would exchange brief salutations with the librarians as I made my way up to the second floor, across the isle, and behind a bookcase to a cushioned chair in the left-hand corner of the room.

This was my home. And the books were my family. It would always give me something the outside world could never hope to give me. Did I know this for certain? No. But I didn't want to waste my life looking. I did my fair share of traveling; but no matter where I went, it was all essentially the same. Slight differences in temperature, dialect, language, governments, belief-systems, culture - interesting for a brief time I suppose, but then the mundane and repetitiveness sets in and you're left with a million words trying to describe one idea. I would find myself desperately asking around town for the whereabouts of the local library. In the end, that was the only reason I traveled at all. I'm glad I did though because I found my favorite library in the world. I would move there shortly after.

I had a few friends growing up and I suppose a few close acquaintances during my professional career, but there was'nt anyone I was particularly attatched to. They would often tell me to go out and meet people, to try my hand at a social life. I tried, I really did. This may sound strange, but no matter who I was in the presense of, I always felt like I was being suffocated. All of these eyes on me, judging me, excpecting something from me, wanting something. Maybe I'm just inherently and irrevocably selfish, but I always hated the idea of giving something up and not knowing for sure if it would be returned in full. I have often been dissapointed in the passed and ever since I've kept myself at a safe distance.

I do get lonely, which I think is a big reason I like the library so much - you are never alone. You are constantly in the presense of like-minded people; you exist together, doing what you love, excpecting nothing but peace and quiet from each other - that alone is enough for me. I'm a simple man. I don't need much. The thousands of stories I've read act as an all-encompassing placebo to my needs. My dreams and aspirations are satisfied completely - until one day.

It was a day like any other, it just happened to be Spring on a Saturday afternoon and the sun was shining slightly through the window to my left, filtering through the bookcases and cutting across my lap. I was finishing the last chapter of my book when I noticed one of the librarians, an older woman by the name of Elena making her way down the isle towards me. I had never really noticed before, but she was incredibly beautiful. She had a book in her left hand and with her right, she curled her bangs almost nervously around her ear as she looked at the floor in front of her as she walked. A few feet in front of me, she looked up and our eyes met. Neither of us said anything for at least ten seconds, or so it seemed. She took her hand down from her hair and placed it on the book which she held down in front of her.

"I'm sorry to disturb you like this, but I was wondering if you would be interested in this book. I don't mean to intrude on your privacy, but I have noticed over the months the kinds of novels you've been reading and I'm quite delighted to say that many of them are among my favorites. I really think you would enjoy this one." I've never heard her speak with such an anxious and enthusiastic tone before. I couldn't help but blush, something I haven't done in a long time. The sun was slightly in her eyes, so she probably couldn't tell. I stood up almost immediately and gently grasped the book from her outstretched hands.

"Thank you, I was looking for something to read next", was all I could come up with. Our eyes remained locked for the next several moments, until she broke the silence with a slight shake of her head. "Well, I better get back to work. When you're ready, I'd be happy to check you out." She left me with a smile and walked back to her desk. I stood there for a few minutes not realizing how much time had passed, almost unconscoiusly basking in the sunlight holding the book tight against my chest. I sat down and finished the last few pages of the other book and quickly made my way over to the check out desk. Elena was busy helping someone use the library index, and not wanting to bother her, I checked out with one of the other employees.

I rushed home and started on the book straight away. Stopping only to eat and use the bathroom, I would finish it later that night. After thinking about it for a bit, it was the first book I've read from start to finish outside of the library. Something took a hold of me. I no longer had that strong sense of uneasyness that plagued me for so many years. The chaos and ugliness may have still been there, but it no longer passed through my field of vision. I had one thing on my mind, and that was the fact that I couldn't wait to share my thoughts with another person.

- Inspired by the film: Love Comes Lately

Change

2009-03-21T12:50:00.005-04:00

I could see it coming. I didn't want to believe it, but my subconscious could no longer maintain the illusion. After ten years, you really know someone. The way she smiled. The way she kissed me. None of it was the same anymore. She wasn't cheating on me; she's not that kind of person. Day to day though I could feel her slipping away. She no longer felt for me the way I still felt for her. It's not her fault though, nor is it mine. Emotion is purely reactive and is not something we can control despite our inherent free will.

A few months after we started dating, while neither of us believed in the idea of marriage, we came to a consensus that we would stick together no matter what. We often discussed the idea that somewhere in the world there would always exist someone else who we found more attractive than one another. Removing ourselves from that never ending and fruitless search, we maintained a fiction that we were each others soul-mates. We would support each other, love each other, grow old together, and change together. We even talked about adopting a child once.

And then it all came to a halt. I knew it the morning she left for work. Not wanting to accidentally wake me up, she would normally leave the bedroom door slightly ajar; that day I woke up and the door was tightly shut. We discussed the situation logically over dinner that evening, and she moved out the following day. And I was alone, repeating to myself one of the last things she said to me, "I still love you, but I've changed". I had no choice but to change as well.

Performance-Based Relationships

2009-03-18T23:32:00.010-04:00

A few months ago I happen to catch a segment of a Dr. Phil show on game addictions. Being an avid gamer myself in the past, despite my contempt for the host, I took an interest in what they were saying. He's not really a doctor, so I'm going to be calling him Phil from now on. Anyway, at the moment I started watching, they were talking to a man in his late twenties, early thirties about an online game he played and the friendships he formed. Phil asked him what sort of character he played and the man replied with, "an elemental shaman". Phil laughed at him as if he were a child and proceeded to ask him why he enjoyed playing the game so much. He went on to say that it was a hobby like any other. He enjoyed the experience of playing in an alternate world and the mechanics of the game-play, along with the interactions with hundreds of others and the friends he acquired. Phil then asked him, "You actually have friends in the game you play?". He said yes and that they interact almost everyday, even sometimes outside of the game, and that he actually met a few of them in real life. Phil and his side-kick expert for the day took over from there. They argued that the friends he acquired in the game-world weren't real friends because their friendship is performance-based. They were only friends with him because they wanted something. This is where I started feeling for the guy. Phil then started spewing out pseudo-facts about how detrimental game addictions are and that they were offering to provide him 'professional' service to help him get rid of his vice.

In his situation, he planned his entire life around the game and while he still maintained a job, he slightly neglected his family and his girlfriend. I will agree that game addictions can be detrimental to a person's overall well-being, but it is no different than any other addiction or hobby for that matter; you can learn to control and balance it. My biggest problem with Phil is his assertion that the man's online friends weren't real. I'm going to take a wild guess here and assume that the all-knowing "Dr." Phil has never played a video game in his life, much less a massive-multiplayer online role-playing game(MMORPG).

I have no problem admitting that I played the ever popular World of Warcraft for about a year straight. I was pretty heavily into it. (If you'd rather skip the geek-talk, feel free to skip this entire paragraph) I leveled four of my characters to level 70: a gnome mage, night-elf hunter, human warlock, and a draenei paladin. During the Burning Crusade, my mage was my main(character). I don't care what anyone says, I'd pwn a warlock any day on the damage meters - especially after the tier 5 bonus with the arcane spec - although I admit I was horrible at pvp. Anyway, I joined up with a mature guild named FortyTwo on the realm Whisperwind. It was a raiding guild and we were able to progress half-way into tier 6 content before Wrath of the Lich King was released. For those of you who are trying to follow this paragraph, 'raiding' is an event in which 25 people get together at once and try to overcome an obstacle known as a dungeon that requires alot of communication and coordination on everyone's part. The encounters I am most proud of are when we were able to defeat Lady Vashj and Prince Kael'thas, along with our ability to achieve the Zul'aman timed event which awarded a Bear Mount which less than 10% of the total people who play the game are able to get. I don't mean to brag by any means, but rather outline the difficultly that went into the achievement.

Here's my bear!

Vashj by FortyTwo of Whisperwind

That's me up front doing a little dance for the camera.

Prince Kael'Thas by FortyTwo of Whisperwind

I'm on the far left. Aren't I a little cutie?

Watch this video to get an idea of the complexity of such an encounter. Also, imagine twenty-five people talking to each other through microphones while all this is going on. As a gamer, this is my attempt to defend our intelligence and to break down any stereotypes that these types of games make people's brains go to mush.

People play these games for different reasons. I played it for the challenge. The satisfaction I got from achieving something with twenty-four others after hours of practice was immeasurable. After playing the game for so long, the more I realized how similar it was to real-life. It had it's own economy, competition, controversy, and groups of people who got together to achieve a similar goal. The people I played with had lives of their own. They have jobs, families, and significant others. It's interesting to notice thought that most of the people in my guild played with their significant others, which is perhaps the reason why the game didn't get in the way of their real life. I admire these people because of their ability to balance the game with the real world. Often after the 'raid', people would just talk.... about the economy, about life, about relationships. If that's not a friend, then what is? I have since stopped playing the game, but I'm still in contact with a few of the people I played with. Above all, for me, it was a distraction. When something acts as a distraction, it becomes dangerous. It was just something I was doing while trying to find my true passion. After I found it, I was able to let the game go. I did enjoy the experience though and there might be a day I'll return, but when and if I do, it will not be my first priority like it once was.

Phil's argument was that online friends aren't real because they are performance-based. I can see where he is coming from with this argument, but I don't agree. Much of the game takes quite a bit of skill, and often when groups are forming, the best players are picked first. My guild's raids for example....only twenty-five people can go, while there are more than that who want to go. Depending on the maturity of the people you group with, it is possible for someone who pretends to be your friend in attempt to get you to help them out with something. This is where the false friendship comes into play. I would say that the average adult can probably see through this front, which is part of the reason I disagree with Phil. Contrary to popular belief, most of people's play time is spent socializing; it's in these times that most of the real friendships are formed.

I'm also going to argue that all friendships, and even most relationships in general are performance-based. According to Phil, true friends are the product of unrequited friendship. With this mode of thinking, a friendship with a rock could exist. Before I go any further I want to give my own definition of friendship. Friendship to me, is a bond that exists between two parties which requires reciprocation on both ends. When searching for a friend or a lover, you look for someone you can connect with. In order for this connection to be made, participation is required from each person. Phil says that online friends aren't real because they only want something from you. How is this different in real life? I'd argue that all friendships and most relationships exist because of a constant exchange of goods and services. The main difference between a friend and an acquaintance is the frequency and importance of these goods and services that are exchanged. The ability to exchange these things whether it be advice, a sentiment, or a shoulder to cry on is in essence a performance. The better performance, the better the friend is.

Textograph time! The Xs are the exchange of goods and services. You can imagine what the Os are.

Acquaintance -------------------------------Friend---------Lover
x x x x x x x x x xx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxoxoxooXOXOXO

It is my opinion that unrequited love exists largely among immediate family, more often from parent to child. We all have some level of unrequited compassion within us, but friendship does not require it. While it is possible to have unrequited love or compassion for someone else, this does not necessarily require any form of relationship. While unrequited, compassion is just another good or service that may or may not spark a relationship. It is a theory of mine though that compassion grows with connection. While it may not start the relationship, it will keep it going.

And as Forest Gump said after his audience had absolutely no idea what he was talking about previously, "that's all I have to say about that".

P.S. - Go Alliance!

Chance

2009-03-16T00:06:00.006-04:00

Through the fog of his breath, he spins his key chain clockwise like he always does to find the correct key to open his apartment door. There are two similar keys for different locks located right next to each other and after a two years, he never knew which one was which. Every night coming home, he would blindly choose one of them and try his luck. He could have easily separated them or put an identification marker on one, but he was comfortable with the idea that he would never know for sure which one to choose and that he would forever need to take a chance. Being as bitterly cold as it was tonight, he regretted slightly this silly commitment, but he figured the comfort he would feel as he entered his home would be that much more worth it.

Kicking his shoes off next to the door and sliding his jacket off and onto the back of the a chair in his kitchen, his body slowly adjusted to the change in temperature while his face emitted the slightest smirk. He proceeded to squeeze his wallet out of his front-right pocket and unclip the carabiner that allowed his keys to hang freely in his left-side pocket and plopped both on the top of his microwave. He made his way over to the stereo in the living room to put some on music to listen to while he cooked dinner. Wincing the Night Away by The Shins was already in the disc tray from the previous night and he was in a similar mood, so all he had to do was press play. In a very low tone, 'New Slang' began filling the apartment with sound, and feeling.

After scanning all the cabinets and rummaging through the fridge, he finally decided on his favorite dish, caramelized onions served over slices of slightly fried tofu and asparagus. Plucking the ingredients out of different levels of the fridge one by one and balancing everything in his arms, he heard a thump in the adjacent room and stood up straight with a start, sending an onion through the air and into the living room. A second later his roommate came trotting out of the other room, looked down at the onion for a second, and walked straight to the couch in the living room and curled up on the corner cushion. "Thanks for picking that onion up, I appreciate it. I thought you were out...what have you been up to all day?" - no response. "You know, sometimes I feel like I'm talking to the wall."

He turned the lower-left burner on high and let it heat up while he cut the onions into strips. "I hope these don't make you cry. I'm not sure why, but I think I've become so used to the fumes, they don't bother me anymore. I could hold my eye-lids wide open, jump into a pool of peeled onions and not a single tear would fall. I think maybe the tears are converted at a constant rate and transferred to my salivary glands and released that way". His roommate looked over at him for a second perhaps to show the was listening and shortly after turned back to his previous direction and placed his head in his arms. "I really wish the reverse was possible, I'm a little tired of constantly washing all of these sheets and pillow cases due to your night-time drooling problem."

He drizzled a pan with some olive oil, threw the onions in, and placed it over the burner. He fetched a spatula from the utensils drawer and used it to move the onions around as they browned. "So what's wrong, you haven't said a thing since I got home. You know, you can talk to me. I know I might not always have the right thing to say, but at least you can get some things off your chest." - no response "I tell you what, I'm going to guess what you're thinking, and by not responding, I'll assume that I'm right and continue".

The onions continued to caramelize and the sweet odor filled the air. "Wow, that smells amazing.... don't you think? I'm crying so hard, you can't even see it." ...."Ok, here goes. Feel free to jump in at any time. You're wondering how I come home happy every day. You think that you're the only one in the world who is constantly worrying about how you appear to other people, and that maybe..... just maybe you could have done something different to better represent yourself. You think that you're so bad at communicating, no one understands you, that there's no hope for improvement, and that you're better off just not trying at all."

Moving the onions over the a corner of a pan, he made room for the slices of asparagus and tofu. "I can tell you for a fact that you are not alone. It is constantly on my mind. You cannot let this bother you though. You have to come to terms with the communication gap that will always exist between people. What you mustn't be concerned with is how people perceive you, but instead your ability...... and yes everyone has this ability to improve your own image and the way you display yourself. Imagine fishing for example..... because I know you love fish. The hook is what makes you, you.... and the bait is your will to communicate. Improve the bait, and someone will bite. Sharpen the hook, and the odds you will connect skyrocket.

Using the spatula, he flips both the tofu and asparagus to let their reverse sides brown a bit. "What you also must realize is that chance is a huge part of life, it's something you can't help. Patience and persistence will be your greatest tools. And while you're waiting for someone to bite, you can find comfort in the waves and constant ripples in the water in which you are wading, for you are connected nonetheless." He fetches a plate from the left most cabinet and places it on the counter. After turning the burner off, he uses the spatula to scrape the contents of the pan onto his plate and places the empty pan in the sink. He pours himself a glass of red wine and brings his food into the living room and places it on the coffee table.

"I hope you ate already, I feel really bad eating in front of you like this.....even though I know you hate vegetables. I'm glad we had this talk, I feel a lot better." He used his right hand to eat and his left to rub his best friend's neck. "You understand me don't you boy?" He continued to enjoy his dinner with the soft tones of The Shins and the calming purrs of his cat.

Ink

2009-03-13T00:30:00.001-04:00

Crossing his legs on the corner of a bench in his favorite park about a block from his apartment, he propped his notebook up against his knee and proceeded to jot down his feelings for the day. Looking up only a few times to make sense of his thoughts by gazing into mesh of colors that made up the tie-dyed horizon, he maintained a steady conversion of memories to ink until the surface of the paper reflected exactly what existed in his mind. With each new sentence, a new smirk emerged on his face as he the relationship he had with himself continued to evolve.

Meanwhile the earth continued to revolve, revealing less and less of the sunlight that allowed this boy to make the most important connections of his life. With the wind picking up slightly along with a drop in temperature as the sun left the sky, he scribbled his last words for the day. He slipped the pen in his right-hand pocket and after closing his notebook, he placed it at the very edge of bench to his left. Being in a relatively good mood without having to be anywhere else, he figured he'd enjoy the peacefulness of the area until the moon came out. He knew it wasn't yet in the first quarter, so he wouldn't have to wait long. He pivoted his body clockwise, lifted his feet up onto the bench, laid back, and folded his arms on his chest as he gazed East into the sky where the moon would soon become visible.

As it became dark enough, the lights throughout the park started to flicker on, one by one. There was a light at every bench, separated by about forty yards along the sidewalk which cut through the center of the park. It was a different place at night. Simultaneously quaint and mysterious, he felt as if the park encompassed the personality of something or someone he longed for. If he just waited there long enough, he would be able to communicate with the night, bridging the gap from the previous day in which he discovered himself. He closed his eyes for a brief moment in an honest attempt.

A shriek of wind stirred at the very end of the walkway and he sat up with a start. A chill shot up his spine when it happened again. He stared down the sidewalk to the last light he could see. Each burst of wind became increasingly louder, sounding more similar to screams as their intensity grew. All of a sudden, as if contained within a funnel from where the sound emitted from, a gust of wind spiraled his way, knocking his notebook to the ground. The pages flipped and eventually landed on the entry he had just finished writing. While pondering this for a second, he heard a light bulb burst in the distance. After a second, another one broke. Like a row of firecrackers, the lights exploded in quick succession toward him, adding a new layer of darkness to the night.

It all happened so fast he didn't have time to react. Like a deer in the headlights, he had no choice but to stand there and watch fate unfolded in front of him. He glanced down at his notebook and read the last seven words of his entry, "my imagination will never cease to exist". And just like that, there was silence. He looked up and witnessed a vast tidal wave of darkness that stretched to the edge of the park down to the last line of his journal entry. He took his pen out of his right pocket, unscrewed the top, and held it out in front of him. The ink condensed and made its way back to where it belonged, revealing the sidewalk and the lights that illuminated it.

Opening his eyes, he didn't see the moon to the East where he was facing, but to the West. It was smiling at him, and he was smiling back.

Birds Eye View

2009-03-11T00:02:00.001-04:00

As discovered from Timothy "Speed" Levitch in one of my favorites films Waking Life, Thomas Mann admitted that he would rather participate in life than write 100 stories. As a writer this must have meant that while he was writing his stories, he would have preferred to be somewhere else. To me, this could have been for two possible reasons. One, a physical problem: he was in a situation where he couldn't actually participate. Maybe he was stuck in the hospital or his wife was away. Two, a mental problem: perhaps even though he said he would rather participate, his personality prevents him from doing so. Either he prefers to just watch as the world goes by from a birds eye view, or he sees things that are unfolding in front of him that he would rather now be involved in. I consider the latter to be a possibility because some folks wish that they were ignorant so that they could be happy. As the saying goes, ignorance is bliss.

In a sense, what Mann is saying is that he would rather live a fully content day-to-day life instead of writing at all. Being a Wistful Author, he writes about things that bother him. If nothing bothered him, he might abstain from writing altogether. You start thinking about people's ratios of participation and observation. What Mann is describing is 100% participation. While this is not possible due to human's ability to think and find faults, it would probably be everyone's preference; it would be equivalent to pure bliss. Imagine a love-long orgasm, a permanent lovers embrace, or a constant state of the 'holy moment' acted out in the film.

Timothy goes on to say that 'an assumption develops' that you cannot live and understand life simultaneously. In my opinion some folks spend an excess amount of time trying to understand this absurd life. Well-known authors such as Friedrich Nietzsche and possibly David Wallace ended their own lives because they thought too much, to the point of madness. I'm making a huge assumption here, but bare with me while I attempt to make a point. Being very intelligent and logical, their happiness came from understanding. In their tireless quest to understand, the life in which they knew became meaningless to the point of not worth living. In a depressing sort of way, their suicides proved this assumption right.

Adding his own belief, Timothy says that 'life understood is life lived'. I don't agree entirely. One of the biggest reasons is that I don't believe it is possible for humans to fully understand life. But at the same time like Nietzsche, I cannot stop trying to figure it out; it's in my nature and is what I get most of my fulfillment from. I would tweak the quote a bit by saying that even though it may be impossible to understand life completely, the quality of life depends entirely on the undertaking. Depending wholly on the person and their need to understand, failing in that attempt will prove to be an empty life. With the realization though that you can never hope to understand life to any final degree, you can learn to balance your evolving comprehension with the rest of your human instincts. With this in mind, you can avoid the fate of some of the greatest thinkers in history.

Holding Hands

2009-03-10T22:20:00.004-04:00

"Have fun tonight sweetie, make some friends!", his mother said as he stepped out of the car. With a bland smirk he glanced at her and said, "I'll try, mom". He gently closed the door and made his way over the side entrance of the church. The other kids were doing the same, but they were running. When he got to the door, he looked back and waved as his mother drove away. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and entered the last place he'd prefer to be on a beautiful Sunday evening.

Through the first door way with his hands in his pockets, he strolled over to the meeting room where everyone was. Amongst the chatter, he squeezed through the crowd and sat down on one of the benches. After about five minutes, one of the grown ups in charge walked to the center of the room and starting calling out names by age, and sorted the children into groups of ten or so with an appointed instructor. Hearing his name, he quickly popped off the bench and shuffled over to his group. Two boys in front of him where whispering to each other. A moment later one of them sneaked up behind a girl in front of the group, knelt down and peaked up her skirt. Not wanting to be caught, he moved fast and got back to his friend as soon as he could. Having slightly too much momentum, he could not stop himself soon enough before bumping into the boy who caught him in the act. "Hey man, sorry about that. What's your name? I'm Mark". Red in the face, he gulped hard and replied hesitantly."My name is Alex, nice to meet you".

All the groups were sorted by now, so each instructor lead each of them into the nearest hallway, further into the building to their designated classrooms. Holding his right hand out, he felt the studded paneling as he walked and noticed the many photographs equally spaced out on the wall. Each one was of an elderly man dressed up in white Alex assumed were past Priests and Bishops of the church. Less than half of them were smiling.

Walking in the back of the group, he had the last choice of a seat when they entered the room. Luckily there was a seat open to the right of Mark. The room was very small, white, and confining with a circular table in the middle. There was one window, but the blinds were closed. Up on the walls there were pictures of nature with passages from the bible written on them as well as a calender of various church-related events.

After taking attendance and introducing herself, the instructor stood up and said, "Let us begin with a prayer". She held out her arms and instructed everyone to hold hands. Alex took hers in right hand and Mark's in his left. "Since this is our first day, it's OK if you don't know the words; but I expect all of you learn them for next week". Alex knew the words, but pretended he didn't. The prayer started and everyone stared down at the table as they spoke in a monotone. Alex did the same but he kept glancing up around the room in a counter-clockwise motion to see if anyone else remained silent. To his surprise, everyone was speaking. He turned his head slightly to the left at Mark and his eyes slowly traveled from his eyes, shoulder, arm, and finally to his side where their hands were clasped together.

He felt completely at ease. All his nervousness and tension leading up to this point had suddenly disappeared. He was in another world. The walls of the room floated away revealing the beautiful autumn sky. The table was no longer there and all was serene. There were trees around them and grass at their feet. Hands together, the two of them floated there together as if nothing else mattered in the world. His vision not budging from the connection they made, he expressed a melancholic smile and his tear ducts began to swell.

"Let go of my hand fag!". The whole class burst out in laughter. Coming to, Alex quickly released his grip from Mark's hand. Eyes wide, breathing fast, he sat down with a thump, moved his chair over the right a little, stared down at the white table and let out a weak, "I'm sorry". The instructor looked at Alex oddly for a few seconds, and then as if nothing had happened, continued the class. Alex spent the next forty minutes pretending he didn't exist.

On the way home, he tried his best to look as cheerful as possible. Alex loved his mother very much and he knew she had high hopes for him. "How was your first day honey?" "Oh, it was OK" "Did you meet any new friends?" "Yeah, a few" "You know, I still remember my first day. I was very shy like you are; I was a nervous wreck. It might sound silly, but as soon as we all held hands for our first prayer, I felt like I fit in. After that, I was fine. Do they still do that?" "Yes, they do."

Alone in is bed later that night, he was finally able to let go. Soaking his pillow with a steady and silent flow of tears, he was able to drift away to a place where he felt most comfortable.

Walking Cliches

2009-03-09T11:44:00.000-04:00

Have you ever imagined yourself as nothing more than a blip on a radar screen, drifting to-and-fro among millions of others? Perhaps as a flower in a field of daisies as they sway back and forth together as the wind blows, or a random color in a box of crayons? Are we content with the idea that we are just like everyone else? I'm guessing the general answer would probably be no. What it seems like is that most folks make every effort possible to be different. Makes you wonder why.

Many of us are raised with the idea that we are special and unique, and that there's one thing we can do better than anyone else. To me, this simply is not true. But I would imagine that it is this teaching that promotes growth in many people and leads them to successful careers. It urges us to find this one thing that is special about us, to find a direction, and to feel like an individual. While this may not be the only factor that contributes to how we live ours lives, it certainly has a large effect.

I think that most people hate the idea of being slaves to their genes. Our bodies are just a robotic shell, whose actions are dictated by our DNA and the endless instructions carried out by the brain. From a scientific standpoint, humans are 99.9% alike. That last 0.1% refers to an ever so slight difference in a section of double helix, which contributes to our slight difference of appearance and personality. In a sense, this difference is what makes us unique from each other. Even though this difference isn't really very significant, our strong urge to be different actually contributes to many benefits including variety, which generally give more options, and as a result makes the human race more prosperous.

As well as our strong desire to feel like a separate and unique entity, our competitive society also forces us to live and act beyond our normal persona. While I'd like to think that this superficial obligation only exists in a business environment, I think maybe it also has quite a large role in our personal lives. In order to be noticed, you must take special measures; whether it be for a potential job or a mate. It may even be that by doing this, we've conditioned our brains to act this way automatically without actually being aware of it. I've always felt comfortable with the idea though that we are constantly aware of acting outside of who we are.

For the longest time, I tried very hard to not fall into the category of any cliche. Along with my personal need to feel different, I always took anything that was considered 'normal' with a grain of salt. While it may be a bit depressing at first, I've realized that I am just like everyone else; and the more I try to be different, the more I am cheating myself. I am slowly learning to embrace my subtle differences, and while doing this may disallow me to obtain some of things I long for, nothing is worth being fake.

The Art of Fiction

2009-03-08T23:13:00.007-04:00

Swinging his arms with the natural movement of his body; putting one foot in front of that other as if each step would add another day to his life, he continued his steady jog down the sidewalk on main street towards the bridge that leads into the city. With his eyes transfixed on the lights of the sun as they bounced off he moon and streamed their way through the earth's atmosphere to illuminate his path, he trudged on through the night's cool air.

Navigating himself across the street before the bridge and through the enclosed entrance, he continued on to the separated walk area on the left side. Having a slight incline, he strained a bit to keep up his pace, but tried his best to ignore the pain as he approached the plateau. Having no real destination, he used the moon as his compass and continued to make his way across this man-made structure with a spherical glow in his sights.

He chose the left side so that he could see the oncoming traffic. While there was a divider, it was only waste-high and he felt more secure knowing what was coming. Deep in his thoughts though, who knows if anything could have caused him to break out of his trance. Shuffling through the chaotic memories, one in particular he concentrated on for five, six, seven steps, and like a light beam had burned right through the back of eye and continued to pass through his brain and out of the back of his head and down to the earth, anchoring him to the ground, everything became still.

A moment later, what seemed like an eternity to him, the beam shattered and his head reverberated, producing a mind-numbing ring. He mistook it for a horn, and not seeing anything in front him he whipped his head around his shoulder. Such a sudden movement threw him off balance and as he tried to turn straight ahead, he tripped over his own feet causing his body to be thrown right into the divider. Being exceptionally agile, while his feet were all tangled, he was able to catch himself somewhat without actually topping over into the road. Slouching over the cement wedge staring at the ground, he heard the distinct sound of a car horn. Looking to where the sound was coming from, his left, two miniature moons were coming his way, and fast. Pushing off as hard as he could, he launched himself backward onto the sidewalk, landing first on his ass and having no choice but to stabilize himself with his elbows.

Not wanting to think about the pain, he lay down and looked up at what comforted him the most, the night sky. Two tears streaming down the sides of his face, the moon was now oblong and he found this strangely comforting. Embracing himself and closing his eyes, he continue to lay there as a part of the bridge. As cars traversed the bridge, it would shake, and with his hands on his chest, he would match the rumbles to the beats of his heart.

After a while, he glanced to the right to see that there was a small opening to allow water to pass through at the bottom of the divider to his right. He watched several cars pass, although all he could see were the tires and bottom portion of the frame. From his sideways perspective, three cars traveled North and four cars traveled South. Looking down the sidewalk itself, he saw an army of ants marching North, with huge amounts of dirt on their back. Just the fact that he witnessed more cars traveling in the opposite direction of the ants made him smile. He would finish his run while clinging on to this very thought.

Fluid Emotion

2009-03-06T22:56:00.001-05:00

Imagine a big bowl of liquid happiness. You can't simply use your hand and scoop it out as you please, but instead you must use two fingers and pinch together as much as you can before it evaporates. Slowly I'm coming to the realization that happiness and fulfillment are extremely temporary and fleeting. You don't simply find it; you must constantly work to hold onto it. You often see in the movies someone who becomes happy and blurts out something along the lines of, "I'm so happy, I could die right now". This might lead you to believe that once you achieve it, you won't ever lose it. This might be why I have trouble with Buddhism and the "enlightenment" process. Like most of my posts, I have done no research prior to writing them. I am under the assumption that once you become enlightened, you are indefinitely fulfilled. It all seems like a final destination, and of course I have huge issues with anything that's considered to be final.

A friend was once described to me as never being happy. This didn't strike me as being odd, because, well, who is every really happy? I suppose maybe this person has higher standards than most people, and so it is that much harder for them to find whatever it is they want. The point I want to get across though is that happiness isn't constant and only occurs in short bursts. So in a sense, we are all essentially wistful by nature. While it is possible to come to a point in your life where happiness occurs more often, it's virtually impossible for it to be constant.

When thinking about the millions of connections that are made in the brain every second, it's hard to believe all of them would contain thoughts of happiness. Longing for example is something most experience every single day. It's quite unavoidable and is just one instance that detracts from our happiness. We all yearn for something, and have incessant needs that do not dissipate over time. We all changed psychologically over time as well and those needs change.

Much like plucking a fly out of the air with a pair of tweezers, we have to learn how to obtain what we want and maintain a strict effort to make it last. I might sound like I'm contradicting my earlier post about free will and determinism if I say it's completely up to us and our efforts to obtain happiness, so I will say this: Human are whimsical beings. We may never understand what exactly makes us happy, but we have a general idea. While our happiness may be entirely deterministic, if you throw enough darts, sooner or later, you'll hit the center. Eventually, while you may never get the exact muscle memory to do it every time, you can learn to hit it much more often. We make whimsical changes to our lives out of pure curiosity and we learn to harness these changes so that have a higher chances of hitting the bulls-eye. Avoiding any conflictions with my strong devotion to determinism, all of these are indirect changes. Not entirely a shot in the dark, much like quantum mechanics, but an educated guess.

The Wistful Author

2009-03-01T17:33:00.006-05:00

I'm not sure if it's just the authors I have been reading, but beneath all of the stories there seems to be an underlying tone of melancholy integrated into each sentence. I went to a museum of art yesterday with my father and stepmother and we took a small tour in which they explained how they used an x-ray to authenticate each painting. By scanning through each layer, you can see how the painting was produced, step by step. By doing this you can better imagine what the artist was thinking while they worked. The first layer of one painting contained a sketch of a woman's face, and the complete product was that of a flower garden.

If only this were possible with literature. I remember watching an interview on television of an author of a book about her family. The interviewer brought up that while reading her book, even though it wasn't written from a third person perspective, he felt as if she was doing just that. Mind you this was several years ago, so I'm not exactly sure what they said. But when he questioned her about how he felt that her writing seemed to be somewhat detached, she didn't wholly refute it. He then asked her if she felt that most authors were introverts and actually prefer to observe and write about their surroundings instead of actually being involved. A few details aside, I believe she agreed with his assertion. From her tone of voice and body language, she was a little hesitant in admitting it, but you could tell that's how she felt.

I certainly can't assign this home-made stereotype to every author who ever existed, but perhaps a big chunk of them. Of course the one that pops into my head first is Jane Austin. I've never read any biographies of her, but I did see the movie Becoming Jane; from what I've heard, it's pretty accurate. Her real-life romance did not endure, but she vowed that women in her novels would not share the same fate. These authors yearn for something incredible, something of great value to them, and after coming to the realization that these things are very rarely obtained in real-life, they've devoted themselves to creating this special something in their own writing. This is why they write. This is why I write.

Relating to the comics in my last post, for some folks it just isn't enough to experience something. By writing their thoughts down, they are either making more sense of past events (non-fiction), or morphing experiences into an alternate reality (fiction) which tells a story that encompasses a more complete and fulfilling experience; or it could be a mixture of the two. Either way, it seems to me that these authors aren't content until they get the contents of their mind on paper. So I wonder if we were all to become content with our lives as is, would there be any more literature? I suppose science-related work would be exempt here. I believe they say that most art (including novels) stem from extreme emotion generated from some sort of tragedy. Imagine if you could somehow examine every single penny in every single fountain in the world and trace it back to the wish of the person who made it. "World Peace", would be in the majority. Imagine if that were to come true.

The Blogsphere

2009-02-28T07:52:00.006-05:00

After a little early spring cleaning, I came across a comic strip my mother cut out for me a few years ago, as seen above. I was always very quiet and I used to blog often because writing was my strong form of communication. So you can see why my mother thought this comic was funny. I found a similar one on the internet, which can be seen below. I think the purpose that they were created was to poke fun at some people's need to jot down every detail of their life and post it on the internet. Especially nowadays, communication between parties such as child and parent is reduced to light chit chat, while most emotions and feelings get expressed through a vast social network known as the internet. It's no longer enough to just experience something and share it with a few close friends. By posting your thoughts on the internet, you're exposing yourself to many more people, and so you're likely to get much more feedback. And we all love feedback.

Limits of Human Kind

2009-02-24T06:05:00.008-05:00

I was at a party a few days ago and I found myself playing the ever popular Guitar Hero with some friends. I was a bit drunk at the time so I wasn't playing as well as I could have if I were sober, but I wasn't doing too bad. On the song selection screen, I paused on one of the songs towards the bottom that sparked a memory. A few summers ago I played this game non-stop for weeks. I mastered the lower levels quite fast. As the songs got progressively harder, I spent more and more time trying to get the technique right. When I got to that one song though, I hit a brick wall. After a few hours of playing the same song over and over again and becoming increasingly frustrated, I shut the game off and went for a jog. I would come back to that one song the next day, the day after that, and so on until after about a week when I finally was able to complete it. I did a little celebration dance and then continued on to the next song. I did worse on this song than I did my first attempt on the previous one. Figuring it would take me 2 weeks this time, I decided to find something else to do with my time.

You start to wonder, is there a point at which there is no hope for improvement? On my jog I thought back to a concept I learned about back in high school algebra. You have a distance you have to travel, but you can only go half way each step. You get considerably closer with each step, but you'll never actually get there. You might never get there, but you'll also never stop getting closer. This is the idea of a limit. Putting this in real-life terms, the idea of that limit would equivalent to absolute truth, which is the goal of science.

I personally have a hard to time believing humans have the capacity to uncover such a truth. Perhaps such a truth doesn't actually exist. Maybe instead of the first example of cutting something in half indefinitely, think of the graph of X squared. It doesn't have a limit, but at the same time the rate at which it(X) increases decreases over time forever. It could be said that the limit is infinity.

It would seem that generally, for things to make most sense to us, everything has a beginning and ending. Thinking about the theory to the beginning of the universe: the big bang, something is essentially created from nothing. At least that's how most folks understand it. According to the theory, the universe was initially infinitely condensed. Now, I'm not even sure what that means, but it would seem to me that according to the theory, the universe was not created from nothing. Now, if there was something at the beginning of time, then that really wasn't the begging at all. Anyway, I've since adopted the idea of the infinite. I don't believe there was a beginning, and I don't believe there will be an end.

Getting back to my pessimistic view that humans are extremely limited to how much they can discover about the universe, I'd like to bring up the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. I first encountered this idea in the book by Stephen Hawking, A Brief History of Time. It describes in great detail the observer effect, which states that in order to measure something, you must touch it. By touching it, you are moving it, therefore rendering the measurement inaccurate. Related to particle physics, the uncertainty principle suggests that it is impossible to know both the exact location and momentum of a particle at any given moment.

This then gave way to quantum mechanics, which attempts to describe and predict the movements of subatomic particles, which appear to be random. Now, I have absolutely no knowledge of quantum mechanics, or even particle physics for that matter, but from what I know, I believe their movements only appear random because we don't have any real way of measuring them accurately. And no matter how sophisticated our equipment gets, I don't believe there's any real way of avoiding the observer effect. Our human measurements will forever be inaccurate. With our current problems of measurement, there might still exist even smaller particles that we aren't aware of, smaller than that of electrons, protons, and their constituents, a vast variety of quarks. Perhaps matter is infinitely small.

There's a saying that the journey is more important than the destination, which I think might have been Einstein. To me this is true because absolute destination doesn't really exist. The idea of a destination is important though because it provides us with a direction. Living day to day with the idea that you may never reach the end-all goal of a destination, you can find comfort in the evidence that you can continuously improve.

Criminal Justice

2009-02-21T09:03:00.009-05:00

First off I would like to thank Jennifer, the author of the blog Cozy Toes for her recommendations. The lecture by Daniel C. Dennett led me to a cute little comic strip that illustrates the issue with free will.

The Dilbert comic along with parts of the lecture left me wondering about the law and criminal justice. Being inherently passive, I've never been too concerned about the law. I figure if I'm content enough with the way things are, there's really no reason for me to get involved. I do watch the news and read up on articles from time to time, but it's just not all that interesting to me.

I've always been very humble in the fact that I could never really know anything for sure. Terms such as right, wrong, good, evil, and morality have meant nothing more to me than just words whose meanings were fabricated and linked to religions and other belief systems. So naturally I've never felt any sort of need to become involved with politics. From my point of view, many politicians or even folks who join the police force or organizations such as the FBI are very passionate people who have a strong sense of what they believe to be right and wrong.

It is for this very reason I could never be a cop, or a judge for that matter. I was watching COPS on television a few weeks ago and they were setting up traps for prostitutes. An undercover cop would pose a civilian who would lure women into their car and eventually get them to name their price. It's at this point when she is arrested. I was just sitting there wondering what was going through these people's minds. Maybe something along the lines of, "yes, we've successfully captured another dirty hooker, we did the right thing" or "this scum is polluting our society, she deserves to be behind bars", or maybe "whoohoo, I did my job, I will most certainly get a raise for this". I felt bad for the woman. I did some light research on the subject, but I could find nothing substantial to convince me that prostitution should be illegal.

While I may disagree with many people's beliefs, I won't deny that in order to live peacefully, we need some sort of government. We then also need people to enforce the laws instituted, no matter their personal beliefs. In my early teenage years I used to go around spray-painting various objects with the symbol for anarchy. I didn't quite grasp the full implications of such a society, but I realized that whatever it was, it would be fair. A free for all, survival of the fittest, as described by one of the villains from The Dark Knight (can't remember if it was the Joker or Two-Face).

So getting back to what I originally planned on discussing, the issue of free will and the law, in regards to how we should treat criminals. In the first part of his lecture, Dennett describes how psychologists suggest how new discoveries in neuroscience will change the way we treat criminals. This puzzles me a bit. I'm not exactly sure how the law treats criminals today, but in my opinion, our understanding of consciousness and free will should not alter the punishment. If you break the law, regardless of whether or not you had the capacity of choosing between one option or another, you will be dealt with accordingly. If you break the law, you are liable to do it again.

Thinking about the Dilbert comic, the little dog questions our ability to 'blame' people for their actions with the idea that all of our actions are controlled by our brain. This somehow suggests that the brain and the person are separate entities. Blame the person. Blame the brain. They are one in the same. And I think that pretty wraps up what I wanted to get across. I meant for this to be a short post.

Look what Dilbert does to me!

Secularist Marriage

2009-02-19T00:30:00.004-05:00

I always thought marriage was founded by religion. So I never really understood why atheists and gay couples ever felt the need to get married, except maybe for the benefits. Perhaps marriage was strongly tied to religion in the past, which might be why religious folks fought so strongly to prevent same-sex marriages, but after a quick Miriam-Webster visit, there is no mention of religion in the definition.

From a religious point of view, marriage is the symbol of god's plan to match two people up together. I would imagine that most religious folks believe in soul mates, so this ritual would serve a dual purpose. So what does marriage mean to everyone else? Maybe it was just invented by the government as incentive to the rest of us to get married, have a family, and further perpetuate the ideal American dream.

Going along with my most recent blogs, perhaps marriage is simply a communication from one person to another that states both parties are ready to stop the search for their ideal mate; not because they found this person, but because they are ready to compromise. Obviously though from recent divorce rates, this doesn't often last long. Which makes you wonder why.

My grandparents are still married, on both my mother's and father's side. When they got married, I believe they were very religious, but I don't think that was the reason they decided to get married. I'm not sure what their religions are today, but they got married because of their situations. The biggest reason being children, which I'm sure is the reason for 90% of the marriages even today. And they stayed married. This doesn't anymore. I'm assuming it has to do with the slow evaporation of traditional 'gender roles'. The women used to be very depended on their husband and just couldn't afford to leave him. I'm almost positive if I asked either of my grandparents if they believed they were married to their soul mates, they would laugh in my face. The idea that there is probably a better match for you somewhere in the world I'm sure is not my invention.

The one thing I can also say about my grandparents is that they love each other. There's just no doubt in my mind. Whatever love is, they have it. They argue constantly. Sometimes it even seems that they might hate each other from time to time, but they can always find something to laugh about during dinner. This makes it all worth it.

Connecting to my previous blog about attraction, and thinking about the unique personalities of the woman form Sex and the City, it all depends on the person. Samantha for example is on a vigorous search for the perfect man, going through them like candy. Her three friends Miranda, Charlotte, and Carrie on the other hand are a bit more selective and careful. As an end to the series(the movie), while her friends end up with the guy everyone knew they would end up with, she leaves a seemingly perfect relationship because of her unwillingness to compromise. This is just the kind of person she is.

Coming to the realization that it is impossible to search the entire world for the person who comes closer than anyone else to your ideal, how do you know when it's time to stop searching and settle down with a person you feel comfortable compromising with? I suppose it all depends on how ambitious you are, and your standards in general. Some people will search forever, like Samantha Jones, while others are content to settle. Much like finding a soul mate, I wonder if it's equally as difficult to find another person willing to settle. Everyone feels comfort in knowing that something or someone will always be there. Unfortunately there are many deciding factors constantly in flux, there's no way to know for sure. I cannot dwell on these thoughts though, as they are beyond my control. What I can control is my smile. And it will be in use every single day of my life.

Fading Attraction

2009-02-18T22:43:00.003-05:00

Yet another interesting conversation with my psychology major friend leaves me feeling somewhat conflicted. We were talking about past relationships and whether or not people kept in touch after a break-up. I ask her if she talks to her ex-boyfriends at all, and she says no for the most part. Being very naive on the subject, I couldn't wrap my head around why. She then tells me about a psychology study that suggests that after about three years, a certain sort of attractiveness for another fades. From what she tells me, this has been linked to why most marriages fail after an average of three years. So according to this study, even if you date someone for a few years, break up, wait three years for the feelings to go away, you are able to forget about this person altogether. Perhaps this is the reason they say, 'time heals all wounds'. Just wait three years, and just like that you rid yourself of the pain and longing for another. But is it that simple? I suppose its just the way she told me, but from her tone it sounded like an absolute. And if you've read any of my earlier blogs, you'll notice that absolutes and I don't get along very well.

I wouldn't say it's impossible, but highly situational. People change, both physically and mentally. So I suppose it's not hard to believe how attractiveness would also change. But what really gets me is people's ability to cast away experiences and memories so easily. My cynical view leads me to believe that all people really care about is the here and now. The past is the past, who can hold my attention today? Then again I have a pretty limited view and understanding of my peers. Maybe people do silently cry in the rain.

On Relationships

2009-02-17T23:50:00.000-05:00

Perfection and ideals are purely conceptual by nature, so compromise is essential. This applies to many things, including a careers and relationships. Everyone carries around in their mind an idea of a perfect world. Some concept of an ideal is formed and used as a scale to measure potential real-life situations. As they go through their lives, they choose options closest to their ideal as possible, thus lessening the need for compromise. As better options become available, things are often replaced. Now, unless you believe in soul mates, this includes romantic partners. Compromise is what makes this world go around. When it is absent or has not been established, conflicts occur. Perfection does not exist, and there will always be a gap in people's ideals.

Here's a small excerpt of something I wrote a while ago after scrutinizing the film Before Sunset:

"In a sense, we all have that one person who we compare everyone else to. It may not be your ideal mate, but it is a person in your life you have either dated or befriended who you've identified with on a deeper level than anyone else. It may be a collection of people, a handful, or even just a few. We use this as to gauge new people we encounter. If you're lucky, you'll find someone who goes off the scale. Hell, you're lucky even if someone comes close. This may or may not be true, but from what I know... and from personal experience, we spend an abundant amount of time thinking about this person. Even if you are in a relationship... you might even be somewhat happy with it, but if this person rates even a 9/10 on your mental scale, you can't help but fall victim to the constant flood of thoughts of what could have been, what could be, and if you're willing to repress these thoughts for the sake of your current relationship. "

In my opinion, all attraction is quantitative. Whether you're willing to admit it or not, we measure people, consciously and unconsciously. While objectively, the color of a person's hair or the way they smell are qualitative, they are quantitative to an individual with opinions. Naturally, the person who rates the highest in all categories is usually the one pursued.

Depending on your state of mind, the idea that there will always be someone better than you, can be slightly depressing. The idea that one day you might be replaced can put enough fear and worry in anyone and deter them from starting any sort of relationship.

This cannot stop you from living though. Understand it. Accept it. The important thing is to keep moving while maintaining and embracing the connections you make throughout your life. Despite who you may be with, the connections you make with people should always matter. These are the things that will get you through the day. Keep them close, as they will fulfil you.

At the Bookstore

2009-02-16T19:35:00.003-05:00

After my third visit this week, I was finally able to finish my book. I'm surprised I wasn't kicked out. I was there for over three hours today; I actually used the bathroom twice. In my little nook, on the most uncomfortable wooden chair, I devoured one of their books, for free no doubt. I wonder if they secretly keep track of how long people stay there. Every time one of their employees walked by to straighten out the books, I wondered if they were checking on me. I never really looked up though. I'd see people pass me, but only glance at their shoes. I'd take a brief millisecond break from my book and wonder what kind of person they were.

I did look up though when I noticed they worked there. I was curious what sort people they hired. Most of them were women, a mixture of ages. I think I only saw two men there, out of about ten. After chapter 42 or so, I stood up to stretch. I glanced around the corners of the bookcase where I was sitting and noticed an employee heading towards me as she put some books up on the shelves. I stood there sort of transfixed for a second. Long, dark and wavy hair, piercing eyes, a gentle face, classy and professional, yet sexy outfit, and prescription glasses. The look of a librarian. I sat down quickly in my chair and took a breath. I shoved my head back into my book and hovered over the words as I waited for her to pass. Even though she was only a foot away from me, I could barely hear her say, "Excuse me", as she squeezed by; her voice was soft and kind. "I think I'm in love", I told myself.

After I finished my book though, I found I was gravely mistaken.

Follow Your Passion

2009-02-15T23:50:00.000-05:00

Whenever contemplating a career path, you always get someone who tells you to follow your passion or dreams, while others will say to stick with what you're good at. What if you don't really have a passion, any special dreams, or anything you're particularly good at?

When you think of the word passion, you think of a strong feeling. When someone has a strong passion for something, they spend an abundant amount of time and thought on it. It should be abundantly obvious to a person what their passion is. I'm hesitant in admitting I have any real passion though, because nothing really sticks out. Everyone's passion levels are different, so it's safe to say that even a person with a 1/10 on the passion-o-meter, it's still a passion. I suppose the one interest that stands out from the rest would be considered the person's passion, the one thing that gives that the person the most pleasure.

This world is run by passionate people. I'd say the more passionate you are with the right amount of intelligence, the much more likely you are to succeed, at least financially. If you happen to share the same passion with someone who is either more passionate or intelligent than you are, the less likely you are to succeed. There's even a chance you wouldn't be able to make a living off your passion.

This is where compromise comes in. I remember in the film Adrift In Manhattan, a intelligent man worked a mediocre job as a mail sorter to pursue his passion of painting. This something I definitely admire. I suppose the reason for my stagnancy, is my unwillingness to compromise. Perhaps also, finding a job in which that compromise would be as small as possible.

One last note on passion: If someone is flirting with you and you aren't particularly fond of them, tell them that you have absolutely no passion. I guarantee that'll do the trick.

February 14th

2009-02-14T23:08:00.002-05:00

Two and a half beers in, floating on the last hour of the day, I'm an emotional mess and I have no idea why. I don't really celebrate or even follow holidays, but naturally all the fuss leading up to today coaxed me into feeling this way. Falling asleep the previous night, I imagined my perfect day. Despite how cliche it might have been, it still felt right, and I fell asleep while clinging to the most comfortable image.

I accomplished most of what I wanted to today, but not without lasting afterthoughts. I visited my great grandmother of 86 years. I was hit with an emotional spark a few nights ago, which gave way to a feeling I hadn't experienced in a while. A split-second change of thought, and I suddenly felt the need to become closer to everyone I knew. The first face that popped into my head was that of my great grandmother's. I imagined giving her a hug and asking if she'd like to play scrabble sometime. So that's what I did today. I ended up visiting for upwards of an hour. It was nice, and I could tell she appreciated the visit. I couldn't help but feel for her though as she described her day-to-day difficulties of growing older. She wasn't crying, but I could see from her expression that she was either on the verge, or had been earlier. This is what was imprinted on me.

Believe it or not though, I couldn't think of a better way of spending my valentines day.

The Illusion of Free Will

2009-02-10T20:12:00.007-05:00

While struggling to fall asleep the other night, I found myself pondering the idea of free will. Like all moments, day or night, whenever I get a free moment to let my mind wander, I always begin by asking myself, "what do you believe?". This happens quite a few times during the day. I'm not sure why it's so important, but I'm constantly in a state of questioning myself. I'm at a point in my own personal philosophy in which I will refrain from calling anything a fact. I'm a human. I'm faulted. How could I possibly know anything for sure? By always using the verbs to think or believe, I'm implying a theory, to the best of my knowledge.

So I'm staring up at my bland white ceiling wondering why the hell I can't put myself to sleep, and then I start wandering, keeping myself awake for another couple of hours. I then ask myself what I believe. Reverting back to a conclusion I came to several years ago, I reiterate to myself that we're just a bunch of complex particles. Reading a biography on Einstein, I remember that he said we were all nothing but interacting blobs of energy. Energy, atoms, molecules, matter, we're just a bunch of stuff that by chance interacted and coalesced. After billions upon billions of years of chemical reactions and evolution, here we are.

Now when I say, by chance, I don't mean out of thin air. As a logical sort of individual, I have a strong affinity towards the idea of cause and effect. This leads me to a term I have casually researched: Determinism. This philosophy states that everything that happens is determined by prior events. It contains both the ideas of Materialism(everything contained the universe is nothing but a bunch of material), and Causality(cause and effect).

This then brings me to many aspects of Existentialism. Over the years, I've become a pretty big fan of the ideas postulated within this philosophy. Putting it in a nutshell, one of the most attractive ideas is that we are totally free and individually responsible for our own happiness. Thinking about the idea of being free while believing in deterministic variables naturally leads to some contradictions.

According to determinism, everything including thoughts and actions are determined by prior events, or prior configurations of the molecules in the brain. With this in mind, freedom or free will seem to be nothing more than an illusion. While I think and make decisions of my own accord, it is nothing more than the effect of the firing neurons in my brain. To me, claiming that we do have absolute free will is the same as saying that we have a soul that acts independent of the laws of nature.

I suppose it also depends on the semantics.
- Mirriam Webster: "freedom of humans to make choices that are not determined by prior causes or by divine intervention"
- Standford Encyclopedia of Philosophy: "“Free Will” is a philosophical term of art for a particular sort of capacity of rational agents to choose a course of action from among various alternatives."

With the first definition, I would argue against the idea of free will because it's required that prior causes be absent. With the latter though it would seem that determinism and free will could coexist. The choice of the alternatives though, is deterministic.

Putting more thought into the subject, things start getting a bit fuzzy. Thinking back to existentialism, every person is responsible for their own happiness. Determinism denotes that even happiness is deterministic. This is where it gets fuzzy, at least for me. While happiness may be deterministic, the issue of whether we end up happy or sad is not fated. There is a lot that goes into human emotion, and I won't even attempt to explain it here and now.

If I write any more, I'm going to start confusing myself again so I'll stop here.

A Mute Story

2009-02-08T23:37:00.004-05:00

The other day I was watching the tail-end of a news cast and when it was over I decided to flip the channels to see if anything interesting was on. I very much despise television as a whole, but I do enjoy many shows on the travel channel such as No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain or Samantha Brown. Neither of those shows were on unfortunately, so I stopped on a decent movie I had already seen and pressed the mute button because I needed to make a phone call. After the call I had forgotten I had the t.v. on and decided to check my email. I stuck on my headphones, selected shuffle on my music player, and carried on my daily Internet habits.

After a quick stop by Lifehacker, I noticed a flash out of the corner of my eye beyond my computer screen and realized the what is was. I sat there and watched the remainder of the movie without sound. In combination with the lyrics and gentle tones of the music that was playing, I created my own set of stories by observing the ever changing facial expressions the characters in the movie displayed. As the songs changed, the stories changed. They say most of our communication is non-verbal, but I would definitely say that words are required to gain the most understanding of what is being said. Otherwise, we are left with a dried-out piece of clay left unsculpted.

This can make for some interesting inventions, but you have to be careful in social environments, especially when someone is talking to you. I sometimes find myself concentrating too much on the expressions and loose track of what is being said. Mastering both visual and verbal forms of expression will help in the overall understanding from one person to another.

Fragmented Life

2008-12-10T13:36:00.001-05:00

As a continuation from my last blog...my life is not without blots of ink. I can surely remember events that took place before reading The Catcher in the Rye. For example the time I jumped down an entire flight of stairs after waking up from a recurring nightmare of mine or the time I freaked out when I let a bird into the house. These major events have permanently imprinted themselves in my brain. Not only were they riveting moments, but I also spent a lot of time thinking about them afterward: the act of memorization. Everything following or preceding these events though are more or less a blur.

It is interesting though because unless you have some way to confirm these memories, they may not have happened at all. They may have just been dreams you had that you have convinced yourself took place in real life. I think the brain has a reduced ability to distinguish dream from reality of events that occurred years prior. I remember reading an old diary several months ago and being yet again surprised at the contents. I was reading something I swear I had dreamed instead of actually experiencing. Unfortunately I have no way of confirming any of it. It's not all that important to me to confirm my past though. Dreams, reality... they both are playing a part in who I am, so why does it matter that I sometimes can't tell the difference.

After descending from the attic of old memories with a load of junk, I joined my family for dinner and explained to them why I was up there for so long. My mother then shared with me that one of her patients at work experiences short-term memory loss. Sure enough, that's exactly what I dreamt about that night. Although it wasn't inherently scary, I'd consider it a nightmare - as it is one of my greatest fears. It was an extremely fragmented dream. I would experience something and black out shortly thereafter, and almost as if waking up from a dream I would open my eyes and realize something just happened but not remembering what. This would go indefinitely until I actually woke up for real. This is exactly what happened with my book, I remember that I read it and I believe that I even liked it, but I have no idea what it's about. That's the scary part: remembering you forgot something. It's pretty incredible what your mind can fabricate while dreaming and its ability to cast the experience into oblivion.

Coming to the realization that life is both fragmented and fleeting, I can find comfort my own ability to both grasp and maintain the sense of me, regardless of where it came from. Pen in hand, inherent fear and all, I will let the ink run its course.

Fleeting Memories

2008-12-08T09:47:00.004-05:00

While cleaning my things out of the attic of the house I used to live in, I came across a few pieces of paper folded up into an old notebook. After unfolding and reading the first few lines of what was written, I realized it was a story that I started to write in high school. I sort of regret writing it in pencil, for it was barely legible. I always liked writing in pencil; there's something about how the lead feels against the paper and how easy it is to correct a mistake. After four years though, the lines were somewhat faded and blurred together.

I didn't get much accomplished up there; I'll definitely need to make a second trip. I was easily distracted by old school work. It's infinitely fascinating going down memory lane. Imagine reading something you've written though, and having no memory of it. I sat there staring at an old book test I took elementary school on The Catcher in the Rye. It had my name on the paper and it was my handwriting, but I don't remember the book at all. Apparently I knew a lot about it, I scored a 100% on the exam. Rereading my answers to the questions about the book though did nothing to dig out old memories. It was scary.

It's almost as if my life is being written in pencil.

Dried Up Tears

2008-11-30T00:40:00.000-05:00

After sharing with a friend of mine that I had recently watched the film 'P.S. I Love You' she asked me if I cried at any point. I said no, and she asked me why. I didn't really know what to tell her. I just didn't. I only remember crying perhaps a handful of times in my entire life and I recall pretty clearly each event leading up to the emotionally induced tears.

There were a few times I shed some tears over scrapes and bruises around the age of twelve or so, but those were pretty insignificant events. Around the same time, my great grandfather died. I don't remember my first reaction to the news, but I know I did not cry at first. It was later in the day, after dinner while my family was in the living room. I was lying down on the couch face first and very randomly while my mother was talking, tears started streaming down my face, soaking into the couch cushion. It wasn't something I was used to. I glanced around the room and wondered why I was the only one crying. One strange thing about this is, I wasn't particularly close to my great grandfather. I had very brief, yet happy memories of him.

My memories of my childhood are very scattered, but I do remember certain bits and pieces with vivid clarity. I don't know the reason, but I used to induce tears as a way to put myself to sleep. This was probably during my middle teenage years. I would lay in bed staring up at the ceiling imagining the demise of close family members. The burning sensation in my eyes, two separate tears streaking down the sides of my face and onto my pillow gave me a strange source of comfort. It may or may not have been some sort of release for an unidentified factor of stress in my life at the time.

The last time was in a diner about three years ago. I won't go into the details because of their personal value, but I'll say that I had been drinking with some close friends after a pretty significant event in my life. At the table, after sharing with my friends what had happened, I stared at my folded hands for a good five minutes, and shortly thereafter had the sudden need to vomit. But instead, I started to cry. Quite profusely and violently I might add, I have never cried this hard, for this long in my life. It was totally unavoidable, I couldn't stop it.

In a way, I feel as though I used up all my emotional tears in that one night. The event that transpired changed my life forever. I had come to a realization of something I've been forever dreading. In my life, this was of most importance. Nothing could ever come close. And nothing has thus far. I have not shed a single tear since that day 3 years ago.

I never quite understood why people cry during movies, books, or after hearing something depressing on the news. I never did cry about them in the first place, but many of these events are occurring around the world every second. It may not be on the news, but somewhere in the world someone's father has just died. A mother has had her second miscarriage. A train has derailed and twenty people died. Why do people just cry about these things when they are reminded of them? Maybe that's it, they are reminded. And when this happens, they become immensely empathetic. Psychology! It's infinitely theoretical in my opinion.

I've lead myself to believe that nothing could ever surpass this one turning point in terms of how much it affected me emotionally. But what's strange is that I haven't cried about it since. If nothing else makes me as sad as the realization I came to that night, why do I not cry about it often? I am constantly thinking about it. It's always on my mind. Five minutes don't go by without the thought running its course throughout my brain.

Nothing a quick google search can't take care of! I came across this article. In case you don't feel like reading it, someone conducted a survey on the effects of a "sad" movie on both "normal" and "depressed" subjects. I put these words in quotes because I have many issues with semantics. In any case, they found that the depressed folks actually cried less than their normal counterparts. And suddenly I had an epiphany!

THEORY: I am suffering from long-term depression. I've been living with it for so long, everything just became a blur. It has made me become numb to everything around me. Depressed people don't cry because they have nothing to lose, while "normal" people cry because they have everything to lose.

Putting most of that theory aside, I can definitely come to the conclusion that I am indeed depressed and the root of it all seems to be the reason why I no longer cry.

Step 1 to recovery: Admitting you have a problem.

Step 2 to recovery: Do something about it.

This should be interesting.

Selfishness

2008-11-24T15:04:00.002-05:00

"Selfishness must always be forgiven you know, because there is no hope of a cure." - Jane Austen

Yesterday's quote of the day inspired me to write a little something about a trait in people I am constantly analyzing. I looked it up and I guess its a quote from her novel Mansfield Park. The only book I've read from Jane Austen is Pride and Prejudice, so I'm not quite sure exactly why she wrote it or how she really feels about selfish people. Obviously from the quote though, selfishness is constant and unchanging.

It is a theory of mine that the human race is motivated wholly by self interest - the view of a cynic. While it may appear that some folks are selfless, their actions in some way or another are going to benefit them. It is only human to be selfish, it's in our nature. It may be considered a selfless act to help someone in need, but how I see it is this: either they are helping someone else to make themselves look good, or to make them satisfied emotionally. Either way, they themselves are going to benefit. It's also human nature to be compassionate - though not everyone carries this trait. An example would be like the one I just described, or a simple as a mothers unending worry about her offspring. It's part of the reason the human race is so productive.

I suppose this is also a semantics issue. A stigma has been attached to the word selfish. When one person tells another person that they are selfish, what they are really saying is that the person is not compassionate, or respectful.

I have no problem admitting that I am a selfish, egocentric being. I am, and always will be the most important person in my life. A couple sentences into this blog, I looked up and saw an empty milk carton on the counter, next to my trash. Most people I know don't recycle. So I'm sitting here thinking, if all of my actions are really motivated by self-interest alone, why do I recycle? Nobody sees that I recycle, I don't get any money back from doing so, why do I do it? This is the point where I introduced compassion. I think most people have some sort of degree of compassion. Compassion, although beneficial for others, is just another way to make oneself feel better. And that's fine.

A Blog About Blogging!

2008-11-21T20:06:00.007-05:00

Feeling the need to write and having not a clue in the world as to what to write about, I found a survey! Here goes...

Do you like the look and contents of your blog?
Being as lazy and carefree as I am, I picked one of the premade templates. It's pretty simple and easy on the eyes, so I like it just fine. The only thing I changed is the background. Regarding content - If I didn't like it, I wouldn't keep writing. Although I do often post a blog one day, and come back and edit it if something doesn't look right.

Does your family know about your blog?
As far as I know, only my mother and sister know about it. They're pretty much the only ones who actually use the internet, so that might be why.

Can you tell your friends about your blog? Do you consider it a private thing?
I could and I think I have in the past sort of indirectly wishing they might read it, but I won't go out of my way to make sure they know. Blogs are not private, period... unless you lock them. The only reason why I post my thoughts on the internet is the wish that someone might read them. I have the link to this blog attached to many of my other websites such as facebook. I consider it a sort of fishing, hoping someone might bite.

Do you read the blogs of those who comment on your blog? Or do you try and discover new blogs?
If I got any comments, yes I probably would. I occasionally use the random blog function at the top of the page out of pure boredom, but I rarely come across anything I'm interested in reading. More often than not, I find most of the blogs I follow through google searches I conduct throughout the day on various topics.

Does your blog positively affect your mind?
Again, I wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't helping me in some way. If you've ever seen or read the Harry Potter series, a blog is sort of like the pensieve. It's a way to log memories and thoughts to both get them out of your head and to refer back to them at a later time. If you're lucky, you'll even get some insight from the blogger community.

What does the number of visitors to your blog mean? Do you have a traffic counter?
It counts the number of people who view your blog by tracking their IP address. Am I right, and I right?? Hehe, I believe blogspot has its own built in traffic counter, but I don't look at it very often.

Do you imagine what other bloggers look like?
If they don't already of a picture of themselves on the blog itself, then no. All I really care about is the text.

Do you think blogging has any real benefits?
It's acts as both a sort of journal and a form of communication, so of course it has benefits. Whether its just personal or political, blogging has become a very large form of media.

Do you think that the blogosphere is a stand alone world community separated from the real world?
Not at all. This isn't the Matrix (well it is a matrix of sorts), this is the real world. I suppose there are some specialized communities of bloggers that tend to stray from the real world, but I would imagine that most of the people who participate in blogging to actually connect further with the world.

Do some political blogs scare you? Do you avoid them?
I'm not particularly attracted to many political blogs, but I do follow some.

Do you think that criticizing your blog is useful?
Yesir! I welcome criticism. I do a lot of it myself. I do hope that is constructive criticism though, and not just an insult or sarcastic comment.

Have you ever thought about what would happen to your blog if you died?
Nope. Thinking about it now, I would assume that it would float in cyberspace for a while until blogspot decided to take it down...whenever that might be. My mother or another family member might print everything I've written just to keep me alive in their hearts (you'll never catch me saying that again). Actually, I used to keep a livejournal. I haven't updated it or even logged in for more than a couple years and yet it still exists. I suppose its a way of living after death.

Which blogger has had the greatest impression on you?
I can't really single out one blogger.

Which blogger do you think is the most similar to you?
See above.

Name a song you want to listen too.
I suppose I have a problem picking favorites. I have my media player set on random at the moment. The last few songs consisted of Stereophonics, Radiohead, and Built to Spill.

What does your blog title mean? (I added this question)
It serves as both my blog title and screen name, so I get many inquiries about its meaning. I thought it was pretty straightforward. Muse means to think about, to ponder, to mull over....while a parade is a public display of culture or beliefs. So together, they make:

A public display of thought.

My Favorite Films

2008-11-18T16:27:00.015-05:00

Before Sunrise and Before Sunset have got to be my two top favorite movies. Surprisingly, I identify more strongly with the latter despite it being the sequel. I first saw them about four years ago. Actually, after seeing Before Sunrise I didn't have any idea that there was a sequel. I remember seeing a movie (I think it was An American Werewolf in Paris) with Julie Delpy and later researching what other movies she was in. I've never been a huge fan of Ethan Hawk or even romance films, but I thought I'd give it shot. I was not disappointed. I think I watched it a few times in a row.

Shortly after seeing the first one, I discovered there was a sequel. It's really quite fascinating, the films were made nine years apart, which corresponds to the time the two characters in the film spend apart. The differences in their appearance also reflect that, which make it that much more believable.

Since then, I've seen quite a few chick flicks and not many have compared. I suppose I'm a bit of a fan of bittersweet endings, so that has something to do with it. Movies such as Lost in Translation and Once come close.

I watched them both again yesterday, one after the other and they are still just as good as when I first saw them. I repeated the last twenty minutes of the sequel several times because they were so precious. Every single strong feeling they had, repressed for nine years, comes spilling out in a single car ride.

*****Warning*****Spoilers*****

I wouldn't call them gripes, but there are a few issues that I wish to expand upon. During the car ride, there's a moment when Celine (Julie Delpy's character) starts shouting and asks the cab driver to pull over. All throughout the movie, after spending about an hour together, she didn't once raise her voice in frustration. What's stranger is that Ethan Hawk's character Jesse didn't actually do much talking leading up to the point where she became so distressed. She basically talked herself into the moment where she almost jumped out of the car and ran away. I suppose I find this odd because I'm not very familiar with mood swings such as these. I could definitely see where she was coming from, but I don't understand her sudden need to repel Jesse after just spending so much time with him in a calm environment. I suppose it all to do with peoples personality and how they deal with strong emotions.

After thinking about it a bit, it makes more sense, but what I didn't quite understand after first seeing it, is why she was so mad. It almost seemed as if she was expressing animosity towards Jesse, when in fact it was her own problem. Jesse was the one who was stood up. He was the one who flew all the way to Paris only to find out she wasn't going to be there. He's the one who should be mad, and yet he's the one being yelled at. All the time leading up to this point, she didn't seem to be all that upset for not meeting him after that six month period. Earlier in the film he even asks her, "oh, why weren't you there" and she responded nonchalantly with "Oh, well my grandmother.."(her grandmother died either that day or shortly thereafter). Of course later in the film she confessed that she had been concealing some things, like the fact that she remembered they had sex. So this might be part of the reason she threw a little tantrum, it was an explosion of pent up feelings.

I just realized that I've spent that last few paragraphs trying to figure out and explain a woman's emotions. And there you have it, the difference between men and women (generalized of course). She did actually care, so much so as to have spend the last nine years of her life regretting what could have happened. She went on and on about how she poured all of her romance into that one night they spent together. Than afterwords became numb and unable to connect again. To me, this was just a long winded way of saying that for those nine years, she hadn't felt for another person what she felt for Jesse that one day.

In a sense, we all have that one person who we compare everyone else to. It may not be your ideal mate, but it is a person in your life you have either dated or befriended who you've identified with on a deeper level than anyone else. It may be a collection of people, a handful, or even just a few. We use this as to gauge new people we encounter. If you're lucky, you'll find someone who goes off the scale. Hell, you're lucky even if someone comes close. This may or may not be true, but from what I know... and from personal experience, we spend an abundant amount of time thinking about this person. Even if you are in a relationship... you might even be somewhat happy with it, but if this person rates even a 9/10 on your mental scale, you can't help but fall victim to the constant flood of thoughts of what could have been, what could be, and if you're willing to repress these thoughts for the sake of your current relationship.

Friendship

2008-11-15T00:04:00.000-05:00

I've never really had a best friend. Sure, out of all of my current friends I can pick one out as my closest, but as far as a "best friend" goes, I've never had the pleasure. I'll define "best friend" as someone you talk to more or less on a daily basis, someone you know almost everything about including but not limited to their favorite color, current crushes, and ambitions. From what I know, most of these types of relationships are formed mainly in the years of adolescence. After high school, in addition to life moving very quickly, you are exposed to so many more people. You not only have less time to establish these sort of relationships, but also a plethora of people to choose from.

Most male relationships in my life up to this point have superficial at best. I can't really say female relationships have been much more fulfilling, but there definitely is a significant difference. I admit much of the reason for this has to do with my personality, but also lies in the contrast between the male and female psyche. I'll be honest, I've never been very social. I would even go so far as to call myself a loner, mainly because I'm very picky as to who I associate myself with. Not because I feel as if I am holier than thou, but because I can only stand being around a certain sort of person.

Among the people that I converse with, more of the personal conversations have either been with females, or gay men. Surprising to me is that I have straight male friends who I myself am more similar to, and yet have not gotten very close to. There seems to be some sort of mental block that prevents us from becoming emotionally close. It is for this reason (among others) that we strive so hard to find our female counterpart to share these unexpressed feelings with. This is just a theory of mine.

After watching shows like Sex and the City, if you don't already have someone in your life such as Samantha, Charlotte, or Miranda, you start wishing you did. You also get to wondering about what capacity these sort of friendships exist in real life. I would imagine that deeper, more meaningful relationships exist mainly among women friends, while males maintain a more laconic sort of friendship.

So why is there such a strong need to find such a friend? Personally, a like-minded peer I could confide in sounds extremely appealing for more than a few reasons. Being very introspective, I've become pretty self reliant. I don't often reach out for advice, but that extra objective opinion may make all the difference. From my perspective, finding a best friend is very similar to finding a romantic match, which can be extremely challenging. The main difference between a best friend and a romantic partner is the physical intimacy. Sharing similar feelings and exchanging thoughts and opinions provides comfort, for whatever reason, and that is the importance of maintaining that sort of connection. The problem is finding the person and allowing the relationship to mature.

In the meantime, I will continue to be my own best friend.

If only straight men could get this close ;D

Obama vs Mcain

2008-10-18T04:45:00.003-04:00

So they're calling this one of the most important elections of our lifetime. With an ongoing "war" in the middle east and our financial "crisis", it would certainly seem like it will be one for the records. Contrary to the attitude I had about a year ago, I will indeed be voting for the next president of the United States. Although I am voting, I still have the same views as I had in a blog I wrote last November: " Don't forget to vote!"

I still know next to nothing about politics and although I have taken a macroeconomics course in college, my knowledge of the economy is extremely limited. Now what I argued in my other blog is that people shouldn't be allowed to vote if they are ignorant in such areas. This of course is not the case. And the scary thing is that there are millions of even more ignorant and biased people than myself who vote every chance they get.

So who do I vote for? I have watched all three presidential debates and honestly, I've learned next to nothing besides Obama being better in front of the camera. Ok, sure I hear them talking about their plans to fix the economy and tarnishing each others reputation but what good is all this to me if I haven't the faintest clue as to how to fix the economy. In the end, I'll have to go with whoever sounds more convincing, and I'm sure by now we all know who that is. I would be extremely surprised if Obama isn't elected president in November.

Besides being good in front of the camera, Obama has some other things going for him. People want change. They are convinced that Mcain's presidency will only be a continuation of Bush's, and that is not an option. Mcain has been trying lately to seperate himself from Bush, but I think it's too late. His record of voting with Bush 90% of the time is clear, and is one of the biggest reasons he will lose the election.

Having mostly democratic views myself, I will be voting for Obama. It may be a clear cut choice to many people, but it really isn't an easy decision from my perspective. I'm taking a risk either way, but I do feel a bit more confident in someone who I agree with on more subjects. See you on November 4th! Go out and vote!

Olympics? No Thanks

2008-08-29T12:56:00.005-04:00

So the Olympics have come and gone, and won't return for another four years. Frankly, I couldn't care less. I'm not here to bash the Olympics, not intentionally anyway. I just wanted to write, and since the Olympics flooded the news for weeks, it popped in my head as something relevant to write about.

I didn't even know the Olympics were going until I visited my mother one weekend to find it playing on tv. I didn't have a television at my place at the time, but soon thereafter I started noticing more and more of the news based sites I visit covering almost nothing but Olympic stories.

I personally don't care to pay any attention to the Olympics, obviously; the reasons being very similar to why I don't affiliate myself with any sports period. I admit they're entertaining to watch from time to time, and I'm sure that's the main reason most people watch them, but there are many things that deter my attention.

One of the biggest reasons is: I am not concerned with who is the best. After watching some of the Olympics this year and observing some of the winners and losers responses, I can't really understand their joy or disappointment. Some of the Olympians are quoted and noted for striving off the rush and satisfaction they get from defeating the competition and being on top. On the other hand, the ones who didn't happen to come out on top are left defeated and disappointed.

Now I can't speak for anyone else, but what I'm most interested in is personal growth. How far can I push myself? In a world where everyone is different, what's the point in comparing each other? I admit that competition pushes everyone to be better individually, but where does this satisfaction or disappointment come from if we are all built differently biologically and have different abilities when we are compared to others?

I'm not sure. This sort of perspective applies to more things than just sports, but I won't get into that now.

Still Here

2008-01-23T12:35:00.000-05:00

Three hours later and I am still here. It is now lunch time and this place is hoppin'! Every single chair is taken and instead of being able to zone in on anyone's personal conversation, I now can only overhear the people directly next to me. About five minutes ago I was being tortured by three beautiful teenage girls pontificating to each other. Now there are a couple of business partners discussing different ideas and strategies that'll help their firm. Meanwhile, before I started writing this blog, I was browsing random blogs via the Blogger random blog searcher button. This is what I like about getting out of the house, but at the same time, once a month is almost overkill, for me anyway. I don't know, maybe if I did it more often and changed the setting every now and then, I could learn to enjoy it a bit more.

Well now this is interesting. A middle aged man and woman now, the woman who just wrote a teenage inspirational book and the man talking about her tour and or workshop. Something was said about a $15,000 something or other and a side conversation led the man to describe that he has two children ages six and ten who receive home schooling.

The conversations are getting more interesting and my stomach is becoming more vacant, so I'm going to grab a soup and call it a day.

My Birthday

2008-01-23T09:15:00.000-05:00

So today is my birthday. I've decided to spend it by myself; thought maybe I'd drive around town, stop by some coffee shops and/or libraries, to think a bit. Exactly a year ago I believe I was asleep in my dorm room after a heavy night of drinking, dreaming, and dreading my early morning calculus class. Now I'm here at a Panera Bread, out of school, writing about whatever comes to mind. I was born twenty two years ago. Seems like a long time, but it's really not in the grand scheme of things, naturally. Some people graduate college at my age; me, I've barely completed two years. I'm honestly not worried about it though. Once I do complete whatever it is I end up completing, I'll probably be doing the same thing for the rest of my life, so what does it really matter if it takes me several more years.

I guess I've been at a lack of things to write about lately, mostly because it seems that I've been writing in circles, covering the same damn topic, only with different words, not really getting anywhere. Of course I probably would have expanded on whatever it was that I was trying to get across if I had gotten some responses. I wasn't expecting any though, of course, but it is the main reason why I'm posting blogs on the internet. Perhaps if I was talking about sex, I'd get more attention. It's not that I want or enjoy attention, I'm just curious to see if anyone feels the same way I do. Curiosity of course is often confused with the verb: to care.

So instead of running in circles, I think maybe I'll start posting movie reviews, since I watch at least five movies per week. And I'll start right now. I'll probably only write about the ones that I liked, although I might throw in a comment or two on how much I disliked a movie I had high hopes for. First up, a dual review!

Adrift in Manhattan ***.5

This is one of those films with several separate, yet intertwined stories, although not as many as Paris Je Teim, which all come together at the end in a dramatic easter basket with a bow on top. Although a bit unbelievable at times I really enjoyed this film. I am almost convinced that movies need an unbelievable aspect to them in order for them to be at least somewhat successful. I honestly don't feel like writing a summary of the film so I'll just point out what I liked about it. I suppose the main thing I liked about it was the silent communication and understanding that went on between the two main characters. A lot of the story followed a quiet young photographer taking photographs in a park who stumbles across a somewhat somber woman on a bench about fifty yards down from him. As he starts to take photos of her, he becomes somewhat obsessed, and eventually follows her home. And now I'm doing exactly what I said I didn't want to do: write a summary. Anyway, he takes pictures of her in her home from across the street and captures emotional moments with his camera and later sends them to her anonymously. Although frightening, these pictures point out to her exactly what she feels mostly strongly about, and eventually leads to her solution, hence the silent communication.

Ira & Abby ****

Yet another film set in Manhattan. I am glad I make it a habit to watch the entire movie, despite it having a horrible beginning. I know many people who will turn the movie off because it started off bad. The beginning of this move was so very cliche and unbelievable, "oh my god I can't believe I rented this movie" kept running through my head. As the story progressed though, I liked it more and more, and by the end up of it, I had a smirk on my face and continued to think about it throughout the ending credits. As I listened to the music that played whilst I mused, I was reminded of the Ratatouille soundtrack and the wonderful story that went along with it. I enjoyed this film for a number of reasons, but mostly because of the underlying themes: marriage is meaningless, and love (unconditional/true) is just an illusion. Cold hard theme's indeed, but true..in my opinion. Although these ideas are somewhat depressing for those who haven't accepted them, they were portrayed in a very very hilarious way. For example: every single character in the film saw a shrink and towards the end of the movie all of the characters and their shrinks came together in one room and had a maelstrom of a discussion, throwing around random insults and subtle bouts of philosophy in an attempt to explain their feelings. Although still early, this is my favorite movie so far in 2008.

It's funny how I viewed these films so closely together because they share many things in common. First off, the most obvious, they're both set in Manhattan. Second, and most impacting to me, each film had a character with the same viewpoint on life: you can be perfectly content living life with a mediocre job that pays the bills, without really having any major plans and/or life goals. Much like a monk, you can find happiness leading a simple life, and that is what I identify strongly with.

Another Day

2008-01-06T08:40:00.001-05:00

You'd think that someone would plan something special for their day off from work, but all I did was sleep. I did have some things in mind that I could have taken care of, but instead I did what I like doing best: curl up in my blankets, embrace my pillow, and sleep for a short eternity. For about eighteen hours straight, I slept. I'm not sure if that's normal or not, but that's what I've been doing with my days off. I've got nothing better to do, not really. I woke up today, somewhat refreshed, ate six slices of left over pizza, and then proceeded to watch three movies in a row; all three being a variety of romance. Now I'm sitting here wondering if maybe this cycle of prolonged dreams and romance films could potentially act as a permanent placebo to the void in my life.

Beauty & Attraction

2007-12-20T01:43:00.000-05:00

I do believe I have brought this topic up before, but it is something that irks me to no end. It is one of the key reasons that I may be forever single, among many others. The topics at hand here are looks and attraction. Recently I've been around more people, mainly because of my job, the general pubic to be more specific, and so this forces me into thinking about it more often. Not so much putting more thought into it, but instead mulling over it more often. Circling around in my mind, annoying the hell out of me, like that girl at that concert who keeps whipping you in the face with her long hair every time she turns her head. I suppose that's not exactly the right reference, since the feeling is completely different. A better one would be: after eating a full satisfying meal, thinking about how there's probably a small child out there somewhere in the world starving to death. That sort of morose feeling some people get, that's the one. Actually, it's more of a cynical feeling.... a wow this world if fucked up feeling. But then I think, who I am I say such a thing? Who am I to say the way things should and shouldn't be. I find it odd though because I'm probably one of the most apathetic people in the world. Why do I care about such things? Why do I let them bother me? And I think I just thought of the answer to my own question: because I am a part of it; the same thing is being done to me and I don't like it. I don't like it because it isn't fair. If there's one thing I believe the world should be, it would be fair. I believe this world should be fair. Unfortunately it is not, and unfortunately I am confusing myself.

Okay, scenario time. I encounter many people during the day, it's part of my job. I encounter many women during the day, many good looking, many not so good looking. I'm normally attracted to the good looking ones, I won't lie, it's human nature, something I can't help. Of course this is just physical attraction I'm talking about. My male coworkers for example tend to flirt with the more attractive girls. I look at them and shake my head. Why exactly do the better looking girls deserve more attention from you than the less attractive ones? How do you think the girl second or third line feels when she gets to your register and you neglect to give her as much attention as you gave the better looking one earlier? I have the same feelings as my coworkers but I do not act on them. Whenever a good looking girl comes up to my register I freeze up, my throat becomes dry as I swallow hard, and think about things twice before anything stupid comes out of my mouth. But I don't flirt. I don't act on that attraction because I know it is only a physical attraction and also for that reason I stated before. After that short interaction with that beautiful girl and my head in the clouds, I come back down to earth and feel resentment toward how I felt, even though I didn't act on it. Then I start feeling bad because I wouldn't have had these feelings with lesser attractive girl. I don't just do this at work, I do this every time I'm around people. And it is for this reason why I neglect to act, period. I won't flirt with the "ugly" one because they just aren't pleasant to look at, and I won't flirt with the "pretty" one because it isn't fair to the "ugly" one. And so I am at a stalemate with myself because of my "values" if you will.

Now, I absolutely hate the words: pretty, ugly, beautiful, etc; I avoid using them whenever possible. It is for the reason I stated previously, because of the repercussion that it causes. Of course people aren't divided into the pretty and ugly, and also as my last fortune cookie stated "beauty is in the eye of the beholder". I'm also not saying that I would never be interested in someone whom I considered bad looking. All am I'm saying is that the more of a physical attraction I have, the stronger the urge; and well I'm sure this applies to everyone. What I am interested in is what's within this often misleading cover. The problem is getting at that substance.

To Each His Own

2007-09-26T04:14:00.000-04:00

Yet another bizarre night in the life of "he who must not be named". I'm in my pajamas on my bed browsing the Internet at around 10:30 p.m. when I get asked to accompany my aunt to the casino. Not wanting to pass up another random adventure, I said yes. I brought up the fact that I didn't have an I.D. but she said it probably wouldn't be a problem. To my surprise and relief, it wasn't. We just walked right in. After dropping me off at my requested destination: the bar, she left me for the blackjack tables.

Like all bars I've been to, there was only sports playing on all of their displays. I had a quick drink and then decided to tour the place. I walked around, but not too far from where I was. I weaved in and out of isles of slots, wandered over to the blackjack tables, and like a magnet I was pulled back to the bar. Unfortunately when I got back, it was past a certain time they served alcohol, so I sampled some of the food they had on display and asked for a soda instead. After that I separated myself from the bar, took a seat on a comfy couch in the same vicinity, and pulled out the book that I brought with me: The God Delusion.

A waitress came over to where I was sitting and asked if I wanted anything to drink. For some odd reason, I asked for cranberry juice. I have absolutely no idea why I asked for cranberry juice. Out of everything I could have possibly asked for to drink, cranberry juice would usually be my last choice. I didn't even hesitate, nor did I take back the order. It turned out to be the best cranberry juice I've ever tasted. And yes, I will be dreaming about cranberry juice tonight.

Anyway, when the waitress dropped off my drink she inquired about the book I was reading. I told her it was the author's take on religion in general. She then asked me what my religion was and I told her that I was an atheist. She then leaned over and sort of whispered, "As an atheist, how do you explain how this fucked up world is holding itself together?". As she stood up, I smiled at her, shook my head, and said, "I have no idea". Being the playful, curious person she was, she asked me if I'd be willing to attend church with her. "Well, I, uh", was what followed. I wasn't sure if she was being literal or not, and having an open mind like I do I didn't want just say no. Looking like she had just made me feel uncomfortable, she started to walk away. I quickly blurted out, "what church?". She turned around and came back over to my table and sat down this time across from me.

She explained how she was raised a Christian and continued to tell a story about how she was very sick at a young age and how praying and attending church help her get better. "The doctors has no clue what was wrong with me". This kind of reminded me of those church channels you flip by when you're looking for something to watch on tv. A televised church service in this huge cathedral packed to the max, of an old lady in a wheel chair who when is touched by the sermon, is miraculously cured and is able to stand and walk around. I don't believe she was lying to me; she seemed sincere enough. I didn't quite feel like getting into the whole religious debate, so I just sat there and said, "wow". I mean, what else could I have said? Seeing how the conversation didn't seem to be progressing, she ended it with, "well, to each his own I guess" . "That's right", I said and she got up and walked away.

There were a number of reasons why I didn't continue the conversation. One being that she probably had to get back to her job. If she was just a guest at the casino, I might have talked a bit more with her, although I'm not sure where it would go. Being a skeptic, I might have addressed the health issue. It's not uncommon that illnesses go undiagnosed. From what I know, many of them turn out to be mental illnesses that the patient both creates and cures themselves over time. I also probably would have said that just one unexplainable phenomenon isn't enough to prove the existence of a god. But who knows how she might have responded.

In the end I'm glad it ended the way it did. To each his own, believe what you want to believe.

Perforated Connections

2007-09-25T02:39:00.000-04:00

It's nearing 3:00 a.m. I'm cuddled up in the corner of my full sized bed, pondering as usual. Tonight about emptiness. About perforated notebook paper, chain links, and atoms made up of mostly empty space. All held together, but not without vast emptiness.

And I'm wondering. What exactly is this void? Why does it exist? Can it be filled?

If there's any hope for me, I have to find these answers.

..........

2007-09-22T12:35:00.000-04:00

Almost every story I've come across whether it be a book or a movie in which there is romance involved, there is always some sort of mention of good looks. For me, this detracts from the story; I mean, is it really necessary? What it seems to suggest is that if these good looks weren't present, the attraction wouldn't exist in full. And even though I seem to be contradicting myself due to my last post, I really would like to see the mention of such a thing omitted from such works. That is all.

"You're so cute"

2007-09-12T21:20:00.000-04:00

On one of my several mile walks home in the past week, I received a compliment that I thought about for the rest of the day. I was crossing the street while looking left to see any oncoming traffic. Halfway to the other side I caught a glimpse of a woman in her early 30's or so in an suv coming up on my left. As she passed me, she shouted out, "you're so cute". I whipped my head to right and watched as she drove away. I stood there for a minute somewhat perplexed. My first thought was, "I wish that were true". I wondered if she was telling the truth or not. It didn't sound to me like she was being sarcastic, but who knows.

A bit later, I took back that first thought. I didn't wish it were true. I don't care if it's true or not. Then I thought, "Is it safe to say that I don't care about my looks?". I suppose it is to a certain extent. I just spent thousands of dollars to straighten out my teeth, so obviously it isn't true that I don't care about what I look like. It's one of those things you think about every day, every time you look into the mirror. "What would my life be like if I were more attractive?". "With my current state of mind, would I even want to be more attractive?".

It's a tough decision no matter which way I look at it. I remember in the movie, A Knight's Tale, a bishop told one of the main characters that it was a curse to have good looks. Although I wouldn't use the word "curse", I would have to somewhat agree with the statement. For an extremely attractive person, I would imagine that it would be pretty difficult to differentiate between superficial people and those who couldn't care less about appearance. For me, that would be a big problem. I could be wrong, but the way I see it, the "uglier" you are the easier it is to see this distinction.

Unfortunately in this world, looks matter. I won't deny it, they matter to me as well, but they aren't paramount. I've beaten myself up over this many times for seeking and idolizing 'beautiful' people, but I've learned that it's just human instinct. It just can't be helped. It is for this reason that I keep up my appearance. On a scale from one to ten, I'd rate myself in the area from five to seven, average I suppose, and I'm content with that.

One for the Record, part 5

2007-09-03T21:24:00.000-04:00

Believe it or not this is the final part... I know it's sad; my night was finally coming to an end....but not without a finale! I had about a mile or so to go from the bar and I was totally up for the walk. Actually at the time, I probably wouldn't have minded if I had another five miles to go.

I was flying high, skipping and doing cartwheels down the sidewalk on my way home. Actually, that's lie...although something similar was going on in my head. Still on main street, my old elementary school was coming up on my left and the church where I used to attend catechism was down the street to the right. I also remembered that I had a cousin who lived near the church whom I haven't seen in a few years. She was a night owl like I am, so since it wasn't out of the way, my semi drunk self waddled down the right street for a late night visit.

Her porch light was on which made it easy to spot, but her car wasn't there. As I approached her driveway, a small white car pulled in. I didn't stop walking, but I slowed my pace so that I could see who it was. I was a bit past her driveway at this point, but I still couldn't tell who it was so I stopped. It was neither of her parents, so I gave it a chance and called out her name. She looked around and I could tell it was her, so I quickly identified myself. "My long lost cousin!", she said as she walked over to give me a hug. I explained why I was randomly walking down her street in the middle of the night, then she offered me a ride home. Of course, I took her up on that.

Turns out she got a new car since the last time I saw her. We both kept laughing at the strange coincidence that we were in the same spot at the same time. If either of us were twenty seconds off, we wouldn't have ran into each other. Not knowing what kind of car she now had, I wouldn't have guessed she was home if I had gotten there just a tad later....likewise I would have completely missed her if hadn't taken all of my random detours.

I invited her in to chat a bit when we arrived at my house, so she came in. We were a tad loud and I didn't want to wake anyone up, so I gave my sister a call at her new apartment to see if we could all visit and catch up a bit. Naturally, she was also up and about...it seems to run in the family. She said sure, so we hopped back in her car and drove over to her place. We didn't stay long, but it was nice to catch up and reconnect. After about an hour, we said our goodbyes.

All in all, an extremely interesting night.Interesting enough for me to write all about it, spanning out to five parts! As of now I still don't know why my license got suspended. I have a court date on September 10th, so hopefully I find out then. I took my car to a garage the next day and got an estimate of much more than I'm willing to spend at the moment to fix the exhaust system. For now I'm just going to buy some muffler patch and hopefully that'll smother the sound for now.

This will probably be it for my storytelling for a while, unless I get lucky enough to experience something similar. I suppose it's all up to me! Well, we'll see.

One for the Record, Part 4

2007-09-02T00:01:00.000-04:00

Now I'm not sure if we really shared the same name or not; perhaps she just said that so I'd give her a big tip. Nonetheless, I was able to order some drinks.

That first Sam Adams was highly satisfying so I had to order another one. While I drank, my attention switched between the tv across the bar and a conversation being had by a man and woman four stools to the left of me. Out of the twenty minutes or so that I sat there, I didn't hear the man say one word; I suppose that's typical though. She was describing the end of her marriage of 15 or so years and the ever so common struggle thereafter. It was sort of like watching an episode of Maury, except the host wasn't saying anything, so I lost interest pretty quickly.

The beers were indeed yummy, but they weren't doing much damage so I ordered something with a bit more kick. The only thing that I could think of that wasn't too fancy was a long island iced tea, so that's what I asked for. It certainly did the trick. I felt my spirits rise as I started to laugh about the events so far that night. I wanted it to last my full walk home, so I decided to leave. I took a quick trip to their restroom that didn't lock, said goodnight and thanks so the bartender, and left the bar with a smirk.

One for the Record, Part 3

2007-09-01T01:17:00.000-04:00

It isn't uncommon that I randomly imagine my demise, so I wasn't phased much. At this point it was around 11:30 p.m. and I was about one fourth of the way there.

I was nearing my old neighborhood so I decided to take a small detour to check out the house I lived in for six years. The house itself looked exactly the same, it was still tan with green shutters. The garage even still had the attached basketball hoop that seemed to be hanging by a thread the last time I was there. I moved in for a closer look but as I got the base of the driveway a spotlight came on so I decided it best to keep moving, especially since I could hear conversation across the street. As I walked, I imagined how funny it would be if they called the cops on me. I made a complete circle around the neighborhood back to main street attaching names of old friends to houses as I went. A little further down main street I noticed a small bar on the corner of a miniature one floor office building. Considering how I wasn't in any rush and in dire need of a drink, I decided to check the place out.

Not wanting to awkwardly roam around, I took the first stool I saw at the bar. It was indeed a small place. There were around 15 stools around the oval shaped bar which sort of hugged the wall on the right when you walked in. They had two small tv's hung up on the walls with major league baseball playing on both. On opposite sides of the room were a pool table and a jukebox. The pool table was closer to the bar while a small dining area of a couple booths and several tables accompanied the jukebox. There were about ten people there when I entered. Four people at the bar itself, three playing pool, and three standing near one of the tv's with beers in their hands watching the game. They were all guys except one. From where I was sitting I'd say their ages ranged from thirty to fifty. As I was looking at the closest tv trying to determine who was playing I heard a female ask me for an ID. I turned my head back to the bar and got my first look at the bartender. I suppose she was in her mid 30's. She had shoulder length blonde hair with that wet look to it, a pink t-shirt, and pretty night jeans. She wasn't too bad looking, although nothing spectacular. I rummaged through my pockets and pulled out my wallet. As soon as I opened it I remembered the cop had taken my license. I quickly explained my situation while shuffling through my wallet. I threw my student ID up on the counter hoping it had my date of birth on it while I continued my search. Library card, debit cards, insurance cards, nothing had my date of birth. I looked up at her and said I was sorry just after finishing my story. I pulled the movies out of my pocket to prove that at least part of my story was true, although not the important part. Looking up from my student ID, she asked me my first name. After my response, she held out her hand as to shake mine and as we shook she told me we shared the same name. "Nice to meet you, what can I get for you", was what she said next. I thanked her and asked for a Sam Adams.

One for the Record, Part 2

2007-08-31T22:36:00.000-04:00

Since my car doors don't lock, I shoved the movies in my cargo pockets and headed off down the sidewalk toward main street. On my way to the junction, I passed a jogger and some creepy guy standing beside a tree in front of an abandoned office building. After taking a left at the intersection I attempted to buy an icecream sundae in McDonald's drive-through. Unfortunately I was denied service because I wasn't in a car :( A little further down main street I stopped in a gas station and decided to try one of their new energy drinks. I picked a grape flavored one with a skull on the front of the can; I don't remember the brand it was. I continued drinking while I walked. About a quarter mile down from McDonalds I came to a an underpass. Being covered in shadow, I was slightly hesitant in walking though to the other side but continued anyway. About halfway through I glanced up at the slanted walls on either side that led up to the base of the bridge and saw nothing there. A second after I turned my head back to where I was walking, I blinked. The moment my eyes closed, a violent scene shot through my head. I imagined a dark figure descend from where I just looked, stab me the stomach with a dagger of some sort, and run off into the distance with my wallet. I slouched to the ground clutching my stomach and with blood trickling out of my mouth I just lay there helpless as my vision blurred into nothingness. I stopped dead in my tracks and opened my eyes as goosebumps trailed down my back. I quickly looked around again, straightened up, took a deep breath, and continued my long walk home.

One for the Record, Part I

2007-08-31T06:02:00.000-04:00

So tonight had to be one of the strangest nights of my life. Side note* I just recently moved back to the town I went to high school in to live with my grandparents for a semester. It all started at about 9:30 when I decided to go rent some movies at blockbuster. Dunkin' Donuts is on the way so I decided to go visit my sister at work before they closed the lobby. The visit lasted about 10 minutes or so, and then I was off to the video store. In the half mile or so before I got there, I noticed a cop who started to follow me. I didn't think anything of it at first, but then he followed me into the parking lot. After I parked I casually got out of my car with the dvds I was returning, and before I could take a second step he shined his flashlight in my face and said, "Excuse me, I noticed your exhaust is a bit loud." I turned to him and quickly explained that something small had fallen off the underskirts of my car a few days ago and that I hadn't been able to get it looked at yet. He then proceeded to ask for my license, registration, and proof of insurance. Unfortunately I had only one of three. I was surprised that I didn't have the updated insurance card, but even more surprised to hear that my license was suspended. After taking twenty minutes or so to fill out his little report in his car, he came back to my window and handed me a sheet of my offences and a court date. I don't think that there was a ticket, but I could be wrong; that's the last thing I need right now. He briefly described the court date and that I could be arrested if I was caught driving again. He said he needed to keep my drivers license, and then left me stranded there. After he pulled away, I sat there for a second, picked up the movies, and walked into blockbuster as if nothing happened. I had just been there the previous night so I already knew what I wanted, but I decided to walk around the perimeter anyway to pick out movies for next time. After checking out I walked back into the parking lot and laid my hands on top of my car for a couple minutes while scanning the parking lot and surrounding area. I must have seen three or four cops in and out of the lot, so I decided it was a bad idea to risk driving back myself. I put my movies in the trunk since my car doors don't lock (yes, my car is that amazing) and headed to stop & shop to use one of their payphones. After wasting a buck trying to get a hold of my sister, I sat down on a ledge near the carriages outside of the grocery store and pondered some more, not only about my current situation but my life. If I smoked, this would have been the perfect time to pull out a cigarette. After a bit of thought I figured it couldn't hurt to just walk back since it's only a couple of miles or so. Getting stopped by the policeman only set the tone for what was yet to come.

Do you belive in time travel?

2007-08-28T04:31:00.000-04:00

What better time to watch Donnie Darko then at 3:00 a.m. when I am rolling around my bed reminiscing and unable to put myself to sleep. The music that plays during the ending credits reminded me of some of Danny Elfman's works, so I'm currently listening to the Edward Scissor Hands soundtrack, another great movie. I must admit I'm quite at ease now, although still unable to fall asleep.

It's a coincidence how my previous entry related to certain aspects of Donnie Darko, Jim Cunningham's unfounded teachings in particular.

To answer the question I asked in the blog title, yes I do, but only in forward time travel. Physics explains that if you can travel fast enough, time will pass more slowly than it does here on earth. I read Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time and I don't recall him talking about traveling back in time, but he does mention a lot about dimensions and portals. I could be wrong, it's been a little while since I finished it.

And finally, as Elfman's soothing sounds fill my ears, and take over my mind... I am finally able to sleep.

On the Spot

2007-08-27T04:14:00.000-04:00

I'm horrible on the spot; I have trouble coming answers quickly enough to be considered a normal response time. If I try to force an answer, It'll come out all wrong. In the end, that forced response has the potential to become the exact oppose of what I really wanted to say. I suppose this is due to my lack of experience and preparation, but I feel that there's something else to it. For most questions that could possibly be asked, people generally have some sort of programed response stored somewhere in their brain. People have entire conversations with these certain programed responses. With me, I'm always second guessing things, so naturally my programed responses aren't exactly clear. When someone asks me a question, my brain throws me a slew of possible responses, and so it takes me a while to sort through them all. I am socially awkward because of this. When I'm around people, I spend most of my time listening. If you really sit back and listen to a group of people talking, you'd be amazed at how many things are assumed and taken for granted. Basically all I see are unfounded - unfiltered - programed responses flying back and forth from people's mouths and ears. What I'm afraid of is, will I ever really be able hold a normal vocal conversation? With my philosophy that nothing is for certain and to never stop questioning, this can prove to be extensively difficult to overcome.

From here this could quite possibly span out to an entire essay, but I'll leave that for later.

Practice Makes Pefect?

2007-08-25T00:13:00.000-04:00

It's been a while my old friend. I'm not quite sure how to explain the gaps in my entries, as there are limitless things to talk about. I suppose it's because it takes me some time to compile a set of similar ideas to formulate a narrow topic. Recently I haven't been able to manage my time wisely, as so the separation of thoughts has been quite difficult. Also, I've been reading a book called Bag of Bones by Stephen King. The main character, a novelist by the name of Mike Noonan has been stricken with a case of writer's block. Every time he sits down to write, his body involuntarily rejects any attempt to write a single word. I suppose to a certain degree, I've been infected by the same thing Mike has. Although in my situation it is created by my own fear that what I write will make no sense, a failed attempt in communication if you will. Since this is my strongest way of communication, as well as a way of expressing myself, you can see how such a failure can be devastating. Hence practice I suppose.

This is what I hope to accomplish in the coming months. Will it pay off? I hope so.

Foundation of Belief

2007-05-20T17:31:00.000-04:00

This is an excerpt from an after thought from a conversation I had the other night. It turned out to be quite the rant. Here it is:

"I still have tonights conversation circulating in my mind so before any of it escapes I want to amend the various pieces of it that I feel didn't quite get through to you the way I would have hoped. As I probably told you before, it is very rare that I talk that much in one day. I'm going guess that I might have talked more today than I have in weeks. It has been like this my whole life; I've never been verbally articulate. In addition to this, it is very difficult for me to convey my thoughts without first writing them down, especially since I now have many more thoughts flowing than ever before. Not to mention how hard it is to define the bases for who I am, for it is something I struggle with every day. This daily struggle is what every scientist or philosopher deals with (or for that matter, any free thinking or rational human being). Like Einstien put it, "The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day.". I am constantly questioning. From the time I roll out of bed in the morning, till the time I drift into my sanctuary of dreams, I am in a state of observance, questioning, and confirming and/or redefining. Now, from a scientific perspective, if a theory is proven wrong by another theory, it is replaced; this occurs much more often than you might think. Much like a theory, my beliefs are constantly being molded. It is not so cut and dry when it comes to what is true and what isn't. Tonight you might have caught me at a time this was actually happening, and so I didn't quite have a grasp on the redefined belief. Of course there could have been one or many, so you can imagine how these new beliefs can conflict with other ones, and so the redefining begins all over again. As you can see, I'm not one to believe something unless it makes sense to me and I have ample evidence.

So why the hell did I turn out like this? Who knows, I just did. The reason why I looked depressed tonight is because every time I drink and actually have a gap of time where I'm doing nothing but thinking, I revert back to the time I came to realization that I might never have a real strong connection with another person. Now I do realize that relationships take work, and as I said before, compromise. Everyone has a foundation of belief. They base all of their actions upon this foundation. Other beliefs form off of this foundation, and much like a tower of building blocks, if a belief in that original foundation is proven false, most of that tower comes toppling down. Imagine finding several holes, missing and/or cracked blocks, or just a tower made completely of imaginary play-doh in the multiple towers of belief a person might have. Now imagine looking around every single day and seeing there isn't a single person even close to having a strong foundation of blocks. As I said before, I am always changing my beliefs. All of these cracks and holes are the very theories that are proven false, and so they are replaced in my mind. So what I'm trying to say is that I find so many faults in the foundations of belief of so many people, I find it hard to relate to anyone. It is the foundation in which I need to relate to in order for that deep connection to exist. I'm not saying that two people can't be compatible if their foundations don't match up, because I know that it is very near impossible. What I'm saying is that my foundation looks like an orange nerf ball when compared with the average person's foundation which would look like a wooden cube, as to say they are very very different. You might be thinking, "how do you know that?". Well, sometimes I can tell right off the bat. For example when someone casually throws around the terms right and wrong; or even more instant when someone refers to god. I know automatically from just those few words that our foundations differ completely. To be more specific, when someone uses those words in a sincere way, their foundation is based on some sort of religion. I didn't label myself before, but I am what is called an atheist, which means a lack of belief in a deity.

It may not seem like it, but I am living the best life I can. If I were to make friends just for the sake of having friends, I wouldn't be any happier than I am now because I wouldn't agree with them on many things. Some of these things bother me so much, I can't even stand being around them.....which is why I tend to avoid most people."

So that's the bulk of it. It may seem like I am 100% sure that I am correct in my beliefs and there's no way I could be wrong, but that is not the case. I definitely could be wrong; I could be dead wrong. As I said, I'm sure part of my foundation of belief will be proven to be wrong, and at that time, it will be altered yet again. From all of the evidence and my understanding of that evidence, this is me and this is what I believe.

What it seems like to me is that most people have an unwaivering foundation of belief. They continue to learn new things, but these new things are only just plopped on top of their foundation, and they feel as if there is no reason for them to have any correlation whatsoever. Anyway, those are just my thoughts.

P.S. Being an excerpt, this rant may not make complete sense because it is a piece of a response that branched off a discussion. I'll probably give more specifics in future blogs.

Youtube-aholic in the Making

2007-04-21T22:44:00.000-04:00

Most of my online activity is basically limited to about five websites. There's yahoo for email, myspace for keeping in contact with family and "friends" not to mention my hopes of meeting decent people(yes I know I'm pathetic), bbc for the news, lifehacker for neat and random reviews, and most recent: youtube. In a previous blog I brought up a topic addressed by Brett Keane on youtube. From here on I'll probably be doing a lot more of that. For those of you who don't know, there's a lot going on at youtube. It's filled with much more than just random idiotically entertaining videos. Believe it or not, it's quite a political and philosophical hotspot. But for some reason youtube doesn't allow text comments longer than about 100 characters, which is really strange; text doesn't require much storage at all. So I either have to start making videos or write about them here. Since I'm a bit deficient in the oral articulation department, I'll stick with text blogging for now. Youtube seems like the most popular medium for communication right now so I should probably start practicing.

Tsuda Masami

2007-04-20T01:09:00.000-04:00

"Tsuda is a person who does everything slowly. From getting up to dusk, he will just sit there and veg out. He not only works very slowly, but also loves to sleep, so he can't catch up. In the world there are people who travel, go to concerts, and do other things. It's incredible."

- Tsuda Masami

Just a side quote from a manga I've been reading called Kareshi Kanojo or Kare Kano for short. Actually I've been reading the manga and watching the anime simultaneously. It's decent, I enjoy it, but it's clearly geared for the younger audience as it's about high school love, something I've never known.

Rhetoric

2007-04-07T00:17:00.000-04:00

A midnight blog! This is rare. I usually only write during early hours of the morning when I cannot sleep. Also, today is Friday; most of my posts occur as a result of stress during the week. Anyway, there are a couple things I'd like to talk about, but I guess I'll split them up.

Actually my thoughts are very scattered right now. I just wanted to write something.

My thoughts are circular and random. Much like spinning the dials on a combination lock, I must pluck my thoughts out at a certain moment in order for them to make sense. I wish they were divided into individual rings, but unfortunately they make up a large chaotic sphere. But of course in the end, the outcome is likely to only make sense to me. Please, if you are reading this, make an effort to prove me wrong.

Morality

2007-03-30T23:28:00.000-04:00

A while back I saw a video on youtube by Brett Keen about morality. The topic was: "Can atheists be moral?" In his video he explained how atheists could be moral people. Going back to the definition of atheism, it's only an individual who lacks the believe in a deity.

What the question should be is: "can an atheist have a belief system?". Religion is just that, a belief system with some sort of "god/s" at the center. So, if atheism is only the lack of belief for a certain belief system, why can't they have some different belief system?

Addressing the original question that Brett Keane discussed in his video, Atheists can be moral people. The moral "code" that they follow is in accordance with their belief system. What must be understood though is that people who follow a certain moral code do in fact have a belief system, whether they call it a religion or not.

So what about me? I consider myself an atheist, as well as an agnostic. What sets me apart from most is that I do not have a belief system. The words: right/wrong, good/evil mean nothing to me because they resulted from a religion and/or some other sort of belief system. I may coincidentally follow a moral lifestyle, but it is just that, a coincidence.

To further illustrate what I mean I'll give some examples. Let's seee....here's a simple one. To a religious person, it may be "wrong" or "immoral" to steal and so therefore they will not steal because of their belief system. I'll be truthful, I used to steal all the time. When I was in high school I stole a magazine from the local cvs every week or so. The only reason I stopped was because I was caught once. I became scared that I would be arrested, so I stopped stealing. Now I don't steal because I'm afraid I will go to jail, not because I believe it's immoral or wrong.

To society, I appear to be a moral person, but I'm actually not. I am not moral, but most of my actions are, according to the viewer with the belief system.

You may be thinking, "shut up with indication of the belief system". It's actually very important that I specify this. I'm probably just confusing you, so I won't explain why.

I think I'll end there. Comments are appreciated.

P.S. If you would like to view Brett Keane's videos you can find him on youtube or just by clicking here

Another blog about religion and such that I've been reading you can find here

Miscommunication

2007-03-28T01:43:00.000-04:00

Today, I came to the realization of the applications of miscommunication; how very often they occur and how catastrophic the results can be.

A small example is a button my mother gave me. It says "God doesn't believe in me either. Things even out." I first interpreted this as someone else also not believing in "me", because of the word "either". What I thought it meant was that since god and whoever looked at the button don't "believe" in the person who owns the button, things evened out in the sense that both views don't matter. As you might see, that doesn't make much sense. Later, I reworded it so that it made sense to me: "I don't believe in God. God doesn't believe in me. Things even out." That makes more sense than the original, but again doesn't make any sense at all because how is it possible to know if God doesn't believe in me? Also, if I don't believe in God, how the hell is he supposed to believe in anything if he doesn't exist in my mind?

Anyway, I concluded that it was just meant to be a funny atheist pin, which is appropriate for me. But I still believe that having the word "either" included makes the message quite confusing. My above explanation probably makes no sense either, which leads to another theory: if you try to explain a miscommunication and you are part of that miscommunication, it will become ever more complicated.

This miscommunication, no matter how small, may lead to something as extreme as a war between two countries or something as trivial as a high school breakup. They exist everywhere and happen everyday and most go unnoticed. Which makes you think: how much do we really understand about each other?

Me, Myself, & I

2007-03-27T03:30:00.000-04:00

Hello folks! I'm going to make an effort to make a note here every day. They say you learn something new every day. That is exactly what I will post. So here I go.

Today I noticed......what did I notice again......hmmmmm... oh yeah....I noticed that....actually I'm not even sure what I noticed. More of the everyday observations that I make every day....without really learning anything. But there has to be something right? "Thinking of something extremely trivial"......hey! I noticed I can type much more efficiently with my nails cut short and filed. Yes, that's all.

Actually no, that's not all. There's something bigger that I did want to bring up, but I'm not exactly sure how to express it. Um ok...I don't generally like being involved with social activities. I'm just not the type. I guess I could have been the type. I suppose it all depends on your upbringing and atmosphere. I'm sure it's all very complicated how we all come to be. My sister and I for example are only two and half years apart in age and were brought up in the same house....for the most part and our personalities are completely different.

Anyway, I will stop that rant short; for there are an infinite number of reasons why we turn out the way we do. So what the hell am I trying to say? I'm eccentric. I'm sure I'm not the only own of my kind...I'm sure there are different variations and degrees of similarities, but I feel that I'm on of the furthest away what is considered "normal". Of course I don't know this for sure, I'm just basing it what I have observed thus far in my life.

I guess I should be more descriptive. I like being alone. I am more at ease when I'm by myself. I don't have to worry about anything....my looks, making a good impression, or entertaining anyone. I don't really care about that stuff anyway, but I like when it's absent altogether.

Besides that, I feel as if my view of the world is vastly different from everyone else's. I know that everyone perspective is different, which is why I included the word vast. I'm also aware that my perspective is the only one I have ever experienced. I say that mine is vastly different from everyone else's because of the comparisons I make between other people's actions and my own.

I can't really list all my evidence right now. I will leave this for later entries.

That's all for now.

Ramble

2007-03-26T01:55:00.000-04:00

So instead of having a point to a post, I'm just going to ramble tonight. Remember in your early high school english classes when you had to write in that little blue book for the first ten minutes of class? How many of your teachers actually told you to write "I do not know what to write" if you didn't know what to write about? So yes, this is one of those posts. I do not specifically know what to write about. I am back from spring break after a week straight of procrastination. My roommate asked me if I got any work done over break; this was of course a rhetorical question.

I am mainly writing because I am not tired, which is too bad considering my first class starts in let's see....six hours. My schedule gets pretty messed up when I don't have to be anywhere. This is because I only go to sleep when I am tired. I hate trying to force myself to sleep when I'm wide awake. I much prefer falling asleep within a few minutes, as apposed to hours. I suppose this is because I never mastered the art of putting myself to sleep, but I'm pretty sure it's something else.

I am rarely bored. I always find something to do with myself, something distracting. When trying to force myself to sleep, I become bored, and I start thinking. Then I drift into a melancholic river of memories. By distracting myself up until the point of passing out, I can avoid this feeling of sadness.

Whenever I have a silent moment, this sadness creeps back; I can't go a day without it slipping into my thoughts. It is at its worse when I must force myself to sleep.

I haven't had a ramble like this in a while.

Rambles are fun.

I like rambles.

I should do this more often.

Goodnight!

Living on the Edge

2007-02-27T03:40:00.000-05:00

In response to my last entry, which was an eternity ago, I came across a quote from the movie James Bond Die Another Day. I couldn't remember the exact wording, so I altered it a bit: By living on the edge, we know who we truly are.

I am still not living on the edge. Actually, I'm still still in the same boat. I have yet to take that leap. On top of that, I'm currently sampling a band called The Shins, which puts me in somewhat of a carefree mood.

I recently filled out a survey one of my sisters posted, and one of the questions asked : "what is one thing you want to happen in 2007?". My answer was the word "passion". As it may appear, I did not have a relationship in mind. I was thinking about my studies. One day I glanced down at my floor and noticed my textbooks haphazardly shoved underneath by bed. I pondered to myself, "If I am person of science, logic, and philosophy, why am I not treating these books as my bible?". I realized that I am not passionate about anything other than perhaps compulsive downloading.

I understand what needs to happen, yet I just sit back and apathetically bob my head to the sound of The Shins everyday.

What better song to hear now, Sleeping Lessons....at 3:00 a.m....while watching the snowflakes fall passed my window....so blissfully....wondering what tomorrow will bring....

Fear of Failure

2006-12-29T03:15:00.000-05:00

I generally don't fear anything. This is what I have lead myself to believe, until recently. There has been an underlying fear that I have chosen to ignore. I have come to realize that in order for me to succeed, I must overcome it.

To be more specific, I only fear failure if I have truly given it my all. I suppose it's a fear of testing my potential. I couldn't imagine how I would feel if all of my efforts yielded meager results. My excuse so far has been the fact that I don't apply myself. I fear what might happen if I actually do. I've been avoiding it so far.

No matter what my limits may be, I need to test them, examine them, experiment with them, and finally embrace them.

Motivation + Inspiration

2006-12-07T02:00:00.000-05:00

So here I am sitting on a huge pile of work at two o'clock in the morning carrying out my usual activities of procrastination. I eventually resort to a seemingly endless gaze of my desktop, head in hand, waiting for some inspirational hand to pop out of my notebook screen to smack me in the face. No such luck. Despite my purposeful placement of the drawing I find most inspirational, I remain unmotivated. It seems as though motivation and inspiration are separate entities. If something I admire to the highest degree doesn't motivate me, what will?

Something has to change. I don't know what, but I hope it happens soon.

"College Hoodie" Follow Up

2006-12-03T05:19:00.000-05:00

During one day at work this guy walked in wearing a t-shirt sporting the text: "community college". I was halfway in between the back room and the main floor, so one step to my left and I was free to laugh my ass off. I am so going to purchase that shirt. I'm also getting the shirt that just says "college", I think they're hilarious.

Here are a couple random quotes I stumbled over during a random search:

"Are you sick of every Tom, Dick, and Shaniqua with a "College" shirt on? Most of the people we've seen with those on wouldn't be fit to hold John Belushi's vomit bucket. Show'em your sense of humor, and career ambition to become an electrician, with this "Community College" shirt.

How many highschool kids wear Belushi's shirt? Tons ... but where are all the big fat party animals? They're in community college learning to be plumbers, locksmiths, meth engineers and more. With our specialized program, you too can earn a degree in partying down, while showing your thrifty side (in the form of a t-shirt). Throw the shirt on, grab some fellow students and get to the party. Before you know it, you'll be doing tequila shots with that grouchy 50 year-old classmate who got laid off from the plant."

- Source

....and

"A navy blue t-shirt with block lettering that reads "College". Great for college students, and those who don't subscribe to that whole higher education philosophy. 100% cotton."

-Source

Which leads me to the question: what exactly is "higher education"?

I would guestimate that even though my school is geared toward "higher education", as to say: a continuation from high school, only about ten percent of the students are actually enrolled and participating in the effort.

Hopefully that makes sense.

Singin' in the Rain

2006-11-08T17:30:00.001-05:00

Actually, I was humming, back and forth from my dorm room to the cafeteria. Humming the song "For Real" by Okkervil River, wishing someone would tackle me from behind, face first into the puddle blotched sidewalk.

Music video of my new favorite song:

Here's a little summary of the band and their album the Black Sheep Boy.
Click Me!

Don't forget to vote!

2006-11-07T20:30:00.000-05:00

I really don't understand why so many people are encouraging everyone to vote. You may be thinking, "well, voting is a good thing! We should take advantage of our democratic privileges". As I see it, most people are ignorant in the area of politics and therefore should not vote. Most people are more interested in who won the last patriots game than how many people just died in Iraq. You shouldn't even be allowed to vote unless you know all or most of the facts. I would guess that fifty percent or more of the folks who voted today did so with very little knowledge. Here's my assumption breakdown: 10% made intelligent decisions based on the facts presented to them, 40-50% just voted with their designated party or with who their parents voted for, 25% voted based on one or more allegations they might have heard (let it be a false promise or statistic), and 15% voted just because they heard Ben Afflec or some other giant figure tell them to vote.

I hate to sound pompous, but I probably know more than most people do and I didn't vote. Shit, I watch c-span all the time and I also read the paper. I even watched two of the debates by Liberman and Lemont. I still had no idea who to vote for.

My mother once said that you should have to take a test before you can give birth. I think you should have to take a test before you're able to a lot of things.

Don't you agree?

College Hoodie

2006-11-03T20:33:00.000-05:00

Since I've been living here on campus at CCSU I've noticed that at on any given day, at least thirty to forty percent of the students walking around are wearing a CCSU hoodie or shirt of some sort. Since this is an everyday observation, I would guess that most of the school's population owns at least one piece of clothing imprinted with the ccsu emblem. What I'm trying to figure out is why. Why do students feel the the need to display their school's clothing, especially while on campus? It's almost like a school uniform or something. It's either an issue of pride, sentimental value, fitting in, or a mixture of the three. The reasoning seems to be pretty cut and dry, but the first two reasons have conflicting descriptions: 1) Freshman wear the clothing. What do they have to be proud of? It's not even that hard of a school to get in to. 2) If something has sentimental value, it generally isn't used/worn very often. The third reason however is valid, but is a pretty dumb reason.

Anyway, I'm probably not making much sense; I tend to over think many things. I probably will end up buying a ccsu hoodie, but not until I've established myself here. I want something other than a diploma and degree to remember my years here, something of sentimental value that I will not proudly display every day.

Here's a perfect portrayal of the point I'm trying to get across.

Taken from National Lampoon's Animal House.

"aw, fuck, I'm straight"

2006-11-03T18:00:00.000-05:00

I had a good laugh after reading an article my friend gave me to read. As you saw in the title of this blog, the name of it is aw, fuck, I'm straight.

I would recommend reading it all; it's pretty hilarious.

The only small problem I have with it is that it suggests that gay men are "easy". But then again, men are naturally more sexual than women so I suppose that's not very hard to beleive.

Procrastination Induced Excitement

2006-10-18T18:24:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been noticing that stressful situations are somehow morphing into the only excitement in my life. E.g. Today I wrote up a two page seminar summary and also a one page lab introduction within thirty five minutes before handing them in. It was a challenge! I suppose I won't really know if I passed the challenge until they are both graded, but I think I did pretty decent. First I had to write them up, send them to myself via email, run to the computer lab, fetch the files from yahoo, print them out, and finally run upstairs to my class. I was pretty surprised I was on time since I left my dorm with only five minutes to spare.

Anway, I pondered the notion while munching on a green pepper at dinner and I thought that perhaps I was procrastinating on purprose just so that I would have to rush to get my work done. In turn, excitement would enter my life in the form of stress. Then again, I was having fun at the same time; so I suppose it all equals out.

The other reason could be that I'm just really freaking lazy.

I think it's probably the latter.

Salad!

2006-10-09T23:30:00.000-04:00

Random thought/observation of the day:

If there's no more lettuce in the bowl at the salad bar, everyone bypasses the station completely. I really don't understand the reason for this. I guess I can see how the lettuce is the "main ingredient" to the salad, but by no means is it the most nutritious. I wouldn't be surprised if it's actually the least benificial; especially with the fact that my school serves iceberg lettuce, which is mostly water and has very few nutrients. Besides that, there are mushrooms, carrots, cherry tomoatoes, cucumbers, and onions. Eating even a small amount of one of the other vegetables seperately would be more benificial than eating a whole bowl of the iceburg lettuce.

I should also take into account that most people usually get lettuce only, which is probably the biggest factor. I also don't understand this. I suppose I could just blame it all on ignorance. I wonder if students really believe they are eating healthy by filling their small salad bowl with iceberg lettuce and drowning it in dressing that is high in fat, cholesterol, carbohydrates, sodium, etc.

Anyway, it is unfortunate for the ignorant. That's all for now. Until next time! Learn more about food before consuming it! Of course that's only if you care about yourself.

Organization of Thoughts

2006-10-01T13:59:00.000-04:00

First livejournal, then a second livejournal, then blogger; these things don't last forever, but I seem to have fun with them while I have them. Of course the fun lies in the replies I get which I don't get many of, but it's still worth it nonetheless. I just like the organization and easy access of all my random thoughts.

Speaking of random thoughts, I had one during brunch today. There are multiple TV's in my cafeteria at school and I was wondering if I could program a remote control to work on them. I imagined myself changing all the channels in the cafe while everyone else was looking around wondering what the hell was going on. Of course this made me giggle and caused people around me to glance at me strangely, wondering why and how I was laughing by myself. I wonder if many other people randomly make themselves laugh. I've never seen it happen before.

Nuts

2006-10-01T03:39:00.000-04:00

Hmm, somehow I created my blog last night and it all got deleted? I really hope that doesn't happen again. Creations are important!