Something Simpler

05/02/2011

2011-05-02T15:46:00.000-07:00

That's right! More than a year. That's nuts...

What warrants the post? Mostly, I'm bored. But also, I'm feeling pretty nostalgic.

Update first.

I have a girlfriend now, so this post will probably be more sweet than bitter (yes, I'm that shallow of a person.) She's sweet, she's funny in a funny way, she makes me happy. It's nice.

I'm no longer working at Namco. I have been living sans parents for over a year now. Starting to go back to school.

In short, things are better.

Why the nostalgia? Same reason as always: talking to old friends. I miss it so much... but...

There's a lot I try to keep out of our conversations now. The reminiscing does not flow naturally into conversation anymore. I'm cautious. And for reasons I can only guess at. I guess I'm afraid. I don't want to remember it out loud. It'll just make me sad. That, and I guess I don't want to be held captive by it anymore. I keep looking to the same people for the same memories... only they aren't the same people and my memories are probably different from there's... Wow... That makes me so sad, hahaha. Anyway, 2011 so far, for the most part, can be summed up by the phrase "so far, so good."

Nope.

2010-08-22T11:49:00.000-07:00

I'm not okay.

Just thought I'd throw that out there.

Swept!

2010-05-02T21:22:00.000-07:00

Wow, Last post January 30th, huh? Ain't that something... Its been a while, blogspot. I'm not ignoring you, I promise. I've just been really busy. Just an absolute whirlwind, really.

Let's get back in step, shall we?

I read something earlier this week that went something like this: people who label themselves cynical are not cynical at all. The fact that they can even label themselves as "Cynics" implies that they admit that they're viewing the world from an unjustly negative perspective. True cynics will tell you that they are pragmatic. Anyone who is comfortable labeling themselves a cynic is really an Optimist.

Now, I've heard some of the best people in my life say that they are cynics. And after having read this nicely written, astute observation, it really and truly fit with said people. They are the most optimistic people I know, but they're like me in some respect: they see the world how it is, and they have an idea of what it ought to be, but they hate how hard it is to reconcile the two. And by the by, I've always thought of myself as a pragmatist.

Hmmm... What else? I should probably leave that as it's own post, huh? I mean, really, If I say anything afterward, it might take away some meaning.

Fuck it.

I miss... everything. Over the past four months, things have changed so drastically and seemingly permanently that even while I'm writing this, I feel a bit lost and confused. I wouldn't say for the worse, but I definitely can't say for the better without chuckling at the naivety it would require for me to say that and really believe it. The thing is, most of the time, change comes over time. It happens so gradually that you wont have to need to adjust to the changes because you were adjusting as it happened. This was not the case. Change happened so fast that I find myself trying to catch up. I feel like I had to let go of parts of me that I was either not ready to let go of, not willing to let go of, or not knowing whether I needed to begin with. On the flip side, I've had to grow new parts of myself just stay ahead of a seemingly inevitable disaster.

Anyway, I'm trying. I'm doing. I suppose that's what matters. I suppose I could try even harder just so that one day, I could read this sometime in the near future and say to myself, "I beat you, old me."

2010-01-30T05:59:00.000-08:00

I feel like writing. Well, talking really, but this has been a pretty decent substitute for the past few months/years. Its crazy right now. I'm dying to figure it out. Its always one thing after another. Or at least it seems that way. Every time I feel as though I've become stronger, it is immediately and relentlessly tested. I normally like tests. The ones I could pass with flying colors at least. I love measuring my abilities and capacity in regards to my emotional/mental status, I honestly do. Not to toot my own horn here, but I seem to always come out for the better. My mind is something I would never want to fade away. But its getting a little ridiculous. I try to count my blessing, no, I DO count my blessing. I think I could safely say that I am blessed. I'm just wondering if its all starting to level off or, if it hasn't, and I'm looking down the barrel of a gun right now, how much further can it go? Scratch that, I don't want to know.

Wordplay

2009-12-10T20:36:00.000-08:00

Vicarious

Implicitly explicit living only through
what I've heard about through the word of word of mouth.
an existence eked out
so carefully carved from fear and loathsome memory
sounding out every word before they even leave
the edges of my mouth
imagining the infinitesimal amount of possibilities
which have inevitably left me frozen in place
paralyzed from the chest down
while the world spins sprints madly on.
so it is with the the heaviest heart, I admit the following:
The best and most that I'll ever be
will never outstretch the confines
of my own experiences.

Trying ever so desperately to understand it all.

2009-10-18T04:32:00.001-07:00

I have found that perspective is something that only seems to come in waves. When there are droughts of it, people become stagnant, stranded, static, crops of the good dry up and whither away. When they come in floods, its up to the individual to seek higher ground, to stay above water. Take in every breath like you wont be breathing for minutes at a time. When I hear the phrase "Just keep breathing" this has got to be what they meant.

Too soon? (Pretty Much)

2009-10-11T01:35:00.000-07:00

Its coming on christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money
Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby cry

He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I'm so hard to handle
I'm selfish and I'm sad
Now I've gone and lost the best baby
That I ever had
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I made my baby say goodbye

Its coming on christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

Parallel

2009-08-15T01:25:00.000-07:00

The stages of my development envelope pieces of time
or moments that i keep in the middle of me.
prodding the crevices of the wrinkles of my mind
what ive long loved and missed, love and miss
shiver splinters of pulse right through the spine
what. belongs. to. me?
the borders and waters have been crossed
and tested
only
there had to have been a better place to end up
right or maybe?
i'll lie in wait and want
for the path to open... without the
pins and needles

The New Life

2009-08-11T01:19:00.001-07:00

La Vita Nuova

In that book which is
My memory . . .
On the first page
That is the chapter when
I first met you
Appear the words . . .
Here begins a new life

-Dante Alighieri

Time

2009-06-29T21:30:00.000-07:00

I know I complain about it a lot, as futile as that is. But it is so ruthless. So gutwrenchingly relentless. I know there's another side to it. But it's so hard to see the other side of the spectrum. Time strips way too many things away to cover up for all the joys it could bring. At least that's how I see it: The [Hour]glass is half empty from where I'm staring at it.

My childhood friend's grandfather died recently. How recently, I don't know. He and I are no longer as close as we we used to be. In fact, it's probably just the complete opposite, so I wouldn't know. Right now though, I wish things could be the way they were way back then, when we could've easily said we were bestfriends. We were closer to being brothers back then, he and I. That's a different post though, isn't it?

I knew his grandfather. I didn't know him quite as well as I'd have liked, but I knew him. Whenever I came over, it was the same thing "OH, hiii Beeleh, how ees your seestar?" Inquiries into my life. Inquiries so small but packed with so much meaning. I'll miss them. I'll miss the other comments and questions too, comments about my forever fluctuating weight, questions about the everchanging location of what I call "home," questions about my family, my parents, questions that can only truly be asked by someone who knows you just enough. He was mostly quiet. Whenever I saw him, it either looked like he had just woken up or just finished fishing. I'll miss that too.

Again, I wish I could go back in time and undo a lot of what I did. Regrets, you know? I wish I could be in a place in my friend's life where helping him would come as easy as helping a close family member. But all I can really do is call him up, tell him I'm sorry, tell him I'm here if he needs me.

I'm sorry Jon. I'm here. I'm here if you need me.

Anyway, time, so lame.

I know I've made this blog private, but...

2009-06-10T21:19:00.000-07:00

...I find it less interesting to write in now. Funny, huh? I thought that I'd respect myself a little bit more if I could endlessly rant and complain about things and have no audience for that ranting or complaining. I guess I kind of do. But at the same time, it was nice not knowing whether or not people actually stopped to read this stuff. The truth is, I like to write. I happen to think I'm pretty decent at communicating thoughts/actions/things in general in the form of written word. Having this blog set to private robs me of the little bit of happiness I get out of writing stuff out. In my mind, this blog always felt like an online-diary or journal of sorts. At least, that's the thought I always kept in the back of my mind which, in turn, I used to convince myself with which led to me setting it to private. But now writing here has gotten that much more boring.

I think what finally tipped the scale though was reading the last few posts. Its all sad bastard shit, isn't it? Really though, it's hard to think of the good stuff when a whole bunch of bull is following it around. You guys know that, what am I saying...

Anyway, I'd like to write more, but since I'm no longer writing with anyone in particular in mind, I guess I'll leave it here.

Okay.

2009-04-20T21:38:00.001-07:00

I actually really do feel like writing something. It's just hard to make everything I say not sound like a complaint in one way or another. But, I don't have any real friends. Not ones that I can really take a dump on and expect them to stick around for it anyway. Is that what a real friend is? I don't even know. I spent so much time trying to figure out the proper boundaries and limits of the friendships I keep, through theory and practice, and I just end up messing it up or getting messed up or some fine cluster-fuck of both. I hate trying to define things. To compartmentalize shit. What inevitably happens is either a huge let down, or a fake "I knew it... Oh well" moment. I have a huge problem with separating "how things ought to be" with "how things really are". And I choose not to do a damned thing to reconcile the two things. Either way, this blog seems to be something I can take dumps on and I know for a fact that it's not gonna go anywhere.

Sometimes I feel like I'm hiding in plain sight. I feel like we're all hiding, actually. Hiding away behind personae that we feel fits the best within our little social circles. I think a lot of people catch glimpses of who they really are in fleeting moments, but are almost never really aware that they are being someone who they aren't: it's become such a routine. Sure, people fake being happy, content, all that other bullshit on a day to day basis, just to keep their sanity. But, again, I doubt that most people actually spend time with the actuality of it all. I doubt most people feel the true gravity of their black-hole-centered lives. I am aware of it, for myself at least. I may not be fully aware of who I really am, I try my best to keep dazed, but I constantly find myself putting in extra effort to pretend. Pretend to be happy, pretend to be well adjusted, pretend that, while I'm talking to you, all of this isn't running through my head, pretend to be, for the lack of a better term, normal. I hate not being able to trick myself well enough, or reach a routine that makes it bearable or even worth living. It's all just one huge house of cards. I feel like all I'm really doing is waiting for everything to topple so I can feel okay to topple with it.

Anyway, I think that's all I feel like sharing right now.

Sorry guys, this is cheaper than therapy.

Being broke sucks.

2009-04-20T21:32:00.000-07:00

That is all.

Emo

2009-04-07T21:06:00.000-07:00

I really needed to have coffee

with someone today.

I really needed to

have

coffee.

I really needed someone

today.

I really needed

someone.

neededsomeone

1need

someone

I had no one to tell.

2009-04-05T08:32:00.000-07:00

*WARNING: This is another Emo post. Read no further if you do not like seeing someone complain about the tiny insignificant going-ons in their life*

I got promoted at work. Don't know about a pay raise just yet, word is I have to keep the position for a few weeks before they decide to even keep me in it, but, I got promoted. The reason why it's such a big deal to me is there are people that have worked at that office for literally years longer than me, and even people who have worked in the business for even longer than a few years, and some how, after five months of working at this place and in the gaming world period, I got promoted over them. I don't get it. I still don't. Kind of scared about the whole thing. I thought I was shitty, hell, when the bossman called me over to promote me, I was 95 percent sure I was going to get canned.

Anyway, the point of this post was to point out the fact that I didn't know who to tell. I mean, out of my friends. I told my family, took them out to dinner to celebrate even. But I didn't know who to tell out of my group of friends. Don't get me wrong, I could've told any one of them and they all would've been just as happy as the next. But, there's a closeness that just isn't there anymore. See, my closest friends believe that, with me, they've reached a level of friendship in which we could leave each other alone for a couple of years, come back, and we'll still be at that level of closeness; we could pick up where we left off. I want to adopt this, I really do. But, being the crazy, insecure and trapped-in-my-head kind of guy I am, I need reminders. That's why you'll always find me retelling stories of instances of great friendship. Because, essentially, I am trying to relive the best parts of it, the parts where I knew for a fact that I play a significant role in their lives and vice-versa. Crazy, right? I know it's crazy. But, split a child up from close family members long enough and even that child will forget what it was to be loved by that family.

Anyway, dear world, I got promoted! Yay me! (silver lining has been lined)

14: Objects in Space

2009-03-23T18:56:00.000-07:00

"None of it means a damned thing"

Because it's been awhile.

2009-03-22T07:10:00.001-07:00

"I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'" -Vonnegut, Time Quake

I cannot...

2009-03-19T04:03:00.000-07:00

For the life of me fall asleep. Same old story: thinking too much.

I just need for you to be quiet, Mr. Brain.

I don't care how it happens, just stop making me not sleep. Seriously.

Here I am again hopelessly putting something down in this blog, trying to lull my brain to sleep.

Now is not the time left aside for wondering about everything. Looking for half formed answers to half formed questions. Now is not the time for that. I just want to sleep. Is it really too much to ask for? Do we really need to do it like this? To keep asking the same things about the same things for the same reasons? To chase each wild thought down to the answer only to find that it splits at the end? We've been there so many times. We've viewed each perspective singularly, its sum, every facet of every minute mighty detail, do we have to do this again? And again? And again?

And again?

Just go to bed, please? Is there a mind equivalent chew toy out there that no one has told me about? I'd pay out the ass for one.

For those who know and were wondering...

2009-03-19T01:24:00.000-07:00

I didn't make it.

It's all just as well I guess. I wouldn't have known what to do if I had. Truth is there wasn't a place for it in my life right now.

Sad? Of course. I would've made a place for it. But if I always got what I wanted out of life, I wouldn't be able to recognize it in a way that the present me would want to. Does that make sense?

Anyway, details later I suppose.

Feelin' better, no worries.

2009-03-16T18:49:00.000-07:00

It comes and goes.

Besides, I am now watching How I Met Your Mother. The fact that Ted is the way he is comforting.

Can't wait for Season 4 to finish up!

P.S. Robin is so hot...

Kinda sad

2009-03-03T20:33:00.000-08:00

Don't really know why.

Good evening to you dear blog.

2009-03-01T23:53:00.000-08:00

I have not written in you in a long while. Truth be told, I wanted to, but I've been too lazy and scramble-brained.

So here we go.

A few days ago, I was introduced to the idea of the quarter-life crisis. No, not introduced, re-introduced. I didn't know it personally, but I definitely knew of it. The past eight years went by so damn fast that I think the blood is still making its way from my brain to the rest of my body even still. I don't even think I've gained a firm grasp on anything the last decade had to offer. Thus bringeth the quarter-life crisis conversation. I don't really think I'm in the middle of one. I don't think I am, at least. But I feel like I'm in a place where it's just a matter of waking up the next day in the middle of it. I've been fighting so hard not to grow up any more than I absolutely had to that I think I unknowingly held myself up too much.

I don't remember if I posted about my getting high for the first time experience yet, but I think I will. It was the most horrible feeling I've ever experienced. Too many things go on in my head as it is, but getting high just completely lowered the floodgates. I couldn't believe how fast I was thinking. And another thing, I had no idea how bad it all was. I mean, I had an idea of how bad it was, but I wouldn't have imagined it was nearly that bad. Either way, there's a growing up experience right there.

My dad spent the entire day on the couch. He says he's sick. I think it's all coming down on him. Truth be told, I don't know how to feel. I want to help him because he's my dad and I love him. But I can't stand who he is. I hate him. I think I hate myself because I'm a lot like him, truth be told. Why is he the way he is? Why am I?

I finally nutted up and spoke my mind about everything to two important people. Laid it all out for them. Part of being a grown up, right? Ha. Am I even a grown up? I ought to be by now. But the simple fact that I have to ask that and questions that are related to it kind of tells me I'm not. That's okay. I wasn't ready anyway. But will I ever be?

Taking responsibility for my faults has never been a huge problem for me. Most of the time, I'll be the first to point them out. I think it's one of the only redeeming qualities I have.

I'm trying to remember if I brushed my teeth. I need to sleep.

I think I need my friends more than I let myself believe. I tried so hard not to need them, but in the end, I do, and I hate that so much.

It's frustrating trying to figure who it is and what it is you want to be. It's hard coming to grips with the finality of not being that person.

I guess that's it for now. I need to sleep.

I did some digging and...

2009-02-06T21:15:00.000-08:00

"I remember telling a friend long time ago over breakfast that, when people develop significant relationships at such young ages, a large part of their identities merge whether it was done so consciously, unconsciously, or both. Sure, it happens in adult relationships, but the younger the two people start in this relationship, the more they adopt from one another. We spend so many of those younger years trying to figure out who we are and what we want and gravitating towards groups of people with similar goals and interests that forging this identity with a constant influence (a strong one I might add) such as your very first love would inevitably leave its mark on everything you do from that point forward."

I can't remember when I wrote it. I found it on a back up DVDRom along with some old songs I can't find on the interwebs anymore and some porn. Anyway, I felt like posting it for the sake of posting something that wasn't a random music video or something emo.

Either way, I still agree with what the younger me is saying. And, while I can't remember when I wrote it, I remember that breakfast and I remember which friend I was telling this to. It was at a Hobbes. I had the eggs, you had the fruits. Weird time for you I think, if I'm remembering this correctly. I think I was trying to help you with something. Who knows. I often try to help when and where I know I can. Operative word/phrase in that sentence would be "try" and "where I know I can." After all, we're only human. Anyway, we almost ditched our responsibilities that day for a day trip to S.F. I think that was at least four years ago, coming on five. I miss that stuff.

I think I decided to post this because I was feeling nostalgic (what's new, right?<--- double meaning intended). But I hope it can play a different function to all who may read (all four of you).

Later than I'd usually hope for these types of posts, but better late than never.

2009-01-23T19:24:00.000-08:00

"Captain Mike: You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You could wear, curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go."

Feel fine in '09.

Guilty pleasure song, yes, but... Pretty Much

2009-01-19T19:19:00.000-08:00

"Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken
Your best friend always sticking up for you even when I know youre wrong
Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance five-hour phone
Conversation
The best soy latte that you ever had . . . and me"

AIM Logs

2009-01-10T22:10:00.000-08:00

Forgot I even enabled the damn thing. AIM logs I mean. Re-reading all of these conversations it's all kind of funny. It kind of shapes up some of the relationships you have/had/thought you had. I was reading a particular conversation log in which I sent Ngan this YouTube video:

I can barely make out what the dude is saying let alone understand the meaning behind what he's saying. All I know is that it sounds so sad. I looked up the title of the song in the dictionary, 'cause I swear to God I've heard the word and I knew it had an actual function as opposed to it being completely made up. Anyway, definition:

flume
/flum/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [floom]
noun, verb, flumed, flum⋅ing.
–noun
1. a deep narrow defile containing a mountain stream or torrent.

There are more definitions, but I chose the one I liked the best. Didn't help me figure out what the song meant. But that's not what I was after anyway. I'm sure I could pick this song apart pretty well and put my own meaning to it, but I honestly don't feel like doing that. Instead, I'm going to let the feeling settle.

Point of this post? Sort of still trying to figure it out, that's why I'm writing right now. Reading the AIM conversations just made me miss people. It made me miss how those people used to make me feel. I'm sort of just lost right now. Normally I'd call someone, which I have, and then I'd talk to them, which I would have but they didn't pick up, so now I'm just resigned to sitting here writing it out for random readers to pick apart.

I guess the point of this post is letting it all just take you. It doesn't have to mean anything. Nothing has to mean anything if you don't need it to at that very moment. Just let it take you. Right now, I'm sad. What I would normally do is pick apart why that is, unwittingly uncovering a bunch of other stuff that I didn't mean to bring back up, never finding what it was that started it all. To be honest, that's probably still going to happen. But for now, writing it all out is helpful. Right now, I'm just going to let it wash over me. The trick is to not panic. The trick is to try not to fix it right away. Pain is often enough to get people to do anything to stop it as fast as possible, no matter the cost. The fear of it is just as likely to trip you up. Stay fixed. Stay focused. This is you hurting. It's okay. It all hurts from time to time. It doesn't matter why. Not right now at least. Don't let it change into anything else. Just settle for not knowing for now.

Reevaluate

2009-01-07T23:07:00.000-08:00

Everything there is that could possibly be reevaluated. Life, sure, but I'm talking about the facets of life. I'm talking about the shape and height of the world we know. I want so much to give in to the idea that everything sucks. That nothing is worth fighting for. To hate every God damn/made thing under the fucking sun. It would make things so much easier. It'd give me peace. I tell people that I'm apathetic about everything, that I don't care enough to care. The real problem is not everything sucks. Everything is beautiful in it's own awe-provoking/simplistic/sad-bastard/miserable/absurd little way. The real problem that I wouldn't dare say out loud is that there is far too much out there that's worth fighting for. Things you wouldn't think twice about loving. You have to understand why I try to lie to myself. I have to understand why people can be so unnervingly selfish. Being anything else is insurmountably hard. Fuck it, the root of it all is that I care to the point where I can't do anything. I care to the point where I've got so many things in the air, all equally important to me, and I can't decide which one needs catching first. I care to the point that it will probably kill me one day, one way or another. It's all made me so miserable, so undeniably lost, frightened, and scared, that I don't know how to live anymore. One step at a time? Fuck that. Life doesn't happen one step at a time. It wont wait for you to keep that kind of pace. Don't think about it, just do it? Screw you. How can you think of anything else? Better yet, how can you do anything else?

So what now?

You think I'm going to put the answer down? First off, if I had the answer, I wouldn't have written so fucking much on this god damn thing. Second, If I had the answer, I'd sell that fucker because it'd bigger than fucking Oprah. I guess all I really can do is keep recklessly trusting. Keep recklessly expecting the best part of a person to come out of them when it needs to be there. But more importantly, keep recklessly loving. Sure, you're going to get your dick knocked in the dirt, but you don't know any better, do you? Oh, you miserable little fuck: Keep. Fucking. Moving.

Dedicated to the need to do it

2008-12-31T10:03:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this mostly because I need something to earmark the end of a another year. Holidays were awesome, for what it's worth. I mean, I think I can safely say that Christmas didn't feel like Christmas. But I swear to God I did my best to make the best of it, which says a lot. Things are still really sketchy with the group of friends, apparently. Honest to God truth, we can work it all out, it's just going to need time. Time = laughter in medicinal purposes, I think. I sound surprisingly hopeful, I know. I'm just trying to get some momentum going before the New Year rolls in. Feelin' Fine in 09 is what I think it ought to be. But for now, I'll settle with Draggin' the Line in 09. Let's face it, that's how its going to be. But that's okay. It's nice to have goals to work toward. And the guy who wrote the song seemed pretty happy.

Anyway, here's to 08. 08 WAS supposed to be no hate in 08, but sadly that did not come to pass. 08 was chalk full of its own crappy moments, big and small, tucked away at each corner. Hopefully, in the process of Draggin' the Line in 09, we can see to it that, while it probably will come with a lot of shit, we come out of the other side of it all generally unscathed.

Exploration of a regular process

2008-12-17T05:59:00.000-08:00

Like the bowing of the surface of water. First thing that's noticed, the nose crinkles. Eyes widen in the vain hope that extra air will dry some up. It starts from the corners; everything comes together at the very tip, an oddly comforting thought, like a mass of people coming together to stem a tragedy. A warm sensation where I suppose the eyes and the nose meet... Then, a slight frown, a sort of ready-set-go movement, when there's no room left. The firsts innocently, casually, create a path upon the surface of the face, for the sake of moving things along. It is warm. It is comforting. It is too late.

Cold wrestles up the courage to ruin what you've got, touching everything. But, as long as it keeps going, it's alright, it mixes in nicely with the rest of an overwhelming but routine set of sensations.

Chest heaves, torso expands with air, a phony sigh, to give the heart more room; it needs all the room it can get. And to properly fuel the blood; its a fairly strenuous process.

Body shakes in a predictable rhythm, doing it's best to keep up with whatever your brain throws at it.

Its all a science, really. Scratch that. Its proof that science and God do in fact coexist, which is good. I'm too fond of both to let either of them go.

Pretty much

2008-12-15T22:54:00.001-08:00

Interesting to a fault.

2008-12-14T22:26:00.000-08:00

I'm one of those people who desperately wants to believe that they can quite easily hide how they feel even though they know they're just kidding themselves. I hate how easy it is to read me (says the dude on his blog set to public). No, in all seriousness, when you're around me, and something has happened or is happening, or will happen, if a person knows me well enough (which isn't very hard either, I think) they can take one look at me and know exactly what I'm thinking. I wish I could soundly argue that this may be a good thing. I mean, it's a lot like being a dog. Tail's wagging? I'm happy. Not wagging? Not so much. It could also be argued that it's a good thing as long as I've got a pretty god damn good moral compass. Take one look at me during any given situation where you aren't sure what is right or wrong, and you can make good decisions based solely upon how I look/react. As it is, however, I fulfill none of these criteria. I like my moral compass, works just fine... for me. I guess you might say I function like a dog, but only if dogs' tails displayed more emotions than just happy or sad. What I'm REALLY trying to say here is that I wish I wasn't so easy to read because I can show some emotions that are pretty contrary to what I would wish. What I mean there is, Vader was right when he said "emotions betray you." Let's get a for example up in dis piece, yo. Let's say you have a friend who makes this decision that you hate for purely selfish reasons, but you love this friend ("on many different levels"), and you've sworn to yourself on many different occasions that if this friend were happy, you would be too... no matter what. And let's say your initial, immediate response was very much contrary, hell, let's say it still is. What do you do then? I prefer the "looks like this guy is fucked" so run and hide tactic, myself, but as it turns out, it's only a matter of time till things catch up with you. It hasn't yet, at least not in anyway that matters to anyone.

Point being...

I wish I wasn't so easy to read. For one, I'd stand to do a lot better when it comes to games like poker, or chess maybe. In such a clearly hypothetical situation such as the one I had just posed, I could easily lie to make things fit, to make it okay. But, as it so shamefully turns out, even if I were able to lie, I'm not sure if I would. I mean, you know, if I were in that hypothetical position. If I were in such a hypothetical dilemma, I would say "I want to be supportive, I do, but I can't. Not yet. Maybe I've been fooling myself into thinking that I ever could be, but I can't. I can't and everyone in the world seems to realize why except for you." That's how I'd do it, yep. Anyway, I need sleep, as usual. My mind grapes are thoroughly squeezed. Good night dear interwebs.

I would like to need the eggs.

2008-12-10T22:31:00.000-08:00

...big fan of 'em.

“A guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, “Doc, my brother’s crazy, he thinks he’s a chicken.” The doctor says, “Well, why don’t you turn him in?” The guy says, “I would, but I need the eggs.” Well, I guess that’s pretty much now how I feel about relationships; they’re totally irrational, and crazy, and absurd, but I guess we keep goin’ through it because most of us… need the eggs. “
- Alvy Singer in Annie Hall

I want sleep.

2008-12-08T08:31:00.000-08:00

I can't sleep. I couldn't sleep. I don't know why. I don't know how. I just want sleep. It used to not be a problem for me, but it so is now. I need sleep.

And yet...

I'm here, again. Trying to write out ideas in hopes that it will unclutter my brain. Same shit, different day. Christmas is coming up. I've yet to buy a single present.

*** SPOILER ALERT *** (READ NO FURTHER IF YOU ARE NOT CURRENTLY UP TO DATE WITH HEROES)

czennae (8:35:03 AM): WHY THE FUCK DID SYLAR KILL ELLE
SomeGuy8714 (8:35:14 AM): wait... you JUST saw that?
czennae (8:35:18 AM): no but
czennae (8:35:20 AM): it just came to me
SomeGuy8714 (8:35:22 AM): hahahahaha
SomeGuy8714 (8:35:31 AM): CAUSE HES A VILLAIN!
czennae (8:35:35 AM): IT WAS TOTALLY UNNECESSARY HE ALREADY HAD HER POWER
SomeGuy8714 (8:35:35 AM): thats pretty much the only reason

Fits nicely with what's going on in my head right now. I'm just going through the motions man, just going through the motions. Do I want this? Have I ever? maybe. Maybe I did at one point, but I could so do without it now. Uh oh, I can feel myself becoming undone again. Sleep used to be the main thread with which to keep it all together, but I'm feeling it all come apart. I need the sleep. I need the reboot. I need it so I can keep showing you the motions. I need to go through the motions, to feel as though I can, to feel as though anyone can, to feel like it's not just going through the motions but an actuality, I need to feel that maybe one day, if I go through the motions enough, they will become real.

I need to want sleep. I need for it to all unravel slower.

The wrong side of now.

2008-12-01T14:12:00.000-08:00

I feel like I've been living on every wrong side of now. Let me explain. When it comes down to it, timing is everything. Timing dictates every moment: the here, the now, the later. When it comes down to it, every decision, every change in any kind of direction both physically and metaphysically, all give everything they've got to timing. When will you. When won't you. When is the answer yes. When is it no. Is it now? is it ever? When I sit here and tell you that it feels as though I've been living on the wrong side of now, I mean to tell you that I've been making good decisions that time works extra hard to make look bad. Ha, when I put it that way, it makes it look as though it none if it is my fault. Fault lies in my lack of ability to recognize proper timing. My lack of ability to see windows of time to make the right decision. My straight up lack of guts to execute proper timing whenever I get the chance. I realize that the real world has no set rules for anything and that time management is no exception. But there are correlatives. "If you want something then, you have to be here now"<---- that sort of thing. The thing is, I've wanted the same thing for almost more than half my life. I'll never really know if I had windows of time open for it, but, by sheer probability, there had to be at least one or two (or at least that's what I have to believe).

I hate making posts about time. It honestly just makes me feel like there isn't enough of it to go around. The thing is, it's not enough when you don't have your timing down. Me, I'll probably be waiting for the right times for everything I'll ever want in my life and I could bet you I'll miss them time and again. Come, sit with me while I watch time trickle away like sand in some perverse life-shaped hourglass. Oh well. It either works the way I had just explained it, or I may have just liked the title of this entry enough to want to elaborate.

"I suppose I can write something about it."

My dog died

2008-11-17T09:44:00.000-08:00

Today, not even an hour ago actually. Kidney failure, then she lapsed in to a coma. I spent the last hour and a half criss-crossing through the stages of grief. Anger was the first to hit. Maybe the anger I felt was a type of denial. There was never any bargaining really. She was going to die, and there wasn't a deal in the world that could've changed that. No, most of the time it was either denial, anger, or depression. Is acceptance supposed to come when you sign the release to kill her? Or is it supposed to come when you sign the release to have her cremated? What really pisses me off, besides everything and everybody, is that we didn't have enough money to do anything short of having her cremated. Couldn't even afford to have her cremated remains sent back to us. God knows Kiki is going to find her way in to a hefty bag by the end of today. Anyway, none of it really matters, does it? It's not like it was a human being that had just passed. It was a dog. The thing is, this dog meant more to me than most of the people I have known or met. She was family. Right now, my mind is bombarding itself with chemicals that tell me to be sad, angry, and to deny the reasons why I might be sad, or angry. I'm angry at everything, sad about everything, and I'm trying so hard to not feel any of it. I think I'm going to get some sleep.

To: Ebb, From: Flow

2008-11-07T02:09:00.000-08:00

Hello friend. I wont pretend to say I know you very well because, growing up with you, there was always something missing. After a while, I could tell how much of yourself you kept guarded away for whatever reason. But from what I do know about you, or what I think I know about you, you are amazing. Aside from being, hands down, the most awesome person in the world to me, you are one of the most strong willed people I know, which, in your case, is more bad than good, depending on who you ask of course. You are strong willed for the sake of everyone you love. You take very little for yourself and you give most of yourself to everyone else. I want so badly to tell you that you need to be okay with taking... that taking is a natural barrier for the flood gate of giving you so recklessly leave open. But, as it turns out, I think you're figuring this out on your own. Of course you're imploding, all you've been doing is hollowing yourself out for other people. But this is a good thing. Everyone needs to be able to collapse in upon themselves. Destruction of builds that do not work is essential to creating ones that do. Implosion implies a focus point, a center. If you need to implode to find that center to focus on that focal point, do it. And hopefully this time you wont need to rebuild too much of yourself somewhere down the line.

To you, my friend. I hope with every bit of my being that this time will be different for you, no matter what you end up doing. And, even though I truly only know probably about 30 percent of exactly who you are, that 30 percent means so much to me. I hope that whatever you do, you know that I'd kill to keep that 30 percent happy. Serious, I'd club a baby for it. I also hope that, being the narcissistic bastard I am, you can take from this post and whatever future conversation we may have, and welcome it as semi-decent advice. Anywho, I'll see you around.

Dream

2008-09-27T02:13:00.000-07:00

Trying and failing at not falling in love

She's probably a crazy ass hipster huh? Who will secretly (or maybe not even) judge me for all the none-hipster things about me and my severe lack of: hoodies, knowledge of all that is completely obscure and "hiding in plain sight" in the world, not knowing the difference between hipsters and scenesters, and how most of my jokes and wit are adopted and adapted from reruns of friends.

But, I suppose a man can dream.

And at that moment... I knew...

2008-09-26T18:38:00.000-07:00

I finished watching The Wonder Years. I swear to God I didn't realize how much a little bitch Kevin was, but man, what a little bitch. Still a great show. Why? Forget the wax nostalgia, the recycled catch phrases, the predictable dialogue/monologues. It is a story about a kid growing up. Now, being the 24 year old that I am, one could argue that if I haven't done a fair share of growing up already, then something is seriously amiss, and I'd agree with them and would then point out how I really haven't done my fair share of growing up.

Billy Pilgrim became unstuck in time.

The truth is, like a friend had just realized (or at least I think he had just realized) I am stuck in the past. I find myself holding on to things that only exist in re-remembered memories. The connections, the lack of distance and space between me and all that was important, the inside jokes, the dreading of every major scholastic milestone, first crushes, the I-remember-whens that would weave them all together, the general fellowships I've tried so hard to become a part of and stay a part of, all are important things of course, but they aren't how I want them so much to be. They have all evolved into something else. Something I had no concept of. Something I still struggle to wrap my mind around. It, like many other things at this moment in life, has matured. The Wonder Years are things to look back upon (hopefully with humility as well as awe) in every facet, in every respect in life. They are not as present as I want them to be simply because it is metaphysically impossible. Like the transformation of light to energy, they have become what should be the foundation of what and who you are now. I thought I was still living those Wonder Years, but they're gone, as nature and God had intended.

Billy Pilgrim became unstuck in time.

Growing up (or at least the hesitation and uncertainty inherently involved) seems to be the popular theme amongst me and mine the past couple of months. The pain, the hardships shouldered, the confusion, the metamorphosis of our childhood to the rest of our lives all are things that we all must endure at one point in our lives. They are fears that require acknowledgment, acceptance; tides that we have to swim against. The only problem is, as I'm sure some of you could relate with, I was never much of a swimmer.

Can't wait for the rain

2008-09-21T03:42:00.000-07:00

We are born of rain and dark, so far and wee
Watch clouds burst overhead, a kind of gruesome gray
Graining the moonlit image of a man reborn
The shadows may give chase as well they do
The dark passenger riding along in wait
For his turn at the wheel

We are heavy-soaked, laden with the mishaps
Of the yesterdays and todays and tomorrows
and as it stands us far and wee
give way to the boogie men silent slouched approach
footsteps hidden, misheard, mingled with the
wicked-weathered deluge

comfort, crisp smells, soft walk, new world
sloshing in the abyss of jolly streetlight times two
wind-swept hair, cold air chill, leaves us
farandwee
shuddering, gathering in arms for warmth

turning with violent grace
wee
dance out rhythms only our shadows knew
with the purest streetlight white we
watch our shadows ripple, how they stretch so
far
and
wee

are born of

rain and

dark

Pretty much

2008-09-14T17:12:00.000-07:00

"I've looked at life from both sides now,
From win and lose, and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall.
I really don't know life at all."

It's nice and cold out.

2008-09-09T04:18:00.000-07:00

So I decided to write something. This post goes out to the many who lack the ability to be asleep at this very hour.

Point being I can't sleep, so I'm going to blog it up instead.

I was looking over a few of my high school yearbooks only to remember that I never bought a yearbook for my favorite year out of high school. Sophomore year (and, consequently, the events leading up to it: Freshman summer)... Had the best friend, had the uncrushable crush, and, later on, had the significant other (and wouldn't you know, it truly was significant). That year, 1999, one of the most amazing years of my still very short life, and no yearbook for it. I settled reading stuff from my freshman and then junior yearbook. While reading all the short messages scribbled by people, I came to realize how terribly self-important and, consequently, self-absorbed I was. I thought I was cooler than I actually was, smarter, funnier, everything. Bummed me the hell out to be quite truthful. Lots of "have a nice summmer"s and "never change" type shit. None of that mattered really. The ones that mattered were the ones that... wait a sec... they didn't put too much either. One particular entry by one of the most important people in my life to this date had far too many sentences that had the phrase "hate you" or the word "shitty" in them. It was after having read that that I finally realized that my self-image is some sick and cruel joke.

Let's back up.

I'd like to think I'm like most people my age, or at least like the people I surround myself with: Has some pretty harsh self-worth issues whilst thinking themselves the coolest thing since sliced fucking bread. Yes, yes, chicken and the egg, conundrum, oxymoron even, blah blah blah. But if everyone stopped and tried to pay attention to their own thoughts, a lot of judgment is thrown around. A lot of measuring of ones own qualities is done to better place themselves at a level in which "I'm right, they're wrong": a thought process as basic as counting to 10.

This basic ability is meant to categorize people, places, situations, and the circumstances surrounding those people, places, and situations. It's human nature to categorize, to make the round pegs fit in round holes, the square in theirs. Without that ability, we'd be pretty damned aimless. Call it self-preservation, list it as one of our survival tools.

Anyway, let's focus it up again (since I feel like I'm going on a tangent). Yes. I am not nearly as important as I thought I was. Not to myself, we all know how I feel about myself (fucking awesome... incoming paradoxical theory). But to other people. The problem is all the smoke being blown up my ass. I'm not great, I don't have some hidden potential, nor am I funny, or smart. I'm not much of a friend, a brother, a son, a human being. But I need to believe it, which I will, and I'll incorporate it into the measuring of my own qualities, which I have (which lead me to believe that I am, in fact, the greatest thing since sliced fucking bread). We need recognition from one source or another. We need to feel some sort of importance. I've had a lot of other evidence of the smoke blowing, but I continually choose to ignore it. Why? Cause the reality of it is just too damned real. The reality of it is that people are people. The reality of it is that people ARE just like me. People need smoke blown up their asses: to get them moving, to get them staring ahead at some goal or another instead of getting stuck with THE truth. Don't get me wrong, the exceptional few do exist, but they are just that, "except"ional. They are a kind that are few and far between and will eventually (god I hope not, they serve as a goal. See last sentence...) get sucked in with the rest of us poor/amazing bastards.

Billy,

Have a great summer, you degenerate, self-loathing, narcissistic, wonderful human being. Stay the same you kind and considerate little prick.

with love,
Everyone you'll ever meet.

Rooms

2008-08-10T23:07:00.000-07:00

"It's what life is, it's a series of rooms. And who we get stuck in those rooms with adds up to what our lives are." Wax poetic, sure, but that's me. That's what appeals to me.

What's important is what is communicated or what is supposed to have been communicated. Going off of this idea, you can retrace all of the rooms you've been in and the people you've gotten stuck with in these rooms. Growing up, I was largely stuck in a room with my family. Sometimes on a literal sense, but mostly just the concept. At this time of my life, I spend my days neatly stuck in rooms with my family, yes, but largely alone. It has it's comforts. I can listen to whatever I want, watch, play, read, generally do whatever I want without worrying someone or hurting someone, without having to acknowledge the possible beautiful universe next door. The downsides are always there though. They're waiting for the moments when you are at your weakest: the space between a track change, the fade out between scenes in a movie, loading screens, the spaces between sentences and paragraphs, chapters and plot holes. Anxiety gripping you, setting your mind ablaze... then sadness. People say when you're sad enough, you go numb. I don't personally know how true it is, I just hope it will never become a goal.

At this moment, I am stuck in a room with myself. There is no beautiful universe next door, just a wasteland.

Pretty much

2008-07-01T00:14:00.000-07:00

I forget where I heard it from but...

2008-06-24T21:18:00.000-07:00

... they say when you really love someone, even on a platonic level, you see them everywhere. I saw you three times today.

Listen:

2008-06-11T22:34:00.001-07:00

It went like this:

A man lay in a bathroom tub. He was sleeping. Cuts from his veins sucked up blood from an inwardly retreating pool. The man woke up and began to close these veins with the edge of a razor. As blood flowed, sucked up by his veins, he traced the cuts on his wrists with the razor, closing them, leaving a blue line where blood was pumping. The cuts closed off completely and the man got up. He opened the medicine cabinet in his bathroom and placed the razor in there. He closed the cabinet and buried his face in his hands. His body shook as his hands gave way to, then, minutes later, soaked up tears. He looked into the mirror. He saw pain at first, but then he started to smile. He shut the bathroom light, opened the door behind him and made his way to his bedroom door. He opened his bedroom door, shut it behind him, and locked it. He staggered to the edge of his bed turned and stood their for a moment. He laid down and went to sleep. He dreamed he flew up, up, up to the top of a building. He landed on the edge of the roof of the building and looked down. His eyes sucked tears from the place from which he had started his flight. He stretched his hand out in front of him as this happened. He looked at it for awhile, it startled him: they were still, sure. He made his way to the entrance of the roof. It opened from behind him and accepted him. He walked in, grabbed the handle and closed it shut. He then marched down 15 flights of stairs to another door which openly accepted him as well. He shuffled to a couch, sat down and picked up a book next to him. He sat there with the book in his hands for a little while. It was a small book, the kind of book made for children. He opened the book and grinned sweetly at what he saw: it was as though he had found proof of god. Tears dropped onto the page and magnified what had been written. There, in the middle of the page, in big, bold, italicized letters, he had found the answer to every possible question about death.

It went like this:

"Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt."

Am I okay?

2008-05-04T03:53:00.002-07:00

I'm asked the question a lot more than I care to mention. It's sweet. It shows concern. It shows care. It shows that someone took time out of their lives to inquire about your general state of being. A lot of people don't ask that. A lot of people don't have other people asking them that. The problem is, when is it genuine? I mean truly genuine. When is it? I am ashamed to admit that, sometimes, when I ask people if they're "okay," I hope they say yes, but for the wrong reasons. If they say no, I'll feel obligated to help out in whatever way I can, something I like to pretend I like to do. Well, I do like it sometimes, it gives me a sense of purpose. But for the most part, the former is usually the case. Is it karma then? You, out there, you ask me if I am "okay" when it's pretty much common knowledge that I am not. I'm not, and I haven't been. But I'll try to fake a smile for you. I'll try to blame it on lack of sleep, or "yeah, I just have a killer headache."A part of me wants to tell you I am not "okay," that I haven't been for a long while despite it being obvious or common knowledge, but I'm terrified. You see, that leaves me with the thought that, like me, you would rather I say I was so you wouldn't feel any sort of obligation. Deeper than that, I'm terrified you'll fade away with the rest. Right now, the best I can tell you is that I am "my kind" of "okay." I am still here. Still breathing. Still hoping that just being around will be enough (even though everything around me is writing itself out to show that it's not enough). I don't know. I don't know. I'm pretty sleepy... I've got this killer headache... I'll catch up later.

is it?

2008-05-04T03:18:00.000-07:00

"Why did he kill himself, Daddy?"

"I don't know, Nick. He couldn't stand things, I guess."

"Do many men kill themselves, Daddy?"

"Not very many, Nick."

"Do many women?"

"Hardly ever."

"Don't they ever?"

"Oh, yes. They do sometimes."

"Daddy?"

"Yes."

"Is dying hard, Daddy?"

"No, I think it's pretty easy, Nick. It all depends." - Hemingway "Indian Camp"

and again

2008-03-17T05:08:00.001-07:00

With yet another paper to write
should i have started the former night?
dear god, bless my mind with the gift of flight
even the coffee cant startle me to wake
my fingers are thoughts only moving for grades sake

reading my blog, more blogs, a blog...
would i ever remove webs from the cog?
dear god, bless my soul with stillness of a log
even now my mind is a muddle
someone help me out of this glorious hovel

5:16, hurry now, dont be late
could i start now and expect to be great?
dear god, bless my heart with a better fate
than this unilluminating process of thought
cold swirl of a coffee chasing ideas, but never caught

5:21, and nothing written still
could this third cup of coffee be making me ill?
dear god, bless my stomach if you will
that cold coffee fails to give me the lift
thoughts waning, fading, floating adrift

5:28, i swear this will be the last one
should i start now and hope to be done?
dear god, bless the clocks, turn it back some
i knew i shouldve started the former night
so god, how're we doing with that gift of flight?

It Would Seem...

2008-03-08T14:26:00.000-08:00

caress softly the wind through the trees
watch the earth shake the dead
in oranged, yellowed, reddened days
speak soft the time it takes
for the first drop of rain to land
cold hints you sleeping green
life waiting for seasonal dawn

pull twist the metal
wrapped tightly cradling its trusted sleepers
are you sleeping?
are you sleeping?
you, even a child would find childish

fair purpose in your now closed eyes
closed mouth, closed life, closed coffin
a perfect preservation: hermetically sealed
mud. brown
blood. red
you will now always be young

and yet...

the sunlight still stays, stays still
a gentle reminder of what will come
over and again
and for a moment
the dead find warmth
as they sleep, seep through Feigned permanence

Creation Myth(os)

2008-02-25T18:13:00.000-08:00

BANG!!

Starlight shimmer-shines signals
Of a universal dawn
The otherworldly made possible through
A sophistication
The manipulation of
The cosmic

On some lone star
Somewhere between
the wasteland and the sky
I’ll find you
A singular spec from the sum of
all or most things
to catch sight of your
face
disintegrating beneath
caustic-lunar light

oh god… I find that
your gaze is a leer
With a grip that could choke the light
From an unborn sun
do you see why
some wish to worship
while
I worship none?

Dear Cousin,

2008-01-12T02:10:00.000-08:00

It's not true what they say, about being dead and all. You didn't look like you were sleeping, you looked fake. You looked like you were made of wax. You might've looked different had I braved a closer look into your casket, but from where I was standing, in the very back of the room, you looked like you were made of wax. Your dad was holding your hand. He was holding your hand, I was holding our grandma, and your mother was holding herself. You must've felt cold to the touch, Chris. There was more sound than I anticipated. More smiles, more people eating, more people dressed like they were going to the mall instead of going to see someone they'd never see again. I couldn't understand. That's when everything got blurry for me. I was angry. I couldn't understand, it just didn't make any sense. I was angry at them, at me. We hung out a lot when we were kids, do you remember? We have a video recording of you dancing with my sister when you guys were four, do you remember dancing, Chris? I look at the video they made for you for this. You looked happy. You were surrounded by friends. You would've never guessed that we were watching pictures of someone who had just passed away. You would've thought that this was some sort of odd display: an exact wax replica of you laying in a coffin with a video playing in the background streaming pictures of you with all of your friends and family, smiling brightly like all kids ought to. Grandma says you were asking about us not even days ago, I told her we were asking about you too. I lied. I'm sorry. Truth is, had you have tried to meet up with us, I would've sighed and asked if I really had to go. Now that you're gone, all I'm thinking about is how much we used to have. You were so young, Chris. You had so much life in you, life enough to spread across more than a few decades... I cannot wrap my head around it. You were just way too young...

Pressure

2007-12-18T08:50:00.000-08:00

Break the world upon
My back into halves
And quarters
Split it asunder
As you would my mind
In turn
Will never turn

Fear
I fear
A bigger shape than
The sun
Blots out the light
Of some former golden-eye
In a glimmer of eternal torment

Warmth
In degress
Beads around the corona of my head
A head bent down in double
Folded in my hands
In the mourning
Of me

High Rotation

2007-12-14T22:49:00.000-08:00

Your song I know by heart and ear
a groove, a crack, exists, played on by point
I see you’ve come again to snap with sheer
delight to find you’ve shook me joint, to joint.
Your mind, you speak a tune that plays these days
a sound, a song I’ve danced locked in throughout,
a song you’ve played to get me “through this phase”
a common phrase, a measure played in shouts.
Could you not feel the groove in which you played?
Could we have lost the beat so early on?
Should we continue through the track you’ve made?
Did you expect this me to sing along?
I lay in bed, the track has skipped to stop
got up to place the needle point on top.

Science-Fiction Diction

2007-12-12T09:49:00.001-08:00

Science-Fiction Diction

gentle reality
A space in which all can feel free to
Suffer, save you
Save you
From the tail end embers
Of a burnt-bright comet
that singe and sear the very edge of
the fabric of space-time

in this space
a place hung low beneath the stars
Pressed between now and the
coming of the dawn
we wait for rescue
this time
all we ask
is time relative?

Light speed you
God speed you
Away... away... away...
When I, across some continuum,
I find the final frontier
is none other than
space that occupies
the distance between us

The past isn't through

2007-11-23T09:17:00.001-08:00

Memories are tricky. I think I've written a post about it a while ago, but I guess it's something I need to revisit. They are so god damn tricky and I honest to god truth can't wrap my head around the concept. Was it all me just remembering things differently? I swear on my life that it happened the way I remembered it. The late phone calls, the movies, the T.V shows, the inside jokes, the laughs, oh wow the laughs, they were never too few or far between for us; even now I sit back and watch them play back to me like it were yesterday. Was it all just some sort of one huge crazy misunderstanding? Was/is my memory playing tricks on me? Have I twisted them somehow to make them make me feel like I was worth more than I really was? I held/hold onto those memories for so long, this just might be the case. It may have been rewritten several times throughout the years without me even realizing it. Is this the case?

At this moment, at this very moment, I want to cycle back through everything to ask that question... "Have I been fooling myself?" I find that is something I cannot do. My memories seem to be faulty records of past events in my life that I championed over everything else. Ha, and so many remember whens, or remember that one times, or even just looks, so many of them are being stripped away from me through a twisted sense of logic and a long learned self-preservation skill set I have forced myself to develop. I think what bums me out the most is that I remember everything you talk about. I was there. I remember all of it. I was there. I was there. I was there. For this, for that, I was there. I was there and I swear to god I remember it differently. I remember it differently and everyone else involved probably remembers it with their own distinctive quirks to the story. Bias? Blind? Blind from being bias? All so very likely now. I've never even considered it. It's almost comical in it's own way. Was that naivety? I don't know. I couldn't tell you. I'm still reeling. All I know is that something that I could safely say was some of the best years of my life are... being revisited with a critical eye and a bit of a shaken sense of self.

If you cut me, do I not bleed?

2007-08-09T16:23:00.000-07:00

I was at the salon yesterday waiting for the barber to finish up with my dad. I was reading a magazine, I forget which one it was... Anyway, i stumbled across this article about a guy who has this condition that causes him to not feel pain. He'd get cut, he'd stub a toe, and he'd feel nothing. I always think about how cool it'd be if you could feel nothing. After all, the fear of pain is one of the bigger fears a bunch of people have. At the end of the article, however, started talking about the downsides of such a condition. You get cut, you wont know you're cut till someone points the blood out to you. You break a bone, you'll have no idea that you did until your body starts to shut down to handle the shock to the nervous system. Pain... it sucks, but it's necessary.

Just Need to Say Something

2007-08-03T17:54:00.000-07:00

I just feel like I need to write something down, you ever get that feeling? My head is literally pounding right now cause it's so full of thoughts. I swear it feels like its going to come apart at any second. I've also got this killer tooth-ache beating the shit out of my jaw. I'm pretty sure it's my wisdom teeth. Talk, let's talk. I just woke up from a nap a couple of minutes ago and I had a dream. It was one of those loaded ones where you can catch meaning if you turn it around in your head enough. It was about how many different houses my family has had and how we never seem to manage to hold onto any of our old things each time we move. If you look at my room right now, it looks like a room that could be all packed up and ready to go move to another house in an hour or so. Seriously. It's like an apartment room just waiting for someone to put an identity into it. Anyway, in this dream, we were moving again and we were leaving behind a bunch of things. I'd describe it in detail, but even now the details are leaving me. All I can remember is how it made me feel. I felt nothing. That feeling is what I'm thinking about right now. My family has an odd habit, I guess it's a habit only an american family can have. We throw things at our problems. New things. Brand new things. Look at this stuff, we say, look at this brand new stuff. This brand new DVD player seems heavy enough to throw at and crush the problem I'm having with my dad. Oh, this couch seems large enough to cover that stain/sin. Brand new wide-screen flat pannel plasma screen television! Maybe if we turn it up enough, we can drown some stuff out! I'm tired of this house full of bitter resentment, cold, thick walls, high cielings that is about to burst open with the unsaid, let's buy a new one. This one has a pool, with a huge backyard and patio, it's an absolutely perfect place to sit to turn our backs on this crumbling excuse for a family. It gets really interesting when we run out of money.

Counting Down The Hours

2007-07-31T20:50:00.000-07:00

Time is a tricky thing. I remeber reading an article somewhere about how the existence of time is under debate. I can't remember anything past just that: It's under debate. I'm sitting here wishing that I could remember what the article had to say because im wondering what, about the existence of time, could possibly under debate? You can call it by any other name, but time is time. It's what we measure life by. Anyway, I have a complaint about time. It is relentless. I feel like I'm in one of those dreams where you're being chased and you don't really know whats chasing you. What really gets me though is that I wouldn't feel this way if I were left to my own devices. Nowadays you've got the world rushing by and everyone going with it's flow. I'm okay with going with the flow of things, I swear I am. It's just all easier said than done. People all work differently, there is no one way to do things. Am I saying that because I truly believe it, or because I'm trying to make myself feel better? Dare I say both?

Quoted for the truth

2007-07-10T22:18:00.000-07:00

"We are like sculptors, constantly carving out of others the image we long for, need, love or desire, often against reality, against their benefit, and always, in the end, a disappointment, because it does not fit them." - Anais Nin

Memory

2007-07-07T10:08:00.000-07:00

I had recently read in one of those scientific periodicals that memory doesn't work exactly how we initially may have thought it does. Okay, first, let's mention some "common knowledge" about memory. There is the long term, and there is the short term. Short term memory works exactly the way it sounds, most of the memories you gain during a regular day can be considered short term memories. During sleep, short term memories (or at least the ones that are still lingering around in your head) are turned into long term memories. The article I read suggests that scientists are finding evidence (inconclusive as of yet) that this isn't how memory works. When we remember something from a while ago common belief is that we're tapping into long term memory and recalling it. The study I read about suggests that the way that recalling process works isn't really us tapping into long term memory but rather tapping into something that we remember but it's not neccessarily the intial memory, but rather one that has been recalled a bunch of times and has changed each time. They compared it to making copies of a copy. Memory is tricky, to say the very least. With all of this said, I'm not sure if I believe the research, but how trippy would that be? I recall memories all the time. So much to the point where a person could argue that I need to stop living in the past. Imagine if the memories I recall all the live long day aren't the experiences that I believe them to be. That would suck on so many different levels.

All in one basket...

2007-06-09T00:56:00.000-07:00

Someone very dear to me once told me that I tend to put all of my eggs in one basket. Now, I realize that most people would opt to view all of the down sides of this, but I choose to look at the upside. Now, lets side track to go forward. I told this person that I felt obligated to her. She is a very dear friend of mine, you see. And all at once she says "Well... that sucks, I don't want you to feel any sort of obligation towards me." I can understand her view point. Where obligations lie, responsibilities follow suit. In an average, busy, hectic life, who would want obligations let alone extra ones? I do. Not when it comes to education, money, jobs, etc.. But when it comes to people I feel close enough to? People I can be absolutely vulnerable around? I'm all in. In for a penny, in for a pound, so to speak. I don't see it in a negative light, I see it as an invaluable gift. I see it as a constant reminder that I can love something more than I love myself, a quality the modern day common person more often than not lacks. So... do I indeed put all of my eggs in one basket? I'd like to believe I spread them out evenly amongst the people that matter most to me. All that I ask for in return is that you never forget it.

Justification for living your life, exactly how you want, and as much as you please.

2007-03-30T10:56:00.000-07:00

This second, this minute, this hour, this day, this period of time we put periods on each end of, it is defined only by us. Only our perceptions, our views, our hopes and fears can bend and mend what we need or want it to. Surround yourself with this thought, this feat of fleeting moments. It belongs to you, and you alone. So? So make it worth its weight in gold. Live it till dust covers it. Because this second, this minute, this hour, this day, this period of time we put periods on each end of is ours to shape, it is ours to want to become miserable, or sad, lonely... or... happy.

life and splendid dime novels

2007-03-20T21:32:00.001-07:00

Comfort

Next time, hug me around
the neck
so that I can bury my head into
your shoulders, your hair because
I cannot bear to look.
the world is spinning too fast
the life all around me vibrates and
resonates at a blur
bringing tears to red strained eyes
let me forget that tomorrow is coming
because, when the moon loses its place
when the sun bleeds across the sky
this will be over

So,
next time, hug me around
the neck
let me forget that a reality that should exist
exists for someone else
so that I can bury myself into
You.

9:10, I should be getting to class.

2007-03-13T08:54:00.000-07:00

God bless the spell check era. God bless the fact that we can pull up a writing instrument and spew our thoughts onto it and expect the errors to be underlined red or green. God bless the fact that we're going to be walking around dodging words and grammatical challenges (to ourselves, at the very least) to fit outside of this writing instrument because the Word has erased or severely compromised the need for literacy. YAY! Today, I forgot how to spell conclusion... CONFREAKINGCLUSION! So once again, I thank you, word, for robbing us of integrity...

Oh hey... you can turn it off...

...

Okay, well that works, too.

But why would anyone choose to do that? It'd be like taking a walking stick from a blind person.

And still...

2007-02-04T19:07:00.000-08:00

And still they play. They know no time, nor do they experience moments the way the rest of us do. Instances where each moment is a moment they find that they can live in; moments meant only for the very few, and the very humble. And, with childlike curiousity and awe, we stand in the distance waiting for a guide to the places that defy the constant tick of time. Seemingly unreachable to us, we settle. We settle into our hustle, our bustle, our fleeting lives only to look back in the end and wish that things were different. Settle, all the time wishing that we had what it took to be one of the very few, and the very humble.

But,
I promise never to settle.

Let's Try to Not Make Much of This

2007-01-30T22:48:00.002-08:00

"So it goes..." - Kurt Vonnegut: Slaughter House-Five

Loved the book, and this line of course was one of the more memorable ones. So it goes... In the face of some things, all there is left to do is accept. So it goes... So it goes, and it does. It does endlessly, without fail. Sometimes all there is left to do is be careful not to trip on the way to the rest of our lives. When do we fight? Give, take, love, hate, push, pull. When do we fight?

You fight when it's worth fighting for, just make sure that it is.

And so it goes.

Dear Mr. Vonnegut

I wish I could write a Tralfamadorian novel. Cause in some cases, everything is beautiful when everything hits at once.

Cold Cup of Joe

2007-01-24T06:04:00.000-08:00

Its 6 in the morning and I'm choaking down a cup of cold Foldger's coffee (I think I may have burnt it.... yucky...) in hopes that it'll keep me up long enough to write an essay I should've written a week ago. Anyway, I've decided to write in this instead of making more progress with my paper. Perfection.

I like to tell people I'm a realist. When people see how cynical I can be, they think that I'm not a realist at all. But I swear to you I am; it's not my fault the world is the way it is. But, negativity will get me no where. In fact, it's the quickest route to disatisfaction. It took me a 45 minute session with a cheesy video my dad made us sit down and watch to realize this. A concept so simple that we overlook it come time to apply it to our everyday lives. My new year's resolution was to not have any regrets, and I think this serves in that vein. Being openly negative opens us up to a deluge of negative things. We attract what we think. If our day to day thoughts are predominantly negative, than expect negative situations to kick your ass all day. In that sense, I'd like to think that I'll realize that I'd regret thinking negatively about everything. Remedy? Monitor my actions, and my thought's and make sure there isn't a single shred of negativity in them. A daunting task, I know, but hey, you can't say that I don't have goals, heh. Wow, this post is very hippy-like in tone (peace and love, man!). OKAY! Time to do an awesome job on this paper. Peace out homies.

Something's amiss

2007-01-21T21:21:00.000-08:00

What happens is this; we get busy pursuing something that needs pursuing in our lives be it a career, education, love, friendships, or family, that we sometimes forget about something else that needs pursuing or needs some sort of acknowledgment. We have to do this so that we don't stretch ourselves thin, this is where priorities are set or are in need of setting. At least that's what I keep telling myself. Prioritizing sucks, but it's a must. I guess what I mean to say in this post is this; I miss being a priority (family excluded, of course). Heh, I promised myself that I wouldn't make posts like these, not on here at least. Anyway, here's to the end of the third week of the brand new year.

Time and Time Again

2007-01-14T09:17:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the world doesn't spin the way you want it to.

The New Year

2007-01-13T09:06:00.000-08:00

I realize this post is almost two weeks late in coming, but better late then never I always say. The new year, I find, is always something that makes you reflect on the years passed: where we've gone, where we've been, who we are etc. I know that I do this so that I can better adjust myself for the brand new year. The real trouble comes when you know your mistakes, but you don't feel like you have to change them. Which is to say they're mistakes in the eyes of the people surrounding you, but you swear it makes sense to you in some unknowable way. Or it makes sense enough for you to not want to change. I'm not even talking about a job, or my education, those are things that I worry about only as much as the next twenty-something. I'm talking about more important things... But, and there are always buts when it comes to these things, what if the mob is right? Right to even your own standards of being right? I don't want to wake up ten years from now and see that I'm in the same spot as I was when I fell asleep ten years ago. You're in real trouble if you find that you're being dillusional and headstrong about it to boot. I'm rambling now, I can feel it. With all of that jumble of thought typed out somewhere, maybe it wont bother me so much. Anyway, here's to the new year; I hope it's everything we plan to shape it to be.

Christmas

2006-12-26T11:53:00.000-08:00

This Christmas was.... the same as the last 10 Christmases I've had: fleeting, and un-Christmassy. I just don't feel it anymore. I keep telling myself that it might be because im getting older, but I feel like that that might not be it. Even now, I can't quite figure out why it hasn't been Christmas for this long. But, I'll say this about Christmas; it's a great reminder about how great people can be if they gave it an effort.

The little things.

2006-11-22T22:20:00.000-08:00

I love the little things: the seemingly small, questionably insignificant, tiny things. You can be at the end of your rope with so many things and on so many different levels and remember/do/see a small, insignificant, little thing and realize that the end of the rope couldn't be any further down from where you are. It's fitting that I mention this right before Thanksgiving, no? I'm ever so thankful for the little things.

This song...

2006-11-07T16:40:00.000-08:00

I first heard this song on Alice 97.3. I remember thinking at first how eerie and bleak the lyrics were. Anyway, I kept it on. It felt familiar for some reason as if it were telling a story that I've heard or have seen before. Today, I figured out what it was that it reminded me of. About four years ago I hit a bit of a rough spot in my life. It was one of those rough spots you try to forget about or at least tuck away in your head. One night during this time period, I had a dream. I dreamt that I was in the back of car and I didn't know or see who was driving and we were driving in this dark tunnel. I remember being scared outta my wits. Then all of a sudden, I felt a hand grasp mine. I knew who it was before I looked, but I looked anyway. And that's where the dream ended. Anyway, this song reminded me of that dream.

Love of mine
some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark

No blinding light
or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark

If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me
"Son fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back

If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

You and me have seen everything to see
From Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down
The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
Cause we'll hold each other soon
The blackest of rooms

If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Then I'll follow you into the dark

-I Will Follow You Into The Dark by Death Cab For Cutie

Good song, right? Couldn't get it outta my head the other day.

generally

2006-11-01T12:11:00.000-08:00

I avoid blogs. Not for any conventional reason, but just because all I seem to do in blogs is complain about something and I hate people who do nothing but complain. Anyway, this blog will not be used for that purpose... Well... not solely for that purpose, heh. Something Simpler... I had to look up the word "simpler" to make sure it wasn't a word that I, with my two year old wit, made up. It could've been "more simple" or just, "simple" but I gave it a bit of thought and decided that I am already a simple person. This being thus, I decided to throw in the "r" at the end. The rest of the word looked lonely anyway, what without its own "r" keeping it company. Anyway, nap time!

alas, another blog!

2006-10-31T20:46:00.000-08:00

This is my attempt at starting something in which I can get used to capatilizing words on my own (while typing, obviously) and also to put a little something out there where I can feel like it doesn't have to be profound or filled with meaning in any way shape or form, its just gotta be mine. Its gotta be something I can pour thoughts into without the fear of sounding pretentious or ignorant in any way. With that said, hi, my name is Billy, this is my new blog. Welcome to this new blog. I hope you find what you read here mildy interesting from time to time.

THHHHHOOOUUUUGHHHHTTTSS!!

I didn't sleep a wink last night. I was up all night writing papers. Papers that at this very moment seem so trivial that I feel like I shouldn't have written them.

It's Halloween, and all I want to do is sleep.

The first Halloween I chose my costume for, I was a dragon (all of the knight costumes were sold out).

Everything else going through my head is just ramble (which I realize implies that what I've said up till now wasn't) so I'll leave it at that for now.

Good night sweet blog, may we find something simpler to speak of tommorow!