... could this be anima projection?
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Conjecture on the Nature of "Tramp Stamps"
Tonight, I have deduced the subconscious drive which, I suspect, may be responsible for the "tramp stamp" phenomenon.
This fad could be yet another indicator of humanity's passive acceptance of its own inevitable relegation to an analogous fate: to end up as just another faded, artificial blemish on the ass of the universe, shamelessly screaming "look at me" simply because it can – and because that may be all it can do.
This fad could be yet another indicator of humanity's passive acceptance of its own inevitable relegation to an analogous fate: to end up as just another faded, artificial blemish on the ass of the universe, shamelessly screaming "look at me" simply because it can – and because that may be all it can do.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Ruminations on the Wonders of Contrast and the Occasional Profundity of Surprise
Hot, stagnant and rancid-milk thoughts spill ignorantly from their brain-buckets, trespassing in my space, a raging river of raving idiots all tangled in each others' limbs. It's a mental picture even the blind couldn't miss, should they ever happen upon this panoramic horrorscape by some cruelty of fate.
I try not to hate this mob, and I fail - but with enthusiasm. My role, my function, my job is to squeeze every last fetid drop of curd from its little toy actors, then return them with painted-on smiles to their meaningless lives of tedium and superficiality. Even their delusions are uninspired, tainting me as they do with the stench of wasted thought. I would rather die a thousand torturous deaths than live a single one of their lives, and being drowned in the minutiae of their dramas, day after day, year after year, does wonders for provoking such satisfyingly-morbid manifestations of my own dark dreams.
Ahh, if I could press a button and eradicate them all, down to the very last one, I would. I would press it and never release it, filling its sacred socket with my determined digit, satisfying my desires as if those of a lover. If only I had such a button...
— And there, suddenly, a break in this cloud of human flesh: a brilliant beam of life, emitted from the last vestigial reserve of cerebral heaven within my vast hell. The Earth upsets itself beautifully, and I hear it plainly: a sound I'd long forgotten, an idea I'd perhaps only ever imagined...
As if that terrible switch was flipped off somewhere behind the cosmic gate of insanity, my reality reshapes itself, taking once more its place at the helm of my mindship, changing course just slightly - first port, then starboard and finally starward, away from that maw of oblivion which lurks ever-patiently in the shadow of every tomorrow, gnashing its teeth at me hungrily.
And then, suddenly, the curdled folk became not quite so smelly as they once were.
... What button?
Noir Boredom, Part 1
The night air was stagnant and humid, and stuck to my skin like the rancid breath of a drunken god peeking disinterestedly into a long-forgotten terrarium. Hot, acrid raindrops the size and color of blood-shot eyeballs pummeled the ground with such force that I could almost hear the pavement screaming in agony as I drifted through an otherwise silent darkness. I don't know why I was surprised at a sudden realization of my discomfort. There hadn't been peace here for any living thing in many thousands of years - but now, even the inanimate elements themselves seemed to exude a kind of passive, intangible discontent. I felt it watching me, somehow; I imagined it licking its lips.
I heard rather than saw a wave of mud oozing surely down the nearby wall of a collapsed building, and felt a malign presence at work. I wondered if the ground itself might be trying to act upon some ancient survival instinct, driving it to slowly swallow everything whole, press the reset button on even the faintest memories of human life. I guess I couldn't blame it.
As I passed closer to the crumbling ruins of what looked to have once been a bank, I cracked a caustic grin at the now-foreign images that exploded into my head: an immigrant pushing a mower across a thick bed of green grass; automatic sprinkler systems spinning in the hot summer nights to keep the stuff from dying in the absence of poor Johnny Boy's underpaid—and likely completely unappreciated—diligence; posturing, prosperity, pretension practically dripping from every gleaming blade. So much wasted time and energy on such a simple thing as fuckin' grass; it's no wonder our species didn't survive.
At that thought, I couldn't hold back a chuckle. My hollow laughter echoed blandly into the great expanse of the blasted lands I was crossing and soon died, alone, in a distant corner of an endless desert.
I heard rather than saw a wave of mud oozing surely down the nearby wall of a collapsed building, and felt a malign presence at work. I wondered if the ground itself might be trying to act upon some ancient survival instinct, driving it to slowly swallow everything whole, press the reset button on even the faintest memories of human life. I guess I couldn't blame it.
As I passed closer to the crumbling ruins of what looked to have once been a bank, I cracked a caustic grin at the now-foreign images that exploded into my head: an immigrant pushing a mower across a thick bed of green grass; automatic sprinkler systems spinning in the hot summer nights to keep the stuff from dying in the absence of poor Johnny Boy's underpaid—and likely completely unappreciated—diligence; posturing, prosperity, pretension practically dripping from every gleaming blade. So much wasted time and energy on such a simple thing as fuckin' grass; it's no wonder our species didn't survive.
At that thought, I couldn't hold back a chuckle. My hollow laughter echoed blandly into the great expanse of the blasted lands I was crossing and soon died, alone, in a distant corner of an endless desert.
Dribbles of Common Truth-Sauce: August 31, 2012
Jim: Have you heard the news!? Jersey Shore is finally getting cancelled after this season! It might not be making our schools any less-worse (well, not *directly*...), but remember this the next time somebody says that Obama hasn't accomplished anything!
Ale: Hahahaha! Never watched jersey shore.. but I've heard it's terrible!
Jim: And I think saying so makes terrible look bad.
Ale: Hahahaha! Never watched jersey shore.. but I've heard it's terrible!
Jim: And I think saying so makes terrible look bad.
Note to Self: Billiards is the meaning of life... idiot!
Why do I enjoy playing pool?
— Because pool is a perfect analogy for life... sort of!
Every event which takes place is merely a determinable mathematical expression based on a finite number of measurable variables. You might not be able to see them; you might not know they exist; you might not even be able to comprehend that they might - but the pool table, the universe, doesn't care. Your ignorance is just another factor. Even if you choose to blindly shove the cue, you always *could* have known where every ball was going to end up after every shot - and every human being knows this, at least on some level.
I enjoy pool because it reminds me—albeit in a largely tangential fashion—that there is never any reasonable justification for willful ignorance - and that even if I convince myself the game doesn't exist, even if I were to refuse to play... it's still playing me.
— Because pool is a perfect analogy for life... sort of!
Every event which takes place is merely a determinable mathematical expression based on a finite number of measurable variables. You might not be able to see them; you might not know they exist; you might not even be able to comprehend that they might - but the pool table, the universe, doesn't care. Your ignorance is just another factor. Even if you choose to blindly shove the cue, you always *could* have known where every ball was going to end up after every shot - and every human being knows this, at least on some level.
I enjoy pool because it reminds me—albeit in a largely tangential fashion—that there is never any reasonable justification for willful ignorance - and that even if I convince myself the game doesn't exist, even if I were to refuse to play... it's still playing me.
My Resolve to Resolve Me
I miss the days when I could turn on a pop radio station and have a chance of hearing Sarah McLachlan. Now, I can't turn on any radio station at all without being inundated by some kind of agenda. No, thank you; I don't want to buy your cd, your lifestyle, your fame, or your vacuous "message." What the hell happened to that thing called "music?" (Don't answer. I only employ such obvious rhetorical interrogatives in the preservation of my last vestiges of starving optimism).
I've been catching myself saying that "I feel old" quite a lot lately, and—of course—I found myself wondering WHY. After much thought, I realize that I don't feel old – at least not physically. When I first created this blog, it was the cynic in me that opted to adopt the moniker "Mr. Blase," despite the fact that I have generally managed to find happiness even in my darkest days. Now, however, I realize that a definite cloud of real blase is rolling softly down my mental valley – if not quite yet settling. That's not the kind of irony I favor.
As the days drift by, I find myself needing more and more time alone, even to the point that I have to remind myself to make time for my loved ones. Casual acquaintances are a thing of the past; I can no longer spare such investments. I've considered the possibility that my—admittedly extreme—introversion has been deepening with age, or perhaps with the frustration borne of life's usual failures in the context of my inescapable perfectionism, but I don't believe that to be the case. Instead, I suspect that this is a symptom of a long-avoided problem for which I still don't have a real remedy: I just don't feel at home in any large group of people - whether that be a party, a city, or a society. It all feels wrong to me.
The mental atmospheres of status quo's inhabitants continue to evaporate steadily, and as the pressure to assimilate becomes stronger by way of both simple mass and self-preservative conviction, I am becoming more and more aware of my growing instinct to escape it all before I'm swallowed up and changed – before I am reduced to simply so much condensation on the brow of the social machine, to be dripped into yet another furrow behind its plow. At the same time, the avenues for a true escape have only grown narrower with every passing year, and their accessibility more strugglesome. I feel trapped. I've responded by nesting; by surrounding myself with nostalgia and sentiment at home; by aspiring to spend as much time as possible away from the sounds, smells and sights of people; by drowning myself in allegory and abstractions and using them as gloves with which I can safely handle the more emotionally-radioactive elements I encounter on a day-to-day basis, but my words—like silent raindrops—fell...
Forced isolation is no better for me than forced socialization, and all I have really accomplished in my withdrawal is a masterpiece of loneliness; my next project in life is to attempt to dismantle it, discard it, and rid myself of any sentimental attachment to it. I have too many things yet to do in life, and I don't want to do them alone.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Stick that in your pipe and ponder it!
Has it ever occurred to you to wonder why human beings are such a strange breed of vegetable?
Some have ventured that the beasties are actually poultry, given that they're prone to frequent fits of frenzy and flights of only-ever fancy - and lose their heads over something as paltry as dinner.
In the same way that a grape isn't quite wine waiting to happen, I'm not yet convinced... but all the angry stomping about makes me mirthful nevertheless.
Here a vine, there a pod, but ne'er a swarm of locusts when you need one!
Some have ventured that the beasties are actually poultry, given that they're prone to frequent fits of frenzy and flights of only-ever fancy - and lose their heads over something as paltry as dinner.
In the same way that a grape isn't quite wine waiting to happen, I'm not yet convinced... but all the angry stomping about makes me mirthful nevertheless.
Here a vine, there a pod, but ne'er a swarm of locusts when you need one!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Apocalypsssssse!
beginReality(humans, Earth, chances[0,0,0,0...], shit, screwed);
Ahhhh, tonight is one of those nights! Ya know what I'm talkin' about? Hah! YEAH, you do!
It's one of those nights where I'm experiencing an uncontrollable urge to plug into Unreal Tournament and crank up some KMFDM, Manson, Ayria, Lullacry, Kittie and Zombie Girl and just blow some sh*t the f*ck up! (People get mad when I blow things up in the real world. Idiots! They always fail to grasp the point!)
True art is practically a lost art nowadays.
Mass media is ass-backwards, folks! (The open-eyed among you already know that, but I feel compelled to reiterate reality at every opportunity, just to be thorough.) In a world overrun by carnal appetites who've evolved the ability to perambulate and combine fact+imagination to rationalize ANYTHING, the few still-sane survivors among us should all be taking up arms and putting the rest out of their misery.
If you've ever wondered why war--over the last few thousand years--has been steadily reinforcing an ideal position from which to consume our entire planet, (even though it all flies in the faces of so-called "reason," our own survival, and even sunshine and rainbows), this is it! Humanity has decayed to the point of objective hilarity, far beyond even the relative glimmer of despair --
-- and OH MY FREAKING GOD!!, sometimes it's just all I can do to not go clock-tower-massacre on an apocalyptic scale!
Of course our social and personal proclivities have progressively become more and more violent with each generation! If they weren't, our children would all be out of their f*cking minds and recreating Columbine by the time they hit 4th grade! Where else do you think all of that self-loathing is going to end up? People may be stupid--and good lord, every time I think I've seen it all, some complete backbirth manages to surprise me--but no human being is capable of true ignorance in the face of unavoidable truth. And the truth, you bozos, is that every fucked-up person knows, KNOWS, exactly how fucked-up s/he is - and now that that comprehension has been thoroughly suppressed for thousands of years by every social engine driving our lives, the pressure has finally begun to become too much. Eventually, people reach a breaking point at which the force of clarity overwhelms the force of stigma-inspired inanity... and then stuff like Columbine happens, (which then, ironically, gets turned into merely another device to repress the greater social truth intrinsic in its occurrence!)
And speaking of that incident: I literally LOL'd when I read the news reports trying to establish a positive correlation between violent video games and the shootings; maybe if those kids had played *more* Doom, they wouldn't have given in to their--brilliant--instincts to do something about their local pollution problem. Err, I mean, kill all those poor students.
How f'ing backwards will our society have to become as a whole before we turn completely inside-out and get thrown in the dirty laundry bin of the Universe? I don't know - but I know we've gotta be getting really damned close!
So, masses! While you're hooking up to your fantasy-sustaining alcohol I.V.s; going through the mundane motions of eating, excreting, fucking, sometimes combining all three and using those simple--meaningless--functions to justify your existence; denying everything and denying your denial; you should sleep lightly - 'cause the only reason you're still alive is because somebody--somewhere--has decided to let you live. And I'm one of them!
function endReality()
{
objectivity_on = false;
sanity_on = false;
detachment_on = true;
music_on = true;
digital_slaughter_on = true;
}
Saturday, April 25, 2009
"Dogma"
All we want is a headrush;
All we want is to get out of our skin for awhile.
We have nothing to lose because we don't have anything...
... anything we want, anyway.
We used to hate people;
Now we just make fun of them -
It's more effective that way.
We don't live; we just scratch on day to day,
With nothing but matchbooks and sarcasm in our pockets,
And all we're waiting for is for something worth waiting for.
Let's admit America gets the celebrities we deserve;
Let's stop saying "Don't quote me,"
Because if no one quotes you, you probably haven't said a thing worth saying!
Sex, drugs, god, cash;
Sex, drugs, god... America!
We need something to kill the pain of all that nothing inside!
Sex, drugs, god, cash;
Sex, drugs, god... America!
We all just want to die, a little bit...
We fear that pop culture is the only kind of culture we're ever gonna have;
We want to stop reading magazines,
Stop watching TV,
Stop caring about Hollywood -
But we're addicted to the things we hate.
We don't run Washington -
And no one really does;
Ask not what you can do for your country...
Ask what your country did to you!
Sex, drugs, god, cash;
Sex, drugs, god... America!
The only reason you're still alive is because someone has decided to let you live!
Sex, drugs, god, cash;
Sex, drugs, god... America!
We owe so much money we're not "broke" -
We're broken!
We're so poor we can't even pay attention!
So what do you want?
You want to be famous, and rich, and happy,
But you're terrified you have nothing to offer this world?
Nothing to say, and no way to say it?
-- But you can say it in three languages?
You are more than the sum of what you consume!
Desire is not an occupation!
You are alternately thrilled and desperate:
Sky-high and fucked!
Let's stop praying for someone to save us and start saving ourselves;
Let's stop this and start over.
Let's go out -
Let's keep going.
Sex, drugs, god, cash;
Sex, drugs, god... America!
This is your life -
This is your fucking life!
Sex, drugs, god, cash;
Sex, drugs, god... America!
You need something to kill the pain of all that nothing inside...
Sex, drugs, god, cash;
Sex, drugs, god... America!
Someone's writing down your mistakes...
Someone's documenting your downfall...
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Snowball storytelling
There once was a man from Ferndale... he was a strange, wicked little man, with aspirations of world domination - but shy.
One fine evening in the summer of '02, he was struck by a craving for gourmet pizza pie!
One fine evening in the summer of '02, he was struck by a craving for gourmet pizza pie!
But alas, his craving occurred at a most unfortunate time: 3:18 AM.
— And, tragically, the last pizza joint had closed at 3:17.
— And, tragically, the last pizza joint had closed at 3:17.
So he grabbed his Swiss army knife, and set out to find him some pizza! ... by FORCE!
The first topping he encountered was a gnarled old woman in a shopping cart.
"Yes, she'll make lovely pepperoni!" he thought.
"Yes, she'll make lovely pepperoni!" he thought.
So he chopped her up into delicate little circles and stuffed them in a plastic grocery bag.
(Handy things, those. He has lots).
(Handy things, those. He has lots).
The next topping he encountered was a beastly giant squirrel!
Ebon of hair and ghastly of stare, the thing tried to fight...
Ebon of hair and ghastly of stare, the thing tried to fight...
... but lost, sorely! With a few slashes, a poke, a grunt and a drop of sweat, the critter became his sausage bits. Into the bag!
Next on his list to find were vegetables... so onward he trekked, to the local bar and grill - it was a popular biker hangout, and everyone knows that bikers are FANTASTIC vegetables.
Stalking around the corner of the building, he saw a perfect specimen!
Stalking around the corner of the building, he saw a perfect specimen!
With a huff and a puff, he blew the line of choppers onto their unsuspecting owners, and before they could react, he attacked!
Suddenly, Iron Maiden appeared out of thin air and began playing a great battle hymn worthy of his pursuit. On he charged!
In a mere matter of seconds, a score of bloodied bikers brayed helplessly as our hungry hero carved this vegetable and that: onions, bell peppers, fresh artichokes and more from the hides of the hideous little biker boors - until he could carry no more.
Then, satisfied with his haul, he turned 'round and spied a fresh fruit taking a smoke break, just leaning against the wall...
— With a flourish, and a crash of guitar, he leaped to a crouch and lashed out with his gauche and scored him a fresh tomato! Just like that! Wahoo!
Ingredients complete, our hero hopped to his feet and returned to his humble abode with his treat.
One hour later, his pizza was done, his belly was full, and his tongue was recovering from all of the fun - and he said to himself,
One hour later, his pizza was done, his belly was full, and his tongue was recovering from all of the fun - and he said to himself,
"Now, I think I could use some pork buns!"
.... and so the story ends.
— FOR NOW.
.... and so the story ends.
— FOR NOW.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
How many times can you make a different mistake with the same outcome as the last?!
I've been really frustrated this past couple of months. At myself, for once. Where do I start?
A couple of years ago, I briefly dated a girl who I thought was pretty freakin' awesome. She's super smart, super cute, and she's a complete cuddle-fiend. She's just a generally positive person, and every time I touched her I could feel those happy emanations from her like they were heat. Pretty much, she had most of the essential qualities I wanted in somebody I could share my life with. I always associate the color green with her; let's call this magical lady "Emerald."
We broke up under uncertain circumstances after only a couple of months together; I wasn't sure what was really going on with her when she ended things--I could tell there was more on her mind than the little she shared with me at that point--but before dating her I'd been in about the worst relationship ever - and I had vowed when it ended that I wasn't going to go out on a limb for anyone anymore. I'm normally the glue that holds my relationships together. I'd had enough. (Solo glue doesn't get much love from the junk it keeps from falling apart, it seems. I know this now). When Emerald broke up with me, it just happened to be at the one point in my life where I just said... "Okay. Whatever," and let it run its course. I had plenty of other things going on in my life, so I didn't have a lot of time to think about it - which was both good and bad, in retrospect. If I'd tried, I could've probably worked things out with her. But... I didn't. Anyway, on we go.
Shortly thereafter, I started dating somebody else (no, I'm not a serial dater; it was just chance) that I actually grew to love very, very much. We'll call this girl... oh, hell, she'll never see this: her name was Meagan. She was a very different person than Emerald, but no less special. She really wasn't the kind of girl I'd normally date - certainly not what I'd always considered to be "my type," if there is such a thing. She was a lot more... normal. More girly, but also a tomboy, and she had a huge heart for me and her then 3 year old son, Logan. Great kid, great mother, though her and I clashed on quite a lot; despite that, after a year with her there wasn't a doubt in my mind that this was somebody I wanted to start a family with, and somebody I could easily be with forever. She was capable--albeit very reluctant--of communicating with me at a level that allowed us to work through whatever differences came up. We usually had discussions, not fights - and finished with understanding, rather than compromise. It all seemed perfect. That's what I thought, anyway - turns out I was wrong.
Not long after I began the quest to find Meagan the perfect engagement ring, she started a new job, and then a couple weeks later stopped talking to me - just completely shut down. It was March, 2008. I knew the first day that something was wrong, but nothing I could do would get her to open up to me about it. A couple of days after those first signs of trouble, we stopped having sex; we stopped touching; we stopped being intimate in any way. She'd become completely cold. She said she needed space, and she'd work out what was bothering her on her own, and that she just needed me to give her some time. A couple weeks after that, I started sleeping on the couch - and she never did work it out. I never found out what was going on, and now a year and change later I still don't know. I've never been the clueless boyfriend, but for once I honestly haven't the faintest idea what happened that time. We don't talk anymore, so I'm sure I probably never will. I miss Logan, and I wish she would've let me help just for his sake, even. I worry about him a lot, but that's a whole 'nother thing I won't get into right now.
Meagan and I tried to make the roommates arrangement work for both of us, but after a few months I ended up moving out. There was too much memory for me, and not enough space for her new friends and new things that came after me. Every day I dreaded the possibility that she'd bring some other guy home, and I'd have one more unsolved mystery to add to the already unmanageable list attached to her name. I got out before that could happen.
So a few years after our initial romp, Emerald is a bit more grown up, I'm all grown up, and the playing field is a bit more level between us - though I haven't thought about it yet. I have my own place, have found my own happiness, and only think about Meagan and Logan maybe 2 or 3 times a week. Things are looking up. Progress, right?
During the course of trying to figure out why Meagan didn't work out, (another daily routine at the time, though more habitual than necessary by that point), I got to thinking about her qualities and shortcomings which might have contributed to the mystery, and in a roundabout way it led me to thinking about Emerald. I'm not completely sure why, but she popped into my head one day: a random and pleasant memory--though equally as confusing as Meagan--on a train of thought that was otherwise pretty bleak and depressing. I always remembered her very fondly, as I'd become very attached while we were together - even though it was a fairly short time we'd had back then. Our differences had certainly been exaggerated by different maturity levels in various aspects of life, but it was one of the "good" times of my life. If I hadn't had so much going on when Emerald and I first broke up, it would've been her stuck in the endless loop in my head every day for months, for sure.
Then, suddenly, it was January of this year, 2009; and I was thinking about her again. I found myself wondering if she would've ended up doing the same thing to me as Meagan had, and I knew as soon as I thought it that she wouldn't have. It made me really miss her. A lot. And it made me wonder if maybe hers was a relationship that was still salvageable. If I've learned anything from the last 2 years of my life, it's that truly precious things and people are rare, and even more rarely last as long as you hope they will. So I looked her up. I wasn't about to let another opportunity float by without at least reaching for it first.
Emerald and I hadn't parted on the best of terms due to me just letting the whole thing slide on its own, and I had a lot of explaining to do - but I did it. I'd had a lot of time to think about my reasons for not pursuing the relationship with her more aggressively, and for not fighting to keep it alive when it started to falter. I know myself a lot better now than I did even as the very mature young adult that I had been the last time we'd seen each other. Her reaction was understandably hostile and skeptical at first; why hadn't I said any of this earlier, before or just after we'd broken up?; why now? Valid questions, all - and fortunately for me, I knew the answers to all of them, and I answered truthfully. And, impressively, she listened.
We began speaking again, then, and somehow connected in the same way we had before; we just sort of picked up where we'd left off 2 years prior, and it felt really good - like taking care of some extremely important unfinished business.
And then I completely screwed it up. Yeah.
See, I'm normally a pretty happy guy; I'm a realist, and I see life and its contents for what they really are. However, I'm also an absolutely insatiable dreamer. Potential is everywhere; it's usually tough to get me down, and usually tougher to keep me down. What I didn't really realize--and what I'm still realizing--is how cynical and jaded my experience with Meagan has encouraged me to be. I range between two polar opposites in my approach to life: seeing the potential and celebrating every step made toward it, or seeing that potential and loathing people for their apathy towards it. Obviously it hurt me a lot to end such a significant chapter of my life on that kind of a down note, so I wouldn't expect to be completely over that residual cynicism for quite awhile (if ever), but by the time Emerald and I started talking again, I really thought I'd at least gotten it under control.
Well... I was wrong.
I still have these bursts of negativity whenever I think about Meagan which outright pollute whatever else is going on at the moment; to make matters worse, my new roommate and I had a huge falling out about the same time Emerald and I got back in touch, which has been/still is causing me a boat load of additional stress. Still, I'm a survivor; I'm the one who copes and gets through it. I don't make excuses. Usually.
So Emerald and I jump right back into our old relationship in this new environment, and I'm too excited about it to really stop and think about the fact that I probably wasn't ready to get in that deep quite so soon. As it turns out, I should've figured that out beforehand. My baggage was too much; it started to affect her right away despite my best efforts to keep it in hiding, and it ended up ruining things between us even more quickly than the last time 2 years ago! Grr!
I'm just pissed at myself! I hate hurting people, and I hate that doing so accidentally--or negligently, as is more probably the case here--has taken away all of the credibility I worked to create after not fighting for her years ago when it might've mattered. Now, as willing as I am to do whatever it takes, it doesn't matter, because the damage is already done! I'm really not a stupid person - not even for a guy, and I'm trying to tell myself that my track record is virtually spotless in comparison to the average joe, but I can't shake the realization that my recent poor moods have combined with the past's poor circumstances to culminate in a total loss. Emerald is a great girl - WAS a great girl; now, due to my own lack of foresight, I blew it, lost her, and for once it's my own damn fault!
Fuck!
This is not the kind of irony I enjoy.
I'm sorry, Emerald.
Lesson learned.
A couple of years ago, I briefly dated a girl who I thought was pretty freakin' awesome. She's super smart, super cute, and she's a complete cuddle-fiend. She's just a generally positive person, and every time I touched her I could feel those happy emanations from her like they were heat. Pretty much, she had most of the essential qualities I wanted in somebody I could share my life with. I always associate the color green with her; let's call this magical lady "Emerald."
We broke up under uncertain circumstances after only a couple of months together; I wasn't sure what was really going on with her when she ended things--I could tell there was more on her mind than the little she shared with me at that point--but before dating her I'd been in about the worst relationship ever - and I had vowed when it ended that I wasn't going to go out on a limb for anyone anymore. I'm normally the glue that holds my relationships together. I'd had enough. (Solo glue doesn't get much love from the junk it keeps from falling apart, it seems. I know this now). When Emerald broke up with me, it just happened to be at the one point in my life where I just said... "Okay. Whatever," and let it run its course. I had plenty of other things going on in my life, so I didn't have a lot of time to think about it - which was both good and bad, in retrospect. If I'd tried, I could've probably worked things out with her. But... I didn't. Anyway, on we go.
Shortly thereafter, I started dating somebody else (no, I'm not a serial dater; it was just chance) that I actually grew to love very, very much. We'll call this girl... oh, hell, she'll never see this: her name was Meagan. She was a very different person than Emerald, but no less special. She really wasn't the kind of girl I'd normally date - certainly not what I'd always considered to be "my type," if there is such a thing. She was a lot more... normal. More girly, but also a tomboy, and she had a huge heart for me and her then 3 year old son, Logan. Great kid, great mother, though her and I clashed on quite a lot; despite that, after a year with her there wasn't a doubt in my mind that this was somebody I wanted to start a family with, and somebody I could easily be with forever. She was capable--albeit very reluctant--of communicating with me at a level that allowed us to work through whatever differences came up. We usually had discussions, not fights - and finished with understanding, rather than compromise. It all seemed perfect. That's what I thought, anyway - turns out I was wrong.
Not long after I began the quest to find Meagan the perfect engagement ring, she started a new job, and then a couple weeks later stopped talking to me - just completely shut down. It was March, 2008. I knew the first day that something was wrong, but nothing I could do would get her to open up to me about it. A couple of days after those first signs of trouble, we stopped having sex; we stopped touching; we stopped being intimate in any way. She'd become completely cold. She said she needed space, and she'd work out what was bothering her on her own, and that she just needed me to give her some time. A couple weeks after that, I started sleeping on the couch - and she never did work it out. I never found out what was going on, and now a year and change later I still don't know. I've never been the clueless boyfriend, but for once I honestly haven't the faintest idea what happened that time. We don't talk anymore, so I'm sure I probably never will. I miss Logan, and I wish she would've let me help just for his sake, even. I worry about him a lot, but that's a whole 'nother thing I won't get into right now.
Meagan and I tried to make the roommates arrangement work for both of us, but after a few months I ended up moving out. There was too much memory for me, and not enough space for her new friends and new things that came after me. Every day I dreaded the possibility that she'd bring some other guy home, and I'd have one more unsolved mystery to add to the already unmanageable list attached to her name. I got out before that could happen.
So a few years after our initial romp, Emerald is a bit more grown up, I'm all grown up, and the playing field is a bit more level between us - though I haven't thought about it yet. I have my own place, have found my own happiness, and only think about Meagan and Logan maybe 2 or 3 times a week. Things are looking up. Progress, right?
During the course of trying to figure out why Meagan didn't work out, (another daily routine at the time, though more habitual than necessary by that point), I got to thinking about her qualities and shortcomings which might have contributed to the mystery, and in a roundabout way it led me to thinking about Emerald. I'm not completely sure why, but she popped into my head one day: a random and pleasant memory--though equally as confusing as Meagan--on a train of thought that was otherwise pretty bleak and depressing. I always remembered her very fondly, as I'd become very attached while we were together - even though it was a fairly short time we'd had back then. Our differences had certainly been exaggerated by different maturity levels in various aspects of life, but it was one of the "good" times of my life. If I hadn't had so much going on when Emerald and I first broke up, it would've been her stuck in the endless loop in my head every day for months, for sure.
Then, suddenly, it was January of this year, 2009; and I was thinking about her again. I found myself wondering if she would've ended up doing the same thing to me as Meagan had, and I knew as soon as I thought it that she wouldn't have. It made me really miss her. A lot. And it made me wonder if maybe hers was a relationship that was still salvageable. If I've learned anything from the last 2 years of my life, it's that truly precious things and people are rare, and even more rarely last as long as you hope they will. So I looked her up. I wasn't about to let another opportunity float by without at least reaching for it first.
Emerald and I hadn't parted on the best of terms due to me just letting the whole thing slide on its own, and I had a lot of explaining to do - but I did it. I'd had a lot of time to think about my reasons for not pursuing the relationship with her more aggressively, and for not fighting to keep it alive when it started to falter. I know myself a lot better now than I did even as the very mature young adult that I had been the last time we'd seen each other. Her reaction was understandably hostile and skeptical at first; why hadn't I said any of this earlier, before or just after we'd broken up?; why now? Valid questions, all - and fortunately for me, I knew the answers to all of them, and I answered truthfully. And, impressively, she listened.
We began speaking again, then, and somehow connected in the same way we had before; we just sort of picked up where we'd left off 2 years prior, and it felt really good - like taking care of some extremely important unfinished business.
And then I completely screwed it up. Yeah.
See, I'm normally a pretty happy guy; I'm a realist, and I see life and its contents for what they really are. However, I'm also an absolutely insatiable dreamer. Potential is everywhere; it's usually tough to get me down, and usually tougher to keep me down. What I didn't really realize--and what I'm still realizing--is how cynical and jaded my experience with Meagan has encouraged me to be. I range between two polar opposites in my approach to life: seeing the potential and celebrating every step made toward it, or seeing that potential and loathing people for their apathy towards it. Obviously it hurt me a lot to end such a significant chapter of my life on that kind of a down note, so I wouldn't expect to be completely over that residual cynicism for quite awhile (if ever), but by the time Emerald and I started talking again, I really thought I'd at least gotten it under control.
Well... I was wrong.
I still have these bursts of negativity whenever I think about Meagan which outright pollute whatever else is going on at the moment; to make matters worse, my new roommate and I had a huge falling out about the same time Emerald and I got back in touch, which has been/still is causing me a boat load of additional stress. Still, I'm a survivor; I'm the one who copes and gets through it. I don't make excuses. Usually.
So Emerald and I jump right back into our old relationship in this new environment, and I'm too excited about it to really stop and think about the fact that I probably wasn't ready to get in that deep quite so soon. As it turns out, I should've figured that out beforehand. My baggage was too much; it started to affect her right away despite my best efforts to keep it in hiding, and it ended up ruining things between us even more quickly than the last time 2 years ago! Grr!
I'm just pissed at myself! I hate hurting people, and I hate that doing so accidentally--or negligently, as is more probably the case here--has taken away all of the credibility I worked to create after not fighting for her years ago when it might've mattered. Now, as willing as I am to do whatever it takes, it doesn't matter, because the damage is already done! I'm really not a stupid person - not even for a guy, and I'm trying to tell myself that my track record is virtually spotless in comparison to the average joe, but I can't shake the realization that my recent poor moods have combined with the past's poor circumstances to culminate in a total loss. Emerald is a great girl - WAS a great girl; now, due to my own lack of foresight, I blew it, lost her, and for once it's my own damn fault!
Fuck!
This is not the kind of irony I enjoy.
I'm sorry, Emerald.
Lesson learned.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
The secrets of life.
Here you go, folks. This is the comprehensive meaning of life...
... really. It is. So read it, learn it, and get started.
---------------------------------------------------
The perception of "arrogance" in others is most often generated by the failure to recognize ignorance in--and/or of--one's own self. Rather than become a focus for your frustration, these reflections of your own shortcomings should be cause for striving to achieve a higher state of enlightenment.
We are imperfect creatures by nature - but we have evolved to the point that we each possess the ability to correct our own imperfections and, in fact, exceed all preconceived notions of our own limitations.
We have infinite potential, limited only by our choices to either exercise our imaginations and reason, or let them stagnate.
However, given the fact that all humans now exist--to varying degrees--as social entities within a larger unifying construct, all members are affected by all other members. To allow one's personal development to remain neutral, or even decay, is to force such neutrality or decay upon all other members of the collective. To not invest completely in one's own enlightenment as the most fundamental and important matter of each moment of life is to weigh down the continued evolution and progression of the human race.
Every instant of denial constitutes an injustice against every living thing.
Every individual's moments of ungoverned weakness each bring us all one step closer to extinction.
Ignorance is never a worthy excuse.
Failure is necessary; failure to try is criminal.
Apathy is the ultimate transgression against oneself, as it is against all others.
Failure will bring about the death of our past, present, and future...
...but our gift as human beings is the singular ability to truly govern inevitability.
-- and almost none of us use it.
---------------------------------------------------
As a great artist sang:
"Thinking hurts and thoughts don't rhyme
To those of us who've never tried
To find a face behind our lipstick smiles;
And as our pretty faces die,
Our broken hearts will wonder why
The makeup just won't hide the scars of time."
... really. It is. So read it, learn it, and get started.
---------------------------------------------------
The perception of "arrogance" in others is most often generated by the failure to recognize ignorance in--and/or of--one's own self. Rather than become a focus for your frustration, these reflections of your own shortcomings should be cause for striving to achieve a higher state of enlightenment.
We are imperfect creatures by nature - but we have evolved to the point that we each possess the ability to correct our own imperfections and, in fact, exceed all preconceived notions of our own limitations.
We have infinite potential, limited only by our choices to either exercise our imaginations and reason, or let them stagnate.
However, given the fact that all humans now exist--to varying degrees--as social entities within a larger unifying construct, all members are affected by all other members. To allow one's personal development to remain neutral, or even decay, is to force such neutrality or decay upon all other members of the collective. To not invest completely in one's own enlightenment as the most fundamental and important matter of each moment of life is to weigh down the continued evolution and progression of the human race.
Every instant of denial constitutes an injustice against every living thing.
Every individual's moments of ungoverned weakness each bring us all one step closer to extinction.
Ignorance is never a worthy excuse.
Failure is necessary; failure to try is criminal.
Apathy is the ultimate transgression against oneself, as it is against all others.
Failure will bring about the death of our past, present, and future...
...but our gift as human beings is the singular ability to truly govern inevitability.
-- and almost none of us use it.
---------------------------------------------------
As a great artist sang:
"Thinking hurts and thoughts don't rhyme
To those of us who've never tried
To find a face behind our lipstick smiles;
And as our pretty faces die,
Our broken hearts will wonder why
The makeup just won't hide the scars of time."
Monday, April 6, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
More than just boredom
I'm perpetually alternating between feeling that I'm wasting my life, and feeling that there's nothing truly constructive I could be doing anyway.
I'm capable of succeeding--no, excelling--at anything I put my mind to doing. I'm good at everything. Concepts I don't already have a firm grasp of are second-nature to learn. I can't remember the last time I was challenged by anything except my patience.
You'd think this would make the world my oyster. I'm supposed to be the special prodigy whose options are unlimited, who has infinite potential and who only wants for something until he decides he actually wants it. People who know me tell me I'm "destined" to be a pillar for something greater in life, and that seems to make sense.
My brain is constantly occupied with those great thoughts of what needs to be done versus what's actually going on, on a social and often global scale. I understand the reasons governing why any given event occurs, and I see what's coming next. Everything is so simple to me that I honestly wonder how it's even possible that our world can often be such a terrible place to be a human being.
I refuse to believe that nobody else truly understands. Everybody else just lives in denial - and the responsibility for their INactions falls on the shoulders of people like myself--are there others like me?--who not only know better but realize that the balance must be maintained no matter how much sacrifice it requires. So I give and I give and I give EVERYTHING, expecting nothing back - but knowing that I don't really have a choice in that regard, anyway. Why? Are all the people I help in the course of my life going to suddenly have an epiphany someday and realize how much of a drain they are on society, on the people who love them, the people they pretend to love back? How exactly am I changing the world, here? I see everything, sure - but I don't see it.
Every day I wake up feeling absolutely flattened by the weight of this responsibility; I feel like if I were in "charge" of everything, I could fix it all. I know I could... it's really not just a feeling. But I don't want to be in charge! Just being in charge of MYSELF is difficult enough that the majority of other people in the same situation just pretend that no such maintenance is necessary! And the fraction of my energy that I have left for myself just keeps shrinking as time goes on; it's long past the point where I feel like the most significant aspects of who I am remain woven into the lives of people I've cared about in the past. I don't feel like I have anything left. I don't know why I get up in the morning. I don't know what to do with myself and even if I did, I wouldn't know HOW to do so.
I've never just been "me" before. I've always been "me the boyfriend/brother/son/friend/whatever" - and I don't resent any of that; I wouldn't give up any of that for anything, because I know that those efforts DO matter in the lives of certain individuals. But I can't shake the constant feeling that there's just not enough left of "just me" to constitute anything tangible anymore. I feel like a vast nexus of broken links to people and places and feelings and memories, and I have no idea how to escape that identity or function outside of it. I'm really not confident that there IS anything beyond it anymore.
I want the world and my friends and my family and everything else to fix themselves, just like I have always fixed myself. I'm tired of being the go-to guy for everyone else's answers time and time again, even though I tell myself I'm making some kind of positive difference by making myself available for that purpose. I just don't feel it. For as long as I can remember, I've always felt like I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders out of sheer necessity - picking up the slack for everyone else because I know nobody else will. And somebody HAS to do it! As proud as I am of the good things I know I've done, I feel like I have absolutely nothing to show for it.
I can't relate to anybody anymore, if I ever even could. I'm not sure I have any concept of true "self" left. Whenever I manage to come up with something I could do to occupy myself other than picking up somebody else's pieces, it takes me the space of a minute or two to follow that something's train of thought to completion; I see myself doing it, the possible immediate results, each result's progressively more distant repercussions, and I see that none of it means a damn thing.
Is there supposed to be a point to life? Does *ANY* of it mean a damn thing? What the hell am I doing here...
I'm capable of succeeding--no, excelling--at anything I put my mind to doing. I'm good at everything. Concepts I don't already have a firm grasp of are second-nature to learn. I can't remember the last time I was challenged by anything except my patience.
You'd think this would make the world my oyster. I'm supposed to be the special prodigy whose options are unlimited, who has infinite potential and who only wants for something until he decides he actually wants it. People who know me tell me I'm "destined" to be a pillar for something greater in life, and that seems to make sense.
My brain is constantly occupied with those great thoughts of what needs to be done versus what's actually going on, on a social and often global scale. I understand the reasons governing why any given event occurs, and I see what's coming next. Everything is so simple to me that I honestly wonder how it's even possible that our world can often be such a terrible place to be a human being.
I refuse to believe that nobody else truly understands. Everybody else just lives in denial - and the responsibility for their INactions falls on the shoulders of people like myself--are there others like me?--who not only know better but realize that the balance must be maintained no matter how much sacrifice it requires. So I give and I give and I give EVERYTHING, expecting nothing back - but knowing that I don't really have a choice in that regard, anyway. Why? Are all the people I help in the course of my life going to suddenly have an epiphany someday and realize how much of a drain they are on society, on the people who love them, the people they pretend to love back? How exactly am I changing the world, here? I see everything, sure - but I don't see it.
Every day I wake up feeling absolutely flattened by the weight of this responsibility; I feel like if I were in "charge" of everything, I could fix it all. I know I could... it's really not just a feeling. But I don't want to be in charge! Just being in charge of MYSELF is difficult enough that the majority of other people in the same situation just pretend that no such maintenance is necessary! And the fraction of my energy that I have left for myself just keeps shrinking as time goes on; it's long past the point where I feel like the most significant aspects of who I am remain woven into the lives of people I've cared about in the past. I don't feel like I have anything left. I don't know why I get up in the morning. I don't know what to do with myself and even if I did, I wouldn't know HOW to do so.
I've never just been "me" before. I've always been "me the boyfriend/brother/son/friend/whatever" - and I don't resent any of that; I wouldn't give up any of that for anything, because I know that those efforts DO matter in the lives of certain individuals. But I can't shake the constant feeling that there's just not enough left of "just me" to constitute anything tangible anymore. I feel like a vast nexus of broken links to people and places and feelings and memories, and I have no idea how to escape that identity or function outside of it. I'm really not confident that there IS anything beyond it anymore.
I want the world and my friends and my family and everything else to fix themselves, just like I have always fixed myself. I'm tired of being the go-to guy for everyone else's answers time and time again, even though I tell myself I'm making some kind of positive difference by making myself available for that purpose. I just don't feel it. For as long as I can remember, I've always felt like I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders out of sheer necessity - picking up the slack for everyone else because I know nobody else will. And somebody HAS to do it! As proud as I am of the good things I know I've done, I feel like I have absolutely nothing to show for it.
I can't relate to anybody anymore, if I ever even could. I'm not sure I have any concept of true "self" left. Whenever I manage to come up with something I could do to occupy myself other than picking up somebody else's pieces, it takes me the space of a minute or two to follow that something's train of thought to completion; I see myself doing it, the possible immediate results, each result's progressively more distant repercussions, and I see that none of it means a damn thing.
Is there supposed to be a point to life? Does *ANY* of it mean a damn thing? What the hell am I doing here...
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