Archive for October, 2010|Monthly archive page

What do you go home to?

In Uncategorized on 10/16/2010 at 11:37 PM

Dude, this one is intense and melodramatic, be careful haha I am not usually like this…

Nobody said goodbye to me upon my departure for college. I was alone; that was good. In all of life, we oversimplify by personification so that thought becomes organized and efficient. it ain’t bad.. We think, “Christianity spread throughout Constantinople because of Emporer Constantine and experienced some syncretism with the widespread pagan traditions of the time. Such syncretism gave us holidays (literally holy days) like Christmas or Easter that were aligned with pagan festivals popular at the time.” We do not think (usually), “The dramatic conversion of an Emporer to a newfound religion vastly devastated and changed the spiritual landscape of the Byzantine Empire. Many people discovered a newfound joy and hope, others were forced into proclaiming beliefs, the variety of stories is impossible to comprehend, just within this observed sweep of a new religion. People were unsure of how to respond and so they observed certain rituals in addition to the new rituals of Christianity. For centuries tens of thousands of people were transformed in a variety of ways.” It is unusual to observe the ambiguity, it is conducive to society to live in a series of stereotypes that may or may not be true. As a general rule, stereotypes are false. Yet, demographics is the most important tool in the economics, culture, politics, academia, etc.

The stereotype of Christianity I originally described came about when Western Historians judged the world and now a concensus has been reached on events milenia old. Unfortunately, this method of generalization seems to permeate our thinking in all arenas. Life is brimming with necessary lies.

Is life really built of those phases? Babyhood, balled it. I sat, I shat, I spat, I was a brat. Done.

Elementary school, I ate all the sugar cereal entranced by the TV and played handball like a baller.

Junior high, I was horny and awkward, liked male teachers. I wanted to ball her…

High school, I feel like I defied high school. High school is where i learned about loneliness. I didn’t understand loneliness or contemplation. I still don’t really. However, I learned a forced detachment by my situation in three different high schools. I didn’t care, it was all about being cool. And no one was cool in my mind. Cool had a very specific definition that nobody ever knew. I bothered to look it up but I forgot it immediately, because it’s not cool to know that kind of stuff. I DGAFed the fuck out of everything but didn’t care that i did. I think high school is where people got confused, there are so many stereotypes that exist concerning high school. They are the basis for every program the government devotes to aiding high school, every film set in high school, and build up the concept of high school in every mind. These are all expectations that if you haven’t noticed, don’t exist in any perfect form.

What do we learn in high school? We are not a stereotype, there is nobody like us. And if there is someone who is ‘like’ us, that does not diminish our individuality. In this individuality we are altogether alone. Social constructs exist by tradition to warm each other, and not in vain. In fact, it is difficult to recognize our disconnection because we focus on something we call connections. In reality, we have nothing. Our mind and body are malleable and only our friends and family may recognize us to give us worth or existence. We exist for each other, with tired eyes, tired minds, tired souls, we sleep. And when we sleep, our existence is oversimplified as some portion of history.

We cannot oversimplify ourselves as some part of history or we will have already fallen asleep. We must recognize the ambiguities within ourselves. It has been said that man typically operates like machines. This is true, and it does not matter. Acadamia may wash over me as something because history is impossible to tamper with. I am not suggesting that history is evil and we should try and be a part of history. Happiness is not in history. As of now, we are humans. With some flick of God’s wrist, we become history. I am focused on the human part.

Humanity, is something higher than the world. There is a definite difference. This argument is not new,

It is true. There is something to be said about humanity. There is beauty in us, there is ugliness in us. We do not love ourselves because we are beautiful, that is simply not true. We must love the fact that we are human and that we are alone. Despite what we have learned, we have freedom. Not political freedom, but we can think for ourselves and consider what we would like because we are human.

So what do we go home to? I left for college without saying goodbye to anybody. I came back a little while later and it was all very weird. But i realized that man is a wanderer, we have homes: practical homes that move based on practicality, emotional homes in people that change based on people, spiritual homes in religions or feelings. We have many homes. And yet we are alone in it all. I’m fine with that and so there has to be some sort of good thing. Opportunity and knowledge. It’s all confusing, but

that is the point: we do not get “It”, whatever the hell it is.

So what do we call home? This is what Kevin Spacey calls home:

I dunno if i agree with his existential thoughts, but i agree with his gratitude. Yeah.

Every time i go home now, it’s just weird. It reminds me of the double meaning attached to home, home does not actually describe what we long for. I’m not sure what we long for. I guess it changes. I’m just glad i am not history.

what do you go home to? do you return when you die? do you die when you return home and return to your former child? is it a place just like your workspace or school? what do you call home? how do you define home? is home where the heart is?


fuck fuckin pussy

In Uncategorized on 10/13/2010 at 1:23 AM

Since this is 321 launch for my blog, I figure that I should get a structure of sorts. It’d be helpful if I knew what this blog is about.

The last post was just me trying to be modern or something.

3 silly stories up, well that refers to my residence, 3 stories up and they are silly because everyone here is crazy but me! And they’re crazy because they think I’m crazy. In fact, they wrote me up (it’s like a bad star for college kids) for being crazy. See, we have this fatty ledge outside our window. I was in a green mood, and being green to this school that claims to be green and progressive, I decided to grow some greens outside my greenless (yes I know i am trying to hard) ledge.

I decided to build a ledge, i figured a 6×4 foot board anchored to the windows would suffice for my pottery, chair and watering can. Nice little slice of a green Greenwich (bohemian place in New York) sandwich right in California. But those homos thought I was gay! So they wrote me up. I should explain; in the recent 3 weeks, 5 faggets have been killing themselves, so they probably thought that i was. However, i was clearly not. I was sweeping crap off my ledge to build a balcony. (i should add, i live in dorms, which are utopias for 1984 dystopia fans).

They rushed up to my door and called me off the ledge. I ask why. They say “because we don’t do that here”… “well, obviously not because i am” But as soon as i saw the bitch in her eyes i climbed back in. “what were you doing out there?” “sweeping” “why?” “because it was dirty”, “well that makes sense, you like things to be clean” “yes i like things to be clean”. The multitude of pigs in the room glance about the pure putridness of the pigsty they had entered. This awkward silence was interrupted by a “we would like to take note of this event”, “you mean you’re writing me up?” “yes.” “okay, now bye” and they left.

that was almost entirely accurate. i kinda underexaggerated (the bitchiness was not only in her eyes, it was just one of those cutting, thin, thinking-she-is-a-go-getter-but-is-actually-doomed-to-a-normal-life, brunette, white kinda women who has bitch seething out of her from head to toe. i swear i got a boner.

speaking of boners, it’s time for a mission statement. speaking of speaking of boners, i went to a workshop tonight. the guy prided himself on being good with people and talking. in the two hours, he managed to insult everyone in the room. he was just too honest with everyone else, but not with himself. and because of that, the only hot girl in the room (the only girl in the room, when there is only one girl in the room, she is the only hot girl, no matter how ugly), was very turned off by him.

i loved him for it, because everyone in that room was a freakin weirdo.

anyways: mission statement. i think that girls are great, banging girls are great for banging. banging is great. but i think that in general, having pussy in your radar, or always being on the look out for hook-ups is just disgusting. i believe it is beautiful to preserve your sexuality, emotion, and intimacy for a few certain people. sometimes, things spark and something special happens with someone. i’m not big into denying spontanaeity, in fact, i am completely against it. but i am against orgies and drunk sexual passion.

As for me, I do not hook up and will not hook up with random vagini. i will hook up random brains however. maybe that’s what i’m talking about: brain emphasis. humanity is an amazing thing, leave mindless fucking for the bunnies.

in a sentence describe yourself

In Uncategorized on 10/12/2010 at 6:44 AM

in a galaxy far far away, i played starwars games incessantly and read the novels of terry prachett while listening to many songs of my father and his sons, foolish or not, after working hard on some unimportant school project that i forgot the instructions to because i was fantasizing about finger banging mary jane rotten crotch through her pretty pink panties assigned by a teacher with one inspiring, watchful eye that i tuned out in a scheme that coincided with my friends, fame, and plenty of get rich quick assorted with healthy food and innout.

im fuckin hecka hipster from so-cal who doesn’t understand why oedipus fails to resonate with the same heart that enjoys ron burgundy so passionately.

Yes, I know that none of that made any sense. That was a menagerie of nostalgic glass puffs, heated by my energy and given meaning by my passion.

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I am 3 funny stories up, I like stories a lot. Sometimes, it can be difficult to ground oneself in reality. People do not find escape from reality in stories, rather, people find sense in the consolidation of life’s ambiguities and can face life with a little bit less haze.

-love, me.