Thursday, September 23, 2004

I catch myself in certain uncreative moods (apparently uncreative is not a word--so I guess I'm at least creative enough to invent words). It's been worse lately. Routines a quiet but horrible monster. It creeps up on you completely non-threatening, and the only reason you know it's there at all is because to break habit is no longer normal.

Yesterday I packed a bag of clothes and my guitar and drove over to my dad's house. He's gone until Monday and I'm house sitting for him. This is the first time I've really been on my own since Australia. When I was in Australia I had big plans for when I got home. But when I actually got home I fell into a comfortable routine and forgot about what I really wanted to do. Being here alone reminds me of the things I will do, it reminds me stangnancy is bad.

I waste so much of my time thinking and not doing, writing but not feeling, and watching but not learning. I know I have the tools and the attitude I need to sculpt the world I want, I just need to take action. I think I'm going to give this blog a break for awhile, all I'm doing is writing things down.

Sunday, September 19, 2004

Abyss

I'm listening to 'Are you sad?' by Our Lady Peace, eating a homemade chocolate chip cookie, reading the definition of cynical from Webster's. (Cynical--believing that people are motivated in all their actions only by selfishness: denying the sincerity of people's motives and actions)

Hypothetical situation: You have the choice to feel a single unchanging emotion forever, or to feel no emotion at all. What's your choice?

I think about each day as a fall from grace, as a realization of my disillusionment of this world. I think that today is the day I will rise up and start taking back the world. This is all premature though, and I know things have to get much worse before I take the world back, before I'm motivated to make more than hopelessly marginal advances.

And so I think what would motivate me to change my life drastically?

I worked today for 2 hours before being sent home. Things have been really slow, and despite being hired for full-time; next week I am only scheduled for 25 hours (today I was supposed to be scheduled for 6). They're overstaffed. My manager suggested I talk to the owner. The owners made 15000 dollars last night over the dinner rush. Yesterday I served them. It's bad enough that my section is so small because so many people are on, but they have to sit in my section. Then they want to be served. But they don't want anything from the menu, and so I have to write down detailed instructions on how the cooks should prepare their lunch and then explain it to them (while I have other tables waiting that will actually tip me). They stay for hours, and leave nothing, and drive off in their Jaguars. I feel like they don't care. I know they don't care, because it's cheaper to force me out of a job or fire me and embrace high turn-over because they have so much money they can push me over with.

And I hate this attitude. I hate their fake smiles. I hate the fake smiles I smile back and the smug looks of shock from them when my face lets contempt slip through, and they are surprised I am not content with their belittlement. I most of all hate the idea that they think they'll make enough money to live forever, and that the people they're living with right now don't matter. I hate that this is a small corporation and of little influence, yet still displaying all the behaviors of the full-sized monsters.

This whole situation fills me with a potent rage. I hate working for them. I wish I could turn this around. I think; I can?

Oh yeah, I like BP girl again.


Friday, September 17, 2004

Muse

I visited my muse the other day. She's just a friend but time spent with her is quite thought provoking. I should clarify that it's not all hearts and butterflies; nothing of the sort in fact. She just has this uncanny ability to crack me open, and laying their-- existential evisceration covering the floor-- she ruthlessly picks at my bones. She is not the bearer of bad news though, I am my own undoing.

And what she tells me is to live my life less skeptically, less point A to point B, less goal oriented and more frame of mind oriented. She tells me that all I have done is let go--as a solution; and not, in fact, simply let go of finding a solution. She tells me my existence isn't a puzzle but a beautiful experience. Most of this she doesn't actually tell me, but spoons off of the floor and elegantly drips in front of me.

This blog is a hole.


Thursday, September 16, 2004

I think; I can. I think; I can.

Monday, September 13, 2004

Keep it together

So often I find myself in the position of wanting to write something huge on here. I want to write about my life, I want verification from you that I'm not crazy. I want to tell you about my worries, my ideas, my triumphs and failures. I want to describe to you the tiny details, and the enormous perspectives. I would like to share with you a huge web of thought, that doesn't come from any one particular idea, but is in fact an entire mosaic of ideas and nuances that compose me as a unique individual. And I suppose I had hoped this blog would allow me to spill all this out, but I seem to be writing largely about silly things. I like it better when people laugh.

Today's post won't be a laugh post. I was thinking about my mom today. I was thinking about how when I was away traveling I missed her so much. I phoned her often and we got really close, I told myself things would be really different when I came home. Since I got back things have sort of reverted back to the old adversarial sort of relationship. It's mainly me not understanding, or being frustrated that I'm not more sympathetic to her situation. My mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis while I was away and she didn't tell me until a couple weeks after I got back. She went through a lot while I was gone and pretended like nothing happened over the phone because she didn't want me to cut my trip short and come home.

Now I'm home and I just don't know how to react. I sort of shut her and almost everyone out of my life in periodic phases. I wake up late, work a long day, come home and say hello and goodnight to sis and mom, and then come downstairs and build myself and island with library books and blog posts.

Today I came home, ate everything in the fridge and then sat down and watched an episode of Friends (sis got a few seasons of DVDs for her birthday, I'm addicted) with my mom before she went to bed. She just started an MS workshop today that's supposed to help her to understand everything.

Now I'm listening to some Dave. One Sweet World. I'm going to spend more time with my family, I'm stupid to think the world will be changed by mildly-neurotic anti-social bookworms, it will more likely be changed by people passionate about other people--family is a good place to start.

Sunday, September 12, 2004

What's with last night's post, I hate being moody. I have the day off today, gunna work out, maybe go shopping (I need a new winter coat) return some library books, do laundry (no socks left) and clean some things around the house. Maybe later I'll come up with an anti-last-night post.

The poets are leaving.

The picture below is a photograph of the night sky that I took while traveling New Zealand. I'm quite fond of taking photos of the sky (day and night) but it doesn't make for exciting display....oooh look there's another cloud.

The titled phrase above is one I thought of while at work the other day. It disturbs me something fierce. It's a phrase that echoes more powerfully when I'm in bad moods. Like now.

Recipe for Pessimism

Open picture below, repeat phrase "the poets are leaving" and imagine state of the world. Repeat.



It's a perspective thing.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Snow

I'm not sure what's going on here, but I've been sleeping kind of well the last couple nights. It doesn't take me long to fall asleep and its deep and soundless and totally blissful. And it's not just during the night. I layed down for a nap this afternoon and didn't budge for three hours....err I hope that doesn't screw up tonight's sleep.

I woke up this morning (quite refreshed), walked upstairs to get breakfast and when I looked out the kitchen window--snow! We have sun flowers in our back yard and the weight of the snow on one of them had bent it to the ground. I love winter. I think I'll especially like this one given I missed last years winter because I was out of country (and in a much warmer climate).

I'm not sure what it is about this season that impresses me so much. I like snow. I like it's color (shade). I like the way it crunches under foot. I am envious of it's ability to cover everything in a thick white blanket on a regular basis-- I wonder what it would be like if I could cover all of life's insignificant worries and troubles with a sheet of shimmering white.

I posted some pictures from the other day.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Love over Physics.

Let me start where I am. I'm hovering over a bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with jelly belly beans and drinking a glass of milk. This is the stuff dreams are made of.

I just got home from having beers and cigarettes with physicists. We talked of the universe, of politicians, and of life's problems. And this is what I realize:

A) Love over physics any day. I'm glad I got to go for a couple drinks with Danny but I'm disappointed that BP girl didn't call me. I know she was working a split and that's likely why. But still.

B) My general line of thinking was this; Be passionate about something, anything. Don't be passionate about someone. That's bunk. When I walked out of that pub tonight all I wanted to do was be passionate about someone. I wanted to go home and curl up next to someone beautiful. I don't think it's enough to be passionate about say plumbing or electromagnetism. Be passionate about life, and about love. We honestly don't have enough time to own the universe, to make wars, or to steal dreams. We should be living passionately. We should be living. We shouldn't be working towards an end...The ends never come.

I have more to say, but it will have to wait. I think I might sleep alright tonight.

PS I bought these awesome glasses today, i'll post 'em when they come in (in like two weeks, or when this blog starts working as it has apparently broken down and refused to post anything)

In the waiting line

By Zero7 (from garden State sound track)

My first day off in what seems like weeks. Didn't sleep well last night but that won't stop me from making the most of today (why should today be any different from all others?). I haven't been to the gym in three days, I'm gunna hit that up first. I'm going to go take a look at some more beds and hopefully buy one this time (sleeping sucks). I also need to get an eye exam so I can get an up to date prescription for some new glasses. I hope they can fit me in today sometime.

I'm gunna take my camera with me everywhere today and post some new pictures later on. It's been too long, and I really love taking pictures.

And tonight hopefully BP girl will give me a call and we'll go check out Napoleon Dynamite again, she has to work though and tonight is 'pasta Tuesday' so we might end up going some other night this week. Cool. And if not then Danny just got back from the Gorge (Dave Matthews concert in the states) and I could deal with a few beers with him.

A busy day. Carpe Diem.

Sunday, September 05, 2004

Napoleon Dynamite

Napoleon Dynamite : [drinks glass of milk] The defect in this one is bleach.
FFA Judge No. 1 : That's right.
Napoleon Dynamite : Yessssssssss.
Napoleon Dynamite : [drinks second glass of milk] This one tastes like the cow got into an onion patch.
FFA Judge No. 2 : Correct.
Napoleon Dynamite : Yessssssssss.


Napoleon Dynamite : I see you're drinking 1% milk. Is that because you think you're fat? Because you're not. You could probably be drinking whole milk.


From Napoleon Dynamite.

It's a cool fall evening outside. The crisp air wraps itself around me and threatens to force out what warmth I fight to keep inside-- but I like it because it makes me feel alive.

Now I'm sitting downstairs in front of my computer. I'm wearing my warmest and favorite sweater, sipping hot tea and eating oranges (I feel like I'm getting sick). It's early and I'm about to go to bed but I thought I'd write out the last couple days of my life (I don't know why that seems funny to me).

My birthday was yesterday and passed with relative ease. I got an Iron and pillow from my mom (...Operation 'move out'--I asked for house goods), and a couple desk ornaments from my sister. I got the obligatory e-mail, and text message from my dad. Worked at BP's in the afternoon and spent the night with Steve and company hangin out and playing pictionary and writing a song on guitar. It doesn't sound like great fun, but I had an awesome time. Last year I had an all out bash at my favorite pub (Obyrnes on Whyte), but I ended up getting so drunk so quickly (birthday tequila shots!) I left unconsciously around 1. This year I wanted quiet.

I wasn't supposed to work today, but they called me in around 12. BP Girl was working. For obvious reasons (complete infatuation) I enjoy working with her. She was actually covering a shift for me today as my birthday hangover back up, but I didn't end up drinking last night. Anyways amid playful banter and witty repartee we we're talking about this movie we had both recently seen and loved. It's called Napoleon Dynamite and is absolutely hilarious. She's already seen it twice and I mentioned that I wanted to see it again. And she suggested we go together.
Me inside my head; "HOLY SHIT SHITTING HOLY HOLE".

So anyways I'm retarded for not sounding more excited to her. I kind of acted like it was no big deal-- but I wish that I acted as if I really was really happy she asked. I work with her again tomorrow and then I have Tuesday off, I'll ask her tomorrow if she wants to go then. Since I said it on here its written in stone... No more chumpish whining and complaining. I'll let you know how everything went next post. I hate how this is me gossiping, and being all dramatic soap opera-ish. It's really not like me. All apologies for this being a rather dull post.


Thursday, September 02, 2004

Trailing some new cure

Angeles- Elliot Smith.

I can't sleep.

It started out with green tea. I had read somewhere it has a huge amount of anti oxidants in it, and took to drinking a couple cups a day. Nevermind the fact that I don't even know what anti-oxidants are (doesn't it prevent cancer?). Anyways it happened kind of slowly I just wasn't paying attention, and now my cupboard is full of herbal teas. Chai, chamomile, ginger and peach, raspberry, etc. I guess I like tea. I think it will let me sleep better.

I also think a new bed will let me sleep better which is why I spent the last couple hours wandering around furniture warehouses staring at high ceilings. There are some comfy mattresses out there. But I don't want to spend $700 on a new bed unless I know I'm going to sleep better because of it. I think it would probably be cheaper to spend the money on prescribed sleeping meds.

here's the thing.
I am completely chemical free. I don't smoke, I don't drink (well I haven't been drunk in ages, but I enjoy a pint every so often), I don't do drugs (prescription or otherwise) Unless my head is splitting open and I can see the seams tearing I don't take advil. I'm stubborn. I eat as much organic food as possible. I work out everyday-- Everyday.

Yet... I still feel hugely unbalanced. I'm moody. Grumpy in general. Self loathing, but I enjoy it. I kind of wish I had a girlfriend, well actually I do, and if I woke up next to BP girl tomorrow I think I would be able to write songs again. I can deal with my moods and the world, and being girlfriendless (shagless) but it bothers me deeply that I can't sleepwell. Unconsciousness is a sweet escape, and when that is gone it gives me too much time to contemplate the horrible circumstances of my life and everyone else's, and thinking that way it seems like we're all clubbing baby seals and spitting on homeless people.

I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.


Wednesday, September 01, 2004

From Garden State

Sam : Hey, I recognize you.
Andrew Largeman : Ooooo, from Columbia High?
Sam : No not from high school, from T.V. Didn't you play the retarded quarterback?
Andrew Largeman : Yea.
Sam : Are You really retarded?
Andrew Largeman : No
Sam : Oooo, great job man I really thought you were retarded. I mean, you're better than that Corky kid and he's actually retarded. If there was a retarded Oscar you would win, hands down, kick his ass!