In The Truth: Part I, we covered the greatest problem facing America's youth, all in a single sentence. This time, we're going to cover a much broader range of topics.
I've found that I'm particularly prone to limerence, when I become infatuated with somebody. Limerence is a particular type of infatuation with a few unique markers. The primary marker is intrusive thoughts of the limerent subject. That is to say, thoughts of them pop in randomly during the day. It's fine if thinking of them isn't depressing, which is rare. Another marker is an unusual emphasis in your mind on what your crush thinks of you. Now, I generally don't give a shit what people think of me, so when I have an actual connection to somebody, say, every couple of years, it's rather disconcerting to suddenly want to/need to watch my mannerisms, appearance, and words. I just think that things would be so much easier if I were able to base my relationships on a comfortable antipathy, instead of just totally falling for a woman every couple of years.
I know only 2-3 people read this, but I'm totes bored. In recognition of the name of this blog, anybody who asks me a question as a comment to this blog will get a completely honest and straightforward answer in a private message.
"I don't know, I kind of like him. He's the exact opposite of everything I really hate. In a way, he's such a clueless dork, he's almost kind of cool."
"That guy is many things, but he's definitely not cool."
-Ghost World
"What's good about sad?"
"It's happy for deep people."
-Doctor Who - "Blink"
"But I tried, didn't I? Goddamnit, at least I did that."
-Randle Patrick McMurphy - One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
"You can sleep here if you want but it would only be sleeping, Harry... if that's gonna frustrate you."
"...Let's see."
-Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
"You hear what I said, Miss Kubelik? I absolutely adore you."
"Shut up and deal."
-The Apartment
Between 3:00 and 5:00 am, I am at my most efficient. Most of my work gets done in these hours. I only ever clean my dorm room during this period. Most of the time, that's laundry time too. I can't say that I think more clearly, because I really don't. As I type this I feel muddled and slow. If anything, I'm only still awake because I have both a blog and a ton of laundry to finish. I am far more of a realist in these active hours. Much more practical, nothing like my usual quixotic if misanthropic self. I wonder if these are the hours in which my grown-up side comes out. I do my work, I don't daydream, and I can suck up my anger/whatever. It's pretty horrific, but I guess it has to happen to all of us sometime.
I don't think it's any secret that people will idealize those they're infatuated with. Bad habits, personality flaws, and such become endearing. Positive attributes are enhanced in the mind of the pursuer. Often, too, attributes are added which simply aren't there. Example: a girl once compared me to Mr. Darcy, from Pride and Prejudice. I'm manly, so I didn't know what the hell she meant. My contacts in the gay community told me that Mr. Darcy is the "intellectual's wet dream". Darcy is a guy who is commonly thought to be an arrogant prick, but who is in fact like, so totally perfect. The Edward Cullen of Victorian chick-lit. Naturally, it's the same woman who later told me I reminded her of a Byronic hero (she was well read, which is hot, but seriously). This is maybe closer, but still pretty far off. A Byronic hero is, essentially, a guy who actually is a prick, but is so interesting that he makes up for it. She had the first part right. A Byronic hero is something all smart, arrogant, but socially awkward men wish they were. I'm sure men like that exist, but I'm sure not one of them. One way or another, we all find ways to date our perfect person, even if it's a self-delusion. For my part, I tend to think women are so very much smarter than they are, as justification for wanting to have sex with them. I can only think of one, maybe two women I've been attracted to who actually were as smart as I told myself they were at the time of attraction. This whole self-delusion thing has worked to continue the species, and as the bottom of the barrel, I can't complain too much. It's just something to think about.
Here's what bothers me. Here's what keeps me up. Just how long do I have?
Monday, January 18, 2010
Reposts, vol 5
When I do quotes in these blogs, which I do constantly, I don't just choose them out of the blue. All of them are from works or people I find enjoyable, and give insight to what I'm trying to put down. It is so much easier for me to speak through the words of others, especially since I'm an awful writer.
I'm a pack rat. I assign sentimental value to things which in no way deserve it. Sometimes, though, this works to my advantage. On my phone I have three text messages saved, which I can't imagine getting rid of in the near future. One is a "happy birthday...negro" from my dad, which he remembered even though he was traveling for most of that day. I keep it because I'm kind of a sap. I will fuck you up if you make fun of me for it. The other two I keep are much more recent. They're from a woman. Each text serves an opposite purpose to the other. One is good for a quick burst of joy. It makes me grin like an idiot, if only for a moment. The other serves to temper me. I've always operated under the idea that each good day is balanced out in your life by at least one bad day. It doesn't do to be happy for any lengthy period of time, because when things balance, as they eventually do, you might as well contain the damage. So when I'm feeling particularly pie in the sky, I take a look at that little message and I'm back to neutral, which is where we should all be anyway. It's healthier.
"A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world."
-On the Road
"A lot of schools were home for vacation already, and there were about a million girls sitting and standing around waiting for their dates to show up. Girls with their legs crossed, girls with their legs not crossed, girls with terrific legs, girls with lousy legs, girls that looked like swell girls, girls that looked like they'd be bitches if you knew them. It was really nice sightseeing, if you know what I mean. In a way, it was sort of depressing, too, because you kept wondering what the hell would happen to all of them. When they got out of school and college, I mean. You figured most of them would probably marry dopey guys. Guys that always talk about how many miles they get to a gallon in their goddam cars. Guys that get sore and childish as hell if you beat them at golf, or even just some stupid game like ping-pong. Guys that are very mean. Guys that never read books. Guys that are very boring."
-The Catcher in the Rye
(Note: People who quote On the Road and The Catcher in the Rye are usually douchebags of the highest order. I am no exception.)
"He had passed visibly through two states and was entering upon a third. After his embarrassment and his unreasoning joy he was consumed with wonder at her presence. He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity. Now, in the reaction, he was running down like an over wound clock."
-The Great Gatsby
(The Great Gatsby is a book I have never read but which I know quite well. I'd even say it's my favorite book that I haven't read. It also has really awesome cover art.)
-Anthony Powell
Every religion is true one way or another. It is true when understood metaphorically. But when it gets stuck in its own metaphors, interpreting them as facts, then you are in trouble.
-Joseph Campbell
"Then somehow the country slid into worship of the idiot. Television is filled with stupid people being rewarded and praised for acting as dumb as possible. If you knocked an angry monkey in the head and gave it a job tending bar in South Beach, VH1 would devote hours of programming to watching it shreik and bone skanks. Even nerds aren’t nerds anymore. “Nerds” now are just hipsters that kept their Star Wars action figures."
-Eliza Skinner
"If I have a son, it’s likely I’ll be confronted with a spitting image of myself at the most awkward, miserable time of my life."
-Drew Magary
(If I actually put the Chasing Amy quote I was originally going to put here, I'd have to make the blog private. Instead, this not-at-all deep quote will suffice:)
"Archie is not fucking Mr. Weatherbee!"
-Chasing Amy
"I've got a really great compliment for you, and it's true."
"I'm so afraid you're about to say something awful.
"Don't be pessimistic, it's not your style. Okay, here I go: Clearly, a mistake. I've got this, what - ailment? My doctor, a shrink that I used to go to all the time, he says that in fifty or sixty percent of the cases, a pill really helps. I *hate* pills, very dangerous thing, pills. Hate. I'm using the word "hate" here, about pills. Hate. My compliment is, that night when you came over and told me that you would never... well, you were there, you know what you said. Well, my compliment to you is, the next morning, I started taking the pills. "
"I don't quite get how that's a compliment for me."
"You make me want to be a better man."
"...That's maybe the best compliment of my life."
"Well, maybe I overshot a little, because I was aiming at just enough to keep you from walking out."
-As Good As It Gets
I rode my bicycle out in the snow today for half an hour or so, and it was pretty awesome. I've always been a fan of the cold, and snow so rarely came to anywhere I've lived. I thought it was pretty interesting that all of these college students who live here, most of whom are away from home for the first time, and try so hard to give an impression of worldliness and sophistication, went out and played in the snow like they were 8 years old. I still hate all of them, understand, I just thought it was interesting. I go and exercise in bad weather because of the usual fat-person self-consciousness, but in this case, it was kind of novel to have all the people out there, even if I got a lot of weird looks.
Though, as usual, one thing bothered me. A big eff you to couples frolicking happily in the snow. See, cold is the natural ally of the fat loser. We feel comfortable in it, because nobody else is. Snow, though...it brings out people. We hate people. Especially happy people. And, as the prototypical fat loser with no reasonable romantic prospects, it sticks in my craw that these happy so-called couples have the audacity to display affection in weather which rightfully belongs to the socially awkward and obese.
I'm a pack rat. I assign sentimental value to things which in no way deserve it. Sometimes, though, this works to my advantage. On my phone I have three text messages saved, which I can't imagine getting rid of in the near future. One is a "happy birthday...negro" from my dad, which he remembered even though he was traveling for most of that day. I keep it because I'm kind of a sap. I will fuck you up if you make fun of me for it. The other two I keep are much more recent. They're from a woman. Each text serves an opposite purpose to the other. One is good for a quick burst of joy. It makes me grin like an idiot, if only for a moment. The other serves to temper me. I've always operated under the idea that each good day is balanced out in your life by at least one bad day. It doesn't do to be happy for any lengthy period of time, because when things balance, as they eventually do, you might as well contain the damage. So when I'm feeling particularly pie in the sky, I take a look at that little message and I'm back to neutral, which is where we should all be anyway. It's healthier.
"A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world."
-On the Road
"A lot of schools were home for vacation already, and there were about a million girls sitting and standing around waiting for their dates to show up. Girls with their legs crossed, girls with their legs not crossed, girls with terrific legs, girls with lousy legs, girls that looked like swell girls, girls that looked like they'd be bitches if you knew them. It was really nice sightseeing, if you know what I mean. In a way, it was sort of depressing, too, because you kept wondering what the hell would happen to all of them. When they got out of school and college, I mean. You figured most of them would probably marry dopey guys. Guys that always talk about how many miles they get to a gallon in their goddam cars. Guys that get sore and childish as hell if you beat them at golf, or even just some stupid game like ping-pong. Guys that are very mean. Guys that never read books. Guys that are very boring."
-The Catcher in the Rye
(Note: People who quote On the Road and The Catcher in the Rye are usually douchebags of the highest order. I am no exception.)
"He had passed visibly through two states and was entering upon a third. After his embarrassment and his unreasoning joy he was consumed with wonder at her presence. He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity. Now, in the reaction, he was running down like an over wound clock."
-The Great Gatsby
(The Great Gatsby is a book I have never read but which I know quite well. I'd even say it's my favorite book that I haven't read. It also has really awesome cover art.)
Self-love seems so often unrequited.
-Anthony Powell
Every religion is true one way or another. It is true when understood metaphorically. But when it gets stuck in its own metaphors, interpreting them as facts, then you are in trouble.
-Joseph Campbell
"Then somehow the country slid into worship of the idiot. Television is filled with stupid people being rewarded and praised for acting as dumb as possible. If you knocked an angry monkey in the head and gave it a job tending bar in South Beach, VH1 would devote hours of programming to watching it shreik and bone skanks. Even nerds aren’t nerds anymore. “Nerds” now are just hipsters that kept their Star Wars action figures."
-Eliza Skinner
"If I have a son, it’s likely I’ll be confronted with a spitting image of myself at the most awkward, miserable time of my life."
-Drew Magary
(If I actually put the Chasing Amy quote I was originally going to put here, I'd have to make the blog private. Instead, this not-at-all deep quote will suffice:)
"Archie is not fucking Mr. Weatherbee!"
-Chasing Amy
"I've got a really great compliment for you, and it's true."
"I'm so afraid you're about to say something awful.
"Don't be pessimistic, it's not your style. Okay, here I go: Clearly, a mistake. I've got this, what - ailment? My doctor, a shrink that I used to go to all the time, he says that in fifty or sixty percent of the cases, a pill really helps. I *hate* pills, very dangerous thing, pills. Hate. I'm using the word "hate" here, about pills. Hate. My compliment is, that night when you came over and told me that you would never... well, you were there, you know what you said. Well, my compliment to you is, the next morning, I started taking the pills. "
"I don't quite get how that's a compliment for me."
"You make me want to be a better man."
"...That's maybe the best compliment of my life."
"Well, maybe I overshot a little, because I was aiming at just enough to keep you from walking out."
-As Good As It Gets
I rode my bicycle out in the snow today for half an hour or so, and it was pretty awesome. I've always been a fan of the cold, and snow so rarely came to anywhere I've lived. I thought it was pretty interesting that all of these college students who live here, most of whom are away from home for the first time, and try so hard to give an impression of worldliness and sophistication, went out and played in the snow like they were 8 years old. I still hate all of them, understand, I just thought it was interesting. I go and exercise in bad weather because of the usual fat-person self-consciousness, but in this case, it was kind of novel to have all the people out there, even if I got a lot of weird looks.
Though, as usual, one thing bothered me. A big eff you to couples frolicking happily in the snow. See, cold is the natural ally of the fat loser. We feel comfortable in it, because nobody else is. Snow, though...it brings out people. We hate people. Especially happy people. And, as the prototypical fat loser with no reasonable romantic prospects, it sticks in my craw that these happy so-called couples have the audacity to display affection in weather which rightfully belongs to the socially awkward and obese.
Reposts, vol 4
I'm not usually someone given to displays of emotion, so it pretty much bugs me when my rational response is shunted aside in favor of some sort of self-hating quixotic kick. For instance: I know something to be true that I really wish wasn't. My rational mind tells me that any smidgen of hope otherwise is foolish. Yet...I can't help but hold out. It sucks.
My classes next semester, and why I'll fail them.
1. Writing in the Humanities and Social Sciences: American Political Film
-Unless we're watching Star Wars at some point in the class, I can see this as being one of those classes which I'm kinda hepped for during break, but which quickly becomes boring as shit. This is also a 9:30 class. I showed up for my 9:30 class this semester maybe 1/3rd of the time. It's way the fuck on the other side of campus, and I'll have to ride all the way back for...
2. Interpretation of Historic Places
-I'm really much more a fan of military history than personal history, but the military history class is at 8:55, which means I would never show up. Plus, the instructor for this class is pretty cool. Alas, he believes in utilizing my most stalwart antagonist: the weekly assignment.
3. Political Parties and Interest Groups
-I'm not even entirely sure that this will fulfill a degree requirement (maybe), but it sounds interesting. By interesting, I mean that it's going to devolve into the same idiocy every single political science class does. IE, Glenn Beck followers arguing with smug liberal Maher clones, not to mention the people who claim to be libertarians because they smoke pot. Ideally, the professor isn't going to encourage discussion.
4. 20th Century Europe
-I can't really think of anything that would trip me up in the class, but the professor's name is Dietmar Schneider-Hector. The fuck? That doesn't even make sense. I hate whenever my professors have hyphenated names. I sound goofy trying to talk to them.
5. Creative Writing: Prose
-I've taken one creative writing class, and it was pretty much a disaster. As usual I was tardy or close-to-it in turning in writing assignments. A great deal of my work was done on the due date. Most of the time, in composition classes and history, I'm able to make up for this by having better content than my more organized classmates. I was a goddamn C+ student in that class. I can knock out a dry research paper with little effort and get a B+ minimum. If I'm just given free reign, and have to (God forbid) use my shriveled, movie-and-tv-rotted imagination, I freeze up. So why am I taking this class, when I'm sure to embarrass myself further? Simply, I don't have to get up any earlier to go to it, it's only two days a week, and I already have a lot of junk on my hard drive I can throw out there in a true emergency.
Songs I've been listening to (because the space at the bottom is not large enough):
Southern Man by Neil Young - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJwS38YH1iw
A Woman in Love (It's Not Me) by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sm2JWykYZmE
Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black) by Neil Young - Like, no passable versions on YouTube.
Refugee by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFnOfpIJL0M
M4 Part II by Faunts (combo breaker!) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gISlB1IdUjI
My classes next semester, and why I'll fail them.
1. Writing in the Humanities and Social Sciences: American Political Film
-Unless we're watching Star Wars at some point in the class, I can see this as being one of those classes which I'm kinda hepped for during break, but which quickly becomes boring as shit. This is also a 9:30 class. I showed up for my 9:30 class this semester maybe 1/3rd of the time. It's way the fuck on the other side of campus, and I'll have to ride all the way back for...
2. Interpretation of Historic Places
-I'm really much more a fan of military history than personal history, but the military history class is at 8:55, which means I would never show up. Plus, the instructor for this class is pretty cool. Alas, he believes in utilizing my most stalwart antagonist: the weekly assignment.
3. Political Parties and Interest Groups
-I'm not even entirely sure that this will fulfill a degree requirement (maybe), but it sounds interesting. By interesting, I mean that it's going to devolve into the same idiocy every single political science class does. IE, Glenn Beck followers arguing with smug liberal Maher clones, not to mention the people who claim to be libertarians because they smoke pot. Ideally, the professor isn't going to encourage discussion.
4. 20th Century Europe
-I can't really think of anything that would trip me up in the class, but the professor's name is Dietmar Schneider-Hector. The fuck? That doesn't even make sense. I hate whenever my professors have hyphenated names. I sound goofy trying to talk to them.
5. Creative Writing: Prose
-I've taken one creative writing class, and it was pretty much a disaster. As usual I was tardy or close-to-it in turning in writing assignments. A great deal of my work was done on the due date. Most of the time, in composition classes and history, I'm able to make up for this by having better content than my more organized classmates. I was a goddamn C+ student in that class. I can knock out a dry research paper with little effort and get a B+ minimum. If I'm just given free reign, and have to (God forbid) use my shriveled, movie-and-tv-rotted imagination, I freeze up. So why am I taking this class, when I'm sure to embarrass myself further? Simply, I don't have to get up any earlier to go to it, it's only two days a week, and I already have a lot of junk on my hard drive I can throw out there in a true emergency.
Songs I've been listening to (because the space at the bottom is not large enough):
Southern Man by Neil Young - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJwS38YH1iw
A Woman in Love (It's Not Me) by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sm2JWykYZmE
Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black) by Neil Young - Like, no passable versions on YouTube.
Refugee by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFnOfpIJL0M
M4 Part II by Faunts (combo breaker!) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gISlB1IdUjI
Reposts, vol 3
"Fuck it, I'm not a knight."
-Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
Since the advent of the internet, men who have no luck with women have actually been documented to have higher standards than the ugly and fat men of times past. Why is this? Men who have no luck with women tend to be more likely to find their mental image of women from the media, be it through film, television, or Google image search. Since women who are found in these outlets tend to be in at least the 80th percentile of attractiveness, and they never talk to women in their real lives, their standards become impossible to meet, which in turn makes them less likely to ever interact with somebody of the female persuasion. Hypocrisy at its finest.
Myself, I'm subject to this, in that I generally don't have interest in women anywhere near my league. But then, given that my "league" consists of burn ward residents, octogenarians, and women who will need cranes to remove them from their homes after their inevitable, cheese-flavored death (like me!), I don't think I can be blamed. For the most part though, my standards are only really unrealistically high for intelligence. I won't seriously consider trying to woo a woman who isn't at least nearly as smart as I am. I'll flirt, or in the case of my first real girlfriend, fake my way through a relationship for physical gratification, but I probably won't actually give a shit if they aren't smart. Naturally, most smart and pretty women are taken by males superior to me in nearly every way. So in a sense, I'm sort of Zoidbergian.
The smart and pretty women left over generally are a bit fucked up. They're paranoid, or extra neurotic, or have an ex they've never gotten over, or they like to fuck anything that moves which isn't shaped like me. I'm okay with this, because who isn't fucked up? I'm certainly fucked up. My friends are all fucked up. Even among this group, though, I'm usually relegated to the evil and abhorrent Friend Zone (I wrote a blog about rules every homely man should follow to avoid this, but it came out way bitter so I deleted it), which is followed by me splitting and cutting off contact (gradually or suddenly, depending on how likely I am to be murdered for denying a woman of her free compliments-and-sympathy pet), because that sucks. The extremely small pool left over after this, those are my bread and butter. Unfortunately, I'm pretty awkward at the best of times. It's much, much worse if I actually like a girl, because then I get flustered and somehow manage to simultaneously over- and underthink my words. Since my words (and maybe my very pretty eyes) are the only real card(s) I have to play, you can see how this would mess things up. So yeah. I'm just bored.
-Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
Since the advent of the internet, men who have no luck with women have actually been documented to have higher standards than the ugly and fat men of times past. Why is this? Men who have no luck with women tend to be more likely to find their mental image of women from the media, be it through film, television, or Google image search. Since women who are found in these outlets tend to be in at least the 80th percentile of attractiveness, and they never talk to women in their real lives, their standards become impossible to meet, which in turn makes them less likely to ever interact with somebody of the female persuasion. Hypocrisy at its finest.
Myself, I'm subject to this, in that I generally don't have interest in women anywhere near my league. But then, given that my "league" consists of burn ward residents, octogenarians, and women who will need cranes to remove them from their homes after their inevitable, cheese-flavored death (like me!), I don't think I can be blamed. For the most part though, my standards are only really unrealistically high for intelligence. I won't seriously consider trying to woo a woman who isn't at least nearly as smart as I am. I'll flirt, or in the case of my first real girlfriend, fake my way through a relationship for physical gratification, but I probably won't actually give a shit if they aren't smart. Naturally, most smart and pretty women are taken by males superior to me in nearly every way. So in a sense, I'm sort of Zoidbergian.
The smart and pretty women left over generally are a bit fucked up. They're paranoid, or extra neurotic, or have an ex they've never gotten over, or they like to fuck anything that moves which isn't shaped like me. I'm okay with this, because who isn't fucked up? I'm certainly fucked up. My friends are all fucked up. Even among this group, though, I'm usually relegated to the evil and abhorrent Friend Zone (I wrote a blog about rules every homely man should follow to avoid this, but it came out way bitter so I deleted it), which is followed by me splitting and cutting off contact (gradually or suddenly, depending on how likely I am to be murdered for denying a woman of her free compliments-and-sympathy pet), because that sucks. The extremely small pool left over after this, those are my bread and butter. Unfortunately, I'm pretty awkward at the best of times. It's much, much worse if I actually like a girl, because then I get flustered and somehow manage to simultaneously over- and underthink my words. Since my words (and maybe my very pretty eyes) are the only real card(s) I have to play, you can see how this would mess things up. So yeah. I'm just bored.
Reposts, vol 2
"That's all I've ever been.
Cause you don't know me."
-Ray Charles
I loathe:
People in college who still can't quite grasp the intricacies of your/you're and there/their/they're.
Being the king of 2nd place.
The lack of control inherent in strong emotion.
All of the shitty early 2000's songs that Generation Kill got stuck in my head. (Curse you, Wheatus!)
Bayard
Christmas
The happy
Picking out gifts (to be elaborated upon)
The piano coda in "Layla"
This goddamn broken pixel on my laptop monitor.
"There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams--not through her own fault but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion."
-The Great Gatsby
I dread going back home. I love my family and all, even the ones on my dad's side who make me feel like a fuckup, but I'm already pretty close to raging out. More importantly, my grandmother now needs more care than ever, what with the hip replacement. There are three scenarios I can see happening here. The first and most desirable is that my family adapts well to this and my grandmother has real progress. The second is that my family asks me to take a semester off to help, which I really don't want to do but would. The third is that my residual guilt takes things to the point where I volunteer to stay, which is not altogether unlikely. So I dunno.
"...but the point is probably moot."
-Rick Springfield
I'm retarded at picking out gifts. Part of this is that, being a useless bum, I rarely if ever have the funds or inclination to buy gifts on Christmas, and I'm a pretty awful son and brother and so tend to forget the birthdays of even direct relatives. This year I've allocated funds specially for this purpose, which means I'll probably need to get a job next semester to help pay off tuition and housing, but I've grown tired of bum-itude. Still, I have no idea what would work for most of my family. I have a rough idea of what to get my mother, but chances are she'll buy it for herself before Christmas, and I can't be like, "Don't buy this", because I'm old fashioned and like surprise gifts. Since my dad is basically me but with a work ethic, I have a pretty good idea of what to get him, but no way to get to the mall. My brother, ehh, I dunno. The rest of the family give each other actual awesome gifts, so whatever I get will look crappier still in comparison. So far as friends, there are only three I'd consider getting stuff. One is decided, and it's a totally shitty and lazy gift on my part but sadly probably better than what I'd get her otherwise, since, as the opening sentence says, I'm retarded at picking gifts out. My BFF will get something cool but cheap, because he understands. The last, I have a vague idea of something she'd like, but is it not a total creep move to buy a gift for a girl who shot you down? I'm pretty sure it is.
"I want you to notice
when I'm not around
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?"
-Radiohead
I'm 20 years old, and frankly, I'm not sure what I want to be when I grow up. This is a pretty dire situation, since I am a grown up, sorta. My plan is to go to law school. After all, I'm getting a degree in history. My options? Pretty fucking limited. I can go to law school with a history, presuming my grades are high enough, so that's the plan. I'm not even sure I want to be a lawyer, but a JD can get you more than just a history degree can, so it seems like as good an idea as any. I've always had light political aspirations , but I'm not sure I have enough ass-kisser cred to do it. In Barack Obama's political memoir (regardless of politics, dude's a good writer, and he actually wrote his), he talks about having to lose the self-consciousness somebody naturally feels when they ask for money, because a lot of a campaign is doing just that. I can't even get over my self-consciousness about asking for help in a store. Not to mention that most politicians actually, you know, did stuff in college. Model UN, internships, etc. I'm content to stay in my dorm bitching on MySpace. So I don't think that dog will hunt. At this point, it's almost worth throwing all of my effort into becoming a space-faring bounty hunter.
"In my midnight confessions
When I say all the things that I want to..."
-The Grass Roots
Cause you don't know me."
-Ray Charles
I loathe:
People in college who still can't quite grasp the intricacies of your/you're and there/their/they're.
Being the king of 2nd place.
The lack of control inherent in strong emotion.
All of the shitty early 2000's songs that Generation Kill got stuck in my head. (Curse you, Wheatus!)
Bayard
Christmas
The happy
Picking out gifts (to be elaborated upon)
The piano coda in "Layla"
This goddamn broken pixel on my laptop monitor.
"There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams--not through her own fault but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion."
-The Great Gatsby
I dread going back home. I love my family and all, even the ones on my dad's side who make me feel like a fuckup, but I'm already pretty close to raging out. More importantly, my grandmother now needs more care than ever, what with the hip replacement. There are three scenarios I can see happening here. The first and most desirable is that my family adapts well to this and my grandmother has real progress. The second is that my family asks me to take a semester off to help, which I really don't want to do but would. The third is that my residual guilt takes things to the point where I volunteer to stay, which is not altogether unlikely. So I dunno.
"...but the point is probably moot."
-Rick Springfield
I'm retarded at picking out gifts. Part of this is that, being a useless bum, I rarely if ever have the funds or inclination to buy gifts on Christmas, and I'm a pretty awful son and brother and so tend to forget the birthdays of even direct relatives. This year I've allocated funds specially for this purpose, which means I'll probably need to get a job next semester to help pay off tuition and housing, but I've grown tired of bum-itude. Still, I have no idea what would work for most of my family. I have a rough idea of what to get my mother, but chances are she'll buy it for herself before Christmas, and I can't be like, "Don't buy this", because I'm old fashioned and like surprise gifts. Since my dad is basically me but with a work ethic, I have a pretty good idea of what to get him, but no way to get to the mall. My brother, ehh, I dunno. The rest of the family give each other actual awesome gifts, so whatever I get will look crappier still in comparison. So far as friends, there are only three I'd consider getting stuff. One is decided, and it's a totally shitty and lazy gift on my part but sadly probably better than what I'd get her otherwise, since, as the opening sentence says, I'm retarded at picking gifts out. My BFF will get something cool but cheap, because he understands. The last, I have a vague idea of something she'd like, but is it not a total creep move to buy a gift for a girl who shot you down? I'm pretty sure it is.
"I want you to notice
when I'm not around
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?"
-Radiohead
I'm 20 years old, and frankly, I'm not sure what I want to be when I grow up. This is a pretty dire situation, since I am a grown up, sorta. My plan is to go to law school. After all, I'm getting a degree in history. My options? Pretty fucking limited. I can go to law school with a history, presuming my grades are high enough, so that's the plan. I'm not even sure I want to be a lawyer, but a JD can get you more than just a history degree can, so it seems like as good an idea as any. I've always had light political aspirations , but I'm not sure I have enough ass-kisser cred to do it. In Barack Obama's political memoir (regardless of politics, dude's a good writer, and he actually wrote his), he talks about having to lose the self-consciousness somebody naturally feels when they ask for money, because a lot of a campaign is doing just that. I can't even get over my self-consciousness about asking for help in a store. Not to mention that most politicians actually, you know, did stuff in college. Model UN, internships, etc. I'm content to stay in my dorm bitching on MySpace. So I don't think that dog will hunt. At this point, it's almost worth throwing all of my effort into becoming a space-faring bounty hunter.
"In my midnight confessions
When I say all the things that I want to..."
-The Grass Roots
Reposts, vol 1
People will invariably abandon the reliable in favor of the novel. The easiest example to use is that of somebody who cheats on their romantic partner. New people are exciting. They might be smarter, or sexier, or more worldly. If it's about sex, they may be especially hung or stacked or freaky. Overall, though, I think it's merely that utterly indefinable newness which causes us to stray, with a hint of "must have the forbidden fruit", with the rest as window dressing. This line of thought entered my mind in a conversation last night. As usual, I was talking about myself. I mentioned the odd fact that, in one extent or another, each woman I've seriously pursued has been involved by the time I showed up. First real girl #1 went out casually with me for a while, before cheating on me with some big orc-looking motherfucker. Once she started going out with him, though, I was suddenly once again the cat's pajamas, the eel's hip, bee's knees, etc. That is to say, things only got serious with her once she was cheating on somebody else. Real girl #2, I merely charmed her into dumping her boyfriend before going out with me, so that we were both technically clean, despite some emotional infidelity occurring well beforehand. So in a way, it was refreshing, if mind-bendingly depressing, to recently get rejected straight up due to boyfriend. The moral decay of society isn't complete.
"With every word she was drawing further and further into herself, so he gave that up, and only the dead dream fought on as the afternoon slipped away, trying to touch what was no longer tangible, struggling unhappily, undespairingly, toward that lost voice across the room."
-obligatory Gatsby quote.
There's not much to do here at home. Even if I didn't lack a vehicle, there wouldn't be. Sit with my grandmother, try to get her to eat, try to stop her from unlatching herself from her wheelchair, carry her to her toilet, try to help her sleep, make sure she doesn't try to walk on her mending hip. As usual, it's depressing but necessary, and I rather like my primary family even if we annoy each other. Last night my great aunt died. She was 95, given three months to live several years ago, yet we were surprised. We were sort of prepared, since she'd been declining, but she was tough. Quite a few of my family members weren't particularly fond of her, or at least, had an issue with her. I only met her twice, she was nice enough, but then, I only met her twice. Given the intensity of the troubles with my grandmother and my family, I can't help but feel somewhat numb, which I'm pretty sure is fucked up. Having gotten used to the idea of two people I'm incredibly close to being incurably ill at present, I'm if anything sort of relieved that somebody in my family got to live almost 100 years with full lucidity and physical faculty. I hope that if I live that long, I have half that luck. Given the Alzheimer's and multiple sclerosis in the family, though, I think I'd be pretty okay dying at 60, 65 tops. Assuming I marry and start reproducing at 25-30, and don't space my kids out to a ridiculous degree, the youngest will be an adult. Ideally, they'll have even graduated college by the time I kick that bucket. I won't live to lose my mind, or my physical faculties, or burden my kids. Whatever poor fool of a woman I convince to marry me will still be virile enough to enjoy the rest of her life, given the miraculous state of modern medicine.
"What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?"
-High Fidelity (totally appropriate given that for the past couple of days I've been listening to "Jessie's Girl", "Creep", and other assorted sad bastard music nonstop)
I love movies, I love music, I love books, but unlike some people, I realize that the people in them are not cool just because they're sympathetic. Some of my favorite characters are utter twats. Jay Gatsby invests his entire life toward wooing a woman. His entire motivation for pulling himsebecoming a wealthy elite is to make Daisy his. When he's rejected, he has nothing left. The dream is dead and he follows soon after. Both main characters from Lost in Translation are arrogant and aloof. Seymour from Ghost World has let his social awkwardness rule his life, Enid Coleslaw from the same is selfish, somewhat manipulative, and cowardly. Are we seeing a pattern? Do I act like that because I sympathize with those characters, or do I sympathize with those characters because I act like them?
(I thought of putting a quote here from a shitty movie I've never seen before but which had the perfect sentiment. Alas, I have standards. If you can guess the quote or even just the movie, you will win a genuine imitation Marvel no-prize.)
"With every word she was drawing further and further into herself, so he gave that up, and only the dead dream fought on as the afternoon slipped away, trying to touch what was no longer tangible, struggling unhappily, undespairingly, toward that lost voice across the room."
-obligatory Gatsby quote.
There's not much to do here at home. Even if I didn't lack a vehicle, there wouldn't be. Sit with my grandmother, try to get her to eat, try to stop her from unlatching herself from her wheelchair, carry her to her toilet, try to help her sleep, make sure she doesn't try to walk on her mending hip. As usual, it's depressing but necessary, and I rather like my primary family even if we annoy each other. Last night my great aunt died. She was 95, given three months to live several years ago, yet we were surprised. We were sort of prepared, since she'd been declining, but she was tough. Quite a few of my family members weren't particularly fond of her, or at least, had an issue with her. I only met her twice, she was nice enough, but then, I only met her twice. Given the intensity of the troubles with my grandmother and my family, I can't help but feel somewhat numb, which I'm pretty sure is fucked up. Having gotten used to the idea of two people I'm incredibly close to being incurably ill at present, I'm if anything sort of relieved that somebody in my family got to live almost 100 years with full lucidity and physical faculty. I hope that if I live that long, I have half that luck. Given the Alzheimer's and multiple sclerosis in the family, though, I think I'd be pretty okay dying at 60, 65 tops. Assuming I marry and start reproducing at 25-30, and don't space my kids out to a ridiculous degree, the youngest will be an adult. Ideally, they'll have even graduated college by the time I kick that bucket. I won't live to lose my mind, or my physical faculties, or burden my kids. Whatever poor fool of a woman I convince to marry me will still be virile enough to enjoy the rest of her life, given the miraculous state of modern medicine.
"What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?"
-High Fidelity (totally appropriate given that for the past couple of days I've been listening to "Jessie's Girl", "Creep", and other assorted sad bastard music nonstop)
I love movies, I love music, I love books, but unlike some people, I realize that the people in them are not cool just because they're sympathetic. Some of my favorite characters are utter twats. Jay Gatsby invests his entire life toward wooing a woman. His entire motivation for pulling himsebecoming a wealthy elite is to make Daisy his. When he's rejected, he has nothing left. The dream is dead and he follows soon after. Both main characters from Lost in Translation are arrogant and aloof. Seymour from Ghost World has let his social awkwardness rule his life, Enid Coleslaw from the same is selfish, somewhat manipulative, and cowardly. Are we seeing a pattern? Do I act like that because I sympathize with those characters, or do I sympathize with those characters because I act like them?
(I thought of putting a quote here from a shitty movie I've never seen before but which had the perfect sentiment. Alas, I have standards. If you can guess the quote or even just the movie, you will win a genuine imitation Marvel no-prize.)
Monday, November 9, 2009
How cliche is this?
Main Entry: inan·i·ty
Pronunciation: \i-ˈna-nə-tē\
Pronunciation: \i-ˈna-nə-tē\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural inan·i·ties
Date: 1603
1 : the quality or state of being inane: as a : lack of substance : emptiness b : vapid, pointless, or fatuous character : shallowness
2 : something that is inane
The first post of a blog containing only a dictionary definition of its subject matter? That's a douchebag move.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
