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| Tuesday, February 10th, 2009 | | 1:05 pm |
| | Monday, April 16th, 2007 | | 4:46 pm |
Thirty-three people are dead from a shooting at Virginia Tech at the time I wrote this. You might think I'm tempted to chock this up as another loss of hope in humanity - a huge one - and leave it at that. So do I. But recently my mom said something to me. She told me that there is goodness in this world. I just don't look for it. Combine this with the fact that I am extremely susceptible to reverse psychology... and this event just makes me look for the good things in this world. Something horrible has happened, and that's all we see. This event has shown me that. Whenever something bad happens, we invest our attention into it. It's the shock value. But there are so many bad things that we miss. Likewise, there are so many more good things that we (I, at least) overlook, as well. Think of anything good - any little thing - and post it in a comment. Don't give a care if someone else said it. Say as many things as you want. Anything good. | | Wednesday, April 11th, 2007 | | 8:50 pm |
Ripples.
I had a meeting with my psychologist today. That is not exactly the important part of this story. But the place I go to see him has a path along the river behind it. On a whim, I decided that I would walk this path for a while, because I had nothing else to get done, and I had never done it before in all the years I've been going to this place. As I walked, I felt somewhat rushed. I didn't have anywhere I urgently needed to be, but just being away from somewhere where someone could contact me made me feel uneasy. I knew no one was going to, though. I liked it that way. Thoreau loves his solitude and so do I. I had no idea how far the path went. But I kept walking. I met a man with two young teenagers and a dog on the way. He was apologetic for the dog. "The only thing he will do is lick ya to death." I try to practice a habit of thinking before I speak. I did it successfully this time, and replied, "I'm not afraid." You know when you see a happy dog, and when you see a mean one. It was very happy. Even before this I was throwing rocks into the river. I had begun a practice, not long before seeing the man, of walking alongside the ripples that the rocks made. It was really relaxing, actually. I felt as if I was going at nature's intended pace, walking at its speed. I looked around as I walked, as well, trying not to concentrate totally on the ripples of the water; they were just a pacer. But then I looked back. They had gotten ahead of me. At first, I tried to speed myself up, and catch up. When it happened again, I let it; I realized that I should just go at my own pace. And for a moment I felt like I had transcended nature. I had somehow become more than it; I had beaten it, and gone slower than it, and was beginning to see everything about it that nature itself might not even have known. Then, as I walked, I came to a part of the river where I could see the waves from its natural flow. It was traveling in the other direction, I remembered. So nature was still better than me. Not so much that it could travel back in time, and gather what it had forgotten; nothing could do that. But I guess, it never forgets anything. Everything that happens is supposed to happen. Something like that, I guess. | | Saturday, March 24th, 2007 | | 10:00 am |
Thoreau inspires some great thought. "It would be some advantage to live a primitive and frontier life, though in the midst of an outward civilization, if only to learn what are the gross necessaries of life and what methods have been taken to obtain them..." A quote from the first chapter of Walden. And I've definitely had thoughts almost exactly like this, but seeing that someone else agrees caused me to think more. I would like to live like he did for a time, out in the woods, relying on myself and what I can find for survival. It would definitely show me what is necessary, and what isn't. Once I've learned that, I can spend the rest of my time enjoying myself, and perhaps even that time spent on the necessities. Then I realized that it's not that I've always thought my schoolwork was one of those necessities. I'm a little obsessed with my work, and I let it cause me great stress, thinking that I'll be an absolute failure if I don't show myself to be one of the best. But I know somewhere inside that it really isn't going to ruin anything if I don't do it. Even if the universe ended, if I forgot to hand in an English assignment, I probably wouldn't care. You can all deal with it. ... ... I do, however, want to show myself as one of the best, or at least just as a decent person. And I've been dragged into this society's rating system of grades, salaries and the like. Even when I know that I have the right idea (if it is only right for me), I go along with all the rush and noise of this system, trying to prove myself within it, when what I really want is to prove... that I can get along without it. But I know, I know no one would notice me if I did. Few seemed to notice Thoreau in his day... | | Tuesday, February 6th, 2007 | | 8:48 pm |
For the first time in my life there is now a plant in my room. I can feel the space brightening already. It is a Dracaena marginata, a Dragon Tree. The tops of the stalks have erratic, convoluted growth. I think it might be because of too much light. Dracaenas, I've learned, are meant to be grown in low-light conditions; this plant has been growing on the porch, which has enough windows to be considered a conservatory. I placed it near my window, but I think that should soon change. | | Monday, February 5th, 2007 | | 5:25 pm |
Ego is in direct relation to number of comments. | | Sunday, February 4th, 2007 | | 12:32 pm |
If you're a fairly cool person, and you're attractive, then you're "interested." If you're not an interesting sort, and even rather unpleasant to the eye, then you're "perverted." I am referring to being caught looking at someone of the opposite sex. I get the impression that an unattractive man, looking at an attractive woman, is much less forgivable than when the roles of attractiveness are reversed. That's a sidetrack from the topic I truly wish to bitch about. That would be, of course, the fact that I'm ugly. Inside and to a greater degree outside. This is my journal so I'm going to be a self-centered ass. It would probably be deemed that this is not a deviation from my normal demeanor in face-to-face association with other members of the race. Nonetheless I shall continue. There are plenty of things about me that I could change, they would all say. But if I have to work myself to the bone to be an "interested" person rather than "perverted," then what good am I in any sort of relationship, eh? Why bother with me when there are plenty of people, with good genes, who just naturally have that positive aura - and genuine attractiveness - about them? And you would say this is yet another one of my pointless, self-deprecating ramblings based upon no evidence or fact. But I once thought I liked someone, not all that long ago, who I might have gotten along with. And she even seemed tolerant of how I appear on the outside. I built a considerably decent relationship with her, over the course of about two years. Then someone came out of nowhere, as I felt I was getting somewhere, and they are a couple now. And they have been. And they will be. All things considered, I had no chance from the outset. It was a doomed endeavor from the conception of the idea. I am lowly, uninspired and uninspiring, plainly not remarkable, perhaps even hardly noteworthy. And this man who caught her fancy at first sight, he is almost everything a person should be. Slender and strong, with a charming personality in the center. Snap your fingers and it's love. Have not people said that love is work? Does it make sense? People seem to find this so-called love at a glance. And where am I right now? Numerous attempts I have made have brought nothing to fruition. If I try to push people away, which I often do, I will push them away. Should the opposite be true? When I tried to be friendly with a more recent interest, I just became overbearing. Now when I look at her, not only does she somehow know and feel uncomfortable, but I feel a barrier between us, comparable to the separation between entire worlds. It all builds upon a soul. It becomes a stronghold serving to protect that soul from what is all around that could be of harm to it. And that is what it is; nothing, but harmful. Hazardous. Desire itself is dangerous. Desire of anything at all is a frightening force, with a purpose so cold as destruction. To Hell it will drag you. Straight to Hell. | | Friday, December 29th, 2006 | | 2:12 pm |
Got an acceptance letter from UMASS Dartmouth yesterday. Beat Sonic the Hedgehog about an hour or so ago. Didn't get the best ending. Gonna have to try again eventually. Unlike life. ... 'Cuz you only get one chance. | | Saturday, December 23rd, 2006 | | 6:22 pm |
Got a rejection letter from WPI on Monday. Beat Twilight Princess earlier today. I'm not sure if I'm bored or just sad about it. ... I didn't want it to end. Just like life. | | Saturday, October 28th, 2006 | | 10:27 pm |
I have returned from a religious retreat I was forced to attend. I had been waiting for this trip to come so it could be over. And the thing was just about what I feared: rather boring. Welllllll... except for a few parts. Like our skit about advertising our religion. Wow. I've never had girls on my arms before, and I actually refused a photo opportunity like that once. But whatever... never mind. I don't want to explain it. So the thing was rather boring... until the end of it. Each one of us got a big yellow envelope. Inside were a bunch of letters, letters from family members. And I didn't know we were getting it. And before we left we had to read them all. One from my sister. One from my mother - four pages. One from my grandmother. One from my aunt Connie. And one from my dad. And I was touched by all of them. The written word just seems to communicate thoughts better than in conversation. Even my mother's letter conveyed feelings that affected me stronger than ever before; she made a point of telling me that she left in the cross-outs and misspellings because the letter said what she wanted to say, instead of rewriting it. I knew people cared about me all along. And I felt it. But now I am more conscious of it. | | Sunday, October 22nd, 2006 | | 10:20 am |
People complain about how other people's journals are whiny and self-centered. Well what in the world is a journal for? A journal is a chronicle of one's life and feelings. It can be a cry for help if one wants it to be. And those people don't have to read the journals if they don't want to - I'm sure they don't, and just complain anyway. Well, sorry to them for being... empty shells void of emotion. Or perhaps too self-centered to care about other people for minutes per day. I'm out of place to say these things for a few reasons. First of all, I do complain when people aren't reading my journal. But I understand that it is a lot of pointless negativity and an emotional garbage disposal. Not only this, but I refuse the help that most people offer, because I want to figure things out on my own. Yeah, I'm confused. Also, I don't read anyone else's journal, so I guess I'm comparable to the "empty shell" I spoke of before. This journal is my place to whine, though. Even though I do it everywhere everyday anyway. | | Wednesday, September 13th, 2006 | | 6:57 pm |
No, I'm not perfect, of course, and perhaps my mind's a little weird, and perhaps I formulate opinions that people don't agree with, but hey, that's just my luck. Sometimes people form opinions that others agree with; and sometimes people always form opinions that others don't. Well, maybe you'll like this, despite whether or not it is "true" for you: Happiness. There is no such thing as "fake" happiness. Happiness is happiness. Besides happiness, there are essentially two things which either make or break happiness: lies and truth. Sometimes the truth hurts, and sometimes lies don't. And they can both switch roles, depending on the situation. And on the subject of lies and truth, there is one thing that is certain: lies are tools, designed to make happiness or break it, depending on the whim of the tool's user. Lies are tools, and the truth - ... ... ... The truth... The truth transcends use. The truth is there; the truth is what is. Those fortunate enough to be made happy by the truth - ... Well, I guess if you like the truth to be told, rather than lies, you appreciate happiness caused by truth more than lies that make you happy. ... Does the truth make you happy in any occasion? Even if you feel... sad, or otherwise, by the truth, are you still happy that it is known? Talk about it. | | Friday, September 1st, 2006 | | 5:58 pm |
FOR MY PARENTS!
That's why I do anything! FOR MY PARENTS. And that's why I don't do everything. I saw an ad for that movie "Crank." About a guy who has to keep his adrenaline going or the drug that someone put in his body will kill him. One of the things he does for an adrenaline rush is sex. I told my sister, who was there, "Yeah, that movie looked interesting... until they got to the sex." She was like, "It's one way to get your adrenaline going." I yelled, "Sex is boring!" Ten seconds later, my mom looks at me and says, "How do you know?" Call me nuts, but I... I'm thinking that she would be shocked if I wasn't a virgin. She doesn't want me having sex, it seems. So there we go, a decent reason! Whee. ... fuck everything. | | Tuesday, August 29th, 2006 | | 7:32 am |
A few weeks ago I had a particularly venemous conversation with someone who doesn't need to be named. But the point is that... these were here exact words: "You're just a weird, fucked up person" After she told me how creeped out I make her, her friends and her mother. Well I've always been instigating people to get mad at me. Now that it's finally worked I think I've learned how stupid it is. The depression I always keep myself in is this twisted sort of one that actually suits me in a way and keeps me comfortable. But the pain her words caused me makes me know what true depression really is... or was. ... That's all. Knowing me, though, I'll never change. | | Sunday, August 13th, 2006 | | 2:22 pm |
The power of money seems little.
100 dollars in 4 days, and if not that, more. I have no control, it seems. None at all. I can't believe it went that fast. Well... it all went to good use, when I recall. I'm just amazed that the cost of living really is so great... especially when you've got your own money to spend. Money should not be an object for me... No, for anyone. I wish it wasn't a factor for anyone... For people who have no money because they choose not to work, however, I have little sympathy. (I say CHOOSE not to work - if they can't find a job, that's not their fault.) If they choose not to be a help to anyone, then what do they deserve? If they can't profit from the ways they help, however... a great deal power to them, I say. Selfless sacrifice. It's better than what I've been doing... going out to work for the sake of money. I don't even like my job. I swear I'm going to find something I want to do for a living. Something I never want to put down. | | Sunday, July 30th, 2006 | | 9:51 pm |
Golden skin. It shines, your skin. Radiance. Gold has radiance, so it is coveted by man. ... Gold is different from other things, in their eyes. It is superior. Just like radiant skin. Radiant beauty. Gold has radiant beauty. This somehow gives it a value. And takes value from other material. Like the less radiant people of the world. They are treated like they are not gold. Golden skin. That's what you have. But even more, perhaps. I'd like to say I want the gold that's in your mind. But I'd not stick around if the package wasn't wrapped, with that golden skin. (I'm sorry...) | | Monday, July 24th, 2006 | | 9:00 pm |
| | 8:07 pm |
I talked to a co-worker about girls today, and how to go about getting a girlfriend. He says that I have to take action myself, and that I can't wait for anything to happen on its own, because it won't. He provided an example: something to the effect of, "Just... the next time you're at the mall" (I gave a "puh, the mall") "and you see a girl you think is... hott..." (Like he was uncomfortable about using that word - that makes me happy, anyway) "Just walk up to her and make small talk, be like, 'Hey, how's it going?'" (I mentioned how lame I thought that'd be, and how much I hate small talk.) "And then, just be like... 'So, you doin' some shopping?'" (Something to that effect... I concealed my thoughts of the horrible direction I thought that example was going.) They all only try to help, but I keep saying that I'm all set how I am, that I'm perfectly content, and that I don't need a girlfriend. But he says, "Yes you do; trust me, you do. It's the most amazing thing in the world." Everyone says that. And that's the problem: everyone says that. I don't want other people's opinions; I'm a stubborn, selfish bastard who likes to develop his own interpretation of things. But the problem is, when you can't relate to people, you can't really make sense of each other... it becomes difficult to discuss ideas. ... All the greatest minds of our - Well, not even our time, but across history... They've all been misunderstood. But when their facts were realized by others, then it was accepted that their discoveries were... important. And true. And even useful. I want to discover something. I want to see - I want to find, and show to everyone else, something that has never been seen before. And thus, I try to be different from everyone else - to show them something new, something they haven't seen. That's what I think about now, when I consider "love." It's been done; I need to find something new. There's got to be something bigger out there, now. Humanity has come so far, and the way I see it, its entirety is becoming lazy. Even I have it. I'm as guilty as the next one... and it's time to change that. Just because I don't see a point in progress doesn't mean I shouldn't make it. It's all going to end someday, but damn it, we should keep busy until the end. So I guess, to each their own way of doing that. If love is your thing, so be it. Mine's gonna be science. | | 8:04 pm |
I could barely feel it, that feeling Homer must have felt. In the strange circumstances which revealed his "love" for Candy to her. I knew what it was, though, and I knew that it will cause them both a lot of pain down the road. Well, as it says in the book, "We'll just wait and see." I always have a trouble with anticipating things in a book. Events in books are set and will never be changed. Anticipation of something that is already decided, is quite strange in my opinion. Wow. That time, the words just flowed... and they all made perfect, clear sense and communicated exactly what I wanted to. I'm impressed with myself. | | Saturday, July 22nd, 2006 | | 11:36 am |
I know what's wrong. What's been wrong.
I want to help people. If I could find an outlet to help people, I'd be so much happier than I am now. That's all I want to do. This paid job isn't giving me any satisfaction. I should do something volunteer. And something I'd enjoy a little more. I don't know if I wanna work in a soup kitchen or something like that. I want to find something that'll help me get away. Help me take a risk or something. I sit around too much - I'm stuck here too much. ... What is it? What am I missing? |
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