Monthly Archives: September 2009

3.5

As I write this, I’m eating salad and macaroni noodles with ice tea right after a work out at the ARC. I have had no real provoking thoughts, other than I’m so damn glad my Chemistry Head TA is not that asian guy who has greasy hair and a superiority complex. Luckily, I have someone who actually grooms himself and is definitely not a bad specimen to look at if you catch my drift.

I woke up to my roommate telling me my alarm was going off, I shut it off and eventually missed “Military Conditioning”…6am fucking droll and early. I dropped the class when I woke up at 8am 🙂

I added “Writing in Health” it’s at 4:40pm, a comfortable afternoon class. I happily take four units midday then half in the wee bits of the ‘morn.

So, it’s seems my two hour work out after biology lecture has put a bounce in my step and a happier tone to writing today. Let’s just see if that persists.  I fear that this entry is not so thought provoking for anyone who has been reading from the past entries. Sometimes, though, a break from all seriousness is much appreciated and needed.

I may have to stop here since my bed calls to me and my mind wanders. I can’t make coherent and complex sentences about the meaning of life, the dreary state of what it means to be a university student nor can I comment on the warm weather without putting myself to sleep.

Until part 2 of this entry, Au Revoir!

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3

How can emptiness fill someone up? How can a void be so heavy to carry around? How can a glimpse provide thousands of memories? So many questions and really no answers, maybe it’s a fruitless search that should never be taken on.

I’ve passed through the last few days in a hurried haze, actively avoiding eyes. I feel sick. I’ve felt this way for almost three whole days. Nothing physically the matter, just feeling like everything I knew about myself is shaken. It’s scary when one must reevaluate almost every aspect of one’s life. Like it was all really flimsy and never had legs, when you swore it all really did and you could have taken a bullet for it all, but now you step back from the barrel of the gun.

I’m glad for one thing though. The stability and comfort of one’s good friends. P and J were people, two years ago, I didn’t know even existed. Now I feel like they are my only solid thing here. Glad for it. Hoping one day when we’re all out of this place, we’ll look back upon this place with fond memories and we’ll make more fond memories as Time allows.

Hafez: (persian poet)

From now on, that tall spruce has my command
Whose graceful stature uprooted me from the land.
I wish not for song and wine, unveil your face
Cause your beauty my passion’s fire has fanned.
No face can be the mirror of bridal chamber of Fate
Except one upon which stallion hooves stand.
I spoke of my secrets, said just be with your sorrows
My patience has run out, do you hear what I demand?
O hunter, leave my deer and let it live
Be ashamed of its eyes, with that rope in your hand.
My earthly life is feeble, weak, impotent
How can I kiss those lips, majestic, grand?
Hafiz, let your heart be tied by a hair strand
Madmen better remain in chain and band.

I don’t know why I chose this, I liked it. Hope you do too.

2

“Well, look at all those fancy clothes
But these could keep us warm
Just like those.

And what about your soul
Is it cold
Is it straight from the mould
And ready to be sold.

And cars and phones and diamond rings
Bling, bling
Those are only removable things
And what about your mind
Does it shine or
Are there things that concern you more
Than your time?”

-Jack Johnson, Gone

I don’t feel particularly expository today, but for the sake of keeping this blog up to date and to avoid particular obligations toward my physics class, I’m going try to make this an interesting entry.

It’s Sept. 24th, the first day back at UCD, Fall 2009. Spending the last night of summer with good friends, P and J, I realized a few things.

1) People who you think you’ve figured out are never the way you think they are. Their souls reach far deeper than any deep spiritual, emotional or intellectual conversation you can have with them. I believe only through physical hardship, emotional turmoil, intellectual progression can one being become closer in soul with another.

2) Someone’s naïveté is, sometimes, another’s denial or refusal, which can sometimes be called ignorance or optimisim. And, all around, someone’s realization is another way to deny or refuse; occasionally in a negative way.

Let me expound upon my statements. For the first I relate to my close friends I’ve made here. Two years ago I didn’t know any of these people. Over the years my eyes have seen many faces, my hands haven shook manys others, my mouth has spoken many niceties, my body present for many sad, joyous and difficult occasions. Think about it, two years ago, I didn’t even know these people existed, let alone did I worry, love, hate, was envious of them. It’s an amazing thing, communication and life. Both can bring such openness and such happiness to someone, but at a price. Ups and downs are normal and expected, but the feelings of when you are so high and when you are so low is something your parents, friends, family members can never teach you. You must risk to feel it all before you can tell anyone what life is all about. You must risk your neck, your heart, your head for something you don’t even know.

As out late president Theodore Roosevelt put it, “No man is worth his salt who is not ready at all times to risk his body-to risk his well-being-to risk his life-in a great cause.”

In commemoration to Teddy, I’m have already begun my conversion to risk. I don’t want my grandchildren…if I have any…to fall asleep to my stories about my late night tea drinking nights with my laptop and stories in my head.

My mind. Hmmm.

My mind is someone on its own. Always distracting me from my life. Always making me unsatisfied with everyone’s daily action or lack thereof. But it’s a hypocritical thought. How brazen of me to say so, right?

I profess to see change in the world yet only have done mediocre volunteer work and unsatisfactorily finished pet adoption week at the Petco in San Diego a few times. I say I hate to see the want of society in such plain dress and language but, with shame and sheer laziness to use better diction, I use the same slang  and my wardrobe needs a major change from drab and lazy to…dare I say it…fab and of my age? I profess my like so much to travel yet my own shoes have seen little of the world, I express opinions of books, of culture, of philosophy yet my stories or critic papers have never seen the light of day nor can I handle another’s criticism. I cannot even boast of the super culture that festers in my mind, for to be cultured one cannot be so critical, but would be so prone to being open minded and easy upon one’s sex, generation and humanity because one has so much UNDERSTANDING. I lack so much of this. How can one judge so harshly, dismiss people easily and yet yearn to let people see who they really are and welcome them without opening a door first? Is it fear? Is it caution? Is it cowardice? It is smart? What?

My heart. Such a topic cannot be discussed without revealing too much too soon.  Think of a medicine bottle you get from the physician when you get a severe cold. It’s tiny, so powerful, you covet it  until you use it and you get the effects you want, physically/emotionally/whatever and then you throw the rest out or keep it in a dusty closet and forget about it; only to see it again and remember when you had that really bad cold and proceed to be rid forever when you chuck it to the waste basket during “Spring Cleaning” where you welcome new bottles for those pesky allergies.

Sometimes memories, emotions or, even, people are treated like that. It’s really sick. To sum this all up, I have a very bitter aftertaste in my mouth…and I hope someone out there understands my metaphor.

Here’s the fun part of my entry.

What I’m currently reading:

1) Roger Scruton, Guide to Philosophy

2) Pablo Neruda, Poetry

What I’m currently listening to:

1) Kings of Leon, Use Somebody

2) Paramore, Ignorance

3) Silversun Pickups, Lazy Eye

What I recommend YOU:

1)  James Frey, Bright Shiny Morning

2) Pablo Neruda, from Las Piedras de Chile, History (“For stone was the blood, for stone the weeping, the prayer, the procession: stone was free will…”)

3) Stephan King,  Four Past Midnight: Secret Window Secret Garden

 

1

This entry was born in the early, warm, morning of a summer day still cloaked in Night’s shiny mystic. Inspiration came after too much consumption of carbonated sugar drinks and even sweeter Mexican candy rumered to contain high traces of lead. In the “new house”, nicely situated in the heart of very dusty mountains in Hemet, CA, my new permanent residence, I sit on the uncomfortably sticky  faux suede couch waiting for my bloated stomach to retract. I guess I may as well start thinking about the past and the future, better now than when I lay on my bed and shut my eyes hoping the Sand Man will come sooner tonight than the previous nights before.

The word path jumped into my view from an image displayed on this new blogging site  am currently using for the first time. It’s a very convoluted and inherently evil word…to me.

PATH.

At first, it makes you think one thing then completely morphs into a creature you never grew up knowing, sort of like that friend you had when you were younger and always assumed he or she was destined for an immaculate life, but one day realized  something went terribly wrong and now you avoid him or her when you see him or her at the supermarket. The word, PATH, seems to carry a sense of sincere ambition, almost divine. But what you  find is when you get the chance to actually step upon your “chosen path” it’s nothing more than a dark void always making you question your choices and confusing you, in addition to teaching you to forgive yourself for your stupid choices and conclude to “learn” from them, when really you just want to punch yourself into a state of unconsiousness and wish you never made that choice in the first place.

What’s ones” path” in, or of, life anyway but to be destined to sometimes enjoy their choices, which in turn “create”  this so called illusory path of life, yet other times find folly in them.  This, in turn, causes one to be controlled by this love/hate situation in which one unconsciously brings upon themselves. Maybe it’s a masochistic inner need one doesn’t know one possesses?

There are many things in this life we may or may not want and in the end they simply are JUST choices. What matters, or is the matter, is the impact these mere choices have on our personal and professional lives. Happiness, or be even, contentness, or, for some, eternal sadness and solitude, is the driving matter of what a path is. I realized life is just a collection choices made preemptively since we don’t know exactly what we want nor do we care sometimes care to heed the past or prepare for the future but what a lot of us tend to do is to wane in the here and now for as long as humanly possible. Some people hope, others pray, some don’t do anything and let bygones be bygones, but in the end, GUESS WHAT? It’s still a choice we MADE; Choices want no action nor do they need it.

Choices are all around us, what we eat, what we wear, when we decide to brush our teeth, how long we brush for, for fuck sakes, these little choices will be the epitome of us all. Not one, but the whole beastly bunch will combine in an ugly, and yet handsome, bouquet of failures, triumphs, almosts and never agains.

I don’t know what I want to say with this first blog, but maybe it’s this. It’ll be my first time I exhibit any sort of my writing to public view. This blog is meant for me to review and write about my daily life to any willing reader.  (It’ll ease me into  the ninth gate of hell known as “constructive criticism”.) I hope you are enthused, offended, curious and most importantly not put to sleep by me. That’s what institutionalized education and work is for.

Enjoy the rest of your day.