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Wednesday, March 14th, 2007
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6:51 pm
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Ryan Ward
Period 7
Journal: February 27 - March 6
2) This one time, this girl was talking in class and I absolutely “tuned her out.” It was ridiculous how out I tuned her. It was almost as if I had completely turned her off within my mind. Truth is, she was turning me off; her speech just failed to make an impression on me. I don’t mean to be mean or rude or inconsiderate, but man! Gee! C’mon!, so to speak. It was as if she was just randomly assorting words in a highly incoherent way. I kind of wanted to hit her. No, in fact.. I definitely wanted to hit her. Luckily I’m extremely non-violent. So… rather than hitting her, I simply “tuned her out.” I leaned my face on my palm, and kind of closed my eyes. This way, without my head being down, it did not appear as though I were asleep in class, which could get me in trouble. I often find myself accidentally drifting off to Slumberland. Slumberland is a magical place for me. It helps me escape from extreme heat and background noise and most importantly, boring speakers. Everyone is a boring speaker. I got new speakers installed on my stereo. The brand name is Boring. They are also boring speakers. I wasn’t saying anything. I was just trying to escape the extreme heat and the boring speaker. I try often to “tune people out.” The people become out-of-tune. Then I especially don’t want to listen to them. They are off key. I don’t have the key to make them better speakers. They are simply bad. They fail to entice me with their incapability to express original, meaningful thought. If I could, I would leave the class or cease to exist every time someone boring speaks. It is almost impossible to bear. It fills me with rage. I am, in this state, enraged. Essentially I am outraged about this. It is outrageous how outraged I can become! I hate writing about this. I hate writing about anything. She can’t see me getting super p’-o’ed. She can’t imagine me being ticked off. She can, however, imagine me being imaginative. I am assuming this. She says “obviously!” I say, “obviously-shmobviously!” You say you love me forever. I say… will you love me forever?
Free Write:
I am labeling free write, so she knows I am taking liberties. I have taken the statue of liberty and drowned her in a sea of my home. What am I going to write about, you ask, my dear? Well, my dear, I may just possibly quote you once or thrice… quote myself, many times… Please… say something, my dear. (“Alright, that’s your cue.”) “You can’t put me on the spot.” Oh, but I can! Ha! “You have to say something, so I can respond to what you say.” Oh but I can! “Oh, but you can!”… Giggle, giggle. (Insert giggling.) How delightfully, disgustingly splendid! (Go on.) “Hmmm…” “Hmmm…” “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not that creative.” This is gold! This is pure magic. “Hehe. It’s not gold.” “I didn’t say ‘hehe.’” “You writ it! You wrote it!” “I care.” That’s beautiful. She is an excellent, excellent, even ‘topic’ to write my whole ‘thing’ on. Journal entries for lame! There. I’ve said it. She agrees with me. “I think you should just take your journal entries you wrote for dramatics and combine the two.” I think that would be cheating! “You seriously aren’t writing everything I say, are you?” … “You’re an @$$.” I am no donkey, baby. I am not mule, mother. “Now you’re just making up more conversation.” How dare you suggest such a wildly inaccurate suggestion. (Alright go. Your go.) “*Long sigh.*” “Let’s play a game.” Go on.. I’m intrigued. “It’s called ‘Truth.’” This sounds similar to a game I have played for… entitled “Fruth.” That was a strange game indeed. Anyway, Go on, as I already said. “What?” Go on, as I already said. “It’s like truth or dare, but without the dare. So you just ask truth questions.” Okay. I’m in-terested. You may have the first go, being a lady. And I may have the first answer, or reply, being a gentle-man. “No I said you start” - times 3. Times 4, if you count the ‘you start’ part. I start? “Mm-hmm.” How many m’s are in “mm-hmm,” in total? “M-m-h-m-m.” Is there a hyphen? “No.” God! I cannot believe I’ve gotten all this! “*Much giggling.*… ask me a question. Make it a good one, that is intriguing… you know what I’m-a talkin’a ‘bout.”… “I didn’t say that, silly willy.”… “…ya silly, silly goose-head.”
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6:40 pm
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Ryan Ward
Period 7
Public Speaking
Week of March 27 - April 3
[Topic] 1) The Use of Filler Words:
Today I paid attention to every ‘filler word’ that occurred during every conversation in which I was involved. The first conversation I had occurred this morning in the shower. I started talking to the shampoo first. I could tell he was in a bad mood before I even opened my mouth. “Um… what’s like wrong?” I asked. Immediately, I realized how annoying these ‘vocal hesitations’ must have been for Henry, a certified professor of English Literature. He squirted his contents into my eyes. “OW! It smells like like strawberries!” I shouted in pain. He said “Well um… that’s what you get!… I guess.” I asked the George, my faithful, trustworthy hair conditioner, for some ‘back-up.’ He angrily head-butted Henry. They both died. Then I used them and threw them in the trash. Later a sanitation official with Branchburg Township’s Waste Management Agency approached me through my bedroom window. He accused me of illegally discarding of ‘a couple bottles into [my] garbage can.’ I told him I was too young to die. I didn’t hesitate in the slightest. He complimented me on this. Taking advantage of his distractedly pleasant demeanor, I poked him in the eyes and pushed him off of his ladder. Luckily it was only extended up to the basement floor. The one-story float affected him only slightly. Rubbing the bump on his head, he cursed my name vehemently. I cursed back at him: “Like… whatever the H!” That got him.
I had a job interview later in the day. I told the manager of Larry’s Seafood Shack-a-roony, “I’d really like this job.” He told me “I would love to give you the position, but I just can’t hire people who are unconfident. I would rather you avoid the use of vocal hesitations.” I asserted, “I’m highly certain of myself. I would like this job very much.” He threw me out, correcting me twice enthusiastically “I would this job very much.” I told him that wasn’t a funny joke. (I told me “That joke wasn’t even uh… funny… uh…!!!!”)
Clearly I use vocal hesitations quite often in my every-day speech. I am ashamed of this, darn it. I wish I could evaluate how often my friends use filler words, but unfortunately I lost all my friends recently. (I left their cages unlocked one day when I left for work. By the evening, my house had been ransacked, my valuables stolen, my television eaten, my wife defiled, and my friends liberated.)
Not only do I now react ‘differently’ to filler words, but I now react ‘violently.’ Someone said ‘um’ the other day while talking to me. Apparently he was collecting his thoughts or something. He was staring at the ground like a moron as if his thoughts were crawling around down there and he was following them with his eyes. Bending down, I said, “Here, let me help you find them.” I uppercut him so hard that I broke his jaw and his nose in one punch. He begged for mercy but I slaughtered him with my bare fists. (He’s dead now.)
[Topic] 3) The best listener:
The best listener I know personally would have to be myself. I don’t mean to boast or brag or anything. I simply exhibit every quality that a good listener should, and then some. For instance, when paying attention to a speaker’s speaking, I really pay attention. I do not allow myself to become distracted. I don’t focus on appearance or delivery, but I try to absorb a speaker’s message. I move in close to the speakers so I can hear very well and I take all my pills so my mind does not wander away. I don’t wonder. I listen. No loose, lucid, unfocused foolishness. No geese nor dragons in my head. I’m in a room with giants. I listen to them speak. I don’t just hear them. I allow my brain to process what they are attempting to communicate. As a listener, this is where I excel. I excel only as a listener. I have no other skills. I do however, practice that skill often. I am a mute; I do not speak. My lack of vocalization lends itself to increased amounts of listening. Why have I been forsaken so? (I hate listening. I’m dead now.)
Free Write:
“Citizens in their homes. Missiles in their holes. Citizens in their holes. The brightest night I ever saw, across an empty parking lot. No stars.” Missiles in my home. War in my head. Explosions in the head in my bed at night.
I dreamt of the maddest madman I’d ever met. He was not the maddest madman I’d ever met, because I only dreamt of him. My meaningless dreams mean something me.
I’m doing this one without her.
I’m doing the rest without anybody.
I’m doing everybody with everybody else. I’m doing everybody, and I’m using everybody else.
I have been relieved. (I have been achieved.)
“[I]’ve been abused. [I] don’t know what to say. [I] may never understand this affliction, although [I] feel the effects… The closer [I] get, the more [I] get confused.”
I abuse everyone I can, any/every time I can.
I didn’t do my homework. (It’s dead now. High school is dead now.)
College collage coming up.
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6:22 pm
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Ryan Ward
5/14/06
Public Speaking
Period 7
Journal Entries Week of May 9th-15th
I’ve got a machine-head. It’s better than the rest. Green to red. Machine head. I’ve got a machine-head. It’s better than the rest. Green to red. Machine head. I work for my machine. I work for my machine. Yeah.
Miss D. said I could do all free writing, which I appreciate. It makes me appreciate her instead of unappreciating her. In/for class today we went down to the local library locally located at the school. We weren’t there for books. It was the computers that tickled our appetites for learning. My fancy was tickled, and so I indulged in a healthy dose of knowledge and assorted fruititures. This made me all better instead of sick which I am now, again. I am sick now and again.
Oh where have I been? Oh where have I been? I feel I’ve been a’ gone forever. I’ve been a’ goin’ somewer. I ain’t known where’s my destiny, my destination a mystery. I wandered down hallways and called to my neighbors. I yelled of my past and revealed all my secrets. I stopped carin for my potential, I started workin’ on the truth. I heard the sound of the warnin but I kept on my walkin. I heard a roar and a crash but I fought off my fears. I yelled at a figure I thought was a symbol. I dug up the floor and I found my old clothes. I didn’t destroy anything, and I didn’t ever destroy anything.
I hoped that she worried about not talking to me again.
What’ll I do now? What’ll I do now? I’m gonna show all the people I can’t show anymore. They don’t show themselves round here, but I’ll show those who do. And I’ll feel myself right and I’ll think myself noble. I’ll lie on the ground and I’ll smile at the sky. I’ll sway and I’ll sing, I’ll whistle, swim, day dream. I’ll know some things and a lot of things I won’t. I’ll own/never get sick on/learn how to operate a boat.
And a hard rain will fall.
[Topic:]Do I Think I Am A Good Judge of Character? What makes a person a good judge of character, in my professional opinion?
I have been known to have been called ‘a real character’ on more than a few occasions by friends and enemies alike. This of course does not make me fictional, nor does it make me non-fictional. In fact, it does not make me at all. I really don’t have a character or personality about me that would qualify me to judge another person’s. In fact, I think it wrong for anyone to judge anyone.
I’m free writing again. I’m terribly tangential. I can’t stay on a subject. I’m too interesting and diverse and variety. I am variety all the time. We don’t have a lot of time on our hands however. If I’m not mistaken, we haven’t time. We haven’t any time at all. (‘etal.)
I wanna retire to a hole somewhere. Also I want a modest to generous weekly salary based on zero hours of work. I want this money and I want to hide it so no one can take it, but also I want it to grow more and more and bigger and bigger and I want all the money and I don’t care for anyone else to have any of it because who cares?! WHO CARES?! WHO CARES????
HENABEI, ENATTENTION, ENATTENTION, ENATTENTION, HOOWAHBAHTENALATENTION?!
Ees these eenuf? Iz thiz inuf? I hope this to be the nuf.
I guess it’s a strange paradox.
I find it to be paradoxical.
I don’t know how,
to do anything.
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| Tuesday, January 30th, 2007
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11:01 am - And if they don't believe me now, will they ever believe me?
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Religion is the cause of the majority of belligerence in our world.
An interesting proof:
1) Certain people believe that it is the will of their God, that they succeed.
2) They also believe that their God is omnipotent, and has the ability to make this [or anything else] happen with an effort incomprehensibly infinitesimal to man.
3) Some of these religions even claim to believe that God would prefer they not kill (anyone).
Conclusion
Here we have people voluntarily doing "God's work,"- an oxymoron- and supporting this type of 'man-handling' in their representatives (government, army).
Hey!, everyone say it with me:
"Dear God,
If you want me to kill any person or type of person to 'accomplish' something in your name, just do it yourself. You and I both know you could do it more efficiently, expediently, and accurately than I.
If however, you want me to kill other people for no reason at all (i.e. your personal enjoyment), either: a) Alright, I love killing people. I especially love killing my fellow man for you, God. While I'm at it, would you like a blowjob? b) You're a dick. Fuck you."
Dear everyone,
-If you're going to be religious: just stop ruining things for everyone else.
-If you're not going to be closed-minded, stupid, and sure: Amen, brother.
current music: The Smiths - The Boy with a Thorn in His Side
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| Tuesday, November 7th, 2006
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2:55 pm
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I had to do some philosophy reading for homework. Philosophy is probably my favorite class.
Here's a cool quote from Chapter 7: "Does God Exist?" of Nils Ch. Rauhut's Ultimate Questions: Thinking About Philosophy:
"The universe is just there and that's it." -Bertrand Russell
Here's a part I liked much less, and how I felt after reading it:
"William James pointed out in his essay The Will to Believe that in "real life" we have to choose what seems most reasonable and promising even if we have insufficient evidence. A person who avoids making momentous decisions runs the risk of avoiding life as well."
I contest that it is logically impossible for someone to choose to believe something about which they know nothing or have no experience. In addition, what the hell does it mean to 'avoid life' when one is indeed alive?
It unfortunately appeared in the only sensible part of the chapter (agnosticism), and was presented as a weak point to try to balance the viewpoints. In the other sections, Arguments In Favor of Classical Theism, and Arguments Against Classical Theism, the arguments for the existence of God as an omnipotent, omnibenevolent, personal being, and the arguments against the existence of such a God respectively were the weak points. The holes in those arguments were well represented though. There was nothing in the reading I'd never considered, but it might be enlightening for people who want to consider theism in ways they never have. I don't know.
Oh yeah, so I haven't posted an entry in forever. Umm. Life is pretty damn good on the grounds that I'm really happy with someone right now. Her name's Christina. I mentioned her in an entry almost a year ago. College is alright. I guess I'm not happy with everything and everything, but because of how good things are going with her, or "in my love life," as you might say, I couldn't possibly complain about anything.
I'll probably never post an update again. Haha.
current mood: rushed
current music: boards of canada - over the horizon radar
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| Monday, May 1st, 2006
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4:12 pm - strange to see how time agrees to slow down
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I guess Public Speaking is really an okay class, because my homework is journal entries, most of which can be 'free-writes.' I have not updated with text in some time. Here is my honest-to-goodness- barring the second, fourth, and thirty-eighth sentences- free-written journal entry/update:
I gave my speech today about a miscellaneous topic. I spoke of a personal experience I’d experienced. I think it went over well and that everyone enjoyed it. At least, I hope that’s what happened because I care about everyone’s opinion of me a lot.
Tomorrow evening I have to work at my place of work. The most laid-back manager is closing, who doesn’t care if we don’t really accomplish anything. The two other employees who I like the most are working as well. It should be one of the best nights of work I’ve ever experienced. I don’t imagine we will be doing much work.
In other news, I hope my friend Matt hangs out with me today. I haven’t hung out with him in a little while I suppose, and also I intend to be bored later. I believe my other friends are busy today.
“Here we are. We are anticipa- There it is!” …I feel as though I have not anticipated anything recently that has come through for me thereafter. That’s a lousy feeling.
I just finished a book today that I needed to read to successfully complete an English project that I will complete over the course of the next few days. I think it will turn out well because I think it will not be too hard. I feel like I really connected with the book in a way. The author is Albert Camus. I should say “The author was Albert Camus,” because Albert Camus is deceased so I don’t know who the person who once was Albert Camus is now. Relating to the main character’s feelings made me feel indifferent and sad. That sounds oxymoronic. I’m being honest about how I felt though.
"Look at it this way: you may fall and break your leg."
"And so… one leg is shorter than the other. Can nothing more be done?"
"This next song uh, my brother Mikey wrote. Um, it’s called ‘The Classy Penguin.’"
I like Mikey because I love The Classy Penguin, whoever he is. I doubt the song was really inspired by a penguin who was classy. I think maybe it’s a redundant term because all penguins are classy, all dressed up and down in their tuxedoes of black and white. I would never hurt a penguin.
Penguins are cool because they don’t make me feel as green as some other birds do. (Penguins can’t even fly.) Unfortunately, most birds can fly and I cannot fly. Also, most times that I feel green I end up feeling blue as a result. I felt red the other day, then counted to ten in order to calm myself. I used to feel golden sometimes, but I haven’t felt golden in a long time. I don’t know if I will ever feel golden again.
I had a dream I loved a girl, two nights ago. She loved me also. It felt astonishingly authentic. I felt happy.
Last night I dreamt a girl I really do appreciate was in my room. I know her, and I know she was not, but I kept trying to reach her and talk to her and make her think certain things I was thinking, or make her know those things at least. I would sit up in my bed completely, but thinking maybe I could grab her hand, if she were seated in the chair at the foot of the bed... maybe her arm or wrist, I remember wanting to touch her there. I envisioned it. She wasn’t even there. This happens once in a while. I hope it stops happening because I always feel a little bit pathetic the next day, and even at the time, I think. It’s strange because I can’t calculate the level of consciousness I was experiencing then. I rolled over many times, literally extending my arms in a very sad, flatly vain effort. I must have been a little bit crazy. I must be a little bit crazy. I even recognized that I was in my bed, in my room, in the dark. I scarcely recognized that it was the dead of night and almost impossibly improbable that I should be entertaining a visitor. I imagine my insanity could be entertaining to a spectator.
I can’t even reach her when she is around. I mean I can’t even make her know what I think, let alone make her think what I think. I don’t know.
(the future, wouldn’t that be nice?)
(if not now, whenever.)
current music: the books - an owl with knees (live)
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| Sunday, April 30th, 2006
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4:56 pm - don't get into it with me when i goosestep across the kitchen floor.
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| Monday, February 6th, 2006
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8:28 pm - i remember learning how to dive. i just had to go to the end of the board and distract myself.
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I was eating dinner earlier. I got up in the middle of it to use the bathroom. I felt I couldn't remember the last time I had done so, because it usually is not altogether urgent. Anyway I remembered something.
When I was younger if I really disliked a meal we were eating I would ask to be excused to the bathroom... and I would take a big mouth-full of it with me. And I would discard it into the toilet. I would do this sometimes even if I didn't also have to use the bathroom really. I always felt kind of bad about it too I think.
When my mom cooks for me it might be because she cares about me eating a meal she cooked for me. Or that she cares about me. I would feel bad to trick her now. I don't always finish my meals, but I thank her when she cooks and tell her it was good because it was. I like more foods now than I did as a child.
I get full pretty easily however. It almost seems abnormal, and I worry that it may become some sort of a problem. I am generally weak and small. I hope I get enough to function if I am wanting to keep functioning. I am always tired now.
current music: animal collective - i remember learning how to dive
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| Tuesday, December 20th, 2005
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9:48 pm
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^That is funny, because computers are asses. That settles it too. My writing is undeniably flawed. Anyway, on to the raw content:
If this song doesn't make me contemplate the meanings of life and love- each, and together- I don't know which will. (((I'm on a laptop so I can't insert accented characters.))) Anyway, it's really beautiful.
I had thought of some things... to say I mean. I think really they were actual phrased decisions in my head that I realized some time recently. I thought of them as something a third party could understand and appreciate in the way I intended them to be phrased.
I don't even know what I'm talking about.
I feel a little bit like an idiot about some actions of mine recently. I feel a little bit like an asshole about some of my other actions lately. Over all, I feel pretty much like a person and I figure I'm really selfish and also I exercise very little self-control at times.
I don't even know what I'm saying.
Anyway, I guess updating is overrated. I thought maybe it would be a good idea. Maybe I can't think of anything I wanted to say in the way I wanted to say it. I think I know how I am feeling about one thing or another and everything and all.
Nevermind.
(This is the worst journal entry.)
(I feel bad about that.)
I just changed the song, and it made me think differently. I listened to all of Sigur Ros's "Takk" (thanks sabeel) today, and that was it so far. Now comes John Lennon's "How."
"How can I give love when I don't know what it is I'm giving?
How can I give love when I just don't know how to give?
How can I give love when love is something I ain't never had?"
I don't know. Listen to the song, asshole.
Anyway, the point is "How can I go forward when I don't know which way I'm facing?"
That's the main point really.
I'm shuffling (songs) and skipped a few, stopping at "Oh Yoko." I want to tell someone with confidence at some point, "My love will turn you on," especially if "In the middle of a shave/ in the middle of a shave, I call [her] name."
Mike, listen to "Dustin Hoffman's Children Enter the Bathroom,"[ Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<not [...] [more>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.] ^That is funny, because computers are asses. That settles it too. My writing is undeniably flawed. Anyway, on to the raw content:
If this song doesn't make me contemplate the meanings of life and love- each, and together- I don't know which will. (((I'm on a laptop so I can't insert accented characters.))) Anyway, it's really beautiful.
I had thought of some things... to say I mean. I think really they were actual phrased decisions in my head that I realized some time recently. I thought of them as something a third party could understand and appreciate in the way I intended them to be phrased.
I don't even know what I'm talking about.
I feel a little bit like an idiot about some actions of mine recently. I feel a little bit like an asshole about some of my other actions lately. Over all, I feel pretty much like a person and I figure I'm really selfish and also I exercise very little self-control at times.
I don't even know what I'm saying.
Anyway, I guess updating is overrated. I thought maybe it would be a good idea. Maybe I can't think of anything I wanted to say in the way I wanted to say it. I think I know how I am feeling about one thing or another and everything and all.
Nevermind.
(This is the worst journal entry.)
(I feel bad about that.)
I just changed the song, and it made me think differently. I listened to all of Sigur Ros's "Takk" (thanks sabeel) today, and that was it so far. Now comes John Lennon's "How."
"How can I give love when I don't know what it is I'm giving?
How can I give love when I just don't know how to give?
How can I give love when love is something I ain't never had?"
I don't know. Listen to the song, asshole.
Anyway, the point is "How can I go forward when I don't know which way I'm facing?"
That's the main point really.
I'm shuffling (songs) and skipped a few, stopping at "Oh Yoko." I want to tell someone with confidence at some point, "My love will turn you on," especially if "In the middle of a shave/ in the middle of a shave, I call [her] name."
Mike, listen to "Dustin Hoffman's Children Enter the Bathroom,"<not by John Lennon< (the second-to-last track.) Tell me how much you like it.
I put on "Dancing on the Highway," because damnit does it remind me<[make me think about] of what<[someone] I had<[still have] [more than]>something to say about.
A little ambigious and confusing I guess.
Oh well. It doesn't matter.
To close, "The Enemy is You" is a song that is more awesome than awesome.
(It has nothing to do with the song, but that was the shittiest closing.)
(I feel bad about that.)
(I don't actually feel bad about that.)
(I feel bad about someone.)
current music: Sigur Ros - Staralfur
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| Sunday, November 27th, 2005
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10:21 pm - Young red bird, they're just natural feelings.
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"I cant keep from changing my brains,
bending my wants with my rights.
Are my friends still half right?
And should I keep them seperate from me? It's unclear.
Then I get a cold.
Can I get a light?
There's a certain type of easy pace. That's what we need to make it.
...should I really lie with you?
I never know when I'm on my own.
Are there more important things to do than kiss or sleep today?
We gotta wake up.
Then I talk to your breath and we enjoy the air,
and I creep on your chest to the hut I have where
I pluck a few notes on the strands of your hair.
And I'm singing to you what to do
if I ask you to make funny faces with me in the mirror of the bathroom.
...Young red bird, they're just natural feelings
like walking off to ride my bike or just bump into you
I haven't seen you in a week or three days.
Though it really bugs me, it's nice to find new ways to smile.
I keep thinking that when you feel sad you can't pout,
'cause what this song's about is me singing
I'm just wondering what to do
with you, myself, and me naked in the mirror of the bathroom."
This song is moving to me. Many of the lyrics in it are fitting [with the music] and also moving. They are above. I don't know if they would mean anything to someone reading them without hearing the song. It should I think.
Anyway, I hung out with Christina last night.
current music: Animal Collective - Flesh Canoe
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| Saturday, November 5th, 2005
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5:14 pm - and "when tomorrow gets here, where will yesterday be?"
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this picture makes me think of winter
in a happy way.
...also the weakerthans.
current music: the weakerthans - reconstruction site
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| Thursday, August 4th, 2005
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12:20 pm - it only happens once a lifetime, make the most of it. (second just to being born.)
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So I'm wondering if it isn't a possibility, since the way I look at it, death is a big step in life, if everyone dies in a way they're comfortable with.
You know, like if someone is faced with death, and this person's death is completed as far as his killer is concerned, maybe another reality is created for the person who is supposed to be dying... in which he escapes death or survives. (all the way until he's ready to die, you know?)
I think I thought about that because I imagined how strange it would be for someone to have me in a helpless situation and shoot me in the head. And they continue life.. immediately, and I am expected not to, or to go somewhere else or something. I think maybe that wouldn't happen.. and in his mind and his reality I am dead on the ground and he thinks of the impending consequences or how best to cover it up. But to me he doesn't kill me for one reason or another.. even if it's kind of a bullshit reason that I make up in my mind and then later when I think about it I never have an answer for "how did i even survive that situation?" Dreams are like that sometimes. Things will occur in sequences of events but sometimes the tying points are kind of weak or sloppy. Or it's filled in by some sort of knowledge about the situation that you just have. Like you met a person in a supermarket in your dream. And you don't know why you're at the supermarket in the first place except for that you had to get cereal. Why? Well it doesn't matter. I met the person there and that's what counted. Just like "thank god i miraculously survived that situation with that armed seemingly-homocidal guy." But you know, he's like hiding my corpse and my family's worrying and then mourning. But I'm still seeing my family on holidays and telling the story to my grandchildren and then laying down to die after my first grandson graduates highschool and my wife of 52 years passes away due to those general old-age complications. (But of course she didn't die yet because she was never comfortable with the idea of leaving this world before me because she thought it'd be better if I was there waiting wherever after... so then I die. Then she dies (in her mind).)
But I don't know maybe death is just like any other thing in life or maybe it's not such a huge step. I mean it just seems so big because to the people living, you disappear entirely which is so frightening. And it's difficult to comprehend. I don't know. This whole theory or possibility is kind of a pointless and strange thing to suggest anyway. I mean all these different realities would overlap, but the point really is each person just has his or her own. Anyway, that's true, regardless of whether it pertains to something as drastic as death. It's obvious that when you and I look at the same thing, we don't see the same thing. And when we hear something, that's not the same either. I mean it's true about all the senses and those are our only means of perception. And perception and interpretation (which varies possibly even more than perception) is what facilitates reality. And so forth and so on, etc.
current music: belle and sebastian - fox in the snow
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| Monday, July 18th, 2005
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1:19 am - in the dark bags become (OoohOOOhhhhohh) sneaking devils...
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I just went to see Batman Begins with my dad. i drove there. he drove me home because it was quarter to 1 am when we left.
important upcoming dates in my life!: Driving Test - July 20th
other important dates: (?)
anyway i've said to katherine now twice, just now, "i'm flattered." when i say "flattered" or when i think it, i think "flattened" and i think of the weight of the person's compliment bombarding me with a good feeling.. like in a good way.
i always say "alright." that's the only typo i really always intentionally make, because it makes me kind of cool [just kind of]. (it's really supposed to be "all right.")
i'm going to do a big paragraphing thing here. maybe i should say a "little paragraphing" thing, for what i mean is that i intend to split my thoughts into smaller groupings than is typical of uh.. my journal or, i don't know. wherever. it's alright. you get it.
i really do miss sabeel. miss that guy already. that fucker. great guy, that sabeel.
jimmy and me were supposed to hang out this evening but things got fucked up because a girl was involved and girls have a tendency to ruin everything. haha. i'm just kidding>>>
>>amanda. :i feel big things about you and had fun hanging out with you recently.
i miss mike also. mike chornomaz, not mike colonel. i wouldn't miss mike colonel even if he was gone. nah, i'm just playin' mike... or am i?
matt's cool. i wish he liked me better. i feel flattened when i'm invited to party with him and his girlfriend, but i want him to invite me to hang out with him just me and him. mano y mano->("hand and hand")
olivia thinks she owns the place, and the place, my friends, to be, is me. well at least she invites me to hang out with her... matt.
olivia ribiero is someone who i had a class with this year and i felt close with her while in that class. i wonder if she'll want to see me once or something before she goes to college or if she doesn't care.
brittanie, same thing, yatta yatta.
i don't mean to just be listing names here and stuff. i could talk about other things besides the things that happen to be alive or people. i accidentally typed "i could talk to other things" at first. how just.. loco would i have appeared to reader, him/herself?
katherine just said she's-a gun-a goda bed.. except not like that. i mean, she didn't say it like that, not that she's not going to go to bed like that. anyway, she likes to read these things i think. (she said "i guess i'll read it tomorrow," not 'cause i asked her to, but because i mentioned i was typing in my journal.) so katherine, this one's for you: " ." (did you see? i just gave the monitor a 'thumbs up.').... (nah, i didn't. but i thought it'd be cute of me to joke that maybe i did.)
tomorrow i have to go to the high school to change things about my schedule for this year's next school year. next year's going to be a joke, but i don't really even care to talk about it. no matter how easy the end of high school is going to be, i don't know what i want to do after so i'm fucked pretty bad. i don't even know what i want. not even now really, like with girls.
I worked 8-hour shifts today and yesterday. Tomorrow I work a 4-hour evening shift, and then Tuesday it's a 7-hour. Working four days in a row is bullshit. Working is bullshit.
Today at work, while I was working, minding my own business this girl comes up to me and asks for my phone number. Well I was a little shocked, to say the least. I mean she was pretty attractive. Then she got ugly.
Get it?
Anyway, none of it happened. Nothing ever happened in my whole life, and yours neither. If we all ever can meet as souls, all of our flesh-based misplacements of one another will seem laughably insignificant. and we'll say "we lost touch. that was so long ago. now it's forever and nothing matters. and we have the world. it's on top of our shoulders, but it don't weigh nothing. no it's just warm, warm sun on our naked backs. we go swimming in white, white light. it ain't too hot. it's just right. we feel nice, and we're flapping our arms in the air like beautiful birds."
we'll probably all be beautiful then, right? anyway, that's not gonna happen either. i'll tell you what's going to happen...... once i find out, and naturally no longer have the means with which to tell you. no wait, that's when i won't tell you what's going to happen. hey, that time's a little bit like now, except i don't know. so they're like... synonymous, but like.. they like aren't quite alike, you know?
well anyway, it doesn't matter. i don't know why i put that thought all over the place- "it doesn't matter." i try to say it whenever i can, really. i think it a lot probably. i think a lot of things though i think.
i think a lot about things, some things i mean. they might be the same things that most people think a lot about too. maybe we should talk about it (you, and me, and everyone under the light. we can all just scream at the same time, all in our own language. or we can all do our best impression of each other's languages that we don't really know. and much less will be said, but the same amount will be heard and worth hearing and discovered as something valuable. no, that's an exaggeration. if we all talk our own way then maybe someone who can understand me will catch one phrase. and they'll hold it in their head like it's a precious thing. and they'll say it over, rock it back and forth. you know.)
i want to go to sleep i guess. no, i want to see some tv i like. no, i want to go to sleep (and dream about tv? (no.)) what should i dream about tonight? i want someone to hit me with a big love. (in real life, i mean. i stopped talking about what i should dream about. i guess i should have started a new paragraph.)
i will now.
but it's just one to say goodnight, 'cause i wanna do that. no, i mean i want to go.
("I can hear my heart beat
across the room, behind the closet door
When I'm laying in my bed in the dark.
I can't gather all the love I need when I need it.
I'm not mad; I understand that that's the price,
And all is forgiven in the end
If your heart was in the right place.
If you lived an honest life, if you tried.
I can't stop your memory from breaking my heart
Devils were laughing so loud,
I couldn't hear the radio.")
yeah, that's what i meant. i wanna go. don't talk to me (no one.)
current music: of montreal - i can't stop your memory
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| Monday, July 11th, 2005
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7:30 pm - this is a song about my dreams.
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| Sunday, June 26th, 2005
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3:59 pm
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| Sunday, June 12th, 2005
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10:20 pm - i'm enjoying this book
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"...He came slightly unstuck in time, saw the late movie backwards, then forwards again. It was a movie about American bombers in the Second World War and the gallant men who flew them. Seen backwards by Billy, it went like this:
American planes, full of holes and wounded men and corpses took off backwards from an airfield in England. Over France, a few German fighter planes flew at them backwards, sucked bullets and plane fragments from some of the crewmen. They did the same for wrecked American bombers on the ground, and those planes flew up backwards to join the formation.
The formation flew backwards over a German city that was in flames. The bombers opened their bomb bay doors, exerted a miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers, and lifted the containers into the bellies of the planes. The containers were stored neatly in racks. The Germans below had miraculous devices of their own, which were long steel tubes. They used them to suck more fragments from the crewmen and planes. But there were still a few wounded Americans, though, and some of the bombers were in bad repair. Over France, though, German fighters came up again, made everything and everybody as good as new.
When the bombers got back to their base, the steel cylinders were taken from the racks and shipped back to the United States of America, where factories were operating night and day, dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous contents into minerals. Touchingly, it was mainly women who did this work. The minerals were then shipped to specialists in remote areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide them cleverly, so they would never hurt anybody ever again.
The American fliers turned in their uniforms, became high school kids. And Hitler turned into a baby, Billy Pilgrim supposed. That wasn't in the movie. Billy was extrapolating. Everybody turned into a baby, and all humanity, without exception, conspired biologically to produce two perfect people named Adam and Eve, he supposed." -kurt vonnegut, slaughterhouse - five
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| Monday, April 4th, 2005
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12:31 am
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the only language i can think in is flawed. i walk on a road and see flags flapping in the wind and floating up 'cause a kindly god beckoned them. a metaphorical semaphore is telling me "detour" and something else i don't get. i pass a pond where no frogs are playing leapfrog, but the air is wet as the water there. two heads and drooling, cross-eyed and three-legged, a dog approaches and i pet her head. i do so because i feel bad and she's a her because all dogs are.
a little further on, i happen upon a creature that talks telephathic. i understand his greeting and try to respond. he laughs and says i try too much with my hands. i don't frown 'cause no one ever does but he reassures me with constructiveness. it's just they can't make so many sounds. they're an inferior means of conveying expression.
(there's a street in a town where i grew up that i never walked down. maybe 'cause maybe if i did i'd find i wasn't supposed to've and the people and houses there don't exist. it's just white like the winter's whitest snowy sheet. it's a regular scene from an every-daydream.)
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| Wednesday, March 2nd, 2005
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7:07 pm - my mind's got a mind of its own.
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yesterday was better than a saturday but today is not and i am bored i think right now, but i've got to go eat dinner anyhow right now. i think it's gonna be the same as what i ate with my girlfriend when she was over yesterday. that was part of the reason yesterday was better than a saturday. (her, i mean.) i'm anxious to go to the school play with her even though it's gonna suck really hard. it's gonna suck some serious d-block. no josh. but yeah, i already said i'm anxious. haha. 'cause i'm the rockingest bf around.
speaking of bf's, my bf is also someone i like, aside from my gf. except what i've done here is manipulated the usage of abbreviation to slyly change the topic from "boyfriend" to "best friend." i'm pretty much the smartest person in the universe.
i just went and ate dinner and i happened upon a pretty funny-seeming episode of Everybody Loves Raymond. i only watched the last ten minutes or so but it was pretty funny. it made me giggle (out loud).
eating has made me think of central pizza (my lunch today.) i like that place so much for lunch during the school day. it's real great. great food. good price. nice people. nice atmosphere.
i'm gonna go.
current music: the books - a true story of a story of true love
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| Tuesday, February 8th, 2005
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8:30 pm
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i just imagined my name was called so i took one earphone out and asked "what?"... and then louder "what?". now i am thoroughly embarrassed because if ghosts exist and for some reason inhabit my house, they may be laughing at me. perhaps they were the ones themselves who said my name. it took about twenty of them shouting simultaneously to be audible. i'm pretty sure i imagined it, or maybe it was something in the background of the song. since i haven't familiarized myself with it much yet, it seems a much greater possibility.
i wouldn't be updating. i haven't in a long time. but it just so happens that when i told sabeel that "i haven't updated my journal in ten hundred million years," he suggested i "do it." had he said "that's interesting. unfortunately you are not so there is no point to updating now," i probably would have been hurt / decided against it. i'm glad he is a good friend and not a bad friend.
i'm glad i have a lot of good friends who provide for me the music i listen to in my life right now and probably later too.
i must have been tired last night when i tried to start reading Less Than Zero, which i should have completed already for english class. i read a page or so. i do want to read it though and maybe i will get to it very soon.
my girlfriend makes it very hard to update in the traditional updating sense. well.. my traditional updating sense... which is like i go on and in circles and don't get anything said. it's alright though, because it's because it's the case that i like her and i think she likes talking to me a lot and so our conversations don't sit still. that i like.
yeah i've actually pretty much forgotten about updating entirely by this point (maybe 10 minute since the last paragraph.) alright. i'm out of here.
current music: of montreal
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| Saturday, November 20th, 2004
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7:42 pm
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wasting a small portion of my life eating something to satiate a need that god knows why we possess. sure it would have made for some questions if humans were endowed with an unlimited supply of energy, but it also would have made for much more productivity and real living. i like to spend as little time eating as possible, and sleep as little as i need to. dreaming is important to me, but i don't think the kind or quality of it depends on the length of time for which i sleep. or maybe it does, and that's why the stories never wrap themselves up in something so clean and squared off as a perfect answer or having a feeling that coincides directly with the feeling you think you should be having at a given moment.
current music: the shins - new slang
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thomassennett's journal
i am secretly blue.
mike is secretly purple.
me and sabeel are secretly awesome.
