@>[o}<@
Like I usually say, I've got way too much other shit I should be doing.
It used to be that I should have been upstairs, sleeping and was instead updating my journal,
and then it was that I should have been looking for jobs and "getting on with life," as if anyone can explain just what that is, sans referencing copulation. Right now I'm supposed to be doing homework, and what is that? Well, in short it's work that you take home from school to do on your own time, as if you aren't at school on your own time as well. The particular bundle I've gotta get to consists of analyzing the diet of an poor imaginary bastard suffering from type 2 diabetes. I suppose it could be worse homework, like analyzing the sexist overtones in Gulliver's Travels or writing a proof..whatever that consists of (sounds terrible).
Naturally, anyone who has read this journal might wonder why I'm a university student at the moment, and I hate to tell you this..but I cannot really answer that question - it just happened. Not knowing what one is doing is really common, or at least it seems that way based on my interpretation. Sitting around this morning studying upper gastrointestinal disorders while listening to something called Yr Intestines (via bandcamp), it all just seemed very natural that I was "in" this situation. This doesn't bother me so much because, to some degree, it seems I've been able to *know* that there's no one controlling the play that is life. It feels fucking awkward to write that, as it reveals something of a naivete in someone who should know better, but goddammit..it's the actual truth for me, at least once in awhile. The lackadaisical attitude that emerges is not helpful in terms of fulfilling obligations and such, but I've never been very much on board with those anyways..unless they concern people I care about. I certainly am finding it difficult to care about careers, which is understandably pathetic in some sense - given that I'm a 30-year old man (out of time and place), swept up this noxious tidal wave of "civilization." At some point I'm going to have to use the "s in every other sentence, it seems - so obviously subjective this whole thing is. In any case, when the thought of swimming to the everdistant shores of security strikes me I tend to choose the slowest passageway. It only seems foolish when I start to analyze it with the less relevant programmed mind. Though there's nothing nefarious there - in the 'programmed' part - as it is merely meant to apply to everything learned. The knowledge that I can't ever 'get' secure is..let's say, more powerful than the thoughts of guilt based on conversation's between strangers online, or the very small desire to make my parents worry about me less, though it doesn't matter anyways, as most parents seem to worry about something..at all times. It is, perhaps too powerful in that I worry about how I'm going to adequately apply myself to this machine/congested rat race(!!!!!).
*a blind hessian searching for something that can't be found
I'm taking this class called Mass Media Communications or somethingrather, and it's something I could honestly care less about, but it just happened to fit my schedule and I needed the extra 3 credits..and each class consists of the professor talking to himself, and sometimes using the class to answer really obvious questions to make sure they're paying attention (barely ever anything open-ended). I don't know what the hell any of the TV shows are that they're talking about, nor the movies, "youtube stars," technology - but it's not insulting at all. It's just very curious. There's an unsettling realization that I don't really share the same culture as this great mass of 134 people (assuming no one is skipping that day..haha), as if I'm existing in some weird void. That type of thing doesn't occur in my other classes, as they're mostly made up of very health conscious people, and they just like to talk real life stuff: jobs/$/fitness/other people's problems/food..etc. I can understand that whole approach to thinking in a way - taking care of the body and being the best 'body' you can be, but it's all really the same as trying to be more spiritual/trying to be a rock star/trying to cure cancer/trying to better than 'x'..and that's where I lose the connection. And, that consistent loss of connection with other people really does get the monkey mind worrying about how to generate green colored paper in the very near future. The staunch Materialist laughs, and the Romantic Idealist sheds a tiny tear, knowing that it's all too true.
For as paper thin as this whole construct may seem to be in deep thought/at random/meditating/(whatever does the trick), it is "real-enough" to the point that it involves nerve-endings and heartache, hunger signals firing away..and I have trouble being convinced that there's a way to transcend that experience while still remaining present in a human earthform suit. I am too lazy to try, so that's not implying anything(;=p)
Thoughts about graduating from college are strange because I don't feel like I've learned anything but facts about other facts. I knew this would happen though, because I've been very cynical for awhile now. I like the fact that I realized a ton of obvious shit about myself and everything else, for that matter, while in college..and yet didn't learn any of it in class. Why did I go to class nearly all of the time and remember all of that stuff? Just to regurgitate it? That's the most obvious & stereotypical 1950's 'robot training' sci-fi scenario. I don't think I will be updating this before graduating and after that it's an eventual slide into one particular toilet->septic system of a career (health inspector, ironically enough). In that time I might feel compelled to write a lot, but it's a difficult mood, or state of mind to generate. It just kind of has to come on at the right time and place. Speaking of which (loosely), summer will come soon and I really find myself longing for dark & stormy nights - some desire to re-experience listening to Mercyful Fate by candleglow, with an eerily cool summer breeze alerting my near-dead senses. I'm supposed to hate summertime though..remember? This journal has been saying that for 6 years or something..and yet it's always getting easier to let such stupid stuff off my shoulders. It doesn't make me happier in the sense of happiness equating to notions of success/pride/better than 'x', but there is a weird sense of not caring how it turns out. Experience will occur regardless of how hard I pull it in one direction, or push it in another. That seems to be the case, anyway. So just keep doing homework...or not..
But in honor of that summer's night, I present to you this pearl of wisdom...that nothing can ever supersede the pitiful charm of these King Diamond bootlegs, not even 1,000,000,000 Livejournal entries.
It used to be that I should have been upstairs, sleeping and was instead updating my journal,
and then it was that I should have been looking for jobs and "getting on with life," as if anyone can explain just what that is, sans referencing copulation. Right now I'm supposed to be doing homework, and what is that? Well, in short it's work that you take home from school to do on your own time, as if you aren't at school on your own time as well. The particular bundle I've gotta get to consists of analyzing the diet of an poor imaginary bastard suffering from type 2 diabetes. I suppose it could be worse homework, like analyzing the sexist overtones in Gulliver's Travels or writing a proof..whatever that consists of (sounds terrible).
Naturally, anyone who has read this journal might wonder why I'm a university student at the moment, and I hate to tell you this..but I cannot really answer that question - it just happened. Not knowing what one is doing is really common, or at least it seems that way based on my interpretation. Sitting around this morning studying upper gastrointestinal disorders while listening to something called Yr Intestines (via bandcamp), it all just seemed very natural that I was "in" this situation. This doesn't bother me so much because, to some degree, it seems I've been able to *know* that there's no one controlling the play that is life. It feels fucking awkward to write that, as it reveals something of a naivete in someone who should know better, but goddammit..it's the actual truth for me, at least once in awhile. The lackadaisical attitude that emerges is not helpful in terms of fulfilling obligations and such, but I've never been very much on board with those anyways..unless they concern people I care about. I certainly am finding it difficult to care about careers, which is understandably pathetic in some sense - given that I'm a 30-year old man (out of time and place), swept up this noxious tidal wave of "civilization." At some point I'm going to have to use the "s in every other sentence, it seems - so obviously subjective this whole thing is. In any case, when the thought of swimming to the everdistant shores of security strikes me I tend to choose the slowest passageway. It only seems foolish when I start to analyze it with the less relevant programmed mind. Though there's nothing nefarious there - in the 'programmed' part - as it is merely meant to apply to everything learned. The knowledge that I can't ever 'get' secure is..let's say, more powerful than the thoughts of guilt based on conversation's between strangers online, or the very small desire to make my parents worry about me less, though it doesn't matter anyways, as most parents seem to worry about something..at all times. It is, perhaps too powerful in that I worry about how I'm going to adequately apply myself to this machine/congested rat race(!!!!!).
*a blind hessian searching for something that can't be found
I'm taking this class called Mass Media Communications or somethingrather, and it's something I could honestly care less about, but it just happened to fit my schedule and I needed the extra 3 credits..and each class consists of the professor talking to himself, and sometimes using the class to answer really obvious questions to make sure they're paying attention (barely ever anything open-ended). I don't know what the hell any of the TV shows are that they're talking about, nor the movies, "youtube stars," technology - but it's not insulting at all. It's just very curious. There's an unsettling realization that I don't really share the same culture as this great mass of 134 people (assuming no one is skipping that day..haha), as if I'm existing in some weird void. That type of thing doesn't occur in my other classes, as they're mostly made up of very health conscious people, and they just like to talk real life stuff: jobs/$/fitness/other people's problems/food..etc. I can understand that whole approach to thinking in a way - taking care of the body and being the best 'body' you can be, but it's all really the same as trying to be more spiritual/trying to be a rock star/trying to cure cancer/trying to better than 'x'..and that's where I lose the connection. And, that consistent loss of connection with other people really does get the monkey mind worrying about how to generate green colored paper in the very near future. The staunch Materialist laughs, and the Romantic Idealist sheds a tiny tear, knowing that it's all too true.
For as paper thin as this whole construct may seem to be in deep thought/at random/meditating/(whatever does the trick), it is "real-enough" to the point that it involves nerve-endings and heartache, hunger signals firing away..and I have trouble being convinced that there's a way to transcend that experience while still remaining present in a human earthform suit. I am too lazy to try, so that's not implying anything(;=p)
Thoughts about graduating from college are strange because I don't feel like I've learned anything but facts about other facts. I knew this would happen though, because I've been very cynical for awhile now. I like the fact that I realized a ton of obvious shit about myself and everything else, for that matter, while in college..and yet didn't learn any of it in class. Why did I go to class nearly all of the time and remember all of that stuff? Just to regurgitate it? That's the most obvious & stereotypical 1950's 'robot training' sci-fi scenario. I don't think I will be updating this before graduating and after that it's an eventual slide into one particular toilet->septic system of a career (health inspector, ironically enough). In that time I might feel compelled to write a lot, but it's a difficult mood, or state of mind to generate. It just kind of has to come on at the right time and place. Speaking of which (loosely), summer will come soon and I really find myself longing for dark & stormy nights - some desire to re-experience listening to Mercyful Fate by candleglow, with an eerily cool summer breeze alerting my near-dead senses. I'm supposed to hate summertime though..remember? This journal has been saying that for 6 years or something..and yet it's always getting easier to let such stupid stuff off my shoulders. It doesn't make me happier in the sense of happiness equating to notions of success/pride/better than 'x', but there is a weird sense of not caring how it turns out. Experience will occur regardless of how hard I pull it in one direction, or push it in another. That seems to be the case, anyway. So just keep doing homework...or not..
But in honor of that summer's night, I present to you this pearl of wisdom...that nothing can ever supersede the pitiful charm of these King Diamond bootlegs, not even 1,000,000,000 Livejournal entries.