despair, thanksgiving style
My sleeping patterns have been horribly fucked. I have been horribly unproductive. HORRIBLE. I shouted fascism; mostly out of truth, but largely out of truth.
I am in Modesto, a town where it is easy to be comfortable.
I like myself more than is healthy. I also hate myself more than is healthy. I am not healthy. Fortunately, I am often busy enough to not think about this. But times like this, when I have to think about the future, all I see is doom. Graduate school; that other big hurdle they don't tell you about because apparently the smart ones are guaranteed in and the masses care not about superfluous pieces of paper; they care about
What really gets me though, is that if anyone reads the fucking news, the Left and the Right, GLOBALLY, discuss not America's rise or continued prosperity, but the inevitability of our fall. I live in a declining era; but don't we always exaggerate the importance our own epoch?
Every now and then, I think that I used to be something, I used to be someone. Perhaps back in high school I was a big fish in a small pond, but now I'm no longer a fish, but a prole in a sea of proles. FUCK.
The psychedelic mushrooms I took last week did two things: 1: made life seem fresh and beautiful and emotional; 2: made life seem dirty and horrible and emotional. I dusted the cobwebs off, but I still don't feel like doing anything with that renewed sensation.
Less does mean more, but I'm not sure if that logic can be applied to this entry. I hope it can be; I never was good at being concise; however, I am good at misusing and overusing the semi-colon.
With thanksgiving day long since gone, I have few other exciting moments of the year to look forward to. From now until 2007, all that matters is surviving the quarter and making 2006 part of the past.
2007 is going to be one fucked up year. I mean that positively.
I plan, and I plan, and I plan. I look in the mirror and see I've gotten heavier, and more stable, but not much else. You know...the more things change the more they stay the same. If anyone had told me back in October of 2003 that this would be the result of failure, would I have still tried? or would have I have tried harder?
Most of my favourite memories and greatest moments and greatest achievements have been in the past 3 years.
The most important thing that has happened lately: while on psychedelic mushrooms: I remembered who I was. A flood of memories poured forth. I realise now that my favourite word to describe life is 'bittersweet.' Now that I have written, a word I have cherished for the past five years will probably become meaningless, or forgotten.
So many hurdles to jump through just to live my fucking dream. Well, after 10 years of jumping, I'm getting tired; but I'm still ready and eager to jump some more.
For right now, the only jumping won't be for textbooks, or to unzip my pants, or to spend money, but to sleep and try to forget who I am.
Why? Because I remember who I am, and all the weight, all the positive and negative, all the information, that comes with that is tiring.
It's tiring to remember who you are, but at least when I do, I can go to bed with a smile on my face and a question mark of confusion and terror in my mind. It won't be a deserved rest, and it won't be peaceful, but it will be loved and cherished because sometimes you can't always get what you want.
Goddamnit, leave it to me to forget how to write a conclusion. Thank god this wasn't an essay; there'd be no thesis. I was always bad at coming up with one point; life isn't just one point, it's a series of points.
I always preferred the big picture to the details, hence this entry which could have been short, which could have been a contender, has gone on far too long. I went the opposite route; most people whine in giant incoherent blocks that often ignore punctuation and spelling entirely; I tried to retain as many conventions of standard written English as possible. The result was a punch of pithy fragments, because right now, I feel fragmented, like a Western man.
All right, I've procrastinated long enough. G'night.
p.s. Honestly, though, how does one handle life?
I am in Modesto, a town where it is easy to be comfortable.
I like myself more than is healthy. I also hate myself more than is healthy. I am not healthy. Fortunately, I am often busy enough to not think about this. But times like this, when I have to think about the future, all I see is doom. Graduate school; that other big hurdle they don't tell you about because apparently the smart ones are guaranteed in and the masses care not about superfluous pieces of paper; they care about
What really gets me though, is that if anyone reads the fucking news, the Left and the Right, GLOBALLY, discuss not America's rise or continued prosperity, but the inevitability of our fall. I live in a declining era; but don't we always exaggerate the importance our own epoch?
Every now and then, I think that I used to be something, I used to be someone. Perhaps back in high school I was a big fish in a small pond, but now I'm no longer a fish, but a prole in a sea of proles. FUCK.
The psychedelic mushrooms I took last week did two things: 1: made life seem fresh and beautiful and emotional; 2: made life seem dirty and horrible and emotional. I dusted the cobwebs off, but I still don't feel like doing anything with that renewed sensation.
Less does mean more, but I'm not sure if that logic can be applied to this entry. I hope it can be; I never was good at being concise; however, I am good at misusing and overusing the semi-colon.
With thanksgiving day long since gone, I have few other exciting moments of the year to look forward to. From now until 2007, all that matters is surviving the quarter and making 2006 part of the past.
2007 is going to be one fucked up year. I mean that positively.
I plan, and I plan, and I plan. I look in the mirror and see I've gotten heavier, and more stable, but not much else. You know...the more things change the more they stay the same. If anyone had told me back in October of 2003 that this would be the result of failure, would I have still tried? or would have I have tried harder?
Most of my favourite memories and greatest moments and greatest achievements have been in the past 3 years.
The most important thing that has happened lately: while on psychedelic mushrooms: I remembered who I was. A flood of memories poured forth. I realise now that my favourite word to describe life is 'bittersweet.' Now that I have written, a word I have cherished for the past five years will probably become meaningless, or forgotten.
So many hurdles to jump through just to live my fucking dream. Well, after 10 years of jumping, I'm getting tired; but I'm still ready and eager to jump some more.
For right now, the only jumping won't be for textbooks, or to unzip my pants, or to spend money, but to sleep and try to forget who I am.
Why? Because I remember who I am, and all the weight, all the positive and negative, all the information, that comes with that is tiring.
It's tiring to remember who you are, but at least when I do, I can go to bed with a smile on my face and a question mark of confusion and terror in my mind. It won't be a deserved rest, and it won't be peaceful, but it will be loved and cherished because sometimes you can't always get what you want.
Goddamnit, leave it to me to forget how to write a conclusion. Thank god this wasn't an essay; there'd be no thesis. I was always bad at coming up with one point; life isn't just one point, it's a series of points.
I always preferred the big picture to the details, hence this entry which could have been short, which could have been a contender, has gone on far too long. I went the opposite route; most people whine in giant incoherent blocks that often ignore punctuation and spelling entirely; I tried to retain as many conventions of standard written English as possible. The result was a punch of pithy fragments, because right now, I feel fragmented, like a Western man.
All right, I've procrastinated long enough. G'night.
p.s. Honestly, though, how does one handle life?