From the people who brought you strawberry fields and talking walruses. . .
*sigh* My sense of time is so screwed up right now. I woke up around six, and freaked out, thinking I'd slept in until tomorrow evening. Which would be a lot of sleep. After awhile, I thought it was six in the morning of tomorrow. Because I'm stupid. Finally I asked chauncy what day and time it was and. . . turned out I'd only slept two hours, if that. And. . . that's probably all the sleep I'm going to be getting tonight. Because sleep is stupid. It promotes sloth and laziness.
My last 36ish hours have just gelled together into one really long day. That and my brain has almost completely died, so. . . don't hate me if I can't remember dates worth beans. I think I woke up Monday around. . . 7ish. Oh, that's right. Okay. Monday. Have I really not had a full night's sleep since then? Wow. That's . . . that's insane. Right, so Monday Travis, Ann, myself, and all the little kids went to see TTT at the Garland. There's just something about the sixth time you watch a movie that's. . . always special. . . the first five times are fun, but once you've watched it six times . . . it really starts to sink in and mean something. *sigh* *spaces off* *gazes at map of Spokane*. Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse is a really kick-arse book. It's pretty short, but moving and inspirational and much fun. Unlike Tale of Two Cities, which isn't that long, but it drags on forever, and doesn't really go anywhere. I need to read some stuff by Jack Keruoac (sp?). I hear his books are really good. btw, the first documented material on Buddhism available in Europe was a book called The Buddhist Catechism by a philanthropist person working with people in Sri Lanka (Ceylon, at the time, I guess). I just thought that was kind of silly. Or the temple-sangha-group did, anyway. I didn't get it at first. I had to ask Ed to explain it to me. Because I'm stupid and didn't know what a catechism is. Homily. Liturgy. Catechism. Eucharist. *sigh* how come Catholics get all the cool words? We get stuck with sangha and dharma and hondo and gasho and ojuzu and. . . and. . . silly Catholics. But we have cooler-sounding saints/famous religious personages than them. I mean. . . how does St. John even *compare* to Avalokiteshvra? For whatever reason, there won't be a service at the temple these next two weeks, so my mom kind of wants to go to the Vietnamese temple to see what it's like. I'd like to go to the one on 7th, but my mom says it's freaky and they believe some really strange things there. I'd still like to go sometime. I'll probably end up biking over there next week.
The Beatle's White Album really does sound like they were on drugs when they wrote most of the songs. Which isn't an altogether bad things . . . the songs are fun and inspiring to listen to. If not confusing. Drugs. Drugs. Even though I've never smoked pot or anything, I still have a pretty firm belief that natural highs can beat drug-induced ones any day. Like. . . for example. . . um, I think I'll be shutting up now. Yes.
So after we got back from the movie, I just sorta lazed around the house for the rest of the day. Wait, no. . . I ended up babysitting the kids again. We made ramen an. . . it seemed like they liked it. Geez, my brain keeps on dying. I know I did more yesterday, I just can't remember what, exactly. Oh, right. I took a nap in my clothe's I'd worn that day around six, woke up around eight in a really weird mood. . . took a shower, and went on a walk outside. Around the property. I didn't really feel like I was awake, or even present most of the time. It was like I was sleep-walking. I got back around 10:30, and griped at Travis for still being on the internet, when I'd asked for a turn before six. He kept on saying he'd get off, so I sat there. But he didn't really seem to be trying to end any of his conversations. And when he did, he tells everyone, "Oh, skyler's jealous of me right now. . . think I should give him a turn? I didn't think so either. . . but I really have to be going to sleep. . . so . . .". I finally got on around whenever, talked to my homies. . . and stayed on. For the greater part of the night and early morning. I still can't believe Lauri and Wessie were on so late. That's insane. It's like . . . being on late. *sigh* I really wish I had more conversational tact. There's this stupid voice inside of me that tells me you can have an honest conversation with girls about breasts without somehow offending someone. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be perverted. Just trying to make idle conversation. God, I really. . .*sigh* need to know when to shut up a lot of the time. Most of the time. All of the time.
So after my intellectually-stimulating conversation with Lauri and Wessie, I went to my room and cleaned it. Then I made breakfast for meself and took a shower. And put a sheet up in place of a doorway and burned a lot of incense. You should have seen the sunrise! The smoke in my room was so thick you could see how dirty my window was just by looking at the light reflected by the smoke, if that makes any sense. Then I made two double mochas, drank them, and listened to random 45's I have laying around. and it was good. I left around 6:30. . . got to the garland around 8:10, and cursed my lack of timeliness. So, I went to the Northtown and hung out there for a little bit. Then went back to the Garland and watched previews. This one sort of scary woman told me that I had pretty hair. I said "thank you". Because it's the courteous thing to do. For some stupid, totally-random reason, I had trouble staying awake during the movie. I sort of slept between the wolf-things attacking the Edorasians, and. . . some time after that. But I was really awake when I woke up, which was cool. I don't know what it is about sleep deprivation that. . . lowers my . . .emotional wall, so to speak. I've watched TTT six times before, and I haven't been particularly moved by it. But this time. . . I was more into it, I guess. *sigh* I felt like crying when Haldir died and when Fanghorn found all the stumps of his old buddies. Even now, thinking about it, it makes me sad and. . . almost guilty, somehow. It also kind of pissed me off how much they were glorifying and making a joke out of death. "I've taken two souls from this world!" "Really? I just slaughtered 17 outright!" (outright. . . i'm not really sure what that means. . . but it sounds good there. . .). Granted, they're trying to save their people from the orcs, I don't blame them for killing them, but for making a joke out of it doesn't jive well with me. There's a lot of conflicting emotions in TTT. You have Haldir's very emotional and musical death scene, followed by Aragorn's *no! I avenge you now!", and 30 seconds later, people are laughing and joking about how many they've killed again. I dunno. . . lately I've been thinking about death a lot and how most religions just believe our body's are vessels that are made to wear out eventually, but they store inside them something immortal and. . . independent of their physical condition. There's something about accounts of gruesome death that makes me hate the world for allowing such things to happen. I remember the assembly we had awhile back against drinking and driving where they showed all the bodies with their brains spilling out and. . . telling us about a girl who was decapitated when her car flipped over and she was standing out the sunroof. I think that was sick of the school. They could have showed us fucking porn and scarred us less. Someone fainted, for God's sake. Don't you think there's a reason we do that? Do you think maybe it was her body telling her she doesn't need to see this, that it's only going to hurt her. That we don't need to see corpses prematurely robbed of their soul because of a driver's stupid actions. Soul. . . soul. . . I'm still not completely sure what a soul is. If we have one. Where it comes from, where it goes. What determines its quality. It's only in the last couple of years that I acknowledged other people as having souls. It had been my belief that other people were just. . . people. Everyone was just a stranger in a crowd, and none of them had that conscience that (supposedly) sets us apart from animals.
I think I was going somewhere with this. Yup. Or maybe I wasn't. Hmm. After the movie, my mom picked me up and we went to this thrift shop to buy hobbit clothes. I found a good pair of pants, undershirt, overshirt, and material with which to make a cloak out of. I've still yet to get a vest. I'll probably stop off at Value Village tomorrow and see what they have. Hobbits have. . . tweed vests, right? I remember reading that somewhere.
This is the first time my mom and I had really had mother/son time for awhile. I like to think my mom and I get along really well. We spend 3-4 hours with each other every sunday, and I feel completely comfortable talking to her about almost anything. On the way home we talked a lot about death and guilt and. . . general causes of suffering. We talked about Travis some and my mom gave a lot of good examples of relationships she'd had with people similar to Travis' and mine. Her advice was that he's only going to be home for another year, if that. I should just deal, because it's a skill you need in the real world. My mom isn't nearly intuitive as my dad about most things. . . she's home a lot more often, but she had no idea as to how Travis and I were getting along. Then there's my dad who's only home on weekends, and he still has a thorough understanding of most of our lives. He knows what I think about people just by the way I talk about them/to them.
This is rather long. I'd like to make it longer, but I really must be going to bed. Get to bike to the Garland again tomorrow. *sigh* I sometimes feel this guilt from really not having a life. I feel like I should spend my wasted time doing charity or. . . something that's conducive to the betterment of mankind. Or at least myself. I can think of little, if any, self-improvement I've made this summer. If anything, I've let myself become more corrupted by this and that and the other thing. I've let myself be more of an ass to people, and to stop caring as much as I used to. I've let myself become lazy, yet at the same time, expect too much from other people. Bleh on me.
My last 36ish hours have just gelled together into one really long day. That and my brain has almost completely died, so. . . don't hate me if I can't remember dates worth beans. I think I woke up Monday around. . . 7ish. Oh, that's right. Okay. Monday. Have I really not had a full night's sleep since then? Wow. That's . . . that's insane. Right, so Monday Travis, Ann, myself, and all the little kids went to see TTT at the Garland. There's just something about the sixth time you watch a movie that's. . . always special. . . the first five times are fun, but once you've watched it six times . . . it really starts to sink in and mean something. *sigh* *spaces off* *gazes at map of Spokane*. Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse is a really kick-arse book. It's pretty short, but moving and inspirational and much fun. Unlike Tale of Two Cities, which isn't that long, but it drags on forever, and doesn't really go anywhere. I need to read some stuff by Jack Keruoac (sp?). I hear his books are really good. btw, the first documented material on Buddhism available in Europe was a book called The Buddhist Catechism by a philanthropist person working with people in Sri Lanka (Ceylon, at the time, I guess). I just thought that was kind of silly. Or the temple-sangha-group did, anyway. I didn't get it at first. I had to ask Ed to explain it to me. Because I'm stupid and didn't know what a catechism is. Homily. Liturgy. Catechism. Eucharist. *sigh* how come Catholics get all the cool words? We get stuck with sangha and dharma and hondo and gasho and ojuzu and. . . and. . . silly Catholics. But we have cooler-sounding saints/famous religious personages than them. I mean. . . how does St. John even *compare* to Avalokiteshvra? For whatever reason, there won't be a service at the temple these next two weeks, so my mom kind of wants to go to the Vietnamese temple to see what it's like. I'd like to go to the one on 7th, but my mom says it's freaky and they believe some really strange things there. I'd still like to go sometime. I'll probably end up biking over there next week.
The Beatle's White Album really does sound like they were on drugs when they wrote most of the songs. Which isn't an altogether bad things . . . the songs are fun and inspiring to listen to. If not confusing. Drugs. Drugs. Even though I've never smoked pot or anything, I still have a pretty firm belief that natural highs can beat drug-induced ones any day. Like. . . for example. . . um, I think I'll be shutting up now. Yes.
So after we got back from the movie, I just sorta lazed around the house for the rest of the day. Wait, no. . . I ended up babysitting the kids again. We made ramen an. . . it seemed like they liked it. Geez, my brain keeps on dying. I know I did more yesterday, I just can't remember what, exactly. Oh, right. I took a nap in my clothe's I'd worn that day around six, woke up around eight in a really weird mood. . . took a shower, and went on a walk outside. Around the property. I didn't really feel like I was awake, or even present most of the time. It was like I was sleep-walking. I got back around 10:30, and griped at Travis for still being on the internet, when I'd asked for a turn before six. He kept on saying he'd get off, so I sat there. But he didn't really seem to be trying to end any of his conversations. And when he did, he tells everyone, "Oh, skyler's jealous of me right now. . . think I should give him a turn? I didn't think so either. . . but I really have to be going to sleep. . . so . . .". I finally got on around whenever, talked to my homies. . . and stayed on. For the greater part of the night and early morning. I still can't believe Lauri and Wessie were on so late. That's insane. It's like . . . being on late. *sigh* I really wish I had more conversational tact. There's this stupid voice inside of me that tells me you can have an honest conversation with girls about breasts without somehow offending someone. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be perverted. Just trying to make idle conversation. God, I really. . .*sigh* need to know when to shut up a lot of the time. Most of the time. All of the time.
So after my intellectually-stimulating conversation with Lauri and Wessie, I went to my room and cleaned it. Then I made breakfast for meself and took a shower. And put a sheet up in place of a doorway and burned a lot of incense. You should have seen the sunrise! The smoke in my room was so thick you could see how dirty my window was just by looking at the light reflected by the smoke, if that makes any sense. Then I made two double mochas, drank them, and listened to random 45's I have laying around. and it was good. I left around 6:30. . . got to the garland around 8:10, and cursed my lack of timeliness. So, I went to the Northtown and hung out there for a little bit. Then went back to the Garland and watched previews. This one sort of scary woman told me that I had pretty hair. I said "thank you". Because it's the courteous thing to do. For some stupid, totally-random reason, I had trouble staying awake during the movie. I sort of slept between the wolf-things attacking the Edorasians, and. . . some time after that. But I was really awake when I woke up, which was cool. I don't know what it is about sleep deprivation that. . . lowers my . . .emotional wall, so to speak. I've watched TTT six times before, and I haven't been particularly moved by it. But this time. . . I was more into it, I guess. *sigh* I felt like crying when Haldir died and when Fanghorn found all the stumps of his old buddies. Even now, thinking about it, it makes me sad and. . . almost guilty, somehow. It also kind of pissed me off how much they were glorifying and making a joke out of death. "I've taken two souls from this world!" "Really? I just slaughtered 17 outright!" (outright. . . i'm not really sure what that means. . . but it sounds good there. . .). Granted, they're trying to save their people from the orcs, I don't blame them for killing them, but for making a joke out of it doesn't jive well with me. There's a lot of conflicting emotions in TTT. You have Haldir's very emotional and musical death scene, followed by Aragorn's *no! I avenge you now!", and 30 seconds later, people are laughing and joking about how many they've killed again. I dunno. . . lately I've been thinking about death a lot and how most religions just believe our body's are vessels that are made to wear out eventually, but they store inside them something immortal and. . . independent of their physical condition. There's something about accounts of gruesome death that makes me hate the world for allowing such things to happen. I remember the assembly we had awhile back against drinking and driving where they showed all the bodies with their brains spilling out and. . . telling us about a girl who was decapitated when her car flipped over and she was standing out the sunroof. I think that was sick of the school. They could have showed us fucking porn and scarred us less. Someone fainted, for God's sake. Don't you think there's a reason we do that? Do you think maybe it was her body telling her she doesn't need to see this, that it's only going to hurt her. That we don't need to see corpses prematurely robbed of their soul because of a driver's stupid actions. Soul. . . soul. . . I'm still not completely sure what a soul is. If we have one. Where it comes from, where it goes. What determines its quality. It's only in the last couple of years that I acknowledged other people as having souls. It had been my belief that other people were just. . . people. Everyone was just a stranger in a crowd, and none of them had that conscience that (supposedly) sets us apart from animals.
I think I was going somewhere with this. Yup. Or maybe I wasn't. Hmm. After the movie, my mom picked me up and we went to this thrift shop to buy hobbit clothes. I found a good pair of pants, undershirt, overshirt, and material with which to make a cloak out of. I've still yet to get a vest. I'll probably stop off at Value Village tomorrow and see what they have. Hobbits have. . . tweed vests, right? I remember reading that somewhere.
This is the first time my mom and I had really had mother/son time for awhile. I like to think my mom and I get along really well. We spend 3-4 hours with each other every sunday, and I feel completely comfortable talking to her about almost anything. On the way home we talked a lot about death and guilt and. . . general causes of suffering. We talked about Travis some and my mom gave a lot of good examples of relationships she'd had with people similar to Travis' and mine. Her advice was that he's only going to be home for another year, if that. I should just deal, because it's a skill you need in the real world. My mom isn't nearly intuitive as my dad about most things. . . she's home a lot more often, but she had no idea as to how Travis and I were getting along. Then there's my dad who's only home on weekends, and he still has a thorough understanding of most of our lives. He knows what I think about people just by the way I talk about them/to them.
This is rather long. I'd like to make it longer, but I really must be going to bed. Get to bike to the Garland again tomorrow. *sigh* I sometimes feel this guilt from really not having a life. I feel like I should spend my wasted time doing charity or. . . something that's conducive to the betterment of mankind. Or at least myself. I can think of little, if any, self-improvement I've made this summer. If anything, I've let myself become more corrupted by this and that and the other thing. I've let myself be more of an ass to people, and to stop caring as much as I used to. I've let myself become lazy, yet at the same time, expect too much from other people. Bleh on me.