Covet that Which You Hate

Song of the Day: “New Faith” by Slayer

I believe one of the 10 Holy Commandments is that thou shalt not covet something something. Honestly I never really cared enough about church or the seemingly incessant string of Sunday School classes to actually memorize the 10 Commandments. I was very young during the period when my parents forced me to go to church, so I don’t remember very much. What I do remember is the candles they would light once a year, at the end of which there would be a holiday (I think it was Easter), constantly day-dreaming during mass, absolutely hating the fact that I was given homework for Sunday school and the fact that I still had to ask my parents how to spell my own name, and last, but certainly not least, the fact that my father would either leave mass 20 minutes early or simply not come at all. I don’t know how that has effected me as I have become an adult, but for some reason or another that memory has stuck with me. Maybe it is because I didn’t want to be there just as much as he didn’t.

I am an Atheist. I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in the story of creation. I don’t believe that there is some higher power that put us in the place that we all find ourselves in. I believe in science, biology, and evolution. When I really think about it, I use this fact to make myself feel superior to those people who believe that higher power which I so vehemently disdain. I find myself ridiculing those people who have such naivety to actually believe that there is a master to all of creation. But I know in my heart that that’s not right. It’s not right to disrespect someone who has a different belief structure as yourself. Isn’t that how the Crusades started? I know that evolution happened, it is a scientific fact. But to the next person, the church-going, bible-hugging wayfarer, that is not the case. This person knows that God is a real entity in one way or another, and despite all of the scientific evidence to the contrary, to this person perhaps there is some missing part to the equation that is the presence of God. You can’t be prejudiced towards people just because they believe something you are totally convinced is not true, despite how ridiculous it may seem to you.

The one thing that I absolutely hate about religion, and have to qualms about admitting so, is the organization. I simply cannot fathom why anyone would need a priest, or a pastor, or a father, or what-have-you, to stand up on a dais in a silly robe and read a book to you and interpret it to you. This spoon-feeding of the “gospel” is absolutely ludicrous to me when the main attraction of any religion is personal salvation. I emphasize that: personal salvation. How can you have this when someone other than you is describing to you what you are reading in a book. I have no problem with personal religion, it’s just that as soon as there is a middle man involved that potentially distorts the message being delivered and spoon-feeds it to you like your an infant that doesn’t know up from down, that is where I draw the line.

Enough about religion. I get bored too easily, I think. For the past three paragraphs I was all worked up and vehement and angry, and now I got nothing. I think I just don’t have the energy to stay angry for that long; it’s too much work. So why do you covet that which you hate? Is that necessarily true? Is it always true? When you finally achieve or obtain something which you’ve been coveting, does it make you happy, or does it just make you want more? Do you find that the driving force behind your desire to obtain that which you covet is not really that you want that particular thing, but you just desire the achievement. The proverbial end of the road. I think, for the most part, this is the case. It doesn’t really matter what you are striving for, because afterwards what really makes you satisfied is that you reached that plateau.

When I was a junior in high school, I was denied the position of Editor-in-Chief of my high school newspaper, and I was crushed. I actually put a few good slices in my bedroom door with a sword to vent my anger. But one of the advisers for the newspaper really put it in perspective for me and changed the whole way I looked at the situation. I pulled him aside at one point and asked him about the decision, and he told me that journalism wasn’t my career and my driving force, whereas the two new editors-in-chief had this force behind them. For me, it was just that I wanted to wear the Captain’s hat because I put blood, sweat, and tears into that paper and I felt like I deserved the recognition and the pat on the back. And he was right. When I really thought about it, I didn’t care about being in charge of everything, I just wanted the feeling of success after putting in so much hard work. And to be perfectly honest, I probably would have been a poor editor-in-chief considering my near total lack of motivation to do anything requiring responsibility. After that conversation, I was a changed man. Sure, I didn’t put in as much time or work as hard as I used to, but I came in, did my job, left, and wasn’t bitter about it.

I think about that time in my life, and I think of now. I sit here, now, in my apartment, typing this nonsense, and I can’t help thinking I’ve managed to put myself in the same position I was in all those years ago. My wall is covered with painting, pictures, and craft-work. Some of it absolutely beautiful, some of it unique, and some of it just, well, “interesting”. But who cares? There is no one here to see it and no one comes to see it. I stare at the things on my walls and remember all of the great times I had acquiring them, and I find myself hoping that someday some person will be here and notice all of the unique items I have acquired from around the world, and actually care enough to ask me about them.

There are two distinct directions this train of thought is going, and neither of them are very good. The first is that my favorite times are traveling the globe, seeing all the things that not many people get to experience. This inevitably boils down to the fact that I am not particularly satisfied with my current sedentary life of being alone in Philadelphia and only leaving my apartment to go to class or the gym. Considering this, I feel like I am taking a nose-dive into the 9-to-5 suburban hell that was the focal point of the opus American Beauty. And this scares the hell out of me.

The second train of thought is that I’m pining for someone to take an interest in me. I guess I’ve always felt like I’m second chair instrument to the cool kid in the band (if there is such a thing). I’ve always felt like I’m not worth while; that when it comes down to it I’m just wasting my time because I’m not going to amount to anything. This makes me think that the things on my walls validate me, they are a testament to the fact that I have been somewhere and I have seen something that not everyone gets to see. While it is true that I have done these things, it does not make me happy. Because how can you really be happy if you rely on material things to validate your own existence? When it comes down to it, it’s all just junk. I could light it all on fire and no one would care except me, because that burning pile of junk is me. I think it’s a pretty sad day when you define yourself by a giant bonfire that has nothing to do with the fire.

I’ve never been able to not compare myself to my brother. All my life, he was the popular one, he was the smart one, he was the motivated one, the bigger one, the stronger one, the more athletic one, the better-looking one, the more successful one, etcetera etcetera. And even now that our lives have diverged so far apart I can’t help doing it even more. While he is off traveling the world and living a life of his own, something I so desperately wish I could be doing, I am stuck here in school. While he went to one of the best engineering schools in the country, let alone the world, I went to a state school with a bunch of retards and jock straps looking for a party. Sure, I am getting my masters degree, but I think that will just put me barely on a even keel with him. Even still, I don’t think not having a masters degree would ever stop him and even if it did he would find a way around it. I look at him and I think that he could do anything and nothing will ever stop him from being successful. While I have always been stuck in his shadow feeding off his bread crumbs and making up excuses for why I haven’t tried as hard as he has to obtain a life that doesn’t so closely resemble hell. I’ve always made excuses for my many short-comings and failures, and I don’t know why or how I live with myself afterwards.

My brother is my superman. Sure, I constantly berate him for not owning a pair of balls, but that’s only because he gives me so many opportunities and it’s an absolute shame not to do so. But like I said before, I’ve always compared myself to him and he always seems to take the cake which such ease and finesse. I feel like I’m constantly two steps behind him in everything I do. Maybe I just need more time to mature and become the man I will be for the rest of my life, I don’t know. But part of me can’t help feeling left behind. He’s half-way around the world living a life he wants to live, and I’m in the middle of the road choking on his dust cloud. I know that I have my parents and that they would do anything for me, but that most likely cannot amount to the type of companionship that I need to get me through this transition period in my life.

But that’s not really the problem. There have been hard times in my life when I’ve turned to my brother, or my parents, or my friends for help. And sometimes I’ve gotten help, and sometimes not. I can only remember one distinct time when my brother asked me for help and that was regarding a girl (which I never thought would happen considering our relative relations with the fairer sex). And the problem appears like a light bulb in front of me. I have needed help from people more often than not lately considering my life and the pressures of school. But no one needs me. No one wants my advice, no one asks my opinion, no one turns to me when they have problems of their own, no one that is important in my life validates my position in theirs. The absence of reciprocity is the most painful truth of all.

Am I invisible? Or have I just dug my own grave? I know I have serious trust issues, so maybe the fact that there are very few people I let get close to me is in turn the reason why no one actually feels close enough to reach out to me for help? Or maybe I’m just upset by the fact that the people I do consider close to me don’t, or rarely, reach out to me. The whole reciprocity thing, right?

I’ve totally lost my drive to continue writing. I think I’ve successfully gotten that whole spiel out of me. A bottle of tequila is calling my name, so I must be going. Until next time.

The Reigning Champion

Song of the Day: “Overkill” by Colin Hay

“I can’t get to sleep, I think about the implications.

I’m diving in too deep, and possibly the complications.

Especially at night, I worry over situations that I know will be all right.

It’s just overkill.”

I listen to music a lot. In pretty much anything I do that requires concentration, I like to have music playing in the background. Right now as I type this, I have music playing. I’ve found that music influences and inspires me in specific ways. And therefore, I’m going to begin every one of my posts with a “Song of the Day” to bring to your attention the current song that has struck a chord in me somewhere, or a song that I am just really enjoying. Hopefully you, the reader, will investigate the songs I write about and experience some emotion from it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to feel how I feel or try to be in my shoes or any crap like that. It’s just that I feel something strong when I hear these particular songs, and I want you to feel something too. I want you to experience the emotions that each song evokes and perhaps even get a picture of where I am at emotionally and mentally. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an optimist or an idiot (maybe the same thing?), I don’t think that just by listening to the same song as I am listening to will put you in my shoes. But maybe you can get an idea of where I’m coming from.

The excerpt from “Overkill” that I transcribed does not give a perfect picture of what the song is about, but I enjoy it a lot. But when I think about it, I can’t help thinking that it’s not what specifically the artist wanted to portray in his or her music, it’s about what the music means to you. It’s about the message or the emotions that you extract from a song; that’s what is important. To me this song is about being alone. One stanza begins with “alone between the sheets, only brings exasperation”. Mr. Hay creates a juxtaposition between the unfortunate truth of being alone in the world and the fact that obsessively worrying about it is pointless and just makes it worse, hence overkill. As he says, “day after day, reappears. Night after night my heart shows the fear.” At the end of the day, when you are lying in bed, you can’t help thinking about what is wrong with your life. But the morning always comes and that’s a fresh start.

I feel emotionally tied to this song, maybe because I can’t help thinking recently that I am alone, and that sucks. Sure I have my family and friends, but I don’t have anyone to share my life with and I don’t really know anyone I can spend time with on a regular basis here in Philadelphia. I guess I am just feeling lonely. Maybe the the pressure and stress are just continuing to build (due to my midterm on Thursday) and I’m subconsciously diverting it to other areas of my life that are not so much in the “sunshine and pretty flowers” category.

So this past weekend I went up to Vermont for the annual Diplomacy tournament, Carnage on the Mountain. In case you can’t guess from the headline, I won for the second year in a row. I felt like in the first and second rounds I played great as I was the leader on both boards. My third game I played poorly, but the combination of all three rounds gave me enough points to be the winner. I am ecstatic about winning again, let alone winning any other tournament. I guess now I might have to consider stop denying the fact that I’m actually an above average player.

All my life I’ve dealt with low self-esteem. Until recently, I’ve never taken compliments well. I’ve always instinctively, and maybe subconsciously, tried to distance myself from people that show an interest in me. I’ve always found that the path of self-deprecation is just the easier route. I like to think of myself as just not being a braggart. But I don’t think that is the case. I certainly have the ability to gloat and boast about something, and put myself on a pedestal. I enjoy the act of self-aggrandizement because it just seems silly to me, the irony being that one who puts little value on himself usually does not present the image of being self-absorbed.

Anyway, Carnage was a great time. As always the best part of traveling to tournaments is getting to see my friends that I only see on these occasions. I think that is the main reason behind my drive to travel to tournaments, I get to hang out with my friends. This tournament is hosted in my favorite venue of any tournament I have ever been too. Why is this? Because we played Diplomacy in a bar. The bar is literally 10 feet away when we are playing. Needless to say, I got drunk. Friday night was an absolute blast. I dominated my board (I think, it’s still a little fuzzy), I got drunk, and we had great after hours drinking in the hotel room. A couple bottles of wine, good friends, and raucous conversations was probably the highlight of the weekend for me. That is, of course, besides winning the tournament. Below is a picture of me with the awards I won. In my right hand is the plaque for winning the tournament last year (don’t ask me why the present it the next year) and in my left is the Best Austria and Best Turkey awards I won. Behind me is the big board that was presented to me as a result of winning the tournament. Pretty sweet, right? That will definitely be a fantastic addition to HuskyCon VI next year. That board will look great on the dinning room table at home.

So I sliced off a sizable chunk of my index finger cutting off a piece of lemon for my very tall glass of vodka and it’s starting to hurt to type. So I’m signing off. Sorry about the lapse in posts it’s just that things have been a little hectic here. My midterm will be on Thursday and then it’s smooth sailing. Therefore I should be back with my posting schedule so look forward to another entry this Friday.

Enjoy the Beautiful Weather

I’ve come to the realization in the past few days that I have been completely infected by the environment of Buffalo.  It is 46 degrees out right now, and my windows are open.  I absolutely love the fact that it is cold outside and it is cold in my apartment.  A contributing factor to that could be that I spent the first two months in my new apartment sweating.  I would literally sit in my apartment in my boxers, and sweat, not doing anything, just sweating.  Needless to say, it was miserable.  But I don’t think that has much to do with it.  I was walking to class today and it was such an amazing day.  The shine was shining, the sky was clear, and it was about 50 degrees.  I wore jeans and a hoodie, and it was magnificent.  I don’t know why but for some strange reason I really enjoy the fact that it is cold out and I can wear something more than a t-shirt and not sweat just because I walked to class.

This weather is definitely helping me out during this period in my life.  My classes give me a lot of work to do and I have a lot of studying I have to do for my exams.  There is an incredible amount of pressure on me to do well; if I don’t get an A or a B in each of my classes then I don’t get credit for them.  And that is a huge waste of time and money if I fail to get credit for one of my classes.  In reality I am sure that as long as I do well on my final projects, getting a B should be no problem.  Nevertheless, I still worry about it constantly and the fact that I am procrastinating as much as have been the past two days is just building the pressure.  I have a midterm on Wednesday and I have studied a lot for it, but I still feel like there is more I should be doing to prepare myself for it.  I am going to my TA’s office hours tomorrow to go over some questions, but more likely than not most of my classmates will be there too.  I don’t know if there is more studying that I can do, I’ve already redone all of the homeworks up until this point, and in this class there’s not really any other kind of studying you can do.  I have already done the practice exam, but I am not satisfied with how well I did on it, so I need to review my work and notes, and then redo the exam.

I need to go to the gym, bad.

Just by writing that paragraph I am making myself more frustrated and stressed out.  I really need to go to the gym.  Like cooking, going to the gym is something I enjoy doing on a mental level.  It is a place where I don’t think, I just work my muscles.  All of the pent up energy that I accrue from my stress just flows out of me as I exhaust my muscles.  It’s one of the few things out of my day where I don’t do any mental work.  I do plenty of that when I pour over my homework and textbooks.  The gym is definitely not a place for textbooks.  On top of the therapeutic value of going to a gym, I get good exercise and improving my body.  Currently I am hovering around 180 lbs and I want to increase that.  At 6′3″, that’s definitely on the lower end of the spectrum of “healthy” weight.  My goal is to gain at least 10 lbs of muscle.  To me it seems like an ambitious goal, but if I keep hitting the gym hard and perhaps start taking protein supplements, it could be an attainable goal in a relatively short period of time (relative being a couple of months).  Anyway, I feel like 180 lbs is too thin for my height, so I want to gain muscle weight.  Hopefully I can maintain my workout schedule and achieve this.  I’ll know when the stress is getting me way too much when I fail to keep going to the gym.  That’s when I know I’ve hit bottom.

Sometimes I find myself really questioning where I’m going.  Where am I going to end up?  Where is the path I’ve chosen going to lead me?  Like, what is going to graduate school really getting me?  I hope it’ll make it a lot easier for me to find a good job when I finally get out of here.  But is that the real reason for me coming here?  Or am I just afraid to take the next step into the real world?  Am I unprepared for finding a job I want to do on my own and working towards getting it?  Working at my Dad’s company for the past three summers has been sort of a crutch for me, I think.  Not to say that I regret spending the summers working there, I think it’s just that I wasn’t able to get out on my own and find a job by my self.  I had to fall back on a sure thing.  When I look at it that way, I feel very disappointed in myself.  Sometimes I still feel like I’m not independent enough to really get out on my own.  And I question if coming to graduate school was a way to keep myself away from that responsibility until I’m ready to take it on.  When will I be ready to really spread my wings and fly?  I know that is a disgusting cliche, but I really can’t think of any better way to put it.  It troubles me to think this way, but sometimes I just can’t help it.  I can’t help thinking that in two years (hopefully) when I get my masters degree, I won’t be any different from how am I now.  As in, I won’t mature emotionally or psychologically.  I won’t make any new friends and who knows how long it will be before I meet someone I can date.  Never mind the fact that I am an emotionally closed-off person who has serious trust issues.  Will it be so long that I’ll settle for less than what I really want?  I hope not but I can’t stop thinking that I will.

In case you can’t tell, I am really good at neurotic thoughts and behavior, and my level of self-deprecation is just top notch.  It’s a very difficult cycle that I’ve been going through ever since high school.  Stress would start to build and I would get anxious, then it would turn my thoughts inward and I would start to continuously beat myself up for all of my failings.  Once I got to college, this process would then turn to binge drinking, which I did heavily.  That would usually last a few days to a week, a week of heavy drinking every day, even by myself if I had to.  I’m at a new stage in my life in that I’m making a real effort to not drink by myself.  Sure, I’ll have a drink or two with dinner, but other than that I don’t drink.  And in times like these when I find myself stressed and neurotic, I find that it takes real mental and physical effort to not just drown myself in a bottle of liquor.

I don’t know if writing these thoughts of mine is helping.  It certainly gives me a chance to be objective and honest with myself.  But I think I am always that way with myself, maybe even exaggerated a bit.  I don’t know if this helps with my stress, I feel a little better.  But on the same token, it brings to mind all the things make me the way I am now, and that’s not a good thing.  This doesn’t feel the same as cooking or going to the gym.  Maybe because this is more mental work and those activities are not.

Damn it, I’ve completely lost my train of thought.  Well, I don’t need to go on and on about this crap.  Until next time.

It’s Cold!

So it finally got cold around here. I’ve been waiting since the beginning of this damned month for a little chill, and it suddenly sneaked up on me yesterday. Just last week I would be wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and after walking the 1.3 miles to class, I’d be sweating. Well no more of that crap. I finally got to bring out my leather jacket that I love so much that’s been through the suck with me. I finally had the opportunity to wear something other than shorts without having to worry about sitting through class basting in my own sweat. Let me tell you, it’s not a pleasant feeling, or smell for that matter, to spend the entire day wallowing in your own genetic filth. Unless you’re in bed with a hot woman, then it’s totally cool. Anyway, it’s currently 55 degrees here and I’m loving the fact that I can sit in my apartment and not sweat like an overweight man going to town on a box of donuts.

Guitar Hero 3 comes out on Sunday, which I am excited for. This game is so addictive, I’m actually considering waiting until after my midterm on Wednesday to buy it. I’m afraid that if I get it on Sunday, I’m going to start playing it and not stop until it’s time to take the test. It’s that disgusting. This game reminds me of the stories of Koreans dying in gaming cafes after marathon sessions of StarCraft. Those people are absolutely crazy about that game and I never understood how you could subject yourself to what literally amounts to physical punishment just to play a game. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against physical punishment. I’ve never really experimented with the S&M stuff in the bedroom and I don’t know if I would enjoy it. But you know me, I’m game for pretty much anything; it could be fun, right? But literally dying from playing a game too much, that seemed way too far-fetched until I played Guitar Hero. If I didn’t have a modicum of will power and, dare I say, more than marginal intelligence, I could see myself playing that damned game until I had an aneurysm. Therefore, I surmise that it is probably a good idea to wait to buy that game.

In the next two weeks I have two midterms and I need to have my final projects finalized for all three of my classes. It’ll be nice to have my midterms out of the way, but working on a final project is such a pain in the ass. I think for the me the hardest part is actually deciding on what I want to work on. After that it’s a simple matter of research and implementation, more research and error correcting. That whole getting started thing takes a lot of initiative and effort, both of which I harbor a healthy distaste for. Anyway, just when it seems like I’ll have a respite from school and wham, a swift kick to the gonads in the form of a final project and I’m on the floor crying and vomiting.

Earlier this week I made Sicilian-style meatballs and they were absolutely fantastic. Sicilian-style meatballs are basically just regular meatballs with pine nuts and currants in them. The sweetness of the currents is offset really well by marjoram and parsley, making it a really nice combination of a little sweet with plenty of savory. I made these on Monday, or Tuesday, I can’t remember, and I’m still marveling over how good they are.

Cooking is been a passion of mine that was sparked by my father way back in high school (it may have been earlier, but I don’t think so). As a consequence of my living conditions throughout college, I didn’t have access to a kitchen that would be deemed usable or sanitary until just last year. Because of this my culinary explorations were stymied until that time, at which point it pretty much exploded. Now that I have my own apartment and my own kitchen, I can make whatever I want. I’m ripping through different recipes from magazines and the collection of cookbooks I have amassed, and I gotta say it’s one of the few really therapeutic things I get to do in my day. To me, cooking is enjoyable and relaxing. I put on some good music, pour myself a glass of wine, and go to work. I find that cooking is one area where I can think dynamically and be creative with different ingredients and spices and just see what happens. If whatever I made turns out bad, no big deal, lesson learned. What I like to do is try different recipes until I find one I like, then the next time I make it, I’ll put my own spin on it by experimenting with different vegetables or spices to create a dish of my own that is palatable.

For some reason I’m dyslexic or something because I keep misspelling or completely omitting words. I think it’s the hookah I smoked earlier, it definitely puts your brain on scramble for a few hours. Anyway, this is starting to take too much effort, so I’m signing off for now. Until next time.

My Back Hurts

So I went to the gym yesterday and, obviously, worked my back muscles. I overdid it just a tad, because now my back feels like it’s wound up like a hemp rope. The irony is that I did this before about a month ago when I first started working out again after a long hiatus. I go through cycles of months of working out consistently, to months of not working out at all. Well after a month or two of not working out over the summer, let me tell you, my back was not happy about it. Every time I get back into an exercise schedule, I always hurt myself because for some reason I try to jump right back into lifting the weights I was doing right before I stopped. Even when I try to scale it back so I don’t hurt myself, I end up doing it anyway. It’s really frustrating because I usually have to take at least a week off from going to the gym so that I can lift my school bag without feeling pain (or bending down, in this case).

Fortunately, my back is not as bad as the last time I did this. I think I will be OK by the time I am supposed to do my back again. You have to be really careful to not overextend yourself (like I did) when exercising your back muscles. Much like your shoulders, your back will just keep working and working and won’t complain about it until that night or the next day. You could be in the gym just wailing away on your back and feel fine, but in a few hours you’ll barely be able to walk. Considering this, I always try to be careful not to over do it with my back, but clearly that doesn’t always work out too well. The annoying part is that I even did one less set of exercises to give my back a rest! Oh well, I guess I’ll get over it.

I know I’ve been delinquent in posting pictures of my neighborhood, so finally here they are. Make sure you click on them because I’m too lazy to figure out how to make the entire picture to show up on the page, not cropped like they are now:

This is the view out of my living room windows. Keep in mind I am on the third floor, so you can get an idea of how big this tree is. The leaves are just starting to turn to beautiful shades of red and yellow. It also creates a really nice filtered-light effect so that my apartment is illuminated by the sun, but never gets too bright. I love the sound of leaves rustling in the wind–one of my favorite night-time sounds from back home–so this tree is a welcome comfort.

This is a view of the street intersecting the street I live on. My street is the second on the right, after the three cars parked on the right.

This is my street. My apartment building is the first doorway on the right. A lot of the streets in my immediate area are lined with trees and these old brown-stone buildings, it’s a really unique area that I think truly shows the elegance of the old city. It’s hard to believe that I’m only a few blocks away from city hall and downtown Philadelphia, huh?

This is the opposite view of the second picture. I walk this walk almost every day for school and going to the gym. You can see a couple of the skyscrapers in the background. There are a lot more on either side of the street, but the buildings in the foreground are blocking them.

So that’s my neighborhood, what do you think? To me it has a lot of character and has that old money, colonial feel to it that I enjoy. It’s in a good area near downtown so as far as I know there is little crime (as compared to west Philly) and it is usually very quiet. About once a night I’ll hear sirens, but I’m used to that after spending four years in the ghetto of Buffalo. This week for some reason there has been some kind of truck going by at 5 AM that is really loud. I think it is a street cleaner or something, but God knows why it needs to clean the streets so early.

Right now I’m listening to Dave Matthew’s Band – Grace is Gone. I never really liked this band, but after I went to a performance at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center, I really got into their music. It’s really heartfelt, soulful music. This particular song is a lament to a woman, Grace, leaving him, and he’s sitting in bar (shocking, I know). My favorite line is: “Excuse me, please? One more drink. Could you make it strong? ‘Cuz I don’t need to think.” For some reason this line strikes a chord in me, I’m not sure why, maybe because I know all too well the feeling of just wanting to drink until I can’t feel or think anymore. I think it’s no secret that I’ve struggled with stress and depression pretty much my entire adult life, and alcohol is a release that I have abused way too much in the past. But that’s a topic that could go on and on, and, like I wrote in my last post, I don’t want to be writing essays here that are so long people don’t care to read them. So I’ll save that one for another time.

Change it up

So yeah, I changed the title a little. I came to the realization that the title of a blog is just as insignificant as the blog itself. I mean, the fact that I can type words into my computer and post it on the internet doesn’t make it important. I’m just one person typing for whatever reason I can come up with that day. As is obvious, I haven’t found the inspiration to write since my first post. I was stressed out with school then, I was angry, I was frustrated. I had a drink or two (or 20, but who’s counting) and I’ve managed to work out some of the stress. Now that I’ve calmed down, I don’t think it’s necessary to have an obscenely suggestive headline to my life.

I like this new title, because it is me. I really don’t care if you don’t like me. This is me and this is how I’m going to live my life. I’m not here to entertain you or make you feel better about yourself. When it comes down to it, you’ve got to look out for number 1, right? And in my life, I’m number 1. Everyone else is last. In the words immortalized by the film Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby, “There can’t be two number 1s, that wouldn’t work. Oh, right, ‘cuz that would make 11.” Classic.

So where am I now? Well I just had my first midterm last week. It definitely did not go as well as I had hoped. But in all honestly that is my fault because I definitely did not take the time required to be fully prepared for it. Oh well, lesson learned. The slap to the face that was my exam has given me the focus to really take this graduate school seriously. I got through undergraduate school through my brains alone (I mean, c’mon, a state school is not that hard), but this is the big leagues. There is no room for error. I have another midterm in two weeks and I am going to start studying for it tomorrow. I’m going to be ready for this test.

I bought an Xbox 360. Probably not the best decision considering my recent lack of focus on school, but I have been thinking about getting one for a long time and I am happy that I did. The system definitely dominated my time over the weekend, but now that that is over it’s crunch time. I’m only going to use the 360 as a break between bouts of studying.

Pretty much all of my friends do their studying in the library. I could never understand this because I simply can’t do work in the library. I just can’t concentrate without something in the background engaging the part of my brain that wants to think about random stuff and replay events in my head (usually something from that day that pissed me off). I always need to have music playing when I study. I don’t know why, but it works for me. I guess if I really wanted to do work in a library, I could buy an IPod or something, but why waste the money when I can just study at home in front of my computer? I’m a big metal head, so I like to have my music blasting, completely enveloping me in the cacophony of sound and vibrations from the speakers and sub woofer. You can literally feel the power behind the music when you do this, it’s almost intoxicating.

I am going to try to post more often from now on, on a regular basis. I want to shoot for at least Monday, Wednesday, Friday. In writing this post, I have found that the words just flow out of me and I want to go in so many different directions at once. I could probably write 5 pages of rambling nonsense before I got tired of it. But nobody wants to read that, so I’m cutting it off here. Tomorrow is one of my days off so I am definitely, definitely going to be taking pictures of my neighborhood and posting them here. Check back on Wednesday to see them.

Massaged my what?

 

Wouldn’t you like to know? Frankly, I would too. I know what it means to me, but what does it mean to you? I like the idea of leaving it open so that you actually have to think about it. Don’t think too hard though, heaven forbid you have an aneurysm or something. I’m sure you are all thinking that it is something sexual, like you just massaged my genitalia while I take a dump and read Sodomizing Horses Weekly, well shame on you you dirty pervert.

 

The point of the title to my page is that you are pandering to my self-serving, narcissistic attitude by simply visiting my page. You are reading my thoughts and ideas, and what does this tell me? That I am more important than you. Does this mean I am better than you? God I hope not, but I certainly am capturing your attention up until at least the last sentence, when you surf to another pointless web page in disgust.

 

Do I really want your attention though? I don’t know, maybe somewhere deep down in my colon, I do. But I like to tell my self that I don’t care if you like what I write or not. This is my space to rant about what pisses me off or what makes me laugh; this is my space to be myself and not give a damn what other people think. I need an outlet for venting and this seems like a good enough venue where I can hopefully piss off as many people as possible. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to just write anything to piss someone off, like “the Jews had it coming” or something. I am about voicing my opinion and standing by my morals. And if you agree with me, great, leave me a comment and let me know. If you don’t agree with me, that’s fine too, but I’ll probably just ignore you if you try to vocalize that opinion. Because, as we’ve already established, you are taking time out of your day to read my thoughts, and therefore, I am more important than you.

 

I think a focal point of this blog will be an incessant, rambling, mental vomit that will hopefully work out all of the accrued aggression I come across during the day. I mean, I can only take so much before I light my hair on fire and run down the street screaming. What is that pushes me this far? Pretty much everything, really. It would take way too long to list them all here, so I’ll just be discussing them as I come across them in my day to day life. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Hopefully I will be able to effect a modicum of humor, which will provide some level of entertainment. Which will result in people actually reading my blog because they want to and not because they feel obligated to for one reason or another.

I already don’t remember what I wrote about at the beginning of this post; it’s my ability to ramble at its greatest. Hopefully it is not so incoherent that I need to go back and edit it. I don’t think that is the point of writing a blog, is it? This is supposed to be honesty, this is me. And if you don’t like it, I don’t care. Enjoy!