Sunday, December 12, 2004

Somewhere Out There, cont.

XIV

She’s crying. Laurice stands at my open door, eyes irritated, gleaming with wet tears. It’s late at night, about 2 a.m. It hurts to look in the light, my eyes haven’t adjusted yet. She looks tired. I just stand there, waiting for her to say something, the sound of crickets chirping, the sound of night. It’s rhythmical.

She says nothing. Stands there.

I say, “Come in,” and push her back gently as she steps in, sobbing. I say, “What’s wrong?” She only stares at me, her eyes gleaming, her black hair. “Laurice.” “Laurice, what’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, saying no. “No,” she says. “No.” “No,” in a whisper. “No.”

I come over to her, play with her hair, twirl it around my finger, feel it. I look her in the face. She looks at me. “No.” It’s all she can say. She sniffles. I put my hand on her face, wetting my hand from tears. I move onto her pouty lips, and put my finger away. Still wet.

I say, “Let’s go lie down in my bed.” She nods her head, I hold her hand and push her over to my room, into my bed.

We lie there in darkness, from the window is moonlight. She says, “I’m sorry.”

I say, “Don’t be.”

“I won’t.”

She says, “Thinking into the future is a bad thing.”

“Is that what’s wrong?”

She only turns her head to me, and stares.

I say, “I know what you mean. It is scary to think where we will be in twenty years, or even ten.” She nods her head at me, the tears have mostly stopped from her. “The unknown is a scary thing,” I say.

“Yes, it is.”

We stare off into blackness, a wondering, asking blackness. “There are so many paths to choose,” I say, “so many different roads. But each leads to the same ending. And in every future – the farthest future you can see, the farthest away – we are all going to be forgotten. You, me, them, us, him, her, it – everything.”

She says in a whisper, “I know. Oh god, I know.” She seems on the brim of crying again. I move over to her. I play with her hair again. Twirl it, push it over my face. Pet it.

“Your hair is pretty,” I say.

She looks at me with defeated eyes. I eye her back equally defeated. She puts her hand around my face and moves it slowly along, then away. She moves her face closer to mine. We can feel each other’s breaths.

We kiss.

XV
When I’m not at school, not doing homework, not with Laurice, not doing whatever else my dull, inheld schedule causes me to have to waste my time with, I’m working. System slaving. Doing one for the world. Giving to this society that’s just given me so much. I’m earning the mighty dollar.

The dollar is my own something of a god. I was brought up like most every other American – as a Christian – but I long ago turned from that. Turned from this notion of “god,” but now I know he’s real. There isn’t a doubt – god is somewhat of a thing called money. It just has to be true, it even says it on the back of the goddamned thing – “In god we trust.” God is an avarice. a greed, an endless well of materialistic desires and needs which shall never be welted.

It’s just as Gatsby was in The Great Gatsby – and that is what we all are. We create ourselves, we make ourselves our own god. We seek for the American dream, the so-called myth, and get disillusioned towards it. Who we are is just kids that try to grow up and get lost and tangled up as hell. We end up making ourselves something but it is never us.

Where I work is a clothing store. It’s kind of a wonder I work there, but it’s where I work. I have no sense of clothing style – it is just more of a materialistic wasteland to me, where people try to satiate their wants with things. What clothes someone wears is something that determines how you view them, but I’m not into it.

The main reason I work there is there’s a lot of hot women who stroll their pretty way around the place. I just set my eyes on them and imagine things.

Oh, I might think – there’s Ms. Hot Blonde, she’s got a nice bosom, nice flank – and in my head we’ll be doing naughty things. She’ll be cradling her arms around me like I’m the only baby for her, and I’ll stroke her hair, tell her how fine it is, I’ll feel her breasts firmly pressed against my chest, then she’ll start yanking off my shirt, I’ll start pushing hers up, feeling the nice skin of her back as I do, and we’ll go in for a kiss, I’ll feel her fine lips on my lips—

What usually happens is I get lost in daydreams, lost in my imagination, and someone will come to the cash register, to purchase their items, and they’ll just appear there, with this look on their faces that says “Snap out of it and come back to earth,” and I’ll give them this stupid selling smile, tell them I am sorry, then proceed to scan up their pointless clothes they’ll wear to some place.

If the woman who I’m doing this for is hot, and maybe if she has a thong, I’ll tell her she’s going to be making some pervert happy. Sometimes I’ll even ask for their numbers if they’ve got some really promiscuous clothes and some really tight body you just want to make a flesh canopy around. I am turned down quite often, but it doesn’t ever hurt a crazy bastard such as me at all. You go with the punches, and don’t get hit down when they come, but dodge. Or fake dodge.

Plus you work with smoking burning itching sweltering hot women. They wear fine clothes too, and you just want to rope them all together in a herd and take turns at them day-by-day. On Monday, take her in the bathroom on break, get some action. Tuesday, her. Friday, her, Saturday her, any day of the week, her.

I’ve even snuck into the womens’ changing room a few times, and sneeked a peek at them stripping.

My job still sucks despite all the women. You just can’t be horny all the time, and you get ornery when people come up to you all the time asking you where you can find some pants, or a t-shirt, when it’s right in front of their faces. Or if they come up to you asking if “this looks good on me” and you have to supply some answer. It’s pitiful to answer such a question.

I’ll probably be at the godforsaken whore house of a place my entire life. I’ll probably not even pass college and just fade away into the back, a mist which people pass through. I’ll keep on being the crazy bastard, my Gatsby of myself, the person I really don’t care to be but am because I can’t be who I really am because I don’t know who that is. The truth is I really am nothing. I came from nothing, and I shall be expunged to nothing inevitably. Someone’s dying out there, maybe it will be me soon enough. Maybe I will be bartered over, away from this teeming place of pointlessness ticking and tocking its way around, careening about sinuously and mechanically.

Until then all you can do is keep on, and give other people strength, and use other peoples’ strength they give you. Keep spinning around with the world. Keep thinking about her and her crying that night and how I made her feel better, and how if I focus on her and making her happy I won’t have to worry about making myself happy, because I can never be happy. Keep giving the fake smile to the customers, dreaming off and coming to with them in front of you. Push aside your lust and give them their service, so they can have their fabric that they cover up their beautiful bodies with. Keep making the paper money, the fiat money – issued by government decree. Save it up, get enough to retire some day way off in hell. Die sometime and have everything pass away as a dream dreamt by some other dream within a dream within a dream all hazy and unobscure, lost within the lost.

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Wednesday, December 8, 2004

He thought he was pretty crazy if crazy was crazy

I went pretty crazy at the Steak Buffet tonight. I was blabbering on and on about things, and was doing other things.

They gave me a computer monitor today, because they got a new one, so I got the old one, for free. I took it out to my car after work, and then went back in and out came Kuuntz. As he went in his car, he dangled out a power cord and went in. Then Davey came out, and chased me. I was a faster runner than him and he never caught me. He got in his car and acted as if he was going to run me over, and then drove off and I ran on after him, crazily. I didn't catch up so I went back to Kuunt's truck and Davey drove by a few more times then left.

Kuuntz then backed out and drove off with his truck, and I ran and followed his truck, and eventually I hopped in its back, but my foot was only on it so I pivoted off, and then I chased again and this time got on top of it, and laid inside, but then he suddenly accelerated and I fell off, scraped my face a bit, cut my hand pretty deep, scraped myself on one part of my side, scraped my knee, my elbow, my glasses fell from my face, the lenses came out.

I stood up immediately. It did not hurt too much. Kuuntz came back and asked me if I was okay, and then he got out and I told him I was fucked, because for sure my glasses were broken. I kept saying I wasn't too badly injured.

He picked up my glasses, told me to get in his truck and drove me to my car, and then I remembered I had long ago kept some napkins from a fast food place (it is something my grandpa does), and I got them and soaked up the blood from my hand and my head and walked over to Kuuntz, and stood in the cold while he tried to repair my glasses.

After what seemed like forever he was done, and then I came home.

My dad was here. I lied to him at first, and then told him the truth bit-by-bit, and then told him I didn't want him to call Kuuntz or tell anyone about it because he doesn't even have his license and he drives.

The whole time at the Steak Buffet and even now I have had this sense of euphoria - perhaps this is the "runner's high" they speak of. Everything sort of feels surreal.

This is the first time I've gotten wounds in a while.

Kuuntz asked me why I had even tried to get on his truck, and I told him today I was crazy, I would do anything. I think that says it enough.

I have homework to do but I won't do it because I just don't have it in me.

Now that I think about it I'm sick of the ruthlessness of my life right now. It's way too compressed, I never get to do what I want anymore. Always working or relaxing or something else. . .
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Monday, December 6, 2004

100 words each.

The Pessimist stepped out his house wearing a face askew. “Why isn’t this a yellow-as-piss day,” he said. He watched people weed the sidewalks, their faces fake happiness, watched cars scuttle, pollution trails following, saw the blearing sun smiling.

Crazed grin he stepped in the street’s middle. A car stopped, another behind it, others, until a line formed. Multitudes of honking, pedestrians turn unhappy faces toward him, strangled from petty lives.

He dug in his pocket, took out some dust, scattered it in the wind. It whisked away. “You’re just dust in the wind.” Walking away, his pointless day began.

---

he shot the sun watched the lights go out around the globe smiled a yellow as piss smile sure he heard half the world shocked being eternally bathed in perilous night pressing against them the world was forever shut down but still spinning around blanketed in shadows in a well-founded darkness that he wished for in his deepest self.

he shut his tired wasted eyes feeling sleepful dreams slither in his head playing pretty dancing dreams of nothing tap dancing in blindness he hoped to never open his eyes ever hoped he would dream forever so his dreams became reality.

---

the paper's blank the words will create a disillusioned streak to make the blank a meaning when none is greening on a grass yellowing nothing harsh on my back as i roll along it stamping my form in its surface leaving an impression that will die with the death each breath another sigh to the inevitable end it may bend but there's nothing to send to the future's far away heart it will only fall apart a hollow shuttle too frail weak and infirm even though all i've learned earned when it wastes i waste i feel just a taste.
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Sunday, December 5, 2004

Wilco - Jesus, Etc.

Jesus, don't cry
You can rely on me honey
You can combine anything you want

I'll be around
You were right about the stars
Each one is a setting sun

Tall buildings shake
Voices escape singing sad sad songs
Tuned to chords strung down your cheeks
Bitter melodies turning your orbit around

Don't cry
You can rely on me honey
You can come by any time you want

I'll be around
You were right about the stars
Each one is a setting sun

Tall buildings shake
Voices escape singing sad sad songs
Tuned to chords strung down your cheeks
Bitter melodies turning your orbit around

Voices whine
Skyscrapers are scraping together
Your voice is smoking
Last cigarettes are all you can get
Turning your orbit around

Our love
Our love
Our love is all we have

Our love
Our love is all of God's money
Everyone is a burning sun

Tall buildings shake
Voices escape singing sad sad songs
Tuned to chords strung down your cheeks
Bitter melodies turning your orbit around

Voices whine
Skyscrapers are scraping together
Your voice is smoking
Last cigarettes are all you can get
Turning your orbit around

Last cigarettes are all you can get
Turning your orbit around
Last cigarettes are all you can get
Turning your orbit around
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Saturday, December 4, 2004

Long, winding chat.

Maarii88: hey mitch
machineofbones: HI
Maarii88: how's it?
machineofbones: what is a good person like you doing hear
machineofbones: WELL!!
Maarii88: just a bit lonesome.and stuff. felt like checking in with you. making sure your still alive. '
machineofbones: OK
Maarii88: you like capitals?
machineofbones: YES I DO
Maarii88: i see
Maarii88: everything else in your life?
machineofbones: Yes yes yes.
Maarii88: right
Maarii88: *sigh*
machineofbones: BACON!!!
Maarii88: *humming alone to herself* right then. i'll leave you to it
machineofbones: YEs
machineofbones: have you ever play GTASA?
Maarii88: no
machineofbones: IT is cool
Maarii88: sure
machineofbones: That was all my stupid brother.
Maarii88: eh?
machineofbones: My brother was talking to you, and I didn't know, and I just came in the room and kicked him off.
Maarii88: oh
Maarii88: tell your brother that he's dumb. and I mean that as a compliment
machineofbones: He's 13, and rather annoying most of the time.
machineofbones: His sole existence is to play video games.
Maarii88: i kind of got that
machineofbones: As evidenced by what he was talking to you about.
Maarii88: just from that tiny little conversation - if it could even be called that
machineofbones: I have played GTA: San Andreas about 5 hours since I got it weeks ago - he's probably played it about 100 or so now, and I'm not kidding by any amount.
Maarii88: wowsuh. scary
Maarii88: well. how are you really?
machineofbones: I'm sick.
Maarii88: now that i'm on with the real mitch. ohhhhh how sad. everyone is getting sick and i'm only getting lonely
machineofbones: My ears are plugged up, everytime I swallow I feel my sore throat, just a bit ago my eye was watering and feeling irratated.
machineofbones: *irritated
machineofbones: Runny nose.
Maarii88: ohhh *sends a healing hug Mitch's way* feel better
Maarii88: drink fluids
Maarii88: get sleep
Maarii88: and all that.
machineofbones: Well it didn't feel this bad most of today. It's because I was at work and had to wash, and was exposed to the smell of bleach and other crap the whole time.
Maarii88: *big frown*yuckness
machineofbones: Yupl
machineofbones: That's what they've had me doing there for about 1 month and a half straight now.
machineofbones: Every day, wash wash wash wash wash.
machineofbones: I've become pretty proficent at it, though.
Maarii88: still. that sucks. I'd quit. but that's just me
machineofbones: I can't. I've got to pay my car payment each month. I'd have to get a new job first.
Maarii88: uhg
Maarii88: well. i'm billless. sooo
machineofbones: Plus I want to save up some money.
Maarii88: good iddea
machineofbones: Which isn't working out too well.
Maarii88: well. another ugh.
machineofbones: Yup. Life sucks.
Maarii88: i'm glad your life seems sooo ..... happy. and wonderful
machineofbones: Yes, this week was pretty bad.
Maarii88: me too
machineofbones: My iPod was stolen, blah blah blah. I won't labor down the details.
Maarii88: o_o yikes. god. certainly sucked
machineofbones: Yeah, most people are such idiots.
Maarii88: as in stealin?
machineofbones: They cannot understand the simple knowledge that stealing is wrong.
machineofbones: I mean, but I guess it was okay. It only cost me $300. . .
machineofbones: But oh well.
Maarii88: that's still a big chunk of money
machineofbones: Yes, and the above was sarcasm.
Maarii88: i get
Maarii88: it
Maarii88: now. sorry - i'm not in tip top shape of brain
machineofbones: It's fine.
Maarii88: no - it's not. but waht can you do
machineofbones: Mhm. Well, it really doesn't matter to me. I'm pretty brain dead right now too I'd say.
Maarii88: yeah
Maarii88: most
Maarii88: of
Maarii88: us
Maarii88: are
Maarii88: - - -
Maarii88: uhg
machineofbones: I would go to bed if I could go to bed. It's going to take a while to fall asleep with the annoyance of my nose and other things.
Maarii88: i imagine so
machineofbones:
Maarii88: what?
machineofbones: I didn't say anything.
Maarii88: oh
Maarii88: sorry
Maarii88: how's the holiday for you
machineofbones: I don't even feel a sense of holiday.
machineofbones: The last time I enjoyed Christmas was when I was a kid. That was four or so years ago.
Maarii88: mmm. don't depress me more. mitch.
machineofbones: Plus, I do not believe in the religion which the holiday is fashioned after.
machineofbones: I am agnostic.
machineofbones: Although, I suppose I can see something in giving others presents.
Maarii88: well. i'm not talking specific holiday here. any and all of them
machineofbones: But rather than waste money and get material things, I'd rather write something to them and read it to them. It would be worth far more.
machineofbones: I don't feel anything at all on any holiday really. Halloween is probably my favorite, just because it is in the fall - my favorite month - and is often creepy and so on, like I like it.
machineofbones: The main thing I enjoy about holidays is you get a break from school and work.
Maarii88: great for you, mitch.
Maarii88: i love christmas. but it hates me
machineofbones: Yes, it is great for me.
machineofbones: I don't know how you really said that to me, since this is only text, but all I did was give you an answer to your question.
machineofbones: Why does Christmas hate you?
Maarii88: I don't know. I just know it does.
machineofbones: Whatever that is supposed to mean - I have no clue what you're getting at.
Maarii88: well. do you need to? No.
Maarii88: if you want to .. that's another thing
machineofbones: Oh well then, nevermind.
machineofbones: What is the point of a conversation where what is conversed about is not even answered?
Maarii88: i don't know....... i am answering. ... replying. what'd the big deal? I'm not allowed to be pissy like everybody else?!
machineofbones: Don't overgeneralize. Not everyone is "pissy," heh. I'm not pissy.
Maarii88: no ... you're a self-congratulated ass.
machineofbones: I just was wondering what you meant by what you said, that Christmas hates you. Oh well.
machineofbones: Swearing at me isn't going to do much of anything, you know. Even if I am in a bad mood I don't call you names.
Maarii88: what?! it doesn't make sense? Christmas hates me. Noun verb and .. whatever.
machineofbones: . . .
machineofbones: Christmas is a thing, it is not alive, therefore it cannot hate.
Maarii88: i'm always lonely. i'm always sad. i'm always angry. I'm always looking around at all the self-absorbed people everywhere
Maarii88: and nothing is right.
machineofbones: And the irony is that you are self-absorbed like everyone else?
Maarii88: during christmas...... no..... ..... i like people
machineofbones: But you're lonely, angry, sad. Those sound like inward, absorbing feelings to me.
Maarii88: they are inward but... i just want to see happiness. i try to spread it..... i care about these people. .. I do..
machineofbones: If you're lonely, go find someone. If you're angry, use the anger and it will be abated. If you are sad, find something which humors you and whiles away the sadness.
Maarii88: ...... that's not it.
machineofbones: Happiness is a lie to me.
Maarii88: and I don't expect you to understand. God only knows why i'm telling the ultimate pessimist about this
machineofbones: Well it sounds like you need someone to talk to.
Maarii88: you don't even want happiness.. for yourself or others
machineofbones: I am someone, you know.
machineofbones: I'm not an ultimate pessimist.
Maarii88: yeah - but a someone who only worsens my problems by indulging them
machineofbones: I care about other people, too.
Maarii88: yeah? i don't see it , mitch. i don't.
machineofbones: Well you've not met me.
Maarii88: you're right. i haven't
Maarii88: but you wouldn't be up there telling me.... would you.
machineofbones: Telling what?
Maarii88: that you care about people. ... i think I've only heard you say that once. just now
machineofbones: Any human being cares about some people.
Maarii88: actualy - i don't think that's true
machineofbones: Go ahead and explain why you don't think it's true.
Maarii88: and i don't know why You of all people would say it.
Maarii88: i think some people are so disillusioned with the world that they think caring does not exist and they close themselves off completely
machineofbones: There are people who don't care about others, but generally, people care about at least one other person than themselves.
Maarii88: generally - not all the time. -- not like I'm saying you don't. i'm sure you do. you're too thoughtful not to
machineofbones: Sometimes I do not care, other times I do.
Maarii88: it's that easy to turn off for you?
machineofbones: I'm not in the same type of mood every day you know.
Maarii88: obviously. who is...... but ...... it's just strange. i guess
machineofbones: When you think about it, the ultimate reason you care about others is for yourself.
machineofbones: It makes you feel better.
Maarii88: ........ it doesn't for me
machineofbones: So it makes you feel worse to care for others?
machineofbones: Then why do you care then?
machineofbones: If you did not care then you wouldn't feel worse.
Maarii88: it doesn't make me feel better ...... but i can't not do it. I hate caring about my friends who don't really know me. my family .............................................. everybody, people in general who don't even want my caring.
Maarii88: i CAN'T not care. ..... it's a part of me
Maarii88: and I can't get rid of it
Maarii88: i've tried. ... but i end up caring anyway... even if I don't like somebody....
machineofbones: Well with that mindset you certainly can't.
machineofbones: You can do anything, within limitations.
Maarii88: no. Mitch, I have seriously tried so hard to stop caring about people. I mean, as soon as I let my guard down, I'm in again. wondering. thinking.
machineofbones: But it is hard for me to understand, because I'm not you and haven't really ever cared for others in the deeper level you do.
Maarii88: caring
Maarii88: why?
Maarii88: why why why why? i don't GET it!!!
machineofbones: Don't get what? How I can't understand?
machineofbones: Or why you care?
Maarii88: no..... how you can't care! that's the thing! people just refuse to care.....
Maarii88: because it is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo HARD
machineofbones: Well that is just for you.
Maarii88: it kills me. it does.
machineofbones: People are different.
machineofbones: Not everyone is the same.
Maarii88: if it were easy, everyone would do it.
Maarii88: what i mean is..... if caring didn't cost anything
Maarii88: then EVERY person would care as much as possible. really.
Maarii88: but that's not how it works
machineofbones: Well, America is all about individualism.
machineofbones: It is what I've been brought up, and it is so encased in all I am, that is just who I am.
machineofbones: I care about me, and that is about as far as it goes. And sometimes I do not really care about me, either.
Maarii88: you know what, though? I was raised here too. I was raised in America in this society in these times. but why can't I say that?
machineofbones: Well, I don't know.
machineofbones: How was your childhood?
machineofbones: Did your parents hug you every day, kiss you every day.
machineofbones: Did something condition you to care? I don't know.
Maarii88: no. not everyday. yeah. i love my parents. but... my life wasn't perfect. it was just life.
Maarii88: i had the conditioning that people can get from ...... being a human
machineofbones: Well, scientifically, genes play a role in who we are, and so does the enviroment - how you are raised, etc.
Maarii88: so?
machineofbones: Those two combined together make you who you are
Maarii88: are you going to fall back on that? as some kind of excuse? '
Maarii88: that's pathetic.
Maarii88: we are who we choose to be.
machineofbones: I disagree completely.
machineofbones: We have no choice.
machineofbones: We don't choose our genes.
machineofbones: Our enviroment.
Maarii88: but we choose our actions, our thoughts, our feelings.
machineofbones: We have some choice in the matter, yes.
Maarii88: we choose what is inside our minds.
Maarii88: and that is who we are.
machineofbones: No, it is not. There is still who you are physically.
machineofbones: By choosing what's in our minds that does not make us who we are physically.
machineofbones: That is predefined by genes.
machineofbones: And then enviroment changes it a bit.
Maarii88: physically..... is just shallow. ...... what if you were blind?
machineofbones: Often when someone loses a sense, the other senses are heightned.
Maarii88: so what? I'm talking about that transcendental thing. .. you know.. like a soul. it's the person we are inside. this core of being. humanity
machineofbones: So I'd imagine I wouldn't see things physically, but I'd still interact with the physical in some way.
machineofbones: I don't believe in souls.
Maarii88: yeah . but that's all a matter of perception. which we can control
Maarii88: why the fuck would you not believe in souls?
machineofbones: Because as far as I see there is none.
Maarii88: but .... hello! idiot, you have one!
machineofbones: Okay. Where is it?
machineofbones: Can you touch it?

Maarii88: why do i need to touch it? can you touch history?
machineofbones: You can read about it and you know it happened in some way, but perhaps not the exact way it is written about.
machineofbones: A soul, you don't know if it exists for real or not.
Maarii88: but you don't know if history exsits or not.
Maarii88: you just want to believe it
machineofbones: No, history is a fact. But it depends on how far back in history we are talking about.
machineofbones: For things closer to our time, there is video. There is proff.
machineofbones: *proof
machineofbones: There are veterans of wars, etc.
Maarii88: that's not proof. it's just pictures.
Maarii88: it's not the entirety of a situation
Maarii88: that's like saying that this picture of my eye and the red puffyness is the exact account of my life
machineofbones: We're organic machines. We have our brains, our brains get sensation and we turn it into perception - how we see things.
Maarii88: yes. it's the how. the how we can control. thought process.
Maarii88: history is memory
Maarii88: subject to humanity's interpretation
machineofbones: As I said, history did happen, but what is written in a text may not be entirely accurate, and yes, it is definitely opinionated.
machineofbones: But it still did happen.
Maarii88: then a soul IS real
machineofbones: How so?
machineofbones: It is defined as "The disembodied spirit of a dead human."
Maarii88: because you didn't witness history. okay. but you still believe it. because of these facts and whatever. you want to belive it. and if you want to believe in a soul.. then it's real too. mitch, even after you died... I'd remember you. and you'd still be here. in my memories, or in words, or pictures, or something. you still exist.
Maarii88: existence is soul
machineofbones: But existence does not last forever.
Maarii88: yes. it does
machineofbones: You don't know this.
Maarii88: because matter isnot destroyed. can not be
machineofbones: Yes, but you have to be able to sense existence and then perceive it.
Maarii88: you don't knowthat the egyptians built the pyramids
machineofbones: Matter can continue to float around, but once you are dead, you are dead.
Maarii88: but you are rememberdc
Maarii88: remembered
machineofbones: Eventually, mankind will go extinct.
machineofbones: It is inevitable.
machineofbones: Will I be remembered then?
machineofbones: No.
Maarii88: yes
Maarii88: by the earth that held you and holds you still
machineofbones: Eventually the sun will become a red giant and swallow the earth.
Maarii88: by your particles bumping into other particles .. recognizing you
machineofbones: Or rather, recognizing what was once me. What is no longer me at all.
machineofbones: Just a lifeless, dead thing, gone through decay, and so on.
Maarii88: but still. you're particles.
Maarii88: you don't cease to exist
machineofbones: I cease to perceive, and others cease to perceive me. That is the existence I am talking about.
machineofbones: Being alive.
machineofbones: Not just being some floating particle.
Maarii88: sooo what? you'll always be alive.
machineofbones: No.
Maarii88: yes
machineofbones: How?
Maarii88: because how will you know when you're not?
machineofbones: When I die.
machineofbones: I will know then.
Maarii88: no.... you won't know when you die. you won't be able to know
machineofbones: I do not know what happens when you die, and I am not going to worry about it till it comes.
Maarii88: you're brain will stop
Maarii88: therefore. all you will ever know is alive . ....
machineofbones: I would like to just be nothing though, not have any consciousness at all, just be gone.
Maarii88: sadly, you can't be
Maarii88: not anymore
machineofbones: This doesn't mean souls exist. I do not know if they do or not. I will know it when I know it. Until then, it is a petty idea that might hold some truth and may not.
Maarii88: why?
Maarii88: why don't you believe it. what thing inside you keeps you from believing in something so simple and so profoundly ... .... human.
machineofbones: Because it is not an undeniable truth.
Maarii88: nothing is
machineofbones: I already know this.
machineofbones: Nothingness is an undeniable truth.
Maarii88: no ....... i deny it
machineofbones: lol
machineofbones: Even though the words already wrote themselves.
Maarii88: i do... i defy nothingness. i don't believe it .
Maarii88: it's not my truth
machineofbones: Well, that I respect. I don't fully understand but I respect it and it is your right to believe as you wish. I hope it makes you stronger.
Maarii88: you make yourself weak mitch. make yourself unhappy
Maarii88: i wish
Maarii88: ........... *sigh
machineofbones: Weak because I don't believe in empty things? All it is is a mind finding reasons when reasons aren't there.
machineofbones: But of course what I believe is an empty thing to you.
Maarii88: weak because you won't try. weak because you don't want to anymore
Maarii88: nothing is empty. if it's not empty to you
machineofbones: Oh, I try at things. I put myself into things and push and push.
machineofbones: Even if it is pointless, it doesn't mean I can't do some things profound.
Maarii88: no -- you'll never be profound, mitch, until you realize that it's more than nothing. it means something
machineofbones: It does mean something and that something is nothing.
Maarii88: and you can't believe that what you do means anything if you don't believe it.
Maarii88: something isn't nothing.
machineofbones: Nothing I do means anything. In the laywork of things I am small. Not small as an atom but I am small.
machineofbones: Nothing is something.
Maarii88: yes. small......... and in your mind, nothing. therefore that's what you'll always be. and you'll never realize any kind of potential. because it costs too much.
Maarii88: and i'm NOT talking about money
machineofbones: Then what cost do you speak of?
Maarii88: your life.
Maarii88: it takes a lot of investment, emotionally, mentally, to believe in stuff. because those beliefs are tested so often
machineofbones: I can write. I have potential there and it grows and grows.
Maarii88: no -- it's stagnant because you aren't changing. you aren't believing in anything
machineofbones: I believe in living my life to its fullest even if it is pointless. I believe in doing what makes me feel good. But I know always that none of it matters.
Maarii88: then you just contradicted yourself...... which doesn't change anything
Maarii88: do you want to live life to it's fullest?
Maarii88: do you really ?
Maarii88: because I believe you do
machineofbones: If a man thinketh himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself. --Gal. vi. 3.
Maarii88: wel.... if you aren't nothing.... than you aren't deceiving yourself
Maarii88: do you think I'm nothing?
machineofbones: You are something.
machineofbones: A something that in the long wrong will amount to nothing.
machineofbones: IN THE LONG RUN, but not in the short run.
machineofbones: Not during the span of your life.
Maarii88: well. i don't believe you. I am something , yes. but I am something that will amount to everything and anything
machineofbones: In the short run you shall amount to something.
Maarii88: mitch, you have to keep repeating your contradictions. i think you don't really believe them. but you don't want to say
Maarii88: you don't want to leave off the last bit
Maarii88: you don't want to see worth
machineofbones: Eventually mankind will become extinct. Eventually the sun will swallow the earth. Eventually everything will be gone and replaced by something else.
Maarii88: so what?
machineofbones: In the long run it doesn't matter. The universe continues going on even if you're gone, even if you'd've not existed.
Maarii88: so what? so what? that doens't have anything to do with you!
machineofbones: If humans had not existed, the universe still would.
Maarii88: you aren't the universe or God or anything
machineofbones: I am not the universe nor god nor anything.
Maarii88: you are you.... born as what you are and capapble of being .....
machineofbones: I'm just an organism living and one day I'll die.
Maarii88: you won't know it.
Maarii88: i swear to you mitch, you won't know death. because you won't be alive
Maarii88: it won't matter
machineofbones: You aren't born as what you are. You have to grow. You don't come born with all the knowledge you'll learn.
Maarii88: no........ but you are born human.
Maarii88: born to become
Maarii88: born to grow
Maarii88: born to all this
machineofbones: Humans aren't anything all too special. They are animals, too, just as whales and everything else on the earth. We only have specialized brains, which gives us the advantage. Our existence is still pointless in the entire lay of everything. Eventually our time spent alive will not matter, it will be lost and forgotten.
Maarii88: so what?
Maarii88: are you Time? to lose and forget humans? no.. you're human. To live as you. whatever that may be.
machineofbones: And I'll live in the short time I have.
Maarii88: yes. you will.
machineofbones: But it is still pointless, it is still nothing.
Maarii88: just leave off all the "it's pointless" shit. and you actually will live to live insteadof live to die
machineofbones: How is it not pointless? Everything you affect one day will be gone itself so in the entire laywork, in the futures and ages that will go by from the time you are dead, it is pointless.
machineofbones: At the present, it has a point.
Maarii88: and what? you all of a sudden live in the future?
machineofbones: You will affect what is here now and in the future, but in the way distant future it will not matter.
machineofbones: Because inevitably mankind will be gone.
Maarii88: you don't live in the way future. or the immediete future or anything, dummy, you live now
machineofbones: I've said this.
Maarii88: so you saying, "it has a point now"
machineofbones: I said it has a point in the now.
Maarii88: means that it HAS A POINT
machineofbones: Has a point now, though.
machineofbones: Not in the long run.
Maarii88: you don't live in the damn "long run" you live now
machineofbones: Therefore it is pointless to me.
Maarii88: why do you try to define yourself by what you aren't.
Maarii88: by a place and time you don't live in?
machineofbones: Because eventually when I die I would like all these years spent to actually matter in the lay of things, but it won't happen, therefore it is pointless to exist at all.
Maarii88: no. actually. its not. you've already touched me. so you exist. and you can't erase my memory
Maarii88: you can't de-exist yourself
machineofbones: But time will erase that memory eventually forever.
Maarii88: how do you know?
machineofbones: That is what I feel. But I do not know.
machineofbones: I have to choose some side, and this is where I lean.
Maarii88: why?
machineofbones: Otherwise I would just be apathetical.
machineofbones: I would be indifferent. I would be in between.
Maarii88: and that's NOT apathetic
machineofbones:
Apathy is having no feeling.
machineofbones: Believing I will not matter is afeeling.
Maarii88: okay. soo .... why not be happy?
machineofbones: Because I refuse to be happy when it won't matter if I'm happy anyway.
Maarii88: if it's just as easy to say " i don't believe in happiness" as it is to say " i do believe in happiness"
Maarii88: then why not pick the good one
machineofbones: Because I am not happy that I will live all these years and in the long term it is pointless.
Maarii88: thenwhy believe it's pointless
machineofbones: I won't be happy just to be happy.
Maarii88: since you won't know anyway
Maarii88: WHY?! oh my GOD!
machineofbones: I won't be happy until I know.
Maarii88: happy just to be happy is like so wonderful
Maarii88: it's like....... totally not a bad thing
machineofbones: Being happy just to be happy is pointless.
machineofbones: I want true happiness.
Maarii88: so the fuck what?
Maarii88: if you know what true happiness is mitch. then go find it
Maarii88: if not. just find the happiness that is here
machineofbones: True happiness is knowing what I does matters for the long run.
Maarii88: that doesn't have to be true happiness
machineofbones: I am happy that what I do in the short run does something.
machineofbones: But that is not a true happiness, it is not absolute.
Maarii88: nothing is absolute. why not just be
machineofbones: Because being has to have a purpose.
Maarii88: being's purpose is being
machineofbones: If I could not feel not exist, that would be better if there is no point to existing.
Maarii88: mitch, why don't you kill yourself then?
machineofbones: In the long term it will not matter, so why exist at all?
Maarii88: because you do
machineofbones: Because I enjoy the short term even if it is pointless.
machineofbones: But if I had the choice to be born or not I would not be born.
Maarii88: you ....... how can you say that? You are a bastard. because you WERE born. and look how much you take for granted.
machineofbones: Then I would not be anything at all and I would not have to worry and think and such as I have here.
machineofbones: I take nothing for granted. It could be taken away at any time.
Maarii88: Just look around you. How many kids even have a computer. even have food? even have water?
machineofbones: Oh, don't give me this trip.
Maarii88: why?
Maarii88: because you don't want to hear it?
Maarii88: it's true
machineofbones: I really care less. I have what I have and I'll have it as long as I have it.
machineofbones: When I don't have it I don't have it.
Maarii88: you shouldn't have it
machineofbones: Well then take it from me.
Maarii88: i would never.
machineofbones: I shouldn't have anything, therefore I should have nothing.
machineofbones: I don't deserve anything, so I should have nothing.
Maarii88: but you do....... you doo..... you're so so stupid. i don't know what happened to you to make you like this. but if I could change it. then I would
machineofbones: As I said genes predispose who you are, and the enviorment shapes and tweaks these things.
machineofbones: *enviroment
Maarii88: mitch, if i could change you by loving you. i would. anything just to fix you. . ...... to open your eyes
machineofbones: My eyes are wide open, and I see pointlessness.
Maarii88: then they're still closed.......
machineofbones: Not from my vantage.
machineofbones: I see in crystal clear color, in the same acuity that all humans have. But my eyes are my own.
Maarii88: and they are so blind. to all goodness and all meaning......more than blind. they are shut away
machineofbones: That is what you think, and you can think whatever you want.
machineofbones: Just as I can.
Maarii88: why do you do this to yourself? mitch, ....... you have so much. and you squander it. like dust or something. dust which could be so bountiful if you put it to use. but it goes nowhere. and i don't want to walk away. which amazes me. i don't want to leave you alone to wallow in self-denial - because i can change you. i know i can. and one day... i will
Maarii88: one day you will be happy
machineofbones: I don't wallow in self-denial.
Maarii88: if only for a fleeting.. passing second.
Maarii88: and it'll be good
machineofbones: I've simply thought over matters deeply and this is where I stand, that is all. There is no wallowing
machineofbones: As I've said, I enjoy life, but I see it is pointless, and I enjoy it even so.
Maarii88: you don't see it as pointless. i think you like to say that as a safety guard. from being hurt. it's funny. you just can't deal with that.
machineofbones: In the short term it is not pointless at all.
machineofbones: In the long term it is.
machineofbones: Notice how I keep saying the same things over and over and over again?
Maarii88: yes. because you obviously don't understand your own theorems
Maarii88: because they are contradictory
machineofbones: Contradiction is a human.
Maarii88: mm. not really
Maarii88: everything makes sense eventually
Maarii88: you'll see
machineofbones: Not it won't.
machineofbones: *No
Maarii88: *nods
Maarii88: yes it will
Maarii88: chaos theory doesn't sit well with me. so everything will. eventually be made sense of
machineofbones: Well of course my senses make the sense.
Maarii88: and your mind and soul
Maarii88: you know.
Maarii88: if I believe you have a soul, then you do. which solves all our problems, doesn't it?
machineofbones: And my perceptions take the sense and make it my own.
machineofbones: But I don't know if a soul truly exists.
Maarii88: you are self-destructive. more than anyone i've ever met
Maarii88: and i think it's because you think so much. and are able to be so self-destructive
machineofbones: You make me sound so dramatic. Sadly, I'm not so.
machineofbones: I'm just Mitch.
Maarii88: it's not dramatic..... it's self-destructive
Maarii88: that's all
machineofbones: Whatever you want to call it. Even so, suicide isn't on the list of things to do any time soon.
Maarii88: good thing too. but i'm not talking about suicide. self-destruction is a lot worse, cuz you still have to feel
machineofbones: You are saying, then, that I won't ever have a whole sense of my self - a sense of identity?
machineofbones: I can agree with that.
Maarii88: nope.......actually i don't know who does. if anyone can
Maarii88: but that's not the point.
machineofbones: I destroy whatever actual "self" comes to me, because I quesiton it so muchl.
machineofbones: *question
machineofbones: *much
machineofbones: Self-destructive, as you said.
Maarii88: but i don't. and i think just as much as you do
Maarii88: mitch. i wish i didn't care about you
Maarii88: sad , eh?
machineofbones: Well I don't understand your caring so I can't say anything about it.
machineofbones: If I understood then I could say it was what it was to me.
Maarii88: you don't have to understand, or even accept it. it's still here
Maarii88: defying your theorem of nothing
machineofbones: It's a theorem, now, is it?
machineofbones: Perhaps I should I go public with it.
machineofbones: :p
Maarii88: no.. you shouldn't
machineofbones: Get it published, you know.
Maarii88: no
machineofbones: Get it out there.
Maarii88: it wouldn't be a big hit. actually - people would probably dismiss it. because it isn't the idea that's bad - because the idea doesn't meananything. it's what it does to you
machineofbones: Well what it does to me, it makes me happy in the happiest way possible.
Maarii88: no it doesn't
machineofbones: Exactly.
Maarii88: you already said you don't believe in happiness
Maarii88: ...... although I know you do
machineofbones: Happiness was what I had when I was ignorant, when I did not know and sought to know.
Maarii88: no
machineofbones: *and didn't seek to know
Maarii88: again misled
machineofbones: A child is happy because it is stupid, it only exists and does not question that existence.
Maarii88: exactly
Maarii88: but not the stupidty part
machineofbones: But I am not a child and I question everything.
Maarii88: i do too
Maarii88: and i question my existence
machineofbones: I don't mean stupid as in stupid, I mean it as in a child just doesn't have the mental ability to think beyond existing.
machineofbones: Their brains aren't wired to have abstract thought.
Maarii88: yes they are
machineofbones: This has been scientifically proven.
Maarii88: our brains are always wired to do stuff. we just do that stuff
machineofbones: There are stages in mental development.
machineofbones: Our brains develop over time.
machineofbones: We don't just come to, as a baby, with the ability to think abstractly.
machineofbones: It takes time.
Maarii88: yep. and I'm sure there are exceptions to that
Maarii88: i think children think very abstract thoughts
machineofbones: Well abstract in the sense that their thoughts are thoughtless thoughts.
Maarii88: have you ever thought that maybe your brain thinks thoughtless thoughts, and a child's brain picks up on reality?
machineofbones: lol
machineofbones: They just don't question their existence.
Maarii88: so what?
machineofbones: So that makes them strong.
Maarii88: mmm.
Maarii88: nice thought
machineofbones: http://chiron.valdosta.edu/whuitt/col/cogsys/piaget.html
machineofbones: Stages of Cognitive Development. Piaget identified four stages in cognitive development:

Sensorimotor stage (Infancy). In this period (which has 6 stages), intelligence is demonstrated through motor activity without the use of symbols. Knowledge of the world is limited (but developing) because its based on physical interactions / experiences. Children acquire object permanence at about 7 months of age (memory). Physical development (mobility) allows the child to begin developing new intellectual abilities. Some symbollic (language) abilities are developed at the end of this stage.
Pre-operational stage (Toddler and Early Childhood). In this period (which has two substages), intelligence is demonstrated through the use of symbols, language use matures, and memory and imagination are developed, but thinking is done in a nonlogical, nonreversable manner. Egocentric thinking predominates
Concrete operational stage (Elementary and early adolescence). In this stage (characterized by 7 types of conservation: number, length, liquid, mass, weight, area, volume), intelligence is demonstarted through logical and systematic manipulation of symbols related to concrete objects. Operational thinking develops (mental actions that are reversible). Egocentric thought diminishes.
Formal operational stage (Adolescence and adulthood). In this stage, intelligence is demonstrated through the logical use of symbols related to abstract concepts. Early in the period there is a return to egocentric thought. Only 35% of high school graduates in industrialized countries obtain formal operations; many people do not think formally during adulthood.

Maarii88: i don't care about that
Maarii88: not right now
machineofbones: Well, it is a proven thing.
Maarii88: so?
machineofbones: Therefore it presents a truth.
Maarii88: not to me
machineofbones: So you vie to be ignorant purposely.
Maarii88: mmm. yep.
machineofbones: I would rather know.
Maarii88: well. me too. just not right now.
Maarii88: and i don't want to argure with you anymore.
Maarii88: so i'm going to go to bed
Maarii88: mitch
machineofbones: Formal operational stage (Adolescence and adulthood). In this stage, intelligence is demonstrated through the logical use of symbols related to abstract concepts. Early in the period there is a return to egocentric thought. Only 35% of high school graduates in industrialized countries obtain formal operations; many people do not think formally during adulthood.
Maarii88: ............. mitch. i'm tired. i'm emotionally all over the place I'm not going to dispute science with you
machineofbones: Well, it is indisputable.
machineofbones: It is fact.
Maarii88: i'm sure there's an exception somewhere
machineofbones: They have researched it.
machineofbones: Of course there is exceptions.
Maarii88: but it doesn't matter. you aren't proving anything
Maarii88: not to me
machineofbones: But this is the reality mostly all of the time.
Maarii88: mostly =-- but not all. so there
machineofbones: Well that still doesn't matter.
Maarii88: whatever
Maarii88: bye mitch
Maarii88: it's bed time for me
machineofbones: It still proves my point that children cannot question their existence.
Maarii88: - who cares. i'm sure thy can
machineofbones: Well, I care.
machineofbones: Because I like truth.
machineofbones: Rather than ignorance.
Maarii88: your truth
Maarii88: not anyone elsex
Maarii88: elses
machineofbones: Well, I will admit what I have said of what i believe is my truth.
machineofbones: But what science has gotten is truth.
Maarii88: Goodnight
Maarii88: be a scientist then.
Maarii88: goodnight
machineofbones: Okay.
machineofbones: Bye.
Maarii88: goodnight. and sweet dreams
machineofbones: It was nice talking.
Maarii88: yes.
Maarii88: bye
Maarii88 signed off at 1:52:48 AM.
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Friday, December 3, 2004

Dream Theatre - As I Am

Don't
Tell me what's in
Tell me how to write
Don't tell me how to win
This fight
Isn't your life
It isn't your right
To take the only thing that's
Mine

Proven over time
It's over your head
Don't try to read between the
Lines
Are clearly defined
Never lose sight of
Something you believe in

Takin' in the view from the outside
Feeling like the underdog
Watching through the window I'm on the outside
Living like the underdog

I've been trying to justify you
In the end I will just defy you

To those who understand, I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand, take me as I am
Not under your command, I know where I stand
I won't change to fit your man, Take me as I am

As I am

Still
Running uphill
Swimming against the current
I wish I weren't so
Fucked
Feels like I'm stuck
Lost in a sea of mediocrity

''Slow down,
You're thinking too much
Where is your soul?''
You cannot touch
The way I
Play
Or tell me what to say
You're in the way
Of all that I believe in

Takin' in the view from the outside
Feeling like the underdog
Watching through the window I'm on the outside
Living like the underdog
I've been wasting my breath on you
Open minds will descend upon you

To those who understand, I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand, take me as I am
Not under your command, I know where I stand
I won't change to fit your plan, take me as I am

---

I wish I had my iPod. . .

In other news, I printed off writing things from this blog for about an hour last night. I've got a somewhat thick stack of papers from it. I'm going to hang some of it up in my AP English classroom.
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They'll be no angels gracing the lines - just these stark words I find/ I'd give a smile but I'm too weak/ I'd share with you girl but I can only think how much this hurts me

Listening to AFI's Sing the Sorrow always makes me feel so desperately sad.
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Thursday, December 2, 2004

Somewhere Out There, cont.

XII

His stomach’s widening, expanding, growing, augmenting. He’s come out of college, and the years stream by, a river with a one-way current. His job is to sit in a desk all day, every day, and type away at a computer. Fill out forms. Look serenely out his window. Knick his pencils against his desk. It’s suitable, he’d tell you, with a fake-as-plastic-smile. He’s happy with his life, he’ll tell you, with a I-don’t-really-believe-what-I’m-saying tone.

On his desk, a picture of him and his wife. She’s smiling a wicked smile of hers, her arms clasped around his chest, his around hers. He’s smiling too, the pearly white teeth showing.

Another picture, next to it. His wife’s face is all red, holding a newborn in her arms. The baby’s face is strained in a cry.

He used to run everyday. He used to keep in shape. But now, he works ten hour workdays, then gets the weekends off. During what leisure time he has, he spends with his son. When he’s not spending time with his son, he is relaxing – sitting in his chair, newspaper spread open wide, eyes pouring over empty words. The TV blaring, his eyes shuttling to it every now and then. Each day, it seems, his gut grows wider, fatter and fatter.

There is always an inner voice within his head, a distant convergence of noise. A voice going on and on. But the voice has long since lost precedence. He has turned from it.

The truth is, he would like to quit his job. He would like to not have to care about his son, worry about him. The truth is, out there, someone’s dying. Breaths leaving. Eyes not seeing. Hands not wrestling and fighting and gripping. Feet not stomping and walking.

Truth is, there is so much to get from life. Even if it is pointless. And he feels shelled up, sheltered in, tamed down. Broken in, caught in a tight corner.

The truth is, he would like to live again.

XIII

The possibilities are infinite. There’s roads helter-skelter, all over, squeezing around, pushing all over the place, overlapping and overtaking each other. Zig-zagging, scuttling, crushing clamoring.

Some roads are pavement. Some roads are steel. Some are yellow brick roads. Others are gray cold stone roads. Some are dirt that makes a storm of dust when you run on it. Some slippery, cracking ice, that melts with too much heat.

One road winds and twists like a serpent. Another has the sharpest turns, real gut-turners. Some linear – so straight it is boring.

It comes to a time where you stand abroad and see all these roads. Overloaded with all the roads overtaking and wild and rampant, like a forest with wicked gnarled trees competing for sunlight, you may stand there for the longest time. Or, if you are impatient, spontaneous, you may stand for the shortest time. However it is gone about, there is a choice to make. There is a singular road here to choose.

And each one is a mistake waiting to happen, a wrong twist and turn waiting to lead you astray. Each is a path with lies. Seeping, crawling lies that get in your head and unbalance. That make you fall over in ununderstanding, in an undeterminable walking sickness. Confusion will surmount, blear all over you, frustration crush your skull to heading pain, pointlessness prance insistently. And how you react determines the knit and grit of who you are.

Will you lay prostrate upon the chosen path, close those eyes, wish they were torn socket from socket till only black nothing holes lay on your face? Will you continue walking, curious about what the confusion, the frustration, the pointlessness, will culminate? Will you run blindly off-path, kicking up your feet, pumping your calves, locking your neck tightly, until you fall over, tired and breathless? Will you speak to these onrushing feelings, have thoughts with them over a dinner consisting of tried words and in rusted sitting chairs? What will you do, how will you do it, when, why?

If you follow the path you choose, navigate it and don’t err, there is nothing waiting for you. Do you want some truth to spank you across the rear? To redden you? Do you want some undeniable reality to set in and enter your mind? It won’t happen.

Each path only leads to a swift and sudden termination which could happen at any time. It only leads to more disillusionment, more confusion, more pointlessness, more frustration. As the time wears on, they are abated and numbed, but the feelings still shodden over you.

For making your odyssey, you get nothing. Is it worthy of your efforts? Is it what you would choose?

Or would you supercede the rules, the paths, the turns and twists, the linear steps, the gray cold stone? Would you go beyond and do something truly profound?

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Invagination

This week hasn't been fun at all.

I've got a sore throat, it hurts each time I swallow, and after I've laid down on my bed for a while, my throat hurts no matter what.

I failed a math quiz we had the other day - got it back today - and I didn't feel too good about that. Although it is my fault because I did not study, it still only continues to pound into me what this week's been like so far.

My dad was over here, he just left, and he was sighing in his annoyed, defeated way. My mom's apparently at the bar tonight, with her "boyfriend" and he said she's pretty drunk on the phone. She says she'll be home in half an hour, but it is doubtful; and I really don't care. I'm tired, and am going to go to sleep, and should be sleeping now - but here I am typing this at the last moment before I respite and go into tomorrow.

Someone stole my iPod today. I was working out in the school weightroom as I always do with my friend Sean (pronounced "Shawn") after school. I had just finished biking so I set my iPod on the counter near the entrance to the room, and went to benchpress and do my 125 whatyouhaveit sit-ups I do.

I came back and the white headphones of the iPod were there, and the case, but it was gone.

I got the teacher supervising there, Mr. Murdock, to help search around - he had everyone do so that was in there - and we came up with nothing. I searched the mens' locker room and found nothing.

As Sean and I were changing back into our regular clothes, he asked me if I was pissed. I told him I was, but there was no emotion in my voice; and it is true - I am pissed, but not in some big way.

Lately, it seems I'm numbing to everything again, I guess. I don't know. I just feel a lack of feeling. I feel a dissipation in enjoyment. I just don't care, but I force myself to, like everyone else. You've just got to do what you've got to do.

I have no clue who would've stolen my iPod. But it is a pretty stupid thing. Stealing is wrong, there is no if or but. And we're talking $300 here, I spent from my own pocket, to buy it.

It was stupid on my part to leave it sitting out, and I guess in part I do blame myself for losing it.

I am pissed about it, but not in a really seething way. I am kind of brushing it off I guess, at this point in time, because I am hopeful something will turn up tomorrow. And as time goes on and the search for it gets more desperate, then I'll have more of a reaction I suppose.

Anatomy is a hard class. Right now, we're studying muscles. As I've said before, our text is a college-level one and I find it very hard to get into it. It's not that it's hard to read, it's just that it is very termy (as Science is), and that I get lost, and have to continually refocus myself on what I'm reading.

For the muscle test, we have to memorize forty muscles, and their origins and terminations. I've got some major studying to do that isn't going to just get done, either. I have a C - in the class at this point, and all my other grades are dropping, too. I've got some work to do, but I just can't keep myself focused. School seems to be running at a ruthless pace, and I've got other things on my mind, and I've got work to worry about, and so many other things. It's hard, and I'm sure for everyone else it is too, that is at the kind of situation I am.

My new car I got, a few days ago, I left its lights on and because of this the battery went dead. I had to call my mom three times, and then I finally told her to get a friend to jumpstart my car for me, because no one else was going to.

As for writing, I've not written a thing this week. I don't have the time. My days consist of going to school and coming home, and if I have work I go there until around 10 and come home and do homework. If I don't work, I relax - today, in fact, I took a needed nap (which I hope will help combant whatever I'm getting ill with). I also go to friends' houses, and then I do my homework. It is still not enough time to relax, though.

I usually have three days off on a week, but as I've said I have to always work the weekends, which makes it so my weeks are just long strings of going to school, going to school, working, and on the weekends working working working, and then the next week comes and the next week and it keeps going and going on and on like that. But what can I do. I've got my car to worry about now, financially.

When I was at work yesterday, Chris Kuuntz was talking to me about my new car, and I answered him. A while later he said I didn't seem to really care about my new car - I wasn't excited or anything. I guess it's true. To me, a car is just transportation, and that is all - I see no other point about it. I don't even understand why I listened to my mom and got a new car. Now, I do know I need a nicer car to travel to and from Dickinson if and when I go to college there, but really, I'm just not happy with buying a car that's as expensive as this one is. Sure, it is only 11,000-something dollars, but that is a lot of money for me. And I don't even really own it, either: I've payments each month for it.

Not much else to say. Tired of school, and so forth and so on. . .I won't bore you with it. I'm sure you're feeling the same.

All I hope is my throat feels better tomorrow. But I'm sure it'll get worse. . .
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Tuesday, November 30, 2004

---. . .

Head throbbing, legs tired, arms fatigued, glasses messed, in my work clothes, this throat sore with pain every time I swallow, ears plugged up, homework to do, a shower to take, needed sleep, but always awake. --Shake it off and take it like a man, make your fight and do your stand; keep going and doing what you've got to. You feel like stopping but the world won't. You feel like dropping but you hold yourself from falling prostrate with the will of your mind.---And sigh.--And sigh. This ride won't ever end until the tracks are done. Everyone is their own burning sun. We can warm each other to burn if you want. Right now I feel like the loneliest moon of Pluto. Right now I feel like a falling star. So far, far; and so far to go until these bones lay down their rest. Fess up and face the facts: the rest of your life is work and school and a little time to relax. --One day our suns will expand into red giants and swallow everything whole. Burn it all into one big hole. We'll take back what time stole; what this society owes. Until then I wither into a grow; I fall and fall ceaseless into the unknown.

There is such unreality in reality. Reality is more unreal than anything I know. And yet it is so.
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