Friday, January 9, 2004

Rebirth Redeath Relife Resee Rebe.

I feel tired currently. It's been like this all week.

This week went by in a blur; I was half-asleep half the time of every time I was awake.

Well, you know my Formaldehyde Curtain thread, right? It's been going good thus far. Tony posted, whose post was nice, and said things well-thought out; Sarah posted; Asphy; James; Jenna; basically, most of the people I respect on OB. I'm especially glad Jenna posted. She is, I guess, subconsciously, one of the reasons I posted it; and I guess, Tony is, subconsciously as well, one of the reasons I posted it.

The main reason, was, though, because I wanted people to understand what happens in the embalming process. I found it very interesting to learn of it. And another main reason, just to basically show people that the funeral industry is all about money, as is with most things. I'm guessing the later isn't as amazing as the former, but still, some people don't seem to realize that the funeral industry is just a superfluous money-grubber.

Anyway, I shouldn't say much more, because eventually I'll be posting in my thread again, so I'll just be repeating what I'm going to say in there if I keep going.

Asphy's post, as well as this Deathbug person's, were easily seen that they were somehow offended by what I said.

Deathbug said something along the lines of, "I noticed you had lots of 'I believe' and 'I think.' Well, of course I did; I was posting what I thought as to encourage more people to post, as well as give my opinion. I mean, isn't that what a message board such as OB is for? Isn't it for saying your opinion? Of course.

I've never really understood why people get so ticked off when I have my opinion. Alex has gotten this way, (although I'm guessing he just means to say what he says in a way which is fluently said) and so on. I've also gotten this way before.

I guess it's just reading something at the certain right time when someone's in a bad mood that leads them to it, or something; or when they are feeling emotional. I can understand it. I just find it funny that Deathbug points out the obvious, as if I'm wrong for stating my opinion? Heh. It's no big deal, I was over it even as I read it. I just find it funny that people are like that.

So has anyone even missed my long posts? I haven't, really. All they are is some cohesive mold of nothing, upon nothing, upon nothing. Most often they end up being angsty or negative. But I guess that's the way I am, but honestly, I'm not open to telling people my feelings, really. I find that I'm a stoic person oftenmost, and I don't want to encumber people with how I'm feeling; I mean, they have themselves to worry about as it is.

Often, the first thing people online will ask you after giving that oh-so-cordial "hello" is a "how are you doing?"-esque interrogation. It's not bad, but I'd just like to say that half the time I just don't even want to answer. It seems stupid that someone I've met online, that I barely know, that I haven't even met, wants to know how I am. What does it matter, really? And am I really going to tell them the truth? Most often, not really. It depends, really, though. Sometimes I feel I need to tell someone how I feel, so I do it, and I usually just end up confusing them as much as I am confused as to how I feel. Who knows.

Dan's right for leaving like he did, I don't really blame him. The internet does suck too much of my life, it feels. But actually, it's not the internet that sucks the life, it's me who's the one that goes on it, so in directness, it's me who's sucking my life away.

I sit here and endlessly complain about how things are in my life at this point. I do it just to record my feelings, as well as catharsis if I can. I mean, isn't that the point of a blog? I find, though, that not many people even use their My Otakus for this purpose, when, in actuality, this is the purpose of it; it's to record your thoughts, your daily occurrences, your daily mundanities, urbanities, proclivities, morosities. It's for you to say who you are in some way that makes as much sense as you can make through words and what you can think and document down from your brain.

What am I saying? Well, to me, this is the purpose of a blog, that's what I'm saying. It's a lot like a dairy, it's a lot like a journal, and so people should implement it in this purpose. I find, still, that people only use it to post inane things vaguely about real life, and more along the lines of the internet. I'm just talking in generalizations here--because, in the majority, a lot of blogs are like this.

So, back to real life. It's been stressful lately, especially school-wise. Not just stressful, depressing. Not much you can do about that though, I think it's pretty much taken that a teen-ager is going to endlessly go up and down on a daily basis. There's always exceptions, always variances, and always certainties to this, but in general, most teen-agers are pretty depressedly inclined, and pessimistic.

I'd like to think I have optimistic pessimism. How can optimism and pessimism be combined together? Because Mitch said, that's why; because I think that pessimism is a lot like optimism, it's kind of an obvious thing. They're supposedly opposites of one another though. One is overly, extremely giddily elated-found in happiness, whilst the other is morbidly, encroachingly, unpositively negative in its inclinations. They oversee, over gratify one certain emotion and fine-tune it.

I can't stand people that are so happy. They walk up to you, smiling, tall, as if they're so great, as if they are so smart, as if they are the happiest person in the entire world, and they seem to think they know why, so they act like they do. If someone ever finds a certain place in one thing without going back and forth in it, then they obviously believe in something blindly. It's like this with religion, like this with society in general, to make it in short. Are we ever truly happy, and knowing of our happiness? No. Notice I said and knowing of our happiness, in reference to a child, of course. When you know enough about everything, you begin to see the big picture. The inevitability that is death--education, and how long it takes, and how much of what you learn during high school you'll forget--how money-grubbing the world is, how racial, how prejudiced at times--that you must get a job, work some-odd years that will probably be double digits, and then you retire, growing older, less alive, until you finally die--and so, so much more. And when you see this big picture, you should realize something, something which I can probably tell you is as close to a truth as you can say. And that is that the negatives far outweigh the positives, and also, everything positive eventually will, and can, at any given time, go negative.

Living is all good in some ways. But then age catches up to you, you begin to become senile, decrepit, dilapidated, emaciated, inundated; you being to waste away, your hair grays, all that good stuff. Then you die. Dying because you live is one of the biggest negatives, depending on how you see it. I mean, you've done all these things in your life, and I'm sure once you're older, you'll realize that what you've done all your life is nothing. You've worked, gotten money, retired, maybe loved, maybe had sons. But it's still pointless, still, in the end, you're going to die, and eventually, all you've done will die too, either with you or not with you. At old age I'm sure I'll feel illegited personally. As if all I've done is useless, and I've only survived and strived in life to just die.

Think about it, things that are positive, eventually go negative, or at times, you view them like that. Education? It gets mundane, as with anything you're forced today. While you get sick and tired of learning, and the day-by-day charade that is school goes along, never does education slow down with you, never does it let up its pressure; always a test here, always a test there; always need to study here, always need to listen there; always need to have this done then, this done there; it gets tiring. It gets sickening. You look at education, and realize that you're not even going to remember half this crap you're being taught, and so you wish you could perhaps just be further along in your life, in the future, when you were learning things you wanted to learn, not being forced into a rule-ridden, systematic thing that is school, which forces you to take a levelheaded amount of classes each year.

Honestly, if I could, I'd just sit here and learn about writing as much as I could, read as much as I could, listen to music, learn to play guitar, learn about psychiatry; I'd learn about things I want to learn about, not Geometry, not whatever else. And also, I'd like to do it on my own terms, and as an individual; none of these other people to be with, in a class, as a student. I'd go at my own pace.

Honestly, so many of my classes are so easy at this point, and I hate them for that. I want a challenge in those classes which I enjoy. What have we done in A.P. English all week? Pretty damn much nothing. We had a Realism and Naturalism test, that's about all. We've been reading Of Mice and Men, which is such an easy and fluent book to read, which flows seamlessly. I'm already on page fifty-two, and I only started reading it yesterday; and when you realize that that book is only about one hundred pages long, you see that I'm already halfway through this book. It's funny, considering we don't have our test on this book until two weeks, for crying out loud. We do have this paper to do, but it's such a stupid paper that's going to be easily done by just guessworking, and just blabbering my way through it.

We were given this piece on a woman which writes that she has a "shattered identity," which is all shards, all over; that she's confused as to who she is. Wow, and aren't we all.

The piece itself was okay. It was way too short to brim on anything other than succintness. It also wasn't presented in some interesting way, either. It did have good word-choice, but over all, it wasn't an encapturing read. You read it much like, "Who the hell cares? We all feel this way. Why not actually give the piece some direction."

What do we have to do in this paper? We have to analyze how the language is used. That's kind of challenging in some ways, but it isn't once you get going on it, I'm sure. All you have to basically say is she used sharded, disfigured sentences, chose words which constantly referred to her "unsense of identity," and that's it in a nutshell. A waste of time I think.

Honestly, we haven't done much of anything in A.P. English all year. I've learned some things, but we've only read two books, and studied three philosophies, and that's about all we've done, other than whatever went on to discuss from those two books--those two books being Huck Finn and Fredrick Douglass Slave Narrative. That's about it. We watched Amistad, Dead Poets' Society, Stand By Me, and Huck Finn as movies, which was mostly just a waste of time, other than Amistad, I think. I slept through Huck Finn, I just didn't care to watch it. I sort of half-watched the others, not really caring, but letting my thoughts wander as I watched the movies.

I find this funny because this is an Advanced Placement class. I'm sure I'd be bitching if it was challenging too, but it isn't, so I can bitch about it as I want. Hah!

Geometry's a whole different story. What a useless class to me personally. I'm basically just getting through it as well as I can.

It really sucks, I decided to just go to Informal Geometry, so I went up to get my schedule changed on Thursday. I also wanted to get a different Chemistry teacher for next semester as well. I have this guy named Johnson, and from what I've heard, he gives you loads of homework, makes you take his final, seems like a jerk in general. I mean jerk in the most cordial way though.

Both things never came to pass; I was locked into place for my second semester schedule due to Newspaper. I considered just getting rid of Newspaper, but I decided against it. My days just wouldn't be the same without Newspaper. We're like some family brought and raised by Hics.

And plus that class is so easy at this point. Interviewing is the only hard part. I loathe interviewing, and I loathe even writing a story in most cases; last issue's story was an exception, though. I just interviewed Schimdt and Kosse for about ten minutes each, and there I had my story.

But generally, I don't care to write about normal, mundane, every-day people. I'd rather write about some genius person, or maybe a murderer, or maybe a rapist, or maybe a satanist, or maybe a mortician. Anything odd and strange like that. That's the kind of stuff I'd like to do stories on. And in general, in a high school, such stories obviously don't exist. We'll see though, I might end up being a Journalist. I'd do it just, mainly, to write columns.

Columns. It's the one thing I actually like about Journalism. The one thing where you don't have to be some censored, unopinionated corporeal identity. I can actually use "I" in a column! I can use "you"! I can make things up! I can brim on the edges of fiction and nonficition like a hybrid creation. It's great. You can do whatever the hell you want in them, say whatever you want, however you want, in whatever tone, inflection, cacophony. That's the type of writing I like; I don't like writing boring, mundane, streamlined piles of stories that I as a person don't even care to read in newspapers.

Honestly, in our newspapers, most people like the columns. They are the most spoken about, most often read. When I published my "Pristine Nazarene" column, I can tell that a lot of people read it, and didn't understand it. At least it was good enough to read, you see.

I can't stand newspapers, really. I find them boring, other than the comics in them, maybe the ads, and the columns, and maybe some oddball story that applies to me in some general way. Otherwise, I don't care to read anything else.

It's the same for a book for me, most of the time. I'm a really opinionated person, it should be obviously seen, and if I don't like how a book is going after giving it some chance-though, I stop reading. If I find the way the writer writes to be boring, and not suitable to my mood, I stop reading.

Isn't that what it's all about? It's about meshing with something in your certain demeanor and feeling. It's what I do with music, writing, anything.

I still have a D in Geometry, and, it's no one's fault but mine, and I accept this. There is some part of me that screams endlessly, "MITCH, YOU NEED TO GET YOUR GRADE UP IN THAT CLASS. MITCH, GET TO WORK. MITCH, YOU LAZY PIECE OF CRAP! MITCH, GET TO WORK ON IT! MITCH, STUDY NOW! MITCH MITCH MITCH MITCH!"

But all it takes to kill it is shooting it with a preimagined, well-thought, nonexistent, gun of fragment. Nothing too hard about that.

I don't freak out anymore. I don't get all, "Oh my God, I have a D," or, "Oh my God, I don't want to do this." I don't care, but might as well just do what I have to do as I'm at school. So I do it. I don't say anything, I do it. I also don't sit here and say I'm some stupid person because I have a D in Geometry. I already know I'm a stupid person. I'm not better than anyone else in my position, or anyone else that's in even a lesser condition than me, or is handicapped. I'm just a human living out my life, and struggling to find his identity, and understand why I'm alive, what got me where I am, and so on. But it's still a useless process. Oftentime I just wish I could cease to exist in some amazing way, as if I'd never been born.

Because, in essence, when you really see it from all you've gained, all does end in vain. You'll die knowing all you've created will one day die like you, and suffer as well.

But life at this point isn't like that, but you still need to be reminded of it; reminded that you aren't so great, that you're just like everyone else.

I've been extremely lazy this week, to the point of doing mostly nothing. In my classes, I slept as much as I could, I listened in a vague way where I just zoned off. I only listened truly in those classes I care to.

I didn't even study like I told myself I would for my Geometry test that was today. But, the teacher is stupid enough to let us use a note card, so it's basically like looking in the book while doing a test, only on a much more personal level. So I didn't have to remember much, it was all written in my hand on a card instead. I only had real trouble on the proofs. I've always hated proofs, mainly because they make you think in Geometrical rules and principles, whilst combining it all together, whilst trying to tell the why to what you're trying to do. It's not something I've ever liked to do in math. In math, I like to sit there, like a machine, and just regurgitate all and everything and just keep doing it in some systematic, mundane way. Algebra's a lot like this. I miss my Algebra, it was so much easier in comparison.

So I actually did decent on my test today. Luckily, we have another test coming up soon! I'm so happy, I just can't hold in it! It's also a semester test--over all we've done this semester. Here's the real great thing, though: we get to use four note cards on the test. So, instead of studying, I'll just wait until Monday, the last day before this test, and I'll do the note cards then. I'm too lazy to study, too lazy to care, so I'll just let the note cards do the test for me to the best of my abilities which in math are not existing ever.

School's so funny. What a waste of time--I feel as if I could just be in college already. Or maybe dead, not having to suffer through this stuff. But I choose to live, without knowing why. Do I live to live? Who knows. I have never known, and I'm sick of wanting to know. I'll never know.

Maybe I'm living because I'm a coward, and can't end my own life with my own hand? Maybe. But you know, me mentioning this is definitely having some people just be all scared. What's so bad about taking away the life you were given? It is selfish, of course, but it also ends the pain, stress, and so on. But I'm going to hang in here, hope that things get better. I don't hope in some hopeful sense. What I have for hope isn't hope at all, it's cynicism more than anything else.

I live in hopes that my life will be the way I see it will be, maybe. No one knows though. I already see that my life is going to be the way I see it to be.
Comments (0)