the human washing machine

Focus: Dad

2011-12-28T19:03:00.000-08:00

Going to India is always a thrill for me. When I was younger, the joy probably sprouted mostly from sightseeing and getting exotic trinkets here and there. As I got older, the value began to principally spring from getting to know the family better, as most all of my dad's family lives there. Now, I'd say, the best parts of coming to India are a combination of family time, as well as learning more about my gaining more knowledge about my roots.

This time around, one of the most memorable parts of the trip was actually the five hour car ride from Delhi to Punjab. We left at four in the morning and I slept most of the way there. My dad went so far as to ask our hotel if we could borrow a pillow and blanket so I would be as comfortable as possible during what has, historically, always been the most dreaded car ride of the India trip. Needless to say, I was quite comfortable. As the sun started to rise, my eyes fluttered open every now and again; my eyes were drawn to my father's face, which, I haven't really been able to examine in a long while. When you live with someone, you never notice the subtle changes in their appearance. Even when he comes to visit me at college, the moments are so packed with my endless descriptions of teachers, friends, course material, complaints about the dining hall, etc., that we never get to truly embrace the simplicity of being in each others' presence. So when my eyes fluttered open, I noticed the thin lines around my dad's eyes which had not been there before.

It was strange to finally see the physical manifestations of his age.

My whole life, my dad's had the inquisitive nature of a small child, the energy of an enthused twenty-something, and the wisdom of an old man.

Satisfaction.

2011-12-22T06:24:00.000-08:00

So I'll start out by saying that I can't remember the last time I chose to listen to The Four Tops over something like Underoath or Marilyn Manson. I mean, in general, the sheer aesthetic of hardcore will always appeal to me more-so than any genre of music, as it always has - but - most of my hardcore music is about discomfort or distress in some way. Manson attacks consumerism, superficiality, blind faith, among other things; Underoath chronicles personal struggles with impurity, retelling the tumult of trying to cling onto that which is chaste and everlasting in us. Not only have I always related to the deeper undertones of this sort of music, but let's face it, who doesn't love those carnal, guttural screams at six in the morning, or any time of day, for that matter?

Well, today I chose to listen to a song about being totally stoked on life: "Can't Help Myself." Historically, the 50s happy-go-lucky, politically correct, blandness that characterized the older generation's music was a major turn-off to me. But every now and then, I'll admit, it makes me feel so wonderful to relate to an artist who simply has no complaints about life.

Recently I was talking to my sister, who struggles with stress and anxiety; I was reassuring her that I pray for her, as well as everyone else in my family. She asked what I prayed for. I told her: "Well, I pray that you gain confidence and faith in your abilities, and that you learn to relax. For mom and papa, I pray that they always feel appreciated, that mom reaches the fulfillment she's been searching for and that papa always feels stimulated by his work and those around him." There are a few select others I include in my prayers, plus all the animals in the world who suffer excruciating torture on a daily basis in factory farms, but this was not pertinent to mention in the conversation with my sister.

She then posed the question, "You don't pray for yourself?"

She was right - lately, I haven't been praying for myself. I smiled at the acknowledgment of this simple, yet quite telling phenomenon: I'm happy.

I think a main component of happiness is when you really only want happiness for others. I'm not saying things don't get me down, but I've developed so much faith in life's self-correcting mechanisms that I don't allow these things to let me stay down.

Thanks to all of you who play a positive role in my life.

Everpresent Conundrums.

2011-08-07T04:05:00.000-07:00

Every battle that takes place in my mind always concludes with the same ceasefire: Balance. Balance solves every conundrum, it is the remedy for all uneasiness and is the goal for anyone on a mission toward holistic self-improvement. My most recent quandary deals with the fact that peace is attained through a genuine acceptance of one's place in life. One's situation must fully be embraced and accepted for the purest calm to reign in the mind. However, having goals, in my opinion, is the only real thing that makes life meaningful; having an objective to strive for inherently means that you cannot simply accept the way things are - instead, you must have some inner drive not to settle for the way things are but to keep pacing towards progress. Both are necessary, hence the contradiction I'm struggling with which inevitably results in balance.

Maybe part of the problem is that I'm using dissatisfaction with certain aspects of my life as the driving force behind wanting to make improvements, and instead, I should sublimate that dissatisfaction into a sense of gratitude that I'm alive and healthy and very much in a position to make necessary changes and improvements. This is tough for me though. Perhaps the single quote that's made the biggest impact on me in recent years has been the following: "Suffering arises when our view of the way things ought to be doesn't match the way things are." (This is from a phenomenal book called Dharma Punx.) This quote made such an impact on me because it helped me tremendously with working on my state of mind. One time I remember walking in Manhattan and it started to rain, ruining my hair which I spent so much time on. Before I was able to get flustered, I quietly muttered to myself "It's okay that it's raining, I love the rain and even though my evening won't go completely as planned, rain is a part of nature and nature is perfect." This mental exercise, inspired by that one quote, allowed me to not for a second get distraught over the triviality which I would have otherwise fixated on. This sentiment has helped me with other, more important things as well, such as dealing with pain (physical and emotional). For the first time though I find myself unsatisfied with my ability to apply the core of that quote to certain parts of my life - and I actually take some pride in that. This is because there are certain things, like one's most meaningful relationships, in which it would be utterly insulting to apply a mere acceptance of the status quo without working to improve every aspect of your dynamic with the people you care about.

So now I'm starting to realize that the quote, "Suffering arises when your view of the way things ought to be doesn't match the way things are," remains relevant to things solely beyond your control. For the parts of your life you can influence, however, improvement is always possible and is in fact a necessity which warrants the opposite of placid acceptance.

Chipped Teacups

2011-07-26T17:06:00.001-07:00

I am a cup that used to be filled with love, filled with hope. Filled with ease, filled with calm.

Most of the contact I've had over the years has been with serrated edges: objects too hard and sharp for my delicacy.

Consequently my once smooth edges have cracked - at the base, at the rim, inside and outside, making me brittle. All this hope and love and ease and calm slipped right through. It began gradually, but soon these elements gushed right through my fractures to find a new, less broken home.

I sat on my dish patiently. I stopped waiting for sweet contents to pour back into me because I accepted that sweetness deserved a safe and elegant chalice. I, however, was neither of these. Thus, I sought bitterness and acidity. These would settle for a dreadful thing like me.

Time passed and I became more worn down and anything and everything I once accommodated has depleted. Left empty and utterly irreparable, I once more sat alone.

Then came you: harboring no intentions of piecing me back together with adhesive -

Because you found me perfect just as I am.

Perspective.

2011-07-02T20:58:00.000-07:00

I often have a difficult time keeping my eyes on "the big picture." I want to be someone who keeps the "big picture" in mind and doesn't get hung up on individual things that bother me. Sometimes I feel like there's a potential flaw in this though. If I let EVERY little thing which bothers me go, and I ignore all of it with the pretext that "the big picture is the only thing that matters... I need to remember the big picture" - I perhaps may lose sight of any changes that may be occurring around me. To elaborate, all the individual points I tell myself to consciously dismiss could be alarms or wake up calls that I need to pay attention to, so in ignoring them, I could be feeding a delusion which I call "the big picture." A self aware person probably shouldn't have this problem but hey, we're only human.

Thoughts on a Plane.

2011-06-06T12:10:00.000-07:00

Complexity.

2011-06-06T00:16:00.000-07:00

The root rejects its host - it longs for the uncertainty

married to the bride that is freedom.

The host's piercing energy unravels involuntarily--

instinctively attempting to capture the renegade parasite which now seeks flight.

Roots are destined for stagnancy,

entrenched in the darkness of the cold, coarse ground.

Why flee the warmth of the sun? The radiance it promises?

The irrational allure of freedom is the answer.

Life: a linear spectrum of gray matter: rarely black and white.

Life and death, sun and shade - an omnipresent fusion of extremes.

Absolutes make it too easy.

We must live the questions.

Life: A dizzying array of colors, a precise inventory of formulas--

intricacy battles simplicity.

In the end, majesty won.

Re-Examining My Biggest Inspiration

2011-06-03T00:04:00.000-07:00

Delving into Walden four years after I first read it has been a refreshing experience. While reading the first chapter, Economy, I couldn't help but relfect upon what is perhaps Thoreau's most profound statement: "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." It is so true; so many people feel like they are in a state of stagnancy and do not know how to move forward. Too often, people look for the solutions to their problems in all the wrong places and seek palliatives rather than real answers. Thoreau asserts that the best solution to any ailment is to genuinely simplify one's life. He claims that a "stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are the games and amusements of mankind;" I acknowledge that it is temporarily easier to deflect one's problems and engage in activities that assist in distracting oneself but it is far less meaningful than delving into our minds and introspecting. A thorough analysis of the path on which one treads has no substitute, and this practice has significantly enhanced the meaning of my own life. I admire someone who makes the effort to live such a pure life.

I sometimes look back on my time when I lived in New York for two years as my equivalent to Thoreau's time at Walden because I had to learn to apply sublimation to my distress and enjoy the time I spent alone. I was incredibly lonely, and was unable to form solid connections with anyone around me. I had to try and see the beauty in independence and had no option but to stop relying on others for happiness. Thoreau accomplished this, for he stresses on so many occasions that "the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but positive hinderances to the elevation of mankind." I remember when I first read this exact line four years ago, and in retrospect, I think I retained it so well because this sentiment was one of the few ideas that got me through difficult times while attending my first high school in Manhattan; I tried to reiterate to myself that the superficiality by which I was surrounded was not going to get my peers anywhere, and it would not bring them long term peace. Only a lifestyle which Thoreau experienced where all superfluous and corrupt entities are weeded out of one's life will result in true contentment.

The portion of Walden entitled "Economy" dissects how Thoreau observes human nature to have entered a mind-numbing stupor. I see so many correlations between Thoreau's perception from the 1800s and my perception of the world now. Thoreau's critique in "Economy" in which he poses the question "Why should [men] eat their sixty acres, when man is condemned to eat only his peck of dirt?" is a reflection on how people fail to see the limits on what they can acquire. The same question was asked, in a more modern fashion (with references more pertinent to our culture in the 21st century) in a 2009 TIME magazine article entitled "The End of Excess". Thoreau mentions a concept he affectionately dubs "the divinity of man," making an allusion to the fact that human beings seem to put themselves up on pedestals -- as if we can infinitely consume and revel in delusions of false progress. He says that "there are so many keen and subtle masters that enslave both north and south" after discussing the issue of slavery and how frivolous an "amenity" it is to possess an enslaved person. These "subtle masters" of which Thoreau speaks are undoubtedly social conventions that people have this fervent need to buy into: social conventions, of any sort, that when embraced, hinder one's own sense of personal aspiration and individual pursuit of happiness.

I remember reading Thoreau when I was still at prep school in New York. His words helped me crawl out of the intense depression I had entered because his literature was able to remind me that going against the grain is healthy. I was miserable at my school because I felt as if there was something wrong with me due to my inability to relate to others. However, I came to realize, after reading Thoreau, that the people by whom I was surrounded were the blind and types of which he spoke. They contained themselves in their bubbles of the Upper East Side, and didn't base their worth off of anything substantial. It was lines like "Public opinion is a weak tyrant compared with our own private opinion. What a man thinks of himself, that is which determines, or rather indicates, his fate" which helped me (and still to helps me) understand the power of introspection and the importance of feeling comfortable with one's sense of self, for it reiterates that public opinion or popular fashion doesn't equal divine mandate or truth.

Broadening. (Dedicated to Garrett, whose open mind and yearning to voyage outside his comfort zone is inspiring)

2011-06-01T01:36:00.000-07:00

"To the sick the doctors wisely recommend a change of air and scenery." This sentiment at the very end of Walden carries such gravity to me personally because there was nothing I thought of more while I was living in New York. No matter how hard we try and think positively, sometimes uplifting ourselves is out of our control when we are in an environment we deem suffocating and unfit for us. Thoreau felt a similar sense of disgust for his environment and the over indulgence and blind acceptance he witnessed so prevalently around him. This is why he retreated to an atmosphere where it is absolutely essential to get to know your surroundings and think critically about everything in order to live adequately.

Thoreau exclaims, "Thank Heaven, here is not all the world. The buckeye does not grow in New England, and the mocking-bird is rarely heard here." It's truly ridiculous when people assume that the rest of the world is like the small cocoon in which they live. I admire the fact that Thoreau receives such excitement from the very prospect of exploration, let alone, physically going out to expand his horizons in unknown environments. He explains how we subconsciously set up boundaries in which we confine ourselves within our minds which are physically manifested through stone walls guarding our farms and rail-fences against our property. He maintains that this is the most pervasive tragedy. He says that "the universe is wider than our views of it," and therefore it is up to us to allow ourselves to continually expand our views. It is the only way to view the world holistically and not narrowly. Lines like these make me think of my seventh grade year during which I wrote a speech on introspection. My closing line was, "if you don't introspect you will still survive, but if you do introspect you will truly thrive."

Punk Rock, Thoreau, and Learning

2011-05-27T01:41:00.000-07:00

My favorite Punk band of all time is Bad Religion. They are always blunt and forward with their social and political critiques and always attempt to provoke their listeners in an intelligent fashion. In their song, "21st Century Digital Boy," their lead singer, Greg Graffin, sings, "I'm a 21st century digital boy/ I don't know how to read but I've got a lot of toys." The underlying sentiment of these lines mirrors precisely what Thoreau gets across when he states the following: "As with our colleges, so with a hundred 'modern improvements,' there is an illusion about them... Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention away from serious things. They are but improved means to an unimproved end." Thoreau is again commenting on misplaced priorities in society. Engagement with the natural world and all it has to offer for our self betterment become more and more distant in a society which is becoming increasingly concerned with materialism and artificial advancements. His comment about colleges touches upon how education started to become more and more standardized, as with most things in a capitalist society, so personalized approaches to happiness also become distant. He is aware of the fact that society offers too many petty distractions from our quests of self improvement; the Bad Religion song reflects this awareness as well. Today's climate exasperates these social ailments when we have flashing billboards encouraging useless consumption; countless influences glittered with gaudy lights beg us mercilessly for our attention so we will fail to look inward, instead, at the emptiness which will one day present itself to us.

Longing and Simplicity

2011-05-21T11:25:00.000-07:00

Thoreau's most commonly reiterated point is the value of leading a simple life. He has tremendous faith in the notion that an individual who leads a simplistic life will be the one to garner the most contentment. He claims that "There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in the midst of Nature, and has his senses still." I love how Thoreau capitalizes "Nature," as if it is has a signature persona all its own with personified qualities of generosity and pacifism. He can proudly say, "I have never felt lonesome, or in the least oppressed by a sense of solitude."

I used to remember longing so badly for Thoreau's admirable sense of calm and collectivity. When I lived in New York, I tried my hardest to reach some semblance of peace from my loneliness but was never able to do so until the day I moved to California. In asking, "Can we not do without the society of our gossips a little while under these circumstances,--have our own thoughts to cheer us?" Thoreau critiques the commonness of everyone seeking pleasure and stimulation from external sources. The most valuable skill to acquire is the ability to be at peace with one's solitude, for in life, you really only have yourself. It's the most difficult ability to achieve but the most helpful because it will give you a sense of fulfillment in being able to produce a sense of belonging from directly within yourself.

Thoreau and Real Education

2011-05-20T11:22:00.000-07:00

It's amusing for me to think about the correlations I see between Thoreau's gripes with society and the complaints I had about prep school. In Walden, Thoreau poses a question which reminds me of the Mark Twain quote, "I never let school interfere with my education." Thoreau's question is, "What is a course of history or philosophy, or poetry, no matter how well selected, or the best society, or the most admirable routine of life, compared with the discipline of always looking at what is to be seen? Will you be a reader, a student merely, or a seer?" I see a correlation between the two quotes because both imply the value of acquiring knowledge through life experience and practical applications of one's experiences, rather than solely absorbing institutionalized education which often contradicts personal gratification. Back in New York, I was continually ostracized by students and administrators for poking holes at the information which my school wanted to hardwire into my mind. Thoreau boldly asks, "Why should we leave it to Harper and Brothers and Redding & Co. to select our reading?" I respect his posing of this question because it is not up for the institutions and media conglomerates to which we submit ourselves to decide for us what information we should take in; it is up to us to navigate through the variety of portals we have at our fingertips to discern what has bearing on our lives.

On a related point, I've always been an advocator of healthy provocation to simply reinforce the notion that one's thoughts can always be refined. Thoreau notes that "We boast that we belong to the nineteenth century, and we are making the most rapid strides of any nation. But consider how this little village does for its own culture. I do not wish to flatter my townsmen, nor to be flattered by them, for that will not advance either of us. We need to be provoked--." Healthy provocation, when exercised efficiently, is the key to breaking the delusions in which people live. While there is no doubt that our society has made extraordinary advancements socially, politically, and economically throughout history, the recent Wall Street crash was partially a result of people who got too comfortable abusing their privileges. Getting too settled into one's comfort zone can be dangerous, and to provoke is to send a genuine reminder that change is constant and we must embrace it to progress.

Excursions.

2011-05-11T15:35:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I really hate the world we live in. It's tough for me to remember that even as a rebellious, thick-skinned iconoclast, I am still subject to bullshit forces of socialization that inevitably infiltrate into the tiniest of crevices of my mind. It gives me extreme comfort to remember that delusions of a romantic, idyllic Arcadia depicted in Hollywood (and its inherent unattainability) will destroy my life to a significantly lesser degree compared to most other teenage American girls for a variety of reasons. Still, there exist some lethal longings which have nothing to do with mass media and the fallacies it propagates. I'm talking about things like a sense of entitlement - or perhaps a fundamental desire for companionship - things which are immutably more rooted in human nature. Can these be just as destructive?

In my International Relations class we were studying "heroes" of the Realist and Liberalist realms of IR theory. I found particularly interesting the section on how Nixon and Kissinger worked diligently to improve US/USSR relations during their term. I guess what I found interesting was how Nixon and Kissinger were quintessential "realists" in every political sense: calculating, Manichean, striving for a unipolar world in which America prevailed leaving everyone else to eat our superior, capitalist dust. Yet, they were being quintessential Liberals in deciding to reach out through use of dialogue and overarching global institutions for a more peaceful world. This is a seemingly random anecdote from an otherwise subpar class, but lest I forget my point - I think I always find it fascinating to watch people explore other versions of themselves. I'm always intrigued when people decide to challenge their traditional way of conducting themselves - it almost always is conducive to learning and profound personal growth.

(Leaving Nixon aside, who clearly had a ton to learn, thus undermining my argument, let us move forward and make some more relevant parallels.)

I think the best human relationships are those where you discover parts of yourself that you didn't know existed. Whether you like what you discover or loathe these newfound qualities, they are still fibers, good or bad, which compose the person you are. The more you uncover about yourself, the more learning opportunities are presented before your eyes to seize vigorously in hopes of improving your life. I've come to discover that there exist certain relationships where both partners can be so remarkably similar, so much so that talking to the other person can be like talking to yourself. This can be so useful because I've found, in my own life, that engaging in somewhat of a "mental dialogue" with myself is the best way to work out problems or extrapolate certain issues to their logical conclusions. A healthy relationship can be a portal through which to accomplish this every second of the day, consciously and subconsciously. I really think that the best relationships put you at such ease that you may not even notice yourself shifting from your traditional self into a more creative, thoughtful, more observant version of you until the mutual benefits are reaped. I suppose this idea of transformation truly enamors me. I always knew that people had the potential to change for the worse. It always scared me. It's nice to remember that people can also change for the better, too.

Imagination

2011-05-01T11:34:00.000-07:00

Thoreau had heard many stories about the bottom of Walden Pond, or rather, the lack thereof, and had to see for himself. His reasoning for doing so can be deciphered from his statement, "It is remarkable how long men will believe in the bottomlessness of a pond without taking the trouble to sound it." This thought process is beautiful because it's a metaphor for so many beliefs that humankind possesses regarding infinite versus finite means. The "bottomlessness of a pond" to which he refers could be replaced with the concept of natural resources in today's world, such as oil and other amenities that we have endlessly been consuming. Now, we are faced with the realistic fact that the road of consumption has an imminent dead end.

He discovers that the maximum depth of the water was approximately one hundred seven feet. Astounded at how remarkable a depth this is for such a small looking area, he poses the question, "What if all ponds were shallow? Would it not react on the minds of men? I am thankful that this pond was made deep and pure for a symbol. While men believe in the infinite, some ponds will be thought to be bottomless." Thoreau is remarking upon two things here. Firstly, he realizes the unflinching belief of mankind that things are everlasting. From the notion of the afterlife to the consumption practices mentioned earlier, it would be much more practical to go about something with the mindset that nothing lasts forever, or that all good things must come to an end. Secondly, albeit slightly contrary to the first point, he is remarking upon the infinite capabilities of people to achieve great things. Even though our resources are finite, our imagination is infinite.

Thoreau and Manson?

2011-04-30T01:44:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite lines of Walden is the following: "No way of thinking or doing, however ancient, can be trusted without proof." If I were to choose a mantra for Punk Rock, this would definitely be it. Punk is predominantly concerned with being a free-thinking individual - an individual who will not adhere to the arbitrary and commonly accepted trends of society. Of course, if you arrive to a conclusion on your own which happens to mesh with that of society's, this is wholly acceptable. However, the key is simply not to just accept something because it has prevailed for generations or because it is popular to do so. Marilyn Manson is perhaps one of the strongest proprietors of this philosophy. In his song "Antichrist Superstar," he sings about how people have a tendency to submit themselves to the "common mode of living" without thinking. He sings, "I didn't have to sell you - you threw your money in the pissing well, you do just what they tell you." Thoreau found it devastating that there is such a huge portion of our minds which we allow to remain inactive. Marilyn Manson, a true Punk in every sense of the word, would certainly be alligned with Thoreau on this score.

More Thoreau Commentary

2011-04-17T11:20:00.000-07:00

Reading "Where I Lived, And What I Lived For," perhaps my favorite chapter of Walden, is as refreshing as it is painful. Thoreau extrapolates upon certain ideas which he holds to be essential in life, and creates an ideal portrait of how we should live. It is delightful to read because it makes me feel validated - almost as if Thoreau would applaud my development as a thinker, because I really resonate with much of what he says. It is also difficult to read because it reiterates how far the masses have digressed in terms of vigilance and true engagement with the world. At the same time, Thoreau provides some advice which I found to be a bit puzzling while reading this section. He advises, "...I would say to my fellows, once and for all, as long as possible live free and uncommitted." Living freely is something I completely understand. Contrastly, I assumed that Thoreau would proclaim the opposite regarding commitment. I imagine him the type who would deem an existence where one is committed to something (not necessarily a person, but an idea or cause) to be the only type of life that has meaning. Then I read further and realized he probably agrees with me on this score, but simply meant that one should never be stuck in a state of mental stagnancy. He speaks of "renewing thyself completely each day," so he is trying to get across the idea that living freely means never being dogmatic and settling too quickly once you have found your niche. Such a level of comfort can sometimes be dangerous because it is when we are unsettled that we strengthen our search for truth and meaning. Therefore, being too situated in a comfort zone can often translate to closing oneself off from further growth.

Again, I must reiterate how inspirational Thoreau's opinions are, but they bring me to such sad realizations. He knows "of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor," yet I see so much apathy around me in regard to improving one's station in life. I, too, fell prey once to a demoralizing state of being that prevented me from "elevating" myself. I feel that I've learned how destructive apathy can be, which is why I try to make a conscious effort to analyze the negative components in my life and configure a way to correct them. Still, there are a bit too many people who become devoured by the sin of complacency and forget that change is constant. This line of thought reminds me of the title of a Dead Kennedy's album called "Give me Convenience or Give me Death."

Thoreau and Punk Rock

2011-04-15T00:17:00.000-07:00

Thoreau's ideas and his actions completely resonate with the Punk philosophy. In Walden, he recounts having gone to jail for a day for not paying his taxes, and ever since I learned of his defiance, my respect for him instantaneously went up. He was even disappointed when his aunt had bailed him out! His reasoning for refusing to pay the tax was because he did not want to "...recognize the authority of the state which buys and sells men, women, and children, like cattle at the door of its senate-house." I wish I had the courage not to pay my federal income taxes once I become an adult, for I have a fervent dislike for the IRS and the concept of these taxes because they are unconstitutional. However, when the time comes, I see myself simply complying. Thoreau's critiques on how society operates are particularly Punk because he believes that "...wherever a man goes, men will pursue and paw him with their dirty institutions, and if they can, constrain him to belong to their desperate odd-fellow society." Punk philosophy is concerned with the value of the individual, and how modern society places unfair and ludicrous restraints on people. True adherents to Punk thought are skeptical of governmental policy and take the time to understand the downsides of capitalism, which Thoreau clearly observed. His quote indicates a distaste for how people are "pawed" because they are seen as units who are to be put to work, and to serve the country rather than individuals who should be able to think freely. I love how he refers to our culture as an "odd-fellow society" because I agree with his stance on how individuals are corrupted by society's intention to mold people into effective servants to capitalism. He refers to them as "odd-fellows" because they transform from pure, untainted citizens to people who are displaced from their true selves because they are conditioned to think their purpose equals their function, or their work. Consequently, most of us fail to entertain the prospect of finding true contentment.

"Nature" by Ralph Waldo Emerson

2011-04-13T00:20:00.000-07:00

My favorite line of "Nature" may just be the following: "These enchantments are medicinal, they sober and heal us. These are plain pleasures, kindly and native to us." This line is immensely powerful because it iterates how the remedy for most modern ailments can be found by appreciating that which was here before us, and that which will be here long after we perish. The everlastingness of nature must enchant us at a deeply personal level because despite modern medicine, despite the revolution incited by the antibiotic, there is still a sacred, mystic healing power of a peaceful yoga retreat in the Himalayas. For me at least, even something as simple as a picnic in the grass leaves me nostalgic for some reason in a way that going to the movies or arcade will not, regardless of who I am with. This sentiment reminds me of another one of Emerson's quotes: "We never can part with it; the mind loves its old home: as water to our thirst, so is the rock, the ground, to our eyes, and hands, and feet." He is referring to Nature and how its presence is something that will always be imbibed within us no matter how distant we may physically be from it.

One line in particular made me think of something Thomas Jefferson said. When Emerson claims, "Cities give not the human senses room enough," it made me think of how Jefferson greatly valued an agrarian America. He saw those who worked the earth to be the "chosen men of God" and he hoped with all his heart that America wouldn't industrialize to the degree which European society had because he observed how Europeans seemed to "eat at" each other. This may very well be because industry, or other trends of modernization, suffocates us in ways that only Nature can liberate us from.

Questions Which Thoreau Makes Me Ponder:

2011-04-09T01:11:00.000-07:00

In Walden, I stumbled upon what I consider to be a fascinating conflict. Thoreau explains, "I found in myself, and still find, an instinct toward a higher, or, as it is named, spiritual life, as do most men, and another toward a primitive rank and savage one, and I reverence them both." I engage in the same thought process on such a frequent basis. Thoreau relishes his time amongst nature, yet also explains that he enjoys adventure and exploring "the wild". He sometimes feels as if there is conflict between the two lifestyles, but I think he has struck a balance, which is one of the most important prospects in life. I sometimes feel as though we as humans are less "human" than we were centuries ago. I sometimes think that we restrain our natural instincts of brutality and sacrificing the well-being of others for our own survival and pleasure. I occasionally deem it ludicrous that we would suppress these natural instincts for the sake of being politically correct and conforming to social standards. Yet, other times I feel as if I must treat my body as a temple and dedicate my life to spiritual evolution, for we are not merely animals but also spiritual beings capable of seeking out fundamental truths during introspection. Thoreau sees his "closest acquaintance" to be nature, and as a result, he is at peace with engaging in secondary forms of pleasure such as hunting and fishing.

He claims that "goodness is the only investment that never fails." As he explains how even when the younger generations grow indifferent and apathetic regarding morality, the "Universe's Insurance Company," being morality, is ceaseless. Most people at some point in their lives wrestle with the issue of morality, and ask themselves the question of when being "good" is going to pay off. I wish I had unflinching faith like Thoreau does. His firm belief that the cosmic order of nature will reward those who do good seems as if it would make one feel so much more at ease in life.

Transcendentalism.

2011-04-08T00:08:00.000-07:00

Henry David Thoreau's words ooze with undertones of malice for the emerging corporate ethos which he saw to be dominating American culture. Still, in his time, I'm sure he maintained that this emergence was not as all-permeating as it is today. A beautiful chapter of Walden entitled "The Ponds" details all the splendor and beauty of the simple things Nature has to offer anyone with a keen eye. He talks about amenities such as coffee, teas, butter, and how so many people work incredibly hard to be able to purchase things such as these. The key, however, is that he implies how the lives that the masses lead are wasted in trying to acquire material things by toiling day in and day out. He mentions, "But the only true America is that country where you are at liberty to pursue such a mode of life as may enable you to do without these, and where the state does not endeavor to compel you to sustain the slavery and war and other superfluous expenses which directly or indirectly result from the use of such things." I take this to mean that with the propensity to acquire which inevitably grows out of capitalism, Americans still fundamentally have a choice about what kind of life they want to live. You can choose to submit yourself to the capitalist system and "work hard to eat hard," so to speak, or, you could resign from that way of living, just as Thoreau had, and seek fulfillment someplace else. I think he is saying that if you choose to spend your days in a traditional manner which entails finding an occupation to take up your days, endlessly bonded to a cycle of ceaseless work and subsequent consumption, then you may find yourself "enslaved." Still, at the end of the day, you can choose to opt out. I do not think such an option is nearly as easy today as it once may have been. It is unfortunate but the forces of socialization which condition us to submit ourselves to the aforementioned cycle are so incredibly strong that it is not feasible for the common person to withdraw from it and seek a life of fine quality elsewhere. It is not impossible, but it certainly takes strong character.

Reflecting Upon Emerson

2011-04-05T01:56:00.000-07:00

Having recently moved to Boston for college, I've decided to delve into some of the works from great New England thinkers, mainly my Transcendental-soulmates, Thoreau and Emerson. Nonetheless, I found "The American Scholar" to be extremely eloquent. I will start my reflection by citing a portion of the speech which I may have related to most: "Meek young men grow up in libraries believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote these books." I don't think I've ever been one to blindly accept anyone's philosophies without first thinking critically, but there is a specific dilemma I believe I face. I read the works of great thinkers and become so enchanted by their ingenuity and dazzled by their brilliance, and I sometimes forget that if I work and think hard enough, I may be capable of contributing something to society just like my heroes (mainly Thoreau and Chomsky, right now) have. I sometimes feel quite impotent because even though we live in a society, which, because it is grounded in capitalistic values, should theoretically reward ingenuity and innovative ideas, often does not. I find this daunting and occasionally doubt whether it is worth it to strive for anything other than mediocrity. I quickly recover from this thought process, however, and realize that if anything else I know I will simply find it more fun to stimulate myself mentally, and if I happen to achieve something great in the process, so be it. Still, it is not fun to fall prey to demoralizing thoughts where I question the impact I am capable of making as one tiny unit in a massive, convoluted world.

On a similar note, Emerson remarks, "The so-called 'practical men' sneer at speculative men, as if, because they speculate or see, they could do nothing." It's so true, too! I wonder how many parents genuinely fear for their children if they see them developing a tendency to think freely and outside the box - as if society will have no place for them because they are too critical and less willing to submit themselves to traditional ways of doing things. Still, I must say, I do believe it is 100% understandable for a critical person to become jaded very early on, hence, falling prey to apathy does make sense if you are aware enough to understand how the world works and subsequently have difficulty seeing yourself as a content, active participant within it. It's interesting how such a keen awareness of the world can either propel one to "do" something about it or to develop such a deep-seated revulsion toward all things, thus retreating and forever living a life enshrouded in observation and speculation rather than physical creation. Emerson claims "The preamble of thought, the transition through which it passes from the unconscious to the conscious, is action." Gosh, it's amazing how difficult this can be to implement sometimes.

Nonetheless, it was refreshing to read "The American Scholar" because Emerson's words were so infused with a beautiful sense of hope. His faith in human reason and potential is so inspiring. Thoreau's work contains a similar appreciation for human potential, but his language is more emotional to me. Emerson's declarations of human potential hit me at a more cerebral rather than visceral level for some reason. Here is a portion of Emerson's speech which I really enjoyed: "One must be an inventor to read well. As the proverb says, 'He that would bring home the wealth of the Indies, must carry out the wealth of the Indies.' There is then creative reading as well as creative writing." I took this to mean that if we want to be active members of society, we cannot simply consume without producing something of redeeming social value. Society, with all its plagues and banes, gives us many useful things such as portal through which we can express ourselves and connect with others of similar mindsets. Therefore, it is our obligation to give something back to society in whichever way we see fit. I'm excited to figure out exactly what my particular calling may be...

What's Mine is Yours

2010-07-23T10:33:00.001-07:00

The gift-giver and the asphyxiated malcontent went on a long walk together. He was a lighthearted dose of valium; she was a stolid individual recovering from lethargy. They conversed about spirituality, school, family, comic-book superheroes, and perhaps the most significant of the wide spectrum of topics, love.

It got dark and they continued to wander. After a few hours, the two of them decided to see the gift-giver's good friend, Jane. Jane was a recent, but now past lover of his. She was able to briefly meet up with them so long as she didn't go on an excursion of epic proportions. The three schoolmates sat on the curb outside Jane's house and talked. It was spontaneous and wonderful.

The asphyxiated malcontent had been deprived of even the most mediocre semblance of social contact and intellectual stimulation for years, prior to arriving into the land where the horizon is always in view amongst the golden hills. As a result, she very much enjoyed the Socratic rigor and energy with which her new companions interacted.

Thirty minutes pass. The gift-giver and the asphyxiated malcontent continue on their way.

"Bryan's depressed as fuck and needs something to be happy about. Jane's one of the most amazing people in the world and can definitely provide that for him," explained the gift-giver, regarding how Jane just started to date one of his best friends.

"I admire how you look at it so logically and matter-of-factly, like a balanced symbiosis instead of brooding over the issue and holding a grudge," observed the asphyxiated malcontent.

"Everyone keeps telling me how 'great it is' that I'm so happy for them. I don't think I could ever be upset at either of them... I guess I just love to love too much."

The asphyxiated malcontent abruptly stopped walking alongside the gift-giver. She felt her eyes water and hunched over to shield her face from the streetlight.

"What happened?" asked the gift-giver.

Still shocked at the notion of becoming misty eyed (which almost never occurs), she took a moment to compose herself and hold back her tears. Upon successful completion of strategically wiping away the manifestation of her emotion while still maintaining her eyeliner, she replied, "What you just said... how you just 'love to love too much,'" she started. "The naturalness with which you said that - I've tried for my whole life to be that person, but was never able to."

"There are two types of people in this world," the gift-giver proceeded in stating. "The first kind are the people who just propel endless amounts of love everywhere they go and to everyone around them. Love is all they know; it's who they are, and it just takes one of those people to radiate all that passion into the second kind."

She let his words sink in for a few moments. He continued to revel about how the power of love rivals the earth's power to form mountains, or how the beauty of being able to love someone is almost as beautiful as nature itself, (he gestures to the greenery), in all of its splendor.

It was at that moment when the gift-giver had fulfilled his duty.

The gift-giver was a firm believer in fate, and this one evening-time walk was a microcosm for his entire life philosophy of how everything happens for a reason. It was at this moment when the asphyxiated malcontent admitted the following:

"I remember watching a movie back home where the main character said, 'this is what depression feels like - you wake up every day afraid you're gonna live'. Out of every movie I've seen or every book I've read, I've never resonated with any particular line more than I've resonated with that one."

She paused.

"But - but now - after feeling so desensitized for so long, I finally feel as if I've been released from the suffocation which has hindered me from experiencing the slightest degree of happiness, and for the first time, I feel as if I can really enjoy the rest of my life."

Finally, it was at that moment when the asphyxiated malcontent became a newly invigorated hopeful.

Ugh

2010-03-24T13:50:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty fucking disgusted. I have to say, overall my Living Skills class is kind of a bullshit class, and I'm only taking it because I need to graduate, but occasionally some thought-provoking information comes up. Today we watched this video called "Generation M" (with the M standing for misogyny) and while some of us are trying to pay attention to the commentary on the rampant hyper-sexualization of women in today's society, the Abercrombie-dwelling fuckwits next to me are glued to their Cosmos and Seventeens, giggling and gossiping without any regard to the absolute IRONY that they are bringing to the situation. Now, I'm not saying anyone ever died from reading a 21st century fashion magazine... but wait, that's sort of true. Is it really surprising that 95% of eating disorders are experienced by women and girls when everywhere we turn is laced with idealized beauty and, in my opinion, fucking classless objectivization of females? Honestly, those godawful Carl's Jr. ads? Like you're really going to stay that hot if you eat that greasy hormone ridden filth all the time.

In one part of the documentary, they played a clip of one of Eminem's songs, "Kim." Now, I used to really dig Eminem. Before my conversion to the faith of Punk Rock, I was a big fan of rap. But when you hear lyrics like "Sit down bitch, move again and I'll beat the shit out of you" and "Come on, we're going for a ride, bitch, while I'm in front you'll be in the trunk," it's fucking revolting.

But people in my class started LAUGHING. How the fuck is this funny?

This is when I lost it.

One of my closest friends killed herself one year ago because she was physically abused so bad, she didn't know what else to do. The look of desperation that I saw in her eyes just 2 days before she committed suicide was probably one of the most haunting images that I'm never ever going to forget.

Everyone really needs to step it up. I honestly don't care about your "stay in the kitchen" jokes but if you ever see someone disrespecting a woman for no good reason, stop it.

It's amazing how much things can change.

2010-03-21T16:14:00.000-07:00

Perhaps the best quality of life is that we all have the potential for change. We don't always have control over our circumstances, and sometimes it feels like our thoughts and actions never amount to the outcome we've hoped for.

But living without faith - faith in our potential to change - will amount to the most dismal existence of all.

For a while there I think I had forgotten what happiness felt like. I forgot the warmth of self-assurance and the bliss of optimism.

All it takes is a small reminder to reiterate our beautiful capacity to refocus our direction and change our mentality. Change is the most amazing thing we have.

Hello, I am a song.

2010-03-21T13:14:00.000-07:00

I'm not a typical piece of music. Most songs are prerecorded and then eternally bound into a compact disc, forever stagnated in digital form. What makes me special is that I constantly rewrite myself. My artist blessed me with the ability to erase the parts I dont like and enter in new content that better suits my vision. I'm always modifying, never committed to a static existence.

I was not signed to a major label, so I don't get a lot of attention. It's okay though because once and a while someone hears me and I get the sense that I made them think or they enjoyed my tune.

When I started out as just a little tiny song, I didn't have a lot to say. My artist supplied me with a bit of content, but as the years went on, I started to build myself up, amending and rewriting until I felt confident that I was ready for my listeners.

I like being a song. I don't think I'd ever want to be a human; people seem strange to me.

I've spent so much time organizing the zeros and ones embedded into my configuration, making sure that I sound exactly how I want to sound, fine tuning my bass, strengthening my drums, making my lyrics as meaningful as possible. Honest, I make an earnest attempt to make my message, my sound, and my impact valuable. I couldn't tell you why people pass me by in the stores and refuse to hear my story.

I doubt that humans put as much effort into being thoughtful like me. I doubt that human beings try as hard to evoke meaning into the lives of others, like I try to.

Everyone can know what they're going to get when they hear my sound byte. I am a safe investment. I can't say the same about people.

A September Morning

2009-12-19T23:48:00.001-08:00

The lights have dimmed and the shine has dulled and

the loudest of the lot have become so sullen.

The city of charm and romance, the city that claims to never sleep,

the flowers that once glistened, the butterflies and the angels retire and weep.

Their beautiful mouths now hidden from view beneath those protective masks--

Thin as paper, stretching across those unfathomably fragile faces.

All of the lovelies, the models, our radiant neighbors-- their perfectly shaped lips covered with film of debris, the remnants of a trademark dissipate into the sea.

Those beautiful eyes, crying tears which mix with the dirt on your cheeks. You wipe it away but the dust still collects and collects. It collects and collects and your efforts are in vain. You do what you can to ease the pain but the bodies fall and the children are slain.

You can't escape the thrust of the cloud, and all those attempts to make your parents proud, all of it for nothing just like your attempts to wipe away the dust that settles on your once colorful face.

You can't escape the force of the smoke, and I can't forgive those who misspoke, assuming we had their trust when all we have is this inescapable, omnipresent dust.

The most vibrant borough covered in brown and gray--

These shades of sorrow are forever here to stay.

The remnants of the city of the fearless and brave, buried under sheets of that ashen Tuesday.

The murky depths of Hell rise into the streets. Colorless waves consume unapologetically, mile upon mile until the walls appear bleak and the air smells vile. Pallid faces and wan, waxen hair, I look into your eyes with a dismal stare. You glance over and the overcast skies match your anxiety-ridden eyes.

Hoary streetlights and civilians collecting dust, an entire city reduced to brown and gray. Here today, gone tomorrow, stand proud once, eventually fall in sorrow. Every glance stricken with pain and every hand trembling in grief except those responsible who were granted a reprieve.

The Lost World of Iconoclast Park

2009-08-18T13:06:00.000-07:00

I was going through old shite in that darkened abyss I have dubbed my closet, and encountered the 2007-2008 yearbook from the highly acclaimed Hewitt School: 45 East 75th Street. After recovering from having died a little bit due to seeing the cover of the yearbook's "Express Yourself" theme (which was absolutely ironic considering they excelled in hindering most forms of self expression), I decided to browse through it.

If you know me in the slightest, you know that I detest everything about the Hewitt School and dreaded my experience there. If you don't know me at all, allow me to tell you that, in my eyes, that school is about as prestigious as a golden gilded shit can. Masked by ostentatious portraits of previous headmistresses (including Ms. Hewitt, herself) and a seemingly out of place grand piano in the library, the students were about as sharp as the convex surface of a plastic spoon. We had Smartboards© though. Those were radical.

Anyway, this post has not been created for the purpose of complaining. A striking thought came to me as I was reading the few student autographs I had in my yearbook. In essence, I was astonished to read these because they remembered me in the way I've always wished to be remembered by people, which I sure as hell didn't expect. I had no idea that I had an impact on some of those girls; I thought I was the least suitable person whom they would even consider learning from and the least likely candidate to come along and inspire them. Anyway, to provide context, here is one of the entries I received on that grand last day at the Hewitt School.

"Shit, where do I begin? You've been here for 2 years (in great pain) and yet you've still managed to offer something great. You are one of those people who come along and stretch my mind. I will miss the conversations we have after Advisory, and being able to look across the room at you and know that someone just 'gets it'. You say what you think, not what others want you to think. You are sanity and originality, brilliance and analysis, even in this ocean of stillness and conformity. I hope you continue to question everything and fight the fight, and one day reach peace. I can't thank you enough because I feel like I won't realize everything I learned from you until I get the opportunity to implement it."

I made a conscious effort to rebel in a myriad ways when I went to Hewitt. It sometimes got me into trouble but it always gave me gratification. We all were forced to look the same via uniforms, so I felt an obligation to make it clear that I was not one of them despite our physical homogeneity. While I do not feel any spirit of warm kindredness toward those girls, I do appreciate that they took the time for one day out of the school year to let me know that my struggle to salvage my originality taught them a little bit about the nature of iconoclasm. God knows if they'll retain it, but that's not where my quandary lies.

My issue is the fact that it is in our times of struggle and adversity that we realize the true meaning of discovering who we are and presenting it to the world. Since I never found my comfort zone in New York, I had to work extra hard to develop a sense of self. Now, I live in California and feel happier with my station in life. I wonder if feeling too situated is a curse, for it destroys that little engine encased in the shrouds of displacement and uneasiness which propels us to find a sense of home and identity.

I think this affliction affects the weak minded and complacent. I try to remind myself every day that we are never truly done growing up until the day we die. Therefore, we cannot become too fixed into our niches; we will miss out on so much learning, growth, and joy.

Panem et Circenses

2009-07-16T16:51:00.000-07:00

Hello there my young child. Put that book down and listen to me.
My, what a beautiful piece of carbon-based wastage you’re growing up to be!

It’s 8:42 am. We’re losing contact.

Allow me to nurture you. See how I provide you with the illusion of choice with your 500 channels? Bow down to me. I’m responsible for making Vladimir cry.
He envies my ability to vegetate you.

It’s 8:46 am. Flight 11 impacts the North Tower.

Sit right there. Continue to absorb as I sensationalize.

It’s 8:52 am. The F-15s are scrambling.

These problems don’t affect you. We’ll get around to fixing them. Stay complacent in your contentment with the war—you’re not the one fighting it.

It’s 9:00 am. Flight 77 hits the pentagon.

Sit still. Allow me to offer you more short term government palliatives. I know you’ll unwittingly comply. You and I have formed a lovely relationship. You’re bored, I entertain you. You’re disgruntled and I pacify you.
I am your baseline necessity. You need me.

It’s 9:02 am. Flight 175 impacts the South Tower.

Some say I’m sick. They say I should be reformed in order to counteract the natural tendency to seek power. I say fuck ‘em. If you wanna watch The Bachelor getting screwed over by the scantily clad cheap trick in the red, you go for it.

It’s 9:21 am. The Port Authority orders all bridges and tunnels in New York to close.

You know something? You’re much, much cuter as an inactive, sleeping pawn. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re one big myoma that thinks your planet supports you and you alone, and let’s keep it that way.

It’s 10:03am. Flight 93 crashes. Except there are no plane parts. And the hole in the ground is only 14 feet wide. But you weren’t supposed to know that.

Young child, don’t let anyone tell you I’m trying to infect you. You’re a pathetic example of earth’s organic heritage, but I adore you! I see you spend with careless abandon, but I love you anyway. Remember back in March, 2003? The Gallop poll asserted that 51 percent of your fellow Americans thought Saddam Hussein was personally responsible for 9/11.

That’s all my doing. No need to thank me.

So remember, baby doll, listen and listen good—the only way to ensure progress for a more perfect union is to remember who your goddamn boss is.

that one night at Borders

2009-03-12T04:48:00.000-07:00

I'm not gonna lie. It's kind of cool how much of a genius I am when it comes to people. Getting inside their heads. Picking their brains. Calculating the size of their ego after looking them up and down. Determining their strengths and weaknesses after shaking their hand. Deciphering someone's insecurities after knowing them for mere seconds.

A lot of it just has to do with those innate qualities you seem to have if you're the type of person who loves to understand people for who they really are.

There are certain things I'll ask you, and based on your reactions and responses, I'm able to size you up. Right then and there. It's like a goddamn mathematical formula. I revel in being able to store in my memory what topic someone was telling me about when I detected elevated voice patterns in their speech. It can be very telling, and an exquisite window into the mentality of a downright fascinating person.

My favourite question to ask is what memory someone cherishes the most. Based on both the content of your recollection compounded with the manner in which you express it, I am able to extrapolate where your priorities lie and what is truly important to you with utmost precision.

But you...

I wasn't calculating as you spoke. I was completely immersed in every word you said and every syllable you uttered was like a symphony to which I became absolutely hypnotized. It was amazing how we fed off of each other's energy. The way you described that one time you and your sisters went to Disneyland when you were younger and the way you painted a picture of your childhood innocence and optimism that had clearly decayed so bitterly was nothing short of enchanting. I remember I couldn't wipe that grin off my face that mirrored that look of ecstasy you wore and I swear I can see it as vividly as if it were happening right now. You brought me into the atmosphere of that one afternoon when you were all so completely blissful, then brought yourself back to reality as you somberly told me that you never really felt that way ever again. You paused with your head down. Then you looked at me. It put me into a trance.

That look you gave me was more conclusive than anything I've been able to deduct from any conversation I've had with anyone during my stay on this planet.

"But I think I'm starting to feel that way again."

It was never said but we both fucking know it. I reciprocated with a stare that sent across the same degree of appreciation. If not more.

Dear Mother:

2009-02-07T22:46:00.000-08:00

There's a reason why I hate it when we get along;

I know it's just not going to last.

Lately I've come to realize how alike we really are. Our similarities are primarily characterized by our woes.

We share the same pain. Two people who feel isolated, two people who appreciate the vastness and complexity of the world God created for us but still can't help but feel unsatisfied.

We're lonely people. We wait for things. We both conditioned ourselves to not expect anything because people don't deliver, life doesn't deliver. We've learned the true nature of trust: how rare it is, and subsequently how valuable.

You taught me many things, but in all of my bullshit you taught me how important it is to be myself. That's all I've ever tried to do. Nowadays I feel like I finally found stability on the ladder of self reflection- you gave me those helpful pushes that have allowed me to examine myself and feel comfortable doing so.

It astounds me how you can turn my best intentions into assault weapons. I do my best for you but you'll reach so hard and rip out a flaw and amplify it so extensively and even then you can still manage to magnify it even further. It still makes me brittle. It still makes me break. I glue myself back together time and time again, making modifications and tweaks to satisfy all parties but you can make me fall apart again.

I like the robust varieties made of concrete and stone. They last through the worst storms and the strongest lightning and the toughest blows. One of these days I'll be made of stone and we'll have you to thank.

In The Waiting Line

2008-05-29T01:32:00.000-07:00

The rope is being wrapped tighter and tighter around your neck.

The wind serves as a vessel, transporting the leaves into the distance, parallel to the birds in constant motion.
But I can take no flight of my own.

Do you ever get the feeling that something good is always happening somewhere else?

They say my flight will take off soon.
But I’ve been on the waiting list far too long.

I’ve been watching the planes land and take off for two years now—
But the Pilot doesn’t think I’m ready to leave.

I wander around the airport to pass the time.
But it gets old. All of it.

Change is constant here. New people arriving and departing. New languages I’ve never heard before. I want to be one with the change. I need a fucking change of scenery.
But first I have to make the change within myself.

I’d rather switch airlines and find a fucking way out.

The beautiful becomes the ugly.
That’s what it means to be depressed.
I open the shades of the waiting room and try to enjoy the sun, try to appreciate the people I hate, try and love the sounds I called noise.
That’s what it means to make an effort.
I close the shades of the waiting room and bury my head in my hands once more.
That’s what it means to relapse. Again.

I keep checking the boards for my flight.
It’s not listed.

However... I’m done complaining, too.

Patience is not my forte.
But I’m telling you—

I am
doing
the
best
I
can.

Journal Writing for the 21st Century

2008-05-05T10:48:00.000-07:00

I used to keep a journal up till I was in like, 7th grade when I thought it was cool to keep a "diary", which at that point, entailed my tedious descriptions of what I ate for lunch each day.
So, here I am, basically writing for the first time in three years. These past couple of years have been the most packed years of my entire life and I haven’t been recording any of it. This is because these years have consisted of the most supreme amounts of the following:
a. discovery, and elation
b. fuck ups and consequential learning
c. depression
d. loss, suffocation, and loneliness
e. more depression

I’ve had nothing but the highest highs and the lowest lows. When everything’s perfect, all you can do is enjoy every second of it and soak it all in. Soak in the company your with, your atmosphere, your conversations, everything. When you’re depressed as all hell and subsequently unmotivated to do anything, the only things left to do are to cry, lie in bed, or pathetically hunt for something that can give you some semblance of pleasure (which for the past 2 years has primarily been my Netflix).

Bummer fucking times.

Whaddup, Nazis

2008-04-22T10:11:00.000-07:00

Between 1979 and 1997, income for families in the middle class rose 9 percent. Income for upper class families in the top one percent of the population rose 140 percent. Why has the response to rising inequality been to reduce taxes on the rich? Because we’ve settled for “panem et circenus”: our bread and circuses, and have unwittingly complied with short-term government palliatives offered in place of a solution for significant, long-term problems. Our baseline necessities and entertainment have become the only entities the broad masses long for and are satisfied with. Meanwhile, George Bush has packed the Labor Board with his cronies serving corporate bigwigs at the expense of workers, after FDR passed the National Labor Relations Act to protect workers. Adolph Hitler said, “The broad masses of a population are more amenable to the appeal of rhetoric than to any other force.” It worked to his advantage once in history, and this same ideal is very likely to follow through at our expense on such a massively catastrophic scale once more if we continue to be inactive, sleeping pawns. Standing idly by, settling with complacency goes against the idea that to be a productive human on this earth means to be a nonconformist. What we need is a healthy media system to counteract the natural tendency to seek power, which reinforces the notion of protecting your interests by paying attention. Why is this imperative? In March 2003, the gallop poll asserted that 51 percent of Americans thought Saddam Hussein was personally responsible for 9/11.
Enough said.

Blind Acceptance Can Be Hazardous

2008-04-22T08:04:00.000-07:00

People aren’t stopping to think and reflect once they realize that they are on the side of the majority. The human race has been brainwashed to think that we’re on pedestals when I feel that so many of us have become useless ecosystem-destroying carbon based wastage.

But alas, in a society where the media system is a pure subsidiary of corporate America, we are conditioned to lead completely unbalanced lives. There is a frighteningly weak democracy in this country and an ever increasing rate of depoliticization that propels tyrannical governments around the world to envy our vegetated population. Our media system trivializes or sensationalizes news rather than making an earnest attempt to educate us in a culture where information is supposed to be the currency of democracy. However, the illusion of choice is maintained when we can have 100 cable channels, magazine stands, movies, and a plethora of music at our fingertips, when really it’s all just the products of 5 or 6 multinational corporations that serve as Big Brother.

It aggravates me when my peers hold the mindset of “these problems aren’t affecting ME, someone else will get around to fixing them...,” which has never worked throughout history; much like when I’ve heard people say that they’re fine with the war because they don’t have to go and fight it. Or, despite the HUNDREDS of discrepancies that I alone have found and publicized in regards to the 9.11 Commission Report, people still settle for the official story because it’s not directly affecting their lives. (All the while I see grieving families at Ground Zero every day desperately yearning for real answers.)

Question the official story.

Our Current State

2007-04-22T00:59:00.000-07:00

I was talking with this guy Dallas the other day, also a 9/11 Truther. He was talking about how 9/11 really fucked him up. Emotionally, psychologically and all that jazz... And how he had this idea molded by observations made throughout his entire life of how the world worked, how people operated under certain conditions, and the role of government in light of all of it. All of that changed after 9/11 when it became clear that this was the catalyzing event revolving around lies and cover-ups and mind games in a time where our liberties are being restrained rather than advocated. He's twenty-five.
I was nine when 9/11 happened. It made me think... I didn't undergo such a pivotal experience where I had to shift the way I viewed the world and transform my mindset which maintained that my government was benevolent into something darker and subsequently more realistic. It was just the world I was brought into.
Two thoughts came to mind:
This fact could mean that all the other kids apart of my generation will be automatically immune to the atrocities of the world in which we live, because they know of nothing else and don't have a vision of a more idealistic yet attainable society of which we as a whole can help shape and be a part. It saddens me. To know nothing else than to be a sleeping pawn and be satisfied with it. A life where ignorance really is bliss.
Or:
We will learn to sharpen our spears from a young age, and learn where to target them.
I'm striving every day to create the latter.