Last Broadcast

Things that prevent me from being a good blogger

2008-08-29T20:45:00.002-04:00

I am terrible at updating

I have no clear and objective focus

I have a tenancy to ramble

My writing is only funny to me

My use of English is very dense

I enjoy puppies.

Deception

2008-05-03T20:02:00.001-04:00

Happiness, its not something that's meant for me. I'm just destined to live my life alone and miserable. Smiles, laughter, it's all transient. Human beings, we aren't born for smiles. Were born crying and screaming, frowns and tears streaming from our faces. Its not a smile that sits on our face when we die, its a frown that is the last thing we take with us into the great beyond. Everything which bookends these two events essentially amounts to lies and gimmicks. What is love worth? Nothing. Its a feeling we scramble and scratch for, fight to earn for a lifetime, and when we get it, we find ourselves pushing it away, questioning it because we don't believe its real deep in our hearts. In the back of everyone's mind, we all know that were being Fooled by love. Inside were all ugly and worthless. Who can love such horrible, blackened souls? Where does love get off fucking with us like that? I'm committed to spending my life staying true to my birth and eventual death: live alone, miserable, because I don't want to indulge in the lie of love. I'm sick of chasing after a lie which won't last past the next moment. I renounce any human emotion or feeling which I might experience, because I don't want to entertain lies ever again.

Pomp and circumstance

2008-04-13T14:43:00.001-04:00

I don't really understand my religion sometimes. My father walked in, asking me if I wanted to go to the temple last night. At midnight. I didn't know what to say, so I agreed, and we left.

We got there, and I was stunned to see hundreds of people streaming in and out. Apparently, some sort of big holiday was here. So we take off our shoes and go in.

My father handed me a five, and I put it in the charity box and prayed before the altar. My father told me to pray for what I wanted, to pray for my good fortunes and to have my wishes come true. I only prayed for one thing.

We got up, and went to sit and I guess take in the music and find some sort of spiritual fulfillment. I sat there, staring at this statue of Durga Maa,
Not really sure what to feel or say. I basically had an internal dialog with myself, or God, or I don't know. I basically say there, and continued my prayer. Which is unsual for me. I'm not a religious person at all. In fact, most aspect of religion sicken me. But last night, I sat there, and made my plea to God.

Some other ceremonies followed. I had some holy string or something tied around my wrist. I had a red mark placed on my forehead. I was blessed by a priest. I didn't really understand what was happening.

Finally, a priest handed me an apple. I asked my father what the apple signified. He told me that it was a blessing from God, that by eating it, I was taking the blessing from God and it would extend the prayers I had made in the temple. So when I got home, I polished off the apple, and ate it.

I don't know what happened last night. It was sort of surreal. A real blur.

Symbiote

2008-04-04T23:57:00.000-04:00

Something in me is convinced that I will be alone for the rest of my life. I can't recall any relationship I've been able to maintain beyond a certain half life. Everything decays and rots away despite my most concerted efforts to infuse something of hope and love into them. Little by little, step by step, the relationships which I value and hold highest above all else fade away from vision, leaving me standing solitary in a field of my own insecurities and neurosis. Everything, everything, EVERYTHING that I've ever had in my hands has crumbled and fallen apart, no matter what. I can trace the threads back in time and describe and account of the sum of events which led to the same place I find myself in today. It's all cyclical, cicular, endless repetition, looping and iterating unto itself into infinity. It's an inevitable set of patterns, which is forever doomed to repeat itself because I am an eternally flawed and failed human being. Each time, I invest myself into a relationship with a single person, whom I hold above all others, in an idolized, almost godlike position. And for a while, my adulation is rewarded, appreciated, applauded, valued, appreciated, desired. And it is reciprocated and returned and removes and shadows which lurk in my mind and I am at peace, for a time. And then it happens. Like clockwork; the gears slip a bit, rust settles in, and the rot which began at the core begins to spread outwards and festering. It buds and builds and rises and falls and develops into a catastrophic tidal wave. Misunderstandings build to arguments which leads to shouting matches which end with heartache. But it never just ends with a few harsh tongue lashings and strewn feelings. It leads to the same tragic, terrible end, whence all of the same misery and heartache begins - my idol, my center, removes itself completely from my core, piercing directly and poignantly into the place hollowed in my soul for which the idol occupied. It is removed, taken away and leaves me stripped, naked, bare, bleeding with open wounds with no chance of recovery or stabilization. And I return to the same beginning state, the state of roaming catharsis, seeking the next victim to form my trademarked symbiotic relationship with, a new creature to latch upon to regain the sustenance of my previous life.

Mother dear

2008-03-31T19:12:00.002-04:00

I miss my mother. I really do. It's taking me three weeks to realize it, but having the comfort of my mother being there when I wake up, when I come home, when I need a question answered or a bill covered, having my mom there was always the security blanket for me to fall back on. And now, I haven't had that for the last three weeks. It's scary, I never realized how dependent I was on her until today. It's kind of depressing. I've always prided myself on being self-sufficient, a loner, and it turns out, I'm nothing unless I have my mother standing behind me.

Touch

2008-03-30T23:50:00.001-04:00

But I just end up getting a lot of time to think. And when you have time to think, and you think as deeply and crazily as I do, you tend to think about things which get you down.

Truth be told, I'm addicted to human contact. I love talking to people and meeting new people and just having people surround me. I need that feeling in my life. And I really need that feeling now.

So if you could provide it to me, it would be much appreciated.

Reshift

2008-03-30T18:16:00.003-04:00

I miss talking to someone. I miss having that safety valve for, if I was just sitting around with nothing to do, I had that one person I could talk to for hours on end. I miss having the security blanket. I don't like being alone. I never have. I've always wanted people around me, people to confide in, people to share with. As antisocial as I can appear to be, I really value relationships and other human being more than anything in the world. What matters the most to me in this world is being able to have those who I am secure with, whom I can express my feelings and anxieties and hopes and dreams with. I have always believed that having a foil, a mirror to reflect upon myself is the most useful way to understand if I have grown or changed or anything. Hell is other people, and hell is loneliness. Human beings are social creatures by nature, creatures who crave and seek contact. But human beings are also consumed by inhibitions, fears, and notions of self-conscious. The perfect human being isn't really a human being at all, it's something quite opposite. It's a person who is born fortunate enough to not feel the same fears and woes that the rest of us do. My problem is that I was born with more doubt than the normal person. And that's why I'm sitting here alone, in my room, consumed with loneliness and fear, not sure of what to do or who to talk to. I have dozens of communication tools right here at my finger tips, and each one of them is useless because I don't know where to start, who to reach out, or how to get rid of this unerring feelings of emptiness.

Sundays

2008-03-30T12:07:00.000-04:00

It was the furthest I've ever gone just to drink with friends, but it was really worth it. It was nice and intimate, and I think everybody had a really good time.

Now, if I could just remember what I said...

I'm spending my morning setting up digital cable in my house, and listening to the Zombies. How come no one knows they're probably the greatest band ever?

Severed, reserved

2008-03-29T00:55:00.002-04:00

What if life could be lived out in reverse? What if, knowing all of the events of the following day, you could spend every day of your life going backwards, solving the problems of your life before they occur, preventing ills before they spread, knowing and understanding the precautions to be taken prior to onset, living each day to solve the mistakes made in the last day, only, those days were happening in reverse, making each day another chance to make right, to prevent heartache and remorse from ripping apart our lives.

Graveyards

2008-03-29T00:07:00.002-04:00

Do you know what my problem is? I think too much. My mind is too active. I'm constantly daydreaming, fantasizing, making events occur behind my eyelids. Even as I'm watching events in real time, they occur on divergent paths to those which occur in my own mind, running opposite to events as I hope they should occur. Scenes play out in my mind like a constantly running and self editing film, moving to the will and flow of my hopes and dreams and desires. Catching a glimpse of her eyes, my mind leads me across time and space, to some sort of divergent universe where my fantasies play out as reality, where I am the central actor in a play where my life follows the events of my dreams. In my dreams, I get the girl. In my dreams, I am the winner, I make the winning shot, I get the glory, I achieve the apex of my existence.

The cruel joke of reality is that it never follows your dreams. Hope, desire, fantasy, they have no place in reality. Dreams die the second they escape into reality. What we expect, what we plan for, it never actually comes to pass. What's left are circumstances which suck away at our souls, leave us hollowed and empty and barren husks of humanity.

Insufficient

2008-03-19T22:07:00.002-04:00

I never realized until recently what great friends I have. I didn't realize the support system and the people willing to talk to me at all crazy times of the day. I'm truly appreciative of all you guys, I really am. You guys have really been there for me, and I don't know how I can ever repay you guys.

I had a bad night of sleep last night

2008-03-17T11:45:00.000-04:00

I don't know why, but all of my dreams were nightmares last night. I can't really remember any of them,but the bits and pieces I can remember make me feel awful. When I woke up this morning, I had the combined feeling that someone had punched me in the stomach and stuck a few blades into my heart.

Yeah, my nightmares were that vivid. I hope this isn't a portent of things to come.

I'm a mixed bag of emotions right now.

2008-03-14T19:17:00.001-04:00

Lot's going on. There's some hope and excitement, some melancholy and fear, anger and loathing, disappointment and sorrow, longing and desire, and all sorts of other shit roaming through my head right now.

Mostly the good stuff, but I can never really escape the bad stuff either. But that's ok. The bad never disappears, and the good can only get better. The only thing I want is for the specific good things I want to happen to me. Like, getting this internship. And, I dunno, other stuff. We KNOW what the other stuff is, I'm just saying. I want it. And lately, if I've wanted something, I've gotten something. So you know what? I KNOW what I want. And I WILL get it. It's just that simple.

Nothing is going to stop me now.

Remember

2008-03-04T23:27:00.001-05:00

Remember when I sang “Shoes” to you over the phone so you and your mom could hear it? Remember when we would wait breathlessly for days waiting to get each other’s letters in the mail? Remember when we stayed up until late at night talking to each other? Remember when we went to Disneyworld, and that bird pooped on me? Remember when you called me the night you took DXMs, and I stayed up all night worrying about you? Remember when I called you and walked fifty blocks to Penn Station? Remember when we held hands and walked around all day? Remember when you called and left me a voicemail telling me how you felt? Remember when you sent me a mix CD made especially for me? Remember when we would leave each other long comments about our days, our hopes, our dreams, our fears? Remember when you would call me late at night coming home, and how afraid you were of the spiders making webs around your front door? Remember when I would drunk dial you because you asked me to, and no matter how late at night it was or how drunk and stupid I was acting, you would always pick up? Remember when you would call me on your break, and it would be the first thing I would wake up to in the morning? Remember when I would talk to you while your were painting, and I would rant and rave about how amazing your work was? Remember how you would show me pictures of dresses you wanted from Free People, and how I promised I would buy them for you when you came up here? Remember how I sent you a t-shirt that was a size too small for you, but you ended up wearing it anyway? Remember how when we would drive in your car, and you would hold my hand and smoke with your other hand? Remember when I said I loved you, and you said you loved me too, and we both meant it? Remember when I held you in my arms, and how my heart burst into a million pieces because I had never been truly, really happy until that single moment in my life?

Is it growth or regression?

2008-03-01T15:41:00.001-05:00

I never used to have a problem being alone. I've pretty much always been alone. I can't really think of a moment in my adult life where I haven't invariably ended up just not being with anybody. I'm used to it. Sure, I've always wanted to be with somebody, I have a relationship, to be wanted, all of that. And I've tried reaching out to people and getting close, but it never really worked out, and I pretty quickly went back to being the normal me. Everything was fine.

But this is different. Now, I'm alone. And it terrifies me to no end. All I'm doing now is sitting here worrying if I'll always be alone. Being alone scares me and worries me. I don't know how to handle it. I really would just like to be with someone. Anyone. I want that feeling back. I don't want to feel alone anymore. I want to have that warmth and security which once filled up my life.

Sitting in this Saturday class

2008-03-01T09:46:00.002-05:00

After my parents had that party last night and dealing with drunken old Indian people. Seriously, people who I don't really know basically knew my GPA, my family history, hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they knew my social security number.

Ugh. Not to mention this class is unbearable. This teacher hardly teaches. Conversations fall off from security standards to Taylorism principles to Japanese quality standards to Japanese films to who the fuck knows.

Busy work

2008-02-19T14:51:00.002-05:00

I find it pretty irritating that professor's assign basically books to read and expect us to have it done in about a week. Considering the amount of time undergraduates have (very little) and the amount of depth assigned readings bring to lectures or texts (little), I'll never understand why a professor expects me to have 200+ pages of a book read. If the reading is only glossed over in an exam, and hardly discussed in lecture, why should I read it? I'm loathe to read unless I know it will serve a purpose. I like to keep as enjoyable of an activity as I possibly can, and for the most part, reading for class is like getting your teeth pulled.

A little musical activity

2008-02-18T21:55:00.003-05:00

I check out a lot of the music I listen to from podcasts. Some of the best are Dallas Does Indie and IndieFeed. Dallas Does Indie offers a batch of tunes on a biweekly basis, where IndieFeed has a variety of "feeds" (pop, alternative, electronica, hip-hop) released on a sporadic, ala carte basis. I tend to enjoy the DDI podcasts more, as the picks are usually fresh and quite different from what I am used to hearing. I would rate IndieFeed higher, but I find it difficult to find the songs they recommend, and the quality of their picks is hit or miss.

Watch the Night Sky

2008-02-18T21:47:00.001-05:00

So are you going to watch for the total lunar eclipse on Wednesday night? I am. Check here to see when it all goes down. I look at the sky every night, but Wednesday I'll be looking very closely. I just hope the predicted showers and clouds clear up by then.

I don't want to miss something like this.

I'm in the market for new friends.

2008-02-17T23:45:00.000-05:00

Guys, girls, whatever, let's just talk and shit. I'm going to start putting myself out here and I don't give a shit what sticks or not. What are my attractive traits? Well...

For guys: I love sports. Like, I bleed statistics and ESPN coverage. I listen to the same kind of music you do. I am a great wingman. I love alcohol.

For girls: I'm obvious handsome. I'm a good conversationalist, but I'm best at listening. I can talk to you about stuff you're interested in. I have a car.

See? I'm like, the perfect person to be friends with! Plus, I know cool places to go to, I'm a good dinner buddy, and most of all, I love you.

Troubled waters

2008-01-28T22:06:00.000-05:00

I think I'm on the verge of a breakdown. I feel nervous. I feel things slipping away. I really feel something creeping up and knocking and starting the pound on the walls of head and heart. Something's there, and it's burgeoning and growing inside and it's scaring me. I'm hardly ever scared of anything. Most things in life, I face with confidence, even a certain arrogance, because I've been able to handle most things in my life. Sure, there's always apprehension in the things I face, but right now, I feel something that I've never really felt before. It's the indescribable feeling in my heart, like a hole or a drain or something. A black hole drifting inside of me, sucking and tearing asunder everything in its path. It's not depression. I've felt depression before. I still have hope, but it's like the hope of bobbing above the choppy waters in a hurricane. I hope that there will be a rescue boat, a beacon, a break in the storm, but with each wave that comes crashing down on me, the hope is dampened and the fear starts to set in. I suppose that's probably the best way to describe myself right now: I'm still hopeful, still clinging to whatever I have left, but it's pretty rapidly fading and I feel it slipping away with each moment.

I'm really, really scared, and I haven't been that way in a while. I need something, someone to bail me out here. I don't know if I'm really that connected with anyone any more, but if someone thinks they can help, or offer advice or anything, I would appreciate it I guess. My main point is that I need someone to help me face the burden. I think I can shoulder it, I just need someone to pat me on the back and let me know that it's alright. I don't know. Perhaps is a longing for that feeling that someone can shelter me when things go wrong? Who knows. I feel like I'm screaming at the top of my lungs in a crowded room and no one can hear me. I'm sure I've said that before, but it's still true today.

I need to get a bit more Zen in my life

2008-01-22T00:43:00.001-05:00

I think I'll maybe take up mediation. I need to stop sweating the small details in life.

Also, dating more would help. Or just making new friends.

First new post of the year

2008-01-21T23:17:00.000-05:00

I always resolve to post in my blog more every few months. I always seem to fail. Well, this year things will be different. I hope. I think my main problem is I don't get enough feedback from whatever audience I may or may not have. Its hard to to write when you feel like you're writing to an empty audience. So here's a deal I think we should make with each other: I'll write more blogs, and you guys provide lots of feedback so it feels like someone is reading what I'm saying, ok?

Music categorization

2007-09-28T16:00:00.000-04:00

One of my hobbies (Rather, one of my obsessions) is perfectly labeling and organizing my MP3s, both by filename and ID3 tags. This is probably why I have a (relatively) small collection of MP3s at 3100 songs - I spend more time organizing my songs than I do actually listening to the songs! I should probably go through my MP3 library and delete all of the songs I don't like, but, frankly, that would take too much time. I would rather just spend time rating all of my songs and only playing the songs I have most highly rated.

This are the existential crises that follow me in life.

I swear, I'll try to do a better job of keeping this up

2007-09-26T23:35:00.001-04:00

Honestly. Every time I start to gain some steam blogging, I sort of peter out and lose interest for various reasons. I'll be damned if I know why or how. Probably from lack of motivation, i.e., not having millions of adoring fans reading every blog post. Perhaps I need advertising. I need to do something to build up a reader base. I like think that this blog is more than just a glorified journal online that anyone can Google.

At least, I pray and hope that this is so. If not, I'll be embarrassed when someone Googles me in 30 years.

That leads to an interesting thought: Will everything we know persist on into the future? Think about it, what are the brands and names and things that have persisted from the past? The media conglomerates, sure, Disney, GE, Viacom, the pharmaceutical giants, Johnson & Johnson, Proctor & Gamble, Mattel, I guess, GM and Ford (but they're quickly dying), and what else? I really don't know. The Gap was huge in the 90's, but who really thinks, "Wow, the Gap!" anymore? Not many. Apple has been resurgent, historically, anyway, which is cool, but I can't think of many companies beyond what I listed. Which just goes to show, it's impossible to persist in today's world. So the giants of today, who knows how long they'll last?

Anyway, my rules for the day:

Rule #1: If you have a pot belly, and it's hanging out, you should consider getting larger shirt size. I saw a girl who was in fine shape, except for her stomach. A pot belly hanging out from underneath her wife beater. It was horrible.

Rule #2: Don't smoke if it only ends up making you look nerdier than you are. The primary motivation for people my age to smoke is because they look "cool". I saw someone smoking today, and all that I noticed while they were smoking is what a nerd this kid looked like.

How the phone won the Cold War

2007-05-27T00:29:00.000-04:00

So I got into a discussion with my mother as to why I thought socialism would never work. I basically made it up as I went along, but I think I actually put out some very good ideas that I'd like to save before I forget them. After all, in case anyone wants me to sue them for stealing a thesis from me later on in their lives, I think it's a good idea to have a hard copy to save for court.

Anyway, the reason I said socialism would never work is because Karl Marx expected men to practice it. This is a completely unreasonable expectation - men at the very cores are selfish, self interested creatures that will enhance my ability, and the ability of my offspring, to survive. Consequently, this immediately degrades the presence of all others besides the individual person. Of course, circumstances and situations could certainly demand cooperation between individuals, working together towards common goals of survival, gathering food, building shelter, etcetera and so forth, but in the face of a predator or disaster, all individuals break down and find regard for their own being, and in certain circumstances, their immediate family.

Notice a word I deliberately used in that paragraph: individual. Not just "one person" or "being". Individual. The word holds profound meaning in the argument I present: the individual is alone, separated, apart from others. No matter how empathic or sensitive and individual is, the still retain those very primordial blocks within their psyche that intentionally walls them off from the others of their species. That's why the only time in the entire course of the natural world has social ever worked, it's been in hive environments, restricted primarily to insects. Should some sort of evolutionary quirk arise that allows mankind to develop the characteristics of a hive mind, then certainly, socialism would work and flourish.

But the fact of the matter remains that humans are not hive creatures, but individuals, and as such, are selfish, greedy and self interested. What results when you put the average person in a socialist system is predictable almost to the letter. A few unsatisfied individuals will begin to covet power for themselves, and assert that they hold the knowledge of improvement to the systems of lifestyle which exist. These few will rise to power, creating a communist form of government. Two branches of political thought develop: Conservative and liberal. Conservatives, the current aristocracy, cling to the past and the power they currently posses, fighting vigorously to maintain the status quo. Liberals are the closet aristocrats, rebels who preach improvement and a desire to rip the power away from the current rulers with the promise of making life better. Of course, the classic liberal (rebel) belief is that the only way to a better life is through the way that they themselves see it, logically demanding that they (the liberals) allocate all of the power to themselves.

My next point as to why socialism will never work in our world is simple and clichéd - technology. At the time of Marx's initial thought and publications, the Industrial Revolution was occurring. Mankind's progress to that point has been rather measured and plodding: An invention here, a development there, but nothing so dramatic as to change the course of life too much over the last two centuries or so. Marx wrote his works in a vacuum, believing that even if socialism didn't take when he presented it initially, things would remain fairly constant enough in terms of lifestyle that socialism would eventually succeed and flourish. What occurred in the century and a half after Marx's work, however, completely invalidated the basic tenants of socialism.

Before I delve further into my argument of technology further, however, I need to back up and explain myself. Marx saw socialism most effective in restricted communities, with a few people assigned to a few roles that everyone contributed to equally in a communal fashion. Ideally, these communities are small, say, of less than a thousand people, and are spaced out enough that it becomes difficult for any sort of central power system to develop to every really coordinate these communities in an effective manner. This, after all, reflected what most life in the mid nineteenth century was, farming communities that were just devolving as the factory lifestyle was picking up and cities began booming. Marx still held the belief that sedentary life could be revived under socialism, and the allure of sprawling metropolitans would fade away.

This is the point at which technology invalidates Marx's theories. The technological boom that followed Karl Marx's writing was almost completely unanticipated, since there had never been a boom similar to it in the entire course of human history. In the time following the initial proposal of socialism, telephones, cars, planes, television, the Internet, cell phones, personal multimedia devices, and uncountable more developments were made in only the twentieth century. All of these devices served to accomplish one purpose: Making the world smaller. Where a hundred mile trip was once a chore that made transporting goods inconvenient, the car made for rapid transportation of goods and people. Where traveling to another country was once only possibly by sea, for possibly months at a time, planes made the entire ordeal less than a day long. Sending a telegram took weeks, preventing anything from being time sensitive and allowing for tasks to be done at a leisurely pace. With the telephone and Internet, work was expected to be done not only by a certain deadline, but at the instant someone was told about it.

The world was made smaller, which allowed for much easier central control by a group of select individuals who had consolidated the bulk of power. A few businessmen and politicians effectively run the entire world through the use of a few technological devices. People are controlled with only a few clicks of a mouse, controlling the information they receive, the amount of money in their banks accounts, and the time of day at which they sleep. Of course, the response to the assertion I make is that mediums like the Internet allow for free discourse and ideas to develop (Much like this essay I'm writing) and that because of this, central governments can never really hold the power I claim. This is foolishness. These are quirks allowed for by the system. By giving the illusion of rebellion, of a possibility of freedom, the central bodies create valves which relieves pressure that is built up by the demands of the rebellious few. Eventually, as the rebels age and gain "common sense", conservatism sets in, and the aged rebels then seek to maintain the status quo.

The key linchpin in order to make socialism ever work would lie in having the population of the human race explode at an exponential rate, but then immediately fly off into the four corners of the universe. Note, I didn't just say the world: I meant the entire universe. Light years upon light years would have to separate pockets of people in order to keep them from falling under the influence of one centralized power group. Until that day comes, and who knows if it ever will, socialism will never work.

Bars, notes and lyrics, in proper order

2007-05-13T01:02:00.000-04:00

I've discovered I'm very picky when it comes to the music I listen to. First and foremost, if I dislike the sound of the lead singer's voice, I will not listen to the track. Plain and simple, I will skip over a song if the voice I hear had a strange twang or quirk to it. Notable examples are Joy Division, Interpol and the Hot Hot Heat. Whenever I hear these strange sounding voices, it makes me cringe and wonder why everybody thinks imitating Eddie Vedder's voice is a good idea. It's not. I suppose it's also a product of the music I've listed to previously, as well as the conditioning of American musical sensiblities. There simply isn't any sort of historical precedent for a deep, almost bass-like lead vocalist in modern rock. Most American rock requires a high pitched, almost lilting male voices driving the vocals of rock bands.

Another thing I despise is when the lead singer, even if they have a fine voice, begins to yelp. For some reason, over the last five years or so, several lead singers in bands decided it would be a really good idea to yelp in the middle of their songs. Most of the time, it catches me off guard. A seemingly good, normal track, and then all of a sudden, I hear a dog yelping, except, no, that's the lead singer, yelping some word. It's worse than hearing nails across a chalkboard. I can't listen to any of the early stuff by Bloc Party because the lead singer seems dead set on yelping every other word into the microphone, resulting in probably the first album made for dogs.

Finally, the thing that grates me the most is nonsensical musical twists, i.e., the lead guitarist in a band suddenly deciding that, to push the boundaries of musical vision, they will play the guitar with their tongue. At least, that's what some of this shit sounds like. I personally don't get it. I understand that you believe that the sound you're creating sounds revolutionary, novel and completely cool, but trust me, it's just shit. If the music isn't catchy and foot tapping, why make it? Boundaries are made to be broken, but not at the expense of being able to listen and enjoy the music. I don't mean this in term of selling records, I just mean this in terms of sparing the ear drums of the sorry fucks who have to listen to you try to channel your inner-Hendrix.

What gets most frustrating for me is when people begin recommending this stuff to me, thinking it's right up my alley. Everybody seems to think I should love the White Stripes. After all, they're an indie rock group, they have a nice little blues rock sound going, and they have a number of catchy little tunes. Well, I hate the White Stripes. I can't fucking stand them. Seeing Jack and Meg White play all by their lonesome, hearing the same repetitive lyrics for three minutes drives me fucking crazy. I honestly can't stand it. Even worse is Last.fm. I signed up on last.fm in an attempt to try and expand my musical horizons, feeding it my tastes in the hopes of finding a cool new bunch of bands to listen to. What do I get? Fucking Dave Matthews Bands, The White Stripes and The Smiths queued up to listen to. These are all bands I hate. It makes me question the quality of this shitty site. It also makes my life harder, as I have to try and find good music by scouring for it and spending all kinds of time digging around when that's what the job of last.fm is. Ugh. The future is not much easier than the past.

My view as Atlas

2007-05-12T23:11:00.000-04:00

My life definitely isn't normal. The events of peoples lives, those moments which define people, that people look back upon with fondness and nostalgia, these moments are depressing and crushing for me. I never went to junior prom. I did go to senior prom, but it was a comedy of events unlike any the world has ever seen. First, I couldn't find a date, so I ended up taking my sister's friend who has been strung out on coke since she was 13. While driving my father's car to prom, I rear ended the car in front of me and rolled up to prom with the front bumper of the car I was driving hanging off. I don't actually remember prom itself. There was music and lights and dancing, but I only remember emotions of angers and shame and fear tinging my vision that followed everything I did.

Other life defining moments that have been ruined by my existence? My first kiss. My graduation. Freshman year of college. Getting my driver's license. Playing football. Everyday of my life is tinged with tragedy and melancholy and failure. I honestly question my existence in this world. Am I here for the sole purpose of making other people's lives better? Am I the focus of misery and unfortunate circumstances in this world? I never asked to bear this pain and suffering. I can't stand it.

I don't have pleasant memories. I wish my mind could be erased and filled with happier things. Fake memories are better than real memories of pain.

The way we speak, and how we speak it

2007-05-05T21:46:00.000-04:00

There are two parts to spoken or written conversation: content and process. Content is the actual thing you are speaking about, the sum of conversation and what people are convinced is the thing that actually matters in human interaction. Process is how we speak to one another, how we relate the things that come out of our mouths or flow from our finger tips. Some people have fantastic content they come up with in their minds, but lack the ability in process to keep people engaged and interested in what you are saying, because how you are saying it is treacherously boring. Still others have absolutely nothing relevant to say in their content, and yet they possess fantastic powers of process, twisting people and entertaining them and convincing those whom they speak to that they must be interesting, because they engage people so well.

My personal observation of myself is that I lack the abilities of both process and content. It appears that to me in a great deal of the time I speak to people, anyhow. The content I have in my end seems endlessly entertaining, engaging and worth a couple laughs. Yet when the words flow over my tongue, escape my lips and ring out into dead air, the palpable silence I hear is painful. It feels like needles poking holes in my heart. It's painful and intolerable and horribly depressing. I don't know why I can't get the content straight, after twenty one years of books and movies and television and reading and education. In all that time, I would have figured some worthwhile content would have been generated.

Yet, there's hope for me in the process, correct? Even if what I have to say is banal and dry, at least it sounds interesting, right? Wrong. My weakness in process is even worse than that of my content. When I speak, I unconsciously pitch my voice to this strange, "You should be laughing at what I am saying" sort of tone, setting up for a punchline that never arrives. I guess that's what my fatal flaw is: I'm setting up for a punchline every time I open my mouth, but there isn't a punchline that will ever come. I'm pretty certain this is why I can never be a stand up comedian, because my sense of timing is terrible. Delivery is key not only in stand up, but in conversation as well. If you can't deliver a hammering blow to your points, make things stick and drive them into the heart of you audience, you don't have a snowball's chance in hell. Because snowballs and cold, and hell is hot, so the snowball would melt. Alright? Glad we could clear that up.

Childhood addictions, and a muse needed.

2007-04-15T01:32:00.000-04:00

It just hit me that, for the past ten years, I've been completely uninvested in two of the largest movements of popular culture in our era: Harry Potter and the Sopranos. I suppose this is the counterpoint to the Salon article I saw here. My point is this: While my peers and colleagues have been gluing themselves to their books, TV and movie screens, I've been doing...what, exactly? I couldn't really tell you. The past ten years of my life, I've dedicated to numerous things. I have a closeted adoration of anime, something that I keep secret from most people. After all, if you tell people you're really into tales about a boy wizard who travels between this world and a world where riding around broom sticks is an acceptable sport, nobody so much as bats an eye. But mention that you're really into teenagers piloting robots loosely based on human shapes that transform and people look at you like you're some kind of psychopath. Go figure.

Also, my taste in music has grown. I've evolved from immature punk in the likes of the Ramones (legendary, still) to AC/DC to britpop and all forms of power pop (lame). I've read two separate series of books that are similar, yet completely unrelated to Harry Potter. A child wizard is cool, but dragons and sandworms are weird? Double standards are tiresome and upsetting.

In a convenient topic change, I'm convinced my productivity and creativity would sky rocket if I had a muse. A charming, beautiful lass whose eyes and scent and gossamer hair would inspire sonnets in her name, songs to woo her, plays to make her mine.

That, and lots of hot, hot sex.

Backlash

2007-03-25T23:40:00.000-04:00

I think I've sunk into my deepest melancholy since last summer. It's not quite a depression yet, but it's certainly lingering on the outside walks of that. Nothing has lifted my spirits or really cheered my up lately. Being with my friends leaves me feeling lonelier than I did the night before. When I speak to people, I can see their eyes drifting, their focus and attention falling upon other things until the sound of my voice ends. I'm more aware than ever before about how boring and mindless I sound. I realize I'm terrible and making conversation, and even worse at functioning as a human being. I spent today hiding inside my house, gnawing on my sanity and contemplating if the world would really be so awful if I was to disappear. Morbid thoughts have started coming back into my mind. It's gotten more difficult lately to wake up in the morning. The air is warmer, but it's saturated with water moisture and feels like it's more difficult to breathe. My breath runs quick and more shallow. The sun shines brighter and longer. Spring has come, but as the flowers bloom, my hopes die.

A bit of inner reflection that accomplishes nothing

2007-03-06T02:09:00.000-05:00

Self discovery is a complicated, shape shifting beast. Without it, we are little more than lost souls drifting from one day to the next without ever truly being aware of what lies within us, what enormous, spectacular truths we actively suppress each moment of each day. Yet, once we are faced with we realize truly how portentous it is, how much of our ugly natures we justifiably hold in check because the absence of truth isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes, there's nothing wrong with not knowing the truth. The lies we tell ourselves exist for a reason. It is not for lack of trying that the truth is buried away. We can't handle what reality actually has in store for us. And yet, the unexamined life is not worth living. What is there accomplish if we can't even conquer ourselves? How can mankind discover the ultimate secrets of the universe if we are unable to unearth the ultimate truths of human existence? Man is capable of so much, so much, but nothing has been accomplished because of fear. When fear is overcome, perhaps then the start to self discovery can truly begin.

Sorry

2007-02-13T10:20:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

See?

Life is like a box of bullshit, don't open it.

The top doesn't match the bottom

2007-02-04T02:05:00.000-05:00

I can't believe I have to be the one who says this, but Nelly Furtado's body proportions are simply absurd. Google up a picture of her. Look at the top half of her body, and cover up the bottom with your hand or something. She's flat chested, nice tummy, so on and so forth. Now, find another picture of her, this time, making sure her ass is showing or something. Cover up her top half, and focus on her from the waist down. Her ass is a bubble! This makes no logical sense. Her ass is bootylicious, but her top half is tight and fit?! This makes no sense to me at all.

That isn't to say I don't like it. I LOVE it. It makes for great music videos, let me say that.

Also, Nelly Furtado affirms to me that Timbaland is indeed a genius when it comes to current music. Every artist should collaborate with him. The results would be outstanding. Could you imagine what would have happened to Aaliyah if she hadn't died? Timbaland would have been blowing shit up 4 years ago, easily. Whatever, his work now is producing music that's enjoyable.

Also, Nelly Furtado's videos have made me pay attention to MTV again. The choreography isn't overpowering the song, but complimenting it and making the video better. Also, having Nelly Furtado gyrate with her ass as I mentioned previously certainly helps manners.

A litany of things I should have realized by now

2007-01-22T00:18:00.000-05:00

I'm never going to have a girlfriend.
I'll probably lose my virginity to cheap hooker in Newark.
I'll probably start abusing something soon. Drugs, alcohol, ketchup, something.
I'm obsessive and insanely jealous for no reason, with no justification. There really isn't any rational reason for why I should behave this way.
I'm still 13 years old emotionally and in terms of maturity.
I dislike cooking because of the cleanup.
I'll probably spend most of my leisure time watching porn and jerking off.
I'll never have a very sophisticated wardrobe and will probably end up wearing the same suit for 3 years, every day.
I'll probably find some way to humiliate myself when trying to impress others. I.E., crashing a car because I'm trying to show a friend how fast said car goes.
I won't have any friends in 5 years because I find new ways to piss people off on a rather regular basis.

Spinning the records

2007-01-04T23:15:00.000-05:00

I make no apologies for my taste in music. Quite frankly, it would be pointless to do so. My primary tastes are alternative, but I am by no means restricted to simply this form of music. I thoroughly enjoy hip hop, gangsta rap, folk rock, heavy metal, power pop, electronica, trip hop, old style rock and roll, R&B, jazz, punk, and the list goes on. I find no problem in transitioning from the porn grooves of Al Green into the melodramatic warblings of Death for Cutie, seamlessly leading to the devastating riffs of Iron Maiden. It's simply natural to me.

And of course, probably pretty fucked up for everyone else. But what can I say? It's not something I can control. I simply appreciate many, many different forms of the same art.

No exit

2007-01-04T22:35:00.000-05:00

Systematically, one by one, each person I called "friend" in my life has stopped talking to me over the last few weeks. The trend began about a four months ago, and at this point I have a cell phone that never rings, a computer with AIM that never gets an instant message, a blog with no feedback, and generally a vapid and lonely existence. If it weren't for my own personal eccentricities, I quite honestly believe I would have absolutely fucking lost it by now. Thankfully, my peculiar and quirky nature have allowed me to remain (mostly) self reliant upon my own entertainment capacities.

It's really quite interesting what you can do when the only thing you have to entertain yourself is your own mind. In my head, for instance, I've been lost in thought for hours upon hours. The thoughts range from sports, social interaction, psychological quirks, music, political debate, and attempts to write movie scripts. All of this spans the whole range of whatever crazy, nonsensical cognitions which populate my head.

Quite honestly, I don't really know I'm still sane at this point. I'm still waiting to snap and start ripping open people's chests and eating their hearts. Of course, by admitting this, I'm sure now I really do seem crazy, and now even more people will avoid me. It's a damn endless cycle, I tell you. The snake eating it's own tail. It's funny, I bitch about wanting to be surrounded by other people, yet when I finally gain what I demand and prostrate for, I immediately wish I was alone and confined to solidarity. Yet, faced with my requested solitude, I yearn and dream of the day when I will one be comforted by my multitude of loving and adoring peers.

I suppose Hell really is people.

A story spun over and over again

2007-01-02T23:53:00.000-05:00

Am I really that much of an asshole? Is my personality so grating, are my habits so irksome, am I just such an irritating person that, infallibly, everyone whose path I cross becomes sick of me? I really don't know. I don't try to act annoying. I genuinely just try to do my best to make people laugh, to keep the good mood flowing and not try to cause any trouble. I guess that's a lie, since it appears that all I really ever do IS cause trouble. All I ever seem to do is piss people off with something I say or do.

And then here we go, I become self conscious about my actions, what I say, I spiral into a depression and melancholy. It's all such a terrificly vicious cycle, and in all of my 21 years, I've yet to solve this puzzle. Fantastic.

Did McDonald's kill American community?

2006-12-31T01:30:00.000-05:00

In 1948, the McDonald brothers reopened their immensely popular roadside restaurant, dramatically altering the format of the previous incarnation of their business. Gone were the parking lot waitresses, the large selection of items from the menus, and generally relaxed pace of serving featured prior. Now the Speedee Service System churned out simple cheeseburgers and fries at a quick, efficient pace. On this day almost sixty years ago, the long march to the decline and death of American society began.

Since the earliest days of civilization, a key component of developed life has been the common eating ground, the cafeteria, the agora, the bar, where members of the community went to indulge in good food, good drink, and perhaps most importantly, good talk. Trade and barter deals, philosophical debate, local gossip, all were discussed over meals at restaurants. Food was served as it was prepared, not rushed or hurried, allowing for the most time to speak and allow bridges to be built. Communities and civilizations have been fostered and built upon the rapport built during dinner.

In 1948, McDonald's changed all that. The high demand for food at a rapid pace induced the McDonald brothers to develop their rapid transit food delivery system, effectively inventing the fast food industry. The need for meals to churned out at rapid pace eliminated any possibility for anything other than shoveling food into your face in order to get out of the way for the guy who wanted your seat. McDonald's created the first schematic within the American psyche of rushing, of doing every task as quickly and efficiently as possible. After all, time is money. You had to be able to eat and finish your lunch in fifteen minutes, because you needed to be back at the office or factory within 5 minutes, because you needed to devote the other seven hours and forty minutes to working. If you spent any more time indulging in a leisurely meal, the guy behind you might finish eating quicker and steal your job and paycheck.

The multiplicative effect carried out through the entire culture, and what resulted were broken homes, parents obsessed with latching onto the brass ring, ever inflating demands from employers, and less time to sit down and talk and forge relationships and grow to understand about our neighbors. At this point in time, Americans trust their neighbors less than any other time previously in American history. When we hardly get the opportunity to speak to them, is this fact really so shocking?

Things I dislike: Armani Exchange

2006-12-23T01:15:00.000-05:00

Now don't get me wrong. I think some of the stuff from Armani Exchange isn't too bad looking. I would wear some of it. There are just a couple reasons why I dislike seeing Armani Exchange stuff. First and foremost being, every god damn scum bag between the ages of 17 and 25 who wears anything from Armani Exchange immediately proclaims themselves as the hottest shit to walk the face of the planet earth. "I paid $35 for my t-shirt which has bawdy and crass logos splashed on it, and you should bow down to me because of it." It infuriates me to no end. You aren't hot shit because you paid $35 for a t-shirt, you're a moron who thinks that walking around using your chest as free advertising space makes you attractive, when it doesn't. Clearly. Don't get me wrong, I have paid up to $20 for a t-shirt, but that's it. And if at all possible, I try to keep any logos or annoying statements on my shirts to a minimum.

Second reason why I dislike Armani Exchange: The people who wear Armani Exchange act as thought they're wearing actual Giorgio Armani runway styles. Um, excuse me, you're wearing a label that Armani designed specifically for idiots like you, who use their parent's credit cards to pay for their wardrobe. It's sad and pathetic. Had I not seen every other douche bag at Rutgers wearing an Armani Exchange t-shirt in the last two years, I might be doing the same thing myself. Thankfully, my eyes saved me. I hate to think what would happen if I had fallen into that trap.

Thirdly, and finally, why I dislike Armani Exchange: Everything you can get there, you can get at H&M, and more than likely, at better prices. Blazers that cost $225 at Armani Exchange? Half that price at H&M. Whatever, that's fine, if those guys go to shop at Armani Exchange, then I'll just go to H&M and get whatever shit I want for cheap. Works for me!

Dear god, I've been up for 20 straight hours and I feel dead on my feet.

Aging and dying

2006-12-11T00:00:00.000-05:00

I'm terrified of aging. Confronting the fact that I'm turning another year older sends me into a tail spin. Since I was about 15, I think I've felt this way. I always tend to start having morbid dreams in December, finding creative new ways to die. When I was turning 18, I had a dream that I fell from a building. When I was turning 19, I dreamt a steel spike was drive through my chest. When I turned 20, I saw my head exploding.

I don't know what terrifying dream I have this year. I don't know if this is some sick way of my subconscious telling me I should probably find a girlfriend and have sex, because I might be headed to some really fucked up shit soon. I don't know.

Maybe I should invest in antidepressants or something. Maybe a stress ball. That'd be a good place for you to start for buying me a birthday present.

Scurry

2006-12-09T21:03:00.000-05:00

I'm having those same problems with people again. People not wanting to talk to me, people avoiding me, and generally feeling unwanted and despised. It's really heart wrenching, actually. I feel like I'm drowning alone in the middle of a crowd. I could scream and scream and I don't know if anyone could hear me. It's not depression. It's anxiety. I don't know who to rely on or who to trust or anything. I can't sit in a room and talk to anyone or give my troubles to someone else or anything.

I'm scared. I wish I wasn't.

Baker-Hamilton Report

2006-12-09T12:20:00.000-05:00

When I listened to the Baker-Hamilton press conference, I really didn't hear anything different from what President Bush has been saying for the last couple of years. It was "Stay the course in Iraq" without using the words "stay the course". A slow withdrawal, Iraq is in shambles, we need to rebuild it. These are things the Bush Administration has been spouting for months.

And you know what? I don't disagree with it. What I've seen, what I've learned, what I've observed, I don't think we can simply drop everything and pull out of Iraq right now. It's suicide. We'd be begging for an assault of terrorist attacks in 20 years. It's simply not a good idea.

My politics aren't either liberal or conservative. And as much as it might bother some to read this, I happen to agree with the President on our current policies in Iraq.

Clarification: I agree with the rhetoric, not the actual policies. I think we need to stay in Iraq so as to avoid a huge tragedy in 20 years.

Things I need help with

2006-12-05T01:02:00.000-05:00

I need someone to explain to me, first of all, how to meet women. And not just meet women, but meet them and not have them be either repelled by me or think of me on platonic terms. And I'm dead serious about this. When it comes to flirting and interpersonal relationships, I think I'm about as successful as a 13 year old with a stuttering problem. To date, I haven't had a girlfriend, and at my current pace, we're looking at me getting a girl to come to bed with me at age 58. Not a very good pace, so someone, please, help me the fuck out.

Secondly, I would appreciate help in figuring out where to learn about new music. Everyone always seems to find out about new bands about 8 months quicker than I do. I need to learn sources and shit. It would be extremely helpful, and keep me from feeling retarded.

Finally, I would like someone to donate money to me so that I could finally go to H&M/Urban/Abercrombie and buy the clothes I like, which would finally let me dress they I've always wanted. I want to be sexy back that my first request can fulfilled. Jack asses.

Stars in the sky

2006-12-02T00:41:00.000-05:00

As far back as I can remember, when I stand outside and look up into the sky at night, the first thing I see is Orion's Belt. Those three stars in a line, endlessly twinkling in the night sky. Immutable, everlasting, for all of eternity.

Pulling back on the focus, my vision encapsulates the entire constellation. Following the path of the stars, I can make out Taurus, Monoceros, Lepus and countless more groupings of stars hanging like jewels in the night.

Drifting in a circle, I can see the moon cascading silver brilliance over the hills and rooftops. Planes soaring high above my head criss cross the sky, rushing points of light. I remember when I used to think that the airplanes were actually stars moving across the skies, imaging how fast they must be flying by in space if they seem to skipping down here.

There isn't anything I love more then watching the night sky.

At the movies

2006-11-25T01:24:00.000-05:00

Today I went to the movies, alone. That's not very unusual for me. It's very clear that I possess a very anti social, avoidant personality. While I outwardly am desperate for attention, innately, subconsciously, I want nothing to do with other people. I'd much rather sit by myself at a meal than try to stumble through awkward conversation with a person who is perhaps a step removed from being a total stranger to me. I'm sure you can tell I'm an absolute joy to sit down and talk to.

While standing on line, alone, at the movies, I saw some people I knew from high school. I caught them coming out of the corner of my eye, and I quickly turned my head down and away from them. I silently thanked that I hadn't shaved in several days, and took out my phone in a self absorbed attempt to look like I was in touch with people already in the movie theater. By some stupid chance, they got in line right behind me. I hear them whisper and giggle to each other, enjoying some private joke. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that I wasn't the butt of some high school anecdote. I shuffled up to the ticket window, purchased my ticket, and hauled ass right out of the lobby.

Walking into the theater, I scanned for a place to sit, with at least one empty seat on either side of where I wanted to sit. Such is the awkward part of going to the movies alone. You don't want to sit directly next to someone, as doing so invades upon the atmosphere of intimacy that movies create. In this world of text messaging in iPods, it has become a social faux pas to speak to a total stranger, to interject yourself into someone's little world. This has seeped into every facet of life to the point where it's impossible to meet new people.

As I tried to find a seat, my eyes latched upon a group of people. This was a group of people who graduated high school with me. I cursed myself under my breath. Of course these people would be here, home for Thanksgiving, bored to tears until they could catch flights back to whatever school they found themselves attending. I quickly found a seat on the end of a row, ducked my head down and tried to make myself as invisible as I possibly could.

I hated high school with every fiber of my being. Every moment I spent in that building was a smothering, suffocating experience. I can hardly recall a handful of pleasant moments I experienced within those four years. And yet, the entire world treats those years with such reverence that I can't help but feel an enormous amount of cognitive dissonance when remembering high school, and actually convincing myself that I in fact loved high school, and missed the same people who made my life miserable, and shaped the bitterness I still feel to this day.

Next time I want to see a movie, I'm going to another state.

Homewrecker

2006-11-25T01:05:00.000-05:00

I seem to have developed a fatal flaw. I only find myself interested in women I know to be in the middle of relationships. Not just flings, but full on relationships. I'm sure if I ever met a married woman, I'd attempt to move the stars in an effort to peel her away from her man. I'm not sure why I've developed such a fruitless and destructive taste. Perhaps it has something to do with longing and jealousy. After all, if these two people can be engaged in such a meaningful, fulfilled relationship, then why can I have that? And like the jealous bully on the playground, I try to wedge myself in the middle of perfectly healthy, happy relationships and try to steal the girl away.

Well, perhaps nothing that dramatic. I'm far too timid to actually take things that far, I think. But I am pretty certain I have ruined some lives. Or maybe not. Maybe I'm giving myself too much credit, and creating illusions in my mind in an effort to quell the dissonance I feel within myself.

Regardless, I'm a bad person.

Speech patterns

2006-11-24T13:56:00.000-05:00

The differences between people and regions are interesting to me. Living in New Jersey, there's such a diverse difference between accents and pronunciations it's stunning. Someone from North Jersey, close to Staten Island, say, sounds nothing like someone from South Jersey, from, say, Millville. It's really just amazing listening to a conversation between people and picking up on the subtle intonations people have as they speak.

But with the television and internet generation, I've been hearing less of these accent differentiations. As more people turn on MTV and CNN, more flat accents with less unique inflections are becoming the norm across the country. I feel it's kind of sad. In such a huge country as ours, it was interesting to hear the unique ways people would say things. Now, everyone is starting to sound and look the same.

I guess that's the price we pay for globalization.

Under developed

2006-11-24T02:12:00.000-05:00

I'm not really sure how I can listen to all of these depressing songs about relationships and whining about life when I really haven't done much of either to qualify as an expert on them. Really, what have I done? I've been in relationships? Um, no, not really. Hell, I haven't even been a victim of a fuck and run. My experience with relationships lies within televised dramas and movie scripts. My knowledge of people and love and life has been taught to me through 15 and 32 inch screens 20 minutes at a time. I really don't know anything about life or love.

Which is pathetic, really. It's yet another area in which my life, my growth, is severely stunted. How can I possibly expect to exist in this world if I'm 5 years behind everybody else? I'm just learning how to flirt and be comfortable in my own skin, something most people learn by the time they're 15. I'm sitting here in awe of abilities most people don't give second thought to. It's tragically debilitating. I'm not sure how to handle it, or how to react to it. Hell, even putting pen to paper stuns me. I can barely comprehend the gibberish I'm putting forth at this moment.

Bad connection.

2006-11-23T22:44:00.000-05:00

There are plenty of things I question on a regular basis. Why don't people keep in touch with me? Am I really that irritating, that grating on people's sensibilities that they will take such tremendous steps to avoid speaking to me? What about my intelligence? I'm sure I possess some. In fact, I know I am. It's been proven, been certified, been made clearly apparent. I'm not a moron. So I can at least keep up a conversation. But I'm not sure. I guess I put people off enough that I'm just not interesting enough to keep a conversation up with. Which should make me sad, except, I find enough people to keep myself occupied with on a moment to moment basis that I can deal with what my situation has become.