It's 4:30 in the mornin. I should be snorin, but that would get kind of borin. So now I'm writing this blog about being Mormon.
Okay just joshing about that last line. However, I am awake at 4:30 in the AM. It's not weird for Wednesdays seeing as how I work at 5AM. You see you can probably tell from my little diddy above that I indeed all nighted yesterday.
This isn't my typical all-nighter. I'm usually strung out on caffeine or I'm fighting my eyelids gallantly to stay awake. I'm wide awake right now. Peepers open and ready for seeing. Brain is all go for today's survival. Also my heart is palpitating somewhat normally so I'll take that as a win. I'm completely proud of myself for being alive, yet productive...hint: I'm writing this blog with my mind at ease.
Usually people(me) start using this time to deeply think why they aren't sleeping. Or all the failures they've had that led to this lack of sleep. That's not me today. I'm happy I'm awake. I got things done. So there, take that society. I just contributed and will now have meaning in my day. Didn't expect that now did you? You bloody wanka.
This is not some critical tirade of how I'm ultimately superior to those not being awake right now. I usually am. I guess I've thought of myself as some sort of model of productivity to look up to since I work this early then go to school. Nope moving at there. I'm not saying I'm a changed man now, but I am thinking differently a little bit.
The whole different thinking taking place here is my being "nice" now. In my posts a while ago I rambled about how being an asshole is okay and not okay. You know, use in moderation or no one will like you kind of thing. Nice is nice. It's affecting my mood. I'm filtering myself better. A LOT better. I want to do things for people. I want to think of them first. I believe for some unbeknownst reason that people like other people who think this way. What kind of self-glorified scholar uses the word 'unbeknownst' anyways? Pretentious much.
I'm not deleterious yet...I don't think. But seriously, Nice really does feel nice. I feel like if Hitler or John Wilkes Boothe were nice more often that not as many people would hate them. I don't care who you are or what power trip you're on. Being hated is depressing. Being liked is fulfilling. Of course use that in moderation as well.. With the repetitive use of moderation you should probably expect a future soon-to-be post about it. And dagnabbit won't it be good.
Coffee cabana is calling my name. I like it. I feel needed. Don't worry I'll get over the whole being liked thing. Don't get me wrong though, I probably won't. I don't like Hitler so I will be nice and liked more often now. Reasonable logic right?
I'll take more precautions(DON'T PROCRASTINATE) from now on to avoid the sleeping on sleeping. Bless your days with niceness.
Two days and counting without being and asshole. God help me and those I encounter today. It shall get weird.
Jet Setting,
Deprivation is only the first step. Next comes the fun. Peace!
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Mistake #12: A Wise Man's Ass
It's a bright sunny day in the wonderful, yet ignorant world of a beautiful child. They don't know anything bad, only bliss. There's a cute little girl from Ms. Furnish's 1st grade class playing near the monkey bars. She's leaning next to a pole by herself just looking up at the clouds as the hands of free time tick away until the soon to be coveted nap time announces it's presence. She just stands there watching some of the other kids play four square on the blacktop, holding on to that glimpse of hope that one of them will call her over to play. Then, of course, another handsome little lad wanders her way. As he approaches, thoughts race around this young girls brain. There's a Daytona 500 in full effect in there. "Why's he coming over here? Why do I care that he's coming over here? I want to know what he wants to know about me? I hope he likes flowers and pink." Thoughts are at 200 mph with no signs of slowing. "Do I smell? Do I smell good? Oh gosh he's getting closer. Stop talking in your head. He's here. Now, words. You know some. Initiate voice box for lift off...and action." The boy arrives all in his pre-pre-pre pubescent glory. He swoops up. Inches near. A wide grin reaches across her face. And then without a moment's hesitation...THUD! A swift kick to the shin results in a bruised fibula and a broken heart from an early age. This seems like the beginning of a damaged girl.Woes you can only expect. But...this story is about that boy. That's me. I'm that asshole.
I know I know, you were all caught up in the moment with the little girl and her hopes of having friends, her first crush, and her first shot at happiness. I'm sorry, well not really, but it's about time someone focused on the asshole. The unfiltered, unadulterated, uncoordinated, unconventional. unequivocal, unbelievable asshole. That is me now. Present Kyle. I have noticed trends in my life that lead me to firmly believe that I am the utmost of assholes. I bleed apathy through and through.
Now hopefully I haven't lost you here. The previous posts that you've read have revealed me me to be an optimistic, profound, free-thinker. I have and always will be that way. Just because I think doesn't mean that I don't think honest, some call them mean, things. There just comes a point in every man, woman, and man-woman's life that they come to the realization that they are the world's most ruthless asshole aside from Kim Jong-Il. The realization plants its roots at such an early age that if we caught it early enough we would have a world full of more honest people. Again my version of honesty has been interpreted by many of my peers as assholery. Honestly, no fucks are given in that realm of giving a fuck.
You see...present Kyle is far from pre-present Kyle in the area of sympathy towards others' feelings and problems. I used to be a romantic, considerate, and completely naive human being. Those are all nice traits to have, but scars change a person. Not necessarily the look of them, but more so the moments that led to those permanent scars. I evolved into this walking cynic I am today in the blink of an eye. I don't regret it.
Anyways, this isn't a discussion about my personal life. This is more of a talk about how it's okay to be that asshole, and of course how it's not. Real life tip #1: You can't be a push over. You will not survive. You will just become a conversation starter when your superiors are guffawing over your inadequacies while sipping mai-thais at hotel bar. In this instance it's okay to be an asshole. Really it just means to stand up for yourself, or people will trample over you in their $300 loafers. That's the mentality I've come to learn quite easily. Blame an ignorant tyrant of a boss and an ex-girlfriend/former first love, yeah you get the idea. You will become all the wiser as you learn about moments in life where you should have stood up and let your voice be heard, and it will be heard. You'll also learn about the times where you should sit back and listen. You will learn the latter through mistakes. It's a form of success in a way. You see this blog is starting to make sense. Kudos it only took me twelve posts to do so!
After one's bout of asshole adventures and such, you start to reconnect with the romanticism and compassion your morals and beliefs were originally based on. By all means am I not saying that this is a simple endeavor. It'll be tough as nails. You'll probably cry a few times. Readjust all of your beliefs while still searching for a viable career to suit your love of life. It's a process. Processes take time. Just like waiting on the microwave to finish. But don't worry you will end up with your "fully cooked" packaged product.
Some final thoughts: Don't Be An Asshole! It's gross and is never clean. Don't be that person.
Stay fresh. Stay clean. Repeat.
There's an asshole among us.
I know I know, you were all caught up in the moment with the little girl and her hopes of having friends, her first crush, and her first shot at happiness. I'm sorry, well not really, but it's about time someone focused on the asshole. The unfiltered, unadulterated, uncoordinated, unconventional. unequivocal, unbelievable asshole. That is me now. Present Kyle. I have noticed trends in my life that lead me to firmly believe that I am the utmost of assholes. I bleed apathy through and through.
Now hopefully I haven't lost you here. The previous posts that you've read have revealed me me to be an optimistic, profound, free-thinker. I have and always will be that way. Just because I think doesn't mean that I don't think honest, some call them mean, things. There just comes a point in every man, woman, and man-woman's life that they come to the realization that they are the world's most ruthless asshole aside from Kim Jong-Il. The realization plants its roots at such an early age that if we caught it early enough we would have a world full of more honest people. Again my version of honesty has been interpreted by many of my peers as assholery. Honestly, no fucks are given in that realm of giving a fuck.
You see...present Kyle is far from pre-present Kyle in the area of sympathy towards others' feelings and problems. I used to be a romantic, considerate, and completely naive human being. Those are all nice traits to have, but scars change a person. Not necessarily the look of them, but more so the moments that led to those permanent scars. I evolved into this walking cynic I am today in the blink of an eye. I don't regret it.
Anyways, this isn't a discussion about my personal life. This is more of a talk about how it's okay to be that asshole, and of course how it's not. Real life tip #1: You can't be a push over. You will not survive. You will just become a conversation starter when your superiors are guffawing over your inadequacies while sipping mai-thais at hotel bar. In this instance it's okay to be an asshole. Really it just means to stand up for yourself, or people will trample over you in their $300 loafers. That's the mentality I've come to learn quite easily. Blame an ignorant tyrant of a boss and an ex-girlfriend/former first love, yeah you get the idea. You will become all the wiser as you learn about moments in life where you should have stood up and let your voice be heard, and it will be heard. You'll also learn about the times where you should sit back and listen. You will learn the latter through mistakes. It's a form of success in a way. You see this blog is starting to make sense. Kudos it only took me twelve posts to do so!
After one's bout of asshole adventures and such, you start to reconnect with the romanticism and compassion your morals and beliefs were originally based on. By all means am I not saying that this is a simple endeavor. It'll be tough as nails. You'll probably cry a few times. Readjust all of your beliefs while still searching for a viable career to suit your love of life. It's a process. Processes take time. Just like waiting on the microwave to finish. But don't worry you will end up with your "fully cooked" packaged product.
Some final thoughts: Don't Be An Asshole! It's gross and is never clean. Don't be that person.
Stay fresh. Stay clean. Repeat.
There's an asshole among us.
Mistake #11: Putting Pen to Paper
Click. Click. Click.Your thumb practices physics as it dances with the end of a ball point pen. Your mighty scepter, as some call it, bridging the thoughts and inklings in your brain to the empty canvas of lined paper, or computer screen in today's age. The most powerful tool that has served society for centuries. The tool that recorded events and speeches for so long. These thoughts flood your mind like monsoon season as you hold the reluctant scepter. Click. Click. Click. "Why can't the words just appear?" You repeat to yourself over and over. "Where's this magical word tree located that all the literary gods before me have harvested their legendary works from?" You begin this philosophical approach to all of life's problems and future one's that you assume will soon follow if you aren't able to guide your sturdy scepter along the vast, undiscovered sheet of paper that you have willingly and voluntarily sat in front of. Your fault. You did it. You sat in front of it, and have taken the responsibility that comes along with it. Your mistake is your problem. Deal with it, or just gouge your eyes out with said scepter, since that's the only purpose it will serve since you're not writing with it. Let the stress flush through your body while you tense up with every passing heart beat. Scared yet? I bet you regret learning how to write now, huh?
Welcome to the mistake of penning thoughts and dreams on to paper. It sucks something awful. Sucks something so putrid you wish you didn't have have a nose. Now that you've done that you can't stop. You have to keep writing those thoughts because you keep forming new ones constantly. "Damn brain, why you work so well?" Now you've reached a point where you feel almost obligated to continue this endeavor. Albeit, it's not an endeavor built on excitement or hope for a gain of knowledge and insight. It's more or less an endeavor of surviving. Not much success going on when you can barely keep your head above water am I right? Wielding these tools of mass construction weighs an abundance of pressure on one's shoulders. You probably know how Atlas feels now. You guys know...the titan who was condemned to an eternity of earth lifting for opposing Zeus. Yeah...think before you try to overthrow a THE Greek God of Everything.
Anyways, with all of this stress mounted on your bones, there's one mindset you have to keep in mind to maintain your sanity: They are just words. Probably the hardest of beliefs to accept as true at an age where words are your career and life for that matter.Whether they are the shittiest of words or the most eloquent of words, they are still a combination of letters with a purpose to describe what one feels about something. A little precocious if you ask me. When faced with this dilemma of words clotting up your pen just give it a little shake and unleash what you really wanna say. If your paper is filled with words that you approve of then kudos to you. If they're complete garbage and deserve to be mangled and reformed in to something meaningful then so be it. Thank the man above that erasers and the backspace key were invented. Had they not...well, that's a whole other blog post right there. Let's not dwell on the unknown.
Life may not come with an eraser or backspace key, but it's a good thing that it's equipped with a pen capable of creating more chapters worth reading. No matter the chapters one encounters, the story doesn't end until you say so. So have a say. Make it LOUD. HEARD. READ. Do what you can to make that mistake of putting pen to paper worth reading. People may enjoy reading about various conflicts, but they love the hell out of reading a great ending. So live your own ending.
This situation is one of the only where a sequel is not frowned upon. I repeat: Do not make bloody sequels to movies that serve no purpose to better humanity. Case in point Transformers should not have even made it to a franchise. Just saying.
Meanwhile on the blog of mistakes. I've stated my peace about stresses, fears, loathings, and optimisms of inking your feelings on paper. So do something worth writing about. Actually write it. Maybe it'll be so scandalous people will pay you to write more. But hell who am I kidding? I'm only a college kid who dreams of succeeding by unleashing my mistakes on the world.
Pens wielded: check. Blank, promising canvas: check. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
Prosperity is only a click away.
Till tomorrow's tomorrow,
Six Pens None the Richer.
Welcome to the mistake of penning thoughts and dreams on to paper. It sucks something awful. Sucks something so putrid you wish you didn't have have a nose. Now that you've done that you can't stop. You have to keep writing those thoughts because you keep forming new ones constantly. "Damn brain, why you work so well?" Now you've reached a point where you feel almost obligated to continue this endeavor. Albeit, it's not an endeavor built on excitement or hope for a gain of knowledge and insight. It's more or less an endeavor of surviving. Not much success going on when you can barely keep your head above water am I right? Wielding these tools of mass construction weighs an abundance of pressure on one's shoulders. You probably know how Atlas feels now. You guys know...the titan who was condemned to an eternity of earth lifting for opposing Zeus. Yeah...think before you try to overthrow a THE Greek God of Everything.
Anyways, with all of this stress mounted on your bones, there's one mindset you have to keep in mind to maintain your sanity: They are just words. Probably the hardest of beliefs to accept as true at an age where words are your career and life for that matter.Whether they are the shittiest of words or the most eloquent of words, they are still a combination of letters with a purpose to describe what one feels about something. A little precocious if you ask me. When faced with this dilemma of words clotting up your pen just give it a little shake and unleash what you really wanna say. If your paper is filled with words that you approve of then kudos to you. If they're complete garbage and deserve to be mangled and reformed in to something meaningful then so be it. Thank the man above that erasers and the backspace key were invented. Had they not...well, that's a whole other blog post right there. Let's not dwell on the unknown.
Life may not come with an eraser or backspace key, but it's a good thing that it's equipped with a pen capable of creating more chapters worth reading. No matter the chapters one encounters, the story doesn't end until you say so. So have a say. Make it LOUD. HEARD. READ. Do what you can to make that mistake of putting pen to paper worth reading. People may enjoy reading about various conflicts, but they love the hell out of reading a great ending. So live your own ending.
This situation is one of the only where a sequel is not frowned upon. I repeat: Do not make bloody sequels to movies that serve no purpose to better humanity. Case in point Transformers should not have even made it to a franchise. Just saying.
Meanwhile on the blog of mistakes. I've stated my peace about stresses, fears, loathings, and optimisms of inking your feelings on paper. So do something worth writing about. Actually write it. Maybe it'll be so scandalous people will pay you to write more. But hell who am I kidding? I'm only a college kid who dreams of succeeding by unleashing my mistakes on the world.
Pens wielded: check. Blank, promising canvas: check. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
Prosperity is only a click away.
Till tomorrow's tomorrow,
Six Pens None the Richer.
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