Picture this: It's a hot day. I mean really hot. I mean the rays of the sun were predestined to be pressure cooking the asphalt just as I think it's a great idea to throw on a sweater for the day. Soon to follow is a nice tall(BIG) glass of cool water. So cool that if it had on a pair shades I'd deem it Fonzi the Refreshed. Why yes I did just personify my thirst quenching savior. Why are you giving me that look? What is that look you may ask? The one that has disrupted my salivating glands' newest obsession. They aren't that happy with you right now. The one that irks me so much that my skin crawls off my body in search of a more stable/less disastrous environment. People are less likely to feel my wrath there. Rant ensued.
This look that has perturbed me is one that throws off my entire mood. It's a look described as one of uncertainty that I most often mistake for one of snootiness or scoffing. It's a look that I will blend with nails and force feed it back to you on the rocks with a bendy straw. So yes this scoffing uncertain look of snoot drives me wild. Why you may ask? Why?? Because that glass of water is half-empty. Half fucking empty and it's only evaporating; dissipating at the expense of my overall happiness. Weren't expecting that now were you? Don't worry I'm not ranting about being negative. That shit happens all the time, but I usually overcome it instantly. I compare this glass of water to that look you just gave me. No matter what reason you give me, as in "I'm too tired, I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry." Sorry doesn't cut it. I've already made a million judgments about you. Not to come to the conclusion that I think I'm better than you. No, that's immature and unnecessary. These judgments are one's of always thinking you'll be "sorry". Bump that. I'll just think you're a sorry person. Forever. Even when pigs fly. You're a pig. There, who's mature now.
I'm not sorry for the rambling. Trust me. I've just accepted that I'm angry sometimes. People make me angry. Therefore, the true cynic in me peeks out ready to play. This post may bring down the mood of the entire blog so far. I've made this statement before, but hell I just want to vent. Be prepared for a hellstorm of thoughts. Commence.
If you come at me with hopes or dreams or even a hint of an aspiration I'll hold that thought, toss it around, squeeze it like putty, and then mold it into what I think is realistic. You won't get a genuine congratulatory hug from me. I'll pat your back. Say "good job champ", when I really mean "Great job not sucking and contributing to society without killing someone". You're welcome. I've twisted and wrung out quite a bit of friendships with this thought process. They're still my friends, but they won't jump at an opportunity to hang out with me. I've deemed them unworthy of my time. Of course, the vice-versa rears its ugly forehead. I thought over the past few months that it's just me being a realist. Staying sane and not letting my head escape me. It's not floating away on my watch. Let's just say dreams don't stay as often as I'd like them to.
I've diverted from a life of dreaming and arrived at one filled with grays and scowling lips. Just entering college I had all the dreams in the world. I dreamed of so many possibilities. They were infinite. I had no plan prepared. I didn't care. Any time someone tried to pop my hot air dream balloon I just dreamed and inflated to rise my hopes and aspirations even higher. Now I have a "plan". This means I'm conducting research to follow a path I'm passionate about that I'm paying for with a handful of hopes, a smidge of maybes, and quite a dapple of "I don't knows". I'm scared as hell, but it's what I want and need. It's not every time in life that you come across a time when these occur at the same time. I'm trekking across half the U.S. in order to start over, while my friends stay behind still trying to figure things out. We're 22-23 year old kids. We're allowed to. Some could say I'm running to a new life of excitement. Some could say I'm running away from the mundane and routine. The others(ME) could say I'm running away from loves lost. For a guy who got the crash course in the area of intimacy and lack thereof entering college, I'm emotionally exhausted. Friends ask why I don't date more. My response is true."Ain't nobody got time for that".
The thing is I don't have time to get swallowed by another in a committed agreement to be nice and loving to one another. When I fall I fall hard. If I spend all of my time falling, how do I ever expect to rise up like phoenix? This is where my cynicism comes into play. These women are beautiful, brainy, busty, and did I say beautiful? Damn near more beautiful than sunrises. I automatically write them off not being good enough for me. The realization that I've come to is that I'm not even good for myself. I'm not in detest of me. I wouldn't date me at the moment. I have nothing figured out. I'm Ben from The Graduate. People keep asking me what I'm doing. "HELLO!! NO FUCKING CLUE!" I just don't want to know for once and be happy. Yes yes I know I need to figure out some sort of strategy for my life. Not there yet. I'm still learning the rules. Pardon me if I haven't mastered the art of living. Kudos to those who have. I condone your experiences and ideas. You have my appreciation. Snaps!
Usually I end these posts with some sort of self-realization. Not this time. This is mistake number 16 on my way to success. Consider this one on repeat. I'm tired. Not just from being up till 2:45am. I'm tired from being tired of my situation. Time to shake and bake on some potential moves.
You can't catch me now. I found my dream cloud.
Rev Out.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Mistake #15: The Finale
“Television characters live inside our minds as though they're actual people. In fact, we know more about them than we do about most people in our physical lives.”
― Neal Pollack
Warning! Corny line approaching,,,Lights, Camera, Action! Yes the blog-master is back with some more mind-blowing wisdom on what most of you will find useless...until you grow the bloody hell up and deem it worthy you wandering ne'er-do-wells!
FADE IN
INT. BEDROOM-EVENING
It's a dark(duh), stormless night and you're all alone. So alone you decide to watch your favorite re-run of your favorite TV show of all time: The Finale. No not the season finale. Not the summer finale either. You've taken it upon yourself to watch the most watched episode of all time. Now you begin to tear-up as you witness all of your favorite characters, who you've come to love and adore, venture in new directions in their lives as they leave you behind. Yes they did this to you. They held your heart in their hands and clinched together their fists with the sheerest of optimism and grace. You see they let you down easy. They reasoned with you that is was what was best for them so that they could be happy and progress. FUCK THAT. They never had your feelings in mind. I mean you practically live with these people day in and day out. You hang out with them at the bar or coffee shop. They even bring you to work with them, even when they aren't obligated to participate in some company-held holiday to showcase the glory of their jobs to impress you. Yeah that's right they bring you in on the bad days, he rainy days, the days when the air conditioner is on all types of drugs. They even bring you in on the day when all hell breaks loose and the company is bankrupt. This is where we hold them close and shower them with warmth. Then they just leave. They leave with what they think is a loving, well-delivered good-bye. It's not loving. It's the dagger in the heart. The mushroom cloud of loneliness.
Mistake. You, the audience, made the mistake of letting yourself love another. Yeah that's right. I'm catapulting this blame square between your eyes. You chose to tune in to see what kind of petty drama occurs every week on a freaking creek or in a generic high school filled with dysfunctional youths at the peak of awkwardness. You opened your heart, and in Jim and Pam came with their quirky, lovable relationship and set up a home. They built that home with intentions to stay. What do you get in return? They give you a relationship you fawn after with the utmost jealousy and optimism of having. Seems a little unfair to me right? Selfish bastards. I love you.
A lot of us don't realize that we are capable of love until we are hurt by a truly genuine, passionate relationship...experienced by our most loved TV stars. We also realize we are capable of hurt as well. Immense loads of it. Ouch. Ouchiest of ouches Ross and Rachel. It wasn't a real break. I hate you so much. Your relationship means everything to me.
It's a tragic mistake we commit season after season. We become attached. We model ourselves after these characters in hopes people will like us better. They don't like you better. Unless they love the show as well. Then they love you most. We live so vicariously through these characters that we forget our own reality some times. We begin to forget that Central Perk doesn't exist. Or that middle rate paper companies stand a fighting chance against the processed timber vendor juggernauts. We remove ourselves from reality. My humble opinion: remove yourself to wherever you damn well please. The world we live in now is going down in flames as we speak. You might as well throw yourself into Wisconsin and hang out in the basement with the best 360 crew around. You can't beat it.
Plus, in this world you may never get a boss like Michael Scott, or a friend like Barney, or have a completely OCD neurotic detective with phobias up the wazoo solving your cases. You'd be lost. Completely. You'd be a miserable Amish person. Don't care if it offends them. It'd take them light-years to make it here by horse buggy. Prehistory never survives!
I bet what all the "normal" people aren't expecting out you is the art of surprise. They don't think you'll flabbergast them with a witty line or joke that'll keep them laughing until their spleens shatter. They think you've submersed yourself so much into a different reality that you can't comprehend daily routines of the "normies". Hint hint normies: TV is based off of what we have and lack in the real world. Open your brains. Close your minds. Please for dead Jesus's sake, don't ever watch Preacher's Wives. You'll thank me now and save yourself the disappointment for humanity. I already have plenty from daily encounters.
This world sucks. It sucks something awful's awful. The worst of awful. Yet, through some small peeping hole in the clouds, shines the brilliance of TV writers as the ol' cathode ray tube fires up for another round of 7th Heaven drama and heartache. They know what we like. You know why? They happen to be people with wants and angst geared towards reality. They deserve a Nobel Peace Prize. If people didn't plop in front of their media-streaming device, they would be out murdering people, duh.
CUT TO:
We conclude here. We conclude with a thought of ho much we hate when series end, but love them for the effect they have bestowed upon our lives. By effect, I of course mean purpose. They give us something to strive for. Not to copy, may I add. But to unwillingly aspire to have a completely unpredictable, heartbreaking, passionate affair that catalyzes us to come alive. Remember you determine when the finale happens. There's always room for a new pilot. Hell you might even find your own Jim or Pam. Just please please I reiterate to you: don't be Toby. I fucking hate Toby.
If TV doesn't work out for you sad, sad, saps...READ MORE BOOKS. I hear Fitzgerald writes good words.
FADE OUT
FIN
Yours truly,
Blog Master Flex
― Neal Pollack
Warning! Corny line approaching,,,Lights, Camera, Action! Yes the blog-master is back with some more mind-blowing wisdom on what most of you will find useless...until you grow the bloody hell up and deem it worthy you wandering ne'er-do-wells!
FADE IN
INT. BEDROOM-EVENING
It's a dark(duh), stormless night and you're all alone. So alone you decide to watch your favorite re-run of your favorite TV show of all time: The Finale. No not the season finale. Not the summer finale either. You've taken it upon yourself to watch the most watched episode of all time. Now you begin to tear-up as you witness all of your favorite characters, who you've come to love and adore, venture in new directions in their lives as they leave you behind. Yes they did this to you. They held your heart in their hands and clinched together their fists with the sheerest of optimism and grace. You see they let you down easy. They reasoned with you that is was what was best for them so that they could be happy and progress. FUCK THAT. They never had your feelings in mind. I mean you practically live with these people day in and day out. You hang out with them at the bar or coffee shop. They even bring you to work with them, even when they aren't obligated to participate in some company-held holiday to showcase the glory of their jobs to impress you. Yeah that's right they bring you in on the bad days, he rainy days, the days when the air conditioner is on all types of drugs. They even bring you in on the day when all hell breaks loose and the company is bankrupt. This is where we hold them close and shower them with warmth. Then they just leave. They leave with what they think is a loving, well-delivered good-bye. It's not loving. It's the dagger in the heart. The mushroom cloud of loneliness.
Mistake. You, the audience, made the mistake of letting yourself love another. Yeah that's right. I'm catapulting this blame square between your eyes. You chose to tune in to see what kind of petty drama occurs every week on a freaking creek or in a generic high school filled with dysfunctional youths at the peak of awkwardness. You opened your heart, and in Jim and Pam came with their quirky, lovable relationship and set up a home. They built that home with intentions to stay. What do you get in return? They give you a relationship you fawn after with the utmost jealousy and optimism of having. Seems a little unfair to me right? Selfish bastards. I love you.
A lot of us don't realize that we are capable of love until we are hurt by a truly genuine, passionate relationship...experienced by our most loved TV stars. We also realize we are capable of hurt as well. Immense loads of it. Ouch. Ouchiest of ouches Ross and Rachel. It wasn't a real break. I hate you so much. Your relationship means everything to me.
It's a tragic mistake we commit season after season. We become attached. We model ourselves after these characters in hopes people will like us better. They don't like you better. Unless they love the show as well. Then they love you most. We live so vicariously through these characters that we forget our own reality some times. We begin to forget that Central Perk doesn't exist. Or that middle rate paper companies stand a fighting chance against the processed timber vendor juggernauts. We remove ourselves from reality. My humble opinion: remove yourself to wherever you damn well please. The world we live in now is going down in flames as we speak. You might as well throw yourself into Wisconsin and hang out in the basement with the best 360 crew around. You can't beat it.
Plus, in this world you may never get a boss like Michael Scott, or a friend like Barney, or have a completely OCD neurotic detective with phobias up the wazoo solving your cases. You'd be lost. Completely. You'd be a miserable Amish person. Don't care if it offends them. It'd take them light-years to make it here by horse buggy. Prehistory never survives!
I bet what all the "normal" people aren't expecting out you is the art of surprise. They don't think you'll flabbergast them with a witty line or joke that'll keep them laughing until their spleens shatter. They think you've submersed yourself so much into a different reality that you can't comprehend daily routines of the "normies". Hint hint normies: TV is based off of what we have and lack in the real world. Open your brains. Close your minds. Please for dead Jesus's sake, don't ever watch Preacher's Wives. You'll thank me now and save yourself the disappointment for humanity. I already have plenty from daily encounters.
This world sucks. It sucks something awful's awful. The worst of awful. Yet, through some small peeping hole in the clouds, shines the brilliance of TV writers as the ol' cathode ray tube fires up for another round of 7th Heaven drama and heartache. They know what we like. You know why? They happen to be people with wants and angst geared towards reality. They deserve a Nobel Peace Prize. If people didn't plop in front of their media-streaming device, they would be out murdering people, duh.
CUT TO:
We conclude here. We conclude with a thought of ho much we hate when series end, but love them for the effect they have bestowed upon our lives. By effect, I of course mean purpose. They give us something to strive for. Not to copy, may I add. But to unwillingly aspire to have a completely unpredictable, heartbreaking, passionate affair that catalyzes us to come alive. Remember you determine when the finale happens. There's always room for a new pilot. Hell you might even find your own Jim or Pam. Just please please I reiterate to you: don't be Toby. I fucking hate Toby.
If TV doesn't work out for you sad, sad, saps...READ MORE BOOKS. I hear Fitzgerald writes good words.
FADE OUT
FIN
Yours truly,
Blog Master Flex
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Mistake #14: Weddings
"One should always be in love; that is the reason one should never marry."
-Oscar Wilde
It's a room packed full of blood and future relatives. All gathering for that moment. That moment when a man and women outfitted in fanciful formal attire are locked in a trance with each other. They wait patiently to spend the rest of their lives together. It only take two words. Two words to seal a milestone for a hopeful romance. End result: she said yes. Suckers.
You see with all of the glamour and tears to follow people think this is a great occasion demanding a celebration of family proportions. They are delusionally mislead. These events require you to be around your distant relatives. So distant that they only show up for weddings and funerals. The nerve they have. Of course you can't forget about all of the tension building up. Holy Jesus on the cross is that an understatement. Everyone is just waiting for that elephant in the room to be brought up in order to surface all of the suppressed anger and resentment we all have for one another. Joyous.
One also can't forget the god-awful amounts of planning that go into this. By planning I mean women take the control and mean pick things up and put them down. A disclaimer was bestowed upon them that their lives were at stake. Not kidding. Those are the most gruesome of gruesomest of deaths. <---True Story Bro.
These weddings are just a celebration of two people who want to spend the rest of their lives together. All this money spent to just say "I do". I do what? I do promise to agree to a pre-nup? Kids? Mortgage? Sounds like I do is a prison sentence.
Okay okay I'm done with the charade now. Pardon the language. I fuckin love weddings. All that jibberish I mentioned before is just my inner cynic. Who knows? I might be shedding that calloused skin I've known for too long. Wrong tangent here. Weddings are the best. Free food, free booze, free dancing, and free hearts. You get to watch people take the plunge and profess their most passionate feelings for each other. You can't beat that courage. They deserve a Medal of Honor for that. Word.
I actually love seeing all those random relatives. Awkward conversations are always best at weddings. Boom easy topic of discussion. Did I mention the free booze by the way? Don't worry I kept my cool, but I enjoyed the hell out of a free bar.
As jaded as I am from past flames, I still hope for a beautiful dame that I honestly won't deserve. But let the future take it's course. I want to deserve that moment.
Oscar Wilde. As much as I fawn over your inspirational writing, you're are one mistaken individual. Go on roll in your grave. Reverend don't care. Love didn't treat you right. You can be in love and not marry, true story. Marriage is the age old tradition of the final level of commitment before an unforgettable journey.
So all of you dreamers and lovers out there: join your wants and needs and settle for greatness and passion. Settle for the life you want instead of the one people think you want. Love on, Live on, Dream on.
Peace and blessins,
-Rev.
-Oscar Wilde
It's a room packed full of blood and future relatives. All gathering for that moment. That moment when a man and women outfitted in fanciful formal attire are locked in a trance with each other. They wait patiently to spend the rest of their lives together. It only take two words. Two words to seal a milestone for a hopeful romance. End result: she said yes. Suckers.
You see with all of the glamour and tears to follow people think this is a great occasion demanding a celebration of family proportions. They are delusionally mislead. These events require you to be around your distant relatives. So distant that they only show up for weddings and funerals. The nerve they have. Of course you can't forget about all of the tension building up. Holy Jesus on the cross is that an understatement. Everyone is just waiting for that elephant in the room to be brought up in order to surface all of the suppressed anger and resentment we all have for one another. Joyous.
One also can't forget the god-awful amounts of planning that go into this. By planning I mean women take the control and mean pick things up and put them down. A disclaimer was bestowed upon them that their lives were at stake. Not kidding. Those are the most gruesome of gruesomest of deaths. <---True Story Bro.
These weddings are just a celebration of two people who want to spend the rest of their lives together. All this money spent to just say "I do". I do what? I do promise to agree to a pre-nup? Kids? Mortgage? Sounds like I do is a prison sentence.
Okay okay I'm done with the charade now. Pardon the language. I fuckin love weddings. All that jibberish I mentioned before is just my inner cynic. Who knows? I might be shedding that calloused skin I've known for too long. Wrong tangent here. Weddings are the best. Free food, free booze, free dancing, and free hearts. You get to watch people take the plunge and profess their most passionate feelings for each other. You can't beat that courage. They deserve a Medal of Honor for that. Word.
I actually love seeing all those random relatives. Awkward conversations are always best at weddings. Boom easy topic of discussion. Did I mention the free booze by the way? Don't worry I kept my cool, but I enjoyed the hell out of a free bar.
As jaded as I am from past flames, I still hope for a beautiful dame that I honestly won't deserve. But let the future take it's course. I want to deserve that moment.
Oscar Wilde. As much as I fawn over your inspirational writing, you're are one mistaken individual. Go on roll in your grave. Reverend don't care. Love didn't treat you right. You can be in love and not marry, true story. Marriage is the age old tradition of the final level of commitment before an unforgettable journey.
So all of you dreamers and lovers out there: join your wants and needs and settle for greatness and passion. Settle for the life you want instead of the one people think you want. Love on, Live on, Dream on.
Peace and blessins,
-Rev.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Mistake #13: Sleeping on Sleeping
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!
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!
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.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Mistake #10: Experience
"Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes." -Oscar Wilde
The above quote is true. It's not true because I told you. Or because a book tells you. Or even if Albert Einstein's dead corpse told it to you. It is true because it is repetition. And if something happens repeatedly then it's true right? Don't answer that question. It's rhetorical. Don't waste your time thinking about me asking you the question as I type this prolonged, probably mistake-filled sentence that you won't stop reading until there is a period which I probably will add eventually, wait for it, okay there it is.
That was completely unnecessary, except for everything that preceded that rant about rhetorical questions. The main point that I'm getting at for this post is how horrible of a mistake it is to have experience. Oscar Wilde said it himself. Our experience is a title given to our mistakes. No one wakes up and blurts out "Hell I'm gonna make some mistakes today, and I'm proud. World get ready!" Hell no is right. That's a scary mixture of Elle Wood's determination and Paris Hilton's lack of common sense. (BTW Paris you're welcome for the shout out). Why should we experience things? Why should we strap on our clean boots just to muddy them all up? Again rhetorical, only because I have the answer.
The answer is simple. Your clean boots get dirty just so you know how to get/keep them clean again. Just like everyone before you has done as well as the people that will come after you. It's the same thing with life you sad sap suckers. The only way you know how to most things is by how not to do them. Whether it's passed down advice or trial and error, mistakes fill our days. That's the whole purpose for this blasted blog. I'm done explaining myself, however. I don't owe anyone an explanation for my thoughts, I hand them out because they are free and valuable. Like your life. Enjoy it dammit!
With all of this jabbing about mistakes and experience, one(you) must determine when to leave something a mistake a mistake, or decide that the mistake deserves your attention, time, and effort. Leaving something as a mistake can make your days tiresome and frustrating. There's a reason for that. Reason being that you people are absurdly empathic. You care too much about too little. When you forget to get that oil change or study or respond to a friend, those are mistakes. You dwell too long on these and they cloud your mind, restricting air flow inadvertently causing you to die. Done life over. The formula to leave these as mistakes is simple. Do the opposite and your life will be more exciting. The opposite is described as apathy. Ah APATHY, you're capitalized because you are so important. Apathy is characterized by the absence of emotion. The less you care the less you hurt. Others around you may suffer, but you must realize the one's that are worth the hurt. Because they truly know you're capable of empathy given the appropriate situations. You'll learn this from a lot of my writing. Apathy isn't a crutch, it's a vice. It gets me through my days and helps me sleep at night. I wake up with it and share it with others. I'm very realistic in that I don't care about things that don't need to be cared about. Like people who cry over spilled coffee. It's just coffee you cretins. There's always more. It's on its way. Chill out. Take a few minutes. Read my other blog posts. Boom coffee is ready. You go on your merry way in hopes your day doesn't swallow you whole. God bless your heart you self-indulgent sycophants. Whew. Second rant done. Now lets continue...
As you can can tell sometimes too much apathy can lead to empathy in a roundabout way. Mistakes are mistakes. You learn from them or you don't. Issue done and over with. Now learning from mistakes, with all experiences considering, is a much more challenging task. You actually have to put forth effort...You know that thing that takes so much will power that you procrastinate the procrastination process of attempting effort. This is the make or break point. Because once you commit at all to learning you're either going to fail or pass. And truth be told I can't tell you how to learn from those mistakes. All I can say is learn the most helpful way that you can. If you fail, you fail. No worries. You try the opposite and see if it works, then a variation or something of that matter. All in all you gotta try something new. You don't want to be a repeat offender of the same mistake. However, it's more than acceptable to be a repeat trier. Which, in turn, becomes repeat success.
As you have been reading my rant I hope at least a few of the key points got across that short attention span of yours. They are as follows: Make mistakes. Live your experiences. Learn from the mistakes you made so they may pave a way for your new experiences. You're either going to learn the right way or wrong how to do something after you have made the mistake. So do yourself a favor a make a mistake.
As Oscar Wilde mentioned in the beginning of the bumbling cornucopia of profoundness, our mistakes are our experiences. We can't just dwell on the good to keep us going. We have to focus on what we're not in order to arrive at who we want to become.
Now I know this post may have veered off of the traditional path of my previous posts, but I'm not sorry. Life changes as do my words and moods. Get used to it. I'm just glad you made it this far in my series of self-realizations.
So to cap the blog off...dream dreams that are challenging, but approach those dreams in such a way that reality is only a heart beat away.
Be true. Be blue. Don't miss your cue.
Future Famous Writer Of Words is peaced out.
The above quote is true. It's not true because I told you. Or because a book tells you. Or even if Albert Einstein's dead corpse told it to you. It is true because it is repetition. And if something happens repeatedly then it's true right? Don't answer that question. It's rhetorical. Don't waste your time thinking about me asking you the question as I type this prolonged, probably mistake-filled sentence that you won't stop reading until there is a period which I probably will add eventually, wait for it, okay there it is.
That was completely unnecessary, except for everything that preceded that rant about rhetorical questions. The main point that I'm getting at for this post is how horrible of a mistake it is to have experience. Oscar Wilde said it himself. Our experience is a title given to our mistakes. No one wakes up and blurts out "Hell I'm gonna make some mistakes today, and I'm proud. World get ready!" Hell no is right. That's a scary mixture of Elle Wood's determination and Paris Hilton's lack of common sense. (BTW Paris you're welcome for the shout out). Why should we experience things? Why should we strap on our clean boots just to muddy them all up? Again rhetorical, only because I have the answer.
The answer is simple. Your clean boots get dirty just so you know how to get/keep them clean again. Just like everyone before you has done as well as the people that will come after you. It's the same thing with life you sad sap suckers. The only way you know how to most things is by how not to do them. Whether it's passed down advice or trial and error, mistakes fill our days. That's the whole purpose for this blasted blog. I'm done explaining myself, however. I don't owe anyone an explanation for my thoughts, I hand them out because they are free and valuable. Like your life. Enjoy it dammit!
With all of this jabbing about mistakes and experience, one(you) must determine when to leave something a mistake a mistake, or decide that the mistake deserves your attention, time, and effort. Leaving something as a mistake can make your days tiresome and frustrating. There's a reason for that. Reason being that you people are absurdly empathic. You care too much about too little. When you forget to get that oil change or study or respond to a friend, those are mistakes. You dwell too long on these and they cloud your mind, restricting air flow inadvertently causing you to die. Done life over. The formula to leave these as mistakes is simple. Do the opposite and your life will be more exciting. The opposite is described as apathy. Ah APATHY, you're capitalized because you are so important. Apathy is characterized by the absence of emotion. The less you care the less you hurt. Others around you may suffer, but you must realize the one's that are worth the hurt. Because they truly know you're capable of empathy given the appropriate situations. You'll learn this from a lot of my writing. Apathy isn't a crutch, it's a vice. It gets me through my days and helps me sleep at night. I wake up with it and share it with others. I'm very realistic in that I don't care about things that don't need to be cared about. Like people who cry over spilled coffee. It's just coffee you cretins. There's always more. It's on its way. Chill out. Take a few minutes. Read my other blog posts. Boom coffee is ready. You go on your merry way in hopes your day doesn't swallow you whole. God bless your heart you self-indulgent sycophants. Whew. Second rant done. Now lets continue...
As you can can tell sometimes too much apathy can lead to empathy in a roundabout way. Mistakes are mistakes. You learn from them or you don't. Issue done and over with. Now learning from mistakes, with all experiences considering, is a much more challenging task. You actually have to put forth effort...You know that thing that takes so much will power that you procrastinate the procrastination process of attempting effort. This is the make or break point. Because once you commit at all to learning you're either going to fail or pass. And truth be told I can't tell you how to learn from those mistakes. All I can say is learn the most helpful way that you can. If you fail, you fail. No worries. You try the opposite and see if it works, then a variation or something of that matter. All in all you gotta try something new. You don't want to be a repeat offender of the same mistake. However, it's more than acceptable to be a repeat trier. Which, in turn, becomes repeat success.
As you have been reading my rant I hope at least a few of the key points got across that short attention span of yours. They are as follows: Make mistakes. Live your experiences. Learn from the mistakes you made so they may pave a way for your new experiences. You're either going to learn the right way or wrong how to do something after you have made the mistake. So do yourself a favor a make a mistake.
As Oscar Wilde mentioned in the beginning of the bumbling cornucopia of profoundness, our mistakes are our experiences. We can't just dwell on the good to keep us going. We have to focus on what we're not in order to arrive at who we want to become.
Now I know this post may have veered off of the traditional path of my previous posts, but I'm not sorry. Life changes as do my words and moods. Get used to it. I'm just glad you made it this far in my series of self-realizations.
So to cap the blog off...dream dreams that are challenging, but approach those dreams in such a way that reality is only a heart beat away.
Be true. Be blue. Don't miss your cue.
Future Famous Writer Of Words is peaced out.
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