23 March 2009

as my facebook status so immaculately puts it:

i am a shallow jerk of a calculus packet copier moocher who spends money on trivial cheesecake-y things.

it's true. today, whilst driving my humble automobile, i had a revelation about myself and my attitude towards my life as it stands currently, thus opening my eyes a bit more than they already are bulging.

just kidding.

about that eye part, the rest is accurate.

moreover, i am forming a stomach and i HATE IT. it's all this horrible food i'm eating, rich in fatty nutrients (an oxymoron) and etc. this has to change. i must maintain my perfect trim-ness.

i need to get my grades solidified in a's this last week.



i'm slacking big time, but i can't help it!

19 March 2009

my ears are a-ringin'.

i smell of cheap cigarettes and heavy hairspray.
just returned from seeing Cursive tonight. they were oh so good; impeccable, even. they most definitely have a unique sound to them and everything is precise. no sloppiness. i quite enjoyed myself.
i'm drawing a bath at the moment. it's safe to say that i take a bath about every day. it's become a staple when i get home from rehearsal; just soaking for even five minutes proves to erase away the anxieties of the day. until new ones form tomorrow! but that's okay, i embrace it.
tomorrow i'm taking a stroll down the municipal court avenue to prove i got my car inspected and whatnot. i'm missing a three-hour one act clinic for this, i am severely upset in regards to the timing, alas there is not a single thing i can do about it.
as disheartened i am about that, i am super ecstatic about this: i received an immense scholarship for theatre from Southwestern U. this makes payment so much easier; more than likely i will be going to SU. i suppose i have an issue with people opening my mail, because when i got home my dad was waving around the letter from SU and told me the fantastic news; however, i was a bit disgruntled that i didn't benefit from the pleasure of opening it myself.
oh, i'm merely jesting. it doesn't bother me that much.
i think i'm going to be a pig and eat Doritos while i read in the bath. life and its simple pleasures, how wonderful. sometimes i just feel like sitting and stuffing my face with Doritos, not possessing a single care in the world other than the concern of food sliding down my esophagus. why did i capitalize Doritos? i don't know.

MERRY THURSDAY MORNING. wake up, stretch, notice the time, exhale, depart from bed. some people scoot their covers down with their feet, bunching the sheets up. others simply pull back the "flap" on covers as if doggy earing a piece of paper. and some dramatically throw them off.

i'm being lulled to sleep by erlend øye's voice. good night, after i just bade you good morning. i like talking to "you" as if my audience were the entire human population. therefore, you (all) have a good day. good days are appreciated. try not to take them for granted.

please, please, please.

18 March 2009

another impacting list.

the top three things that i think about:

1. space (i think that's self explanatory but...)
where does it spurt and halt? how many galaxies exist in this universe? how insignificant is earth compared to what life source may be out there? HOW DID IT GET HERE? i suppose this brushes as well on the topic of my faith.

2. death (moreso, life after death)
yeah i suppose this, too, is somewhat religion-affiliated.

3. how much good music there's out there in the world, and how ignorant i am of it.
everyday i'm finding new music that enlightens me, and it pisses me off that no matter how extensively i search, i will never find the greater capacity of it.

coincidently, all these deal with book ends. with conclusions (or lack of). with boundaries. everyday of my life i linger about these strange concepts. IT DRIVES ME MAD.

16 March 2009

We are... The Morning Glories!

Perhaps what compels the cyclical 'Homosapien' entity into a pattern of impeccable routine is the implied composition in which engulfs every participant of Mother Nature. As morning glories flaunt their spectrum of petals only when the sky reaches a state of translucent crystal blue, an even more complex species inhabits a channel as well. As John Keates wrote, "Four seasons fill the measure of the year; There are seasons in the mind of man...," humans maintain a sense of homeostasis in regards to their daily physical function and mental state. It is what brings out these regularities that remains unpredictable in every soul.

Now how exactly may this 'circuit of inclination' be interpreted? Loosely or within strict boundaries? That's the beauty of said state of mind! There exists no metaphorical explanation too immaculate in which an interpretation may be based upon. Venturing into the human mind, the standardized emotions of whom classified themselves as staples include happiness, depression, anger, and fear; perhaps mirroring the seasons upon which John writes. Although some psychologists may argue that anger is not an emotion but a conscious state of mind, these quadrilateral pinpoints press forward with proving themselves legitimate. With every individual, the formation of these emotions vary (maybe one experiences anger, then depression, and so on so forth), however it is an undeniable fact of mortal law: EVERYONE GOES THROUGH THEIR OWN CYCLE OF PERTURBATION.

Going hand in hand with John Keate's statement is the collection of poems formally known as Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. Through manipulating the art of personification through nature's actions, Whitman connects Mother Nature's pattern to a whole other dimension. Whitman resided in a time of spiritual awakenings and the Enlightenment; out of which came Transcendentalism, a new approach to a lifestyle. This original method opened eyes and tapped into a more personal--more seclusive desire for well-being, a system untouched in the era. By exemplifying human acts through the course of natural environment, it seemed as though for every opinion there was proof, the raw nitty-gritty evidence for something as trivial as 'Hey! Leaves fall during autumn, perhaps I should cut my hair to coincide with change.'

Whether taking the three-dimensional approach to regarding the psyche or probing the exact rendering, it remains veracious that in the end, humans show no difference from any other life form in this dance of existence; from trees to the stars to the all the way down, rooted in the stable earth as humble morning glories exists an organic tempo--a heartbeat--so to speak, that follows us year after year.

Every breathing creature stuffed with vitality synchronizes itself with one another. "Speak to the earth, and it shall teach thee." There is no force in the act of man that holds superior to the force of nature; learn from it. After all, we are on this earth together.

good morning, glory.

cereal @ 3.

Satisfactory greets only a select group among our species’ existence; satisfactory in which it is appropriately achieved, mind you. All humans strive for excellence, but the common conception of exertion can be imprudently misconstrued among the fogginess of the principle success. To put it bluntly, humans should never cease to raise the bar. Fulfillment should not be reached at a point in your life where efforts drop and comfort takes over. Going hand in hand with Richard Bach’s proclamation: "Here is a test to find whether your mission on earth is finished: if you're alive, it isn't," in order to fully execute mankind’s potential as an entirety, quitting isn’t an option, settling is not an option.

In the midst of universal human sayings, one that surfaces frequently is the idea that living is the best thing, our greatest gift from whatever higher source bestows upon us. If this is the case, why not exercise your right to go beyond the standard requirement of affirmative morality and stretch the elastic boundaries in which pure justification subsists. The human race should only halt to pursue when its plug is pulled; all other routes consist of indolence or mediocrity.

Sleep is not overcoming me as I wish it to. Thus I'm eating cereal and listening to The Smiths. I have a twelve hour day tomorrow at the lovely MacArthur, One-Act rehearsal 4-6:30 and orchestra rehearsal 6:20-8:30. That means I have negative time to collect myself. I'm not giving a sobb story (I always spell it like that because of the song "Sobb Story" by Leaders of the New School) trust me.

I'd fancy splurging a week in Seattle or Portland; dwell in the drizzly streets or assemble myself in the verdant evergreen forests. Texas is too much ‘in your face’ and not enough ‘go your own way.'

Perhaps I'm finally heavy-eyed.
Good night.
Have a marvelous slumber and a productive day.

12 March 2009

depeche mode - enjoy the silence

i looked through a window at night and saw my reflection.
directly where my eyes were, a car's headlights were on outside
and i looked like raiden.
kings of convenience - i'd rather dance with you
faces - ooh la la
the innocence mission - bright as yellow
q lazzarus - goodbye horses
rush - the trees
thompson twins - if you were here
the whitest boy alive - high on the heels
everything but the girl - corcovado
nina simone - my baby just cares for me
black moth super rainbow - i think it is beautiful that you are 256 colors too
the rolling stones - under my thumb
cheese people - i'll be with you
queen - i want to break free
heartsrevolution - switchblade
the dø - on my shoulders

11 March 2009


1. the fire hydrants were completely bursting out water down san pedro, as if they were possessed.

2. a fire truck, ambulance, and medical helicopter landed at school for no reason.

3. my car accelerated by itself and wouldn't brake. quite scary.

4. there was a magnificent blue light in the sky tonight.


10 March 2009

i can't think of a title.

"He was there alone with himself, collected, tranquil, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the skies, moved in the darkness by the visible splendors of the constellations, and the invisible splendor of God, opening his soul to the thoughts which fall from the Unknown. In such moments, offering up his heart at the hour when the flowers of night inhale their perfume, lighted like a lamp in the center of the starry night, expanding his soul in ecstasy in the midst of the universal radiance of creation, he could not himself perhaps have told what was passing in his own mind; he felt something depart from him, and something descend upon him, mysterious interchanges of the depths of the soul with the depths of the universe."
I'm not one to quote people.

However, I cannot for the life of me broach this sensation in any fashion superior than Victor Hugo's prose. The above passage is easily my favorite paragraph in any book I've read. It's not necessarily my number one piece of fiction, though this particular segment in Les Misérables radiates through every part of the physical/mental/spiritual/whateverthehellyouwannacallit make up within my body. Seriously. I feel as if everything I desire in my existence thus far can be traced between a few lines of pure nirvana: the above material.

*It's quite handy to have a pad of paper and a writing utensil when reading a piece of literature because finding brief passages with such an immense bearing is similar to filtering out little nuggets of gold during frontier times. Why frontier times? Because in elementary school, we got to go to Shakertown where they taught us to shave with old fashioned razors (not literally of course) and find GOLD and knead bread and use the cottin gin and so on so forth.

ANYWAY going to what I was originally stating, Les Mis wasn't my copy to keep and I wrote this extract on a wadded up piece of paper. I can honestly say (and I'm being honest) that honestly I think about this paragraph, honestly, everyday of my honest life. But I had no idea where the hell I put that trifling little note with this scribbled mess on it.

Today I found it. In the trenches of my bottomless desk drawer.

Everyday I'm realizing even more just how large my heart is. For certain things, of course.

I have a rash on my elbow pit. I keep scratching it. I NEED A FIX! Just kidding. But really, it's as if someone is shooting up heroine; it's super agitated.

Okay. Goodnight. It's three oh three in the morn.

09 March 2009


Time to compose the story of my life.

I'm going to list every physical attribute that is suffering at the moment, whether minuscule or impending:
My shoulder is bleeding.
My left elbow pit has had a sand papery itch, thus it's starting to scab.

A mild upset stomach, nothing catatonic.
My nose is enduring the pungent smell of this bowl of cat food sitting on my floor; reasons as to why this is here, I know not.
I think that's all.

In all honesty, I really haven't had the umph to write anything extravagent lately. I start quite a few of these things, but always end up clicking out of the window. I can't seem to muster up even time devotion or elevated vocabulary to form a sufficiently captivating entry.

If someone were to ask me what my main emotion consumption is at the time being, I would say weary steadiness. Ha, make sense? Is that even an emotion?

Remember kids, focusing on petty things can be rewarding; it allows yourself to limit how much dosage of the "big picture" you inject into your never wavering brain.

It's interesting to compare and contrast dreams with fellow human beings. Some don't remember their dreams, others have reoccuring dreams, some dreams relate to what the person thinks about before they fall asleep, others have dreams tripped out on LSD.
Those are my dreams. I swear, the things that happen in my figments manipulate them to be so unrealistically realistic. But I suppose, a vast majority of the world feels this way.

Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear. What am I to do? It's so peculiar. When you're a fashioned risk taker, you often find yourself unable to make the jump to the thing that remains the safest. It's your biggest challenge. I can't ignore the signs within myself; I simply can't. You can't force yourself to feel a certain way. And that's what (scares isn't the right word, it's more like) baffles me. I'm disappointed in myself.

I like my cheddar sharp, thank-you-very-much. That's the story.