So, yeah. I've noticed that things are becoming distinctly un-christmassy as of late. I suppose that has something to do with the fact that it just happens to be January 13. Who would've thunk it?
We spent Christmas at home this year, which was nice. Christmas not-at-home just isn't the same. Then for the rest of my precious, precious vacation, we stayed in Massachusetts.
Now, I had it pretty easy, as I was staying with my horsie aunt, who is my shorter, red-haired great-minds-think-alike buddy. However, Mom did not have it so easy. You see, she suffers from a general affliction called "genetic obligation," in which the sufferer's mind is twisted in such a way that they believe that, no matter how crazy or difficult your parents are, you should always stay at their house.
I love my grandparents, really, I do, but when I found out that my aunt was more than happy to have us stay at her house, I jumped for it. I believe in self-preservation. Apparently, Mom does not. I think it will be another few days before she is finished with her post-Christmas detox. Psychological warfare takes a few days to recover from.
~~~~~~
On another note, how pathetic is it that you've finally grown to enjoy life and appreciate the smaller things, yet you still feel an intense childhood jealously of your filthy-rich-but-in-denial 9 year-old cousins when they show you their horde of Christmas presents?
... and by "you," I mean "I"?
Grrrrr!
Calm down. Calm down. Think happy thoughts, and of Willie, who's better than any object and can love you back... :)
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
My Dear TomTom
Assignment: Write about a Christmas gift you received.
Constantly spying, it follows me. My every location is instantly known. The only game I can play with this scrutinizing being is "hide and don't seek," in which you travel aimlessly in futile attempts to drive it crazy and lose track of your current whereabouts. Usually, the only way to win this game is to press the power button.
Deep down inside, I know that when I ignore its commands to "turn right after 400 feet," it is secretly crying and gnashing its little electronic teeth in anguish. "Oh stupid, pathetic human! Why won't you follow my every command? How could you be so sure of yourself, when only I know where you're going, while you do not?!"
Fortunately for me, I can mute it whenever I want, looking at the glowing screen at my own leisure, and only when I'm quite sure I am lost and need its divine guidance from the heavens. I am certain that this poor creature is silently weeping, because as it comes up with new and innovative ways to rescue me from certain doom, I reach over and power it down. I wonder if that's how God feels?
Constantly spying, it follows me. My every location is instantly known. The only game I can play with this scrutinizing being is "hide and don't seek," in which you travel aimlessly in futile attempts to drive it crazy and lose track of your current whereabouts. Usually, the only way to win this game is to press the power button.
Deep down inside, I know that when I ignore its commands to "turn right after 400 feet," it is secretly crying and gnashing its little electronic teeth in anguish. "Oh stupid, pathetic human! Why won't you follow my every command? How could you be so sure of yourself, when only I know where you're going, while you do not?!"
Fortunately for me, I can mute it whenever I want, looking at the glowing screen at my own leisure, and only when I'm quite sure I am lost and need its divine guidance from the heavens. I am certain that this poor creature is silently weeping, because as it comes up with new and innovative ways to rescue me from certain doom, I reach over and power it down. I wonder if that's how God feels?
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Big House Rant
I had to perform a rant at the front of the class for an English assignment.
I went to the US for Christmas, and what I saw bothered me.
A lot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alright people, listen up. Big houses are completely unnecessary. They are everywhere you go now. I see that there's you, your spouse, and your dog, and you like to entertain. But unless you are planning on entertaining a horde of orphans, you don't need over 2000 square feet and "bonus rooms." "Oh, but I can't live without my billiards room, man den, 3 or 4 extra bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, work out space, indoor pool, 3 car garage, and 2 dining rooms!" Yes, you can. Get over it. The amount of money and energy you spend on heating and cooling the house could feed thousands of poverty stricken people for months.
People used to make do with under 1000 square feet and those were the families with 5 or more kids. Why is it, that in the past 50 years, the average house size has doubled? Why would anyone need that much space, especially since people have fewer kids than ever before? Let's stop this craziness.
A big house should not be the measure of a person, ever. A trip through modern suburbs, and shows like MTV's Cribs seem to push the idea that a huge house means instant popularity. Not only is that shallow, it also causes people to believe that they are worth nothing because they aren't filthy rich.
I understand that different people have different priorities, really, I do. But it's time people realize that "need" and "want" are two entirely different concepts. Get rid of your extra stuff, downsize, and for godssake, don't bring home anymore of those "reusable" bags. They will not redeem you in the environment's eyes.
I went to the US for Christmas, and what I saw bothered me.
A lot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alright people, listen up. Big houses are completely unnecessary. They are everywhere you go now. I see that there's you, your spouse, and your dog, and you like to entertain. But unless you are planning on entertaining a horde of orphans, you don't need over 2000 square feet and "bonus rooms." "Oh, but I can't live without my billiards room, man den, 3 or 4 extra bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, work out space, indoor pool, 3 car garage, and 2 dining rooms!" Yes, you can. Get over it. The amount of money and energy you spend on heating and cooling the house could feed thousands of poverty stricken people for months.
People used to make do with under 1000 square feet and those were the families with 5 or more kids. Why is it, that in the past 50 years, the average house size has doubled? Why would anyone need that much space, especially since people have fewer kids than ever before? Let's stop this craziness.
A big house should not be the measure of a person, ever. A trip through modern suburbs, and shows like MTV's Cribs seem to push the idea that a huge house means instant popularity. Not only is that shallow, it also causes people to believe that they are worth nothing because they aren't filthy rich.
I understand that different people have different priorities, really, I do. But it's time people realize that "need" and "want" are two entirely different concepts. Get rid of your extra stuff, downsize, and for godssake, don't bring home anymore of those "reusable" bags. They will not redeem you in the environment's eyes.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Alone
Alone doesn't mean "not with other people."
I have experienced alone.
Alone is when you are utterly isolated in mind and soul.
Alone is like an oceanless beach, dry and safe,
but without danger, what is "safe"?
When you are alone in body, you can dance and be yourself.
It's only when the others arrive that you hole yourself away
where you can hide in plain sight.
Some have wondered what the weight of the soul is.
Alone can give you that answer.
It is as large-heavy-dense as you need it to be in order to escape.
Alone is not bad.
It is you as you know yourself.
It doesn't mean "no friends".
It can mean no peers.
It can mean retreating until you feel
you can share who you are.
Alone is reached by yourself,
an independent achievement.
Alone is okay.
I have experienced alone.
Alone is when you are utterly isolated in mind and soul.
Alone is like an oceanless beach, dry and safe,
but without danger, what is "safe"?
When you are alone in body, you can dance and be yourself.
It's only when the others arrive that you hole yourself away
where you can hide in plain sight.
Some have wondered what the weight of the soul is.
Alone can give you that answer.
It is as large-heavy-dense as you need it to be in order to escape.
Alone is not bad.
It is you as you know yourself.
It doesn't mean "no friends".
It can mean no peers.
It can mean retreating until you feel
you can share who you are.
Alone is reached by yourself,
an independent achievement.
Alone is okay.
Monday, November 29, 2010
What's a guy to do?
POV: Caring guy with new girlfriend.
Well, today started out like any other day. I woke up, had some coffee, took a shower, and went out for a walk to calm my nerves.
Today was not normal, however.
Today, I was to meet my girlfriend's mother.
I was too jittery from the coffee to sit and watch TV, but too anxious to take another walk. Instead, I tried to pick out my clothes to wear for the visit. Casual? Business? Business-casual? I didn't want to be seen as a bum, nor did I want to be all tuxed up and ready to go.
At 1:00pm, the doorbell rang. It was my girlfriend.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she roared, "You were supposed to meet me and Mom for lunch at 12!"
"B-But-"
"C'mon!" She growled as she dragged me out the door.
When we arrived at her mother's purple-shuttered, daisy-gardened house my shoes came untied.
First I tied the Converse, then I tied the Aldo. All gussied up...
Suddenly, the front door swung wide open with a bang! "Well, hello dears..."
Why, her mother was a nice lady! "Come in, come in," she said sweetly. My girlfriend (ignoring my choice of clothing) walked right in. All I could do was saunter in apologetically and take the proferred armchair. Mother-dear poured us all a glass of tea in flowered china (How quaint!) and seated herself across the narrow coffee table. The paisley wallpaper danced across the bungalow's walls and the neatly vacuumed yellow rugs fuzzily tantalized my shod feet.
That's when I noticed the gun rack.
Mother-dear motioned to her daughter who immediately made a B-line for the kitchen.
And that is when my hell began.
CRASH! The coffee table shook from Mother-dear's (I now noticed) hefty fists. She stared me in the eye, pointed at the gun rack, and then at a strange tattoo on her bulked up forearm- a bunch of acorns.
"This," she menacingly hissed, "is a record. All the nuts who broke her heart...? Well, I ripped out theirs! DON'T BE THE NEXT ONE!"
"Now, you walk her home, buy her an engagment ring, and treat her right...
... or else."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I woke up, I started my day like any other day...
Well, today started out like any other day. I woke up, had some coffee, took a shower, and went out for a walk to calm my nerves.
Today was not normal, however.
Today, I was to meet my girlfriend's mother.
I was too jittery from the coffee to sit and watch TV, but too anxious to take another walk. Instead, I tried to pick out my clothes to wear for the visit. Casual? Business? Business-casual? I didn't want to be seen as a bum, nor did I want to be all tuxed up and ready to go.
At 1:00pm, the doorbell rang. It was my girlfriend.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she roared, "You were supposed to meet me and Mom for lunch at 12!"
"B-But-"
"C'mon!" She growled as she dragged me out the door.
When we arrived at her mother's purple-shuttered, daisy-gardened house my shoes came untied.
First I tied the Converse, then I tied the Aldo. All gussied up...
Suddenly, the front door swung wide open with a bang! "Well, hello dears..."
Why, her mother was a nice lady! "Come in, come in," she said sweetly. My girlfriend (ignoring my choice of clothing) walked right in. All I could do was saunter in apologetically and take the proferred armchair. Mother-dear poured us all a glass of tea in flowered china (How quaint!) and seated herself across the narrow coffee table. The paisley wallpaper danced across the bungalow's walls and the neatly vacuumed yellow rugs fuzzily tantalized my shod feet.
That's when I noticed the gun rack.
Mother-dear motioned to her daughter who immediately made a B-line for the kitchen.
And that is when my hell began.
CRASH! The coffee table shook from Mother-dear's (I now noticed) hefty fists. She stared me in the eye, pointed at the gun rack, and then at a strange tattoo on her bulked up forearm- a bunch of acorns.
"This," she menacingly hissed, "is a record. All the nuts who broke her heart...? Well, I ripped out theirs! DON'T BE THE NEXT ONE!"
"Now, you walk her home, buy her an engagment ring, and treat her right...
... or else."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I woke up, I started my day like any other day...
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
A letter
Good-bye you evil harpie, you wicked witch.
I won't miss you.
If I do feel a twinge of regret, I absolutely refuse to acknowledge it!
You laughed at my normalcy, my life as I knew it. You dragged me off of the deep-end, and until my eyeball was pressed against the bottom drain, you had me so deceived that I still called you friend.
Because of you, little things are what makes the crazy come out. Today, in fact, I laughed and teared-up hysterically because the boy on the intercom sounded like Spongebob. Everyone was being normal, like usual, and I just couldn't stop laughing.
It's all because of you.
Because of you, when I'm brushing my teeth, I make strange faces and end up choking on toothpaste because of my laughter. Every time I giggle, chuckle, laugh, guffaw, hoo-rah I think of you.
You have poisoned my life.
I get strange looks. Me-the serious one, because of seeming bouts of insanity. Sometimes people laugh at me- and I join in.
Because of you, people claim that I've lightened up, have learned to live life to the fullest.
Because of you, get this, I've become "a better person."
And it's all because of you.
Thank you.
I won't miss you.
If I do feel a twinge of regret, I absolutely refuse to acknowledge it!
You laughed at my normalcy, my life as I knew it. You dragged me off of the deep-end, and until my eyeball was pressed against the bottom drain, you had me so deceived that I still called you friend.
Because of you, little things are what makes the crazy come out. Today, in fact, I laughed and teared-up hysterically because the boy on the intercom sounded like Spongebob. Everyone was being normal, like usual, and I just couldn't stop laughing.
It's all because of you.
Because of you, when I'm brushing my teeth, I make strange faces and end up choking on toothpaste because of my laughter. Every time I giggle, chuckle, laugh, guffaw, hoo-rah I think of you.
You have poisoned my life.
I get strange looks. Me-the serious one, because of seeming bouts of insanity. Sometimes people laugh at me- and I join in.
Because of you, people claim that I've lightened up, have learned to live life to the fullest.
Because of you, get this, I've become "a better person."
And it's all because of you.
Thank you.
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