Friday, December 31, 2010

My thoughts are all over the place.

My heart pounds tangibly between my ribs.

My vision jumps with every beat of the struggling mass of tissue within my chest.

I have a headache from unwittingly clenching my jaw.

I relax the muscles, but the damage is already done.

I furiously scratch words off of the page as I transpose letters, misspell common terms, and drag ink across the paper from the involuntary muscle spasms that have lately become so commonplace.

I want to write.

My writing is the only thing holding the rest of me together.

But I can't write.

And I have no idea why.

For the first time in years, I am experiencing anger.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Gangsta, gangsta at the top of the list.



I apologize for the crappy picture quality, but my phone camera is the only way for me to get pictures onto my computer at wor--uh...this place that I am at right now where it's actually totally cool for me to be on the internet and I'm not slacking off.

Okay, fine, I'm at work, but I'm working with Pro/ENGINEER and there's only so long that you can stare at one model without blinking before you start making mistakes.

Anyway, I received this mouse for Christmas from my parents. I had been needing a new wireless (it's corded in the picture, I know, I will explain) mouse because I broke the scroll wheel on my old one carrying it back and forth to class with me every day. It was a sad, sad day when it happened, as that mouse has served me well over the past few years. I'm still getting used to the feel of this one, but I've become pretty comfortable with it already, and I'm really liking the feature set. It's a Razer Orochi: Razer's first wireless gaming mouse, from what I understand. Now, I'm not a gamer anymore, but there's no reason why non-gamers should not be allowed premium mouse features. The mouse connects wirelessly through bluetooth, but it comes with a USB cable that plugs into the front of the mouse under the scroll wheel and allows the mouse to run off of the computer's power (rather than using the batteries) and operate at twice the DPI. Wireless mode hits up to 2000 DPI, which is more than enough for me, but the mouse is more powerful than that.

The Orochi has seven buttons: three as usual (left, right, and center click), and two on each side. The mouse is programmable, and the software allows you to customize each button. Right now I have forward and back buttons under my thumb and DPI adjustment buttons on the right. One thing that I really like about this mouse is that instead of saving your settings in the software used to customize the burrons, it saves a profile directly to the device so that if you take the mouse elsewhere, your customized settings remain. Also, the scroll wheel clicks to the right as well as straight down, allowing the center button to be clicked with the side of the finger instead of lifting it off of the left button. This will surely seem like a small conveinience to many, but I have been using it with Pro/ENGINEER today and it has made a world of difference, as center click is used frequently.

Anyway, it's a great mouse, and I recommend it to anyone looking for a versitile and relatively inexpensive high-quality mouse. My only complaint is that some of the edges in the plastic have kind of rough edges, but it's not a big deal. Your hand will find a comfortable way to sit.

Also, the scroll wheel glows like something out of Tron, which makes me shiver inside when I look at it.

TTFN

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

She's gone.

I am never going to see her again.

My feelings for her do not matter to anyone anymore.

Our time has long been over.

Reason tells me to listen to these notions.

Reason tells me to be done.

Reason tells me to move on.

Reason is exceptionally weak when confronting the self.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Pseudo-hiatus

With the primary holiday of the season come and gone, I am beginning to realize that I think I need a little bit of a break from this blog.

Not long; maybe just two weeks or so.

But between working during the winter break, putting time into this short story idea, friend and family obligations (good obligations, of course), and trying to switch Drinkable Review over to its new site before I head back to school, I really just don't have a lot of time for other writing.

I forgot to mention this earlier, but I am in the process of moving Drinkable Review over to its own dedicated URL. I have been considering doing this for some time, but some unexpected and recent developments have finally inspired me to action. The review is starting to gain a teensy bit of notoriety, and I think that for the sake of optimal traffic control and potential advertising benefit, it would be best to just switch it now before the archive gets any bigger than it already is.

But the primary reason for this hiatus is, as much as I hate to say it, that I think that I just need a little bit of a break from journaling.

I need to get away from my written thoughts for a little while and allow myself some time to refine some of my new ideas, opinions, and stories.  

I intend to continue posting from time to time throughout this hiatus, but the posts will likely be along the lines of my more initial content (mostly just pictures and brief quips about things that I see around town). While this may appeal to some of you out there who have been reading from the start, others who wish to be notified when I return to form may send me an email at the address listed in the sidebar.

As I said, I will not be gone long. This is, more than anything else, just a technical break while I work out some issues with some of my other online ventures, but I do think that the time away from my writing will offer me an opportunity to further improve the content that I have planned for the next few months.

Anyway, before this gets too long, I just want to say thanks in advance for your patience while I work through some of the other things that I have going on right now. Keep checking back from time to time, as this is in no way a complete abandonment of the blog despite my utilization of the term "hiatus," and I will definitely be back on track by the time I return to school.

I hope that everyone enjoys the rest of their respective holiday seasons, and I look forward to getting back to work here on Ultimate Gourmet come mid-January.

-Hayden

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Merry/happy holiday season of your choosing

I love the holidays.

Although I do wish that they could be more relaxed and that everybody wasn't so uptight about shopping.

Sometimes I feel that holiday shopping, particularly the last minute mob rushes, is a perfect example of people abandoning their developed social mentalities and giving in to their more primitive evolutionary impulses.

But I still love the holidays.

People are, in general, just nicer to each other.

I long for a reality in which a major holiday was not required for society as a whole to show concern for its respective individuals, but I will take what I can get.

Also, I love gingerbread.

Gingerbread is my favorite.

Happy holidays from Ultimate Gourmet.

TTFN

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

I have officially begun preliminary efforts towards my short story.

I intend to keep posting here during work on the piece, but it will likely be sparse until mid-January.

But keep checking back. I may try to keep it up.

I'll keep you guys on the know about how the break is going with regards to my writing.

TTFN

Monday, December 20, 2010

Ice

I wake up in the driver’s seat of my still running vehicle.

Japanese Hip-Hop tumbles out of the speakers.

I suddenly panic and wonder how long I had been asleep.

The display on my ever-failing stereo has gone out, and I press my fingers against it, seating it temporarily back onto its contacts, revealing the time, track number, and bass monitor.

7:11 am.

Fifteen minutes.

I still have almost two hours before my exam.

I relax into the upholstered seat as much as possible.

How did I fall asleep for fifteen minutes?

I took the stupid pill an hour ago.

How did I fall asleep?

I don’t have time to worry about this right now.

The car is still running.

I turn it off.

The silence of the crisp, cold morning settles in around me.

There is no one else in this parking garage.

But then again, why would there be?

I’m sure that very few others were still awake to see the sunrise with me today.

I get out of the car.

The air is freezing on the third floor of the open, concrete structure.

I collect my things and start towards my destination and walk across the bridge out of the garage, proving my initial hypothesis incorrect.

The air is just freezing.

Period.

My gloveless hands immediately begin to ache in the wind chill.

The wool coat around my chest and waist keeps most of my body warm, but the few exposed areas create a stark contrast between comfort and brazen hostility.

I reach the library.

Halfway there.

Patches of water in the school’s reflecting pool are frozen solid, broken up only by the slightly warmer water being pushed through the pool’s fountain and out onto the icy surface.

I listen to the water splash and slap against the partially solidified surface.

I listen to the sound of the water being forced through the pump.

I listen to the eerie silence surrounding the noise.

I survey the campus around me, taking note of the fact that, other than my chest and eyes, this fountain is the only source of motion.

The surreal placidity of the environment around me only serves to emphasize the song of the fountain as its auditory propagations ricochet off of the surfaces around me, each material giving their respective echoes a unique and profoundly delicate texture.

I stare at the jets of water, pausing for a moment to soak in the sublime beauty of this private orchestra of machine and nature.

My face is numb.

The cold doesn’t hurt anymore, although every movement of my frigid knuckles is exquisitely painful.

I miss the bracing sting against my face, but the lack of feeling makes the second half of the trip easier.

I take a smooth breath, inhaling the clean air deeply into my lungs.

My chest shudders at the peak of this inverse sigh, and I hold the chilled fluid in my lungs for a moment as my legs carry me ever forward.

The amphetamines have released into my system.

I have never felt more awake.

I have never felt more alive.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

I saw Tron: Legacy this afternoon.

It was absolutely amazing, and was certainly worth the wait.

I can't stop thinking about it.

This is the movie for which I have been waiting for 21 years.

I feel like it was made just for me.

And yet, the ending...

The very last moment of the film.

Literally five seconds before the credits rolled.

The ending upset me in a horrifyingly personal way that had almost nothing to do with the film.

She looked just like her.

I tend to think that I am a pretty reasonable person.

I'm pretty good at keeping my past in the past about most things.

But I have never before in my life had stronger, more agonizingly vivid flashbacks.

Oh my God, she looked just like her.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

I apologize for my recent abscence, but there will not be a post today.

Between work, having a broken computer, and running around town trying to take care of Christmas and other miscellaneous business, I haven't had much time to post.

I do have some things written up, though, and I should be getting a new post up sometime tomorrow.

Thank you for your understanding and patience.

TTFN

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Imbibe

The alcohol feels good.

The pain does not lessen; that is a lie.

It intensifies.

But my thoughts are clear.

My anxieties strewn about, naked, in front of me, unimpeded by the day's occurrences.

Life is so simple here.

There is nothing but me and this glass; this pen and this paper.

There are no equations.

Inspirations flow freely, but there is no motivation to write.

The bartender replaces my empty Manhattan with a glass of cold water.

I thank him, but not nearly as loudly as I had intended.

He does not hear me.

Do I say it again?

No.

He might have heard me.

My vision darts around the room.

The medication is exiting my system, making for an interesting mix with the effects of the alcohol.

My head swims.

The walls breath with me as I inspect every visible inch of the empty room around me.

Thought comes so easily, but I do not care enough to develop the ideas into anything more than just that: ideas.

Concepts floating unquantified behind my eyes.

The lack of focus stings; a vivid reminder of the chaos that my day to day existence was merely two months ago.

There is still plenty of chaos.

But I don't feel useless anymore.

The bartender places an Old Fashioned on the bar in front of me.

"$2.50," he says patiently.

I have exact change, I'm sure of it. I reach into my coat pocket and curse my disorganization as I fumble around between folded sheets of paper in search of the two alloy disks. Concerned about my lack of haste, I pull the papers out of my pocket, hurling one of the coins across the bar and dropping the other onto the floor.

I am drunk.

For the first time in my life, I am drunk.

The bartender laughs with me: "Well, there's half of it."

I collect the rest of the money and pay the man, making sure that my thanks are audible this time.

I stare into the glass. The amber-hued liquid has leaked all of its initial momentum and settled to a lull at the bottom of the glass.

Why am I here?

Why am I doing this to myself?

Why am I enjoying this feeling so much?

I sit for a moment and watch as the ice absorbs the thermal energy of the fluid around it. I push against the far edge of the brim of the glass, entranced by the liquid as it crawls up the now angled surface.

I have never had bourbon before.

I unconsciously begin to calculate the heat transfer coefficient associated with the natural convection occurring before me.

The sudden chill of the air from the glass against my face dispels the uninvited numbers from my mind as the liquid flows gently over my tongue.

It is absolutely delicious.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

I am back home for the holidays.

I have not resolved and probably will not resolve the issues with my laptop, but I do have ready access to an internet-enabled computer now.

So I should be updating as usual again soon, bearing in mind the fact that I'll be working full days during a good portion of the break.

See you back here soon.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Well, I did not do well on my Heat Transfer final today.

It was easily the most difficult test that I have taken.

Also, I came home to a dead computer this evening.

Apparently my laptop is having "memory parity" issues.

I've run a few tests and tried a few things and have determined that it's not actually the memory that is faulty.

It's the motherboard.

So...I'm not really sure yet what I'm going to do about it.

But for the next few days or potentially weeks, I will not have access to a computer (I'm typing this on a friend's right now), and won't be posting anything.

I will be back as soon as possible, but as of right now I'm not sure when that will be.

I will catch up on emails and comments upon my return.

TTFN

Friday, December 10, 2010

I am working on a new piece, but it probably won't be ready until tomorrow night.

It's exam week, so the past few days have been pretty busy, but I have my last final tomorrow, so I should have time to finish it up after that and start posting more regularly again throughout the ensuing winter break.

Assuming, that is, that this test does not murder me.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Plainclothesman

I recently went to Wal-Mart with my father and sister to pick up some last-minute Thanksgiving supplies. I can not adequately express through words my dissatisfaction with Wal-Mart corporation, and I despise myself a little bit more each time that I set foot inside of the sliding doors and pass by the greeters who no longer offer the anticipated "welcome to Wal-Mart," but rather just smile emptily at the throngs of people passing through the entrance with an expression that screams "help me" within every crease of their tired faces. But sometimes periodic visits to the establishment are a necessary evil.

This time, however, I was glad that I went.

As we got into line to check out and started to unload our items onto the undoubtedly filthy rubber conveyor belt, a man pushed his cart up behind us, waiting for his turn to partake in this strange ritual that has become such a normalized aspect of human life over the years. He was an older man, probably in his late fifties, with a peculiar nose that was unnaturally level along the bottom but turned up ever so slightly on the end. He had a small, unwavering smile permanently affixed on his face, and the outside corners of his eyes were curved upward in the universal representation of subtle contentment.

I did not pay attention to the things in the man's cart at first, but once ours had been emptied, he began to unload his items at the very end of the belt. As human beings thrown together in such an unnatural scenario are wont to do, I stared into the man's cart as though I was unprecedentedly fascinated by the miscellaneous elements of his life on display in the basket in front of him. It was just food. Food and toiletries and a dozen roses. My eyes settled on the roses, seeing at first only an odd juxtaposition of intentions. However, as the flowers came into mental focus, I felt a rise spread through my body, as though my mood was lifting from the realization of the implications. A warmth spread through my chest, and I could not help but smile faintly at the man who stood staring into his cart with the same striking grin with which he had unknowingly introduced himself moments ago, unaware of my poorly regulated intrigue.

The man had run out of room at the end of the belt and was waiting patiently for fresh opportunity. He was dressed simply: a tastefully drab plaid button-up shirt tucked into straight-cut jeans secured at the waist by an unembellished brown leather belt. He leaned forward to rest his weight on the hand-grip of the shopping cart, propping one work-boot-clad foot against the bar running along the bottom of the cart in the process.

From the corner of my eye, I saw my father's hand reach for something on the chewing gum display beside the register. It hesitated there for a moment, before deciding on a small tin of candies. I turned back towards the register to attend to the more pertinent matters at hand, and mere seconds after doing so noticed another hand floating into vision from the other direction, undoubtedly inspired by my father's spontaneous decision. Momentarily unsettled by this odd symphony of hands dancing around in my peripheral, I had to fight back the urge to reach for the display myself, knowing that I did not actually want anything from the shelf and was simply being socially convinced that it was the right thing to do. As I stood at the register, unsure of where to place my eyeballs to avoid potential awkwardness, the man's hand hovered over the tin that my father had selected before finally picking up the box of mints next to it.

The man returned to his upright position behind the cart and inspected the tin. They were nothing special; surely he had had Altoids before. But he seemed almost a little confused as to why they were in his hand. For the first time that evening, his smile dropped ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed in a display of determination: determination to find a justification for purchasing the mints to which he had unwittingly committed himself. His gaze remained affixed on the embossed logo on the small metal box for several seconds more until finally he came to a conclusion and carefully dropped the container into the cart.

The man's smile quickly returned to his face, and we made eye-contact as he looked up. I acted natural, looking away promptly, but not so quickly as to infer that I had been staring. The man's smile was agonizing. For a moment I had began to feel a familiarity with the man. His confusion at picking up the mints was so genuine; unbridled in its sudden manifestation. As a being who constantly wonders if his actions are his own, the man's expression upon thinking about what he was doing resounded with me. But the familiarity stopped there. As soon as the mints hit the pile of items in his cart, he was finished. The wonder did not haunt him any further. He simply let go of the mints and allowed the smile to return to his face as they alighted next to the roses.

I realized in that moment that I knew why the man's smile intrigued me so intensely. There was an honesty within it with which I am almost entirely unfamiliar. This man could with such ease experience an emotion that I can not even begin to muster within myself despite my desperate and perpetually failing efforts.

This man had free access to something that I can barely fathom.

This man was happy, and I sincerely hope that those roses made her day.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Ale

The music emanating from the live jazz band in the corner of the room blasts into my eardrums as I sit alone at the bar, staring but not staring at the golden brown fluid in my glass. It stares back at me, unmoved by my longing but hesitant gaze. It has the legs of a beautiful woman. Foam from the perimeter of the surface of the liquid creeps down the smooth surface, marking where the liquid had once been. A smattering of bubbles sits transfixed on the now still surface of the beverage: remnants of the most previous disturbance of the system's vertical axis. I reach for the glass, but stop briefly before tensing my fingers around the perfect material. I can feel the container's temperature radiating from it. Or, rather, I can feel my temperature radiating out. I remain still and think about what I am doing for a moment, aware of the odd curiosity from the eyes fixated on me. I wonder myself, before finally giving into the desire that my body has convinced me that I have towards the liquid and taking a strong sip from the glass.

It is delicious.

I doubt my doubts and lengthen the duration of my "sip." My lips slide slowly off of the glass, and I hold the beer in my mouth for a moment, allowing the warmth from my face to emanate into the cold air within the vessel. At length, I swallow and the familiar aroma overtakes my olfaction: the burned outer skin of a marshmallow neglected over a fireplace. The taste inspires in me an emotion close to contentment. I set the glass on the bar in front of me. The jazz band has gone on intermission and contemporary lounge jazz shouts out of the speakers overhead during their absence. A new patron - one of many since I sat down - enters through the front door. The chilled December air wafts in through the portal and passes over my body in waves, hindered partially by the wool trench hung from my shoulders. I survey my surroundings briefly, only to discover that I am easily the youngest person in the crowded room; not by a significant margin, but still clearly the youngest.

I am stricken by a sudden sense of non-belonging.

I appraise my beer: only a few drinks left. I finish it in two.

The jazz band begins to play its second set.

I place my empty glass on the back edge of the bar and move to exit the establishment.

The cold air wraps around my neck as I walk through the door, buttoning my coat and wondering what it was that I was really expecting from the evening.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

I hate my existence more and more every day that I spend without her.

Why do I still feel this way?

Why am I still compelled to wait for her?

I am never going to see her again.

The end.

That is all that there is.

Why do I still miss her?

Why can't I get over this?

Everything that I do just makes it worse.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Nothing matters anymore.

Or did it ever?

I don't know.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Amphetamine

I hate you.

I hate everything about you.

I hate what you do to me.

I hate this dependence.

I hate the way that you leer back at me every morning.

The way that you so patiently stare back at me through your blue and white gelatin-based capsules.

The way that you taunt me; both of us knowing well in advance the inevitable outcome of the fight that I start with myself every time that I open your notoriously orange container.

I hate the fact that I can't do this without you.

The fact that I can't do this on my own.

The fact that I have so little control over my own mind that I can not get get a grip on this reality of mine long enough to function productively in society.

The fact that my consciousness is so unimpressed by the world around it that it must remove all sensory intake filters in an effort to quench its insatiable thirst for information.

I hate you.

I want nothing more than to dash your translucent plastic skull against the sharpest of stones and crush the shattered remnants under my feet, scattering your powdered entrails across this forsaken ground.

The notion sends waves of anticipatory pleasure down my spinal column.

But...I will not do that.

I can not do that.

I hate you.

But I was worthless without you.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

I just spent three solid days preparing for an economics presentation that my partner and I had to give today.

We were allotted ten minutes.

We did not finish.

When I sat back down after being cut off by the professor, I was, as one can imagine, rather upset.

But something was different this time.

Something inside of me changed today.

I came to accept a fact that I had never before felt justified in believing.

No matter how hard I try, I will always be a disappointment.
4 a.m.

I sit here.

I sit here and wait, more awake than the day I was born.

I wait for the ink to dry.

This silence screams against my ears.

My neck is so tense.

I wish for sleep.

It never comes.

I sit here and wait for the ink to dry.

It never does.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

"Resolving the essential issues - It is impossible to compete and win if problems are avoided. The door to innovation is opened by meeting problems head on and finding solutions."

-Toshiba Annual Report 2006, page 27

There is wisdom everywhere. Even in the corporate world.

Just some forecasting

I am working on a new piece.

It's been in progress for several days, but I can't promise when it will go up.

This week is going to be absolute hell.

I have four final projects due Friday, two of which haven't really even been started.

But I will try to have it up withing the next few days. If I can't make it this week, it will definitely go up this weekend.

Also, just as an FYI, I am currently working on a more long term project.

I was inspired by a dream that I had a few days ago to begin working on writing what at the moment is aimed at being a short story. I can't see myself writing anything much longer than that right now, but we'll see what it turns into. I'm hoping that by the time that I am finished with it, I will have a piece that is potentially worthy of publishing, even if just somewhere else on the internet more significant than this diary.

I am very excited about it, but I don't want to talk to anybody about it until I have a draft, so as to avoid expending my creative energies on explaining the piece rather than the process itself.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you, my readers, know what is going on with the blog right now. For the next two weeks, things are probably going to be a bit more sparse than usual. I just haven't had the time recently to put onto paper all of the things that I've been writing, and those things that I have written out I have not had the time to type into this box.

I haven't even had time to shave for the past month, much less sit down and take the time to pound out these pieces.

But I have been writing, and come winter break (mid-December), I am going to be posting legitimate content much more regularly.

Until then it will probably just be mostly thoughts and silence. The beverage review will maintain its regular schedule though, for those of you who keep up with that.

TTFN

Friday, November 26, 2010

"It occurred to me that many men had trouble expressing empathy because no one had ever taught them how. Most were clueless, not brutal—although some were both. Lots of these guys had grown up so confused and undereducated about the female anatomy that they hardly even had a sense of what sensations might feel best or what activities were most satisfying.
The more men I talked to, the more sympathetic I felt. I was approaching the biggest epiphany of my life: men had as much anxiety and shame around sex as women did. We were all in this together, and any ideology that couldn’t admit as much was doomed to fail."
-Charlotte Shane; Nightmare Brunette [Mostly NSFW]
From her article "The Professional"

Thursday, November 25, 2010

I have a bottle of my favorite wine in my room.

It has been sitting there, unopened and staring at me for over two months now.

I've been saving it for a "special occasion."

But...who am I kidding?

I am only 21 years old.

I am still so damn young.

I lack the maturity to back these romantic desires of mine.

I lack the self-establishment to be taken seriously by those to whom I would like to appeal.

Nobody wants a "troubled," bankrupt, college student who is just barely pushing into his twenties.

Damn my lack of age.

Gobble gobble shut up.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I guess.

I would rant about how inaccurate and commercial Thanksgiving (and all American holidays ever) has become, but I don't really have the energy right now, and I've already pissed enough people off with my Fourth of July post, so I'll just keep it to myself this time.

So Happy Thanksgiving.

Eat lots of vegetables and cranberry sauce, because turkey and stuffing are dry and not very appetizing unless you pour gravy all over them until they are no longer recognizable as their initial product and I don't really understand why they are such a big deal.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

She doesn't want this anymore.

I don't blame her.

Why would anybody want this?

Why would anybody settle for the inadequate?

It was ludicrous for me to ever think that a being such as myself could imbue happiness within another individual.

Monday, November 22, 2010

I feel nothing.

I want nothing.

I am nothing.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

I do not know how to make this better for any of us.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

I got excited about engineering again yesterday for a little while.

We were discussing fatigue failure theory in our design class yesterday morning and I felt the fascination that I used to feel towards the subject return to me, at least for a time.

It was a fleeting emotion, but even so, it was comforting.

Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

Maybe I can find a way to be okay with this...

Maybe.

Friday, November 19, 2010

I stepped onto the elevator today in the business building, and as I did, I noticed a girl who was already in the car glance down at my feet and do a double take. I wear Vibram Fivefingers, so it's not terribly uncommon for people to react that way from time to time. They are certainly an unconventional shoe.

However, after I walked into the elevator and turned around, I could feel her eyes on me. She was staring at my face, which was situated on the message that I was typing on my phone. I could sense that she wanted to ask me about them, but was probably trying to avoid starting an awkward elevator conversation. For the entire time that I was in the elevator, I could feel her gaze; interrupted only momentarily every so often to avoid complete awkwardness, but still always returning to its initial focus.

I don't know why I did not just turn and look back at her. She was certainly very attractive. I guess I didn't want to get into a discussion about the shoes five seconds before the elevator reached my floor, but I can't be sure. That feels to me like a justification for actively avoiding human contact.

The elvator stopped on my floor and I stepped off. As I did so, I heard her say to another girl in the elevator, "Did you see his shoes?"

"No," the other replied quietly, preoccupied by her own cell phone.

"They were really cool..."

This was the last thing that I heard before the doors slid shut with their characteristic vocalization of friction.

Why couldn't I at least just look back at her and smile?

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Damp

It is raining outside the boy's window.

He sits by the paned glass, somewhere around ten years old, fascinated by the spots of water falling terminally through the air and colliding with the ground with surprisingly insignificant force. The boy wonders to himself how something falling so fast could do so little damage to the world around it. He wonders why the rain causes him no harm when he stands underneath it and lets it play across his face. He thinks about the mysterious phenomenon; certainly not correctly. But he thinks, nonetheless. His attention is drawn suddenly by the grey plastic of the game controller wired to his Nintendo 64.

Opening another chamber in his already overly preoccupied mind, he situates himself in front of his tiny white monitor and reaches for the device. The slight chill of the recently unhandled material greets his skin as his left hand slides around the molded grip, sending a subtle jolt of familiarity through his elbow and up into the muscles of his shoulder blade. As he leans forward in his chair to turn on the monitor, a gentle roll of thunder reverberates through the boy's window. His thoughts are briefly turned back to the rain as the Legend of Zelda boots on the small black box that to him is the largest, most important item in his cluttered room.

Almost as quickly as his attention was directed back towards the rain, the all too familiar melody of the title screen calls his lack of focus back into the room's interior. For a time, at least, the boy is content.

The boy, now in his twenties, sits in his recently parked car with his hands still gripping the steering wheel and listening through the music wafting out of his stereo to the rhythmic sound of the idling engine. It is raining outside the vehicle, and he allows the din of the heavy downpour to wash over him. Filled with knowledge that he once lacked about the rain, he sighs out the breath that he had been holding and yearns for the sense of mystery that he once maintained about the world. He watches the water slide down the windshield and decides to just leave his things in the back seat for now. The emergency break emits its familiar ratcheting sound as the boy pulls it into place and rotates the key in the ignition backwards until the engine quiets. Letting his foot off of the clutch for the last time that day, he steps out into the deluge, unfazed by his almost immediate wetness.

The boy stands motionless outside of his car with his face angled up towards the clouds, eyes gently shut as the water slams against his skin.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

"Good morning, Mr. Fennell. How are you today?"

The man smiles at me and presents his hand as though it is a homecoming gift from an old friend.

His gaze gives off the thin facsimile of warmth and concern, but there is no real emotion behind his eyes.

I reach for his hand to participate in this distant and impersonal greeting, preparing my answer.

A thought whispers an imperative into my ears.

"Tell him the truth," it says.

"Stop lying to people."

Our hands clasp, somewhat awkwardly.

"I have never been worse, each and every day. I don't even know what happiness is anymore. Every day, the majority of my energy is dedicated to finding reasons to keep myself alive. Most of the time, I don't find any. Every morning, I get out of bed silently reciting my unconvincing mantra: 'I am myself, not someone else.' Every night, I get back into bed not believing those words for a second. I have to take medication just to gain control of my own mind long enough to finish the things that I start, a fact which has haunted me so ferociously throughout my entire life that it has taken until this year for me to finally overcome the fear of its implications and talk to a doctor about it. Even with the medication, I still must sacrifice almost every facet of my social and personal life in dedication to a major towards which I no longer harbor any of the passions that I once did. I isolate myself despite hating the feeling of being alone. I am constantly frustrated with the world around me, and can feel the creeping grasp of alcoholism inching ever closer with each disquieting thought. I analyze constantly. Sensory information is immediately broken down into its most primitive of mechanical components and reconstructed in my vision as slow-motion, detailed replays of each event, regardless of how desperately I try to simply be a part of the world without tearing it apart. I hate this life. I hate this mind. I hate this constant struggle, and I wish that there was something more."

After a most fractional duration of time that seems to me like an eternity, I give the man's hand one firm shake and speak at last.

"I am doing just fine today. How about yourself?"

Friday, November 12, 2010

I need more DDR in my life again.

I miss it so very much.

I miss the astonishingly quiet and empty sensation that it incurs in my mind.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Nose

I sit in the school of music's main recital hall in eager anticipation of a violin recital beginning in a few moments. Looking around me, I take in the scenery with which at this point I am already completely familiar. The pale wood of the rounded, segmented acoustical columns…the stark contrast between the dull metal pipes and the decorative weave of the recital hall’s prominent, obvious organ…the non-vibrance of the pale blue paint covering the matte walls…

The violinist enters the stage. Soft applause fills the room as she quickly acknowledges the audience, tunes her instrument, and begins to play, accompanied by piano. She is beautiful. Her skill and dedication require no introduction, and are immediately made apparent by her selected work. Students all around me have spiral-bound notebooks at the ready, writing instruments racing desperately to quickly put into words that which has no adequate linguistic description for their surely soon to be due music appreciation course papers.

As I allow the now well-established music to reach into my chest cavity, I notice a new and persistent external sound emanating from elsewhere in the audience. A man across the aisle from me is breathing so heavily that I can hear his entire respiratory cycle over the instruments. At first, I experience only agitation. I try to ignore it, but it persists. The agitation escalates gradually into aggravation with each labored intake of atmospheric gas through the nose next to me. 

“Talk to a doctor,” I think to the man in something other than words.

Suddenly, there is a breath to end all breaths; a stifled gasp, perhaps. The aggravation turns immediately to frustration, and I brave a glance to my left. The man is older, seemingly in his sixties, with moderately long, but stringently kept locks of shockingly white hair. He is handsome despite his age, and is inconspicuously well-dressed in the manner that only older, more dignified men can be. The man’s hands are folded with intent and held in front of his mouth, the elapsed knuckles of his index fingers suspended but a few millimeters from the bottom of his large, yet fitting nasal protrusion. His gaze is affixed firmly upon the woman on the stage, mirroring through his eyes a hybrid emotion of metallic concentration and soft, affectionate wonder. The corner of his mouth creeping out from behind his hands is contorted ever so slightly into the telling half-grin of a being impressed.

Not even a second after turning my head to the man, the violinist strikes almost violently a perfectly executed sustained vibrato of a pitch which can only be described as devastating. In immediate reaction to the grandeur before us, the man’s tightly clasped hands begin to tremble noticeably and his eyelids creep shut in a way that only deep satisfaction can provoke. The most empathetic of familiarities seizes upon my mind, and any form of frustration that I had once harbored towards the man dissipates so rapidly that it feels as though the emotion had never existed.

I maintain my glance briefly, long enough to notice the man’s knee begin to rise and fall slowly to the meter of the music. As I begin to look away, one of his hands struggles free from the other and begins sharply rising and falling over his rhythmically bobbing leg, jabbing the empty space in front of him on sharp notes and floating through the air as though unattached during gentle sections.

Here is a man with whom I share a mind. He is not simply listening to this music; he is allowing it to interface directly with his nervous system.

Full of understanding and newfound appreciation of the man’s elevated breathing, I turn my head back towards the stage, looking around once more at the students, many of whom have already directed their attention to more important matters such as monitoring their overactive cell phones or drawing fifth-grade geometry class cube diagrams in the margins of their notes. A couple in the seats directly in front of me are being silently obnoxious and perpetually falling all over each other.

I can still hear the man’s breathing over the music, but it no longer bothers me. It is, in a way, a comfort to me: knowing that there is at least one other person in the room who experiences sound not simply as entertainment or art, but rather as a physically holistic experience that transcends the boundaries between the body and its imprisoned mind.

I want to talk to the man. 

I want to listen to his stories.

I want to learn from him.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

"The medicine is not a wonder drug."

I've known that from the start, but it's recently become more apparent.

It still works, and it is still pretty damn wonderful to me.

But it only works when I want it to work, and my lack of motivation is stronger than ever.

I am just so overwhelmed.

There is so much to do.

My growing lack of interest in my chosen field of study is certainly not helping things, either.

I just want to write all the time now.

The scratch of my pen on the paper is the most exquisite sensation.

Sometimes I write just to hear that sound.

I still enjoy doing the math from time to time. I can admit that there is something deeply exhilarating about manipulating the numbers.

But there is just something about the pencil; something missing.

There is a peculiarity about the ink...

Something mysterious and ethereal and profoundly attractive.

Something that, for my sanity's sake, I dare not attempt to quantify.

I need this too much right now to understand it.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

I remember it clearly.

I remember every intonation of every syllable of every word of what at the time was the most stupefying question to which I have ever been party.

"You are so clearly a writer...why are you in engineering?"

At the time I did not know what to say.

I am sure that I just shrugged and made some excuse and changed the subject.

But I have finally arrived at an answer:

I have no idea.

I have no fucking idea.

Monday, November 8, 2010

The Heir and the Bus Stop

On my way out of Earth Fare today, I saw a relatively young father sitting at a bus stop with his son of probably about four or five years old.

They were sitting on the bench, waiting on the bus and reading through a picture book together. The child, his legs dangling characteristically from the edge of the bench, would frequently turn to his father with inquisitive eyes and purposefully jab his finger into the heavy card stock pages, physically denoting the word that he needed help sounding out. His father would simply smile in response and, reaching down to point in tandem with the boy at their phonetical adversary, form the syllables slowly with his breath as his son imitated the sounds with an eagerness that only the impartment of previously inaccessible knowledge can imbue in an individual.

As I sat in my freshly acquired seat in my car, my recently purchased quinoa and stuffed grape leaves left forgotten in my hands, I could do little but watch the event in front of me unfold, imagining in my mind the bus pulling up and the father helping his small companion up the precarious metal steps to return home and prepare dinner "together." After a time, I suddenly became aware that I was staring and that my door was still open, with one protruding foot still resting on the ground next to the vehicle. I quickly deposited my meager groceries into the passenger seat and went through the motions of starting the machine beneath me.

Pulling out of the parking lot, I stole one swift glance back at the endearing scene behind me. As I drove away in the waning light of the rapidly approaching dusk, I wanted little else in this world more than for this affectionate pair to make it home safely and in time to finish their story before the notion of sleep settled in around them.
I am so tired of failing things in Heat Transfer.

I don't know what it is about this class.

I try and try and try and all that I get back are unsatisfactory marks.

I have never worked so hard to fail a class.

Economics isn't going too well, either.

I'm not smart enough for this.

I'm not good enough with the numbers.

Conceptually, I understand everything.

It's all so easy for me to understand.

But as soon as I have to start applying numbers to the concepts, I feel as though I know absolutely nothing.

I feel like this is not me.

But what would be left of me without this?

Everybody thinks that this is me.

Everybody is convinced that I am one of the intelligent.

I wonder persistently if they are right.

But who am I but an amalgamation of the views and opinions of others?

There is no me but who you have collectively made me to be.

There is no I.

There is no you.

We are all the same.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

It is finally getting cold outside here.

I absolutely love cold weather.

Tonight, I am currently enjoying a modest meal of steamed quinoa with ponzu sauce and a mug of honeyed chrysanthemum tea while reading articles for a Heat Transfer project proposal.

Ain't nuthin' mo' cozy.

Friday, November 5, 2010

I am fairly certain that I got a 100% on an Engineering Design test this morning.

It feels good, but the test was so easy that I almost don't feel right considering it an accomplishment.

Either way, I erally needed the good grade, because I screwed the last test up pretty bad.

So I'm glad.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Everything is so out of control right now.

My thoughts are like screams.

Monday, November 1, 2010

I can feel the concentration.

I can feel myself focusing almost as though it is a physical sensation.

This is a clarity with which I am entirely unfamiliar, and it is wonderful.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

I started a new medication for my ADHD two days ago.

I haven't been on medication for almost eight years now.

So far, it's been an incredible decision. I have been getting my work done. I have been able to focus.

I had a moment two days ago while doing some design homework. It occured to me that I had not updated my twitter recently. I started to reach for my phone to do so, but did not, and got right back to work, pushing the distraction from my mind.

I know that that may seem like such a stupid thing to many people, but to me, it was a powerful enough relief to move me to tears in the middle of the school's dining hall.

The idea of just sitting down and getting something done is a very new concept to me.

My assignments no longer seem like such a death sentence anymore.

For seven years, I have lived without focus.

For seven years, I have left projects unfinished.

For seven years, I have not been able to concentrate on one thing at a time.

For seven years, I have looked at the students around me and wondered why it seems so much more manageable to them.

For seven years, I have put up with this unique, terrible hell in which I have simply been wandering, floundering, and just generally dicking around against my will.

But maybe now...

Maybe now, if everything holds out okay, I can live up to the potential that I often feel within myself.

There are definitely some side effects that I need to keep monitoring for these first few weeks.

But so far my only regret is having waited so long to talk to somebody about this.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

I am so tired all the time now.

I wish that I could enjoy sleep like everyone else.

But even my best dreams are still haunted by this insanity.
I have learned so much, yet known so little.

I hate the phrase "spending time."

It only serves as fuel for my anxiety.
I need to make electronic music.

I have felt this way for years now.

I have never been so strongly and consistently called to something.

It is just frustrating knowing that it could be years before I can afford to properly delve into it.

Monday, October 25, 2010

It is a beautifully overcast day outside, and I am stuck inside of a windowless classroom building.

I don't know why they thought that it was appropriate to design a class building in which none of the rooms have windows. Especially since most of us stay in here for hours and hours at a time.

I drove a friend of mine home yesterday after working on a project all evening, and after I dropped her off, I really drove for the first time in a while.

For the first time since I got pulled over this summer, I drove without once looking at the dashboard.

It was so liberating.

TTFN.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

These are the years that people are beautiful.

Let's waste them away with philosophy and mathematics.
I barely even remember what it feels like.

Part of me is frustrated to no end by this fact.

But maybe it's better this way.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

I went to a house party last night.

It was pretty crazy.

I didn't wake up until 1:20 PM today, which felt absolutely disgusting, but I had been awake for over 48 hours before falling asleep at 4 AM last night, so I guess it makes sense.

At this party, I had an interesting experience.

Just for reference purposes, I have a lot of gay friends, and I was one of the few straight people at this party.

So I was sitting on the couch with some people, when this girl who I had met earlier in the evening but not said a word to since came up to me, halfway sat down on the couch next to me (she was sitting on her knee facing me), and asked, "Are you straight."

"Yes," I replied, almost a little bluntly.

She hesitated for the smallest of a fraction of a second, and proceeded to ask, "Okay. How big is your dick?"

I was, one could say, a little surprised at the forwardness of the question. At a loss for words, I did not answer right away.

It's not so much that I did not want to tell her. I am not ashamed of the biology that I have been assigned, and she was clearly drunk enough to posit, with absolute sincerity, such personal discussions to a person whom she had never met before in her life. But there are some facets of my life that I just prefer to keep private.

After a short time, I answered with, "Who needs to know?"

"______ is over there in the back room, and she wanted to ask you but didn't want to do it herself. Would you like to meet her?"

I was pretty sure that we were on the same wavelength concerning the meaning of the term "meet" in this discussion.

I took another minute, during which she asked me again if I'd like to "meet" her, and I eventually just decided to be honest and said, "Well...I'm not about to have sex tonight, if that is what 'meet' means right now."

She just looked at me for a second, and then just nodded her head and said, "Oh...okay. Well..."

And then we just kinda sat there in awkwardness for a minute, after which I just resumed conversation with the friends I had been talking to. Then she simply got up and walked away.

I think that it's fair to say that that was one of the most surreal interchanges of my recent history.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

I don't really understand how one can be perfectly fine with alcohol and its subsequent effects and yet be utterly revulsed by the idea of narcotics.

I do not necessarily condone the use of narcotics, but I also have a difficult time condoning applied doublethink.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

I am myself, not someone else.

I am myself, not someone else.

I am myself, not someone else.

Monday, October 18, 2010

I feel sick.

The state of my life is beginning to settle in.

The reality caused by the choices that I have made are starting to hit me; one after another, in rapid succession.

I feel like throwing up.

Or, maybe it's the fact that tonight I have eaten an end of a loaf of bread, a bag of salsa verde tortilla chips, and a can of weird organic vegetable soup, each an hour apart.

I think that I'm going to say that that is the true culprit here.

I want some ice cream...
This week is going to kill me.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

If anybody out there knows where I might be able to get a copy of Myst IV or Myst V on the cheap, please send me an email at this address.

I would really appreciate it, as they are crazy expensive and I must play them.

Friday, October 15, 2010

I finished Ergo Proxy two nights ago.

It was really, really good.

I highly recommend it.

In other news, it's fall break and I don't care.

I just want the school work to start back up so that I have something to do.

This boredom only makes the emptiness of my bedroom more apparent.

And my money from working all summer is not holding out too well, so it's harder for me to go out and do things with people, because at this age, "free outings" can be quite rare.

My currently non-replenishing alcohol supply is running low, too.

But I'm sure that my friends will be happy about that.

Apparently people think that I'm an alcoholic.

Is it because I know how to mix a few drinks? Is that weird for a college student? Should I just down the Bud Light like everyone else? Then I'd just be a normal college student who gets drunk every other night at some party and not an alcoholic who has maybe two small drinks a week in the comfort of his own home, right?

If that is the problem, then I'm pretty confused, because it's sure as hell not an issue when the drink is being mixed for you.

I just don't understand why people "joke around" all the time about me having a problem just because I admit to enjoying alcoholic beverages. Everybody that drinks them enjoys them. They're lying to you if they pretend like they don't. And how is it better if somebody hates what they are drinking and is drinking it solely for the effects?

Why am I an "alcoholic" because I am capable of enjoying a drink on my own from time to time?

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Taking off one's clothes and getting in bed before the evening's responsibilities are satisfied is always a bad idea.

Also, I've developed a system based on some observations about myself:

Anime does not get watched during the day and books do not get read at night.

Therefore, anime gets watched at night and books get read first thing in the morning.

Homework and video games can suck it.

Except homework rules my life and it is all that I do.

So that's actually not true at all.

TTFN.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Here's your answer

A student died at a football game this past weekend because he got run over during a post-game temper tantrum between he and a fan of the other team.

According to police, he and the other fan got out of their cars and began fighting, after which he was knocked onto the ground where the friend that he had been riding with accidentally ran him over as he pulled into the median.

This is disgusting.

This is fucking disgusting.

There is something wrong with society when people allow themselves to get so upset about a GOD DAMN SPORTING EVENT that people's lives are put at risk.

Or, as in this case, taken.

They were arguing because of a football game, and a man died.

Somebody's son died Saturday night because of a football game.

Two individuals have to live with guilt and regret for the rest of their lives because of a football game.

A young man will never have the chance to realize his potential because of a football game.

And the most despicable part of it to me is that fact that our school newspaper dedicated pretty much the entirety of yesterday's paper to talking about USC's "huge victory." It was not until today that they even mentioned the event, and even then they barely did anything but say what the police think happened and offer an email to anyone with more details on the event. I understand that they may be waiting for more details, but I feel like this needs to be more of a big deal.

A man died this weekend, and talking about the score of the game was more important.

People always ask me why I don't like sports.

This is why I don't like sports.

This is precisely why I don't like sports.

Monday, October 11, 2010

I don't know where I am anymore.

As I learn more and more about the world around me, my grip on reality just seems to grow ever weaker.

It's counterintuitive, I know.

But the more I learn about the way that things actually are and the way that things actually work, the more disappointing my senses become.

Knowing what actually happens compared to what I physically experience makes my body feel so overwhelmingly feeble at times.

Shit dun' be crazy.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

I could really just use a hug.

A hug would be nice right now.
Gay people know how to have a good time.

I have so much more fun hanging out with my gay friends than with my straight friends.

It's just nice to be around people who aren't constantly judging you.

It's nice to be around people who don't care about you "saying the wrong thing" or "playing the male friendship game" wrong.

It's just nice to be able to relax every now and then and not have to pretend like I enjoy football.

TTFN.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

"I am myself, not someone else. I know how strange it was; I remember. And I know my memories can be treacherous. But of this memory, I am certain."

Ergo Proxy is one of my new favorite animes. It is bursting with quietly fascinating atmosphere.

It is subtle, and you have to concentrate to really pick up on a lot of it's nuances, but the feeling that this series invokes in me is incredible.

The art is also absolutely beautiful, and the writing is superb. Check it out, for sure.
I have been doing work for three weeks straight.

This is killing me.

The only time that I have for anything is when I am putting something off that I'll have to stay up all night to finish later.

I don't even know if I want to do this anymore.

Engineering is interesting, but the idea of being a corporate tool is a horrifying notion.

I've decided that physics is not a realistic goal for me.

I am not smart enough.

Conceptually, I understand it, but I have such a hard time focusing myself well enough to do the math.

I just don't think that it's a good fit.

But I'm starting to feel like engineering isn't either.

I don't know...I hope that I'm wrong.

I hope that it's just the stress...

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

The construct is just barely there.

It doesn't even seem real to me anymore.

Did it ever actually happen?

Did you actually happen to me?

How could I know?

I want to believe that it was real, but the memory seems so distant and faded.

No less meaningful, but like a scene out of a movie that I saw a long time ago.

And yet, those words...

Those words that were whispered so gently to me on the exhale of a breath.

Those soft, hedonistic words that so barely made it past my eardrums in the spectacular non-illumination of that distant spring evening.

Those words resonate through my memory with a sharper intensity than anything that I have ever heard.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Oh my goodness, are they really making a Myst movie?

I really, really hope that this is true.
OH MY FUCKING SHIT I AM GOING TO DIE THIS SEMESTER!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

I am simultaneously amazed and frustrated that my body always seems to manage to stay one half-step ahead of the exhaustion.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

I am so horny all the time these days.

It's getting really old.

I realized today that I have been subconsciously arranging the excess pillows on my bed to consume the extra space next to me so that it doesn't feel so empty at night.

I didn't really realize until tonight that I have been doing that.

It's...odd, really.

That my body could do such a distinct thing without me noticing.

But then again, my heart does beat.

My arms automatically go where I need them to go to interact with the world around me.

My legs carry me to the places that I am supposed to be every day.

So maybe it's not that surprising, after all.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Oh my goodness.

This is magnificent.

http://vimeo.com/11659495

Monday, September 27, 2010

"Am I alive, or dead?"

"We don't have to think like that anymore. We're together now. Everything we've done is forgiven. Everything."

Sunday, September 26, 2010

I had a... sizable amount of gin last night at a house party.

It was all delicious, but I felt like crap all night while it was wearing off.

I don't think that I want to do that again.

I'm about to go dungeon master.

I'm going to try to start updating more regularly again.

This past week was just hell.

TTFN.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Wow, I am so busy!

I don't think that I have stopped doing work since I got my first assignment this semester.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Do yourself a favor and watch Ink.

It is by far the best independent film that I've seen in a long time.

Just so you know you have the right one, it was produced by Double Edge Films in 2009.

But check it out.

You will not be sorry.
I would give anything for just one more night with her.

Just one more night.

That's all.

I wanted a chance to say goodbye.

I wanted a chance to say thank you.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Okay...I guess I lied.

Today was out of control.

Between spending the whole day in the engineering building, finishing assignments right before the class in which they are due, taking a Thermodynamics test, working on economics, cooking dinner, having problems mid-cooking and having to run out for more ingredients, and then doing more schoolwork, I did not have time to update today. I will try my best for tomorrow, but I don't want to make promises that I can't keep.

I'm going to a wine tasting with a friend after class tomorrow. I'm very excited.

TTFN.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Expect a fairly substantial update tomorrow.

I have a Thermodynamics test to study for tonight, and that's eating up all of my time, but I do have some things to post about.

See you then.

TTFN.

Monday, September 13, 2010

I would love nothing more than to read all night tonight.

But I can't handle the quiet right now.
"I never thought that alcohol could ease the notion of the sadness.


Now what used to be a happy home done turned into some bad shit."


I am falling in love with Outkast. I'm pretty much just now discovering them and I've been going back and buying their albums lately.


I never listened to them when they were popular (I was in middle school -- seventh grade, I believe -- when "Hey-Ya!" came out) because I was going through my punk rock phase and was under the horribly mistaken impression that I was not allowed to listen to that kind of music because I would be betraying my "identity" as a "punk kid."


Who went to Catholic school.


And followed all the rules.


And ironed his clothes every morning (a habit which has stuck with me to this day).


I used to be such a moron.


I used to think that the world was mine.


I used to think that my actions on this earth mattered.


Thank goodness that science came into my life and shattered those presuppositions. 

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Move not because of the influence of an external rhythm.

Move because it is what your body has been built to do.
I drank a lot of gin last night.

I didn't get past tipsy, but I was close.

I woke up at 6:18 this morning more horny than I think I have ever been in my life.

This is really starting to get old.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

It seems as though my life as of late has just become a consecutive series of events in which my mind just screams "FUCK!" at me at varying levels of magnitude and emotion.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

I may not have much to say for the next few days.

Tonight might be the night that I finally get drunk.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010


This feels so right.

It's hard to believe that I went the whole summer without this beautiful thing, and then an entire month with no watch at all.

I'm surprised I was even able to function.

TTFN

Monday, September 6, 2010

The last time that my phone did anything was September 4th.

Somebody texted me by accident.

I feel so alone.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Well, I can't start wearing my watch until Tuesday at the earliest because the jeweler here in town is closed all weekend.

Now I have to wait until I get back to school to take it to a jeweler there.

Ugh...this is like torture for my wrist.

TTFN.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

I got my replacement watch yesterday.

I am so excited.

The past month without a watch has been the most painfully unnatural four weeks of my life.

That sentiment is localized around my wrist, of course.

That would be pretty extreme if I was talking about my overall mental well-being.

In fact, I've actually kind of enjoyed not wearing it.

It was nice to not check the time every thirty seconds.

But I'm glad to have it back.

I have to take it to the jeweler today and get another hole punched in the band so that I can start breaking the leather in again.

I can't wait to have it back on my wrist.

TTFN.

Friday, September 3, 2010

My cell phone actually rang tonight.

I got so excited when I heard the ringer go off.

It was a pizza delivery driver with the wrong number.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

"The music washed away all their hate, and society started advancing."

I know that this is just a joke from a goofy song (an excellent goofy song), but I wish that people would allow this to happen.

We need to get over musical elitism.

Monday, August 30, 2010

A jumping spider just landed on my leg and I panicked and smashed it with my clipboard.

I could have easily trapped it and put it back outside.

Now I feel like a horrible person.

Why does the taking of even the smallest, most seemingly insignificant life bother me so?

Why do I empathize with bugs?

Sunday, August 29, 2010

One thing that human beings learn about life very early on is the simple yet critical notion of, "if it hurts, don't do it again."

It's one of the most instinctual, concrete thing that sense memory can teach us.

So why is it that when I apply that to relationships, I am deemed "bitter" by everyone else?

Why is it wrong for me to use my common sense?

Friday, August 27, 2010


These sunglasses...

Let me tell you something about these sunglasses.

These sunglasses have been through a lot. Lost, bent, re-bent, scratched, thrown, sat upon, stepped upon...everything.

And yet here they are, still with me. 

Today marks the third time that I have lost these sunglasses and had them returned to me by a third party. I lost them on my way to class exactly a week ago, today. It was pretty frustrating to lose them because I was involved in a tennis accident in high school (torn iris) and was left with a slightly slowed ocular reaction speed and thus sensitivity to sudden changes in light intensity in my right eye. Sunglasses help a good bit, and I almost always wear them outside while the sun is out. Not having them for a week has certainly been strange.

But today on the bus ride back to my apartment, the bus driver (whilst stopped at a red light, of course) held them up and asked if they belonged to anybody. 

I was amazed and overjoyed. 

Well, maybe not overjoyed. Maybe just joyed.

I can not lose these damn glasses. 

I am invincible.

TTFN

Thursday, August 26, 2010

The more I learn about capitalism, the more I align myself with socialism.

TTFN

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

I have found joy in life.

All that I think about anymore is my menu for the upcoming week.

I love this.
Every time that I become...mildly intoxicated, I am struck with the undeniable inclination that there is something inherently wrong with how we hide our bodies and how we are made to feel shame about nudity.

I want to take off all of my clothes and run around.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Increasingly relevantly titled

So I thought that I would go ahead and post about what I cooked and ate today.

For lunch:

Boiled asparagus with egg and grated Parmesan cheese.

For dinner:

Baked lemon pepper and herb tilapia with fresh yellow bell pepper and organic grape tomatoes.

For dessert:


Fresh dragon fruit.

Overall, I'd say that today's food experience was a 98% success. The tilapia would have been better with a lemon wedge rather than lime, but it was still delicious, nonetheless.

If anybody cares for recipes, send me an email, and I will be glad to send them to you.

TTFN.


Album of the day:

http://www.jamendo.com/en/album/53760

I am in love with this music.
I sliced the shit out of the fingers on my left hand with a kitchen knife two nights ago while chopping parsley.

Parsley.

I don't really know what happened, but from what I recall, I was lifting the knife to reposition it, and the next thing that I knew, it was passing through the top of my left index and middle fingers.

It didn't even really hurt.

I just heard the sound of tearing flesh, saw my friend (who was standing next to me) wince, and then the bleeding started.

That knife is fucking sharp.

The cuts aren't terribly bad, although my left index finger has been mostly out of commission for the past 24 hours. After the preliminary first aid, I think that everything will heal up properly. It's already started. It's just probably going to take a few days.

I just can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop visualizing the knife passing through my skin.

It was so easy.

It's almost beautiful, really.

That we can design these sorts of things.

These things that can destroy us with so little effort.

Friday, August 20, 2010

"Oh, Hayden, she just wasn't right for you."

I am sick of hearing people tell me that.

Stop it.

It's not your place.

It is not up to you to decide who was or wasn't right for me.

That decision was mine and her's alone.

Also, you are incorrect.

So please...just stop it.

It doesn't help.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Dinner went much, much better tonight.

Spaghetti squash with fresh tomatoes

The squash came out a teeny bit undercooked. I still need to figure out the peculiarities of this oven, but luckily the squash is still good. I actually prefer my vegetables a little undercooked. I like my veggies (although squash is technically a fruit) as close to raw as possible. They actually lose a good bit of their nutritional value during the cooking process. 

I've really taken to cooking. It's very... therapeutic for me.

I'm looking forward to developing my knowledge of it over the course of this school year.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Well, I officially had my first kitchen disaster.

I was cooking a spiced frittata with tomato sauce, and when I went to flip it over, catastrophe ensued.

To flip a frittata, one must hold a plate over the pan, flip the entire system, and then slide the frittata off of the plate back onto the pan. I had my plate in place, ready to flip, but as I flipped, the plate slipped away from the pan, and the entire frittata slid out onto the burner, where it immediately lit on fire.

After spilling nigh boiling grease all over my left forearm, I placed the pan onto my cutting board, ruining the surface of the board in the process as I prepared to put the fire out. I realized, however, that it was a grease fire (due to the oil that I used to coat the pan), and immediately stopped filling the bowl I had grabbed with water. I decided to just wait a few seconds, during which I thought I was going to vomit from stress, calculating that the fire would extinsguish itself, and after a few more seconds, it burned out.

So I filled the room with smoke, I burned my arm pretty badly, I ruined my cutting board, and I had a huge mess to clean up, all on my second day in the new apartment.

What a shitty night.

No more frittatas.

What a stupid food.
I am absolutely falling in love with Kino's Journey.

It is a wonderful, introspective, and beautiful anime series, and I highly recommend it.

Oh, and I moved back to my college town.

Classes start Thursday.

TTFN

Saturday, August 14, 2010

I absolutely love knowing that I am irrelevant.

It's lonely, at times, yes.

Actually, it's lonely all the time.

But it gives me some good time to myself.

Although I guess I do wish that I wasn't always irrelevant.

Friday, August 13, 2010

I knew from the beginning that I was just a fascination.

I was something new and different.

I was just a toy.

I can not believe that I have let this happen.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

I think that today is the day that I finally swear off fast food.

I had a terrible experience with an ice cream product at Sonic today.

Also, it's hard for me to justify even getting fries at a fast food place, because the very act of supporting those franchises is in a way supporting factory farming.

Even more also, I had forgotten how much fun Mario Galaxy is. It's a great game to just sit back and take in while you chill out.

It's certainly a nice break from the tension and concentration of the fighting games that I've been playing lately.

TTFN.

Monday, August 9, 2010

I just got back from a wonderful night of drinking with a very good friend of mine, and I have to say, I can totally understand why people become alcoholics.

I feel so light right now.

My thoughts are unusually clear.

The idea that consciousness has a chemical component is absolutely fascinating to me, and I must investigate this more thoroughly.

I must dance closer upon this dangerous line.
To live as though one can exist outside of the influence of mathematics is foolishness of the highest caliber.
I am buying a Meinl bongo cajon soon, but I can't decide if I want it with or without internal snare wires.

What a dilemma.

What a stupid, unimportant dilemma.

TTFN

Friday, August 6, 2010

Fuck my heart, I want you to fill this void in my bed.
Words can not express to you how badly I need one of these.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LfJLvuZqmQ&feature=channel

This is the instrument that I have been looking for all of my life.

I've tried playing several different instruments throughout my earlier youth, but none of them ever really fit quite right.

But this is it.

This is what I need to play.

This instrument combines everything that I love about music.

Percussion, rhythm, kinetic bodily movement, contemplative tones, resonance...it's all there.

Unfortunately, they are very expensive and are almost impossible to find.

If anybody has any leads as to how I could go about finding one, please let me know.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

This is absolutely horrifying.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZFG5PKw504

It is absolutely horrifying to me that there are people out there who are this mislead and mistaken and are so empassioned by their assault on reason that they engineer such weak, untested, and unbacked solutions like this and preach them to the world as unquestionable truth, refusing the entire time to even consider the most basic of evidences.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

I intend with all of my heart to waste my youth on science and philosopy and ideas.

My mind is searing with thought, and I plan on making use of it while I still can.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

I see as though through a video camera.

This is not my vision.

These are not my memories.

The majority of experience is mostly false; a pitiful interpretation of reality confined to the limitations of this infinitesimal husk in which I am trapped.
So I bought BlazBlue: Continuum Shift two days ago.

It's incredibly addicting. I love the pace and nuances of the combat system, and the art and music are just to die for.

Sigh...as if I needed another reason to never leave the house ever.

TTFN.

Monday, August 2, 2010

There are people all over the world starving to death, and I use a vibrating toothbrush every morning.

The ackowledgement of facts such as this brings unending volumes of grief, confusion, and guilt into my life.
"Imagine the people who believe such things and who are not ashamed to ignore, totally, all the patient findings of thinking minds through all the centures since the Bible was written. And it is these ignorant people, the most uneducated, the most unimaginative, the most unthinking among us, who would make themselves the guides and leaders of us all; who would force their feeble and childish beliefs on us; who would invade our schools and libraries and homes. I personally resent it bitterly."

-Isaac Asimov

Sunday, August 1, 2010

 OH SHIT!

You know, if you're going to make the name of your cause microscopic and put it as far out of view as possible, covering it up with bushes sure as hell doesn't help.

TTFN
The sun is coming out.

The forecast said that it was supposed to be overcast and rainy all day today.

We need to get better at this.

TTFN.

Friday, July 30, 2010

I am so angry, and I can not for the life of me figure out why.

I wish that I could just be comfortable.

My body is so tense.

I've been averaging four hours of sleep a night.

A "good" night, that is.

I've been getting headaches again lately, and my vision abnormalities are occurring with higher and higher frequency.

I'm to the point where I'm having trouble speaking.

I trip over my words almost every other sentence, and I oftentimes just have to stop mid-thought and start over because the sounds coming out of my mouth have become too unintelligible to fix.

I've come to several startling realizations lately, though.

My days these past few weeks have been riddled with moments of clarity.

There is something going on in my brain, and I haven't yet been able to determine if it is beneficial or just another low point.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

I wish that I was more physically able.

I wish that I could do impressive things.
I feel more comfortable in the driver's seat of my car than I do standing on my own two feet.

I hate getting out of that vehicle.
I had a dream about her last night, in the few hours that I managed to sleep.

It was the first dream that I've had in a long time.

It was...surprisingly good.

For a moment or two, my mind let me enjoy some of my memories without the searing pain of nostalgia.

It was a long dream, and she was there only briefly, but it was still wonderful.

However, I really can't say the same for the rest of the awoken day.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

I feel tipsy and I have had nothing to drink.

I feel like I should be more worried about this.

If only I could sleep.

God damn, if only I could sleep...

You'll have to click on this one to see. Photoshop is not installed on this computer, and I'm not in the mood to size it.

All that I can do is sigh. I don't know why beef is such a big deal around here.

Oh, wait. Yes I do.

TTFN.

I think that The Neverending Story is an absolutely terrible movie.

It's creepy, poorly filmed, and Falcor is really just kind of scary.

You can tell me that it's a classic all you want.

That doesn't make it good.

TTFN.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

I find it interesting that eastern religions such as Confuscionism, Buddhism, and Daoism have managed to develop a governing moral code without the influence of an omniscient deity despite the Abrahamic religions (less so in Judaism, but still) constantly arguing that it can't be done.

I find it very interesting, indeed.