la vue de l'intérieur

"do you think of others? like yourself?"

2009-12-16T14:31:00.000-08:00

in regard to the title of this entry: i wrote as ambiguously as i often speak to allow for a certain plurality in my message. it's asking a few different questions; the one to which you respond says a little about your perspective.

first, almost directly, it asks, if you consider other people (in your thoughts and actions). then, it asks if you like yourself. i hope the answer to each is a thoughtless "yes." reading the message this way reveals a more objective perspective/mindset.

a little more subjectively, it asks if you think of others like you - be that in terms of vocation, ethnicity, mentality, or whathaveyou. basically, do you consider the like-minded, and what connects you - makes you and your type what you are? a quintessential question for anyone passionate about a skill/trade/art, especially considering drive, muse, and what precedents have been set in your area of practice. consider the other; revolutionize your field, especially by inspiring those not quite as developed as you.

lastly, it suggests a side-by-side analysis of how you see. it does this by asking if you consider others as you would yourself. do you acknowledge the existence of a situational/external locus of control for others, as you would yourself? for example, when you are late, you can blame the weather, traffic, roommate issues, a faulty alarm clock, or a previous class on the other side of campus consistently releasing you late. however, when you see that classmate come in late all the time, do you blame the student for being lazy, or do you ponder why before pointing an accusatory finger? similarly, can you be as hard on yourself as you are on others? can you admit that you should have just studied more, tried harder, or actually cared?

the last two perspectives remind me of a quote i once read: "When you come across a superior person, think of being equal to him. When you come across an inferior person, turn inwards and examine yourself." consider those like you and inspire them to consider you. and when you look at others, utilize the variety of vantage points your mind and experiences provide. i feel, if we all do these things, there'll be a lot more understanding and a lot less hatred.

think. consider the other. like yourself.

and to quote one whom i believe will be a great future parent, "hey - quit fuckin up! "

*edit* watch this: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x8m5d0_everything-is-amazing-and-nobody-is_fun

pretty much another way to look at the concept of just thinking for a moment and considering another vantage point. think little. makes a big difference.

Hegemony

2009-07-20T22:47:00.000-07:00

Glossed with sweat, my body gently heaved in time with the quickened-though-disturbingly-natural pace of my breathing. As I surveyed my work, knocking a few limbs farther back into the brush, a contented smirk wormed its way across my face.

“Easier’n I thought,” I scoffed.

And it was. Invigorating, too.

Initially, my movements were constrictively precise – a quality borne of my usual line of work that I’d have to shrug off. But after a single demonstrative stroke by my superior, it was if I was born for the job. And how beautiful it all was! Free-flowing, rhythmic strokes easily freed limbs and chunks of their flesh, many of which fell at my feet like complimentary roses thrown before a ballet dancer. A few chunks careened into my chest and arms, but I didn’t mind. On the contrary! – my body hungered for further exhibitions of my utter dominance – continued acclaim for my beautiful performance.

It was all despicably good. I was like a child with his first Red Ryder BB gun, but instead, I wielded a common motorized hedge cutter. It purred like a dream as its blade tore seamlessly through the damned before me – unless I cut against the grain. Then, it roared like finely tuned American muscle. Either way, my ears were treated to a symphony of delightful deconstruction.

I glanced over at my superior to admire his strokes. (Mmmm, how electric must be the rush of doing this with a sling blade!) I thought. The light pull of resistance stemming from manually cleaving through the wretched creatures… I relished the power and knew no equal ecstasy.

Job done, I lusted for more, but knew it best not to overindulge my first time. As we headed back, I proudly wore the splattered badges of my conquest, not daring to wipe off any of it.

Pleasure aside, it was back to business. Once inside, I made my way back to my quarters, where the little lady gave me a glass of my favorite on the rocks, knowing well enough to leave the bottle right next to it. After washing down the delectable decadence, I turned on the computer to check my inbox for the rest of the day’s schedule. 9:54am – finished “hedging the weeds.”

Before I could access the mail server, an article on my home page caught my eye: “US-NKorean Nuke Race: Armoring up or evening the playing field?”

“Heh,” I scoffed. “That’s an easy one: depends on what soil you’re on.”

There’s a fine line between ready and not; man enough and not. Surprisingly, it was my superior who believed me adept, as the only pittance of trust in anyone he’d shown since I wound up here was placed in me; as evinced by his entreating me to both the mission and that devastating instrument with which I carried it out – flawlessly, I might add.

Heh, but he didn’t see what I did.

Peering into the workings of my heart – well, where it’s supposed to be – I know better.

They say it takes a big man to admit when he’s wrong – when he’s just not up to assume full responsibility for the task at hand. Guess I’m still growing. Heh, fuck it – no blood lost, right? Well, none of mine.

I wrote this after assisting my father edge up the forest line behind our house. While engaged, I did seriously assess the exhilaration of destruction. It being a while since my last father-son landscaping activity, I’d forgotten how dangerously powerful machines can be. Initially, I feared my strokes would end up taking a chunk out of my leg. As I familiarized myself with the weight and pull of the machine, my form grew more confident. Soon, I was unnecessarily eradicating all traces of trunks already virtually unnoticeable. I would grant no branch or stem amnesty.

I admit I went mad with power, like a kid in a candy store with a questionably assigned credit card. Realizing this, I began to fear continued indulgence and what it might do to my otherwise mild-mannered temperament.

But that was nothing.

What really shook me was the acknowledgment that, too often, this struggle pervades the conscious minds of men, inducing them to become slaves to the perverse – the carnal, and (perhaps) primal – without even knowing. Worse still, is when we willingly submit to the allure of power without even batting an eye.

Before you say “that’s not me,” think for a second. You tell your dog to “sit” and you forcibly make him comply. Or you simply hit it for taking its time to comply. Nothing, right? Some may disagree. But I won’t. However, I will once your hits grow progressively stronger, or if your body temperature rises with your increasing anger. Or you twist your mouth in perturbed insistence you be feared/followed. Now replace “dog” with “child,” or “video game,” or even “hair.”

We’re obsessed with control. I once read a quote holding anger is our response to lack of control. We’ve a high need for control in this existence where we’re each only about 0.000[0’s near ad infinitum]1% of the whole picture. We’re each (hopefully) fully aware that the world will keep spinning just the same with us gone. Other galaxies’ comets won’t adjust their orbital patterns one bit on account of any one of us being happy, sad, or angry. Yet when we feel we’re losing control in an existence where we’ve already a miniscule amount, we freak. We cling to any we can assume. And very often, we are only assuming it.

Owning a gun is a controversial issue regarding self-defense. Many feel safer having one. It gives them a sense of control and power in case of emergency. However, many feel it does the same even when there isn’t an emergency. So what happens would innocents at home, seeking control via firearm, clash with those employing firearms to ensure control and power in the form of wealth? A showdown ensues where the victor is the one with either the most gun or situational control. Thus, the struggle for power and control continues, possibly more intensely than ever before.

Nuclear arms = same theme, drastically more frightening/destructive plot. One side arms itself to protect against another party doing the same. Fear = response to lack of control. Fear drives one nation’s leaders to do what they criticize another nation’s leaders for doing. Each side calls itself righteous, obviously either blind to the quest for control’s hold over them, or embracing it and riding the wave of control’s high. And who’s going to argue when it’s said to be done in the name of the nation – of reducing fear and keeping control in the hands of “just?” Interestingly enough, only certain people are justified in dubbing others as “just.” Guess who they are. I’ll give you a hint: those already in control of your opinion and nation. Justification of the “just” is just another exercise of their control.

Now think: if those people whose fingers are already bound tight around the trigger of the gun holding the apocalyptic bullet are blind to the pull of control and dominance, or they willingly indulge themselves on it, that means they’re likely to share the same mindset as my fictitious narrator: they know they’re holding a loaded gun – aimed at us all – and not even willing to put down the gun. They either don’t know their trigger fingers are twitching, or love the thrill of staring down oblivion and knowing its onset is under their command.

It’s scary. It’s sick. It’s happening.

Query: when the heat is on, do you have what it takes – not only to realize your lust for power/control, but – to cast off its shackles, giving the situational reins to someone (then) more capable?

Something to think about.

kararavich

2009-04-10T17:03:00.000-07:00

my cue to shine...

[7:48:57 PM] [Raeed] says:

whenever i'm a little less ballsy/gutsy than i'd like, i return to two simple concepts:

[7:53:37 PM] [Raeed] says:

1) a key factor in the Mahayana vehicle of Buddhism, impermanence. we worry so much about time and try to make everything permanent, when we know it's not. nothing is. live in each moment fully, and prepare for the next. [his] interest in last night's boob show will pass, probably within minutes - days for certain. your unemployment will pass. you've quite the impressive resumé. it may be hard, but that's what makes you tougher and more appreciative, so relish it even when the chips are down. and when they're up, it'll take you ever so much higher. and as for believing in yourself, realize what you do will have effects indicating what you might call right or wrong. ultimately, it's what you do with them and the effects after, and the effects after those ad infinitum that matter. there's no cut off point. no one saying "pencils down." life's an essay you write until (and maybe after) you no body left to leave a mark. treat it as such

[8:00:18 PM] [Raeed] says:

2) the indomitability of the human spirit. from creation, humans don't stop fighting. we hold our breath until we pass out, we involuntarily start breathing again once our conscious is out of the way. from birth, we form everything we need for survival in the womb. once we're out, we already, instinctively, know how to suckle. we get food that way and survive. from there, we begin absorbing every influence around us to learn how better and longer to survive. we've reflexes for when that learning doesn't have time to reach our conscious minds (ducking and covering your head when you hear a gunshot or bomb; retracting a hand from a hot stove). in short, everything about us is geared - not only to endure, but - to prevail. thus, when your spirit feels heavy and weak, know you're continued existence is your involuntary/subconscious jumpstart: you're still alive, thus you're body's not done. so neither are you. you may not be "right" right now, but you can always work to right the near infinite later-ons. don't let fear of wrong petrify you. let it guide you to more intelligent responses. this test ain't over yet - not by a longshot

one-two, my friends

"Do you have the courage to acknowledge yourself and stand up for what's in there?" ~Evan Tanner

2009-02-14T00:47:00.000-08:00

http://messageboard.tuckermax.com/showthread.php?t=4380

this topic gets the ol' gears a workin, grinding against the harsh reality of my own contentedness and for how long i've embraced it with open arms. only recently have i started to branch out more and do more things which i felt truly emotionally and experiencially sating.

on that same board, there is a thread about "the best compliment you've ever received." one guy shared this: two guys talking as I was packing up after a show: "[suapyg] plays the drums like the police are waiting for him outside." "No, [suapyg] LIVES HIS LIFE like the police are waiting for him outside."

merely reading that fed the fizzling spark within me, inducing a flicker reflecting the potential of a roaring inferno. occasionally, i lose sight of the warmth and tenacity of that potential, but ultimately, i know it's there. and i will honor it.

i swear it.

evolutionary process

2008-11-05T16:04:00.000-08:00

i post this as an outlet for my utter disgust over the passing of proposition 8 in the lovely state of California. for those who do not know, this successful passing of this proposition means the overturning of California's previous lifting of the ban on same-sex marriage. for those uninterested, good day.

for the rest, here are some quotes from Margaret Cho's I Have Chosen to Stay and Fight which, i believe, beautifully articulate her (and, incidentally, my own) stance on same-sex marriage:

----"if we are not absolutely insistent, unflinching, strident about lifting the ban on same-sex marriage, then we might as well forfeit the Constitution, cross out all the Amendments, knock down the Statue of Liberty (it was a gift from France anyway - those peace lovers: who needs 'em?), reverse Roe v. Wade, pretende Stonewall never happened, reinstate Prohibition, deny women the vote, derail the Underground Railroad, bring back slavery, retrieve all the tea bags from Boston Harbor (actually, let them steep - gay marriage is still legal in Massachusetts, for now), give Patrick Henry death instead of liberty (he's fucking dead now, anyway), get back on the Mayflower and go back to England. the only problem would be, trying to bring the Native Americans back to life and restore their nations that we so cavalierly destroyed in our own pursuit of religious 'freedom.'
without the reality of same-sex marriage, there is no freedom. this is not an argument about homosexuality, or God, or what is in the bible, or what your moral value system is or what you feel is ethical. it is a no-argument zone. no spins here, not in the least. it is about upholding the idea that America is the representation of freedom in the world. that to be an American is to be free. unless we have same-sex marriage recognized and legalized by every state, then we are not free. we are hypocrites, for we are according freedoms to a certain group in our population while denying those same rights to others. it is discrimination, and that is that."

----"why do i work intensely for the queer community -- protest, demonstrate, enduring being called a hypocrite, not give a shit and keep going like the Engergizer Bunny?Because love is love. Love is love. Love is love. Love is love. Mother-fucker."

----"i have paintings in my bedroom, painted by a man i love more than anyone, a gay man, who depicted the death, the unfathomable loss, the cost of AIDS, and homophobia and hatred, the most expensive cruelty, the debt that will never be repaid, the pain stretched out on canvas for all to see, the unbelievable tragedy he endured during the '70s and '80s that he couldnt'even talk about, he could only paint it, because if you put words to it, that beat will fuck you up, and you will never dance again. i sleep underneath these works of art, beautiful not only because they are true, they are also born from grief that radiates fresh and hard from them even a quarter of a century later. they are the first things i see when i wake, the last thing i see before i got to sleep. i will never forget what unjust acts i witnessed as a child, against men and women who chose to be themselves. who chose to love. who loved. who fucking loved. their blood remains indelible, and even though it is not my own fucking personal blood i still feel the pain of the cut. and it hurts. nobody will know how much it hurts me. a lot. that is all i can say."

in the recent presidential election, my vote went to the platform which, among other things, supported equality in terms of those engaging in civil unions. of course, this was not the sole deciding factor, it was one of those in the forefront of my mind through my deliberations. and, while civil unions are not marriages, the platform i supported attested to ensure all the same rights which married people are entitled were to be also granted to those having civil unions. baby steps. i fervently believe this is a small step in the way of wading in the waters of freedom - the freedom of which our forefathers wrote and dreamed in saying "we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." separate but equal hasn't worked before, and it won't work now, especially when separates =/= equal. despite opposing moral convictions and religious affiliations, we are a nation. thus, we should act like one. one unit. comprised of many. thus, no single doctrine borne of a particular background can rightly govern those who take refuge underneath the communal flag. no one religion has the right, in a country founded by those who sought to indulge in religious freedom, to usurp all convictions of self-evident civil liberties. you live here, you check your nooses and pitchforks on the shore. you can be who you are, as long as who you are isn't persecutor of those who are not you. as Margaret Cho says, this is not a religious or moral issue. it is a fact.
you can't show up to a party that advocates freedom for all/all men are created equal and instate a moral dress code for everyone to get you voted most popular. that's when we go Carrie on you and slaughter you in the wake of your own false kingdom.
just saying. take that how you will.

note, in the previous paragraph, i continued to say "platform" when speaking of where went my vote. i didn't say "candidate." i didn't say "party." parties and candidates are figureheads. or, to get communication class on you, heuristic cues - shortcuts, if you will, which allow one to "[react] automatically to a usually informative trigger feature... [which] preserves crucial time, energy, and mental capacity" (Robert. B Cialdiani, Influence: Science and Practice, 17). we use terms like "Democrat" and "Republican" to reduce the time and energy we'd expend describing the stereotyped positions most people adhering to those titles generally hold. what i consider myself is irrelevant. as is the person at the forefront of the platform i support. if you're truly interested, do as i and look into the platforms behind the candidates.
anywho, i did this not to hide my beliefs and vote; i'll gladly discuss them with anyone curious enough to ask. however, i wanted to specifically serve as a sharp foil to those who are bandwagon jumpers. whether it's race, political affiliation, or whathaveyou. if one trigger decided your vote - if you voted to keep a black man out of office or put one in; if you voted republican/democratic because your family does or doesn't; if you voted for anything as petty as that, i almost want to tell you never to vote again. unless you'll change your ways, or your vote helps elect the candiate with the plan which ultimately betters this nation, don't play with the state of the nation like that. it's irresponsible. really.

one of the biggest problems today is not thinking enough or at all. Alfred North Whitehead once said, "Civilization advances by extending the number of operations we can perform without thinking about them." i believe that's true. the so-called "developed nations" are the ones with the biggest rulebooks and shiniest toys. virtually independent areas thriving under their own civil authority governed by what's right, who secure enough food for themselves and their livestock each day, who bleed blood and not money, and who entertain themselves with each other and not things are seen as primitives. we call their lack of name brand clothing sad and blame it on their being impoverished. when really, they just wear enough to keep warm and cover themselves because think more practically and less lavishly. how many people know how to repair an engine these days? how many just take it to a shop when something goes awry and get a rental car until the old's working fine again? we have warning lights in our cars which tell us when to take it to get serviced. we've developed online systems to help us get rental cars faster, but don't use the internet to figure out how to take care of our own cars.

let's get off the heuristic cues and start taking the central processing route sometimes. who knows where we'll end up. better than sitting in the backseat constantly inquiring "are we there, yet?" or even "where are we going?" stop thinking none or thinking too big. think little; think practical. think real.
but don't stop there! act! that goes for everything. start small to build up your drive. learn how to take care of something yourself. then build up. research and get involved in politics. we're not all going to be political leaders, but, as we've seen with the petition for Proposition 8 and the passing of it, concerned citizens getting involved can make just as much a difference as a figurehead in the White House. a presidential election is not a magic wand which will grant its wielder anything his or her heart desires. we've a system of checks and balances. and while the scales may seem to tip in a certain direction here or there, the president still has to pass things through the legislative branch. and, some things, won't be federally decided. if you look up what a candidate's platform is, you can see some issues will be left up to states to determine. there's still power with the people. use it.

yeah, voting's one thing. regardless if "your candidate" was elected, fight for what you believe. ever been to a rally? ever signed a petition? ever organized a group for discussion? for speaking to/with others to share your thoughts and garner support? ever write your congressmen? if you've done none of those things, you're sitting in the backseat annoying those at the wheel. voting's a start, but it's not enough. put up or shut up. and don't be discouraged. as one of my favorite quotes heralds, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." (Margaret Mead)

one-two, my friends.

feed the family

2008-08-07T20:32:00.000-07:00

Oh, warrior of light,
adorned with tattoos of shared blood,
throw down your harms;
throw out your arms and stay the fleeting Love,
ceding to the shadows
nothing

~Kyle Uriel Oslo, The War

everyone read Margaret Cho's I Have Chosen to Stay and Fight.
i've got way too much on my mind right now. it's been an enlightening summer, to say the least.

fight a war worth fighting, geniuses.

i've only just begun. take care.

"sleep time is over, story time is now!"

2008-07-21T19:10:00.000-07:00

following this introduction are two short pieces which i feel might fit into a romantic short story. comments and criticism welcome, as always. oh, and note, the first will be found in the second, but i wrote the first one before the second, yet found it could also fit within the second. not wishing to deprive it of it's individual potency, i chose to present it first, then allow you to see how it fits in with the second composition. enjoy. or disdain. whichever.

1)
thinking about seeing you again - it's exhilarating. when you get off work, i'm just around back, vibing to our number one station, accompanied by the mental percussion of each second bringing you closer to me, and the steps of your feet treading the cool, wet asphalt paving your way to me.
you toss your bag in the bed as you open the cabin door, smiling.
"hey, you"
overcome with a light smile of my own, "hey. you hungry?"
with a light shaking of your head, you close the door. "nah, we'll eat at my place."
we pull out into the night, making our way to what's to be the final destination of the night - stopping at your dining table to detour for pre-couch movie-to-slumber nourishment

2)
“No –”I begin, lightly blocking her hand from disheveling my hair, much to my own dismay, knowing well the bliss borne of her hands upon my receptive flesh. Answering the question her eyes began to beg, I continue, almost smirking as I press the tip of my nose into her inner cheekbone, noses grazing as it passes.
“I want to look my best for you tomorrow night at dinner; I really do. But, because I know you’ve been patient, after dinner, we’ll have some together time which’ll make it worth the wait:

Me, the pressed businessman closing a deal at a top-notch restaurant on my last night on the road; you, the chef looking to impress. You insist I stay for dessert – your specialty. But, with a long drive ahead come morning, I respectfully decline, making my way to the door. You cut me off. With one hand on the breast of my suit jacket, you make your final plea. I catch your eyes for the first time. They don’t let go. I find I’ve agreed to take you up on your offer. Under your spell, I begin to make a move back for my table, but your hand proves and impassible barrier. Gaze never torn from your own, I notice their subtle direction. ‘It’s almost closing. Give me twenty– thirty minutes.’ I believe I manage to eke out a nod.

Thinking about seeing you again - it's exhilarating. when you get off work, i'm just around back, vibing to the radio’s song, accompanied by the mental percussion of each second bringing you closer to me, and the steps of your feet treading the cool, wet asphalt paving your way to me.
you toss your bag in the bed as you open the cabin door, smiling.
‘hey, you.’
overcome with a light smile of my own, ‘Hey. So, where to?’
with a light shaking of your head, you close the door. ‘We'll eat at my place.’
we pull out into the night, making our way to what's to be the final destination of the night - stopping at your dining table to detour for pre-couch movie-to-slumber nourishment”

take care.

my turn

2008-07-21T19:05:00.000-07:00

a poem of mine. i guess you could call it a poem. i wouldn't mind some critiquing. fire at will.

~*~love-worn~*~

involuntarily,
she nests.
her influence seeps and distends,
invigorating -

a deeper tissue massage,
thoughts - like fingers -
work core muscles -
under pressure, yet lightened

by sweetness of deed and timbre,
embrace and smile's warmth,

and by passion, given earnest
though unreservedly.

Irrational Exuberance weds Sedation:

Raging rivers, red and abstract,
Engorge their beds;

My soul sails on the breeze
Borne of her tranquil air.

Though grey paints the face blue,
Smile a pretty smile,
Smile a pretty tear:

Seams undone –

Love wears well

a poem

2008-06-16T02:08:00.000-07:00

"Love Requited"

I lust for her;
her light, cool fingers
working an infantile tranquility over the whole of my body,
then gently closing my eyelids, opening my eyes to
a dimension of infinite intimacy:

sight beyond sight,
hearing beyond hearing,
feeling -
naked consciousness;
sensual, carnal mentality
stripped of conscious adulteration -

feeling yielding only
to the potential wear of my own fingers,
digging, digging,
and the blinding dawn
of the envious -

siblings cosmic
who seek keep us apart -
me from her,
me from me.

I lust her.
Anosmic cadaverous insomnia,
a most painful chasm
barring from lust
love requited.

~Kyle Uriel Oslo

versus

2008-06-13T15:41:00.000-07:00

continuing from where the last post left off, here we go. the issues of the spider-butterfly concept:

in the position of the two boys, what do you do? do you save the butterfly from the spider, or do you let nature take its course?

now i know there are grey areas (i don't expect people to line up on one side and never take a position which the other side would) and there's no concrete right or wrong answer (well, maybe some wrong ones) to how to deal with every single imaginable situation life could throw at us, but it's just food for thought and what's been sustaining my hyperactive mind lately. bear with me.

say you choose to save the butterfly, claiming it's your responsibility, granted by God, to have dominion over the animals and see to what's ultimately best for the world you all share and to distribute the best life-propagating strategies. okay. so, how do you know/trust saving that butterfly will do that. yes, it has immediate effects, often seen as good - a life is saved. however, you're taking food from another. and it happened naturally, so wouldn't it be seen as right or meant to be? perhaps you say you were put there to witness the happenings as so you might prevent the atrocity. how do you know it wasn't part of some higher plan for you to appreciate life all the more, witnessing its lack/dissipating in the body of something just as alive as yourself?
now i know these are creatures in nature, and many might say if it deals with them, let them do their thing; it's part of the cycle of life and whatnot. but, consider the ripple effect. just like that movie The Butterfly Effect. everything you do affects the outcome of the future; every action dictating a thousand possible futures, only one of which will be enacted. also, think about it on the human scale. in the human world, the butterfly saver would be the one who condones modern medicine to thrwart the natural killers (viruses, bacteria, and the like). you save lives by whatever means, even if it means killing (killing the viruses and such). think even bigger. does that also mean you choose to give all of your own organs to save tons more lives? it has the biggest immediate payoff. think about it. you donate all your organs to patients in desparate need of organ donors. this not only saves [number equal to the number of organs you donate] lives at the expense of your one death, you save a near infinite number more lives by knocking those first patients off the "need organ" list, so any other organs donated by someone else go to those who would've been 2nd, 3rd, or so on. immediate payoff and saving of countless lives just by your own death. one death = tons of living. do you condone that, butterfly saviors? where does it end? if you follow that, then we all live just to die for each other. where's the cutoff? think about that movie Wanted. you kill one assassin, you save tons of lives. that spider may die, but think of all the butterflies who'll live. so, do you follow that? you might say "you don't have to kill them. just dismantle/disable/lock up the assassins." costs more to have all these jails. takes away from helping people in other ways if the governments have all these jails popping up to run and take care of these killers. money from trials and a whole lot more, too. crazy stuff. we'd either have infringement of civil liberties (think more guantanamo bay areas) or no money to do anything but build jails, take care of those in them, and hold trials. all because there's no limit on the extremes to which people will go to save these butterflies. newborns die all the time. stillbirths are real. how do you know it's not part of a higher agenda for someone to die during a mugging so they can find peace, and there's one less person eating up resources. overpopulation's a problem anyway. aren't murderers helping to balance things out? i know the last few statements seem a bit extreme, but so do the methods of trying to save all those not directly killing. something to think about.

now, for the other side. you watch. you let the spider kill the butterfly. you don't interact with nature. you let it run it's course, and don't fight the rhythm of the music. all well and good. but, what about when your neighbor's attacked by a bear? sure, he probably did something to antagonize it, but that's his business. the bear's protecting its own. do you watch? he calls your name, desperate to escape the fatality of the mauling. nah. it's nature. two creatures interacting. cycle of life. by dying, he's gonna feed a ton of organisms, fertilize the soil, and serve a higher purpose than you could grasp. you can't tell how something's going to affect the future. you have moments to react. you let it happen, you'll never know the alternate reality borne of the other decision, but you have to live with your choice. that guy's dead. think more personally. your most beloved contracts ulcerative colitis (first disease to pop into my head, heh). now, without medication or surgery, he or she will most certainly die, and the procession will be part of the most uncomfortable, most horrendous experiences faced by this person. now, following the trend of not interfering with nature, you can't have a surgery or give the person the meds to control things. nah. UC develops almost randomly. it just occurs in nature. not hereditary. it just happens. higher order plan? maybe so. so you have to content yourself with accepting it's fate and let your beloved die a horrible, yet easily avoidable death. now ain't that some [expletive deleted]?

yeah, just the rantings of a madboy. i know every person's going to sway from side to side, depending on the situation. but the initial concept made me think about that. heck, i don't even know what i'd do in half of those situations. when i get sick, i'm generally stubborn and leave it up to my body's natural defenses to take care of me, even if it means prolonged suffering. i'm just thickheaded when it comes to that. yet, if i see anyone about whom i care, even a complete stranger, in a life-threatening situation, i'm going to act to prevent the loss of a life if i can. now, i'll try to go for the least painful (as far as my eyes and supposition will allow me to see) choice. i'll try to save a life without killing another. i wouldn't assassinate 1 guy to save a ton. but i'd do whatever i could to incapacitate that guy. i consider myself somewhat of a pascifist. or maybe i just resort to force only when no other option proves effective or reasonable. but i don't think i could kill anyone. i take that back. in blind rage, who knows? come at a loved one with intention to kill, i'll intervene. i hope i could manage it without the loss of life, but if it appears i can't, i believe i have what it takes to end a life. i just hope i could find an alternative method if the time ever arises. so yeah, even i, the proposer of all these questions and conflicts, am on the fence. just throwing stuff out there. it was on my mind and i just wanted to get it out there.

i'm going to go work on my story some more, or possibly draw. i just need to do something a little lighter. the music to which i'm listening is too light for me to be thinking so dark and heavily. talk amongst yourselves.
take care!

the spider and the butterfly

2008-06-13T13:31:00.000-07:00

i once heard a tale.
what made this tale so distinct was its verisimilitude - it's lack of frills and plot devices. it was a simple, yet powerful tale which, in the 6+ years it's been since initially hearing it, has not eluded me in the bowels of forgetfulness commonly inhabited by the trivial and inconsequential. in fact, the tale and the themes or ideals it boasts revisited me last night as lucidity eluded me in both mental and physical fatigue. as i engaged in my pre-slumber rituals, i pondered the sharply contrasting ideals borne of the tale, and sought to align myself with one of them. my position - at least, at present - is irrelevant. for the time being, i merely wish to share the tale (as best i can), and offer up conceivable arguments for and against the varying sides. due to the length of both the related tale and the offered arguments, i'll split this into two posts: the story, then the arguments.
(note, this version of the story is painted by my own authorial colorings. the theme and events portrayed are pretty much perfectly translated, but i'm relating the tale in my own tongue/style)

two boys were walking through a utopian garden - lush and vibrant with color and life, all seemingly complementing the beauty of the rest and the entire. their stroll came to an abrupt end as one spotted activity in a spider's web. the spider was making its way to an entangled butterfly. he moved toward the web for closer inspection. the butterfly was struggling with a tenacity familiar only those living creatures who can feel death's hold tightening with every passing second. the spider appeared knowingly victorious, taking its time in its approach. as the spider reached its victim, preparing to ensnare it in the web-spun coccon which would serve for its entombment, the nearer boy bore his fingers into the spider's web, destroying an area larger than both the spider and the butterfly, halting the spider's procession as it struggled to maintain balance on the altered web structure. suddenly, the hand retracted from the hole, just before the boy could swipe his hand at the spider and save the butterfly. the other, the nearer boy's brother, had yanked the butterfly's would-be savior back before thrusting him to the ground. "What are you doing?!" he shot, attempting to regain his bearings. his eyes widened, having gorged themselves on the horror still unfolding - the spider, so near to the butterfly, was able to secure itself by hanging on to the butterfly and the undisturbed portion of the web. now, fearful of losing its dinner and the rest of its home, it toiled with a mad quickness in subduing its prey, which was fighting all the more vigorously with the taste of escape on the tip of its proboscis. the boy made an attempt to stand and force his way back to the web to halt the abomination in progress, but was knocked back to his previous crab-walk position by his brother's foot upon his chest. "I'm trying to save that butterfly!" the grounded brother pleaded. with a wild, defiant look about him foreign to his face, the standing brother fired, "Don't you get it?! If you save that butterfly, the spider will starve! Is that what you want?" silence. the grounded boy could muster no words with which to respond. he could only watch as the butterfly's movements slowed with each bite suffered from the spider. a retaliatory fervor ignited in his eyes. seeking to offer his shattered brother's resolve, the spider's savior uttered up a sympathetic "Hey, don't beat yourself up over this. One of them has to die in order for the other to live. If you save the butterfly, the spider will starve. At least this way is in the natural order of things." a quiet rage was brewing inside the speechless brother. he slowly stood up, looking only at the ground. his eyes scanned upward bit by bit, almost afraid to behold what had become of the butterfly. finally, he saw the motionless corpse tied fast to the spider's web, the victor toiling more slowly, its victory assured. his face lit up with rage and he lit into his brother, driving him into the ground. he assailed him with a flurry of pounds to his brother's blocking forearms. "You idiot! I wanted to save them both!" his brother would catch him by his wrists, then throw him over, allowing him to take the higher position. switching his hold, grabbing his both of his brother's wrists with one hand, he freely beat on his face with the other hand, clenched into a tight fist. when he felt his brother's resistance weakening and saw his squirms subsided, he stopped. angrily, tears streaming down his face, he spat out the same justification he'd used before. his brother, face equally wet with tears, bit his lip to obscure and restrict its quivering. he would say nothing. he could say nothing. he desperately sought refutation, but it was in vain. in his head, only the biting words of his brother existed, resounding painfully, seemingly echoing louder and louder amidst the silence in which the two walked.

(what'd you think? of the tale itself, and how i presented it?
hit me up. take care)

show and tell

2008-05-24T21:14:00.000-07:00

my first illustration up. it's what i composed when miffed about racial prejudice, about which i wrote in that 'of resolute consciousness' post. the top one is the entire composition, the bottom is a close-up of what i feel is the more powerful focus. in case it's hard to make out, the whole thing reads "USA's 'Civil'-LIE zation: Sucking the Color out of 'us' since 1776!" i felt it necessary to satirize the civil aspect, when people do more to divide themselves up into cliques than be brotherly. similarities are too often over looked in spite of differences. then, i decided to emblazen the truth of the LIE within the nation's claim to hold in its best interests the "huddled masses." just letting off some steam. the straw reads "racially discriminating assimilator." that's how modern discrimination is justified. if people merely try to conform everyone to the same specifications, or attempt to mechanize everything, weeding out the different by way of protocol and dress codes, then that's just discrimination by assimilation (and excommunication of those who refuse to assimilate). anywho, note how the US is the biggest thing on the globe. that's how i feel it acts sometimes in regard to a lot of things. and it's notorious for its culture-sucking trends and doctrines. if you look at the 2nd picture, you can notice how the people and their hair is only partially colored, their ethnicity and culture being sucked off of them, leaving a safe white. they are going so far as bracing themselves to avoid entirely be sucked up in the culture vacuum. their attire is already safe white - being indocrtrinated by the media machine. i debated between using 1776 and 1492, but i went with the former because it wasn't technically 'usa' until then. i was going to use 1492 because that's when a lot of it started. native american culture (and people) were raped by european ambition and greed. bleh, at the moment, i'd rather not get into a rant on the atrocities committed on this continent. just wanted to post up the pic because i said i would, and because i was already using my scanner for something else. expect a comic-esque rendition of myself as my profile picture. i just need to resize it. i could do it now, but i'm engaged by friendly conversation.

take care, all!

road trippin

2008-05-20T21:36:00.000-07:00

dear everything, i love driving at night.

heck, i love moving. being in motion, i feel like i'm doing something; as if progression is made and i'm evoking a change. i've been known to go for the long walk around adjacent neighborhoods or the whole of the college campus at unorthodox times or during what many would consider inclement weather. but a closet obsession of mine which works wonders for my unsettled soul has to be taking a long drive at night, little regarding posted traffic laws.

tonight was simply beautiful: black as my often malicious heart and the thoughts with which it accessorizes; air still, but carrying a cool, gentle moistness not unlike a lover's nose, grazing your cheek following a most sensually stimulating embrace speaking of passions too bold to express by tongue. for some reason i sought not to question, rather simply appreciate, the ground breathed a thick, steam-like smoke the while i traveled. talk about ambience! imagine a dreamscape - an endless night broken only by the immediate clouds upon which your vessel rode, blazing through the darkness - a darkness borne of internal demons and external evils.

this was my escape. overwhelmed with concern regarding the resolution of my consciousness (and the issues related in my post bearing a similar title) and my mother's apparent contented justification of worldly ills, i desperately needed release. i was completely incapable of working on my story, and all i wanted to draw was of destruction. i began pacing. i could not even sit still long enough to compose a social commentary on the destruction of valiance and humanity. grabbing my cd notebook, said my goodbye to my mother and bid my stressors adieu. armed with aggressive alternative pop-punk, i tore through my city on this beautiful night and raced my mind for control over my emotions.
outrunning my brooding disquietude, i calmed, growing appreciative of this place i call home and the life and mind i possess. in my journey, i even came across an indoor skydiving facility i plan to hit up with some friends. i passed by beautiful possible picnic areas. i've always wanted a spontaneous picnic with my closest friends. also, a few of us have planned to go skydiving for close to two years. speeding past the dark realities and darker ruminations of means to serve the perceived necessary vigilante justice for the wrongs too many are quietly accepting as canon in pursuit of American [nightmares], i found peace. i found inspiration for joy with those i love and cherish. i found beauty in the city many consider devoid of attraction for youthful. i'm respecting my roots - geographic and personal.

i enjoyed that trip through the full diapason of human emotion. windows down, wind rushing in through both the car and my hole-ridden mentality, i received both a rush and an equating with the cooling breeze which quells even the most distempered flame. i only hope i can provide the same tranquilizing effects to a friend - old or not yet met - ever in need as this night did for me. oh, and i also hope i dont get addicted to that. "[one]-twenty on the dash, and constantly mashin; 'why don't we slow down,' they be constantly askin" doesn't appeal to the pigs in any city. i also don't want my tolerance to grow too high. if that escape starts not to work, who knows what evils i might turn to for solace? sex? drugs? crime?! oh noes!!

cats be wildin...
take care.

i'd like to return to tha cl-- to tha cl-- to tha classic

2008-05-20T15:53:00.000-07:00

i consider my upbringing most fortunate, for i was raised in a house of love, good homecooked food, and the best music from 60s and 70s, which was never further away than the flip of a swtich. from inexplicable extended family cookouts where we would all inevitably dance the freak or the electric slide, to sitting 'round the kitchen, before, during, and after dinner, radio blasting all the while. it's actually sad i started to let go of that the older i grew and more "independent" i thought i was.
fortunately, as much as i sought independence, family trips to see our extended family still brought us together for a good 3 hours each way. that was plenty of time to grow bored with whatever handheld i brought to pass the time, and to lose myself in family conversation and "slow jams and solid gold oldies." i began to associate my grandparents with good music and big smiles, as much as i claimed i hated the patronization and small talk stemming from our visits.

a few years ago, a dear one aroused my interest in Dean Martin. as my affinity for his music grew, i also caught wind of Frank Sinatra's work. also moving. last night -slash- this morning, my old roommate (wow it's odd saying that) sent me a cover of a Sinatra classic, "Bang Bang." check it out if you can. it's beautiful. the cover got me to look into the Sinatra performance. sexy. and thus began my day's throwback appreciation.

i had the pleasure of catching the end of Dazz Band's "Let it Whip" when moving the truck from behind my mother's car earlier today. twas grand; a portal back to the first time i truly listened to the lyrics and immersed myself in the club scene the song depicts. i longed for that then, as i did today. it was just what i needed to set off my morning. the rest of my day was pretty chill. some chores, a little job hunting, some interpersonal interest. twas a good day. then, on the way back home, i just happened to catch a song which transported me back to the first day of my sophomore year in college. we'd just moved into our dorm room, and one of my suitemates was spamming the chorus to that "get out my face" soulja boy song. i knew from that moment it would be a great year. the song was hilarious then, as was it the moment i identified the song on the radio. i sunk my head, shaking it as i turned up the volume - almost ashamed how much i enjoyed the ludicrously vernacular song.

after arriving home, i was pretty pumped. however, due to internal conditions, i found my energy levels wavering. most surprisingly, in instinctively climbed over the arm of the couch and curled up on the cushion next to my mother. closing my eyes, i gradually stretched my head out onto her lap. her hand rubbing my shoulder, my consciousness lasted no more than a few minutes. just before my lapse into lighter realms, i thought back a few summers to when similar conditions crippled my body. at an all time low, i curled up on my mother's lap and she lulled me to sleep as she had done so many years prior. i realize again, as i did that summer, just how much solace one's "family" can provide.
i denote "family" as i do because there are an infinite number of "family" compositions a person can find and come to identify as his or her own. i consider mine to extend past my parents and sister, out to those extended family members who played a considerable role in shaping me, and those select few who, though in no way are related to me (at least as far as i'm aware), have been there to support my growth and stability; to keep me going, and to nurture my own nurturing.

i honestly believe my "family" will always be all i need to keep going. though at times we may be zones apart, i know they will eternally be found in my corner. i must never neglect my roots if i hope to truly blossom.

for the past two months, i've been stuck on classic hip hop stylings. it just feels good. so excuse me while i revel in some more feel good vibes to accompany my story-writing and illustrating.
take care!

of resolute consciousness

2008-05-18T18:49:00.000-07:00

as of late, i've grown increasingly aware of a mechnization of sorts - or at least the desire for mechnization of we organics. initially, i thought myself petty and simple-minded - only considering perceived residual sentiments of racial discrimination toward those with far more pigments (as a friend might describe it). shortly after dismissing it, a similar desire for mechnization/universality was observed in stigma surrounding a pigment-laden acquaintance of mine. i was heated. i tried to shirk it off, saying "when it rains, it pours." that was, to steal a line from the Pokémon series, "not very effective." now, i'm usually a racially laid back person. i laugh at lewd, generally offensive racial jokes drawing from stereotypes. i'm well aware of my own personal affinity for Kool-Aid and chicken-laden dishes. not going to lie. my favorite flavor of just about every fruit-flavored candy is watermelon. i laugh at black jokes as much as the next guy. i also laugh at jokes directed to just about every ethnicity across the board, as long as they aren't stemming from stigma or degredation. i'm usually one of the last to "play the race card" or hop on the discriminated victim bandwagon. heck, i even get annoyed with my family when they blindly hop on the bandwagon supporting any black person to make it big in his or her arena (be it politics, sports, or "reality" tv singing), simply because of degree of pigmentation. but, the glaring, though subtle discrimination noted in both my own and my friend's life really permeated my laid back defenses and nestled under my skin.

in case you're wondering, let me spell out the "discrimination" about which i'm referring. to you, it may seem like nothing. that's fine. if this was all, i'd have held my tongue (er, fingers) and labeled myself hypersensitive. but, there's more. so, i figure i'll move into the rest by lining up all the instigators, so maybe i won't be viewed as hostile or too sensitive. if you still feel the same way after i do, then i can do nothing about that. nor do i wish to. just figure i'll explain my rationale for why i feel as i do. life's all about the journey, is it not? (i don't care how you answer that; it is)

so, upon coming home, the issue of my employment (or, lack thereof, to be more specific) arose. before i could even relate my hopeful areas of employment, my parents dictated my need to do away with my afro before setting out on the job hunt. i love my afro. it represents who i am and how i live. it's not orderly, but it's neat in what it is (i try to take good care of it). it's rounded, full, and shiny-ish. i wash it, condition it, and moisturize it. there's maintenance involved, but not too much. same with me. i'm stand-offish as all getout and i love to be cryptic for crypticism's sake. and to screw with the heads of those seeking to "figure [me] out." but, i'm a simple guy who's easy to get along with and talk to. i'm laid back and cool on most topics, so i don't need fretting over or to be treated delicately. i'm unorthodox, yet not overly bizarre. just like the afro. my areas are neat, but loosely so. my rooms have been presentable (and often neater than any suitemates or roommates), but not alphabetized and strategically arranged. everything is in a sensical area. it works. just like the afro. however, my mother hates my hair. she wants it always braided. i had a talk with her and discovered she wants the braided up, clean cut, neat guy she sees in the picture of me from senior prom and junior marshalls to be what everyone else sees. now, i understand, as a parent, she wants the world to see me as she does - at my "best." but that's not at all who i am. i've worn a suit 2, maybe 3 times in my life's short entirety. i've worn a tie less than 10 times. i abhor arranged photos. passionately. so, basically, i'm not that guy my mother wants me to be. and, apparently, i'm not what white, employing America wants, either. as my father suggests, "no one's going to hire [me] if [i] walk in there looking like a hoodlum." correct me if i'm wrong, but aren't most mugshots of black guys representative of one sporting a near military cut, or with cornrows? rarely have i ever seen a black guy caught on film for "hoodlum"esque activity with an afro. maybe it's just framing by the local media. who knows? a similar thing happened to a friend. she was eyed intensely when trying to get job applications because she sports a lip ring and she's Indian (convenience store, not casino. see? lighthearted joke based off non-contemputal stereotype! yeah, i'll refer to Native Americans, as such. i know a lot of Indians from India - the real one - so i'll refer to them as they should be).

i hate that. how a person looks has nothing to do with work ethic. there have been stories of guys off the street who normally look like the trash in which they sleep, who get one suit and start making a living at notable office jobs (i've seen the Oprah episodes to know - my mother loves that show). that suit got them the jobs. however, they normally don't look like that. yet, they had the responsibility and drive to get the job done. they had that before the suit. it wasn't a part of the suit. like superheroes, the ability lies within the person, not the costume. an afro does not make me better or worse suited than anyone else to ring up books or electronics. the color of her skin and her lip ring do not hinder her from doing anything, except in the eyes of those who believe there is reason to spurn/cautiously eye those who are different. i can't count the times i'm watched in a store by non-blacks because i am black. to screw with them, after being notably eyed from the start, i keep glaring at them. or i'll dip between areas. if they want a show, i'll give them one. but i won't be a statistic. i once read in a sociology class about the acceptable/amiable african-american. this guy, tired of being feared when getting out late from his job by other people at the company or nearby areas who did not know him, tried to think of ways to diminish some of the stigma surrounding him. so, he did a study, where he would whistle popular tunes by white authors and wear stereotypically "white" garments. he noted, in doing this, women clutching their purses less tightly. or people walking less briskly when he was present. he saw fewer glances back over the shoulder. and, on a few occasions, could lightly hear the other person whistling the same tune. while that's one way to do it, i got to thinking: why should i have to appear to like the same music, or to appear unusually jubilant to be non-threatening? why am i threatening otherwise? this led me to believe the problem was not solely mine to resolve.
i used to try unusually hard in the beginning of school years to distinguish myself from the stereotypical black student. i'd volunteer in class and show i was well versed in the subjects taught. i'm all-too-familiar with the gradual softening of instructors' faces when they realize i'm somewhat of an oreo (black outside, white inside). or when they saw i wasn't the black guy who didn't want to learn who was bound to cause disruptions in class. from analytical eyes, staring through me, i grew to receive warm eyes, happy to look to me to help class move along by answering a question too long gone unanswered. now, i don't do that. let them see on their own. no more extra effort trying to prove myself to others as some one to be considered warmly. i'm going to do me, regardless. if you like, then cool. if not, cool. don't let it affect business. i try to treat everyone i meet with the same warmness and respect i give my friends. if teachers and employers can't do the same, then i guess i've something to teach them.

okay, so, after learning about the silent but glaring (and i do mean that in both senses of the word) discrimination of my friend, i got to work on a drawing project - a social commentary satirizing western culture's (yet, highlighting american "culture"'s) desire to universalize people and things. i'll scan it and get it up when i can. i put a lot into it, and actually felt drained upon completing it. i guess that's how it feels to go all-in on something. i realize some flaws in it, but i think that's good. i'll go over them in more detail when i actually get it up (ha, that's what she said. wait - aww).

well, after the initial two instances, things just kept popping up to remind me of these same sentiments. these things, out of context, seem like nothing. but, in the context of being rubbed the wrong way by prejudicial bias, they added up. they range from an episode of scrubs where a sous chef making a wedding cake noted they didn't have black or latino figurines to go atop the cake (but only the white figurines), to watching the music video for Daft Punk's "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger," in which the blue alien band members are gased, put in a chamber, and colored white and black, and have all their memories recolored, as well. even the death of the "black" Autobot in the Transformers movie (he was proficient in breakdancing, and spoke using terms such as "what's crackin" and "this looks like a sweet place to kick it). he was the only Autobot to die. just a familiar movie stereotype. the daft punk video watched tonight is what pushed me to write this. i'd been thinking these things since that first talk with my parents about my "hoodlum" status. i drew the picture after the discrimination of my friend. and now i'm writing after seeing how common signs of desired universality are. it's like people believe the only way to get along is if we're all the same, or fit a certain mold.

bleh, i'm tired of ranting. just wanted to get this out and off my chest. who knows what good it'll do, but at least i'm not staying completely silent. let's hope my next post is a bit less vent-y. heh, lame coffee joke. okay, take care. out.

****edit: the drawing is up. Saturday, May 24, 2008's post, "show and tell"

anesthesia for mechanization

2008-05-13T11:34:00.000-07:00

today yields an awkward scheduling, but i feel it should prove good metonymy for the "today" for which i've prepared. let's hope i don't disappoint such an ambitiously beautiful mistress.

am i correct to defend the fist that holds this pen?

2008-05-08T20:30:00.000-07:00

drawing is one of the only things in life about which i am wholly, utterly, and completely passionate. i mean, i care about a ton of things. i'm impassioned on a number of subjects/issues. however, i honestly believe the greatest part of my person lives in and is borne of my affinity for creating. however, most unfortunately, my muse - at least so it seems - is not as enamored with me as i am with her.

i've grown a little familiar with one-sided relationships. friends speak to me about experiencing them with significant others, while i've known a few myself - with friends, significant others, and muses. regardless of the specific case, they suck. no one wants to give him or her self in its entirety, only to receive an occasional smiling upon or a lackluster sense of attachment. it's degrading. imagine the lovestruck giver, currently dry and emaciated after having poured out the contents of his or her being - the very soul of the enamored - at the foot of the desired, only to receive in return a half-hearted "hey, thanks for everything. here's a cookie." or maybe, even worse, "oh, hey. didn't see you there."

i've been drawing daily. i like this. however, it's come to my attention, my skills are deteriorating. not sure why that is, seeing how often i'm caught breathing life into stray marks and flimsy paper. it's not as though i'm neglecting my abilities. i'm doing all i can to nurture them. i guess this must be a watered down version of how parents feel when their kids aren't living up to their potential. heh, if only we - that is, parents of lackluster children and i - could just follow the Purple's suggestion for disappointing offspring: waste 'em and start over.

seeing as i'm not sure how to go about the process of "wasting" my artistic prowess (and i mean "wasting" in the sense of eradicating), then beginning with them anew, i guess i'll just suck it up. at least i'm doing newer and bigger things. who knows, maybe it's just an off day. oh, it better be.

as of late, i've been simply infatuated with the word "edgy." i mean it in the tough, rough around the edges, sort of aesthetic appeal sense. prior to last night, i can honestly say i just about never used it. yet, since i started, i'm hooked. it's just perfect for describing the hard-nosed look i'm going for in my latest drawing project. and, since i've mostly been working on that, i guess i've had numerous opportunities to flaunt the word. i just hope i don't milk it. ain't nothing worse than semantic satiation of a word you like. sort of like "epic." what happened there? everyone started using it. now it's virtually meaningless. lamesauce supreme.

sadly, i think that's it. guess i just wanted to get my [temporary] drawing ineptitude of my chest and share my affinity for the word - er, for that one word. okay, guess i'm done. now for some real writing. i'm gonna go work on furthering the story to my drawing project. more deets on both later, most likely. i mean, what else is this site for?

take care. out.

return to renew

2008-05-06T22:23:00.000-07:00

Summer having just begun, I’m adjusting to longer days and less-hectic environment of Fayettevillian suburbia. However, reminded of “Spartan simplicity” and lightly taunted by the Walden-esque retreat of a dear friend (oh, how you do have all the fun), I have decided, in addition to working and seeing friends, to tear away from the technological babysitters who raised me like aunts and uncles (though I’m using one now to pen this), and give more respects to the children I’ve borne and fostered in those rare times I’ve previously spent away from them. I’m speaking of my affinities for drawing, writing, adventuring, and simply losing myself in thought for hours on end.

Just twelve hours ago, around 3 this morning, I deeply engaged myself in the unrestricted wandering of my thoughts. This trek lasted from around 3 until just about 5. Though I only circumnavigated the world consisting of my parents’ den, kitchen, and dining room, mentally, I made the hike through 2 years of my (possible) future. In doing so, I saw (possible) fruits of my fostered children: improved and (actually) acknowledged artistry, and a bit of travel. However, I noticed my writing was notably absent. Today, I decided to alter that future and add my “voice” to the pretty face I imagined myself growing into (a boy can dream, can’t he?).

Contemplating how I might live life were I to embark on my own Walden-esque vacation, I found my foster children topping the list of daily activities. Of course, this only echoes the feeling of discontent I have with their insufficiency in my life. So, already having decided yesterday I would draw for at least an hour everyday to keep myself sharp, trying new things, and occupied by the non-electronic, I figured I could also add reading and writing to my list of things to do when I’m not out in the streets. Having saved my literary anthologies from by my British and American Lit classes, I’ve plenty of great works to engage and inspire me.
So, here I am, “writing.” Er, bathroom break. Okay. Most likely, I’ll be doing these entries (I just now decided I’ll try to do these writings a few times a week; probably not daily, but at least once a week. Maybe) in the evenings, to record the days’ events. So, here we go. Exposition over, exhibiting initiated.

This morning, around 6:30, I went outside. Earth-shattering news? No. But, this is how I plan to start this “writing,” so shut up. Once outside, I decided to greet the early morning with which I’ve lost contact for the past academic year (staying up until 2 or 3 am with 9:10 and 10:15 classes, there was no way I was getting up at 5 or 6 to greet no dawn). I absorbed the barely discernible moistening of my parents’ driveway by the morning dew. I spun and swayed to the songs of birds, reveling in the push of the asphalt up against my socked feet (I should have been barefoot, I know). Then, witnessing what I believe to be a robin, slowly fluttering past me, I was reminded of the philosophy of Dickensonian Evanescence (it holds true beauty and worth are most honestly and wholly valued only in the passing of the live event).

I fondly remembered my first shooting star, seen with one of my best friends (for whom, coincidentally, it was also the first witnessed shooting star), lying in the bed of my father’s truck, lakeside. What a great second that was. Turning to see the morning sunrise, I thought how great it would be to share that with a number of my closest friends, just talking and reveling in the lapse of coherence or sanity prevalent in the case of the lack of sleeping which must have occurred for all of us to actually see a sunrise (we never sleep before 2am).

Holding these ideas in tow as I pondered what was on my mind, scrounging for writing material, I thought about the nature of relationships. And that is where it starts.

I don’t mean relationships exclusively as in boyfriends and girlfriends. I mean in general. For instance, my first thoughts led me to what was perceived as a latching period, where I was fixating on any peer with whom I was growing informationally or emotionally close. I believed I was interested in practically everyone. It was sickening and highly annoying. Boy was I happy when I realized I had, not romantic interest in everyone around me, but an appreciation for exhibitions of intimacy.

Okay, let’s take a second to define “exhibitions of intimacy.” By it, I don’t mean anything sexually explicit. Well, I should probably say, I don’t “just” mean that. Rather, I’m talking about getting close to someone; those times where you realize, in a moment of Evanescence, the true form of the relationship between yourself and a dear friend. I mean, just think of a time where you found yourself on top of a bed – be it of thread-counts numbering in the hundreds or lush grasses conforming to your frames – lying on your back with someone of either gender (independent of your sexual orientation) with whom you are closely affiliated or bonded, meshing words and souls, looking up – not so much at the ceiling or sky, but through it, peering into the realm where the play of your dialogues is performed, tearing your eyes away from the intangible show only to gauge your company in search of a curt smile following a playfully cutting remark or a radiant warmth borne of an emotional understanding.

I don’t see myself as a flirtatious or frisky (yeah, I’m bringing it back) person by any stretch of the imagination. But I really do like being wholly engaged, and simultaneously returning the favor. I love losing hours of my days in conversation with dear friends. The people I know are pretty amazing. They really are. Thus, in addition to spending part of my days with pen/pencil in hand, or fingers stretched out over these keys, or infinite instants lived, filling my grey matter with millions of memories of those who matter, I plan to keep in touch with these great people who are currently physically displaced from me. In the down time of my nights, just before hopping aboard the dreamland express, I’ll unwind with some networking. Drop me a line. Tell me what’s good. Heck, “write me a hate letter, dude – I’ll write you back.” I adore correspondence.

I guess this concludes my first writing of the summer. ‘Twas pretty long, including the expository intro. Just a lot of pointless rambling about random and insignificant thoughts. Oh well. Enjoy. Or disdain. Your choice.

In the future, there may be short stories, poems, other essays, and random excerpts from the aforementioned project types as works in progress. Hope you’ll stick around. If not, at least I’m getting practice with fluidity and various structures. Anywho, I’m done. Need to finish my designs for dsr and that shirt.

Take care. Out.