supposedly there comes a point in one’s life where situations come together with the seemingly charming purpose of uniting the tender fibers of everyday life.

perhaps we’ve all come to see supposedly as a more elegant version of “not really.” but such moments or days or months or years are meant to be chased with the same mindset as a young high school graduate chases a summer love he knows he cannot catch, place in a glass jar, and shield from whatever may weather the rest of the world. they are meant to be fought for–in the same way a young athlete vies for a goal worth dying for but nevertheless unattainable. life is a game best played with a handicap–a handicap assigned by some greater and more knowledgable person [the one inside us] and hidden by a far weaker individual [that which others see]. essentially–we hold questions but fear the honesty that is necessary to admit we have few of the answers.

even my pretentious self has grown tired of saying “this world is…” but tonite this world really is an interesting place. i’ve messed a few things up and hurt a few people. i’ve moved away and forgotten about many and missed a precious few. i’ve slowly grown accustomed to all you can eat and shared bath. i’ve held off on laundry and collars. by the way, some writers only compile lists of items that share a certain level of importance. this list is not one such list. i’m lost but i’m finding out more than i ever knew.

i’ve met people that are intelligent. that care about certain things and don’t care you what you think of these things. sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s annoying. but i’d rather be annoyed than dulled by repetitive foolery. i’ve found questions but i’ve also developed a few good answers. i’m almost at the “why we do what we do.” probably because we love to push boundaries and play with expectations. maybe because we will all bend to what feels right at any given moment and be left with disappointment when measuring our morality.

so questions and answers. critical thinking and research. classrooms and dormrooms. negative and positive–opposites and necessary for one another. opposites are contrast and contrast is definition. define what you learn as not only what is told to you, but as what you see for yourself. and if you see something–don’t doubt it. we are much more at risk from what we don’t see–what lays before us is only precedent for what lies within us. define yourself through what you wish for–not what you can currently attain. do not settle for that which comes your way. enjoy that but seek wholeheartedly a greater understanding–and a greater person to understand you.

college. learn–and take classes too.

september 19th, 2006

cyclical thoughts and repetitive feelings have long since tainted life as viewed through a lens of motion sickness.

if living is to thrive and dying is to lay cold then isn’t it grand how we lay such emphasis on relaxation? why do we crave queit when it is noise that reminds us we’re alive? why do we breathe slowly when it is ragged exhuastion that behooves honest action? is it because we wish to play dead–expecting some higher order to give us a treat and pet us for our withdrawals from life? or is it because true rest is so reticent of death that it’s absence invites a rush of awareness? is not all of living and all of life–and all the difference between the two–a story of awareness? what is a life if one is not aware?

a beating heart may connote that one is alive regardless of whether or not they’re living. it’s this distinction, this dependance on awareness that captures the unbridled contempt i hold for ignorance in it’s weakest forms.

all genius comes from awarenss, as does all meaning, all learning, and all growth. intelligence, faith, hope, virtue, vice, infatuation and life are all bare shadows of amicable ideals without awareness. everything is awareness and nothing is complete without it.

awareness is the distinction between what one feels and what is real–between what we wish to percieve and that which is intangible. all of this is why i meet those who feign a lack of awareness with a most frustrated loathing. there is little worse than ignorance in any form but a faked unawareness in all forms should turn over the stomach of any hoenst human. such foolery is dastardly at least and utterly idiotic at every encounter.

and yet it greets us from every corner of our lives. we all ignore that which finds us for a multitude of reasons. we fear some progressions, and as such we choose to digress through rejection of that which we know so intimately to be true. we cower from that which may flower into greatness because we are too unsure to give a few seeds a chance. we disable light because we know not what lays in the dark. we lie because truth is admittance and admittance is synonymous with an acknowledgment of awareness and a bet not on faith but on the chance that what we know not may better what we may be. we twist through what we need to admit because we cannot swallow such bitter freedom without sweet denial.

do not feign a lack of awareness. if you must–do so. but know that each moment you do is a moment humanity has been cheapened, a moment we have lost to nothing but our own cowering weakness.

chya
thug
life
this
that
rock
hard
sock
best
twig
made
fade
fake
bake
sake
cake
take
rack
back
sack
tack
lack
wack
hack
mack
jack
yack
funk.
dunk.
junk.
sunk.
bunk.
bank.
tank.
hank.
sank.

4lc

c.h.y.a.

September 13th, 2006

Nine days remain of my days residing in the house that was home for the latter half of my youth. And it’s a feeling unlike any I have experienced.

It’s an awareness—a sort of reality. I’m aware that even more people will become memories only to be materialized a few times a year. I have resigned to the simple fact that those who I overtly appreciate are habitually those who feign—so thinly—ignorance to my ambitions. I’m enlightened as to the few people I will miss and the even more seldom number of folks I truly respect. These people will always have a place in these words and in my life and I can only hope to be granted such acceptance in return.

It’s a dizzying uncertainty—a sentiment that I will find only what I do not expect. But expectations are seldom met by those in this world, so I’m not worried. I’m scared and anxiously anticipating what awaits but I’m not fretting. The only fretting is regarding my current ability to despise all that falls unto these pages and loathe the scarcity of interesting thought even more.

It’s quite obvious that I have made a plethora of mistakes in my time. I’m awfully bad with times and even more bumbling with dates. Modesty fails me, especially when honesty’s failure would serve me much better. My insecurities are often shielded through first impressions but those who stick around know quite well that I have my fair share.

But perfection has always caused me much uneasiness. Perhaps that’s because I have never found any lasting semblance of it. All of these fleeting glimpses have hurt more than anything else. So while I, like most, crave that perfection—the perfect young lady, the perfect family, the perfect career—I now that should I ever be so impossibly lucky, I still couldn’t be happy. This dastardly and gaping hole causes much grief and I’m not sure what to do about it.

perhaps the only thing worse than fading is being a fad–being fodder for fools who frankly fall far short of even failing. you see, being a fool is fine. being a fad is not. being a fad–in someone’s life–means that you came and went much in the same way leggings under skirts do–unfortunately and quickly. and if you’re like leggings, no one really likes you and the girls who wear you are dumb. but if you’re like most who fade out of my life, it’s fine–betrayal is par for the course when your’e living sub-par but pulling all the trick shots.

i despise writing things with a keyboard for the first time. i like to write them and then grapple with them as i struggle to type them without changing this, taking out that appositive and this adjective and replacing that verb with this one, etcetera etcetera. this probably doesn’t make sense because i’m not really coherent but coherence is a game for those who have never felt the true joy of madness. and it’s also a game for those who refuse to let themselves be normal. it’s true–those who are never mad are those who do not allow themselves to be normal. pretty much all i have to say today is: 4lc ♥.

some people are awesome. i think i may have to rework my heros list soon. there are some who are fading and some who are somehow suddenly shining far brighter than anything else. there’s an original pen pal who brightens my days, a fellow cynic, and a little brother that are amazing and i appreciate them. then there are others who are just others.

i suppose that’s it. my last entry dealt with the issue of why people matter. or mattered. i believe the reason people matter is really a direct result not of emotion but of words and the gift of labeling. those who do not believe in stereotypes, those who don’t believe in the power of generalities and words to create and convey great truth are ignorant. a simple word such as “others” differentiates those that matter from everyone else. and there is great distinction between what matters to me and what doesn’t–especially when it comes to people. people that matter to me are loyal not in the conventional way–i don’t want them to die for me, i just want them to be there and be real when they know i need them to be. the people who matter to me are honest but not about what doesn’t make a damn bit of difference–they’re honest about how they feel and why they wish for what they want. and the ones that matter to me are always able to pretend to be above the foolish obsessions of the obseqious idiots that surround us. they are the ones that make life feel like the commercials where the young boy is walking slowly through a jumbling city where everything moves so quickly but irrelevently around him. that’s where i find myself when i’m with these people. the rest? they’re just other’s, else’s, and no one’s.