This is the last I will say about Colarado. It took me some time, but I've realized the reality behind my own motivation and the experience which I had. It wasn't a badass adventure or a thrilling experience. It was a change of pace and I entered a very different frame of mind whilst I was on this adventure (it may not have been badass, but I would still say it was kind of an adventure). The reality behind the experience was that I needed to learn something and somehow I found what I was looking for. Insight into myself. I learned what I needed to learn about life and myself. Not everything, but something important. For one, I realized that I just wanted to run away. I didn't want to be at home because, well, I have some problems. And I just couldn't bring myself to truly see the blessing I was given. Not everyone has a brother they have a lot in common with and can talk to any day about whatever. Not everyone has parents who, while flawed, deeply love them. Not everyone lives in a safe suburb with conscientious neighbors who, yes, are a little loud sometimes. Not everyone lives in as much comfort as I do, with all the opportunities that I have, and the physical and mental potential that I have. And I think I was ashamed of this. It probably came from how, whenever you complain, people will tell you about starving kids in Africa. You can't argue with that but it doesn't make you feel better about your own situation. It just makes you feel ashamed of still hating your life. But at the same time, there are starving children everywhere. People die every day. People have genuine reasons to wish they were dead. In Colarado I met some people who were really hard up. A vietnam vet who was put up in a motel by the VA. When he was my age, he was crawling through mud with a gun so that he could find people who want to kill him and kill them first. You(me) want to talk about how the internet and isolation messes with mental health? What does something like war do to your mental health? And when he came back, he didn't get to live in a nice house, but a dinky motel. And for all I know there was a massive inbetween there. Yet, he had an amazing attitude. He gave me advice about my own situation. While we were talking, a homeless guy with truly sad eyes sat next to us. I saw in that guy's face a similarity to my own. It was an encounter with the ghost of christmas future. I saw exactly how, if I didn't change, I would end up like that guy. I don't know how he got there. Maybe he was blessed too but couldn't see it and lost it. Just like I was dangerously close to doing. Maybe he always had it tough and never had a fair chance. But in Colarado, anything was possible. I could have stayed there with the little money I had and lived in some shitty place, or failed even to have that. I could have found success there all on my own, or I could have fell into misfortune, all on my own. The reality of my trip in Colarado is that it was kind of an embarassment. And to try and frame it like it was something great would be stupid. I'm a spoiled and very sheltered person who had it really easy. And it took a brief tour of the rough side of things, where the yang constitutes only a small part of the overwhelming ying. Yet within many people living in ying, the ones with wisdom anyway, there is a constant preference to try and see the yang. And so too is there often the inverse of that, like in my case. So I decided to come back to California. It was time to get a grip. I didn't integrate all this at first. There was the misadventure which I won't get into, and I was really angry. Still trying to make reality what it isn't. But with a little time and the help of a friend, I finally realized what this trip was all about and why, of all the ideas that have occurred to me, the moment I thought of Colarado, something within me knew that I had to do it. And I did without delay. Something quite rare for me. Something within me was seeking this lesson and probably guided me towards this without me even knowing. The mind is full of mysteries and I don't pretend to get it. And honestly, this new understanding remains untested. But I finally know exactly what I have to do. Get through this crisis, the external and the internal, go back to college and stick with it -- because I will not be content any longer to live in ignorance, and just try to be kind and do the right things even if it scares me. And in that way I will become stronger, a power source in own right, able to help others who need it. And those people, who like me were helped by others, will be able to go on and continue a cycle of positivity. Because at the end of the day, that's all we little humans can do for each other. It may not always seem like much, but it would surprise you.
So as I was driving, I told myself that it was okay. Maybe something would have happened and I just wasn't prepared for that, so continuing on was just the right thing to do. And yet, I thought of a quote I found from a curiousity that I had investigated awhile ago: "Everything you ever wanted is on the other side of fear." So I knew in my heart that yes, what I did was a little bit cowardly. I mean, I was run off from my camp by a gust of wind. But it was still a big step in overcoming my fears. Fear was/is a (recently reawakened) plague in my psyche that made me visualize death and dismay, one could even say demonic forms, all in the mind, of course. It made me lose sleep, or sleep with the light on. Because when I closed my eyes in the dark, monstrous faces and images would vividly appear as if on a screen behind my eyelids. This was a problem I was struggling with for several months. Slowly but surely, I managed to be less afraid of these things. When I started my job, they had pretty much gone away. And when I would still occasionally see something terrifying, I fought away the fear. But now the fear was coming from without, not within (but of course both are connected). It was dark at this point. The landscape which before I saw as beautiful, now induced within me an incredible amount of insecurity. I somehow understood the inhospitibility of the land; I mean, it was all desert. A human being alone could not survive there without real knowledge and preperation. And I was driving an old car which struggled to drive 50 up even slight slopes, with minimal supplies. And I just entered a 62 mile no services area. And throughout this area, cellphone service was in an out. And I was miles away from anyone. And I was driving the road alone, the friendly headlights of fellow drivers were absent. Who was I? Just a 22 year old boy, inexperienced in life, some several hundered dollars left in the bank -- numbers on a screen. Papers stuffed in a tri-fold leather bag. If my car broke down, what would I do? I know nothing about cars. I was hundreds of miles away from home and from my destination. I suppose, depending on where it broke down, I could walk until my phone had bars and call triple A or wait for someone to drive by. I was alone in that moment, but all in all, not truly alone. Yet I had never really considered survival in so raw a way. The dark desert seemed to loom over me and I was getting tired. I started to question my ability to keep the car going. It seemed like I could get sucked into the darkness at any moment. And finally I passed through the no service area and saw an exit approaching which advertised their gas, food, and lodging. I took the exit -- exit 37, lucky number--, humbled, with a new understanding of the value of four walls and a bed. I parked my car and walked into the motel, Comfort Inn. How fitting. I needed some comforting right about now. So I walked in, mask in hand, and took my place behind this woman and her kid who were dealing with the clerk, a kindly old man with a white beard and a positive glow to him. Only the kid was wearing the mask. I started to put it on, but noticed that fact and just stuffed it into my pocket. Not wearing it wasn't going to make anyone here worried or uncomfortable. When they were done, I approached the counter and said "I just need a room for the night." He said "Yeah, sure." and looked up his openings. He asked me some questions to see if I could get a discount -- I wasn't technically eligible but he gave it to me anyway. When I told him my name -- a name I have some shame about -- he could tell and he encouraged me not to be. He said I had a good spirit about me. He was a perceptive person and basically said everything I needed to hear at that point to relax. I felt accepted. I told him I was thinking of moving to Colorado and he asked about where I was from. He suggested I move into the small city there: Richfield. He told me there was a mosque there, a college, everything I'd need. I said I'd have a look around in the morning. Finally, he gave me the room keys and I made my way to my room and got inside. I laid down in the bed, still feeling a little bit wired, having driven about 500 miles in a day, with a new understanding of the thin line between life and death. Yet I was comfortable and I started to relax. I picked up the Gideon's Bible which tend to be in hotels and read a little bit of it. It's a curiousity, you know, one of the three major religions of the world. Besides, Muslims, which I consider myself to be at this point, regard the Bible as a holy book. It's not some heresay to read it. I found some passages which resonated and told myself I should learn more about not just Christianity, but all the religions. I should learn more about my own religion. I just need to learn, like a lot more. Anyway, I finally got myself to sleep. And I'll continue this more later. Not only is this already long again, but I also need the time.
I had a strange experience. I took a trip to Denver, Colorado because I couldn't take my job anymore and I quit it. But I chose to go to Colorado specifically because it was a place I was interested in moving to. I saved up just about 1400 dollars and took my 2001 Toyota Corolla 1000 miles from the unabashed heat of the LA area to the mild, somewhat chilly at night land of Colorado. It was a bit of a misadventure. First, I feel like I aged a few years just by taking this trip. This was the first time I really had to rely on myself. I felt the fear of death when I set up camp alone on the Vermillion Castle campground in Utah. It was a naive start that day as I drove through the I-70, graced by the illumination and comfort of the sun. Playing my music, pulling on my weed vape, smoking cigarettes, enjoying the majesty of the surrounding nature racing past me. In modern grandiosity, I saw great mountains and thought, oh how beautiful, what a paintbrush god has. It was immaterial brush, immaterial desert. But that first night, I learned to respect nature for what it really is: a beautiful, generous, yet powerful and punitive force. I arrived at the campground at around 5 pm. I set up my tent and went exploring. Just forest. No one around for what seemed like maybe a few miles. I didn't go for too long a hike because I didn't want to get lost. So, I don't really know the scale of the place. But it seemed quite big and empty. I had a compass, and thank god I did and was paying enough attention to the directions I was going because I would have been lost without the compass. I managed to make it back to my camp. I learned a lesson there: pay basic attention, make basic accuracy. Pay a lot of attention, make a lot of accuracy. Anyway, what I did was navigate my way back to the road, several yards from my camp. So, as you can guess, I was paying basic attention. Good enough this time, as it turns out. So I got out my stove and threw some food into the pot to heat it up, leftover dinner from home, and ate it up. I smoked and read this book I was reading and then decided it was time to sleep. I set up my bag in the tent and relaxed. The sun was starting to go down. Little critters started to stir and the wind started to blow. And a particular gust of wind got on my last nerve. It interacted with my tent in an unusual way. It sounded, looked and felt like someone lined the tarp hanging of the tent in an arc-like fashion. It just seemed to have such a human presence. I laid there kind of frozen for a second waiting for the psycho murderer to pounce, defensless and terrified. I thought to myself: fight or flight. And so I found my courage and opened the tent door and poked my head out. Nothing. Then, leaving my shoes, I ran to my car like a coward. First I flashed a light into the back seat and under the car to make sure there were no traps waiting for me. All clear. I went into my car and locked it. I had a stun gun in the jacket which I left in my car. I grabbed it and sat there, shaking. My mind went to some weird places. I found the horrifying scenarios that would explain why still nothing happened, even if something still would. Like maybe it's a team of psychos with masks and chanting who wanted to make me afraid first so that they could sacrifice me to their pagan gods or something. Yeah that's it. They're going to let me stew in my car with the fear they caused by their man who touched my tent. Then when I've calmed down, they'll begin their ceremony. With their evil, demon masks, they'll start banging on my car and make me come out to try and fight them off with a stun gun, nothing but a toy really, or they'll break the windows and pull me out. After that? Hey, your guess is as good as mine. I knew deep down it was just the wind, but the fear would not go away. Forget this, I thought. I'll just power through the night and drive to Colorado. Fuck sleeping. When I get there, I'll just stay at a motel like a normal person. I debated leaving the tent. I listed off the property loss in my head. I'd lose a 30 dollar pair of shoes, a tent, a sleeping bag, an insulation matt, that book, a lighter and 3/4 a pack of cigarettes. Oh and some toilet paper. Okay, I can live with that, I figured. But no. There was nothing out there. Somehow, I still couldn't bring myself to go back to the tent or even to sleep in my car. But I turned on my headlights, brought my stun gun, and packed up my stuff. Then, I left and got back on the I-70, disappointed in myself. There's more, but I'll tell the rest of this story another time. This is quite long already.
Well, I've been quite busy as of late. I've settled on an inconsistent routine of working, smoking (both), gaming, and sleeping. Also eating. And seeing to other biological necessities. Started watching Black Lagoon. It's fun to fantasize about breaking away from polite society for a life of crime on the high seas. Considering the morality question here, I'll just settle for hiking and camping for my sense of adventure. And when I can concievably get a week off work, maybe I'll even go backpacking. Actually, I was going to go backpacking for a week with my friends next week, but I can't now because of work. Whatever, eventually I'll make enough money and I'll set off on a real adventure. I want to hike the PCT. I live pretty close to one of the ends of that trail. At 2650 miles, it would take about half a year to finish. That would be a hell of a time. Right now, I'm just taking free days out to hike and explore a nearby state park. I got a map for it and a compass and I'm even learning how to navigate without the crutch of a smart phone! It's actually quite reassuring to know that even if I lost my phone for good or it ran out of battery, I can still find my way back to safety. Alright, well, I'd better go to sleep. I'm Jeb Bush right now.
The reality is that the world isn't ending and things aren't that bad. Even if things do get bad, I still have to get on with life. And the only way I can think of to move forward through the crisis (again, I'm talking about the political one, not the 'rona) is to find a way to remember that I still have two hands, two legs and the desire to create. While my recent activity betrays a brief foray into the world of hysteria, I've got a full plate again and I feel my sanity coming back. Staying busy and productive is key, at least for me, into not feeling insane. The reality is that I was already feeling terrible before the virus hit. I tried going back to school to get back out there into the world and it was only a couple months before I was forced to go back to my cave. Then I simmered for three months while I sneered at the implication that this virus was anything other than a cathartic release designed for Americans to feel like something is actually going on with their lives. There's probably some projection there. Well, I did my classes online and felt really disconnected. I decided to make a change for myself when I heard things reopening. Another attempt to get back on track. I was going to move to Colorado. Then, second wave hits and it seemed advisable to stay for awhile. Plus surrounding circumstances personal to me made that my only option. But now, I have a job and I have a plan to still move to either Colorado or Alaska once I've saved enough money and assuming that interstate travel doesn't get banned by then. Either way, it has been a time of uncertainty. But I'm trying to stay positive most of the time. Here are some songs I play to remind me of the virtue of non-hysteria. This helps me in forgetting about the lack of freedom which has become the norm in the last few months. While it sucks to think about the lockdown, millions of businesses closed down, the mandate to wear masks everywhere you go, the gov and big corps just generally flexing on us, etc. all over a virus with a 99% recovery rate, a good reggae bop can make me feel as free as a pirate, floating out on some sea, hundreds of miles from any port; possibly even stuck on the doldrums, yet remembering that I got my boat and I'm just chilling, waiting for the winds to pick up and take me further into the unknown. This is by a band, Covet, which I recently found out about. The best (well, maybe just good enough) adjective to describe their work is "healing". Whether it's their instrumental stuff, or the poetics of their front woman, Yvette Young, I haven't heard a song by them didn't make me feel better after listening to it. Some other stuff to check out by them: "Blossom", "Parachute", Young's solo acoustics and piano albums on Spotify, and the band is also on Spotify. So, if you're looking for something interesting instrumentally, but easy on the ears, I reccomend them. The meme without the twist. It turns out the only difference between distilled depression and unrestrained joy is speed and a li'l reverb. Good stuff. This one is kind of what you make of it. It can be depressing or uplifting. Generally, for me, it's the latter. It probably helps that I don't understand a single word. Nujabes. That is all. And since I've done three songs which are either Japanese or inspired by Japanese styles, here's another one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNplZrRSjeI Samurai Champloo is my all time favorite anime. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVehv_LDWaE Key is key. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oTeUdJky9rY I wouldn't be surprised if this was word for word a comment on this video but: it makes me nostalgic for a place and time I've never experienced. Nostalgic in the happy way. Not the other one. __________________________________________________________________________ I guess that's good enough. I have more but I think I've already listed too many. Once again, thanks for watching. That's the end of this series on playlists associated with personal moods. If you'd like to see more, please comment that in the comment box and don't forget to like, share your thoughts, and subscribe!
I don't really think the world is going to end (no, really). Certainly not at the hands of a 'roided up flu. But nevertheless, what with the political situation that has been developing for several decades, I've got my worries. At the moment, I've started to feel an uneasy sense of impending doom. But who knows what time will reveal? So these are some songs that have helped (helped? yeah, definitely) me in the way that when you're sinking in water, the more you fight it, all you do is sink lower. Best for you to pass out and float up to the top. This gem is a meme with a twist. The indescribable feeling of a bygone era yielding to a new one which whispers and smirks of possible horror and probable catastrophe is captured quite well here, for me. This one speaks for itself if you listen to it. This is a good one for when the hopelessness can get such to where you're not sure if you're losing your mind or not. Cee Lo's advice? Possibly... probably. A classic. When you think about the sentiment growing in regards to defunding the police, if you're a regular person, you may find yourself genuinely concerned that law and order could be a thing of the past. What does it mean to go for a simple walk if the psychos with guns who are paid to do good are no longer being paid? Well, I'm not saying they're going to start doing bad things. But someone is, because it's open season. Anarchy in the streets. Well, this song is so cool it makes anarchy seem cool by association. Smell that? That's teen spirit. Nothing like the palpable stench of adolescent angst extended to the de facto state of affairs of a country, amirite? This could be the anthem of 2020, but I find the bit of theatre Morrison does toward the end (no pun intended) to be a little bit distasteful and it almost ruined the song for me. But hey, if there was one adjective that could describe the spirit of the current times it's "f***, f***-ah, yeah/ f***, f***/ f***, f***/ f***, f***, f*** yeah!" and so forth. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0GFRcFm-aY And last, but not least, the true anthem of 2020. For when feeling doomish toward impending doom gets old and you just wanna get down to a fast-paced bop which wastes no time in getting to the point. __________________________________________________________________________ And that's it for my apocalyptic vibes playlist recommendations. Please comment in the comment box below with suggestions for what songs I should cover in the next video. And don't forget to leave a like and subscribe!
So I have my first real shift at my new job today. Woke up at 4 am for this 6 am shift. Tomorrow I've gotta be there at 7 at night. So it's one of those jobs. Given how inconsistent my sleeping schedule has been this year anyway, I don't figure I'm losing anything. At least now I can be paid to be a coffee-addled night owl. But I'm not concerned with the difficulties that come with this job. All jobs are chalk full of those and the grass is always greener. I just want to write something to the effect of turning over a new leaf. I want this job to be a chance for me to gain back some agency and control in my life. I've really been feeling, to borrow a phrase from a pop song, like a plastic bag, flowing to the whim of the wind. And I'm tired of this. Now, I can stop complaining and turn all the angst into something productive. Take a sad song, and make it better (from another song). Wish me luck!
I went to get some pizza today and pick up my Mom's medication from the pharmacy. I've been cooperative with these rules on wearing masks but today I just forgot it. I was nearly at the pharmacy when I remembered and figured it would be okay to just go in without the mask this once. Well, I was right. The pharmacist behind the counter's mask didn't even squirm or squiggle. She didn't miss a beat and greeted me with a warm welcome: "Last name?" Well, some things never change, I guess. But I was also wrong. At the pizza joint, I barely got out a "Hi" before the worker gave me a flat "Can't help you without a mask." I explained that I usually wear one but I just forgot. He just repeated it with the exact tone of voice and, quite literally, turned his back on me. I couldn't even tell if he enjoyed saying that or not because... well.. he was wearing a mask. I'll be honest. I hate wearing these masks. Hate it. It really depresses me. I like people's faces. I like people to see my face. I know the guy was just doing his job, but still. It hit me harder than it probably should've. I went back home to get my mask and, with a little bit of spite, went to a different pizza joint to get the pizza. This is life now, I guess. Everything that is wrong with the internet, we translated it to daily life. Together, yet distant. Intimate, yet anonymous. We stand apart, six degrees of separation to every interaction and no sign of this letting up. Only a little tease of reopening, just to be yanked away in less than a week's time. I remember there were times before this when the smallest thing like a stranger's smile could brighten my day. And that's in short supply right now. I just have to make due with the exaggerated nodding I've seen some people do (including myself), a crafty substitution to the once subconscious process of emoting. I started a new job Wednesday. Met my boss and coworkers. Don't even know what they look like. Nobody took their mask off for a second. Man. I was already going crazy before all this shit happened. This has been a real test of my fortitude. I thought I had had more than I could handle, guess I was wrong. I'll just have to keep marching on and keep in mind the old adage: "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger". And hey, I've got my family. At a time like this, in all their dysfunctional glory, family is priceless. I've never been more grateful to have stupid arguments over nothing in my life. It's not all doom and gloom out here. There's still much to be glad about. Hey, I landed a job in all this so that's something, too.
When I was in highschool, I briefly tried Taekwondo. I didn't get much out of it. At first, it was great. I took to it pretty well and it wasn't too long until I was ready to advance to the next belt. But I was an idiot kid. I chickened out before taking the test. Instead of making the most of something which I actually enjoyed, my brain -- which has consistently been my enemy in my life -- came up with all sorts of reasons to not do it. I felt like maybe it was too easy or it wasn't legit. I thought it was some kind of lame doju because if I could advance to the next rank so soon, it must be some sort of fake nonsense and there was nothing I could get out of it. I don't know. I've just never been on my own side. I really hate that part of myself. But there was one particular experience I had which stuck out and that I've been dwelling on today. They brought a legit Taekwondo master from Korea in. He did some demonstration or a talk or something. I can't remember that part. What I do remember was that after the training session, all us pupils went and shook his hand and talked with him briefly. When it was my turn, I shook his hand. I was quite taller than him and (literally) looked down at him -- you know, so I could look him in the eyes. He said to me, my hand still in his: "You look down at me like I'm young. I am not. I am strong." And then he effortlessly squeezed my hand with, I must admit, great strength. I didn't even know what to say. I looked at my teacher who gave me a smile that I couldn't really interpret. And then back at this Taekwondo master. I didn't say a word. He released my hand and I left. I didn't and still don't know what to make of this interaction. Initially I thought the guy was some dip who was insecure about his height. But I wonder if he had a point. I have always had a rebellious attitude and always try to break rules(if I can get away with it). When I was younger, I had no respect for anyone and a ridiculous ego. Of course, this ego was compensation for my deep insecurities, but it was there. And I wonder... was it a look in my eyes? Was it my body language? I wasn't the only one taller than him and I don't think he said that to anyone else. So... yeah. I mean that's it. It's just got my thinking. I think this guy read me like a book and tried to give me some kind of lesson. And I didn't learn it. That's too bad. Whatcha goin' do?
In the midst of all the bs happening over the last couple days, let alone the pandemic, I went camping with some friends. I only stayed one night because this was my first time camping and I just didn't want to stay another night. And yet, I really enjoyed my time. Completely unplugged, staring at rocks for hours, hiking, freeform rock climbing on giant rocks. Drinks, games, etc. It was really hard and boring, but somehow was a really refreshing experience. It's nice to feel that distance between civilization. Like, just being far enough away from all the amenities I take for granted and all the noise associated with my usual environment makes me feel at ease in a way. Like, I don't really need all this crap. I can survive without comfort. I could sacrifice all the luxuries and comforts of my house if I needed to. I feel less tied down to those things. A lot more free. There was no running water, so I had to make due with whatever supply I had and be conservative with that supply in whatever I was doing if it wasn't drinking. The heat when we first arrived at the camp area was unbearable. Setting up a tarp was helpful but it was still really hot. Hiking was nice. There were lizards, cacti, rabbits, yucca plants, and we saw a snake guarding a coyote pumpkin. When we got a little close (just in walking by) it warned us to stay away with a loud hiss. It was a big snake too. It wasn't going to leave that melon. Along the hike, we found a better campsite, one shaded by an overhang of rock. So, even though we had all set up our tents at another area, we decided it would be better to relocate there. So we did. It was much better from there. In a couple of hours, the sun had gone down a little bit and the breeze set in and we were chilling at the campsite coming up with games or just staring at the view from campsite -- which was a really nice one. I had a great time. But ultimately, I'm not going to abandon everything and live out in the woods. Not this time, at least. It was just nice to get away from everything for a little while. Then I came back, apparently the riots are really bad and there was a curfew for the last two nights in my county. I guess massive crowds of people walking shoulder to shoulder like that is pretty bad, right? That virus should start spreading like wildfire, now! But I doubt I'll hear about a sudden uptick in corona virus infections among the protesters, because this virus isn't really that big of a deal. Anyway, that's where I'm at. I had a good couple days and one night of peace and now I'm right back in the shit. But, at least I felt like I was able to relax a little bit and put things into perspective. Next time though, I want to go camping by a lake.
I tend to expound at length the different shades of feeling like shit, but right now I actually feel pretty good. Nothing special or interesting about it. But I feel at peace and I feel optimistic. It's odd how, in feeling optimistic, I don't need to explain my childhood or relations with others, it just is. Yet, if things suck, then I've got to talk about all the flaws of society and my limitations. I suppose it's a logical mechanism built to get at the source of a problem so it can eventually be eliminated. But if the problem has no simple solution, then it can work against its own purpose. That's some human condition shit right there. On another note, I'm into older music. I can like newer music, but it doesn't have the vibe of good ol' rock n roll. Don't know why. Is it because I played guitar hero as a kid? I loved that game. Me and my brother used to play that game a lot, we would... rock and roll all night. But we didn't party every day. My brother has been staunchly against partying. I liked it. But only because I liked the booze and recklessness part of it. But socializing with people? Gross. That's probably why I've only been to a handful of parties with shitty people. They were okay, but flawed in a similar way to me. Just wanting to escape into music and substances -- of course they were hip hop and chill, I'm more of a rock n roll and smash shit type of partier, something that rarely meshes well with the people I knew. But when it did, oh boy, good times. This isn't an example of one of those times but: I remember one time at a party someone started throwing a piece of toast(well, sliced bread -- it wasn't toasted) around and it became a game of grab the piece of toast and throw it if it landed in your vicinity. I was pretty psyched that I got to throw the toast. I also met a girl named Brandy at that party while playing beer pong. I thought that was a cool name. We talked for awhile. It was pleasant. In retrospect, my past wasn't as bad as I always seem to tell myself. I wonder why I convince myself that life is bad when it's what you make of it. There are good times, bad times, and the boring in between. I think I get stuck in that bit. Impatient, anxious, inattentive. Just gotta manage that bit in between.
I've been depressed for half my life since I was 11, and yet lately I've found myself wishing to go back to highschool. Or just be in that state of mind when I could guiltlessly dwell in my imagination. Now, I can hardly do that without feeling like I'm a huge failure and a dork. I didn't appreciate what I had -- but I guess few do at that age. I lacked perspective. At least now I have the perspective to know that I still lack perspective. But back then, I could be so shamelessly lost in my small mindedness, just throw in a layer of pining, insincere irony to be hip and I was golden. Now, I can only be sincerely ironic. Is there anything more pathetic? I've never been more confused and disillusioned than I am in this time in my life. When I was in highschool, I believed people were basically good and bad, some were good, some were bad. Now, I know that everyone just wants to fill the hole in their heart somehow. Some do it by giving, some do it by taking. Nobody is who they present themselves to be because it's unacceptable to present your entirety. And I don't know if that should change. If nobody controlled themselves, life would be even more hellish. In highschool, I believed there was some kind of fundamental truth. I thought humanity, as a whole, had an inkling of what was going on. I believed there was some kind of explanation, somewhere, somehow, for what this is all about. But there just isn't. Life seriously doesn't make sense. It is absurd. I actually understand what Camus was going on about now. I still don't know how I'm supposed to imagine Sisyphus happy, though. I have deja vu a lot. I feel like I've said everything I just wrote before, and I probably have said some of this stuff, maybe even on this very cesspool of a blog. But even just regular situations, I'll feel like I've experienced whatever is happening or being said before. Sometimes, I can explain it as just being reminiscent of something else. Other times, it really is just neurons firing. But maybe my brain is doing this to tell me something: I've stagnated so long, life has seriously lost its luster. But now I wonder, what about five or ten years from now? Surely, when I'm thirty, I'll feel similarly to my current self that I feel currently to my past self. And right now I wish my past self had appreciated his time more and prepared himself for what was to come. Maybe I can flip the script. See the 1s and 0s and stop being a slave to the matrix. I sure would like, just once in my life, to look back in the past and be proud rather than ashamed. To be genuinely content instead of hopeless and depressed. Surely, putting sincere effort into that is worthwhile.
There's electronics in every room, my computer is always humming. By habit, I tend to be listening to something with my headphones a lot. When I want to take them off and just have a quiet time doing something productive, there's ruckus in the other rooms. My house's walls are paper. My parents have the TV on ALL the time. And because they're old the volume is super loud because otherwise they can't hear. Kind of reminds me of that youth "rebel" slogan: "If the music's too loud, you're too old!" Surely, the older you are, the louder you have to listen to stuff because your ears have deteriorated, right? And any time they talk, I have to hear that. And the neighbors can be a little loud sometimes, but not so bad. Of course, one of my neighbors is in a bike club/gang. That was always so annoying how he'd rip that shit at least once a week. The engine is so fucking loud. Usually it's just annoying but every once and awhile when I'm in a really peaceful mood or I was focused on something and then that engine, which must reverberate throughout the entire damn block, starts revving and I'm jolted out of whatever pleasant reverie I was in. Noise pollution. Real thing. Hate it. Anyway, I really need to figure out a way to have a quiet environment. I would really like to just live in a really quiet place. I like music and movies, I like talking to people, sound has its place. The occasional trip to the city, observation of the bustle and hustle, can be intriguing. But, sometimes, I just want to not hear anything at all. Not even nature sounds. Silence.
I miss smoking weed today. I haven't missed it this much in awhile. But I just want to go buy a couple grams, some wraps, and roll a joint. I would go for a hike and smoke it on the trail. Maybe bring some music, too. I quit for a reason. And I find my mental faculties have improved since stopping. It would be a bad idea. I shouldn't do it. Yet... I want to. Hopefully, I can keep fighting the urge. If anyone wants to help me talk out of it, I'd actually kind of appreciate that.
With all the unknown unknowns, and all the unknowns you thought were known, I seem to know that I have no clue what's truly true. But I can and do know that I have love in my heart. As long as I can have that, I know that life's okay. I can justify existence on that grounds. I don't know if that's all there is to being happy, but it's the one thing I can point to when I just wanna give up. It's the one comfort when I feel so confused by all the craziness of the world. Not knowing why anything is happening, not knowing which of the million crazy ideas that explains the different mysteries of this world might actually be true, not knowing even if what I perceive is truly reality. I think, therefore I am. I love, therefore, I can be. Screw all the rest.