Monthly Archives: September 2002

The Fuck Off List

Today was gen­er­al­ly a shit­ty, low self-esteem day. I was left out or left behind three times. I need­ed some Anger Management, with a lot of my Fuck Off playlist to get through the day. Perhaps I’ll write a more heart­en­ing entry lat­er tonight, after I’ve had a nice show­er, a hot meal, and some Strongbow. My Fuck Off playlist is as fol­lows.

  • Coal Chamber — Sway
  • Coal Chamber — Unspoiled
  • Coal Chamber — Loco
  • Coal Chamber — Oddity
  • Korn — Reclaim My Place
  • Korn — Justin
  • Korn — Pretty
  • Marilyn Manson —1996
  • Marilyn Manson — Angel With the Scabbed Wings
  • Marilyn Manson — Irresponsible Hate Anthem
  • Marilyn Manson — Tourniquet
  • Deftones — 7 Words
  • Kittie — Brackish
  • Slipknot — Wait and Bleed
  • Godsmack — Whatever
  • Refused — New Noise
  • Deftones — My Own Summer (Shove It)
  • Pantera — 5 Minutes Alone
  • Tool — Jerk
  • Fear Factory — Edgecrusher
  • Marilyn Manson — The Reflecting God
  • Tool — Hooker with a Penis
  • Marilyn Manson — The Beautiful People
  • Marilyn Manson — Mister Superstar
  • Marilyn Manson — Dried Up, Tied, and Dead to the World
  • Korn — Dead Bodies Everywhere
  • Korn — It’s On!
  • Korn — Got the Life
  • Papa Roach — Last Resort

I took out Freak on a Leash because it just does­n’t have the hard hit­ting refrain that I need when I’m real­ly pissed off, although I sup­pose the caden­za in the mid­dle where Jonathan Davis goes crazy is some relief from peo­ple I just can’t seem to deal with.

So I got home, to an emp­ty apart­ment, thank god, opened up a can of Strongbow, and start­ed writ­ing. It’s fair­ly rare that such a day hap­pens, I’m glad to say, in con­trast to oth­er poe­ple I know, who hap­pen to have bad days when they stub their toe, or when they get too many calls from their friends dur­ing the day. That just piss­es me off. Blah, don’t get me start­ed.

Buddhism

I just fin­ished watch­ing Shaolin Temple with Pita. It had a good sto­ry and amaz­ing fight scenes, but the dub­bing just killed any act­ing or tak­ing the movie seri­ous­ly. The mas­ter was a very for­giv­ing man though, as all Buddhist peo­ple should be, I’m assum­ing. It changed my per­cep­tion of Buddhism in gen­er­al. I always believed that it was an extreme­ly strict belief sys­tem. And, I believe, it should be. After all, if you break one rule, why not break them all? However, I do believe that there is a bal­ance that must be tak­en into account. If you are aware that you sin, and you sel­dom do it, then it should be alright.

I dab­bled in Buddhism once in first year. It was enlight­en­ing, but incom­plete. It just did­n’t fit in with my life well at the time. Of course, the belief that suf­fer­ing is inher­ent in life fit com­plete­ly, but I was still a child (well, I still am, actu­al­ly), try­ing to under­stand myself and the things around me. I think that I am bet­ter adjust­ed to some­thing like Buddhism right now. I’m just not sure how close­ly I should fol­low its’ teach­ings.

I mean, I think I could live on rice. But celiba­cy?! I mean…I’m human. And to make things worse, I’m male. I think it’s some­thing that I would real­ly have to work on. Practicing Buddhism would def­i­nite­ly stop me from being such a good hater. I’m always wor­ried that peo­ple will think that I’m con­ceit­ed from the way I hate peo­ple. I know I’m no bet­ter than the rest, but do oth­er peo­ple? It just wor­ries me.

But it would­n’t wor­ry a Buddhist.

Two Things You Didn't Know About Me

God, I love praise. I think it’s some­thing that I feed on. It boosts my con­fi­dence ever so slight­ly (and tem­porar­i­ly).

It creeps me out when peo­ple touch my chain. Only three peo­ple have ever touched it (includ­ing an ex), and it real­ly does­n’t make me com­fort­able. I guess I see it as a child­ish fas­ci­na­tion when peo­ple feel the need to play with it.

Assumed it would be Easy

I saw an inter­est­ing inter­view yes­ter­day on Vicki. A man and his team had been the first to boat down the ama­zon rapids in a par­tic­u­lar path. They all took turns pad­dling, while they all ate, slept, and cooked in rota­tion, in the boat. It became their life for at least two months (I remem­ber it as six, but I can’t con­firm). When they final­ly fin­ished the trek, and emerged from the base of the riv­er, they had mixed emo­tions. They were hap­py that they fin­ished a very life-threat­en­ing jour­ney and sur­vived, hap­py that they had the ener­gy and tal­ent enough to com­plete it. However, they were also sad that their life was going to become a lot more com­pli­cat­ed again. That they would now have to answer phone calls, reply to e‑mail, get stuck in traf­fic.

It made me won­der if I would ever be able to feel that way. If I could stay away from my plea­sure box long enough, that I would for­get about it, and actu­al­ly regret hav­ing to delete my spam, or hav­ing to answer mes­sages from extreme­ly annoy­ing peo­ple. What could pos­si­bly make me for­get my beau­ti­ful music, or my com­fort­ing inter­face? I’m sure that there have been times where I left my apart­ment, for home, and I nev­er once thought of my com­put­er. This could­n’t have been more than two weeks, to be sure, so I haven’t actu­al­ly been able to test the lim­its of my depen­den­cy. Of course, one should always have more than one pas­sion, and I believe that I do, though some are more in prac­tice than oth­ers. Without my pas­sions, I am with­out being, and with­out my com­put­er, I am with­out my main pas­sion. Pita asked me if I would join him in ball­room danc­ing, but I refused when he asked (though after some care­ful con­sid­er­a­tion), cit­ing time con­straints as being too much of a hur­dle.

I believe, or hope at least, that I am cos­mopoli­tan enough to be able to pick up anoth­er pas­sion, should the need arise. Passions are my drug; some­thing that I can get into, be good at, stand out in, make a dif­fer­ence at. I’ve always need­ed that form of recog­ni­tion. I’ve always need­ed to know that I’m good at some­thing. Perhaps this need will go away when I gain some much need­ed self-con­fi­dence, when I can accept my past, and choose to be the per­son that I am.

No one said it would be fast.