Yearly Archives: 2002

Never Too Busy For You

I was final­ly able to fin­ish the page, and anoth­er one for my cousin. I think he needs one more than I do. It feels like a nev­er end­ing stream of projects, always this or that, that I’m work­ing on. I sent in my appli­ca­tion for Big Brothers today. Just anoth­er project to add to the list. If only I was as good at fin­ish­ing projects as I was good at start­ing them. It always seems like I’m con­stant­ly busy, yet always bored. I nev­er have time for this or that, yet some­times I just sit at desk, star­ing blankly at my flick­er­ing screen, won­der­ing what I should do. Perhaps it’s just a sign that I’m get­ting old­er. Another day, anoth­er dol­lar, anoth­er irre­place­able chunk of infi­nite­ly pass­ing life­time. I think I just need some more time to relax, and just relax. One time, I was in a cafe­te­ria, when I saw a girl, sit­ting by her­self at a table. She was del­i­cate­ly tak­ing tiny bites of a cher­ry toma­to, and was just sit­ting there, look­ing out the win­dow. Not read­ing, not talk­ing with a friend, not doing any­thing, while she ate. She seemed to be able to just relax, and calm her­self with all the com­mo­tion going on around her. I was extreme­ly attract­ed to her con­fi­dence, and wished that I could be like her, that I could have the abil­i­ty to just sit at a table by myself and just eat. Perhaps it will just take some more time.

Apparently, I’m nev­er too busy for me.

Continued Shower Entries

I should end off every night with a hot show­er, and the addi­tion of an entry. I swear, it’s like ther­a­py.

I’m still wait­ing for my iPod, which should be com­ing in this week. The idea of being able to bring my entire music col­lec­tion with me wher­ev­er I go is just too tempt­ing. That way, when I need a Tool song, I can sim­ply bring it up, instead of bring­ing a Tool CD, just in case. I love you already iPod.

I hap­pened to stum­ble upon a song appar­ent­ly called Dan Automator, by Tomahawk. There’s some­thing about this song that is just speak­ing to me right now. I can’t even under­stand 90% of the lyrics, but Mike Patton just does such a great job with bit­ter­sweet emo­tion on the lyrics. The melody is just so…wrenchingly trag­ic, yet dul­cet. The only prob­lem is that I’m pret­ty sure it’s not a Tomahawk song. I saw them in con­cert once, and they did­n’t sound any­thing like this. Also, there’s a DJ called Dan the Automator whom Mike Patton worked with as a side project, and it’s just not like­ly that Tomahawk would name a song (incor­rect­ly) after him. That and the fact that the Tomahawk discogra­phies nev­er men­tion Dan Automator as a track list­ing. I wish I could get the real name for this song, so I could give it the respect of a prop­er track list­ing. I’m sur­prized that I was able to hold off on an entry yes­ter­day. Usually when I start up a page again (I don’t like the word jour­nal, because it’s not, and half the time I’m just rant­i­ng about some­thing), I’ll just flood the data­base with entries, and it will slow­ly become less fre­quent as time goes on. Of course, when I have a girl­friend, I feel I can’t write any­thing at all. It’s like my page is a girl­friend, who just lis­tens to me hate so well, and nev­er ques­tions what I’m think­ing, or why I’m think­ing it. I love you too, you porce­lain faced web­page.

I was flip­ping through some fash­ion mag­a­zines, and read about an art exhib­it being held about the evo­lu­tions of fash­ion and styles. They men­tioned a bal­loon­ing-dress by a Japanese design­er as a wit­ty piece, and a per­fo­rat­ed-wing out­fit as breath­tak­ing. The art of fash­ion has always puz­zled me; it’s some­thing that I’m com­plete­ly igno­rant of, that I don’t think I will ever under­stand unless some­one explains it to me.

Certain Uncertainty

I was sort­ing through my e‑mail today, try­ing to clean up my inbox, when I stum­bled along a stash that threw me off guard. I did­n’t think that they would affect me in any way, but they did. I did­n’t even read them; the titles just threw me.

Without these titles, these scant few words, I’m fine, and I under­stand the way things are, and the way things have worked out. Everything is log­i­cal to me, and my mind func­tions as nor­mal. But when I see these words, my mind floods with mem­o­ries, thoughts, emo­tions. I get a glimpse of what could have been.

And then I real­ize that it’s just a sliv­er of a cross-sec­tion that takes almost noth­ing of the whole sit­u­a­tion into account. Or do I? Otherwise, I would be able to stop think­ing about it, and I could just let it rest.

And yet I can’t. The good thing is that it’s not an attempt at con­vinc­ing myself of what I would like to believe. I can be pret­ty sure about this, one of the few things in a world where I might be dream­ing.

Many times it’s not know­ing that I’m right that counts, it’s the oth­er per­son know­ing that they’re wrong.

I wish I was­n’t like this at all. But I am. There has been only one time that I did­n’t feel like I need­ed anoth­er par­ty to know that I was right. And it was because the truth was so obvi­ous­ly on my side, that argu­ing about it would have been triv­ial.

Writing about this has helped. I real­ize that any­thing, pic­tures; text; or just thoughts; can bring up ideas unpro­voked. The ideas may be good or bad, but they are one’s own. The under­stand­ing that they are just super­fi­cial ideas is the most impor­tant part. It’s com­ing to terms with these ideas that sets us free.

I’m pret­ty sure.

What I Did In My Third Year Of University

I’m feel­ing very com­fort­able right now. A show­er just turned the activ­i­ty in my brain from trans­la­tion­al to vibra­tional. Writing from my sec­ond com­put­er allows me the com­fort to recline in a relax­ing seat, and the lux­u­ry of watch­ing a doc­u­men­tary on 2Pac, the thug poet from the west sii­i­ide, on my oth­er com­put­er at the same time.

Pavlov's Dogs

If one thinks about what one knows or what one feels, one should prob­a­bly come to an under­stand­ing of why one feels that way. I mean, aside from the pos­si­ble implant­i­ng of tastes, or things that you like because of influ­ences beyond your abil­i­ty to remem­ber.

An exam­ple: if one enjoys lis­ten­ing to met­al, then there should be a real­iza­tion that it might be because of the way heavy gui­tar riffs and scream­ing have a way of help­ing one deal with ones shit­ty, shit­ty life. And if ones life improves, one may not need that genre of music any­more. Of course, one may still enjoy it for what­ev­er rea­son.

Another case. If one is hit by a car, with life-threat­en­ing injuries, I’m sure that one would be less than thrilled to cross the street the day one gets out of the hos­pi­tal, let alone dri­ve home.

The two cas­es are dif­fer­ent inso­faras the lat­ter can be a life-alter­ing expe­ri­ence, where­as the for­mer is not.

And yet peo­ple, with­out hav­ing life-alter­ing expe­ri­ences, feel and act with­out ques­tion­ing why they are feel­ing or act­ing in a cer­tain way.

Pure fuck­ing sequaci­ty

I can nev­er under­stand how so many peo­ple can just act with­out think­ing, with­out under­stand­ing things, with­out suf­fi­cient knowl­edge of the sit­u­a­tion.

I’m sure I could make a poster of a Chinese man, exag­ger­at­ing all the stereo­typ­i­cal parts of his body, as a piece of art, a com­ment in itself of how per­verse peo­ple think. Would peo­ple ques­tion why I made it the way I did? Would peo­ple try and under­stand why I made the poster in the first place, before deem­ing me racist, and demand­ing that I destroy it? The answer, sad­ly, would be no. They would only feel that because it por­trays a Chinese per­son in a stereo­typ­i­cal man­ner, it is wrong. They would nev­er even ques­tion why it is wrong.

Perhaps the gov­ern­ment is just too good in doing what they do. Sure, they’ve done a good job at elim­i­nat­ing racism, but at the same time, they’ve cre­at­ed anti-racism racism. Now, hir­ing minori­ties is a neces­si­ty, even if the minor­i­ty hap­pens to not be as good at the job as some­one else.

But who can blame them? They’re just try­ing to con­trol mass­es of idiots, who can’t think for them­selves.

I wish peo­ple would actu­al­ly think, before they made a deci­sion, before they act­ed. If one does­n’t like some­one, one should ques­tion the rea­son. Don’t just act on it. One may real­ize that one was wrong in the end. If one thinks that some­one is imma­ture, one should think about it. Perhaps even look at it from a dif­fer­ent view. If one does­n’t like some­thing because of an inci­dent in the past, one should look at it in the new con­text of the present. Not just act­ing on what one has been told, or what one has felt for so long.

Pavlov should have used humans. He would­n’t even need­ed to have trained them.

God, peo­ple piss me off.