Thursday, July 10, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
It’s Friday night, or Saturday morning; it’s all the same bag of shit. Originally plans of a well deserved rest starting around 9pm were suggested. Internally I was not ready for sleep. A great amount of restlessness was still rolling around in my gourd, so all intentions had been lost. The alarm next to me now read 1:45am an unnerving sight as I was to be at work in less than 4 hours. My determination towards much of anything had recently fallen by the way side. A break is needed from my drab repetitively routine, money hungry life. The beginnings of a new semester; a rather minor yet momentous occasion in which, I will take part in “higher” education. The taste of beer and cigarettes once again tempted my senses, lack of freedom, and my parents roof wearing me thin were all reminding me that summer is much less of a vacation than I had remembered as a child. It could be the details of uncertainty that rattled my brain. The rest of my life ahead of me, and distractions amass my post-teen existence. My days of irresponsibility have passed, and thoughts of the future must now be accommodated. It has become a cumbersome burden now, a stress and an unpreventable necessity. This year being the first to affect my life, details of future plans were slowly being poured out, like an icy pitcher of water, I was slowing drowning. Deviating from my original plans, those that wouldn’t provide financial independence, but free my mind. The path I approach now will allow fiscal stability, but will I soon become a sheep? The determining factors of my education were now coming down to my ability to reform to the point of wearing a suit and a tie every day. My inability to picture myself in anything more than business casual was causing me to become nauseous at this approaching realization. What happened to the days of free thought in technology? Jobs and Wozniak had poked fun at the white collar worker, those who were led like sheep by a shepherd at their IBM desk jobs. I idolize the original faces of Apple, the free spirits whom shook the world with their ideas of a consumer brand of computing, the distribution of power by providing an in home outlet for people to explore that which once was only housed in large office buildings, and rooms the size or gymnasiums. They took a different path and by doing so changed the world, allowing it to spin faster. Their dreams were not based around a suit and tie, but a t-shirt, black turtleneck, and a simple pair of faded blue jeans. These were the men who allowed the world to change. Not the sheep, nor the shepherd, but the wolf, barking and biting until the world of private technology became public, and the personal computer had become their well deserved meal.
It's a cold night in Minnesota; the kind that makes hell freezing over sound like a welcome paradise. The heat in my house is at a minimum, and my bones are chilled to the level of a meat locker. I recently return from a trip to the twin cities; a welcome escape from the doldrum attitude of small town America, but also a welcome reminder of how busy life can be, and how unacceptably boring it currently is.I returned to the city to visit a friend, his post graduation life was one that I envied, and also provided me incentive to get my shit together. Trapped in a passive state for the last few months, it is nice to provide myself with structure, and an end goal to shoot for. I am currently at a bend in the road; about 85 degrees from normal, but I have decided to continue on the path. Recently dismissed from an accredited university. I now must rely on the school of Logan. My theories, and curriculum are a lot less complicated, i can't see myself shoving useless information down my own throat. My skills are varying, but in a set would sell for good money on ebay; if the right buyer is looking.I was never meant for the standard "college education," I am overly unconventional about the whole experience. My brain is not wired to learn in that environment. When speaking on the subject of language; immersion is the "key," but yet we still teach in classrooms, and D's still get degrees.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
And so it comes again, my writing; though some of you may despise it, it happens only when inspiration arises, and so, now on a busy night filled with both laundry, television, and a few drinks I bring forth my choice words. I was never the writing type as a youth, most of the words were trumpeted from my young mouth, usually above my “inside voice.” My mother had the nickname for me “noise-in-motion”, and I never disappointed. The rupturing of silence in a classroom was a holy affair, I looked forward to it, and my classmates never minded much either. There were the few over achievers who regarded me as annoying, but I always regarded them as lame and socially awkward. My teachers would often squawk, and throw suggestions of shutting up my way, but the social aspect of the classroom was often too much to control. I could start a conversation with the entire classroom before the teacher would notice, and by that time, it was us against them. A classroom of noisy fourth graders is a force to be reckoned with. Surprisingly English was my worst subject. My punctuation sucked, my grammar was subpar, and my spelling was below average. I would often wait until the last moment to write a paper, and turn it in only half revised, and partially completed. My grades were less than exceptional in any subject, but for a language I speak extremely fluently, I could not write worth shit. My writing has matured though, as has everything else, my thoughts more complex, and my life more complicated. The nature of my writing has also matured. I have moved from writing about the random piece of shit literature my teachers had shoved down my throat, and I now enjoy writing of the nature, and inconsistency of my college life. Though my life’s aspirations are still unclear, I can assure myself now that writing is one of the things that I enjoy the most. It is third, women, and drugs are first and second, but in no definite order. A choice of that magnitude would require professional evaluation. Something I have no money allocated for, and no insurance to cover. Never as a child did I think that I would sit down and enjoy doing this. The drudgery of primary school had dulled my senses of the possibility of actually enjoying putting words on paper. I often enjoyed art, I could put images on paper and enjoy it, but images had never appeared in my writing before college. It could be the overabundance of inspiration, or my tendency to smoke too much cannabis, but either way change occurred.I think the first time I truly found myself enjoying writing was on the morning of Valentine’s Day. I realized that all of my pent up criticism, cynicism, and sarcasm could be released. Although I had released such before, but the negative effects of kicking the shit out of someone had only landed me in the principal’s office at school, and so I had built a wall. Gorbachev would have been envious, but it left me frustrated. There had been events in my life that had built it brick by brick, the divorce of my parents had laid the foundation, but the occurrence of other events had added to it and soon NASA had contacted me notifying of its visibility from space. China, you have nothing on me, you communist bitches. The wall was nothing bad, it did not restrict or retain, it only allowed me to observe what was directly in front of my eyes, the grass was not greener on the other side because I could not see it, and behind it I was safe, my temper never deviated from calm, and my moods could only be inspired by those who dare pass through the gates. Few friends had reached this status, and the majority of people I conspired with were what I considered elevated acquaintances. I had only a few friends behind the gate, and others could deliver by air mail. My inspiration could be considered environmental, but don’t have the wrong idea. In my writing I have never pulled out any sappy shit about mother earth, trees, and the wind. It’s a waste of time, and to be blunt save me the fucking hoopla. I’ll just open my front door, and see for myself, and guess what? I may actually have a better time than sitting in an arm chair, and reading some bullshit poetry. I write about the nature of man, the behavior of others, and the generally random and oblivious yet stimulating occurrences that all piece together to be what is life. You can consider me a hack, nothing but a puppet of the times, but I am much more. I am a writer.Writing has opened the gate, and broken down the wall that once stood; the eighth wonder of the world has vanished. NASA has no idea what the hell to think, the Chinese are once again as red as ever, and I have finally realized that the grass is greener on the other side, but I’ll stay on my own lawn for awhile. My writing has enabled, and allowed me to live. No more airmail delivery, come right in the doors open. My cynical, sarcastic, and rude sense still lingers, it’s something I’ll hold on to, a souvenir and inspirational baggage. My writing will not change; I will be the same asshole as before, but without limitation, and a hell of a lot more outspoken.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
It's been a while since I have written on here. Almost an eternity actually. My life has been hectic, and unorganized, and now I am finally getting back into a place where I can allow myself to get back on track with my writing. I cannot guarantee that this will be on a daily or even a weekly basis. My life is still busy, as I have new roles emerging everyday, but these roles allow me more free time, I have a set schedule, and the ability to set aside time during my busy work day to sit and write for a minute or two. I have moved, I now live in the Uptown area of Minneapolis, MN. I enjoy the urban and suburban convergence of this area very much, as I wake up in the morning I can still see lovely homes in my area, but the metropolitan life is only a stone's throw away, and anytime excitement is needed, I am able to jump in my car, and putter down the road to find some excitement. I needed this kind of availability of fun, I am only 20, but I have put myself in a corporate career, and the repercussions of this were not completely evident at the the time of acceptance. I love working, and I love the paychecks on payday, but the corporate slum, and flourescent tan that I am developing from sitting in the office all day wears on an individual. I am happy though, and that is all that really counts. I now have a girlfriend, she was studying abroad in spain, and now has returned home, and our relationship is working as beautifully locally as it was remotely, and I constantly look forward to a beautiful future with her. I love her, and I love the time she spends in my 3rd floor walk up. Wherever I am I wish she was there, and whenever she's not, I know she's thinking of me. I am now sitting in my cubicle at work, deviously taking time away from my duldrum day to allow the world to read my thoughts. a sort of tele-kynesis, but I ommit some of my thoughts for reasons related to censorship. Like music some of my "lyrics" would be rather explicit if produced in this form, and offending indviduals is something I like to limit. I hope to continue writing on a regular basis, any support by the public is always encouraged. I'm getting back on track, and I hope you will all be hearing from me soon.