A Change of Heart

Nonsensical ramblings reside here.

Ocean Springs on 32nd Avenue

And those places we used to call home. 11:57 the next morning after waking up at 9 p.m. the previous night. People rebounding harder than the free fall we knew back before having an orchard was a thing. Like word salad from a sloppy cafe in between a town whose occupants never slept and another whose occupants never stopped working.

Remember how we could never refer to ourselves, how even the emptiest creatures were ‘sir’ or ‘could you please be a little more quiet’?
Remember when a restless matriarch could soothe a clueless robin with an effortless wink?

There were a few who just wanted to go back long enough to once again experience the cold contained in the air holding onto the back of your throat like a small child wrapped around the ankles of their daddy. It was never important where fractions came into the mix, only that when you habitually made your way close enough to the creek to see fireflies you were greeted by the only feline in the world that approached you instead of the other way around.

When did our carousel get to the state where it was not only acceptable to betray anything that had to do with a mind but to applaud and encourage when we witnessed it not only stop spinning and playing music but slowly lower itself into the water?

It was all about being grateful that you even made it in the desert in the first place, if even just to meet that one person who looked more like you than you had always imagined. It was about seeing your story from the eyes of someone who never had a story of their own, only the story that had been passed down to them as it always had from generation to generation, even if it was a mirage that resembled hiding in the closet amongst an armful of old floral dresses that nobody would ever wear again.

Maybe behind all of the layers that you understand to be facets of yourself there lies a persona that comes out only in the most ideal circumstances. We’ve all heard that we’re all still kids at heart, but don’t forget to tally the necessity of guidance as you fondly skim over the magic of dandelions once again.

Even if you take away nothing in the end, was it really your place to set out to take something to begin with?

Owl City Plug-In: An Explanation

I feel like I am undertaking a dissertation by starting this blog post, but I feel the need to finish this, or at least start it.  The topic of this post is something that has lingered on (possibly even plagued) my mind for quite a while.  I have always desired to explain all of this somewhere at some point, but the sheer intimidation of the incredible amount of thoughts and feelings I have about these topics felt overwhelming in the past.  But now, since it is Christmas break and I have a decent amount of time on my hands, I am finally free to gently push open this door.

Now, to be quite frank, ultimately, this is a post about myself.  While all of the admiration and adoration that I have for Adam Young and his work is deep and evident (yet also necessary to express), everything contained herein is directly correlated to who I think I am as a person.  Now, in order for that to make sense, I must also undergo the stressful challenge of explaining just exactly who I think I am.  I say that this is a stressful challenge because I find describing myself relatively difficult.  With many things concerning myself, I either find some sort of conflict or contradiction, or I find a quality or tendency that is troublesome to explain as I fear it makes me seem prideful.  If you don’t know this already, I am deeply apprehensive of pride, and I suppose this can top the list.  That simple fact leads to…

A Vague Overview of Who I Think I Am (at this point in my life)

Not only is this difficult for me to do in general, but it is also difficult to simply begin.  On that note, I suppose that this is an acceptable general description:

    I feel like the product of an intricate web of ideas and thoughts stricken by an unrelenting tornado of emotions, set ablaze by an abnormal worldview, and perpetuated by a combination of faith and logic

I will try to elaborate on all of these points to the best of my ability, but I feel that that majority of them speak for themselves.

An intricate web of ideas and thoughts -This is another example of something I fear may make me seem prideful (as is this whole bullet in general), but it’s basically simply a typical trait of an introvert (or an INTJ if you want to go further into personality).  The majority of the time, regardless of where I am, I’m in my own head doing the following (and probably more):  trying to figure something out, evaluating something that is going on or being said, quietly and passively judging the words and actions of people around me, thinking about what to say or do, reflecting on something that I have already said (usually resulting in the urge to go back in time to tweak my message), and sometimes even creating or identifying more problems to attempt to figure out, all of which usually lead to a completely new and different string of thoughts all coursing through my mind within a very short amount of time.  This is often what causes me to seem so disconnected with reality, especially in public.  I realize this, and that usually results in me feeling sorry for the people that I do actually manage to spend time with because I think I do understand how it must be for them being around me, feeling ignored, uninteresting, or unimportant - that I’m dismissive.  None of these negative results are intentional, of course, but seem to be unavoidable.  I feel that this description and these tendencies are evident merely in this paragraph.  As I’m typing all of this out, I’m simultaneously figuring out where exactly this piece of the puzzle (that is this blog post) fits, how it would be received by the few general people who will read this, how it would be received by the even fewer close friends who will read this, and if I feel it even meets my standards of writing, describing, or explaining (it usually doesn’t, which results in an absurd amount of time spent proofreading and editing the same paragraph or post multiple times).

An unrelenting tornado of emotions - This, to me, seems like a rather cliche metaphor, but it’s accurate nonetheless.  So, in contrast to the thoughts that I have described in the last paragraph which are typically objective and impersonal, we have (again occurring simultaneously) emotions that are typically subjective and people-oriented.  This is one of the examples of a clash that I mentioned before.  Typically my thoughts are influenced mainly by logic and rationality whereas certain emotions are more easily influenced by a lack of the two.  This is not to say that they do not influence each other or that they are completely disconnected (that would be even more confusing), but the combination of thought and emotion is usually what causes a clash (even concerning just the two).  For instance, if I gaze upon the glorious examples of a degenerate youth, the thoughts produced are initially negative and distasteful, whereas emotionally I feel very attached and fond of people.  So what results is a thought process that goes from judgement (you can’t tell me that we don’t all experience this initial stage), which is then influenced by emotions such as compassion and empathy, which then produces a clash of the original judgmental thoughts and the final product of forgiving and understanding thoughts.  Because of this, just being present in most public places and sometimes even around friends or acquaintances results in miniature mental crises.  This is not really a main reason as to why I prefer to be either alone in a quiet place or in the company of a few very particularly close friends, but it most certainly contributes.

Set ablaze by an abnormal worldview - Again, this seems very cliche, but also very accurate.  I believe I am able to vaguely recall some of the first times in which I was introduced to the concept of a “worldview.”  I think one of the most accurate descriptions that I heard was something along the lines of a worldview being a filter, like a pair of glasses that affects how you see the world and the many things it contains.  Now, a worldview, a filter, is comprised of many different components that act to filter and deliver what exactly you see in the world.  I can’t say that I can identify the main components of the worldviews of others, but for me, my worldview is composed of two main components:  a strong Christian faith and an inquisitive, curious, and skeptical mentality.  Now, I realize that to some people these two components seem contradictory, but I assure you that they are not.  The justification for this claim is something that I plan to spend a lifetime explaining, but now is not the time nor is this particular post the place (entirely).  I use the phrase “set ablaze” because this worldview, like I mentioned, acts as a filter.  My worldview, to me, acts as a flame in that it purifies everything that is presented to me, whether that be an idea, a thought, a person, a means of government, etc. 

Perpetuated by a combination of faith and logic - This last clause is hopefully pretty straight-forward.  Everything that I’ve just mentioned, everything about me, is a product of and is fueled by this combination of faith and logic.  Hopefully you see the obvious connection between these two things and the two components of my worldview as they act hand-in-hand.

So there you have it, a general daisy-chain of who I am:

Ideas and thoughts mutually affecting emotions which are all filtered through a worldview that revolves around and is based upon faith and logic.

Now that you hopefully understand who I am a bit better (but I would understand if you didn’t; I’m a mess), I think I can continue with the main point.  One of the main reasons that I am so fond of Owl City is because of the mastermind: Adam Young.  I’m not claiming to be a genius; I am rather confident that I am unable to produce the pure, tangible joy that is his music, but I feel very similar to him as a person.  Which leads me to the next point…

The Traits of Adam Young and the Correlation to Myself (or what I try to be) [1] or What I Admire (but am not) [2]

  •     Devout Christian [1]
  •     Shy [2]
  •     Socially Introverted [1]
  •     Innocent Mentality [1]
  •     Lover of Poetry [1]
  •     Modest [1]
  •     Lover of Music, Instrumentals, Synthpop, Electronic [1]
  •     Kindhearted and Graceful [1]
  •     Dreamer [1]
  •     Strong-willed with Convictions [1]
  •     Insomniac [1]
  •     Sense of Humor of a Playful Troll [1] (Check his Twitter)

There are many other things that I admire about Adam Young, but I won’t add them here because the list would end up being ridiculously long, and it may make me seem like something isn’t right in my head - that I could possibly be the kind of person that would find out where Adam Young lives, wait somewhere outside, and steal his trash when it was taken out.

If you truly know me or understand me as a person, then you most likely know that there aren’t very many things (if any) that I do or say that aren’t preceded by an extensive string of thoughts or meditation.  That being said, there are many reasons for my deep appreciation (perhaps even passion) for Owl City besides how I feel about Adam Young.

I think the main reason that I look up to Adam as much as I do is because he is a devout Christian in a very anti-Christian industry.  He has successfully achieved both fame and wealth, yet continues to ascribe his success to God and revolve his work around his faith.  He is in a very susceptible position of falling into drugs, greed, or pride, but he doesn’t seem to let any of this get to his head and continues to walk along the narrow path of Christ.  Because of this, he is one of my main, worldly sources of inspiration.  I love who he is and what he is doing, and this passion penetrates every layer of his work.  I love his art, I love his music, I love his lyrics.  Everything he stands for, everything he produces, feels so in sync with who I am.

In sum, Adam Young’s work embodies qualities of myself that may not be evident to people who don’t actually know me.  If you read the general overview of myself, you have a slight understanding of how my brain works.  I touched on this topic, but how my brain works probably creates the image that I’m reserved, pompous, shy, or stern.

Part of the reason of this post is because that’s not who I truly am, and there are many things about who I truly am that I am afraid to display in public.  On the inside in terms of feelings and emotions, in reality, I’m much like a child.  I deeply appreciate the innocence in so many things (although I do find certain things corny).  I’m naturally compassionate, and I empathize with people; I feel for their troubles, concerns, and pain.  To society, this trait and the traits I will go on to explain are considered “girly” or immasculine.  Even so, it doesn’t take away from the fact that this is who I truly am.  I’m not a typical guy.  I’m not manly, and I am not so prideful or concerned about my image that I’m afraid to express that.  I’m a lover.  Of all the things in the world that I want in my lifetime, love falls on the top of that list.  I look forward every day to finding a woman who understands me, loves God as much as I do, and would love me as much as I would love her - a woman with whom I could foster a warm, understanding, loving family and grow old (if God wills it).  If I said all of this in public, I would imagine that pretty much any guy around me would exclaim, “GAY!”, but this is exactly what I mean.  I love all of those sensitive, lovey things, and I’m in a world, in a generation, that considers those things “gay” or “lame” - a time where there seems to be more hatred, disdain, conflict, and disagreement than there is love and harmony.  I’m not saying that the world has ever not been this way, but I’m saying I feel like I’m stuck in a time where it’s much worse.  Just listen to any of Adam Young’s songs, and who and what I am describing is exactly what is being conveyed - through both the music and the lyrics.

This is the explanation for the passion.

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This is not a Letter

It is pleasant getting to speak with you again.  I know it has been quite a while since we have - with no distractions, nothing to whisk away such a strong mental connection.  I know that it’s been difficult for you, this journey.  It hasn’t even felt like a journey, has it?  More of a prison, an entrapment.  All of that is over now.  You’ve experienced the freedom of other worlds, other mediums, other people.  It’s time now that you experience that same freedom in the parts of your life that you deem the most important - the ones that facilitate the most growth, mentally and otherwise. 

I think you seem paranoid that what may be so important to you is actually very trivial to others.  I think you underestimate the value of a type of communication that you don’t often share.  It so often seems that you are so open to sharing thoughts, concerns, and opinions with people, but you feel that either people don’t or shouldn’t care or that you’ll end up somehow making a fool of yourself.  Remember that paramount restraint?  I hope that the realization of it will cause you to expel it as you have done so many times in the past.  I hope that you continue to change in ways that have surprised me throughout the time that I’ve known you.  I hope you refrain from responding with playful, yet sarcastic, sinister remarks, but if you don’t, I can’t say that I haven’t become accustomed to it by now.  Accepting your tendencies was never a challenging thing for me.  All of that aside, I truly wish that you will always consider the very select people who you have come to know so well and have grown so close to and alongside.  I hope that you will realize that opportunity that has been presented to you, that those very people may glimpse into yet another disjointed dialogue with some sort of understanding, and emerge with something of a token - perhaps a new understanding or perspective, or at least something that will stick.  Even if such a thing is reaped but is negative, is this not still a catalyst of growth?  Maybe not the same or intended understanding, but an understanding nonetheless.  At the very least, the opportunity exists.  It is up to you and only you to continue to provide it.  You have come this far, haven’t you? 

Please don’t venture into blasphemy for the sake of pride or self-esteem.  I hope that you never sacrifice something so meaningful and important for something so temporary.  You’ve never been one to retain such a mindset, but that doesn’t mean that you are completely insusceptible or invulnerable.  I know you’ve always been so aware of the downfall of other great characters, but I fear your approach creates some sort of psychological loophole.  Never forget that you are still capable of the same exact fallacies of others.  Don’t slip into a god complex.

If you’ve managed to read to this point, I hope you’ve managed to fairly evaluate the concerns brought up before.  Please do not believe that all of this is intended solely for you.  If you truly value what you profess, do not falter here.

And if you truly long for such an image of purity and void, redirect more effort into an appreciation for it when it does come.  Or dwell on the fears and apprehension that it so gracefully delivers.  Many may realize what contradictory beings they are, but fail to properly address the issues that arise from being such.  I know how much you value individualism, so pursue these openings for differentiation.  I also realize the trust and admiration you hold for a stable, sound, tested model, but on such worldly and social bases, I urge you to consider alternate solutions more carefully. 

Continue to identify the pitfalls of every scenario and environment that you’ve been exposed to up to this point, continue to expose yourself to such things, and I am confident that you will remain safe.

But if you feel that traversing various mental tracts is difficult, I would advise you to immediately change your course. 

Because it will only become increasingly difficult from here.

And I’m Okay With It

Have you ever just taken the time to sit alone in a room and just… write?  I haven’t.  Everything that I can clearly recall writing has been carefully planned, envisioned, and analyzed, just like everything else in my life.  I don’t know what to think of that, which is odd, because that’s what I’m supposed to do: think… right?  So that’s what happens; I end up thinking.  How long do I go about thinking?  However long it takes.  However long it takes?  What does that mean?  I don’t know.  I guess it means… you go until you feel like you’ve reached something.  Well, you know what?  I think that’s why I never stop thinking.  What is it that I’m supposed to reach?  How will I know when I have reached it?  What exactly is the use in attempting to solve a problem that you haven’t actually identified yet?  As with many other questions, I don’t believe I have the answers to these.  Who is posing these questions, anyway?  Is it you, the audience?  Or is this an internal dialogue with myself?  Or is it just a means of causing a comfortable stream of words?  Again, I refuse to present possible answers to those questions.  It’s either for you to find out, or for you to believe that I don’t actually have any answers.  Do I care either way?  I can’t honestly say that I do.  When was the last time I truly cared about what a person thought about me, anyway?  I guess everyone does actually care about what people think, but to what extent?  Honestly, I don’t think I’ve identified that boundary for myself.  I’m not sure that I care to.  Ironic, right?  The world seems like a rather ironic place, but is that true only for those who can identify the particular instances in which it is such? 

And this is what I am left with: questions.  Not even important questions - not even questions that I desire to be answered.  Just questions.  They sound nice to me.  They give my brain something to figure out.  That’s what someone like me needs, right? Something to figure out?  If I really am alone on a bus, staring out of a window but not necessarily paying attention to what lies outside of it… what do I do?  What do I think about?  Does my mind immediately find some sort of problem in my life?  In another’s life?  If finding out where my heart is involves realizing where my mind goes when it wanders, does that mean that I don’t know where my heart is?  I don’t believe that’s true at all.  I can easily list many things that strike that area of myself. 

I think it’s nice to write when your mind is at that degenerate state of exhaustion.  I have a feeling that everything is communicated more clearly.  There isn’t that constant consideration of what sounds nicer, what words fit better, and of how things should be formatted.  I am not concerned at all of what people think of this post.  If I am to be true to the purpose of this medium, should I not remove all mental restraints?  What have I really been waiting for this whole time?  Was there really some sort of pressure behind what I was producing?  Perhaps.  There’s an answer for you - an answer I present often: perhaps.  Why does everything have to be so absolute?  Is it truly?  Why is it that people become upset when I respond to an invitation with “most likely” or “maybe”?  How am I to know whether or not I will even still be present in the future?  Is “most likely” not the most appropriate answer?  Perhaps not the most appropriate socially.  But I guess that’s another root of things: So much about me is not socially appropriate.  And guess what.  I don’t care.  That, I can say with audacity.  I realize the danger that this admission presents.  People don’t respond nicely to those who act in such ways.  I can understand being upset if I affect you physically, but emotionally?  I’m sorry, but I just wish people would get over themselves.  But who knows, this could all just be a product of my personality.  Logic and rationality is cold and emotionless at times, right?  That may be true, but I’ll always consider myself a compassionate person.  I don’t actively and deliberately target people to cut down - or I try my best not to, anyway.  I do wish to exemplify what I stand for, but I often find that a sense of rebellion exists.  Why is everything so uniform?  Uniform outside of superficiality.  I suppose those are future topics - topics that aren’t important enough for a wall of text, but can be spliced together into something remotely presentable.

So that’s it.  Meaningless text in a meaningless place.  Bits and bytes in cyberspace, isn’t it?  Is it not interesting that something so menial and insignificant can reap such endearing or intimidating responses?  Why am I bound to this state of mind?  Am I not able to venture into the realms of other peoples’ interests?  Do I not possess the same capabilities of others with different personalities and worldviews?  We’ll toss the trifecta, make it duple.  If you don’t want to take the responsibility, I’ll do it myself.  I can take full control of some things, can’t I?  Or does everything have to be influenced by a higher power?  I guess it means something to me in an artistic sense.  I guess nobody can truly take away from me what all of this represents… to me.  It may not matter to anybody else in the world, but it’s mine.  Haven’t you heard that before?  We are a greedy race, an entitled race.  Can’t I occasionally peer into forbidden hopes, dreams, desires, and knowledge?  What does that even matter anyway?  What power does one have who actually does make it that far?  Hovering on the topic of our species, I guess it’s true that we are a reactive people.  We’ve never really been too concerned with the long term.  But that’s all I’ve known throughout my life: the long term.  If you’re going to make a ruling based on a possibility, why do you deliberately ignore all contingencies?  It’s detrimental to make such subjective choices on such an objective plane.  That’s okay though.  It works for some.

And so a reclusive signal arises.  A spread of every possibility, every thought, every action, every route, plan, feeling… all in one place.  If it’s healthy to run, run now.  Run forever.  If you don’t look back, maybe you’ll end up exactly where you want to be.  Exactly where you’re supposed to be.  If they don’t catch you, and if they aren’t waiting for you where you are headed, fade away.  You think it’s a fall back plan, but it’s not.  We all need it, and we all need you to do exactly as you realize you must do.  If not for you, for who else?  If not because of you, from whom will this effect be initialized?  If you don’t strike the match against the box, can it not be lit?  Why is everything so restrictive?  Why is everything communicated over one channel?  If you really want to be free, follow on the heading you’ve actually been following this whole time.  Even if you just realized in what direction you were walking. 

Wasted food, wasted potential, and a lack of pragmatism.  That edgy, sharp concern that you didn’t act upon.  It’s all here.  It’s everywhere.

It’s only fitting that I leave on the same note on which I arrived.

A string of words with absolutely no meaning or even an ending ring in your head incessantly. 

And that’s all that I find here.

Confessions of a “Teenage” Drama-less King

I saved this post as a draft God knows how long ago, so not all of this is as true as it might have been at whatever time this was written, but I figure I’ll publish it and create yet another foundation for another series of posts.  As tedious as this blogging thing may be, I still enjoy it.  Anyways… another note:

I knew I would be referencing my first post frequently.  I look back at the words of my former self and smile.  I smile partially because I realize I’m not the same person - that I was slightly less enlightened back then - and also because I somehow managed to predict what I would be like in the future.  I guess I can bring myself to commend my former self for that.  So, former self, I commend you.  (Also, as I read back on this, I noted that I didn’t actually smile, but I assure you, whoever you may be, I was amused.)

I was tempted (if that’s the most accurate choice of word, which, as experience dictates, it most likely isn’t) to write about all that has changed in my life - all that has happened.  I just may end up doing that eventually, but I guess I’m thinking that now just isn’t the time.  For one, I wouldn’t want to spend too much time writing about things that wouldn’t appeal to anybody but myself (now that I think about it, a blog that acts as a journal wouldn’t be too detrimental to my life).  Secondly, I’m not even sure what exactly I would say (not that it matters). 

So, after those paragraphs that reflect my tendency to ramble (which I have come to expect, of course), I will reveal (as if I needed to) what my purpose in writing this is.  I guess I partially need an outlet.  I think I feel as if nobody truly understands certain things about me that I would like them to understand.  I’m not naive (in this sense); I realize that a great number of these things are probably not inferable to the vast majority of the people in my life.  I understand that I can be rather enigmatic (if that may be interpreted as conceit, so be it) and… well, I suppose it would suffice to say that I have a number of masks, a number of walls, and a number of highly unusual tendencies.  Going back, you may wonder why I bother revealing some of these things in this post.  This is what I meant in my first paragraph, regarding my audience.  I’ll save you the time if you haven’t read that archaic post:  If you’re reading this, I consider you “worthy” (yeah, the conceit thing again, I know).  If you bother to take the time to read the things that I post here, I consider you my audience.  I realize I don’t publicize this archive of text, as it isn’t anything worth (ah, yes) publicizing, and that this isn’t some holy grail of literature.  I write what I write to write.  It’s as “simple” as that.  Also, refer to the outlet concept again.  

I’ve seen friends participating in random confessions via Facebook.  During the time that this practice of posting a status stating something along the lines of “For every like, I’ll confess something”, I refrained.  I did so not because I didn’t like the idea, but because I didn’t feel that Facebook was a suitable medium for such a practice.  It may be the isolation and lack of a “mass” following (not that this applies to my profile on Facebook), but I feel that Tumblr is a much more intimate place, so I have chosen to do this here.  As with most things, I’ll probably “jot down” a slew of confessions on this post only to end up with thinking of another mouthful.  I may just continue to edit this post, as most of these “confessions” most likely do not deserve a whole post dedicated to them.  I realize the very few people that read this to begin with won’t continue to read it as I edit it, so I may just start adding a confession to each post after this one.  Who knows?  Yeah, not me (as usual).  Again, it’s not that it matters, so here “it” goes…

1.  I haven’t lived here my whole life.  (Not a confession, I know, but not all people seem to realize this.  Also, I really didn’t want to start off with something dramatic and/or shocking.)

2.  I don’t really have insomnia.  (I just seem to conform to a nocturnal schedule during periods in which I don’t have to worry about waking up for school.  I’m in love with the night.  I don’t know why, but I guess that’s just how love works - You can’t really explain it, you just know it.  You can give reasons, but it may not make sense.  I like walking at night.  I like that it isn’t hot (I hate the heat).  I like the feeling of isolation (as “emo” as that may sound).  I’m a heavy thinker, and that isolation compliments my ability to think clearly.  I like the nature of the night.  I like bugs, frogs, stray cats, etc.  I guess on some deeper level, I really do appreciate the isolation (I can be a loner at times), but I’ve noticed that when I’m up at night, I strongly desire some special person to share that time with - a close friend, a long-lost family member, someone special to me.  I like being able to watch the sunrise, although I normally sleep soon after it does.  In short, I’ll just say that I’m simply enchanted by the night.)

Afterthought:  When I think about this extensively, I seem to repeatedly reach the conclusion that I believe that I am, in fact, an insomniac.  I am editing this at 4 o’clock in the morning, so everything seems in order.

3.  I don’t fit in with my immediate family.  (I realize that this may seem like something a person my age may typically say, but it’s very true.  I’m left handed.  Nobody in my immediate family is left handed.  My taste in music doesn’t make sense to me, especially when I think about it in terms of a “nurture” perspective psychologically.  I don’t share the same sense of humor.  I don’t feel that I act the same way.  I don’t feel that I think the same way.  I don’t feel that I necessarily connect on an intellectual level (with two of them for sure, but still, all of them, for the most part).  They aren’t “nocturnal”.  I don’t feel that they’re as expressive.  We don’t share the same interests (for the most part).  Most of them don’t like the same foods, activities, etc.  I’m more philosophical.  I’m more sensitive-ish (maybe).  I’m more complicated (it seems).  As far as I know, they don’t write (or don’t have time to).  Most of them don’t seem as open-minded.  I realize that all of these things are subjective, so don’t take them as truth.  They are simply how I feel (at the moment… and how I feel seems to fluctuate often.)

Nocturnal Thoughts #1

Although I would hope that the title and motif of this post is self-explanatory, I still feel obligated to provide some sort of introduction before delving into the madness that lies within what I believe to be my mind…

So often do I find myself awake at some absurd hour (2 a.m. or something like that), sitting in complete silence save the whirring of my laptop fans and/or the ambient sounds of the great, nocturnal outdoors, staring at some screen or the blank space of the room, enduring the endless stream of thoughts that bombard my passive brain.  This occurs on a nearly everyday basis, so I figured I might as well start documenting these thoughts.  

I don’t see my thoughts as being anything excessively valuable, but I feel as though documenting them will benefit me in some way.  Along with providing me a method of venting, I have a feeling that these posts may act as something like a journal.  I have a tendency of revisiting old materials that I have produced with pleasure, and I thoroughly appreciate this.  I don’t really expect anybody to browse through these, much less do I expect someone to do so with commitment, but if these spontaneous writings happen to bring anybody any increment of happiness, amusement, or entertainment, I’ll feel more at ease with spending the little time I have to simply write.

Now, to explain the format (or lack thereof):  These posts will most likely appear as a slew of random thoughts, and if this is how they appear to you, congratulate yourself many times over for your ability to see and to sustain rudimentary cognitive processes.

Now that all of that is out of the way:

The Owl City concert starts in 15 hours… and I still can’t wait.

I hope my recently-purchased GPS doesn’t lead me deep into the wilderness, from which I am not able to return, thus inhibiting me from sharing the inevitably-obtained, hilarious anecdote of my experiences with impending death.

I can’t believe Ben Gibbard and Zooey Deschanel are getting divorced.  My heart is broken for both sides.

In actually paying attention to the overwhelming flow of thoughts I receive, I realize that there are many subjects on which I could construct more blog posts, which is almost irritating as I can hardly ever produce worthwhile ideas when I actually intend on writing extensively on some topic.

Well, I’m going to leave this post as abrupt as possible.  At least now I have a foundation for a time when I want to carelessly dump ideas into cyber space.

Rants ‘N Such #2 (The Bachelor/Bachelorette)

Alright, where to start (or should I say “restart”)? I realize I haven’t blogged in a time period nearly equivalent to the time it takes a high school senior to complete a seemingly unimportant and unnecessary assignment before a deceivingly distant deadline, but do not fret, unaware non-masses! Although I would like to assure you that I will be recording my frequent, mundane thoughts as often as I am able, I cannot, as I probably promised myself that I would do just that the moment I started to take blogging seriously, ending with the same disappointing conclusion. 

Firstly, I would like to explain that I did indeed attempt to blog on a couple occasions over the past few months, but, obviously, to no avail. Unfortunately, on those occasions, I would word-vomit from my brain to my fingers to my keyboard thus producing a few unintelligible, hardly-captivating, pitiful excuses for sentences. As I inevitably reread what I had typed, I simply closed my eerily reliable web browser each time, took a few steps backwards, collapsed onto my consistently unmade bed, and proceeded to sob myself into sleep-hangover inducing comas. I believe there will be time after the show for my dwindling audience to thank me for doing this numerous times.

Anyways, I would also like to point out the pure genius of titling my last rant with a “#1” as an ugly, pseudo-suffix tagalong. I accurately predicted that, at some point in the future, I would snap into another fit of emotionless rage which forced me to utilize my impressive typing speed of about 95+ WPM (after some finger, hand, and wrist exercises) to express my horrendous feelings of disgust concerning some random aspect of the world or society. William, you are the man, man. 

Alright, moving on: The topic of this rant shall be The Bachelor/ette. Yeah, girlfriend, grab the chocolate, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, and whatever other comfort foods you may have lying around somewhere - I just went there. I know at least one of you fantastic role-model-type people probably enjoys this show, so please, if you care that much about its metaphoric dignity, execute the actions specified in the second paragraph (concerning an eery web browser).

Seriously though, I pretty much despise this show. My mom (oh, the Filipinos - you may know what I’m talking about, Carissa, provided you’re reading this) thoroughly enjoys this show. Unfortunately, this typically vile product of mainstream media happens to come on around the time my family partakes in its later-than-most-Americans dinner. My mom enjoys it so much that if it happens to be on during the time she is cooking, she will crank up the volume on the television a few notches so that she can listen to it while she’s in the kitchen. I suppose I can be thankful that she doesn’t simply neglect making dinner because the show is on though. Regardless, this program is utter ridiculousness, in my opinion.

Okay, there is one main thing that so obviously annoys me about this show:  One person dates twenty-five other people at the same (oh my gosh I almost typed an obscenity) time. Seriously, how is this just accepted? Solely because of this I ask, how can people watch this show? Because of this and the sick, corrupted mind of whoever created this show (Mike Fleiss), one of the recurring themes of this abomination is jealousy. This also entices some of the men and women to do absurd and usually downright embarrassing things just to get attention - which the mindless audience gladly “eats up”. I still can’t wrap my mind around why someone would willingly date someone who is dating about twenty other people right in front of them. Is it the “fame” that comes with being on national television? Is it the primal instinct of humans to compete for a mate? I’ll continue on that note…

As with pretty much every other reality show, I believe it’s all scripted. This belief may just be a byproduct of me being a conspiracy theorist and all, but seriously, some of the shenanigans that transpire on this show are just a bit too ridiculous for me to believe. I mean sure, like I said, people will do crazy things because they are on national television, but after so many people willingly demean and humiliate themselves in front of such a large audience, I start to call bee-ess.

There was one episode where one of the girls brought the bachelor home to meet her child. Throughout the episode, it was mercilessly emphasized that if the woman’s child didn’t like or get along with the bachelor, the relationship would be a problem. Rocket science/brain surgery, I know. So the bachelor arrives and sees the kid for the first time. The kid pretty much ignores him and the camera constantly cuts to the rejected face of the bachelor as the child repeatedly refuses to speak directly to him or stand remotely close to him. Much of the episode is spent on dramatic monologues of the mother and heartbroken slurs from the meat-head bachelor, and at the end… guess what? Yeah, the bachelor gives the kid some cheap, generic toy and the two are best of buddies, thus ending hunger, poverty, and worldwide wars, corrupt governments, and media-backed lies, providing for a perfect, happy world.

There was another unbelievable plot during one season where one of the female contestants (haha, contestants) allegedly had intercourse with one of the crew members. It pulsed shock waves of discouragement and disbelief through the whole set as cameras cut dramatically to distraught faces accompanied by short, loud sound effects. Oddly enough (lol), this contestant denied all claims of such affairs… which she conveniently failed to do during the season as she fled like a pale person when confronted with a lack of sunscreen on a beach in August. Oh, the silly things that happen on reality television.

The last problems I have with this fail-blob of abhorrence concern the statistics regarding relationships after the seasons end. According to the almighty Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Bachelor_(TV_series), the bachelors from seasons 1-12 all ended up breaking up - a streak only broken by the thirteenth season of a bachelor calling off an engagement to pursue a runner-up from that season. And yes, another streak was started that continues until now, and The Bachelorette doesn’t have a more impressive track record. In conclusion, this show is terrible. While we’re on the topic of reality television though, any of the others aren’t any better, and some are far worse. It blows my mind that this is a possibility, but this is the world we live in.

Edith Whartortle (An Essay for Claudia Normand)

Edith Whartortle, renowned for her infamous Pokemon Edithine, the Golbat, was a Great Ball using, slash learning, seed planting, Professor Oak taunting, bicycle riding PokeMaster born smack dab on Route 2 amongst swarms of Rattata and Pidgey.  Her heroic birth and survival is said to have carved her destiny as a legendary Pokemon master (as in, a Pokemon master that is a legend, not a Pokemon master of legendary Pokemon).

Aside from her last name, Whartortle is said to have never come into contact with a Wartortle, or even a Squirtle for that matter (although it was reported that she “rode a Blastoise with a missing right cannon to Slateport, the dock town, as she fought off three Beedrill with a fishing net she had only previously used to capture a Magikarp, which, against the rules of the PokeUniverse, she consumed raw, as one would consume sushi”).  Unfortunately, this unwise method of consuming a raw Magikarp whole resulted in a lengthy semi-symbiotic relationship which resulted in an attempt of the Magikarp to evolve while still inside Whartortle.  Fortunately, a crafty Jigglypuff was nearby to sing Whartortle to sleep and perform immediate surgery before the Magikarp could fully evolve into a Gyarados.

There is also a legend that claims Edith Whartortle was not only the first female Pokemon trainer, but the first human to have ever evolved (take that, Darwin).  The legend states that on “one perfectly sunny day, when the milkman had completed his task of not really doing much other than delivering both milk and babies, and hitting on childrens’ mothers, a young pre-teen named Edith Newbold Jones visited a local Pokemon Center, reporting to one of Nurse Joy’s zillions of similar-looking siblings that her stomach felt as if it were ‘rolling up into a Geodude’, there were ‘sprigs of Snorlax fur sprouting from her undergarment areas’, and that ‘the world just didn’t really feel like it [was] spinning like a Pokeball.’”  The legend continues to describe the nurse awarding Jones with a small ‘certificate of evolution’, and calling her mother to congratulate her and to tell her that her daughter would be home shortly, but authorities later corrected this account claiming Jones had simply undergone puberty and a legal name change.  There is also a related legend that states that nobody believes the authorities.

Whartortle is also acclaimed for compiling the most expansive Pokemon database in a Pokedex.  After Whartortle received yet another certificate of her achievement in the PokeGuinness PokeBook of PokeWorld PokeRecords, she passionately stated in an interview that she was actually the inventor of the first Pokedex (version 0.010.0), and that Professor Oak had not only stolen her idea before she could patent her schematics for the device, but had also “broken into [her] house, bit [her] Raichu, slapped [her] two brothers across both of their faces consecutively with little time in between each slap, dug up [her] garden of radishes, stole [her] mother’s latex gloves, and drank all of [her] bottles of potion which [she] had just recently purchased from a Pokemon Shopping District in Cerulean City.”  Professor Oak was interviewed shortly after this occurred and is noted as refuting these accusations with “nu uh”.  When asked if Whartortle could prove that she actually was the inventor of the first Pokedex, she claimed that “every Pokedex was programmed to use [her] voice”.  She then proceeded to recite the following:  ”Pikachu.  These mouse-like creatures are among the mose sought-after Pokemon.  Trainers often have a hard time keeping several Pikachu in one place, however, because a high concentration of Pikachu will trigger electrical disturbances in the atmosphere.” Shortly after this shocking moment was captured via shoddy camera work by a local Mr. Mime, a storm occurred and Professor Oak was brought in by Officer Jenny.  After being interrogated and flashed by a Jinx, the Professor cracked and confessed his wrong-doing.  Professor Oak was incarcerated for four hours before being released on a bail amounted at twenty-seven Poke.

In conclusion, Whartortle continues to be an inspiration to Pokemon Trainers, even ones outside of the Kanto region *cough* ASH *cough* GARY *cough*.  Although certain envious characters have spread rumors that Whartortle died a humiliating death by the “hands” of a rare species of purple ditto, it is a widely known fact that Whartortle resides in the elusive Seafoam Islands along with the legendary Articuno.

Rants ‘N Such #1

Alright, I’m taking a break from those letters because, well, to be quite frank, I’m not sure if I actually want to write some of the letters.  I know I can just skip them, but I wouldn’t feel “right” by doing so unless I didn’t actually have someone to write to.  And yes, as I knew, this is a reference to my first post.  The next letter was supposed to be to my parents, and I honestly don’t know if I could actually write that letter.  Either it would be too long or too confusing, and/or I wouldn’t want just anybody to read it.  The same applies to the sibling letter and so on and so forth.

Now, as you may know, I work at Outback as a peon-like dishwasher (in the hierarchy of what Outbackers call the “BOH” or back of the house).  And as you also may know, to describe how I feel about my job, I jokingly (or?) stated that it made me want to consume anti-freeze.  Because of this, it must be logical that rants may become a byproduct of this job, and logic, once again, is correct.  Also, I noted in the title that this is in fact a “#1” meaning there will most likely be more rants and/or other random nonsense that spawns as time progresses, and this too is logical.  So, without further ado, I shall make my extreme discomfort and pet peeves become known (or even more so).

Firstly, to all of the waiters and waitresses… please, for the love of everything that smells of lavender and vanilla, learn how to stack dishes.  You have no idea (or maybe you do and you’re cruel) how it feels to come back to a work station littered by a discombobulated gathering of mismatched platters.  It’s common sense, really.  Long plates don’t stack on top of circular plates, tiny bowls don’t hold up large saucers well, your house doesn’t levitate mystically above the atmosphere, etc.  Now, if there is no room to place plates, that’s a different story, but if there’s a vast area of metallic pasture available, please, by no means shall you prod at my logical mind by stacking dishes that simply do not stack.

Also, as a follow up to that, waiters and waitresses, please do not carelessly leave large portions of what was once someone’s meal in or on those dishes.  Again, I highly doubt you have any idea what it feels like to grab a normal plate and find a whole, fully-loaded baked potato staring at you with taunting sharp-cheddar-and-ham eyes.  Right, I understand you can’t possibly clear off every dish to me, but finding big chunks of leftover goodness is very disheartening.

Now, to the customers, if you happen to order cheese fries, take one glob of that melded mess and hold it up in the air for about 5-30 seconds passionately as a tribute to the horribly unfortunate person who has to wash that plate you will soon dine off of.  I know, you may look like a complete William (retard) by doing so, but that scene cowers in inferiority to what the dishwasher looks and feels like as he takes his wire scrubber and chafes that platter violently in futility as numerous dishes and equipment stack up around him like a Vietcong battalion.  On behalf of those unlucky dishwashers, I would request a tip, but it should be a well known fact by now that not even the waiters and waitresses get tipped enough, so, as a more realistic request, when you are done consuming that plastic-like concoction that will most likely result in a regretful case of constipation, take your fork (that the dishwasher also has to clean) and scrape what you believe to be cheese from your plate before it cools (thus creating a seemingly irreversible bond).

I don’t plan on these rants and other musings to be as lengthy as some of my other posts, but I predict that length will be compensated by quantity.  Also, as a side note, if you are a waiter, waitress, customer, busser, etc., and I address you in one of these rants, don’t be at all offended.  This spiel is by no means a personal ordeal.  It is meant more as entertainment, but also as simply a vent.  There is a hint of sincerity in most sarcasm, after all.

Letter Two: Your (My) Crush

Considering neither of us knows the other very well, this is probably going to be a relatively awkward and difficult letter to compose.  Also, I’m not sure if I consider you as much of a crush as I did in the recent past, but you’re pretty much the only slight crush I have at the moment, so I’m going to write to you.

Anyways, I’d like to add that it is relatively rare for me to develop a crush on a person without actually talking to them and getting to know them first.  I’m not sure I believe in love at first sight, but I think I can bring myself to believe that I had a crush on you when I first met you.  Speaking of which, your approach to that might have been a contributor to how I feel now.  Being in an environment where people are too busy to actually be set on introducing themselves to the newbies or actually developing a friendship with such, but having a person attempt to do so anyway, probably separated you from the rest in my mind.  Not only that, but you were obviously physically attractive to begin with, of course.  

So, after deciding that you were either just being nice or were genuinely interested in getting to know me better, I figured it would be a smart idea to look out for more “signs”.  You know, the constant yet random smiling, the joking around that is easily interpreted as flirting, the putting yourself in a situation in which you might “accidentally” touch the other person’s hand, the occasional “glance-n-smile”, that kind of stuff.  Now, I realize I could just be thinking like a completely lost guy right now, but from the experience (little as it may be) I have acquired over the course of my life, these are a few hints.  And after these hints (or what I interpret as such) started becoming so frequent that I could not ignore them, I did what is not like me at all - I asked you out.  Now, take note, before I did this, about four hours before I did this, in fact, I told you that I needed to talk to you.  I understand that the minds of females and males don’t work in the same ways, but I think you could predict what I was about to do when that time came around.  You could have stopped me.  Yes, you very well could have brought up what I probably should not have done, but you let it go on anyway.  As to why you did this, I’m not sure.  It could have been an ego trip for you, it could have been amusing to you, it could have been any number of things, but what it could have been to me would be the complete opposite of those things.  It would be an ego-cutter, it could have been very hurtful, etc.  I don’t like to meditate on your intentions at that point, and I’m not going to start doing so now.

Anyways, what happened, happened, and what was your response?  ”I’d love too *big smile*… but I have a boyfriend”.  Okay, pause.  What should I have thought here?  I probably should have thought that you wanted to hang out to get to know each other and hopefully become better friends.  Why didn’t I assume this immediately?  I don’t know.  Maybe just the thought of you completely threw me off, I don’t know.  After a few minutes of soaking up what had just happened, you came back.  Being me, this was obviously not a position I desired to find myself in.  Okay, play.  You:  ”Hey, William, if I didn’t have a boyfriend, it would be a yes”.  And now I’m thinking to myself, “Great, another conundrum to fog my mind for the rest of the week”.  Yes, again, what was I supposed to think of this?  Maybe you were just being nice.  Maybe you were subtly implying that your relationship with your current boyfriend wasn’t as serious as people might think.  Maybe you did it on purpose to see me writhe and cringe at my own thoughts, who knows?  Second of all, what would be a yes?  Would going out to do something be a yes, or are you saying something deeper than that?  I don’t know, and surprisingly, at this point, I don’t believe I care much anymore.  

And now we come to the present.  Being me, I expected things to be slightly awkward between us after that whole encounter.  Are we?  If you aren’t simply hiding it, then I don’t think we are.  Do you still say hi and interact with me?  Yes.  Do you still flirt (or what I interpret as such) with me?  Yes.  Now, wait.  Considering I’m not completely wrong about everything I’ve said throughout this letter, that is just not right.  This is one of the many things about teenagers that raise red flags in my mind that is already under lockdown with alarms blaring and red “cop-car” lights glaring in circles.  Are you just being nice?  Always a possibility, and from what I know of you, this is probably the most logical explanation.  Do I want to believe this?  It depends.  At the risk of dropping everything I’ve already gathered at this point, I could believe what you are doing is purely out of kindness, and at the risk of being shamefully wrong, I could believe that it is a mixture of that kindness I know and flirting.

What am I willing to believe at this point?  Now that I think about it - nothing.  Why?  Well, what good will it do me to believe anything either way?  Maybe it’s a defense mechanism for me.  Maybe I know that if I don’t believe something, I can’t be wrong, I can’t be hurt.  Maybe I’ve simply been pushed further than I wanted to be, so I simply dropped everything that was related to what pushed me.  Again, I don’t really care.  Do I look forward to a prolonged friendship?  Yes, I would very much like a friendship.  Do I hold hostile feelings towards you?  No, I don’t believe I do.  If I did, what reason would I have to be doing so?  I realize I could be absolutely completely wrong about everything I’ve just discussed in this letter, so with that in mind, how could I rightfully hold those feelings?  Besides, even if I was right, I still don’t think I’d be able to do it.  There has only been one person in the past that I’ve been able to go through that with, and you are very different than that person.  Very different.  

What do I see in the future between us?  Pretty much just friends.  I could be wrong, of course, but that’s what I see.  Just friends.  Even if by some chance you broke up with your boyfriend and pursued a relationship with me, I honestly can’t say I’d accept it.  It may or may not be that advice one of my wise friends offered me, to “not be the rebound”, but even with that out of mind, I don’t know if I would.  Regardless, whatever happens, happens, and when it does, I may not be alright with it at first, but I know I’ll slowly realize that that is just how things are.

I also realize how uncommon “crushes” are for me.  It is relatively rare for me to develop crushes on people, which makes it even harder for me when crushes like the one I had on you diminish and fade away.  It sucks, and I have no idea when will be the next time I have a crush on someone.  In a way, I guess I could hold on to the one I have on you until I develop another, but I find that excessively sick and extremely sad.  I’ve never done it in the past, nor do I plan on doing it now.  I just know that there was once a time in which it did exist, and I won’t forget that time by any means.  But the past is the past, and I intend to keep the memories that belong there exactly where they belong.