I'd like to step foot,
In the land of dictatorships,
Despots,
And dead-men;
To voice my Western opinion,
Through the veil of the immune.
I'd like to step foot,
In the land of the lions,
The gazelle,
And bright birds,
To experience all,
That cannot be said through mere words.
I'd like to step foot,
In the land of old Queens;
The land of abdication,
From which the French coast, it gleams.
I'd like to step foot,
In the permafrost of the north,
And experience why,
Others don't venture forth.
I'd like to step foot,
In the tropics of the south,
Where the rain pounds just like,
A forgotten old sink,
In which the sound is so loud,
You can't hear yourself think.
I'd like to step foot,
On the island of the abnormal,
Off the coast of the near-east,
Where it seems strange to act formal.
I'd like to wade through,
The ocean of men,
In a Tokyo square,
In which you lose count at ten.
I'd like to float forth,
From the bounds of this Earth,
And with my own eyes,
See all life as it's worth,
From our desolate moon,
Watch our world as it rise,
And from eons away,
Watch a star as it sighs.
I'd like to see life,
Through my eyes,
As a prize.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The Cast-Iron Man
Young, was this boy,
When his father told him,
"Don't trust another, son;
All people lie, yes, it's grim,
But no one deserves more,
Than you do, you see?
Always put yourself first and foremost,
And stronger, you'll be."
He believed every word,
Stored each in his head;
To him, these were words,
To be believed and not said.
His father taught him,
How to be a true man.
He needed big muscles,
Strong words, and a tan.
He taught him his 'truth,'
For him to hold in his heart,
"What does not kill you, my son,
Makes you stronger, so start,
To take every tough time,
In stride, don't let up;
It is not right to shed tears;
As a man conceals all thoughts,
Of emotion and caring,
Beyond loving yourself;
You can pretend to love one girl,
But keep the truth on the shelf;
Make her work to earn you,
A man like you is a rare find.
Good looking, and tough;
Never tie loves loose bind."
As he grew up,
He'd start fights,
With men,
He claimed did him wrong.
"I have honor!" He'd scream,
This was his self-song;
An anthem, of sorts,
Which carried away,
All the thoughts that he was wasting,
Life, day after day;
Hiding all of his doubts,
Under a mask of pure mad;
Concealing insecurities,
With the punch he did have.
He dropped-out of school,
After his father fell ill;
The next day he died,
From one to many a pill,
Of what he called 'manly;'
Drugs on the run.
He wanted it over,
So he could live and die young.
His son was left lonely,
No family, no friends;
No real ones, at least.
They were just with him,
To enjoy a life short and simple,
One in which they die young,
So they need not endure,
Aching backs, and bad lungs.
It wasn't long before he was alone on the street;
His friends had deserted,
Either died, or hit limits in peaks,
Of drug overdoses,
It had come a surprise.
The cast-iron man,
Stopped when tears reached his eyes.
For two years, he spent,
Alone on the street;
Becoming weaker and weaker,
And his ignored need to eat,
In favor of drugs,
Such as crack,
Crystal meth;
He was becoming beyond words,
An image of death.
One day, he lay alone,
And he cried.
He hated himself for this lie,
He did hide,
Under what was left of his muscle,
His strength, and his words;
Hallucinations plagued him,
Of men with large swords;
Battling each-other,
To retain their true man,
Showing their muscles,
And boasting their tans,
As if mocking the poor,
Lonely, cast-iron man,
Many years ago,
His spirit had ran.
No, more accurately,
His spirit had died;
It had been stabbed far to much,
By those who had lied.
That night he had reached,
The end of the fast lane;
His body died, drenched,
In the cold winter rain,
As he followed his spirit,
To an opposite plain.
Nothing's wrong with this Earth,
It is man who's insane.
When his father told him,
"Don't trust another, son;
All people lie, yes, it's grim,
But no one deserves more,
Than you do, you see?
Always put yourself first and foremost,
And stronger, you'll be."
He believed every word,
Stored each in his head;
To him, these were words,
To be believed and not said.
His father taught him,
How to be a true man.
He needed big muscles,
Strong words, and a tan.
He taught him his 'truth,'
For him to hold in his heart,
"What does not kill you, my son,
Makes you stronger, so start,
To take every tough time,
In stride, don't let up;
It is not right to shed tears;
As a man conceals all thoughts,
Of emotion and caring,
Beyond loving yourself;
You can pretend to love one girl,
But keep the truth on the shelf;
Make her work to earn you,
A man like you is a rare find.
Good looking, and tough;
Never tie loves loose bind."
As he grew up,
He'd start fights,
With men,
He claimed did him wrong.
"I have honor!" He'd scream,
This was his self-song;
An anthem, of sorts,
Which carried away,
All the thoughts that he was wasting,
Life, day after day;
Hiding all of his doubts,
Under a mask of pure mad;
Concealing insecurities,
With the punch he did have.
He dropped-out of school,
After his father fell ill;
The next day he died,
From one to many a pill,
Of what he called 'manly;'
Drugs on the run.
He wanted it over,
So he could live and die young.
His son was left lonely,
No family, no friends;
No real ones, at least.
They were just with him,
To enjoy a life short and simple,
One in which they die young,
So they need not endure,
Aching backs, and bad lungs.
It wasn't long before he was alone on the street;
His friends had deserted,
Either died, or hit limits in peaks,
Of drug overdoses,
It had come a surprise.
The cast-iron man,
Stopped when tears reached his eyes.
For two years, he spent,
Alone on the street;
Becoming weaker and weaker,
And his ignored need to eat,
In favor of drugs,
Such as crack,
Crystal meth;
He was becoming beyond words,
An image of death.
One day, he lay alone,
And he cried.
He hated himself for this lie,
He did hide,
Under what was left of his muscle,
His strength, and his words;
Hallucinations plagued him,
Of men with large swords;
Battling each-other,
To retain their true man,
Showing their muscles,
And boasting their tans,
As if mocking the poor,
Lonely, cast-iron man,
Many years ago,
His spirit had ran.
No, more accurately,
His spirit had died;
It had been stabbed far to much,
By those who had lied.
That night he had reached,
The end of the fast lane;
His body died, drenched,
In the cold winter rain,
As he followed his spirit,
To an opposite plain.
Nothing's wrong with this Earth,
It is man who's insane.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Duality: A Short Story
The jungle was relentless. It seemed as if as soon as it had you, you were trapped; fated to do battle not only with the forces of the Imperial Japanese Army, but with the unrelenting, merciless forces of mother nature.
It rained more than Colonel Jasper Ridgewood had ever thought possible, soaking him and his fellow Marines not only through the light fabric of their cheap military uniforms, but seemingly to the bone, simultaneously counteracting the nearly unbearable humid heat which was able to permeate ones sense of reality and replace it with a dizzy haze of constant movement and gunfire.
It was October 1942 on the remote island of Guadalcanal, and it seemed as if mother nature was on the side of the Japanese, as she seemed to override the backwardness of the seasons in the southern hemisphere, to which Colonol Ridgewood had been told it was now apparently summer, but his rightfully pessimistic mind continued to murmur to itself at the irony of such a statement. It hadn't rained virtually at all during the onset of the campaign two months prior, when he had been told that the slightly drier heat was what the people of this part of the world called 'winter.'
"Need a smoke, Colonel?" Private First Class Edward Kulshayski asked, holding out a nearly-empty box of Camel cigarettes in offering.
"As if that'd stay lit in this weather, Private." Ridgewood replied.
Ridgewood and Kulshayski had known each other since their freshman year at high school in Des Moines, Iowa, and had grown so close as to become undeclared best friends in the years to follow, playing together in the school band up until the onset of the war in Europe during their graduating year.
By 1940, and with both of them lacking any sort of employment yet itching for adventure, they had contemplated travelling to Canada together as to enlist in the fight against Hitler, yet even money for the trip was more than slightly tight for the time being.
On December 7th of the following year, their lucky break finally came with he onset of war against the expansive Japanese Empire to the east, immediately enlisting at their local American Armed Forces bureau. After four months of vigorous training at Fort Lauderdale, both Ridgewood and Kulshayski fought alongside one another at Midway, both earning promotions, with Ridgewood earning the greater of the two due to his saving the lives of several of his fellow Marines by commandeering a Japanese radio and contacting the Air force just in time to destroy a Japanese battleship before it could fire its cannons at the men trapped on the beach.
"You know what? We really shouldn't be addressing each other by our ranks; I mean, I'm older than you by 2 months, and somehow you hold some symbolic authority over me because the U.S. Military says so." Edward called, speaking over the sound of the pounding rain.
"2 months really doesn't mean much to either myself or the Marine Corp, therefore you don't have much ground to argue your point."
"Well.. I finished with over 96 percent in 12th Grade calculus, compared to your 67 percent."
Laughing, Ridgewood lightly pounded Edward on the arm.
"Shut up, you fucking dolt. I beat you in History class by at least 32 percent. Math just isn't my thing."
"Yeah, well I think it was because Mrs. Henderson had a crush on you." Kulshayski chuckled, a playful grin reaching from ear to ear as he continued to watch his step, wading carefully through the thick underbrush, and squinting slightly as water dripped off his helmet and onto his nose.
"Aw bullshit! She had more of a crush on-"
"Shh!" A Marine to the right of them called, slowing quickly and lifting his M1 Garand into a readied position close to his chest.
With his grin quickly fading to a look of wide-eyed concentration, Ridgewood watched as Kulshayski slung his Thompson from off his back and into a similar readied position as the other Marines which were slowing their paces in almost synchronized unison.
In the distance, Jasper could hear the muffled sound of voices speaking a language entirely alien to him, and undoubtedly that of the enemy.
"Down, down!" Sargent Huxley whispered from the front of the column, signalling with his left hand. Ridgewood, almost squatting, held his breath for a moment and listened intently.
There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity. Even the whispering seemed as if it had ceased, and then- "Banzai!"
Suddenly, what would have been practically pitch darkness aside from the light provided by the moon was lit up in successive flashes as numerous machine guns began to flare back and forth.
The sound of bullets impacting the trees, or tearing through the bushes around him caused Jasper to instinctively fall forward and sprawl himself out on the jungles floor. Looking to his left amid the quickly unwinding chaos, he made eye contact with Edward, who had also gone as low as he could to find shelter from the bullets.
Maintaining eye contact, Kulshayski pointed forward towards what looked like a fallen log they could use as a firing position. Placing his M1 Garand on his back and making sure the broken sling was knotted properly on the other side, Jasper followed Edward in edging his way towards the log, and upon reaching it was quick to undue the knot and place himself in a sitting position as to see over their cover.
About three feet ahead of them, three Marines were sprawled out in the open, firing in long bursts from a makeshift machine gun position. Looking up, Jasper watched as an ocean of Japanese soldiers charged from the thick underbrush, only to be mowed down in a hail of bullets and blood.
Lifting his M1, Jasper began picking targets at random, hitting all but one, and occasionally mistaking Edward's kills for his own due to the epileptic confusion.
Finally, the determined battle cries of the Japanese stopped, and Huxley ordered everyone to cease fire. Yet more silence ensued.
Ten minutes passed, and Jasper looked towards Kulshayski, still rooted in his awkward battle stance.
"I- I think it's over." Edward said quietly. Slowly, he peaked his head further up and over the log.
"Banzai!"
"Shit!" He yelled.
"Edward, get down! Get the fuck down!" Jasper shouted amid the renewed sounds of gunfire.
But he didn't; he seemed oddly fixated on something, and then- thwup.
A spatter of warm wetness jumped across Jasper's face. When he opened his eyes, the motionless look of the curiously fixated face of Edward Kulshayski greeted him, with a small, deep, dripping hole on his forehead.
In shock, Jasper began to cry, closing his eyes and grabbing his own face as if he were going insane.
Edward Kulshayski was unmistakeably dead.
22 Years Later.
It had been exceptionally cold in Des Moines during the winter of 1964.
Jasper Ridgewood now had the solemn opportunity to move from the city to the family farm, which was now left completely vacant with his fathers recent death at the age of 81.
As distressed as he was with the death of the man that had raised him since his mothers death in 1936 due to cancer, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm caught up in the winter-wonderland backdrop of the city at this time of year.
Pulling up to the funeral home for his fathers processions, he was slightly surprised to see how large the line-up outside was, filled with people from his past. He even noted the presence of a few old high school buddy's he hadn't seen since before the war, and was quick to solemnly greet them and thank them for there presence. He wasn't in much of a mood to ask as to what they had been up to since the last time he had seen them.
Moving politely through the crowd to the front of the line, and then into the funeral home itself, Jasper found the coroner agitatedly conversing with a white-haired man while flipping through the guestbook.
"Is there something wrong, Mr. Crestly?" Jasper intervened, "Yes, sir, there is. This man here claims to have known you and your father prior to your death during the war."
"My death? During the war?"
Jasper stopped, dead in his tracks, as he made eye-contact with the baffled-looking white-haired man.
"Kulshayski!" He yelled in shock.
"Ridgewood!" The white-haired man yelled back.
"But- but you're dead! I saw you get shot in the head on Guadalcanal! I even escorted your body back to the States!" Jasper said, his eyes widened in confused shock.
"What? No! No no no, I saw you get shot on Guadalcanal! I escorted your body back home!" Edward replied.
There was a moment of quiet between the two men as Jasper sunk to his knees and fell to Edward's feet and began to cry, hugging his old friend's legs in disbelief.
"What the hell is this? What the HELL is this?!?" Jasper wheezed as tears continued to run down his cheeks.
It rained more than Colonel Jasper Ridgewood had ever thought possible, soaking him and his fellow Marines not only through the light fabric of their cheap military uniforms, but seemingly to the bone, simultaneously counteracting the nearly unbearable humid heat which was able to permeate ones sense of reality and replace it with a dizzy haze of constant movement and gunfire.
It was October 1942 on the remote island of Guadalcanal, and it seemed as if mother nature was on the side of the Japanese, as she seemed to override the backwardness of the seasons in the southern hemisphere, to which Colonol Ridgewood had been told it was now apparently summer, but his rightfully pessimistic mind continued to murmur to itself at the irony of such a statement. It hadn't rained virtually at all during the onset of the campaign two months prior, when he had been told that the slightly drier heat was what the people of this part of the world called 'winter.'
"Need a smoke, Colonel?" Private First Class Edward Kulshayski asked, holding out a nearly-empty box of Camel cigarettes in offering.
"As if that'd stay lit in this weather, Private." Ridgewood replied.
Ridgewood and Kulshayski had known each other since their freshman year at high school in Des Moines, Iowa, and had grown so close as to become undeclared best friends in the years to follow, playing together in the school band up until the onset of the war in Europe during their graduating year.
By 1940, and with both of them lacking any sort of employment yet itching for adventure, they had contemplated travelling to Canada together as to enlist in the fight against Hitler, yet even money for the trip was more than slightly tight for the time being.
On December 7th of the following year, their lucky break finally came with he onset of war against the expansive Japanese Empire to the east, immediately enlisting at their local American Armed Forces bureau. After four months of vigorous training at Fort Lauderdale, both Ridgewood and Kulshayski fought alongside one another at Midway, both earning promotions, with Ridgewood earning the greater of the two due to his saving the lives of several of his fellow Marines by commandeering a Japanese radio and contacting the Air force just in time to destroy a Japanese battleship before it could fire its cannons at the men trapped on the beach.
"You know what? We really shouldn't be addressing each other by our ranks; I mean, I'm older than you by 2 months, and somehow you hold some symbolic authority over me because the U.S. Military says so." Edward called, speaking over the sound of the pounding rain.
"2 months really doesn't mean much to either myself or the Marine Corp, therefore you don't have much ground to argue your point."
"Well.. I finished with over 96 percent in 12th Grade calculus, compared to your 67 percent."
Laughing, Ridgewood lightly pounded Edward on the arm.
"Shut up, you fucking dolt. I beat you in History class by at least 32 percent. Math just isn't my thing."
"Yeah, well I think it was because Mrs. Henderson had a crush on you." Kulshayski chuckled, a playful grin reaching from ear to ear as he continued to watch his step, wading carefully through the thick underbrush, and squinting slightly as water dripped off his helmet and onto his nose.
"Aw bullshit! She had more of a crush on-"
"Shh!" A Marine to the right of them called, slowing quickly and lifting his M1 Garand into a readied position close to his chest.
With his grin quickly fading to a look of wide-eyed concentration, Ridgewood watched as Kulshayski slung his Thompson from off his back and into a similar readied position as the other Marines which were slowing their paces in almost synchronized unison.
In the distance, Jasper could hear the muffled sound of voices speaking a language entirely alien to him, and undoubtedly that of the enemy.
"Down, down!" Sargent Huxley whispered from the front of the column, signalling with his left hand. Ridgewood, almost squatting, held his breath for a moment and listened intently.
There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity. Even the whispering seemed as if it had ceased, and then- "Banzai!"
Suddenly, what would have been practically pitch darkness aside from the light provided by the moon was lit up in successive flashes as numerous machine guns began to flare back and forth.
The sound of bullets impacting the trees, or tearing through the bushes around him caused Jasper to instinctively fall forward and sprawl himself out on the jungles floor. Looking to his left amid the quickly unwinding chaos, he made eye contact with Edward, who had also gone as low as he could to find shelter from the bullets.
Maintaining eye contact, Kulshayski pointed forward towards what looked like a fallen log they could use as a firing position. Placing his M1 Garand on his back and making sure the broken sling was knotted properly on the other side, Jasper followed Edward in edging his way towards the log, and upon reaching it was quick to undue the knot and place himself in a sitting position as to see over their cover.
About three feet ahead of them, three Marines were sprawled out in the open, firing in long bursts from a makeshift machine gun position. Looking up, Jasper watched as an ocean of Japanese soldiers charged from the thick underbrush, only to be mowed down in a hail of bullets and blood.
Lifting his M1, Jasper began picking targets at random, hitting all but one, and occasionally mistaking Edward's kills for his own due to the epileptic confusion.
Finally, the determined battle cries of the Japanese stopped, and Huxley ordered everyone to cease fire. Yet more silence ensued.
Ten minutes passed, and Jasper looked towards Kulshayski, still rooted in his awkward battle stance.
"I- I think it's over." Edward said quietly. Slowly, he peaked his head further up and over the log.
"Banzai!"
"Shit!" He yelled.
"Edward, get down! Get the fuck down!" Jasper shouted amid the renewed sounds of gunfire.
But he didn't; he seemed oddly fixated on something, and then- thwup.
A spatter of warm wetness jumped across Jasper's face. When he opened his eyes, the motionless look of the curiously fixated face of Edward Kulshayski greeted him, with a small, deep, dripping hole on his forehead.
In shock, Jasper began to cry, closing his eyes and grabbing his own face as if he were going insane.
Edward Kulshayski was unmistakeably dead.
22 Years Later.
It had been exceptionally cold in Des Moines during the winter of 1964.
Jasper Ridgewood now had the solemn opportunity to move from the city to the family farm, which was now left completely vacant with his fathers recent death at the age of 81.
As distressed as he was with the death of the man that had raised him since his mothers death in 1936 due to cancer, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm caught up in the winter-wonderland backdrop of the city at this time of year.
Pulling up to the funeral home for his fathers processions, he was slightly surprised to see how large the line-up outside was, filled with people from his past. He even noted the presence of a few old high school buddy's he hadn't seen since before the war, and was quick to solemnly greet them and thank them for there presence. He wasn't in much of a mood to ask as to what they had been up to since the last time he had seen them.
Moving politely through the crowd to the front of the line, and then into the funeral home itself, Jasper found the coroner agitatedly conversing with a white-haired man while flipping through the guestbook.
"Is there something wrong, Mr. Crestly?" Jasper intervened, "Yes, sir, there is. This man here claims to have known you and your father prior to your death during the war."
"My death? During the war?"
Jasper stopped, dead in his tracks, as he made eye-contact with the baffled-looking white-haired man.
"Kulshayski!" He yelled in shock.
"Ridgewood!" The white-haired man yelled back.
"But- but you're dead! I saw you get shot in the head on Guadalcanal! I even escorted your body back to the States!" Jasper said, his eyes widened in confused shock.
"What? No! No no no, I saw you get shot on Guadalcanal! I escorted your body back home!" Edward replied.
There was a moment of quiet between the two men as Jasper sunk to his knees and fell to Edward's feet and began to cry, hugging his old friend's legs in disbelief.
"What the hell is this? What the HELL is this?!?" Jasper wheezed as tears continued to run down his cheeks.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Update and Announcement
Hello there, world! I am, once again, regretful (ok, no so much regretful as sorry) about my absence from the blogging scene. This time around, my 'summer life' has very little to do with it. I've been spending the last few days either with family or simply alone, doing alot of reading, as well as conquering Asia in my forever-and-always favorite grand strategy video game, Hearts of Iron 2. Last night was actually the first time I've spent with friends since last Thursday, I believe. It's actually pretty nice to have extended time to yourself from time to time, although it seems my friends have less of an appreciation for me when I return to the social world after a few days, although that may simply be an arbitrary emotional bias brought on by slight insecurity.
Anyways, I'd like to announce that not a single full-fledged article is on its way, but instead a series of articles based on my personally-formed philosophies. The following subjects will be studied and discussed:
The Reality and Illusions of Reality,
Old-world Morals,
The Reality and Illusions of Dreams, Visions, and Memories,
Individual Outlooks on the World and the Universe,
The Existence/ Extent of Free-Will,
The Deceptions of Society,
The Role of Emotions,
The Requirement/ Use of Structure,
Life prior to Life,
Life after Death,
Personal Relationships,
Impersonal Relationships,
The Existence of Alternate States of Reality,
The Existence of Alternate States of Existence,
Natural Precognition,
The Existence of a Spirit or Soul,
And last, but not least: Existence Beyond the Human Mind.
Anyways, I'd like to announce that not a single full-fledged article is on its way, but instead a series of articles based on my personally-formed philosophies. The following subjects will be studied and discussed:
The Reality and Illusions of Reality,
Old-world Morals,
The Reality and Illusions of Dreams, Visions, and Memories,
Individual Outlooks on the World and the Universe,
The Existence/ Extent of Free-Will,
The Deceptions of Society,
The Role of Emotions,
The Requirement/ Use of Structure,
Life prior to Life,
Life after Death,
Personal Relationships,
Impersonal Relationships,
The Existence of Alternate States of Reality,
The Existence of Alternate States of Existence,
Natural Precognition,
The Existence of a Spirit or Soul,
And last, but not least: Existence Beyond the Human Mind.
Friday, July 30, 2010
I was safe from the bears, but not from my friends.
Need I apologize for my internet absence yet again? Aw what the hell, I'll do it anyways. I'm sorry I have been absent from the blogging scene for the past week or so, but as I've stated before, I've been busy with summer, which has been quite a blast, both prior to, and since the publication of my last article, The Existentialists Eternal Intrigue.
For the past 4, probably closer to 5 days, I've been camping out at a lake in the deep woods south of town; an incredibly hard place to find if you've never heard of it before, to be honest.
I was camping out there with about 7 or 8 friends of mine, repeating the same basic routine everyday: wake-up, have breakfast, chill out and chat, go swimming/ canoeing, return to the campsite, chill out some more, and then make dinner, followed by even more chilling out. To say the least, as repetitive as it got by the fourth day, it was still quite alot of fun.
What kind of dragged the fun-factor down a considerable amount is the fact that I was the one and only target for constant annoyance, practical jokes, insults, and eventually, physical assault due to unjustified overreaction after I playfully attempted to play along with the jokes and insults despite the fact that it was getting to me inside. For my only playfully resistant action, I got a hard kick in the groin and more name-calling, followed by me deliberately disappearing for about 5 hours due to being so upset. Needless to say, the 3 or 4 friends that were always targeting me felt extremely bad, and refrained from doing so for the most part for the remainder of the trip. I can't say I'm not angry at them still, though, and I've vowed to really give them a piece of my mind if anything similar happens again. I'd even be willing to drop them as friends in the event that they continue to target me regardless.
Aside from that dimension of the trip, with absolutely zero sarcasm I can say that it was actually a blast. I'd be willing to do it again this summer, but like I said, I wouldn't be aimlessly taking abuse any more. Chances are, that if certain friends of mine read this post, they'd just brush it off and say I was being a 'pussy.' Frankly, if that's the stance they take towards my emotions, I'd like to drop them entirely and find real friends, who really like me for who I am. So far, some of my current friends have been less than impressive in the acceptance department.
Anyways, I apologize for the rant, I just needed to get abit of my chest, and put my thoughts into words as so I could register everything that happened just a bit easier. Peace out, blue planet, and enjoy the remainder of the summer!
For the past 4, probably closer to 5 days, I've been camping out at a lake in the deep woods south of town; an incredibly hard place to find if you've never heard of it before, to be honest.
I was camping out there with about 7 or 8 friends of mine, repeating the same basic routine everyday: wake-up, have breakfast, chill out and chat, go swimming/ canoeing, return to the campsite, chill out some more, and then make dinner, followed by even more chilling out. To say the least, as repetitive as it got by the fourth day, it was still quite alot of fun.
What kind of dragged the fun-factor down a considerable amount is the fact that I was the one and only target for constant annoyance, practical jokes, insults, and eventually, physical assault due to unjustified overreaction after I playfully attempted to play along with the jokes and insults despite the fact that it was getting to me inside. For my only playfully resistant action, I got a hard kick in the groin and more name-calling, followed by me deliberately disappearing for about 5 hours due to being so upset. Needless to say, the 3 or 4 friends that were always targeting me felt extremely bad, and refrained from doing so for the most part for the remainder of the trip. I can't say I'm not angry at them still, though, and I've vowed to really give them a piece of my mind if anything similar happens again. I'd even be willing to drop them as friends in the event that they continue to target me regardless.
Aside from that dimension of the trip, with absolutely zero sarcasm I can say that it was actually a blast. I'd be willing to do it again this summer, but like I said, I wouldn't be aimlessly taking abuse any more. Chances are, that if certain friends of mine read this post, they'd just brush it off and say I was being a 'pussy.' Frankly, if that's the stance they take towards my emotions, I'd like to drop them entirely and find real friends, who really like me for who I am. So far, some of my current friends have been less than impressive in the acceptance department.
Anyways, I apologize for the rant, I just needed to get abit of my chest, and put my thoughts into words as so I could register everything that happened just a bit easier. Peace out, blue planet, and enjoy the remainder of the summer!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
The Existentialists Eternal Intrigue
I'm one of those very open, yet introverted existentialist philosophers (if I were trying to label it as so it would be a little easier to understand on your part) who, due to such classification, finds myself unable to get bored, as there is always something extraordinary to interpret and contemplate. Despite my inability to be bored, I can still get upset, frustrated, and angry like any other human being, and I can also be quite insecure from time to time, as mainstream societies views will occasionally overlap my own at a time of shaky teenage insecurity, when I truly acknowledge the fact that I'm temporarily looking at my honest philosophies and wondering how wrong they could possibly be, due to mainstream societies majority following and my wondering how such a system can have such a majority in the first place considering how corrupt it seems, at least from my individual perspective.
I acknowledge the world is a strange, very mixed place. Individually speaking, it has absolutely no inequalities; only perceptions of superiority and inferiority created by either an individual, or by a larger collective, which as I see it, is our corrupted and one-sided mainstream society which pushes on us feelings of insecurity and inferiority based on many different dimensions, such as physical appearance, choice of clothing, ways of speech and mannerisms, race, religion, ethnicity, financial situation, and choice of peers to name only a few.
The thought that next dawns on me is the fact that at any given time, each individual person on this planet is only seeing an incredibly minuscule fraction of what is occurring on Earth, even within their direct environments; for example, if my brother were home right now, he would be in this exact same house, yet chances are he would be upstairs in his own room with the door closed. To say the least, this is probably the most direct example I can think of, considering I would be entirely unaware of what he's doing, and even if I was able to gather some clues as to what he was up to, such as being clued in based on the sounds of guns firing and bombs going off, which would lead me to conclude he's playing video games, I would be unable to know exactly what he was doing within the video game, or what facial expression he would be wearing as he carried out his virtual objectives, and even less would I be able to contemplate exactly what would be going through his head at that very moment as he expertly weaved his way through throngs of virtual foes.
Now, this thought, when applied in a comparatively bigger sense to that quaint suburban street, takes on a whole new sense of intrigue, as you attempt to fathom the possibilities of what the residents of these quiet homes are up to behind the private concealment of their closed curtains and shut doors.
As way leads on to way, a new thought dawns on me as this strange philosophical thread weaves throughout every possible comprehension created by the electromagnetic waves which are constantly dancing throughout the pulsing enclaves of my mind; this one concerns individual perspective, and as such, seems to flow well with the perception that preceded it. Looking around at each individual car that passes, each individual person who indifferently and silently moves past us, each parked car, each numbered mailbox, and each newspaper thrown next to someones doorstep, it occurs to me that each of these things, as little as they mean to me, mean something important to someone else.
For example: each car that passes us has got at least one person inside (hopefully, a driver), and that individual has a life, and has had a life for as long as they have lived. Through sheer chance created out of collective choice, we just so happened to be walking down this quiet suburban street at the exact same time he/she just so happened to be going down the same street as to reach whatever it is they had established as their point B. A similar example applies to each person who quietly passes by us without so much as a hello, covered in a shroud of urban anonymity. They just so happened to be in the exact same place at the exact same time due to the preceding choices they had made, bundled with the preceding choices we had made.
As for the parked cars, the thought that intrigues me so much is the fact that these cars are simply passerby's scenery to me, but to someone else, it's their form of transportation; it's the vehicle they use to go to work in the morning, possibly drop of their kids at school or daycare, as well as go on road-trips to different points of physical existence throughout the continent and/or globe. A similar thought applies to the mailboxes, as they, too, act as nothing more than passerby's scenery to me, but act as something of more significance to someone else, such as a way to receive letters from distant friends or relatives, or a way to gain discounts at their local supermarkets.
I remember waking up on the morning I was to leave to go on my trip, with that feeling of pre-travel butterfly's fluttering in my stomach, and my mind constantly repeating the words 'You're finally getting out of town, and into the big city!'
To say the least, that feeling is one of my favorite feelings throughout the entire emotional spectrum. To me, it's one of the greatest natural highs provided by life itself, and not by artificial means created via psychedelic drugs.
After about 5 hours of driving and 2 enjoyable ferry rides, we finally arrived in Downtown Vancouver, and I remember thinking to myself: "This morning, I woke up in my bed in Powell River. That bed is now 5 hours north of here, 2 days north if I decided to return on foot." Basically, I was physically existing in one part of the world 5 hours prior, and now I was physically existing in another part. Although they're generally not that far from each other, it was still quite the intriguing thought, especially considering the amount of places there are elsewhere on this planet to which I could potentially exist at.
That night, when I was sitting on the computer at my grandmothers house in the dark, after everyone else had gone to bed, my mind began to wander as I went into a state of being only half-awake, allowing my mind to wander aimlessly in image and thought. One thought, which had been present in my mind many times prior, came back to the forefront of my dreamy mentality, as I considered the fact that everyone who is alive right now is physically existing at this very moment, and they were physically doing something, whether it was running, sleeping, walking, sitting at a computer desk, sniffing a marshmallow, committing a crime, kissing someone, kicking someone, or were in orbit just outside of our planets atmosphere, watching the continents move by, and contemplating exactly what they were looking at. As mind-boggling and intriguing as it was and still is, it was easier to put it into a personal perspective when I considered the fact that everyone I had ever met was physically co-existing with me right now, regardless of how far away they were, geographically speaking. I always like to imagine that, perhaps, the ones I care for the most are thinking about me at the exact same moment I'm thinking about them, and that perhaps there's some distant psychological connection between us if either one of us concentrates on that thought. Whether such a thing ever actually occurs, I'm not sure if I'll ever know, but it was certainly an interesting, as well as comforting, thought.
Through such complicated and open-ended thought processes, I am entirely incapable of getting bored; also, through such thoughts, I've realized that life doesn't have to make sense.
Life has never made sense, but interpretation is the key to absolutely everything.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
A Quick Update
Well, as I seem to dogmatically do every time I get a chance to post on my blog, I apologize for my long internet absence. I've been busy with, well, summer, which means lots of friends and family, and as of yesterday, some travelling. At the moment I'm down in the city of Delta at my grandmothers place, which is a bus ride away from the sprawling British Columbian metropolis of Vancouver.
In general, I've been quite well since the beginning of summer break, save for a few minor incidents which haven't involved me, aside from my having to give out advice. Well, they haven't involved me until today, due to the fact that I believe a very good friend of mine, incidentally also my ex, gave me the strong impression that she's angry at me for some reason, but I'm actually not sure about that due to no chance of follow-up so far, so I may be far-off in what I'm interpreting it as. Either way, I'm sure we'll work it out when given the inevitable chance.
Tomorrow, I'm making my way to the big city via public transit, and for that I need to get up generally quite early, but I'm sure it'll be very worth it, as I'm going to visit a couple good friends of mine, and I'm staying with one until Monday at the least, possibly later if I can get a ride back to Powell River with someone else, or if I can raise enough money for a bus which heads up there daily. My ex/good friend, which I spoke of earlier on, is also coming down to visit friends and family in the same city I'm making my way to tomorrow (which is Port Coquitlam, but I may try to get my friends to bus back into the Vancouver city core for the fun of it on Saturday), and I may see if I can go back with her, but for 1, I'm not sure if she's angry at me or not at the moment, and 2, she stated earlier that their may not be enough seats in the car for the ride back, but that she'll look into it. Basically, I'm going to try to do everything within my power to stay for another couple days, just for the hell of it. Also, it'll give me some practice for when I move to the city next year for university and/or college.
Anyways, I just thought I'd give everyone a quick update on how I've been, and what I've been up to. To all you Canadians out there, Happy Canada Day! I'm proud to be Canadian, just not proud enough to pass arbitrary chain mail to others in order to prove it.
Peace out, blue planet.
In general, I've been quite well since the beginning of summer break, save for a few minor incidents which haven't involved me, aside from my having to give out advice. Well, they haven't involved me until today, due to the fact that I believe a very good friend of mine, incidentally also my ex, gave me the strong impression that she's angry at me for some reason, but I'm actually not sure about that due to no chance of follow-up so far, so I may be far-off in what I'm interpreting it as. Either way, I'm sure we'll work it out when given the inevitable chance.
Tomorrow, I'm making my way to the big city via public transit, and for that I need to get up generally quite early, but I'm sure it'll be very worth it, as I'm going to visit a couple good friends of mine, and I'm staying with one until Monday at the least, possibly later if I can get a ride back to Powell River with someone else, or if I can raise enough money for a bus which heads up there daily. My ex/good friend, which I spoke of earlier on, is also coming down to visit friends and family in the same city I'm making my way to tomorrow (which is Port Coquitlam, but I may try to get my friends to bus back into the Vancouver city core for the fun of it on Saturday), and I may see if I can go back with her, but for 1, I'm not sure if she's angry at me or not at the moment, and 2, she stated earlier that their may not be enough seats in the car for the ride back, but that she'll look into it. Basically, I'm going to try to do everything within my power to stay for another couple days, just for the hell of it. Also, it'll give me some practice for when I move to the city next year for university and/or college.
Anyways, I just thought I'd give everyone a quick update on how I've been, and what I've been up to. To all you Canadians out there, Happy Canada Day! I'm proud to be Canadian, just not proud enough to pass arbitrary chain mail to others in order to prove it.
Peace out, blue planet.
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