irreglar angularity

updates:

Holly's coming monday, which is immensley exciting...
...and at the same time, unnerving.

Julie hate Holly, for reasons that most likely mean nothing now. But still, she will be jealous and she will expect me to spend equal time with everyone; a difficult task as Holly lives in another state...

oh drama.
why can't anyone let anything go?
am i the only sane one here?
you stay justified, stay adamant, and stay bitchy--and what do you get in the end? what do you expect me to say?
i'll say what you want to hear.

academic decathelon banquet was fun.
i had a very disadventageous position, chair-wise.
everything else aside, it was all very fun.

stephen and josh are likely to get together in some way
they're suited for each other:
stephen is an attention whore who can't seem to pursue social matters with initiative
and josh is an attention whore, vain, and a very silly girl.
and i'm not over (the idea of) adam. whoops.
zach seems to have fallen off of the earth; i hope he's okay.

we finished pride and prejiduice. it was all very enjoyable, i loved it. i want to see the other movie now.
koenig watches the 6 hour version once a month. crazy, loveable, pitiable woman...but maybe she's happy like that.
"and what shall you call me when you're most displeased with me?"
"and what shall you call me when you're completely and incandescently happy?"
Mr. ___________...

[creep creep tweep tweep]

senior walk is tomorrow. i feel like i will cry, i do. but i don't think i will, because the rest of our moronic senior class will be there. along with the entirety of the school--bundles of joy.

but it's all really sad. it's where my life has led up to, everything i've ever done.
it's all very happy and all very sad.

[CONTINUUM:] flower wreath-----phantom mask

I'm looking for a large expanse of grass on which i'll lie and a field of fantastic flowers through which i'll frolic.

today i went to michael's to find supplies to make my mask for gayla prom (it's a masquerade). i gave julie the idea of--instead of wearing a hat to senior walk, as her dress looks too much like a fairy's and will clash with a hat--wearing a flower wreath to senior walk. it makes her outfit look so much more sprightly.

but then i realized i don't want her to have a flower wreath--i want a flower wreath.
they make me think of dainty yet romantic poetry, orated and speculated philosophy, an abundance of emerald green grass, dew covering baby butterflies that zip around spreading dew to roses while pollunating them (i comprehend that this is an utterly and completely wrong--one could say, 'ironic'--image), smiling weeping willows, succulent freedom, sweet, honey-like words frothing from your mouth, and beauty and truth galore.

it's all just an image, as is it all a symbol.
everything's a symbol.

but my little arts and crafts project at the moment is entirely different: it will bring out the darker side of me. i'm creating a mask for the gayla prom masquerade. as of now i have a very angular, almost feminine, glove white mask, and two hot glue/dew covered vein red roses. the design for the mask will consist of half the mask covered in the rose petals of one of the roses, and the other half of the mask covered in strips of cut and torn paper. flaking, crispy, (burnt?), curled, jagged, peeling white paper. i suppose i will put the other rose in my coat pocket, for effect. to extents, it's very phantom of the opera, very dark romantic lover. i want it to say something about layers, about masks, about truth, about concelation, about mystery, about romance, and about the utter uselessness of it all.
these masks are continuums, as is sanity.
just as we're only able to concieve infinity in our minds, we can concieve infinite minds.

Paul Laurence Dunbar:
http://www.potw.org/archive/potw8.html
"WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes..."

I see in you...

I see in you a bit of me. the old me, to be specific. but i've learned, i'm better.

when does it all stop? elementary school, middle school, high school, college, work, retirement, death...?
we're all just preparing to prepare to prepare to prepare...
when are you going to take time to have fun? to have a social life? to really exist?
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[revelation]:
but what if you are
but what if you do
but what if you exist


i can't go around applying my situation to everyone. well, i can, but then i'll have too many epiphinies...and not the good kind that come in random bursts or insight, but the bad kind that come in misjudgements and wrong accusations turned on their head: leaving you embarassed and wrong. so very wrong.

still i pity you.

(topic=...love?)

why is it the only topic i want to write about is the only topic i cannot?

it's difficult to be a wandering bard, a penniless minstrel, when i can't bring out of me a single beautiful melodic note about love.

how am i supposed to feel love when i am so detached and apart from the world?
i can see it now: a globe encased in atmosphereic ectoplasm set right in front of me. I am the giant invible man floating above earth, watching inhabitants and occasionally pressing the smite button. Occasionally parting oceans, starting apocolypses, and crying. But here I am, with the world in front of me and i am reaching out for it and it is out of reach and i am grasping and i am watching and i am giving up and i am back to my old ways. a man curled around the earth, at the begining and end of birth, curled around the earth, with no umbilical cord.
can someone join me?
can someone relate?

even without contractions, not even god is satisfied with his life.

eating glass that has been sliced to ribbons

not talking
saying nothing
stagnation
painted, iridescent wallflower
pretty, listening
but quiet

a life unfulfilled
a life wrapped around my head
meticulously analyzed and inactively regretted
yet we're all facing this overwhelming force driving behind it all
that we all recognize yet can't seem to fulfill anything
in time
time
there will be time
the force is time
there will be time for time

but there isn't even an acknowledgement of time
there is no melancholy cyclical tragedy
there is no sleeping afternoons and evenings
not taking of tea
just me
quiet night alone
not part of the action but standing apart

i've been sliced to ribbons


i need to talk with katie alone
walk with katie, in a full blown
conversation on philosophy
and how we cope with anxiety
and then we'll just talk about nothing
and end up on the subject of everything
not knowing where to go
who to talk to, what to know.


this online collegesocial networking is great. although i have a hard time reading comments and responding to them, i like it a lot. it's scary, it's all scary...i love the prospect of college, of this future where i can be me unrestricted; where i can start over. i feel terrible for saying it, but it's true. i don't want to have to worry or be anxious anymore, i just want to be me. throughs, can you just let me be? can you let me be me?

The greatest thing that you'll learn...

I'll love you until the end of time.

Cognitive Dissonance Will Destroy (Or Save?) Us All

I'd like to preference this post by saying that this isn't some soothingly stylized poem nor is it supposed to be. Don't fool yourself, people. I'm saddened to admit, but I've turned this into more of a wastebasket of thoughts than a tabula rasa on which i scribble beauty and truth. We cope.

After that arduous (to read through, not to write; that's how i think) introduction, I've sort of forgotten what I was going to type about. Let's examine what I'm thinking, shall we?

I'm thinking about old boys, josh, american university, the honors school, exctitement/fearfearfear. (kolhberg's theory of) postconventional morality(/awareness), the invisible man, identity, radical civil disobedience, indifference to justice and morals in the face more universal/personal matters, travelling the world as a wandering bard, running away, yearbooks, finality, regret, regret, regret, what ifs, could have beens, prufrock, hope, potential, my love for regret, poetry, my inability to write poetry, self defeating thoughts, philosophy, kp, satan worshipping and virgin sacrifices, no day but today, the most important thing that you will learn, love, regret, love, regret, love unfulfilled, a life unfufilled, and regret.

I'm applying all my psychology terms to everyday situation i'm experience. 'cognitive dissonance' occurs a lot in my life, but only because i can be so persuaded and i am no man of constancy. cognitive dissonance is when actions and beliefs do not match up. here's an example:

say that i don't believe that i'm a person for hookups. say that i'm a rather unflirtatious person and consider myself (comparatively) antisexual, and i tell people this. if for some reason i engage in a hook up or hollow flirting, then i will justify my actions in the face of my beliefs agaisnt such actions. This justification will descensitize me to the concepts i believe in and eventually warp my beliefs. I can justify flirting or hooking up by saying that i'm lonely and no one else talks to me or because i have to practice for the future when it means something. At a point, I will come to see these justifications over my beliefs, and my beliefs will dissapear.

Consider cognitive dissonance and the concept of smoking. Although one may opposed to smoking, once he or she starts, he or she may justify the terrible effects of smoking by considering the social benefits. Thus we have another statistic to add to the lung cancer list.

It seems as though the concept of cognitive dissonance will destroy soceity. This is beause, generally, we are raised to hold ourselves to high morals and standards. Once tempted by sin we will all digress down the latter of morality, justifying each drag we take, making excuses for each random sexual ecounter we have, convincing ourselves of the justice behind concepts such a drugs, sex, and murder.

God knows I have.

The Third Force

Reviewing for psychology today, delving into pages of freud's beautiful psychoanalysis, flipping through sections of the trait theory with my fingers, and weaved within the cognitive-social personality theory, i came upon the part of the Personality chapter on the Humanistic Approach.

And then I realized...according to my whole last post (indicating a strong internal locus of control, implying self actualization and reaching one's potentional and personal perception), I'm a Humanist!

Through studies in psychology class, I've generally associated humanism with optimistic stuffy happy nerds who make up things that can't be tested emprically.

But now I'm one of those nerds.

Oh bother.


time to study for psychology and finance...
here i go, for a final time...

music...art...interepretation...perspective...universe

let's see if i can follow the philosophical crescendo that this concept has created in my mind, with words. (contention: linguistic relativity [contention:i don't believe in that theory])
so here we go...

the train of thought started off a comment from someone. i'll leave the name blank.
"____ said he liked all the different references because it proved i clearly understood the lyrics and song meanings"

i don't believe that there is one set meaning to music, songs, lyrics, or art in general. yes, in the creation of art there is usually a purpose or exigence or story behind the work. and yes, deciphering that story or intended meaning of the artist creates a greater understanding of the work for the audience. however, i believe that art is created to be interpreted. the true meaning of artwork is not what the artist intends, it's how the piece makes the reader/listener/audience feel and think. art is what we see it to be, it is how we interpret the world.

say, for example, i listen to a song about a boy and a girl who break up and how sad the boy is about the break up. That is the latent content of the song, but to me it means nothing. What means something is the sentiment, the feeling the song gives me. If i were to close my eyes and ears and just listen to the songs and rhythms and beats and euphony and just completely feel the song, what i feel is what the song means. nothing else matters.

thus, the way to truly understand art, is just to observe it. Yes, a deeper understand of true intent of the artist may change the meaning of

it's not hard to understand art
nor is it hard to make art

there's too much beauty and truth in the world not to create art; even if you're not consciously making a sculpture or writing, you're living. you're contributing through every emotion you feel and idea you think and word you say and movement you make.

the reason i believe this is because of my philosophy on life. All of our experiences and memories and genetics affect who we are as people. People change, it's a fact. But there's also much continuity in people. thus, we all have different outlooks on life. we all see the world in different shapes and colors, in passionate red, in calm green, in bubbly circles, in sharp corners. we all have different perspectives, and with these perspectives we create our worlds.

i am the god of my universe.

i can control what i see. i can choose to see or not see the obvious, or to overanalyze the world and objects within it. i create and destroy in my world.

my existence is the only thing promised to me, to this world.

i am the only continuous factor in this universe, and even i am constantly changing.

because i have control over everything. i control the world.

events don't happen to me, i happen to events.

this is the strongest internal locus of control one can have; and the most important.

i am the god of my world.

DECA ICDC 2009

"I need a timer"
"I have a toaster pastry"

Salam

"Leave room for Jesus"
"That's what she said!"

Most excellent.
Totally.
Sweet.
Totally Sweet.
Chya, the parental unit.
Rckin'.
Serious thrill dude.
No worries.
Did you feel that there, we just totally shared a moment--We're totally bonding!
You so totally rock!
DUDE!
Questions?
"Where do babies come from?"
"I like to fish!"
Mondo cool.

Remember, Dreams come true

The Little Mermaid, Disney Edition:
"And they live happily ever after...alive...they LIVE...forever."

Fuze yourself with the beat
Lose yourself within the beat

True love stories never end

"preach it, girl!"
"girl, hush yo mouth, girl!

swine break oh nine
hamtharax
snout break

Stories:
Walker laughing mania
judge conspiracy
flammable rubber cement
logan charades
kacy drama
nicoles lemonade
mikey-bear

ROAM

I want to be where there is an expanse of ground. Where the green is abundant and there are not parameters. Nothing is bordered by sidewalks or wal*marts of roads, nothing is obstructing beauty. Just a natural expanse of land to run and play, sit and think, roll and exist.

coming out, you should try it

imhotep agrees, adam likes men
it doesn't affect anything, as you can imagine

breeze in your hair, you just don't care
you can stand up and fight, or you can sit down and write

you are free to dance, free to smile
free to limp your wrist, free to skip for awhile

free from yourself and what you think others think
and you are free from what others think

it's nothing to think about
you should try it out

POWER

I feel like I'm abusing the privelege of having a blog; as if I can just dump any old trinket of a thought, feeling, or inclination--no, blogs are not for being facetious, nor are they for messing around. This is serious stuff, kid; although I know I don't have to tell you this.

But really--really really really, I should stop posting such meaningless gossip and trivial pursuits of thought. I feel that even now I'm committing my aboriginal sin (to talk about talking; to write about writing; to analyze analyzation; to get nowhere, to achieve nothing, and to intellectually commit suicide).

But maybe...but maybe this is art. Maybe such paragraphical musings aren't the molidest of cheeses, maybe gossip and trivial pursuits are beautiful too. Maybe I'm not required to write in perfect pristine prose and alliteration and wonderful syntax and poems and rhyming (nor am I required to edit anything, is what I tell myself) to be an artist, to be who I want to be. Then the reason I'm so ashamed, so predisposed not to write and speak and be such things (first plane shtuff), is because I'm concerend about how I come off. I have pride, dignity. It isn't considered noble to speak of such topics------------this is a lie. As long as I extrapilate the topic to such an unearhtly extent, if I take the literal meaning and flip and mold and turn and bake it for two hours, it will come out on a higher plane. So I shouldn't feel so bad, I should just exist.

[this is the problem with worrying about thinking---at a point you think about worrying, and then worry about thinking about worrying, etcetera etcetera, until you're trapped again. ah, such is the life of one with social anxiety disorder]

But I suppose everyone has to obsess over a disliked person everyonce and awhile. Especially if he means something more than the dimpy shallow person he really is. (it's funny how a shallow person can mean something deep to someone else; my personal measuring stick---now how do I judge myself?)


I shall now go muse on middle school days; oh boy, weren't those the days?

I DO NOT LIKE YOU

I do not like you
there's this sinking feeling when looking at you
like a tongue plopping into water
a foot falling into sand.
You're not that funny;
you're not that interesting
you're not right

flaunting and gawking and expecting

you want me to be jealous, to dislike you, to not want you
you like having an enemy
as do i
you like being cool and being liked and being endured and being stalked and being talked to and being smart
and you like me being alone, unhappy, defeated, beaten, unadored, stupid

you like being better than me
and i can't have that.





i sit here watching you strut your stuff
showing off your new toy
my old one


'i am heaven sent
don't you dare forget...me'






the most depressing part about this whole blog is that this is the whole blog. my first blog is complaining about josh and stephen. wow i'm the lamest ever.
oh and for all you viewers out there, thanks for joining us today.
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