childish

there is something
i know
that does this to me
it's a combination of things
or it is one thing
it happens all of the sudden:
my brain makes the wrong connections
or it doesn't make the right ones
i lose my grasp
on throwaway words
and a way of speaking
that once came so effortlessly
a way of speaking that
formerly defined me
or so i thought
and then i feel no longer like myself
and i am forced to either recalculate
or make an unnatural
attempt at impersonating
who i thought i was before
what i want to know is:
what is it exactly that puts me in this tight spot
and why can't i be self-assured all the time
when will i finally be me--finally
and not have to worry about losing
what i tell myself i am
whether or not that perception is true

in other news

i can't guarantee this post will be coherent. i'm not drunk or anything. i've just been feeling really disorganized in my thinking lately--spread really thin yet brimming with intangible thoughts for which i can't seem to find the words. i'm having a hard time articulating, not just how i feel, but...anything. i don't know what's happened to me. though: i recognize it as a pattern. every two months or so i get into these little ruts where i feel totally wiped out--totally stifled. perhaps i'm imagining it. who knows.

anyway: i've been thinking a lot recently (in addition to so many other things) about what i want to do now that i've graduated with a useless liberal arts degree. i'm sort of stuck: i can either try to find a job with the worthless degree i have now or go back to school for something else--either something i enjoy or something that will make me decent money--a livable income. it's sort of reminds me of when i was a kid and i went to places like chuck e. cheese's or great times. at the end of the trip i was confronted with the horrendous decision to either save the tickets i earned for the next time so that i could get a bigger prize or cash them in then because it was uncertain when i'd go back--or if i'd go back--and there were smaller prizes which were attractive because they were conveniently immediate and within my ticket range. i don't want to settle for something that will make me unhappy but i'm not so certain there's a job out there that will make me happy: even (or especially if) it's a job i "enjoy." the thing with me is: i need some degree of contention in my life. i can't feel passionate about anything because then...i don't feel passionate about it anymore. i need to feel at odds with some major aspect of my life to appreciate the things i truly enjoy by contrast. i don't want to end up doing something i love and then find myself no longer to appreciate it outside of work--or at all; not being able to enjoy it as a job either. this is why i'm considering accounting. it's so against everything i am (in theory): but it works because it's somewhat mindless and pays well. i like mindless tasks (to an extent). i like washing dishes. i like stacking boxes. the trick for me is to get into the rhythm of whatever i'm doing: then it becomes sort of trance-inducing and easier to tolerate--it goes by quicker. and number-crunching is pretty much the penultimate in mindless trance-inducing tasks: it appeals to me in the same way the idea that warhol used to paint copy after copy of the same picture while listening to the same song on his walkman over and over for hours on end appeals to me. it's the only way i can simultaneously enjoy what i'm doing (by not enjoying it--or by not enjoying it too much) and still feel validated in my career choice. the thing with me is: if everything in my life is perfect and i do exactly what i want to all the time, i, because of my nature, have to start hating something (i'm just such a natural contrarian) so i start hating the things i'm passionate about--which i don't want. i want to still enjoy the things i enjoy and the only way to do that is to not enjoy something else--something else entirely unrelated. maybe it's a sign of immaturity. that's just the way i am.

i've also thought about becoming a librarian, which would only require a few more years of grad school. the thing with that, however, is that there's no demand in today's world (and it's doubtful this will ever change) for librarians. the pay is decent enough. but i want to be more or less sure that there will be a job waiting for me once i graduate (whatever it is i decide to do).

in other news: matt came over today. it was nice. we went to fazoli's, which andrew calls "fags only" and had a good old time sitting around a table with booths on either side in the very back corner where i feel most comfortable--in public yet still pretty private and in the company of people i like.

also: practice went well. it was nice seeing my parents. and it actually felt pretty great playing music with the band again.

i realized today that everything i write has a distinctive quality to it. not good necessarily. but distinctive, which is something.

stranger

the creative impulse has been stifled. i no longer know who i write for or why i write at all--why i bother to create or what i'm trying to communicate. i see images--millions of images--i take them in and do nothing with them because i am too overwhelmed. they get caught in my throat or like a foreign object in my brain they slowly spread their idle infection.

start off with an interview.
start off with a neat little phrase.
develop the story from there--let it write itself.

i want to create something pure
something genuine true and honest
but i have ideas about how it should look and feel in the end
and i'm too afraid i think to
just write
the final product never matches the envisioned ideal
heightened language: a tell-tale sign of schizophrenia
i am unable to say what i am thinking
without carefully weighing each word
for affect
let's hope i never find myself in a situation where life or death
means talking
means writing
means communicating

let's just hope that never happens

i sometimes worry that i'll be wrongfully convicted of murder because i am unable to tell my side of the story intelligibly

i am too stupid
too distracted
to keep myself out of trouble

ltr

the cashier is racing to get every item scanned as quickly as possible. there are five checkout lines open out of a possible thirty-two checkout lines in the store. through each of the five open checkout lines, the same relative number of customers are being funneled, widening out at the end of the lines into the young ladies' clothing section. the woman unloading her cart dillydallies--offering commentary on each item she puts onto the belt, seemingly unaware of the swarm around her--the heated looks of the customers waiting behind her in line.

"oh, these--" she says, wild-eyed and holding a box of chocolate coffee health bars in front of the cashier, "have you tried these? they're great!"

the cashier continues scanning the woman's items. it's apparent to everyone waiting in line that the cashier is not interested in the woman's attempts at small talk. the woman persists, dropping a box of glow-in-the-dark condoms on the belt.

"can't remember the last time i bought those. i've been spayed!"

the woman laughs to herself--doesn't bother looking at the cashier's reaction or anyone else around her--almost as if it were her own private game in which she is forced to come up with one little quip about each item before it is bagged.

she takes the next filled bag and puts it into her cart, having finally finished unloading.

"how much do i owe you?" she asks, bringing out her checkbook. she looks at the screen displaying the total and squints her eyes. the cashier says meekly: "forty-one. sixty-two." but the woman is still squinting at the screen. "what's that say? forty-one. sixty--."

"sixty-two," the cashier says.

bringing her pen down from where she holds it eagerly hovering above her checkbook, she makes out the check in very ornate-looking but hurried cursive.

later...

begin

"you should be crying. you should be a mess right now. that's your father in that casket over there. you should be an absolute wreck right now."

make me call you daddy

http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0711/58937_Page2.html#comments

obama to gop: go fuck yourselves.
me to obama: hell yes!

vent

there is a world outside fox news: and it looks like a veritable intellectual utopia in comparison.

as a person who values "fair and balanced" journalism, i want to know why fox news has neglected to report on the news of the world phone hacking ordeal. i've checked the webpage twice within the past week and nary a mention of the scandal has been made. instead: a fluff piece about the "genius" (no kidding, this is the term they used) who created gilligan's island: a show so inept that it requires viewers to believe one of the island's stranded inhabitants could fashion a telephone from coconuts yet he can't seem to apply that same resourcefulness to building a boat, say, to get them off the fucking island.

i think fox news' definition of genius and mine are a little different.

however: smear-piece stories abound on how obama is a baby for using the same defiant tactics the gop has used in negotiations all throughout obama's presidency: specifically, how obama "stormed out" of a debt crisis meeting because the gop were unwilling to compromise on a viable debt solution. the logic seems to be: the gop can throw tantrums and drag their heels in the name of furthering their agenda: filibustering nearly every fucking issue, but when dems get sick of indulging their childish bullshit...they're just being babies.

fucking ridiculous.

obama's going to lose this next election, not because he's a bad president, but because he's up against overgrown toddlers who don't understand the concept of democracy and compromise. every fucking issue is met with opposition from republicans: issues that serve the greater good of everybody. why? because he's "durp durp socialist durp durp." it's truly frightening what this country has come to and i hold fox news (and it's selective reporting techniques) responsible. for keeping conservatives in the dark: for turning them into rhetoric-reciting morons who follow blindly what they're told to follow by these underhanded fake news organizations. it's obvious--painfully fucking obvious--to anyone outside that sphere that fox news has an agenda; that the gop has an agenda: to keep the rich rich and trick the middle and lower classes into supporting these crooks by telling them that to do otherwise is un-american, which in my opinion is closer to evil than socialism (never mind that no one who makes these accusations even knows what socialism means): something bordering on orwellian. it's sick: it's lying by omission; neglecting to present all the facts. these organizations like fox news are in cahoots with big business, republicans are in cahoots with big business: and they see to it that their own agenda is pushed; that their own interests are promoted and reconfigured so that people like joe schmo blue collar conservative gets duped into believing it's his responsibility as an american to support their agenda.