Life Lessons Live!

Fri, 03 Apr 2009 16:07:15 GMT

Happiness wears a clever disguise. As abstract as it is, it plays the role of a concrete, singularly defined goal set by each one of us. It is easily obtainable but, just like a drug it's peak levels never reach our heart and minds expectations. To say happiness is a cruel emotion would be a vast understatement.

That's all I guess.

Tue, 17 Mar 2009 17:40:43 GMT

Oh my god, that smell.
Spring. The longest winter I have come to experience has finally come to pass.
That smell!

I apologize in advance for this, but it doesn't matter how you cut it. For me, personally, these feelings. This beauty. Rebirth. Spring! - It is evidence enough for me that God exists. There must be a creator.

Why do we wage wars over absolutely nothing? Look outside.
Fucking smile, how lucky are we just be alive? :)

Shotgun. No Blitz.

Wed, 11 Feb 2009 17:04:51 GMT

Who is this kid?

What a fucking clown. Always walkin' around like he owns the world. Who does he think he is? He's unstoppable. An average sized snowball at the top of a an enormous hill that coincidentally houses six billion people. Boundless and endless he is in his mental mindset. Nothing can rattle him. Colossal. Ideal. Simply put, this guys in the zone. In the fuckin' zone.

180 degree flip flop, yeah this kid's that hot, can't stop cause in his head he's solid as a rock, and you got to think it won't be long before this no name's on top.

His talents radiate vibrantly off of him, as if he's constantly surrounded by an enormous could of potential. He knows it. Yo, he's gettin' older too. Gettin' smarter. Ideas and experience are evaporating now at record breaking rates. The cloud's swelling, so watch where you step bitch, cause it's about to fuckin' rain.

You scared? You should be. Hey, relax. Don't kill the messenger.
Bang.

several let downs later

Fri, 23 Jan 2009 05:02:56 GMT

I'm no professional. Not yet.
But this shit's free, so don't bitch!

And it's good. Real good.

Sometimes you feel it, and sometimes you don't. Sometimes I'm here, and usually you're there. I like to build fictional stories inside my head. I see people, everyday. A girl, in a department store. Auditions are over, she got the lead role. Actresses cast? Just one.

I don't know her name, and probably never will. I've never heard her speak, but her voice compliments her character description so nicely that I don't even take that into account.

Okay! We've found a canvas. A blueprint, or fresh page of a coloring book. But, not quite as simple. More like, a painting kit you might find in a store. You get a black and white outline of a very detailed picture. Dolphins jumping, or something. There's a couple different sized paint brushes, and a dozen different colors of paint all strung together in very tiny, thimble-sized plastic containers. The printed picture is divided into hundreds of sections. Within each section is a number, that coincides respectively to each of the paint colors.

he might be dead.

Mon, 29 Dec 2008 10:45:29 GMT

This is what it feels like when the Earth stands still.
I am entirely missing. Off the radar.
Gone.

I weather my own defenses. They erode over time. Weaken.
I infect my motivation. My future goals.
Everything feels very far. Detached.
Incomplete.

I am a beacon of light.
I am a beacon, sunken by sin.
I am dormant.

I'm me. Who you? ...Oh Jesus... I'm sorry.

Wed, 10 Dec 2008 06:37:12 GMT

Oh, it's strange.
Something that I don't understand.

Just the way periods of time come and go throughout life. Phases. You know, that overall feeling of content or discontent that is currently governing your life. - They frequently change. Sometimes, I find myself in a two week period of absolute bliss. Every single hour of every single day feels promising. Smooth. The glass is half full. Even on a day that isn't quite going my way, I am not rattled. I am content with life, and view it and all it encompasses in a positive light.

And then, without warning, a shift. A disruption. Very, very subtle in the beginning. Feelings begin to mutate. Slowly, they are transformed from perfection to devestation. Catastrophe. This period always feels so much longer than the previous. Almost endless. It's like... constantly falling through an empty, pitch black abyss, without that awful roller coaster feeling in your stomach. You're frightened. Alone. Clawing at anything that feels like support.

But that fades too.

Sometimes into another period of utopia. And, the cycle is then repeated. - But other times, during strange years, you might find yourself straying into an emotionless period. Nothingness. And this can somehow be peaceful, especially if you're just recovering from that nightmare of a free fall. But you know it's not that good feeling. It's just nothing. And you'll take nothing, and absolutely love it.

For me, that's usually the summer phase. All my friends are home. I'm with the same great people every single night. And, I'm absolutely hammered literally every night. A crutch? Maybe. Or maybe, just a catalyst for nothingness. And we like nothingness, remember?

Needless to say, I haven't really drank anything since summer. - I'm gonna be twenty in April and I still haven't gone to Canada. I don't really care. It's not on my priority list. I quit smoking cigarettes almost a month ago, and I feel fucking amazing. I weighed 205 pounds in July, and I now weigh roughly 168. I play hockey 3-4 times every week, and I'm in the best shape I've been in since my junior year of high school. I have great friends, a great job, a lot of potential, and a fucking shit ton truck load of talent that I'm waiting to fucking unload onto everyone.

Basically, I'm the fucking man right now.
Call me conceited, I don't care. I don't give a fuck what you think. I don't give a fuck if you care or not. Because, right now, for the first time EVER, I'M the MOST IMPORTANT person in MY life! Nothing and no one comes before me (until I meet that next pretty girl I unintentially fall head over heals in love with...) and it's gonna stay that way until I see fit.

It felt really, really good to say that.
I'm sorry, that was slightly out of character.
I love you all. Take care of yourselves.

respect your elders.

Mon, 24 Nov 2008 05:40:58 GMT

About two months ago, I was in the middle of an opening shift at the Starbucks I used to work at. I had left the floor to do a lobby sweep, or "twirl" as many within the company call it, which consists of wiping crumbs off tables, checking the condiment bar and bathrooms, and emptying garbage cans that are teeming with disgusting garbage. - This particular morning was very busy. People coming in and out at a consistently overwhelming pace. It's these types of mornings that truly put the employees patience and nerves to the ultimate test. If things are not run smoothly behind the counter there is a high chance of extreme meltdown. Drinks get backed up. This increases the customer's wait time. That frustrates and infuriates the customers. Baristas then, become more careless. Quality of beverage then diminishes, and it's just one huge mother fucking mess.

So, picture that scenario on this particular morning. Then, multiply it by ten thousand. Yeah, that's about right. Absolute chaos. Anarchy. People literally on the verge of choking one another just to get there non-fat latte and make it to work on time. It's utter insanity this morning.

So, I quickly step into the cafe and begin to wipe down the condiment bar and organize the different sugars and powders that people have thrown all over the place, maybe in an attempt at revenge? I don't know, doesn't matter. I just fix them. - I proceed to wipe down a few crumb covered tables that are within a close proximity to the condiment stand. I skip the bathroom. The only thing on my mind is how quickly can I return behind the line and help finish off these beverages. I'm helpless as I watch my co-workers fumble cups and spill syrups. This must be the apocalypse. That's all I can think of.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the narrow, under-sized trash can next to the door exploding with goo. Half finished drinks, pastry bags, mocha and milk all over the side of the damn thing. The floor around it is wet. Insanity. Nothing is making sense.

I sprint to door to change the bags out. After wrestling with the can for several minutes, I finally manage to pull everything out and replace it with two fresh plastic garbage bags. I do this without hesitation, knowing far well that within the next ten minutes these two new bags will meet the same terrible fate as the poor, ruined souls that I'm holding in my hands.

I spot two elderly couples walking towards the exit that I'm standing in front of. Almost instinctively I drop the infested trash bags and open the door for the four of them, holding it open as much as possible so they can easily make their way out. This is something we are not specifically trained to do, but legendary customer service is the reason that Starbucks is the undisputed worldwide champion of coffee. So, why not prove that to our customer's every time I can?

The first couple exits, followed by the second. The last one to walk out is a man. He must be the oldest of the four of them. He can't walk very well, and so he slowly hobbles through the opening. When he was completely outside the building, he stopped and turned to me. Looking me directly in the eyes at 8 in the morning, he uttered two short sentences that no one in my entire life has ever said to me.

"You do good work, son. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."

I could have cried. - I thanked him with one of my patented automated "Thank You, Sir." Just one of the thousand that I might say during a typical shift. I walked back inside and closed the door. - Suddenly it was quiet. There weren't that many people in the store. Frustration levels had fallen. The chaos had been calmed. - I slowly walked back behind the line, took a deep breath, smiled and said, "How are you miss? Can I start a beverage for you this morning?"

I will never, ever forget that day.
I will never, ever let anyone tell me different.

Cataclysm.

Sat, 22 Nov 2008 22:54:45 GMT

When you think about the world, do you feel more evil?
I always do.

Is this because we are overly-exposed to the American media, which primarily focuses on evil in the world? After all, negative news is the only kind that's entertaining. Or, is this because the world is actually corrupt? Has my generation's minds been chemically altered at a subatomic, undetectable level? - Or are we just living in a world dominated by evil motives? And, if so, does that make us evil as individuals?

Shouldn't my primary concerns be school, work, friends and personal happiness?
I wish they were. Instead I focus on all this existential bullshit. Questions that cannot be answered. Fears that are viewed as implausible, or highly unlikely. Are they? Or does society not quite understand how important they might actually be.

Why does society demand an answer for everything?
Is it impossible for something to not have a concrete answer?
Why the overwhelming skepticism? Is society that arrogant?
Or am I just that ignorant?

Why do I think about this!?
Why do I lose sleep over this!?

Shouldn't I lose sleep over personal stress? Finances? Girls?
Not Judgment Day. Not catastrophe. Not conspiracy. Not the end.

December 21st, 2012
The Winter of Sorrow.

I sure hope I'm pretty gullible.

the reward for faith is to see what you believe.

Fri, 21 Nov 2008 07:33:46 GMT

Onward.

I have so many thoughts.
Ideas.
Questions.
Revelations.

They go unnoticed.
Untouched.
Unanswered.
Incomprehensible.

Still, onward.

We push. We all do. One step. Two steps.
Ten in the opposite direction.
Some intentional, and some not.
This formula. This is life. It is fact.
It can be cruel.

Literally, day in and day out my general thought process seems to be predominantly focused on existential (really, unimportant) matters. The more I think about it, the more I realize how absolutely unnecessary we are. People, that is. Human beings, and everything we encompass. Either, (a) there is ultimately a greater meaning behind all of this that our capacities in this form could NEVER understand, or (b) there is nothing behind this. Thus, rendering life, existence and everything we experience on a day to day basis obsolete. Pointless. Worthless, even.

The second of the two being a little bit hard to swallow for most of us, I would assume. - We have faith in different things because it's how we were raised. There is truth behind most recognized religions, and this comforts us. This is essential to survive, almost. Everyone has some system of beliefs. It doesn't have to be religious or spiritual. They just need their own rules to live by. Religion, as some of my friends have often put it, essentially exists just to suppress what is ultimately chaos.

I will agree to disagree. - Yes, that is true, but is only a product of what is ultimately the bigger picture. I have no proof to back up any of this. That's the best part. And, neither do you. Because if you could prove faith, then it wouldn't be faith.

Somehow I always start writing in this thing. Usually, with no direction. Dammit, I'm so lost. I'm spinning. Spiraling downward. Completely, utterly out of control. - Confused. Mislead. - I need some kind of comfort. - I am not ashamed to admit that a couple months ago I lost someone who meant a lot to me. Someone I think I loved at one point. Maybe, all along. Whatever transpired between us is over now. It doesn't matter who is to blame because we can play that game all fuckin' day but it's not going to turn back any clocks. - Well, what I'm saying here is that, yeah, that relationship meant a lot to me - But, if I could go make things better between us, right this very second, I wouldn't. - It was dysfunctional. It was a distraction for me. All that did was cover my eyes with blinders, so I couldn't see the terror in my peripheral vision. - Quite frankly, there is much better out there that suites my needs, and that will allow me to reach my maximum potential. - Everybody has to fail a couple times in order to succeed. I'm just following the big plan.

I'm very content with myself right now. And by that I mean I'm not at all lonely. My priorities have shifted colossally in the past months. I know who my friends are. I know who my friends are not. I know who good people are, and I know who sick, twisted fucking people are. You're a product of your environment. Look around you.

A product, yes. A replica, no. - You can fight the things you are that you don't want to be. You just gotta recognize them. - I'm learning all this new shit as I go. But all you cock suckers out there who think I'm crazy. Fuck you. You have no idea what I think. To all you shitheads that think I'm an asshole. Good. Fuck you too. Maybe, if you're lucky you might work for me one day.

And on that note, I'm not quite sure what the fuck I just wrote.
I'm gonna start planning this shit out before I write.
Really, that wouldn't help.

This is just filler. This whole thing.
Disregard, disregard, disregard.
Oh my god.

Yeah, I'm a pretentious fuck. Sue me.

Sat, 15 Nov 2008 22:56:47 GMT

Quick, quick, quick.
Just a quick update.

Just had a few lingering thoughts that I wanted to jot down. My internal ventilation system has been redlining for the last 48 hours and everything is starting to bottleneck. I'm either about to blow the fuck up, or calmly release what needs to be released. Your guess is as good as mine. They didn't build these things with instruction manuals and trouble shooting options back in 1989.

--- --- ---

I just wrote for an hour. Then I deleted it all.
I don't know what compelled me to do this.

I want a text message. I want it to say, "You were right. I'm sorry."
Exactly one week. Starting now.
Swallow your pride.
No one finds out, everyone wins.
Think hard.

As for you -
You will never be respected.
Apparently, that doesn't skip a generation.
I'm embarrassed for you.

How do people like this sleep at night?

I love my new store. I love my new management. I love my new partners.
I'll always miss you, 2505. But, this has to be happening for a reason.
Life is good. But, I still wanna pull the trigger.

Just to make you cry.
Lush.

mice or men?

Wed, 12 Nov 2008 08:56:22 GMT

I have a plan I think.
It is centered around human relationships.
Unique reactions at the cellular level.
Inside me.

Can free will and destiny coexist?
Fuck.

I don't wanna do the things I do anymore. I'm sorry. I'm trying to quit.
I hope I did not just ruin the best lain plans.

So everything was quite obviously the same... - But, for some reason it all just felt so new to me. So, mysterious. Homely, and comfortable. And it was the absolute brightest night time sky I had ever witnessed in Southern Michigan. Reminiscent of old, obscure memories I quickly became. Almost as if my brain had been drugged. Poisoned even, so that the emotions generated by my sensory preceptors were tainted. A mysteriously pleasant tainting, I might add. Something that I enjoyed. Savored. I began to feel the first traces of belonging, and purpose. The roots of happiness, and the endless thickets of opportunity we all blindly sift through. I felt no stronger than my brother. No smarter than my sister. No more deserving of a place on this earth, than my opposite races and religions. It is our natural born right. One that not even God himself could destroy.

Why do I contribute to the thoughts, actions, and displays that I despise? How do I counter my hypocrisies. Why do I not practice what I preach? Because I am a coward. I am easily broken. I may have lost many things already. People, potential, afterlife.

Am I old enough now wear decisions I make can skew my ultimate destiny?
Or can I still bite the hand that feeds me without being scolded?
Seems like a thin line.

We're all going to die one day. Maybe we will all die together in apocalyptic fashion. Maybe we will just die alone. It is coming. Inevitable occurrence. Very frightening to me, actually. I don't know if my fear is death, or the unknown? - Maybe both, slight advantage unknown.

My point here being. This instance, your life, is right here, right now. It's pretty short. I'm 20 years old, just about. 20. - That means in close to 60 years I will most likely be dead. Gone. My life is 1/4 over. It was a blink of an eye!

What I mean is this. When I die, or when you die. When anyone dies, I mean. Never, ever is there a single reason or excuse for anyone to hate anyone. Nothing you did to me in this life can significantly impact the next part of whatever journey I am on. And vice versa.

I guess I just hope that I didn't piss anyone away who is supposed to be important in my life. Sometimes I feel like people do that. - This isn't a real entry. Don't read it. I have to go to sleep. I'm not sure what all this says or means. Owwwwwwwwwwwwww.

I am an American. I live in the single greatest country in the world. My voice has been heard.

Tue, 04 Nov 2008 21:32:34 GMT

I voted.
I voted for Barack Obama/Joseph Biden.
It wasn't easy. I didn't think it would be.
But, I made the right decision.

I am a conservative. The majority of my beliefs lie with the GOP.
Small government. Less reckless spending.
My money belongs to me. Essential taxes are necessary. But I'll be damned if I'm paying for Joe Lowlife's health care, under a universal plan.

Privatize health care! Create competition among companies!
What does competition do? Lowers Prices. Now Joe Lowlife can afford his health care!

Here's a good example we can all relate to: Subway wanted to eliminate their opponents. What did they do? $5 Footlongs! It was a smashing success. Two months later? Quizno's introduces an almost identical concept.

I, the consumer, now have two perfectly affordable options! I win!

*** *** *** ***

That is the essential idea. Yes, it's not perfect. There are quite obviously two sides, if not more, to every point of view. Hence, the multiparty system we see today. - But my instinctual nature tells me that I earned my money. I went to school. Got an education. Was hired. Paid my dues, and worked my way to the top. And what is my payoff? I'm now a millionaire, and luck played virtually no part in my success.

This isn't selfish. I will donate money to charities and causes that I believe in. But, Federal Government must play a minimum role. Stay out of my shit. Distribute your money in areas that are essential to the well-being, benefit and survival of our nation.

NOW WAIT! - What about little Johnny? He was born in the city. He lives with his mom. She barely makes ends meet. She pissed away her life a long time ago. She sells her body just to survive. Johnny never met his dad. He never will. Johnny grows up alone. No one has ever loved him.

Johnny is brilliant. Capable of more than you or I can ever achieve. But, no one will ever know his potential. Not even little Johnny himself. He grows up, emulates the lifestyle in which he was raised. And eventually, dies.

This is why I didn't sleep last night.
All I could think about was Johnny.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Big business has enormous power in this country. Free Enterprise. It is essential to our nation's survival. The country was molded into what it is today because of it. It is a key component in the value of our dollar. Private, individually owned businesses have single-handily raised our economy to all time highs throughout history.

Henry Ford. Bill Gates. JP Morgan. Walt Disney.

If business is conducted ethically, there is no need for larger than life centralized government. The problem today being, important companies rarely seem to run anything ethically. - When you're making money faster than you can spend it all, arrogance and greed have a tendency to filter into your thought process. And this isn't to say all companies do this, but I'm sure you can see how this can happen.

So I'm the CEO of XYZ inc. I'm fuckin' loaded, baby. Cash coming out of my ears. Livin' the life. - I got some decisions to make with my money, though. - I could found some kind of local committee, and we can get together and discuss ways that we can use a percentage of the company's earnings to donate to Little Johnny's cause. We can make sure that the money is only spent on this cause. Because one day, Johnny is going be a doctor, or a journalist, or maybe he's going to own a company just like mine! And, (crosses fingers) he is going to take his money and do the same thing for the new generation of kids that were just like him! Oh, and you know what... I still have quite a bit of money left over that I really, really don't need. I already live in a mansion with my wife and children. I can easily afford all this, and still have all this left over money! I'm going to give all my employees a Christmas bonus. They are hard workers, and wonderful people. They undoubtedly deserve it. And not only will they be excited and have a wonderful holiday, but they will come back for the new year, happy, even more enthusiastic about their work because now they know that their individual hard work has completely paid off. Life is good.

Holy shit, I'm gonna make myself cry. I wanna meet this guy.
Wait - I am this guy!

*I'm going to exaggerate the following. Principle ideas are the same.
*And really, it might not be that far fetched in some cases.

OR I can take that money that I was going to use for those heart-warming things, and surprise my family with an outrageously priced, Christmas vacation getaway to an island that I have rented for us. Rented. FOR ONLY US. No need to worry about plane tickets, we're just gonna take my private jet there, flown by my personal pilot that I pay handsomely. I bought my daughter an equestrian horse for Christmas, and don't tell her but... I even built a stable for it on our property, and hired a full time caretaker for it! As for my son? He is turning 16 soon! New driver! I bought him a Porsche. They have always been his favorite car, since he was a kid. And my lovely, fake-breasted wife? The new rock that I'm going to slip onto her finger could quite literally blind you! Just another piece to add to her collection. We have a walk in safe in our master bedroom, just for her jewelery! This new one will be there soon. She usually doesn't wear the same piece for more than a year anyway. Go figure? I don't even want to mention how much I spent on this one. I even thought it was a little pricey...

There might be a tiny chunk of excess cash left over when I get back. You know, my employees work pretty hard for me. I might toss them a few extra bones! In January, of course. After Christmas is over. You know what - I'll throw in a subscription to the Jelly of the Month club too, for free!! (Please, someone get that joke!)

It's Christmas Eve. Johnny's cold. His house is dark.
Where's the Christmas tree?
Where's mom?
He doesn't know.

Do you understand my internal conflict now?
But, if I chose option #1 - We can avoid big government.
I pray for the day the majority of business is run with option #1-esque ethics.
Unfortunately, it is a FAR STRETCH of the imagination.
It is not impossible.

*** *** *** *** ***

I am a conservative minded individual.
I voted for Barack Obama/Joesph Biden.
I have zero regret.
Call his plan socialistic. You wouldn't be entirely wrong.
But really do we have a better option at this point.
I do not believe so.

Please comment. Agree. Disagree. Argue. Praise. Anything.
I want to hear everything you thought about and felt when you read this.
I want every side, and every opinion. Be it just, or unjust. Biased or unbiased.
Speak your fucking mind.
Now.

The End.

this blog is like low SPF sunblock. i'm still gonna get burned, but for some reason i still use it.

Mon, 03 Nov 2008 07:08:34 GMT

I am overwhelmed in every sense we posses. I see things that others do not. I dream the future. I am surrounded by energies that do not translate into human emotions. I hear colors. I taste music. This exact moment in time, as I write, and as you read, has already occurred. Time is not linear. I do not think this. I know this. My sensory perception is multiple times that of yours. I am cold and outcast. My ruler, Venus, has abandoned me.

I say this without hesitation. And at what cost? For one, my personal sanity. And second, how you view me. Am I a prophet or a nut case? That question's answer is not a matter of opinion, and cannot be answered by you nor I.

I am overwhelmed. And trapped. I have no jurisdiction over my fingers. They are graceful. I, am not.

Please follow me. Believe in something you have never seen, heard or felt. Trust me. It is the only path to ultimate knowledge and salvation.

Why is that hard? What do you believe in now? And when is the last time something tangible verified your faith?

I scare myself when I play devil's advocate.

This entry began as non-fiction.
God, help me.

My Thesaurus

Sun, 02 Nov 2008 10:39:53 GMT

You and I, friend, have much to address. And, you have my word that it will be addressed. My fingers never exercise censorship. Which, is a testament to their, for lack of a better word, power. My potential knows no boundaries. I am essentially, limitless. My capacities are an infinite abyss for knowledge and skill. They are never satisfied. And, rightfully so.

Define: Adversity
See Also: Opportunity.

Why does it always seem that just when things begin to look promising, the cornerstones of my very foundations buckle, and crumble, under the weight of the universe.

It was a sick, fucking joke.
It was an unwarranted attack.
It worked. You cracked me.

I didn't deserve any of this one.
But, I've learned to pick my battles.
And you, along with your poorly chosen entourage, are light years behind me.
I'd be excited too. The very inclusion of you in my thoughts is your greatest worldly achievement to date.

Thu, 30 Oct 2008 10:49:34 GMT

I'm a little different.
Why was I the last one to figure that out?

For all intents and purposes, it's morning. Except I haven't gone to sleep yet. My sleep schedule is a little fucked. Sleep time is generally between 6am and 3pm. I don't see enough daylight. I want to fix it, but for some reason it's easier said than actually done.

So I've been skimming through this journal for the last 15 minutes or so. This is something I do on occasion. Hell, it's a huge part of the reason I even started doing this in the first place. It's exciting to go back to random dates a couple years ago and see what seemingly important thoughts or events were running through my head. Rereading things I have written in here is a pretty unique experience. For one, I learn things about myself. How I viewed things in the past, compared to how I view them, or would have viewed them now. I've had this particular journal since January of 2004 I believe, and I had another one that dates back to even a year before that. I can literally watch myself grow up through my own writing. It's like a reel of home videos but on paper. Or in this case, on the internet.

Most people probably wouldn't keep a journal like this on the internet. Don't believe me? Look at my fucking friends page. Empty! It seems that these days people my age are more interested in social networking utilities such as Facebook and Myspace, than they are in blogging in general. Which is fine. I personally am of the opposite opinion. If blogging was the primary form of social networking among the people I know, I would never leave my computer. I would read, write, comment, reply, post - All day. All night. In my humble opinion, there is just so much more substance in the written word than there is in pictures, movies and "comments" on profiles that read so fake it literally sometimes hurts my eyes.

I'm not bashing these social networks. I use them. We all do. Believe it or not, they do serve a purpose. All the bullshit aside, they're a perfect way to keep in touch with people that otherwise you might never speak to again. Our generation has a much higher potential to be great friends with people that we met in grade school, simply because of the technology that is available to us. That's great! It's just that, ideally, it could be done differently. - But there is no one to blame here. How can paragraph after paragraph of text ever succeed over personal profiles, pictures, videos, and least we forget, bumper stickers? - The fact is, it can't, it won't, and it never, ever will.

So why do I write in this still? Lots of reasons, all of equal importance. - Like I said before, I use this journal to learn more about myself. Comparing and contrasting periods of my life. That is why this is titled "The Colossal Failure of Experimental Learning" - It's a little sarcastic, yes - But the truth is, this really is an experimental form of teaching myself that I have developed for the betterment of myself. - It didn't start out that way. I just wanted to write. It has just recently, over the last couple years, shaped itself into the tool that I use it for today.

Another reason that I write, and again I stress in no particular order, is because it's just what I do. I write. I love to write. I love pens, ink and paper. I collect them. I probably have over 15 separate notebooks scattered throughout my bedroom that all have various amounts of different writings in them. I love keyboards, and typing. You were the kid that absolutely despised Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing? I was the freak in the corner of the room who complained but secretly loved it! Any kind of writing. Fiction, non-fiction, science-fiction, poetry, scripts, novels, short stories, mystery, Shakespeare - It doesn't matter. Any style of writing. Any era of writing. Any kind of any writing. I think I made my point.

Why? Because it doesn't matter what the hell the topic is. Or what writing guidelines the author followed. Or how long, or short the piece is. No - The only thing that matters is how the writer presented the material. His/her style and methods of taking something abstract, like thoughts, and translating it into something that is tangible. Something that you can hold in your hand and read. - Sure, pretty much anyone can do that, right? Yup, they can. But I really believe there are only a handful of people in the world who are so damn talented that they can take those thoughts, and rework them onto paper without losing a smithereen of the emotion and energy that the original thought or thoughts contained. A brilliant writer can use this art to make his audience feel exactly the same emotions that he/she initially felt. In a sense, these people posses the keys that admit entrance to areas of your heart and mind that not even you can access willingly. It's a phenomenon , really.

And all you have to do is READ!

Brilliant writers cannot be taught their skill. I believe they are born with the raw talent already inside them. Whether or not they ever notice it, share a passion for it, or take steps towards molding and harnessing that raw, undefined talent into something as powerful as what I described in the previous paragraph is another story in itself. But, there is a limited potential that people born without the skill can reach, and then there is the few who are born with this almost unknown supernatural power. Truly a "sixth sense", if you will.

If you took the time to read this, I hope it changed the way you look at the subject just ever so slightly. Some things might have some across a little exaggerated or emphasized for dramatic effect. That wasn't my intention. I believe 100% in everything I just wrote. So much in fact, that I would, and will back my own life with my faith in this ancient art form.

I spun this entry the wrong direction that I intended for it to spin. That's ok. In fact, more often than not that's exactly what happens. I love this thing. I let my mind tell my fingers what to do. I just lay here, in awe. I wish I could explain it better. It's just another way I learn about myself. Knowledge about anything, even yourself, is power.

I started tonight by saying I'm different. Do you understand now?
Thank you for reading.

Post Script: For my own anal tendencies, I must make clear that I am aware that "smithereen" is not actually an English word. Smithereens, strangely enough, does not have a singular form. Nothing makes any sense, damnit.

And you held me down. Yeah, you held me down.

Tue, 21 Oct 2008 07:16:29 GMT

My hair is long.
I think it gets longer every day. It must be growing.
Don't think I'll cut it.

I have a beard. It's long.
I have not shaved in over a month.
I probably won't shave it.

I am in love,
with no one.
No, no. You don't understand.
My smile is just about touching my ear lobes.
I plan to keep it this way.

I have lost over 25 pounds.
I feel amazing.

Lie Detector: You are in love.

Ok. Yes. With Pam from The Office.
No. Not Jenna Fischer.
Pam. She does not exist. Not actually love.

Side Note: Transferring stores.
New Starbucks. Crooks and Big Beaver. Until January.
Goodbye Maple & Lahser.

I am moving in January.
~~West Bloomfield~~
~~Oakland County~~

Don't call me.
~~I'll call you.~~
I won't call you.

I want to live in Stranglethorne Vale. Minus gorillas, tigers, and pathers.

Mon, 06 Oct 2008 07:33:46 GMT

So, what the fuck have I done?
Nothing.

I wake up. Everything is the same. Nothing has changed from the night before. My window is still slightly cracked open. My TV is still on. My computer is still on my desk. My clothes are still exactly where I left them the night before, sprawled out across my floor. Along with my clothes are various trinkets, controllers, remotes and whatchyamacallits. They're perfectly scattered, as if they were placed there on purpose. Some kind of abstract art, maybe. - I still feel the same as I did before I fell asleep. I'm quiet. Maybe my hair grew a little bit, maybe my beard got even longer. Maybe I have a little bit of sleep stuck in my eye and it will stop at nothing to annoy me for the next hour by making my vision in one eye slightly blurry while the other one is perfectly normal, thus when I try to look with both of my eyes at the same time it generates a mind splitting headache that not even four Excedrin can numb. Maybe.

I'm still not in school. That sure as shit didn't change. I still work at Starbucks, which makes me smile until I realize that I actually have to be there in about twenty minutes and if I'm more than five minutes late my manager is likely to write me a corrective action, which will effectively crush any hope of being promoted within the next couple of months. The smile fades quickly.

Miraculously, somehow twenty minutes is the perfect amount of time to wake up, get dressed, do all the other morning stuff and make it to work relatively on time. This makes me kind of excited. I don't know why. It's kinda of like when you're trying to purchase something and you have exact change. It doesn't take much to please me, I think. However, I think almost anyone that knows me would swiftly disagree.

Work is a routine now. Hours pass and I don't think about anything. Maybe that's because of my medicine. Maybe it's because I am learning self-discipline, and not thinking about things that are completely irreverent to the task at hand. MAYBE, it's both. Who knows? Who cares? Not me. I don't think about those things, so why question it now? Problem solved. Kinda.

Work ends. I come home. Maybe I gather my hockey equipment and make the journey out to Farmington Hills to play drop in hockey, by myself. Maybe I bring my computer downstairs, connect to one of my neighbor's wireless routers (because my Dad has not embraced the wireless era yet) and play World of Warcraft, by myself. Maybe I sit in my room, at my desk and think about what a piece of shit fuck up I am, by myself.

It doesn't really matter. I get about the same thrill from all three of those activities. I guess thrill was the wrong word... Kill time. That's it. I kill the same amount of time doing those things. Eventually it's late at night. I have a cigarette. I try to fall asleep. Eventually it will happen. I just wait.

I don't let it bother me. There really isn't any reason to feel sorry for myself. Especially since I brought all of this on myself. But, then again, there really isn't ever a reason for me to ever feel sorry for myself. I'm slowing teaching myself this. I feel like once I master it I will be a different person. I will get a lot more done when I train my brain to only process what is important. If I has to make a rough estimate, I'd say I'm about 45% there. Give or take.

What's wrong with me? Why did I do this to myself. I could have gone to school. LAST YEAR. This year too. I could have played hockey in Cincinnati with Alex. I'm already into Western, Central, Oakland, and Arizona State. It's not like I am a failure. It's not like I'm not smart enough. It's not like that. What is it?

Travis is in Vermont, playing prep school hockey. Making steps towards furthering his education, perfecting his skills in hockey, and beginning his career. Hell, probably 90% of the kids I went to school with in high school continued on. Whether or not all of them are succeeding is a completely different scenario. That doesn't matter. They moved on. They left. They made an executive decision for themselves that they felt was the next step in their lives. That's big. That's REAL big. That's better than me.

I did my fair share of facebook creeping in my downtime today. Old friends of mine seem happy. Friends I still have seem happy in different places. One of my good friends from grade school is in Western Michigan's School of Aviation. He's going to be a pilot. Fly commercial airliners? Be in the Air Force? My neighbor two doors down that I grew up with graduated from Brother Rice with a grade point average that was untouchable. Now he's a freshmen at Michigan, the college he knew he wanted to go to since we were 7 fucking years old. Another friend of mine from grade school is a sophomore at Michigan State. She plays for their women's lacrosse team. This is her sophomore SEASON too. She made the team as a freshman.

What the fuck have I done? What big decisions have I made.
Who have I even impacted? Impressed?

Maybe I impressed some of my friends this summer when I drank 12 beers, smoked an exorbitant amount of pot and still kicked ass in a few games of Team Slayer on Valhalla.

Yup. Maybe. Halo 3 is at the top of most people's lists when it comes to talent, raw skill, and overall difficulty.

You're all gonna shit bricks when I'm through.
Day by day, I'm finding out who this man really is inside me.
And when I discover everything, I'm going to win.
Win BIG. And not just at a stupid, fucking video game.

not to mention, you all make about 1/4 the salary of any other average major sport athlete.

Wed, 17 Sep 2008 21:58:33 GMT

Brian Rafalski, you are a fucking asshole. Let me tell you something right now. You're a professional athlete, a celebrity, you could even say. DON'T BE A FUCKING ASSHOLE TO PEOPLE THAT LOOK UP TO YOU FOR WHAT YOU'VE ACCOMPLISHED.

Chelios, you're getting better. But you're not there yet. Stop faking phone calls everytime you're in the store. Smile a little bit, for once.

Tomas Kopecky and Marian Hossa - Let me tell you, I am imressed. The way you engage in normal conversation and treat us Starbucks partners with respect every time you walk into the store is an exact replica of the relationship I have always imagined a professional athlete and his/her city should have.

Which means: a) Slavs are just nicer overall people and/or b) The rest of you should be embarrassed because the level of super stardom that Marian Hossa is on towers over
whatever level the rest of you are all on (except Kopecky of course).

I guess you can all breathe a massive sigh of relief though, because no matter what happens, none of you will ever be close to the colossal asshole-ism that Tim Allen practices.

Birmingham, Michigan is a fucking joke. It is not reality. And, as a quick footnote - Never, ever work at a coffee shop located in the heart of a ruthless, money-possessed city like Birmingham/Bloomfield Hills, Michigan.

I gotta get out of here.

Dan Cleary, where have you been?

Endless.

Tue, 09 Sep 2008 19:55:57 GMT

Oh.
Oh, oh, oh.

Now I'm feeling it. I got this. You're mine.
Pay attention.

I have a computer again. Expect frequent updates again.
Expect the unexpected.
Or, if you know me - Expect the expected.

Hold on tight.
See you soon.

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 00:10:29 GMT

First ever update from my cell phone. My computer is broken. Help me.

Random thought #472

If I wasn't brought up in a family that loved me, and taught me right from wrong, I would probably kill someone. A few people, maybe. I would probably be good at it too.

So thank God for my normal, loving Roman-Catholic upbringing! Amen.

Have a good day!!!

kick drum. breakdown. blast beat. new plans.

Mon, 19 May 2008 06:32:07 GMT

This is what I did when I was in high school. Late nights, hunting down music on Myspace, trying to relate to just one line, from one song. It would serve as a mental staple point for which to live the next day by. - I just feel like I'm too old for that now. I didn't just graduate from high school. That seems like eons ago now. What is this place? And why did Facebook kill Myspace? Work harder Tom. I hate you.

This isn't going to work, is it?

End Transmission.

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 20:07:02 GMT

I burn bridges like it's my job. But, I don't just burn them. I watch them disintegrate. I laugh while everything is engulfed in disaster. I crack smiles as supporting beams crumble to the ground. - And then, I pace back and forth frantically, wondering how on Earth I'm going to get to the other side.

Everybody wake up.
It's time to get down.

Why do you always kick me when I'm high?
Knock me down until we see eye to eye.

You know
I used
to
BE such
A
nice b
oy

Fri, 04 Apr 2008 18:19:57 GMT

I was a whiny bitch for a majority of this journal.
I'm sorry.

And when I refer to people not understanding, it's not because I'm better than you. It's because I'm crazier than you. I'm not cocky. I just don't understand most of the things I'm talking/thinking about.

So,

I'm sorry if I've offended anyone over the last 4 years, and 330+ posts on this damn thing. It was not my intention.

Officially UnReInvited.

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 22:24:46 GMT

This is mind-numbing.
This is utter bliss.
This is absolute peace.

This isn't real.

I am lost for words. Words don't mean a thing anyway. Yes they do. They change the outcome of lives. They are the rally point of friendships, relationships, pirate ships. Arrrrh.

Wrong direction.
...shifting...

I am nothing. I am a quark of a spec on an infinite time line. I mean nothing. I don't matter. However, what I do means everything. What I say means everything. What I think means nothing. How I feel means nothing.

So, summing up... Say and Do. Don't think and feel.

Just do it right. Discard this message. Discard this message.

Discard this message.

i'm really hungry. like, really hungry.

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 19:01:19 GMT

I am brilliance personified.
I am love magnified.
I am innovation, dignified.

When I laugh, the world cries. When I rejoice, the world sulks.

When I speak, the world will listen.

I will puppeteer the masses with the strings of the world. Cleverly crafted from countless words, combined and designed to buckle knees, break hearts, and give rise to rehabilitation.

I am.
I will be.

And on my right hand, another. And another, and another. We will rule at each other's sides until the dimensions of the throne room span the globe. Six billion gods. Hand in hand.

I am a man, but I am only a god of gods.