I'm kind of restless right now, which has little to do with the copious coffee drinking I've been doing today. I'm on a streak of making bad decisions-- today I bought a record and two nights ago I returned Lucy's phone call. These are two seemingly insignificant and not-necessarily-wrong things that are actually giant steps in the wrong direction (which, in this case, is backwards-- I should know better).
I still haven't told my dad about being vegan, which is another seemingly trivial detail. I know the reaction he'll have when I tell him and I'm not thrilled. He'll say something about the lifestyle being unhealthy, and maybe he'll feel the need to justify his dietary choices. I'll respond by telling him that there's plenty of protein and iron that doesn't come from meat, but he won't be convinced. So I'll ask him where he thinks animals get their vitamins and minerals and nutrients from, and he'll take this as an affront or a cheap shot and he'll sit there quietly, as if I've said something terribly offensive. And I could tell my brothers, but their retorts would be on par with racism-- irrational and invalid. John might understand, Hank probably wouldn't care but might make fun of me (which is to be expected), but Will would probably start some rant about PETA people being fucking nuts.
I'm pretty sick of dealing with people right now. It's not a good thing. Here's why:
when it becomes overbearing to explain my self to the people I like to hang out with, then I isolate myself. Aaron gave me a talking to about this because it's not fair to, y'know, casual friends. Well, not casual friends. Friends in general, I suppose. But is it my fault that I don't always want to go out drinking, and that my imagination is sorely deprived of input so I have no better ideas, so I assume that it's "go drinking with friends" versus "stay home and don't answer the phone"? So, when I perceive my only option to be "go to a bar," then I'm limited by two things: my desire to smoke, and the weight of my wallet. Currently, I have no desire to smoke (but that's a feeling I tend to ignore when I'm drinking, only to regret it for the following three days that it takes me to recover my head back onto my shoulders), and I don't exactly have money to burn on $5 beers.
So that's how it happens, and I stop responding to people instead of explaining them, because in my head I decide that they'll be irritated by my excuse instead of understanding and deciding that it'd be fun to do something else.
I suppose the answer is to stop making decisions for other people and let them decide for themselves whether or not they want to put up with me.
Here's a little to-do list before I move to Denver (more of a list of events): Murder By Death at Wicker Park Fest, William Elliott Whitmore at Lincoln Hall, Alkaline Trio at the Metro, Bouncing Souls/The Falcon at Reggie's, Against Me! at the Metro, Ted Leo at Millennium Park. Sounds like a good summer, huh? And a perfect send-off. Oh, not to mention Boston on August 6th, and maybe New York on July 4th.
Speaking of Denver, I have to tell Jimi and Liam. That'll be awkward. I mean, I really don't see this band going anywhere. Each practice has gotten progressively more boring and the quality of the music is... well, it's also boring. And I'm losing interest in punk rock because it's just entertainment. I still listen to the Cobra Skulls entire discography every single day as I bike around or while I'm on the train, and the Broadways are still fun-- these bands are cool because there's a message more than Less Than Jake's "I wanna sit back, just smoke cigarettes, be the one with the loudest mouth, and be the most close-minded," or Alkaline Trio's "you said tonight was a wonderful night to die." But listening to bands like the Cobra Skulls and the Broadways is even more disheartening. I mean, these bands have a real message, whether it's "faith is a cult" or "see this park? 3,000 years ago the entire world was like this and more," but these messages are in punk rock songs that won't get exposure outside of a very small group of kids that already believe these thoughts and won't be illuminated by a song by a band that's mercilessly beating the dead horse of "punk rock."
So here's how it is: "punk" isn't dead, and it never will be, because it serves the purpose of being a good starting point for teenagers to think they're on to something huge. And these kids will question society and maybe start calling people on their bullshit, all the while becoming more jaded to... life. And hopefully this will be a stepping stone and their minds will forever be open as they go off into the world to get "real" jobs, or maybe they'll bring their "punk" sentiments into the mainstream, like The Clash or, less notably but more recently, the Gaslight Anthem, or, as is usually the case, maybe they'll wear their old punk rock t-shirts when their socially acceptable clothes are in the washer or dryer, and "punk rock" will have been something they foolishly believed in during their high school days. And the latter group will have the feeling that they filled their quota for subversive thoughts back when they were young and, therefore, people who stuck with those mindsets are to be looked at with condescending eyes-- as inferiors who aren't as mature.
If it's still really hot overnight then I may go see the sunrise. I'll probably go home and eat some food, then read, then take a nap. It might be tough to wake up, though, so I might be better off staying awake until 6 or so. Oh, and my bike needs fixing. I think the brakes came undone, which was mildly terrifying. Good thing I wasn't on a major street.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
While You Wait For The Others
My mind was just about made up through the course of events two evenings ago. Here's how it unraveled:
Band practice was mediocre. It's always fun rocking out, I guess, but Jimi's reluctance to stray from the over-done guidelines of "punk rock" is restricting and kind of irritating. Driving is also irritating, which was a requirement to make sure Liam and Jimi could make it. They also necessitated rides home. Whatever, that's what I signed up for.
I wasn't able to accomplish one thing on my list that night, which was to get a slice or two of vegan pizza from Ian's. I decided it was more important to hurry home and eat my leftover pasta before Woj and Matsuo arrived. So that's what I did. And I couldn't decide whether or not I'd let myself smoke any cigarettes that night because sometimes my spine is weak.
The Kevins arrived, then Sam and Trevor came over, and we all drank and smoked cigarettes and we went to the Oasis for some reason. And the whole night had an undertone of being mediocre. And it also had an I've-done-this-before feel to it, which is okay when there's variation, but variation was another thing missing. I've read books before, but the one I finished last night was unlike most of the other books I've ever read and it was very entertaining.
Waking up with a padlock on my lungs is a bad way to re-enter waking life. So my mind was made: I'm running away. I'm running away to close the book on nights I've already lived and don't need re-examining. I'm running away from the pressure to smoke when all my friends are smoking that sometimes I can deal with but sometimes I can't.
More importantly is where I'm running to. I'm running to a place with a lower crime rate and more sunny days; a place where the only person I know is my sister, and she doesn't mind my back-and-forth mindsets. I'm looking forward to driving out of the city to sit on a mountain and hear nothing. I want to sit in Tattered Cover for hours on end and know that no one will recognize me. I want to write and listen to music and not feel that anybody's peaking over my shoulder. I want to allow my convictions to manifest themselves in my daily life instead of coming and going with the availabilities of my friends.
Maybe I'll go out there and nothing will change, except that I'll suddenly be very, very lonely.
I wonder who I'll miss. My family, probably, but I probably won't miss drinking or self-loathing. I won't miss bowling, but I'll miss bowling with John. I'll miss having the option to go out late with people I know, though I don't really take advantage of that now.
Huh. So something's that's come to light in the past few days is this: lots of things that I assumed should go without saying clearly do not.
Band practice was mediocre. It's always fun rocking out, I guess, but Jimi's reluctance to stray from the over-done guidelines of "punk rock" is restricting and kind of irritating. Driving is also irritating, which was a requirement to make sure Liam and Jimi could make it. They also necessitated rides home. Whatever, that's what I signed up for.
I wasn't able to accomplish one thing on my list that night, which was to get a slice or two of vegan pizza from Ian's. I decided it was more important to hurry home and eat my leftover pasta before Woj and Matsuo arrived. So that's what I did. And I couldn't decide whether or not I'd let myself smoke any cigarettes that night because sometimes my spine is weak.
The Kevins arrived, then Sam and Trevor came over, and we all drank and smoked cigarettes and we went to the Oasis for some reason. And the whole night had an undertone of being mediocre. And it also had an I've-done-this-before feel to it, which is okay when there's variation, but variation was another thing missing. I've read books before, but the one I finished last night was unlike most of the other books I've ever read and it was very entertaining.
Waking up with a padlock on my lungs is a bad way to re-enter waking life. So my mind was made: I'm running away. I'm running away to close the book on nights I've already lived and don't need re-examining. I'm running away from the pressure to smoke when all my friends are smoking that sometimes I can deal with but sometimes I can't.
More importantly is where I'm running to. I'm running to a place with a lower crime rate and more sunny days; a place where the only person I know is my sister, and she doesn't mind my back-and-forth mindsets. I'm looking forward to driving out of the city to sit on a mountain and hear nothing. I want to sit in Tattered Cover for hours on end and know that no one will recognize me. I want to write and listen to music and not feel that anybody's peaking over my shoulder. I want to allow my convictions to manifest themselves in my daily life instead of coming and going with the availabilities of my friends.
Maybe I'll go out there and nothing will change, except that I'll suddenly be very, very lonely.
I wonder who I'll miss. My family, probably, but I probably won't miss drinking or self-loathing. I won't miss bowling, but I'll miss bowling with John. I'll miss having the option to go out late with people I know, though I don't really take advantage of that now.
Huh. So something's that's come to light in the past few days is this: lots of things that I assumed should go without saying clearly do not.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Said All These Chicks, They Smoke These Things
Everyone has an agenda, and that agenda is their own welfare and well-being. That's cool and understandable, but it should be known that there is never an exception-- not the guy that was trying to scam me into paying for White Sox tickets 20 minutes ago, not the crackhead who begs for change or robs some lonely pedestrian, and not the noble priest who always finds an angle to perceive the object of his attention by looking down his nose.
I don't have a steady stream of thought right now. I'm really just trying to process everything that I have ever learned or experienced. It's tough, huh, and I'm only 23 years in.
I'm currently reading a book and it's very enlightening. It stresses the importance of remembering that the human race didn't simply pop up 10,00 years ago and begin building cities and maintaining farms because that was the natural inclination of the species. Rather, the work of patient learning and adapting throughout the previous 2 or 3 million years culminated in a particular lifestyle. But "culminated" is the wrong word, entirely, as the agriculture that spread rampantly 10,000 years ago did so because it was aggressive, not because it was "destined" to be successful. Essentially, this... I don't remember the word that was used. Here's how it basically breaks down: 10,000 years ago there were tons of tribes all over the world, each with their own customs and rituals that had been tested and tweaked through time. Also unique to each tribe was their approach to eating. Often, groups hunted and foraged and maybe had a little garden for tomatoes and chives or something. If food was waning, the group moved on. That said, there were no famines because people didn't insist on staying in a particular place.
Then came along a great idea, coined "totalitarian agriculture," which spread in a kind of forceful way. Well, maybe not forceful. Tricky, though. See, some people would settle down and guard their little farms. This probably spread because it became a hassle to try to forage amongst dirty looks from some farmer dude. I don't know. But it spread relatively quickly (as far as the ol' "grand scheme of things" is concerned) and, as can be seen today, only isolated peoples tucked just past the reach of modern man have been allowed to continue living in accordance to the laws of nature. As I have implicitly stated, the current form of agriculture lives in opposition to the way nature functions and, thus, will be killed off by Darwinism, applied. For instance, people like robbing cows of their milk before they eat them. That's cool, so foxes and wolves also like eating cows. It isn't desirable for cows to be in such high demand outside of the human race, so the easiest solution is to kill off potential predators. This is, in essence, "playing god."
So that's what's on my mind. I think I'll read Into the Wild, but I already have a good idea of how it ends.
Oh, and I met Erik Larson the other night. It's funny meeting someone your mind idolizes (to an extent) only to be reassured that they're merely flesh and bones and blood and hair. He seemed genuine (which is irrelevant) and I'm excited to read his new book.
I don't have a steady stream of thought right now. I'm really just trying to process everything that I have ever learned or experienced. It's tough, huh, and I'm only 23 years in.
I'm currently reading a book and it's very enlightening. It stresses the importance of remembering that the human race didn't simply pop up 10,00 years ago and begin building cities and maintaining farms because that was the natural inclination of the species. Rather, the work of patient learning and adapting throughout the previous 2 or 3 million years culminated in a particular lifestyle. But "culminated" is the wrong word, entirely, as the agriculture that spread rampantly 10,000 years ago did so because it was aggressive, not because it was "destined" to be successful. Essentially, this... I don't remember the word that was used. Here's how it basically breaks down: 10,000 years ago there were tons of tribes all over the world, each with their own customs and rituals that had been tested and tweaked through time. Also unique to each tribe was their approach to eating. Often, groups hunted and foraged and maybe had a little garden for tomatoes and chives or something. If food was waning, the group moved on. That said, there were no famines because people didn't insist on staying in a particular place.
Then came along a great idea, coined "totalitarian agriculture," which spread in a kind of forceful way. Well, maybe not forceful. Tricky, though. See, some people would settle down and guard their little farms. This probably spread because it became a hassle to try to forage amongst dirty looks from some farmer dude. I don't know. But it spread relatively quickly (as far as the ol' "grand scheme of things" is concerned) and, as can be seen today, only isolated peoples tucked just past the reach of modern man have been allowed to continue living in accordance to the laws of nature. As I have implicitly stated, the current form of agriculture lives in opposition to the way nature functions and, thus, will be killed off by Darwinism, applied. For instance, people like robbing cows of their milk before they eat them. That's cool, so foxes and wolves also like eating cows. It isn't desirable for cows to be in such high demand outside of the human race, so the easiest solution is to kill off potential predators. This is, in essence, "playing god."
So that's what's on my mind. I think I'll read Into the Wild, but I already have a good idea of how it ends.
Oh, and I met Erik Larson the other night. It's funny meeting someone your mind idolizes (to an extent) only to be reassured that they're merely flesh and bones and blood and hair. He seemed genuine (which is irrelevant) and I'm excited to read his new book.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
The Big Three Killed My Baby
Oh, I forgot! The point of mentioning my previous encounter with Lucy was, well... ha! So, it's been said that one's sense of smell is one's strongest of their five. Lucy smelled like lots and lots of perfume. I recognized the smell, which was expensive and kind of nice, but it was almost overwhelming. I mean, personally, I like to keep things subtle. Lucy doesn't.
Anyways, this struck me as worth mentioning because it reminded me of when I was 16 or 17 and trying to impress this one girl-- the more Old Spice spray I used, the better off everything seemed. I was worried one day, though, because I had to wait for her 8th or 9th period class to finish. Basically, I had 50 minutes to myself. As had never been the case before or after this particular afternoon, I decided to play basketball with a few kids I vaguely knew. I held my own, I think, but I also had a good sweat going. It was embarrassing. So, like any normal teenager would do, I doubled the dose of Old Spice spray. It could've burned my eyes out, but she at least pretended to be impressed.
Huh.
Anyways, this struck me as worth mentioning because it reminded me of when I was 16 or 17 and trying to impress this one girl-- the more Old Spice spray I used, the better off everything seemed. I was worried one day, though, because I had to wait for her 8th or 9th period class to finish. Basically, I had 50 minutes to myself. As had never been the case before or after this particular afternoon, I decided to play basketball with a few kids I vaguely knew. I held my own, I think, but I also had a good sweat going. It was embarrassing. So, like any normal teenager would do, I doubled the dose of Old Spice spray. It could've burned my eyes out, but she at least pretended to be impressed.
Huh.
Those Who Stayed
This vegan thing is still going strong, and Thursday is Vegan Pizza Day at Ian's. Oh, and now Stella has a few vegan pastries, which is nice.
Yesterday, hm... there was a beautiful bike ride to Lincoln Park, during which I passed Wrigley Field and thought, "Huh, what a gorgeous day for a baseball game." When I got to Toby's house, Mrs. Lerone offered me a pair of tickets to that evening's game (versus the New York Metropolitans), so I took 'em. And it sucked. The wind wrapped around the bend of the stadium and was funneled directly into my mid-section. I was wet and cold and we left in the 5th inning when the wind was too much to bear.
After picking up my bag from my mom's apartment and my bike from under the train tracks, i headed for the platform. It felt like my bag had become snagged on something, but when I turned it was Lucy. We talked for a minute before she caught the brown line and I thought to myself, "How did I ever go back to a past girlfriend after the initial break-up?" I still don't quite get it. I mean, if something doesn't work, why try again? At such a young age, and with something like 7 billion people on this planet. And it's safe to assume that nearly half are female, though any percentage over 25 still allows pretty good odds. This is all beside the point, though, as the thought of a girlfriend is nearly nauseating at this point in my life. Here's why:
When I was with Lucy, I was the best boyfriend I could possibly be... to a point. See, I was nearly obsessive about being a good boyfriend: I took her out on dates, called her regularly to show that I cared, dropped what I was doing when she needed a ride home from babysitting... you know, the little things and the big things. One thing I couldn't do, though, was talk about her to other people. Well, except for the problems. But that's not my point. What I couldn't do was sit in a conversation and say something like, "Yeah, my girlfriend and I like to... (I don't know... uh, go shopping for records together?)" I just couldn't do it. And other people in seemingly healthy relationships do involve their significant other in conversation with ease. So that could mean various things. Maybe I didn't appreciate/respect Lucy, or maybe I took her presence as an affront to my own ego. I wasn't even comfortable telling people I had a girlfriend, though I had no intention of being unfaithful. My immediate conclusion was that I am a flawed human being in regard to intimate relationships, but I think it's safer to say that Lucy was not the right person for that part of my life. Whether or not there is one is a tough question, but no amount of conjecture will change the fact that only empirical evidence can supply a sufficient answer.
I tried to get coffee before the Cubs game last night but Lincoln Perk was closed. I was taken aback, as a side effect of being in a mild stupor, I kept trying to open the dead-bolted door. A lady who seemed to be hovering around the age of 50, with gray hair and a Trader Joe's bag, was nearly as surprised as I was. After a minute of answering the conundrum with a defeated, "Well, I guess it's closed," she asked me about the Chicago flag on my shirt. "Chicago Police?"
"Nah, just Chicago. It's a band... from Chicago."
"Japan?"
"No, no, a band..."
Little did I know, this "miscommunication" was merely a segue for her to begin telling me about various Japanese techniques of meditation. I wasn't particularly annoyed, and I still needed to think of a non-Starbucks option for coffee, so I let her impart some of her knowledge to me. Throughout the conversation, she casually mentioned that my eyes made me look Italian, and that there's something "deep" about me-- neither of which I sincerely understood, especially coming from a first impression of mine (well, I guess a first impression is as strong as any for a physical feature).
Anyhow, work is nearly done and I have a full day ahead of me, including Toby, pizza, band practice, and possibly a few beers before I head home.
Yesterday, hm... there was a beautiful bike ride to Lincoln Park, during which I passed Wrigley Field and thought, "Huh, what a gorgeous day for a baseball game." When I got to Toby's house, Mrs. Lerone offered me a pair of tickets to that evening's game (versus the New York Metropolitans), so I took 'em. And it sucked. The wind wrapped around the bend of the stadium and was funneled directly into my mid-section. I was wet and cold and we left in the 5th inning when the wind was too much to bear.
After picking up my bag from my mom's apartment and my bike from under the train tracks, i headed for the platform. It felt like my bag had become snagged on something, but when I turned it was Lucy. We talked for a minute before she caught the brown line and I thought to myself, "How did I ever go back to a past girlfriend after the initial break-up?" I still don't quite get it. I mean, if something doesn't work, why try again? At such a young age, and with something like 7 billion people on this planet. And it's safe to assume that nearly half are female, though any percentage over 25 still allows pretty good odds. This is all beside the point, though, as the thought of a girlfriend is nearly nauseating at this point in my life. Here's why:
When I was with Lucy, I was the best boyfriend I could possibly be... to a point. See, I was nearly obsessive about being a good boyfriend: I took her out on dates, called her regularly to show that I cared, dropped what I was doing when she needed a ride home from babysitting... you know, the little things and the big things. One thing I couldn't do, though, was talk about her to other people. Well, except for the problems. But that's not my point. What I couldn't do was sit in a conversation and say something like, "Yeah, my girlfriend and I like to... (I don't know... uh, go shopping for records together?)" I just couldn't do it. And other people in seemingly healthy relationships do involve their significant other in conversation with ease. So that could mean various things. Maybe I didn't appreciate/respect Lucy, or maybe I took her presence as an affront to my own ego. I wasn't even comfortable telling people I had a girlfriend, though I had no intention of being unfaithful. My immediate conclusion was that I am a flawed human being in regard to intimate relationships, but I think it's safer to say that Lucy was not the right person for that part of my life. Whether or not there is one is a tough question, but no amount of conjecture will change the fact that only empirical evidence can supply a sufficient answer.
I tried to get coffee before the Cubs game last night but Lincoln Perk was closed. I was taken aback, as a side effect of being in a mild stupor, I kept trying to open the dead-bolted door. A lady who seemed to be hovering around the age of 50, with gray hair and a Trader Joe's bag, was nearly as surprised as I was. After a minute of answering the conundrum with a defeated, "Well, I guess it's closed," she asked me about the Chicago flag on my shirt. "Chicago Police?"
"Nah, just Chicago. It's a band... from Chicago."
"Japan?"
"No, no, a band..."
Little did I know, this "miscommunication" was merely a segue for her to begin telling me about various Japanese techniques of meditation. I wasn't particularly annoyed, and I still needed to think of a non-Starbucks option for coffee, so I let her impart some of her knowledge to me. Throughout the conversation, she casually mentioned that my eyes made me look Italian, and that there's something "deep" about me-- neither of which I sincerely understood, especially coming from a first impression of mine (well, I guess a first impression is as strong as any for a physical feature).
Anyhow, work is nearly done and I have a full day ahead of me, including Toby, pizza, band practice, and possibly a few beers before I head home.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Maybe While I'm Not Together I Can Feel Like I'm Not Alone
You learn something new every day, I've heard. True to that sentiment, today I learned that my friend AJ is really into the idea of Intelligent Design. I'm still speechless. My initial reaction was, "you, too!?" until I realized that he's the first living, breathing person I've ever met (over the age of 7) who seriously considers the possibility that humans and dinosaurs cohabited this planet. Wow. I mean, a conservative Republican judge, appointed by George W. Bush to occupy a seat on the bench of the Supreme Court, ruled that Intelligent Design is not science and, thus, not worthy or appropriate of being taught to grade school or high school students. I wish this was all fresh in my mind so I could make a coherent retort that would forever damn his stupid, half-thought-out version of creationism, but instead I just rambled off random lines about the iron catastrophe 5 billions years ago, and dinosaurs going extinct about 65 million years ago, and homo habilis or whomever making an appearance about 3 million years ago. This minor occurrence expanded my concept of the world immensely, just as it was expanded by experiencing the other side of the coin on the issue of eating animals.
Cheap segue, huh? So about this whole dietary change... some weird stuff's going on. Well, not really. Oh, I should mention that I kind of cheated last night, but it was out of courtesy. Aaron made a bunch of vegetarian/vegan food but he cooked one dish in milk. I ate and enjoyed it but told him it wouldn't happen again.
Anyhow, strange things that are actually quite normal. At work I was reading some guy's blog. The writer's a vegan and this particular entry was about why he made that decision and how he felt before, during and after. One thing he particularly mentioned was that he didn't experience any back pain. That's a strange thing to mention, first of all, and second of all, my back was pretty fucking sore the other night. Oddly sore, more so than I ever remember it being. I attributed the aching to having worn the bag throughout the entire RJD2 show, but that doesn't quite add up as the only heavy thing in there was my Nalgene bottle, which steadily got lighter as the night wore on. My back feels fine now but I'll have to look into that.
Secondly, the writer mentioned losing 7 pounds in the first 5 days. That's cool. I'm not looking to lose weight, but whatever. He went on to mention that his, uh, dump-cycle was irrationally out of proportion to his food intake. Me too! See, I've been eating a ton of carrots and berries, and throughout each day I'll have a banana and a bowl of cereal and a p,b, & j and a Clif bar, but nothing that necessitates three or four quality dumps in one day. Holy hell. Anyways, according to this dude, it's the accumulation of a lifetime of "dairy clog." Pretty nasty stuff, but it's nice to not be carrying that around anymore. I suppose that's why I feel more light and more nimble and generally healthier.
What else?
I'm forcing myself to care. Well, maybe not forcing. I've come, through a combination of intellect and emotion, come to decide that not caring is seriously detrimental to my health. Here's a few things that facilitate not caring:
-cigarettes
-alcohol
-weed
-conforming to the tastes of friends
-not voicing how I feel.
But all of these go back to something very liberating, which is why I started doing them in the first place: they all contribute a good, healthy dose of "fuck it" into my diet. I still need that, though, so I don't know how I'll find a balance if I haven't found one yet. That "fuck it" is a great safety net and a strange form of motivation. It's the reason I'm able to tolerate unclogging Stella's toilet, or dealing with people I don't care about. But too much of it leads me to a bar night after night, or out the door for a smoke every hour or so. I'll figure it out.
I'm in a good place right now. Almost everything I'm doing is an investment in myself. See, I've been reading a lot lately because I've found some good books on my shelf. And I'm not wrapped up in the idea of some girl being the answer to all my problems (like I was last week. My emotions overrule my mind, sometimes). And it's good to be conscious of what I'm putting into my body, and what I'm nodding and laughing with, and what I'm agreeing to, because everything I do is a vote and I don't want to scuff up my record with stupid, regrettable things. I don't want to look back and say, "I knew better. I knew I knew better. Was I really feeling to hopeless?" That's the worst kind of pathetic, I think.
Cheap segue, huh? So about this whole dietary change... some weird stuff's going on. Well, not really. Oh, I should mention that I kind of cheated last night, but it was out of courtesy. Aaron made a bunch of vegetarian/vegan food but he cooked one dish in milk. I ate and enjoyed it but told him it wouldn't happen again.
Anyhow, strange things that are actually quite normal. At work I was reading some guy's blog. The writer's a vegan and this particular entry was about why he made that decision and how he felt before, during and after. One thing he particularly mentioned was that he didn't experience any back pain. That's a strange thing to mention, first of all, and second of all, my back was pretty fucking sore the other night. Oddly sore, more so than I ever remember it being. I attributed the aching to having worn the bag throughout the entire RJD2 show, but that doesn't quite add up as the only heavy thing in there was my Nalgene bottle, which steadily got lighter as the night wore on. My back feels fine now but I'll have to look into that.
Secondly, the writer mentioned losing 7 pounds in the first 5 days. That's cool. I'm not looking to lose weight, but whatever. He went on to mention that his, uh, dump-cycle was irrationally out of proportion to his food intake. Me too! See, I've been eating a ton of carrots and berries, and throughout each day I'll have a banana and a bowl of cereal and a p,b, & j and a Clif bar, but nothing that necessitates three or four quality dumps in one day. Holy hell. Anyways, according to this dude, it's the accumulation of a lifetime of "dairy clog." Pretty nasty stuff, but it's nice to not be carrying that around anymore. I suppose that's why I feel more light and more nimble and generally healthier.
What else?
I'm forcing myself to care. Well, maybe not forcing. I've come, through a combination of intellect and emotion, come to decide that not caring is seriously detrimental to my health. Here's a few things that facilitate not caring:
-cigarettes
-alcohol
-weed
-conforming to the tastes of friends
-not voicing how I feel.
But all of these go back to something very liberating, which is why I started doing them in the first place: they all contribute a good, healthy dose of "fuck it" into my diet. I still need that, though, so I don't know how I'll find a balance if I haven't found one yet. That "fuck it" is a great safety net and a strange form of motivation. It's the reason I'm able to tolerate unclogging Stella's toilet, or dealing with people I don't care about. But too much of it leads me to a bar night after night, or out the door for a smoke every hour or so. I'll figure it out.
I'm in a good place right now. Almost everything I'm doing is an investment in myself. See, I've been reading a lot lately because I've found some good books on my shelf. And I'm not wrapped up in the idea of some girl being the answer to all my problems (like I was last week. My emotions overrule my mind, sometimes). And it's good to be conscious of what I'm putting into my body, and what I'm nodding and laughing with, and what I'm agreeing to, because everything I do is a vote and I don't want to scuff up my record with stupid, regrettable things. I don't want to look back and say, "I knew better. I knew I knew better. Was I really feeling to hopeless?" That's the worst kind of pathetic, I think.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Faith is a Cobra
Jesus is supposed to arrive today, I heard. Or maybe it's the rapture. I'm not sure. Both? More than anything, people speaking of the end of the world are amusing.
This world is ridiculous, to say the least. With convenience comes laziness, which is followed closely by boredom and apathy. People take the easy way out, every time. This is a fairly new thing, I think, as both my parents and my grandparents are familiar with the concept of reward after hard work. Or hard work with no obvious reward. So this society has spoiled its inhabitants, it seems, and the only cure is for each individual to take the initiative and start making some mental connections that force themselves to care.
Or maybe it's just as well that some kind of armageddon is headed our way. Sure, it could be of biblical proportions, "Fire and brimstone coming down from the sky! Rivers and seas boiling! Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes... The dead rising from the grave! Human sacrifice! Dogs and cats living together! Mass hysteria!" but it's not like the human race isn't stubbornly daring the Earth to end. And because this planet is about as conscious as gravity, it's just going to react without regard for fate or fairness, and without sympathy or restraint.
I really don't care. I mean, I do. I care a lot. The first sentence in this paragraph is a complete lie. What I meant is this: I care tremendously. I try to do as much good as possible, even in hopeless situations. I don't believe morals should be compromised because of circumstance, though occasionally I'm guilty, too. I smoke cigarettes and drive my car. But (and this is a big butt)! I also believe in justice and, y'know, reaping what one sows. We sowed ourselves a pretty ugly outfit out of the only known habitable planet in the entire universe. Sucks, doughnut? So, as happens to every body that's endured terrible conditions, parts will begin to fail. The ozone will go, and the ice caps will melt prematurely (would they ever have, otherwise?), and a pandemic will find its way into the human body. And these are all pretty much guaranteed by every credible expert. There's a museum in Kentucky that may disagree, and some politicians, too, and their followers may adopt their stance, but those people are probably very wrong (unless I'm the one who's been misled).
This whole thing is hilarious and ridiculous but it's also a big downer. Those people holding those signs are looked at in the same light as people with signs proclaiming truths. Anyone who strays from the norm is systematically mocked and degraded, which may be a useful tactic to weed out the weak activists, but is it necessary? I mean, I don't think it's a tactic in the sense that it's being deployed consciously by society as a collective, but more of a tactic in hindsight.
Whatever the point that I'm trying to make, everything I've ever thought boils down to hypocrisy. Once again, I'm guilty as well. And it's sickening. The one that gets me every time is the virtues held but not practiced by people of various faiths. People are all a bunch of lazy assholes who abandon morality when there's too much or too little to do.
This world is ridiculous, to say the least. With convenience comes laziness, which is followed closely by boredom and apathy. People take the easy way out, every time. This is a fairly new thing, I think, as both my parents and my grandparents are familiar with the concept of reward after hard work. Or hard work with no obvious reward. So this society has spoiled its inhabitants, it seems, and the only cure is for each individual to take the initiative and start making some mental connections that force themselves to care.
Or maybe it's just as well that some kind of armageddon is headed our way. Sure, it could be of biblical proportions, "Fire and brimstone coming down from the sky! Rivers and seas boiling! Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes... The dead rising from the grave! Human sacrifice! Dogs and cats living together! Mass hysteria!" but it's not like the human race isn't stubbornly daring the Earth to end. And because this planet is about as conscious as gravity, it's just going to react without regard for fate or fairness, and without sympathy or restraint.
I really don't care. I mean, I do. I care a lot. The first sentence in this paragraph is a complete lie. What I meant is this: I care tremendously. I try to do as much good as possible, even in hopeless situations. I don't believe morals should be compromised because of circumstance, though occasionally I'm guilty, too. I smoke cigarettes and drive my car. But (and this is a big butt)! I also believe in justice and, y'know, reaping what one sows. We sowed ourselves a pretty ugly outfit out of the only known habitable planet in the entire universe. Sucks, doughnut? So, as happens to every body that's endured terrible conditions, parts will begin to fail. The ozone will go, and the ice caps will melt prematurely (would they ever have, otherwise?), and a pandemic will find its way into the human body. And these are all pretty much guaranteed by every credible expert. There's a museum in Kentucky that may disagree, and some politicians, too, and their followers may adopt their stance, but those people are probably very wrong (unless I'm the one who's been misled).
This whole thing is hilarious and ridiculous but it's also a big downer. Those people holding those signs are looked at in the same light as people with signs proclaiming truths. Anyone who strays from the norm is systematically mocked and degraded, which may be a useful tactic to weed out the weak activists, but is it necessary? I mean, I don't think it's a tactic in the sense that it's being deployed consciously by society as a collective, but more of a tactic in hindsight.
Whatever the point that I'm trying to make, everything I've ever thought boils down to hypocrisy. Once again, I'm guilty as well. And it's sickening. The one that gets me every time is the virtues held but not practiced by people of various faiths. People are all a bunch of lazy assholes who abandon morality when there's too much or too little to do.
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