just a short one today

I really need to learn how to play guitar or piano or something - to learn how to read music. The reason for this is that sometimes I write things that I feel would sound really good in song form. Someone quick - teach me.

what am I without the bruises?

I'm kind of tired so I don't know that I'll actually get to finishing my thoughts but they're somewhat related to that last post. All of these incredibly disconnected characters who I seem to be attracted to - not sexually - just somehow, chemically, intellectually....in some way. Dexter Morgan, Alpha (from Dollhouse), Chigurh, Patrick Bateman. There is something inherently satisfying about the fact that they can separate human emotion from the daily grind of living. Granted they obviously have their own issues but there is something in them that lets them function at a higher efficiency than most of us, not being weighed down by several different types of emotion. And it's not that I want this - but I can relate to switching to some sort of autopilot mode and doing things systematically as if one were programmed. Having that separation is important to a person like me, because I am prone to near life threateningly dangerous levels of entwinement that leave me - at the end - in a place I do not like.

So I suppose what I like about these characters is the fact that they do not have to (or at least have not) experience that crushing defeat, that absolutely mind bending-ly tight vice like grip on the sternum that comes when you're out of comfortable depth.

One of the things I say or have said is that as of late I feel like Jon Osterman (y'know he asploded in the Watchmen and became naked blue guy*). Or that is to say I did. After that period in my life I felt as if my theoretical projected self had shattered. The me I knew was gone and suddenly who was left? Being prized apart from something...someone. Well, it was as if two trees had grown into each other and now somebody was tearing them apart, sawing them apart really - and it left gaping holes. And although it hurt like hell at the time we knew (I knew) that we were removing rotting pieces, pieces that were damaging a healthy organism so to speak. I just needed time to figure it out, and I pieced myself back together. I existed again, I exist. Obviously I did not do this alone: cough Karen cough.

So I suppose why I like these characters is because they have this divide. What they don't have is both sides of the spectrum. This is what I'm aiming for, full spectrum vision, hehehe. Getting entangled like that (which I have a propensity for doing) again....scares the living hell out of me. And at the same time it doesn't. Because a lot of what I took away from everything, a lot of the living and thinking I did - made me realize at least for the foreseeable future I know what I want, and I know myself a lot better.

Anyhow - during the end times I remember writing an email....and the more I think about it the more I know that even under all that stupid bullshit I knew what I wanted back then anyway. I may be one of the luckier people in life who is unapologetically optimistic about their future. I just know that I will lead the goddamn life I want to, when I want things I get them. Always. (Within reason) Some people aren't like this and feel they have to compensate - I do this in other areas of my life. But for me the most important thing at that point in my life -which remains the same now - is having someone to be around with me to partake in all of it. Does that make sense?

And that makes me a bit of a sap. But I grew up with a very dysfunctional family post immigration (true story), and the idea that my friends are the family I'm building is what matters to me most in life.

And in a way, perhaps he's right, perhaps my thorn is slowly working its way out.

*don't hurt me Alan Moore, I love you

why am I attracted to the emotionlessness in Dexter Morgan?

Sometimes I fail to see the beauty in this. I don't like it. Half the time I don't know what I'm doing but it doesn't matter. Why am I still awake? Why is your voice always like coming home...? What am I even talking about, I don't know. This is the time of night when everything jumbles into a big ball of intense detestation, defensiveness and resentment. My chemistry is altered but everything's manifesting itself physically. It feels like I can start over at the beginning of every week but it never happens. I just want it to be over already, to fast forward this part of life but it's not happening.

"So what's she like? Other than inferior?" he asked, knowing it would make me feel impossibly contra sub human.

You know we haven't spoken in... oh I don't know how long. Last time was when I was going to see Kaell at Manic. I didn't even want to say Merry Christmas. Our cold silence is atrophy-ing anything that ever existed in our collective spheres. I don't mind. I finally understand that my happiness is not tied up in your unhappiness. Hmmm - being petty will be missed. There's a really nice kind of smugness in it. I said it was strange, how we are strangers now, but how else could anything like this ever work? It couldn't, could it? Will I see you in the credits one day? I have to actively think about thinking about you. Will you fade? Be a distant half obscured memory at the end of my life? Will you register - in my mind - as I lay on my deathbed?

This human's existence is no longer necessary for the furthering of my goals. Struck off the chart, dropped off the line, discarded like a paltry pawn in a fucked up chess game.

And so I march to Harper Lewis, having regained my stride, the cascade of drums and bass swirling around me as my coat is flapping - hair tangling in the wind. A cinematic type of life. Sarcastically thinking "my sweet Clementine".

the ole pigskin

I said I would get around to this earlier and making my intent known to someone in particular kind of lit a fire under my ass in getting it done. It's kind of crazy when an idea strikes you in the middle of a subway ride amidst reading a book about pop culture, but hey.....ideas, you can't stop them. I'm just grateful I had a pen and my Moleskine. How's that for pretentious namedropping. Hells to the yi-zzo.

Anyhow - football. I've never been an overt fan because I've always thought it looked incredibly boring and the rules were too crazy or complex, or something - essentially not worth my time. It appears, more so now than ever, that this is a gross fallacy. As of late I've been more and more intrigued by this game. Why you ask? Well - I've been reading Chuck Klosterman's "Eating the Dinosaur" for one - and a significant portion of it is devoted to football and the strategy thereof. The history of how passing became legal thanks in part to Roosevelt (p 129), and how at some point in the lifespan of the game it "a few guys..." (albeit moronically) "even punted barefoot" (p 143). How crazy is that? But whatever, Klosterman's passion and knowledge about this sport makes it sound incredibly complex and interesting. Not that it isn't, I just can't say because I don't have enough first-hand knowledge and experience with it.

But here's why, especially for me, he makes it sound so damn interesting: He is one of the men in my life that is really into football. The other two that I know are a) my friend and former coworker Sage who is aptly named, and b) a crazy intellectually comical behemoth of a man who is an NYC dweller. Having been inundated with football talk from both of these men, one through hilarious outtakes at work (listening to him talk, learning the Daunte Culpepper dance - which kind of makes me think of Lego Minifigs) to the other's hilarious rants on twitter-slash-his re-cock-ulous blog. In a way I feel that I've been primed to become interested in this strategic game. These factors came together all of a sudden - they formed into an apex in my mind - waiting for that match to strike and kindle the bulb that goes off in a flash to make me realize that this game is actually incredibly intelligent - and as Klosterman frames it, progressive.

And that's where he hooked me: progressive. That word embodies so much scope within its lithe appearance. It was my irrefutable undoing and metaphorical and intellectual indoctrination into the world of football. Which is kind of hilarious when I think about how many times Klosterman literally takes time out of the book to write a paragraph about how people should not read the section on football if they're not interested in football. I'm glad I took the time - being somewhat obsessive about his writing - it would feel wrong not to read every word. It would feel like cheating, like I hadn't finished the book. But that's besides the point. There is such a passion there that I could not help but read every single thing he wrote - and the more I read the more I realized just how incredibly fascinating it could be to learn all the rules, to learn all the positioning, to muse in my down time about interesting plays that could be made. It would be a crazy undertaking, it would take up lots of time and brain-space, but I think I could do it. Maybe not at this particular moment, but eventually yes, I sort of really want to!

It is very exciting - to go from not thinking about a sport, or thinking of it with mild distaste, to actually realizing that it could be something amazing. I mean - I guess one of my first clues was the fact that this really really hot really really smart girl at my old work, Thea, was really into it. This girl is a genius, both her parents are doctors, and she's got her own consulting company and has finished some sort of crazy medical degree. That was my first sign. Then came all the rest. So....I guess...now it's only a matter of watching some games with some knowledgeable people. It's gonna be fun. I just know it.

untitled

I have writer's block.

This is what I was afraid of. So I'm going to write about how I can't write and why I feel this way.

Happiness doesn't agree with me. Or maybe not so much. I think my problem is that I still have issues with being happy on my own. When you throw another person into the mix it's hard to separate self-happiness and happiness that is caused by them. The last thing I want in my life is to be depending on someone else for it.

But what happens when your inner hunger for someone surpasses everything else? It's unhealthy and something that I still work on keeping at bay. The process is catalyzed by the fact that we are in the beginning-slash- honeymoon stage of everything - there are no issues, everything is perfect. It's as if you wanted to devour the other person alive and wear their skin. But again - this isn't healthy. "You're too intense to make an open relationship to work" - I'm too intense, period. My feelings sway me too much and I have to work really hard not to be overcome. This is why I have to shut off every now and again.

At the moment this is where I am. Being consumed by the flames. And it makes it really hard to concentrate on anything else.

It makes me feel weak. Like I can't handle it. And that's not what I want. I mean it is what I want, more than anything else in life. But it's a battle of my inner self between being consumed by the flame and being in control. If there's anything I hate, it's not being in control. How do I balance this? I suppose knowing that I need to is the first step.

And the last thing I want to do is clean my room at the moment - even though the dust Jackalopes are piling up.

And this is how I know that I still have issues with being depressed - part of me is thinking "meh, just sleep on a bare bed tonight because you know you don't care enough to actually do anything about it" - and this worries me. I should just make myself deal with it. Perhaps this a good direction towards recovery.

Smile.

but how long can you keep it up?

It's been a hell of a week. Don't take that the wrong way. I haven't had time to read the books I told myself I would read, but the alternative option is pretty great at the moment.

My only worry is that the levels of bliss fulminating in my core are going to be destructive to my literary skill. There's a sort of stigma: that writing and creativity are best when they come from a dark and depressed place. It is easier to write when I'm upset than it is when I'm happy. Perhaps because it is my way of coping with everything. I suppose in that respect I should try to make it a habit of writing more when I'm in a good mood or good place in my life. What's hard about that is that it passes by so fast that I just want to sit there and feel it all and shut my brain off to the meandering that happens when I'm morose.

They tell you that when you're in the first stages of romantic bliss your brain pumps out the same types of serotonin/chemicals that you get from certain drugs. They're what keep you infatuated and focused on your partner - more hierarchically speaking - they help forward the genetic imperative. I find this dually fascinating and gross. I like the feeling - I don't know how I feel about where it's leading. Back to my issue though. When I'm morose - I generally feel more witty. I equate cynicism and anger with intelligence and hilarity. Maybe because most of the people I really like and identify with had or have an angry black humour schtick going for them. I have to break this pattern. I think I'll accomplish this by upping my amount of writing here by a significant chunk. I update pretty damn randomly, but I'm sure once school starts I'll be wanting to write more. Perfect.

In regards to what's been happening this past week? Sometimes you just have to jump in head first and deal with consequences later. I got lucky.

birthdays

Talking to a friend today - it is her birthday and she mentioned she felt "meh". I sympathize. I've not had any good birthdays really. There has been a small succession of slight failures on each one's part. So it hit me - the obvious: we're conditioned to think that birthdays are a big deal. That something amazing will happen just because our satellite has gone another revolution around the sun. The expectation of a giant internal clock striking twelve and suddenly feeling older, wiser, something - anything. Bullshit. It means nothing.

The real days of growth are the ones where we overcome hurdles and learn new things. This is when we age, grow wiser, etc. I want to say so many things in addition to that. But they're all really personal and ridiculous. Also it's early days of some of my own realizations yet and I think I'll ruminate on them some more before committing them to cyberspace.