What We Are

I've decided that, above all, we are who we are because of the experiences we've had. Simple enough, yet for me a profoundly interesting idea. Think about it-- what we've seen, done, haven't done even-- it all adds up to what makes us unique and special (I'll give everyone the benefit of the doubt).

Here's the kicker-- until we're a certain age, we really have no choice about what experiences and events we are exposed to. What shows we watch, what we eat, who we spend time with-- parents, legal guardians and the like all control those things with pretty tight fists until that golden age of 16. A car liberates us in ways we had never known, allowing one to choose and think about what s/he wants to do and see and experience.

The whole nature-nurture debate has been solved awhile ago and without much fanfare, because we are products of our genetic make-up and also of our experiences/ "nurture" via parents, adults, whatever. for me, the idea that I am who I am today largely because of the choices of others seems pretty ridiculous though, I guess, unavoidable.

Word.

Procrastination as a Career Choice (or "Running Away from Sheets of Bubble Jet Paper")

I've been watching a new show entitled "Californication." It is damn good. DAMN good. Essentially, David Duchovny plays Hank Moody, a talented writer who has been sans inspriation, muse or good subject for several years. The show contains a lot of nudity (usually voluptuous breasts, as it turns out), though I could really do without. Something about the show strikes a chord with me and I think it has something to do with the life that Moody has etched out for himself in the Hollywood hills. He doesn't really work, he drinks too much and rips it up on a fairly regular basis at bars, clubs, galas, whatever. His lack of productive writing has lead him to a productive, albeit contrite and shallow, social life filled with fast cars and faster women.

A career built upon procrastination, in a sense. I, too, like to sit back and do nothing. Study for a final exam? Whatever. Why not alter my fantasy NBA line-up quickly to try and snag a few more points from the hot hand of John Stockton (JK, I don't have Stockton on my team; if I could, though, I would have taken him #1 overall-- 17 ppg and 14 apg over the course of 3 seasons? Ridiculous).

Robots 1, Humans 0.

The Art of Avoidance: A Primer to Not Running into Passer-By's

Not many people know this, but I have a pretty severe disability. And no, I am not "differently abled" or "gifted in a special way," especially since both of those phrases make it seem like I can function normally within my disabled arena.

The truth is... I suffer from something called Zig-Zag Dysplasia. It has yet to me recognized by the DSM-IV (similar to Dr. Tobias Funke's "Never-Nude Phenomenon," though I assure you it is a real and debilitating disorder.

In the simpelest terms I can conjure, Zig-Zag Dysplasia is a condition where the afflicted person cannot seem to void running into people. This may occur in hallways, doorways, along crowded and even uncrowded avenues, boulevards and walking paths. Indoors, outdoors-- it doesn't matter. Usually one is able to avoid bumping into another person at least some of the time. If you are walking towards someone who is also walking towards you and your paths will eventually meet, it makes sense that even if you both guess as to witch way the other person will veer that you should be right about 1/2 of the time (assuming no verbal cues, i.e. hip movements, are picked up on).

I, on the other hand, have about a 16% rate of moving in the right direction. This puts me in the Category 4 range of Zig-Zag Dysplasia. See the following chart for the conditions of each category:

Category 1: Zig-Zag success rate of 35-41%
Category 2: " " " " 28-34%
Category 3: " " " " 21-27%
Category 4: " " " " 14-20%
Category 5: " " " " below 14%

As you can see, I am nearly in the most dibilitated grouping. As such, please take special note to give me ample indications as to whether you plan to zig (move to the left) or zag (move to the right). I am not known for being lucky and will run into you... plus, my fake tooth is sharp and part metal.

words to consider before getting out of bed in the morning

"balance is the key but i take it to extremes
i can think of all the ways but i can't find the means
when the world dictates i'll never get what i need
if i open up my eyes maybe i'll see that"

stay tuned for much ado about procrastinating, a moped rally to toronto, my foray into acoustic techno and a slice of life from cincinnatti dave.

Edinger Westphal

Progress
It upon us.
No joke
No lie
This is so
Serious.
Scientists
Have found the formula.
The pathways
Of emotion:
Love, lust
Hysteria.
And it's
All in books
Now.
Outlining
The routes
That all our
Lies took,
The difference
Between real
And a little
Fake.
All of
Our memories.
Even every
Off day.

1 Lap Down, 3 More To Go: My Quest For 100 Years

Is life is indeed a sprint then I have one lap under my belt and three more to go. I am 25 on May 30th at 7:52PM and although the full gravity of the situation has yet to fully hit me, I am not too concerned about a number. I suppose that a quarter century of life experience is quite a bit considering that I feel like I'm still 15 sometimes, but if the old adage "you're as young as you feel" is any indicator of how long I'll desperately cling to life and those I care about here on Earth (cue a triumphant theme song!), I am not going anywhere for a very long time. Like Monica on Friends, I am scrappy. On a side note, the fact that I quote that show shows ya'll just how white I really am.

But anyway.

I love life and the possibilities it still holds for me. Travel, love, family, a successful acting career... these are the things I think about when I am alone sitting in my room. However, if I died today would I be happy? Would I be able to say that I have no significant regrets? Have I taken advantage of the opportunities and good things I've been afforded by the Creator or whoever decided to make me a middle-class white kid from Central MN?

The answer, most definitely, is a resolute "No!" I have not kissed as passionately as I would have liked, I've left too many projects, ideas and dreams unfinished or not even started on the figurative work table of my mind.

The thing is, everyone can always say that they want to do something. Sure, I want to write a book, travel more, learn Spanish and do a million other things. Now obviously some of the goals and aspirations I have are time-sensitive or at least not in the cards right now because of school, my house, etc. But STILL, what have I really done that I keep saying I want to do? The answer here is a depressing, "Not much."

My goal, which needs to be reached by the next May 30 on the calendar but hopefully much, much sooner, is to actually DO! instead of just want. I can learn Spanish (or at least get a good running start) before my next birthday. The same goes for raising money to help combat the West Nile Virus in Africa by buying bed nets for children (http://www.nothingbutnets.net/) and other things of that nature.

I WILL explore more, enjoy life to a higher degree, take time out to DO! exactly those things I keep putting off (including learning how to type properly). One of the saddest things is a life filled with regret and missed opportunity. I need to realize that I can't wait for things to happen TO me but rather that I need to MAKE them happen.

"Life, Laugh, Love" and all of those other slogans people put up in their homes, dorm rooms, rear-views, etc. really do make sense. Why not make this one shot we've got the best one possible? The table is set, sure, or you could say that my cards have been dealt. Whatever the terminology, none of us chooses the family or place we are born into. We don't get the luxury of deciding the Who, What, When, and Where of our lives but we do (yes, we do) get to decide the "Why."

To me, that "Why" is as valuable as anything else I've got. Am I going to make the most of every single second, day, week and so on? Or will I just maintain the pace and progress I've already got going for me? if there is anything unique about the American psyche, it is the fact that we, as a nation, are never satisfied. Big, bigger, BEST is what we are all about. A little ego- and ethno-centric, yes, but when applied to the individual it is exciting and exhilarating.

I WILL be the best I can be. I can give more, be more, feel more. Everything is there, one just needs to take advantage of the unique situation each life really is. My experiences, knowledge (i.e. lack thereof), relationships with people and family and friends, they all make me a completely unique state of existence.

The world can be a deep, dark depressing state. Herman Melville (of Moby Dick notoriety) once wrote "I am, as I am; whether hideous, or handsome, depends upon who is made judge." The fact is, we are all to be our own judge and jury while our hearts continue to beat. Each of us goes to bed each night knowing whether or not he or she made a difference, took a chance, were decent and kind to others.

"Sic transit gloria.... glory fades." We aren't guaranteed another year of life, let alone another minute. I want to say I put myself out there and did each and every single thing that I've talked about wanting to do. This is my quest and in the end, as I am walking alone to whatever afterlife or fate that has been sealed for me, I want to do so knowing that I tried to rock really hard at life.

Cheers. Prost. Slainte. Ahoy. Take a bow, good sir or madame.

Johnny Quest Thinks I'm A Sellout: My Journey With Less Than Jake

The year was 1998 and it was finally spring. The glorious weather and free and easy life that is typical of being young were not lost on me. I had a bounce in my step and appropriately so, for I was listening to what I considered one of the greatest records ever made: "Pezcore" by Less Than Jake. The trees were sprouting leaves up in the sky just as so many new romances were popping up from out of nowhere at South junior High in Saint Cloud, MN. Rather than settle for a one night stand (as kids that age are wont to do), I decided to devote my untested heart to a band that seemed to be writing the soundtrack to my life.

I am being a bit facetious, but only just slightly. Before stumbling across LTJ I had only "discovered" one other band, Reel Big Fish. Other than The Beatles, I had only purchased a hand full of albums (by such bands at The Presidents of the United States of America, the Rolling Stones, and the soundtrack to the movie "That Thing You Do."). What is it about bands with three word names that make people want to sit back, smoke some ditch weed and get lost in melodic wondrousness and lyrical intricacies?

I guess for me Less Than Jake always combined a fun, free and fast style of play with words and songs that meant things to them. On their old website was a really cool feature where each band member interviewed one of the other guys in the group. I listened to one story and journey through music after another, to all of the crazy events and amazing experiences that surely go along with any kind of music tour in the U.S. or abroad, and I couldn't help but feel like I knew who those guys were.

I have never stopped listening to Less Than Jake. In fact, I have joined their "collector nerd" ranks and own a bunch of rare vinyls and other things (including the ever-elusive Pie Tin, though it is missing the smoker's club card, the Cereal Box and Pizza Box, etc.). The only worthwhile music to listen to are those songs and albums where emotion and truth are apparent from start to finish. If LTJ brings anything to the table, that just may be it.

The album "Borders & Boundaries" is all about touring and what it is like to reminisce about home and growing up when one is 2000 miles away and drifting along highways through cities and states that are unfamiliar. "Pezcore" was recorded over a 2 day period during breaks from three concerts and has a live, fresh and raw quality to it. I guess my point is that this band puts out music that is not necessarily created to make money, bring in groupies or get face time on MTV.

Rather, it is about life, friends, love and the pursuit of avoiding a 9-5 job and a decades of time that could have been better spent doing something else.


"The Science of Selling Yourself Short"

I've come to my senses,
That I've become senseless,
I could give you lessons on how to ruin your friendships,
Every last conviction, I smoked them all away,
I drank my frustrations down the drain, out of the way,
So I sit and wait and wonder,
"Does anyone else feel like me?"
Someone so tired of their routines and disappearing self-esteems,

[Chorus:]
I'll sing along,
Yeah with every emergency,
Just sing along,
I'm the king of catastrophies,
I'm so far gone,
That deep down inside I think it's fine by me,
I'm my own worst enemy

I could be an expert on co-dependency,
I could write the best book on underage tragedy,
I've been spending my time at the local liquor store,
I've been sleeping nightly on my best friends kitchen floor,
So I sit and wait and wonder,
"Does anyone else feel like me?"
I'm so over-dosed on apathy and burnt out on sympathy.

[Chorus]

Let the meaning slip away
Lost my faith in another day,
Self deprication seems okay,
I never thought I'd make it anyway

Lawn & Garden + Cat Treats

Today was a day just like any other...

And then Arvind called me. I bought a leaf blower and a "weed eater" from him, which sounded pretty cool due to his thick Pakistani accent. Anyway, getting excited about lawn and garder type stuff means I have officially become an adult... a lame one, at that.

So, I need to hit up a concert immediately. If I ever get the old band back together and we release an album, it will definitely be called "Songs in the Key of the Apocalypse." It only works because we wouldn't be a hardcore, screamo or metal-infused band. Ideally, it should be the title of an acoustic album, or at least an album infused with a lot of acoustic melodies, harmonies and chromatic keys.

In other news, I tried a piece of my cats food... Don't laugh, it was $17.99 + tax for a 5 lb. bag of it. Since Suki is but a kitten and is growing (and because I want her to hit the 20 lb. mark), I decided to buy her the best stuff I could find, as recommended by the employee of the pet food palace I went to.

Honest opinion: Not bad!

It got me thinking and a bit curious, so I tried one piece each of her two kinds og cat treats. Crunchy, nutty and a mild smokey flavor mean I'll be back for more later.

Really though, the cat food was surprisingly good.

And now for a deep thought that I took the liberty to surround with quotation marks because sometimes I can just tell when I've uttered a statement composed of equal parts brilliance and emotion... even though it happens less that I care to admit.

"I have never been the jealous type, but it is always hard to think about the good times someone has had with someone that isn't you."

Yossarian lives!

Last night something awesome happened. Yes, I managed to hack through a whole chapter of my Central Nervous System textbook by Snell (actually not too bad for a dry topic). I also knocked down some assignments for my Methods course and watched a few good TV shows. "Big Bang Theory" is a comedic sitcom with a nerdy twist that is pretty solid.

Anyway, I was looking at my fish tank when the lights had been off for a awhile and who did I see sitting in a rock nook but the one and only Yossarian the Bumblebee Catfish! I first picked him up my senior year at SJU in the fall. He has been through a few disease outbreaks, two big moves and also of being looked after by my forgetful and abusive (towards cats... he kicked Hoops once!) brother, Kyle.

I thought he didn't make it after the last move from St. Cloud to Bloomington because I hadn't seen him for several weeks. BUT, he is still as crafty and chubby as ever. He looks just like the one in the photo I've attached... and he eats baby fish!

The American Dream of the 21st Century

I have been using the same styrofoam cup at school for over 2 months. While a clever environmentalist, such as someone who recylces even in the face of "God" or at least in the presence of people who like to think they know what He wants us to do with those blue bins everywhere, might ask, "Why use styrofoam in the first place?"

Answer: Convenience (a true Daily Double in America, right?). Convenience is the reason for the season we've created, that being one long, tumultuous year across the globe of weird weather patterns, catastrophes and other succulent evidence that supports the global climate change view of things as opposed to the four lovely (albeit not exactly evenly dispersed time-wise) seasons we used to have here in lovely Minnesota (Note: Global warming is not what it is all about! Climate change are the keywords here).

As per my usual style, I digress.

Getting back to the subject, that being my styrofoam cup, I am surprised to see that a lot of people who have noticed me carrying and re-using the same cup for so long have begun asking why I do it. Because I wrote a bunch of stuff on it, including a stylized version of my cat's name and something I'll add later on, it is easy to identify vs. a plain white cup and thus draws the eye like a low cut blouse or a car accident (not for me, just for the people driving in front of me who have never seen a car in a ditch before, ay yi yi). It seems like I am being jokingly ostrasized for wanting to reduce my footprint.

I guess my goal is to show myself and maybe a few others who are paying attention that we live in a disposable society. Everything seems geared to be used quickly and then replaced just for the cycle to begin once again. Here's what else I wrote on my cup:

"The American Dream: Life, Love, the Pursuit of Money" although convenience is just as fitting.

Once Mike Edgar helps me get my moped running, I plan to bike or moped to school, the grocery store, etc. I figure if I need the speed/ convenience of a motorized vehicle, I might as well pull down over 100 MPG while using one.

I plan to use my cup until it wears out. I keep it in my locker (yes, my school is a converted and expanded middle school so I have a locker... two actually, one by the auditorium and one in the locker room. Both are in great locations, actually, which pleases me).

I hope I remember to write about my cat next time... or, more to the point, a typical day that we share together. Such early mornings!

A Day In The Life

There are 5 days a year that are going to be hard for me no matter what: Christmas, January 17, Mother's Day, May 30, October 10.

The only positive outcome of losing a loved one is that it can act as a catalyst to bring a family closer together.

Dreaming that someone is still around when they are actually not is a horrible trick for the mind to play.

Never assume that anyone knows how you feel about them-- speak up while you still have the chance to do so.

"You're known by everyone for everything you've done
Fuck buying flowers for graves
I'd rather buy you a one way non-stop
To anywhere
Find anyone
Do anything
Forget and start again
Love"

I won't let the bastards grind me down... I will play my game beneath the spin light. Spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light, spin light.

What book is that from? Is it an original thought or a riddle? Don't forget to leave a forwarding address even if you decide to fly in the middle of the night. If you gave me my year back I'd probably waste it anyway. I chase too many dreams to keep my feet on the ground.

"3 years, 2 months, 1 week, 4 days...

I'm always counting down cause there ain't no easier way."

I just got 5 money adjustments from a T8 intern and feel great. I guess him getting the short end of the stick with a high lottery number and having to stay at school for his intern hours vs. going to any clinic the the Twin Cities was at least beneficial for me. I asked him if he was jaded about the situation and he told me that of course it was less than ideal, but each day is what you make it.

That's important to keep in mind. The Specials perhaps said it best when they wrote the lyrics, "Don't let the bastards grind you down!" Each day has the opportunity to be amazing, especially when one lives in an affluent country such as the good old U.S. of A. Then again, some of the happiest people I've seen are those who have next to nothing in Western terms.

However, that lack of material goods sometimes equates to a decreased amount of worrying. Worrying about how to pay for stuff, how to keep it nice and neat and out of the hands of thieves and miscreants. Oi vey, indeed.

Here's something kind of fun I've had in my head for a long time and since I don't have class for 35 minutes, I feel as though I can get close to writing it all down here and now.

"A sea in which I am constantly drowning..."

As the disc slid into the CD player, he started the engine of his '94 Saab. The two friends buckled their seat belts almost in time to the opening melody coursing through the speakers and as Rick slid out of his parent's driveway, he removed his heart from his throat and placed is squarely on his sleeve as he had done so many times before. Shifting into drive, the lyrics rang out: "She says I'm much too thin, she asks me if I'm sick. 'What's a girl to do with friends like this?'"

This was not a new routine for Rick and his best friend, Wiles (usually referred to as Wiley). For as many Friday afternoons as either cared to remember, they hopped into the car and spoke of teenage love, music, and what to do with their lives after high school. As the latter was nearing its end, both were anxious to start their new lives at the respective universities each had chosen. An era was drawing to a close, though that was hardly going to get in the way of the serious topic they both wanted to discuss in full detail.

"First of all, what did she say exactly?" Wiley prodded, anxious to get to the bottom of their schools topic of the day. Shifting in a slightly agitated manner, Rick responded with a confident veneer that did not do a great job of hiding his insecurity from such a close friend.

"She said, and I quote, 'Umm...... no, no thanks.'" Continuing, he added, "I got a really good feeling about it, though, a great one even. Margot hesitated, and that hesitation symbolized a slightly ajar door into which I plan to shove part of my figurative body to keep it open. I've got a shot and..."

"Yeah, a shot in hell! Dude, why would you even think that a flat rejection carries any promise with it?" chimed in Wiley, partially in an attempt to prevent Rick from carrying on and on about a 3.5 word answer. "Umm," as most people know, is chalked up as only half a word in situations such as this. "And let me ask you something else. I heard you winked at her. You winked, man! Is this the 1980's all of a sudden? Are you going to start wearing jean jackets and dressing like an Eastern European? I think my mom has some leggings in the crawl space if you're that serious about making the transition to 20 year ago. Seriously."

Rick looked as though he had an answer already prepared as he listened to Wiley's verbal punches to his pride. "Alright, it appears that some of the less savory people at our school..."

"You mean all of them?"

"Well, possibly. I am not sure who rides the rumor Ferris Wheel at our fine institution but if anyone says I winked, they are a lair. Except Margot because she is too cute to lie... and if she hears I called her a liar, that partially ajar door will serve as a vertical guillotine to my heart I'm afraid..." Rick trailed off and looked quite perfectly despondent while Wiles rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, more as a point of emphasis that out of necessity.

"Rumor Ferris Wheel? I think you mean rumor mill, and it is not usually something people ride even in a delusional mind such as yours. And yes, I know you got a 33 on your ACT but you're still clueless about the 'Rules of the Game,' so don't argue. Another thing-- stop with the obscure and forced analogies, they are not helping you out around the 'water cooler' at school. See? I can throw them out there, as well."

Both paused as a particularly bad ass song broke out on the mixed CD ("I Want You To Want Me" by Cheap Trick) that they had been listening to all spring. On an interesting aside, a copy of that very album had been left on the doorstep of Margot's home. Rick was certain she listened to it all the time and that she was not at all embarrassed about the inscription on the disc that read "Your eyes are a sea," and that continued below the center hole common on all CD's "In which I am constantly drowning." The strength of his certainty was perhaps only matched by the force she used upon finding it to frisbee it into her neighbors yard. A riding lawn mower served to help return it from the earth from which it came.

"Poor, poor hopeless Wiley... I really do pity you. You don't have an optimistic bone in your body and that, my friend, is your downfall. You see, I make lemonade out of lemons while you make... really sour, bitter and crappy lemonade out of lemons that come up in your life. The whole Margot situation is less than ideal right now, but I am staying positive. She has my card now so I should be getting a text, e-mail or friend request any time now."

"Ok, hold up a second! You gave her a card?! Your card?! Have you ever heard of the term 'social suicide,' Rick?" Wiley was not happy. His reputation at school was in part connected to Rick's and the last thing he needed right before prom season was a blemish stemming from his friends unbelievable actions. "And if you tell me it was the very same hand-made card you came up with in lab last week..."

"Of course! That card was money!" Rick grinned ear to ear and as the pair pulled up to Val's Burgers & Malts, they noticed Margot's Pontiac in the parking lot.

"Here we go again," they said nearly simultaneously (though not in a fake way, as is prone to happen at culmination points in many a movie).

Rick had clearly gone off the deep. But who could blame him? Young love is perhaps the most complex, confusing and great thing one can experience. However, it is usually best when such strong feelings are reciprocated.

Richest Man, Poorest Person

Paycheck in so you check out
Is that what you're all about?
Money has dyed your fingers green
Is that who you really want to be?
Your disease is quite common now
Too far gone to question how
In your eyes some history
Dead presidents, a dark tragedy

You say you're the richest man
But I only see the poorest person
Married to Miss 9 to 5
What a fucking waste of life

Buying your way into Hell
That's fucking hard to sell
Business man never sees his kids
Buys their love with endless gifts
Charity is unknown by you
Ignorance is hardly an excuse
Leather chair and a plasma screen
Muted infomercial, kids are starving

You say you're the richest man
But I only see the poorest person
Married to Miss 9 to 5
What a fucking waste of life

We all own possessions
The tricky part is keeping them from owning us
When was the last time your Doc Martens said "I love you"?
Does your Abercrombie shirt send you a birthday card every year?
Look around because all we have is each other!

<<>>

"To sleep perchance to dream"

Other options for the title of this blog were:

1. "Dream of demons while you sleep/ Makes you stutter when you speak"

2. "Only in Dreams"

I like the one I chose because it was written by Shakespeare and gives the impression that I am part of the intelligentsia as opposed to the Simpsons-quote-alot-sia. Whew.

Alright, so I had a crazy dream last night even by my standards. I was in a situation reminiscent of CBS's hit show LOST sans the island and Jack. Kate was there though (audible purring noise... not from Suki but from me [on even more of an aside, I can't purr of grr or do any of those "bedroom"/"funny ways to hit on someone" noises.]) and I think she touched my knee, yowza. Anyway, there was running and shooting and other LOST-esqe things going on. I got nicked by a bullet in the calf and it really fired me up and helped me kill some of the Others because it damaged my Tupac Shakur calf tattoo (outlined by a barbed wire frame, obviously. Duh, even).

And then the craziness started... For some reason, I was in a contest that required everyone to eat a monkey brain in its entirety. Contrary to everything ever published in a gross anatomy text, the eyes were also part of the feast because they were directly connected to the brain. Why? I'll never know, since it was/is my dream and I know a thing or two about vasculature and innervation in the head. Also, insects have a head, abdomen and thorax. See? I'm well-rounded.

I was the last person to attempt to eat an entire brain. I won, but I feel a little guilty about the method in which I did so. I truly did eat the whole damn monkey brain, chased every so often with what I think was a blend of Dr. Slice (17/32 Dr. pepper, 15/32 Slice... used to exist back in the day and then was run out of town by those greedy bastards at Mr. Pibb. They got their comeuppance, though, and alas they are no more). However, the brain I was given was smaller than the others, had no eyes (for some reason they were yellow pustules for the other people) and it was also filled with unwrapped Starbursts. Lots of them... maybe some Lemonheads too, I'll never really know.

And then I woke up.

But hey, best idea for an invention EVER: A machine that tapes ones dreams as s/he sees them while asleep and records them for all of posterity. Talk about a potentially awesome experience-- there would be food, fun and fashion not to mention obscurity (moreso than is found here), horror, sexy times, and essentially the whole possible spectrum of human emotion, experience and candy. Lots of candy.

I would pay handsomely or even armsomely for a contraption like that. However, what if it showed us that we dream through our waking lives? That we are asleep when we think we are awake and awake when we think we are asleep. For example, what if upon viewing your dream for the first time you realized that it just showed you what you did the day prior? Sounds like a scary premise for a Groundhog's Day-like movie. Cue the dramatic, moody background music track... NOW!

Lots of rants, less raves and a few retro themes

(click on the title of this post for its theme song)

I'm angry.

The weather is less-than-jake and I've got my new school schedule running at almost full-steam, meaning Fridays off after 11:50. So, I'm sitting on my couch bored as a homemade freshman initiation paddle at a frat house (though, to be fair, I am less confused about my sexuality and fetishes than the burly upperclassman who use the said paddle each and every year). Options for the afternoon ranged from a bike ride to disc golf and even a trip to World of Fish (they have some Nannocara sp. cichlids in that are pretty badass).

If we can supposedly put a man on the moon (note: I am not sure I believe we ever have) and can create amazing buildings, bridges and plastic-surgery success stories I don't think it is too much to ask for May 2nd of each and every year to be sunny and carefree. Sorry if my American Dream includes less Doritos + Mountain Dew and more exercise + shenanigans.

Some things that piss me off to no end:
1. Junk mail. Seriously, it has become a nuisance. After getting my new house and upon moving in, I've been receiving all kinds of crap from churches (they send the most stuff by far), dentists (everyone knows that I am an anti-dentite bastard and love that about myself), auto shops (I drive a Camry, come on! Those things don't break, shake or hyperventilate), and a lot of crappy businesses I'll never go to. Not to mention credit card offers... good thing these people exist, I guess, otherwise the USPS would be running at even more of a deficit.

2. Driving. If a recent article I read online is accurate, some countries have gas prices as high as $18 a gallon while others have it as low at 19 cents a gallon. Either way, I am sick of paying any fee. I wish I could walk or take reliable and non-sketch public transportation. Sure, my moped will get me around 100 MPG but I'm also at risk for a Freudenthal-esqe accident where muscles in my shoulder tear away from the bone and atrophy starts to kick in before I get an appointment scheduled to get healed for the reasonable sum of $15K.

3. Ich. It is actually known as Ichthyophthirius in the scientific community (recall that ichthyology is the study of fish) but regardless is present in my tank and means I have to go buy a cannister of non-iodized salt, bump up the temperature to around 82F and let nature take it's course. Still.

In other news, I am happy to say that my new laptop is going to be transformed into a music playing machine with lots of rare tracks and converted vinyl records. Of note are the following:

1. Three days of live shows from Less Than Jake circa 2002. During the Minneapolis show that was played at the Quest Club, I can hear myself yelling for them to play "Just Like Frank."

2. Modest Mouse Live at the Crystal Ballroom. Very solid bootleg/venue recording, great chill music.

3. Reel Big Fish live at the House of Blues in Hollywood (I think).

I don't have much else to say so i'll close with some original lines I jotted down:

"84th And Penn"

I keep a suitcase in my closet just for days like this
Every second feels like forever when the sight of a city makes you sick
The buildings blend together and the street lights stay on red
It always gets this bad when the ill will lives inside your head

And I'll drive (drive, drive, drive)
Until the horizon turns to black
Focusing each and every mile
On never looking back
And I'll try (try, try, try)
To make it to the end
Of the Earth or something like it
Where I can start again

This reads cold, I know
But maybe it's not so
A fresh start always
Fixes a heavy heart

Life Is What You Make Of It (or "Saddle-up, for tomorrow we ride into the darkess that is the unknown future!")

"Are you afraid you're missing out, that everything good is happening somewhere else? With nobody in your bed, the night's hard to get through..." - Brand New





The conscious experience we all share represents just one version of "actual reality," that is, reality as it truly exists before it is filtered, interpreted and otherwise modified and changed to become more acceptable to each and every one of us. We all do this at an unconscious level, true story. Of course, each of us has his/her own version of reality which, when compared/compiled with that of everyone else, falls into its appropriate place along the spectrum which can be viewed as a Bell Curve (see above).

Obviously, those of us who are considered "crazy," "weird," or otherwise posses a conscious, waking reality that is simply different of uncommon vs. that of the average person are represented by either end of the line forming the curve.

"Hey Nerd-Boy/Human Lawn Dart, what does all of this have to do with anything?"

I'm glad you asked, heckler from back in the reference section of the library!

We can change (ie. improve) our living, waking reality! Thinking about problems, both past, present and future, keeps us from living in the now or in the moment. By removing ourselves from the present with thinking that draws upon negative energy from other "problems" (there are no problems, only differing events that are up to us to interpret!), we are limiting the good that we can experience.

Worrying about possessions, money and things instead of each other is why this impersonal and hardly functional society we live in is the way it is. We constantly put ourselves above anything and everything that surrounds us... Perhaps it is something innate and common to us all, a survival mechanism designed to help us filter out unpleasant realities, perhaps not.

My point is that all we really have in life that can give back to us what we give/put in to it is each other, other people, fellow humans. I am as guilty as anyone of the aforementioned offenses-- I get just as caught up in focusing on myself as anyone else does (which explains why my roommate and the "wall squirrel" are still adjacent to each other most nights and weekends).

With that said, I want to change.

"Do or do not, there is no try!" -Yoda

Good point, Yoda, and I WILL change.

If you live a lie, you become a lie. Nothing in worse than betraying one's own heart. Hell, life lasts as long as a sprint if you're lucky and finding someone who runs it the same way and speed as yourself is a rarity, so you owe it to yourself to do everything possible (and even some things you might not initially believe are possible) to make that happen, to make that YOUR reality!

"Nirvana is to live the ordinary life so alert, so full of consciousness, so full of light, that everything becomes luminous." - Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh

Or, if that is a little too much to wrap your head around, how about one of my favorites?

"One love, one heart- let's get together and feel alright" - Bob Marley

The Neverending Story

As I sit in the school library typing this when I neither have class nor any real reason to be here apart from my lack of internet at home, I can't help but wonder if I come across as a loser or not. If anyone knew I was here by sheer force of my will rather than for some other reason, they'd probably throw old vegetables at me (chiropractic students always have those floating around, you know-- mostly onions, though rutebagas and other obscurities of the vegetable world have made appreances at times.)

Rutabagas aside (I didn't know what they really looked like, wow that thing would take a head off if we were huge Lego-people with those semi-weak click-on heads! Of course, rutabaga attacks would be the least of our problems if we were indeed Lego-people. The list would probably start with something like:

1. Undermedicated OR undiagnosed giant-kids with ADHD [assuming we were our normal size but in Lego form] with penchants for giant-kid sized microwaves [or would they be macrowaves if a human-sized object could fit inside of it?].

2. Birds, but only because they can be kind of scary. Relatives of mine have a parrot and suffice it to say that the thing almost took my thumb off at the 1st knuckle [ie. the proximal metacarpal joint of the thumb], and all I was doing was trying to give it a 3-D Dorito. True story. Another true story is "The Neverending Story," as told by three weird and cool-ish movies.

3. Super glue. Imagine being stuck in one position for eternity just because chemical bonds that are too strong to be broken happen to be affixing your feet to some random object like a contact case or piano key [wow, two horrible examples... golf ball! Now I have 3 horrible examples, yes!].

So yes, rutabagas are probably on Bush's list of "ememies of the state that need to be dealth with" right after ducks (sea, land, air omnivores-- come on!) and the creators of LOST [that show is fuuuuuuuuucked up, but awesome. 4-toed statues just made my list of things to do today]. Alright, time to enclose what is perhaps the longest body of text ever enclosed by parentheses).

"Give me money for my thoughts or thoughts for my money, I could go either way at this point," said Matt aloud, though to no one in particular.

Marketing is the easiest thing in the world. Much like Tommy Boy's dad (R.I.P.), I could probably sell a ketch-up popsicle to a woman wearing white gloves in July. Except, I wouldn't even try selling a ketch-up popsicle because there is absolutely no market for such a thing! Idiots, I swear.

For example, I think most people in America if not Somalia and the rest of the first-world countries out there would be driving around in a Ford "Nintendo" if those ether-soaked hooligans up/over/down (depending on where you are while reading this) in Detroit had named the Ford Tempo the Ford Nintendo. Seriously, it could have a dashboard like an old school Nintendo controller, maybe a zapper gun that somehow applies ketch-up to things (ketch-up is pretty cool-- in Ireland they call it red sauce and unless you're a gorgeous blonde or a fairly aggressive guy with face tattoos they won't give it away for free or even make it readily availible, as per my experience in Corcaigh back in the mid-2000's).

Another miss-that-could-have-been-a-hit would have to be Jolly Joes. Those bastards (I wrote them a letter about it, they know I'm not a life-long enemy of the organization) down at the Just Born Co. took a delicious candy and gave it the worst name EVER... plus it is most likely responsible for the onset of my Type I diabetes. I mean, did any company out there who makes grape soda try selling it under the guise of a name that conjures up either

a.) Fat white dudes or

b.) Paedophilic fat white dudes?

No! I don't see Welch's scrambling to create a brand called "The Grapist" complete with a large, scantily-clad grape google-ing and myspace-ing men, women and even children on the label.

Another marketing idea I have is for a commercial. Basically, I am sick of all the crap they put on trying to sell one of life's basic necessities (along with sex, food and shelter as described by Maslow's "Hierarchy of Needs," look it up), that being BEER. Truer story than my last one. Anyway, find a random guy with non-symmetrical ears and a beard built for finals and maybe a clever, witty look about him who dresses like a trend-setter but who doesn't actually care about trends, setters or even socks that much, pay him $1 million upfront (hint not taken? I am available for this role) and have him say the following:

"Hey, what's up? This beer is pretty damn good, doesn't cost very much and is pretty easy to find. Plus, it'll get you buzzed, drunk, crunked, or any combination of the prior three words. Also, buying it will probably stimulate the economy, so really it pays for itself."

And to end the entry, here are the lyrics to the theme song from "The Neverending Story" (and on a side note I dunked one time during warm-ups to the New Found Glory cover of this song):

"Turn around, look at what you see

In her face, the mirror of your dreams

Make believe I'm everywhere, living in your eyes

Written on the pages is the answer to our neverending story

Reach the stars, fly a fantasy

Dream a dream, and what you see will be

Lives that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds

And there upon the rainbow is the answer to our neverending story

Show no fear, for she may fade away

In your hand, the birth of a new day

Lives that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds

And there upon the rainbow is the answer to our neverending story"

Good night, good luck and don't forget to support your local ska band, kids! For those of you who motivate me to write, thanks. For those of you who owe me money... make it happen, or it'll dislocate your sternum with a rutabaga (it could happen, except that I'm a pacifist and don't have any rutabagas because they are out of season).

Hmm, nothing like a rutabaga pie on a hot Christmas morning, am I right? Chase it with a beer and you've basically got every nutrient needed to live, even ethanol.

Prost, slainte, sloan, and my favorite-- "So long and thanks for all of the memories! Love, Julie Newmar"

UNITY- A Post About My Plan-Of-Action (+ a multitude of obscurity, as usual)

As I drove down to Mankato, MN this afternoon to enjoy my 4 day weekend and spend some time with Jess, my girlfriend and Guitar Hero cohort a strange stirring arose from deep within my soul. It was as if the core of being was shaken by the music of the legendary ska-punk band "Operation Ivy," who existed from 1987-89 and even in those short years put out what I feel to be the most influential albums in the genre ever to be made-- "Hectic" (which is actually a compilation of most of their songs).

Anyway, I realized the following: I have been sucking at the tit of "White Middle Class America" for far too long. What have I ever done to make the world a better place? Who have a I helped? I donate relatively small and meaningless amounts of money to various organizations over the course of a typical year, but the most volunteer work I've ever done was required for me to be allowed to stay enrolled at Saint John's University (www.csbsju.edu) after a ridiculously huge and pretty damn sweet/ fun party was broken up my senior year in the oncampus apartment I shared with 5 other brave souls (I say brave because our kitchen was probably the true sourse o the avian flu bug that the media wonderfully made sound like a looming apocalypse... which is probably will be, but I'll save that for another time).

Moving on, I have decided to try raising as much money as possible and then sending it to a deserving elementar school in Louisiana that was destroyed or amaged by Hurricane Katrina. Yes, I'm a little late to the game BUT do some research and look at how horribly messed up our governmental spending is when they have basically shirked all responsibility of helping to rebuild the areas affected and instead pump $1 billion every month into a pseudo-peace keeping mission in the Middle East for people that don't even want us there.

Does that come across as f*cked up to anyone else besides me?!

Anyway, I have some ideas floating around but what I'd really and truly like to do would be to assemble a crew of somewhere between 4-8 people to get in canoes, get sponsored and paddle from Lake Itasca (the north side) all the way down the Mighty Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico. Ideally, we'd get some publicity and draw some nice donations from companies that could cover our expenses and give us advertisements to wear (not sandwich boards but more like t-shirts and hats, etc.)

Anyone interested?

I might sell reusable coffee mugs at my school, too, which would serve a dual purpose in cutting down on the amount of styrofoam we run through as well as raising some money.

My girlfriend rocks and will be coming with and I think a Swedish guy I met in Budapest wants in on the sweet, sweet action as well.

On a super huge aside, I need help in figuring out how to do my own screen printing. I can read all the articles I want, but it won't really stick unless someone physically shows me.

Lastly, do yourself a favor and check out chiropractic-- preventative, non-invasive health care is the new white this year.

Cheers! Ahoy! Prost! Slainte! Atta boy, Skip!