This morning, I really wanted to pick up the stand-alone vanity mirror in the bathroom and slam it down onto the counter as hard as I could. I was able to maintain enough composure to merely pick it up above my head and simulate the behavior as best as I could without damaging anything. I really, really craved the satisfaction of destroying something, but I wasn't in quite enough of a rage to not be able to think ahead of what the consequences would be. Having to clean up a few hundreds shards of broken glass, possibly pull some out of my skin and then mop up the blood, purchase a replacement mirror, and perhaps be stricken with seven years' bad luck. So with all that in mind, I just put it down and chewed on a bath towel instead.
It makes me wish life was more like a cartoon, where I could break the hell out of something to my heart's content and then it will magically clean itself up and replace itself five minutes later. After all, the mirror did nothing to instigate my wrath, and I have no reason to prefer it remain in a million pieces. It just happened to be standing up and staring back at me at the wrong time. The key is to be able to control myself well enough to not always grab the nearest handy object to throw, but rather the nearest available object that isn't important and won't cause any real damage.
Maybe I simply need a safer, more reliable outlet for my frustrations. A punching bag, perhaps, or some manner of effigy?
Dec 28, 2008
Dec 27, 2008
Eat my shorts, teacher sir
For second and third grades of my elementary schooling, I was enrolled in two different public schools on the island of Kaua'i. For some reason, both schools required students to perform a certain ritual each morning that I did not have to deal with in either of the two Big Island elementary schools I attended.
The class was expected to stand up immediately after the tardy bell rang at 8:05 and recite the pledge of allegiance. You know, the one where you supposedly pledge your allegiance to the oh-so-wonderful United States of America. We had to pledge our allegiance every day of school, and there were 180 days in the school year. I sure pledged my allegiance often.
Of course, being as young as I was, I had no idea what pledging my allegiance even meant. They didn't even tell us what it meant. I just stood up and recited what everyone else was because I was told to. And being an impressionable, unquestioning seven year-old who believed adults are truly all-knowing beings, I did so. It seemed senseless to me even at the time to stand up and chant and then listen to a bugle rendition of some patriotic American-the-great anthem on the P.A. speaker every single goddamn morning, but I did it so as to avoid the possible pain of receiving a spanking from my dad as punishment for disobeying the all-knowing adults and the infallible system that governed my youth.
If I could go back in time with the mind of an adult who is willing to stand up for himself and object to performing senseless rituals designed to mold us all into obedient little servants, I would gladly re-enter the eight hour of the day on a second grade school morning, and do what good ol' Bongo here did:
In truth, there are many, many things in school I wish I had done, and had not done. But when you're a kid whose happiness in life is determined so strongly by your parents or guardians, the right thing to do is simply to try and stay out of trouble and do with the adults say. I truly detested school and all the ridiculous things they made us do, and I can say I wish I hadn't wasted 12 years of my life in the public school system, but who knows whether I would be a better or worse person today if I hadn't had to suffer through it. Some people say high school or college is the best time of one's life, but I disagree. Life only got better after high school and college.
The class was expected to stand up immediately after the tardy bell rang at 8:05 and recite the pledge of allegiance. You know, the one where you supposedly pledge your allegiance to the oh-so-wonderful United States of America. We had to pledge our allegiance every day of school, and there were 180 days in the school year. I sure pledged my allegiance often.
Of course, being as young as I was, I had no idea what pledging my allegiance even meant. They didn't even tell us what it meant. I just stood up and recited what everyone else was because I was told to. And being an impressionable, unquestioning seven year-old who believed adults are truly all-knowing beings, I did so. It seemed senseless to me even at the time to stand up and chant and then listen to a bugle rendition of some patriotic American-the-great anthem on the P.A. speaker every single goddamn morning, but I did it so as to avoid the possible pain of receiving a spanking from my dad as punishment for disobeying the all-knowing adults and the infallible system that governed my youth.
If I could go back in time with the mind of an adult who is willing to stand up for himself and object to performing senseless rituals designed to mold us all into obedient little servants, I would gladly re-enter the eight hour of the day on a second grade school morning, and do what good ol' Bongo here did:
In truth, there are many, many things in school I wish I had done, and had not done. But when you're a kid whose happiness in life is determined so strongly by your parents or guardians, the right thing to do is simply to try and stay out of trouble and do with the adults say. I truly detested school and all the ridiculous things they made us do, and I can say I wish I hadn't wasted 12 years of my life in the public school system, but who knows whether I would be a better or worse person today if I hadn't had to suffer through it. Some people say high school or college is the best time of one's life, but I disagree. Life only got better after high school and college.
Dec 26, 2008
What made my Christmas, 2008 edition
I'm glad Christmas is over with for another year.
I don't loathe the holiday, but unfortunately, people just make too big a deal out of it. I am not religious and certainly don't aspire to be, so that eliminates at least half the potential appeal right there. All I really do value it for are the memories of years past, when I was young and naive enough to believe in Santa Claus, and that world peace was achievable. When I got so excited about opening my presents I could barely contain myself, and I could easily lose myself in the majesty of the outdoor lights and a tree filling the house with a warm, colorful glow in the middle of the night.
This year, it simply felt like more of a chore than anything else. What do I get for a retired dad who invests in gold and silver and apparently can buy whatever he feels like having? I don't know, but of course, I feel obligated to place some miscellaneous crap under the tree for everyone. I still enjoy the holiday lights and the fragrance of imported pine in the house and... well, what else? Christmas brings home my brother, whom I seem to have nothing in common with, and whose dirty glance in my direction at the dinner table was the only communication we've shared in years. I got some seasonal employment with UPS, which enabled me to earn a few hundred extra dollars which was certainly worth it, but I can't say much for the environment I had to work in this year. As I had stated in LJ earlier, it's a "culturally homogenized snooty hell hole of golf courses and gated mansions." If all of Hawaii was like that, I wouldn't have anything to do with this place. And of course, there is the shopping. Thousands of consumers stampeding through the stores like cattle, snatching up the best bargains they can find as if they depend on those huge sales for their very survival.
All I really cared for this Christmas was someone to snuggle, or at least enjoy the company of, rather than having to act polite around my family and put up with their various attitudes. Well, maybe next year.
The actual highlight of Christmas day was taking off in the afternoon by myself. Just me, my music, the open road, and the freedom to do whatever I want and voyage wherever I please for the rest of the day. Such therapy. It also just so happened that I wandered right into an intense rain storm, in an area where rain is hardly a common occurence. Rain in the desert is really a special experience, to witness a landscape that is usually bone dry and barren experiencing a total deluge. I savored that for at least an hour before heading back around to the lush, foresty side of the peninsula and traveling down the road until it terminated at the Pololu Valley lookout. Since it was a holiday, the parking lot was infested with tourae, but as I made my way down the steep hiking trail into the valley I left them all behind. That was perfectly fine with me; I've had enough of humanity for the week.
Pololu Valley is one of the most beautiful, not to mention spiritually soothing, places on Earth. It's just a completely uninhabited, totally wild, densely forested little valley surrounded by dramatically steep walls that preclude 99% of human souls from bothering to venture into it to experience its majesty. Of course, it's also possible to sail in from the ocean and land on the sprawling black sand beach at the mouth, but the sea is usually much too rough and the waves too intimidating to make landing there anything but too dicey of a thing to plan for. In fact, I discovered a boat washed up on the beach yesterday. It was all in pieces, dozens of little fragments of wood that appeared to have been floating about in the saltwater for quite some time. One of them contained the skeleton of a marine loudspeaker, and I came across several beached cabinet doors, clothes hangers, and other odd miscellaneous items. All of this debris was washed up on only a small section of the beach.
The coast was being positively buffeted by wind. Warm, salty Pacific trade winds, gusting strongly enough to force me to lean into it slightly to properly stroll forward. It felt wonderful. Aside from the constant roar of the ocean right beside me, I could hear the wind whooshing through the ironwood trees that densely forested the lofty dunes just behind the beach. Myriad sea birds announced their presence over those lulling sounds of nature, and that was all I could hear. A fragment of a vivid rainbow was visible in the sky over the sea, as rain clouds made their way closer and closer to shore, and eventually treated me to a nice light shower.
I could have stayed out there much longer and would have, were it not for the expectation that I should be home for dinner.
I don't loathe the holiday, but unfortunately, people just make too big a deal out of it. I am not religious and certainly don't aspire to be, so that eliminates at least half the potential appeal right there. All I really do value it for are the memories of years past, when I was young and naive enough to believe in Santa Claus, and that world peace was achievable. When I got so excited about opening my presents I could barely contain myself, and I could easily lose myself in the majesty of the outdoor lights and a tree filling the house with a warm, colorful glow in the middle of the night.
This year, it simply felt like more of a chore than anything else. What do I get for a retired dad who invests in gold and silver and apparently can buy whatever he feels like having? I don't know, but of course, I feel obligated to place some miscellaneous crap under the tree for everyone. I still enjoy the holiday lights and the fragrance of imported pine in the house and... well, what else? Christmas brings home my brother, whom I seem to have nothing in common with, and whose dirty glance in my direction at the dinner table was the only communication we've shared in years. I got some seasonal employment with UPS, which enabled me to earn a few hundred extra dollars which was certainly worth it, but I can't say much for the environment I had to work in this year. As I had stated in LJ earlier, it's a "culturally homogenized snooty hell hole of golf courses and gated mansions." If all of Hawaii was like that, I wouldn't have anything to do with this place. And of course, there is the shopping. Thousands of consumers stampeding through the stores like cattle, snatching up the best bargains they can find as if they depend on those huge sales for their very survival.
All I really cared for this Christmas was someone to snuggle, or at least enjoy the company of, rather than having to act polite around my family and put up with their various attitudes. Well, maybe next year.
The actual highlight of Christmas day was taking off in the afternoon by myself. Just me, my music, the open road, and the freedom to do whatever I want and voyage wherever I please for the rest of the day. Such therapy. It also just so happened that I wandered right into an intense rain storm, in an area where rain is hardly a common occurence. Rain in the desert is really a special experience, to witness a landscape that is usually bone dry and barren experiencing a total deluge. I savored that for at least an hour before heading back around to the lush, foresty side of the peninsula and traveling down the road until it terminated at the Pololu Valley lookout. Since it was a holiday, the parking lot was infested with tourae, but as I made my way down the steep hiking trail into the valley I left them all behind. That was perfectly fine with me; I've had enough of humanity for the week.
Pololu Valley is one of the most beautiful, not to mention spiritually soothing, places on Earth. It's just a completely uninhabited, totally wild, densely forested little valley surrounded by dramatically steep walls that preclude 99% of human souls from bothering to venture into it to experience its majesty. Of course, it's also possible to sail in from the ocean and land on the sprawling black sand beach at the mouth, but the sea is usually much too rough and the waves too intimidating to make landing there anything but too dicey of a thing to plan for. In fact, I discovered a boat washed up on the beach yesterday. It was all in pieces, dozens of little fragments of wood that appeared to have been floating about in the saltwater for quite some time. One of them contained the skeleton of a marine loudspeaker, and I came across several beached cabinet doors, clothes hangers, and other odd miscellaneous items. All of this debris was washed up on only a small section of the beach.
The coast was being positively buffeted by wind. Warm, salty Pacific trade winds, gusting strongly enough to force me to lean into it slightly to properly stroll forward. It felt wonderful. Aside from the constant roar of the ocean right beside me, I could hear the wind whooshing through the ironwood trees that densely forested the lofty dunes just behind the beach. Myriad sea birds announced their presence over those lulling sounds of nature, and that was all I could hear. A fragment of a vivid rainbow was visible in the sky over the sea, as rain clouds made their way closer and closer to shore, and eventually treated me to a nice light shower.
I could have stayed out there much longer and would have, were it not for the expectation that I should be home for dinner.
Dec 25, 2008
Tribute to Mirrors of the Wolf
I am admittedly impressed with how this blog has endured through the years and weathered all that I've put it through. I've gone through and permanently deleted all the entries in my LJ on several occasions due to fits of paranoia or rage. My old website and its sequel were around for a few years, but that failed the test of time after I decided I simply didn't want to bother working out its many bugs anymore. Truthfully, the main reason I disposed of it was because I had been ignorant enough to include my real name on the front page, and I became gravely concerned that just anyone in the world could look up my real name and be linked to my website, which contained a great deal of personal information and musings about myself I don't want just anyone reading. I'm much better off not including my real name anywhere on this blog, or anywhere online.
I had been under the impression for awhile that I deleted this blog along with everything else. Hence, my completely neglecting it for a couple years. After I finally rediscovered my account and found that all the original posts are still intact, I decided to convert it into a dump for my negative and cynical thoughts, and a place for venting during a bad mood. Just take a look at all the nastiness I've posted. Good thing it's a fairly harmless method of releasing steam.
But yes, nothing of mine online, save for my account at a certain video game discussion forum, has lasted nearly as long as this blog, and for that it deserves my utmost respect. Lifespans for personal content in cyberspace are so incredibly short, yet this is still here for me after all these years. Thank Google.
I usually feel rather mixed about how much I actually want to write about myself and my life. Livejournal usually isn't very conducive for going into great amounts of detail about my experiences; it feels more like a tool to update others on what I've been up to. But here, I feel at liberty to ramble on as much as I please about whatever I feel like, and I should hope it shows. It feels private, secure, and cozy here.
And that's why, for the new year, I would like to get back in the habit of posting. Not just venting, but stories and accounts of what I've recently experienced. It seems I used to be quite a bit more prolific than I am now, but I would like to try to regain at least some of that enthusiasm for describing my adventures and my deepest thoughts and feelings. I know they don't go unappreciated by some readers, anyway, and if for no one else it benefits myself in that it helps me remember what is most worth recalling.
We'll see how it goes, I suppose.
I had been under the impression for awhile that I deleted this blog along with everything else. Hence, my completely neglecting it for a couple years. After I finally rediscovered my account and found that all the original posts are still intact, I decided to convert it into a dump for my negative and cynical thoughts, and a place for venting during a bad mood. Just take a look at all the nastiness I've posted. Good thing it's a fairly harmless method of releasing steam.
But yes, nothing of mine online, save for my account at a certain video game discussion forum, has lasted nearly as long as this blog, and for that it deserves my utmost respect. Lifespans for personal content in cyberspace are so incredibly short, yet this is still here for me after all these years. Thank Google.
I usually feel rather mixed about how much I actually want to write about myself and my life. Livejournal usually isn't very conducive for going into great amounts of detail about my experiences; it feels more like a tool to update others on what I've been up to. But here, I feel at liberty to ramble on as much as I please about whatever I feel like, and I should hope it shows. It feels private, secure, and cozy here.
And that's why, for the new year, I would like to get back in the habit of posting. Not just venting, but stories and accounts of what I've recently experienced. It seems I used to be quite a bit more prolific than I am now, but I would like to try to regain at least some of that enthusiasm for describing my adventures and my deepest thoughts and feelings. I know they don't go unappreciated by some readers, anyway, and if for no one else it benefits myself in that it helps me remember what is most worth recalling.
We'll see how it goes, I suppose.
Sep 25, 2008
Comfort Zone, Act I
Lately, whenever I turn on the TV, I find the programming to be much too 'human-centric.' I wouldn't mind at all if TV mainly consisted of a camera simply following another species of animal and its behaviors. There wouldn't even have to be any narration. If I had the option of paying a dollar a month for just one channel showing such footage constantly, I would. I would enjoy that more than any of the other shit I find on television. After reading Call of the Wild by Jack London, I'm only more inclined to read a story told through the perspective of a dog or some other intelligent animal besides a human. *shrugs* I'm sick of people and their petty bullshit, and how they always focus everything on them. I think I'd much rather watch an informative and intelligent documentary about meerkats or some relatively obscure species of rat than the news, daytime talk shows, shitty aspiring pop stars, or 'Hole in the Wall.'
The misanthropic tendencies that I often feel must be partially bourne out of all the verbal abuse and bullying I suffered throughout childhood for being "strange," and my just feeling like an entirely different animal than humankind most of my life. But that can't be all. Regardless of my personal past experiences, it's impossible for me not to strongly dislike humanity as a unit, and I know many others feel the same. I am unable to love my "fellow man" and I've no desire to try. It just does too many despicable and outrageous things. Considering that the public I have to deal with in my own town is simply a tiny sample of the population at large, I know why I am ashamed rather than proud of this species.
Some might say the Devil is the ultimate corrupting force, but the Devil is simply power. Humanity is charged with a tremendous excess of power but its actions are guided by a tragic lack of wisdom. Not a promising combination. For its own short-term benefit it eliminates hundreds of thousands of other species, scars the very planet on which it depends to survive, and disrupts the natural balance of ecosystems, all of which only comes back to hurt the population in the end. It's just a highly evolved, extremely intricate parasite with funny-looking hats sucking the life force out of the Earth and giving little back but the belches and farts of its factories, machines, and bred-to-be-butchered livestock on broad swatches of deforested land. Maybe once humanity wisens up enough to learn how to live in harmony with the natural environment again, I'll respect it a bit more. Until then, I find hope in more and more people becoming environmentally conscious and taking such small steps as picking up litter, planting trees, or volunteering in animal shelters.
So I may inherently love and respect and admire all other members of all other species, save for my natural enemies who are after my blood or seeking to contaminate my food, but humans are the one exception. I can only love and respect and admire certain, select individuals, the ones that have earned it. For example, Trent Reznor through his vast catalogue of splendid music, and my friends and family for their love and support and simply being their selves. But regardless of what it has accomplished and the marvels it is responsible for, I can't be proud of humanity, any more than I am proud that I have elbows. I'm proud only of my parents for raising me to be a steward of Mother Earth, to respect all animals, and care for and appreciate the natural environment.
I've also realized that I'm not really antisocial. I'm just not too socially inclined or interested in "chit-chat," or meeting bunches of people. I'm awfully introverted, that much is true... but only around humans. With dogs, for instance, I act perfectly natural thinking nothing of it. With people, I can't behave anything close to naturally. They are so touch-phobic, yet they have no problem directing soluble words in my direction all the time. I jump whenever someone touches me, intentionally or accidentally, simply because I'm not used to it. But people talk at me all the time, while I choose to only talk to people. Blabbermouths can really annoy me, while I almost always use speech as a tool, not a pastime. I prefer to maintain a sort of dignified aura of mystery, so it's no wonder I have no interest in facebook or myspace and putting my life up for everyone to see. Anytime anyone asks me if I use either of those, I just say, "never heard of it," and then enjoy the bewildered looks or incredulous comments that ensue.
If people spent more time hugging each other and less time fishing for topics of superficial conversation to cover up perceived 'awkward' moments, the world might be a happier place. No wonder I just sort of naturally fell into the furry niche. It suits me like nothing else ever would, and has been responsible for bringing more love, warmth, joy, security, and genuine companionship into my life than I ever could have imagined years ago. I guess even the most socially estranged have a place somewhere... I'm just glad I discovered mine while I'm still so young.
The misanthropic tendencies that I often feel must be partially bourne out of all the verbal abuse and bullying I suffered throughout childhood for being "strange," and my just feeling like an entirely different animal than humankind most of my life. But that can't be all. Regardless of my personal past experiences, it's impossible for me not to strongly dislike humanity as a unit, and I know many others feel the same. I am unable to love my "fellow man" and I've no desire to try. It just does too many despicable and outrageous things. Considering that the public I have to deal with in my own town is simply a tiny sample of the population at large, I know why I am ashamed rather than proud of this species.
Some might say the Devil is the ultimate corrupting force, but the Devil is simply power. Humanity is charged with a tremendous excess of power but its actions are guided by a tragic lack of wisdom. Not a promising combination. For its own short-term benefit it eliminates hundreds of thousands of other species, scars the very planet on which it depends to survive, and disrupts the natural balance of ecosystems, all of which only comes back to hurt the population in the end. It's just a highly evolved, extremely intricate parasite with funny-looking hats sucking the life force out of the Earth and giving little back but the belches and farts of its factories, machines, and bred-to-be-butchered livestock on broad swatches of deforested land. Maybe once humanity wisens up enough to learn how to live in harmony with the natural environment again, I'll respect it a bit more. Until then, I find hope in more and more people becoming environmentally conscious and taking such small steps as picking up litter, planting trees, or volunteering in animal shelters.
So I may inherently love and respect and admire all other members of all other species, save for my natural enemies who are after my blood or seeking to contaminate my food, but humans are the one exception. I can only love and respect and admire certain, select individuals, the ones that have earned it. For example, Trent Reznor through his vast catalogue of splendid music, and my friends and family for their love and support and simply being their selves. But regardless of what it has accomplished and the marvels it is responsible for, I can't be proud of humanity, any more than I am proud that I have elbows. I'm proud only of my parents for raising me to be a steward of Mother Earth, to respect all animals, and care for and appreciate the natural environment.
I've also realized that I'm not really antisocial. I'm just not too socially inclined or interested in "chit-chat," or meeting bunches of people. I'm awfully introverted, that much is true... but only around humans. With dogs, for instance, I act perfectly natural thinking nothing of it. With people, I can't behave anything close to naturally. They are so touch-phobic, yet they have no problem directing soluble words in my direction all the time. I jump whenever someone touches me, intentionally or accidentally, simply because I'm not used to it. But people talk at me all the time, while I choose to only talk to people. Blabbermouths can really annoy me, while I almost always use speech as a tool, not a pastime. I prefer to maintain a sort of dignified aura of mystery, so it's no wonder I have no interest in facebook or myspace and putting my life up for everyone to see. Anytime anyone asks me if I use either of those, I just say, "never heard of it," and then enjoy the bewildered looks or incredulous comments that ensue.
If people spent more time hugging each other and less time fishing for topics of superficial conversation to cover up perceived 'awkward' moments, the world might be a happier place. No wonder I just sort of naturally fell into the furry niche. It suits me like nothing else ever would, and has been responsible for bringing more love, warmth, joy, security, and genuine companionship into my life than I ever could have imagined years ago. I guess even the most socially estranged have a place somewhere... I'm just glad I discovered mine while I'm still so young.
Sep 21, 2008
It's too early. Go back to bed.
I'm getting tired of all these political sign-holding pricks in my town who wave at you fanatically when you drive to try and get your attention. Hey, standing on the side of the road at 7 a.m. waving at me with one hand and holding a sign bearing the name of your favored candidate with the other is not gonna sway my vote, no matter how toothy your stupid-looking grins are. I just want to get home from a 14 hour shift without being pandered to so obnoxiously. I mean, it's not like I'm gonna vote or care who gets elected. It's all the same, they're all puppets who just want to win for their own sake. Guess that's why it annoys me so much to see all these idiots out there everyday making such a huge fuss over it and trying to distract my attention from the road, not to mention interfering with my taking in the otherwise pretty roadside scenery. It makes me wanna mow 'em down all in a row for thousands of points.
Sep 11, 2008
Ike
A certain storm is responsible for keeping my Lone Star State-trippin' Cubs from playing in Houston for at least the next two days, which means I'll actually have to care about what this one does.
Hurricane Ike appears to be several times the size of Florida. On one of the recent satellite images I saw, he appears to nearly fill up the entire Gulf of Mexico, if you count all his pretty little outer bands as well.
This storm is fantasically huge. Texas don't look so gargantuan no more, ah reckon. Thank Mom for breathtaking acts of nature like these diverting some of the media's attention away from certain other matters. Gives me a reason to look forward to watching the news.
Hurricane Ike appears to be several times the size of Florida. On one of the recent satellite images I saw, he appears to nearly fill up the entire Gulf of Mexico, if you count all his pretty little outer bands as well.
This storm is fantasically huge. Texas don't look so gargantuan no more, ah reckon. Thank Mom for breathtaking acts of nature like these diverting some of the media's attention away from certain other matters. Gives me a reason to look forward to watching the news.
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