I just finished reading Collapsed, our text for Sustainable Development, and now I officially have no hope left for humanity.
I finished my final discussion point for the final chapter in tears. All this to try to get an A in another class. Goodness, am I depressed.
I know I am over-sensitive. It's quite painful to be that way. I seem to be affected more deeply than most souls around me, especially when it comes to things like this. Things that actually matter. Many say being so sensitive makes you less of a man. I say being able to face up to the reality of things and not constantly try to block it out makes one courageous.
Many truly seem to believe that ignorance is bliss. For those who prefer to remain blissfully ignorant, I suggest not reading too far into this book, or this paragraph. It wouldn't be your cup of tea, trust me. Run along and watch Harry Potter. Live in your fantasy, because reality will probably just depress you and give you very little incentive to press on. Take a walk in the sunshine, knowing nothing about the increasing complications posed by the photosynthetic ceiling. Wander through the woods, somehow believing that most of those species belong there and won't be turned into a housing development ten years from now. Breathe in the air, knowing that all those toxic chemicals are manifesting themselves in your lungs, but perhaps not being aware that they are also entering through the pores of your skin, slowly poisoning your dying vessel. Somehow believe that there is a corner of the globe that has not been adversely affected by the human imprint. Believe that technology will solve all our problems, when in fact each invention only introduces its own specific set of problems, forming an endless chain of dreadful links. There is no reason to use a 500-page read to instill in your head a hundred pieces of evidence showing why we are all doomed. We all know that anyhow, it doesn't have to be proven to us. Keep living in your bubble. You're safe there for a limited time. Pay no attention to what a Pulitzer Prize-winning author has to say. Curse your consciousness. Fuhgeddaboutit.
I am going to visit the north point lighthouse later today, but I doubt I will see much beauty. I will see the landscape much differently than I used to. Decay. Dessicated streambeds. Diminished rainfall. Several cattle on ugly, browning converted pastureland contributing their share to global warming. Eroding sea cliffs, exposing in their faces the rusted corpses of old plantation machinery buried inland a number of decades ago. Creeping normalcy. Landscape amnesia. Things change so quickly, yet so slowly for us. Day to day, it seems so gradual. It takes us years to realise how much less snow the mountain has received per year due to global warming. A family looks at photographs of how green their farm used to be twenty years ago, and compares it to the same farm today, their faces suddenly showing signs of shock. Times have changed.
It all happens so gradually for us. Yet, in geological time, humans have arrived and will depart in the bat of an eyelash. A human life is measured in a billionth of a nanosecond.
I probably just shouldn't care. Screw all the sentimental bullshit the human conscious projects onto so many other things. We are all just manifestations of carbon, here today, gone tomorrow, and our existence means nothing. We perform our moves, play the game like everyone else, then expire. We are everything and we are nothing. We are whatever we want to believe we are. Some of us think our God is going to come down and save us.
So then, you might as well believe in something. Whatever justifies your lifestyle and gets you up in the morning. Reincarnation is my belief. I expect to return to Earth as something other than human. Who knows what I may take shape as, though, and who knows what shape the world will be in then. It is romantic to believe I will probably return as a wolf, until I recall that most of the world's wilderness will be completely destroyed. Maybe I would be better off returning as a bee. People love sweet, fragrant things like honey and flowers.
A former acquaintance of mine who just recently committed suicide once shared with me one thing she considered a justification of her bitterness, "nature is dying." My perspective has now coincided directly with hers. It doesn't matter how you choose to interpret it, it's always true at least in one way.
But I care. It justifies who I am, and it is not my choice to make.
Oh, and before I forget, Happy Thanksgiving.
Nov 24, 2005
Nov 23, 2005
Drawing a bloodbath
I enjoy images that provoke. I also love the colour, texture, and symbolism of blood. Not all anthropomorphic art is designed to give you the warm fuzzies.
Though it does bring back memories of a few years ago, when I was walking down the street and happened to witness the outcome of an unattended horse attempting to escape from its trailer. It got its head stuck in the rear door, and ended up severing its neck. Deeply. Potent scarlet blood streamed down steadily from its throat, forming a thick, warm puddle beneath the trailer that slowly trickled down the steep concrete driveway. Most horrific were the gurgling sounds escaping from its throat as it tried to gasp for air, instead sputtering blood all over the cold steel trailer frame. I could see through the haze and the dampness in its eyes the agony and terror it was suffering, confirmed further by the sharp spasms of its body. Its legs dangled uselessly, hooves stirring up the thin layer of straw on the bloody trailer floor. All hope was lost. To watch the life force rapidly drain away from a half decapitated horse was a mesmorising sight. I could smell its ensuing death. The odour offended my nostrils. I pulled myself away and asked the closest neighbours if they knew who owned the horse. They didn't. Eventually the owner showed up and furrowed his brow, speechless as the world around me. I shall never forget the images. His facial expression and inability to utter a word. The river of blood that flowed down the driveway and into the pasture. The couple who passed by slowly in a car, the driver gawking at the scene, the passenger looking down and using her hand to shield herself from the terrifying vision. The horse's last attempt at drawing a breath. All I could do was stare. It was a beautiful and sickening and riveting and embittering and scintillating spectacle of unfathomable cruelty. The animal was dead, its head hanging idly from the trailer like a Christmas stocking from a fireplace mantle.
happy holidays.
Well go on now, go to the supermarket and purchase your pre-packaged, pre-inspected, pre-butchered turkey. Pour some champagne and celebrate your ridiculous American tradition, and give thanks that God has been so kind to you.
Though it does bring back memories of a few years ago, when I was walking down the street and happened to witness the outcome of an unattended horse attempting to escape from its trailer. It got its head stuck in the rear door, and ended up severing its neck. Deeply. Potent scarlet blood streamed down steadily from its throat, forming a thick, warm puddle beneath the trailer that slowly trickled down the steep concrete driveway. Most horrific were the gurgling sounds escaping from its throat as it tried to gasp for air, instead sputtering blood all over the cold steel trailer frame. I could see through the haze and the dampness in its eyes the agony and terror it was suffering, confirmed further by the sharp spasms of its body. Its legs dangled uselessly, hooves stirring up the thin layer of straw on the bloody trailer floor. All hope was lost. To watch the life force rapidly drain away from a half decapitated horse was a mesmorising sight. I could smell its ensuing death. The odour offended my nostrils. I pulled myself away and asked the closest neighbours if they knew who owned the horse. They didn't. Eventually the owner showed up and furrowed his brow, speechless as the world around me. I shall never forget the images. His facial expression and inability to utter a word. The river of blood that flowed down the driveway and into the pasture. The couple who passed by slowly in a car, the driver gawking at the scene, the passenger looking down and using her hand to shield herself from the terrifying vision. The horse's last attempt at drawing a breath. All I could do was stare. It was a beautiful and sickening and riveting and embittering and scintillating spectacle of unfathomable cruelty. The animal was dead, its head hanging idly from the trailer like a Christmas stocking from a fireplace mantle.
happy holidays.
Well go on now, go to the supermarket and purchase your pre-packaged, pre-inspected, pre-butchered turkey. Pour some champagne and celebrate your ridiculous American tradition, and give thanks that God has been so kind to you.
Nov 22, 2005
I abhor the XBOX. I hate everything about it. It is going to be fairly obnoxious to watch all the Microsoft fanboys on the gaming (and non-gaming!) forums rave and rave about how "fucking (censored)" the XBOX 360 is. As a video gamer who has always been fairly passionate about the hobby, I am as jubilant about the release of this system as I am about delivering my statistics presentation on a Monday.
It's not the fact that it's made by Microsoft that gauls me, though it does give me a bonus excuse to not have an ounce of respect for it. It's the library of games that has been confirmed for the system.
If you are not into sports, racing, strategy, or shoot-em-up games, there isn't much else for you. Unfortunately, those are the game genres most players (at least in America) prefer these days. Halo is the scum of the earth, and of course both it and its sequel are on there, along with five Star Wars games and three Tony Hawk games. I'm so excited, I just can't hide it.
I have absolutely no interest in playing games like these, sadly. Or maybe it isn't that sad. I am grateful to have been a kid in an era where video games were actually fun and required much more imagination to play. What if I grew up playing Medal of Honor or Call of Duty? I might just feel compelled (and trained!) enough to sign up for the American armed forces when I'm 18! I'm sure that's the general idea, anyhow. XBOX and XBOX 360 are undoubtedly going to help raise a generation of God-worshipin' country-servin' soldiers with their crappy war simulators. I'm so glad I don't play shit like that. If I had kids I would raise them on games like Ratchet & Clank and Starfox Adventures, old as the games would be by then.
See, I expect video games to take me out of reality, not subject me to a visually stunning simulation of it. That would defeat most of the purpose of playing games for me. While all the cool kids gather around their XBOX and play Grand Theft Auto, blare rap music and drink Coors Light while they wreak havoc on the streets, I will happily gather around my Genesis and immerse myself in Sonic the Hedgehog. Anyone with respectable taste may wish to join me, and would get a gentle fur-snuggle just for demonstrating that they have some good taste and that there is a little hope left for some members of the gaming community.
I just feel at a loss when most gaming-related conversation that occurs around me, whether it be in school, at the mall, or in a restaurant, usually involves discussion about "fucking (censored) graphics," "amazing realism," or "I heard you can actually take a dump anywhere you please in the next Call of Duty." Yes, it's all about simulating real world environments, because those are the coolest, right? Heaven forbid programmers should employ a little more imagination these days, or leave anything up to the player's imagination. I remember when I spent more time playing games and less time waiting for cinema cut scenes to finish.
I am a "retro gamer" in every sense of the term. I play the games that made an impact before games generally started sucking. That's not to say that I won't ever play any more new games, though. Give me a nice platformer involving some furry character, and I will probably gobble it up.
To conclude on a positive note, I saw two different people wearing Sonic the Hedgehog t-shirts at school yesterday. That raised my spirits some, and I complimented both on their good taste.
It's not the fact that it's made by Microsoft that gauls me, though it does give me a bonus excuse to not have an ounce of respect for it. It's the library of games that has been confirmed for the system.
If you are not into sports, racing, strategy, or shoot-em-up games, there isn't much else for you. Unfortunately, those are the game genres most players (at least in America) prefer these days. Halo is the scum of the earth, and of course both it and its sequel are on there, along with five Star Wars games and three Tony Hawk games. I'm so excited, I just can't hide it.
I have absolutely no interest in playing games like these, sadly. Or maybe it isn't that sad. I am grateful to have been a kid in an era where video games were actually fun and required much more imagination to play. What if I grew up playing Medal of Honor or Call of Duty? I might just feel compelled (and trained!) enough to sign up for the American armed forces when I'm 18! I'm sure that's the general idea, anyhow. XBOX and XBOX 360 are undoubtedly going to help raise a generation of God-worshipin' country-servin' soldiers with their crappy war simulators. I'm so glad I don't play shit like that. If I had kids I would raise them on games like Ratchet & Clank and Starfox Adventures, old as the games would be by then.
See, I expect video games to take me out of reality, not subject me to a visually stunning simulation of it. That would defeat most of the purpose of playing games for me. While all the cool kids gather around their XBOX and play Grand Theft Auto, blare rap music and drink Coors Light while they wreak havoc on the streets, I will happily gather around my Genesis and immerse myself in Sonic the Hedgehog. Anyone with respectable taste may wish to join me, and would get a gentle fur-snuggle just for demonstrating that they have some good taste and that there is a little hope left for some members of the gaming community.
I just feel at a loss when most gaming-related conversation that occurs around me, whether it be in school, at the mall, or in a restaurant, usually involves discussion about "fucking (censored) graphics," "amazing realism," or "I heard you can actually take a dump anywhere you please in the next Call of Duty." Yes, it's all about simulating real world environments, because those are the coolest, right? Heaven forbid programmers should employ a little more imagination these days, or leave anything up to the player's imagination. I remember when I spent more time playing games and less time waiting for cinema cut scenes to finish.
I am a "retro gamer" in every sense of the term. I play the games that made an impact before games generally started sucking. That's not to say that I won't ever play any more new games, though. Give me a nice platformer involving some furry character, and I will probably gobble it up.
To conclude on a positive note, I saw two different people wearing Sonic the Hedgehog t-shirts at school yesterday. That raised my spirits some, and I complimented both on their good taste.
http://www.easybib.com/
"By providing us with the information you know about your sources, we can properly format, alphabetize, and print your citation list. We’ve used EasyBib ourselves, and personally vouch for its performance: it cuts down bibliography creation time from one half to two thirds."
No more flipping through a reference catalogue for appropriate MLA citation formats for different media, thank RAYG. This should come in handy for my sustainable development planning thesis which requires 15 peer-reviewed sources. The more manual labour that can be circumvented, the better.
"By providing us with the information you know about your sources, we can properly format, alphabetize, and print your citation list. We’ve used EasyBib ourselves, and personally vouch for its performance: it cuts down bibliography creation time from one half to two thirds."
No more flipping through a reference catalogue for appropriate MLA citation formats for different media, thank RAYG. This should come in handy for my sustainable development planning thesis which requires 15 peer-reviewed sources. The more manual labour that can be circumvented, the better.
Nov 21, 2005
Yellow squash
It's true, people. Bananas do not travel well. Bananas tend to get very squeamish, and often spill their banananical guts out on long trips, quite literally. When will I learn my lesson? Oranges make much better backpacking companions than bananas. Heck, even apples can hold up much better on my rugged excursions.
I kind of felt like this poor guy on the van ride home yesterday:
imploded banana
My innards are spilling out of my peel! AAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Well, detective, the least we can do is show respect and try to salvage his remains. Anyone up for some banana creme pie?"
I kind of felt like this poor guy on the van ride home yesterday:
imploded banana
My innards are spilling out of my peel! AAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Well, detective, the least we can do is show respect and try to salvage his remains. Anyone up for some banana creme pie?"
Nov 20, 2005
Darkness, come take me away.
I'm not sure yet but I think today sucked.
I did somehow manage to rise at 7 in the morning and make it down to the campus bookstore by 8, only to have to wait 40 minutes in the icky morning sunlight for our van to leave for Waipio Valley. Yes, today was the day of my field trip from... well, I shouldn't say hell, but it was indeed characterised by much lameness.
I was feeling disoriented the entire way over, longing for a pillow and a sleeping pill. Naturally, I had only gotten three hours of sleep at most. There is no more awkward time for me to be up and about than 7 to 11 in the morning. Experiences like these remind me just what a luxury it is to be able to sleep through half the day.
I suppose one of the things that bothered me most about the trip was that there was simply too much sun, too much brightness, too much daylight. Too much. It lasted way longer that I am used to. Waking up at 7 as opposed to 12 equates to having to deal with five hours more of daylight, and today, I found that terribly disquieting. My preference for nighttime was completely violated.
I still care very little for being exposed to direct sunlight on warm days, anyway. Sunlight makes my hair itch, my skin feel dirty, and generally gives me an unpleasant feeling of uncleanliness. I feel it's extremely overrated. Same with tans (tanning parlors anyone? Pft.) Of course, it's different up in the mountains, where the cool, dry air actually leaves sunlight to be desired at times. This helps explain why I am such a nocturnal creature. I'll take basking in the moonlight over hanging out in the sunlight any day.
I believe I am quite over-sensitive to light, which is why I had made such a big fuss over installing blackout curtains in my den, and tend to have an evening-oriented schedule. It's also part of the reason I live in Hilo. It was bright and sunny at Waipio the entire time we were there, and also along the entire Hamakua coast. By the time we got back into the Hilo district, though, it was pleasantly overcast as usual. I found that fairly relieving.
Once we arrived at the lookout, they had us walk all the way down that steep, winding road. By the time I reached the valley floor, I had to train myself to walk without leaning back at a 45 degree angle again. That was tough on the legs. The cultural interpreter took us along a rugged trail through the wilderness up to a taro-growing site. Then, he put us all to work, making us fix up a little rock dam which provided irrigation to the taro plots. My job was to be part of a chain where everyone passed rocks to the next person over until they reached the dam. What fun.
To be honest, my instincts compelled me to suddenly break away from the pack and simply do my own thing. I have never been one for such organised group activities. Besides, I knew that not far up the stream, there was a magnificent towering waterfall plunging into a cold, deep pool. I wanted nothing more than to scurry away from everyone and be alone to do some meditating up there.
Unfortunately, I didn't. We just ended up walking back, having lunch, then climbing back up the hill ...in the hot sunlight. By the time I got three quarters of the way, my leg muscles and lungs were on fire and I was a sweaty mess. Did I ever feel disgusting. Not that I am one to complain, and I beat everyone else to the top by a fairly large margin.
The van ride back was ... not particularly entertaining. I was feeling exhausted, not only physically but also of having to be around people for so long. I felt terribly claustrophobic packed inside that van of 13 other students. And when some of the 'guys' started having 'in-depth' conversations about the "nice implants" of some of the "hot chicks" in their classes, I simply shook my head, shrugged my shoulders, plugged in my ear buds, and powered up my music player. **Kisses his iPod** I think it may have just preserved my sanity today, again.
Presently, I just feel strange. Almost jet-lagged. I slept for a good three hours on the floor. Though, I do feel a little more together than I was when I started this entry. I think a little walk or bike ride outside soon might make me feel a little more 'normal' again, and that is what I need... especially if I am going to get myself together enough to do this damn recall assignment the teacher gave us as we were leaving. It is, of course, due tomorrow.
The things I put up with to get an A. Going to a place as beautiful and spiritual as Waipio Valley just isn't the same when I am not free to do as a I please and I feel like I am being guided around on a track. Fortunately, I think this has been my one and only field trip of the semester. Next time I go there, I'm sure I will have tons more fun.
Thank whatever divine gargoyle it's going to be a short week.
I did somehow manage to rise at 7 in the morning and make it down to the campus bookstore by 8, only to have to wait 40 minutes in the icky morning sunlight for our van to leave for Waipio Valley. Yes, today was the day of my field trip from... well, I shouldn't say hell, but it was indeed characterised by much lameness.
I was feeling disoriented the entire way over, longing for a pillow and a sleeping pill. Naturally, I had only gotten three hours of sleep at most. There is no more awkward time for me to be up and about than 7 to 11 in the morning. Experiences like these remind me just what a luxury it is to be able to sleep through half the day.
I suppose one of the things that bothered me most about the trip was that there was simply too much sun, too much brightness, too much daylight. Too much. It lasted way longer that I am used to. Waking up at 7 as opposed to 12 equates to having to deal with five hours more of daylight, and today, I found that terribly disquieting. My preference for nighttime was completely violated.
I still care very little for being exposed to direct sunlight on warm days, anyway. Sunlight makes my hair itch, my skin feel dirty, and generally gives me an unpleasant feeling of uncleanliness. I feel it's extremely overrated. Same with tans (tanning parlors anyone? Pft.) Of course, it's different up in the mountains, where the cool, dry air actually leaves sunlight to be desired at times. This helps explain why I am such a nocturnal creature. I'll take basking in the moonlight over hanging out in the sunlight any day.
I believe I am quite over-sensitive to light, which is why I had made such a big fuss over installing blackout curtains in my den, and tend to have an evening-oriented schedule. It's also part of the reason I live in Hilo. It was bright and sunny at Waipio the entire time we were there, and also along the entire Hamakua coast. By the time we got back into the Hilo district, though, it was pleasantly overcast as usual. I found that fairly relieving.
Once we arrived at the lookout, they had us walk all the way down that steep, winding road. By the time I reached the valley floor, I had to train myself to walk without leaning back at a 45 degree angle again. That was tough on the legs. The cultural interpreter took us along a rugged trail through the wilderness up to a taro-growing site. Then, he put us all to work, making us fix up a little rock dam which provided irrigation to the taro plots. My job was to be part of a chain where everyone passed rocks to the next person over until they reached the dam. What fun.
To be honest, my instincts compelled me to suddenly break away from the pack and simply do my own thing. I have never been one for such organised group activities. Besides, I knew that not far up the stream, there was a magnificent towering waterfall plunging into a cold, deep pool. I wanted nothing more than to scurry away from everyone and be alone to do some meditating up there.
Unfortunately, I didn't. We just ended up walking back, having lunch, then climbing back up the hill ...in the hot sunlight. By the time I got three quarters of the way, my leg muscles and lungs were on fire and I was a sweaty mess. Did I ever feel disgusting. Not that I am one to complain, and I beat everyone else to the top by a fairly large margin.
The van ride back was ... not particularly entertaining. I was feeling exhausted, not only physically but also of having to be around people for so long. I felt terribly claustrophobic packed inside that van of 13 other students. And when some of the 'guys' started having 'in-depth' conversations about the "nice implants" of some of the "hot chicks" in their classes, I simply shook my head, shrugged my shoulders, plugged in my ear buds, and powered up my music player. **Kisses his iPod** I think it may have just preserved my sanity today, again.
Presently, I just feel strange. Almost jet-lagged. I slept for a good three hours on the floor. Though, I do feel a little more together than I was when I started this entry. I think a little walk or bike ride outside soon might make me feel a little more 'normal' again, and that is what I need... especially if I am going to get myself together enough to do this damn recall assignment the teacher gave us as we were leaving. It is, of course, due tomorrow.
The things I put up with to get an A. Going to a place as beautiful and spiritual as Waipio Valley just isn't the same when I am not free to do as a I please and I feel like I am being guided around on a track. Fortunately, I think this has been my one and only field trip of the semester. Next time I go there, I'm sure I will have tons more fun.
Thank whatever divine gargoyle it's going to be a short week.
Nov 19, 2005
Wild Sweet Wild
"What could be worse than San Diego?"
Certainly not Madagascar. I LOVE THIS MOVIE. I viewed it for the first time this evening, and I thought it was splendid. Not only was it a visual and aural delight, but the humour, the originality, the storyline, the characters, it was all so terrific. I wanted to pull Alex out of the tube and snuggle him for awhile, because you know I ain't afraid of no lions, no matter how much steak they're lusting after. Then I wanted to do the same with the lemurs, then the penguins. I knew the penguins would sooner have had me whacked than stand for such a thing, though.
I can tell Madagascar is quickly going to gain status as one of those movies that will warm my heart for years to come. Definitely buying the DVD, so that it will always be available to lose myself in whenever I need it. And I'll always remember the first place I watched it: in a cozy furry den, feasting on egg drop soup, rice, and sushi, in the company of great like-minded friends.
I like to move it, move it. Especially after hearing that song. Everything about it is so delightfully furry. And that's the way I want to be.
Anywho, I am going to prepare myself some hash browns and cheese omelettes, then make a stop at 7-11 for an energy drink and some candy. Then I'll probably hang out at Volcanoes National Park, exploring some lava tubes and trekking out on the lava in the moonlight, greeting the early dawn as I let my spirit have some much needed free roaming in a cool, enchanting setting. Luckily, I have no plans until tomorrow night (going to catch one of the showings of Walk the Line).
Keep your stripes about you, everyone!
Certainly not Madagascar. I LOVE THIS MOVIE. I viewed it for the first time this evening, and I thought it was splendid. Not only was it a visual and aural delight, but the humour, the originality, the storyline, the characters, it was all so terrific. I wanted to pull Alex out of the tube and snuggle him for awhile, because you know I ain't afraid of no lions, no matter how much steak they're lusting after. Then I wanted to do the same with the lemurs, then the penguins. I knew the penguins would sooner have had me whacked than stand for such a thing, though.
I can tell Madagascar is quickly going to gain status as one of those movies that will warm my heart for years to come. Definitely buying the DVD, so that it will always be available to lose myself in whenever I need it. And I'll always remember the first place I watched it: in a cozy furry den, feasting on egg drop soup, rice, and sushi, in the company of great like-minded friends.
I like to move it, move it. Especially after hearing that song. Everything about it is so delightfully furry. And that's the way I want to be.
Anywho, I am going to prepare myself some hash browns and cheese omelettes, then make a stop at 7-11 for an energy drink and some candy. Then I'll probably hang out at Volcanoes National Park, exploring some lava tubes and trekking out on the lava in the moonlight, greeting the early dawn as I let my spirit have some much needed free roaming in a cool, enchanting setting. Luckily, I have no plans until tomorrow night (going to catch one of the showings of Walk the Line).
Keep your stripes about you, everyone!
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