"Poetry was never really my thing"

Is what I'll tell people when I'm grown

Boy: I think that love is like a game of hide and seek. You spend your time looking for someone and hiding from the people you don't like until the right person comes along.
Girl: I think you're wrong.
Boy: So what do you think love is like?
Girl: Love is like russian roulette. It's the gun at your temple. One bullet. And the rest are blanks. You pull the trigger. Hear the gunshot. Feel the recoil.
Boy: And?
Girl: It's a blank. But you're still waiting for the one that's going to blow your mind.


Boy: So am I your bullet?
Girl: No. Just another blank.

So the hardest part about blogging after a looooong hiatus is finding something worthy to blog about. I'm simply not going to be able to do that.

But I did find some random thoughts from balks when I did blog in my balkspalks just now and I think that I can start from there and build up (which seems much more appealing to me as of late anyhow).

So in no particular order, here are the things I was thinking about last summer:

-Karma isn't really that much of a bitch if you really think about it....
-That's hear rending. Nobody should be ready for that. How can you be?
-Friends make a lot of things better. Thanks Phillip.
- (not my thought) *picture of a drum* Thanks Hunter Scott
-Good thing Tasia has a bf now
-I've never wanted something so badly

Habits are formed through rehearsal.

I'm really excited about tonight. Historically, the penguins champion everything, especially with Skyy.

BAM-BAM!!!!

Man, when left to his own devices, can be the bane of his own very existence.

A mind, when left to its own devices, will allow a man to soar before bringing him to his knees.

Deflated

The poem got canned,

The usual lyrics no longer apply,

The downside of creativity

Is not when it runs dry

(The sincerity of rhyme

Is always in question...)

Finding this amid the clouds in your coffee

Or that in the cracks of the sidewalk,

It isn't hard to find your game

Or make up my own rules

I wish it hadn't been so humid today. It was really nice outside, but really muggy. So I opted to spend the majority of my day inside with Ryan playing the original Halo. How all beautiful Saturdays should be spent...

I wrote the title to this post before I even knew what I was gonna put up. I never do that, it's limiting. Only this time it just seemed right.

And besides, despite the morose title I feel better. I know why too, which is always more rewarding.

"There is no way our shirt cured AIDS"

A little more PBS and then time for bed.

W.T.F.

Last summer at band camp and throughout the season, we had the privilege of our very own camera crew. They were filming a documentary about marching band and for some reason decided to use UVa as one of their lead bands. They were French, thus the subject of many cheap jokes but also pretty cool. Partied with us a couple times, I got the hot producer to put out her french cigarette and dance with me at the BOX. Basically, all around chill people.

And then they went and pulled shit like this.

Look at this promo poster:

Do you see that? DO YOU SEE THAT?!

Disgusting...

Filthy isn't it?

Look at all those... all those black people...

Now, ordinarily I wouldn't be mad. I mean hey, instead of making sure their diversity ratio is just PC enough , they just took whatever pictures they had and made a pretty cool collage. Respect, right?

Wrong.

They fucked up on one important detail: They didn't put me in it.

WHAT THE HELL, GUYS! Out of maybe 7 black people in the band, you pick the 6 that aren't ME?! Even Dave Chappelle's on the damn poster...

I say we rise against this fascist corporation of cheap, liberal, European independent film makers and boycott their filth rags. Or at least get a picture of me on one of their promo posters...

Seriously though, I did the math... There was like an 86% chance of me being on that poster. You suck.

"WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?"

Not as emo as it sounds, just a legitimate question i was asked recently.

Old Navy has a really disturbing marketing technique. Talking mannequins. Fusked up....

It's weird, I miss people I've seen today and I miss people who i haven't seen since el charro's. Sad. I can't wait till you come balks.

It seems we living the american dream
But the people highest up got the lowest self esteem
The prettiest people do the ugliest things

Oops

http://www.knifescam.piczo.com/?cr=6

He still gets a little choked up over Tiananmen square

He stood on the crest of the hill overlooking the city. He knew the storm was coming, but he turned his back to it. Not out of fear or direspect, he had quickly learned that those were luxuries that only those destined to fail could afford. He had seen a thousand storms. He wanted to feel a thousand more.

She found him where she left him. Not that she had ever been there before, she just knew better. Her soft smile awoke him from his trance and he looked at her. 

Then they looked at each other.

After a few seconds he found his voice.

"I left it on vibrate for you"

   

More awesome than a robot caveman punching God in the dick.

Push and Butan are best friends forever...

Been an interesting weekend. Which followed an interesting week. Everyone I've talked to about it agrees with me, though.

Which is a waste of my fucking time.

I already know what I think.  It was challenged, and in a more effective way than usual. But everyone around me is telling me the same thing. I know I didn't surround myself with lackeys and yes-men and my friends have always been good about letting me know what's up. I'll find somebody.   

Your first dawn blinded you, left you cursing the day.
Entrance is crucial and it's not without pain.
There's no path to follow, once you're here.
You'll climb up the slide and then you'll slide down the stairs.

It's foreign on this side,
But it feels like I'm home again.

Fable

Once there was a giraffe and a monkey. As far as giraffes go, she was pretty hot. Cool as shit, too. The story of how the giraffe and the monkey started hanging out is long and arduous and I'll save that for another time. But nonetheless, they were cool. They went bowling, went to see concerts, hung out on the weekends. They were in love.

Now the monkey, he was really smart. He basically knew the answer to everyone's problems. He was always right, because he was perfect. Sooo much perfection... Like really, he could do no wrong, like frickin' Jesus. And since he was so perfect, it was his job-no, his duty to convert everyone to his way of thought. For the most part he meant well, but his perfection had a curious way of getting in the way of perfection and fucking a lot of really important things up. Really though, he just wanted to make everything better. He wanted the giraffe happy and in his arms.

Did I mention he was perfect?

Now the giraffe had a really long neck. Sooo much length. That's what giraffes do. Because her neck was so long, the monkey had trouble seeing her face. This upset the monkey, because her face was beautiful no matter what twigs she had in her hair or giraffe food crumbs she had on her lip (what do giraffes eat? leaves of some sort I assume...). It was really hard for the giraffe to bend down and show the monkey her face. It involved a lot of twisting and bending and stressful, uncomfortable situations. The monkey thought it was worth it and because he knew everything always wanted to see her face.

And occasionally she would show it to him.

But a curious thing always happened. Whenever the giraffe contorted and squeezed and bent down to show the monkey her face, the monkey would accidentally kick dirt in her face. It was never on purpose, sometimes he wouldn't even realize he did it (which is weird...I thought he was perfect). But all the giraffe knew is that whenever she bent down, she got dirt kicked in her face. Why go through all that trouble, when you're just gonna get dirt kicked in your face? Besides, it's much easier to just not show your face. We all know that.

So the monkey was really stressed out now. Why did he keep kicking dirt in her face. That wasn't perfect. That was very NOT perfect. The monkey was scared he'd never get to see the giraffe's face again if he didn't stop fucking up. So the monkey thought. And thought and thought and thought.

Then he thought so more.

Nothing.

(The next few pages are missing...I couldn't find them...they'll turn up somewhere though.)

...so now we find the monkey and the giraffe laying undiscovered, making plans, sharing fears, becoming one and having nothing but endless sunshine filled days to look forward to.

That's a story to tell the kids

Ohh noo...

What they get out of the show

60. How frequently do you persuade others to your view of a problem?

The mouse hovers over "Always". 

Dammit

I click "Often" and move on.

I finished filling out my application for books-a-million today. I'm excited to try out the whole "UVa on a resume is a surefire win" theory. I also think that it would be a sweet job. Within walking distance, filled with books, coffee shop in the store. Sounds like a win for me.

Phillip wanted me to come in today and I need the hours, but he wanted to trade and I'm not gonna give a weekend up for a Tuesday. That's madness. 

Hopefully I'll get a chance to play set today, or at least talk to Dennis about mallet arrangements.  I think over the next two years I wanna write a serious arrangement of a combo of Beauty and the Mess and Smoothie Song by Nickel Creek. The percussion ensemble concert only re-affirmed my confidence that it would work really well. Something about "progressive bluegrass" (ugh, every time I see that, let alone say it, I shudder) really carries over with the infamous vibraphone-xylophone combination and with a marimba carrying the bass part I think it should come together nicely. 

At our percussion ensemble concert last month, we had a guest artist. One very eccentric Ed Smith. Phenomenal percussionist. Potential creeper on our instructor who was his old student. Anyhoo, he played a solo that was half improv and half arrangement of Blackbird. It was amazing and completely rekindled my faith in the vibraphone. Now I want to at least attempt to do something similar. Ryan will probably be my major go-to-guy for awhile and it may turn out that I'm not capable of writing at that level and won't be for awhile. Whatever. It should be fun. 

Behind the melody the words don't mean a thing,

but every tone I play will give whatever I've not said away

Side note: Chris Thile of Nickel Creek uses Jameson to "keep his vocal chords relaxed" in the studio. Respect.

Abnegate

If there's always variety in the variables,

Is this the x to end all "why"?

I haven't felt like blogging as of recent, but I was watching Lost (getting mind fucked) and got an urge to write. I thought it was gonna be a monster post, but it turned out to be just what's above. Go figure.

Fragments

I started this the other day and decided to finish it. At 3 in the morning. Oh well...

I have a new hero. 

Like most things in my life, it all started with me watching Sesame Street.

Oscar is about to start Grouch-keteer (sp?) practice when Telly rolls up with some new bitch. Uh-oh. Oscar, who is already grouchy for some inexplicable reason, is not trying to deal with this bitch and doesn't hesitate to tell her. Telly has got her balks though and tries to explain to the Grouch that she would be a valuable asset to the group. Oscar says "prove it" so she pulls out a snare drum and sticks, at which point MY interest is piqued. Then she takes off her shoes. Oscar (who is still really ticked off...I just don't get his problem...) is like "WTF". She tells him that her name is Evelyn Glennie and she's a deaf percussionst. She takes her shoes off to better feel the music. Calling her out to be the lying whore she is, Oscar asks how she can understand what they're saying if she's deaf. She replies that she reads lips. Before Oscar can point out how absurd this is seeing as how he is a puppet whose mouth positions  consist only of open and closed (tee hee), not providing nearly enough variance for someone to be able to distinguish the vast array of words that make up the English language, Telly tells her to shut up and play. She starts to do her thing and of course she's quick nasty.  Oscar's hood-born instincts blind him to the fact that Evelyn is a prevaricating hooker and probably a witch and instead command him to spit that hot fire to her syck beatz. 

Or something like that.

Anyways, I was curious as to why she was influential enough to be on Sesame Street, so I looked her up. She's credited as being the first solo percussionist of the 20th century, commissioning all sorts of pieces, writing her own literature and in general just being an overall badass. She also has written a really good article about how her deafness affects (or doesn't affect) her playing..

Also, I ran across one of the pieces she commissioned balks in 2002. It's a piano/mallet concerto written by some New Zealander titled View From Olympus. In my head, I envision after Ryan and I get our music degrees playing it with some high school band who we suckered into getting them to play it with us. You can listen to the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd movements, if you want. They're pretty sweet.

Also, the number of the day was 17. Go figure.

That such a thing exists

All the things that really stick out to me in my archives are prose. I think I'm gonna try to focus on doing that more often. Should be easier, now that I'm done with school.

So many people have left. Jagabombz is leaving later today. J-town is probably leaving too. It's crazy. My first-year is over...

I debated on whether or not this blog was turning into a shrine. I decided I don't care. Inspiration is inspiration.

It's weird that I'm gonna go home and Kate won't be there.... I miss her.

Apparently I'm not going home until at the soonest, tomorrow. I don't even know what's happening. Not even trying to deal with it.

I need to figure out how to get my hands on a BProject EP. That's my goal for the day.

My heart wants to sing but my mouth can't find the words. How should I tell you that I love you and always will?

BP

SEW THE SEAMS

she was the homecoming, prom queen, couple time pageant winner
Hollywood dreams, anyone could see the passion in her
anyone on God's green earth would've been happy with her
but something snapped with in her

she was carryin the weight of the world tryin to be perfect
over time that weight builds up, now it's a burden
suddenly that weights too much, it starts hurtin
then that weight just can't wait – she's gotta purge it

swears its only one time, promises it won't last
but dammit if it don't feel good to get control back
dammit if it don't beat the hell out of some prozac
but if she looks so good then why's she so sad?

cuz the world eats at her she won't eat back
literally starving for attention but she sees fat
we don't see that, we think she's beautiful
she thinks if she could lose a few we'd love her like they used to do

but we don't know about the hurt in her heart
about spending every day on the verge of a fall
it's like she's livin in the sky but never heard of the stars
like she's fightin for her life but never learned how to spar

we don't know
we can't judge
we're so close
but can't touch
it's just life
it's like that…
…and we don't know about it

[so she looks up in the sky sayin]
the world goes round in circles [it goes round, it goes round]
it all falls square on me [and then it all falls, and then it all falls]
and I try to find some peace of mind
but all I find are broken pieces
and I can't sew the seams

his mama's pride and joy, went to college on a scholarship
god fearin, god bless'em doin what the bible says
stayed away from all the drama and the partying…
…until his world started fallin in
he heard the good die young
never wanted to sin, and then the good died young
first his girl in a car crash, his brother in the war
his father lost his battle with the Devil in His liquid form

now he feels a little scorned, like the world is spittin on'em
everybody near'em's disappearing, God don't listen to him
so he throws a shot back, wishin he could stop that
but misery loves company and he ain't even got that

lookin for comfort at the bottom of the bottle
as if the sorrow wasn't hard enough to swallow
alone his soul burns slow, he wants to let the world know
but they could never understand how much he hurts tho

cuz they don't know about the permanent scars
about praying every day he could return to the start
about livin life like he'd been deserted by God
watchin everybody die just to learn who they are


we don't know
we can't judge
we're so close
but can't touch
it's just life
it's like that…
…and we don't know about it

[so he looks up in the sky sayin]
the world goes round in circles [it goes round, it goes round]
it all falls square on me [and then it all falls, and then it all falls]
and I try to find some peace of mind
but all I find are broken pieces
and I can't sew the seams


I'm hanging by a thread and I want you to know
that I quit caring long ago
and I can't hide behind these walls…
…watch me fall

Good recording. Better live. Even better with a jazz ensemble. 

Best listened to with someone you love.

An Autobiographical Account of a Chain of Events

I am presenting you with an autobiographical account of the chain of events that incited a chaotic, topsy-turvy time in my life. I beg of you to remain within a close proximity for but a scant few moments as I recount how I metamorphosed into the heir apparent of the municipality referred to as Bel-Air, California.

Amidst the occident of Philadelphia I had been sprung to life and had been nourished. A lion's share of my youth and adolescence was consumed by the outdoor entertainment facilities at the park. Carousing with my pals, merrymaking to my maximum ability, and unwinding, I often partook in a friendly match of basketball at the schoolhouse's arena.

It was during one of these excursions that a pair of rabble-rousing fellows instigated malevolence. I took part in nothing but a single skirmish, yet my mother became immersed in fear, at which point she commanded me to transfer my residence from her dwelling to that of my aunt and uncle in Bel-Air, California.

I proceeded to hail a taxi and, upon its arrival, I made out an inscription on the license plate that read "FRESH" and was intrigued by a pair of dice draped over the rearview mirror. If nothing else, a claim could be made that this particular taxi was atypical; however, I came to the conclusion that recollecting this occasion in the future would be a fruitless venture, so in lieu of attempting to implant this incident within my memory, I implored the chauffeur to transport me to my destination of Bel-Air, California.At approximately the seventh or eighth hour, I disembarked and proceeded to inform the driver that I would inevitably become acquainted with his odor at a later point in time.

At this juncture, I beheld my new abode and came to grips with the fact that my mission to become the heir apparent in Bel-Air, California, had been consummated.

Copypasta'd from /b/

The other one

i am amused by pictures,
i've just realized. 
the notion that one might capture drunken mondays
with a flash, some plastic.

how conveneint;
every bright eyed memory that you made 
among friends and frenemies alike will be remembered 
in binary, in technocolor, long after you've lost sight and recollection.

and yet we pose.
leaning, yelling, squatting, redfaced, in ecstatic self-portrait,
mummified?
preserved in perpetuity. oh, the beers we drank 
and the sober boys who handed them to us; oh, the catfights,
the tears cast like spears in violence,
torn dresses; broken, mended friendships:
spiders and wolves in sheep's clothing and sundresses.
would that i might see that bitch in an album, her biting smile,
that i might hate her still, in decade-old jealousy.

-Parker

Amazing as always.

This house screams of memories

I came home wanting to listen to a very specific song. Got to my computer started playing it and realized the drums were way too faded. My computer jack that I connect my stereo to is brokst. This is a tragedy. I don't even know how it got brokst. 

with my bloody lips, and your broken arms, we'll turn into one and we'll sing the same song. with my sinking feet and your heavy heart, no don't you start. no don't you start this again.

Times like these you have to try to not get your hopes up. 

The spirit can handle anything but loathes being tried.

I really hope this weekend works out/I'll do whatever I can to make it work

We are the image of the invisible

-Hell week is over. I'm fine, I didn't have to do anything terribly gay, and for the most part it was fun. I also got to see what a lot of people are made out of. Truth be told, when done right, pledging is one of the most successful manipulations of the human psyche. Going into the process determined to not join a fraternity and seeing where I am now is ridiculous. Put a group of guys through ridiculous shit and they'll either bond or crack. 'Brother' is no longer an exaggeration for me. 

-New rule: Always use infer and imply incorrectly. Just do it.

-I like when people ask me about fraternities and stuff now. I don't know why. This is me inferring that you all should comment on this post

-I had my first encounter with true sleep deprivation both first and second-hand. I think it's worse than starvation. 

-I took a stance and didn't balks down

-The concert was amazing. Damn, I love performing.

-Secret: I still get nervous when I play for audiences

-I got kidnapped by Kelly and was forced to go to practice unprepared. I had to cold read one of the exercises, and even though I learned it relatively fast (fast enough for nobody except andre to know that I didn't know it), I absolutely hate being unprepared. I'm also gonna have to change my technique again. It took me an entire summer to master what I considered a downgrade in technique quality, and now I'm gonna have to learn something entirely new. At least it will be better than both strategies I had been using.

-I'm frickin stoked about next year's line. We're gonna be phenomenal. 

-Time for bed. I might try and eat breakfast tomorrow. Just because. 

Hot Fuss pt 2

Got my paper balks today. The one that was complete bullshit. Got an A-. Yep.

Hocus Pocus

I had liked this song for a while now, I'm down with any song chock-full of guitar, drum, and flute solos (yes, flute solos). 

Matt asked me if I had seen a video of them playing it live . I said I hadn't. Ohh maaan.

I've never wanted to be a rock star more. This guy is AWESOME.

Biggest mystery of the Obama White House

The biggest mystery of the Obama White House's first 100 days has been revealed: The first puppy -- the one that the Washington press corps has been yelping about for months -- is a 6-month-old Portuguese water dog given to Malia and Sasha as a gift by Sen. Edward M. Kennedy. The little guy's name? Bo.

Jesus... Did I really need an email for that? You're doing, Washington Post... 

Don't.

my type of humor

Click on it and make sure to read the text-over

We've learned to run from
Anything uncomfortable
We've tied our pain below 

And no one ever has to know

That inside we're broken
I tried to patch things up again 
To cut my tears and kill my fears
But have I told you how I..

I'm not going 
Cause I've been waiting for a miracle
And I'm not leaving
I won't let you
Let you give up on a miracle
Cause it might save you

It's not faith if you use your eyes

Screw you, Josh Farro.  Think you're better than me?

(I know you're better than me...doesn't mean I can't call you a bitch...but if you want to, feel free to call me...seriously)

(but seriously, if you're trying to be friends...)

Mr. and Mrs. Elliot

"At first Hubert had no idea of marrying Cornelia... one day in the little back room of the shop they had been dancing to the gramophone while her girl friend was in the front of the shop and she had looked up into his eyes and he had kissed her. He could never remember just when it was decided that they were to be married. But they were married."

Hemingway used to always leave me unsettled and I hated him for that. He still does, but I think I appreciate it more. His characters always have some hidden wrong that never gets mentioned and isn't even necessarily evident at first glance. The ability to convey that kind of depth in a two or three page story is remarkable. Kudos to Hemingway.

Embarassed

Finding solace at the bottom of a Solo

Flying solo among friends

It never ends

It never ends

Mayday!!!

born in the flood
bloody fingerpaint sets
blackmarketed 

fresh water canons 

forget me not
epitaph 

airbrush with death
white tee's
wife beaters
button up
reattach flesh

in between the lines
outside of the law
underneath the veil
we dig our foundations
we navigate the globe
trying to find a pattern to break the mold
with a family to feed
there's nowhere we won't go

but what if we're caught
they say I'm a snitch
shot at the check point
found with his throat slit

there's spray paint on the teleprompter
anchorman screams that he's seen a monster
[mayday]
there's bloodstains on his shirt
[mayday]
they say that he's gone berserk

sometimes
when I wanna shut out this world
wanna rip up this page
wanna pour out this heart
wanna get up on this stage
and my lips become percussion
and my fists become the rage
and I pound on this table
till it gives me something to say
then I think about things that I've seen
right in front of me
that I don't wanna believe
gimme one of these mikes
let me let 'em know
the way that it is is not how it's gonna be
not if we don't let 'em get ahead of us
the present tensions no threat

it's just a fence across the path
that we're already ready to walk
rock solid footsteps
let'em put up obstacles
and prove that it is impossible
fuck that
we don't give in anyway
true liberty and freedoms at stake
peace will never become pass
live my life until my last day

it was half-past eight in the bat cave
when the cracks in the plaster collapsed
and gave way to gaps in the pavement
mayday mayday
put it on blast
for the passengers and messengers
cause this is a disaster
where the fuck are the rescue workers

not far
off pissing on a cop car
in the hall with a pop-tart
sipping liquor in the rockbar
everyone climb to the frontline
lunchtimes cancelled
all hands on deck to pull survivors from the landfill
onlookers passers-by brush of your shoulders
shake off that rubble
break free from your standstill

signs of a better world
causes we understand
failures we expected to occur
and bring redemption for our sins
safety from the crowds
in the shadows on the run
we write our own cider house
rules to keep alive
rituals that prove their worth
search for systems we can trust
rhythms we can lock into

this is madness salvage teams
can't bandage
hope when it's damaged
or broken compassion
not enough rope in the van when
world is collapsing
our mode of action
broadcast through the glass
all we can manage
donate with the plastic
scraps from the salad
hoping to balance
emotions invalidated
and staged on 4:3 aspects
just ballast for sadness
lives shattered are standard fare 

for cameras and channels stare 

no abracadabras

no faster answers
or mantras for disasters
remastered and plastered
we got it all backwards
do you know the faction your backing
it's another man down
another mother gone
child drowned
another silenced song
solitude
another kind of strong
I miss you
another strung along
missing in action
another page is blackend burned
turned ashes to ashes
dust off the flags and the caskets

we'll never find another you
despite the life of love we knew
these lightning times are trouble 

who can't count the strikes that punished 

through the bonds we thought would never break
and never will 

and never change 

and never fade
but there's the rage
of losing you to their mistakes

in between the lines
signs of a the next movement
refuge from the crowd
outside of the law
causes we understand
hands that trace
instructions for descendants in the
shadows on the run
underneath the veil
failures we expected to
occur and bring redemption for our sins

in between the lines

Hot Fuss

That felt good. It's nice to be writing something I don't think is total horse shit.

I stayed up last night till about 7 writing a paper for my anthropology class. This class is absurd.

This is the prompt for our essay:

Tonal remembers you all the way back to your birth; nagual is the part of you that was never born and will never die, so it must have anticipated you beforehand, as it is doing now. You are already past the Eagle, but just cannot remember how or why, or what the fuss was all about. Tonal only thinks, and so can only think as if it were acting, that is its only beauty, purpose, or controlled folly in life. Put on your tonal costume and tell us, in precise language, what the fuss was all about.

Yeah. You're probably thinking "Oh, I don't know what tonal and nagual are or what it means to be past the Eagle". The problem is, neither do I. Or anyone else in the class. Apparently if we knew what those things meant, we "wouldn't have to take the class, nor is there any class that can teach what those things mean."

Whatever. If you don't want to not understand what's going on too much, just read the last paragraph. I suspect you can definitely appreciate the finale of my masterpiece.

Fuss?!

The fuss was simply about two things: the inability to define and the inability to use memory to remember. These two shortcomings, being intensities themselves, “frustrate” the essence of nagual creating yet another complexity. The word “define” itself creates immediate problems when trying to articulate the second reality and memory is the brains way of refusing to remember.

The tonal’s sole purpose of existence is to apply meaning to everything we see (and “see”). That means labeling, sorting, categorizing and packaging all our experiences into neat little bundles that our aunts would approve of and breaking them down into bite-size, understandable chunks. When isolated the tonal does just that, running smoothly and seamlessly to interpret our world. But when coupled with the nagual, both inherent and essential to the tonal, things lose their fluidity, their cool. When the tonal encounters nagual, it attempts to define it thereby confining it, transforming it into something reminiscent of the second reality but in truth is just a sham, much like a lengthy paper destroys points and locks meaning in a vowelled cage. This sham comes from the conflicting intensity of thought vs. feeling that says “the nagual by definition has no definition” creating a tonal barrier that prevents the brain from simply accepting the nagual, or “seeing” the first and second realities. The tonal is capable of comprehending the first and even the second reality, but cannot understand the two entwined as they are in totality. The first and second realities are essentially a yin and yang; two separate identities, both with inherent traits belonging to the opposite. Compound this with the yin and yang nature of tonal vs. nagual and you have one hell of a complex intensity. The fuss can be traced back in part to the simple act of attempting to define the indefinable.

Another folly tonal is often susceptive to is that of memory instead of remembering. A memory is not a recollection; rather it is a creation of ideas that often have nothing to do with the thing you are trying to remember. The nagual is immune to this because the nature of the nagual dictates that instead of having to remember things that happen, things often happen to be remembered (or more importantly, appreciated) and the nagual has already anticipated (and thus appreciated) them. Tonal however is not so lucky. If you base all interactions on false memories, than you’re building your house on the San Andreas Fault line. Recapitulation, though tedious, is the only surefire way to overcome the issue of memory and truly remembering their life exactly as it happened. By isolating yourself from the distractions of reality and focusing on the truth, you can see how truth and reality mesh to become something more than the intensities, something pure and unadulterated. Truth in remembrance is imperative to finding your way past the Eagle; you cannot find totality between nagual and false tonal no more than you can make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with peanut butter and catsup. Although recapitulation and “re-remembering” are essential to finding totality, they do not guarantee getting past the Eagle. The problem of memory plays a role in what the fuss is about.

In summary, all the fuss was about definition and remembrance. The humor (the joke, if you will) however is that neither of those issues hinder the nagual in any way. So in reality there was no fuss. The whole fuss was about the fact that there really was no fuss. The nagual, acknowledging the lack of fussiness becomes “frustrated” (I say frustrated for lack of a better word; the nagual would have anticipated this from the beginning and does not react so it could not be frustrated in reaction, it only behaves as though it reacts) by being hindered by the tonal and in turn hinders the tonal. The only difference from a common joke is that we can’t tell the difference and the inability to distinguish the cause and effect creates “thought about feeling” and “feeling about thought” complexities. The fuss was about “doing” to “not do” and vice versa, thinking about it to not think about it. The fuss was about everything and the fuss was about nothing and that’s what all the fuss was about.


Damn. I can't believe it. Firezer's actually has a poem in it. Respect.

At least it gave me an excuse to listen to an awesome CD.

"Her immutable laws had decreed my utter and terrible destruction." Yet here we are, laughing in the face of fate, flaunting happiness, a middle finger to all we're supposed to know and be. Is this a reward? Or is it some cruel way of picking someone up just to kick their legs out from under them, adding humiliation to the hurt. Irrelevant. The twist is that in rising up, you gave the one thing you should have kept. Belief. Honest to goodness faith. And so now, you can do what you like, it doesn't matter.

It's impossible to kick the legs out from under somebody who is flying.

"Incidentally, I never wrote this and you never read it. Complaining doesn't help. Defining a thing in our rough and twisting words pulls it apart, pulls it out of the amorphous aether - reshapes it, locks it in a vowelled cage, and sin of all sins, makes it stick around. Some things are better off left whole and mysterious, sliding away."

Phenomenal writing.

Also, I hope there's a God sitting around somewhere who appreciates irony. All the irony in the world.

Why being a drummer is...advantageous

Sorry I didn't follow through with my promise of a real post on Friday. I got...distracted.

It'll be fine though. It's been awhile since I wrote anything real.On here at least. Oh well.

Two weekends ago.
I went to the beach. $3.5 million house on the beach in Cape Hatteras. From the front of the house you could see the ferry docks and from the balks you could see the beach (It took me awhile to actually understand what a cape was, but I feel like it's fine now). The house was 4 stories. It had a pool, two hot tubs, a movie theater, 17,000 luxurious bedrooms, and a frickin' elevator. It might have been the most gorgeous house I've been in. There were 23 people there, and everybody got along perfectly. There was no superfluous drama, just people hanging out and enjoying each others company.

In short, it should've been absolutely amazing. And to an extent, it was. But the whole picture was missing something. Even though I had a good time, it could've been so much better. Soooo much better.

Flash balks to the real world. Other than the lineup, the week was pretty monotonous. I ended up going out Thursday and bringing home a traffic cone. Worth it.

Friday, I got a text around 4:30.

"Abduction in 5 minutes. Black car out front."

Alright, I don't have anything better to do.

6 minutes later, I'm in the trunk of Kyle's car as he's whipping around Oakhurst circle. I end up hanging out with them for the rest of the night. Somebody discovered a Natty gold mine; $7/case at Harris Teeter. The fridge is full. We geek out and re-create Star Wars battles (Death Star, Endor, and the one with the ATATs and the ATSTs in the snow). To avoid making poor decisions, I put my phone on the table and check on it periodically. At around quarter till midnight I check my phone and see I have 4 or 5 missed calls. From Molly. I call her balks.

"Hey, so I'm like 15 miles away right now..."

Words no longer do this story justice. I guess you just had to be there.

I've never been so content with waking up at 6:30 in the morning. Ever. I've also never been so satisfied with/by a lot of other things (ohh maaan).

It was good to know I was even more right about things than I (could've possibly hoped for) thought.

Don't be mad. Or quasi-mad.

"On a scale of 1 to Kate Perry, how badly do you want to kiss me right now?"
Respect

That's unfortunate...

Try not to lose...

Philosoraptor

If a tree falls in the forest, can I still eat my children?

An Aria

Took my mind with your malice
It's the final time to go
I was on the corner, running still
Fight the anger, fight the leaves
It was autumn of my love
All the thoughts and moments winding down
So wait, again
Don't find the lies that answer
So wait, again
Don't hurt me by, hurt me by
So make, again
A dime-a-dozen love clichés
And feel the night we sang
October dulls, it dulls too soon
The lonely calling of the cars
Beating their way amongst highways
I'll find my way to them
The smell of memory and touch
Another visceral excuse to take
Another drink alone
So wait, again
Don't find the lies that answer
So wait, again
Don't hurt me by, hurt me by
So make, again
A dime-a-dozen love clichés
And feel the night we sang
Just find the moment
It's not coming back again
Your hair, it danced in summer wind
Just break the surface
I don't really know
The meaning, cause, and attributes of fall
So wait, again
Don't find the lies that answer
So wait, again
Don't hurt me by, hurt me by
So make, again
A dime-a-dozen love clichés
And feel the night we sang
Just find the moment
It's not coming back again
Your hair, it danced in summer wind
Just break the surface
I don't really know
The meaning, cause, and attributes of fall

I'll work up the initiative to write a real post later tonight, I think.

Memories

Sorry, dedicated blog readers. The blogification juices haven't been flowing as freely lately. Bear with me.

I don't know why I'm pretending like I'm awake right now... because I'm not.

You know those notes on facebook where you're supposed to leave one memory that you and the note writer share. I've always wanted to fabricate a memory and then guilt trip them for not remembering it, but never took the initiative. Until now. Sort of.

Leave one memory in the comments section of this post. It can be happy, funny, or sad. Just make sure it's relevant, awesome and most importantly, completely made up.

That's right. I don't want real memories. Waste of my time. So tell me something I couldn't possibly know. Extra points if you convince me it actually did happen.

Do the Dew

I know you do the dew...





but dooon't.

From a champ

FIREZER:
donnnt
you did 11 hours ago on your status
undo the do and dont


you just did again
you have two dos to undo
or two dos to dont
DOOOONT
-2:04 Wed, Match 11
Facebook

hmm...

Maybe I SHOULD get a haircut...

Wit

So I was looking over old blog posts, and I've realized something.

I'm really funny. Like, soooo funny. And clever. I'm the next frickin' Seth MacFarlane.

But seriously, you guys are lucky I even let you read this stuff without charging a fee.

Damn, I'm funny...

Can't stop

I started a post earlier today about all the things I wanted to write about last week. But I'll finish that later.

More importantly, IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL OUTSIDE!

I can't handle my life. Today was expected to suck really hard, but its turned out really nice. I'm so incredibly giddy, I'm reminded of everything that makes me love this place and it's only gonna better.

Music choice has helped a lot, too. Props to RHCP for an awesome pseudo-summer-but-really-it's-hardly-even-spring anthem. And I'm talking about the awesome version with the guitar solo at the beginning on iTunes, not the gay shit they put on their album.

Pent-up

I was just trying to look at some pics on facebook while consuming copious amounts of water before I went balks to sleep and what do you know, somebody facebook chats me. This sucks, right? I'm just trying to go to sleep.

False. It's Jon Covel.

He was in Greece. Now he's in Turkey? And I think he's going to Mars during the summer. What a champ.

There was a cool article in Rocktown that I read. I'll probably write about it later.

Whenever I was a little kid, I would call people and as soon as they would say "hello" I would tell them/ask them whatever i called to ask/tell them. My mom said that was rude. So now whenever I call people, I always ask them how they're doing with the least amount of sincerity I can muster. It's actually depressing how ingrained the habit is. Even if I'm talking to somebody I really care about, I don't actually listen to how they respond. If I really want to know, I'll ask again later in the conversation. Oops. I'm gonna try and work on that.

Spreak was really good. Sooooooo good.

Watchmen was awesome. Would have been better had it a)had more of a message to offer at the end or b) been a little shorter. At three hours of my life, I wanna at least pretend i'm a better person for seeing it.

People tried to not have good days and include me in their not-having of the good days. I refuse to let them tell me how to live my life.

If I ever write a song, I might call it "memories and metaphors". I like it b/c it's part irony, part spite and part love. I think I'm gonna take a poetry class or something.

I might have something more focused to say later, but right now I'm doing. I need to undo. So don't.

"His brain is always on shuffle"

Apparently I'm not welcome at my house anymore. I got home and my little brother was pissed that I put my stuff in "my" room. Because now it's his room. When I went to grab clothes, I realized they were no longer in my closet or my drawers. All my hardware is gone. The password on the computer is changed and she won't even tell me what it is. WTF.


Whatever. It's good to be balks. Like, really good.

I tried to have a snow moment last night, because I was jealous. Actually I tried twice, but the first time I got called a creeper. I failed the second time also, but it ended up being a moment in itself so I'm kind of OK with it.

I hate orange streetlights. They make everything seem so harsh, which is only compounded by the snow. One thing I am grateful for though is the contrast it can provide. Or the way it scatters through bare tree branches and frost covered windows.

This morning, one of the guys on TV3 said the best advice they could give was to curl up in a warm blanket with a cup of cocoa and enjoy... and then he sort of stuttered and was like "well...yeah, that's the best advice I can give... balks to you, George" (it wasn't George...where the hell is George?). I like to think that what he was going to say was something to the effect of "enjoy the company of the people you love". So yes, guy who sucks at keeping your personal thoughts separated from your job, I think I'm gonna try to do just that. We'll see how things play out.

I am not OK with destroying people. Especially over things that in the grand scheme probably mean jack shit. I shouldn't have said that b/c it wasn't true. I wanted to pretend I didn't give a shit. And honestly, to an extent I don't. But humans deserve to not be treated like shit by other people, they can get plenty of that elsewhere. So I'll simmer down and be a better person to somebody who just wanted to be a person.



I thought I was good at helping people. And maybe I am. But I can't fix things or people, simply b/c it's not my place. When I said I was a good listener I meant it, but I forgot what that actually entailed. Most of the time, "listening" actually meant relating. We like to hear other people put words to our identical thoughts (I spent over 3 hours doing just that with Dan-sturbia and Kyle, and it was one of the more satisfying conversations I've had recently). That's not always the case though, and I lost sight of that (or maybe I never knew). That at least in part explains a horribly failed email.


if we appreciate the truths before us, we can understand
the Truth
that exists beyond us:behind us:

because of us.
spirituality is as physical as it is spiritual. God is the pleasure
of living, He is the satisfaction you will derive from
understanding how precious this is.
how special this is. can't you see His people?
the people who share theirs when yours is lost.
the people who care when you are hurt, who
are sad because you are sad.

beautiful in all her forms

appreciation and euphoria are the only just rewards;
truest rapture is reciprocity.

the voices of angels will light the shadows of dusk
with dawn's brilliance; when we love physically and spiritually
and completely,
and unashamedly, we will know their voices. and through them,
we will know God.

"the wind helped me remember"

So lately I haven't been writing much. Partially because I've been doing a lot of other things. But also because I had trouble writing for a bit. I had been telling myself that it was because words suck, but I'm starting to think it was more than that...

I should start walking places by myself more often. It's so easy to get caught up in everything that's happening in college that you forget to just think. I keep finding myself realizing that I haven't thought anything just for the sake of thought, and that's disconcerting. When I'm by myself I can zone out, think about nothing with a dash of everything . And I think that's important to my sanity.

I was on my way to Oakhurst to watch Lost, only wearing sweats, my red zip-up and flippy-floppies. The wind was blowing hard, but I didn't mind. For some reason it reminded me I was a person. I wouldn't say it was cathartic, but it was interesting nonetheless.

I was gonna tell people that instead of blogging the past few days, I had been writing things for myself. That's not true. With the exception of a failed email, I haven't written anything. I certainly had been thinking a lot, but not writing. Putting the thoughts on paper would've been more like drawing than writing though; I only know so many words for circle.

To Do Lists

Yetser-Yesterday's to do list:

-Wake balks in time for class

-Convince teacher to let me live my life

-Call mom

-Take nap

-Do Laundry

-Do Psych

-Pretend likeI keep my room cleaner than I actually do

-Talk to Molly

-Receive e-mail

-*Put foot in mouth*

-Castle

Yesterday's:

-Wake balks

-Class

-Laundry I didn't do yesterday

-Set-up for party

-Foodz

-Oakhurst

-Boats 'N Ho's 

-Got to have me my boats 'n ho's

-Oakhurst round two

-Dansturbia bonding

-Sleeping in Firezer's bed

Today

-Wake balks absurdly early (hence why i'm up at 8:15)

-Go balks to Theta Chi and clean 

-Come balks to dorm and go balks to sleep

-Wake balks 

-Roam around the dorm with child-like anticipatory glee

-OHHHH MAAAAAAAN

-Little John's with Moll-skee, Jagabombz and Jagabomblet

-Rugby House (potential Oakhurst visit)

-Lay entwined, undiscovered

-Make plans

-Share fears

-Mesh smiles

-Become an us

So that's why...

Article reprinted below for educational purposes.

(I've always wanted to say that)

Last week, I enlisted Slate readers to help divine how Facebook's "25 Random Things About Me" trend got started. More than 3,000 of you responded, answering queries on when you first saw a "25 Things" note, when you were first tagged, and when (if ever) you wrote your own note. On one level, the survey was a failure: I had hoped to find the trend's Patient Zero, but there's likely no single person who conceived of this scheme. But the absence of a singular "25 Things" creator reveals something much more interesting: Facebook organisms are not created by intelligent design. They evolve.


The idea that culture spreads in biological ways has been around for a while. Richard Dawkins coined the term meme in 1976's The Selfish Gene to describe how ideas propagate according to evolutionary principles of mutation and selection. A quantitative study of the "25 Things" letter seems to ratify that.

As many readers noted in our survey, "25 Things" wasn't always "25 Things." Late last fall, a chain letter titled "16 Random Things About Me" began to chew its way through Facebook. The author of one of these notes would itemize her personality into "16 random things, facts, habits, or goals," then tag 16 friends who would be prompted to write their own lists. And so on and so on. Similar navel-gazing letters had popped up over the years through e-mail and on blogs, MySpace, Friendster, and the venerable blogging site LiveJournal. The Facebook strain had a good run, but by the end of 2008 it appeared to have stagnated.


Then something curious happened: It mutated. Since everyone who participates is supposed to paste the original instructions into her own note, it's easy to tinker with the rules. Soon enough, 16 things (and 16 tagged friends) morphed into 15—and 17 and 22 and 35 and even 100. As the structure crumbled, more users toyed with the boundaries. Like any disease, "Random Things" was mutating in hopes of finding a strain that uniquely suited its host. In this case, the right number was vital to its survival: The more people who are tagged, the more likely the note is to spread. The longer the list, though, the more daunting it is to compose and the fewer participants will be roped in.


By mid-to-late January, "25 Random Things About Me" had warded off its competitors. Once the letter settled on 25 things (a perfect square, just like 16) the phenomenon exploded. The data we collected reveal a clear tipping point around this time.


As the graph below indicates (Fig. 1), the number of people swept up in the trend climbed steeply for a week starting around Jan. 20, peaking in the last days of the month before declining sharply. Not coincidentally, the Web analytics firm Compete reports that January 2009 was one of Facebook's biggest months for traffic growth.

(imagine the graph)


A graph of when people wrote their own 25 Things note (Fig. 2) forms a very similar curve.


(imagine the second graph with a notably similar curve to the first graph you imagined)


Since I'm no evolutionary expert, I shipped Slate's data to Lauren Ancel Meyers, a biology professor at the University of Texas who models the spread of infectious diseases mathematically. Meyers says that around Day 39 of Fig. 1, we see the "classic exponential growth of an epidemic curve." (Day 39 in this graph is Jan. 8.) She also explains that "25 Things" authors can be seen as "contagious" under what's known as a "susceptible-infected-recovered" model for the spread of disease. Think of "25 Things" authors as being contagious for one day—the day they tag a bunch of their friends. Meyers found that, for that one day, the growth parameter of the "25 Things" disease during its ascent phase (roughly until the beginning of February) was 0.27. This means that, on average, each "25 Things" writer inspired 1.27 new notes.


Another one of our survey questions considered the average number of days between when a person is tagged and when she writes a note. Those results are graphed here.


(you know the drill)


The highest percentage of respondents—17 percent of those who wrote a note—composed their missive the same day they were first tagged. The numbers decay from there, and the median value is three days. Meyers found that this too was best described exponentially, though the figures decline instead of increase over time. You can think of it like radioactive decay. In the same way that, say, Thorium-231 atoms have about a 50 percent chance of decaying each day, regardless of how many days they've been around, people tagged in a "25 Things" note do not become more or less likely to participate as time passes. Meyers does note, however, that these calculations do not factor in individuals who choose not to participate or have yet to do so.


Why does it appear that the "25 Things" fad has died out? One could argue that a selection bias in Slate's data are exaggerating the decline, as those who haven't yet encountered the meme are likely underrepresented. I don't think this is the case, though. As we see in Fig. 3, most people write their notes within a week of being tagged for the first time. The decline we see in Figures 1 and 2, then, is likely legitimate: Because the fad peaked more than 10 days ago, it's unlikely that there is a large number of people who've been tagged who are still waiting to write their own note. My guess is that, like a Ponzi scheme, "25 Things" fizzled as soon as Facebook ran out of willing participants. Anecdotally, there don't seem to be a lot of people left who are sitting around, waiting to be tagged.


All in all, Facebook infections look remarkably similar to human ones. And like organisms, the odds do seem stacked against all but the fittest of memes. The "Notes" application—including the ability to tags friends—has been a feature of Facebook since August 2006, a Facebook spokeswoman told me on Tuesday. (The PR rep also confirmed that Facebook itself had no part in sparking the trend.) The fact that it took two-and-a-half years for a Notes-based meme to hit it big suggests long odds.


Still, viral marketers might take note of the patterns that "25 Random Things About Me" obeyed. The best hope for someone looking to start a grass-roots craze is to introduce a wide variety of schemes into the wild and pray like hell that one of them evolves into a virulent meme. If evolution is any guide, however, there's no predicting what succeeds and what doesn't. Just look at the platypus.

Better than numbers.

a)Firezer is possibly the most legit roommate I could have possibly had. Ever.

b)I never remember the good blog topics

c)I've played Pokemon recently. Probably too recently. Probably yesterday.

d)I also tried to play another old favorite, but couldn't figure out how to make the fucking emulator work. Screw technology.

e)I honestly was not expecting to miss anybody as much as I do.

f)I've had two nosebleeds today. Before that, I hadn't had a nosebleed in years.

g)I'm doing exactly what everyone said I would do in college: abusing my freedom. It's just now starting to catch up with me, and sometimes I wonder if I've dug myself in too deep.

h)Fairly recently (but I keep getting the feeling that I've known for awhile) my priorities shifted. Drastically. And some things are just not as important as others. I've always tried to do things that made me happy and this is no exception.

i)Yeah, that's why I'm paying for it.

j)It's all in the detail. For me, random small things can be just as good as the big things.

k)She put the perfect picture in the frame, but I don't know if she knows why it's the perfect one. If she does...

l)Abe Lincoln died of getting hammered in the ass. If you don't believe me, watch this

m)There's a maestro that watches me when I sleep.

n)My room is constantly littered with water bottles and nerf darts.

o)I love third person personal pronouns. Heh.

p)My professor hinted that I might need to smoke weed to do well in his class.

q)I want to work for the CIA.

r)My big brother sucks at pong

s)I figured out the emulator and it's as cool as I could've hoped for

t)I haven't been this excited about a weekend since last weekend (Ohhhhh maaaaaaaaaan). But seriously, somehow I'm even more excited.

u)I'm not good at telling people I miss them and I think sometimes they take it personally. I think you should all apply/transfer to UVa. And then live in my house.

v)I love hearing people say "balks"

w)I've gotten pretty good at making people hesitate to use the word "come" (on my face)

x)Get over yourself. Sometimes there's a bandwagon b/c somebody had a good idea.

y)If you fail to handle a real-life situation like a real person, I won't feel bad about destroying you. I'll give you plenty of chances, but yeah, that's why you payin for it.

Lets fly to Jupiter

Lets not forget the rings
We lost them in the smoke
No really, no joke
lets fly to Jupiter
where smoke is red like fire
I swear I want to fly
I swear the smoke is clear
seriously Jupiter is hot

I don't want take balks, I wanna wake balks

What i realized that I deserve, is something concrete. Something stable. Something that I can lean on when I'm tired. A passion I can strive for despite my lack of energy. The feeling of absolute contentment despite getting drained at the end of the day. Maybe it's not something I can take home, but something I can go home to.

The weekend seems so long ago.

I think I'm gonna do another 25 things. Later, though. I got shit to do.

Hello, Good Friend

F you Bryce Avary.

Who do you think you are, writing and producing your albums completely by yourself?

Asshole.

Seriously though, the Rocket Summer is gonna make me pee myself one day. Damn. A couple of his songs have been really getting to me lately. Ohhhhh maaaaaaan.



I'm aware that this comparison might be a little blasphemous. I'd like to invoke my right to interpretational relevance.

"Never Knew"

I just ran into a few someone's today
Someone's that I never really knew
And I used to think how I had them all so figured out

But no, none of it's true 'cause I never knew you
and now the truth of it is, is I wanna be like you
So hello, good friend, I wanna be next to you
For my head, for my heart, for what's true

So I'm burning the thoughts of the things that I once said
Because you tore down the walls that the world has put inside my head
And I just get sick of the things that we think, we think we know

And no, none of it's true 'cause I never knew you
and now the truth of it is, is I wanna be like you
So hello, good friend, I wanna be next to you
For my head, for my heart, for what's true

So take me and save me and change me and then make me
And embrace me and then brave my heart for you
No, no, 'cause I can't go on without you
And it's time for something new oh oh

And no, none of it's true 'cause I never knew you
and now the truth of it is, is I wanna be like you
So hello, good friend, I wanna be next to you
For my head, for my heart, for what's true

And as they strolled along
My heart broke out in song
From all the things and the thoughts and assumptions that I had wrong
So now I'll be on my way to make this claim
I'll make it famous in every way
I'll make it stay when I will say that...

No, none of it's true 'cause I never knew you
and now the truth of it is, is I wanna be like you
So hello, good friend, I wanna be next to you
For my head, for my heart, for what's true

Oh oh no, none of it's true 'cause I never knew you
and now the truth of it is, is I wanna be like you
So hello, good friend, I wanna be next to you
For my head, for my heart, for what's true

Oh no no no, none of it's true 'cause I never knew you
and now the truth of it is, is I wanna be, wanna be like you
So hello, good friend, I wanna be next to you
For my head, for my heart, for what's true

Oh maaaan!

Just because I say that there's no way I can explain using words doesn't mean I'm not gonna keep trying. Because maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I can get it right, or at least get close. And I'm not gonna let myself (tell myself how to live...) take the cop out route by just giving up and possibly missing the chance to explain what means so much to me.

The surprise was incredibly presumptuous.

The surprise was so perfect, I was literally speechless.

Oh maaaaan...

How do you handle the end of a weekend like that?

First, you lie to yourself.
"You'll definitely see her again in the future. It's only a matter of time"

If there's anyone who can tell you about the impossibility of that guarantee, the fleeting permanence of life, it's her.

After reality slaps you around a little bit, you're forced to be real with yourself.
"Everything I've done, everything I can do leads me balks to her. All my decisions have led me to this point, therefore I have no regrets. Now I can only hope."

So you call her. You think about her. Sometimes you get goofy ideas and decide to follow them. Goofy ideas end you up at graph-making websites or outside windows throwing rocks. It's not the same as her being there. But you cope. Usually.

Souvenirs help.

Toga party

"Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than suffering itself, and that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams."
-Paulo Coelho

While I think the second half of that statement is complete shit, I'm starting to come to terms with the first part. I think it's nicely complimented by:

"Knowledge is gained through experience, but wisdom is gained through suffering"

An interesting start to my week, but things are getting better and the weekend looks really promising.

Damn, I hope this works.

Off to the shower.

Graphs are really effective

My friend is considering starting a blog but is a little hesitant. I decided to make a composite of graphs to help her see things more clearly.







Notes for the fist graph:
-You know you're going to want to allude to everyone about Saturday and what better way to do it than on your blog?
-Stumble is not compatible with Google Chrome and therefore stupid
-Nobody ever blogs about your wife, so you could definitely pioneer that.
-The blue slice is ironic and it makes me chuckle.

Notes for the second graph
-Clearly, your happiness will more than double if you get a blog. That much is evident.
-What is more difficult to elucidate from this graph is your relative success in life, but let me put it to you like this: What do you want to be when you grow up?


I think my job is done.

Happy Land

Props to Firezer

Bid Night

Theta Chi is technically a dry frat. Technically.

I've heard many things about bid night. Even people who don't rush or don't pledge, say that bid night is one of the best nights of the year. And pledges get the VIP treatment.

During second invites, I talked to one of the guys about bid night and he said "Lemme tell you this: you're not going to remember anything after the showers."

What? Showers?! Hmmm...

Today, when they told us to come by, they told us to make sure we brought a change of clothes and a towel. I guess that's better than a banana and a bottle of lotion...

Should be an interesting night.

"Thetachi"

Xi Chapter
of
Theta Chi Fraternity
formally extends
Rodell Tolliver
a bid to become a
member of our
Brotherhood


"You ready"
"Lemme put a shirt on"
Mackenzie half pushes/half carries me to the front door and tells me to wait on the steps in the foyer. There's a dull roar outside, much like the sound of a train in the distance. As Mackenzie cracks the door open, the roar turns into a chant. He shuts the door again quickly.
"Alright, just run out there."
I wipe the sleep out of my eyes, take 1-3 deep breaths and charge the door.

Sunlight hits my face, filtered through the leafless trees. A cool breeze ruffles my t-shirt, lifting it from my body. Shadows dance like lilliputian gypsies on...


the face of the guy that's about to rock me.
I get pushed into a mosh put of dudes in blazers chanting my name. After about ten seconds of typical guy roughhousing, they lift me up and throw me in the air three times. I got air, because yes, I am in fact a champion..

After they set me down, the circle widened a bit.
Michael starts.

"The Xi chapter of blah-blah-blah extends blah-blah-blah bend over (what?!) blah-blah-blah. You have two choices."

"ONE CHOICE" the brothers all yell in unison, reminding me there is in fact a correct answer to the question.

"You can choose to come to the house tonight at 7 and accept our bid, or you can accept here on the spot."

Well, I already know my decision. No point in wasting time.

Theta Chi till I die, baby.

Everything is better with a visual aid...

Some notes...

-This is a legitimate graph.
-Yes, I have a balks up. I'd be crazy not to.
-Apparently, Regina Spektor is a lesbian. Fuck that.
-Marrying some random person you don't know is a horrible idea. Why is that even an option?
-By "projected success", I mean a combination of how likely it is to happen and how happy it would make me. However, the equations and algorithms I used to deduce the particular combination are way too complex for common folk (such as yourself) to understand. I recommend picking which ever one makes you happier and sticking to that.
-This graph isn't just for the people mentioned in the graph. Also, if you haven't been included in this graph, maybe you should think about how to do a better job next time. Just saying.

Spooky

Drawing up innocent pictures of longed after loved ones
When everyone's gone you'll pretend that you're with me
Preparing yourself for what none can prepare for
You, you gave me everything
Giving up anything, keeping us moving
And if my heart's companion is longing for someone, keep beating
Never stop moving
Unspeakable beauty
Your skin gleams like marble
Your character flaws are my character's treasures
When everyone's gone, I pretend that I'm with you
Don't change your character flaws; don't change
You, you gave me everything
Giving up anything, keeping us moving
And if my hearts companion is longing for someone, keep beating
Never stop moving

Thanks, Tragedy Letters...

With

I wanna go star watching with her some time . Not star gazing; gazing requires attention that I most definitely will not have in her presence. But star watching would be nice. So would a long car ride. Preferably within the legal speed range... But I'm not too picky.

There are a couple conversations I want to have and a couple movies I want to watch. There are also a couple minutes of time I just want to spend around her. No talking. Just presence.

I guess the key word is "with".

Hmm.

My Experiment

So if you read one of my first posts, I talked about blogging and how weird a phenomena it was. Why do people want to broadcast personal thoughts to billions of strangers over the internet? Is it comforting to know that someone out there may possibly identify with you? I don't know.

So I tried it out. Today in psych, our professor asked us to write whether we were male or female and then a ridiculous thought that surprised us. It was anonymous, so anything was fair game. I wrote my personal thought, folded my paper, and handed it to the right (my own, collegiate "puff, puff, pass").

As the professor read mine aloud, I anticipated a wave of...something. Maybe relief. Maybe anxiety. Maybe a mixture of both.

But I didn't expect apathy. Which is exactly what happened. Cool, he read it aloud. Didn't tell anybody anything, didn't change anything, so I didn't care. Which makes sense; I should have known that all along. Telling strangers secrets isn't therapeutic, at least not for me. Especially when you don't get any feedbalks from said strangers.

So I guess this blog isn't an attempt to reach out to random kindred souls, but is just another way to share with your friends. To communicate in a new, unique, scene way.

Worth it? We'll see.

AOL sucks

Balks a couple years ago, AOL accidentally released about 3 months of search logs from their AOL Search Engine users. They're all over the internet now and people have taken the liberty of sorting through them for the best. If you're in for a good laugh or to be disgusted with the human race, click here.


See if you can guess my favorite.

Hint: I've always wanted X-ray vision.

Blogging

All the cool people are doing it. Where are you at?

Aggressively we all defend the role we play
Regrettably time’s come to send you on your way
We’ve seen it all
bonfires of trust
flash floods of pain

It doesn’t really matter don’t you worry it’ll all work out
No it doesn’t even matter don’t you worry what it’s all about

We hope you enjoyed your stay
It’s good to have you with us, even if it’s just for the day
We hope you enjoyed your stay
Outside the sun is shining, seems like heaven ain’t far away
It’s good to have you with us
Even if it’s just for the day

Outside the sun is shining, seems like heaven ain’t far away

Songs rarely make me feel better. But this song makes me feel and sometimes that's all it takes. But then again, we probably have nothing in common...

Rush

This was an old draft that i'm just now posting. I had reasons for not posting this, but I've ceased to care about them.

So the past weeks many events are starting to run together. I figured I would try to write them down before I forget everything.

Starting 1/15.

Thursday- go to open houses at sigma chi, sigma pi, sammies (sigma alpha mu), and theta chi. Whack attack at sigma chi. One really cool dude and a bunch of mediocre guys at sigma pi. Sammies was alright and theta chi "took care of us" which is all we're really looking for at this point in the night. I end the night happy.

Friday- screw frats, I'm gonna celebrate MLK day right at the I Have A Dream party at Oakhurst. I end the night happy.

Saturday- stop by sigma pi and say "hey" to Hunter, the only cool guy I know there at this point. Meet Paul, who is also decent. Leave for theta chi, but tell them we'll come balks before we head home. Got to theta chi and end up sooo happy. I always have had a really good time at theta chi and they have yet to disappoint. Then we go balks to sigma pi, but it's awkward and not as fun as theta chi (so i'm told). I end the night happy. So happy that I don't remember any of the second trip to sigma pi nor do I remember sharing a bed with black Brenden when we got balks... I woke balks in my own bed though.

Sunday- Wake balks still kinda happy. Guys from theta chi and sigma pi come drop of their 1st invites and sammies slips theirs under the door. Cool. We miss the sigma pi pig roast b/c we're watching football, but we get to the Oktoberfest at theta chi around 6. I believe in trying new things, including keg stands... Girls show up and it turns into an actual party instead of a bunch of guys standing around flirting with each other. I end the night happy.

Monday- today is a "no-contact" day. Frats aren't allowed to official rush, but most dirty rush anyhow. I get a call about a party at one of the theta chi brothers houses. Jagabombs and Matt don't want to go so I call Anna. We show up at Ben's house early and hang out for awhile. They have an awesome pong table with a design made of different colored shotgun shells. Jagabomns and crew end up coming anyhow. I end the night happy.

Tuesday- Stop by sigma pi to make an appearance before we head to theta chi for... BROOMBALL! Broomball is like hockey only with sticks and mini soccer balls and no friction. They get us nice and happy before we head to the ice rink. We all bust our asses, but I end the night happy.

Wednesday- Stop by ATO b/c Matt said we should. We're there long enough for me to hit 4 cups 3 games in a row. We leave for fried chicken and 40s at theta chi. Need I say more? I'm happy by 7. We hang out there until 8 at which point we left for sigma pi to get ready for dodgeball on ice. Just as champion as it sounds. I end the night happy. Mind you, this is my 7th day in a row ending the night happy. Oh, rush. How you corrupt me from my innocent ways...

Thursday- No contact day. I turn down dinner with guys from theta chi to watch Lost with Oakhurst. Lost fucks my brain. I take a break from drinking.

Friday- I got 2nd invites from theta chi, sigma pi and ATO. Screw sigma pi. All their invites are whack. Theta chi has a keg kill. My team wins. Turns into a party.
I drink hard and early for the keg kill and then stop. This makes for a very mellow Rodell. I go home and turn from mellow Rodell to very sad Rodell. Rocket Summer makes it worst. Fuck you, Bryce.

Saturday- :)

Sunday- I go to a gun range with ATO. I'm against the glorification of weapons and violence, but that SHIT IS BADASS. I shot a frickin' 12 gauge pump shotgun. Thug life!

I got third invites from theta chi tonight and I'll probably get ATO invites tomorrow. Screw ATO, I like the theta chi brothers much more. We'll see how the rest of things go, but everything from here on is much more grounded and less party all the time. Which is a good thing b/c I have stuff to do.

There's more stuff I wanna write about, but I don't have time. I've got to wake balks soon.

Acknowledgements

I'd like to thank Kyle for making Saturday possible.

I'd like to thank Tod Tod for talks about life, spooning on the air mattress, and making everything that much more fun.

I'd like to thank Sarah for being sooo friendly. Oh, and the apple pie. I'm still not over that.

I'd like to thank Chris for his "baby in the blender" joke and I'd like to thank Sally for...making us laugh...

I'd like to thank Erik for being a beautiful Swede, for having an apartment (and a comfortable bed), and being as accommodating as he was. You turned potential disasters into complete successes.

I'd also like to thank Phillip for sorta kinda being there.

Finally, I'd like to thank Lance and Tod Tod for being dweeby with me at 2:30 in the morning and making sure that no cops came to arrest me balks for being a creeper.

Favorite quotes
-"I'm glad I brought my flask."

- Kyle: "You didn't tell me she was magical!"
Molly: "You didn't?"
Me: "No, I did. Twice. He just doesn't fuckin listen."

- "Phillip!"

-"So...which one is her window..."

-"I'm in high school and I'm older than him!"

-"So I'm in this dead guys' room hooking up with her when she stops and tells me 'I'm in high school'. Oops."


All in all, the night was great success.

duh...

Wow. It's actually quite simple.

You see, it's all about density. The polar bears roll deep and are all posted up doing their own thing, but THEY'RE REALLY CLOSE...

The penguins are already forming little clusters of penguin awesomeness so even though there's more blank space, nobody will mistake their intent to party.

The killer whales though.... the killer whales slipped up. There's way too much empty space, they're borderline anti-social. Polar bears and penguins have tried hard and made considerable progress on the killer whales, but the killer whales have problems they need to deal with on their own.

Or maybe with some outside help. A consultant if you will.


This has been another display of "late night" ingenuity.

Please, no autographs.