Xanga entry from 1/6/2006

teenagers are often fleshbags of insanity because the teenage years are when most people finally discover how fucked up the world really is. then they become adults. and as we all know, adults are fleshbags of insanity with proper training in hiding their insanity. in hopes of finding someone who shares the same secretive insanity, we wed one another. conflicting insanities lead to divorce or separation, which leads to more insanity. all the while, we lie to one another as much as we lie to ourselves. then we die, usually with people around us who know nothing of our secret insanities.

this glum summary of life seemingly says the only certainties in life are secrets, confusion-induced pain, and death.

everyone eventually leaves you one way or another. either by choice or death. so, fight the urge to get close, 'cause it'll all be gone soon enough. nothing lasts forever homies.

happy new year!

wasting my nice

i'm wasting my nice on you
it's rough, baby, but i know it's true

my lefts outweigh what's right
wishing you'd think of me tonight

here we are, you and me
i'm savoring every second
holding onto every hour
because you're all i want
but to you, i'm just me

i'm wasting my nice on you
it's rough, baby, but i know it's true

reset

how often do you feel the urge to reset?

start all over, and see if you'd do better the second time around?

Weird is as weird does

Ever run into some really old pictures, pieces of writing, etc. that make you feel weird?

Weird, like a mixture of nostalgia and heartache. Weird, like I-wish-I-had-a-time-machine. Weird, like I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing-with-my-life-right-now. Weird, like the feeling you get when you're somewhere really nice and want to hit the pause button so you can enjoy that moment for more than time allows.

I just did. And I feel weird.

Pitter-patter is a word

The other night, I had a warm glass of milk with some soft cookies.

Then I lay in bed, and fell asleep with the windows open, to the sound of rain.

I like falling asleep to the sound of rain, there's something truly soothing about its pitter-patter.

silly us

we're nothing but a bunch of flesh bags
moving around, way too fast for our own good
in colorful, metal boxes,
but most of us choose the monochromatic path

boom boom boom

i really enjoy listening to music loud enough that the bass vibrates the side-view mirrors.

it just makes life seem like a beautiful assortment of rhythmic vibrations coupled with moving images.
images seen through reflections of objects.
objects that may actually be closer than they appear.

music itself, is so strange. think about it. it's people talking in funky, up-and-down sort-of-way. how great is that? that we all enjoy these strange things, together.

capital letters

so i've been thinking about using capital letters in the proper places for the things i write in this blog, but i realized that i'm not going to be graded on proper punctuation. so, i'm throwing proper punctuation out the window!

i just started listening to mayer's "as/is" 2-disc album and i feel silly because i remember posting it up on my xanga years ago, saying that i wanted to buy it. now, it's been quite a while and i finally am listening to it. what's my deal?

"summer isn't over. summer isn't over yet."

all at once

"which way will you run, when it's always all around you?" -jj

Recovery

So I took my dog to a huge park and let him roam off-leash. I think he had a good time. He ate cow poop and grass.

I spent a good chunk of last night reading through some of my old Xanga entries, and I've come to a brutal realization:
I'm not really as genuine and sincere as I always thought. I'm actually quite a selfish prick and I should've known I was capable of doing what I did.

Are we all like this? Are we all, in reality, what we think we hate the most?

Except dogs. Dogs are so pure and happy it makes me sick. No wonder they only live for a fraction of our lifetimes. I'm jealous.

Reflections From a Fucking Moron

Today, while going through the security checkpoint at Dulles airport, I was assigned to line #15.
I took it as a sign. I'm not sure yet what is going to happen.

I have never hurt anyone as much as I did this past weekend. And it really sucks.
Everything I do now is unfair to her now. If I'm happy, it's not right because she's hurting. If I'm sad, it's not right because I brought this upon myself.
I feel so sick to my stomach and want to fix everything. But it's not in my power to fix something when I'm what's causing it.
I can't be her angel now.

relationships & posters

have you ever noticed the similarities between a romantic relationship and posters on your walls? me neither. not until recently.

they both take a good deal of work to start but the product (a new poster on the wall or a super hot boyfriend/girlfriend) seems well worth the trouble. you are so excited to look at your new poster or hottie and do so quite often for some time. after a while, you start taking its presence for granted and forget what you did to make the whole thing happen. then the poster putty or gooey feelings start to lose their stickiness, causing slight sags in the poster's corners or the peaks of fun. that's when you have to reapply the ever-so-important adhesive or else it'll eventually come spiraling down to the ground. and then you can never really tell if the wall or the poster tried harder to hold on to the putty.

so i suggest we all remember the glory of the beginning, remember to always reapply lots of putty or love, and not take our posters or our significant others for granted.

unless, of course, the poster sucks.