Wed, May. 23rd, 2007, 11:34 am
It is in dream one finds their best and worst situations; It is there you shall find imaginative challenges. It is also there where you shall intellectively lose physical reality and embark upon adventures of no real repercussions.
Sleep is the drug suited to those who haven't a drive to accompany the mass of people and the life these people indulge. It is the cure for those of us who merely haunt life rather than contribute to the wanton hoopla that is enacted with quotidian accuracy.
To sleep is to not miss much of biological animation, for everything has already been done a thousand times over. Life to everyone in every aspect is so routine in the forest that the trees have become dull and monotonous. Unfortunately, I am not exempt. To sleep shall be my cure; To avoid the pitfalls of daily life shall be my ambition.
For this child grew unprepared for good living. To ameliorate what social ineptitudes I possess seems an all-too-dismal task, and what little drive I feel does not feel inclined toward undertaking it.
So for now I sleep and tread upon a phantasy of Cockaigne prestige until apathy finds a secondary outlet.
Ah, to live alone. There are so many advantages that it's hard to describe the satisfaction. I can walk around in my underwear and I can say things like, "Fuck it, the dishes can wait until morning." The problem with living by myself is that I get mentally settled in, and then I don't want to leave. I have some pet care to take care of tonight, and I don't want to. I love the pets to death, I love the money it brings, but I don't like being out of my comfort zone. This is the problem and one that I've had since I was a young whippersnapper. When I'm by myself for too long I start to get worsening symptoms of social phobia and almost agoraphobia. I spend so long with books and electronic communication devices that the other more important stuff doesn't matter. It is then that my off line friends and family are avoided except through less-than-meaningful telephone interaction. I don't understand it, and I've stopped trying.
This is the dilemma that has tugged upon my psychosocial mind frame for the past 15 years. It reminds me of that old song, "Should I Stay or Should I Go?". Should I stay boxed in and comfortable when I know it's not doing any good for me, or should I go and at least partake in some kind of outdoor activity when I know the event is of no big worry? Even if only for a few minutes a day?
So questions the mindset of enduring bemusement.
A trip to the park yesterday lead an enthusiastic mind to a more morbid side. It's hard to imagine, but upon watching children play I felt a sense of sadness. No matter how handsome the boys were or how beautiful the girls were I couldn't help but think that one day all of them would cease breathing. Whether untimely or of a long, fruitful life all that breathes will perish.
Life is a mere race, and sometimes it feels pointless. There really is no point to life. Some would say the basic, fundamental point is to survive and reproduce. Those reproductions will cease to exist as well, and so, too, will their reproductions. All that we'll have or accomplish is of no fundamental value. Your PhDs are of no importance and neither are your laws of quantum mechanics (which seem to break down, anyway).
So I must ask why to persue life in the first place. I must wonder why I should follow a dream that's to be ended at some extemporaneous point in time. In this case one can see the importance of religious ideation, for it brings meaning to the lives of those of faith. I sit without a God to cradle me, and I must find my own way to self enlightenment. I can probably start by stopping this impertinent view of existential principiums.
Thu, May. 17th, 2007, 08:30 am
Yesterday was a one of those days where you do so much running around that you fall asleep almost instantly after laying down. I love phsyical labor; it's fun and, by-golly, it's good for you! I layed down around eight last night without even an intention of sleeping, and sleep came just the same. I didn't even have to take my Ativan until I woke up around one this morning. It's nice being that tired. I need more physical activity.
I've been less-than-faithful with my musical studies. I find it hard to concentrate on one thing; reading is especially hard to focus on. I'll practise with a few classical Giulliana studies for a whopping five minutes and then move on to Sor or Carcassi. I need to create a solid schedule that tells me what to do instead of just randomly thinking to myself, "I think I'll do this now."
My poor organ (Hammond, that is) has seen no attention, and I intend to start playing it again. The reason why I don't play it much is because organs can be loud and bass notes really are deep, bassy notes that rattle the walls sometimes. The neighbors wouldn't like this. That's another reason I want to get out of here. The walls are thin, and you can't fart without someone next door hearing it. Woe is me, woe is me.
If there's anything that drives me nuts it is clutter. Even if the dishes are arranged in the dish drainer the wrong way or there are a few compact discs lying around it drives me fucking nuts. Unfortunately, my apartment is full of clutter lately. It seems like if I arrange or clean one area another area gets cluttered and dirty. This is due to the fact that my mom was giving away a shit load of stuff, and I'm trying to cramp it into this apartment; nevertheless, I am getting the place in good shape.
I made a dent in the closet today by throwing out old boxes and clothes that were ripped and torn. Why I kept the shit is beyond me. They were so torn that you couldn't wear them, but they sat in the closet for months just the same. It looks a lot better, but more closet work will still have to be done.
Sunday and today I had to pet sit for two different people; it got me some extra money, and I got to see the cutest kitties. I always like pets better when they're not mine. The entire time was without incident except when I managed to step in the vomit of a calico named Hopi.
The past month alone I've been multitasking, and I don't really like it. I'm almost overworked (a rare feeling for me) at a time when I just want to be left alone. I have so much to do that I'm forgetting to do half of it--some of it is very important. I'm proud of myself for the work I have done, though. If only things weren't changing so damned fast.
It's been a long time, and it's been a busy time. More busy than I'm going to post, for that takes too much time. I will say that I will not rest until I get an entry posted.
I have been spending my time in fog trying to decorate my apartment. My tactics are simple; I utilize art reprints, accent lamps, bouquets (albeit fake ones), et cetera. This is easier said than done when your income is limited. I want to surround myself with things I like, things that I find beautiful, things that I find fascinating. Cheesy, I know, but I want my apartment to stimulate me (for lack of a better term) when I walk into it.( Sunset Is Composition TimeCollapse )
Nobody seems to have any idea what is wrong with my hands. My general practitioner sent me to a neurologist who sent me to an orthopedist who sent me to a rheumatologist. I keep having tendon and joint pain no matter if I play an instrument or not.
Playing an instrument just makes it worse.
Time for sleep.
Tue, Nov. 21st, 2006, 06:37 am
It's been the oddest few days, I can say. I believe it was Thursday or Friday that the rains came. Pounding, pouring rain. The day started normally when I offered to take my mom's sick bird to the vet. I wanted her to be as stress free as possible, so I wrapped her in a nice towel (the bird, not my mom) and headed to the vet just a few blocks away. She died in the car. She died in my hands as I stroked her fluffy head. It took less than minute to pass from the cage to death. The vet confirmed her demise, and theorized it was a respiratory infection.
After arriving home I put her in a bag, and, for my own psychological reasons, didn't bury her right away. I felt so bad about having her go from a nice, warm house to a cold, wet grave within a 10 minute time frame. So Left her be for about an hour.
In the mean time I noticed the wind picking up speed and the rain pouring harder and harder. Soon after the Weather Channel alerted that Doppler Radar had indicated rotation in a storm cell near by. Verily, a tornado warning commenced for my county and a surrounding one. The alert had claimed that the heavy rain fall would have obscured the tornado, and this was most certainly true. Visibilty was poor. The warning expired 20 minutes later with only strong winds; however, a flash flood warning popped up soon after. I guess it was to be expected.
A few hours later the power went out for unknown reasons. There was a wire down, I know that much, but how it occurred is beyond me. The rain and wind had stopped since, but maybe the earlier storm had knocked it loose. Who knows. A few other minor odd things happened that I shant speak of due to their minority or privacy violations. Eventful, sad, and entertaining. Thus was the day last week that I can't remember.
It's been rather adventurous in the woods for me, and that's why I love spring. A friend of mine had told a few people that he would send out iron slag (basically burned rocks) to them for free if they thought they could use it. He got a few responses, and that meant going to the various old iron furnaces around the area. At the Paradise Furnace park we came across thousands upon thousands of tadpoles and frog eggs in a slow-moving stream. I saw one of the parent frogs, and currently I'm convinced it is a Northern Green Frog. It was amazing, and I collected five of the little tadpole turds for home-growing. It's been almost a week, and they seem very healthy and lively.
The next day we went to Etna Furnace Rd to look for more of the iron slag when we discovered a beautiful orance and black newt. They seem to love the fast-moving streams that have lots of rocks and dirt to hide in (which was where of the majority of them fled to).
On the way home from that trip we were perplexed at whatever resided on the road up ahead. A snake? A piece of rubber? After pulling up next to it both of us determined it was a snake; therefore, I hopped out to get off of the road due to assholes intentionally hitting the things. It was a black rat snake, and it was beautiful; however, I didn't even have to get my foot on the ground from the car before it got pissed off at me. I tried to approach it slowly to kind of scare it off the road which worked quite well. It worked so well that the black rat snake went to the side of the road, under the truck, and up into the bedding of the truck where we couldn't get it.
At this point we were out in the country, so we had no choice to bring the snake back to town with us. Every time we went anywhere we had to check the motor and stuff for the thing, but there was no sign of it to be found. It did, however, eventually surface three or four hours later at which point it was taken to the river and released. I'm sure it had an adventure to last it a lifetime.
On the guitar I am learning the Flamenco-style rasgueado technique which is a lot easier than it sounds. Unforutantely, I had to offically cancel guitar lessons for the time being due to my upcoming surgery and my rent increase that's coming up. I'm still practicing the piano, but it's going slower than the guitar. I've actually been kind of lazy on both instruments since it's summer, and I have more outside things to do.
After a consultation with the doctor I've decided to go ahead with surgery. The otolaryngologist will perform a typanoplasty on my right ear drum thus enabling the ear to hear better. The best part is that the whole thing will be done under I.V. sedation! I really dislike gas because it makes me sick after the surgery. According to the doctor there isn't too much postoperative pain, but he'll give me some analgesics and some antibiotics afterwards anyway. I'm kind of excited, but I'm kind of nervous. I haven't had ear surgery in 20 years or so. I just remember waking up as a kid, and the nurses let me choose some toys to make me feel better. It really did its job. It was a little duck, and it made me feel better almost instantly. I won't have a duck this time.
On Sunday a friend invited me out to one of the furnaces to listen to an achaeologist speak about prehistoric people. The lecture ran longer than I'd hoped, and I started to zone out; however, it was an interesting talk. He started out in Africa and talked about migrations to Asia and into north American and then down into South America. He even brought artifacts that they excavated from various sites in the area (including pottery from the now flooded site that I mentioned a few days ago).
Hey, you want to know something really stupid I did? I couldn't get into my apartment door because it was stuck. I kept ramming it and pushing on it; nothing would happen, so I called maintenance. While they were on their way to my apartment I tried the deadbolt one last time and discovered that I hadn't unlatched the deadbolt completely.
*Applause for stupid act of the week*
Last night's dream involved me being in India riding on this train/roller-coaster thing with mouse-shaped cars of purples and reds. A few tourists--including myself--were going down the Indian country and gasping at the beautiful mountains and landscape. Even though I knew the train was going to fast, I kept snapping pictures, for I wanted to document that beauty that was passing me by.
I soon found myself at the train station, and no one told us to disembark. The folks on the train seemed to know the routine, and I followed their lead. In the station were school buses, and I had realised that I was in school here. I soon entered a school room where a nun stood silent at the head of the class. Although I was told that the nun teachers don't like tardiness, I left to get a quick bath.
I noticed that the water did not get very hot in this odd little Indian town. This was a completely barren room with nothing in it but the bathtub, rotting, creaking floors, dust, and some pictures on the wall next to the tub. The pictures on the wall were identification guides to intestinal parasites, and upon looking at a few of the pictures I looked down to the deep tub to find several roundworms and other intestinal parasites floating around in the water. Hanging on the side of the tub was a large tapeworm that was at least a foot in girth, left a train of slime, and had antennae on its head.
This is all I remember aside from the fact that I jumped out of the tub immediately and accidentally grabbed the malforded tapeworm in the process.