Teenage Lobotomy

If a lobotomy could successfully work with no real mishaps, then science is truly revolutionary. But there is one problem, wouldn't anyone who signs up for a lobotomy not recall getting one post procedure? After all, he/she has an all new mind with all new memories and background. So whatever they encountered in their life pre-lobotomy would be erased. But wouldn't it be more interesting (this is assuming lobotomies actually are perfectly successful already) that at some point in childhood we all receive one but cannot recall the event since our new mind does not remember going into surgery? Our earliest memory that our body actually went through (if lucky) would be waking up in a hospital bed confused and frightened. So basically, it's possible (but not probable) that we have all been living lives that we haven't actually lived.

This theory is flawed. I'm currently arguing with myself to work out the kinks.

Bipolar

I was having solitary midnight hot tub time tonight, and found myself thinking about bipolar disorders which led me to think about Holly Golightly. Clearly she was bipolar, but based off of his writing style Truman Capote is not. So I wonder, how he was able to portray a bipolar woman so effectively in Breakfast at Tiffany's? Certainly he must have been familiar with the disorder, perhaps from dealing with someone personally. Regardless of how Capote knows, it made me realize something: no bipolar person would be able to write about other bipolar people. Perhaps it can be acknowledged and touched at, but the writing itself would be sporadic (assuming the writer is relatively manic while writing, which in my case happens a lot). With such intense bipolar sounding writing, it would be difficult to focus on what the character is doing that is manic and depressive. All in all, I thoroughly confused myself during my relaxation time, and am now finding possible and plausible solutions as to why it's so difficult for me to calmly explain the bipolar disorder. And right now, it's really bothering me the numerous times I have written the word "bipolar" in this paragraph. Bipolar.

Theory #567

A few days ago I bought a pair of mom shorts (vintage denim shorts with a waistline up to the belly button). I realized one thing about them: It would be very hard to sexually "fool" around with someone while wearing mom shorts. And then I developed a theory as to why the waistline for both male and female entities has lowered so drastically in the past few decades: Young people wanted to have sex, and it was too hard to do so while wearing high cut trousers. So basically, what I believe to be true, is that a bunch of kids were so horny that some clothing designer made bottoms with a low-rise waistline so that teenagers would instinctively purchase them to meet their sexual needs. Could this be related to teen pregnancy? Perhaps.

What you see when your brain slows down.

Today there was a moment between 7 and 7:30 AM. I was sunken into my depression, lying on my backyard stoop, wearing an over sized cardigan and nothing else, beneath a 5 dollar Old Navy blanket. This moment was meaningless in every other place around me (assuming no one was shooting anyone around me), but for me this was a grand beauty. Never have I seen the world as such a beautiful place. Never did I love so much.

The clouds were patterned. Those 30 minutes were also the rare 30 minutes of the morning where no one on my street is walking to their cars and starting their engines. It was silence all but the few birds chirping. I remember seeing pigeons on the roof behind my house, and they were beautiful. I hate pigeons, but I thought these particular set of two were miraculous. My dogs were still half asleep nudging and licking at my body, not knowing to avoid the cigarette. And the cigarette was beautiful! It's smoke was eerie and mysterious, making trails in the air. If it could burn longer, it may have asked me to follow its trails to somewhere even more beautiful than my backyard stoop. One dog kissed my face, and it was like the love you feel on ecstasy.

I've never been the type of person with the "reach for the sky" kind of attitude. But today, I reached my hand up, and tried to touch the fucking sky. Only problem is I realized why I never tried before: I knew I couldn't do it. I failed. I was depressed again. And the beauty was lost.

Put that brain on a leash!

I've never lost my mind...it just keeps running away from me.

Found Piece

Typically, this is something I'd never do. I like to reserve this blog for my own thoughts and quirks, but these lyrics have been written by a very talented unknown musician who goes by the name J.PEOPLEMOVER. Check out two of his originals, and a cover on his Myspace site myspace.com/peoplemovertheband. Friend him, fan him, molest him. You know, whatever you're supposed to be doing on those sites to express what you like. His work reminds me a bit of Daniel Johnston, and if you don't know who that is, don't read my blog anymore. Love you crazy people out there.

I Wanna Be A Go Go Dancer

I wanna be a go go dancer
Incognito, my name is ma'am, sir
I'm a leo and you're a cancer
And I wanna be your go go dancer
And I wanna be your go go dancer

I'm working my way through school
Decided to pick up something new
I'm the best at making men drool
And I'm here to make you my fool, because

I'm your go go dancer
Incognito, my name is ma'am, sir
I'm a leo and you're a cancer
And I'm gonna be your go go dancer
And I'm gonna be your go go dancer

I don't want a relationship
I'm trying my best just to fake it
I just want to have something to do
And that something sure isn't you, because

I'm just a go go dancer
Incognito, my name is ma'am, sir
I'm a leo and you're a cancer
And I am just a go go dancer
And I am just a go go dancer

Screw law school, screw the bar
I'm gonna make myself a star

Stop when Yielding.

Something about traffic signs is amazing. They are near literally everywhere. Whose logic decides where to put them where they are? Stop, yield, park by permit only, 2 hour parking, no stopping any time, etc, etc, etc. If you don't think about it at all, they make no sense whatsoever. If you think a little harder, then they make all the sense in the world. But if you find yourself thinking any harder than that, you are back to them making no sense in any form of the word. Green means go.

Chuck Klosterman Doesn't Love Me (March 19, 2010)

This is an excerpt of something that I apparently wrote on March 19, so about a month ago. And I was clearly just as crazy then as I am now.


I’m reading and drinking tea. Well, technically I’m not; I’m writing on paper, but seconds ago I was reading and drinking tea while still slowly working my way through Chuck Klosterman’s IV (which is a shame because I was certain I’d be finished by now).

Anyway, whenever I read CK my mind semi wanders away from the text and onto relationships. In itself, that’s bizarre because relationships are never Klosterman’s focal point. Although today I have posed two answers to this query: 1.) Chuck Klosterman is my soul mate; 2.) Chuck Klosterman would never love me. The latter is more likely (which is unfortunate). I feel myself falling in love with CK more and more with the more pages I read. From his writing, I feel that that is exactly who he is: what he writes. He is a bit over dramatic, but extremely intelligent. And what intellectuals aren’t over dramatic? I’m attracted to some private chaos, but public collectiveness. And that seems to be what Klosterman is based off his writing (both fiction and nonfiction). Basically, it all comes down to this: if Klosterman would turn out to be the man he is in my head, then he is my perfect mate. Which also means Chuck Klosterman will never want me.

Anti-marketing

Interesting little thing I saw today. Bought a pack of cigs today, and on the back of the pack there was a small little packet attached that said, "If you decide to quit smoking..." and on the inside it proceeded to explain various ways to assist in the quiting process. So lets get this straight: the tobacco company is telling people to stop smoking their product. Good thing for many people, but stupid, stupid marketing strategy, and bad for me (though I know it will never work because pretty much no smokers give a flying fuck). Basically this a how-to-make-your-company-go-under type of situation. Stupidity arises.

Bald

It's a strange sight to see: two people with no pubic hair having sex with each other. It's as if two elementary school children are fornicating together for the first time, and seem to know exactly what to do. Kids grow up too fast these days.

Heterophobia

We've all heard the term "homophobic" yes? If you haven't, then fuck you, quit reading this, and google the goddamn term. Many heterosexuals are still homophobic. Why? I don't fucking know. You think they'd all be used to it by now. I suppose due to states like Texas and Alabama, the world will never embrace sexuality the way I do, but that's alright.

Trip on this with me for a second: If there is such thing as homophobic, then wouldn't that have to mean there is also "heterophobic?" If straights can fear gays, can't gays fear straights? Overtly straight males have a reputation for being uncomfortable around gay males. They don't want to be hit on by another human being with a penis. Understandable. But let's reverse this a little. How do gay males feel when straight girls hit on them? Is it not possible that they are repulsed by it, and do not like to be around straight girls if those girls are unaware of the fact that they are gay?

So basically, with an over-emphasis on sexual orientation, we all fear each other.

Here's the real question: Whatever happened to free love?

Big feet make you alien-esque.

Today was a great day. However there's one thing that stood out more than anything, and it's not the thing that all my friends would expect me to say. In yoga today we were doing very relaxing floor poses. One pose, that I believe is called cobbler or something of the sorts, has us with our feet pressed firmly together. We're supposed to practice our posture while we focus on opening our hips. Well, I could focus on neither. As I took a deep breath in and opened my eyes, I noticed that my left foot is substantially over sized in comparison to my right. Yeah, yeah everyone has one foot bigger than the other, but one foot that is possibly more than a whole shoe size bigger? It's disgusting if you ask me, but you wouldn't have to because I'm telling you before you asked. Perhaps this is all said in vain. Or perhaps I am a martian. Yeah, I'll go with that one. I'm a martian.

The falsities of starvation on television.

I used to watch the television game show Survivor religiously when it first aired. The first few seasons were great. They starved the contestants and worked their asses off so hard you could see a physical difference in their appearances by the end of the game. The contestants became thin complete with sunken cheeks. It was intriguing to watch human beings physically destroy themselves just for money. I can imagine that there must have been some health issues following the end of every season for some of the players. Now that is true commitment to the game.

Unfortunately, I stopped watching when I developed a theory that all the women on the show used it as a diet program. I still stand by that notion, but watched this season anyway. This season they brought back old players from previous seasons, some of which I remember from when I was regular viewer years ago. It is interesting because clearly the older players have their head in the game. They play the way the game was made to be played. But the contestants from more recent seasons don't seem to give a shit about strategy, strength, alliances, etc. etc. They are more concerned about their little friendships, and braiding each other's hair.

Beyond the handful of shitty players, the show itself seems to have taken a turn. Now, this is a reality game show, but the filming style is no longer even done as if that is so. It is soap opera-y, and possibly staged. The nature shots are most certainly staged. On tonight's episode they were screening an underwater shot of a sea-turtle to return from the commercial break. The problem with this is, when the shot came onto the screen I thought it was a commercial for the Long Beach Aquarium of the Pacific. It dragged on, and when no dialogue was spoken I thought to myself, "No way is this the intro back to Survivor." Well, it was. Fail.

In a nut shell, Survivor had a good idea to bring back respected viewers from earlier seasons, but isn't doing the best job to keep them around for the season following this one (assuming there is one). Thank you Survivor for falling into that reality show stereotype about how staged your show is. At least you kept Jeff around.

Somebody Loves Somebody

I love you. I love your quirks and behaviors. I love the way you talk excitedly about pop culture phenomenas. I love that you know an infinite number of random, typically considered useless facts because those are the only facts that I think are worth knowing. I love that you keep me in my place, because hell knows I need to be told what to do sometimes or just won't do anything (one of my flaws that I appreciate you helping me with). I love that we butt heads so much; it just means we are both passionate people in how we feel, and I hate people who lack passion, but you have tons so it's good. I love that you are so creative with just about everything (that's why I'm always pestering you to read and look at all my things because your opinion is the only one I trust creatively). I love that you're intelligent, and that you let your intelligence show. You'd be surprised how many stupid people there are in the world, and how many more intelligent people there are that pretend to be stupid. You are neither of the two, so that makes you awesome. I love your use of the word "awesome." I love that the things we have in common are random and silly, but probably could never find in anyone else in the world. Where will I find someone who adores tikis, but at the same time is intrigued by time travel? I love that you like to read, because you are one of the only people who doesn't make fun of my nerdy obsession with books and reading. Thank you for that respect. I love that you know things I don't know, like directors and anything involving computers etc. etc. etc. You keep me learning and learning, and my nerdiness loves learning. I love that we had a Bonnie and Clyde phase; it was fun and adventurous, and something that we risked at together. I love that you aren't afraid to admit to liking pink...A LOT. And I wish we could put that pink streak back into your hair. I love that you think I'm beautiful no matter how many things I keep changing about myself; it shows that you love me inside more over the outside, and that you will always love me as I am for a very long time. I love that you like doing simple things such as museum trips and antique browsing. I think that's when we have the most fun together. I love that you probably are shocked by reading this, because I love that I am still able to surprise you. And I love that I still haven't moved onto to any physical aspects of you yet, because there are so many others that I love more. However seeing as this is already extraordinarily extensive, I will jump ahead to your physical appeal.

I love it when you have your hair up, and how at the end of the day it gets messy and strands of it are falling in your face. I love the face you make when you're half asleep and smiling while kissing me goodnight. I love that your skinny, and this has a mini story behind it: I have been obsessed with skinny people--male or female--since I was a little kid. I thought that those were the only beautiful people, and as I grew up I could never find myself attracted to anyone who wasn't relatively skinny. And then, when I met you, you were this thin man with long hair who sang and played guitar (and hated family guy). It was perfection defined by me wrapped up in a real human body. I learned that childhood fantasies are real. Moving on, I love that you have those hazel eyes that sometimes look green, sometimes look grey, and sometimes look brown. I love the way you dress--from V-necks to cardigans to leather jackets--you look good in it all, and it makes everyone say that we look good together (especially when we wear leather on the same day). I love your freckles. I know the ones on your shoulders were painful to get, but they are unique and cute on you now. I guess pain does equal beauty sometimes. I love your smile and the way your lip curls. I don't like people who have typical big white smiles; there's no character. And something can only be beautiful with character like yours. I love the color of your hair, because the sun put its own highlights into it. So you have this multi-shades-of-brown hair color that I love when the sun or light hits it. I love the way you look naked. You don't have any weird bumps or lumps anywhere on you. You're whole body just flows with itself and looks natural.