One of my favorite things
So I was listening to The Streets of Cairo on youtube (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npQUK_OJONA), and I go to read the comments and I spot a bunch of people complaining about Ke$ha and some kpop ladies for ripping off the tune for their songs. Which is hilarious to me as The Streets of Cairo was an off the cuff ripoff of an older french song "Colin Prend Sa Hotte" which is a ripoff of an almost ancient algerian song.
It's almost as good as people complaining about Metallica ripping off Thin Lizzy or the Dubliners for Whiskey in the Jar, which has been sung in Ireland in one version or another since before the US was a country.
this was gonna be a fb status but I was worried people would think I was more than 30% serious
What the fuck am I supposed to do about this amber alert from five counties away? I'd have already called the cops if I saw someone that dark skinned in my neighborhood this time of night, I don't need an amber alert.
If I collect enough lines of decent dialogue, eventually I can string them all together and make a movie
"What's bizzaro world? What the fuck kind of question... Bizzaro world is a world in which things are bizarre. It's like "shipwreck cove" or "the island of faggots." You don't need to ask what it is, as soon as you're aware it exists, you should already know."
I will start this post by pointing out that I typed in my username and password for woohu without flinching even though it's been saved in my computer for 5 years (just built a new PC). I think that says something.
me references will be in italics. ;)
I will continue by saying that I miss me. I'm not entirely sure I know what me is anymore, but I'm pretty sure I miss it. As a disclaimer I will say that none of this is meant to be sad or foreboding in three at all. Just a rant.
I have this notion that any sense of self I had is gone with all the hobbies I used to have.
I understand that being 27 it is a totally normal thing to be unsure of direction and/or choice, what the fuck am I doing?
I had all these plans to do these big things (that weren't one-hundred percent attainable) and now here I am, a cog in the machine.
If I'm going to live in these conditions, I wish I was a teacher at least. At least then I might have the comfort of knowing I'm doing something for the future and our youth whether or not they give a shit (and usually I can't blame them if not).
I reflect sometimes and honestly feel like it's deserved. I've done many things that have warranted my conundrum. So self deprecating I is.
But then there's the other side. Considering I'm with a mother who's in a perpetual mental breakdown and a father who will hate you if the wind changes direction: I'm alive, I eat, I drink, I'm typing on a computer; things can't be that bad.
I almost blame my raising. The raising involving America being the best and being privileged just to be involved. I don't think it's the same anymore. We're not the best. I will soon be a part of a motion picture that someone in Sweden will watch and say "man, I'm glad I live here and not there regardless of how entertaining this drama is". Does that make sense? Basically I have a notion that we will soon be portrayed as less than first world. Not that less than first world is less than anything but... whatever this isn't the point.
My point is all I do is reminisce. I reminisce about times when I didn't have to think so much. I reminisce about the people who made thinking optional at most. I reminisce about love gone, love I wasted, love I should have valued. I was so carefree I felt like love was water; the most abundant of resources.
Now I'm aware; and too much so. I have a perspective of things I've done, things I'm doing, and things I will do. This is equal parts frustrating and enlightening. Equal parts "I want to apologize to everyone" and "want to stand my ground". If I hadn't made the shitty choices I've made in the past, I wouldn't be so enlightened but I wish I could go back and at the least prevent them or remake them.
I've been told by some of the people I love most that I'm not good enough for anything that is normal a lot of my life, when I was young and still today, and this has been the basis of my relationships since I was a tweenager (this is the only word in this post with a red scribble underneath it as I'm typing and I'm proud of that). I shouldn't have said that because now another mistake will be pointed out.
With this said, All i want is to know what I want. I want to know what is wantable. Is there something I should want? Want want want. Need Need Need.
That is all for tonight. Again, just a rant. Have a good night.
If you were dating a secretary would you get her something for secretary's day? She's not your secretary, you didn't make her a secretary, in fact, she brings work home all the time and makes you a part time secretary too. Then she expects some gift for secretary's day? That would be completely unreasonable.
What if we just swam around in warm water all day every day?
For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much - the wheel, New York, wars and so on - whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man - for precisely the same reasons.
Things I do that don't make any damn sense (to be added to later)
I drive from Northland and 14 mile to Northland and 12 mile almost every weekday. Every time I come close to the Northland and 13 mile intersection I get afraid that the right lane is going to become a right turn only lane and I move to the left lane. The right lane does not become a right turn only lane.
Whenever I see an Art Van truck, I check to see if Big Dave is inside of it. It's been at least 3 years since Dave worked for Artvan, and over a year since I've talked to Big Dave, but I still always check to see if he's sitting in the passenger seat when I see an Art Van truck.
2013 15 September :: 8.47pm
:: Music: Man on Fire-Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
PhDing and teaching. It involves lots of reading. And grading. Eventually, there will be writing. This year marks my 4th academic publication, and 2014 will hold conference presentations 7-9 at major conferences.
I really hope there will be some semblance of a good job at the end of all of this.
It was a 4/20 miracle!
So last night on the way home from a party in saranac with my girlfriend, Stacey, I ran out of gas. We were about 2 miles from a gas station, but it was 1 at night and we were in the middle of nowhere (the wrong side of 12 mile and lincoln lake road) so we started walking. I expect Stacey to complain because it is all my fault but she's a fucking trooper and never said a negative word. Anyway, we get maybe a half mile down the road, with me holding out my gas can for everyone who passed us to see, before we see brake lights. Our savior was in a red truck, and his name was Mike. Before we get another half mile, Mike asks if we smoke. We say hell yes, and he passes us a bowl. Stacey starts talking about how lame the party we came from was (we basically all sat around calling people trying to get dope all night) and the guy gives us a little bag with about a gram in it. He gets us to the gas station and back, and our night was a million times better.