"This is the Here & Now," the baritone voice intoned. "So Hear. Now."


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The Here & Now

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:: 2012 16 May :: 2.44 pm

Hey Pete,

Don't forget this: http://www.dean.usma.edu/departments/math/courses/ma206/default.htm

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:: 2012 14 May :: 2.08 am
:: Music: Nervous Tic Motion of the Head (to the Left)

It just occurred to me that I really hate having to be the guy who is accepting of his fate. I wish I could readopt that bubble that told me that given time she'd swing my way. I don't know if her resilience has fueled my passion or of it's pure God-given need. I don't know, all I know is that it's beginning to click that it ain't meant to be, and that grinds and cuts and wounds.

Also, I'm pretty pissed off that I have a B in Chemistry. If they would have just taught Advanced Chem RICE tables like EVERYBODY ELSE!



I can't abide RDJ in Weird Science. It's despicable. I wonder if he feels that way too.

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:: 2012 13 May :: 1.45 am
:: Mood: pained

It is difficult to accept that I have no control.

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:: 2012 1 May :: 8.44 pm
:: Music: Dead Mau5

Our Life Is Not Our Own
"How can you achieve peace through war?"
"What else would you have us do?"
"If we die, they win."
"If we fight, war wins - what if its not about us?"
"They'll kill more."
"Probably. That's their crime. Death will find a way. As will life."
"Are we indifferent?"
"Are we gods?"
"Are we ignorant?"
"Are we wise?"
"Are we blameless?"
"Then how can we not fight?"
"Then how can we kill?"
"Because their blood irrigates the fields of peace."
"Peace cannot come from war, just as light does not arise from the void."
"What can we do?"
"If we die, we win?"
"If there is victory, it is in death."

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:: 2012 21 April :: 11.34 pm
:: Mood: small
:: Music: Hurt (Leona Lewis)

Fuck me, right?
I'm really childish. That's all I can really say. I'm just a giant and self-centered baby. One who's always on the stage and can't abide the shift of the spotlight. I'm mature enough to realize when the light should be on me and when it shouldn't (I don't miss the spot in Chem or in MilMovement, et cetera), but on that stage I'm supposed to shine. I think that's what I think anyway. And I think that's why I feel so impotent and broken and all this really egocentric feelings when I should just feel happiness and the most sincere gratitude for Drew and Nicole and their amazing work on developing our production.

The human mind has an amazing capacity to rationalize failure, to dull the sting. I like to think I taught everything they did; I just have to accept they did it better. They won them over. Probably by being better people than I'll ever hope to be. I have a real problem with good people. I'm so shamelessly envious, it's embarrassing. I've never felt so small as I did with them. But hey, at least I'm really wicked at reading those lines. That didn't belittle me at all. And the worst part is he meant it to be a compliment or something.

Fuck me, right?

That's how I've been feeling a lot lately. You're in good hands; Jarvis' hands. You got this Pete, can you handle it? You're worthless, you can't handle anything, you don't read my e-mails.

Fuck me, right?

You're not a good director. We should fire you and keep Drew instead. You're worthless. Can you stay [Drew]?

Fuck me, right?

I need God right now, but I don't feel up for an audience with Him. I don't want to feel peace or forgiveness (whether it's internal or external); I just want to destroy something. I want to yell and bang on a piano and...I don't know.


I used to think I had confidence, or bravado at the least. Now I realize just how humanly pathetic and finite I am. And I don't know how or that I want to change it.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck me.

And yet I have this middle school urge to pout, to post on Facebook (let's be honest, this is why I'm posting this online, in the off chance I can rustle up some anonymous sympathy and somehow feel better about my life). I want everyone to feel how I feel. Not that I want to belittle them, I just want them to appreciate my pain. I want them to walk a step in my delusional shoes.

Fuck me, I'm stupid.

I really wish I could be more adult about this, I wish my cognition matched my behavior.

(Stoic - that's a word right? I'm a theater guy! Oh, yes it is a word, can we suck your dick? Now, now, just doing my job.)

Stoicism. Comes from the Greek word for porch, where the first Stoic forums were held. Big name: Epictetus, focuses on apathea (that's right, apathy!), but has a different connotation than the modern use. It proposes we should rightly be indifferent to externalities and focus on cultivating the virtues we have control over.

And in the end, he's still a terrific, wonderful, Godsend guy. Why can't I appreciate someone for that? Why can't I just lift him up and thank God for his love demonstrated in such a why? Why do I have to be so fucking selfish all the fucking time?


And why do I care about one person more than the rest? I think God and the Devil would both agree that I should give the fuck over it.


But I can't, and instead I'm stuck in the flaming purgatory. I just want to punch shit. I've never felt so upset and stupidly violent in my life, and all I want to do is play LoL and feel a little good. Otherwise I might cry or die or something that rhymes with I.


Somehow that helps...


I know it shouldn't, but somehow the vulgarity is the antidote I seem to need. One that treats the symptoms. So that when it wears off it feels all the more potent (because the virus has worsened and my soul is blacker than before, moving from Midnight to Oil to Oblivion).

I think I feel a little better. I don't know. I don't know how I would explain this nonsense to anyone, even if they asked. If I were another person my only conclusion would be that, hey Peter, you're a childish dick.

Fuck me, right?

(A childish dick who will write a blog about how he is a victim of his own hubris, still sympathy-mongering. The balls on this cocksuckingmotherfuckerIjustwanttowatchtheworldburnI'llgetbywithalittlehelpfrommyfriends...?)

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:: 2012 4 March :: 4.58 pm
:: Mood: loved

Jesus Prays for All Believers
"My prayer is not for [the disciples] alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

"Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.

"Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them."

Unity. All believers. Catholic, whatever it means to you today, fundamentally meant universal. I think of Chris Shea mediating peaceful retreats between Palestinians and Israelis to combat the culture of conflict in which both groups are raised. Although since the Diet of Worms (not the eating preferences of Timon & Pumba, but rather a formalized meeting of Church Fathers in the German town of Worms) Catholics and Protestants have been able to coexist in relative harmony, at various locations in time and space the friction from that schism has resulted in the same kind of terrorism that divides the Middle East.

But a lot of that has settled down, as far as I know. Even Ireland, recently infamous for its warring Christians is not so sundered by the IRA, the Provos, and the Red Hand of Ulster (everything I think I know about Ireland I learned from Jack Higgins).

But even though there is definitely a peace, and in my experience a general respect between the two flavors of Christianity, its a bittersweet peace. We're still divided, an eventuality that Jesus might find appalling. That prayer for all believers (not Catholics; not Protestants) is somehow mocked by our own focus on the differences that separate us rather than the core of what makes us all followers of Christ.

We shouldn't be two bodies that have learned how to get a long, rather, at worst, two heads mounted on the body of Christ; maximally together, and minimally apart."

I spent a weekend surrounded, immersed, smothered by Catholics. It was great. I don't think I've ever felt more welcomed by a community of faith, and I have a real respect for their entire church now, a respect I never gave opportunity before because of my penchant for making jokes about folks who make easy targets. No more. I will only make fun of Catholics in front of Nicole Pallazo, because our relationship depends on it.

Unity man - and thank God for Catholics.

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:: 2012 2 March :: 12.05 pm
:: Mood: awake

What If...?
What if utilitarianism was real. And we did the calculus for all mankind and the result was negative - that when the equation was balanced it turned out we weren't maximizing happiness but minimizing suffering.

Wouldn't the real solution be Asmivoian? Wouldn't we kill everyone?

0 > -n

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:: 2012 29 February :: 11.45 pm

If I spent my whole life with an EKG attached to my head you could look at all the brain activity that I've had, from birth til now (assuming it has perpetual battery life, can survive aquatic conditions, etc).

I'm sure as I mastered locomotion, developed certain cognitive processes, and generally aged that brain activity increased. Probably really sharply at first, and gradually it began to decline.

It isn't so much that I've been thinking "more" per se...I just feel like the thinking I have been doing has a higher concentration of Importance in the Big Scheme of Things.

I attribute this to a number of things:
1. READING books like Eating Animals (Jonathan Safran Foer), Three Cups of Tea (the Story of Greg Mortenson), and different holy texts like the Bible, Koran, and Bagavad Gita.
2. NOT PLAYING video games. There's not a lot of ways to spin this. For some reason neither League of Legends nor World of Warcraft work on my computer, and because I have absolutely no self-control when I am able to play video games, not being able to play them has opened up oodles of time with a higher mean quality.
3. PHILOSPHIZING as a result of being in a couple philosophy classes and taking my time in OCF more seriously. Basically I am now AWARE that there are questions that are important and that needed answers, or at least deserve the sweat of the struggle.

So, you're walking through the park in a brand new pair of Fancy Pants. They're a beautiful _______ color, and the _________ fabric is pleasing to the touch. As you stroll about, enjoying Mother Nature in all her splendor, you hear a cry for help! You immediately turn to the source of the disturbance and see a young boy in the nearby pond. He is drowning! Do you jump in and save the boy, even though everyone knows water will ruin your ________ pants?

Yeah, it's a trap (like any good thought experiment). It's meant to make the point that their is a moral obligation to help fellow humans who are "drowning." Which I buy; unfortunately, that implies that the vast majority of folks in our modern world aren't living up to this seemingly simple standard. Because of our unlimited global perspective we know when children are starving, when people are oppressed, and when genocides occur. But we don't want to ruin our Fancy Pants.

Q: That's stupid. There's just too many people to help. I won't make a difference.

You're stupid. Back to the thought experiment. Does the NUMBER of children drowning in the pond matter? What if there are thirty? "Nahh, I'll never be able to save 'em all."

Q: Well, I'll focus on my career right now, so that when I do go to help them out I'll be more of a benefit.

The kid is drowning. Now. Or, literally, children are starving as I type this. Which is kind of hypocritical if I'm really defending my theory, but what can ya do? This is akin to building a fence around the pond to prevent future floaters. Noble intent. But you cannot walk away from the children who are drowning now. Their need is urgent and doesn't subside at your convenience.

Q: But I like my life. Why should I sacrifice my American Dream to help someone else? Sounds Communist.

Sure, there's definitely a socialist component to this altruism. Maybe you are redistributing your wealth insomuch as you're sacrificing your Fancy Pants to save the kid, but I'm not asking you to become that starving kid. And I think this perspective still allow for capitalism and the pursuit of happiness, you just have to get everyone else you can to the basic quality of living that every human is deserved of. Then you can play Wall Street to get enough for the third edition of the iPad.

So what am I doing here. I read about Greg Mortenson educating Pakistani children, Foer does his own part in raising his child vegetarian, hell, even Cracked has an article about the Chuck Norris of feeding the hungry.

What am I doing?

All my aspirations in life seemed okay a little while ago. A family. Writing a book, making some music, even get some serious acting done. How can I do that now? I know I've talked with Kenny Neville about relative complaining. Think about the First World Problem Meme, it mocks all our gripes. Do we have the right to complain? I always thought we did for, and in certain situations I think we do. But in the meantime we ignore the less fortunate. I like to think I'm a good person. I help people on their homework when the ask. I don't hit Kenny Seamans (not Neville) in the balls when he drives me crazy. I pray prayers and tithe tithes. Sure I cross lines sometimes, but no one is perfect.

I think the worst part about all this is how easy it is to drive on in life. I remember how challenging I found Three Cups of Tea when I read it. Some people question it's truthfulness. That's irrelevant. It still demonstrates one man taking on the Big Problems of This World.

Which, leads to the question: "Does anything in This World really matter?" Should I be focusing on my personal salvation, and consequentially sharing the Word with others? Or if I were Hindi I might focus on meditation and achieving moksha. There's an altruism to the Buddhist belief in interdependent arising. Are these the goals that matter? Sometimes I joke with friends that they can blow anything off because, eventually, it will never have mattered. Which is kinda not a joke. I'm not preaching full-fledged hedonism or detachment. I know by living a good life in this world we can ease the pain of others, which even Bertrand Russell acknowledges to be a worthy secular goal.

What am I doing?

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:: 2011 22 February :: 7.23 am
:: Mood: thoughtful
:: Music: Coldplay

I'm doing this poetry analysis on Percy Shelley's sonnet Ozymandias. If you know the work, then you'll recognize that the brevity of human existence is a theme undeniably touched on in the piece. Its a common motif in art. Everyone dies.

But in the books I read, the movies I watch, their lives are made immortal through their works. I watched the Matrix this weekend, and as disappointing as I found the second and third installments Neo will continue forever, in or outside of the source code, or whatever techno-fantasy justification exists for his perpetuated existence. Because he was a bad-ass who, despite the ability to do basically whatever the fuck he wanted, only manifested his power in the ability to fly, master martial arts, and stop bullets. Not a creative messiah, but a god in his own world.

And isn't that the way of them all? Even nonfictional accounts are a testimony to the subject, and even if they die they are encapsulated forever and shelved in a library near you.

They say you're the hero of your own story. And often enough the hero doesn't die, and in that way he lives doubly. The story ends, he fells Voldemort, destroys the Ring, survives Tarmon Gaidon, gets the Bluth Company out of trouble, WHATEVER. And then he's not only locked away for the rest of eternity, but their fictitious lives have years left to wile away on imagined future greatness, or to simply enjoy.

All of this aimless, unfocused musing is just a response to breakfast today. The Glee Club leads the singing of the last verse of the Alma Mater when a graduate of West Point is killed in action. And that's gonna make you think. The odds are tremendously in your favor. This is the first that has died this school year, which is terrific right? But nevertheless, just by taking the oath you accept that you're gambling your life. Sure, I might be more likely to die in a car accident or have a sixteen ton anvil fall on my head, but these are accidents and Acts of Acme, and are negligible risks that we are forced to take by living.

Becoming a 'professional warrior' just invites death to be a part of your life.

Which made me think about how unimmortal 1LT Daren Hidalgo is. We sang him a song, and for a moment his name resonated in the entire Corps, but its a brief moment really. Sure, he's got friends and family that will remember him longer, but it will dull and fade, only to be recalled achingly at particular moments. And they'll die, the only thing really keeping him from ultimate death. And then he'll really be dead. Totally, irrevocably dead after a score and some change of life. He went to school for almost his whole life, and in less than two years out of the gate he was killed. He Was Born, Then He Was Taught, Then He Fought, Then He Died.

Its amazing how our lives are simplified without an account of them. Let's face it, Harry Potter's story was shorter, but far more celebrated because seven well-crafted books made him a cash cow, a religious debate, and a hero. William Wallace was a nobody to much of the world until Mel Gibson made the movie, and now his epic is a standard for young men movie watchers.

Then I started wondering if being remembered matters at all. Why am I so obsessed with it? Well, its probably because I'm afraid of dying. Very few people at my age aren't, I reckon. I really hope 1LT Hidalgo was. Ready to die that is. In the sense that he knew his purpose, and when he was shuffled off the mortal coil he had reservations somewhere.

And I'm reading this book called The Name of the Wind. I want to finish it. Because someday (hell or highwater) I'm going to pen my own book. Maybe that'll be my legacy.

Whoa, maybe that's what we need. Do we need a legacy? Do we need children, or stories, or deeds, or something external to immortalize us? Something we did/made with our own hands?

Legacy. Interesting.

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert...Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

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:: 2011 10 February :: 1.13 pm
:: Mood: thoughtful
:: Music: Catfish Muse

I mean tomorrow in the extremely inclusive sense, as in every day in the future. I really dread certain things happening. Like I didn't want IMs to start because I'd be playing out of company with some other group, and I'm not athletically confident anyway, playing with another team wouldn't help that. But I found out that pretty much all of E-1 Glee is playing Flickerball with E-3. Oh, its nice to have cliques of your own.

Also, Summer Training has been published to CiS. Right now I have Buckner (duh), but before that I have Air Assault. Holy shit. I'm intimidated. It'll be a great challenge, and one I have to start preparing for yesterday. I still wish I had Airborne, but I guess I should take this in be grateful. A lot of people wanted Air Assault and I got it, so for everyone's sake I should make the most of it.

Anyway, I survived my Math WPR and only have to get through an Arabic Quiz. Then Glee and Flipper Dinner and I have Thursday night. I don't know what I'm going to do this weekend. Probably try and redownload League of Legends, get a haircut, buy some more hygiene products (esp. dental).

Yeah, whatever.

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