Come Join Me!

wait......what?

Wed, 19 Aug 2009 20:35:07 GMT

So today my little sister Shannon explained to me that it's okay if she picks on people in her mmorpg game with her friend Taylor BECAUSE it's fun and she's on the internet so who cares. I suggested she and I go play outside. She stated she hates the outdoors.

-_- le sigh. Then I thought back to how I was when I was her age. I didn't talk smack, but I sure as well was playing A LOT of AoE online. It was kinda fun though...but I sometimes regret all the time I missed out on bonding with the famfam. As it stands now, I'm realizing more and more that the older I get the less time I'll have with them, since I'll be living my own life in the magical adult world that awed and ooo'd us(or at least me) as children.

so........

Sun, 16 Aug 2009 08:41:14 GMT

Hey livejournal....

I think it's been a pretty long time, neh?
Well, I'm sorry I haven't written anything in here for such an obscenely long time.

At the indirect advice of Lucy, I'll write. "Why not?" heheh. Why not? Why not?

Why not?

.....no idea really. I feel like I'm back in my skin again. Not to say I haven't been back in it, but it feels pretty comfortable now(how long has it been since I've felt this way?). Livable. Though, despite Danny's insistence that my behavior is excusable, my skin wasn't very comfortable the day of and day after the luau.

hu. But it was my first big party I guessss...I just felt out of place for some reason and retroembarrassed about my behavior. I must say again, I like the feeling of ganja more than alcohol. Yet I still drank a lot on purpose, wanting to see if after two+ years of not being drunk had changed my feelings about it. Still the same.

~~~~
Maybe there's something in how we have lights blocking out the night sky. The meteor shower attempt ended in a relaxing yet lackluster event--at least in relation to rocks burning in the atmosphere.

I've been trying to get better at free hand diagramming in anticipation of the school year marching forward. Stanley and I had a three hour long conversation digressing into various topics with architecture as its muse.

Oh! and I saw DMB with my mum last night (08/14). It was actually pretty good. I felt like this time around, they allowed for more of a soloing jam to happen in songs, instead of continuous cord variations. It's been four years since I've seen DMB. Maybe a long, arching epoch of my life has come full circle now.
~~~

A plea

Thu, 27 Nov 2008 07:47:16 GMT

A time in the past:

"...."

"I'm sorry what did you say?"

"...."

"I still didn't catch that. Can you please repeat it?"

"____ I want you to kill me."

"What?"

"I want you to kill me."

(panic and regret)

"_____, I don't want you to talk like that ever again, do you understand me?"

Revision:
"I want you to live. You may not want to exist here anymore, but I like having you around. Please live. Please? If only for me. If only for the other people like me who love and care for you, who don't pity you but genuinely enjoy your company, who take delight in your existence here on this earth."

"They only want what they can get and leave the rest to waste."

"Please ______. Please don't talk like that. I know from what you've expressed to me that it's hard for you to see the light, that things have a way of not working out for you, but we love you. WE do. More than one person. It's not the same, I know that as well, but please please don't make any attempt upon yourself. Don't look any longer at the dust on the floor. Turn to the sky. Turn to the sky and live. We will do all we can to carry the weight, but you have to make the turn yourself."

Yossarian lives!

Sun, 16 Nov 2008 08:11:45 GMT

--Did you see the shape of his eyes? What deceitful eyes.--
--Why didn't you nudge him when I gave the line?--

Yet the wind could never say those things, even though it was glad to stick around. Glint of life in those eyes he had. Pearly concrete and shinning wood could only go as far, but the glass made her blush in delight.

Don't push into them though Johnathan, they are not there. What do you mean, kid? I see them right in front of my eyes. They are as real as real.
Did you not lean in too hard? Mannequins with voice boxes and hollowed eyes. The wind told me so.

The wind told me the sky was blue, but I couldn't believe the absurd lines. Now I do though. I caught it through the leaves as they fell from matchsticks. Smoke got in my eyes though and I had to look away from it.

If the sun could turn its heat down, I would really enjoy it. So hot in this oven.

And their laughter sounded so too. Were you looking in the wrong place? The sound of dry leaves upon hard concrete would better place the setting. Why are you so pessimistic? The world is bright and beautiful.

I don't know. It's just hard for me to see it like you do, she said as she laid the glass on the table and became lost in its reflection. I get so tired, but I like the look of this water in the light. Can you see it? How the lines become strait and then blurred and how I can focus first on the reflection, then the lines or even the cup...

Perhaps my fingers are falling off at the joints and I just don't see it...as the faces in the picture frames melt off of their resting places, for the promises of the past do not carry into the future.

How young last summer was when we had moved out of those dreadful boxes back south, but here we are in new ones with bars in between our souls. When I handed you that pencil and you looked in to my eyes, I thought we would be together forever. Forever floated with those leaves though and didn't come back to meet me where it said it would.

You forget so easy.

The future blends and crashes with the past and the present. Closing eyes in the light allows you to see the red of your eyelids.

Can't you focus?
I'm trying to talk to you.

I'm so tired though, can we talk another night?

You are leaving me in this world by myself. Goodbye I say then.

Wait! We'll have another round and talk until dawn.

Don't drop me off just yet. Keep driving a little longer.
It doesn't seem like we're going fast enough. How fast are we going?

45 mph.

(I wish it were 100 mph....I want to leave this and go.)

I wanted to hold them and tell them it's going to be okay. I wanted to put warmth and happiness into their heart in some way, but I found my body couldn't do it. There was no means of doing so.

Those kids just wouldn't understand him. He's too much his own person and doesn't seek attention...how horribly lonely he must be.

~~~~~~~~~~
This does not reflect my life, for the most part. It's just an idea I had. More might be developed or changed as time marches on.

Another e-letter ripped out and used as a post

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 08:13:27 GMT

Anyway, on to things of a national scale. I wanted to ask you about your thoughts on American policies. Not necessarily in terms of government policies, but the foundation of a capitalist people. It just seems to me that while Americans groan and mourn over international tragedies and the trampling of human rights, very little actually is changed on the matter.

Burma is still not called Burma. Africa continues to deal with guerrilla factions, human atrocities, and large government corruption, which is helped in part by companies based in America.

North Korea still has a dictator.
Child soldiers still fight in many South American countries, the most well known being Columbia.

Drug lords have risen to new heights in Mexico, which still remains horribly impoverished, due to the power vacuum created after hunting down and killing most of the Columbian drug lords of the 80's and 90's.

Yet we are at war in the Middle East, fighting radical Muslims and mercenaries and people that didn't hate us before but sure do hate us now. The Middle East, a land known for its hatred and fear of colonial powers, a land known for its overwhelming numbers of devout and close knit members of the Islamic faith, a land that still continues to wage war on Israel, on Muslim sects, and for a small time on the Russians(of course we were nice enough to provide them with weapons, land mines, military training and the courtesy to leave all those things behind when the Cold War ended, in case the "Reds" tried anything again.)

The "War on Terror" seems more like the "War on Maintaining American Supremacy" and less about stopping any form of terror, least of all our own. But do we have a valid argument in that war? Whether we like it or not, our country my homeland, would fall to pieces without petrodollar currency. A new petroeuro currency would leave my nation in the dust and force my people to return to the 1950's when the rights of the worker were low but American production was high, when returning soldiers actually received a good education and pension for the youth and innocents they lost in war.

I dunno...it's such a volatile time and instead of doing things to help others in our own nation and abroad, we continue to be "against the war" but barely do anything but whimper in the face of government obstinance. The largest war protest in HISTORY was conducted, not in America, a nation filled with people blind with rage and fear, but in Europe.

I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something in that. There's also something in a devolution back to Nixon-esque government policies on information released to the public about its doings. I read somewhere by someone whom I assumed was recognized as a national hero that democracy functions best under constant vigilance by its people over the government officials they elect.

*sigh* I'm losing my train of thought, I think I've lost some point I was trying to get at somewhere in that venting of anger.

But there is something I still wonder about which the people I've discussed it with haven't given me a satisfying answer to: Is there a way not to engage in the act of killing a single human being and still have everyone remain happy or content, even if the government ruling them is not one founded on the people but on the bullet?

Can Burma of Haiti or Africa come out of their fear and be able to take control of their governments without uprisings, violence and death?

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 07:51:07 GMT

Returning from St. Louis I carried these thoughts from me and ripped the following note out of an e-letter I sent to a friend:

I did see my share of racism and bigotry and it was so widespread and taken for granted as something of a joke that I could hardly believe the words flying out of the mouths of those around me. The prejudice against "red-necks" or "hoosiers" as they call them in the mid-west and it saddens me to think that I don't even have a name for people who live in the country. Comments about trailer-parks, low education, idiocy, types of fashion (the pants that most people wear in St. Louis are khakis of all kinds, jeans are seen as something for rare occasions and jean-shorts are the highest offense possible) flew around on a daily basis.

Why is it so acceptable to make fun of and look down upon with the utmost contempt those who have a "country" accent or are generally poor, white Americans? To say anything about an African-American is considered racist and a crime that some get away with on shaky grounds or the fact that they are black. People who live on the outskirts of the cities, of the suburbs, and even in some cases the small towns, are not even allowed the protection of polite refrain of mention and instead are consistently berated by crude jokes on their way of life i.e: marring one's cousin or sister. Everyone and anyone can find a laugh or two from putting on a country accent, crossing their eyes and acting like an absolute buffoon while parading around. No cries of objection. No playful fingers brought to the lips in an ironic way of asking them to stop before someone hears and becomes offended.

And yet it will continue. Living in a trailer park will still be an nice joke to be thrown around without another thought. The poor whites will always conjure up a laugh. Not receiving an education as a white person shall continue its long standing marathon as the least talked about prejudice that ever lived. The bigotry will continue right under the noses of those who hold ever so tightly to their "one black friend."

So while people go on and on over African-American children deserving better education, subsidies and after-school programs to keep them away from crime and towards high education, the call for rural Americans of white--and yes--black and Hispanic backgrounds to receive the same kind of attention in scholastic achievement and upward mobility falls on deaf ears.

Perhaps it has something to do with the high density and media exposure of the urban areas that causes urban problems, such as impoverished African-Americans living in ghettos and rampant drug use and problematic crime rates(due in at least a small portion to police/judge racism), to receive the most attention, particularly in the Obama campaign.

Anyway, the widely accepted racism found in the suburbs of St. Louis also gave me jolts of shock. My cousin stated, and was not kidding, that there was "not a single black person living in a 5 mile radius" around his house. Whenever his black friend from high school would drive to a house party in his suburban neighborhood, he would consistently be pulled over by cops for no other reason than a "fading back left tail light." My mom recounted instances where her older brother David would be pulled over by cops when he was in high school due to the curly black afro he had grown out at the time.

Yet there it was again, played off as a joke, something to be laughed at and forgotten. No discussion over whether or not to make note of it to the mayor or governor. No desire to contact the media.

The families living in the suburbs surrounding St. Louis take it as a matter of fact that police pull over minorities entering the area, and question not whether something should change over the matter.

As someone living in SOUTH Florida, I could neither understand the disregard of prejudice nor the complete lack of minorities in almost every public space I walked into.

*sigh*

To clear up some confusion:
The entire note centered around how my family in St. Louis views comments about lower-class white Americans living in their state, as something to be said as a hilarious joke that enables them to look down upon those who live in the country, and goes on to make point of the fact that police, you know, "law" enforcement officials go out of their way to pull over minorities--largely African Americans--driving through the suburbs.

Laws like affirmative action are unfair when it comes to employment and college admittance. However, laws regarding an increase in educational and commercial spending in impoverished areas(as I point out areas around which trailer parks are located get over looked by media attention) and initiatives passed to make sure all people are treated equally under the law, law in this sense including law enforcers(cops), are entirely just and necessary forms of government.

I need only cite the police brutality and prejudice displayed during the early 90's in Los Angeles as well as the same sort of unfair treatment displayed towards African Americans from 1800-1980 as a valid argument for this fact.

That my family did not see this sort of abuse of power by those entrusted to hold up the law as well as their complete lack of empathy or respect for those of a lesser wealth--in this case "hoosiers"-- greatly disturbed me.

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 07:56:31 GMT

I've begun to move past my doubts over whether or not to continue pursuing architecture. At the thought of construction and creation I actually become giddy, excited to reenter a place I felt comfortable in.

Besides, as Weili pointed out a year or so ago, just because I have a degree in one...can I call it a fine art?...it certainly can be, when placed in resourceful hands and a good client...a wealthy client doesn't hurt either... Writing...

I still want to pick up some minors in foreign languages and maybe another major/minor in something else, probably urban and regional planning. Hopefully room will open for an English class here or there.

I miss my girlfriend. A lot. Though I don't give myself much time to think about the fact that I haven't seen her too often over the summer does not keep my brain from continuing to develop and strengthen its position inside of me... sigh... how comfortable I feel around her...

The supposed lyrics for "0078h" bothered me

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 02:41:33 GMT

So I finally went on isis and switch from Chinese 1 for beginners to architecture history 2...

14 credit hours... man...it just feels like a lot.

Design 3, intro to digital architecture, architecture theory 1, and architecture history 2. Four classes when I've only been doing three, which even then took its toll.

In a way, this is good. I'll have only to take design 4 and materials, methods and construction 1, which would give me a total of 8 credit hours, there by requiring me to find another class or two to bring me to the 12+ credit hours of a full time student.

I need to fulfill a diversity requirement, whatever that means; come on, I live in SOUTH Florida, isn't that enough diversity? Regardless, I'll have to search the course booklet to find classes of that category. Maybe contemporary politics will satisfy that. Again, I'll have to look at teh book.

A small confession: While I'm working on and constructing designs I feel happy and challenged, but after we turn in our last project, I always get the sensation that my chosen field of study just isn't enough for me. I want more. I don't know what it is though...it isn't a sport. Something that people need--that people need which requires honesty, hard work and dedication.

Not an actual office or a thing which will provide payment, but a thing that gives back and helps out.

Yet not a political office, though my dad has often said I should enter the arena of politics. There's too much anger and immaturity still in me for that kind of work, not to mention too much that can be held against me and keep me out of the running. I can almost guarantee that I'd fly off the handle at some jib, rude remark or impatient speaker--people interrupting me talking has always been one of my biggest ticks, especially since I almost always wait for other people to finish. It has something to do with my belief that when people are interrupting me, they were just waiting for me to say something they could disagree with, instead of listening to what I had to say, kind of like raising my hand for a question I want to ask a teacher and not being able to listen to what else he/she might have to say so that I can hold on to the question in my head.

Anyway, maybe I need some sort of volunteer work. Habitat for Humanity. I'm already set on applying for the Peace Corps after I get out of college...I dunno, more thought is required on this feeling I have before I can go out and act accordingly.

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 08:16:27 GMT

Steps on the cement. The walk taken carelessly and full of energy, with a swinging arm and vibrant energy.

How does this exist? How do things like this continue living for almost two decades? Why wasn't it crushed? Why wasn't it broken?

The epitome of youth and joy. How easily the smile breaks upon rounded cheeks and full lips.

What an unappreciative twat I am. Undeserving. Greatest healing given from the most light-hearted words. Without--the most important part--without ulterior motive. Freely and easily. Not expecting, demanding or in anyway hinting at a return or exchange, making me want to give even more.

Free to exist as what I am. Able to feel what it's like to be tickled.

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 06:53:06 GMT

Last night I felt worse than I ever have all summer about anything. This night I had an overwhelming feeling of complete bliss as I drove back to Lucy's from the restaurant we were at. Something about driving at night with friends and good music...something found in the dim yellow streelights and rode ahead. Whatever magic contained within that moment I couldn't recreate. Just a feeling that rarely comes over me and hardly ever involves other people. A different kind of feeling. Content: the closest word I can think of.

M83. One song of theirs I owe thanks too, if only Lucy told me which song it was.

One of the most perfect nights of my life.

Oh creeap

Tue, 13 May 2008 04:24:18 GMT

Apparently I've accidentally stolen two books from the architecture library. So I'll have to mail em back tomorrow I guess, after I check to make sure that it's okay to do so by calling the peoples.

Still looking for a job, again. I really, really liked working in the Broward Mall. Let's say that I work 35 hours a week and make eight dollars an hour, that's $280, minus taxes and all that jazz it comes out to about $250. Then it's about 9.5 miles so multiply that by two and assume that I go there about 5 times a week it equals 95 miles. Divide it by the MPG I get in my car and it equals approximately 5.28 gallons. Multiplying that by an assumed gas cost of $3.78/gallon and we have $20 lost in transit. So $250-20= $230.

It's not bad, I guess. Taking it in terms of a two week pay check and it equals $460.

Yet if I can get somewhere closer, then I'll be making probably about the same amount without the $40 loss for transit cost.

*sigh*

I'll give myself two weeks to find a job here in springs. I've listed about 30 places that I can potentially get a job at. Assuming that I have a 20% chance of getting a job without a reference from a friend, then that potentially means I'll have six job offers by the end of the two week period.

Wish me good luck!

Note to self: must write letters to Papa John, Kelly, Wendy and finish the letter I started writing to Lauren.

also, should redo some of the tectonic elements of my final cube as well as read the rest of the books(crime and punishment, hitchhikers guide to the galaxy) I have in my possession, then return them to the lender(s)(alex flores) after finishing

Important: call back the front desk of Place at 16th about message left today and inquire about the status of the information sent to them via the post office.

Further things to do:
-go see speed racer with the crew
-call up Belle and see how she's doing
-start working out
-possibly go see old teachers from high school, namely Mr.Balkcom, Mrs.Stearns, Mr.Williams, Mr.B, Mr.Wang, and Mrs.Moran.
-in that time I also have the opportunity to wrestle with my old comrades
-maybe have a pseudo high school reunion

Mon, 12 May 2008 08:32:19 GMT

An artist. Really? That's what I've decided on?

Oh but I'm so bad at that. I hate everything I've made and I have no faith in my ability to make it in any form of a real world.

But he believes in me. Is that enough? I talk all the time of money and not being good at anything.

But he encourages me. Why?
If I don't believe in myself, why does he believe in me?
What is this person? What is he really like?

Does anyone know?
Does he even know?

He laughs and carries on, yet can change his whole persona on a dime.

Well. If he's going to try and believe in me, then I'll try and believe in him.
Yet the true make up of his being still lies in shadow.

Ah an artist. With his encouragement, maybe.

Get in your head

Sun, 11 May 2008 07:46:30 GMT

You helped pull me out of the fire, but I forgot to look back and see if it's still burning. When we met in Georgia I thought this was something that would help me forget the summer, but obviously I've grown so attached to you.

How you'd play with my hair and hold me in your arms. The glasses you wear and the smile you have.

With so much love I couldn't understand why you turned cold as the year came to an end. I kept fighting, screaming and crying, yet all my howling never amounted to anything. Our goodbyes for the summer were nothing more than warning shot glares and scowling disappointment.

Maybe I'm just mad because you prepared for the goodbye differently than me. I wanted you to want me and repeat a mantra of staying together over the summer. Though talking every night to you is nice, it only makes me want you here more. To sleep together and watch a movie maybe. After experiencing a full range of emotions with you and washing away the being of the same name, I've forgotten how to feel by myself.

That's the crazy thing about college, I guess. I get away from my parents and high school friends only to wind up growing intimately attached to the people I meet during my first steps towards independence.

Boy, I've grown so numb now. Ha, and to think my heart has been shipped away by someone two years younger than me. In my time, I always thought of myself as older than everyone else in more ways than age, but somehow you made me forget all the scars I have and forget all the craziness that nearly destroyed me during my first few steps back from my long vacation.

Well, it's caught up with me. It's still there, only now I don't have any way of fighting it off. My weapons have rusted. My armor was retired and I'm now lost inside of a head I have no way of controlling anymore. Thoughts flying at a million miles an hour but end up no where. Days have no purpose or fulfillment, simple strings of time falling away into nothing.

Oh sure I still hang out with everyone that we met together, but it's not the same. I can't escape from the crowd and mash my spirit into yours anymore. Our inside jokes are gone. No one laughs at my lameness like you did.

Please write back soon.

P.S. I still remember the day you brought in that cake. I had thought everyone simply had forgotten my birthday, or didn't care enough. You brought tears to my eyes and I didn't want to let go of you.

I love you.
Please, please, write back after you get this.

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 09:51:19 GMT

Child, you better keep your distance
Cus time is gonna catch up with you

Child, you better keep your distance
Cus I'm gonna catch up, I'll catch up with you

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 04:37:31 GMT

I need to write. So here it is me writing.

I need to write to people I know. I need to call up people who I've neglected, like Franky. I feel so bad ignoring his calls. It's like I want to talk to him but then I'm right about to do something at that time, and then I forget that he called me and don't remember again until I stop to reflect upon how much of an asshole I am on more occasions than I realize.

Read the Bible a little bit.
Trying to quite smoking again.

Iunno. Paul Baribeau did somethin to me. Wendy did something. Life did something. School did something. Elaine did something.

I can't say it's been all good fun and laughs since I've gotten back up here as is evident from my last entry, but it'd be a lie to say I haven't tried learning some things.

Maybe I'm about to die and my instincts tell me to try and fix the things I've consistently fucked up since my sophomore year.

Wish me luck.
Pray for me.
I love you guys.

WTF, mate.

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 14:09:57 GMT

I don't think I've had such ups and downs before in my life.

The best thing about Coral Springs is the friends I have there. I know that I enjoy their company and they seem to enjoy mine as well.

Yet here. Here I have studio and my girlfriend and the people in my dorm to hang out with.
Wendy somehow manages to erase all the stress and worries from my life when I'm with her. Almost effortlessly she lifts away all the pain I feel from reading about the Iraq War, trying to finish projects on time, and a million other things that come up in life.

Anyone who's talked to me for a while know how dark my mind gets and how far down I crawl inside of myself to try and destroy everything I find. She pulls me out. It's awesome.

However, she can't be with me all the time and there's only so much talking to people back at home can do. In the end, I'm still here and they're still there. And I always try to avoid putting my internal demons on someone else's shoulders.

But damn it though. I don't know what's going on with the social part of studio anymore. At one point I think I have these really cool friends who help keep me going and at another point I show up early to architecture history, sit down and watch as they all sit either the row behind or in front of me.

The worst part is that one of the closes friends I have up here seems to almost wish that we never had to see each other again. Talking to her I feel a barrier. Her friends that I know and hung out with look the other way when I pass them by on campus. I hear other kids in studio go eat with her and just chill. Cugi sits next to her and talks about life problems he's having. You see where I'm getting at?

All the things we used to do last semester she just does with other people. If this were merely an acquaintance I wouldn't mind, but she was someone I spent a lot of time with. And all of this hurts so bad that silent tears fall down sometimes when I'm in my room thinking about it or when I end up sitting in architecture history by myself, with everyone I know right behind me.

Obviously there's more to this than what I'm saying, but the pain really comes from the lack of explanation for why it's happening. Though I'm too much of a coward to actually talk to her face to face about it, I have written her a note on the matter and hopefully something will come of the effort.

I could keep going to sleep this off and wake up fresh just like I have before, but I'd rather stop avoiding the issue and forgetting about the pain, since it always comes back anyway, and just try confronting it.

Bah.
Anyway. I love you guys. And I only have about a month and a half left here before I head back to Sprangs.

To end Langerado

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 06:57:27 GMT

I'd like to post this video:

Streetlight Manifesto

Tue, 04 Mar 2008 21:30:50 GMT

So she wakes up in time to break down
She left a note up on the dresser and she's right on time
"You don't know anything
right or wrong"
I said "I know" and she said "so"
I want to panic but I've had it so I go
you don't owe anything to anyone

But don't take your life
because it's all that you've got
you'd be better off just up and leaving
if you don't think they will stop

And when you wake up
everything is going to be fine
I guarantee that you wake up in a better place
in a better time
so you're tired of living
and you feel like you might give in
well don't
it's not your time

looking through the paper today
looking for a specific page
don't want to find her full name followed by dates
because when I left her alone
she made a sound, like a moan
"you're known by everyone for everything you've done"
fuck buying flowers for graves
I'd rather buy you a one way non-stop
to anywhere
find anyone
do anything
forget and start again, love
she said she won't go
and that's that

it hurts too much to stand by
you've got to stop and draw a line
and everyone here has to choose a side tonight
the moment of truth is haunting you
don't forget your family
regardless of what you choose to do
you can't decide
and they're all screaming "why won't you?"
I'll start the engine but I can't take this ride for you
I'll draw your bath and I'll load your gun
but I hope so bad that you'll bathe and hunt

Annie's tired of forgetting about today and always planning for tomorrow (tomorrow)
Annie says "The saddest day I came across was when I learned that life goes on without me" (without me)
Annie says "If everyone has someone else, then I ain't got nobody's love to save me" (save me)
Annie says "I think I'll pass away tonight, because it seems I'll never get it right if it's just me" (just me)
Annie says!

And when you wake up
everything is going to be fine
I guarantee that you wake up in a better place
and in a better time
so you're tired of living
and you feel like you might give in
well don't
it's not your time

Annie says "she wouldn't mind if they never find a cure for all her problems" (her problems)
Annie says "as long as she has someone near to make it clear she does not need to solve them" (solve them)
Annie says "oh, this loneliness is killing me it's filling me with anger and resentment" (resentment)
Annie says "I'm turning into someone that I never thought I'd have to be again"

And when you wake up
everything is going to be fine
I guarantee that you wake up in a better place
and in a better time
so you're tired of living
and you feel like you might give in
well don't
it's not your time

Annie's tired of forgetting about today and always planning for tomorrow (tomorrow)
Annie says "The saddest day I came across was when I learned that life goes on without me" (without me)
Annie says "If everyone has someone else, then I ain't got nobody's love to save me" (save me)
Annie says "I think I'll pass away tonight, because it seems I'll never get it right if it's just me" (just me)
Annie says!

and when you wake up
everything is going to be fine
I guarantee that you wake up in a better place
and in a better time
so you're tired of living
and you feel like you might give in
well don't
it's not your time

and even if it was
I wouldn't let you go
you could run run run run but I will follow close
someday you will say "that's it, that's all"
but I'll be waiting there with open arms to break your fall
I know that you think that you're on your own
but just know that I'm here
and I'll lead you home
if you let me
she said "forget me"
but I can't

Philia.

A passage

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 02:28:19 GMT

"My mind is full of random thoughts and they clutter my brain...But I hope I can give you my happiness, my affection, as many hugs as you need, kisses that will make you forget everything else for that one second, and...cookies that I just made. These gifts are always here for you. Unlimited supplies. Any time, any day.

I thank you for always making me smile and laugh, and all the hugs and kisses that you give me--as corny as that may sound--but all those things are really special and important to me.

Thank you."

Whenever I read this, I smile. For some reason it really speaks to me.

thought depot

Thu, 21 Feb 2008 01:11:50 GMT

Everything is everything.

When the word becomes forced, much like the notes forced and not felt, the meaning changes.

I wake up with just enough time to get to class, though Physics seems like an ever elusive dream. Then I go into studio and socialize, think and create. Bah. I wish I had Heart of Darkness with me right now. The internet passages will suffice. "No, I don't like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don't like work -- no man does -- but I like what is in the work -- the chance to find yourself. Your own reality -- for yourself, not for others -- what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means."

While I work and toil over thinking in ways that were never taught to me, I find great delight in the exploration, because one occurrence is not isolated to that particular area. See how you explain things in an essay and watch how your process unfolds into how you talk with others and how you express ideas in other forms of art. I look at how I mismanage money and stand in shock as I see the same mistake repeats itself in how I mismanage friends and relationships, school and words.

Though I work hard on a project model or drawing, I'm diving deeper within myself to find things I didn't know before. Different forms of reality and different programs placed within our daily lives that go by unnoticed but slip deep into our subconscious to alter how comfortable we feel with our bodies and our surroundings.

Yet the conversation...the conversation always ends up being the same...then I feel the other side slipping away into disinterest and apathy, and I think again of the indifference felt from last semester--the madness which grew inside of me. Friendships lost. Soul lost. Mind lost. The only emotions which unfolded inside of me: anger, apathy, depression, lust, guilt...all the darker sides of man. I could see only the darkness and the hole growing bigger and bigger until I became a shell. A hole with the trappings of a man.

When a deep connection is made and the feelings exchanged become one, then each side has the responsibility to find joy, at the very least, for the other's sake. Yet if one half cares not for how the other must feel, the dynamics of the relationship changes. For the one thinks only of the self and not of the other.

So take what you want and leave the rest. It has happened too many times in the span of two years, of a year, of a few months, for me to continue trying to say time and time again what is happening and what has happened. I cannot carry the load. Understanding must be seen on both sides, not just one. Change does not happen with one person. Leaders always travel in groups.

Speaking of leaders, the Shaun Don took 3rd in state and Gunner took 6th. They'll be seniors next year. Ah. My brothers, my comrades, my sons. They came in as Freshmen knowing nothing about the art and form found within wrestling, and here they are becoming men. A sportscaster on ESPEN said that "pressure is earned"--when you start to gain skill in whatever passion you find for yourself, pressures begin appearing and start to place their weight on your ability to perform at the level you expect of yourself...

I wonder how many people at such an early age have faced such a weight. Because it is not just a match, but a battle with the self. The hard work put into getting to that point and the expectations one has, cannot be seen from merely observing a match. It takes such power of will to push out all the imagined pressure, for though it is created only in the mind, the thought pushes down on the chest, finds a way to the stomach and tightens the bones. The physical reality portrays itself as just another game.

To pull the mind out of the tunnel it creates for itself and place it into the realm of physical reality cannot be put into words. I can say all I want to about how it feels to be pressured and what it takes to break away from it, but the emotion feeling would not let itself be known to the reader. It takes the earnest belief that the human being has the power to change to certain extent the default conditions presented to it. It takes the practice of having been in high intensity situations and succeeded--a faith in the power of will.

The belief in the ability of the human to overcome.

For everything on the earth has limitations, but few creatures have the power to change the given into the ideal, and man contains within himself the greatest form of conscious thought known to exist in this dwelling space we occupy, and to take 3rd and by a much lesser extent to place 6th brings that concept into a fleshed out existence.

Donnelly with be the team captain next year, so I gave him some lessons on the things I've learned as a team captain. Do not portray arrogance among teammates or when facing an opponent, for as we all learned for The Scarlet Letter it is a long fall from the ivory tower.

A leader is not found in words, but in actions. Leading by example requires pushing yourself as hard as you can go and enjoying the benefits found from such exploration of the human spirit. When others on the team see that the work you put in enables you to win matches and as they observe the sportsmanship you portray before during and after the match, they will be more inclined to want to push themselves hard as well.

I know this because my first year of wrestling, there was a senior, also named Chris, who pushed himself as hard as he could go in every drill, warm up, and live match we did. When doing the warm up jog, he would make laps around everyone else as I tried my best to keep up with him. From watching him, I was inspired to push myself as hard as I could go, and I could see the results in the condition and shape I formed into. While others were tired, I could do more. When others complained, I grit my teeth and took on whatever task my coaches laid before me.

After Chris graduated, having placed second in state, I continued what he showed me. My coaches and teammates would compliment me on my hard work and Donnelly himself told me that seeing me push myself during every part of practice, encouraged him to do the same. Returning back to watch the County Tournament in January, the coaches reflected upon how everyone on the team knew that if they drilled with me or went against me during live wrestling, I wasn't going to cut them any breaks. I tried always to give it my all, and as a leader I have tried to show the benefits of hard work.

Therefore, I broke into a smile and swelled with pride and joy when I heard that two of the comrades I trained with were able to take home some hardware for all their troubles. We spilled sweat, tears and blood in same room. They are a part of me and I hope I am a part of them.

The Mature Adult

Wed, 13 Feb 2008 01:59:42 GMT

The mature adult is something very hard to come by. The United States defines adulthood as turning 18--the person in question only has to have stuck around for 18 years and he enters maturity, but the true adult and the true maturity dive deeper than a number marking the years of existence.

A truly matured person does not lunge into a fit of rage. I think now to the extremist and terrorist found all over the world. They fight for something using violence and anger, scare tactics and manipulation. Yet examples of positive change are readily available throughout history. Jesus told his followers to never answer violence with violence or to seek change through aggressive means. Mahatma Gandhi never entered a protest armed with a pistol at the hip. Martin Luther King Junior instructed everyone to make change through peace, through setting positive examples.

Of course it can be argued that those methods of change won't work if the people who hold power will kill anyone who stands against them--there needs to be a strong force and a militant coup--but I must ask how many regime changes made through such means don't use killing to solve other problems. The United States, touting itself on freedom, still puts its own citizens to death for crimes against their brothers. Che Guevara still killed hundreds of people after the coup in Cuba and is even stated to have said if Cuba actually acquired the nukes from Russia, he would have sent them to major cities in the United States, killing thousands...for what?...for "change?" And all these people were 18 years or older. Yet the methods through which they influenced the world are different.

A child can fight and scream and holler when he wants something and can't have it. He will fight with other kids and take what he wants. He will demand things without listening to why he can't have them. So how different are militant revolutionaries from children? They have guns and facial hair? They fight for higher ideals? Do they not still take without listening to reason? Do they not still fight without trying to talk?

The adult does not use others for his own personal gain. The adult does not raise a fist at anyone. He talks about what bothers him. He tries to understand the position of the other person and reason with that other side. Few people know that right before Malcolm X was assassinated, he changed his position on how to exact change after visiting India and participating in the pilgrimage to Makkah. He was not bribed or coerced into changing sides. He saw adults and felt moved. He saw people treated equally and at peace with themselves.

Think about how this applies to everyday life. Imagine a world where people did not assume things about each other. Imagine a world where people didn't answer anger with more anger. Try to picture a place that was not ruled by selfish, aging children, but by free thinking, conscious and considerate adults. They aren't in it for themselves. They understand the importance of balance between body and mind, not indulging to much in either one but continuously trying to improve each aspect--creating an internal harmony which then projects outward to all the people they come into contact with. These people know the importance of parental guidance but understand when they have to make a stand and begin doing things which demonstrate the ability to take on more responsible and independent roles.

The adult sees that everyone has important aspects which the local, national and global communities need in order to live more fully. He sees that the doctor is no better than the store clerk. They both work hard to provide for the community they live in. The athlete and the intellectual both have much to learn from each other.

These ideas aren't very developed. But there is one thing that I try very hard to live by:

The adult takes responsibility for his actions and controls his emotions.

Happenings

Fri, 08 Feb 2008 08:35:46 GMT

Very, very long over due pictures from design 1 that aren't even complete b/c I don't have the processes work on this computer. But this does contain the matrix and the terrestrial events projects in their final forms.

</a>

Overview of the matrix model. A matrix is defined by a series of systems which work together to form a whole and show--more or less--singular idea. I'll explain the rest of the idea after the pictures.

don't mind the leaf =)

The center of the matrix.

Diagram of a picture which we were given, later moved to transparent paper and put to the back of the model. The lines aren't crooked--it's just a mistake on my part because they are two papers put together and they weren't lined up correctly when I scanned them. The first and darker layer is ink on mylar while the layer behind it is pencil on vellum.

Anyway, we first started with that drawing and then we did a 45"X9" itinerary, using textural rubs from around campus. An itinerary is a conceptual pathway throughout a construct, in this case the construct is UF. The textural rubs were moved to sticky-back and placed on four different sheets of plexi-glass(I forget the dimensions). These were supposed to work as a system. After shifting the plexi sheets, they were cut to show either registration across a space or add new negative spaces to the model.

The wire used in the model acts as an armature for the itinerary, with the scale brought down to 35"X5". Keeping the itinerary in mind, the chip board unfolds the itinerary, giving it greater depth than the initial drawing.

Color highlights the movement of the wire construct and and turns darker in areas of higher elevation. While the curved wire is faint, it is another way of showing the same progression throughout the model.

So...yeah...lol. There are many systems within this one model that, as a whole, show two things--a centralized point of low density and an itinerary. /lj-cut>

</a>
Top left is the construct to espy the atlas and the bottom right construct is to raze the atlas.

Top view with the loft on the bottom left, raze on the top left and espy in the center. I don't know if you can see entomb on the top right or not. Also on the top leftis the three dimensional version of the angulated plain(hill/mounds) on the top right.

front view

top left view

angled left view. Now you can definitely see entomb on the top right

top view of the loft.

scanning drawings sucks! The line weight never comes out right! I need to reshoot this picture with a DC
Long-section cut with the atlas constructs and the loft exploded out into axonometric views.

The process is long...
we were first given four areal photographs of different landscapes and asked to make ten diagrams(crescent board: 10"X5" using generating terms such as territory, measure, trajectory, edge, surface, rhythm... Afterward, we were told to make a vertical section cut(15"X5"), imagining what's behind the diagrams we drew and a horizontal section cut(15"X1.5 to 2.5"), assigning depths to the drawings.

The next step required us to beginning cutting the new diagrams we had made in a way that would somewhat show the ideas drawn on them. In fact, the 3D transition I have was taken entirely from the vertical section cut of edge. Placing these new drawings into an artificial armature that could hold up vertically between 10 and 15 of the reformed diagrams first, we then placed the remaining 10 to 5 reformed diagrams horizontally, taking a big step towards what would become the final models.

Throughout this time we were supposed to be documenting our process through scanning, sketches, and pictures of our ideas. Once we moved towards the artificial armature, bringing the project into a more three dimensional realm, our next step required that we create three constructions which would hold the atlas in different ways. Thinking about our models as actual terrains, the constructions are places the atlas could be viewed. Given three generating terms--raze, espy and entomb--we built the small models in accordance to the definitions of the words provided and the function of the space. I placed them in the areas where the 3 hills would begin to peak.

Entomb appears in front of the first hill and in an area of darker shadows. I kept the spaces almost completely covered and the transitional spaces are narrow.

Espy extends from two different elevations with no one view point able to see the entire surface of the other. The atlas would then be placed in the open space between the two.

Raze receives the general density of each of the three hills and then breaks up the scale in its center.

The loft we created functions as a place in which to take areal photographs of the field below it.

the pictures are very bad, architecturally b/c they don't necessarily emphasize ideas I have within the model. I still need to take many, many more photos before I'm happy.
/lj-cut>

Mustache pictures tomorrow! or you can check them out here: http://ufl.facebook.com/album.php?aid=27286&id=655726808

Onomatopoeia

Sat, 26 Jan 2008 10:40:23 GMT

Bang. Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang.
Rat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat click.....click click....
Tchink...dot dot...BBbBbOoooOoooooooOoOoOmmmMMMmMmmm sheeeeuuuuussshhhhh waaasssssshhhhhhhhhh.

Tsshhooooooooooooooo.....boooooooom.

Rat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat click click click...click....click.....

Wed, 16 Jan 2008 16:01:47 GMT

iTunes just raped my library.

Mon, 14 Jan 2008 10:09:57 GMT

I remembered today that in 5th grade my Dad gave me the choice of either owning a guitar or taking golf lessons.