Apoo

Yeah, I'm bored.

Those aren't my words, but I felt like sharing them.

More to come.

Death is but a doorway, time is but a window, I'll be back.

A: When I look back at my life, I can't help but see an inevitable chain of events.
B: That's ridiculous.
A: Do you even believe there could have been any other outcome than this?
B: That's not how it works. There is no grand story to history.
Things just happen. It's the act of looking back on it that interposes a sense of narrative.
A: And yet here we are, just as we were always going to be. Doesn't that drive you mad?
Don't you hate yourself for it? For never having seen it coming until now?
Every little thing is so painfully obvious now, isn't it? Now that it's too late, you have all the answers, don't you?
B: It's not too late.
A: It is for some people.
B: Are you trying to goad me?
A: You know it's going to end here.
B: Just like it was always going to, right?
A: You're catching on. One last thing, do you remember when we went to Gurgu?
B: Yes.
A: Why did you do it like that?
B: We thought it'd be funny.
A: Heh. That was funny, wasn't it.




I'm going to look back on this one day and think it's hilarious.

I'll kill them all anyway, but at least we can laugh about it.

波動拳

Life is funny.
You start out with limitless potential, but time is always shaving away the possibilities.
Every choice you make is the choice not to do a thousand other things.
What's important, when all is said and done, is that you made a difference.
Your choices, and everything undone, have to mean something.
Otherwise, what was the point?
I'm lucky that way.
My path was already there.
I had only to walk it.
I often thought even if no one knew of the good I had done with my life, it didn't matter.
That it was done is all that counts in the end.




But then I died.




And I hadn't gotten to do any of it yet

IMPORTANT!

Go watch this, go watch it now...all of it!

Apocalypse, Now?

I've been told that we were reviving this blog that no one reads, so I thought I would come back and see what, if any, Tim and Mitch have contributed anything since the revival. And yessiree, there was.

After reading Tim's last post, I felt really compelled to write something as well. Since he was rambling about life, his and in general, I figure I'll go in the same vein. I'm glad to hear that you are getting A's and doing well in school, Tim, it's not an easy task. I honestly don't know how to you put up with such a dreadful institution. Education does get in the way of learning, I suppose, as Einstein said once. The thought of schooling makes me break out in cold sweat.

But yeah, reading Tim's post, fuck, felt like poetry. Don't expect anything like that in my entries.

One thing that really got to me was the Facebook comment. I, for one, think it's the evil incarnate. It's the disintegration of society as we know it. Why do people even feed into all the preposterousness of it all? Statuses, liking comments, walls. Fuck off. If you cared enough to know what's going in someone's life, pick up the goddamn phone, or at worst, text.

No one cares that you're on the toilet playing chess, or your dog is playing basketball, or that you're out with your mom fingering a goat. Especially all of which in a "status comment". And, of course, someone's bound to fucking "like" it, and thinking that these tidbits of your pointless activities mean something, you post more, and that gets read and "liked" again, and the whole vicious cycle continues. Those people deserved to get slapped. By a canoe paddle.

Sigh, whatever.

So, on some lighter news, I made finalist in a screenwriting competition! Yay! But I didn't make the top five. Boo! Will this have gotten me an awesome career in Hollywood? Probably not. But it would've felt good to get *some* validation.

Sometimes I sit here and think how far do I take this? Do I, should I, ever stop this dream? Should there be a point in my life where I should just stop? I know this road wasn't going to be easy, but what choice do I have? I don't have any trade skills, $20,000-$40,000 piece of paper that tells people that I have an education in fill-in-the-blank, or a backup goal.

I know it's not too late to do any of those things, but do I really want to be 40 and still paying off student loans? No, no I do not. I'd rather finger a goat.

I've been thinking about this "silly" dream of mine and reflecting on it lately. I honestly don't want to live at home until I'm over 30. I want to feel that freedom, that independence. But that means I'll require a steady 9-5 so I can afford rent and food. It's not the end of world, I know, but don't tell that's not soul-crushing in the least. My parents are also getting old and I've been told that they are on a waiting list to move into a retirement home in a couple of years, so I can't stay with them even if I wanted to. I really need to get out.

Ultimately, no, I don't have skills that'll make me money, that expensive piece of paper, or a plan B. Then why am I here complaining on a blog that no one reads instead of actually doing something about it? Hmm. I think Tim's post inspired me. Instead of sitting on my ass wah-wahing in front of my computer, I really should just go do something about it.

Back from the Dead

Yo,
what's up internet?
Missed me? Missed us? The blog that no one cares about?
Oh, I'm sorry. One person has been reading this for the past two years, when nothing has been posted. What a loyal soul.

Things have changed. Probably for the other two as well, but for me, the German guy of the group, things have definitely changed.
Don't mind me going a bit emotional on this, but right now, this period of my life, things are not going that well.
Who am I kidding? Getting almost straight A's in university. That's awesome! No longer being in Germany, but studying in Canada. That's awesome!

What seems to be the problem with me then? That unsettling feeling that I am doing bad on every test I write and yet manage to do well. A "B" does not bother me when it is presented in front of me, but the thought of it just downright kills me.

Perfectionism is a pretty stupid thing to have. I wrote an essay about it. The night before it was due. I only got about two hours of sleep that night.

Rambling. That's what blogs are good for.

Love. School. And all of those crazy things.

And sometimes video games. Playing Guilty Gear X2 Accent Core. Have a beautiful time!

Funny? No. I don't even want to prove read this, so don't mind typos and fallacies.
I haven't really downloaded any new music in the past few years, and yet, the stuff I still listen to makes me feel better whenever I do listen to it.
I wish I could find the strength to do math and go into the Science program, and not the Arts program of Psychology. I want to work with music, therapy - all of those things - those things that seem to come natural to me and make me happy (sometimes).

Gaming goes well, love bothers me, and I still have to tell someone that I made a trip across an entire ocean to study... and be with that certain someone. Scared. Probably.

Canada is great. It allowed me to get in sync with myself a bit more. A bit. I am doing shit by myself now. Living, cooking, cleaning, -studying- again. I should feel great about these things. Especially because I'm getting those good grades now. I used to be used to C's and D's. Now it's A's and occasionally B's. And yet I don't stop there. I want to push myself further.

And I have 'connected with society', by having joined farcebook. I feel so dirty, but it is a great tool of staying in contact with people from Germany, or other people that do not get on messengers anymore or answer e-mails frequently. Goddamn it. I have joined the tool of society that makes us regurgitate mindless phrases that aren't our own and post about what we have done or what we want to do. Fucking pick up the phone or write an e-mail. I'm sick of these "no one will miss me, when I'm dead" people.

But it's not that we can fight it anymore. I'm coming more and more to realize that some things in this world are just the way they are supposed to be. And it's our own fault. Look at it. I'm not even writing this in a diary. This might be for two simple reasons: a) I want to share my own thoughts with others (despite the fact that no one reads this, at some point in time, some person comes across this and will think about it, think about the mistakes that have been made, think about the way they're living their lives, and then realize that they've got out of touch with reality and the real people in their lives.) and b) I'm saving my hand-writing for my studying.

So, what are the problems?

Reluctance to cope with problems.
Yeah, fucking shit. I am writing about these things. This is somehow coping with things, but it took me so long to actually get started on it. Talking with people about problems is hard, because we tend to believe that "no one cares." Why? "Hey, how are you?" Inane. You don't care about it. If you cared about it, you'd take the time to stop in motion, continue to talk, and accept something other than "Fine/Good/Awesome/Other deviations of being in a good mood."
I want to listen to your problems. You can trust me for this period of time. I want you to feel that you are being understood by someone. I want to help you.
But not - we are not used to that. People do not listen anymore. Unless it is about them. Talk about something good in our lives, not theirs. Screw that.
And therefore, we hesitate, swallow our pride and let it accumulate inside of us, until it eats us up.

Social age. What the fuck happened to us? Elbow-society. Expectations. Get that car. You got a child. Get another car. Get that good job, that wife, that house, that yacht - you need to have them to be a good human being. And pay your taxes.
Do well in school. Only if you do well in school you can be loved, liked and appreciated by others. That's how it goes. And they get us, too.
Then you want to do better. And you want to get those things. That's what we're being told.
Wait, no. Al Bundy is having a miserable life. I can laugh at that and feel better about my own misery. Shifty eyes. Stop and think about your life.

Stop and help that lady. Stop and talk with that person next to you who seems down (unless they seem like they carry at least one knife). Stop. Movement is everything. Stop. Yes. Movement is good. Moving backward, forward. Just stopping is bad. Is it?

Stopping is a part of motion as well. It helps us to have some time for ourselves. We have to get back to ourselves and be a little bit more egotistical. Thinking about ourselves seems to be a dead end in this argument. Or explanation. But no.

What do we really want? Do we want to climb the highest of all career ladders and have others hail to our throne? American Psycho style, that is. Freaking out at someone having a better business card than we do. Hell yeah, that's the life.
Do we want to comply, conform?
Sure, some of us want to, because that takes less effort than unplugging the phone, turning the mobile and the laptop off. Then we look at them, sitting in their small, self-made prisons, with subtle, life-wrecking torture mechanisms, while we take a nice stroll out in the night.
Breathing that fresh, crisp air, while the moon shines upon us and tells us that there were different times to all of this.

Some day, friends, we shall become the human race again. There are so few of us who want to make a change in this world. People who sincerely care about others. People who are not recognized for what they do, because kindness is still mistaken as weakness.

I'm totally not making a point here, and you know why? Because I blame myself for letting it come this far. Just say it is because I'm very emotional and in love. That allows my argument to be not credible at all.

If you excuse me, I have to entertain myself with something else than making my misery public, and being a jack ass by doing so (because I should go outside and do something instead).