Fate

Google the Fates!

So what does everyone think about fate, anyway? I’m not normally a big fan of the concept. I much prefer free will, but it seems sometimes much like I’m destined to do certain things. Today I had a complex series of events that led to a couple of rather fortunate occurrences. I changed a couple of plans and was rewarded for following my gut. It just felt right and I’m somewhat stimulated by the serendipitous results of those decisions. I mean, I didn’t expect to meet someone that would reinforce some of my thoughts so much in just one evening, nor did I expect to happen to be in the right place for a friend without any real forethought to the discussion. Typically I can see it coming at least to some extent. In this instance, however, I had no expectations of it whatsoever. I suppose given effort I could’ve expected it, but I didn’t spend that effort. I just flowed with the sequence of events. Makes me think, I’ll admit. I can’t help but wonder about all things philosophical in relation to such good luck in successive sequence. Then again, the Taoist in me disagrees with that thought. I do still tend much towards Taoism and that the events are neither good nor bad, instead they are just events. I can apply meaning to them, but they don’t have inherent meaning. For some reason, however, that’s a much easier school of thought to maintain while the times are bad. When times are good I’d much prefer the thought that somehow a force, be it God, the universe or the fates, is looking out for and planning out the positive events in my life.

Mashup

Beethoven\’s Fifth Gold Digger (Kanye West vs. Beethoven vs. Walter Murphy)

I gotta admit. I do find the notion of a mashup very very interesting. I’ll have to pursue more examples of it. Here’s an example to begin the blog entry. Perhaps it will make the reading of this entry more interesting. Mashups are of course the combination of two or more songs, typically pop songs. My opening salvo here is Beethoven’s Fifth Gold Digger (Kanye West vs. Beethoven vs. Walter Murphy). Fairly interesting combination, that one. Check out Best of Bootie 2006 CD for more information. I’m sure you can google it. It’s just such an interesting concept to me. Taking two disparate influences and forging them into a new, hopefully more stimulating package. Breathes new life into old songs. I don’t know whether or not I’ll ever pursue the creation of such songs or use them as anything more than highly enjoyable listening, but it doesn’t really matter either way. I suppose there’s something to be said for such an art, and I’ll keep you updated as I find more out about it.

The Corals – Dreaming of You

What’s up with my heart when it skips a beat,
cant feel no pavement right under my feet,

up in my lonely room
when im dreaming of you
oh what can I do
I still need you but
I don’t want you now

when I’m down and my hands are tied
I can not reach a pen for me to draw the line
from this pain I just cant disguise
it’s gonna hurt but I’ll have to say goodbye

up in my lonely room
when im dreaming of you
oh what can i do
i still need you but
i dont want you now

oh yeah

up in my lonely room
when im dreaming of you
oh what can i do
i still need you but
i dont want you now

Interesting stuff, really. Just as songs go. The lyrics are excessively simple and the music is very repetitive. I’m trying to use prompts to stimulate more writing and make the entries I write more focused. It’s harder than it seemed to write using a prompt, actually. I suppose I’ve fixated upon this song as of late because I miss feeling this way. I miss having someone in my life that affects me so much. I mean some of it rings true, admittedly, “up in my lonely room” is somewhat familiar, although my room is not really above anything so it’s rarely up anywhere. However, “when I’m dreaming of you/oh what can I do/I still need you but/I don’t want you now” is a little less direct. I find myself switched around there. I do still dream of you, but I don’t need you, I only want. It’s a much harder impulse to acknowledge. Seemingly a need is undeniable and thus easily excusable, but a want is selfish and much harder to justify. The opening is more what I am nostalgic about: “What’s up with my heart when it skips a beat/can’t feel no pavement right under my feet.” Very few people, women actually, have made my heart skip a beat as of late. My feet seem planted upon the pavement whenever paved surfaces are available to me for walking. I can think of a few people with whom this has happened, but it is a very short list and those women are largely unavailable for various reasons. Had a chance with one, but I think fate has intervened and I won’t get a chance to expand any possibilities. I don’t know why, but I suppose it’d be better than just losing at the game again. I sometimes wish I knew what the rules were, at least a little better.

Psychic Vomit

I don’t really know what it is I’m going to write about, honestly. I probably should be asleep, but I only write here late at night anyways. I’ve got SportsCenter on in the background, so there’s not just lights keeping me company. I think I may turn it off and change the mood up a little bit. Change to internet radio and all. Listening to “Bedtime Tunes” now. If anyone out there wants the url, let me know, but for now I’m working on the assumption that it’s just me and my thoughts out here in the cyber wilderness. I do enjoy some good wordplay, and I need to find more interesting pairings of words. The use of pairs of pairs may help to pare down the inadequacy of my self-expression. Or another good one: Effecting an affect may affect the effect your actions have on other people. I’m not so happy with the lack of succinctness at the end. I’m also not so happy with succinctness having just been forged into existence. I think I can claim that one as a made up word from my own vocabulary. Now that I’ve run spell check and received no flags on that one, I suppose it’s not my own invention any more. I find myself stuck on a precipice as of late, what that means psychologically, I couldn’t tell you. But I will despite my lack of clarity on the subject.

It feels like I’m at the top of a mountain. Relevancy, your honor? I can either push off and explore the fruits of my labor, having climbed up to this peak, effectively gliding and using gravity to further my own ends while simultaneously managing to destroy the only tangible benefit from my expended energies. Why should I have climbed such a mountain without any desire to stay atop it? Also significant would be the notion of jumping off a cliff. That largely depends upon what props I’ve brought for the interpretation. Without any, it’s simply a sad allegory for self-destruction and suicide realized through mental anguish. With a parachute, it’s isolation and solitude, separation and meditation, meditation and loneliness. I feel so alone as of late. Even though there are people around me, pretty constantly and many of them care deeply about me. Some of them do not, but it seems it’s rare to actually feel the connection I’m so desperately seeking as of late.

I find some occasional satisfaction in dance. Something about forcing someone into your arms for three minutes that ensures a stable connection more so that Ensure would provide stable nutrition. That’s a stupid reference to make, but this entry has been coined psychic vomit for a reason. No judgments, just spew. I can’t stop to think about what it is I’m writing for fear of losing it. The flow. The thoughts. The efficiency. If I don’t stop, I can’t doubt. I just go with it. I miss Jeana. Hopefully she’s having a good time of it in London. I know I had a stressful time when I went to Ukraine, and I hope that with less of a language barrier she’ll do well. I don’t really have much of a right to miss her, while she is a friend of mine, we don’t spend nearly as much time together as she does with many of her other friends.

Icarus. I don’t know why, just flow with it. Just go with it. Just don’t stop writing, please. Flying, falling, Latin. Associated? I doubt it. Who really knows anymore, though. I do need to review my Latin for the coming semester. Oh yeah, and order the books online. Dr. Tobin gave us the information we would need to acquire the texts over the interweb more cheaply than through the bookstore, but I do need to take care of that. I also need to acquire tap shoes for class in the Fall. I need to organize a lot of things. I need to start being President. I need to figure a budget. I need to naturalize into Nevada. Why not, eh? I have no home if I don’t accept Nevada at the moment. I feel like an Oregonian, but truthfully I lost that when my parents moved. I’m angry with them about that, yes. I shouldn’t be, but I am. Or perhaps I should be, but I just like feeling conflicted. I don’t really know, honestly. Conflict does seem to be a common theme. How else do things work, but by working against one another?

House music is really just quite lovely, if I may say so. I need to find some way to keep it playing in the background at all times. Perhaps if I worked in a European bar I’d get my wish. I should probably find a job at some point. Yes I’m playing piano and making money, but that’s hardly a large source of income. I bit over two hundred for the month. I could make a hundred or two weekly if I were to play organ for a church. Maybe I can manage to find a way to play the weekends I’m not playing for Holy Cross somewhere else. I have done all this paperwork and training, after all, and I shan’t abandon them unless someone were to push me away.

Airman!

It just popped into my head, so I went and got it. Obviously not personally relevant only because I’m not a fanman. It’s supposed to be funny, but I just never got the memo. Why not? My fax is broken. Good enough explanation, let’s move on. I wonder how productive it would be to simply write like this for an entire day? I’ve been at this one for about twenty minutes now, and I’m still under one thousand words. I’m at 966 by the count on the side. 969 now. It’s sure to go up in less than a minute with it autosaves. Now 988. It’s rising as I type. Funny how that one works.

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I don’t even want to write any more right now because I hit 1000 words exactly before that break above this text. Mild OCD, I suppose. I have to take care who I tease about that. I have to take more care who I tease. It’s just not something that’s as kosher as I’ve assumed it was. I’m becoming more self-aware as of late. I’m quite a jackass. No joke. It’s unfortunate, but true. Very self-assured and I seem to enjoy pushing people well outside of their comfort zones. Not so much to stimulate them, as much as to scare them. Just to see them react and then they’ll be alive. So many people are no more than mannequins these days, anyway. It’s frightening who all lets themselves be posed. It’s harder still, though, to pose people than to be posed. Self-determination isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, anyway. Michael J. Fox does good work. I just saw him on Scrubs. Speaking of OCD.

Somewhat of a superdoctor, but with a fatal flaw, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He hoped no one would see him in his weak moment, but most of all he refused to dump his problems upon another’s shoulders. He stood alone and dealt with it, then offered himself freely to others. I shouldn’t take moral guidance from Television, but as a good media consuming member of the public, it seems only appropriate that I adapt according to external stimulus such as television. I’ll force parallels to exist where they don’t in a frantic attempt to empathize with a flashing box. Just because it glows is no reason to worship at the altar. Altars are overrated, anyway.

Sorry Jesus, I just don’t know sometimes. I’ve been thinking about this whole religion thing as of late. Yeah, it does make a lot of sense fairly often. More often than I’d like to admit. I think sometimes that I only deny religion out of sheer stubbornness. No good, justifiable reasons, just because I’d have to concede such a basic question to other people. See, it’d be comforting to join a religion and take away the responsibility. If God exists and cares for me, then He must have a plan, and I wouldn’t have to fear anymore. I’d still have to work for it, of course, but I wouldn’t have to shoulder the burden alone. A cosmic superhero would always find the time and energy to help. The morals are good, and the ideas effective, but the reasons just don’t mesh with me. I’m too inquisitive? No, I just can’t stand to be comfortable. I find ways to rock the boat. I do it with my girlfriends. No sexually, obviously. Immaculate virgin and all that. That sentence brought to you by the Department of Redundancy Department. Another forty five words and I’ll have hit 1500 count for the entry. If I break this paragraph at that point, I’ll have one section of 1000, and one of 500. Then will I have one of 250? Seems logical.

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So this one can only be 250 words long, eh? Somewhat restrictive. As Drake liked to say, freedom comes from restraints. A completely open slate is overwhelming. We have to have boundaries to push against, however ill-defined. I need to take an art history class or twenty. Landscapes would seem to be so simple and yet that definition has been pushed and poked and prodded and painted and pluralized past any plausible definition that would adequately describe anything. The meaning is so diluted that now even the landscape doesn’t know what it is. A self-aware concept, bite me. I don’t mind, personally. My fancy has been tickled. I hope that years from now I look back at this and read it and wonder who was that guy that hacked into my account and wrote all this. So far away from the undefined and warderlust that has stricken my thoughts and that I’ve managed to organize into a cohesive, efficient, effective thought process. Not this awkward, unwieldy method of decompression. Should I try to aim for a certain number of words, or shall I continue my silly halving exercise? If so, I’d have a paragraph or three totaling 125, then 63, then 32, 16, 8, 4, 2, 1. Then I’d be done, of course. But it’s getting there that proves to be the challenge. If it weren’t for such challenges, I don’t know why I would bother, really. Yes, I did intentionally force my pattern to conform to powers of two. Bite me. Somewhere else but harder. Three more words.

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Now this one can only be of 125 word length. What can I do with that amount of space, anyway? More than an Ant would. Should an Ant type, the subject matter would bore us two-legs to death. The four-legs may be able to associate with it and hang, but I doubt any anthropologist would study it for long. Unless they could prove some level of connection with evolution. I’ve not even written a sum total of 100 words yet in this section. I’ve grown more interested in my numbers game than actual content. Apologies if someone is actually slogging through this mental muck. Dredge and disrepair are good indications of an efficient mind. Wait, no the opposite of that. 1875 is the magic number now. Two more.

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This one gets a grand total of 64, eh? I’m aiming for some number. Let’s see. 1875 plus 4 would give me 1879. Then add in 60 more and I’m at 1939. Good year? I have to hope so, as I have no way of finding out whether that’s an accurate description. Suppose anything that close to a world war has to have some value. After 1939 will come 1971. Pretty sweet!

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Thirty two words is not a lot of space to say very little. Perhaps if I had more available I’d be more quiet. Ah paradoxes my old enemy. Not old, just familiar.

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1986 was a good year from what I hear. I was unfortunately born the one thereafter.

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1994 was something with basketball. I’ll look another time.

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I’ll abbreviate the end.

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Now 2000.

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Fin.