Give me options, or give me death!
Social Psych this semester: 78 MC in 12 minutes
Intro Psych freshman year: 120 MC in 22 minutes
BBB: 75 MC and more short answers: 24 minutes
I take tests inordinately fast, and it makes me feel awesome. Students and teachers alike are left in awe, their faces pricelessly aghast when shortly after receiving the test, I hand it back in.
Ah…
In the fourth grade musical production at my elementary school, I starred as Peter Pan, singing the song “I Won’t Grow Up.”
I’m pretty sure I have internalized that more than should be reasonable or rational. In some ways, this is good. Grow old, but not up, ya know?
But I think this has also plagued my thinking, in regards to my work ethic. I pretty much always find legitimate reasons to put off my work, whether it’s doing things for or with friends/family, playing guitar, or experiencing life, I almost always sacrifice my work, saying “I’ll have plenty of time for work later, I need to live life now.”
This attitude shows no sign of stopping, and while I’m hanging on by the skin of my teeth now, I don’t foresee things getting any less work-like. In fact, I expect it all to increase. But I can’t seem to shake the attitude. Everything else has become so much more important to me… much more important than music papers and article reviews and busy-work bullshit. But I know that it’s all important… I just don’t consider it to be that important in comparison to the other things in my life.
Growing up sucks… so I won’t do it.
While “writing” this paper I’d really rather not be writing, I was instead thinking on the apparent injustice of doing things we don’t want to do. One, that this feeling is extremely childish, and I hate myself for considering it, for being so foolish. Two, because everyone has to do it, many much more than others. Most in this world have to work the asses off for little reward, just to survive. This is more unjust, I think, than me having to do a stupid paper. I hate myself for this as well.
But I was also thinking a lot about religion, again. This past Sunday I attended a black Baptist service, and I have to tell you, it was extremely interesting. There are somethings that one simply can not understand without experiencing them, and the black experience in America is one of them. I got a tiny taste of it in this church service… incredible. Essentially, faith is used as an energy source, a point of security that African-Americans can hold on to in their lives, much more so than other groups, I think. Anyway, back to the point I’m trying to make…
We work for our paychecks, we work for our grades, we work for any accomplishment. But when you have to work just for your life, for the lives of dependents, what is the reward? Survival itself is no reward, and neither is just living. We are thinking and feeling creatures, capable of great cooperation and success, capable of seeking out a “Why?” So when life is so harsh, so difficult that it’s all many can do just to earn a meal to eat and a place to sleep, never mind such things for their families, I get confused and frustrated.
An afterlife makes the toil of this life mean something, it’s the ultimate goal. In a way, this belief makes it easier to make it through life. I think this is another meaning for what Marx meant by religion being the opiate of the masses…
I struggle to find this kind of personal meaning, especially when life is often so tough. We work, time ticks on, then it’s the end. And for what? I wish I felt the reason why. I can think it… I can come up with dozens of reasons. But I don’t always feel them, can’t always know.
So yeah, there you go, retro-Andrew style post, instigated by an ending of another semester in college. I hate the end, even of middle-of-my-life things, because they’re all foreshadowing the ultimate end, and I hate that.
I needed to get some of that out of my system.
This is one of my most favorite comic strips ever, mostly because I feel the exact same way.
It’s quite easy, in the hustle and bustle, to forget how absolutely fragile and precious life is. When we are constantly bombarded with “survivor” stories, which are by no means a bad thing, I think it’s easy to lose track of this.
I mean, just look at a little kid, or a baby. Look at how small they are, how helpless. Something could just come by and WHAM, that’s it. It can happen to anyone, for that matter. I’m constantly reminded of flowers when I think of the lives of people… so sensitive to the environment, to being stepped on or destroyed by the elements, and so beautiful (in essence, if nothing else).
I guess if one were to combine this post with a previous one, life is a flower, fed by care (and love). Smothering and neglect have the same effect… everyone needs a little nurturing in their own way. Some flowers like a lot of sunlight or nitrogen-rich soil, while others are dependent on a host for their nutrients. Value is in the mind of the perceiver, yet all have a right to existence in their own fashion. More importantly, a diverse garden is always more enjoyable to walk through and spend time in… humanity is just a more complex garden.
Something to keep in mind.
Also, posting is going to be sparse. It’s finals time, and I have lots of work, so don’t expect scheduled posts. I’m sorry.
The buying of future necessary utensils. Today, I went out and got myself a grill spatula, and a beast of a flipper it is.
I’m happy because this marks the first time in my life when I’ve bought something as mundane as cookware solely for myself, for my use. In the past, it has always been communal. So this is impressive for me.
I’ve been waiting to make this post for a short while.
I’m proud to present two blogs, fairly related. The first is Greenthorne.com. This is a co-op blog, managed by my Aunts Robyn and Danielle. The earliest focus is on their trip to Alaska, which was really cool, and features many awesome pictures. Bask in their collective awesomeness.
Second is my Aunt Danielle’s blog Mojovator.
MOJOVATE [mō'jō'veyt]
1. to magically stimulate others to create or engage; 2. to inspire oneself to perform exceptionally
I sincerely hope they both maintain the effort necessary to keep these updated at least remotely frequently, because they both have great things to say, all the time. So once again, patronize these fine establishments.
I generally don’t do what people don’t want me to do. This is why I’m usually not a jerk to people, or annoying. I’ll really only impose myself when I feel something is wrong or could be better, or I feel I have something valuable to add to the situation.
So if people don’t want me around, I won’t be around; I’m not going to waste my time and energy if I’m not valued. Most of the time, these sentiments of “you are unwanted” are not expressed directly. Rather, the once held sentiments of “you are wanted” dissipate in a significant way. I always give the benefit of the doubt when I can, because mistakes happen, but I also think I read the signs pretty well. Repetition of forgetting becomes a very good excuse, and I’ve seen it too often before to assume coincidence.
Which is why I have been eating by myself more often lately.
The tides of fortune, I suppose.
Went to a concert on Wednesday night. It was fucking AMAZING. I was getting pumped for it, but when I arrived (a little late because some asshole had to wreck on the Merritt Parkway) it really hit me how great this was gonna be. I met my brother Mike and my friend Alex there, scarfed down the two hot dogs they brought me, and got in line to get searched and enter the Chevrolet Theatre (previously the Oakdale).
Let me tell you now, I wasn’t too sure about our tickets. I couldn’t find our seats on the diagram online, so I was kind of scared that they were going to be shit. But when we got up to about where they were, asked an associate to point out where we were, and actually go to our seats, I was blown away. Our seats couldn’t have been any better; we were seated in a little section called the “Loge,” which was right on the edge of the upper deck. Only one row of seats in front of us, and there were none behind us. Amazing.
