title

Today, I realized just how old I really am, and it terrified me. I have never felt like an adult, I mean an actual adult. I’ve felt adult-ish, but I’ve never felt committed to the idea of being an adult. But today, when I looked in the mirror, I realized that that’s what I was, that it’s what I am. I look at the freshmen walking in our halls, and they all look so young. I remember being a freshman, and looking at the seniors and thinking, “They look so old.” That’s how I must look to them...old, like an adult.

I suppose everyone has this moment, when they realize they have passed from the land of the child to that of the adult, but does it usually come this early? I’m only 18. I had always thought that if you continued doing the things that have always made you happy, you could always retain a bit of child in you. But as I look through my room, and through myself, I find that all the things I enjoy doing, all the movies I like, all the books I read, all the things I say and think, and believe, they’re all so adult, and I don’t know when the fuck this happened, or how I could ever let it happen, but I feel as though I’ve lost those very things I thought I never could. And I have no idea what to do now.

Even this blog, this very post, in fact, ages me. But these are the things I’ve made my home in the past years. It’s not a real a home though. It’s one built on the idea that the more you read, the more you learn, the more you feel, the more interesting you’ll become. Fuck that. In all reality, the only thing that happens is you become enlightened enough to realize that interesting and creative don’t mean shit. Enlightenment condemns you.

I don’t want beliefs. I don’t want literature. I don’t want knowledge. I don’t want to be an adult.

peace.

happy monday

I hope this short note finds you all in good spirits on this wonderful, early Monday night. I felt very close to a moment of ultimate calm, and I thought a short post might complete this near serenity experience.

Some things for you to ponder, if interested:

First, are you one who takes their time to go to work? Or are you one who rushes to go nowhere?

And second, somewhat connected perhaps. How many ticks are in your seconds? How much joy in your minutes.

Not having a job is peace. Now I just need to find my calling. Make the most of the day that's been given.

peace.

i'll trade you

So, I recently quit Culver’s. After three and a half years working in that blue hell, I finally managed to make it out, and thank gosh I’m alive. Why, you ask? Was the pay too low? Well, yeah. Were the working conditions sucky? Oh god yes. Were my managers bitchy. Fuck yeah! But that’s not the main reason. It was mostly because I was told to take my nose ring out, and homie wasn’t having that. So I quit. Do I have a new job? Nope. Am I going to get a new job? Maybe. Should I have found a new job before I quit? That would have been the smart thing, but it’s fun to be irrational sometimes too.

But while I was laying in bed, enjoying all the comforts of unemployment, I began thinking about how I’m going to buy things from now on. I’d rather not break into my savings and my mother is eventually going to get tired of me asking her for money, so what am I going to do? And as I looked about my room, clothes I probably didn’t need strewn about the floor, my mac I probably could have done without on my desk, and my movie posters I most likely paid too much for hanging on my wall, I realized what these possessions meant. I have no real connection to these things, no real use for them. People have long since survived with three pairs of jeans, no computer, and no decorative posters with Johnny Depp and Penelope Cruz lounging on the floor, so why do I feel the need to have these. Perhaps the only thing that would be difficult to part with would be my books. And yet I have these things, things I don’t really need, and you know what that translates into? Time, and then eventually life. My life is in this computer, in these clothes, in these posters. I have sacrificed my time, and ultimately moments of my life to purchase these things. I have traded forgone memories, experiences, pieces of my life, for these possessions, clothes that will wear out, computers that will break, and posters that will rip. And when I think about this, I wonder, was it worth it?

peace

make your move

So while I’m not taking Robinson’s crazy side on the issue of Haiti, this whole thing bothers me. It’s the one thing I really hate about America, and news in general. The only time shit like this makes headlines, the only time people know about how sucky our world is, is when something big happens. Haiti’s government and society has been in turmoil for years; actually, ever since the French first colonized the Haitian “savages”. But who cared to notice? Not half the people caring now.

I know Haiti's situation is fucked right now, and I applaud all those people who are willing to help and are putting in the effort to clean this up. But I also beg those same people, all people actually, to give a damn before something like this happens. Right now, Haiti has been getting the attention, all the sympathy. But there are other countries out there, people who need help are waiting. Why can’t we make a move now, work on prevention so we don’t have to worry about cleaning the mess up. Look beyond yourselves. It’s hard to do that sometimes, especially with all the things we’ve been given. Damn we’re lucky. But I implore you, make your move now, don’t wait for something big to act, something big to go wrong, because I assure you, it’s the little things that make the difference.

peace

to my anonymous critic

So my last post was supposed to be about firsts and how dull life is without them. I used the rule of three triad of sex, drugs, and alcohol since rock n’ roll isn’t really a big part of my generation. I had used these three merely as examples, to convey a much more meaningful message. When I checked back on my blog today I saw this:

“quit being a beatnik and quit trying to prove that you have taken the "smart" approach to using drugs even if it is your second time doing something it is your first time doing that thing the second time. you should try having original thoughts rather than the same thoughts about original experiences”

So first of all, calling me a beatnik is no insult at all. It’s like the hippie of the 50’s.

But what really bothered me was that my anonymous critic totally missed the purpose of my post. Instead of reading deeper into the what may have seemed like superficial examples, they chose to pick out the one they found offensive as they read it simply at face value. My post was not about drinking, smoking, and sexing, it was about living, with or without those things.

And not once did I even say I smoked. I have no problems admitting I do because I doubt Ayers still reads this crap and no one else who does can really do anything about it unless they want to spread it around school, which doesn’t worry me. And on the off chance Ayers does occasionally stop by this site and does notify my mother, meh. But I still feel like they shouldn't have assumed I did, just by my example. And why is that one is so much worse than the other two? If I had just left it at pre-marital sex or underage drinking, would they still have been as offended.

And that being said, when did I ever claim to be taking the ‘smart’ approach to drugs. That’s like taking the ‘smart’ approach to drinking. It doesn’t exist, you’re still out of your right mind while doing it. I know I’m not being smart when I get high. I mean I’m as smart as I can be, but of course there’s danger. But I don’t go to school high, go to work high, not hang out with my friends to get high, spend all my money on getting high, etc. It’s just not a big deal to me, whether I do it or not. People who think that this one thing defines a person are nuts. I still work hard, I still read, I still care about things, I’m still me.

And to the last part, about having original thoughts, I can’t really argue that. My writing and thoughts probably aren’t original, but to me, they mean something. They help me figure things out, they help me develop my views on life and my perspective on living. I’m 18. Very little of what I say is probably original. I’m just trying to figure stuff out. Like I said, to you, it may not be original, but to me, these realizations are some of the coolest shit.

So I guess thanks anonymous critic. I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for on my blog. But like I said, my writing is primarily for me.

peace

firsts

You know why people like New Years? It’s the same reason people hate it. It signifies a new beginning, and humanity loves new things. If you’re a happy person, a new year is a joyous occasion. If you’re depressed, the new year is an ominous horror that reminds you you’ll have to go a whole other year, being depressed.

But people like more than just new years. They like anything that’s new, that they’ve never done before. Why do you think being young is so much fun. It’s not that we can do things adults can, in all actuality, they are legally allowed to do more than any of us. But the same stuff doesn’t appeal to them because they’ve already done it a million times before: sex, drugs, alcohol. It’s lost its novelty, and therefore its appeal. You always remember your first time, in anything, and so you compare every other experience to that. The rest of your experiences are based entirely on the first. The first time is a defining moment in your life, and shapes your perspective thereafter. But there are only so many firsts one can experience. Pretty soon we’ve all had sex, we’ve all gotten high, and we’ve all gotten drunk. And after we’ve reached a point, it all just becomes habitual, expected, common, and consequently, boring.

My theory is that people aren’t afraid to get old and grow up. I mean I thought I was, but I don’t think that’s it. Sure, I’m afraid of dying, but I’m trying this whole not worrying thing, so it isn’t on my mind as of this moment. But becoming old doesn't really scare me as much, not anymore. What does scare me is becoming bored, of running out of firsts. People are leery when it comes to trying new things, as we are taught to be. But there are so many new things to try, and I’m talking more than positions, narcotics, and wines. My hypothesis is that as long as you keep trying new things, you’ll keep living life, and eventually, that worry of growing old will just die away. Maybe.

peace.

it's good to be here

Welcome to 2010. It’s my graduating year. That seems weird to think about, that this is the year.

I have two resolutions for you, 2010.

1.) Keep with my writing, which includes bloggin’

2.) Stop worrying so damn much. Although my blog is cleverly named Don’t Worry that is simply because that is what I have to tell myself every second of the day. This year, I'm gonna do it.

And for those who care, tonight I celebrated my second year of being a vegetarian. People told me I wouldn’t last two months; some didn’t even give me two weeks. To those people I say,

fuck you.

peace