I run further still
My Ego stays close behind
I run further still
Fuck yeah!!
If I think about it, each book I read in high school taught me something, whether that lesson had any relevance to the book or not. Here are some of those things. I apologize if my writing is terrible:
Enders Game: Your hero story can start whenever, and it is brought to life by trained machines who see your potential and push you in the right direction. They have been trained to develop you, and many many others just like you. Try to listen.
Lord Jim: There are certain things in this world that you won’t learn because you don’t want to.
“To Kill a Mockingbird”- “What It’s Like to be Black in the Eyes of a Little White Girl”
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance- If you like doing something, learn about it.
The Catcher in the Rye- People are bitches; being a bitch too doesn’t help.
The Illiad: Sometimes to make something happen, you have to want it. Fiercely.
Shakespeare: Dont let the words stop the story from happening.
Maybe more later…
So I’m giving all my friends gifts I make instead of buying anything since I’m saving all my money. One of those things is a rap which will be posted here. This is your warning.
Maybe these cathartic fits aren’t as out of blue as I pretend. Rather, my body compensates for what I don’t let myself think about. Could it be that after all this time my body aches still for you, like a kind of love cancer that I cant beat. Willpower is my chemo, yet I go into remission. I don’t want to miss you, at all, anymore.
I feel stupid embarrassed compelled contrived for writing this kind of thing.
Wild Dad has appeared.
Dad used Screech
KAJD’s defense fell.
KAJD used Rage.
Dad used Diffusion of Responsibility
KAJD’s Rage is building
KAJD used Protect
Dad used Poison Sting
KAJD protected himself
KAJD used Recover
Dad used Poison Sting.
It’s super effective!
KAJD is poisoned!
KAJD’s Rage is building
KAJD used Endure
KAJD is hurt from poison!
Dad used Minimize.
KAJD used Protect,
But it Failed!
Dad Has fled from battle!
KAJD is hurt from Poison.
KAJD’s Rage is building.
As far as cultural heritage goes, I’ve never considered myself much beyond “white”. If I had to be honest with myself I would say I linger in the white-washed white color spectrum, right next to the white mutts. Or it depended on my mood, like on a bad day I might say it’s just my Italian coming out. It could be my German depending on how bad. Otherwise I stick with white.
Now of course given the many Theatre, English, and various other liberal art classes I have taken have redefined the word culture repeatedly. I would say excessively. So in my sociology class, I’m taking yet another clue from the cluster of culture. I’ll be more focused on the family roles across two generations; me as a 21-year-old, and my mom as a 21-year-old.
My mother was born to two parents, who later split, and re-married other people who also had kids. That so far isn’t terribly different from the way things are with some people that I know. Anyways, so my Grandfather at the time was sixty-one, and his second wife was between fifty-five and forty depending on how well you knew her. My mother was still twenty-one at home. Most of her many siblings had moved out. Being the 7th kid out of 8 meant she was pretty young comparatively. Her younger sister Lisa was also in the house, and she was around 19-years-old.
My Mom and Dad are still together at 50 and 54 respectively, and have been together since my mom was 22. They had four kids: my sister, me, and my two younger brothers. It’s just me and my youngest brother now since my sister moved out, and the other brother flew out to join the air force. Stephen, the youngest, is eighteen. He thinks he’s twenty-five, and acts like he’s twelve. But allow me to assure you, he is only eighteen.
Both my parents and I grew up in a heavily, religiously guided protestant home life. I would say Jesus was like water growing up; it was always in the house, but you usually wanted something else to drink. Family devotionals came and died out like colds. In fact I think the house was plagued with more colds. My parents, mainly my Mom, grew up with cold devotionals and a family that died out. So it’s basically the same thing.
After religion, the most important thing in a family I guess is money. My mom had lots of it, my dad had none, and I grew up with some. My Grandfather set the bar in business success for our family at some multi-million dollar value. I don’t think I’ll ever really know where it is. My Mom had everything she needed, nothing she wanted, but at least it was enforced to be nice. I am just another middle-class white family, but I’ve never been sad. My Dad never had anything, which he occasionally likes to point out whenever he can. Maybe it’s sort of like a fairytale like the poor orphan boy who married the daughter of a rich white man. Maybe it’s more like a Disney movie, like the first draft of “Aladdin”. I’ve yet to have Disney confirm this for me, but there is a dialogue going. Anyways, my Mom is a nurse who takes care of all of us while my Dad goes back to school. He [we] used to pastor a church, but then everyone in the world started getting diagnosed with mental disorders.
For the record, a disorder can wreck a house quicker than a cold. You could say that was the time where we all went crazy for money.
As far as “sex roles” went in both of my parents’ houses you just did exactly what you were told, and you better be good at it. Skip a generation, and you’d see roles divided not by sex, but by sanity. The more sane you were, the more work you got. Sanity is sexless after all. To be fair, my youngest brother did the least and he wasn’t the craziest. He did however suffer from chronic laziness, so I’ve labeled him as underdeveloped.
Growing up with one sister, and two brothers you can imagine some sex role blending to a degree. My sister was just a big a slob as three boys. My sister was also a very loud personality so she imprinted on us some too. For example, the death penalty was justified if you were accused of being gay. The Jury went out on my younger brother a while ago, and no he’s hiding under the air force. He’ll be flying out of the country to Afghanistan so we may never know the ruling.
Discipline is a dark area. Not all of it is bad, if you have the humor for it; Laughing at pain is acquired. My parents must have had a lot more of fearing God life style than I did based off of stories I’ve heard, especially when punishments were god-like. For the most part, my parents learned to behave. I think it’s because everything quite literally was worse back then. I know I have it way easier. After spending years in a reserved state, it was only natural that I lived where everything was out in the open. Discipline was routine, because we always found new ways to be in trouble. We did what we wanted, said what we thought, and we did with the poise and refinement you’d find at a Giants v. Dodgers game. It’s kinda funny, I think, how that parallels. It was always a home game, but you just can’t win. I never knew the Dodgers and I had so much in common.
This all may seem a bit of a stretch, and for many intents and purposes it is. However, when you grow up, you hear most of these things as stories. The only thing I really needed to confirm was ages. I guess I should count myself lucky being so aware of my culture, from a sociological stand point, since I wouldn’t consider myself cultured. In the end, I must note that from a sociological standpoint, my culture is uniquely mine.
If I could clone myself asexually, is that homosexual, incestual, or abstinent?
I wonder who the was the first guy who had sex with a downs person. I would like to see what his thought process was. I think his first thoughts would be along the lines of:
What if they try to talk during?
Do I need to get a balloon as a reward?
It’s not gay if they don’t understand what gay is
Does this count as molestation or beastiality?
I think it’d be much more interesting to hear what the downs person was thinking:
“…”
Do I eat it?
Ima get a baloooooooon
It’s bigger than daddy’s…
Ajajdieuqixncnri8:&4!£Jamel
I’m angry this morning. I want to rant and whine about how my dad is such an ASSHOLE. But that’s good enough. Maybe if I just let myself have something representing a vent I will feel better. Maybe Ill even get sympathy from somebody else. But is that what I really wanted in the first place.
In ten minutes Ill forget I was mad anyways.
Little Marlene Gray was a little orphan girl. Marlenes’ parents had gone away and she was left all alone. But every night, she would look out her little window and ask the Moon and Stars to bring her parents back.
Marlene never had many friends aside from the Moon and the Stars. The other kids her age would tease her, pick on her, and even throw dirt. It was fortunate that Marlene loved dirt, or else those kids might not be here today.
It was a Sunday afternoon, and Marlene was playing by herself with some bugs in the park. Creepy crawly, slick and slimy, and icky sticky bugs always love to play with little girls In the park. Marlene would imagine each slime, ick, and creep as a person. She would pretend they were villagers and she was chief. As she was delegating new jobs to her villagers, she heard a boy crying.
Aaron Blue was a short, chubby boy who had a knack for losing his parents. The crying, however was new.
“What’re you doing?” asked Marlene. “I’m looking for my parents,” sniffed Aaron “and I’m not doing a good job.” Aaron was never doing a good job.
I need to remember soul bookshelf.
I think I’m really funny. I don’t think that because of any talent I have with humor. I’m sure to most people think I’m blunt, or crude, or racist, or sarcastic, or whatever-I-don’t-give-a-shit.
I believe I’m funny because I make myself laugh. I believe it’s important. People may be on board with my humor, on-and-off, or not into it at all. Others may not get it, sometimes I don’t get it. But regardless, I believe the true success lies in honesty. There is a whole trend in comedy dealing with “truth” which as a category, not a concept, is wholly separate from honesty, in my opinion.
For example, I often do things that are really dumb like losing my phone while it’s in my hand. I’m not the only one that does that. The “truths” are that:
1) It is a really dumb thing to do/that happens (hopefully not too often)
2) I’m not the only one that does it so I can relate to other people when it happens.
Neither of these truths are what make me laugh. The honesty, which may or may not synchronize with the truth, lies:
1) In that feeling of actually losing my phone
2) The reaction to the realization of finding my phone
3) the realization of how often 1 and 2 happen.
The key is to being honest with yourself. I suppose that I favor misdirection as my method of telling a joke. The misdirections that I make not only take my “audience” in a different direction than they may have expected, which is the truth of the joke, but I find the humor in the honesty of the joke. I already know that being dumb is funny to me. So when I make jokes that make me appear stupid, I play up the honesty. You have to believe that you’re dumb for the delivery to take affect.
“It’s funny because it’s true” does not only apply to the real life parallels of the situation or joke, but to honesty as well. The trouble with playing dumb is that:
1) some people might think I’m actually dumb
2) I may not be good a playing dumb
3) I may actually be dumb.
I honestly don’t know.
Taking a study break.
Indie Music via Songza (yay), Nat Shermans, and some candy.
It’s the first day in a while that there has been nice weather. I’ve been trying to train myself to get more time outside because I am regrettably white. Not like I don’t want to be white (race), but the pigment. I guess it doesn’t matter though.
A lot of good has been happening lately. Mom got a promotion, my family moved into a new house, I’ve been having tons of fun with my friends, school is manageable and i’m interested in what I’m learning, I got accepted into the Disney College Program, my physical therapy is going great, and my girlfriend loves me.
im waiting for the plunge. I’ll try to not let it get to me. I’ll try journaling.
A couple of my friends got into some drama and it has made me aware of my role in the crew that i roll with. I’m a different kind of glue by being neutral, mainly in disposition as opposed to active choice. I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m finding a new line; I’m happy being nuetral and indifferent. Indifference is the fear here. I like to think that everyone questions whether they are feeling.
Here’s to the moment. Cheers
-TOG
