I've noticed a paradox in the way I operate these days. I complain to my friends about how I need to sleep more, how I'm constantly tired, and anything else of the sort. Yet here I sit, twenty minutes to two, writing my marginally interesting thoughts.
I'm clearly not the only one awake, as the gentle rhythm of Sublime's Doin' Time playing in my room is mixing with the members of my dorm screaming and running down the halls. Now, I'm not particularly opposed to this sort of merriment, as on occasion I make it a practice to scream and run down halls. The only difference between them and I is that I limit my escapades to before 11pm. I've been blessed with the incredible fortune to be able to fall asleep and stay asleep with immense amounts of noise playing around me, but this certainly has to be rare. I'm astounded that not one of the other members of the dorm accosts these people for being inordinately loud. Before this becomes a rant, I'm going to end this. I did not start this blog to complain about my life, merely to reflect.
It's funny that I would say that now, because right now I don't have a great deal to reflect on. Yes, college is rushing by as everyone said it would. Yes, so far they're the best years of my life. My life hasn't been particularly noteworthy, so topping it is no extraordinary achievement. What is fodder for wonder is how quickly this so-called best experience of my life becomes mundane. I greatly enjoy living on my own, free from curfews and hourly calls from my mother asking where I am, (though she still tries to ask) but it is astounding how quickly this experience becomes routine. Is every new life experience destined to become monotonous for me? That's rather chilling to try and assess, as this is a hallmark of depression. However, in noticing that I exemplify an aspect of pre-depression, do I effectively annihilate any chance of having it, at least currently?
Enough with the rhetorical questions. I have enough of those to deal with in my rhetoric class. How about a well-rounded answer?
The mundane arises from the halting of variation in daily life. Clearly, I have not attempted to vary my college experience enough, if I am assuming it to be monotonous. In analyzing this, I have discovered a trait about myself. To a certain degree I welcome regularity. I am complacent with some degree of a schedule. Perhaps to combat my issue I should let some aspects of my experience remain as they are, while continuing to experiment with different ideas.
It is here that I will elude to a sexual relationship, perhaps that is what is best to explain it. (On a completely related but unintended note, Caress Me Down just started playing, so this must be the correct analogy). Everyone is awkward the first time, as it is an experience for which there can be no preparation. With time, you begin to develop a rhythm (pun entirely intended) and begin to draw on sexual aspects that are familiar. It is here that the pivotal division point occurs between monotony and continued interest. Should one continue with the tested methods, a sexual relationship can become boring and predictable, which no self-respecting sexually active person wishes to occur. Tried methods can be incorporated, but experimentation will effectively spice up any sexual exploit, even if it doesn't work. Knowing what doesn't work is essential to deciphering what does work.
Moral of the story, keep some familiar methods, but don't abstain from straying away from the norm. Especially in bed. Or on the floor, on a table, against the wall, whichever you please.
I greatly enjoy confronting my own doubts with self-generated circuitous rhetoric.
That's all I've got for tonight, I hope the three readers I likely have at this point enjoyed my writing, thanks for staying with me. I'm exhausted, goodnight all!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Decisions, decisions.
What is the purpose of sharing this blog with the world? Perhaps the world is a bit on the ambitious side, I highly doubt more than ten people have even so much as scanned one or two entries on this. This brings me back to my initial question: for what purpose do I labor over my own keyboard, typing whatever thoughts I have, whether they simmered in my mind or simply arise the very moment I am typing? Is the reason because I wish for the world to know some of my thoughts, perhaps even my thought processes, so people may gain a higher profundity of understanding of what makes me, well, me?
(Insert vehement claim of non-understanding, dripping with the cold black liquid of teenage angst here.)
No, after roughly thirty seconds of thought it becomes at least somewhat clear why I even attempt to communicate my thoughts with the world. It is simply because I have something to say. It very well may not be of the utmost importance, but then again, how can anyone know whether any particular action one makes is insignificant? Certainly if one is a romanticist, as I have tenuously deemed myself to be, any action as simple as choosing whether to open or close a door, or whether to eat the lobster bisque or the vegan fennel soup, can impact your life, as well as the lives of the people around you. (I believe that I have mentioned this before, regarding whether or not I wished to wear my Latin shirt. I regretfully admit that I have lost my Latin shirt. Felipe, there is no need to worry about wearing it, for mine does not exist. Perhaps you stole it?)
What has been plaguing my mind these past few weeks, comes to the topic of decisions. I've made a few rather large ones in the past few months, deciding upon pursuing an English major, deciding to grow my hair out, deciding to enter into another relationship. After a pre-sleep analysis of these decisions, I came to a somewhat powerful ultimatum. Every single aspect of life is based on a decision one makes. Just sit for a moment and think of everything that has ever occurred to you in life. Are not the consequences, where you stand currently, a direct result of deciding to do one thing over another? I sit here in my college dorm room, content, for a variety of reasons. I was successful in becoming enrolled in college and taking the necessary steps for financial aid to pay it all off, thus I sit in my dorm room, on Busch campus, which I decided to live on. I am content for an even larger multitude of reasons, the fact that I turned the heat up, decided to wear my favorite flannel shirt, did all my homework yesterday, and spent most of the day with my girlfriend. I could just as easily be sitting distraught at home if I had decided upon a drastically alternate course of action in my life. It's rather scary when you think of just how many aspects of your life can go awry based on a single decision.
That's about all the rambling I've got for tonight. I'm off to enjoy one of the two redeeming factors of Tillett dining hall, (widely considered to be the worst dining hall on campus), calzone night at takeout. To anyone who cared or was bored enough to read, your literacy is always appreciated!
(Insert vehement claim of non-understanding, dripping with the cold black liquid of teenage angst here.)
No, after roughly thirty seconds of thought it becomes at least somewhat clear why I even attempt to communicate my thoughts with the world. It is simply because I have something to say. It very well may not be of the utmost importance, but then again, how can anyone know whether any particular action one makes is insignificant? Certainly if one is a romanticist, as I have tenuously deemed myself to be, any action as simple as choosing whether to open or close a door, or whether to eat the lobster bisque or the vegan fennel soup, can impact your life, as well as the lives of the people around you. (I believe that I have mentioned this before, regarding whether or not I wished to wear my Latin shirt. I regretfully admit that I have lost my Latin shirt. Felipe, there is no need to worry about wearing it, for mine does not exist. Perhaps you stole it?)
What has been plaguing my mind these past few weeks, comes to the topic of decisions. I've made a few rather large ones in the past few months, deciding upon pursuing an English major, deciding to grow my hair out, deciding to enter into another relationship. After a pre-sleep analysis of these decisions, I came to a somewhat powerful ultimatum. Every single aspect of life is based on a decision one makes. Just sit for a moment and think of everything that has ever occurred to you in life. Are not the consequences, where you stand currently, a direct result of deciding to do one thing over another? I sit here in my college dorm room, content, for a variety of reasons. I was successful in becoming enrolled in college and taking the necessary steps for financial aid to pay it all off, thus I sit in my dorm room, on Busch campus, which I decided to live on. I am content for an even larger multitude of reasons, the fact that I turned the heat up, decided to wear my favorite flannel shirt, did all my homework yesterday, and spent most of the day with my girlfriend. I could just as easily be sitting distraught at home if I had decided upon a drastically alternate course of action in my life. It's rather scary when you think of just how many aspects of your life can go awry based on a single decision.
That's about all the rambling I've got for tonight. I'm off to enjoy one of the two redeeming factors of Tillett dining hall, (widely considered to be the worst dining hall on campus), calzone night at takeout. To anyone who cared or was bored enough to read, your literacy is always appreciated!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Shameless Early Morning Posting - Happy New Year!
Why is it that inspiration only strikes me in the wee hours of the morning?
Is that really when the current of the creative river that is my thoughts flows most swiftly?
Hell if I know.
For all intensive purposes, posting at 2 am could be a direct result of my boredom, mixed with the fact that "normal" people have gone to sleep already, rendering any attempts at contact futile, topped with the delicious sprinkling of "I am nowhere near tired enough to try and sleep." Whatever the case, here I am once again annoying the masses with my miscellaneous collections of thoughts, that I deem significant, (ah, the irony! See blog title...) enough for the public to be made aware of.
2011 is finally upon us. It never quite strikes me that an entire year has passed by until January 2nd of the next year. Often during these particular periods, I take the time to reflect upon the past year, all its trials and tribulations, successes and failures, positive and negative choices and the consequences of these choices, etc. However, to do this in one night would require immense amounts of recollection and typing that quite frankly, I am far too lazy to undertake. The only words I have to say about 2010 and everything that occurred during the year are these: they're all over.
While the concept of a year is humanity's attempt to categorize passages of time, logically separated by revolutions of the Earth around the Sun, for symbolic purposes I like to catalog all of the events before January of the next year as "last year's events" and only use them for learning purposes that may benefit me in the year to come. 2011 then has the ability to become a clean slate, something that is inevitably desired by many, even if they are not aware of it. How many people do you witness wishing that they could simply "start over" and forgo all of their past experiences to pave the way for a second chance? I am particularly fond of this concept because similar to any and all human beings, I have made several mistakes over the past year. Though some of them have set me back a great deal, as a human being I have grown dramatically both psychologically and emotionally. I will take this time to be sappy, something that has never been seen in this blog, and state that I never imagined I could enter successfully into another relationship, had I been at the point I was during the summer. Fate has once again thrown me for a loop, and presented me with an opportunity I came very close to ignoring, giving me the gift of a significant other. With this establishment something has occurred that has been hitherto unheard of in my mind, actual hope for the future. Who would have thought that 2011 would bring with it the ray of sunshine I have both spurned and yearned for? Oddly enough, I have no profound new year's resolutions to speak of at the moment, apart from further developing my writing, singing, and guitar playing skills, as well as actually following through with the concept of getting in shape.
The idea of sleep is at this point beginning to pervade my thoughts, and the thought of being cocooned in my comforter is proving to be an endeavor I wish more and more to take with each passing minute. In other words, I am actually succumbing to tiredness. Goodnight to my infinitesimal amounts of readers, and a Happy New Year to all!
"His heart is a suspended lute, when one touches it, it resounds." -Edgar Allan Poe
Is that really when the current of the creative river that is my thoughts flows most swiftly?
Hell if I know.
For all intensive purposes, posting at 2 am could be a direct result of my boredom, mixed with the fact that "normal" people have gone to sleep already, rendering any attempts at contact futile, topped with the delicious sprinkling of "I am nowhere near tired enough to try and sleep." Whatever the case, here I am once again annoying the masses with my miscellaneous collections of thoughts, that I deem significant, (ah, the irony! See blog title...) enough for the public to be made aware of.
2011 is finally upon us. It never quite strikes me that an entire year has passed by until January 2nd of the next year. Often during these particular periods, I take the time to reflect upon the past year, all its trials and tribulations, successes and failures, positive and negative choices and the consequences of these choices, etc. However, to do this in one night would require immense amounts of recollection and typing that quite frankly, I am far too lazy to undertake. The only words I have to say about 2010 and everything that occurred during the year are these: they're all over.
While the concept of a year is humanity's attempt to categorize passages of time, logically separated by revolutions of the Earth around the Sun, for symbolic purposes I like to catalog all of the events before January of the next year as "last year's events" and only use them for learning purposes that may benefit me in the year to come. 2011 then has the ability to become a clean slate, something that is inevitably desired by many, even if they are not aware of it. How many people do you witness wishing that they could simply "start over" and forgo all of their past experiences to pave the way for a second chance? I am particularly fond of this concept because similar to any and all human beings, I have made several mistakes over the past year. Though some of them have set me back a great deal, as a human being I have grown dramatically both psychologically and emotionally. I will take this time to be sappy, something that has never been seen in this blog, and state that I never imagined I could enter successfully into another relationship, had I been at the point I was during the summer. Fate has once again thrown me for a loop, and presented me with an opportunity I came very close to ignoring, giving me the gift of a significant other. With this establishment something has occurred that has been hitherto unheard of in my mind, actual hope for the future. Who would have thought that 2011 would bring with it the ray of sunshine I have both spurned and yearned for? Oddly enough, I have no profound new year's resolutions to speak of at the moment, apart from further developing my writing, singing, and guitar playing skills, as well as actually following through with the concept of getting in shape.
The idea of sleep is at this point beginning to pervade my thoughts, and the thought of being cocooned in my comforter is proving to be an endeavor I wish more and more to take with each passing minute. In other words, I am actually succumbing to tiredness. Goodnight to my infinitesimal amounts of readers, and a Happy New Year to all!
"His heart is a suspended lute, when one touches it, it resounds." -Edgar Allan Poe
Monday, December 6, 2010
First Snow!
So, I lied.
The posts have not been coming as frequently as I promised or prophecized they would have. What do you want from me, I'm spending most of my time these days with various college studies and debauchery, (I will not say which of more I'm doing, lest it tarnish my reputation), and frankly, I've barely had time to reflect and write about my thoughts for a while. Here and there I'll compose a song or write a poem, but as far as cut and dried psychological analysis is concerned, I'm strongly lacking, at least presently I am.
There is hope, though, because today I have been incredibly productive! I attended all of my classes and tried significantly to retain all the information presented in each, I mailed in three scholarships, found ten dollars, with which I bought the chinese food I am now eating, saw Krysten (yes, I am once again someone's boyfriend. Don't you love when the complete opposite of your original intentions occurs? Needless to say I couldn't be happier with my decision), and most importantly, purchased a new notebook! I had been complaining that I had only been able to scribble my thoughts on loose leaf paper, which proves to be very annoying from a collective standpoint.
I've also noticed a fundamental issue with my whole blog, as I have entitled my writings as "Insignificant Adolescent Ramblings". Am I, a 19 year old college student, still considered to be an adolescent? At what point does adolescence transition into adulthood? I took a detour to dictionary.com and discovered that two definitions exist,
1) growing to manhood or womanhood; youthful
2) immature, young
Physically, I am still an adolescent. Sources say a man's ultimate end in growth ends at age 21. Psychologically, however, I am under the impression that I will always remain an adolescent. To me, the term can be coined as one who is always learning, and a personal tenet of mine is that one should never halt the flow of learning. So perhaps my blog's name is not an issue at all. Perhaps this simply means that as time goes on, the title becomes more and more ironic, considering that anyone who has reached adulthood is not expected to continue adolescent psychological growth. I consider myself an antithesis to this, as I believe that the human mind is capable of growth at any time in one's life.
Anyway, in Calculus today, we covered a topic that I had never gone over in high school, and after twenty minutes of complete non-understanding, I began to write in my new notebook. What resulted is something I am unsure of; whether what I wrote is a poem or a rant. "Poetry" is a very broad term for the artful use of language, but I question when certain types of poetry become rambling. I'll let you be the judge:
So I'm sitting in Calculus trying to solve a problem,
And I have no clue how to try to solve the problem.
There are more letters than numbers on the page,
More Greek letters than English ones, to boot.
Never mind, all it took was some coaxing,
But do I truly understand,
Or do I simply parrot what the instructor instructs,
as I instruct my tenuous methods to my classmates?
I won't truly know until the final exam.
Clearly, mathematics is not my strong point,
At least not such abstract mathematics as Calculus.
Every day, I long exponentially for the days of algebra.
And after I have stared blankly at the page for twenty minutes,
Pondering my academic fate,
I realize that class is over, and just how productive I've been.
Simultaneously, I realize that this may be my last math class,
Only penultimate if statistics is in my future.
[End...poem? Is it really a poem?]
I'm not sure what it is, but I wrote it. Whoever still follows this, thank you very much for reading, it's always appreciated. In case you're all wondering why I entitled this post "first snow", it snowed here for the first time this year. Oh, how I love the snow...
The posts have not been coming as frequently as I promised or prophecized they would have. What do you want from me, I'm spending most of my time these days with various college studies and debauchery, (I will not say which of more I'm doing, lest it tarnish my reputation), and frankly, I've barely had time to reflect and write about my thoughts for a while. Here and there I'll compose a song or write a poem, but as far as cut and dried psychological analysis is concerned, I'm strongly lacking, at least presently I am.
There is hope, though, because today I have been incredibly productive! I attended all of my classes and tried significantly to retain all the information presented in each, I mailed in three scholarships, found ten dollars, with which I bought the chinese food I am now eating, saw Krysten (yes, I am once again someone's boyfriend. Don't you love when the complete opposite of your original intentions occurs? Needless to say I couldn't be happier with my decision), and most importantly, purchased a new notebook! I had been complaining that I had only been able to scribble my thoughts on loose leaf paper, which proves to be very annoying from a collective standpoint.
I've also noticed a fundamental issue with my whole blog, as I have entitled my writings as "Insignificant Adolescent Ramblings". Am I, a 19 year old college student, still considered to be an adolescent? At what point does adolescence transition into adulthood? I took a detour to dictionary.com and discovered that two definitions exist,
1) growing to manhood or womanhood; youthful
2) immature, young
Physically, I am still an adolescent. Sources say a man's ultimate end in growth ends at age 21. Psychologically, however, I am under the impression that I will always remain an adolescent. To me, the term can be coined as one who is always learning, and a personal tenet of mine is that one should never halt the flow of learning. So perhaps my blog's name is not an issue at all. Perhaps this simply means that as time goes on, the title becomes more and more ironic, considering that anyone who has reached adulthood is not expected to continue adolescent psychological growth. I consider myself an antithesis to this, as I believe that the human mind is capable of growth at any time in one's life.
Anyway, in Calculus today, we covered a topic that I had never gone over in high school, and after twenty minutes of complete non-understanding, I began to write in my new notebook. What resulted is something I am unsure of; whether what I wrote is a poem or a rant. "Poetry" is a very broad term for the artful use of language, but I question when certain types of poetry become rambling. I'll let you be the judge:
So I'm sitting in Calculus trying to solve a problem,
And I have no clue how to try to solve the problem.
There are more letters than numbers on the page,
More Greek letters than English ones, to boot.
Never mind, all it took was some coaxing,
But do I truly understand,
Or do I simply parrot what the instructor instructs,
as I instruct my tenuous methods to my classmates?
I won't truly know until the final exam.
Clearly, mathematics is not my strong point,
At least not such abstract mathematics as Calculus.
Every day, I long exponentially for the days of algebra.
And after I have stared blankly at the page for twenty minutes,
Pondering my academic fate,
I realize that class is over, and just how productive I've been.
Simultaneously, I realize that this may be my last math class,
Only penultimate if statistics is in my future.
[End...poem? Is it really a poem?]
I'm not sure what it is, but I wrote it. Whoever still follows this, thank you very much for reading, it's always appreciated. In case you're all wondering why I entitled this post "first snow", it snowed here for the first time this year. Oh, how I love the snow...
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Bandwiches, Pizza, and Nostalgia
Greetings, everyone. Tonight, me sitting here typing marks the end of a day comprised of essentially 14 hours of marching band activity in one day, with only the sustenance of bandwiches (lovingly named for their extreme succulence), and pizza. That's roughly two thirds of the day entirely devoted to marching band. It's a very volatile relationship, seeing as I love for these types of things, I find great appreciation of marching, and even more significantly so in playing my trumpet. I can't help myself, whenever the trumpet is in my hand I just have this insatiable urge to play it.
In addition to this, the band attended a USSBA finals here in our very own Rutgers stadium. I was staunchly reminded of how much I miss the high school competitive band circuit, and just how much fun I had at competitions. The excitement of being judged for how hard you've been working, chatting it up with other bands and discussing all the latest delicious band geek gossip, because there is so much of it, and waiting in eager anticipation of your scores. Nerd alert: I love it. I miss it so much, which is why I am so eager to return home to watch the band there; simultaneously, becoming more enraged with the fact that I cannot go home for several weeks.
I'm not writing much tonight because I'm dead tired, that's what I get for staying out late last night and then having two thirds of my day filled with band.
Guess what? There's more band activity tomorrow afternoon, as well. Should be fun. It also may kill me.
Goodnight!
In addition to this, the band attended a USSBA finals here in our very own Rutgers stadium. I was staunchly reminded of how much I miss the high school competitive band circuit, and just how much fun I had at competitions. The excitement of being judged for how hard you've been working, chatting it up with other bands and discussing all the latest delicious band geek gossip, because there is so much of it, and waiting in eager anticipation of your scores. Nerd alert: I love it. I miss it so much, which is why I am so eager to return home to watch the band there; simultaneously, becoming more enraged with the fact that I cannot go home for several weeks.
I'm not writing much tonight because I'm dead tired, that's what I get for staying out late last night and then having two thirds of my day filled with band.
Guess what? There's more band activity tomorrow afternoon, as well. Should be fun. It also may kill me.
Goodnight!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
It's Late, Yet Still I Write
Ah, the remarkable capacity of college life. It keeps you up until the wee hours of the morning doing things that range from perfectly productive activities such as Chemistry homework, that I should probably be doing, on a side note, to checking the updates on the new comic from Cyanide & Happiness, to the crazy antics of the various texters of Texts From Last Night. Granted, I'm used to it at this point, as embarking onto my sleep journey at any point before 2 a.m. just seems downright immoral for a college student such as myself to do. I always used to question exactly why my older friends coming home from college would do nothing but sleep, but a month and a half into the whole experience has elucidated me to the reasoning behind the enormous amounts of lethargy. I very enormously enjoy the convention of sleep, laying in my warm and soft bed in a gentle cotton cocoon that is my comforter, but there just seem to be so many other activities that dissuade me from embracing sleep's comforting arms.
In other words, college life is fucking awesome.
Again, it's been a fairly significant amount of time since the last time I posted, and I really have no definitive reasoning for this lapse in writing other than that I've been very busy, and that the idea of typing out my thoughts has been somewhat quashed following the rigidity of the writing style that I am forced to write in for Expository writing. Seriously, writing with that strict of a set of guidelines is not my cup of tea, I prefer to take liberties in my writing, and to attempt creativity wherever possible. This is why I plan to take a creative writing course come the spring semester. Hopefully now that my body has for the most part adjusted to the onslaught of sleep deprivation and dining hall food, (which, by the way is really good despite my attempt at humor) it will be far less of an arduous task for me to write here.
Oh, and I'm not certain I mentioned this in previous entries, but I've finally reverted back to the sense of self that I wanted to retain. For a long period of time, as many of my close readers may know, if any still exist, I have been trying to return to the state of mind that I had originally been in, because it had drastically been altered, due to specific reasons that I really do not care to name. This is solely for anyone who is still worried about me, I am back. It was scary for very long period of time, but I've finally discovered exactly what I want to be, and that is the way I am currently. I'm silly, I find humor in nearly every situation, I'm vastly immature, and I don't want to do a god damn thing about it, because I enjoy being this way. Oh, and I'm growing my hair out again.
Once again, thank you all very much for reading. If there are still any followers out there, it means a great deal that you've stuck it out waiting for an update.
I leave you all with a quote to end it, as is my custom, goodnight all!
"Nobody is perfect, so to judge others is to invite judgment upon ourselves."
In other words, college life is fucking awesome.
Again, it's been a fairly significant amount of time since the last time I posted, and I really have no definitive reasoning for this lapse in writing other than that I've been very busy, and that the idea of typing out my thoughts has been somewhat quashed following the rigidity of the writing style that I am forced to write in for Expository writing. Seriously, writing with that strict of a set of guidelines is not my cup of tea, I prefer to take liberties in my writing, and to attempt creativity wherever possible. This is why I plan to take a creative writing course come the spring semester. Hopefully now that my body has for the most part adjusted to the onslaught of sleep deprivation and dining hall food, (which, by the way is really good despite my attempt at humor) it will be far less of an arduous task for me to write here.
Oh, and I'm not certain I mentioned this in previous entries, but I've finally reverted back to the sense of self that I wanted to retain. For a long period of time, as many of my close readers may know, if any still exist, I have been trying to return to the state of mind that I had originally been in, because it had drastically been altered, due to specific reasons that I really do not care to name. This is solely for anyone who is still worried about me, I am back. It was scary for very long period of time, but I've finally discovered exactly what I want to be, and that is the way I am currently. I'm silly, I find humor in nearly every situation, I'm vastly immature, and I don't want to do a god damn thing about it, because I enjoy being this way. Oh, and I'm growing my hair out again.
Once again, thank you all very much for reading. If there are still any followers out there, it means a great deal that you've stuck it out waiting for an update.
I leave you all with a quote to end it, as is my custom, goodnight all!
"Nobody is perfect, so to judge others is to invite judgment upon ourselves."
Sunday, August 1, 2010
I know, I promised.
Hello to all of my readers who may or may not exist!
It's been almost two months since my last post, hasn't it. I know, I know, you don't need to tell me, I promised that I would be writing more and more as time progressed, but, well, I haven't. Yes, there were an extraordinary amount of commas in that sentence. The only reasoning behind that is because of the fact that I often type in the same manner I speak, pauses, punctuation, and all. My teachers often penalize me for this, as the way I speak isn't necessarily incorrect in the grammatical sense, it's just a little difficult to follow my general train of thought, especially when you're not me. I can't wait for the first teacher to read a sample of my writing in college, because I'll get all kinds of those nice "AWK" marks that my 8th grade English teacher liked to write, (Mrs. Liguori, bless her, she's the teacher that opened up the world of writing for me, made it much less of a chore than I had made it out to be) and try to make sense of it. As I stated previously, only I can understand the true meaning of my own writing. Though that hardly makes me special, as all authors have the highest understanding of their own writing. That's why we study and slave away at books in school, isn't it? To get the faintest morsel of an idea as to what the author was thinking when he or she wrote his or her novel? That's how I look at it, anyway. What fun is it to read a book purely to analyze the symbolism, possible allegories, motifs, themes, chiasmuses, syncheses, onomatopoeias, alliterations, or whatever else happens to be hidden in the novel? Obviously, if they can be detected by high school students with very basic literature experience, the author did not intend for the sole purpose his or her work to be to convey that literary element. Only through spending as much time reading a work as the author did writing it is the proper way to get into the author's head. Personally, spending years, or even decades focusing on a single work would drive me insane. That's why the people who do it get paid the big bucks. Therein lies the secret to being wealthy, do a whole lot of something that no one else wants to do any of. Do you have any idea of how much a garbage man gets paid? Ask one. I guarantee you'll be extremely surprised.
There's my rant for the evening, and I leave with something a bit more poetic. I've been churning out the lyrics lately, and came up with some that are slightly less embarrassing than as is the usual, so hopefully they're enjoyed.
This is entitled "Smoke Rising, I'm Falling"
The air is thick with laughter, my lungs are thick with smoke
The bedroom's growing smaller, with every word your voice spoke
Decisions not made lightly, seem to crumble down and die
As you sleep the night away, I have to stop and ask why, I'm falling
chorus-
Just because I've fell, doesn't mean that I'll keep falling
I've gotten up before, and you left me calling and calling
Seen it played, this rotten game, don't worry nothing new
And though I've fell, I'm gone, I'm falling, I'll still be the one to catch you
Surprise surprise, the day has died, the sun along the way
My bedroom's empty but for smoke, and yours is full today, oh
How wind picks up and spits it out, I'll never understand
The smoke coming from your room, the fire started with my own hand, I'm falling
*chorus*
Caught up with me (the fire's burning)
I'm falling slowly (the smoke's unfurling)
I'll catch you, you'll see (the dawn's returning)
This is how it should be (for you I'm learning)
*chorus and out*
That's about the long and short of it. Goodnight all, I'm headed for Rutgers orientation tomorrow. As always, thanks for reading!
It's been almost two months since my last post, hasn't it. I know, I know, you don't need to tell me, I promised that I would be writing more and more as time progressed, but, well, I haven't. Yes, there were an extraordinary amount of commas in that sentence. The only reasoning behind that is because of the fact that I often type in the same manner I speak, pauses, punctuation, and all. My teachers often penalize me for this, as the way I speak isn't necessarily incorrect in the grammatical sense, it's just a little difficult to follow my general train of thought, especially when you're not me. I can't wait for the first teacher to read a sample of my writing in college, because I'll get all kinds of those nice "AWK" marks that my 8th grade English teacher liked to write, (Mrs. Liguori, bless her, she's the teacher that opened up the world of writing for me, made it much less of a chore than I had made it out to be) and try to make sense of it. As I stated previously, only I can understand the true meaning of my own writing. Though that hardly makes me special, as all authors have the highest understanding of their own writing. That's why we study and slave away at books in school, isn't it? To get the faintest morsel of an idea as to what the author was thinking when he or she wrote his or her novel? That's how I look at it, anyway. What fun is it to read a book purely to analyze the symbolism, possible allegories, motifs, themes, chiasmuses, syncheses, onomatopoeias, alliterations, or whatever else happens to be hidden in the novel? Obviously, if they can be detected by high school students with very basic literature experience, the author did not intend for the sole purpose his or her work to be to convey that literary element. Only through spending as much time reading a work as the author did writing it is the proper way to get into the author's head. Personally, spending years, or even decades focusing on a single work would drive me insane. That's why the people who do it get paid the big bucks. Therein lies the secret to being wealthy, do a whole lot of something that no one else wants to do any of. Do you have any idea of how much a garbage man gets paid? Ask one. I guarantee you'll be extremely surprised.
There's my rant for the evening, and I leave with something a bit more poetic. I've been churning out the lyrics lately, and came up with some that are slightly less embarrassing than as is the usual, so hopefully they're enjoyed.
This is entitled "Smoke Rising, I'm Falling"
The air is thick with laughter, my lungs are thick with smoke
The bedroom's growing smaller, with every word your voice spoke
Decisions not made lightly, seem to crumble down and die
As you sleep the night away, I have to stop and ask why, I'm falling
chorus-
Just because I've fell, doesn't mean that I'll keep falling
I've gotten up before, and you left me calling and calling
Seen it played, this rotten game, don't worry nothing new
And though I've fell, I'm gone, I'm falling, I'll still be the one to catch you
Surprise surprise, the day has died, the sun along the way
My bedroom's empty but for smoke, and yours is full today, oh
How wind picks up and spits it out, I'll never understand
The smoke coming from your room, the fire started with my own hand, I'm falling
*chorus*
Caught up with me (the fire's burning)
I'm falling slowly (the smoke's unfurling)
I'll catch you, you'll see (the dawn's returning)
This is how it should be (for you I'm learning)
*chorus and out*
That's about the long and short of it. Goodnight all, I'm headed for Rutgers orientation tomorrow. As always, thanks for reading!
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