Ramblings

I’m getting rather concerned for myself. I have never put up with a pointless subject before; I’ve always felt the need to rebel a bit and hated the idea of putting effort into something I knew would never benefit me. But, here I am, learning a dead language of all things, and actually enjoying it, even though I am probably never going to get so devoted to a work of Plato that I would ever go into the Ancient Greek transcript to translate it. What on earth is happening? Doing my Greek homework is more fun to me than watching an episode of South Park.

Perhaps… should I try to become more passionate about this? Maybe I should devote more time to it, learning it and memorizing it. I should give it my all instead of treating it as a mere past time. But what jobs are there that have to deal with a knowledge of the Ancient Greek language? Probably not many, and for the ones that do involve themselves with it, they’re probably already taken by people who are much better at translating than I could ever hope to be.

This is very discouraging, but I guess the one benefit is that it probably exercises my brain more than some of my other hobbies, like watching television or scrolling through Facebook. God damn it, I need a life.  

We are made to write essays at St. Johns but are never given anything directly to write about. We must think of a topic and a prompt by ourselves, the only requirement being the length and that we only use books we’ve read in seminar as sources. I guess it is a very good way to get us to use our own brain power instead of using sources; essays in high school could be completely bullshitted so long as you had good sources. Everything you knew and wrote about had to come from an outside source. I asked one of my tutors if we could use multiple books for our Freshman essay and he said that he highly discouraged it; the more sources used, the shallower they will be made. At St. Johns, your source is one book and your head; you’re forced to discover enlightenment in your very own mind. I was wondering, do other colleges do this?

In William Faulkner’s book,Light in August, the life of a man named Christmas impacted the lives of others who would go on to continue the impact. I wrote a very poor essay full of plot summary on this, my last sentence being the only good one:

The disturbance of Christmas will continue to travel throughout time and space.

And in a way, even though he is a fictional character, it did continue its travel; when I read the book, I became fascinated with the effect a person going about his daily life could change the world so drastically. This was about the time period when I had realized that every book I read and enjoyed had been written by an existentialist sending forth his message, normally with a rather depressing outlook on things, yet the books were never effecting me negatively. They made me want to live my life fully through any way possible in order to send my impact across the world. 

I realized today that this could be considered fractal. If cause and effect doesn’t relate to the fractal shape (which I think it very well can), then fractals can’t apply, but they do. They consist of cause and effect, they consist of time, they consist of shape, of evolution, of spirituality, of everything.

This is me merely trying to figure out the fractal itself, on my own journey. If this isn’t your interpretation, do tell me… I would love to learn more.

Every now and then I get a friend. A good friend, not some person who I only hang out with because they’re around, but someone I feel close to, think about, and wonder how they’re doing. I’ve often felt that I have an easier time getting along with guys, and perhaps I do in the short run, but looking back on it, it seems every one of these friends I’ve gotten close to is a girl. They’re all interesting girls, too. Not boring girls, not loud girls, not cliche girls… but these girls with an interesting spirit. Girls who are defining themselves in an honest way, according to their ousia… each is a ”being at work staying itself.” None are faking anything. They are honest to goodness beautiful females, and I have felt a special warmth towards each of them. They’ve all been pretty artsy too… maybe I do get along with artists. Just not artists who take themselves seriously. They don’t really seem to claim to be anything at all - they just are! I have learned from all of them, and they are the most genuine females I’ve ever met.

“If it’s real, it can take the pressure.” - Terence Mckenna

Søren Kierkegaard, The Present Age

I think that I’m starting to remember why I enjoyed reading about existentialism back in 10th grade. It was what made my life magical; it was why I lived in order to write an interesting story in my diary. A conversation is a good thing; knowledge is delightful. But what are those things without actions or adventures? I’m sure there are many adventures to be had in Annapolis but the culture here is rather snobbish. CULTURE. That’s another thing. I’ve been watching lots of Terence Mckenna videos on Youtube and he’s extremely anti-culture; it’s very easy to see why. It can form a person into a mere depiction of the society he lives in. I’d like to switch up my society, and keep switching it up… I want to find out who I really AM. I want to act and do instead of sit and think. I’m tired of this lifestyle; I have to get out of here!

Sorry, Float On haters… but if I could wake up to this song every morning, I’d probably be one of the happiest girls in the world.

I’m trapped, learn a language that no one speaks, politika zwon, leave me alone!

I need to paint, I need to serve. I need to wander, camp, be released.

Financial obligations cease now, please! I’m lost, lost, lost.

Philosophy, why? Why should I let you complicate my thoughts?

Being can’t be because it’s composed of beings and thus partakes in itself - why do I need to think about that? How is that going to decomplicate my life?

And when I realize, the philosophy that I once love I now try to push away; I develop my thoughts, put them out, but don’t allow them to get to me.

When all this happens in my own head, contained in a tiny place and not allowed to go free, it contains my energy that needs to flee.

Life is here and life is now, where I live is where I dwell, philosophy’s here and so is Greek, I’m forced to think, I’m made to speak. I’m angry, I’m trapped, I need to be free, I can’t… will I ever?

I got this little man named Boulder. I am not myself without some little fellow scampering all over me, messing up my hair, napping in my pocket, and peeing on my clothes. I’ve been terribly depressed lately and knew the only solution was to get my little fellow. He’s not as awesome as Gracie, but no one can beat Gracie in the friend department. She was everything good and Boulder so far has been a picky and snobbish child, though cute enough that it doesn’t matter.

After getting Boulder, I’ve felt quite a bit more myself. I’ve been social, cheery, and productive. Life has felt complete.

I don’t know whether to define myself by what I can do (for I’m not much good at anything, really) or what I cannot do, what others think of me or what I think of myself, how I fit into the world, what my aspirations are or what I have already aspired to do and succeeded at, or, worse, what I’ve aspired to do and failed at. I cannot be an actor for I have no role to play in life that I have discovered yet; I have no goal or desire. I want to make people happy with themselves yet am not satisfied with my own self. I seek acceptance and fail incredibly at attaining it.

Lost and searching, stuck and fumbling… all my dreams are endless bumbling, they’re murmurers lost in a howling wind and a timeline crooked in endless sin.

Anonymous asked: Where do you like it most? Ass or pussy?

I don’t care for either. You undermine my thought process. If that is all you can think to ask a girl then you are one of the most miserable people. Get your head out of the world of sex; when it gets to the point of wanting to know these things from random people, then it has gotten to the point where you have no mind for success. I am disgusted with you; you are scum and your mind is underdeveloped. If you can’t ask me anything meaningful, if your question cannot obtain growth in your spirit or mine, then fuck off. This is not a sex blog. This is my mind and I do not desire such primal and inconsequential substance. (This goes to anyone else asking sexual related questions, because I get them a lot. You are not benefiting yourself and you are not benefiting me. So shut the hell up ‘til your mind is out of the gutter: That is when I shall be excited to speak to you.)

I’m tired of being philosophical, thinking about things, sitting still and reading a book that shan’t do anything but improve my mind…

Screw that. Being in one place is awful. I need to have a year or two of indulging in wanderlust before I can appreciate being stuck in a dormitory and being held in one place by $100 classes. I need to travel.

I’ve always wanted to travel and break free from my sheltered existence… and that was my rant… sorry I’m not posting any substantial material.

Sipping on a song of life, Rain patters upon my strife, I gaze out my window sitting on this bed of mine.

 Hair is dry but face is wet, There’s no joy but there’s no fret, Fuck my life except it’s so irrelevant in time.

 God, I’ve lost myself, And I’ve placed you on that heavy shelf Of all my past indulgences From the time I used to love myself. And what is my soul Except there on that shelf Of pictures and some books to read About a living thing called me.

Give me drugs, something to forget, Or perhaps a trip to unravel my head, Bring me to familiarity, Help me please to see…

 When did I become like this? Why do I worry when my life is meaningless? How can I indulge When I’m so intent to always resolve, Seemingly intent to always fail, And can never get anything right- All this shit for a thing called life.

I don’t belong here. I don’t know where I belong. I have a weak mind and as much as I’d love to do something brilliant with my life, I doubt it could ever happen. My interests and passions are not strong enough to stand out. I’ll always be small… a bit of dust in this crazy world.

Maybe I’m a pessimist. Maybe my self esteem has taken a strong blow over the past year and I automatically assume it to be all my fault. Maybe I’m an idiot to believe that I can go to college and make something out of myself by causing my parents to spend so much money.

I don’t know how to be smart, I don’t know how to be acceptable, I don’t know how to be real.

I know how to laugh but not how to speak. I know how to listen but not how to ask. I know how to dream but not how to think.

An “I’m sorry”, just in case this offends people or even if just seeing the title reminds them that they’re a wee bit overweight and bumps their self esteem down a bit. Maybe it’d be different if my parents took me out eat a bit or filled our food with fat or never gave us desserts. Maybe I’d feel hurt. But I do not understand and admit to being ignorant to the plight of those heavier than myself; after all, they chose to be ignorant of their food and condition. I believe he makes very good points about consumerism and eating trash, and then when he gets into the bit about the school system and government leaders lowering Americans’ standards of what it means to be smart… Oh, George Carlin. I love you.