okay, so finally caught up (somewhat) in life - booking plane tickets for weddings, vaccuuming, dusting, dishes, sleep? work? etc etc

there was a moment where i wished i had the swine flu (not the terminal kind) so i can just take a break from life and not have to do anything

if any of you decided you want to get married this year - f - u. i'm not coming. i'm done with weddings this year. DONE. if by some stroke of ridiculousness, i decide to get married this year. i will be obligated not to attend. i'm DONE.

so sometimes, midweek, especially during a long work week, 6-7 day week . . i get a little bitter, and a little cynical. i get less warm and less nurturing, and more fake.

watch how i am with you this week. if im too nice, it means i really hate you and i was forced to be fake with you. if i'm snippy, well that is the just the way the cookie crumbles this week :)

if anyone wants a michalada this week, please let me know

the only thing i want to do is curl up on in the living room watching gilmore girls - it's predictable, and lame and witty sometimes - just want i need to take my mind and dip it in some jello and freeze it.

okay, im back from twitter for an actual blog with actual complete thoughts.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/04/22/love.on.a.deadline/index.html?iref=t2test_livingwed

this woman has love on a deadline - good luck crazy.

okay so i've had a twitch in my left eye on and off for a few weeks now. there is either a good or bad luck factor in this according to my mother. which one? only time will tell.

i am now trying to recollect theories that may be of enough interest to discuss on 'da blog.

okay, people that love to hate the longhorns. get a life. we rule. i'm tired of this whole "you have too much pride" crap . . i mean really . . . so we found something in our aimless days of youth to guide us and nurture us into the fabulous* successes* we are today (*these terms are used loosely), so sue us. oh wait, in this world of frivolity . . you just might!

in other news, i reallllly love to hate the lakers. they are soo freaking good, that it's just pointless to not root for the other team . . . GO UTAH . . oh ya . . boozer's my homie. the whole utah team with their tailored goatees and waxed eyebrows look like the kumbia kings meet n'sync . . but taller i guess

today is hump day and i reaaaally wish it were friday. not even friday but like so way deep inside friday that the darkness of monday cannot reach me even two days away.

if anyone can find a way to eliminate allergies from life . . . or even specifically my life . . i'll give you five dollars. yes. and you can claim it in installments after you've paid taxes on it.

bloggity blog

here i am again - at home this time . . . letting my thoughts run like a banshee . . . and yes they scream like banshees too . . .

i feel my motherboard hanging on by her several final breaths and i scramble to make use of my companion laptop . . . the longest relationship i've had in years . . .

if you have not already noticed, i am largely a fan of the three dot ellipses. . .

here we embark on a time in our lives where the dust settles and the impossible becomes less possible, the unknown path of our future becomes slowly visible and is graced by (hopefully) thoughtful decisions and love and support . . . well . . i feel like i constantly beat this dead horse over and over, because it's just new and because of the nature of the beast, change is . . . a little less than dreaded and a little more than unwelcome . . .

done with the horse.

i think that people should not draw in their eyebrows with pencil unless the really have a circumstance in their lives where they grown no hair. otherwise, often times, it can look ridiculous. now if you've actually done it well, i havent noticed, then i don't care. kudos.

and does anyone else (that doesn't have an iphone and is insanely jealous of having one) find those little statements at the end of emails condescending?

" yada yada yada yada . . blah blah blah
and so on and so on and so on . . . . . . .
this is such an interesting email . . . . .
yours truly, t - money

Sent from my iPhone"


fantastic.

another thing. what about these rapper-turned-actors? really ? please pull yourself together and knock the bitches off your lap and wipe the dust off your nose before you try to have a facial expression on broadcast television. what producer/director/casting agent thought it was okay to have washed up wanna-be-pimps as the funny father figure or the tough guy cop . . .

judging by this blog, rants from home are a bit more bitter sounding eh?

happy notes

life has been good to me these past few weeks :)
god (or whatever aging bearded being is out there watching our every move), keep it coming paisano.

im into the italian thing for the moment - cant get enough of franky and his Mambo Italiano :)

also Peter Yorn - Lose You
and ive been obsessed with Peter Schilling for a while now . . i just heard one of his songs REDID in an F-ing LINCOLN commercial . . . that . . to me . . snatched my heart out of my chest . . i felt my stomach turn . . it was as if someone took Major Tom (the name of the song) . . slapped it around, and bent it over a table. but this time, the other watchmen did not come in and save the spectre of Major Tom. The defiled and tainted song was broadcasted and it all but stole a tear from my ungracious ducts.

god help the mainstream that keeps tempting me and disgusting me at the same time. this is one love-hate relationship i seem indebted to keep solid in my life.

The Final Cut - discussion

okay so there's this movie. The Final Cut. amazing title for the premise of the film by the way.

the premise: There is something called a Zoe Implant that can be implanted into an unborn child's brain that records audio and video through [the infant, then child, then adolescent, then teen, then adult ] 's eyes and ears. Upon death, the zoe implant can be accessed via external hardware storage device (it can fit in the palm of your hand) that can be retrieved from the Eye Tech Corporation. All the footage is then cut (via a computer called "the guillotine" yes aptly named) by independed contracters called "cutters." These cutters take hundreds of thousands of hours of footage (which the guillotine conveniently sorts into categories) and make a "rememory" which is shown to friends and family as part of the funeral process, about a two hour film supposedly encompassing the person's life and the essence of who they were.

some ethical points in the plot line: we're not meant to see things through anyone else's eyes; who are the cutter's to decide which parts of our lives make us who we are, and therefore how we are eternally remembered through the rememory; knowing that someone will be watching our life after we're gone, will it make us better people? and thereby not truly ourselves if we are acting on account that we are eternally being watched

i can get behind all the ethical points, as well as the insane coolness of this technology (should it ever exist) how far are we willing to go for coolness. pretty F-ing far sometimes. having all of my memories documented for me to retrieved at any point can be a powerful things, making me powerless at the same time. in therapy, memory is a powerful tool in understanding someone as they see themselves and as they see their lives. memory is far from objective, in actuality it can be one of the more subjective entities out there. we remember some things, forget others, we remember things different from others even if we shared the memory, colors are different, words are different. the point being, we remember things as we want them to fit into our idea of things. the things we cut out, they weren't really important to our schemas, to our world order. now, there will be exceptions, lesions, damage, alcohol that adversely affect memory as well . . but all that aside . . we would lose the power to taint our memory as sub- and un- consciously we do it, it has become an important blanket, an important mechanism that has worked for mankind thus far. taking away subjectability, having reality thrown at us whenever we need it, it can shake our world order to its core.

The Best Time = The Biggest Joke

Especially right after i graduated college, i had no sense of accomplishment and no sense of grandiosity about having a college education. I feel i breezed through it by the skin of my teeth . . . that i did my absolute best, not to do my best at school. Those four years, being the best of my life so far . . i have no doubt, will be the eternal "best time of my life."

with such an attitude, immortality at my fingertips, the certainity of large and grand unknown things in my future, everything a question and just living in the moment for today's drink specials and tomorrow's big exam. the naive thoughts that allowed me to fall deeply into everything i did. i don't wish i knew then what i know now. because, then, then would not have been as famous as it was.

but on the account of school, i feel that it was sort of a joke. i went to class every now and then, many classes i only showed up for the the syllabus on the first day and then on tests thereafter. for those classes with an electronic syllabus . . well . . it goes without saying . .

i slept and made friends, had philosophical discussions, read, ate, and mostly laughed and felt. i felt things freshly, for the first time ever and immersed myself in those things that had never done, the exploration and extroversian of college is epic.

but again, the schooling was not what i had expected. sure many classes were difficult, but if going to most of the classes and then cramming two (actually usually one) day before the test can get you an A or a B . . well . . what does that tell you . .

any tom dick and harry can get a ba or a bs. even from my college. it's a flipping joke.

the best time of our lives is the biggest joke of our lives.

sarcasm for the gods

in the last blog i made mention of my prior coping mechanism of running, of detachment, of a security blanket.

nowadays, it has become more and more easy for me to look things square in the eye. I think the threat of the rest of my life has hit me . . the threat that the rest of my life is at my doorstep and if i don't grow up, im going to have a shitty life. i'm going to be unhappy, passive aggressive, and aimless in the world.

for all the perfectionistic tendencies in me . . . all the "if it's not perfect, then it's not worth doing," go against my logical thoughts that include "it doesn't matter if it's not perfect, the act of doing is worth more than idealist perfection." perfection may or may not exist. if perfection is relative than it is everywhere, all the time, but only relatively. if it is not relative, by definition, and utopian, than it clearly doesn't exist. unless utopia is relative. :) and round and round we go.

theres some garbar in my stomach.

so advice to myself: don't run. eat better so there's less garbar. stop seeking something that doesn't exist. be real. have faith in myself at all times. find my bliss. try to do more things on my "things to do before I die." get people to stop talking in my office while I'm trying to blog. FRICK . .shut uppp and gett outttt . . . too bad they can't here my thoughts . . maybe i should be passive aggressive. hah.

sarcasm for the gods.

delirium

this is exactly what i wanted to avoid. time between my blogs.

after a week of soul searching, i find myself feeling more adult, more crazy, less composed, more direct, more afraid, more unsure about some things, less unsure about other things . .

when the concept of forever sneaks up behind you, even if you had it in the back of your mind anyway, it can be unnerving.

as i paragraph away through my blog with vague tidbits, just so you know, not everyone knows, and so hey, you know me and privacy.

the fact that magic i have felt and magic i have lost may be lost forever is deafening to my musical life. the fact that "the hourglass is glued to the table" . . well that may just frighten me into mediocrity and dullness. or it may frighten me into excitement and incompatibility.

when there are moments when emotions are so overwhelming that i can't think straight that the difficult moments of my life topple over each other and spill out of my ears and nose and mouth. . and my eyes are so flooded with bad decisions, with neurotic over analyzing, with a barrel of issues that make me incapable of acting like a normal person . . . when there are moments like that . . thats when i find out what i'm made of. in the past, normally for me, i run. maybe not physically, but sometimes yes. mainly i mentally detach, and i run away from any closeness. that detachment has been my blanket, my coping mechanism so the flooding stops, so i can preserve myself and all i have worked hard to become.

the more i thought about how i wanted my life to be, the more i felt i wanted to keep improving and even if i cant master everything, i'd like to keep moving forward. i want to be happy with what i have. i am happy with what i have. but my mind is something that i can't ever find it in my heart to leash. it resembles a wild boar, or a floating leaf, or a gladiator, or jack bauer, or p diddy, something that can't be harnessed or held down for long and longs to move forward and seek out its destiny.

my thoughts about destiny may be a future topic, i cant gather them at the moment.

i want my life to be hard, intellectual (hopefully not pretentious . . but sometimes it seems they do overlap), hilarious, and most of all full of feeling. feelings in my stomach, feelings in my chest. stirring all kinds of weirdness. the absence of stirration is a bad sign.

i have great friends and if i couldnt vent and process with them at the end of the day about my insecurities about the ticking clock, the enmeshed family and the exotic characters in my life . . . well . . i think i'd flood myself to delirium.