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Ever Thus to Deadbeats

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21st September 2005

9:56pm: If you don't smell bad you could check out my new LJ.

Note that it is a drug free, bullshit free, drama free land. Dont say anything to me you wouldnt say to your priest.

marchofprogress

15th September 2005

5:41pm: FUCK EMO
Every now and again when I am putting off doing homework, I check out my LJ friends page..

Seriously, though, when did you all become a bunch of pussies? Most of you people aren't metal at all, nor are you anywhere near pirates; at best, you collectively have the hardness of my pillow. And that's stuffed with feathers.

So, for the first time ever available, Here's Anthony's Book Of Advice:

Do you have a problem with someone? FUCKING TELL THEM TO THEIR FACE AND DONT TELL ANYONE (ANYONE) ELSE ABOUT IT! Nobody cares, its not anyone elses business, you're picking up bad karma, and you're not fixing anything. To me that's one of two things: 1- Talking shit, 2- Bitching ... Neither of these things are good, in my opinion. Have some class. Some tact. At least some.

Do you think drugs are dangerous? THEN FUCKING STOP DOING THEM. Don't tell people that they need to stop and do more of it yourself, thats fucking hypocritical and makes people want to spit on you. Then they talk about you behind your back or on LJ. The GOVERNMENT is BAD AND EVIL, but there are cohesive solid reasons that some drugs are illegal. If you don't live long enough for them to cause you legal/health problems, at the very least they make you stupider. I can tell you for a fact that people who are high sound stupider than they really are. You may not think that the drugs affect you, but they do. They certainly do. They havea word for "not thinking they affect you" - that, ladies and gents, is called "denial."


As an addition to that, Do you smoke too many cigs? CUT DOWN! I am a firm believer in empowerment. If you want something fucking get it. There's an element of denial here too. Me personally, I know smoking is bad for me. Why haven't I stopped? Because, ohmigod, I like smoking!!

Do you miss someone immensely? TELL THEM ABOUT IT. If every time you talk to people you tell them about how much you miss someone else, the people start to think that you dont give two shits about them. The love of my life lives an hour and a half away from here, do you think I don't miss her? When's the last time I told you I did? Telling everyone you know about how much you miss someone is like walking around talking on a cell phone all the time. It's rude, inconsiderate, and it shows how you really feel.


I mean, come on people. If you're reading this right now, you're reasonably intelligent and you're probably pretty cool. You people need to harden up. And fucking stop lying to yourselves. Pull your heads out of your asses; you're smarter than this. I hope.

Cus, I mean, not to be an asshole but ... WTF? Seriously. Sometimes this sort of thing is exactly what people need. Sometimes a good slap wakes you up. If nothing else, it gives you something REAL AND TANGIBLE to whine about.

Because.. I mean.. This was a thought that occurred to me when I was walking around campus looking at people with disgust.

WHEN THE FUCK DID EVERYONE IN THE WORLD BECOME EMO????

LJ Drama!!!! I try to avoid all drama at all costs, in its entirety. I've gone so far in my life in my attempt to avoid drama that there have been long stretches of time where I fucking don't talk to ANYONE except the people I see when I go about my business, if that. Why?

BECAUSE ITS TOTALLY, 100% UNIMPORTANT AND TRIVIAL AND I DON'T CARE. If all you're going to talk about is drugs and other people, is it any wonder you haven't seen me around much lately?


.Think.
Current Mood: annoyed

31st March 2005

2:11pm: Now that Terri Schiavo is dead, we can all go on pretending that we don't see.

25th March 2005

2:46am: If you see something here, it is probably not true. You cant prove anything. Who's asking?
Current Mood: PARANOID

23rd March 2005

3:05am: My Livejournal Entry
Here's a LiveJournal Entry- it's instant emo, just add tears!!::

Ehh, I hate everything.
Ehh, I am miserable.
Ehh, my life sucks.
Ehh, I'm not going to do anything about it but whine.
Ehhhhhh.

I must now take 50 pictures of my feet and post them on the Internet. The first shall be titled "The Darkness Of My Inner Demons."

EHHHHH
Current Mood: drunk

4th March 2005

9:37pm: Skynyrd songs will get stuck in your head all day long, and then again the next day.
Having the Greatest Hits of Skynyrd playing in your car is like mental torture. Why subject yourself to that every day?

I don't know. It's good shit though.


::throws good karma at you:: here have this

22nd February 2005

12:10pm: I have no reason to be over-optimistic,
But somehow when you smile
I can brave bad weather.

21st February 2005

12:10am: This is bad news.

15th February 2005

1:16pm: WaveCaster
This is the coolest thing ever.

14th February 2005

11:28am: You know, I have a Valentine, but it makes me sad seeing how many people don't. Valentine's day is cool when you have someone to shower with chocolate, but very un-cool if you don't. And if you do have someone to shower with chocolate, you should be happy and you should be doing it anyway, but if you don't, then Valentine's Day is just like ... A kick in the proverbial balls, is it not?
I don't understand it.

Does this holiday do enough good to justify making so many people feel so bad?
Current Mood: loved

7th February 2005

11:06am: COMMA SPLICE
I make the Horrible Comma Splice Error nearly every day talking online; does it make me pretentious to use a semicolon while talking on AIM or something?

5th February 2005

3:30am: Uhhhhhh...THE SUPER BOWL!
::burp::

1st February 2005

10:33pm: To David Q. Weisberg, Esq. in response to the all-time great philosophical question "how do you know you believe in God?" : :
I have found the answer, and it is but one word:

HUBRIS!

That is all.

26th January 2005

11:02am: There's a shadow just behind me,
shrouding every stepI take,
making every promise empty,
pointing every finger at me.
Waiting like a stalking butler
who upon the finger rests.
Murder now the path called "must we"
just before the son has come.

Jesus, won't you fucking whistle
something but the past and done?
Jesus, won't you fucking wistle
Something but the past and done?

Why can't we not be sober?
I just want to start this over.
Why can't we drink forever.
I just want to start things over.

I am just a worthless liar.
I am just an imbecile.
I will only complicate you.
Trust in me and fall as well.
I will find a center in you.
I will chew it up and leave,
I will work to elevate you
just enough to bring you down.

Trust me.

Mother Mary won't you whisper
something but what's past and done.

Trust me.

I want what I want.

23rd January 2005

9:12pm: Im the shit


You Are 3 Years Old



3





Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe.

13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world.

20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences.

30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more!

40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.


Current Mood: quixotic

18th January 2005

1:07pm: I found myself at a gas station the other day asking for directions on how to get home. There was a man standing outside with a smile that was too big for any real person to have - it seemed to stretch from the bottom of one eye to the top of another. He tipped his top hat at me and told me he was a magician. I figured he might know where I was or how I could get home, so I walked over to him.
He offered his hand for me to shake and he smiled. The chills almost broke me as they ran up my spine. I reached out my hand to shake his but when I looked down, his hand had turned into a bundle of snakes.
He laughed and said he tricked me.
So I punched him in his jaw and told him he wasn't even real and the joke was on him.
He disappeared, but he took a part of me with him.

And goddamn it that part went down fighting.

11th January 2005

8:53pm: my schedule
This is my schedule. Do you have classes with me? YOU SHOULD!
Monday: 1230-120 Chem 1

Tues: 2-250 Chem Discussion
3-415 Prosecution
430-550 Corrections
6-850 Psych of religion

Wed: 1230-120 Chem 1

Thurs: 3-415 Prosecution
430-550 Corrections

Fri 1230-120 Chem 1
330-420 Physio Psych

10th January 2005

10:39am: Go to google, type in 'crock of shit' and hit 'I'm feeling lucky.'

6th January 2005

2:29am: Dust
Fifty years from now, you’ll have no idea what you were doing at this point in your life. For that matter, five years from now you won’t know. You can look back, and you may be able to say where you were when, but you won’t really know why. It’s not conceivable the reason you are in the moment you’re in unless you are actually in it.
That said, the bias of hindsight enters in everything we do. Everything that happens does so for a reason, and those reasons are not always evident when the event occurs. Most of the time they are invisible well before the event as well.
But if you were to somehow be able to make it so that you were having hindsight as you were going about your routine- that you were able to have the benefit of having created no new knowledge about an event simply by it’s having occurred- would everything not get so dreadfully predictable? There would never be anything that was unexpected. If I take an object and drop it, I am reasonably well assured it would fall to the floor because I have seen it happen so many times that I have just added it to my working knowledge- it never leaves the desk in my mind. Its carved there. The writing on the tabula rasa isn’t chalk, it’s scars. They are permanent.
It is only because of erosion that these thoughts exist. Every time something happens, the nail gets one hit from the hammer. Some nails stick out more than others, but some nails are so firmly pounded in that the hammer has knocked down the area around the head of the nail in order to create room to further move it downward. That hammer hits several times daily for something like gravity, but for some things you’ve got to find a way to get the nail to start going into the board in the first place. You have to hold it firmly with your fingers and have good enough aim to not hit your thumb, hurting yourself and making you feel a bit foolish.
“I should’ve seen that coming,” you say. Aiming at something you hold between your fingers is the same as aiming at your fingers. So, indeed, you should have known that.
But you didn’t, otherwise it would not have happened, and you would not have noticed it- the strike of the hammer that hits your thumb is remembered far more than the other number of hammer strikes you would make. So you should have seen it coming, and in fact, you did. You’re seeing it right now, and you’re avoiding it. I know that if I bang my head against the wall it will be painful. I am therefore actively not doing that. If I spill my drink, however, I would think that I should have seen it coming.
And if I did always see it coming, things would be so homogenized that I would be eternally jaded, left with no room to bargain or be anything different. Fifty years from now I have no idea where I’ll be. I don’t even know where I’ll be in five years, just as I didn’t know where I would be now five years ago. Of course I didn’t know physically, but I am a wholly different person now than I was five years ago. And I will be more different five years from now.
I look around me and I see everyone desperately trying to make something happen, trying to find something to grab and sink their teeth into, something that is not simply temporal. It seems that everyone I know is looking for a job, even those who are employed; most of the people I know are either unemployed or are loathe to go to work. People take extreme lengths to avoid working. Or pretty much anything.
What are you doing?
What am I doing?
Are we actually going somewhere, or are we riding a ship to a shore that is not ever coming, sails and motor be damned? What do we do when we get there? Stop? Is it about the journey or the destination?
These are the sort of thoughts that run through my head and keep me from thinking about minute things. It keeps me from worrying unnecessarily to think that nothing will matter. Note that I say ‘nothing will matter’ and not ‘nothing matters.’ What I mean here is that most of what we do at any given time is inconsequential at some point down the road, so it’s best to focus on it while it’s happening because it’s happening now, however long ‘now’ may be.
So what are we afraid of?
There’s the issue of security. We want to be safe down the road, we want to have direction, have a set place to be, have something holding us together, have something to devote our lives to. If people spend enough time *not* devoting their lives to doing something, they lose all drive to do anything.
And then there’s the people who just get swept up in the wind as it blows through the halls. Everything becomes a maelstrom, always something to do, always stressed, never a single moment to rest and have a moment of clarity. They tumble about and then one day see that so many days, or weeks, or months, or years have gone to waste, that all they’ve done to occupy their time is occupy their time.
So from one extreme to the other, either not caring at all or caring too much, the person ends up burning out. They either become accustomed to having no drive or their drive wears them out. It’s another of life’s little grey zones, as they all seem to be. The Safe Zone. Moderation.
Work now, play later, but constantly work to make play and work the same thing so that you won’t dread going to work. Study Subject X in school, graduate with a degree in it, then end up selling insurance. End up in real estate. End up working on cars. End up doing any number of things, only a handful of which are within your “field.” What if you change your mind?
What if you don’t?
The point of the ride isn’t to get to the end. Certainly you’ll want to settle yourself at one point and put some roots in the ground, but at the same time, it’s important to not get stopped along the way. There’s boulders in the road. You can sit down by them and stop walking. You can sleep in the shade, rest your bones for the night. You can try pushing them. You can knock on them, or climb them, run around them, blow them up, whatever you want. Or you can walk past them.
The space between them is small. If you started pushing one boulder and you got it far enough, eventually you’d come up to another one in your path. Do you try to push both? Do you leave one and push the other? If so, which one do you push?
And then the whole thing collapses like a house made of cards.
Falling to the floor, shuffled up and nonsensical, while the wind blows from the door of the house to the back wall, flipping some cards others and leaving some to become, eventually, just another piece of dust.

3rd January 2005

10:15pm: It's nearing the end of my trip to the Hometown, which is no longer really the Hometown. About as soon as I left for school my parents started looking for a new house. Now they live in an "Active Adult Community," which is basically a retirement community for those who aren't infirm enough to be hospitalized or anything. It's a giant community with a few golf courses and whatnot.
They finally moved into this house at the same time I moved into my house in Orlando- some time in the middle of the summer. I made the voyage back and forth to help them move a few times, and they finally got settled in along the line somewhere. I don't know- my voyages were sort of few and far between. It's sort of creepy to be here in this house. It's a very odd sort of feeling. I remember when I'd come home on breaks or just for weekend trips or something before they moved in here, I would be able to say "I'm at home" when people asked where I was, and I'd always feel a bit weird about it. Was that home? It wasn't the house I was born in; I moved there just before my 9th birthday, but I did live there until I moved away to college. Then there were dorms and the Infamous 308, but now...
It's an odd feeling, and it's an odd thing to say that "I'm at my parents' house." Because it's true. This is my parent's house- I never actually lived here. I've just stayed here a few times, this being the longest period. I came home for the holidays, the first ones spent in their new house.
And it scares me a bit. Angela and I got into a somewhat-heated discussion about places like this. She says they waste space and other stuff. The point of the discussion was insignificant- I was just thinking of something I thought of but didn't say. This is a place where people essentially come to die.
So they're here living out their last years, desperately clinging to hope that they'll be long and prosperous.

And it's good; this place has had a wonderful effect on them both. But theres still a river of solitude that runs through all the rooms in this house, and the bridges between them are solid and long. My dad spends most of the day on the computer playing games, my mom reads the newspaper and watches television. The first few days I was here the conversations were flying about, as they tend to, but eventually it ended up where I was spending most of my time at home alone. I've been here in my room reading or writing or playing my guitar or on the computer or doing whatever.

Is this what life is like?
So many people living in their own little compartments?
I always get the sense that my parents are very lonely and isolated people because of the way things look from a birds eye view but I don't get it from talking to them. It seems like they're reasonably happy the way they are.
And that's good. I haven't seen my mother this happy since well before my brother died. She's got that glow back in her eyes- she's alive again. That's a good thing to see, regardless of whether land is being wasted or if they don't mow their own lawn.

But still. The ennui that keeps me running is still doing so, and I trek back to Orlando tomorrow. Every time I leave, my mother cries. I don't get it.. Or maybe I do and that's the problem.

I'm leaving no room for comments because I'm not writing this for you, and I usually end up getting comments that say something like 'that was too long I didnt read it,' which discourages me from talking to people. Yeah.

9th December 2004

6:15pm: Especially not the same day as John Lennon!
11:05am: You can't kill Dimebag Darrell!!!!
It's...
It's.......
It's not right:(

RIP

8th December 2004

9:31pm: Huh huh...Asians.

5th December 2004

3:06pm: This comes from info in my Criminal Justice Textbook:
'The number of Americans in prison or jail has almost tripled since 1985 and is continuing to rise..."
"Alfred Blumstein of Carnegie Mellon University attributes much of the growth in the number of Americans behind bars to the enhancement and stricter enforcement of the nation's drug laws. Since 1980, he points out, the rate of incarceration for drug arrests in the United States has risen 1,000 percent, and there are more Americans in prison or jail for drug offesnes today than there were for all offenses in the early 1970s. In 1980, dtug offenders accounted for 25 percent of inmates in federal prison; today, they account for almost 60 percent."

So then tell me - why do prisons face overcrowding?
Because some people smoke marijuana?
Are you going to stop that?

30th November 2004

9:17pm: Sometimes people post song lyrics in their LIVEJOURNALS. This pisses me off.
That being said, here are some lyrics:
"I've been used
Been abused,
I've been bruised,
I've been broken-
Had my back up against the wall.
But my will
To survive
Can't be stolen
And you can't make me fall."
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