Wow, I'm back and in way less than several years. That's new. After finishing my post at around 6am yesterday I decided that I should concentrate on writing a book in the future, thus the self imposed necessitation for a concise approach to this blog thing. Rather than the blah blah blah blog, we're going to try to stick to the one blah in the blog. I admit, yesterday's post was a bit long, but somewhat of an intro to me, in an apropos tangential run kind of way.
I am kind of obsessive when it comes to my writing. I spent the majority of my computer time yesterday editing and reposting that one entry like an obsessive kook throughout the day. Even tampered with a picture I hadn't realized my mom had taken of me. That pic was so in the moment I referred to in the past and is so relevant to the theme of my little blog here. In all of my editing I don't believe I was able to cut anything out. I most likely just weighed it down with some additional words while I was making corrections.
Unfortunately for me, in my life in general I seem to have a lot of excess things I really don't need in order to compensated for what I probably do. (Even my sentences sometimes, "a lot" "excess" "don't need" all in that last one, me essentially saying the same thing numerous times). Where was I??? oh yes, excess...
Some examples are as follows: I have way too many pairs of shoes, but I don't walk enough; I spend too many hours awake and not enough asleep or vice versa; and I have way too many aspirations and not enough accomplishments to account for them in my opinion...just to name a few.
I believe that in order to find a balance of some sort, some things have to go. Including me. I have to find a way to go places that will move me away from the excess. Hence, my endeavour into my Career Pick of the Day in my last post. I have realized that I need to start thinking moves and making them.
I guess I boarded this train of thought yesterday when I was snacking on a mini Twix and some fake healthy Sun Chips at my soon to be over mini job. (We will probably touch on this staggering subject matter at some point in the near future). I began to think the thoughts I always think whenever I eat anything, "this is only going to make me fatter." Unfortunately for my weight this doesn't really do much for preventing me from continuous consumption.
If only I could not do the things that make things worse for me, trim them from my life so to speak. It seems I have simply gotten too comfortable. Just as my body fat contributes to keeping me all warm and cozy, the hypothetical excess I have has become a familiar part of me and yet I hate it just the same.
When I think of it all, here is were I always end up. Knowing the should but not the actualized how.
Today's blah really took a turn down a path I hadn't really expected to go. My attempts at concision have sneakily tricked me down a path of transparency. Who knew? I am usually pretty good at avoiding this terrain. So lets wrap it up.
From here on out to as long as I can ;D , I intend to try and make a point each day to trim. Yesterday was the beginning. An action that will hopefully lead to more actions that will then lead to something meaningful. I view this as my pursuit of the realization of the aphorism "An ounce of action is worth a ton of theory" ~ Friedrich Engels.
My ultimate objective: To mobilize as what I am, rather than remain suspended in the wishes and possibilities.
Mantra: stop talking and be (Namaste...hahaha jk look at me trying to sound all deep)
(Sidebar: J. Lo's completely fake accent in this movie is equally as horrible a her acting, making the creators all the more wrong for making this movie (Blood and Wine) and the casting director all the more wrong-er for casting her!!! Oh yea and I think I may have failed already, not sure if this post is any shorter than the last...)
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Another Starting Point
An all too familiar routine. I am up again at 3 am after a long morning, noon, night, and ultra early morning of searching for the missing pieces that will make the puzzling vision of my life a whole picture. Yesterday, I made one minute step (or rather just began to lift my leg) towards the direction of a glamorized perspective I have created of my future. In many ways it was more like a step backwards, however, the different direction I feel I need to survive none the less.
By now I am sure you are curious what I did, or not, considering how uneventful and subsequently uninteresting my life has been up until this point. I don't mind sharing regardless. I essentially walked some steps I have walked before by applying to the JC I graduated from a whole 7 years ago (WOW) although this time I have a better objective in mind rather than simply going to take classes that will allow me to be eligible to play ball and eventually get a bachelors degree in something some day.
Despite the event I refer to as "the devastation" (not referencing that Jersey Shore atrocity with what would make for an awesome alias btw), I have found that what doesn't kill me, often makes me really mad in addition to possibly stronger (but who really knows anyways when all I can think about is how the thing that didn't kill me just shouldn't have happened at all).
So this is what happened...A few months ago I spent an awesomely tumultuous trip to Europe with my Mum. It was filled with emotional ups and downs as well as an actual roller coaster for kicks. During these 8 days my mom and I found ourselves walking the thin line (hold up...Sidebar: watching Miami Vice and shaking my head at this most ridiculous gun fight on the planet...did he really think his gun was going to stop the other bullets? *smh* where was I...oh yes) we found ourselves walking the thin line between love and hate's bff, misunderstanding.
On our trip we did what travelers do. We got lost. We got excited when we found our way. We argued in frustration. We hugged in reconciliation. We repeated ourselves in English to the English (apparently each of our versions of the same language is difficult for the other to understand). We said "parlez vous anglais?" to the French. And we took pictures. Lots of them.
Fortunately we had lots of ways to take pictures as well. My mom had her cell phone that surprisingly took some Conde Nast worthy shots (if you know her, you've seen them), and in addition to my phone I was loaded down with a dated digital Kodak camera and my bros Phoenix P-5000, a wonderful little 35 mm that I thought I had a clue how to use and found that I needed quite a few more clues to use it properly. I planned to imprision those memories one way or another.
Long story short, I had an old Kodak 35mm hand-me-down camera from my grandfather that I used to take some note worthy pics at my friends' weddings several years ago after which I deemed myself pro quality and the camera deemed itself dysfunctional. I soon found out that my bros camera was quite different from my slighly archaic one and I didn't even know how to load the dang thing. At one point I caught myself thinking I needed to change the film after merely clicking the camera at and around the Changing of the Guards and Buckingham Palace for about an hour. That was pretty sad, but the true devastation came on our last day in London.
After yahoo chatting with my bro and figuring out how to load the camera, I encountered "the devastation." On our last full day in London my mom and I decided to spend our remaining hours there in a super charged site seeing frenzy before we hopped on a train to Paris the next day. Our blood pumping kept us from freezing as we scavenger hunted various notable locations. We took pictures of Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, ourselves in Red Phone Booths and Double Decker buses, the spectacular Tower Bridge (once we found out that was what we wanted to see rather than the far less than spectacular London Bridge), Marble Arch, and of course what I would consider Ozwald Boatang's "Suit Gallery" on Savile Row.
After Tower Bridge my freezing fingers attempted to wind the film up to replace it with a new roll. As I wound I heard a repetitive clicking noise and felt the tension increase with every turn. I felt it wasn't right and when the film and confetti like bits sprung out of the camera when I opened it I found that it wasn't right at all. I wanted to cry, but instead I took the opportune moment to bite the head off of the store associate that told me I couldn't take pictures of the items in the store my mom had led me into (if it were YSL or Hermes or something along those lines I would understand the concern with the camera and all, but I am pretty well-versed in fashion labels and I had never heard of the ones in that store). With my film in shambles and devastation on my face, I looked at the mess in my hands, then at her, and after shooting her and deflating her audacity with the darts from my eyes I proceeded to ask her if at that moment it looked like I was taking pictures!
I eventually pardoned my anger with myself as I looked at the mediocre quality of the pics my dated digital camera had taken with my mom (camera's fault, not hers), and merely perused my memory for images of the pictures that would have been. I got back on the horse after another enlightening yahoo chat. I loaded the camera, took some pics, and unloaded the camera properly several times. I haven't used the camera since the trip, but I intend to use it a whole lot more. Almost took a picture of a beautiful cloud yesterday but the batteries were dead.
As of late my Career Catch of the Day iiiiissss (drum roll please....) Renowned Photo Artist. Not sure how long this will take to manifest or how, but I applied to De Anza College for a second time yesterday so I can take a photo class over the summer. I believe becoming this will suit the life I want to live. I am fully aware that none of my ideal choices are positively lucrative pursuits, but I haven't gotten to the point of wanting to compromise my belief in my place in a non corporate niche yet. I have visited the idea many times (even randomly took half of a computer programming class at one point), however the very idea of it makes my stomach turn a few degrees. My only hope is that after a few degrees I'll finally figure out exactly where I belong.
When has extra education ever hurt anyways...I take that back, those student loans are a bit painful :o/
By now I am sure you are curious what I did, or not, considering how uneventful and subsequently uninteresting my life has been up until this point. I don't mind sharing regardless. I essentially walked some steps I have walked before by applying to the JC I graduated from a whole 7 years ago (WOW) although this time I have a better objective in mind rather than simply going to take classes that will allow me to be eligible to play ball and eventually get a bachelors degree in something some day.
Despite the event I refer to as "the devastation" (not referencing that Jersey Shore atrocity with what would make for an awesome alias btw), I have found that what doesn't kill me, often makes me really mad in addition to possibly stronger (but who really knows anyways when all I can think about is how the thing that didn't kill me just shouldn't have happened at all).
So this is what happened...A few months ago I spent an awesomely tumultuous trip to Europe with my Mum. It was filled with emotional ups and downs as well as an actual roller coaster for kicks. During these 8 days my mom and I found ourselves walking the thin line (hold up...Sidebar: watching Miami Vice and shaking my head at this most ridiculous gun fight on the planet...did he really think his gun was going to stop the other bullets? *smh* where was I...oh yes) we found ourselves walking the thin line between love and hate's bff, misunderstanding.
On our trip we did what travelers do. We got lost. We got excited when we found our way. We argued in frustration. We hugged in reconciliation. We repeated ourselves in English to the English (apparently each of our versions of the same language is difficult for the other to understand). We said "parlez vous anglais?" to the French. And we took pictures. Lots of them.
Fortunately we had lots of ways to take pictures as well. My mom had her cell phone that surprisingly took some Conde Nast worthy shots (if you know her, you've seen them), and in addition to my phone I was loaded down with a dated digital Kodak camera and my bros Phoenix P-5000, a wonderful little 35 mm that I thought I had a clue how to use and found that I needed quite a few more clues to use it properly. I planned to imprision those memories one way or another.
Long story short, I had an old Kodak 35mm hand-me-down camera from my grandfather that I used to take some note worthy pics at my friends' weddings several years ago after which I deemed myself pro quality and the camera deemed itself dysfunctional. I soon found out that my bros camera was quite different from my slighly archaic one and I didn't even know how to load the dang thing. At one point I caught myself thinking I needed to change the film after merely clicking the camera at and around the Changing of the Guards and Buckingham Palace for about an hour. That was pretty sad, but the true devastation came on our last day in London.
After yahoo chatting with my bro and figuring out how to load the camera, I encountered "the devastation." On our last full day in London my mom and I decided to spend our remaining hours there in a super charged site seeing frenzy before we hopped on a train to Paris the next day. Our blood pumping kept us from freezing as we scavenger hunted various notable locations. We took pictures of Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, ourselves in Red Phone Booths and Double Decker buses, the spectacular Tower Bridge (once we found out that was what we wanted to see rather than the far less than spectacular London Bridge), Marble Arch, and of course what I would consider Ozwald Boatang's "Suit Gallery" on Savile Row.
After Tower Bridge my freezing fingers attempted to wind the film up to replace it with a new roll. As I wound I heard a repetitive clicking noise and felt the tension increase with every turn. I felt it wasn't right and when the film and confetti like bits sprung out of the camera when I opened it I found that it wasn't right at all. I wanted to cry, but instead I took the opportune moment to bite the head off of the store associate that told me I couldn't take pictures of the items in the store my mom had led me into (if it were YSL or Hermes or something along those lines I would understand the concern with the camera and all, but I am pretty well-versed in fashion labels and I had never heard of the ones in that store). With my film in shambles and devastation on my face, I looked at the mess in my hands, then at her, and after shooting her and deflating her audacity with the darts from my eyes I proceeded to ask her if at that moment it looked like I was taking pictures!
I eventually pardoned my anger with myself as I looked at the mediocre quality of the pics my dated digital camera had taken with my mom (camera's fault, not hers), and merely perused my memory for images of the pictures that would have been. I got back on the horse after another enlightening yahoo chat. I loaded the camera, took some pics, and unloaded the camera properly several times. I haven't used the camera since the trip, but I intend to use it a whole lot more. Almost took a picture of a beautiful cloud yesterday but the batteries were dead.
As of late my Career Catch of the Day iiiiissss (drum roll please....) Renowned Photo Artist. Not sure how long this will take to manifest or how, but I applied to De Anza College for a second time yesterday so I can take a photo class over the summer. I believe becoming this will suit the life I want to live. I am fully aware that none of my ideal choices are positively lucrative pursuits, but I haven't gotten to the point of wanting to compromise my belief in my place in a non corporate niche yet. I have visited the idea many times (even randomly took half of a computer programming class at one point), however the very idea of it makes my stomach turn a few degrees. My only hope is that after a few degrees I'll finally figure out exactly where I belong.
When has extra education ever hurt anyways...I take that back, those student loans are a bit painful :o/
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