Spirals

I
Put
One foot
Forwards take
Five steps in reverse
Then lose myself in spirals
Wind up at the start
My journey
Begins
And
So

What is happening to me?

After waking up from one of my daytime two-hour naps which usually make me nocturnal, I was ANGRY. Extremely angry. Pounding-my-fists-into-pillows-and-kicking-all-the-shit-on-my-floor angry. My brain felt like a painful numb dead weight, and the most hopeless, loneliest feeling imaginable swept over me, either emptiness or hate for everyone and everything. My entire body ached, I wanted to hurt myself and everyone I know, and I felt extremely nauseated. The weird thing is, it felt like this is how I had always felt and would always feel, and nothing would ever get better. Pure unfiltered hopelessness. I still can't get over it. This is some weird Holden Caulfield shit. Bye bye sanity?

Day 24 - Something that makes you sad when you think about it.

The end of the Futurama episode Jurassic Bark


and my own half-baked plans...they're rather worrisome. I said something positively libertine last night, now I wonder if damage control is needed. No, I think I'll just stick by it. Defeat awkwardness with maximum ridiculosity? 

Day 23 - A moment you felt the most satisfied with your life.

There's usually no particular precedent or reason for times when I feel satisfied. Sometimes things just come into place and life feels right, cozy. Take earlier tonight - I randomly decided to go for a walk in the 25 degree weather, and everything just felt serene. I wrote random illegible messages in the snow, which shone from the distant lights, then wound up in Collegetown where a British-Jewish (complete with beard and Jew-hat) man gave me a free menorah and candles, and we discussed his beliefs and general religion/spirituality for about half an hour. This is always good for me, because I've caught myself becoming increasingly closed-minded when it comes to religious people, not necessarily dismissive, but I feel like I've been a victim of zealotry and bigotry a few times in my life and that has negatively reinforced my idea that being religious must mean being limited in thinking in some way. Really, though, an open-minded person is an open-minded person regardless of beliefs. It's just a different way of thinking. Spirituality is fascinating.
Anyway, back to the topic - I think the time I was most satisfied with my life was once at home when I had been reading, then slept for 12 hours, had fantastic magical dreams I didn't remember, and just loved being alive.

Edit: May it also be noted that immediately after the encounter with the Jewish man I ran into a random very drunk guy who unblinkingly creepily stared at me, so I smiled and said "hi" and he slurredly responded either with "good whore" or "great menorah" then ran off. I'm gonna assume the latter.

Day 22 - How have you changed in the past 2 years?

No notable internal changes, but it's impossible to determine if I am the same person at all. I don't even know if I'm the same person I was when I started writing this - one of my musings: souls or brainwaves or whatever just float from one person to another constantly, and reality, or the perception of it, changes accordingly brought about by the idea that the world around me seems much more dynamic than I am, and things can too easily be perceived in different ways (this might mean that I am actually a volatile person, and have developed a celestial sphere for the surrounding world wherein I'm not the one who's orbiting, everything else is). Anyway, changes I have noticed (but which might not have been there seconds ago):

I'm much more nonchalant about life

I've convinced myself to develop anti-relationship/attachment paradigms in order to deal with continuous feelings of rejection

I've discovered a bit about life on one's own and being independent/the joy of doing things for the hell of it

I've gone through a huge trip hop phase

Tunnels

My newest introspection: the amazing power of detachment. It surrounds me. I exude it. I have the power to be completely invisible, at the price of all the inconveniences which come with that power. Everyone deserves at least a little spotlight. Within me is a complex tunnel system through which very little can escape, coupled with a dampener which further conceals my identity, revealing only the slightest hint of what's on my mind. Assassin for hire, anyone? Yet the entire time, I feel like I'm yelling into a megaphone; I'm sloppy. I leave too much evidence behind. Nobody notices? Or nobody cares. It seems to be the less-desirable trait, but I feel normal as long as I'm not one of those people who OVEREMPHASIZE. EVERY. LITTLE. INSIGNIFICANT. THING.

imagine hurt, imagine tears, she opened up until she disappeared, vanished hand in hand with all the long-lost children locked in Neverland

Day 21 - Post a picture of yourself in your natural state.

I think I generally look a bit like this (at 3AM, when possibly hopped up on caffeine)

 and am prone to partaking in activities like this

...found these pictures on my phone and thought the Internet could use more juvenile door art.

A Movie Review (Enter The Void)

I've already professed my love of Gaspar Noé's works on my blog, as he's an excellent writer/director/cinematographer. That being said, I watched his latest movie Enter the Void last night, and I didn't like it. It just didn't do anything for me, and I felt (and my friend agreed) it lacked several important aspects: editing, character development, storyline. It seemed like the perfect movie to begin watching at 1AM, dark and possibly edgy (Tibetan Book of the Dead ooooh). Instead, I was overloaded with two hours of first-person spirit floating over Tokyo, camera effects which were very interesting the first 100 times they were used, and an overabundance of Japanese hookers having sex with businessmen. The dialog lacked the depth and thought-provoking aspects I've come to expect of his films, and any new scene was preceded by endless flashbacks of things which had already happened (and, again, were interesting the first time they were seen, but had lost all their effect by the 50th). I suppose this may have been purposeful - to exemplify the release of one life so that a person may move on to the next, but it somehow cheapened the movie, which, at its core, became a repetitive emotionless drag.

Trailer

Plot summary {Warning: Spoilers}:


Drugs. Sister. Dead. Drugs. Floating over Tokyo. Bright lights and vagina-like tunnels. Body-less soul, must find body. Floating. Drugs. Sister. Floating. Drugs. Sister. Float. A tunnel. Is it a vagina? No, it's a light bulb. Float over Tokyo some more. Reminisce about parents and sister. Drugs. Ooh, another tunnel. Vagina? Nope, aborted fetus. More tunnels, more floating, Japanese hookers, tunnel! But it's just a stove. Drugs. Sister and druggie friend who she dislikes are having sex. Tunnel! Inside of sister's vagina! Rebirth.


That's the basic premise, except there's a lot more floating over Tokyo. And more Japanese hookers. It didn't really do anything for me.

Day 20 - A drunken story.

One of the things I love most about college is how people take care of each other, lest someone gets a little carried away at a party. On one such occurrence, boxed Franzia took my fancy a bit too much after an eternity of nothing but Keystone, and I wound up throwing up in the bushes outside a frat, not really knowing what was going on, right beside the security guards, where I kept accidentally deleting my friends' phone numbers instead of calling them. Two girls who lived in my hall who, at the time, I barely knew luckily happened to pass by and drove me back to the dorm, escorted me to my room, and made sure I was safely in bed, all while graciously accepting my slurred apologies. One of them was later fittingly dubbed "mom" for her amazing maternal instincts and care for the rest of the hall. This isn't really the story I wanted to tell..nothing very interesting happened. It was just the drunkest I'd ever been (and will ever be). This one's better:

We were at a frat party (where else?), and one of our friends (let's call him Lyle) was invited into the great beyond, that is, upstairs, where only brothers and those special individuals approved by brothers could go. After some time, most people had left, so my other friend (let's call him Johnny) and I tracked him down to go back home. We found him in a strange state, which resulted in the longest (and the best!) walk home ever. Here's a recount of the events as I remember them:

As we exited the frat house, Lyle started frantically running away from us and we gave chase, but he was surprisingly fast and nimble.
As suddenly as he'd sped off, he halted and sat on the ground, playfully rolling around in the cool wet grass in front of the frat house.
Johnny's phone rang, and he left Lyle in his blissful delirium as he took a call from a friend back home. For the duration of the call, Lyle was gently humping Johnny's leg and laughing like a giddy goat might if goats laughed.
Eventually, it was time to go home, "Let's go home, Lyle!" we exclaimed! But Lyle screamed "Nooooooo!" and rocketed off again. Like the good shepherds we are, we managed to lure him partway up the slope until he became cognizant of our evil plan and quickly changed direction. I gave chase and, being desperate and quite drunk myself, tackled him. We toppled to the ground and started giggling.
At the rate we were going (we'd probably made 100 feet of headway in 30 minutes), we weren't going to get home anytime soon, so Johnny came up with an ingenious idea. "Hey, Lyle!" he said, "Let's go to that truck that sells delicious greasy food which always tastes 1000 times better when you're drunk! My treat!" This truck happens to be right outside our dorm, and Lyle once again changed course, finally in the right direction.
We got to the truck, as promised, and he ordered three burgers, fries, etc, etc (for himself).
Finally, with food, we were back at the dorm. Lyle took one bite of his burger and disappeared into the male bathroom. After he had been gone for 15 minutes, Johnny went to check up on him, and informed me that he had fallen asleep with his head on the toilet bowl.
I think we left him there. Close enough.

Day 19 - Disrespecting your parents.

I don't like to disrespect my parents since they're genuinely decent people for the most part, but sometimes it's unavoidable. I remember when my parents seemed like perfect infallible sagacious sources of authority. I'm glad that illusion is over, but I sometimes miss the security of having it. But I am extremely grateful to finally have the age-given freedom to make my own decisions in life, and once I make up my mind about something, I do not appreciate it when someone messes with my plans (but what else are parents to do), and on such occasions I can become fairly...disrespectful. Several such disagreements: 1) The first one I remember: I had been playing Final Fantasy VIII for several hours, and my dad had been pestering me to stop. I kept telling him I just needed to get to a save point. I was on the second disk, right before the big fight with Edea on Galbadia Garden...Finally, there it was. I was seconds away when out of nowhere he completely unplugged my PlayStation and hid it in storage! Didn't even bother to turn it off! That can cause serious damage, dammit! Fuming rage and tears ensued. I remember my mom asked me if I was crying because I made my dad angry or because of my PlayStation. "PlayStation!", I replied honestly. I waited until he went to work, took back my console, plugged it in and kept playing in a daring act of disobedience, but I couldn't even enjoy the game because I was still mad. A similar tantrum occurred when they made me miss the beginning of an 8-hour long Star Trek TNG marathon. 2) My mom is not always the tactful type, and doesn't seem to understand my disdain for comments like "Oh, you're going to go out in public looking like that?" on any occasion I don't happen to be wearing makeup, or how she never misses an opportunity to point out a pimple, or the size of my ass (luckily no pimples the size of my ass have been spotted. Double threat avoided!). Anyway, I have imperfections, so does everyone else. I know they're there! I've seen them! Why does it matter so much? That's the basic extent of our arguments (although there do seem to be a lot). So, basically, I respect my parents to the extent that their actions do not interfere with what I want for myself, and I think that's fair, because otherwise parents will always try to overextend their grasp on a child's life, and that can be very stifling.