Prolifico

a little beat up

In academia, there is nothing worse than having something you are extremely proud of receive a grade that is way below your expectations. I mean, I’m not trying to draw out the empathy-sympathy parade, but goddamn.

Those grades are knives sometimes. Logical knives. I mean, I’m not paying them to be mentally stabbed in my spleen. But I am. Their knives…make me smarter…

Ehh this isn’t a real problem, and I dislike complaining, but it is theraputic. Life is life.

6182

Okay hey. Everyone. I’ve come back from spring break, and I’ve forgotten how to use proper punctuation. It has to do with my lack of speaking. I really didn’t speak that much. I didn’t do that much. I didn’t see that much. I heard a lot. I thought a lot. I played a lot. I guess playing counts as doing, but doing over “break” usually means “going” somewhere. The only destination I traveled to was the fantastic world provided by playstation 2, and BBC noticias en espanol. So it translates into a lot of periods. Which I know how to use, but everything else is sort of weak right now.

So I’m up without the aid of my alarm clock. Why? It’s because my best friend, our sun, Mr. Sol, has decided to come pouring through my window, blinds closed and all. It’s really a fantastic thing. If it was like this for the entire year, 8:00 am classes would be a fucking cinch. However, we are going to kill Mr. Sol with a thing known as Daylight Saving Time. Instead of pouring through my window at 6:50 am, he will be pouring through at 7:50, and my alarm will have to be my waking buddy.

That’s sad really. I and I cherish the time spend with Mr. Sol in the mornings. He’s so warm, and yellow and beautiful day inducing. I can’t make eye contact him with him very often, so I bet he thinks I’m shy. But in reality, I’d love to look at him. I’d love to get close to him, feel his gravitational potential energy a little bit more, but with my crazy skin, I’d think he take all of my desperately needed moisture.

I fear that I’m typing too loud and am waking up my roommate. But it’s a laptop, and it’s better than a real keyboard. That would be annoying, teehee. teehee.

As the day wears on. Mr. Sol’s effect ceases to work on me, and I get tired. Mr. Sol cannot keep me awake, and neither can my job. So I close my eyes, and return to the darkness. It’s dangerous when I do this during important things, like work, or Physics, the afternoon things. This is reason enough for the invention and proctored use of caffeine. Mmm. My second friend. My fuel. My lover. Without him, and I admit, I sometimes go hours without him, I would be out on the street, babbling about linear momentum, and how all of mankind’s problems are caused by our irregular calendar, and we should free ourselves from the restraint of our Gregorian shackles, or some barmy bullshit. Hey you know what if I threw out all of my watches, made sure my computers never showed me the time, and avoided clocks? Life would be a comedy.

random colleague: “What time should we meet up?” “Hey man, what time should we meet up to finish the project?”
Me (spacing): “What? Oh, sorry I don’t do time anymore”
Me: “You know, I’ve been wondering, what the fuck are you supposed to with bic pencils when their erasers become unremovable? They’re supposed to be fucking machines man, mechanical man. They don’t die, like us. That’s fucking sad.”
r.c. : “what. the. fuck. are you joking?”
Me: “Like…*sigh* *bursts into tears for the pencils*”

Shit like that. I could write a textbook on the consequences of not having spacetime. No, actually I reallly couldn’t.

When night comes, and Dr. Luna comes to do his thing, it’s also equally as beautiful. I can look at him because he doesn’t hurt me whenever I do. I admire his beauty, and consider changing my major to something that would let me study him a lot more. He does some interesting things like change his clothes. Some days he wears his crescent. Either waning or waxing, he has his weeks. Other times, it’s his gibbous. He looks fat then though. And sometimes. He is half, and full/new. So hot. Yet. cold? Sometimes he and Mr. Sol share the sky, and deep down inside, I know that I love life. and I love the universe, and I want to know everything that’s possible to know about it while I’m still here. School isn’t…telling me the answers I want though.

reality

Okay, so I totally got smacked in the face by reality this week. Moral of the story is, don’t trust the universe as I have in my previous couple of entries.

I wrote this really inspirational paper about the Japanese way of life. Is that not entertaining? Being inspired by your very own words?
Well in general, the Japanese reward hard work much more than they reward natural talent. They truly believe that with enough hard work, anyone can do anything. So instead of floating around in space pondering our existence, I will devote myself a lot more to my studies, like a good little science student. It’s not enough to be so divided at this point in my life. I need to excel!

in sens it ive in con sid er ate

“Hurrrry uppp”

I hated those words. Those were the words that sometimes almost made me cry when I trekked the 20 minutes across campus to visit her. After a while I kind of expected to hear them, but when I heard them, they hurt. How could she tell me to hurry up and get through the door because it’s cold outside/I’m moving too slow, after I had come in inclimate conditions, in dangerous conditions, after having a much more strenuous day, being ill, being normal. I’ll tell you how, in infinitive form. TO BE INCONSIDERATE. The me visiting her/her visiting me ratio ended up something like 350:1 that semester. Still those evil inconsiderate words. After letting her know about it, it still happened.

So I guess it’s a character flaw, the kind that you overlook and hide the pain it causes until when you look back at it in a few months, it’s an disgusting creature that can ruin the brightest of days. Humans are complex, and simple things increase our complexity.

Pick your words carefully idiots!

adrenaline

With the acceptance of time as “real”, concepts such as the past, and even the future can exist.
What I like about that is that we can’t predict the future. Life is so good, peoples. The good and and the bad, it’s all one amorphous fantastic device of yum.

That said, my brother got into a car accident. He called me to tell me. That’s so beautiful, it made me feel like a big loving brother. It complicates the future, but it’s part of this wonderful life.

I’m high on being happy, I feel so hippieish. I dislike hippies.

nothing is wrong

My favorite thing about walking outside is when the wind attacks just a tiny part of your eye, and then you start to cry. It’s quite amusing to be wiping tears from my face so that the tears don’t freeze to my face. It makes me respect mother nature just a little bit more.

It’s late.