If You’re Easily Offended Then Don’t Read This

*This is something I wrote weeks ago. It’s just a rant. I want to know if there is anyone else out there that feels the way I do*

Alright so there’s something I have to get off my chest. What is with this generation (my own and younger)? Do these club hopping, bar crawling, hook up fanatics have no self respect anymore?  It seriously pisses me off. I just don’t get it. They have no concept of what a decent relationship is. It’s as if immaturity is fashionable. I’m all for having a good time and hanging out with friends, but is getting shit faced, hooking up with random people, and not remembering it the next day really that fucking amazing? Maybe I’m just not a fun person, and I know I’m nowhere near society’s idea of good looking, but I’m not writing this because I’m jealous of those mental midgets. I’m writing this because I’m pissed the fuck off. Why? Because I was in a relationship of almost a year with one of them. This fucking girl lied to me, took advantage of me, wanted to always get drunk, go to bars, clubs, talk to whoever the fuck she wanted to no matter how uncomfortable I got with it (no, before you go on a rage about me being controlling, I wasn’t. What made me uncomfortable about it was that she would fucking lie right to my face about it, and make up bullshit stories that she knew I just wanted to hear). I get that you want to live your life (YOLO right? no, jump off a cliff), but if you’re in a relationship you HAVE to consider the other person’s feelings.  There’s no fucking one way. I mean, there is, but do you know what that’s called? Fucking single life. Stay single if that’s how you want to live, or find someone who feels the same way you do. Don’t be with someone who is willing to give you that respect without giving it back. It fucks a person up; I know, I’ve been there… I’m still there.

This is something I’ve kept deep down inside for a long time and I’m sick of it festering in my mind. I’ve been hurt, lied to, betrayed, destroyed, rebuilt, and destroyed again. Guess what? I’m getting real fucking used to it. Do I regret that relationship? No, not entirely. I regret not leaving sooner and allowing my mental state of being to be shattered and creating my own suicidal thoughts, but I don’t regret it because I’ve learned exactly what the fuck I don’t want in a partner, or in any friend in general. I want honesty; don’t fucking lie to me and make up bullshit excuses. I want intelligence; if you’re just into getting fucked up then please keep walking. I despise this bar/club/hookup culture; if that’s what you’re into then please stand 100 yards away from me because you’re wasting my oxygen. You know what else? If you don’t like this then fuck you. I hope that bitch ex of mine is happy. She gave up a chance with a guy who really cared about her, who would do anything for her, all because she wanted to go out and do whatever she wanted. But guess what? Her loss, my fucking gain. I hope she’s happy burying herself in the attention of other guys. Good for her. I don’t believe in Karma, but good luck finding someone who was offering what I was willing to give in a club or at the bottom of a glass. She’s not my nightmare anymore.

In conclusion; this human species of ours seems to be going to hell in a hand basket. I’m definitely not the praying type, but if I had one wish, it would probably be for an alien race to come down and wipe us out with one quick sweep. This would allow some other species to evolve and perhaps take over, and take care of this beautiful little planet that we certainly don’t deserve. Am I bitter because of what happened to me? Yeah, I won’t lie and say I’m not. But I’m more angry because I allowed myself to be fooled, and led to believe that how I felt was respected. Nobody these days seems to understand the ancient idea of fucking respect. Have respect for yourself; have respect for your partner, your friends, and your family. If you don’t then you’re a burden on the society and need to be excommunicated from the rest the evolved world. And again, if you don’t like this, then fuck you.

The Night Winter Came Too Soon

                “The time is almost here again,” Steve said to his brother Jack.

                “Please don’t remind me Steve—the very thought of it just depresses me.” Jack replied

                Silence fell on the two for what seemed like an eternity but only lasted minutes.

                “Do you think it will ever end? I mean, we never get enough time to do anything,” Jack muttered letting out a sigh. “We can do so much more if we only had the time!” He burst out.

                “Calm down, Jack, you know this is how the cycle goes. Our time is simply… up. There is nothing you or I or anyone can do. All we can do –“

                “Stop with the “all we can do” bullshit!” Jack snapped back interrupting him “It’s just not fair! We come into this life with a purpose and it’s just not fair that we get no time to find out what that purpose is!”

                The breeze blew on, over and around Jack. It moved him both physically and emotionally, calming him down in a way that Steve never could. Steve looked at him hopelessly, torn because he couldn’t give his brother the solace he deserved.

                He’s right though; there really is nothing fair about it, Steve thought. But there simply is nothing we can do about it.

                “It’s just… not… fair,” Jack continued softly while his worries started to exhaust him.

                “Brother I know how you feel, I really do. What you are failing to see though is that we do have purpose. Perhaps we have the most important purpose in the world. We give life brother can’t you see it! This world would be nothing without us!” Steve exclaimed, shouting in the hope of breaking him from his chains of depression. Jack took a deep breath and a wave of comfort washed over him.

                He sighed and turned to his savior, “Steve I don’t know where I would be without you,” he said softly, trembling with an echo of relief in his voice.

                “The same goes for you, Jack”

                As the days went by the nights grew colder. The two brothers sat every evening talking about their meaning in life because as short as their lives were they perhaps had the best meaning of all. Steven was the first to fall to the blistering cold. Alone and shaking against the wind Jack reminisced about the few months he had with his kin. Steve could always make him see the silver lining to any situation.

                Just this once, Jack thought, it was unfair to others that I had such an inspiring individual to call my brother.

                Only days later Jack joined Steve in true eternal silence as he too fell to the cold. Two lives worth living. Two leaves fallen from a tree on the night winter came too soon.

Journal #1 (Need for Creativity)

Dec 29^th 2013 @ 12:00pm

As I sit here in Applebees, awaiting my order of healthy fried and seasoned French fries, I cannot seem to imagine anything creative to write in my new journal. This is unfortunate because I spent 5 dollars on this new-fangled 100% recycled journal, with the sole intention of ripping it open, stabbing it with some fancy pen work, and writing something profound. So here I am, with less than amusing grammar and vocabulary, and nothing profound to think of. Perhaps that is my issue—I always expect to write something profound and therefore never do so. What should I write? Why should I write? What should a write about why I should write? Why should I write about what I should write? Another French fry, another sip from my beer and still nothing to think of. I almost feel like writing something with a “Bill Hicks” style but that would be unoriginal. You see, when I develop a new passion my life seems to encompass everything within it. My writing begins to change, my thoughts begin to warp, and I feel like a completely different person. I don’t FEEL original. I feel like a copy. I know I’m not alone—7 billion people in the world and someone else has to feel like this. My French fries are getting cold, which is upsetting, but my second beer has arrived, which makes me happy, so I’m back to where I started, with nothing to write.

As I wait for my third beer and my new order of Potato Twisters I am listening in on the conversation of a table next to me. They are talking about getting married in a church. Why in a church? There are much more beautiful places to get married. If I were to get married it would have to be outside, perhaps in a garden. A forest would be nice though; two individuals, madly in love, “sealing” their pledge to one another in one of the most natural spots on earth. Abundant wild life around to witness a union between two evolved beings through love—the most powerful emotion of all. My girlfriend and I often have conversations about marriage. She thinks that I don’t believe in it all. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. I do in fact enjoy the idea of devoting myself to someone for the remainder of my short life, but the part I despise is the government interjection through marriage. There is no reason the government should be involved in my personal marriage. Maybe a new breed of marriage will be formed where we can devote ourselves to each other without the government getting their greedy snoopy little feet in the way.

1:20 pm

I’m on my forth beer now and I just polished off an order of Potato Twisters. Still nothing creative has come through. What should I eat next? I’m feeling mozzarella sticks. Why not right? My hand writing is getting harder to read though. But I’m determined to think of something to write. As I ponder my own creativity I am witnessing a family two tables ahead of me. A husband and wife approximately in their 30s with a daughter who cannot be older than 4 years old. The daughter, cute with a blond pigtail, is very talkative and inquisitive. Apparently the mother and father are not having any of it as they just gave her an iPad with headphones. This is sickening and cannot be considered less than child abuse. What is happening to this girl’s imagination? The iPad is doing the thinking for her. The TVs do our imagining for us. just looking around the room I see fucking zombies, staring blatantly into the big televisions while shoveling food into their mouths. This poor girl is not given the chance to imagine. How so? The parents could easily participate in the creation of this girl’s imagination through simply coloring with her. My mother always used to color with me in restaurants. She would always ask for two children’s menus. We would wait for our food and color together. Coloring would put me into another world. A world where mazes meant life and death (they really didn’t I just liked to imagine they did) and I could paint a Triceratops pink if I wanted too. On the fifth beer now. This is what parenting is all about. Our minds are high jacked by public/private education from kindergarten to 12^th grade. We are told what to think, how to think, how to criticize what we think. Education is not always bad, but it is the job of the parents to stimulate our imaginations, instead of shutting us up with devices because they want some peace and quiet. My mother and father were, and continue to be, incredible parents whom I wouldn’t trade for the world.

2:00pm

                So I am five beers in and I have eaten an order of fries, Potato Twisters, and boneless wings and nothing creative has come to mind. I am now drinking Pepsi to try and get rid of my hiccups and my head is beginning to hurt. Dessert time! Brownie bite with vanilla ice cream–be back in min! Alright well that was delicious. it is now hard to see straight and my head is beginning to hurt so I am going to down some water and hope I can sober up a bit. I still have no idea what to write. I have always been interested in how my sub-conscience would change during different mind sets. I would like to create a tank where you fill it with water, lay naked in it with your eyes and ears covered, and just float. This is said to create some type of sensory deprivation that might lead to an “Enlightened” state of mind. Maybe that is what we need—a view of the world from “above”, a view from an enlightened stance. We are so consumed by today’s media that we forget to think for ourselves. We have grown and aged and now our TVs do the thinking for us. We are told what to buy, who is good, who is bad, what/who to stay away from, what/who to put our trust in. it is becoming even harder to tell what is real and what a lie is. As I look around this restaurant I see only individuals who wish to live their lives in the happiest ways, not realizing they have become slaves to the very life in which they live. I can only hope to give people some type of enjoyment while I’m alive. If I can make someone thinking about their life, and perhaps give them a different perspective of the world, than I have done my job. But until then journal, I am destined to wander, in search of something creative to write. Live long and PROSPER!!!

Dec 29^th 2013 @ 2:30pm

Share something

Work, consume, work, consume, and buy this coffee so you will stay productive. Pay these bills so we don’t take your heat away. Pay THESE bills so the food in your refrigerator won’t go bad. Your family does NOT have to freeze at night in total darkness but you just have to PAY THE BILL. Buy this Smartphone because its screen is an inch bigger than the last model. Trade in your perfectly good car for this new one because it has Bluetooth, satellite radio, 13 cup holders, and heats your seat while scratching your balls at the same time!!! I NEEEEEED this $195 handbag because my wallet, pencils, receipts, change, tampons, nail clippers, Tylenol, and pepper spray must travel in style! Buy this soda because Beyonce drinks it. Use this cologne because Bieber’s face is on it! Wear this scarf because it compliments your coffee cup, but don’t forget to post a picture on Instagram titled “Pumpkin-Mocha-Latte with my bestie! #Notmainstream#justhipthings#shoppers4lyfe”—you cannot beat free marketing. We are slaves to consumerism and if you don’t think so just take a trip to any shopping center during the holiday season.

We all have IVs attached to ourselves with a drip bag containing a special liquid. This special liquid is our own self-consciousness; the need to “fit in”, the need to be up-to-date with fads, the overwhelming feeling of possible excommunication from society if we don’t wear what the stars wear, drink what the stars drink, think the way the stars think. What about creating and sharing? You’ve created a song that moves you deeply, touches your heart, and believe it will bring us all together, but you won’t share it unless the people you wish to unite pay you for it? Then you are no better than the capitalist scumfucks that are running the country to begin with. Create and share something today. 

It’s Just a Ride

I may have only JUST discovered Bill Hicks but my life has been forever changed by him. We often worry so much about trivial matters that we forget that life is just as the video states; a ride.

Let’s Go Hunting

So almost every Saturday morning when I leave for work I would see a gathering of older gentleman near a wooded area by my house. 7:00am and they are fitting on their camouflage clothing, orange vest and/or hats and loading their rifles. Okay, now I understand that hunting can be argued as “part of human heritage” being that we used it to evolve to where are now, but if you think that this is the same kind of hunting that our ancestors lived by then you are living in a delusion. Perhaps they are doing it because they need to feel manly and shooting a deer from a safe distance with a piece of lead traveling well over 600 mph–so fast the deer cannot even see it coming—puts more hair on their chest. Some of these men not only have rifles but hand guns as well… a bit excessive? Is the handgun there JUST IN CASE you run out of bullets in your rifle and Bambi decides to return fire? Maybe I don’t understand it because I have never been hunting before. I have yet to experience the insane rush of loading an un-expecting animal with lead from high-up in a tree yards away. A few of the guys bring their young children, kids who can’t be older than 15, who are equipped with compound bows with scopes on them… compound bows… with a scope on them. You are not Katniss Everdeen. Using a compound bow and scope does not bring you closer to your hunting ancestors than a rifle. If you are hunting to feel closer to our ancient roots then I fully support it but do it right. Go out in the woods with nothing but the bare essentials. Carve a knife out of a branch, make a bow and arrow out of things found in the woods, and sit and wait for something to turn up, chase it down, throw a spear, and kill it with your bare hands. At least give the animal a fighting chance. I’m sure you’ll feel much manlier taking that picture with an animal you killed with your bare hands, rather than with a rifle where the only downside to the picture is slight blood spatter on your favorite orange vest. 

Recent Introspection of my Cluttered Mind

Recent Introspection of my Cluttered Mind

                    It seems that, because of my blasphemy towards a deity, the deity in question decided this evening to punish me by taking down my internet, preventing me from playing an online game to my own satisfaction. Powerful one isn’t he? I’ve decided to write a blog instead, to make up for time while my internet sorts its self out, or while the deity plans his next sabotagery; perhaps hide one sock so I may not complete a pair? You evil man you. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently with my father slowly recovering from a long battle against his own body, my feelings towards my own incompetence in regards to my knowledge on politics, and my amplified hatred for religion. Where should we start?

August 10^th 2012 will mark one year since my father has been ill. It feels like only yesterday that I got the call that he was in the emergency room. My deep feelings of despondency still feel just as real to me as they did on the first day. The first 3 weeks of his illness, my already futile life seemed even more aimless; I just wanted to see my father’s smile one more time. The day when the doctors told me that he’s going to be okay and seeing his eyes open after a three-week coma, I had a feeling of enlightenment that could only be described as divine. It was a long and hard recovery for months after his discharge. With him in and out of hospitals with complications, moans of agony, and seeing him struggle to overcome his gamble with death, gave rise to many sleepless nights and bouts of severe depression. After his most recent surgery, it looks like it may be over with. He’s on his way to a full recovery, and only having to watch what he eats, which is a fine trade for beating his disease.

People handle these devastating catastrophes differently. My father’s girlfriend, who I care for very much, has taken the religious route after this spine-chilling event. This isn’t a view-point that I share, but it doesn’t change how I feel about this wonderful woman who makes my father very happy; his happiness is all that matters. I prefer to take the opposite direction, asking the question, “Why would a loving creator, who cares so deeply about me, attempt, unsuccessfully at that, to take my dear father away from me?” If it was, as some would say, to challenge my faith, than I can only assume that he is a twisted sadomasochistic individual. I personally choose not to believe that God decided to spare my father, because why would he put him in the situation in the first place. It seems to me that science and hundreds of years of human achievement in medicine are what truly saved my father. Thank you.

With the upcoming presidential election, I can only ask myself one question; which political party truly cares about my interest. My father is always watching the news, particularly MSNBC, and is always trying to teach me something about what’s going on in the world of politics. When I meet someone who has a particular view towards politics, I feel handicapped when it comes to debating with them. I do wish to learn more about this subject, so I may discover where my beliefs truly fall. However, I know for sure that I do not want a Mor(m)on in the white house. I do believe that every president has some sort of financial agenda behind their term. But I hope that I will be able, before the upcoming election, to distinguish which party I accede with.

My hatred and contempt for religion has been heightened quite a bit in the recent months. I have had many sessions of religious discourse that left me even more disgusted than before the conversation. I have been called offensive, rude, and blind; the first two I agree with and encourage, as they are my rights and duty in the face of bogus prospectuses and false promises. Being offended does not merit silence on the offensive subject. I have been told to keep my thoughts/feelings towards sensitive subjects to myself, which galvanized even more proselytizing of my message; religion gets no special treatment. In every debate I seem to get into, the topic of prayer always comes up. Individuals constantly say that I just have to pray, have faith, and all the evidence I need will become conspicuous. The mere fact that a person believes that their prayers will be answered (they are usually prayers about financial troubles, occupational promotions, or even saving a loved one) by their deity, shows what kind of atrocious and heinous person their God is. Why would a deity care so much about your state of living, when there are millions of children starving, diseased, and sentenced to their own deaths before the age of 6 in this world. What makes you more important than them? Religion makes normally moral people do awful and wicked things. What makes a person believe that the genital mutilation of a perfectly innocent newborn is what a loving and caring God would want? It is alarming to know that 41% of the population of this country actually believes in the story of Adam and Eve. So it is my mission to speak out against religious ignorance whenever I see it infesting itself into daily events. Religion is my enemy, as I am its.

*If you find any grammatical errors, please let me know so I may fix them, I’m not aiming for perfect college easy format.*

Real Men Cry Too

            So today my girlfriend Katie and I went to the movies to see “Extraordinarily Loud and Incredibly Close”, and next to it being a very good movie, it was one of the most emotional days I’ve had in a few months. For those who haven’t seen it it’s about a boy who loses his father in the terrorist attacks of 9/11. Throughout the movie the boy is trying to solve a puzzle that the father has given him. It’s hard to explain so I suggest going to see it.

            But let’s move on to the point of this essay. Katie wanted to see this movie because she lost a loved one in that historical event. It was hard to watch her sit through the movie, but at least I was there to comfort her. Now I couldn’t begin to imagine the pain she went through of losing a loved one, but this movie did effect me in my own way. Although I did not know any victims in those attacks, I think it is safe to say that I cried more than she did; hiding it from her of course.

            In August I got the news that my father was in the hospital. Thousands of thoughts ran through my mind; the worst ones taking over in the end. A few weeks went by and progress was neutral. Although I stayed positive, I couldn’t help but thinking what my life would be like if I lost him. He eventually got better and now is on his way to a full recovery. Although he is better, I still think every day about it and it has affected me deeply.

            I don’t think this movie helped with that because the young boy loses his father. Throughout the whole movie I thought about my own father, about how much he means to me and how life would be unlivable without him. Some days are worse than others. Sometimes when I engage in activities that we used to do together, I think about what it would be like if the worst did happen, and it really upsets me. I feel tears build up as I write this simple article, and it makes the pain that much more real.

            My dad is my idol; he is the man I’ve always looked up to. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about how close to came to having my world come crashing down on me. It’s a fact of life that we will lose our loved ones, whether we see it coming or not. We need to cherish everyday with those who we love, because you never know what tomorrow will hold. I love you so much dad, I hope you know that.