2012年5月7日 I still DGAF

This morning I was browsing around the internet after looking at an old post I made. Browsing the internet after looking at older stuff on the internet is kind of like going to a mall. Somehow you saw something you didn't intend to see (such as a new website), but you're going to look at it and stare anyhow. Well, the thing I discovered was In Over Your Head's, Complete Guide to Not Giving a Fuck

Here: http://inoveryourhead.net/the-complete-guide-to-not-giving-a-fuck/

I am happy I found that, especially after rereading something I posted awhile ago. Even though I think it's incomplete for not referring to Fight Club.

But just bullshitting about finding stuff on the internet isn't why I'm posting.

I personally don't give a fuck about people who are not my friend and have no power over me than what I gave to them in the first place. 

Go ahead, suck life from yourself.
You still wouldn't give a fuck.

One of my favorite sayings to my friends or associates regarding people they don't like is that, "They don't live with you, so who gives a fuck?" Honestly one should always be concerned with who one lives with. Why? Because why should you live with someone who sucks life from you? Or why should anyone live with you if you suck the life from them? Why should you live with yourself, in your current capacity, if you suck life from yourself?

These problems err... questions, pop up from my life and its uncertainty, and sometimes certainty. I would honestly say one of the biggest fears most, if not all people have, is uncertainty. Uncertainty scares the fuck outta us, when really most of us should or may want to consider learning not to give a fuck. 

Uncertainty also tells us to stay miserable instead of going out into the wilderness. I think that's also the reason I'm skeptical of women's intentions after I express that life is full of uncertainty. Usually this frightens them! But why?

Why does uncertainty frighten a person in a deep relationship? I suppose it's because some of us have a fear of the unknown, but to actually know something you have to advance into the unknown. A great example of this would be to conduct a voyage or getting being lost in the wilderness. Without actually being in the unknown you are unable to expand upon what is known. 

Of course in today's society we trick ourselves into believing we can learn the unknown from the safety of our desks or in classrooms. But let's not bullshit ourselves, as there is no substitute for experience. That's for sure.

I don't give a fuck about people who honestly are more concerned about whether or not I'm judging them. As soon as they realize I don't give a fuck, that's when I know I'm being judged harshly. So I end up giving less of a fuck. 

Even more so, I deal with people who honestly don't even want to invest time into anything other than themselves, so frankly speaking, concepts like "up front respect" is only more bullshit to me. My dad, when available, raised me to: 

1) Not give a fuck, unless you decide to, and 

2) Never respect anyone who doesn't earn it. (I underline anyone, because no fucking way I'm going to respect stuff above a person).

Anyone who demands respect from me, neither knows me nor cares about how I feel. Of course the same might be said of me. Once I told someone that I need to not only love them for a healthy relationship, I also need and want to have respect for them. I honestly have no healthy relationships when respect is "expected" of me. Expecting fairness I can understand, but EXPECTING respect is different. Of course, being a guest in one's house, etc., has its own "rules", but if you don't give fuck about those, why bother reading to the end of this paragraph?

Other times like when I meet uncertain people or people who say, "I want to do X, but I can't" I often dismiss their desires or fears immediately, because they've already decided to give up. So it's hard to actually give a fuck, which I almost don't. 

Most of them giving up without actually doing any investigation, or because they avoid fear potentially associated with uncertainty. These people do not like gambling, (recreational games), or competition unless they know they will win. At that point why even bother? The game or exercise itself loses value if the "win" is more important.

The best part about this, is while I'm just scratching the surface, I am so happy to know that I don't need to, have to, or really give a give a fuck about most challenges like that in my life. Uncertainty is a self-feeding demon, kind of like when I get excited off my own excitement. Perpetual. The downside is that uncertainty for the fearful is often a black-hole. Gaping open after two dudes simultaneously pull out thei... You should understand what I'm trying to say at this point.

No one like that lives with me, and my life has a wonderful degree of serenity, because not giving a fuck about uncertainty is the best choice I could make in my life. Uncertainty is another price tag for being alive.

My shift ends so now I have to go outside.

I am Jack's uncertainty

***

Outside was great, since I met up with a girl from shul to bullshit and assess the quality of life. She is close to my age, a year younger. I can tell while we get along we wouldn't get along in the dating sense. I'm sure she likes having someone else to talk with who isn't in their late 35's or old enough to be a father/mother, grandpa/grandma at shul or outside of it. 

I think we're it in terms of people who willingly go to shul around the 18 to 24 and 25 to 30 range. It's kind of sad I guess since more and more people are dying and less and less people even bother with being "Jewish". Eventually kids will celebrate Hanukkah and Christmas and assume God is like Santa. I guess today's American-Jews are giving less of a fuck. Honestly speaking, I still don't give a fuck what they think, I'm not going to make them do anything they don't want to, as they'll end up fucking it up anyway.

On a side note, they might end up fucking themselves up avoiding uncertainty, just like an alcoholic fears  facing the uncertainty of life without booze. Or a man afraid and uncertain of being alone with pain, yet stays in an abusive relationship.

Not giving a fuck is a way to deal with this, or letting go of everything that prevents us from being happy with ourselves without escaping. Sometimes not giving a fuck is a form of escape, or affirmation of taking a stand for oneself? Moral survival? Confronting the escape? Who knows?

No one said not giving a fuck would be easy.

2012年5月2日 "When are you going to cut your hair"

Hurry call "whine-one-one!"

I heard that this morning in my dream before I woke up.

It was what Jabberwocky - read the previous post - said to me when he first saw me in almost 3 years. Of course, 3 years ago, he said the same thing. Every time he looks bothered with how I look, or dress, or whatever. He always brings this up within the first 2 minutes of meeting, or before we do some basic shop-talk. 

I remember once he bitched about how "dorkish" I am for tucking in my shirt. Well, for one "Yes, it could be dorkish looking." But it's also my body, my clothes, and my money. I have a job, my own living quarters (which I pay for with my own money), and my own life. Sure I can choose to share my life with him as a friend, but if he's bothered with how I live, well then too fucking bad. Time to call the waaaaahmbulance. Hurry, dial whine-one-one! So they can remove my foot from asses before someone bleeds out!

I smiled again as my eyes adjusted to the new morning when I realized that I don't have to deal with bullshit like how I look around him. Who cares if I have long hair, a mustache, short hair, jeans and flannel, or khakis and a collar? Is not my own character of greater value? I'm sure some of you are wondering the same thing about whores. I know I am!

Just tryin' to be myself!

Just like you, I have a choice over my own body. It's my body. If I'm not comfortable with who I am with myself, then why the hell would I be comfortable (or even myself) around you?

I think it's important to be who we are with ourselves. When we aren't sure who we are, it's important to meditate or masturbate furiously. Whichever comes first. Haha, get it?

Anyhow, Miriam Woelke at Shearim.blogspot made an interesting post about being accepted in Haredi society from the point of view of an ex-flatmate and her own observations:

The only thing I noticed was that A. was facing severe difficulties of being accepted into haredi society. There were many reasons for it but she still tried as hard as she could. There were times when A. may have got the feeling that she was accepted. At least from time to time.

I, on the other hand, have never felt the desire squeezing myself into something. I neither need acceptance nor acknowledgement because I am simply too individualistic and especially introverted. Doing my thing and not waiting for other Haredim to say that I am so "holy". A Zaddika !

I am not and I don't want to hear all this slogans. I am not a Zaddika and not sooo terribly religious running after the perfect Hechsher, wearing only long sleeves or skirts. In my opinion, being religious consists of many different aspects in life besides the usual Halachot. How you react towards your environment, for instance. "Bejn Adam le'Chavero". Or that you honestly pray and not because the time for Mincha has arrived. That you take religious matters seriously, think and internalize them and not doing, doing, doing without using your brain.

Well that's basically it. Similar frustrations that I have. 

I believe we should think and internalize who we are. Focusing on what we are, instead of clearing our minds of "everything". Our minds are already cleared or saturated enough from all the noise of T.V., daily-life, escapism (through T.V., alcohol, drugs, white people, video-games, etc), and other things. So much so, that sometimes we barely have enough time, if we're that lucky, to find out who we are with ourselves! Of course, you'll definitely have more time to figure yourself out, if you're drinking in a Finnish sauna.

2011年4月12日 Nice game of chess and rain

The down pour has been especially rough here, lately it's just another sign of spring.

It's funny how people complain about rain here, including me at times. We know it rains. We know it's gloom and doom, in terms of lack of actually feeling or seeing the sun. We know this, and yet we still complain. Whose fault really is it? We know that this is how it is here and yet we once again do nothing, other than remain in our situation and complain. Some of us are brave, stupid, or clever enough to know whether or not if this kind of living is healthy for us or not.

I have often wondered those things when I am looking at the rain or am caught within it. It's when I also see the angry, and devastated looks on people's faces. I wonder if they realize that this is where they want to be? Something let them stay, or something brought them here. Do they know they can leave anytime? Sure it's not easy - nothing worth doing usually is, but do they really understand that's how it is here? Do they really understand it's a choice to stay or to go? Do they understand that the rain has a flip-side to it? Do they believe that sunshine all day will cure them of this dark and gloomy weather we have periodically throughout the year? Do they sweat hard so they don't have tears to cry? Do they understand that the sun on their shoulders everyday could whither their skin, brain or soul? Do they? Do I? Yes. I believe I do. I believe.

If she doesn't like the rain, she
can always leave whenever she wants!

A girl in my class from California gripes about the rain often and how blah blah blah "In Oregon there isn't much to do..." blah blah blah. I always look at her like she suffers from mild-retardation, mainly because I have told her to leave if she doesn't like it. I shit you not, she said, "This is my third school." Which translates to, "I'm not moving anymore" or "My parents won't let me." As far as I'm aware of she's only been going to college for about a 1.5 years. I almost choked at the ridiculousness of her commentary. She'll never be happy or content with herself, and because of that she blames other things for not accommodating her. I almost wanted to ask her if she was excessively spoiled as a child, but I had a feeling I knew the answer to that already. It doesn't surprise me that we have never gotten along. But amazingly, I have no personal issues or complaints about her. I only have general issues with her behavior towards me, and those things are broad and sweeping ones.

My problem with the rain isn't only that I'm cold and miserable. I don't need rain for that. My problem is mainly with my knee, because the knee will do what it wants either in good weather and bad. Sometimes it's hard to overcome the physical pain when I can't even walk, sit, or ride in a car without a constant burning. But I digress somewhat.

Rain is here. Clouds are here. Sometimes we enjoy the rain because it reminds us of life. A lot of other people find the rain to be a depressant. Frankly speaking, if we don't like how things are, we with ourselves are personally accountable for the decisions to stay, go, or to look outside and trust that the rain may not come today. Everyday I wake up, I try to remind myself that I'm responsible for my life alone as I can't ask anyone else to seize command of my life with integrity, especially if I don't value my life as something that has integrity. If I have no integrity towards my own life, how can I genuinely believe that someone else will dictate mine with integrity?

So I get up, look outside, and assess my situation. At that point I realize I can't blame the weather, my neighbor, or his dog that shits on the lawn. - Actually, I can and do blame the neighbor dog for shitting on the lawn and his master, but that's another issue completely. - And if I find blame when I wake up, I can only blame myself because I have a choice to get up in the first place. I have the choice not to go to work, not to go to school, not to play a game without winners such as Tic-Tac-Toe. Which according to some writers is a "Strange game. [Where] [t]he only winning move is not to play [the game]."

So I woke up this morning looking at the weather, thinking of a phrase I heard yesterday,

"Wouldn't you prefer a nice game of chess?" 

I didn't matter to me what the rain did, because I knew the weather and it knew itself. I chose not to believe that the rain was anything but rain, and it promised nothing other than that. It reminded me of playing chess with Fozzjnen. Yes, we played a game (chess) and yes there is only one winner. When the game is concluded and put away, I can still look across and see him standing there knowing he isn't a game. He isn't a piece for me to move around. Just like the rain here.

2012年3月7日 Hammer in my sand

I was walking around in my mind, listening to Hammer in the Sand*. 

Standing in the sun I thought about the path I was taking emotionally and spiritually now that I'm a Jew. I walked a little bit further in my mind, although physically I was motioning to sit on a bench away from the buildings and people.

A sweet taste of tobacco hit my lips, and breathed the smoke into my mouth. Holding it, then releasing it slowly. The smoke was as listless as landscape. Blue silhouettes of mountains in front of the sun could be seen, like I saw with Hood this morning. Only by the peak could I tell it was a mountain, and not the rolling hills. 

I could hear my frustration and then I heard nothing. I watched the sand shift around slowly like the smoke. The sand disappeared and so did the music I heard in my mind.

More music came into view and I wanted to lay down on the bench and take the sun as Spectral Mornings* came into view. I pulled my MP3 player out and played it. I loved the sunlight but missed the clouds, and although I tried substituting the absence of clouds with a chain of smoke, nothing changed. Nor did I expect it to all at once.

I prayed for the rain to come and hoped that I could drink from it. It fascinates me that that the terrible weather helps with growth. All sunshine and no rain... Leads to a desert. I left my hammer in the sand before going back into the building. When I reflected on my soul I realized I had to make my own hammers, I couldn't borrow anymore. 

Before opening the door to the building I breathed out, and the smoke was gone. My head just slightly clearer than before, and so were the questions.


*By Steve Hackett

2012年3月1日 "Good morning son"

When I woke up I wanted to vomit. Not because a large bearded fat man was going to penetrate me, but because I got another message at 4:35 AM from Grillman about him seeing the girl I've brought up over the week or so. Although not officially dating,  he said it was weird for him to hang out at her place, especially when her ex-boyfriend shows up. 

There is a saying I might have mentioned here before, "If you want to ride two horses at the same time DON'T LEAVE THE CIRCUS." I think that's why I felt sick. I felt sick because I don't even think the chick he's interested in even knows how to make a decision for herself. Some people don't seem to understand that deferring judgement also defers choice and a voice in terms of happiness or unhappiness.

2011年11月8日 "The way you move is a mystery"

Before I went to bed last night I thought about how I felt inside regarding issues of the heart and spirit. Most of the rabbis I talk with all agree that either gentile or Jew everyone is entitled a relationship with God, in fact saying entitlement already is biased. But at present I can't explain how to rephrase this into a more specific and yet unrestricted word. How does this relate? Well, does one not need a heart and spirit to have a relationship with God?

I have to stop waking up at 4:30 am.

Anyhow, I was thinking about the heart and its issues. And they lingered well into today's morning. Once I said to someone that my heart is open, and yet there is no furniture inside. There weren't even doors! Later I realized over time that my heart had begun to deteriorate over time, since I didn't even have glass for the windows. Hurricanes of booze causing the most damage? No, that's like blaming a symptom for the disease. It was something else.

Eventually someone came inside to renovate. I worked with them on the renovations and secretly I wondered if they would stay, although my face appeared as if I was indifferent, though I wasn't.Wood and metal against the flesh of my heart. Yes, it was a painful process, and I suppose I was afraid of it all. It's hard to recognize yourself on the inside when you don't go there too often. But regardless of how shoddy it had been before, I still I knew the foundation of it regardless. The renovations eventually finished, and of course, I had and still have to do the general maintenance such as polishing the wood and whatnot. I guess what bothered me was that I felt like those involved in the renovations should- no, I supposed I wanted them to stay. Sure the renovations were over, as that's the destination for that journey. But some journeys don't really end do they?

I was reeling the dial for the sound, blasting the car onto the dark road. Massive thumping from the back. I wondered if the car actually accelerated because of the gas or if all I had to do was turn up the speakers. How these things move are a mystery. Sure, I know it's gas that moves the car after ignited, but what if I'm standing still inside? Which is going to move me more?

Then a new song came on the speakers, and I wondered if I should run over what was left of a squirrel. Both the car, squirrel, and I were being overlooked by monolithic-looking hospital on a hill. I think it was around 6:10am by the time I parked.

2011年10月31日 That bitter taste

isn't just a figment of your imagination, or rather my imagination. It's more like a bitter taste of life rather than fiction. Beer this morning was a nice way to avoid breakfast, or was it? It's like drinking bread, so what's the big deal? The train ride into the city was nice. It was around 8:30 or so. Sun already up. To me it felt like 2pm, but probably because I'm so used to getting up at 4:30-5am. Sometimes I wake up around 2am because I have strange dreams, and I'm ashamed to talk about them, so I don't. Oh yes, the ride in. Without my phone I've been relying on my mp3 player to tell me what the time is when needed or when bored.

I had a chance to dig some intel out of my Hebrew professor about something. Or someone? I don't know which, or rather, would not like to discuss, but anyhow I got the intel I wanted. And then I found out a test date which is coming up. I had spaced that out completely.

And today is the first time I have been able to post EVERY single day for a month. Although due to my excitement, or optimistic depression, I have done 31 posts, and managed to do at least one everyday, acknowledging such. 40 posts for October. Not bad.

At 11am, I could tell that the veracity of the sun's rays

on my face, reflected the feelings of my heart. 

I couldn't tell you why I sat on the bench 

that long staring at the yellow leaves.

When I stood up I could not stop smiling,

as that god-damned Modern Major General song,

stuck in my head while I reflected on the bad things in my life,

and how I resolved them or rather how they were resolved with help.

Even now you think about that song.

And even now I still smile.

C'est bien. n'est-ce pas?

2011年10月28日 Interlopers

He didn't drive fast enough. So I passed him and everyone else who was on board with his mentality. From the far right lane it was the easiest thing, and no surprise that it was totally empty. I could tell today was going to be just as cold if not colder than the previous day, so saith my knee, or was it the hunger that drove my knee towards frustration? Probably both.

Blue skies, still damp with lingering darkness. I was letting the cold in at two-sixty-eight, which is my way of saying: two windows down, and 68 miles per hour. Lights on the road began to shut off, but I didn't stop smiling. There wasn't much else to do, other than to do what I've said I declared intention of doing. So far I've upheld all ends, or am in the process of such, outside of sharing want and desire. Yet of those two, they seem more of a disease. But I do not know. The ends that have yet to be held up in completion are often the most arbitrarily hardest ones for me, although they obviously are financial ones since the burdens of surgery expenses, my present living situation, and public-trans fucking my super-pass up has made life miserable at times. But I still smiled this morning, neither dismissing nor welcoming the darkness as it fled west. I watched the sun chase it away.

Inside I feel that it's cold here as well, which may or may not be a good thing since it helps me wonder about people. Thoughts drift towards if they can make the distinction between mercy and sacrifice, or even with greed and love. And I smile, because I can see the want to have both in most people's behavior, and it's even more apparent when it is feasible for them to have both with impunity. Why wait for impunity? Is not such without responsibility or integrity? To execute love with impunity? I don't know if such is possible with humans.

Is it a desire or a disease?

Are my thoughts and feelings even welcomed to question such?
I don't know, but I do know it's still beautifully cold outside, even though it's just as cold on the inside, sometimes uglier.

2011年10月24日 Hunger

I wasn't sure if it was Michael Bolton's voice or if it was the morning blues that took away my appetite. Every bite seemed forced. I had no desire for anything that wasn't a watery liquid, and I would much rather drink ice-tea for breakfast instead of eating, but I knew I needed be in collusion with my stomach or else I'd feel like shit for the rest of the day. Okay, not the rest of the day, but somewhere near the mid-point.

Personally I have felt hunger throughout my whole life, not in the sense that I acknowledge it as an experience, but it often comes back in my life rather than making structured plans to avoid it. But I often don't feel a general "hungry" feeling like a lot of people, rather I almost have a hunger based around being famished. To me hunger negates concentration and living. It's not just about a griping stomach vying for control of the body and mind. Hunger to me is like slowly laying off employees until the factory no longer functions the way it was designed.

I have long concluded that emotional hunger is much worse, much more devastating, and dangerous when not addressed. Yet at times, I find that the "food" necessary to find the solution for such is often few and far in between the annals of life.

2011年10月22日 The nights on Night

Maybe tonight, I will go for a drive? And take in the Night?
It calls me these days. It misses me, and I miss it.
It asks me not to drink. It asks me not to smoke.
And so I try to do less. And I try to do none at all.
And nothing is easy when you do it alone, nothing at all.
Sometimes it asks me things, and tells me things.

And yet, it leaves with the coming specters of colored dark shades.
It leaves with the purple, and the marmalade colors of orange in yellow.
It leaves with the pink. Oh the pink!
It's so pretty in pink. But it leaves me at times
To deal with itself, in the night. In the dark
Just as I deal with myself.
Could I bring tonight to Night?

And the Night comes for me everyday.
And sometimes it wants to talk to me without words.
And I talk to it, with the windows down and the radio on as I drive.
I looked at the stars, and I saw three of them.

I knew the Night was calling.
I knew the Night was young,
And yet as soon as it would begin
it would be old. But as it got old,
I loved it more. I loved its sincerity.
And I did not want to go away.

I did not want to go back to sleep.
I prayed for wings.

I did not need the sleep,
the wings, ideas of escape.
I could put on airs about myself and others with words.
I could hide away in the night. I could hide in the day.
The Night could hide away in the night. It could hide away in itself.
Just like I could. Just like we could.

But when it was done. And I step out of the car, I would still hear,
I would still hear the Night and see the night.
And I would still be myself.
And myself was telling me to do another lap, to continue driving.
To continue thinking.
To continue wondering about the maker of the night.
The Night and I thought about God, who created the light.
Maybe the Night and I will think about it together tonight?
Maybe we will say nothing.

When I step out of the car, and I walk inside
I forget sometimes that I take the Night with me,
and that very night follows me inside.
Follows me throughout my day. In the day even!
I wonder if the Night took a part of me?

I suppose that's a thought for another night.
On another drive. Onto where the tears of bourbon,
and where the breath of cigars, could not come.

It would be where we allow
the other things, the following things
to wash over everything else,
pulling the towers of knowledge into the sea,
only to push back debris.

We'd never escape the water, and
these feelings of spiritual issues and pain.
And to escape would be no different
than crying in the rain. Wouldn't it?
But I wasn't alone, not tonight.
Not tonight, as I stepped out into it,
looking up.

2011年10月20日 Sleeping?

Apparently too much. Waking up 12 hours later wasn't my idea of fun, since I had a lot of work to do, and I was hoping to wake up earlier so that I could get most, if not all of it done. It's not over yet, and while I still have to leave home first, I've got about 6 hours roughly, to make the best of it between assignments. I almost went back to sleep in the shower since the heat was intense.

Unlike yesterday where I wimped out, I will definitely figure out a wake to stay awake today, as opposed to giving to sleep. Much need or otherwise.

Coffee this morning? Yes, after breakfast and some fruit I hope.