You know what the most frightening thing is? After my whole big long rant about the meaninglessness of existence….nobody ever said to me “Mark, it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.”
…And what a journey it has been. But it’s not over yet.
“Honestly, why would you do that?” -Eddie, after I poked him on Facebook…while I was sitting 3 feet away at my own machine.
“In this short brutal life, you’ve got to sieze any opportunity to celebrate.”
Bonus turbo points to he who names the source.
Why is it that when I wake up every morning without my alarm (meaning on days when I don’t need to wake up with my alarm because I have nothing to do) I freak out like I need to be somewhere and it takes me several long panicked moments for me to realize what day it is and that I don’t need to be anywhere at all? What a way to start every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday. Blargh.
Real Analysis sucks. And you can’t truly understand unless you’ve taken it. Or maybe unless you’ve had Biology at Bradley, then I would assume you understand the feeling. Who works on ONE proof from 2pm until 10:45pm+? You guessed it: This guy. And I still have one more to do.
All is not lost, however. Now I have something else to eat my time, as if guitar, AIM and video games were not enough: Facebook. It’s addicting.
Also, I sold my bass guitar today to my sister. What that means is that I am going to get a 12 string guitar to jam on. It’s going to be freakin awesome and I can’t wait. I also can’t wait to thrash some on the electric when I go home (this summer?). I love not being able to feel things the same way with my lift hand fingertips. Never have they been so pleasantly numb before.
The reason I questionably say summer for the home-going is that I hope to take a trip to NY and Vermont with Pat and Kali to visit my brother and hit some sweet powder (snow, not cocaine) over spring break. Snowboarding? On spring break? No, I am not crazy, at least not for this very statement. Thank you Augustana, and your brilliant trimester scheduling, for starting my spring break in February (most definitely not the first thing that I would associate with spring) and ending it in early March (still well before spring begins). Sometimes I wonder why all the Augustana billboards say “Augustana. Brilliant.” Personally, I think “Augustana. Deviant” is much more appropriate.
And yes, I am aware that amalgamous is not actually a word according to Webster. I don’t very much give a damn.
What would happen if nobody lived? If everybody died tomorrow, would it matter? I think it wouldn’t. Sure, everything that everyone is working for has a purpose, but it seems like there is no more purpose to the world and everything in it than we as humans put there.
Why am I in school? To get an education.
Why do I want an education? So I can increase my chances of getting a good job.
Why do I want a good job? So that I can have money.
Why do I want money? So I can enjoy life, and not have to worry about needing to rob banks to pay for all of my disgustingly expensive habits and hobbies.
Why do I have hobbies? Because otherwise my life would be either work or nothingness, and we don’t want that.
It looks like everything that I have done in life serves one ultimate purpose: keep me happy before I die. Even if I do something with my life that serves others, and helps them in their purpose, what is their purpose? Can you think of a single person alive or that has lived whose purpose for living did not somehow serve only the human race (or at least ultimately the human race)?
Many have, do, and will claim that we are here with one purpose: to do His work. Which, as I have come to understand it, is to spread His word. What will that do? Ultimately, what will that accomplish?
Of course, a great deal of this uncertainty comes from the fact that I do not believe that I will exist past the point when electrical currents stop circulating in my brain. For me, that is the end. The ultimate end. Once I think no more, I percieve no more, and I will be no more (personal belief–you, of course, are entitled to your own, same or otherwise).
This is why I say: if we all die tomorrow, what will happen? There will be an Earth (which if you think about it, won’t be Earth, because there will be nobody around to call it Earth) filled with dead people, but who will care? Not I. I will not be able to care. I will be nothing.
In the meantime, I will give my life all the meaning I think it should have, all the meaning that my poor mind can comprehend: to have fun, to love, and to be loved.
Hey, 0 out of 3 aint bad.
For all of you who think we workers at the Ghetto-tree (Rivertree Court Cinemas) don’t take our jobs seriously, here is something to set your minds at ease. Either that, or to completely shatter your perception of reality. You decide.
Photos courtesy of and gloriously shot by: The Sticky Baby.
In case you didn’t know how much of a badass I am, this should tell you.
So we had a speaker today in PS214 Adolescent Development. It really wasn’t anything to get excited about, until we started reading the board from the previous class. The lecture was from an openly gay man about what it is to be male or female vs. what it is to be masculine or feminine, or androgenous. So we are talking about biological gender determination, sociological gender determination, and psychological sexual preference determination, and all the while I am wearing my flagrantly pink shirt for the first time in a few weeks. Help me out here, did I pick the wrong day to wear my pink shirt? Example: he would say that about 1 in 10 statistically has same-sex attractions, and so statistically speaking, there should be 3 people in the room that are attracted to the same sex. And then he looked at me. Akward? Maybe. Then he started talking about what happens to little children when they are first taken shopping to the toy store: girls are encouraged to purchase “girly” toys like barbies and such, and boys are encouraged to get “manly” toys like trucks and guns and sporting equipment. He goes on to say that girls are more able to take on masculine roles and play with masculine toys, but if a little boy were to try to be feminine, it would be discouraged. You know what happened when I first went shopping? I chose a doll to be my first hand-picked toy. My parents fought it a little, but I wanted that doll so bad that I held out until I got it. Does that make me socially unacceptable? Oh well. We all had a good laugh about it. Besides, that doll was totally worth it: it closed its eyes when you tipped it on its back. How cool is that?
“Stop trying to kill me all the time.” -Eddie, the loveable brown roomie.
First person not present for the purchase or initial opening of today’s random acquisition that can name what it is gets a hug or a handshake. Will offer 3 hints upon request. I don’t think it matters, though, because nobody reads this anyway…
Soundtrack to my life:
Dashboard Confessional – For You to Notice…
Dashboard Confessional – So Impossible
Dashboard Confessional – This Ruined Puzzle
Dashboard Confessional – Again I Go Unnoticed
Listen if you dare. Make sure you have a tissue handy.
To say anything explanatory about this one would be to give away it all. Suffice to say that it started as an inside joke about Static X.
I took Creative Writing in high school, as a senior. It was a very easy copout way of not taking a class where I would have to read novels and write papers and whatnot. You know what? It was the first writing class that I liked pretty much everything I wrote. There were few works in that class that I did not actually think were worthy of paper. Among the works that I enjoyed creating is my favorite series: “So Close and Yet So Far…” which was alternately dubbed “the stalker stories” by my class. My teacher felt that it was good enough to read to the class, and as anyone would expect the first comment I recieved when she was finished was: “man, that was creepy.” I guess I deserved that one. Three people have told me that they like it, so here it will be for all to read.
I promised a new page, and here it is, no thanks to the uncooperative mySQL and PHP. Basically I had to try every possible combination of the following to get it to work:
mySQL3 or
mySQL4
and
PHP4 or
PHP5
and
Apache Webserver or
Abyss Webserver
and WordPress.
…and it still didn’t work. So then I said “I would sell my soul to have my blog working.” And the devil appeared to me and he said “Mark, you know that thing isn’t worth anything. It’s cold and black and dead, and I would rather have your left testicle.” Whatever, as long as it works.
I’ll be sure to post more interesting things soon, and feel free to post comments.