Friday, September 30, 2011

Tweet You all to Heck.

Why. Why . WHy? WHy. why do I twit around?

I can't handle it. Twitter is trending. And I'm bandwagoning that SUCKER!

Some people are hilarious. Some, I wish I could virtual-slap every hashtag, @ sign, and bird out there.

If one more person posts something they think is funny when it's not, one more time. So help me I'm leaving.
I don't even know why I'm ranting about it.

I'm Hypocriting. (verb?) (Is now..)

Anyway.... Can I just say that sometimes, late at night is the best time of day?
You all know me oh so well... My insomnia is just turning into a second lifestyle. Eh. #Whatareyagonnado? (crapola)

I've started a new book.
BEholdeth: it's called: wait for it: colon colon colon:

Anatomy of the Spirit.

Hook: Can we develop our own latent powers of intuition as we simultaneously cultivate our personal power and spiritual growth?!?!

Answer: Yes, Bob, Yes we can.

The idea: Body + Spirit = One entity wrapped up with powers unyielding in their divine and 6-sensical POWERS!!

I'm excited. Needless to say.

peace yo.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

More Death Cab. Apologies.

So. Now that I've found my red long, lost iPod- You know the one- I'm re-rediscovering it.

It's like when you read a book as a child and it means so much to you then, but then you read it again when you're older, and it means something completely different but also so much more than it did before because you have that back ground of it meaning to you something then. (Breathe!)

Like layers.

Anyway. Ever since the Death Cab concert, I'm so INTO them. I mean.... I can. Not. Get. Enough of them. I'm in the middle of a desert walking for miles and miles and they are the freaking oasis.

So I was listening to A Lack of Color, and I remember loving the song, but because of how it sounded. I've decided to listen to all of their albums I have, and go through them word by word, phrase by phrase.

I would post the lyrics... Well... should I ? okay I will (Also, I'm sorry that I always post lyrics... it seems like I have nothing to say of my own, but, well, Ben Gibbard always says it better than I ever will)

here they are:

And when I see you

I really see you upside down

But my brain knows better

It picks you up and turns you around

Turns you around

Turns you around

If you feel discouraged

When there's a lack of color here

Please don't worry lover

It's really bursting at the seams

Absorbing everything

The spectrum's A to Z

This is fact, not fiction

For the first time in years

All the girls in every girlie magazine

Can't make me feel any less alone

I'm reaching for the phone

To call at 7:03

And on your machine, I slur a plea

For you to come home

But I know it's too late

I should have given you a reason to stay

Given you a reason to stay

Given you a reason to stay

Given you a reason to stay

This is fact, not fiction

For the first time in years...

This is where I got confused, or lazy... I didn't know what it meant really. So this is some guys response to it.

I think it's pure genius.

Pure beauty. Okay read.

"The whole song is a study of reality through the lens of opposites: inside vs. outside, fact vs. fiction, heart vs. brain. When looking at something, which view shows the soul or the truth of the matter, and which is just a shadow or filter of the truth.

In the midst of his loneliness in the aftermath of being left, he's perfecting his idea of what he had. He's longing for a perfection that he never really had. Is he longing for fact or a fiction he's created for himself?

The first stanza sets this up with the heart vs. the mind contradiction. The eye with vision (just like the heart with relationships) is the first receptor, the first judge. Because, it's first, is it closer to the original and therefore more true? or is the brain more true after it's had time to correct our eye's vision. Our brain tends to do the same thing to our heart after a while in a relationship. The brain is always catching up with our instincts.

By repeating "turns you around" several times, he's emphasizing that the brain does more than just a physical function of inverting an image, but the brain also locks onto the idea and dwells on it, dissects it, considers it over and over again and thinks it over constantly.

But is all that thinking and interpretation bringing him closer to the truth, or further from the truth. Did he really have a perfect relationship, or is he weaving a myth of perfection. Which is fact, which is fiction? The heart or the mind?

In the last lines of the song I think he realizes that he's longing for a false perfection. His reality is that he's alone now. That's the fact. The fiction is the relationship that's now over: they were together, but it couldn't work because it wasn't true. All the time they spent together was just a sham because at the heart of the matter it couldn't work."

Anyways. These are the times that I probably just don't have any original thought. Just when I think everyone else is a genius and has truth to say, because I'm a little burned out for finding it myself.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Today, We Match, America.

Today was 9/11.

Though, according to the clock, it was yesterday, For my body and brain, it's still today.

Isn't it ironic how cliché life gets?

Especially when the big moments in your life seem to match up with big moments in life itself.

America, you went through a tragedy 10 years ago. Today was a day that you had to remember it. I know you have grief and residual anger and lingering confusion as to what happened and why and who it was so we can blame them for it. Somebody has to PAY for it. Right?


And yet, life goes on. As it always did, as it always will.
People pay for it every day. We all do. By still living. That's the price we pay for life: living.

Time never was subjective, was it?

And at this same moment, I reminisced about my own personal tragedy. And re-witnessed a different form of it this weekend.

Because half of me expects the world to stop. Stop right now. How are you living, breathing, functioning, moving, repeating? when injustice continues to plague lungs and slash some hearts.

The other half of me wants to be apart of that constant transfer of energy. The jealousy of movement pangs me, because it is not time that has stopped, but my breathing. I am stopped. And I must watch the world uphold its ability to press forward while I take my slow, painful, frustratingly prolonged time getting back on that stupid horse.

And yet, life goes on. As it always did, as it always will.

We are always subjective, aren't we?

Yeah. I am.

Here's some buffalo from Wyoming. Happy trials. Whoops. I meant trails.

Side Note: My life is not as dramatic as appears in the rearview mirror.