I used to be such a carefree guy- I could spend a night happy, with no strange, ominous or sad thoughts, with my friends. However, in the wake of a few funerals and the biggest transition I'll probably ever have to make close in sight, It's no wonder I'm becoming a little existential.
Whenever I used to think about death, I used to have all of these little coincidences I would remember and "prove" to me the existence of god, and therefore, of a heaven. For example, I listened to a band called Lectrolux, then the next day found an "Electrolux" vacuum in my house. Another time, I was listening to "Like a Stone" by Audioslave while I was sitting in the car, and as I looked out the window during the guitar solo, cars were coming by exactly to the tune of the guitar. Then, one day I found a list of schools an abandoned notebook that was identical to the list of schools I was applying to. After these experiences, I thought god had "proven" to me that he was there for me.
Now, as I realize that I have aged somewhat, these thoughts no longer assuage, and whenever I think of death, especially of how close it really is, I am overcome with images of eternal sleep, dirt, and blackness.
And that scares the SHIT out of me.
What's worse is that the malaise that comes with these feelings just doesn't go away. Constantly tugging on the back of my mind are these dark, hopeless thoughts that do nothing but give me stomachaches. I try everything -- setting goals, calling friends, listening to happy music... things that once comforted me and made me feel special -- things that once helped me feel better but now only serve as minor distractions.
I need to find or do something that makes me feel as if life isn't just the time you spend waiting to die, that I have some purpose or task I have to do.
Maybe I just need to get my ass off the computer.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
I have a Stomach Ache
It sounds like this...
Grrrrrrrmrmmmrmrmrmmmmmmmnffnfffmnnnhnnhhnjhhiiiiiiiiii
nnnnnhhghgggggngnggggggggghgggmgggeiggggggiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmm
mmmmmmm
Then a cloud of methane exits and I feel somewhat better.
Grrrrrrrmrmmmrmrmrmmmmmmmnffnfffmnnnhnnhhnjhhiiiiiiiiii
nnnnnhhghgggggngnggggggggghgggmgggeiggggggiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmm
mmmmmmm
Then a cloud of methane exits and I feel somewhat better.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Born Without Shame
I think I was born with some disorder that eats my shame. For some reason I never think about how something will affect my character or how people will perceive me before I do it, and sometimes, I really wish I could change that.
Example. In my Italian Class, we began scripting our final exam, a compendium of short skits. For one of the skits, we are performing "Single Ladies" by Beyonce, in Italian. I immediately signed up to be Beyonce. Why? My original thought was "haha, I would love to learn the single ladies dance!" Now, looking back on it, I still have no problem playing Beyonce, but I have a gut feeling that, well, I SHOULD have a problem, and some emotion I'm lacking just won't kick in.
Example. I wore a bowler cap to Waiting for Godot today because of the cap's significance to the play. While my teachers, peers, and strangers gave me strange looks and commented on how "weird" I was being, I took no offense and continued on without taking that hat off. Should I have had some semblance of shame and just taken the hat off so as to not look stupid? I don't know.
So if any of my loyal three readers have any input on how to deal with this issue or whether I actually need shame, please tell.
Because I seem to relish in being ridiculous.
Example. In my Italian Class, we began scripting our final exam, a compendium of short skits. For one of the skits, we are performing "Single Ladies" by Beyonce, in Italian. I immediately signed up to be Beyonce. Why? My original thought was "haha, I would love to learn the single ladies dance!" Now, looking back on it, I still have no problem playing Beyonce, but I have a gut feeling that, well, I SHOULD have a problem, and some emotion I'm lacking just won't kick in.
Example. I wore a bowler cap to Waiting for Godot today because of the cap's significance to the play. While my teachers, peers, and strangers gave me strange looks and commented on how "weird" I was being, I took no offense and continued on without taking that hat off. Should I have had some semblance of shame and just taken the hat off so as to not look stupid? I don't know.
So if any of my loyal three readers have any input on how to deal with this issue or whether I actually need shame, please tell.
Because I seem to relish in being ridiculous.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Stomach
For some reason, whenever I get close to getting what I want I get pretty bad stomachaches. I don't know if it's nerves or just that I have a weird system, or whether anyone else has this, but like, when I'm anticipating a package, when I opened my acceptance letters, everything, stomachache. Then, since I recognize what causes the stomachache, I often try to convince myself and others that I didn't want the thing in the first place so as to assuage my pain.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
The life and times of a flamboyant and quite narcissistic twelve year old...
I had a blog when I was twelve and wrote in it. I actually believed that people read it.
A cold, the green kind
EXPLICIT CONTENT- NOT TO BE READ BY NORMAL PEOPLE
"Thoughts" seems to be less exciting lately, and I realize why- my thinker is clogged. The damn thing is backed up with snot. I had a cold, gave it to my brother, and once I got over it, he gave it right back to me. So as you can guess, this blog post is me describing my cold in great detail because, well, it's the only thing I can think about.
It came over me slowly, hours at a time. First, just a rattle in my nose. Then, firm nasal pressure, and finally, darkness. I didn't realize until the first morning when I took a deep inhale through the schnoz, and instead of a breath, I took a gulp. That day was not the worst. Without any nose blowing at all, my nasal passages would swell with clear fluid, clear up, then swell again. I took a NyQuil this first night and I was fine.
The next morning it was not my nose that was stuffy. I felt like Giles Corey, an unbearable pressure placed on my chest. I took a deep cough; nothing seemed wrong and I went on my way. My nose welled with fluid and I blew it for the first time that morning: clear, thin fluid. Except for the 90 decibel nasal clarion call, there was nothing to be worried about. I spent that day, like the first, breathing somewhat fine, only this time with the occasional honk.
The third morning something was different. I woke again with the same chest pressure, only this time, I did not just cough -- I choked. There was something in me, a presence rumbling in my trachea. I tried breathing through my nose. Another change... my brain processed a putrid smell. I opened my window to clear the air, when I realized this smell was coming not from some strange emitter in my room; it was coming from inside of me. I blew my nose and out came the rankest, greenest mucus I had ever seen in my life. Instead of an alleviation of the pressure in my nose, my sinuses immediately re-filled with fluid. Instead of clearing them again, I went on with them stuffed so I would not have to smell the hideous odor. That day, I instinctively tried to blow my nose, but the effort was mostly futile. That evening I enjoyed the last meal I could taste, the last smell I could smell.
That night was the first night in which my cough and cold medicine did not clear my nose, so I tried breathing through my mouth. For two hours I forced my body to breathe in this manner, but when I was taken by sleep, I snapped back to my instincts and snorted through my honker.
The fourth morning was the climax of my troubles. I woke up with a splitting headache, centered right in between my eyes. My chest felt like it contained a lead weight, and my nose was as swollen as a broken toe. I put a Kleenex to my face and blew- nothing came out, yet my nasal passages were still blocked. I was suddenly overcome with the urge to run into the bathroom; neither my mouth nor my nose would take in any oxygen. I choked, coughed and sputtered into the toilet. A whooping, bubbling cough permeated through the house, and after minutes of crying and spitting, I gazed, lightheaded, at what I had procured. Brown and green gobs of sputum sat in front of my eyes. The pressure was gone, but the cough remained -- I went through the day choking, crying and spitting in between each tissue blare.
The fifth day, yesterday, began exactly the same as the fourth. However, this time fluid came out of my trumpet- a thick, yellow pudding of bacteria and pus. I spent the day at the beach, and though my nose cooperated and stayed fairly clear, my sense of smell had dissipated, my sense of taste was gone, my coughs were full of gunk. When I arrived home I was so exhausted from coughing and taking shallow breaths that I passed out, sans NyQuil, at 8PM.
This morning, I expectorated more than I had ever expectorated before. Entire colonies of rhinovirus were laid to rest that morning, and instead of praying for them, I flushed them. I blew my nose, still yellow and fetid. I've been a one man symphony since this morning, blowing, snorting, spitting and choching (that's an onomatopoeia, pronounced with a Jewish CH as in Chanukkah). Starting at around noon, however, both my snot and my sputum have been turning white. The smell is still awful, the taste in my mouth is still gone, and my sinuses still hurt, but the pressure in my chest and nose is almost gone, my coughs have become less rattly, and my nose doesn't feel like a water balloon. Though I have no doubt that I will have a coughing fit tomorrow, I think with some hot tea and Tylenol I will beat this cold.
If you've made it here, thank you for embarking on this journey with me. I hope it wasn't as miserable for you as it was for me.
"Thoughts" seems to be less exciting lately, and I realize why- my thinker is clogged. The damn thing is backed up with snot. I had a cold, gave it to my brother, and once I got over it, he gave it right back to me. So as you can guess, this blog post is me describing my cold in great detail because, well, it's the only thing I can think about.
It came over me slowly, hours at a time. First, just a rattle in my nose. Then, firm nasal pressure, and finally, darkness. I didn't realize until the first morning when I took a deep inhale through the schnoz, and instead of a breath, I took a gulp. That day was not the worst. Without any nose blowing at all, my nasal passages would swell with clear fluid, clear up, then swell again. I took a NyQuil this first night and I was fine.
The next morning it was not my nose that was stuffy. I felt like Giles Corey, an unbearable pressure placed on my chest. I took a deep cough; nothing seemed wrong and I went on my way. My nose welled with fluid and I blew it for the first time that morning: clear, thin fluid. Except for the 90 decibel nasal clarion call, there was nothing to be worried about. I spent that day, like the first, breathing somewhat fine, only this time with the occasional honk.
The third morning something was different. I woke again with the same chest pressure, only this time, I did not just cough -- I choked. There was something in me, a presence rumbling in my trachea. I tried breathing through my nose. Another change... my brain processed a putrid smell. I opened my window to clear the air, when I realized this smell was coming not from some strange emitter in my room; it was coming from inside of me. I blew my nose and out came the rankest, greenest mucus I had ever seen in my life. Instead of an alleviation of the pressure in my nose, my sinuses immediately re-filled with fluid. Instead of clearing them again, I went on with them stuffed so I would not have to smell the hideous odor. That day, I instinctively tried to blow my nose, but the effort was mostly futile. That evening I enjoyed the last meal I could taste, the last smell I could smell.
That night was the first night in which my cough and cold medicine did not clear my nose, so I tried breathing through my mouth. For two hours I forced my body to breathe in this manner, but when I was taken by sleep, I snapped back to my instincts and snorted through my honker.
The fourth morning was the climax of my troubles. I woke up with a splitting headache, centered right in between my eyes. My chest felt like it contained a lead weight, and my nose was as swollen as a broken toe. I put a Kleenex to my face and blew- nothing came out, yet my nasal passages were still blocked. I was suddenly overcome with the urge to run into the bathroom; neither my mouth nor my nose would take in any oxygen. I choked, coughed and sputtered into the toilet. A whooping, bubbling cough permeated through the house, and after minutes of crying and spitting, I gazed, lightheaded, at what I had procured. Brown and green gobs of sputum sat in front of my eyes. The pressure was gone, but the cough remained -- I went through the day choking, crying and spitting in between each tissue blare.
The fifth day, yesterday, began exactly the same as the fourth. However, this time fluid came out of my trumpet- a thick, yellow pudding of bacteria and pus. I spent the day at the beach, and though my nose cooperated and stayed fairly clear, my sense of smell had dissipated, my sense of taste was gone, my coughs were full of gunk. When I arrived home I was so exhausted from coughing and taking shallow breaths that I passed out, sans NyQuil, at 8PM.
This morning, I expectorated more than I had ever expectorated before. Entire colonies of rhinovirus were laid to rest that morning, and instead of praying for them, I flushed them. I blew my nose, still yellow and fetid. I've been a one man symphony since this morning, blowing, snorting, spitting and choching (that's an onomatopoeia, pronounced with a Jewish CH as in Chanukkah). Starting at around noon, however, both my snot and my sputum have been turning white. The smell is still awful, the taste in my mouth is still gone, and my sinuses still hurt, but the pressure in my chest and nose is almost gone, my coughs have become less rattly, and my nose doesn't feel like a water balloon. Though I have no doubt that I will have a coughing fit tomorrow, I think with some hot tea and Tylenol I will beat this cold.
If you've made it here, thank you for embarking on this journey with me. I hope it wasn't as miserable for you as it was for me.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
So get this.
Our entire observable universe is a "true vacuum." That means that in between stars and galaxies, there is a minimum amount of energy, caused by a few stray particles. In this true vacuum, all of the particles that make up us can exist. Now imagine a false vacuum. In these places, there is a greater amount of energy and pressure in each piece of space. One of these vacuums is already proven to exist- the electroweak false vacuum. In these vacuums, there is so much energy stored in each unit of space that very few or no particles can exist. However, since each of these vacuums have such a huge amount of energy, the space they occupy is expanding at a rate exponentially faster than the speed of light (since it's just empty space it can expand that fast). Our own true vacuum universe is expanding too- just not nearly as fast.
Now if these false vacuums existed in our observable universe, we'd obviously be able to see them. But what if instead of our universe containing false vacuums, a much larger false vacuum universe contained true vacuum bubbles of universes like our own universe? Each true vacuum bubble would begin with a "big bang" as energy from the false vacuum would suddenly be released. As the false vacuum universe inflates at an enormous pace, each of these little bubble universes expands like our own universe. Therefore, we will never be able to contact these other universes, but if the scenario above is correct, they exist.
Let the daydreaming begin.
*With apologies to Alex Villenkin.
PS, EXEC BOARD APPLICANTS- THIS IS NOT QUANTUM MECHANICS AND QUOTING THIS OR USING THIS THEORY WILL GIVE YOU NO POINTS.
Now if these false vacuums existed in our observable universe, we'd obviously be able to see them. But what if instead of our universe containing false vacuums, a much larger false vacuum universe contained true vacuum bubbles of universes like our own universe? Each true vacuum bubble would begin with a "big bang" as energy from the false vacuum would suddenly be released. As the false vacuum universe inflates at an enormous pace, each of these little bubble universes expands like our own universe. Therefore, we will never be able to contact these other universes, but if the scenario above is correct, they exist.
Let the daydreaming begin.
*With apologies to Alex Villenkin.
PS, EXEC BOARD APPLICANTS- THIS IS NOT QUANTUM MECHANICS AND QUOTING THIS OR USING THIS THEORY WILL GIVE YOU NO POINTS.
Monday, May 18, 2009
The Tale of a Fallen Soldier
This person wanted me to post this on my blog to protect his anonymity but so everyone could still laugh at it.
so it was the weekend before thanksgiving, i was at a party, ready to get the fuck out of there because i was bored and tired. I'm watching my friend play beer pong. I see some other girl watching, i start talking to her, get her #. We both want to "chill" after party. There is a miscommunication and we end up not chilling. We are texting the following week; I realize this girl is useless and doesnt have half a brain in her head, so she isnt worth more than a fuck buddy. (I was a virign at the time, but didn't care who got my virginity). Me and girl continue texting and i decide I'm going to tell her I don't like her but we should just fuck. She agrees. She texts me dirty things during thanksgiving. I could probably go through my phone and find them, but its not worth it. I get back to school after thanksgiving. There is a party; I call the girl up to go to the party with me so she can come home with me. I get to party; crazy girl is there, but dancing and smoking with friends. I see my a kid i know dancing/making out with some girl and that girls roommate wont leave them alone. I decide I'm going to take action. I dance with the friend. end up hooking up with her. Go talk to my friend and ask him should I go home with crazy girl or the friend's girl's roommate. He says crazy girl. I finally get back with crazy girl. We fuck twice. She goes to bathroom then I go to bathroom and tell her I'm going to tell my roommate he can come sleep in his own bed because I'm not about to make him sleep on the couch. She goes, "If you do that, I'm leaving." My response: "Then leave." Lets just say she ended up staying. We sleep for a little, wake up at about 7:30 or 8:30 and shes like lets fuck again. Me: "the roommates here!" Her: "so.." Me "the roommates here" Her: "so..." repeats several times then I give in, not because of her. The reason why i gave in was because when I was telling my roommate how crazy that girl is that might come home with me, he said, "I want to be in there for a show." So i gave my roommate the show he wanted, but the whole time we were going at it, I was hoping he would wake up, but at the same time I was hoping he wouldnt.
In conclusion, it is better to lose your virginity to a crazy bitch than to not lose it at all.
so it was the weekend before thanksgiving, i was at a party, ready to get the fuck out of there because i was bored and tired. I'm watching my friend play beer pong. I see some other girl watching, i start talking to her, get her #. We both want to "chill" after party. There is a miscommunication and we end up not chilling. We are texting the following week; I realize this girl is useless and doesnt have half a brain in her head, so she isnt worth more than a fuck buddy. (I was a virign at the time, but didn't care who got my virginity). Me and girl continue texting and i decide I'm going to tell her I don't like her but we should just fuck. She agrees. She texts me dirty things during thanksgiving. I could probably go through my phone and find them, but its not worth it. I get back to school after thanksgiving. There is a party; I call the girl up to go to the party with me so she can come home with me. I get to party; crazy girl is there, but dancing and smoking with friends. I see my a kid i know dancing/making out with some girl and that girls roommate wont leave them alone. I decide I'm going to take action. I dance with the friend. end up hooking up with her. Go talk to my friend and ask him should I go home with crazy girl or the friend's girl's roommate. He says crazy girl. I finally get back with crazy girl. We fuck twice. She goes to bathroom then I go to bathroom and tell her I'm going to tell my roommate he can come sleep in his own bed because I'm not about to make him sleep on the couch. She goes, "If you do that, I'm leaving." My response: "Then leave." Lets just say she ended up staying. We sleep for a little, wake up at about 7:30 or 8:30 and shes like lets fuck again. Me: "the roommates here!" Her: "so.." Me "the roommates here" Her: "so..." repeats several times then I give in, not because of her. The reason why i gave in was because when I was telling my roommate how crazy that girl is that might come home with me, he said, "I want to be in there for a show." So i gave my roommate the show he wanted, but the whole time we were going at it, I was hoping he would wake up, but at the same time I was hoping he wouldnt.
In conclusion, it is better to lose your virginity to a crazy bitch than to not lose it at all.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Lactose Intolerance
Today, my stomach felt upset,
To cheer him up, we'd buy a pet;
But when I got into the store
I threw up all over the floor.
To cheer him up, we'd buy a pet;
But when I got into the store
I threw up all over the floor.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Star Trek
I can't stress this enough. See this goddamn movie.
Two hours of explosions and theoretical physics. They turn a planet into a freakin' black hole , outrun a supernova, talk about event horizons, skydive from space, take part in an enormous time paradox...
Maybe it was the fact that I was punch drunk and loopy when I saw the movie but I promise everyone that I've never had such an awesome experience in a movie theater in my entire life. Seriously, that space jump thing was sick. Giant monster thing? Awesome. Spock? Never looked better.
Everyone who doesn't want to see this movie solely because it's Star Trek should reconsider why they go to see a movie in the first place. I don't know why anyone else sees movies, but I see them so I can see black holes eat planets, see the Enterprise defy the laws of General Relativity, and so I can see the principle of spaghettification at work, alongside copious explosions.
If you don't like that, what COULD you like? The Notebook?
Two hours of explosions and theoretical physics. They turn a planet into a freakin' black hole , outrun a supernova, talk about event horizons, skydive from space, take part in an enormous time paradox...
Maybe it was the fact that I was punch drunk and loopy when I saw the movie but I promise everyone that I've never had such an awesome experience in a movie theater in my entire life. Seriously, that space jump thing was sick. Giant monster thing? Awesome. Spock? Never looked better.
Everyone who doesn't want to see this movie solely because it's Star Trek should reconsider why they go to see a movie in the first place. I don't know why anyone else sees movies, but I see them so I can see black holes eat planets, see the Enterprise defy the laws of General Relativity, and so I can see the principle of spaghettification at work, alongside copious explosions.
If you don't like that, what COULD you like? The Notebook?
Monday, May 11, 2009
HA
I really want to be a physicist and my science teacher only taught us half of the curriculum so I'm going to get a 3 on an AP I think I am perfectly capable of getting a 5 on.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Today
Today was the greatest. Seriously.
I drank sweet tea with my friends and studied physics in the park.
I love everyone.
I drank sweet tea with my friends and studied physics in the park.
I love everyone.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
"Pretentious"
Someone just told me that my screenname, fmsbw***, is pretentious.
I don't think people quite understand the word.
Liking Dostoyevsky for the sake of telling people you've read the Brothers Karamazov is pretentious.
Reading the calculus textbook just so you can show everyone how good you are at calculus is pretentious.
Eating foie gras but not liking the taste is pretentious.
Listening to Beethoven to tell people you're high society is pretentious.
The fact that my screenname is a poem from an art movement I'm really interested in is not pretentious.
Taking notes on a textbook for a physics class is not pretentious.
Listening to Bach because your mother plays it in the car is not pretentious.
And for gods sake, liking Creme Brulee because it's fucking delicious is NOT pretentious.
Therefore, please stop calling me pretentious unless you sense that I'm doing stuff just so people think I'm high society. It's not my fault I like things that some people consider pretentious, that's just how things've worked out.
However, claiming that I know what's pretentious and what's not is pretty pretentious so uh, sorry
I don't think people quite understand the word.
Liking Dostoyevsky for the sake of telling people you've read the Brothers Karamazov is pretentious.
Reading the calculus textbook just so you can show everyone how good you are at calculus is pretentious.
Eating foie gras but not liking the taste is pretentious.
Listening to Beethoven to tell people you're high society is pretentious.
The fact that my screenname is a poem from an art movement I'm really interested in is not pretentious.
Taking notes on a textbook for a physics class is not pretentious.
Listening to Bach because your mother plays it in the car is not pretentious.
And for gods sake, liking Creme Brulee because it's fucking delicious is NOT pretentious.
Therefore, please stop calling me pretentious unless you sense that I'm doing stuff just so people think I'm high society. It's not my fault I like things that some people consider pretentious, that's just how things've worked out.
However, claiming that I know what's pretentious and what's not is pretty pretentious so uh, sorry
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Dear Katelyn
You aren't anorexic :)
You're sitting next to me. You are wearing a striped shirt and jeans. You have a white bag and glasses. That's awesome! You're awesome! You're also one of my three friends who has a blog. Hooray! So uh, what's up? How's life, sitting next to me and stuff? I'm pretty good myself, just sitting and yawning and all that jazz :P
So uh you're telling me about SUNY Genesseo's focault pendulum and sitting next to me and Paul is sitting behind us talking about black people and Jo-Jo is there to make sure it stays not racist... that's pretty rad. We're talking about Lexington Steele now and you think it's gross but I think it's AWESOME. Now you're showing me a sideways tree. It made me make this face:
:{
Aight I'mma go. Enjoy your letter!
Your bud,
Ryan
You're sitting next to me. You are wearing a striped shirt and jeans. You have a white bag and glasses. That's awesome! You're awesome! You're also one of my three friends who has a blog. Hooray! So uh, what's up? How's life, sitting next to me and stuff? I'm pretty good myself, just sitting and yawning and all that jazz :P
So uh you're telling me about SUNY Genesseo's focault pendulum and sitting next to me and Paul is sitting behind us talking about black people and Jo-Jo is there to make sure it stays not racist... that's pretty rad. We're talking about Lexington Steele now and you think it's gross but I think it's AWESOME. Now you're showing me a sideways tree. It made me make this face:
:{
Aight I'mma go. Enjoy your letter!
Your bud,
Ryan
Saturday, May 2, 2009
How to be 16: A Guide
As a 17 year old, I am, of course, the most reputable source.
-Hate your parents.
-Hate your friends.
-Complain about both.
-Be different.
-Get a significant other.
-Have a superficial relationship.
-Dump them.
-Binge, then purge.
-Make up problems.
-Complain about them.
-Give up.
-Pussy out.
-Blog about it.
-Facebook it.
-Twitter it.
-Today, fyl.
-Repeat.
Damn, I'm glad I'm not 16 anymore. PS, Columbia University '13 :)
-Hate your parents.
-Hate your friends.
-Complain about both.
-Be different.
-Get a significant other.
-Have a superficial relationship.
-Dump them.
-Binge, then purge.
-Make up problems.
-Complain about them.
-Give up.
-Pussy out.
-Blog about it.
-Facebook it.
-Twitter it.
-Today, fyl.
-Repeat.
Damn, I'm glad I'm not 16 anymore. PS, Columbia University '13 :)
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