Tonight Billy is home alone. He sits at the center of his old beat-up couch with his left hand curled around a glass of orange juice pondering his refrigerator full of emptiness. The television in front of him is dark; the only illumination offered comes feebly from the sulfur street lamps outside the window. Billy's shirt is a tad wrinkled. His legs are not restless.
Tonight Billy is staying on the couch instead of moving out into the night with friends and foes. He will not be driven to various venues mindlessly. He will not be asked, persuaded, cajoled, pressured, or fooled into taking yet another plunge. Billy is taking matters into his own hands tonight by not doing anything. Billy has taken matters into his own hands.
Tonight Billy is sipping oranges instead of sipping poison. Billy tastes sourness flowing down his throat instead of feeling a white-hot poker there. Billy stands firmly on his own two legs instead of staggering supported by the legs of another. Billy sees and understands that he is home and calm instead of seeing and understanding that he does not understand at all. Billy urinates once instead of five times. Billy has taken matters into his own hands.
Tonight Billy has chosen to sit soberly in his one-room apartment and think soberly about his future. He works in a warehouse for two McChickens and a large soda more than minimum wage. He has not spoken to his parents since the years began with 19. Billy washes his clothes once a month, but has only enough to last a week. His television shows black because otherwise it would be showing blue. Billy has taken matters into his own hands. And look where his hands took him.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
A Few Metaphors All about the Same Thing
Before we begin, I would just like to make one request from you, the reader. I don't write without the purpose of giving enjoyment/insight to a reader, and I would like to know if I have accomplished that or not. So, if you read this, please let me know what you think. And have patience.
--
First Metaphor: Headphones
I have worn during my life many pairs of headphones. The cheapest headphones that I bought and used for more than one day cost me 12 dollars, while the most expensive cost me 85 dollars. There are headphones out there for as cheap as 5 dollars, and there are others which are as expensive as 500 dollars or more.
The 12 dollar pair, I wore for a summer while working because I had no way of getting better headphones, but I hated them and myself for hearing such poor quality sound. Still, when you are without option, you take what you can get, and later try not to think about it. Afterwards, I realized that I was better off with silence. The 85 dollar pair is a set of noise canceling headphones from Sony. I have a thing with Sony. Sony is just my style; I don't feel as complete if my headphones are not Sony, regardless of form or function. In any case, these headphones, though expensive, did not deliver all that I had hoped for. They looked great and had excellent specs, yet upon use proved lacking in bass, painful over the ears after an hour, and to have a double wire which twists uncontrollably. Overall, I am stuck with them due to the price I paid, the investment put in.
Of these headphones, the one I most enjoyed using was a beat up pair of 30 dollar Sony MDR-EX55LP earbuds that I used for over 1.5 years before the cord finally wore out and music stopped issuing into my left ear. This is how life goes when you have found something truly great, that fits like a silk glove. That is, the headphones died after tough usage, and I was forced to part with much sorrow. That pair still sits in my desk drawer though now defunct, as I am unable to bear trashing an item that I treasured for so long.
--
Second Metaphor: Office Supplies
I am very particular about my office supplies. This includes but is not limited to pens, pencils, erasers, staplers, tape dispensers, scissors, and markers. My general rule is that once I have found something, I will use it until it can no longer function as I desire. If you were to offer me a 100 dollar fountain pen, I would not be able to bring myself to use it until I finished off the pen that I am currently working on. I mean, using.
There are exceptions to this, of course. At times, a pen fresh from the pack will produce streaky marks for a page or so, at which point I become ambivalent to the pen. I place it in a special compartment of my desk pen-holder, and each time I use up a pen or find another streaky pen, I try the old pen again. After five or six tries, I give up and toss the pen, though very reluctantly. I have at times reached into my garbage in order to give the pen another try, because I see it lying there full of ink and ready to be used, yet when I put it to paper I am again disappointed.
Erasers deserve a special attention, as the use of an eraser molds its future shape. I loathe pink erasers; my preferred eraser is the "plastic eraser" type, which is white and erases as if it is greased. If the eraser comes to me in its wrapper, I do not remove the wrapper even if the eraser becomes too short to use. If an eraser comes to me without its wrapper, I use it until it reaches a size so small so as to be unusable. I then very uncomfortably use the next eraser in line. I am not against using stray erasers that I find in classrooms or such, so long as they fit my requirements (not pink). I mourn when I lose an eraser. Oftentimes, I do not begin using another eraser for a month or so after which I have given up hope of finding the old one. I like to think that an eraser will find its way back to me.
--
Third Metaphor: Video Games
I enjoy playing console games. I generally play games within the "JRPG" ("Japanese Role-Playing Game") genre. When I tell people that I play RPGs, often I am asked if I have played such games as "Mass Effect" or other western RPGs, at which I am tempted to sneer and make remarks about how I only play good games. I am a game elitist, and if a game is not made by the right company or played on the right console or does not have music composed by the right video game composer or any one of countless flaws, then I will not even think about it. I might, however, if a good friend whose taste in video games I trust recommends me to play a particular game outside my interests.
I often start games and don't finish them. When I am enjoying a game, I think of playing no other game. My mind is focused entirely on that one game until it is finished. If I am not enjoying any particular game, then I leisurely take hour-long sits at various games until one perks my interest or until I have no more hours to sit for. Sometimes this can take months, and at other times I go from intense game to intense game without a waiting period.
I love playing games alone. When people come and watch me play, I feel disturbed, as if a sacred process is being ruined by the eyes of those who do not understand. Yet, I will not complain or say anything to those who come by to watch, as it would be unfair of me to disallow the game to be viewed from afar while I am playing. I would never let somebody play a game that I am currently playing, as I am currently playing it.
--
Fourth Metaphor: You, You, You and Me
I usually remain at a distance in mind and body, as I find it most healthy to keep myself intact this way. We engage in conversations that I begin and that you end. When I see you, it is by expected routine, and may be a formality or businesslike event. Rarely, we meet by chance, and at these times I allow my distance to unremain. We will exchange banter. I will attempt to impersonate a cultured and well-informed gentleman of wise remarks yet cool demeanor. You will thoughtlessly brush off my intentioned queries with brusqueness or simply ignorance. I will leave having enjoyed good company, and you will leave having accomplished some schoolwork, a drop in the bucket. Afterwards, I disallow my distance to unremain. Rinse and repeat.
I constantly skirt the edge of danger, as I am often too tempted to step away, yet too frightened to leap. When we converse, the words contain hidden actions, and the hidden actions speak words. If I reveal a bit too much of my hand, you fold, and if you raise the pot, I fold. Neither of us seem to be in it to win, but only to wheedle and tease from each other bits and pieces that neither satisfy nor discourage. I think often of letting you know that I am actually smiling under all the masked looks, but I am afraid that when you lower your guise, your eyes will be looking past me. So, we act only the roles in a script that entertains on the television screen but holds no meaning for real people, as spinning around and around each other endlessly is no real way to grow together.
I am half of the time sprinting towards you, and the other half of the time stopped to catch my breath as you dash out of reach. I started out pretty far away, but even as I chase you, I am not sure if I am even headed in the right direction. This leaves me confused and apprehensive at taking even a single step, and so often I don't. All I am sure of at these times is that you are moving farther away. Whenever I shout, you hear me and respond, and I hear you nearby, ever so close, but of course, I cannot run and shout at the same time. Somewhere in the my deepest beliefs, I hold your happiness higher than my own, and so I am content to simply run endlessly, fruitlessly, speaking up only to remind you that you are going the wrong way every now and then. I have no certainty that I will ever rendezvous with you, but I do know that I will love you, wherever you are and wherever you go.
--
Note: One of these is not really a metaphor.
--
First Metaphor: Headphones
I have worn during my life many pairs of headphones. The cheapest headphones that I bought and used for more than one day cost me 12 dollars, while the most expensive cost me 85 dollars. There are headphones out there for as cheap as 5 dollars, and there are others which are as expensive as 500 dollars or more.
The 12 dollar pair, I wore for a summer while working because I had no way of getting better headphones, but I hated them and myself for hearing such poor quality sound. Still, when you are without option, you take what you can get, and later try not to think about it. Afterwards, I realized that I was better off with silence. The 85 dollar pair is a set of noise canceling headphones from Sony. I have a thing with Sony. Sony is just my style; I don't feel as complete if my headphones are not Sony, regardless of form or function. In any case, these headphones, though expensive, did not deliver all that I had hoped for. They looked great and had excellent specs, yet upon use proved lacking in bass, painful over the ears after an hour, and to have a double wire which twists uncontrollably. Overall, I am stuck with them due to the price I paid, the investment put in.
Of these headphones, the one I most enjoyed using was a beat up pair of 30 dollar Sony MDR-EX55LP earbuds that I used for over 1.5 years before the cord finally wore out and music stopped issuing into my left ear. This is how life goes when you have found something truly great, that fits like a silk glove. That is, the headphones died after tough usage, and I was forced to part with much sorrow. That pair still sits in my desk drawer though now defunct, as I am unable to bear trashing an item that I treasured for so long.
--
Second Metaphor: Office Supplies
I am very particular about my office supplies. This includes but is not limited to pens, pencils, erasers, staplers, tape dispensers, scissors, and markers. My general rule is that once I have found something, I will use it until it can no longer function as I desire. If you were to offer me a 100 dollar fountain pen, I would not be able to bring myself to use it until I finished off the pen that I am currently working on. I mean, using.
There are exceptions to this, of course. At times, a pen fresh from the pack will produce streaky marks for a page or so, at which point I become ambivalent to the pen. I place it in a special compartment of my desk pen-holder, and each time I use up a pen or find another streaky pen, I try the old pen again. After five or six tries, I give up and toss the pen, though very reluctantly. I have at times reached into my garbage in order to give the pen another try, because I see it lying there full of ink and ready to be used, yet when I put it to paper I am again disappointed.
Erasers deserve a special attention, as the use of an eraser molds its future shape. I loathe pink erasers; my preferred eraser is the "plastic eraser" type, which is white and erases as if it is greased. If the eraser comes to me in its wrapper, I do not remove the wrapper even if the eraser becomes too short to use. If an eraser comes to me without its wrapper, I use it until it reaches a size so small so as to be unusable. I then very uncomfortably use the next eraser in line. I am not against using stray erasers that I find in classrooms or such, so long as they fit my requirements (not pink). I mourn when I lose an eraser. Oftentimes, I do not begin using another eraser for a month or so after which I have given up hope of finding the old one. I like to think that an eraser will find its way back to me.
--
Third Metaphor: Video Games
I enjoy playing console games. I generally play games within the "JRPG" ("Japanese Role-Playing Game") genre. When I tell people that I play RPGs, often I am asked if I have played such games as "Mass Effect" or other western RPGs, at which I am tempted to sneer and make remarks about how I only play good games. I am a game elitist, and if a game is not made by the right company or played on the right console or does not have music composed by the right video game composer or any one of countless flaws, then I will not even think about it. I might, however, if a good friend whose taste in video games I trust recommends me to play a particular game outside my interests.
I often start games and don't finish them. When I am enjoying a game, I think of playing no other game. My mind is focused entirely on that one game until it is finished. If I am not enjoying any particular game, then I leisurely take hour-long sits at various games until one perks my interest or until I have no more hours to sit for. Sometimes this can take months, and at other times I go from intense game to intense game without a waiting period.
I love playing games alone. When people come and watch me play, I feel disturbed, as if a sacred process is being ruined by the eyes of those who do not understand. Yet, I will not complain or say anything to those who come by to watch, as it would be unfair of me to disallow the game to be viewed from afar while I am playing. I would never let somebody play a game that I am currently playing, as I am currently playing it.
--
Fourth Metaphor: You, You, You and Me
I usually remain at a distance in mind and body, as I find it most healthy to keep myself intact this way. We engage in conversations that I begin and that you end. When I see you, it is by expected routine, and may be a formality or businesslike event. Rarely, we meet by chance, and at these times I allow my distance to unremain. We will exchange banter. I will attempt to impersonate a cultured and well-informed gentleman of wise remarks yet cool demeanor. You will thoughtlessly brush off my intentioned queries with brusqueness or simply ignorance. I will leave having enjoyed good company, and you will leave having accomplished some schoolwork, a drop in the bucket. Afterwards, I disallow my distance to unremain. Rinse and repeat.
I constantly skirt the edge of danger, as I am often too tempted to step away, yet too frightened to leap. When we converse, the words contain hidden actions, and the hidden actions speak words. If I reveal a bit too much of my hand, you fold, and if you raise the pot, I fold. Neither of us seem to be in it to win, but only to wheedle and tease from each other bits and pieces that neither satisfy nor discourage. I think often of letting you know that I am actually smiling under all the masked looks, but I am afraid that when you lower your guise, your eyes will be looking past me. So, we act only the roles in a script that entertains on the television screen but holds no meaning for real people, as spinning around and around each other endlessly is no real way to grow together.
I am half of the time sprinting towards you, and the other half of the time stopped to catch my breath as you dash out of reach. I started out pretty far away, but even as I chase you, I am not sure if I am even headed in the right direction. This leaves me confused and apprehensive at taking even a single step, and so often I don't. All I am sure of at these times is that you are moving farther away. Whenever I shout, you hear me and respond, and I hear you nearby, ever so close, but of course, I cannot run and shout at the same time. Somewhere in the my deepest beliefs, I hold your happiness higher than my own, and so I am content to simply run endlessly, fruitlessly, speaking up only to remind you that you are going the wrong way every now and then. I have no certainty that I will ever rendezvous with you, but I do know that I will love you, wherever you are and wherever you go.
--
Note: One of these is not really a metaphor.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Some of My Recent Thoughts (With Humor)
Today, I learned that people around me don't play by the rules, and that I don't either. I tried to correct myself and play by the rules after I didn't play by the rules, but instead I just felt cheap and the guilt stayed with me. I wonder if other people have experienced this. Never before have I cheated and immediately attempted to rectify the situation by reversing my action, and never have I felt so cheated by my simple desire to be a better person. I am a worse person, and there is nothing I can really do about it.
Sometimes, I am at peace with the world. At these times, I take my hands off the wheel and let it coast. The car drifts left and right, but I am not perturbed. My brain is not quiet, because I'm not just zoning out. I am wondering and pondering, and somehow each piece fits into the next.
Everything feels better if you put the word "together" after it. For example, if I were to come up to you and say, "I feel bad that we lied to our mutual friend, so let's apologize", you would probably reply with "Let's go play video games until our eyeballs fall out." But if I asked you, "I feel bad that we lied to our mutual friend, let's apologize together", you would probably drop whatever you were doing and take my hand and run to our mutual friend to apologize. Later, I would find you furiously writing a letter to the president lobbying for world peace while also starting first round drug trials for a miracle cancer drug, which you developed. Don't forget my cut.
A human brain, or as far as I can tell, can only think about one thing at a time. Processors nowadays can think about four or more things simultaneously. Can you imagine if you were able to think about four things at a time? Of course not, because you can't. It's like trying to think about what the fifth dimension looks like, or the sixth. To me, it's like trying to think like a woman.
I am currently listening to the encore track from Daft Punk's Alive 2007 CD, and I must say, it's quite remarkable. Perhaps this is because the current worries and cares that I hold are not a match for the swelling and throbbing. Someday, I want to make music like this. Even if I don't, I will be just as content to listen, as I am now doing.
I readily admit that nowadays I am not even concerned with finding a girl with pretty hair and kind eyes that will cook my eggs in the morning. I swear that I am not nor have not been thinking about where I can locate this girl who can indulge me in a round of video games every now and then yet also seriously and contentiously pick out our furniture and drapes and so on with me. I love decorating. Also, I'm definitely not at all worried about meeting a girl that will lean on my shoulder during a movie or even whenever and tell me to sleep at reasonable times because she is worried for my health. Finally, I am certainly not at all trying to actively search for a girl that will smile when I hand her flowers or squeeze back when our hands are together. I am not a romantic. I firmly believe that there is more to life than being married and loving your spouse dearly. I have greater ambitions than living happily in a medium-sized home with children running around in the yard. I have dreams more than these simple things, because I want more out of life than those small and sweet moments of love.
The smallest things take us out of our happy, satisfied state. Frustration comes knocking at my gate each time I give release to each of my small petty desires. Perhaps "crashing" should replace "knocking". My tongue is loosed, and my emotions run free. I hold such contradicting values at import: finesse and strength, tact and directness, effusiveness and reserve. My feelings beg me to both crush and sooth, and I am torn between being a vacuum and an explosion.
Sometimes, I am reduced to an eight-year-old by the enormity of the situation occurring around me. Beforehand, I always imagine that difficult situations will force me to suddenly gain incredible composure and tact, and that I will know exactly what to say and what to do, so that everybody around me will be amazed. Also, I would be able to fly, move things with my mind, shoot laser beams from my forehead, and understand women. If you're going to gain something that you didn't have before in an imaginary world, go all the way, or else you're just shortchanging yourself. Don't get shortchanged in your own imaginary world.
Every day I am growing and understanding more the people around me, including myself. The lesson reinforced here, though somewhat contradictory, is that I am learning nothing and everything. To learn is to admit not knowing, as belief in knowing is resigning to not learning. When I say to myself, "Hey, I think you've understood that person a bit more", what I've really done is to put in my mind a giant sign in front of the path to knowledge of that person that says "Hey, you've decided that you know something, so you can't travel this road anymore." I'm really starting to dislike this construction company.
I'm tired of being tired of things. I don't want to complain about how terrible this person is, or how awful the recent course of events that I've experienced is, or how unfortunate it is that blah blah blah blah blah blah blah I've heard this story a million times so now I'll just nod and say "Yea, that sucks". I'm tired of myself. I'm tired of being a hypocrite and not being able to grab the nearest person to me and scream into his surprised face, "I'm an idiot!", because I sorely need to do this all the time. Maybe I will wear a sheet of paper on my back that says "Kick Me" without a specification why, since the majority of the time I'm about due for somebody to suggest that I shut up and stop whining.
If I can find a girl who can go on this date with me, I will marry her: We'll meet after eating something, because being hungry ruins everything. We will go lie down on a hill together, and hold hands, and stare at the clouds going by. We will be happy without having to ask one another, "Are you enjoying this?" She will not ask me, "Is this a picnic?" I will not ever say "When do you want to go?" We will both turn off our cell phones, which is an amazing idea, by the way. Afterwards, we will get up and go home, and I will not be worried about whether or not this is the right girl, and she will not be worried about whether or not various bugs crawled into her hair. This will only work on a sunny day in a green meadow, so if there are no more sunny days for a long time or no more green meadows (God forbid) then I will not be getting married for a long time. Some other day, not related to the previous one, she will show up to my door and knock with her closed fist, and I will answer the door, and she will ask me "Do you want to take a walk?" and I will say "Sure".
As much as ocean waves are credited for being constant, when has any particular wave ever been the same as any other particular wave? The shore is never the same as it was before, and so none of us are ever the same as the last time. Indeed, even when I listen again to this track, it is different, though the bits encoded in the data are perhaps not changed. There is emotion and feeling attached and embedded in this song, and they are not immutable. My head bobs up and down with each beat, but it does not repeat the same motion ever, not even if I did this for all eternity. We do not live lives of drudgery that repeat endlessly, and we are not suffering lives of boredom that wind down and down until we die. We are vibrant beings of change, ever moving and ever shifting to new positions, thinking new thoughts, developing new experiences, and growing new relationships. We are alive.
Sometimes, I am at peace with the world. At these times, I take my hands off the wheel and let it coast. The car drifts left and right, but I am not perturbed. My brain is not quiet, because I'm not just zoning out. I am wondering and pondering, and somehow each piece fits into the next.
Everything feels better if you put the word "together" after it. For example, if I were to come up to you and say, "I feel bad that we lied to our mutual friend, so let's apologize", you would probably reply with "Let's go play video games until our eyeballs fall out." But if I asked you, "I feel bad that we lied to our mutual friend, let's apologize together", you would probably drop whatever you were doing and take my hand and run to our mutual friend to apologize. Later, I would find you furiously writing a letter to the president lobbying for world peace while also starting first round drug trials for a miracle cancer drug, which you developed. Don't forget my cut.
A human brain, or as far as I can tell, can only think about one thing at a time. Processors nowadays can think about four or more things simultaneously. Can you imagine if you were able to think about four things at a time? Of course not, because you can't. It's like trying to think about what the fifth dimension looks like, or the sixth. To me, it's like trying to think like a woman.
I am currently listening to the encore track from Daft Punk's Alive 2007 CD, and I must say, it's quite remarkable. Perhaps this is because the current worries and cares that I hold are not a match for the swelling and throbbing. Someday, I want to make music like this. Even if I don't, I will be just as content to listen, as I am now doing.
I readily admit that nowadays I am not even concerned with finding a girl with pretty hair and kind eyes that will cook my eggs in the morning. I swear that I am not nor have not been thinking about where I can locate this girl who can indulge me in a round of video games every now and then yet also seriously and contentiously pick out our furniture and drapes and so on with me. I love decorating. Also, I'm definitely not at all worried about meeting a girl that will lean on my shoulder during a movie or even whenever and tell me to sleep at reasonable times because she is worried for my health. Finally, I am certainly not at all trying to actively search for a girl that will smile when I hand her flowers or squeeze back when our hands are together. I am not a romantic. I firmly believe that there is more to life than being married and loving your spouse dearly. I have greater ambitions than living happily in a medium-sized home with children running around in the yard. I have dreams more than these simple things, because I want more out of life than those small and sweet moments of love.
The smallest things take us out of our happy, satisfied state. Frustration comes knocking at my gate each time I give release to each of my small petty desires. Perhaps "crashing" should replace "knocking". My tongue is loosed, and my emotions run free. I hold such contradicting values at import: finesse and strength, tact and directness, effusiveness and reserve. My feelings beg me to both crush and sooth, and I am torn between being a vacuum and an explosion.
Sometimes, I am reduced to an eight-year-old by the enormity of the situation occurring around me. Beforehand, I always imagine that difficult situations will force me to suddenly gain incredible composure and tact, and that I will know exactly what to say and what to do, so that everybody around me will be amazed. Also, I would be able to fly, move things with my mind, shoot laser beams from my forehead, and understand women. If you're going to gain something that you didn't have before in an imaginary world, go all the way, or else you're just shortchanging yourself. Don't get shortchanged in your own imaginary world.
Every day I am growing and understanding more the people around me, including myself. The lesson reinforced here, though somewhat contradictory, is that I am learning nothing and everything. To learn is to admit not knowing, as belief in knowing is resigning to not learning. When I say to myself, "Hey, I think you've understood that person a bit more", what I've really done is to put in my mind a giant sign in front of the path to knowledge of that person that says "Hey, you've decided that you know something, so you can't travel this road anymore." I'm really starting to dislike this construction company.
I'm tired of being tired of things. I don't want to complain about how terrible this person is, or how awful the recent course of events that I've experienced is, or how unfortunate it is that blah blah blah blah blah blah blah I've heard this story a million times so now I'll just nod and say "Yea, that sucks". I'm tired of myself. I'm tired of being a hypocrite and not being able to grab the nearest person to me and scream into his surprised face, "I'm an idiot!", because I sorely need to do this all the time. Maybe I will wear a sheet of paper on my back that says "Kick Me" without a specification why, since the majority of the time I'm about due for somebody to suggest that I shut up and stop whining.
If I can find a girl who can go on this date with me, I will marry her: We'll meet after eating something, because being hungry ruins everything. We will go lie down on a hill together, and hold hands, and stare at the clouds going by. We will be happy without having to ask one another, "Are you enjoying this?" She will not ask me, "Is this a picnic?" I will not ever say "When do you want to go?" We will both turn off our cell phones, which is an amazing idea, by the way. Afterwards, we will get up and go home, and I will not be worried about whether or not this is the right girl, and she will not be worried about whether or not various bugs crawled into her hair. This will only work on a sunny day in a green meadow, so if there are no more sunny days for a long time or no more green meadows (God forbid) then I will not be getting married for a long time. Some other day, not related to the previous one, she will show up to my door and knock with her closed fist, and I will answer the door, and she will ask me "Do you want to take a walk?" and I will say "Sure".
As much as ocean waves are credited for being constant, when has any particular wave ever been the same as any other particular wave? The shore is never the same as it was before, and so none of us are ever the same as the last time. Indeed, even when I listen again to this track, it is different, though the bits encoded in the data are perhaps not changed. There is emotion and feeling attached and embedded in this song, and they are not immutable. My head bobs up and down with each beat, but it does not repeat the same motion ever, not even if I did this for all eternity. We do not live lives of drudgery that repeat endlessly, and we are not suffering lives of boredom that wind down and down until we die. We are vibrant beings of change, ever moving and ever shifting to new positions, thinking new thoughts, developing new experiences, and growing new relationships. We are alive.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
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