interrogation: forced agenda

bouts of depression are hard. they can floor you, keep you subdued, separated, withdrawn. whenver i'm feeling depressed it's usually a battle against myself. the power of self pity can latch on good when it gets going. so, what do i do? write a screenplay, express myself creatively? something like that, maybe write a little blog entry, uninspired. i used to draw. i came home from work yesterday, threw everything off of my bed and laid down. i thought, when will things change? will things be different? didn't last long. that 70s show was one i've seen many times before.

i remember a little bit of minoriteam on adult swim, then i remember waking up in the middle of the night and it was on again. time for bed

woke up and the sun is bright. maury lounges around. i sit at the buzzing box. the news tells me that people died when a ship sunk and there was an earthquake in iran killing 50 or so. oh yeah, and matt leblanc and his wife are separating.

i'm officially out of coffee this morning. guess i'll have to brave the store at some point. i don't want to hide but i guess i have to run this relapse out. i really don't want to go back on antidepressants. i swear i'm just now starting to get my sex drive back, don't take it from me again!!! maybe i should write a song actually out instead of just noodle around in my head. maybe i should balance my checkbook and do my taxes.

the chirping birds and the warm spring sun, buffy, bud, and the big cheese. joe's there too. we wait for the hours to pass, simmering passively under the unaligned coil of an aging lava lamp. so sense in wasting electricity. no one to listen to. . . no one to tell.

unfortunate. . . alone

i really wanted to write something here. mind is too cluttered. i sat here and stared at this blog entry for a few minutes and realized i couldn't properly organize my thoughts. so i guess the blog will have to wait.

repetitive behavior influences subconscious deviance

i haven't written anything on this damn thing in ages. don't really have much to say. time goes by so fast. the week is almost half over. the pattern is so boring. habitual, repetitive behaviors. i promise adam, i'll write something here later when i have more time.

dog in a monkey suit

I write this as I sit at work, wondering what the evening will bring me,waiting for the phone to ring with some silly problem I have to deal with.I shudder to think of the level of ignorance I deal with daily. Homerstares at me from my desk, people chatter about this and that and the otherthing, the weather, etc. It slowly becomes evident that the day isclosing. . . stupid interruptions. . . ok where was I? well nowhere inparticular, just ranting, raving, wasting time, existing, etc. Round foureveryday is about when I feel the most desire to go do something. Whetherit be something rewarding for myself, or a necessary chore, now seems aboutthe time to go get it done. Cause by the time that six shows up, I justwant to go home, sit on my butt, watch tv, etc, you know, not think aboutthe mindless droning of office/cublicle daily life. It becomes harder andharder to ignore the background static, the chatter through the wires picksup occasional words, phrases, feelings intoned orally. I hide in moments,feelings - pretty blonde girl walks across the parking lot as I finish mycigarette on the walk back to work. No eye contact, fumbling around in herbag, the wind picks up her coattails and caresses her hair toweightlessness. Seconds later, alone again. March is half over, April approaches, then May, June, etc. Months grow warmer and colder with such frequency. I wonder what's on tv tonite? Maybe something worth my time,unknown, idiot box, work chatter continues, new office carpet coming. ..etc.

I really think that I need another vacation. I need to escape to a faraway place, and though I, in practice, do not really have much of a hecticsocial/professional agenda to stall out awhile, simple anonymous behavior without even familiar, albeit unknown faces sounds appealing. No familiarvoices, sounds, static, just myself amongst a sea of invisible obstaclesand accomodating smiles. . . oh yeah, and someplace warm, balmy, tropical,steel drum-esque. But where to go? What to do? How about a Corona commercial? that sounds nice.

I wonder what all the invisible people who work here surmise about me. Itend to think I carry myself with an air of purpose, even though nothing could be further from the truth most of the time. I try consciously toreflect calm confidence, to appear as I "don't need this shit, but willquietly tolerate as I construct my own agenda". That is sort of a halftruth in itself. My agenda is rather simple, straightforward. It defends me against roving eyes, amidst sideways glances and hushed conversation.Though I am quite confident that my presence calls forth no alerts, I, asan extremely self-conscious individual, as are most people intelligent enough to be aware of themselves, of their conscious existence, their space they fill at any given time. It sounds simple, but I'll be damned if youdon't run into at least a few people daily who don't seem to have any clue how ridiculous they are acting/sounding. It astounds me. At first I wouldsay it comes with age, but there are just as many idiots in every age bracket you can think of. Maybe some are just better at not caring than others. Whether or not that's a good thing, that I can't tell you.

You know you're in trouble when you just feel like buying yourselfsomething. Some bauble, item, keepsake, something to arouse the societal imprinting of the need for materialization, to own, to collect, horde,have. I doubt I will. If i do anything I need to go to the grocery storeand get myself food. Ah, there's an idea, spend my money on food! Something I can use and enjoy, in a fleeting, yet necessary way. I canthink of all sorts of things I'd like to buy myself. I would love a new acoustic guitar, nothing fancy, just something bout' one fifty or so that sounds and feels different, something that comes alive with new sound, never listened to before, a crisp treble bellows out from behind the mahogany and vibrating steel. As keen as I am on this idea I doubt I'd useit as much as I should/would. Normally I would blow leisure dollars on avideogame, but that interest escapes me greatly lately. Perhaps I am growing up. . . somewhat.

So many people do nothing all day. They stand around, looking stupid.That's their job you know. To be there with their hands in their pocketsbeing in the way, shoulders slighty drooping, no spark of life whatever.Poster child for, "what else could I be doing right now not related to this?" I am one of those people as well as you. It's exponentially more complicated than that. But much like a speeding ticket, it really doesn'tmatter how long you've been speeding, just don't pass the cop while yer doing it. Officer Bob doesn't care if you just accelerated past the semifor visibility twelve seconds ago, or you've been tearing ass down I-70 forninety five minutes. He saw you right now, and you were breaking the law. Bob has done his job, so what else could I be doing?

It's funny how loneliness comes and goes. Somedays you need someone arounddesperately, others you relish the quiet. Sometimes you find that endorphin rush that accompanies a moment of mental clarity and everythingseems to be manageable and attainable and fairly laid out. And just asquickly as it comes, it's gone. Too much work now. I'm done.

Hail to the Chief

This is not my car - just an example - a poor one - of the weather of this weekend.
Anyone in Columbia this weekend probably suffered the wrath of mother nature's whims at some point. We got what many consider the worst hailstorm in memory, along with multiple tornado sirens. Welcome to missouri, home of the twenty minute death storm. Some hailstones were almost as large as golf balls, or at least shooter marbles, (remember marbles?) and they beat so hard against my door I thought my apartment was set to implode. Soon thereafter, it stopped, and i assessed the new damage to my car. Now pockmarked with many tiny dents, It is moderately disappointing. I guess it could be worse, after the storm I went back over to a friend's house and most of the northside siding is shot and he lost mulitiple windows. At least I didn't lose a window, god damn that woulda sucked.

The streets covered with tree debris and whatnot, I drove home around ten, the sky ablaze with the rumbles and flashes of the next northern cell approaching. I come home hoping to find a cat on my doorstep, guess he was holed up somewhere all night. At least he knows where to go to protect himself.

Well now it's monday, another workweek approaches, and let me tell you I am not all that happy about it. Just one more day of hooky sounds so appealing, alas, going to work is a necessary evil. The bud is almost gone and the anitdepressants long long gone months before, yet sometimes I feel it would really help to try em again. Then again, my angst and discomfort are a helpful sorce of energy and wit, without which I find myself considerably more complacent, willing to shrug it all off. I doubt a psycho-cocktail will fix my mind actually. It only helps for a little while, this little thing called tolerance forces our bodies to crank it up. I don't really need that. Okay, well my meteorological commentary kind of turned into self serving whining, damn I need to work on averting that more often. But then again, the words are just typed as they come, so don't blame ME! Blame my brain. Time to get ready for work.

Selective Breeding

This Human has a dog head! Wwwaaaaauuuuugggghhhh!!??!!?

On Existence

What does religion do for us? Does religion solve our problems, guide us on our quests, keep us moral, good, content? Yes is does. Religion is very good at that. If for no other reason, religion lets us know that there is an entity out there that honestly gives a damn about us as people, as a living, breathing, existing universal recorder for the great beyond. Since we were unlucky enough to be spawned from the heavens with all favorable biological attributes in such a remote area of out galaxy, within itself creating perhaps a grand biological joke that the great creator may have been able to knowingly change, within itself creating even more pressing questions about the motives of our gods, we are so far unable to intelligently contact other forms of live in our great universe. Perhaps the heavens are out there, locatable within the outer reaches of space and time. Perhaps we, as humans are just not yet capable of reaching these goals as a community, perhaps time will work with us on this great test.

I consider this to be a very exciting time in the span of technological advancement. We are just beginning to develop the tools necessary to explore our skies, and I regret only that enough is not being done in my lifetime to tour the great beyond our mother earth, and that too much internal bickering is still going on in our primitive minds to find the way more clearly before my era is up. Our ability to know and process our surroundings in a unique way made us the dominant force of our floating rock, and as a result I can now do things like type on a keyboard words and then post them in a virtual library for any and all to read. A concept in and of itself beyond comprehension, the internet, put that's for another rant at another time. Our ability to do all sorts of things comprehensibly, to think abstractly and creatively, to make and learn in a way no other creature on our planet can, is a gift and a terrible curse. To be given a window to look out of without a door, we constantly are peeking at what could be more.

But it also swings both ways. we're allowed to become passive, to not question. In fact, it's encouraged, because not only are we great creatures, we're terrible ones. We take and push ourselves towards our own agendas. We ARE allowed to think abstractly, and to stay there indefinitely. We can create our own purposes, we can live entirely within fantasy, we can find ways around thought, since others have thought enough for those to follow their revolutions.

I'm not sure what I need, but I know what we need as a conscious entity. Problem is, not everyone would agree with me. And the problem with that is, they are allowed to not agree with me, and I tolerate it, because, people are allowed to disagree, a concept that I support as a practice of law and society, but moreover all it does on a grander scale is create more slack, more what if's and less what are's. It fosters a simmering idealism and dialogue, to find better ways, to find the answers to our questions. What it doesn't do, unfortunately, is create the variable outside of the box. The second opinion. The outside intervention, the ref, the Supreme Court ruling. Whether it be god, the aliens, a catastrophic celestial event, ie. meteor, solar flare, moon explodes, etc, or some talking sea creature we haven't discovered yet, we are forced to figure it out on our own. Cause for whatever reason, god only likes talking to certain people. And an awful lot of them don't want us to all benefit from it.

. . .

Separatist Theorem vs. Moral Majority

Happy Birthday Adam! In just a few hours you will officially be 27 years old. My father was 27 when he met my mother, and they have been married over 30 years. I can only dream of that kind of assurance. I mean, me? I still argue with my own opinions constantly. I long for a future that's more concrete, something I can run my hand down and feel as real and dependable.

Thoughts regarding Good Will Hunting:

Movie was on Encore last night, the only premium movie channel that I get here on Mediacom. I ended up watching almost the entire movie, starting in at the point when Will meets Skylar in the bar, defending his friend Assfleck from the menacing pony-tail intellectual. For all the tired hype that eminates from Miramax's apparently oscarworthy starmaker, there is a good movie beneath, probably facilitated by what I consider Robin William's most likely greatest and most likable role.

Even though you may not relate directly to Will's knowledge trauma, and may find it difficult to imagine that all the characters in the movie are supposed to be in their very very early twenties, feelings that the movie coddles within you are probably universal. the age old story of a longing love both chased and pushed away at some point must have creeped into your mind. Perhaps the most likey theme of the movie is not to squander your talents, and to chase after the flickering lights and not sit on your ass. Anyway, I enoyed in last nite, or at least was in the right frame of mind to enjoy it. I guess the hit that resonated was at the end when will gets a car and it sort of becomes apparent that he is only 21. Here I am now - six years his character's senior. In the same personal struggle - unsure of what I 'want'

As all the other years of my twenties have passed by in majority, I look at 27 with a new clarity. There is more of a clashing between my inert separatism and moral compass. Age is slowly becoming a more prevalent psychological barb, and I can feel it's sting settling deeper in my soul. I think with a little push, this year will prove itself a stepping stone in accepting 'sir', and the responsibilities of the title. Well, out of time.

So Blog It.

Hello, and welcome to Adam's new personal blog. I sometimes feel the need to post random nonsense, and so here's my new medium to do so.