Harmony Requires Sacrifice

Here I am, taking a weekend to drive across the state. Not to say I won't enjoy it. But there are moments, where I just can't wrap my head around some idea of being a good son. I mean, sure, every parent has certain expectations, but I think that my parents didn't expect anything from me. So therefor, I am a success. Which is really more of a default. I mean, looking at my sister as a freshman in high school, I see her as having exponentially more potential than I. Not to say I feel worthless. Far from it. I see my worth as novelty and sincerity, with a hint of the absurd. But she seems like she might one day, I don't know, cure cancer or create a just system of law.

However, I feel that once we start attaching worth to various traits, it's a weird way to view things. How much is this relationship worth? How much are my friends worth? How much are we worth to society? Quite frankly, I don't want to know. And I don't thing we should know. Imagine people walking around knowing they are worth nothing. TRRBL.

I would like to think you really can't figure out worth until the moment of worth. Sure, that kid who sits in the back of the room and doesn't talk seems like a waste, but wait until he makes that insightful comment. Or the moment when the seemingly ridiculously annoying kid gets a slot on a radio talk show, etc. Insert your own example here.

And don't even get me started on what it means to be "worth" something to society. Stupid society. And its "values". and "quotation marks".

Future Perfect?

I have been forcibly confronted more and more with the prospect of being a non-student. It is weird to look out on the vast horizon that is my future, and many landmarks are missing. I thought that once I graduated I could go bother my pals in Seattle more. But by the time I'm done, they are already off doing their thing.
I can't help but be nostalgic, sitting here listening to my Kung Fu Panda soundtrack. Not that it has a direct connection, but the melodies make me think of the things that were.
I've been a student my entire life. And I don't just mean in the cliche "You are always learning" bologna. I mean attending class and such. It's nuts to be on the outside of that. To be this....this 'adult' thing that everyone else talks about being.
I just really don't know what to expect.

Ode to Medea

At long last, I am finally able to articulate this seemingly irrational hate for all things her. It took me running into her annoying high school friend on campus that I was able to envision this inner tension. I hate that I gave so much, and you acknowledged it so little. I know I shouldn't be bitter, and I'm not. Or at least, I try not to be. But some moments, I get so caught up in myself, that I fall back into old habits.

Damn Paper

I have done nothing (mentally) but been plotting the eventual firing of a professor I am taking. 4 credits, and 300 level, and he wants 5-6 hours a week of our time, and ridiculous 3 ridiculous 12 page papers. With copious amounts of specific references to everything we have been watching. It sounds, from an outside perspective, that the paper would write itself. But you would be wrong. And really, I have other classes to be putting off. Honestly, I won't be pleased until his head resides on a pike in the parking lot of my apartment building.

.08

After watching Venture Bros, I have come to the realization that most cartoons that we watch as children are NOT funny. Not to say that there are some exceptions, but for the most part, they are in-fact adventure oriented. A character leaves town, and the episode begins. They do not alter to humor. They instead follow the idea keeping a 3rd grader's attention span. Nothing against any old TV show. Aahhh! Real Monsters. Kudos. Legends of the Hidden/Forbidden Temple. Good work. Angry Beavers, you still make me laugh. As a community of people who have grown up with cartoons, we need to realize that cartoons, as we knew them, were not intended to make us laugh as adults, but to make us watch as children.

In short: Angry Beavers rule. Don't download an entire seaon of a cartoon untill you know what you are getting into.

Change

Preface: This poem is not intentionally about any political party.

Change wasn't what I told it was. As I child I saw change as this force, this entity that strode through life usurping governments, and making people fall in love. It's what I feared when the Beatles sang about "Love has a nasty habit, Of disappearing overnight".
As I child, I didn't notice change because it didn't register. I didn't see things around me shifting from new to old. The gradual shifts from green to red to blue to orange. Change was a new television show advertised. What happened to the old shows? "What old shows?" I asked.
Most recently I have come to this conclusion that Change is the entropic force on life. It happens while we sleep, with freedom fighters preforming an act to gain standing in world politics. The change happens while we eat breakfast, with the Supreme Court allowing corporations to openly sponsor candidates. Change is not this fantasy idea that as children. These major shifts. It is the little that constantly moves. The grains of sand that each stacks upon the next. It is the water/pressure acting on the Earth that slowly makes (insert geologic phenomena here). Every second that ticks past, Change has happened. The inevitable. The idea that the person that started writing this post no longer exists, and that someone mildly new is replacing him. Like a computer system, with infinite updates leading to the eventual hive-mind of laptops and Xboxs everywhere.

A short recap: Change is not what we as children thought it was, but is none-the-less inevitable. And beware the Xbox uprising.

Now back to your regularly scheduled programing.

A new direction? Or just a blip in the old direction?

Anyhoo, this evening, I went with my roommate to an author talking about his book. I didn't know this author before, nor do I feel too inclined to read his book after. However, he did emphasize the idea that practicing, and mimicking, are important steps of the writing process. In lieu of his surprisingly inspirational presentation, I will try my hand at writing. I make no promises on things being totally false, or totally true, or even in-between the two opposites. I can only promise that I will write when I can, and about whatever I see fit.
Thus ends my mission statement, v.2