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| Who doesn't, right? So I wait 'til the last minute to do things, it's not the end of the world. Besides, I work well under pressure.
However, if you compound my age-old nemesis, procrastination, with my new friend, forgetfulness, you have combination capable of destroying and disrupting life as you know it.
I feel I'm losing control. I'm not on time for anything anymore, I'm always grasping for just a little more time to sit on the couch and be comfortable, even if it's a few seconds (literally, I've reached that point). Also, when I do decide to leave, I end up walking out the door and back in a number of times due to my forgetfulness. I'll get in my car and realize I don't have my cellphone, or my iPod, or my books, or my guitar, or my wallet, or my keys. Precious minutes wasted while I walk from garage to kitchen to garage and back again.
I have these plans in my head that I really want to accomplish. I want to start a garden. I want to clean my room. I really want to finish this six-page paper before it's due on thursday. Given my present course, all these goals have a very slim chance of being realized.
I know this for a fact, so I make excuses such as: "All-nighters to finish papers is just part of college." or "I'll have more time tomorrow," or "I just can't get myself to write anything right now, maybe later I'll be in a better mood creatively." I am beginning to realize that all these wonderful lies I tell myself to make myself feel good in the here-and-now are just a bunch of bullshit that hurts me in the long run.
I have hours of free time. I have loads of creativity. I have been blessed with talent in academics ('cept math). I have potential. But if I never get my lazy ass off the couch, what does it matter? I'm sick of seeking my own immediate comfort in exchange for the big picture. I'm sick of living day to day in the vicious cycle of receiving an assignment, procrastinating, hating myself for putting it off for so long, staying up all night to finish it, turning in unpolished work that is nowhere near my best, and just praying for an o.k. grade. Rinse. Repeat.
It's spilling over into my social life too. You can't trust me. You can't count on me. Either I'll forget what you wanted or I'll provide you with the lowest amount of service I can muster without going out of my way or inconveniencing myself. You'd honestly be better off depending on the government than on me. Yes, it's gotten that bad.
Maybe it's just that I'm desperate need of a spring break, but most likely, it's that I need a complete lifestyle change, and considering my current state, I know I can't depend on my own strength to affect that change.
I need God. I need His strength. I need prayer. I need accountability. I need a lot of things. Most of all, I need to stop writing this post and get started on my paper.
[soy un perdidor]
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Supposedly, we live in the greatest country in the world. Our military might surpasses all others. We vote our leaders in and out of office. WE THE PEOPLE often have a direct say in the governing of our lives. Freedom. Independence. Liberty. Prosperity?
Over the past decade, the economy has had its roller-coaster ride of ups and downs, peaks and valleys. The most recent peak came in the 1990's when America was riding the wings of a soaring stock market.
But this was not a time that favored all classes of society. In fact, the lower classes pretty much never get a break or see the fruits of economic growth. While major corporations are reporting record-setting profits, unemployment rates seem to be rising steadily, especially here in Michigan. How does this happen? I shouldn't have to tell you, but I will anyway. Outsourcing. Think about it: You're a CEO of a major corporation, (clothes, shoes, cars, whathaveyou) you put your factories in places like Bangladesh where you only have to pay your workers $0.37 an hour instead of a $9.58 hourly minimum. Then, of course, you ship the product back to the States and sell it for a little more than what you pay your workers per week. Congratulations, you've put thousands of your fellow Americans out of a job while raking in unprecedented profit margins and creating the false impression that the economy is thriving, when really, it's only thriving for you.
You lucky bastard.
But I guess it is true that you have to step on a few (thousand) people to get to the top. Still don't believe me that the little guy always gets screwed? Let me hit you with some statistics.
Say we divided the country into quintiles (five equal parts). Each quintile would represent 20% of the population and would each be designated a "Class". The first quintile representing the lowest fifth of the population, the fifth quintile representing the highest fifth of the population:
Quintile one: The lowest fifth
Percentage of America's total wealth residing within: 3.7%
Quintile five: The highest fifth
Percentage of America's total wealth residing within: 51%
Let's hear it for capitalism...
Mr. Reagan, it's not trickling down...
If this isn't enough for you: Let's say you lined the American profile of wealth distribution with that of other "Industrialized" countries. Well, they don't line up. A typical "Industrial" nation has a much more equal distribution of wealth than us. So what type of profile do we fit best with? None other than that of a developing country. However, the difference between us and say...Somolia, is that our economic inequality is on a much larger scale. The richest of the rich in a developing country might have somewhere in the million to hundred-million range. The latest Forbes numbers show that to be among the richest in our American society, you've gotta have at least ten figures in your yearly income. (That's a billion for those of you who don't know)
Homelessness next to decadence. Nearly Infinite resources, and yet so many are left out on the streets, barely getting by. How does this happen? In a country where nearly everyone claims to be a Christian, this shouldn't be happening. I hate to pull the trump card of religion out, but it's necessary. I've never read anything about Jesus saying, "Blessed is the man with a diversified stock portfolio." or, "You have heard it said that you must love your neighbor and hate your enemy, but I say unto you: make a profit off of both!"
Rather, this is what I've gathered from Jesus' teachings: "Whatever you have done for the least of these, you have done for me."
In fact, the whole of the Bible takes a pretty strong stance on greed. (it's against it.)
Now, I hate to "should" all over you, but in a country where the majority of the population claims to belong to some form of Christianity, people should not have to huddle in cardboard boxes on the street to keep warm.
So I ask: What are you doing about this? What could you be doing about this? When are you gonna get off your lazy ass and start helping people?
These are also the questions that run through my brain too seldom.
But these are our only options. Our government is never going to do anything to solve this problem. The government, as I previously stated, is the corporations' bitch and does almost everything in its power to make sure the companies' interests are met. Including instigating bloody coups in other countries to replace a socialist democracy with a capitalist totalitarian dictatorship just so our oil/beverage/textile/automotive corporations can rape the country's land and people in it in order to make a higher profit margin and maybe give some kickbacks to the government officials who helped them do it -- there's your trickle down economy for you.
And for those of you who think the government is already doing too much to try to solve this problem, step outside of your false presumptions once in a while and experience reality. People need help. Not everyone on welfare is lazy. Not every illegal immigrant is out to take something from you. Not every hurricane or natural disaster is "God's punishment". Not every homeless person on the street is going to use your change to buy booze. Stop asking questions and just open up your heart once in a while.
I challenge you to contribute to an organization, better yet, organize a program to help someone, even if it's just a local community, or a family of four, or just one person, it'll be worth your time.
After all, 'tis the season...
Maybe we can all start something together. I welcome your feedback on this issue.
Again, I apologize for the extreme sporadic and inconsistent nature of this blog site. I've been meaning to post this for a while, but you know how school gets in the way, right?
It's almost over anyways, then I'll be free to write all the time! (disregard this last line if I predictably fail to not deliver another post until sometime in March)
[When I am king, you will be first against the wall] | | |
| The prompt I was given for this next piece was to find a work of visual art and weave from it a complete and flowing scene of fiction. This kind of writing is called: ekphrastic writing.
It got near the deadline, and I still hadn't found a good piece for generating a scene. I googled all the Renaissance masters: Rembrant, Monet, Manet, Degas, Van Gogh, even Da Vinchi. Come on! DA "FREAKIN" VINCHI! Nothin'.
Then I remembered a site that Aaron turned me onto this summer. It's a photoblog of some guy in Chicago who's an amazing photographer and posts a picture a day. [HaHaRadio]
Here's the pic I used:
And here's the ensuing story...
enjoy...
Samantha walked into the room, but David was already there, propping himself up against the doorframe, wearing that same arrogant smile like a pair of old jeans. Samantha was used to seeing him in this position: dressed down, smiling, confident, like he hadn't a care in the world. Everything about him exuded confidence. His hair, his clothes, even the way he entered a room showed that he knew what was going on, that he had it all together, that he was in control, she loved that about him. But tonight, Samantha knew something he didn't.
"Oh, hey Sam. Aren't you supposed to be at work?" He made sure to flash some of his immaculate white teeth as he said this.
Samantha trembled as she drew a breath, "Aren't you?"
"Nah, I decided to duck out a bit early today." Another smug smile slid across his face. "I'm still a little hung over from last night. I was pretty much useless at work, so I just came home."
There was a long, uncomfortable pause.The second hand on the wall clock was deafening.
She had been warned about him in the past, that he was nothing but trouble, that he'd left a trail of broken hearts in his wake and would just end up hurting her like all the rest. And in fact, Samantha had been told by at least two of her girlfriends that he was only in it for the sex and after he had been satisfied or things just got "old"Â, he moved on. But that didn't scare her away, no, instead, she became more interested. And if you asked her then why she was so attracted to him, she would give you a whole host of reasons that made it seem that she was genuinely interested in David the person, but the iron and meat of it all, the thing she was too ashamed to admit, was that she just in it for the sex too, that was all, and if he left her once he was finished, then she'd deal with it, but some small part of her was convinced that she could make him stay.
"Where were you last night?"Â She asked through clenched teeth and quivering lips.
David's tone changed dramatically from what had been light and bouncy, to an air of annoyance. "We've already been through this, haven't we? I've already told you what happened and all I'm asking is that you trust me for once. Can you trust me?"
She was trying so hard to be strong, but it was too much, she broke and let a small sob escape."I want to."
It had been nearly six months since Samantha and David had begun dating. The sex was great, just as she had hoped, but the little part inside of her that wanted something more had grown over time until it was the raging beast of jealousy which lived within her now. She had grown attached, broken a few of her own rules, and by now, there was no way to cleanly sever the relationship, too much had been invested. It wasn't just about the sex anymore. She and David had talked about the future, at least until he changed the subject abruptly or decided to turn on the T.V.. She wanted more than anything to truly love him, to keep him all to herself, and to trust him, but he had never given her any reason to do so.
She was suspicious. He had made a habit lately of coming home at an ungodly hour of the morning or never coming home at all, and the next day, asking for her steadfast trust in him. His stories had always been easy to swallow in the past, but now his account of events and her friends' accounts of what really happened didn't match up.
Samantha stared at him now. Here was this man who she was head-over-heels in love with, that, for all she knew, was frequently cheating on her with some slut named Ashley who he would most likely shack up with once he broke things off with her. The whole notion of this had been tearing at Samantha's insides for the past two weeks.
The look on David's face was one of confusion, Samantha watched his eyes scan her body up and down, he was puzzled by something.
"What do you have behind your back?" David asked. It was really more a demand than a question.
"What?"Samantha tried to hide her panic.
"Your hands. You haven't taken them out from behind your back this entire time. What have you got back there?"
She couldn't respond. For a moment, she had forgotten all about her hands, but now that her attention had been brought back to their existence, she remembered why, and the searing, stinging pain came back in waves.
She loved him, but she wasn't about to let him leave her. She wasn't going to go through that pain, that loneliness again. That's why she held the knife behind her back that night. She tightened her grasp on the handle as he drew closer, she wasn't trembling anymore. She knew she had done the right thing.
"I'm not going to ask you again," David said sternly, his voice elevating in anger, “What do you have behind your-"
The glint of steel shone for just a split second under the fluorescent lights of the apartment. Samantha let out a scream of frustration as she. She didn't mean to do it, but he was getting so close. She was scared and angry at the same time. never before had she hated David as much as she did now. Blood seemed to be everywhere, but it wasn't David's.
"My God, what have you done!" David had seized her arm gently as she wildly flailed, trying desperately to sink the blade deep withing his chest.
Samantha dropped to her knees. The colors of the old apartment seemed to be slowly mingling towards a nice middle gray. The dark carpet was soaked with something warm and sticky, she couldn't figure out what. She could hear David shouting something incoherent, but he sounded miles away now. She wanted to say something to him, to apologize, but her lips wouldn't open. She could see his face now right in front of hers.
"Oh God! Oh Jesus! Stay with me, Sam! Help's coming. Just hold on a few more minutes!
But Samantha didn't want to hang on for any longer. She was getting colder and quite tired for that matter. The pain was slowly dwindling, in fact, it didn't seem to hurt at all anymore. Maybe it was all the pills. But she couldn't stay awake much longer. The gray of the apartment was quickly becoming darker and darker until she had finally found herself in a different place altogether.
You like? You want mirrion dollar?!
Feedback? Thoughts? What happened in the story? Good? Bad?
[Blind to the last cursed affair. Pistols and countless eyes. Trail of white blood betrays the reckless route your craft is running]
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It's been so bastardized in our culture, so mistreated, brutally raped and kicked to the gutter.
Cultural mainstays such as Mtv, beer commercials, and other assassins of truth, morality, decency, and reality in our culture would have people believe that Love is only an emotion, and a fleeting one at that. Love, to them, is sex, and sex sells, let's admit that. And in their pursuit to saturate the market with sex to fill their pockets with cash, they've concocted a base brew of shallow emotions and mindless, Loveless sex into a simple, sickening package: love.
No upper case "L" on this love. This doesn't deserve it. This is vile, dirty, and cheap, and if I wanted this kind of love I could drive a couple of miles to the club and find it for just about eight bucks. But this love will only fail me. This love lasts a night, if even, but in the morning, it's evaporated quicker than the dew. It's sad to see so many caught up in this cycle. It's their drug of choice. It gets them through, at least until the hangover, then they need another fix, and another, and another until they're so wasted on love that they're nothing on the inside, they've become incapable of true compassion, true caring, true Love.
By marketing this inferior form of love, they are now appealing to both the physical and emotional nature of every human being with access to their shit. They combined Love - real, capital "L" Love - with a physical act that hinges completely on this broken vessel we humans call a body. Any time you use something as broken and fleeting as the human anatomy, something's going to come crashing down.
Love isn't having sex to songs with too much bass.
Love isn't in the club.
Love isn't just an emotion.
Love is big. Love is consuming. Love heals. Love hurts.
And Love, real, true, consuming, unselfish, unconditional Love doesn't just come from the mind. It's not just from the heart...
I read an interesting passage from Song of Songs the other day - it was on a wedding invitation. It said, "I have found the one whom my soul loves." Powerful.
It's easy to love with the body. Millions do it everyday. It's fun. It's easy. It's accessible...It's shallow.
It's harder to love with the mind, but people can often trick their minds into believing they love something or someone based on the logical reasons for such a feeling. This is not impossible, I and many others could stand accused of this, but again, it's a selfish love, conditional, not real Love. We mean well, but deep down, we know it's an inferior substitute to what we really need.
It's still harder to love with the heart. There's real commitment there. There's real attachment there. There's real sincerity there. There's real risk involved. It's less conditional. It's what we see in all those sappy chick flicks and action movies. Honestly, this love is amazing, this love alone can get people through some of the hardest points of their lives, and it's what close friends should feel towards each-other. There's enough love in every person's heart to cover the earth, maybe they just haven't found it yet.
To love someone with your soul: that is something really special. This is, in my opinion, what true Love is to the nth degree. I would compare this kind of love to the most intense source of light ever seen focused into one single sliver of light, a beam so precise and so slender that it can only be used to illuminate one other person: true love. I've never had this love. Sure, I've loved girls and they've loved me back - I think - , but it was from the heart, which, again, can carry people through all by itself. But I believe that the Love shared between a man and a woman that are perfectly matched for one another must come from the soul. At least, I'd like to think that I - and everyone else - deserve to feel this kind of love; this love that is shared between only her and I. It's selfish but it's supposed to be. This love begs, no, demands to be exclusive to those who are truly in love, their secret, their promise, their commitment to one another, it can't exist in any other fashion.
I crave this...
well, it's been quite an inaugural post. A word of caution: there's more where this came from. These are my thoughts. These are not spontaneous posts, they're contemplated, calculated, and composed through a series of drafts and revisions. I hope you enjoy, if not, don't subscribe.
[oh, life is bigger, it's bigger than you and you are not me] | | |
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