With this, I bid you adieu.
Think I found something out that's a pretty big deal.
So you know how I'm constantly wavering between a path as a doctor or... well, something film-related or something? LIke, it's always super vague. "SOMETHING IN THE ARTS!" Writing or directing, whatevs. WIth being a doctor I'm pretty sure I want to do something in neurology (because, fuck, THE BRAIN IS FUCKING INSANE). Anyway, for the past few months I've been firm on my stance of NOT doing that shit.
Well, now that I'm getting back in shape and keeping up a healthy diet and getting back in the groove of a strict routine, suddenly my brain is operating totally different. I'm more positive (duh) and now I'm reconsidering a career in the health industry (whaaaa?).
That whole notion of "If I can save three lives, then it's all worth it," is back. In the end, I think with the pursuit in arts, I love writing the most, and I can do that with whatever I end up doing. PRETTY SURE I'm prepared mentally to stick a catheter into someone's penis now.
I just deleted an entry that comprised of loquacious spiels about how I'm returning back to my old self. The post was a borderline rant and I need not for those entries!
Pretty much, I was just acknowledging how I abandoned my "dreams." Because dreams fade away, that's just what they do. It was time to grow up, put on my big boy pants, and walk the walk and talk the talk everyone was doing. Time to learn a trade. Plant a seed for a career. All that bologna.
WELL, today I kind of just dropped all that. I was stressing out about my new job, and you know what? It isn't that important. It's not. I hadn't been stressed since pretty much mid-2008. I'm not kidding. I mean, I've been to the edge of sanity a few times, but that was out of anger and frustration. In terms of being textbook stressed, NOPE. And you know what? That way of living is pretty goddamn sweet.
From what I'm gathering, the more things that stress you out, the more of an "adult" you become. It's kind of stupid. "The end-result IS the reward!" people keep telling me. Are they telling me... or convincing themselves?
But yea, I'm picking back up my dreams and turning them into aspirations. Life's actually pretty fucking awesome. It doesn't have to be a paint-by-numbers coloring book. I kind of got sucked into that mentality and was fully planning on committing myself to it.
Not no mo~~
Smile, motherfuckers. Life's good.
Oh, I also talked about how I took this GARGANTUAN shit. LIke, it was HUGE. Halfway through the strand I was seriously alarmed. I was all, "Oh my god, this could clog this toilet." When the full strand was birthed out, I seriously wanted to preserve it and send it to Zuirch. It might've been the biggest crap ever produced by man. But yea, that single strand totally clogged my toilet and I had to plunge the fuck out of it for seven straight minutes. No joke. It was the size of a small dog.
I had started an entry that celebrated my newfound joy of surfin' the net while on the popper. Well, I finished my... wait for it... duties before I could finish the entry. Sitting on the bowl with some gunk in yo' butt wasn't the ideal circumstance to be in even when writing these fluffy entries, so I had to scrap it. Just know, I'm totally digging it. Also, if I'm trying to vidchat with you, chances are I'm waiting to release that first blast when you press 'accept.' And yes, I've gotten people and it's HILARIOUS.
So this entry is kind of a farewell.
My reckless abandon on life has been the bane and pleasure of my last two years. Having been in a bad place for most of 2010 and slowly recovering in 2011, I can say that 2012 is when I'm starting to collect all the pieces and putting them back together. I feel like I'm entering another phase in my life. I've discovered all my past blogs mark different phases of my life. GRANTED, I'm not saying that I'm suddenly this mature dude who feels like he should be wearing his big boy pants all the time (because, fuck those people) or does and say shit to feel like he's all grown up (because, fuck those people, too). I'd treat this new phase like the next rung on a Pokemon evolution ladder. It's like going from Charmeleon to Charizard. And Ash's Charizard was apathetic as shit.
Anyway, you might be protesting, saying, "BUT WHAT ABOUT YOUR TOP TEN LISTS?! WHAT OF THOSE?!"
I know I use to champion that stuff, but, honestly, the luster of making those lists are kind of slipping. They're fun to make and all, and while I try my best to choose the flicks that will LAST, sometimes I'll overlook or misjudge something. Like, Benjamin Button OVER Wall-E? Turrible. Stepbrothers not making that list? Wrong. Maybe a bit too much love for Letters to Iwo Jima and Little Miss SunShine. Also, Notes on a Scandal would've been much higher and FUCK, Hunger being totally ignored? TURRIBLE. My top three picks have held up for the past few years, though.
AND MUSIC. SHIT. Metric's Fantasies and Sarah Blasko's As Day Follows Night are two MASSIVE omissions from their respective years because it took me awhile to discover them.
So yea, FOR THE TIME BEING, there shall be no lists. I'm thinking more like, maybe in June of this year, I'll go back and make those lists. See which games, films, and movies truly do possess a resonating effect.
But there you have it. A change is coming and the next post shall mark it. Get ready, suckas!
It's been awhile, hasn't it?
Oh, so what's been going on since my last post? Well, for one thing, that second installment of the San Francisco & San Jose trip will probably never happen. Long story extremely short: I ate some shit and it was delicious.
I really don't have anything to write about right now... I mean, I'm not trying to say that my life is exceptionally boring right now, but it's exceptionally boring right now. I try and fight the tide by doing completely irresponsible things (mostly the binge drinking, drunk adventuring, and strip clubs). It's starting to become an issue, though. When I show up to places and embark on adventures in my drunken stupor, I forget at least a third of what actually transpired.
Case in point, this past weekend, I engaged in rousing conversation with some promising youth from China. Well, you know what? While I remember the other participants in the conversation smiling, laughing, and looking genuinely interested, I can't say I remember even half of what was spewing from my mouth. I got the gist, I'm pretty sure I came off intelligent, but that shit is no longer in my brain.
The next morning I was super worried I made a buffoon of myself at the party, but the word is I conducted myself in a fantastic manner. HOW ABOUT THAT?!
Regardless, I'm going to have to put a hold on the drinking. Not so much because I want my liver to recover, but more so because I let myself go a bit and I need to restore myself into my old sexy status. SO, FOR THE TIME BEING, THE ONLY ADVENTURE I'LL BE GOING ON... is the adventure of getting back in beach-body shape.
And there you have it - the first post of 2k12.
I know in the last post I had promised a sequel to the life-changing tale of my California Trip. Well, that didn't really pan out with the celerity I had hoped for (There's a good chunk of it written... just, too lazy to polish and finish it up). But whatever, it's not like anyone out there lost a nano-fraction of their lives stressin' about when the sequel to the smash-hit California Trip post would hit.
Instead, I want to talk about this growin' up business. I'm extremely aversive to anything that could be labeled as "growing up." That means a gamut of things. Whether it's not having saving account (true story; a high schooler from the office could not wrap her mind around a 26 year-old not having a savings account), habitually drinking on weekdays that aren't Friday (at the strip club, so, double whammy there), or carousing the Target toy aisle when it's not Christmas, I fucking do not want to mature.
But, alas, the great Charles Barkley was right in that no one escapes Father Time.
Recently I revisited two pinnacle films in my younger years. These were flicks I've seen MULTIPLE times. The two flicks were Scream (middle school obsession) and Fight Club (high school obsession).
Scream was the film that officially opened the doors to horror for me. It was the flick where I finally embraced the genre. Before, I would curiously watch them on cable TV and then proceed to shit myself for about two days. I would avoid the Horror section at Blockbuster like it was the Ark of the Covenant. Then Scream warped my sixth grade sensibilities and suddenly I was obsessed with horror.
Fight Club seriously punched my ninth-grade self in the face. Aside from the cinematic brilliance of Fincher's vision, the actors' performances, and the Dust Brother's score, the whole mantra of living counter to societal norms just warped my impressionable, idiotic, young mind.
In both cases, chaos and, I guess, anarchy were sweet hymns to my ears.
THIS YEAR, though!
Fight Club is still an amazing film. It's still in my top ten. The cinematic bravo holds up. However, watching it now, I just get super annoyed with Project Mayhem. Before I was all about the whole notion of space monkeys being shot into space. Now? I just think it's a big group of assholes. A group of dumb, retarded assholes. Nothing but a dumb cult sans the suicide punch.
For Scream, it was worse. Teenager's fucking up people's days or lives really irks me. The whole time I'm just like, "This cast of kids... just a bunch of dicks and cunts." Even Randy annoyed the shit out of me. But, it was still entertaining... so, you know, probably going to finally get around to watching Scream 4.
I didn't EXPECT to react this way to these films. But I guess no matter how hard you resist, your sensibilities will "mature" whether or not you want it to. But I take solace in the fact that, even though I'm turning into that guy who says "UH! KIDS THESE DAYS!" If a teenager ever decided to get ironically chummy with me, I would tackle him to the ground, get a hold of his arms and force himself to slap his own face. Fuck the high road!