Beat on the brat

OC kids reek of false promises, sheltered egos, and an innoculated brand of cultural ethnocentrism that stinks to holy hell.

We need to stop telling our kids they're special, and let them in on the reality of their eventual mediocrity and lack of individualism earlier, instead of letting them figure it out on their own. Use me as an example; look how the fuck I turned out.

Destiny has a weird way of working. At least it has and will for the next couple of months. My plan to go to China at the end of October has disappointingly fell through because of a random Danish guy. I figured if anything, in order to accelerate the English education of its people, Chinese specialty schools would be keen to hire ABC's who have a strong grasp of both languages. This would allow one to overcome language barriers and have a stronger understanding of the difficulties a native speaker of Chinese has to face when speaking English. Nah, not the way it works over there. After all, this IS the Chinese we're talking about, who despite their skyscrapers and American-level oil consumption will always be backwards and superficial in thought. Basically, it's this simple: if you look like them, you're simply not cut out to teach English. To put it in even simpler terms, a White high-school dropout from Alabama is more qualified to teach English in China than I am, Confederate flag tattoo and all. I'm not exactly putting myself on some kind of pedestal here, what with my degree in English and all, but fucking c'mon, dude.

So, to bide my time, I'm going to be doing some tutoring on the side, primarily (what else) English. Little Asian kids are easy to work with; I'm reading up on the St. Martin's Guide to Writing, seven no-nos of the English langage, a Beckett's Collector's Guide to Yu-Gi-Oh, and a Bradygames' strategy guide on World of Warcraft (or WOW) to keep up with these adorable parasites. I try to slip in comic book references and recommendations here and there, because hey, if not now when they're children, then when?

All in all, it's not a bad racket, tutoring and whatnot. The pay is good, the hours are flexible, and I am the master of my domain. On normal days, I sit in my car and play around alone by looking into the mirror and pretending to fire myself at least fifteen times in the duration of a car ride. "You're fired." "No, you're fired." "No, YOU'RE fired." "Fuck you, I'm going to Chili's."

I need friends.

We are all on drugs (yeah)

What we have yet to see in the news:

During 9/11, various publications and media outlets ran "Profiles in Courage" specials that detailed heroic actions of ordinary citizens. At the time of writing this, there have been -1 specials in such a vein. Apparently, in order to become a hero, one has to have proper grammar. Or not be Black.

On the other hand, we can thank the Associated Press for its courageous coverage of the racial aspects of the Katrina disaster fallout. What's the difference between a looter and a resource gatherer? Now you know.

And while we're on the topic of kicking people when they're already down, it appears the only people who have no concept of this term are Democrats. I suppose that's what we love and hate about them.

For those of you that say I shouldn't be complaining at a "time like this," all I'll say is, "I don't know about you, but I voted for Nader. Twice."

Now on a completely different but related note, it's extremely scary how much the Katrina disaster resembles 9/11, but in so many ways is a different animal. I think it's undeniable that this time, we simply don't care about the surviving and the fallen even a fraction of the care we exhibited for those that perished in 9/11. Let's stop and reflect for a moment the casualties of 9/11. Aside from the brave souls of the FDNY and NYPD, who we stiff in salary on a regular basis, the 9/11 deaths were largely composed of WTC employees, which basically means they're college-educated professionals, and probably either White or pretty damn Anglicized. And for those that were on the planes that crashed into the WTC and the Pentagon, the fact that they were flying on a plane speaks for itself. Just for good measure, let's also assume an unborn fetus was on board the plane that crashed into the second tower. Now we take a look at the Katrina survivors. That didn't take too long, now did it? Predominantly Black and poor, and they probably talk funny, too. If one were to go back and take a look at the detailed profiles of the 9/11 victims, they would be frustratingly hard-pressed to find someone who was any of these. Basically, these people simply are not newsworthy. Don't even try to tell me that the WTC didn't have Puerto Rican janitors.

If anything, the only outrage that's been expressed up to this point is more of what Jon Stewart calls "noise." Sympathy and outreach is shelved as an afterthought as the left and the right clash over issues of accountability and party legitimacy, as fact-check after fact-check devolves into a series of chaotic non sequiturs that then melts into one big cluster-fuck. Democrats would love to harness this opportunity to blame Bush for everything, while Republicans will continue to justify Bush's role as commander-and-chief and not-that-big-of-a-douchebag. To Bush's defense, it's not fair to blame him for everything. I mean, at least we can all agree that Bush wasn't responsible for making the hurricane. I'll be here all night.

It's simply human nature. Wait, let me correct that. I think that since the advent of mass communication, human nature eventually grew into completely mutability entity, the extent of its change completely dependent on media. A person, no matter the circumstances, will latch onto whatever feels right at the moment. If this means bashing the political shit out of Bush's ass, then by all means do so. Politics for everyone but those in politics has become one big shouting match; people will yell at each other over their beliefs that they feel so strongly about, go home, take a shit, and go to sleep. In other words, despite their best (mediocre and ineffectual) efforts, millions will irrevocably continue to live below the poverty line in America.

Then there's the consumer side of it all. You've no doubt seen it everywhere you turn in your waking hours. I want to hit every single musician who claims to be "helping" the suffering with a tack hammer. The forced disingenuity of their actions is something I find utterly offensive as a human being. The last time I checked, you guys were all millionaires. Why in the hell would you need a benefit concert, of all things, to raise money? It's bullshit. We've found a way to spin every single tragedy into a profitably endeavor, all things considered. When I see these awful, superficially hollow benefit concerts, all I see is a cockamamie of inflated egos engaged in a congratulatory circle-jerk. They've done their part to help by appearing on national syndicated television? Who the fuck is you? If these musicians truly cared as much as they say they do, they'd be down there at the superdome handing out bottled water and administering care or simply moral support to those that need it the most. I don't know who's worse; the musicians who recycle their songs in the name of charity, or the people that actually give into this contrived saccharinity. When I actually stop and think about it, it makes me nothing less than sick. Buying a CD, even for charity, supposedly, still amounts to buying a CD when all has been said and done. I find it hard to believe that no one ever stops to think about how ridiculous such a scheme is, and how much more ridiculous it is that it actually works. Yeah, it's all for a good cause, not because Clapton plays a pretty mean lick in the live rendition of "Layla."

Our ability to care has become limited to our attention span and the size of our wallets. And yeah, I realize I'm directing all my energies here towards the racial fallout of Katrina, inevitably contributing to the "noise." What can I say, I'm just a little upset. And yes, it concerns me too that I'm more concerned with the political and social side of Katrina as opposed to actually giving a damn about the 100,000 that are going through Hell in America as I type this while sitting in my leather chair with the A/C at full blast. In a minute, I'm going to go outside, smoke a cigarette, take a nap, and when I've woken up I'll have forgotten all of my current anger and rage. I suppose that's just me being human like everyone else.

Your heart is an empty room

I look at all the lonely people, and I sit back at times and ask myself whether or not I exhibit the traits that all these soul-dead people consistently show. I like to say "I'm dead inside" and whatnot, usually as either an attention-getting tactic or to justify an irrationality but I'm more or less sure that I'm not entirely dead on in the inside. Granted, I'm much less receptive to people's issues and much less sympathetic in giving support, but I still show my care in other ways. I still have the capacity to at least lend a shoulder to cry on, even if I think the problem is hardly worth anyone's tears.

So, I tell myself that I still do care, and I use the above examples to bolster that claim. But do I really? I've reached a point in my life where I'm basically going through cycles and routine. I do certain things and offer certain services out of contrivance and lack of alternative options, it feels like sometimes, and that worries me. I have my loyalties to those that deserve them, but at the same time, I sometimes feel like when I'm talking to someone, I mean less than half of the things I say and the emotions I appear to express at the time. I'm not dead inside, but there's still this undeniable emptiness inside that silently gnaws away at me everytime I'm prompted to feel something, and that bothers me. I remember when I used to care so much about so many things, unhappy albeit passionate about the many certain things I gave a shit about. Nowadays, I feel like I'm just emulating my past self. Am I really the idealistic individual I've always believed myself to be? Or is this the real me? A person who's devoid of genuine substance when needed, selfishly devoted to his own devices and what he perceives to be his own needs.

I can't really decide right now. There's just so many things about myself that either upset me or disappoint me. I wish I were better looking. I want to be taller. I'm extremely insecure and self-conscious about the fact that I look so young. I wish I were a better communicator. I don't want to be socially awkward anymore, and I can't figure out why I am. If all I am is a vessel of emptiness, why am I so angry and just what exactly am I so angry about? For the past three years, I wake up every morning and stare into the mirror, and all I see is a frightened child who is unwilling to change with the times. All of my anger and disappointment is expressed through the spark-less eyes and the cheeks that seem to sag ever so much more with each passing day.

I've lost faith in humanity, but more importantly, I've lost faith in myself. Before, it was just faith that I could someday grab ahold the reins of my life and steer it towards some tangible direction. Now, it's simply the faith in my abilities to choose between right and wrong, to maintain my own identity and morals despite everything I have and have yet to come across in my so-far young but already-old age. I don't know who I am anymore.

Sometimes, the aforementioned cycles wear down on me so hard, I feel as if everything in my life at this point is fine, and I'm simply forcing myself to be unhappy and restlessly angry at everything, almost as if I'm disallowing myself not even happiness, but even the satisfication of merely being content with my surroundings.

Everyone believes their child is special, and these feelings are completely warranted. Children view the world not in black and white, but in vivid reds, oranges, and vibrant hues of even the most drab of colors. Their idealism is boundless, and their perception is both limited and unlimited by accepting only that which feels right to them. All children are uniquely fascinating, special in their own right. If anything, it makes you wonder where all of our ordinary adults come from.

True maturation is realizing how terrible human beings are to one another and to themselves. From that point on, you gauge your own emotional limits and your own abilities, and you start to paint a realistic picture of how you view life and society in blacks, whites, and a heaping of grays. Your contradictory frames of mind reflects the chaos of the world outside. Maturity and growth is the death of the soul and all the dreams you once clung onto.

And with that being said, it's somewhat depressing how all my complexities, indecisiveness, and boggled stream-of-consciousness thought can be so annoyingly boring and ordinary. Perhaps I really am growing up.

Only confident in your insecurities

I'm allowed to poke fun at myself for being an English major; you, on the other hand are not allowed to. Personally, I'm a bad example of someone who majored in English going onto becoming something great because I'm lazy as sin, but there are plenty of English majors that have gone onto pursue successful careers in law, entertainment, and business-related fields. The English major, with all foofiness and humanitarian waxing aside, really does prepare one for heavy workloads and efficiently managing time. Not only that, but the sheer amount of reading one does is not for pleasure; in actuality, an English major is forced to do tons of reading they'd rather not do, and successfully comprehend and read into the text. This makes one into a good writer, but even more so someone who is open-minded and willing to think alternatively with successful results. The English major puts the "anal" in "anal sex." But also in "Analysis" and "analytic." Anyone who's taken English 143 at UCLA will attest to this.

For those of you that view English as a hobby major, please refrain from negativity and that brand of self-righteousness that many of you in superior, harder majors seem to hang off your respective peni and/or clitoriae. Become more open-minded by maybe taking an English class. Lay off the snipey remarks and shut the fuck up, because the first sign of ignorance is purporting to know more than you're mentally capable of. I mean, silence thy mistempered tongue, lest I smite thee with my golden scepter of phallus, bestowed upon by the holy muse Urania upon whom the everlasting did thusly smile upon in humble blessings and adorations to be passed upon to my genitalial glory, whose very arcane presence did make Leviathan tremble in his passing.

Making fun of the English major is to me as the word "nigger" is to Blacks. That is OUR/THEIR word. Bitches.

When the levee breaks

Heartfelt condolences go out to Katrina survivors and lost Americans. What a fucking tragedy.

Chance to insert inappropriate song reference notwithstanding, I think the song's content is appropriate to describe what can be said about both the physical and political landscape America is currently experiencing.

Here's something that's been bugging me. Just a little bit.

Anyone who's been following the news has seen that approximately 70 percent of the Katrina survivors, not to mention the fallen, are African-American and/or poor citizens holed up in low-rent, disaster-prone working class areas who had either no means of conveyance or adequate funds to pay for transportation out of New Orleans. I say and/or, because, let's face it, in a major American city such as New Orleans, the words "African-American" and "poor" more or less go hand in hand like two attendees at a shotgun wedding. This is what we call environmental racism. I'm surprised that no one's begged the question as to whether predominantly White refugees would have undergone the same inhumane, animal-like treatment in evacuation lines that the predominantly poor Black survivors have so far suffered. When 9/11 hit, awards shows were postponed indefinitely, and sporting events were cancelled out of respect and taste. Currently, no American awards shows or sporting events have received any sort of postponement out of respect and taste. If anything, I would imagine based on the national solemnity after 9/11, the Katrina debacle would receive equal treatment. People just don't seem to care as much about Katrina, as there is this otherworldly detachment and inability to sympathize with the survivors. Without wandering into the territory of racism and prejudice, all I'm going to ask is "Why?"

On the other hand, there's the issue of poor planning and response time which costs thousands of Americans their lives. In 2002, the head of the Army Corps of Engineers resigned in protest to the Bush Administration due to the amount of money that would've and has been so far diverted from national disaster preparation stockpiles and put towards the war in Iraq and homeland security (security, that is, for the purposes of national defense in response to the war). The project, which was aimed at strengthening levees in major potential "hotspots" began in 1965 and was slated to be complete in 1975. As of now, in 2005, the project remains at a standstill 80 percent completed. Also as of now is the 30 percent of National guard stationed in Iraq in the name of peacekeeping, not to mention arms caches and supplies that have been shipped and are being shipped to Iraq that our soldiers here desperately need.

Politicians are born, shameless liars. With that said, I'm not sure how I'd categorize Bush, a good old-fashioned American boy who's one of us. "One of us," in the context of the average American unversed in the realm of politics and law entails a college-educated adult who inexplicably possesses the attention span of a 10 year-old and the impetuous recklessness of a 6 year-old. All things considered, I'd rather not have a president who I can relate to. There are numerous reasons that I'm not president, these reasons including but not limited to the fact that I stay on top of all matters concerning the wellbeing of my country and the ability to make intelligent decisions in dire situations. Another thing I would expect to see in a president is a strict insistence on making decisions by abiding with accurate and professional intelligence. That despite the fact Bush's cabinet is so competent and able he is still able to claim harmless ignorance towards every single crisis that hits America is utterly inexcusable.

I know this isn't the time to be blaming anyone for what happened, although there is blame to be laid. For the hurricane, I blame Triton, dread god and overseer of the Seven Seas. But in terms of the planning, the response, and the horrific amount of casualties suffered, how can anyone not have at least an opinion in regards to those factors and how they were handled? When the levee breaks, shit will happen. And happen big shit will.

The only reason the war in Iraq remains to this day a bloodless war is because all the casualties are unreported and now, drowned. I'm curious as to how many more American deaths it will take before the American people finally realize that the government does not act on our behalf. Probably the day Bush starts to take more accountability into the matters he should be responsible for.

All aggressions and venting aside, condolences to those affected by the Katrina catastrophe. I hope we make it through this together as Americans. Find out how you can help.

True confessions pt. 1

Taking my final collegiate class before I graduate from UCLA at UCI this summer has made me realize something: I like UCI, UCLA blows. It's amazing how a school like UCLA, as good as it is, can put such an emphasis on school unity and spirit and yet make someone feel so isolated amidst the crowd. UCI doesn't presume to be anything more than it is, which is a suburban school for rich suburban kids located smack in the middle of the so-called bubble. I don't care what people say or think about the "bubble," but being surrounded by supposedly "simple" people is leagues better than having to put up with the pseudo-intellectual elitist bullshit of a hotshit college student any day. Pretentiousness is that fake bullshit authority drive acting up again, in which dumbfuck college students compete with one another to quote inanely wordy lines from Huntington's "Clash of Civilizations" and, sadly enough "Fahrenheit 9/11." Superficiality by any other name, and regardless of how hard you work for it, is still superficiality.

How we kill ourselves

Things we all could do without:

1) Reality TV shows: I feel like I'm beating a dead horse here, but really, I liked it better when we were rooting for fictional characters in fictional scenarios than supposedly real people operating in set-up, fake scenarios with real-life repercussions. The reality of our nation nowadays is that we are fat, out of shape, neurotic backstabbers who can't think for ourselves to save our own lives. Apparently, society just can't look up to actors anymore; now we have to be just flat-out mislead and lied to. Our heroes? Only in America.

2) Asian-American Female writers: Women are already pretty shitty writers. Yeah, I said it. Hackneyed, overused plot conventions of the beautiful, intelligent, assertive woman blah blah blah changing of the old guard and ushering in the new bluh bluh bluh it's all been fucking said and done before. The Bronte sisters said everything female writers up to this point were meaning to say about the female experience.

Uppity Asian chicks who think they can write are probably the worst case offenders. You know, like Amy Tan and Maxine Hong Kingston, who sell their books based on strong female characters who are able to liberate themselves by either abandoning Asian culture or ditching Asian guys and going for strapping Aryan lads, with a little bit of that old Asian mysticism thrown in to exoticize Asian females even more. You'd swear that after reading a chapter in an Amy Tan novel all her characters are going to return to the Shire to further practice their mystical arts some more. Bullshit.

Basically, all the novels about a group of "strong" Asian-American women overcoming adversity in a new land of new opportunity? They gotta go. It's familiar, rehashed cliched material that has no room for growth or innovation, or a shred of open-mindedness for that matter. I understand the theme of the struggle of women trying to find identity in a society that neither fosters nor promotes female individuality, but you can only write so many stories about this topic before it becomes a forced contrivance, where audiences begin to accept this deficiency as routine and the subject itself becomes diminished under its own weight.

3) Girls who fall for "those" guys: This isn't me so much saying, "oh boo hoo, why can't these same girls go for me, the supposed nice guy instead." I hate women of all shapes and forms, except for the ones I talk to and the ones that might happen to read this. Rather, it's me sick of hearing these stories about nice girls who fall for these cocksure, abrasive assholes. I've already written countless posts on why girls say they want one kind of guy when there's really no mystery to the fact that assholes intrigue them. The asshole will stun you with his bastardliness, and then drop you in your tracks with that "soft side" where they sweet talk you all the way to Planned Parenthood. It works everytime. Doesn't matter whether the girl's intelligent or thinks she's confident (no real confident or self-assured female would ever have the dignity to give these myspacer "playas" the time of day), it works everytime.

Disclaimer: Once again, this is about "girls." Not women who have their shit together.

The answers are clear to you all, and everyone you talk to will make it painfully clear the problem outlining the relationship, but it never, ever clicks in your heads to be proactive and defensive. "No longer being defensive" or "giving love another chance" amounts to you going back to the asshole routine. The fact that you come to me for advice, and then do the exact opposite of what I suggest you do tells me that you don't care what other people think in your interest and ostensibly, you don't care what I think about you or the slowly fading respect I have for you. I'm no longer buying the feminist viewpoint on a male-dominated society. Women get what they want by subscribing to this outdated theory, assert their feminism when necessary, and then fall back on this theory when things don't work out they way they want.

The moral of the story? Females, accept this vapid station in life you have wrought unto yourself, and don't make yourself the victim in telling me your story. You want the pretty boys, but then you're wracked with insecurity all up until the day that he will cheat on you with someone else. You say you want the smart guys, but your shell of an existence can't stand to be threatened by someone who might talk his way out of a relationship, so you go for a neanderthal prick instead. You want someone who's sensitive, but someone who's too sensitive will become a liability and you don't want to hurt them, so you decide to go for the insensitive jock who walks with his dick hanging out and you end up the one constantly hurt instead, with the sensitive guy never even given a chance to decide for himself whether or not he'll be hurt.

So basically, a relationship for the sake of a relationship. And you all wonder why it never works out.

Here's my contribution: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

________________

Morals of the respective stories:
1) People are sheep.
2) Girls are hypocrites.
3) Girls are retarded.

Stay away from heaven

Oh yes, another thing. Specifically, about females. A joke I frequently make in half-seriousness, half-jest is that I've had so many failures and no victories, I might get to a point where I care so much that I cease to care. In other words, a way for me to cover two bases at the same time.

I do care.

I've been at war for 22 years and returned home with nothing more than a sack of used condoms and shoestring (don't ask). No love letters. No mementos or keepsakes. Nothing to show for my efforts. Just a series of yarns for me to spin when I have nothing else to talk about. There is not one instance in my life where I can look back, shrug, and smile wistfully, "it was worth it."

For those of you making something with someone, I say hold onto that. For one day, just set aside all the bullshit power plays and contrivances that get in the way of a relationship, look your partner in the eyes, and exude appreciation and affection towards them in the best way you know how. The reward to a relationship is the solution unto itself. It makes me sad how so many people squander this feeling. It's so fucking simple, and yet when I talk about myself, I blame everyone else and I beat myself up over it. It scares me how little control I have over the things I want for myself emotionally. This is why I rip up telephone numbers and flake on others; I've already given up. There's no need for me to contribute to a series of "bad-break" stories. I don't need to become another statistic. But at the same time, I care. But I don't. But seriously, I do.

By the time I do get what I'm looking for, either my insecurities will cause it tumble down, or she'll eventually become tired of me, at which point I will go insane and breakdown into a mess of incoherent babbling and tears. It's to be expected. I've already lost. I've already fucking lost. There will always be this emptiness. I know what this emptiness is now. It's everything and nothing rolled into an undecipherable cacophony brewing in the heart. It's so painful yet painless, it's almost sickening. I hate this shit. I hate it. I fucking hate it. I absolutely fucking hate it. I absolutely, absolutely fucking hate, hate, hate, hate this so much.

All things move towards death. This is a fact. But if the journey you make with someone is worthwhile, you transcend death, both literally and figuratively, with something much more profound than either one of you could ever hope for in a million years.

Fuck you. Do not presume to know how I feel.

Never lose that feeling

Done, finally. I haven't updated this thing in "a long time" (relatively speaking), proof once again I operate and write much more effectively under pressure.

The other night, before I drove back to Orange County, I parked on campus and walked around for about a good hour. I visited the usual haunts, and devoted a random amount of time to each part of campus I grew to call as my own until just now. I sat in the shadows of tables on Rolfe patio listening to the silence, and I laid down in the middle of Dickson Plaza and made a grime-angel. The entire time, as I slowly but surely emptied my pack of Camels, I tried to pin a description to what I was feeling but I couldn't. Sentimental, yes, but why? Still can't figure it out. If anything, I felt a pervasive emptiness. But why? Probably will never be able to figure that out.

The lessons I've learned this year all boil down to this: people, by nature, are evil. Everyone is a venture capitalist out for personal gain and profit. It's why communism failed. On the same note, you make friends for one reason and one reason only, and that's to eventually be let down by them. From that point on, you use that to gauge your own limits and flaws introspectively, and you ask yourself what you might've learned from your encounters with shitty people.

People all have one song, and they play it in their head 24 hours a day, 365 days out of the year. People will wallow in their insecurities, pump their chests at their self-imposed brilliance, and will silently celebrate their neutrality. Everyone likes to think that somehow they're bigger and more important and unique than they really aren't. Everything and everyone operates on their fixation on their own delusions and illusions; behold the birth and death of society. We were fucked from the get-go.

Being graduated is fine and dandy, but entering the so-called real world means shit if you no longer have anything to live for.