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.

Standing on the edge of summer, part three

Today, I breathed a great sigh of relief as I took a proverbial step back and gauged the amount of work I've done in the past few days versus the amount of sleep I've received. I went back to my apartment, did some studying, and then passed out at about 4 in the afternoon. One of the most disorienting things, for me at least, one can ever experience is falling asleep when it's bright and sunshiny out, only to wake up to a darkened sky. It's disconcerting, to say the least. Were it not for a phonecall from a friend in class, I might've slept through till about midnight.

Was so tempted to get a shirt I saw today. Picture of a cow without any legs resting on grass. Caption says "Ground Beef." Tie between that shirt and a shirt with a spoon that has the caption "Cereal Killer." T-shirts certainly have come a long way.

One thing I learned in geography class, that I will hold onto indefinitely, which is the population problem. Thomas Malthus said there'd be a massive die-off, followed by a leveling off of population, but in the meantime, it's the poor people's fault. Statistically, the fertility rate of developed countries such as America lies in between 1.8 to 2.1, whereas in impoverished areas it's anywhere from about 2.6 to about 3.8. That's a huge disparity, when you consider also the fact that the poor are literally breeding generations of more poor people at an exponential rate. Essentially, creating a generation of individuals that cannot provide or be provided for. To call this a cyclical relationship would be a gross understatement.

It's simply too easy to blame them, when we should really look at functions of the state and the role they should play in education, contraceptive distribution, and giving welfare benefits to people that are able to maintain a family size within reasonable parameters of a nuclear set-up. The welfare system in America is a flawed neccessity, much like pretty much everything else. The great thing about this country is that there are loopholes to everything. Welfare doesn't so much have a loophole as it has a huge deficiency in giving more welfare and social care handouts to poor families with a large amount of children. So the solution to getting more money? Keep on fuckin.' There's no concrete line drawn to the limits of how much welfare can provide for these people, which is understandable, because then a whole mess of moral and so-called "objective" arguments are called into question, such as how many children qualifies as enough, and how it's not within our country's moral imperative to disqualify people from receiving the benefits they deserve circumstantially. When we take this into account, along with religious opposition to abortion, and the fact that 90 percent of these American families are barely making enough to support their families, it's no wonder the concept of over-population takes a backseat to everything else.

Furthermore, people such as our President advocate a "cornucopian" approach to assessing the overpopulation crisis. How? By actively telling themselves there isn't an overpopulation problem. High growth rates, cornucopians claim, are good for the global community as a whole, since a large community fosters cooperation and promotes a nationalistic identity. Apparently, their argument is based on foresight when there's really a fixation on the present more than anything else going on. The American people, based on popular consensus, seem to condone this approach more than anything else. If anything, to them, this is the only approach. Despite overwhelming evidence that suggests otherwise, people believe there is no overpopulation problem. People are also retarded.

We need to stop it with this moral and fundamental bullshit we always saturate our critical decisions with, and start thinking rationally about even the most abstract of concepts, including overpopulation, which is no longer an abstraction and has been a troubling reality for some time. Ask the people of Calcutta or Beijing if there's an overpopulation problem, and most likely you'll be met with a confused response; This is how much the issue of overpopulation has been undercut in our global psyche. Considering the rate that China is growing at, the overpopulation the government tried to curb back in the 80s will be an even greater problem than before. Overpopulation in a country (yeah, China) with a hideous environmental track record and corruption in all sectors, public and private equals urban decay in overcrowding, unreliable supply of natural resources, and steady proliferation of viruses and illnesses. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. The ratio of rich to poor in China is the highest in all of the Asian countries, which is amazing considering this an index that includes the Phillipines, and the rate at which this ratio is growing is, for lack of better words, an affront to humanity. Two points for anyone who can figure out how overpopulation and the problems it presents figures into all of this.

Employing draconian tactics such as the barefoot doctors simply won't cut it these days in a quickly globalizing society, where people are supposedly making the move towards a greater consciousness about themselves and society. I say supposedly because this consciousness equates to people wanting to drive Benzes and live Western lifestyles in the developing world. Once again, people are retarded. China might be one of the world leaders of industrial output and its economic growth rate right now is uncontestedly powerful, but at the same time, it's spiralling out of control. Instead of focusing on rapid development, countries such as China need to first set themselves firmly in the present in order to truly assess the future. Overpopulation needs to be addressed first and foremost, because frankly, a technologically superior landscape means nothing if it can't provide for the people living in it. There need to be great measures taken, with a greater priority taken to care for the needs of people in the world today first and foremost. Such measures as higher education rates and expanding literacy in poor areas are crucial to curbing unstable fertility rates, and welfare needs to start benefitting smaller, working families. In terms of China, one can look at the rapid development it's undergoing and think to themselves, "how nice!" but one will rarely stop to think about who this development is truly benefitting. The ones that have considered this question are the wealthy elite, and they've most likely already decided the answer for themselves. China's overpopulation is a problem that will come back to bite it on the ass. I guarantee you some sort of overpopulation-related issue will rear its ugly head within the next 7 years. I'll place money on this.

I'm not sure how my studying Milton transformed into a diatribe on overpopulation and China. Eh. Back to studying.

Standing on the edge of summer, part two

Just walked out of my second and second to last midterm today, with both my 8-page journal and 8-page paper on economic sustainability turned in, and my sanity intact. As per usual, both assignments were completed last night. Discounting the fact that the journal wasn't double-spaced, I cranked out close to 17 pages worth of writing, managed to brush up on my notes, and squeeze in about two hours of sleep. The word 'awesome' fails to do me justice. I'd say 'fucktard' is a better word, because my actions last night do not impress me. Rather, they make me somewhat fearful for my life.

One more final tomorrow at 2:30pm, with (thank God), no papers or whatsoever due. Just some hardcore studying tonight, getting tore up by most likely, without a glimmer of doubt, the HARDEST goddamn English class I've taken in my life, and then I'm home-free.

I'm so close to being done, I can almost fuck it.

Standing on the edge of summer

Two more finals, one in less than ten hours. In additionally to studying and reading chapters for the first time, I also have an 8-page paper that I have yet to start due at the same time. No sleep for the wicked, at least not tonight. After my final tomorrow, I'll nap for a few hours and I might pull another all-nighter, depending on how fucked I think I really am.

I am not going to miss this at all.

Originally, I expressed sadness at graduating from UCLA, because I reflected on all the things I could've done differently, all the things I didn't get a chance to do, and all the friends and lifestyle I'd be leaving behind.

I imagined myself bowing out more gracefully, but at least now I have something palpably negative to associate with this school. If anything, this final quarter here has all but destroyed whatever sentimental ruminations I might've developed a few months ago.

Dear soon-to-be alma mater:

Fuck U(CLA). You're the high-priced prostitute that's overstayed her welcome in my life.

Back to studying.

Let's pretend it's summer

Finished yet another paper today and got about 3 hours of quality studying. I'm still nowhere near the end, as I have one paper left, an electronic journal to finish (or start), and still three midterms left to take. But still, even if my paper is a contrived piece of shit, it's enough to know that I finished it and even if I'm going to do pretty poorly on the final tomorrow, I'll get at least a C+, which is more than I need to rest easy once this session is over. Now, about those other two finals...

I don't know why, but this blogspot thing inspires me to write. Perhaps this is a subconscious sign that I as a person need movement in my life, and I can't be tied down to one specific area for too long. Or it's just this blogspot format is so pretty and clean. At least I'm writing, which is good. I'm aware that I spend too much time writing on these kinds of on-line journals when I could be channeling my creative energies in writing something more useful and worth my time, like a novel or even a geography paper. Really, though, this is very cathartic for me; a pattern I've noticed in the past and now is that when I'm faced with stressful times, I come on here and write long-winded entries about everything and nothing, and when I'm done, I'm more or less relaxed and more focused than I was prior to writing.

Maybe I do need to get laid after all.

Got yet another number today at the cafe. This place is seriously becoming my base of operations, or maybe it's just timing. About three weeks ago, I decided to swear off females for the time being, as they contributed nothing constructive to my life and caused me more problems than I knew how to handle. I've said that in the past, but I've never meant it, because 1) I'm a grade-A chump and 2) after all was said and done, I still had to reconcile with the fact that I enjoyed the attention. Not sure which event triggered it recently, but I genuinely do not care; it's a void inside of me that continues to fill itself up. I've gotten to a point that my caring too much has degenerated into me not caring at all.

But somehow, girls are able to pick up on this. This is not the so-called "asshole" angle per se, but it's in the same ballpark. They pick up on this, and all of a sudden, will give time of day and so much more. If this happened to me a year ago, I'd probably be ecstatic, but then again, a year ago would result in a Robert that still cared. I've failed to call all of them, because I start thinking to myself, "I just want to get laid," but then I immediately feel bad about that, so I think, "no, what I really want is a relationship," but then immediately nix that because frankly, I don't know what I want at this point.

Therein lies the paradox. Since I don't care, I'm being met with things I would normally care about. This change of pace and momentary excitement will trigger excitement in me, which then dissolves whatever mojo (or lack thereof) that produced said trigger in the first place. Rinse, lather, and repeat. It's a vicious cycle. For now, I'll take the fact that I'm romantically content.

If someone would like to set that into a mathematical equation, you're more than welcome to. The colder and more bluntly rational I become, the more women will flock to me!

...Just that too bad, I don't, you know, care about that.

[edit] Or do I?

FUCK.

Music for the jilted [me], August 2nd

In keeping with my previous Xanga-based commitment to list my top 10 or top 5 songs of the week, here are 10 songs that are getting me through studying, songs which I will in the future be unable to listen to without spasming.

In no particular order:

Jeff Buckley "Hallelujah" - The first time I ever heard this song, Jeff Buckley was already long-dead. The slow guitar and the spacy vocals make it sound like he's singing to you from beyond the grave. Probably had the same effect when he was still alive.

Feist "One Evening" - This artist has literally done it all, musically speaking, and this album reflects it. Recorded in Paris, the variety of styles ranges from lo-fi folk to, like this song, really smooth and sexy R&B, all the songs sounding like one uniform style, which is hard to manage. Her style isn't that she has no style, it's simply style. This song almost makes me want to meet someone new. Almost.

Metric "Succexy" - I'm a sucka for corn-rows and manicured toes... and chick singers fronting an alternative band (ho).

The Engineers "Forgiveness" - Calling them the shoegazing version of Coldplay is a really unfair comparison; these guys are nothing short of amazing. Probably not everyone's cup of tea, but for those of you that are fans of really spacy, melodic, uplifting dream rock, and yes, Coldplay, then you'll most likely dig this track. My song of the week.

Sia "Don't Bring Me Down" - Australian singer who's worked with Zero 7 on numerous singles. If you like Zero 7... I'll let you figure out the rest.

Thursday "Autobiography Of A Nation" - Stop dishing on these guys and give them a chance. Despite what everyone says, they manage to stand out from the rest of the crowd (you know which crowd) for being pretty original. Either way you look at it, this song is pretty epic.

Longwave "Wake Me When It's Over" - Shoegaze is and was a pretty maligned form of the underground rock scene. Once again, probably not for everyone. But, it's for me. The guitar riff in the beginning has been stuck in my head since 3:14pm on Sunday. If the Killers had a love child with Brian Eno and Kevin Shields, it'd probably be pretty fucked up. But allegorically speaking, it might sound something like this.

David Pajo "Ten More Days" - Former guitarist for Slint and Billy Corgan's post-Pumpkins band Zwan, although you can't really tell. Fans of Elliott Smith will dig the hell out of this song. I'm a big Elliott Smith-head, so I already did some shoveling of my own.

The Evens "Crude Bomb" - This yet another one of Ian MacKaye's numerous side projects, this "band" which basically consists of him on guitar and vocals, and Amy Farina from The Warmers on drums, while not exactly delivering the lost Fugazi album I'm waiting for, nevertheless delivers that same-stripped down post-hardcore folk that I've come to associate with MacKaye and his legacy. Just don't compare them to the White Stripes. Unlike Jack White, who says he hates fame and then appears on the covers of three different mainstream music publications to talk about how much he hates being famous and promotes the shit out of his new album, MacKaye expresses his distaste towards fame by (surprise, surprise) keeping a low profile, issuing discs for under ten dollars, and charging no more than eight bucks for a show.

Tom Petty "Time To Move On" - Always will be one of my all-time favorites. Expect to see this on the list whenever I'm a bad mood. Which is always. But for sake of argument, let's just say this song helps me out in my bad spots.

No place feels like home

Made yet another drive tonight, as I headed on down home to meet up with probably one of the best people I've ever known, who's unfortunately in town only until tomorrow morning. The choice between driving two hours to hang out for an hour and a half and driving zero hours to sit in my room in solitude is no choice at all. It was good seeing you, bud. Have a safe flight and take it easy back east.

Going into Albertson's right before my drive back up to LA, ran into an "ex" (quotations are intact because I have no idea what the hell we were). Awkwardness and quick fumbling of phones in a rapid exchange of numbers ensued. I forgot to save her new number, which is probably a good thing in the long run. For some odd reason other than "Robert is a clingy, sentimental ass" I have her old number and house number saved in my phonebook. I can always dial her old number to hear that grossly pleasant voice tell me, "The person you have dialed is unavailable." Unavailable. Always was, and always will be. Don't you forget it. Thanks for the pep-talk, automated answering service.

I'm caught in an unenviable position as of now. As indicated by the title and content of my last and just about every single post I've written in my entire, oh, let's say, life, I'm not too happy up here in LA. But at the same time, I'm not looking forward to going back to south Orange County either. There's really not much going on there in terms of just about everything. Working for three straight days in Arcadia and hanging out with cousins in Pasadena has made me somewhat yearn for the half-suburban, half-urban messiness that is characteristic of older cities, a rugged attribute I'm somewhat fond of. All the "cities" in Orange County lack distinction in that historic, social sort of way. Aliso Viejo is unique to me in that it has that big-ass Edwards, and after 9, is the best publicly lit place to down 40s. Laguna Hills has a skatepark, and oh yeah, some high school. Mission Viejo has a lake. That's about it. Irvine has that artificial sheen that just screams, "corporate plot of land," which makes sense considering that the entire city was built by a company, of all things. Not a group of settlers or prospectors, a company. Ugh.

And yet, Orange County represents so much to me, above all things, comfort and security, discounting that one guy that went all Toshiro Mifune on those poor souls at the Ralphs on Culver. Stability has become the new status quo for me; I want to settle down and find my own niche in OC before I've even given myself a chance to venture out into the real world. This is both disturbing and comforting to me when I think about it, as its both a sign of me growing up and wishing for some kind of reliable standard of living for myself and a sign of my as of yet unseen spinelessness when it comes to exploration.

I need to take a vacation once all of this is over. China is still an option, and if not, I could still travel for a few months, maybe find an apartment in Hong Kong for about 6 months and get my shit straight, so to speak. Cancel my phone and freeze my bank account. I'm not coming back until I figure out just what it is I want at this point in my life.

Or I could get a one-room apartment in the ghetto parts of Pasadena for a few months. At this point in time, chasing around cockroaches with a gleeful, childish smile on my face sounds like Heaven to me.

Get me away from here, i'm dying

After wrapping up work and a nice conversation with Stephanie at about 12:45am, I left my workplace with an empty tank of gas, 0.2 pages of my paper due the next day written, and a full pack of cigarettes. It's comforting to me as well, not just my parents, that I've got my priorities straight.

Got back to my apartment at about 1:30, and noticed a fun little thing, which was that I left my backpack with three textbooks and a homework assignment back at the rest home. Lately, my reactions to things that would normally cause me to grab the nearest living thing and kill it have been somewhat diluted. I simply cracked a half-smile, peed in the corner of the garage, and headed upstairs to pound out my paper. I started my paper at around 2:15, finished at 4, and not to toot my own horn or anything (realistically, I'd have to remove my lower rib-bones like Marilyn Manson didn't in order to really do that), but it's actually pretty damn good. I'm surprised that I have such a keen grasp of God's grand plan and Milton's literary representation of it. My true Christian pious self is trapped in an Inquistion-era Iron Maiden. It just needs to break free somehow.

Anyway, I drove back to Arcadia, picked up my shit, and from that point on, I don't remember driving back. It's scary. I wasn't under the influence or anything, but I somehow woke up in my bed in my pajama pants and a t-shirt worn backwards.

Missed the first half of class today, and gave a pretty scathing review of my professor in my teacher eval. This marks the official start of my week.

What I have left to do:

- five integral books in Paradise Lost to re-read and re-analyze
- three chapters in linguistics
- four chapters in geography
- two papers to write

And after all's been said and done, one liver to destroy.

Wish me luck.