Expressway To Yr Skull

Beat on the brat

2005-09-21T15:32:00.000-07:00

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)

2005-09-05T14:12:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-04T23:30:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-03T15:46:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-03T13:55:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-24T00:30:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-12T19:34:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-07T23:47:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-07T23:29:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-04T22:41:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-04T11:46:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-03T22:54:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-03T00:05:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-02T20:18:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-02T00:57:00.000-07:00

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

2005-08-01T16:09:00.000-07:00

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.

Perfecting loneliness

2005-07-31T20:13:00.000-07:00

Things in my life have a tendency to go out with an anti-climactic little fart noise. This is my fault more than anyone else's. Maybe I just don't pay attention enough to my surroundings; maybe I have a tendency to take the better and lighter elements in my life for granted; maybe I'm just not cut out for this "being satisfied" at the moment sort of business. When I can convince myself that I deserve good things once in a while, would it be presumptuous to have you hear from me again? The silence and lack of closure speaks a resounding "yes." I've become too comfortable with stagnation in my life, I wrap it around me like a blanket and hide away from both the monster under my bed and the proverbial skeletons in my closet. One of these days I'm gonna suffocate from wrapping it too tightly.

Translation: Sorry. As in "I'm" and "you don't have to be."

Too drunk to fuck

2005-07-31T01:36:00.000-07:00

Well, was.

The streets of Old Town Pas and someone's Skechers are due apologies from last night. Surfer On Acid, my stomach, and low tolerance are sorry a million times over.

Convention of Robert's life # 78: Prolonging having to do anything stressful, only to avoid and build up stress until it engulfs me like a cloud.

I can't concentrate here. It's not just delirium creeping in, as I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD these walls are honing in on me, hoping to smash me flat and lick up the MSG residue in my blood that will flow from my lifeless carcass. The only thing good that's come out of this job is that I get to see my cousins more, I get paid ridiculous wage considering the amount of grunt work I do ("grunt" as in the sound I make as I stretch out on the couch and take 2-hour naps), and each week, I'm met with more and more insight as to just how deep the rabbit-hole goes in my paternal family's fucked-upness. That last one will prove to be beneficial, as I learn eventually to expect less and less out of my dad's side and curtail all potential disappointment.

I have a Milton paper due on Monday, and two more science papers due this week. I went to the Borders at the mall to get a book for my geography class, only to have it completely out of stock. For a second, I stood there, arms akimbo, my mind in a daze as I justified in my head the fact that I no longer needed to write this paper because the book I needed was unavailable.

"At least I tried," I drooled.

What the hell am I doing? After I take a really good dump, finish off my ice tea, and finish watching the Indiana Jones trilogy, I will really start on this paper.

Sugar, we're going down. Suh-winging.

Look on down from the bridge

2005-07-28T19:57:00.000-07:00

Strange how my being on blogger has inspired me to write. Maybe it's the recent drama that's been funneling through my life like shit down a toilet. Or maybe it's just this groovy font, or how I get to title my posts. I don't know why I didn't embark on this defection sooner.

Had a talk with my mom on the phone today while still on campus, and as I articulated everything I did in my last post, I started to lose my shit for about 10 straight seconds. It must've been a sight for the soccer camp kids to see a "grown man" (taken as loosely as possible, considering the fact that I have the ruggedness of cotton candy) to be tearing up in front of them. But regardless, this somewhat stunned me. I haven't cried, so much as shed tears in the longest time. I need to stop repressing things. Not so much that I need to start crying more, but maybe that I need to "axe-murderer" more than I am, which is never.

That last post was originally intended to be a posting on how unreliable and indirect people blow, but it somehow denigrated into something far worse. Just thought I'd throw that out. I'm keeping it up for my own sake, so I can hopefully look back on my current state of mind and just breathe a sigh of relief right before the police knock my door down for crimes committed against humanity.

I am the only breathing abacus in my world; I can only count on myself. Unless you're wearing one of those vintage shirts with tons of shit on them, but then you'd eventually find some way to let me down.

The good times are killing me

2005-07-28T11:44:00.000-07:00

Summer school sucks a fat left anything. I hate incompetent professors with no sense of timing, who have no business teaching an accelerated course considering that they teach slower than a normal professor during regular academic sessions. I can also do without the pretentious students who attempt to philosophize and wax intellectual on subjects that they have no previous background in, such as ecosystem geography. We'd all like to sound smart, but unfortunately, not all of us attended prick school like you elites did. If I didn't have three papers due and three midterms next week, I'd probably bitch more about you people.

Oh yeah, anyone wanna sublet my apartment for a month? In a bout of awesome timing, my subletters are gonna bail on the room they're subletting at the end of this month. I just found out about this yesterday, so all the feelings that are normally associated to such an event haven't hit me as of yet. But seriously, let me know.

Although I can't wait for summer school end, I'm not looking forward to life at home either. It's great having my grandma around, so there's someone that can actually look after her, but I don't have a room of my own. My parents have been hassling me to no end every week to send in resumes, which is something I don't even want to deal with at the moment. My head is stuck in school mode, something I've articulated to them many times as calmly as I could without using the word "fuck."

"If you don't do it now, then it'll be forever before you hear back from a single employer." Their response.

Yeah? Then how about I just fail out of this quarter and we can play this game for as long as you like. Who needs a fucking college degree anyway, right?

I'm no longer attracted to anyone in my opposite gender. Everyone that I meet I automatically create false histories about that dissuade me from pursuing anything. I haven't called that girl that gave me her number back at the cafe yet, and I don't plan on doing so. There's a lot of things I don't plan on doing at this point, namely getting into a relationship. I don't want to get laid. I don't want all the bullshit bureaucracy and double-standards and Washington double-talk that goes with having to confer with members of the opposite sex that are "more than friends." I hate being fake. I hate pretending that I care about their drama and all their fucked-up quirks that make them unwelcome thieves of air that someone else could be breathing. I hate your fucking music.

I haven't had an erection in over a week and a half. I'd try to, but then that would be paying false tribute to a gender in which 90 percent of its constituents emcompass about 100 percent of everything that's wrong with the world today. My penis is resolute in its flaccidity.

Otherwise, there's nothing new going on. My postings are exactly identical in their themes, only they're worded differently and I concentrate on different feelings at the moment. Nevertheless, everything I write is a summation of every single event and emotion that I've experienced and somehow managed to internalize into something negative. I don't have anyone to talk to, I feel like nobody understands me, and those that I try to talk to just tend to minimalize the whole of my experiences into one arbitrary example of me acting irrational. I don't want your sympathy, I don't want your false promises, I don't want you to talk down on me; I just want someone to fucking listen.

God or someone help me. I feel so fucking alone.

Goodday sunshine

2005-07-28T07:12:00.000-07:00

I'm a recent refugee from the wars that are tearing Xanga apart. There's this internal power struggle between the Asians, the teeny-boppers (which encapsulates the Asians, and vice versa), and those pseudo-intellectuals we all love so much.

Not saying that defecting from Xanga will let me avoid that, as blogger has it's share of those kinds of people in droves, but I've been somewhat stigmatized towards Xanga. There's something about it that seems so impersonal, superficial, and choreographed. It's somewhat ironic how the ratio of pictures posted on it is inversely proportional to the actual amount of identity and individuality being displayed. Xanga, like all these other things, are on-line journals first and foremost; ideologically speaking, the person is empowered through the candidness of their words and feelings. And on the flipside, there's a reason myspace has included a blogging option, y'all.

Then again, who's to say I won't be exposed to this on Blogger? I guess only time will tell.

Hi, Blogger. My name's Robert. I can tell that we're going to be friends.