Welcome. Please enjoy your stay.

[Araznal]

As I sit here in my sweltering dorm room, listening to Pulp, trying not to freak out about this 10 page paper due tomorrow - 2 1/2 of which are done - I wonder what could take my mind off the inevitable suffering I must go through. I know that time will eventually make me her *****, the ominous deadline looming over my head, but I refuse to go quietly. I refuse to let myself be dictated by this arbitrary thing that brings only suffering to the human race. I don't have enough of it. Some of it is free, and some shackled. Where has it gone? All these pointless ideas just to harness people in sharply defined roles that make us afraid to do what we truly want. What do we want? We don't know and we don't have enough time to figure it out. It's a sad paradox: we created this god of time to make living easier, but all it's done is restrained us.
Page 3 is tough for me. I can't seem to get it out of my seemingly endless supply of bull**** that has sustained me since I started school at the age of 4. Ironically, I could have written the rest of it in the same time I wrote this, but I chose not to. There's something beautiful there: choice. I never appreciated it for the longest time because I thought that it was up to others to make choices for me: parents, teachers, politicians, etc.. Never had it occured to me that above all else, I have the final say. Of course, I would have to live with the consequences of making that choice, but still, that's better than not having a choice at all.
Around 3 PM. I've never been one for napping, but it sounds tempting right around now. What is it about the mid-afternoon that lends itself to inefficiency? The sun looks almost lonely out there. Maybe it needs some company. Days like these aren't meant for writing mindless research papers. They are meant for lying on the grass, looking at the clouds, and feel utterly content as the warmth of mid-spring envelops you. When I get home, I promise to dedicate at least an hour a day to just feeling completely content. And wouldn't you know it, there it is again: Time. Why am I compelled to define myself through this horrible thing?

Part II: 5/14/06

Stay tuned...

[mrbiggs]

That sucks.

[Araznal]

As I finished organizing my music collection this Saturday night, I remembered my promise to have the next installment of this absolutely ridiculous thread by Sunday. Of course, by now, I hardly remember why I promised to write a second part, let alone why I wrote the first part at all. A promise is a promise, though, and I have always been true to my word, despite what some might tell you. A man's word has little value today. It is bought and sold for less and less without any thought of what integrity and honor are. Of course how can I, a naive young man, throw around these words - integrity and honor - with any true validity? They are only words anyway, aren't they? Words that define truth and lying. What does it matter if someone lies or tells the truth? The spoken word is far too overrated in terms of the power it holds. Lies, truth, it's all nothing but hot air coming from our mouths. People claim that language has been the greatest advance in human history, but does this mean that man could not be great without it? All words try to do is convey our feelings, but does anyone really care about what we feel? We are hardly sympathetic creatures. Some woman telling you about the poor starving children in Africa won't change that, no matter how powerful her words are. Do words even have any power? Not really. The only power is in action, and though words can lead to action, it is not the words themselves that hold the power.
It's a flawed system anyway. Language, I mean. It always lets us down in the most dire moments. How many times have you been unable to find words to express yourself? How many times have you been left speechless? And yet it is these moments that matter the most. The moments when we lose control. When we are no longer rational beings, but only pure emotion. No word could ever do justice to that kind of feeling. So why do we try to label our emotions? As if we are trying to lasso the whole of existence in a neat little bundle that we can understand. It all seems so pointless, but we continue nonetheless. Why? Because if we didn't attempt to understand ourselves - to bundle it all together - we would lose all that false sense of control we have. And then the fear would take us. The fear of having no control. Our urge to understand - to avoid that fear - is the driving force that sparks all advances in human society, but when a whole species is pushed by fear, how can we ever simply appreciate life?


Ok, I haven't read what I just wrote, so I have no idea how stupid it sounds. I just started typing and it came out like this, so don't start going on about how ridiculous I am. Unless someone specifically asks for it, I don't think I'm going to do a part III. So if you want a part III (can't imagine why), just ask and I'll do it... reluctantly.

For the record:
1) I really don't know what the **** I was thinking when I started this thread.
2) I'm not going insane here. This is just a style of writing I like toying around with.
3) There really is no place like home. I swear to God there isn't. Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home...

[General Sweetpants]

I know what you need! MORE CREATIVE JUICES! Shoot some Jager!

And seriously the damn song IS about a magical dragon called Puff, from the land of friggin' Hanalei. NOTHING ELSE.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puff_the_Magic_Dragon

[LUDICROUS]

Reading that hurts, because it makes me cringe .