Pervasive Maneuvers

This Is Happening

2011-02-23T23:55:00.005-06:00

Ok, so I broke. You probably figured that out; I hadn't posted in a while. It seems to me it would be obvious that a lack of posts implies that I had cheated or given up, but maybe not. Either way, I smoked, and I smoked a lot.

Lets skip how or why for now, it wasn't that exciting. I'm here to write about the fact that I'm having a profound cigarette right now. The urge to write struck and I decided to take action. Suspense ensues?

I had just gotten off the phone with my girlfriend, Teresa, and said that I was to head to bed due to an early flight I have to catch tomorrow. I told her that I loved her and that I missed her, but still said I was to bed. I was still fairly awake, so the obvious solution was whiskey and a book.

My roommate, and best friend of more years than we usually admit, sat down to work and somehow the new Radiohead album ended up on the speakers. A hookah was packed and lit. There isn't a word for how relaxing it was. The hookah ended, and I lit up a cigarette. Inside. Not a common event in the apartment, but Alex silently agrees and lights one up himself. A song ends, flows into the next, and suddenly I'm struck by... something. Life, I guess.

Sorry Teresa, I was not intending to stay up I promise.

I was smoking, nay, relishing a cigarette with my friend. One of the real ones, the ones you can't fake for sake of convenience. A friend who happens to be moving to San Fransisco in a few short months, consequently taking away the possibility for moments just like this thing of beauty.

The very nature of the cigarette at hand, and sharing it, almost feels like a collective "fuck you" to the future and it's potential struggles. All smokers, myself and Alex included, are not immune to the constant badgering from people at bars: "Cigarettes cause cancer you know. You should quit." Great, thanks. They have warnings on the damned box, I get it.

But the joining in what will be one of the last of these ceremonies, the decision to smoke way more cigarettes than is normal in a moment of extreme indulgence, was powerful. It was a simple moment, but a descriptive one. Long after I quit smoking, and long after my friend moves on to bigger and better things, I will look back on moments like this one.

Who cares about the future when you can lose yourself in the present?

Where Is My Mind?

2011-01-27T19:11:00.002-06:00

I tried to break my streak today, and I tried using the smoker's code to do so. I feel pretty dirty about it as I hate violating smokers code. Let me explain.

As I've stated before, I'm on site for my job doing an all-week training session. This particular session is pretty high pressure in nature to begin with; ten hour sessions each day filled with executive speakers and specialty positions giving us Powerpoints on different products and aspects of the business in order to "enable us." With these presentations come quizzes and tests that contribute to a final grade, and that final grade is used during the yearly review to determine if you get raises/are fired. I finished towards the bottom third of my training class in the previous two trips out here, so I had additional pressure to get my shit together this week.

The reason why I picked this week to stop smoking, of all weeks, still eludes me.

Today was our last day of graded material. We had our last quiz, last presentations, and final test. I kicked its ass. I haven't done that well on a final since, well, ever. I did this by locking myself in my hotel room to study all week, and it paid off. I haven't been social, I haven't even eaten meals with people. I didn't want to get caught up in the social gatherings, and put myself near smokers.

Well, I felt pretty awesome about the whole ordeal, and I wanted to celebrate. My excuse-machine called "my brain" got right to work. "Just one, to celebrate! You've gone 4 days without a smoke, and you just accomplished a major goal with a lot of work. One celebratory cigarette wouldn't hurt. Just go ask the guys! They'll give you one for SURE."

The guys are Jay and Martin. They're the guys in my class who smoke. We had formed our little smoke community, which comes with certain responsibilities. We all know a bit too much about each others' personal lives at this point, and definitely are closer than we are to most of the rest of the group (or at least I am with them.) It comes with the territory of 3-4 breaks of 10 minutes a piece every day for half a year.

I mentioned responsibilities. The smoker's code. I'll probably devote an

entire post to smoker's code at some point, but one will suffice today. This particular item dictates that if a man is a smoker, you must give him one if he's out. Now, there are exceptions of course:

1.) If you only have one left in your pack, even if you're smoking one at the time, you have the right to reserve the lastie without judgement.

2.) If you don't know the guy in question, AND he doesn't have his own lighter, he's probably not a regular smoker and you can withhold the smoke.

3.) If it becomes a habit, use your own discretion as to when to cut him off.

I did not fit into any of these categories (I even had my own lighter because I feel naked without it) So I asked Jay if we could go out to celebrate. He knew I was trying to quit, and said "no."

"What?"

"I'm not going out, and neither are you."

"... *harumph*"

"wait, are you pissed?"

"no, Jay, you're right. I'll just take a walk."

And with that, I was gone. I walked around outside pantomiming a cigarette in my hand , hoping it'd make me forget there wasn't anything there. It didn't. I have to thank Jay for saving me from myself, I know it's for the best. I just feel badly now, trying to use Jay. I have no intention of ever buying a pack again, and I knew that at the time when I asked to bum that smoke. I asked anyways, flying in the face of all I hold true.

I am a firm believer in Item #2, if a dude isn't a smoker for real he should ball up and buy a damn pack. He is entitled to a borrowed cigarette if he will have them later to pass it on should the opportunity present itself. A "pay it forward" type of situation. I, however, was looking for Jay to subsidize my weakness. If I'm going to break, I should man up and buy a pack.

Not tonight, though. Off to celebrate like normal people: with lots of booze.

2011-01-26T21:04:00.000-06:00

SO MUCH RAGE I WOULD LIKE TO SMOKE BUT I CANNOT.

Two Summers Past

2011-01-25T17:19:00.002-06:00

I was smoking quite a bit during this summer, and putting on a sketch comedy review with some friends. Now that I'm thinking about it, we entitled the group/show "Everybody Smokes" because the whole group did, and it was a topic of conversation during a break. We had been tossing around a ton of ideas, but after someone had said it we knew right away that that's what we wanted to be called. It defined us, and it defined that summer.

I was working on that show during this particular memory, working on it at my friend's house (that I was practically an inhabitant of) with that friend. We were looking over a sketch he had written about Moses' conversation with God regarding the Ten Commandments. We were also discussing the many pros and sparse cons of going to the corner store to pick up 40s (40 oz bottles of malt liquor, Mickeys to be exact).

But these were fairly commonplace occurances, as the whole thing was. I guess I remember it for the way it felt. For a moment, I had stepped outside myself. I was gazing at my surroundings (while still telling Alex, my friend, that his sketch got too wordy towards the end and I didn't care if that was the point), and I was appreciating the moment I was in. The moment felt timeless.

So I lit a cigarette.

It was one of those perfect cigarettes. The inhale has just the right amount of burn to it. The weather was warm and a little humid, but only enough to remind you of the season. The air was embracing and almost encouraging me to keep doing what I was doing. The surroundings were familiar, but for a moment were more beautiful than normal. Alex lights one too, and we keep talking about the sketch, but we both know neither of our hearts are in it anymore. Eventually we both shut up and Alex puts on some music.

We both have a couple more cigarettes, largely in silence (save the music).

"You having another one?"
"Yep."
"Me too."

The whole "moment" couldn't have been longer than 20 minutes, but it was one of the more relaxing 20 minutes of my life. In a world with too many things to do, too many pressures and too many chances to screw up, the opportunity to have nothing on your plate except a number of cigarette butts and empty beer bottles was one of those small victories that can make you feel like maybe everything will be alright. You can watch the smoke hang in the air curling itself into oblivion and have an actual moment to yourself.

I'd be curious to know if Alex had felt that way too, if the moment was supernatural or an invention of my own overactive imagination. Either way, it was a smoking memory to treasure, and one of those "types of cigarettes" that I will truly miss.

Getting ahead of myself.

2011-01-24T19:15:00.002-06:00

I'd like to be explicitly clear: I am fed up with smoking. Future posts may suggest the contrary, but I have felt fed up and ready to quit for the better part of a year and a half. I have spent this past year smoking 5-10 cigarettes a day, which equates to at most an hour a day, staring down at the smoking stick of leaves in my fingers and hating myself. Drowning in self loathing because I couldn't find the willpower in myself, couldn't be bothered to not do something. I would go to great lengths to keep myself stocked, and when I ran out I stopped at nothing until I had one in my mouth.

There are a bunch of reasons to stop, and I've repeated each one to myself so many times they're almost second nature to recite: My breath smells. My teeth are getting yellow. Girls hate it. People hate it. You have to go outside in the winter. Non-smokers respect you less. It isn't professional. It's expensive. It's inconvenient. It's rude to excuse yourself from a group of friends, and even ruder when all those friends but one also smoke. You can't smell, reduced taste, and you're stuck with a constant 5 year cough,

Oh, and get this! One of my friends was reading the internet, and that friend told me the other day that cigarettes cause cancer! Good thing she reminded me, otherwise I would never have known.

The biggest downside I've been focusing on lately, however, isn't necessarily a constant side effect. As I've smoked for 5 years, I have built up an immunity to feeling like shit from smoking a cigarette. However, every once in a while, I get swept over by a wave of soul shaking badness. It's really a hard feeling to describe; it's almost as if your insides want to become your outsides, but they're trapped by that damn skin, and you're nauseous. More often than not I'm hung over when this happens, but sometimes I am just not at peace with the smoke and it's a truly awful feeling.

And that's really what motivated me this time more than anything else. On Saturday, after a night of NO DRINKING, I smoked 2 cigarettes within an hour of each other. The first one made me feel like shit. Then, of course, I did it again, and I felt like shit again. I couldn't stop myself, and I knew it. It was then, standing on my back porch playing my ukulele, that I first played around with the idea of quitting and blogging about it. I was out with my roommate but decided not to mention it; too many times I confess my hair-brained schemes in just such a situation only to have them go nowhere.

There was nothing profound about it, I simply looked at my pack like I normally do on my first of the day, to check if I need to go to the nearest gas station. I saw that I was pretty low and thought "you know, I should be hitting my last one when I get to O'Hare." From there, the idea took root. And now we're here: with me rambling to try and forget my cravings and watching Sarah Marshall. Tomorrow is another day.

Yes, I am avoiding you.

2011-01-24T14:47:00.002-06:00

I am on a half hour break at work. My second today. Normally, I'd be pumped. I could actually go to the bathroom, grab a snack and some water, AND have a leisurely cigarette. I wouldn't have to suck it down like normal, and then I'd have a bit of a cough for the next 20 minutes.

Now, on day 1, I am avoiding anything that could set me off. I'm cutting my awkward conversations shorter than normal. Not allowing myself to look outside, or else I'd longingly gaze at a world I am denying mysef access to. No physical symptom is making me want a cigarette, I am not experiencing any sort of pain, however I feel incomplete.

My pack isn't in my pocket, and I am painfully aware of it. I keep searching around my pockets as if I'll find some lost cig that I'd easily excuse myself to smoke. "It's just a fluke, and I paid money for it. Be a shame not to smoke it. Just this once."

But you haven't quit till you quit, says Eric Shine, and I haven't even begun.

Re-intention

2011-01-24T01:57:00.002-06:00

I still remember it through the haze: It was cold, I was drunk, and life was fairly simple. I was in my... sophomore year of college? It was some version of winter I wasn't a fan of and I had separated from my friends for a moment to stare down at my first cigarette. I was in the middle of two sidewalks meeting at an X in the middle of some quad, and I was having trouble standing up. "Holy shit, these actually give you a buzz. That's why people smoke them." Granted, I probably didn't put that sentence together quite so successfully at the time, but hindsight makes me a smooth motherfucker. The friend who gave me the smoke, Peter, came on over and asked me what's the matter?

"This is my first cigarette DUDE." I replied.

"Really? Paulie!!!! You want another one?" I think he said.

I replied with "Hell yea I do." or something to that effect, and I had my second cigarette right there with the man who proverbially broken my cigarette cherry not 5-7 minutes before. I don't remember the exact conversation because, well, it was 5 years ago and I was pretty damn drunk. However, I do remember looking down at that cigarette and staring intently at it, with almost a morbid curiosity; and I do remember that my good friend Peter was the one to give me that fated Camel Turkish Gold.

That was 5 years ago now, and I have been a smoker ever since. I now smoke roughly a half pack a day, and that's an accomplishment down from a pack a day. I'm 24 and starting to feel the consequences of my choices: constant coughing and wheezing, a checkbook that always seems lower than it should be, my wardrobe and car smell to high heaven, and my hands are permanently frostbitten. You'll notice that nowhere did I list any side effects like "being ridiculously cool," and that is by design. Cigarettes, I have learned, are really far from it. But I digress.

My goal is to quit. My goal is to quit smoking, and to blog about it. You see, like most smokers I have tried to quit any number of times. I was "successful" a couple times, spanning a month and an impressive 4, but I always came back for more, inevitably smoking more often than before. I realize they are bad for you. I REALIZE THEY ARE BAD FOR YOU. All smokers do; we're not dumb, and we don't need you to remind us. Let your friend smoke in peace.

*ahem*

Both of my previous attempts were squandered when I let stress get the better of me and made the mistake of "buying a pack for the one smoke and giving the rest away to my friends." Only I didn't give the rest to my friends. My brain came up with a litany of excuses to explain away the next fix, and sooner or later I was back at it. Since then I've tried any number of mental acrobatics and smoking plans to try and quit, and 95% of the time I can't get past hour 4. With all my closest friends being smokers, my girlfriend being a smoker, and my car trying to be (that was a bad car joke, friends) there were simply too many temptations and helping hands to stay strong.

That is why I have chosen to quit now. I am in Potomac, MD for a work convention for a week. There are only 2 smokers here and they hate bumming to people. I smoked my last cigarette outside of O'Hare Terminal 1, and it was a Camel Filtered. (at least they weren't Camel Lights, amiright?!) Packs here are 10 bucks a pop, and all they have are Camel Lights, and the entire Marlboro suite. In other words, temptation will be at a minimum.

As to why I've chosen to blog about it? Well, the idea is it'll be part therapeutic, part data collection, and part anecdotal. All with the goal of exploring the smoking culture as a whole, both as a personal issue and a social one, as a means of not only venting some of that nicotine rage but also as a means to keep myself honest. I think addiction is an interesting topic, one that I enjoy tossing around in my head.

It will not be easy, and I will not like it. There are parts of smoking I still very much enjoy to this day, despite how shitty it makes me feel on a near constant basis (in addition to the other amount of awful side effects of being a constant smoker). All good things do come with a price, however, and my lungs are now writing a check that my body can't cash anymore.

A good friend of mine told me once "you haven't quit till you've quit." and I am going to do exactly that. I aim to stop smoking cigarettes entirely, as of right now (or around 8pm CST yesterday), and I promise to be transparent with how many I smoke. While I've obviously quitting before, it's been a long time since I've had this much drive. So I'm calling this a re-intention, another attempt at realigning my priorities and making this number 1: not thinking about which Black-Ops perk-set is the best. I am Re-intent on quitting, and NOTHING WILL STAND IN MY WAY.

Block Party

2009-10-01T04:25:00.003-05:00

I've had trouble writing lately.

My trouble seems to be caused by my desire to write something profound when it seems nearly impossible to do so. In an age with information at your fingertips anywhere you go, originality is truly hard to come by. There's always someone who did it first, better, funnier, and with more page hits.

But alas, these attempts at complete thoughts continue to poke their head in when the sun has gone down and the general populace has retired. I think "well that'd make a GREAT blog post! Nobody else thinks the record industry is a big bummer, right?"

It barely takes 30 seconds for me to realize someone better informed than myself has already tackled the issue.

Then it goes back to the same old routine. I toss around the idea for a bit, fully convince myself that whatever I had to say wasn't worth saying, and then I check twitter or dino comics. Like most of the drivel that my brain comes up with, the idea dissolves into residual electrical charges waiting to become some memory involving The Legend of Zelda or old movie quotes.

This need to create only original material is crippling my ability to write, and I can't find the source of this craving. It's unreasonable, especially for a blog. A blog isn't an expert opinion, it's just a person's opinion. Odds are that that person is probably an idiot when it comes to most things, except for their passion that they're (hopefully) writing about.

Now it seems I have to find that passion. Until I do, I'm just another idiot simply restating what he read on digg.

Current Mood: =-?

2008-08-20T10:16:00.002-05:00

Motivation is an enigma to me. I can't seem to really nail down what the ingredients are to motivating myself. Sometimes it takes a clever ruse in my own head, tricking myself into hard work under the pretense that something good and most likely trivial will follow. Others, I have to consider the consequences of inaction. Still other times I find it's simply a switch that I can turn on at a spontaneous whim.

These, and others, are ways I've retroactively looked back and said "yes, that is what motivated me this past time. Perhaps it will motivate me in other similar situations. I shall try them." The problem is there doesn't seem to be any correlation between situations and their motivational solutions. I'll try any number of those techniques to help myself out, but to no avail most of the time. It's so odd to me: to want to be motivated to do something but not actually be motivated? I mean, I am by definition telling myself "I would like this to be done," and then I somehow lack the interest and drive to actually do anything about it.

I am lying to myself somewhere in that thought process. The key is to figure out where. Clearly I don't want to do the things I'm trying to do, or I'm not as willing to do the work required as I thought. Or, I need to crack the code. Either way, I need to do something fast. College doesn't graduate itself... or something like that.

This is essentially a college-aged high school xanga post. ":( i don't know who i am :( cmmnt plz!"

Message in a Bottle

2008-07-13T15:47:00.003-05:00

Dear Scarlett Johansson,

You may not know me, but I've seen about half of your movies. I am what I consider to be a mediocre fan. The Island was not your best work. I was wondering... would you want to fly down to east-central Illinois (it's a state between LA and NY. Don't worry about it.) and have a threesome with me and my girlfriend? Don't concern yourself with lodgings, we will provide. Yes, my house has no air conditioning, and is populated by 5 other guys who will most likely make advances on you, but there is plenty here that will offset that. We have a beer pong table, a great ham and egg bagel, and a wii! After the rampant threesome, we will take you out on the town here in Champaign-Urbana. We'll head to the popular bars, but make sure to pack closed toe shoes; the floor can get a bit sticky. Followed by a hearty breakfast, and perhaps a quickie before your flight.

I am trusting that this letter will find you, and I'm hoping that you will at least take a moment to consider it. I'll tell you one thing: I'd definitely go watch that other half of your movies if you came.

Sincerely,
Paul Casperson (and Teresa)
casperson.paul@gmail.com ;-*

2008: A Techno Odyssey

2008-06-10T10:23:00.002-05:00

I find the progression of the role of technology in our lives incredibly fascinating. Being alive, young, and ready to spend countless hours tinkering with gadgets and computers, I've been technologically minded since my first foray with The Legend of Zelda. From my understanding, which may be skewed due to my young age, The 90's were the first decade in which computers affected society in a major way. Everything from business, home life, even music was altered due to the rise of the personal computer.

A lot of rhetoric I've read from the 90's (and 80's I guess) seemed to postulate that the personal computer was taking over. Calculators were making kids bad at math. Video games were rotting kids brains. Electronic conversation was negating the need for personal interaction. Computers and technology were slowly taking over the "American way of life" and soon we were going to be an entire country/world of people that are completely engulfed by technology; completely losing sight of what it means to be human.

But now we are almost in the 2010's. Technology has changed. Businesses have become smarter. Gadgets and computers are being marketed as "life-aides" instead of "life-changers." The general trend of the products being released nowadays is that they are portable, provide as much information and connection with the internet as possible (for the purpose of obtaining this information whenever you may need it while leading your life), and fast.

It's almost as if products today are made to help you get things done faster so that you have more time to do whats important to you. This would be a big change from the 90's, when everybody first discovered the magic of a personal computer, and the internet. People were fascinated with what these new things could do, the limits and bounds of these new machines. Naturally, people became obsessed and technology boomed.

But what is out today that isn't just a modified and minified version of something released in 1990? Everyone's seen a computer, a laptop, a phone, a music player. Now all of these things are being combined and compressed, but they're still old news. Consumers have gotten bored of PC's, and more importantly used to the idea of them. Now new releases in technology have more of a base of experience to draw from.

Although I'm disappointed by the lack of people-moving walkways and flying cars, I think I'll live with my laptop, xbox 360, and morning coffee and newspaper. There's balance in everything.

Expression

2008-06-09T13:53:00.004-05:00

There is something incredibly therapeutic about "making" art. The creation of art uses parts of the brain that are totally different from the parts that govern your everyday life. Playing an instrument is an entirely different action, requiring the other half of your brain, than going to the store or talking to people or calculating a 20% tip. Doodling just feels different than going to work or brushing your teeth. It's an engaging, always changing, and pleasant experience.

I guess it's not the creation of art per se, but rather the expression of oneself.

I've started to pick up a guitar now and then to tool around, with the eventual goal of being somewhat proficient. Despite the fact that I don't actually know very many chords nor do I in any way consider myself a "guitar player," Making music with it was simply wonderful. I felt as if there was a part of me coming out through the notes and rhythms that doesn't normally. I was basically hearing myself think in a much different way than I usually do with my ongoing inner dialog.

Here's to hoping that I'm not the only one with an ongoing inner dialog. *clink*

I get a similar but different feeling from performing. As an aspiring improv comedian, I am up on stage 2-3 times a week creating drama and comedy all at the tip of a hat. There are ideas and
themes and thoughts flowing out of me at an incredible rate. The only way to be successful at harnessing that information to trust that you know how to improv and not focus on the action. To basically open your mind and react as fast as you know how. As a result, a lot of things that an improv performer is thinking about at the time comes out in some way on stage.

Expressing myself in that way is the best feeling I've ever had. Ignoring the rush I get from finding that golden special place in my brain where I've abandoned all thought and am essentially a part of the scene, improv also provides an outlet for the topics on my mind at the moment. Having the opportunity to play out the hypothetical situations I inevitably create for myself during the aforementioned inner dialogs is incredibly refreshing.

Maybe my enjoyment from art (which includes improv by my def) comes from my upbringing. I was always encouraged to play music (piano, trumpet), do theatre (2.5 years of hs, improv in hs and college), and I even went through a drawing phase. I've grown up with art all around me, and therefore the creation of it is something that I enjoy. It's hard for me to imagine a life that does not have a whole lot of creativity in it, it seems like a life I would absolutely hate living. But, that is why I clearly don't.

So if you find yourself regretting how long it's been since you've practiced piano, or tried drawing something, or even written something, then just do it. Gain some balance in your life. Even if it's been years since you've played your instrument, or you don't know how to play one at all, it's still fun.

Enough preaching. Here's a sweet video I just re-found.

A memory is worth a thousand pictures...

2008-06-06T10:51:00.002-05:00

I've never really been one for taking and keeping pictures. As a child I adopted the particularly expensive habit of video and trading card games, and therefore put most money and christmas requests towards those, which made sure I never really owned a camera. I've had a few cheap ones in the past, all which I've lost (and were non digital). When at parties it never really occurs to me to stop for photo ops, nor do I go wild over the concept of a camera being aimed at me.

The concept of taking still photos, or movies, of the events happening in my life in order to document them seems to be fairly unimportant to me. I have accrued dismally low amounts of visual memorabilia during the first 21 years of my life; arguably the portion I'd want to document the most (considering all the damage I'm doing to my memory these days). I'm assuming later in life I'd love to sit down and look at pictures of people and things from earlier in my life and reminisce; something I enjoy doing well enough as it is.

However, my photo library is decidedly non-existent despite the full knowledge that I very well may regret it later. I may have been more motivated had everyone else around me not had cameras, but as it stands I'm content looking at other people's pictures. Unfortunately those pictures will not be around forever; facebook will eventually go out of business or lose a large majority of it's database, people will delete their photos or lose them in tragic HDD accidents, or generally just not care enough to carry those photos with them.

And whose to blame them? A large majority of pictures used for nostalgic purposes are fairly mundane. People saying cheese and smiling. Where is the appeal in that? For now it's a great reminder of the events of the past few years ("hey that was a sweet party!" "Oh man I can't believe he had a mohawk!" "haha remember when we Eiffel towered that monkey?") Unfortunately, the locations and circumstances of most of the photos I look at now will be lost to me in a few years. They will simply be a reminder of the people I knew, and the smile I could produce at a moments notice.

If I really cared, I could take slightly more "real" pictures. Pictures of places, people, things that I enjoy. More candid, less planned. Snapshots of my life in reality.

I realize that this may be a common thought and one that has been brooded over quite a bit, which is most likely why photography has such a following.

On the opposite side of things, the side I usually line up on, I think that maybe it's not the worst thing in the world. I remember the things that are memorable, taking with me the lessons those things have taught me, and I forget the rest in favor of more admirable pursuits. While remembering and appreciating the past is very important both for emotional stability as well as self improvement, I believe that only goes so far. At some point attention has to be paid to the present, not to mention the future. It's hard to develop as a person when you brood over the past.

Plus, it's a lot more fun when a memory suddenly comes rushing back unannounced.

People Watching

2008-06-02T13:47:00.005-05:00

If you really want to see the pure mechanics of what a conversation is, the building blocks of verbal communication, observe a conversation between co-workers at a restaurant at lunch. Or a study group at the beginning of the semester. Really any group of people who don't know each other at all and are trying to make conversation.

Conversation always moves so slow in those situations. Someone will make a statement, another will respond usually in agreement, and if they're lucky a third person will chime in. Then silence. Time to think about what to say next, awkward drink of your water that you absolutely did not need, and then someone makes another statement.

It's so fun and interesting to watch a group of people that are completely uncomfortable in their own bodies. The shifting, inability to look at one another, and a ridiculous obsession with the rice in the plate in front of you. People take very involved sips of their drinks, focusing intently on the glass and it's flight path from the table to their mouths. It's completely obvious that the person drinking is in some way escaping the awkward situation at least for a brief moment; using the fact that he is drinking his drink to hide the fact that he doesn't have anything to say to the group around him. But nobody needs to focus that much on drinking a beverage, and we all know it.

Why do we feel like we have to go through that elaborate charade? Being pleasant is safe, and keeps interaction from being tense, but it's all just a game. What would the world be like if we all went to lunch together and just ate our damn food. If we dont' like each other, why pretend?

The next time my boss talks to me about how hot some random girl on the street is, maybe I won't laugh it off and agree, mabye I'll punch him in the goddamn face. That would feel nice.

3...2...1... GO! tweet

2008-05-30T12:29:00.000-05:00

It's been an express desire of mine to start writing on a consistent basis for a long time now. I own a xanga that I've written in since I was 16, essentially using it as a glorified diary. Something to write down the events of my day, to catalog random thoughts, and to horde attention from my friends. That was all well and good until I realized that I sounded like a 13 year old girl at times, and frankly I'm pretty scared of internet predators.

Upon this realization I decided it was time to renew my efforts. I was going to be a high brow blogger, come hell or high water! Only ideologies, philosophy, politics, war, and the occasional album recommendation (Radiohead is soooo in right now) were to grace my glorious xanga. I did that for a while only to to discover that posting legitimate thought on xanga is like posting the Communist Manifesto inside a bathroom stall: most people don't get it, and those who do don't really have the time or desire to read it in whilst on the can.

So here I am. Kicking off a (hopefully) worthwhile relationship with blogspot with the infamous "I'm here now lolz!" post. As much as it's cheesy, and way overdone, I think that it's totally necessary. There are so many things and/or events that I attend that I think would be benefited by a buzzer or a whistle or a foghorn. Hell, you could blow a conch shell for all I care. All I usually want is some sort of indication that whatever I'm at or doing is starting. A general notice of "Stop what you were doing to entertain yourself before this thing started, because it's starting... NOW. *tweet*"

If the workday started with a buzzer, I'd probably be on time way more often.

To end my first post, I guess I'll give you a bullet list of things to expect if/when you choose to read this self indulgent webpage. (Did I really just call it a webpage? Am I living in 1995?)

What to expect; a list!
-A horrid misuse of "it's" and "its".
-Lots of parenthetical statements (because they are oh so much fun).
-The occasional drug reference?
-A little bit of rambling on any given topic.
-Disjointed thoughts in single sentences between somewhat thought out points.
-4 posts a week. This is a promise.
-Too many old internet references .
-A sometimes childish outlook on life.
-An obsession with music.
-An obsession with lists.
-A neverending plethora of "big kid words".
-An in-depth look at the thoughts that ruminate in my own head, hopefully in an attempt to make you familiar with myself as a person as well as provide (hopefully) new outlooks on already existing topics.

*tweet*