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Peace.
Life is tough shit. The closest the human race has ever gotten to finding the meaning of life is with a series of questions- which came first, the chicken or the egg? If a tree falls and nobody can hear it, does it make noise? It’s all ambiguous, and yet, we still dig. Dig to understand why we, of all living creatures, are able to thrive, and in doing so, destroy the world which we inhabit. Is it God’s will that man be evil. Did mother nature intend on creating a race that dominates her. Maybe we can understand this by making science out of the sky or maybe we can leave everything to chance and have faith in something (anything).
In writing this post, I want to gauge my perception of life now. In this moment, what do I think of life, and I will follow up in December to see if anything has changed. Here is my take. The modern world revolves around one key concept- capitalism. It doesn’t matter if you are China or Russia, free markets, and even black markets, keep the world sane. So what does that mean for us? the civilians who sit quietly while world leaders attempt to remedy stiff situations that are literally impossible to penetrate. What do they know? We are the only ones who feel the effects.
They tell us to go to school, reach for higher education, and then what? Settle down, have a family, populate, and circulate the economy. But we are more than that. We are individuals not a mass census of generalized beings. I cannot say, however, that we all have a special calling. For one, it is too idealistic to say that each person has a specific talent to change the world, and two, if that were the case then why would we need to settle down? While we all start off with potential, we realize down the road that we just lost it.
That is life as we know it. The individual works hard only to lose it all. Still, people are all different. We have the social butterflies, who seem content with throwing themselves into anything that is popular just to be accepted. We have the shy, who lack enough confidence to raise their voices. And we have the douches, who seem to know everything and is bigger and better than you. Do they lose it all too? Are we all doomed with a monotonous 9 to 5, middle class?
I guess what I’m saying is, we all strive to reach the top, to be those rich guys, the guys with power. Somewhere along that path we get side tracked and it all goes downhill. So basically, what separates the middle class from the elite, upper class? The meaning of life is to get ahead. To have more leisure time than your peers, to be able to use valet and tip with bills, and to have extravagant parties in your name. That is what I am for, like any other capitalistic product. We were just fortunate to have it called something more inspiring- the American Dream.
As far as religion goes, I am in a dark place, and I can only hope that I pull myself out of the devil’s grasp. I feel him clenching his fists around my throat. This is my life at this point- broken, deserted, and stained. If inner peace exists, I pray to God I find it soon, end of December soon.
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if one breath could move mountains
Richie is your average kid. Being a product of Capitalist America, he lives in a suburbs not far from Los Angeles with divorced parents. And here he is- body bent over, eyes and hand scouring the floor as if he was a dog searching for anything that could that could satisfy is salivating hunger. He had a knack for catching me off guard with his bigger than life commentary.
“This is bullshit,” he exclaimed and broke me out of my thoughtless search. “What’s the point of school? You learn and forget.”
This was the difference between us. While we were both eight years old and only thought of making a name for ourself, I forced my path to be the straight and arrow. That meant school work and college. Richie, on the other hand, gave up on school and instead of trying to leave this rut we call home, embraced it.
“Well, we gotta learn. I guess.”
“We’re friends and as your friend there are two things I’m going to teach you.” He also had a knack for being right. “The first is that we’re homies and we never turn on each other. The second is that in every corner someone is going to kill you.”
“Kill you? You’re retarded. Oh hey! I found one!”
We were behind a 7-11 that stood outside the furthest corner of our elementary school. Elementary school is the epitome of hope. Every room had a sign that read our college graduation date. Yet, here we are now.
The back of 7-11 didn’t have much to offer. The black top was cracked and worn and the only pretty sight were cigarette butts that literally acted as a carpet over the pathetic ground.
From the ground I picked up a butt that maybe had four hits.
“That’s shit dude.” Richie slapped it out of my hand. “But what I’m saying is we gotta join a gang if we want to continue living.”
Now the suburbs we grew in was nothing like what you see in the movies. There were no warring gangs, no drug mafias, and no gun toting lunatics. But I sort of understood what he was saying.
“A gang? my mom would kill me”
“What’s your mom gonna say when you get jumped or when you fail school? Life’s too short for studying. What do you get out of it? A job doing something you absolutely hate!”
“What would being in a gang solve?”
“You get protection, you get to do whatever you want, and gangs always have money.”
I wasn’t too sure where all of this was coming from but I knew he hated his situation. His parents worked endlessly and even then he was having a hard time getting by. Maybe he didn’t want to be a burden on them, maybe he only saw hope in being a part of a group where everyone was watching out for each other.
“I guess. Hey, lets go back to my place. I’ll try to steal one of my dad’s reds.”
“Yeah! lets do it!”
I just wanted to make him happy.
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me on a daily basis
(Source: spacemanhobo, via dontfallithurts)
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Home is where the Heart is
Exactly one year ago, at this very time, I was cooped in my room marking and editing my college essays. My time has come. This was my chance to leave home, my chance to make a man of myself, and my chance at real happiness. Now, as I return home for the second time since leaving to Santa Barbara, I can’t readily explain my feelings.
I find myself homesick sometimes at SB- mostly because I feel like my ties at back at home are pulling me back. But it’s not the same anymore. It’s a mess. Lynn doesn’t give two shits about me, none of my friends seem to be enjoying themselves, and I can only watch as everything crumbles right before my eyes. I guess I brought it on myself. I feel stupid hoping that I could feel welcome and loved back at home. I love SB and I miss it as I sit here in Christian’s living room moping over Lynn and over how the old days used to be.
I can’t handle this place and I’m glad I got out, because there really is nothing here for me to come home to. I thought that one person who would always care for me would be waiting with her arms stretched wide to embrace me. I am stupid, yet again, for believing that everything would be alright. I can only believe that all of these bad vibes are signs that are trying push me away. And I will do just that.
A complete transformation. I will quit smoking, go to the gym, attend mass, and be at my full potential. Life can only move forward, and so, I say cheers to the end of my life in Orange County, cheers to the new days, and cheers for everyone whose life is going downhill.
“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”
-Hemingway, Farewell to Arms
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If you are a young neurotic artist, everyone, including yourself, expects you to die young. But yet you keep living to everyone’s surprise. Only to try to figure out why.
(Source: ireadintothings)
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Legalization
As a religious stoner myself, I would love to see my favorite recreation legalized. But it cannot be that simple. I would love to go to a cafe and order a couple of joints with my tea, however, the direction we’re taking this whole Prop 19 may be all wrong. Sure California can generate millions in tax dollars, reallocate criminal defense resources, and save the state from impending doom. The only problem is that we see Prop 19 so embellished with freedom to smoke, that we don’t take a step back and analyze its grassroots effects.
First and foremost, 62% of people who smoke are under the age of 18. Prop 19 dictates that it is legal for those 21 and over. Thus, it would be quite some time before any results can be seen. This is further proved but current American ideals. Legal or not, smoking marijuana is, at its core, a morality issue. So not only will it those over 21 be reluctant to smoke, but could also denounce marijuana overall. The percentage of older smokes will not be able to meet the quota of taxes revenue the state is looking for. It is not the idea of legalization that is screwed up, its the poorly written prop 19.
The more important details of legalization is transactions between stoner and dealer. When cars were first made, the few models around must’ve cost a fortune. As the assembly line style factory developed the cost for a vehicle decreased because so many of them were being made. In the same light, marijuana deals right now are in its prime. Growers are the people who have a vision and love for pot. With Prop 19 passing, it could easily turn marijuana into a factory tycoon where quality is significantly sacrificed for quantity so a few entrepreneurs can reap all the rewards. In the same sense as the cars, prices will drop and we will forever be in an age for shitty weed.
Stoners are somewhat in a cult. A cult of people who love to do what they do and are proud of it despite being attacked by cops, incessant parents, and nosey neighbors. If capitalism is allowed to manke a monopoly of a sacred tradition it will push stoners into the dark ages. Don’t get me wrong, legalization is a great idea, but, given California’s current state of decay, it is not the time. At least not the time for Prop 19 to shine.
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People of the edge of the night
It’s funny how in a world of negativity and pessimism the media stands as a liaison to our happiness, or most of the time our sadness. News reporters claw away at finding stories that make the streets look like a fucked up war zone, songs on the radio blast away at heart wrenching tunes- well, it’s probably not as bad as I make it sound but the media definitely has a control on us. Marilyn Manson, the shock rock superstar, made a prediction that the more the news channels make us tear up, the more inclined we are to buy products that show up on commercials with actors who know how to smile. As capitalism succeeds the big CEOs get money and the average Joe burns a hole in his wallet.
The reality of it all is that in the world we live in, Money is the greatest deity of all. Believe it or not, we are sucked into it. Sure, I could probably drop all of my possessions and join a band of penniless monks who get by on spirituality alone, but I can’t. Especially not in my family. My mom raised a family of five kids, where I sit as the second youngest and the only to be accepted in a prestigious college. She also looked me in the eyes the other day after complaining about my sister never being home and my brothers not making anything of themselves, and told me that I was her last hope.
I took education on my own motivation and most of the time angry at the absence of my parents when I needed them most. They were always out on their business ventures while I grew up following the more degenerate teenage culture I was exposed to. Yet, I survived and here I am- my mom’s only hope. They say that you are your own worst critic but this looming shadow of my parents is starting to give chills as I get ready to leave for college in a few weeks.
I have to win. For myself, I have to be the greatest at what I do- a prominent journalist and a respected lawyer. Most importantly, I have to buy a Maserati before I am 27. For my parents, I have to be the son that saves the family from the pay check to pay check life-style. It doesn’t sound to difficult in my head, but I know a bloody and merciless battle ahead of me. These are the stakes and I have to win. After all… money is everthing?
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Walmart Love
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Trainwreck
Depression. Rock bottom. Waking up with no desire to make anything of myself, and yet, my depression deepens as I realize my life is not amounting to anything. I am not some emo fuck who writes about depression to bitch about it. Lets just say I’ve had enough experience to know the difference between a mood swing and what I am feeling now. My first run in with depression resulted in my addiction to Xanax. Popped a couple bars before school and time flew hours by the minute. I would walk around campus with a big friendly smile and talk to most people I would never even glance at had I been sober. Then, everyday after school, I’d light up a blunt and embarrass myself at track practice. I thought that was it- happiness. I was on a roll. Drugs, drugs, and more drugs.
I pulled myself out when things got hot at school and home and I stayed relatively happy until about two weeks ago. I had no idea what was happening. Everything came rushing back to me. To cope, I let every one treat me like shit and I liked it because I felt human. I felt as if any sort of interaction would save me from my own demented thoughts. I let my ex girlfriend use the shit out of me and stab me in the back over and over again. That whoring bitch. It was two weeks ago that I discovered Codeine. Man, when I mixed that with my blunt it was euphoria + full body massage + head from Kristen Cavallari. My mind became a black hole that sucked up every thought and I became a zombie. I stayed in the same state when I was sober. I cursed myself for being a loser, cursed myself for falling for the same trap, and cursed myself for being me.
I stare in the mirror, throw on my confident face, and fill my head up with arbitrary motivational bullshit. I don’t know. Maybe it helps. All I really know is that when fall comes and I’m out of this rut that I call home, I can really live my life again. I’ll be in college far away from mess that currently is my life. The moral here, I guess, is to keep moving. When you feel like shit, get the fuck out of your same monotonous lifestyle and start anew. It’ll be hard, but fuck it. Happiness will be there. At least that is what I’m praying for.
