If at any time in the last 3 years someone were to ask me what's wrong, girls and school would probably have been the answer. Or, in the few occasions where my frustration could not be reduced to girls and school, girls and school probably still found its way into the confusion. This term was no exception. Girls and school consistently get me down. How can I free myself from the turmoil, set here in front of me?
"All of us have been trained by education and environment to seek personal gain and security, and to fight for ourselves. Though we cover it over with pleasant phrases, we have been educated for various professions within a system which is based on exploitation and fear. Such a trainign must inevitably bring confusion and misery to ourselves and the world, for it creates in each indivisual those psychological barriers which separate and hold him apart from others."
-Krishnamurti, "Education & The Significance of Life"
"Girls of the world aint nothin' but trouble!"
-Will Smith, aka Fresh Prince, "Girls aint nothin' but trouble."
All better! Inspiration can be found around every corner.
Actually, I shouldn't act as though I'm really that shallow. I suggest everyone read Krishnamurti with an open heart, and not as a means of getting over personal frustrations by making excuses for themselves. It's a good read, but a bit repetative.
Also, despite all evidence to support it, I still have faith in the belief that girls are not actually the direct spawn of evil, put on this earth to collectively destroy the beauty and piety of men and their souls.
P1: Hell is hot, too hot for the devil to have, or care about having, nice hair.
P2: Girls have, and care about having, nice hair
--
Conc: Girls are not the devil. (According to Leibniz's law of identity)
The above argument is one of my few remaining arguments in defense of the sanctity of female kind. I'm hoping for a stronger argument to come around.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Tonic 1, Me 0...
...and by that I mean, I've been to Tonic once, and I got nothing out of it.
Actually, I'm too lazy to check, but I may have been to...no no wait, that was Pearl Lounge. Ha, yea i've actually never been to Tonic before last night. Tonic sucks. I'm thinking now to that time I served this guy from tonic nightclub at the bank, and he had the whole, "I'm from a Nightclub, everybody knows me...or should" attitude. In retrospect, he has very little reason to be proud. The greeks enjoyed themselves, they were all over the music. I tried. I'd have to say drunk white guys stumbling around drunk are about as annoying on the dancefloor as shy stationary chinese guys. I had my drink spilled partially on my shirt, a beer thrown at me and a backslap from some guy. I think the beer was intended to hit the girl beside me, but it landed by my feet. The backhand was accidental, and I'd be a hypocrit to get mad about it, cuz I got some girl in her mouth soon after. Nice girl, she was good about.
I gotta reach a soca fete this summer. More importantly, I have to resume my clubbing retirement. Although, it is true that I haven't been clubbing unless it was VIP in ages, and there'll be more VIP action next week
Exams are done.
Professor Seager has informally accepted me, so I'm probably going to do a supervised independent study with him. I need to find a provacative subject related to the philosophy of mind. This other guy is already doing metaphysics and mind theory, I was thinking of being ambitious and maybe doing Existentialism, mind-theory, and the philosophy of being and not being in more recent chinese philosophy That's just a shot in the dark though. This summer I'm going to do some solid reading for philosophy and if I can sit in on a few classes.
There hasn't been particularly much on my mind other than exams, love and soccer, love of soccer. I'm making an effort not to write about love-not-had anymore. The better conclusions are the ones you make while being in love. So wait for those, they're soon to come.
As for soccer, today I celebrated the end of exams in the best of ways - a pickup game of soccer with half of the UofT varsity team (and some other guys) versus some team with Chilean guys. After a quick scrimmage with the varsity boys to warm up (i haven't played outdoor soccer since november) we started the game and I was put on the spanish team because they were missing players. I'll have you know we ran them 4-1. I scored the first goal and made some dirty plays. A quite validating experience. Tri-campus whaaat! Varsity aint got shit on me!
Actually, I'm too lazy to check, but I may have been to...no no wait, that was Pearl Lounge. Ha, yea i've actually never been to Tonic before last night. Tonic sucks. I'm thinking now to that time I served this guy from tonic nightclub at the bank, and he had the whole, "I'm from a Nightclub, everybody knows me...or should" attitude. In retrospect, he has very little reason to be proud. The greeks enjoyed themselves, they were all over the music. I tried. I'd have to say drunk white guys stumbling around drunk are about as annoying on the dancefloor as shy stationary chinese guys. I had my drink spilled partially on my shirt, a beer thrown at me and a backslap from some guy. I think the beer was intended to hit the girl beside me, but it landed by my feet. The backhand was accidental, and I'd be a hypocrit to get mad about it, cuz I got some girl in her mouth soon after. Nice girl, she was good about.
I gotta reach a soca fete this summer. More importantly, I have to resume my clubbing retirement. Although, it is true that I haven't been clubbing unless it was VIP in ages, and there'll be more VIP action next week
Exams are done.
Professor Seager has informally accepted me, so I'm probably going to do a supervised independent study with him. I need to find a provacative subject related to the philosophy of mind. This other guy is already doing metaphysics and mind theory, I was thinking of being ambitious and maybe doing Existentialism, mind-theory, and the philosophy of being and not being in more recent chinese philosophy That's just a shot in the dark though. This summer I'm going to do some solid reading for philosophy and if I can sit in on a few classes.
There hasn't been particularly much on my mind other than exams, love and soccer, love of soccer. I'm making an effort not to write about love-not-had anymore. The better conclusions are the ones you make while being in love. So wait for those, they're soon to come.
As for soccer, today I celebrated the end of exams in the best of ways - a pickup game of soccer with half of the UofT varsity team (and some other guys) versus some team with Chilean guys. After a quick scrimmage with the varsity boys to warm up (i haven't played outdoor soccer since november) we started the game and I was put on the spanish team because they were missing players. I'll have you know we ran them 4-1. I scored the first goal and made some dirty plays. A quite validating experience. Tri-campus whaaat! Varsity aint got shit on me!
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Like I could really wait until the 21st...
I sat in on a management ethics class today for the sheer novelty of it. After about an hour and a half my mind began to wander and I had a thought about the old days. Yes, the early nineties. I remembered what it was like growing up with the ever active horemones of a young man.
I was always the observer, and not by choice. Love was so personal then, it was my own. To a large extent it was all in my head and rarely actualized in the phyiscal world. I have to give Adam (from the story of Adam and Eve) some credit, he had some guts. His barrier between himself and the apple was God himself, and yet still he feasted from the tree of knowledge. Back then, the barrier between myself and the apple of my eye was my own insecurity and rather then climb the tree I simply settled for the grass. (If I smoked weed to compensate for sexual frustration, that would've been a wicked metaphor!)
But there was still something very beautiful about those youthful emotions. Even though they were rarely actualized, they were such vivid emotions that it never really mattered. The vague thoughts of what it would feel like just to feel her hair, just to have her close to me, just to have her eyes meet mine with warmth and perhaps even a smile, that feeling of anticipation ran deep inside me and kept me warm, like good rum.
"What it would be like..." was the question back then. High school came around and I got my answer - not with her of course, what funny chubby shy kid ever gets that privilege? No, "what it would be like" became a far less personal question in high school, far less subjectve. And as the horemones persisted and the desperation increased I lost track of what I really meant when I used to ask that question, and I just wanted to know what it would be like, to touch hair, to feel skin...the eyes were less important. Eventually, lucky me, I got my answer - law of averages, I suppose - and the quesiton faded away.
It's a common conception that when beauty is lost, it's lost for good, but the beauty of personal desire for me has been botoxed. In that brief instant in management ethics I had a vivid recollection of those feelings while looking at some girl across the way in a pink hoody. Funny thing is, it wasn't even really her that mattered, she simply sparked that thought. I don't know her at all. Romantically, she's about as significant as a match, that sparks the flame that lights the fire that keeps me warm; two rocks or a lighter would've done the same for me.
Who's my fire? Who is it that keeps me warm? Answering that question for sure, on my own, in my basement on a monday night is about as hard as building a fire, on my own, on an island on any night! I'd love to say that the previous comparison was weak, because after years of experience you would certainly know how to build a fire on your own, but after years of experience with trying to answer "who's my fire" on my own, I'm pretty much where I started, clueless. Fact is, my metaphor is actually rather strong. After years of failing to produce an answer to that question I've realised that there's very little merit in trying to answer it on my own; that approach is now dead. And if I ever took this long to build a fire on a deserted island on my own, well I'd be dead. Incorporated into my standard for desire now is reciprocity. I need to feel that what I feel is also felt for me. If I can't get that from you, that I can only tell you that you're not my flame because between the two of us, we're clearly out of matches!
I suppose I didn't really lie, I'm still saving talk about philosophy until after exams. Which is the 22nd instead apparently. It never really ends.
I was always the observer, and not by choice. Love was so personal then, it was my own. To a large extent it was all in my head and rarely actualized in the phyiscal world. I have to give Adam (from the story of Adam and Eve) some credit, he had some guts. His barrier between himself and the apple was God himself, and yet still he feasted from the tree of knowledge. Back then, the barrier between myself and the apple of my eye was my own insecurity and rather then climb the tree I simply settled for the grass. (If I smoked weed to compensate for sexual frustration, that would've been a wicked metaphor!)
But there was still something very beautiful about those youthful emotions. Even though they were rarely actualized, they were such vivid emotions that it never really mattered. The vague thoughts of what it would feel like just to feel her hair, just to have her close to me, just to have her eyes meet mine with warmth and perhaps even a smile, that feeling of anticipation ran deep inside me and kept me warm, like good rum.
"What it would be like..." was the question back then. High school came around and I got my answer - not with her of course, what funny chubby shy kid ever gets that privilege? No, "what it would be like" became a far less personal question in high school, far less subjectve. And as the horemones persisted and the desperation increased I lost track of what I really meant when I used to ask that question, and I just wanted to know what it would be like, to touch hair, to feel skin...the eyes were less important. Eventually, lucky me, I got my answer - law of averages, I suppose - and the quesiton faded away.
It's a common conception that when beauty is lost, it's lost for good, but the beauty of personal desire for me has been botoxed. In that brief instant in management ethics I had a vivid recollection of those feelings while looking at some girl across the way in a pink hoody. Funny thing is, it wasn't even really her that mattered, she simply sparked that thought. I don't know her at all. Romantically, she's about as significant as a match, that sparks the flame that lights the fire that keeps me warm; two rocks or a lighter would've done the same for me.
Who's my fire? Who is it that keeps me warm? Answering that question for sure, on my own, in my basement on a monday night is about as hard as building a fire, on my own, on an island on any night! I'd love to say that the previous comparison was weak, because after years of experience you would certainly know how to build a fire on your own, but after years of experience with trying to answer "who's my fire" on my own, I'm pretty much where I started, clueless. Fact is, my metaphor is actually rather strong. After years of failing to produce an answer to that question I've realised that there's very little merit in trying to answer it on my own; that approach is now dead. And if I ever took this long to build a fire on a deserted island on my own, well I'd be dead. Incorporated into my standard for desire now is reciprocity. I need to feel that what I feel is also felt for me. If I can't get that from you, that I can only tell you that you're not my flame because between the two of us, we're clearly out of matches!
I suppose I didn't really lie, I'm still saving talk about philosophy until after exams. Which is the 22nd instead apparently. It never really ends.
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