lordpeter
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2011 22 February :: 7.23am
:: Mood: thoughtful
:: Music: Coldplay
Dying
I'm doing this poetry analysis on Percy Shelley's sonnet Ozymandias. If you know the work, then you'll recognize that the brevity of human existence is a theme undeniably touched on in the piece. Its a common motif in art. Everyone dies.
But in the books I read, the movies I watch, their lives are made immortal through their works. I watched the Matrix this weekend, and as disappointing as I found the second and third installments Neo will continue forever, in or outside of the source code, or whatever techno-fantasy justification exists for his perpetuated existence. Because he was a bad-ass who, despite the ability to do basically whatever the fuck he wanted, only manifested his power in the ability to fly, master martial arts, and stop bullets. Not a creative messiah, but a god in his own world.
And isn't that the way of them all? Even nonfictional accounts are a testimony to the subject, and even if they die they are encapsulated forever and shelved in a library near you.
They say you're the hero of your own story. And often enough the hero doesn't die, and in that way he lives doubly. The story ends, he fells Voldemort, destroys the Ring, survives Tarmon Gaidon, gets the Bluth Company out of trouble, WHATEVER. And then he's not only locked away for the rest of eternity, but their fictitious lives have years left to wile away on imagined future greatness, or to simply enjoy.
All of this aimless, unfocused musing is just a response to breakfast today. The Glee Club leads the singing of the last verse of the Alma Mater when a graduate of West Point is killed in action. And that's gonna make you think. The odds are tremendously in your favor. This is the first that has died this school year, which is terrific right? But nevertheless, just by taking the oath you accept that you're gambling your life. Sure, I might be more likely to die in a car accident or have a sixteen ton anvil fall on my head, but these are accidents and Acts of Acme, and are negligible risks that we are forced to take by living.
Becoming a 'professional warrior' just invites death to be a part of your life.
Which made me think about how unimmortal 1LT Daren Hidalgo is. We sang him a song, and for a moment his name resonated in the entire Corps, but its a brief moment really. Sure, he's got friends and family that will remember him longer, but it will dull and fade, only to be recalled achingly at particular moments. And they'll die, the only thing really keeping him from ultimate death. And then he'll really be dead. Totally, irrevocably dead after a score and some change of life. He went to school for almost his whole life, and in less than two years out of the gate he was killed. He Was Born, Then He Was Taught, Then He Fought, Then He Died.
Its amazing how our lives are simplified without an account of them. Let's face it, Harry Potter's story was shorter, but far more celebrated because seven well-crafted books made him a cash cow, a religious debate, and a hero. William Wallace was a nobody to much of the world until Mel Gibson made the movie, and now his epic is a standard for young men movie watchers.
Then I started wondering if being remembered matters at all. Why am I so obsessed with it? Well, its probably because I'm afraid of dying. Very few people at my age aren't, I reckon. I really hope 1LT Hidalgo was. Ready to die that is. In the sense that he knew his purpose, and when he was shuffled off the mortal coil he had reservations somewhere.
And I'm reading this book called The Name of the Wind. I want to finish it. Because someday (hell or highwater) I'm going to pen my own book. Maybe that'll be my legacy.
Whoa, maybe that's what we need. Do we need a legacy? Do we need children, or stories, or deeds, or something external to immortalize us? Something we did/made with our own hands?
Legacy. Interesting.
Ozymandias
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert...Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
3 Coins |
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allyson
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2011 21 February :: 12.44am
exhausted
Seriously. I do not know how a baby can wake up every two hours at night and then wake up bright eyed at 9 in the morning. And still manage on top of that to only nap a couple times a day. Im tired. You're crying right now and have been since at least midnight. Im about to go insane. I thought they say that babies will stop after a certain amount of time. Apparently you're stubborn. I hate it.
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spud
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2011 18 February :: 2.12am
:: Mood: relaxed
i'm making 'omnanimously' a word, and that's the end of it.
So, i'm on vacation with my family. We go to the k-mart in Petoskey. Not my decision, but in the interest of caving to the more forceful individuals involved, that's where I wound up.
My dad gives me spending money (it would've been much better spent on the slopes, but that wasn't in the cards, apparently. So, I still haven't spent it.), which in and of itself is both sad and cool. With what money I brought up with me, I buy a soda. A 20-ounce bottle of pop. The lady at the register asks me if I have a k-mart rewards card. I have to sound all stupid, and ask her to repeat herself because she's one of those soft talkers. You know the ones. I'm half deaf, because i'm getting over a sinus infection, and i've spent several sessions in the last 24 hours submerged in either a hot tub or a pool. Since I can't fucking be skiing. would you like to sign up for a rewards card? I'm sorry, what was that? Do you want to sign up for one? No, thanks. And in my head, there's a battle raging between the logical part of me that's thinking 'she doesn't know that I never go to k-mart, probably won't again for a long long time, and the only reason i'm here in the first place is because i'm from out of town,' and the other part that's saying 'lady, I don't have one already, and i'm just buying a fucking soda!'. Alright, that'll be a dollar sixty-nine. I didn't actually hear what she said, but I knew it was more than a dollar, but less than two, and deduced the rest from the change.
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Just a fun fact (or an FF. See what I did there? I shortened it. Which is automatically more cool. Or cooler. See? Shortened again! Damn, i'm cool), this stems from a game of phone tag that i'm currently in.
I am fascinated, at least for the moment, with the phenomenon of being 'it'. Like, how would you describe being it? (again, short=cool) Defining 'it' is easy, but describing it is nigh on impossible. You're in a position of some singular importance, but at the same time it's something you try to avoid. I guess it all stems from the simplicity of the game. It is competition in its most sublime, simplified form. Still, the human mind needs some context; some rules. Granted, they're basic: if the person who's it touches you, you become the person who's it - The game begins with whoever initiates contact and calls someone else it - Anyone who chooses to join in is potentially it. Them's the rules. Then why is that sensation so difficult to pin down? We all know it (at least, anyone who has ever played tag. Which I omnanimously declare to be everyone), and yet it remains so difficult to put to words. You're either chasing, or being chased, and taking it in turns. And the game is pretty much over when the person who's it gives up, and nobody else in the game decides to take up the mantle.
In some ways, I wish phone tag were more like the game of my youth. Regardless, I still hate being 'it'.
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lordpeter
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2011 10 February :: 1.13pm
:: Mood: thoughtful
:: Music: Catfish Muse
Tomorrow
I mean tomorrow in the extremely inclusive sense, as in every day in the future. I really dread certain things happening. Like I didn't want IMs to start because I'd be playing out of company with some other group, and I'm not athletically confident anyway, playing with another team wouldn't help that. But I found out that pretty much all of E-1 Glee is playing Flickerball with E-3. Oh, its nice to have cliques of your own.
Also, Summer Training has been published to CiS. Right now I have Buckner (duh), but before that I have Air Assault. Holy shit. I'm intimidated. It'll be a great challenge, and one I have to start preparing for yesterday. I still wish I had Airborne, but I guess I should take this in be grateful. A lot of people wanted Air Assault and I got it, so for everyone's sake I should make the most of it.
Anyway, I survived my Math WPR and only have to get through an Arabic Quiz. Then Glee and Flipper Dinner and I have Thursday night. I don't know what I'm going to do this weekend. Probably try and redownload League of Legends, get a haircut, buy some more hygiene products (esp. dental).
Yeah, whatever.
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allyson
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2011 9 February :: 12.15pm
4 months old!
Callie,
Wow! You have had a few busy days. Saturday the 5th we started you on oatmeal. You ate probably half and the other half ended up all over your clothes. The next day, you ate all of it! ( my little piggy) Then things started getting harder haha. You decided you wanted to play with it and shoved your hands in your mouth. Yesterday you were too upset to eat and today you ate a few bites, played with some and some ended up on your face and clothes. Every bite you did eat... made you gag...and this horrible expression would come across your face like it tasted so sour. But I tried it before you did and it was NOT that bad.
Last night you rolled from your belly to your back TWICE and it was intentional haha. You don't really like being on your tummy but you still are physically capable of rolling from your back to your tummy. Oooh and another thingbyou started doing a couple days ago was switching your pacifier between your hands and also outrun it back in your mouth. I'm so proud of you! Those skills are way above your current age (6 month skills). Currently you are asleep in my arms. I think you are going through a growth spurt. You used to sleep from 12a- 8am without fail for 2 months straight. The past week or two.. you've been up at 5 and then 9 wanting to nurse for a half hour! Not to mention still eating ever two hours during the day and you've also started nursing on both sides. Piggy.
Happy four months.
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allyson
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2011 6 February :: 12.54am
Callie~
You are 17 weeks old today. In 3 days, you will be 4 months old. I can not believe how fast these 17 weeks have come and go. Each morning when you start rustling around and break out that beautiful smile makes me realize how lucky I am for you to be here with me. I may not have realized it then... but when I had you... we both could have died right there in that bathroom. I apparently.lost a lot of.blood and God only.know how many other things could've gone wrong with the birth in general not to mention all the tlabor that could've been wrong with you. I had been in active labor for 12+ hours and didn't know it. That can put a lot of stress on babies. Lucky for me, you were strong and healthy. Right now you are sleeping right next to me. I'm listening to you breath.
Today, you were so happy. I was able to put you down and play and talk to you...I even left you on the activity mat all alone and you tugged and pulled on the toys attached to it. Grandma and gumpy came over this evening and while grandma had you, you kept looking around the room for me to make sure I was there. I love that now you fuss when I put you in your chair when I have to make dinner or clean. And then when I walk in your direction you start smiling and giggling but as soon as I walk past you, you let out a cry. You love me. And I love you. At least today while I made dinner and sister was talking you decided to talk back. Goo this gaah that. " a goo a goo" over and over. You even put your pacifier back in your mouth after it fell out.
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spud
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2011 18 January :: 2.08am
:: Music: SuperLibrary - it continues to grow
so.... you hit it and then it works?
yes. yes it does.
so, i live on a cul-de-sac (which is a word i despise, but there really is no other word for it...). at the very end is a path that leads to the school behind the house. by the path are a fire hydrant and a streetlamp. now, for the past year or so, the light wouldn't always turn on automatically. sometimes you'd have to kick it, nudge it, whatever you felt like doing in order to jostle the thing to life. now, at first it was just every once in awhile. then it got to be once a month. still a novelty at this point, as i spend a lot of time visiting with the neighbors across the path, and he would usually beat me to it. but eventually it got to be once a week.... then every fucking day. that got old for him (i was excited to have a fighting chance to be the first one to kick it), so he called up the township or whoever is in charge of maintaining the lights (yay 'burb life) and asked them to come fix it. they say yeah, sure, first thing.
about a month later he calls them back, reminding them of their promise to fix the damn thing... he even has the file number they gave him from the first call he made so she could look it up. she said the number didn't really matter. okay, whatever. "but yeah, someone needs to get out here to fix this soon. i'm getting sick of kicking it."
"i'm sorry? what seems to be the problem with it?"
"well, it doesn't turn on when it gets dark, so you have to hit the pole so it turns on."
"so, you hit it, and it comes on."
"yes ma'am, i'm not pulling your leg. it really turns on when i kick it."
"huh. you sure?"
"yup."
"alrighty, well i'll send someone out within the week. your file number is 1928340987-"
"-i thought you said the number didn't matter."
"oh. well, yeah, right. you have a good day then."
"thanks, you too."
i'm only semi-bullshitting the conversation there. it's not verbatim but that's the gist of what he described to me.
i just didn't realize that hitting things to make them work could be so foreign to somebody. it's like, the first thing i do. not violently. just to see if there's a bad connection or something. i guess maybe she was just surprised that hitting it actually worked. she must have a bad track record of hitting things and having them remain woefully unmended or something. guess i've got the magic touch.
all i know is, about a month ago they finally fixed the blasted thing, and now it's brighter than blazes all effing night long out there. it seriously hurts my eyes to look out the window. and it's got this weird pinkish hue to it. i almost liked the broken one better.
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see what i mean? bright.
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in other news, i'm still a sagittarius, pluto's still a fucking planet, and triceratops is still the most badass herbivore this side of the big bang. the bce/ce from bc/ad didn't bother me as much. i mean, change typically comes slowly for me, if at all, so i still use the old ones, but i don't mind seeing the new ones because of the unholy ruckus the bible-bangers made about it. if you're too shortsighted to see that changing the name of something doesn't change the thing itself, then i really don't care about whatever got your panties in a bunch. we need some way to measure time. the modern world is too fast paced for people to say "year of our lord twenty-hundred and eleven." and the documentation on christ's life and when exactly that was is a little ... spotty. science demanded a more precise measurement, for whatever sciency things it is there doing in there. as long as they don't burn the place down i guess i'll let them stay. until i get pissed about whatever they pry from my unwilling fingers next week. fuckers.
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so i've been tutoring this kid for the past couple of months. he's mildly autistic, which means he's in normal classes, and social enough, but it makes my job difficult. it's not that he can't focus. he can focus plenty, if it's something that interests him. it's that he can't focus on algebra 2 when he doesn't feel like it. which is most of the time. so, instead he's always telling me about all this different stuff that does interest him. like some cartoon he was watching with his brother, or this video game he's designing. tonight he was regaling me with how there are different types of fruit. shit you not. he's got this bowl of fruit, and he comments on how the strawberries are making him pucker. i sample one and concede that it's a little tart, for a strawberry, at which point he launches into this thing about how there are different types of fruits within the same species. well, not species, but that's the word he'll use (i'm not entirely convinced he was wrong on that count). "like, apples. there are all sorts of different kinds of apples. macintosh. jonathan. that one's named after me."
"alright, so, the opposite of b, plus or minus the square root of b squared minus 4ac, all over 2a." he stops to pet the dog. and play with the 2 remaining chunks of strawberry.
"but it's all food, i guess. i mean, it's not alive, like animals, but it still provides sustenance." i kindly explain that fruit is indeed a living organism until we kill it, much the same as animals, though admittedly less mobile.
"well, it's still food."
"okay, so in this function b is 4, a is negative one, and c is 8, so...."
and that's pretty much how it goes. he talks about his girlfriend a lot too. apparently she wasn't at school today because her mother felt she needed to be home to celebrate martin luther king day (she's black, after all). seemed justifiable to me. i'm just trying to figure out how she can do that, when it's exam week. whatever. you know, i want a white person holiday. you know, one where we celebrate how our ancestors took advantage of all the minorities to their own personal gain. and all of them (our ancestors) are dead now! one ethnic dead person holiday deserves another!
oh, god, when the shit happened with the birds and fish in arkansas, he was telling me about how she thought there was a volcano in arkansas that was going to erupt and destroy the world. her particular brand of autism apparently has a penchant for the doom and gloom, so it doesn't take much to get her going. but this was a very real concern in her mind, and so it becomes that much more real for those in her life. the unerring font of knowledge i doubtless am in his mind, i felt obligated to elucidate. and honestly, i tend to figure i might as well, since i'm not convinced i've actually taught him anything about math at all. i know his folks are paying me to help with school, but i figure any seed i can get to germinate, whatever the topic, is a mini-success and makes my time worthwhile. so i told him about how there was some speculation that yellowstone - decidedly not arkansas - may erupt "soon". in geologic terms, soon is probably not in our lifetime. but it's a possibility. even if that does happen, it's not going to be the apocalypse. it'll do a dandy number on most of the US, michigan included, but i doubt it would completely kill off all the humans on the planet. he seemed reassured by that; mission accomplished.
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so this book i'm reading right now is basically robin hood, as this guy thinks it should be, or might have been. he's based it in the 11th century in what is modern day wales. he's changed things completely, but it's well written and actually seems far more realistic than most of the romanticized robin hood crap we're used to seeing at the movies. if you're genuinely interested, you should start with the first book in the trilogy, though. anyway, the language tends to have this overly formal archaic type of style to it. most of the books i've read by him are that way, at least at times. but once i start to get into the swing of it, i think i could really run rampant and emulate that voice fairly well. i think it would be a fun experiment to try. maybe not as accessible to readers, but fun. and i could be verbose without it seeming like as much of a stretch. condescension and overly flowery language are pretty much expected from that dialect. i couple probably pull it off. i'm halfway there already, right?
right.
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tuwang
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2011 14 January :: 4.34pm
this weekend will be the 6th weekend in a row Ive gone out all night and come home on the first train in the morning. Im not entirely sure how I feel about that.
I had a dream last night that I went to a bar with my friend Benedict. I paid 2000 yen at the door, got my wristband and two tickets, and entered. When I got in, a fat lady with a poorly shaped bob haircut and thick horn-rimmed glasses stops me and asks me for proof that I had paid. I show her my wristband but she says, `that proves nothing`. I pull out one of the two tickets I had and I get the same response, followed by the other only to yet again hear how useless it is. She starts chuckling and I say, `what do I have to do to prove to you that I paid?`. She grins and replies `Tim should have given you what you need.`
`Then Ill go find time`
`Tim wont give it to you now, Im sure`
She is laughing hysterically and Im getting incredibly frustrated at this point. I start cursing in Japanese, to which she responds with laughter.
`Its no use really` she says and continues laughing, her belly jiggling rythmycally.
Its then that I pull out a Colt .357, cock it, aim at her face, and pull the trigger. I hear nothing but see a flash of white, at which point I wake up in a cold sweat.
what does this mean?
For a reality update, Im still alive. Thats nice yeah?
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tuwang
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2011 6 January :: 9.12am
back then they didnt want me, now Im hot they all up on me.
I wish it were easier to make apostrophes on this keyboard.
Bitches need to learn to take a joke, especially when the implied meaning isnt inately evil by any means.
my three thoughts for today.
Akemashite Omedetougozaimasu.
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skife
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2011 2 January :: 5.09am
Dear beave,
Keep your stick on the ice
Love,
-beave
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