Quagmire, Ukase, Indigence, Supplant

Oh boy, I've fucked up and let 4 words lapse. Damn, now I have to do them all at the same time. Why do I feel so badly about missing something that I'm only responsible to myself for?

I guess it's because it's a goal I set for myself, but it is still a goal. I have failed to meet that goal in a satisfactory way. I'm therefore disappointed in myself both in the involvement and the mandate senses.

I've just been really stressed out about work and not making a lot of money to finance all the dumb bullshit I do. So I go out and do a bunch of dumb bullshit for a weekend and get deeper into debt and further exacerbate my situation. It's a self-destructive way to take your mind off of something. Still, it did the trick.

But now I have to figure out how to have some fun without spending money. I think I'll be back in a hibernation sort of mode again. I miss my evenings in playing video games and working on new musical stuff. I should record some more songs. I should beat Saints Row sometime. I should take down all the rest of the mob families in the Godfather game. I would do more art, but after spending a bunch of time illustrating in the office after hours, I don't really want to.

I can fill this money-spending void. Most easily by staying on top of my blog.

Argot

One of the most curious patterns of human behavior is the way we conduct ourselves in our different relationships. We all have different modes we run on. Work Mode, Family Mode, Friends Mode, Sex Mode. Like some strange awkward robot, we change ourselves to be appealing to our environment.

Everyone does this, but whenever you catch yourself doing it, it can be jarring. Is this really who I am? Is the same guy who laughs at unfunny jokes at work also the one who throws pumpkins at cars? Does the same sweet altar boy and Eagle Scout also refer to his friends affectionately as "asshats?" It can make one stop and think about who they really are, how they really feel, and what their morals might be.

One of the hardest parts about this whole identity pile mess is when you believe to have found the one person in the entire population that understands who you really are. What you thinks is your true self comes out and it makes you feel good. That seems to be what love is all about, at least to me. Not feeling like I might be wrong about what I'm doing our how I feel. But I'm nuerotic and full of Catholic guilt. Those two things are pretty much a common denominator in all my different modes.

The worst part of this psychological phenomenon is when these two different mindsets clash. Having friends over at a family function or having an office romance can make you feel really lost. You don't know how to act. You try to find common ground between these two identities and behave in a diplomatic fashion. But then something usually gives away and the more fun personality comes out. You end up cursing in front of your grandmother or trying to make out in the copier room.

I think Dexter Holland said it best: "You gotta keep 'em seperated"

Propotency

What if I have children and they all look like me? How scary is that! Little people that look just like you. That's weird.

Circumspect

I really like warning signs. I like their look and aesthetic, but I mostly love them for being so clear and concise. No ambiguity. No questions. No being pained with guilt if you disobey them. They are just signs. They do not care for you.

Stop. That's all. Stop. No, "Well, if you want to go, it's cool," or "You should know what to do here." Just stop. All that other stuff would be superfluous and wordy.

Signs care not if they hurt your feelings. They are going to say what they want, and no one will get hurt. Some people may get frustrated and disobey the signs, and they will end up hurting themselves and possibly others. "I said not to drive over the road during a flood. Now look at what has happened to your precious Celica."

Signs are honest. Signs are helpful. Signs do their duty.

Please. Be like the signs.

Gregarious

I wish I had that simple freedom of my teenage years back. When you could call anyone of your friends a any time of day to go do anything. To take the car out all night and see what kind of trouble was looking for us, as long as I called home and told my parents where I was going. To get someone older than us to buy us the cheapest beer they would pick up.

Alright, so the teenage years weren't the best. As a legal adult, I can get into bars, play my music on the jukebox, and bullshit with my friends. I can do whatever I want as long as I am in bed early so I can get enough rest before work. I can pay my own bills.

Well, it looks like being an adult sucks.

That's why college is so popular I guess. Minimal responsibility, no bills to pay, lots of sex everywhere. Still, cheap beer.

I really wish I could get those carefree day back, and maximize them to their full potential. I wish that I had no reason to work so hard. I wish that I could truly do whatever my heart desires. I wish that money would rain down only into my open window.

Do you ever have those days when you do spend most of your time awake with a good friend? Those days where you do just follow the fun wherever you hear about it. Those early afternoons that turn into daybreak. I want that. I want that a lot.

Maybe I am too intense as a friend. Maybe I take fun too seriously. Maybe I am just trying to make up for my college years where I stupidly worked instead of getting blitzed on a Thirsty Thursday.

Maybe I should get to bed. I got work tomorrow.

Prolix

The days of gray skies and bitter winds are starting to come to an end. The warmth from the sun is lifting us all up into a fervor and zest for our own existance, making us don the traditional trappings of comfort. Spring time has finally announced itself in the most grandest of ceremonies and in the most simplest of avenues.

Marvel and wonder fill my spirit as I am able to leave the breezes and drafts flow through the opened portals of my dwelling. The olfactory senses are alleviated of the dank and stale odors of stillness and occupancy. No grand majesty of nature is as pleasing as the cool breeze of a New Jersey meadow land spring.

How I have pined for the return of the cherry blossom and the dogwood flower! O, how I have prayed for the slimy grit of the municipal snow clearance to be stricken from sight during a cleansing spring rain! The silent missives of prayer have finally been acknowledged and bestowed onto a grateful congregation.

The sweet music of the birdsong has returned to mine lonesome ear. All manner of beast have returned from their slumber to fill the air with the sounds of grateful existence. The most feeble of creature feels the awesome power of the season.

May Spring be praised in Mother Natures most grandest cathedral! May the Spring be exhaulted and kept most holy! May the Spring be held in our hearts all throughout our years! For Spring loves us as we love Her.

Apostasy

I did't write yesterday because I was too busy working on a paying gig and doing improv stuff. It felt great.

Impugn

I love to start fake arguements.

There's something so fun about cursing and yelling like you are angry with your friend. It's as cathartic and engaging as a real arguement, only you leave with a positive feeling from joking around with your buddy.

It's really only something you can do with a close friend. New friends are not as receptive to fake abuse. Some don't realize it's fake, others take it to far, others just have no sense of humor about it. So, with the people you are closest to, you are outwardly meaner to.

Maybe that might be might group of friends, but that's what I love. It's like when you wrestle with your siblings as a youth. It's not in any sort of anger, or to cause any harm, it's just having fun roughing your loved ones up.

Trice

Hey, don't worry about it.

Debaub

I think I might be the only one who uses the NJ Transit bus system that actually takes a shower every now and again.

Every window has a slimy smudge from some greasy Jersian's hair product. Everyone that sits down next to me either smells like a cologne party or a brisk summer jog.

In such a dense area of the country, where people are already tense and angry, is it that hard of a courtesy to try and smell nice? It makes other people feel good, and it makes you feel good.

C'mon, people.

Efficacious

I am tired of being good.

I've made myself more stressed, more tired, and more unhappy by being good at what I do. I expected the opposite. I expected that if I were to excel at what I do, be efficient, and finish early, I would make my life easier. That's what they teach us in school. Get your homework done soon so you can go out and play. Get your papers done early so you won't have to do everything the night before. Don't go to exams drunk so you can focus.

And I, stupidly assuming I was a lazy kid, tried to do that. I got projects done on time. I broke done papers into steps. I even tried to study for the first time in my life in college. I tried to metamorphasize from a Type-B caterpillar to a Type-A butterfly. I did my best.

What I have learned is that acheivement in life is not really marked as easily as a chemistry test. There are no A's in the workplace. There are no gold stars on your passions. There is only up. Up. Only Up. No way to know how you are doing, expect for paying your bills and getting a decent meal every now and then.

So, becoming a multi-tasker, fixing problems, and finishing early only show that you work at a frenetic pace. You get things done fast. You're giving your all every day to be the best. So, when it's time to step up and give more, you have very little left to give. You don't have anymore energy, just time.

I've been sleeping terribly, because I still feel the need to come home and do a lot of personal work. I stay up late trying to get as much in as I can.

You may notice this one is late. Well, there you go. I did my best.

Cavort

Today's word is pretty ironic, since there is very little to celebrate with carefree dancing and skipping.

The weather is shit, flooding people from their homes, lawyers are jumping to their deaths leaving their limbs to be found on the ground below, and now some senseless act of violence has marked a macabre milestone in American history.

Over 30 people have lost their lives to a madman with several guns, a lot of ammo, and a lot of determination to take people's lives. There are a lot of variables to this terrible event, so it opens the doors to point blame at someone, some strategum, some architect, some silent friend, or someone else that should have known better. None of this ever solves anything, or brings people back to their families, or brings anyone in any sort of pain the solace and piece of mind they need.

I don't want to co-opt these young people's pain and suffering. They need their own time to figure out how to deal with something that they don't even realize is national news. They need as much support as possible. My heart goes out to them. I wish there was something I could do. I can't, but I would.

Fucking asshole word.

Refractory

One of my pet peeves is stubborness. Not the kind of stubborness that comes with sticking to prinicple, holding convictions, or trying to just plain get your own way. The kind of stubborness that makes people act like pricks.

You know when you ask someone to go a bit out of their way to save you a ton of time? Those people who refuse to learn anything because they are lazy. People who have no other reason to make your life difficult except their own trivial exercise of power.

This can happen a lot at work.

Happy Monday.

Accede

Compromise. It's the bane of any group member's existence. We need it in order to carry on working as a group, but no one is every truly satisfied. Everyone is so absolutely singular, that human beings cannot agree on anything absolutely. There are things that we all deem as unacceptable behavior, like murder. Then someone decides that murdering is their passion in life and goes about murdering. So we all have to make an official rule saying "Don't murder. Just don't do it." Anyone who murders gets ostracized into a building full of other murderers for safe-keeping. Then those murderers can't even agree on anything. They take other people's property without permission, they intimidate each other with their scary bodies and scary voices, and they also go back to murdering. They share the same passion in life for murder and can't even agree to get along.

But there are tons of other hobbies in the world. Most of them, you don't have to go to prison for.

Spoonerism

Why is it that when we are the most nervous we lose control of what we are saying?

I wish this weren't the case, as it happens to me a lot. I get into my head and try to think about what I am saying while I am saying it and then deciding I should say what I am saying after I already say it. An awkward sentence to decribe an awkward situation.

What is the evolutionary precendent for being unable to communicate in the face of fear?

Those who can't rise to the challenge face the threat of being breed out of the human race. Those of us who think too much may end up dead and gone. Just like those who never bathe, never exercise, or never defend ourselves.

Why do we think too much?

There is too much to think about, especially trivial consequence. Life and death are consequences. Hiring and Firing are minimal consequence. Impressing and Embarassment are of trivial consequence.

I think we think too much.

Brio

Excitement is one of those renewable resources that we all run on. It can motivate us to work through the toughest of situations just to reach that goal we fix on. Having some sort of anticipation in our minds can make the days go faster, the good times seem better, and the problems seem trivial.

However, it's one of the renewable resources that seems to diminish exponentially as we get older. As a kid, you can get excited about anything. Ice cream, vacation, stuffed animals, nickels. But then we learn how lame things are. We understand that ice cream makes you fat, travelling from place to place takes forever, stuffed animals don't do tricks, and you can't buy anything with a nickel. Then there is some terrible tipping point where you don't want to get excited about anything. You feel the precious little excitement you have swishing around in your nearly empty heart. You don't want to get excited about Christmas, or your birthday, or a date. You know terrible they can be, so why bother?

I feel like that tipping point is very near for me, or possibly even passed. I should probably start jogging again. That helps.

Putsch

Let me clue you in on some facts, friend.

Did you know that the government has been putting flouride in our drinking water since the 50's? It's true. It has this strange electromagnetic effect on the nervous system. the earth's own electromagnetic feilds filter in through the carbon molecules in our bodies and then hit the extra flouride that is coursing through every tissue and organ. The reaction makes us hungry for cheap corporate foodstuffs and also makes us more gullible. It makes us buy things from commercials. It's true.

There are now more commercials on TV than there have been in the past 100 years. doesn't that frighten you, America? Or are you too busy sleepy comfortable on those memory foam mattresses that NASA designed? NASA made those beds so comfortable so we would never want to leave our beds. It keeps us fat and uneducated. It's the truth. That's the government's way of tricking you into settling for minimum wage and Fear Factor reruns.

When are we going to wake up and realize that the Tivo has been sent to watch us. It learns our habits and tastes. It records everything you see. It needs an internet connection! God damn it, people. Plugging in that box is like installing a CCTV camera overlooking your living room. And the government is the only one with a monitor, man. You might as well send them your dairy over the internet. That way the government won't have to use the Tivo to find out what you're thinking, and it will also know who you've got a crush on.

Wake up, America. Uncle Sam is being arrested by Chris Hansen. The Constitution was accidentally washed after being left in the big pockets of the corporations. The Washington Mall is where politicians are bought at retail prices.

Wake up, America. I have your answers.

Wake up.

Rivulet

One of the simplest, yet very fun, things to do as a youth is to learn to skip rocks.

I still love it. I wish I were doing it now. I love searching the shoreline for the flattest rock, holding it just right, and then letting it fly. Skipping once, twice, thrice, maybe even skimming along the top of the water for a while. Skipping rocks may be my first introduction into the wonders of physics.

My favorite place to skip rocks is on little creeks or narrow rivers. Then it becomes a challenge to skip the rock to the other shore. It's a great game you can play. Also easy enough to turn into a drinking game if you are camping.

Come to think of it, a lot of my favorite outdoor activities inolve throwing things. Skipping rocks, tossing a frisbee, throwing bottlerockets. All great lessons in science, all great fun.

I really wish it weren't still cold here.

Abecedarian

Children.

I'm not really sure how I think about children. Sometimes I think I want children, but I don't want to really raise children. I don't need to add that sort of life and death responsibility to my life any time soon.

I'm not good at teaching people things. I usually do things myself rather than tell someone how to do it. When you are trying to show you're child how to walk, you can't just sit him or her back down and say "Forget it! I'll do it!" and then walk a few paces.

Perhaps the hardest thing about raising a kid is letting them learn how to fix their own problems. After you get used to teaching them everything they need to know, you want toi step in and keep doing the job you think you've been appointed. However, you can't teach your kids how to be tough, how to rely on themselves, and how to deal with pressure by fixing everything for them. That seems to be the problem a lot of parents have now. They mollycoddle their children. They give them everything they need. In return, their children barely acknowledge their good fortune and just become huge pricks. These children think they are untouchable because they don't personally deal with reprocussions. Parents like this send their kids off to college and let them spend several years as an undeclared student. Meanwhile, the kid has no job, no outside responsibility, and no motivation to learn anything.

I went to a school with a lot of these kinds of pricks.

Being a parent just seems too heartbreaking. Your kids start off cute and needy, go to obnoxious, then less cute and obnoxious, then smart and obnoxious, then they sleep on your couch after graduation until things "fall into place." All the time you grow old, uncool, and out of touch. You get pains as your body deteriorates. The bills stack up since you have to pay for everything. You get fat and sedendary.

Maybe I just don't want to get old. Maybe I'm selfish. I'd like to think that it's my way of not screwing up another person's life by being their dad.

Obviate

Fuck.

I have a bit of a writer's block on this one. That may seem like I'm trying to be cute or intentionally ironic given the definition of today's word, but I am honestly stuck. I don't won't to write about traffic or people getting in my way or something contrived like that.

But I guess I have little to talk about in the ways of obviation.

I thought about writing some short fiction thing about some guy cock-blocking his friend, but I hate people that do that, and I really don't feel like stretching my brain like that today. I saw enough of that the night before, and guys like that are hard to make relatable.

I don't know.

I'll get better at this as time goes on.

Toper

I didn't write for this yesterday because I was out drinking.

Sorry.

Clarion

I sometimes wonder if I am anxiety-ridden or prone to a nervous attack. It's possible.

I'm very jumpy. Every time I heard a loud sound I'm expecting, or get a little bit startled, I perk up or even scramble into the fight or flight position. I wish I knew why. Most of my weird neuroses I can track down to some event in my life. For instance, I am uneasy on bridges because when the Memorial Bridge opened back home in Quincy, my dad looked over the side with me on his shoulders. I was probably in preschool at the time, so maybe my superego has exagerated the experience to tell me that bridges and heights are not safe. Loud noises, though, I cannot pinpoint. Maybe it goes back before memory and just being afraid of some unexplained sensation. Maybe one of the first experiences I had of pain was accompanied by a sudden auditory attack. Maybe I'm afraid that whenever I hear some loud noise, it means a werewolf is popping out to attack me and eat me alive. I would say it was thunder, but I like thunderstorms.

Whatever the reason, it is not something that will go away. Having to work on Manhattan's illustrious 8th Avenue (Which should be renamed "Ugly People Arguing Avenue"), I am often subjected to the frequent police siren, a loud truck, or some fire drill going on in a nearby building. More often than not, I have to stop what I am doing and put my head on a swivel to make sure I am not going to die. You hear that!? I am not going down like a chump!

I really hope that it doesn't lead to some sort of anxiety attack. I don't want to end up in some sound-proof room regaining my wits chemically while some nurses assure me that all the precautions are in my best interest. I really don't want to end up crazy. I don't want to be crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy.

I'm not.

Seriously.

I'm not.



What was that?

Deign

The company I work for has recently published a bound edition of someone's blog.

Blogs have never really struck me as the medium of a undiscovered writer. I don't think it is unreasonable for someone without any ins in the business to try new things. But it's mainly used by weird people like me. People that have some weird itch to put their thoughts or their daily lives out to the public. A limited public, though.

Blogs seem like a weird little art project. You can obviously put in a ton of work. You could use correct grammar and spell check. You could learn some fancy CSS codes to make it look professional. Most of us are just gonna screw around with it and make stupid little posts about our stupid little lives.

So the idea of publishing a blog seems really odd to me. It's all online, for free, to read whenever you want. You could read it on your phone these days, if you are the kind of weirdo that reads blogs on their phone. Why not give a struggling writer/blogger a chance to write something completely new?

Eh, what the hell do I know? I just design the covers.

Tenet

One of the things that they try to teach in improv is finding the "truth" in comedy. How be pretend to do things in a very real way and not trying to force anything funny.

It's so hard because we desperately all want to be good already. We copy the things we see and try to make these sorts of silly, you-had-to-be-there moments happen again. Instead of starting with others on the same blank page, you try to make the other person guess what you wrote down.

We all want to be funny immeadiately, but we have to learn that being funny is not the objective, it's the reaction.

I mean, I know all this stuff to be the right way to approach it, but I can't seem to make it work just yet. It's like knowing how to hit a home-run off of any pitch. You can know it in your mind, objectively, how to connect in the right way. But your physical memory is what needs to be informed. Your immeadiate reactions need to be shaped into the "right way" of doing things. Once it clicks, you could never imagine doing it any other way.

Errant

If there is one thing I don't like about the commute is that I am not driving.

I miss being able to take off and explore. I miss the little adventures. I miss the ability to make split-second decisions on what to do with my free-time. Go visit friends in other states, go get frozen yogurt, go to a movie that starts in 5 minutes, go look at the new houses that are being built outside of town. The bus won't let you do that.

My sense of adventure is limited, I'll admit, but it does need satifaction. I get crazy of the same old scenery. One thing that has replaced this need for road trips and wasted gas is following a party.

The city has so much hidden stuff that just following a group of people can open up venues and activities you were oblivious to. You get to meet more people. The best part is not having a long way to go to get home.

Arriviste

I wrote this awesome essay on being honest with one's self about how we each define ourselves, and how we should remember that success comes in steps, and that it's ok to pace yourself when it comes to your goals, but then Firefox crashed and I lost it.

So, a short summary of what I feel:

Don't act like you are better than you are, keep trying to get better no matter what accolades you recieve, and remember to slow down and have fun.

Also, don't use a browser that crashes.

Jocular

I got the rare treat of visiting a professional cartoonist's studio this weekend. Skip Morrow is my friend's hometown neighbor out in the Vermont wilderness. They live about 6 blocks away with only one house between them.

Skip let us explore his newly contructed gallery with framed prints of his artwork. He and I talked shop, as it were, about how we go about drawing things. Neither of us studied professional cartooning, but we both learned a lot on our own.

His gallery included a lot of his drawings from his books, corporate commissions, greeting cards, and also a few original art pieces. He has a lot of things for sale, and seems to do really well with getting customers coming out to his remote gallery.

After looking at his work, he let us take a peak at his studio. It was such a treat to see all of the samples glued to the walls, the bookshelves stacked with references, quirky picture books, and old sketchpads. Toys lined the small shelves above the door. It was like a grown-up's playhouse.

He also had some musical equipment out, since he was working on recording new music. We got to talk about playing, writing, and peforming as well. I was very impressed with what Skip had been able to make for himself. I was also really jealous that he was living an almost ideal lifestyle from my point of view. Skip has most certainly earned it, though. I really hope that I get to do what I love for a living.

Sedition

Everyone likes to think they are smarter than the people in charge. I think that is pretty common for all of us. We like to think that if we were to quit our job, the company would go out of business. We think that if we spin a believable yarn, we can get out of a speeding ticket. We think we are so smart.

Just because people are in charge, doesn't mean they are so distracted that they don't know what you are doing. They don't let you know because they are probably waiting for your weasley ass to fuck up so they can fire you. The police see you speed all the time, but figure that it's not worth pulling you over for only going about 5 over the limit.

The truly smart among us excel to positions of power, or are actively undermining us without us even noticing. Smart people don't sit around and stew about how shitty things are. Smart people get things done.

I think that's why we are afraid of smart people. They will obviously succeed more than the regular joes.