Claudia. Santi.

I don't have the foggiest idea what the second word means, but the first word refers to a, to say the very least, interesting girl at my school.

Recall that "interesting" is not synonymous for "bad".

Either way, this leaves me to ponder my recent lack of creativity. Sitting here, in my relatively uncomfortable sofa, the words do not appear to my fingers as they once did. Perhaps I have exhausted my entire reserve of ideas?

Am I one of those, who slowly harbor thoughts and ideas over a long period of time, and bury those deep into my subconscious, only to dig them up when the opportunity for a creative outlet appears?
Many type of people show this characteristic, such as old people, who lose some mental facilities after long periods of time, or the song writer for Linkin Park, who seems to have lost ceased all mental activity after finishing Meteora.

While I haven't lost any of my mental capactiy, and I certainly haven't became some sort of vegetable song writer leeching off the trust of my fans, but I certainly have seem to hit a mental block. Perhaps it just needs time.

Meh.

Tasting deliciusly of chocolate.

You can't possibly make a diagram of the human body. You can't map all the feeling that we feel, and what is it to be human other than all these feelings in our body? What is something as abstract as this be anything but a space beyond which There Be Dragons? In my body, we know There be Dragons Everywhere; they may not all have scales and forked tongues, but they Be Here all right, shouting and jostling and trying to grab my attention.

At last, perfection.

To live in a perfect world is a conundrum within itself. For nearly all people, with the exception of a few deranged individuals, a perfect world would be one without suffering. However, how can we enjoy perfection if we cannot suffer the imperfections? Would you enjoy a delicious cup of coffee as much if you have never had the most bitter? What would you compare the feeling of victory to if you have never experienced loss? How would you know at what standards to set?

Yes, we love, and we live. We hate, and we die.
If everything must end, then love must end at one point, and we will feel the pain of ending a relationship. But through a relationship, there is so much joy derived from the fact that you know one day, it must end. Subconsciously, you know that this is true. If you knew that you would always have a delicious food, would you not take the fact for granted? We already do, in that we have our emotions to help us through life. We know that we will always have them, and yet, they are hardly ever recognized for what they are.

If you knew that a relationship would last forever, it would be taken for granted, forgotten, and potentially ruined.
So please, I plead for all of you who read this to never grow bitter and hateful toward the past, for the ending of one thing has always been the product of joy from something else.

This time, with feeling.

There are great writers, and there are great speakers. I find myself in the latter group, with all efforts to remain modest. As ever, I've always had a knack for articulating my thoughts better through the use of a written language than orally. I often look back at myself in the past, and kick myself for being crude, pointless, or even flat out wrong when attempting to speak, but in words, I can rally the ideas into some sort of organizable rank and file, and march them through my finger tips and into the computer, as opposed to a forced, and very inefficient advance through speech.

So I must say this. Why did I do it? For many reasons. One of the simplest reason is that I didn't feel the same for her as I used to. Simply put, I lost the feel. This is an often enough occurrence between couples, and I find myself no exception to this saddening phenomena. However, several factors affected this, and I still feel that the entire blame for this situation falls on me, and me alone.

Then, there was the distance. On both sides of the relationship, we found ourselves drifting apart, causing her to be more insecure, and myself, hurt. I knew she was sad, due to conversations I would have with her, and conversations she would have with my friends. I knew she was sad, and I couldn't do much about it, other than rework my entire schedule, which is something I just can't commit to. Therefore, I knew she would have to live while being sad, insecure, and afraid of the moment when I would break up with her. This, inturn, made me feel extremely guilty, as well as sad. The weight that this bore upon me was enormous, and well, I might have panicked a little bit.

Granted, I still think I made the right choice, but I did it without thinking it all the way through first. If I had thought it through... well, the end result would have been the same, just much delayed.

There were other reasons, but explaining all the little ones would seem trivial to those who do not understand the mechanics of how I think.

To summarize how I felt for that entire week before, I present one song that summed up all my emotions.

Enjoy.

An over-analyzation of "Rock Vs Rap"

Take one of the worst examples of a rap song (Sure, some people like it, but general consensus is that Soulja Boy destroyed the rap genre. Play along for a second, mkay?), and add a kickass drummer with an awesome beat. Suddenly, we have rock fans claiming that this has made the song awesome/given it meaning/much better. Take a look at the youtube comments, or the iTunes page with this remix.

Therefore, is it safe to assume that the only reason that people who like rock hate rap, and vice versa, is because of the underlying beat? It is quite true when many drummers say they are the most important part of the band; they often set the tone of the song. A person singing slow can keep a high energy song if the beat is made well enough at a fast pace.

You might say that people like the song only for the beat, and the beat alone. However, take the words out of it. Imagine it without the words. To me, I would find this boring. To the drumming enthusiast, who would be better suited to enjoy the beat, perhaps, but to the average listener? Not likely.

So why would Crank That do better as a rock song then a rap song? Is it just because he improved on such an apparently hopeless song that made it seem so much better? Perhaps. This is a problem for another time.

For now, enjoy the awesome beats of Travis Barker.
:D

Giant Space Sharks

Religious Debate? How bland.

However, I must point out something I wondered about earlier today. Christianity, a religion with millions of followers, has nothing backing its story other than a book that was meant to promote itself. There are very few third party documentations of this book being the truth. Now, taking that into account, from a completely scientific standpoint, wouldn't a Giant Space Shark be just as believable as the Christian God?

Yes, many people will cite sources showing that God is the truth, and all that, but how do we really know its truthful? Thus, I cannot pick a faith. To have faith, one must abandon some part of intelligence and awareness about themselves. Not to call religious people stupid; on the contrary, some of the greatest minds were also religious minds, but its a different kind of intelligence. Its nearly impossible to believe that evolution took place if the Christian god made everything on earth.

Therefore, I find agnosticism the most logical belief. Adopting the ancient technique for explaining the unexplainable, I turn to religion, but not to any specific religion. Rather, this is a custom tailored religion, a religion of one, in which I embrace certain scientific facts, but allow some beneficent god to solve all the other problems.

Some may view this as being simplistic, but what else can I do? Turning strictly to science would leave me craving for a religious experience, leaving me nowhere to seek comfort or explain the unexplainable, but turning to a mass religion would leave me scientifically craving for answers other than "God Did It."

I don't seek to have others join me, and I do not spite those who hate me for what I believe in. In the end, isn't it all that really matters? Isn't that what almost all religions teach, to love others and live a good life? Maybe experiencing god takes changing your choice of religion all together, or believing in your own.

Perfection

Small children have no perception of good and evil. They have no past experiences to refer to as to tell them what is right, and what is wrong. Right and wrong is not built into people, it is something like social etiquette, where it must be picked up as a child grows into adulthood. Therefore, someone has to have told them what is right, and what is wrong.

Those who did tell them, someone else had to tell those people.


Now, you can probably see where I'm going. The chain goes on and on, until we reach the distant past, where we have no recordings of history. From the moment one caveman hit one caveman over the head with a rock, someone declared it wrong.

But who did? From Christianity's viewpoint, it was God. But as the famous Latin quote goes, Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?, or "Who Watches the Watchers?"

Yes, this may seem like blasphemy to some (man, I love that word), and I'm pretty sure that this might offend quite a few as well, if they ever get around to reading it (I mean come on, this blog was pretty much meant for my eyes only anyway), but if he was the sole creater, then he must have made up what is wrong and what is right. How do you define what is wrong and what is right? How do you know if this is really right? After all, everyone who has taught us these morals are those who learned them as children themselves.

The only answer to this would be "Because he said so," but now, really. Is this a good answer?

I have no answer to this. Perhaps one day I will, but not today. Not at 2 in the morning.

Humanity (on the other hand)

***Refer to post before this one. This is the same topic, just approaching it from a different angle***

Humans, on a whole, are inconsistent. It is impossible to brand us with any particular pattern or brand, unlike other animals. Inhumane can mean many things, depending on how one interprets it. If we define being "humane" as the ideal of humans, then yes, it is the dictionary definition.

However, if we defined things by the ideals that we hold, then we are merely covering up the truth with words that are, essentially, boosting the idea of humanity being perfect. Nay, humanity is far from perfect, but it is impossible to forget those who strive for perfection.

Yes, it is impossible to obtain perfection, as defining perfection would be difficult, due to the inconstancy of humans. However, striving for perfection in ones personal goals and ideals would lead us to this glamorous idea of "humanity". However, striving for perfection requires a herculean effort that can't be obtained by picking up a copy of Bettering Yourself in 30 days from your local bookstore.

It is possible to obtain this ideal of "humanity", because to be human is to make mistakes, so a perfect human would make mistakes as well.

From the perspective of an all powerful god, then it is impossible to be perfect. But to ourselves, to those we live with it, is possible to spiritually and mentally perfect.

Humanity

In general, words that are used to compare things to humans hold no ground with me. Take, for example, the term "Inhumane." By definition, it means when someone is cruel or heartless that goes against human nature. A person might describe leaving a child without food "inhumane."

However, I have 2 basic arguments with this
1) If it was against human nature, why do so many violate it?
2) When given any amount of thought there is no animal that would abandon its child. Yes, some reptiles and fish would lay eggs and leave their young to live by themselves, but they are a species as a whole. Turtles don't leave out their young out of cruelty, they do it because its hardwired into the turtle. Its what makes the "turtle" what it is.

Certain mammals do indeed abandon their young, but not out of apathy or cruelty.
Rather, it is usually attributed to lack of resources or competition between siblings. Given the chance, if there was no competition between siblings, then they wouldn't shun their young.

Some might even make the argument that certain species eat their young, but this is out of survival. No animal would hunt another for sport. You don't see antelope heads hanging over a lions den.

Humans, on the other hand, have evolved malice, spitefulness, and a lust for power. Next to boredom (refer to previous post), malice, spite, and powerlust have propelled humanity up the evolutionary ladder, but at what cost? Some managed to retain their basic, shall we say, inhumanity, but everyone holds in them some sort of hatred that can't be found in any other animal.

Inhumane is inaccurate. To be inhumane is to act with extreme kindness, and to act with no prejudice.

Epiphany. Not the Paintball gun.

A few days ago, I began to wonder about the concept of time. I marshaled my thoughts together into something where I could even begin to ask questions. From what I could come to, I had two main questions, one of which was actually answered with the help of a friend.

1) What is the past? What prevents us from going backwards in time?
Remove the human element. Imagine a time line, and everything moving forward through that time line. Now, things can move through dimensions. Take a step back, leap forward, lay down, or jump up, all these change your position in a physical plain. However, no matter what a person does, it is physically impossible to take a step backwards in time.

I wondered why this is. However, I realized after some thinking, that what exists is not the past, but merely a memory of the past. After we live through the past, it destroys itself, and it no longer exists. If the past did exist, we would be able to move through it at will, thereby making past and present indistinguishable.

To put a simple metaphor, imagine a room. Every step forward represents a day in your life. Now, with every step, the section you were once in is blocked off by a wall. It no longer exists, and you can no longer reach it. Therefore, the past doesn't exist. The memory of it does.

2) What drives our movement through time? What makes "Now" into "Before?"
Another metaphor; every step we take requires energy. Moving through time must also require some driving energy that allows us to push through time. This, I doubt I can think of any theory.

If you still do not comprehend, imagine this. "Now" is the smallest moment. The moment it takes for the thing that happens the quickest to move. "Now" is the moment in which the thought of the thought of the thought of moving enters a person's mind and when its processed. "Now" is the fastest moment, faster than a millionth of a milisecond. Now, if we go back to question one, what makes this now destroyed, and turned into the past?

Alas, there are somethings a freshman in high school isn't meant to know.

Dedication

In books, many people would flip through the first few pages to find a dedication page. Many people like to dedicate it to their mom/dad/Sasha/supporters, and a few more creative like to dedicate it to the little people/the oppressed/the writers. A few special cases even dedicate it to "The Motherland!". Myself, I like to dedicate things I write to you. Not just readers, but even those who somehow subliminally pick up on these words. Just because we haven't met/chatted/started a rivalary/gone crazy over each other, this ones for you. You, in your nice comfrotable chair, or you in your bench, or you, yes you, in the Oak tree hiding from the savage black bear. This ones for you.

He can ride a bike with no handlebars

Alas! Our time in school is short. Time has come and gone by quickly, and if I was one for using cheap cliches in my writting, I would say that time flew. Hardly. Flying suggests that a constant pace is kept, and that it passes with little to no turbulence. Unless of a sudden and random storm, in which case, I found myself placed into the only seat with a broken seat belt.

Time, for me, instead of flying, jogged by as an inexperienced runner would; at times, it seemed sprint by and leave me exhausted, while other times the apathetic nature of my experiences lead me to feel as if I was merely walking along the race track of life.

I believe that I have stretched this metaphor quite far enough, and shall quit while it hasn't crossed into the realm of being another cliche, and added to the list that I already despise.

My entire point is that I hardly ever experienced time at a constant fast pace. At times, it seemed that a few weeks stretched a few months, while the next month could be squeezed into the entirety of a single week.

Unfinished. Apathetic. Going to play Texas Hold 'Em

Physical Exahustion

At this point, I would believe that practice in the desert may actually be enjoyable, as it has to be cooler in the desert than it currently is. At least in the desert, you don't have water standing there. Taunting you.


It stares at us coolly while we run, while we work, while we stand. It celebrates every lap and mile we take, and when we have water, it laughs forever still, for it knows that we're still thirsty, and laughs at the poor fools who drink to much, and suffer from the dreaded stomach cramp. Downing more than 3 drinks of water results in the illusionary knife to be thrust into your stomach, but less than 3 results in a barren mouth, your tongue scraping every drop of moisture from the sides of the walls of your mouth.

The sun continues to beat down, while our feet continue to pound on the unforgiving grass. Everyone believes that grass is a soft and comfortable padding, up until the point where you nearly collapse on it due to a rubberized sensation in your legs.

And still, the water cooler taunts us. The bottles drip with beads of condensation, and the clink of ice promises us a cold salvation. We run pass it not once, not twice, but thrice times around it. You lose count of the distance, and just keep your legs propelling you around the track.

The burning sensation in your lungs worsen, until you feel as if breathing is more painful than holding your breath, until you actually try the process. Then, a brief reprise; a quick break to regain your breath. You take deep breaths, trying to quell the trembling in your legs, trying to ignore the burning lungs, and the darkening vision envelops the world, only to retreat with each breath.

You ask for the time.

4:17.

Fuck.

Spill to me your woes

Unleash upon me your deepest fears and regrets, confide upon me in your saddest moments, as I am a person who truly cares, and always will. When all your friends have left you out in the cold, when you feel as if the world has nothing for you, then come to me, and I shall hear your woes out. Advice, I cannot always lend, but my deepest sympathies and my undying care you will receive. In your times of isolation, I can take you and shelter you from the bitter cold of the world, and make the world seem right for just a few minutes at a time.


Life comes with many surprises and sadness, but as long as you know me, theres always someone to hear you out.

Its that Racism.

I begin this post with an anecdote about this week. Those of you who attend Diamond Ranch High School in California should know this very well, and those who know people who go there probably have heard entirely different versions of the story, ranging from black kids jumping a mexican, mexicans jumping a black kid, asians actually getting in a fight, and in a theoretically possible story where all the Indian kids attacked the European kids.

In fact, it actually all began with a single shove. The actual details of the fight are somewhat sketchy, as I found out most of it from overexcited kids who explained the fight with an excess of energy, usually incorporating a wild swing into the air while talking. What I know for sure is that there were actually only two initial fighters, one black one mexican. After it started, people from both nationalities on both sides poured into help their friends, which resulted in even more people entering the fight.

On a side note, I recall an email sent out on the very same the day, the principal said to the parents saying that the fight was not racial, although I do think that when the black kid with who it initially began started yelling (and I quote directly) "Fuck ya'll Mexicans, I hate ya'll," really puts some doubt into this.

Yes, while what started may not have initially been racial, it escalated into something racial, into what it is now.

Continuing, the next day, tension were running high.
To explain what was happening, picture this. You have an overhead view of the school, and everybody has a sticker on their head.
White = Neutral
Red = Mexican supporter
Blue = Black Supporting

Now, what happens is that you will see groups of reds, and groups of blue, both standing in a place where they are far away from each other, but still enough to eyeball each other in the way that says "I gotch'u I gotch'u. Just wait until after school".

Now note, that I say supporter, not directly black and mexican. In the main groups, you can see lighter shades of blue, the kind that indicates that "I don't really want to go into anything, but I'll back them up if shit really starts to fly," or the lighter shade of a salmon pink, also designating the same thing. Within the main groups, about 70% were of this shade, although many would turn darker with prolonged exposure to darker colors.

Then, you would have the neutrals, those who know both sides. They feel "Why can't we all be friends?" There were many pockets of these scattered around everywhere. However, prolonged contact with darker colors would often fade into a lighter shade of whatever color they are with, into the aforementioned supporters, but not really into it. These made about 25% of the groups.

Now, this means that there are only 5% who really wanted to fight, but 5% of 1000 is still quite alot. So, of course, police came, and the rest everyone knows. Nothing happened, except for a huge scare about what might have happened, but never really did.

My, wasn't that long? Anyway, on with the main point. Racism.
Why? Its a basic human trait to hate. Hatred defines our species. Animals don't kill to be cruel, they kill to reproduce, to meet basic needs, but never just because they can. Torture is not inhumane. It is possible the most humane thing a person can do, as no animal would ever torture something.

It doesn't have to be just killing. We disrespect, we hurt feelings, we fear those who different. We say we're more intelligent, but are we really? Those who destroy things that we can't use, and hate those who we do not know? Are we really more intelligent than the animals we call "unevolved?" Is hatred the defining marks of an intelligent species?

Humans may have invented mercy and justice, but you can't have those without having coldness and crime.

We have had countless scientific breakthroughs and renaissance periods, but there has been no worldwide period of spiritual bettering. Yes, we may have removed slaves, but the hatred still remains. There are public speakers, leaders, and many more who work to end this, but how much effort do we actually put into it?

We cannot tell people how to think, or change their views, but its hardly right to stand and watch as people act out in hatred against others.

And for those who experience racism every day, all I say is this. Be the better person. Let them say things about you, because acting out only proves what they're trying to say about you. Why do people have to prove themselves to to others? Insulting a person who really hates you only escalates the hatred, and all it ends with is violence, and a continuation of the bitter feelings. Let them say it to you. It's not as if it actually hurts you.