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apocatolypsemeow-blog · 6 years

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If you are a government agency or if you are future me or some random follower who likes reading my self depreciating, self pitting and frankly obtuse journal: prepare for this long post! ;)

Back to freshman year!

Freshman year of college was a very strange time. I didn’t know anything, like anything at all! And yet, the people I met there at that time are very vivid in my memory. It really set the pace for the rest of my college career. You know, people say that college is a time to reinvent yourself, I say that’s bullshit. If you try to reinvent yourself in college you will end up lying to yourself the whole time, because you can’t fabricate a personality based off of your own likeness. You’re going to remain that same throughout your whole lie, just with different opinions and circumstances. You become a more logical person, but definitely not a different person. You become more logically sound in who you are. You say “I’m this person, and based off of my own experiences up to this point I can only assume that doing whatever I would do in this circumstance would be the best course of action.” And I know what you’re thinking, you can’t say that in every situation. Sometimes you do things for the sake of other people, regardless of what you would do in that circumstance. Well I would say to that: there is no selfless acts. You can’t do anything in this life without it being inherently selfish. You can’t say that in tthis situation I will do this soley for this other person, because that is still doing it for yourself. You’re just justifying that it is a selfless act in order to feel like you’re doing selfless acts. That’s why you do things: in order to get some sort of response and reaction or anything really from it. I need to learn more about selflessness, in order to be more logical and not sound like a crazy person. So tbc.

I wonder what would happen to me if I became improsed… what would I do? What would I have done to get me up to that point? How would everybody react? I think… my life would be over. I mean I don’t think there would be any real reason for me to live…. Everybody consider me an idiot. I don’t want to tthink about this anymore, it’s giving me a headache.

I didn’t date in my freshman year. Not because of choice, but just because I had several unsucccefull attempts at it. How the hell was I supposed to get a girlfriend anyways? I was, and still kind of am, a puny nerdy guy with no common sense. Now im still a puny guy with a little bit of common sense. Regardless, I was going to the wrong school at the wrong time for me to get girls. SFA is a school that is salivated in masculinity. I mean, even the girls licked it up. They saaat on the faces of gender roles and boned all of the masculine dudes. If I was a cool, masculine, strong dude, sfa would be a hivemind for me of stds and condom expenses.

I don’t feel like myself lately… have been ujnmotivated. Correction, have been unmotivated to motivate myself. That’s the way it usually works. Even just now, I picked up a book and decided it wasn’t working for me. Nothing sparked. I think that’s my problem. I wait along for something to spark my interest, pursue it with great intentions, and fall through half way in. I get bored too easily on my personal projects…. Well, at least for stuff that catches only half of my attention. Sometimes something grabs me to the fullest, like Dharma Bums. I could read that again in one sitting. Maybe I will. Maybe I will…

It's been a while since I talked. It stings me to write these words. I got an email today from financial aid lona service . They told me they are there to help. I started to cry.

For some reason writing is starting to hurt, and it’s starting to take over my life. Not that I had a life to be taken over… Why do I do this to myself? Whenever I start writing I always want to start writing something truthful and that makes me want to cry. It’s as if I have all these feelings that need to come out… Maybe this break from writing has really gotten me stopped up. I mean, I think maybe I need my daily medicinal writing. Don’t you think? I mean, today was something else, it was a rollercoaster of emotions, and even though I have cleaned my self out there is still some residue. I don’t know, im just typing words at this point. It feels good to type. It feel natural. I remember in higihschool I took a keyboarding class. What a fucking waste of time, and at the same time it was one of the most important classes I’ve ever taken. On one hand, it was the first period of my first day ever in highschool, so it was pretty weird. I… I… I’m think of it now. I remember I was one of the few freshmen in the class, the rest were goofballs and clowns. People that were serious about school didn’t take that class, but at the same time it gave me skills and rescources that ive just gotten better at through the years. I mean, I remember I went into that class not knowing how to type at all. But all it took was my teacher, I think her name is Ms. Waslayena. Or at least that’s how you pronounce it, all it took was for her to put boxers on my hands. It forced me not to look at my fingers when I type. I saw my progression right in front of me. I mean, I guess that was the point of the class, to see yourself get better throughout the class. But then again, it didn’t’ really count as a credit. It should be counted as a humanities or philosophy class. God I am such a weird nerd. What is wrong with me? Why do I keep on criticizing myself? I keep on freaken, idk. It’s like I can’t even take myself seriously why would anybody take me seriously? I think that actor lady found me attractive. I can’t tell. Maybe. That shoulder touch. Future me, if you are so bored and are reading this terribly, just awfully, written paragraph, one, you need to go to bed. And two, you need to realize that I am talking about my first ever screenwriting meetup. Look at me, writing in my little blog like a little fourth grader. You might as well role the closing credits. Maybe it’s because I can’t stay focused. Maybe it’s because I am fucked up all the time. Maybe it’s clouding my vetter judgment. Maybe that’s why stoners can’t do well in life, they are always never finishing. God, what a direction my life has turned.

I remember sitting in my dorm room in my freshman year of college looking at a website about weed. I was fascinated. I don’t remember when I started getting interested in smoking, but for some reason I got really intrigued. I think it was because of the pot brownie. Man, that was marvelous. I will never get that high again. Yeah so one day Dion brings back pot brownies. We eat them, you know it’s the classic story. We eat them, we hang out waiting for them to start activating or whatever, and we get disappointed, thinking that it didn’t’ work. Then all of a sudden I can’t feel my tongue. I ran into my dorm with dion and invite my friend sam over. Sam didn’t’ have any friends then so he starting hanging out with us. God, sam is such an interesting character. I’ll talk aobut him later. But yeah, this pot story is borning me. We didn’t do anything. I mean, we walked around but I don’t know, we were just kids.

I think I start to cry when I write this because it is the most pathetic thing I do. I just feel bad about the whole thing. Maybe it does get random thoughts off my chest, but is it worth it? To log all of this? Nobody will read it… I need to stop second guessing myself and just do it.

I feel like I must be doing something wrong with this job thing because things arnt happening. Why is everything my fault, or at leaset feel like it is?

8/31/17: My mission statement:

For here on out, I will set aside time to write The Buddy System every single day.

For here on out, I will only drink coffee, water, and beer.

For here on out, whenever I write I will put my phone in another room on silent.

For here on out, I will write for time, not content.

For here on out, I will only write in my free time during the day.

For here on out, I will focus on my writing.

9/6/17

Some days are better than others. Nothing is every how you would expect it to be. Today I started working at the library at Texas Southern. I had such high hopes about it; it’s not terrible. It’s just boring. I had high hopes about today, about how it was going to be a good day, but it ended up being dissapoiment. Once again, nothing bad happened specifically, and of course I am beign a bit too overdramtic, but I woke up with such good feelings that I expected to carry on through the day, but didn’t. Instead, all I got was insecurity, boredom, disappointment, and hunger. And im cold, sitting at this desk with no food. I wonder if Jordon made any of that chicken. You know, typing this is making my fingers feel a bit better. At least it is killing time. Anyways, maybe I shouldn’t expect good days or bad days, maybe the feelings I feel when I wake up are not premminitions, but just feelings tht don’yt represent anything beyond my own head. Maybe feelings are not important and the oder of nature is just a random set of coincedences that just happen to work out. But how do you control your feelings? Are you supposed to? How do you deal with them? I guess dealing with negative emotions is important, but if you deal with hgetting rid of negative emotions, wouldn’t you also hve to deal with getting positive emotions? What is with this emotional bias towards happiness? I mean, think about it. If you feel happy at any point in time it is going to go away, just like sadness. But we put so much effort into dealing with and removing sadness from our lives that we make being happy the ultimate goal. And then when we become happy, and it leaves us, just like sadness, it all we can think about is that high that happiness gave us. It’s a drug, and I’m willing to let go of it, all of it, in order to not feel the emotional tole that disappointment brings. I guess I am coming from the point of view of someone that ris more disappointed than the alternative. Maybe it boils down to me not having such high expectations out of life. But why should i? My faather has always told me he holds me to a high expectation, but why? What would be the end goal? For me to be a happy person? For him to be? For me to be a man? For him to be? Or maybe it’s all of the above, but that’s risky business because of disappointment. What would the alternative be though? He could just not hold me to a standard? Or maybe hold me to a lesser standard? What would my life be like is my faather held me to a terrible standard? I would probably surpass his expectations. What if he didn’t hold me to a standard? Nothing bad, nor good would happen, it would just be us living in the moment, taking it day by day, taking what is and isn’t and that would be all. Maybe that’s how you are supposed to treat life, with no expectations, with no standard, because once you create a standard, then everything is either going to fall above or below that standard, things are either going to be good or bad, and that is the root of problems. Good vs. Bad.

I wish I could write that more eloquently. I am sure I could. For whomever is reading this right now, you should totally try and rephrase whatever point I just made to something that makes you sound deep. What is my obsession with being “deep”? Is it to compensate for not having anything on the surface? What does that mean? Do I look too far into things, or does my logic of overthinking have some truth. Ah, that’s what it must be. Truth. Truth is a lie within itself, the only things that could be considered objectively true are the things that you can see, calculate and it be transferred through the universe and have a collective agreement on it. And what is that? Nothing in this realm of thinking. I mean I don’t think my consciousness has the ability to comprehend something that is universally true. I mean, I know what you’re thinking, what about numbers? For clarification, number are an agreed upond system of measurement by the human raise, they do not necarelly dictate universally.

Moment by moment. Breath by breath, humanity hangs on a thin thread, on the verge of melting and combusting. One word, one slip, one loss of breath. And yet, we remain in balance.

9/8/17

I think I want a girlfriend. A cute black girl with natural hair who isn’t obseesed with social status or going out or appearences. I want a girl that is funny, witty, socially conscious, opinionated, smart, eats healthy, SMOKES WEED, has a wide range of music, has a taste in art, fucks all the time, isd non conformist, denies tradiontional gender roles, likes to eat, is cool. Pretty much the perfect person I guess. I know that is a lot to ask for, and a lot of it I have to find within myself, blah blah blah. You know, why is it that I have to follow conventional wisdom? Just because I read all these things about, oh, you’re never going to find the perfect match, you have to be right within yourself before you can find the right person, people aren’t going to love you until you love yourself, blah blah blah. Fuck all that shit. Girlfriends just don’t appear when you’re ready, it’s all just coincidence and circumstance. There is no cosmic order that supplies to girlfirends once they are deemed responsible by the Christian nations in this world. Also, I want a girlfriend that is not Christian. Is that too much to ask?

Somebody stole my bike…. Or at least, that is what I can assume. For some reason I saw this coming. For some reason whenever I would look out onto the balcony I would always expect my bike to not be there. For some reason I wasn’t as shocked as I could be once I found out that my bike was gone… It had to be somebody near me. Somebody who lived near me.

9/11/17

So far in my classes today I have not learned anything. So far it has just been an accumulation of of professor rants and sidebars, and it’s the third week of school and have not started any lectures. Teacher here are jut going to put us in groups and just start lecturing from the book. But let’s not give them that much credit. What is really is going to happen is the kids in the class are going to run the class, continue to distract themselves with cell phones and worldstar, while the professor continues to rant through their perceptions.

9/17/2017

What am I waiting for? Why can’t I act on the things thata I want to? Is it the drugs? Why do I keep asking myself that question when I know the answer? Why do I keep asking questions??? I wish my brain would just shutup, but the more I silence it the more it wants to speak. I can’t escape myself and I feel the urge to get out but I just cant. I cant. I cant stop saying I cant. My body does one thing and my mind says another. What do I do? Who do I talk to?

Oh here we go. Another self pity induce crying fit about to happen. I’m such a little ibtch. I’m such a pussy. Get over yourself. You see, now I know that wasn’t true because it didn’t make me tear up. Something is wrong with me. That I know of. Something deep inside me is damaged and it needs repairing, and I can’t keep reparing it with drugs and alcohol. Oh shut the fuck up ryan jesus Christ. People are going through a lot worse than you and yet you still find reasons to complain.

You see what this is? This is your dad speaking to you. STOP. Don’t let him get to you. Run from him.

9/25/2017

I can’t stand people, i think that is the conclusion that i have made in my head. I can’t stand women, and i can’t stand men. I can’t stand why they feel the need to do the things that they do. Especially college aged people.. They’re disgusting. Why is it that women feel the need to be cute, to be proper, to be #queens? Don’t they see the fault in that? What are they being cute based off of? Who told them they had to be proper, why can’t they be on the same level as kings? Why do men feel the need to expel there heterosexuality? Why do they feel the need to prove it? To want more, to always be searching for that confirmation that they are a man? I just don’t get it. I’m not going to sit here and pretend like i have all the answers, but i definitely have a lot of questions. I think this was all triggered by looking at the Instagram comments on the articles about the #takeaknee thing. Like, they are literally protesting racism, how can you be against that? Well, people said that it was offensive to the troops. What troops are saying that though? It’s unpatriotic…. Give me a break. Once black people starat doing “unpatriotic” things, then all the people who benefit from America start being patriotic. Plus, why should i give a shit about the troops? I didn’t ask them to fight for me, and what are they fighting for anyways? My freedom? Who is encroaching on my freedom? Am i under a direct threat to my way of life from foreign invaders, or is America spreading values that aren’t mine across the globe? If that is the case, then why should i support that? I seriously do not give a shit about the troops, and i don’t respect the people that do. It’s patriotism without thinking about what patriotism is. I know these are unpopular opinions, but it is interesting that i would be shot dead in the streets if i were to say that. I can’t even post that online without fear of maybe a future employer finding that and not hiring me because i don’t support the troops publicly. I think that people do things because it is the “right” thing to do, but i don’t think that people think about what is the right thing. I think that people just accept their opinions as true and won’t listen to anybody else that inflicts with their morals. And i think that makes them bad people. I think close minded people are bad, and yes, there are things that i am close minded about too, but hey i guess that would make me a bad person then, right?

Yes, it is time for me to start accepting who i truly am. I don’t go outside to meet people. I don’t extend myself farther then would be immedieatly comfortable. I don’t want to. I don’t hide the fact that i am scared to go outside my comfort zone, to break out of my usual space for the sake of some sort of media dreamland destined for picturesque photos and high school musical messages. I don’t think the world works like that, or at least mine. But why not? My mother told me today that i am a direct result of my own thought… is that true? How could it be? It doesn’t make any logical sense.

Figure it out, make it happen, say something else. Don’t get distracted, have faith, see it all through. Fuck all that, sit down, stay inside, fuel your hate. Make sure your house isn’t burned.

There is a small variety of people that attend texas southern university. There is, of course, the outspoken studnets, who, when given a chance, will dominate a classroom and start reinforcing their opinions, pretending they are right. But nobody will challenge their ideas unless they want to be classed a know it all. Or wrong. Or an outcast. At texas southern, you either conform or sit and watch, diversity in thought is an issue.

Then there is the people who just care about social media. I think social media gives black people who don’t speak a voice, a distraction, escapism from the ideas of this university. Education, capitalism, race, they are all permanent figure heads that propel an existential crises to the lost youth. And yet, nobody talks about it, it’s mostly just black social justice, an institution that breaks down more than it builds. The things that it does build are biased and void of deeper thought. Not to be confused with me being agisnt social justice. I just don’t like biased social justice. I guess there is no way to be completely unbiased. But it is time for us to decide that race is a social contruct that matters on an abstract level, but not physical level. I wonder why.

11/03/2017

Today is my birthday, and once again, through y triple sec sticky fingers, I have become morbidly depressed. Not going to lie, I have faught it off all day. I mean to think of all the mental hurdles i went through to try and justify to myself that i wasn’t sad. I felt it all day long… when i opened the fridge i had to remind myself not to let the depression that is in the back of my mind creep to the front. I put on a smile for Jordon, tried to engage in conversation, tried to be lively, tried to be truthful. But today i realized the difference between jrodon and a friend… Jordon doesn’t get personal. Jordon doesn’t want to talk about all of the emotional trauma that my mind goes through, whether justified or not. Jordon goes through that already, i mean everybody does. Only friends try to pry deeper into another individual. Jordon is my roommate, and my brother. Nothin more nothing less. He is there to look after me though…. I think my problem is i treat everybody as either a brother or an enemy, there’s no in between. I wish i was social, i think i used to use socialization in ancogdoches to combat my depression, and it usually worked. But here in Houston i don’t have that rescourse; i don’t have any connecting bonds with anybody else, anybody that i can be honest with an share my true feelings with…. I feel helpess. Depression….. look at me i havnt even been diagnosed with depression and i am acting like i technically have it… what’s wrong with me? Everytime i ask myself that question it is usually after some morally deficient, or self deprication remark that i try to push down inside of me… but i continue on… maybe that’s why i am constantly sad, becaue i have reasoned with myself that i am a good person when really… i am bad

#drunk

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