nihilist theories, transcendentalist thoughts, and a bit of lack of emotion

hello, hello, world. I have decided that I will break the convention of today’s society and not capitalize anything—anything except for those god-forsaken I’s that autocorrect themselves on this audaciously austere computer. (how dare you, computer. no.)

I have returned from my quest against life and happiness and I have neither, I assure you, and I am somewhat well and alive. somewhat.

nevertheless I have enough strength to write a few words (few, hah) on my blog after the longest hiatus on the face of hiatus-universe.

I’ve gone through a lot, I’m still going through a lot, and I will continue to go through a lot (is the gist of what I’m getting from life right now). it’s not really going to get any better, it seems, but hey, that’s life, and I’ve got to take it in—somehow.

 

well. here I am.

 

okay, for nihilist theories and transcendentalist thoughts.

first of all I’ve been thinking (though then again, when have I not been thinking) about life and society and things like that. I’ve been, to say the least, feeling very lost lately. lost in life, lost in society, lost in myself. I’ve been creating an abyss for myself (which I fondly call my own grave) by drowning in my own analyzations (I don’t care if that’s not a word) of myself and people around me. I’m a bit of an idealist and an analyst when it comes to things. so reality doesn’t really work out well for me.

anyhow. that’s not the point. the point is that I’ve come across a very, very important point about life.

it’s that there is none.

(gasp.)

there is no meaning to life, god forbid.

there is. no. meaning. to. life.

call me negative, call me a nihilist, an anarchist, a communist, whatever you want. but there really is no meaning to life. there is no one goal in life. there is no one answer that we will all someday come across and gasp and reach for our foreheads and say, “oooooooh” like it was an answer you had known all along anyways.

no.

(this was my search to un-lost myself. because I was feeling terribly lost, you know? so I tried to un-lost myself. (there is a difference between un-lost and un-lose so deal with it.))

(to me there is.)

the reason so many people feel “lost” in life; so many people feel like there needs to be an answer; like there is something waiting for them out there—a destination, a place. a finish line--

the reason so many people feel lost is because they are searching for an answer that doesn’t exist. they are searching for the finish line that they’ll never reach. they’re searching for a destination that is neither near nor real. they are searching for nothing, and in consequence, they feel an utter sense of loss and confusion in this blind search for nothingness.

let me put it clearly:

people sometimes say that life is a race. some people say that life is a journey. no, no, nonononono. life is a field. it’s a plain old freaking field (I’m sorry, I rarely use such lowly words as “freaking” to describe things, but I felt it very necessary to describe the utter vulgarness and repulsiveness of the reality) with nothing in it. you’re standing in it. or maybe you’re sitting. but it doesn’t matter. because it’s a. freaking. field.

you can get up and go somewhere if you want. you can choose your own destination and get there. you can sit down and do nothing the rest of your life. you can make something out of it or you can not make something out of it. but that’s your choice. it’s not some journey. it’s not some race. it’s a field. it’s a freaking field.

and you’re standing in it, searching for a light switch that isn’t there. sorry, bud, there’s no light switch to turn the lights on. you’re in the dark forever.

(as you can see I am not in the healthiest of mental states.)

 

…now, if that was a bit overwhelming. now for the lack of emotion.

well, I’ve been thinking (again, when am I not)—or rather, analyzing (again, when am I not) myself. and I’ve noticed that I have quite noticeably lost a lot of emotion over the past few months. whatever it is that instigated this I have no idea, but I definitely have a sudden decrease in sympathy and an increase in apathy when it comes to reading literature or watching movies. sad ones, I mean.

I mean, I was watching that one episode of BBC’s Sherlock where—fine, I won’t say. but it was sad, heartbreaking, and moving, and all I did was say “oh, well that happened. okay.” and you know what? not a single tear.

my friend apparently cried for hours after watching this.

I felt a little weird.

then comes the fault in our stars, the modern tear-inducing tragedy of our internet-obsessive, narcissistic generation.

nothing!

nothing at all.

not a single tear.

I swear to you, I was trying to cry. god forbid—I was trying to cry!

but you know what, I just observed the losses, took note of the tragedy, and shed no tear.

(to be honest I wasn’t even sure when I was supposed to be crying.)

is this bad?

 

I have no idea.

I think I’m losing my sense of sympathy.

(but then again, I sympathize literally everyone around me. or rather, pity. these days I’ve been noticing the struggles of everybody around me, which has gotten me deeper into myself and instigated my never-ending thoughts about life and how “beautifully flawed” it is.)

(sighs.)

 

good bye, and I hope you have a mental state saner than mine.

Lunchables

I used to envy the kids in my school who brought Lunchables to lunch.

 

In case you don’t know what Lunchables are, here’s a nice picture:

 

 

They’re pre-made, fake lunches that they sell cheap at stores like Shop Rite or Target (our local Target has a mini-grocery store inside of it). It’s basically the epitome of unhealthy lunching, and when you’re young, unhealthy=awesome.

I envied my friends and the other kids who would bring Lunchables to lunch. It was just so—cool! That you could bring your lunch in that pre-made, bought, cardboard box, and show the entire world that you have a piece of candy for an aftersnack. Oh, how I envied them. It was first or second grade.

I remember asking my mom if she could buy it for me, whenever we passed that aisle at the market. She’d shoo it away like it was some inferior piece of artificial food. (Which it was, but at the time, I was not aware of it. It was a piece of unattainable heaven to me.)

 

 

Now that I’m older, you know, at least five years older, I look back and I think about those kids who brought Lunchables to the lunch tables and had to eat them every day (or at least, nearly every day) for lunch. And I realize how sad it is.

Not sad as in the sarcastic, mean sort of ‘sad.’ I mean sad in the original way. Sad as in, it makes me teary. (Fine. Not teary. But you know what I mean. That kind of sad.)

 

To have your mother buy lunch for you—not just any lunch, but the cheap sort, I realize, wasn’t exactly the ‘unattainable heaven’ I once thought it was. I’m not trying to offend anybody with Lunchables—they’re still cool and everything, but it kind of signifies that you either can’t afford a healthy lunch every day (because, unfortunately, let’s face it—it’s not exactly recommended by the United States Department of Nutrition, you know) or that your mother doesn’t have the time/attention to make your lunch for you. I’m talking about first graders. Second graders.

At the time, I idolized those kids, having no idea what it really meant to bring a Lunchable to lunch and seeing your friends bring out foil-wrapped, ham and turkey sandwich with the homemade applesauce. I wasn’t living in the richest town when I saw my friends and peers (some of them) with Lunchables. And thinking back on it, it kind of signifies a lot of things in life. Some things we take for granted, some things we think too good of, and some things we don’t think of at all. Sometimes, we really do need to sit back and appreciate the things we have. Like parents who care for you. Or a somewhat stable financial position.

And this is regardless of the Lunchables thing. It might sound cliché (in fact, it does, I admit it), but we need a time to give thanks other than Thanksgiving. Because Thanksgiving is, like, Costco’s party day or something. Thanksgiving where we don’t scramble and stress and complain about getting turkeys and making millions of dollars worth of food that some kids at the other side of the world are dying because of the lack of it. I’m talking about a sort of thanksgiving when we sit down, we eat a normal dinner, and then we think about why we’re here, how blessed we are to be here in the first place (and not the other sperm of your father or a different egg of your mother—that’s some intense competition, you know. We’re the chosen ones), and just let it all sink in. The food in front of you. Bam. Gone.

 

The roof above you.

Bam. Gone.

 

The nice, warm, thick clothes you have.

Bam. Gone. (Except for rags. Let’s keep you clothed.)

 

Your smiling parents. (or ranting. But either way they love you deep inside.)

Bam. Gone. (Or on drugs or something.)

 

Your loving brother who pulls your hair out.

Bam. Gone.

 

The nice weather.

Bam. Gone.

 

There you are, sitting in a hot, dry, arid place with no food, no family, and a few pieces of cloth as garments. There are people like that still living on the same Earth that we’re standing on, stomping on, complaining about the slowness of our computers or the suckiness of our school. And while it might be too much to ask everybody to stop (because, let’s face it, I complain, too), we should at least acknowledge and appreciate the things that are always there for us.

 

Like that street light that stays red and won’t turn green on that street in our town.

 

Because there are always people who are worse off than us. (The fact that you’re reading this means that you have a computer, so this is probably mostly true.)

And if not, then think about the other sperm cell that could have fertilized your mother’s egg. Think about how close that was. You almost died before you were born.

(Sorry I was studying Biology.)

(Sorry not sorry.)

 

So yeah. Through that reminiscent memory of Lunchables, I have just given you a rant, a lecture, about thankfulness.

Chew on that.

Bug Season: Get Prepared.

Brace yourselves. It's the all-famous, well known, infamous Bug Season slowly approaching us.

Scratch that.

Slowly crawling towards us. Slowly using-their-hundred-legs-to-scramble towards us.

Summer is the season of bugs. It is the Season of Bugs. I am serious right now. I hope a lot of people think the same (because if not, that means there's something seriously wrong with our house and me).

In the summer, bugs dominate. They grow three inches. They find their armies. They gather their artillery and men bugs. They go to the armory to stock up on new ammo. They train hardcore for a few weeks. Then they're ready. They're armed.

First, it's the flies.
The flies attack first. They're the front-line soldiers. They buzz into the homes, slowly but quickly (I know. Just go with the flow.), secretly slipping into your home beyond your knowledge until you hear that weird buzzing near your window and see one of them (finally cracked under the military pressure) spazzing out at the window, hopelessly reaching for the sun.

They land everywhere, rubbing their hands and pleading for mercy while you (shaking) threateningly hold a newspaper up to think: to slap or not to slap?


Then, it's the mosquitoes.
They're the night-shifts. They're more powerful at night, when people are unsuspecting, vulnerable, and fleshy. They silently lurk nearby and then dive right into your skin. They might carry Plasmodium, which are their special biological weapons that they have genetically engineered to make us malaric. (Did you forget? With the flow.)
They make sure that they leave you injured in at least three places. They leave you sore, itching, and irritated. Their little signature is that familiar red bump that whispers: "Scratch me. Scratch me."


The worst are the ants.
The ants are the invaders. They're the tiny little invaders that you don't realize they're there until it's too late. With their massive number and invisible vessels, you'll never know where they're docking at or, for that matter, where they came from. They're there, and they dominate. They're not even that strong, either. It's just that there's too many of them.
They outnumber us.
(Hah. By a lot. Four versus practically five hundred)
Once one of them gets into your house, it's the end of the world. (Please don't take this seriously.)

You need to evacuate the house and immediately contact the FBI. They might be planting bugs into your house to listen in on top secret conversations (like what you did at school today. That's code red intrusion--nobody should know what you did at school today.). Or even worse, they might be getting ready to put in a bomb.

And then, the real bombs of their army--the centipedes. The centipedes are their last resort, the solitary soldier that has a massive amount of power, strength, and fear-inducing looks. Their numerous limbs makes them nimble and quick in their ruthless trampling of the house. One centipede passing by is an equivalent to a level 5 hurricane. They leave houses annihilated, trees dismantled, and lives lost. The name itself gives shudders and shoots fear into the hearts of even the best of us, and they do not stop at any point. Their roar is fiercer than a lion, mightier than a bear. It is so loud that it may permanently damage our hearing. Thee deep voiced grumble that rolls into a loud and barbaric roar is perhaps the only warning before they begin their mission. Their only motive is trample. TRAMPLE AND ROAR! Anything that dares to get in its way, under its humongous, heavy feet are doomed to die the most terrible death.
(Don't even get me started on the millipedes.)


So here is my inspirational speech to my fellow Homo sapiens:

We, humans, are an indestructible race. We are one tight knit people (who throw bombs at each other) and love each other ever so dearly (so dearly that we throw bombs at each other). We are united as one people (that is cut up into hundreds of countries constantly bickering) and we can. We can. Defeat these puny bugs! (Don't forget the puny millipedes, guys.) They invade? We do not hinder. Fear does not stop us. It strengthens us. Together, humans. Together. We shall defeat the merciless bugs. We shall live! We shall prosper! We shall taste victory!


P.S. I think I have formed a theory as to why we are often afraid of bugs. (Not all of us, but a great bunch.)
It's because of their blatant invasiveness. Their obvliousness of our power. We are at the top of the food chain, and anything that is above us scares us (naturally). But what scares us even more is when we cannot control those under us. Bugs are one instance. They are under us in the food chain, but we cannot control them from entering our houses, invading our homes, and buzzing around in our house. They are ubiquitous. Everywhere. And we can't do anything about it, which drives us crazy. It scares the wits out of us, because we thought we were 'better' than them, that we could kill them (as predators) and naturally 'control' them. But we can't.
I dunno. A guess.

Hi

I really have not posted in a long time.

But yes, I am alive.

Leeleelee.

Eugh

Time for me to complain! :D

You see, every weekend of this month, I have a piano audition. It's driving me nuts, because I don't feel prepared for any of them (and I'm auditioning with the same 3 pieces heh).
I need to practice, I know.
But I feel lazy!
I get home, and I'm all hungry, so I eat.
Then I get really tired for some reason. And I don't feel like doing anything (so I don't). Then I decide that I don't want to sit down at the piano (for some reason) so I walk upstairs to do my homework.
Then I finish my homework late and then I don't practice piano.
For some reason, even if I actually think deeply into it I know that piano is better than homework (as in, I like piano better than homework), I just can't get myself to do piano as soon as I get home.

I do, every once in a while.
And I barely practice piano. Which is why I feel unprepared. !!!!

Today I wasted two hours on the computer searching up stuff about school. Afterwards, I felt this horrible feeling where I didn't do anything and just wasted my time.
I mean, if I had slept for two hours, I would feel no remorse. At least I enjoyed it, you know? Or if I had drawn for two hours or something.
But searching up stuff about school!
And it got me nowhere, too.

Heh,
well I finished my homework early today, too (which is good :D).
So I'm happy. I'm finishing my homework early these days. (early = 10 PM) Which is good. Because early means more sleep, and more sleep means more growth.

More growth means happiness.

...Okay I sound pathetic.

Whatever! :D

But I will
OH SHOOT
TOMORROWS FRIDAY
AND
I DIDN'T PRACTICE
AND
UHHHH
IT'S ON SATURDAY
AND
OH
OHMY


Spasm done.
D: I'm screwed.
But wish me luck!
Kaybye.