MODERATION:       


(First and foremost, I'd like to amend one of my initial statements for this blog - a post might not be up on the daily, but rather, as often as I find something to rant about. This rids me of the guilt of not posting anything for a couple of days because of writer's block or sheer laziness.)

In this virtual era of lightspeed lifestyles and constant consumption, I can say without a doubt that the days of moderation are far behind us. People are becoming less and less edified in the art of being temperant. Today's standards follows a pseudo-Coldstone Creamery set of terms like "want it", "need it," and "gotta have it." There's such an emphasis on instant gratification that we've come to depreciate the value of what we already have, and rather focus on the next big thing. I attribute this to a depletion of moderation practice. So few can say that they are able to restrain themselves from their impulses. Nowadays, you see twelve-year olds with iPhones and iPads. And while we can blame the parents for introducing their preteen with such addicting technology, we also have the current mindset of our era to blame. I suppose it's just one of the repercussions of The Digital Age. We grow increasingly more attached to our belongings in a true Huxleyan fashion, to the point where I've seen folks at restaurants avoid conversation by incessantly texting with their phones.
    Aside from the technological spin on moderation, I've recently been suffocate by its absence in a verbal sense. Allow me to explain - some friends are needy. Too needy. Needy to the point where they need to be conversationally maintained on a day in, day out basis. I resent that notion greatly. As good as a friend as I am, nobody enjoys conversational overload. In short, I've been pestered every day for the past nine days via Facebook. Heck, I don't even chat up my best friends the way we've been communicating. And what irks me is that the topics are always the same, and my responses become shorter and shorter as my attention span depletes. I have no problem with said friend in person, but he virtually, he requires too much attention. Speak IN MODERATION. It's the summer; you should be out doing things of your own. And it's an inevitability that you'll run out of things to talk about when you're constantly in contact with someone. It's like a married couple who just so happens to work at the same place - they have little to talk about when they get home, because they already know everything that went on in the other's day. You have to give people some time to miss you, I believe. Otherwise, conversations run drier than Sarah Palin doing stand-up. Furthermore, my previous take on technological moderation also comes into play with this predicament - Facebook now allows you to see if the person has read your message, which I find invasive and annoying, to be honest. Due to the ever-present urge to stay relevant with what others are doing and writing on Facebook, I find myself losing practice of moderation, as I impulsively give in to the modern notion, which leads to me being spotted, then chatted off a cliff. There's always the option of blocking him, but he'd notice and be very offended. Oh, well, you can't please 'em all, right? I'll have to exercise that thought with much moderation.

                                                                 LUCK:          


Oh, what luck. You just so happened to catch me on the day of our nation's bad luck. Friday the 13th (hold for eerie music). I've had a 9-day long blogger's block, which is unusual because my haitus..es (I suppose that's how you'd pluralize that; haiti would be odd, because it's spelled just like Haiti. I digress.) are usually caused by my general complacency that swarms over me in a gentle summer breeze. This time around, the hiatus was caused strictly by a lack of material, which I find perpetually perturbing, seeing how my mind blabbers on at 1000 miles per hour. Luckily, (see how it keeps working its way into the conversation?) I figured today's focus was a perfect jumping-off point for discussion. Today is a good opportunity to recap my luck as of lately and wholly.

     Lately, my luck has been a wishy-washy tumble of mostly bad luck met with glimpses of good luck. On the bad luck spectrum, we have: has not yielded any results involving employment AT ALL this summer, friends have consistently bailed on plans, hasn't seen a gig in weeks (I'm starving for some noise), and has frozen up every time I have an opportunity to talk to Her. Conversely, on the Good Luck spectrum we have: managed to secure my stay in Maryland for Otakon, fixed Fall Quarter schedule mishap, has a surplus of money in his college account after finally making all the right moves, has wonderful friends that keep me sane, has a boatload of exciting media (games, shows, movies) keeping me entertained in the meantime, and has been cranking out a lot of good lyrics in the songwriting department.

    Wholly, however, optimistic claims of luck tend to clash with the cynical. On the Bad Luck spectrum, we have: father ran off before I was ever born, is born from a mother who was abused by said runaway and became viciously hostile to all life forms and cares only of herself, born into a dirt poor family, has endured several years of physical/emotional/psychological abuse, and had a monumental dark day on my 15th birthday that forever changed my life. On the up-and-flipside: I am a fully-functional human being born on the planet Earth and gets to live in the 21st century. Honestly, people tend to overlook this omnipertinent fact - you could've been born a single-cell organism in a different galaxy, in which you have no sentient thought process, or life activity except for internally. I live in a day and age of unparalleled tolerance, (in comparison to prior ages; we still have a vast number of things that folks are intolerant of) freedom, mobility, open source usage, and access to technology that our forefathers would have never conceived possible. We're exposed to millions of different foods, musics, walks of life, cultures, languages, and for the most part, we've come to a point in humanity where we can meet a stranger from just about anywhere in the world and bear little hostility (again, for the most part). There are innumerous facets of luck that I have failed to mention, but this overarching, all-powerful fact remains what I feel I am most lucky to possess. As flawed as society may be nowadays, it is the apex of civilization in terms of communication and progress. And I couldn't be luckier.

                                                                   PLANS:          


Plans. We all have them. Why, even on this day of our nation's independence a fond 236 years ago, our forefathers surely had some plan of attack to overthrow their oppressors successfully. Why then, is it the case that I seemingly have no active blueprint, no premeditated, currently-scribed path of which to follow at this point? My summer has gone nothing like I had originally planned; everyone has been up to their agenda, I'm gig-deprived, and currently STILL unemployed. I didn't have any plans today, a day of merriment and pride in our country. In fact, I stayed inside and watched Star Wars on Spike all day long. (The tagline was "May the Fourth be with you," I couldn't resist.) It's high tide July and I'm not nearly anywhere I thought I'd be at this point. And I take full responsibility for the fact that the blame is all my own. I half-expected the summer to unfold easily, and for opportunities to just fall in my lap, but that's not the way the real world works. And the magnitude of that reality is hitting me full force.

In the meantime, while my nighttime perception is in overdrive, I might as well virtually write a tentative checklist of things to complete this summer and the following quarter:

-Instantiate an exercise regimen
-Seek and OBTAIN employment
-Practice my bass-playing
-Go to Otakon (awesome nerd convention in Maryland that really banks on me having a job by then)
-Undergo preliminary coding training, since I've missed out on so much in my absence, and I'm a complete scrub
-Make it to Shark Field Day in Camden, New Jersey with Emilia and the ladies
-Man up and take the necessary steps to ensure future romantic encounters go as planned/fantasized

There. I'm feeling better about my lack of plans already. Now to put these into action. I'll be needing some sleep to do so, however. PROCRASTINATORS UNITE...TOMORROW!

                                                  INVESTMENTS:    


Investments. Be they a financial or emotional one, the outcome can either be plentiful or horrific. Today started with me investing a lot energy in searching for some part-time summer employment. I even donned a monkey suit...in 90 degree weather...in Brooklyn. I left the house, blue folder with 10 copies of my resume in hand, and went to about 12 different local businesses. NONE were hiring. I got about 9 "we'll get back to you" 's. Sigh. Had I invested energy sooner, I might actually could've been employed by now. I was rather disgruntled by my inability to snag something as trivial as a part-time summer job. My angst was palpable. I writhed in financial anguish for quite a few hours. By dinnertime, the Procreator dragged me to the mall to help lug home her assorted mall groceries. I actually didn't mind, because I love the atmosphere of the mall. What did mind was her INCESSANT droning on with questions and comments that only she cares about. Y'know, there's a difference between a conversation and you thinking out loud - a conversation involves TWO people mutually exchanging words. No social contract states that I'm obliged to listen and/or respond to you verbalizing your trivial thoughts. I digress. Back to the story. So we settled on eating at Target for dinner, where the tables were all conjoined, so you're always sitting next to a stranger. Oddly enough, I just so happened to be seated next to a trio of millionaires. I kid you not. Sophie, Gloria, and Joan, the proud owners of a hefty $142 million for investing in coffee stock. They were cultural and behavioral anthropologists who had noticed that coffee is the second-most desired substance on the planet besides oil. And since their initial investment in September, the trio has been on an uphill financial climb.
    They followed up the initial discussion with some wise advice on my job hunting. (Direct quote from Gloria) "If you invest effort, you will reap the rewards." I smiled because I saw what she had done there. But even out of context, it was still good advice. That what was missing from my life - a sense of investment. If I confided in the idea of investing effort enough, surely something as menial as a summer job would be all but mine. I couldn't help but think of placing this advice in a more romantic context. I've already invested so much emotion with Her, but I hadn't invested enough effort. She's always so hard to get a hold of. She sporadically comments on things, (she has some cute phrases that make me swoon, not to mention she uses terms of endearment that make me melt a little) only to disappear shortly after. As soon as I manned up and decided to initiate a conversation, (Lord knows about what though, I would've frozen after a simple "hello") I'm informed  that she is no longer online *allows a singular manly tear to roll down his right cheek* As far as personal experience goes, it seems that she might like me...I pray. It would just kinda really bum me out to see her in anybody else's arms. Most other guys find her attractive because of her physical attributes; those are absolutely secondary to me. Her personality goes above and beyond what I could want. When I think up the perfect girl for me, she still doesn't hold a candle to Her. It's my hope that if I put my effort forth that she will reciprocate my feelings for her. Now that's a worthy investment if ever there were one.

                                                            OBSCURITY:           


An odd encounter with a one-hit wonder today made me muse about obscurity. While on my usual route to go pick up Chinese, (because the Procreator can't do it herself) I spotted a surprisingly familiar face when I walked inside the store. I was face-to-face with Lil Mama, current America's Best Dance Crew panel judge, and the face behind the 2007 overnight sensation "Lipgloss." Her song fit in perfectly with the zeitgeist of the late 2000's. We were getting into the era of writing obscure (there goes that word) songs about anything, and she had capitalized on that aspect. We chatted for a bit, and she was flattered that I remembered her, even as a one-hit wonder. Apparently, she fell off the charts when she upstaged Jay-Z during a live performance, and the world has forgotten of her musical existence since. She mentioned that she was hard at work looking for someone to bring her back into the spotlight. Seeing her in those brief moments gave me the instant sensation of "Oh, yeah! I totally remember when you used to be relevant." Then the downward spiral occurred. Fame is fleeting, ladies and gents.
     And it got me thinking, why is it that our culture is so prone to obscurity? We criticize and scorn people with the utmost scrutiny for a single slip-up that seals their entire fate. People, songs, hard-hitting issues - why do they all vanish into the notorious fog of obscurity? After due consideration, I have but one answer to offer: our culture thrives on ephemerality; we get this unwarranted kick from the latest fad, trend, or entity that is "in," only to swap said fad with the next up-and-coming trend. This is what I like to call "The Assembly Line Syndrome." We take the entity, spend a few fond moments with it, then part ways for another entity. Let's look at a few examples, shall we?

-Boy Bands/Pop Stars

Ugh. The very premise of their fame rests on ephemrality. Painfully so. In a day and age where I assumed boy bands were dead, they just spawn overnight with a different set of faces. That goes for Pop Stars, too. Their foundations just SCREAM for obscurity. They're perfect material for celebrity nostalgia shows like "Where Are They Now?" *cough* Justin Bieber and One Direction *cough* Sure, they're in the prime of their youth and looking spiffy NOW, but just wait. Give it ten years, minimum. There's a few options for the roads they could head down:

-Completely bankrupt
-Chronic drug addict who sneaks into their local Wendy's just to steal packets of salt that they can cut up into lines and snort because they can't afford anything legitimate.
-Current or recovering alcoholic
-All of the above

Because you don't hear of a successful former boy band member who is happily sane, sitting on a respectable amount of income. It just doesn't happen. It's the price of the tainted fame they initially signed up for.

Another example:

-Silly Bands

Let's think back two years to a time where a nonsensical man made millions overnight for his invention of Silly Bands, zany bracelets with unusual designs. The fad swept the nation and middle schoolers and high schoolers ate it up like a well-prepared meringue. They were the hottest thing on the street until the kids realized just how easily they could break, and like that, the overnight sensation had come to a close.

A closing example of a hard-hitting issue that's fading into obscurity:

-Kony 2012

Hey, remember back a few months when all of your friends on Facebook had suddenly become cosmopolitan social activists who hoped to strike down Joseph Kony with their virtual hammers? Yeah, what happened to THAT? Just like most reform notions, if you lose momentum, the snowball will stop all at once, or fall completely downhill in a Sisyphean fashion. Lord knows the actual CURRENT state of the Ugandan public.

Perhaps it's the case that as preserved as these words are, they're just as futile. Whose to say my words won't fade to obscurity just like all the rest has? If so, I'll persist with the thought of this being my fifteen minutes of fame.

                                                    CONSISTENCY


(Before I begin, I'd like to dedicate these words -yes, ALL of them - to euphoric_mania, the one who managed to get me out of this rut of inconsistency.)


Oh, hey there, blogosphere. Miss me? I sure missed you. A swift kick of irony to the gonads came in the form of my realization that the last rant I had was about my 2-month hiatus...and here I am again...back from ANOTHER 2-month hiatus. And that's the topic of the night - consistency; the ability to continually pursue a goal or idea. I'll be the first to admit that my consistency has been beaten to a pulp worse than Rihanna was by Chris Brown *studio gasp, then studio applause and laughter* (excuse me for namedropping, just trying to drive home a point). Basically, my flimflammery and inconsistent short bursts of passion have been my downfall in the past two months and currently in the present. Let's break it down in the form of a list, so the folks at home can digest this slowly *audience snickers* :

INCONSISTENCY LIST:


1. BLOGGING
2. EMPLOYMENT
3. RELIGION
4. ROMANCE 
5. FAMILIAL ROLES


See? Wasn't that comprehensive, informative, and altogether a lot easier to take in all at once? *studio murmurs* Settle down, settle down. Let's get into these topics with a bit more detail, shall we? Now for my serious voice that you can easily denote by the italics. So, List Item #1: Blogging. Well, if you didn't read the first paragraph by now, I suggest you do so. *throws cue card aside, disdainfully* Item # 2: Employment. OOH, here's a sticky one. So as it turns out, being a 19 year-old male in New York City during the summertime means you have a very slim chance of procuring a job of your own. Maybe I'm just the outlier in this situation, but nonetheless, I've reaped no rewards of employment from the seeds that I've sown so far. Guess why that is? *audience yells out "Why's that, Jay?" in unison* BECAUSE OF MY LACK OF CONSISTENCY. See? I managed to bring the topic full circle. My indifference and downright lack of effort to find a job have all but prevented me from securing one by now. But fret not, I've recently given myself a very stern talking to, and it's all still a work in progress. Fingers crossed on that one.


Item #3: Religion. Sticky, sticky, sticky sitch we've got going on here, ladies and germs. I won't get into this one completely, as I do intend to use it as a later jump-off point for a future late-night, oxygen-intoxicated rant, but what I can say is that I've been inconsistent about my faith, but I'm slowly on a road to recovery. Item #4: Romance. *audience "OOOOOOH" 's*  Admittedly, this is where I often fall short and flop like a trout. I, a man who I believe is one of much romantic passion and fervor, am inconsistent to my pursuits because I overanalyze, look for flaws, or outright just catch cold feet (mostly the latter). And for once in my life, I think the availability of options has led to  my analysis paralysis. There are actually females (yes, plural) who might be able to fit the mold of someone with whom I could share a special bond. And to be impartial, I feel like I might be sending a few of them the wrong messages with some of my gestures and my natural knack for speaking kindly. 
As of the very moment I am typing this finally-consistent smattering of words via my stream of consciousness, if you were to ask me who I wish my heart belonged to, only one face comes to mind.
The very same face I hope to pursue when the Fall Quarter commences. Sometimes I hate that I have this overdependency with love; I don't want it to define me, but I haven't gotten sleep in days because I lay awake and imagine these grandiose romantic situations, and they only end up making me want romance more. I suppose the smart thing to do is let time and "fate" sort it out (note my use quotation marks). 


And lastly, we have Item #5: Familial Roles. As insufferable as the Procreator is, and is bitter as it is to have these words escape my virtual mouth, I am also to blame for my current standing as a son. I've made promises to try to work WITH her, rather than against her, and *chokes back words* as hard it is to admit, even though she has been inconsistent with holding up the end of her bargain, that doesn't give me an excuse to do the same. I know things will never be ideal between us, but that doesn't mean things can't be a little more TOLERABLE, right? RIGHT? Ugh. I'll sleep on that one.
And in lieu of this newfound drive to be consistent, I hope to inform you folks in a more consist manner. But for now, I have some Z's to collect.

                                                        HIATUS:


   Oh, that's right... I HAVE A BLOG. I suppose shirking my responsibilities is understandable to a certain extent, but in this day and age, a 2 month hiatus is almost unimaginable. I could take this time to voice the fact that I have a plethora of words to depict each and every passing day that I have failed to vibrantly smatter words in a loosely-defined "concise", "cohesive" manner, but I suppose I'll be "brief" enough to the point where I only mention the "noteworthy" (do you see a pattern here?) ongoings of my current life situation. Aside from the immediate fact that I'm back in the City of Bears and Bricks, nothing dazzling has currently gone down. All the staples of my social circle are back in my life and I am infinitely grateful, although a few are going through some character arcs that either interest me or raise my eyebrow strongly. There are others who I legitimately have absolutely no problem with them staying exactly the way they are.
     A few new characters have worked their ways into my life, and it is easily for the better. My Indie scene circle has vastly expanded since befriending Emilia. She has SUCH wonderful friends, amongst the female portion of whom are all incredibly gorgeous and personable. I was just recently back in the city to see The Static Jacks for the TENTH TIME live, opening for The Wombats. Needless to say, (<-- odd cliche that I will obviously disregard and voice anyway)  my face melted in a multitude of ways and I was able to quickly bond with Emilia's posse, all of whom I thoroughly enjoy for an extended list of reasons. Academically, I'm doing well. Not exceptional. Well. I suppose my determination has diluted into a mere state of coasting. I fear that this may become a habit, to which I say, I will rectify immediately. Socially, my circle is still ever-expanding. I'm at the point where in a room of 20 people, I will know of 13 people directly, 5 indirectly, and have the remaining 2 factored in as strangers. My Psych and Communications classes have rekindled my suppressed spark to test the social fabric of my surroundings and peers. Fret not, for I have bought a tally counter and primary sample runs are in progress (I'll get more into this at a later point). Romantically, my crosshairs have realigned quite a bit. I gave up a recent pursuit due to numerous complications and general bad timing and indecisiveness, which, ironically, I've quickly grown okay with the idea of. My trigger-happy fingers are studying a potential target as of the moment who just recently burst into the scene of my life. I have no gripes as of yet, but these remain inconclusive for the time being. All in all, and perhaps most pressingly, I've been fixated on the idea of dedicating my entire summer to nightlife recreation for a change, as I can legitimately say that I have not had a SINGLE summer that I can truly say I enjoyed...which I find awfully depressing. I mean, I DESERVE to have fun, right? I'm in the prime of my youth and I'll spend my daytime hours working a minimum wage job. A worthy trade-off, I would say. I haven't fully wrapped my head around the idea of being under the subjugation that ensues whilst living under the Procreator's roof, but for now, I'll blissfully, ignorantly turn a blind eye to that. More developments are surely to come. Godspeed, Summer. Get here soon.

                                                SIBLINGS:                   


         We live in a world where it's more likely to be hit by lightning, than be an only child. In fact, if you're reading this, there's a 85% chance you have either a brother, sister, or both. We can attribute this to "golden standards" perpetuating a family of four -a mother, a father, an older son, and his younger sister. That, and well, to put simply, we live in an age of heightened libido, ere go, more children being born, especially within the same family. And although the initial childhood may prove challenging with the ongoing bickering and sibling rivalries, there is a point where they come to mature and realize that those kinds of actions are best left behind, as they are a very important part of their immediate family.
         I am currently living through such a transition. In our childhood years, the Procreator pitted us all against each other, and thus, my brother, sister, and I have constantly lived in a state of hostility towards each other. In recent years, we've all come to terms with the fact that it is individually none of our faults for all of those years wasted. We are now all on generally very amiable terms, and I speak fondly with my sister, who confides in me a lot, which is rather refreshing. I even turned a new page with my brother, today. Ever since he swore off ties with the Procreator, he's showed that he's cared about my sister and I by supporting us from afar. I had a moving heart-to-heart phone conversation with him, today. We even both said "I love you" to each other. That's honestly a first. I just wish that things were this way earlier. No complaints, though. I'm just glad that they are a reality now.

                                                             AWARENESS:                            


    Unless for some reason you've spent the entirety of your day sleeping under a rock, I'm sure you've heard of "Kony 2012" at least once, today. " But what exactly IS Kony 2012, anyway?" you ask. Excellent question. And I'm dedicating this entry on spreading the awareness of this impending issue, as it was easily the biggest unveiling of my day. Kony 2012 is a recent, worldwide campaign to raise awareness for the arrest of Joseph Kony, the leader of the Ugandan Lord's Resistance Army (LRA), in which he forces native children to either become rebel children soldiers who kill their parents and civilians, or prostitutes. As of yet, Kony has brought up his own personal death toll to over 30,000. Kony has been listed as the world's foremost dangerous leader, as he has a  Hitler/Stalin-like following, and remains unopposed in terms of power in Uganda. And the number of violent deaths on his part has made him the premier target for eradication, concerning peacemakers worldwide.
      But there is a way to help. The first is to get informed. I strongly urge you (the reader) to look up "Kony 2012" on YouTube, and watch the very first result video. Yes, it is a half-an-hour long video, but it is both informative, heartbreaking, and utterly gripping. In our current state of the world, technology has allowed for us to make an actual difference. Social media has been spreading the word on a global scale, today especially. I feel it's important to keep up-to-date with the progress of this particular movement. Unlike previous campaigns to overthrow a powerful dictator, Kony 2012 is a legitimate, methodical, well thought-out example of preserving humanity. And unlike other "bandwagon campaigns," this one has made sure that it will be able to maintain a steady buzz by having city-specific awareness days all throughout the world, and a Global Awareness Day on April 20, 2012, when campaigners will cover every visible inch of their respective cities with "Stop Kony" posters at precisely midnight, for the rest of the world to see. Also, there are Action Kits that go on retail for $25 that come with Kony 2012 bracelets, awareness posters, and more. If you are serious about making a change that can preserve the future of the Ugandan people, I urge you to sign the petition to give a small, charitable monthly amount to help aid this cause. Thank you for your time.

                                                              FAITH:                             


      Today has been filled with quite a few questions of faith for me. Well for one, I should mention that I am a Christian. And a rather unorthodox one, at that. Due to a religious fallout at the age of 15, I've lost significant touch with my religious duties. Admittedly, the only times where I feel like I'm even partaking in something religious is when I pray before I eat a meal. A large part of the issue is my pride. I should backtrack a little; when I was 15, the Procreator stopped taking us (my brother, sister, and I) to Church on Sundays. I know this may come off as sacrilegious , but we were all okay with the thought of not having to wake up early to get all fancied up on a Sunday morning. We were young and naive at the time. I daren't ask the Procreator to go by myself, because she would lash out at me by saying that it would make HER look bad if her kids were there at Church, but she wasn't.
      This doesn't quite explain how my pride got in the way, however. Several months later, she had another one of her "revelations"- duly air quoted because every word and action she spouted was a complete and utter lie. We all saw through her facade. She would go on hypocritically preaching that the "disrespect" she receives (basically, any time we don't immediately give her what she wants) contradicts a Commandment. It doesn't, by the way. "Honor thy father." Not a mere mention of the mother. And subsequently, she tried to "renew" OUR (as a family) religious strength by urging us to go with her, but it was a ploy. She made her decision based on the majority agreement between the three, and seeing how we all didn't want to give in just to make her feel satisfied like she did something to strengthen our religious bonds, we continually answered no. And thus begun my downward spiral of faith. As mentioned before, the only religious thing I do nowadays is pray before meals, and my pride makes me do that in a hurried, secretive fashion, as to not have her see me and claim that I of all people was the hypocrite, since I can pay respects to my Lord (who deserves it) and not her (who obviously doesn't.) It's not like I deliberately want to be a man of bad faith. Poor practice has made it so. I've just been waiting for the right time to get back into my faith at a time that does not conflict with my pride. Selfish and foolish, I know. But I hope I'll be forgiven for my lack of diligence. Amen to that.

                                                  ETYMOLOGY:                      


     Etymology: the study of the composition of words. The mere mention of the word brings a smile to my face. It's such a brilliant thing, etymology. It is ingrained into the roots of my love for words. You see, as etymology is the study of the origins or original sources of words, it takes well-versed minds to decipher such origins. One must have a thorough understanding of both prefixes and suffixes in order to break the word apart. Sufficient training in Latin is also a secondary requirement for etymologists, as a vast majority of the words in the English language have Latin origins. While musing upon the idea of etymology today, a thought occurred to me: "Words didn't just appear from thin air. People must have created base words, expanded upon them and kept adding to the ever-expanding list." This made me wonder - what WERE the first words in existence? To whom do we owe the pleasure of these original words? And most interestingly, whose to say that I myself can't come up with my own additions to the English Language?
   Today, I spent quite some time doing just that : compiling a lexicon of illegitimate words that I created myself. An "Illexicon," if you will. As of now, Volume One of my Illexicon is complete, although the list is subject to many more additions. I conjured up a list of ideas, scenarios, feelings, actions, and subjects that did not necessarily have their own respective word allotted for them in the English Dictionary. Those words are the basis of my Illexicon. Here are a couple of examples:


Humdagger: (n) One who voluntarily spreads lies. (v) Humdagger --> (n) Humdaggery
Sheshel: (v) To formally gather in secrecy. (gerund) Sheshelling, (n) Shesheller
Mediocrates : (n) One who strives for mediocracy in life, (adj) Mediocratesean
Curwey: (v)  To conceal something before another is able to see it. (gerund) Curweying, (n) Curweyist

I thoroughly enjoy the idea of creating your own Illexicon. In fact, I encourage you (the reader) to compose your own Illexicon, granted you have a fond predilection with words. My goal is to have at least one word from my Illexicon become household, and even featured in an updated version of Merriam-Webster. It would be wondrous if I were to have left an etymological print on the world before I died.

                                                     STRANGERS:                        


     I only detest that this word was coined the way it was. Whose to say a stranger is really strange? Whose to say that someone familiar to you doesn't have the ability to be stranger (heh, look at how words have multiple meanings) than a stranger? I have come to the conclusion that this term is offensive, a large percentage of the time. A vast majority of strangers are just normal people leading normal lives. And y'see, everything is subjective in its own scope- I can be a perfectly normal human being with no out-of-the-ordinary traits, but if we have not yet familiarized ourselves yet, to you, I am just a stranger. There are admittedly a few big red flags that can determine whether or not the term "stranger" is an apt label; if the person: wears a fanny pack, smells like a rotting corpse, is naked, walks around barefoot, screams at small children, masturbates/pees in public, and/or humps inanimate objects, you have ALL the right to deem them a "stranger."
      And for the record, certain rules that you're told when you're younger are in dire need of revision. I'm sure we've all heard of the completely cliched parental rule of "don't talk to strangers." Honestly, nothing could be more preposterous in application in real life. If we were all undyingly obedient, the whole world would be unable to interact, and we'd be reduced to a species of hermits and closet-dwellers. I would have been a social outcast (or even moreso, I should say). I would never be able to find love in the world because I could never communicate my feelings to a person because they are a stranger to me. Job interviews? Forget 'em. Wouldn't be able to chat up the man behind the desk simply because I've never met him before. A new baby brother, you say? Guess he won't be having an older brother to look up to, because he's a total stranger to me. See what I'm talking about? You would get nowhere in the world if you actually adhered to this omni-flawed rule of thumb. How about we amend that rule to "Don't talk to suspicious men in windowless vans who offer you candy"? Would've saved me some childhood scars. Just kidding...mostly.

                                                      NOSTRADAMUS:         


      Nostradamus, you silly bird. What gives your Doomsday Theory any more veracity than the impending threat of Y2K? And what on earth prompted you to come to such a conclusion? Nevertheless, the widespread rumors of "Nostradamus Day" or simply "2012" have reached a global scale. But whose to say this iteration of the death of mankind is legitimate? I digress. I should say, however, that this premise has become the main premise of a new series that I concocted. Y'see, I tend to make up a lot of shows in head, primarily American Animes, but for once, I wanted to delve into field of scripted television. This led to my creation of a series I like to call The Remainders. It's an action/mystery/survival show, somewhat in the vain of Lost, except the storyline isn't riddled with mind-numbing complications.
      The show spans a total of four seasons, each season containing 10 episodes, and each episode being an hour long, for a total of 40 hours of airtime. The first three seasons follow a different pair of protagonists in a different setting of the world, where they have both come to the conclusion that they are the sole survivors of the world. Season 1 is set in New York, Season 2 in Paris, and Season 3 in South Africa. The plot begins on January 1, 2013 (each episode will indicate the date, and each season will repeat the same dates with different characters and scenarios up until Season 4, where everyone is up to the same point in time), a few days after Nostradamus' prediction came true. Season 1 follows the survival story of Pierce Chenrey, a 24 year old former CIA Agent and Brenda Haplon, a 24 year old accountant who has little faith in men, due to all her past relationships. The two have to outlive the throes of a "Postradamus" New York, where they are sole human survivors, and few animals are left alive. They manage to befriend one - a lovable dog named Heston, who becomes their one source of happiness in this dull, abandoned world. While traversing through a forest that was primarily unscathed by the cataclysm (thus is still home to many animals), Heston is bitten a poisonous snake and dies, right before they find an abandoned airplane. During the season finale, they decide to use Pierce's piloting knowledge to go to the place where a mysterious transmission was sent, urging them to join "The Remainders' Convention."
    Season 2 follows the survival story of Rory Nebeaux and Matilda D'noir, a pair of Parisians who believe fate and love have brought them together in a world where only they (believe they) exist. They quickly fall madly in love, and decide that it is up to them to find some way to repopulate the world. Eight months into Matilda's pregnancy, they find a strange computer that was also sent a transmission informing them to come to the mysterious "Remainders' Convention." Season 3 follows the story of an American doctor, 42 year-old Jack Pinsley, who now lives in South Africa, and a young, light-skinned boy, Lutir, age 17. After much traversing, they meet a third survivor with whom they immediately distrust, Olayinka, a female tribeswoman who is incidentally Lutir's age. After many bouts with the remaining wildlife, Pinsley gets an unknown email on his laptop telling him to gather his group of survivors, and head to Italy for "The Remainders' Convention." Season 4 is set in Italy, where all the protagonists of the first three seasons meet up and interact for the first time. They are greeted by "The Oligarchy," a group of three Italian survivors, Dante, Vicente, and Lucia, all who sent out the transmissions for The Remainders' Convention. It is later revealed that the Convention is a ploy to have the other survivors killed off and allow The Oligarchy to repopulate the world and share the crown of world domination. Blood is shed and a few protagonists die along the way, but the original pair play a big part in the resolution of the plot, which I will not spoil.
     To say the least, I can say I found some inspiration from Nostradamus's ridiculous "prediction." Perhaps I'm not giving him due credit. For all I know, the world COULD on December 21, 2012, seeing how that's Snooki's due date. Food for thought.

                                                      INTERACTIONS:                      

    Interactions occur between humans on a daily basis. Some are pleasant, some are disappointing, and some are just downright sad. No matter the case, we as a species crave social interaction for the mere fact that we enjoy a sense of companionship and confidence. This is, of course, stems from the assumption that you do indeed have people to associate yourself with (I've met a few hermits in my days). Simple interactions could include a quaint conversation with a decent stranger, rowdy afternoons and/or nights with your best buddies, or that inherently awkward eye contact that you make when you pass your ex. Like I said before, interactions ARE varied. It's rather important that one finds social interaction on a daily basis, lest one is to regress into a being of pure solitude, who actually finds a sick sense of contention by being perfectly alone.
      I can't say I identify with this lone wolf figure, but in all honesty, I've been slowly coming down with Hermit Syndrome. In the past week alone, the person I've interacted with most (dare I say it) would be my own Procreator, albeit at no fault of my own, as she enjoys any and all opportunities to inject a healthy dose of herself into each and every day. Other than that, I can honestly say I only remember interacting with cashiers at respective stores and restaurants that I've gone to please this darn woman with "sustenance" (and by that, I mean junk food). This worries me. Even now, as I type these very words in this dimly lit, ungodly, unforsaken room, I feel the symptoms of the Hermit Syndrome setting in. I must curtail and nip this problem in the bud as soon as humanly possible. The last thing I want to look like is a broken soul who no longer needs and/or believes in shaving, and whose best friend is his dimly lit bulb. I refuse to become that. Luckily, tomorrow seems to be JUST the fix I needed. I'm rounding up the boys and heading to the city for a day of aimless exploration, which is precisely what the doctor ordered. I just pray that I won't have to postpone this occasion like previous get-togethers. I NEED THIS. I can't revert. I can't become a man who fears sunlight. I can't become Edward Cullen.

                                                         ASPIRATIONS:                                  


         I can't help but feel like aspirations aren't nearly what they used to be. In a generation where so many fields of expertise are available, I can't help but notice somewhat of a regression. I tend to see a resounding majority falling for the same professions: either rapper, actor, or professional athlete (and the like). The world is in desperate need of new aspirations. I have FAR too many friends who send me their rap videos, all hoping for the same success. I mean no disrespect to what they hope to accomplish, but I feel that there are many various fields of work that are impoverished and starving for the same number of aspiring rappers that there are  in the world. What the world needs is more hands-on innovators, like architects, physicists, and biochemists. Those are the impractical fields that the world would likely be in a better shape in, had they been as populous as the more common aspirations.I must admit that I, too, have recently become somewhat of a statistic. For the longest time now, I've wanted nothing more to become a Game Designer, yet in recent years, the fledgling game industry has skyrocketed, and the position is now considerably mainstream.
     It's odd, though. A child's aspiration never tends to stay the same over the course of his or her life. Their mind is constantly wavering to make a match with something of interest that aligns perfectly with their strengths and passions. Yet, it tends to be the case that once you have reached the solid age of 20, little variation is likely to happen afterwards. I honestly wonder why. I attribute it to a sense of comfort that one finds in familiarity- the daily ins and outs of the workforce that become so routine that one gets a mental sense of "muscle memory" for what they're doing. Had it been otherwise, I would venture to say that young adults would dare to be more ambitious, and cast aside their current occupations of menial tasks like secretary, or cashier (unless of course that is originally what you aspired for). My undying belief in mankind is also coupled with my undying belief that the world constantly needs progress. And personally, it's hard to find that the case when an overwhelming majority finds solace in the same area of work. More people need to branch out. Perhaps I should be the first to take my own advice and look into other promising fields...no guarantees, however...
   

                                                    HOLIDAYS:                           


      Holidays. The cause for a celebration. Usually in commemoration of some past feat or monumental event. Just recently, we celebrated President's Day, a day to silently muse about the past endeavors of our previous fathers of the nation, as well as get amazing deals at P.C. Richard and Son's and Sleepy's. Some holidays have become criminally overrated and overcommercialized  *cough* Valentinesmas *cough*. Other holidays fly COMPLETELY under the radar, and/or never even get the recognition they deserve. The one that upsets me the most is Arbor Day. Arbor Day has a legitimate reason, one that helps preserve our current environment and sees that the future's is somewhat better. I love the premise of it. I'm not some uber green thumb when it comes to "saving the planet," but I think as a wasteful, pollutant, slovenly American, celebrating Arbor Day is THE LEAST I can do to make it up to the world. And to my dismay, it is perhaps one of the most remote holidays of them all. Seriously, I'm starting to believe that only Nebraskans celebrate it, and that's chiefly due to the fact that they created it. I spent the day asking locals in my area if they knew when Arbor Day was celebrated, and not once did I find someone who actually knew (The correct answer, by the way, is always the last Friday of April, but can vary from state to state). This was disconcerting news to me. Surely, there was some way to get the word out about this celebration of our oxygen source.
     That's where my recent thoughts come into play. While discussing the lack of Arbor Day Awareness with Matilda, I had a slight revelation: If and when my Indie band were to form, start a decent following, and have a respectable line-up of songs, I know some key characters who might allow me to spread some awareness. I'm fortunate enough to say that I've made some connections with a few influential folk in the New York Indie scene, who could possibly help me get the word out. What I had in mind (and I know this quite a stretch) was to hold an Arbor Day Bash at Bryant Park, in which my hopefully-awesome-by-then band would hold an exclusive show for those who helped plant trees. The planting would start at noon and end at 4:00 P.M., and to get a ticket, you must clock at least 2 hours of arbor labor. From 4:00-5:00, the stage will be set up, and we'll do a 2 hour gig from 5:00 - 7:00, opened by some local Indie acts, and crowd favorites like The Static Jacks and Ritz Riot. And all of those who participated are welcome to join the aftershow party behind the stage and shmooze with the artists and fellow Indie fans and green thumbs. And this would be the beginning of an annual tradition that would be curated and headlined by my band, which would great for the planet and the fans. Maybe then, Arbor Day would get the recognition it deserves as an important holiday. Until then, I should REALLY work on forming a band. And mastering this bass, first. (Yikes!)

                                                                    LIBEL:                                  


    Libel. The written counterpart of slander. The source of badmouthed publishing and mudslinging against things that tend not to deserve a bad reputation. That was the case today. I should preface this rant by saying that I am a very loyal fanboy of the Kingdom Hearts series, and have followed it from the very beginning, so I bear a certain bias. Today, a questionably-"respected" online game review website, IGN.com, opened fire about the the series  having a a terrible storyline. They warranted immediate "flame" reactions from us loyal fanboys by coaxing us with a picture of the main characters of the series, with the word "SUCKS" smattered diagonally. Blatant disrespect. As repulsed as I was to see such apparent disregard for the all the series has to offer, I figured the educated thing to do was to continue to read the subsequent article BEFORE posting any negative comments. And I must say, the article was pure and absolute cockamamiery. The author listed an inconsequential series of incoherent complaints that were both illegitimate claims and outright hatred.
    This hatred was unjustified, of course. The series is admittedly complex, but is rather digestible if one puts forth the initial effort to try to understand the plot. Word around the rumour mill is that the hateful post was in response to IGN no longer receiving profit from Square Enix, the company behind Kingdom Hearts. According to rumors, a rogue group from the Marketing Staff paid the writers at IGN to consistently give positive reviews for entries in the series up until only recently. Tetsuya Nomura, the head honcho behind the franchise, later found out about the Marketing-IGN cahoots, and fired the group and hired a new one, stating that "the public should state their opinions on our games truthfully and perfectly honestly." Concerning the actual plot of the game, a fellow fan said it the best:

"Anything explained in its entirety will sound downright ridiculous:

Harry Potter is about a boy who discovers he's a wizard and goes onto a quest to kill a snake-man that tried to kill him as a baby but failed due to his mother's love.

LOTR is a story about a bunch of different raced beings off to destroy a ring that grants power to its wearer and trying not to be seen by a giant eye in a tower-thing.

Anyway, if you wanted to critique Kingdom Hearts, by all means, go ahead. But don't go and say: The story sucks. It just makes you seem like a hater and will pretty much provoke a bunch of fans eager to defend one of their favorite games with just as much eloquence as you presented in this article."

Well said. Well said.

                                                                 SHOWERS:                                      


      My saga of unusual daily topics continues! I admittedly was grasping at straws to find a decent, worthy topic to rant about tonight, given the circumstances that I've done literally NOTHING of consequence today. You know it's an off-day if someone as mentally verbose as I am is at a shortage of words. I fear my current setting is turning me into a shameless hermit who fears ultraviolet rays. I won't let it come to this. I CRAVE the City of Bears and Bricks. My mental calendar is ever-so-patiently X-ing off each passing day. In any event, while in pacing back and forth in shower (yes, I am aware that I am an unusual child, shush) I tried my best to come up with a feasible topic to discuss. I immediately drew blanks. But, then WHAM! It hit me, I was STANDING in my topic. Showers are legitimately the best remedy for anything non-terminal. I mean that, wholeheartedly. There hasn't been a single ailment that hasn't been lessened or completely cured by taking a nice, hot shower.
     First and foremost, I enjoy that showers are more sanitary than baths. You don't sit in your very own cesspool of germs that have no escape until you drain the tub. Not to mention, there's just something strangely therapeutic about scalding hot water. The way it just conforms to the contours of your body when you put the showerhead directly over your head for what I call "The Waterfall Effect." It somehow eases your mind in such a fashion that your brain can't even remember that your body is in pain. I should know. On the darkest day of my existence (can't get too much into it), my body writhed in pain for every second I tried to move a muscle. To this day, I have never experienced such agonizing pain. With all the remaining stamina I could muster, I forced myself into the shower, and I let then hot water run over my body for half an hour. And oddly enough, for those 30 minutes, I forgot about my miserable pain, and I let my mind drift to more enjoyable thoughts. I owe a lot to showers, honestly. You keep me sane, you keep me cleanly, and you delay the pain (unintentional rhyme scheme). If there were some way I could possibly repay you, showers, let me know. I am forever indebted.

                                                                     SMOKING :                                          


       Yes, I realize that this is yet another uncouth, unusual topic, but it's one that's been on my mind (and in my lungs) for quite literally the entire duration of the day. First and foremost, I must provide my stance on smoking - I think it's one of the worst self-afflictions you could bring upon yourself. Honestly, why burn both holes in your lungs AND your wallets? If you want something to help relieve stress, why not try something productive that can also double as a stress-reliever, like yoga? And if you smoke because you use the argument "I like the smell," buy yourself some darn incense, okay? At least they won't harm you and those around you by inhaling the fumes. It sucks being in the smoking capital of central civilization. Your lungs take a pounding on the daily, whether or not it is your choice, and that's what I hate the most. I understand the argument that they chose to buy a product and they should have the right to exercise the utilization of a product they bought at a time of their own convenience, but it should NOT come at the expense of others' health. If you want to exercise that right, you should do it in a private setting with others who willingly agree to breathe the smoke in (i.e. others that you associate with who also partake in smoking) this way, the non-smokers don't have to unwillingly have their health marred. What really does it for me is the inherent audacity of some smokers -I apologize to a good population, this rant seems very biased and  ad hominem, but this is meant to be in response to the kinds of smokers who literally have zero regard for those around them - some will dare to give you an offended look if you pass by them and try to hold your nose, or swat the smoke away. Umm, HELLO?!?! When did I agree to have my health endangered by your decision? I never ONCE consented to that notion, so I will gladly swat to my heart's content.
       This in mind, today was a bit of a challenge for me. My rowdy, smoker relatives from my Procreator's side visited, and the ceiling clouds are still tangible. My mouth tastes like the inside of a chimney. Or like I licked freshly-paved asphalt. Or someone backed up a tanker of tar to my mouth, inserted a nozzle, and forced me to drink. Bleh. I've brushed my teeth and gargled four times in the past two hours, alone. It's hard to make small talk with relatives you hardly even know, especially when you can barely utter two syllables without contracting The Black Lung. There's about as much haze in this place as a Louisiana swamp. But this is nothing in comparison to a few weeks back at Personality Crisis (an Indie gig at Shea Stadium Brooklyn). The gig went on from 10:00 PM - 4:00 AM. I left at promptly 11:35 PM, preempting a swift, onset asthma attack. Every article of clothing I had on that day smelled like I had been in a seedy Russian tavern during the 1960's. All the Mentos in the world couldn't rid my mouth of that disgusting tar-like aftertaste. I swore off gigs like that, for the sake of my health. I'm more suited for Bowery Ballroom, Music Hall of Williamsburg, or even Webster Hall. Let's just hope my lungs thank me for being smart. In the meantime, I'm going to ingest a Swiffer Duster in the hopes that it'll clean all of my internal organs during the digestion process. Wishful thinking, to say the least.


 

                                                           TRAVELING:                           


   Sights. There are so many of them to see. From the Statue of Liberty in New York to The Eiffel Tower in Paris. The world is chock full o' different landmarks, people, lifestyles, and languages. Although this is the case, I can't help but feel that I have a dreadfully limited view of the world. There's an Italian phrase that sums it up pretty well: "Tutto ciò che visto è ne so." This basically translates to "All I've seen is all I know." It does my eighteen years of existence a lot of justice. Quite frankly, I am far from the travel-savvy type. Heck, I've only ever been to FIVE of the fifty states in America: New York (obviously), New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Florida, and Maryland, in that order. Even then, I can barely count 3 of those listed 5, as I was only there for a mere matter of days and I don't feel I've quite earned the right to proudly say "Yup, been there. Seen it. Loved it."
My woefully non-existent sense of cosmopolitanism is quite unsettling. I want to get out and not just see the world, but EXPERIENCE it.
     For starters, I should mention that I have a bit of a bucket list for places I would desperately like to travel to, which are all in accordance to my many ethnic backgrounds. Y'see, I'm what they call a "mutt," so in order to visit all of the places that correspond with my backgrounds, I would have to travel to Ponce (Puerto Rico), Venice (Italy), Nice (France), and Kyoto (Japan). Yes, I am fully aware that I am an odd mix, although I appear to be nothing more than a slovenly, Americanized Italian teenage boy. It's also pretty awkward that I have all of these wondrous heritages tied to my bloodline, yet I can literally ONLY speak English. My Spanish and Italian are terrible, as the Procreator never found it necessary to keep traditions alive. I crave exposure. My horizons are in desperate need of broadening. For once, I'd like to be able to live out an adventure like Eat, Pray, Love, y'know, just minus the Oprah's Bestseller stamp and nix the Julia Roberts. There are so many walks of life and ways of thinking that I have yet to encounter. I just need to really get out there and breathe it all in. But I assure you, for the meantime, I'll start with the baby steps. I'll experiment with the City of Bears and Bricks. On my campus alone, there are quite literally DOZENS of locations that I have yet to thoroughly appreciate. My complacency stems from the droll, routine ways of my daily life. Time to switch it up a bit. Who knows? Maybe I'll run up my Frequent Walker Miles.

                                                       BIRTHDAYS:                             


    We all have them. That annual celebration of our initial escape from a nine month captivity in the womb. As children, we celebrate this anniversary with a party that involves all of our childhood friends that soon fade to obscurity, cake, clowns, and Pin the Tail on the Donkey. But as we grow older, the same jubilant spark of yesteryear begins to fade. Why is that? Why do we conform to a fashion of slumming it? Or is it just me that has lost the initial happiness that birthdays once brought ? An optimist would argue that a birthday is an annual rite of passage that marks another glorious year of life ahead of us. A pessimist would argue that it simply brings us one year closer to death. I find myself as the middleman between the two. I wonder when this complacency first started. With my overflowing lexicon of words, I can easily pull a wondrous, genuine, heartfelt birthday message out of thin air for virtually anyone, even a person whom I rarely interact with. But why can't I ever find the right words to tell myself on my birthday?
     Today is my best friend and former-and-soon-again-to-be roommate, Derin's, nineteenth birthday. I gave him the ceremonial message via Facebook, and even bothered to call. He seemed very happy to know that I care for his friendship as much as I do on this very day when he was delivered into the world precisely nineteen years ago. This got me thinking, however: "What will I feel on my nineteenth birthday?" Mine is quite practically three months away. I had assured myself that I would likely look AND feel just about the same as when I was eighteen. And personally, I don't look forward to being nineteen. AT ALL. My friend, Matilda, and I were chatting about the concept of being nineteen a few weeks back as it was her Nineteenth birthday in Mid-January. We both agreed that it kinda sucks. For us, at least. At nineteen, the societal expectations REALLY start to bear down on you with the utmost scrutiny.Parents are typically inclined to want to kick you out of the house for good and cut you off, as a test to see if you can make it "out there." People expect you to be making those initial steps into adulthood and have a very detailed plan of attack for the up-and-coming entrance to the real world. Quite frankly, it scares me. I question whether or not I am ready. Deep down, I know I have the abilities to make it on my own, but being thrust into a fleeting, hustling, bustling world where seemingly no one has pity to offer for you ...frightens me. Matilda also brought up the very good point that it is the very last year to enjoy being a teenager. I cringe at the thought of me losing my youth so quickly. Not to mention, Matilda and I are complete straight edges. We don't drink, smoke, party like crazy, have sex, or anything of the sort. The most we do is go to an Indie gig at some seedy lounge in Brooklyn. Good times, though. And now I have to resort to being boring on my own because she went back upstate to Utica not too long ago. She tells me that literally nothing has changed from when she was a year younger. I expect this to be true of my case, as well. Groan. Guess I'll just blow the candles out the candles out on this subject for now (wait for inevitable ellipsis) ...

                                                           HIKES:                             


    The following words are a bit different than that of my usual rants. Tonight's words will appear a bit more anecdotal. As clearly indicated by the highlighted and underlined word, tonight I'm prepared to discuss the vastly unusual topic of hikes. Odd, yes, but please, bear with me. During my third venture to fetch the Procreator more sugar that she doesn't need - she always uses the word "need," although any being with intelligence can tell it's a want - my mental cauldron began to bubble with words. Mind you, the woman is 42, diabetic, obese, and yet she insists that I go out (YET AGAIN) with a pocketful of change that she managed to gather from the remains of a 7-year old piggy bank, to get here MORE CANDY. At 10:30 P.M. WHEN PRACTICALLY EVERY STORE IS CLOSED DUE TO THEIR USUAL STORE HOURS. Despite the initial swaying of my words, this is merely the backdrop to what I actually want to say. When I finally get to the corner store and pull out my 75 cents to pay for the darn Snickers, the clerk tells me that all chocolate bars are now 85 cents. I give him a brief look of disbelief. I sigh to myself, pull out another dime and slap it on the counter, grab the Snickers, and proceed to make my route back home with an unsatisfied expression on my countenance.
    As I walked, I mused at the thought of the ephemeral life of that dime inside my pocket. It was then that I had been met with a twinge of annoyance. Who authorizes the price increase for a darn Snickers? I know it sounds like nothing, but anyone who understands The Butterfly Effect should come to realize this: that measly 10 cent price increase leads to an eventual additional millions of dollars to The Mars Corporation (C) and corner stores citywide. It's like fair hikes with the MTA (Metropolitan Transit Authority for those of you who were wondering; essentially New York City's subway system administrators). I was outraged when the price of a single fare was raised from $2.00 to $2.25. A quarter may not sound like much of a difference, but when you have thousands upon thousands of New Yorkers making the daily commute to and from work, etc. IT ADDS UP. On a daily basis, the MTA reaps an additional $1.3 million thanks to that quarter increase. And what do they do with all that extra dough? They either stash it away for their own benefit, or use it to make "weekend renovations" that are seemingly non-existent in terms of end result, and serve to make the weekend commute even more frustrating than it needs to be with longer, alternate routes that replaced the original path.
        Furthermore, my fizzled thoughts delved into my lack of synergy with nature, as I gazed upon the brilliant night sky on my way home. Fare hikes led to to my unusual urge to go on an actual hike. Some fresh air would be rather nice. City life can be overly congested. I've never had the pleasure of actually getting to go camping in the actual wilderness, but oddly enough, I really want to. Yes, I do realize that I could potentially be sleeping on a patch of soil while under constant attack by wild insects, but it's the price to pay to reconnect with nature. I would gladly take a nature hike over a fiscal one.

                                                                   BLESSINGS:                                   


     Blessings. Some people count them. Other people fail to notice the ones they have. In any event, I'm in an unusually thankful mood today, and I will try to shy away from my usual negative slants. In fact, I will slap myself every time that I write something negative in this post. That said, I FINALLY saved up enough coin to actually visit Luis, my bass instructor, who lives about two hours away. We had a three hour jam session, and it was pure brilliance. I know how to play a couple of songs off the Scott Pilgrim Soundtrack, which makes me happier than two clams who successfully figured out how to kiss. Not only did I get a killer private lesson from him, but he was kind enough to give me the "All-Star Treatment" by voluntarily giving me a free amp, chord, and emulated headphone jack...ALL FOR FREE! It rarely occurs to me how blessed I am to have people in my life who confide so much in me, and see my potential and choose to reward me for it. I'm also blessed to have an instructor who is so fervently passionate about his students unlocking their full potentials. He apparently thinks I have a lot, as I picked up quite a few things in very little time, which is surprising, seeing how I literally have NO previous formal training. It reassures me to know that a vast majority of people find me to be someone of worth, which is a blessing, considering I was raised being told that I was nothing more than a worthless, unamountable-to-anything accid- *slap* I digress. As you can see, I am still trying to cope.
   But simple little instances like today are just small examples of blessings I've had in my life. Not too long ago, a major occurred back in the good ol' City of Bears and Bricks. I have been blessed to have associated myself with ALL THE RIGHT PEOPLE, especially those loving individuals (you know who you are) who "bear" through (see what I did there?) my ceaseless onslaught of daily insanity and accept me as not only a person, but a member of their collective family. Heck, Id go as far as to say that one family in particular has practically adopted me. The family of my best female friend has been more accepting and loving towards me than that of my own rancid, good-for nothing, Procreator, who legitimately caused all of - *slap* Basically, they saved my posterior from cutting my career path short. They made an investment in me. They took a chance and gambled that I was worth it. That they could spare their own living expenses to know that I was working towards a better future. I'll never be able to pay them back  -fiscally, yes -but I am forever indebted to owe them my gratitude for their overly human gesture. It's people like that who reassure me that my faith in mankind is not all in vain. And the only way to morally repay my debt is to offer the same generosity in the future when I have acquired a sustainable amount of wealth and find a glimmer of hope in that one special child that I know has all the potential to make it in the world, but has a life where obstacles are constantly thrown in his face. I know what it's like. To that end, I will say that I have justly repaid my debt. It just boils my blood that the good ones who try their hardest in life to stay positive have to be constantly thwarted by the ne'er-do-wells, the hypocrites, the unruly few, the -*slap* I suppose I deserved that one.

                                                              PROGRESS:                           


      I must admit, today was surprisingly mellow in terms of mental distress and maternal struggles with the Procreator. I consider that an unusual sliver of progress. And any progress is good progress, right? No fatal verbal blows exchanged, no stinging bitterness of tone, no endless back and forth power struggles. True, I can attribute this to the fact that she was cooped up in her room with a box of Entenmann's donuts and I was in various other rooms throughout the day, but still, as trivial as this may seem to read, it was hallmark in actuality. I'd like to take a second to state that just for once, I wish things between Procreator and I were actually on good things for once, seeing how I would be willing to commit some effort into making that happen, but sadly, I know of her tendencies, and she'll never relent from a position of power. What a shame that a person is so hellbent on never ceasing control that she must cling to tyranny at all stages of life.
    In Procreator-unrelated news, I also hope to make some musical progress this week, as I am an amateur bassist who has consistently rescheduled lessons with his instructor due to financial woes and weather inconveniences. Tomorrow just might be my day. I know it'll take years to master the bass, but I'm still excited to nail the essentials. Furthermore, we are progressing to a time where good television is slowly on its way. I'm looking forward to the new season of the time-bending, British epic that I have recently become a major fan of, Doctor Who. Having BBC America added to my channel lineup was revolutionary. Their shows are all so well-written, action-packed, suspenseful, and dripping with that hilarious British humor. (Sidnote: Brits have legitimately the best word bank of insults; from "wanker," to "slag," to "Dick Dastardly.") Matt Smith, the brilliant actor who portrays the eleventh iteration of The Doctor, is captivating in every sense of the word. I can not wait to see what he, Amy, and Rory get themselves into this season. And aside from Doctor Who, I'm VERY MUCH looking forward to the next iteration of the Avatar series. Avatar: The Legend of Korra was rumored to have a premiere date of November 2012, but just recently, there have been rumors that the show is slated to premiere sometime Mid-Summer! For those of you unfamiliar with the Avatar series, I strongly urge you to watch the original saga, Avatar: The Last Airbender. It's just flawless. Until then, I will just mentally compose fanfictions for both of those series. Of course I say "mentally compose" because The Good Lord knows that I was only productive enough to write a daily blog piece. That'd just be asking for TOO MUCH progress.

                                                                       YEARNING:                                     
     Show of hands, who here has yearned for something today? Hmm? Everybody? Fascinating. It appears to always be the case that we as beings are never truly content with where we are in. We demand more, we NEED more to get us through the day. This was certainly one of those days for me. Having this paper-thin cell of a room taunt me with memories of my real home made me yearn for a place where I can be myself. And so, a vast majority of the day was spent yearning for my homeland, the City of Bears and Bricks (only a select few will understand that reference). And it made me yearn for their wonderful, smiling faces, nestled in the laughter from something nonsensical I said or did. The obligatory sigh came subsequently when I realized that I was still an overwhelming amount of days from such a reunion. A swift jab to the emotions it was to come to terms with the fact that this setting would be my own for just about another two unbearable weeks.
    Luckily, my day was filled with other kinds of yearning, as well, some positive, some recreational. I dwelled on my original plan to open up a T-Shirt stand on campus that would sell awesome, Indie-inspired design shirts and would allow me to accumulate some coin on the side. I also yearned for any form of coin, as well. Let's just say a frog would have a feast if I were to open my wallet in front of it. Yeah, I'm THAT kind of broke right now. Heck, I couldn't even afford a stupid Metrocard to meet my bass instructor uptown. I also yearned for a better sense of judgment that would've slapped me silly for not having a job while I'm in the state that I am. But I suppose I'll take that one in strides. Lastly, I spent a very large portion of the day yearning to voice words that I have been consistently unable to. Not only to the Procreator, but to positive people in my life. If only there were a solvent solution for this mouth of mine that has been super-glued shut. Some people deserve to hear what's on mind - whether it be the bitter pill that we've come to know as the truth, the mercurial words that have been held back by my silver tongue, or the words of adoration I darenot utter for fear of their result. I suppose I should be yearning for some risks. I'm far too safe in my decisions. Maybe I'll cut off all of my hair, get a tattoo (or several), invest in a Harley, and ride it around while blasting every last song from Journey. Yeah, that'll do the trick... someday...

                                                               NOSTALGIA:                                     
      I can very safely assume we're all familiar with nostalgia - that sense of "Oh, yeah, I remember that! Oh, those were the good ol' days!" The question I've been wondering for the entirety of today, is why? Why are we compelled to think that the past was much better when in the present we're faced with ambivalence and tend to just get by day-to-day? What is it that compels us to yearn for the past? Is it truly the case that the past was better, or is it simply that, in hindsight, the past has a certain quality that we wish were present in the modern day? It's odd what strikes us as "nostalgic." For people who were born in the '80s, ridiculous hairstyles may be a nostalgia trigger. Every era has its set of triggers. As a '90s child, I immediately burst with nostalgic glee when I hear or see classic '90s Nickelodeon shows, hear talk of Pokemon Red and Blue, or the occasional mention of TRL (y'know, for those fragile remaining years, when MTV actually PLAYED music). But I ask myself "Was I more excited about those things then, while living IN that era, or is it because I've made memories with said things?" I'm still debating the answer in my head. I suppose it's all so subjective, in retrospect.
      The sad part, however, is that some people get nostalgic over events, which I am often unable to relate to. Just goes to show the span of my experiences. While people can hear a timeframe and think to themselves "Hey, remember when we did X activity in Y location?" I often am only able to reminisce on particular things, namely old television shows. If you name a remotely underrated show that was broadcast in the '90s, there is a very good chance I will be familiar with it. A very sad depiction of the goings-on of my childhood. "I didn't get out much" doesn't even BEGIN to describe it. It's odd, though. Trends/fads are fleeting, and are often met with mixed reviews when reminisced upon, so I wonder what will define THIS era. What are the subject matters that will initiate the "Oh, I remember _______!" 's? Like I said, it's all so subjective. Perhaps it's the case that these very words that you're reading will come to a point of obsoletion in the near future. Maybe there'll be some newer, more innovative way to vent one's thoughts in the years to come. Then we'll all be forced to look off into the obligatory distance and say "Hey, remember when blogging was relevant?" I digress...for now.

                                                            INDEPENDENCE:                               


    What a concept, "Independence." To be self-reliant. To be unburdened by outsiders. To make decisions solely on your own. Such a rudimentary concept but it honestly means a world of a difference for those who yearn for it. Heck, WARS have been fought in order to make this mere word a reality. Our nation is forever indebted to the word. Many yearn and struggle to exact the realization of this word in their own lives. That's where I come in. I am a part of this majority of strugglers and therein lies the walking irony that is my existence. Let it be known that I am a huge fan of Indie (short for Independent for those of you who are unfamiliar with the term) culture, be it Indie Rock, Indie films, or Indie games. I have come to embrace the fundamental core beliefs of the "Indie way of life," which has come to receive much scrutiny for being "in," nowadays. I can attribute this predilection to a single event - when I first heard the song "Meantime" by The Futureheads. I can firmly say that that song changed my life. I was instantly enticed by the wondrously confounding sounds occurring within my ears, along with the meaning of the song. The four men that comprised the group understood the main tenets of core Indie: the music is always the most important part of their occupation, fame is not a goal to have in mind, and that music is a medium to be more than just catchy and impressive; it can be used to tell stories and teach lessons. I was immediately smitten with their mindset, and because of them I have found some of my favorite bands. Acts such as (brace yourself for an impendingly long list of band names) The Futureheads, Franz Ferdinand, Little Comets, Young Knives, The Static Jacks, Good Shoes, We Were Promised Jetpacks, The Strokes,The Wombats, The Pigeon Detectives,  Phoenix, We Are Scientists, The Jealous Sound, JOYWAVE, Vampire Weekend, Locksley, Oceanship, Two Door Cinema Club, Plumtree, Metric, and Mona, have all internalized these core beliefs and use it to exercise their independence. This serves to explain why it has always been a side-dream of mine to start up my own Indie band.
     However, this fails to explains the irony that I embody. Here I am, a man who claims to love the Independent culture, but it's truly the case that I simply envy it. I strive for it. I as a being have been subjected to a lifetime of subordination by my Procreator. Condemned to a life where it is frowned upon for me to do anything but her command, I often lay awake at night, preparing myself mentally for a life where I could live free from her control. Even in my soon-to-be age of nineteen, I have yet to open my oppressed mouth to her. It's as if I am some sort of male variant of Ella Enchanted, forced to life a live of obedience. I deserve better than that. I deserve to embrace the lashout-like intuitiveness of my musical mentors, who have taught me so much. Yet, I remain complacent, and decide to blog about it, rather than put my money where my mouth is. Le sigh. I am more contradictory than a pack of Starbursts.

                                                      MISFORTUNE:                                    


      "Misfortune." Such an ugly word, in my opinion. My fellow word enthusiasts, Charles Merriam and Noah Webster, define it as (and this is excerpted from their actual website) "an event or conjunction of events that causes an unfortunate or distressing result : bad luck." Spot on depiction of the word, fellas, but nothing quite compares to EXPERIENCING misfortune firsthand. Some may classify misfortune as being grounded for a week after killing a man (for those lucky bastards that get away with lenient parents). Others may classify it as being caught playing tonsil hockey with another woman (you know who you are). I personally classify it as suffering at the hands of another. Let's say a vile woman -for identity purposes, I will continually refer to her as "Procreator"- who incidentally is 50% responsible for my creation, is a biomasochist (a term I created that adequately describes her, in which she is so unjustly upset that she enjoys seeing the world and all of its inhabitants writhe in pain) and enjoys creating misfortune. I, as her creation, am subject to the fullest extent of her biomasochism.

     Most recently, she decided to introduce some fresh, unused tactics to try to extend that misfortune. I can't thoroughly get into it, but let's just say she revoked something that I was in DESPERATE NEED OF, and without said thing, I would spend a lot of time in solitude. Yes, I understand that this a vague and shallow outlining of misfortune, but for those of you who know me and my current situation well, you will understand exactly what I'm talking about. For those of you in the dark, just know it was a treacherous plot that went perfectly in her favor, and I am currently living through the after-effects of it. In short, I was deprived of my comfort, my ability to feel like I am at home, loved, and welcome in my environment. As I type these very words, I am sitting in a cold room with eerily familiar walls and a sense of desperation to have that long-awaited feeling of home return to me. You see, that is what I classify as TRUE misfortune - to eradicate a being's entire sense of who or where they are. It's simply inhumane. I just hope that these next three weeks pass with ease, that way the warm and fuzzy feeling inside me will be restored and I can continue to supply you (the reader) with words that are hopefully happier than these. If not, I will  remain in fetal position for the remainder of my years. Or join a cult. Just a thought.

                                           A PREFACE TO THESE ARE WORDS

These are words. Yes, the very ones you are reading right now. They are the building blocks of sentences. In my opinion, they are the single most important thing in this world, yet somehow, people seem to disregard this quintessential fact on a day-to-day basis. My name is Jay, your curator, your Master of Ceremonies in this wondrous celebration of words. This blog is aimed to be my ventilation space for all of the nonsensical, adolescent ruminations that constantly plague my mind. And be warned, I can be VERY VERBOSE (hang on to that thought, you'll see it in action soon enough). It is my intention to post a daily rant about a word that played a significant role in my day or thoughts throughout the day. As a lover of words, it is my duty to spread them to an appreciatively-impoverished world who is still somehow starving for words.Words encompass life and human essence. Words can turn strangers into friends, friends into lovers, and lovers into strangers. Words can move mountains, start wars, build nations, and collapse empires. Words are everywhere. Your very conscience is comprised of your mind and the words it associates itself with. So when thrown into the fray, words will be your escape. My personal weapon of choice? My words, of course.