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.