You Shall Be "You" Because To Give You A Name Would Mean You Exist. Posted by Sad Blogger , 17.5.11 at Tuesday, May 17, 2011, in

What you need is a good dose of "none of it matters."

Give it to me. 

I don't have a syringe big enough for you, my dear. Even if I did, it's one of those things you can't just have administered. You have to fall into that habit by yourself. Fall through enough trapdoors. Until you land on your back and that numbness in your spine shows you the truth. To put it less pretentiously, I can't change your mind. You have to let yourself realize it.

Well that's not happening. 

You know how people always talk about how nothing is perfect? You gotta figure that means the next best thing anybody—anything—can hope to be is "enough." Poets speak, with leaps and bounds, of the hyperbolic lengths to which their lovers excite their senses and how the women they admire set them ablaze and it seems like horseshit. You don't make my heart explode and the world doesn't disappear when I stare into your eyes. But I smile when you're around and I do stare into your eyes and that's enough. If you'd been paying attention, it might have gotten through to that beautiful mind of yours that you're enough.

You didn't say I had a beautiful mind. You said I had a thick skull and I laughed. 

Whatever. People weren't meant to be considered against the entirety of existence. We look at ourselves compared to EVERYTHING that we are aware of and we are aware of too much. The world is on fire around us and it's ruining our lives because we see it every day. You have to ignore the flames. You have to bring it down to something far more local. You have to take yourself personally. Inside the sphere of your existence, you are "You" and nobody else matters. You depend on yourself and only you give yourself license to continue existing. So tell me, if only you matter, what else matters?

You want me to say "nothing" but I can't. A person who is a people person can't think like that. 

You say that as though I'm not a people person 

As much as you want me to say something more insightful, changing my words won't make your point. First of all, since you can't say it, I will. You aren't a people person. You just feed off of other people's energy. You can't feel so you suck the feelings out of them, bring them up then pull them down into your misery just so you can remember you exist. You use them. Secondly, I said, "But you're more okay with not giving a shit about what people think."  

Right. It's because what they think doesn't affect me. It doesn't affect anyone. What is it that you think you get from people that makes it so worth-it to pursue?

I just care about what others think. I want to know what they see. 

They see what you see in them. Everything that you've thought about other people is what they're thinking about you. All the shit you've thought and all the sunshine and all the dark clouds and all the butterflies. It's all the same. Everywhere.

I think horrible things.

Yes. You expected nobody else would? You never considered what's inside all of our heads? It's as bad in here as it is in there.  

Quit adding words. It's not clever if you're editing the way it came out the first time. But I don't want people to think bad things about me. I'm sweet, usually honest, and adorable .

You can't stop them, Stupid. There are seven billion people out there and if we put you on a conveyor belt and every one of them had to look at you and judge you within twelve seconds, one billion people would adore you and six billion would loathe you. And not a single bit of it matters. 

... 

That's not an actual response. Because all those awful things about other people that YOU think, dont affect them. They keep moving on. You sneer at their shoes or you click your tongue at their slutiness or you fawn over their writing or you lust after their eyes and it doesn't make a single goddamn difference. The same goes for yourself. People tsk at your vertical handicap or stare deeply into your eyes or cringe at your freckles or long to hold you forever and it doesn't make you a different person. It doesn't even make you YOU. You make you you. We are ourselves and all this exterior is fluff.

The worst part is knowing how many "You"s there really are and how much I long to fill your mind like a thick syrup. How much it matters to me what you think. Hello, I promised I'd be a hypocrite and your humble admirer has delivered. Think of me. Happily. Seldomly. Finally.

You boy-faced prick,

    -Sad Blogger

It's Like It's All This Guy Thinks About Posted by Sad Blogger , 14.5.11 at Saturday, May 14, 2011, in

It's days like this, when stumbling upon something so incredibly haunting, that I hate humanity a little bit less.

Imagine the day you stumble upon something that will make you love humanity.

I took the preceding from the comments on a YouTube video. The first is not all that important. Sure, I can relate to it...I feel like most days I'm actually seeking out the filth of the internet so that I might further my hatred for the world. Not even the filth. Sometimes the most beige, innocuous blog entry is enough to infuriate me just because of how completely dull people actually dare to be.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sat down and started writing all that about a week ago. I logged in a couple times on separate days to edit and adjust, but each time left me bored and uninspired. Which is somewhat ironic since the post was going to end up being about inspiration. I'm pretty sure I wrote a blog last summer about inspiration and how powerful it is. I probably waxed poetic on the way it comes over you and surges through your veins like when the surf pounds against cliffs in dramatic movies starring iconic blonde women. Ya, that kind of shit.

I can't be bothered to actually go back and find that entry, so I'll just keep making assumptions about it. I probably fawned over how long that "I just need to create" sensation hangs around you neck like a little boy with Polio. (Yes, most people would say a chain or something of the sort. A chain is too heavy for this capacity though. The weight of inspiration in like when you have just enough blankets during a not-particularly-cold night. They aren't so much keeping you warm as much as they're just keeping you safe with their presence.) I would have regaled you with my pontifications that the weight of inspiration isn't violent. That it's less like a punch and more like a firm massaging sensation.

But lately it seems so fleeting. A friend of mine questioned my constant reference to inspiration in the past tense. "I was inspired." "It was an inspiration." I explained to her:

To be inspired isn't to be pushed along like the first time you ride a bicycle. It's like being pushed off a cliff.
You get the spark you need and the rest is freefalling.
You gain momentum because that's the only option you have.

Bit of a change in perspective after a year. It was a rather impressive thing to say, though, wasn't it? In fact, when I sat down to write this, I pasted that quote into the bottom of the text box to eventually work into the entry. There's a good chance I finally sat down and committed to finishing this just so that I could shove my philosophizing in your faces.

The truth is that I want to be inspired. As much as it really is a punch in the gut, that freefall is quite spectacular. I wrote a poem last month copying the style of John Donne's "The Good Morrow" and I'm very proud of it. I think it's beautiful and impressive and the people I've let read it echo my sentiments. The poem itself is about inspiration and I think I was inspired when I wrote it. The romantic artist in me is obsessed with the idea of a muse and finding one's own voice within the soul of another, etc.

I've lost my point completely. Once again, the comments on that YouTube video made me think about how easy it is to look around and feel contempt for everything around me. I was about to say 'around us' but maybe you're not as much of a miserable grouch as I am. Either way, the notion that there's something out there that might make me fall in love with the world was refreshing. It still is. Not enough to inspire my ass to work on writing something for more than 5 minutes, but at least there's a bit of a spark. It was kind of like a plenty-of-fish pep talk without the cliches and subtle references to my loneliness. I hate to admit it in these words, but it gave me hope.

Here's hoping,

   -Sad Blogger

April 23- 1-2-3-4 Songs Posted by Happy Blogger , 10.5.11 at Tuesday, May 10, 2011, in

April 23/11


So we woke up at 3:15 am, and checked out, grabbed our "breakfast boxes" and headed out for the airport. My hair (bangs especially) developed this crazy finger curl type style that was commented on several times. The airport was chaotic, but it was swell. Once on the plane, I decided to close my eyes until we took off. 45 mins later, I wake up, and I didn't even know we had taken off yet, I had completely passed out. Airplane food was gross, but I ate the bread off a sandwhich. There was mush. Twas gross. Anyways, we landed in Xi'an, and it was beautiful, it was much less westernized than Beijing. We were so tired because we had been up so long, and we hadn't even eaten lunch yet. Our tour guide explained that Xi'an is better known for its noodles and dumplings (YES!) so lunch was pretty awesome. Then we went to this wall in Xi'an (and no it was not the great wall), however it had a total length of 9 miles. We got the options of biking on the wall, so Rachel and I got a tandum bike. It was hard to get used to at first, but a couple minutes in we got the rhythm (1,2,3,4)! We sang the entire time. BEATLES! JAMES BROWN! ABBA! At one point, we almost went down this flight of stairs because there was no ramp. Thank God we noticed! Our last song we sang was "Thank you for the music!" by ABBA which about summed up the experience here in China. The wall was soooo beautiful, and it was very hot, but with a nice breeze so it was perfect temperature. It was a perfecet experience, and it was a really memorable moment for Rachel and I. At the end, we were attacked by several chinese by-standers, and we stoof there for about 5 minutes getting our pictures taken with so many different people. Rachel poured her H2O on her head and mine too. We went to go back to our new Hotel (it had cool purple stairs that changed yellow when you stepped on them). After being supremely sweaty froma 9 mile bike ride, a shower was well deserved! I felt so fresh after! So Rachel and I put on our pretty dresses and went to a show. The show was various types of traditional chinese dances, and cultural demonstrations. I was at the front which was amazing. GOAL: I'm going to learn to do a back flip when I get home! Supper was a large buffet that was crazy packed. Oh well! I've given up on eating meat here. I just can't do it. But food was much tastier, but still fairly greasy and makes me sick. Tum Tum Tum Tums (sounding like Beethoven). Went and visited Madison and Rhianons room-super sketch- they seriously have the worst lulck ever! Madison saved me in my time of need. (Once again, mother nature can go die in a hole). Went down to our room 516, and vegged with Rach. We talked for a while and talked through emotions.


-xxxooo





You think airplane food is bad in Canada? Just imagine China's.... For me, everything was mystery meat- because you could never really tell what was what anymore. They gave us Kongi(?) which is sort of like tapioca porrige. Gross. Anyways. Being at the wall was amazing. Because we had been traveling that morning, we were all wearing heavier clothing because it would cold on the airplane, however it was about 35 in Xi'An so we just had to deal with the heat. At first Rachel wanted to do her own thing as per bike, but I asked her if we could try a tandum bike together. I had never been on one before and it was freakin' hard the first couple of minutes. One of you loose your balance and you're going down! It was great for Rachel and I, because we got a chance to work together to keep in balance and harmony with one another. We started saying aloud "1-2-3-4" and then we would find songs that would keep us in a rhythm so we wouldn't fall over on our bike. We were in complete harmony with one another and it was just an exhilirating experience. It took us about an hour and a half to get around. We were just doing our own thing. I can bet that chinese people aren't used to having people sing for an hour and a half at the top of their lungs- because we got a lot of strange looks- but we didn't care. Our hotel was amazing, and ofcourse I was naturally drawn to the purple stairs (Madison and I both!). We stood waiting to get our keys for our room for forever. I kind of wished that our school would be a little more organized when it comes to this kind of stuff- oh well, what can you do? My luggage showed up in a later group, so I had to sit around in my stinky clothes an extra hour than most people. Yummy. Rachel and I got all dressed up. For the most part, I don't usually dress up all nice and what not- but sometimes it is the best feeling to take a shower after 9 mile bike ride and to put on a nice dress! We felt pretty:) After the show, it was ridiculous. They should have organized it so that only 1 or 2 tables go at a time for the buffet- but instead it was a free for all. So I tried to get some dessert first, so I could have a "Marie Antoinette", but even that had a huge line up. Our table gave up on trying to go and stand in line for food. So I went and got a plate so that we could all share at our table. P.S. mashed potatoes in China are called "Soiled Bean Mud". What? Anyways, they were pretty good. We got back to the hotel, and I went up to Madison and Rhianon's room. I swear, they were the only students on that floor, and their view was the back of several sketchy buildings and what not. At one point when they were in this hotel room, and they came in and it smelt like smoke... I figured it was an underpaid staff in need of a quick smoke. Went back to my room, which was less sketchy thank god, and just hung out for a bit, eating cookies and chocolate- because I promise you, my friend, there are none of that in China!

-Happy Blogger

April 22- What I've Been Waiting For Posted by Happy Blogger , at Tuesday, May 10, 2011, in

April 22/11
We went to a tea ceremony at a place called Dr. Tea. Anyways I sat in a smaller 'executive' room where we tried 4 types of tea. Jasmine tea which is half green tea with jasmine blossoms. Then we had oolong tea, which to drink properly you must slurp to get the proper taste (and there is a difference!) We tried a tea called pu-er tea which is the only tea that has no caffeine, and its not made out of tea leaves. IT's great for health, and it tastes like nothing, so you can mix flavors with it-(drink and make kissing noises to get the taste). Last was this fruit tea which kind of looked like trail mix, but tasted amazingly sweet even though it had no sugar. Then they had these mugs that would change color when hot water was poured in. Then there is the 'pee-pee boy' that sprays water when water is properly heated. So I bought all that. Then we went for lunch which was the BEST FOOD thus far. We tried 8 different kinds of dumplings yummmmm! Then we went to a silk factory and got to see how it's made- very cool! It's so stretchy! It was very expensive though and I was running out of money. Then we headed off for the 'Silk-road market' where we would get to use our bartering skills. Well it was very busy, and the people knew we are tourists so there was a lot of "come here, special price for you" "what you like?!" "Come here, I have something perfect...."Anyways, I suck at bartering but bought what I had to buy. It was pretty funny they have these chairman Mao flasks and Obama in communist China outfits. Some of the spelling was funny (because most of this stuff is fake) the brand FCUK had a belt, but it flat out read "FUCK". Bahaha, oh I wish I had my camera at the time. Rachel was a crazy bartere, Alayna was about to buy something for 55, and rachel persisted on 20, the lady called her a crazy bitch and hit her on the head several times with a t-shirt. It was soooo funny, and there is video proof coutesy of Koltan. After I felt very overwhelmed and tired, but that soon ended when we got to Hutong (which is China before it was modernized). Walking through it was so beautiful, and I was sooo happy because this was the "China" I was looking forward to seeing. We got a rickshaw tour which was very cool, because there were many restaurants along the way with their own falre/music. It was very diverse and cool. Ten we went and ate supper in a familys home. Yet again, my favorite meal. Everything seemed alot less greasy and very real! How refreshing! at the end our hostess sang to us "The more we get together the happier you'll be". It was probably the most touching moment thus far on our trip, because we all sang along and it was beautiful. We also sangthe "Fang-Yang " song and a bit of "Hakuna Matata". Apparently this washrooms had no doors and it was a squatter without toilet paper so I refrained from using the washroom. The ride back with the rickshaw was CRAZY. they are crazy drivers here! CRAZY! But this was a very awesome day, despite the fact that mother nature currently hates me and my body. Great, next morning we get up at 3:15 am. Woooooot! lets go pack shall we?!

Starting the day off with a tea ceremony was just perfect! Considering I'm a tea-aholic, I was in love with every moment there; learning about all the proper/traditional ways to drink tea. It was kind of annoying, because even though we had a small room, my counsellor found the need to translate everything the poor chinese women were saying to help us understand better. Seriously, they didn't have that bad of accents and we could understand them perfectly, she just had to become super redundant and repeat everything they said to us. At the end, I bought a picture changing mug/pu-er and lychee tea and I got a 'pee-pee boy' for free! I believe this was the only lunch I had ate that much food at for a while. The dumplings were amazing! When we were in the silk factory, I was actually fairly shocked at how good the prices were for silk bedding and what not. Too bad I didn't have that much money. Oh well. I found a little silk kimono that goes over wine bottles, and I thought of my mother and bought it for her. When in the silk market, I walked around with Joanna, Wilson and Tom and some other people that tagged along in the end. I truly hate shopping in Calgary, so being in an even smaller venue with much more people made me more claustrophobic than ever, and I am suprised to this date I didn't end up having a panic attack whilst in there. Once back on the bus, I took a couple minutes just to breathe and then all was well. Being in Hutong was the most authentic experience we got to have of China. Eating the dinner served by the family was amazing. After a couple days of eating restaurant meals, eating a home cooked dinner just hit home with most of us. The family consisted of an elderly wife and husband, and when the woman started singing to us, it almost brought me to tears. At the end of the meal, I thanked them for supper, gave them some gifts from Canada (Maple Syrup/Maple cookies!) and got a picture with them. All the food in China kind of messed up my system. I felt weird pretty much the entire trip. By the end of the night, I felt on top of the world (more so than I did after climbing the wall) because we had a great lunch and dinner, and I got to see what I wanted in China.

-Happy Blogger

A quick note on the current playlist. Posted by Sad Blogger , 8.5.11 at Sunday, May 08, 2011, in

Hello.


As of yet, I have never uploaded an entire album by one person. When I started uploading the playlists, I wanted the music to act as a sort of conduit for the little stories and such we were posting. I wanted the songs to be varied and unique and almost tell a story of their own. But James Vincent McMorrow's Early In The Morning has been sort of inspiring to me lately and I'm thinking I'd like to start posting whole albums for people to listen through and discover a new love for an artist rather than hear one song that maybe caught their attention enough to look up later. I might even start writing reviews for new releases. For now just enjoy Early In The Morning.


Musically yours,
   - Sad Blogger




ps - start with We Don't Eat    :)

Circumventing Cessation Posted by Sad Blogger , 6.5.11 at Friday, May 06, 2011, in

Yes, the title was a shameless stretch compliments of my favorite thesaurus. I couldn't find a nice alliterative pairing for "conclusions" so I stuffed "cessation" into the slot like that puzzle piece you angrily mash into place because you just can't seem to get any of the others to make sense. So there, I admit I'm too lazy to come up with something more clever.


I just got through reading this poem by Kim Addonizio and the transition into the last stanza struck me. My first read through, I'd gotten bored at about the "they say they don't miss you but show up in your dreams" marker. My attention was totally gone by the time she was saying something about headlights or whatever. But then it came back when I noticed that she was droning on about trucks on the highway and warehouses. I was instantly irritated. Why was it necessary to go off on some odd tangent about traffic? Poets do that shit all the time. They have this whole nice poem with one cohesive theme or symbol or what have you, then they get to the end and go, "Oh. This is the part where I should introduce a completely irrelevant symbol and conclude everything vaguely." So I had my little tantrum and got mad at all the stupid poets who think they're being artsy and ambiguous.  Then I read the poem again.


There's a good chance that the trucks were representative of a girl moving from boyfriend to boyfriend, "following the familiar routes of [her] lonliness." See boys and girls? That's why you should always read a poem twice. But that's not the point I want to get to. It's a nice poem and all. I take back all my venomous curses against Kim Addonizio and the other poets that fell victim to my ire. But there was some validity to my rage. Not that I had a right to be angry at anyone else, but I think I was reacting to my own fear of endings.


As a writer, I hate concluding anything I touch. I've mentioned in several of my posts that I usually just abruptly decide I've made enough of a point and proceed to hurtle towards whatever half-decent emergency exit I can throw together. My conclusions are blunt and unintelligent and (wince) vague. I think a lot of it comes from boredom.


The end,
    - Sad Blogger