Why is 0.25mg of alprazolam enough to make me a little bit confused? I can't trust myself with this...I need to focus, it's so early I was so tired, the cappuchino is too sweet, I'm in a photoshop class, helping a midle-aged woman who i'm slightly attracted too, i'm conflicted. Today is the last day to apply to my safe-school, I hope I can do this, I need to give them my high school transcripts, that's gonna be a bitch. I can't believe I waited so lnog. I can't jeopardize this, I'm overanalyzing my life right now, thsi would be my only way out of here, for me, my quest my journey, now there are other options but it's hard to get down to business, nto that i'm lazy, i forget to apprehend myself in my lethargy and sloth. Have not been able to assert myself enough to claim alone time for research and management of my university progress. I am dissapointed in myself but not all is lost. I can still apply to evergreen before the end of the night. Transcripts...this week, somehow. Fuck, high school shit. I don't want to be judged as I was then. but there is no other option, closure closed to be continued

Work distraction

My father is trying to sort things out with the homeowner's insurance people. He pissed me off earlier today because it sounds like he's taking their original, lowball offer like a piece of candy. I don't think he's assertive at all, bothers to fight it, or is even capable of arguing for the truth. They say the stuff is worth $1000, but the police report clearly says $1800. Sure, anything would be nice, but if my father has to make these business decisions for me, I want him to at least vouch for me, and do what's right, rather than being pressured into whatever the insurance company can spare. He said he's going to explain that my shit is worth much more, and I can only hope that he'll do a decent job. It pisses me off that he didn't even question the original value when he had a copy of the police report right in front of him. And I haven't heard anything from the detectives yet.

I don't even know if or what or how I should tell my coworkers. I would only tell one or two people max if they wonder why I'm so fucking stressed out. I don't want people to pity me. If I tell people that my house was robbed and that I lost a lot of my major electronics, they'll judge me. They'll assume, oh, he probably lives in a crappy neighborhood. And why? Probably because his family is poor. You see...I wish it wasn't this way, but this is how people think, whether they like it or not, and whether they choose to or not, its just the way we think.

So, for now, this will be my cross to bare.

aristotle

Aristotle’s ideas of the city-state as a partnership begin with the sense of community. He deduces that every community is established in the aim of creating good, and these communities are composed of mankind, which always acts in order to obtain which they feel is good. He decides to break down the community of state into villages and households, to see the origin of the issue.
In the beginning he sees the union of male and female as the root of community and state, for their “good” is to continue the species via reproduction, and this forms a union or household. Groups of households become villages, and when “several villages are united in a single complete community, large enough to be nearly or quite self-sufficing, the state comes into existence”. These smaller groups band together for a greater good, and Aristotle sees this as self-sufficiency, whether it’s through trade or organized labor, it’s just seen as a natural thing because man is said to be a “political animal”. He proves his point by concluding that the individual, when isolated, cannot be self-sufficing, because he was meant to be a part of a whole.
I agree with everything Aristotle discussed in these passages, because I was previously aware that humans are social creatures, and that we need each other to thrive. Not to say that a man is useless alone, but it just further proves that the creation of villages, cities, and societies are part of a natural order of things, the same way that bees have hives and social ranks to serve the community, or how a pack of wolves operates. I found this reading interesting in that he was able to make such profound statements about the world even before any scientific or anthropological evidence was around to support it.

see date

One true sentence.
Hemingway says start with one true sentence.
Last night, my room, my sanctuary, my friendly gamer haven was broken into. Things were taken, the safety in its perimeter tarnished. The keyboard seemed so empty without the outdated, oversized Sony Viao laptop squeezed in. I was pointing toward it to show the officer, C said "Don't touch it Marc don't touch it" and I told him I was merely showing the officer what went on.

The officer was tall and I remember C inquiring him about some badges, "Did you get those in the military?" Under his uniform on one of his arms I could see some patriotic tattoo sticking out, and he was ready to answer any of my questions. I worried that he might think I had some ulterior motive, like I was too calm, I only had .25mg of xanax sublingually when I saw C. It helped.

When I first heard the news and got off the train I had to showcase my anger in some way. I threw my keys, broke a lanyard and whistle, kicked a signpost repeatedly until some people examined me and I stared right back. Ran to the other platform and shoved a shopping cart as hard as I could down the edge, but I was controlled enough to pick it back up, and moderated my actions to an extent to where I wouldn't get in trouble. I've never felt blinded by rage before, I don't know if I'm too in touch with my emotions or not enough, I don't even know how i felt when I first heard. I was calm first. I couldn't do anything. What kind of man would stand up and hit someone out of rage? I was more pissed at my father than anything, he said

-Marcus the neighbor told me about something that happened while we were out, some people went into the house with a bag, what game consoles did you have? I think those are gone, you said a PS3? Yeah I don't see that there either

he sounded so stupid and nonchalant I just wanted to slap him. maybe that was the manifestation of my anger. there were so many questions unanswered, so much investigation to be done, so much fear of the integrity in security around the room, so much hatred of the degenerate scumbags who could do anything so dirty and despicable

I KNOW my emotions. I have HATE. I have ANGER. and I want VENGEANCE. C says that if he knew the car, we wouldn't be filing a report and i support him 100%. normally I am reserved. that night I would bludgeon the man that did this with my frail jew arms to the best of my ability. it numbed me later somehow. later i felt desensitized. now I am waiting, because all that can be done is out of my hands outside of later questioning. all i can do is trust the city government's will, the police powers' stake in preserving the Integrity of the State and community, and myself to learn from this experience.

God bless you all. I am a victim.

Crime

I've experienced crime a bit in my day. I've even partaken in some myself. But last night was a night I'll never forget.

I was riding home on the orange line from work, trying to make some plans with my friends, to have fun, when I got a call from my father. He briefly explained that a neighbor saw some kids leave my house with $2k worth of electronics and hardware. I no longer have an Xbox 360, PS3, a couple hundred dollar's worth of games, and my only working computer, a laptop inherited from my mom. I didn't really respond at first, just knew that I should go home.

I don't know who did it. Neighbor says two guys and a girl, one guy driving. But there is hope, we got 4 combinations of license plate numbers as to what they could be, and the make and model of their car, but the descriptions of the suspects are vague. Nonetheless, a license plate leads to registration, which leads to an address, which leads to my shit. C, my father and I filed a formal police report and at this very moment my father is at home waiting for some detectives to search my room for fingerprints. I don't see the prints as a big issue because the officer said most of the room was wooden stuff and don't expect them to find much via this route. But there are detectives...who will be working on my behalf! They're gonna scour the local pawn shops and try to find my shit.

I'm the last person who deserves this. I don't know what can be learned from this either. It's not so much about the electronics, but the principle. C and I did everything we could last night. I didn't even sleep in my own bed because I didn't want to mess with any possible evidence. I was uncomfortable with the officer searching my room with the bright flashlight because my room is a mess and I never vacuum. It's okay though, I'm sure they've all seen worse.

connecting with people on blogger

I spent some time clicking on the "next blog" button on the Blogger toolbar. More often then not, they were in foreign languages so that pissed me off and made me keep clicking. I commented on a picture of some woman's baby. But it's just annoying how I can't search for specific types of blogs that I want to read, specifically on blogger. I know there are sites that have the top 50 x blogs but I just want a blog like mine to appear.

How do blogs become popular? If I keep posting a lot, does that bump it up the list or something? I just see this as a good way to organize my thoughts when I don't feel like writing in my notebook, but perhaps if I go more in-depth about my life experiences it will be more interesting. I just worry about the length of some of my posts, I don't want to intimidate any would-be readers. I'm gonna smoke a bowl

blogs

My blog is a personal blog. That means it's like a journal for me to sort out my thoughts, and do a little writing, maybe some venting. I want to find some other people's blogs though. Maybe it will help me understand myself a bit, and perhaps I can comment on their blog, and it will bring traffic to mine. Now, I believe I have just stuffed the concept of personal blogging via social media in a nutshell, haven't I?
I wonder how I can find new interesting blogs. I'm going to search via this website, but a lot of them are probably about specific things that I don't care about. Because mine is the opposite of specific. My blog is general. It is also mine and all the posts on it are my original content. Sometimes it feels good to write in simple prose, with simple sentences, and without excessive description.

When a man cries

A few days I was sitting outside of a coffee shop with my friend C, while we were waiting for O to arrive. C has major familial problems; he's a foster child who has a fuckup for a sister, who together have been abused by previous, biological parents who are no longer seen, and his dad (the man that he lives with) probably loves his real son more than he loves him. C's dad is also bipolar, and a complete asshole, but there are rare moments when some love sticks its fingers through the bars.

Anyway, he made me think a lot about my dad. My dad, who's been doing work far below his skill level for twenty-seven years, and since he lost that job a year and a half ago, has been working a job that's even crappier. He assumes because there is paper, mail, and e-mail involved that it's white collar but it's not. But the point is, he's not a very materialistic guy. And I think he purposely didn't choose to advance his career, because one time he said, "all I wanted was to have a house, a wife, and a son. and I did."

and I respect that, even though the house has recently lost 30% of its value and requires my dad to take out his pension payments early to pay it off, and that my mother divorced him, quickly remarried, and died from breast cancer within 2 years (in 2006).

i had to excuse myself, walk around the block, sit against some brick wall connected to a panda express and a major street and let the choking in my throat commence. i tried to cry but couldn't. but some tears came out. a woman walked by and stopped and said "are you okay? do you need money" in a slight Russian accent. She was holding wrapped presents and wore shiny earrings.
I tried to respond but it was hard but eventually said "y-yes i was just thinking about my dad"
and she went on about how we can't all have perfect lives and have to deal with what we've got, even though she didn't understand why I was letting go of some saltwater.
I wasn't sad, I don't think. I was just appreciative, of all my dad's done for me. I love him but don't know how I can really communicate it to him like that. I ended up telling him just that, later in the evening but it was not emotional in the slightest, just like saying please or thank you.

mistaken identity

turns out that the supposed Xanax footballs my friend and I were taking were actually some shitty antibiotic. Got ripped off. However, the 100 supposed Ativan that he jacked from his grandparent's estate...it's not lorazepam, it's alprazolam. fucking crazy. took another 12.5mg of hydrocodone, like I did yesterday. I got sick last night though, because I took it with fucking antibiotics. Tonight should be better.

I saw the dentist and am still having weird sensations around something i'm uncomfortable discussing here. I will now floss religiously.

myers-briggs

a long time ago I tested as an INFP and took it in a traditional manner
this time I got something different and i'm going to disregard the results

My father

My father is depressed, keeps to himself, and works jobs below his skill level. I do not want to inherit these characteristics. However, I live with him, and want to preserve our relationship, and create a better emotional attachment. Before, this seemed like a paradox, but I think it might be possible. I've heard before...I know...only I can change things. Only I can initiate it. He won't, he's too stuck in his cycles. But sometimes I can feel bits and pieces of him rubbing off on me. I am my father's son. But I am not my father. I even have his middle name. I need to be goal-oriented and not a dreamer. But I am a dreamer. This is a long-term problem, but I'm sure moving out will help, though that is impossible to do right now. Living at home is safe and cheap and I must preserve that. This is a long-term problem.

Last night

I dropped off C and D's house. It was D's last night in California for a while. We had a bad experience with D last night so O and I were irritated with him. Anyway, I had promised my dad I'd spend some time with him at my house, and that I'd give C a ride home later, even though I didn't really want to.

I see C and D and I was really tired and irritable. D gives me back the copy of Bioshock that I left him. and I find out that C has taken too much Ativan, and even mixed it with some Sparks. This is bad because he is intoxicated and must go home to see his father, who he's had a huge feud with. C figured he could come in to my house but it was too late and I did not want to upset my father. I felt absolutely miserable about his condition, he could not see with his eyes open, his voice depressed and his gait stupefied.

I wanted to get rid of him. But he was apologetic, and a few times just asked me to leave him, and I told him I could not do that. We decided to go to 7-11 so I could get him a strong, sugary and caffeinated beverage but I knew it would not be enough. The plan a to wait for his father to "go to his room", in which C could sneak in and possibly go to sleep without seeing him. He and I both knew he had to go sleep at his house, though we were trying to delay his actual appearance. I believe things worked out though.

He also told me that if for some reason I don't feel comfortable chilling with him or O, my latest circle of close friends, that I should just say so. Sometimes I've been needing more alone time and it seems that I'm always stuck with people. I'm going to be more assertive about this in the future. But C has helped me a lot lately and I owed him that favor last night, and carried it out the best I could.

The Republic

The role of “guardian” requires him to be brave and in good physical shape, so that he can fight well to defend the State. He must have a strong spirit that brings morale; because it is a powerful enough force to leave the enemy’s soul “fearless and indomitable”. However, he must be equally dangerous to his enemies and gentle with his friends, which appears to one of the men to be impossible. The solution is that the guardian of the State will be required to “unite himself in philosophy and spirit and swiftness and strength” to create a balance. The men discuss the example of a well-trained dog: angry at strangers and warm to acquaintances. It becomes important that the guardian must be a student of philosophy, and a lover of wisdom and knowledge.

And depending on how high the guardian’s duties are, the more time, training, and effort will be required for his position, not to mention that he must already possess a natural affinity for the role, i.e. born a leader.

i want to be a writer

i guess i don't read enough in my off time. But when I have time to write digitally, i will NOT edit it, and will post it here so that it will be organized. maybe it will be cool to look back upon in the future. hopefully i do not stop trying.

if there is someone out there who is kind enough to comment, i will skim your blog and comment too. we can help each other in this cold desolate world

more

-Come in, come in! No need to stub about!
-Mr. Gerault I've-
-Have you investigated the issue yet, with the X?
-Yes, sir I have.
She took a breath, removed a pen from her bunned-up hair, and pushed the amber strands aside
-Alright, well, Forrest is giving us a little leeway with the delivery. But we haven't quite worked out the numbers yet.
-And how many people did you discuss this with?
-Just Leopold, sir.
-Okay, good, one is enough, and all we need. You understand how carefully we have to do this, right? The shit is highly regulated and is technically illegal, even though I'm in charge of processing the damn pills.
-Well, if you put it that way sir...
-No! We can do this, we just have to do it right.
A bead of sweat materialized at his brow but did not put a damper his high-profile business suit. The chirp of the phone begged to interrupt but it was quickly silenced. She looked him in the eye but also appeared to look through him with slight confusion.

He pounded away at his keyboard, the little tips and taps from the pressing and depressing of keys filled the room with a sense of urgency.

an exercise

Pie in the sky, red rudder, the better to see, flying high
Unlimited phantasy spasm whoregasm thick chasm
chink in the earth a satchel a backpack to match it
good graces hit ya with medieval maces to make bloody spaces
within the skin and body's sensitive places
a vagina, a vertex merely a gap
chic relaxed Benjamin Gregory broke his spectacles they made a gigantic mess on the floor
with all of the particles and all of the people couldn't get their eyes of his door

His desk gleamed of cleanliness. There were portraits of prestigious things around the retangular office. His legs switched positions occasionally as he worked like potatoes in boiling water but his business-minded shoes remained pointing towrads the door at all times. He heard three timely knocks on the door and spoke in its direction, "Come in."
Red, red was the first thing to come to mind, a well-fitted suit on a well-bodies woman. Blonde hair was next in view with a nose and face. Some light bounced off the edges of her own glasses which seemed more formed to enhance her features than her vision.
-Mr. Bugels, I've completed some recon about the X factor."
-Tell me more