Some old writings, here for your enjoyment!
Keep in mind that this was from a while back, and I've grown considerably and my view may not be quite the same.
From Feb. 10th, 2006:
We have no rights as human being. It is contrary to popular beliefs, and definitely with what we are comfortable with. Regardless, it is true. What right does a man, drowning in the Pacific Ocean, have to live? What right does one have, after being beaten so severely in the mouth and unable to speak, to speak freely? “Rights” and “Freedom” are inventions of society. Same with the concept that we may “deserve” something. We only deserve what we can get. If I want something, I do not “deserve” it until I do something to get it. The entitlement to something is wholly a fabrication. There is no should/should not. There is only what happens. Actions in and of itself carries not value or meanings, they are merely actions. When we say killing is bad, it does not mean the act of taking a life is bad. It is the intent behind the action that defines it. Intent is just as, if not more, important than the action itself. We would view a man very different if he killed to protect his family versus if he killed hostages during a bank heist. Some actions are more likely to have an “okay” range of intent. Others have significantly smaller “okay” intent. Child molestation, I cannot find an “okay range,” but that does not mean there is none. We may simply have not come across a situation that warrants it yet. I believe it is very important to keep that in mind. So if every rule has an exception, if we can never be 100% sure, does that mean we throw out the current way of handling problems? No! Let’s say we were trying to find the ultimate metal to make swords. Let’s call that ultimate metal “adamantium.” Does that mean until we have it, we should stop supplying our warriors with steel swords? Obviously not. We keep pounding out steel weapons, being careful not to settle for it, being complacent. But we keep on with our adamantium research. This applies to the justice system as well. The system is not perfect, most people realize that. But until we come up with a better way, we must keep using it. It is important that we don’t settle for it however.
Valentines Feb. 14th, 2006
Valentine’s Day. Is there any one holiday that is more bullshit? I mean, if one wishes to be romantic, then why not live everyday as such? Many are the casualties that fall to this commercialized celebration. My good friend Deb and I were originally supposed to not celebrate this day together. Some how she ended up picking up her ex-girlfriend and subsequently in said individual’s bed. Another casualty at the intersection of neediness and fear. But mayhap this day is not all bad. Is it possible that I am bitter merely because of the fact that I remain single? Am I like the career women who buy cats for company? Nay, I say. My single-ness is a result of choice, not due to a lack of options. I chose to live life by design as opposed to default. My list of qualifications limits eligible women severely, as I expected it would. So that is the price I pay when I decide on quality over quantity. Why do I feel lonely then? I suppose, even as I am just a man, I still feel the yearning for companionship. It is only human, but I refuse to wallow and brood. I shall put forth my energy into writing tonight and improving my life. Thus spoke Gino…
Feb. 15th, 2006
Phobos: the Latin word for fear. We all feel it. As long as warm blood courses through my veins, I cannot escape it. How we each deal with it however, is what separates the excellent from the mediocre. Alas, the masses largely fall prey to The Fear. It has been called many names throughout history. Some refer to it as Resistance. Others call it the Little Death. Whatever you choose to call it, you must not hate it, for Fear can guide, just as Pain may teach. Fear can save your life if you learn to recognize warranted Fear from undue Fear.
Feb. 17th, 2006
Well, my roommates are off to San Diego. I’m here at home alone, bored. Oh well. Talked to Scarleth today, such a sweet girl. She’s dating a 28-year-old man. From the sounds of it, the guy has been real sheltered his whole life. Gee, I can’t wait to hear how that turns out (enter sarcasm here.) The dishwasher’s broken, leaking suds all over the floor. I had an idea in the shower. A wanderer, travels all around the states and offers choices. He’s sort of like a djinn, able to make things happen, but without all the mysticism. So he meets these people who’ve never had chances to choose their life, or just never bothered. An example would be a very sheltered Christian man, probably only been with a couple of women in his life, couldn’t get a date with the really hot girls he secretly lusts for. He thinks he’s honorable and pious, but if he’s never had the opportunity to choose the darker things of life, then is he truly good? So the role of the wanderer/stranger is to give the people a choice. He realizes that most people would pick the easy paths and never be fulfilled, but he’s searching for the diamond in the rough. Why? I don’t know yet, but I feel this can be a promising premise for a book. A collection of stories involving the stranger and the people he gives choices to.
May 5th, 2006
A Breakfast Story
She taps the pancake with the pad of her fingers, feeling for something out of the realm of my understanding.
“Yep, it’s done!”
I sigh; the aroma of banana and batter fills the kitchen. My tummy growls. I haven’t eaten much this morning and the prospect of her pancakes fill me with giddy anticipation.
“Dude, I make the most kick-ass pancakes, you don’t even know,” she said.
I replied, “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Oh really?” A laugh.
I like her laugh. It’s a good laugh; open, full, rich in sound, and free. Someone once told me, “Jack, you can tell a lot about a person by their laugh.” It’s ironic that the one who told me this hardly ever cracked a smile.
“Here,” she fumbles with a stick of butter while trying to get the pancakes unto the plate, “cut the butter, will ya?”
I alleviate her of the butter, leaving her to keep cranking out pancakes. The butter is from a local farm; the name smudged on the wax paper. I snake my way through what little room we have in the kitchen, and grab the small glass plate in the top cabinet. I ask if this is real butter, or that margarine crap.
“Nah, it’s butter.”
Okay.
I take off a corner of the butter with my knife and spread it liberally on the banana pancake. Mmmm… this concoction promises to whet my insatiable appetite. “This smells wonderful.”
“Ya, it’s the Kera special, hiii-ya!” She does a high kick, almost knocking over the skillet.
“Whoa now, careful there ‘Bwuce Wee.’ I’d rather not eat my pancake off the tiles.”
“Man, I got mad skillz alright. You don’t even know!”
“Whatever, can I just get my pancakes already?” My stomach was getting tighter by the minute. I’m sure the lining in there was fully digested by now.
“Hold your horses, boy. It’s coming,” the left side of her lips turned up ever so slightly, sending miniscule tremors throughout my body. I realize that I’ve been holding my breath.
“Ya, well, hurry up will ya? I’m hungry.” Smooth, dork, real smooth.
She ignores my last comment and goes back to work. Kera carries herself with a nonchalant, devil-may-care demeanor. I’ll bet she’s passionate in bed, I thought. Fuck, stop it. I thought you’re supposed to try and treat women as just people now, instead of sleeping with them all. A tiger can change its stripes, so shape up!
“Hey, you okay?”
I must have spaced out for a sec. “Uh, ya, yes, I’m fine.”
She gave me a look, “you better not be having funny thoughts in there.”
“Ha, I wouldn’t dream of it,” I assured her.
“Oh, right.” I can almost swear that I see just the barest of disappointments in her face.
“Let’s just eat our pancakes, shall we?”
I responded, “Mighty fine idea.”
From Feb. 10th, 2006:
We have no rights as human being. It is contrary to popular beliefs, and definitely with what we are comfortable with. Regardless, it is true. What right does a man, drowning in the Pacific Ocean, have to live? What right does one have, after being beaten so severely in the mouth and unable to speak, to speak freely? “Rights” and “Freedom” are inventions of society. Same with the concept that we may “deserve” something. We only deserve what we can get. If I want something, I do not “deserve” it until I do something to get it. The entitlement to something is wholly a fabrication. There is no should/should not. There is only what happens. Actions in and of itself carries not value or meanings, they are merely actions. When we say killing is bad, it does not mean the act of taking a life is bad. It is the intent behind the action that defines it. Intent is just as, if not more, important than the action itself. We would view a man very different if he killed to protect his family versus if he killed hostages during a bank heist. Some actions are more likely to have an “okay” range of intent. Others have significantly smaller “okay” intent. Child molestation, I cannot find an “okay range,” but that does not mean there is none. We may simply have not come across a situation that warrants it yet. I believe it is very important to keep that in mind. So if every rule has an exception, if we can never be 100% sure, does that mean we throw out the current way of handling problems? No! Let’s say we were trying to find the ultimate metal to make swords. Let’s call that ultimate metal “adamantium.” Does that mean until we have it, we should stop supplying our warriors with steel swords? Obviously not. We keep pounding out steel weapons, being careful not to settle for it, being complacent. But we keep on with our adamantium research. This applies to the justice system as well. The system is not perfect, most people realize that. But until we come up with a better way, we must keep using it. It is important that we don’t settle for it however.
Valentines Feb. 14th, 2006
Valentine’s Day. Is there any one holiday that is more bullshit? I mean, if one wishes to be romantic, then why not live everyday as such? Many are the casualties that fall to this commercialized celebration. My good friend Deb and I were originally supposed to not celebrate this day together. Some how she ended up picking up her ex-girlfriend and subsequently in said individual’s bed. Another casualty at the intersection of neediness and fear. But mayhap this day is not all bad. Is it possible that I am bitter merely because of the fact that I remain single? Am I like the career women who buy cats for company? Nay, I say. My single-ness is a result of choice, not due to a lack of options. I chose to live life by design as opposed to default. My list of qualifications limits eligible women severely, as I expected it would. So that is the price I pay when I decide on quality over quantity. Why do I feel lonely then? I suppose, even as I am just a man, I still feel the yearning for companionship. It is only human, but I refuse to wallow and brood. I shall put forth my energy into writing tonight and improving my life. Thus spoke Gino…
Feb. 15th, 2006
Phobos: the Latin word for fear. We all feel it. As long as warm blood courses through my veins, I cannot escape it. How we each deal with it however, is what separates the excellent from the mediocre. Alas, the masses largely fall prey to The Fear. It has been called many names throughout history. Some refer to it as Resistance. Others call it the Little Death. Whatever you choose to call it, you must not hate it, for Fear can guide, just as Pain may teach. Fear can save your life if you learn to recognize warranted Fear from undue Fear.
Feb. 17th, 2006
Well, my roommates are off to San Diego. I’m here at home alone, bored. Oh well. Talked to Scarleth today, such a sweet girl. She’s dating a 28-year-old man. From the sounds of it, the guy has been real sheltered his whole life. Gee, I can’t wait to hear how that turns out (enter sarcasm here.) The dishwasher’s broken, leaking suds all over the floor. I had an idea in the shower. A wanderer, travels all around the states and offers choices. He’s sort of like a djinn, able to make things happen, but without all the mysticism. So he meets these people who’ve never had chances to choose their life, or just never bothered. An example would be a very sheltered Christian man, probably only been with a couple of women in his life, couldn’t get a date with the really hot girls he secretly lusts for. He thinks he’s honorable and pious, but if he’s never had the opportunity to choose the darker things of life, then is he truly good? So the role of the wanderer/stranger is to give the people a choice. He realizes that most people would pick the easy paths and never be fulfilled, but he’s searching for the diamond in the rough. Why? I don’t know yet, but I feel this can be a promising premise for a book. A collection of stories involving the stranger and the people he gives choices to.
May 5th, 2006
A Breakfast Story
She taps the pancake with the pad of her fingers, feeling for something out of the realm of my understanding.
“Yep, it’s done!”
I sigh; the aroma of banana and batter fills the kitchen. My tummy growls. I haven’t eaten much this morning and the prospect of her pancakes fill me with giddy anticipation.
“Dude, I make the most kick-ass pancakes, you don’t even know,” she said.
I replied, “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Oh really?” A laugh.
I like her laugh. It’s a good laugh; open, full, rich in sound, and free. Someone once told me, “Jack, you can tell a lot about a person by their laugh.” It’s ironic that the one who told me this hardly ever cracked a smile.
“Here,” she fumbles with a stick of butter while trying to get the pancakes unto the plate, “cut the butter, will ya?”
I alleviate her of the butter, leaving her to keep cranking out pancakes. The butter is from a local farm; the name smudged on the wax paper. I snake my way through what little room we have in the kitchen, and grab the small glass plate in the top cabinet. I ask if this is real butter, or that margarine crap.
“Nah, it’s butter.”
Okay.
I take off a corner of the butter with my knife and spread it liberally on the banana pancake. Mmmm… this concoction promises to whet my insatiable appetite. “This smells wonderful.”
“Ya, it’s the Kera special, hiii-ya!” She does a high kick, almost knocking over the skillet.
“Whoa now, careful there ‘Bwuce Wee.’ I’d rather not eat my pancake off the tiles.”
“Man, I got mad skillz alright. You don’t even know!”
“Whatever, can I just get my pancakes already?” My stomach was getting tighter by the minute. I’m sure the lining in there was fully digested by now.
“Hold your horses, boy. It’s coming,” the left side of her lips turned up ever so slightly, sending miniscule tremors throughout my body. I realize that I’ve been holding my breath.
“Ya, well, hurry up will ya? I’m hungry.” Smooth, dork, real smooth.
She ignores my last comment and goes back to work. Kera carries herself with a nonchalant, devil-may-care demeanor. I’ll bet she’s passionate in bed, I thought. Fuck, stop it. I thought you’re supposed to try and treat women as just people now, instead of sleeping with them all. A tiger can change its stripes, so shape up!
“Hey, you okay?”
I must have spaced out for a sec. “Uh, ya, yes, I’m fine.”
She gave me a look, “you better not be having funny thoughts in there.”
“Ha, I wouldn’t dream of it,” I assured her.
“Oh, right.” I can almost swear that I see just the barest of disappointments in her face.
“Let’s just eat our pancakes, shall we?”
I responded, “Mighty fine idea.”
posted by SeekerOfLife | 11:08 AM
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