Archive for the ‘Rants’ Category

01/06/2022

Thursday, January 6th, 2022

A year ago today, I did not go to school. Due to our COVID-enforced hybrid schedule, Wednesdays were at-home days where no virtual classes took place.

In our living room, my mother had the news on in anticipation for the televised electoral vote count from the previous year’s election. I was interested to see how the event would play out, as I was well aware that protestors would be at the Capitol insisting that the loss of the previous president to the people’s vote was unjust. I was expecting to laugh at a gaggle of delusional, pathetic fools as one of this country’s final remaining tenets of democracy did its thing.

What I actually ended up seeing was a direct, effective, borderline killer threat to democracy itself.

I was practically glued to my television screen as rioters with their profane chants and absurd displays of red, white, and blue clumped into a boisterous mass eventually powerful enough to seep into the Capitol with very little restraint. I got to see a makeshift militia of brainwashed, blood lusted, homegrown terrorists, ordered by their chosen leader to protect their country by trampling on its foundations, stumble around those supposedly sacred halls of American institution, power-drunk and disgraceful. What did the popular vote matter when these once-marginalized, now-organized morons didn’t get their favorite flavor of Popsicle?

I knew right away that things would never truly be the same again.

The storm was ultimately unsuccessful at actually overthrowing the government. But it threw the doors wide open for those who cannot stand to think that we are all human. It beamed from the rooftops: fight for your belief in lies! Fight for inequality! You can do it! And these signals have worked, based on how many concerned parents have been putting up hands at school board meetings or opting for homeschool because their districts dare to teach children basic truth, or how many people are passing around cups of bleach flavored Kool-Aids about everything under the sun.

A lot of people love to cry “never again” at every big, culture-shattering event before excusing events of similar magnitude that do not negatively effect them or their favorite political pundit. But it’s true: deluding yourself has never been so cool.

Maybe it’s time we stop living in fear of the truth. Maybe.

Twenty Twenty Twenty One Hours Gone

Saturday, January 1st, 2022

Jeez, how did this year go by so fast?

In the midst of the chaos of 2021, it was actually a great year for me on a personal level. I remained dedicated to my studies and hobbies despite a worldwide pandemic and repeated human fallacy telling most people that giving up is the better option; I was able to go out and actually do things after a year indoors, meeting people I have always wanted to meet and going places I have always wanted to go; I started this here blog. I can tell that the person I am has become more mature and more realized, due in no small part to support from all the people I have connected with and the experiences I have had along my way. I’m grateful for all of it, and I know I personally wouldn’t want a do-over…

…even though the world could really use one. If this year proved anything on a major scale, it was that we as humans are all still self-obsessed, anxious, confused little babies with false concepts of freedom and liberty implanted in our heads, acting on our base impulses. Every headline about humans ignoring COVID safety protocol and media pundits taking advantage of ignorance for their own selfish gains has been more agonizing than the last. The Omicron strain doing its very un-sexy thing doesn’t help. I received my booster shot on Monday—and that’s after two jabs and a minor bout with the ‘rona—but I’m still a human. And humans are as resilient as they are fragile.

But then again, every year is its own strain of hell; COVID just made the flames higher and the stupid crap stupider. Being able to recognize that certain things are, at their core, extremely stupid and laughable is a really crucial part of making life somewhat enjoyable. And I sure did a lot of that last year!

So what does this year have in store? For me, it means escape—escape to the college of my choice and a chance to start fresh. It’s the only thing that seems certain when it seems like the ability to do anything exciting is based entirely on how reckless other humans want to act on any given day. It’s hard thinking about the future when things seem so murky. In the meantime I’m trying to follow the advice assorted elders push upon me: savor this time while you still can.

The mask mandates that are repealed or disregarded…the underlying shiftiness of newfound lukewarm winters…the recklessness of humankind on display everywhere from the grocery store to the Facebook feed…the creepy fake ducks I saw in a (most likely man made) pond outside a developed community I drove by last weekend…varying states of growth and regression, evolution and de-evolution…what a weird, fascinating time to savor.

Happy 2022!

Circumstances

Friday, December 17th, 2021

Good news: I survived school today!

I’m not saying that because it was a bad day—it was an average day, and my week was a good one overall. I say that because some attention-seeking brats decided to use TikTok, the greatest social media platform there is, to spread false rumors of nationwide school violence today in the aftermath of the horrendous Oxford, Michigan massacre. I guess the human race still needs to prove how senseless it can be. It blows my mind how someone could look upon such cold blooded slaughter and then capitalize on it by spreading useless, irrational fear capable of unsettling people young and old across the nation. We are already bombarded with an overload of subliminal fear-mongering in our day to day lives; we don’t need a new generation of coddled edgelords continuing the grift. If I’ve learned anything by watching the twenty-first century news cycle, it’s that

  • my university of choice is going to be overrun by this gang of frothy-mouthed militants
  • my hometown is going to be Hiroshima’ed by that warmongering country
  • my few hopes and dreams are going to be stolen by this capsized group and
  • my entire life is in the hands of that secret-but-not-secret cabal of all-powerful baby-slurping ‘liberals’

messages that only encourage the populous to withdraw, to mistrust others, to get a gun and keep it loaded. Make sure it’s military grade, too; and never keep it locked up—you never know when you’ll need it.

Luckily none of my peers felt that need today, as the school day went without disruption. I wore a discreet Safe As Milk pin on my shirt because the other thing weighing heavy on my mind was that today marks the eleventh year since Don Van Vliet—better known as Captain Beefheart—died. A quote of his hangs attached to my bedroom mirror—“The stars are matter; we’re matter; but it doesn’t matter.” Offbeat, yet eloquent. Maybe if we chose people like Beefheart over the fear-mongers in power, we’d be a better species.

The Government Failure Jig

Monday, December 6th, 2021

I crossed another city off my bucket list this weekend: Washington, D.C., this nation’s capital.

Despite the initially dreadful parking situation, I enjoyed what I experienced of the city, which was limited to its outskirts. At one point the silhouette of the Capitol building was visible from the car’s front window as we entered the city, but that was the closest we got. Still, it was interesting to be in the place where the government I live under has its home base. I listened to a lot of Jello Biafra on my iPod as we tried to find a parking spot.

Instead of seeing those usual obelisks and statues, we saw some very rowdy humans do their collective thing. Surfbort put on a lively and very fun show at the DC9 nightclub, full of yelping, stomping, and dancing. They shut out the December chill and proved themselves to be very nice people after the show. I hope the rest of their tour goes just as nicely!

It made up well for having had to cancel a Thanksgiving weekend roadtrip. Luckily, we were able to make the best out of out Mourning Turkey Day. The break had its fair share of ups and downs, and I’m grateful—even thankful—that it’s ups were so, well, up. That, alongside seeing from a distance the site of such a cruel and maddening attempt at a coup in D.C., reminded me of the stark contrast between security and discomfort, truth and manufactured reality. It’s becoming more and more frustrating how so many people hide behind facades of good intent. Maybe “facade” is the wrong word—it seems like almost everybody in today’s world wears their worst traits on their sleeves. It’s a transparent veil at best. From the highest ranks of society’s ladder to somebody on your block, goons are everywhere.

They try to make you feel appreciated when they really want to use you; they try to make you value meaningless things; they will suck up your time and try to justify it. They will place you into boxes, for categorizing humans as three dimensional takes up too much brain power that could be instead used towards contemplating the complacent nature of such cardboard cutouts. If you let society mold you in this way, you may gain popularity within some circle of equally fake people who will only show their true selves when they intend to harm you or at least wear you down. They want to reprogram your way of thinking, to make you think that the things that are harmful are harmless. The longer the frog boils in the pot, the more comfortable it becomes. You are reprogrammed to live a lie.

It takes work, courage, and awareness to stand your ground. It’s not easy to do alone.

If there was anything I was thankful for this last Mourning Turkey Day, it was the true friends I have for support. They provide more comfort and warmth than an early Christmas tree ever could, and they’re the people who remind me that there’s a few good eggs out there. If only they weren’t the 0.1 percent.

But not all is depressing, because life is full of fleeting absurd moments that really make living what it’s worth. I will never forget walking out of the DC9 as it transformed for the wee hours of the night from a punk club to, supposedly, a dance club for rich kids. Judging by the incredible lines outside other buildings we saw later as we drove away, this was not too uncommon. As we made our way down the stairs from the showroom to the small ground level tavern, a vaguely familiar synth melody came on over the speakers. I tried to put my finger on what it was, but soon enough the lyrics answered my question and a wave of pure confusion dawned on me: “Dog goes ‘woof;’ cat goes ‘meow.’” In the year 2021, a club was playing “WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY.” A million times better than Whamageddon.

A Whole Lotta Love For The Unlovable

Saturday, November 20th, 2021

The more I hear talk of “societal progress” and the like, the more numb I become when I see heaping piles of evidence of societal regress. It feels as if there’s no logic in the world we live in, a world where killers walk free while the kindhearted are rendered powerless. “Disappointed, but not surprised” is a sentiment I’ve been seeing around a lot lately, and it’s not hard to get disappointed at how cruel humans are towards each other. Why is it that, when the public good needs protection, the only response is the enforced individualism of useless culture wars? I thought we were supposed to judge each other on a moral basis, not on arbitrary factors like the relative pastiness of our skin. Or maybe we are judging each other on our morality: the ones least interested in protecting human life get put at the top while the bottom of the chain belongs to the people who just want us to all get along. There’s nothing more frustrating than seeing how blatant this display has become.

It’s easy to forget the things that bring joy to life when such emotions and chaos are swirling all around you. Yet I’m still reeling from DEVOtional two weeks ago, and it’s painful knowing that it’s going to be five months until I get the chance to congregate with all those beautiful mutants again when DEVO hits New York. But that weekend also gave me a renewed vitality and sense of worth in a world where I constantly feel shoved to the background in favor of the usual army of apathetic conformists. Being my true self was an advantage for once.

The Slog Of Life

Wednesday, October 6th, 2021

My time in COVID-19 induced quarantine has had me reflecting on the things that I crave or look forward to in life that remain perpetually out of reach. Like a nice dinner outside in my general area without the party being crashed by invasive insects. Multiple times, the dinner I had with my family the other weekend was interrupted by spotted lantern flies landing on our table or dive bombing us. You could barely walk anywhere without seeing one of them flattened on the pavement. It was disgusting to experience. Spotted lantern flies, like all insects, are fascinating creatures. That does not subtract from the damage they have been doing to local ecosystems since they arrived in America a few years ago. They did not completely ruin my dinner, a genuinely good meal on its own, but they were a nuisance.

Recently, it seems like life has been filled with nuisances, and they accompany everything otherwise worth living for. All of them point towards the path of one of life’s cruelest, most disabling nuisances—DOUBT. Seeing those harmful insects polluting the air makes the restoration of the world you once knew seem more and more unlikely. Seeing people’s conversations de-evolve into mindless sloganeering and virtue signaling makes you question anyone’s ability to think critically. Having your view of the world ignored and shot down makes you question if your words even have meaning. You get overwhelmed by a gaslighting world, you lose grip on your motives and sense of self, you become complacent. You are crippled when the spotted lantern fly that just landed in your hair should have been the one to take the boot.

I know from personal experience what it is like to be overcome with dutiful, certain passion. Ninety percent of the time, that passion feels one sided. Life becomes an uphill battle to defeat the monster assembled from the tangled wires of consciousness and unconsciousness, decisiveness and anxiety, love and hatred—and nothing is right until the mission is completed. The rewards are usually temporary and unsatisfying, and true fulfillment has a waiting list. Now that’s what I call a nuisance.

At least I’m lucky that a few of the waiting lists I’ve found myself on have been growing shorter. That’s not always the case.

A Few Words On The Celebrity Gossip Machine

Monday, September 13th, 2021

It blows my mind that there are people who don’t believe others deserve the basic right to privacy. So many people in media authority make immense profits off of the most useless and manufactured celebrity gossip. Glutting mainstream newshubs with this empty information tells the masses that world conflicts and political corruption are of no concern when baby scares and wedding fiascos exist. It commodifies the human experience to a systematic extent—how are we supposed to escape it? It’s a bafflingly cynical line of work.

While heinous acts of terror and rape deserve to be dealt with accordingly, celebrity gossip culture places all forms of human fallacy—from murder to making fun of another grown human person with a fully developed brain on the internet—under the same umbrella. The real problems hold the same magnitude as adolescent he-said-she-said. It only promotes a crippling twenty-first century hypersensitivity and, at times, viciously targets people who, in the grand scheme of things, never actually hurt anyone. Getting distracted by these meaningless items only allows the real offenders to scurry away scot-free in the meantime.

For the people receiving the feed, keeping up on such “news” can become an addiction. As human beings, we are all faced with varying levels of insecurity regarding our inherently selfish and prideful nature. Seeing a person in power who has done a supposedly “bad thing,” no matter the magnitude, tears down the curated, perfect image that stood so prominently before. The true, flawed nature of man is put on full display. It elicits almost a sense of pride in the lowly observer, who now feels superior than the persona-person for having not committed the same crime—or, in the most likely case, not getting caught doing the same thing. With enough repetition, the hypocrisy becomes commonplace and irremovable. As long as the happy buttons in the brain are being pressed in time with those on the “volume up” control, all is good from the armchair. Nothing of actual substance gets done, and the world keeps on disintegrating as usual. What the observer fails to realize is that no-one is inherently better than another, for we are all sitting here waiting for the earth to be consumed by the sun, preaching the gospel while whipping ourselves for our sins behind closed doors.

09/11/2021

Saturday, September 11th, 2021

Since I could first cognitively think, September 11 has been a day of lecture. Every year on that day, my teachers would take a special few minutes at the beginning of every class period to reflect on and explain their personal 9/11 experiences to us. It was an attempt at contextualization for our young, burgeoning minds who never got to live in a world without taking your shoes off at the airport or the Department of Homeland Security.

It sometimes feels unreal that, as much as I may relate to the adult role models who surround me, they knew waters that I will never swim in and no one ever can again. The pool is remodeled, and all those changes can’t be undone, and all I can do is read the recounts, look at the old photos, and try to understand the facts.

I never intend to speak for my entire generation’s perspective, though. As much as my generation gets classified as a homogenous cluster of activists and freethinkers, I know first hand how blatantly ignorant and close minded some people my age can be. Sadly, looking at the world through the clearest lenses I have, it’s quite safe to say that most of them will retain their false pride for the rest of their lives. While some love to argue otherwise, cruelty and selfishness know no generational restriction. Just look at the response that was unleashed twenty years ago, when not blindly saluting the flag in the name of Middle Eastern slaughter was “un-American.” I wonder why Muslim hate crimes in America have yet to reach pre-9/11 levels after they skyrocketed in 2001. Humans here aren’t as nice as the propaganda makes them out to be.

With American flags waving in the wind right beside Trump 2020 signs, it seems like barely anyone has learned from the jingoism, the violence, the hatred. But was learning ever the point? The wildfire continues to rage, and people continue to suffer in cruel ways supported by deep roots. The fostering of close-mindedness and suppression of critical thought that billowed up like clouds of debris smoke resulted in a terror that was homegrown, not some tricky bogeyman from abroad. It is a terror that has culminated in the destruction of lives and the obliteration of common sense, and there’s just no going back.

You can decline the supersize Freedom Fries offer with your Happy Meal, sure. But when Big Daddy has force fed you blind submission to the powers that be your entire life, isn’t succumbing just so much easier?

Poor News Report

Saturday, August 21st, 2021

It’s 2021, and the boys are back in town—the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan boys, that is. Almost twenty years after the American military sent the Taliban’s government went into exile, they’re back in power after America’s (truly weak sauce) withdrawal. You would think that twenty years of occupation would have produced some hurdles for the Taliban to climb, but their regain of what they had lost was sickeningly swift.

It’s the miserable end of a miserable war that has been going on since before I was born, one that, looking at the plain hard facts, ultimately proved useless for the greater good. The money has been spent, the death toll is still staggering, the weapons suppliers are doing exceptionally well, and the innocent people of Afghanistan, humans like you or me, are back to being incessantly victimized by an excruciatingly oppressive and fundamentalist state. Got enough of rose-tinted late 90s-early 2000s nostalgia? Try going back 500 years, when women weren’t permitted autonomous thought and simple forms of recreation were considered a front against the man upstairs. Heaven on earth, truly.

But is that really that different from the country I reside in? You can rejoice in the streets about how a man in a blue tie is in office, but that isn’t stopping the men in red ties, the conservatives, our own Taliban, from trying to exert their own archaic control over the populous. Bills proposing the restriction of voting rights, abortion, and gender expression continue to pop up like kernels of butter-drenched popcorn at the movie theater, granted that movie theater hasn’t closed down because of a local spike in COVID-19 cases.

The COVID problem is also an important matter here, as leagues of religious fundamentalists claim that wearing a mask for the safety of others in the middle of a worldwide pandemic is some ungodly offense. Vaccines, too, are seen as satanic, as they’ll apparently rape your body with either a tracking chip or reptile DNA, depending on which science disbeliever you ask. All this when hospitalization rates of those who abide by these reckless behaviors are spiking from their selfishness. We’re going back once again, back to when leeches and snake oils were used as cure-alls. Mind, these are the same people who also want to restrict the bodily autonomy of women and other innocent people in the name of the lord, just like those Taliban boys over there.

And did we all just forget about when the so-called patriots who believe all of this tried to pull their own takeover at the Capitol building last January? I witnessed the attempt at insurrection on live television, and I can remember it like yesterday. Unsatisfied by Biden as the country’s choice of president but fully aware that his election win was genuine, I had innocently turned on the news hoping to simply observe his presidency be validated, because seeing democracy actually happen successfully is pretty satisfying in today’s perpetually corrupt hellworld. I was aware that the moment was one that would be placed in the history books after months of incessant “Stop The Steal” squabble calling for another four years of Trumpolini (like the country hadn’t been decimated enough by the first four). I also expected counterprotests at the scene by those delusional goons indoctrinated into his suicide cult of personality, because you can’t help but do so after four years of fringe conspiracy insanity becoming mainstream political discussion.

What I ended up seeing was a nation’s people mobilized against itself, their brains rotted by lies and conspiracy, exerting violence in the name of tyranny, the decimation of what remnants of democracy we still claim to cling to. The halls of the Capitol became the stomping grounds for a horde of neurotic rednecks, a deranged militia free to roam in defilement of something once considered worthy of protection. All sanity and sense of what should be was forcibly ejected out the window. The patients had taken over the asylum.

It still unsettles me to think about; I never would have expected for the world’s forces of de-evolution, those dangerous delusions, to catalyze such an attack, to go that far off the deep end. People died that day. Many others feared death or worse. It was a nail in a coffin.

But we’re America. We’re united. We believe in freedom—freedom to treat others like dirt because they’re different than you. It could never happen here, could it?

Crockfishing

Thursday, July 29th, 2021

If I owned a nickel for every hard choice I’ve had to make, I’d own a bank’s equivalent, and should the rapidly rising pace of their prevalence keeps up, I’d be a millionaire by the time I get my bachelor’s degree. Since everything seems dire and of utmost importance in these modern day end times, I’ve developed a tendency towards perfectionism in my decision making, and it is both grueling and ultimately satisfying.

Every choice forces the possibilities left behind to die, opening the door to more choices. Fish hatch from eggs only to give birth to more when they mature. It’s an endless cycle. Every choice has impact, which not enough seem to realize, and seeing others make horrible decisions, while painful, comes as no surprise at this point. When boostered by a false sense of superiority, you gain lenience and begin to cut strings between you and your fellow men. What you do matters not as long as it benefits your wants, even when others may need the complete opposite.

When others look down at you from the higher rungs of their constructed Social Ladder, on the other hand, methods of survival must be utilized. Situations must be utilized down to the pinprick, and every move must be made like a chess game. Sense must be made in a world gone mad, reaching a point where what others deem as weird becomes common and not repulsive. Case in point: I keep getting this Captain Beefheart song trapped in my head to the point where mentally reciting it’s lyrics—

I’m gonna grow fins
‘N go back in the water again
If ya don’t leave me alone
I’m gonna take up with ah mermaid
‘N leave you land lubbin’ women alone!

—has become a cute ritual in maintaining my sanity. I guess some people’s blues are gill-bearing, and I guess that includes me. Considering how chronically perseverant I am, I always thought I was more like a cockroach. Maybe when my concerns regarding climate-induced end of the world scenarios become reality, I’ll be among them. If only the things I have actual control over were the most of my concerns. But I don’t plan on riding some easy path of acceptance. I can’t let myself succumb to that, and it pains me to see others do so, blowing their potential in the process.

I could choose routes that serve only to dim my bulbs, routes that satisfy others at the expense of what I truly need. Instead, I make myself that fish out of water, searching for the right pool.

And how right it will be.