I went to a hockey game today. The first I had been to in years, in fact I never went to one of my highschool hockey games. The bleachers were blue, the floor cement. My friend and I sat in the upper corner, where we could be out of the social circle that we didn't belong to. As the game begain, my focus was not on who had the puck or who was winning, it was on a group of girls sitting in front of us. They all had neatly dressed hair, a little too much make-up, a cell phone, black sweaters and/or black vests. I listened to their conversation, every comment and respone was easily predicted. These girls were driving me crazy. They took up a portion of three rows, the girl on the back row, all the way to the left, kept looking over her shoulder. Constantly. She would say something to her friends, take a look around, fix her sweater, take a look around. She was constantly scanning the room, for what I am not sure. my theory is that she was extremely self conscious, and had to keep reassuring herself that no one was making fun or mocking her. I didn't want to point this out to my friend, because really, normal people go to a game to watch the game, not watch the spectators. My thoughts were put to rest when he turned to me and said:
"oh my god, those girls are clones"

The rest of the game was spent observing and commenting on the superficialities of the clones.

On the drive home, just before I pulled off the highway and on to my road, I saw a little boy on the side of the road. His coat was red, a knitted blue hat with a little red ball on top. His thumb was out, he was hitchhiking. This kid couldn't be older then ten. If I hadn't been turning down my road when I saw him, I would have picked him up. The rest of the drive consisted of me considering the thought of turning around and picking him up, but I didn't. I wondered why he was hitchhiking, what his reasoning was for it. I thought that maybe it was just another juvenile, vain attempt at running away. The kind where you go hide at the end of the street and wait to see if your mom comes looking for you. The kind where you are really just seeking attention.

I pulled in to my driveway, got out and looked up. I stood there in awe for at least a minute. The stars were beautiful, I slowly turned around like a top in slow motion. We are so small, and my worries even smaller. What a perfect way end to a day full of introspection and observation.

very long entry, a thousand apologies for that. but it's important to me:

I have a journal tucked away on my hard drive that I have appropriately titled, "thoughts." This is mine, a journal for me to reflect on my current mindset. I type in anything, anything at all. Sometimes I just close my eyes and type, opening them to reveal the subliminal thoughts that are raging in my mind. I have never shown this to anyone.

I was looking through some of my entries from the last month, and I noticed something very interesting. I could literally see the evolution of my thoughts, how the mindset slowly changes from day to day. Like a roller coaster, or a yo-yo, or a million other cliches that define it. I decided to show some of it to you, and I hope that it isn't taken for granted.

I have excerpts from random days. I speak with complete honesty, the thoughts as they spew from my mind. They make sense to me, but if they don't make sense to you, thats fine. Oh, and some of them may be a bit disturbing. I don't know. I hope you will at least read them and judge for yourself.

10/10/01
A weak mind leads to the decay of belief and acceptance. The walls sink in slowly. Wandering thoughts leads to wandering eyes. Misunderstand words leads to misunderstood thoughts. Although the scenery has not changed, everything is different. Looking over your shoulder in a haze of disillusion, peoples eyes slowly mesh with yours. wandering. Once a friend, an aquaintence, a loved one. Now an enemy. Ordered to destroy at all costs. A nameless victim. Piercing thoughts carve words that can not be removed. It is too much, the pressure constrains my every thought. Joy is replaced with apathy. Acceptance replaced with wonder.

10/17
emptying pockets lined in thought. lost memories and change, a kaleidoscope of laughter and angst. The door is open, stepping out to retreat in comfort. a quiet and swift deconstruction. opening eyes clouded in repetition. the vision lost in the shuffle. leaving thoughts in misunderstood gestures, a soft and slow tragedy.

10/22
sand through the hour glass, seconds lost in a whisper of silence. dreams of reality in a surreal world surrounded by figures and statues. I open my eyes to a misundertood world, stepping through the clear plastic into reality. Nothing really changes. And as we walk through life we observe the pillars and monoliths that surround us. awestruck we pursue them with pride and envy. opening minds to a wall, a source without response. And as I look around I see things. I see that the people are not happy, nor content, they just are. And I feel for them. I feel for them because they don’t understand what they are doing. Words are focused outward for a response from inside. The collapsing of an empire. The misunderstood thoughts of a misunderstood man.
_ _ _ _

I wish that I could understand people, I mean, truly understand. I look, I oberve, I see things. When I look around I see that below the surface the context is ruff and brazen, the original intent lost in the underlying meaning. I am not sure why I see these things, and maybe it is just me. Maybe I am misinterpreting. To be honest, I really don’t know. All I know is what I feel. And I feel that there is hidden context ‘between the lines’ of every conversation. Hidden in gestures and sarcastic interpretations. Or, maybe I am wrong? who knows? maybe its subjective, determined by the setting and feelings of the people..

10/25
a database of names and numbers. a collage of thoughts. a neglected list of individuals. as we look furthur in, we discover these are not only names, but people. familys. husbands, wifes, children. Lost in the shuffle of american life.

10/30
I turn the pages but it seems as though my thoughts stay on the previous. The momentary lapse of conciousnous in which thoughts are restricted while the mind continues to turn. The information is being processed but stops.

11/1
I cant believe how strange it is that we can be anything we want. I mean really, is that true? Is that capitalism at its finest? We are taught that we can do anything, anything at all if we put our minds to it. Wanna be an astronaut? go for it man, you can do it, or so they say. Wanna be a doctor? do it, everyone knows that you can if you really want to.. So, if all of this is true then why are we full of apathy and despair. We loath in our own pity and low self worth, we believe that we really can not be anything we want. In reality, I don’t believe it either. I remember sociology class when my teacher was teaching us about karl marx and his theories on the proletariat oppression. a select few rise above the proletariat and rule them. you see, we really dont have a choice. the rulers are on an assembly line where there positions are pre-determined.

11/02
that slight twist of the head when you are inspired. the way the eyes squint ever-so softly when something touches you inside. an amazing feeling that seems to come from within and just brush the surface of the exterior, leaving small hints at the profound and life changing alterations going on within. How amazing is that. I love to be inspired. I love the feeling. The drive toward something great. How it seems as though my soul has been lifted, and has risen above the everyday mundane happenings of a nineteen year old post highschool graduate, who is just waiting for his turn at life. I am not quite sure whether to be excited or anxious this time. I want to be excited, oh god do I. But the inhibitions are keeping me from that. The old thoughts that bother me are once again clouding my thoughts, hindering me in my quest for inspiration. but although I may not be at my peak, I think there is still hope for me in the future.

11/04
opening eyes shrouded in oppression and repression. a new outlook and a tasteless vision. the closetcase voyeur, only wishing to live the life of the mundane, cloned urban civilian. a vision of normalcy in a world lacking in moral. the slow decay of society. the god in the box, a family surrounding it in awe and wonder. a found standard, a way of life shown in three easy steps with a money back guarantee. a lost cause portrayed in a wonderfully choreographed puppet show. a slow and painful deconstruction.

11/07
the outline of a box with no corners. a mass confusion of sorts. an exit to solitude, where conformity means non-conformity.

that is all, thank you.

I havent been so moved by a film in a long time. Foreseeing a boring saturday night (last weekend), considering the current situation with my mouth and its lack of wisdom teeth, I decided to borrow a dvd from les. Only one interested me, the only one I hadn’t seen. KIDS. I had heard a lot of good, and a lot of bad things about the film. I had no idea what I was about to get in to. So, I put it in with minimal anticipation, hoping for the best. I didn't know that what I would see would be such a profound display of raw emotion. A haunting depiction of the lifestyles of inner-city teenagers, living life without regard, bearing souls on their sleeves. Several moments in the film were so intense that I literally wanted to scream at the television screen. This is a great film. Considering the extremely controversial nature of it, I am sure that many people disagree. If you look past all that, you will see that it is everything that a great film stands for. It left me overwhelmed with emotion, only a few films have done that. Requiem for a dream, full metal jacket, dancer in the dark, to name a few.

The film is a few years old. you may have seen it, but I wanted to write about it anyway.

I am not sure how it started, but it has become a ritual for my friend Levi and I to listen to all three weezer albums, consecutively, every day at work. We have a great routine going, we all dance around like wild idiots and sing loudly. Sometimes I may even be seen sitting in the corner, practicing my air guitar riffs. We carry on conversations, following the tempo and melody of the songs in the background. I do detail work at a car dealership, working in the same large building with eight mechanics. I can just picture us from their perspective. two guys, dancing around, shaking ass's, singing, and carrying on conversations that mesh perfectly with the music. We often get strange stares, and rather annoyed requests to "TURN THAT DOWN!". I laugh inside. Just because, honestly, I think that they are jealous. We do our best to not let our horrible working conditions, and our oppressive supervisors get us down. because, thats just the beginning of a slow, painful demise that will eventually trap us in. And I really don't want to get trapped in this shit hole.

.. .

yet another redesign.

what do you think?

When I was a kid I lived in a small logging camp (camp = more like a very small town) in southeast alaska. The camp consisted of 6 bunkhouses and about 15 trailor houses. Bunkhouses being for the single men, trailors being for the men with families. My step dad worked long hours logging. The wives (my mother, and my friends mothers) usually sat around all day, watching the one tv station we had in-between social sessions with neighbors. For them, this was the epitome of boring. For us, it was heaven. It was fantastic. There were about 10-15 neiborhood kids, and we traveled in a pack. When you picture alaska, in all its rugged and un-forgiving glory, this is what you see. We were surrounded by mountains and trees as dense as the hairs on my head. Huge trees. At one end of the camp there was a small hill leading in to the town ‘park,’ if you will (it was the same thing that could be seen in all four directions, but somehow this part got branded as the ‘park.’ I have no idea why). There was a tree fort that was a regular hang out for some of the older kids, and I remember wanting to hang out in that tree fort so badly. so bad I could taste it, my thoughts were consumed by it.

I lived in this camp for four years. It wasn’t until my third year that I could finally grace the floors of that beautiful tree fort. how great it was. Ah, the wonderful age of seven. I was invincible. I lived life with a passion. everyday I had some glorious reason to wake up. Whether it was to play gi-joes with my friends, or dig a hole in the dirt. Everything excited me.

oh how I miss those days. when everything and everyone was genuine.