Happy 2010!

Ah what do we know, only two more years till we all die! Just kidding...

This post will be brief as I'm currently folding my laundry. I just wanted to wish everyone a Happy New Year, stick or attempt to meet your resolutions (I didn't even bother with one, lists don't work for me well). I will unfortunately spend my new year with my little beserk cousin- babysitting. I have some movies planned for the rest of night, and champagne ready for the midnight toast.

The Pursuit of Pleasure.

I've come to the conclusion that I am a hedonist.

Granola Bars;
I swear nothing fulfills me like eating one of those badboys. I must have had about 15 chewy caramel Granola Bars as early as Monday to get all the way to ZERO yesterday evening. You know how Edward Cullen said that running is second nature to him, eating a Granola Bar is second nature to me. I go to the kitchen and I don't even realize I've eaten a piece of bliss until I look at the empty wrapper. There is a certain routine to my Granola Bar eating habits, I get up (usually during a reading session or being a computer whore session) and automatically reach for a granola bar that resides at the cupboard that's on the top of my stove (I should have a mini bicep right now). Sometimes I don't even intend to eat a Granola Bar when I go to the kitchen, but then I look at the milk in the fridge, and it's literally imploring me to go find its suitable partner ( I will keep making it a proper noun, it's that important). Now you're probably wondering "what's so special about the mofo's?", well it's basically a chocolate bar, with peanuts and like a coat of something smooth and Caramel - it's imperative that I mention that. Everyone loves chocolate, it's one those essential pleasures of life. But a Granola Bar gives you much more than a chocolate bar, it's fucking innovative. You get less carbs than you would if you were eating a chocolate bar, a miraculous crunch in your mouth, and caramel- or whatever flavor that floats your boat. I'm partial to eating it with a glass of milk, but with the absence thereof is just as fine. My high school at the moment is accommodating  my hedonistic ways by offering me a Granola Bar everyday! It simply amazes me. I wonder who invented the first Granola Bar, I even eat Granola cereal; the Kellog's Vanilla thing is awesome. So do yourselves a favor and go seek pleasure (not that kind...), unless you're like lactose intolerant, allergic to peanuts, I know life sucks. Or...

You were so dope.

Yes love, love your fucking attitude

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

There's a thought that's been like a damn itch in the back of my mind it has been demanding my most immediate attention (by immediate I mean thinking about it). It happens to be post-secondary school, as much as I am constantly reminded that I still have time ahead of me to test my likes, and broaden my range of career choices, I feel quite contrary. Quite frankly, I feel overwhelmed and this issue is getting much colossal by the day, and I was thinking about it even more when my friend harmlessly asked me "what is your dream job?". Who would have freaking thought that I was pondering over that question like she just asked me if I'd like to kiss that guy in Dundas street that knowingly creeps out out people with his downright redundant ejaculation of the word "Jesus". But that's how it felt, like I wish to be so many things, I mean who doesn't want some adventurous and non tame career in their life. But how often do these people achieve such dreams? How do you even go about capturing those ultimate self-fulfilling jobs- that's really the puzzling question, you take some courses in high school then BAM! You're suddenly ready to embark in one path? I think not. I can summon some raw determination when called for, but determination goes in hand with a goal, what's my future goal? After my friend asked me the cringe worthy question, I had four farsighted plans for my future, but I will share two since the other two are more of a fancy of mine. I'm partial to the unmentioned ones.
1. The Philanthropist:
She has a slightly peaceful smile tugging at her lips after one particularly successful day of feeding "developing countries" children. She pulls at her cap which is shading her from the blistering sun that envelopes the city of Quito, her pants are army colored and suitable for a long day of labor with the humble families that live in the nearby hamlet. She is deep thought, thinking that she seriously needs to talk to her colleagues about building a mineral water plant to lessen the spread of the new influenza. After all, unclean and unfiltered water is the cause of the recent plague. - sigh I can't let go of the idealist in me.

2. Family Attorney;
Walks in her living room where she finds her husband idly perusing through today's paper, then kicks off her heels and drops dramatically on the couch.
"Well wasn't that one heck of hearing? Thought Judge Simmons was just about to hold me in contempt of his damn court for emphasizing a little too hard the lack of maternal instincts that our impetuous Ms. Robbs has. Seriously the lady has but an ounce of affection for that boy, why she insists on stripping the father of his visiting rights is quite beyond me." Releases a frustrated breath.
"Honey don't stress about it too much if you don't want to brew a 10 o'clock headache"
" Wish it was that easy, but if you were there to see the look on that boys face... It was certainly shattering, he had precocious eyes, nothing that fit too well with his mere 14 years. He looked too stoic during the whole hearing, like this tongue lashing between her parents was too familiar to fluster him "
"Hmm, boy probably had to grow up too soon" Her husband replied nonchalantly.
"Well, I'm going to work my damnest to get that father what his title in that boys life entitles him to. He sure seemed more inclined to play his role than that woman. Heartless wench she was"
Husbands sighs, and thinks all these speeches and constant bad moods of his wife are too regular.
"Be a doll and massage the tension out my shoulders, this case is wearing me down physically."

- Well aren't my perceptions flawed..

I find that the most baffling thing about a blog post is creating its title, can't settle for a precise name for jumbled thoughts. So this post is going to be title-less. Because really, I'm reflecting on a lot of things here.

Naked Lunch,

it's not just an interesting title for a book, or a witty phrase that has us puzzling over its meaning. Naked Lunch is a way of life- a bitter, abject and dire way of living. It's looking at the very end of your fork and finding it empty, glistening silver with its clearness. But not the good kind of clear, it's the clarity that gets you in the gut, has you replaying your life and searching for the precise moment where things got beyond your control. It is to look for meaning in life and coming up short, or even worse; shockingly meaningless. Trying to salvage what's left on that empty spoon- impossible. It's naked, empty, and dry. Now that's a bitter taste for you.

Lately this shoe has been fitting.

Jesus day.

Christmas Dialogue:

"Hey, Merry Christmas, I got you something."
"Oh yeah? I got you something too, and Merry Christmas to you too."
Opens gift : " Ah thanks, that's nice"
"You're welcome"
"Well I guess we eat now."

- That was how flat my Christmas was, I thought it was too much of a waste to spend a rare free day at home, so I got in car with my cousins and went to catch a movie: Avatar.
It was absolutely amazing. It was visionary, original, and I guess some could call it futuristic.I felt as if I was being traversed into this surreal world where the soul comes in contact with life, in it's purest form. Breathing, touching, and connecting with all living organisms, like everything is interconnected. I won't tell you about the plot, movie reviews are suitable enough for that.
The movie was beautifully made and worth those 14.50 cents, oh, I did I mention that I will be seeing it again tomorrow?

In The Air Tonight

What can I say,
I like well spoken words.

"Poem"

-experiencing with  the peculiar.

You are a taunting apparition,

an evanescent image

bobbing your head, steadily, like a pendulum.

The mirror is the canvas on which you paint your sorrow and your wrath.

It all helps for one fleeting moment, until viscera deserts me.

There is a place where a fraction of the ones like me are confined to,

they knock their heads profusely on unyielding bars.

A wound – shallow, winks at the reluctant spectators;

like the indention of a precisely thrown scalpel.

You think me alarmed by a pair of puffy eyes or moved by the sobs

of restless graves.

But I, I can pick the shovel, with erect fingers and dig the damp earth to caress your skeletal cheeks

then take methodical steps back to that complicated life.

You shun my touch–a touch that will never reach the vestige of you;

I’m seldom surprised.

My words at the place where we uttered our ultimatums were faultless,

accepted with a sad nod of heads.

But then your mother sobered and exclaimed;

“You fucking psycho”.

Heads snapped upward, looking from side to side feeling embarrassed for your mother

I stood, unblinking; she wrapped frail arms around herself

and inhaled fresh gulps of dignity.

I apologize for men that rip petals from gentian violets,

I apologize for men like me.

But I, I’m truly not sorry.

- DjPrecise