Wearing Thin

I'm starting to lose the momentum I had at the beginning of the semester--and I can easily blame this on the nine midterms and asswads of labs and assignments that pummelled me to the ground (not to mention the stress of deciding to change degree programs). I still have some labs and assignments to do, but I'm slow at getting back up; I have no desire to do any work at this point.

I took Monday off because I just needed to sleep. It was quite nice sleeping in until 1pm with Scott. Too bad this can't be done all the frickin' time. Oh well--c'est la vie, right? Right? Thought so. Now if I can work up the strength to keep on truckin', as it were, and finish up three assignments, one lab and two design projects with enough energy to start studying for finals.

In other news, I've e-mailed a bunch of people asking for their advice: should I switch into Engineering Physics or Honours Physics. Hopefully I get a lot of responses...or else.

No Words

I've never seen such a disgusting display of human behavior. A lot of people have found the livejournal belonging to the boy responsible for the school shooting, and made a mockery of it. Posting comments like "LOLZ, you're cool, add me" is incredibly disrespectful. How can you call yourself a human being after showing the world you're an insensitive prick? I feel like I want to throw up. I feel like I've been violated by human kind after witnessing this vile indecency.

No Words

I haven't seen a disgusting display of human filth in a long time. A lot of people have found the livejournal belonging to the guy responsible for the school shooting, and they have made a mockery out of the entire thing. It's unbelievably revolting, ill-mannered and vile. How can you call yourself human after posting a comment like "LOLZ you're cool, add me"?

I feel so...violated by human kind after witnessing comments like that.

Writing!

Both Scott and I want to start writing again, like we both once did back in high school. So, I came up with a plan: each Sunday we will assign each other a topic to write about (anything goes), and we each have until the next Sunday to come up with something, however long. We'll then exchange our stories and give each other feedback. It's exciting, I say!

Gotta Kick at the Darkness Until it Bleeds Daylight

Scott and I have reached, quite happily, the one year mark of our relationship. To celebrate this I wrote him a three page story about my blossoming interest in seeing him naked--er, interest in seeing him (branching back from where I first noticed him in calculus class). We had a very nice dinner at the Grizzly Grill, where gourmet pizza and a rich flavoured chocolate dessert didn't stand a chance against two empty stomachs and two tongues just waiting to lavish anything they came in contact with. Our discussion was never ending, fuelled by our love of one another and an entire bottle of wine.

One of the topics discussed was death, or the fear of. Scott told me a story where consciousness and body were separated, and consciousness and machine were united--creating an ability to live forever. He also told me that, given the technology standards today and given the exponential growth of the knowledge, this wouldn’t be impossible and that it could probably happen within a couple of centuries. If given the chance, would you want to live forever? Scott would in a second; he does not like the fact that there’s a chance where nothingness will engulf you once you pass on. He also does not like the fact that, because of all the scare mongering religion has bestowed on the masses, hell is a possibility. Hell, if it does exist, is essentially for eternity, and if one does have the opportunity to go, they would not like it in the least. That’s when I got into my spiel of existentialism, and, more specifically, Albert Camus’s take on the Myth of Sisyphus. Long story short, Camus said that Sisyphus, despite his mundane task of rolling a boulder up hill, only for it to roll back again and thus starting over, would eventually find happiness within by facing and accepting the absurdity etc etc. Whilst discussing this, I remembered an episode of Eek! The Cat (remember that show??) which encompassed Camus’s take on this so brilliantly. Basically Eek was sent to hell for one reason or another, where he was faced with the devil himself. The devil, doing what apparent devils do best, tried to give him the most tedious and mundane of tasks imaginable. The only task I remember Eek being sentenced to was the one where he stood afoot from a never ending field of grass, containing an infinite amount of pointy-prickly weeds to which Eek had to pick. The devil went onto other errands involving torture and left Eek to it. Little did the devil know Eek was an optimistic fuck willing to help anyone and everyone (though more often than not he ended up accidentally doing more wrong than good), and went to his task with the greatest smile on his face--thinking he was helping the devil. Anyways, long story short, after completing his task, he finds the devil and /asks/ for another one. Eek knew he was in hell for eternity, and so accepted this absurd fate. Much to the devil’s dislike, Eek was completing more and more mundane tasks and asking for thirds and fourths, not breaking his smile. Eventually, Eek is tossed out of hell. A happy ending resulted, despite the stigma of an eternal hell. Brilliant cartoon, though I didn’t appreciate the episode 12 or so years ago.

For some reason it’s in the human condition to think the grass is greener on the other side. Scott wanted to live forever because, for some reason, he thought the future would make him a hellovalot happier than what the present holds. What’s wrong with the present? Accept the absurdity of it now, hope for the best, and find your happiness. Find the beauty of being alive today instead of the beauty of living one hundred years from now. God knows that, say, in one hundred years (if you’re able to live for eternity) you’ll be in the same boat (well, high-tech rocket spaceship…you are, after all, one hundred years into the future) as you are now: Continuing to think that happiness is held in the hands of the future.

Besides, every good book has a good ending.

However, let’s play the devil’s advocate: you are able to live forever, and all of your friends are able to too (assuming they want to), and you had the legal ability of euthanasia (which should be legal anyways, but that’s a different topic). This way, you could take your own life (with out it being frowned upon) whenever you wanted--you could die at your happiest. Now it would become a game of chance--are you really the happiest you could be? What about the future? Shit, a war? I should have killed myself years ago. Etc. No one would kill themselves because they would constantly think that future is greener than the present.

Let’s take this a step further and say you could live forever, and be happy forever. If everything is as we think it should be, who says we need to change it? Life needs contrast--you need to be sad and unhappy in order to truly feel what happiness encompasses. You know what love and hate feels like because you’re able to contrast the two. If you were able to take one emotion (happiness) with out the other (sadness), happiness wouldn’t be as special as it once was; it would be some bland, mediocre emotion torn to pieces with the boredom of it all. It would be a constant state of limbo, which, in a sense, would be worse than hell. Life is all about contrast and change--it’s how we’re able to say we’re really happy. I believe it was said best with “you gotta kick at the darkness until it bleeds daylight.”

So it all boils down to being afraid of change. Instead of fearing change, embrace it--accept its absurdity, if you will.


Wow, and I have babbled for far too long.

Trippin' Balls

"When I consider the short duration of my life, swallowed up in the eternity before and after, the little space which I fill, and even can see -- engulfed in an infinite immensity of spaces of which I am ignorant and which know me not, I am frightened, and am astonished at being here rather than there, for there is no reason why here rather than there, why now rather than then. The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me..."

That about sums it up.

The acid trip was amazing. After the year and a half of research on the drug, and after years of major soul searching, I decided I wanted to try it--try something that has defined the 'free, peace-loving' 60s for oh-so-long. For about 10 hours I handed over my reality to acid on a small, single piece of green blotter paper. The setting made the trip extremely enjoyable; I was surrounded by some of my closest friends, and the love felt in the room was astonishing. Scott being there just helped that much more.

Vanessa and Eric munched on shrooms, whilst Cindy and I each took a hit of LSD. Anxiety rose and my stomach rolled over within 30 minutes--I could feel the drug taking hold. Ordinary objects took on new dimensions; what was once a white ceiling turned into a window which allowed me to view a whole new world expanding as far as the imagination could see.

Cindy took her anxiety out on various things, like breaking things ("I'm sorry, I just broke your pencil into four pieces"), and much pacing was done by her in the halls. Paper was put into my mouth by another form of me; I needed it in my mouth. Random words and phrases and a conglomerate of thoughts flowed (disjointedly) from my mouth.

Vanessa, Cindy and I decided to go play out in the snow--barefoot. I've never felt anything like it; it was like I was one with the snow (as clichéd as that sounds). In our altered states of reality, we found out many things hidden from us about our house: there was the Forty Licks tongue that was vaguely painted on our common room closet; we found a gecko on the ceiling of our bathroom; the floor felt like there were hundreds of "dead babies" crawling underneath.

The carpets and walls all showed their true selves. Friends in old photographs moved as if that moment in history was happening right now. Stars, on the ceiling, danced. Invisible frogs showed themselves on trees. The road had coloured arrows pointing to and fro. Colourful snakes intertwined between fractals. The list goes on.

Whilst on the drug, I did much reflecting. I'm not going to bore you with all my pseudo-, drug induced epiphanies--but I will say this: to be part of the counter-culture in the 60s must have been an amazing feeling. Contrasting my current experience with that of those researched was an incredible feeling.

Though, on the drug, I could see how bad trips might arise. I respect acid so much, thanks to the research, and this caused me to just let the drug flow through me--not controlling it in the least.

Since the trip said its goodbyes, I've continued to reflect. I almost don't want to do the drug again because it seems impossible to achieve the almost-perfect affect that I experienced on Saturday. I do know that I will do LSD again, but not for awhile. I really can't see myself becoming one of those acid heads who drop every week to every month. Hell, I decided two days ago that I'm giving up pot for at least a month, and when that month is up, I'm going to strongly limit my pot usage to at least once a week.

The perfect setting for dropping acid would be in a beautiful park, surrounded by water and trees and where the green grass flows all around you--which we're going to find. (Kingston in the summer was beautiful, by the water). We'll drop the drug late enough so we can experience the sunset as well as the stars. Oh, that would be beautiful.