Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Grateful Days in Ehime

I’m almost done with my second week in the warehouse complex. Last week was all stacking crates of beer into big boxes. This week, I am in the freezer warehouse, where my duties consist primarily of sitting here. That works out I suppose. Every once in a while a truck comes in and I put on my snow gear and go into the warehouse and stand around and watch while they unload it. Sometimes they let me do stuff, like push crates around. It’s all good fun.

I got an email a few days ago from the financial aid department at OSU saying that there was something urgent with my account that had to be dealt with. “Whaaaa?!” says I, so I email them back and apparently the problem is that I only received half of the money I was supposed to get from my loans this summer and they have 2300 dollars for me and where should they send it. Huh. Now, the responsible thing to do would be to say I don’t need it cancel it that’s just more loans I got through the summer okay and screw it. But, I am going to accept it and use it to further the human condition (or…improve the human condition, perhaps we needn’t further it as that implies expansion in the current direction?). Anyway by that I mean use it to supplement my expensive hobbies. Actually I will probably go to China or something. Or get gifts for you people. What do you want from Japan? Or maybe I will finally send Jon the 20 dollars I owe him. Though I really should find the post office first.

There is a thing called a Sea Cucumber, Namako in Japanese. Apparently that is a sort of kind euphemistic naming for a creature also known as a sea slug. In Japan it is food. I am going to eat some soon. I feel kind of queasy thinking about it but ya know, it’s just a slug.

I watched Hero again last night, at Jackie’s. What a great movie that is. Andrew tells me my parents recently watched it, I’m glad they have something to distract them from the O’Reilly factor now and again. … But yeah, what a great movie.

Andrew also tells me my journal makes him question my heterosexuality. That makes me laugh. Just because I am about as masculine as mickey mouse and am not having rampant sex with all the horny Japanese girls I’m supposed to like men? Ah you closed minded fools. Though in my ideal world we would all be more or less androgynous. Why does that scare people so much?

I like girls but I hate the notion that anyone should be a certain way.

Girls leads into Ayako, of course, she is suddenly back on the scene. We will see what happens.

I find myself reading old journal entries and feeling like someone else wrote them, like I couldn’t possibly have written that. It’s probably because in my head I am erudite and scholarly and insightful but all my journals are more or less emotional ranting and video game references.

Speaking of which, the freezer warehouse is cool cuz it’s absolutely enormous and just has big stacks of crates and it’s absolutely freezing and it’s kind of dark and winding around and there are ravens everywhere. I’m kidding about the ravens.

I like the way these guys drive their forklifts. They are so good at what they do that they just drive them at full speed and stop on a dime, they fit crates into spaces where nothing should fit, and they do it at high speed and seemingly without even looking. They are past the first phase, where the forklift exists in the hand, and even a blade of grass can be a forklift. They’ve reached the second phase, where the forklift exists in the heart. They are not yet at the ultimate phase of forkliftship, where the forklift does not exist in the heart or in the hand.

That was a Hero reference.

I kind of like the idea of communication through references. In a sense it’s only a sort of hyperbolized, stylized representation of what we do with language to begin with. Words just refer to ideas that we have in common, right, so it’s almost fitting that our use of words express experiences that we have in common. It gives additional meaning to everything we say, even if 9 times out of 10 that meaning is only a corny joke. I think every word we breathe should have so much meaning layered into it as to be worthy of a lifetime of contemplation. I think communication for the sake of expressing mundane everyday things can be done with points and grunts – I do it every day here. Language is something special. Written language even moreso – we can change spellings, fuse words together so both are recognizable, then it’s like a crossmess parzel, as joyce spewed out somewhere.

Read Shelley’s Defense of Poetry, it will change the way you look at language entirely.

I like Shelley, I will never forgive the one professor I had who painted him as a total whining brat and didn’t even have us read Alastor or any of the good stuff. How does it even make sense when you are a teacher to only teach those elements of something that support your biased conclusion? Doesn’t she want to be right? Is she really only concerned with passing on her opinion, and is afraid that if she exposed us to the whole body of work we’d disagree? Then she doesn’t even believe her opinion herself, there is no reason to pass that along.

That’s an isolated case where perhaps I am being harsh but how often do we all do that. Madness I say, I am tired of hypocrisy, for love of god can’t we get outside ourselves.

Of course I only adopt the moralistic patronizing tone so reminiscent of my brother George’s blog because I am talking to myself. You people are lucky I am letting you read my personal journal, it exposes me for the fraud I am. And you thought me insightful? You thought me worthwhile, mature, clever? Heavens no, and now you see, I am little more than a brat who never really grew up, with a penchant for emotional tantrums and a fascination with video games.

What I start to realize, though, is that so are all of you in so many words. Replace video games with racism or religion or narcissism or your spouse or gardening or baseball and you’ve got the human race, so at least my indulgences are introspective. How preachy I am sounding today. I want to include the disclaimer that I don’t actually know anything, I really believe that. I really just don’t understand humanity, it puzzles and frustrates me, it’s more complex than it should be because it all seems so simple but it can’t be.

Am I so solipsistic? I’m not even sure I exist, right, so how can I be sure you all do? Is it solipsism if you think everything is the product of your own perceptions and yet you remove all value from those? It’s just kind of sad, maybe. Not sure.

Do you, oh loyal readers, find my updates irritating? I kind of do, but maybe it’s because I find life irritating, sort of? I use this to write all sorts of crap that too simplistic or sappy or senseless to talk about, just the various things that go on in my head. It’s really honest but perhaps not worth writing perhaps? But otherwise I’d be writing about the parties I go to and the sights I see and frankly I’d rather have stories to tell when I get back.

But, to throw ya’ll a bone, I went to this exclusive party. It was in a “club” on the fourth floor of an apartment building (I think?) smaller than my freshman year dorm room. It was a lot of fun, but the music was loud. I danced. I couldn’t hear myself think so there was no way I was gonna be able to talk to any of the handful of unattached ladies there, so I exchanged sad smiles with the pretty ones and we all danced the night away.

Then Tricia got piss drunk and we had to kill her.

No I’m kidding. She wasn’t drunk, we just wanted something to do.

No I’m kidding.

Or am I?

--

I was gonna stop there cuz I was under the impression I’d have work in the afternoon, but nah. So here I sit.

I never want to mistaken for bored or ungrateful. I don’t mean in this circumstance, I mean in life, because those are two states that I simply never fall into. I am NEVER bored – ennui is sort of a different animal – and I am always acutely aware of how great my life is and how grateful I am.

Ever notice how when I have a tragic sad title to my blog updates it’s frequently an upbeat blog, and when I have a happy title it’s usually introspective and sad? Or did I make that up? My titles come from nothing at all, just whatever I’m feeling at the instant, so it seems odd that they would be at odds with the content of the blog.

And that is where I stopped writing at work. Here it is a few hours later, I am in the coffee shop. Right around this point in the blog jon and dan signed on, so I got to talk to people. One conversation was uplifting and the other made me sad, but in the end nothing matters and I am drinking coffee and writing in my blog, wishing I was playing Metal Gear 3.

What scares you?

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