“Sorrow comes in great waves—no one can know that better than you—but it rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us it leaves us on the spot and we know that if it is strong we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain.”—Henry James, from a letter to Grace Norton, dated 28 July 1883
when i started out the day, i did not think i would have to send someone a text message saying:
"hey, sorry bout pretending to stab you. i do not believe that you deserve to be stabbed. i had about 4 hours of sleep. that was nuts.”
ugh. b came back when i was leaving a message for rachel, and i had just been dealing with the experience of this new lindsey chick. i have known her for two days now and i kind of dread her existence in my life already. she is tall and thin and blonde, and while she responds to any attempt on my part in conversation with a 2 word max. reply, she is every guy’s new best friend.
anyway, i was tired and surprised to see him, and may have gotten slightly irritated when he decided to hang around. my crazy mind may have decided to pretend to jab him with a pen gently in encouragement to leave. he saw it as me attempting to “stab” him. he was surprised/offended and i may have told him that he had it coming.
so… that happened. i don’t know why i’m allowed out amongst people anymore. he seemed to think it was funny afterwards, but i am a disaster.
i got a perfect score on that pain-in-the-ass observation paper. i certainly did not expect that, and i squealed a little when i saw the grade.
i have to say, as time consuming and stressful as a class can be, i am glad i’m doing this for many reasons. it’s fulfilling in the way that i know that i can control it - if i work at it and get shit done, it pays off well.
i can’t control much of what happens at work, since i’m dealing with people/customers, and i’m at their mercy most of the time. i can’t control much of my personal life, what with people having free will and all that other bullshit. but i can have some control with class work, and i don’t feel as close to a nervous breakdown as usual.
i am truly planning to go into that tattoo place tomorrow. of course, not to get anything done, because you need an appointment and that sometimes will end up being 3 months in the future. but i need to go in there - by myself - to know that i can do it. i will regret chickening out.
Over the last 48 hours, there has been a sustained effort to smear Trayvon Martin, the 17-year old African-American who was shot dead by George Zimmerman a month ago. Martin’s mother, Sybrina Fulton, said, “They killed my son, now they’re trying to kill his reputation.”
Thus far these attacks have fallen into two categories: false and irrelevant. Much of this leaked information seems intended to play into stereotypes about young African-American males. Here’s what everyone should know:
1. Prominent conservative websites published fake photos of Martin. Twitchy, a new website run by prominent conservative blogger Michelle Malkin, promoted a photo — purportedly from Martin’s Facebook page — that shows Martin in saggy pants and flipping the bird. The photo, which spread quickly on conservative websites and Twitter, is intended to paint Martin as a thug. As Twitchy later acknowledged, it is not a photo of Trayvon Martin. [Examiner]
2. The Sanford Police selectively leaked irrelevant, negative information about Martin. The authorities told the Orlando Sentinel this morning that Trayvon was suspended from school for ten days “after being found with an empty marijuana baggie.” There is no evidence that Martin was under the influence of drugs at the time of his death, nor would prior possession of marijuana be a reason for killing him. It’s unclear what the relevance of the leak was, other than to smear Martin. [Orlando Sentinel]
3. On Fox News, Geraldo said that Martin was dressed “like a wannabe gangster.” Bill O’Reilly agreed with him. The sole evidence is that Martin was wearing a hoodie. Geraldo added that “everyone that ever stuck up a convenience store” was wearing a hoodie. [ThinkProgress; The Blaze]
4. Without any evidence, prominent right-wing bloggers suggested that Martin was a drug dealer. Right-wing blogger Dan Riehl advances the theory, also advanced in a widely linked peice on a site called Wagist. There does not appear to be any evidence to support this claim whatsoever. [Riehl World View]
5. Without any evidence, a right-wing columnist alleged that Martin assaulted a bus driver. Unlike Zimmerman, Trayvon has no documented history of violence. This allegation continues to be advanced by a blogger on the Examiner even after the real reason was leaked to the police and confirmed by the family. [Miami Herald; Examiner]
6. Zimmerman’s friend says Martin was to blame because he was disrespectful to Zimmerman. Zimmerman’s friend Joe Oliver said that Martin would not have been shot to death if Trayvon had just said “I’m staying with my parents.” Of course, Zimmerman was not a police officer, and Trayvon had no duty to tell him who he was or where he was going. [NBC News]
“…but like for instance where do you look with your eyes when you tell somebody you like them and mean what you say? You can’t look right at them, because then what if their eyes look at you as you’re saying it, and then there’d be some awful like voltage or energy there, hanging between you. But you can’t look away like you’re nervous, like some nervous kid asking for a date or something. You can’t go around giving that kind of thing of yourself away.”—David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest (via frood)
“we all hustle and grind,
any system against us is against the divine.
but there’s no sense of glory in repenting,
you have a greater calling.
answering it is all it takes.
take a second to hear this
and go back about your day.
know that laws don’t govern us,
we’re governed by what we say.
what we think, why we think it, how we handle.
place no blame, point no fingers, take your aim.
shoot to kill. the bullshit.”—saul williams
it was eery - i was sitting in the kitchen and thought i heard my phone have a text message beep. i had left it in my room.
upon retrieving it, i discover that i had received a message from kristen 2 minutes before. but the volume on my phone was turned down all the way because of irritating people calling me last night and my not wanting to deal with it.
so i couldn’t have heard a text message beep. and yet … there it was. so either i am: a) psychically connected to kristen, b) psychically connected to my phone somehow, c) magic, d) an idiot, e) stalling from doing classwork.
“Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you’ll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You’ll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then for better or worse you’ll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you’ve got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.”—House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski (via thechocolatebrigade)
“Be not the slave of your own past - plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep, and swim far, so you shall come back with new self-respect, with new power, and with an advanced experience that shall explain and overlook the old.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson (via middlenameconfused)
Because a young kid is dead after being shot in the chest and the killer got away with it — for now — by simply saying that he was acting in self-defense and that’s apparently good enough for the fucking police, that’s the fuck why.
i woke up at 5:30 a.m. to go to work this morning and came home around 3. i took a nap. i woke up to yelling.
i was “lightly” punched in the eye by my brother’s friend while he freaked the fuck out on salvia and tried to flee the house.
luckily there is very little swelling. you’d have to look hard to see it. i think i turned my head when i saw the fist. and you have to think his aim and strength perhaps were not what they would be considering he was hallucinating.
also, luckily, the guy is perfectly fine now. for the rest of my life, if i never see anyone raising their hand to hit me again, i will consider myself fortunate and blessed.
rachel just sent me a message asking if i want to work 11-4 tomorrow.
i am very lucky i have a job, and i do not take that for granted for a second. but tomorrow is st. patrick’s day. i suspect it is going to start getting bananas in there early. and i have to be in there at 7 a.m. sunday.
while i was tempted to reply with, “no, i really don’t. thanks anyway.” i said yes instead. i need money. on the upside, i plan to go see 21 jumpstreet tomorrow night.
“one day you’re there, and all of a sudden, there’s less of you. and you wonder where that part went, if it’s living somewhere outside of you. and you keep thinking maybe you’ll get it back. and then you realize it’s just gone.”—mad men
“some years later, one time when i was admitted to the detox at seattle general hospital, i took the same tack.
“are you hearing unusual sounds or voices?” the doctor asked.
“help us, oh god, it hurts,” the boxes of cotton screamed.
“not exactly,” i said.
“not exactly,” he said. “now, what does that mean.”
“i’m not ready to go into all of that,” i said. a yellow bird fluttered close to my face, and my muscles grabbed. now i was flopping like a fish. when i squeezed shut my eyes, hot tears exploded from the sockets. when i opened them, i was on my stomach.
“how did the room get so white?” i asked.
a beautiful nurse was touching my skin. “these are vitamins,” she said, and drove the needle in.
it was raining. gigantic ferns leaned over us. the forest drifted down a hill. i could hear a creek rushing down among rocks. and you, you ridiculous people, you expect me to help you.”—jesus’ son (denis johnson)
but the ones who didn't make it, the ones who couldn't take it, so glad they have made it out alive..
i started back at my other old job this weekend. honestly, i thought i missed it a little bit when i wasn’t there. obviously i had forgotten how it tends to beat the shit out of you, especially if you’re in there by yourself - which i was sunday, from 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. . it’s amazing i made it back home as i felt like a zombie fresh from a grave. the tips made it worthwhile. i’m looking forward to making more money in the next 6 months.
i had the big midterm today, and it was fairly brutal. at least it’s over with. afterward i just sat outside in the sun for awhile. it’s 76 degrees today. in march.
“How do you let go of attachment to things? Don’t even try. It’s impossible. Attachment to things drops away by itself when you no longer seek to find yourself in them.”—Eckhart Tolle (via opendaylight)