Dear Damon King,
I just thought I'd follow the trend and also commend you on your photography skills. More than that, I like the person you are. Not like I know all of your eccentricities, but I think you're one smooth operator.
Reoccurring thoughts that never get much attention:
I really like the word percolate. It sounds like crisp water. I like that word almost as much as I like the word jealous—it reminds me of one of those really good peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches that are slightly cold, but not so cold that the peanut butter is hard.
For some reason one of the commercials for one of those 80’s, alternative-soul compilation albums is forever stuck in my head. Like the thought of the vertical marquee of names of songs and artists I’ve never heard of scrolling down the screen, accompanied by eerie, yet majestic music playing is cemented in my boredom thoughts. I remember a snippet of the commercial where it showed a man stuck in the desert searching for something… But you can never really tell what. Now for some reason, whenever I listen to really majestic, hallow sounding music like MGMT and Klaxons, I always think of my early childhood where I thought staying up until 11 was cool when those commercials came on. And then I remember the feeling of my eyes burning of strain and exhaustion and the memory goes down hill.
Speaking of my childhood, since the age of 7 I’ve been on an ongoing search for one of my green veined Wolverine toys and my blue blanket. I have a feeling my cousin stole the toy, and my mom secretly threw the blanket away. I secretly hold resentment against them for that.
I’ve come to the conclusion that We Belong Together will be that one song we know all the words to, and slow dance with our spouses to 30 years from now when we whip out our ancient iPods and rant about how music’s gone downhill, and how they don’t make music like this anymore. Our time for seasoned, cynical tirades seems way too close to me.
The words titty and cock make me cringe—along with: dandruff, the sight of urine on a toilet seat, the texture of clothing on my un-showered skin that has way too much fabric softener in it, and I always intensely cringe whenever I tell a bad joke followed by an awkward pause.
I really enjoy watching ostentatious, elegant women—they have to be above 40, though. Like really classy women who are almost delusional? I saw one in the movie I watched in Psychology (the movie was called K PAX) and I just enjoyed watching her. Other varying examples would be Elizabeth Taylor in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf; Anthony Hopkin’s daughter in Meet Joe Black; and flashy, overly perfumed women in church. Just don’t ask questions.
Cognizant complainers (very nice alliteration) I have no time for. Don’t ramble on. Don’t complain to me. Don’t bring me down. I don’t give a fuck.
Cognizant complainers: People who are completely aware—yet behave surprisingly helpless—when it comes to things that are completely preventable.
I’m stealing overwhelmingly, almost to the point of annoying, optimistic words from my English teacher, but: You can start your day over at any time. It sounds like some lame bull your momma feeds you after she dooms you to 20 mins of timeout, but really, it’s something I want to try and live by.
I have control over any and everything; any and everything is in my control. I don’t have the will power nor the patience for cognizant complainers.
Just got home from Gillian’s house. We spent about two hours taking some more Lookbook pictures—since it’s been about a month since I’ve posted some—and I knocked out this Digital Photography project on my personality. So we did 3 different looks that were pretty chill, and I took a series of pictures reflecting what I thought to be big parts of myself (that I could also portray in pictures), which were: jovial, silly, mischievous, mooch and intellectual.
I should be posting some of my Lookbook pictures tomorrow. I’m still amazed at how amazing Gillian’s camera really is; the pictures came out so nice.
This is kinda sketchy but… Working at AA I’ve gotten used to and have become really familiar with like 98% of the models they use. And there’s this one girl… I’ve… become obsessed with. Like off sneaks I stole a plaque we stopped using with a collage of her on it. If you’ve been to the store or even to the website, you know who the fuck this girl is.
So, yesterday I had one of those, "What the fuck, why do I work at American Apparel" moments, which truthfully hasn’t happened since I first got the job. But yesterday it happened again at the most random moment.
I was chilling at the desk talking to my boss… and then the phone rang. I think my boss was busy doing something with the cash register, so she picked up the phone and handed it to me. So I said, “Hello, this is American Apparel, Georgetown how may I help you?" (which already freaked me the fuck out saying…) and then it was this woman, trying SO hard to sound really proper on the other end asking about an application she sent in. Like she was fuckin’ rambling on and on. So I mouth, “Application" to my boss and she just shakes her head and says "Get rid of her”. Fuck. So I came up with some bullshit story about applications being reviewed and sending some in online—when in all reality it will never get looked at—just to appease this woman and get her to hang up not feeling like shit. Like that woman really thought she was speaking to someone important, thinking she’s making a good first impression and shit, when little does she know I’m fucking nobody, have been working there for barely a month, and have no impact in her getting a job.
And being who I am, of course, I spent the next 9 hours thinking about how this applies to life and how the rest of the world is like that. Yes, I think far too much. And right now everybody’s braking their back to get good grades, to get their little degree, to apply for a job. When in reality, when you apply for a job, they don’t give a fuck about how qualified you are, all the care about is how you look and how much they like you. A smart ass, qualified person who isn’t likable won’t get picked over the the descent, likable guy. Applications don’t mean shit, because all they do is stack up—so every time I feel like I ever get in a job for the rest of my life, it’ll probably be pure luck. I feel like life and my future career—whatever it may be—will all be driven on my personality, how much people like me, and how well I can talk myself into getting places. Fuck a piece of paper saying I went to such-and-such and you should hire me based off of that. I swear that doesn’t mean shit. It’s all luck, personality and connections.
I guess my conclusion would probably be: Fuck high-school, fuck college, and fuck the system.
My weekend has been workworkworkworkwork. Ever since I got my paycheck first thing on Friday, I haven’t even minded, though. Making money is a really good feeling. I have something that’s mine, and I worked to get it for myself. Which is a really obvious thing to say, but I’m always used to needing from other people—but for the first time, I have something that belongs to me and all I have to thank for it is myself.
Last night after Connor (http://conzi.tumblr.com) and I got off he picked me up from Glenmont station and we tried desperately to look for some descent moves. Jesse’s simple ass was supposed to come with us so we could find some Blair Prom after-party to go to, but of course his crazy ass African parents—once again—kept him in for the night. So Connor and I just went to McDonald’s, then chilled in my parking lot for a good 1 1/2 talking about life and shit. It was pretty refreshing.
And now I’m trying to get some bloggin’ in before I have to get ready and be off to work.
This is M.I.A.’s newest single. I think she probably came out with this because her last one was a pretty big flop, and this appeals to a larger demographic. It’s different, but it sounds like something Lady GaGa or Rihanna or [ insert any of the other futuristic, club, electronic, pop stars ] could have sang on. I like it though.
It kinda sucks for artists who use to base their careers on being edgy and alternative, because that’s the mainstream thing to do now. Irony.
I’ve been off TV for a whiiiile now. For some reason, I’m back on it like crazy. Mainly with MTV, though. I just got Comcast (don’t ask why, it’s some shit), and I’ve been on On Demand for atleast 9 hrs in the last 3 days. The RW/RR Challenge: Fresh Meat is epic. I’m syced as shit to watch the new episode tonight. And now a new season of Jersey Shore is supposed to be coming on. I wasn’t in to the last season, well I didn’t watch it AT ALL, which is the main reason why I want to watch this new season in the first place. To see what all the hype is about.
These last couple of days I’ve been rambling on and on to Somala about how passionately I’m against college. I’m about to go far away from home, be broke as shit in college, going deeper and deeper in to debt every day, to get out and have to immediately start paying it off with a job I’m over qualified for to pay my bills and start living. I agree with what my friend Bryndon said though (http://becookin.tumblr.com), which was basically: Whatever you think will happen will happen.
Which reminds me of this quick talk I had about existentialism in school today. Whatever I say is. So I should just be positive, and take command of my future. Fuck yah!
For some reason there has been an overwhelming uproar of the word “hipster” in my life these last few days. I really hate the word, and I hate the thought of me thinking about people thinking about me like that. Or even more confusingly… I hate the thought of people thinking I think of myself like that. WHICH I DON’T! I don’t know. Not to sound like a super cliche faggot, but I hate titles. I never really considered myself one, or associated myself with that demographic, but this kid at my school, Danny Lee, said something profound today: "I don’t care if people call me a hipster. I wear cool, hip clothes"
I really want to give some serious that to that point, but I was just sitting here, thinking about something I could blog about before bed, and that’s the only thing that came to mind.
People are fucking weird.
I never really understood why we distinguish ourselves from animals; we’re so damn primitive. And after this whole Freudian “Unconscious drives” lesson I had in Psych a few weeks back, I just feel like everything we do is just… so… pre-determinedly… weird. Like being weird is in our DNA or something.
I watched an hour and a half of The City earlier (don’t ask why), and Olivia is a fucking conniving demon for no reason. Like, why? We get dressed up, take pictures and congregate in dark rooms and hump each other, and then call the shit prom. Like, why? Why do we like watching HD, modern shows like Planet Earth, and try and culture ourselves on the mysteries of this earth that we think we’re so damn familiar with?
None of this may seem like it really connects, but it’s under one big ass genre in my head titled, Why the fuck are we like this (appropriately in big, glowing, neon letters right next to WTF is reality).
I really don’t even know where I’m going with this. People are just weird. That is all.
I miss the days when I was actually an inhabitant of White Oak. I live here, but I don’t really live here. My place of residence is here, but if I’m actually chilling, it’s never around here. I don’t know anybody from around here. I miss my Middle School days. Back when I was tight as shit with my old friends Crystal, Jordan and Ny’Asia. I swear those were the golden ages of my life. Just roaming, getting in to no good. Crumping in front of Jehovah’s Witnesses, getting chased through buildings by grumpy old men, playing manhunt in huge ass buildings, making missions to 7-Eleven, going to Sears for no apparent reason. It was a bunch of down time that was great looking back on it. Every summer I just woke up, walked outside, and was guaranteed a good day. Laughing, joking, being stupid. Everything now-a-days is just too much. Everybody’s just too much. Nobody’s lighthearted. Everything is too serious. I miss the old days.
There’s this girl who works at my job named Emilee, and she’s one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever met. When I first met her she seemed like one of those stereotypical AA girls with no personality, probably stuck up and nothing to ‘em—but she’s cool as hell. Tomorrow’s her last day and I have to say I’m going to miss her, even though I’ve only been there for 3 weeks. She’s going to Japan to teach english to impoverished children. How fucking interesting. She just made me realize—as fucking stupid and cliche and stupid and retarded and stupid as it sounds—that you can’t judge a book by its cover. Fuck I hate that saying. I guess a better way to say it is that there’s something deeper to everyone.
I’ve finally stopped thinking so much. I’m finally living in the moment. I’m finally off of being so analytical of everything and everyone. I’m not disingenuous anymore. And I’m very happy. I don’t know what clicked—well, I do, but that requires a much longer post—but I’m glad it did, because life is a lot more… Contenting.
I was listening to this on my way home last night when I felt like I was dying from exhaustion and my failing immune system. It put me in a really weird mood. I can’t even say I like this song. I just enjoy listening to it.
Maury is the most annoying fucking thing in this world
The people on this show are the biggest pieces of ignorant, annoying, illogical shit in the world.
They come on the show all doll’d up and shit, thinking they’re all fly. They make these ridiculous montages about how terrible their significant other is. Then this overzealous ass crowd sits there and eggs on everything. Booing at the stupid, teenage sluts who want children. They cheer on the girl who’s miserable because her husband won’t stop cheating with her mother. Like…
If the person is so terrible, why are you with them? If they use you for money, and sleep with their ex, and can’t get a job, then why are you with them? Why did you bring them on the fucking show? Why are YOU are the fucking show?
Andrea inspired me (http://trust-thyself.tumblr.com). I started thinking about what kind of off-beat, interesting characteristics I like about people. And I really don’t know, so I’m just gonna type away until I finish my unorganized laundry list of uncorrelated traits:
I like people who have a relaxing air about themselves. I like people who are forth-right. I like people who get things don’t and don’t bitch. I like people who are down to earth. I like people who are realistic. I like people with patience. I like people people who see humor in everything. I like people who don’t take anything seriously. I like people who see the good in everything. I like people who see something deeper in everything. I like people who expect the best. I like who aren’t disingenuous (double negative). I like people who keep it a hunnit. I like people who are exactly like me. I like people who are nothing like me.
Today was such a fucking unexpected success. Woke up (tired as shit). Was NOT looking forward to taking my AP World test today. I had not studied, literally, at all. I got a 2 on the Mock. I was looking forward to hell. Sleep deprived, drunken hell. It wasn’t. Surprisingly I was focused as hell. I was tearin’ through all dem junts. Finished with a little time to spare. I think I got, most likely, a 3. Which is completely okay with me.
Got home early since I didn’t have to go back to school after the exam… And my new lap top came! Supa’ syce like shit. Downloaded a million and one things, got used to it—and even though it’s not the Mac I wanted, it’s still pretty amazing. PCs really aren’t that bad. Windows 7 is pretty legit.
My aunt got home (since she’s been staying with me since she moved back from Georgia), and she took me to go get all my prom shit. I was planning on getting slacks and an oxford from American Apparel and a blazer or something form H&M or Heritage, but I ended up getting everything from American Apparel in Downtown Silver Spring. The people there are kinda crud. They were being all cold and impersonal with me until I told them I worked at the Georgetown one. I think I might apply to transfer there at the beginning of next year. But anyway, I got a pull over, cream, blue stripped sweater, with a short sleeved, white oxford underneath, midnight blue slacks and a heathered, red bow-tie. It sounds crazy, but I think it looks nice all together. Got all that shit for 87 bucks. Gah damn discounts are the shit.
Now I’m home, making a daily blog post for the first time on my new laptop. Exams are over. I’m finally prepared for prom. And my weekend’s looking bright.