Oh, the places we will go.

This will be a never ending post, that will be updated whenever it pleases us to add something to it.

Für Elise

1. Stockholm, Sweden
2. Ireland. Not Northern Ireland. Catholic Ireland.
3. Fashion District, Los Angeles, CA
4. Orleans, France
5. Budapest, Hungary

You don't have a clue.

My ass hurts.
My eyes burn.
My roommate is coming back tomorrow, and I have a raging mess going out of control in the room.

I think I should sleep more than anything, but I can't do that. Nope, because I must write. It's been over ten days since I have updated, not good for me to hold back on this.

I was thinking, back when I was on the bus from the airport on Wednesday, after I dropped my mother off at the airport, how difficult it was saying goodbye. I kept turning from my seat to wave goodbye to her before the 194 departs from Bay 1. She was standing there, with a big smile, letting out a puff every so often from her cigarette. I couldn't help but have that big lump begin to build up in my throat. That painful lump that forms when you are about to cry, but you're trying not to let your emotions show. It took a few deep breaths, a 4% volume increase on my iPod, and about 10 minutes drive in the bus for that feeling to go away.

I began to think, did I really want to go home? No. Am I just convincing myself that home is not a place that I would like to be? Maybe. I keep telling myself, I am never moving back to California. How much I hate living in LA- it's too expensive, the people are superficial. The weather is always hot (it is a desert, and I am no fan of a desert). But... it's where my family lives. Where my heart grew up. Why is it that I still have a piece of it there? Is it because I've only half moved out? I'm moving back for the summer only... but, I just think, why do people, who don't have traumatic upbringings in their hometown, tend to have a love-hate relationship with it? They say they need to get away... but they really don't mind going back?

I know that if I went back home for my Spring Break, after a few days, I'd need to leave. I can feel my blood pressure begin to boil-- not a good sign. The anxiety levels are not good when I go back home. Things are so much different here, and this constant transition, this flow... I don't know how I have been so lucky and so spoiled to have been uprooted and placed here. I have learned so much from so many people (despite what the grades say) and I am honestly convinced that I will never move to California again.

I am so sick of trying to decide if I am homesick or not.
I need some damned sleep.

Hej hej,
Any

When the Empire Strikes Back.

My own anxieties are what is holding me back from traveling to get a decent lunch. The minutes are ticking away, and it is getting closer to dinner.

It ain't easy being a poor college student.
It's even more difficult when you're a lazy one.

I think I am going to head down to the supermarket... it'll all be worth it.
So hungry...

Hej hej,
Any

And so it ends.

The thick layer that appears to endlessly hover over Seattle was generous enough to part it's clouds for a split second this afternoon. For a brief second, on this overcast day, I walked out of the building, took a step forward off the steps, and was bathing in those incredible rays.

"Amen, Amen, Amen!" I shouted. That glorious synchronization of celebration could not have been timed more perfectly. That feeling of satisfaction without ever worrying about the overall result... I don't believe I can ever have it be duplicated ever again. Mind you, it was probably the longest lasting split second of my life so far... oh how to have it contained as a memory! It will never be bittersweet!

I cannot believe that I have taken my last maths exam... it's truly remarkable. March 16, 2009, will never be forgotten as the day that ended my misery with a lifelong subject I have never got along with very well.

It's weird to think how much I learned from this class... the last two years of my high school career completely shattered all hope for having some care in the mathematical field. It started to be somewhat interesting when I was a sophomore, with one of my most influential math teachers, Mr. Agnew. He had a "I don't take shit from anyone. You are going to learn this, hell or high water," attitude, and actually made sure you learned the material. If you were struggling with the material, he had no problem sitting down with you and explaining how things operated.

As for my Junior and Senior year teacher, who shall always be unnamed on the internet, to spare her (I really am too kind sometimes), was the least agreeable math teacher I had ever met. You went to her for help... and sometimes it would work, but most of the time, she said, "Look at your notes! It's in your notes!"

Brief soliloquy:

Now listen, lady. I have already looked over my notes so much, that I have them practically memorized. Now, if I new that my answer to this problem was unlocked through the power of my well taken notes, I wouldn't be here, right now, asking you for help! How in the world do you expect me to get past this mental block without you nudging to me, suggesting to me-- leading me in some valid direction?! It's ridiculous how you can say that the answer to my problem is in my notes! I don't even understand my god damn notes half of the time, because you wrote them. You're damn lucky that the vice principal is the head of the math department, because I have been trying, these final moments of my high school career, to get your crazy-ass fired!

Maybe not so brief. As you have read, I continue to have bitterness toward this lady, and I have great sadness for those who continue to be taught by her...

Well, at the end of my math-learning career, I felt I ended on the highest note of my life. I got a lot of this class, it was actually quite interesting. It may have been because of the discussion ideas in the things we read in English class... but it gave me a whole new perspective on life. It really did- it altered so many of my views. I cannot believe how much I have changed, not even finished with my first year in this college experience. It's quite frightening!

Well, I must be off. Toodles.


Hej hej,
Any

Mz Pauline Diaz

Happy Birthday, dahling.

How 'bout some credit now where credit is due?

Here is to my writing exercises.

I am on fire.

I am writing left and write today. It feels great... is this what it feels to constantly be writing every waking moment again? I love it! I had a few years where I knew I liked to write, but I would just be lazy and not want to record my thoughts daily... even weekly... monthly. It just began to stretch out. Now, it's becoming more frequent again.

But, what to write about? I am thinking that I am going to have to start browsing some creative writing blogs with exercises for me to begin trying... please hold for a moment.


Hej hej,
Any

Do not watch me at 2:04 AM

It's been a while since I have posted any visual, and or audio goodness, so, I have this for you. Just don't watch it alone in your room with the lights low, or off, at 2:04 in the morning. Karin Dreijer Andersson's side project, Fever Ray, has been receiving a lot of buzz lately- they are being posted everywhere... might as well tack it on my wall, too.


If I Had A Heart from Fever Ray on Vimeo.

Entropy.

Entropy:
It sounds like an Andrew Bird song. Or, better yet, the subject of an Andrew Bird song. Maybe the inspiration for an entire album by him.

The word entropy was brought up for discussion today in my maths class, believe it or not. My course is linked with my literature class, so we often bring up pieces from our readings into the math lessons. It makes math a lot more enjoyable for the mathematically challenged. After reading Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49 the discussion of Maxwell's Demon where a physicist attempted to violent the second law of thermodynamics... which increases entropy. The decaying of an organized system... it just sounds so wretched and beautiful.

This evening, to further our topic on entropy, our professor emailed us a follow-up thought that I began to think about whilst having a late-night shower. Here it is:

3/10/09

Part of what’s so compelling about Pynchon’s metaphorical deployment of entropy (both physical and informational) is that it can begin to take over how you see the world.

Even each of our lives can (should?) be understood as a temporary stand against entropy, our biological existence an extremely organized (and bogglingly complex) organism (note the shared root in “organized” and “organism”) that houses whatever “mind” is (whether it is a localized lack of informational entropy, physical entropy, or both at once, is a debate long waged by the philosophers (though using other words, naturally)). We continue to exist, preserving our anti-entropic state, by consuming other organized bits of matter (plants, animals, etc.) and using them to preserve our organization (mental, genetic) for the time being, excreting those previously organized bits of matter in more entropic, less organized forms. (Pay attention to that: it is where we can truly grasp that preserving our own organization in the face of encroaching entropy requires us to impose entropy upon other organizations.)

In the end, of course, even as we live entropy encroaches: our skin wrinkles, our back aches, our eyes lose their acuity, some of us develop cancer (a disorganization (increase in entropy) of the proper instructions for cell growth) or other diseases. We persist, we survive, keeping entropy at arm’s length as long as we can. If we live long enough, of course, the informational entropy begins to wreak havoc in our mind, randomness and failed connections become more and more common there, memories are scrambled. Finally, we cease to draw in oxygen and combine it with carbon and we die, and all the marvelous information encoded in our flesh and brain begins instantly to break down, to rot. Entropy will now have its way rapidly.

What then do we learn? How does this information aid us?

Perhaps we should simply take care to savor our organized and anti-entropic days. For now we can exchange a sober nod with Entropy, a recognition without welcome.

David

He has a valid point here. It is interesting to see entropy being viewed in a sense of human life. We build up against this disorganization. We collect ourselves to be strong until our bodies can no longer handle it, and we decay... slowly die. I do like to think we start out against entropy, until we reach our physical prime (ages 16 to about 30) and then things just start to crash. But, the human race has begun to have advancements in our lifespan. Will we reach an adaptation where we can eventually live as long as trees? Should we stop trying to make ourselves immortal by trying to find cures for every harmful thing or defect on the planet? This human entropy is supposed to happen. It is a cycle... but people do not want to accept dying. They don't want wrinkles, they don't want to age. They all wish to stay forever young.

I do have many moments where I think that, of all the things I have fulfilled in my life, I feel I have made a lot of safe choices. Now, I'm thinking, were those the best choices? I only live once- where do I want to go before my system shuts down? What do I want to accomplish before I start to spiral from the pinnacle of my prime? Many, many things.

There isn't anything to be worried about- if you screw things up, you do. There are over six billion people on earth. It'd be very hard to piss off every single one of them. Take a chance, here or there. I am preaching to the choir... but this is all starting to sound like a smart way to approach life.


Well then, what is stopping me?
More importantly, what is stopping all of us?

Hej hej,
Any

Untraditional.

This entry is being written in a very non-traditional Any Syler way.

Though it is still directly from my brain, through my nerves and out my fingertips on these black keys, I am writing this with out being on the blogger interface. It is being written on a Word Document, due to the fact that I am unable to connect myself to the internet. This may or may not be a good thing. I am bummed that Starbucks does not offer free wi-fi, it’s “cramping my style” (I’ve been saying this very freely recently) but it is also taking away one of the biggest distractions in my life.

Oh, my addiction to the internet. It isn’t a healthy one. It makes projects that should take you two hours ends up spiraling to be a six-hour ordeal. Then again, I am avoiding my maths homework by typing up a new entry onto a Word document, in order to have an excuse to go onto the internet in the future. Gah, the infinite circle.

Hej hej,
Any

Joe O's and Bananas

29 degrees.
Seattle, are you kidding me?
I have never seen a sunny day, and the temperature at 29 degrees Fahrenheit. Ever.

Off to brush up on Indirect Discourse with an Infinitive, Subject Accusative. Quiz time in 40.



This is going to be a rough and mysterious morning.


Hej hej,
Any

I hate people.

You read that correctly. I hate people. Though, in my nature, I cannot be some misanthropic lonely soul in this world. Let me correct myself, I love people- people who deserve to be loved. And only a few people on my list of people to love that are complete jerkinthefaces from time to time have my eternal love for them. Those would be some arsey family members.

But, I am starting to become so confused by all of the people around me. I used to be so good at understanding people before I got to know them. I had this sixth sense where I could feel their intentions and spirit before I even really knew much about them. Now, it's gone down the drain. I get to know people, or about them, and they turn out to be so different from what I expected. I am judging them... ahh... I see what I am doing here. I have fallen out of my hard foundations I tried so hard to create over the summer- start anew. It's crumbling fast, I am beginning to no longer want to know anyone new.

It's so much easier to look at someone on the surface, and paint out an elaborate, dreamy (or even dramatic) background attached to their face. Maybe that's why I love photos. You see the surface of someone, and you can see their pain, you can see their joys. Yet... I have never once questioned, "Do I really know as much about this person as I think I do?"

I never do.
I don't know much about many people, in fact. It's taken years to pry stories from my mother's mouth about her past. Same goes for my grandfather. I have grown up with such cryptic and mysterious people, is this what has led me my wild imagination? Is this why I like thinking about people I don't know? Or, am I feeding gossip to my own mind?

Oh, where this is going, I know it's going to spiral into a crazy mess. I don't believe in the whole "once you understand yourself, you can understand others easily." It's a bunch of bunk, and even the people who recite this know they are full of it. Nobody will understand you, you will never understand yourself, and you will not understand anyone more than you know about them.

Upon thinking more... suppose I am enraged with people because my little fantasies become ruined when I get to know them.

I'll have you know it, I don't mind living on a Scottish moor to my dieing days, cold and locked away writing by candlelight, and thinking about what 'real' and 'infinity' mean... and this completely contradicts the opening of this entry. I can't make up my damned mind about things. It's infuriating.

I believe I've jumped in a puddle, and I can't get out of it. It's no big deal, but I'm crying over it anyways.

(exeunt)

Hej hej,
Any