Meh I just feel like writing random things. I'm having kind of a blah Friday night here with George (actually, it's just me, George is too cool to hang out with me so he's chillin' on the bed). Listening to the few tracks available right now by Evelyn Evelyn. Watched 'Capturing The Friedmans' whilst working on an art piece (believe it or not, inspired by Mr. Picasso, even though the actual piece really has nothing to do with him or his work... figure that one out... I haz artistic license bitches). Bob Dylan's on now.
I'm simultaneously gathering video, audio, and images of the good doctor (Hunter S. Thompson, of course) to put on a disc for future enjoyment. I just don't get tired of that man and his genius. He really is beyond fascination and more closely definable in spiritual terms... a deity... more important than sliced bread. Or maybe this is just the fixative fumes talking - they're pretty strong. The can says not to smoke...
I wish I had bought that bottle of wine after all.
Know what's ridiculous? The fact that the majority of us westerners live in perpetual preparation for the future, whether it be the next half hour from now, the next month, the next decade, doesn't matter, it's what we do. And we do this until we die, which means we've never really lived because we were too busy preparing. And the really dumb part about that is we're not psychic, we don't know exactly what is going to happen in the future and we all know that plans never go the way they're "supposed" to. What is the point of that? We live in anxiety, the giant 'to-do' lists dangling above our heads, telling us we'd better not (Steve Sinnicks now) waste any time because we have to get these things done first and then we can enjoy ourselves... lmfao I don't know about you, but I've never not had a to-do list. Sure I get stuff done - but more stuff comes up to replace that stuff I just did and there are always things on that list that sit there FOREVER, taunting me, making me feel bad, lingering at the back of my mind when I'm trying to sleep at night and meanwhile I'm wondering why in the world I have insomnia or why in the world I'm so tense.
Instead of wasting our very short lives worrying about what needs to be accomplished, we should be enjoying the fact that we're alive and actually LIVE. And sure, we can be a bit anal sometimes about getting stuff done, but I really think that should count for the minority of our time, not the majority. While I'm aware, lovely readers, that I'm far from the first person to point this out (Courtney Love now), these thoughts have recently made their meaning much more relevant to me and they are not just an important philosophy to strive for, so much as a major key in having a reason to get up every morning (I'm the kind of person who needs life to be meaningful, and if there isn't a real meaningful purpose or reason to live, well, that's just fucking depressing. I also know these thoughts cannot really be stated enough, we all need reminders.
Of course, all of this makes much more sense within a Buddhist, dialectic context: namely mindfulness. Okay, /super enlightening speil... now.
What else is on my mind as of late... men. I'm sure I'm going to get myself into trouble for something I'm about to say, but don't I always? I am, after all, the queen of inappropriateness (note the ego).
I've been really pissed at the male species these days because it seems to me, at least in my experiences, that men have the ability to find extra special ways of being douchebags. And I love men, I love men very much, and I'm not the type of person to typecast a whole group based on the behaviour of a few, but I am batting like, 99/100 here people. It definitely boggles my mind. (hey! fuck you Alexis On Fire! They only have samples on their MySpace page, pffft. Just kidding, love you George! But I'm putting on Sarah Blackwood now...) So anyway, I'm a big fat sucker. I get stung by men over and over and yet I keep coming back for more. Okay, maybe I am at least a little bit masochistic, but my tendencies usually go more along the lines of having my nipples pinched, not being lied to, used, blown off, etc.etc.
The only conclusions I've been able to come to are:
1. Men truly are so completely different than women, at least in the way they communicate, act, and often times think. Duh, we all know that right?
2. Men aren't nearly as brave as we think they are - muscle does not equal heart of steel and so they have many fears and anxieties (just like we do) which seem to be expressed in ways that tend to piss women off.
3. Why? Well I'm assuming it's because society conditions them to "be men" and not show fear. They're not encouraged to express themselves so how can we expect them to be able to? I'm not saying they're cavemen who can't communicate, I'm just saying that they're more likely to shut down or fly the coop if fear or difficulty arises.
On the other hand, there does seem to be a plethora of men out there who actually ARE fucking jerks. I hate to say it, but most of my friends are male and most of them are the ones confirming this conclusion. Like, lying to someone to get them into bed? Yeah, that's a jerk thing to do. Fucking jerk.
This line of thought doesn't really have a point, mostly because I have no idea what the moral of the story is, or how one can avoid the jerks or how men can all of the sudden learn to express themselves in healthy ways. I would like to add, however, that I'm fully aware that us women are nuts as well, we're just nuts in completely different ways then men... both sexes are fucked in our own special ways. But if you're a guy and you're reading this, what the hell man? what the hell...
P.S. I think there should be a 'Thank You' card or something like that for really really good oral sex.