Dear, I'm not sure how to say your name I hope I meet you one day.
I needed to use your computer to write a bit. Here's a broad recap of who I am. I needed some self affirmation.
Six weeks ago I felt like dying. (For these reason and a few other ones resulting in utter hopelessness.)
"Don't wanna be an American Idiot"
"I'm not sure where I should start", a reoccurring thought I just had. Six weeks ago until three weeks ago, it greeted me every morning for a solid week. Yet, I felt like each morning it gradually got worse. I genuinely didn't feel as if I was perpetuating the fact that students in college or at least in the liberal arts college I go to (Bard), are put through a cheese grater. What I mean is, we are forced (and privileged enough) as big hunks of cheese to be pushed up against sharp metal in order to shed pieces of ourselves.
Side-note: I just put on "American Idiot" by Green Day.
I like music. I like that it can make me feel things. I write music because it's a good balance between feeling and how something should feel. It's good a training exercise for empathy- I guess. Well, I want make movies. I think it's good that others feel. I don't necessarily want others to empathize with "me", though. More so what I have to say. So, I make Youtube videos. It's mainly footage from my computer or video camera of me singing with my guitar or ukulele, but I started off with filming my adventures.
(check me out on Youtube: Gaby Vera)
"Television Dreams of Tomorrow"
My adventures primarily consisted of my last real best friend and boy friend. I met him exactly three years ago, tomorrow. December 21st, the shortest day of the year. And coincidentally the day this era ends. For some reason it is rumored that the world will end, or some natural disaster will occur or something due to the fact that the Mayan calendar ends on 1.3.0.0.0.0. That sounds about right-130,000 years before something horrible happens to the dominating civilization on earth. I didn't just assume that number either. I was taught mayan math in school. I went to a "weird" little private school called The Ross from 11 years old to when I was 16.
Side-note: Last year as a freshman, I took a class called "The Physics of Stuff" and I learned you can't force two of the same ends of a magnet together. It doesn't create a circuit of ions moving in one direction. Electromagnetism. This is pretty much where we get electricity. Heating up a magnet or a metallic substance gives it a really fast circuit, thus giving off energy or light, but not always. Some energy, like heat doesn't give off light- those that do are called photons. Photons are like bursts of energy being released from the nucleus- a cluster of protons and neutrons being surrounded and encased by electrons. These photons come shooting out of atoms that can't capture more neutrons to balance out the additional protons (made up of sacks consisting of three quark, up quarks or down quarks- Charm, strange, top or bottom, that are being exchanged) when given a strong force (made of friction from a generator). Lightbulbs are beautiful. They refract the energy all around their bulb. I use to fix lamps. At "The Lamp Hospital".
Anyways, I believe the poles have been shifting until they came into existence.
Ions in a magnet, come from the ions in earth's magnetic field produced by gravities pull on earth's dense molten metal core. That is why metals are heavy. Not all but some. Usually those that are can be magnetized. To magnetize something means to move all a metals ions in one direction. Well, while spinning spherically and rotating the planet, this molten lava is cooling. As it cools it gathers on opposite ends of of the sphere. Over time the collection of cooling lava pools north ions in the direction the south pole and visa vera. Eventually, I believe the concentration ions in the opposite direction will force the poles to switch. But I don't think it'll be that clean and easy. Shits gonna get messy. Internet, radio, telephones, cars, electricity, will all be out.
Well,
Three weeks ago I said "Fuck the System".
Man has become machine. He is forced to live up to a standard. A set of rules or conventions, code of conduct- social norms. Great expectations and false hopes, like love in a place like this. Love in all senses of the term. Passion. There is no time for passion. Enjoyment has been crammed into 5 hours a night plus dinner and a shower- maybe a movie or some other consumer activity. Great. It's not our fault our economy sucks (due to options like credit) but we have to do all the buying now? Really? So- I'm eventually going to live off the land. If the world doesn't fall to shambles tomorrow.
Recently I've decided to live.
Everybody thinks I'm crazy because I want to get the fuck out of town and go camping- where I won't be using electricity anyways. And if the planet some how tips over in the night- Well, I'll have like a ton of trees and shit to grab on to.
NASA put out an interview convincing people (and conspiracists like me) that nothing was going to happen. But NASA explores outer-space. Not necessarily inner-space. I mean- they do physics. But they work on projects. And every body does. And being goal oriented is good, when it pertains to you and your preferences. (Or me and mine). But sometimes it's hard to see something when you're looking really closely somewhere even though it's staring you right in the face.
"Hey can you hear the sound of the stereo? The subliminal mind fuck America.
Welcome to a new kind of tension, (i'm not sure if he's saying) all across any ambition (or I don't see enough ambition)- everything isn't meant to be okay"
I Can't Talk To The Boy I Love Because We Hang Out With "Different" People.
LIFE IS SUFFERING.
LETS FUCKING DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. CELEBRATE OR MAKE SHIT
START SHIT,
PAINT SHIT,
THROW SHIT,
RE-USE SHIT,
SCULPT SHIT,
CREATE SHIT,
GET OVER SHIT,
SHIT OVER.
Change.
And something that hasn't?
Nothing.
But there is one fact,
That remains.
And that is
I love you
And tried to set you free.
But at some point I couldn't
Nor even be me.
It's your (excuse me)
"fucking" sympathy
It took its hand
One afternoon
And reached
Inside
My chest
And mind's erupt
Dead already
Hopeless.
But you are
The leaking faucet
In my kitchen
That helps me
Fall asleep.