You remember that "weight" thing I posted a couple months ago?

EPIC FAIL

Yeah, I've gotten lazy... And really let myself go during the holidays... BUT I plan on jumping back on the horse and riding it home!

Eventually...

Okay, tomorrow. I really need it.

... you know, it's partially your fault. I told you guys before that I needed motivation on your part, and I got zero feedback on it!

But then again, I doubt that I have that wide of a readership... There are a couple of you out there reading, this though. I'm sure of it. I just wish I knew who.

I shouldn't blame you guys for my laziness, I'm sorry.

And I think I may be getting my Scholastic Fingers back - you know, the ones I use to type papers and such. A Midsummer Night's Dream has plagued me recently; I'm supposed to analyze a passage out of it rhetorically via Ethos, Logos and Pathos - a quick flashback to my Junior Year in Mr. Jason Charles, for those of you who remember - and I had a terrible time coming up with a thesis.

But, voila! I've found a hunch, and I need to explore it!

On another random note, I need to work on my script-writing craft. I've got books on it I should really look into, and its the same text that the screenwriting class at UCI is using... How fortunate for me. :D

It's late, and I feel a bit tired. Note to self, however: window mural is blank. Must decorate with random pop culture. Over.

Usually late night like these...

most especially in Diamond Bar, California - I look outside my window and start to worry as I can see the sun rise beyond the horizon and over the hills.

But then I check the time, and realize that it's just light pollution.

Reminds me of the camping trips I always take several times a year. It's weird, but one of the reasons I don't like camping is because it reminds me of my own mortality. I blame it on the night sky; being able to see all those stars, staring into the infinite. Subconsciously I feel how small I am against the vast measureless darkness that we call the universe, and how my existence doesn't really mean much in the indefinitely broad measure of things. And then I start to feel a need for the city life again; man-made walls surround me, protect me from this constant reminder of the nihilism rooted deep within my mind.

I take comfort in hearing the freeway outside of my bedroom window at home. It's not right outside of my window; it's at a distance - a mile or two - far away enough for it to be soft white noise but close enough for me to know that there are people riding man-made, 12 tons of raw power out there on the road. Even at night. I grew up with that sound, slept to it, lived with it. I guess I take comfort in the inventions and constructions of the human mind - although, not so much the creator of all these artificial creations.

But by all means, that doesn't mean I don't enjoy camping with friends. I just enjoy the city more. I'm a city boy, and I grew up that way. I like my concrete walls, and I like to decorate them with artistic, creative practices and cultures of all sorts - both inventions of the human mind. It keeps my mind busy and helps me forget that I am really just one person amongst the canvas of trillions of lifeforms on this planet - and quite possibly, one against the trillion trillion trillion in this universe - struggling for survival. I am one being against the billions of humans on this planet trying to find meaning. God, that's so fucking scary.

I write this after a late night spent at another midnight screening of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. My thoughts came to a nihilistic approach as I rode home from the theater in Claremont, looking outside towards the artificial night sky done by light pollution. My thoughts - they traveled to the many camping trips I've been too, and the many nights where I've just lied there in my sleeping bag or my air bed - and look up towards the fabric ceiling of my tint and think to myself, "There's a thin layer of fabric between me and the infinite that is the sky, space, the universe - staring right back at me."

And then I fall asleep letting that thought haunt me for the rest of the night. And hell, my life even. I've just never really communicated these thoughts to anybody because well... fuck, it's quite a buzzkill for a thrill-seeker like me. But it haunts me still, to this day...

Rambling

I seem to have a bad habit of breaking promises. Its not like I mean to do it intentionally - it's just that everytime I try to make a promise, I always end up not going through with it. Even though I have good intentions (most of the time) and have the will to go through, there always seems to be circumstances that stops me from making any progress on the promises. For example, this blog.

I should get back into blogging. It's good practice for writing. It's trendy with the whole Web 2.0 culture. And I hear there's a scholarship floating around for bloggers. But I don't know - I don't like the idea of exposing my life to other people. Strangers. Random acquaintances who just happen to stumble across this page. Or a possible employer. There are stories of people being fired because they blogged about how much they hate their boss.

It's funny how blogs have turned into a public diary. Didn't diaries used to be private - meant to keep hidden our true thoughts and secrets from the world? And yet people treat these blogs as if they're their own diaries. Exposing themselves more than the pervert that visits the park during the daytime. Am I the only one who finds a problem in this? Both the pervert and people exposing themselves?

But then again, I guess that's the whole point of it. Tell everybody what's going on in your life, your opinions, and whoever listens, they just happen to. And -

Where am I going with this? I honestly don't know. Stream of consciousness. Just writing whatever comes off the top of my head. It's odd, because looking back at my previous entries I can't help but think "God, what an idiot... What was I hoping to accomplish with these?"

I'm rambling. Who honestly wants to hear people ramble? Well, obviously you do. You're still reading this right now. But I don't understand it - why listen to somebody ramble if they're not even as amusing as a Bruce Campbell movie?

Ramble. Funny word. You ever just say a word to yourself, look at its spelling, and somehow it looks and just seems alien to you. Happens to me. Happening to me right now with the word "ramble." Ram-bull. Rambo. Ramses. Chef Ramsey. Chef. South Park. Central Park. Central Perk. Friends.

Ah, I understand my problem. I'm tired. I usually organize my thoughts before working on a blog entry... But I haven't done it in so long, I don't think it matters anymore. Anybody will write anything, and if somebody finds it amusing, well I guess the entry has served its purpose. Purpose. I need one of those. Maybe as much as I need a "good time" if you catch my drift. Yeah, you know what I mean.

Disneyland.

I wonder if I should put a pic on this blog somewhere... Pictures are always something nice to look at. Great way of catching somebody's attention. But then again, that's too much work.

I got it. No wonder why I stopped working on blogs. I put too much work into them. I mean, hell, why did I do that? Was I desperately looking for an audience? Why am I talking about myself?

God I need some sleep. You know what? Sleep sounds good now. I'll try to post another entry... Blogging good practice... but sleeping is even better...