cathartic

Someone once told me that I was a poetic drunk and that I should blog whenever I'm inebriated. Hence, that's how this blog was born. Not to say that I ALWAYS blog drunk; the last time I drank was way back in September, a period of sobriety equivalent to eons considering that I'm a college student. No, when I'm drunk I always tend to expound on things I don't normally talk about, aka my personal problems.

I don't really talking about stuff that concerns me. I mean, I'll complain about work or school or whatever, but the bigger things, the things people would consider as crises in their lives, I tend to keep those to myself. It's more out of politeness and tact than anything else; I mean, no one wants to hear constantly about another person's problems considering that they have their own to deal with. On top of that, it's not like the problem magically goes away when we let it out into the air. If anything, when we talk about it with other people, we're simply letting off a little steam, which will come back eventually, and burdening our patient listener with another concern for us.

So anyway, I tend to keep things that deeply, truly concern me to myself. It sucks, and I definitely know that it's not healthy, which is why I only talk to people I deeply trust about certain things. If I were to put it on levels 1 to 10, I guess the extent that people know about my problems would be about... level 7? Stuff that's sad but not necessarily tragic, stuff that concerns but isn't life ruining. In essence, normal, everyday crises that everyone experiences deeply in their day to day.

Well actually, when I said that I don't want to burden people, that's a lie. I look at people and I suddenly want to stop everything, to try to get them to understand me. I want to let go of everything at once and just have a good conversation with someone. The thing is, I don't really get people. I know this sounds angsty and preteeny or whatever, but it's true. I realize I'm not necessarily someone that can get along with everyone, and I think others can sense that in me. Still though, on another level: I don't want people to know too much about me, because it scares me to know how much someone knows of my vulnerablity.

I tend to get my thoughts organized around writing. I never really wrote this way-memoir style-until I started this blog. Like, I never really committed myself and just myself into writing. You know, instead of trying to establish a narrative and a character and a story, I'm simply unfurling words to reveal me. It's a very cathartic feeling, and it's a lot less stressful than writing fiction. For one thing, I'm less concerned about diction and syntax; why would you care about organization when all you're doing is transferring your literal thoughts onto paper? For another thing, there's no finer details to concern myself with; I'm just writing. It's like talking to my screen: spontaneous and easy.

That's why I feel like more of me comes out when I write. It's like I'm talking to myself. I know that this blog is public, and that anyone can stumble upon it and see me vent me out without concern for anyone else. I even know that some of my friends may be following this because it's under my links on facebook (hi friends!). But at the same time, it still doesn't take away its appeal. It's like shouting your secrets from the top of a tall mountain: it echoes everywhere and you can't stop anyone from hearing it, but you still really want to do it anyway.

Not to say that I'm going to unveil everything, but just enough to make me a functioning member of society. You know, a normal person (ish...). I don't really know what I'm talking about. Do you? I'm just saying, when I get all of this out it feels nice.

today i made

Today I made a pulled pork burrito with roasted potatoes. The pork was seasoned with salt and paper, and stewed in the slow cooker with chipotle sauce and jalepenos for eight hours. After that, I shredded it and sat it in the slow cooker for another 15 minutes. I diced cilantro and onion and put them along with the shredded pork into two tortillas. I topped it off with a knockoff of the lava sauce from taco bell: nacho sauce made from sharp cheddar, flour, and milk, then stirred in cayenne pepper, Louisiana hot sauce, and siracha. I then heated up the frying pan to toast both sides of the burrito.

I also made roasted potatoes, which I seasoned with cajun seasoning, pepper, and garlic powder. I stuck it in the oven for 30 minutes at 440 degrees.

I fucked up the cheese though. I added too much milk so a lot of the bite and flavor were lost. It's not bad though, you can still taste a little heat on it. I really like cooking a lot; I hope to make people happy with it. I won't pursue a full-on professional job with it or whatever, but I'm living with a bunch of friends in Irvine next year, so if I can make them say "DANG THAT'S GOOD" I'll be happy. :D

I still have like a dozen articles I need to finish on this thing. Dang.

On another note I can eat cilantro raw. I wish there were cilantro chips OH WAIT YOU CAN MAKE THEM.

lack of sleep causes:

I can't sleep very well anymore. When one is derived of sleep the world tends to shift in interesting ways. Or maybe it's just my particular senses or something.

Colors tend to dull. The clouding around my eyes makes colors a shade or two less. It's like messing up the tint of a tv dial: everything looks a little bit more washed out, like it faded through a washing machine or something.

Light. Light is much, much sharper. The sun gleams like daggers and casts it's horrible, horrible rays across everything outside. I try to stay inside as much as I can when I don't get enough sleep. I think it might just be psychological though; like, the sun is a process that reminds me of my lack of sleep, therefore, it drives me to go inside and sleep.

Music is a lot richer, if for the sole fact that it distracts my mind from sleep and keeps me awake. Try listening to your favorite CDs sleep deprived, it's cool. The sounds tend to make themselves more apparent when you're on the brink of collapse.

My brain races wildly, constantly thinking, simply because if I cease to think I'll go to sleep. And I can't really sleep right now.

However, because my brain is so active, it tends to fuel my paranoia as well. All of my interactions become much more frantic as my mind analyzes everything in seconds. Every minuscule gesture is something to find meaning in.

My fingers move faster, so typing is a breeze.

My eyes dart faster, so I read faster. Processing, however, is the eventual pratfall; I can't maintain everything in my long-term memory.

I sit more awkwardly. I hunch up even more than I thought possible. Craaaazy.

ehh

I'm 19 tracks into the discography of Asian Kung-Fu generation, and I'm liking it a lot so far. It's been awhile since I've listened to this kind of sound. You know, instead of those gentle indie rockers or hip-hop artists or soft-spoken bands or whatever. You know, a real band. With traditional guitars and drums and that frantic sound achieved only when you're playing out of a garage or while you're in college struggling to make a band while attaining your communications degree.

It's a very rough sound. It reminds me of high school, when I'd spend hours in my room just listening to alt. rock and emo and stuff. I'd spend hours with Pinkerton on repeat, staring at the ceiling and wanting my homework to do itself. I'd play The Matches when I was waiting for the bus to come. It was all just noise, noise, noise. I'm pretty sure that I can attribute my lack of hearing to this particular genre.

During spring break I took my old cds and listened to them again. It was weird because I was using an old disc-player I haven't touched in years, and I was listening to cds, which I haven't used in years. It was an interesting experience, seeing some of my songs inspire a nostalgia in me, and others... well, I didn't have the best musical taste back then.

When I was younger all I wanted to do was write in my room and listen to music all the time. But the me now realizes that can't happen, or if it were, it'd be very hard. Attaining good grades, recommendations, internships, graduate schools, and the money for affording such ventures... it seems that I've been straddled with a lot of responsibility lately. Sometimes I miss being young, back when there wasn't any pressure, when you didn't have to look out at the horizon simply because every day was the same.

on another note I'm kind of addicted to bean paste nowadays.

I need to start listening to rock again.