absurd things and ramen flings
I wonder what that word is that describes the ultimate feeling of contentedness and at the same time perfects the ideal of unhappiness.
What am I? Where am I? Why am I?
The thoughts ring constantly in my head, questions always going further than the statements that answer them. It is not so much that I am here and the time I am given, but rather what I do that can grant me happiness.
And right now it is different.
I am content, true. I am here, true.
But that’s not to say that I am happy.
The quiet contentedness of this empty room, biting. The coffee stain on the corner, the chipped off paint from the wall, the “ab initio ad infinitum”, the dream catcher, the star chart, the calendar never updated, the freshman map.
I am engulfed in its presence, the simple college life – wake, consume, class, sleep. And the times when it broke from it. Singing in the lounge, a first vote for Hope, random dinners with random people, concerts of unknown bands, four people in one room, the all-niters, sunsets, sunrises, beaches and the food – who can forget the food?
But it’s gone now. The room stripped of all personally but a cover on a bed, a few pillows, and a stack of boxes and bags in the corner.
I don’t think I’ve realized until having my fill of it just how much I dislike alcohol. Recently, I’ve come across quite a bit, and out of blatant curiosity (and of course the family setting), I was not at all against its consumption.
However, when I’ve come to think about it, the reasoning behind my drinking seemed purely social. It was rather harmless – I didn’t feel a thing.
But I believe I should hold myself up to higher standards when it comes to peer pressure than I had that weekend. I’m quite disappointed in myself, actually. And through limitless thought, I’ve come to these conclusions:
Alcohol is the catalyst by which so many domestic violence cases have been seen. It’s not so much a surprise, but during RAPDV training I’ve come to know several citations of alcohol related abuses. It’s such a scary thought that out there is a kid whose life is a living hell, because one or both parents destabalize what should be a stable life with alcohol. It’s also a scary thought that somewhere out there is a woman or man facing dating violence from a partner who has had too much to drink.
I remember in my 10th grade English class, Ms. Ruszel talked about sexual assaults pertaining to alcohol. I remember the statistic she told the class that in college it was almost unavoidable to know a female who has been taken advantage of – to have had sex when, if sober, would have said, simply no. It’s so fucking horrible, it’s scary. And I know with all the people I know, it’s frightening to think one of them may have reached that point of vulnerability.
And all the damage being done to otherwise limitless minds… There’s a reason why anterograde amnesia, a case by which a person has no recollection of a particular event (either concurrently thereafter or otherwise) is a common occurence with alcoholics. The long term effects on the mind, I don’t believe, is worth the simple curiosity or social advantage of “fitting in”.
And I believe, as the ideological bastard that I am, I cannot not actively support alcohol when, in the face of it I know the kind of ills that come with it. It is unattractive, tastes horribly, and the vessel by which people do absolutely stupid things.
Fuck alcohol.
*high fives Gary*
I wonder if it is by some miracle that the majority of people practicing academia (not necessarily academics) can sleep so little yet still think so much.
I find that at this hour all things not only seem clearer but completely transparent. At this time of night I can see all my flaws, my downfalls, my mistakes during the day which, when in the thick of it, simply blazed overhead. I realized how foolish it was to say this or that, how completely simple a math problem was, or just how beautiful the rest of the day was, everything.
Life is as bare as it ever will be so late at night.
I looked out my window today and saw another hummingbird. I’m unsure as to the type it was, but I knew its wings moved very quickly. I never quite see hummingbirds fly so high, so it was a rather peculiar sight. I suppose when your niche is lower to the ground, there really isn’t that big of an incentive to fly higher. I wonder if it was more difficult for the hummingbird to be up there. I wonder what drove it upwards.
I found myself walking around rather late at night. I was walking through the grass when I found, to my surprise, a rabbit. Taking in the moment as a welcomed peculiarity, I tried my best not to scare it away. For a few moments, it stared at me and I at it. I stood my ground for a minute or so, and the rabbit did so similarly. I felt sorry for the creature, truthfully. To live your life constantly running away from the large creatures that it felt would do it harm – that is not a life I would wish to live. For it, the middle of the grass must have been a rare occurence, delegated specifically for the night, when no humans were about. I bade it peace and walked around – understanding that simple pleasures as an open field are not so prevalent for others as it was for me.
Yesterday, a person had held open for me a door for a rather long time. With no convenience to the other, the door held open – me walking through, arms filled with drink. The arbitrary kindness of strangers never quite befits the feeling when specified to you. And at such a simple price as a “thank you”.
I fully awoke today feeling horrible. The bittersweet duality in feeling of distance and love can suck so much.
Only twenty until home, and twenty-nine until I realize fully.
High pulp orange juice – I never quite had a taste for it. Hell, I hated it. I therefore avoided it for quite a number of years.
But I puchased high pulp orange juice today, and it felt vastly different. Different from what I’ve had before. Different from the taste of before. It’s refreshing.
There are other things I’ve thought were rather unfortunately bad, but maybe I’m wrong?
Perhaps carrots are delicious.
I woke up rather early today, oddly early, and started thinking about all the beautiful places I’ve been.
Then I thought back to yesterday, how I missed the opportunity to see the sunset from that little corner in Geisel Library. It probably would have been amazing.
But alas, I missed it.
Right now, I’m thinking it’s a rather large shame the libraries open at 8am. From the eighth floor of Geisel, I think the sunrise would look amazing from there.
Y’know, I’ve never seen a tree die before – naturally I mean. Seeing a tree’s life in a time lapse would be sight.
I opened my external hard drive and found pictures dating back from quite a whiles ago. It’s very odd looking back to realize you don’t quite know who you’ve been. It’s kind of funny.
Robotics, that’s where the picture is from. I miss working, and not, on the robot. Good luck on the new build season.
|
