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Sunday, September 11th, 2005
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Amazingly, I have managed to elude death once again, even in the midst of a long hiatus from Livejournal, general computer activity, and breathing. With my computer somewhere in e-Limbo and my life shambled somewhere in a ditch, bound with elastic cord, I haven't had much time for any of those. Amongst other things, I currently have no job, and I've come to realize that the job "searching" thing isn't for me, that I'm more of a wait-and-hoper.
The concept of work is not at all foreign or frightening to me. In fact, I quite relish the thought of having some sort of daily obligation so as to fill the boring hours of nothingness that currently occupy a significant portion of my life; however, I seem to have some sort of stigma that disallows me from doing anything, such as looking, to ensure the dull, fruitless toils of non-labor will not survive much longer. Instead, I waste excuses for my current lack of employment and suffer gravely/financially for this dire lack of initiative.
Don't get me wrong. I would never go so far as to call myself lazy. In fact, I quite enjoy most of the work I've ever done. I'm the type of person that generally can find enjoyment in pretty much anything he does. I believe the problem finds root in my dream-like insecurities; translated, I don't want anything getting in the way of the things that I really feel are worthwhile, such as my music, and would even more like to find a job that could hasten or fortify the progress of these endeavors; consequently, I would prefer not to tie myself, even semi-bindingly, to any job that doesn't have some heightened rewards later. Call me a fool, but I have aspirations and a managerial position at Applebee's is not one of them; which is not to say that I think I'm better than anyone that does aspire to or has succumbed to a fate of such degree but simply that I have a very dominant feeling in my gut right now that I need to get an album out and further pursue a musical career, and I'd be much better off keeping myself honed on venues that accomodate such routes.
However, the potential for jobs that might enlighten one's path to musical excellence in Alabama is scarce, and I have yet to find that special something of a job. Well, I may just have to settle for the best money I can get and continue my work on making an album independently. Unemployment blows.
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Those of you who read my Livejournal in its heyday of usefulness, as well as those who have ventured to read older, less thoughtful entries, have probably recognized the malignancy of boredom that set in me for a while. At one point in my life, every day seemed desperately similar to the copy of a copy of a copy of some day that I'd had twelve years before. Don't get me wrong - I've never been terribly depressed; simply put, I felt hindered from the more adventurous, less sedated life-style that I yearned for.
It has come to my attention within these past few days that I've recovered from this disease. My life is constantly moving, changing, and while it's not all kittens, it is generally very awesome and original. I find myself in the company of new and interesting people everyday, and the intensity of my relationships pique levels of intimacy that I had previously found to be of fantasy, or at least sitcom.
This makes me question where my life turned 'round, and I genuinely have yet to find an answer. Perhaps, there is no definitive moment, but rather, the turning point was not a point at all but a hump or line (or even a ray if you choose to delve so deeply) - a series of events combined with my frustration over years of lackluster endeavors and down-trodden, sleepless nights in front of a computer screen. The computer - don't get me wrong - is a wonderful invention, but as with heroin, too much can lead to back-avenues and the stench of McDonald's in your nose when you awake, curled in a fetal position on the bathroom floor. It's tiring, to say the least.
However, that period is over. I'm excited, pumped - ecstastic, perhaps. The useless things that I used to hold to such high importance have receded to foot-notes, and the things that I never thought I could have, I have. Ah, joy.
I think, I'm a different person.
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Wednesday, April 13th, 2005
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| Time: | 5:55 pm. |
| Music: | My Chemical Romance - Headfirst for Halos. |
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( The Beach )
( The Spoils )
( Tonight )
( The Space )
My paycheck is gonna rock. Until then, I have $1.75 to my name.
I'm a notorious procrastinator - not in a general sense but when it comes to things that I really don't want to do and people that I really don't want to do things for. I over-hauled a research paper Tuesday to have it ready for its due date... Wednesday. Upon having carried said paper around school all day in a clumsy manilla envelope, the idiot student teacher that stole my enjoyment of that class upon taking the task of teaching from Mrs. Earnest informed us all that she was going to give us an extension for the people that aren't ready (and because she's going to be too lazy to grade them till next week). Great.
Some girls are so awesome.
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Saturday, April 2nd, 2005
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Tuesday, March 29th, 2005
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Saturday, March 26th, 2005
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| Time: | 9:40 pm. |
| Music: | Radiohead - Kid A. |
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The genetic line of humanity, I find, is often obsessively preoccupied with singular hopes and fantasies that are issued simply within an hour, minute, or even moment of delicacy with which an individual's mind constructs hypotheses and theses for the alpha and omega of mortal existence. We associate the happiness we feel in these insignificant depressions - a hollow light at the end of an illusory tunnel - with the seemingly sentient being that stumbled upon an emotional trigger, we carve a niche in our very personalities for the outsider to burrow, and we derive future days and years as paths for a wagon half-full with another's luggage.
We are children of habit. We breed on instinct. We feed carnal desires with the backing of a conceptual emotional tie that we build in moments and sustain forever on faith, lies, and illusion. We do all of this without logical thought. With the premise of love, we are justifiably lustful and driven to achieve the fantasies that plague us, born of individual contacts of limbs and flesh, hair and bone, or of the sound of laughter, a compliment, or a witty retort.
As human's we seem to have a disposition towards order that refuses to allow a thread in one's life to simply be pulled into the seams, to disappear with no further thought. We build upon our fantastic moments, our sunrises, our first kisses that we claim last so long; later when we've built the structure of our fantastic prison, solely on the integrity of these simple lapses in time, the framework collapses, and we find that they were just too short. And we cry, like we never heard the sirens or saw the blinding light of truth taking its track of reason across the country of our minds. Maybe we didn't, but maybe - just maybe - we should.
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Thursday, February 24th, 2005
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| Time: | 10:58 pm. |
| Music: | The Hum of Fans and Drives. |
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I figured I'd post the recent poetry I've done which has the extremely, significantly, and excrutiatingly gigantic sum of two. The first was a revision of an older piece (by revision, I mean that I took three lines from it and constructed based off of it's structure); the second is me experimenting with iambs (for those unfamiliar with poetry, an iamb is an unstressed-stressed syllable configuration: "above the water flew a gull") which I can't remember an instance of having done previously. So without further adieu:
( Hyena )
( Tides Without the Shore )
Yeah, so enjoy, please.
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Monday, February 14th, 2005
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| Time: | 4:18 pm. |
| Mood: | disappointed. | | Music: | Seat Belts - Gotta Knock a Little Harder. |
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I'd planned a big, splendiferous, Valentine's Day date with Beth, then Ms. Paschal decided it was a good idea to schedule an assignment to be due tomorrow. If anyone who reads this ever becomes a teacher, don't make due dates the day after Valentine's Day; it ruins plans.
So, tonight is a boring night, void of date or fun. I have music, games, and an impending project that I'm going to let sit a few more minutes before I sink my teeth into. All the cool kids end their sentences with prepositions.
I'll never understand why people my age would want to get engaged/married so early. Not only is it ridiculously risky to do so, but the teenage years are a time for spontaneity and excitement. One should settle when their hip is liable to break otherwise, not before; at least, that's the way I see it. Personally, I'm too young to find absolute solace in a single person, if ever I will. My need for broadened experience and flexibility is too great for me to narrow my horizons to one person. Aside from that, I've never known a person that I didn't tire of within years, and I doubt any of these people will disagree when they're divorcing.
Sorry, Landon hopped on-board the pessism train for a moment. Honestly and sincerely, I wish the best of luck to any teen-aged person who may be planning to get married to their "one-true-love" soon, but again honestly and sincerely, I think you're pretty muh-fuggin dumb. Eat my opinion and like it.
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Wednesday, February 2nd, 2005
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| Time: | 8:13 pm. |
| Music: | Tom Waits - Tom Traubert's Blues. |
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Do you ever find yourself hurrying through your house to avoid conversation with your family?
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Tuesday, February 1st, 2005
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| Time: | 7:00 pm. |
| Music: | The Shins - The Past and Pending. |
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Wow. It's been a really, really long time since I've posted. Haha. Hi, I'm still a living Landon.
Over the past year, I've accomplished the task doing better in school than I have in several years. Due to this, I now question the potential of a correlation between my inactivity on Livejournal and my exquisite-for-me grades; regardless, I'll continue this post. I've been getting very little work from my job but have been finding other ways to keep myself busy. Just the factor of planning to attend college next year is enough. I'm really behind on all of that shit. I've been looking into perhaps moving to Georgia for the college thing, but that's not looking so optimistic. Who knows.
Anyways, I'd make a longer post (and perhaps I will make one later) but I've got a lot of work to do.
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| Time: | 2:07 am. |
| Music: | Kajed Berd - Starwatcher. |
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So, like, if we were, like, all robots or something, d'ya think the world might explode? *deep stoner surfer thought*
I was looking forward to a job I'd been promised this summer, but that's fallen through, due to the bastardity of people in general - one person, really. The "futter_of_bucks" - not ripped from anyone, I assure you - decided that it would be a good idea to tell me that he was no longer going to hire me two days before I was going to start working for him, and then, only because I called him, so now, I'm in the market for a new job. Everyone in my family is adamant about getting me working at the smoke house. I may just go and work there, but I'd prefer to look around first, instead of jumping on the first thing that comes my way. Maybe that's just me being childish, but I know what I want. So, since I'm lacking a job, I've instead been trying to make myself useful around the family. No money in it, but I'm really just paying off what they pay for me.
Things have been interesting in my social life. Wait - no, they haven't, but they've been fun. That's the word, "fun". I've been spending most of my time at my grandmother's and Lacy's, as usual - only, more frequently at both, now that I have no school. John and I are currently working on the last scene of the movie we're making, "Alabama Jones" (as in, a spoof off of "Indiana Jones"). The fight scene is coming well, but we still have a few kinks - too slow here, not enough emphasis there, an arm that isn't supposed to be in the shot yonder.
I've realized more and more, lately, that Isaac Asimov is a kick-ass bastard. I don't mean your pansy nine-year-old kick-ass, where one gets a kick in and the other runs for their mother. No. I mean a bar fight between a weight lifter and a computer technician - the computer technician getting viciously beaten in the head as he tries to run away, but is hindered by Asimov's ultimate power. Yeah, like that.
Oh man, I'm tired.
I need to get up early, early tomorrow morning. I left a note for my dad to wake me up because I don't feel like looking for my god-forsaken alarm clock (or listening to it's steady, mind-bending ticking all night); hopefully, he'll find it. Anyways, I have some work to do around here before I go to John's around eight to do some filming before I have to get to my grandmother's at one-to-two o'clock.
I've gotten back into playing Diablo II. For a while, I thought the game was just better than I remembered, then I tried playing as something other than an Assassin and realized that it was just that I like the Assassin class. Eh-heh.
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Have they no shame? O-K, Corral. I'm heading to bedding. Rock out with your fine nights, and don't count your chickens before they've crossed the road.
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Wednesday, May 19th, 2004
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Beautiful android - I saw the prettiest NINJAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!11
Who's the coolest ninja to ever be seenz? (WAFT!) That's right - waft that manly odor. (RAFT!) Oh yeah, like a raft he'll plunge into yo waters to save you. (SHAFT!) Make sweet, sweet love to you in an elevator shaft (considering that ninjas actually have the ability to make love). It's ____, baby. (Hint: Ninja have no names.)
( OMGZ! IS THAt A ninJZa!? )
End.
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Landon's in the market for a girl who doesn't hold out/lie, actually listens to what he has to say, as he will for her, doesn't think I'm better off left in the dark, and can actually communicate. Basicly, a girl that won't fuck me over.
That's right. Landon's girlfriend of a month has just broken up with him. A week ago, he found out that she's been unhappy with him for a while and had only recently gotten over her last boyfriend, yet she claimed that this was untrue though it was read of her own words. Odd? Landon thought so, too, so he didn't trust her for the remaining week of their relationship. He knew for sure that it was coming Thursday when she disallowed him from hugging her, kissing her, standing near her, etc., and when she began complaining about several things that he's done for the entirety of the relationship, such as brushing her hand with his thumb while holding it.
So, Landon prepared for this. He waited, and indeed, he pops online to "Break up with me. I'm only going to hurt you." He replied, as he had been planning, "I won't." And she, of course, broke up with him then. It's much like a bitch to try and lay the burden of ending a relationship on the other, isn't it? And she continued on to the "it's not you; it's me" sort of thought by saying, "I just want to be alone. I've not been alone in a year and a month."
Bullshit-o-meter? Let me tell you something, sweetheart, when I ask for a "why," that's not an acceptable answer. If you want to be alone, there's a reason. Now, what the fuck is it? Were you scared? Fucking retarded, I suppose as well. Even after the relationship, you can't come out and tell me what's wrong still, can you? Learn to fucking communicate, or you'll get fucked like me. But, that's what you want, right? That's what you wanted.
And you always took me too seriously. I never thought you hated me. I never thought you thought anything wrong of me purposefully. I thought you were fucking weak, and you still are. I thought you were going to fuck me, but I knew that wasn't you but, rather, your lack of foresight. You should've thought about me before all of this. You should've thought about you. But you didn't, and now, I'm fucked. Thank you.
And all I wanted at the end was to know why. You couldn't give me that could you?
Vented. I'm done, I think. Anyways, I'm sure you can read something a bit more coherent on the subject on her journal. I haven't read it myself - and I won't as I promised; I think before I act, and I don't lie to those I love - but I'm sure she's got something about it.
Click.
Alright. I think I'm good now, but I need to get out of here; unfortunately, I can't until tomorrow. Oh well, I'll bear the night. Thanks for reading.
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Saturday, March 27th, 2004
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Inside the mouth of a broken whale, we found our hope. The darkness enfolded tighter every moment we allowed our eyes to open; we kept them closed and let go, gave ourselves faith to abide the pitch without our sight. We were in utter black, blind to the world (but not from the world). They watched us through translucent skin, while we slept side-by-side.
Whether the beast disliked our smell or taste - reeking only of each other - we were spat into the light, blinded by the jaded sea. Shot through the spiracle, awed by the sapphire megalith, supposed to hold the men together, we slowly drifted through channels and undertow, unknown. In the clear abyss, we drift alone in darkened undertone.
The men are scattered in the vast, breathing last breaths in failed attempts. Crushed lungs once dreamed to breathe in shallower waters. Skyward, watchers peer on us through the clear blue and crystalline scales - watching how the mission failed, not caring in the least. Wreak havoc on the sea with tumultous waves that carry carcasses far apart. Let the fish rip out the heart. We lay our last breaths' release, staring down on emerald spires growing up to pull us down. Drag us back to where we found our hope, to where we were consumed.
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Thursday, March 25th, 2004
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Once upon a time, there were two princes. One was the white prince, and the other was the black prince (though this did not imply any sort of evil intent). After long years of loneliness, the white prince found his love fostered in the arms of a beautiful young princess who expressed, quite fluently, a reciprocation of his own feelings. All of the people of her kingdom met with him to ask him to take her hand. This was all that he had wanted, and so, he agreed, and the townspeople worked to have them together.
But the princess's love was found to be untrue, and she turned herself from his kingdom. Her people, feeling great loyalty to her, placed their faith in her judgment and turned away from him as well. The white prince was devastated and found solace (fleeting as it was) only in his friend, the black prince. The black prince tried his best to handle the white prince's meekness with understanding (though his understanding was not as well as his intention). He told the white prince to find another kingdom with another maid to wed without understand that the prince wanted no less than the princess he had sought.
The white prince was presented with several maids that many felt worthy of his favor, but he found none of them to possess what he had wanted of the princess. He felt, however, that perhaps the princess was not so important when he had the black prince there to console him; therefore, Fate pulled a cruel string, and the black prince found love in one of the maids who had been presented only weeks before to the white prince himself. Slowly, the black prince grew away from the white prince with only eyes for his maid, and the white prince was alone with no hope for tomorrow - only prayers.
A question of karma: does losing hope make it hopeless?
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landoni's journal
