Reactivated.

Yeah, that didn’t take too long. Meh.

Of Bass Clefs And Rehab..

I wonder why all of Yann Tiersen’s work is based on the bass clef. It’s true that he mostly writes waltzes; so it naturally follows that the bass clef is composed of equal monotonic segments giving off a certain sound with the starting tone accentuated, giving off that background generic ‘Valse’ theme, but that’s another story. Anywho, the focus of the piece usually moves from the treble to the bass clef in no time, with all the minimalist work given to the right hand. My dad and I have this theory that he might be left handed, or maybe it’s because most of his work is composed on the accordion, which gives the left hand all of the tuning work? I’m not sure. He’s flipped the tables alright. This is not about mirroring YouTube videos. How the actual sheet is transcribed, if you can read it, you’ll see the tune shifting subtly to the bass clef, having started in the treble clef, with the left hand handling most of the work. It’s quite obvious in “La Valse D’Amelie”. I personally prefer the orchestra version though, but it’s most obvious in solo performances. Even if you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, if you give a flying fuck, here it is:

 

So, anywho, now that I’ve taken the piano geek out for a walk in the sun, how is everybody? I’m experiencing a severe case of withdrawal. With my Facebook account sporadically deactivated on a bad day, my phone alerting for no calls and my msn appearing offline most of the time. It’s odd how we’ve all become so dependent on a virtual life. It’s not real, it’s an imitation of real, with several factors eliminated from what is supposedly a social media. Talking to someone in person is more intense than talking to them on the phone, and phone is more personal and emotionally-oriented than chatting. The visual aspect is eliminated on the phone just as the auditory one is eliminated online. Social interactions should be audiovisual. And, well, rehabilitation is always good I guess. Withdrawal forces the other aspects to sharpen up a little, we’ve all been a little rusty around the edges because of that, haven’t we? Well.

On a unrelated note, I think we should all start learning Chinese. I mean, come on man, with that rate of economical upper hand the midgets have got, Mandarin’s gonna be next millennia's English. Meh

I Have Deactivated My Facebook Account. I’m Not Sure Why. But I Did.

I Still Hate Mozart Though.

Poof.

It’s really odd how things that used to feel so potent one day could just disappear the next, it’s not quite explainable, verging on borderline tickling bipolar, but anyway. It happens. You don’t even have to try. Or do you? Was it because you tried? I mean, things don’t just lose effect on their own, unless they’re radioactive that is. I think I’ve discovered a new element. I wonder how many half lives this one’s got up its sleeve.

And I’m On My Knees.

Life Lesson #132: ‘And sometimes I get nervous, when I see an open door. Close your eyes, cut the core, clear your heart. Are we human?’

Life Lesson #133: When you’ve hit a new low, then you probably need to format. Obviously a little defragmentation would do you good. Possibly a restore. Did you save a restore point?

Life Lesson #134: Did you lose your head? Then you need to grow one back. Duh.

Life Lesson #135: Maybe you need to go away for a while. Somewhere where nobody exists, nothing resounds and stuff doesn’t make sense in the first place. Because, well, because:

Life Lesson #136: Let me tell you what I think are pretty good ideas. Cave man week experiment, cutting off all access to technology till your head stop contacting people off national boundaries and maybe, just maybe, till you can manage to make your own sense instead of swallowing it. Readily digested time-forwarding serums don’t work when you’ve lived the time you’ve fast-forwarded and can’t remember anything that you said or did because you weren’t  really there to see it, being telepathically off national boundaries. Worse yet, when you’re actually back, people hate you for things you don’t know have happened. Pretty therapeutic dope, eh? You’re not supposed to get it, so don’t try and re-read. More good ideas? Dancing. After all, we’re not human, that rules one out.

Life Lesson #137: Stop saying things you mean, maybe you should learn to start lying for a change. Lying makes people happy, gets em off your back. Honesty sucks, you know that right? Because, well, if you’re the only honest one then you might as well have been walking on truth serum and everybody enjoys seeing you with an installed lie detector. Freak shows aren’t in anymore, so you gotta learn to keep pace with the parade. It’s part of growing up after all.

Life Lesson #138: Long sentences make for short memory spans coupled with a little, just a little, lazer-enhanced hindsight, because after all, How do you know what’s real and what’s not? You don’t.

Life Lesson #139:

Cut The Core.

Life Lesson #131: ‘Send my respects to grace and virtue, send my condolences to good. Give my regards to soul and romance, they always did the best they could. And so long to devotion, you taught me everything I know. Wave goodbye, wish me well. You’ve gotta let me go.’

Clingy, Creepy, Annoying And A Nuisance.

Life Lesson #130: There’s only so much one can fuck up. Then it’s irreparable, and then the best way to say I’m sorry is to leave because after all you’ve been enough of a pain. I’ve heard what I do to you when your voice cracked. Tell me how to make it right again.

There’s No Saving Anything, Now We’re Swallowing The Shine Of The Sun.

What makes you think I’m enjoying being led to the flood? We got another thing coming undone. And it’s taking us over.

You Desired My Attention, But Denied My Affection.

Why Does There Always Have To Be A Title?

Let me tell you what’s on my mind without telling you what’s actually going on, which is something I like to do to all manners of unsuspecting people just for the rush of it. Not that big on sharing, which is ironic since I have a blog, but ask yourself, what do you really know? Exactly. There’s this oh so plausible loophole of an option which gives every person the right to treat other people as incapable of memory retention unless for keeping track of things to use when they’re trying to get back at you for that, I dunno, friggin crunchy you took and never gave back, thus ineligible for being implemented as ones in normal day-to-day situations, which means you’ll have a ton of people to talk to and actually hang out with, but use for time-wasters. More of wanting supplements of a Rubik’s cube you’ve been hiding from a certain 6-year-old with a tantrum on a planet where it’s illegal to punch kids.

The worst thing you could actually do to yourself is to tell people how you feel. Be so fucking hard to see through that they’d consider using you for upgraded bulletproof vests and you’ll be fine. You see, telling them what you think is cool, because the thinking is a body of its own that can talk back and defend itself, formulate for later modifications and well..boggle their fucking minds out of their skull so much that they’ll revert to the ‘what-the-hell-made-me-give-a-fuck-in-the-first-place’ phase and leave you the hell alone as they should have. But feelings, naww man. Never been good with those, always inserting the wrong jokes with the wrong phrasing at exactly the wrong time. Not a good idea to project something you’re not that good at handling, because if they get mishandled/manhandled without you knowing how the hell to handle them yourself, then maybe it’s not the best idea having them permanently built-in. You’d think people would have invented dischargeable feelings by now. Something along the lines of emotional condoms. Bleh. You’d also think they wouldn’t have time to invent the latter without working on the former. Well isn’t the human race just a great disappointment. Where are all the jetpacks people? I wanted one of those when I was 10 for when I was 12. I like the back of my chair tho, it revolves, leans to the sides and corresponds to your weight as it slightly gets pushed back, supporting you nonetheless.Too good to be true, must’ve been invented by aliens. Well, it’s a good compromise for the jetpack. The human race is not a disappointment after all, for something to be a disappointment it means that it actually tried, putting forward the effort. Humanity doesn’t give a fuck, so it doesn’t qualify.

I have a long day tomorrow, but for the first time in sometime and shortly after I decided that maybe falling out with some people isn’t such a bad idea after all. I’ve reverted to the cocoa-sipping, 6-am lounging not-giving-a-flying-fuck-about-having-to-wake-up-early-enough-tomorrow-to-manage-studying-and-droos-with-actually-having-enough-sleep-involved-in-the-equation me. Well. Nah. You need to unplug once in a while, from everyone and everything. And that while is an indefinite amount of time set aside for rehabilitation purposes only. There are some people you are supposed to let go, however hard that maybe because the people you love talking to don’t love you back and the people who claim they love you are boring fucks.

I’ll be 18 in a couple of months. It’s slightly unsettling. You’re admitted into the adult world shot full of hormones in a kid’s body and the experience of a goldfish. It’s not that tho, it’s the actual listening. You see, when you’re the kid, nobody actually listens to you. It gets in your hair as a kid, yes, but when everybody starts listening to you all of a sudden and you’re not that big on the whole mass-talk corundum, it holds the structural similie of playing your digital drum set with your stethoscope. You’ll get your ear-drums ruptured and it’s not likely that you’ll sound good doing it because it’s a million to one chance you’ll have made an idiot out of yourself so early into it that it doesn’t even count as a decent trial. But well, looking like an idiot is probably the most cited on your CV, so I’ll just stick with the actual outcome argument and I’m set.

Common Misconceptions about Night People.

Citation: http://www.vic.com/~nlp/np-miscn.htm

We're insomniacs.

No way. We aren't trying to get to sleep.

We're unhappy.

Only when we're not allowed to follow our natural schedule.

We have a medical problem.

We're as healthy as most, and more than some. For instance, you won't find us getting skin cancer from too much sunbathing.

We're weird.

Who's calling who weird?

The Bozo Boss Misconception: We're lazy, dishonest, and trying to fool everyone because we want credit for working at night but we don't actually do it.

This is an evil misconception. It doesn't just show a lack of respect for our natural body rhythms, it says we're liars, frauds... Employers always seem to feel this way, even when we're doing the kind of work that can be measured somehow. All I can say to these people is: Have you ever observed a Night Person at work during his or her peak time? After you've sat up with one of us and seen how productive we are, say that again.

We think we're vampires or have some other kind of odd self image.

Do you think you're the sun god Amon-Ra just because you're a Day Person?

We're criminals who use the excuse of staying up late to cover our crimes.

Sure, and all the people who are up in the daytime are law-abiding citizens. Crimes are ONLY committed at night.

We're hooked on caffeine.

It doesn't take coffee and coke to keep US up!

The only reason we stay up late is to go to bars, cavort, and party.

Sure, we like it as much as the next guy, but don't blame us just because we're always the last to leave!

We're delinquents and degenerates.

How do you know? Do you follow delinquents and degenerates around at night? If you do, what's YOUR problem?

Dear Cyber Space,

You’ve kept me sane. I’m inclined to admit to you that with everybody else choosing another person, country, dimension or, worse, life; you’ve been quite a sweetheart.

Truly, Who gives a fuck.

There’s No Saving Anything.

Call Me A Nutto, But I Believe it.

My fish. We believe he was feeling lonely and probably having nightmares, so we put a mirror next to the bowl.

This is not a joke.

It was my dad’s idea. The mirror. I think my fish believes he has a new friend and they hang out most of the day. It’s amazing how it’s the only spot he chooses to sleep. The fish, not my dad. You have to see it to believe it.

Every Night.

You can underestimate it, but it’s good company that keeps you from going nuts. Even if you were a fish. I wrote about this before I took the picture, and then I walked to the bowl Knowing, just knowing, that it’s where he’ll be.

Coincidence?

Younger Now Than We Were Before.

I almost did it today. I almost said it. But they can’t know. Never. Not ever. I’d rather suck up and handle it, even if it means I crumble for a million years to come. It’s not Black and White. Not with this. This has to be Gray. So I can still breathe.

Never.

What Am I Supposed To Say When I’m All Choked Up That You’re Ok.

This Is My December.

Life Lesson #120: Today I lied to someone I love to protect someone I care about. I’ve never had to do that before, and yes I’m telling the truth. Lying is practical, kinda like privacy settings. On the other hand, some people aren’t wired to handle the truth, and can only function when everything is pleasantly blurred. Others don’t deserve the truth, because they have no place of control in your life, and knowledge is power. Bottom line is, I learned to lie, and I now believe that it’s a manipulative trick that everybody should master. When it comes to using it, you’ll know the right time. Gray areas aren’t that bad after all, as long as the gradient is directed the right way.

Life Lesson #121: You can’t be comfortable stepping out of your comfort zone, or else you wouldn’t be stepping out of it in the first place. Duh.

Life Lesson #122: “A kind word can warm three winter months” – Japanese Proverb. And it can blur years ahead. Which is better. And worse. Depending on how you look at it.

Life Lesson #123: “My God, amazing that we got this far. It’s like we’re chasing all those stars, who’s driving shiny big black cars”.

Life Lesson #124: “Love of mine, someday you will die, but I’ll be close behind, I’ll follow you into the dark. No blinding light, or tunnels to gates of white, just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark.”

Life Lesson #125: “Roxanne, you don’t have to wear that dress tonight.”

Life Lesson #126: The little things. It’s always the little things.

Life Lesson #127: He’s alive. A month later. That’s good. Better than nothing. And no, not that nothing. I mean that other nothing, with nothing after it. My fish is dying though. Or having nightmares. “Beera”, my fish, is bolting around the bowl for no reason at all. You see, fish don’t usually do that, unless you wake them up that is, but I don’t do that. 7ram. It’s bad enough that they don’t have eyelids. Karma can get a wee bit immature trying to settle the odds.

Life Lesson #128: Seas nake. Intended.

Life Lesson #129: My December.

Want A Job?

I’m hiring assassins, someone who can do it fast though. Not that picky about the painless part. Send your CVs in this week. Don’t miss the opportunity.

I Don’t Really Like My Flow, No, So..

Invariable Fact Of Life.

A text after 12 has dead people in it. RIP. Here’s to hoping a better place exists beyond the radio waves.

You Oxymoron.

Words are easy. You gape at confrontational people, and miss the ones who actually do it. Words are way too easy. They make people cringe and give you the rush, but they’re not worth a dime. They’re words. You fling them at people because they don’t stick.

One Of Em 3:00 Am Talks

I was watching a documentary with dad just now on JSC doc, it was about squirrels. So there was this pack of really cute squirrels, one of the squirrels was called Scarlett. Yes, it was dubbed but they still kept the names. So Scarlett had guts, probably bigger guts than her little body should hold, metaphorically speaking. She found a fruit one day and kept it all for herself, putting up with the chase from the other squirrels and getting bloated because of it. Pretty selfish, eh? Anywho, some time afterwards, a snake came out at within their territory. Scarlett then kept bugging it to go away, and she kept coming so damn close that the cobra kept lashing at mid air and missing her each and every time. Then, the cobra made it back to its lair. The squirrels were going nuts, pun intended. They couldn’t have a snake there. So Scarlett, that little suicidal maniac, goes halfway into the lair, provoking the snake to come out of one of the other branches. Scarlett then hurried out, followed the cobra and flung herself at the Cobra. The last shot was of the cobra around the squirrel’s head, my hand on my mouth and the commentator saying “wa af3a el cobra ektafat behaza el katl”.

“DAD, Dad, don’t these things follow instinct?”

“What do you mean? Yeah of course they do.”

“But Scarlett went against her survival instinct!”

“Yeah, but she had to defend her clan”.

“What clan! Fuck the clan! That little suicide bomber! She  just had her head bitten off.”

“It’s not like she’s dead.”

“Yes she is! The dude said Ektafat Behaza el Katl.”

“El *Kadr. Ektafat behaza el kadr.”

“So Scarlett’s ok?”

“Yes, the friggin squirrel is okay…”

How do we tell apart the time to leave from the time to wait?

Who? Aaah. Whoa!

I aced my Chem exam.

 

Yeh. 

Dread Locks.

I have 4:30 hours to study French and chemistry for stupid evaluations quizzes that are good for nothing except for bringing your psyche down and your cyber life hours up. I’ve also gotta work on a Chemistry assignment. So anywho, I’m still hanging around here doing absolutely nothing with my life because my head doesn’t feel intact and I’m afraid any attempt at overload is gonna make it tumble off of my neck and unto the couch where it so belongs.

Not that much going on, had a meeting yesterday, went fine, had to leave early because dad has appointments, had a friend hang out at my place. School was cool, rhyming unintended. We had that annual group photo thingie. Inevitably, something just haaaaad to go wrong. I got my allergy that night and woke up with my eyes as slits and my breathing pattern dwindling. I gobbled the pill on my way to school hoping they’ll work their magic in three hours. To tell you the truth though, I couldn’t care less.

That expression always gets on my nerves. You see, the original is ‘I could care less’ and it’s supposed to mean I don’t give a shit, but if you think about it, if you actually have it in you to care less, then you do give a shit.

I have my hair in dreadlocks, because I didn’t have time to get my hair done for the annual photo thingie in the middle of all el droos and stuff. Now I don’t have to comb/wash my hair for a week. :) Ahhh, the little things. I actually thought the dreadlocks and blowfish eye-lids gave me that certain reggae air. All I needed now was a bong and I could make it as an understudy for Bob Marley.

Usually that day, which we’ve conveniently called “The International Photography Day” – that is if you consider the pathetic trials at socializing caught on film photography – triggers something in everyone’s heads and before you know it everybody’s walking around with a cam snapping shots of their faces with the same invariable plastic smile plastered on at every possible and improbable spot of the school you can think of. That goes on for the entire school day, then your homepage is flooded with photos that have the same face with different backgrounds, the same stupid airhead comments over and over again and you dare not comment/like because you know it’s damn sure that you’ll be bombarded with notifications a month into it, because that’s what they’re there for after all; a renewable anti-depressive resource.

You’d think people grow up, but they still had fights on who was in the picture. A friend and I actually got dissed because the group we hang out with sometimes decided it’s good punishment for all the girl fights that they deny us of the right of being photographed with their royal butts. You’d be surprised what the hit em hard approach can do, a couple of minutes later, when we made it clear that the roles are actually reversed and we actually Want to not be with em, they came over and asked us to. Haha. Oh shoot me, holy dumb fucks.

Oh, and she’s happy, for the first time in a long time. Blue has turned into Beige again. And no, you’re not supposed to get it.

Hoes.

It’s kinda odd and slightly frustrating that half of the girls I have on facebook flood my newsfeed with tedious confirmation of how they turned into airless hoes that love and miss everybody, even though most of the time they, as well as everybody, know how much they hate their fucking guts and would trade them for a pack of gitanes any day, with tons of XOXOs and Mwahs and OMG that’s like so kewwl, keep it up gurl. Keep what up? I’ve always wondered. Keep looking after yourself so you don’t look like a hairless –sometimes hairy- ape like you formerly used to? Keep up to the standards of force-fed plastic beauty? You’d think they wanna get paid to be hired escorters with ‘benefits’, but obviously they really have absolutely nothing to say and wanted to make use of it by looking hot as they say yeah over and over and over and over and over and over and..