Party Pooper

I’m going to an engagement party tomorrow. Weddings and tradition make me uncomfortable. Beyond the social anxiety, I don’t really see the point in weddings or most traditions. That’s being as generous as I can be. Truthfully, I think they’re stupid. But my problems aren’t that deep and I don’t care enough about them to hate them. I just ask the why question. Why do these things? Do they mean something to you simply because they meant something (probably completely different) in the past? There are all these days and events to make you acknowledge love and respect. Only a silly fool would actually need those excuses to show love. That’s why I hate the concept of Father’s Day. A day that forces children to acknowledge their fathers? That must feel great. I’d rather a significant other say or do something small and nice on a random day than have extravagant plans for Valentine’s Day. Because my life contains 364 days besides Valentine’s Day every year. I want those to be good more than I want a great single day. Throw that day away. Make hot chocolate and coffee and let’s play a board game in July.
I guess those days are supposed to be fun. But why are we making excuses to have fun?
Anyway, when you philosophically disagree with something, it makes any sort of enjoyment a bit fake. “Oh my god, this is such a great party (thats premise is a joke).”
Plus it all reminds me too much of the loud attention seeking kid in school. You get an engagement party, a bridal shower, a bachelorette party, and the actual wedding? Do you get presents at all of these? Because seriously, you’re the worst. Growing up we learn the world doesn’t revolve around us, but we sure love excuses to make it seem like it does.
And I’m a downer. I’m aware. But don’t think I walk into the party with both middle fingers up or some crazy nonsense like that. I politely keep my critiques to myself and lie to all my friends. That’s what a good person does, right?

I’m trying hard to fake it

I’ve written miles on what it’s like to be living in me.

But no ones reading and I’m starting to hope that I can sleep.

Some days don’t look like what I’d thought that’d be.

So I search the mirror for a meaning that’s lacking.

Picking locks while you just start packing.

Why haven’t you called?

I have to believe there’s a reason.

Or I’m going to give up hope again.

And let the clock catch me in between.

A total stranger knows more than anyone else about my mind.

I would be worried but I read that I can just about get by.

My friends are missing and I’ve gone home lying.

Does anyone notice my mood shifting?

You Came To Me

I was a collection of antibodies,

but you were a new disease.

Ripe

It’s moments when I realize I’m incapable,

I shrink to fit the feeling.

I am what you thought of me,

You were always right,

Because I am shapeless,

Only given a form when one’s given to me.

You gave me a form,

And you took it away just as quickly.

I kept up with your movements as best I could,

But I couldn’t and I failed you,

Or at least your expectations.
You’ve gone missing again,

I search for you everywhere in every word.

I write more to find you in them.

All I can offer is more words,

But you have no use for them.

And you disappear with the rest of me.

I’ve Grown Into Something

I’m buried somewhere in the overwhelming prospect of existence,
And the future.
With every unknown feeling like a giant standing on my chest,
And every difficulty stacking another world on its shoulders.

I was once tiny but massive at the same time,
I could fit the world inside my head.
As less is known,
I shrink,
And scramble to build what crumbles around me.
In a losing race with ideals that look better than they feel.

I fire faster but routine is lost,
And connections break down slowly,
The insulation is vanishing from inside,
Though I try moving faster than light.

40 Days of Music: Day 17 – I Swear I Still Like Music

Those posts took a back, backseat over the last few weeks. I have no reason why except that I’ve been posting different types of things and discovering different music, not on this list, leaving little chance for proper reviews. And if I’m going to do this, I’m going to try to do it right. Or at least a little good. Or hopefully not suck. Very hard.

So on this day following Beyonce’s newest album release, let’s look at something on the complete opposite end of the spectrum.

ON TOOS THE LIIIIST! http://www.rollingstone.com/music/lists/40-greatest-emo-albums-of-all-time-20160301/embrace-embrace-1987-20160224

Number 24: Embrace – Embrace (1987)

After a handful of albums I’ve had plenty of experience with, I’ve come to a new one. That’s not entirely accurate though, being in the punk scene at all you’ve heard of every Ian MacKaye band, even if you don’t actively seek them out.

The album is post-hardcore awesomeness. The music isn’t too inventive, though it may have been at the time of release. It’s fairly straight forward and simple chords and drumming. It’s the lyrics that really shine on this album. From my limited understanding of the history of the scene, punk/hardcore was going violent in the mid-80’s and members of many bands were bummed out at this turn of questioning the world to pummeling it with hatred. “I didn’t want to see people hurting people/But I refuse to close my eyes.”
Embrace turned the sword back on itself. It’s highly self-critical and mostly focused on how it feels to be who you are and what you’re doing in life. It’s much more personal and calls for personal responsibility rather than the “moronic violence” that was coming up in the hardcore scene. “If I can do some good/I want to do it/If I have a choice/I want to make it/It’s my human responsibility.”

The album is one I can get behind. The music is fun and catchy while maintaining a disgusting offensiveness. You can nod along with it even though the singer is screaming at you or you can dance. There’s melody and a message. Music that makes you think is rare and useful. Even if you completely disagree with a point, you have to explore them and try to understand.

 

 

I’m Searching

I often think I’m asking the wrong questions.

Untilted 3

I don’t talk about people, I talk about ideas,

and you’re one idea that i never wanted.

and now when i try to shake the feeling that you’re here,

I’m left shaking at the thought,

imagining a world without some pronouns.

so i can eliminate the need from my life,

but there’s still you,

and there’s still me,

and there’s still an idea that we exist.

though i try to get rid of everything I cannot hold on to.

 

I want you to know I’m trying,

but trying in the opposite direction of what you want me to try,

so in reality I’m digging deeper in the hole that you found me in.

the one you thought you could pull me out of with enough time,

and concentrated effort.

but there’s never enough time in life when you’re busy and happy.

or busy and sad, it makes no difference to a clock.

add an emotion and the world goes out the window.

And you’re just busy.

I’ve forgotten how to read and telling time is reading something.

so I’m at a lost as to where and when we are living.

 

when we both are moving at the same time,

it appears we’re running away from something,

with the center point moving towards me,

as you move towards me,

i don’t want to think about stopping.

I’ve heard explosions and I’ve been responsible,

and I’ve been a victim of everyone but mostly myself.

because i mistake my central thesis for a person I’ve been missing.

and then the entire thing, life, love, meaning, follows me.

im learning to remove words from my list.

 

 

I don’t think I should be allowed to write

We’re too different, aren’t we? I’m a reductionist. I’m a materialist. I’m a rationalist. But here I am trying to talk about emotions like I ever have them. I’m a robot. I’ve become a machine for analyzing. But I don’t understand what you all think and feel. I want to break it down to molecules while you want to talk about your experience. That’s the hard problem, in case you didn’t know.

Who am I?

No one wants me here.

Sometimes It Gets Too Late

I don’t know how to not be sad,

I’m trying to learn how to distract it,

But movies got old and people did too.

My hair is greying faster than any of you.

Everything lost meaning when I found out I’m typical,

There’s nothing special about me or anyone here.

What am I doing keeping up this charade?

I’ll try to breathe in and remember to breathe out,

But I can’t guarantee how much longer it’ll keep up.

I’m losing now.

I’m going to let you down.