everything is fine

The other day I decided that it was finally time to get rid of my toys. It was something that I had been thinking about for a long time, but never acted on for multiple reasons. Chief among them, the fact that I still played with them from time to time. I'm just a boy. I can't resist opening my Lego box or busting out my action figures every once in a while. You just get that urge to sit down and let go of all of the nonsense you're forced to deal with every day. Plus, I mean, some of these toys are pretty badass. I'd sit down and play with them until the sun came up, unfolding a plastic drama on my carpet and realizing I'd never be able to part with any of it. The sentimentality and the creativity they fueled. But, after months and years of telling myself I would and after months and years of being told I should, I did. And it was so easy at first. I mean, when was the last time I played with G.I. Joe? Or those generic soldier action figures? Just as soon as I...

I'm sure I've said it many times over, but shows like The Prisoner really resonate with me. Not the remake, of course, because it was garbage. The actual one. At its core, it was a single man against the system. Maintaining his individuality in the face of conforming to a homogeneous society. But more fundamental than a social struggle. It was the single man resisting the power that was both corrupt and absolute. Even though everybody else complied and tried to break him down, he still held to what he knew to be right and wrong. And that stuck with me. At the end of our conversation, whatever it had been about, my dad turned to me. "It's not something people like to acknowledge. The only rights you have are the ones you are willing to fight for." He pulled the truck to a stop and killed the engine. "You are a free man," he said. "Whether or not you realize it. Whether or not you choose to realize it." And with that, we went inside t...

I, really, kind of don't want to be here anymore. Not in the sense that I am dissatisfied with my life or my present situation--which isn't to say that I'm not , because I am in a way--but in the sense that I am dissatisfied with the lack of things happening. I keep looking around. Out the window of my room. Out the window of my car. Out the window of the living room. I want to be on the other side of that glass. That's where the action is. I need, desperately, an adventure. I need to go somewhere. See something. Anywhere, anything. I don't care where or what as long as it's happening. I want to travel so badly. Grab my backpack and my camera and walk away. I'd settle for going to the same state park I've been to a hundred times over. It's this routine I'm stuck in. Seeing the same shit every day, going through the same motions. I need to change it up, break things. I need some vitality--being cooped up is killing me. What I re...

I watched them as I quietly locked up my bike. They were in the alley. Or, rather, she was in the alley and so was he. He was getting more aggressive, and she was trying to leave. They hadn't noticed me and I wanted to keep it that way. He didn't look like somebody I wanted to tangle with. But the fact was, they were where I wanted to be. "Leave me alone," she seemed to say, trying not to make a large scene. "I said get over here, bitch." He seemed to reply. He continued to get up close to her even as she tried desperately to get away. I kept my head down and hugged the wall as I tried to pass by, unnoticed. He puffed out his chest and knocked her to the ground. I stopped. He continued to get up in her business and, finally, jumped on top of her. "What now?" I imagined him growling at her as he dug into her back and stepped on her head. I stepped out into the alley. "Hey," I challenged. "Leave her alone." He turned t...

I actually can get along quite well with little kids. And in a totally non-creepy way. It's got something to do with me not actually ever growing up completely, I guess. I'm still desperately clinging on to my childhood persona. And it lets me relate to younger people with much success. On of my friends talked to me at length about such things and we decided we were both at the advantage since we both were in the same situation in that regard. It's why I have more fun drawing Ben the Box Boy than all the other stuff. But I don't like kids when they go through my room and touch my things. Or worse, talk to me. My dad had invited some work friends over for the weekend, and one brought his son. As soon as he got inside the house he disappeared up the stairs. When I got upstairs I found him rifling through my bookshelf, toys, and closet. And playing with a yo-yo in my room. The second time I came upstairs he confronted me. "You have a lot of knives sitting ...

I don't really have a good sense of moderation. I never have. It's something I struggle with, I guess. And it seems like it shouldn't be such a problem since balance is one of those tenets I try to base my life around. I guess I have trouble with moderation because I also have trouble with balance. These things are difficult. But it's not so much a difficulty exhibiting moderation with vices--drinking, smoking, gambling, womanizing, thievery, leaving toilet seats up, etc.--as it is a difficulty exhibiting moderation in a reflexive sense. It's something I notice most often, and ignore, when I do something that requires physical strain. Like athletics, competitive or otherwise. Most people seem to have a dimmer switch of intensity, where they can appropriately adjust the output of their intensity in response to factors both environmental and personal. They generally never push themselves beyond capacity unless they truly have to, and they make sure to mellow o...

As not riding it around would make me even tardier than usual, I frequently ride my bike around campus. The other day, as I made my way back to my car after a particular vile round of classes, I found myself stuck behind a massive youth volleyball team. I slowed down and sort of idled along behind them, lost to my angry musings. But, then, a little girl in the back turned to look at me. She smiled and I smiled back, and then she began tapping the shoulders of her teammates. "Hey," she said. "Get out of the way." And so she ran ahead of me, clearing her cow-like team off the sidewalk and eventually we found ourselves at the head of the entire group. She turned to me and beamed proudly. "Thank you so much." I said. "You're welcome." She said. "Team captain, right?" I asked. Her smile dropped slightly. "No." "Ah, well." I said. "Sounds like your coach made a big mistake." I looked up at the woma...

I often struggle--grapple--with my temper. More often than I'd like to admit. Too often, probably. I've done a pretty good job keeping it in check over the years, I think, but every once in a while things get to be a bit much. Maybe it has something to do with faulty temperature regulation. Maybe you just wake up some days and everything in your head lines up such that you don't take shit from anybody the whole day. Or week. Or month. Uncontrolled tempers cause serious problems. This, I know. People tend not to respond well to you when burst into furious flames of unbridled, you know, fury. I have to make a conscious effort every day to keep myself in line. Like yesterday. When my Mexican-American history professor canceled class via e-mail the morning of. When I got my genetics test back and found that they had failed to properly calculate my grade--an error which penalized me significantly--and then forced me to jump hoops to get it fixed. When my American culture pr...

Some people think I take driving too seriously, I think. And it's not that I don't , it's just not what they think is going on. I actually love driving. I love driving around and going places. Partly because of the very mild sense of travel and adventure, mostly because it affords a very unique opportunity to multitask. I like driving because it's a mental challenge. And so people comment that I'm too intense when I drive because, even when I'm with friends and there's good music on the radio, I'm still holding the steering wheel and looking forward. And it's not that, exactly. I'm keeping tabs on everything. I'm watching the guy three cars ahead of me in the other lane getting ready to recklessly weave between lanes to merge blindly on the freeway, I'm watching the woman in my blind spot who is about to cut sharply into my lane, I'm watching the car speeding nervously through the intersection ahead. I'm observing and register...

I've come to realize recently that, visually speaking, I am attracted to very simple things. Clean things. I love modern architecture. Neutral, cold colors. Straight lines and organic curves. Sterile environments. Not to say that I dislike classical or embellished, dramatic things. I just really like simple things. Keep it clean. I've also been considering the types of people I let into my life. Or, rather, the people I let stay . I had some surprisingly deep conversations out at the beach on the subject of friends, and I've been thinking ever since. It's time, I think, to start getting serious about my social circle. About the list of people I designate as friends. And to start holding onto them. Which means, in some cases, reconnecting. A daunting task, surely, but it's worth it. This is what's important--not grade transcripts--to be happy.

A couple days ago I stopped my car just in time to let a crippled bird hoppity-hop his way across the road. He jumped up onto the curb and looked back at me as if to thank me for my consideration before I continued on my way. Then, as I drove home, a typical Westlake mom almost sideswiped me when she dramatically tried to jerk her car into my lane. I guess I can't get too upset at that since I was basically in her blind spot. Oh wait, it was actually the opposite. I was actually mostly in front of her-- she was basically in my blind spot. She sped up in her lane and sort of made a halfhearted apologetic gesture with her bejeweled hand and I sped the rest of the way home, leaving her far behind. Not to be blasphemous, but this is probably how Jesus felt when he did good things and everybody around him was an ass. I really was excited to take these history classes over the summer. "History of Mexican Americans in the U.S." and "Main Current American Culture Sinc...

A couple of days ago, as I was leaving the research campus with my friend to go home, a woman approached me with her bike. "Excuse me," she said. "By any chance, are you headed that way?" She pointed off in the general direction that was the only way to leave campus. "Why yes." I said. "If it's not too much to ask," she started. "Because my bicycle has a flat tire--" "Sure." I said. "We can fit your bike in here, too." And with that, we drove a Belgian woman home. She told us about her family back in Belgium and how we have a better education system here and we're more bike friendly than Europe and how she misses her family and Skypes with them in the evenings. We dropped her off and continued on our original route. Later, as I entered the final stretch of my homeward journey, I saw a large something in the road. As I got closer, I realized it was a large turtle. I quickly pulled off into the should...

When I was on the boat doing science at Galveston, I saw a lot of dolphins. It was a significant experience for me because I have never actually seen a wild dolphin in real life before. It was sort of a dream come true. And in the middle of the shipping channel, no less. They really are amazing animals. It really kills me to realize I'll probably never see dolphins in Galveston again because of what happened to the Gulf. What is happening to the Gulf. It really is a tragedy. On a much lighter note, I started this Insanity workout program and it was so intense that I threw up before I finished the first workout. That is a good sign, I think. It is certainly an incentive to complete the entire thing. Anything that makes you feel that bad so quickly must be good for you.

I thought I had seen people drink before. Hell, I thought that I had drank before. But, clearly, I thought wrong on both of those counts. I cannot, for the life of me, think of a reason to justify all of the drinking that transpired down there last week. There was no rhyme or reason to it, it just was. Field work just makes a man thirsty. Taking this class was easily one of the best things I've ever done. We worked hard every day out in the field. Wake up at 7, leave the beach house by 8, hit the water by 9. My first three field days were in service on the R/V Acadiana , a 58 foot vessel that towed the CHIRP fish , the air gun, and the streamer to measure all the seismic data--looking at the subsurface of the seafloor we drove over. My second ship was the R/V Itasca using the multibeam , sidescan , and grab sampler --getting seafloor surface bathymetry. They were long, exhausting days and we returned to the docks around 6 or 7 every evening. And then, drinking. So much ...

Every once in a while I start feeling like I want to explore religion again. It's a cyclic sort of mindset. Comes and goes like some sort of wave function. I think about doing it, but then I never really do. I always back out and return to my ambiguously spiritual mentality. I'm drawn to the guidance, I think. In the face of a lot of contrary sentiment, I have a lot of respect for religious people. That sort of thing takes a lot of inner strength and dedication. Having faith, I mean. Those people get a lot of flak for having a set code of morals and values that they--mostly--stick to, which is something I'll never be able to understand. I'm just too antsy about making philosophical decisions like that. Too obsessive about trying to find the balance in everything. I'm not religious or logical, I'm somewhere in the middle. I'm spiritual. Or, at least, I think I'm spiritual. Or, I want to think I'm spiritual. Or, I think I want to think ...

It really kind of blows my mind how quickly this semester went by. This last week in particular. Each semester seems to go by much more quickly than the previous one. It's like driving down a steep hill with the accelerator to the floor and hitting a ramp at the bottom and flying through the air but then getting out of the car because it was a simulation the whole time and you aren't going to die--twist ending! These last couple of days I've been having to convince myself that it's not just a long weekend before classes continue. This is summer. It's time to kick back and enjoy things and relax. Except, it is just a long weekend before classes continue. My marine geology lecture starts up on Wednesday. I'm reasonably nervous--being a completely inexperienced and unqualified undergraduate taking a class that is largely composed of graduate students. But I had the professor's assurance that it would be a fun class, and I think I trust him on that. I...

The airhorn sounded and for a brief moment I panicked. For a brief moment I was frozen in place. People scrambled around me, huffing and puffing. Diving behind whatever was closest. Sprinting forward. Gunfire crackled immediately from the distance. I pulled my gun to my chest and rushed for the nearest barricade. They had all gone further up the field from me. Closer to the battle. I peeked around the wooden wall. People sprinted and slid across the grass to get behind barriers and inside bunkers. I crouched down low and ran for the next barrier. And the next. When the barrels I was hiding behind stopped resonating with the plunking of enemy fire, I peeked out again. And raised my gun, and fired. Paintball was actually pretty damn fun. I admit, readily, that I wasn't particularly optimistic about the whole event when we started out. A large amount of college girls coupled with a significant number of clearly experienced players who had also decided to go paintballing ...

The building I walk to in the mornings for classes has a large air intake vent that is part of the outside wall. There are always things stuck up against the grating. Leaves, papers, plastic bags. These things just get sucked up into it, I guess. This morning there was a bird. He had gotten sucked up against the grating. He could fly away from it--maybe a foot--but he would always get sucked back to the wall. I paused and watched him for a second. No matter how hard he tried, he always got sucked in again. And I started thinking. We get ourselves into trouble a lot. Trouble that could be easily avoided. Of all possible places for him to fly, that bird flew right by the intake vent. And then he couldn't get away. That's exactly what happens to us. There's something we know we shouldn't get involved with, something we should do, yet we do anyway. And things often go bad, and we get screwed. And, often, we're too proud to ask for help. Which makes thing...

It was totally by accident that I found it. I mean, I never check that e-mail address and I probably never would have if it hadn't been brought up in conversation. But I did and nestled somewhere between the dozens of spam e-mails sat a message from an old friend. September 20, 2009. What was I doing in September? Writing pseudo-angsty bullshit, probably. But my friend was not. It was a heart-felt message about friendship and it killed me to be responding to it seven or eight months after the fact. Communication is a difficult thing. I often feel like I'm not as great a friend as I could be. As I should be. And I hate that. I should be more supportive. I should be more accessible. I should be more open. I should be better. It's something to work on, I guess. In my never-ending and often reckless pursuit of adventure, I impulsively signed up for a Marine Geology Field Course this summer. Go to the coast for a week? Alright. Go out on boats into the ocean? A...

A doctor came to speak at our lecture series the other day. Honestly, I don't even remember what kind of doctor he was. I don't remember any of the questions he answered. I don't remember any of the anecdotes he related. I don't remember any of the insight he imparted on us or any of the wisdom he shared. Except for one thing, which really resonated with me at the time. "The biggest challenge facing you as pre-health profession students," he said before the lecture ended. "Is the overwhelming cynicism of our society." He's right. He's right, and it's awful. I'm a pretty cynical guy, but at least I know it's a joke. That everything is a huge joke. But everybody is so jaded these days. We just can't stand to entertain the thought that maybe--just maybe--things aren't as bad as we think they are. As we want them to be. That maybe--just maybe--people aren't always selfish pieces of shit. There have been a lot ...

I was watching some people parallel park the other day. It blows my mind--really--how bad people are at driving. One guy tried to park his little compact in a huge space. He put his nose straight in and then tried to back up and straighten himself out. He went back and forth a few times, angling his car this way and that until he ended up in the middle of the street. Then he pulled forward and tried to back into it. He angled too sharply and ended up running right into the curb. He pulled forward and backed into it again and again with no progress. Finally, flustered, he gave up and sped away from the spot. Another girl tried to park her car in the first spot on the row. She pulled up along the length of curb in front of the spot and her friend jumped out to spot her. The girl tried to back up slowly into the spot--a technique that required driving straight for about 10 feet--but ended up rubbing and scraping her car against the curb before she made it the entire distance. S...

Where do my days go? I seem to have a real hard time keeping track of my time these days. Like, tests and deadlines and such suddenly seem to go by. Suddenly there is only a week left in school. When did that happen? Feels sort of like a rug was pulled out from under me but I'm only just now realizing it. I think I'm ready for everything scholastic to be over. Which will never happen. But, one can hope, I suppose.

People say the dumbest shit sometimes. We were walking down the street earlier today and overheard a conversation between a boy and a girl. She was clearly very worked up about something. Or at least acting like whatever she was talking about was something she felt strongly about. You can always tell because someone like that will walk sideways alongside you as they'll try to face you directly when they talk at you. It's a tactic to convince you that they believe what they are saying. He didn't look particularly interested. "One American baby," she said. "Is, like, forty African babies." That was the entire snippet of conversation we overheard. What the hell does that even mean ?

I really like movie soundtracks. I was thinking about it the other day. I feel like I've missed out on a lot of really good cinematic experiences because I didn't sit in a theater and hear which ever iconic theme play. Like Star Wars. I saw Star Wars when they re-released the original trilogy, but the significance of the experience didn't hit me until later. It's like hearing the Superman theme play before Superman Returns. I never got the opportunity to hear that anthem blasting in a theater until then. Or Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, which sucked. But at least I got to hear the theme--for myself--in the theater. Or Casino Royale. Waiting an entire James Bond movie--which was totally worth it--to hear the theme I already knew so well. I'm really sure what it is I'm getting at, but in an incoherent way movie soundtracks have a significant emotional impact on me. Also, I just really fucking like listening to them. I feel like my brain is meltin...

Not that I am--or ever was--a particularly unshapely guy, I'm starting to feel pretty out of shape. Not grossly so, mind you, but just maybe a little mushy on the edges. And I'll be honest: I do not like it. The other day I ate an obscene amount of food and was still feeling overly full well into the next day. Then, when I didn't feel so full, I felt sore. Sore. I ate so much food that my body was sore . That, I think, is pretty terrible. I mean, damn . Who the hell gets sore from eating food? I do, apparently, and I am ashamed. I'm going to start exercising some more, though. And by exercising some more , I of course mean I'll start exercising period. Because I actually don't make it out to the gym anymore. I got some pretty radical swimsuits though, so I hope that's enough of a kick in the dick in the balls to start swimming. Swimming regularly. And running. And I need to go mountain biking. And rock climbing. All I'm saying is that ...

It feels a lot like I'm losing my struggle against every day. All my time just sort of disappears and I never really feel like doing anything. Like drawing or writing. And those are things I need to do. Also, studying. The year is just catching up to me, I guess. I can feel it in my increasingly slouchier posture. I thought I already fixed that, too. Just a few more weeks. I tried to pee the other day, but I had a problem. I couldn't find the fly to my boxers. So I searched, frantically, to find it. It's certainly normal for it to shift one way or the other during the day, but I couldn't find it. Oh no , I panicked. My boxers don't have a fly anymore. In the end I had to pull everything down to go about my urgent business. I later found out that I had been wearing them backwards the whole day. And I realized something. If you take something for granted long enough, you are bound for disappointment. Clothing yourself is a lot like maintaining a relat...

I have no idea what constitutes good writing. Is it proper grammar and spelling? A strong sense of eloquence and erudition? It's honesty, I guess. You have to write honestly. About honest things. Man, who even knows. I don't. I haphazardly string incoherent thoughts together before I fall asleep and somehow that qualifies as good writing. So if I tried , I could be a great writer?

This medication was prescribed because it will help me. It'll help improve the quality of my sleep so that I don't feel awful during the day. It'll help me start feeling pretty good again. It'll help me feel better, not that I feel particularly terrible. I've had it for, oh, a couple of weeks at this point yet I haven't taken any of it. Why haven't I taken it? Because I am a self-saboteur. Because I don't take care of myself. Because I'm afraid it makes me weak. Because I'm afraid it'll become a crutch. Because I'm afraid of medication in general. No, because one of the side effects is possibly wetting the bed. I don't want to piss all over my bed during the night. I feel like that won't really improve the quality of my sleep. It's just apprehension, really. And I've already been set straight on this whole business, which is why I now find myself staring down two doses of this stuff and setting an alarm. It...

I saw The Hurt Locker the other day. I actually quite enjoyed it. I was worried that the whole we don't film movies with tripods anymore and we like fast zooms would ruin it for me, but it wasn't to the point where I had to close my eyes or leave for a few minutes to steady myself. Like District 9 did. But either way, the last bit really stuck with me. He tells his son that you start life loving everything around you, completely fascinated by everything. And then, he continues, when you grow up you find out you love fewer things until you realize maybe you only love one or two things. Or maybe just one thing. I'm finally starting to figure things out. I, near the end of my junior year in college, have finally declared a major. No longer am I an undeclared third-year geoscience student. No, I am officially a general geology student going for a Bachelor's of Science. I even know how long it'll take me to graduate from college. I'm actually going to ...

I don't know about all of this religious stuff but according to this guy, I have the Spirit inside of me now. I opened myself to the Lord and now I'm on my way to knowing the Word. I don't feel anything though. He said as long as I said the prayer it would be sincere, but I don't know if it was sincere or not. I guess I just need to do more thinking about it. I don't really want to think about difficult things like that right now. Difficult things like faith and the future and things like that. Because who even knows what to do with that. I kind of just want to hang out and watch Batman. And I really just have no drive to write about anything. I just need to think about stuff.

So I may or may not be freaking out about college at this point, and by may or may not I of course mean absolutely am . I mean, I'm just totally fucked. I have so many requirements as yet unfulfilled. It's awful. I just feel so lost and unprepared--and all of a sudden, too. I'm so behind on my geology plan--my fucking major --that it's pathetic. In fact, I haven't even declared a major yet, apparently. I'm wrapping up my third year as an undeclared geosciences student. There's just something wrong with that. And I've barely even considered pre-medical requirements. Recommendation letters? Three of them? From who? I don't know any of my professors well enough to ask them for anything. I don't have any hospital volunteering stuff. I'm not, like, the president of some organization. I don't even think I'm in any organizations. I don't go to UT Grotto meetings anymore. I don't even know when they are. For fuck...

It's bizarre, I think, to realize something like that. To sit there eating my blueberry pancakes and suddenly come to that realization. I just watched a family fall apart. I saw a family completely disintegrate over the course of a week. My dad told me my mom and her sister are like gasoline and fire. "They're just waiting." And now, with no parental ties to keep them together, all of the siblings split. A weekend was all it took for that part. My mom and my aunt won't ever speak again. And my uncle? My uncle spent most of his best years taking care of his parents--my grandparents. My mom moved out of state, my aunt moved to a different city, but he stayed and lived with both of them. He took care of his mom when she got sick with her cancers and degenerative addictions and whatnot. His hair, what's left of it, is completely gray. He married and divorced once, before he dropped everything to take care of his parents. He's still single. When ...

This is something I feel very strongly about. So strong are my emotions about it, in fact, that I have haphazardly drafted this singular post about it on the fly. I hope, for your sake, that you are seated as I deal with this incredibly important social issue and say controversial things--the likes of which give women the vapors. Shorts. I fucking hate shorts. I hate them because you can't look cool in them. Think about it. Have you ever seen an action hero save the world wearing shorts? No. Action heroes wear pants. Men wear pants. People who save the world wear pants. Pants, pants, pants. Nobody wears shorts excepts, like, stoners, lazy guys, and dudes. And bros. Those archetypes do not do adventurous things. Indiana Jones? Pants. Robocop? Pants. Flapjack? Pants. Bear Grylls? Pants. Australian stereotypes? Shorts. Australia really likes to try to censor their internet content. That doesn't sound so awesome and/or manly to me. To prove my conclusion that shorts a...

What a weekend. I mean, I don't really know what else to say besides that. It started off great. Ashley and I spent some time together after having dated for a year. That was nice. We ate a whole cake in less than a day. But it was a damn good cake. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting. Like, damn . Does cake get any better than that? No, probably not. And then both of my mom's parents died. Nobody really saw that coming, so it's been a rough time trying to sort everything out amidst people being people (read: disgusting, selfish animals) and people being stupid (read: people). And then I got sick and had a great time waiting in the lobby of the St. David's Emergency Department. Nobody else was there for any obvious sort of medical emergency, and that made me really mad. I mean, I was sitting there convulsing for a few hours while Joe Moocher and Jane Addict toddled off to take up all the beds in the department. We are in for some trouble times, I think. B...

Not really the news I wanted to hear. It's just been one of those weeks. But it is not the time to be trifled with such things. It is the time for studying a lot. And worrying about everything.

There were a lot of things on my plate, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. It never gets to that point. Anything that comes my way is dealt with immediately. Maybe it's not attended to, but it's at least considered. I triage everything. But then, today, I mistakenly thought I had another chemistry lab write up due tomorrow that I had completely forgotten. And that was the straw. I just sort of shut down for a few minutes. Five, maybe ten. I just sat there and silently freaked out. It was a real "all systems: fuck" sort of thing. For a few minutes, I was convinced I wouldn't be able to do anything and that it was just all too much. For a few minutes, I was completely overwhelmed. And it was a bad feeling because I never am. I refuse to believe it's possible. So I kicked myself and got to work putting things in order and set up the rest of my night. Then, I was allowed to start chewing again. Which, admittedly, I do not like as much ...