Idiot Savant

What is this winter blues running through my veins? Mixed with crazy anticipation and happiness?? If only I knew what it all meant and where things were going....

If only, I had a clue. Or a life compass to simply point me in the right direction. No, that's not wishful thinking or asking for a lot at all. 

With the year coming to a close, I can't help but focus on the beginning of this year and all the years that preceded it. And each year begins and ends the same; the hope for a better year. And each year takes me on a roller coaster of emotions and experiences. Each one, getting a little better. Even if it doesn't necessarily top the one before it. Just because I change a little. The transformation of yourself is incredible and the fact that you can go to that place in your mind, where there's a rolodex of memories of the way you were...

Simply astounding. 

So as each year passes and you feel yourself almost shift into another person that's an elevated version of your old you, you tend to think of the first you. 

The you that liked Tonka Trucks and Creepy Crawlers, or Lite Bright and Barbies.  I think about how different each me was. Then think about the similarities and that's where I always smile.---->

Cause we're not completely different. Those "old you's" I mean. Cause there's definitely still a part of me that loves the shit out of Creepy Crawlers and Lite Bright! I mean, I still play Hide & Go Seek with my friends, fuck! ha.

Whatever-the-case, my point is that I hope my resolutions for the upcoming New Year aren't filled with empty aspirations and fluff. Every fucking December I going on and on about how I'm gonna do better and be better. And every year I fall behind, just living in the moment without conscience thought of the future. 

Idiot Savant is what I am. Me and all my friends. I've never known of such an amazing group of people, with so much potential & creativity, have absolutely no motivation. It's actually very interesting how I can acknowledge this, and yet still do nothing about changing it. Nah, that's not interesting, that's just stupid. 

So yet again, as I uncork my chilled Sauvignon Blanc, I am hereby making my New Year's Resolution for 2009 to get my shit together! I'm gonna attend Walnut St. Theatre acting course, I'm gonna finally get my driver's license, I'm gonna.... (takes sip &  quickly thinks) ...finish a shitload of sketches & skits and maybe even submit a feature length into a local contest. Who knows. haha! Yeeeahh. I'm shooting for the stars next year....

..I just hope my rocket can make it.

Word Shambles

And once again, as the night slowly drifts into dawn, I find myself up and unable to rest. Too many thoughts to keep track of or even attempt to put on paper. They say you find true enlightenment on nights like these. I agree.
As my fingers shiver across these keys, I contemplate making a cup of hot chocolate. The simple thought brings a smile to my lips. The taste, the warmth, its all an amazing part of winter.

It's funny how the death of summer makes everyone so introspective. I suppose it's due to the closing out of the year. And in the end of something, you tend to think about the beginning. You reflect and grow from your experiences. (Hopefully learning from them.) The fun part comes when you can start planning for the upcoming year. Making choices 

where to spend your time and with whom. Going over all the possibilities and chances you'll have to make new memories. It's all very exciting. And then of course, your mind travels back to the past and to the other side of this year. If you can look back and smile with contention, then you did alright. And if not, you'll get a second chance--so don't go and fuck it up.


---and then the power went out---

That was the beginning of last nights article. So this entry is a two parter. Continuing on...

It's hard to pick up on the energy I had last night, seeing as how today was a huge lazy day for me. I bounced from room to room , simply lounging. Different chairs, couches, patterns and laying positions.  Actually the only thing I successfully did today was my work out routine. That was the high point of my day. Well, with one exception.

A call from an old friend forced me to skip my mid-morning cat nap and trade it in for conversation. Which I didn't mind one bit. It had already been weeks since we last spoke and I always have time in my life for people that mean the world to me.

Ugh, I can see where this entry is headed and I'm not feeling it really. So before I go off on some ramble about the most random things of my day, I'll just cut it short and return when my thoughts are fresh and connected.

New Breed

As my excitement to attend an actual fighting event grew and grew the closer we approached the arena, I found myself filled with all these strange emotions. Happiness, freedom, nostalgia and full fledged giddiness. All strangers to me. It's weird.
But as I enjoy being overwhelmed with optimism, I didn't fight the feeling of being carried away. So as a flowing stream drains, I went along with very single vibration I felt. And it did not lead me astray.


Watching someone you know being punched in the face is quite a feeling. Having your favorite boxer and routing for someone you look up to is one thing. But someone you interact with, that you think is a stand up guy--you don't want to see them being threatened or attacked. That's like, a total.. other... thing. I wanted to crawl into the ring and strangle the guy myself. And as the adrenaline pumps and the hopes get higher, you find yourself more and more territorial of the person in your favor.

So when that person wins... that is quite another feeling. And it just takes you higher. Much higher... it IS pure happiness. All of the happy cells multiply in your head and you're naturally high.

Naturally...






::sigh:: Yeah, I like that a lot. :) A whole lot!





I feel like I slept with a hanger in my mouth....

Green Light

Whooo. Has it been a while? Certainly. So let's just dive right in, shall we? Opening bar at The Raven Lounge last night was an incredible experience that I'll store in my memory. All the trendy boys and girls mixing it up with each other. My drinks helping in the process. Taking it all in, as I observed the melting pot of Friday nights, I realized that I could get use to this. The power of owning bar.... ahh. Maybe not too impressive for some, but I loved it.




I've been realizing a lot of things lately that isn't necessarily surprising or shocking. About myself I mean. And other people I suppose. It's funny how life's cycle just goes around and around. History repeating itself is an understatement. ::snickers::
It's great though. I've been spending a lot of time with a bunch of old friends and there's been all of us together at one place. It feels really awesome and cures my nostalgia craving. I only hope to have moments like that a thousand times over.

Words can't express how empty and full I feel all at the same time. Quite inadequate actually. But I have reason to believe it's going in a good direction. Positive vibes all on that side. Its like the Beach Boys song, "Good Vibrations".

....and that's all I have to say about that.

Growing Hymen

Sex... kind of a big deal. I wish I was having some.

Believe in What??

So... with macaroni and cheese stuck to these keyboards, I will describe to the best of my memory, how it felt to move--very eruptly--into these new walls. And man, was it an adjustment. I didn't appreciate it. The newness. The clean, white, unadjusted, unlived, inexperienced walls. And I was very reluctant to accept it. But alas, I had to.

Much as I chugged before beginning this paragraph, I was prepared and had to accept the consequences of a new spot. I was willing, (as much as i was unwilling), and gradually got use to it. And to be completely honest, I'm still not use to being alone and lonely. Which is one in the same, really. ugh. Here I am again, rambling. I have nothing really to say, then again i have much--but as far as this blog goes...not really. Sometimes I just want to rant, and to be honest that's what this shit is for.

Ever notice how SHIT and This have similar letters. the same EXACT Fucking letters. maybe that means that "this" in ANY context is actually "shit'.. hahah You think?? hah Maybe not.

Either way, I've been working on a script that should sum up my high school years in about 45 minutes. I'm hoping it's not a sham and actually makes sense. (My beer is warm now. warmer than what I'd normally like.)

I must go. This entry has no purpose. Just drunken rambles and singing insanity.



i apologize to the 3 people that tune in. This holds nothing but... nothing but, well.... shit.


better to be proceded.

If Walls Could Talk.

I remember the feeling I had as I walked into the second floor apartment and slowly moved my stuff in from the basement. There was this sense of sadness because it felt like I was leaving my "teenage/high school" years behind. Which I was. Yet still I was so excited, because of the new life I was going to live. Which I did. That time of my life even has it's own smell. Every chapter does, though.

My walls have seen almost everything. Man, when I think about it my mind almost goes into overload. The amount of people at one time. The number of different people. The ones that were permanent fixtures. The ones that weren't. It was quite a time. And for the past four years this has been where I call home. My home. The cool kitchen floor against my hot drunken cheek. Or the couches me & Jess so frequently pouted on due to our horny and loneliness. All of our roommates and their issues, (Kirby puking in the couch & sleeping in it). Themed parties, straight boys kissing, indoor ollying, x cherry popping, streaking, vodka waterfalls and naked manginas. My apartment literally has seen it all.

I won't say too much more, because if my walls could talk, I don't believe they'd want me spending too much time grieving over leaving them behind. We had a magnificent run and shared uber special moments and memories. Seriously, words cannot express how much laughter has been exchanged in this place. I could develop abs from how much we would laugh.
Yep, it was something awfully special.

Friday I say goodbye to my longtime friend and will say hello to a new set of walls. I wonder what new experiences we'll have together. I find myself feeling the same way I did when I moved into my first apartment. This time is a little harder I must say though. I'm leaving the nest and the familiarity I've grown to love about my crappy small apartment. All the suckiness, happiness, laughter, boredom, bitterness, anymosity, drunken times, drunken tears, busted laptops, party friends... all the pizza boxes, delicious ham dinners, horniness, masturbating interruptions, witches across the street and late night conversations that saved each others sanity....

Nostalgic is an understatement.

Effortlessly Memorable.

Can you remember back when you were half your age? Can you remember what you wanted to be and what you wanted to achieve by a certain age? I can. And I'm sure many of you can as well. (Because I have many people tuning in...) It really hasn't been that long, despite what feels like centuries. Growing up throws all these random twists and turns and new interests and addictions your way. It's all about side-stepping and/or overcoming the obstacles.
I definitely know a thing or two about hurdling landmines. Enter; this article.

Seeing as how I've procrastinated a large portion of my life and have recently been getting shit together piece by piece, I'm realizing that the ride itself, may not have been in vain. I've got lots of shit to say, about many things, important, trivial or otherwise. Lots to say and nothing all at the same time.Like a quiet drunken old man sitting at the far end of a bar, keeping to himself. He won't bother anyone, but if you entertain him with conversation he'll spill words of wisdom. Amazing words of life and unbiased experience, with nothing to show for it except for an imaginary degree in Life & Love. Enter; myself.

The purpose of this blog, is because I'm auditioning tomorrow against all of these Philadelphia/King of Prussia/Jersey Devil chick-a-dicks in a talent competition if you will. My plan is to be completely uncaring, (even though, we all know I do), because that has been a great factor for getting notice, I've discovered. Going into auditions primped up and vaseline teethed out doesn't get me anywhere. However, showing up sick and snotty or tipsy and nonchalant, gets me modeling contracts--so upon further inspection I've decided to show up tomorrow, 4 beers in and 3 Tequila shots down. I think I'll make the perfect impression. Alcoholic? Call it what you will. I have a talent, it's the perception of being whomever I decide to be depending on the role. I'm called an actor. My level of dedication shouldn't be miscontrued with normalcy.

Let's light the fireworks and see how far I get.

Effortlessly Memorable.

Can you remember back when you were half your age? Can you remember what you wanted to be and what you wanted to achieve by a certain age? I can. And I'm sure many of you can as well. (Because I have many people tuning in...) It really hasn't been that long, despite what feels like centuries. Growing up throws all these random twists and turns and new interests and addictions your way. It's all about side-stepping and/or overcoming the obstacles.

I definitely know a thing or two about hurdling landmines. Enter; this article.

Seeing as how I've procrastinated a large portion of my life and have recently been getting shit together piece by piece, I'm realizing that the ride itself, may not have been in vain. I've got lots of shit to say, about many things, important, trivial or otherwise. Lots to say and nothing all at the same time.
Like a quiet drunken old man sitting at the far end of a bar, keeping to himself. He won't bother anyone, but if you entertain him with conversation he'll spill words of wisdom. Amazing words of life and unbiased experience, with nothing to show for it except for an imaginary degree in Life & Love. Enter; myself.

California Love

So I have officially decided. And it's fucking on!! I'm going, going back, back to Cali, Cali. I am fairly excited. Although it's one of those things that hasn't really set in yet. I'm still waiting for it to sink to the bottom. Finally, after two and a half years; a vacation. All time coming too. You'd think my honeymoon would've been a vacation for me, huh? If you can call it that.

I suppose I shouldn't officially say that it's official until I book my flight. And I cannot book my flight until I get up that extra two hundred dollars. Did you know flying roundtrip to San Diego isn't that expensive at all? I was shocked.
God, I can't wait for that soft sun (I hope it's still soft), sandy beach, breezy air and lovely tacos from Pedro's. I am completely elated that Jena is having me as her guest and can't wait to drunkenly stumble on the sand.

It's going to be something.

Sleepless Insomnia

Ever wonder why you & your body still feel so incredibly tired even if you've gotten 8 hours of sleep, or maybe more? Well it's basically because your mind wants to be on auto-pilot for one reason or another. A Break-up, a test you haven't (or have) studied for, closure, exciting trip, etc. I always assumed that it was because of something like that, but of course, never looked too far into it.

So upon waking up at 1:30 AM today and forcing myself back to slumber, I asked my brain in its half wake mode why I felt so worn down despite the 9:45 bedtime retreat. I couldn't really get anything out of it but jumbles and different visuals from today. So back to sleep I went. Fortunately for Arden, I didn't get to sleep very long. His constant stratching at the door called for my immediate attention, so here I am at 5:29 AM writing about sleep deprivation and the reasons that cause it. Check this out;

"In animal sleep, a sloth sleeps 20 hours a day while a porpoise sleeps half a brain at a time. Birds do not sleep and rabbits and squirrels sleep 10-14 hours a day. People need a wide variation of sleep and can range from 1-10 hours a day. There is more need for sleep at birth, while as we age our sleep needs are less and lighter.
Sleep problems are a common symptom for people who are recovering from traumatic events. One's usual methods for falling asleep may no longer work. Disturbing thoughts of reenactment, rescue or reunion may interfere with one's sleep cycle. Nightmares and sleep terrors occur in response to adjusting to shattered realties."

Certainly explains a lot about my sleep behavior currently/recently and in the past. I suppose you can't blame it all on the ole noggin and its busy activities. It can be asinine reasons such as your fucking stupid piece of shit clock that seems to click like a car crash every second, or maybe just the reality of the silent minutes mounting on your LCD alarm clock. Maybe it's the full bladder of your obedient cat, or the persistant doubt & regret that's always been in the pit of your stomach.

Whatever's keeping you up tonight or tomorrow night, just invest in some Dewar's Scotch. You may trade insomnia in for alcohol abuse--but at least you got some sleep lastnight.

Broken Down; Laughter

Laughter: An audible expression, or appearance of merriment, or happiness, or an inward feeling of joy and pleasure (laughing on the inside). It may ensue (as a physiological reaction) from jokes, tickling and other stimuli.

"Drugs, such as Cannabis, can also induce episodes of strong laughter. Strong laughter can sometimes bring an onset of tears or even moderate muscular pain. Laughter is a part of human behavior regulated by the brain. It helps humans clarify their intentions in social interaction and provides an emotional context to conversations. Laughter is used as a signal for being part of a group — it signals acceptance and positive interactions with others. Laughter is sometimes seemingly contagious, and the laughter of one person can itself provoke laughter from others as a positive feedback This may account in part for the popularity of laugh tracks in situation comedy television shows.

The Laughter Effect
The feeling when an individual observes or hears a majority of the group laughing, but the individual doesn't find the subject matter that the group is laughing at funny. Therefore the individual fakes a laugh so nobody ask individual why individual didn't think it was funny or feel left out from the majority of the group. Either that or the individual didn't understand the joke so the individual plays along. "

isn't that neat?

Cut Here

So I was riding the Regional Rail today and couldn't help but think about the nostalgic past. What I've left behind, what I've got to look forward to, what I haven't done and what I'd like to do again.

A few things came to mind...

A few of the same things came to mind, actually.

This particular blog doesn't have significant meaning. It won't have a solution or a plot point either. Just mindless rambling.

Death Cab's, "Sound Of Settling", is the perfect soundtrack for my current emotions. It captures every thought that passes through my uncurable brain. That regret. That thought, that maybe you could've done something different... that thought that maybe you should've done something different. Responded a little differently. Kissed a little harder. Held a little longer.

Or maybe you're simply blessed with no regrets. If so, I'd sure as hell would love to look you in the eye and shake your hand. Because that really is amazing. Truely. It'd prove to me that there is still hope. Not for me, but it's still nice to know.

Bump.

Toot toot, motherfucker.

Sushi For The Pale Faces

For my final installment of the evening I will close with an assignment I've received from a fellow Blogger buddy. And as noncontroversial as this topic is, I am proceeding on with observations.

Sushi has been around for many, many moons. Some people like it and some people think the idea of eating raw fish is worse than chewing on a steaming mid-summer's day pile of elephant dung. The word itself means "it's sour", maybe that has something to do with it.

Although sushi can be seasoned several ways to become awfully tasty, some people believe others are faking it simply to look cool. Imagine the horror. I've investigated these accusations for the last three minutes and discovered some shocking evidence.

In the book "Top 100 Stuff White People Like", #42 is Sushi!!! Allegedly it's everything white people want along with really gay looking lap dogs (probably so they can finger them--maybe just to look Colonial in pictures--but most likely so they can finger them) The number 42 spot is represented with this chilling quote: "...all white people love sushi. To them it's everything; foreign culture, expensive, healthy, and hated by the ‘uneducated'..."

Wow. Shocking huh? Ha! The idea that some people fake liking sushi in order to appear like pseudo intellectual types is rubbish. No one who doesn't like sushi could pose as a sushi lover, unless of course they're anorexic too. Which, let's face it, most white people are. ...I kid...a little.

Man. This article was really fucking dumb.

Rap Is The New Crack

Ahh... rap, hip-hop, urban music, gansta rap, inner city noise, off-colored pollution, jungle music, dope rhymes, ill-tainment, the game or however you refer to it. I'm here to say that "it" is dead. So dead.

The death rattle occured over some 120 months ago, or ten years to others. I think it's safe to say that it died with Tupac and Biggie. Of course there have been a few heavy hitters on the long journey to the present. In my personal opinion I'd say Jay-Z, Mos def and Kanye are a couple. But they can't do it all alone. Southern rap has ruined hip-hop culture by slaughtering our ari-waves with their redundent computer beats and idiot proof lyrics. Not to mention destroying pop culture with those asinine dance moves. Seriously, it's as if a paralyzed man attempted to bust a move.

Doesn't anyone remember Biz Markie and Dougie Fresh? EPMD and Maughty By Bature? Why do we allow this garbage to persist? It's like "Flowers For Algernon", we cannot accept any less now. And yet somehow we have. What is that about? And why is it that those old school rappers haven't return? rap badly needs to be rescued. Where are our hip-hop saviors? Laying low watching reruns o f"Rock"? This is a Rap Depression here! the 1930's of hip-hop. There needs to be a rebirth. And it can start by refusing this maggot shit they've been calling rap. Slam the radio stations with requests for old school rap, write and spit your ownshit--who knows, you might be the breath of fresh air we need, and although that latest Lil Jon hit single may be catchy--deep down ya know it isn't good.--->

Come on people, we're better than this. now let's get our shit together and accept nothing less than true, banging, hip-hop madness.

Fight the power!

Movie Rape

It's strange how movies can affect your life isn't it? The way it can shift and dictate your emotions. I was watching "Easy Rider" last night for like the 20th time and upon it's ending I found myself badly wanting an escape. Just anything to break this brab repetition I call my life. My husband's usually miserable if not pissed about something. And I'm far too talented to not be doing something with myself, which in turn makes me stupid.
But enough about that mess, I was talking about "Easy Rider". Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper and Jack Nicholson got me a-thinking, movies, influence you way too much. What if watching "Easy Rider" last night prompted me to empty my joint bank account, catch a three day train ride to California--never returning, therefore, ending my marriage and abandoning all responsibilities I have here in Philadelphia.

It's alright though, I watched "The Shawshank Redeption", this morning and suddenly didn't want to run away from it all anymore. I simply wanted to overcome all obstacles and fight for a better life. Seemed more honorable. Nobel, you know, it's more my style anyhow.
Which brings me back to my very, very long point. Movies can really shape you and your mood. I may very well be two "Jay & Silent Bob Strikes Back"'s away from high tailing it outta this joint.
Even if I were to focus on positive movies such as hopeless romantic ones I'd just be focusing on how my marriage isn't anything like that and how our love seems states away from movie love. Then again, show me a truly happy couple and I'll show you one of them that desires something else or something new. Maybe not, what the hell do I know? Not to worry! "High Fidelity" is here to save the day. The raw and on point reality of most relationships. It covers it all. The boredom, the disipating sex, the lies, the anymosity, the boredom. Ehh. The ending is pretty acurate, I suppose. The agonizing, dull realization that you're with a person who has the dirty underwear as John Cusak's character puts it. And that's okay. Therefore, making me okay.

It's a sick power that movies possess. Such an influence. It's borderline dangerous. I mean, if I watch "Dead Presidents" or "Point Break" too often I start thinking funny and getting ideas.
I guess the bottom line is that you can't depend on movies to get you through things. And you probably shouldn't let movies influence your life because if you tried to pull off the same shit they do in films, well... you wouldn't. They glorify the shit out of optimistic endings. Plus let's face it with your OR my luck, we simply wouldn't ride off into the sunset with that perfect stranger we run into by chance and happens to be available and attracted to you equally.

Stick to sitcoms and weekday HBO.

Commuting.

Awake.

Coffee's brewing somewhere. All over.

Everywhere.

Dancing leaves.

Power walking streets too wet to push.

Metal gear shifting on tracks.

Speaking doors, open.

Sustain buzzing of the AC.

My battery's on its last leg.

Morning faces. Droopy, unpleased faces.

Greyer skies with layers of clay blue.

Wandering thoughts mixed with memories and "should haves".

My radio died.

Piss stenced hallways.

Unfortunate poverty right beside them.

Walks by; a handsome man.

'Ooo, what I would do to--'

I'm late for my train.

Swift legs.

Quick dash through people traffic and arrive at a place I dread most mornings.

this is my commute to my living.