Lack of Awareness

Today, as I sat in my Graphic Design class, I asked a few of my peers if they were aware of the protests in New York that are currently taking place. All of them said no. What the hell?? The only thing that was said was, "Damn hippies." Really people? I have one thing to say to people with this mindset: wake up. 


Surprisingly enough these unaware individuals also had no clue as to why hundreds are occupying the streets of New York. They are protesting the conduct of our own government and its abuse of the economy (that's my own interpretation of why in short). This is key to our society. Protests and public unrest is how we the people can voice our disgusts in a time where those in charge refuse to listen.

The saddest part is that hundreds, even thousands, are out there on the streets (not just in New York) trying to compel the public to demand changes, but their work may yield no positive results because of the millions who sit at home watching that Glee garbage unaware and content with their own little world.

Wake up before your little world collapses and you have no choice but to face reality.

Consumed by Everything

My head is swimming with an infinite number of thoughts each in a different realm of level of importance. Why???  It hurts. I can literally feel every little s-o-b hit the back of my eyeballs whilst bouncing around in there. 

Wearing the PDA (scanner) holster around my waist, scanner at my hip and walking at an obviously important fast pace makes me feel like a bad ass.

After politely asking if a fellow student and I could take pictures of textures in Wal-Mart what I assume was a manager informed us that they've been in legal troubles because of photos of their practices being taken. Wait. What? You're worried I'm going to snap shots of you abusing your employees/product/customers when all I really want is a close up of your taters? High five on confirming why I despise that establishment to be true manager guy. Wal-Mart is evil.

Anyone interested in trading Ramen noodles for maid services? (aka cleaning my room)

Sketchbook

This past Labor Day weekend a couple friends and I made an excursion to Denver, CO. We went shopping, saw some local sights, and went to the Denver Art Museum. Now, when I started my art classes here at Casper, I was told by nearly every instructor "Take your sketchbook everywhere with you. An artist always has their sketchbook with them."

Welp, I was a dunce and I forgot to take it anywhere with me. Yes, I even forgot to take it into the ridiculously vast Denver Art Museum. I'm still frustrated about it. Maybe I'll begin to learn my lesson. Maybe not. We did go trekking through the alleyways of downtown Casper last night and....I didn't have my sketchbook. It doesn't fit in my pocket, though, and I do not carry a purse. I might have to find a smaller sketchbook...

(Mis)interpreted

As of late I have been pushing myself to utilize self control more. Purchasing "needs" only and leaving those "wants" on the shelf, pushing myself to finish assignments and leave the xbox off, eating out less, and getting to bed at a reasonable time are ways that I've been implementing this control of my often irresponsible self. I'm working on this to better myself for myself. It has nothing to do with my outward appearance or what others think of me, it's just to help keep me from going crazy when life gets stressful.

In one particular situation, however, I found myself utilizing this self control in an attempt to avoid emotional conflict (or whatever the hell you wanna call it). This self control was (mis)interpreted as inexperience because my actions were hesitant and calculated. I'm borderline insulted by this to be completely honest. It's disgusting that our own social norms contain negative expectations of how people (men and women alike) should behave in a situation. 

For instance, a woman utilizes self control whilst in the company of a man she doesn't know very well. This man views it as inexperience. He has become programmed to interpret this situation in such a manner due to the "loose" expectations he has for women. (This is a general example, stop making assumptions about my personal life weirdo.) Now, I understand that there is no one to blame for this other than women themselves and in order to avoid a lengthy, possibly never-ending rant, I'm not even gonna go there. This conflict has just been bouncing around in my nogin and in attempt to help it rest, I'm sharing it with all of you.

Shuffle

I, as many other members of the general population, am often plugged into my music via my headphones. More and more I see people of all ages with earbuds or headphones stuck in or on their nogin. Studying, exercising, zoning out, and driving (this is dangerous and illegal folks) are a few things I see members of the public doing whilst their ears are plugged in.

Now when I'm jammin' (cuz that's what I do when my headphones are in) I believe there is no other way to do so than with the playlist on shuffle. I've yelled at friends for disrupting my shuffle with their unknowledgeable, selective-ness.

Last night I put the good ole' 'pod on shuffle and did something a little different for this post. (I also found a brand new reason to love shuffle.)

With clay on my headphones
I listen to Tropicana beats
attempting to cypher
the previous eve's delusions.
Sitting up
scrawling on a notepad;
the beginning lessons of Insomnia 411
are proving to be taxing.
Life is a lot like The Ocean
in the way that it often crashes about, 
jolting calm into confusion.
As Soon As I Wake Up,
be it literally or figuratively,
will I only face greater obstacles?
Frustration is What I Got.
It's noticeable in the scribbles
clawing through something 
simple as My Notes.

To explain a bit, there are six song titles in this little ditty. I am rather proud of this accomplishment. Especially since it encompasses the days that have recently passed quite well. (Mental high five for Tessa.) If you can tell me the artists of ALL the songs hidden in this (it's easy to pick the titles out...they're capitalized) then I'll buy ya a cookie next time I see ya.

Who Knows, Who Cares

Change is inevitable. You can battle it or just go with it. Is life about living, or is it about always changing and adapting? I find myself tripping over a lot of change lately. I say tripping because even though I push to move forward with the change sometimes I fall, scrape up my knees a little before advancing.

Will I be able to keep up? Is this all that life has to offer - perpetual change? Who knows, who cares. I've been lovin' this song as of late because it encompasses this subject quite well if I do say so myself. Local Natives album Gorilla Manner is good for scraped knees.

Untitled

Sleep awaits in some far off land.
He resides in a quaint, 
simple neighborhood.

A gang, Insomnia,
has been causing unrest through the community.

It's best to travel
wrapped tightly in another's arms
when going to visit sleep.

Approaching the door,
you reach forward and knock, knock, knock.
With anticipation you wait for an answer.

None is received.
Pressing your ear against the hardwood door
you listen for footsteps, 
wishing for the sound of sleeps approach.

Feeling odd and out of place
you turn and look behind you.
With this, you realize 
the person whose grasp kept you safe
is gone.

Sleep will not be answering his door this eve.