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Sunday, July 31

sunrise, sunset, sunrise,

do you see the pattern here. (basically i'm dying of exaustion) those with asperger syndrome have trouble seeing patterns for something like all stimulus give similar signals. it's a kind of ultimate non-conformation to society. you try to impress upon me (the person with that autism) that these things are more important than those things but, other than that, those things don't seem more important than these things. (i fear my relations with customers might be quite erratic today) some characteristics that i can identify with: creating, solving and checking math problems to calm myself; problems with people being too close, especially touching; this quote: 'i find it hard to imagine things which did not happen to me;' and this quote: When people asked him, 'Christopher, tell me what your mother was like?' he might say, 'i can rewind to lots of different scenes (in his memory) and say what she was like in those scenes;' (i'm barely pulling off being a cashier even) and a whole paragraph about new places filled with people, being traumatic. yeah, all that stuff. but never so severely, and if severe, usually not for so long an extended period of time. it almost depends on if i'm in an unfamiliar place or anywhere with a lot of people. i don't pretend to really have a problem, it's just nice to see these things listed as traits of some kinds of people somewhere at least. like a support group.

when i'm in a familiar situation, my pattern devisement intricates exponentially. i can see the subtlest patterns within the most basic pattern. and for those times, i can, as my mother says, in a way, let things be what they appear to be.

i have this whole belief that life has to be fair, and if, even though i've seen it isn't, i still hold myself and my own actions in check by that belief. now, i don't know, but it seems probable, that if i looked closely i would see that my most basic wants and desires might not be in check by that belief. but odd, less meaningful things are. it's almost like if you crack your knuckles on one hand, you'll always crack the other hand, too. this is a kind of compulsion. but what i'm talking about is more of a basic life view. something like, if i was outgoing for five years, the next five i would become become introverted. not quite that either though. but still, i feel like i go to extremes. it's like, instead of staying balanced, say in excercise, i push it so hard for a short period of time, but then sit completely still (basically) for the rest of the day. or i think very hard and then go around thoughtless the rest of the day. or once i finally think that i've discovered some certain trait or characteristic about my personality, i'll usually decide to tell someone, 'i'm this way,' and once i do i usually find myself, from then on, acting not that way at all.

it all has to do with how you can never really be sure of anything, and so, once i think i'm sure of something, and then state it out loud, i get quesy or something and so follow along the opposing principles. sometimes though i worry that the job of a human is to create, define, stand by and defend what is true.

but, i do believe in justice. the only problem with ever applying it though is that whole thing about doing to others that which you would want done to yourself and how that doesn't really make any sense once you get past the big things like 'don't kill me' 'don't kill you' i mean, i want you to act how i act but you want me to adjust to the way you act. i want to act how i act because i am familiar with how i act. when i act the way you want me to act, it's like i freeze, like i do in unfamiliar places, and i no longer can employ the many intricate ways of acting that i learned acting on my playing board, because in your world the things i do and say have different meaning and i just spend the entire time explaining and apologizing for myself and for how i imagine you may have taken me. (can i make it through this day?)

i understand why people don't like certain people. it's because of the feeling you get from that person. their personality causes that feeling. or, you imagine that they hold misgivings about you even if their personality never converys that. most people don't make much of an impression on me. but the people that strike me as "wow, you are for sure unpopular, i can just tell that most people wouldn't respond well to you because of your looks or ways of communicating," are the people that i often act friendly towards out of pity or something. or more because i know that my kindness will get the most for its money and time. it's like i'm making up for how rude or indifferent i am to people that don't seem to need any more friends. but this doesn't seem fair from their perspective because they have worked hard to get to the point where people will respond well to them. not that they're intelligent or anything, but they cared, and they wanted people to like them. i think i like to go for people who don't need anyone to like them. or, as i've said, perhaps i think i do the complete opposite. it beats me.

no one read this.

(gasp, my last breath - mysterique, stephan g. t.)

*oh, go here for all the quotes and ideas. julie has the book. i read a page or two.

Thursday, July 28

al;sdkjl;dfjoaijsdfl....

shit, i am so stubborn when it comes to doing what i want to do with a certain amount of time. for example, after work. i just want to go home and forget about work, about dealing with and talking to and appeasing people. i want to play basketball or chess with anthony and laugh together about what rude motherfuckers we are. i don't want to tip-toe around things or work up some fake excitement about my new car or some other shit.

thing is, my cousin and aunt and uncle are in from the beach/state college, reverse-respectedly and they want (image a sweet valley high girl saying:) to get together and go to Friendlies!!!!! oh come on! just have some ice cream then!!

i just fucking smashed my shin. it's too hard to explain how, but it hurts. like, i smashed it while sitting in my chair typing.

anyway, i don't want to deal with it all right now and i could see myself going there and responding less than enthusiastically to questions thus virtually pooping on the party and making everyone feel a little upset at me unconsciously, perhaps, after i'd say i was tired from work and didn't really feel like talking. they'd probably try to make me laugh by saying how hard my aunt must make me work but i wouldn't.

you might say, big deal, just do what you want. who cares what they think, just say you want to go home.

butttttt, i want to be able to go there and have fun. i want to want to go hang out with family or anybody and enjoy myself. i want to be able to make the party more enjoyable. so i'm going to go because it's the first step in being able to get back to being able to do that. but i'm so damn stubborn that i still think i'm going to show up and be less than enthusiastic. sigh. we'll see.

Tuesday, July 26

at least i power blogger

spells have been cast. waking life meets cowboy bebop meets i go to work in the morning. house on the marme.

and don't get me started on haunting drives through 20 row. but anyway, as there are stages in sleeping there are stages of being awake, and like sands through an hour glass, finish the rest in your head. if you're familiar. (stefano)

and if you're not, furrow your eyebrows, and fake a smile.

sorry about all this.

Sunday, July 24

eww, i had a good feeling today

the pine trees just above and to the left of me were sticking into the sky so sharply. had the wind blown, i thought the tops of the craggy trees would have scratched the pale blue milkshake sky. there was thick contrast both visually and sensually (albeit imagined). the trees were a dark green thorn as they sped by out my driver's side window. fall is coming. i can't wait.

Saturday, July 23

why can't i hear out of my mouth

hahaha. i'm very happy. i didn't even realize it until after i wrote the title. i think i just took the first step towards dominating my depression. that feeling which was the prototypical anxiety factor has been located and i've learned how to destroy it.

it's like trying to get as close as you can to moving your arm without moving it. you send your arm all kinds of signals except the one that, before you know you've sent it, moves your arm. thinking about moving your arm can fill it with feeling, but moving your arm is all about some other kind of thing. making your body move isn't a thought but a will.

anyway, i've had the busiest and best day i've probably had at the store today. a saturday in which my co-worker cancelled on me. i've been on top of almost everything without taking a second of a mental break, or ever running out of will power and energy. a little while ago, i went back to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. typically, i can freak myself out in front of a mirror. usually, i look and don't get any impression and so i look closer and closer and then whatever level of anxiety or depression i'm open to will close in. the level used to be so much that i could be effected for quite a while. but in the last months i could ignore it almost as soon as it began. i even slightly toyed with it.

but today, i realized what the feeling was and where it was located and why it was there and i took a step to alleviate it. see! it was just a common feeling in my body and all i had to do was release the pressure on it by allowing that pressure to accumulate on my other muscles. these other muscles, however, had become so week during my years at pitt that it's taken a few years of furniture sales to get them ready again. soon i will even out. soon, i will be what i should be.

and i'll see an impression of myself in the mirror that i can be happy about.

Thursday, July 21

mind on my diamonds, Diamond's on my mind

laid back...

previously on Guns, Germs and Steel,

Jared Diamond had me going on the idea that getting a head start on the domestication of local plants and animals was, for early man, the greatest stepping stone towards acquiring the firepower (used loosely, except when referring to guns) to dominate his fellow man. Was it because men of whiter skin (used fairly loosely. i'm not referring to albinos here people *a few chuckles from out of a huge audience* *the professor continues uneffected*) were so much smarter or more blessed by god that they were first to domesticate?

We heard recently that, no, it was just chance that local domesticables (although i've used it profusely, recently, i wouldn't think it's a word) were where they were. At least that's where I left off, about a month ago. Now (to me) it seems that there were many places that had prime resources but didn't swerve from a hunter-gatherer lifestyle until just recently being swept upon by modern society. So, why didn't they farm and herd?

The next chapter is 'To Farm or Not to Farm'

We can all see where this is going. Hang on to your seats, or loved ones if you're so inclined and so chivalrous, this might get exciting.

spiders are so sensitive.

title of champions

alright all you headstealers out there. three things. my neck is doing much better its job of keeping me grounded.

three things just seems like too many. something's up though. and something right, too. if dreams aren't coming true, intentions are at least. and they're coming off real well. they come off before any second guessing, you know.

but see, i can't even do it anymore. it's like being covered in mud. when you've been in mud all day it doesn't seem so bad to stick your head back in it and roll around getting a new thick covering. sometimes that feels better than the old mud crusting up in your joints. but once you've showered...

i don't feel like getting in the mud again. especially because i don't feel assured that i will be able to clean myself off again at my whim. i might forget where the shower is. i might never make it.

oh, but the differences. amazing; and i feel grounded. (this all in contradiction with the above) i still may only be hanging from the cliff with one hand, but it's superman's hand, and at any moment i could let go and then speed off towards the stars, or maybe i'm only holding on with one hand, and i'm not a superhero, but my hand is being held by lance armstrong or someone equally reliable but with less of a pun of a name.

anyway, i have to close up the store and accelerate around in my new car.

bye-o!

Tuesday, July 19


the business opens (yeah, it's so easy to post pictures once you open hello that it's hard to stop.)

what fools

for some reason they have a problem calling me sir chad. they're never too young for corrective discipline

moneymaker never showed (pfft, pussy)

there are plates to be had.

a fortunate shot of me - bearing christmas poses '03 style

bonus shot of the wolfman peering into the glassy lake of self-reflection, sans hair

the day winter fell

quit complaining. another picture won't kill you.

deemed not nice enought to post six months ago. now, redeemed! or something

There. *wipes brow with back of hand* (Thinks to self, 'That photo sufficiently rivals those airing recently over at yummy')

the adventures of captain camera and the furniture lair. (as pictured above. -no grandmas' houses were present during the shoot)

Saturday, July 16

i'm a brewmaster, if you didn't

did you know that 75% of south african breweries miller's profits leave the U.S.? guess what fraction of anheiser busch's profits stay in america; you guessed it, the whole number. these are just a few of the facts posted above the urinals at the theme park.

i so totally love to call miller, south african breweries miller. haha.

but it's just begun raining outside, and here's me with my new, white italian leather shoes and all, and i didn't buy the water protectant. i'll have to take them off and wrap them in a bag, running to my car barefoot.

it looks like i'm in the market now for a new vehicle (in a used sense), and get this, in the 11 - 14 k range. or is it g's. or both, i think. anyway, at least i'll get to listen to cds again, more often.

talk to you

drink caffeine

things about dreaming, being forced to stop dreaming, then dreams coming true. dreams decided unrealistic not because of inability but because of upsetting of balance. it was a full post until my mood changed.

there's so much more eye contact in my dreams lately. it's usually sad, tragic stuff though. best friends stealing your girlfriend or arguments with your dad. but, hey, it's better than nothing.

updadidadadadadate

goodness, where to start.

just kidding (about the tone of this whole thing)

busch gardens for the second time in twenty some days. this time steve and i danced with the german girls from octoberfest. i danced with the hot one, says steve. he was very jealous. i didn't care much. i was more concerned about not kicking my calves around like my mom says my dad did when he danced.

we befriended an irishman of a similar age there last time. he said, 'what's up lads, i thought i recognized you.' he said a bit more.

other things happened. mostly hotels and restaurants. i've really grown to like mexican food. chalupas or bean tostadas and chile rellenos are delicious. all of it is.

i watched my brother in law play tonight. spoonchatter. that's their name. oh, they're a band if you didn't. i know they have a website.

virginia woolf said some more to me as well. still very interesting.

there's been new bands introduced to me. death cab and postal service. bright eyes, which might or might not be the band's name. isreal the hawaiian has a new cd out with me. hmm, there seems like more.

if you are planning to reach for the stars, you better close your eyes. at least for me.

Monday, July 11

fear of the power of love

i dreamt i was holding this baby girl. i held her so lightly against me and it was peaceful. but then, it started to feel like i was slowly squeezing her and compressing her. it felt like i was suffocating her. i panicked and tried very hard to release my clench, but i couldn't. in actuality i hadn't been holding her any tighter. but the light touch was so overwhelming that had i really been experiencing it, my heart would have started beating rapidly.

it was like how scalding hot water can feel freezing cold sometimes at first.

this post is this post, check the date if you are in disbelief

i can't think of anything to write* so if you haven't, read this

*not true

Friday, July 8

something to talk about

virginia woolfe has again encaptured my head like a hand closing around a helpless gnat. i've been snatched up into her lucid voice, and she's whispering to me through the words i hear in my head as i turn the pages, about what it means to be an artist and what it takes to be one as well. a room of one's own, for one, which incidentally is the title of the essay/speech/book. there must be freedom in the most physical sense. there must be allowed time and peace and quiet. there must be allowed the freedom of exploration. and most importantly, there must be the freedom from society and its views. too many writers (specifically) were known too well for who they were, what they stood for. too many interjected themselves into their creation, interjected their own feelings of rejection, injustice, intolerance. the creation must transcend the individual creator. the creation must be given its own freedom from the writer.


maybe it seemed like the easiest thing. maybe it didn't seem like the easiest thing should be the thing to do. i can't imagine why. but at one point, the writer gets away from what seems most important and instead focuses all energy on attacking out on every kind of perceived transgression and impediment from outside, no matter how minor. but the writer can, as a writer can, turn the slightest irritation into the most extravagant imposition. 'LET ME BE!!' the grizzlied haired writer would scream in grievious frustration at a rustling wind or a tick of a clock. 'Oh woe is me who now cannot finish up my creation, and all because of those dastardly distractions.' an anger burns and a pencil snaps and the mind now drives with a new focus.


as time wets the grass outside and dries the ink on the paper the creation waits in mid-stride with the patience of stone as the writer erodes, demanding the recognition and equality of those who have chosen the more common contributions to society. the creator, perhaps, should learn a lesson from the creation.


a lifetime of alcohol and depression comsume the writer over the next many years and the writer deploys every expression to describe all the ultimate questions. 'me' becomes 'why me.' 'this' becomes 'why this.' and 'yes!' becomes 'why yes?'


obeying the laws of life, the writer has made a mistake. but to the writer, as to a writer it would seem, life is over, and it has ended in failure. all the better for the writer, for life is not over, and now, to the writer, life has again begun, and how glorious. dust may now be blown off the half-conceived creation, and all that needs to be done will be done.

Wednesday, July 6

*punches friend in the shoulder* 'how much you wanta bet i can throw this football over those mountains. *stares off into the sky*

i made a friend today. he's real cool, and he made me laugh. then, he laughed. my friend's name is alex. he said that he has many friends. i hope that everyone else i meet is like alex. my friend, alex, has black hair. he told me that he has travelled to many planets before. one time, alex fell out of a rocket ship, but, he didn't die. he was saved by eagles.

Alcohol is Insidious

hmm, i'm going to ramble. first, i have not been drinking. a good friend of mine has. he's been doing so for a good six or seven years now. only within the last two or so has the nightly binge drinking seemed to have taken its toll on his daily personality. i really hope he stops. at least he's still with it enough to have given me the title of this post. he couldn't have been more exact when describing alcohol as insidious.

then, i have a new friend. we seem to have formed together because of our avoidance of alcohol. it's mostly his doing; he has most of the energy. but i'm willing to learn. the way he acts reminds me of how i used to be and i'm seeing major benefits as well as seeing parts of him in me now.

but now about neither here nor there. first, let me fidget around a moment whilst thinking something up to ramble about. isn't it some kind of irony. oh, well, now it isn't, i'm doing it. therefore change gears and read on. or don't, as most would have it. but anyway, i just got through working nine straight days and am due for a vacation. not just due, i have been granted one, date pending. i could go to oregon, see what the fuss is about. hm, and i wasn't even thinking about nathan, isn't he ending up there at some point? others have gone there recently, and as for myself, my aunt was recently told by my young cousin that i was going there with some friends to live. so, unless i can avoid that fate...

yes, one T-Smooth, another Web/Webb, and a Josh Illig - uh, Schmillig, are there and more could follow. steve's always wanted to ditch his high-school history teaching job for the call of the truck driver, somewhere out west. we might start our own 'little ebensburg.' i could handle something like that. but not as a truck driver; there'd be too much i'd have to shift around. yep.

*publishes post*

Tuesday, July 5

you killed younglings

i'm glad most careless racism seems to have conglomerated around the more elderly population. it makes me uncomfortable. i try to ignore it. apparently i don't have the eyes of an italian. my dad, for a period of three weeks, was mistaken for an egyptian by a syrian. an old guy told me light-heartedly that it's because of all those damn indians entering the community that everyone's an indian now if they have any middle-eastern features. but there isn't much lackadaisical racism in the younger generation. mostly it's direct and intense or just worked in logically. it's not just an accepted fact like it was 50 years ago. now, you'll have to be prepared to fight to keep your racist views. you don't just throw them out in the middle of a polite, informal conversation. say something racist now and expect the tone of the conversation to change.

Saturday, July 2

aaaand titled

Steven G. T. figured out how to get his blue screen to work. imagine. we did, and then we went to walmart because we figured that walmart would have a blue screen. well, what we really needed was something large and bright green. i finally got to shop in the west end slums of the roofed city of walmart behind the auto shop and the rifle dealership. i found out that they sell crafts and fabrics and probably all kinds of different costumes back there, although i didn't really see any. we encountered a really funny lady, not in the sense that she was trying to be humorous but in the sense that she was a measuring pro when it came to lengths in yards but when you made her convert things to feet she'd always come up with measurements like 7 feet 12 inches. this all after i rudely and repeatedly kept telling her 'it's eight feet,' and she continued scribbling it all down elementary school math-style. when she pronounced her final sum steve and i barely didn't laugh. (at her face)

oh, but she was sweet. just, i'd laugh at anybody that said something like that. like, 'i'll be home in ten minutes and sixty seconds, charlie.' also, i am very adept at confusing everybody i talk to, especially when i'm figuring things out.

we bought all this green fabric and puddied it up on steve's kitchen wall. we now have a blue screen. we can input internet pictures or even live video steve films. now we just need a writer. you should have seen our last dvd... (adventures of captain wonderful and prometheus)

Friday, July 1

thank you very much

i hate updating my blog when i'm bored. but i am so bored which means there is absolutely nothing to do or there is absolutely nothing i feel like doing. these are times when i wish my blog wasn't public. but actually that doesn't make any sense because what, i would decide to just write this down on a piece of paper? but anyway, i always end up wondering what the point of having a blog is anyway. it is something to do at work, and i appreciate that. it is a place i can put down things that i would like to get out of my head and it forces me to think about those things if i want to put them in writing. all important things in a way. but the most important thing (nathan and olivia might attest to this) is making or continuing relationships. i am not out to make a popular website. i do not wish for many people to drop by with simple comments. i only want to attract people that are willing to take time and think about things for a while, in turn forcing me to think as well.

take this for example. steve and i try to come up with an idea for a movie or a skit or whathaveyou. but really we couldn't do it. we just turned the camera on and then our minds were forced into a creative state. something came out of it. same with just thinking things or saying them to people. this page is a means of improvement in clarity and priority.

i think shawn mentioned he does this as well, but i find it best to think in statements. it's frustrating because i'm pretty sure that if you speak in statements all the time then you speak falsely all the time. or something like that that would make you think of how only 'the dark side thinks in absolutes.' but it's an ambitious way of thinking. and plus, my best motivation is to fix something i've messed up. if i say something stupid, the next thing that comes out of my mouth usually turns out to be my best work. i like to think i have a knack for recovery. this all can be linked to my depressive stages. for some reason i got in the habit of taking extreme care to not ever mess up. therefore, i never surprised myself with a energy-filling and satisfying recovery, in any form of life.

for explanation on the last phrase 'in any form of life.'

that phrase just came out. i knew there was something there i might want to better detail but i couldn't think of it at the time. by writing it it could force me to decide what i meant by it. many times though i would have just left it to the confusion or indifference of the reader. but this time i wish to analyze where it came from or what it means that i wrote it, or was there any reason to write it, or did i just write it because it sounded like something like that should go there but then i looked at what (the phrase) just came randomly out of my mind and then tried to personalize it?

so am i just making up sentences and then after looking at them utilizing sentences to make the made up ones make sense? i guess it's kind of like brainstorming.

this is all different of course if you have an objective in mind. when you don't have one in mind though, what are you going for?

oh yeah, alleviation of boredom.
 
NOTE: z
No smoking around chadswope. Thankyou for your co-operation.

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