for the sake of argument or rather arguing for the sake of passion for the sake of creativity and perhaps truth

i didn't do it, yet i've been accused, and so i feel an energy and a passion as strongly as i can feel anything because i'll need my every resource and every inch of focus in order to defend myself. i'm at my best because everything is on the line.

but then there come less threatening instances in life that require less urgency. still, i'd like to do my best. it can be difficult, however, to do my best without the motivation of being falsely accused.

this is why i find arguing to be an important segway - a key to the door to our passion. it's like watching Bloodsport to stir up the courage and creativity to have a friendly fight with your brother.

now, the less threatening instances i'm talking about in particular right now are questions without answers. i find it hard to progress with any new ideas about these questions if i am not utilizing firstly the energy created by interacting with another human being and secondly that energy created when arguing with another human being. just 'discussing' ideas about god, human nature, ideologies, etc, doesn't hold my interest because they don't inspire an energy in me just of themselves. i need to argue that my view on them is the correct view. and so i need to act as if there really is an anwer, and i'm the one that knows it. this, even though i would certainly never contend that i believed i was right if you caught me once my energies were back down. i will listen to reason only once my passion subsides, heh. but in the process of all of this i almost always create for myself new questions to observe or even narrow in more on what questions i'm really asking. and this is fun and exciting to me.

it's funny that it is logical to me to get worked up to argue a point i don't fully believe in because my end goal (even if it doesn't seem like it to my opponent) isn't to win but to promote rational thought and new ideas which are best formed when i'm as if walking a tightrope in concentration.

however, as the primary element of argument when you are falsely accused is to win, i notice that sometimes without conscious intentions, i allow myself to use irrational ways to win these non-threatening arguments. this usually happens probably when my opponent points out some basic flaw in my stance. at this point i usually can't simply turn off my passion now that it's flared and so i naturally/habitually dig deeper and go for the win without having logic on my side. this is not fair to my counterpart and i imagine if i could look back is what usually ends all conversation (argument) for the night.

but all of this isn't really true, just so you know. most of this really isn't true about me at all. as i've found that giving a point my best effort by arguing that it is a fact, i also look to find out about myself by arguing or stating that this or that is fully true about me. i write it down here, look at it, and realize that no, it isn't fully correct, but it was interesting to find that out. i mean, really, the only things that we know for sure are true are those things that we know for sure aren't. or isn't that right?

hmm, as i publish this it has become my birthday. that's 25 now. luckily, i feel i can say so far, so good. (but really, if 'so' means the same thing in my mind in 'so far' as it does in 'so good' then i don't really know what that phrase means. of course it means 'things are good so far' but did the phrase come about because it sounds kind of hip or poetic or is it from a dead breed of english terminology/phrasification, what) *treats fingers as if they were six-shooters being alternatively aimed up and down at the audience as the curtain closes* kind of exactly like when adam beat that albino kid in the mile run

refer to blogtitle or (note comments)

oh man, i just realized i'm in a really funny mood. mood's are so interesting. are they really so fragile or do i just think so. i don't ever want to take a second to compose myself when i'm in a good mood for fear that too many cooks will spoil the stew, or something not like that at all. but you already knew what i meant before i sentenced it. hmm, so i wondered why i write so many useless sentences, but then i realized that you need some sentences that do nothing but give you an idea for the next sentence while you write it. or give you time is all maybe to mindlessly chatter about on your keyboard so that your mind can dazzle up something fresh/exciting/self-praising or otherwise you end up with shit like this, that makes everyone who links to you cringe.

all right, nevermind, here comes the day

things throughout this day

man. a day at work can cure just about everything.

living at home can be hilarious and terribly frustrating. today, prodded by my mother, my father told me that he was hurt and disappointed that i didn't get the dusting done by the time he got home.

i'm dreading church tonight. that seems so wrong.

it's like a false spring outside. i can't tell if i haven't felt this way in weeks or if it's been years. it's a good feeling though - sunny, wet, snowy

i notice that the last 4 things i've written have been saved as drafts instead of published. until those 4 i have maybe only 2. hmm. just curious.

a day at work can cure most sunken feelings

this is a post kids

it's funny, i'm a little bit dazed today and i've had to catch myself from saying 'you're welcome' when people don't actually say 'thank you'. it's just so natural to end conversations here with 'all right, you're welcome'.

here's one for my friends from old school. elementary, in fact. shawn and steve, namely. there's a maniac, the more i think about it, that used to be our elementary school gym teacher. did anyone else ever have to do this kind of stuff for gym class when you were 9 or 10? we had this giant apparatus that must've been donated to us from the marine core that had ropes, verticle ladders and horizontal ladders that probably topped out at 20 or more feet high. at say, fifteen feet, there was placed the horizontal ladder, which gave my wide eyed heart its first taste of terror. it was expected of us to climb up to it and then walk or run along the top of these monkey bars. if you were too much of an 8 year old pussy to walk on the bars, you could, for half of the presidential credit, edge along the inch-wide wooden beam with a hand or two stretching out for the wall a few feet away (that's a few meters away, for my metric readers). it was a long, humiliating walk for those of us who slide-stepped the entire way, ass in the air from leaning both hands against the wall. yeah, there was a high-jump-kind-of-mat below, waiting to cushion you after you cracked open your head falling and twisting your way down through the bars.
the other gym class threat that was a part of that menacing apparatus was the high ladder. stretching maybe 20 feet above our heads, the young child was expected to ascend it's thick wooden bars to the top and then proceed to shimmy his way over the highest rung and climb back down. (i'm remembering how fun it was to jump to the mat from dangerously higher bars.)
so now that i write about it, i realize that that was an amazing thing that we all did, when we were too young to let our fears overcome our fear of standing up to authority. or was it the embarrassment of quiting in front of all our peers.
anway, we also had to run a mile and practice to run a mile, and stretch beyond our limits with the teacher pressing wrecklessly* into our backs, and get in lines and take turns trying to do handsprings and front-flips (which, when before i knew whether i could do one or not, i went charging forward, expecting to do one, before just doing a bellysmack face-first onto the mat). also we had to do what was called six inches, where we'd all lie down on our backs and lift our feet six inches from the floor and hold them there until he felt our crys and moans of effort were enough to satisfy his torture bug. it was the best fucking gym class in the world, though. probably because i was forced to conquer fear and trepidation.

haha, compare to our middle school days where the gym teacher would read the paper far and high away from us while some asshole in the class would play dodgeball with some skinny nerdy glasses kid but with a hard, real, football, and in between plays.

*doesn't it seem like the word should be wreckfully instead of wrecklessly? have i said or heard that question before?

i guess it's true

on page 393 of a million little pieces you will find the words, 'There is no awkwardness and no anxiety. Miles is in his World and i am in mine. We just sit.' yeah, i know, i've been harping on this for the last few years now. i think it's just because i couldn't believe that what i experienced was true. but yeah, it definitely is, for whatever reason. i mean we all know how hard it is to define an emotion. a feeling. what is happiness, right. by the time we understand how to ask that question, we've already experienced happiness. we don't know what happiness isn't. but, what is being drunk. what is being stoned like. what is anxiety? for some fucked up reason, possibly to do with kinds of areas in the brain that are activated, i can't seem to believe that novel feelings that i've had recently, like anxiety, are possibly similar to what other people call anxiety, etc. however, i've never questioned whether happiness is a feeling that is shared among humans. more, it's like, 'this is a new feeling,' how in the hell do i know what it is, or should be called, labelled as. it took a few years, but it turns out that i know what it is now. by reading into other peoples' ways of explaining it, yeah, i guess that's how i feel, too. i finally believe it. also, i think a good reason for me not wanting to accept that this is what the feeling, the event, is, is that it would mean admitting my failure. or rather, my ability to handle failure. or ratherer, my inability. (BAM!) just like whatever you talk about, i can tell if i'll like you by how you talk about it, i can tell things about me no matter what i do. i see how i get into a downward spiral mentally by looking at my faults in how i weightlift for example. instead of going the healthy route of falling down and then getting back up again, i'm more, brace against the pressure and slowly, slowly get crushed under it. there's never any time for relief. there's no breathing room. but anyway, the way i'm approaching everything is changing now. (and there's always the question of the chicken and the egg)

so, it's all coming back to me. and its coming back is the proof that it left. why? i have theories. obviously. but they're always in progress.


NEW POST

i was watching msnbc where there was some guy with a pink bow-tie?? people might know him. and he was interviewing the (i believe) former canadian prime minister? and they discussed, seriously, for the first time i've ever heard of, as if we should start to consider, and made me a little freaked out, that there is good evidence for aliens and that there's a good chance that bush is preparing for intergalactic warfare (hahaha). i kept waiting for the bow-tie guy to show some kind of smirk so i'd know that he felt that he was discussing a rediculous issue, but, nope. they talked about it seriously. what up with this? anyone hear of it? are we building a frontal base on the moon to protect us from these aliens 'buzzing' around our planet?

anyway. it struck me as odd, me, driving down the boulevard in altoona, that Wendy's large, stick-out there, sign, said 'Happy Birthday Jesus'

the more i thought about it the less it bothered me, but it struck me as odd.

oh, umm, nevermind

i'm dying of boredom

and..we're off

reading jared diamond appeals to your common sense. reading oscar wilde appeals to your creativity. common sense is one of the greatest truths in the world. to be creative one must stretch the truth, their common sense. wilde or someone said something like, art's only purpose is to be admired. i remember that canadian, the father from 'honey/shrunk/kids' was playing the role of an english teacher in a different movie. he tells his young class on his first day to 'lie to me. tell me a story.'

i'm tired of creativity (i think). fiction is getting harder and to read. even, lately i've been finding introductions written about the author or his work in my hands more interesting. so i always end up picking up jared diamond.

eh. i'm thinking about buying a business for dummies book or something. i guess it's time to change things