In too deep now to ever swim against the current...

So this is it. I just pushed several keys on my keyboard and formed this sentence. Moments after the thought went through my mind, it gradually exposed itself on my screen. You see, the last time I spewed my stream of consciousness onto the world was in September of 2008 on this very blog. Or maybe it is on a different blog. I hate the word blog and I still haven’t quite figured out where I will be posting this. Regardless, minutes ago I tried reading through that last post. I got a good paragraph and a quarter in, and then I closed it. It was written by a 19 year old me, who had already figured out the world. And in that moment, I really had. I was enjoying life and making progress, so who can say that I wasn’t doing it right. Unfortunately the world has a bittersweet tendency to change.

I guess this is the future. Twenty-twelve, the year I could hardly put together in my mind’s eye just four years ago is here. There’s nothing particularly special about this year, but when the world is zooming by every second is the future, and every second counts. Biographers can articulate a person’s life in 600 pages, using a typeface no larger than this one here. It is an incredible feat when you consider taking just a single four year slice of your existence on earth and imagine the differences between these two points in time. The shear amount of things that has changed couldn’t possibly be chronicled in even the most expansive collection of volumes.
               Writing, in general, has always intrigued me simply for the vastly different dynamic it provides from other means of communication. As I sit here and type this, I am constantly going back and correcting my words. Fine tuning them, into the perfect combination of these 26 letters, and even going so far as to alter punctuation to encourage replication the specific tonality that I have in my head. This privilege, of having the time to go back and correct every aspect of your message, is not always afforded to us when speaking. Being able to hone in on what makes your sentence sound exactly the way you want it to can open a world of possibilities. In fact, although some of you already know me as this person, many others’ perceptions of me might be changing as they read these lines. Granted, it’s probably not for the better (I get it, I'd probably laugh at me too), but the point is that it works. It works, and I enjoy using it to my advantage in life, in business, and for entertainment (mine or yours).

Why don’t I write more? It’s mostly because I tend to harbor the “try everything once” mentality, and once I’ve completed a task there seems to be little reason to revisit. But what does that have to do with why I don’t write more? Because I’ve previously stuck mostly to blogging, (both here and on a few others, which are likely not known by anyone reading) and blogging means individual posts which are a job done and completed once they are over. Still, it seems like some of you actually liked those posts from back in the day. I wrote about Brighton, procrastination, touring around the country for work, and all the other awesome things that had entered my life back then. There’s a sense of closure at the end of each post (except for that Brighton one, which never did get its long-promised part 2) and, since there is nothing to “finish”, there’s little pressure to write more. The next step seems clear: a book. But even in my twisted, but pleasant, egotistical universe there isn’t even the slightest part of me which thinks that I have had enough exposure to the world, or tucked away enough experiences in my Facebook albums, to ever write a book about my life’s observations that would be worth reading. That doesn’t mean I can’t start. Seems logical enough that I will eventually lose the experiences I do have, much like I’ve already lost countless others, to the passage of time. Likewise, it seems plenty logical to start writing them down now, in the hopes that I will one day have enough to share with the world in a rich smelling, leather-bound, mahogany perfumed (for class) set of processed trees. I’m already practicing my autograph.

What Happened?

Look up. Up there under my giant Prada sunglassed face. See what it says? It says that this blog is updated when I feel like it. Well I feel like it now. I’ve felt like it before, but somehow the last time I got around to doing it was April 5^th 2008 and even that was just a lame ploy to attract visitors. It worked. Kind of. But then I gave up. I’ve said it many times before: I’m not the type to be consistent with things like this. I refuse to spend time looking for actual content and so if I don’t have anything to write about, I just don’t write. Here’s the thing: when life is exciting and I do have things to write about, I don’t have the time to write about them. Point is, don’t expect anything from me. Don’t expect me to write anything interesting, and most importantly, don’t even begin to expect me to be consistent.

If you’re sitting and giggling about how lame it is that I’m apologizing, you are very well justified. I am well aware that there is no more than one person reading this at any given moment in time, or in any given month for that matter. I write like this so that when I can look back on my life’s accomplishments I can fool myself into thinking that I had actual followers. Don’t smirk. You know you do it too. We all do it.  We are all guilty of distorting the past.  You drive by your elementary school and picture yourself walking out. You smile at the pleasant memory of a simpler time. What you don’t remember is how much you cried going in. You don’t remember how stressed out you were that you failed your spelling test and your parents were going to yell at you. You don’t remember these things because it serves no purpose to remember them. Warm pleasant events always get in the way of reality. We all have a pink filter in our brains which blocks out the things we don’t need to remember and pushed forward the things we do. This isn’t just true for childhood. Talk to anyone about the 90s. Most people will tell you it was an amazing time and they miss the decade. Really? Do you? Was it not just like any other time? Were there not genocides, terrorist attacks, a missile crisis? Was your family not just a bunch of dirt poor immigrants struggling to make their way in a backwards country where the only streets that are paved with gold are the ones lining the sidewalks of the very people that were exploiting you? Here’s the thing: nobody needs to hear that. Nobody wants to reminisce about how they shared a bathroom with 6 people or how they spent their first month in America living on their uncle’s couch. Nobody wants to hear these things unless they just a quick introduction to a story that ends with success and caviar. My point is this: stop looking for a point. Live your damn life, take in as much of it as you can, and do what you feel is right. In the end, when you’re sitting on a couch feeling the warm tea slip between your false teeth, you will always pick out the pleasantries of life and all the drama you have in your life right now will have magically seeped away.  You know this is true. You’ve even thought about this very fact yourself at one point in time. Sometimes there just needs to be someone to remind you. Of course I’ve chosen this role upon myself.

Wait, this isn't what the blog was supposed to be about. What the fuck just happened? So much for being entertaining.

Come to think of it, I have no idea what I was going to write about when I started today but, at this point, any words I get down are better then what I’ve been doing the past six months.

So now, after a long hiatus, I am back and once again ready to break the rules of grammar, invent words, offend people, and most importantly, entertain Esther.

Yes, I’m not naive. I am well aware you are the only one that reads this Estya. Enjoy.

Fuck it. Fuck it all. Just live your life. The alternative isn't all that more exciting.

Sweet dreams kids.

PS. Don't you dare comment on the image instead of the blog itself. =]

A new year means new bills and a new date to put on checks...

I just received the 19th txt message of the day wishing me happy new year. Sure, its sweet, until you realize it was a mass txt which is almost as touching as the penis enlargement pill emails in my spam box. Why is this even a trend? What compels you to congratulate everyone on the fact that they were able to successfully count off another 365 days and file them away as memories? Don't get me wrong, I enjoy celebrating things, I'm not trying to be negative, and I suppose successfully hurling through the solar system without smashing into the sun another year is indeed something worth celebrating, but why spam about it? What about the people that pay for individual txt messages? Why must they pay for your novel stupidity and the fact that you realized your Razr has the ability to send a txt message to more then one person at a time? Whats worse is that you taught your mother to send txts and I now received one from her this morning as well. I've sent and received random txts int he past too, and they were nice and sweet, but this New Years txting thing is just pointless. Just stop. Your txt messages are NOT inspirational, they are NOT cute, they are NOT touching, they are NOT original, and most impotently they are NOT worth neither the 10 cents it cost me to receive them or the 10 seconds it takes me to read them.

JUST STOP!

Sweet dreams kids.

PS. New York, your not helping with this.

This is whats wrong with the world...

I used to watch the morning news on Channel 11 all through high school when I would actually be awake that early. If you live in New York you may have seen, and possibly drooled over, the traffic girl Jill Nicolini. Even wearing the headset in the helicopter she always looked good. But that's not what we watch the news for right? We watch it because they tell us what we needed to know, like whether or not to take an umbrella, how long we'll be in traffic, and who our tax dollars are being used to bomb today. Well its been a few years since I've woken up early enough, and had the time to, catch the morning news and apparently that is not the only thing that's changed in the world. We've all watched morning shows, and I've appeared live on a few of them around the country for work, so I know they are not the most formal of news programs but these days not only does godawful music penetrate the speakers everywhere you turn, but today I'm looking through Digg like I always do and I find this gem of a video (keep watching, what you need to see is about halfway in):





So after watching the video I check the comments on Digg, like you do, and after siffting through comments from old perverts living with thier mothers having nothing good to say, I found comments from old perverst living with thier mothers who have links to Jill Nicolini's playboy pictures from before she became a new anchor. I won't post a direct link here, but if you want to google it, she did them under the name Jill Nikki.

What I'm trying to say is: even if our president doesn't inadvertently nuke us off the face of the Earth, we're still all going to hell. So in the words of my hero Tucker Max: "I hope they serve beer in hell."

Sweet dreams kids.

Update

FINALS ARE OVER!

I'll take the rest of this week off because I have work in Tribeca Saturday and in Long Island Sunday, but I promise I'll be back on Monday with bigger and better things. Expect more rants. A big picture post. And all that fun stuff throughout the next week.

Sweet dreams kids.

Snow may glow, but blow makes things flow.

The weather in NYC isn't very appealing and its that time of year again. The time when my theory on procrastination is comes to a screeching halt. Finals.

Here is my schedule of finals:
Mon. Dec. 17 -
10:00AM - English Lit.
3:30PM - Sociology
Wed. Dec. 19 -
3:30PM - Computer Information Systems
Thu. Dec 20 -
10:30AM - Microeconomics

Normally this wouldn't be bad at all, but this year, as an added bonus, I have to work 4 shows on Saturday and Sunday. English Lit. and Sociology are, without a doubt, my two hardest finals this semester and I won't even have the weekend to study for them. Add to that the fact that I already blew through my first day off (today) doing absolutely nothing, and intend on spending most of tomorrow finding somewhere to go to escape my housekeeper who likes to play 20 questions every time she comes over. Clearly Sunday night is shaping up to be an all-nighter. But what are you gonna do, its not like I go to college to be organized or do things smart. That would be too easy.

Hopefully the weekend at work won't be hard though. Last week was hectic. We had two photo shoots in one day in between two shows, and some guy from the Daily Show (no, not John Stewart) was apparently in the audience.

Yesterday someone told me they would be using one of my posts for an essay for one of their classes. Your plagiarizing off me? Really? Take as much offense as you want, but you have got to be so utterly dumb to copy my work that your child will grow up like this girl.

I'm hungry, and I lost my train of thought. If I come up with anything else I'll update. Till then...

Sweet dreams kids.

"I am an asshole but, I do contribute to humanity in one very important way. I share my adventures with the world." - Tucker Max

I just wrote a 5 page essay which I titled "A Future of Certain Melancholy" on how Salman Rushdie mocks the present and foreshadows the future in "At the Auction of the Ruby Slippers". Exciting, I know. Non the less, the writing of this particular essay took so much out of me that I no longer feel able to write the blog entry I was so set on writing tonight. I was going to, instead, post a copy of my essay, but then I figured I'd rather not go through the process of explaining that it is my blog when my professor finds an exact copy of the paper I handed in on the internet with her god-forsaken plagiarism prevention tools. I never understood why plagerism is such a big problem. I mean, if somebody already wrote it, most likely better then me, then why should I bother writing something that has already been written? Its like re-inventing the wheel just to show that I can do it, pointless. But then again, that might just be the part of me talking that doesn't enjoy sitting for 4 hours in front of my laptop typing, editing, and revising.

What I'm trying to say is: you won't be getting anything interesting out of me tonight. So instead I'll give you homework. Yea, I give homework now. Its amazing what you could do with a little photoshoped header and a free acount from blogspot. So here is what you have to do:

Go to TuckerMax.com and read the few stories he has posted up on the website. Then come back soon when I'll have my review of his book "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell" up. Finally, comment away, buy the book, and do cocaine. Just cause you can.

Sweet dreams kids.

P.S. If I didn't think Bud Light was one of the worse beers on the face of the earth this would be an absolutely perfect paragraph:
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"Today we salute you stressed out college student during exam week. As you sit in your lonely cubical in the library, doped up on Starbucks & Adderall, you think to yourself, am I ever going to need to know this stuff in life? The distractions are tempting and you have suddenly diagnosed yourself with ADD along with advanced delusionary schizophrenia with involuntary narcissistic rage, I'm sure by now you know exactly what everyone is doing because you have checked your buddy list 800 times. Christmas is just days away, and your prozac prescription will be in tomorrow. So crack open an ice cold bud light after that last exam, because for most of us, the winter break will be spent in rehab."
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Stolen from Jackie's away message, but she probably stole it from someone else too, so its all good.