Transcendent Ramblings

Last Entry

2005-05-15T19:21:00.000-04:00

Time to move on, stop living in the past, live life unrestrained

Period.

- MB

The Perpetual Search for Divine Inspiration

2005-05-01T05:44:00.000-04:00

Awake, 5:45 a.m. Want to sleep. Can't. Dammit. Must...do something...seemingly constructive:

Top ten songs of this semester:
1. The Postal Service "Natural Anthem"/"Brand New Colony"
2. The Stills "Fevered"
3. Kings of Leon "Milk"
4. The Grand Canyons "You've Got Love"
5. Bright Eyes "Take it Easy"/"Lover I Don't Have to Love"
6. Relient K "Who I Am Hates Who I've Been"
7. Jump, Little Children "15 Stories"
8. The Fiery Furnaces "Straight Street"
9. Death Cab for Cutie "We Looked Like Giants"/"The Sound of Settling"
10. Broken Social Scene "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl"/"KC Accidental"

I realize this list blows and is ultimately pointless, it may not even be entirely accurate; but at least I accomplished something. Yeah.

- MB

Transitions

2005-05-01T04:29:00.000-04:00

New post...no bullshit, GO!

Life. Is. Beauty.
Beauty. Is. Life.
Is. Life. Beautiful?
Let us fail, if be.
Useful bet, Faia.
Table lies...fiu! Fiu!
Okay, that last one was stretching it a little bit, but can you blame me for trying?

- Brabant

Euphoria

2005-04-05T02:56:00.000-04:00

At the moment, I am in fucking hog heaven. No drugs, even pot, necessary, just some great times, open-minded reminiscing, and the truth as provided primarily by my main man, Sean Jarret. I wish this feeling could last forever, I haven't really felt in full comprehension for so long, I am fully content with the world and myself. It rocks.

When I wake in the morning, I genuinely pray that I can feel even a fraction of the pleasure and contentment that I currently feel. The sad truth is, I rarely feel even close to this contented, and there's no real reason why I shouldn't. What the fuck? Why does it take a healthy amount of alchohol to open myself up this much, even when no one else is there to serve as outside influence. Reality is an altogether confusing entity, but at least I have this entry to remind me that there are genuine moments that make it all worth living for and can open me up to everything that has blessed me in this life, and all the reasons I have for cherishing the inherent beauty of my existence.

I rarely am able to look back at my past and relish in it, as opposed to, become depressed by it. I can't analyze this right now, due to the interference of the pleasure receptors of my mind that have been opened up through the imbuance of alchohol. Maybe that's the secret, repressing negativity. Wait, of course that's the secret, what am I thinking? I've found the answer, but how to contain it? Maybe this entry will help...we'll just have to see.

- A (highly) contented Mikey B

Exorcised

2005-03-28T11:14:00.000-05:00

I feel it's gone. The side of me I've come to despise, that may have never really been there in the first place. Time to pick up the pieces, spread the love again. Open myself up and, hopefully, enjoy every moment of it.

What more needs to be said?

- MB

The Progression

2005-03-26T17:28:00.000-05:00

Reviving my fallen soul is going to be a bitch and a half. But guess what? I've already taken the first step. After at least a "good" year of constant THC-use, I have quit, to the largest extent possible. This decision blew in theory because it was an act of conformity, but lo and behold, I've been in a better state of mind the last few days than I have been for quite a while. I almost feel euphoric. However, my negativity is yet to cease and I seem to be experiencing CRAZY mood swings. Insanity, please, for christ's sake, cease and desist.

Primarily, I think the problem is that dissatisfaction with my own actions is forcing me to project feelings of animosity towards me onto other people, even those closest to me. In turn, knowledge of that supposed animosity keeps me from opening up to them, and enjoying spending time with them. Also, I've been venting to my "flatmate" like crazy, simply because I know I can trust him. This would be absolutely fine if not for the fact that I shouldn't really be venting in the first place, and some of the shit I say surprises me even as I say it. In short, I hate being a whiny bitch because those most accepting of me end up getting pushed farther away. Or something. I'm doing this fucking over-analytical bullshit that I hate but inherently thrive upon due to my semi-psychotic nature. Right...

On the plus side, my creativity and intellect have returned. At least now I have a reason to be a condescending asshole. That was meant to be sarcastic, or was it? I really have to stop hating myself but its hard not to when I seem to have this dark side that still, despite a departure from drug use, strives to come out, and does, typically at inopportune times. Well, every time is inopportune considering I currently despise that side of me, but you get my point, or rather I get my point. Whatever, point is, I would really like to just dance with the mermaids and not silently scoff at their scaled appendages.

A proper ending to a perplexing entry.

- MB

Revival of a Fallen Soul

2005-03-20T20:21:00.000-05:00

My personality, values, and mentality have gone through extreme changes throughout the last couple years and, now more than ever, I'm having difficulty coping. I feel like a leech in nearly every facet of my life and that's something I never wanted to have to confront about myself. I used to be a giving person, I still think I am when it comes down to it, so why am I only concerned with how to get my next fix (this doesn't only refer to drugs, but cheap thrills in general)?

I have to quit using "it". That's final. Every time I do, I treat people like shit, nothing feels good to me, I'm dumb as a rock, and nothing really matters. It's horrible. I used to love the stuff, and I don't regret making it as big a part of my life as it has been for the last year or so, but my body has straight-up gotten to the point of rejecting it...hardcore. When it comes down to it, if it wasn't for the friends I've developed bonds with partially through using it, I'd hate myself. I think I still do, to an extent, but it's not like there's no room for recovery.

It's going to be hard at first, there's no doubt in that. I've seriously gotten to a point where psychologically I can only really enjoy myself when I'm f'ed up. Just typing that pains me inside and keeps me from questioning my decision. A life of constant sobriety is going to be hard to get used to, but I lived that way for 18 years of my life, so it's not like my system's going to be shocked. In fact, it should reward me, I'll find the beauty in things I've ignored or not found the value in for far too long.

More than anything, I want to feel like a good person. The absolute irony of where I'm at right now is I understand more than ever how selfish people can be and how there's ultimately no reason to act that way, and yet I can't name a person I consider more selfish than me right now. It's seriously gotten that bad. The first part of fixing a problem is realizing that there is one, and though I've sensed there were things about me I wanted nothing to do with for a while now, I'm finally ready to go to any length to find myself again.

More than anything, I want to find Mikey B again and I want Mikhail Mann to back off for christ's sake. Mikey B surfaces sometimes, primarily when in the company of the Jacksonville Crew, but everytime it's a massive struggle to push Mikhail away. He's ever-present, doing everything in his power to keep me from enjoying anything really, of giving myself over to people as much as I know I should. I feel like I've been on completely different ends of the spectrum between the spring of freshman year and now. For someone to do a complete 180 in a matter of two years is just ridiculous and unnecessary. It's time I found some balance. I just hope it's not too late.

MB

Rollercoaster, favorite ride; let me ride you one last time

2005-03-14T11:26:00.000-05:00

Things have been going really well this semester, there's no doubt in that. There is, however, an ever-constant doubt within me that the person I've become is a person that I, to put it plainly, like. This is one of the first days in a LONG while where my mind feels clear and I actually have a desire to get out of my house and interact with the world. This may sound a little extreme, but I'm pretty sure it's true. Yeah.

Spring Break was a re-awakening for me, but I'm not exactly sure how. I've been sufficiently lacking passion in my life since I got sick way back in early February (I think that's when it was). Not to say I haven't been enjoying life, I've just had no real drive when it comes to getting shit done and actually accomplishing things. Perhaps I'm being over-analytical, as is my tendancy, and perhaps I feel this way at least once a semester, but it wears on me and I don't observe it happening to my friends nearly as frequently.

I used to be a naive optimist. I loved everyone, was open to everything, and enjoyed every moment. I miss those days, but I don't miss getting screwed over quite as often as I did then. The biggest problem with my lack of optimism, however, is that I definitely feel like less of a friend, especially to those people in my life who I friggin' love right now, the people that I sincerely hope will stay my friends long after college.

I guess it all boils down to a line from LIBIDO, "I give so much that I can't help but expect alot in return." Sometimes I feel like I'm getting too much, though. Whatever, I've got work to do. This entry blew, but so do most of my entries on this ill-fated blog.

- MB

Coping with Illness

2005-02-10T17:57:00.000-05:00

For roughly the last two weeks, I have been less-than-healthy, to say the least. My nose has been running like nobody's biznass, my throat is considerably scratchier than it usually is (little THC-head, me), I get semi-frequent and highly debilitating headaches, experience chronic fatigue, and most importantly, have been physically and mentally incapable of performing/partying to even 3/4 of the best of my ability. This has, to a frighteningly large extent, made me a bitter shell of a man. Or maybe it's just that some people won't give me any f'ing time to myself. Hmm...

Last week was quite the shitty week for me to get sick. I had just acquired a large quantity of sticky icky, I was seeing my new lady on a regular basis, and I had an average of 4 hours of rehearsal a night, along with classes I had to go to or suffer the consequences. In short, it blew. The theatre projects I'm involved in suffered the most, as I had no choice but to dread them, lacking the energy and creativity to really commit in rehearsals. I got through it, but it's definitely a week I wouldn't want to repeat.

I would write more but I have a headache. The end.

- MB

What College is All About...to Me

2005-01-24T11:29:00.000-05:00

As of late, I've been doing a lot of contemplation about some of the decisions and actions I've taken since I've been here at good ol' FSU. I'm at a very fulfilling point of my young adulthood right now, but I still can't help but see people, places, etc. and think "What if...?" I'm not really expecting any of what I just stated to seem particularly interesting or original, but I did need a good lead-in to what I'm about to write and couldn't really think of a better intro. Anyways...

It is a human tendancy to see people we haven't really spent time with in a long time and only remember the things that made us like them in the first place, and not those factors that caused us to drift away from them, whether apparent or subconscious. It is also a human tendancy to dwell on annoyances caused by, and disagreements had with, those closest to us. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and overexposure makes film deteriorate. Read into that statement what you will, I rather like it.

My problem right now seems to be that I've been confronted with all these people from the SOT who essentially abandoned me when I needed them most (Last Spring) and are now treating me really well whenever I see them. "Really well" is a relative term, but the point is, I miss them. I could make a LONG list right now of everyone from the SOT I "miss" and why but that would take a ridiculously long time and nobody reads this anyways.

The problem is the following: I REALLY felt like the theatre program completely stopped giving a fuck about me last year, especially during the time following John Degen's death. Or, rather, I fucked myself over and then projected the blame because no one put the kind of effort into giving me a boost that I would have given them if they were in a similar position. I wanted out, I wanted to change schools, I hated myself and my surroundings. I felt like I had tried so hard to be a productive member of the SOT and no one really gave a shit.

My passion for this school more or less died at that point. But now, it seems as though that damned wheel of fortune has turned in my favor again and, at times, I have no fucking clue how to deal with it. I'm incredibly happy, of course, I just have this pre-meditated sense of foreboding (that was an experimental expression that may or may not actually mean anything, by the way) that it's all going to turn to shit again and I'll be just as "broken" as I was before. I hate that. Alot. Bitterness, eat a dick.

The most important thing, I suppose, is not to bitch or talk behind people's backs. That won't be a problem. Then, completely commit myself to everything theatre-related I'm involved in this semester. Then, try to go to at least one theatre party a weekend. My love for theatre and my fellow thespians has finally been restored and, if anything, I should be thrilled. It's a lot more complicated than just jumping in and wanting to be a part of every facet of the SOT again, though (not that I think I'd even want to do that now, anyways).

I guess it's just a matter of taking these last few semesters for what they are, try to get a few more shows under my belt, continue to develop my writing skills and experience, enjoy what moments I get with those friends I've made while here, and earn my f'ing degree. Got to work this Creative Design shiznit out first, though. God damn. There are definitely times where I'd like to just propose to the right girl, buy a small house somewhere, make some babies, and write/work some 9-to-5 job until I get my big break, or don't.

Seriously, though, even if all these good times weren't happening with the SOT, I'd be more than content with my current situation. My "flatmate" rocks as always, having great times with the whole Jacksonville gang, hanging with some of my truly great friends that I feared I might have lost last year (you know who you are...if you even read this...which I'm almost positive you don't...so never mind). There's so much to take in right now, I just want to make sure I'm taking in the right stuff. Yeah. I like that. Entry done.

- MB

Loddy Doddy

2005-01-22T02:40:00.000-05:00

I've been obsessed with Def Jam Vendetta lately. And gangsta rap. And big-bootied honeys. And yet, I am as white as can be. These are the mysteries that plague my everyday existence. My point? Life is grand, and there isn't really anything to bitch about. At all. Thusly, I have done near-to-no writing lately and been spending way too much time with the ladies, playing video games, eating, and...going to class. Alot. Yay for me.

At the end of this semester, I may very well be kicked out of the school of theatre. Unless, of course, I work something out, pledge to take Creative Design after I get back from London. But...we'll see. I'm not worried personally, but if I lose another major (Business being my first, more or less), my parents will be seriously pissed and dissapointed in me. I really just want to start writing on a constant basis, for money. If I could live off my writing, I would be in heaven. Unfortunately, at the moment I am living off my scholarships, 3 semesters of classes left, already losing steam hardcore. Maybe a new major could do me good.

The inner dialogue continues thusly; "I need to graduate, but I love college, the atmosphere, the people, the theatre, everything. However, classes are almost a lost cause because I know what I want to do with my life, no matter what. Wait, why am I thinking about this so much? My classes are going great so far this semester, it'll all work out in the end. Yay...?" And...I'm done.

- MB (cameo by Mikey B?)

Been a While...

2005-01-10T01:48:00.000-05:00

Since I addressed myself through this wonderful invention that is blogging. Needless to say, a shitload has "gone down." I'm in one of those periods where nothing is going wrong, but for whatever reason, I can't help dwelling on past "mistakes" and feeling like shit at times. Also, using quotes. That's a habit I've just picked up again recently. Yeah.

I no longer have any foundation for my sanity. I'm really starting to think that. There is no constant way for me to ground myself, as my mind is rather heavily discombobulated by drug use at this point. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not about to go on some druggie reformist tangent or anything, life is more vibrant now than it's ever been before; it's just hard to gloss over the gray parts sometimes.

I want a constant companion, but can't commit myself to settling down with any one girl. In the back of my mind, I'm always finding negatives in the girls I should be dating, and not allowing myself to be emmersed in the positive as much as I should be. Yep, I've become a bitter shell of a man, who still can't get enough of the ladies. Oh, and there's also the virgin factor. Basically, my romantic life would be ideal if I allowed it to exist, which I don't. And that would be fine, except I also don't allow my sex life to exist. Basically, it's all my fault.

I'm becoming increasingly aware of the fact that there is no constant to morality. I believe in karma hardcore, but still find myself questioning it. There are times when I know beyond a doubt that it's working in my favor, that I've done something truly good and good things are happening as a result. Then, when good times happen and I should be enjoying them to the fullest extent, I end up feeling guilty. I do it to myself, I do. (to quote Radiohead...I think)

I have observed so many people in my life that I now feel I have a nearly full comprehension of how best to exist in this world, and yet I still have trouble actualizing that vision; of the perfect me, I suppose. I set impossible standards for myself and sometimes question whether my friends truly enjoy me for who I am, as a result. This makes me nervous occassionally, even when in the company of some of my best and most trusted friends.

What it all boils down to is that I need to fucking give myself a break and just exist in my current state of life, not mourning past discretions and looking too much into the future. I really feel like a self-loathing, heartless, ambitious bastard sometimes and I hate that. If I'm not careful, my false doubts will become reality. And that, more than anything else, would blow...hard.

- MB (fighting off Mikhail and embracing Mikey B)

Higher Education My Ass: Part 2

2004-11-14T11:31:00.000-05:00

I wrote the following almost immediately after my previous entry. It is intended to be read in monologue form and I will be using it as part of a theatre project I'm in. Here it is, in its entirety:

So, the other day I was thinking about elementary school. Yellow buses, brown bag lunches, long division, all that bullshit. Even at that age, I was a scholastic rebel. I acted like I was sick one day and had my aunt drive an hour to pick me up at school. The reason? I didn’t feel like having to draw in class. It went as followed: My 3rd grade teacher announces after recess: “We’re going to draw.” I announce “I feel, uh, sick. I have to go home.” I make a big deal out of leaving and then go to the nurse’s office. There, I call my mom at work, no answer. My dad, no answer. They call my aunt Barb, the emergency contact. I just want to get out of class. A little more than an hour later, I’m out of there. I get home, my parents are both at work. I play video games for 3 hours uninterrupted. It is sweet. I didn’t know what the hell my teacher was going to make us draw, or even whether I’d learn from, or enjoy doing, it. I just knew I was chilling at home, zoning out, instead of laboring through an afternoon at school.

Why do we even attend school in the first place? To keep order in society? To mediate the evolution of our species? I have no idea. None of us do. We first go to school because our parents want us to, then because society and the man want us to, and finally because we realize how much it has helped us when it comes down to it and are able to embrace it as a positive aspect of our individual development.

Here’s my problem, though; the concept of grades blows, and always has. It puts the emphasis on conformity, as opposed to, creativity. As letter grades typically correspond directly with a percentile grade, we also become a number and are judged according to that number. This is not a reflection of how much we learned in a particular class or even how much effort we put into it or the extent to which we contributed to the class as a whole. No! The comprehension we have gained from each and every class we have ever taken in our life can be summed up in a single letter. A is excellent, B is good, C is satisfactory, D is needs improvement, and F is failing; as an individual, in the terms of how our society has come to place emphasis on these simple, unexpressive letters. And what the hell happened to E?

Furthermore, all of the letters we have obtained through our many years of schooling can be combined to form a number between 0 and 4. This is referred to as a cumulative GPA. Right now, I’d say I’m about a 3.2. But what the hell does that mean? There’s nothing in it about how I gave my 2nd grade teacher a butterfly I’d found wounded and she nursed it back to health, not a word detailing the beauty of Anne Sawalich, in 7th grade, when she became the first crush I ever had.

Nothing about little league, or 30 hours a week rehearsing for the local ]community theatre’s production of Sweeney Todd, or writing well over a million papers, or first learning about Theatre of the Absurd, Amadeus, Sondheim, Radiohead, the female form, captain morgan’s rum, nattie light from the keg, djarum cloves, Mr. Show, John Degen, the parties, the bullshit, the girls, the cockblocks, the conversations, the hook-ups, the debates, the performances, the world as I have viewed it throughout the last 13+ years of my life. There is only a number. And it blows.

- MB

Higher Education My Ass

2004-11-12T14:44:00.000-05:00

So, this entry is going to have just about the opposite tone of yesterday's entry. I'm in quite the negative mood at the moment and looking to capitalize upon it creatively. My detestment for the scholastic system in the United States has reached an all-time high. I've learned more in my classes this semester than anyone else really and yet, as the semester grows to a close, a less-than-desirable GPA is becoming increasingly probable. I fucking hate it. When brilliance is filtered and mediocrity reinforced, what good is institutionalized education? Sit on that thought for a while, and then read this:

I have never learned in a conventional manner. Throughout my scholastic career, I have avoided biases and therefore found myself in a contradictory position as far as how I am viewed by my teachers. The really great ones, those with a true passion for the material they are teaching, end up considering me one of the best students they've ever had. Those who simply teach from the book or haven't really formed their own educated opinions on the material end up considering me a slacker simply because I refuse to regurgitate information when I doubt the source itself. I've walked this line for as long as I can remember, and luckily, my achievements when it comes to classes I really enjoy has managed to outdo my failures resulting from apathy concerning courses taught by half-hearted teachers.

My big problem this semester has been that, even with professors who are passionate about the material they teach and seem to want to facilitate my unconventional learning style, I simply cannot deal with the workload. I have so much going on in my life right now that it's not even a matter of being unable to prioritize effectively. I simply don't have enough time to get everything done when it "needs" to be done.

As this semester has progressed, I have found myself experiencing two completely separate worlds. In one, I am cherished, appreciated, and pulsate with newfound creativity. In the other, I am worthless, I never get anything done on time, my opinions are laughable simply because others don't try to understand them, and noone gives a shit about me, ultimately. It is a very fine line I walk, and I fear I am about to lose my balance.

As of today, it has become abundantly clear to me that, despite the fact that I've bounced back and have been to pretty much every class in the last two weeks, there's still no way I'm getting better than a C in anything but Directing I. If I'm truly lucky, I'll end up with one A, maybe a B, and the rest C's. If I'm unlucky, I could end up with a B, a couple C's, and maybe even a D. It doesn't sound that bad in theory, I know, but there are many ramifications that come along with such grades that would seriously screw me for a while.

The weekend is here. Thank god. That gives me at least a few days to collect my thoughts, focus on the positive, and not give up entirely on my classes. I'm just really fed up with the academic side of this semester and I am sick and fucking tired of writing papers. It's taking away from my creativity, my passion for writing. In some part, I have sacrificed my heart as a writer in exchange for a ridiculous amount of papers that ultimately will result in me "earning" mediocre-at-best grades this semester.

Thus, I am more than a bit agitated at the moment. It never fails that every time I start to feel the world is a wholly good place and everything is starting to go my way, as I think I deserve at least to some extent, the somewhat bitter reality of my current state of existence becomes apparent to me. Ah, well, without adversity there is no need for maturation/evolution of self. So, i's all good, I guess. But still, goddamitt.

- Mikhail Mann (edited by MB)

Flying High

2004-11-11T23:27:00.000-05:00

The rumors of my breakdown have been largely exaggerated. Alot has made me bitter, a great deal more has moved me to cherish the world and life as we know it. Currenly, my world is a beautiful, beautiful place that I am blissfully emmersed in. As I move myself to maximize comprehension while blessed with good fortune, success heaps upon success until my gratitude bursts at the seams and I am flooded with contentment. This upbeat attitude has had a positive effect on my life, as well, specifically my love life.

Love, again? Could it be? I feel it coming. With my only true love as of yet fully removed from my mind I feel myself progressively opening up to the fairer gender. I have always "loved the ladies", but this is a newfound passion. Perhaps a sexual one. My virginity has become a flag of morality for me, however, and losing it entails drawbacks.

I am obsessed with the female body, and yet, I still have no trouble repressing my physical desire to "procreate," my source of attraction is far more mental than physical. Feminine beauty is fully apparent to me, but not essential. Something to be appreciated, not expected.

I have not felt a girl's lips against my own for more than half-a-year. On one hand, it's been hell. On the other, I've had a renewed sense of independence that has inspired me to achieve new heights in my personal and professional life. I have a feeling my drought is soon to end. What should I expect? Should I even be pondering it in the first place? No matter what the case is, I can't wait to find out.

- Mikey B (intro by MB)

Something Awful

2004-11-07T22:02:00.000-05:00

http://www.somethingawful.com/I didn't know what came over me that night but I went with Ricardo to the United States and wrote for his internet. At first my writing skills were poor at best. I did not know English and did not even know how to write in Spanish! Posting articles on the front page was nerve-racking. When I posted my first article a man on the forums wrote what seemed like a five page essay on why my article sucks and why I should kill myself and my children so that the world must never bear another Spokker Jones article again. But when the goings got tough I always remembered what my kickboxing coach used to tell me in Mexico, "In kickboxing you must fight dirty, because you are a dirty Mexican." I worked on my frontpage updates long and hard until I could finally write a coherent sentence. My skills increased so that I could write articles on a variety of sensitive topics such as sand, butts, and Moof. But there was always one topic that I was too afraid to write about. It was much too controversial for our audience. It would frazzle too many hairs. It would put too many soccer moms in a tizzy. It would make conservative right-wing pro-life gun nuts explode. If I were to reveal the truth then the entire world would suffer a total breakdown. But that was then. Now I feel like the world is ready. I have the strength and courage to speak the truth! The world needs to know! That's right folks.
This update is about ducks.

The state of the world

2004-11-04T03:59:00.000-05:00

Bush was re-elected. God dammit. I don't know what to think. I do know, however, that the world is in a very precarious spot right now, but it's always been. Humankind will survive, I just hope that the end of an era isn't upon us. So...barring that highly abstract and frighteningly practical notion, I'm at a creative high right now. However, my sense of responsibility is gradually receding, I fear in a negative manner. So, to cope with that which may be ultimately inconsequential, let the writing begin:

By being completely honest with myself, I sometimes fail to be honest with others. I assume their desires may not be the same as mine, and therefore restrain myself. There is a middle-ground between fulfillment and lack of consequences that I have yet to fully realize.

In my search to find what truly drives me, the source of my optimal comprehension, it is difficult to appreciate all that I experience along the way. In the process, I intermittently fail to cherish those close to me. However, those who truly care about me are cognizant of this and guilty themselves. Through this process, I am able to find who are my true friends are and be true to myself simultaneously.

As with fulfillment/consequences, I have yet to fully realize the ideal middlegrounds between finding myself and experiencing others.

Everything is relative. Thus, this entry ends.

- MB (beginning by Mikey B, body by Mikhail)

The teeter totter continues to tip...totally

2004-11-02T01:20:00.000-05:00

I'm currently at that point in every fall semester when I have to start getting my fucking shit done. I probably won't sleep much, but the sleep I do get will be cherished wholly. Sleep for 10 hours, stay up for 24, rest for 4, stay up for 36 more, repeat the cycle. That's 14 hours of sleep for every 60 hours of staying up. Pretty damn crazy.

Insomnia no longer exists as a word to me; for, if the concept of insomnia does indeed exist, then I am in a state of insomnia for the majority of my waking time. However, adrenaline, stamina, and constitution combine to help me endure throughout. This sounds like an energy supplement pitch. Moving on...

I'm incredibly thankful to be acting on a regular basis again. Last semester, the only time I got to act was in class; Acting 1. Now, I'm involved in several projects I really like and am highly commited to. It's quite thrilling. I just can't wait to perform again.

Libido needs to be worked on. I'd like to finish the second act within the next couple weeks. Sorry, I'm basically just giving myself reminders, because absolutely noone ever reads this but me. If people are reading, please post. I'm lonely. Not really, but I don't mind shameless compliments. Send feedback. Or don't. Either really. They both work.

- MB (opening by Mikhail, ending by Mikey B.)

What is it about "it"?

2004-10-28T15:20:00.002-04:00

I realize that my last couple entries have been less-than-comprehensive, to say the least (that was lousy sentence structure, but I like the way it sounds, so...yeah). I will only say that it's been a crazy few weeks and I think my writings reflect that. I'm ready for a break, of sorts. Get back in my own mind again. So, without further adieu, here's an entry that might actually make sense (not that anyone other than myself reads this anyways):

Because I am such an easy-going person, I rarely receive criticisms. There is someone very close to me, however, that has always been blatantly (at least when addressing me about them) opposed to the "activities" I take part in, despite being a highly open-minded and intelligent person herself (if you're not sure what "activities" I'm referring to, lTlrust lHlis lClomprehension...if you still don't get it, just freaking read between the lines, or ls in this case).

What floors me is that she is the only person I really care about, other than my parents of course, who has actually voiced a belief that these "activities" might have a negative effect on my life. If it was anyone else saying this, I would act like I was taking what they said seriously and then basically just ignore it, but I have a hard time discarding her opinion for a number of reasons.

Why would she say anything in the first place? I rarely take part in the aformentioned activities (which will from now on simply be referred to as "it" because I'm sick of writing "activities" all the time) while I'm around her and it's not as if she has solid proof that "it" is affecting me negatively. Additionally, it's not as if I go around talking about how much I love "it" or that I lack respect for her opinion. Also, I'm happier now than I've ever been. It's not as if taking part in "it" is ruining my life or anything, I'm definitely not in a bad place right now. Due to my inability to put my finger on what her ultimate reason is for actually confronting me about it, it makes me even more intrigued as to why her concern over it is so great.

The reasons circulating in my brain will stay right there because all of them upset me and make me think things that, if they aren't really true, are not good things to think at all. One is that a certain group of people that my friend spends alot of time with think less of me due to my usage of "it" and feel the need to discuss "it" far more than they should, to the point that my friend has no option but to constantly group me with "it", and therefore judge me based on my usage of "it".

What really pisses me off about this option is that on the few occassions when using "it" does affect me negatively, I am completely aware of it and if anyone said something in the moment it might actually have an effect on me. My friend claims this probably has happened and it just didn't resonate with me because I was under "its" influence. I don't think she realizes how disrespectful this is towards me, ultimately. The reason I use "it" on a semi-regular basis is because I know that "it" simply serves as an extension of myself and I am in control of all my faculties while under "its" influence; and, in the case of my mental faculties, it seems to even stimulate them. They thrive under its influence. I realize this may, at times, be a Placebo effect of sorts, but I really could care less. All that matters is I feel as if "it" has a positive effect on my life.

It's not as if I haven't put a helluva lot of thought into this. I've quit for months at a time, no problems, and loved "it" just as much once I started up again. I've never had any legal action taken against me due to the use of "it", I've met great people and had plenty of damn good times with "it", and some of my best work has been done under "its" influence. So, as much as I respect this individual, I can't help but be anything other than agitated when she obstinantly refuses to accept that "it" could have any positive effect on me at all.

What she really doesn't seem to understand is that if I quit using "it", I'd dissapoint far more people than she seems to think I do using "it" in the first place. Some of my best friends have been formed through a mutual love for "it", I have been made a more confident and out-going person through my usage of "it", and my overall comprehension of the world on several facets has been expanded. And if you don't believe me when I say that, fuck you. Well, not you, but your philosophies when it comes to "it". I don't get very defensive when it comes to much at all, really, but I'll make an exception for "it". End of discussion.

Bonus

2004-10-24T03:26:00.000-04:00

"You don't need to emerge from nothing, you don't need to tear away. You don't need to...emerge from nothing, you don't need to...tear away. You...don't...need...to. Tear away. Emerge. From. Nothing." -Fischerspooner

- The Matrix is a commentary on music-downloading

Morpheus rocks. I've been using it all day. Sweet jesus. That is all. More later.

MB

Velvet is Enough

2004-10-24T02:59:00.000-04:00

"In the end, the dreams you dream are all you ever were" -Flickerstick

Velveteen collectiveness blurs my inner being. I have seen that which I will have seen tommorrow. And yet, on a different level. From a varying perspective. A light of particular luminosity. The lens will not lie, but it will deceive intermittently.

The inherent beauty of words brings me emmense pleasure as both a writer and a member of the human race. My head is spinning, delightfully. I must retire. But not without a stab at something real.

When I look at a barren space, I no longer see something vacant. I see the possibilities yet to be conceived, carried out, and brought to fruition. Yeah, I liked that.

- Mikey B

A Question of Form, a Form of Question

2004-10-22T17:28:00.000-04:00

Why do misperceptions exist? I mean, think about it. If God created us in his image, why are we unable to fully perceive the world He created for us to live in? In this edition of "Transcendent Ramblings", I'm going to ponder several things, all...or some...or none...uh, relating to; wait, what was I saying again? Eh, fuck it. Here are some letters I've combined in particular sequences to create words, which I in turn sequenced in such a way as to create sentences, and even paragraphs. Additionally, you will notice the implementation of non-alphabetic figures within the aforementioned "paragraphs." These are collectively referred to as punctuation, which serves to imply phonetic composition. Allow the equivocation to begin:

ew era yhw,egami sih ni su detaerc doG fI .ti tuoba kniht,naem I ?tsixe snoitpecrepsim od yhW tnednecsnarT" fo noitide siht nI ?ni evil ot su rof detaerc eH dlrow eht eviecrep ylluf ot elbanu
,tiaw ;ot gnitaler ,hu...enon ro...emos ro...lla ,sgniht lareves rednop ot gniog m'I ,"sgnilbmaR
ralucitrap ni denibmoc ev'I srettel emos era ereH .ti kcuf ,hE ?niaga gniyas I saw tahw
dna ,secnetnes etaerc ot sa yaw a hcus ni decneuqes nrut ni I hcihw ,sdrow etaerc ot secneuqes
serugif citebahpla-non fo noitatnemelpmi eht eciton lliw uoy ,yllanoitiddA .shpargarap neve
,noitautcnup sa ot derrefer ylevitcelloc era esehT ".shpargarap" denoitnemerofa eht nihtiw
:nigeb ot noitacoviuqe eht wollA .noitisopmoc citenohp ylpmi ot sevres hcihw

- Mikhail Mann
nnaM liahkiM -

Climax to Parade

2004-10-22T04:15:00.000-04:00

I will never understand...

If I live a thousand lifetimes, why you did the things you did. For me. Just look at you, how could I not be in love with you; what kind of fool could have taken you for granted for so-oh lo-oh-ng. All the wasted time, all the million ho-ow-urs, pushing you away. Building up my wa-ah-ll...all the days gone by, to glare to pout, to push you out. And I never knew anything...a-ah-t all. I never knew anything. At all.. ........ ... .. ... .............. .. ... .... .........

I will never understand how a-aw-ll the world misjudged you. When I have always know how lucky I must be. I will never understand. How I kept from going crazy.. just waiting there til' you came home to me. Now, look at me...now that you're finally here with me .., now that I know I was right to wait and everything else was so wrong for so long! All the wasted time.

All the wasted time. Years, still too proud to cry. All the days, don't satisfy. Anything. I never knew anything at all.

All the wasted hours. Leaves touch roots. Fall. I loved you so. I never knew......

At all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!

(Jason Robert Brown, you are a musical god)

- Mikey B (intro by Mikhail)

By the Hands of God

2004-10-16T13:39:00.000-04:00

The extent to which cannibis remains taboo in certain circles today floors me. Barring that, however, life is kicking more-than-sufficient ass at the moment. My self-will seems slightly deteriorated, but with good faith, it is all for the best. I'm going to go a little extreme today, seeing as how I've neglected to update this blog due to computer malfunction. But now, magically, my computer works once again. I am currently listening to a violin tribute to Radiohead and Tool. I cannot even describe how brilliant it is. I am listening to it in full veneration. So...time for a religious tangent. Enjoy.

I technically grew up Catholic. I went to CCD classes. I remember the bread being really good, but not much else. Then, my first communion came. Now, at this point, a very materialistic side of me came out because, the moment I got my stockpile of gifts, I had an almost instantaneous re-examination of faith.

In all honesty, my parents had given me the option of continuing to practice the faith or to give myself a couple years to find myself after my first communion. I choose the latter option. It was only a perk that I got a bunch of gifts out of it. To my credit, I began attending Catholic mass regularly once again, the summer after I graduated high school, with my then-girlfriend.

I enjoy Catholic philosophy, and the message it is founded upon. However, I don't exactly agree with the theological perspective of Catholicism. To me, the concept of Jesus is not meant to be taken literally, it is a symbol of those human beings who are elevated to the state of heroism due to inherent goodness. These people are everywhere, and although they may be significant to varying extents, they are all important in their own way.

I have been studying Buddhism lately. Taoism, Rastafarianism and, of course, Sheilaism, intrigue me as well. I have been studying them all in little chunks, and think I'm going to stick with Sheilaism, which is a religious concept established by the counter-culture of the 1960's that allowed for each individual to create their own, unique religion. I guess "Sheila" was the first to do this. Sheila rocks.

Religion makes an ideal subject matter for theatre because it naturally involves concepts that concern us all. Death, being a major one. Nearly all religious plays are technically comedies because the hero ascends to heaven, after being promised eternal bliss, and is praised for millenia to come. Religion is the shit, man.

Also, sexual relationships become beautiful when viewed from a religious perspective. Couples destined to be together, chosen by God to live in harmony forever, creating offspring that are wholly good in nature. This is the typical context of a play involving religion. The problem that arises from this is a significant lack of conflict. No catharsis for the audience to learn from. Everything starts good, stays good, and ends good. Kind of dull, right?

To avoid making this a pitch for a play I'm writing, I'm going to change the subject quick...somehow. Oh, got it. I feel that religion is important to be aware of, and sometimes enlightened by, but should not be adhered to fervently. This behavior is typically classified as hereticism. It's what led to the Crusades, a horrible tragedy that resulted in countless innocent deaths. There was even a Children's Crusade (maybe even several, I'm not sure) that completely involved children, thousands, all slaughtered.

Well, on that note, I think I'm going to take a shower, eat, and watch something really damn funny. You should do the same.

Those damn foreignors

2004-10-13T01:39:00.000-04:00

It's been a while. I apologize. Here goes entry #10:

I am going to try to write to the rhythm of what I'm currently listening to, which is the phenomenally trance-esque music of Shpongle. Of course, there's no way for me to confirm this, as it only can be viewed by me. But trust me, it's pretty damn awesome.

The difficulty of being a "scribe" for me personally is that I need to constantly think what I'm writing is original in order to have the ambition to produce a final product. That is why "the tangent" has become a necessary fixture of this blog. I apologize. Or don't. Either really. They both work.

Or do they? I heard yesterday that something's amiss and only Canadians hold the key to "solving the problem" (it's a bomb). By the way, don't take any of this seriously. I try to keep things politically correct when I'm being serious, but I get sarcastic when I'm attempting humor. Whatever. The point is, I like Canada. The inhalation of the "deadly" chemical THC is nearly legal there. And, I mean, how can you not like that?

I really want to travel overseas. I've heard stories, seen films/documentary/the Discovery channel; all that jazz. Now, I just really want to go there. London, Australia, Japan, France, the list goes on. What's my point? There is no point. I just really want to go overseas. Badly. With a passion. I mean, sweet jesus, you have no idea. Well, maybe now you do.

My candide nature beckons me to put a relatively premature end to this entry. Better safe than sorry, I suppose. I sense an extensive rant approaching soon, though.

Canadian-lover,

Mikey B.

What can I say?

2004-10-10T15:31:00.000-04:00

When riding this wave of consciousness called life, we sometimes indulge ourselves in moments of insanity. Currently, I am under the influence of the chemical Psilocybin. It is sweet. Here is some writing. I hope you enjoy it.

When met with adversity, it has become clear to me that anything can be confronted and overcome, as long as the intention is right. However, the ultimate adversity that must be overcome is the closemindedness that all of us inherently possess.

We are born as a blank slate. With no imprint on our intellects. Genetics may exist from the start, but the only way in which they stimulate intellect is by causing us to react to things in certain ways. Therefore, they technically are not with us at birth. In that moment after we are born, our beings are infinitely bombarded by every single activity. That is why delivery rooms in hospitals are all white. And it's very light. And the doctors, the nurses, they're all wearing white. How about that.

Anyways, the reason for everything being white, I believe, is the following: to compensate for that moment of complete unbias. And...I'm spent.

- Mikhail

A fanatical equivocation

2004-10-09T13:56:00.000-04:00

I only choose the title for this entry because I thought it would be fun to make you think you were going to read something crazy. Well, sorry, but I'm gonna get a little sappy today. I am really in a fantastic place right now and just enjoying the world's intricacies. So, for today's installment of "Transcendent Ramblings," I intend to rock your f-ing socks off. Rock 'em. Fucking off. All right, here we go:

I was lucky enough to have a musical upbringing. My dad is a master of music history, a true genius when it comes to the progression of modern music in the United States. He grew up on the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and the Who; amongst other not as well-known bands, but influential all the same. During the sixties, when he was in his late teens, he would often spend entire days listening to yet-to-be-mainstream albums by the likes of Led Zeppelin, David Bowie, Pink Floyd, and Jimi Hendrix.

He lived during the era of Woodstock, when rock n' roll was first staking its claim on the American music industry. It was the time of the Hippies. A musical revolution quickly evolved into an entire counter-culture. (I would make more comments here, but I've made a solemn vow not to reference drugs on this blog. But, yeah, I think it goes without saying that the emergence of sixties counter-culture may have been stimulated by a little chemical known as THC.) There, I said it. You'll regret it. Let's forget him, better still. That's a rough estimation of lyrics from Tommy, the rock opera. An album that my dad bought the moment it hit the shelves. Because he is a musical guru.

My mother grew up in a great household. Her mom was an incredibly good-natured, fun-loving person and her dad is very dedicated and protective of those he loves. She always got along with her brothers and sisters, and learned to love life. She had a similar musical upbringing as my dad, with a vastly reduced emphasis on the behind-the-scenes world of music, but very similar tastes. I think this is one of the main reasons they first grew closer.

I also am now contemplating a theory. Now, this is going to initially strike you as ridiculous, but give it a chance. When two people fall in love, it is tested by some greater being. Those factors within them that are most compatible are passed along to their children in the greatest amounts. It obviously follows then that, if two people are drawn together by the qualities they'd most want to see in their children, then those traits will be passed on in abundance to their offspring, and therefore they will have close-to-perfect children, from their perspective.

The birth itself is, in my opinion, the most pivotal stage in child development. I do believe that unconditional love exists, but I also think that parents are naturally more proud of, and caring towards, children who possess the traits they value. That now sounds like common sense. Sweet...I think.

Well, that epiphany burnt me out. It's the weekend. I am thrilled. Tommorrow will be a crazy, crazy day. Expect one hell of an en-tray.
Yeah.

- Mikhailailio

On the teeter-totter of fulfillment

2004-10-07T18:37:00.000-04:00

The last couple of days have been, quite honestly, crazy as hell for me. My classes are in a constant state of flux, I waver between accomplishment and failure, cherished student and disappointment, slacker and intellectual. From moment to moment, I am in constant jeopardy, but also constant fulfillment. Anyways...for today's tangent I have chosen the topic of writer's block. Which I have, by the way. Well, talking about what's ailing you is supposed to fix it I think, so here goes:

My writer's block, I believe, is an unconventional one. I am such a perfectionist when it comes to my writing that I often will work so hard to fix something retrospectively inconsequential that I get frustrated and no longer can have fun writing. I am also a writer who works through passion, not need. Therefore, it is important that I am enjoying myself while writing because otherwise I will feel compromised as an artist. And being proud of what I write gives me the confidence I need to actually write in the first place. It's a cycle, of sorts.

It's almost become necessity now for me to be constantly writing on tangents in all forms of my work. Papers are essentially improvised, as my only source is my knowledge of the material. I write in the moment. Or I can't make decisions, I get frustrated, and I give up. Well, usually not give up, but get bored. Bored with the fact that what I'm writing no longer comes from my heart, but from necessity. To get a letter grade.

Today, as I walked down the street, I pondered the idea that we are graded in college (and other levels of education, I'm sure) by society. What the masses deem appropriate results from students who have mastered, to a considerable extent, the subject matter of the class. Most people would argue it's the professors who decide, but then why scantroned tests? I mean, sure the professors decide on the questions, but aren't those usually taken from some text book? Who commissioned those text books? Publishing Companies. And what hierarchial confederation do Publishing Companies belong to? That's right, "The Man."

And...I just lost any concept of what the hell I was trying to say. Damn. That sounded pretty good too. Anyways, I just think it blows that there's such an emphasis put on grades. College should be pass/fail. True success depends on how many bonds you form in college, how many new experiences you have, the extent to which your comprehension of our world is increased. And I'm not just saying that because I am a seemingly irresponsible student. Well, kind of, but I've also seriously put some thought into this. For at least the last 2 minutes. Maybe more, even.

I'm rambling, so it's time to say goodbye. Later.

- Mikhail

A Bonus Thought

2004-10-07T13:41:00.000-04:00

Seeing as how my last entry came so late in the day, and I'm feeling inspired, I thought I'd bust out something a little extra. The following is a contemplation I came upon a couple days ago and have been intrigued by ever since:

What if you woke up one day and went outside to find that every person you encountered had somehow influenced your life in the past? If everyone you passed by, saw driving a car, stood in line with at the supermarket, had some undeniable link in your past, you just couldn't put your finger on what it was exactly?

Noone would be a stranger, but you wouldn't really know any of them. Every exchange would be a game of cat-and-mouse, with you trying to keep your identity hidden and them trying to remind you of theirs. Because they'd all know exactly who you were, where they'd met you, how you'd influenced them. And you'd be a horrible person for not knowing.

"But it's beyond my control!" You want to scream. You want to run. Hide. Or, at least, find someone you do remember. Someone who can console you and explain to everyone else that it's not your fault you don't remember who they are. Someone who can sense that you're not pushing your old life away, but instead embracing your new one. Choosing not to judge others on what they've been to you in your past.

And...that's what happens when my imagination goes crazy. Expect the "real" entry for the day to come sometime tonight.

- Mihail

Nostalgia for Nostalgia's Sake

2004-10-07T04:22:00.000-04:00

In this very special installment of "Transcendent Ramblings", I have decided to confront the relatively unexplored concept of nostalgia. I intend to do this while listening to the album Vespertine (specifically "Heirloom") by the artist known only as...Bjork. And...Go.

Why is that I so long to spend only a few moments with those I once spent hours upon hours in the company of? Those whose proximity I once neglected, and now would give nearly anything to have again. Those whose brilliance I was only assured of in their absence. Or is it all just part of maturity?

It is. Well, that settles that argument. Now, if only there were some easy method of reconnecting with people, knowing that they'd always be a part of your life. But people move, people change, people grow apart, people go in different directions, people build up resentments, people hide the truth from each other, people become afraid to confront the past. And then, there's always the inevitable person-separator (I tried desparately to think of a better term, but unfortunately failed. The problem will be fixed soon), death.

We are all destined to, one day, be parted from this world, and along with it friends, family, possessions, our physical forms even. It's a harrowing thought. And...to avoid going on a religious tangent, I'm going to deftly change the subject.

I sometimes find myself fixated on a memory of my life long ago. Playing catcher for the "Bad News Braves" (a little league baseball team my dad coached for a while), trick-or-treating on Muskego Drive (where I lived during my middle school years), the Cub Scout derby I actually made a damn good race car for. These memories are hidden in the back of my mind because I have, over the course of several years, been able to mentally separate my childhood spent in Wisconsin from my past 6+ years spent here in Florida. I suppose I've also done the same thing, to some extent, when it comes to my high school years in Ocala and my college years in Tallahassee. But, I digress.

Despite the separation, I have retained a considerable remembrance of my life in Wisconsin. I just choose to repress it for the sake of not getting hung up on what now seems so far removed from me. While living in Ocala, there were nights where I'd get inspired by one fond memory of my childhood and spend hours on end reminiscing with photos, etc. But now, when I look at those photos, I don't see pictures of myself. I see pictures of what was.

It is always an initially shocking revelation for me, seeing photos of myself when I was younger. Soon, though, the shock wears away and only a temperance remains. I am reminded of how joyful my childhood was. And it makes my troubles seem inconsequential.

Well, I am really beat. Need. Sleep. Sorry for the delay on today's entry, I pulled an all-nighter and, after an intense afternoon yoga session, I slipped into a 9-hour nap. Those are fun.

Salutations,

Mikhail Mann

Getting into some kind of funk (not the music)

2004-10-05T20:48:00.000-04:00

The last couple days have, quite simply, blown for me. I've lacked both passion and energy throughout. So, here's the deal with today's tangent; I'm going to just let myself write whatever it is I need to vent about so that I might get over it and move on with my life. It's called a cathartic rant, and I pray it works. My musical selection for writing this piece is Peter Gabriel's "Passion", which also served as the soundtrack for Martin Scorsese's The Last Temptation of Christ. All right, well, here goes nothing:

It seems I have become nearly incapable of emotional stability, when it comes to self-perception, affection towards others, personal values, etc. I feel almost as if I have completely discarded the person I was during my adolescent years and prior to that, and in the process, lost any concept of who I truly am.

I guess that all comes with college/"growing up", but it's still a bitter pill to swallow. I feel completely different about love than I did for the first 18 years of my life. Same goes with drugs. And friendship. And what I want to do with my life. And American society, in general. Everything, really. Most of the changes are positive, in my opinion, an evolved awareness of sorts.

At the same time, however, I can't help but feel empty without my innocence. I still have a sense of morality, and free will of course, but nothing really shocks me anymore. There is nothing I'm startled by, or that truly outrages me. Nothing I consider, at first glance, to be wholly wrong. In rationalizing my own actions, I have lost any sense of blissful ignorance. The world is now more apparent to me, but not always in a desirable way.

It is nearly impossible for me to blindly obey orders/responsibilities. If I can't convince myself that I am choosing to do something, I simply will not be able to do it. This sounds like extreme obstinance, but I'm also honing my ability to understand the deeper meaning of things, and therefore, make them relevant to my life somehow. Still, I'd definitely consider my gradually-intensifying obstination a vice.

My grades are suffering. However, my personal comprehension of the material covered in my classes has improved. It's all a matter of interpretation, I suppose. Is it better to digest every fact thrown at me in a class so that I know it all in the short-term and obtain a good grade but not have the information resonate as well with me in the long-term, or should I embrace my current outlook on academics? Am I simply making up for a daytime lethargy developed over time through excessive late-night partying? Or am I on the right track, ultimately? The world will never know.

It's been a busy day, and I'm not in the biggest writing mood. So, unfortunately, that's as far as this tangent's gonna go. Well, there's always tommorrow...

- Mikhail Mann

And...love.

2004-10-04T20:42:00.000-04:00

Well, this should be an interesting entry. I've decided today to write on a tangent with a theme in mind. That theme (in case you couldn't tell from the title of the entry) is love. Yep. Good old-fashioned love. I've probably spent a quarter of my adolescent life and on contemplating/experiencing first-hand this viable juggernaut of angst, frustration, irritation, sadness, grief, dissapointment, fear, rejection, regret, confusion, despair, pity, tragedy, and, oh yeah, every once in a while, if I'm really really lucky, the most genuine and full-on elation I have ever experienced. Okay, then, here goes:

Let me begin by stating that I have chosen to write this entry while listening to a mix c.d. I made for my last girlfriend who promptly returned it to me after the events that led to our retrospectively harmless break-up. At least on my behalf. I suffered enough during the relationship. Not that she's not a great girl and I regret dating her or anything, it was just doomed from the start. We both wanted different things and for different reasons. We're very compatible, and that's why we did end up dating, but it just wasn't the right time. At all.

Or, at least, that's what I've told myself over and over again. The truth is, I fucked up in a bunch of little ways, she fucked up in some more, I couldn't handle it, I really fucked up. There were alot of other things involved, as is usually the case, but when it comes down to it we just weren't meant to be. Yeah. Thanks political correctness, I blame you for my completely lackluster analysis of my last real relationship. (By the way, I actually did write all this in the moment. And it's still really dull. If I had been trying to summarize every failed relationship of all time, I think the preceding rant would have fit perfectly. However, as a summary of my last relationship, it blows. Seriously. Well, I guess that's what happens when things have to be held back for public consumption...)

Well, I've had enough of making vague references to my troubled romantic past (for now), time for some good ol' self-actualization. As of late, I've been contemplating what makes me so damn good at befriending girls, developing the potential for a physical relationship, and then just not having it work out. I'm seriously a pro at this point. To the extent that it doesn't really bother me anymore. I guess. Maybe. Yeah? It does bother me. That'll never change. Until I'm married. To the right woman. The one I want to spend my entire life with. But when will I decide that? Will I ever decide that? Do I even have the capacity to decide when, and who with, I'll truly be able to settle down.

I mean, I've felt that way before, once. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind who I was going to spend the rest of my life with, I felt real love, I wanted nothing more than to spend as much time with this girl as I possibly could. Then I went to college. And met girls. Lots of them. And started drinking. That didn't help things. Also, I was seeing her maybe a couple days a month, if I was lucky. Monogamy became not a statement of intent, but a crutch. Something I was ashamed of. I felt trapped, even if it was by the love of my life. I knew, if something didn't change, the shit would hit the fan soon.

It was Easter weekend. We were in her room, having an intimate moment, when I made the dreaded suggestion. Open. Relationship. She cried. I consoled her. She agreed wholeheartedly expecting me to "sense" she hated the idea. She should have just been honest. I should have just stayed faithful. We should have waited it out 'til the Summer. We didn't. I returned to college, feeling uplifted. I was free to do whatever I wanted now. Oddly, I didn't care. My love had been renewed, monogamy could be cherished once again. I called her that night, yearning for the sound of her voice. No answer. For 2 weeks, no answer. I instant messaged her. No answer. Another call. No answer. No answer. No answer. No answer. No answer. No answer. Then, she called me.

A break. That's what she asked for. I'd had my freedom, now she wanted hers. I honored her. She dishonored me. A week later, a new boyfriend. A guy she claimed she'd never date. A pawn, who she manipulated with sexuality to make me regret mine. My heart, and my libido, were broken. It was 5 months before I fully took advantage of my new freedom. It took her 2 weeks to make me despise it. And I know, in the furthest recesses of my mind, there is a single synapse sending a very powerful signal to my brain instructing me to wait for her. To save my virginity, and to swallow my pride. That synapse has almost died out. Thank sweet jesus.

I believe in love. To such an extent that I feel it too deeply, and am too resistant towards dismissing it. There are many girls I've met throughout my life that I could easily settle down with and spend the rest of my life with. I am an optimist. And a hopeless romantic. And a highly passionate individual. It just works. The problem that arises, however, is how ridiculously difficult it is for me to define what my ideal mate would be. I really have no clue. I mean, I know what I like about individual girls I've spent time with over the years, but my preferences are constantly changing. Additionally, certain traits are more attractive when possessed only by certain girls. There's also the compatibility factor to take into account. Not the compatibility factor when it comes to me and her, but when it comes to how attractive the combination of her features are overall. But, yeah, I've thought alot about this.

I thought that was my problem for awhile. That I just think too much about it. Whereas most people realize they like someone, have sex with them, and then things progress, I prolong all that because I'm waiting for the "right time." Or maybe because I'm afraid of having my heart stomped on again. Or can't quite manage to get rid of that pesky synapse. Or unable to fight the guilt of "betraying" my first love. Whatever it is, it blows.

- Mikhail Mann

Declaration of Intent

2004-10-03T19:14:00.000-04:00

I believe this blog will work in the following manner:
Every day, when I feel that I am at my most "inspired", I will sit down at my computer and write on a tangent until I feel fulfilled. Afterwards, whatever I have written will be edited and then transferred here in the form of a journal entry.

So, without further adieu, I proudly bring you tangent #1:

John and Mary had a child of 9, the tenth had been removed. The surviving nine had, somehow sensing the loss of their colleague, boosted their individual abilities high above what they once were, prior to the fatal accident that had taken the 10th away from them. It makes me cry. It makes the child cry. It makes John cry.

But, strangely, not Mary. She knows everything happens for a reason. She cherishes the child, despite his affliction. On her behalf, John does the same, but only out of obligation, not due to any genuine love for his son. He knows the town considers him a freak. The child knows that upsets John. Mary knows there's nothing she can do about it.

The child grows up and becomes a man. Mary cries, John is proud. The man meets a woman. They enjoy spending time together. She doesn't care about the missing 10th, nor does she wonder about what happened to it. Basically, she just ignores it. The man notices this. He mentions it to Mary. Mary tells him the truth. John is outraged. The man decides that perhaps the woman isn't for him.

The woman is upset, but not heartbroken. There are other men she can go to. The man, however, feels isolated. He is a slave to something that never should have existed in the first place. He bemoans his fate. Mary tries to console him, John scoffs. The man rejects them both. The man hates the world. Especially the number 10.

He considers removing the rest. Arrangements are made. The man confronts his afflictions head on and...makes a discovery. The man has all 10. And he did all along. Mary divorces John. The man meets another woman. Mary runs into an old friend. The woman admires the man's perfect 10. Mary visits them with her new friend. The man loves the new friend and remembers him as the old friend. Mary and her new friend are married, with all their old friends in attendance.

The woman catches Mary's bouquet with a flourish. Mary becomes a grandmother. The man is successful. The man is happy. The man is passionate. The man is enlightened. Mary is supportive. Mary is loving. Mary is matronly. Mary is optimistic. The man was just what Mary needed. And Mary was that for the man, her child, all along.

- Mikhail Mann

First Entry

2004-10-03T18:35:00.000-04:00

ME IN A NUTSHELL (NO AUSTIN POWERS JOKES PLEASE)

I'm sure most of you reading this already know me. Just in case some of you don't, however, allow me to introduce myself. My real name is Mike Brabant and I was born in Milwaukee Wisconsin on December 7th, 1983. Yes, I turn 21 this year. Yes, I am excited.

I was in boy scouts for a few years in middle school, played baseball from 1st grade and up, was a member of one of the top children's choirs in the midwest for 3 years (until my voice changed and they kicked me out), played alot of RPG's, made many friends, and had some great times with my family during the years leading up to adolescence.

Then, during the summer following my 8th grade year, when I was about to enter into high school, my parents announced we were moving to Florida. It was crazy.

I haven't seen snow since. I want to go sledding, and have the snowball fights I so fondly remember from my childhood once again. Other than that, though, there's not really anything I miss. Supposedly, Milwaukee (my birthplace) is a pretty good place for beer...and cheese...but you can get those anywhere really.

I currently attend Florida State University in Tallahassee. I'm ridiculously into theatre and all similar forms of entertainment; but, more than anything else, I am a writer. A weaver of words. It is my true passion and what I will inevitably spend the rest of my life doing. Not that I have any problem with that...

Anyway, I think that's enough of an intro. More details to follow...