Cat depression.

A heart breaking condition that effects my cat right now. Symptoms consist mainly of sitting in one place for hours on end looking miserable and growling slightly at anyone who approaches. Fair enough; I wouldn't want this done to me either. Maybe if you didn't get in fights with the locals, we wouldn't have to have the vet cut a big hole in your side and give you a plastic collar to stop you from licking it while all the grossness drains out.

Super awesome high speed internet that disconnects and boots you from the game every five minutes.

By request.

It's writing essays while sick. Really boosts the writing skills and all that, and they don't turn out horrible at all. Not at all. I'm predicting a C, but I sure as hell don't want to rewrite it and I'm hoping the incompetence of the other students will make it look better by comparison.

More TF2 instead.

A 9:00 AM, 4 hour math class on Saturday?

HELL YEAH, SIGN ME UP!

I might as well get a bunch of facial piercings and tattoos of bats and demons while I'm at it. I can stand in a dimly lit room along with about seven or eight other people wearing dark clothing and staring at a man hanging by hooks from the ceiling, desperately awaiting my turn. I'll show those wimps just how much tensile strength my skin has.

I predict many mornings waking up and cursing every person who has ever lived. It'll be great.

Conclusion

So in the end, I'm led to believe that my major at the moment isn't terribly important. Very few people I'm in touch with have a clear-cut path to their future profession, so I don't see why I should worry about whether or not I'm going to end up filing papers in a cramped, poorly lit cubicle in the corner of an insurance firm HQ building. School has been largely uninspiring, but I chalk it up to not latching onto a specific interest yet. Everyone has the feeling that if they don't have a crystal clear view of the horizon everything will go horribly awry, so they panic and become business majors in the hope of becoming a regional assistant manager. I would become one of those gray, lifeless people you see slumping around the local K-Mart on a Saturday afternoon and halfheartedly checking something off on a clipboard while the supervisors gather round and suck up as much as possible in the hopes that I'll recommend them for a promotion. I'm less inclined to commit to something useless so soon. All my current classes are at least geared towards my interests, and I imagine that this relatively broad spectrum will narrow at some point in the near future and I'll be left with something more realistic. I'm one year removed from high school, and expecting someone to commit within a year seems forced. I'd rather plow through the mandatory classes right now while keeping a keen eye out for anything that sparkles amongst the monotony. A better alternative to the constant worry that plagues the collective student body on such a regular basis. At the very least, it's a load off my mind for the time being, and will stop me from doing anything hasty that I might regret later. Seacrest out.

Time for endless TF2.

My hard drive is kerfucked. 300 errors fixed so far, but the Seagate maintenance thing is pretty shitty and can only fix 100 at a time. This means that I get to run the diagnostic, wait about 30 minutes for it to get to the broken spot at which point the number of errors goes to 100, fix those, then start over again. Damned if I know how many there actually are.

So whatever, less computer time until I can fix it. Since the number of errors has gone up to about 2000 since yesterday, I just got a 300 GB hard drive from Fry's for $70 and am going to copy everything over to it using Linux. At least the spare time allowed me to get acquainted with Tekken 5 again.

Also, Windows is utterly fucking useless and I'm probably going to lose all of my shit and have to start over from scratch.

This is me without eyes.

Courtesy of g0t.

I recall a time when my aspirations in life consisted mainly of being a professional soccer player and making a billion dollars. I would buy a rocket ship and use it to fly through the stars on my incredible voyage through the universe, stopping occasionally to meet alien civilizations that had cities made of crystal that were powered by magic. Childish imagination things, all cheery and colorful. Exploration and boundless wonder. None of the hatred and bitterness that plagues me now, like a cancer eating away at my brain. A new-age Robin Hood with guns and blood lust was never the initial goal, so what happened along the way? At what point did I lose that optimism and become what I am now? Perhaps it was like the story of the restored historical artifact in the museum. Noah's Ark on display, the planks being replaced as they rot until it's no longer the same boat. My elements of reality were stripped away one by one, the delusions being replaced by something much darker. Rainbows for torture, exploration for war, and all I can do is look around and think about how much more enjoyable things used to be when I wasn't aware of it all.

Perhaps I'm partially to blame for it as well. Biologically I'm not much different than someone like Rudy Giuliani. I could be that fear mongering troglodyte standing up on the podium and telling the world how we should always be afraid of the enemies that I promise to protect them from. The only difference is in ideology, the chemicals stay the same. The same instincts exist, which create similar thought patterns, similar values, similar needs. The only important difference from person to person is that occasionally we come to a branch between thesis and antithesis and decide to go left or right. One person decides to be theistic, the other declines the offer. One is a lawyer, the other a musician. A pathway that begins with one fork, then there's another, and another, until we eventually end up at one of the billion ends. We stroll gallantly down the path since birth, engaging in our respective twists and turns, and constantly looking onwards at the sunset. If we run fast enough, we might finally be able to reach it.

So why, then, is it such a mess? Why are we so inclined to stick to one route and never deviate? One path leads to a green meadow, the other to a black and ominous forest, but we've gone to the right the entire time and wouldn't want to break the routine. All our friends chose the forest, and we wouldn't want to be excluded. The choice between sunshine and total darkness is a complicated one, there's so many factors that weigh in. We've accumulated distractions along the path which blind our reason and make us unable to choose correctly. The path of business has the prospect of money somewhere down the line, and you're willing to ignore the grey for a few years in hopes that it will change to green. Willing to become dull and lifeless, just another wallflower growing in the unnatural soil that's so abundant. Not even questioning what may have happened had you chosen the path that seemed more full of life at the time, since looking back would deny the future. The eyes are locked forward with a hope that's slowly fading.

I prefer the more inviting path. A lot of people seem to be more focused on the long run. The feeling that if they focus on the horizon, they'll have more control over where they end up, and that it will inevitably bring about greater good than those who are more impulsive. The people enjoying life are foolish, even. Thoughtless thrill-seekers. Blinded by the light, with no sense of priority. Uncivilized men and women headed down the road to destruction and not paying attention to the warning shouts from other travelers. Delirious enough that they make a conscious effort to shut out all the death and despair that everyone else is trying to wade through for the sake of a brighter future. The accountant doesn't approve of the reckless youth mentality, she's too busy working out the annual figures.

However, from the viewpoint of that same fool, things are radically different. He's focusing on the future as well, just on a different one than most. While most fix their gaze upon the glowing dollar sign, he looks elsewhere and sees something more faint. Something that requires a bit more hope than the usual goal. A genuine feeling that if he keeps following these appealing paths despite the warnings, it will ultimately end with something more glorious than anything the realistic masses could ever dream of. That the same childish pipe dreams that he thought of as a kid are actually the true path, and that there's no need for compromise. The infantile fantasy is the reality, and it's actually the rest of humanity that is blinded. He looks around at his fellow man staring vacantly into what he sees as the void, and feels concerned. They're headed for a false end, following a series of progressively worse turns in the road that will lead them into the mouth of Hell. It is now his cries of warning that are drowned out and ignored.

It is only now that he sees the true struggle of sadness. His friends and family marching fearfully into oblivion. Along the way they grow tired, miserable, dreading each step but still clinging to that hopeful hopelessness. Already dead, the only remaining factor is time. All those choices that were seen as being beneficial in the long run now come to naught, as the tragedy unfolds before the eyes of the enlightened one. Clinging to life without joy, dreaming only in nightmares. Silenced in the meadow, the cheerful surroundings lose their value once the knowledge of the helpless prehumous becomes readily apparent.

What is to be done then? There must be a way out. Drag everyone kicking and screaming out of the offices and into the field, but they've adopted a difference in opinion during their voyage and won't enjoy it. There will be no point, as they'll return to the previous setting once they're no longer being detained. Separate meanings for enjoyment have been developed over a long period of time, and there's no solution to the problem. They have the big bank account, the fast car, the mansion, the trophy wife, and that's all they will ever need to be happy. You have the art, the music, the poetry, and can feel the touch of God as you focus inwards, and figure this is the true essence of joy. The other kind seems fake, nothing but a construction of man to cope with the inadequacy that is self-created. They should be shown the truth, and it is your duty to do so.

This, I think, is the real cause of struggle. Some place their value on monetary things, others choose to appreciate the more basic pleasures of life. Polar opposites, the golden mean being achieved only on the most rare of occasions. One side is right, and the other side is fundamentally wrong on every imaginable and unimaginable level. The other side needs to be brought to yours for their own good, and it is only by their own whimsical hallucinations that they persist in their acquired manner. The only problem is that both sides look at each other in this same way, and each side is naturally right. Perhaps it should be left to those in a position of absolute neutrality to be the ultimate decision maker. Too bad such a person doesn't exist.

Edit: Upon rereading this, I'm actually satisfied with it.