With A Drunken Heart

I was tempted to write this blog while listening to music, then I realized that I don't write well with music playing.

Since this blog is read by a probable total of about five or six people in my life, I don't mind stating the most obvious and ultimately shameless facts about my life, such as why I'm still awake and still drunk from a night of realizing the motives behind people's actions, donning a snuggie for an obscenely long period of time while meditating on the quad at midnight, and of course, reading the truth that blazes forth from the eyes of everyone I'm around. Always.

If every person in the world were as honest as a squirrel, things would run a little bit more smoothly. Less people would get hurt. And I'm not even saying this in any sort of bitter way. It just finally occurred to me today that the more a person lies to themselves, the more people they eventually end up hurting. What does a lie get you? A false sense of security for a brief moment in time? Maybe a trickle of hope that whatever it was you were trying hide or escape isn't actually affecting you.

The truth is, squirrels will let you know when they're hungry. When they want to mate. When they just want to run in the grass because they like the way it makes them feel. It's absurd to think that a furry little squirrel would ever lie or manipulate a situation in order to accomplish something.

As I sit on my ripped faux leather couch rambling about the intentions of squirrels, doors continue to slam in the halls of Centennial, which, in my opinion, proves that a.) we're all in this together (no HSM reference intended), and b.) we are all inextricably linked to one another and legitimately intrigued by our fellow humans. Which causes us to seek and ask questions.

Sophomore year is beginning to look a lot more philosophical.

Relative News

For the first time in my life, I wrote graffiti on a bathroom stall today.

But more importantly, people are starting to annoy me. I find that it's harder to love people when you see straight through their shit. And I'm not mounting any white horse while I say this, by any means. Believe me. I'm just as trashy... Just as ultimately self-interested... Just as shameless. But the fact still remains that I used to be able to love people blindly and openly. I guess, in all honesty, I still do. At heart, I forgive birth traits and primal natures. Yet, transparency is transparency; cubic zirconias don't glitter as brightly when you take them out of the display case.

In accordance to some fortune cookie law, I should accept the truth of life that all people need to be loved despite their un-goodness. Whether or not they delve into noble endeavors, just sit on their bed and Facebook stalk, or practice a combination of the two, they're still kindred humans to me. Skin and bone and organically driven to produce happiness for themselves. And sometimes, juuuust sometimes... produce it for others.