YOLO: You’re doing it wrong.

The Internet is awesome.

Although this seems like an obvious statement, it’s not something to just gloss over.

It’s important to sit back every once and a while and look at how great we have it. Breaking news is available instantaneously. Porn is easier to find than ecstasy at a Skrillex concert, much to Rick Santorum’s dismay. Distances have become irrelevant, as you can see and hear a friend quicker than you can say “Skype.”

While all this is at our disposal, the generations before us not only had to sit in the dark waiting for day-old news but also had to use their imagination during their “alone time” and haggle with the operator just to talk to their "homie" across the country, if they even owned a phone.

Sadly, the Internet isn’t all sunshine and puppy tails. It’s also given a home to played out and misused abbreviations, the latest offender being “YOLO.”

If you’re not familiar, Drake popularized the abbreviation, which stands for “you only live once,” in his song, “The Motto.” Thanks to Drizzy, trend-chasing young adults are posting it at the end of their tweets or Facebook statuses that are either a. entirely ordinary or b. completely brainless.

“Just napped for two hours. YOLO.”

“I blacked out and woke up in jail. YOLO”

Here’s how I read those:

“You only live once, so I’m going to sleep it away.”

“You only live once, so I’ll make mistakes that might haunt me for the rest of my life.”

The point of “YOLO” isn’t to do a bunch of hood rat stuff and say, “fuck it.”

YOLO shouldn’t be a justification for ignorant behavior, but it’s used for that very reason. A bunch of pothead kids getting high and ditching class is already a problem in itself, so let’s give them a catchphrase to go along with it. That’s a great idea.

If we only live once, the importance of our decisions is heightened, not devalued. I don’t mean to sound like Buzz Killington, because there is definitely a time and place to go out, have fun and act wild. In fact, I quite enjoy those instances. I also realize, however, there are many more pertinent things happening in this world.

Look at the man who coined “YOLO.” He’s recording platinum albums, selling out concerts worldwide, winning awards, meeting his icons, appearing on magazine covers and voicing a character in “Ice Age 4.” To put it bluntly, he’s doing a hell of a lot more than most of us. So when he raps, “You only live once: that’s the motto n****, YOLO,” he can’t possibly be encouraging us to act like asses. He’s telling us to make something of ourselves.

The point of “YOLO” should be to go out and do something meaningful. That doesn’t mean everyone should hold themselves up in the library or go volunteer at the homeless shelter because, let’s face it, that would get boring. It just means that people should prioritize doing something with a lasting value. Go try a new hobby. Go to a foreign country. Go do anything with a longer shelf life than “I just beer-bonged three Four Lokos.”

“Taking surfing lessons. YOLO.”

“Roadtrip around Europe. YOLO.”

Those are appropriate things to do with only one life at your disposal. Even if most of us won’t become one of the biggest names in music, we can still do great things. We don’t have to be average.

The Baby Boomers and early Generation X didn’t grow up with the Internet, they invented it. Let’s not slap them in the face by using their gift to boast about our complacency.

Don't criticize, empathize.

Do we really feel people's pain
or do we think it's what we have to do
fuck that bullshit about caring
its a state of mind
you care when you want to
not because you have
i care bout starving kids
you care about the air
we see what we want do we
so when do we draw the line at right and wrong
if you have something to say don't cover identity
come out and say it
so don't stay something where you gonna end up apologising
stand by your actions to the end
in the face of death soldiers run guns blazing
so why cant you speak with your words
every sentence your ammunition
and when other people talk listen
dont criticize, empathize
i know the truth hurts but it has to be said
enought said and done, not like you will listen
reading this is enough for me

The Fine Art Of Voluntary Stupidity.

Yes, I'm back.

Before I embarked on the self-torture called a BA, I used to wake up everyday and immediately put on the TV to try to find out what was going on in the world around me. This foolish action inevitably led me to turn to CNN, BBCNews or when the weather was really bad or things were very hard, – NTA. And then it would usually begin. Bad news in industrial quantities: The financial crisis, bomb blasts, a plane crash, stories of both government and private corruption, chronicles of fools: some poor fool who has just been blown up in the name of Allah, another fool who is trying to spread freedom and democracy around the world and some more fools who are spouting varying grades of propaganda; ranging from Innocent white lies to premium brand, Class A Bullshit. Generally I would endure 60 minutes of this sensory assault on my intelligence before giving up and turning toward MTV or one of the Series/Movie channels for some mind-numbing, meaningless drivel to help me try to forget the mental torture I’ve just been subjected to.

Unfortunately, this usually didn’t help much since all the music and shows are laced with hidden intentions telling me what to think and how to think it. Young girls wearing next to nothing shake their bodies in ways that would be of concern to medical professionals with the message ‘sex is good’ while 50cents latest song is telling me ‘to get rich or die trying’. Beyonce is subconsciously trying to make your girlfriend leave you with her ‘Put a ring on it’ nonsense, Bruno mars is looking for trouble by singing about catching grenades (Who the hell would do that anyway? Pls refer to @CapoeiraPandas blog for more details on this…) and some bloody Nigerian is asking me to ‘Dapada’ and/or ‘farabale’; ‘groove utunu’ and or 4kasibe’. The TV shows are not much better, every episode presents some half-baked, hashed out ideology which it tries to sell to me as a life philosophy. Examples: all problems can be solved in an 30 minutes or an hour, Bad guys always get caught, follow your dreams, Obey your parents, Sex sells, Ok, don’t always obey your parents, humour is good, gays are not so bad, Always consult your pastor for advice, Blah, Blah, Blah… Usually, there would be only so much my brain could take before I call my friend –Mr. Remote control and finally help the environment by switching off the appliances I’m not using.

Unfortunately, with all outside influence gone, my mind would inward and begin to think (a process which I’ve been told is quite high risk, and should be attempted only by trained professinals) . But it is the result of this thinking which led me to write this note to my victi…er..erm…i mean friends and followers; lamenting the state of this world we live in and the nation we call home. Why is everything so confusing? Why is the world so disorderly? Why would some fools blow up innocent people for no good reason? Why would Jim Iyke try to rap? These are genereally the kind of thought i would think at these times. Luckily, while writing this post I came upon a revelation, it was like a vision (well more like a hallucination caused by excessive exposure to differential calculus… but whatever….) but it made clear what must be done to navigate this morally twisted world without overheating your brain engine. It is called VOLUNTARY STUPIDITY.

You see, I read once in a book (okay, fine, it wasn’t a real book, it was a comic but who wants to split hairs right now?) that comedians are the saddest people in the world. They see what’s wrong with the world but when they stand-up and try to tell the rest of us we just laugh at them. This is an example of the universal law: “It’s not smart to be too smart” as Illustrated by the lives of Galileo and Leonardo da Vinci. You see, i think stupidity is good for you, as long as you don’t exceed the prescribed dosage. And if you are asking yourself right now: “Pray tell, o wise one, how do I obtain a prescription for the stupidity I so desperately need”, then don’t worry, I have the answer, just read on….

Voluntary stupidity is the fine art of ignoring things that are real but make you feel unhappy or depressed. It is my analogy of the old concept that is referred to by the esteemed Buddhist monks as the ‘if-we-ignore-it-then-it-will-go-away’ philosophy. Just as faith is defined as the “belief in things not seen”, voluntary stupidity is the “disbelief of things seen, heard, experienced and even known.” If practiced well, it can increase your level of happiness exponentially within a few seconds. I have been accused of the horrendous and evil crime of ‘being too smart’ more than once in my life and having repented from this crime i can attest to the efficacy of this method.

On a serious note however, we do this every day. We overlook things like our friends’ bad habits, the religion of others which we don’t believe, the fact that we are not as rich or happy as we want to be, the parts of the bible and the constitution that we don’t like, etc. It is a self defense mechanism to protect our fragile psyches from the trauma of unfulfilled dreams, failures, limitations and things we cannot understand or do anything about.

So the next time some smug, self-righteous, smarty-pants starts talking about the war in Iraq, Who is sponsoring the bombing in the Nigeria, the environment and global warming, traffic situations, the plight of democracy, ASUU strikes or the appalling Suckiness of the new Black Eyed Peas album, just remember, he will die a sad, depressed old fart while you relish in your self-built, sky-castle of blissful ignorance, surrounded the lovely aura of VOLUNTARY STUPIDITY.

Thank me later,
Smiles and Love.

So then.

I'm worried that everything will be okay. It constantly haunts me, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, where I can pretend that the dust has begun to build only because it's no longer of any use. I've come out of my depression, battered and evolved, but it's gone. I've settled into your average post-adolescent despondence; the worry of a relapse has long died. But what now? What happens? Am I to remain at this plateau indefinitely? I'm worried that I'll be okay, but not in the way that I want to be. Just that - okay. Nothing more, nothing extraordinary, no trembling nerves, no humming blood, mere complacence. I comforted myself with the prospect of eternal misery, but at least that had a fire. At least with that, I knew, or thought, I had a chance of somehow, someday changing that blaze from a harrowing blue to a glorious red. but I don't know what I can do with indifference. I don't know if I can function on it, on the remains of coal - worthless, feathery ash.

You see, before, I had an excuse. My tantrums were, if not verified, accepted. it was a battle, and in a battle, you release your claws. You fight dirty. You kick and you scream. Hey, throw a punch in if you want, too. But when you lose.. when you give it everything you've got and you lose, starting it up again is just you holding onto a dead, false prospect. It's you refusing to accept reality. It's your juvenile denial of defeat.

So what do you do now? Do you press on? Do you live within the restrictions of this new regime? Do you self-impose exile? banishment?

Really. Forget the self-soliloquies. Forget pointless words. What happens now?

Twenty?!

I am no longer a teenager. Shocking that I discover this somewhat-well into my 20's right? But it has really hit me recently.
Did you know I am older than Kristen Stewart, Jason Derulo, and all but one of the girls on America's Next Top Model. Yes. Did you know that the UN's definition of youth is '15-24' I'm ALMOST NOT EVEN A YOUTH ANYMORE. F MY LIFE. WHAT SHOULD I DO!?
Somatic growth stops as 18.
Myelination happens the most during teenage years, so I will never get any smarter than I am now.
LIKE THATS IT. I am old. As in opportunity is NOT knocking anymore. As in I have one more egg left. As in grey hair and all that shmaz. As in scratch that epitaph into my tombstone.
Eff my life.
Anyways, that was my 'aha' moment on why I haven't been able to write anything. I over-romanticized every aspect of my life, abused the adjectives and the melodramatics to my heart's content, and now I am free- and depressed enough- to move onto my adult life. So I really should bid you all adieu, at least until I figure out what adult means. Maybe I'll be back in 10 minutes, maybe 10 days, maybe 10 months, maybe a decade. But seriously, I am lost now about everything.

From a straight road to a swerve.

My mind is bleeding with the realization of its captivity. It's inability to run free, to experience, to live like they do on silver screens, is haunting my every decision. Ignorance comes in many forms, the kindest of his masks, is the one that's always with me. My mind is blind to the most horribly annoying of things, and that is of a sub-conscience choice. An invited and welcomed ignorance if you will.

I have this closet in my head where I push away the unchangeable ways of politics, man, and religion. The things I have to accept, but that don't really make it through my senses are usually found in this closet. Imagine a Narnia type wardrobe. It's pretty and in a room by its lonesome. You see, that's how my closet looks like, pretty and alone, away from human parasites. Sometimes, I open this closet, and I weep. My closet is a horrible place. As soon as I close it I accept the ugly ways of life, but in those brief moments that it's open everything is unacceptable, there is no excuse. I will make a difference someday. No matter how small or insignificant, I'll make it.

Future, on your knees, man. We are coming, through the closets, all of us.

Ponderings.

We judge to cover up our own insecurities
I can see right through your words
Beyond the superficial and straight to your fears
So intangible yet so visible
Those walls are useless against these eyes
Because i refuse to judge
So i became perhaps not pure like white
But crystal clear

We smile about the past when we are seeking escape from the present
We smile about the future when we believe in the present
We smile about the present when the rest is forgotten
There is no past present or future
The past is gone
The present is past
The future is present

True emotional joy becomes physical
Happiness comes and a smile is formed
Hate comes and a war is begun
The world appears only in the way we choose to view it
It can be the world of love or the world of hate
Or it can be grey
Grey skies, grey days, grey nights
Money may not be everything
But at least you can afford to add some colour to your life

Life doesn’t make sense
That is the only way for it to make sense
There is no logical explanation for everything
The sooner this is realised the better
Someone once said,” My concern is not that you have failed
But rather whether you are content with your failure”
But what happens when you become satisfied with failure?
When that which you most feared becomes your only companion?
Will failure treat you right?

The representative from Jingle Town has the floor...

To paraphrase the great Jane Lynch, I’m nothing if not falsely arrogant. My mind is a wonderful place, and I tend to brag about that little aspect of my personality a bit too much- or some would say. Actually, those people are lying; I never brag, I just state the obvious. Is it my fault that I have been simultaneously cursed and blessed with a superior mind? No, so let’s continue.

But behind that air of confidence; that public façade, the veil-if you will, lies as always, an insecure little girl. Well, not little, but that’s a story for another day. Scratch that, I’ll never tell you that story. As a matter of fact, as we speak, I’m locking it away in a chest and hiding it in a scary attic. Anyway, that’s not really news to anyone. We all have our little fears and inhibitions, don’t we? We are a generation of broken people because we were allowed to speak. Because however insignificant, we had a voice. In retrospect, it seems as though that in an effort to silence said voice, it was answered with wishes of hope and promises of happiness and dreams being lived in the face of social adversity with belief as our only weapon and having faith in one’s self as a cigarette in your pocket.

But you see, my beliefs have made a pessimist out of me. Did I set the bar too high? Did I not get the memo? Because, apparently, me and a handful of people are living the lies of a promise, given to us by the people we thought wanted the world for us. But as it goes, the English dictionary needs an update on certain definitions, because by today’s standard, a promise is nothing but a blatant lie.

Moral of the story: I can fake anything I want to, from ambition to potential, because at the end of the day, nobody will ever get a chance to see it all play out. So by all means, smother me in promises and I'll shower you with, what's that you call it? Oh yeah- teenage angst.

The teenage years, let's hope.

The closer I get to the possibility, the further away the reality seems. I try to run, but people are holding me back. I try to break free, but the bruises on my arm tell the story of how that goes. No matter what I do, I'll always know that I'm wasting my life, my youth. I could have done, seen, and learned more. I could have been frowning less, and smiling more. I could have loved instead of hated. Happy could have been my default emotion as opposed to a rare occurrence. I know that I'll always look back and pity myself. Though, I do hope I know better when I leave adolescence and youth behind and brace a day where all this angst and hate goes away. I really do wish that, twenty years from now, I look back at this ol' blog of mine and see the words of an immature brat and not the truth.

Current State.

HAPPY NEW YEAR Blogsville!

I completely lost track of my blog, no surpise there.
Optimism is on vacation, and I'm fretfully awaiting his return. He promised he would write. He does. But not enough. Cynicism took it upon himself to operate in his stead barking out orders he never would have gotten away with previously. He's got everyone on a Melancholy Diet. Though they slip out of his vigilant eye occasionally, he makes sure they report to the ICU and are administered The Drug intravenously. His buddy Pessimism has returned from back east choking everyone with the foreign stench of his cigarettes. The halls are consequently dark and grey requiring gas masks to get through.
Hope sleeps twentythree hours a day. Ambition is bored and unmotivated scratching his new belly while he flips through unstimulating TV channels. Attempting to get an ounce of the tonne of work piled up on it's table.

How high can a broken man cry.

I'm tired of making the best of what I have. I hate that I have a privileged life that people can use against me. I'm tired of feeling guilty about how and what I feel and having to justify it every goddamn second . I am physically sick in every literal sense of the word in seeing broken pieces of good people lying around the floor; constantly subjected to the feet of the ignorant, and for what? To further prove their superiority? Hey! We broke you. Now, we're gonna smother what's left of you into dust. We're gonna reduce your existence into nothing but specks of nothing to permeate the air for young dreamers. As if to say, this is what will become of you. This is a warning. But being the optimists that they are, that we were, they smell potential. They don't cough, they inhale. All that whiff of ambition was nothing but hope masked as a threat. The tragedy of reality disguised as a sweet scent of possibility. We were just cursed with seeing the good in things.

Is it wrong that I want something different? Not better, just different. From where I am sitting, it feels like a crime. They tell me I'm not thankful. They say that I'm selfish. The world doesn't revolve around you. Well let me tell you something, MY WORLD DOES. I'm allowed to want things that you don't approve of. I am entitled to my emotions as much as you are to your beliefs, to your logic, to whatever the fuck is in that sorry excuse of a skull.

One day all that dust is gonna gather and suffocate all that's left of the world; all who let their feet follow an empty voice, not bothering to look down at the broken pieces of hope they were stepping on.

edited for sarah k.

f men. f them to the hell they came from.

f society for setting all these rules: he opens the door. he proposes. he pays. he's macho. he's your hero. false... he's a douche. that's what he f-ing is. these rules just reduce women to waiting, hopeful idiots. you wait, and primp and wait and primp and wait. you wait for the one. then you wait for the one that opens doors, that gets on his knees, that proposes, that sweeps you off your feet and melts your heart with a smile- you start to think, if i were just skinnier, if my hair lay just so, if my skin glittered like butter, if my eyes shone like the moon, if i ran longer on the treadmill, if i fit a size 2, if i withstand the pain of the heels. if i look at him at the right moment, if i bat my lashes. if i grow my lashes. if i smiled, if i read and laughed and was the most entertaining in the room, he will come. and you wait just like that.

but you'll wait forever. because statistics, good old mathematics is not on your side. the percentage of men who fit the expectations pumped into us by society, is in fact very small. in my mind it is 0.3%.

mr. darcy doesn't exist.

and you know why? because miss austen, poor, old jaded miss austen is another me. she is a dreamer, someone who doesn't find love and then imagines the best kind, and then makes it into a person- this one man who encompasses all good in the world. in my case, it was sirius black. if austen had truly fallen in love, her stories would have taken a different turn, probably to the likes of a heathcliff and catherine story.

lesson: the heroine and the rich, smart, fedora wearing, cigarette smoking, cool-line spouting man never get together in reality.

and so, to all of you. i bid you a bad evening and a head full of nightmares.

Stop telephonin' me

When will it get through your thick head that I will not answer your phone calls. I don't know who you are. I don't know your name. I don't know what you look like. I don't even know how your voice sounds. You equally don't know any of these things about me. Stop professing your love for me. Stop sending me sweet nothings in the middle of the night. Stop calling me twentyfive times a day. Get it through that empty maze of a mind that I am not one of those girls. I wouldn't even call them easy or pathetic or bored. If anything, I'd call them mindless. The fact that you're willing to subject yourself to such horrid company disgusts me. The fact that you're trying to drag me down to your level makes me want to projectile vomit onto your face. I didn't answer the first eighthundredthirtyfour times you called, I won't answer now. Stop telling me that my voice sounds like velvet; I know it doesn't, not when I've only spoken to you in contempt or in a manner of interrogation. Stop sending me off into dreamland with little ~eloquently worded messages. They're cloying at best and harrowing at worst. Just stop. The fact that you're degrading yourself in such a manner makes it impossible for me to ever acquire a scintilla of respect for you.

The title: yeah, I went there.

I hate my life.

Truer words were never spoken.

I say this without a sarcastic or sappy undertone. I am being honest and open with you. I abhor everything and everyone who I don't genuinely like. I cannot stand it anymore. If you look closely you could see the hate etched on my face. I wish I was lying. For the love of anything good and true, I wish I was exaggerating. I cannot wait for the day where I am swept of my feet away from this wretched place. I just hope this day comes before my hate scars me for good. Having hope is too tiring, folks, and I'm tired of it. So, I've decided to throw mine in the trash, it hasn't done me any good lately or ever. I will live like a zombie out of a grave. I will cope till my heart stops.

This is not teenager depression ranting. I know where my life is headed, it's like everyone else around here. So don't you say, it'll get better, because it won't. I'll just hide it somewhere till it combusts one day and kills me.

Fml.

x

Friends, Foes? Love, Lust?

So funny story.
I was told today that I don't practise what I preach.
True story, haha.
No but for real, about a 3 months ago tharindu and clementine asked me how I pro advise but my own "love life" as we like to call it, runs down the sewage.
At the time, I honestly didn't have an answer.
I knew its obviously cause I just didnt follow the shit I tell all you people, now I realize though its because in any relationship, power lies in the hand of the person who cares less (that's a quote I stole by the way).
I never had the upper hand. It was always me bending over for him. Me breaking my rules.
I guess love makes you stupid like that.
We all know what we SHOULD do, what is RIGHT, how we SHOULD BE TREATED, what we DESERVE, we just choose not to, in fear we might loose our "better half".
So we insist on being puppets.
That's just the way it is.
We can't help it.
Yes finally, revelation hits! Lol .Oh well.

I find it hard to swallow that strangers make me happier than friends
The minute you let someone into your life
Like a hurricane they destroy and conquer
Its not too much to ask for love unconditionally
But thats only for family not friends apparently
Now I know there are bigots thinking ''maybe you have the wrong friends''
Sadly friendship has got to a point where getting hurt is a norm
And if you dont feel that hurt then you have a stranger in your life
Which might not be so bad if you are also a stranger to them
Telling eachother nice words in passing

A friend as described by the english
is a person who you trust and care about
not someone you just say hi too or have drinks with
not your sex partner or your drug dealer
the paradigm of humanity is in its need to put on a facade

so much goes down the gutters in the souls of people
oh let me say what i want because its who i am, i am blunt
no you moron you are self centered and will never find real happiness
acting like a player, douche and slut is not the way to never get hurt
its the way to cause pain in the life of others
and when they express their dismay dont call them ''dramatic'' or ''emotional'
'because you flushed your emotions away in the dark abyss of your life
doesnt mean I want to be sucked in with you
do what I want because I dont owe you an explanation
its different if you tell me what I do wrong
but seating on a horse and expecting me to read minds
after you blatantly formulate a plan to rid me from your life
because I decided to ''care'' a little more than you

BURN in the HELL of your greed
Chained to the crutches of your insecurity
Remember. What goes around comes back around

loves,
x