Tag Archives: conversations

Conversations with Myself During the Blackout.

Distorted Moon-CB

It just so happened that my room-mate (a.k.a. my mother) was out-of-town when the blackout hit; I was left alone to my own devices. Well, I wasn’t completely alone though, I had Suki and Zoey to hang out with (my dogs). However, they are not much for conversation; so like always, I had to amuse myself for a while. So I sat on my sticky hot leather couch with a wet towel smothered across my body to defend against the stale heat trapped in the house; having multiple conversations with myself. I found out that I am pretty interesting to talk to.

The following are conservations I had with myself during the San Diego blackout on September 8, 2011:

1. I’m a bad Californian due to the fact that we are prone to earthquakes, I should probably have a stockpile of emergency supplies inside my garage for earthquakes and events like this. But I don’t.  That’s embarrassing. (Then I immediately made a list of supplies I would need: 3 days worth of water, peanut butter, batteries, blankets, generator, small solar-powered radio, first aid kit, flash lights, a gun, and more peanut butter).

2. Can this secretly be the Apocalypse please? You may think I have serious problems, but I know I am not alone out there when I say that there are a lot of people who romanticize and fantasize about the end of the world happening, or a catastrophic event occurring; forcing the human race to start all over again. Call me crazy but I get secretly excited on the prospect of abandoning this delusional existence as we know it– having to live off the land and hunt and kill to survive; living at the mercy nature. Simply living in the hands of the universe. This blackout reminded me again that all the modern-day comforts of air conditioning, power, clean drinking water; are just all that; comforts that act as illusions and buffers from reality–they give us a false sense of security when at any moment we could be wiped out completely–the reality is that we are living on that threshold everyday.

3. Seriously, how did people live like this before? Since I couldn’t find the flashlights, I had to light every candle I could find in the house, walking around with it if I had to move to another room. It was fun for the first five minutes, but when I actually had to go look for something by candle light it became very inconvenient and I ended up spilling candle wax everywhere. Now I understand why before electricity, everyone went straight to bed when it got dark; because you can’t get s*** done by candle light! Luckily, my iPad was charged at 50 percent, so I played Angry Birds for about an hour….

4. Hey! Screw these candles, I can use the solar-powered walkway lights in the front and backyard for light! Gee, I’m such a smarty…So I brought in a few solar-powered garden lights and strategically place them inside my house. They lights did not exude too much light, but just enough to light up the hallways so I wouldn’t eat it trying to get to the bathroom during the night.

5. I hope no one tries to steal the remaining solar power lights left in my front yard. Who knows? If this power outage lasts a few more days or weeks, my solar lights may become a coveted item….

6. Which one of my dogs would I eat first if I ran out of food? Yes, there is no arguing that this is a morbid thought, but it could easily become a serious dilemma. Hmm, Suki is all muscle, and Zoey is fatter– so perhaps tastier–but I enjoy Zoey’s company more; but then again, Suki is a good watchdog…decisions decisions.

…Those were just some of the more prominent conversations going through my head that night, trust me, there were a lot more…

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“What Does Your Life Mean?”

Why do we constantly seek meaning in our lives?

Why do we constantly seek meaning in our lives?

What an ambiguous question.

Why are you asking me this question? Who are you anyway? Why should you care? These were all questions that started to spark in my mind as I came back to reality and realized that I was two minutes deep into an undeveloped conversation with Becca, who apparently was a member of the university’s Christian club.

Just two minutes earlier I was enjoying my  kindergarden like sack lunch of cupped fruit, peanut butter crackers, and  apple juice box to top it off, while contemplating the future headache I was about to endure in my existentialism philosophy class. As I was pondering the significance of Nietzsche’s argument for humanities cultural collapse through the Death of God, I was interrupted by Becca, who looked like she just stepped straight out from an evangelical square dance.

Becca sat down on the rocky bench next to me and politely asked me my name. Instinctively I knew that she wanted something from me, just by the awkward way she approached me, sitting down next to with a concerned but comforting look on her face.

Should I give her a fake name or a real name? I thought to myself, ah heck, I’ll be nice today; so I introduced myself back to her, intrigued and annoyed simultaneously.

She told me about the Christian club, and I sheepishly told her that I am agnostic at the moment and am not really interested in joining the club at this time. I thought she would leave me alone after being disappointed with my answer, however she persisted in asking me, “What do I believe in?” and “how were you raised, religiously speaking?”

I was over this conversation, not because I was angry at Becca trying to persuade me to join her cause, but I was just sick in general of thinking about these questions in the first place because it just seems so pointless. Granted, my existentialism class probably has been rubbing off on me, but I am honestly sick of looking at myself as some divine being with a “purpose,”or that I was put on this earth to conquer something “remarkable.”All I want is to be apart of this world as a sea otter or dandelion is a part of this world. I just want to be. No expectations. No sameness; just a dynamic serious of actions which no real meaning is based upon.

Don’t mistake me for an apathetic, because that is not at all what I am implying, but rather just to be comfortable and content in realizing  that I am here, now, and that is all that matters.

And finally, to answer Becca’s last question before she exited our odd but short conversation, she asked me, “what does your life mean?” I thought about it for a moment, hesitated, and then responded that I do not really want to assign meaning to my life because now, I do not feel the need to, I’m here, what else is there?

Maybe Nietzsche is temporarily clouding my sanity, or maybe for the first time I am just comfortable and actually humbled by the thought that, essentially, life is just a serious of action with no purpose, meaning, or intention.

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Say Something, Anything

English 247, SDCC, Spring 2013

The Spirit of a Writer

A writer perservers. A Writer endures. A Writer writes because they must

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A unique collaboration of different perspectives on mental health and life

HarsH ReaLiTy

My goal with this blog is to offend everyone in the world at least once with my words… so no one has a reason to have a heightened sense of themselves. We are all ignorant, we are all found wanting, we are all bad people sometimes.

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