Greg's Blog: Blog 2

I haven't written in a while here, but all for good reason. I've been super busy. Ever feel like an important person because there are so many people that need you? That's how I've felt these last few weeks…just in a really bad way. My brother Kai is really sick in the hospital. Not one, but two of his kidneys are failing. It's not because he drank or anything, but for other reasons entirely. I'm just really worried about him, because there are hardly any donors out there who match up with him. My other brother matches, but no one can actually find him, or get a hold of him. My father would be the next one in line to give a kidney, but he only has one functioning due to his hard partying days in college. He keeps on beating himself up over it, and it's really taking a toll on him.

Besides that, I have a friend…kinda…and she's crazy. She keeps on going on about the stars, how they predict everything, and about how there will be something large to impact my life. She swears he can predict the future, but I notice her making generalizations instead. I started talking to her because I felt bad for her. She sat alone at lunch at a table for a week straight. I thought that maybe her friends were absent, or maybe they just weren't there for the day, but after the week, I could see that she had no friends. She didn't seem like the kind of person to not make friends or anything…she was beautiful. Since we sat down at tables that were right near each other, I would notice that she would laugh at jokes that I had made to my other friend Seth. She was listening in a lot, and I kind of like the fact that she did. She was like the friend that I didn't really talk to yet, and then friend I didn't quite know I had…or, better yet, the neglected third Olsen twin.

The next day, Seth was absent…she wasn't. I could hardly stare at her in her eyes, they were so beautiful and deep. Her brown hair was perfect, her blue eyes were perfect, everything about her was perfect. I was so awkward that day. I just talked about things that made hardly any sense, and was just so taken back that I had a friend this hot! It was a really weird day for me…then she asked if she could come over. I said no.

The next day, she asked again. This time, I said yes…as long as she called though. Well, usually after school, I end up sleeping for around three hours. I sleep well with…well…girly music. It just puts me to sleep. I heard a knock at the door, it was her…Sheana…she didn't call. I heard a knock at my room's door, then she came in on me sleeping. Half awake, I went to turn down the girly music, then just kind of basked. It was really surreal. I had a hot girl in my room who just came over to see me. She sat down on my chair, looked at my T.V., then said "damn that's a huge T.V."
"Well, big T.V. is just another penis metaphor"…holy shit…did I just say that? Luckily, she laughed, then we talked a lot about life, religion, politics, and even video games. It ended up with her going home at around ten-o-clock. It was really nice. Well, I'm tired now, and going to sleep; got to visit my brother tomorrow in the morning.

GREGS BLOG: 1

So, this is the first day I'm actually staring a blog. It's weird because I always made fun of people that write blogs, and yet here I am writing one…weird.

So, I guess the reason why I started this blog is because, like most bloggers, I've got a lot of energy and nothing to do with it…and no friends to share it with. Kidding, I've got friends, but they're always busy and stuff. They either have jobs to get up to super early for, or are always busy. I rarely get together with them, about once every two weeks.

One of the other reasons why I've started is because I'm kinda alone right now, and loving it. I rarely get time alone. I have two brothers and two sisters that are either in my house, or visit, so time alone is rare; but once I get it, I relish it. So far, I've masturbated and come three times, I swear I've rubbed myself raw. I'm bored now, and sore...

My older brothers Kai and Wes are out of the house now, but unfortunately, my two sisters, Kat and Erin aren't. My parents are divorced, and I live with my Mother. So, it's kind of weird being in a house full of women, mainly because when one of them is off of their periods, another one starts. Lately though, it has been weird. I read this one study that says that women do sometimes menstruate in synch. This being said, every full moon now, I notice extra fits of cattiness. Past that, I've come one ball short of accusing them of all being in synch. I'm afraid that the day I do point that out, they will all go ape shit on me, gang up on me, then later, reconvene behind my back and realize, 'hey, we are all on our periods'. Either way, it's a recipe for disaster. To confirm my suspicions, I've been noticing that the tampons don't really go down in supply…ever…until the full moon comes. That scares the living crap out of me now. It's like the whole story about the werewolf. I can't help but think that the three of them (my sisters and my Mom) are the wolves and I'm the scared little rabbit with a locked door with his bushy tail between his legs.

Other than rampant masturbation, not much going on here…

_- Greg

Peter

Nothing. No evidence of foul play, and not a single trace of anything that could have killed him off earlier. It was just the heart attack. It wasn't enough that I had Michael's body dug up out of his own grave, but I also ended up embarrassing myself in the process. Susan was extremely forgiving of the situation, but I wasn't of myself. I felt like shit. But besides that, things were coming together. Full circle as they might say, even though I screwed up, I think it comforted Christine to see Michael once again. She kept on whispering under her breath that she was free. Something about living her life over again, I think she felt like she was his prisoner for a while. After the days we had spent together, we began to get closer and closer. We were seeing each other now. .
Through Michael's will, we found out that Rianne, Tina, and Jason all inherited part of the company. Tina wanted nothing to do with it, so she sold her shares to Rianne. Jason was also indifferent, but instead of selling his shares, he chose to keep them. I think he was still a little emotional about the whole thing. Whenever I ask him about any of it to see how he's doing, he just tells me to "fuck off, it's over." I don't think it's very nice of him, but I can't change how he is.
Bree was returned to her boyfriend Lawrence, but then she quickly ran away again. She left a note for Jason saying that she was the only one he could trust with the information she had. It turns out that she claimed Lawrence was beating her. Jason didn't believe any of it, so he tossed the letter out.
Before Joseph left, I know that him and Jason had a long conversation. When I asked him about it, Jason shrugged as is he never knew the conversation took place, then went and told Susan about it. She told me that he offered his brother his number, a place to stay should he ever come down, and an explanation about how life was earlier with his father. With that, Joseph was out of their lives, but not for good. A little after that, Jason saw a grief counselor. We all knew it was bound to happen one time or another, and the reason for that was that we all knew, despite his earlier reservations, Jason had to talk with someone about this. He had to break down in front of a stranger, never a member of his family who he thought looked up to him as the strong man in the family. It was really difficult for him, or at least that's what I hear.
As for me? I'm just happy that this all came through. The last thing I wanted was my best friend's ex-wife miserable, and an unhappy son. Susan and I haven't gone public with our relationship yet. We want to wait until the right time to do it. We're thinking that Thanksgiving is the right time. It's in three weeks, and we all want to celebrate what we're thankful for…we're thankful for each other. So is it all over? Absolutely not! This is the beginning of something beautiful. In death, new life can be found, and through new life, restoration of the soul, and through restoration of the soul, resolution.

Joseph

I was so nervous when I got into town. My heart raced more and more at the though of meeting my brothers and sisters. A huge part of me just wanted to turn back, and catch another plane out of here. It wasn't the fact that I was meeting my brothers and sisters that made me nervous, it was the fact that I would be meeting him without any support behind me. My Mom didn't want to come with me, because she said it would be too emotional. There was also the fact that I came after my sperm doner of a father had just passed. I think that alone made the trip one of the most awkward ones of my life. With all of those feelings in the way, I still had the nerve to go rent a car and pursue them.
I went to the address listed on my post-it note to where my brother lived, and I knocked three times. No answer. I knocked for at least five minutes, and still no answer. I decided to leave for a while, and get something to eat. There was this place called Rhed's Diner that looked somewhat intriguing so I went in. Inside, there was a man passing out flyers for a missing woman. One of them was flat on the table, and on the flyer it had a full description of her. Her name was Bree and she had long blonde hair and blue eyes. When he came and asked me about her, I told him I was new in town and didn't know anything about it. He seemed really worried. He sat down for a cup of coffee, and told me his name was Lawrence. His girlfriend Bree had just skipped town, and he suspected that it was because of the recent death of a family member. He was flustered, because she had been gone for over a week. "Are you sure that she's not just going out for a while", I asked. But he told me no, and that she was known for pulling this kind of off-the-wall stuff.
He packed his flyers into his backpack, and just sped off. He seemed like a nice guy. I went back to my rental car and looked at the time. It was 3:30. I thought maybe my brother might be inside now. I went to go check again, and nothing. I didn't have any other addresses, numbers, or contacts that could tell me how to get them. All I had was an address. As I was getting into my car I saw someone pull into the driveway. It was a seemingly mature woman, and her acquaintance by the looks of it. I saw that they were going to the door, and I snuck up on them. "Um…I don't think he's here right now."
"And what makes you say that", the mature woman replied back.
"I went and knocked earlier…he wasn't there".
"Maybe that's because you didn't knock hard enough".
"I knocked pretty hard mam, but if you want I can do it again".
"No need, I'll knock for you". And with that, she got her cell phone out, and started to make a call.
"Jason, I'm outside of your door, and so is Peter and some other man I don't know yet". And just like that, he opened the door. She smiled at me and told me that that was the only knock he responds to, his cell. She introduced herself as Susan, and I told her my name was Joseph. It was odd. As soon as she knew my name she looked at my face a little closer. Her eyes retracted themselves from my face as she went inside with her male friend who had been whispering things to her the whole time. One of the things I heard him whisper was "just go with it". Go with what? Who was this woman who was so afraid of me? I decided to just let it go for the time being, then maybe ask her about it later when I got to know her a little better. Both the woman and her friend came into the door, but when I tried to come in, Jason stopped me.
"Hold on", he said. I waited for a little bit until he got a picture from his kitchen counter. "So, you're Joe?"
"Yeah, I told you I was coming in the letter I sent you…it should have gotten to you a couple of days ago."
"And that's all I had to prepare for you coming over. You picked a hell of a time to visit too."
"I think I picked a really good time to visit. My only regret is that I didn't come sooner."
"And why didn't you come sooner?"
"My Mom…she didn't want me coming over here, but when my father died, she suggested that I meet the rest of my extended family so I can at least spend a little bit of time with you guys."
"You think we're family now?" Jason said.
"Jason, stop that!" the woman said.
"No, I won't stop. Out of all the times that he could have tracked us down, and out of all the opportunities that he had to come over here, he never took any of them."
"Well he never had anyway of getting over here Jason!" The woman shouted.
"Bullshit. Do you remember Claudia Mom? She told me that she had offered him on not one, but three occasions to come over here. Not once did you take any of them. Why now?"
"Jason, stop that! Bottom line, he's here now. It may be too late to see his father, but at least he can still see the rest of his family."
"Family? We're his family all of a sudden? What the hell has family meant to you this whole time Mom? I thought that family was supposed to be the people around us that we love and care for. I didn't know that family consisted of strangers that shared the same bloodline, because of a drunken one-night fuck." At that moment, the woman who I now knew was his mother arose from her chair and slapped him.
"Never in my life did I raise you to talk, act, or think that way. This man standing right here is your brother. Nothing is going to change that. Not your smart ass rants, your idiotic tirades, and sure as hell not your sense of reasoning." With that, the woman grabbed me by my arm. "Let's go now honey. I think I've heard about enough of this. Peter, start the car please." And with that, we left. When we got into the car she introduced herself as Susan and was quick to point out that first and foremost, she felt no feelings of hostility against me. What happened was in the past, and she felt as though Jason was just reacting to a lot of the stress in his life that just happened to explode when I got there. She invited me to dinner, and I accepted. The rest of the night was spent talking to her and Peter about how my father was, and how he was generally known. They said he was a nice man, and how he had this quick wit about him. He was smart, sometimes manipulative, and he could sometimes lose his temper and forget what was coming out of his mouth. He also owned his own business. He was the proud owner of a company that sold weather-proof computers that could stand up to almost anything, even fire! It was a surreal feeling. The one person I wanted to avoid while I was here ended up being one of the biggest comforts to me that I would ever know. She told me in the end that she would talk to Jason, then see how he was feeling in the morning. On that note, I ended up asking her if there was anywhere I could sleep. She asked Peter, as it was his house that she had been staying at for the past week. He guided me to a couch that doubled as a bed, and set up a whole load of blankets for me. I was pretty anxious about how the morning was going to be like. Would I get to meet my brother again? What if it was too late? Did he not want to meet me? I would have to wait until the morning to find out.

Bree

I hate funerals. Hate them, hate them, hate them. The whole time I was there, the only thing I could think of was the fact that Michael wouldn't get to do a whole lot of things that he used to do. A few hours before the funeral I went to the 'Rhed' diner, and thought to myself…Michael…he'll never go to this diner ever again. A new comic book movie came out, and I saw the ad in the papers for it. Michael…he would never get to see that movie. And then it hit me. Life went on. Life would go on without Michael, and time didn't stop when he died. It just went on. And when I got to the funeral, the only thing I could think of was how much pain his kids were in; how much I wanted to console each and every one of them. It was horrible. I'm really sensitive to other's emotions, so when I saw everyone's reaction, and then thought about all of those other things, I hated myself. I wasn't only crying for myself, I was crying for everyone else. Jason, who had not one tear on his face…I felt as though I carried part of the burden for him. I saw everyone looking at me, they thought I was making a scene. It's a funeral, everyone should be making one…at least that's what I thought.
I went back home after a while, and took my coat off. It was an odd sensation. I noticed how the inside of my jacket rubbed against my arms, and I also noticed how I just stood there. There was no one inside my apartment with me, and for a Saturday afternoon it was just so quite. The silence was deafening.
I woke up Sunday morning feeling sick. I wasn't sure if it was just me, or if it was the funeral that may have triggered something…and then I thought to myself…am I pregnant? Again? It couldn't be. I rushed to the drug store and bought an off-brand pregnancy test, it was one of the only ones I could afford. I rushed back to my apartment, peed on the stick, and waited for the results. Blue…it's really blue. I'm pregnant. At that moment I knew I had to do something. Two times I was pregnant before, both times my baby had been beaten out of me by my boyfriend. I wouldn't let it happen again. Even though I hadn't met my babies before, I loved them nonetheless. I loved this one too…loved it too much to let anything happen to it. I knew that the only option I had available to me was to run away.
I couldn't tell my boyfriend I was pregnant for obvious reasons, but I didn't want to say goodbye to him. So I didn't. I didn't say goodbye, I didn't leave a note, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he knew what was going on. With the money I had saved up in my piggy bank, I counted three-hundred dollars in quarters, sixty-five dollars in dimes, and fifteen dollars in nickels. It was enough to buy a bus ticket. I packed my clothes in suitcases, and sped off. I got as far away from home as three-hundred dollars would take me, and that was in San Francisco. It would be easy enough for me to find a job in a big city, and it would also be easy enough for me to get lost in it. This was perfect. It was an end to the bullshit I had experienced when I was at home, and it was a new beginning to the life that I was going to live. And then I thought to myself again. Michael died…his life ended, and now I was helping one begin…inside me. In a huge way it helped me cope with Michael's death, even though it was still something new. My baby would get to eat someday at Rhed's diner, and my baby would be able to see the new comic book movies that come out after Michael died. And with that I knew that this move was the right one to make; for my sake, and the sake of my child.

Susan

I didn't want the death of my ex-husband to leave a mark on my family the way the death of his mother left a mark on him. I was worried about Jason mainly though. I just wish I could get through to him. He said he wasn't sad…but what does that make him? I wanted to just pull him aside in the room when I read the letter, but I knew that I would be making a scene. I also knew that I had to get the family back together. When I read the letter, the only thing I could think of was what a bastard my ex-husband was. To never have visited his child was something I couldn't forgive…even if he wasn't mine…
I wanted to cry more as I was driving, but I couldn't. I was just so tired of crying, so tired of wanting more closure before he died. It wasn't fair to him. It wasn't fair to me. At fifty-three years old I still had so much to say to him, but now I know I'll never get that chance. Even though we were no longer together in matrimony, we were still connected. Maybe it was the fact that we had children together, or maybe it was the fact that every time we had some new flings we would rub it in each other's faces. Either way, I knew that there was still so much that had gone unsaid. One thing is for certain though; I know that he always loved me.
As soon as I reached my house, I got these chills all over my spine. I felt like I was coming down with a fever, but it was just me crying again…this time without even noticing. I tried to make sense out of it, but to me, death is something that no one should be able to make sense out of. Maybe that's why I was crying. Jason somehow made sense out of death, I couldn't, nor would I allow myself to. I kind hated that about him. I walked to my door and noticed someone standing in my kitchen. I reached for the pepper spray in my purse and slowly opened the door. The stranger in the kitchen was coming closer and closer, and I panicked. "Here's what you get for breaking into people's houses asshole", I said as I sprayed a good portion of my bottle in the man's eyes.
"OWW, you bitch", he replied back. I then noticed that it wasn't a stranger at all. He was my ex-husband's friend, Peter.
"Oh my God Peter, I am so sorry. What the hell are you doing in my house anyways?"
"I called Jason up to tell him that I was coming to your house, because I didn't know your number. When I told him, he just told me to let myself in because you never lock your door."
"I am so sorry", I said to Peter as he was still rubbing his eyes. "Here, lets get some water on that". After about an hour or so, Peter told me the real reason he came to visit. He thought that the circumstances surrounding my ex-husband's death were very suspicious, and wanted to know if I would support the body for exhumation.
"I just don't think that Michael's death was of natural causes". Now, I had always known that Peter was the paranoid detective type, but I did agree with him when he said it was just a precautionary thing. A part of me thought that this was just me being paranoid, and that I should just leave it alone…but I couldn't. It was a chance to see my ex-husband again…and maybe see if it was a murder…but who was I kidding? It wasn't a murder. Still though, I gave Peter my full blessing. He would need me present in order to get everything in order, but then after that, he told me that he would take the reigns on my behalf. On my behalf, as if I wanted all of this more than I actually did. I drove him home because his vision hadn't exactly returned yet, and I stayed for a while to take care of him. Was I really about to let him do this? Was I really going to do this? I didn't know why, but for some reason I found solace in Peter. I forgave the fact that he called me the b-word, and I asked a favor of him that I never though I would ask. It was late, and I woke him up. "Peter…can you…"
"What?" he mumbled.
"Can you hold me?" He looked at me with his eyes wide open, and realized that he needed to be a little more awake in order to make his decision.
"Sure, just slip into the bed."…and I did. For the rest of the night I felt safe, I felt comfortable. I didn't feel like I was trying to impress anyone, or as if I was trying to nab another man to make Michael jealous…it was over now, and now there was just me. Michael's end, horrible as it is to say, let me find my new beginning.

Jason

We arrived at the place where Dad was supposed to be buried. It was really cold, and I could see nipples through half of the shirts…including mine. To the side, I could see Bree crying. I hated Bree with a passion, but that was only because I knew how she was. Bree is my cousin. So far, she's managed to drop out of high school, get pregnant and have an abortion, twice. Although she said they were miscarriages, everyone knew that she went to the clinic. The only thing she ever came to my Dad for was money. Whenever she was in some sort of trouble, she came to my Dad for money. I could tell that half of the people at the funeral, and everyone that knew her personally, just wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up. She wasn't crying because she felt sad; she was crying to make this whole fucking thing about herself. If people saw how she felt, it would provoke them to ask about how she was feeling. But there was just one thing wrong…everyone could see right through it.
There were my sisters Tina, and Rianne too. They were crying less than Bree, yet they felt more remorse than she did. A subtle tear or two was all that could be seen. And me? I wasn't crying at all. It's not that I didn't feel bad about my Dad dying, it's just that I didn't really picture him as dead. He was always really alive and optimistic and that's the way I wanted to remember him as…alive. My Dad wasn't dead to me, just going away somewhere where I couldn't see him for a while. It affected me at first, but after a few days I got over it. He was there in the casket but I didn't think it was him. In my mind, it was some weird imposter pretending to be him. Late at night, he would get out of the casket and go through some secret tunnel. And that's how I would know, it wasn't my dad in the casket, it was someone else.
When the priest finally wrapped his eulogy up, I noticed my family looking at me. They all seemed mad that I wasn't crying. Fuck them. These were my emotions, my mind they wanted to penetrate, I didn't give a shit if they cast judgment on me. It wasn't their father. When I started the car, my Mother got into the front seat with me as my sisters got into the back. "You know, your father never dealt with the death of his mother. I don't want the same for you. I don't want you to not cry at your own father's funeral".
"I think I'm coping just fine. What do you guys think?"
"You haven't cried once Jason."
"I cried when he died Mom…isn't that enough?"
"I just don't want you to have all the anger that he had."
"I won't have all the anger…I don't get angry much."
"Just promise me that you'll be ok."
"I'll be ok."
When all of that was wrapped up, I got into my house, and invited them all in. On the counter, I noticed a letter. It was from my brother. Up until the age of 18, I'd never seen a picture of my brother. One night when I was really drunk, Rianne called me and told me to look in my email. There he was. I asked her what I was looking at, and she told me that it was my brother. He looked a little unhealthy to say the least; maybe twenty to forty pounds overweight. Because he thought I'd never seen him before, he sent another picture. In this one, he was skinny. It was only five years later, yet his entire look seemed to change. I'd worried about this day, the day he'd want to meet me, and now it was finally here. I opened up the letter and started from the top.

Dear Brother,
For years I've known that I've had brothers and sisters, and
now I want to meet you all. I've heard a lot about you…but
it's mainly been from my Mom telling me things about how
you guys were when she used to baby-sit you. I read
about Dad in the paper…and all I can say is I feel like shit.
I never took the time to get to know him, and now it's too late.
I don't want the same thing happening with all of you.

Sincerely,
Joseph

Attached with the letter was a small yellow sticky note that said he was flying up in a day or two, and to expect him. I was pissed. I didn't like the inconvenience of awkward meetings, or even people like him thinking that they were welcome in my home. My mother looked at the letter when I put it down, and I knew a whole cavalcade of bad memories just rushed into her mind about the time my father had an affair with the baby-sitter. My father had every excuse in the book when it came to talking with us about it, but the reality of it was that I found out I had a brother at the age of fifteen. To not have ever been to any of his birthdays, or any of his anythings…it was awkward to say the least. And now I had to meet him. Whoopdy fucking do, lucky me. My sisters read the note after it was passed from my mother, and they gasped after they were done reading it. If the shock of my Dad dying hadn't subsided yet, they now had the shock of my younger brother wanting to come and visit. I sat down and watched T.V. After a few minutes of silence, my Mother and my sisters left. I had things to do later that day.

So, I'm embarking on some completely new territory. It's a short story called "The Family Memoirs". I'm really excited because I'm halfway done with it, and it's unlike anything I've ever written before. The story centers around the death of a father, and the people who it affects the most. The story goes through multiple perspectives, and we get to see how it hits the central characters, as well as experience their reactions with them. It's something that I'm really excited about, and that's important because I don't get excited often. I'll post it up on here in it's respective parts, one part every day...

-JJ

Well, not really, but I can always pretend...

This week in the world:

I got pregnant

Yes, that's right, I got pregnant. This is a weird and miraculous event, seeing as how I don't know how to abort this one...hell, I don't even know what orfice I'll be birthing it out of. Will it be out of my butt? And if it is out of my butt, will it be considered poop? All of these questions and more overflow my head like a cheap root beer float that just had soad poured into it...but wuteva.

But seriously, baby business...
I had my black friend over to discuss this potential problem...which is totally fine, there's nothing wrong with it...it's just his choice...but back to the topic at hand, it's a huge dilemma, and I'm totally stumped over what to do now...I'm so scared.

So one day, a guy says to a girl: "Hey, my name is (this part really isn't important), what's your name. The girl responds with "(well...this part REALLY isn't that important), nice to meet you (insert more unimportantness)" The two get to know each other as friends, then eventually, the guy starts to want more. Now, their relationship is pretty solid as solid can be, and that's why he thinks now is the time to strike...especially while the iron is red hot.

So one day he hears from a friend of his that she likes him. He goes up to her and asks her out. She says no. He asks why. She tells him that it's because she needs more time, a little bit of space, and is not ready for a boyfriend. Enter Derek. Derek is a douche. Derek is not a nice guy. Derek fucked her the day she rejected him...

I'm Derek.

The old man on top of a mountain; thousands of years old. He sits there for years on end as a silent recluse meditating in order to better himself. No one knows how old he is, but one thing is for certain; he has an answer to every question imaginable. So what answers would he possibly have for some of life's most puzzling questions? No doubt, we would be anxious to hear the answers, but what does it say about us when we have to receive our answers from someone else? That this wise man has all of the answers in the world isn't surprising, but what is surprising is that we want to ask him the questions that we don't have answers to, instead of undergoing the process of finding out the answers ourselves, or formulating our ideas into what the answer could be.

It says much about us when we as a society are unable to formulate our own responses or answers to life's most puzzling questions, yet somehow seek the answers out through alternative means. For the duration of our lives, we are taught that the education we receive from our schools, studies, and news reports are the truth, and the answer to most questions that we have in our life. Instead, what these three things end up accomplishing is a gradual conditioning of the human race to not ever wonder or think about the answers, as the answers will come to them through some source in some shape or form. And the 'truth' is regurgitated through and through. It is reiterated through many mouths, and reaffirmed through the constant vocalization of it, and it's meanings are almost always the same. We as a society are taught everything we know. We are conditioned to not question the world around us, and for us to gain any sort of wisdom is a miracle in itself due to the overwhelming sources of 'answers' we see around us every day.

Wisdom is our personal understanding of the world, and our ability to question everything. Life, death, God, emotion, and even the environment around us; wisdom is the power to not simply accept the 'truths' granted to us, but the ability to go further than the truths and question the very nature of their being. There are many people in the world who claim to be, or are claimed to be by others as 'wise', but are they really? And what about us? Are we really, as separate individuals, all that wise in ourselves? These are all questions that have to be asked, and answered by ourselves, as if the question or answers came from anyone else, we would simply be following a pattern that has been allowing us to simply derive the answers from members of our community, or people that we look up to for the answers (such an example would have to be the wise man atop of the mountain). Besides wisdom serving as our personal understanding, it is also our willingness and drive to seek out the answers to our most maddening questions ourselves.

I believe one of the first steps in becoming 'more wise' is to question everything around you, never fully accept the truths offered to you, and to know that anything and everything, no matter how ridiculous it may sound, is still within the scope of possibility. If you accept this, not as truth, but as more of a philosophy, then the word 'truth' will have a significantly lesser meaning than it once did. This is important, because many 'truths' have been discarded over the years over evidence of 'new truths' that trump the old ones. Not only is this a good strategy for developing a new perspective and insight into new old and new problems, but it also allows some room to question the nature of the current accepted truths that we see in our society today.
As for society, there is much we can do to aid in the development of wisdom. Instead of feeding children, and young adults with answers to every problem, we should aid in the search for the answers, as well as acknowledging the possibility that there may be new solutions, or even new answers altogether in our quest to acquire the wisdom that at times is so hard to find. I believe that if we break this mental conditioning of just being fed the answers, we will have a society of much more intelligent people with a mental capacity that is far greater than the current set being displayed in today's world. But what would that world look like?

Our world would look much more different if everyone acquired the wisdom that is so sought after in today's society. For one, I believe that we would not have wars. War is a primal, immature way of solving a problem; one which I believe should have been discarded many years ago. No doubt we would all still have different religious beliefs, different opinions on certain matters, and we would still have a diverse option of political parties in office. But it is in the way that we go about discussing those matters, and also think about them that would change. Our entire perspective would be shifted, and enlightened if society had the wisdom that it needs. But it doesn't.
So for the old man who sits alone on the top of a mountain, or for the little boy who still does not feel like he knows all the answers, we will all be spun around in the wheel of knowledge. It is weather we accept the force of gravity on the wheel that spins us, or we finally pry our heads away from the wheel, then our feet, then hands, and finally walk away to the center of the wheel, where true wisdom resides. Do we accept the world for what it is, or do we question it? That is where the essence of wisdom resides, and it is up to us to reach out to it.

How Do I Loathe Thee?

How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways.
I loathe you as I do my own mother
And count the ways you drool and smother
Your smile always makes me sick
your greediness is like a tick.
Nothing would make me happier than
to see you locked up in a Iraqui den.
The words you speak all sound like 'arf',
It's word's like these that make me barf.
I loathe thee in ways that cannot speak
the awful words I want to leak.
I loathe thee more than putrid smells;
Your B.O. makes my life a hell.
With barf and poop, and all things wrong;
divorce well sing, it's stupid song.

The world. What is wrong with it? Are we really as unfunny assholes as everyone else makes us out to be? I made a decision a couple of years ago (2) That I would try to live life to the fullest and also try to be optimistic about everything that happened. As a result of this, I try to look at everything through a certain lens that just makes life that much more fun. As a result though, I have gotten into a little bit of trouble.

When the world is suffering from various sicknesses, and mentally related diseases (racism, sexism, AIDS, and other stuff), I feel our right as humans is to make the best out of every situation, and even be able to laugh at it, even if it doesn't directly affect us.

So why do people get offended when I do poke fun at these subjects?

I don't know. That's it. I don't know. People choose to be offended by these things, and that pisses me off. I make offensive jokes ALL the time. When a whole load of people choose to be offended by a statement that is meant to bring on laughter. Holy shit, please shoot me. That statement in itself, probably offended someone. I think the main point of this is I don't care. There. I said it. There is no point of getting pissed off at something I say, because you are wasting energy, and I will not change. Will a apologize? If you truly did get offended, and you come to me with your problem with my joke, I will apologize. But no one has yet. I don't think any of us should change for anything or anyone. There is this horrible disease of the mind circulating around America and the rest of the free world where we feel obligated to sacrifice a part of our character or ourselves to make others happy. I will not be one of the diseased people. Live with it.

Love,
J.J.

Thought this may be a little old, I noticed that I haven't really expressed any though on it. I promise I'll try to be as unbiased as possible.

As of recently, Curtis Jackson (aka, 50 Cent) has had some not so kind words for Oprah. His allegations have stirred up quite a contraversy because many other rappers are supporting him when he says that Oprah has an "anit-hip hop bias". His arguement is that Oprah caterers to "middle class white women [sic]", and not enough to a black audience that she owes her life to.

Now lets examine this argument of his, and compare and contrast the contributions made by both.

Beginnings:

Oprah had a very humble beginning growing up in the ghetto to an unsupporting mother, and was molested by her uncle, cousin, and also a friend of the family.

Curtis Jackson was an orphan raised by his grandparents in Queens, New York. What he did in his spare time (bio entries don't tell much) is not known while residing in New York.

Winner of Round 1: Oprah
Oprah definately overcame alot of trauma to get where she is today, and she never denies where she came from. Instead of making it a selling point to her character, she illustrates it with some shows she does, often inviting people that have inspired her, wether it be a famous politicial figure, or just someone from her hometown that reached out to her.

Media Support: (slander bullshit)

Oprah: Oprah is in control. Bottom line. But what has she done to respond to allegations from 50 Cent, and Ludacris? Truth be told: not much. She's probably too busy to respond to matters like this when she is trying to work on her next show. This isn't to say Curtis isn't also busy, but he seems to have enough spare time on his hands to badmouth Oprah in any way he sees fit.

Curtis: One thing Curtis has is the support of many powerful figures in the public spotlight that will defend him. Such people include: Himself, Ludacris, and Ice Cube. When all of the weight from these combined figures is actually realized, it becomes clear that Oprah isn't exaclty winning many of THEM over.

Winner: Curtis. Throw in a shitload of popular figures that, while they may not have the same impact as Oprah, can make a serious dent in her reputation, it could be a very damaging issue.

Contributions to Society:

Oprah: Oprah has contributed not only an enormous amount to society, but also the world. She has funded the construction of a new school in Africa, given to plenty of charities, and also sometimes broadcasts these events, which in my opinion, isn't so much a publicity stunt to sell herself, rather it's an attempt to open her audiences eyes to the real problems that exist in the world. She had been on the forefront of equal treatment for gays and lesbians, as well as making the world question some of it's ideal and beliefs.

Curtis: As an artist, Curtis' albums have sole MILLIONS. He is, without a doubt, a very influencial figure. His albums have no doubt inspired many, and given many the music of 'their lives' when it comes to actual content. He has won various awards, as well as pioneering his own buck tooth gorilla face look into somehow bringing something sexy back. But besides that, there is not much he has done that hasn't seemed to promote his own agenda.

Winner: Oprah

GRAND PRIZE WINNER OF A FREE WAFFLE MAKER = Oprah

Let's face it. After all of these comparisons in which I try to stay unbiased (although the gorilla comment probably ruined that notion), Oprah will, and always will stay on top. Rappers argue that she's not black/African enough...to that I say, 'have you gone to Africa yet? Better yet, have you helped people there? Built any schools lately?' Because in reality, Curtis Jackson is just as black, if not less, than Jessica Simpson. Even him trying to comment on anything Oprah is wrong because he simply can't compare. Comparing 50 cent to Oprah is like comparing crap to gold. You just don't. With that said, I feel that whatever comes her way can't possibly hurt her, and she really didn't lose anything by loosing viewers that like 50 cent (which is about 5 viewers in total).

-JJ

Is it just me, or has every other celebrity as of lately checked into rehab as some form of a publicity stunt? Usually, I wouldn't be obsessive over something like this, but the only reason I am is because it makes people who actually seek out the help they need at rehabilitiation clinics seem like a joke. These people might feel altogether discouraged due to the fact that the only people that seem to be visiting rehab are celebs who want to garner a little publicity for themselves. In the process, they gain a 'get out of jail free' card by their small stints in rehab, therefore excusing any behaviors that may have tarnished their image in the first place. Here are the list of celebs who have gotten a free pass at a clean slate due to the 'help' they've recieved:

Lindsay Lohan
Brandon Davis
Britney Spears (although she checked out soon after)
Mel Gibson
Isaiah Washington
Kate Moss
Robert Downey Jr. (Who in my opinion, is the only legit man who sought help)
Kelly Osbourne
Nicole Richie

And the list goes on...

I think as long as this goes on, rehab will not be seen as a place to go to to seek help or assistance with life altering problems, but as a magic solution to every problem in the book, as well as a glamorous one that does not lead to solving these problems, but getting a temporary reprieval from the behaviors that elicited them.

So the game seems to be:
1. Go party hard, or say [insert racist joke here], or do some kind of drug.
2. Make it seem like all of this is affecting your life in some way.
3. Go to rehab to clear your name, and they will all come flocking back.

So simple, I might do it.

-JJ