If This is Man

Last night, I suddenly became extremely disgusted by mankind. I decided to expand upon my feelings. Here's what I've come up with so far.

"There are rules. In this world, there are many rules. Said, and widely believed, to be beneficial, these restrictions do just what their moniker suggests: they restrict. They have hindered the growth and development of generation after generation. They, in effect, destroy any chance of an intellectual renaissance. These rules demand nothing of mankind. Nothing but unquestioning obedience. And the punishment? The consequences for disregard of the unspoken guidelines? Ostracization from everyone one knows, everyone one will ever know. Variation is society's rival; deviation, the nemesis of the status quo..."

That's as far as I could go; it's quite exhausting to try and gather your thoughts sometimes.

You're a zombie.

It's been approximately... Forever since I've posted. I haven't had much to say. But now it's 12:30 Saturday night and I'm stranded in OKC watching Beavis and Butthead Do America.

Do you ever think life would be easier if we never had to talk to anyone? I swear to God I have some freaky form of social anxiety. I don't really actively like very many people; although I see the good in people, I just don't like them. I'd rather just sit home in my room with myself and my prose than be out on the town wreaking havoc.
Maybe that's the old woman in me. She comes out when I drive, I call her Judith.

I need help. I figured I'd use this as a way to clear my mind and gather my thoughts, but I don't translate to technology well. When I see a blank screen, it's like the white of the monitor consumes my mind and forces out all hope of rational thought. I become a mindless zombie. I think I'll stick to paper.

It's Been A While

I'm not much of a computer person. It makes me feel weird to sit in front of a screen all day.

The weather gave me an ulcer I did not much appreciate, but never fear. I just vibed with Brian Jonestown Massacre and my friends the Dandy Warhols and I got by.

My sixteenth birthday is in a couple weeks. I'm not very excited. Nothing's really exciting anymore. In the words of my lover, Courtney Taylor Taylor of the Dandies, I've been thinking about nothing but doing nothing but thinking. I guess it all really changed when one of my closest cohorts, Iñaki, killed himself. It was in January, but the whole process took a long time. Not to go into grizzly and depressing details, but he hanged himself. They caught him, but too late. He was in the hospital,a vegetable, for 5 days before he actually died. That was the hardest week I've ever gone through; not knowing what was really going on, not seeing him all day like I normally did, knowing the tragedy that was bound to unfold, and dealing with all the Super Christians who prayed and prayed for him to be back at school the next day.
It's been a rough almost 2 months. Rough being the hugest understatement ever. I've got people who want to talk and who are there, I'm just not much of a talker when it comes to this. I try. There are few people I can actually open up to.




This, of course, is my beloved Iñaki.

Rainy Days and Thursdays

Rather than cleaning, like a responsible child, I thought I'd sit down and think. I didn't get very far; today seems more like a Do Something day. Which is fortunate, because I will be doing something with my boyfriend, Nick, later. Hooray.
Last night was loads of fun. My friend John had yet another get together at his Mormon abode and a few of us kicked back and kicked each other's asses at ping pong, watched a little bit of Precious (love my Gabourey), broke a pogo stick, and altogether pissed off John's parents. Good night, in my opinion.

When I got home, I attempted to watch Schindler's List, but I fell asleep. Don't get me wrong, I love Jews, but something about it lulled me to sleep.
Now I'm home mostly alone, save the company of my youngest sister, Emory, who is busy occupying herself painting.

I guess I'll try to sort out a bit of my life.
My name's Berkeley. I'll be sixteen in twenty five days. I'm stranded in a small town in Oklahoma, but I originally hail from Texas.
I'm in a band that, as of late, lies dormant due to excessive scheduling conflicts. Photography, more and more, seems to be my biggest means of emotional release. It's my goal in life to become a photojournalist for National Geographic.

I am fascinated by people; what forms and shapes their attitudes, their choices, why some of us are loners, while the majority sticks together, etc.
Grammar is undoubtedly one of the most important things in my life. It portrays maturity, intelligence, and pride in yourself. i dont liik ppl who type liik dis.
I've been a vegetarian for going on three years and I'm avidly against animal cruelty.
I have problems trusting people, but contrary to the norm, I tend to be much too trusting. I am over apologetic and under confident.
I like to laugh at myself, and friends who can do the same.

Offbeat poetry and music constitute my being.

So you get the idea. I'm a weirdo.

Kickoff.

The phrase Blogger reminds me of Frogger.
I'm not here to be angsty, or indie, or philosophical. I'm here to vent.
I figure this won't matter to anyone but me. Well, that's quite alright.