The Amateur Everything

Dilation.

Thu, 06 Oct 2011 00:47:00 -0400

I raise the mandible from around a -35° decline… drag the cranium, the neck along with it. Deliberate motion with minimal resistance, to bring the eyes into view.

Dilation.

A streetlight from an unassigned number of yards away emits particles, photons, which behave like waves. Collisions with imperceptible violence, less than ideal reflection coefficients on solid surfaces, and particles of air themselves providing a scattering effect.

Adjust.

Dilation.

Multiple repetitions in less than a second: A dim illumination in the dark. Individual hairs at myriad orientations resolve into detail at partial spirals.

The ears strain, attemptin-…

Ignore. Ambiguate. Attend to it later.

Always later.

A series of muscle contractions:

Leaning back.
Balancing weight in the opposing direction.
Left upper limb extension.
Rotate to face the arm posteriorly.
Pronation.
Abduction of the index finger.

A flood of light: Constriction. Rebound dilation.

Even in the radiating amber, bathing the tiles and everything in-between their planes, the slight blue tinge of the sclera looking back at me is perceptible.

Osteogenesis imperfecta, displaying with blue scle-…

I have two choices, among others: The conventional wisdom is that I’m supposed to “turn my brain off” at this hour, to think less. ”Conventional wisdom” doesn’t really resemble the actual concept of wisdom, upon examination in the mirror.

I have the will to make free choices. I will choose differently.

Both arms brought forward, gripping the lateral walls of the sink. A series of adjustments allows an increasingly firm grip, without an excessive push towards gravity, without a lift upwards. The temptation is resisted to apply any of these forces in excess: In better shape, the sink would barely stand a chance. At present, the sink would win in the tension battle versus my sustained contractile forces.

Suppression, in small doses, allows for productivity and appreciation of certain moments/scenarios. I refuse to go anywhere near pathological levels, freely, consciously.

Increase the grip. Steadying, opposing static forces slightly.

Dilation: The vessels on my right sclera stand in sharper relief than before I entered this room. I’d gone countless days without anything resembling the symptom, a combination of careful management of potential physical and psychological causes.

I lean into the litany of possible conditions this would represent, instead of avoiding them, consciously arguing and counterarguing all noticeable sides, improving my understanding of the matter slightly, while relieving the tension in a controlled and steady fashion.

Control, engagement, focus, meeting it head on, yet again.

The ears strain as I reach the end of this process, and I let the internal works have their turn. The ring becomes a roar, and I hear nothing else in the sprawl, harmonizing intentionally in the mix as it begins to roll, recede, die back down at a moment whose occurrence I actually let slip by in the midst of it all.

…and it sounds gorgeous, for just a while.

Keeping my own counsel is what’s gotten me through, this far in. Stepping back was necessary, and shifting the weight back became desired, rather than needed, after a while. I was told, so many times, that I would find out a lot about myself, and about others, when I would decide to train towards becoming a Doctor. Managing my expectations, let alone my hopes, in the midst of it has shown more about myself than about the others toward whom those attitudes may have originally been assigned.

I don’t ask for help because I need it, even though I may sometimes want it.

You don’t need them. I write this on an index card, and attach it to a wall, just in case I forget to say this at a critical moment.

I can freely choose the difficult path, to be transparent and fair whenever possible. I will rarely fluctuate, because I adhere to my own remarks, and my own expectations, nearly always. I am no longer afraid of disappointing anyone but myself, and the fact that I can sleep at night a bit more often is no coincidence.

Delete all of it. Save all of it.

Edit, restructure, reorder.

Days, weeks, months pass.

I look in the mirror, a constant warp bending the striking light, providing a consistent distortion. Another one exists in the next room, any time I want something more accurate, but this is the one that I bother to stare at, on most nights. I let myself smirk, then smile, the expression that lights up rooms when followed by a booming laugh.

I exiled myself, a while back. I know why I did so, and there’s not a person on Earth that can claim that my motivations lie elsewhere. The only capable arguing opponent is occupied with typing, reflected at the focal point of a cheap mirror.

My ears strain again, but on the sound of my voice, projected and reverberating miles from you.

#19,999.

I got through airport security, once more. I was past a point of no return.

Tue, 03 May 2011 19:37:00 -0400

Nothing had changed, I quietly remarked to myself.

Once again, I prepared to depart from a country that I weakly regarded as home. It alienated me constantly, and the efforts that I made to navigate it had benefits: I had continued to develop a sure stride, had become more incisive to dismantle those who refused the relevancy of any rules. I had learned the manner in which I loved at least one thing about most individuals that I encountered, even though I was slower to cement these changes, when it came to understanding people’s perceptions of myself (and I mean on the less-formalized, gut level… the formal aspect of my understanding other people’s thought processes was polite enough to wait for the rest of me). I read the wrong information out of the world, I interpreted it for a while as what I still call an Unrequited Love of the World, when describing the mostly illogical feeling.

Once again, I prepared to depart from a country that I weakly regarded as “home.” I’d sifted through objects, and seen a branching out of several possible lives that aren’t the one I’m living out, now. The resiliency that I’d built up over those 10 years ensured that I’d finally go ahead and go for medical school.

Once more, I prepared to head to medical school, dislodging me from even the debate on where I could be at “home.” The consequences of this eventually took me to an island.

I found my gate within… I counted the steps. 53 normal strides: The gate was rather close to where I’d entered the terminal. I made two calls… and then stared at my phone.

I wanted to say t-… I shut my phone off.

Once more, I prepared to go somewhere else, but I was more sure of my goals, because they were within my grasp. That was “home” enough, for me.

As a result, I had developed a certain internal rapport… I knew when I could express a lot of things in one sentence, to myself:

I was past a Point of No Return: There was no chance of me bringing the Bat Gauntlet with me to the island, anymore.

#19,998.

Yeah, I’m pretty smooth. No one would survive my...

Thu, 28 Apr 2011 01:35:06 -0400

Yeah, I’m pretty smooth.

No one would survive my National Geographic episode.

No one.

unconnectedincidents: I promised Karthik a prize for guessing...

Thu, 28 Apr 2011 01:12:00 -0400

unconnectedincidents:

I promised Karthik a prize for guessing which muppet I am. Here it is.

¡YEE! Winning is great.

An easy way to be on my good side: Promise things and follow-through. They don’t even necessarily have to be big-deal things, either.

defystars: myriadslits: I am truly saddened by the death of...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 19:37:45 -0400

defystars:

myriadslits:

I am truly saddened by the death of Poly Styrene. The woman stood out on her own & she was amazing. Life is short. Make your riot now.

Poly Styrene died today. She was only 53 years old.

“Some people think little girls should be seen & not heard
but i think, oh bondage, up yours!“

transylvanianmisanthropy: ©Simon Fowler for SunnO)))

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 18:46:12 -0400

transylvanianmisanthropy:

©Simon Fowler for SunnO)))

guitar-porn: 1958 Hofner Club 50. Most people instantly think...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 17:57:34 -0400

guitar-porn:

1958 Hofner Club 50.

Most people instantly think of the Beatles when they hear the name Hofner due to a certain violin-type-bass guitar but they have always had a very respectable range, with personal favourites being the Verithin Semi-Acoustic, the Club Bass and its cousin the Club Guitar. Can I get a ‘Hell Yeah’ for this hollow-bodied beauty?

yvynyl: Kim Gordon featured artist at Exhibition A, via...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 17:55:30 -0400

yvynyl:

Kim Gordon featured artist at Exhibition A, via Thurston’s blog.

torncurtain: Lush - Ladykillers (1996) Goddamn, Miki Berenyi is...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 17:55:10 -0400

torncurtain:

Lush - Ladykillers (1996)

Goddamn, Miki Berenyi is a fox!

thelinsee: notblueatall: humansolatium: Sometimes I think...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 15:57:03 -0400

thelinsee:

notblueatall:

humansolatium:

Sometimes I think this is tattooed across my face.

Oh! I should do this! Too cool! I do it everyday anyway.

Awesome.

I’m hairier, but I do want a hat like that. Honestly, that’s what I do with Tumblr when I’m constrained by being in a more academic mode… and basically all the time. It’s apparently very hard for a lot of people to believe, but it’s not like I haven’t given any clues (The name of the blog is The Amateur Everything, folks).

Due to the fact that I have a sturdy card table (stories for another time), I’d actually be a bit more capable of pulling off this setup.

I just thought you should all see what this little sh#%* made my...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 13:32:00 -0400

I just thought you should all see what this little sh#%* made my Inbox look like, between a combination of mid-December and now. When I do end up prompting messages again, it’ll be because I am craving something resembling variance. These are just the messages that don’t have blatantly in-progress drafts going… there are more.

wingwalker: Wizzard

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 12:52:17 -0400

wingwalker:

Wizzard

Exactly. Of course, since I’m not a pathological...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 12:47:17 -0400

Exactly.

Of course, since I’m not a pathological hoarder, I’m attentive to a certain base level of cleanliness on even holdovers from past residences (I’m not saving anything that would do anything inherently awful, like mold, etc..).

That said, it’s entirely an ongoing exercise in learning more about myself and the situation itself in that past state by not taking the easy route. I’ve grown through learning of and exploring different cognitive pathways, things that just wouldn’t be possible if I destroyed something like this, or gave it away, or even just recorded over it. It would feel good in the immediate moment, but I thought ahead to this point now, that was only theoretical.

Of course it hurt, at first. But letting its content decay allowed me time to really… grasp things in a full manner. It’s a particular foundation of why I didn’t just repress, gloss over my own emotions, and why I’m the person I am today, which is entirely healthier than the alternative,* in spite of how self-torturous this might feel like to anyone else.

Of course I feel a bit sorrowful, but it’s not immediately in the present tense… it’s projected backwards through time, to that stage of my own development, to whom that recording was really addressed to.

It will be interesting to see where I am in my life, when the battery finally dies.

*Comma abuse.

Foreshadowing… of something from my past.* *You can tell...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 04:59:00 -0400

Foreshadowing… of something from my past.*

*You can tell that it was nearly 4 a.m. by… everything.

Yes, this is from the same set. Goodnight.

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 04:41:22 -0400

Yes, this is from the same set.

Goodnight.

madpunishmentwheel: HAHA Crossover of themes… it’s...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 04:39:02 -0400

madpunishmentwheel:

HAHA

Crossover of themes… it’s that time again.

This had to be saved for a late post. I’m clearly on the...

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 04:38:18 -0400

This had to be saved for a late post. I’m clearly on the right.

yvynyl: HI-FI. Levity.

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 04:31:54 -0400

yvynyl:

HI-FI.

Levity.

I learned the impact of my own gaze over a decade ago.

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 04:31:00 -0400

I’ve been measured with its usage, ever since.

Between that and my previously stronger (but still present) light sensitivity, I’d come to obscure the matter via sunglasses. In more recent years, I’d come to prefer transition lenses, for the quick switch when stepping out to greet my archnemesis, El Sol.

Ultimately, none of the pairs were that important, and I even completely lost a good pair, along with a different pair of prescription sunglasses, between my years in Springfield and the first two years of college.

As it pertains to the cheap ones, the circumstances around them are so much more significant than the specific purchase itself. All of them keep pointing back to the basic elements above, as well. As a result, the inevitably quick scratching of their cheaply-coated exterior (whether before or during said ownership) becomes this letdown that is simultaneously minor and major, between the actual item and the psychology swirling around the object.

But I veered away from any true validity of being diagnosed as a “hoarder” ages ago, despite retaining a fair amount of stuff in repeated and increasingly personally motivated purges.

That’s where the camera comes very much in-handy, as a compromise.

1|2|3|4

I’d wear a pair for a half hour at a time, tonight, while moving around items. Chances are, I’d be wearing a different pair, when I reentered a room.

I still have all of those Sega cartridges.

Wed, 27 Apr 2011 04:18:45 -0400

They’re evidence that I lived in the same house with someone for two years.

I don’t want them, as a result.

However, I won’t get rid of them. Next time, I’m going to mail them to her, should I get an address.

“FINE, waste money, then” Mum told to me, when I said what I would do.

“It’s the right thing to do. I wouldn’t want anything less, in this situation.”

Fairness was irrelevant, at the time, but that doesn’t stop me, now. I have no need for such vengeful disregard, now.