August 25, 2006
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Importance priming.

What's important? With no preface, what's significant in life? Without prelude, what matters? We each answer this differently. But I've seen many examples of people juicing up the value of something with an introduction to sway our opinion. For example I was at a college graduation where the speakers would ham up each section of degrees. . . Okay read this interpretation of the speaker telling us each major being "the most important." After hearing each of these you'd have thought "Oh of course yeah this little group of students are going to make it in the world because what they're studying is just so much better than that of other subjects!"

Computer Science: Technology is prevalent—whether at the supermarket paying for groceries or in the office working on a report—computers are a major chunk of living. Electronics are everywhere and thus the following students won't be left in the dust. Computer Science is the most imperative study because our world is a binary land of bits and 0's and 1's with Bill Gates the richest man in existence having brought desktops into our homes. Computer Science is the most important major!

Economics: Our lives revolve around money; let's face it. We crave currency. We'll do bad things for riches. Cash is undeniably crucial. With a major of Economics, our students keep finances in mind with the understanding of marketing trends and Wall St. analysis. They say "money is power," and these students have it with their financial knowledge. Economics is the most important major!

Psychology: The study of something so vital as mental thought, the mind, and our inner workings puts our Psychology students ahead of the crowd. They know how and why you "tick." The following Psychology graduates understand the world in a very special way—this grasp on human nature will allow these classmen to make it through life with a supreme comprehension of how things work. Psychology is the most important major!

BULLSHIT!!!

This has been very obvious to me who has transformed his personal interests to basics , who has simplified his living with the fundamentals taking lead importance. . . While you may be able to scoff a look of disgust, "You don't know the Iraqi Peace Deal, mannnnnn?" I let others take care of it, quite simply, without allowing it to enter my own purposes. Yet—as I read and write instead of watching CNN—you appear like fucking idiots to me when you stumble over stupid sentences. (None of my friends send me email!!!) And while you may be proud of cool sunglasses or a fast car, I'm present with a powerful body inseparable from myself. The average millionaire would have no choice but to be OBEDIENT if everything so far as clothes were stripped away from him and I.

And I'll get spiritual on you. . . What's more important than love? Let me say it again , what's better than love? Love is what we live for—it begins life—there's really something to it. When thinking about the origins of life in our universe, X and Y were paired up with a certain attraction—love—thus we're here to learn to love. That's a belief, with perhaps evidence to it.

love, parents, children, friends, family, strength, language, expression, achievement, creativity.
this is what I live for
intimacy, health, security, power, production, personal statements, influence.

I won't listen to your preamble of what's important—how the Motorola RAZR is different because it's for communication—how fast cars are crucial because they get you to the other people quicker—I don't want to hear it. Anything can be talked up. Colors, for example, will be polished over when anyone chooses their favorite. There is no best color—but whoever will act like a salesman with vibrant adjectives and beautiful language when referring to a wavelength. The cool blue of an ocean wave is superior. The pulsating hue of a sweet flame makes it the winner. A most excellent color doesn't exist; it's an individual preference.

Girls won't tell you they have any fat; they'll say it's "fun fat." Fun fat!

And priming occurs after the fact, like a justification, in referring to what's really important. You may very well say with a smile on your face, "Sure Jeffrey is strong and good at writing—but I know a lot about government—and that's what's really important!" Or, "Okay Jeff is thin and he creates a lot from nothing—but I'm versed well in finances—and that's what's really important!" You can call me an idiot, but I've excelled in the basics. I've seen worse than anything you will ever experience, where material belongings didn't matter to me for months, and this understanding (commonly known as perspective) is a direct result of having "lost everything" for some time.

August 17, 2006
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A Damaged Individual.

Those of you who know me, or know of me, should know that my recovery following a near-death car crash was certainly something miraculous, but the differences with which I've faced are falling short: weak voice, slow running, etc. I'm not fully recovered—still not—although any improvement I see will be small—miniature improvements but still upgrades nonetheless—so I believe I will never embody the same potential I once comprised. Even so I'm no longer the do-nothing alcoholic I once was. I'm not that kid who wasted his time on this beautiful planet accomplishing nothing—I'm now the 24 year-old man who has become stronger than anyone he knows and who writes shiny sentences in hopes of professionally working with language. I'm a great man.

I've seen much worse than anything you will ever face and have only demanded better from myself after seeing it. You, you couldn't do this , you couldn't bear a taste of what I've overcome. Not only that but I now plan for a life of "giving something back" to the world after causing so much grief—yes I'm already thinking about some humanitarian work within our country during upcoming summers! I'm a great man.

Where was I going with this. . . A few days ago I was walking around the city when a young boy asked me, "Why do you walk like that?" I said I had a bad leg.   It made me sad. . .   And today I left the Woo State gymnasium (where I go most days for an hour of cardio) at which place I ran into an upperclassman who said, "You hurtin', dude?" in regards to my weak or tilted step (albeit after exercising). It told me something; it illustrated that perhaps my steps are a little off-balance. . . thus I walked around some more on the city streets and, yes, I do believe I need a higher lift from the shoe place. I'm not sure why but the raise in my left shoe had been reduced when it should have been increased. . . I hope to have that fixed soon.

Still, I'm not driving currently and expect ne'er to venture too far from home or ECM or the Woo State area when I commute. Think of it like this , some of you can imagine kicking my ass in a fight, correct? and you expect me to move so slow that I'm unable to react, right? well that's a scenario I see as bullshit, fucking completely, because I'm able to concentrate JUST FINE when dealing with one or two people or a situation where not too much varies (read: I'm so goddamn sure I can beat you silly. . .)—yet the circumstances of a Main St. weekend night with such complexity of lights coming and going and niggas (no er makes it okay!) turning up their rap music would possibly distract me.

I began my fitness quest with hopes of winning back Allyson yet now I've seen that it wouldn't look right for us to be paired up. And I'll continue with my physical superiority because none of you are willing or prepared to give it a real go at the gym—you're more concerned with your possessions, that I now don't care for; I'd rather have people envious of me, separate from clothes or cars. You are not the clothes you wear. You are not the car you drive. I can reiterate lines from Fight Club, which I see as truth (and was developed through people who've seen damage like me. . .), but the favorable females of this world with their big tits bouncing up and down and that tight ass teasing me with a back and forth motion, guhhh, and those lips that I want to part with my dick. . . uh uhmmm . . . they don't see the world in nearly the perspective with which I've been given. Thus I need some proprietary fame and riches to score some slammin' ladies.

I really don't give a fuck which car I drive in years to come; I only see the destination as important. I couldn't care what Brand shirt I have on; I principally mind that it's tight enough to show off my sexy, powerful body—this independent of money.

Those of you who've known me in the past may always view me as broken, however, because you'll always be looking for that wobbly step or tilted head. . . Someone asked me, "Do they think you'll have a full recovery?"    and I shrugged.   Think about this : I was 3/15 Glasgow , that's 20% of what I once was—my bodily reactions were THAT retarded! so it's pretty unlikely I'll see a "full recovery." But I don't mind falling a li'l short with any abilities; I've improved my general living so that many of you are jealous of me. . . I've got a great family backing me up for where I'm now taking myself, I hold enough momentum with thoughts on living a full life autonomous of a BMW, and my muscular appearance of making you look weak brings with it enough envy through so little as standing next to me. (I'll leave the authorship talent out of this while you're enjoying my work.)

If you wonder what "the beauty of disaster" is, look at my life.

August 8, 2006
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What you're reading will be published.

I'd like to start this off with a question for my parents who read this:

For the upcoming Christmas can I please have a published hardcopy of what I've written, to hold onto for years to come?

2006: The JustChillen Empire. . . a great personal artifact to look back on. . . I want an editor give my words a once over and maybe helping with the chapter structure and layout of material in this tuff as nails anthology of any 2-0-0-6 thought. Isn't that a marvelous idea? Yes I'll have a fuckin' book, journal of sorts, published that has entertained many. You wouldn't believe the amount of people who regularly read my sentences! I'll hit refresh and watch the hits +1 and +1 and over and over bringing a smile to my face and a tickle to my testicles. I won't say "this is power"—but you only wish you had so many caring to read your text—you only dream you can have people reading whatever you care to write.

Thus if you'd like to be remembered for always by yours truly please post something on my webboard. I've heard from Kristen J. recently and I'm now hoping to meet up with her sometime soon. . . Again if you read this material please entertain the notion of you yourself contributing something—you don't even have to register! You perusing this now, please give it a shot if you have something valid to say. If you have an idea worth communicating please use the Guest option for imprinting a remark. . .

The other night I saw an ol' friend—more so a buddy by proxy—he said "I love your webpage." and he commented "I thought the Black cellphone earpiece thing was hilarious."—this while I don't have his email or chat name! I've got a lot of people listening to me, reading whatever I care to talk about, la la la, and there's great quality to my words.

I DON'T KNOW ANYONE WHO WRITES THIS WELL.

If you're offended by that pompous assertion, well I want you to jot one page about yourself and I BET it's nothing comparable to my composition. . .

This has gotten very bitter. . . but I'd like to end this by reaffirming my Christmas wishes: I hope for a copy of my text in the flesh of paper to be printed as a present. Mom and Dad, pw-w-wease?

(And if you do write well, please chime in on my threads.)

A lot goes on at The Playa's Club. Or

. . .continue with July.