37) Relativity

After some studious and intimate hours of note taking through my physics textbook, I've grasped the basic concepts of Einstein's special relativity. Also, kudos to my physics teacher for having the devotion to teach an otherwise uninterested class in the complex intricacies of the universe.

Basically, Einstein lays down a four dimensional plane in which we exist: length, width, height, and time. This pretty much throws Euclidean geometry out of the window. Triangles can have degrees outside 180, and not everything works the way you want it to.

If you dig a bit deeper, you'll find that the theory involves time dilation, gravity affecting time, and all mass equaling rest energy (E=mc^2).

So just how complex does our universe get?

I've come to notice special and fascinating things that occur in my life that can't be explained by science or concept. In my relatively(haha) dull life, I've made it a habit to notice the strange little things that seem to transcend understanding.

Mind you, I'm not talking about religion, philosophy, or any other concept that humanity has coined with terms. In fact, it's so unique and special that I don't think I could fully explain it in words. To do so would be a contradiction. Too bad. I'm doing it anyway.

Most of what I'm referring to comes from what we don't understand about ourselves, about others. For example, perspective. We have adjectives that describe so many things. However, this is only a widely accepted definition of what can be sensed with the human organs. You might see red a different way that I do, but we both call it a bright color. But what does the blind see when you describe it to them?

I'm suggesting that the differences between us, the things that make us special and unique, are not a result of genetics, upbringing, or observation. They exist in an unknown state that transcends you or me. It exists everywhere and nowhere. It is everything and nothing at the same time.

What I'm talking about is the things you cannot accurately describe with words, only because everyone sees it differently. When different people read a story, they come up with their own separate thought process that can paint vivid images. These images cannot be the same as the next person. It can't happen. And if it does, we can't fully explain it.

I'm referring to trying to describe dream to a friend. Can they ever know and experience exactly what you saw? Maybe, but the common response is no.

I realize that this kind of thought process is fanatical, if not common among those I know. Thing is, I doubt anybody could ever explain it to another and convey an intact meaning. I'm having a hell of a time just typing this out.

I've grown more and more fascinated by these unexplainable, impossible to understand thoughts. Yet I still wish for more to calm my brain in rigorous mental exercise. It's a good addiction to pass the time.

But what of the real world? If it doesn't exist at all, then all the thinking I've ever done on this means everything. But if this reality is true and my thoughts are the fantasies, it means I've wasted so much time.

Then again, time might not really matter.

That's something I hope is true.

33) Convulsion's Smile

Listen as your enraged host rambles endlessly on the Mexican Drug War, Arizona's rambo immigration bill, President Obama's popularity in a tailspin proven with the don't ask don't tell policy speech interruption, violent political protests in Bangkok, Thailand: with accompanying video, and an ending message of hope.

32) Tasukete!

After raging on the perils on my unhappy life and returning to the monotony of required schooling, my mind has calmed a bit. However, my soul continues to cry for help in other forms. It's not everyday that wishes for liberation can be fulfilled. The chance still brings me hope.

After looking at the futility of my situation, much should be improved. Whether they can be improved is another story entirely. Reflections and whining can only do so much. So where do people get their motivation from?

There's a movie I'm quite fond of. It stars a young Natalie Portman in her debut, along with a younger and more eccentric Jean Reno. The movie is called Léon, about a solitary hitman living in New York City's Little Italy. Léon is a lonely and downtrodden man. Even though his occupation keeps him from making friends, he is able to find consolation in the littlest things.

There is a scene in the film where Léon comments on how his best friend is a houseplant. The plant never talks back at him, and is always there to listen. The film concludes with Léon's sacrifice to save a young girl he befriends.

Another movie I love is Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai. It depicts the mysterious 'Ghost Dog', a hitman that follows the honorable code of the samurai, often reciting passages from Yamamoto Tsunetomo's Hagakure. He is a lone stranger that is friends with a man who doesn't speak his language, along with a young girl that never sees his true nature. Aside from killing, he also cares for a flock of pigeons that live above his apartment.

Ghost Dog also perishes at the conclusion of the film, sacrificing himself so that he may atone for his sins and follow his code.

What do these two films have in common? I find myself alluding to these charcters more and more, men bound to their lives by a code that they begrudgingly accept because it was the path they chose. Both are strangers to the common world, accepted only by a small few who cherish the hopes of the outside world.

And in the end, both die in distress and pain, not fearing, for they know full well this is their destiny.

Who can deny such men are honorable idols of valor and courage, of honor and strength? I find myself more attached to this fiction because I can no longer see the realism in believing such characters could exist in the free world.

I can no longer believe that there are still people of honor and chilvary. I can't see the existence of morality and ethics that humankind has set for itself. There is no obligation to abide by good anymore.

It saddens me to know that such fictional characters can only be fiction because they embody so much of what I believe in. What is a man to do when he realizes his code can never hold value in the world?

So I won't listen to my parents, my imaginary characters, or my teachers. They can't give me what I want.

Because amidst this suffering, this is the path I choose. Of all the nightmares and hells I could have embraced, I choose this one, only because it is in full and utter harmony with everything I stand for and constitutes every last fiber of my being. I don't change it because I'm afraid. I don't change it because it makes me stronger.


継続は力なり
-Continuance is strength.

Interlude: 4th Quarter Writing Goals

As I reflect on my previous writing on this blog for the past several months, I continue to see the trends and patterns that pervades my witting. I have branched off to new ways of expressing my ideas, with some degree of success and satisfaction.

Alas, my bitter struggle with writer's block continues. It is the single greatest factor preventing the expression of my soul through words. But in finding a solution to this, I must be practical. I did not expect myself to change drastically from my last reflection, but I certainly have gone through some change.

I've been able to isolate my creativity enough to chart it like a stock market graph. It peaks at certain moments, and then dips down low for the majority of the time. I am currently residing at one of these dip points.

This analyzation post is an exception to that graph of doom. That's because this is the post where I list my new goals:

- Again, I must renew my sacred oath to battle Writer's Block. Again, the embittered soldier at the Alamo does not know how to give up.

- Expand my horizons. I hope to go beyond just a simple podcast and words to include some video. Spring break is coming up soon, and i'll see if this idea is logistically possible.

- Express myself in a way that is satisfactory and soul soothing.

- Stop thinking a blog post is an academic assignment every three seconds.

- Effectively convey the most understandable meaning in my words in the shortest space possible.

- Make my posts more coherent and structured. I have the nasty habit of jumping point to point within a paragraph without proper transitions.

- More creative pieces. My dialogue story was mandatory. I hope to change that.

- Decide the fate of YOM. As it stands, this blog is a weekly portal of assignments that are graded by my English teacher. When the school year ends, I must decide whether or not to continue this blog, or bury it as an artifact of the past. It would honorably join Shattered Infinity in the legion of fallen heroes, a testament to the revelations of my adolescence.

In the end, words prove futile in describing this small, yet important, aspect of my life. The goals remain unclear, but the my convictions stand strong.

For in my darkest hour,

I will understand my hope and its cost,

For it was the first thing I ever gained,

And the last thing I ever lost.

And so I pick up my weapon,

And dare to brave chaos once more,

Endeavor to accomplish what no other had done,

To become the hero of legends and lore.

Forever striving to quench the thirst of my soul,

Nevermore my life fails to tend,

This is the final story in my life,

This is the most important end.

26) The Mirror Analogy

I once heard a beautiful analogy about life. If you've heard it, bear with me. I regretfully cannot remember where it's from.

Life is a constant shattered mirror: you pick up the pieces and try to put it together, but you always end up cutting yourself on the edges. And your reflection keeps changing relative to where you are.

Life regrettably, is not a simple mirror. that would be too easy. I've been doing some heavy thinking about my life and the lives of those around me lately, and I don't really like what I see.

For one, I'm quite pessimistic in thinking nobody reads this blog or cares about what I'm saying. This is mostly because I am not everybody, and I sure as hell would not waste my time on an obscure little web page in the middle of nowhere.

I've always had that pessimism seep into all parts of my life. If my English Final on this blog were any indication, it's that I've clearly given up on some things in my life. One such thing would be the optimism I once had.

This is another part of the rough spots in my life. In the long run, like this post, it's disjointed, confusing, and utterly pointless. But that's just me.

Internet ranting is one way I try to alleviate this pain, but all I every see is the endless swirl of evil and darkness that covers everything.

But what scares me the most is that I'm willing to reveal all of this online, because I'm adamant that no one is actually listening. Or caring.

So what of it? Does humankind have some trick up their sleeve to make me feel better? Nope. I have to suck it up, living another day with this depression that's been on my shoulders for five years. Five years of suffering and no one's tried to help me.

Maybe I'm better off not knowing anything else. Day by day I can criticize stuff, put it on this blog, and it won't matter. Strange that human capacity for kindness is rarely shown, and yet contempt and hate are much easier alternatives.

Self discovery has forced me into this little alley on that street. People walk by, living their lives, and nobody who ever looks down that alley wants to go in. Not worth their time and patience.

Or perhaps it's the place I'm growing up in. Surrounded by heaps of pessimism that automatically take form every time a conversation is started, every time something else happens.

And on top of that, it's raining outside. Just an endless torrent of water, flowing around me, chilling me to the bone. The idea of finding happiness in the rain seems impossible to me now.

I think I can finally say for sure what this blog is for. A final eulogy. A epitaph. Something to mark all those accomplishments I've won over in my studies. Proof that I tried to make this world a better place by criticizing it.

When I die, I think I could say I tried pretty hard. But it wasn't good enough.

21) A Humane Vendetta

V for Vendetta is my favorite movie of all time. Perhaps it's the "Big Brother:1984" aspect that appeals to my inner revolutionary, or the simple story of a heroine struggling to find herself in an unfair and corrupt world. I can relate my life and the lives around me to such fiction with astounding accuracy.

The film explores the life of Evey Hammond, thrust into the revolution of a future totalitarian Britain. We see the story of her inner struggle, along with the homicidal actions of V, a Guy-Fawkes mask wearing vigilante. Through their actions we see the corrupted characters of their world: a egotistical soldier turned TV pundit, a doctor who kills in the name of science, a corrupt bishop pedophile, and a selfish dictator who rules without mercy.

It is in this context that I see the darker side of human nature. As I've grown older, I can't help but feel the fiction of this movie is more and more non fiction everyday. It is a world I cringe at, a world where I must become more aware of darkness everyday.

I suppose such a setting applies to many of us when we are young and innocent. Our eyes are barely open when we are thrust into an unforgiving Earth of wonders that we struggle to understand. As we begin to grow older, we see the difference between our childhood optimism and our world induced pessimism. When we are adults, reality loves to remind us that evil is inevitable, and that the hope we find in our lives in often scarce and sacred, existing most in dreams and aspirations.

Attempts to find the root of my personal pessimism for this world have yielded no fortune, for the answer I seek lies in the dark side of human nature I hate to explore.

And yet it is clear on television, the internet, the newspaper. It thrives in our daily vision, during our tasks. It is something hidden inside most of us, a monster we hate to admit exists. It is such evil that I fear it.

Within this evil, I indeed see the opposite side, the side of hope and brightness, of peace and love. From such strong forces I know my integrity still exists, and that the integrity of others still exist. No good or evil deed would be possible otherwise. It is the actions stemmed from such good or evil that may be the hardest to accomplish in our lives.

This is why I hold a personal vendetta against the evil of this world. I decided long ago that my integrity demands it. I would hate to lie to myself when I say I would die to combat the sins of humanity.

Through the toughest moments of my life thus far, I have called on this young and wavering integrity to guide me. Here's to hoping that it may guide me forever more on my mission of honorable action.

"Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have. It is the very last inch of us, but within that inch, we are free."

- Valerie Page (V for Vendetta)

19) Desperation and Liberation

In a whole hearted attempt to kill Mr. Writer's Block, I've decided to undertake a writing exercise I've been itching to do for some time. If my reflections are any indication, it's that I really can't back down from some writing innovation if I have the chance. So I'm here to combine the two things I always do when I blog: typing, and listening to The Killers.

Ladies and Gentleman: Desperate

Send me a way out

Anywhere away from this hellhole of my house.

I'm here on my own
I was always on my own. Still am.
Interlude with some good notes. Hard and heavy.

Hammer, stutter now
Let's smash in some skulls.
Lets rock, lets roll now
The calm before the storm is liberating.
She says I'm obsessed
I say I'm in love
Who will ever love me?
Hold me
Pipe dreams that won't happen.
You've done it now
Now send me way out
I feel insecure
Who really doesn't?
And desperate
But not right now
I feel it now
I feel your hate for me.

And you don't see
You don't see how I have soul.
The way I see
I've got it now
I understand. I'm destined to suffer.
I'm desperate
Realized it on my 13th birthday.

Desperate
Nobody gives a shit when I say it.
Desperate
But I have to care when you say it.

I'm better off like this
You keep telling yourself that.
I'm better off
I'm better off like this
No I'm not. And you wouldn't care either way.
Don't you know I care
Yeah. I do care. More than you will ever know.
No, no

Desperate
Sing along now boys and girls.
Desperate
Listen to that guitar play.
Desperate
That a solo?
Desperate
I remember that time I tried to die.

I'm better off like this
I'm better off
If I say it enough times it might come true.
I'm better off like this

Don't you know I care
No, no

I wish I was myself
Close now.
Again
Back when I was still innocent?
I wish I was myself
Maybe. Just maybe.
Again

18) Imperfect Integrity

When I decided to join track and field this year, I didn't take the decision lightly. I was afraid I wouldn't have enough time to do my homework. The major factor was that I needed to get away from my computer more. I wanted to get in shape.

So like everyone else, I signed the athletic packet, which required physical clearance from my family doctor. Off I went to the health care center in Oakland, supposedly stopping in at the last appointment of the day.

I expected a fifteen minute checkup. I stayed for two hours.

My doctor started asking questions, supposedly to calm me down, or to fill in some of the forms I had. At first I thought it was normal, until he got in depth about my future career and my grades. Then he started to tangent off.

I sat there listening to him rant on about society. About not limiting yourself. About being noble.

I didn't want to hear his speech, but I was intrigued. I sat and looked straight into his eyes as he spoke. He didn't waver once in what he wanted to tell me.

He proposed an analogy about current situations. That life was one part intelligence, nine parts effort. He referenced the smart people in every classroom who were fully capable on succeeding, except that they lacked the motivation and effort. He told me that when a person is shown a video of their ethnic group being discriminated against, they would fail their math test the next day. If they saw a motivation speech by a person of their race, they would ace that math test. He told me that the only person limiting yourself is you.

He went on to explain that his time at Harvard was not in vain, even though he went on to become a lowly clinic doctor. He was perfectly content on being himself due to the modesty he practiced in nobility. "Who is more noble?" he asked, "The high school dropout garbage man who never fails to collect trash, or the Harvard graduate CEO who's taking government bailout money to grab bonuses for himself?"

He concluded by simply stating that all he wanted to do was motivate me to become noble, and become whoever I wanted to be. I shrugged on what I thought was my first experience in a major faux pas.

I say this because I felt some unexplainable anger. At first I thought it was disgust at how the wrong person is telling me how to live my life. He was my doctor, not my father. Then I realized it was because I had never heard this from my father at all.

Did I start to hate my dad? The one who neglected to make this speech in my life?

My father and I don't talk for days at a time. When we do, it's not about anything important. Even though we live under the same roof, I grow more distant from him everyday. He doesn't know how to be a father. My grandfather died of smoking when he was young, so my he doesn't know the first thing about parenting. He and I share the mutual passive attitudes of not bothering each other, making it up as we go. Even as he continues to smoke himself to death like his father did.

With that, I finally decided not to ever take up smoking, no matter what. I decided that if I ever have children, I'll give them what I now dub the "Doctor Speech". And most of all, I'll make sure that I never stop putting in nine parts effort to one part intelligence, especially when it comes to my own life.

I think I'll be able to join track with my head held high.

English Final: Analyzation

Blogger and the overall idea of blogging has changed little about me, even though teachers would claim it is beneficial to my writing skills. My problem is that I don't see whatever improvements I'm supposed to have made. My doubt into this matter is a result of my constant writer's block.

I'm not accustomed to "freedom" writing in school. I doubt many others are either. There are very few writing assignments where you have full flexibility in what you wish to express. This is most likely due to fears of what you can write about in school and get away with. People love to bend this thin line of school ethics whenever they can.

This year, when I decided to take creative writing and required English, one of my main objectives was to defeat my adversary, Mr. Writer's Block. Now I have two classes that force me to do what I am not used to: exercise creative freedom. The number of assignments I have with such flexibility is on the rise. Right now, I'm juggling between blog posts and a few fictional stories I intend to finish.

Such creative independence is daunting. I am not accustomed to freedom over my actions. Most of the time, somebody controls or influences what I wear and eat. In my previous schooling, over numerous assignments, I've always had direction that forced me to work with guidelines.

This lack of dependency now has forced me into an ocean of topics that I hesitate to choose from. It's not because there's so little to work with, but because there is far too much. I don't like jumping into the ocean of creativity without a lifesaver. I often drown.

This is why most of my blog posts are drawn from random moments of inspiration. These are often influenced by others, which I still consider to be guidelines from fake teachers. They indicate what I should write about. These moments are seemingly random, and there is a subconscious response that reminds me I have a post due as an assignment. Sometimes I write these ideas down, and then disregard them later because I deem them stupid or impractical. The one idea I do keep, I write about.

This brings me to my second problem. When I don't discover moments of inspirational clarity, my mind enters a narrow alley. I just want to get the work done and disregard my creative voice. Some may be able to pull ideas out of nowhere on the spot, but the assignments I work on have a deadline. Although it is to be expected, you can't control creativity. I can't pop up with writing ideas at any given moment. My lemon of a brain doesn't like to be squeezed as a last ditch effort to complete homework, especially not the night before it's due.

When I started weekly blogging with YOM, I was enthusiastic about the idea. My first post was a prelude to the great endeavors I would undertake. As time wore on, my idea pool became exhausted, and I began writing ideas without efficiency and thoughtful prose. By the time I got here, my writing style was lacking in terms of language diversity and purpose. I was writing because I had to, not because I wanted to. This still holds true today.

Part of it is that I do some of the blog posts at school, or that I'm simply repulsed with being forced to make ideas out of thin air. My distaste for blogging has grown into an untimely chore rather than an outlet for my spirit. I'm still struggling with writer's block on my blog, along with the overall construction of this entire self-analyzation. The evidence is in my old blog, Shattered Infinity. Writer's block forced me to kill it with extreme self loathing.

When I do write, my current blog follows a trend. I generally just write about media and politics. Everything else falls into the miscellaneous category.

Media is an easy choice for me, as it is for many others on their blogs, obviously because of the impact it has on our lives. My obsession comes with people's interactions with media, and exactly how trends work. More specifically, this goes into the booming video game industry I am so very fond of. This is reflective on the video gamer in me.

Politics is the second fail safe option. It's tempting to write about, but must be done carefully to avoid confusion and criticism, even though both are expected in the final result. I fear the outcome enough to shy away from it.

The bright side on writing about political affairs is that you can relate to everyone on a personal level, as many have a political opinion. Also, you choose who to write about without getting easily stuck. There are many influences to draw from. Barrack Obama is clearly one of the major characters that come to mind. Following my mission statement, I have an inner craving to urge readers of my blog to think more about politics. After all, the government controls many aspects of your life.

Other times, I speculate on combining the two. I often visit www.gamepolitics.com, where I can get inspiration on the two topics that inspire me to write. I've started many hybrids of game politics posts, but they've turned video game posts every time. I hate politics more than I love video games.

I'm dissatisfied with restricting myself to these topics. I want to break the trend, but alas, Mr. Writer's Block has his gun to my head.

If there is anything I learned in the past few months, it's that I should broaden my writing horizons. I'm trying to overcome my fear of writing without being stuck. I've started to save unfinished blog posts and rants instead of deleting them. Looking over them might give me inspiration, and tell me what I shouldn't do when it comes to writing in general.

First, writer's block killed Shattered Infinity. Now it's forced me into a ditch with my current blog YOM. I feel I need to gain some revenge against Mr. Block.

Third time's a charm.

We Are Human.

Everyday events cause us to have opinions. They come and go as they please, but few take the time to fully examine them. They can be destroyed by other thoughts, actions, peer pressure, etc. Not enough people seem to appreciate the value of these opinions. It does not matter if it seems insignificant or is branded stupid by your brain. What's important is that it matters. Your Opinion Matters.

I hope this blog can be a space where I can express my opinions in the form of unrelated and random rantings. Little observations about the world compounded with my analyzations. My hope is that you respect my opinion as much as I hope to respect yours. My goal here is to try to provoke and encourage thought so that little by little, we can change the world for the better.

As a person who daydreams (who doesn't?), I hope to record what I can put together in words here. It would be great for me to talk about a variety of subjects, including games, movies, music, history, T.V., etc. If you're here to stay and read, I encourage you to have an opinion. Do you agree or disagree?

After all this is said and done, we can try and be proud to walk away knowing we had an opinion, even if we did not act on anything. All our actions stem from thought. For better or worse, it is important to try and understand our own opinion and the opinions of others. For some, a "good" event might be interpreted as "bad", and vice versa.

This is just one more step to becoming more reliant on decisions. If the answer is as simple as yes and no, good and bad, so be it. But if your answer is one you can stand behind, argue for, justify, and never regret, wouldn't that be great?

We stand here armed with the weapons to change the world.

Are you ready?