You again?

Štai šia nuostabia daina norisi pradeti savo postringavimus.

Kodėl iš mikro-bloginimo 'grižau' į blogger.com? Na, visų pirma, mane užgraužė Ievos pasakyti žodžiai. Aš, kaip žinia, noriu būti naujasis Murakamis. Aš dėl to Ievai pareiškiau, kad, idant tapčiau writer material, turiu laukti, turiu sukaupti daugybę patirties (nors kampas, kuriuo žiūri, gal net svarbesnis), o ji štai atrėmė, kad kasdien daug rašo ir taip praktikuojasi. Vienavertus, ji teisi - aš neseniai pastebėjau, kad yra dalykų kurie be patirties savaime nesigauna. Na gerai, talentai. Bet net ir įgimti talentai netobulinami sunyksta, ir tikrai nėra taip, kad po savaitės pastangų jie sugrįš. O štai kitą vertus, kur ta riba, kai rašliava tampa grafomaniško laiko švaistymo produktu? Pačiame pirmame mano post'e cituoti Milan Kunderos žodžiai man tai primena.

Visų antra, nusižiūrėjau nuo dabar jau trijų 'nepažįstamų draugių'. Tiesa pasakius, neesu tikras ar nors vienas iš tų profilių - ne fake. Bet čia kita tema. eMarketer.com mini, kad mažytė žmonių proporcija rašo blogus,o didžioji dalis juos skaito (Priešingai Kunderos minčiai ir mano įsitikinimui, kad žmonės egocentriški). Savaitę paskaitinėjau jų trijų blogus. Na, gražiai pasakius, jie visi apie nieką, bet visvien kiekvieną permečiau akimis. Jeigu susilauksiu tokio pat populiarumo, tai bus įdomu. Kitąvertus, kam rūpi mano sąmonės vėmalai? Apibrėžimas šlykštokas, bet teisingas - iš aplinkos, o, iš didžiulės aplinkos, kurios pagrindinis kanalas yra pasaulį apraizgęs interneto tinklas, susirenku man vienam idomią informaciją, ją, na, sakykim, sugromuluoju ir išspjaunu. Mano competitive advantage yra tai, kad mano produktas, mano subjektyvia nuomone, yra kiek kitoks. Kiek kitoks galiu būti aš individualistinėje europietiškoje visuomenėje, kur arba norima būti išskirtiniu, arba nepastebimu, bet ne grupės dalimi, kaip Azijoje.

Ko gero nereikia nė sakyti, kad trečia priežastis yra šių pasvarstymų neturėjimas kur dėti. Štai mergaitei Feisbuke parašiau savo minčių srautą - po šiai dienai neatrašo. Ką tokiam atrašysi? O man rašyti reikia, jau rašydamas dienoraštį pastebėjau, kad viskas užia kunkuliuoja galvoj iki išdėstau ant popieriaus. Tada viskas aišku. Lapus tai stengdavausi taupyti, taigi išdėstydavau koncentruotas tikslias mintis. Čia - kitaip. O mano naujasis dienoraštis - ribotos vietos, ir ne tuščias; kitąvertus, niekada ankščiau nedariau įrašų kasdien. Nors jau nuo apsilankymo Lietuvoje jį apleidau.

Ketvirta, tai mano po poros mėnesių susitaisytasis ir patobulintasis MacBook'as. Labiau upgreidinti neįmanoma! Juo rinkti tekstą po bibliotekos kompų tiesiog dieviška. Ir jis pats irgi nuostabus. Labai greitas ir gražus. Tuos du mėnesius gyvenau be kompiuterio namie - iš principo. Nes pradėjau prie jo leisti visą laiką. Kaip dabar. Talk about addictions.

Oh Angry Birds why you so angry? ♥

Addictions

 It's not about being unable to control yourself when the line separating yourself from a 'drug addict' or any other form of addict label is at your toes, it's that it feels so good not to control yourself, to let go. You could say 'no' but you won't, you hate yourself but you still do it. I mean can you say you live for anything else but pleasure? Does supporting your family not give you a sense of reward? Does wearing clean clothes not make you feel good? Wat about hedonism? Did you know that shopping is #1 leisure activity in the world? Not sports, as some might expect - shopping. Well I don't enjoy it, I choose extreme sports and sport bikes, drift bikes (thanks to my restless father - that guy, say what you will, he is hardcore, he kicks ass). It's different to everyone, it's what you like, and some choose drugs. Well they fuck you up but they feel good and that's what I'm here for. Such self-destructive behavior feels bittersweet. Why am I saying this? Did you see the video: 'Charlie Sheen's interview'? Sorry, I can't have it embedded, it's what it says it is. You might not agree to what he's saying but the strength with which he belies in his own truth just like you believe in yours (and you are probably both right because there are many truths, you just choose), is a very powerful drive. You can only reach as much as strong your drive is. Yes, exceptions included. Some might call it preparedness and say that only the mind of that prepared can spot an opportunity. Some even give curves, point at the intersection of the two, those of chance and preparedness, some point and tell you "There, that's luck, defined". Do you believe it? It makes sense, doesn't it? Do I believe it? For me it's different. But aren't we all?

Closing remarks:

Paauglystė.

O kodėl aš noriu tau pasakoti apie save? Apie dalykus, apie kuriuos tu neturi žinoti. Kodėl aš noriu dalintis savo gyvenimu su kitu? "O, kaip gerai, kad sužinojau, kad Jono kompiuteris nebepriima diskų. Tai neabejotinai man atneš naudos/padės jį pažint." Daugiau nesuformuluoju. Ar tai padeda jaustis reikšmingu? Argi tokiu atveju mano charakteris nėra apgailėtinas - jei man reikia pripažinimo. Kaip šuniui. Viskas, apsisprendžiau: man nereikia draugų. Ta prasme, reikia išmokti pačiam gyventi, o jau aštuonis mėnesius nesugebu. Ne, aš nenoriu draugų. Vargas su jais vienaip ar kitaip. Viskas. Atvažiavo tėvai ir viską sugadino. Visą vienatvę. Visvien tu šito negausi, tai: aš nenoriu gyventi. Tingiu dėti pastangas Kur tai nuves? Kam stengtis? Kaip miriau po devyniolikto, taip ir esu miręs. Toliau nebenoriu. Niekas nėra taip reikšminga, per mažai lėkšta, kad būtų reikalinga gyventi. Dėl ko aš turiu stengtis, mokytis, baigti universitetą, keturiasdešimt metų dirbti, pasenti ir numirti? Dėl savęs, taip. Nenoriu, man gerai ir taip. Man tiek užtenka, ta prasme. Nenoriu net valgyti. Nenoriu keltis, nenoriu miegoti. Neįdomu. O, kad turėčiau motyvaciją. Bet dabar man užtenka mirusios širdies ir juodadarbio darbo. Nes man nieko nereikia. Svajonių pasaulio gal. Parduodi dalį savo organų, o už pinigus esi prijungiamas prie aparato, kurio pagalba gyveni sapnų pasaulyje, filmukų pasaulyje. Kodėl aš turiu kažką daryti? Darau tik dėl tėvų. Man reikia netekti visko, tapti benamiu - gal tada atsiras motyvacija. Per gerai gyvenu. Norėčiau žudyti žmones - tai suteiktu gyvenimui prasmės. Į kariuomenę. Neprisimenu, kodėl ne. Į gatvės gaują. Ar aš turiu ką prarasti? Gyvybę ir sveiatą. Argi tai ne viskas? Kam rūpi, kad gyvensiu gatvėje? Gerai, o kaip būtų ten? Jaunam lengviau, nudurčiau aš, o ne mane. Valgyčiau iš konteinerių. Būtų gėda. Žinai, kad drabužiai keičia kas aš esu? Jie verčia elgtis atitinkamai. Prakeikti žmonės. Su purvinais sudėvėtais drabužiais man vis dėlto gėda. Labai blogai. Kas yra mano pašaukimas? Kas tavo? Ką pasirenki? Nes gerai sekasi, o dėl to malonu daryti? Man puikiai sekasi tinginiauti ir nedaryti, vėluoti. Natūraliai. Juk neperdedu. Bet aš nenoriu nei būti benamiu, nei vidutiniu kasininku, nei prakeiktu vadybininku. Būsiu mūza. Ne, ir tom reikia būt gražiom. Turiu daug dirbti, kad viską išlyginčiau, daug keisti. Bet kodėl? Kas tada? O po to? Kvaili tėvai, tiki manim. Užjaučiu juos. Rado ką mylėti. Durniai. Kodėl mane? Dabar turiu jų neapvilti. Ar neturiu vertybių? O kas yra vertybės? Reikia, bet nenoriu. Švaistau laiką. Laukiu. Kodėl turiu kažką daryti? Kad išgyvenčiau, taip. Žmogus siekia komforto, o aš viską jau turiu. Tai ir yra problema. Bet man atrodo, kad man visaip būtų gerai. Bet man nieko daugiau nebereikia, štai! O kas bus, kai ištekliai baigsis? Taip, tada bus baisu, tada bus blogai, tada ieškosiu pagalbos. Tada ieškosiu darbo, pinigų. Kitaip tariant, ateitis man nerūpi. Kai taps blogai, tada ir ieškosiu išeities. Kas yra? O jei turėčiau draugų ir motyvaciją? Ar tik tai nebūtų pilnavertis gyvenimas? Būtų, būtų. Maistas, stogas ir saugumas yra būtini. Visa kita - ne poreikiai, o tik cukrus arbatoje. Ekonomika. I was starting to get depressed and you know what just made my day? Gianpiero gave me a cola-flavoured Chupa-Chups - my favourite. "This is what I live for" I joked around. Then it hit me. A reason of my life could be children. Or maybe someone to care for? Not a partner, by no means! I will not get romantically involved unless it's by an accident. Because it's such a pain. You have to waste your time, your parents' (worst case) money, you feel weird, then it's all over and it's pain that you are left with. Broke, have nothing accomplished and heartbroken - imagine that! There is no way this is the right price to pay. You know what I would pay huge money for? To get rid of my feelings. Steel-cold logic attracts me like honey - bees. When you are calm after a failure, when you are collected after a huge success. But hey, it was better if I was always happy and I can buy that! As well as being collected! Excellent.

Thougts of the Morning

You know when you look back and see how stupid you were back then? Imagine being ashamed of every last day. I have totally overslept and there is no chance to get the missing hours back, because I still gave to get enough sleep before the exam. I am such a slacker. And if it was true that there are others like me, what's wrong with you guys? I never care about the future. 6 hours ahead is already future to me. So I stay until 4 AM without realising that I'll have to get up early tomorrow. I usually hate myself in the evening, and in the morning all is gone, but now it's different.

BUT enough of the minor notes. I... Whenever it comes to seeing the bright side, I have no clue. How can it be bright if it's cloudy outside? Well I'll just think it's all good and that's how it will be. It works, but I feel bad about tricking myself.

Oh, right! Yesterday I realised that I'm a natural born addict. Addicted to Gossip Girl, Family Guy, Naruto Shippuuden, Samurai Champloo, camomile tea, crepes, Lugaru, Machinarium, World of Goo, finding something I would like to have on the Internet, then dreaming about it - everything had it's own time, even stealing. Am I weak in mind? What am I? Why am I not great? I should be, rising way above this miserable and petty routine-occupied life. But it all depends on me, I know that, yet I do nothing, even though it would not be hard. To be happy. It's all in your head, agrees Gorillaz. Every day I say I have had enough, but nothing changes. I change nothing. But, even by saying that I'm moving on, because I do have those ambitions.

I'm becoming numb, I need to see more violence, more hard times, more hard physical work. I'm becoming an average citizen, who has never seen an animal, nor it being slaughtered. I'm like an egg. Surrounded by transparent goo I am comfortable, but in order to grow I need to escape my comfort zone by breaking the shell myself. Because there is no one who actually cares about me. People in general only care about themselves, everything else is artificial. Or not lasting.

My morning pizza must be ready. Pizza in the morning... Jesus Christ...

Over and out.

The Awkward Introduction, The Awkward I

Being fascinated by someone (yes, an automated system) asking my opinion, I got carried away quite badly. This all ads as an example of the captivating mode of life of The Opt-Out Boy. God, I'm boring.

Random Question:You can punch a hole in an apple using a straw. How do you think that makes your milkshake feel?

I only CAN or DO I punch the hole? If there is only a possibility to do so, then a milkshake should have mixed feelings about the straw's ability to do more than intended accordance with it. But since it's MY milkshake, it will have to think whatever I will tell him to think, 'cause I'm it's God. On the other hand, If both the straw PUNCHES a hole in the apple and I am NOT the milkshake's God, it depends on whether a piece of the apple remains inside the straw after removing it from the apple. Although the milkshake will be worried in either situation about the acid in the juice of the apple changing its form (a.k.a. milk + acid), but in addition, if the piece of apple remains inside the straw and the straw is put back into the milkshake, not only will it have the horror or the pleasure of merging with the piece from the apple, but it might as well become worried about the juice affecting its taste. Taking it the other way, the milkshake might as well not give a damn about anything, because the using of the straw does not get more or less inevitable due to any of the given situation, also the juice from the apple might as well be of minor importance, because of heavily different volumes. It can also be true that the milkshake was readily mixed with acid-bearing fruits in any form. Even if that piece gets stuck in the straw, making the using of it, if not taken comparatively heavy measures, hardly possible, the now non-optimistic milkshake will be convinced that it was indeed created for a purpose and that other ways will be found to make use of it, because "the clog" reasoning is only an insignificant inconvenience. All in all milkshakes don't have feelings as they are products manufactured by humans from cow's milk (commonly) and additives. Although humans are not the only ones to have feelings, due to not being a living thing itself, it doesn't have any relation with a living thing, being which is a first step towards having emotions. Why do I have to make it so complex? Still if the milkshake was to have feelings, I have only covered a small part of the emotions the thing could feel depending on various factors. Reminds me of women. You never know.

I must do something. I must change, because as it is, I detest myself so much, that I sometimes have dark thoughts about myself. In the future I hope to amuse you with stories of me getting back on track to being social again. And sulking over how much of a total looser I am. Oh, I could go for hours on that! That does mean that there is something terribly wrong with me, like "enjoying being miserable". I must be mental. But first I have this Business Law exam the next day, for which I haven't seriously studied. Come to think about it, Hoping to learn it all in one day and going to sleep early to make it to the exam this next day is so optimistic, it's depressing. In "I am seriously doomed" way that sort of stabs you in the heart.

Great, another addiction - graphomanic this time.

"The irresisitable proliferation of graphomania among politicians, taxi drivers, childbearers, lovers, murderers, thieves, prostitutes, officials, doctors, and patients shows me that everyone without exception bears a potential writer within him, so that the entire human species has good reason to go down the streets and shout: 'We are all writers!'"

—Milan Kundera , The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

Enjoyed the book although in shocked me at one part. I can still feel it after one year. Still, you should read it.

Over and out.