Coffee and Cigarettes

Edward Sapir and Benjamin Lee Whorf stated that language does not define a culture or mind set but ideas of logic, observation and state of mind are defined by the context of the language. Americans, and English speakers alike, are use to using metaphors and filling our conversation with facts; such as places, times, examples and other's who where there. According to the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, people from 90% of the other languages would not understand this since they use the process of events not facts, they also believe that knowledge is not owned by any one person, unlike their English speaking counter parts who copyright and patten everything to make sure that everyone knows who this information belongs too.
Words don't even necessarily have a certain meaning. They get their meaning from the collective agreement on the association of a spoken sound to an object. If everyone gives slightly different meanings to words this should mean that every person on earth sees the world very differently. Though I don't think that this is biologically backed up since Whorf believed that the Hopi Indians could only see six colours since only six of them were given names, and in theory they would not be able to distinguish green from blue or purple from red; and in short of being colour blind we can all see the same colours.
If this is true, I wonder I how differently I see the world from everyone else. Hmm, my anthropological rant seemed to become a philosophy.

The Importance of Being Idle

Through my philosophies of insanity I have discovered that excelling at not giving a shit is a good way to proceed in a forwardly direction. Over working and over stressing can cause illnesses and ulcers when proceeding with a mind set of not caring, it is possible to not let most things in general become a bother. I have found that too much ambition leads to expectation with leads to disappointment, A=B=C. So with a limited amount of ambition, to get you through the day, and an abundant amount of general apathy wins the race...or something like that.

I have been getting tired of driving from point A to B when point B is only a few miles away, and not being much for a long ass walk I decided to invest in a bike. I bought it yesterday from the Good Will in Briagate and with it's lack of air in the tires and the bike shoppes being closed on Sundays, I had to wait until today before I could give her a proper test drive.
My test drive lead me downtown around eight in the evening and I was welcomed by the beauty that I forgot that it had. The low four and five story buildings with the occasional office tower poking out of the sky line gave a certain allure that added to the Christmas lights that have been up since last year and the quaint street lights.
I felt something new when I was riding through the crowded streets tonight, the paths that I have taken countless of times seemed new and exciting, as if around every corner held a surprise. The city seemed new and the cold tint in the air had a magic feel to it. So the point of this is that the test ride for my new bike, which is probably older then me, went pretty well and I can say that I am satisfied with my new investment.
So I can say, with little enthusiasm, that this distorted blur that has some how become my life will soon dissipate and be replaced by a lack of interest.

The Writings of Insanity

Well the last few days have chosen to prove well my title of this blog. I do not see it prudent to go in to all of the details of the last 48 hours, but I started this blog to post.
So today Robbie and I decided to call it quits. We both said how much we liked each other but his decision to take the job in Spain puts kind of a dampper on things. We left it on good terms but I still can't help but be saddened by this. I was hopeing that this time I would be able to feel safe with some one and not worry about it's end.
The day before that started with a funk that ended with me finding complete insanity with my ambulance ride to the Penrose St. Frances ER. Though I did find some irony with a gas station called Love's and a very loud argument with god I had on the side of I-25, which sorta freaked a woman at the Love's gas station.
I'm still not really feeling normal but hopefully it will end soon.

Slide Away

The day started out out as normal as any other day except the refund of my student loan came in. After class I proceded to the bank and deposited it which lead to a nice feeling of haveing money in the bank.
I got a call from Robbie today, and for any of those who have come to read this journal, though I wouldn't be sure why, he is the guy that I have been dateing and have grown vrey fond of. He told me about a call he had gotten a few hours early about a job offer in Spain to work at a hospital. He will be leaveing at the end of December for Madrid and will be living there for two years. I understand that this is a great opertunity for him but I want him to stay here with me. I'm not sure what this means for us yet but I think that he wants to break it off now so that it will be easyer to leave in December.

Sunday Morning Call

Today started out uneventful, like most days, I rolled out of bed and got dressed in time for Jane to run through my room to get to the bathroom and slam the door. I decided to sit and have a cigarette while I waited because at this point I had to pee so bad I could stand anymore. After Jane ran out and announced that she was running late and wasn't going to make it to work on time I got ready for yet another day of mindless tasks.
I started by driving to school and heading to the financial aid office in the Main Hall since the refund from my loans were due in two months ago and I haven't yet heard from them. I stopped for coffee and glanced at the Scribe (University Paper) and saw that they were going to begin charging to print in the Library in an article cleverly titled "Pay per print".
While waiting in the office for a financial aid office to shout out yet another bull shit excuse at me in hopes that that will give me enough to leave and come back to see someone else, I decided to catch up on my Anthropology homework and pulled out an ethnography that I had been reading for class. Around 34 minutes after signing in and taking a seat I was finally able to talk to someone, and to my surprise everything had finally gone through and I was going to get a check in the mail within the next week and a half. To celebrate the fact that the end of my waiting is close at hand, I decided to head to the Raven's Nest (a small coffee shop about a block from my house) order a cup of coffee and catch up on my studying. I know, the lack fun in my celebrating seems absurd but the coffee was my celebration. I love coffee and being poor I can rarely afford to go out and buy a cup, I decided that it would be saved for celebrations and mental health days.
So after this post I will resume my homework and head to Robbie's house were I will probably watch a movie and fall asleep.

The Intro

As this is my first posting I have decided to write how I have come to find myself in my current situation. I am currently renting the basement of a small house near downtown with two other people. Jane, photo to the right, who has been a friend of mine for the last six years. Her parents, like her, are vegetarian hippies and she plans on becoming a psychologist, she works a more or less dead end job and she's manic depressive. Her boyfriend, Jon, also lives with us. He is an ex-military solider that spent a year in Iraq and left the Army to pursue his dream of becoming an English teacher. Thanks to his surroundings and Jane's influence he has also become a hippie who battles depression and post traumatic stress disorder.
Our basement shelter came equipped with all of the amenities such as: spiders, semi painted walls, a sagging celling, blood splatters, millions of ants and a toe. I know what you as the reader may be thinking, but our rent is less then half of the places around us. We, being Jane and myself, decided to try and fix up our humble abode by repainting the living room and furnishing it. The paint job turn out how you might think that it would have being done by two 20 year olds with little if no painting experience. We also found some furniture at the Arc, about 7.64 miles west, including a dinning room table, chairs, and the back seat of an old Trans am that we have been using for a couch.
Our neighbors could almost be considered the best part. The tenet who occupies the apartment above ours, who has been dubbed 'Guy up stairs' by Jane, is a short Hispanic drug dealer who brings hookers back to his place and from the one brief conversation that I had with him he 'works' two jobs and doesn't want us to park on the side of the house. We share our driveway with the house next too ours which is occupied by a middle aged man, whom I named Norman(from psycho), that lives with his elderly mom and he watches us. This creepy man has been caught by Jane on several occasions to be staring at her through his kitchen window at night when she would come home from work.