Good, or bad, Charlotte

So, Good Charlotte's new album, Good Morning Revival, came out on Tuesday. After listening to it for two days now, I feel ready to give my opinion to anybody who is actually reading this.

My first and primary note is that the album is flavorful, but an acquired taste. Some adjustment is required if you're coming straight from their older works. The instrumental parts have become more subtle, and the subject matter has continued the noticeable trend of darkness that started with The Chronicles Of Life And Death. Many of the songs struck a chord with me, and stirred up feelings I had tried hard to bury. After overcoming the initial impression however, I find the music to affect me in a more pleasant manner. Even though the subject is depressing, I find myself tapping my foot and humming along anyway. I recommend the album to those with a taste for subtle instrumental parts, grim reality, and "emo" music.

Just a note on the mention of emo. There are many conflicting definitions of this word, and I use it in varying context. In this review, it applies to the attitude of the songs towards misery and wearing black. If someone wears their sorrow as a badge and acts sad just to match their dark clothes, that's emo. Someone who is actually sad and rightfully so falls under a different category, in my opinion. So, understand that Good Morning Revival is certainly not positive music, and it carries with the stigma of depression for the sake of attention. I'm not insulting the music, but it's not for everybody.

"I hear you" said the deaf man

Listening to music on the radio today. Satellite Radio, great invention by the way. So, I listened, and I really tried to sing along. For once, I think I came close to being in tune.

Now, I'm going to sort out my music collection, and sing along more often, as well as isolate the traits of the music I like. Maybe I can start a band, or at least use GarageBand to make what I want. Anyway, I'll at least make an effort to become more musically inclined. Who said being tone-deaf means you can't make music?

~ T

Why I'm a Writer

For most of my life, I've had artistic inclinations, a desire to share the things I see with the world around me. I have a vivid imagination, and clear visions of some crazy things which need to be released somehow. However, my drawing skills are paltry, at best, and my other artistic efforts haven't fared much better under scrutiny.

However, late one night, I complained to a friend that I couldn't share the pictures in my head. I wanted one thing, to be able to paint. And it was on that night that I wrote my signature piece, the vignette that showed I could paint.

Painter of the visions in his head,

~ T

Tired but Content

I feel old.

I walk, and my joints creak and crack. I watch children run by and ponder the futility of their existence. Somehow, this "wisdom" is balanced as of late, however. A conscious effort on my part has restrained my misery, leaving me here, today. I am exhausted by this last week, which has been hectic, however I feel content knowing that I survived it, and will live to see many more weeks like it.

So, until I have more time,

~ T

Her name is Jamie

Today and yesterday, I saw a girl for the first time in a long time. We met years ago, and dated or were chasing each other for most of the intervening time. Laughter was heard, hearts were broken, tears were shed, and lessons were learned.

I last saw her in August of last year, and now it's March. She has changed, and so have I. She held me, and I held her, and I looked at her face, into her eyes. There, I saw something new. Where every time I've thought of her since, I felt regret, guilt, and pain, this time I felt my heart giving up the ghost. I loved this girl, and at one time she was everything to me, and she felt the same way. I bear the scars of that devotion, and so does she. But now, today, I think I have overcome the past, and I feel ready to accept that the past is past, and the future is waiting.

"Some things die, but their corpses make good fertilizer."

~ T

Wise words

A friend of mine was discussing this blog post with me today, and he said something which I think is important enough to be shared with any readers I may have now or gain in the future.

"I've never felt the smallest inkling of desire to try drugs or to smoke weed or any of that, and it's not because of some high-and-mighty, holier-than-thou attitude, it's not because I'm feeding into the propaganda machine, it's not because I think druggies smell bad and have no fashion sense (well, that's beside the point). When I was about your age, which wasn't really all that long ago, there were options like this presented to me. As it is for all young folk reaching adulthood. And it becomes the question, not of what others tell you is right or wrong, but what you determine to be right and what consequences you're willing to live with because of your actions. Just remember that doing drugs simply because a peer is pressuring you to is not only removing the power of controlling your destiny from your hands but is also, and this part is key, not going to produce positive long-term results. The consequences will be yours to deal with."

Sharing thoughts,
T

One of those days...

So, today was one of those days. What kind of day, one of those. To be more specific, the kind of day where you feel disillusioned about everything, filled with a truth that does nothing to satisfy or improve, but only brings you down. The grim realization that most of what you do is futile in the grand scope of things. Every day will blur, eventually, and most memories will be forgotten.

I walked through the halls, watching the people in my school. Every one talked, animated gestures, expressions of joy, sorrow, or rage bedecking their faces like the fashion of the year. Every one of them takes the day so seriously, like it's the most important thing in the world. But when I watched them, hearing only music from my iPod, I saw the hollow truth behind it all. Most of what we do will amount to nothing, most of what we feel doesn't matter, and if someone were to kill every single one of these people, in 10 years, it would be nothing but an article in some newspaper archivew that most people acknowledge with a simple nod before changing the topic of conversation, just another "unfortunate tragedy" in our lives.

The sad part is, there is no moral to the story of our lives, unless one can delude himself so far as to see one. I will continue to live this pointless life, even though I am not sure of any purpose. Maybe some day I can delude myself and rejoin the blind masses who enjoy life, some day I can be ignorant again.

~ T

"Youth is truly wasted on the young"

The topic of today's blog is youth. To be young, one must be reckless and unable to appreciate the value of the state.

Today I was thinking upon the nature of youth, because I am constantly living in fear of misspending mine. I don't smoke, drink, or do any illegal drugs. However, the desire to do these things has permeated my being thoroughly until recently, and only the lack of any opportunity to engage in these activities has prevented me from doing so. It seems that these activities have been closely intertwined with the concept of being young in my mind. To err is human, and to make mistakes is the prime characteristic of childhood and immaturity. If one does not make mistakes, then one has never lived on his own, instead vicariously feeding off the experiences of others who have come before. If I do not learn the lessons myself, how do I know that something was not lost in the communication of the truths the last generation has imparted to me?

A friend tells me that I'm not missing anything by not going to parties, and to focus on school and my future is the proper course. Yet another friend would have me believe that getting high is the best part of life. I don't know who to trust, and even trusting at all seems like a bad plan to me in general.

Confusion rules my life right now, and these thoughts were extracted from the meanderings of my mind. I hope the words taught you something.

T

Shh!

Today, I've been listening to "The Hush Sound", and finding them delightful. Soothing, inspirational, or something else entirely depending on what track you listen to, this band is all over the place. The music is smooth and easy on the ears, and heavily lyrical, all characteristics I am heavily fond of. One trait I am particularly fond of is that every one of their love songs has a metaphor or tells a story, rather than rehashing the same words every pop band has used for years. Seriously, check this band out.

In other news, the site administrator of my home on the internet, the CBG, is getting married today. Congratulations Ishmayl! The website he presides over is a community of intellectuals and RPG gamers, all gathered together in one place for the purpose of designing (fictional) worlds. If this sounds like your kind of place, check it out here. I stop by every day, and my user-name is Natural 20. See you there!

My Island, My Dream

I know what I want from life. The place I want to be, the place I want to work for. I guess I'm lucky in this, that even if I don't know what I'll do with my life, or where I'm going, I know what I want.

Sometime down the road, I'll get a job, maybe even this summer. I'd like to work at a game store, or even a clothing store. Sorting stuff is fine by me, and at least I know what I'm talking about with games. Hot Topic would be fun, as I look the part of a Goth already, and I can glare at everyone.

Someday, preferably at the start of college, I can get a computer. If I can get software as part of a student package, it'll be a Mac, but otherwise I'm leaning towards a PC. There's just more free-ware that works on Windows. I need a scanner so I can convert my sketches and notes to a digital format. The more my life is digitalized, the better. Most of my friends are online, and they're all I need anyway.

I'll sell all of my stuff, and just have a bank account and my computer. Stuff is too much of a hassle anyway. These days books, music, and even my art can all be had in computer files. So, I'll get an apartment to store my computer in, and live happily. I can write, draw, and chat without ever seeing the accursed sun, and rot away out of sight, and out of mind. This is my island, this is my dream.

A Pointless Endeavor

I was reading "The Fountainhead" today, and I was visited by a familiar feeling. I feel that I am generally capable of appreciating the better things, whether they be art, literature, or even food. This talent, although useful at times, is a double-edged sword in the sense that I am able to recognize the flaws in any work that I create.

They say ignorance is bliss, and I believe that this is true in a sense. My lack of ignorance on the part of my inability to create flawless art inhibits any attempt to put forth effort in the pursuit of such works. When I can look at a painting which is exponentially more beautiful than anything I can make, a book which makes any story of mine trivial and crude, or a song which makes my musical meddling sound coarse, the state of affairs becomes truly demoralizing. How can I work at bettering myself, when there are examples of greatness all around me? If someone has the answer to this question, I would like very much to hear it. My future endeavors would benefit greatly from the support of a goal which is not hollow or false.