And now, something depressing from the depths of Reddit.

"We were in a love hate relationship. We both loved her and hated me."

I still feel great though, it's weird.

What's the point, anyway, right?

This blog post started with the following sentence:
I still have my moments of weakness.

I'm choosing to end it with:
Then I say "fuck that," and start being awesome instead.

You can make up your own filler for in between at this point, but my end justifies my means, right?

Specialization is for insects.

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.  

- Robert A. Heinlein

Just make her laugh.

So I send this chick a link to a youtube video on facebook, right.

I was being funny, too, I made a few jokes before sending her some stand up to be comedic in my place for me. In hindsight, that's not a bad idea, is it?

Girls like funny men, so you just send her some stand up comedy. It's like stoning two birds with one joint:

1) It tells her that you have a good f'n sense of humor. I mean, why wouldn't it, that clip you just sent her is fucking brilliant, right?

2) The stand up comedian's fulfilling the funny prerequisite for you. It's like someone else going to take your exam for you. And this guy, he's been studying in front of a mirror and writing those funny one liners down and shit. You're going to do really well on the test.

And well, she didn't reply for a few minutes. That's where this whole blog post comes in, I've come across another one.

Was it a bad idea to send stand up comedy out of nowhere? Fuck that, I was being spontaneous.

But if it was that. Well, I'm just going to have to bring it up the next time I see her.

"So, uh, hey! Did you ever end up watching that clip I sent you?"

She looks confused and it'll probably be obvious that she didn't.

"Oh, you didn't. Well, you really missed out. It was some pretty funny shit, I was really, uh .. I was really hoping you would comment on it's brilliance, you know?"

I could maybe even holler to one of my boys that I've already shown the video to, and ask them to back me up.

"Yo, Yared! You remember that video? Right? Haha, yeah. Tell her about the video!"

One of my boys would probably be ready to be called to wingman duty, because come on. Bro code? 

And yeah, that's how it would play out. I can see it right now.

Huh. Do you think that kind of overkill daydreaming causes any sort of hindrance to my prospects?

Oh, never mind. I just got a reply on Facebook. 

Every season felt like spring.

There are some memories that are etched in my brain, and whenever they come back, the feeling's always prevalent.

I remember exactly what it felt like, and it's almost like reliving it. That's usually how memories work, but the kind I'm talking about hit the senses a lot harder.

This one memory I'm specifically talking about is from quite some time ago.

To be accurate, probably around 3 years ago. 2009, yes. I'd say it was around November or December. Or was it around January or February of 2010? I have the hardest time recalling details regarding time. I remember most other things a lot more vividly.

I remember waking up every day, and feeling the happiest I have ever felt.

Yes, the happiest I've ever felt.

It's not an exaggeration and I know that's exactly how I felt, because I still remember clearly.

I'd wake up for class with the sun shining through my window. That can be any season in Philadelphia, which makes it harder to remember the exact time. Late 09, early 10, I'm sticking with that.

I'd wake up with the sun shining through my windows, I'd remember that I 'now' had 'everything I had been waiting for my entire life.'

Perhaps not much, because I was relatively and considerably younger back then. It sure did feel like I had, at that point, everything I was waiting for.

I was in a land still foreign, I had not discovered as much of it as I have now. I hadn't reached the point where I started regarding it as "home," in conversations and in my subconscious.

I was starting to fall in love. Madly in love. It wasn't full blown yet, but in the back of my head I knew it was starting to happen. That's what made it special, I guess, it was like foreplay.

It might have been the early quarter of 2010 ...

It was to that startling realization that I would wake up those days.

It was this enthralling thought that I would, without doubt, be seeing someone later during the day who I'd spend most of my other time wanting to see.

What my first few adventures on the journey to the rest of my life were meant to be leading up to. At least in my head.

It sounds corny on paper, it's a lot more comical in my head now too, in fact. But it was pretty fucking awesome. How am I supposed to forget a memory so... too good to just forget?

Spending those warm, sunny days, staring into pupils that were staring right back into mine, as if searching for something deep down inside me.

Gleaming in the sunlight, reflecting it right back for my eyes to feed on them and be willing to live off it. Golden brown, like they had been baked in the sun, and generously big and round, just enough for me to have a joy ride whenever we locked eyes.

As if, just as startled as me. Like a baby kitten or lion cub coming across something it has never seen before, and is surprised even exists.

It could have also been nearing the end of April, beginning of May ... two thousand and ten.

I remember spending a lot of days after that getting familiar with the scent of someone that had made it past everything and everyone else so far. Indulging in it, basking in it, making it mine. Making it so my heart would become more generous with it's labor, and I'd get lightheaded every time I encountered it.

A lot of nights too.

All subconsciously, too, we're seldom paying enough attention to such things to notice them.

The grass suddenly grew greener. The sky, more blue. The clouds came out to compliment the sunlight more often too. The wind blew more gently, and felt more soothing. I felt more alive than I ever had before.

That was definitely May... a little of June.

I still remember the shared verbal confirmation. Or acknowledgement of the fact.

Ha. I have recalled that specific moment several times between then and now.
Some people were even fortunate (or unfortunate) enough of hearing the tale, narrated by me in one of my most vulnerable moments: of intoxication.

That ones not going anywhere.

That's just what it was, though. Vulnerability. Like a cat laying down on it's back and letting you pet it's tummy. Submitting willingly, letting the rising tide swallow me whole. Swallow us whole.

That was definitely August - September, twenty ten.

I had also just discovered Scheherazade, that amazing piece of music based on the Arabian tales, by Russian composer: Rimsky Korsakov. Our favorite set was "The young Prince and Princess," a very apt name for the kind of romanticism Korsakov was aiming for. Perfect, as if the words, the feeling, and the music were all created in the seventh heaven, and therefore shared their intent.

And "Wicked Games," by Chris Isaak. Of course. That wasn't even the most cliche thing of all, though. A journal I was keeping back then, and still have, reminds me I got to make out to Nirvana in the background, too.

The waves felt a little more frightening all of a sudden. And young, careless, unsure. Uncertain and a little scared. Like jumping into a body of water, not realizing how deep it really is. It suddenly felt a lot more deeper, a little more unforgiving.

We saw it coming. From miles and miles away. I know we did, we could see it in each other's eyes. But it would be much more poetic to ride the wave, it wasn't really a choice anymore.

I suppose. This is perhaps best classified and left at as "speculation."

It was the year 2010.

And it was, well, it was really something.
One heck of a time. Some really crazy shit.

The good stuff, really. The stuff happiness is made of. It was amazing, and I can't consider myself anything but fortunate.

I mean, hey, life was pretty damn good to me. It has been, it really has. I may forget that every now and then, the present is always more overwhelming and for good reason. We shouldn't stay hung up on the past anyway, most of it is often coupled and followed by regret.

But hey. It can't be too bad to remember how great some things can feel, and hope you get to see it again. Gives you more reason to look forward to it, and appreciate it more.

Steam Powered Honeybee.

A band called "Steam Powered Giraffe," has this song called "Honeybee."

There doesn't exist a good audio version on youtube, so I'll have to link to the video. Although personally, I find the official video to be a little distracting, especially from the quality of the music.

Which is definitely owed to their gimmick, they dress up in accordance with the standards proposed by the Steampunk community, in case you hadn't noticed. Not to be confused with cyberpunk, at all, please.

If you don't know what that is, or either of those things are, go google them or something.

Though, don't let any of my bias hinder your ability to go in to the song without any ... of, well, my bias. I mean, go into the song without prejudice. Aah.

I especially like the part where they go; "I was waiting for you all my life."

Yeah, buddy.

Dev D.

Spoilers. There's a lot of spoilers up ahead.

Saw "Dev D," recently.

It's a modern representation of the classic tale of Devdas. It's one of the several remakes, the only difference here being, it's set in present time.

So instead of abusing alcohol by itself, Dev from this one has the luxury of adding cocaine and pills to the self destruction.

It was an eye opening and surprising glimpse into the venture of Bollywood towards realism and tasteful drama, as opposed to it's usual escapades with over amplified melodrama and huge list of cliche's. It was also pretty darn relatable.

So, there's "Paro," right. The love of "Dev's" life?

They fall apart though, pretty early on too. Something about both of them having huge insecurity issues. Also, their egos are too big to fit in the same room at times, so there's that constant collision of their spiritual beings on the celestial plane (or whatever the fuck.)

But they were lovers at a point and what not, you know? So it takes them a bit to get over that little piece of information.

I mean, Dev goes in to his drug fueled depression because he doesn't have Paro anymore. Paro goes ahead and gets married to someone else, within like, a week. Seriously. Like, two to three scenes away from her falling out with Dev. Yeah, just like that.

But anyway. It's safe to say they have a falling out.

So he starts drinking and doing cocaine a lot, and also hangs out with some pretty shady people. One of them is a pimp, who introduces him to ... uh ... a European girl with a backstory, who likes bollywood, so she takes up the alias "Chanda."

As in "Chandarmukhy." The original ... uh ... what were they even called, back in the day? Oldest profession and all, but do I need to use the old word to be politically correct, or what? How does this intellectual writer shit work, I ask myself sometimes.

She danced a bit and slept with dudes for money. Basically.

Her backstory though, she's like, European Indian or something, and her family throws her out because she gets intimate with a dude, and it's a really long shaming story, I really don't want to go into the details. I mean, that further into detail, anyway.

So yeah. She becomes a prostitute. (Obviously, there's a bunch of more interesting shit that goes on in the transition period from a. to b.  but I'm distracted by Method Man talking like his lips are numb, in the background.)

But Dev meets Chanda, she's super nice to him and shit. While he tries to get back with, whats-her-face, the first one. The one and only, har har.

She comes to see him and shit, and his room is a mess (fucking d'uh, he's depressed and shit. She doesn't rub it in his face more, and say he's just being a drama queen and shit, like some people would. She's not that cruel, clearly.)

But she actually cleans him up and shit, I mean relatively at least. She doesn't hook his body up to any medical equipment to pump out all the good stuff or anything like that, but she cleans up his apartment.

Oh, also, they get reaaaal close to getting jiggy with it. I mean, having sex. I mean, well, they were about to, before Paro's all like, fuck that, I ain't into it any more. Although, I did imply or hint at the idea that I might be willing to cheat on my husband right here with you... in this random ass hotel, with all these beer bottles and other ridiculous shit around us. But no, I changed my mind.

Well, Dev's like, all right, you sucked anyway. He's still chill though.

It's when she gets to the damn door, and says something so fucked up to Dev, that he just loses it. I mean, I'm not siding with Dev or anything, don't get me wrong.

But, she says the exact thing that is required to drive him over the fucking edge. To really, really make him mad. Something that really pushes his button.

Well, d'uh, she fucking knows Dev like the back of her hand. She's trying to hurt him, for some fucked up psychological reason that is unbeknownst to me, and she knows exactly what to say to poke that metaphorical needle through his spine. So she does.

He flips it, in typical fashion. I mean, why wouldn't he, right, what else can he do? Come up with something bitchier to say? No, he doesn't do that, he's probably still hungover anyway.

So he just yells and throws her out, tells her to fuck off or something.

Here's the ridiculous shit though, Paro starts fucking crying as she starts to walk back home. Like, what the fuck? What the fuck is that?

I guess that's one of the big questions that the movie raised for me and I just don't understand.

So, clearly, she's sad. Which is exactly what I don't get it, I don't understand why she's sad. She was a total bitch to Dev just a minute ago, right? I mean, she very apparently and blatantly want to hurt him. How was she not expecting to get lashed at then? What did she think he was going to do, smile and ask her to fuck off in a kinder manner?

Is she just upset at herself that things didn't work out, and she's constantly reminded of that so she lashes out in the only way she sees right in front of her?

Is she just hurt because she thinks things could have worked out before if Dev wasn't such an idiot? (She needs to get a grip on reality if that's the case though, because, uh, takes two hands to clap and shit? You know? You need to put in some effort too? Etc, etc?)

Is she sad because she actually doesn't want to go back home to her husband and wishes she could somehow go back in time, and make shit work with Dev, or just stay at the hotel without being classified as a horrible person?

And those are just some of the reasons I can come up with. But the truth is this:

I don't fucking know.

That one scene and that one thought process of Paro's symbolizes a huge aspect of my relationship with women.

Those four words, in fact, sum up a lot of it by themselves. I just don't fucking know.

Like, what's going on in Paro's head right there? It's some ridiculous mystery to me.

It's like the Moriarty to my Sherlock. Really. Gets me every time.

Anyhow, Dev continues to go buck wild, and ride the lightning. Until he bites the bullet. (I can go on with these forever.) Which he finally does and shit goes very, very horrible for him.

He finally realizes, perhaps because he's off of drugs after a really long time, that he should have just stuck with Chanda because she actually took care of him and didn't judge him.

You know, because she knows what it's like, being judged and shit. Everyone else does that to her, except Dev, so she's intrigued by that. She also knows that only someone that doesn't like themselves can be someone that don't even bother judging anyone else.

Or, no, actually, it's probably the other way around. Maybe he doesn't like himself, so he ends up constantly judging everyone else? Right? That makes sense?

What is it then, that makes Chanda fall for Dev D?

My god, here we go again.

The point is, he gives up trying to beat a dead horse, and trying to kill himself in the process, and ends up happily ever after with Chanda. Who hopefully gives up prostitution, because Dev's ego can't stand his lover with another dude, as it is.

I mean, finally. It's a hell of a journey though, and the fun being in the journey - not the destination. That kinda thing.

And yeah, pretty interesting. Really good cinematography, too. It's very refreshing, and displays a new age of filmmakers in the third world that are taking advantage of things like globalization and international standards.
They actually end up doing some pretty interesting things that seem very experimental, and in a good way, add to the appeal of this "remake."

I know, it's a pretty old movie by now, I don't know why I'm doing this shit review of it now. Or displaying my amusement by the portrayal of the human condition and pining for love and shit.

But yeah, I've been thinking of writing about things I enjoy more. So there. Maybe I'll do "Looper" next, because I finally saw it last night and fucking loved it. Added to my list of favorite movies? I think so.

Love, happiness, and neat little circles.

It's been absolutely wonderful being back in Philadelphia.

Running into people on the street that didn't know you were back and seeing the genuine happiness in their eyes that they can't control because they're so happy to see you? Amazing.

Hearing from a friend that a room full of people jumped up in exclamation knowing you were back? Pretty darn amazing.

But the most amazing by far, are the people that you only ran into every now and then. People that you only know because they work the register or counters at places you bought things at. Small grocery stores, seven elevens. Absolutely amazing.

This lady you always struck up a conversation with when you went in to get a sandwich, and she still remembers you because of how nice you were and have been to her.

More amazing and astounding though, the guy at the small petrol station next to your house about 2 years ago. Yes, 2 years ago. He gives you a weird look and recognizes you almost immediately.

"You're the guy that was always here! I remember you, and thought you looked familiar. I remember you told me you were from Saudi Arabia, you were always here with your girlfriend!"

Ouch. Yeah, she died.

"Where have you been? Never see you anymore?"

Oh, dude, where do I even begin? First off, it's been around 2 years. I've been around the world and back, and not just metaphorically. Those are two huge reasons I haven't been around.

Amazing. Makes me feel/think that I must be doing something right. No, it reinforces that thought and feeling. The want to be nice to people, the warm fuzzy feeling you get in return. The fact that people remember you even years after you saw them, and get genuinely happy to see you again.

Guy that works at a petrol station. Who I hadn't seen in forever. Seriously.

We don't really ever do anything in selflessness, it's quite impossible. Makes being nice even more worthwhile.

Also makes me think how people that have claimed otherwise about me were either too fucking stupid, too insecure about themselves or just didn't care at all either way. Happy realization, though?

So here's a tip, world: smile at people you see today. And tomorrow. And the day after. In fact, go nuts, do it every day.

Nothing beats being loved. Being loved is a luxury, and it's even more amazing when you receive it from people who have not much to gain in offering it to you.

It all comes around in a neat little circle, the universe takes care of the intrinsic and complicated mathematics involved that we don't have to worry about. Call it Karma, makes it easier to understand and process, with a neat little definition for everyone to understand. We are the world around us, etc.

These are happy times and they feel surreal. Like a polished glaze of ice that I'm too scared to touch because I think I'll end up shattering it.

But that's a horrible form of confirmation bias that I have been given the task of getting over. Just a small fee for feeling so on top of the world, though, right? Such a small fee, and I've already paid for much bigger pains and troubles.

I be aaaaite. End of transmission.

In the Mausoleum.

This is an amazing song called "In the Mausoleum," by Beirut off of their album "The Flying Club Cup."

Especially love the violin at the 1:37 mark.

There's a hint of Middle Eastern romanticism in that sound. The gently weeping violin, I can't get over it.

Something so significant about the violin and it's ability to wrench my heart and make my chest feel heavy.