Jogging.

Aimless meditation in expensive sneakers.
Come help fold proteins!

Also, I washed blood out of my hair this morning.

Eww.
Hope you don't mind if I yoink this soapbox for just a moment. I know it's unprecedented. Just go with it; this will help me prepare for my debate tomorrow.

In Support of the Argument Against Physician-Assisted Suicide in California.

First off, all personal beliefs aside it is important to recognize the natural arguments against the passage of legislation in California similar to Oregon's "Death With Dignity Act." Most notably, there are a host of important social issues raised with the prospect of such a shift in the medical community. First of all, we must recognize the potential sociological problems that may occur. While it would at first glance seem logical and even merciful to grant such options to patients desiring a peaceful death of their own choosing, take a moment to consider the radical shifts that would likely occur across all levels of society.
Chiefly, consider the problems raised for those most personally involved in any act of physician-assisted suicide. If it becomes possible for a patient to request a lethal injection at his or her convenience, death may well become trivialized and even commercialized in the near future. Currently, few people question an infirm patient's right to utilize their own resources, as well as those of the family and the community to maintain their vitals through use of medical facilities and equipment. However, with the advent of physician-assisted suicide strictures the possibility of ending life knowingly and prematurely becomes commonplace, leading to the inevitable suicide due primarily to matters of finance. For example, if the hypothetical Grandpa Joe has been suffering from a terminal form of malignant cancer and requires a battery of expensive medical care in order to sustain himself, he may feel pressured to end his life early in order to avoid saddling his family with significant amounts of debt. While this may occur even now, with the wide-spread acceptance of early termination such ethical dilemnas will inevitably become commonplace among the senior citizen population.
Also consider the moral burden such legislation would place on the medical community. For the most part, a physicians' purpose in life is to aid and abet human life; only in rare cases is it considered acceptable to assist in ending someone's life, and then only when all heroic measures have been exhausted. With the advent of assisted suicide laws, physicians would be saddled with the responsibility of either aiding imploring patients in committing what amounts to state-sanctioned murder, or having to refuse the entreaties of needy patients and their responsible medical organizations based on moral or ethical qualms. Either way, this new ruling complicates and in my opinion lowers the quality of emotional satisfaction most medical practioners derive from their employment, a key factor in this particular line of work.
Sociological complications aside, one must also consider the possibility of what has been lightly termed a "slippery slope" phenomenon emerging. In the governance of human affairs, man has always walked a fine line when it comes to the death of others. The death penalty is not widely championed; in fact it is currently illegal in California, the subject of this debate. How then is it acceptable as a state that we frown on sanctioning the murder of convicted felons, yet may well condone the same techniques used on our own upstanding citizens, who may not be in their right mind at the time of such a request? If we allow physicians to hold the right to life over their patients in such an immediate manner, what are we saying about our values as a society? Given my earlier prognostications, how long will it be before we begin to see legislation not only regulating but mandating assisted suicide for citizens of a certain physical specimen? The possible ramifications of this particular line of morbid reasoning are terrifying to consider: is it not foreseeable that if we allow this sort of practice to carry on, it may some day become acceptable for physicians themselves to decide a patients right to life? Indeed, might it not come to pass that in some dismal future doctors may stalk the halls of hospitals and hospices alike, leering in at every dark doorway and fingering their pockets full of deadly dosage, while spectral balance sheets and shadowy quarterly reports prance alluringly in their mind? While such a possibility may seem unlikely at this point, it remains our responsibility as custodians of future generations to stop and consider in detail every ramification of our decision. The choices we make echo through the halls of history, and we must strive to make such weighty reverberations as euphonious as possible.

Wow.

Tell me that didn't take up the whole damn page?

I'm going to bed.
Ugh.

Who puts mint in herbal tea?
I know, I know.
But still.
Whoever invented grapefruit should be dragged out into the street and shot.
Oh man.
I'm starting to mess up again, I can feel it.
I've got about four stories due that have piled up in my Journalism class.
I just showed up to Cartooning for the first time in about two weeks.
I'm going to have to miss my field trip tomorrow because I left my folder with the permission slip at a friend's house.
And I'm going to have trouble calling up my debate partners and apologizing for missing out on class today and double-check we're still meeting tomorrow because their phone numbers were in the same notebook.

This is always how it goes.

I suppose if I actually learned from most of my mistakes, I would have stopped this sort of behavior before it picked up such inertia.
Instead, I've just got to make myself tie up all these loose ends and get back on top of things before I lose my chances of earning any sort of respectable grade altogether.

Not cool, subconscious; not cool at all.

And regarding physician-assisted suicide: dirty commie hippos. How the hell am I supposed to present a number of rational and persuasive arguments free of any sort of emotional subtext against it? The only reasonable viewpoint makes it seem as though packs of roving M.D.'s prowl the streets, tattered labcoats bulging with hypodermics and poorly-written prescriptions. A chill wind whistling through the dank underbelly of the city brings the sounds of their passing to terrified ears, huddled close beneath the paltry light of a single bare bulb. The harsh luminescence paints frightful caricatures ten feet tall along the far wall; the youngest cower as the sonorous call to feed echoes through the forgotten masonry of ages past.

Do you have insurance?
Newly christened best website ever.

More at eleven?
ZOMG .

It's so bad, it makes me want to punch babies.
Oh wait.
Hmm.

Sleep and I seem to have a love-hate relationship at the moment.

I'm fascinated and confused by human nature, none moreso than my own (narcissism and all that.)

So.

I get a lot of crap for acting the way I do, especially in recent months. I'd like to think it's mostly light-hearted crap, but crap nonetheless. In my critic's defense, I undoubtedly come off as just the tiniest bit jumpy. A little bit ADD, if you will. In the interests of getting to sleep before 3, I'm going to do my best to forego trying to make this sound witty or erudite.
The truth is, some time ago (months? years?) I started feeling dramatically different. And not like that not-so-fresh, special time of the month feeling either. It's difficult in retrospect to pinpoint any dramatic, made-for-TV moment that defined where I started to shift my paradigm regarding humanity's natural right to coexist and impinge on the rights of others. A sort of social manifest destiny, if you will. All I know is that for the longest time, I'd done my best to be disarmingly amusing and friendly in an effort to win the attention of others. I'd always played the fool, hoping (as so many other socially inept) that I could win friendship and goodwill through the amusement of others. Getting pushed around and made the butt of jokes was at first acceptable and even welcomed, as it meant I had moved up from nobody to lowest on the proverbial pole.
This sort of behavior carried on through most of my youth and even as far as junior high and high school. At some point I fell in with a pretty steady bunch of people, and who and what they were didn't matter so much as the fact that I had more than one or two people I could call friends at a time. I'd like to think I straightened up in terms of just being generally annoying, but I still allowed myself to be pushed around by people who wanted to be higher on the aforementioned social pole in the interests of avoiding conflict. I convinced myself it was okay, that I was bigger than everyone and thus it was best if I was the one to get the occasional slaps and shoves, it being unlikely that anyone could seriously harm me.
At some point I also started to think that if I just showed those around me what I thought it meant to be a good person, turn the other cheek and all that, that at some point they'd notice and start feeling like they could be better too. Sort of like a perverse Golden Rule, you know? I'd give free rides without hassling about gas money, loan out money freely, do my best to be light-hearted in my jests and never antagonize anyone if I could help it. It made me feel pretty good and I figured that if the people around me were happier, then they in turn would be nicer to those around them and in the end it would make a noticeable difference. Occasionally, I think it even worked out like that.
Recently that all changed. It became apparent that most people I knew weren't interested in questions of morality or ethics, that they were typically driven only to keep their head in the proverbial sand, doggedly pursuing whatever most captured their fancy without thinking about the how's and why's that drove them. My fear of just such a similar fate (and whether my own bucolic nature is really just a subtler way of heaping the dirt over mine own eyes) is another page-long rumination in itself; best to stick with what I've got. These observations gradually dawned on me over a period that undoubtedly covered years, and I just grew more and more fed up with the way people around me chose to carry out their existence. Audacious of me, I know.
To be honest, upon fresh recollection the point of renounciation becomes difficult to pinpoint. I think it may have come near the end of my last relationship, but it's hard to be sure. I doubt that was really the way it sounds upon reviewing that sentence; in truth it wasn't a real relationship in any sense of the word, and to imply that it was central to any crisis of faith is probably stretching it. Rather, it seems likely that at some point I looked up only to find that I was a different person altogether from what I expected.
Formatting's a bitch. To return to my original point (I had to scroll up and re-read it to remind myself) I've been acting in ways many people find a little off-putting, and the only explanation I have to give is that this is the person I think I'd like to be, at least for a little while. I feel it's necessary to play the part of instigator, of pusher, of loud-mouth reactionary because no one else seems interested in doing so. I'm terrified to look back at the last few years of my life, years during which most people experience momentous change, and realize that I have difficulty telling those months and years apart for the sheer boredom and apathy they represent. I've accomplished so little, and dreamed of so much, that I can't stand the idea of sitting still and spending even just one more night sitting in front of a damn television screen.
I have a feeling I know what you're thinking; despite my constant protests to the contrary, I do spend an uncomfortable amount of time just passively engaged with television, the internet, and online gaming. I'd be a fool and a liar to say that I didn't occasionally enjoy these activities; it is not my intention to abolish them entirely but rather to take them in moderation, supplanting their place in my life with other activities as needed. So far, it's not working out so well. I don't want to be the same person when I'm sixty that I am now; I don't want to work the same job for thirty-plus years; and I cannot abide the idea that the best stories I'll be able to tell my grandchildren of my foolish adventures when I was their age involves a lit paper napkin and a cracked plastic lighter.
In the end, it all comes down to storytelling. I'm not terribly good at it, but I love it anyway. When I'm old (assuming I make it that far) I want to be the eccentric grandfather, the crackpot uncle. I want to be able to tell fantastic flights of fancy, and know I'm not lying about a damn bit of it. I want to spend a night in jail, fall off someone's roof and crash through a gazebo, and leap a motorcycle through a hoop of flaming death. I know my chances are slim, but screw it. I keep hoping someone else will pick up on my fervor, give in to the sheer wonderful quixotic foolishness of youth and stop acting so despicably mature; instead, it seems all I manage to accomplish is distancing myself even more from those around me. I'm tired of pretending I'm superior to the "unwashed masses", subtly holding my nose up at those around me because I wasn't popular in high school. At some point, all the posturing just becomes too comically bizarre to participate in with a straight face.
In any case, it's five minutes to three and I've long since given up on making any coherent point. If you feel I'm acting too imbecilic, politely fuck off. Puzzled as I am, I've grown comfortable with who I am and who I want to be. Whether I'll edit or delete this tomorrow remains to be seen; embarassing as it is, I can't think of anything better to put in a crap writing practice like this than an ostentatious line-of-consciousness scrawl like this. Quod erat demonstrandum.
If you read this far, I thank and congratulate you.

Now go outside.


OMGWTFBBQ SILLY PICTURE.
PWND.
My freshly-laundered shirt smells suspiciously of bacon.
...
WTF?
HA.

Also, fixed the comments problem.
Quibble to your hearts content.
Humans are innately perverse.
Just saying.
I'm gonna take this space to prove it.

Evidence A

per·verse
[per-vurs]
–adjective
1.willfully determined or disposed to go counter to what is expected or desired; contrary.
2.characterized by or proceeding from such a determination or disposition: a perverse mood.
3.wayward or cantankerous.
4.persistent or obstinate in what is wrong.
5.turned away from or rejecting what is right, good, or proper; wicked or corrupt.

[Origin: 1325–75; ME <>perversus facing the wrong way, askew, orig. ptp. of pervertere.]


Logical Proof:

Proof A: It is in humanity's best interests for the continued survival of the species to:
1) Band together as a group in order to best ensure mutual perpetuation against the dangers of the world.
2) To prolong human life as long as possible by taking as few risks as possible.
3) To best ensure propagation of the species by mating as often as possible with disparate members of the genealogical pool, spawning large amounts of genetically diverse young capable of withstanding the depredations of nature.

Proof B: Some of the strongest values held by popular culture:
1) Venerate and worship the willful and brash loner.
2) Admire and encourage the brave and foolish risk-takers.
3) The most beautiful and true form of loving relationship is that between one man and one woman, until one or both pass away.

Some of humanity's greatest values are directly contrary to what is most important for the survival of the species. Q.E.D., humanity is innately perverse.

(Yes, I know I cherry-picked my arguments. Home-court advantage. You disagree? Bring it up, not like I've got better things to be doing. Like sleep. Hmm....)


I loves me some panckaes.
But who doesn't?
I think it's a law somewhere.
Thou shalt not come between a man and his shortstack.
Bloodshed ensues.
Shit.
I was funny an hour ago.
"Boredom"

A haiku.

Indifference burns
Fair, fluttered apathy turns
Conceivably, hope floats?