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The fish is dragged from the sea in a spray of salt water and slammed onto a wooden dock. A black fishing net entangles him for a moment until he accidentally wiggles out of it. He is free. And that terrifies him more than his inability to breathe.

“She loved me once,” says a shaggy-looking man on stage at the bar built semi-parallel to the ocean. “I wrote this song about her, but I don’t listen to it anymore.” He puts bright orange earplugs into his fuzzy ears and strums his guitar.

The fish flops across the dock, grows legs, and steps wobbly up to the bar’s counter to order a glass of water. “We’re all out,” the bartender tells him, “we only have beer.”

In a corner sits a girl with hair so blonde it’s almost white. The fish sits down across from her and smiles. “I’d never thought I’d sit in a bar with someone before,” he tells her. She stares at him, mouth gaping, bubbles leaking out and floating away over her head. He likes her immediately and decides to never leave her side.

“I lost my ocean,” he tells her. “I have legs now. I can’t go back. I’ll follow you.” The girl agrees, happy to have attention, even from a fish she never wants to be friends with.

The man on stage is still playing but no one is listening to him, not even himself. He realizes this and smashes his guitar noiselessly on the ground. Then he asks the bartender for a broom and carefully sweeps up his mess. He digs the earplugs from his ears and holds them carefully in one hand as he steps over to the fish’s table.

“You’re an idiot,” he tells the fish, flicking an earplug at him. The fish doesn’t mind too much. He knows he’s an idiot, but now that he’s found the blonde girl, he doesn’t have to think about anything ever again.

The musician looks over at the girl. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he says to her, flicking the other orange earplug at her face. He turns to leave, waving happily at the pile of broken wood and string he’s left on stage.

The fish looks at the girl. She looks at him looking at her. A tsunami arrives and washes them all into the ocean.

 

 

 

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1. Do the makers of “Jurassic World” expect us all to forget what happened at “Jurassic Park”? I’m just seeing a remake. How could we ever forget?! Never forget, y’all. So, do you want to go to the movies with me?

2. Keep talking, keep telling me all of your problems and your messed up perspective of the world, you’re giving me so much information for me to use in my future poems about you!

3. I love this song. It’s terrible! It’s amazing! It sounds like this guy has allergies/is crying/is super happy/doesn’t know how to speak English. ALSO, how do hip hop dudes decide on their hip hop names? Because it seems like they draw random words out of a hat. “Chedda Da Connect? It’s perfect!

4. How to win hearts: http://imgur.com/gallery/SDUYW

5. Remember pencil chewers? Me too. Remember borrowing a pencil and holding it in your hand and realizing not only was there no eraser (so therefore the pencil was useless!), but the metal part was all chewed so therefore had been in someone’s mouth!? Yeah.

6. I was sitting at a table full of strangers recently. A few years ago that would’ve terrified me, but these days I love meeting new people. Not, like, talking to them or anything, just meeting them. Which sometimes involves a bit of talking, but, whatever. So there I was, meeting these people, listening to them tell me about their really exciting lives (or their really not exciting lives). This one guy was really outgoing and funny and a great story teller, and this other guy sitting next to him was pretty quiet and mousy and shy. And I remember thinking about this quiet dude, and I compared him to the talkative funny dude, and, even though I am a quiet dude myself, I thought badly of him for not being interesting enough! Even though I was doing the exact same thing! Maybe he has a personality, just not at a table full of strangers? Anyway, what’s the point of all of this? I don’t know. Maybe that I’m a terrible person. Maybe I judged that guy harshly for being a quiet person because I am one. And/or because all of my friends have always been more boisterous than me/I’m usually the quiet person/I don’t know how to talk to quiet people.

7. You can sit still as much as you want, but the world keeps on spinning, with or without you.

8. Small screaming children and drunken old people are pretty much the same.

9. I can’t fix all of your problems/everything that’s wrong with you! You’ve got to do something!

10. You should really focus on yourself. I know it’s easy/feels better to focus on other stuff/less important things/other people/drama/netflix, whatever it is you’re distracting yourself with. (Bob’s Burgers?? No way! I would never.) But it’s really not better. ALSO, you should read this article on Vice; it’s really good and talks about some of the same sort of things. Because no one yells at you enough these days!

Today was a strange day.

I got up early to do some laundry. I ate a grapefruit for breakfast. All very exciting.

It was raining. No, it was lightly drizzling. It was the kind of weather that nobody likes – not even ducks. This went on all day long.

I had a class today that started at 12:30. I got to school at 10:00 (early enough to get a good parking spot). I sat in the library for two hours, waiting for class time to come around.

It was rainy, and I was too warm in that library. Bored, waiting for two hours with nothing to do, I went online to see what I had gotten on a Psychology exam I took last week. An 85%. Not so great.

Then I checked my school email account. In it, an email from the school about my upcoming graduation (in May). With it, a realization that this is almost all over. Something else is coming.

Another email, asking me if I wanted to pre-purchase tickets for an event in early August 2013. With it, a realization that I might not be in the US next summer. I can’t make plans. Something else is coming.

12:00 came around. Suddenly, I didn’t want to go to class. I wanted to leave. I wanted to go home – no, not home. Just elsewhere.

I walked out to my truck. 12:05. Should I go to class? Students walked past as I sat in my vehicle, staring at the clock on the dashboard. What do I do?

I turned the key. A lady walked by carrying an umbrella over her shoulder. I put the truck in reverse and pulled out of my parking spot.

Where to go? To Target. Once there (not very far from my school), I sat in my truck for a moment. I fiddled with my phone. I put my ipod into my glovebox (to prevent theft). I sat longer. I fiddled around on Twitter: “I don’t know where I’m going; I’m just running away.”

Target. I could just go wander around in there. I could see if they have any cute underwear on sale. I don’t really need anything. I don’t really have any money.

I put my seatbelt back on, and took my ipod back out of the glovebox. I didn’t want to go to Target. I pulled back onto the road, onto the expressway, again, heading towards home.

Gas prices are down a lot. $3.33 a gallon today. I could get gas. I’ve only got a half tank.

I pulled into the Meijer gas station. A lady was walking out from the gas station store when I pulled in. She walked awfully close to my truck as I zoomed past her on my way to a pump. I didn’t slow down like I normally would have. I got too close.

I pull in, check my mirror to see if the tank is close enough to the gas pump (I never pull up far enough and have to stretch the hose too far over).

“Ma’am?” The lady is walking over. My first thought: Is she angry that I got too close?

“The gas station has no power. The pumps aren’t working.”

“Oh, Thank you.”

I think: Do I really look like a ‘Ma’am’? Why do people say that to me?

The engine is still on, so I put my truck back into drive and pull away – back onto the road. Towards home.

I don’t have to work today. Just school. Only, I didn’t have school, did I? I’ve got to study tonight. Lots to study.

I still need gas. I drive closer towards home, through the city, into the country. I go North. I stop at another gas station. I wonder if I’m feeling cranky today. I wonder if I’m just hormonal. I wonder if it’s because the sun has gone farther away.

This was the first time I’ve skipped class this semester. I was doing so well. I feel guilty. Class starts in 6 minutes, and I know I’m not going back.

I pump gas into my truck. I wasted gas going to school for nothing. I knew I just should have stayed home in the first place. I felt it. But I don’t skip class.

I stop the counter at exactly $30.00. There’s one small accomplishment for the day. I take it. I print out a receipt. I never print out receipts. I shove it into my little brown purse along with my credit card. Other people are buying gas, too. I feel so tired of this. We all do the same things.

I drive towards home. My gas tank is full. This make me happier. The weather is still gray. I listen to my Paolo Nutini CD. I think about how his voice matches the weather.

I pull into my driveway. My parent’s driveway. My dad is home. Of course he is. I go to my room. I feel better. Maybe because my bedroom walls are painted bright yellow – much too bright for the color scheme of the rest of our house. My parents’ house. I put down my backpack. In it, the books I didn’t use today. A reminder. Something else is coming. But today, you were not the person you are supposed to be.

Today was a strange day.

what are we doing? seriously, have you taken a moment recently to look around? look at what we’ve done. look at all the things we’ve built. look at all the animals we’ve made extinct, all the animals we’ve brought back from extinction by taking some old DNA and putting it into a goat. look at all the people we’ve killed. look at all the people we’ve buried in tightly-sealed boxes. look at all the people who want to be buried in tightly-sealed boxes. look at us, pretending we’ll never die, and, at the same time, pretending to live. pretending to live here. what are we doing? why are we doing this? do we even have a four-year plan? where are we going? where are we headed? the future seems vague and never-ending. it seems infinite. it seems like we’ll always be here, building, tearing down, killing, loving, searching, putting dead people in boxes so they can hide from the worms.

So…

Where did all that come from, you might ask? Are you a little bit afraid of me now? Is it not normal to carry on lengthy conversations about burial procedures?
I’ll answer that first question, and we’ll avoid the other two. Ok? Ok.

Today, at my wonderful University (that takes all of my money), … well, ok, I don’t know. These things just come up. If you’re a college student (or ever have been), I’m sure you’ll understand. Getting off-topic is my favorite, because you get to talking about things that people actually want to talk about. (Ok, I’ll admit some of my fellow classmates looked a bit faint-y during the 15 minutes we discussed coffins, cremations, etc… but, still.) Getting off-topic gets to the guts of the conversation. You get to the topics that everyone desperately wants to talk about with each other. You get to the reasons why people want to go to college in the first place (at least, that’s how it seems to me). Connection, right? Understanding. To learn more than you ever could in high school: Not just FACTS, but, KNOWLEDGE.

Once, I heard tell (from somewhere) about these cemetery-type things in Sweden. I heard that they just sort of take you (you, being dead, and all), bundle you up a bit (think: shroud/cloth of Ancient Greece), and plop you in a hole in the ground (Have I made this seem properly romantic?). But, here’s the best part yet (which I’m sort of foggy on): They either plant a tree on top of (you) your burial spot, or they place (not plop! what horrible word usage on my behalf…) you next to a tree, sort of like an additional fertilizer. (Ahh, so romantic! I love it! Yeah?)

Or, if you’d prefer, there’s always the nice option of the tightly-sealed coffin. Personally, I don’t get it. I’d really love for someone (pro-coffin) to explain this to my poor, confused, brain.

Also, here’s another point to argue my point (another point being that I’m not quite sure what point I’m trying to make, here). Actually, I think this fits rather nicely into this flow of consciousness because I learned this at college, too! (See, Mom??!)

I’m pretty sure it was in Sociology class, b.t.w., so there’s that. It must have been one of those off-topic conversations… (And, if you know me, or you’ve just read this far [hi!], you know I love those!)

“Conservation of Energy” Ok, I don’t really remember exactly what that is (It’s been like five semesters since that class, ok?), but I’m pretty sure it’s something like: “There’s a certain amount of energy in the Universe, and the form that the energy takes can change, but the amount of energy in the Universe always stays the same.” (Don’t quote me in any important research papers. Or, do!)

So, your body (look down at it. Do you see it?) has a whole lot of energy in it. No, not that slice of pizza you had for dinner (or, not only that…. pepperoni, was it?), but the total amount of energy that you consist of. (Not your aura, either. This is not that kind of blog.) Like, your cells and everything. Your hair. (You have hair, right? Probably? If not, feel free to use any of the following: your nose, your left big toe, both elbows, your right hip bone…)

You are a mass of energy! Look at you! You can do anything! (Oh, wait, we’re not doing inspirational this time.)

Even after you die (slash pass away, drift off, etc.), you are energy. You’re part of the total amount of energy in the Universe! (whoops. Too inspirational-y? I can’t stop!)

Finally, we get to my point! If we bury people (and their energy) away in the ground, seal ’em up tight, what happens? There must be a huge amount of something just buried away in the ground – sealed up. Hell, maybe that’s what’s causing global warming! (I can have my own theory, right? Also, was that a pun?)

It just seems wrong to me.

Newsflash: You are going to die some day! (In one way or another; whatever you’re beliefs are…. yatta yatta)

Are we somehow less dead if the worms can’t get to us? If the energy from our bodies can stay locked up in some cement box?

Here, let’s go full circle. Follow me, now:

What are we doing? 

That’s a broad question, right? Yeah, I know. It may be one of those questions we go to college to try and answer. Maybe we can’t answer it. Maybe we won’t ever know. Maybe we will!

In any case, shouldn’t we strive for the things that we do to be logical?

If not, Why are we even doing the things that we do?