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3/10/07 - 5:00am:
A number of recent events in my life have caused me to reconsider something that, for quite some time now, I’ve taken as truth. I’m sure most of you have heard the old adage, “before you can love another person, you have to first love yourself”. Well, given the many varied interpretations of the word “love” that people seem to have developed over the years, I extrapolated that statement to a more general form, by replacing the word “love” with the phrase “be happy with”. So, “before you can be happy with another person, you have to be happy with yourself”.
Now, in this article, I will speak in the first person sometimes, about my own experiences. The only reason that I choose to write in this manner is because it is the perspective from which I have the most direct information. This Commentary is not meant to be about me; nor is it meant to tell my story. By way of my personal voice, I mean to comment on the human condition in general, nothing more or less.
What does it mean to be “happy” with one’s self? That’s sort of an odd question, I suppose, since people have many ideas about what constitutes happiness, much like they do about love, as I mentioned before. However, I think in a functional sense, happiness with one’s self can be simplified down to “acceptance”. To be happy with one’s self requires one to accept himself as a capable, successful, and most importantly worthy (of love, success, etc.) person.
So, it’s not really about happiness, is it? To be “happy” with myself, I don’t need to be the best basketball player in school. I don’t need to be the state champ in powerlifting. I don’t need to have the fastest turbo Saturn (or even a functioning turbo Saturn…shit). All I need is to perceive myself as someone who is capable and worthy of whatever success I may strive to accomplish in the future. “Perceive”, I think is the key word. I think many people err in that they look for internal happiness from specific accomplishments, when instead what they need to try to do is change their perspective on their actions. The joy and prestige from the staccato glories of life fade quickly, but the sense of “successful self” borne of the interpretation of these events does not.
I came home today for a couple days before I go out to Colorado. I don’t own a TV in Florida, but I sometimes watch it when I’m home in MD. I ended up randomly catching two hour-long shows of the series “Intervention” that aired in a row tonight. It’s an interesting show in that it’s fairly easy, despite the varied problems that the subjects of the show exhibit, to notice common themes in the lives of all the troubled people. Given that some develop eating disorders, some become addicted to narcotics, some sink into alcoholism, and whatever else, they’re all surprisingly homogenous in a few, apparently powerfully destructive aspects of their lives.
They all feel as though they aren’t worthy of love. Not that they AREN’T loved. In fact, they all have caring, very concerned support structures. But they FEEL as though they aren’t WORTHY of being loved. It seems as though they develop the disorders, which eventually envelope their lives, as methodology for gaining a modicum of control over their lives and a sense of self-worth, all without facing the true underlying cause(s) or to blind themselves to their feelings of low self-worth altogether. The problem with these methods arises from the fact that the actor is never forced, either from within or without, to process the pain, guilt, sadness, or whatever that is bothering them, and instead stagnates into a vicious cycle of low self-esteem and consequent inaction.
About two months back, I re-met a person who mean(s/t) a lot to me. It was wonderful to have someone in my life that I truly respected as an equal. Though going into the situation I knew that the person was guarded in regards to a full-on relationship, it was just great to deal with someone who I really enjoyed. Anyhoo, sparing you all the emotastical details, it ended up that she basically pooned out of opening up emotionally and withdrew behind a wall of fear and cynicism. I was really just fucking bummed out. Going from interacting with a great person on a regular basis to not being able to do that at all, at least to any satisfying (physically, emotionally, intellectually) extent, was…well…not a good feeling. Soooooooo, I decided that my temporary solution to feeling like I did would be to go on a fucking BENDER and get wasted out of my skull every fucking night. Well, to its credit, I did successfully numb the pain out (and spend ALL of the “padding money” I had…whoops) for two weeks. However, in the back of my head, through it all, I knew that I just needed to process the sadness, and that in the end I would come out of it alright. I believed that I was, inherently, a good person worthy of love, and would therefore be ok. The people I see in the show lack that one essential quality that saves me, even in times of great sadness, from being truly self-destructive. They no longer (or ever did) believe that they are worthy of happiness, success and, ultimately, love. That difference is why they are on the show and I’m not.
So, back to the point at hand. The statement that, “one must love one’s self before one can love another” is not really true. It’s certainly not the whole truth, at least. The fact is that we have evolved to procreate. Our essential function on this Earth is to continue the species. In the general human condition, and especially in this society, successful child rearing USUALLY requires a strong pair-bond, as it’s called. Successful children SEEM to need, in my experience, a mother-father UNIT to develop properly. Not to say that it can’t be done in a one-parent house…it just doesn’t usually go well. So, assuming that a pair-bond is needed to raise successful children, and that creating successful children is the essential goal of each member of our species, it becomes apparent that finding a person to love is also an essential goal and a driving force in our lives.
I have come to believe, based upon my own experience and from seeing how others react to both eventual success and repeat failure in the quest to find love, that a human will always feel a void without someone to truly love. I do not mean that one will always feel utterly depressed and useless if one is alone. Clearly that isn’t the case, and it shouldn’t be. Defining one’s SELF as a successful, worthy person is imperative, I think, to forming strong loving ties to another person. However, at some point in a human’s life, and that point will surely vary between individuals, it becomes a driving need to find a loving partner.
The upshot to all this blahblahing is that one must maintain the proper perspective on self-discovery, love, and the feelings and emotions accompanying each pursuit. It is, surely, absolutely essential to success in eventually loving another that an individual define and accept himself, through both internal and external (parents, siblings, teachers, etc.) positive reinforcement, as a capable person worthy of giving and receiving love. However, one then shouldn’t be surprised to find that they feel unfulfilled in some way, still, until they have formed a mutually loving relationship with another person. Both the actualization of self and the actualization of love between the self and another are essential elements to true, complete happiness within the bounds of the human condition.
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1/28/07 - 1:00pm:
After I finish writing one of these more philosophic Commentaries, I often have a certain few people look over the work and give me feedback. I ask them to assess not the merit of the ideas, but whether or not a reader who doesn't know me personally would get what I'm trying to say. See, the problem that occasionally arises in trying to write this column effectively stems from the fact that the way I write is supposed to be "conversational". When people read an entry of Commentary, I want them to feel like they are having a conversation with me. And while I realize that reading a piece here isn't exactly interactive, I try to write in a way that reads back like I'm talking *to* the reader, not typing into a computer at no one.
Unfortunately, not everyone who reads the entries here knows me personally. I'd think, actually, that the vast majority of people who read this stuff haven't met me. This lack of familiarity prevents them from understanding some underlying principles of which many on my personal acquaintances are aware. One of these principles is that I see respect towards others as an essential attribute of a righteous person. This quality is one of the main differences between an "asshole" and a "mean person". An asshole, which I consider myself to be, doesn't necessarily exhibit friendliness or a desire to interact with people they deem to be not-worth-their-fucking-time, but he also doesn't blatantly disrespect other people unless, of course, they decide to pick a beating. On the other hand, a mean person will blatantly disrespect other people, with no precedent, inflammatory action towards the mean person. While I am pretty sure I'm an asshole, I certainly strive to *not* be a mean person.
With that said, I want to mention something relating to the last few Commentaries. One of the people I have read my writing, a lot of times, is my mom. When she read the 1/27/07 entry, she felt that I hadn't explained something fully, and that people might get the wrong idea of what I was trying to say. What I had left unsaid, she thought, was the limit that exists to the statement, "do what you feel is best...all the time". Now, clearly there must be a limit imposed on that notion if one desires to not be a mean person. Sometimes, things just don't need to be said. Sometimes, you think of saying things that essentially serve no productive purpose, but will still hurt the person to whom you are speaking. In the pursuit of both general respect towards others and efficiency of action, those sorts of statements are useless at best, and often are just simply counterproductive.
So, for example, when The Quarterback decided to send his text message to the girl, it was a good idea, because it was both a natural instinct to do so and a positive message. However, if he had instead thought the girl was nice, but just really fucking ugly, he should've kept that thought to himself. Here is why: while telling the girl she is ugly is an internal impulse, it serves no productive purpose. It won't move The Quarterback any closer to whatever his goals are regarding this person. In addition, saying that he thought she was ugly, out of the blue, would be clearly disrespectful to the girl. One might argue that maybe his goal was to get the girl to go away, as sometimes happens in relationships between people. The same effect of getting the girl to go away could be accomplished, just as easily, by keeping quiet and just not talking to her. In that case, you avoid being blatantly disrespectful while still getting done what you want.
The underlying support for the limit to the "do what you want" notion comes from the Objectivist concept of Moral Selfishness. According to Dr. Leonard Peikoff, "Moral selfishness does not mean a license to do whatever one pleases, guided by whims. It means the exacting discipline of defining and pursuing one's rational self-interest. A code of rational self-interest rejects every form of human sacrifice, whether of oneself to others or of others to oneself. The ethics of rational self-interest upholds the exercise of one's mind in the service of one's life, and all of the specific value-choices and character attributes which such exercise entails. It upholds the virtues of rationality, independence, integrity, honesty, justice, productiveness, pride. It does not advocate 'survival at any price'".
While the classic interpretation of Moral Selfishness, as I understand it, principally regards physical interactions (basically supporting an abhorrence of violence, except for the purpose of retaliation). However, I believe it also extends into the realm of emotional contact and interplay. While it is patently wrong to sacrifice your goals and intentions for the benefit of another, it is also wrong to negatively impact their emotional well-being when there is another option available to you that will accomplish your goal just as easily, while avoiding hurting the other person.
Maybe I'm a softie or whatever (unlikely), but that is how I see it. Unneccesary insults are inefficient to life and, as such, should be avoided. So, whatever you read here, read it in light of that guiding principle.
Oh....and by the way...you're ugly.
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1/27/07 - 1:26am:
I've been considering something lately. As a disclaimer, what follows may seem, to some, an obvious deduction based upon points I've made in previous writing. Namely that, acting honestly (regarding one's impulses and desires) when dealing with others and providing others with full truths and allowing them to make informed decisions, are inherently right things to do. However, the subject on which I'm going to write now is important enough to me that I think it deserves a dedicated exposition. The basic idea here is: When interacting with others, acting honestly to yourself is far more important than the results of your actions, whether they be good or bad.
I'll give you an example of what I'm talking about. A friend of mine, we'll call him "The Quarterback", IMed me tonight to ask my impression of his interaction with a new girl. They had gone on a few dates and, earlier in the day, he had sent her a text message that read, "Hope your trip is going well. Just thinking of ya." Despite his good intentions with his message, it was now 1am and he had failed to recieve a response. He had asked me if I thought that sending the message was a rash decision and if I thought she'd been scared off. What I told him then is characteristic of the point I want to make here. I said, "Why is it bad? Did you WANT to say that to her?" He affirmed that he had wanted to say that to her, to which I replied, "The lack of response doesn't matter...what is best is for one to act honestly...the results of those actions are unimportant."
The point of The Quarterback interacting with this girl was for the two of them to get to know each other, and to thereby discover if they were compatible, mostly in a romantic manner, though the nature of their relationship matters little. So, if The Quarterback does what The Quarterback feels like he wants to do, right from the start of their interaction, the girl then knows the true Quarterback from start to finish, and she can make an informed decision on whether or not she enjoys his company. On the other hand, if The Quarterback had, instead of acting on his honest impulses, considered what actions would make him appear most attractive to the new girl and acted in that manner without primary concern for his natural inclinations (as is common in many nascent relationships), the new girl would then have known a false version of The Quarterback. Obviously then, whether she decided that she liked The Quarterback or not, her judgement would be worthless, since she was not making an informed choice, but instead one determined using invalid data.
In this example, The Quarterback's concern was that she might have been scared by the appearance of his quickly-formed emotional attachment to her. He thought that maybe he had acted too quickly, given the age of their relationship, and that he had possibly appeared to be an overly emotional, sickly romantic, clingy freak. The truth of the matter is that some may see The Quarterback as exactly that type of person, depending on their views on what defines someone as clingy, sickly romantic, etc. However, other people may not see him that way. If The Quarterback is going to find someone he is going to be truly happy with, and he exhibits these behaviors, it would follow that he necessarily needs to find someone who doesn't judge him negatively for being how he is. By repressing his natural impulses to send messages like this, no matter the duration of the relationship, he would be doing both himself and the girl a disservice, as he would evetually become unhappy having to stifle himself in order to be liked, and the girl would essentially be continously defrauded by her own relationship.
The answer is to just do what you feel is best...all the time. If someone doesn't like you because you are a certain way, then you find out quickly and don't waste time on futile relationships. You also afford yourself the necessary right to act truly, and you allow others the inherent right to make informed decisions without being lied to.
Clearly this sort of philosophy doesn't allow for a fear of emotional pain. But, as was discussed in a previous Commentary, the simple answer to that is: Don't Be A Pussy. Acting honestly provides greater benefits, in the long run, than existing in a state of perpetual self-denial and lying to others in order to maintain a false sense of contentment.
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1/23/07 - 3:47pm:
I had a conversation with a friend of mine, recently. I wasn't really thinking much about what I was saying, and at one point, I spit out something to the effect of, "I'd trade a whole lot of shitty, shitty times for one really good one." Over the next couple of days, I sort of let that ruminate in my head, and I tried to decide if that was a reasonable way to live, or if I just sort of habitually heap shit on myself in a desperate, usually futile attempt to grasp a bit of happiness. Well, what I've ended up realizing is that both of those things are true. You go through life, and a lot of horrible shit happens, quite often. Things that make you feel terrible. And then, amongst all the muck and pain, rarely you'll stumble upon something that makes you feel REALLY, REALLY GOOD, even if only for a very short while. I think, really, that that struggle is just inherent to life. Due to the natural selfishness of people, and because you're one of ~6 billion, you more often than not get the short end of the stick...and usually it slams you right in the fucking eyeball or nuts. So, given that the shit:good ratio is naturally going to be very high, it's reasonable to assume that you're going to have to suck it up and deal with a lot of badness for any goodness you hope to procure for yourself.
Accepting that "fact", as it were, is where a lot of people get tripped up, I think. As people grow up and go through bad things, like family disintegration, relationships breaking up, people dying, disappointments in school and work and whatever, most tend increasingly towards one of two behaviors. First off, they might become "jaded", which for the purposes of this discussion can be defined as someone who thinks like, "oh, there's nothing good out there for me...this all just sucks" or, when confronted by a possible opportunity for a good thing thinks, "oh, I'm not going to put myself out there on a limb for this, since every other time I've done it in the past I've just ended up hurt and sad." They instead might go the other way, which is towards "aggressive, blind-to-the-world bitch who pushes everyone away." They go this way because they see it as a defense mechanism, and by pushing others away, they feel safe and isolated.
[As a side note, many of you might find my negative description of the latter personality pretty ironic, since I exhibit this sort of behavior a lot. However, the difference between me and them, I think, is that I don't push everyone away. I push most people away...mostly useless cunts who will add little to nothing to my existance. I do, though, keep myself close to a very few people who I see as worth my motherfucking time and effort. Anyhooz...]
These two personality types do nothing productive for the actor, despite the fact that they may be less prone to externally-induced sadnesses. The jaded people, having abandoned hope of being happy, now have really dug their own grave. As discussed in a previous Commentary, one must choose to be open to happiness before he can become happy. By closing their minds to any possibility of changing their lives, they stick themselves in the very same mucky, worthless, stagnant sadness shithole they hoped to escape. The aggressive bitch personality, on the other hand, provides a different problem for the individual. Basically, everyone hates them. If you exhibit no good qualities and seem like a fucking cunt all the time, nobody will give you a chance, and you will suck forever. People hating you after getting to know you is totally fine, as long as you like yourself. However, being such a cuntface that you allow nobody to even get to know you does nobody any good, most definitely including yourself.
So, what's the answer, then? The answer is to (and pay attention because this is an important concept to take with you throughout life) "SUCK IT UP". Sucking it up involves a number of things, including, but not limited to: not being a pussy, not letting sadness overwhelm your effectiveness in life, processing the bad things that happen to you, coming to terms with them, and moving on, basically keeping your head up and open despite the fact that it's been beaten down many, many, many times before. When bad things happen...don't ignore them. Don't pretend like they don't bother you. It's ok to be bothered by them. Something (in particular among a number of bad things) is bothering me right now, actually, and writing this article is helping me process my problem. I'm basically handling my frustration and sadness (cue emo music NOW!!!) in a way that will allow me to eventually suck it the fuck up and get on with life without turning into either a jaded, worthless emofuck or a crazy(er) overtly aggressive asshat.
So, if you feel sad about something at the moment, don't think you're alone. Everyone is sad about all kinds of stuff, some totally idiotic and some legitimately sucking. But don't for a second think that you're somehow special and that your "terrible life" gives you some kind of lame excuse to become a fuckhead. Suck it up, deal with it, and get on with shit with open eyes, an open mind, and an open heart.
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1/21/07 - 3:30pm:
A little something I threw together a couple days ago. Is it a Man Ray-esque statement on art itself? Is it a subtle insult to art snobs? Is it simply a projection of my general hatred for...people? I leave it to you to decide, my little ones. Enjoy.
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1/12/07 - 11:26am:
You know, I've been thinking about some stuff lately, mostly due to the fact that the same sort of shit has been coming to me from different directions all at once. I think this problem is one of those developmental stages that people go through, or get hung up on, as they grow up. Some people slide right by it, and some just don't. I'm not really sure what to call it, but it's something like self-actualization. This term generally encompasses the development of a full, individual person with goals and an acceptance of self. The latter part is the hard one, it seems. There's a lot of people who hate themselves, in some way. And it comes from a lot of different places, I think. It can spring from bad peers, a bad girlfriend or whatever, but I think the most common source is shit parents. I don't mean that the parents are bad in every way, but that they fuck the kids up in some major way by making bad decisions and acting badly towards them. Whether it's abandonment, aggression, or even threats of those two things, it seems to fuck the kids up pretty nicely. What happens is a kid who thinks something like this: "I'm not good enough for my dad (or whoever), so I'll never be good enough for anyone." And though they may, on the conscious surface, have appeared to rationalize and understand what their father has done, or where his actions originated, they haven't escaped the damage. In effect, they aren't able to accept themselves. They're constantly looking for faults on which they can focus self-insults. It's like they grew up with this negative stream of shit coming in all the time, and they don't know how to live without it. So, when they go off on their own, they themselves become the spewer of the negative shit. Beautiful, eh? And the sad part is, they may know that they have a problem like this, but they can't do anything about it. And neither can people like me...friends or boyfriends or whatever who actually do care and want to see these people succeed and become happy, but can't affect the other person enough. It's kind of like that saying, "you can't help an addict unless they want to be helped." You can't help these people overcome their deep, deep problems for a number of reasons. First, a lot of the time, they don't seem to want to be helped. There's a certain safety in wallowing in self-pity and sadness. I used to sit in that pool of bullshit myself. It gives you an excuse. It gives you an out from the responsibility every person has to himself to become whole and effective as a person. Instead, you can just go, "oh, I'm sad and fucked up, so I'm going to sit here and be sad and not do shit about it." In the end, though, that's fucking retarded. Happiness is a choice, as much as a fucking hate to say that. My mom always used to tell me that, and it sounds like a crock of shit, but it's the truth. And it's not like, "oh, today I'm going to smile a lot!" It's like a relationship, really. Like a relationship with another person, happiness is dynamic and changing, and waxing and waning, and it has different flavors and intensities and reasons and even sacrafices. And also like a relationship with another person, you have to be open to it before it can affect itself on you. If you're sitting behind theis shield of, "I'm that sad person," then you're not even open to the possibility.
Happiness takes action. You know those people who go, "if it's meant to happen, then it will happen"? THEY ARE IDIOTS. Meant by whom? Is your life planned out, such that it will just go along without your involvement and happen as it "should"? No. That's the statement of an apathetic, weak person. One drives one's own life. By sitting behind a barrier of sadness and past bullshit, it's comfortable, but you stop yourself from reaching out and opening yourself to avenues that may help you out of your sadness. It's important to do these things because it teaches you that you CAN be happy. And once you see that that's true, you will never accept unhappiness again. You will see that it's not worth your fucking time. Being sad and shit? Waste of effort. What does it get you? Nothing. It's like worrying. What does worryig do for someone? Nothing! If you know something should be done, or that something might or might not happen that will affect you, MAKE IT HAPPEN! Life isn't a game that just GOES without you. Don't sit idly by and watch it spin around without you attached. Action is what makes change. Not inaction.
Choosing happiness means that you choose to step out from behind the comfort of your sadness and depression. It means choosing to open your mind to the possibility of happiness, no matter how remote it seems at the moment. It means choosing to love your good qualities, and to actively change the ones you don't like. And to continue to do so until you actually like yourself. So while you can't just go, "HAPPY NOW!", you can make the choices to move in that direction. It's up to you to change yourself. Nobody, not God, not your boyfriend, not your mom, nobody but yourself can do it for you. So stop being a pussy and do it for yourself.
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1/27/06 - 11:26pm:
So, in the last few months, the site has been down, back up, and all around the block. But in the end, TheRob.com must survive. And survive it will. At longest last, I've JUST about completed the rebuilding process on the motor. I've come home today for my birthday (the 26th...happy birthday to me, bitches!!!), but I'll finish up the motor probably on Monday and drop it in the car Friday morning. The write-up for the process is also just about complete, and runs through almost every piece of the rebuilding process. Gotta love it. So, that should be up by next weekend or so, so look out. Other new features have also been added. The NewbStyle FAQ is a guide I wrote for little NewbStyleez to read and through which to become informed. It covers just about every newish topic that commonly surfaces, in my experience. Go check it out. Also, the TheRob.com Visitors Map is up and running. I'd like for every visitor to this site to go add him/herself to the map, in order to allow both myself and everyone else to see where the information on this site has gotten to, and where in the world exist the Saturn enthusiasts. So, go visit both pages and put yourself on the map. Soon to come, as well as the rebuilding write-up, is a section on the installation and tuning of the MegaSquirt system, most likely for just fuel (as opposed to both fuel and spark control). And as a final note, I'd like everyone to be sure to note the ads located in the smaller box to the right of the main page box, on every page on the site. These are ads that pay me revenue when they're clicked on. Now, I'm not saying you SHOULD click on them (since that would be wrong...:>P), but if you are interested in one of the ads, feel no trepidation about clicking on it and visiting the link. It's good stuff. Anyways, as always, feel free to contact me by email or IM (contact info on the home page) if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions for the site.
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10/13/05 - 12:03am:
Well, as of the weekend before last, I blew the turbo motor when the oil cooler lines I installed popped off of the sandwich adapter on the back of the block and leaked all the oil out. Sweet. So, I pulled the motor three days ago and have taken the thing completely apart. I just put up a new article detailing all aspects of the engine pull, and will soon be getting around to writing up the engine disassembly and reassembly processes. Get ready, beeshez!
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9/23/05 - 6:44pm:
Some further notes on the turbo project and injectors. So, I was running the 33#ers out of the Quad 4. I was able to hit 6psi with the A/F in a bit high, but reasonable range (about 12.5 max A/F). I turned it up to 8psi, and the A/F jumped a point, so I decided that wasn't a good idea. Today, I swapped in the modified DSM 42.8#ers (450cc) I made, and I'll be trying them out on 8psi. I was able to get them to idle quite well on the 94 by using the idle control feature on the HKS AFR, at -16% fuel. We shall see what happens.
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9/23/05 - 10:39am:
So, after a bunch of small developments, the turbo is running 8psi and actually has MY own intercooler in there now. Schweetness. I think I'm going to swap back in the modified DSM injectors, though, to get some more fuel in there for even more pressure. In other news, what you see to the right is the NOS wet nitrous kit I bought off someone from TSN. Oh yes. The purple car is getting a 50 shot. It's ALSO FINNNNNALLY getting to rebuild the purple car's engine with the 10.5:1CR pistons I've had on the shelf for a fucking year. ~11.5:1 compression ratio plus a nice little 50 shot should be quite nice. Anyhoo, look for nitrous-related updates in the near future...it's gonna be a fun time...shit yeah.
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8/05/05 - 4:36pm:
Soooo, testing for boost leaks can be dangerous to your cleanliness. As I was searching for my leak, I was forced to get on the ground and feel right up under the compressor coupler. Unfortunately, I had parked in what was possibly the most oily, gravelly, sandiest parking spot on the face of the fucking earth. This shit was on my back HARD. It didn't come off with soap. It didn't come off with scrubbing. It finally came off only with about 20 minutes of SCRAPING my back skin off with a rough wash cloth SOAKED in GoJo. GoJo, for those of you who don't know, is the best cleaner for motor oil-type shit EVER. And even GoJo had a problem with this one. It was awesome.
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8/05/05 - 4:20pm:
Ahhh, it was time to move again this past weekend. Everything went pretty smoothly until it got time to move the giant collection of oil bottles I had left outside on the porch over time. What you see to the right is a pan of oil that was left outside after doing the purple car about 6 months ago. However, there was something new about it. Right after I had done the oil, it rained. And in Florida, when it rains after a long period of not raining, something happens...something horrible. BILLIONS of little, tiny frogs come out of somewhere...the ground? the air? whatever. They come and COVER the earth like a fucking plague. If avoiding stepping on them wasn't hard enough to deal with, just imagine my endless fucking joy when I discovered something new in my oil pan. At first, I thought they were some kind of seed pod or something. Oh no. Nononono. I soon noticed that the "seed pods" had EYEBALLS! FUCK. So, what was ACTUALLY floating my pan of oil were the many bloated, rotting bodies of those tiny frogs. DAAAAAAAMN. This was pretty bad. Not bad like the maggot infestation, but pretty fucking bad. The smell was just RANK. I took the pan out to the dumpster VERY carefully and proceeded to dump the contents into the trash, releasing a stench not unlike that of the bowl from the Living With The Rob page that had grown a CRUST of bacteria on the top of it. Anyways, over the next two days as we moved out, the smell increased, and I was proud...because it was MY bowl of rotting frogs...MINE...that ruined the dumpster for all. Bitches.
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4/30/05 - 9:16pm:
Well, it's certainly been a while since I've updated the site. I'm glad to see people are still coming and learning from it, however. I have good news, though. I recently bought a 94 SL2, shown to the right. It has a freshly rebuilt engine in it, disc brakes all around, leather seats (a first), and power everything (another first). The plan is to turbo this thang. The original plan was to use a .42/.48 T3 turbo. However, I procured a mint condition TO4B turbo for very cheap, and have decided to go that route, instead. You can see the difference between the two turbos in this shot. I also bought an intercooler off of a Starion, as well as a 1G DSM BOV and a HUGE 50mm wastegate. For fuel control, I'm going to try 33# GM Quad 4 injectors and an HKS Super AFR piggyback. We shall see how it goes with the wideband to monitor A/F ratios. I'm having a stock 91-92 header made into a turbo manifold by Sam Bretz in Tampa. It's going to be the fucking hotocity. The gigantic external wastegate and big turbo will be a tight fit, but it'll work, I'm sure. Also installed already are 2 10" slim fans working as "pushers" on the outside of the A/C compressor, blowing through to the radiator. Anyways, we'll see how it all works out, and at the very least it'll be a sweet, sweet ass learning experience. Man, do I need some fucking money, though. This shit gets expensive...quick. Check out the new Turbo Build section in the Navigation Bar for installation tutorials.
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1/31/05 - 2:39am:
I had a conversation with someone tonight...on AIM, of course. Ugh. So anyways, I had up an away message that wasn't so nice, and she IMs me and goes, "that's not very nice", and I agreed. She asked why I was so angry all the time, to which I replied that I wasn't angry; I am discontent. She then suggested that I should "find myself", implying, I believe, that when I "found myself", I would be happy. People have suggested this to me before, and while I know they mean well, they're never really able to define what it means to "find yourself". The end result, however, is generally agreed upon to be a happiness within one's self, and a lack of "need" for anything external to one's self. That's fucking ridiculous. Now, I honestly appreciated her concern and the fact that she was trying to help. The problem, though, is that a goal of complete independence from anything else in the world is kind of self-defeating. Life is not about being alone.
Life, in my humble opinion, is about sharing love and learning new things about yourself, other people, and the way the universe functions, as a whole. The learning part is vitally important, but no more important than the sharing love part, "sharing" being the operative word.Love is useless unless expressed, except maybe for ego-related concerns...but in general it is useless when contained. Therefore, I believe that "finding yourself" has less to do with becoming an object independant from everyone else as it does with becoming a being confident enough in yourself to EXPRESS your love for other people and yourself, and to act upon these feelings. The true happiness in life comes from being able to share yourself with another person without inhibition or timidity, and from her being able to reciprocate these actions just as freely. Being happy with yourself is one thing. Being happy with yourself as one half of a true, loving partnership is another. The latter is the path to real fulfillment in life.
The point is this: "Finding yourself" has a lot of different meanings to a lot of different people. To me, it describes the process during which a person FIRST becomes happy with himself, and THEN becomes happy as a companion to another. Then, not only have you found yourself...you've found what's REALLY important in this life.
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1/19/05 - 3:26am:
I was considering my looming future again tonight, as it has a habit of reminding me of itself when I'm at my weakest...in the dark...alone. I was thinking about the snow, the mountains, the clear air. Then, I started to go backwards...back to the flight, the airport, the drive out of Gainesville...and then back to saying goodbye to you. Every time I'm with you, I end up loving you deeper than the time before. Even on the days like today, when you're scared to touch me, or don't want to, or whatever it is...it just makes me realize, as always, how deeply you're ingrained into my soul. It's like torture to have you lie on the other side of the bed, you know...pretending you're too comfortable, when both of us know the perfect, effortless comfort that comes only from our two bodies wrapped tightly around each other, as they were made to be. Even on days like these, I know I'll never be able to say goodbye. I thought about what I could say. I thought about what I could do, that last time. Before I stand up, open the door, and walk away in finality, looking back, of course, as many times as I can bear. And then I realized that all of those scenes are just the creation of a mind trying to rationalize something utterly impossible. You're the reason I am...the reason I've always been. I wish I'd met you long ago, when we were kids...my life would've been so, so different...so much better. And while hindsight is so often flawless, the obviousness of this particular situation permits, for once, foresight without error, as well. I need you now, and I'm going to need you always if I plan to sit on this Earth for any length of time. And it sickens me to the point of nauseousness to remember just how long it took me to figure myself out. A year ago you were ready, in the seemingly limitless faith you've had in me to become a decent person one day, to try again. And, even now it makes me sick, I refused your open arms because I was still too ignorant to see the immeasurable gift you were willing to give me. My only solace is knowing that now, finally, after all the anger and doubt and mistrust and love, I am utterly ready for you. You are the only one who means anything to me in this world, besides the family, which you are, in my heart, a part of already. And so, yet again...as I often find myself doing...I try to will the fate of the universe to bring you to me one final time, so that we can be what we are meant to be. Maybe it's prayer...maybe it's wishing...I dunno. But I do know that you are the only future that I can face, and that you mean literally everything to me...life, posessions, everything. I'd give it all away in a second for one last chance.
I love you too much to put into words.
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1/09/05 - 4:36am:
You know...this is the first drunk posting I've made on my site, I think. But in this case, I don't think it's a detriment to the point. In some ways, alcohol allows one to speak more freely. And that's the point. To make you poor motherfuckers understand my fucked, fucked, fucked up mind. Anyway...here goes...I've been making an effort, recently, to ovecome my natural hatred for human beings and meet some new, nice people. While it's been a somewhat successful experience, I haven't made any significant breakthroughs. I dunno...I am tired, tired to the core of me, of living a life devoid of all love. It's truly killing me slowly, from the inside out. It's like a bacterial infection. You can take only so much. After that point, it explodes into a desperate attempt to save yourself. And the truth is, desperation only leads to failure. It leads to bad judgement and superficial results. I don't know what to do. I have no answer to the root of all my problems. In the end, it's really quite simple. The major difficulty in my life can be summed up in one sentence, and yet I, with my tens of thousands of years of evolution and inborn human compassion, am unable to solve it. Living a life without love will kill me...whether by a chronic rotting of my soul, or by an acute act, it will be my end. I am unable to survive like this. It's that simple. Fuck.
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1/07/05 - 3:41am:
I was thinking...
The new ones come around,
And for a minute, I'm decieved.
Happily decieved, but decieved nonetheless.
It's sad, really.
To know the truth is such a heavy burden,
Sometimes it's unbearable to consider.
I'd like to, but my mind is too kind to allow that.
You know that shape we used to make,
When we would lie together?
And fit, literally fit together, like a puzzle...perfection.
It makes me so, so, so sad to miss that.
The comfort of those moments was beyond words,
Beyond any sort of communication.
And I feel bad for that,
Simply because that amount of joy is hard to keep to yourself.
And it eases the pain, kind of,
To know that the world isn't always,
So very cold, rough, and harsh as it appears,
And that somewhere, you exist.
Even if you are far away from me, God forbid,
I can at least gain a slight bit of solace,
Knowing that I wasn't created alone.
That I have a counterpart in the world.
And even if you forever deny the fact,
The love we both have,
I want you to know I won't forget.
I'll think of you very often, and thank you for just being.
But it makes me sad to know,
I'll probably never feel that utter peace again.
However good it gets,
My puzzle will, forever, be incomplete.
It's the physical representation of the giant hole in my heart,
That is impossible to fill without you.
And once again, sleep eludes me so very well.
For the obvious reason that,
I am unable, at least in body,
To wrap myself around the one thing that means anything to me.
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1/02/05 - 1:38am:
So, I finally got around to recording some of the songs I've written over the past three years...well, I've recorded some before, but these are the first recordings I feel like sharing with anyone. They suck, but not because they're bad songs. They suck mainly because I can neither play guitar or sing well, but that's what I do, so fuck it. Anyway, they can be streamed down from here. Lemme know what you think...if you like them, that is. If not...well...eat shit, cuz nobody cares.
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1/01/05 - 8:48pm:
Well, last night was pretty boring. I was nice to go hang out with Eric and Tom and whatnot, along with a few others from high school, but whatever. The important part was the fireworks. Travis had brought some absolutely gigantic BOXES of fireworks up from South Carolina. They had one fuse which, when lit, sould set of all of the fireworks in the box in sequence, which was sweet. So, we went to place the fireworks out in the middle of a big field and to set them off. Right as we're about to light the fuses, a cop pulls over some guy probably about 300 yards from where we're kneeling. We retreat back into the underbrush to decide what to do. We decide to set them off anyway...fuckit. So, we plant the boxes, light the fuses, and run around the block back to the house across the street from the field, so we can watch the proceedings. The fucking things go CRAZY...it's awesome. We go inside, and the cop starts driving around on the field. They call in one or two more cops, and shine their lights all over the place for like 15 minutes. They finally left and we went on our way. Drank most of a bottle of champagne and got pretty fucked up...that champagne drunk is a nice one...good shit. Anyway, in closing, I'd like to extend a hearty "Fuck You" to humanity for the coming year...you worthless assholes.
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12/26/04 - 9:03pm:
Despite my best efforts (well, actually, DUE TO my intense laziness), I was unable to get wireless access while I was as Vail. I'm sure, if had bothered to take the laptop into the village with me, I could've found a wireless netowrk to get up on, but I decided that I just didn't quite give enough of a fuck. However, despite the lack of updates, lots of cool ass shit happened this December in Vail, I must say. The elder Roths (of Winter Break 2003) came up and joined us for a couple days. As well, the youngest Roth, Jamie, is now an instructor at Vail, so she was around, too, from time to time. It didn't snow much except for Wednesday, on which day it was somewhere around -18 degrees F. Yes, that's correct...NEGATIVE EIGHTEEN. Plus, with the snow and all, it was a fucking trial, at least in the morning. During the afternoon, the weather cleared up a bit, despite the constant ridiculous temperatures. It was the first time in my entire life I had to cover my face while riding. I took one run with my face uncovered and decided that if I did that again, I'd be in for some major frostbite. It makes sense, I suppose, considering it was probably around -30 with the wind chill while riding, and the snow hitting my face and freezing.
Anyhoo, they didn't have any sort of park shit set up for the first day or two. They did, however, eventually get the rail park set up, and that was fun. I learned a couple new things, including lip and tail slides, and also did a nasty declined rail with a nice gap before it. I saw one other person try that rail during the whole week. The problem was that you couldn't see the rail at all until you'd left the little laucnh ramp leading up to it, since it ran down a pretty steep incline. You just kinda had to pick your balls up, aim the board at the butt of the rail, and jump. While in the air, you'd figure out if you were going to break anything in the next few seconds. It worked out ok, though, in the end.
I also ran into a teacher of mine from last year, named Matt. Unlike most of the youths in the Vail area, he doesn't spend his entire non-riding life in the bar. In fact, he doesn't drink at all. The reason for this restraint, he explained, was because he had been previously "spoiled" by hardcore narcotics, making the effects of alcohol somewhat underwhelming. Oh well. Anyway, in lieu of drinking, we went to one of his friend's house one night and skated the miniramp she had in her garage. It was surprisingly fun, too, since I hadn't ridden a miniramp on a skateboard in probably six years or so. Despite the long break, I was eventually able to drop into the miniramp, which I was proud of. I ended up waiting for the bus at like 11:30pm, when it was about -10 degrees out...in basically an underarmor shirt and a tshirt...nice! I also got to try out his snowskate, which is essentially a skateboard that has a snowboard attached on the bottom, with a space of about 2.5 to 3 inches between them. It was a bit odd the first couple of times, since it steers like of like a snowboard, but lacks the giant edges. It got it after a while, though, and it was pretty fun.
The mother and I went, Friday night, on The First Annual Bent Family Anti-Christmas Eve Vail Pub Crawl. Last year's crawl was held in March, due to age issues, but will now be held at least once a year, in December. The March crawl lasted all of two bars, since our collective alcohol tolerance amounts approximately to that of a three-pound premature baby. I was determined to do better this time. Alas, the mother was only able to muster the strength to down two drinks. I held up the family pride (and idiocy), however, by convincing her to come to a third bar, where I drank two beers for a total of four drinks (six for the two of us). Unfortunately, the mother was too drunk to pimp me out this year, I think, since it's a regular ocurrance any time we get to going out. It was still fun, though. On the way home, we did a rendition of the "trance music dancing guy" we had just been laughing at from the last bar.
All in all, it was a good trip. A bit of progression (remember, kiddies...It's All About Progress), a bit of high-altitude drunkenness, and a lot of eating, sleeping, and riding. Can't ask for a whole hell of a lot more, I suppose...until March, at least.
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12/19/04 - 11:20am:
Mmmmmm...eggnog. Last night Berry (of www.BeatBox.tv fame) had a sweetass Christmas party, so the brother, myself, and a couple others went over to hang out. Berry's wife made a whole assload of homemade eggnog. I'd never had that shit before, and let me tell you, it's the hotocity, bitches. It's like eating a whiskey milkshake. Anyhoo, that was cool, except that after drinking, I went to sleep at 2am, only to get up again at 5:30am to go...yes, that's right, bitches...to VAIL. It's that time of year again. Time to strap on the board, gather up the balls, and throw myself off whatever mound of rock or snow I can find. Good shit. We're going to be there from today until the 26th, which is a long ass time. My goals for this trip: don't break bones, don't stretch any ligaments, and relearn frontside 540s...at the least. There will be updates as cool shit happens. I will keep you posted, no doubt.
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12/17/04 - 3:06am:
I was reading TSN tonight, and someone posted a link to this page by Andy Milonakis (seen [as Cuppy] to the right). This kid is completely fucking nuts. He makes videos that are awesome. You MUST go check this shit out. It's kind of like old Andy Kauf(f?)man shit. Either you get it..or you suck. Make sure to watch the Chunky Peanut Butter Boy video and My Penis Hole(Song), as well as Inspiration and Jesus Is Real. This is definitely some of the best shit I've ever seen.
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12/07/04 - 7:41pm:
Last night, Eric sent me this sweet ass song called "I Don't Give a Fuck" by Peaches. I decided that it was so fucking badass, I had to make it into a ringtone. I ended up making two of them, actually. I thought I'd be the benevolent dictator today and provide you with some EXCLUSIVE www.TheRob.com CONTENT, BITCHES!!! Anyway, download this file and this file. Now, use the form on this page to send these files to your phone. This process will only work if you have a sweet ass Sanyo Sprint phone, probably. You also need it to be internet ready, or you will be charged out the ass. Not my problem, motherfucker. Other phones will probably work, but I dunno which ones. Try it out and see. If you use either of these ringers, let me know, so I can expand my ego to even greater enormity.
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11/30/04 - 10:20pm:
Mmmmm...Thanksgiving. Can't beat that with a stick. Let's see...I get to go home after three straight months of hell (Florida), and then they proceed to stuff me as full as humanly possible with nothing other than MEAT PRODUCTS. MmmmmmmmmFuckingSWEET! Got to see Tom and Eric, too. We went to this tightness jazz bar called Twins, near U Street, after smizzzoking some wizzeeed. It was some really good shit. Then, we went to this other bar place where a girl from high school was having her birthday party. These fucking people. I didn't like them in high school, and they're not any better now. Anyway, fuckem. I did, however, run into a few kids from MIDDLE SCHOOL while drunk, so that was fun. Worked on a little music with the brother while I was home, as well, so that was good. Also went to a good performance in Bethesda by another group my brother records for. Incidentally, ran into ANOTHER kid from middle school, which was entirely fucking weird. Who woulda thought. Anyway, the sweetest thing is what followed. I came back to my apartment to discover that I had left a batch of chicken wings sitting on the counter for the past week (or two) and had forgotten (or more likely not cared) to throw them out. Skinny Jake came over to play drums and shit, and ended up finding them. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to share with you all the wonder of rotting, moldy chicken wings (see picture to the right). Sweet shit.
Oh yeah, and in another awesome development on the food front, I discovered last week, while perusing the fine selection at the great and wonderous WallyMart, that there is now a bag you can buy that contains AN ENTIRE MOTHERFUCKING POUND OF BEEF JERKY. "The Pounder", indeed. Your ass will be pounding the toilet with dehydrated beef jerky poops if you don't have an adequately developed digestive system. That's for damn sure. Now, note that this shit isn't the really good beef jerky. It's the lower quality (read: contains misc. body parts [penis, tongue, eyeball, etc.]), kippered shit. However, it still qualifies as beef jerky, on my scale. And really, any time you can get a pound of dried meat, in any form, you should pay homage to whatever God you believe in for this miraculous blessing. You lucky bastards. I shouldn't have even told you about this shit. Leave me a bag, bitches!
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11/23/04 - 12:07pm:
Well, a bunch of shit has been going on lately. First of all, Skinny Jake and I have taken on a project car. He bought a 1.8L, 91 GS Eclipse for $150. We're gonna boost it. We have a TB0334 Chrysler turbo, a 1G DSM intercooler, and a stock supra BOV in our posession. An HKS AFR is on the way to manage the fuel, as well. This setup is going to be the sweetest thing you'll see ALL DAY...guaranteed. Also on the car front, I took my beast to the track last Wednesday, only to discover that the fucking clutch Jay, Sam, and I put in a while ago, with the lightweight flywheel, slips like a motherfucker if it's launched on. Sooooooo, that sucked. I still ran a 15.225 1/4 and got a 2.269 60' with the fucked clutch, but this thing should be running like 14.5-14.7. I ordered a sweet, sweet ass ACT 6 puck clutch yesterday, and it should be in within the next two weeks. Problem solved.
Finally, it was Vinny's (of STC) birthday this past weekend, so I went down to Orlando to join in the surprise party thrown for his ass. That was some pretty fun shit. This one motherfucker (What in the HELL is he doing with his hands in that picture, by the way?!) took SIX shots of Crown Royal in 17 seconds for $31. He was alright after those, so in an hour or so, he decided to take SEVEN MORE shots of Crown (one of which was a double...so more like eight) for another $50. After the second round, he was decidedly NOT ok. The guy who bet him the $50 was whining because the guy prompty passed the fuck out. However, the bet they had did not stipulate anything about states of consciousness, only that the kid couldn't puke for half an hour after the eight shots. Therefore, he was told to stop being a sandy vagina loser, but he was unrelenting in his cunty-ness. Whatever the case, he didn't get his fucking money back because, in the ultimate display of irony, the drunk ass guy woke up and power washed the floor with his gut contents approximately ONE MINUTE after the half hour timer had gone off, declaring him the "winner". Awesome. The picture you see to the right is of the drunk guy, passed out, after having been hog-tied by Sam. Now THAT was comedy. Anyhoo...lesson of the day, bitches...don't make bets you can't afford to lose. Also, whining about losing a bet makes you look intensely cunty, toolish, and bitch-like. So don't do it. Suck it up and take your loss like a man. At least you can enjoy the thought of the poor bastard waking up the next morning in the obvious agony supplied by the ingestion of motherfucking FOURTEEN shots of Crown Royal. Idiots.
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11/2/04 - 8:30pm:
I hope you motherfuckers voted today. If you didn't, you're an idiot. As close as this country is to becoming 1. The laughingstock of the entire planet, and 2. A shithole ruled by religious zealot tardfucks, you had better have fucking voted. No bitching about "economy this, legislature that" for you apathetic fucks. You've now got four years of "shut the fuck up" time because you suck. If you voted for Bush, you're a complete retard, but it's good that you voted. At least you played an ACTIVE role in destroying the country. Good job, dickeaters!
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11/02/04 - 3:55pm:
I found out today that a guy I used to work with killed someone last week, and almost killed another in the same incident. We were never the best of friends or anything, but he was definitely someone I knew and had som respect for. He's a tough motherfucker and looks like he's about made out of brick. There's a spot online where you can look up recent arrest records. I looked up his name, and it came up with the information regarding his charges, his personal stats, and included a mugshot from the time of booking, I believe. It was the saddest picture I have ever seen in my life. I just sat there and stared at it for the longest time. It's amazing how lives come together and diverge like they do. Sometimes, I have dreams where I kill someone, or have killed them, and I am running or get caught. It's a terrible feeling. I looked at the picture and understood his sadness, I think. He was a good guy, I think. He got into drugs and coke and shit, and I guess he changed. His mugshot kind of looked like an alien, deformed version of the guy I knew. He was looking off into space, kind of dazed. I can only imagine his thoughts. The regret for what he did. The anger towards himself. The wish that he could take it back. It scares me to see what life can be. One mistake and you're fucked for good. I asked another friend of mine what would happen to him. I was told he'd go to jail for at least 30 years. He'll be an old man when he gets out. I can't imagine the sorrow he must feel knowing that he won't get to live probably a third of his life or more as a free man. I want to tell him it will be ok, but I don't know. I just hope he is able to take care of himself and survive to see freedom again. It makes me appreciate what I have. It makes me realize what a gift it is to live the life I do. It makes me watch myself, because you never know what will happen, every second of your life. Be careful.
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11/1/04 - 9:14am:
So, Skinny Jake came back from a weekend visit to his home and brought me a present, which you can see to the right. It's a Roland MIDI drum setup. And this thing is not for fucking kiddies. It's absolutely awesome. He has pads for the cymbals, but real-feel drum heads for the snare, kick, and toms. Fucking balls. This thing is great. We played last night, and it was so fun. The great thing is that you can make the drum set as loud or quiet as you want, so you can play at 2am without people fucking with you. So tightness. Anyway, the M-Audio interface should be coming in today, so all is coming together well. The guy didn't ship the Rode NT1 until friday or some shit, so it'll be here wednesday, they say. Be jealous, bitches. Music is fucking awesome.
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10/28/04 - 9:16pm:
Last night, starting around 9:30, there was a lunar eclipse. These aren't the really rare ones. Those are solar eclipses. Last time I saw one of those was in 3rd grade or something. Anyway, I like eclipses. They kind of put you in your place. You get a perspective on exactly where you lie in the universe that you usually aren't aware of. Anyway, I tried to take some pictures with my phone, but they didn't turn out well. The mother, however, took some good shots of the event with her professional-type shit. So, here you can see the moon mid-eclipse. Pretty fucking tight, no? Exactly. Also, I got the mandrel bends installed in the car. Fucking awesomeness. Here's a shot of the s-curve from the end of the resonator back towards the rear crossmember. Here's a shot of the rest of the system, coming over the crossmember and back towards the muffler. Smoooooooooth. I can tell the difference. It's fucking great.
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10/25/04 - 9:50pm:
I would also like to make a note on another subject...namely, the eating of poop. You see, my friend Eric recently ate too much poop. Whilst tossing an abnormally large amount of salad, Eric managed to ingest a lot of feces (a.k.a. FEKEZ). I made a diagram for Eric's benefit above. It shows how NOT to eat poop. NOT eating poop is a good idea. Eric discovered that E. Coli 0157:H7 is a nasty variant of the normally harmless E. Coli that live in our guts. It makes you puke and shit a lot for a couple days. It's often what people refer to as "food poisoning". That and Salmonella, at least. Anywhooo, make sure to heed my advice. Eating poop is not generally a good idea...generally.
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10/25/04 - 9:09pm:
This, my dear bitches, is a mandrel "J-bend". They make me do the happy face. There are two kinds of bends you can have in an exhaust system: mandrel bent and crush bent. Mandrel bends are better because unlike crush bending, the mandrel bending process maintains a constant pipe diameter throughout the bend. A crush bent pipe generally loses about 20-25% of its diameter during the bend, which restricts exhaust flow and creates friction due to the expansion and contraction of the gasses in the pipe. Both of these effects will probably cause loss of power, especially in the top end. My exhaust system, up until now, has been 2.25" crush bent, with a portion of 2" crush bent. That means that my exhaust diameter in the bends is from about 1.5" to 2". Tooooooo smaaaaalllllll. Now, don't get the idea that bigger is always better with exhaust piping. People running 3" exhausts on naturally aspirated Saturns are losing power. They'd do much better to run 2.25", or at the very most, 2.5". Tomorrow morning, I'm having my exhaust cut off after the resonator and replaced with mandrel bends. Should yield some more power, especially on top, where it should be. I'm hoping I don't lose too much low end torque, but we'll see how it goes. I also finally ordered the rings for the pistons today, and the bearings will be ordered tomorrow. Hopefully, everything will be in and ready for tuning two weeks from today.
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10/23/04 - 10:54am:
For the past four or five years, I've gotten back into writing songs. Some of them suck, some of them turned out ok, and some of them are fucking great. I've recorded some of them over time, since my brother is a producer. However, I've never really gotten the opportunity to record a lot of them all at once, at my own pace. So, for the last couple years, I've been trying to figure out some way to get high fidelity recordings onto my laptop. Well, it all just went down. I bought the thing you see to the right, an M-Audio Firewire Solo. It has one XLR (mic) input and one 1/4" instrument input. It uses firewire, so the latency should be tiny, if there's any at all. I also got a Rode NT1 condenser mic. I've used this mic extensively with my brother for instrumentation, beatbox, and vocals, so I know it's range of abilities pretty well. In addition, using a similar setup will allow my brother and I to swap tracks back and forth in order to collaborate on songs and whatnot, despite the 1000 miles between us, while maintaining a higher level of compatibility between our recordings. Finally, I got a set of wireless headphones, so for once I can avoid having to deal with wires hitting the guitar, being too short, getting snagged, tripping people up, etc. These should make it much nicer. I hope they don't induce any interference with the guitar pickup or the inherent noise of the mic or interface. We'll see,I suppose. Anywhoo, the upshot is that I'll finally get to lay all my shit down to my liking. How glorious. Oh yeah, and the Jake's and I went to Kazbor's on Thursday for AYCE wings, and I found out that they have AYCE SIDES, too. So, I got some Hot Teriyaki wings and CHILI. AYCE wings and chili...ummmmm...yup.
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10/19/04 - 10:50pm:
Sooooooo, couple things. First of all, I got my FUCKING SWEEEEEEEEEEETASSSSSSSS LAPTOP. It fucking is so tightness. You can see it's magnificence here. A month without a computer was quite a bitch for me, as I'm sure it was for you, as I couldn't be updating as frequently as I know you need my shit. Anywhoo, for those of you who give a fuck (read: ZERO), I have an update on my happenings. Over the last couple weeks, I've been doing a lot of what one might call "really stupid shit while drunk". You see, I've found that, as many alcoholics could undoubtedly tell you, alcohol is a wonderful pain reliever, both physically and emotionally. And unlike certain conventional pain relievers, which are toxic in high doses, alcohol is toxic at ANY dose, so who fucking cares if you drink too much. Throwing up from drinking too much poison is generally looked down upon in society, with the glaring exception of everyone's favorite two-carbon intoxicant, ethanol. So, anyway, I've been doing a lot of drinking lately, usually with the Jakes, to whom you all have been previously introduced. The fun part, however, is when you start throwing Skinny Jake's new motorcycle into the equation. We usually go for a ride at some point during the night. We have, so far, accomplished the following (with both of us riding on the bike like jackasses, of course): two completely insano hardcore wheelies, laying down the bike at approximately 1 MPH in a PARKING LOT, running off the road whilst attempting an entrance onto the highway, and going over 150 MPH on said highway. Safety-conscious as always, I insist on wearing the helmet, as seen to the right. Jake is left to the sunglasses, which probably isn't the best idea, since his contacts drying to his eyeballs was what ran us off the road that one time going like 40 MPH. But really, who cares. If we crash going 100+ on the bike, we're dead for sure, so whatthefuckever. My brains would just be the ones mashed to the inside of the helmet, instead of directly onto the pavement. Anyway, I was starting to think to myself, "maybe these self-destructive actions are a sign of something more seriously wrong." But by the time I got to contemplating this thought, I was drunk again, so whatever. A couple days ago, I considered going to therapy. I quickly realized, though, the lesson for tonight: Therapy Is For Pussies. Except for this one girl. She goes to therapy and she's not a pussy, but she knows who she is. For everyone else, though, the lesson applies. Drink a lot of poison, do mildly suicidal things while drunk, and generally say "fuckit". You'll be ok in the end. Either that, or you'll die. Dying is for pussies, too, though, so don't fuck up.
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10/10/04 - 10:11pm:
Not as if it were any sort of consolation for the time of my fucking life I've been having these past bunch of days, but my pistons, seen to the right, and my sweetass solid motor mounts came in on Saturday. I still have to order rings and bearings for the piston swap, but I decided to put in the mounts on Saturday. First off, up until now, I've been running either the stock mounts (aka jelly) or Twistec aluminum mounts with polyurethane inserts. MY idle is artificially high, so I didn't hardly feel a change in vibration from the Twistecs. However, I was a bit worried when I saw these new mounts. These motherfuckers are made of steel, and have DELRIN inserts. Delrin is a plastic that is also what's called a "lubricating solid", as I was told my Skinny Jake. That means that while this shit is hard as a fucking rock, as it wears, it lubricates the surface it's contacting. Anyway, the upshot is that this stuff is like stone. The first time I tried to install the mounts, I found them to be about 3/32" too wide to fit in. So, after a mighty struggle, I said fuck it and went to work...late. After I got back, I went at them with the dremel and shaved off some material. The top mount went in ok after that, but the second one took some prying and hammering to get in. Dunno if that's sucha hot idea, but it is what it is. So, FINALLY, everything is back together and I go to start the car. On the first crank, the car shakes violently, and I stop to think if I had done something that might be inadvertently fucking with the turnover of the engine. After deciding that this wasn't the case, I cranked it over again and it started. HOLY SHIT. It was like sitting inside a gigantic vibrator. These mounts take up NO vibration. EVERYTHING is transferred to the chassis. Again, maybe not such a hot idea, but who knows. Anyway, it's not that bad, except from about 2300-2800RPM, within which range, the engine seems to come out of its smooth resonance with the rest of the car and just shake shit up. But otherwise, it's ok. Should kill some wheelhop, that's for damn sure. No way my mom is driving in the car anymore. No fucking chance. Anyhoo, I'll get pics and a writeup for the piston swap up as soon as it's completed.
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10/09/04 - 4:08am:
Soooooooo...I just had the worst three days of my life. Went to lunch with "Kelly" (a.k.a girl of constant subject in this Commentary) on Wednesday, and all was going nicely. Then, she told me that she couldn't really see and/or talk to me much anymore. Not suprisingly, I started to wig out pretty hard. When she drove me back to my apartment, I got even worse. It was not a good time, at all. I ended up punching the wall outside of the apartment and doing something bad to my pinky knuckle. Didn't feel it for a long time, though, so it was ok. I had to go to work at the time, but I couldn't do anything other than just kind of lay sprawled out on my bed and cry my ass off. I eventually was able to tear myself off the mattress and drag my ass into work. That was quite a time. It was like someone had just hit me in the head with a baseball bat. I couldn't think, I couldn't focus, I couldn't do anything other than try not to wig the fuck out again. After work, I got home and pretty much sunk into a solid mix of panic and depression. That was great. I had no idea what to do. I intermittently cried and thought. Then, I'd cry some more until I couldn't think staright. Then, I'd be ok for a while. Then, I'd start thinking again and start going crazy again. And on and on. Finally, sleep took pity on my mind and put me to rest.
Thursday wasn't much different. Went to school, which was alright at times, since it made me stop thinking so much. But just having to deal with the weight of my mind and what had happened totally exhausted me. Going to work on Thursday was terrible. I was a zombie. A very depressed zombie. I talked to my mom on Thursday, and I had a new experience. Not one of those good ones, though. Definitely not good. We were talking, and I was crying so hard, I started to hyperventilate realllly badly. Then, all of a sudden, I felt really dizzy, my head felt hot and tingly, and my hands got all numb and weird. I knew what was happening, so I just told my mom I had to force myself to calm down and was able to eventually avoid passing out. Anyway, that was fun...riiiiight. So, Thursday was terrible.
Friday, today, was just about as bad. At least I wasn't having to consciously stop myself from crying IN PUBLIC. That's no good. I decided now was a good time to try and write out some thoughts on the subject. So, here's what I have figured out so far: First of all, the sickening irony of life makes me want to shoot myself in the face. Basically, she's doing EXACTLY the same thing I did when I broke up with her in the first place. She's unsure of what she really wants to do, and wants to be positive of who she wants to be with. The sad thing is that I totally understand her feelings. So, I have no recourse in anger. I can't be mad. I did the same thing, in a worse form, to her, myself. Second, pushing her away was the worst mistake I've ever made in my life...hands down. I couldn't see it back then, because I was too young in the head and too unsure of myself and my needs and wants, but she is truly the other half of my soul. She is what completes my being. I lived 19 years without her, and it was ok because I was ignorant to what life really was like. I was living kind of a half-existance. Then, I met her and everything became clear. Life can be a wonder so great that it's impossible to put into words. But, at the time, I was too blind to see the perfect complement sitting right in front of my face. I knew when I first pushed her away that my life would never be the same, and that feeling has only compounded with time. She enlightened me to the true excellence that life can give; The incredible happiness that can occur when the two people right for each other are together. Which is why I say that making her go was the worst thing I've ever done, because she still believes that I feel the unsure-ness I had before, and she feels like she can't trust me enough to give me her heart again. That's what really kills me. I told her that I wished she could see into my heart for just a second. To see what I've learned over time. To see the person I've grown into. To see the man she needs and who needs her like he needs oxygen to live every day. But that's impossible. For her, I guess, time is the only healer. But the problem is that we don't have a lot of time left. I need her in my life. And since we broke up, I've always had a sense that everything was ok because she was still in my viscinity. Because in the end, it could still work. But now, I have serious, grounded doubt. And that's why I'm panicking my ass off. I can't leave here without her. I won't survive. I just can't. And now I don't know what to do. I can't make her trust me. I can't make her see what's right. The ball is completely and utterly in her court now, and I am sick thinking she might not realize what she is passing up right now. She told me she needs to take steps toward stability. And the fact is that, two years ago, I wasn't a stable person. I couldn't even maintain the most intense loving relationship of my life. But I've changed. Being stable doesn't mean you have to settle for someone who isn't meant for you. An intense, true love isn't something to run away from. It's something to be cherished and nurtured and accepted. Choosing an inferior relationship for the sake of easy-to-deal-with half-feelings is the most terrible kind of waste. Giving up the chance to be truly happy and at peace is a horrific mistake. Believe me, I did it myself. And now, see what happened.
I don't know what to do. I just don't. The prospect of losing her forever is slowly (quickly) killing me. It eats me every second of every day. I can't live without her. It's a fact of my life. She is as needed by me as my legs are to walk. It's like someone ripped out my lungs and said, "Breathe! What do you mean you can't breathe? You don't needs lungs to breathe!" I can't deal with this kind of loss. It's quite a bit too much for me. I honestly pray she comes back. I pray she sees the truth soon. Otherwise...I just don't know.
Life can be a vicious bastard.
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10/05/04 - 5:52pm:
I've noticed something interesting lately. Usually, when one is subjected to a stimulus for a long time, one develops some kind of resistance to it. Well, I think I've finally started to become resistant to a certain level of sadness. I've been generally quite unhappy for the last.....about year and a half, minus about a month or two. These feelings all correspond with the girl mentioned previously coming in and out of my life. By the way, if you think that's a little too emo for you, then fuck off. I don't care. Anyways, what's happened is that I've become accustomed to the constant, mid-level unhappiness that's always present. It's not that I don't notice it. It's just kind of like a constant burning in the pit of your stomach. You have to get used to it or die. It still sucks, though. It bothers me every day, but what can I do about it? Not a whole hell of a lot. And it's kind of sad, because I've always been a great proponent of being happy within one's self. But for me, I guess I've found something that really IS missing; it's something I can't replace from within. Anyway, my callous to this general depression became highly apparently to me today, so I thought I'd comment on it. I spoke to the girl, and I feel like our relationship is changing. It's just not the same as it used to be. It's like if your parents (assuming you have a good family to begin with) all of a sudden stopped telling you they loved you. First, you'd probably be ok with it. Then, you'd begin to wonder how they felt. After a while, you'd begin to heavily doubt their love for you anymore. And in the end, I suppose, you'd realize that they didn't love you anymore. Losing the assurance of an unconditional love like that is really quite frightening. Sounds kind of pussified to say it like that, but that's how it is. It makes you feel very alone. Hence, general sadness. What's weird, though, is that my response to my level of unhappiness doesn't have a linear correlation. I'll be ok to a point, then suddenly fall over a certain threshold and won't be able to take it anymore. I go from being pretty calm, on the outside, at least, to being overwhelmingly sad, aggressive, and very much wanting to "go away". Not to any place in particular. Just somewhere by myself, I guess. I dunno. Anyway, the suddenness of the change surprised me today. Thought it might make for some mildly entertaining light reading....bitches.
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9/30/04 - 1:39pm:
What the fuck...about 3 fucking days after the power came back on from Frances, the hard drive on my laptop took a shit on me. So, no more computer for now. I am currently relegated to the apartment complex's computer lab, which is incredibly annoying and hampers my usually awesome creative ability. Wanted to give an update, though, until the shit gets rolling for real again. Big plans for the car, as always. I bought some Ross forged 10.5:1 pistons, which means I'll be running about 11.5:1 compression ratio when they're in. In addition, I bought some STEEL dogbone mounts, so I won't have to deal with the fucking Twistec aluminum pieces of shit ovalling anymore and squishing out the bushing. THAT can't be good. I've also said "fuck it" to the back half of the car and gutted it out almost completely. Nobody ever sits back there, since I don't have enough friends to fit a four-seater car, it just collects masses of shit, and it's dead weight I don't need. I also recently replaced my cat with a high-flow and the shitty ass resonator I had with a nice, straight through, 31" Thrush Magnum glasspack, so while it's (quite) a bit louder now, it doesn't drone at all, which is what bothered my ears. I like it. I think it made a difference, since I dropped about 60 pounds or so, and it keeps it clean back there, since any trash that's there immediately starts clanging around since the carpet is gone, prompting me to go pick it up. With the back of the car gutted and the smaller battery, along with a couple other, smaller things, I've dropped a bit over 80 pounds since I was last at the track. Can't hurt, I figure. Soooooo, everything should be in by next week, and hopefully I can get everything in that next weekend or so. Who knows, though. I certainly can't swap pistons by myself, so we'll see when it gets done. Soon, though, and there will be sweet, sweet ass pictures, of course. Oh, and somethign esle interesting. I swapped out the ECTS, since mine went very, very bad, and the computer didn't like knowing what temperature it was REALLY running at. So, I made a 5V circuit and I can now control what engine temp the computer sees using a tiny potentiometer, thanks to the Jakes, seen to the right. They are these two engineering guys who live together and are both named Jake. The smaller one is named Jake 2, or Skinny Jake. The bigger one is, of course, Jake 1, or "Big" Jake. Jake 2 had this tiny, tiny ass potentiometer at his house and came through when Radio Shack failed to provide. Excellent. I also got an Autometer Water Temp gauge so I can read the ACTUAL engine temp, which has been perfect, so far. Anyhoo...that's all for now. More shit to come soon, so stay tuned.
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9/17/04 - 8:23am:
Sooooo, this fucking apartment complex JUST got the goddamn internet back up after over two fucking weeks of being down. Hurricane Frances tore this bitch up, but nothing special, Some smashed cars, trees down, etc. I actually was driving around in the hurricane, and pulled around a downed tree and saw this beauty. I went back out in the storm with no clothes on (almost) to go take this picture, so love me, bitches. It was taken with someone else's nice ass digital camera, so that's why it's all weird. Anyway, this guy's car got fucking OWN-ED. Wow. Hahahaha. One of about three or four people in Gainesville that I know of who got the good ol' tree-on-car. Sucks to be that one. and I know the picture is dark, but yes, that is the tree still on top of the guy's car. Narsty. Anyway, I got a bunch of shit I gotta post, but I'll get around to that later today or something. Just wanted to let all yoose people know that my shit is back up, so we're in business, yet again.
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9/3/04 - 2:55am:
Well, I talked to the girl I spoke of in the 7/26/04 Commentary. She actually encouraged me to post what I'd written about her and me. She feels like it will allow you people to see something of my "inside", and she's probably right. Anyway, as a preface, you should understand a few things before you read what I wrote. This girl fundametally changed the way I see the world, and especially the people in it. She taught me many, many lessons about life and my place in it. Most importantly, though, she was able to show me how deeply, completely, and passionately two people could love each other, and how absolutely unbreakable the bond of pure, honest love is.
The saddest part of it all is how truly impossible it is for me to express myself, in words, when talking about this relationship. I did my best, but when I read over it, it just doesn't encompass the depth and breadth of my connection to this girl. I guess the best way to think about it is to try and imagine loving someone utterly completely, with your entire body and being. Then, imagine loving them with an infinitely endless amount of passion that you can't even begin to describe with any semblance of accuracy. Finally, realize that the concept you've now generated in your head isn't even a beginning of an approach towards an estimation of what I'm trying to express. With that said...here's what I wrote:
I want to tell you all a story about someone very important to me. Not because I have an illusion that any of you particularly care about me, but because I want to share with people an experience that I think is quite rare. I always learn something new when I write about a subject, whether a person, a process, or a relationship. Maybe you can learn something, too. If not, then at least you'll get a better idea of who I really am, if one is able to get past the all cussing and middle fingers.
I'm not a "lovey" type of person with many people. I like a number of people, some quite a bit. However, in the last few years, I've really come to understand the chasm of difference between liking someone a whoooooooole lot and love. What's really very odd, though, is that I can almost always tell whether I'm going to dislike, like, or on extremely, extremely rare occasions, love a person within about a minute of meeting them. This sense isn't perfect, but it's daaaaaaamn close. I can remember the only time when I thought I would dislike someone and then eventually became good friends with them, and that was with Eric, to whom you've been previously introduced. More often it goes the other way, but that's ok by me. The ability to love part of it has never failed, though |
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