Relapse

This is why I lack the sense of responsibility. Hello, it is 3:26 AM, Monday the 22nd of March.

I have not written or updated about my life for far too long. Don't misunderstand, it has been on my agenda for the past 2 weeks. I even wrote down little notes about things I need to remember to mention in the next blog. But my mind just tends to slip off. Either that, or my head just says to myself to "take a personal day".

It must've been, what, two weeks now? Since I have last updated, things of ill and gray happened and I haven't been able to pull myself together. And since this IS a blog, I get to rant about all the cooped up stuff that people really gives a rats bum about.

About a few days ago, one of my friends were robbed of his phone on a New York City subway train at approximately 10 pm. He ended up in a hospital because he was trying to resist and got a blow to the face. From the information given, he was then being assaulted by a group.

When I hear the news from a friend of mine about two nights ago, I was shocked. Well, obviously. This, along with all the other things that makes me think, made me realize about the state of New York City. Has security gone really that bad? Getting mugged on a running subway train and being beat by a group of hooligans in a decent early hour? Mind you, this was a Friday night. What I really didn't understand was the fact that there was NOBODY on the cart to stop this. I mean, there could be an empty cart that my friend just unfortunately hopped on. But of all the rotten luck to be robbed and hospitalized on the night of his girlfriend's birthday.

New York City never amazes me to show the true nature of it's rotten core. There really is no slight of glimmering hope, shining through the cracks of it's concrete streets. There aren't many kind souls that would happen to show a helping hand or greet with a kind compliment. New York City itself is sinking. It is sinking for the sadness and griefs of it's hidden citizens. Its exterior glamour of the rich and famous pavement attracts hundreds and thousands to see its glory. But the truth is, the city is not what it used to be.

Another event happened again in the subway train. I was on the way to school, sitting on an empty seat. Suddenly, I realized this one guy was writing a note on a small little index card.

Below is an excerpt from the note I wrote:

"So I was sitting next to this guy on the train while I was on my way to class. I noticed that he was writing a speech of some sort (even though I shouldn't have peeked) and this one line REALLY caught my attention. It said:

(Asians)

'So I noticed that alot of Asian representatives are here tonight. (pause) I couldn't tell whether or not I was in a roast or the dry cleaners.'"

Urgh, typing that quote he wrote made me feel disgusted inside. And yes, he actually wrote "alot". Man, this guy is an idiot.

Does he actually think that a cheesy line like that would be a great ice breaker for whatever the hell he was going to do? It's not as if I am offended or anything. I mean, I'm just shocked at his sorry attempt to squeeze a few laughs. Unless whatever he was attending was the book club for the "How to be a Jackass for Dummies" series, I think that his quacker joke would be the main attraction. If he would've directly try to insult Asians, that would be commendable. But this is just... Tasteless.

I have more sobbing stories of this fair city. But I'll leave the epilogue for some other time, I reckon.

And this week goes to:

Phoenix

In-Formation

After a couple of mind-boggling minutes later, I have resumed. Hello and good morning, blog. It is Friday, March the Fifth, 2010.

So a couple of things that has been puzzling me these past few days. I figured that I should really remember to jot them down before I start to wander off and forget. Again.

One of which that bedazzled me is the wandering of the difference between "Good" and "Nice".

I've been thinking with my noggin and looked through my psychological dictionary and stumbled across something that I've never in my life thought about. The differences of "Good" and "Nice". Surely, we've been though culturally and ethically about vices and virtues. Good and Bad. But I'm pretty sure nobody have yet to think about the importance of "Good" and "Nice".

In my dictation:

Good is a description of a being/thing that is right and just. Whereas Nice is a feeling; a feeling or emotion of something of which makes us feel satisfied.

I have a feeling that a LOT of people mixes the definition of the two together. To many others, feeling good is feeling nice, and vice-versa. Personally, I think it is the way of which peers cram the teachings or Good/Evil, Naughty/Nice onto the person. It's easy to get mixed up, but it's important not to.

Because moral comes into play as well. But let's not open up more worms.

Another thought that popped into my head. It just happened out of thin air today while I was about to snore in my class.

It is the way of how matters complicate as people grow older.

The innocence of a child is so precious. And yet, the society of our world today is so corrupt that it steals the innocence away in an instant. It is truly such a pity that this is a reality. But sadly enough, it is.

That being said, I think that is because it is so much harder to trust, make companions, and true friends as you grow older. It's just too difficult to go in front of somebody blatantly and ask them "will you be my friend". Whereas when you were a child, a simple tea party mate could be your companion or best friend for the rest of your life.

It's a pity as well. Especially for the men of our era. Maybe chivalry is dead, but the men I've seen has be so dumbfound by looking at women as an object of pleasure, as a prey to be devoured. Where friendship is something that can only be shared between the men.

Maybe it is just New York City.

As time goes on.

Experiences = Paranoia.

Toodles

P.S. I should really start putting spotlights of artists, varying from music or art, that I appreciate and love.

And this week, the honor goes to:

Karen O