The world is filled
with so many people
who are true to nothing
especially themselves.
the who-whats and
when-wheres that cruise
from crisis to crisis
pointless and all,
never stopping
to smell the fresh morning
roses or look into
the mirror and create
their thousand truths
their goods
their evils
and destroy them with
every night.
Yes, we march and
march and march
to someone else's
heartbeat
someone else's
drum.
These people resign from
life.
they retire, before ever
experiencing what life really
has to offer
for these people I
have no words,
for they have already given up
on themselves.
But for you,
young poet - young reader
or boxer, or lawyer
I can only give you
my blessings
for in your hands is the fate
of this filthy race
we call
humanity.
Live your life fully
and each day like your
last.
look away from
the preachers
of death,
child:
There's beauty in the struggle.
There is a woman
who sits across the pond
from me now
golden brown skin
and lustrous black hair
she's in her
mid twenties,
maybe
she looks like a marry or
a monica or a lisa
maybe
and she carries a black camera
with her wherever she goes
snapping pictures of her young glory
she sits atop a rock
and calls to her young warrior-
"antale chico!"
and I think
maybe she's more
of a maria, or gabriella!
either way she's beautiful
and so is her daughter of three.
or four, but certainly no more
and there's comfort in the fact
that she'll never read
much less,
know
that she made
my fucking
day.
It seems like today,
everybody wants all the
best shit
sports cars with the leather interior,
gormet lobsters served
(on top of) $70 Salisbury Steak
Private pre-schools and
even more exclusive colleges
the most expensive whiskey
foreign cigarettes
and homes that sit atop
hills of (black)gold
with a million
and one
bathrooms.
Those people are lost
and incapable of making decisions
not calculable in
dollar bills:
Fuck Them.
Little do they know
about life,
about living
about schwag on a sunday morning
or $4 champagne or Marlborough Red's
let them have their expensive ass cake
and eat it too
while you sit on your hill
that looks like all the others
appreciating the finer things
life has to offer.
I bought a nice journal
or stole it, or something.
and not a single beautiful poem,
or thought, or dream
came out
there was just too much
pressure to be perfect
it weighed down my writing hand
but only now do I know:
that I have never been
happier with my 39 cent
spiral.
AND
that perhaps,
we define the
finer things in life
for ourselves.
Fuck the Big Other.
I absolutely love the idea of using poetry
as an outlet. like I've always said-
"it's good to get all the crazy out of your system"
without further ado,
"a frustrated tirade"
God damn I feel so fucking worthless
worthless worthless
my stomach hurts and so does my
heart
it's all broken, fried, mishandeled, and
black
like that bitter whore on the corner
fuck
these moments of sheer lack
of creativity
of escape
of death
of every part of me that makes me,
me
make me want to die die die
I do not know who I am
I do not know who you are
or who any of these people are
for that matter
we're all just faceless, nameless
fucks
fighting with each other
for a little piece of
american pie.
shit, fuck the gold, fuck the glory
and fuck god for that matter,
I just need a stranger
a friend
a lover and
a poet
to stand here with me
and watch this city burn
like the fire that rages
inside me.
7:00 Sharp
and not a moment later
is when the morning starts
when that alarm goes off ringin'
and the sounds of Mufasa,
our departed king
permeate the air.
of course,
that's also when
the war starts
between me,
and myself
the subconceous
and the real
it's fierce combat, really
-when the world wants you
to do something
you feel anxious,
surrounded; afraid
and under the pressure
of the whole fucking
world
like the nazis
in the final hours
of 1946.
sure, i manage
to hold on a little longer
fifteen, thirty sometimes
fourty-five
miniutes.
depending on how many times
I hit that
snooze button
but that doesn't stop
the morning air
from receiving my presence.
I wake up,
eventually
and stare upon this fucking
world I feel,
I can never love
my stomach - restless
from last nights
cigarette and coffee
binge
then I wonder,
as I take my first sip
of morning joe
and my first sip of
death:
"why did I even
bother waking up
on this god fucksaken
mundane morning?"
but there is never an answer
I guess every morning
is a mundane morning
without a god in the sky
or an angels face to
wake up to.
maybe she could
show me
meaning.
So, i've taken a small break from the poetry; debate's been eating my time like a fat kid at Cici's... on the way home from atlanta, I managed to write ... something. I'm not sure whether it's poetry, prose, a reflective essay or a story, but shit i've never been big on labels.
without furthe ado:
I have grown terribly dissatisfied with my life, I am not who I used to be – anymore. No, something has happened to me – I feel lost, trapped and ever so fucking alone and I just want everything and everyone to be still still still. I know, I know, I have so much to live for, such a rich fulfilling life ahead of me – the only problem is – I see the future, I see my destiny – as I peer into the crystal ball of modernity, I am disheartened by the direction my boat is drifting.
Highschool, College, a Masters degree then work, work, work – until I’m a useless old fart and can’t tell the difference between living and existing. That’s what this world wants for us all, an anesthetized life – free from pain and strife: we all dream of that same place – whether you call it Oklahoma or your lover’s arms, we’re all looking for a place where everything is predictable and nothing hurts. We sail and cruise and drive through existence looking for a who, a why, a god and a how, but never do we find the answers to our petty questions, we sail and drive and cruise to someone else’s rhythm, in a direction I’m ashamed to call “progress.”
False are the idols of modernity, false are the amenities of a comfortable middle-class existence. We bust our balls to maintain the petty comforts of our lives without realizing that it is ourselves that we are slowly murdering. The house, the cars, the money, the girls – shit I’d trade it all for a taste of the real – a taste of every beautiful flavor life has to offer. But there is some repentance in it all, for I’m afraid although I see beyond the shimmering idols of modernity, I am a weak man. As much as I want escape, as much as I want to live, my weakness leaves me trapped like a butterfly caught in the tarantulas den, or an autumn leaf lost in winter winds – out of place, out of control, and increasingly – out of my fucking mind.
I don’t know what it is about me, or what’s been going on lately – everyone and everything in my life is confusing the fuck out of me, I am coming to what feels like a stand-still in my quest for meaning and I’m afraid I’m falling falling falling into darkness, into nothingness. I’m lonely, confused, and thirsty for the first drop of love, of life, of whatever is to come, but if there’s one thing I do know it is this: I have grown too full for this small cup of existence, I can no longer call this place home and for quite some time I have not been able to recognize these familiar faces - I need change that doesn’t jingle in my pockets.
I am looking for a friend, but surely in all the wrong places – I cannot find it here. This place is cold and all of the color is gone - the land is black and the clouds overhead are gray with the tears of god. But I cope, I live, I fight the good fight; Hoping that somewhere, there is someone in the world as lost confused and meaningless as myself.
This is for you,
my dear friend with
two crutches
or four, or a million
for that matter
"at least, at least"
they say,
"this is all that happened!
you could be in a coma
or a vegetable
or dead
or a million pieces!"
(right now)
you hear their comfortable lies
but there's a hint of truth to it
this is all that happened
they do not see, simply can't see
all that you've lost
your independence
your freedom
your sweet ride
that you drove senselessly
into the night
searching for a who, a why,
a god,
and a friend
who was just as lost in lifes torrent
as you were
(or are,
I really don't know the answer.)
Fuck,
that never stopped you though
you didn't want that answer in the first place!
the mistry and misery of life was enough
to satisfy your thirst
for life,
for existential experience.
through the highs and lows,
you wanted it all
"to smoke weed on the goldengate bridge"
"to drive on the wrong side of the road"
your plan, to live life on the edge
"so it goes" you'd say,
laughing in the face of destruction
as you watched the city burn,
you lit a cigarette,
or two.
Captivated by your disasterous charm,
infamous smile, and your
rough palms and plush lips
tainted with smoke
and a love lost.
"you wanted it all,"
I thought
"through the highs, and the
lows."
Unfortunately,
we can't always get what we want
Fate has a poor sense of humor,
but that's how it chose to play it's hand
there's no deed that we may seperate from the doer
no subject from its predicate,
no predicate from it's clause,
no subject from infinite possibilities.
The irony of the matter is,
that you weren't the person
driving on the wrong side of the road
you were just another old joe,
or jane,
or natalie,
for that matter
not knowing what destiny had written
on those gritty warn palms
of yours.
But in your moment of truth
there was not a whisper
much less, laughter
as the truck smashed into your
sweet ride
there was onlyt eh sound of crushing bones
and twisted metal
as the stench of carnage permuted the air
the stench of death, also lingered
thank god, thank heavens
(or the spaghetti monster,
for that matter)
that that wasn't your stench,
your last night,
your final cruise through existence.
your fire burnt strong,
as they lifted your worn body into the ambulance
and ripped off your clothes
on that dark,
December night.
Sadly that is,
that is,
how fate played it's hand
you wanted it all
and your prayers were answered
there's nothing you could have odne differently
nothing that could stop
destiny from taking it's course,
no deed that could be seperated from the doer
no subject from it's predicate.
it was done
now,
now there's simply not time
for "what ifs" and "if onlys"
only you, and your crutches
and a will to fight
that I hope you haven't lost
that spark, that twinkle
in your amber brown eyes
that kept me up to all hours of the night.
I do not understand
I don't
what it means to be you
your crutches, I will never hold
but I do know what it is to have crutches
hopes, dreams and thoughts,
substances.
that we rely on,
and hold closer
than life itself
because it's that
damn
precious.
Sure, it's not fair
"why you, why me
why any of us for that matter?"
because that is how this moment was structured.
there is no subject that can be seperated from it's predicate
no deed from it's doer
no predicate from it's clause.
only you, me,
and millions of other nobodies
clinging to their crutches
fighting for just
one more
breadth.
I don't make very many promises
but I'm a man of my word
If you never know again
how to jump, bike and play
that there will be room
on my picnic blanket
in some park
at the corner of nowhere and nothingness
that we can watch children do
what children do best
and leave the rest to fate.
On winter days,
even at the heart of the gulf of Texas;
Sugar Land, Texas
to be exact
my mother always told me to
stay inside
where it was warm and safe
where the bitter cold,
or the murderers or the rapists
or life
couldn't hurt me.
but I knew better
than to listen to her words,
of caution, of reproach
rather,
she had taught me better.
I am an honest man,
or at least I'd like to think so
I am not ashamed of giving credit
where it is due.
But who wouldn't?
(like to think they were honest men, that is)
the murderers? the rapists?
surely they had mothers too
who had nurtured them
taught them the virtues of an honest man
surely, they were honest men too
at least
some of
the time
this was this,
and that was that
until one day
I met a man with a burley black mustache
the most honest of men, perhaps
who showed me what a lie I was living!
he knew nothing of this "honesty"
i spoke of
but seemingly knew all there was to know about men;
and women I suppose -
this man, and his black burley mustache
showed me this was that
and this, was
nothing at all.
there are some that take pleasure in being
what they think, is an "honest man"
spending their entire lives
inside
next to their mothers,
where the cold or the rapists
or the murderers
or life
can't hurt them.
and they are honest men, too.
for what do they know?
(that with every day, every step
every breath of their comfortable
petty lives, they are lying)
To themselves.
And this profound conclusion
was made possible by that man
with the burley black mustache
whom I met on the philosophy shelf
at a bookstore no one has ever heard of
at the corner of nowhere
and nothingness.
It took a man of real honesty
to show me
that my only mother was fate
and it was my destiny to remain
forever by her side -
no matter where I went,
what I did
and what women I slept with.
Now I see
my mother taught me
how to be an honest man
Sure, I steal sometimes
and lie even more often
and swear wilder than the
rowdiest of cowboys-turned sailors
I am an honest man,
(to myself, at least)
Some men, who claim to be honest.
Also claim we need more compassion
more love, more humanity
more Jesus
and less aboritions
but in my honest opinion,
all this world really needs
is a few more honest men
with
burley
black
mustaches
Greetings,
Okay, so lets take a step in the opposite direction of my recent posts, no philosophy this time guys... not even in rounds, atleast not at UIL anyways.
So lets talk about Eisenhower first, since we do tend to progress chronologically.
Singh/Mistry went 3-0 in prelims
We "downed" to dules' number 6 team in Ocs. (apparently 'F' sounds bad)
-We did better than we expected to do considering that Raj had gotten braces the day before, but its kind of a bummer to know that you could be double qualled as of now (not to mention that Raj would have qualled at his first CX and LD tournaments :D )
--Congradulations on the quall though Michelle / Andi see you at state!
-FX was a bummer, I got 3rd in semis *tear*
---ofcourse this just added to our "3rd" place ballot pile xD
SOMEHOW *wink wink mr. J* Hightower pulled 1st place sweeps out of nowhere.
***Results***
Ha Nguyen - 1st place impromptu, 4th DX, 1st LD
Asif Ansari- 5th DX, CX quarterfinalist
Singh/Mistry- CX Octafinalist
Span - FX finalist
A lot of you guys broke, tagged... but not speifically mentioned - if you want it then just ask.
***************************************************************************
UIL DISTRICTS
***************************************************************************
Considering we weren't originally on the UIL team, we did pretty damn good.
We went 3-0 day one, and beat Dulles 'b' in qrtrs only to concede to Asif/Nick so that they could go to state. Honestly, I don't know what happened in that round vs. dulles 'A' - I get the feeling that if i had taken it more seriously, we had a shot. And at this point, I just feel terrible farrukh.
I'm incredibly sorry for letting you down man.
Here are the results.
Asift Ansari - Top speaker
Ansari/Brown - 2nd place CX! **GOING TO STATE!**
Milan Raj - 3rd speaker
Raj/Hemani - 1st place CX! **GOING TO STATE!**
Singh/Virani - 4th place CX! - Second Alternate.
Good job guys, Hightower takes 1st place overall after 7 fucking years =D
**Notes**
1.) Kevin bites thighs
2.) I can never look at the travis coach the same way again
3.) Raj can't talk.
4.) Asif owes me dinner
5.) Raj better be a damn good partner next year.
theres probibly more, but i'm fucking tired.
Goodnight
-Shikhar.
So breaks been pretty good, and 2006 is coming to an end... despite all that i've done this year (the good and the bad) I'm thankful to all of you for making it memorable. Lets take a few miniutes to address a few things (what some refer to as "inconsistencies").
+: The whole Nihilist spew ... :+
-made a big decision recently - I'm not a nihilist (atleast not yet) - but thats not to say that i will or am destined to be one. I really enjoy reading nietzsche, not because he's a pessimist and i'm some sort of bastard that enjoys pain, but because his philosophy makes sense to me. It clicks. (although i do ponder the occasional "wtf" while reading Human, all too human.) Infact I read a really interesting passage today that entailed that we can only become "free spirits" if we can "climb the rungs of the moral ladder" to see metaphysics for what it is. And only with contempt can we rise to break down the paradigm of society. (values, religion etc...) but we'll save that for a later post (i'm sure i have no idea what i'm talking about)
+: Debate :+
-Things are going to stay the same, I'm not going to quit (not now at least). Although i must say i'm not very content with the choice of tournaments we're going too. A medium of communication is better than none. (++ assuming J doesn't go COMPLETELY nuts - I've still got state).
+: Friends :+
-As much as I tell you how much I hate you, I love you guys. Thanks for all the comments on the facebook blog and helping me see =) (much appreciated) I hope that 2007 will bring just as many awesome friends and just as awesome memories. =) =)
How about we embarrace a few of you fuckers? =P (No spec. order)
Steph (eatus-nothingus) - You're a total bad-ass. Thanks for listening to me when I'm sad, for abandoning your friends for me @ lunch =P, and overall being a great friend. We're going to have a blast @ Debate camp this summer, wont we?
Chacko (cuttus-wristus) - Alright you Emo bastard, i decided to appease you by putting you in here (just so you wont cut yourself over ME anymore) Looking forward to another whole semester of Algebra II with your ass. Remember the good times, at bay city GImprov for ever =) =) =)
Mack (fattus-maximus) - oh man, where do i even start? Thanks for beating me up every morn... oh wait. Thanks for pushing me arou... oh wait. OH!! I know, thanks for 6th in group impro... oh wait (That was chacko's fault). But what I really want to thank you for... is your warmups =) =) (i really do enjoy fucking over black people..)
Raj (First name ass, last name hole) - yeah, i said it. No really, you're an awesome guy (when you want to be). We've got man-love. Thanks for listening to my problems and going on a diet with me. I'll make sure we make YOUR "christmas wish" come true.
Rishab (original_scammer) - Yeah we've done stupid shit together... so what? lol - thanks for covering my ass when mondo wouldn't stfu. You're awesome.
Ha (dorkus maximus)- You're an angel, yes you are. Thank you for being there at like 1 in the morning when I needed someone to talk to. Youuu are amazing ha, and its hard to believe that you will be gone next year... almost.. sad =(.
Asif (terrorist.) - Asif, you're a badass. I won't forget your beard, oh! and ofcourse all of the CX you tought me fish year. thank youu. You took a lot of time out of your junior year to teach us, and I hope one day to prove to you that your efforts weren't in vain. --You're great asif.
Lara (m-azing) - You've taught me so much, I cant even begin to tell you. Thank you Lara, you taught me debate, life, philosophy and to believe in the power of language. (and much more ;-)) Thank you for being there for me when i need to talk... I'm going to miss you so much =(
Ofcourse these are only the people that first popped into my head... if you want a spew of your own, aim/call/comment.
+: Love, Like, Significance? :+
-So a few of you may know, I really like someone. Maybe Christmas was a bust guys, but I think in a sense talking to her is my "divine" gift (if i'm even allowed to use that word). The only thing thats been killing me lately is the distance situation. For all of you who have ever had a significant other that lived more than 45 minutes away: I sympathize, because its balls when you're sad. Regardless, I think this last month of 06 has been pretty good -- Thank you =)
When you love someone, I mean really love someone, there come with this love a few responsibilities. Theres the responsibility of welfare, to make sure you're significant other is ok at the end of the day, the responsibility of comfort (which of course lies in being able to be as comfortable as a panda around him/her) and finally, the responsibility of externalization(this probibly should have been first, but its more dramatic to put the one you're having problems with at the end).
Regardless of how much you tell them you love them, seeing the inevitably limited nature of language, we find that words are unable to transcend your feelings. But what does one do when words are the only thing you have... I suppose describing your feelings is sufficient? This i can do.
You're the reason I woke up. I run home because I want to talk to you, but when we talk on the way home... I dread seeing my driveway. I spell your name with skittles. I manage to bore my friends talking about you, but Its exhilarating to me. I look at my phone, just for the screen saver (thats you!). I dream about you. I eagerly wait for your replies. I look at my phone in the middle of the night, just to see if you called. You make me feel valued. You make me feel significant. I day dream about you. I miss you. I can't get you out of my mind, and I don't even want to try anymore. Your happyness is a personal struggle. (for me).
Theres so much more, but i'll add later guys. Sometimes you just don't feel like writing through tears.
-Shikhar
"God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves? That which was the holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet possessed has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood off us? With what water could we purify ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we need to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we not ourselves become gods simply to be worthy of it?"
— Nietzsche, The Gay Science
You know what world? I've been thinking and Nietzsche couldn't have been more correct when he said "god is dead". However, I do not agree to the fact that we have killed god. God has killed us. He has killed the inspiration of a 15 year old child, he has killed the hope in the hearts of millions he has killed so many around the world. "come to the light, come to my arms" he says. Thats bullshit, thats just a fucking excuse to take our loved ones and cause excessive pain. I stand here, living a life that I can't say i'm to fond of, because every time anything good ever happens to me, its taken away. The world is a melancholy place, crowded with the dark discomfort of knowing whatever you have today may be gone tomorrow. Sometimes this is why I cry... but other times its beucase of all the things that i'll never get to experience, all the things I wont ever have.
I won't ever have the opertunity to debate at the TOC; not to say that I would ever qualify for it concidering that i'm a terrible debater, "hightower F" as some proclaim. Why? because my fucking school is too busy buying football equipment, spending so much money on basketball shoes and equipment that it refuses to support anything remotely intellectualy stimulating. I've embraced you're thinking Lara, this intellectual discussion we want to have after a debate round won't ever happen. Ever. Not as long as the best tournament we go to all year is Katy Taylor and a fucking game is more important than something thats remotly academically stimulating.
Moreover, today has opened my eyes to Nihilism. Maybe every action we take realy is setting us up for a bigger fall? I for one am tired of this temporary pleasures, temporary happyness, temporary peace. I'm tired of working and working for things only to have them snached from me. I'm tired of loving so much, only to be slapped by reality. I'm tired of having everything I love taken away from me... so maybe I shouldn't persue it in the first place? Wouldn't that be smart? Then again, I'm incapable of rationality. Catch a fucking hint, our actions mean nothing.
I'm out. maybe i'll add more later..
oh, and thanks again world.
-Shikhar
3rd time...
Ive tried writing something about this 3 times now, and found that mrs. wilson couldn't have been more correct when she told us our writing is terribly disorganized.
Aparently, we're supposed to develop a purpose for writing, and since there's no actual prompt or question today, i take it as incumbant upon myeslf to establish why i'm writing this post. To complain; you're welcome to call me a nagging bitch; thats you're perrogative.
God is an entity with a bad sense of humor,
Thus far, i've established myself to be quite religiously apathetic. Although I aknowlege an existance in a higher power, i'm not quite sure what to think of it yet. Today i've stepped closer to understanding though for i've stumbled upon the conclusion that god has a terrible sense of humor. I've found that i'm destined to a life of solitude. Now this may not include emotional solitude, for thanks to a special someone, my need for being liked/loved is quite satisfied. *thank you*. But physicaly, I'm destined to solitude. Why you ask? becuase god sees to it it that everyone that reciprocates any form love, or rather, feelings beyond friendship reamains physically intangible. Har d fucking har har... I don't think its funny for everything that I want at this moment right now, i'll never have. This is the sad truth. Realities a bitch.
As for school, fuck it.
I'm tired of fucking stress..
Maybe we'll talk later blog,
Goodluck && Goodnight.
-Shikhar
So today, I realise that I am utterly useless.
Ever have one of those days? when you sit down to do something and find that you simply can't. Nomatter how hard you try, your efforts will allways be useless. Today was one of those days. I do not wish to go into details, but I will say this.
I'm tired of me.
I'm tired of the stupid shit I do
I'm tired of not being able to understand.
I'm tired of everyone expecting so much out of me
because guys, i'm not special.
I'm not what you want me to be mom, dad.
I'm not what you think I am.
You people look at me daily, and fill me with this bullshit
stop. for the love of god, stop.
In other news, I havn't written here in a while and I allmost feel guilty for that. The truth is, I've missed you blog. I'm going to try to update this as much as possible again. Also, i'm going to try to stop watching as much T.V. and read more.. I feel myself getting stupider by the day. And although I may not be "smart" I wish to preserve whatever I have now. I'm going to go read some foucault. I'll write about it soon.
I'm sorry.
-Shikhar.
You say it is you whos job it is to nurture me, to help me grow, but how can I grow without space? You, you want me to grow to be someone intelligent, someone strong, someone whos hands rest on the levies of power. I recognise this, But how is it that I'm expected to grow when your shaddow, are pinning me to the earth witch you have cherrished. How, how can you expect me to grow when the spit of your tongue is the same spit which is drowning me, in a pool stained with the dried blood of your past.
You say you want whats best for me, that in order for me to grow I must adhere to your standards for personal betterment, but fail recognise the growth which has occurred so blatantly in front of your eyes in the past 15 years. Why? Because you don't know me. You have ignored me, and seperated me from who I am when I speak to you through fear. I am afriad of you, because I cannot talk to you without angering you. I will not say you have given up on me, for that is simply untrue - but, you have, you have created a wall so thick with fear, it has become embedded in this "relationship" I have with you. So thick, that in attempting to take a single bloody brick out of this wall, I will have destroyed us.
I am fluid, and each drop of education that I add in this life makes me larger, makes me grow. I have become too large for your container, and it is begining to overflow. I can now see your values, your actions from the outside, and though I am not attempting to disrespect or devalue you, that is exactly waht you have done to me. Age may add to the shape of ones values, but I am not your reflection.
Now, here I am writing about you, pouring my heart into a container, a table on a website for the world to see... but you will never stumble upon this, because you are out somewhere driving, away from me with the idea that I simply don't care, but you are mistaken in this assertian. For if I simply didn't care I wouldn't spend this waking life thinking, writing, about my experiences. Thinking, writing, about you.
Although I may never try again to remove that brick - understand that I will not appologize for doing so. Don't expect that I will.
V A L U E S are something you must R E S P E C T
-Shikhar
So we meet again blog...
This time, just me and you (and reader ofcourse) =) - Do you know why i love you blog?
because you help me keep track of my emotions, you are the one who allows me to unclutter my thoughts... well sorta.
Let us start todays post with an explanation of the contents of this one, and an implication as to the origin of the first post. This weekend was Katy- Taylor TFA The first post-camp tournament I have ever gone to. Results were overall quite sucessful, for the first tournament guys, we pwned.
For all of those who are curious- Concider the following
Results
LD
Ha Nguyen - 3rd place
Congress
Nick BROWN (hehe) - Top 12 Congress
Extemp
Ha Nguyen - 2nd place
Shamez Hemani - Finalist
CCX
Hemani/Raj - 2nd Place
Pena/Nanjee - 3rd Place
Singh/Virani - 3rd Place (WEWT!!!)
Impomp Tu
Ha Nguyen - 1st place.
Overall
3rd place Sweepstakes (w/ 9 People!)
As you can see this tournament was quite successful for HHS, and specificaly me. If there is one thing i've learned from it is that I need confidence in my arguments, from the begining.
Doubt one cares, but read on for a collection of pointless events
*Yawn* The learnings of this contest SHALL be updated in the future, preferably tomorrow night, but we shall see.
**Updates**
YES! this is what you avid readers have been looking forward to. I have singlehandedly detracted from the coutdown to the elections in 2008, as readers from all around the world tune in to listen to ME and MY story.
So - this whole semi-finals buesness. I'm not so sure how i made it this far, but it happened guys, i'm not full of myself, I'm happy sure- I think i'm amazed actualy. Well elkins is in 2 days, we'll see how we do there.
Chacko
While it may not be that awesome, hope some of you get something out of reading this post
Lessons and Anticdotes
in response to my debate record... honestly kids, i didn't expect to get as far as i did, after day one i was practically in tears I'm not so sure how i made it this far, but it happened guys, i'm not full of myself, I'm happy sure- I think i'm amazed actualy. Well elkins is in 2 days, we'll see how we do there.
Chacko can't cary a tub... or can he? thats right kids, chacko cleaned up the extemp room and caried the tub back ALL BY HIMSELF! - dosn't mack have an amazing CX partner?
MY FLOWS! - This ones, for you babe - we'ze still friends - just stay the FUCK away from my flows! *GASP*
North Korea Peace Corps = IMPERIALISM - quarters came down to this and solvancy, Lets just get this strait BHS - Peace Corps = = Imperalism as it is... Sending them to fucking north korea to SHOW them how to farm? thats effn' imperialism. Oops, did I just de-clasify the AMAZING bellaire affirmative? *laugh*
Trophy's are Sweet - So, as some of you may have heard, I got my first trophy ever at taylor hs. Yeah, as crazy as you kids are for thinking i'm good... i'm not - I didn't ever do that great in novice events - got a few ribbons last year for FX / PX - nothn' special.
Magic Sophomore - I <3 style="font-weight: bold;">Last but not least.... neg = fun.
I'm out.
Cry Shikhar Cry,
Cry for the Indigent Citizen; unable to understand the politics of the nation in witch he resides
Cry for all that was lost;
Cry for Education - for it weeps too, shedding tears of failure
Cry for all those whom will never understand
Cry more for all those whom think they understand
Shed countless tears for each one, but at the end...
Remember - You Mean Nothing.
What you say, What you do, How you act- Means Absolutely Nothing to Anyone Else.
Dear World, Insignificant i stand.
Ever wonder if society wants us to be ignorant? To constantly rot our minds with TV and whore ourselves out on myspace as if it were necessary for servival. It seems as if societies attitude has turned most of us the color of misty's eye shaddow... blue.
Think about it, when someone sees you reading a book, or otherwise conducting yourself in a progressive, educational fashon, the first response is allmost allways "What are you doing?". What fails to be aknowledged is that its not what you are doing its rather, a lack of what they are doing. Is it not? Sure its something, but its an act with no pourpose or otherwise gain. It realy hurts to be looked upon as a freak, or a "geek" or an "idiot" for doing something the average person wouldn't do, or dosn't do. So what we must do, is question what makes it out of the ordinary, extraordinary.
I. Reading
Why is reading viewed upon as such a chore, as a burden, as an exausting act. This is not to say that i'm not guilty, often I see reading as something i'm not mentaly prepared to do, but why is it that for so many, its just not an option. Why is it that summer reading has become a race to sparknotes, cliffnotes, pink monkey or whatever? Beucase people have become desensitized to reading, people have become, grown further and further away from reading. There is a median, a fog, a haze that disallows man to see why we read, or for that matter why any medium of conversation exists to this date. Conversation, and discourse have been preserved mainly becuase man needs communication, man needs to be able to express abstract thoughts in terms of tangible discourse witch, although will inevitabley lose some detail, through the effective use of comunication, we can decrease this loss. So can it be possible that reading is simply "out of style" that it is growing obsolete and the new age methods of communication are TV and speech? If so, exclude me out. I cant speak for all, but this is why I read: Reading is my way to understand others, others far away, others i've never met... without being trapped in a timeframe. Its my way of escaping from everything... yet solving it all. Its my way of learning outside of curriculum. That is why I read. For the knowledge of others.
II. Speech
Speech is often syphoned by the majority of society - using big words, or rather "Big" words in every day speech constitutes that you are better than someone, that you are perhaps more educated and are trying to showcase that.. trying establish your domination over others...but as someone who uses "big" words in every day speech my motives are quite the contrary. Language is a powrful tool to express yourself, to transcend your emotions past your mind and into anothers. I have found that good, or rather descriptive language is key to doing so. Also, its you that constitutes them as "big" words, why not out of the ordinary?
Whatever guys, call me what you want - Nerd / Dumbass / Smartass / Overachiever whatever you want. Just know that my actions aren't to please others- when I spend time on an essay, its not simply to get an A on it. Knowledge is important, Learning is important. I could care less if you disagree.
-Shikhar
"Deterioration of education take backseat to world domination thats why we hustle in the back street know when to pack heat just to eat no exaduration" - Rico Pabon