Swept away

I was taking a nap today and I dreamt:

From what I can remember I was at home with my family, and it was raining -- I guess it was storming. The water was coming down heavy and I remember thinking, "Maybe we should check the weather channel." Then all of a sudden there is a huge crack. I know right away that it's a tornado. It tears our house apart and I remember the weight on my chest of a wall hitting me and weighing me down and I'm screaming and I pass out and wake up and our house is in shambles and I look to find my family and I find Kiana and I grab her and hug her and cry and tell her that I love her so so so much.

I can't remember exactly what happened in the rest of the dream. I know I talked to Alex and she had no idea that anybody's house got hit and I was trying to explain what happened to us, but she didn't understand what I was saying. After that I know we were trying to get help and find somewhere to go, but we were so lost. The details get fuzzy after that.

2nd to last day of work

You don't really have to read this

I hate pride and obstinance. But mostly in myself.

I really make no sense at night. My mind's tired when I climb into bed with my laptop. But my thoughts become more visible, more obtrusive without the distractions of the daytime to pull me into the humdum atmosphere that is the everyday.

Moving into the body paragraph -- I am now officially hooked on Fountainhead. Initially I thought it was a pompous book meant for pompous people to feel intellectual, and maybe it still is and maybe I'm just buying into it (and it's funny because the book itself talks about this superficiality of man). It's like a metanarrative. Maybe not. Either way, It's got me thinking about morals -- you know, the right and the wrong, the good and the bad, the virtues and the vices. While the dichotomy of mankind into let's say, good and evil can be considered a fairly objective, straightcut, black and white subject, I began to wonder whether we can be so sure. I tried simply to come up with the most virtuous person I could think of and wondered what characteristics this person has: alright -- honesty, integrity, compassion, etc. Alright and likewise for the most detestable person -- dishonesty, malice, contempt, etc. But when I think of real people, it's never that easy. When I think of myself, it isn't that easy either. What brought about these mostly was because I wanted to become (yes, cliche) the best person that I could possibly be, which stems from ideas not expressed directly in the book, however are subjects that are inherent to the questions the book raises. For the most part, I think of myself as a good person. I'm nice and polite to mostly everyone. I don't deliberately discriminate or judge people that I am conscious of (C'mon, we are all guilty of some prejudice however slight or unnoticeable as it may be). However, I feel that most of the time, the reasons I act a certain way are not based on the principles of honesty or integrity or compassion, but rather for more superficial reasons like avoiding confrontation or making social interaction easier. So should I consider the aforementioned principles as the basis for my actions? Is that really the way to be morally upright? I was going to argue against the existence of morals, but that would sound rather nihilistic of me, and I've also gotten too tired since I started this to really consider that possibility. Rather I'll raise the question of whether morals are the only basis by which mankind can stand by or whether there is no guideline by which we can truly grade a person as being morally superior or more good than another. Or if you are religious, if the commandments or other religious code can be the only true indicator of a person's standing in this world.

Or you are more than welcome to just tell me to stop staying up posting blogs about things that don't really matter.

A desperate attempt to mature

I've been spending a good deal of time with my family lately. I suppose I should say even more than usual. What with it being my mother's birthday and my lola returning home after a month and my brother home for another weekend, my last couple of days have been family-filled to say the least. What I've noticed is that typically I find myself seeing that spending time with them as an obligation or as an act of generosity on my part that I am sacrificing my leisure time to spend with them. I can feel the angsty teenager brooding inside of me, resenting their company. However there's another part of me that is less frequently visible that is just so happy to have them there for me and that part of me wants to be there for them, too. Unfortunately I forget this side of me all too often, resulting in stinging words or silent detachment. Until I remember the people that are always there for me, who have always forgiven me, who have sacrificed so much for me, and the least I can do is be there. I just hate that side of me that wants to push them away.

Empathy

You know that feeling where you just want to cry and let it all out, but you just can't? Do other people have this inability to hone in on their emotions? Sometimes when I see or hear about something tragic, I feel so detached and indifferent and I wonder why can't I fully empathize with these people. I can rationalize in my head why it's so tragic and sad, but I don't feel it. I can think, "Well, that's just terrible." But I say it in the same way that I say, "Well, it looks like it might storm tonight." As if it's just a passing thought and not inhumanity passing through my lips.

Triumph

Minesweeper