Welcome To My Hell

So today after I picked up my contact lenses I swung by West Jordan High on a side project. I figured since I was at the school. I’d say hello to some of my old teachers.

I found my band teacher Mrs. Leyva. Busy as always. I don’t know how she does it sometimes. But as always she didn’t miss a beat between a talk with an old student showing up after a few years and getting back to her Marching Band.

I also had to find my psychology teacher Mrs. White. It was most of the reason I bothered to poke around the school at all. It only seemed fitting considering that it was her class that put me on track to where I am today. Now, I’m not exactly a successful millionare on the East side. But I’m doing very well for someone my age. More over, Heather was also minutes away from getting her bachelors degree in Psychology. So I had to inform Mrs. White as such.

When I informed Mrs. White of Heather’s pending graduation she asked if it’s really been that long. I didn’t think it was that long right at first, but now sitting here…Thinking about the fact that Mrs. White now has two kids and looking at the size of the desks in the class. It makes me kinda of nostalgic. It’s true what they say about time speeding up as you get older. My whole life from birth to age 18 took exactly 18 years. But the time between 18 and 22….Seems to have taken mere months.

I once had an discussion with Heather about immortality. I didn’t like the idea of living forever. I think now I’ve changed my mind. There really is so much to see and do. — Too many experiences that I will no doubt never have.

Don’t watch. Just listen.

Wise Beard Man’s interview with former Scientology member Jason Beghe.

His words are wise. His face is beard.

I took it home every day and practiced.
I memorized all the music in hopes that exerting more effort could some how make up for a lack of skill.
I’ve had nightmares and I’ve lost two nights of sleep over tomorrow’s performance.

Tomorrow I’ll be switching instruments.

I’ve played Oboe for many years, but I am being defaulted and nudged into playing the Flute.

Though the musical theory behind the two is the same, playing them is not.

So in my defense, if tomorrow’s “concert” in a bust, God damn it, I told you so.

Forgive my absence. I’ve been very busy every night with an upcoming class at work that I am having my doubts about *cough*.

But off that subject. I’m here for a distraction. Not a reminder. This will no doubt be one of those filler posts that I use to remind everyone that I am in fact still here. So if you have: school, work, schoolwork, or — Er, workwork. Do that.

If you are here out of soul-crushing, mind-numbing, ego-raping boredom that is likely to shorten your lifespan by 10 years, (or you’re here by accident) then read on.

I wanted to share an interesting thing I noticed recently when I was taking an elevator up to the higher levels of a Union Park building.

On the way up and down this particular elevator the other day I found it quite illuminating to watch people compulsively press the “Close-Door” button really quickly when the door was open as if it was going to make it close any sooner.

You know about this button right? Did you also know that the Close-Door button has absolutely no function at all save that of giving you the illusion of control? It’s a simple decoration. And nothing more.

Elevator music is the perfect example of this. Soothing music instated for only one reason. To distract you from the fact that you are on an enclosed, personal-space-violating, claustrophobia-exacerbating, mechanical lift that is rocketing upwards at speeds faster then you would drive your car in a parking lot. With psychological waiting times of whole seconds!

So there I was. Watching. Quietly and and disgustingly judging this women when the door eventually closed — reinforcing her belief in the button’s power.

I found it to be akin to a faith based religion.

Now I too, am automatically bound to many schedules that I have been conditioned to. Not putting my hand on a hot stove, not jumping off a cliff, etc… But a button in an elevator?! C’mon people! Does no one think for themselves? Does anyone have the knowledge and drive to not be a zombie enslaved by their own lack of self awareness?

Do this. Next time you’re on an elevator. (Preferably when there are at least 3 others on it.) Stand in the middle, and face the back. How does it make you feel? How does it make the others feel? It is then you will know what it feels like to go against such a deep seeded procedure as ‘elevator etiquette’.

You know. My buddy Vann told me that he Saw movies were great. And uh, yeah they were. But I would like to dispense a piece of advice. If you haven’t seen any of them. Don’t watch all four in a straight run in the dark.

By the time I stood up I was in the most surreal state of mind.

…needs to be locked.