I am at work right now (there is a reason I don’t deserve a raise). I’m sitting at my desk, in the office that I have all to myself, with torture devices files to my left, tea in my hand, and my iPod in my ear. I can almost imagine my brother’s picture smiling with me when some heavy Shai Hulud comes on.

It occurs to me that any coworkers who happen to notice the iPod will likely assume I’m listening to some Paris Hilton girly pop songs. Those of you who know Shai Hulud will see how ridiculous this mental picture is. Those of you that don’t, well, picture this:

You work in a very small office (5 people total). You and the other three people have been there for years, but in February, you decided to hire someone to enter all the files into the database. This girl is quiet and shy. She generally only responds to conversation, never initiates. Today, she is wearing a fluffy skirt and her hair down. When you bid her a good morning, she turns and, with a sweet little smile, squeaks out the same to you. You happen to notice she’s listening to her iPod.

Now, think about Shai Hulud. If you don’t know them, think of heavy guitar, fast bass, and the singer screaming, “I’m prepared to fight humanity every day FOR THE REST OF MY LIIIIIIFE!”

I had Shai Hulud on during my morning commute, and was happily singing along to A Profound Hatred of Man. Cheerful, upbeat, childlike me was singing/screaming at the top of my lungs, “If these hands could only kill, I’d cleanse the world with IT’S OWN BLOOOOOD!” Good morning, Massachusetts.

I just think it’s a funny that people think I’m so boring innocent and naive. People, I am not.

There’s no doubt that the one recurring theme in today’s America is obesity speed. Everything has to be fast: fast cars, fast service, fast sex food. People are always in a rush, even when they have nowhere to be (I’ve admittely been guilty of such). We exceed the speed limit, tailgate, get angry when our waitress forgot something small and has to run back to the kitchen to get it, complain loudly when our meal takes more than ten minutes, and make those annoyed sighing sounds when someone takes too long to pay for their groceries and holds up the line all of four seconds. Look, lady, I don’t care if you’re seventy and have a broken leg but still have to take care of your ailing husband and your granddaughter’s year old love child — I GOT SHIT TO DO!

Okay, so I might be exaggerating. A little. Maybe…. or maybe not at all. Either way, food and driving and such are not the only things that are moving too fast for my tastes. There are also the big Rs.

RELATIONSHIPS.

Remember back in the sixties? Women used to wear those stupid poodle skirts and short-sleeved sweaters (who ever invented those ridiculous things?), and guys used to slick back their hair and dress nice.

Back then, people used to do this thing called dating. I know that may sound kind of foreign to some of you, but listen here: it exists! No, no, it’s not the same as “going out” — going out suggests an exclusive relationship. See, dating is just what it sounds like - going on dates! You go on dates, get to know each other, and then decide if you want to begin an actual relationship.

Yes, yes, I realize that sounds old fashioned and boring. But let me tell you — it’s a lot easier to stop seeing someone you’re not interested in if you’re just dating, as opposed to having to go through the break-up process. Easier and less emotionally messy.

All I’m saying is slow the hell down, people. There’s absolutely no reason to leap headfirst into a relationship with someone you hardly know just because you “kinda had fun together that one time.” I’m just saying it’s a little quick to go out once, then talk about moving in together and all the children you’ll have and where you’ll live and what the wedding will be like.

Puke sequence activated.

What ever happened to talking the time to get to know someone? To enjoy their company for a while before putting all the pressure of a relationship on the two of you? I happen to find that taking things slow makes me like a person so much more than if we jump right into it (in all honesty, if things move that fast, I often lose interest). A little mystery adds an element of excitement to everything! Not knowing when you’ll see each other next adds a bit of sweet longing for that next meeting!

Does anyone follow me? At all?

Eh, screw you guys. I like this whole dating deal; you all are just whores.

There are a million words or phrases you could use to complete that sentence: shit, being alive, death, art, makin’ babies, consciousness, yadda yadda. I wrote today that I think life is “just a series of let-downs combined with a perpetual hope that the future will bring something better.”

If you think about it, doesn’t that make sense? Especially for 20-somethings in lower middle class suburban New England like myself. Got a new job that it turns out you hate? No worries, you’ll get a better one eventually. Really like someone but find out it’s pretty unlikely you’ll ever have them? Oh, whatever, someone better will come along.

Is this existence? Is this really what it’s supposed to be? You just constantly strive for better things, better jobs, better boyfriends or girlfriends? Then what, you have kids and strive for better things and lives for them?

I’m not sure I see the point in any of it. What if there isn’t anything after this life? If there’s nothing to look forward to, why bother with anything at all?

What if there is something after this? Is it just a pointless circle that you go around and around forever and ever? Or is it like Buddhism’s Nirvana, which you only get into after you have perfected your soul throughout your many reincarnations?

If there’s an ultimate goal… what’s next? What comes after that?

I guess I’m having a mini-existential crisis. I’ve had a real one before, and let me tell you, that was not a good time. I’m pretty sure that’s why people commit suicide.

Have you ever seen the early evening, post-rain glow of a cloudy sky? The kind that only happens in the summer? That light makes me feel lonely and nostalgic, but it’s not really a bad feeling. I’m calm and relaxed, and I don’t mind being alone, but it makes me yearn for all the things and people I’ve lost. The people others have lost. What kind of life is this, where we just lose those we love and move on?

I can see my brother’s picture on my nightstand, and I can almost hear him trying to reason out answers to some of my questions. I know by the end of it, I’d have my hope renewed all over again, and wouldn’t have another dive into the world of Nihilism for a couple months. He was always good at that.

I do apologize for the dismal post.  And at the same time, I don’t care.

I saw this just this morning, and had to post it immediately as a follow-up to my last post.

(Comic by Jeffrey Rowland of Overcompensating).

Okay, I’d like to start with some personal outrage: How do you not believe in evolution?! You can’t just decide not to see all the evidence in the world all around you! Selective sight doesn’t give you the right to discredit the theory of evolution, and hope anyone who thinks so will accidentally put both hands into a meat grinder.

So, I just read about this movie called Expelled.  It was originally supposed to be called “Crossroads,” because it was intended to explore the “intersection of science and religion,” and even had the consent of Dr. Dawkins. Apparently, though, the title and production company changed, and the people that were interviewed were not informed of this.

To me, this is kind of like when I walk outside of a bar or restaurant and get a faceful of smoke, I think, People still smoke? This time, it’s just getting an eyeful of things like this:

And I have to wonder, People are still arguing about this stuff?

For God’s sake (pun quite intended), take a damn biology class.

I think the worst thing is the movie.  I haven’t seen it, but I’ve watch both the trailer and extended trailer.  This movie isn’t about the difference between Intelligent Design and Darwinism; no, it’s about how society attacks and discriminates against anyone that believes in Intelligent Design.  Look:

Ben Stein warns you in the extended trailer that by watching this movie you may lose your friends or your job.  I wouldn’t be against it if it was an actual intelligent film that explores two different views, but it isn’t.  It’s fine that the ID people want to have their say, but it isn’t fine that they make everyone else out to be bad guys.  “Oh, you believe in evolution?  You’ll probably discriminate against me because I don’t.”

Maybe it’s true.  Okay, fine.  Then why aren’t you advertising a movie that talks about the hardships of ID believers in society?  Why are you claiming to discuss the similarities and differences of two different theories?

So last night, a friend reminded me that I had made plans to go to a hardcore show - Firestorm Fest 2008 at the Palladium in Worcester - with him. When he told me, I was still at work, trying to pretend I didn’t have a throbbing headache and occasional waves of dizziness. I ended up leaving early, and all I wanted to do was go home and go to sleep. Then again, this was a friend I had neglected to see for quite a while for no good reason, and besides, I wanted to see Shai Hulud live!

So he picked me up, paid for parking, and found a place far from the mosh pit so I wouldn’t get hurt. We showed up about 2 hours after the show had actually started (we missed On Broken Wings, Randomshots, Rick Whispers, Since the Flood, and Unholy), and walked in right as one band finished. We stood through Down to Nothing and Recon, which weren’t bad but I had never heard of them, and instead of watching the performances, I was entranced by the pit. The hardcore dancers weren’t being assholes and beating the shit out of each other as I had expected — they were doing it right and just dancing. As the bands went through their sets, I got antsy. I wanted to be down there.

So I expressed my feelings, but we hesitated, because we had a good vantage point where we were. When Shai Hulud came on, though, things changed. We hurried around the crowd to the edge of the people ringing the pit, then Jarret said he’d be right back and disappeared. I stood, surrounded by bodies and staring at the pit, until I felt someone tap my arm. Looking forward, I was greeted with a vision of my guide, holding out a hand to me from a spot close to the stage, with a bright white stage light shining in my face over his head. It was almost a holy moment. The next thing I knew, we were pressed up against the barricade, center stage, no more than five feet from where Matt Mazzali was standing, thrusting his mic into the crowd. Someone caught a picture — it’s like a Where’s Waldo, can you find us?:

After Shai Hulud came Sworn Enemy, and the crowd got a bit rowdier. I loved it. We were crushed up against the barricade and had to always look around to make sure no fists or feet were coming our way, but I was right in front of an incredibly jacked, 6′5″ bouncer, so I was all set (then again, later in the show, that was the same huge guy who got knocked forward and nearly cracked my skull with his forehead. Unfortunately, no battle scar remains.) If anyone crawled over the crowd, and I didn’t push them over fast enough, the bouncer reached over my head and did it before they could get close enough to cause injury. I decided then that I like being the only chick near the pit at a hardcore show. Anyway, the band was fun, and though Matt had only stood on the barricade to our right, Sal Lococo was more than happy to move to other areas, including right in front of us, where I got a faceful of his crotch as people piled up, trying to get their chance to scream lyrics into the microphone.

Their set was good, but it was nothing compared to the show Terror put on. I swear that Scott Vogel was trying to kill me, because he kept telling everyone to move up and climb over everybody. I bet the bouncers didn’t like it when he urged the crowd to climb right over the baricades; a few guys tried, and got tossed back like rag dolls. I also got a faceful of his crotch (I look thrilled right before my sight was filled with his camo shorts) and ended up at the bottom at yet another pile-up.

Finally, the reason everyone was there (well, I was really there to see Shai Hulud) showed up, after taking a freakin’ half hour to set up. Earth Crisis was, by far, the best recieved band, which is cool, considering their stance on most issues. I find that I don’t really like their music — though live they’re amazing — but I do support their messages. I was pretty excited that I got multiple facefuls of Karl Beuchner’s crotch, but there was a moment that scared the hell out of me — one of the stage divers accidentally caught Karl and knocked him off the barricade. He was fine, but the bouncers kept their hands on his back to hold him up after that. Still, they were awesome, and I loved every song live even if I’m not a fan of the recorded versions.

I’m told that I have some bragging rights over the fact that, at the end of ECs last and biggest song, Firestorm, we were the base of the massive pile-up. You’re jealous, I know you are.

And you should be.