Drunken Meditation Doesn’t Work.

So apparently my current thing is to write a totally random blog post when I’m drunk. Actually, it’s random drunken post when I’m angry and drunk. But I try not to show my anger because that would just make reading this lame. My emotions aren’t for everyone else to know.

But anyways.

I use to meditate a lot back in freshman year. Freshman year was also a tough time for me and meditation help me controll a lot of things. So the combination of angry drunkenness and meditation don’t mix.

I believe that when people think of meditation they think of spiritual enlightenment and general lameness when someone other than a monk is doing it. To me, meditation is a moment of calm. A moment of reflection. A moment when I don’t have to think about everything else that is going on in my life. It’s actually a really wonderful feeling. It’s a state of total relaxation with your mind totally open. It feels like my senses are heightened but the outside world is completely dull. A strange balance between total awareness with a sense of disconnection.

The combination of intoxication and meditation don’t mix though.

That whole feeling of worldless-ness and combined with my lack of balance. Everything just combines and tears each other apart. The moment of relaxation and happiness is ripped apart by the ridiculous-ness of alcohol. You realize all your greatest weakness and all of your greatest faults. The moment of solitude and reflection becomes a moment of realization and anger.

You’re supposed to learn from your mistakes. Your mistakes don’t always affect outwardly and toward your surroundings. I haven’t learned from my mistakes yet. Maybe it’ll all hit me after all my mistakes are done. I’ll probably have a huge moment of “Oh shit” ness and I’ll realize everything.

Now that I think about it. That moment will probably come with my hang over.

I am another drunken post.

It’s been a long time since I last posted anything that is worth while. I played with the idea of a “Links of the week” post every week because I’m so lazy and I think I might do that. I’ve been too busy to consider anything though.

So tonight, in my drunken stupor, I’ve decided to define Life. At least what I consider life. I considered certain aspects of life but maybe that’s not right. Maybe it should be categorized as stages.

The young stage. The fucking rebel stage. The “I think I found what I really am” in high school stage. The “Oh shit, this is what I really am” in college stage. The “Lets party all the time cause It’s fucking cool” stage. Then maybe the stage where everyone else parties while you sit back and be anti social stage.

I think I’m at that last stage.

But from that last stage comes random blog post and random stuff at a totally random time.

And from that comes the realization that everyone is one way or another put into a cookie cutter sheet and comes out the exact same way.

People try so hard to distinguish themselves from other people but in reality EVERYONE IS EXACTLY THE SAME.

Maybe I’m just saying that cause I’m in the bitter anti social stage. Then again I’m only in this bitter anti social stage because I’m jealous of everyone else and how I’m not getting anywhere.

Oh wait. That’s depression.

Of course with my super POSI attitude that I apparently have allll the time, this doesn’t affect me. I have no depression because that’s the way life is. This happen for a reason and this is why it’s happening to me. Any attempts that happen end in failure but those failures mean nothing. Because that’s the way things are supposed to happen.

Things will fall into place for me and I won’t have to worry about anything. Although this may seem like a large amount of sarcasm, this is actually what I believe in. Surprisingly I could be pushed around by people and stepped all over but I think that things will right themselves and I’ll be just fine.

Life isn’t worth anything without emotional and physcial struggle.

And now my rant comes to an end. I realized what I have just done, which involved writing about ridiculous things that doesn’t matter to anyone else except me. I’ll read back on this and think that I shouldn’t have written this but I’ll keep it because it’s part of my life. This snapshot of my life will be open for anyone on the massive amounts of tubes called the internet can see instead of my little black notebook that no one has seen.

I am a couple of cups sitting on a coffee table.

This post is only to point out the fact that I like to think in really odd ways and personify strange things. I just like to personify. For example, “The laptop squeals in anguish as his owner, Mervin Choun, types out an agonizing blog post about cups on his coffee table.”

Like the cups that are sitting in front of me right now. Left out by their respective owners who actually grabbed them in the first place. Left out to be forgotten and left out to be left there for a long time. A combination of mugs, free plastic drexel cups, fancy glass cups, and a lonely Poland Springs water bottle. All standing up right but one knocked over.

Who do these cups belong to? All six of them don’t know. Except for one. The writer of this post. The one with the plastic drexel cup. Claimed by him for all to know. That cup is fucking mine.

But what about the others? Oh wait, another one just popped up. Hidden by the screen of this laptop is another mug. Strangely enough, one of the mugs that the writer of this post brought to this house and is usually reserved for him. What’s it doing out here? Good question.

All of them almost empty except for the last drops that the last user had left. The last drops that we like to call “backwash”. We all know that the last bits of a bottle or a cup are really the saliva of the previous user (or users). All of that backwash is the only evidence of the previous owners.This is a sad and lonely story. A sad and lonely story that could only be reserved for these type of cups. The futures of these cups are unpredictable and probably wild. They could be used once or they could be use various times. They could be used by the same person or by multiple people confusing that cup as their own. They could be filled with the pureness of Philadelphia tap water or possibly by the vile and evil liquid of liquor or beer. They could end up being left there for days without being washed or being washed immediately after use, ready for another rotation of lips coming to their lips.

Of course, that’s what these cups live for. The lip to lip action! No matter what they were originally crafted for, these cups need the be drank from. Without it, they are no long cups but merely containers of liquid. Simple tupperwear without a lid! And without a doubt, these cups do not want to be pushed down to the lowely class of tupperwear. Although they may be kings of leftovers, they are merely paupers to the fine china.

As said before, the future of these warriors of liquid may be uncertain. But one thing is certain to this drunken writer. They all will end up getting washed, and they will all ended up in the exact same spot.