Unknown Knowns

You know, I was at work the other day
and an old Boondocks quote
pulled from a Pulp Fiction quote popped into my head.
Basically, it goes:
"There are known knowns and there are known unknowns.
But there are also unknown unknowns:
things we don't know that we don't know."
But does that mean there are also unknown knowns?
You know, things we don't know that we know.

It would only make sense.
I mean there has to be, right?
We learn stuff all the time,
and sometimes it feels as if we've forgotten it.
But at the oddest moments,
a fact will randomly pop back into your mind
at just the right moment.
For instance,
I know how to draw,
but I sometimes forget how to draw.
This is until of course I actually draw something.

There's also another kind of a unknown known.
This would be repressed memories.
These are more so things that we know that we wished to forget,
so much so that we did and lived life without any knowledge of the fact.
Some events are so stressful or disturbing that it's better that we have no knowledge of it.
But somehow, one way or another,
the memory always pops back up,
usually years later.
When it does, it brings back painful thoughts.
Soon the event and your reaction
can be linked to your mannerisms, thought process, actions in the past.
It can be extremely startling if not handled properly.
Such is the property of unknown knowns.
I believe them to be almost as dangerousas unknown unknowns.
At least with those,
you truly know nothing of it.
Indeed,ignorance is bliss. :-/
Word.

A Midsummer's Night Stroll

I know it's not actually midsummer anymore,

as a friend informed me on Twitter,

but I've been meaning to take this walk since July,

so I say it still counts as midsummer. haha.

Tonight was my last opportunity to take this stroll

before I leave for Jerz and the freshmen begin to arrive.

Must say, not all I wanted it to be,

but I still enjoyed it.

Here's the account of my nice pleasant stroll.

Started promptly at midnight.

Left my dorm building and went on my way on campus grounds.

I walked lightly as I saw someone preparing to enter their building.

I was meaning to go that way, so I walked past until I was sure they entered.

I then doubled back and walked on.

They actually hadn't gone in yet.

Awkward, but I still walked onto discover it was a close friend of mines.

He was moving in a coffee table of sorts.

He showed my his new place for the year.

It was homey, even if he was the only one there.

We touched briefly on trees and other fun activities.

He offered me a sody-pop, but I told him I had a stroll to get back to.

It would have been nice to chat a bit longer though.

As soon as I exited the building,

I ran up the stairs outside

and ran into yet another friend of mines.

He was on his was back to his room.

He too talked briefly of trees as well as annoying exes.

I heard him out before we both split on our separate journeys.

Finally, I was alone to take in nature.

The air was stagnant, stale.

It retained the humidity of the day, making the walk less enjoyable.

There was also the white nose: a mixture of loud crickets and mating birds.

It was quite audible for the majority of my trip.

I walked across the bridge to the main campus.

I'm not sure why, but I ran into quite a few spiderwebs,

and this was the walkway that everyone uses throughout the day.

I saw the webs, even the prey, but never the spiders.

I found this interesting, but I decided not to dwell on it too much.

I noticed a flyer for a student film festival type thingy the day after I left for Jerz.

I cursed my luck briefly before I fled the scene as I saw an approaching body.

No more disturbstances.

I then stopped by the atm.

My body felt the need for there to be purpose to the stroll.

I allowed it to feel pleased, but I did not end there.

I marched on to the freshmen side of campus.

Figured I'd take in a few more sights.

I reminsced about my time at work in one of the building freshmen year.

My attention was then turned to the art studio among the buildings.

I had always wanted to know what the inside looked like.

With my new universal swipe, courtesy of my summer job,

I hesitantly entered the building.

It was dark, as I expected.

I turned on the light, but it only illuminated a closet to my left.

The kitchen was on my right.

And directly in front of me was the studio.

Everything had been moved to the side.

The easels and pads and supplies.

I noticed a skeleton amidst the mess.

With the dim orange light falling on it from high above,

it seemed as if it would come to life if I stepped more than 5 feet into the studio.

I noticed a second disassembled skeleton on a sofa on the fifth foot.

I decided it was getting late and made my exit.

Upon my departure,

I felt a presence behind me all the way to the main campus.

I heard steps and cracking of branches over the sound of humping crickets and squawking birds.

I constantly turned my head until I came to the Humanities building.

Funny that I should find refuge on the stoop of the spookiest looking building on campus.

It had been a mansion of sorts before it was a place of learning.

Rumors surrounded the place as I sat down on a lawn chair on its stoop.

I could not get comfortable,

and so I moved to the ledge.

Didn't feel too safe there either,

so I took my leave of the place.

I decided to take the street way back to my dorm room.

It was better that way.

The white noise seemed softer, soothing that path.

I did run into yet another spiderweb though before crossing the street.

I jay walked across the intersection.

Like, I actually walked halfway,

walked backwards in a curve,

and walked back across the street.

I had always wanted to do that.

Soon enough,

I was back in front of my dorm.

I did not feel as if I was being followed anymore.

I did however stay on the sidewalk

and out of the driveway in front of my building.

One can never be too cautious.

Word.

TMI

What exactly qualifies as too much information?

Does a 3 hour lecture count?

I mean, that just seems like a waste of time to me.

How bout knowing the exactly time down to the second that each Jon & Kate child was born?

Seems extraneous [big word for the day] to me.

I'm just saying,

too much information should include a wide spectrum of things.

Not just the disgusting and sexual.

Why are things like that too much information anyway?

Don't you want to know more about the people you interact with?

Do you not want them to be honest,

to be completely at ease around you,

to trust you so.

That's all I see it as.

You see,

I'm a very trusting and honest person.

I love to tell about myself and to listen as others talk about themselves.

I am a writer after all.

I enjoy being inspired.

If you really think about it,

we secretly want too much information,

in the usual definition of it.

My case and point:

the "never have I ever" part of the drinking game Kings.

The questions can get so revealing.

I must say, I'm a fan. Haha

I'd gladly play that game straight up. Haha.

I guess what I'm really saying is

don't shun your friends for revealing too much.

At the very most, just give them a look,

laugh it off,

and place it in your back pocket for when you need to keep them in check.

Word. ;-D

Faking the Switch

Now, some of you may have decided to read this
because you saw the title and said to yourself,
"What is this crazy nigger talking about now?"
and for this I am glad,
for this is what I wanted.

Well if you must know,
I'm talking about people acting like they're gay but aren't.
Yes, I know,
usually your hear about the opposite.
But you see, denial flows both ways.

Sometimes,
effeminate men feel displaced.
They look for a place where they belong.
Now you say, why don't they just become metrosexuals.
Well, 1) meterosexual is so 2005 or whenever it became trendy.
and 2) sometimes rejection from the female race or constant placement in the friend zone can cause a men to wonder if he may be gay.
Sometimes, a gay senses this in an unexpecting victim
and helps the young man explore his sexuality.
The man will resist but eventually give in,
and embrace his new culture.
He feels as if he belongs.

When people ask him how he knows he's gay,
he'll respond, "I just do."
Which is legit in some cases.
But then they ask,"have you even had sex with a guy."
To which he will reply,"I'm still a virgin, but even straight virgins know they're straight."
Which is, again, a legit answer.

But then you see him acting overly gay in situations that don't call for it.
The erotic eating of a banana.
Saying "ill. girls." constantly.
Applying eye shadow randomly.
Turning every comment into an awkward gay moment.
Not allowing anyone to say faggot.
Not allowing anyone to touch their hair.
Admitting to being a complete weakling.
Going out to clubs with his best girl friend.
Not saying that any gay that does this is not actually gay.
I'm just saying, when you comply to ALL the stereotypes,i
t kind of seems like you're trying.
And any trying to be gay is trying too hard.
Either you are or you aren't.

Don't hide out of the closet,
if that makes sense.
Be a man and except who you are.
Don't embrace being gay simply so that you can have an identity.
It's just silly and will only make you unhappy in the end.
And the same goes for you closet cases.
Don't think just cause I left you alone for now
don't mean I won't be coming for that ass later.
[no homo] Haha.
Word.

[I swear, I'm a mess.]

Nicknames

You know, I've often tried to give myself a nickname.
I started with my own faults.
Mushmouth, LeatherHands, Mumbles.
You know, the semi-catchy ones.
Well they didn't catch on.
Then I turn to good ol C. G. Wacko,
an alter ego I've held on to for a while before releasing it as a nickname.
It's slowly catching on.
C. G. or Wacko some people call me.
These monologues and my Facebook profile name as Cee Gee helps. Haha

But the best nicknames come from the ones people give you.
Kinda like family names.
My mother's side of the family calls me Greg
and my sister Raissa is called Ysha.
It's just how some families roll.
Others are given by friends.
Like today.
I had the... pleasure, one could say... of recieving
the nickname of Swarley and its variations.
This came from watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother,
where Barney is called Swarley by a coffee shop cashier and his friends catch wind of it.
One of the variations is Swarles Barkley.
My friends soon linked this to Charles, which I knew they would,
and the names have rolled on all day.
I'm sure it will continue until they possibly forget about it.

But,
instead of running away from it
and denying it,
I will attempt to embrace it,
for it is when you hate it most that it truly sticks.
My one friend is learning this as well.
Let say their last name is... Micadera.
This person would be called Fuckin Micadera when ever they did something wrong or just something ... "out there". Haha.
At first it bugged them,
but over the summer they are begining to own it.
They are Fuckin Micadera,
not in the literal sense of course,
but it is their name.
What they do makes them.
They should not feel shamed by it,
but praised by it.
They are worth such attention that they get called out on it.
I think that's pretty nice if you ask me.
But that's just the power of some nicknames I suppose.
The only true question is their staying power.
But they all differ.
To each their own.
Word.

Long Distance Relationships

You know how it usually goes.
You date someone for a certain period of time.
Then high school or college ends.
Maybe for the older folks, a new job opportunity pops up.
And for some reason,
no matter how far apart our new journeys may take us,
we attempt to salvage our relationships,
hold on to them,
even though we know they are destined to fail.
The phone, video chats, and regular check-ups can only do but so much.
We don't have our mate around us at all time.
Our memory of them begins to fade.
Their voice.
Their face.
Their personality.
We forget why we may have loved the person,
and for some of us,
we find a new one to replace them
before we even let them go.
Because we still want to hang on to what used to be.

Why?
Is not one of the purposes of life to move on and grow?
To let go of the past and to embrace the future and its uncertainties.
The past is the ultimate security blanket.
It keeps us grounded in what is familiar.
But we must break away from it.

Now, I'm not saying no long distance relationship can work.
I'm sure some has,
but this is because there is always the promise that they will definitely reconnect once they are no longer required to be seperated, at least to such an extreme as different states or nations.

I've actually been in a LDR of sorts.
It happened at the end of last summer,
met him the month before I left,
only saw him in person twice.
Not sure why I thought it would work.
I always told myself that LDRs weren't for me.
But you know me,
always willing you try anything once.
We chatted online and through text.
But it wasn't enough for me.
There hadn't been enough for me to build off off
or a LDR to work.
It had only been a month after all.
It was also a strong possiblity that he would no longer call Jersey a permanent residence, too.
With all this combined,
I realized I didn't feel for him in that special way.
I decided to no longer waste his time.
I picked a fight with him,
drew ihim through the right hoops,
and we broke up.
I couldn't live holding him back in Jersey.
We broke up just before Thanksgiving Break,
when we would have had a chance to possibly build our relationship more.
It just felt right to me.

The whole point of a LDR is the reunion,
as I've said before.
Without it,
there is virtually no point in persuing a LDR.
It's best to just move on...
True story.

Bromances

Such relationships amuse me.
I mean...well first off, it's a double standard.
Females have "girlfriends" all the time.
They're just really close friends.
No one assumes anything when a lady says,
"I'm goin out to the bar with my girlfriend tonight."
But when a guy says,
"Yeah, me and my manz are goin to the park this afternoon"
slight suspicion is raised.
I'm just saying,
guys need best friends too.

I think it's cool a guy can have someone
that kind of acts like a brother,
someone they can do everything with, tell things to,
with close to no judgment.
They have their own little inside jokes
that only they laugh hysterically at.
They do things unique to them.
They act as each other's consul; a life wingman, if you will.
They marvel in picture opportunities,
often posting them as profile pics at the same time.
It's adorable when you think about it.

But a thought did cross my mind the other day:
Can gay men have bromances, be it with other gays or straights?
I imagine it would be awkward either way,
and the suspicion would only double
if not become a definite thought in someone's mind.
Could the gay really resist attempting to take it to the next level,
knowing it could mess up the bromance?
From my experiences, gays are very impulsive.
They know what attracts them.
They know what they want.
But if such feelings and actions can be repressed and controlled,
then the bromance should function much like any other.
Just without any of the casual roughhousing.
Willpower can be strong, but it's never that strong. Haha.
I'd like to actually see one, or be involved in a bromance myself.
Very curious to see if it would work.
Who knows, I could be in one and not realize it. Hmm...
Word.