Archive for the ‘ writing ’ Category

Tonto!


Look, a picture!

I’m getting a new webcam, hopefully, for Christmas. Maybe I’ll start video blogging. It seems like an easier way for me to keep things recorded and archived in my life so I can review them.

I like doing that, by the way. I like reviewing past events. I read my old journals, look at my old sketchbooks, read old LJ entries, read old blogs, look at old pictures. I think it’s a great way to keep from hoarding objects. Someone give that idea to those hoarder OCD treatment specialists… Tell them to teach these fuckers to just take pictures and write shit. I’m brilliant sometimes.

I’m going to be baking/making today some stuff that I give out as Christmas gifts. I’m so domesticated. My friend Omar says that I am an IRG (indie rock gramma). I don’t think I’m that indie rock, but if loving BUST magazine, all music ever, knitting, baking, crocheting and cooking are any indicators, I guess I might be.

Netflix instant is amazing.

I got a 3.7-ish last semester. Are you proud? I am proud. My dad would say he’s “PER-OUD” because that is what Iranian accents do.

One of my essays on ethics from my philosophy class last semester: Assisted Suicide

St. Thomas Acquinas, philosopher and theologian, said that only God had the right to determine the duration of our existence here on earth in his defense of suicide being wrong and prohibited by the institutionalized Christian faith. But he never suffered from a debilitating illness that caused severe physical pain, mental anguish to everybody involved including himself, required constant assistance from others and, most terrifying, guaranteed his death, which might have changed his mind. What would you do if a terminally ill loved one’s dying wish was to die on his or her own terms, in a way that ensured it would be painless and quick before their sickness took it? Some places think the right to assisted suicide should be given to the patient who is facing terminal illness while some places have prosecuted those who have assisted.

St. Acquinas defended the prohibition of suicide in Christianity because, as he said, suicide violates the gift that God gave us of life. First of all, this from God who supposedly dictated that methods of testing for witchery included the accused being thrown in a body of water, and if they floated, they were a witch. This is the same religion who would burn people at the stake for being a witch (floating, really). That is irrational and unethical by many varied philosophies. Secondly, not everybody is a Christian. By using a Christian argument in laws, the regulation of separation between church and state is violated (as usual).

Assisted suicide, as per this paper, is considered a medical professional helping a terminally ill patient end their life. There are two main types of assisted suicide such as physician aid-in-dying (PAD) in which a doctor gives a competent terminally ill patient receives a prescription for a lethal dose of medication, terminal sedation is when a doctor puts a patient to sleep with medications and the patient either dies of underlying illness or starvation/dehydration, and voluntary euthanasia when death is by lethal injection by a doctor upon patient request. Prior to any type of assisted suicide, the patient must be considered mentally competent to make their own decisions by a medical/mental health professional and have a limited life-expectancy of about six months or less according to the Washington Death with Dignity Act (my basis for definitions). In this context, it means that physicians provide assistance to patients who are going to die and request help in controlling the timing and the circumstance of their death. The only states in the United States who feel that the terminally ill should have a choice over their death are Washington and Oregon. Around the world, there are many places with no laws against it like Sweden, Denmark, Germany, and Luxembourg but there is only a handful of places outside of Oregon and Washington who have legalized the practice: Switzerland, Belgium and the Netherlands.

Dr. Jack Kevorkian, from Michigan, was smeared across the news for his assistance in a patient’s suicide. The dramatic and eccentric doctor was even nicknamed Dr. Death. One of his “victims” was Thomas Youk, who suffered from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis which is a neurological disorder that is not only terminal, but causes the loss of voluntary movement prior to death. In court, a jury found Kevorkian guilty of 2nd degree homicide and distribution of a controlled substance (he had lost his medical license 8 years prior) and he was thrown in prison.

Friedriech Nietzsche and the existentialists of the world consider suicide unacceptable. In believing that life is absurd, they believe suicide fails to actually be absurd (as everything is). This is because the person choosing suicide is misinterpreting himself as not absurd and is trying to escape the absurd world he was unwillingly put into. Albert Camus argues that suicide is wrong with his quote “The important thing is not to be cured… But to live with one’s ailments.” He even considers philosophical denials to be a suicide because like suicide, it uses fictions, illusions, lies and manipulation to hide the fact that life is absurd. Of course, this means that religion itself could be suicide if we use those terms.

Aristotle fretted that suicide violates a person’s duty to reciprocity. However, I can take his argument and alter it to be an argument FOR assisted suicide. Bearing in mind the guidelines of the Right to Dignity Act, if one finds their ability to contribute back to society about to end against his or her will, is simply choosing an alternate to their inevitable end a substantial violation of our duty? If an assisted suicide occurs just before or after someone ends up in a vegetative or highly physically limited state, are they even able to fulfill their duty outside of philosophically debatable psychological comfort to others?

A libertarian might see it as morally acceptable. Having the right would be enjoyable even if it doesn’t really follow rational and the right of noninterference means that others are ‘morally barred’ from interfering with suicidal behavior argue for the case. Even stronger cases are found in our liberty right that says individuals have no obligation to or not to commit suicide and in our claim right, which signifies that others are actually morally obligated to support or assist someone’s choice of suicide. Also, attempts by the state or medical profession to halt or prohibit suicide are attempts to control or alter our ideas of individual freedom.

Utilitarianism has an idea on approaching a moral dilemma with Bentham’s principle of utility. We should look at the consequences of assisted suicide. The pros and cons offhand would be psychological anguish due to loss for those who care for the patient, possibly be less suffering for the patient, medical bills would cease stacking up from hospice and treatment and the patient would get to die by his own choice (a Pyrrhic victory in a way). The pros and cons of patiently waiting for illness to take its toll: longer, psychological anguish when patient dies, medical bills stacking up. Now, I ask you from an objective, rational stance whether the determined death (suicide) or uncontrolled (death by illness) is better?

The major philosophical question for me is that at the center of this subject is it is my belief that we own our bodies; our “tombs”, as Plato would have said, are our property and we solely have a right to do as we please with them. Simply being able to have the right of choosing our death in an occurrence where we are terminally ill gives us a reassurance of that personal freedom we have over ourselves. The suffering, whether mental or physical, we might experience, the burden and stress an illness might put on our loved ones, and the hopeless feeling of having to surrender the life you made to an illness you likely despise sounds like an awful way to end an existence. It is simply morally wrong, selfish and nonsensical to impose a further lack of choice for ourselves and the ones we love. My preference? I’d want to end it in my own terms with a professional who could make it painless after saying goodbyes as sufficiently as possible in an event like this.

hooked into the air conditioner.

i am the first to admit i have an unmistakable and undeniable attraction to artsy types, namely musicians and talented writers and artists. they’re always bad for me in same way or another, yet i tumble helplessly along with my affections every time. if they bear intellectual elitism alongside these traits, i cannot resist in the slightest.

it seems that if there isn’t some creative outlet in a person, i find them unattractive and boring. i may sound superficial, but appearances are at least somewhat important.

however, i’m not a fan of the situation i recently found myself in. keep in mind i am consistently kind and generous to friends and people i care about, but my sweetness peaks when i have affection for somebody. once again, i feel i was taken for granted as i came to discover i was only an option among myself and another girl to this guy. it was  new situation for me, being a choice when i’d make someone a priority.

never in my history had i had a ‘competition’. i don’t like competition in matters of social status, relationships and friendships, etc… so despite my strong feelings for this guy, who i know i will continue being friends with in a short period of time when i’m done cooling off (necessary, despite my lack of depressive reaction), i decided to back off. i miss him, i do. i really liked him. i guess i still do, but the stages of grieving were somehow not working right from the initial unveiling  (multiple sources) of the information that had been so easily hidden from me.

i remember being angry, having the burning, stinging in my cheeks. but i was inebriated, so it didn’t have me in tears as i anticipated. usually, i’m apt to crying. especially when i like someone as much as i did (questionably do?). there wast he burning. then the confrontation when i felt sad, but there was no lump in my throat. despite my inner workings trying to make me cry as it seemed appropriate… i just wasn’t sad enough. i went home, sat up until 5am pondering a multitude of things.

i went to bed. woke up early (insomnia’s onset is hastening from once being simply a delayed sleep cycle issue), felt frustrated as i was informed i had to take my step-father to the doctor (he cut himself, needed stitches, mom refused to attend). i recall yelping out in my empty house… a half-sob, half-scream. i felt the lump in my throat nearly explode as it suddenly was overwhelmed with frustration, sadness over the guy, and general dismay at my lack of sleep. within 30 seconds, i was silent. i washed my face, took my vyvanse, and got dressed.

that was all i had in me to express. right now, i’m almost waiting on a nervous swing for it to begin a-blowing and for me to go a-flying with sadness, but i digress. maybe i was prepared? maybe i am too jaded? maybe i’ve had my allotment of heartaches for one year and my body refuses to acknowledge any more? who knows, but either way — i’m good. i feel fine. i’m not as happy as i was when i was blissfully ignorant and being smitten, but i am still happy. i’m still in the green, the positives, the pluses.

since then what has transpired has been nothing short of ‘i love my friends’ and a refocusing of my life back on finding more, making more and enjoying more of those precious people i adore. one particular friend actually bought me a box of cupcake pebbles, which i had been gushing about incessantly for weeks and finally succumbed to posting about on facebook in a plea of ‘help me find these beautiful morsels!’ well, chris succeeded and has made my digestive system an immeasurably joyful one.

i love days like this when it’s all reminders of how amazing the people i surround myself are, even if they bruise up my heart a bit with frivolous romantic endeavors.

i’m getting a new tattoo this weekend, i hope. if not this weekend, i have june 12th to decorate my skin with a murder city devils themed tattoo (if not just their logo), hank (the rock and roll skull’s name) getting additional ink added to him, and a best friends tattoo with my darling sarah hendricks.

i am hoping to get my side tattoo done, my wrist tattoo, my forearms, etc all done by the end of this year. we’ll see though, i’m bad at keeping deadlines.

also, i finally let one person read my writing. he compared me to bukowski. surprising, i think.

how many words.

i want to have a passionate, sweet, amazing and incredible few hours with a wonderful guy.

i want to be smothered in affection, drowned in adoration…

when when when why why why how how how?

steal my friends from outer space

i’ve never been good at faking an emotion (i am always face value, heart value, soul value) so when i give off those half-hearted smiles, it’s because my heart must only be half there. the other half, well, it’s in for repairs after the damage.

i hope you are insured.

(a text message would’ve sufficed. i’m low maintenance.)

hanoi rocks, neil young, beatles. today. sad songs.

little brother, don’t do what i’ve done. stupidest thing a boy girl can do is go and fall in love.

a sweet, sticky meal of anxiety and preemptive worry. hyper-vigilance fueled by precedent; hoping not to be a fool of fraud (again).