Learning Japanese By Ear

I'm trying to learn Japanese, and the process of doing so has been very interesting because I'm not doing it in any of the conventional manners, even as far as the outer reaches of the internet are concerned. I'm taking a completely different approach based on a random advert I saw on the internet. Said advertisement was flaunting a product called the Pimsleur Language Approach.

The Tiny Nuggets vs The Sideways-Eight Pile

So here's the deal in my mind right now now. Right now there's this huge pile of shit, and if I dig into it, there are a few nuggets of gold, but beneath it, lays an infinite supply of gold. I just have to clear it away. The gold that lay inside the shit doesn't even tempt me, but it really annoys me. I want to get to the real source of the gold, but it is more difficult than getting to the tiny pieces in the pile of shit. In order to get the real source of gold, I have to clean up the shit completely.

Mind-Stabbingly Angry (but not really)

That I want to stab it with a rusting jagged knife and watch it slowly bleed to death illustrates pretty clearly how angry I am with my own mind right now, or perhaps just a piece of it, for if I were angry with it entirely, I wouldn't be typing this; would I? That piece, we'll call it the emo-lobe for fun, is sending the purest form of ambivalence known to man directly into my emotional center at the most awkward times imaginable. At times when I feel worried, it decides to tell me that I also feel calm, and at times when I feel calm, it screams to me that I should also be worried. As a result, I don't know what to feel at times when I should feel something, and all of the parts of my mind besides the emo-lobe want me to be sure, so my mind is at a constant imbalance and will probably be so until the emo-lobe becomes more sure. 

Uppeeee

Life seems to be looking up for me right now, so I'm in a pretty good mood. What I'm trying to do is stay in that good mood as long as possible, so that the next time I hit it, it'll last even longer, and eventually, I'll almost always be in a good mood. Fun, right?

System Shlocking

I'm sick of thinking in such a depressive way, so right now I'm trying my hardest to get out of the system of thought patterns my brain currently occupies. It hurts my gut whenever I do it, but I have a feeling that it's supposed to. I have a feeling that it is somewhat similar to quitting smoking or video gaming, that it's gonna feel really bad to be out of it for a good while before it ever starts feeling good. I may not even notice when it starts feeling good, for it may be an "I got used to it enough." moment sort of like Stanley Yelnats's experience in "Holes," but I know that whatever pain I go through to get out of it definitely feels better than staying in it.

Battlefield

Right now my brain feels split in half, like there are two armies, both battling to the death, trying to win power over my inspiration. They don't want to compromise, nor does either one want to give up, so they fight constantly. I know which one of them I'm rooting for, but it seems like the control over the final verdict is either out of my hands or based purely upon long distance strategies that I initiate

I want to live

So here I am, sitting at the bottom of a dark well, the ring above me, and water all around me. I think to myself that there is no way out for me, that I should just give up, but then I get an idea.

I search around the water until I find a dead body, Samara's if you know the story. Then I look at the water irrigated face of hers and see how worthless she really is. I smile because she looks kind of funny in a creepy way, then I drop her and try to think of a way out.

Treasure Island

I remember when I was younger trying to read Treasure Island. The version my family had in the house was a really old looking worn out hardcover with a

Blandness

Thought dumpage, eh? I need to come up with a new name for this, seriously! Ahahahahaha. Here goes nothing. I don't know what the fuck to say. There's nothing to say, really. Everything's already been said. I don't want to keep typing, but my fingers keep moving regardless, so come on, and follow me into this magical world of brain knowledge soup. We'll go for the greatest dive ever. Make sure to bring your scuba-gear, or you may drown.

The Collupsus

Sinking sand best describes what I feel right now, being stuck in it. The harder I try to get out of it, that faster I sink, and if I choose to ignore it, I sink at a much slower rate, but I still sink. I have very little knowledge of sinking sand, so I don't know if it is possible for a person to get out of it on his or her own. In all of the movies I've seen that feature such an element, someone has to be on the other side to pull the sinker up, or the sinker has to have something to grab onto to pull himself or herself out.

The Worker's Pointless Problem

Once upon a time there was a lowly peasant, a worker who worked twelve hours a day beneath the baking sun on the king's various extravagant building projects. He, like nearly every other worker, hated the king and his selfish, pointless buildings, bridges, boats, and other things, for the king already had plenty of them, and the villagers weren't even allowed to glance at such architecture by law, or they would be beheaded and fed to pigs.

Bad Writing, the Road to Hell

I don't feel like I'm gaining much wisdom by typing my thoughts haphazardly. In fact, I may be loosing some. My grammar, punctuation, and paragraph structure feel like they're on a downward spiral toward nothingness.

Reading Trouble

I feel like a fool right now, a blind fool hopefully groping for some sense of fun, of meaning. I need something to hold on to, something that doesn't annoy me and that won't instantly disappear the moment that it's over. I think I need to read some more, at least until the point when I can read stuff without doubting whether I read a sentence right or not. Oh, by the way I'm having a sort of reading problem right now. (I forgot to mention that, didn't I? Silly me.)

Door

Billy got up and began walking toward the door. "Where are you going, Billy?" his mother said. He turned to her, pointed towards his head, and made a circular motion with his index finger. "Make sure to pick up some bread on your way back." she said. He slammed the door on his way out.

Each step he took on the gravel path that lead to town echoed across the barren land that lay before him. Why did he do this walk everyday? Was the one piece of bread and jar of milk really worth so much trouble? He sighed. It was pretty hot today. The sun looked kind of different as well. It was a lot more red than usual.

After two hours of walking, Billy looked up and smiled when he saw a giant watchtower far off in the distance, the edge of town. He began to increase his pace a bit, and in no time he was standing in front of a ten foot high wooden gate. 

A voice came from above. "Who goes there?" Billy looked up and saw what looked like a kid dressed in armor, must be new. "Billy goes here!" he said. The guard pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and started reading down it. "No need to check," Billy said, "I'm not on the list." The guard dropped the piece of paper. Not on the list? He looked down at Billy.

My Little Pony

There is a lot of things I can write about, but none of said things come instantly to mind, so I'll just begin my prose by saying that I don't know how I'm going to begin in some long winded sentence that no one really enjoys reading. Hopefully I can come up with something to type if I think hard enough, for I am in strange waters right now, and don't know which way goes where. There are no roman's to do as they do, so no, I can't be a copy cat. Perhaps I have to create my own village, or my own house. Perhaps I'm stuck on an island like Robinson Crusoe, and I have to survive on my own until a Friday finds me, and chooses to help me.