Saturday November 22, 2014

I woke up usually early that weekend’s morning. I woke naturally which was always the best way to awake - at least for my preference. I felt completely rested and alert. This feeling was a change of pace. The time of awake was of around 8:30, more or less.
When I awoke I first did my morning rituals My rituals usually stared with the brushing of my teeth, applying acne medicine and using the restroom. Although, this morning I didn’t use my acne medicine. I hadn’t been using it much since my dermatologist changed the product. The new product was hard to use since it was bleach based and I often ruined my attire.
Still in my briefs, I went downstairs to were the kitchen was located for a light breakfast. I was at my Mother’s apartment this weekend were the kitchen and tv/living room were located on the bottom floor, while, the bedrooms were located on the top floor. It was a rather nice apartment somewhere between 1,500 and 2,500 square feet. The apartment had nice wood floors and floor to ceiling windows that let in beautiful light during the mornings. I wasn’t pleased with the interior decorating done by my mother. Her art pieces and furniture had contradicting styles. The art was modern and somewhat art deco, while, her furniture choice was … well I’m not quite sure what. The furniture used a sufficient amount of dark wood, similar to that of craftsman, while it also had a minimal Spanish and African influence.
I then returned upstairs and put on my clothes for the day. I wore my gray Yale sweater, my super -short swim trunks with Bacardi logo and my tank top that said ‘R.A.R.E. individual’ in blue font on the chest. Then I drove to my Father’s house were I got ready to work on my A.P. Physics project. I grabbed my computer a pen and a pad and waited outside. My friend - or more accurately, friendly acquaintance - Steven Wang came to pick me up. He came quick so I didn’t have to wait long. Steven had one of the nicest cars in the entirety of the school. He drove an all white AMG series Mercedes Benz. The car was valued at somewhere in between forty and sixty thousand dollars. He claimed he paid for the lease by himself but I wasn’t certain of this. I find it hard to believe a sixteen year old could afford such luxuries as a fifty-thousand dollar car.
Steven was a five foot eight asian fellow who wore strictly designer brands. He also had an unusual addiction. He was addicted to Adderall. It was quite queer. He also claimed to make his income from selling this commodity.
When he picked me up we met with the third and final member of the group at her house. Her name was Mary. This was my first time going to her house. It was a beautiful house. I’m not quite sure which architectural style it could be categorized as but there are definite signs of craftsman architecture. The house was a substantial size. Approximating, it would be somewhere between 4000 to 5000 square feet. I have a decent idea since I was found of architecture and real estate.
Architecture was a small hobby of mine. At times of boredom I often design properties on a free architecture software, Autocad. It’s not free but it was in my scenario since I pirated the software.
And I’m also familiar with real estate for three main reasons. The first main reason is that I enjoy window shopping properties to give me motivation for my future. I also browse because I feel absolute joy imagining myself in million dollar houses. I guess that’s an outcome of being raised in a pure capitalistic environment.
The second reason is I know a great deal about real estate is because of my eldest brother. My brother, whose name is Donald, but more currently goes by Don, is currently attending university while outside of school attempting to get his real estate license.  Or is it his broker license. I’m not quite sure but nevertheless, because of his interest I have adopted an interest due to his influence.
The final reason is my uncle’s influence. My uncle, who coincidentally is also named Donald, is a multimillionaire who I am minimally helping with flipping a house. When I say minimally helping I am referring to minor construction help and minor opinion input. This current project is a now five-million dollar property on the actual summit of Beverly Hills. His plan is to change the square footage from 2,000 square feet to 12,000 square feet of property. His expected revenue is twenty million to forty million. The house he is planning on building I find to be stupidly enormous. I don’t understand why some humans would ever need 12,000 square feet to satisfy.
But I digress. Back to the continuation of my day, Mary, Steven, and I began our project. Our project was the the use of advanced physics in architecture - which, imaginably, was great for me. We worked for some time and eventually grew famished. Our group decided to go get cuisine at a Spanish restaurant called La Estrella. Unfortunately La Estrella wouldn’t have been open for another hour. After we went to Walmart and picked up some materials. We needed supplies to build a model. Our next food location was Blaze Pizza. We chose this restaurant because it’s location was adjacent to an arts and crafts store. Fortunately Blaze Pizza was open. Blaze was a build your own pizza restaurant - a hip new fad. One detail of this event was when the clerk asked for my name to announce when my pizza was complete I had difficulties deciding on a fake name. I liked the usage of false names. Lies have always been fun to me, unless of course they have large negative effects. I ended up using the name ‘Casiago’. Theres a deep story behind that name.
The name originated in Architecture class Freshman year. In that class we had a sufficient amount of extra time to do whatever desired. Since we had computers I decided to make a false(kinda) Twitter account under this name. The full name was Casiago Endeveaour. Endeavor spelled incorrectly since the spaceship Endeavor flew over our school that day. The name caught on surprising well. Too well in actuality. I would be known more as Casiago than Casey for a solid two years. Eventually though, the name finally wore.
After we ate, we went to the arts and crafts store to purchase the supplies which were needed.
Then, we returned to Mary’s house and worked on our project some more. We finished the math and started the construction on our house. It was fun working. I truly enjoyed it.
During this time I made plans with a few of my friends, Sumner and Connor, to tailgate the UCLA vs USC game. Unfortunately, the project would continue after the start of the game so the tailgate would never occur. I was excited for the tailgate. I’ve never tailgated before and was quite honestly just looking for any excuse to drink. I needed validation to drink. I had the superficial idea that drinking at a certain event or activity was socially and morally more acceptable than consumption whenever. This philosophy reminds me of the state law in New York that prohibits the selling of unopened bottles of alcohol before noon. The time doesn’t affect the damage exerted on the body nor affect the level of inebriation but is rather outlawed for the sole purpose of social acceptance. But, unfortunately for my circumstance I was unable.
After we finished the project I had no returning means back to my house, argo, I had Sumner come to pick me up. We went to my house and I showered and cleaned up. I was trying to be extra hygienic because of the high possibility of attending a party that night. If there was a social gathering with possibility of opposite sex present I would feel obliged to be on my best physically.
We would then go to meet with Connor. We picked him up at his house and started to drive. For the fist 15 minutes of the car ride I felt we were going to a destination. We drove north for this time until I asked “Where are we going?”
Sumner and Connor both replied, “I thought you knew?”
Their responses confused me given I wasn’t driving and had no control of where the car was headed. With no destination we did what we usually did in desperate times of boredom. We drove with no destination yelling at bystanders and making complete assholes of our selves. One thing Sumner and Connor found surprisingly amusing was pulling over and asking pedestrians for directions to obvious locations. I initially found this amusing the first few times for reasons unknown. After a while I grew bored of this like many of our other group activities.
Another activity I grew bored of was stealing lights and other front lawn ornaments. This was a juvenile and immature activity that initially gave us unmeasurable adrenaline. After a while, the stealing became routine losing its affect. We always gave validation for our crimes. We claimed we were stimulating the economy. A term I coined. Basically it’s the belief that all of our stolen merchandise would be replaced and bought from a third party putting money into circulation. We strictly stimulated in upper class communities that could easily afford the basic fixes. We knew that we weren’t doing a moral justice or any other good deed but by saying we were made it substantially easier to sleep at night.
We continued to drive for about an hour. We eventually got bored and decided to go to my estate to relax for a while. My residence was an expected place to regroup and collect ourselves. Here our other friend, Mac, would meet us. We would do basic things to pass the time. Nothing of which I’m proud to say involved a television. We mostly just sat around the large couch in my living room and had talks about whatever subjects crossed our minds. Here, I also had attempted to jump start my brothers car since he was attending school in Delaware and that car hadn’t been started in a while. The battery had died so we used my car’s battery in a an attempt in recharging it. Unfortunately though, this was a futile effort. The battery was completely ruined and I would need to call Triple A in the morning for it be fixed. The car was beautiful. It was a shiny ruby colored 1996 Jaguar.
We returned to our talks and Sumner eventually departed. As editor, he was hosting a thanksgiving party for the school newspaper. Replacing him almost instantly, Caleb came over.
Then Caleb, Mac, Connor and I decided to make a plan for the continuation of our night. We already had a few addresses for parties but the conflict now was to figure out our mean of transportation.
During this time I grew bored and dosed off into my own thoughts. I started writing a poem within my head. It was sounding well so I went to get my computer to inscribe it. The poem I wrote, I am decently content with. It was substantially better in my head but nevertheless it turned out well.  The poem was entitled “Segments of a Life Still Young.” There are elements to it in which it could easily be perceived as immature even though my intent was to have the upmost mature language. It writes:
Segments of a Life Still Young
Mellow like the grapes in the autumn sun
I look back and reflect on the past
The different lives I’ve lived within this life
They flew away so fast

Reading Tupac and Biggie with my hearing aid
I relate to where they’ve been
I waved that flag of piracy
Tried hard not to give in
Rebelled for the sake of rebelling
To show them I couldn’t be pushed

I took advice from a blind man whose dog wore dark glasses
It seemed like the thing to do

Seeking glory I rode up stream
Was overwhelmed by the inconsistencies
As the middle aged masterbater chased the adolescent business man
Till his sheets were stained with life

Making love on the sands of infected beaches
Legs and breast like a Thanksgiving turkey
I gave my ego a meal

I’m growing old but far from limp

High-tide comes and goes
The seagulls return in spring
And my ego still gets hungry

I rarely wrote poetry but when I did I always applied myself to my Macimum potential.
Before recently, I had found poetry to be quite boring and rather pretentious to an extent. I correlated poets with a stereotypical college student who was undefined and searched for definition by trying the art of poetry. The type of person who was desperate to be unique, desperate for depth. For most of my life I viewed poetry as a false art only used by people to give superficial personal depth and more importantly social depth. I believed most of these superficial poets yearned, more than anything, to be seen by fellow peers with more intelligence and to escape from being just another face in the crowd.
But my views on poetry changed abruptly after reading the works of Pablo Neruda, Maya Angelou, and other great classics. I finally saw poetry for what it really was. I finally saw it as a true interpretation of sensation. The motive of the greats is to write from the sole, contrary to that of the pathetic collegiate motive.
Even though I despise the college poet and deeply respect the greats, I would identify myself more similar to the superficial college poet searching to be unique. I yearned to change my motives however I knew I was currently pretentious on this topic. The reasons for my personal statement is in an effort to try to not to deny my flaws. I realized embracing all my flaws would bring truer happiness.
But again, I digress. After some searching we eventually found someone willing to drive. The person was a young women named Abigail. She was also with her friend, Amaya. Her name was of Japanese ethnicity and she preferred not to use her given American name. She never did share her American name.
Whenever I thought of Abigail, or more specifically her name, I referred to the play, The Crucible, by Arthur Miller. Abigail was the wicked antagonist who manipulated and destroyed the puritan city of Salem. The Abigail I knew represented none of the similar traits but I still viewed her as Arthur Miller’s character.
Now, with certain plans of attending a party, we started our consumption. Connor, Caleb, and I drank. Mac didn’t partake. I believe he did this because he didn’t like alcohol, not for health reasons. Although, he did smoke a lot that night. It was mostly him and Connor that smoked. Caleb and I didn't partake, not because of health reasons, but because of preference. We became intoxicated, and some of us under the influence of cannabis, and we watched Netflix as we continued to wait. We watched Justice League Unlimited, a favorite from all of our earlier youths. We watched it for the sole purpose of nostalgia.
Soon after about an episode or so, our driver came. They came later than they had previously stated. We were told by them that their time of arrival would be at eight but they arrived at around eight-thirty. The time wasn’t that big of an issue but because of their fallacy we wasted time waiting for the remainder.
Abigail’s car was a cheap navy SUV which made it easy to fit masses of people which was perfect for our situation. I respected Abigail’s car because she paid for her car herself by working a minimum wage job. Contrary to myself who simply inherited a car from my affluent background.
When I first saw Abigail I initially noticed her scarf. It was a blue polk-a-dot scarf that amazingly brought out her vibrantly blue eyes. She was a decently attractive women. She was average height and brunette with a decent bone structure and physical build. Although she was beautiful I never saw her in that perspective, I saw her more as a friend, same way I would have viewed any of my male friends.
Her friend that she was with, Amaya, was a stereotypical looking asian for the most part. The only exception was she was abnormally tall, around five-foot-ten.  She was also seen decently attractive although I didn't because I was never attracted to asians. I was truly a racist in my sexual judgment.
When they arrived, we were told we couldn’t attend our primary address. The primary address was a South Pasadena party which was rare. There was only two or three so far this scholastic year - including one hosted by myself and another hosted by Abigail. The reason for us unable to attend was because the host wasn’t familiar with some of us. I was, and so were the girls and Caleb. The host was familiar but not enthusiastic with Trenton and was not aware of Mac and Connor’s existence. We already knew this and our initial plan was to go anyways. We figured once there they wouldn’t kick us out. I figure worst came to worst, they would attempt to kick us out and we would combat. I knew the crowd that would attend and knew they were the farthest thing from combatants. I was confident with my abilities, I knew I could hold my own. Also, if by chance I lost I always had the support of my eldest brother and his acquaintances who were well know for their combat abilities. I liked argumentation and conflict. I never resented or had anger against anyone, but I liked the philosophy of combat as sport.
But, the people I was with rather avoid conflict. Instead we went to a private school address somewhere in Los Angeles. I’m not sure exactly where it was nor did I care to find out.
The function was outside which I usually disliked. There was about 200 in population somehow compressed into a 2000 square feet backyard. At the party I did nothing of importance. I met some people and reunited with old friends. Eventually some more people from South Pasadena arrived which made it nice to see some familiar faces. I was glad to see my friend Trenton had came. Trenton, Caleb, and I had some fantastic talks. We always had our own unique adventures whenever we met up. I considered them to be - indefinitely - two of my most valued friends.
I continued to walk in my solace conversing with random encounters I made. I tried in being more conversational. I knew it was a trait I would consistently need in the following of my life.
One exceptional conversation I had was with these two young woman I had only met once before. There names were Evelyn and Elizabeth. One of them went to Notre Dame and I can’t recall the school the other attended. Although, I am positive that they were both of stereotypical religious all girl private high schools.
Evelyn and Elizabeth were similar in physicality. They were both around five-foot three or so, brunette, and decently physically attractive. Although, I must say Evelyn was slightly more attractive than Elizabeth. Even though Elizabeth was not quite as attractive, I spent most of the time conversing with her solely. I know attractiveness shouldn’t play a role in my preference of conversation but I am after all a testosterone filled sixteen year old.
I’m not sure on what topic our talks consisted of but I remember them having depth. I do recall for a brief second talking to Elizabeth of Machiavelli philosophy. I had only read a few passages of Machiavelli’s writings, including The Prince, but I still found the topic a facile discussion topic. The outstanding effect of this talk was her ability to actually comprehend and give input in this material. Most women or even men for that matter were unaware of such philosophers or even other mature topics.
The idea of a female that knows philosophy was an amazing characteristic. Otherwise I would have never saw beauty with her. I usually found external beauty much more gran than intelligence but I was on a self-driven pursuit to be less shallow in my judgment. The nigh ended with a final conclusion of her being extremely attractive because of this. So much so, that I was disappointed in not being able to at least get a phone number. Not that I was rejected. I had planned on asking before I left but I was forced to leave abruptly.
Another unrelated event from this function I can remember in detail was a brief conversation I had with another young-woman. I’d say her name but I can’t recall it. The conversation itself was somewhat boring, nothing of importance. She was extremely basic in every sense of the word. Her beauty was strictly physical, contrary to of before. One more detail of interest was she was in town for only one more day, originally from Missouri. The only reason for my vivid remembrance was of my friend Caleb’s actions. During my conversation I remember him walking towards me, completely intoxicated, yelling at me with the most obscene language. His dialogue made my current conversation with the girl awkward to an extent.
To his incomprehension of the situation he believed he was whispering but he was clearly not. I found his actions more comical than anything. He kept telling me I should have ‘hooked-up’ with her.
I never did ‘hook-up’ with that girl. Not that it wasn’t in my ability. My reasons for never attempting was because I feared regret. I was inebriated to a substantial extent and I was not confident with my judgment. Also, I mostly talked to girls not to ‘hook-up’ with, but rather prove to myself that I could. It was all psychological. I desired complete control of all aspects of my life. The only aspect left was sex.
I must sound super over-confident and elites in my current writings. Rightfully so, it’s probably because I am truly elites. Being elites gives me my confidence.
An example of my elites is I believe I have the right to conduct minor social experiments on others. For example, at the party I ended up somehow taking over the music at the party temporarily. My social experiment was to play a misogynistic song and see how the masses reacted. The song of my choosing was the song Bitches Aint S***, by YG. The objectification is clearly even in the title. When the song was played, every single girl in the crowd sang along to every single word. I found it comical how the women self-objectified themselves. I know this is in no way a clear representation of the entire female population or even a significant percentage.
At around ten-thirty, we departed. This was unusually early. We left because Trenton convinced us all to attend another gathering. It was at his friends house and none other that was with us knew of the host. Initially when we got there it was quite uncomfortable. And it stayed uncomfortable until we eventually left.
The ride home was comfortable for myself. The car was tight so I decided to be in the trunk. It was comfortable because it wasn’t a conventional trunk since the car was an SUV. In the trunk I had a pillow and blanket which made it substantially more comfortable that the seats would have been. Plus, being inebriated helped.
When I arrived home, before entering, I noticed a black Jaguar car parked in the garage. I entered the house, trying to be as quite as possible as to not wake up my father. I tip-toed to my room and opened it to find my brother sitting in solace with his head in his lap. He was positioned on the edge of my bed with his hands over his eyes.
When he saw me he arose from the bed and left the room. His face down the entire time as to not revel his face. He then went into the living room. I followed from a far intrigued in his actions and wellbeing. In the living room my father was sitting in solace in almost total darkness. The only light emitting from the time on the cable box: 11: 14 exactly. I still kept my distance.
I was at a far from them so I wasn’t able to hear all the dialogue they shared. From where I was I only heard mumbles and the occasional yell. It seemed to me to be an argument. Most common from there encounters. It seemed they always found something idiotic to dispute about. Probably because they were so similar in so many ways. Both ignorant and stubborn.
They then moved rooms - still in conflict. Now I could hear all clearly. They were debating about my fathers newest relationship affair. The argument became only yelling. No attempt in debating to inquire. The pair then continued to wander all throughout the house. They finally ended up outside of the house next to the Jaguar parked in the driveway. Now knowing who the car belonged to, my father’s current affair. The reasons for calling her an affair is I don’t want to make the realization she might be permanent. I feared a change of that type. I enjoyed my families current dynamic.
The argument now changed from yelling to physical contact. This was also common between them. There combat was always the same. My brother would hit him with a decent punch, always restrained from his full strength, followed by my father subduing him on the floor. Whenever the physical combat occurred I was always relieved. Sounds queer but I knew after the combat they always made peace with each other. I know it’s not politically correct to say but I do believe physical combat is the easiest way to solve most conflicts.
After the scuffle, they returned inside and started debating to inquire. They saw both sides and disagreed but respected each other. They loosely embraced each other and continued to go to bed. My father did immediately but my brother did not for the time being. Instead, he came to my room and we talked about the situation. The most obscure occurrence of our talks was my brother’s eyes. He cried which was unusual. He never cried. Never. His persona he had built over the years depicted him as stone.
Looking back at what had occurred, what I specifically noticed was - when the situation became serious my inebriation suddenly disappeared. Maybe I was myself fake in a sense.
After Don departed from my room, I went to bed … for the time being. At around one in the morning my friend Andy called me. I picked up the phone, mumbling my words due to just awaking. Andy was asking if I wan’t to meet up. I first though no, but then I told myself the same thing I tell myself every time I say no, “Why waste any opportunity for happiness?”
I forced myself up and he came to my house. When he came I got in his car and went to Sumner’s house to get him.The group I found myself with were substantially more energized than myself. I was mildly depressed for some unknown reason. I kept complaining of the most simplistic problems.
I explored deeper into my psych to further explore my reasoning for my state. I came to a conclusion it was because I kept finding less activities amusing. I was starting to not enjoy parties, I didn’t play video games or even watched television - even sex was less appealing. But my dear friends did convince me into happiness. We went on the most peaceful bike ride. It was nice to do something different from the usual.
The bike ride was basic. We rode anywhere from three to six miles. We ended up at the Rose Bowl stadium. During our escapade we were pulled over by the Police twice. Both for the same reasons: no helmets or reflectors. Each occurrence, the officers were understanding and patient.
After traveling to the Rose Bowl we returned to our houses and separated. When I arrived home I looked back on the ride.
The ride reminded me the true joys of life. They reminded me I didn’t need drugs, alcohol, or even women, to be content. On this note I ended the night with the upmost contentment for my life.