#ceresandpluto

Meow meow says the cat

Pouncing about in search for a rat

Now now dinner’s near

Paws together and sing a cheer

In the dinner bowl here we go

Crunching munching don’t say no

After a while it’s all gone

A battle cats never have won

Because to them its always time for dinner

Meow meow cats are always the winner

I suppose the New Year wouldn’t be a new year without having some resolutions. It’s a well-known fact that resolutions tend to be hopeful dreams and misleading stars of motivations. If this is so, then it would suit me just fine. Let the dreamer dwell in his dreams, for that is where he is happiest.

For 2016, in hopes that she will be kind:

1.       Write everyday

2.       Create art

3.       Exercise everyday

4.       Make innovation and change

5.       Grow

2015 gave me a lot of things, all of which I gladly accepted. It gave me my 21st birthday, which for some is a big milestone. 21 signals one’s coming of age, when a boy turns to a man, when the learned learns to be wise, when life as we know it truly starts. The year gave me memories, of which I shared with my good friends. We watched each other grow a year older, but none the wiser, sharing time as if it were marshmallows being passed around a bonfire. And it felt exactly like that, a series of moment illuminated by laughter, the tell-tale sign of belonging. Perhaps the most significant thing the year gave me was a second chance. That, I can say for sure, is something I truly am thankful for.

If there was a right moment to feel nostalgic, I suppose tonight would be a good time for it, although I can’t say I feel it without a hint of melancholy. With all the joy I got out of 2015, it might feel strange to some if I say that this year made me sad. I think that when people say goodbye, their hearts yearn to cry out, but refuses to for the sake of the moment. People say ‘bon voyage’ or ‘sayonara’ with smiles on their faces, and the reason for this is to support their friends’ decision to follow a different path. If we think about it, it would be an injustice to these friends if we cry and stop them from doing what they seem right, subjecting them to guilt that isn’t theirs to carry. It’s not until later, perhaps a month later, that you feel heavy, acheing with the realization that things will never be the same.

And now I say cheers. Here’s a glass to 2015, that we will never have another year like it, yet still call onto it whenever we need it. 

I find a distinct pleasure in sniffing my own finger. Just a moment ago, I had the urge to scratch my watermelon buns, the ones on my behind if that seems a bit vague. And straight away, almost by instinct, I sniffed my finger. 

I thought this was interesting. My finger didn’t particularly smell nicely. In fact, it smelled kind of peculiar, as you would expect. It was like a perfume concoction made by ethers dug from people’s insecurities, things that we don’t want other people to see, or in this case smell. The fact that smelling my own finger doesn’t bother me at all tells me that my smelliness isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Now I think I actually smell good. Maybe I shouldn’t think that...

11:49 PM

I just made coffee. 

I don’t know why I did.. I wasn’t planning on staying up tonight. But here I am, 10 minutes to midnight, with a cup of HOT hot hot coffee in my hand, wrapped in a thick blanket. How cliche lol. I should be in a movie right now. Btw this isn’t important, but I absolutely can’t stand hot drinks. I always always burn myself! So I always have to wait for it to be warm before I can drink it. Hassle right? Welcome to the clumsy world. Population: me

Spotify’s on and I feel really chill. :) Way better than earlier. I feel like smoking a cigarette but I won’t, because I know I should stop and it makes us both feel like crap. While G’s in dreamland dreaming of zombies, or possibly being chased by cops, or cats, I will write. If it isn’t obvious, I started this with zero idea of what to talk about exactly. But there’s also a beauty in the randomness of things, right? Pancakes. Cats. Panda. Rainbow Unicorn Attack.

Haha seriously though. Two hours ago I was talking to G like always. I’ve been feeling down lately and whenever I feel this way his advice to me is always the same:Remember the good things.  

See, this is my dilemma and i’m sure i’m not the only one who thinks this way. When I feel like shit, my thoughts turn into shit. My actions turn to shit, what I say turns into shit,  so I basically turn into one giant piece of shit. If I try to think of the good things during this sad shitty time, I wouldn’t be able to think of one thing that can equate, or even surpass the shittiness that I feel. (Drinking game: take a shot whenever i say shit)

Update: 12:09 am and i’m finally drinking my coffee! 

I think in my next post i’ll be making a good things list. A reminder for future shitty me that things are good. That I should be thankful for so many things that other people take for granted, because people suck. Like for example rn, i’m thankful that I have coffee breath and that my room smells like coffee because I love coffee, and John Mayer is playing and i’m able to write this post. Things will never be as bad as you think as long as you still have the good things. 

So thank you, for being my support system. For being there when I need you. Know that i’m thinking about you like always. This is for you. The best thing. 

If you didn’t already know, a zombie is a walking cadaver, driven solely by hunger for human flesh. It’s an interesting place to be in, teasing the fine line between life and death. Sure, on the outside they’re all rotting flesh. But they are still a living mechanism right? They can walk, sense, respond to their surroundings, and even seem to desire something. It makes you wonder though, are zombies really dead?

I suppose it’s best to first consider what it takes to be alive. What makes us different from a pile of bricks is that we are aware that we exist. As of right now, I am aware that I am typing on a keyboard, feeling the chill of the evening breeze, contributing to the internet a stream of thoughts that no one will read (which is fine by me). Suppose this would be the sole criteria that determines whether something is living, then I suppose zombies won’t make the cut. They aren’t aware of their existence... right? 

But to have desire presupposes that you have consciousness, meaning you have the capacity to have experiences. When we want something, what we are really after is the experience. When I consciously feel hunger, I desire the experience of eating food, swallowing it, and feel satiated. So if we consider zombies, they relentlessly follow their basic instinct to eat, which can be considered as a manifestation of desire. They desire to feast on our corpses, so can it not be said that they at least have a certain level of consciousness? 

But enough getting all philosophical. Ladies and gentlemen, we now have a dilemma. Congratulations! 

All the zombie fiction these days point out that zombies are not aware of their existence. If they were, then they’d be pondering on the meaning of life, just like the rest of us, instead of lumbering around threatening Rick and the crew. That being the case, we are often led see zombies as “dead”.

But what if I propose that zombies are actually “living”?

Just because something isn’t aware of its own existence doesn’t mean that they can’t count as alive. The way I see it, zombies are very much like leeches. Leeches have no brains. The only thing they care about is sucking the bad blood out of you. You would agree with me however that leeches are alive. Zombies are no different. They have no brains. All they want are your brains. 

Also, zombies like to reproduce. If you needed more proof that zombies are alive, think back to elementary school. I’m sure your science teacher told you that a vital characteristic of living things is the ability to make babies. Well... zombies don’t really do the nasty hence the zombie shows don’t usually get rated as R18. But they bite and next to you know, you’ve got another zombie. I suppose zombie sperm flows in the saliva. Potent stuff...

What does all this mean? I’m not exactly starting a rally pushing for zombie rights. The way I see it, zombies are actually more like you and me, despite how it all seems. So be nice... Next time you see zombie, remember that they’re not all dead. There’s something living there. Help a brother out and let them have a bite.