Penny Hero (dot) Net

Ok…. I’m beginning to think someone is trying to tell me or my family something… I know this doesn’t have anything to do with me… and it’s not saying “you’re next!” or anything but… still. it’s more than creepy.

My apartment was broken into just a week before it happened… (dirty dirty man) She goes to school with my cousin. She’s (apparently) exactly my height and weight. Without knowing what happened, I went apartment-hunting at that complex right after it happened. And now, just 3 hours ago, this article was released saying they arrested “someone of interest” who had previously been busted for burglery at OSU and at George Fox College… in Newberg.

In Newberg.

I don’t like this world, and how small it has become… small, but still… all the people in it are essentially powerless… it’s sick.

God, I hope she’s found safe.

My heart and all kinds of other fears and hopes go out to her, and her family… I don’t know what else to say. It’s just so overwhelming.

Everything… even just for being said only once, sounds cliche. Me and the words and world I’m seeing right now just scrape and chafe. Nothing fits into the little boxes you learn about in school. The planet isn’t folding itself up into what you read about in books.

But it’s like it never did. It never was. And all the things we know about the world are just what we prescribed for it. We thought we saw something, and it reminded us of some latin-derived idea… so we call the thing a name, and pretend like we discovered something new. When really, all we did was name it, and then drag it into our world… and we act like that’s normal. Like it’s natural. Like, us dragging shit into our world is ok.

It’s not. I feel like everything I know is meaningless. All our gestures, all our work… it’s just ones and zeros. It’s just a system of dots with no inherent meaning. No inherent anything. There’s no sense in anything we do. It’s all filtered through our senses, and translated into Something. When, it was fine just where it was before. The whole world. The manufacturing of sweet-tarts. Easter. Atkins. Mp3s. Angst. None of it has a point. There’s only this road, or this god that we dangle in front of ourselves so that we can forget that there are no goals ever.

There’s only this game we’ve been choosing to play. This game that people win and lose at all the time. This game where the rules are written by whoever has the most force, or whoever has the biggest number in some computer database. People waste their whole lives getting absorbed in this game. Because none of us have created anything else to be yet… None of us can conceive of any other way to exist.

It just feels so empty.