Hands steady so the lines in the mental illustration is straight

In astrophysics, dark matter is matter that does not emit or reflect enough electromagnetic radiation to be detected directly, but whose presence may be inferred from its gravitational effects on visible matter. Among the observed phenomena consistent with the existence of dark matter are the rotational speeds of galaxies and orbital velocities of galaxies in clusters, gravitational lensing of background objects by galaxy clusters such as the Bullet cluster, and the temperature distribution of hot gas in galaxies and clusters of galaxies. Dark matter also plays a central role in structure formation and Big Bang nucleosynthesis, and has measurable effects on the anisotropy of the cosmic microwave background. All these lines of evidence suggest that galaxies, clusters of galaxies, and the universe as a whole contain far more matter than is directly observable, indicating that the remainder is dark. - From Wikipedia, the free Encyclopedia.

Apologies for taking the easy way out in terms of research. I would also like to add that a current U.C Berkeley Physics professor, George Smoot, was recently awarded a Nobel Prize for enumerating the evidence of dark energy, and thus data supporting the theory of the Big Bang through the gathering of cosmic microwave background noise.

No wonder it took me so long to notice how immense of a deal the album Black Star by Talib Kweli and Mos Def was. I had to wait on the data of cosmic background from Professor Smoot, cuz y'all know I can't accept just any album to be adopted into the anthem I call my life. OOOHHH y'all already know what it is! Aye!!!



This album represents not only one of the most prominent collaborations in rap history, but it also symbolizes the state of our conscious generation dealing with Hip-hop. It deals with rappers that aren't aware of the pioneers that paved the very ground they rap on, spit on, break on, jive on, battle on, hustle on, and now sleep on while they allow their own surroundings to daze them with quick cash and quick ass attained by spittin' an already extinguished fire over a beat robbed from a grave. Mos Def and Talib complement the Hi-Tek ghetto metronome with an unrelenting reflection of the world through the eyes of a "hue-man" and sculpted by a tongue that wrassles with a language that consciously chose to leave behind a certain dark-skinned actor in the play of history, "stressin over time [as] you follow the Roman calendar."

I'm just saying. Nas said, "this rap shit's real. Bitch."

Look forward to my reviews for this fresh beef I call MYCSO, Music You Can't Sleep On.

(NIAPFO - Not In Any Particular Fuckin' Order)

Y'all NEED to hear this

It sucks that I decide whether I like a certain music right away. It can be a good thing or a bad thing, but I feel like I'm missin out on a lot of good music. Anyways, y'all need to hear this album. I think its frequency is a combination of the extra low that only elephants can hear and infrared, I think it's called the frequency of the soul. Yessur, this shit resonates my world.

I apologize

Sorry for the stupid last post. It's stupid for two reasons:

1. It was an attempt to portray an inexistent factor of cool by posting mildly esoteric pictures that aren't even mine.
   
2. It was a lazy excuse for a blog entry that was supposed to evoke an accurate image of what is going on in my head at that moment.
   

So sorry. I'm hella stupid.

Anyways, I just wanna express my hate for this one bitch real quick. This Monday, there was this bitch walking my direction talking to another person (his/her bitch-ness has not been determined as of yet) saying that "This Friday is not a holiday. I would know. I WOULD KNOW!" Followed with an annoying ass laugh. I was tempted to believe her since her strong body language coupled with a deep, commanding voice that echoed against the walls of LeConte was more than enough evidence to make me believe that there was, indeed, classes on Friday.

Fuck that shit. I was supposed to start celebrating Tuesday. DAMMIT

I got grapes

I NEED to get my ass in gear.

Maybe later. Imma look at some pitttures firss

Here's your chance

I am extremely vulnerable right now. So if you want to get your last shots in, please do so now, because that window of opportunity is moving fast. Whoever's in is coming for the ride. After this, Steven Seagal is taking over and then he's just going to snap your neck.


Ok he's not Steven Seagal, but he's korean, so he'll still snap your neck. Or detonate nuclear weapons. OOOwwwww, what? Too soon? Ok.

Sedimentary Layer

I would like to leave an imprint of my memory onto the internet. Just in case in the future, they can discover it when they dig it up.

The sun is pretty bright and warm this morning. I'm getting awfully lazy with my pushups, but at least the barbells are fun. I had a dream last night that I withdrew from my one position in a student group. I should get to that already. I'm starting to appreciate non-honey nut cheerios. Maybe it's just because I like milk so much, it doesn't matter. I'm older than one of my co-workers. She's graduating this year. I really like my carpet.

An encyclopedia entry would look like this:

Jarrett Bato
He liked non-honey nut cheerios

I'd be happy.

I bring tales of my journey...

I feel the quickest way to have one of those "We need to catch up," conversations is to use all you have available in your powers of expression to tell a story. Whenever I talk I try to include as much pelvis thrusting, eye-widening, ecstatic screaming, and excessive hand-gestures to express what I need to express to another person at some point in time. In the internet it's much harder. All's I got is clever combinations of words, imaginative analogies, and maybe I'll throw in some alliterations once in a while. Or do I? PSYCH.

Well, let's get started shall we? I last updated before my only class ended in the summer, so I'll start there. Cheerio. God save the queen.


Phew. That was a mouthful.

Yellow Bus

In case I forget. Cuz I go dumb more than twice a day now.

A certain Jomarrion inspired me to add some nuts to my blog today. (Which nuts? DEEZ) I'm hella stupid. I was so hungry coming back home today, so I whipped open the crisper drawer in the refrigerator to take out some chicken BREAST and it kinda stank. But I was really hungry so I dashed on some olive oil, chopped some garlic n' scallions and tossed that shit in thurr. I stared at the chicken more, and I was like I should consult Mr. Google for this one. So I wrote "expire chicken breast." After I wrote that on the search bar, I decided that this combination of words is pretty hilarious. Expire chicken breast. JEEZ. So I just went for it like the waterboy and cooked it. I even added a dash of pico de gallo. BBQ sawce, tapatio, salad, toast, hummus. It's ova.

Drive-by

What am I doing.

“Jarrett, meet the new guy, Jerry. He’ll be working your shift temporarily.”

“Hey, what’s up, I’m Jerry. I look forward to working with you.”

“Are you serious? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, (laughter) don’t worry Jarrett, it’s not like that. We just felt like trying some new strategies, so we’re shifting things around a little. We do intend this to be temporary. Think of it like a trial period. If things go well, the changes in infrastructure should be changed accordingly.”

“So what am I supposed to do until you make the changes permanent?”

“Take a break. Chill out. Don’t worry about anything. We do value your input concerning the changes we’re making, so feel free to comment. But meanwhile, just take it easy for a couple days (weeks, months, years…). We’ll be sure to keep you updated.”

“Can I keep the plant?”

“Sure, take the plant. Shit, take my stapler. It’s yours.”

“Can I come by to say hi once in a while?”

“Of course! Tell you what, I’ll even treat you to anything you want from the vending machine. How ‘bout that?”

“Alright. I like Sour Patch Kids. ‘Cuz they’re sour, then they’re sweet.”

“Whatever you want, Jarrett.”

DUMB

Me having a blog must be the worst idea in the world. I’m polluting the Internet. Haha, I’m like Rick James walking in Charlie and fuck I totally forgot his brother’s name Murphy’s house and draggin’ in dirt and shit and stompin’ on they couch.

“They neva should’ve gave you niggas money!”

HAHAH, jeez I’m an idiot.

Please refer to chart 3.1

I now work at the Tolman Education/Psychology library in Berkeley, so when I'm shelving, I get an idea of what books the faculty in psychology like to borrow. There's one book, it's kept behind the circulation desk, called the DSM and apparently it's the book of standards for psychologists. It outlines what they have agreed upon in various topics in psychology.

DSM-III diagnostic criteria for schizotypal personality disorder

At least four of the following:

1. Magical thinking, e.g. superstitiousness, clairvoyance, telepathy, 'sixth sense', 'others can feel my feelings' (in children and adolescents, bizzare fantasies or preoccupations);
2. Ideas of reference;
3. Social isolation, e.g. no close friends or confidants, social contacts limited to essential everyday tasks;
4. Recurrent illusions, sensing the presence of a force or person not actually present (e.g. 'I felt as if my dead mother were in the room with me'), depersonaization or derealization not associated with panic attacks;
5. Odd speech (without loosening of associations or incoherence), e.g. speech that is digressive, vague, over-elaborate, circumstantial, metaphorical;
6. Inadequate rapport in face-to-face interaction due to constricted or inappropriate affect, e.g. aloof, cold;
7. Suspiciousness or paranoid ideation;
8. Undue social anxiety or hypersensitivity ro real or imagined criticism.

Word? I have like 3 of thems. What does that make me? I always do things half-assed.

Yadadimean

I’m not myself sometimes. Actions that are done don’t mean I agree with them. I don’t agree with my some parts of my past. And I don’t know where I’m going. So there’s only now, and what I do with it. Mmmm. Orange Adidas’ is what I did.

Since engineering is the science that unites the theory with the real, I’ll figure out something to do with artificial intelligence. Maybe I’ll make an instrument anybody can play. It will read your body motions, face contortions, and tone of voice to decide what kind of tune to play, based on the songs you already have on your head, or maybe the ones already on your computer. I’ll also make a program on your word processor that actually processes your words. You know, like sometimes I just want to say ;;alksdj f;laskjdf ass;alkd jfa;eio ircm snmn but I want it to mean something and make sense to someone else, too. So it will take that and based on what mood your in, determined by such measurements such as sweat on your fingertips, the kind of music you’re playing, your body position in your chair, and the dilation of your pupils, to make something out of those jumble of words. Maybe a clever analogy, or historical anecdote. Then you can actually associate those feelings with the words you read, thus expanding vocabulary and maybe even inadvertently inventing slang. And even though all the slang you invented is different from someone else, if they are entered on a computer, like an AIM chat for example, the emotions would be transmitted by association, since the computer can do that with its AI. Dope. Everybody would be an artist, and everybody would be listening to the music they want to hear. Then musicians will be even more pro, augmenting their musical instruments they already have with AI associative-ness and then have their natural talent to play to make even more creative music. DOPE. I really do believe engineering provides artists with tools of the trade, while pure scientists and mathematicians provide engineers with inspiration. And then the humanities provide errbody with a second opinion. MMMMM

Let’s see how I feel about this tomorrow. Jeez, I must have been trippin’ on acid.

Clean-up on Aisle 4

I wish I could write right now. I can’t seem to express myself.

Here’s a stray thought. Being strapped down tight with your mouth taped up probably wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t want to krump, spit, or shake ‘dem dreads so much. Or maybe that’s just me.


I tend to think laterally a lot nowadays. Maybe I should stop admiring the coral reefers and come up to the surface to breathe. This blinking cursor is getting on my nurvesss.

Here’s another stray thought. I must be at a thought kennel. ZING. Anyways, I also have the recent urge to fight someone. It’s a pretty strong urge. But not to worry, I haven’t gone all Juggernaut (bless his helmet he got in 4th grade) on anybody’s ass. Well, in a nutshell, I have the urge to start a club where you fight. A fight club. And I’ll start it one night out in a street where I’ll have a heated argument with myself and then start beating the crap out of myself.

It’s a great idea. In fact, it’d make a great cult movie.

So there, some muffled mumbles from under the gag around my mouf.

Brain burp

I just remembered. More than one time in elementary school, I called my teacher “Mommy.” It was weird. I remember stopping and just thinking, “Jeez, why’d I do that?”

And then my teacher would laugh.

Kick it up a notch

YUM.

Today tastes good. Like the crunchy, quenching taste of cucumber slices. Like super-whipped cream cheese on a toasted half of a garlic bagel. Like a bottle of Jarritos. What color, you ask? Maybe green.

YUM.

Ba-dum...

I have a dilemma. I want to express how I feel into words and sentences. But sometimes it doesn’t quite come together. But hey, I had two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches + milk, and I feel like I can do anything.

So here it is. I feel like jivin’. I feel like grindin’. I feel like groovin’. I feel like shakin’. I feel like bakin’. I feel like struttin’. I feel like two-steppin’. I feel like thizzin’. I feel like krumpin’. I feel like breakin’. I feel like ollie-in’. I feel like ravin’. I feel like ragin’. I feel like poppin’. I feel like lockin’. I feel like goin’ dumb, puttin’ it down for the hella fly god of Hip-Hop.

The beat starts with the heart. So eat your cheerios, its good for you.

Knowin' nothin' in life but to be legit

It seems I like to write when I’m in this kind of mood. The jaded mood. So basically this blog will forever emit my kryptonite-infused thoughts in the wild world of the internet. Like a stinky star I made when rolling up trash in that one game, Katamari Damacy. It’ll be in the sky forever.

I’ll move on someday. Soon hopefully.

“I’ve never been in a fight before, now my mind’s at war” – Jiminy Cricket, The Procussions

"On Intelligence" by Jeff Hawkins

Do I need to remind myself of my intentions? My reasons? My justifications?

I’m reading a book that theorizes that the neocortex of our brain works on a unified algorithm to interpret what’s coming through our senses. By “interpret” I mean to call up memories that are attached to that stimulus to find the best plan of action. This plan of action doesn’t even have to involve action. That is what the author calls intelligence. Building enough memory to associate infinitely and creatively, and come up with “solutions.” He believes that computer science isn’t capable of that kind of intelligence. He proposes another plan in his book. I’m not there yet.

What is funny is how he mentions that there is not that much research going on about trying to figure out intelligence. What comes out in this field is as widespread and crazy as trying to figure out the solar system back in the day.

I feel like the block towards finding the answer is internal. People wanted to believe the Earth was the center of the universe. And now people want to believe that what goes on in our minds is magical, or at least special. The drama, our emotions, our unique thought processes, our habits, our cravings… our lives in general.

It will probably suck a lot to have that all reduced to a science. Or not. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Yearsh

I just remembered this time I was on the bus, and someone left his wallet as he was leaving. He was sitting next to a bum, and he just took it, opened it, looked inside, then put it in his pocket.

And I just sat there. I sat there. End of story.

Jeez.

Corona commercial

I want a stoop right now. I wish my neighborhood was a little more ghetto, so I can sit out on my stoop on my porch swing. I'll have a beater on, sum stunners, a shotgun, my plaid shorts on, and sum tsinelas with socks on. Oh, and I'll have a bucket of coronas chillin' on ice.

But I won't drink any. As long as they're there for my visual comfort. Limes, too, to add a lil' green to my scenery.

I'll just be waiting for my mail so I can finger through the new victoria's secret catalog. yeaaaa...

I'm scared of heights!

Vertigo.

What an accurate title for a movie that is about a guy with acrophobia and suffers from vertigo. But it’s doubly insidious that whoever thought up this movie (Alfred Hitchcock was the director, but it said in the beginning of the movie that it was inspired by some French book) named the movie Vertigo because of the effect it gives the viewer.

So powerful. I’m experiencing vertigo right now.

I will get back to the artistic value of this movie. How it was shot, and the very concept, etc. But I really want to address how it portrays how people of that era deal with psychological stress. 1954 was it?

I’m guessing they couldn’t deal with it. The paranoia I mean. They would just diagnose themselves as “mad” and be done with it. I’m guessing we all experience paranoia in our lives, but I feel it all really depends on how everyone else deals with it, too. That’s why I regard this as a result of the era, because it really depends on how everyone else thinks about a certain “thing.” So I guess here I’m talking about psychological stress and how people deal with it. In Scottie’s era, people look down upon it. When he asks the lady who ended up buying Madeleine’s car where she bought it and thereby mentions how Madeleine kills herself, the era of the movie names it “unfortunate.” That means I guess that being paranoid to the point of killing oneself makes it unfortunate. That is the era Scottie lives in. I guess we all still live in it as well. It’s not “good” to commit suicide because of a mental condition.

So people back in the day couldn’t deal with it. Some people today still can’t deal with it, and yes, sometimes suicide to them is the answer. In Gnarls Barkley’s new CD, “St. Elsewhere,” C-Lo says, “And I’ve tried, everything but suicide, but it’s crossed my mind, just a thought.” Maybe that’s how we’ve dealt with it since 1954 or whatever. We just recognize that it’s just a thought. But it’s not to think Scottie didn’t discover that as well. When he was trying to help Madeleine, he tells her it’s just thoughts, and whatever’s real, whatever’s happening right now is what really matters. Except Hitchcock shows how impetuous the mind can be with the portrayal of Scottie’s mental state after he sees the staged “suicide.” We change our minds so fast and so impulsively that we forget what we have just figured out about our present situation, our state of being, our lives. Sometimes we can’t deal with our own forgetfulness. Vertigo.

Hitchcock covered all the bases. He showed schizophrenia by Scottie’s multiple aliases. He showed depression with Scottie’s silence. He showed his era’s inability to deal with people’s psychological problems with the scene at the hospital. The doctor looked like an idiot. And paranoia was all over the film. Part of the genius is how paranoid the viewers were because of the movie. Good movies hit a strong chord in people in that way I guess.

I should’ve known the sneakiness of the plan. Any normal person would’ve totally known someone was tailing them. Scottie was the opposite of sneaky.

So this is the era we are trying to get out of. Our own self-awareness haunts us. And we have been dealing with it forever. Movies like this are a bookmark I guess, to show the future where we were at, to make sure we don’t fall far. So does that mean a society that produces much “bookmarks” (movies, art, books, etc.) is enlightened? I was actually glad to hear this phrase from the album "Emergency Rations" from a rapper called Mr. Lif, “I think he was onto something…” I guess that’s the phrase of this phase of my life, “I think I’m onto something.”

I should address the topic of love, and how the movie portrayed it. It was good. Real, kinda like how Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind portrayed it. I’ll get back to this.

How come movies as thought-provoking as this involve love? Is it the one thing we haven’t figured out?

I take that back. I, Robot was thought provoking. Back at square one…

Having a brain is so frustrating sometimes.

Zoom

I wish I had a propellor plane right now. I'd fly it away, look for some crop circles, shoot the sides of some barns. Oh yea, I'd have some guns on the plane too.

It's so hot.

It's complex

I read something about the God Complex. It’s apparently in our head, the part that experiences emotions.

I can understand how scared the author could be when he was writing about this. But understandably so. Although, for the purposes he set out, I guess it makes sense to put this topic into the book. The book is rooted in research. And research says that we have a God Complex in our heads. When we have out-of-body experiences, a region in your brain is stimulated, apparently the same place would also be stimulated when a sufferer of epilepsy would be in seizure or something. Specifically, the part of the brain that controls emotions is stimulated. That’s why God is felt, not known.

But isn’t it weird? We’re talking about out-of-body experiences here, and SCIENCE. Usually those things are separate. You have to be in a different state of mind to talk about one thing and talk about the latter. Or do you? Do we really have to distinctly separate those two things?

I mean I could pretend for a minute that I did have an out-of-body experience. (Maybe I really have… wouldn’t you like to know?) I could really just go all out with the mysticism. It would be really easy. I could get swept by things like crop circles, abductions, the higher power, universal unification, dream catchers, four-leaf clovers, Bigfoot, optical illusions, tie-died shirts, salvation, philosophy, death, vampires, the sixth sense, ESP, cults, Harry Potter, and alternate dimensions.

But I don’t. Usually I say that I have too much sense for that. Recently, I asked “Do you really?” I’m at a very impressionable place in life right now. I think I could believe anything. Yesterday I was almost completely fooled by this Fundamentalist (or something) cartoon talking about evolution. It is seriously crazy, check it out. The guy’s name is Chick.

I’m just saying. I could go either way these days. Science, bah. It’s all about them preachers in the street, mang.

Helping myself to a serving of whoopass.

I bought a self-help book today. It was in the self-help section of Waldenbooks. Therefore, it is a self-help book. Even though it doesn't have a title like "Anxiety and Depression: How to deal with it." It's title is "An owner's manual to the Brain." It claims to be rooted in research, so it's not really all that mushy as "Chicken Soup for the Soul." But it doesn't hide the fact that's it's a self-help book.

I'll wonder why there's a stigma against self-help, why there's a fear of being called crazy, why I shuddered at the thought of carrying out a book on Depression, and yet carried out this book that is supposedly "rooted in research" LATER.

It must be the era we're all in. I'll stick with that answer until I can come up with a better one.

I want an invisibility cloak

Our deepest and most desperate desires.

It’s pretty cool reading Harry Potter at this time of my life. I like to overanalyze things, to the point of ridiculous. So Dumbledore has this mirror in one of the rooms in Hogwarts, that reflects upon the user his or her most deepest and desperate desires. Not only are they deep and secret, but they’re desperate. It gives a whole new meaning to the word desire. It is now a desire worth fighting for. Worth paying large sums of money for. Worth giving up your last French fry for. Worth letting someone else bowl your last frame. Maybe a desire worth dying for as well. Maybe that’s why Harry and Ron were so surprised and entranced at what they saw in the mirror. They even fought a little to get some time in front of the Mirror of Erised. Desire spelled backwards. Clever.

Wonder what I would see if I were to place myself in front of that mirror? Seriously. What would be my most desperate desire? Something material? Some sort of status? Another person, perhaps? And why would our most desperate desires also be deep? What in particular are we so ashamed of in our most desperate desires? Maybe the common characteristic of our desperate desires is that they all are all too human. And according to Gnarls Barkley, “Everybody is somebody, but nobody wants to be themselves.”

I’m embarrassed of myself. I messed up cutting my own hair today. I don’t know if I would like to see my own desperate desire. Even if only I get to see it.

Dumbledore is a wise man. Earlier in the book he said, “Ah, Music. A magic beyond all of what we do here.” And in reference to the mirror he said, “It does not do to dwell in dreams and forget to live, remember that.”

Copy that, Double D. (Or maybe Wise Owl would be a more appropriate code name?)

Mic check. I...2...

Hello. My name is Jarrett Bato.

I'd like to introduce myself to myself. I'm halfway (?) done with college and I feel like I need to do something different with my life. I changed a lot this year. And what have I done about it thus far?

I watched Kung Fu Hustle, Eternal Sunshine, Aeon Flux, Sex, Lies, and Videotape, and a bunch of other "insightful" movies. I read Intimacy, by Kureishi and am currently marinating salmon with maple syrup and soy sauce.

I'll change my life later.