(Avid readers, I promise a real post about my real life is coming soon.)
Apparently, blog-hating is in vogue.
After a long and uncomfortable calme d'inquietude (archaic French, don't bother looking it up, try to infer) with a certain former friend of mine, it's come to my attention that she's been talking about me by name in her MySpace blog. For easy reference, the "gay pothead" she's referring to isn't me. Of those two things, I am only one, and I think the conclusion's fairly easy to draw.
But, aside from a few glaring capitalization and grammatical errors, she's got some of the facts a little off. Not that's she's wrong: all of those things are true, or at the very least, could be. What disturbs me is the horrible number of omissions she's made.
So, in the interest of furthering the fine art of blog-hating, my little dugong (here, in case anyone needs to look that up), here are some pointers.
Firstly: I do admire your adherence to the truth in the first few bits of your assault on me: I do know everything. And I damn well certainly think I do, as well. But honey, you couldn't be further from the truth when you say it doesn't matter what you say to me. It definitely does matter: without you, I wouldn't have anything to serve as the subject of minimal contemplation and more substantial amounts of chuckling before I go to bed some nights. So the assertion that what you say doesn't matter is completely unfounded. The same joys you provide me are the same joys you provide to many others.
Secondly: Here's where we start to run into some problems. Where you say that people talking crap about me always come and tell me. Yes, by my own admission, that happens most of the time. But if it doesn't, I have a lovely surprise for you: I don't care. I invite you to scroll down a bit and read the rest of this blog, here, and try to wrap your sirenian brain (see wikipedia link above) around the endless piss and vinegar I self-deprecatingly spew out about myself on a daily basis. Though your tone lends a bit of sarcasm to the sentence in question, your diatribe largely ignores the fact that there are few, if any, things that anyone could say about me that are worse than the things I say about myself.
To go off on those, for a minute: You totally forgot to mention that I only have a sense of direction when I don't have any other viable life choices left. And, come on? The fact that I tend to trust everything and everyone except my own emotions, often to my detriment? I totally left that one open for you and you missed it. Let's not forget the past run-ins I've had with alcohol and substance abuse, the heartbreaks I've caused and suffered, and how the guilt I associate with them is often deeply rooted in a sense of personal inadequacy. Throughout the course of our friendship, I gave you gold. I feel just in demanding a little courtesy on your part- please use my contributions to the best of your ability.
Lastly, I wholeheartedly embrace your suggestion to believe what I want! Seriously, that's wonderful. I like being encouraged to pursue my own thoughts and ideas. Comments like that help me reaffirm my faith in my own belief system. Sometimes, it's just the little things in life that make the biggest differences. Just like Twinkies, yeah?
My final problem, though, leaps into the spotlight when you tell me to get real. You seem to have misapplied the best of the resources available to you; including but not limited to years' worth of memories, intimate conversations, and a crippled-yet-still-extant ability to self-actualize and see traces of that in others. To break it down:
I am neurotic. I am insecure. I have low-self esteem. I am the king of Too Much Information. I think I know it all, and when I say I do, I mean it. I am stubborn. I make mistakes, and stick by them until the very last possible minute. I have been known to say nasty things about people, and I take responsibility for those things. I have faith, (occasionally too much, as evidenced by the travails of attempting to reason with you), that those with whom I surround myself do the same.
Like before, your attempts to hurt my feelings or make me doubt my friends (and myself) have failed. I hope, in the future, you can take some of the pointers here and write something truly incisive, something that does draw as much blood as I think you were hoping for.
I am grossly offended, though, by the suggestion that I am not, in fact, real. Though I doubt my own existence from time to time, there is nothing fictitious about how I am in touch with my own feelings, how I ultimately respect the people I care about, or how I live my life. One's internal view of all those things is all that really matters in life, aside from looking outside of oneself to find new ways to learn and love. As such, your suggestion to get real is one of the flimsiest things you've ever said to me- I'm as real as they get. I hope that one day, discounting an untimely encounter between your back and a speedboat, you will eventually be able to say the same about yourself.
(DB) out.
Author's note: No dugongs, or surprisingly enough, bottles of wine, were harmed in the writing of this entry.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Monday, July 17, 2006
i'm an IM away from quoting sarah mclachlan in my title
Today was hot.
I worked, I napped, I went to school. That was about it.
Right now I'm sitting on the porch, of course, not really doing anything. I'm deciding when this moth / june beetle is eventually going to end up in my hair.
Oop, there it goes. Granted, five minutes passed between me typing the previous sentence and typing this one, but yeah. It was only a matter of time.
DC Boy is already screwing with my head without knowing he's doing it. When we talk online, and we're not talking about something he brought up, he feels every bit of those 47 miles away.
Attractive, emotionally distant, but able to captivate my curiosity enough to keep me guessing? Sound familiar, anyone?
I want to cancel the date, just so I can disappoint him before he gets the chance to do it to me. That's not what good people do, but if that what it takes to protect myself, then that's what I'll have to do.
I want to shove a coat hanger up my noise, and pull out the part of my brain responsible for processing emotions. Then, I'd be a real man.
(DB) out.
I worked, I napped, I went to school. That was about it.
Right now I'm sitting on the porch, of course, not really doing anything. I'm deciding when this moth / june beetle is eventually going to end up in my hair.
Oop, there it goes. Granted, five minutes passed between me typing the previous sentence and typing this one, but yeah. It was only a matter of time.
DC Boy is already screwing with my head without knowing he's doing it. When we talk online, and we're not talking about something he brought up, he feels every bit of those 47 miles away.
Attractive, emotionally distant, but able to captivate my curiosity enough to keep me guessing? Sound familiar, anyone?
I want to cancel the date, just so I can disappoint him before he gets the chance to do it to me. That's not what good people do, but if that what it takes to protect myself, then that's what I'll have to do.
I want to shove a coat hanger up my noise, and pull out the part of my brain responsible for processing emotions. Then, I'd be a real man.
(DB) out.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
new strings
...Is the title of a country song that, surprisingly, I like.
I worked today. I picked up a pizza. I helped my mom set up her iPod shuffle, because she's going into surgery on Monday and wants music to listen to.
Come to think of it, I worked all day.
And you know, I really don't have anything worth saying, other than the standard, "I only feel like a legitimate life form in the biological sense, and barely even then."
I fucking don't exist, seriously.
Alors, je suis aller un date avec ce garçon, l'un qui habite en DC. Et ce soir, il me dit, "J'ai un date avec ce homme bisexuel, ainsi je sors avec ma copine, et il pourrait y avoir un peu de competition."
Je suis comme, "Quoi?" Aprés un moment, il dit, "Ne t'en fait pas, j'anticipe nos date :-) "
Je suis comme, "Quoi?"
Ce n'est pas quelque chose on dit à quelqu'un qu'on aime. That's' somewhat amusing, attempting to measure keystorkes per minute. Actually, I could probably amuse myself for quite some time looking at the keyboard viewer, doing this.
Despite my quasi-bastardized attempts at French, I was taken aback. Do people really say that to other people? If you were talking to someone, and you and that person were eventually planning to go on a date, would you mention that you have a date with some bisexual guy who's leaving for Venezuela in a few days, and that you're taking a female friend with you?
He said not to think anything of it, and that he was still really looking forward to our date, which is in a week, now.
I am so bored. And feeling insecure.
I worked today. I picked up a pizza. I helped my mom set up her iPod shuffle, because she's going into surgery on Monday and wants music to listen to.
Come to think of it, I worked all day.
And you know, I really don't have anything worth saying, other than the standard, "I only feel like a legitimate life form in the biological sense, and barely even then."
I fucking don't exist, seriously.
Alors, je suis aller un date avec ce garçon, l'un qui habite en DC. Et ce soir, il me dit, "J'ai un date avec ce homme bisexuel, ainsi je sors avec ma copine, et il pourrait y avoir un peu de competition."
Je suis comme, "Quoi?" Aprés un moment, il dit, "Ne t'en fait pas, j'anticipe nos date :-) "
Je suis comme, "Quoi?"
Ce n'est pas quelque chose on dit à quelqu'un qu'on aime. That's' somewhat amusing, attempting to measure keystorkes per minute. Actually, I could probably amuse myself for quite some time looking at the keyboard viewer, doing this.
Despite my quasi-bastardized attempts at French, I was taken aback. Do people really say that to other people? If you were talking to someone, and you and that person were eventually planning to go on a date, would you mention that you have a date with some bisexual guy who's leaving for Venezuela in a few days, and that you're taking a female friend with you?
He said not to think anything of it, and that he was still really looking forward to our date, which is in a week, now.
I am so bored. And feeling insecure.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
commercial theme songs
I don't know why, but the Lamisil commercial music is stuck in my damn head. I don't have foot fungus, but I'd definitely check them out if I did. Maybe because I watch TV too ritualistically. I don't watch it often, but I catch ST:DS9 at the same time every day, so I see the exact same commercials.
I'll tell you, I'd call AIG just to have them laugh at me, then demand videos of Bill eating that live squid.
Not much has gone on. My life is completely dry. I might go to the beach in a couple weeks, but my parents are likely going to yell at me and proclaim that since I owe them so much money, I can't afford it. And, they're right. Doesn't mean I can't hope for a vacation though.
I don't know. These past couple days I've felt like the weather- sticky, monotonous, and occasionally overcast. Lately, my time's been spent in the same routine, doing the same things with the same people, under the same conditions. I accept that, because this routine is key to attaining success in the future. I don't like, though, how it's changing me as a person.
My biological clock is in sync with my schedule, which is weird enough. I'm not used to going to sleep without fearing that I won't wake up in time.
The problem is, I feel like a machine. Everything working like clockwork: input, process, output, feedback. Go to school, digest knowledge, apply it to homework and tests, then think about how I did. Go to work, do some specializing, get paid, then spend all my money, thus necessitating a return to work. Go out with friends, contemplate a very limited set of activities, pick one and do it, then go home thinking about how we used to have a lot more fun. All the while, I have limited amounts of time to eat, and no money, and no good food to choose from, so I just starve starve starve eat a lot starve starve, etc. So my body's not firing on all cylinders, which is obviously bad. My mind's not too happy about it, either, because we all know how self-conscious I am about my weight, even though I rarely do anything about it.
Random IM Quote: Face it, biotch. I have more gravity than you. When you walk, you're moving towards something. When I walk, things are really just falling in my direction.
Yes, this is how "real life" works. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Aside from Saturday nights, on which I know that I don't have work or school the next day (and even then, I probably have housework to do), I don't ever really relax. I've got the constant knowledge that the next step of the cycle is looming on the horizon, and after it all comes to fruition, it resets and has to be done all over again. After spending this summer getting used to it, I don't like it at all, but I don't see myself as having any choice, really.
It's hard to associate the fun, unpredictable past with the virtually nonexistent shot at a good future. That is, though, how the cookie crumbles.
It's been commented that I don't seem as alive as I once did. And, the person who said that is right. I don't feel as alive as I once did. And when questioned about it, I immediately churned out a response to the tune of, "blah blah, irresponsible behavior got me where I was, blah blah I'm working towards my future, blah blah I regret the choices I made and I'm grateful that I now have a chance to do something about them."
Honestly, though: I don't regret a damn thing. I loved feeling alive, I loved feeling like I really didn't answer to anyone, and I loved feeling that, no matter how much of a disadvantage I put myself at, the world really was my oyster, because I was free to choose where I wanted to be.
Of course I'm free to choose. But, if my only viable choice for enjoying the rest of my life requires giving up most of what I enjoy now, am I really living, and am I really free?
How I would love to have my cake and eat it, too.
(DB) out.
I'll tell you, I'd call AIG just to have them laugh at me, then demand videos of Bill eating that live squid.
Not much has gone on. My life is completely dry. I might go to the beach in a couple weeks, but my parents are likely going to yell at me and proclaim that since I owe them so much money, I can't afford it. And, they're right. Doesn't mean I can't hope for a vacation though.
I don't know. These past couple days I've felt like the weather- sticky, monotonous, and occasionally overcast. Lately, my time's been spent in the same routine, doing the same things with the same people, under the same conditions. I accept that, because this routine is key to attaining success in the future. I don't like, though, how it's changing me as a person.
My biological clock is in sync with my schedule, which is weird enough. I'm not used to going to sleep without fearing that I won't wake up in time.
The problem is, I feel like a machine. Everything working like clockwork: input, process, output, feedback. Go to school, digest knowledge, apply it to homework and tests, then think about how I did. Go to work, do some specializing, get paid, then spend all my money, thus necessitating a return to work. Go out with friends, contemplate a very limited set of activities, pick one and do it, then go home thinking about how we used to have a lot more fun. All the while, I have limited amounts of time to eat, and no money, and no good food to choose from, so I just starve starve starve eat a lot starve starve, etc. So my body's not firing on all cylinders, which is obviously bad. My mind's not too happy about it, either, because we all know how self-conscious I am about my weight, even though I rarely do anything about it.
Random IM Quote: Face it, biotch. I have more gravity than you. When you walk, you're moving towards something. When I walk, things are really just falling in my direction.
Yes, this is how "real life" works. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Aside from Saturday nights, on which I know that I don't have work or school the next day (and even then, I probably have housework to do), I don't ever really relax. I've got the constant knowledge that the next step of the cycle is looming on the horizon, and after it all comes to fruition, it resets and has to be done all over again. After spending this summer getting used to it, I don't like it at all, but I don't see myself as having any choice, really.
It's hard to associate the fun, unpredictable past with the virtually nonexistent shot at a good future. That is, though, how the cookie crumbles.
It's been commented that I don't seem as alive as I once did. And, the person who said that is right. I don't feel as alive as I once did. And when questioned about it, I immediately churned out a response to the tune of, "blah blah, irresponsible behavior got me where I was, blah blah I'm working towards my future, blah blah I regret the choices I made and I'm grateful that I now have a chance to do something about them."
Honestly, though: I don't regret a damn thing. I loved feeling alive, I loved feeling like I really didn't answer to anyone, and I loved feeling that, no matter how much of a disadvantage I put myself at, the world really was my oyster, because I was free to choose where I wanted to be.
Of course I'm free to choose. But, if my only viable choice for enjoying the rest of my life requires giving up most of what I enjoy now, am I really living, and am I really free?
How I would love to have my cake and eat it, too.
(DB) out.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
insert frustrated onomatopoeia here
Eleanor's in the shop again.
Whilst driving to Jin's to pick her up for school, it started making that "replace the damn serpentine belt, already" noise. The steering stiffened, the fans slowed. It was bad. I made it to her house, popped the hood, and found coolant everywhere. All over the entire engine compartment, leaking all over her driveway, the culmination of a solid line of fluid trailing from me the entire way down her street.
Thankfully, her mom took us to school, and was nice enough to assist me in dropping the car off at the shop. Seriously though, I'm quite upset, and all I want is for this just to be done with and working properly.
Math scares me. I hate algebra, and there's no reason anyone should ever have to do it. I'm sure arguments could be made that algebra has in some way made possible everything I know and love about life, but I don't care. It needs to be left to those who enjoy doing it.
Once again, I am uninspired. I can't tell if I'm hungry, tired, nauseous, or sleepy. The thought of doing practice problems for math makes me ill.
Maybe I'll go to bed or something.
(DB) out.
Whilst driving to Jin's to pick her up for school, it started making that "replace the damn serpentine belt, already" noise. The steering stiffened, the fans slowed. It was bad. I made it to her house, popped the hood, and found coolant everywhere. All over the entire engine compartment, leaking all over her driveway, the culmination of a solid line of fluid trailing from me the entire way down her street.
Thankfully, her mom took us to school, and was nice enough to assist me in dropping the car off at the shop. Seriously though, I'm quite upset, and all I want is for this just to be done with and working properly.
Math scares me. I hate algebra, and there's no reason anyone should ever have to do it. I'm sure arguments could be made that algebra has in some way made possible everything I know and love about life, but I don't care. It needs to be left to those who enjoy doing it.
Once again, I am uninspired. I can't tell if I'm hungry, tired, nauseous, or sleepy. The thought of doing practice problems for math makes me ill.
Maybe I'll go to bed or something.
(DB) out.
Monday, July 10, 2006
"they are nowhere in her thoughts as she dives beneath the waves"
Brief recap, for those paying attention to the fact that I didn't blog yesterday-
Sunday was an exercise in sin and vice. Mostly gluttony. (Dave and I each ate an entire medium pizza, and talked smack about men.) Did get to see Bell, which was nice, though the apartment felt empty sans Courtney. I remember when she and Bell, then me, Brad, Nicole, and whoever else practically lived there, all were one big dysfunctional family. It was great. Greener pastures, though, seem to have called all of us.
Today, I had a doctor's appointment (which was fairly pointless), my algebra class, and then hung out with Jinah and her mom, then her dad, brother, and friend Andy. We made chocolate/caramel fondue on a whim, and sat and ate it with fresh fruit, ruminating upon the fine points of life. Well, if you count talking about being overweight (probably from eating whole pizzas and fondue), lamenting classes, and our ever-so-cryptic personal identities "fine points." There were other important bits of discussion, but that's not my business to get into, so if you feel like knowing, ask Jin.
Tomorrow, I start up my philosophy class, in addition to the algebra class I started tonight. I'm not looking forward to algebra, so I'm hoping philosophy will be fun. Psych will be hard to beat, but anywhere in that league would be acceptable.
Anybody have comments of the feasibility of taking out student loans so I can better afford tuition, living expenses, and a MacBook Pro? Granted, the MBP probably costs more than the other two combined, but it's all important to me. ;-) (boo, I want a 2GHz PowerPC laptop, though. Oh well.)
This entry's title comes from a song by The Presets, called "Girl and the Sea." It was last week's iTunes freebie and I can't keep myself from listening to it at least once daily. For some reason, the imagery combined with the sound makes me happy.
All I've got lately are bits of no consequence, and other peoples' stories. If I ever have to look back on the part of my life preceding this one, and if I'm ever asked to justify it, I'd probably respond by saying, "at least I had a lot of stories." Stories are important to me. I guess being a writer (or something like it) will do that. Other peoples' stories are amusing- I couldn't pass one of Dave's off as my own to save my life- but I'm far more satisfied by writing my own, and they seem to be in short supply lately.
What does that mean to me? Why are stories so important anyway? I think they evoke a sense of longevity, even if I'm the only person who ever reads what I write down. Somewhere, somehow, somebody could read my writing, and remember it. I ultimately hope that one day, something I write will change someone's life, but that might be too much to hope for.
That's why they're called hopes, I guess.
I was thinking about roughing out a screenplay a few days ago, but I realized, I have no idea what it's about. This is when I should've been working on my paper, and should've been attending to some laundry, or something. My creativity peaks when I'm using it to distract myself from something more important I need to be doing. How else could I have rationalized warp drive in my head when I was about 9? Oh, because I watch too much Star Trek. But seriously though, theoretical physics (without math) are totally cool, and I'm totally smart, so shut up, poophead.
All these time-travel themed couple of days seem to have gotten to me.
You know? Check the gravy. I might write a story that is and isn't mine.
(DB) out.
Sunday was an exercise in sin and vice. Mostly gluttony. (Dave and I each ate an entire medium pizza, and talked smack about men.) Did get to see Bell, which was nice, though the apartment felt empty sans Courtney. I remember when she and Bell, then me, Brad, Nicole, and whoever else practically lived there, all were one big dysfunctional family. It was great. Greener pastures, though, seem to have called all of us.
Today, I had a doctor's appointment (which was fairly pointless), my algebra class, and then hung out with Jinah and her mom, then her dad, brother, and friend Andy. We made chocolate/caramel fondue on a whim, and sat and ate it with fresh fruit, ruminating upon the fine points of life. Well, if you count talking about being overweight (probably from eating whole pizzas and fondue), lamenting classes, and our ever-so-cryptic personal identities "fine points." There were other important bits of discussion, but that's not my business to get into, so if you feel like knowing, ask Jin.
Tomorrow, I start up my philosophy class, in addition to the algebra class I started tonight. I'm not looking forward to algebra, so I'm hoping philosophy will be fun. Psych will be hard to beat, but anywhere in that league would be acceptable.
Anybody have comments of the feasibility of taking out student loans so I can better afford tuition, living expenses, and a MacBook Pro? Granted, the MBP probably costs more than the other two combined, but it's all important to me. ;-) (boo, I want a 2GHz PowerPC laptop, though. Oh well.)
This entry's title comes from a song by The Presets, called "Girl and the Sea." It was last week's iTunes freebie and I can't keep myself from listening to it at least once daily. For some reason, the imagery combined with the sound makes me happy.
All I've got lately are bits of no consequence, and other peoples' stories. If I ever have to look back on the part of my life preceding this one, and if I'm ever asked to justify it, I'd probably respond by saying, "at least I had a lot of stories." Stories are important to me. I guess being a writer (or something like it) will do that. Other peoples' stories are amusing- I couldn't pass one of Dave's off as my own to save my life- but I'm far more satisfied by writing my own, and they seem to be in short supply lately.
What does that mean to me? Why are stories so important anyway? I think they evoke a sense of longevity, even if I'm the only person who ever reads what I write down. Somewhere, somehow, somebody could read my writing, and remember it. I ultimately hope that one day, something I write will change someone's life, but that might be too much to hope for.
That's why they're called hopes, I guess.
I was thinking about roughing out a screenplay a few days ago, but I realized, I have no idea what it's about. This is when I should've been working on my paper, and should've been attending to some laundry, or something. My creativity peaks when I'm using it to distract myself from something more important I need to be doing. How else could I have rationalized warp drive in my head when I was about 9? Oh, because I watch too much Star Trek. But seriously though, theoretical physics (without math) are totally cool, and I'm totally smart, so shut up, poophead.
All these time-travel themed couple of days seem to have gotten to me.
You know? Check the gravy. I might write a story that is and isn't mine.
(DB) out.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
time travel, II
Today blew.
Not really. Just the part before work. And then a little bit of the part after it, when I realized.. "Damn. Jinah is one of the only people in the world who knows my house phone number... I guess I have to wake up now." My nap was interrupted but I'm fairly sure that's better than sitting around the house with nothing to do.
We went to the Avenue, which isn't exactly on my hot list of destinations, but hell, we had nothing else to do. It really did feel like I was 15 again, though- some of Nackie's friends (Adam's friend, aka Justin, or Midget, for those who don't know) were a little less than mature, and.. well, embarrassing. It's been literally years since I've had someone come up to me, or my friends, and say "Are you guys patronizing any of the businesses? Loitering is not permitted, so I'll have to ask you to move along."
Matters were complicated further when Nackie (who is 17, but very seriously looks like he's 13) was carded. For walking after 9:30. Ridiculous. I haven't been a mallrat in so long, and it feels weird to be in that group that, when apart from it, I'd look at and think, "God, get a life."
We ended up settling in Chili's, grabbing a quite bite, then hanging out at Nackie's with a hundred different domestic animals and seemingly endless family members popping out of the woodwork. Okay, so maybe it was more like two big dogs, two cats, a screeching bird, and three family members other than his mom. Then I came home.
I feel like I could've done more interesting things on a Saturday where I'm done with work at 4:30, but I think I used it to the best of my ability. Or perhaps my whims. Or some combination thereof.
I don't know what I'm doing with myself tomorrow, probably a whole lot of nothing, or griping about doing a whole lot of nothing. Maybe I'll... oh hell. I'm not even going to pretend like I have an idea.
I want to write, I feel kinda like writing, but at the same time I kinda don't, and I also feel like I have nothing to write about. What I will say, though, is I'm entirely jealous of every Mac user out there whose computer can run Garageband, because mine can't and I really think I'd have fun venting creativity into it.
I dunno, maybe I'll write more later.
(DB) out.
Not really. Just the part before work. And then a little bit of the part after it, when I realized.. "Damn. Jinah is one of the only people in the world who knows my house phone number... I guess I have to wake up now." My nap was interrupted but I'm fairly sure that's better than sitting around the house with nothing to do.
We went to the Avenue, which isn't exactly on my hot list of destinations, but hell, we had nothing else to do. It really did feel like I was 15 again, though- some of Nackie's friends (Adam's friend, aka Justin, or Midget, for those who don't know) were a little less than mature, and.. well, embarrassing. It's been literally years since I've had someone come up to me, or my friends, and say "Are you guys patronizing any of the businesses? Loitering is not permitted, so I'll have to ask you to move along."
Matters were complicated further when Nackie (who is 17, but very seriously looks like he's 13) was carded. For walking after 9:30. Ridiculous. I haven't been a mallrat in so long, and it feels weird to be in that group that, when apart from it, I'd look at and think, "God, get a life."
We ended up settling in Chili's, grabbing a quite bite, then hanging out at Nackie's with a hundred different domestic animals and seemingly endless family members popping out of the woodwork. Okay, so maybe it was more like two big dogs, two cats, a screeching bird, and three family members other than his mom. Then I came home.
I feel like I could've done more interesting things on a Saturday where I'm done with work at 4:30, but I think I used it to the best of my ability. Or perhaps my whims. Or some combination thereof.
I don't know what I'm doing with myself tomorrow, probably a whole lot of nothing, or griping about doing a whole lot of nothing. Maybe I'll... oh hell. I'm not even going to pretend like I have an idea.
I want to write, I feel kinda like writing, but at the same time I kinda don't, and I also feel like I have nothing to write about. What I will say, though, is I'm entirely jealous of every Mac user out there whose computer can run Garageband, because mine can't and I really think I'd have fun venting creativity into it.
I dunno, maybe I'll write more later.
(DB) out.
Friday, July 07, 2006
time travel
I feel like I've traveled back in time.
$981 ago (or any time in the last nine months, depending on who's in the know), my beloved Eleanor had this little problem where she would overheat constantly, had a license plate light missing, and as a result, I couldn't run the AC or drive at night without fear of being pulled over. This time, fortunately, has passed.
It's chilly and smells like fall outside. My theme for this fall is "Don't fall in love with any alcoholic cokeheads." I miss the old falls, when we'd all be getting ready for the plays, and we'd all be planning our trips to Huber's for the hayride, and we'd all be planning Halloween parties and cast parties and terrorizing TGI Friday's and feeling cool about it because technically, it was a school function so provisional license restrictions didn't apply. Oh, and we all didn't hate each other. That was nice, too.
In a strange way, I miss Laurie, too. Despite the problems our relationship had, including her being a girl and me liking boys, I miss how much I loved her, and how much she loved me, and how generally, everything was alright. Aside from sexual orientation and having spats about whose friends hated each other, I look back through my rose-tinted glasses and see us as perfect. I think she's okay now, at least I hope so. When last I heard she was done with that one boyfriend of hers, who didn't particularly care for me at all, to the point of freaking out at her whenever he heard my voice through the phone when I was around... that'd be nice. I just emailed her, in hopes that I'll hear back and get a chance to catch up. That is, if she ever checks that email address anymore. I might've just attempted to contact a complete stranger. Or maybe she really hated me, and her boyfriend was just a front. I don't think that's the case, though.
I have an A in my Comps class, and I almost certainly have an A in my Psych class. That excites me. It feels like... ten years ago. That was the last time a report card had an A on it, other than the ones in my name. Now, I just have to keep the trend going.
I'm tired. I feel aimless. I kinda want to go to sleep, I kinda don't, I have no idea. I kinda want to grab something to eat but I feel like I'm not really hungry, and that I'm just bored. Although, I didn't really eat a proper dinner- a dollar menu cheeseburger, and a 5-piece chicken nugget thing several hours later... hmm. Maybe I do have license to be hungry, but given that I've eaten fast food today, I don't know where a meal would fit in my calorie budget.
NM- problem solved- Star Trek is on.
(DB) out.
$981 ago (or any time in the last nine months, depending on who's in the know), my beloved Eleanor had this little problem where she would overheat constantly, had a license plate light missing, and as a result, I couldn't run the AC or drive at night without fear of being pulled over. This time, fortunately, has passed.
It's chilly and smells like fall outside. My theme for this fall is "Don't fall in love with any alcoholic cokeheads." I miss the old falls, when we'd all be getting ready for the plays, and we'd all be planning our trips to Huber's for the hayride, and we'd all be planning Halloween parties and cast parties and terrorizing TGI Friday's and feeling cool about it because technically, it was a school function so provisional license restrictions didn't apply. Oh, and we all didn't hate each other. That was nice, too.
In a strange way, I miss Laurie, too. Despite the problems our relationship had, including her being a girl and me liking boys, I miss how much I loved her, and how much she loved me, and how generally, everything was alright. Aside from sexual orientation and having spats about whose friends hated each other, I look back through my rose-tinted glasses and see us as perfect. I think she's okay now, at least I hope so. When last I heard she was done with that one boyfriend of hers, who didn't particularly care for me at all, to the point of freaking out at her whenever he heard my voice through the phone when I was around... that'd be nice. I just emailed her, in hopes that I'll hear back and get a chance to catch up. That is, if she ever checks that email address anymore. I might've just attempted to contact a complete stranger. Or maybe she really hated me, and her boyfriend was just a front. I don't think that's the case, though.
I have an A in my Comps class, and I almost certainly have an A in my Psych class. That excites me. It feels like... ten years ago. That was the last time a report card had an A on it, other than the ones in my name. Now, I just have to keep the trend going.
I'm tired. I feel aimless. I kinda want to go to sleep, I kinda don't, I have no idea. I kinda want to grab something to eat but I feel like I'm not really hungry, and that I'm just bored. Although, I didn't really eat a proper dinner- a dollar menu cheeseburger, and a 5-piece chicken nugget thing several hours later... hmm. Maybe I do have license to be hungry, but given that I've eaten fast food today, I don't know where a meal would fit in my calorie budget.
NM- problem solved- Star Trek is on.
(DB) out.
fireworks, or a conspicuous lack thereof
So, let me preface today's entry with this: I haven't slept since yesterday.
I spent all day and all night working on a paper, which I probably should have spend more time working on before then... but oh well. Bygones.
My procrastination kept me from being able to attend any of the 4th of July fireworks in person, but from my smoky roost on my back porch, I definitely heard every firecracker in a ten-mile radius. I felt like the kid who was home sick on a field trip, or had a broken leg when everyone else was going to the beach. Actually, in my past, I've been both of those kids, so I guess the experience wasn't all that alien to me.
Regardless, I busted a ton of ass (most of it my own) and got the paper done. Aside from two finals tomorrow and possibly a project in Comps class today, I'm officially done with my first set of classes. And, presuming excellent scores on my exams, I should have A's in both classes. Of course, next Monday starts the song and dance anew with two different classes. But, one thing at a time. Even though I'll have work most of the time between now and then, I still want to enjoy what small victories I can.
My car... I took her into the shop. I said she had a bad thermostat. And I was right, except for not noticing that she had bad radiator hoses, and a coolant leak from the intake manifold gasket. It sounds nasty, it sounds complicated... and it is both of those things. And, we all know what nasty and complicated mean for car repairs: expensive. That little $150 repair turned into a $981 repair. Booooo.
Right now, I'm sitting in the only way I can that doesn't give away the fact that there's something wrong with my display. I'm at school because I could only get a ride over with my mom, two hours before class starts. And you know what? I'm wearing a decent outfit, typing on a "trendy" Mac, Red Bull and iPod on the table next to my messenger bag. I don't care if I look like I couldn't define the word "situp" from the way this position is gracelessly showcasing my curves. I'm cool e-fucking-nough.
Hopefully I'll be able to pick up my car this afternoon, then settle in for one hell of a nap. It will be a welcome departure from consciousness.
Presently, I've been playing with iTunes, and trying to decide what to do. The
This post is now like two days in the making. I'm not even going to try.
I spent all day and all night working on a paper, which I probably should have spend more time working on before then... but oh well. Bygones.
My procrastination kept me from being able to attend any of the 4th of July fireworks in person, but from my smoky roost on my back porch, I definitely heard every firecracker in a ten-mile radius. I felt like the kid who was home sick on a field trip, or had a broken leg when everyone else was going to the beach. Actually, in my past, I've been both of those kids, so I guess the experience wasn't all that alien to me.
Regardless, I busted a ton of ass (most of it my own) and got the paper done. Aside from two finals tomorrow and possibly a project in Comps class today, I'm officially done with my first set of classes. And, presuming excellent scores on my exams, I should have A's in both classes. Of course, next Monday starts the song and dance anew with two different classes. But, one thing at a time. Even though I'll have work most of the time between now and then, I still want to enjoy what small victories I can.
My car... I took her into the shop. I said she had a bad thermostat. And I was right, except for not noticing that she had bad radiator hoses, and a coolant leak from the intake manifold gasket. It sounds nasty, it sounds complicated... and it is both of those things. And, we all know what nasty and complicated mean for car repairs: expensive. That little $150 repair turned into a $981 repair. Booooo.
Right now, I'm sitting in the only way I can that doesn't give away the fact that there's something wrong with my display. I'm at school because I could only get a ride over with my mom, two hours before class starts. And you know what? I'm wearing a decent outfit, typing on a "trendy" Mac, Red Bull and iPod on the table next to my messenger bag. I don't care if I look like I couldn't define the word "situp" from the way this position is gracelessly showcasing my curves. I'm cool e-fucking-nough.
Hopefully I'll be able to pick up my car this afternoon, then settle in for one hell of a nap. It will be a welcome departure from consciousness.
Presently, I've been playing with iTunes, and trying to decide what to do. The
This post is now like two days in the making. I'm not even going to try.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
love wine, hate linksys
My router has kicked me off twice in ten minutes, probably setting a new record for how sucky Linksys routers are. Completely not working would necessitate replacement, but selectively not working (it's only my computer and my mom's) is just cheeky. Not fun cheeky, though. Just mean.
I've been really blog-negligent these past few days, for which there is no great reason. i've been busy. I've been relatively tapped for things to talk about. My life is pretty much the same, day in and day out: My car needs fixing. School occupies a lot of my time. I'm down to three friends I see with any semblance of frequency (that's counting Jinah's mom, who I positively adore). And, I'm of course, just slipping by on enough money to fear just how much totally broke hurts.
One development, though- my car overheated and nearly stalled as I tried to make a left turn today. I think I'm taking it to BJ's tomorrow, if they're open.
Now, though, I shall enjoy my wine and relatively calm weather, and not obsess over the little stupid things that give me a drive to improve my life.
I finish up my classes this week. Of course, I start new classes next week, but it's hard to believe that after only five weeks, that's six credits under my belt. I really only wish the fall semester could pass by as quickly; I feel like I'm actually accomplishing things, rather than letting ambitions lie fallow.
I've been trying to eat healthy. My parents only buy filth, though. So, I get a sense of satisfaction when I tie up the kitchen for an hour trying to throw together something nutritious (or not even, my main requisite is minimal-guilt or guilt-free), and I get to say, "Well, you folks are trying to poison me with these microwaveable intolerabilities!"
The day, though, that I manage to string that sentence together while toiling over a stove... well, that shall be a strange day.
On wine- It's best to drink it when it belongs to other people, because then one thinks twice about the temptation to finish a whole damn bottle. Further, it's best to drink it when it is not offered, but left around for general consumption. One person presenting a bottle of wine to share with another can lead to unpleasant indiscretions. And soreness.
Hah.
(a beat)
I was just about to type something bitter and nasty, but then I thought, perhaps I should save those remarks for other outlets. And maybe, just maybe, I'll pour myself a second glass of wine.
So, for the interesting reading that's been so sorely missing in this here blog, I posit the question, when do you know that real life has hit? Looking at my nine-year plan for amassing degree after degree, finding some sort of job, getting someplace to live.. Well, I remember when I was a kid, there were two timeframes: Now, and Future, separated by the now widely used linguistic / typographical convention that is the lone ? Although looking at where it all should fit chronologically, I feel like ? is where I'm at. Future is still on the horizon, but that pesky punctuatory purgatory (oh, what old grapes can do for alliteration) still remains cloudy.
Will it feel like real life once I'm done my bachelors? Or will that still not be enough? Will I take the stance of the professional student, and remain in college until I'm 30, chasing after a doctorate and a shot at a top-drawer job with a top-dollar salary? Or will it be when I buy my first house, or my first new car, or when I wake up in the morning and think to myself, "hmm, maybe I should start thinking about life insurance?" No, that's "old age," not real life. My thinking is, real life never hits. We are all to walk around with invisible credentials whose obtainment once meant the world to us, and ultimately settle into jobs we really thought we were working so hard to skip over.
Then, maybe one day with enough luck, we might get those dream jobs we always thought about getting. But, even that might not feel like the threshold between ? and Future, because... I don't know. That wick just burned itself out.
Disclaimer: When I said "interesting reading" three paragraphs ago, I might have meant something like philosophical rambling. That's for you to decide.
I have to wake up relatively early, take the car in for repairs, then commit the rest of my day to cleaning out the garage and the basement. I'm really intensely not looking forward to that, because that means: spending a day in a confined space, doing something I passionately hate, kept company by my parents, who know how much I hate being there, and thus get mad at me when my attitude lapses below my ability to feign cheer.
In all fairness though, when my attitude lapses, I get intensely bitter, sarcastic, and by-and-large, evil. Not like this is news to anyone.
I think I'm going to passively absorb half of Wikipedia and call it a night.
(DB) out.
I've been really blog-negligent these past few days, for which there is no great reason. i've been busy. I've been relatively tapped for things to talk about. My life is pretty much the same, day in and day out: My car needs fixing. School occupies a lot of my time. I'm down to three friends I see with any semblance of frequency (that's counting Jinah's mom, who I positively adore). And, I'm of course, just slipping by on enough money to fear just how much totally broke hurts.
One development, though- my car overheated and nearly stalled as I tried to make a left turn today. I think I'm taking it to BJ's tomorrow, if they're open.
Now, though, I shall enjoy my wine and relatively calm weather, and not obsess over the little stupid things that give me a drive to improve my life.
I finish up my classes this week. Of course, I start new classes next week, but it's hard to believe that after only five weeks, that's six credits under my belt. I really only wish the fall semester could pass by as quickly; I feel like I'm actually accomplishing things, rather than letting ambitions lie fallow.
I've been trying to eat healthy. My parents only buy filth, though. So, I get a sense of satisfaction when I tie up the kitchen for an hour trying to throw together something nutritious (or not even, my main requisite is minimal-guilt or guilt-free), and I get to say, "Well, you folks are trying to poison me with these microwaveable intolerabilities!"
The day, though, that I manage to string that sentence together while toiling over a stove... well, that shall be a strange day.
On wine- It's best to drink it when it belongs to other people, because then one thinks twice about the temptation to finish a whole damn bottle. Further, it's best to drink it when it is not offered, but left around for general consumption. One person presenting a bottle of wine to share with another can lead to unpleasant indiscretions. And soreness.
Hah.
(a beat)
I was just about to type something bitter and nasty, but then I thought, perhaps I should save those remarks for other outlets. And maybe, just maybe, I'll pour myself a second glass of wine.
So, for the interesting reading that's been so sorely missing in this here blog, I posit the question, when do you know that real life has hit? Looking at my nine-year plan for amassing degree after degree, finding some sort of job, getting someplace to live.. Well, I remember when I was a kid, there were two timeframes: Now, and Future, separated by the now widely used linguistic / typographical convention that is the lone ? Although looking at where it all should fit chronologically, I feel like ? is where I'm at. Future is still on the horizon, but that pesky punctuatory purgatory (oh, what old grapes can do for alliteration) still remains cloudy.
Will it feel like real life once I'm done my bachelors? Or will that still not be enough? Will I take the stance of the professional student, and remain in college until I'm 30, chasing after a doctorate and a shot at a top-drawer job with a top-dollar salary? Or will it be when I buy my first house, or my first new car, or when I wake up in the morning and think to myself, "hmm, maybe I should start thinking about life insurance?" No, that's "old age," not real life. My thinking is, real life never hits. We are all to walk around with invisible credentials whose obtainment once meant the world to us, and ultimately settle into jobs we really thought we were working so hard to skip over.
Then, maybe one day with enough luck, we might get those dream jobs we always thought about getting. But, even that might not feel like the threshold between ? and Future, because... I don't know. That wick just burned itself out.
Disclaimer: When I said "interesting reading" three paragraphs ago, I might have meant something like philosophical rambling. That's for you to decide.
I have to wake up relatively early, take the car in for repairs, then commit the rest of my day to cleaning out the garage and the basement. I'm really intensely not looking forward to that, because that means: spending a day in a confined space, doing something I passionately hate, kept company by my parents, who know how much I hate being there, and thus get mad at me when my attitude lapses below my ability to feign cheer.
In all fairness though, when my attitude lapses, I get intensely bitter, sarcastic, and by-and-large, evil. Not like this is news to anyone.
I think I'm going to passively absorb half of Wikipedia and call it a night.
(DB) out.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
my weekend
Was a lot of working. And then this happened.
Thankfully, aside from some whiplash and upsetting Adam's back, nobody was seriously injured. Every car you see in the picture was involved.
If you know Jinah, give her some love when you see her. That white one was her unnamed baby.
I got an A on my psych midterm, and on my Comps. midterm. Taking into account how I've done perfect on everything else, yours truly is an A student. Weeeeird.
I tried to blog from the porch earlier, but this fucking hurricane is eating up all my wifi and sitting outside wasn't working. Seriously, though. I'm inside and I can hear the sound of the floodwater in my backyard over the sound of the air conditioner. That can't be good. Oh well. My yard's been eroding for years, it's only getting bad now. My dad said something about it being the Army Corps of Engineers' duty to take care of land erosion.
This summer's going by faster than any I've experienced before. Probably because I've been keeping relatively busy, doing stuff, not having a lot of time to commit to sitting around, and/or driving around aimlessly, like last summer. God, before Katrina, we could say "Let's go for a ride in the country" without eliciting those "are you fucking NUTS?" looks from whoever was around.
I want to go to Deep Creek so bad. Enough said about that.
As you might tell from The Gravy (and I'm not linking to it anymore, you find it yourself, you know you want to), I've got a new bit I'm working on. Although this one's more of a song than a poem, and I'm mostly done recording it, too. If you're not either Jinah, Francis, or my mom, you'll have to wait to hear what it sounds like. I just feel good having recorded something, having a project, if you will. It's been quite some time since I did anything musical, other than farting.
Sometime before the end of this summer, I'm planning on hosting a luau / cookout / big gay yard party. Not necessarily gay, heh, but don't expect to hear country. Or to escape a little bit of disco. Or something.
These sweat pants I'm wearing are making me do just that. I'd take them off, but.. I actually don't know why I haven't taken them off. There, that's better.
I went on a date Friday night. It was alright, I guess, but I fear I'm going to do my magic "I'm unfortunately not interested" act again. I know me.
After an episode of ST:TNG, I've determined it's time to go to bed.
(DB) out.
Friday, June 16, 2006
a clear picture of the region between my ears
Author's note: I mean what I say in the title. This is about as cogent and composed as I get. This entry here is me in print. For now.
Tonight, I sat in the diner with the Apple crew for four hours. It felt good to be home.
I was thinking to myself as I drove home how disastrously I've been neglecting my blog(s). I have good reasons, such as keeping up with school, writing this paper that was due today, well Thursday, whatev, staying in touch with friends, etc.
I think what made tonight at the diner so reminiscent of "the old days" was the conversation. Of late, it's been along the lines of 'get some food, joke about work, go home / go on with evening.' Otherwise, it's with people from outside of work. Still enjoyable, but the dynamic is completely different. Tonight it was me, Bec, Alicia, and Patrick. The latter two made appearances, but Bec and I sat there for about four hours or so.
Of course, the usual hilarity ensued. Talking about boys, jokes about sex, bugs flying in and out of my hair (no joke), and the like. But once the coffee and the ambience of Polly's presence sinks in, it's like we're playing Breakout with each other; bouncing introspective statements and disarming questions back and forth, disintegrating whatever walls we live behind, unearthing the ancient ruins of our inner psyches.
That's what I missed the most, I think. To draw on something I said to Bec, I miss seeing people naked. And I miss being naked.
(If you haven't distinguished from my choice of words tonight that I'm not talking about nudity, go read Entertainment Weekly.)
That's what I think makes my "work friends" so unique. If I had to pick reasons for why that is, I'd say it's because we're around each other all the time, working and otherwise, so we've had more time to observe each other in most facets of our daily lives. To be more abstract, I personally place a lot of faith in how another's presence resonates, in the metaphysical "vibe" or "aura" sense. Being immersed in a set of company, through a diverse set of situations and conditions, tends to foster a connection that I, granted from limited experience, view as rare.
So, in summation, we're very well equipped to sand-blast each others' personalities until we're sitting there, naked, looking at our clothes, and learning what it is to live, and why.
It's inspiring.
Looking at my life right now, school's treating me a lot better than I was expecting. No, actually, it's more along the lines of, I'm applying myself and enjoying it more than I was expecting. It's been a good, long-ass time since I've turned in a paper and felt like I was running across a finish line somewhere. As far as I know, aside from missing one point in a lab for Intro to Comps., my grades are perfect. I'm doing homework, acting responsibly, sleeping, not eating the entire contents of my kitchen on a regular basis...
Compared to a month ago, and a year ago, I've got my shit together. Of course, I'd love to sit back and revel in that. But I feel like I've still got a lot more work ahead of me, mostly because I actually do, and therefore I don't want to think about any laurels that I might be tempted to rest on. As I was saying earlier tonight, I don't want to stop until I've reached a point where my potential is no longer limited by decisions I've made.
A lofty goal, but attainable. Aren't the best goals the lofty ones, anyway?
The sense of satisfaction I get from actively pursuing success is helping to quiet the voices inside that tell me I'm lonely. Shit, if you've been reading at all these past couple entries, you might know how loud those voices get. However, one of the textbook coping mechanisms for anything is keeping busy. And, since I can use that to my advantage, I don't feel so much like trying to break it apart and solve the real issue.
In my soul of souls, I know the issue will resolve itself when a) the stars are properly aligned, and b) when I'm good and ready. But, in the more superficial soul above that one, I still feel like I want someone. Don't know who. And really, I don't know what I'd do with someone who met my criteria. Frankly, the chances of that person existing right now are so slim that I'd probably start looking around for the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.
That's not me being emo. That's me acknowledging how picky I am. Which I sometimes think is self-destructive. Enter the soul of souls again, though, and I really know that my standards are for my own good. Plus, combined with the circumstances of my life at present, I've said this before: there isn't much room (or desire) for compromise on my part.
I'm trying to decide where I want to transfer, whenever I'm in a position to do so. I have decided that I don't want to stay in Maryland, if I have anything to say about it. My two choices for schools are ASU in Phoenix, and McGill in Montreal. ASU's transfer requirements seem hellish, but they're probably pretty much in line with those of other American schools. McGill's requirements are even more hellish, because the standardized tests in Canada are a lot more rigorous than they are here.
I think I could probably get past that if I wanted it badly enough. Then there's that problem of transferability of credits to any post-grad stuff I'd want to do. Which, if I stick with psychology, might interfere with getting licensure years down the line. Something to consider, but whatever. Who knows if I'll be sticking with psychology? I think I'd like to now, but I'm still relatively early on in my college experience. Overall, though, I think if I had the chance to go to McGill, I would. ASU would probably be a close second.
As much as I've wanted to go to Phoenix over the past few years, I think McGill would be a more fertile ground for education. And I think Montreal in general would probably be a much more diverse playground for new ideas, etc... I think it'd provoke me to continue further on my never-ending quest to understand myself. While Phoenix is always sunny and I do have family there, something about the opportunity to go to a completely unfamiliar and appealing place is tugging on my leg, asking me to jump in.
(DB) out.
Tonight, I sat in the diner with the Apple crew for four hours. It felt good to be home.
I was thinking to myself as I drove home how disastrously I've been neglecting my blog(s). I have good reasons, such as keeping up with school, writing this paper that was due today, well Thursday, whatev, staying in touch with friends, etc.
I think what made tonight at the diner so reminiscent of "the old days" was the conversation. Of late, it's been along the lines of 'get some food, joke about work, go home / go on with evening.' Otherwise, it's with people from outside of work. Still enjoyable, but the dynamic is completely different. Tonight it was me, Bec, Alicia, and Patrick. The latter two made appearances, but Bec and I sat there for about four hours or so.
Of course, the usual hilarity ensued. Talking about boys, jokes about sex, bugs flying in and out of my hair (no joke), and the like. But once the coffee and the ambience of Polly's presence sinks in, it's like we're playing Breakout with each other; bouncing introspective statements and disarming questions back and forth, disintegrating whatever walls we live behind, unearthing the ancient ruins of our inner psyches.
That's what I missed the most, I think. To draw on something I said to Bec, I miss seeing people naked. And I miss being naked.
(If you haven't distinguished from my choice of words tonight that I'm not talking about nudity, go read Entertainment Weekly.)
That's what I think makes my "work friends" so unique. If I had to pick reasons for why that is, I'd say it's because we're around each other all the time, working and otherwise, so we've had more time to observe each other in most facets of our daily lives. To be more abstract, I personally place a lot of faith in how another's presence resonates, in the metaphysical "vibe" or "aura" sense. Being immersed in a set of company, through a diverse set of situations and conditions, tends to foster a connection that I, granted from limited experience, view as rare.
So, in summation, we're very well equipped to sand-blast each others' personalities until we're sitting there, naked, looking at our clothes, and learning what it is to live, and why.
It's inspiring.
Looking at my life right now, school's treating me a lot better than I was expecting. No, actually, it's more along the lines of, I'm applying myself and enjoying it more than I was expecting. It's been a good, long-ass time since I've turned in a paper and felt like I was running across a finish line somewhere. As far as I know, aside from missing one point in a lab for Intro to Comps., my grades are perfect. I'm doing homework, acting responsibly, sleeping, not eating the entire contents of my kitchen on a regular basis...
Compared to a month ago, and a year ago, I've got my shit together. Of course, I'd love to sit back and revel in that. But I feel like I've still got a lot more work ahead of me, mostly because I actually do, and therefore I don't want to think about any laurels that I might be tempted to rest on. As I was saying earlier tonight, I don't want to stop until I've reached a point where my potential is no longer limited by decisions I've made.
A lofty goal, but attainable. Aren't the best goals the lofty ones, anyway?
The sense of satisfaction I get from actively pursuing success is helping to quiet the voices inside that tell me I'm lonely. Shit, if you've been reading at all these past couple entries, you might know how loud those voices get. However, one of the textbook coping mechanisms for anything is keeping busy. And, since I can use that to my advantage, I don't feel so much like trying to break it apart and solve the real issue.
In my soul of souls, I know the issue will resolve itself when a) the stars are properly aligned, and b) when I'm good and ready. But, in the more superficial soul above that one, I still feel like I want someone. Don't know who. And really, I don't know what I'd do with someone who met my criteria. Frankly, the chances of that person existing right now are so slim that I'd probably start looking around for the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.
That's not me being emo. That's me acknowledging how picky I am. Which I sometimes think is self-destructive. Enter the soul of souls again, though, and I really know that my standards are for my own good. Plus, combined with the circumstances of my life at present, I've said this before: there isn't much room (or desire) for compromise on my part.
I'm trying to decide where I want to transfer, whenever I'm in a position to do so. I have decided that I don't want to stay in Maryland, if I have anything to say about it. My two choices for schools are ASU in Phoenix, and McGill in Montreal. ASU's transfer requirements seem hellish, but they're probably pretty much in line with those of other American schools. McGill's requirements are even more hellish, because the standardized tests in Canada are a lot more rigorous than they are here.
I think I could probably get past that if I wanted it badly enough. Then there's that problem of transferability of credits to any post-grad stuff I'd want to do. Which, if I stick with psychology, might interfere with getting licensure years down the line. Something to consider, but whatever. Who knows if I'll be sticking with psychology? I think I'd like to now, but I'm still relatively early on in my college experience. Overall, though, I think if I had the chance to go to McGill, I would. ASU would probably be a close second.
As much as I've wanted to go to Phoenix over the past few years, I think McGill would be a more fertile ground for education. And I think Montreal in general would probably be a much more diverse playground for new ideas, etc... I think it'd provoke me to continue further on my never-ending quest to understand myself. While Phoenix is always sunny and I do have family there, something about the opportunity to go to a completely unfamiliar and appealing place is tugging on my leg, asking me to jump in.
(DB) out.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
this is where songs come from
I can see it happening now. All it takes is enough conversation with some intangible boy, and I start to care about him. Then, all he has to do is say one wrong thing, and I start to doubt him. He quickly corrects it, and I shove the doubts to the back of my mind and get back to caring. Combine that with distance and indifference amidst an otherwise desirable set of character traits, and there we have it: the self-perceived Challenge, the uphill battle I seem drawn to fighting.
I will be alone for quite some time, because it seems I'm entirely too self-destructive in my choice of men lately. Something about this cycle has to give, and I'm tired of it being me.
I'm tired of finding disillusionment lining the only road that, inherently, I believe to be the most important. If not for love, there would be no point to life whatsoever. I don't like thinking about that anymore.
I'm a (mostly) good person. I've got a lot to give. I care, sometimes too much, and I'm perfectly capable of loving someone.
Am I, though? I've come to think lately that if someone has deep enough feelings for me, that I'm doing something wrong; that I'm failing to realize something about either them or myself, that will pop up sooner or later and make it all crash and burn. But, turn the tables, and I'll cry myself to sleep over every unstable, idiotic bastard that I happened to identify with, at least until I get tired of it.
That cannot be healthy.
So, am I capable of love, or am I just capable of pretending I want to be? How deep-seated is all this, and how much more digging and sorting through my and others' feelings before I find some semblance of reason?
If I can't do the one thing I've felt we were all put here to do, then what is the point?
Tobacco, that's what.
I will be alone for quite some time, because it seems I'm entirely too self-destructive in my choice of men lately. Something about this cycle has to give, and I'm tired of it being me.
I'm tired of finding disillusionment lining the only road that, inherently, I believe to be the most important. If not for love, there would be no point to life whatsoever. I don't like thinking about that anymore.
I'm a (mostly) good person. I've got a lot to give. I care, sometimes too much, and I'm perfectly capable of loving someone.
Am I, though? I've come to think lately that if someone has deep enough feelings for me, that I'm doing something wrong; that I'm failing to realize something about either them or myself, that will pop up sooner or later and make it all crash and burn. But, turn the tables, and I'll cry myself to sleep over every unstable, idiotic bastard that I happened to identify with, at least until I get tired of it.
That cannot be healthy.
So, am I capable of love, or am I just capable of pretending I want to be? How deep-seated is all this, and how much more digging and sorting through my and others' feelings before I find some semblance of reason?
If I can't do the one thing I've felt we were all put here to do, then what is the point?
Tobacco, that's what.
Monday, June 05, 2006
asdf.
I've been talking to a boy lately. At times I don't know what I think about him. I know for sure that if he lived in Baltimore, we'd have met already. But alas, he lives in DC.
Could my autumnal "find someone" instinct be kicking in early? Perhaps, given all the thought I've been wasting on the subject. Wow, but anyway, we're supposed to somehow meet for lunch next week. Not this one, but the next one.
The rest of this post has been omitted because it's NOT INTERESTING AT ALL.
Could my autumnal "find someone" instinct be kicking in early? Perhaps, given all the thought I've been wasting on the subject. Wow, but anyway, we're supposed to somehow meet for lunch next week. Not this one, but the next one.
The rest of this post has been omitted because it's NOT INTERESTING AT ALL.
I've done a lot more writing this weekend than I'm really used to, and it feels good. I'm half tempted to start drawing shit again tonight. I say half tempted because I have to wake up sometime before noon.
Maybe I'll do my hair.
I have to buy blank DVDs. I didn't spend all this money on a Superdrive for nothing.
Maybe I'll do my hair.
I have to buy blank DVDs. I didn't spend all this money on a Superdrive for nothing.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
P.O.S.T.
It's ridiculously pretty out. I think I was supposed to hang with Dave today or something. But I need to finish cleaning. Ugh.
At least my iPod will keep me company through that.
For no apparent reason, I feel a little bit like crap. Probably because I slept in funny positions last night.
Hah, I only seem capable of one-sentence introspection right now.
Power On Self Test. Makes sense.
I need to dig through my closet, in hopes that old textbooks are all still dwelling there. I also need breakfast.
I'd feel bad eating, though, because I ate like a fat girl last night, between Sushi Hana, dessert, and 3am munchies. Maybe I shouldn't eat.
Do I need to go to the bathroom? Only time will tell.
At least my iPod will keep me company through that.
For no apparent reason, I feel a little bit like crap. Probably because I slept in funny positions last night.
Hah, I only seem capable of one-sentence introspection right now.
Power On Self Test. Makes sense.
I need to dig through my closet, in hopes that old textbooks are all still dwelling there. I also need breakfast.
I'd feel bad eating, though, because I ate like a fat girl last night, between Sushi Hana, dessert, and 3am munchies. Maybe I shouldn't eat.
Do I need to go to the bathroom? Only time will tell.
i can feel your feet touching mine
For the sake of my dubious traces of a reputation, and in deference to my mental state last night, let us call the last line of the previous post "lost in translation."
I was useless today. I slept in, masturbated, ate some cheese, took a nap, and only after that did I really start my day. I had sushi with friends, then stood around talking with Bec in the parking lot for what turned out to be two hours. Then, I got dessert with Tabby, came home, and largely repeated my morning. And thus, here I am.
School starts Tuesday and I'm only half-sure I have the books from when I took one of the classes before. The other class, well, I'm hoping I can pull some money out of my butt before we actually get to needing that book.
However, given the hands-on nature of that class, I don't see too many homework assignments. Could be wrong, though. Probably am.
I'll say one thing, though. I'm going to have to kick this insomnia. Or, more accurately, the dysfunctional sleep schedule I'm keeping. I doubt I'm doing myself too many favors by being up and writing at this hour, but whatever. A girl's got needs.
At the Double T tonight, the table behind me heard me recounting The List. I don't think they knew I was talking about myself. If they did, I imagined them as the type that would say something ignant. What do I know, though?
2006, thus far, has been a pretty strange year, I guess, considering the number of changes that've occurred to what I would've called my baseline, normal life. Plus, my hair certainly isn't getting any shorter. Which only signifies my adherence to my assertions that I was going to grow it out. Stil, though. I talked about it forever,r and now, it's actually happening. Even though it takes shampoo, conditioner, a blow-drying, a go with a straightening iron, and another blow-drying to get it looking right. Sometime I wonder, how might my days be diffrent if I woke up and gave myself enough time to do my hair in the morning? I conclude that the only real effect would be, being that guy who spends too much time on his hair.
(DB) out.
I was useless today. I slept in, masturbated, ate some cheese, took a nap, and only after that did I really start my day. I had sushi with friends, then stood around talking with Bec in the parking lot for what turned out to be two hours. Then, I got dessert with Tabby, came home, and largely repeated my morning. And thus, here I am.
School starts Tuesday and I'm only half-sure I have the books from when I took one of the classes before. The other class, well, I'm hoping I can pull some money out of my butt before we actually get to needing that book.
However, given the hands-on nature of that class, I don't see too many homework assignments. Could be wrong, though. Probably am.
I'll say one thing, though. I'm going to have to kick this insomnia. Or, more accurately, the dysfunctional sleep schedule I'm keeping. I doubt I'm doing myself too many favors by being up and writing at this hour, but whatever. A girl's got needs.
At the Double T tonight, the table behind me heard me recounting The List. I don't think they knew I was talking about myself. If they did, I imagined them as the type that would say something ignant. What do I know, though?
2006, thus far, has been a pretty strange year, I guess, considering the number of changes that've occurred to what I would've called my baseline, normal life. Plus, my hair certainly isn't getting any shorter. Which only signifies my adherence to my assertions that I was going to grow it out. Stil, though. I talked about it forever,r and now, it's actually happening. Even though it takes shampoo, conditioner, a blow-drying, a go with a straightening iron, and another blow-drying to get it looking right. Sometime I wonder, how might my days be diffrent if I woke up and gave myself enough time to do my hair in the morning? I conclude that the only real effect would be, being that guy who spends too much time on his hair.
(DB) out.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
thunderstorm, part II
This pen is far more suitable.
We went to the diner, drove home, and here I am. I came out to the porch to finish a drawing I started earlier, and so I did, mostly. By the end, the perspective on the wall/ceiling panels got screwed up. The occupant of the porch depicted would have to be on an untold number of drugs for that shit to make any visual sense.
So, this is my last "free" weekend before life starts back up. I feel like I want to go out and be crazy and such, but the wiser half knows that the bored half had more fun thonight, making shirts, painting the beginnings of a tea set, drawing, writing, frolicking, whatever. There was a sense of uniqueness and individuality to our activities tonight that I enjoyed immensely.
Louise says married life is boring. I wonder, is single life all that more enthralling? I want to say no. Sure, having the ability to fantasize guilt-free about whoever you want can be amusing, and you don't have to compete for the covers at night, but eh. There's a kind of monogamy to being single. Love only yourself, until an interesting substitute comes by. (Which I guess would constitue adultery?) Oh well. Here I am, making up catchy truisms out of a sense of being alone.
Although, unfettered from the throes of love and the practicalities of a relationship, I feel like I know myself better. I'm responsible for only my feelings, and my romantic indecision / apathy doesn't have earth-shattering consequences... I like to feel like a walking contradiction sometimes.
The lonely heart, yearning for a companion, has no desire to actually find one.
I was trying to explain it to Francis a couple days ago (I still felt weird talking "inner me" with him but we worked that out) and this is how it goes: I'm unwilling to compromise the fairly loose set of standards that I have, and therefore I come off, even to myself, as abrasive and heartless.
However, the notion of someone more "my speed" frightens me.
I think I'm more fun when I'm not in love. Acerbic sarcasm is the air I breathe in social situations. Everyone knows my warm, chewy inside, and the juxtaposition between the pulp and the rind can be quite amusing. Even if cynicism is the breakfast of champions for people trying to nurse inner pain... well, if it can get a chuckle, nurse me. The laughter of others can temporarily fill the gaping hole that is my desire to hear "I love you" with an echo.
I delude myself by thinking, "Well, this will help my art." What art, though? All I do is bitch about work, school, friends, disillusionment with life. Then, I drop a few tonal and metaphorical references to every time I feel disgusting about having bad sex.
<>
(DB) out.
We went to the diner, drove home, and here I am. I came out to the porch to finish a drawing I started earlier, and so I did, mostly. By the end, the perspective on the wall/ceiling panels got screwed up. The occupant of the porch depicted would have to be on an untold number of drugs for that shit to make any visual sense.
So, this is my last "free" weekend before life starts back up. I feel like I want to go out and be crazy and such, but the wiser half knows that the bored half had more fun thonight, making shirts, painting the beginnings of a tea set, drawing, writing, frolicking, whatever. There was a sense of uniqueness and individuality to our activities tonight that I enjoyed immensely.
Louise says married life is boring. I wonder, is single life all that more enthralling? I want to say no. Sure, having the ability to fantasize guilt-free about whoever you want can be amusing, and you don't have to compete for the covers at night, but eh. There's a kind of monogamy to being single. Love only yourself, until an interesting substitute comes by. (Which I guess would constitue adultery?) Oh well. Here I am, making up catchy truisms out of a sense of being alone.
Although, unfettered from the throes of love and the practicalities of a relationship, I feel like I know myself better. I'm responsible for only my feelings, and my romantic indecision / apathy doesn't have earth-shattering consequences... I like to feel like a walking contradiction sometimes.
The lonely heart, yearning for a companion, has no desire to actually find one.
I was trying to explain it to Francis a couple days ago (I still felt weird talking "inner me" with him but we worked that out) and this is how it goes: I'm unwilling to compromise the fairly loose set of standards that I have, and therefore I come off, even to myself, as abrasive and heartless.
However, the notion of someone more "my speed" frightens me.
I think I'm more fun when I'm not in love. Acerbic sarcasm is the air I breathe in social situations. Everyone knows my warm, chewy inside, and the juxtaposition between the pulp and the rind can be quite amusing. Even if cynicism is the breakfast of champions for people trying to nurse inner pain... well, if it can get a chuckle, nurse me. The laughter of others can temporarily fill the gaping hole that is my desire to hear "I love you" with an echo.
I delude myself by thinking, "Well, this will help my art." What art, though? All I do is bitch about work, school, friends, disillusionment with life. Then, I drop a few tonal and metaphorical references to every time I feel disgusting about having bad sex.
<
(DB) out.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
thunderstorm, part I
Tonight, Jinah, Adam, and I decided to go to A.C. Moore rather than drive around aimlessly. I'd say it was a good choice. We got materials to make T-shirts, and a tea serving tray.
We spray painted the hell out of everything we bought, stunk up my basement, then went out and frolicked in crazy, pouring rain.
So now, I'm practicing kana, and having tea. A+J are inside watching TV.
This pen is not suitable for writing.
We spray painted the hell out of everything we bought, stunk up my basement, then went out and frolicked in crazy, pouring rain.
So now, I'm practicing kana, and having tea. A+J are inside watching TV.
This pen is not suitable for writing.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
today is Turn On Your Broken Air Conditioner Day
9:12AM- Last night, I fell the fuck asleep, haha. I sat in bed (mistake), intent on writing something, and fell asleep, pen in hand. I woke up largely in the same position hours later. It is insanely beautiful out today. Sucks, because I must spend most of my day trapped away in an office. You know, it's funny. When I first started, I was elated to have a job that didn't require moving around in any fashion. Now, I hate sitting still. I look forward to any chance I get to move around, or whatever. So, today, the Signius Project begins. Between phone calls, I'm going to try and write a poem a day, or a cogent artistic musing a day, or something. It's a way to capitalize on all this ridiculous "free" time. Hopefully, it can stand in for any sense of accomplishment or satisfcation that I might wish for whilst at work. Somehow, I'm going to get my ass to Deep Creek this summer. I don't care who with. Even if it's just by myself. (Preferably not, but whatever.) Well, I know Jinah's wanted to go forever, so she'll have to come. That and, I miss the ocean too... We're all supposed to go camping again in August, but I think that would require finding all of our stuff again; given how it was haphazardly scattered through in everyone's trunks, that would take weeks. It'd probably be easier to just rent cheap hotel rooms, as I have in the past. Come to think, we probably should have gone to Point Lookout during swimming season.. Mmm.. I have off this coming weekend! Maybe I can get down to the ocean for a night or two! I know Jin and I were talking about that, except I think everyone's going down on Sunday, which isn't that convenient, time-wise... Eh, I'll figure it out.
11:19AM- People are idiots. And I am not a telemarketer, or an answering machine. Thankfully, I'm not going to have to struggle with that much longer. And I don't care about "capturing phone numbers and mailing addresses" and trying to upsell people on things. My job is to mindlessly enter information for people and pretend to like it. And pretend to be knowledgeable on things that I'd never pay good money for in my whole life. Also, if I were a caller for any one of these companies, I'd be upset at the number of flaming hoops I'd have to jump through to get an answer about anything. If anything, at least I have a short list of doctors, lawyers, and apartment complexes that I wouldn't consider if my life depended on it. After today, only three days left. I hate how fake I sound when I pick up these calls. My phone voice is nothing like my normal voice, sometimes, anyway. Sometimes, I make no effort to sound enthused, or, no effort to mask that I hate what I'm doing. There really is something to be said for caring about what one does.
12:36PM- I do like The Format's new album. It's more energetic overall, I think. Still, it doesn't have a First Single analog, which I still feel bad for caring about, but overall I'd say there are more "skip-to" songs.
12:54PM- I wish being at this cubicle didn't drain all the vitality out of me.
1:07PM- I wish I didn't have to hear the same sob story about the same S.O.B.... that... uhhhh... they broke up because of an AIM prank, designed to trap the guy into saying the wrong thing.
1:28PM- Cigarette. Finally. Praise Jesus.
1:43PM- My mission for today is to punch thousands of tiny pinholes into a piece of paper. Then, I will hang it on my wall or something.
1:50PM- Speaking of hanging things on walls, I need to remove all the pictures from my cubicle, because I'm leaving and my room could certainly use some current photos. But, I know if I take them down now, I'll be bored out of my mind until I finally do leave. Not like I look at them all that often, but they cast an ambient glow over this grey prison.
3:03PM- I got the most amusing call ever. A maintenance man fixed a toilet. Then, he shit in it. He didn't do a great job fixing it. After the flush, his shit exploded upwards and outwards. The woman kept screaming, "There is doo-doo everywhere!" At least eight times.
4:13PM- It is STUPID BALLS HOT out. At least it was in my car, where I had lunch. Something about eating, alone, in an undecorated, windowless break room, with only the hum of bending machines to tickle my ears, well. Kinda makes me unhappy. It's funny. Morale here usually seems fine, but looking at anyone alone in that break room, it just feels like they hate being there.
4:57PM- People are monkeys. I understand it sucks that your AC doesn't work. But I am a hundred miles away. Get a life.
6:52PM- We have been STUPID busy. I don't know why so many people had a Memorial Day deadline to turn on their air conditioners. Retarded.
11:40PM- Turns out my parents turned ours on today, too.
(DB) out.
11:19AM- People are idiots. And I am not a telemarketer, or an answering machine. Thankfully, I'm not going to have to struggle with that much longer. And I don't care about "capturing phone numbers and mailing addresses" and trying to upsell people on things. My job is to mindlessly enter information for people and pretend to like it. And pretend to be knowledgeable on things that I'd never pay good money for in my whole life. Also, if I were a caller for any one of these companies, I'd be upset at the number of flaming hoops I'd have to jump through to get an answer about anything. If anything, at least I have a short list of doctors, lawyers, and apartment complexes that I wouldn't consider if my life depended on it. After today, only three days left. I hate how fake I sound when I pick up these calls. My phone voice is nothing like my normal voice, sometimes, anyway. Sometimes, I make no effort to sound enthused, or, no effort to mask that I hate what I'm doing. There really is something to be said for caring about what one does.
12:36PM- I do like The Format's new album. It's more energetic overall, I think. Still, it doesn't have a First Single analog, which I still feel bad for caring about, but overall I'd say there are more "skip-to" songs.
12:54PM- I wish being at this cubicle didn't drain all the vitality out of me.
1:07PM- I wish I didn't have to hear the same sob story about the same S.O.B.... that... uhhhh... they broke up because of an AIM prank, designed to trap the guy into saying the wrong thing.
1:28PM- Cigarette. Finally. Praise Jesus.
1:43PM- My mission for today is to punch thousands of tiny pinholes into a piece of paper. Then, I will hang it on my wall or something.
1:50PM- Speaking of hanging things on walls, I need to remove all the pictures from my cubicle, because I'm leaving and my room could certainly use some current photos. But, I know if I take them down now, I'll be bored out of my mind until I finally do leave. Not like I look at them all that often, but they cast an ambient glow over this grey prison.
3:03PM- I got the most amusing call ever. A maintenance man fixed a toilet. Then, he shit in it. He didn't do a great job fixing it. After the flush, his shit exploded upwards and outwards. The woman kept screaming, "There is doo-doo everywhere!" At least eight times.
4:13PM- It is STUPID BALLS HOT out. At least it was in my car, where I had lunch. Something about eating, alone, in an undecorated, windowless break room, with only the hum of bending machines to tickle my ears, well. Kinda makes me unhappy. It's funny. Morale here usually seems fine, but looking at anyone alone in that break room, it just feels like they hate being there.
4:57PM- People are monkeys. I understand it sucks that your AC doesn't work. But I am a hundred miles away. Get a life.
6:52PM- We have been STUPID busy. I don't know why so many people had a Memorial Day deadline to turn on their air conditioners. Retarded.
11:40PM- Turns out my parents turned ours on today, too.
(DB) out.
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