King Kong + Narnia

Alright... finals week is over, I've left the good old mushy-snow streets of A-town and made my way back East for the next few weeks. Hopefully I'll have more time to write and actually something to say.

At any rate, a few days ago I made a post about movies I'd like to see, and I figured I'd update on that. Thursday night I went to see King Kong with Joe and Amanda, and I'd say that overall it was a good movie- it far exceeded my initial expectations. That said, I did find it to be quite long and contain some scenes that I thought were unnecessary and didn't really add much to the movie other than that Peter Jackson likes strange CG creatures (speaking of which, when the group was being attacked by all of the creepy bug-like animals, did anyone else pick up on the one creature that stunningly looked like one of the enemies in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time? Ah, the geek in me comes out...) I will say that, for a CG animated creature, Peter Jackson has done a terrific job endearing King Kong to the audience, and actually making them feel as if a terrible injustice has been committed when he dies in the end. I suppose that quality is what has made King Kong popular through the years.

Tonight, I got to go to see The Chronicles of Narnia, which I also enjoyed. I haven't really looked at the books since I first read them in 4th or 5th grade 10 years ago. That didn't really matter though, because the movie was fantastic. The production was fantastic, and the principal character actors did a terrific job, for being a group of relatively unknowns. All in all, the movie was great, and I'm looking forward to reading the books again sometime soon, and the release of the rest of the series on film. The Biblical allegory was obvious, but I think that C.S. Lewis most likely intended it to be so, and Liam Neeson was a terrific Aslan (as could be expected).

Alright, I'm off to watch a few episodes of Lost Season 1 and catch some sleep.

10

Haven't written in a few days... finals week, you know how it goes. I'll hopefully have lots of time to write over break (which is sorely needed). But for now, 10 years ago the year was 1995. The O.J. Simpson murder trial was going on. Timothy McVeigh bombed the Murrah federal building in Oklahoma City, and Unibomber was sending bombs through the mail. Jacques Chirac became president of France. Windows 95 was released. Bill Clinton got rid of the 55 mph speed limit. Calvin and Hobbes went out of syndication. And where was I?

10 years ago, I…

was in 5th grade, and has Mrs. Helsing as a teacher. Regularly visited Mr. Klicker and Ms. Neely (fourth grade teachers) at the end of the day. Went to Camp Kon-O-Kwee as a student. Was 11 years old, and eagerly awaited being a “teenager.” Had just met Jesse Helfrich, and quickly became best friends with him (Funny how things like that work out…) Had a bowl cut. Loved math and science. Found out that Jesse had to have his appendix removed, and actually cried because I was worried he would die. Liked animals. Didn’t own a computer. Didn’t have a TV in my own room… in fact, there was only one TV in the whole house. Shared a room with my brother. Started riding my bike to Chippewa on a daily basis. Spent most days with Jesse, Tom Detka, Bo Oravitz, and Tony Wyman. Later on, I would meet Amanda Cox, Candice Strickland, Courtney Storey, Stephanie Staples, and Matt Peters. We became a really tight group of friends, spending most days together, until they all pretty much moved away. Used my imagination a lot more than I do now. Had hardly any body hair. Bought candy at the store and sold it on the bus. Was even more of a geek than I am now. Rode my bike EVERYWHERE. Found out that my grandma was diagnosed with cancer. Hated chapstick with a passion. Got glasses because my eyes sucked. Was helping to clean up the “new house” so we could move. Didn’t fully appreciate having 3 bathrooms (until we moved to a house with only one). Ate ramen almost every day after school. Played around on an old apple computer that my grandfather bought from somewhere... This one had simple graphics, but still was just green on a black screen. Wanted to be an astronomer, or a scientist. Wrote for a little newspaper that the Gifted Program put out to the intermediate school. Spent my free time at school building elaborate things with pneumatic lego sets. Listened to B94 out of Pittsburgh pretty much nonstop. Had a crush on Natalie Freed and let her play my Gameboy on the school bus so she would sit with me. Couldn’t cut my fingernails for shit. Started playing trumpet. Watched new episodes of Seinfeld after Friends on Thursday nights (Must-see TV). Watched All That on Nickelodeon, and thought it was the funniest show on the planet. Went to Jesse’s after school to watch taped episodes of The Late Show with David Letterman, since we weren’t allowed to stay up that late.

The beauty of Seinfeld

I was watching Seinfeld tonight, mostly out of boredom, and as I watched the first 4 episodes of Season 4, I realized one of the many things that makes Seinfeld such a great show: Each of the characters has so many little quirks that we all laugh at, but every so often, they hit a quirk on the head and we see ourselves in them.

For example, in "The Trip," George is accompanying Jerry on a trip to appear on The Tonight Show in L.A., and although it is only a two day trip, George packs two large suitcases and several bags. Jerry questions him as to why he has packed so much, and George replies "I happen to dress based on mood." I find this humorous because, I, too, often choose what I wear based on what mood I happen to be in. I used to lay my clothes out at night, to reduce the time I needed to get ready in the morning, but often I found myself the next morning either regretting my choices and picking something new, or putting them on anyways and feeling strange all day.

I saw another little part of myself in George Castanza in "The Pitch." George is discussing his discomfort because he hadn't shaved that morning, and Jerry nonchalantly asks him why he didin't shave. George replies that he had shaved yesterday afternoon and it was too early to shave again, and that he would have to get back on schedule. While I'm sure there are people who can shave any time or as many times in a 24 hour period as they'd like, I don't happen to be one of them. I, like Costanza, would most likely have waited and gone with stubble for a day, waiting until the next morning to shave, effectively "getting back on schedule." I've found in my own life that if, for some reason, I am unable to shave at the usual time, I must be stubbly for a day or so until I can get straightened out.


I'll post more when I find them.... it amuses me, at least.

Great headline.

This just in: Bush says he does not live in a bubble. Thank you, Mr. President, for clearing that up, but I'm sorry, the card says 'Moops.'

15

Alright, I stole this idea from K-Lowe, and so I'm not trying to claim it as my own. I believe he stole it from someone else, and so here it is. In installments, I'm going to write about where I was and what I was doing 1, 5, 10, and 15 years ago.

For what it's worth, I'm going to start with 15. Even though I was just starting Kindergarden at a ripe 6 years old, I think it's interesting to note what I can remember.


15 years ago, I...

Was 6 years old, and started Kindergarten. Had George Bush for a President. Learned to Count and Tie my shoes. Learned that Santa Claus wasn’t real. Was very religious, and had unquestioned faith. Had Mrs. Wagner for a teacher. Was taught the alphabet in class, but my dad had already taught it to me. Learned the Pledge of Allegiance. Took Ninja Turtles stuff into class for Show and Tell. Watched Saturday morning cartoons religiously. Had to go to bed at 9:00 on school nights, because my mom made me. Hated brushing my teeth. Spent my afternoons after school at my grandparents’, where my grandfather taught me about computers and showed me how to program on an old Radio Shack computer with no graphics and only orange text on a black screen. Had about 10 cats that lived outside. Still lived at the “old house,” which is, coincidentally, right next to the house where I now live. Regularly rented VHS tapes from Wilson's Video Corner in Chippewa. Made some money by sweeping floors at houses my dad was building and folding flyers he mailed to generate business for Riccon Development Inc. Uncle Ronnie was alive. Pap Gray was alive. Had a bowl cut. Took sign language classes with my mom at CCBC for fun. Had a best friend, Carson Pete, who eventually moved to Nevada. Bought candy from McCarters. Rode my bike to the bar across the street to pick up the cans and bottles people left outside so I could recycle them and my grandfather would give me money. Convinced my mom to start going to church. Had a two-year-old baby sister. Went swimming out at Shirleen's swimming pool, right next to my grandma's house. Wore cheap shoes from Payless and hand-me-down clothes from relatives and the rummage sale at the Chippewa United Methodist Church. Did odd jobs around the house for money, which I saved up in a jar in my dresser for the entire year, only to spend it during the week my family spent at Geneva-on-the-lake every summer. Great Grandma McClain was still alive. Shared a room with my brother, and fought over top bunk (or bottom, usually whichever of the two I happened to want at the time).

Movies I'd Like to See

Unfortunately, I haven't gotten to see as many movies lately as I would like to, but there are certainly a bunch of movies out or coming out soon that I'd like to see... possibly over break.

• The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe - I first read The Chronicles of Narnia when I was in 4th grade and had Mr. Klicker as a teacher. I read the first book and quickly tore through the rest of them. I haven't reread them in years, but I can't wait to see it. And Liam Neeson, who is a badass, will be the voice of Aslan. A fine pick.
• King Kong - I think the first time I saw a preview for this was when we all went to see Star Wars: Episode III at the midnight showing, and I remember thinking that the movie looked horrible, the animation was fake, and it looked like it was going to be a big piece of shit. We all laughed at how bad it looked. But recently, I've actually found myself really looking forward to seeing Peter Jackson's King Kong. I don't know what happened, but it really looks like it's going to be good. Plus, the fact that I just Checked Rotten Tomatoes, and right now it's at a 96% rating, which is fucking amazing for Rotten Tomatoes. I'm starting to wonder if it's going to be like one of those experiences where your mind is totally blown because it's something so... groundbreaking? New? Innovative? That it is absolutely and truly unlike anything ever done before.
  
• Walk the Line - I wanted to see this one long before Jamie DeMonte recommended it. From the previews (and Jamie's say-so), it looks like Joaquin Phoenix does a great version of the Man in Black, and I really think Johnny Cash's life would make a fantastic movie.
• Capote - I wanted to see this since I read about it in the GQ I snagged from the convenience store when they were giving them away at the beginning of the month. I really have liked Truman Capote since I read In Cold Blood my Senior year of High School. I think that Phillip Seymour Hoffman is a very versatile actor, and he doesn't get enough credit for it, and so I think that he'll pull of the role of Capote nicely. Plus, Frank Tascone recommended it, and I trust him. *Cue up Selby voice: "I wouldn't tell this to my classes ten years ago, but Truman Capote was a homosexual."* Only you, Selb Dogg, Only you.

Plus, Maggie said I could borrow season 1 of Lost. I've been interested in it, but I haven't had the time. So maybe I'll catch the bug.

P.S. I'm going to try to restart my blogging. I usually don't have much to say, and what I say will most likely not be too important, but at least it keeps me writing.

Wisdom from Bill Maher:


New Rule: For Christ's sake, no more devil movies. "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" opened huge last week, and it surprised a lot of people, mostly because Owen Wilson wasn't in it. But exorcism, or as the Catholics call it, "elective surgery," is a popular theme nowadays because it reinforces the comforting notion that evil resides outside of us.

Well, I'm sorry, but it doesn't. And whenever I hear someone blame a bombing in Baghdad or a levee breaking in New Orleans on the forces of evil, it makes me so mad I just want to grab my pitchfork and stick it right through my cloven hoof!

Now, Americans have always loved devil movies: "The Exorcist," "The Omen," "Rosemary's Baby," "The Devil's Advocate." The list goes on forever because Americans love the devil. Why? Because he's simple and he provides a simple answer. He did it.

But evil is not a demon with a tail and horns. That's a Jew. And evil - evil isn't some spectral goblin with red eyes and the voice of Anthony Hopkins. That's Anthony Hopkins.

Is George Bush purely evil? Of course not. And that's what's so evil about him. He doesn't twirl a mustache and smirk and cackle. Well, he doesn't twirl a mustache. He's like the Peanuts character Pigpen. Wherever he goes, he stirs up such a humongous mess it can only be cleaned up by Halliburton. But he is not pure evil.

Because evil is a chain. Did any one person doom New Orleans? No, it's a chain. People vote for a corrupt leader; a corrupt leader puts unqualified cronies in high places, and when those cronies fuck up, evil gets done. The devil didn't fly up from hell and knock a hole in that levee. The levee just didn't get built because the money for it went to rich people's tax cuts and pork projects and corporate welfare.

Evil isn't "Salem's Lot." It's Trent Lott. This week, an ailing American bald eagle was found to be dying from mercury poisoning. Republicans immediately tried to blame it on the eagle's lifestyle choices. But it's worth noting that also this week, the White House threatened to veto limits on mercury pollution. Now, pure evil would be if George Bush sat around the White House saying, "Let's poison eagles!" And even I don't believe George Bush would do that.

Cheney would do that. And even he is not pure evil. Dick Cheney doesn't hate poor children and caribou. They're just in the way.

Bottom line: some people think Satan is real and some people think global warming is real. If you think stopping gays from doing it is more important than the ice caps melting, the boogeyman is you...

DiSC results

Okay, so when I was at LeaderShape in July, one of the things that we had to do was take this personality profile called DiSC. The way that this particular profile worked was that we were given 28 groups of 4 words and we had to choose one MOST and one LEAST out of the four words. For example:

sociable, patient, self-reliant, soft-spoken

Out of this particular group, I chose "self-reliant" for MOST and "patient" for LEAST. Anyways, after it was all said and done, we had to tally them up, put them on a graph, and figure out some different things.

At any rate, here is what my DiSC personality profile says about me, because I think it's interesting.



General Highlights:
I scored very high in D and i, and very low in S and C. What this means is as follows:


D: Dominance - Emphasis is on shaping the environment by overcoming opposition to accomplish results.
This person's tendencies include:

• Getting immediate results
• causing action
• accepting challenges
• making quick decisions
• questioning the status quo
• taking authority
• managing trouble
• solving problems

This person desires an environment that includes:

• power and authority
• prestige and challenge
• opportunities for individual accomplishments
• a wide scope of operations
• direct answers
• opportunities for advancement
• freedom from controls and supervision
• many new and varied activities

This person needs others who:

• weigh pros and cons
• calculate risks
• use caution
• create a predictable environment
• research facts
• deliberate before deciding
• recognize the needs of others

To be more effective, this person needs:

• to recieve difficult assignments
• to understand that they need people
• to base techniques on practical experience
• to recieve an occasional shock
• to identify with a group
• to verbalize reasons for conclusions
• to be aware of existing sanctions
• to pace self and to relax more

i: Influence - Emphasis is on shaping the environment by influencing or persuading others.

This person's tendencies include:

• contacting people
• making a favorable impression
• being articulate
• creating a motivating environment
• generating enthusiasm
• entertaining people
• viewing people and situations with optimism
• participating in a group

This person desires an environment that includes:

• popularity, social recognition
• public recognition of ability
• freedom of expression
• group activities outside of job
• democratic relationships
• freedom from control and detail
• opportunities to verbalize proposals
• coaching and counseling
• favorable working conditions

This person needs others who:

• concentrate on the task
• seek facts
• speak directly
• respect sincerity
• develop systematic approaches
• prefer to deal with things instead of people
• take a logical approach
• demonstrate individual follow-through

To be more effective, this person needs:

• to control time, if D or S is low
• to make objective decisions
• to use hands-on management
• to be more realistic when appraising others
• to make priorities and deadlines

Some words that describe me:
egocentric, direct, daring, domineering, demeanding, forceful, risk-taker
enthusiastic, gregarious,persuasive, impulsive, emotional
change-oriented, fault-finding, spontaneous, frustrated by the status-quo, active
rebellious, defiant, obstinate, tactless, sarcastic


My Classical Profile Pattern: Inspirational.

Emotions: accepts aggression; downplays need for affection
Goal: Control of their environment or audience
Judges others by: projection of personal strength, character, and social power
Influences others by: charm, direction, intimidation; use of rewards
Value to the organization: acts as a "people mover"; initiates, demands, compliments, disciplines
Overuses: attitude that "the ends justify the means"
Under Pressure: becomes manipulative, quarrelsome or belligerent
Fears: weak behavior, loss of social status
Would increase effectiveness through: genuine sensitivity, willingness to help others to succeed in their own personal development

Persons with the Inspirational Pattern consciously attempt to modify the thoughts and actions of others. They want to control their environment. They are astute at identifying and manipulating an individual's existing motives in order to direct that person's behavior toward a predetermined end.
Inspirational persons are clear about the results they want, but they do not always immediately verbalize them. They state the results they want only after they have primed the other person, offering friendship to those who desire acceptance, authority to those who seek power, and security to those who want a predictable environment.
Inspirational persons can be charming in their interactions. They are persuasive when they want help in repetitive and time-consuming details. People often experience a conflicting sensation by feeling drawn to Inspirational people and yet being curiously distanced. Others may feel "used" by Inspirational persons' powers of manipulation. Although they sometimes inspire fear in others and override their decisions, Inspirational persons are generally well liked by co-workers because they use their considerable verbal skills to persuade others whenever possible. Inspirational persons clearly prefer to accomplish goals through cooperation and persuasion instead of domination.

Advanced Global Personality Test Results Extraversion |||||||||||||||||| 80% Stability |||||||||||||||||| 76% Orderliness |||||||||| 36% Altruism |||||||||||| 43% Interdependence |||||||||||||| 56% Intellectual |||||||||||||| 56% Mystical |||||||||||| 50% Artistic |||||||||||||||| 63% Religious |||||| 30% Hedonism |||||||||||||||||| 76% Materialism |||||||||||| 43% Narcissism |||||||||||||||| 63% Adventurousness |||||||||||||||| 70% Work ethic |||||||||||||||||||| 90% Self absorbed |||||||||||||| 56% Conflict seeking |||||||||||||||||| 76% Need to dominate |||||||||||||||||| 76% Romantic |||||||||||||||||| 76% Avoidant |||| 16% Anti-authority |||||||||||||||||||| 83% Wealth |||||| 23% Dependency |||||||||||| 50% Change averse |||||| 30% Cautiousness |||||||||| 36% Individuality |||||||||||||||| 70% Sexuality |||||||||||||||||||| 83% Peter pan complex |||||||||| 36% Physical security |||||||||||||||||| 76% Physical Fitness |||||||||||| 44% Histrionic |||||||||||||||||||| 83% Paranoia |||||||||| 36% Vanity |||||||||||||||||||| 90% Hypersensitivity |||||||||||||||| 63% Female cliche |||||||||||| 50%

Stability results were high which suggests you are very relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic..

Orderliness results were moderately low which suggests you are, at times, overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.

Extraversion results were high which suggests you are overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense too often of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity.

trait snapshot:
messy, disorganized, social, tough, outgoing, rarely worries, self revealing, open, risk taker, likes the unknown, likes large parties, makes friends easily, likes to stand out, likes to make fun of people, reckless, optimistic, positive, strong, does not like to be alone, ambivalent about chaos, abstract, impractical, not good at saving money, fearless, trusting, thrill seeker, not rule conscious, enjoys leadership, strange, loves food, abstract, rarely irritated, anti-authority, attracted to the counter culture

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Narcissism in a Nutshell

***

Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit. –Virgil, The Aeneid

***

I’m full of shit and none of you probably care about what I’m writing, which is, in effect, the maniacal ramblings of a 20-year old white boy who can’t sleep and is faced with the realization that he doesn’t know everything and isn’t invincible. In actuality, this is all just narcissism – Here I sit, in love with and obsessively contemplating my own self-importance, looking at my metaphorical reflection in the symbolic pool and not doing a damn thing about it, ultimately leading to my demise.

The upshot, of course, is that Narcissus at least was such a fucking pathetic creature that the gods pitied him and immortalized him with a flower. As for me, I get nothing save for this rambling drivel… nothing more than ink on paper, when all is said and done. Some testament.

But nevertheless, I write and I blather on, trying to make some kind of meaningful statement and make this my contribution to society and make my writing what all of you will remember me by. Such is the life of a self-important, self-centered, angst-ridden writer.

Mother of God, I really am Narcissus. At the very least, I’m quickly becoming him.

***

So… here I am once again, lying awake in Cunningham Hall, an old brick building filled with a bunch of obnoxious freshmen and me, a sophomore/junior who works too hard and gets too little… I’m on the campus of Mount Union College in Alliance, a run-down town in Eastern Ohio with a Wal-Mart and an Applebees and two McDonalds’ and 5 or 6 drive-through beer distributors and everything else that a college kid could really want. It’s early February, snow is on the ground, and my girlfriend just broke up with me, leaving me feeling, among other things, hurt, anxious, confused, lost…

…Christ, my contribution to literature is rapidly turning into the same fucking cliché that I’ve always written and always tried not to write. I should have started this with “Dear Abby...” Really, is this how far I’ve fallen? Have I actually stooped this low? A cocky, 20-year-old sonofabitch like me writing what sounds like the typical pathetic letters asking for advice to Ann Landers or Penthouse Forum or Miss Cleo or … it doesn’t really matter… after all, When you boil them down, they’re all the same brand of full-of-shit crackpot trying to think they know best for you… right?

And so I begin my cliché with the same old burned-out metaphorical bullshit that I’ve always been fond of in my own writing, but which I’ve always hated when I read it the next morning: “It seems like for the past week and a half or so, I try to go to bed, but I can't sleep. I lay awake, while my mind wanders wonders wanders, and my thoughts roam and ramble from one dark corner to the next, exploring the nooks and niches, finding nothing except my own memories, faded and jaded, and ghosts of the past hopelessly entangled in the silky webs of long-dead spiders.”

Wow… that was deep and symbolic and well written and meaningful and look at my talent…

Right now, it’s late and I want nothing more than to just go to sleep and forget about everything, at least until the alarm goes off the next morning in its same old static beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep until I grudgingly roll out of bed and slap the snooze button and I start the same old routine same old routine same old routine over again because yesterday is today and today is tomorrow and tomorrow is yesterday and it’s all the same – every day just like the others over and over again and I wish tomorrow would be different for once and I wish I had some milk and cookies or I wish I smoked so I would have something to do to help me relax and maybe I should go for a drive and … ah fuck it. My mind is running a marathon. My nerves are buzzing like they’re wired to a car battery. Christ, I need to do something… at least to make me feel like I have a purpose.

…So I start writing. “It seems like for the past week and a half or so, blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah.” Seriously …Nobody cares… This is all just my narcissistic delusion of grandeur, that I’m feeling something that nobody has ever felt before (or maybe everyone’s felt it and couldn’t explain it) and maybe if I can get it all out and articulate it on paper I’ll make some grand kind of statement about life and people will think that I’ve figured it all out and they’ll respect me more for it in the morning, right? Right? Isn’t that how it works? That’s why we write, isn’t it?

Sure it is, Andrew. Sure it is. You just go on and write, darling, and you’ll be self-righteous and philosophical and full of wisdom and you’ll let everyone know it, I’m sure. Fuck you, you self-serving, egotistical, cocky bastard.

…And so I keep writing…

I am laying awake in Cunningham Hall at Mount Union College, a small school in Eastern Ohio. Why are you even here? How did I end up here? I don’t even know, really. A blind choice, I guess, but it worked out and I am, for the most part, happy here. I stay busy. I feel needed and appreciated and like an important part of the workings of the world, which is what everyone really wants, isn’t it? It’s late and I’m particularly full of shit sentimental and morose tonight… more than usual, at any rate.

My roommate is fast asleep, long since passed out. I should be so lucky. I watch the wedge of fluorescent light that bleeds in from the hallway through the crack underneath the door. I wonder who is still awake. At 4:00 A.M., everything is silent, save for the whirring of the room’s heater and the occasional soft tap of slippers or sandals or bare feet on the hard green and tan tile floor… someone must have to piss or must be thirsty or must be pulling an all-nighter. Maybe I’m the only one awake in this building. Maybe I’m the only one still awake on this entire campus. Maybe I’m the only person awake in the entire world…

My mind is scattering itself all over the place like ducks and I’m not making anysense at all anymore to anyone not even to myself and you probably don’t understand me either. I know I forgot to put a space between those two words back there but fuck off, I like it and I think it looks innovative and I’m not going back and changing it.

I’m the only person still awake…That’s a strange thought to consider, isn’t it? That everyone but you is right now dreaming about happiness or death or fucking or falling or the girl they’ve been trying to get in bed for the past two weeks, but you’re sitting here, steeped in your own self-pity and apathy and trying to figure out where it all went wrong and feeling like there’s no answer to any of your questions and wishing you could just fucking get it right for once. Just once, you wish you could do something right, for Christ’s sake.

Stop it. Get over it. For the last time, go to sleep, you stupid, sentimental bastard.

Here I am, in college, a privilege that most people only dream of but I take for granted. I’m an asshole. What about the people who dreamed of going and getting an “education” but couldn’t? What about the people working late nights on the graveyard shift, as I have so many times? What are they doing? Are they mopping floors, cleaning up other peoples’ shit? Are they waiting tables at all-night diners and serving strong coffee to big-rig drivers at truck stops? Are they watching TV and reading? Are they sleeping?

Why the fuck do I even care? Maybe it’s that I’ve worked in places with people like this, and I guess maybe, in some ways, I can sympathize with them. But look, I’m in fucking college, something that neither of my parents got to do, a point that is, for the most part, irrelevant, but it makes me feel like my presence is here is justified. I guess that maybe I’m just still too connected to my roots to fully forget about everyone else, which is another strange feeling, isn’t it?

How, in all of your infinite wisdom, do you reconcile the fact that there are people worse off than you, worrying about bills, mortgages, feeding the kids, and staying employed, while you’re here laying awake in the dorm room of your expensive private college, bitching and moaning and beating the shit out of yourself because your high-school sweetheart finally decided to call it quits? I’m goddamn pathetic, and I apologize for that. I guess that maybe I’m just self-centered. Actually, I know I’m self-centered... It was one of her motives for her decision to finally let me go. Hundreds of thousands of relationships end every day for hundreds of thousands of reasons, and I’m sure that hundreds of thousands of terminated relationships are more devastating than mine. I’m just an egotistical asshole, I guess, and I can’t escape the feeling that people have a duty to fucking care about me. They do, don’t they?

…..Maybe not.

Ah, I’ve allowed myself to ramble. So, anyways, what about those other people who are still awake?

What about the doctors on call who are awoken from their sleep at 3:30 A.M. because some 17-year old Jane Doe coming home from a friend’s house was hit by a drunk driver and needs immediate medical attention? What are their lives like? What do they think about as they rush to get dressed and then speed all the way to the hospital to do what they can to save this girl’s life? What do they do afterwards? Does the girl survive? Does she make it? Is this the ending to her story?

What about the pregnant woman somewhere who goes into labor at quarter after four? What thoughts are going through her head as she’s on the way to have her first, second, third child? What about the people who are sleeping soundly and peacefully in their beds? I wonder what they’re dreaming. I wonder what stories they have to tell and what stories they tell themselves every day in order to live.

What about people who may just be getting up, getting ready to go to work in jobs they hate but are endlessly trapped in? What about people who love their jobs? What makes the difference? Is it money? If that’s true, then money equals happiness… is that the kind of world we live in? Is that the kind of world I want to live in? Jesus, I don’t know…. Is it success? What is success? Is success gaining the respect of your neighbors, having a perfect wife and perfect kids and little pink houses for you and me? Maybe success is just being able to do what you want to do. If that’s the case, why can’t I be successful? Why can’t I do what I want to do? …I know why… it’s much easier to whine about everything that’s wrong than it is to get off my ass and do something about it.

…What about the people in other parts of the world, other parts of the country, other parts of the state, other parts of town? What are the intricacies of their lives, how do they construct meaning out of their existence? In what do they believe? What do they live for? What are other people dying for?

What about me?

………..I do not know.

What I do know is that I can’t fucking sleep, and it’s frustrating me and pissing me off.

Tonight, as I lay awake in the dark, I confront myself, my soul, my spirit, my demons. All of them come upon me like wolves creeping in for the kill. Every night seems to be the same. Every night, I lay awake and think about my past, present, and future: where I was, where I am, and where I am going. Every night, I end up feeling the same – clueless, confused, disappointed, and anxious for something to happen, for anything to happen. For something to be meaningful, for something to be unexpected, for something to be spontaneous and crazy and unplanned and invigorating and… Jesus…. I just want to do something.

You know… I’m just fucking confused, and I don’t know how I should handle myself.

Tonight, as I toss and turn like an experienced insomniac, I think about human relationships – their beginnings as well as their ends. I think about each and every relationship that I’ve been in. For some reason, I think about middle school. I think about my first relationships. Things used to be so much easier then.

"Amanda doesn't want to go out with you anymore," Courtney told me on a warm day in late October.
"Okay," I said, as I ran away, feigning hurt and seeking pity.

Three weeks go by.

"Courtney doesn't want to go out with you anymore," Amanda told me on chilly day in November.
"Okay," I said as I ran away, feigning hurt and seeking pity.

Every breakup was always the same. Simple. Beautiful. Heartbreaking in that puppy-love kind of way that only a 14-year-old can understand and that we all lose once we experience true heartbreak for the first time. We can look back now and say that we were stupid and childish and immature, but that’s because we don’t understand anymore. We laugh it off and pretend it’s meaningless now, but it wasn’t, it never will be, and there’s no way we’ll ever be able to understand it……..

…I’ve started rambling again…

At any rate, those times were happy and simple, and maybe that’s my point. I have my memories of my adolescence, and at times like this, I pull out the happier ones and parade them around in lock-step lines to cheer myself up and remind me of how things used to be, how I used to feel, and how I want to feel again. Maybe we all do this… maybe each of us is prone to thinking of happier times when we mourn…

Oh, Jesus, don’t let me fall into this. It’s a trap! You’re supposed to think about the past and fall into a pit of introspection and reflection and self-pity and warm, fuzzy memories. Goddammit, if you do this you’re going to look at how you felt as a painful reminder of how good things were instead of as a guide to how to feel again…

***

O, teenage summertime! In those days, you celebrated your one week anniversary by walking to get an ice cream cone and maybe, if you were lucky, you stole a kiss in the hedges or the shed or in the dark when nobody else was watching. If you lasted longer than two weeks, things were serious. You weren't in it for love; you weren't in it for emotional fulfillment or sexual gratification. You were in it because life was easy, life was fun, and you didn't have anything else to do. You were in it because you were newly pubescent; you were feeling new feelings and trying new things and you were immortal and nothing could stop you from life.

You were in it because you were drawn to one another in a way that you had never felt before. You knew that something inherently special was happening, but you couldn’t exactly explain it. You still can’t explain it. In many ways, you don’t want to explain it. To explain things like this is to oversimplify them. To oversimplify them is to reduce them to something that doesn’t even come close to doing justice to the absolute beauty of the original situation, and you wouldn’t dare vandalize your memories like that.

You were in it for the long summer days when you rode your bikes around the neighborhood in the hot sun, ate popsicles and ice cream sandwiches on the back porch while they melted and made your fingers and hands sticky; for the nights that you sat at the side of the pool at dusk, exhausted from swimming for the entire day and listening to the radio blast the songs of summer… singing along, enjoying life, enjoying each other, enjoying being young, foolish, and ignorant. Most importantly, you enjoyed being, for the first time in your long 13 years of life, genuinely and unconditionally happy.

You were in it because you wanted to be. You were in it because you had to be. You didn’t realize it then, and you don’t fully grasp it now, but those days built you. It is true to say that those days are your past, but you often fail to realize that those days are also your present and your future, and to convince yourself otherwise is to do yourself a great injustice.

Certain bands and songs characterized that summer, and even as you hear them today, your mind immediately snaps back to those times and you are, for a moment, as genuinely happy-go-lucky as you once were. Sixpence None the Richer, Third Eye Blind, Eagle Eye Cherry, Sugar Ray, Barenaked Ladies… the list goes on and on. Some of the bands that you loved were one hit wonders, but you still dust off your old CD’s sometimes and give them a listen. Somehow, you always know which song you need to hear and you sing along, loudly and off-key, just like always.

During that summer, every sensory perception became seemingly more vivid. The smell of freshly cut grass will forever remind you of that summer, because you lived outside, and somewhere a lawnmower was always running. The smell of grass and gasoline was ever-present around you. You ran through backyards with wet, bare, feet and the grass clumped around your legs and stuck between your toes. The feeling of your bare, calloused feet walking on the smooth painted yellow lines on the hot asphalt road, because you had figured out that the lines were much cooler than the rest of the road. The feeling of your feet squishing into the black tar patches that were put into the cracks and potholes.

The haze of heat mixed with the unmistakable smell of gasoline. The musty smell of the old house that you broke into until it was sold and new owners moved in. You went in through a window that wasn’t locked, and you pretended. You lived out your entire adult lives together. You pretended that it was haunted and you could see ghosts. Sometimes, you still think you did.

You were in it for the silly games you played once it got dark. Hide and seek. Capture the flag. Just running around and chasing each other until you fall to the ground, grass staining your bare knees, dirt smudging your face, and laughing until it hurts.

You were in it to sleep outside on the grass under the stars so you could sneak off to the girl's house once it got dark and everyone was asleep so you could explore each other until dawn when her father wakes up for work and you have to sneak away through the woods so he doesn’t catch you.

You were in it to leave your shoes and socks in the shade on the cold, damp grass while you waded through the streams in the woods, feeling your feet slip and slide over the slimy algae-covered rocks. You were in it to hide under bridges and talk, to sit by the lake behind the house, to play grown-up games, to dream about futures growing old together, to think that nothing would ever change and you would be this happy forever.

You were in it because you were young, naïve, and stupid. You were in it because it felt right, because you were happy, because it made sense, and because you didn’t want anything else. You couldn’t imagine anything better, because you didn’t want to. You didn’t need to. You wouldn’t dare to.

You were in it because you were irresponsible. You were irresponsible because you had no real responsibilities. No kids, no bills, no mortgages. Carefree.

You were in it, because that was your life. That was everything.

***

…Those are my memories, and tonight, I fall back on them, against my better judgment. But why? Maybe it’s that I never really grew up. Maybe I’m like Peter Pan and these memories are my Neverland, where every possibility is a reality and everything carries the weight and burden of being infinite.

Maybe this is human nature. Jesus, does everyone do this? Oh, Christ, now I’ve done it. I always pledged to never fall for the same traps that everyone else finds themselves ensnared in, because I always thought I was better than that, smarter than that… that’s the egotistical asshole in me talking again. Oh shit, maybe I’m human after all…

So I guess the conclusion I’m coming to is that all of us do this. We all have these memories that we’ve willfully and almost delusionally forced to become, for us, the epitome of happiness. We’ve filtered out the impurities and cleansed them of anything that is distinctly not joyous, so that we have a point of reference for the rest of our lives…

***

In short, those memories are what you think of when times get bad.

Those are the days that you remember more than anything. Those are the days you think of after you break off relationships, after you have a rough week, after you’re fired from your job. Those are the places you go back to when you have nowhere else to turn. Those are the days that you think of when you come home early to find your wife in bed with another man. Those memories of being young and free-spirited are what you think of in your prison cell after the bars click home, the lights go out, and everything seems bleaker than ever.

Those are the days you think of when you're standing at the top of the bridge while police shout at you from the ground and helicopters circle around you while you’re watching the dark water churn below, looking for the courage to step off and the reasons not to. Those are the times that you think of as you're leaning out of your 18th story window, and those are the memories that frantically fly through your head while the street below rushes to meet you.

Those are the days, those are the memories, that help you through the hard times. The people, whom you haven't seen for years, are nothing more than the ghosts that get caught in the spider webs, fighting, against their better judgment, to escape. What are they doing today? You don’t know, and in a lot of ways, you don’t want to. You hate to acknowledge it, but it’s nice to be ignorant of reality, because that way you can keep your utopian, idealistic views of the people in your memories and you don’t have to face the fact that they, like you, have grown and changed.

They don’t just come during the bad times though. Those are also the days that you think of during your best times. Those are the days you remember right before you propose to the woman who will be your wife. Those are the places to which your mind wanders during your wedding. Those are the memories you think of while you're standing on the beach at sunset, looking out over the endless ocean while the waves roll over your feet and splash up around your ankles and the sun is grand but fading and you could live here forever and never want a single thing but this…

Those were the days when things were simple.

They are not simple anymore.

***

Now, the hurt is real. I no longer want pity from anyone. I just want to make the best I can with the reality of the situation, and to have everyone understand my reasons, my actions, and my intentions. I guess that’s the best I can hope for.

Tonight, I think about the fresh start, whenever that may come. I think about the opportunities ahead. I think about my present. I think about my gifts and my blessings. I understand.

Late at night, life is clear. Maybe it's because this is the only time of day when I can clear my mind enough to truly think. Maybe it's because I'm caught in the state between asleep and awake, and every dark corner of my mind is illuminated.

I can finally see that this is how life is. Life is a cycle of beginnings and endings, some at random, others staged, others accidental. Nothing happens because it is simply "meant to be." People enter and leave the dramatic plot of your life like actors on a stage doing what the script tells them. Relationships are broken at the end of the first scene, and new ones are forged in the second. Who knows what the third will bring?

At any rate, you must see the drama through. You start, you finish, you try, and you survive. You can't sleep, so you write, so you smoke, so you listen to the incessant tick-ticking of your watch; you lay awake, tossing and turning, watching the wedge of light under the door waiting for a bomb to drop or a meteor to hit or an earthquake to split your room in two and leave you stretched across the chasm, fighting for handholds. You want a life or death situation so you can know that you're alive, so that you can feel the blood coursing and pulsing and rushing through your veins and so you can move forward knowing that your time is limited and that you should do something, anything while you can.

“Carpe diem,” they say. Sometimes, that’s easier said than done.

You want to play chicken with a train. You want to see those tons of steel and machinery plowing forward towards you, knowing that it’s not going to stop and wait for you to move and that it can end you if it, and you, wants to. You want the reassurance that you have something to live for, and you want the reassurance that you’ll be able to sidestep it at the last second and live a fuller, more meaningful life afterwards.

You want to be able to see your own ending, if only for a second. Your mind wanders. You think, you reflect, and you learn. In a lot of ways, you need this pain to force you into this kind of situation where you are forced to make a decision about who you really are and where you go from here and how you get on. But then again, that’s life. Some days you understand why things are the way they are, and some days you don't. You look, you seek, you find, you love, you hate, you desire, you lust, you sin, you anger.

In short, you live.

***

Una man sola mi risana e punge... Tanto dalla salute mia son lunge.

Or che ‘l ciel e la terra e l’ vento tace

Or che ‘l ciel e la terra e ‘l vento tace,
E le fere e gli augelli il sonno affrena,
Notte il carro stellato in giro mena,
E nel suo letto il mar senz’onda giace;
Vegghio, penso, ardo, piango; e chi mi sface
Sempre m’è innanzi per mia dolce pena:
Guerra è il mio stato, d’ira e di duol piena;
E sol di lei pensando ho qualche pace.

Così sol d’una chiara fonte viva
Move ‘l dolce e l’amaro ond’io mi pasco;
Una man sola mi risana e punge.
E perchè ‘l mio martir non giunga a riva,
Mille volte il dì moro e mille nasco;
Tanto dalla salute mia son lunge.


(Now that the sky and earth and wind are still

Now that the sky and earth and wind are still,
And beasts and birds are stayed by sleep,
Night leads her starry chariot on its round,
And without waves the sea lies in its bed;
I am awake, I think, I burn, I weep; and she who is my undoing
Is ever before me to my sweet pain:
War is my state, full of wrath and grief;
And only in thinking of her do I have some peace.

Thus from the same clear living spring
Flow the sweet and the bitter on which I feed;
One hand alone heals me and stabs me.
And so that my martyrdom may not reach the shore,
A thousand times a day I die and a thousand I am born;
So far away am I from my salvation.
-Francesco Petrarca

"You will percieve that such a view of the world presents difficulties. I have trouble making certain connections. I have trouble maintaining the basic notion that keeping promises matters in a world where everything I was taught seems beside the point. The point itself seems increasingly obscure."

-Joan Didion, In the Islands

Forget about all the memories that keep you down, forget about them we can lose them in the sparkle and fade.

Smith: Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something? For more that your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love . You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can't win. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?

Neo: Because I choose to.

Well, to put things simply, after last night's colossal explosion, Kindall and I are over. For good. No longer "on a break," but over. This is what she wants, and I have no choice but to respect that. Maybe eventually, I'll be up to writing an epilogue to the past 3 1/2 years, but for right now, I just want to say a few things.

I do not harbor any negative feelings toward my ex, nor am I going to bad mouth her here. I also am not trying to turn everyone against her. Please keep that in mind.

Kindall wants to still be friends. I would be fine with this, if it weren't easier said than done. Perhaps she is able to go from a 3 1/2 year relationship where we both were terribly intimate and comfortable with each other to "just being friends." I, however, am not able to do that. That isn't saying that I don't want to be friends eventually. That's saying that right now, I need to get over her and move on, and in order to do that, I won't be seeing her except in passing. I do want to be friends with her, but I am realistic enough to see the impossibility of that just happening immediately. Perhaps down the line, that will be possible. It will depend on several factors.

What does this mean to everyone else at Mount? What this means is that you most likely won't be seeing much of me. Please do not take this the wrong way. This is the way that things have to be. I want you all to know that I love you very much, and just because I'm not around as much doesn't mean that we're not friends. I hope you can understand. Right now, I need to get over Kindall, and I would never put any of you in the position of making you choose between me and her. That's not the way things should be, and I'm sorry that things turned out this way. Please don't take this out on her. It's not entirely her fault.

The reason that we broke up is far too complex to detail here. It's far too complex to understand, in many ways. Part of it was problems with "me" and problems with "her", and part was problems with "me and her." These problems, in my opinion, could have been resolved had we dealt with them as they arose, or before they arose when possible. However, due to the fact that both of us were too stubborn to concede, we didn't. Instead, we came up with temporary solutions that worked for a week at most. Then we were back to the same stupid games. While I will admit that part of this is my fault, I will not say that she is blameless.

Each of us views this situation differently, and I think that the outlook is the key. She seems to think that all of the problems are with me. While I do have significant problems that do need addressing, it is foolish to assume that all of the problems with our relationship find thier source in my shortcomings. There were just as many problems with her, but I looked over them. She claims that I was "abusive" in that I was controlling and selfish, but she failed to realize that there were times when she was downright mean to me for no reason. I ignored it. I didn't make a big deal of it. I put up with it. And I was still happy. Why is this? Was it that my love outweighed any negative thing she could have done? Was it that I was just too naive? Was it that I felt she was justified in doing these things? No. It's that I always saw a brighter day. I always saw happiness on the horizon, if both of us would make it happen. I always had a sense that we could overcome anything that was thrown at us, if we would only resolve to do it.

She claims that I could have been better to her. That's true, and I'll admit it. I could have been better to her. In retrospect, there are a million different things that I would do if I could only go back and do them. I understand that I could have been better to her, but that's not the point. She could have been better to me in so many ways, and I'm not sure that she understands that and is willing to accept that. I'm not the only one who thinks that, either. Someone very close to me who had a front row seat to all of this told me so, and I'm almost 100% sure that the person isn't just patronizing me. But once again, I stayed happy. I thought that if we could fix the problems, all of it would be worth it. The operative word in that last statement is "we." Just having me fix my own life and my own problems wouldn't have been enough.

In a lot of ways, nothing I did ever seemed good enough. In a lot of ways, nothing is ever good enough for her. In all honesty, there are only a few things that I ever did in the relationship that I felt truly proud of, because I got the credit for doing them that I deserved. There were only a few things that I thought were truly appreciated. Maybe a large part of why I stopped doing things is because at one point, they stopped being appreciated. I do think that can be terribly ungrateful at times, and I've said that to her before. It is very difficult to continue in a relationship where you pretty consistently feel like you're never good enough, like nothing you ever do will be good enough, and where you feel like nothing you do is ever appreciated. She said to me tonight, in an effort to rationalize the breakup, "If you abuse a dog, it doesn't come back home." Well, that's true, in some cases. I don't know what this says about me, but I kept coming back, and when I asked her to stop abusing me, she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to do it. And so we part ways.

I may have done a lot of things wrong, but I did equally as many or more things right. The same goes for her. It's all about where you place your focus. Are you going to let the negatives make you absolutely miserable, or the positives make you absolutely happy? Or are you just looking for excuses to prove something to yourself?

When I am ready to love again, whoever it may be, I will have learned a lot from the past 3 1/2 years. I will take something away, and I will not make the same mistakes again. And one day, somewhere down the line, I think that she may realize how good she really had it with me, and I'll be gone. I never physically abused her. I never cheated on her. And I never intentionally wronged her. She provided me with the same courtesy. It takes an almost superhuman quality to put up with a lot of the things that I tolerated, and I did almost all of it without batting an eyelash. Maybe when she realizes that, we can talk. Maybe when she's ready to examine her own life under the same microscope that I've been examining my own under, we can talk. Maybe when she's willing to make a relationship work, we can talk. Hopefully, I won't be spoken for.

Until then, we're just acquaintences. Maybe someday, we'll be able to be friends.

Everything that has a beginning, has an end.

I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me, but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst. And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.



A.

¿Yo que te quiero tanto, que voy a hacer? Me dejaste... me dejaste como una paloma.

I imagine that right now you're feeling a bit like Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole.

What do you do when even your best intentions somehow go to shit and you feel like your life and subsequent relationships are falling apart like an ancient stone building in an earthquake? What do you do when you wake up to find yourself standing in the middle of a pile of rubble that is what was once your life, love, memories, dreams, hopes, and desires? Do you rebuild, or build anew?

Consider that the building was once beautiful, solid, and strong. Nothing could shake it, and not even the most powerful earthquake could shake its foundation. Had an atomic bomb struck or nuclear war erupted, the building would be the sole standing edifice left amidst a landscape of destruction. Recently, however, the building has fallen into disarray and disrepair. The insidious seed of doubt has worked its sneaky way in and rotted the building from the inside out, destroying the foundation and all that was once good about it. The tenants have failed to keep the building clean, and it will need a lot of work to become inhabitable again.

However, the building still has the capacity for greatness. It still has the potential to be all that it once was and more. It still has the ability to defy the odds and rise again to greatness.

Knowing all of this, do you rebuild, or do you start anew? That, Hamlet, is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing, end them.

I think that much of tonight's events stem from two main problems which, in my opinion, shouldn't have been: A misunderstanding and a good intention gone awry.

I know that over the past few days, I have posted a lot in here about what I'm feeling and whether I want to get back together or part ways and see other people. I have waivered back and forth. For a period of time, I was almost convinced that I was over her and ready to move on and start the process of building a new relationship.

I was mistaken.

Tuesday, we were so close to getting back together. Then, between yesterday and today, I fucked everything up. Tonight, I really did have good intentions. My intentions, however, exploded all over the place, due in part to a combination of past negative experiences and, in my opinion, one colossal misunderstanding which tainted everything and which wasn't discovered until it was far too late and the situation was entirely out of control and no longer salvagable, despite all of my best efforts.

Tonight, everything may be over. I have, in a pattern that is all too recurring in my life, dug myself into a hole that I will never be able to fill. My only escape will be complete forgiveness, and I'm not really sure how likely that is. I've said far too much tonight, and seriously flew off the handle for the first time in a long time. I ended up walking to Payless Shoes to cool off, which is around a mile away. That's a guess.

And to think that I had so many opportunities to avoid this incident. I could have gone to Mercyhurst with Jesse and Sage, but no, I planned on getting work done. I could have stayed at the Theatre house or gone to shoot pool with those guys, but no, I had to think that a nice gesture of reconciliation and mending long-broken fences in good faith would be a smart move. I could have ignored the situation, but no, I had to want to make a move at fixing things. May the foolishness of unrestrained and unconditional love be damned.

Why, oh why, didn't I take the blue pill?

All I wanted to do was make a move to show that I was serious about fixing this relationship and reparing problems as opportunities arise. Things didn't work out that way.

I think that one recurring theme in my life is that I can never have anything good that works out. If I don't fuck it up, it's taken away from me against my will or without my control. Nothing seems to work out, and maybe that's just life. I feel like I'm grossly misunderstood in far too many ways, which causes far too much tension and far too many problems. Maybe this is just my life, and maybe this is just my problem, and maybe there will never be a solution.

I just feel like nothing that I do is ever worth it or appreciated. Maybe it's that I'm not appreciative of everything that other people do for me. I feel like a terrible person because of some of the stuff that was said to me tonight. Maybe I am. I feel like I'm spinning out of control because of some of the things I did tonight. Maybe I am. I don't know. I try really hard to be a good person and do the right thing. So many times, though, what I think is the right thing goes horribly wrong and leaves me on the floor, crying and hoping for something better.

Is there something better? Is this it? Have I ruined it all?

Will my questions ever be answered?

Who knows.


A.

I don't know what was with me when I woke up.

I might have been dreaming about something. All I know is that I woke up feeling generally uneasy and disappointed. I hope that doesn't set the tone for the day, but so far, so good.

Today, I feel like a high tension electrical wire, and fully charged. I'm not sure what feeling it is, but it feels like a combination of tension, anxiety, and nervousness. I don't usually get ilke this, and it is kind of scary. The feeling surges throughout my body, and I literally can feel it resounding in my chest cavity and moving through my appendages - fingers, toes, head, lips, everything. It's like a tingling, numb feeling. My heart feels like it's beating very fast. I feel like I'm full of electricity. Maybe it's the strong coffee that I drank this morning. Then again, maybe it's a heart attack. In more senses of the word than just the medical condition.

I don't know. I'm just trying to take this as it comes, but it is tough, and I am having trouble. It really does help me though to write everything that I'm feeling here. If I seem redundant, then too bad. Stop reading.

I think I'm in the middle of a full-blown, Kierkegaardian existential crisis, at least to my understanding of it. More to come about this later.

A.

How depressing is it when you wake up with just an overall sense of down-ness, like you have a lot of different scenarios in which you'll be happy, but you're not quite sure that none of them are ever going to work out the way you want them to?

I feel like I'm losing confidence.

Well the night does funny things inside a man, these old tomcat feelings you don't understand.

From Total Eclipse, by Annie Dillard:

“The clamoring mind and heart stilled, almost indifferent, certainly disembodied, frail, and exhausted.”

“The mind wants to live forever, or to learn a very good reason why not. The mind wants the world to return its love, or its awareness; the mind wants to know all the world, and all eternity, and God. The mind’s sidekick, however, will settle for two eggs over easy.”

Today, was, for the most part, fairly unremarkable - at least in comparison to the past several days.

For the most part, it was similar to yesterday: ups, downs, and an unhealthy amount of confusion about my life, my wants, my desires, and my needs. Rehearsals are going progressively better - tonight's rehearsal was the best we've done, and I think that most of us are having a blast. I am, at least.

After rehearsal, I went over to the theatre house to hang out and play cards. That's basically all that we did, and it was nice to relax and just hang out, even though I had stuff to do. I was there until around 1:00 when I decided that responsibility, while able to be postponed, unfortunately cannot always be entirely erased and ignored.

I took a pretty long shower, and I'm pretty sure that I spaced out for a good portion of it. I was thinking about a lot of things, and, as I'm sure you'll guess, my answers remain absent. Times like this frustrate me more than just about anything else.

I think that a large part of what I'm feeling is the sense of detachment that comes with any breakup, but is probably more noticable in a breakup after a long relationship. It's like, for the past 3 1/2 years, you've felt this bond, this sense of attachment, this closeness to another person. Then, with 6 short words ("I think we need a break,") it's gone. The love (presumably) is still there, but the ties are cut. The bonds are either dissolved or weakened to the point of invisibility. I don't know if this is just me or not. I imagine that there are others with the same feelings, but like I said, I don't know.

I have also been thinking about what it is that causes us to feel this need to have at least some semblance of emotional attachment to another person. Is it human nature? Is it, like many cliché sayings go and many writers theorize, that we are by nature incomplete, and we spend a large part of our life, a great deal of our energy, and much emotional anguish seeking our "other half"? Or do we just need someone to relate to, to talk to, to comfort, and to comfort us? Of course, we need others to ensure the continuation of our species, but the bonds that are formed and the needs that are fulfilled, in my opinion, run much deeper than that. At any rate, I don't know, and therefore, I speculate just as much as everyone else on the planet who has, at one point or another, had these same thoughts.

I will say, and I hope this is true, that I think things are getting better. However, as Bob Dylan says, "The times, they are a-changing." I can't argue with the man.

A.

Sing and dance I play for you tonight, the thrill of it all. Dark clouds may hang on me sometimes, but I work it out.

Seinfeld Wisdom:

Jerry: Elaine, breaking up is like knocking over a Coke machine. You can't do it in one push. You have to rock it back and forth a few times and then it goes over.
George: ... That is beautiful.

Today was a strange day, but lately, that seems to be the norm, doesn't it? Mostly up, but a few down points. Still a lot of confusion.

I skipped my first class because I woke up and wasn't feeling too hot, so I went back to sleep for an additional hour. It's almost show week, and the last thing that I want right now is to be getting sick. At any rate, the extra hour of sleep was nice, even if it meant that my day was "Price"less.

I missed Dr. Price's class.

That does kind of upset me, because I generally enjoy his classes. I feel like I learn a lot in them.


I don't know if it was the extra hour of sleep or what, but all day long, I had a very high level of energy and general happiness. I felt giddy for most of the day, and rehearsal was amazing. I love when a show is coming together, and this one is coming together very nicely. Also, I feel like I'm getting to know more of the cast, and that's always nice as well.

I've been feeling generally confused about my relationship situation.
I don't know what I want. I don't know whether I want to go back or not. I know all of this sounds very teenage angst-y, and I wish it didn't, but quite frankly, I don't know how I do/should feel coming off of a relationship of 3 1/2 years.

I don't think that at this point, I want to "see other people," but what I do feel like I want to do is to go out and meet someone new that I can just talk to. I'm very aware that I'm "on the rebound" so to speak, and therefore I'm very wary about any kind of relationship. I don't think that I'm ready for a new relationship, and like I've said a million times before, I don't know if that's what I want. But I do think that it would be nice to just go out and talk to someone and get to know someone new. Just make small talk and chat, that's all. I don't even care if it goes anywhere, and I'm not sure that I want it to. I just want to have fun.

Summary: I have no idea what I want.

Other than classes and Pirates of Penzance, there isn't really much else going on. I'm ready for the weekend. I'm hoping that I'll be able to hang out with the cast some more this weekend. One of the things that I have always loved about doing a show is the bond that forms between the cast. It is, in fact, quite a strong bond, and it has happened in every show that I've ever done, from 8th grade when I was in MASH and 42nd Street to today, 7 years later. Every cast, over the course of the time spent blocking, rehearsing, polishing, and performing, becomes a family. Every cast, in my experience at least, has been unforgettable.

That's all for now.

Ta,
A.

Nobody's up except the moon and me, and a lazy old tomcat on a midnight spree.

From Women and Honor: Some Notes on Lying by Adrienne Rich:

"Men have been expected to tell the truth about facts, not about feelings. They have not been expected to talk about feelings at all.

Yet even about facts they have continually lied."

"An honorable human relationship - that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word, "love" - is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other.

It is important to do this because it breaks down human self-delusion and isolation.

It is important to do this because in so doing we do justice to our own complexity.
It is important to do this because we can count on so few people to go that hard way with us."

Today I was planning on waking up around 10:00 so that I could do some reading for Politics of the Former Soviet Union before class. However, after banging my alarm clock(s) to silence multiple times, I slept until the latest possible moment before waking up. Therefore, at 11:35 I was scrambling to get dressed for my 11:45 class. Hence, I wore a hat all day.

During class, I was having a difficult time paying attention. My skin felt strange, almost like it was "crawling," for lack of a better and less cliché term. I felt restless, uneasy, and fidgety. I couldn't think. I felt like I had lost motivation.

I knew that I would get over it, but I hate the feeling regardless. The feeling of apathy, of contempt, of disappointment.

I had been planning on either going to campus grounds for lunch, or going alone, as Kindall and I usually went to lunch together on Tuesdays and Thursdays. As I was walking out of class, she called my cell phone, and it was only by sheer chance that I had just stuck my hand into my jacket pocket to look for my keys and felt my phone vibrating. She asked if I wanted to go to lunch. I said that I guessed so.

Things were kind of cold for a while. Tension.

We started talking. After lunch, we went back to her room and talked some more. We talked about everything that had been bothering both of us, and everything that was going to have to take place in order for our relationship to ever work. In short, we actually had a civil discussion where each of us saw the other's side without arguing it or getting defensive. In short, we did exactly what I had suggested we do as an alternative to the break/break-up.

But I am not claiming a victory. Rather, the contrary. Had we not broken up/been on a break, I don't think that this talk would have been possible. So let this be my admission that I was Wrong. Had we still been officially "dating" and tried to have that talk, we both would have been defensive and stubborn. We even talked politics, so something must have been going right.

At any rate, savor that admission, because it doesn't come very often.

On another note, rehearsal tonight went very well. We are getting to the point in any show where three fundamental things are happening:

• Everything is coming together, things are getting cleaned up, and the show is turning into a show
• Some people are getting sick of other people, because the show is stressing them out
• Everyone is starting to actually get to know the rest of the cast, and we're forming a special kind of bond that only happens in theatre. Suffice it to say, we're actually starting to have fun with it.

The cast is amazing, and I'm having an amazing time. This is the first show I've done in a little under 2 years, and oh, how I've missed it.

With that said, it's time to hit the bed.

Adieu.

A.