been too long since I was on here and will neeed to visit it more often
catch up on some old comments and look up new comments
all about the tattoos and memories
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Last time I drunkenly opened my laptop to write, I vomited an entry full of self-pity. It was pathetic, which was an honest reflection of how I felt at that point. I felt disconnected, disjointed, forgotten, and alone.
And now I drunkenly open my laptop to write once more. This night, much like the last, was a disappointment. I expected fabulous adventures with legendary events. Nothing spectacular happened. But this time around, I don't mind. If you were to ask me my favourite part of tonight, I would say it was the pre-game when we were all sitting in my friend's living room, taking turns on his laptop to pick a song on Youtube. We put on our best Billy Joe Armstrong impressions and sang Good Riddance (Time of Your Life). We linked arms and sang Swing Life Away. We air guitared to old school Billy Talent. All was well.
I am just so glad that things feel wonderful again. I am glad to not feel alone. I am grateful to feel like I am part of something.
Silverstein, Pig Destroyer, Phoenix, and Tool totally ROCK oh whoops -
wrong thread there. Getting bit THREADBARE in my Alzheimers...
What I meant to say (ahem...) :
if you want to go with ACTIVE NIHILISM, fine. Go for it. It's a free country.
Go ahead and re-live endless iterations of your life over and over.
Affirm your own indomitable will and love meaninglessness in an amoral universe forevermore. Great. Good luck and best wishes.
On the other hand, if there is a Hell, you will be "up the creek", possibly for eternity. It is harder to be an active nihilist there...and what goes on in that place in no way detracts from the goodness of Almighty God.
So uhhhm - read the New Testament before you throw yourself into the abyss.
And please keep up the excellent commentary on all our favorite songs ☻
I woke up today feeling sad in a light, airy way. I dreamed of my friend who passed away about two months ago. In the first half of the dream, it was the day before his death and I was trying to warn him to be careful, trying to make him understand that he was loved and we would miss him. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "I have seen it, and tomorrow, you're going to hang yourself," I said. He didn't believe me. Even he thought it was unthinkable.
Part two of the dream was bittersweet. It was after his death. He appeared in my room. "Oh my gosh, I have so much to tell you!" I said excitedly. "I can't believe you're dead. You're such an idiot. I am so mad at you for not staying here with us. Guess what song they played at your funeral? Yeah, Kelly Clarkson! I was laughing during the service. Leave it up to you to troll me one last time." We talked and discussed things as if they weren't as serious as they were. "I want to hug you, but I don't know if I can feel you," I told him. He said sadly, "I don't know if I am anything but negative space, but you can try." I could. He laid down on my bed, and I rested my head on his chest. "I miss you," I said. When my mom and sister walked in, it was as if he was never there.
I do miss him a lot. Sometimes I see something funny and I want to send it to him. Sometimes I want to call him out of the blue to tell him about the guy I'm seeing ("You wouldn't be-LIEVE how good he is at volleyball!" I would say; he would answer, "Like how good?!"). It hurts for me to think about, so sometimes I just don't.
Besides this, though, I had a wonderful day. I had a class then studied. I wrote my midterm and feel like I got a B or higher. After my exam, I met up with Adam, the boy I'm officially seeing now. We went to a nearby cafe and had lasagna. He traced his thumb on the back of my hand and I made him laugh. We only hung out for an hour, but it was lovely that we could find the time at all.
I studied with a friend for my two midterms tomorrow, then studied alone. To break up the monotony, I went to the bar for an hour to have some casual drinks with friends. And now I am here, writing about my day just in case anyone on the internet is lonely enough to care. I will study some more and then get some rest.
It's fascinating to me, how stressful this week should have been. Work, hockey, volleyball, three midterms, and essay, a group project, and regular homework. Yet I was barely phased by my workload. I guess when you have someone to share things with - little things like how nice it is outside and big things like being frightened from a dream about your friend's suicide - you don't feel as stressed. Everything just kind of feels wonderful sometimes. Today was one of those days.
So, I've decided I'm going to get on everyday that I can and post to this journal. Right now I want to listen to Buckcherry's Crazy Bitch. I love that song. "Hey you're a crazy bitch but you fuck so good I'm on top of it when I dream, I'm doin' you all night. Scratches all down my back to keep me right on...."
I once told a girl I will never forget, "I don't think people change." I told her we simply adapt to our situations, that if she had the free time she once did she'd be the same adventurous, fun loving person she once was. I whole-heartedly believed this at the time, and despite the fact she still is that fun loving person, I'm not so sure I believe it anymore.
It seems a bit juvenile but my mind changed while perusing the internet on a slow day at work. I came across a quote by an anonymous philosopher. "Change is the only constant." I was captivated by the idea. I thought about how every second in my twenty years, no matter how large or small, has shaped me into the young man I am today. I thought of these momentous (and sometimes not) occasions, and wondered how much I'd forgotten and how much had made a lasting impression.
We don't realize it in the moment, that's what I've learned since my epiphany. Only after it's happened do you know an event has changed your life.
I remember vividly being told of a family tragedy in December, 2003. I could never be the same. In those hard times I found happiness in the sunsets and the stars. They reminded of Alaska, and the relatives I would never see again.
It was years later that I officially met that incredible girl. We became such good friends because of that tragedy. I see that now. All those years ago I changed, I found beauty in the stars. Something we will always share.
One year ago, Thanksgiving weekend. I remember being so agitated, feeling frustrated and emotionally homeless. I didn't want to go back to the farm to celebrate Thanksgiving - who wants to drive a 22-hour round trip for a long weekend, only to remember how miserable and isolated the farm feels? I sure didn't. I didn't feel like the city was home, either. I felt trapped, tense, lost. At least when I lived at the farm, I could rely on forward-thinking ("Next year will be better, next year I will be somewhere else"), but when you've finally arrived at 'somewhere else' and you're still miserable, you don't know what to do.
Today. Thanksgiving weekend. Of course it would be nice to be gluttonous in my childhood home, bursting with my mother's cooking and cheap red wine. Equally wonderful is to be in the city this weekend, with weekend plans and places to be and people to see and things to do. My week of scholarly irresponsibility has condemned me to my dorm room for now, trying to catch up on the homework I've let sit. Still, though, I have plenty of opportunities for escape from research (right now: Judaistic perspectives on fertility medication); my friend and I are going to go out for coffee right away, my other friend told me to call him when I was done homework, my fridge needs to be filled with food, and I have an invite to go shopping. Tonight, my friends and I are getting together for one last bonfire. We will sit in my friend's backyard around a tiny fire, cooking marshmallows and drinking beer.
Home is a wonderful place, and instead of having zero like last year, now I have two.
a new job, and a new romantic interest.
[I didn't mean to abandon you my love, but why is it with each passing day I forget the things we had. Knowing the old me I wouldn;t want to forget. I loved you so deeply, you had my soul, now I just look at you like an old fond memory, and I hate that feeling. I still feel for you, even though it didn't work out, I never thought it would end.]
The new romantic interest in my life, is pretty amazing. He fills my void, and holds me tenderly. I just don't want my heart broken again.
I dreampt I was floating silently through space like I have so many times before. I felt no stress, no fear, no longing to be home. I felt content. It's become a trend, I feel that the only time I'm truly happy is when I'm alone. It's then that I reflect and realize just how small I am. I like this feeling very much.
It's a bit of a cliche notion, but when you come to understand how large the universe really is, it is the most humbling experience that can be felt by our species. I always imagine Apollo 11's crew looking at this planet, awestruck and unable to speak. They'd look to eachother and they wouldn't need words. They knew they'd never be able to describe it to those who haven't seen it. The detail sure, but never the feeling. Earth, from outside the atmosphere. Life enveloped in darkness. They'd take pictures and collect samples but when they return they'd yearn to leave. To see it from the outside once again.
That's what I strive to feel. That fleeting thrill followed by...enlightenment. The moment when you know you'll never be the same. When you are a witness to your own change. I would leave it all behind for this chance. If only for a moment. In that moment I would be alone, and I would be happy. And If I returned I would share the pictures, and tell the stories. My friends and family would gather round and listen close and in the end, to them, they would only be stories. It wouldn't matter, I'd have seen it, and I would be happy, and I would pine to return.
My spirits have undergone a drastic revolution. The statue of loneliness I had erected is being torched as we speak, torn down by a turn of fortunes. Oh, you say you got a real solution.
As I believe I mentioned in a previous entry, my friend dropped by last Sunday evening. He took me out for a complimentary sandwich (“Are you hungry? I know you don’t eat sometimes”) and a midnight discussion. “I’ve noticed things. You’re getting progressively worse. You seem to be falling apart. I can’t believe nobody else has paid attention to this. Are you okay?” We talked for two hours, hashing out basic things (“Oh man, they’re gonna last a month, then it will blow up in their face”) and not-so-basic things (“You can’t beat yourself up for your friend’s suicide. There’s no point. It wasn’t your fault).
From then on, I feel like things improved a little. If my behaviour was so blatantly desperate, and that reflected my inner turmoil, then it was time for a damn change. I don’t know if it was anything I specifically did, or a turn of circumstance.
On the weekend, I returned to the farm for my cousin’s wedding (I chose flying back for the wedding over flying home for Thanksgiving). Spending a cozy afternoon snuggled under a woolen blanket on a porch swing, sporting my father’s fluffy socks and with a little of month-old kittens on my lap – oh, it did me wonders. Nothing can revamp a person’s enthusiasm for life quite like being immersed in the comforts of your childhood home, especially when your childhood home is set in the secluded countryside and everything smells like earth. The silence of the country can put the wrong things in your heart back into their rightful place.
Of course, too, it was wonderful to spend time with my family. They’re good people. Going home is humbling. No matter how horribly wrong things may go here in the city, I have a place to escape to. Mom will make me a square meal, Dad will go to church on Sunday, and things will be as they always have been in my small town.
Another thing that undoubtedly ties to my drastic change of spirits – I met a boy. I will try my best to avoid mundane details (or, much more likely, the gushy garbage that I’m so inclined to write). A friend and co-worker at the restaurant said she had a friend for me and pointed him out one day on his walk to class. He came into the restaurant while I was working. I served him and found him to be delightful. He later got my number from my friend.
We went on a date last Wednesday, starting with a simple tea in a trendy café and ending at my city’s tourist hot-spot. The beauty, though, was that I brought him there in the middle of the night, when the orange lights shone off of the water and the horizon sparkled. We climbed up a structure, perched atop of it, and talked for an hour. Or two. I have no idea. He nervously admitted, “I’ve been thinking of the best way to kiss you… oh gosh, why did I say that, now this is awkward.” I laughed and kissed him first.
On Monday, we went for coffee before his choir practice. Afterwards, we watched a movie in my room and accidentally stayed up until 4am, kissing and laughing and talking. “I hope you know this is very strange for me,” I told him, “that I am not emotionally indifferent to you.” Sometimes he interrupts with an enormous smile. “What are you laughing at?” He shrugs and says, “My good fortune.”
A couple of campus friends have asked what I’m smiling about. As I relayed details to my former roommate, she jumped up and down like an excitable bird: “About time! Aghhhh it is so good to see you looking happy again!” My cheeks flush red.
When I put on Disney songs as a joke in his car, he knew the words better than I did.