Why don't I hug her?
Why can't I love her?
Criss-crossed and mis-matched
*
Joys of life
A deep inside fear
An emptiness waiting to be filled by death
*
I want to wear comfy black hoodies
I want a job which doesn't consume the fun of life everywhere in my body
I want independence from family & friends
I want a trim haircut
I want to choose my wife, choose when to have kids, and choose a home
I want to understand the famous works of writers and historical people
I want detachment from defensiveness, anger, ego, and aggression
I want to work hard
I want that all-consuming, biting, itching desire to work
I want to create - with humor, thoughtfulness, and emotional catharsis
I want to ignore the drones of the ordinary, and find the real humanness of people
I want to uplift nice people, live next to good people
I want to stand clear from cultural revolutions - so I don't lose my humanness
I want to find and absorb art that causes an emotional reaction within me
I want to drop out of society - because society cannot be civilized
I want to create and disseminate - to change people's lives for the better
I want to stay fit and strong to enjoy life's active moments
I want to read in my own home
I want to work everyday - and avoid leisure as much as possible
I want a clean home, clean rooms, clean floors, washed and fresh bedsheets
I want to cook for myself
I do not want to smoke
I do not want to binge on alcohol
I do not want to associate with hard drugs or the lifestyle
I want to discard reputations, and fulfill commitments
I want to be ready to die at any moment
I want to wear t-shirts and jeans
I'd like good health well into old age
I'd like to breath deeply more often
I'd like to treat people with friendship
I'd like to find something worth living for, grab it, and do my best not to let go
I'd like to not die with regrets
*
Sometimes I realize death is the final end of life, and the stripping away of consciousness terrifies me.
People enjoy living. People are scared to die. Death is the end of all of us. Nothing nor no one can change our end.
Maybe if we live well, have a good time, and love and take care of the people who love us back, we'd pass away a lot easier.
And then commitments to reality turn us back. Shortcomings block progression. The courses of others cut our own. We fail.
*
Cotton dress
Button-down brown pants
Young and in love
Like fish in a pond
*
Cry because you're hurt
Cry to get away
Move your body
To get out of the truly
Endless cycles
*
Let people live their lives. Keep fantasy away from a paradigm.
*
[doggerel that I like]
Soft and spoken
Like an elegant-scented
Crystal prism bath
Carried further than a line
Caught between two growing lies
Spread default canyon soaking overseas
Without cause, a harmless breeze
Shifts the moon ninety degrees
Hollows-out shopping sprees
Leaflets polluting blue-white skies
Woman resting on your thighs
Hugs and ammo, secret yellow
Tore a cloth, ripped seams
Yellow blankets, Christmas dreams
Silent dawn, midnight yellow
Raise a flag, raise a flag
Clap for another man
Sweat drip in your eyes
Wiped with an orange tee
Split a bottle of forty ounce
Drink so hard you throw up
Take the hose, turn it on
Fill up on preferred people
*
She gets up
Those boys get down
Hopeless birds
Follow her around
I say that's enough
And storm out of the crowd
Wait outside
Sit on the ground
*
I haven't been posting much because I'm fed up. Mostly I'm fed up with the status quo.
School begins this Thursday, and it marks the beginning of a new life. I know I cannot continue on here as I have before, because now is the most important time in my life so far. I cannot waste time. I cannot fail anymore.
I've been trying to figure out who I am and what I want.
I want to learn the complicated theories of writers and explorers. I want the full breadth of human understanding. I want everything the past can give to me.
My posting will be limited indefinitely. Not because I have to, but because I want to.
I said earlier that I'm fed up with the status quo. I'm frustrated by meaningless straying from my life of purpose. I want to grow, and mature, and fill my head with knowledge. I want to become a better version of myself. I want to grow up, and find areas of life I don't even know about. I want to stand for something, by myself. I want a really good life of exploration, hard work, and fulfillment. I want meaning. I want something deeper.
Dying terrifies me. I don't want to die. One day I will. I want to be happy to die. I want to die peacefully. At least I can try to change that.
That's all.
*
"As for me, I throw myself into my work and keep an eye peeled for silver lunch trucks, and I remember. I sometimes walk in the rain without an umbrella. When I see change on the sidewalk, I leave it there. If no one's looking, I drop a quarter. I feel guilty when I buy a card from Hallmark. I listen for mockingbirds.
"I read the newspapers. I read them from all over. I skip the front pages and headlines and go to the pages in back. I read the community sections and the fillers. I see little acts of kindness happening from Maine to California. I read of a man in Kansas City who stands at a busy intersection every morning and waves at the people driving to work. I read of a little girl in Oregon who sells lemonade in front of her house for five cents a cup - and offers a free back scratch to every customer.
"When I read about things like these I wonder, Is she there? I wonder what she calls herself now. I wonder if she's lost her freckles. I wonder if I'll ever get another chance. I wonder, but I don't despair. Though I have no family of my own, I do not feel alone. I know that I am being watched. The echo of her laughter is the second sunrise I awaken to each day, and at night I feel it is more than starts looking down on me. Last month, one day before my birthday, I received a gift-wrapped package in the mail. It was a porcupine necktie."
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Friday, September 6, 2013
Socializing
My two friends and I went to the A this afternoon. Sort of a last
minute plan. We met around seven, when the sun was setting. I
brought the two notepads I write songs in to show to my musician friend. He took
them home to read. There's about 35 songs.
We get to the top, and it's already night. The city lights blink and flicker on. High on the horizon, miles away, we can see the skyscrapers of LA, and the orange glow hanging around the city.
My friend and I decide it's too hot. We take off our shirts. Mine was wet. We sit on top of a water resevoir - like a flat land of concrete - and stare out at the city lights.
Our other friend took a picture of us shirtless, holding up peace signs. Ironically, I guess. Or maybe not. The background is washed-out black, you can't really make-out our faces. However, I think it's my favorite picture I have with that friend.
An older, middle-aged man approaches us. He's got a blinding white headlamp and carries two walking poles. He's wearing knee pads and a loaded backpack. His hiking boots are big.
And for some reason, we get into a conversation with this guy. It begins with talks of mountain lions, and bears, and coyotes. Then we skip over to traffic accidents, and airline disasters, mentioning guns somewhere along the way. He talks over us sometimes. He gets onto rails so much that he sometimes ignores a question I ask. It's impossible to derail him in the middle of a point. I'm trying to be nice to the guy. In my mind, I don't really care about this conversation. I don't care who this guy is, or what his opinions mean. I realize this guy doesn't affect my life in the slightest bit. And there's some power to that.
I gather a few things from him - either inferring or piecing together. He says he has a roommate. He talks about buying houses and flipping them for profit with his brother. His stories of camping in the Sierra Mountains include him and his friends. He seemed reluctant to leave.
Eventually we split the conversation and he leaves. A woman sits behind us on a different part of the concrete resevoir. She confidently chimes in when we're talking about getting Subway. We talk amongst ourselves some more and she leaves.
I comment on how I liked the fact that we didn't exchange names with that man. I couldn't describe how I felt right then to my friends. One of them said I felt romantic, but that wasn't the feeling. It felt more casual, yet more than small talk. I felt as if I stumbled into an honest encounter with another human being.
We head back down ten minutes later. Just for kicks, we piss off the edge of the trail down a steep incline into some bushes. It's black outside, so we need to carry flashlights.
We get around halfway down when we pass the same woman from before. I only glance at her. I see she's a young woman - around our age - and carries a flashlight on her wrist and wears a backpack. She stops to let us pass, and something inside me says, "Hey, this woman wanted to talk to you guys up at the top. Talk to her now." So as I pass her I say, "Are you the woman from before? Up there?" "Depends," she says. "Are you the same guys I talked to up there?" "Yeah, yeah we are." "How was the tarantula?" she asked. We spotted a big tarantula inside a hole near the resevoir. "We took a picture of it. Show it to her," I say to my friend. He starts to get his phone out. "How big was it?" "Not that big," my friend says. "Probably as big as your hand." "Yeah, if your hand was the size of a football," I joked. She was still thinking about the previous thing my friend said. "That's big!" She had a slight, high-pitched accent which I only noticed after a while.
Then I started asking her questions, and we got to talking. Somehow, intentionally, my two friends sped up ahead of us, and we were left going down the trail side-by-side.
Understand that I had no intentions when I first spoke to this woman. No expectations. No false realities in my head. I spoke to her knowing that nothing would come of it. I only felt like talking. Surprising,
We talked for twenty minutes about her life, and to a smaller extent, my life. She had a rushing rhythm of talking without pausing. I ask a simple question, and a whole story comes out.
In the dark, behind our flashlights, I could only get a vague sense of what she looks like. She was about 5'5''. She had dark hair, and a tan face. Most likely Latina. When I turned and saw her shadowed profile, I saw she had a slightly prominent and sharp nose. Her eyes brows were nicely well-kept, I noticed.
We had a bit in common. She told me she had gone to the same community college I went to. Inferring from her college history, she was 25 or 26. She talked about her job, and how losing her job two months ago helped her focus her life into more things she likes to do - such as hiking. She talked about hikes she's done: Santa Monica Mountains, Sierra Madre, a place that had a overhanging boulder called Balancing Rock. She talked about a trail in the Santa Monica Mountains - found in Malibu, I learned - which takes you all the way up the mountain, At the very top, she said, is a bench which looks out over the ocean. I imagine sitting on that bench - a small and yellow bench - and watching the sun melt into the horizon.
But at the back of my mind, the whole time I listened and asked questions, and followed-up with small 'yeahs' and 'uh-huhs,' I knew that whatever was happening, whatever this was, would not lead me anywhere. I would not start dating this girl because I asked questions and listened to her verbose answers. Judge me if you will. I've resolved myself to this fact: that the harder I try, the less I succeed. There's a power in not relying on other people to change your life for the better. There's a certain power in talking with someone whom you don't a shit about.
We got down to the base of the mountain at last. My friend was looking for his keys, and the woman stood next to us for a few moments. Then she quickly said, "Bye, it was nice talking to you." We said bye, and she left.
We went to Subway right after. Only one of my friends went. He commented about the girl. "So what were you guys talking about?" "Oh, just stuff," I said. We ordered from a very smiley employee - a woman probably in her late 20s. She joked with us a lot. I sometimes didn't understand what she was saying because of her choppy accent.
We sat down to eat. It was around 10 o'clock at that time. We started eating our sandwiches when the hiking girl came up again. "So, was she cute?" my friend asked. "It wasn't like that." "I know it wasn't," he said. "I just didn't care. I'm at a point now where I have no expectations that anything will happen with women." "You impressed me," he said. I asked him why. "Because you actually socialized with her. Some people can't just have a conversation with a woman. Sometimes I just wanna have a conversation with a girl - and not a flirty one. If I do have a normal conversation, someone always has to ask, 'Was she cute?' I'd say, 'Yeah, I guess.' Then they'd say, 'Then why didn't you get her number?' I wasn't trying to get her number, we were just talking." We laughed. He complimented me on how far my socializing skills have come. "What do you mean?" I said. "A few years ago," he said, "we were somewhere, a CVS or someplace, and we were at the check-out line." I interrupted him. "I know where you're going with this. I remember being angry at you for making a big deal out of this small story." He laughed. "We were at the CVS, listening to the music over the speakers. You were waiting to pay. The cashier was listening to the music, too. She was nodding her head a bit, and said, 'I really like this song.' And do you remember what you said?" I didn't remember exactly. "You said, 'Yeah.'" He couldn't help but laugh. "That's all you said. 'Yeah.' It was so rude." "So what?"I said. "I feel like that's such a minor detail, and you made a big deal about it." He finished, "Back then, I knew that you couldn't socialize around other people. Today, you proved that you actually can."
The smiley Subway lady came out from the back, and was dragging a plastic trash can to the door. I spotted her and said, "Do you need help?" She smiled, and meekly said yes.
We lifted it by the handles and stepped outside. It wasn't really heavy. I told her this, and she laughed. I also told her that because I work with my dad gardening, I'm used to lifting heavy trash cans around - you know, to dump out the grass clippings. We walked around the building to the dumpster. She opened the gate, and we lifted the can and dumped the trash. She thanked me about a billion times, and even offered me a free drink or juice - which I politely turned-down. I did, however, take up her offer to wash my hands at the sink.We then said a billion more thank yous and you're welcomes before I sat down to eat again.
When we left Subway, we went to a friend's small get-together. There were about 8 or 9 guys there, all of whom I knew. Most of whom I don't care for. I told a story, which went over well. I can't remember the last time that happened. (The story, in case you were wondering, was about a video of professional body builder Ronnie Coleman, right before a big lift, saying, "Everybody want to be a body builder, but ain't nobody want to lift this heavy ass weight!" And then proceeds to squat 800lbs.) Everything was chill at the get-together. I started to feel sleepy. Towards the end of the night, the guy I went to Subway with said to me, regarding the hiking girl again, and my rudeness at CVS years ago: "Today, you proved to me that you can socialize with other people and not be rude." "I don't have to prove anything to you anyway," I said, which I whole-heartedly meant. He said, "Well, you did it anyway!"
3:01 AM
We get to the top, and it's already night. The city lights blink and flicker on. High on the horizon, miles away, we can see the skyscrapers of LA, and the orange glow hanging around the city.
My friend and I decide it's too hot. We take off our shirts. Mine was wet. We sit on top of a water resevoir - like a flat land of concrete - and stare out at the city lights.
Our other friend took a picture of us shirtless, holding up peace signs. Ironically, I guess. Or maybe not. The background is washed-out black, you can't really make-out our faces. However, I think it's my favorite picture I have with that friend.
An older, middle-aged man approaches us. He's got a blinding white headlamp and carries two walking poles. He's wearing knee pads and a loaded backpack. His hiking boots are big.
And for some reason, we get into a conversation with this guy. It begins with talks of mountain lions, and bears, and coyotes. Then we skip over to traffic accidents, and airline disasters, mentioning guns somewhere along the way. He talks over us sometimes. He gets onto rails so much that he sometimes ignores a question I ask. It's impossible to derail him in the middle of a point. I'm trying to be nice to the guy. In my mind, I don't really care about this conversation. I don't care who this guy is, or what his opinions mean. I realize this guy doesn't affect my life in the slightest bit. And there's some power to that.
I gather a few things from him - either inferring or piecing together. He says he has a roommate. He talks about buying houses and flipping them for profit with his brother. His stories of camping in the Sierra Mountains include him and his friends. He seemed reluctant to leave.
Eventually we split the conversation and he leaves. A woman sits behind us on a different part of the concrete resevoir. She confidently chimes in when we're talking about getting Subway. We talk amongst ourselves some more and she leaves.
I comment on how I liked the fact that we didn't exchange names with that man. I couldn't describe how I felt right then to my friends. One of them said I felt romantic, but that wasn't the feeling. It felt more casual, yet more than small talk. I felt as if I stumbled into an honest encounter with another human being.
We head back down ten minutes later. Just for kicks, we piss off the edge of the trail down a steep incline into some bushes. It's black outside, so we need to carry flashlights.
We get around halfway down when we pass the same woman from before. I only glance at her. I see she's a young woman - around our age - and carries a flashlight on her wrist and wears a backpack. She stops to let us pass, and something inside me says, "Hey, this woman wanted to talk to you guys up at the top. Talk to her now." So as I pass her I say, "Are you the woman from before? Up there?" "Depends," she says. "Are you the same guys I talked to up there?" "Yeah, yeah we are." "How was the tarantula?" she asked. We spotted a big tarantula inside a hole near the resevoir. "We took a picture of it. Show it to her," I say to my friend. He starts to get his phone out. "How big was it?" "Not that big," my friend says. "Probably as big as your hand." "Yeah, if your hand was the size of a football," I joked. She was still thinking about the previous thing my friend said. "That's big!" She had a slight, high-pitched accent which I only noticed after a while.
Then I started asking her questions, and we got to talking. Somehow, intentionally, my two friends sped up ahead of us, and we were left going down the trail side-by-side.
Understand that I had no intentions when I first spoke to this woman. No expectations. No false realities in my head. I spoke to her knowing that nothing would come of it. I only felt like talking. Surprising,
We talked for twenty minutes about her life, and to a smaller extent, my life. She had a rushing rhythm of talking without pausing. I ask a simple question, and a whole story comes out.
In the dark, behind our flashlights, I could only get a vague sense of what she looks like. She was about 5'5''. She had dark hair, and a tan face. Most likely Latina. When I turned and saw her shadowed profile, I saw she had a slightly prominent and sharp nose. Her eyes brows were nicely well-kept, I noticed.
We had a bit in common. She told me she had gone to the same community college I went to. Inferring from her college history, she was 25 or 26. She talked about her job, and how losing her job two months ago helped her focus her life into more things she likes to do - such as hiking. She talked about hikes she's done: Santa Monica Mountains, Sierra Madre, a place that had a overhanging boulder called Balancing Rock. She talked about a trail in the Santa Monica Mountains - found in Malibu, I learned - which takes you all the way up the mountain, At the very top, she said, is a bench which looks out over the ocean. I imagine sitting on that bench - a small and yellow bench - and watching the sun melt into the horizon.
But at the back of my mind, the whole time I listened and asked questions, and followed-up with small 'yeahs' and 'uh-huhs,' I knew that whatever was happening, whatever this was, would not lead me anywhere. I would not start dating this girl because I asked questions and listened to her verbose answers. Judge me if you will. I've resolved myself to this fact: that the harder I try, the less I succeed. There's a power in not relying on other people to change your life for the better. There's a certain power in talking with someone whom you don't a shit about.
We got down to the base of the mountain at last. My friend was looking for his keys, and the woman stood next to us for a few moments. Then she quickly said, "Bye, it was nice talking to you." We said bye, and she left.
We went to Subway right after. Only one of my friends went. He commented about the girl. "So what were you guys talking about?" "Oh, just stuff," I said. We ordered from a very smiley employee - a woman probably in her late 20s. She joked with us a lot. I sometimes didn't understand what she was saying because of her choppy accent.
We sat down to eat. It was around 10 o'clock at that time. We started eating our sandwiches when the hiking girl came up again. "So, was she cute?" my friend asked. "It wasn't like that." "I know it wasn't," he said. "I just didn't care. I'm at a point now where I have no expectations that anything will happen with women." "You impressed me," he said. I asked him why. "Because you actually socialized with her. Some people can't just have a conversation with a woman. Sometimes I just wanna have a conversation with a girl - and not a flirty one. If I do have a normal conversation, someone always has to ask, 'Was she cute?' I'd say, 'Yeah, I guess.' Then they'd say, 'Then why didn't you get her number?' I wasn't trying to get her number, we were just talking." We laughed. He complimented me on how far my socializing skills have come. "What do you mean?" I said. "A few years ago," he said, "we were somewhere, a CVS or someplace, and we were at the check-out line." I interrupted him. "I know where you're going with this. I remember being angry at you for making a big deal out of this small story." He laughed. "We were at the CVS, listening to the music over the speakers. You were waiting to pay. The cashier was listening to the music, too. She was nodding her head a bit, and said, 'I really like this song.' And do you remember what you said?" I didn't remember exactly. "You said, 'Yeah.'" He couldn't help but laugh. "That's all you said. 'Yeah.' It was so rude." "So what?"I said. "I feel like that's such a minor detail, and you made a big deal about it." He finished, "Back then, I knew that you couldn't socialize around other people. Today, you proved that you actually can."
The smiley Subway lady came out from the back, and was dragging a plastic trash can to the door. I spotted her and said, "Do you need help?" She smiled, and meekly said yes.
We lifted it by the handles and stepped outside. It wasn't really heavy. I told her this, and she laughed. I also told her that because I work with my dad gardening, I'm used to lifting heavy trash cans around - you know, to dump out the grass clippings. We walked around the building to the dumpster. She opened the gate, and we lifted the can and dumped the trash. She thanked me about a billion times, and even offered me a free drink or juice - which I politely turned-down. I did, however, take up her offer to wash my hands at the sink.We then said a billion more thank yous and you're welcomes before I sat down to eat again.
When we left Subway, we went to a friend's small get-together. There were about 8 or 9 guys there, all of whom I knew. Most of whom I don't care for. I told a story, which went over well. I can't remember the last time that happened. (The story, in case you were wondering, was about a video of professional body builder Ronnie Coleman, right before a big lift, saying, "Everybody want to be a body builder, but ain't nobody want to lift this heavy ass weight!" And then proceeds to squat 800lbs.) Everything was chill at the get-together. I started to feel sleepy. Towards the end of the night, the guy I went to Subway with said to me, regarding the hiking girl again, and my rudeness at CVS years ago: "Today, you proved to me that you can socialize with other people and not be rude." "I don't have to prove anything to you anyway," I said, which I whole-heartedly meant. He said, "Well, you did it anyway!"
3:01 AM
Saturday, August 31, 2013
"I'm not counting anymore"
I'm going to my uncle's wedding. At least, it's sort of like a wedding. They're already married - have been, actually, for five years. They're getting married by the church, though. Which is surprising, because I thought they already married in the church. I don't follow the lives of my family very closely.
Rude people at Subway yesterday. When you're waiting for your order, you're supposed to line up to the right - at least away from the in-progress sandwich line. These people walked to the middle of the sandwich line and stayed there. When the lady asked who was next in line, I had to raise my hand and say me. Then I gave these people a hard stare. The guy said, "Go ahead," like I was offering him to order ahead of me. Fat chance. They didn't even move when my sandwich was being made. That really annoyed me. Fuck those people.
I ran into that Chinese lady again yesterday. The really nice one who said I was handsome. She said I was handsome again. Haha. She also patted me on the head three times. Really hard pats.
She was encouraging me to go to school and do well. She made a good point too. She said, using China as an example, that poor people in China come to America willing to do any job available to the lowest working class. They have children, and those children can go to school. "And it doesn't matter who parents are," she said, "the children have the opportunity to climb up social ladder to the top by going to school. From the bottom to the top in one generation," she emphasized. I agreed.
My father was watering her backyard, and pulled the hose awkwardly. A pot fell and broke. The lady said, "Don't worry about it, is okay." She was laughing. "I have that pot for twenty years, it's time I throw it out anyway." She saw that made my dad feel worse, so she said, "Don't worry, is okay." Then she started talking about getting my dad the business of the apartments across the street, but one of the tenants told her not to because their landlord was a frustrating, unreasonable person. The lady said, "I say, 'No, I don't want my gardener to have to argue with him. I like my gardener!'" And she laughed.
My friend from San Francisco burned me some CDs. This was one of the artists.
"Casiotone for the Painfully Alone - Destroy the Evidence"
Rude people at Subway yesterday. When you're waiting for your order, you're supposed to line up to the right - at least away from the in-progress sandwich line. These people walked to the middle of the sandwich line and stayed there. When the lady asked who was next in line, I had to raise my hand and say me. Then I gave these people a hard stare. The guy said, "Go ahead," like I was offering him to order ahead of me. Fat chance. They didn't even move when my sandwich was being made. That really annoyed me. Fuck those people.
I ran into that Chinese lady again yesterday. The really nice one who said I was handsome. She said I was handsome again. Haha. She also patted me on the head three times. Really hard pats.
She was encouraging me to go to school and do well. She made a good point too. She said, using China as an example, that poor people in China come to America willing to do any job available to the lowest working class. They have children, and those children can go to school. "And it doesn't matter who parents are," she said, "the children have the opportunity to climb up social ladder to the top by going to school. From the bottom to the top in one generation," she emphasized. I agreed.
My father was watering her backyard, and pulled the hose awkwardly. A pot fell and broke. The lady said, "Don't worry about it, is okay." She was laughing. "I have that pot for twenty years, it's time I throw it out anyway." She saw that made my dad feel worse, so she said, "Don't worry, is okay." Then she started talking about getting my dad the business of the apartments across the street, but one of the tenants told her not to because their landlord was a frustrating, unreasonable person. The lady said, "I say, 'No, I don't want my gardener to have to argue with him. I like my gardener!'" And she laughed.
My friend from San Francisco burned me some CDs. This was one of the artists.
"Casiotone for the Painfully Alone - Destroy the Evidence"
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Wrong Side of the Century
When you look into someone's eyes, and you see quietness.
When you piece together the strings, and you feel a bit of who they are.
When people have utility, and no pleasure.
When people look for meaning in the world.
When you're a teenager, and you want all these things to happen. Then they don't.
When you feel stuck in one mindset, one series of setbacks, one attitude.
Your eyes, they're quiet.
They're searching for utility. They're searching for something to do.
Desires and wants. Eagerness.
Ambiguity of kinda wrong.
Ambiguity of okay.
After so much talk, we're left dry of words, our selves come out. Our feelings remain.
And I'm lonely. I'm lonely in a quiet place.
At 22, you're meant to be lonely. But that's not what I was taught by TV and movies.
My eyes are quiet, too.
But they can still see.
I can't look inside anymore.
I want inside your eyes. I want inside your thoughts.
A swirl of desires and unspoken wants.
The yearning is struggle.
Struggle will not end.
Okay?
Who decided what I want?
When you piece together the strings, and you feel a bit of who they are.
When people have utility, and no pleasure.
When people look for meaning in the world.
When you're a teenager, and you want all these things to happen. Then they don't.
When you feel stuck in one mindset, one series of setbacks, one attitude.
Your eyes, they're quiet.
They're searching for utility. They're searching for something to do.
Desires and wants. Eagerness.
Ambiguity of kinda wrong.
Ambiguity of okay.
After so much talk, we're left dry of words, our selves come out. Our feelings remain.
And I'm lonely. I'm lonely in a quiet place.
At 22, you're meant to be lonely. But that's not what I was taught by TV and movies.
My eyes are quiet, too.
But they can still see.
I can't look inside anymore.
I want inside your eyes. I want inside your thoughts.
A swirl of desires and unspoken wants.
The yearning is struggle.
Struggle will not end.
Okay?
Who decided what I want?
Monday, August 26, 2013
22 Miles Into the Mountains
We went to this place called Crystal Lake in the Angeles National Forest. It's 22 miles into the San Gabriel Mountains, up highway 39.
A wildfire burned much of the forest a few years ago. Recently, they've begun to open some areas again. You see remnants of burnt trees, ashen logs, bare and dry landscape.
The mountain is recovering, slowly.
A wildfire burned much of the forest a few years ago. Recently, they've begun to open some areas again. You see remnants of burnt trees, ashen logs, bare and dry landscape.
The mountain is recovering, slowly.
 |
8-22-13
3:15 PM
A and I just returned from trying to split a stump in half. We were scavenging wood while M and C slept in the tent.
We spent forty-five minutes in the sun trying to split a stump. We were smashing small rocks into cracks in the wood. We already did it with a smaller, more brittle stump. This one was a bigger, thicker piece of solid wood. We tried everything to split it open. There was a piece of rebar lying around some broken parking blocks. Even the steel bent when we tried prying the wood with it. We tried throwing it against big sharp rocks. It took the both of us to pick it up and throw it. It still wouldn't crack.
There was a dry riverbed nearby. We tossed the stump in there and it fell six feet onto jagged rock. Still not any significant damage.
Finally, we were exhausted and didn't know what else to do, so we threw rocks at it, and kicked it. . .
 |
| Crystal Lake. |
 |
| Alongside. |
 |
| He skipped stones for the first time. |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| New saplings. Grow big and strong, you guys! |
 |
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| "After fire and years of drought, Crystal Lake re-earns its name." |
The End!
Friday, August 23, 2013
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
The Day Before I Go Camping
Just a recap of my day. Nothing too big.
There weren't any water bottles in the house, so I had to go to the supermarket at 9 pm to get some. A surprising amount of people shopping at night.
I was at the store buying food with friends today. You know, camping food such as chips, chocolate, booze. Just kidding, no booze. Anyway, we were at the check-out line when the cashier says, "Oh. Yeah, this woman accidentally bought some of your stuff." We were like, What? "Are these your things?" the cashier asked. They were ours. "This woman accidentally bought some of your things. That's why you put the rubber down." What happened was that we had put the rubber bar down after the lady's things, but before the cashier finished checking-out everything, we had picked it up and moved it behind the rest of our things. The cashier seemed a bit annoyed. My friend said to me, "Why is she being so mean to us?" But she wasn't being mean, not really. She was annoyed, definitely, and a bit condescending. I said, "It's okay. Guys, it's okay." I felt like the only adult in my group of friends who reacted appropriately to the accidental situation. It also helped that the lady who bought our things was very, very nice about it, and she perfectly understood the whole thing was an accident. She seemed embarrassed more than angry; she was smiling sheepishly a lot. The lady had to go to customer service to clear the charges on her card, and my other friend had to go with her. After that had been settled, the cashier seemed to relax. We chatted for a bit, friendly even, and that was that.
Packing all these things for camping is really tiresome.
Deadlifted today. New personal record (I think) of 245 lbs. That was cool.
I had a text conversation with someone really cool today. I've known her for years, yet I've never had a direct conversation with her. She's wonderfully special, quite weird, and really cute. She's just about the sweetest thing in the world, and despite her struggles in life, she makes the best of what she has. At her core, a lovely, lively human being. I think you'd like her.
It's strange, but I'm not really good at text conversation. Why is that strange? I don't know. Considering my levels of social skills, it shouldn't be surprising.
The only time I text is when I'm planning something with my friends, or when I'm confirming plans. I don't know how to converse with text. It feels like I force everything.
Communicating with people is weird. The method of communication can dictate the boundaries of connection, and when that changes, the connection must adapt to fit the new methods of communication. Otherwise, what? I don't know. Rather, I don't want to really think about it.
This method of communication - blogging - is only one way to get to know somebody. Any worthwhile communication takes time and patience. For me, I try my best to improve - slowly, but surely.
There weren't any water bottles in the house, so I had to go to the supermarket at 9 pm to get some. A surprising amount of people shopping at night.
I was at the store buying food with friends today. You know, camping food such as chips, chocolate, booze. Just kidding, no booze. Anyway, we were at the check-out line when the cashier says, "Oh. Yeah, this woman accidentally bought some of your stuff." We were like, What? "Are these your things?" the cashier asked. They were ours. "This woman accidentally bought some of your things. That's why you put the rubber down." What happened was that we had put the rubber bar down after the lady's things, but before the cashier finished checking-out everything, we had picked it up and moved it behind the rest of our things. The cashier seemed a bit annoyed. My friend said to me, "Why is she being so mean to us?" But she wasn't being mean, not really. She was annoyed, definitely, and a bit condescending. I said, "It's okay. Guys, it's okay." I felt like the only adult in my group of friends who reacted appropriately to the accidental situation. It also helped that the lady who bought our things was very, very nice about it, and she perfectly understood the whole thing was an accident. She seemed embarrassed more than angry; she was smiling sheepishly a lot. The lady had to go to customer service to clear the charges on her card, and my other friend had to go with her. After that had been settled, the cashier seemed to relax. We chatted for a bit, friendly even, and that was that.
Packing all these things for camping is really tiresome.
Deadlifted today. New personal record (I think) of 245 lbs. That was cool.
I had a text conversation with someone really cool today. I've known her for years, yet I've never had a direct conversation with her. She's wonderfully special, quite weird, and really cute. She's just about the sweetest thing in the world, and despite her struggles in life, she makes the best of what she has. At her core, a lovely, lively human being. I think you'd like her.
It's strange, but I'm not really good at text conversation. Why is that strange? I don't know. Considering my levels of social skills, it shouldn't be surprising.
The only time I text is when I'm planning something with my friends, or when I'm confirming plans. I don't know how to converse with text. It feels like I force everything.
Communicating with people is weird. The method of communication can dictate the boundaries of connection, and when that changes, the connection must adapt to fit the new methods of communication. Otherwise, what? I don't know. Rather, I don't want to really think about it.
This method of communication - blogging - is only one way to get to know somebody. Any worthwhile communication takes time and patience. For me, I try my best to improve - slowly, but surely.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Okay With Life
When my life hits dull periods, I wonder if that's because life is dull a lot of the time, or because my life is dull a lot of the time.
Didn't go paintballing Saturday because my uncle couldn't make it. Wasn't too upset about it.
I hung out with my friend from San Francisco on Friday. We went to the A - you know, that hiking trail with the cross. That was pretty fun. We talked about music a lot, since he's into Do It Yourself music, and what might be considered the modern punk scene in LA and SF. He makes a lot of music, records it himself, makes tapes himself, then distributes and promotes himself. So we talked about that for most of the time.
Then we went to his house to play D&D. He seemed really eager to play, but what ended up happening was that no one really paid attention to the game, and even ignored him sometimes.
People were going to sleep over his house because his family was out of town. I couldn't - or rather I didn't really want to - mainly because I had to work with my dad the next morning. (I've never slept over a friend's house before, and I've never had a sleepover at my house before. My mom would never let me when I was younger - not that I had many invitations from friends in elementary school. Maybe some from middle school.)
I told him I had written some songs while he was away, and was hoping he could take a look at them. I didn't want to sing or play them, because I can't sing or play an instrument with any finesse. However, I thought it'd be cool if they were played. I brought them over in a yellow notepad. At the beginning of the night, I handed the notepad over to him, and he put it in the kitchen. As I was leaving, I didn't feel comfortable leaving them with him (or anyone, really; they're kind of more personal than I'm comfortable with in real life), so I picked up the notebook and told him we'd look over them later. His face was like a battered puppy's when I said that. "But I was going to read them," he said quietly. He'd just gotten high, too. His eyes were wet, and his face was soft. "We'll go over it some other day," I said. He didn't respond. Then he said, "Okay." I left soon afterwards.
- - - - - - - - -
I have about a month until school starts. How am I going to fill that time?
I find myself bored more often than lonely these days. I wish I had something to do. Something fun, and exciting, and that made me feel productive. I have no idea what that is. It's just something I wish.
I think life is boring most of the time. Not just because I'm out of school; not just because I don't have a job. I think we get into these routines when we're older, and we stick to them for years. We resist change because we don't have the energy to do something different. We're not young 20-somethings anymore; we're older people, with a mortgage and three kids, and a couple of cars and dogs. How can we change what we're doing? We could wreck our entire life that way.
Marriage seems like really hard work.
I'm not ready for marriage. I don't know when I will be. Is it like a sudden change in a man? Does he feel the desperate need to start a family? Does he decide over the course of a serious relationship? How do women decide when to get married? Women are under more pressure to marry younger than men, I think. That is, if they want kids. I don't envy women for having kids. It seems like the roughest nine months of your life - not to mention the years of child-raising that follows. Marriage and kids is too real for me right now. It's too overwhelming, too permanent a lifestyle, which is why I'm not ready. It seems that once you have kids and get married - that's it, your life is set.
And then things like divorce can mess everything up.
Once this day is over, it's one day closer to death. I'm not in a rush or anything, though. I just want to find something good in my life - something to hold on to.
The Things I dream about:
I dream about a healthy, loving marriage.
I dream about a high-paying career
I dream about a home - a lovely house in a quiet place
I dream about visiting cities - NY, SF, Chicago, Seattle, London, Paris - with my wife.
I dream about nights at home - my own home
I dream about when I'll meet my wife - will she be in one of my classes, a friend of a friend? Will I know right away? What will she look like?
I dream about the unerring self-assurance middle-age brings.
I dream about the future course of my life.
I dream about my death, and will I have resigned myself at it's moment? Will I be okay with my life to release it?
I dream about changing lives with writing. I dream about creating literature like Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Salinger.
I dream about a quiet, prosperous life.
If I had to describe how I felt right now, I'd say I felt: Okay with life.
Didn't go paintballing Saturday because my uncle couldn't make it. Wasn't too upset about it.
I hung out with my friend from San Francisco on Friday. We went to the A - you know, that hiking trail with the cross. That was pretty fun. We talked about music a lot, since he's into Do It Yourself music, and what might be considered the modern punk scene in LA and SF. He makes a lot of music, records it himself, makes tapes himself, then distributes and promotes himself. So we talked about that for most of the time.
Then we went to his house to play D&D. He seemed really eager to play, but what ended up happening was that no one really paid attention to the game, and even ignored him sometimes.
People were going to sleep over his house because his family was out of town. I couldn't - or rather I didn't really want to - mainly because I had to work with my dad the next morning. (I've never slept over a friend's house before, and I've never had a sleepover at my house before. My mom would never let me when I was younger - not that I had many invitations from friends in elementary school. Maybe some from middle school.)
I told him I had written some songs while he was away, and was hoping he could take a look at them. I didn't want to sing or play them, because I can't sing or play an instrument with any finesse. However, I thought it'd be cool if they were played. I brought them over in a yellow notepad. At the beginning of the night, I handed the notepad over to him, and he put it in the kitchen. As I was leaving, I didn't feel comfortable leaving them with him (or anyone, really; they're kind of more personal than I'm comfortable with in real life), so I picked up the notebook and told him we'd look over them later. His face was like a battered puppy's when I said that. "But I was going to read them," he said quietly. He'd just gotten high, too. His eyes were wet, and his face was soft. "We'll go over it some other day," I said. He didn't respond. Then he said, "Okay." I left soon afterwards.
- - - - - - - - -
I have about a month until school starts. How am I going to fill that time?
I find myself bored more often than lonely these days. I wish I had something to do. Something fun, and exciting, and that made me feel productive. I have no idea what that is. It's just something I wish.
I think life is boring most of the time. Not just because I'm out of school; not just because I don't have a job. I think we get into these routines when we're older, and we stick to them for years. We resist change because we don't have the energy to do something different. We're not young 20-somethings anymore; we're older people, with a mortgage and three kids, and a couple of cars and dogs. How can we change what we're doing? We could wreck our entire life that way.
Marriage seems like really hard work.
I'm not ready for marriage. I don't know when I will be. Is it like a sudden change in a man? Does he feel the desperate need to start a family? Does he decide over the course of a serious relationship? How do women decide when to get married? Women are under more pressure to marry younger than men, I think. That is, if they want kids. I don't envy women for having kids. It seems like the roughest nine months of your life - not to mention the years of child-raising that follows. Marriage and kids is too real for me right now. It's too overwhelming, too permanent a lifestyle, which is why I'm not ready. It seems that once you have kids and get married - that's it, your life is set.
And then things like divorce can mess everything up.
Once this day is over, it's one day closer to death. I'm not in a rush or anything, though. I just want to find something good in my life - something to hold on to.
The Things I dream about:
I dream about a healthy, loving marriage.
I dream about a high-paying career
I dream about a home - a lovely house in a quiet place
I dream about visiting cities - NY, SF, Chicago, Seattle, London, Paris - with my wife.
I dream about nights at home - my own home
I dream about when I'll meet my wife - will she be in one of my classes, a friend of a friend? Will I know right away? What will she look like?
I dream about the unerring self-assurance middle-age brings.
I dream about the future course of my life.
I dream about my death, and will I have resigned myself at it's moment? Will I be okay with my life to release it?
I dream about changing lives with writing. I dream about creating literature like Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Salinger.
I dream about a quiet, prosperous life.
If I had to describe how I felt right now, I'd say I felt: Okay with life.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
university orientation: it was a good day
Most i've interacted, socialized in months. felt soo good.
comfortable more than ever. trust my voice won't crack or strain.
rainbow bracelet from lgbtq club. club mailing lists. one for volunteer services in the community. another to decorate our rose parade float. lgbtq.
signed-up for a Christian bible study club. to learn more. smiled. would i have ever signed-up if i didn't know you?
some social failures and miscues. next time i'll get it right. won't stop trying.
walked around a lot. lots of power point slides.
bad photo ID. in spite of appearances, I don't wear lipstick.
so baking hot. direct sun splitting my skin.
perhaps join production of theater department? perhaps search for internships.
registered full-time.
teriyaki chicken at lunch.
Thoughts:
It was fun. I had more fun than I expected. Most of the day wasn't exciting. It was a lot of standing in line, sitting down, listening to people speaking, and walking around. I didn't make any friends, or really talk to people much. I was just by myself most of the time, which was okay. I normally don't mind being alone when other people are alone, too. (However, when everyone else is together and I'm the only person alone - that's when I get uncomfortable.)
The tour guide was younger than me, which was funny. I felt like I was older than a lot of people there, which probably wasn't true. But at 22, i kind of did feel out of place. it's like, "dude, you're supposed to be graduated already. what are you doing here?" But these feelings were small, and didn't really bother me. Most of this age-gap weirdness was probably only in my head.
What's done is done. let's move on. i can succeed. i can make it happen.
a weird thing popped into my mind. our tour guide was a tall, lanky white guy, about 19 years old, and wore those sunglasses with neon-colored sides. I thought, while looking at him, "Man, he's a pretty good-looking guy. I bet a lot of girls think he's really cute or handsome." I started to feel bad about myself. But then I caught myself and stopped. "Why am I comparing myself to this guy?" Why does it matter to me if girls think he's good-looking? You know? He's who he is, I'm who I am, and that's all. I can't change the way I look. I can't help it if people don't think I'm attractive. It's totally out of my reach, away from my control. Why worry myself and feel badly about it? If someone thinks I'm attractive, they'll think I'm attractive. I'm me. I can only be me. You know? This is who I am. Accept me or don't; I won't be bothered.
I really like this new place. This new life that's just beginning. Is that over-dramatic? I don't think so, since this is such a big change for me.
after lunch, we registered for classes. there were only about five other people in my major at orientation. i met my adviser. she seemed nice enough. then i had to get my ID photo taken. i talked to this couple standing in line behind me. the girl, who had dyed red hair, was one of the five in my major. she had her boyfriend with her. they were both overweight. he had really short curly hair. they were nice. i could tell the boyfriend seemed weary of me talking to his girlfriend. we started talking when he was away for a minute on his cell phone. when he got back, he immediately placed his hand on her shoulder, as if to say, "Hey, buddy. She's mine." But I talked more to him, and it turned out he had a bachelor's in English. so we talked about that for a bit. then things kinda got awkward, and that was the end of that.
the last thing we did was walk through this room where a bunch of club representatives were stationed. this was really fun, actually. i thought it would be really hard, but the people were so nice and welcoming. i felt comfortable immediately. so that was nice. oh, and i also won a free t-shirt for spinning a wheel prize thing.
it was a nice, tiring, fun day. i feel more confident than ever in myself, in my own abilities to succeed. i feel like i'm putting some of my biggest failures and losses behind me. it really does feel like a new, healthy, strong start to my life. It feels like I'm growing up.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Appreciation
A Process
As I age, my interests broaden.
When I was a kid, I focused on myself. My thoughts were mainly about me, concerned only for me. I think that's natural (but, hey, what do I know?).
When I got to be a little older, I started to notice the people around me. Slowly, it became clear to me that most people don't have the same thoughts and opinions as I do, and that they're not as concerned about me as I am. Their concern is for themselves - which caused a struggle within myself to understand what they wanted or needed.
This led me to my current emotional stage: to learn an empathetic connection with other people. The main focus of which is to feel what other people feel. To ignore my own needs and wants, and to concern myself with what others need or want. Feeling elation and melancholy that isn't my own, yet treated as if it were. I'm still struggling with this, but I'm trying everyday to improve.
That's not the end of this process, though. It may not even be the beginning, actually (because, hey, what do I know?). The next step, I think, is appreciation. Valuing other people, and caring for them. No longer ignoring my wants and needs, but transforming them to appreciate and care for the people in my life.
That's the final step of emotional maturity, I think.
Care and appreciation are not a stamp, but a process; and it will take the rest of my life to fulfill them.
A Small Word
What I want to say - what I need to say - is this: I value you a whole lot. I am so grateful that you read and comment, and tolerate (I assume) all the stupid things I have to say.
Life would be a little more grim if I didn't know you. I appreciate your thoughts and feelings, and I respect you and your thoughts and feelings as best as I can (despite my bouts of stupidity).
You're an absolute lovely and joyful presence in my life. I cannot express my gratitude and appreciation enough.
Thank you.
As I age, my interests broaden.
When I was a kid, I focused on myself. My thoughts were mainly about me, concerned only for me. I think that's natural (but, hey, what do I know?).
When I got to be a little older, I started to notice the people around me. Slowly, it became clear to me that most people don't have the same thoughts and opinions as I do, and that they're not as concerned about me as I am. Their concern is for themselves - which caused a struggle within myself to understand what they wanted or needed.
This led me to my current emotional stage: to learn an empathetic connection with other people. The main focus of which is to feel what other people feel. To ignore my own needs and wants, and to concern myself with what others need or want. Feeling elation and melancholy that isn't my own, yet treated as if it were. I'm still struggling with this, but I'm trying everyday to improve.
That's not the end of this process, though. It may not even be the beginning, actually (because, hey, what do I know?). The next step, I think, is appreciation. Valuing other people, and caring for them. No longer ignoring my wants and needs, but transforming them to appreciate and care for the people in my life.
That's the final step of emotional maturity, I think.
Care and appreciation are not a stamp, but a process; and it will take the rest of my life to fulfill them.
A Small Word
What I want to say - what I need to say - is this: I value you a whole lot. I am so grateful that you read and comment, and tolerate (I assume) all the stupid things I have to say.
Life would be a little more grim if I didn't know you. I appreciate your thoughts and feelings, and I respect you and your thoughts and feelings as best as I can (despite my bouts of stupidity).
You're an absolute lovely and joyful presence in my life. I cannot express my gratitude and appreciation enough.
Thank you.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Self
Letter
To Self,
If you could just figure yourself out, that would be great. Not that I'm rushing you. It's only that I'd really appreciate it if you got along with committing to who you are already, so that when I'm walking around, interacting with other people, I don't have to be so gosh darn nervous or scared. You've done a fine job the past few years. Thank you very much, I really appreciate the progress you've made. Thank you for the hard-earned self-respect you've given me. It helps me very much in my life. In our life, I should say.
Once again, please finalize the person you are, and send me the report when you're done.
Sincerely, with great affection,
You
Fringe
I cut my own hair this weekend. That was a first. I think it went all right. I'm not picky about my hair anyway. Well, not finicky, I should say. Right now, it's short on the sides and longer on top. I usually comb it to the right (from my point of view). The front is long enough to fall over my forehead just a bit.
I forgot to mention that I cut it with with a pair of craft scissors. What is wrong with me?
. . .
I just looked in the mirror again. My hair looks pretty bad.. I can't bother to fix it though.
Do you ever?
Ever get so bored that you get sick and your head hurts? I think I've reached an all-time low in my days.
Better Tomorrow
I need to write better than this. I'll write something better tomorrow night. Something that evokes strong feelings. Something satisfactory to me. I'll try.
To Self,
If you could just figure yourself out, that would be great. Not that I'm rushing you. It's only that I'd really appreciate it if you got along with committing to who you are already, so that when I'm walking around, interacting with other people, I don't have to be so gosh darn nervous or scared. You've done a fine job the past few years. Thank you very much, I really appreciate the progress you've made. Thank you for the hard-earned self-respect you've given me. It helps me very much in my life. In our life, I should say.
Once again, please finalize the person you are, and send me the report when you're done.
Sincerely, with great affection,
You
Fringe
I cut my own hair this weekend. That was a first. I think it went all right. I'm not picky about my hair anyway. Well, not finicky, I should say. Right now, it's short on the sides and longer on top. I usually comb it to the right (from my point of view). The front is long enough to fall over my forehead just a bit.
I forgot to mention that I cut it with with a pair of craft scissors. What is wrong with me?
. . .
I just looked in the mirror again. My hair looks pretty bad.. I can't bother to fix it though.
Do you ever?
Ever get so bored that you get sick and your head hurts? I think I've reached an all-time low in my days.
Better Tomorrow
I need to write better than this. I'll write something better tomorrow night. Something that evokes strong feelings. Something satisfactory to me. I'll try.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Quietly, Late At Night
I thought about some random person from high school today. You know how sometimes you're thinking about one thing, and then you remember events, people, and places connected to that one thing; and five or six different connections later you're thinking about a totally different subject? Yeah, that's why I was thinking about this random person.
Anyway, I was thinking about her today (she was the friend of a friend) and I imagined what I would say if I saw her one of these days. For instance, if I saw her tomorrow by coincidence, I supposed we'd talk about how long it's been since we've seen each other, pretending to care and all that (hah, I'm mean sometimes); eventually, we'd get around to talking about what we've been up to. I'd say, "I'm pretty much the same person from high school - except 30 pounds heavier." She'd say, "Surely you're different in some ways." And I'd say, "Nope. I'm exactly the same." "But you've probably had girlfriends or something though, right? You don't mean to tell me - " And I'd interrupt her and say, staring straight into her eyes: "Exactly. The same." And I'd walk away.
haha, that's silly.
Hmm. I don't think I am the same person from high school. That's probably what you were thinking. "He's the same since high school? What?" It's just something I thought about.
Then I thought, "Man" - because I say Man quite often - "Man, I'm probably going to have to wait till grad school to find a girlfriend." (Because, somewhere in my mind, I think a lot of single people find partners in grad school.) Then I thought, "What makes you so sure you'll find a girlfriend in grad school?" I thought, "What if I never find anyone because I'm so socially clumsy and clueless about other people?" And then my entire lonely life ran sadly through my mind. That's when I stopped thinking about that subject.
- - - - -
Saw a short Mexican lady (well, no surprise there) with her family buying tacos from a truck near the corner of Normandy and Adams. Her husband, daughter, and young son were with her. I looked at her and her husband creepily, as we waited for the tacos. She had on a white t-shirt, with frilly sleeves, and orange capris. From her face, I'd say she was in her early 30s. I noticed her face because her skin was very clear and smooth, which for some reason stuck out to me. She also had wavy brown hair, which was pinned together with a big hair clip that had black and white flowers on it. Her hair looked very soft and clean, which also stuck out to me. I wasn't judging her or anything. I only thought, noticing these details about her, "She's a pretty person," even if she wasn't exactly gorgeous or anything. All things considered, she looked like a regular person. But I still thought she looked nice. There's more than one way to be beautiful. You probably already know that.
- - - - - -
Scenes From My Life:
I remember taking class photos in 12th grade, 8th grade, and 5th grade. In 5th grade, I remember tying my jacket around my waist, the way young kids still do. That used to be the coolest thing a kid could do.
I remember my first day of kindergarten. I cried. I remember watching my mother leave with another mom, and a sudden loss of my senses as I pressed my face against the windows and cried, "NO! MOMMY, NO! COME BAAAACCCKK!!!" Meanwhile, the rest of the class was sitting down on the floor listening to the teacher read or something. "Stop crying, and come sit down," I think my teacher finally said. I stopped crying and slowly moved to sit down with the other kids. Some kid next me looked at me like I could start again any second. That was a good start to the year.
I remember going to my friends house on a day off from school, at like noon or something, because our other friend was black-out drunk on his lawn. We were fifteen, I think.
I remember in sixth grade science sitting at a desk way in the corner. The desks were so close together, I had to trip my way out of my corner when the bell rang. We violated about a dozen fire codes in that classroom that year.
Ah, I remember some of the times I got a Student of the Month certificate in elementary school. Every class had one or two or three, and each month the entire school had an assembly in the cafeteria. They were given for good grades, or for working hard, or for being really nice to that kid that one time at recess. You got your picture taken with the principal, and your parents were even invited to attend. See, I wasn't always such a bad student. I can achieve top honors if I apply myself. Even Student of the Month.
I remember a rainy day in elementary school. Because recess was held outside, we weren't allowed to play on rainy days. Instead, the entire school sat in the cafeteria on hard, quick-fold benches, and watched Wallace & Gromit movies. We did that for lunch, too, since our second recess was included in our lunch time.
I remember our elementary school colors were green. On Fridays, if you wore green, you'd get a Jolly Rancher from the principal and vice-principal as they went around to every class. I owned a school t-shirt and a school sweater.
- - - - - -
Sometimes I feel like I post too much. Like, I'm over saturating your interest.
- - - - - -
One of my favorite songs at the moment:
Anyway, I was thinking about her today (she was the friend of a friend) and I imagined what I would say if I saw her one of these days. For instance, if I saw her tomorrow by coincidence, I supposed we'd talk about how long it's been since we've seen each other, pretending to care and all that (hah, I'm mean sometimes); eventually, we'd get around to talking about what we've been up to. I'd say, "I'm pretty much the same person from high school - except 30 pounds heavier." She'd say, "Surely you're different in some ways." And I'd say, "Nope. I'm exactly the same." "But you've probably had girlfriends or something though, right? You don't mean to tell me - " And I'd interrupt her and say, staring straight into her eyes: "Exactly. The same." And I'd walk away.
haha, that's silly.
Hmm. I don't think I am the same person from high school. That's probably what you were thinking. "He's the same since high school? What?" It's just something I thought about.
Then I thought, "Man" - because I say Man quite often - "Man, I'm probably going to have to wait till grad school to find a girlfriend." (Because, somewhere in my mind, I think a lot of single people find partners in grad school.) Then I thought, "What makes you so sure you'll find a girlfriend in grad school?" I thought, "What if I never find anyone because I'm so socially clumsy and clueless about other people?" And then my entire lonely life ran sadly through my mind. That's when I stopped thinking about that subject.
- - - - -
Saw a short Mexican lady (well, no surprise there) with her family buying tacos from a truck near the corner of Normandy and Adams. Her husband, daughter, and young son were with her. I looked at her and her husband creepily, as we waited for the tacos. She had on a white t-shirt, with frilly sleeves, and orange capris. From her face, I'd say she was in her early 30s. I noticed her face because her skin was very clear and smooth, which for some reason stuck out to me. She also had wavy brown hair, which was pinned together with a big hair clip that had black and white flowers on it. Her hair looked very soft and clean, which also stuck out to me. I wasn't judging her or anything. I only thought, noticing these details about her, "She's a pretty person," even if she wasn't exactly gorgeous or anything. All things considered, she looked like a regular person. But I still thought she looked nice. There's more than one way to be beautiful. You probably already know that.
- - - - - -
Scenes From My Life:
I remember taking class photos in 12th grade, 8th grade, and 5th grade. In 5th grade, I remember tying my jacket around my waist, the way young kids still do. That used to be the coolest thing a kid could do.
I remember my first day of kindergarten. I cried. I remember watching my mother leave with another mom, and a sudden loss of my senses as I pressed my face against the windows and cried, "NO! MOMMY, NO! COME BAAAACCCKK!!!" Meanwhile, the rest of the class was sitting down on the floor listening to the teacher read or something. "Stop crying, and come sit down," I think my teacher finally said. I stopped crying and slowly moved to sit down with the other kids. Some kid next me looked at me like I could start again any second. That was a good start to the year.
I remember going to my friends house on a day off from school, at like noon or something, because our other friend was black-out drunk on his lawn. We were fifteen, I think.
I remember in sixth grade science sitting at a desk way in the corner. The desks were so close together, I had to trip my way out of my corner when the bell rang. We violated about a dozen fire codes in that classroom that year.
Ah, I remember some of the times I got a Student of the Month certificate in elementary school. Every class had one or two or three, and each month the entire school had an assembly in the cafeteria. They were given for good grades, or for working hard, or for being really nice to that kid that one time at recess. You got your picture taken with the principal, and your parents were even invited to attend. See, I wasn't always such a bad student. I can achieve top honors if I apply myself. Even Student of the Month.
I remember a rainy day in elementary school. Because recess was held outside, we weren't allowed to play on rainy days. Instead, the entire school sat in the cafeteria on hard, quick-fold benches, and watched Wallace & Gromit movies. We did that for lunch, too, since our second recess was included in our lunch time.
I remember our elementary school colors were green. On Fridays, if you wore green, you'd get a Jolly Rancher from the principal and vice-principal as they went around to every class. I owned a school t-shirt and a school sweater.
- - - - - -
Sometimes I feel like I post too much. Like, I'm over saturating your interest.
- - - - - -
One of my favorite songs at the moment:
- - - - - -
Next post, I'll try to remember more things from my recent childhood. I'll have more imaginary conversations with people I hardly knew. And, I'll discuss my impending school orientation (Thursday!), along with the anxiety and fears that come with it.
Goodnight.
Ah, I thought of something else
I'm going to a paintball course next Saturday with my family. My extended - cousins, uncles, second cousins - family. Not going to lie, I'm a smidgen afraid of getting struck. It won't too bad, will it? Nah. Probably not. Maybe.
Saturday, 11:54 PM
This is just a small update of my life.
I've listened to the album Power, Corruption, & Lies by New Order on repeat for the past three days. It's possibly one of my favorite albums.
I'm not sick anymore. I took NyQuil non-stop all week. Surprisingly, no drowsiness.
I ordered the new Star Wars Role-Playing Game on amazon. That's exciting for me only, I guess. Still, I look forward to reading the core rulebook - which is approximately 442 pages long. I repeat: I look forward to reading it.
The last time I exercised was two weeks ago. The last time I fulfilled my full weekly schedule was about a month ago. Yeah, I've been lazy lately.
I'm in chapter two of Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison. I imagined reading would be tougher, more cryptic. It's enjoyably challenging.
I bought that book about four years ago. I'm only reading it now, partly because I've been lazy. I've been lazy a lot in my life. Four years ago.
I'm determined not to forget about Moby-Dick. Moby-Dick, at least for me, is such a dry, slow read, that it sucks the enjoyment out of it - just a bit. It's one of those books you need to read, though, if you want to study English literature - especially American literature. Probably.
I finished most of the gospel of John. My lack of posts about it does not reflect my lack of reading it. It only reflects my abundance of laziness.
Preoccupation. A trimming, disorganized operation of preoccupation. In my head.
That's all for now. If I think of something else, I'll just make another post. Heh.
Sunday, 12:14 PM
I've listened to the album Power, Corruption, & Lies by New Order on repeat for the past three days. It's possibly one of my favorite albums.
I'm not sick anymore. I took NyQuil non-stop all week. Surprisingly, no drowsiness.
I ordered the new Star Wars Role-Playing Game on amazon. That's exciting for me only, I guess. Still, I look forward to reading the core rulebook - which is approximately 442 pages long. I repeat: I look forward to reading it.
The last time I exercised was two weeks ago. The last time I fulfilled my full weekly schedule was about a month ago. Yeah, I've been lazy lately.
I'm in chapter two of Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison. I imagined reading would be tougher, more cryptic. It's enjoyably challenging.
I bought that book about four years ago. I'm only reading it now, partly because I've been lazy. I've been lazy a lot in my life. Four years ago.
I'm determined not to forget about Moby-Dick. Moby-Dick, at least for me, is such a dry, slow read, that it sucks the enjoyment out of it - just a bit. It's one of those books you need to read, though, if you want to study English literature - especially American literature. Probably.
I finished most of the gospel of John. My lack of posts about it does not reflect my lack of reading it. It only reflects my abundance of laziness.
Preoccupation. A trimming, disorganized operation of preoccupation. In my head.
That's all for now. If I think of something else, I'll just make another post. Heh.
Sunday, 12:14 PM
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
how are you? august 6. now august 7.
I feel like i have nothing to talk about. Like, I haven't done anything worth talking about. I've been home all day. I guess i could talk about how I have nothing to talk about, but that's too much for me. too, whatever. boring, i guess.
i feel sick. not mentally, physically. i have a cold. my throat is sore, and i have a runny nose.
i don't feel like i can move around my house anymore. the guy rebuilding the kitchen is here all day, and then there's less space in the living room, and i feel like i can't relax anywhere anymore. and it's driving me a little crazy.
my mom is kind of weird. she doesn't want to leave the guy working in our house by himself, so if she's going out, she'll make sure to tell me to keep an eye on him. she locks the doors to her bedroom, and to my sisters room. (we live in a single story house, by the way.)
my mom is weird. she never goes anywhere without make-up. even if she's going out for a walk - she'll get up fifteen minutes earlier to put on make-up.
not that i'm judging or anything. it's just unnecessary to me.
i try not to judge other people. it's gotten easier for me, because usually i just ignore other people. haha. i do subconsciously sometimes. i can be really, really mean to people, and i don't like that about myself. i make a lot of jokes at peoples' expense.
i think about the next few years, and i think, 'yeah, i wonder what will happen?' you know, anything can happen in two years. it's exciting to me. like, it makes you feel anxious and worried, yet also eager to see what will happen.
a lot of the time, i want good things to happen to me even though they have no reason for happening. like getting good grades is a big example of that. in school, i was like, 'study? nah. let's watch another episode of American Dad!' friendships are another thing. 'my friends will invite me to hang out this friday, no worries.' and when they don't, 'what the hell? why didn't anyone text me?'
um, this post is really introspective. that's what happens when you sit at home all day.
not true. i went out around 11 am to a lawnmower shop. my dad wanted me to take an old lawnmower bag to get replaced. when i got there, the little shop was empty. 5 minutes later, there were about 5 or 6 customers waiting and talking.
there was this woman, probably in her late 40s, mid 50s, who went in to get these big yellow shears fixed. she smiled at me when she walked in. she seemed like she wanted to talk, because she kept looking over at me, and tried starting a conversation by saying, in spanish, "it's hot today, isn't it?" "yes." "it's hotter in here than it is outside." "yes." that's when the person behind the counter came back with her yellow shears. the woman told the person working there that her husband had died, and that she had to do all the yard work herself. that made me sad. geez, and she seemed so young too. when you hear that someone's husband or wife died, you kind expect them to be 70 or 80 years old, not 40. it's too young. people shouldn't die that young.
i need to get out more. you know what i'd like to do? find a club or something and talk to people with similar interests as me. i tried joining the poetry and writing club at school a few times. i think i wrote about it a couple of years ago. i don't know if it's worth looking it up. nah, it's not.
side note: two years ago. . . my blog doesn't even feel like mine. i'm not the same person from two years ago. similarities, yes; the same, no. i can't even remember writing anything from two years ago. it's a lifetime.
joining the poetry and writing club didn't really work out so well. as it turns out, i don' really like writers. haha. i mean other writers. to be fair, i generally don't like being around people anyway. but there are certain types of people i don't like in particular. there are some exceptions, i know, but the writer type i encountered at my school was specifically annoying to me. egocentric, either genuinely or, more often, attempted to act eccentric, talkative (opposite of me), constantly making jokes which could be funny, but more times than not, were not. those were the social writer types. Oh, and by the way, not particularly writing good stuff, but that's not fair, because i'm not a master or expert at writing either, so. . . only a slight annoyance. plus, they usually thought their writing was hot stuff, which i admit sometimes it was, but more often than not it wasn't. which annoyed me, because i then realized i acted the same way, and my stuff wasn't too hot either.
those were the social writers. then there were the quiet ones - usually woman, usually small, usually looking down a lot. these types didn't annoy me as much, but they were the minority that i knew. they were also the ones reading all the time - the "real" writer types, i want to say. like, the ones who find peace and expression in writing, and not the ones who like the image of writer more than writing (coughhypocrisycough).
other types of people i generally don't like: theater people, and band people. the former because they're weirdly open people - too open; the latter because of the bad experience i had the year i was in marching band.
have i told you about my bad expereince in marching band my freshman year of high school?
other side note: i feel like i talk about high school too much. it's like, move on already. i guess i still have some lingering feelings about it. . . ? i'll try to get past this. it's just that i've never told anyone about all these things before. i'm usually so flippant and irreverent in real life that people never know my true thoughts.
high school marching band: from what i can remember. i remember the summer before, learning how to march, going to school every day, seeing all these new people. it felt like everyone already knew each other. none of my friends from middle school band were in the same high school as me, so i felt really out of place.
'why didn't you try making new friends?' you may ask. in my experience, band people can be cool, nice people; but they can also be very selfish and arrogant. and it's not even really that that was the issue with making new friends. it was more to due with my own low level of self-confidence, my poor social skills, and my weakened social circle. it seems easier to make friends, when you've already got some friends.
that summer wasn't too great. then school started. i remember going to tournaments, how i wouldn't even talk to anyone as i was dressing, how no one spoke to me on the bus, how the only people to speak to me during competitions were the people in my section (saxophone). i also remember the excitement and thrill right before a performance in front of a crowd. that was fun. yet, the isolation and lonely feelings i had inside made me realize that i didn't have a single friend in the 100 people in marching band. and when you're supposed to act like a team with 100 other people, and none of those people want to hang out with you, it's hard to have fun. you could say that maybe i didn't try or put the effort in to know people, and maybe there's a bit of truth to that, but i didn't feel that way. and i still don't. i tried talking to people. i tried hanging around other people. i tried finding a group to hang out, and joke around with. i tried fitting in. and i couldn't. it never happened. maybe it was my fault, for my weak socializing. i can understand that. that doesn't mean that i still wasn't lonely.
further memories: i remember some people in my middle school band were there; not exactly friends, but people i was friendly with. i remember how uncool i thought they were in middle school. then i remember how popular they became in marching band. and i thought, How? like i said, it seemed that everyone already knew each other, people were in relationships already, small groups had already been made. and there i was, sitting with no one in particular during band camp, waiting for people to look at me, watching the other people talking on the bus and in class. i had no one to talk to, no one to be with.
that's the real reason i quit.
People/Things That Make Me Happy:
The Ricky Gervais Show, Karl Pilkington
the album Substance by New Order
finishing a book
having written something that day
a good night of d&d
having someone who understands your sense of humor - that's the worst, i think, when someone doesn't think you're funny.
making my sister laugh, my sister
cold weather
blog comments
when a stranger gives you a sincere little smile
the ambition of one day living in my own apartment, house
driving my car
Two more quick things: I finished A Streetcar Named Desire; I think I have ringworm on my forehead. (I'm just a fountain of good health, aren't I?)
PS: sorry for typos, poor grammar, wonky sentences, and incompletely paragraphs. i don't feel like editing right now.
i feel sick. not mentally, physically. i have a cold. my throat is sore, and i have a runny nose.
i don't feel like i can move around my house anymore. the guy rebuilding the kitchen is here all day, and then there's less space in the living room, and i feel like i can't relax anywhere anymore. and it's driving me a little crazy.
my mom is kind of weird. she doesn't want to leave the guy working in our house by himself, so if she's going out, she'll make sure to tell me to keep an eye on him. she locks the doors to her bedroom, and to my sisters room. (we live in a single story house, by the way.)
my mom is weird. she never goes anywhere without make-up. even if she's going out for a walk - she'll get up fifteen minutes earlier to put on make-up.
not that i'm judging or anything. it's just unnecessary to me.
i try not to judge other people. it's gotten easier for me, because usually i just ignore other people. haha. i do subconsciously sometimes. i can be really, really mean to people, and i don't like that about myself. i make a lot of jokes at peoples' expense.
i think about the next few years, and i think, 'yeah, i wonder what will happen?' you know, anything can happen in two years. it's exciting to me. like, it makes you feel anxious and worried, yet also eager to see what will happen.
a lot of the time, i want good things to happen to me even though they have no reason for happening. like getting good grades is a big example of that. in school, i was like, 'study? nah. let's watch another episode of American Dad!' friendships are another thing. 'my friends will invite me to hang out this friday, no worries.' and when they don't, 'what the hell? why didn't anyone text me?'
um, this post is really introspective. that's what happens when you sit at home all day.
not true. i went out around 11 am to a lawnmower shop. my dad wanted me to take an old lawnmower bag to get replaced. when i got there, the little shop was empty. 5 minutes later, there were about 5 or 6 customers waiting and talking.
there was this woman, probably in her late 40s, mid 50s, who went in to get these big yellow shears fixed. she smiled at me when she walked in. she seemed like she wanted to talk, because she kept looking over at me, and tried starting a conversation by saying, in spanish, "it's hot today, isn't it?" "yes." "it's hotter in here than it is outside." "yes." that's when the person behind the counter came back with her yellow shears. the woman told the person working there that her husband had died, and that she had to do all the yard work herself. that made me sad. geez, and she seemed so young too. when you hear that someone's husband or wife died, you kind expect them to be 70 or 80 years old, not 40. it's too young. people shouldn't die that young.
i need to get out more. you know what i'd like to do? find a club or something and talk to people with similar interests as me. i tried joining the poetry and writing club at school a few times. i think i wrote about it a couple of years ago. i don't know if it's worth looking it up. nah, it's not.
side note: two years ago. . . my blog doesn't even feel like mine. i'm not the same person from two years ago. similarities, yes; the same, no. i can't even remember writing anything from two years ago. it's a lifetime.
joining the poetry and writing club didn't really work out so well. as it turns out, i don' really like writers. haha. i mean other writers. to be fair, i generally don't like being around people anyway. but there are certain types of people i don't like in particular. there are some exceptions, i know, but the writer type i encountered at my school was specifically annoying to me. egocentric, either genuinely or, more often, attempted to act eccentric, talkative (opposite of me), constantly making jokes which could be funny, but more times than not, were not. those were the social writer types. Oh, and by the way, not particularly writing good stuff, but that's not fair, because i'm not a master or expert at writing either, so. . . only a slight annoyance. plus, they usually thought their writing was hot stuff, which i admit sometimes it was, but more often than not it wasn't. which annoyed me, because i then realized i acted the same way, and my stuff wasn't too hot either.
those were the social writers. then there were the quiet ones - usually woman, usually small, usually looking down a lot. these types didn't annoy me as much, but they were the minority that i knew. they were also the ones reading all the time - the "real" writer types, i want to say. like, the ones who find peace and expression in writing, and not the ones who like the image of writer more than writing (coughhypocrisycough).
other types of people i generally don't like: theater people, and band people. the former because they're weirdly open people - too open; the latter because of the bad experience i had the year i was in marching band.
have i told you about my bad expereince in marching band my freshman year of high school?
other side note: i feel like i talk about high school too much. it's like, move on already. i guess i still have some lingering feelings about it. . . ? i'll try to get past this. it's just that i've never told anyone about all these things before. i'm usually so flippant and irreverent in real life that people never know my true thoughts.
high school marching band: from what i can remember. i remember the summer before, learning how to march, going to school every day, seeing all these new people. it felt like everyone already knew each other. none of my friends from middle school band were in the same high school as me, so i felt really out of place.
'why didn't you try making new friends?' you may ask. in my experience, band people can be cool, nice people; but they can also be very selfish and arrogant. and it's not even really that that was the issue with making new friends. it was more to due with my own low level of self-confidence, my poor social skills, and my weakened social circle. it seems easier to make friends, when you've already got some friends.
that summer wasn't too great. then school started. i remember going to tournaments, how i wouldn't even talk to anyone as i was dressing, how no one spoke to me on the bus, how the only people to speak to me during competitions were the people in my section (saxophone). i also remember the excitement and thrill right before a performance in front of a crowd. that was fun. yet, the isolation and lonely feelings i had inside made me realize that i didn't have a single friend in the 100 people in marching band. and when you're supposed to act like a team with 100 other people, and none of those people want to hang out with you, it's hard to have fun. you could say that maybe i didn't try or put the effort in to know people, and maybe there's a bit of truth to that, but i didn't feel that way. and i still don't. i tried talking to people. i tried hanging around other people. i tried finding a group to hang out, and joke around with. i tried fitting in. and i couldn't. it never happened. maybe it was my fault, for my weak socializing. i can understand that. that doesn't mean that i still wasn't lonely.
further memories: i remember some people in my middle school band were there; not exactly friends, but people i was friendly with. i remember how uncool i thought they were in middle school. then i remember how popular they became in marching band. and i thought, How? like i said, it seemed that everyone already knew each other, people were in relationships already, small groups had already been made. and there i was, sitting with no one in particular during band camp, waiting for people to look at me, watching the other people talking on the bus and in class. i had no one to talk to, no one to be with.
that's the real reason i quit.
People/Things That Make Me Happy:
The Ricky Gervais Show, Karl Pilkington
the album Substance by New Order
finishing a book
having written something that day
a good night of d&d
having someone who understands your sense of humor - that's the worst, i think, when someone doesn't think you're funny.
making my sister laugh, my sister
cold weather
blog comments
when a stranger gives you a sincere little smile
the ambition of one day living in my own apartment, house
driving my car
Two more quick things: I finished A Streetcar Named Desire; I think I have ringworm on my forehead. (I'm just a fountain of good health, aren't I?)
PS: sorry for typos, poor grammar, wonky sentences, and incompletely paragraphs. i don't feel like editing right now.
Monday, August 5, 2013
august 5, 2013 - good morning
i feel good this morning, even though i haven't eaten or done anything. i feel happier.
(this gets kinda sad towards the end. also a bit weird.)
it's probably not good to flucuate between emotions so much. happy one morning, lonely that night. depressed at lunch, excited between 8 and midnight. it seems exhausting.
it seems much better to find contentment in our lives. the highs aren't as pleasing, but the lows aren't as crushing.
in other news, i have not much going on in my life right now.
i'm sitting in my room right now, thinking about what i should do today.
when it comes to friends, it seems that i want the best of both worlds. i want friends to want me to hang out with them, yet i don't want to hang out with them. i want to feel wanted, but i don't want to be around other people.
i need to go out more often. i get sick if i stay inside my house all day. i get bored and unhappy.
it seems that every few months i grow sick of my friends, and make plans to abandon them. well, not abandon. you know what i mean: stop hanging out with them. and for the past few years, i think i haven't fully left them because i had no where else to go. you know? for me, especially because i'm fearful and reserved, it's hard to leave the familiar and comfortable. sometimes, you want to talk to new people. you get tired of being scared all the time, and you decide to leave the old in hope of finding someone or something new. something that's better for you in this certain time of your life. something richer for you to step into and aspire to. something beyond what you are now.
I finished The One And Only Ivan today. It's a children's literature book by Katherine Applegate. For the first time in recent memory, I said to myself as I was reading: "I can do this. I can be an author and write a book like this."
Have i ever told you that i never appeared in my senior year high school yearbook? i never went to take my senior pictures, so i'm not in the yearbook. at all, i think. haha, i think that's a good representation of my high school years.
it's not so embarrassing to talk about now, but the reason i didn't take my senior year pictures is because i was extremely self-conscious in high school. you see. . . well, you see, from the middle/end of eighth grade to about two years ago - from 14 to 20 years old, i guess - i had warts on my fingers. like, really noticeable, big warts. they were on seven of my fingers, right against my nails. only my two pinkies and the middle finger on my left hand were unaffected.
i felt really bad all the time because of them. i didn't feel comfortable or able to socialize normally. i hid my hands everywhere. i couldn't do things that required touching or holding something. even eating at a restaurant was embarrassing, because i didn't want people to see the warts as i held a utensil. it hurt so much to not be able to be normal around other people because i was soo ashamed of my hands. i felt unaccepted, and not normal. i felt uglier and weirder than everyone else. i felt bad because i didn't think i was capable of being loved as i was.
now i wonder why i have so much social anxiety. haha. at least the warts are gone. and even though i didn't take my senior pictures with the school, my mom insisted i have pictures from my senior year. she took me to a photo place and had graduation-type pictures taken there. i was painfully self-conscious, and the photgrapher did see the warts on my hands, but she kindly didn't say anything. in the portrait that she took, you can see a wart on my thumb.
now i wonder why i don't like being around people.
body image is a very unique thing. it's how we see ourselves, but also how we think others see us.
you know, i started to work out because i wanted to have an attractive body. i wanted women to like me. but in the past three months, it's occurred to me that no matter how much i work, no matter how good my body looks, it's all kind of pointless. it's pointless because I didn't like the way i looked, so what did it matter if other people liked the way i looked? as i was working out all of last year, i only thought about how other people would see me, how impressed they'd be; i never put the effort forward to please myself, which is most important. people can't accept you if you can't accept yourself, won't accept you if you don't accept yourself. at least not the acceptance that satisfies your need for true companionship. a deep-rooted, flawed, painful acceptance.
and most of the time, i think, if a person likes you, they'll care less about what you look like, and focus more on who you are. the personality is much more powerful than any muscle group in your body. the body gets old, and you can't stay in shape forever. but the mind just keeps going most of your life, and with each passing year, grows in the experiences it gathers.
and i think that's pretty cool, because it means i don't have to worry about working out so much.
(this gets kinda sad towards the end. also a bit weird.)
it's probably not good to flucuate between emotions so much. happy one morning, lonely that night. depressed at lunch, excited between 8 and midnight. it seems exhausting.
it seems much better to find contentment in our lives. the highs aren't as pleasing, but the lows aren't as crushing.
in other news, i have not much going on in my life right now.
i'm sitting in my room right now, thinking about what i should do today.
when it comes to friends, it seems that i want the best of both worlds. i want friends to want me to hang out with them, yet i don't want to hang out with them. i want to feel wanted, but i don't want to be around other people.
i need to go out more often. i get sick if i stay inside my house all day. i get bored and unhappy.
it seems that every few months i grow sick of my friends, and make plans to abandon them. well, not abandon. you know what i mean: stop hanging out with them. and for the past few years, i think i haven't fully left them because i had no where else to go. you know? for me, especially because i'm fearful and reserved, it's hard to leave the familiar and comfortable. sometimes, you want to talk to new people. you get tired of being scared all the time, and you decide to leave the old in hope of finding someone or something new. something that's better for you in this certain time of your life. something richer for you to step into and aspire to. something beyond what you are now.
I finished The One And Only Ivan today. It's a children's literature book by Katherine Applegate. For the first time in recent memory, I said to myself as I was reading: "I can do this. I can be an author and write a book like this."
Have i ever told you that i never appeared in my senior year high school yearbook? i never went to take my senior pictures, so i'm not in the yearbook. at all, i think. haha, i think that's a good representation of my high school years.
it's not so embarrassing to talk about now, but the reason i didn't take my senior year pictures is because i was extremely self-conscious in high school. you see. . . well, you see, from the middle/end of eighth grade to about two years ago - from 14 to 20 years old, i guess - i had warts on my fingers. like, really noticeable, big warts. they were on seven of my fingers, right against my nails. only my two pinkies and the middle finger on my left hand were unaffected.
i felt really bad all the time because of them. i didn't feel comfortable or able to socialize normally. i hid my hands everywhere. i couldn't do things that required touching or holding something. even eating at a restaurant was embarrassing, because i didn't want people to see the warts as i held a utensil. it hurt so much to not be able to be normal around other people because i was soo ashamed of my hands. i felt unaccepted, and not normal. i felt uglier and weirder than everyone else. i felt bad because i didn't think i was capable of being loved as i was.
now i wonder why i have so much social anxiety. haha. at least the warts are gone. and even though i didn't take my senior pictures with the school, my mom insisted i have pictures from my senior year. she took me to a photo place and had graduation-type pictures taken there. i was painfully self-conscious, and the photgrapher did see the warts on my hands, but she kindly didn't say anything. in the portrait that she took, you can see a wart on my thumb.
now i wonder why i don't like being around people.
body image is a very unique thing. it's how we see ourselves, but also how we think others see us.
you know, i started to work out because i wanted to have an attractive body. i wanted women to like me. but in the past three months, it's occurred to me that no matter how much i work, no matter how good my body looks, it's all kind of pointless. it's pointless because I didn't like the way i looked, so what did it matter if other people liked the way i looked? as i was working out all of last year, i only thought about how other people would see me, how impressed they'd be; i never put the effort forward to please myself, which is most important. people can't accept you if you can't accept yourself, won't accept you if you don't accept yourself. at least not the acceptance that satisfies your need for true companionship. a deep-rooted, flawed, painful acceptance.
and most of the time, i think, if a person likes you, they'll care less about what you look like, and focus more on who you are. the personality is much more powerful than any muscle group in your body. the body gets old, and you can't stay in shape forever. but the mind just keeps going most of your life, and with each passing year, grows in the experiences it gathers.
and i think that's pretty cool, because it means i don't have to worry about working out so much.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
supposition - thoughts for this morning
I suppose one day I'll be married and have kids. It seems inevitable. the way I suppose that I'll die one day. It's one of those things.
I have no clue when and where it'll happen. Maybe I'll buy some underwear at Target when it happens. Maybe I'll have my feet dangling off a building when it happens.
This contractor my parents hired to remodel the kitchen. . . my parents are getting fed-up with him.
Watched the X Games Women's Street Skating final. It was good. Now I'm watching the men's street preliminaries.
Don't know what i'm going to do today, saturday. we're not working today, my dad and I.
still excited for school orientation. it's in a couple of weeks.
i think i'll read today. write some more.
yesterday, my friends invited me to hang out with them. i declined. i don't feel like hanging out with them. i don't fee like doing the same shit over and over again with them. i don't feel like hanging out around some of those people. i just don't. i'm sick of some of them. not my main friends, the subsidiary ones. some of those guys i actually dislike. some of them are assholes - bigger assholes than me. i can't talk to them; we have nothing in common, nor do we have any interest in each others' lives. is it better to suffer through a bad relationship, than to have no relationship at all? sometimes it is.
it's sunny today. that's nice.
saw an old asian lady wearing a floppy pink hat yesterday. saw an old asian man with gray sweatpants up to his armpits (or nearly there).
have you ever had an urge to buy stuff just because you get some money? i have that impulse all the time. stuff i don't even want. like a playstation 4, or a nintendo 3ds. stuff that i won't even use.
i need some t-shirts. i want to start wearing black more often. i think it's my color. goths are misunderstood. i'm not goth. i just like their colors.
need a haircut, but am too lazy. i'm not sure if i want to keep growing a beard or not. growing is not the word i'd use. i don't care about my facial hair. that's a more accurate sentiment of the fact. i don't even notice it until people start pointing it out. "what is that, a beard!" my uncle would say. "growing your hair out? i like it," my aunt would say. my response would be, Am I?
each day is another chance. when you wake up in the morning, you have new energy. use that energy to work towards a goal that day. squandering that energy is sad. the point of life is to work until night, then sleep, and get up the next day to work again.
at least that's how i feel when i'm working.
I have no clue when and where it'll happen. Maybe I'll buy some underwear at Target when it happens. Maybe I'll have my feet dangling off a building when it happens.
This contractor my parents hired to remodel the kitchen. . . my parents are getting fed-up with him.
Watched the X Games Women's Street Skating final. It was good. Now I'm watching the men's street preliminaries.
Don't know what i'm going to do today, saturday. we're not working today, my dad and I.
still excited for school orientation. it's in a couple of weeks.
i think i'll read today. write some more.
yesterday, my friends invited me to hang out with them. i declined. i don't feel like hanging out with them. i don't fee like doing the same shit over and over again with them. i don't feel like hanging out around some of those people. i just don't. i'm sick of some of them. not my main friends, the subsidiary ones. some of those guys i actually dislike. some of them are assholes - bigger assholes than me. i can't talk to them; we have nothing in common, nor do we have any interest in each others' lives. is it better to suffer through a bad relationship, than to have no relationship at all? sometimes it is.
it's sunny today. that's nice.
saw an old asian lady wearing a floppy pink hat yesterday. saw an old asian man with gray sweatpants up to his armpits (or nearly there).
have you ever had an urge to buy stuff just because you get some money? i have that impulse all the time. stuff i don't even want. like a playstation 4, or a nintendo 3ds. stuff that i won't even use.
i need some t-shirts. i want to start wearing black more often. i think it's my color. goths are misunderstood. i'm not goth. i just like their colors.
need a haircut, but am too lazy. i'm not sure if i want to keep growing a beard or not. growing is not the word i'd use. i don't care about my facial hair. that's a more accurate sentiment of the fact. i don't even notice it until people start pointing it out. "what is that, a beard!" my uncle would say. "growing your hair out? i like it," my aunt would say. my response would be, Am I?
each day is another chance. when you wake up in the morning, you have new energy. use that energy to work towards a goal that day. squandering that energy is sad. the point of life is to work until night, then sleep, and get up the next day to work again.
at least that's how i feel when i'm working.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
the first day of august
i have a feeling that it's going to be a good month. how do i know? blind hope. it's a hullava lot more practical than thinking it's gonna be a bad month, anyway.
there are some things i want to talk about. i wrote them down during work on a business card i found. too bad i can't read what i crammed on there.
Things I Saw Today:
little black girl sitting in the back of a Lexus. She had all of her short hair tied straight up on the top of her head with a yellow scrunchie. she was probably 3 or 4 years old.
guy selling flowers at a stoplight. he was middle aged, clean shaven, light brown skin. he had on a white t-shirt that looked like he got it for free at a promotional event or something. he walked down the street as we waited for the green light, holding up two bouquets of roses to the cars ahead of us. then he spots us, the gardeners, and starts whistling. he's thinking, 'what the hell do gardener's want with beautiful roses?' he quickly passes us and holds up the bouquets, but only for about a second, and doesn't even bother making eye contact.
guy smoking something in an alley in Venice. i saw the Pacific Ocean today. we clean a house right next to the Venice boardwalk. we parked behind the house in the alley. we see a older, probably homeless white guy with a thick beard stroll under some apartments. when we come back half an hour later, the air smells funny around the alley. i look under the apartments where the parking spaces are for the tenants. the guy is sitting against the wall, smoking a joint. at least i'm pretty sure it was a joint. it could have been shitty weed he was smoking, because the alley smell really unpleasant. he might have smoked crack.
imagine an Elliptical - you know, those stepping machines at the gym - attached to handle bars and three wheels. yeah, saw a guy riding one today - standing up and Ellipticalling - - (not a word). he rode down the street, like a bike, only not a bike. the helmet didn't help his coolness points.
some cashier at Rite Aid was shaking with cold as she checked-out customers' items. i think the AC vents were blowing directly down on her, the entrance blew in cold air whenever it opened, and the freezer of the nearby ice cream section must have been cranked all the way up because i could feel the freezing refrigeration while i stood in line. the cashier faced a perfect storm of shiver-inducing icy frigidness. I only said three things to her: "No thank you," "Have a good day," and "Stay warm." She chuckled when i said that.
a couple of twenty-five-year-olds stood next to each other on a bridge overlooking the 405 freeway. they were alone on that long bridge. i saw them through a green mesh. the mesh is there to prevent anyone from falling over the railing. i could still see the colors of their clothes: the girl wore a black t-shirt; the guy wore a gray t-shirt. they stood an arms length apart. every so often the guy would lift his right arm out, and the girl would take something from his hand. a little while later, she did the same thing with her left arm. they were getting high, I think.
That's about everything i can remember.
Oh, I'm not dreading work tomorrow like I usually do.
I'm getting very excited for school to start. I want to graduate already. Two years - which is probably what i'll take me to finish - seems like an impossibly long amount of time away. I will not waste my time like I did the previous two years. The past two years have been chaotic and underachieving for my school work. I'm making an effort to change my destructive habits.
I don't look forward to the first day of class. That's always surreal. At least for me. You can't imagine ever getting to know any of these strangers around you. Now that I think about it, living in dorms, you have the advantage of knowing a lot of people already. In commuting colleges, you don't. At the same time, I get to go home at the end of each day. Take the good with the bad, I guess.
Or maybe you don't already know people. I don't know anything about living in dorms.
My friend from San Francisco called me yesterday, asking me if i wanted to hang out. i said i was too tired from work - which i was. i said friday would be better. the other guys will probably be doing something anyway. he said it was fine. we talked for a bit. it's weird how unfamiliar we are to each other. after two years apart, i don't know any of his speaking rhythms anymore. i tried to make a few jokes, and he continued talking like he didn't even hear me. i wonder what the future holds for us. And to be honest, i don't even really want to hang out with him.
Even More Things That I Like:
when people are happy to hear 'please' and 'thank you'
really fit older people - like fifty, sixty, and seventy year olds who are toned and muscular
the smell of coffee - although i don't drink coffee
driving with the windows down, going 70 mph
old women who happily smile at you before you smile at them
the power of floss
the frothy first sip of a can of Coke - i had one this morning for the first time in about 3 years
when bicyclists don't get in the way of traffic
when people look both ways and are not looking down at their cell phones when they use crosswalks
peeing when you're ready to explode in your underwear
the powers of allergy pills
turkey, bacon, avocado at subway
sitting down for the first time in four hours
after a long day's work, walking around barefoot in shorts - bonus points for walking on cold hardwood or tile
being nice to Jehovah's Witness that i sometimes run into on Saturdays - they're generally pretty nice people
cleaning under my fingernails with my pocket knife
having money in my wallet
when i pull out my phone and it's already on - my old phone turns itself off a lot
lying on the floor with a pillow or a soft jacket
moonlight - a full moon casts shadows! very cool
the start of rain - when you first feel a drop on your skin, and you look up at the overcast sky and ask, "is it raining?"
people who smell good when they walk past you - woman with nice perfume or soap, men with subtle cologne or soap
oh yeah, we did those big apartments yesterday where the really kind woman lives. yesterday, she gave us water, popsicles, and ice cream cones filled with caramel. really sweet of her.
there are some things i want to talk about. i wrote them down during work on a business card i found. too bad i can't read what i crammed on there.
Things I Saw Today:
little black girl sitting in the back of a Lexus. She had all of her short hair tied straight up on the top of her head with a yellow scrunchie. she was probably 3 or 4 years old.
guy selling flowers at a stoplight. he was middle aged, clean shaven, light brown skin. he had on a white t-shirt that looked like he got it for free at a promotional event or something. he walked down the street as we waited for the green light, holding up two bouquets of roses to the cars ahead of us. then he spots us, the gardeners, and starts whistling. he's thinking, 'what the hell do gardener's want with beautiful roses?' he quickly passes us and holds up the bouquets, but only for about a second, and doesn't even bother making eye contact.
guy smoking something in an alley in Venice. i saw the Pacific Ocean today. we clean a house right next to the Venice boardwalk. we parked behind the house in the alley. we see a older, probably homeless white guy with a thick beard stroll under some apartments. when we come back half an hour later, the air smells funny around the alley. i look under the apartments where the parking spaces are for the tenants. the guy is sitting against the wall, smoking a joint. at least i'm pretty sure it was a joint. it could have been shitty weed he was smoking, because the alley smell really unpleasant. he might have smoked crack.
imagine an Elliptical - you know, those stepping machines at the gym - attached to handle bars and three wheels. yeah, saw a guy riding one today - standing up and Ellipticalling - - (not a word). he rode down the street, like a bike, only not a bike. the helmet didn't help his coolness points.
some cashier at Rite Aid was shaking with cold as she checked-out customers' items. i think the AC vents were blowing directly down on her, the entrance blew in cold air whenever it opened, and the freezer of the nearby ice cream section must have been cranked all the way up because i could feel the freezing refrigeration while i stood in line. the cashier faced a perfect storm of shiver-inducing icy frigidness. I only said three things to her: "No thank you," "Have a good day," and "Stay warm." She chuckled when i said that.
a couple of twenty-five-year-olds stood next to each other on a bridge overlooking the 405 freeway. they were alone on that long bridge. i saw them through a green mesh. the mesh is there to prevent anyone from falling over the railing. i could still see the colors of their clothes: the girl wore a black t-shirt; the guy wore a gray t-shirt. they stood an arms length apart. every so often the guy would lift his right arm out, and the girl would take something from his hand. a little while later, she did the same thing with her left arm. they were getting high, I think.
That's about everything i can remember.
Oh, I'm not dreading work tomorrow like I usually do.
I'm getting very excited for school to start. I want to graduate already. Two years - which is probably what i'll take me to finish - seems like an impossibly long amount of time away. I will not waste my time like I did the previous two years. The past two years have been chaotic and underachieving for my school work. I'm making an effort to change my destructive habits.
I don't look forward to the first day of class. That's always surreal. At least for me. You can't imagine ever getting to know any of these strangers around you. Now that I think about it, living in dorms, you have the advantage of knowing a lot of people already. In commuting colleges, you don't. At the same time, I get to go home at the end of each day. Take the good with the bad, I guess.
Or maybe you don't already know people. I don't know anything about living in dorms.
My friend from San Francisco called me yesterday, asking me if i wanted to hang out. i said i was too tired from work - which i was. i said friday would be better. the other guys will probably be doing something anyway. he said it was fine. we talked for a bit. it's weird how unfamiliar we are to each other. after two years apart, i don't know any of his speaking rhythms anymore. i tried to make a few jokes, and he continued talking like he didn't even hear me. i wonder what the future holds for us. And to be honest, i don't even really want to hang out with him.
Even More Things That I Like:
when people are happy to hear 'please' and 'thank you'
really fit older people - like fifty, sixty, and seventy year olds who are toned and muscular
the smell of coffee - although i don't drink coffee
driving with the windows down, going 70 mph
old women who happily smile at you before you smile at them
the power of floss
the frothy first sip of a can of Coke - i had one this morning for the first time in about 3 years
when bicyclists don't get in the way of traffic
when people look both ways and are not looking down at their cell phones when they use crosswalks
peeing when you're ready to explode in your underwear
the powers of allergy pills
turkey, bacon, avocado at subway
sitting down for the first time in four hours
after a long day's work, walking around barefoot in shorts - bonus points for walking on cold hardwood or tile
being nice to Jehovah's Witness that i sometimes run into on Saturdays - they're generally pretty nice people
cleaning under my fingernails with my pocket knife
having money in my wallet
when i pull out my phone and it's already on - my old phone turns itself off a lot
lying on the floor with a pillow or a soft jacket
moonlight - a full moon casts shadows! very cool
the start of rain - when you first feel a drop on your skin, and you look up at the overcast sky and ask, "is it raining?"
people who smell good when they walk past you - woman with nice perfume or soap, men with subtle cologne or soap
oh yeah, we did those big apartments yesterday where the really kind woman lives. yesterday, she gave us water, popsicles, and ice cream cones filled with caramel. really sweet of her.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
i am a dancing machine
i want to talk about a few things on my mind today.
went to work around 7:30, got home at 8. there was three of us today; recently it's just been my dad and me. since school is starting soon, my dad is looking for a permanent worker. his last one quit at the start of summer because he found a better situation elsewhere. that's why i've been helping my dad so much. not for the money, because i don't need money right now. not in the way that if i don't have $50 i'll be homeless. the money comes secondary to helping my dad. and he does need a lot of help, because the work he does is tough. today, alone, i think i mowed the equivalent of 16 houses. let's see. . . 7 here, 4 there, the big apartments in Inglewood at least count as 4, then there's the 2 places across the street. Yeah, 16 or 17 houses. Plus, cleaning and raking and lifting heavy containers full of cut grass. Damn, i'm pretty tired right now.
oh yeah, this afternoon we were waiting in the truck for my dad, eating hamburgers for lunch, and the new guy played the same song on his phone for about forty-five minutes. he likes ranchera music. 'It is a beautiful day. . . Let's go out and have fun!. . .There will be woman, beer, and wine. . . OoOoOoOoooOOOOOhhh!'
I wish i knew what the song was. not really.
haha, i actually do really like that kind of music. i grew up around it, so how could i not? it's in my bones and muscle: the things i need to dance with the hips.
On the drive home, we also heard this one on the radio, which is a staple of any Mexican/Latin wedding/birthday/family gathering with 80 people/party, mainly with family, with 85 people. 'Oh how it hurts me, how it hurts me, how it hurts me, that they should take you out to dance!' They play this song every time. Every time. And everyone goes crazy! Instant dance floor filler. You thinking I'm kidding? I'm not kidding. Every time there's a DJ and a dance floor. This song will come on that night. People will get up and dance. Guaranteed.
haha, i'm nothing like that guy singing. i have been around that culture a lot, though. the macho man culture. boots, trucks, cowboy hats, tight trousers, exposed chest, drinking coronas. it's all there.
on the corner of western and 55th street today, a tall white cop was talking to a young black woman. he had shades on, and he was leaning with one arm straightened on the wall - like if he was at a bar chatting her up. the girl, maybe around 16 or 17, wore gray shorts with flowers on them. she had her hands behind her back, as she stared up listening to the cop.
i smiled when i saw a 30 year old black guy walking down the street with his 2 year old son. he placed his hand on top of his son's small round head, guiding him away from walking into a wall or something. his kid had a big protruding belly under a white tank-top, and his face was chubby and brown.
More Thing That I Like:
finishing work for the day
quiet car rides home - coming from a party or something
ice in my drink
that big stretch when you wake up
when traffic lights stay green even though i'm far away
when a song i like comes on the radio
putting on clean clothes
going to the movies by myself
...just thought of more
ranchera music - music of the rancho
absurd movies - zoolander, dodgeball, anchorman come to mind
eating fruit - especially if it's already sliced-up
being somewhere early - although i rarely am
getting up before sunrise
putting clean sheets on my bed
the chilly freeze of ocean wind - last time i said cool wind, which i felt didn't exactly fit
riding on a skateboard
thinking you'll see someone you don't want to see somewhere, and never seeing them
living through a fear and feeling okay
That's all i can come up with for now. there should be more. i'll come up with even more later.
went to work around 7:30, got home at 8. there was three of us today; recently it's just been my dad and me. since school is starting soon, my dad is looking for a permanent worker. his last one quit at the start of summer because he found a better situation elsewhere. that's why i've been helping my dad so much. not for the money, because i don't need money right now. not in the way that if i don't have $50 i'll be homeless. the money comes secondary to helping my dad. and he does need a lot of help, because the work he does is tough. today, alone, i think i mowed the equivalent of 16 houses. let's see. . . 7 here, 4 there, the big apartments in Inglewood at least count as 4, then there's the 2 places across the street. Yeah, 16 or 17 houses. Plus, cleaning and raking and lifting heavy containers full of cut grass. Damn, i'm pretty tired right now.
oh yeah, this afternoon we were waiting in the truck for my dad, eating hamburgers for lunch, and the new guy played the same song on his phone for about forty-five minutes. he likes ranchera music. 'It is a beautiful day. . . Let's go out and have fun!. . .There will be woman, beer, and wine. . . OoOoOoOoooOOOOOhhh!'
I wish i knew what the song was. not really.
haha, i actually do really like that kind of music. i grew up around it, so how could i not? it's in my bones and muscle: the things i need to dance with the hips.
On the drive home, we also heard this one on the radio, which is a staple of any Mexican/Latin wedding/birthday/family gathering with 80 people/party, mainly with family, with 85 people. 'Oh how it hurts me, how it hurts me, how it hurts me, that they should take you out to dance!' They play this song every time. Every time. And everyone goes crazy! Instant dance floor filler. You thinking I'm kidding? I'm not kidding. Every time there's a DJ and a dance floor. This song will come on that night. People will get up and dance. Guaranteed.
haha, i'm nothing like that guy singing. i have been around that culture a lot, though. the macho man culture. boots, trucks, cowboy hats, tight trousers, exposed chest, drinking coronas. it's all there.
on the corner of western and 55th street today, a tall white cop was talking to a young black woman. he had shades on, and he was leaning with one arm straightened on the wall - like if he was at a bar chatting her up. the girl, maybe around 16 or 17, wore gray shorts with flowers on them. she had her hands behind her back, as she stared up listening to the cop.
i smiled when i saw a 30 year old black guy walking down the street with his 2 year old son. he placed his hand on top of his son's small round head, guiding him away from walking into a wall or something. his kid had a big protruding belly under a white tank-top, and his face was chubby and brown.
More Thing That I Like:
finishing work for the day
quiet car rides home - coming from a party or something
ice in my drink
that big stretch when you wake up
when traffic lights stay green even though i'm far away
when a song i like comes on the radio
putting on clean clothes
going to the movies by myself
...just thought of more
ranchera music - music of the rancho
absurd movies - zoolander, dodgeball, anchorman come to mind
eating fruit - especially if it's already sliced-up
being somewhere early - although i rarely am
getting up before sunrise
putting clean sheets on my bed
the chilly freeze of ocean wind - last time i said cool wind, which i felt didn't exactly fit
riding on a skateboard
thinking you'll see someone you don't want to see somewhere, and never seeing them
living through a fear and feeling okay
That's all i can come up with for now. there should be more. i'll come up with even more later.
july 31, 2013 - a list of things
god, it's 2 in the morning and i have to wake up at 6.
um, i don't know what to talk about tonight.
I think i'll make a list of things that i like.
Things That I Like:
clever humor
good books
being alone when it's dark and raining
talking to people every once in a while
cold weather in a warm coat
passing a test at school
warms beds and cold nights
driving alone
being praised
scratching a really good itch on the bottom of your foot
when there's no traffic at night
hugs every once in a while
drinking a lot of water
being stronger than i was a year and a half ago
cats and dogs
calmness
feeling sad and crying during a good movie - catharsis, i guess
sitting quietly outside
the cool wind of the ocean
beach volleyball
having read the textbook before coming to class/
ALSO, having done my homework before coming to class
when people like having me around
waking up with dry mouth and taking a long drink of water
feeling confident in my favorite hoodie
staying in clean hotel rooms
air conditioning
having money in the bank
fantasizing about a successful future
playing dungeons and dragons
playing frisbee
being alone without risk of other people around
re-reading a book and understanding it better
when i parallel park perfectly - i'm pretty good at parallel parking, actually
taking naps - sometimes
seeing live plays
That's all i'll list for now. i'll add more stuff tomorrow, maybe.
um, i don't know what to talk about tonight.
I think i'll make a list of things that i like.
Things That I Like:
clever humor
good books
being alone when it's dark and raining
talking to people every once in a while
cold weather in a warm coat
passing a test at school
warms beds and cold nights
driving alone
being praised
scratching a really good itch on the bottom of your foot
when there's no traffic at night
hugs every once in a while
drinking a lot of water
being stronger than i was a year and a half ago
cats and dogs
calmness
feeling sad and crying during a good movie - catharsis, i guess
sitting quietly outside
the cool wind of the ocean
beach volleyball
having read the textbook before coming to class/
ALSO, having done my homework before coming to class
when people like having me around
waking up with dry mouth and taking a long drink of water
feeling confident in my favorite hoodie
staying in clean hotel rooms
air conditioning
having money in the bank
fantasizing about a successful future
playing dungeons and dragons
playing frisbee
being alone without risk of other people around
re-reading a book and understanding it better
when i parallel park perfectly - i'm pretty good at parallel parking, actually
taking naps - sometimes
seeing live plays
That's all i'll list for now. i'll add more stuff tomorrow, maybe.
Monday, July 29, 2013
a lot to talk about. really? yeah, it's unusual.
I wrote these ideas in my backyard while working out.
Creeping on instagram. i didn't have anything better to do today, so I decided to see some of my friends photos on instagram. i don't have instagram, but it's easy to see public profiles. is that creepy? i don't know how to judge anymore. whatever, I don't care. anyway, i was moving from profile to profile, and i came across one profile which i looked at for a while. it was a guy i knew back in high school, who is currently in Boston or somewhere for what i assume is graduate school. and looking at that just made me feel like shit.
Don't like the term creepy. people overuse it. if i were called creepy, it would hurt a lot. i don't even know what the boundaries of creepy are. it seems dismissive though. like, if you're creepy, you're also these other things in a list of 'Bad Things For A Human Being To Be.'
Hard to like myself when I haven't accomplished much. Don't have a career, a girlfriend, or a college degree. I barely have friends. Back to the instgram thing. I felt like shit because I saw these pictures of this guy who is doing something great with his life, and i'm just here wasting my time. I haven't accomplished anything, and it makes me feel regret and sadness. It's hard to like yourself when you don't feel like you've done anything with your life.
Comparing yourself to other people is bad. My dad was talking about this two weeks ago. He grew up on a ranch in mexico until 14 or 15, then he traveled to the united states. in his mind, he doesn't judge people based on their social standings. if, for example, someone is a doctor and has lots of money, my dad will look at this person the same as if they were a barber or something. he says that he determines what kind of person they are based on their integrity, their kindness, their blah, blah, stuff like that. You know, stuff we think makes a person good. that's how i want to see people. you'll never be happy if you compare yourself to other people.
Old asian man driving a coffee. that's self-explanatory. no it's not. okay, all it is is this incident last week, I think, when I was sitting in McDonald's somewhere in Los Angeles looking out the window. I see this old asian man backing out of a parking spot. he's old, so he's backing out realllly slowly, like err -stop - err-err - stop. Stop. STOP! err-err. Like that. what the old guy doesn't notice as he's backing out is that he left his cup of coffee on the roof of his car. i'm like, uh, will he notice? will he notice? will he. . .ah, he's not gonna notice. i jump out of my seat and run outside. imagine some mexican guy, patchy facial hair, dirty clothes, crazy look in his eye, leap out of McDonald's and run straight at you as you're sitting in your car. i'm pretty sure i terrified him when i reached his window. i kept pointing above the car, and because he had the windows rolled up, i couldn't shout at him, "YOU GOT COFFEE ON TOP OF YOUR CAR, OLD MAN!!!" he panicked, and started looking behind his car, interpreting my wild hand motions as, "Oh my God, you're about to hit someone - Look ouuuuuuuuuuuuuut - " so i just grabbed the coffee from the top of his car and held it out for him to see. he went, ohh, now i understand, and when he rolled down his window he said, "ah, thank you, thank you." i couldn't help it: i gave him the biggest, most genuine smile i could give; i felt sorry for the guy because i knew something like that could happen - and does happen - to me all the time. i just smiled big and gladly at him and said, "no problem," and walked back inside.
Sadness leaks out of me. still, it's hard to like myself when i haven't accomplished anything.
Imagine winning lottery. Invite my friends with message: "It'd mean a lot to me." If they show, give them $20,000. oh yeah, this is some daydream i was thinking about today. i imagined winning like a 260 million dollar lottery, and let's say, after taxes, i'd have 114 million dollars left. that's still a lot of money. so i though, well, if i did have 114 million dollars, i'd probably give some to my friends. one of my friends needs like 10, 000 for a paramedic class, so i thought that would be nice to give him money. but then i thought, well, i heard that when people find out you've won the lottery, all the want is to be pals with you so you'd give them money. i thought i'd find a way around this. and by the way, if i ever did win the lottery, i'd keep it a secret my entire life. maybe i'd tell my parents. maybe. anyway, back to the way around moochers. what i'd do is wait for a special occasion, say my birthday or something, and a month before, send out invites to people. I'd say something like, "Hey, guys. I'm having a birthday party next month on the 17 [not actually my birth date] at around 8 pm. I'd really appreciate it if you'd come; it would mean a real lot to me. If possible, I'd appreciate it if you got the day off work to come." it would go like that. then, when the day came, i'd wait about an hour after the party starts, then i'd say, "everyone, i'd like to thank you for coming. it means a lot to me. and because it means a lot, i have something special to announce." I would lie, most definitely. "You see, recently i've received an inheritance from a wealthy relative of quite a bit of money. not millions of dollars exactly, but enough for me to live off of for a few years very comfortably. so, in the spirit of giving, i though i'd share some of this good fortune with you - or, rather, to give some to you." and then i'd take out these backpacks from somewhere, and give one to each person. inside would be $20,000 in cash. I was also thinking something like a money belt, but i guess it doesn't matter. everyone would be in disbelief. "What?" "What's going on?" "Are you really giving us this money?" "You're joking, right? This is a joke. It's gotta be a joke." "Dude, I can't accept all this money." Etc, etc. Then I'd say, "Guys, this is my gift to you. However, it does come with the condition that you never expect to receive any more money from me ever again. Not even presents. This is all that I'll ever give any of you." I'd have some lawyers draft some contract that state the money is a gift and will never have to be repaid. the contracts would also have something in there about how i'm not responsible for any loses incurred by the receiving of the money, nor are they ever entitled to any more money. stuff like that, so that in the future, if i'm like ever invited to one of their weddings, they won't expect a new house as a wedding gift or something. They'd be all like, "Yeah! Woo" "Thanks, man!" "Dude, I can't believe it!" and i'd say, "Don't mention it. now, let's party!" and we'd all get drunk in my backyard, and i might even get a blowjob from a girl.
of course, i'd give some money to my parents. i still wouldn't tell them i won the lottery though.
Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve to be sad or miserable. I say to myself, Some people have real problems to be sad about. I'm sad because my laziness, social anxiety, and lack of motivation have resulted in a lame life. What a cry baby I am.
I like to be alone, but I need contact with people from time to time. i realize that my contact with other people is limited. and that's because i limited it myself. one of the main sources of contact with other people is here.
Driving to Colton to see meteors. And a girl. not exactly. okay, tell me if this is creepy (i don't like that word.) i think back in my second year of college, so like 3 years ago. to condense a very meticulous story short, some girl i liked in middle school, who was a year younger than me, and I had encountered each other one day at my house, because my sister was friends with her, and we spent some time together - with my sister and another one of her friends, too. well, it turned out that i still liked her. i find out that she's moving away from the city i live in, to another city called Colton about a lot of miles away - it's right next to Riverside, which is quite a bit of a drive. ( i still find it funny that you know about Riverside, because it's not a very hip, trendy city. anyway - ) so i'm like, "Dammit, how can i talk to this girl more face-to-face if she lives an hour away. i don't even know if she likes me back. Dang, what am i going to do?" Well, it turns out i'm going to do nothing. not entirely true, actually. she did give me a phone number when she left that day when i met her again. however, it turned out to be like her cousin's phone number or something, and when i texted it, i never got a reply. okay, that may be creepy, but that's not what i was referring to in the beginning of the story. i don't remember when this happened, you can look it up if you want, but around this time when i fell for this middle school crush again there was going to be a meteor shower for a few days. it was probably a month or two after she moved cities, to colton, so she was still alive in my mind, and i still had hopes that we'd end up liking each other somehow. seriously, it never occurs to me how it would happen; only that, by some miraculous coincidence, we'd end up in a relationship. i think it was the last night of the meteor showers, and i really wanted to see them. unfortunately, i live in a light polluted area, and the only way to actually see the sky would be to drive a number of miles away from the city lights into the canyons and/or mountains - which, on the night of the last meteor show, didn't seem worth the effort to me. so instead, i hung out with my friends. i forget what we do, but it's around 10:30 or 11 o'clock at night when I decide to go home. i'm on my way home, still thinking about this girl, when i decide that i want doughnuts. i go by myself to this doughnut place and get a couple - just, you know, to tide me over before i go to sleep. as i'm back inside my car, staring down these empty city streets because it's like a Wednesday at 11 o'clock at night, i start to feel lonely, and i get this restless feeling inside me. i'd just started driving for a year, i hadn't really taken my car any where far - only around my house and around town a bit - and i felt like exploring just a bit. i decide to do this on my way home. when i'm literally a block away from my house, i decide to keep going and make a turn onto a main street. for some reason, maybe it's because i don't know the area and i want to explore it, or because - secretly, deep down in my mind - i know it's the direction she's in, but i start to drive east. the night is warm, there's no moon and it's black outside. i have my windows down with my favorite cassette in the tape deck. (no, this isn't 1989; my car is old and doesn't have a CD player). i'm rocking, I'm jamming at the top of my lungs. i'm heading in a new direction i've never been before. the wide streets are completely empty of cars, but they're lit up just like it's only for me. the main street i'm on passes through numerous cities. at some point it's name changes, then changes again. soon that street ends, and i start to drive onto smaller, less well lit streets. i see the time on my dashboard and it begins to get later and later. soon an hour passes and i'm still driving east - taking whatever road i can find as long as i head east. i take surface streets, and quiet residential streets, and shitty pot hole streets that pass by abandoned-looking railroad crossing. I even take a dirt road once or twice, and pretty soon the street lights are gone and the only way to see is by headlight. it never occurred to me to ask myself, "Where the hell are you going?" never occurred to me to say, "okay, this is far enough. let's go home; it's already midnight and you're tired." I kept driving, always on surface streets and never entering the freeways. a weird thought began to form in my head: "this is where she lives; i'm getting closer to where she lives." i didn't know where she lives, because we hadn't spoke since that day, but just getting closer to her city was a comfort for me. And at the same time, it wasn't as if I was doing this all for her. in reality, she was a strict after thought after I had finally found myself in the city of Redlands - pretty much where city meets desert.
(i also remember driving through the University of California, Riverside for some reason - i think because i was recently rejected from there, and it was a sort of romantic midnight meeting of sorts - a soft, nostalgic goodbye, even though i'd never been there before. Totally didn't know where i was going, passed through like three little streets, about fifteen speed bumps, and some people coming out of a building looked at me funny as i drove by. not exactly a memorable, romantic experience.)
in redlands, i remember turning into this community of houses near the mountains. i remember driving around in loops and coming back down to a deserted street with houses on one side and an empty field on the other. i remember the rows of street lamps glowing yellow as i listened to my favorite cassette flip sides for the twentieth time in the past hour and a half. i remember thinking, "What the hell am I doing out here all by myself, man? I don't know where I am. What should I do now?" as was driving, i saw a sign on the road near the mountains: city of BIG BEAR - (some number) MILES. I though, shit, am i close to big bear? from the little i knew of it, i knew it was a resort city in the high mountains, and that it snowed there. and i also knew that if i got caught in a snowstorm up there, i'd probably die. but then this final idea occurred to me, which intrigued me so much that i couldn't resist doing it. "big bear is in the mountains," i thought. "there's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, the final day i think, and i think if i drive far enough into the mountains, i'd be able to see more than 20 stars in the sky at once." so i started to drive to Big Bear on the 330 - entirely unplanned, not even knowing which roads to take but rather following dark signs only illuminated by my dim headlights. in my ignorance, i was thinking, "Am i gonna need snow tires or something? should i have brought chains in case it snows?" I drive about five to ten miles into the dark mountains north of Colton and Redlands. the air is starting to chill a little bit. i've turned my music down, and now i'm listening with my head out the window to the immense emptiness of a mountain road at night. all of a sudden i'm hearing nature: not just crickets, but strange bird sounds, and wet river sounds, and weird screeching cicada sounds, and a thousand other sounds at once which i've never heard in my entire life, and which suddenly take up the whole space of the trees and cliffs on the sides of the road. i'm deep in the mountains now, really far away from the cities, and i'm getting pretty scared i might fall off the edge of the road and die. and then in the solid chilly darkness, i look up to see any meteors or stars, and for the first time ever in my life, i see the sky. i see millions of stars glowing brightly in the dark at once. i see milky ways, and venus' and mars'. i see colors which don't exist here on earth. i see shapes and patterns in the stars' alignments. i see everything which i'd never seen at home. then i see something streak across the sky. then immediately another. then another. and another. and the meteors i see are not only streaks of white light; they're purple and green and orange too. and i'm like, "Wow, why didn't anyone tell me this? I never knew meteor's could be differently colors. I never realized there were so many stars in the sky. it's all so much." i've stopped thinking about big bear, i've stopped thinking about Riverside or Redlands, i've stopped thinking about Colton and a girl who is probably asleep in her house dreaming of some other boy that's not me. all i'm thinking is: I have to stop and enjoy this sight right now. so i pull over to some dirt embankment on the side of the road, i get out of my car, in the pitch black, don't even have a flashlight with me. i try sitting on the hood of my car, but the engine is still hot and the heat burns my butt and back through my t-shirt and jeans. so instead, i think, i get on the trunk and back windshield of my car, and stare up at the meteors falling. alone in the complete darkness, with a jungle full of sounds coming from the mountain around me, i feel a bit afraid and vulnerable. but soon watching the meteors shooting across the stars and falling to the horizon calms me down, and i grab the uneaten doughnut i still have in my car, and sit in wonder. strangely enough, and this is totally true, a truck full of dudes - like college frat boys, I remember them being - pulls up to the same dirt embankment i'm on, after i'm there about ten minutes, and they shut off their truck and lay out sleeping bags and fold-out camping chairs, and just sit and watch the meteor shower too, with me being about 100 feet away from them by myself in the dark. and, for some reason, we just sit there and watch it together - 100 feet apart - and don't say a single word to each other. and it's lovely. after about an hour, an hour and a half, the frat boys leave. forty-five minutes later, i start to head back home, too. it's about 3 in the morning, and i'm all wondered out - i want to get home to bed. after a bit of searching, i find the right freeway, and from there it's a half hour eventless drive back home. and i didn't think about that girl again that night, or about what could have been. i thought about the great time i had had up in the mountains on the way to Big Bear with a bunch of college dudes i didn't know. that's what i thought about as i feel asleep that night.
i've don't think i've told anyone that story before.
I feel like I've been cold lately.
I don't even know what creepy is. I have my own set of social standards that may or may not overlap with "normal" society.
Creeping on instagram. i didn't have anything better to do today, so I decided to see some of my friends photos on instagram. i don't have instagram, but it's easy to see public profiles. is that creepy? i don't know how to judge anymore. whatever, I don't care. anyway, i was moving from profile to profile, and i came across one profile which i looked at for a while. it was a guy i knew back in high school, who is currently in Boston or somewhere for what i assume is graduate school. and looking at that just made me feel like shit.
Don't like the term creepy. people overuse it. if i were called creepy, it would hurt a lot. i don't even know what the boundaries of creepy are. it seems dismissive though. like, if you're creepy, you're also these other things in a list of 'Bad Things For A Human Being To Be.'
Hard to like myself when I haven't accomplished much. Don't have a career, a girlfriend, or a college degree. I barely have friends. Back to the instgram thing. I felt like shit because I saw these pictures of this guy who is doing something great with his life, and i'm just here wasting my time. I haven't accomplished anything, and it makes me feel regret and sadness. It's hard to like yourself when you don't feel like you've done anything with your life.
Comparing yourself to other people is bad. My dad was talking about this two weeks ago. He grew up on a ranch in mexico until 14 or 15, then he traveled to the united states. in his mind, he doesn't judge people based on their social standings. if, for example, someone is a doctor and has lots of money, my dad will look at this person the same as if they were a barber or something. he says that he determines what kind of person they are based on their integrity, their kindness, their blah, blah, stuff like that. You know, stuff we think makes a person good. that's how i want to see people. you'll never be happy if you compare yourself to other people.
Old asian man driving a coffee. that's self-explanatory. no it's not. okay, all it is is this incident last week, I think, when I was sitting in McDonald's somewhere in Los Angeles looking out the window. I see this old asian man backing out of a parking spot. he's old, so he's backing out realllly slowly, like err -stop - err-err - stop. Stop. STOP! err-err. Like that. what the old guy doesn't notice as he's backing out is that he left his cup of coffee on the roof of his car. i'm like, uh, will he notice? will he notice? will he. . .ah, he's not gonna notice. i jump out of my seat and run outside. imagine some mexican guy, patchy facial hair, dirty clothes, crazy look in his eye, leap out of McDonald's and run straight at you as you're sitting in your car. i'm pretty sure i terrified him when i reached his window. i kept pointing above the car, and because he had the windows rolled up, i couldn't shout at him, "YOU GOT COFFEE ON TOP OF YOUR CAR, OLD MAN!!!" he panicked, and started looking behind his car, interpreting my wild hand motions as, "Oh my God, you're about to hit someone - Look ouuuuuuuuuuuuuut - " so i just grabbed the coffee from the top of his car and held it out for him to see. he went, ohh, now i understand, and when he rolled down his window he said, "ah, thank you, thank you." i couldn't help it: i gave him the biggest, most genuine smile i could give; i felt sorry for the guy because i knew something like that could happen - and does happen - to me all the time. i just smiled big and gladly at him and said, "no problem," and walked back inside.
Sadness leaks out of me. still, it's hard to like myself when i haven't accomplished anything.
Imagine winning lottery. Invite my friends with message: "It'd mean a lot to me." If they show, give them $20,000. oh yeah, this is some daydream i was thinking about today. i imagined winning like a 260 million dollar lottery, and let's say, after taxes, i'd have 114 million dollars left. that's still a lot of money. so i though, well, if i did have 114 million dollars, i'd probably give some to my friends. one of my friends needs like 10, 000 for a paramedic class, so i thought that would be nice to give him money. but then i thought, well, i heard that when people find out you've won the lottery, all the want is to be pals with you so you'd give them money. i thought i'd find a way around this. and by the way, if i ever did win the lottery, i'd keep it a secret my entire life. maybe i'd tell my parents. maybe. anyway, back to the way around moochers. what i'd do is wait for a special occasion, say my birthday or something, and a month before, send out invites to people. I'd say something like, "Hey, guys. I'm having a birthday party next month on the 17 [not actually my birth date] at around 8 pm. I'd really appreciate it if you'd come; it would mean a real lot to me. If possible, I'd appreciate it if you got the day off work to come." it would go like that. then, when the day came, i'd wait about an hour after the party starts, then i'd say, "everyone, i'd like to thank you for coming. it means a lot to me. and because it means a lot, i have something special to announce." I would lie, most definitely. "You see, recently i've received an inheritance from a wealthy relative of quite a bit of money. not millions of dollars exactly, but enough for me to live off of for a few years very comfortably. so, in the spirit of giving, i though i'd share some of this good fortune with you - or, rather, to give some to you." and then i'd take out these backpacks from somewhere, and give one to each person. inside would be $20,000 in cash. I was also thinking something like a money belt, but i guess it doesn't matter. everyone would be in disbelief. "What?" "What's going on?" "Are you really giving us this money?" "You're joking, right? This is a joke. It's gotta be a joke." "Dude, I can't accept all this money." Etc, etc. Then I'd say, "Guys, this is my gift to you. However, it does come with the condition that you never expect to receive any more money from me ever again. Not even presents. This is all that I'll ever give any of you." I'd have some lawyers draft some contract that state the money is a gift and will never have to be repaid. the contracts would also have something in there about how i'm not responsible for any loses incurred by the receiving of the money, nor are they ever entitled to any more money. stuff like that, so that in the future, if i'm like ever invited to one of their weddings, they won't expect a new house as a wedding gift or something. They'd be all like, "Yeah! Woo" "Thanks, man!" "Dude, I can't believe it!" and i'd say, "Don't mention it. now, let's party!" and we'd all get drunk in my backyard, and i might even get a blowjob from a girl.
of course, i'd give some money to my parents. i still wouldn't tell them i won the lottery though.
Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve to be sad or miserable. I say to myself, Some people have real problems to be sad about. I'm sad because my laziness, social anxiety, and lack of motivation have resulted in a lame life. What a cry baby I am.
I like to be alone, but I need contact with people from time to time. i realize that my contact with other people is limited. and that's because i limited it myself. one of the main sources of contact with other people is here.
Driving to Colton to see meteors. And a girl. not exactly. okay, tell me if this is creepy (i don't like that word.) i think back in my second year of college, so like 3 years ago. to condense a very meticulous story short, some girl i liked in middle school, who was a year younger than me, and I had encountered each other one day at my house, because my sister was friends with her, and we spent some time together - with my sister and another one of her friends, too. well, it turned out that i still liked her. i find out that she's moving away from the city i live in, to another city called Colton about a lot of miles away - it's right next to Riverside, which is quite a bit of a drive. ( i still find it funny that you know about Riverside, because it's not a very hip, trendy city. anyway - ) so i'm like, "Dammit, how can i talk to this girl more face-to-face if she lives an hour away. i don't even know if she likes me back. Dang, what am i going to do?" Well, it turns out i'm going to do nothing. not entirely true, actually. she did give me a phone number when she left that day when i met her again. however, it turned out to be like her cousin's phone number or something, and when i texted it, i never got a reply. okay, that may be creepy, but that's not what i was referring to in the beginning of the story. i don't remember when this happened, you can look it up if you want, but around this time when i fell for this middle school crush again there was going to be a meteor shower for a few days. it was probably a month or two after she moved cities, to colton, so she was still alive in my mind, and i still had hopes that we'd end up liking each other somehow. seriously, it never occurs to me how it would happen; only that, by some miraculous coincidence, we'd end up in a relationship. i think it was the last night of the meteor showers, and i really wanted to see them. unfortunately, i live in a light polluted area, and the only way to actually see the sky would be to drive a number of miles away from the city lights into the canyons and/or mountains - which, on the night of the last meteor show, didn't seem worth the effort to me. so instead, i hung out with my friends. i forget what we do, but it's around 10:30 or 11 o'clock at night when I decide to go home. i'm on my way home, still thinking about this girl, when i decide that i want doughnuts. i go by myself to this doughnut place and get a couple - just, you know, to tide me over before i go to sleep. as i'm back inside my car, staring down these empty city streets because it's like a Wednesday at 11 o'clock at night, i start to feel lonely, and i get this restless feeling inside me. i'd just started driving for a year, i hadn't really taken my car any where far - only around my house and around town a bit - and i felt like exploring just a bit. i decide to do this on my way home. when i'm literally a block away from my house, i decide to keep going and make a turn onto a main street. for some reason, maybe it's because i don't know the area and i want to explore it, or because - secretly, deep down in my mind - i know it's the direction she's in, but i start to drive east. the night is warm, there's no moon and it's black outside. i have my windows down with my favorite cassette in the tape deck. (no, this isn't 1989; my car is old and doesn't have a CD player). i'm rocking, I'm jamming at the top of my lungs. i'm heading in a new direction i've never been before. the wide streets are completely empty of cars, but they're lit up just like it's only for me. the main street i'm on passes through numerous cities. at some point it's name changes, then changes again. soon that street ends, and i start to drive onto smaller, less well lit streets. i see the time on my dashboard and it begins to get later and later. soon an hour passes and i'm still driving east - taking whatever road i can find as long as i head east. i take surface streets, and quiet residential streets, and shitty pot hole streets that pass by abandoned-looking railroad crossing. I even take a dirt road once or twice, and pretty soon the street lights are gone and the only way to see is by headlight. it never occurred to me to ask myself, "Where the hell are you going?" never occurred to me to say, "okay, this is far enough. let's go home; it's already midnight and you're tired." I kept driving, always on surface streets and never entering the freeways. a weird thought began to form in my head: "this is where she lives; i'm getting closer to where she lives." i didn't know where she lives, because we hadn't spoke since that day, but just getting closer to her city was a comfort for me. And at the same time, it wasn't as if I was doing this all for her. in reality, she was a strict after thought after I had finally found myself in the city of Redlands - pretty much where city meets desert.
(i also remember driving through the University of California, Riverside for some reason - i think because i was recently rejected from there, and it was a sort of romantic midnight meeting of sorts - a soft, nostalgic goodbye, even though i'd never been there before. Totally didn't know where i was going, passed through like three little streets, about fifteen speed bumps, and some people coming out of a building looked at me funny as i drove by. not exactly a memorable, romantic experience.)
in redlands, i remember turning into this community of houses near the mountains. i remember driving around in loops and coming back down to a deserted street with houses on one side and an empty field on the other. i remember the rows of street lamps glowing yellow as i listened to my favorite cassette flip sides for the twentieth time in the past hour and a half. i remember thinking, "What the hell am I doing out here all by myself, man? I don't know where I am. What should I do now?" as was driving, i saw a sign on the road near the mountains: city of BIG BEAR - (some number) MILES. I though, shit, am i close to big bear? from the little i knew of it, i knew it was a resort city in the high mountains, and that it snowed there. and i also knew that if i got caught in a snowstorm up there, i'd probably die. but then this final idea occurred to me, which intrigued me so much that i couldn't resist doing it. "big bear is in the mountains," i thought. "there's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, the final day i think, and i think if i drive far enough into the mountains, i'd be able to see more than 20 stars in the sky at once." so i started to drive to Big Bear on the 330 - entirely unplanned, not even knowing which roads to take but rather following dark signs only illuminated by my dim headlights. in my ignorance, i was thinking, "Am i gonna need snow tires or something? should i have brought chains in case it snows?" I drive about five to ten miles into the dark mountains north of Colton and Redlands. the air is starting to chill a little bit. i've turned my music down, and now i'm listening with my head out the window to the immense emptiness of a mountain road at night. all of a sudden i'm hearing nature: not just crickets, but strange bird sounds, and wet river sounds, and weird screeching cicada sounds, and a thousand other sounds at once which i've never heard in my entire life, and which suddenly take up the whole space of the trees and cliffs on the sides of the road. i'm deep in the mountains now, really far away from the cities, and i'm getting pretty scared i might fall off the edge of the road and die. and then in the solid chilly darkness, i look up to see any meteors or stars, and for the first time ever in my life, i see the sky. i see millions of stars glowing brightly in the dark at once. i see milky ways, and venus' and mars'. i see colors which don't exist here on earth. i see shapes and patterns in the stars' alignments. i see everything which i'd never seen at home. then i see something streak across the sky. then immediately another. then another. and another. and the meteors i see are not only streaks of white light; they're purple and green and orange too. and i'm like, "Wow, why didn't anyone tell me this? I never knew meteor's could be differently colors. I never realized there were so many stars in the sky. it's all so much." i've stopped thinking about big bear, i've stopped thinking about Riverside or Redlands, i've stopped thinking about Colton and a girl who is probably asleep in her house dreaming of some other boy that's not me. all i'm thinking is: I have to stop and enjoy this sight right now. so i pull over to some dirt embankment on the side of the road, i get out of my car, in the pitch black, don't even have a flashlight with me. i try sitting on the hood of my car, but the engine is still hot and the heat burns my butt and back through my t-shirt and jeans. so instead, i think, i get on the trunk and back windshield of my car, and stare up at the meteors falling. alone in the complete darkness, with a jungle full of sounds coming from the mountain around me, i feel a bit afraid and vulnerable. but soon watching the meteors shooting across the stars and falling to the horizon calms me down, and i grab the uneaten doughnut i still have in my car, and sit in wonder. strangely enough, and this is totally true, a truck full of dudes - like college frat boys, I remember them being - pulls up to the same dirt embankment i'm on, after i'm there about ten minutes, and they shut off their truck and lay out sleeping bags and fold-out camping chairs, and just sit and watch the meteor shower too, with me being about 100 feet away from them by myself in the dark. and, for some reason, we just sit there and watch it together - 100 feet apart - and don't say a single word to each other. and it's lovely. after about an hour, an hour and a half, the frat boys leave. forty-five minutes later, i start to head back home, too. it's about 3 in the morning, and i'm all wondered out - i want to get home to bed. after a bit of searching, i find the right freeway, and from there it's a half hour eventless drive back home. and i didn't think about that girl again that night, or about what could have been. i thought about the great time i had had up in the mountains on the way to Big Bear with a bunch of college dudes i didn't know. that's what i thought about as i feel asleep that night.
i've don't think i've told anyone that story before.
I feel like I've been cold lately.
I don't even know what creepy is. I have my own set of social standards that may or may not overlap with "normal" society.
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