Twoday at the Fair

I just came back from the fair. I'm in a fatigued/overstimulated/deep-fried brain condition.

My friends and I walked a lot, talked a lot, joked a lot, and sat a bit. We only ate once between the hours of 1 and 11. I had a calzone; everyone else gobbled down ginormous slabs of turkey leg and meat on a stick.

Today I learned that I deeply value dependability. My ride almost stranded me miles away from home. Reliability is important to me, and will continue to stay important in my life until I die. I don't trust people who repeatedly fall behind their words.

Actions do not simply speak louder than words; they shout, jump, scream, leap, hiss, clap, spank; they punch out your cousin; they save your ass from a burning building. Words are thoughts full of hot air.

Another one

I wish there was no doubt. I wish I knew exactly what I loved. I wish I knew lots of authors and read lots of books so that I, too, could throw ambiguous names out in conversation.

I wish I wasn't so bad at meeting new people. I wish I was more charismatic and charming, someone more gregarious and someone people feel comfortable around.

I wish my hair didn't smell right now. I wish I didn't feel sick; I wish I was sick, so at least I know why I feel sick. I wish I would go to bed.

I wish I wasn't so concerned. I wish I was more patient, kind, sensitive to my family, to my friends, to strangers. I wish for greatness, fame, glory, praise, reverence, honor. I wish I could be great for myself, by myself. I wish I could move and touch people. I want to connect. I wish for a great life.

(correction: it doesn't bother me that my hair smells)

My Friends Wedding

Last Saturday my friend got married. My other friends got drunk and I even danced (I don't drink). After I dropped them off at the after-party, I went home. Someone left their cell phone and another person left their glasses in my car. When I searched my trunk for my jacket the next morning I discovered someone had taken it by mistake. Overall, a crazy, strange, surreal night full of drunk, partying, merry people. A nice wedding.

Growing Pains

I guess, as I'm getting older, I'm starting to miss my childhood a little. Just little things, like sitting in my grandma's house eating lunch while watching cartoons or walking to the arcade with my brother. These are things I won't ever do again; they're sweet memories made bitter with growing up. The reason I'm thinking about death--not suicide, but death in general--is that I've had this feeling inside me for a while that's telling me my childhood is over, and it will never return. And that makes me sad.

I told my mom today I felt a little sad thinking about the past, and she told me to look forward to the future. Even she, at 50 plus years old, looks toward the future. If you focus on negative thoughts, she told me, your thoughts will become negative.

Although my childhood memories aren't negative, they're bitter, and they have made me bitter. For now I've decided to follow my mom's advice and focus to the future and prepare myself a little more for my life as an independent adult.

Silly Boy

(Has it already been a month since my last post?)

I feel like crying right now. Why?

I've been feeling suspended lately. My life feels uncoordinated, unorganized, wandering. Is that good or bad? Should I even ask that question? Not everything can be qualified as good or bad; sometimes life just is.

I don't believe in soul mates. That's silly. I believe in people and I believe in disconnectedness and I believe in love. Choosing a spouse or partner or whatever isn't a matter of finding "the one." There is no one who will completely fill that silly void inside all of us. I don't believe there is one person who is perfect for us because, obviously, no one is perfect. Which leads me back to the whole good or bad dilemma. Some people can get along well, and some people cannot. That doesn't mean that anyone's "bad;" it just means that's the way they are. Some things just are.

Why do I feel so vulnerable? That's a great word to describe how I feel: vulnerable.

My life feels messy. Everything is starting to speed up, and it seems like as more time passes the more hectic my life will become until, eventually, I will die. I was thinking about death the other day. What is it like to die? It's startling to think about my own death. I've never given it any realistic thoughts. But it's there, waiting.

I'm still wondering how my life will end up. Do I need to take steadier control of it?

Anyway, that's the final thought of the day.

P.S.
(Welcome home, Miss Anonymously Me)

What I've Been Up To

I'm writing again; I'm reading again. I just finished It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizinni. It's about a fifteen-year-old guy who becomes clinically depressed when he enters a very competitive private high school, so he checks himself into a psychiatric ward for a few days. I'd say I have most of the thoughts he has, only to a lesser degree. He thinks he's worthless because he's not as smart as everyone else in his school; they get perfect grades, and do way more after-school activities like volunteering or sports--the kind of things that look good on an Ivy league application. That's exactly how I feel sometimes. It sucks. But funny enough, he and I reached nearly the same conclusion at the end (I won't tell you--no spoilers from me).

I wrote a love poem today for a girl who doesn't like me. Didn't give it to her, just wrote it.

Finals are this week. I'm screwed.

Real Love (demo) --John Lennon

A dynamic human and fascinating figure.