Extremely Blah

Currently listening to:
Your Ghost
Greg Laswell

Fallen back into the glum mood. It's easier back home, around the family, around friends, smothered under memories. I want to leave home and the mood, but it happens to also be the way I reconnect with who I am - no veneer.

I find it interesting that I stay awake as long as I do when I think so longingly and lovingly about dreams and all they have to offer. An eight hour escape from reality is amazing, especially for free since most other escapes come after a cost. I suppose a natural fear is the duality of dreams and nightmares and how unpredictable and interchangeable they are. Nightmares are escapes as well but I like to pride myself on never having a bad trip. Not all nightmares are bad either, I suppose.
Mainly the fear is of not having a return: of burning out the unconscious and never dreaming again. I'll have to think about that.

Diary of a Solipsist, pt.3

I saw this building, with a sign in front that read "God is still speaking." Of course I know this is one of those human churches - a sanctuary to some invisible metaphor - but I can't help but think to myself, 'I'm not talking to any of them.' If I'm not talking, then who is? It's a funny thought but I do wonder at times if I'm not alone; if one of my fellows is "of the same stuff," so to speak.
Of course, we may all be gods - not of this world, I mean, but of other worlds. Stars and worlds and systems come into and leave existence constantly, just as humans do. One could infer that these births and deaths correspond to the cosmic ones. This is a lower level thought. Taking it up a notch, there must be a god of the universe, since it remains despite the birth and death of things within it. I don't think any human is the god of entirety, though; they aren't exceptional enough. In fact, I may not be exceptional enough to be god of the planet holding humanity, but it won't do any good to consider such a thing.
Until I meet someone that has seen the world as I have, painted its skies, seen the land in all its changes, observed the room; I'm the god as far as I know.

Diary of a Solipsist, pt.2

As I related before, I am twenty-one according to human standards.
People took note of my existence in the human point of 1989 as they have on many other instances. From that point, they took pleasure in following my growth up to another point when many had died of the world's wear and tear, or their age. At this point I take my leave, and those still alive continue on to eventually die, perhaps wondering about me before their end. Afterward, I reappear in the world in some fashion.
I have thus used two interesting words: before and after. There is a "before" and an "after," very rarely a "now." I find it difficult to think about the now without it quickly passing into before; and difficult to notice when an after passes through the now. In any case it's futile for me since there is so much time for me to give attention. If I spent all my time focusing on time, my preoccupation would draw attention and give me away, assuming the focus is so strong I end up motionlessly absorbed in it.
In truth, I don't take human time seriously; because I am in this form, in human company, I fall into the time they create. (Humans are always seeking some order, some way to catalog things neatly, like that.) In fact, I'm unable to keep track of all the time I've experienced. The days flow quickly or slowly, just as much as the seconds of a single day for some people. A year to me is as a day, in memory. After an accumulation of years comparable to the human lifespan - I forget.
I awaken - beginning a new set of years. I believe this is to keep the overwhelming extent of time from flooding my mind: forgetting to keep things simple. Occasionally I wish I could remember all my experiences, or at least find the words put down on page, if any.

Diary of a Solipsist, pt.1

I have decided to take up writing something of my life, as I have done many times before. The writings of the past have been lost, at least I cannot find them; turned yellow then brown as the pages tensed and shattered, words losing track of their rightful place. Those same words wander away in a state of fugue and find themselves living with other beings, or perhaps collected by me to be placed back on the page, to rewrite myself.
My name is Nathaniel, at least that's what humans call me. I find it hard to place much emphasis on the name because of all the variations that come from it: "nicknames." On top of this, humans can share the same name and rely on a "last" name to individualize themselves. However, like first names, last names can be shared by multiple humans. The importance placed on names may stem from the idea that qualities constitute something. Cups aren't cups, they are a material in a certain form- they are shiny, sleek, dull, heat-resistant, chipped, and so on. Similarly, attached to names are honor, trust, and other aspects of the person; a while ago people would fight to regain the honor of their or their family's name. Yet how can importance be placed on names when said names are given seemingly at random. Probability determines not just how many people will share first names and last names, but how many will share the exact same name. In such cases, more than a name is needed to tell people apart; other characteristics such as age are used.
According to human time, I am currently twenty-one years old. Of course, I'm much older than this, just as some people are referred to as "old soul" and whose eyes are engraved with many rings from a young age. But I will leave off for now and pick up with the strangeness of human time.

Being Back

Currently listening to:
Tropicana
Ratatat

This is the first week back after the week-long break. Things seem different now, the other hall has mentioned that our hall no longer prop our doors open, we just leave the latch out to keep the door unlocked. Andrew and I are basically the only ones that still leave the door wide open; our roommates would have it otherwise, they're sort of strange. Also everyone is very reticent about interacting, more mellow. John has it the most, he is not loud anymore and is gone from the hall all the time. It seems like drastic changes have happened in this short week. I have no idea what a month vacation will do, but I can't wait either way. It's only a couple weeks away.

The Thursday before the break I was very sick but still showed up to my policy class and bio lab to take quizzes. I got back my policy quiz and have a C. I'm not heavily surprised since I was not comfortable and barely conscious, but I worry about what this will do to my grade if I don't get an A on the final. I will have to study really hard; I think I'm teetering on an A in the class.
*****
The past week I've been preparing myself for a little thought experiment where I will try to see the world solely through the eyes of god. I will go about my life as if I were god and write blog entries about this solipsistic experience. So this will be the last of my normal blog entries for a while. This should result in some interesting thoughts and writing.

The Sound of the Moon

When I talk to people, they are real. They seem to have lives going on, are three-dimensional beings. When we stop talking, they are still real. But at the same time, they are so many paper dolls scattered on the floor. Doesn't make much sense, does it? A paper doll seen up close is obviously a doll, but from far away they seem like they could be living, breathing. After examining someone they turn to paper dolls somehow. Some are more real, though.

I found a postcard of Dallas, downtown, all aglow. For some reason I couldn't put it back in my drawer. Is this where I belong? Is this my home? It made me reminisce, stirred things up in me. I think I'll take it back to Colorado.

Merle comes in when certain songs are playing on the radio. I think she realizes certain beats make me move a certain way, and pet a certain way. I think she likes it when I pat out beats on her.
*****
Yesterday I was sitting in a tree waiting for Dandelion and this cat came over to me. She laid in my lap and I pet her. Then these bible women came over and I told them what they wanted to hear, and the cat made its way down to them and followed them back to their car. After they drove off, I couldn't see the cat and figured they had taken her away (she had a collar but no tags). So I climbed down for a bit and soon she was following me. We went back in the tree. Dandelion drove up as I was going down to get my camera, and when we came back out, the cat had followed us to my yard. She did a funny run-dance to come back over to us.
She's no Smokey Mountain, more like Hobbes. Dandelion called her Samsonite - what an odd name. So we played around the tree, then the three of us went walking around the alley. Samsonite always lagged a little behind but examined things after we had left. When we were crossing the street to the dandelion field, Samsonite was still in the alley meowing after us. So we went back to her but she sped off last minute, then followed us back to the street.

Tonight Dandelion and I took another go at wine making, this time with Strawberries. At the grocery I brought my change so I could trade all my metal for a few pieces of paper. She pushed all the coins through and I can only imagine how her hands smelled, since I'm sick. I don't like being the friend that's sick, I feel like it dampens the mood having to run for a tissue all the time. So we made the wine in a gallon jug since the Mr. Beer container was taken back by her ex. I hope the yeast is still operable, or enough. I also met her new boyfriend. I don't know.

Oh, Samsonite

Sometimes it's hard to swallow.

Trust

There was some discussion of fellatio today, I guess because it's the thing to do these days. I thought about the topic afterward and confirmed that each time I imagine the act of a blowjob I can't help but acknowledge being at the female's mercy. There is a definite vulnerability in having a part of oneself within one of the more powerful moving parts of the human body. So, on that note, I have come to the conclusion that any time I allow myself to be in that situation, I would have complete trust in my companion; much like a dog allowing someone to nuzzle their head against its neck, or lifting its front legs from behind so that it stands up on two legs.

On a separate note, I had one of those in-between dreams when you're just beginning to fall asleep. Essentially, my roommate and I are in disagreement (much like in reality) and he presents me with two buttons: one, he says, will erase him from existence and the other would bring him back. The logistics are that if he ceases to exist, either his belongings would also vanish and a scenario in which my roommate had never showed up would play out, OR his belongings would remain and a scenario in which another roommate with a similar taste in belongings had always been there.
In any case, I pressed the button, playing along, and he vanished. I figured I'd press the other button, and he came back and went on about how a certain responsibility comes with such a device. Then he picked up the button that returned him and I pressed the other button, erasing his existence and that of the other button. The rest of the dream is a consideration of going through life erasing people that were bad or that were about to cause me harm, perhaps even some I thought were in my way.
The idea of the button is strange. I think the saying goes something like "if I had a button that would remove you from existence, I'd press it" or "be careful what you wish for." It's an interesting concept to think about, the ways it would alter reality and shuffle time (maybe?). Perhaps people are dangerous in mentality than physicality. Naturally, someone stronger or faster poses some danger, but a certain mentality is needed to actually make the person dangerous. I think it's the willingness to press the button. I would venture to guess that someone buff is just as dangerous as a child that speaks of a particular button.

I don't particularly like this school, nor many of the people here. I don't mean I have negative feelings towards them, just that they are the sort I can see myself losing contact with if we're separated. It leaves me sad, almost as much as my inability to find a fitting counterpart here. I guess it's just one of those lonely hollow-feeling days. I can't wait for the long drive home and seeing Dandelion again.

Aspectus Exceptio

Currently listening to:
Ramblin' Woman
Cat Power

In my GIS class we were discussing how maps convey information and that a particular satellite takes pictures at a 30m accuracy, so each pixel is the equivalent of 30 meters squared. To give a map or other image more resolution, the amount of pixels is increased. However, you can't just get these pixels out of the air, you're limited by the amount of pixels a camera, or the human eye, can take in to make an image. Images that take on more pixels do so by splitting each pixel into four of the same color and so on. It's interesting to ponder what we really see and wonder about all we miss out on because of the limitation of our inner (and outer) cameras. It's a lot to ask to see things with greater accuracy in terms of pixels, so I'd like to see things in their true colors as opposed to the ones they reflect.

I think light contributes to and is affected by drugs.
The world is photo realistic.

Room to Myself on a Friday Night

I've started gathering songs for another mix CD. I like to think I'm pretty good at selecting the right songs.
*****
The world in a hallway is pretty flat; focuses become more than 3D. People pop out like figures in a pop-up book. Someone enters one door and goes through the bathroom of the suite and exits the other door. It's obvious what has happened yet it's fresh and novel once more - "of course it ended up that way!"
Mikenzie and her roommate Grace are interesting people, the banter between them is witty and fast. Mikenzie speaks or does something once in a while that sets the atmospheric mood to noir, like being in an old detective movie. It's strange to do nothing and yet so much at the same time.

Holidays

Currently listening to:
La Mer, Jeu de vagues
Claude Debussy

I don't believe I like holidays. They make me feel awkward because I don't like the large crowds that result or the seeing of people I haven't seen in a long time, I don't know what to do around them. Holidays seem to interrupt the daily existence I become used to - as well as the person I became in all that steady time.
However, I do enjoy the idea of Christmas: the family/friend dinner by a fire while the world outside is bare and white and the way smells are so poignant on top of the uniform smell of cold. It's a holiday that shuts you in with tea and a book, if not in the company of another.
Still, I don't know why I feel this way; it only serves to isolate me from the standard college student. I guess I haven't found the people that are more like me; maybe I don't want to deal with people; maybe I just need a break from this college.

EDITX
I'm really not unhappy here. I think I just need a break. As I posted a while ago, it's hard to really feel and be emotionally involved out here. People interpret my mood differently and some even get upset, specifically Robyn. The way they interpret tells me they don't really know me, perhaps my fault, though I'll claim the ignorance of not even knowing myself - especially not since I've come out here.

Overcome With Bouts of Misanthropy

He was often predisposed to feelings of confused discomfort, much like the feeling of being watched when no one is around. That something was wrong, but he didn't know what.
"What's wrong? You always look a little sad, a little angry."

He spoke of nature and how long before the conceptual form of a cylinder mathematicians know and love existed, the trees had been producing such shapes out of necessity; of math which rests on a foundation of concepts which have never been seen in their purest, seeing two birds but never the two itself, for example; of time which twists numbers into something much different, and the girl who believes solely in it, tying dates and times intimately together with the events of the corporeal world.
He retold the story of young Arthur turned to a bird by Merlin to see that his land had no boundary, that property lines were man-made and so existed only within man; he pointed to the concrete below and lines traversed and crossed each other in a giant checkerboard.
He confessed that to preserve something implied the killing of it, a living bear could not be stuffed until it was dead; that the American man was concerned with this preservation over conservation; and he gestured to overweight American Indians in full dress dancing to the drum and chant of Mexican and Hawaiian and Japanese alike, for Native American Month; and he spoke of the South American tribes that remained untouched, "conserved."
He always looked a little sad, a little angry.

If I Were To Go

Currently listening to:
Thrill is gone
B.B.King

Last night I had this weird sort of headache and sore back. It was a sort of pressure in my head that made me lose feeling so that everything was dull. There have been some cases of meningococcal disease on campus, one resulting in death. I thought to myself as I lay in bed, what if I have this meningitis form? and perhaps this was my last night (death supposedly results quickly from it). I've always believed diseases should be kept around for population control, so I knew not to be fearful of any sort of end; I don't want to be contradictory. If this was to be the end, then so be it, my regrets being the writings I didn't finish and the packages I ordered that I wouldn't receive. Fortunately Dandelion's stuff was sent out earlier in the week.
This morning my back was still sore and I now feel slightly chill, probably a minor fever. I think this is just some twenty-four hour deal.

Mountains of Home

This weekend I went camping with Devin, Andrew, and Brandon. I'll have to write about it in another post when I have more time.

Of note, I have developed a sort of twitch with my left eye. I thought it was because I have been tired lately or the weather was being a little wacky, but it usually only happens when people come into my room to talk to me or if I'm walking and I come up to some people I know. Maybe I'm just tired of my environment in this big college. I need fall break and a long drive.

Some Ideas

1. Dual perspective short of a moment between a boy who is most stimulated by tactile interactions and an OCD girl tormented by symmetry of touch.

2. Female perspective of being OCD and pursued by a male. Similar to the above but there is no relationship in this one.

He is tired, laying on the floor next to her, who finished eating a snack. He rests his head on her thigh and she puts up no resistance. She goes so far as to run her fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes. I sit not far away, awkwardly not wanting to remain there but not being able to leave immediately. I don't understand the difference in his touch and mine that brings about the difference in her reaction.

Rainy Day

Who is the child and who is the adult, hm?

Like Most Things In Life

Currently reading:
Tales of a Shaman's Apprentice
Mark Plotkin

It's like cold tea with iced cubes floating at the top.
Close inspection of the golden brown liquid reveals currents in the form of diffusion: wisps falling from the cubes, the water making its way through the thickly sweet surroundings. It's like a sheet of thin plastic folding and expanding in a watery environment. I shake the bottle and many air bubbles cascade and swing around the perimeter of the bottle, toward the lid. When everything settles, all is still and uniform.

I Think I Figured It Out

Currently listening to:
A Cloud to the Back
Sam Prekop

I thought I was feeling overwhelmed but I think I'm actually getting that feeling "pre-break." Around this time, colleges usually have Fall break in the middle of October, but at CSU it happens around Thanksgiving. So I look out the window at the blue sky and see myself as a bird, just escaping. I feel like I need to get out of here, I need Fall break.

I'm Still Alive

Sorry I've been absent from here for a while. I've got four tests coming up tomorrow and Friday plus the Thursday lab. This is the first week I've felt overwhelmed and yet still calm at the same time. I think this conflict of feeling caused me to be more apathetic and distant which some people took to be anger. Maybe I am frustrated, I don't know. Once the weekend is here I hope to be 100% again. This last weekend my roommate was gone and everyone else left for day trips, so I was here alone and I think that allowed me to return to my normal levels of peace, rather than the extremely outgoing person I am when everyone is here. Perhaps, adjusting back to the outgoing self is rough.
Anyway, I finally got the Sam Prekop CD I've been trying to get for so long and Perryl is sending me his corduroy fisherman's cap I love and Rebekah is sending a letter, and other packages I've ordered. I still need to write my sister, family, and Dandelion.
I don't like eating here much anymore. After a meal (especially breakfast) I feel uncomfortable, like a weak stomachache. I can't wait to live off campus and cook for myself.

It's getting cold here.

Ode to a Beard

Babies cry
and mothers sigh
and girls never say nay.

Add Our Feelings Together. Divide By 0. Move On.

I want to take note of a recent high I had. It was probably very good, fresh plant material because it didn't seem like I did any more than I have recently, and yet it was sort of an over-high to the point of feeling sick. However, I didn't get so sick that I threw up, so maybe I'm getting better about that or am finding the amount that's good for me.

Anyway, it started out as the general high where certain dialogues are very funny because they're seen in that new light. In the hall, the feeling mounted and I began to feel the mood within the words people spoke. Of course, words have emotional backings to them, they're all charged that way. But the feelings I could sense seemed much more tangible as if they were coming from the mouths of the speakers. It was almost claustrophobic being surrounded by all those feelings.
So I went in my room and laid down and closed my eyes. Stories started up; this concept is very difficult to explain, especially a day after it happened. Essentially, my mind's eye saw "bubbles" or scenes on a stage which were brief and singular. The content was similar to two pictures combining into one fresh scenario. That's about all I can describe it as since I can't completely remember.
The night was emotional and downing and quiet, so I slept twelve hours. The next day was still dazed and foggy and eating brought back the high for some reason. I don't think anything should have still been in my system, but then I've always been a little odd with drugs of all kinds. I called it a sick day and just mooched around until my night lab.

Camping

Currently listening to:
In the Morning
Norah Jones

"Now the cities we live in could be distant stars
And I search for you in every passing car."
*****
Another late post. It seems in college I won't be able to focus to record daily events as they happen.

Well, Friday I got the scores back for my biology test (95) and calculus test (80). I need to work a bit more on math, I guess. Carly and I had planned a one-on-one camping trip and it actually happened. We left on Saturday after eating and getting some orange juice and soy milk to go. We decorated my car with feathers and a string of pine cones and loaded an old swivel living room chair along with our blankets and such. Kiersten, our RA, caught us before we left and let us borrow her tent.
Then we went to a thrift store called "Thrift Store" to look for one of those aged iconic sweaters with blocky pictographs of trees or houses on it. There was nothing like that, but Carly found an 80s/90s jacket that looks like something my mom would have worn. I bought a "drug rug" which is the closest thing they had to a Mexican poncho. I really want one of those blanket ponchos with the head slit you slip on. And then we left.
We drove around an hour and a half into the mountains, stopping the while to barefoot the Poudre river and collect wood. After looking down a couple dirt roads, we found a nice spot surrounded by trees and with two fire pits: a large one and a small baby one. The tent ended up next to the small one. Farther down the dirt road since of erosion appeared and large roots seemed to have grown along the surface; the road sort of curved and became more vertical as it did so until it evened out at the next camping spots and eventually the main road. Each camp spot had some wood to take from, and I saw many stumps. During the night I actually heard campers pulling in nearby start chopping at trees. There should probably be a law against that.
So we built a fire and drank kava and cooked dinner and opened some alcohol. I turned on the car so we could listen to Regina and Grizzly Bear and Norah Jones. Once it got dark I felt like I was twirling in space because it was too dark to see the ground and the slope caused missteps which sent me facing the other direction. I gathered a bunch of pine cones and tossed them into the fire and they caught fire on the bottom, a little crystal of light on each platform shelf. Tier by tier the flames move upward until the cone is engulfed and burned until there's nothing more to burn, and each shelf retains a bright glow. The whole thing falls with a touch. It was so dark so quickly that we decided to turn in. The fire was smoldering and we used up one gallon of water so we left it, and it was still smoldering by morning.
She's a little snorer;I didn't get a lot of sleep. I had to unroll my sleeping bag later when it became much colder. In the morning we saw a chipmunk scamper near our site. Carly set up her chair in the woods with the framed owl stitched art and thin floor mat, to photograph. I think the ones with her in them are the best, but she liked the idea of the empty chair. Then we loaded up and went to see the spot where I did my vision quest. I think she was impressed with the view. I still have to write up the short story version of it, but I finished the poem. After that, we headed back. That's all I can think of right now.

Where I Live

On days like this I look from my window and see treetops swaying and clouds moving in a perfect blue sky. The position of my room in the building puts my window in a place where the rest of the building isn't visible. I feel like I'm in some large house on a hill, and my window is open, and the trees sway the breeze through to me. A plane moves through the air - a small white speck - and I wonder where they are going and why I'm not going too.

Dandelion Wine

Currently listening to:
Welcome Home, Son
Radical Face

You're still on my mind, every day.

Just a Quick Update

Friday I took a biology and calculus test. I know I aced the bio test, and I know I passed the calc test.

Walking in the courtyard in front of the library, this spiky fruit dropped right in front of me. It was an unripened Ohio buckeye and the squirrel that had dropped it got another and scampered down and away. So I carried the fruit all the way to the dorm and said to Jen, "look what a squirrel threw at me." For some reason this really cracked her up and it has been repeated throughout the weekend.
Also, before the calculus test, I was studying and a squirrel ran up the tree I was under and started eating the maple seeds, dropping crumbs on me all the while. So silly.

That night, I did an alcohol run for three groups of people and between all the money I was given, I ended up with six dollars myself, after giving back change to a couple people. I didn't even have to drive! Really, though, a tip should be given. On the way back, the car lit up and hotboxed back to the dorm. Then Jen appeared because we had a paint date, and Kalyn came in for a while. We discussed things and decided to do the kava which had come to me in the mail. So I made a large smoothie with whole milk, orange-kiwi-strawberry-banana juice, and the root. I had the most with Jen having almost the same amount; Kalyn took the least and couldn't stomach it so she gave half to my roommate. She seemed to regret it a little, because Jen and I were all peaceful and giggly after a while. We sat in the hallway, after painting, and some people joined including my RA and her boyfriend and the RA on the adjacent hall. They knew we were on stuff and were having a good time with it.
That night I had really vivid dreams about the first day of school, but I can't remember what school it was or any details. My body was relaxed and desensitized. My roommate's alarm went off and he turned it off and went back to sleep, and after that I couldn't really get back into the place I was in. I'm over that kid and am ready to live in a single situation next year.

Also, this weekend the floor did a minor craft period and Kiersten, my RA, showed me how to use hemp to make bracelets. So I made two in two different styles, then wove the extra strings together so that they had a rat-tail of sorts. I didn't paint a door-stop, but we all had tea and it was a lovely time.

A Wind Named Amnesia

The wind is quite strange here. One side of the street may be a current of warm dry air that weathers oneself, while the other side may be a draft of cool wet air. It blows almost all the time to some degree. Unrelenting, the wind hits and caresses away my mind, leaving me blank. It's difficult to be emotional here, to be anything but quiet.

A Little Something

Not sure what more to do with this or where it's going. I'll just post what I have.
*****

A horizontal string of light fades in and intensifies. Morning. I open my eyes and the strings become spheres. I know in falling asleep I lay on my side, but somehow I end up on my back by morning. She wakes on her side, facing me. Was she sleeping? Was I really sleeping? I cannot remember; but she looks back at me with eyes shining with morning dew and I'm reassured. Under bed covers her index finger brushes mine and all come together to interlock and embrace. This is one moment of many between closed eyes: a new time arrived at with each blink. The morning goes on like this, under cotton sheets warmed by two.
A horizontal string of light fades in and intensifies. Morning: half an hour later; waking next to her. The sheets jump sharply and sink like a mountain in quicksand, leaving a little hill. The landscape of the bed changes as her arm makes its way toward me under the tight sheets. She arrives, her hand hovering above me. Slowly her fingertips alight on my chest and spread outward as the palm makes its way closer to my hair-laden skin. Warm hand heating my surface which the sheets had chilled. The static her fingers collected on the journey to me raise my hairs and prick my skin until her hand covers my heart.
A horizontal string of light fades in and intensifies. Morning: twenty minutes later. We pass our morning this way, accumulating a little pile of moments, like haikus which paint a bigger picture.

This College

Currently listening to:
Summer Babe
Pavement

Another strange night. Since it was Friday, everyone was trying to find a party. So there was one group I was with doing pre-drinking and they switched rooms and I went to visit other people. When I came back there was another group, all the less partying people of the floor, waiting outside the room for the other group so that they could go to a party with them. John Beasley and his 16 year-old friend Adam came out and scooped me away to the forest to smoke. We talked and smoked and I came to realize that many of the guys here (likely of the same temperament as John and Adam) have sex high up on their list of priorities right now. They spoke of their memories and hopes for a sexual night. Then headlights passed over us and John said "Oh, shit!" and ran. Adam and I got up and ran, too, all three of us going different directions. As I ran, the light passed over me and seemed to come back and focus and grow larger on me. I was running through a dark room, all natural light vanished as I tore through bushes and vines; all I could see was a fence above me with an orange artificial light glowing through the metal bars. I jumped it and was lost, but came to find I was at the front courtyard to my dorm. I walked nonchalantly back to the side door and saw the red and blue police light stopped in the forest. Perhaps it had caught someone? But everyone had gotten away.

I went back to the dorm to find the groups still waiting around. I went in the room and told the tale. The group outside left and we soon followed, but I had to grab a jacket and they left me. After waiting around where they said they were, I found out they had already left for a house party. So I went there and was stopped at the door because I didn't know the house owners. Eventually I got in, and I really wish I hadn't. There were probably a hundred people in the small front of the house and John told me there were two hundred more in the backyard. My friend Maiwand had followed my friends to the party and he was out of place but didn't seem to notice. He's from Afghanistan. He related that he hadn't really had anything to drink and wasn't too into socializing because the people there were only interested in "baggy pants." I talked to a couple people but I just wasn't comfortable, like a plant watered with salt I was suffocating and lost my night high immediately. I left. Maiwand said he wanted to stay longer to watch people.

I always try to follow my heart.
Back at the dorm I visited in Anna's room, then Carly's. Perspective is different in these states and it seems as if people are giving weird looks, but they probably aren't.

I'm glad I started out at a small college like Webster. This sort of large college makes the demographic of party goers seem very large.

Nice Beard

Currently listening to:
Human
The Killers

"Are we human, or are we dancers?"
*****
Today while trying to return a book and getting envelopes and stamps, I ran into "nice beard" guy again. The first time I was waiting in a line and this guy with sunglasses and a long pointy Viking sort of beard walked by wearing these short-shorts with a bubble pattern. He said to me, "nice beard, man." And I said, "you too, man."
So I was walking by him again and I immediately start smiling as we passed. He wore a baby blue set of short-shorts this time. He said, "nice beard, man" without smiling at all. Since he had sunglasses on, I couldn't tell if his eyes were smiling. I said, "you too, man."

Also, in the morning there was a strange guy on a bike who seemed to be singing along with music he was listening to, only it was in an Asian dialect. However, he soon turned his bike around and retraced his path while cursing. Turns out he is white and he was singing in English, but it was all muddled as if he were on something. Then he wanted to lock up his bike, I suppose, and he did this weird bird whistle of sorts like it would reveal to him a good open spot to park. I don't know. There seem to be a lot of weird people, or maybe they aren't weird themselves.

Eatable

Yesterday I ate a pot cookie, only I should have eaten just half of it because I'm skinny and susceptible to pot. So I did that at 1 PM and by 2 I thought I was going to be sick, so I lay down on the floor to nap. I had my legs over each other and it felt like the melded into a fin, like a merhuman. I didn't throw up like last time, though. I don't have much comfortable luck with that drug.
Grabbed a late dinner at 7 where I ran into Maiwand and Jen Ralph and Azra. Suddenly I was in Sam's room with a bunch of girls and I was a little stoned still and Sydney asked if I was high because I was spacey, and I said I didn't think that changed much from day to day, and everyone else agreed. We all drank and then they left to seek parties. This is a big house party sort of school.
I think when there's a meteor shower, I can arrange some people to go back into the mountains to truly see it.

"If someone wants a sheep, then that means that he exists." -Antione de Saint-Exupery

At first when I saw this quote I thought it meant the person that wants the sheep exists. After the cookie hit me I knew that it was the sheep that existed. You can't want something that doesn't exist, or that you don't know!

Visions

Friday evening I headed for Estes State Park for the free camp sites so I could try to do a vision quest. It was a successful first attempt, even though it was only for a day, though not in the way I expected. Vision probably means more like "insight," but if you do it for the usual three days, I guess the term may apply in other ways.

I met a couple nice people there, Beth and Roger and their part blue heeler, who took my name down in case I went missing. After the night, I approached their campsite again and the blue heeler actually came out to greet me. I take that to be a good sign. It's given me lots to think about and I'll probably write a poem and story and paint about the experience.

I got back Saturday morning and the day kind of drifted away from there. Hopefully tomorrow night there will be a hookah outing. It will be my first time.

People

Currently listening to:
91.7 FM
Texas Ind. Radio

People here are kind of strange. The workout movement is at large, I guess because this is a sports school. I never really understood working out to get muscle that isn't needed on a day to day basis. What I mean is that we all have an inherent strength which comes from how we live our lives; having no more strength than is needed. However, most students here seem preoccupied with working out, such that they walk a long distance to the Rec Center.
Then, to support their bodies, they must take in more water and food to re-energize so that they might workout once more. It all seems very inefficient to me, especially since it requires much time out of the schedule.

Furthermore, everyone seems to enjoy competitive sports to some degree. Competitive games. It is difficult to get people for cloud watching or a casual tossing of frisbee. I'm not active enough for most people here; I move much slower, and it feels like that's a barrier. People like enthusiasm here, and exertion. These are not my people and I'm not sure I can find the relationships I have found at other institutions here.

Cloudscapes

This isn't stargazing, but it's about the same thing and I don't want to create a new tag for it. Essentially, the largest part of my day went to cloud gazing. I gathered a bunch of people and we lay in one of the secluded grassy parts of the dorm which was surrounded by the building on three sides, and looked up.
We, basically Robyn and I, saw many odd things in the clouds. They moved pretty quickly, and formed and fell apart. You blink and it's a whole new cloudscape. One cloud I noticed became a crescent moon, and suddenly an eye-hole opened and a nose extended and a mouth opened. So the moon became the man in the moon, and a silly man, too; it stuck its tongue out. However, my roommate made a few discouraging remarks about the activity and the man shriveled up and flattened out.
After a while I started noticing insects, small ones, flying about. This wasn't the strangest thing, because little white dots like sparks were abuzz all about. They were like flying electrons. And hollow worms appeared and seemed to jump up, then slide downward. Also, there were diatom looking discs with holes in the center. One person there said I was seeing floaters in my eye; the worms were little capillaries or something. It's kind of weird that there are all these little sparks moving around in our eyes.
To my recollection, I've never noticed these things while sitting up or not looking at the sky - both seem to be key elements. I thought it was pretty calming and I would like to experiment with it further.

Today I started sketching a canvas for another painting. I may put off the koi pond even more.

College Leaves Little Time For Blogging

It's kind of difficult to explain. I seek that comfortable area of conversation that seems to be limited to face-to-face meetings. I want to recreate that feeling; however, sometimes I come across great resistance. Some sort of barrier is up and must be shattered to reveal the soft soul below. I'm afraid I just don't know how to do it smoothly.
I ask lots of questions. It's how I get the details of people's lives, sure, but it's also a means for keeping a conversation going. I guess I need to buy time until the breaching-point is reached and comfortable conversation ensues. I wish conversations didn't have to become so ragged in order to become like old times, but I guess it's a product of not being able to tell the feelings on the other side of a text, or non-text.
My memory is like mush. I remember lots of details, just not ones that entirely matter. I'm not even sure which details are the ones that do matter. Some people seem to get frustrated at times because of it, though they end up saying it's not a big deal that matters. It matters to me. I think about things to blog or tell people about and can't remember what they are when the time comes.
I don't know. I hope things get better. I know I forgot a lot I wanted to say.

I'm having a hard time getting away from people in order to write, read, and paint. I need to finish some of these ideas before I lose them.

Blog Love

Once in a while I come across a blog in my search for image and writing tidbits. They aren't always on an official blogging site; sometimes they're in image storage sites, or true amateur writing entry sites. Whatever the case may be, I follow the bit to its source and explore.

The popular method for presenting short blog stories seems to be in the first person, capturing a small amount of time, not necessarily with conflict. They are very peculiar in the language they use, often drawing on aspects of nature.

So sometimes I come across a writer who does not know I exist, and I only know them through their writing. They often write of love and distance and introspective things. They are little moments; those precious ones that last an instant, and if someone like me doesn't write them down, they are gone forever. But they touch me and I come to realize that I fall for the writer a little bit. With simple, beautiful stories, I find that I love these writers - and if I were to ever contact them and get to know them, I would probably fall out of love. I guess this is the bond between the reader and writer.
*****
The only odd thing that happened today was finding two yellow jacket (?) nests lying in the grass next to the sidewalk. The smaller one ended up having a couple adults waiting to come out. I heard a papery scratching noise, but didn't think anything of it and went to class. After I got back, I watched it emerge, only it wasn't ready to fly yet. So I put a cup over it and took in into the room across the hall where Andrew opened the window. Then I picked at another cap and saw a leg poke out. The pod looked small but actually went deeper in the nest, so that last one was dumped out too. I wasn't sure what to do about it, so I duct taped the nest to the ceiling of the dorm hall. Nothing else has come out as far as I know.

Later, on the way to dinner, I found a papery nest, only it didn't have comb inside of it. Gillian believed it to be a bird nest, particularly a swallow nest. I think a bird nest is a suitable guess. So, nature collection is going well here. I just need more feathers..

Car Ride (flash fiction)

"I never mentioned this to anyone, but you came up the night he and I fought," She said. "He said he knew that we were still talking. I admitted we were-"
"How could he know?" I interrupted. "He could have been testing you."
"It really doesn't matter," She shot back, "I wouldn't want to lie anyway."
"Right."
A pause.
"So I admitted that we were still talking, but that there was nothing more between us."

I lowered my head at that. She undid us with a sentence; quickly taking the air from me and quieting the foreign pop song in the background. The way She speaks has the impact of effectively silencing opposition, as if Her final words leave no room for other alternatives. I generally accept Her words.

My head lowers because of the past She denies, though for good reason. For my innocence and lack of understanding in the situation. For my selfishness which is a constant obstacle keeping me from truly grasping and helping Her; though I don't even know if She needs or wants my help. She is strong on Her own, or wears the guise well.

I raise my head once more and glance at Her. She hasn't noticed. We move past lightly lit business strips and pitch shadows slide over and hide Her face.

Stirring

I write only because
There is a voice within me
That will not be still.
-Plath (1948)

Things of Adjustment

1. Mountain Time. I have an extra hour, people from Colorado don't. I don't plan on changing my watch or laptop time, this way I will feel like it's later and I will get things done quicker. It feels good always seeing the time and realizing I have more. I'm selfish about it.

2. Dryness. I'm drinking a lot more water in this higher elevation. During breakfast I drank a chai tea, then downed eight ounces of orange water (it doesn't qualify as juice) in one drink. Supposedly, I'll adjust and begin drinking a normal amount, but I see many students carrying water bottles everywhere.

3. Clouds. Speaking of elevation, the clouds are much closer and much more detailed than in Texas. I'm still amazed and point them out and the people around me don't see anything different about them. They are taken for granted.

4. Slang. I'm not used to the hipster slang used by many of the students here. In St. Louis everyone just spoke the generic understandable English. Here, I feel like I have to ask what people are exactly saying. I guess I'm just literal about these things.

5. I think I might apply for the Dining Services Advisory Council so I can influence the direction of the cafeterias.

School Starts Tomorrow

The events this weekend have been interesting. I saw fire breathers/dancers, played laser tag, participated in human fuseball, general floor activities, and other things I can't remember because they went by so fast.

More people I've met: vegan Robyn who is a laid back girl, though not so much a hippie; cynical Dan; Celtic Liah; Jake; Jake from another hall who likes photography; Hannah who wears her heart on her sleeve; quiet Shea; sheltered Adam; bro John; Jayme; stand-offish Andrew; self-conscious Justin.

Justin is the first roommate I think I've been able to deal with. He still has the little quirks that are kind of odd and a little annoying, but I'm dealing with them surprisingly well, as he is with me. Perhaps I'm just thick-skinned to living in the same room with someone now.

School spirit and the anthems. The first day, they packed us in an auditorium decked out in the school colors and band and cheerleaders. And anthems were sung, some of which were essentially repeating "CSU is great" over and over. I understand the obsession with school loyalty about as much as I understand country loyalty. Sure there are distinct aspects which separate one school from another and one country from another, but I've never felt such loyalty as to fight for one particular place or institution over another. It kind of felt like a brainwashing of the freshman minds or a foundation being set up.
*****
Anyway, tonight I watched some friends try to slackline, which is setting a rope between two trees and trying to tightrope walk across it. While they did that, I climbed a couple trees and whistled at people which was a funny joke for a while. I want to climb to the top of one of the trees some free day.

Today was kind of a blah day; I just didn't feel all that into it. I took a tour of the campus and think I'll be able to find my buildings tomorrow. I bought a lab manual. I ate two meals, at odd times. I laid in grass. I texted Dandelion but she was giving me the short responses I should be able to recognize by now. I think she's still in the undulating stage of her life at the moment. She'll probably be there for a while, too, since she's figuring herself out. I believe that's very good; she needs some introspective time. I just hope she likes what she finds in the end.

I'll post pictures of the short hike we did yesterday, on Facebook.

Summer Skin/Arrival

Some more things from the drive, including the last hundred miles into campus on Thursday:

1. Bug death; each time I got gas I cleaned the windshield and right when I started driving again, bugs cast themselves against the glass. I do believe there is a way of flying which spares most of them, but then again, it would be the way the current flows over the car at that time. At the same time, I passed through a butterfly meadow and they smacked left and right, leaving smears of body on the shield. The 18-wheeler in front of me left a road covered in cloudless sulphers (probably) which would flutter their one working wing. I hope they didn't suffer long. That's the first time I've been down a road with so much insect life in it.

2. Then there's the oversize load vehicles carrying huge empty spools, or giant spheres, or vats of pickles or something. They're never very obvious as to what they belong to as a whole. Sometimes I wonder if the government is building something and they increased the proportions so that it wouldn't be obvious as to what it is in part.
*****
I got in and there was heavy traffic because the town is small and the lanes are few. After some hours in line, I swirled around and got a spot in the lot next to my dorm. Moved in with my roommate and his father's help.
The dorm is a single room. We got lucky and ended up next to a janitorial closet, so its just a two person room with its own bathroom. The shower is large. The mirror and sink are directly next to the door when you enter. There is a housekeeping service once a week.

There was some programming and food and a carnival. Basically everyone I met is a freshman, I haven't come across any dorm-living transfers or upper classmen. The group I was hanging out with found out I was 21 (even though I openly mentioned it) and sort of teased me about hanging out with them. So I chill-ly asked why it mattered since I was new. I don't think I'll live in dorms after this year ends.

The days are warm and the nights are very cool and I've seen clouds in such detail I had never seen in Texas. There are very many trees here and one spot called "Sherwood Forest" which contains a specimen of every native tree in Colorado.

The cafeterias are all-you-can-eat madness. Swarms mobbing counters and grabbing seats. It will be interesting to see the dynamic once people get into their school schedules and can't eat as a floor any longer.

I'm still waiting to sign up for my calculus class so I can go buy the material, hopefully before the first day of class. I met a girl named Carly whom I vaguely remembered from the lame meet the hall activity. She seems pretty hippie-ish, but I don't really know her yet. Also, another girl named Shannon keeps popping up. Since it's impossible to find people on facebook without a last name, I'm going to get numbers.

Today I got lost, as I'm sure I will much more often. It was after the major fair where I learned both philosophy and English departments have a lack of clubs to join. Then on the way to the dorm I got lost and found one of the guys from behind the philosophy table who is a grad student who gets free housing and class in exchange for TA duties. So we discussed philosophy and got on the topic of ethnobotanicals and schizophrenics and the such. He has a curly beard.

So, here's some more pictures from the road and my side of the dorm:

Leaving

Currently listening to:
Mrs. Cold
Kings of Convenience

Last night I packed fully. It's strange how easy it is to not pack when you're nervous about leaving.

Then I woke up at 7 AM and loaded the car. I've seen so much in such a short time that I stopped seeing. It will probably be easier to do minor summaries. I phrased everything very well in my head while driving, but now I'm tired so I'll do my best.

Rubber debris blackens the road in front of me so I know a tire burst at some point. The 18-wheeler in front of me edges off the road, one of the front tires missing its rubber, the steel scraping along.

18-wheelers, like giant chess pieces, careen by, swirling the air into a fist which rips past me and sounds like a sword slicing through thick fabric.

A highway was under repair. One of the two lanes was being replaced so both directions of traffic had to take turns on 6.5 miles of one lane. Those not in the front had little idea what they were waiting for.

I pass little towns less and less frequently. Despite it being the middle of the week and in the afternoon, most stores are closed. These far in between towns are the only available refueling points between the large cities. Honestly it felt like they were dying; they shrivel up with the economy and those that can get away go to the concentrated large cities. What this means for people trying to travel in the sparse West, I'm not sure.

The landscape of the high plains of Texas was surprisingly hilly with tree clusters. This turned into flatland which turned into a sort of grassland with plateaus. The scarcity of humanity crept up on my after a time and were it not for my phone, I might have gone crazy. The lack of towns and the vastness of nature greatly unnerved me and at times I thought it would go on forever. Signs were also absent, as if those living out here don't think in terms of miles.

By the end of the day I had driven twelve hours and probably an extra seventy-five miles than planned, looking for a suitable motel. Everyone stopped texting me since I'd pestered them all day. They got me through the day, though - so thanks, guys! The sky at the end of the day was full of cirrus and stratus clouds which looked like innumerable fish skeletons on the horizon.

Tomorrow I move into CSU. Crap.

Short Johns

Today was a sort of "get things for college" day, though I didn't really think I needed anything more than what I brought home from Webster. Mostly we tried to get car stuff and things for transporting bedding easily.

My mom took me to REI for winter wear, as if I need more than the coats and jackets I already have. Maybe I do. I got under gloves which give my hands a double layer. I also got this silk, long-sleeve undershirt deal that's supposed to keep me warm somehow - it's like a piece of paper in thickness.. Also, I got long johns! Talk about strange inventions. It's thin yet it supposed to keep me warm; I don't get it. It's kind of like wearing tights that don't go all the way to the shoes. I asked my mom if I was supposed to look like an elf which them on, but she didn't answer, she just laughed. Strangely enough, they come with a slot in the front for peeing, so I wonder if they make another type specifically for women. If I were a lady I wouldn't want to have to buy long johns with a vent for cold air to enter, if I didn't need said vent!

I really must finish packing. I leave in a little over a day. Crazy. I might get to hang out with dandelion one last time if she's feeling up to it.

Down in Front

Saturday night was a movie: drive-in Indiana Jones and the Lost Ark at Half Price Books. Alberto, Jonathan, Pablo, and Ron came over and we went to centennial to buy lots of girly drinks that would both get us drunk and taste good all the while. Pablo wanted vodka, though. I don't know about Pablo sometimes.

"Once more, Indiana Jones, we come to find that there is nothing you can possess which I cannot take away."

Mid-way through the movie Phillip showed up and dropped off a bottle of wine and ran away, so I had to hide it for the rest of the movie.

Afterward we went to Denny's for the usual meal. Alberto brought one of those alligator toys where you press teeth down one at a time and one tooth will make it bite you. So that was our Monopoly replacement for the night. After that, we retired to my backyard with the cooler and lit the tiki lamps that would light. Jonathan only had one drink and left, he's still a beginner by choice. The rest of us became much unsober and discussed trivial things like relationships and reality. I tried Phillip's $3 orange wine which smelled like an icey pop. Promptly I spit it out and passed it around the circle. Everyone but Jonathan spit it out; I don't think he got a suitable amount in his mouth, or he faked it. I can't tell.

*****
Yesterday, because it's now after midnight, I started going over what I've packed and Perryl came over with some sweet rice. We played Halo 1. Every time friends come over we end up playing the original Halo because it's all I have and it never gets old. It's sort of a tradition now. I should sell all that stuff while it's worth something.. But then all we'd have to play is the alligator game!

When Perryl ran off to get ready to go back to College Station, My parents and I went to eat dinner with Jonathan and his parents at the Meddlesome Moth. It's a weird dive with art and stained glass from the Hard Rock Cafe. Basically it's a place to get beers of all sorts and the food is sort of appetizer in setup. I think the chefs must have been tired because one of our dishes was served twice and we got two rounds of the same desserts, all for free. It's probably good that that happened because the bill came to $180 for six people. I have to say I haven't felt that full in a long time; it's kind of uncomfortable. My mom thought it would be Dutch treat, but then my dad kept denying them splitting the check even though he wanted Dutch as well. I really don't get them some time. My dad can be pretty ridiculous when he isn't allowed to treat people, or maybe it's when they want to treat him. Eh.

Lying

Current mood:
Quiet

Lying is sort of a weird thing. It seems to be an action to me; to lie one must say something which isn't true, and know it isn't true. However, some say that silence can be a lie as well, hiding something. I'm not sure if they mean silence in response to a question, or just not bringing something up. If the latter is the case, I am guilty of lying to most people.

Actually, I don't think silence in regards to things not asked is lying. If it were and people wanted to be honest, everyone would have to speak constantly about every aspect of themselves to make sure all bases are covered. No, this must not be the case.
And I suppose not being specific in answering questions could be considered a half-truth, or maybe a half-lie. I think someone should be studying these aspects of lying rather than the "what does the brain do when someone lies" scientific thing.

For my part, I lie mostly about time, though not with most people. What I like to do is take all the events I do in a day and not mention them, so only I have them in mind. So let's say I clean my room and do several other things after that. The next day is a slow day and I only clean the shower and then read and write the rest of the time. If asked what I did that day, I would take the busy day and spill events over into the slow day. What's the point, you may ask? Well, by divvying up my tasks, I appear to be constantly moderately busy when in fact I'm having productive and unproductive days just like everyone else. I think I just don't want to seem lazy since I'm already spoiled and slow-moving as is.
*****
Writing-wise: I finished the flash fiction titled "Anita" and have a tentative complete copy of "Study of a Being." I want to do some more flash fiction work. I started rewriting the short I started long ago called "Piles," but I really need to continue working on my book. Hopefully I'll have time to write at CSU...
*****
I know I haven't started CSU yet, but since I'm done with Brookhaven and only have a few days for summer break, I don't think it's worth introducing the tag "summer days."

I leave four days from today.

Last Day of School

Currently reading:
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (Pt.2)
Jules Verne

I took both tests today. It was really hot in the car so I gave up on studying and just walked in. Having said that, I believe I have an A in college algebra. Because the final was multiple choice, it didn't take much time and anyone who knows how to use a calculator could pass it.

Perryl couldn't come home today. He scheduled an adviser meeting for tomorrow rather than wait for school to start, so he should be home tomorrow afternoon. I didn't know what to do after that so I organized all the internet pictures I've collected. I cleaned my room and bathroom for the last time.

I started talking to Kellye again the other day. Apparently she's been thinking about establishing contact for a while but thought I was angry from back then. So, now that we're both more mature, we'll see how this goes.

I'm almost done implementing some of the edits Jonathan did to my short story. I'm thinking of quickly pulling out a flash fiction which is a story in a hundred words or less. I don't remember seeing one before so I'm not exactly sure how they're supposed to work - to what scope.

Here's what my parents do to prepare me for tests:

Merle is very lady-like:


I think I'm going to leave for Colorado Wednesday morning instead of Tuesday.

Read Me Until I'm Read

Today I ran along to Dandelion's workplace for lunch. It was a pretty long and confusing drive out where there are a lot of fields and, of course, she out-directed the GPS. I snagged her and we ran off to a food conglomeration whence we found Taco Cabana. They DID NOT have fish tacos, but I'm glad I got to avoid eating meat today. She got some chip and dip deal and I got a burrito and a taco, which ended up being like the burrito except harder to eat and with everything flying out of it.

After leaving, we went to this nearby nature preserve of which I can't remember the name. I brought my magic briefcase of games and we chessed like there's no tomorrow. There might not be a tomorrow. I kept overlooking all these obvious moves and she lowered her game to be on my level because that's how she is: self-sacrificing. I really do prefer to be beaten; then I know everyone was doing their best.

And she fixed up my turkey feather! I can't remember the term she actually said - something like "pimp your feather." I don't know. So now we both have feathers hanging from the windshield mirror, soaring on currents of A/C air. I now see why turkeys do not fly.
So we hanged out at her workplace which was abandoned. I do not know how she coordinates three businesses worth of employees and orders. She really underplays what she does.

I gave her the new Andrew Bird CD and a permanent wish (an oak gall of which I peeled the outer layer off). I don't think it turned out as permanent as I'd hoped, but better than I'd expected.

Then I went to class and found out the fourth test and final are on due tomorrow, so that's what I'm doing before Perryl gets in. Hopefully tomorrow night he and I and Jonathan will get together and see some weird bar. Hopefully before I leave I will see dandelion again.

Less than a week left...

P.S. Dandelion, they cut down that tree by the entrance of Brookhaven where I fell in the bed of wild carrot. The limbs are everywhere. If only wood could bleed.

I'm Disillusioned

Currently listening to:
Do You Realize?
Flaming Lips

So last night, I met Kayla at White Rock Lake and we talked and drank champagne. The field wasn't foggy like last time, I guess it's a thing of the seasons. Anyway, it was humid and warm and I felt all sticky. Kayla and I tried to figure out the back seats of my car since I haven't really had to deal with them at all. By 2 AM I was just mush in consciousness, so Kayla decided it was time to go.
*****
Theeen, in the morning I awoke to a ticket on my windshield. An hour after I got home, some cop charged me for parking the wrong way on a street. I wasn't aware I could park wrong and not feel like something was wrong! It truly is a BS non-moving rule since parking either way doesn't hinder other drivers. So now I know something that should have been taught to me in Driver's Ed. I think they should do warnings before punishing, especially since cops patrol our neighborhood every night and I've been parking the same way since I got the car.

I went to get Jonathan so he could be moral support as I got my passport papers turned in. Turns out everything my mom had printed was out of date, so I transcribed and found out passports aren't $97 anymore; they are $110 plus $25 processing. Of course, it's not that simple; the $110 had to be on a check, while the $25 had to be in cash. Seems very unsafe to be dealing with cash.
I feel pilfered and I assume this is how adults feel everyday. Each time I get punished without warning, I just become totally apathetic. We need money to live in the current society, but the society actively sucks money out of us for small insignificant things. Really: who cares which direction my car faces on a two-way street?

We left for Kayla's and I realized that we had left the outdated forms on the bench and it had my SSN on it with every other detail of my life. So I called the office once we got to Kayla's and was put on hold. For the next ten minutes visions of Mexicans flooding into the country under my identity (a running joke for the rest of the day) flashed before my eyes, until someone answered. I told the guy to burn the papers, but he shredded them instead.

The three of us went to El Fenix, the second time for me recently. I had a margarita that was three times stronger than previous ones, but I also had an empty stomach except for the mounds of chips and tortillas I ate. I swear I will never eat at any of those affiliated restaurants as long as I remember. So I stumbled out and we watched Cheaters at Kayla's for a while. I swear I will not watch TV as long as I remember.

Then I skipped class. School in a week. I'm scared.

A Couple Pasts

A replacement battery I ordered came in yesterday. I tried it in my phone with and without the power cord and each time the screen said "Please use genuine battery. Shutting down." I'm not sure what this means since both batteries look identical. How would a phone know the difference between batteries? How does it know the word 'genuine'? Strange stuff. I guess it's just a dud, so I'll have to arrange an exchange.

My parents seemed tired today. I think they were made tired by going grocery shopping and getting gas. I'm pretty sure they don't like the way the US is headed, the commercialism. I kind of feel the same way, but I keep a gentle air about me. People should be more like water.
*****
I was remembering my high school trip to New York today. It's such a big, dirty, restless place; though also very diverse and eclectic. Perhaps I was mostly impressed by the use of light - I like light - but when I remember the family trips in an RV and the small old-fashioned town and the endless unwinding road that pierced through its heart, New York doesn't stand a chance. An open sky clear of man's architectural marvels, where stars can shine, impress me far more than any big city. I speak from the standpoint of one unaccustomed to it, though.
*****
I'm basically done with a tentative short story I've been wracking myself with. I think I'll call it "Study of a Being," and let Jonathan edit it before tossing it aside for some months.

"You gotta pay attention to these things."

That's what I say quite often. There's a lot of detail that is overlooked by most people because the source may not apply to their lives, or something. For instance, tonight at a restaurant I saw this couple that seemed like they were from the past, maybe thirty or forty years ago, and were in the present time, wearing modern clothes, trying to pass themselves off at modern Americans. My mom said there was nothing unusual about them, though. Other people didn't give them a second glance; they were outside their lives, their night plans.

I always say "you have to pay attention to these things" because, if not you, then who? I'm sure another person may notice, but there's no way for you to know that. So take in the human condition and maybe write a little about it, just action for action, through your lens.
*****
Last night I went out with Jonathan and Kayla. We went to this 24hour foodspot. Jonathan and Kayla wanted to sit outside because it was too cold inside, so I had to sacrifice atmosphere. They even had live music inside!
I got cactus! I believe the dish is called nopales and it came with black beans and eggs. The other two got some sort of french toast deal. A guy sat alone at the table next to ours, I think listening to our childish banter about theatre and life. I wonder about the people that come out late at night and sit alone drinking coffee. Where are they coming from and going to? Is it a matter of sleep trouble? I guess I might be one someday, but I hope I can do it with a friend.
*****
Today was the bbq to finish the AmeriCorps period. I turned in my last time sheet and I'm done! This girl, Hannah, whom I haven't seen since the initial training, and Chris were my buddies from 8:30-1:15. Then we parted.

There were many veggie burgers, which was good - I'm glad they took note from last time. They also had this bag of mixed snacks and on the back it had an ingredient list for all five different things in it. Of course I showed this to the interns I worked with and we all had a good laugh about how ridiculous I am. I was feeling very loose at the bbq and Hannah said she didn't know anyone quite like me. That's probably a good thing.

Last Day of Work

Currently reading:
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (pt.1)
Jules Verne

Today was the last day of the internship. It was mostly a hangout day until the other interns and supervisors returned. Then us AmeriCorps people gave out presentations. The supervisor was very sneaky about it, I don't think any of us realized that the others had projects and that we were building toward a day of presentations. I was right when I said our going away party was a final bout of work. The pizza and coffee cake were good, though.

The whole deal was like my sister's graduation, we went up one at a time and something was said about each of us. Mine was that I take pride in what I work on and put in a full effort and was a strong leader in projects. Then we all got goodies: patch, hat, mug, a copy of Last Child in the Woods (which is a good book I've been waiting to get). The supervisor was tearing up by the end of it. I guess it's kind of like having children grow up and go off to college, not having their soft footfalls on the floor - except all those years go by in a ten week period.

Before I left, I jumped in the electric go-cart with two of the younger interns who know how to drive very fast, drift, and not go off a cliff. A couple times, young trees or tall grass was run down which caused some disagreement amongst us. Then we got to a gated off area and quickly turned into a wild area very overgrown. Large branches jumped up at us and giant ragweed were mowed down in a way very reminiscent of running over people in video games. At one point, a big ripe bur plant was hiding behind some vegetation we drove over and it exploded over the front of the cart, covering each of us in the seeds. I'm glad I got out shortly after that.
*****
Something I've noticed with many of the girls I try to hangout with is their claim of indecision. Someone can leave the day up to them and they say "whatever you want to do" or "I'm not picky" or any variation. I really do not believe there's nothing they care a great deal to do. Maybe it's some sort of gender deal, following along with the male figure's point of direction. I'm not sure. I always wait for a decision on the girls' part, and if they don't make one we sit where we are and talk. Then again, if I'm always waiting for them to make a decision perhaps I'm the indecisive one.
Nah, I can come up with what I like to do.

She Wrote the Prologue to the Rest of My Life

Currently listening to:
Fillmore Jive
Pavement

So ends another chapter in my life; or maybe the chapter is still going. I no longer know because I'm still living in it. What I do know is a transition has happened, a conclusion has been reached. It's like a well-written book: the end comes gradually and you accept it - there's nothing else you can do. The characters and tales will be missed. It's not a dead-end ending or one that leaves the reader perturbed, it is comfortable and quiet.

What I'm vaguely alluding to is a period of cheating in my life which has ended. I'm no longer as tightly entangled in Dandelion's relationship - not "the other guy" anymore. I understand her wanting to see what more can happen with her relationship, that's her story. I'll continue writing mine; including my book, the story of everyone. I don't know how to capture all these feelings, so I'm just throwing in bits and pieces.

In the end, this is probably the right thing for the time. Being picked up and set back down, the nausea of a roller coaster, is no way to live. These pains temper me, and now I have a release. I hope she holds me as a bird, loose but not so loose that I fly away, so that if she ever turns around I'll be there, somewhat familiar.

To my future self:
I hope you don't need reminding, but remember she's done more for you in one summer than any of the previous relationships. Despite the unforeseen "break-up," you are much stronger than you were, perhaps even more certain of who you are and who you want to be. I hope you stayed in touch with her.

On another note, I remember that gut wrenching feeling of break-ups from the beginning of everything. It seems after a succession of them, the feeling becomes a dull ache instead of the burning-stop-eating-it's -all-over feeling and that is called "becoming stronger." That more children didn't commit suicide in the throes of those first break-ups always surprised me. It's sort of like the survival of the fittest of relationships.

She said she wants to return all the letters I gave her, but keep the artful things. I understand the risk in harboring them and her desire to have me as her best kept secret without physical evidence lying around, but I'm just not sure. If it's this or her burning them, I guess I'll hold onto them until she's ready to take them back. I just may charge interest!

There are two moments of relief I have experienced recently: the first is this release; the second is when I realized there was nothing I could give her that she didn't already have. I have no poetic way to describe the feeling of that weight lifting off of me. I had permission to be me and not try to live up to anything, and maybe that has eased this release. I think that is the attitude that should be sought after in relationships; two people being together, not expecting anything, - that's love.

Part of me misses the shenanigans of the first meetings but maybe those become prime numbers as the relationship deepens. I really will miss the adventures and the ones that won't ever seem to finish, though maybe there will be time for them someday? I'm just glad to have her for a best friend and provide her with a close friend. Perhaps someday we'll walk the same path in step, or at least speak in the old terms in the open.

I could go on and on - that's just the effect she has on me - but I'll stop. I know this sounds very final, but it's actually just a beginning.