At heart, I'm an idealist. It's the reason why I'm an moral absolutist. And it's the reason I'm a romantic. It's the reason I'm a humanist.

And, while they may certainly conflate from time to time, I wouldn't say I'm an optimist. Leastwise, not on its own. I can say I'm an idealist in all cases though. It says nothing of expectation.

And yet I've never been able to say I'm a cynic either, even more so than being able to say I'm an optimist. I guess that I just can't say that I expect the worst every time, shockingly enough.

Optimistic realist.

I've said it before here. And I suppose it incorporates every aspect. An optimist because the hope that things will turn out the best but not an expectation because of the realism needed to understand life. An idealist because how could you be an optimist and not expect ideals to fit into everything turning out for the best?

Yet that doesn't really get at how my realism has been shaped by life. I have this habit of encouragement. I start by listing everything that's awful and terrible. And I steadily list the worse and worse things until, at the end, it seems utterly insurmountable. And then I list everything that's great or to look forward to.

Because I don't think the world will end in sunshine and rainbows (not even double rainbows). And I guess I didn't really make it clear before that there's a sense of irony when I mention that I've never been able to say I'm a cynic, given my "realistic" expectations of just how bad life can get.

I mean, if I were to be passingly crass, I'd say that life will fuck you over. I would say that it will break you. There's no short words for what I think life (let alone people) will do to you.

My glasses are not rose-tint, unless that was meant to be ironically within the same color range as dark red.

And then people come and nurse you back, give you a crutch when you want to slump. I haven't done a single word of my paper for 4 days now, I have no idea how I will get my sleep back in order to study for comp. sci. exams while also forming my research paper, and I am more than furious with recent events and I yet find myself once again humbled by the strength and support from those around me to aid those we care so deeply about.

Truth be told? I don't count on happy endings. I'd say I don't believe in them except that that isn't true.

It's of course what we should strive for. I'm an idealist, after all.

But don't expect it.

I've noticed this bizarre trend between my artwork and my expectations. Or my interests and my expectations (they often conflate, logically, right?). I expect that I could have a family (perhaps with just adopted kids, perhaps married, I don't know, but some form of a family). I have friends who I will know and stay in touch with and will likely have a huge part, if I can help it, in my future family's life (as an adopted aunts/uncles, you know?).

And yet, as I wrote somewhere here a while ago, I write about the death of dreams. My work is interested in the human development in the presense of the myriad of things that life may throw at you.

Perhaps the best way to make it clear is to look to the left side of my xanga page (though I specifically designed the entire page layout as a perfect representation of my life view, down to the very background music (Can I Live, anyone?)).

There's a quote from Catcher In the Rye, when Holden is watching Phoebe at the end of the book go on the merry-go-round. He's got it exactly: "I felt so damn happy all of a sudden," being as crass as necessary to convey that entirely base, blunt, and powerful emotion at the moment.

It's the pinacle moment, the articulation of everything the book has strived to represent and it is beautiful - and it breaks him. In the sight of such beauty, in so damn imperfect a world (a word that will likely scour, kill, and eradicate the purity of everything that is beautiful in this moment), he breaks at the sight of this. And he regrets none of it.

And as we greet Holden again in the mental hospital, we get that absolutely perfect ending: "Don't tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody." Perhaps it's just the state I've grown to, but I'm more concerned with the message sent and what that means in terms of the character than necessarily the concrete result. He rejects everything. After this plea and harping on life, he gets fed up and rejects it all with that same nihilism: "Don't tell anybody anything."

I'll let you read what you may from it.

I'd never tell you that life isn't beautiful. And, considering my own romanticism, I'd never tell you not to enjoy every second of it. But it is just as tragic - with no true knowledge of where it might end up. And that, in itself, is beautiful and tragic.

Perhaps it's this contradiction that makes me love the character Harley Quinn so much.

Finding the right person to date, for me, tends to be a more...complicated affair than I ever like. See, fundamentally, even regardless of any other possible traits, there is always a particular trait that I want that, in essence, tends to be (what I feel is) a reflection of myself - I want complexity. Not in the most general sense but in that you near contradict yourself.

As both Laura and jess are a testament to, I tend to prefer someone with an incredibly engagable personality, most often articulated in a public personality that is often completely agreeable. In fact, it often borders on being mistaken for being simplistic and, by extension, stupid (which, really, makes far more sense than you might initially assume; if people were to look only at my sense of humor, I'm either the driest individual you may come by or, on the other side of the spectrum, a complete asshole who completely banks on shock value for any sort of reaction or poor sex jokes. Focus on one aspect of anyone and you miss the possible complexity of their personality. This is just more easy a crime to commit since the public personality is the one we see of a person most often and, for some, entirely).

However, you'd be a fool (and also a bit of an ass) to assume as much. Get to know the person and they're utterly intelligent, often troubled, very much self-aware (ironically, even if they themselves aren't aware of it), etc.

And it's often such specificity that screws me over. I need someone who's patient enough and able to push me enough to deal with my intense shyness. At the same time, I need someone shy enough to not be domineering and to allow me take a leading role as well.

I want someone who actually challenges me. If I can sum them up easily (and, with so many people, that isn't that difficult), there's a problem. Which, in and of itself, often implies constant contradiction. Passionate, yet able to be subdued when appropriate in certain situations. Have to be independent and able to stand on their own, yet not optimally happy that way so they need someone to lean on and get support from (hence a huge component on most relationships). Someone jaded enough to not be happy-go-lucky yet willing to believe there's more out there. Like I've said before here, I need a dreamer. I need someone who feels that utterly pull to chase something. If you're not looking forward, you'll clash heavily with my own personality.

And part of that is what I feel is a huge problem - I need someone, in a sense, who is troubled.

I have clinical depression, along with a..."pleasant" childhood. I have a taste for the warped. The dark and dreary is not something which will not forever be a component of my life. As I've said before here, I don't plan to - and probably couldn't - cut that out of my life.

I like more extreme things. While I often being incredibly straight-lace in almost anything, I can look at things with a fascinated impartiality (I told my cousin, off a random thought, yesterday to try reading Catcher In the Rye but with Holden having a sexual crush on Phoebe, largely to just gross out my cousin, but also because the perversity of such a reading actually being possible is intriguing, when you really think about it). And that impartiality, as well as a bit of my hyperbolic sense of humor, is partially how I approach the world.

I don't want to hold back.

And I don't want to necessarily fall into old conventions about things but would rather explore something and decide for myself what to think of it all.

I'm being far too vague but I couldn't put things into more specific a way without going into specific examples, at which point things would be so specified that we'd need many examples in order to cover everything I'm talking about in every different case they might show up as.

My point is - pain, suffering, disillusionment, fear, even anger, are all very human. And while I don't want to be yelled at, I do want to see all of those things. You cannot possibly be completely un-traumatized by some point in your life or even your present. Share that. It's a part of you. Plus to be devoid of such things is boring.

People are messy. People are not perfect and they're incapable of being packaged in these nice little boxes.

Do not try to shove yourself into one of them. Frustration can be endearing and it's not something I don't want to deal with.

While, yes, being happy and getting along and being enjoyable is nice, that's not all of who we are. And, I guess, what I'm trying to say...you're more interesting that way so why hide it? Why deal with it in private.

I want someone who's able to control themselves and yet can be a mess. I want fucking complexity. Be varied, be vast, be radiant.

Yesterday/today have been shockingly amazing.

Unfortunately, someone after a party had written Fag on one of the Freshmen dorms. Well, several school officials have sent out school-wide E-mails admonishing this and talking about how to improve things. One of my teachers made it the focus of discussion for our class. And College Council is holding a meeting specifically in light of this.

A bunch of the Queer students decided that we wanted some changes, and we were going to ask the administration to make them happen. One, a full-time Queer Life Coordinator, which only makes sense (particularly in light of this instance). Also, Queer Studies as a separate study instead of just Women and Gender Studies with classes that happen to touch on concepts of sexuality and that can confer a major. Transforming the house where Queer Student Union meetings take place into a Gender and Sexuality Resource Center, entailing its own library (literary and media) and an archive of the history of anything gender and sexuality related that's happened on campus. Further training for Junior Advisers and Baxter Fellows (read resident adviser, in a sense) on issues of sexuality and gender identity. Finally, gender neutral housing that would allow opposite sex roommates, plus probably greater sensitivity to the needs of Trans students as far as housing goes.

We'll present our wanted-changes at the College Council meeting. If there is no response or appropriate effort from the administration by Sunday, we'll stage a sit-in and make noise until actual change (these same issues have been coming up since 1970; we're tired of waiting) that can help this campus in effective and constant ways is established.

I also happened to see the Lady Gaga video for Bad Romance today, which was surprising more mature and insightful than I ever expected from Lady Gaga (granted, seeing as I've only heard her stuff on a very surface-like level, I am totally up for being proven that my original opinions were wrong and judgemental).

Lastly, I talked to my professor about my paper due, got a topic and paper figured out with her, and had a good discussion about The Great Gatsby. It's amazing what they don't teach you about it in high school. It's far more complex than I ever imagined, and I like it all the more for it. It's jumped significantly higher on my list of favorite books, and I can't wait to write my final paper for the class on it.

I just feel so incredibly stimulated today, it's fantastic. I sat down with one of my readings of theory for class and couldn't wait to dive into it and wrestle with the ideas, instead of being bored with it. It's mindblowing, really; such good days, I really hope for more.

For whatever reason, today, I had a sudden flash of memory of the movie Radio. The trailer is below if you're not famliliar:

That, in turn, made me think of Flowers For Algernon (please tell me you all remember reading this way back when?? If not, you can read it here, in blog format: http://flowers-4-algernon.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2007-10-15T12%3A12%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=7 - start at the bottom and then work your way up the page to earlier and earlier entries). And my childhood comes flooding back to me.

May 20

I would not have noticed the new dishwasher, a boy. of about sixteen, at the corner diner where I take my evening meals if not for the incident of the broken dishes.
They crashed to the floor, shattering and sending bits of white china under the tables. The boy stood there, dazed and frightened, holding the empty tray in his hand. The whistles and catcalls from the customers (the cries of "hey, there go the profits!" . "Mazeltov!". . . and "well, he didn't work here very long" which invariably seem to follow the breaking of glass or dishware in a public restaurant) all seemed to confuse him.
When the owner came to see what the excitement was about, the boy cowered as if he expected to be struck and threw up his arms as if to ward off the blow.
"All right! All right, you dope," shouted the owner, "don't just stand there! Get the broom and sweep that mess up. A broom . . . a broom, you idiot! It's in the kitchen. Sweep up all the pieces."
The boy saw that he was not going to be punished. His frightened expression disappeared and he smiled and hummed as he came back with the broom to sweep the floor. A few of the rowdier customers kept up the remarks, amusing themselves at his expense.
"Here, sonny, over here there's a nice piece behind you...."
"C'mon, do it again."
"He's not so dumb. It's easier to break'em than to wash'em. . ."
As his vacant eyes moved across the crowd of amused onlook-ers, he slowly mirrored their smiles and finally broke into an uncertain grin at the joke which he obviously did not understand.
I felt sick inside as I looked at his dull, vacuous smile, the wide, bright eyes of a child, uncertain but eager to please. They were laughing at him because he was mentally retarded.
And I had been laughing at him too.
Suddenly, I was furious at myself and all those who were smirking at him. I jumped up and shouted, "Shut up! Leave him alone! It's not his fault he can't understand. He can't help what he is! But for God's sake . . . he's still a human being!"

I really want to just sit down one day and read, read so heavily and absorbidly that I can't even realize anything else is going on around me or how much time has passed. I just want to read without worry of second meanings and metaphors and allegory.

Not because I have a dislike for those, for I greatly wish I could pick them up without struggle - but because I haven't actually enjoyed reading without being distracted or thinking to myself some other activity might be more entertaining for a while now.

I want that back.

That's always seemed so ridiculous to me, that people would want to be around someone because they're pretty. It's like picking your breakfast cereal based on color instead of taste.
-John Green, Paper Towns
Thank you, Rachael

I don't know how I got here, but my emotions just took the plunge. I'm jittery, un-Godfully lonely, depressed, tired, anxious and restless, and still have homework.

Fuck, I feel awful...

Well, Kaz said I ought to blog about today, so here I am. He also said I should do it at 2 in the morning, but I feel like actually getting to bed around 12 tonight. What does it say about us if he's already started mocking my life habits?

I honestly didn't know you could talk for 8 hours just about media (books, comics, and movies) and talk about the different themes, metaphors, plot, and messages those medias have. I would say I guess that's what happens when you get two English majors together, but I'm pretty sure I've never had that with any English major I've ever talked to.
On that note, in part in honor of Sorina, xkcd life relevance:

Anyway, amongst our long (long) conversation we came up with the idea for a short story (which is absolutely epic). We were discussing ideas of how to distribute our books (when we finally write some we wish to publish) and I accidentally said bus instead of truck for how we'd distribute. This led into this whole idea of stealing a school bus in order to distribute the books (probably due to a lack of funds to rent a truck...I dunno).

Suddenly Kaz looks at me and goes, "We could write a story of this?" To which I respond, "What would be the point? Where would it go?"

And suddenly we realize.

We had been talking about absurdism and literary nonsense (genres of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and Alice In Wonderland, respectively) beforehand and thought we might apply it to the story.

So, aspects of the story are to be absurd in nature (not entirely in the sense that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead were, however). For example, stealing a school bus for children to transport books.

However, the entire story is to be grounded in realism (in a sense). The story is real. They are actually doing this. Random, though completely possible, events continue to unfold (a certain chase in the library will occur).

Also, while written in a very, or relatively, serious tone will also include all the usual literary devices, particularly that of themes, motifs, and metaphors. However, those three literary devices will be completely nonsensical. Special, homemade soda by the character will stand for the corruption of human kind. As the two running protagonists crash the school bus and must resort to stealing a book mobile, the reduction in vehicle size (and capability of use for vehicle) will represent the price of revenge. And even more absurd metaphors, etc.

There'll be random references to really old authors and their works. We'll choose a random genre (such as existentialism) and somehow incorporate the piece into that.

In short, it'll be a completely coherent mess that'll be amazing. We're both brimming with excitement at the prospect of such a short story.

Plus it'll actually get us to start writing again. I need to get a notebook to jot stuff down in. As much as my own philosophy is to challenge and engage the world all the time, I find myself to be far too lax towards it. Either that or I just have very high expectations. Maybe that's why I'm an English major. Literary analysis seems to embody this (and with that barely related tidbit and topic to which so much more could be said, I leave you. Goodnight...and goodbye (Dinosaurs reference for you 90s junkies)).

Looking over my footprints, I have some of the oddest reasons people come here, though there are a large amount who do (though that might just seem like that to me because I near to never check my footprints). It seems the largest reasons thus far is people looking for lyrics for "Hellfire"from The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Disney, "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica, and various songs by Bruce Springsteen (most recently "No Surrender"). Amuses me, because I don't think anyone beforehand ever came by here. Suppose 4, going on 5, years of journal can do that. Not that I mind. It's always been open to anyone. Not entirely sure you'll be interested, unless you actually know me, but it's free to browse around.

Know what annoys me? People who overlook something they deem "offensive" in a piece of work. If you have to over look anything - either the work is flawed or you're missing a crucial part of the work. Expand your minds a little.

In his novel Timequake, the late Kurt Vonnegut tells of the late jazz musician Fats Waller who, when he was in the throes of a brilliant performance, was prone to yell: “Somebody shoot me while I'm happy!”

I suppose I'm doing this largely to make up for my shameless advertising of my last two posts for credits (I figure I ought to try premium out at least once; I can't imagine it has much I'd actually miss, though). So, one of my favorite topics to talk about - depression.

If you didn't know, you now will know I have clinical depression. While never diagnosed by a doctor, you can only become down so many times before you question whether your failed attempts at trying may be failing for a reason. Chemically based, by my judgement.

Now, everyone has their opinions of it. Not everyone has the same type. The thing that has always scared me was knowing someone out there has it worse than me. I hope they, at least, have the sense to see a doctor about it.

Now, understand, I've kinda assumed I always was, to some extent, influenced by this. Even if it wasn't there at a young age, I drew a pleasure at the sad things in life, melancholy. This is crucial. Probably largely due to the depression, I have a deep love for the perverse and (to be utterly generic) depressing.

This being said, I can't say I've always loved depression wholeheartedly. It's had it's terrifying moments. Thus far (though I believe I've moved past this entirely by now) I've had 4 major "dips", starting at Freshman year and ending either during Junior year or the end of Sophomore year (what I've confusedly - and before I had a full understanding of what I was going through - referred to as Depressions).

My first Depression was mostly just a new experience. Lots of crying, lethargic, not wanting to do anything. I don't remember it as being that bad, for whatever reason. Bad, sure, and bordering on not functional. Yet a bit of crying and laziness isn't all that bad a thing to endure, particularly for a short period of time.

They kinda just got worse as they went along until the climax, my fourth one. I almost forgot just how bad that one was. Picture this: den of the house, doors are closed, parents are doing whatever and sure son is working on homework, son is in the corner - homework is on the desk - and trying to sob uncontrollably but only able to break into short bursts of tears before falling into the habit of regaining control. You don't even want to know what that's mentally like. Cliché? Sure, but it was true. I mean, the mental ability just goes to Hell and you're so badly exuding the feeling of misery that you can't even manage thinking of how to do simple tasks. In retrospect, this screams "bad, nonfunctional situation" but what's one to do when they don't know better (or can't really tell a financially struggling family that has no empathy bone in their body)? And it's definitely one of the few times I was scared for my life because I actually didn't know if I would actually commit suicide or not (as apposed to just constantly thinking about and wanting death, though knowing you'd never do it).

All that being said - I have to confess, I love aspects of depression.

The morbidity it provides is riveting. I mean, there's just something fucking beautiful about searing sarcasm, the dark, the twisted (which can lend to the idea of insanity - Dark Knight, anyone (there's a reason I love Batman)?), and, most of all, something movingly emotional in the breaking or hurt of a person. We're most stunning when we're fragile - which, of course, is ironic. Because we like confidence, certainly. Yet there's something moving in our open rareness. Seen The Wrestler? His very being is moving in his emotion. There's something stunning by so big a figure and clearly hardened one that just cries. I admit, this was the largest reason I went to see the movie (plus my boyfriend at the time was paying...).

While I have a deep love for nature, I can't forget the city. I love infrastructure, though the combination of the two is utter heaven. And yet, just the city alone is enticing. The steel, the bareness, almost, of it. The dark, the cramped place, the feeling of being closed in.

(okay, not technically city, but the idea of manmade structures)

And yet, that picture brings us exactly to the point. It's not all I'm looking at.

Particularly for a picture such as this one, I can't help but get excited - but in the sense of this is the beginning of a novel. This is the setting - now what?

So, the logical ending is happy, right? If this isn't the desire, but only the start - the end must be happy. And, in the question of life, I don't think anyone doesn't want a happy ending. But...I don't want to let go of the sad. In the right doses and the right parts - I like the sad.

My planned out book deals entirely with depression, actually. Its very layout mirrors the mind set of the (at least myself) depressed. It's something that permeates your entire being, really. It becomes an identity for you, to an extent.

But this identity slowly kills you everyday, makes you a pessimist, and (often) makes you quite suicidal. I've always been fond of saying, if not for the whole suicidal part and never being able to ever get rid of it, I'd make sure everyone goes through depression once because it opens your eyes to so much and creates an appreciation you won't find in many other places. Needless to say - this isn't healthy.

So Emo, but it makes the truth of it all that more alarming. And I think that's the balance we're always trying to find - how do I enjoy living with what I have?

My argument would be finding things which make you happy. Maybe it's just my depression leveling out to being controllable but I just see it as needing something to equal out the depression. Of course, that brings the question that if you had something for that long, would you just get bored of it and want to move on. I always used to (still do, from time to time) wonder if I could actually be happy with anything - and not get tired of it, wear it out, and just stay satisfied.

Well, guess I have to. What other option? Well, there is one, but I closed the idea long ago. It seems we see the world. ...or, because I think 60% of people have it, that's why we see the world. But even still, for all its construction and all else, I'm enraptured.

Well, I've dived back into xkcd comics. Never heard of them (xkcd.com)?

I must thank Katie Holbrook sometime entirely for showing me this splendid internet strip.

I remember reading an article about Bill Waters (author of Calvin and Hobbs) and they had noted how some critics picked up on the fact that Waters can actually draw. Technically, so can this guy, but you have to admire his unneed to.

The catch phrase of the website is A Webcomic of Romance, Sarcasm, Math, and Language. This is so true. One thing I really like about the site is that it totally plays to intellectuals and geeks.

A lot.

I, personally, am in total love with that last one. The comic also tends to focus on some stuff which, I think, our generation relates to far more.

I have to say, I do love the artistic variation on a familiar theme in the above one. But one of the best things about this comic is that it can go from an odd hybrid of intellectual and inane humor (that only it could pull off),

to a seriousness that seems almost out of place. As the catch phrase says, romance is in the equation. And plenty of it. All too often, the drawer offers (in a idealistic, hopeful fashion) love as the only solutions to our problems sometimes. In one comic, as two men start to ponder questions and their speech spills out, filling the page, the strip collapses upon itself, all sense of boxes and coherance lost in a mess of words and lines. Then, out of it emerges half-boxes with two people in them. They hold hands and walk off, amid the reckage on the page. At times the strip does nothing more than point out subtle IFs and MAYBEs and, in an almost surreal way, demonstrates itself as incredibly poignant.


The caption on the site was, "This one makes me wince everytime I think about it." Other times, it infuses its humor with the notes on romance.

Some happen to be straight serious.

It's odd because the picture shows nothing we haven't been told before. The artwork is drawn in stick figures. Yet I find the faceless characters to stand for something and the scene no less gripping than it needs to be. I dunno, it strikes home for me.

Otherwise, though, xkcd is just plain fun:

So many awesome references for an Epic Win.

That one will be my favorite forever.

Anyway, that was incredibly long and large, but I felt it needed to be said. If you read all of the strips, congrats. I think it's a good comic with a lot of subtle art.

On a completely unrelated note, check this out: http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.matthewgood.org%2F2009%2F04%2Fand-then-beauty-showed-up%2F&h=b8c38379fb5dcf691c924d5637043670. Kaz showed it to me. It speaks for itself. Watch the vid in the link!