Describe your dream vacation. Where would you go and what would you do?
Some people on here are going to understand this all too well.

Disney World. Get a bunch of close friends and go to Disney World. It would be perfect.   

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I guess I should have an actual entry by now? It's been a bit of a while. Then again, my xanga has been more just my thoughts than an actual journal of my days. On the other hand...I haven't really given you guys much of actual entries as of late (either that or I'm just exercising my excellent inability to estimate time). So, for those who actually read this still, if any, what I've been up to as of late:

It's currently Winter Study, which means three weeks of one class chosen before Winter Break. I decided to take Atheism in part out of interest and in part because I thought a decent amount of the Williams Secular Community would sign up as well. Well...not exactly. A Freshman who attended some meetings at the beginning of the year and someone who had been abroad the past semester, so - at first - I thought that I knew no one in the class.

It's interesting. The class is basically entirely discussion based. We do some assigned reading the night before and then discuss the points made in them, which often unravels into many other related topics.

As for class makeup, there's 8 atheists, a Christian who's in Williams Christian Fellowship, and myself (Roman Catholic, born and raised (the raised part is a joke)). Andy is, I think, Evangelical, but he's ever so slightly more liberal in his theology (believes in evolution without discrediting the notion of a relative creation story). It adds an interesting element to the discussions.

I haven't revealed my own religious convictions to the group yet but that's largely because I don't want to commit myself to anything when I'm wrestling and weighing different types of arguments as much as because I like to play with expectations and it's easier to play the Devil's advocate when your identity is ambiguous (and, I suppose, passing has just become second nature to me by now).

However, Andy (the Christian of the group) did happen to catch me outside of class when my crucifix was outside my shirt, so he was happy to find a fellow Christian in the class. In a situation that seemed so ironic it just has to be beautiful, it soon became clear that not all our same tenets aligned as I disagreed with him on what tends to be, regardless of sect, something most Christians believe in - whether belief in God is necessary for entry into Heaven. Neither of us left the conversation persuaded by the other, but I absolutely loved the conversation regardless.

It's an interesting class and I'm really enjoying it, though disliking the 10 page paper due at the end. Plus only 2 weeks left of Winter Study....

As most of my friends know by now, I sprained my wrist playing broomball with the Marching Band. We won the game (quite beautifully with 3 or 2 to 0), though. It seems to be on the mend, which shocks me because it's only been 48 hours and I've been expecting at least a week for recovery. This, of course, doesn't discourage my general motto towards my body that if I let it take care of itself, it'll mend any sort of pain, disease, or cut on its own without any assistance.

Speaking of which, staying over Chelsea's dorm for the night to watch Tinman (sci. fi. version of The Wizard of Oz (she knows me too well...). Apparently the same person's also made a sci. fi. version of Alice In Wonderland) while Chels was sick turned into me catching whatever she had. I woke up this morning with the worst throat ache I've ever had. Taking my temperature confirmed also that I had a slight fever. It being 7:48 in the morning, I didn't want to deal with it and went back to sleep. By 2 today, the throat pain was barely noticeable anymore and (I assume) my temperature has returned to normal.

The less pleasant portion of this story started at lunch (though flared up partially yesterday). I was just sitting there and, well, I just wanted to curl up right there. It's odd to explain. It's like you want to be alone yet hate it, wanting to do something but all that ends up being is just rocking back and forth. It often happens when I just leave the presence of other people. The thing is, you can't really tell when it's gonna come. I'm pretty sure it's a result of depression - I mean, what else am I going to blame random, out-of-the-blue, tormenting, unsettling feelings on? While I can generally expect a downer after having a great time, it also seems to go in cycles. Combined, this can throw off expectation. The other possibility is that I'm just losing control more as time goes on. The depression (as it goes untreated) could be getting worse. I have a distinct feeling I'm going to suffer a panic attack someday soon, which will be a clear sign things have gone very, very differently. Then again, I've been talking about me losing control on things I once had since Sophomore year of high school, so who knows. I have to admit, there'd be a bit of comedy (that I couldn't well enough just ignore) if I avoided suicide those many times just to lose control of myself by wearing out depression.

But now I'm just being a downer. They say that there's two parts to therapy - changing the way you think, see things, et cætera, and the chemicals. Well, I know my shit is chemically based by now. Again, such mood swings that are so disturbingly strong are not normal. It's the changing the way I think part that bothers me. For one, I'm pretty sure my thought process and certain ideas and opinions (in relation to depression) are formed by the mental disorder itself. If I can be happy, the depressing is generally miles from my brain (though that might be a polarized effect - when I'm happy, I'm just happy and I'm over the top with it, a result of the fact that when I'm neutral I'm slightly depressed and "tainted" and then everything else from there is just worse; but I may be generalizing so don't take this as necessarily fact).

However - as I've said many, many times - there's a great beauty to the sad, the depressing. I still stand by my belief that pain makes the most beautiful people. To me, we can be breathtaking in anguish. And we cannot forget the amazing delicacy and beauty in recovery. To be allowed past those walls others construct is humbling when we remember just what it means to be allowed to enter those places of another person.

In many other innumerable ways, I find the depressing to be intensely amazing. Sure, too much of such a thing hurts (I've gone over this perilous system a million times in the past, no need for repetition). So, I'll pass on the therapy. Just give me something to fix this imbalance. I suppose it's void, however, since I'm likely never to seek treatment. Once you get past that hump around Sophomore to Junior year (those with this know what I'm talking about), it's easy to deal with for the most part there on out.

Gah, I'd really like to be in bed now...it's 4:43. So, while I was running to grab food as quick as I could for dinner, I stopped by the grill for pizza (bad choice, but oh well). As I was sitting, eating, this guy (I think) was looking at me. I just remember I made eye contact, it seemed I might know him, so I nodded as acknowledgement just in case. He nodded back and said, "They're not that bad." He was regarding my Black Sabbath t-shirt. "I've been getting into them lately, listening off of YouTube, you know; they're pretty good. I like Paranoid, and Sabbath Bloody Sabbath." Admittedly, it sounded so damn weird the way he said it, like they were a new band or something. But perhaps I'm biased, since I happen to think that Black Sabbath happens to sound downright Godly.

Now, I'm absolutely awkward socially and this is the most apparent in people I don't know extremely well. So, I nod, say that's cool, keep nodding, not sure what else to say. He nods, then kinda turns away and waves his hand in a dismissive fashion while saying, "Yeah." It basically looked like he wasn't sure what to say as well and then decided that that's all he could say and was confirming that this was, indeed, a good moment to just stop talking. Totally fair enough.

Then, for a split second, I think, "Wait, was he trying to hit on me?" Now, such random questions tend to pop into my head regularly, largely because I question everything (regardless if it deserves such skepticism or not) anyway. I generally dismiss such thoughts, as I did. But then I saw the guy talking to another guy I recognized who I know is gay but not really involved in the gay/Trans community on campus and not really with much of a gay identity.

So...maybe I wasn't so off after all. Which then makes his shyness just plain cute (but I'm a romantic, so I find any sort of stuff such as this by anyone as cute). He should've just gone for it; you might get a no, but you never know unless you try (alright, I realize I'm a downright hypocrite for saying this, but I'm trying to do better).

I got up to leave shortly afterwards but then The River by Springsteen came on, and I just froze where I was. I have to wonder if it's just nostalgia that makes me so affected by his songs. I literally just stopped. Then again, I was also still tripping off of these odd depression emotions (and drinking soda, laced with sugar, probably helped nothing). In any case, I ended up staying until the song finished.

Now I sleep!

Who is your role model? Why?
I never exactly had role models. I'm far too specific to expect that anyone got everything exactly right. I learn, constantly, from others and then sort through it myself and come to my own conclusions. I suppose the only person who really came close to being one in the past for me was Victoria.

More than anything, however, I just try to be kind to other people. My biggest concern in life is the well-being of others.

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Though we hardly talk as often as you'd expect for close friends, there's a deep feeling of comfort to hearing jess's voice once again.

And, to be certain, I'm no angel in this whole thing.

I had meant to write something in regard to what happened with Allison for half a year now, but I've always had this habit of taking forever to get to things.

As I said once before, all too often, I find myself talking in terms of my ex-girlfriends because I think I've learned so much of them. Sometimes it's from my own fucking up.

I'm mostly doing this because, once again, there's not really ever been a full explanation of it. I remember shortly after we had broken up she happened to run into me when I was hanging with Vikki (and I want to say someone else, but I cannot remember) - which isn't surprising, considering me and Allison often spent a lot of time after school before.

Vikki and I were being our usual selves and oddly wrapped around each other or lying over the other one. So, naturally, when Vikki was off doing something else, Allison asked if Vikki and I were a couple. To which I, accordingly, felt ashamed because the poor girl was probably thinking I had left her to go to Vikki. This was not the case; Vikki and I have always just had no sense of private space. After telling Allison no, she (of course) asks why we had broken up. If I remember, she brought up some possible cause that, to me, should have never mattered in the grand scheme of things. More than anything, though, I remember how utterly vulnerable she looked.

For a girl with so much unfair crap to work through and who could put on a façade when she wanted to (or perhaps it was just instinctual at times), it always surprises me how easily she'll let people in or just throw down her defenses at you - almost to say, "Go ahead, do as you will. I'm in your hands now."

I remember standing there, uncomfortable, and just responding, "I don't know." Bullshit excuse, no? Hah, it always is, when you don't mean it.

And yet, roughly a year and a half later, that's still the only answer I have. I have no clue why something which, by any reasonable measuring, should have been markedly longer (for one) and more meaningful than it ended up having to settle for should have just burnt out so brutally and suddenly.

Maybe I should start a little bit more towards the beginning?

I can't remember how I met Allison exactly. Okay, let me take that back. I distinctly remember my first memory of Allison. She was a Freshman and standing next to a friend of hers in the hallway that many of the bandies swarmed after they were kicked out of in front of the band room, trying to shake her ass, and going, "____, look. Look." I can't remember the exact point she was trying to make (I think a reference to something; it was just a random dance of some sort). I just remember shaking my head and thinking, "Good God, Freshmen…."

At that time, I doubt I knew her name. I later ran into her and she said she thought we knew each other when she was trying to tell me why someone else I just barely had seen around and talked to 3 times at most was not at school that day. This actually makes more sense than it would seem. I'm the type to consider someone I just met a friend and, back in the day, would be certain to get their attention every time I saw them and say hello to them. It was a social mechanism I had picked up from Middle School, when I was a wall flower and getting acquaintances was good enough as far as I was concerned for human interaction.

The reason I'm "uncertain as to how I met Allison" is because after those moments, I don't know when barely seeing her and saying no more than 2 words to her turned into spending a ton of time with her. I just remember she was one of those who unexplainably just got a crush on me and then pursued me like all Hell.

She usually had to spend time after school for some type of job. I was usually after school because I could then use the computers there for hours on end with no interruption and seeing friends over my parents at home was always more worthwhile. My next memories of her are staying after school. Its this time I remember her interested in trying to date me. I don't exactly remember how she made this known, however. I do remember it wasn't direct, like a blunt statement of it.

However, Laura and I had just broken up for the first time. And there was no way in Hell anyone was getting to me after that one, no matter how hard they tried. And tried Allison did. While only one person possibly came upon my radar during those 4 months of being single (*cough*Kari*cough*), Allison did make it clear she was interested in me. And I, of course, was hesitant. It finally came to a head after school one night when I was heading out to get picked up by my dad.

Allison is standing there with me (as I remember it) with herself wrapped around me. I'm kinda not really reacting in hopes that she'll get the idea. She says something which I can't seem to remember anymore. I ask, "So, where do we go from here?" She pauses, then looks at me and kinda pats my shoulder, responding, "I'm gonna think about it." Then adds as a side thought, "Yes, I do think about things, Jon," as if I've bought into the rumors about her and assume this.

So, now I must actually give hard thought to this. So I mull it around for a good day…and finally decide that, no, I'm not really over Laura, so forget it, I'm just going to have to tell Allison I'm not interested.

Well, next time I see her, she's dating Steve Chevalia. Well, admittedly, I found her needing to think about something she had been pursuing quite intently for a while now uncharacteristic of her and something she made up to have an excuse to drop the previous. Steve seems to confirm this. "Great, another Lilly," I think to myself. Well, fine, I'm not really bothered, considering I didn't want it to go anywhere and I was kinda being obnoxious beforehand by not really giving a response and so I find it to basically be fair. Whatever was actually going on during those odd times then (because it paints us both in a semi-poor light and I hardly consider my memory to be able to accurately portray her), I chalk it up to being young on both our sides.

Anyway, fast forward, Laura and I date for 2 months and break up. I can't remember during the spans of when Allison and I first started kinda getting involved to when we finally went out what the order or things we did together were. So just assume that the following events happened at some point during this entire time. I hate that I can't remember, because it deprives us of the perspective of time and my own opinions and thoughts during the moments. But oh well. During this time spans, we had a habit of going to the practice rooms. Despite the reputation these had gotten by now, all we did was talk. I'd often play some variation of a minor cord for her, since she enjoyed that. She was always emotionally upset during these times. It was mostly melancholy. And she just shed so much for me during these times, letting me in and know things that, with anyone else, I would expect a much longer time to get there. Naturally, for the sake of her own privacy, none of what happened there gets repeated. But we did get closer during that time. At some point a little later, we started talking over FB messages. She was often grounded, though her iPhone wasn't taken away, so we were able to talk through that. I'm going to have to assume that this was after Laura and I broke up.

So. Now we finally get to about the time when the two of us go out. I (think I) am over Laura and Allison is a multilayered and interesting person. Sure, she'd require work, as far as a relationship works, because she's not simplistic but shouldn't I do something because it's worth it, not because it's easy? And it shouldn't be thought I just jumped into this. I talked to one of her exes about it and really started thinking critically about the idea.

Finally, I decide, yeah, let's do it.

And, again, by any reasonable measuring, this should have been a fine relationship. Allison is right down my alley as far as people I'd be interested in. She's smart, thinks outside of the box, quirky in her own ways, deceptively average, kinda clingy and definitely passionate, willing to question things, etc. etc. Oh, and she had a love for music. Um, yes please.

And, more than anything, she was in certain ways still developing. Which makes sense, considering she was a Sophomore in high school at the time. But it's significant because I always seem drawn to those who are independent enough to stand on their own and can actually teach me (I always need people who are willing enough to push me or make the first move - but, still need me in some way and end up not being overbearing). But they're still learning, they're still figuring shit out. They still need me. It's a difficult balance to find, let me assure you.

So, the first three days? Downright fantastic. The first day alone was perfect. I'm happier than I've been in a while.

It all was actually kinda weird. I remember the first day of us going out, everyone I saw was all, "You're going out with Allison!!!1!1!ONEONE". The second half of the day I saw all the friends who where, "You're going out with Allison…? Ew…" Admittedly, she had a reputation, though I didn't care. Some of the things said was that she was stupid (which is the dumbest thing you could possibly ever say about her), that she was a slut, or just some really stupid shit (she's obnoxious, whine whine whine). Part of what just made her astounding was what was said about her, how much of that was in any sense true, and then how she responded to it all. I'm partially saying empty phrases, for you had to have known her to understand what I'm getting at, but the way that she handled herself, and when taken in consideration with what was said about her, was just powerful. Now, I'm talking from a somewhat keyhole view. While I did get to know her in a quicker amount of time than would have happened with most other people, it certainly wasn't everything and my view may be skewed. But she had one Hell of a personality and personage.

And then…something happened. And I italicize happened because that's just it. The emphasis isn't on some outside thing - because I don't know what changed. It's the fact that it occurred, not what caused it. Because, as I said at the start of this – I don't know.

And it irritates me to this day. Let's go over it.

Well, maybe it would have been wise not to start dating Allison 2 weeks after breaking up with Laura for the second time?
     True, however, I didn't even realize that until Laura mentioned it. In fact, I hadn't paid any attention to the amount of time that passed at all (which is why I take special care to check how much time passes after a break up these days; it still surprises me how quickly I think time has passed after those, though it actually hasn't). And, going off of that still, you could argue I rushed it without thinking about it but I didn't. I talked to one of her exes, I thought about it. It wasn't a rash decision. I rarely make those, I'm so damn hesitant all the time.

Okay then, maybe instead of making out all the time with her, you should have spent more time focusing on her.
     Once again, a good point - but I didn't think of that then. It's true, I'm far more turned on by personality than anything else. But I didn't realize that most of our time spent together didn't really focus on who we were and more on the usual mores of dating (holding hands, cuddling, making out - lots of making out). It's something to learn and something I should have done, but not something I intentionally avoided.

And, of course, why did I choose to not break it off as soon as I realized something was wrong but chose not to drag it out even longer then? Two weeks is a pretty short amount of time to date anyone, in any circumstance. Not to mention that most of Allison's previous relationships were only 2 weeks as well.
     To be honest, I didn't break it off after 3 days because that felt absolutely insulting. And like I was just giving up. I thought it was bad enough I wanted to break up with her, why would I add the insult of only 3 days of time? Okay, then, since I seemed so dearly concerned with not insulting her by a short break up, why 2 weeks? That's still short. Well, my own experience with break up, really. I've been in the situation where you're in a relationship that you actually care about. You want it to work, damn it. But the other person doesn't quite feel the same way. And either they just don't care about putting effort into the relationship or they don't want it to continue but don't want to break up with you because they're afraid of the consequences. But of course, you don't know this when you're going out with them. You usually have a hunch, but you know everything for certain after the break up. So you get dragged along with all the emotions and feelings that go along with that experience until the break up finally happens. Now, if you're in the position of wanting to break up, you usually realize this about a month in at the shortest. Alright, now you know - break up with them and don't drag them along. It becomes a bit more complicated when you've only dated them for 3 days. Maybe I should have done something else. Maybe I shouldn't've waited. Maybe I should have. Maybe I should have just let her know what was going on. But, while I was already completely confused by a situation that I didn't understand and simultaneously worried about how it would effect her, I made the choice I did with the best judgement I could muster.

And I'll never forget the look on her face when I finally did it. I was uncomfortable all over, of course. And so, as I saw her that morning, I pulled her to the side and said, "I have to talk with you." In this almost comic fashion, she responds in an overly played up, "Oh? Are you going to break my heart?" And this should sound almost childish, right? But no. The sugarcoated cheerfulness of it, the sound of it almost ringing of that "innocent" femininity that's been fetishized to such an extreme makes it all the more mocking, in its own way. Like, "Really? You're going to do this to me?" Of course, I respond yes. I don't remember if we said anything after that. All I remember is after she says she'll see me later, she turns - and at that moment slips up. After acting happy this entire time, her facial expression is bitter, it's angry; it's restrained. It was just a second. Just a glance as she was turning away and her face said everything. And all I could think to myself was, "Scumbag…"

So I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't know why it didn't work. Fittingly, I kinda got it all kicked into my face afterwards. During the summer, me and her kept up communication. I can't remember if we did during the time between break up and the summer, but I know we definitely conversed during the summer. And like Hell we did.

I was just discovering the amazing-ness of sleeping in, which resulted in me not being capable of falling asleep until 5 in the morning. Allison did not aid this by talking to me. So we just talked, for hours on end, for a full month (like, everyday). About everything. And I will probably never have anything like this again. It was normal conversations to questioning why we do things and why people think what they do. From the concrete to the abstract. Absolutely fantastic.

Heh, and, basically, it was like, "Oh, this is what I gave up…?" Again, fitting, appropriate, and just. Sometimes life actually fits those descriptions.

I suppose what irritates me more than anything is - she trusted me. She let me in, she put trust in me. You know, I wasn't just some new boyfriend or something, I was one in a long line of boyfriends. I should have been different. Instead, I ended up just being like some of the others. Which is pathetic and so much less than what she deserved.

Despite only dating her for 2 weeks, I rank Allison easily among those exes of mine which have actually left some discernible mark of change on me. Fact is, I'm learning that I easily get bored with people (I mean in general, not in terms of dating). It's not that typically they're stunted (at least, not those I know; the main populace, that's debatable). It's just that so often they're willing to settle, to just be like everything else or just accept what they're told. They're interesting enough people, capable of commanding logic and reason in an acceptable enough fashion. But they don't bother to go beyond. They're content to just settle.

I can't say Allison is one of the few people I respect. Because there's a lot of people I respect, for various reasons. But with Allison (with the girl I knew then, at minimum, if this is not true now, though I'd be surprised if it wasn't), I continue to be amazed by just, fundamentally, who she is. I don't know if I could properly communicate this concept to you.

But again, I repeat, she deserved far more than she received from me. Any person has a right to better treatment than that, I think.

I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing about this now, about 4 years after the fact. But I suppose it's because there actually isn't anywhere I've really made any note of it, other than in passing to other people. Plus, it seems out of place for me never to mention it. And I don't talk things out enough and tend to keep them inside all the time.

In any case, back during the beginning of Sophomore year of high school, I dated a certain Lilly (as some will remember). That was...an interesting experience, in a multitude of ways.

It was one of those moments (that continue to just confuse me) where I meet a girl, and she immediately pursues me after the first few seconds with absolute abandon. Actually, up until Allison, these instances had the accurate and logical result of the girl realizing she made a big mistake and getting the Hell out thereafter.

In any case, for a short background update, I can tell Lilly is hitting on me. But I'm still trying to end getting into a relationship again with girlfriend number 3 (Rachel Bird) before getting into any other relationship. That and I was probably shy explains my non-reactions. However, eventually Lilly gets fed up and exclaims, "You realize I've been flirting with you, right?!" I tell her yes, and roughly try to explain my non-reaction. She, I think, misunderstands. Some kind of really amusing (in retrospect) petty fight results due to this. Eventually we both get back on the same page and decide to go out.

Of course, the only warning I really get about this adventure I'm about to embark on is from a just budding friendship with Victoria Mendez in the form of a cryptic remark of, "I love Lilly, but that girl just doesn't think sometimes." (at least, to the best of my memory, I think that's she said).

Well, Lilly's means of getting my attention to begin with may be telling of her means of communication back then - in other words, she'll have a distinct idea of what she wanted you to do and she'll hint at it plenty but she expects you to get it and just act on it. Of course, if you do the wrong thing, she wasn't entirely too pleased anyway.

Those who know me can see the problem already. While I probably wasn't nearly as shy and hesitant then as I became, for a girl who seemed to want to move quickly and would have loved plenty just spending hours necking, I was not the right type by any sense.

Granted, I'll be the first to admit, I was a rather awful boyfriend, as far as things go. Consistently hesitant and utterly new to this, it...was painfully awkward.

The only good moment I can think of was a moment when (I believe) Val noticed her and realized that she had thrown a pencil down from the second floor near the band room and it had hit him on the first floor. After she apologized, he said, "Hug?" to which I responded, "Uh, no..." and pulled her in towards me. Otherwise, just painfully awkward moments of expectations and failure of those expectations.

Alright, so I wasn't the most socially competent boyfriend ever. Just break up with me and it's over, right? No, not quite. First Lilly decides to make out with Max Vistitsky while dating me (something he still continues to apologize for, though I hardly hold any form of grudge towards him over it). Then, because this is the mindset Lilly thought in back then, she decides she wants to break up with me. But, of course, because Lilly has these expectations and is unwilling to simply state them, she opts for making the relationship as awful as possible in order to get me to break up with her. So, she ignores me when I'm there. Avoids me a few times. Spends a time going on about how hot some guys in a Manga are with Miriam while I'm sitting there. Maybe other stuff, but I can't remember.

Well, because I can be stubborn at times, I decide I'm not going to break up with her because, if she wants wants it so badly, she ought to be the one to do it. After about a week, she finally does it (the cliché trappings of "You're a really great guy, but" and all).

The amusing aspect was the Duxlers coming up to me before it actually happened (though at this point I knew it was coming) and going, "We're really sorry Jon" only to realize afterwards they're a little early (this is why I love those two; heh, no, that wasn't even a bit of sarcasm). And then finding out that a week before this she had started dating some 19-year-old online who's in Australia.

Significance of it all? Well, it pretty much laid the path of my "dating abilities" for the future. Basically, it set in place my complete hesitation when it would come to dating in the future, the worrying that would essentially make something as simple as taking a person's hand pretty much legitimately impossible, etc.

Now, I do want to be clear, I'm not in any way saying that this is the Lilly now. The two of us don't exactly hold long-drawn conversations, etc. these days and it's obviously been a while since 4 years ago. However, I am stating things as they were then.

In the grand scheme of things, it does have a relevance.

Me in a nutshell
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There was one time I was talking with my mother and she was listing off which girls of certain races (in some instances, religions) she would love if I went out with (because this is the type of stuff she does). Either myself or my brother asked about if I went out with Muslim girl. My mother's response was, "No, never. Those people are crazy."

My brother and I are confused.

Actually, to this day, I'm still confused. Now, I know my mother is racist. On multiple accounts, actually. However, while she will wax eloquently often enough on certain fortunate enough souls, usually follows of Islam (or, in her vast understanding, the entirety of the Middle East) are not targets.

Also, I know my mother is capable of decent rational thought. She can exercise that, I swear. Which is why my brain is literally unable to compute this situation. I mean - it just does not logically make sense. As a rational and thinking animal...how do you possibly come up with this? Surely you can't possibly think that a few extremists constitutes a full people, right?? And, further, if I were dating a Muslim, they'd probably be raised in America, right (if you can't get over the concept of the entire Middle East does not equal people of insanity)??

And, yes, I understand that some people don't actually constantly apply reason and logic to their daily actions and thinking and their actions cannot be expected to make sense - but, but - I do. And I cannot understand how you can honestly believe that they're "crazy" without your brain imploding. Yes, illogical thought does that!
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     "You stopped me because you were so empty, like a cavern impeding in upon itself, and you were so stark a testament of the depth that life was willing to go."
     She looked up at me, then quickly back at her right hand, using the left to push her glasses back up her nose.
     "But shouldn't I be happy?"
     I laughed. "Yes. The greatest part is healing. I just want to be there, though - from the beginning. I want to see you at your most breathtaking and awing."
---
We, as a society, attach such significance to doing what's right and being an upstanding person. Which, to an extent, I find kinda funny. Because we only do it because so many people just never bother.

Despite all the temptation, humans remain flexible and completely controllable creatures. The most fascinating thing about being human is that once you gain awareness of yourself, you can do just about anything with yourself.

Doing what's right doesn't take much. It might take practice (many years of perfecting), but doing the right thing just once takes no effort but deciding to do it.

The change starts with you, and only you can do it.
---
Got back from the Translating Identities Conference 2 days ago, a conference specifically for Trans issues. It was rather amazing, though I'm drained.

And, in a bit of a related fashion, a girl in a formal suit is to die for.
---
The crazed pacing
With the racing placement
Of a pulsing amazement
That this time may hold attainment
Is a rare occasion
When you've forsaken placin'
Yourself in the line of venture
Yet the stubs are entered
You deftly laugh despite the uncertain pressure
Yet know indefinitely that any quip she mentions
Will attain such frank attention
Your wish for a current pension
Is suspended - ended?
Well, at least for this present session
Pretention suspended
Too nervous anyway for the mask to question
Every aspect of this willed convention
Still concerned that initial intentions
Will change in less time than the last impression
The seats filled empty 'cept the last couple to enter
Your eyes are forward, but your mind is centered
The entire flick upon whether
You should take her hand or wait your measure
You leave the way you entered
Hold the door for her, yet in the car still feel the stressors
Now your hands are shaking
Your mind is racing
To say some bit of conversation
Now her house you're facing
Walk the walkway, bracing
In the end - you're wondering what's been through her mind already

I thought I understood rhyme; Rakim laughs at me.
---
I can understand if you dislike school, but if you're still asking what's the point by around my age, I'm going to start worrying about you (in a non-loving manner). I can understand if you might question people's assumptions on its necessity for you to do well in life, I can understand if you question how they teach it or the system or what they focus too much on and not enough on, etc. but if you honestly don't think there isn't a merit to much of what they teach you...? History is important - if I need to invoke the cliché old saying or have to actually explain why this is so to you, I've lost all respect for you (it's harsh and I'm almost always never firm one way or the other - that should tell you something).
---
I think that wanting - no, needing - to create art and being unable to do so in at least an adequate fashion is more cruel a suffering than 19 (going on 20) years of depression.
---
     Jonathan looked out the window of the moving bus, avoiding focusing on the kids in his background. He'd let Kaz handle that.
     It seemed that's what Kaz had always been better that. Not that he'd stoop to their level, consider himself an equal amongst those dwarf demons. Jonathan wouldn't have been able to tolerate him otherwise. Rather, Kaz knew how to deal with it all, the crushing weight of the raining children this world seemed intent on pouring out. He might be a fan of contraception just for this reason, but his liberal ideals kept him from supporting this possible cure.
     No matter what, Jonathan would probably always respect Kaz for that.
     He watched the local elementary school rise over the hill they were driving up. Jonathan stumbled (while standing in place), completely shocked.
     "Kaz! What are you doing?" he shouted, turning towards his partner. "We stole this bus from that school! We're gonna get caught!"
     Kaz didn't look in his direction for a moment, his eyes intently upon the road. "Relax," he told Jonathan, his voice fixed and transposed.
     Despite this, Jonathan looked like he was about to tear out his hair (his lifelong commitment to growing his beard, however, may have caused him to only rip the hair from the scalp).
     His eyes still fixed on the road, Kaz sighed at his partner's rigid frame. "I checked Mapquest before I stole this. We ought to go back this way to get there. We'll be fine. We're in a bus. No one can stop us now."
     Jonathan's arms slumped. He went to the front seat that didn't have a cretin sitting in it and leaned his head against the window. Someone had stuck their gum into a wedge in the window, another had drawn with a permanent marker on the metal below the window frame. Jonathan shook his head, bitter at the waste of opportunity they were given.
     He breathed heavily, fogging up the window. Kaz was right (as he always was). He took comfort in the murky white he had made the window, a heterogenous mix.

     The precise cleanliness of it was what made it off putting. They said it was so that you wouldn't get sick. The instruments. They'd clean the instruments. Syringes, the trays. He wouldn't be surprised to learn they wiped the pills clean with a cloth, each one individually.
     It's irritating. Dear God - it...is...irritating. That damn squeaking. He'd ask them to stop and they just keep doing it. Oh, it's not that bad - like Hell if you know if it's that bad! It's 'cause they polish those damn floors all the time, always mopping, always waxing. The drone of monotonous squeaking, all day - by the nurses and the doctors. And, if you spend enough time in the place, they convince the patients they should wear their damn rubber shoes as well; and then they squeak.
     The glass was shiny, consistently clear and without smudge. They held that needle over him just to make him squirm, he was sure. "It's for your health." Yeah right.
     He'd sit there at night, unceasingly searching the ceiling for dirt, a cobweb maybe - anything. He had found some, once. In a corner, somewhere.
     It was supposed to kill germs. It was mandatory. "I don't want it!" They tied him down. There wasn't going to be a choice.
     Ohh, God, did it feel so good. He had rubbed it all over him. In a corner, tucked away. Jimmy had asked what he had, had asked, had asked. Full moon, he remembered. Shining so bright. By the pale moonlight he took it out from under the pillow where had hidden it. So refreshing, so nice. Mold, beautiful mold, all over.
     The door had busted open so loud. But he didn't notice. No, not until they grabbed him, forced him down. He tried to eat it, embody it. He'd be different than all of them; he'd have mold in his belly.
     He winced as the needle broke the skin. Bye-bye germs.

If you want a rather precise and exact reason why I hate pop music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M11SvDtPBhA.

Also...this is why I love my friends:

Kristina has added this Bumper Sticker!

Yesterday at 6:08pm via Bumper Sticker

Breann Lee Enno likes this.

 

View all 4 comments

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

WHAT IS THIS ABOMINATION?!?!?!?!?
about an hour ago

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

This means *war* MS. KITTELSON!

about an hour ago

Kristina Rae Kittelson

Oh, Schmelly.
Bring. It. On. :]

about an hour ago

 

 

 

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling: A flute player and a fiddle player were standing on a sinking ship. "Help!" cried the fiddle player, "I can't swim!"//"Don't worry," said the flute player, "just fake it."

55 minutes ago · Comment · Like / Unlike

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

What does a clarinet and a lawsuit have in common?
Everyone is relieved when the case is closed. :]

52 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

What's the definition of a minor second?

Two floutists playing in unison.

49 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

How do you know when a clarinet player is at your house?
They don't know where to enter or what key to use.

47 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

How many floutists does it take to change a lightbulb?

Six -- One to get the chair to stand on, one to stand on the chair and actually screw it in, one to pull the chair out from under her, and three more to complain about how much better they could have done it.

46 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

ACTUALLY, it only takes one flute player to screw in a lightbulb.
She sits on her throne and the world rotates around her. ;]

What is the difference between a clarinet and an onion?
Nobody cries when you chop a clarinet into pieces.

[WE ARE NOT SERIOUSLY SPENDING OUR TUESDAY AFTERNOON DOING THIS. xDD]

44 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jackie Norwell

i don't get it...

43 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

[I haven't spent any day for the past year doing something this worthwhile]

What is perfect pitch on a flute?

When it misses the rim of the toilet as you throw it in.

43 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

[...And this is worthwhile. xD You're fighting a losing battle, Schmelly. ;D]

How do you stop a flute from being stolen?
You put it in a clarinet case.

41 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

[psh...nonsense; we know the superior instrument here]

What's do you call a Flute at attention?

Gay. God knows, it certainly isn't *straight*.

39 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

[OOH NO YOU DIDN'T. D<]

How do you know a clarinetist is playing loud?
You can ALMOST hear them.

37 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

[You can hear us just fine!]

Where do flutists do all their practicing?

When the director works with the trumpets (not that they don't spend 90 percent of that time talking).

33 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

[Yeah, with a microphone and hearing aides. Sometimes.]

Is there any difference between the sound of a clarinet and the cat in heat?
Yes, if the cat's in good health.

30 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

Did you hear about the flautist who was so out of tune her section noticed?

Me either.

28 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

What do you need when the clarinetists are up to their necks in concrete?
More concrete.

26 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

How many flute players does it take to change a light bulb?

Just one, but she'll have to twist it back and forth for an hour to make sure she gets it just right.

24 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

How many clarinetists does it take to change a lightbulb?

One, but he'll spend an hour looking through the box for JUST the right lightbulb.

22 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Michael Connors

Because I'm impartial, but can't stay out of a band debate:

 

How do you know when a clarinetist has died?

The conductor moves them back a chair...

 

What do you call a good flute section?

Impossible

19 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

[touché]

Why don't most wind symphony pieces have tempo changes in them?

There are already plenty of ritard.s in the flutes.

18 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

Mike, we're closer kin than you are to the Flutes; keep that in your conscience.

16 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

What is a gentleman?
Someone who knows how to play the clarinet, but doesn't.

Now... I'd love to keep doing this, but I have to do my homework and eat dinner... before stadium rehearsal tonight. DDDx
Schmelly, why are we such band geeks?

15 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Michael Connors

yeah, I'm not really impartial...so

What's the difference between a flutist and a seamstress?

A seamstress tucks the frills.
(switch the "t" and "f" if you don't get it...)

15 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

Because we're the definition of amazing and Band culture is total win?

Honestly, there is no family quite like a band is.

13 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

xDD You are quite right, Schmelly.

Waitwait. One more.

If lost in the woods, who do you ask for directions, an in-tune sax player, an out-of-tune sax player, or Santa Claus?
The out-of-tune sax player. The other two indicate that you're hallucinating.

OKAY. OFF TO DO MY HOMEWORK NOWWW. <333

12 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Michael Connors

Replace sax with flutes for the truth...
and what other family could be as ... "special" as a band family?

But I wouldn't trade it for anything!

11 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

absolutely. It never ends to amuse me that despite our little in-family bickering, it's only because we're the three prominant leaders of the Woodwind faction - and we always know we'll stick together when it comes to the Brass.

8 minutes ago · Delete

As November 22ᵑᵈ of this year steadily creeps closer, I have to remind myself that I'll no longer be a teenager. And, while I understand there's a level of ridiculous to this thought, I can't help but feel like Harvey Milk in that I'll be 20 years and I haven't done a thing.

Part of this comes from the school of thought I originate from. Probably unfortunately, my childhood was marked by trying to avoid "thought corruption" by my elders and keeping as far from suicide as my depression-riddled body was able - and trying to keep all others I knew from this as well.

In a quantity and consistency that's really rather frightening, most of everyone my age I knew, regardless of place of residency, had parents which weren't exactly healthy for their wellbeing. And, to the well-rounded extent that I'm leaning towards thinking it was a generational thing that we all shared, issues like depression, parental abuse, drug-use to cope with these issues, self-injury, and suicide ended up being recurrent trends.

Enough so that I've continually tried to make this a rallying point for us. Because we all seemed to've experienced it in some fashion, our goals and beliefs would end up being similar by having to form around these issues.

I'm continually inspired by and feel kin to the radical and progressive movements - while, in some ways, radically different. I, admittedly, am rather critical of the radical movements of the 60s/70s. Plus, I take quite to heart the Gandhi saying, "Be the change you want to see in the world." I might not be able to lead large protest movements or marches, yet I can control my day to day actions. It amazes me how badly my beard seems to just flat out bother people (something which ought to make them question why, yet I doubt they will); sure, no one will probably ever agree with my opinions on our physical being - but that doesn't mean I'm going to alter how I react and view it. This, to me, is a form of radicalism.

And yet...it all feels so minimal in the end.

By God, what have I done? There's tons of kids still being abused out there, still viewing suicide as a primary option and still in need of help. Those who I've actually persuaded away from suicide probably could've gone through those multiple times with me not there and would still be alive today. And too many of those I've continually helped all these years seem more content to repeat their mistakes than make any actual corrections (unfortunately, I couldn't have been their parents to begin with to make sure they got the proper, healthy raising they deserved).

And, more than anything, they've chosen to remain separated, living out their own lives as best they can instead. Which, honestly, I can't blame them for. I've resided to apathy far more than I'd like to admit in my own life. At the end of it all, just surviving should be enough to brag about.

And yet...fuck, I want revolution, damn it. I want change, I want groups aligning for a common cause and purpose. Or, if not that, choosing those small things we can do everyday that run counter to societal expectations (http://thirst2.xanga.com/701294403/item/) and more people doing it. I would love to have a bunch of writers get apartments together or next to each other to discuss fiction and literature in the same fashion of thought as the Beatniks or the Inklings (Kaz and Kari, I have you closest to mind there). Or simply having hour long discussions on a regular basis with people about the little of things dealing with philosophy, morality, the state of society and life, etc. etc. etc. (that I did this with Allison nearly every day of 2 summers ago only continues to amaze me the more and more it dawns on me - a feat like that is not likely to happen again with a person).

Yet I'm left with this feeling in my stomach that we just drift through each day. We don't expand our thinking, dream forward, and connect with each other (locally or on a grander scale) - we just try to survive. Which, again, I can hardly grudge anyone for. As a child of depression, I can hardly spurn so noble a goal (does it twist anyone else's guts at the truth of that statement?) in contempt at anyone. Feeling normal is too difficult a task to call it just, really (I actually should do another post on that subject alone sometime).

And yet...I hate to call it apathy, but it gives me that feeling. I feel like even I can call myself guilty of not doing any of the above (beyond myself) - or certainly, at least, not propagating the above beyond myself.

I mean, there are ideas and ideals that should be sprung into the world for testing, challenging, and ironing out - yet I feel that, were I to pass now, anything I've thought out and created, as far as thought goes, would not be remembered beyond those who were close to me, nor necessarily well except by a small, small group. They would have little influence, at all. There are people out there who could use help, structuring, getting on their feet to grow on their own as a result of poor raising (for a variety of reasons) and yet I feel nothing changes, or I can't reach others (then again, who knows what difference it might make). I mean, remove me from the stretch of time, and does the terrain of people's lives change all that much (and I mean would where they are now be all that much different; not by the usual changes in the facts of a person life that is bound to happen when you remove a person they knew from their lives; and I don't mean would they miss me - if you removed me, would they be happier, sadder (because life is worse), dead, sick, etc. etc. etc.)?

I'm reaching 20 years old and I feel I've done so damn little with my life.

And with a rate like that, I don't see much changing, or able to change, in the future.