Responding with silence has become a norm within the past year; it's not one I like very much. Part of it is simply the inevitable result of living with disability. Much like, by my Senior year of college, showering on the weekdays all but ceased. As I said – to basically similar effect – somewhere else on this Xanga, it's not pretty but I'm functional. I have that much.

It's that reason that is the operative at play in cases like Margaret and Allan. In instances like with my dad and mom, it's far (far) more my complicated history with authority.

I have little doubt that the root of it goes back to the fact that I grew up in a controlling household. If my incessant attention to irrelevant details, that are greater in value at their whole, is any clue, it was the constant denial of making little choices as to what to wear or what I could keep in my room (or even how I wanted to order and organize my room) that, if not the basis of this issue, have some part in it. Sure, part of the issue at stake in those previously listed denials is also the refutation of my choice in an identity (something that always seemed, to me, to have been developed at a young age) but it's also that basic fact that "refutation" and "denial" are used in these sentences.

I was refused choice; in a sense (metaphorically), I could not freely move. Double this with my depression (the casual choice of the abled to climb the stairs is far more greatly complicated for those resigned to a wheelchair) and you may see a pattern.

I remember being strikingly affected when, while visiting a museum, one of the guards interrupted my thoughts as I was observing a painting: "Excuse me, sir? I don't mean to interrupt you, but we ask that patrons don't get to close to the artwork or point near them to avoid getting oil on the works." I feel – if my memory is of any reliability – like my issue with people interrupting me because they felt that I hadn't noticed something (walking out in front of something, being in someone's way, etc.) is a trait which formed far more frequently, if not in entirety, after this event though my reaction at the time seems to suggest to me otherwise. Regardless, my (internal) reaction wasn't annoyance and it wasn't indifference.

It was a sort of elation. I immediately told the guard that of course I would do this and thanked him for alerting me. I wanted to help this man.

The crucial point was that he had asked me. Rather than trying to exert control over me, he had offered the control to me.

Now, of course, there has to be limits. You cannot just do as you please in life with others respecting your control and authority. You have to mutually respect everyone else's control and authority. While I may deal with the "Why" of this rule later in this post (or certainly in another post, at the very least, since the functionality of this rule needs to be addressed to make it a valid rule), what I proposed in the previous sentence works when you follow the rule of allowing every person to do entirely as ze wishes up until the point that ze harms someone else. Hence, I would have accepted the guard to have said, "Please do be careful not to touch the artwork. Thank you." I may not have had such a positive reaction but there would have been absolutely no complaint from me. I'm visiting the museum; the artwork is the museum's; they have every right to tell me how to behave around it.

But the reason that I tell this story is that it was this moment that started to make me realize the explanation that can justify – I'll even hazard an absolute guess here – everything about me (I forget if I've mentioned it here but the fact that I came out of an abusing household and most of the people I've known have witnessed abuse can also be used to explain and justify every action, ideology, and way of thinking that make up my identity).

It is that I want control. Even if it's solely for the aim of implementing what I want (which, in almost all cases, is the betterment of others; I mention this because this is often not what we think of when it comes to desiring control. I like power; power is control. That it garners respect is certainly a perk but, at the end of the day, it always comes back to what I want to build and make. And 90% of that deals with the bettering of others).

I've been thinking about mentioning here for a while now that I think the reason that stupidity so vastly and flatly terrifies me is that, when someone is stupid (or is stupid about something), there really is no way to reach zem. Because you can't rationally proceed about the world when basic logical connections break down. While I very rarely am a fan of forced control, I am all for control by helping someone understand a line of reasoning. We often don't think of this as control (e.g. we don't think of it as control for us to accept that gravity is real and choosing not to deny gravity. Yet it is; I can't control someone in a way that can avoid zem making choices that will harm others if zir basic logical processes cannot comprehend gravity).

 

Which brings me back to my central point. Sometimes it's not fair. Allan or Margaret don't deserve to be put off. That's the disability working, reducing our expectations below the logical standard.

But with my parents, I have only ever asked them for one thing, really. Sure, I borrowed the car to go see friends (come college; I'm pretty sure my standard of getting out of the house in high school was far below average for others my age at the time). But that's really about it. I bend very easily; I'm pretty sure I've said it here before but I often don't actually fight back until backed into a corner (notice that the notion of control has been here all this time, even before this post?). So I've made concessions. My mother's controlling. So I let her make me apply to 13 colleges. Not necessarily what I would do; not really a bad thing, either, so I was more willing to do with that proposed idea. However, when it came to applying to Havard, I firmly said, "No." I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to go.

Ever since I ran away, my mother got nicer about certain things. It's interesting to see where her and I actually do have similarity (and the differences in that similarity). It's the play I would have made. I give up some, you give up some. It's the idea behind me bending, as I mentioned in the previous paragraph; I often play the long game: I'd much rather accumulate points to use later than fight out each battle full-on each time (depression partially necessitates this). As I've told my father, I choose my battles. My mother's been particularly lenient about some of her inanities lately; I overheard her a few hours ago telling my dad he should stop being so negative in the way he talks to me (of course, seeing as this is actual foul play rather than something that could truly be seen as a favor (you don't stop stealing from someone as a favor, for anything), this is problematic).

Yet when I said that I didn't think that it was a good idea for me to go to graduate school (something I should probably do a full post on some later time), I was resoundly told that wasn't an acceptable answer (it was said more leniently than that but, like I said, another post).

So when I desire silence from my parents, this is partially to see if I get the choice of being left alone. When I continue silence despite their protests, this is to see if they earn my trust to break that silence (word of advice: incessantly talking and refusing to accept that choice of silence are not ways to reassure that I have control).

Because, I would strongly argue, the only thing I have ever truly asked of them is to be left alone – and, by a lesser extension, the ability to make my own choices and time to formulate my own thoughts (clearly I don't make rushed decisions; I need to think). Interestingly, this is the one thing they have refused to give me.

I'm starting to hate, that there are certain topics most/all my friends fully endorse, yet I oppose (tea and anime are just two).

That sounds like a ridiculous sort of thing to be bothered over; I'm starting to learn, that I assign a startling amount of (perhaps arbitrary) importance to symbolic significance.

I don't do well with trust. I've said for years that I generally operate on a until-you-prove-otherwise sort of system: you get complete trust, until you do something to prove you don't deserve it. That said, I'm guarded; I have a history to speak as to why. I will view you with the highest respect, assume you capable, etc.; I will not, however, tell you anything potentially hurting to me, because, admittedly, I don't know that such information might not come back at me from you. To me, it doesn't compromise this viewpoint of starting with trust in meeting people, because the point of this idea of trust is giving you the chance to earn and establish it; there's no use in coming at someone distrustful, immediately shutting down means of communication. In this, the expectation to build bridges of trust is primed from the outset; it's your choice as to whether to make it dormant. I am friendly while able to still control how much I get hurt; some damage must still be taken in such a system, but it's of my design and control.

I mention this, because there is heavy significance in how I view my friends. Likely a remnant of my judgmental mother, I see them as a representative of me; I'm proud of them (I assume the use of the term "friend" covers the notion that I care about them; it should go without saying).

But, more than anything, I trust them. For different things, as their specialty suits (I often went to Tommy in my Senior year of high school regarding relationships or discussing sexuality; I would not have gone to Tommy regarding my siblings, nor do I think he would have been particularly interested).

As a slight aside, I take seriously art (food is always an art; I still resist seeing anime as anything than a tired genre that repeats itself and is divorced from reality in ways that fail to give me (at the very least) anything of importance). And if anyone I think highly of sticks on a particular issue (particularly for years), I give serious credence to their point. If a multitude of them do it, even more so.

As I said, arbitrary.

"Did you write a birthday card for your mother yet?"

"No"

"Were you planning to?"

"Yes"

"Really? Were you actually?" [aka I am surprised at your capability in remembering to do the task you've had to do since your date of birth despite (I believe) absolutely no evidence of you having forgotten to; i.e. I think you're incompetent]

It astounds me that being silent and hardly responding somehow translates to "I need to talk to you more. If I just keep at it long enough, you'll open up! Like a piñata," for my dad.

I'm sick of being assumed that I'm wrong or that I don't know what I'm doing. When I'm successful, this shouldn't be surprising to you.

I also don't appreciate my opinions about things being pushed aside or being considered invalid. Those are rejections of me, in turn labeling me invalid. Assume I actually know what I'm talking about, or, at the very least, grant me the respect to acknowledge my differing.

 

My brother and I were discussing who was the favorite child for each parent today (despite constant repudiations from our mother). We both mutually agreed that Nathan was her favorite, Natasha second, I last, without question. When it came to my father, we both agreed Natasha was first. Both of us thought we were the least favorite child.

I have no doubt that they love all three of us equally. But it's telling that both of us felt so utterly rejected by his actions as to think we were the least liked. Perhaps it's more we're all equally loved, he just respects Natasha more (though I still kind of want to contend that I'm the least respected: he finds Nathan somewhat selfish and hot-headed, I think (which is humorously ironic given his own anger), but he finds me incompetent. I may be the oldest, but I couldn't do anything on my own (four years of college away from them didn't really have anything trying for me; after all, I can't wake up in the morning for anything, so I must've had someone else help me; and one instance of oversleeping in four years proves the precedence)).

 

I've always insisted that, in most cases, what was intended is more important than the result. However, my parents provide ample example, that the result can outweigh the intention. I just don't know how to justify a good deal of the actions my father partakes in. They so frequently go against any reasonable logical assessment of how to treat fellow humans, that I'd be tempted to guess he were mentally impaired. However, if he were mentally impaired, he'd have an excuse and reason. He's not, which makes him unjustifiable.

When You Say "Slut" or "Whore", I Don't Know What You Mean

 

I've hinted somewhat here and there on this Xanga that I find those who deem it necessary to judge other people's sex life perplexing, slightly hypocritical, but – above all – naïve.

Of course, when I refer to the term whore in the above title, I mean when it is used in the same sense as the word slut, rather than the profession (though I could have a good rant about prostitution, really).

And the largest reason why is simply that what you apparently think a slut is probably is entirely different from what someone else thinks it is. Let me first point out that I do not mean someone who sleeps around with other people's significant others or any other revenge fantasy that you may have. This is often a conflation with the larger, constantly there in every incarnation, factor of a person who has a lot of sex. And that is what I want to address.

With what do I have an issue? Am I apparently an advocate of do-whatever-you-please life aims? Rather, I want to ask, have you ever had sex? Once? Was it just petting, even? Was it after years with a significant other to whom you felt terribly close? Was it one night at a late party?

Regardless of your answer, according to my mother, you are a slut. Why? Because opening your legs once means you have no morals. Not that my mother would tell you this to your face, despite having had premarital sex herself.

You see, when terms like slut or whore are used, I don't understand what a person means. For some, it's sex just one time. For others, it's sex for pleasure. For others, it's casual sex. For others, it's the amount of sex, regardless of whether its meaningful to the person or with committed boyfriends or girlfriends at the time.

And, if you've had sex (regardless of whether it was saving it for that special someone you never married, even if you plan to eventually do so), you've been allowed to make a privileged choice that – at one point in time – would have casted you entirely undesirable on any level by every facet of society.

 

Many fought for your right to decide what sex should mean for you – including whether it might not be the right decision for you. That's your personal choice for yourself, not to cast on others.

 

Note: I wrote this 24 hours ago, but was only able to reach internet to post it until now.

 

Long time readers will remember that I attempted the Überman sleep schedule sometime roughly around last year. After one of my posts, I simply ceased mentioning it, not mentioning whether I failed, decided I didn't like it, or succeeded.

I had intended to give a quick detail, but I was in the middle of my semester at the time. And my temperance has become more and more a slave to tempering my mood these past few years, as I've mentioned before.

I forget if I mentioned it them but, while others tend to feel immense tiredness during the process, I didn't have that problem as much. But I've noticed, as I've played with sleep deprivation more and more these past three years, that I seem to be able to handle myself without sleep shockingly well (even when I anticipate there being a problem). The main problem was the same problem I've always suffered with: not staying up but waking up.

Every so often I'd wind up oversleeping my alarm and, interestingly, wake up three hours later on the dot. Notably, I think such a pattern might fit in with the Everyman-3 schedule, which shocks me since I have skepticism of anything between a siesta sleep schedule and the Überman. Regardless, not only was such oversleeping problematic (I overslept two of my classes during that time), it was reduntantly pointless; overshooting my naps was not going to break me into the Überman, only provide a slightly uncontrollable sleep schedule that didn't yield the same clarity and lack of exhaustion that I could more often achieve on a monophasic sleep schedule (in retrospect, it's interesting to note that one of the reasons I ditched monophasic sleep was that it was, for me, disgustingly bloated and kept me feeling groggy every time I first woke up. The only time I actually seemed coherently energized to my fullest was when nighttime hit, so maybe I didn't actually lose anything during my polyphasic sleeping given that I was tired in both cases and my appetite for 12+ hour naps isn't exactly the definition of control either).

Given this situation, I decided to ditch the schedule given my certainty I would need a partner to even reach a point where I could finally determine if this thing was even possible, considering my inability to wake myself. No one at school was going to sign on to that.

 

Recently, I decided to rescind this decision. Notably, the smart decision would have been to start trying to accomplish this before three (going on two now) weeks until I go back to school. But I suppose it gives some slight comfort to know that jumping into things and discovering what can go wrong along the way is an impulse which hasn't died entirely in me yet.

However, there are other reasons why I need to do this. Once again, the amount of time I'd gain from only getting 3 to 2 hours of sleep per day are unspeakable. Particularly in the advent of upcoming school? I'm pretty certain that I couldn't have gotten done first semester last year had I not been operating on the Überman. It just opened up so much more time.

Which, of course, beats my need for over 12 hours of sleep (something continually set back until the weekend each week as I must wake up for class each day)…only to wake up groggy and, half the time, sore (not to mention the weakening of back muscles).

However, more than anything, my depression needed it. If you've read my xanga from its very beginning, one of the things I've continually lamented is – at times – a seeming slip in control. At first it was emotions and, I think (funny, no?), memory. Recently it's simply been life. For the past 2 months straight, I've been bogged by a consistant depression. As in, it has not lifted. There was no change, alteration, or simple peace for the past two months. It's like hitting a rut and just staying at that low.

Add to that lack of control my sleep schedule (plus the depression at times). I missed Easter Mass simply because I could not get out of bed. Muscles were working fine, but the brain seemed terrified by the very notion. I stayed in bed for 24 hours that day because of a combination of depression, anxiety, and exhaustion. And, of course, these things feed on each other. Stress and depression make you tired. Being incapable of making arrangements with friends makes you bitter, feeding the depression. And, above all, a feeling of lacking control is not something I can tolerate.

I can put up with people, most days. I can put up with everyone disagreeing with me or even the stupidity that humanity (particular en masse) can exhibit. But I need control. Part of why I can stick by what I say, think, and do is because I know backwards and forwards why I do it. I believe in it. I can back it. That's all I need to know. As long as I know I'm in control of what I'm doing and have a grasp on my surroundings, I'm okay. Being thrown into a new environment (college) and reliving just how socially awkward I am and incapable of doing things when uncertain of myself (mark that with being sociable in general) obviously doesn't help this. Adding depression and an inability to get out of bed? That's too much.

These past two months I've been drifting, more so than even I would want to. I've been distant, I've not bothered to instigate meeting up with people, and I've been beyond my usual un-initiating distant that I usually have with people. Sure, I've always maintained that I friend more extroverted and outgoing people because I need people who will remind me to meet up and keep in touch. But I've fallen behind in nearly all correspondences I've even started. I flat out missed meeting up with Allen this summer. I still have a slew of FB catch ups I need to respond to (including catching up with Emily Lin, for fuck's sake!). I've avoided IM to avoid talking to people. I've just been distant, too thoroughly comfortable with isolating myself like this. I have duties, such as working on Williams Catholic and the Moocow band's websites. But no.

As I've said before, I need purpose, and I need direction. For whatever reason, I lack at the moment. Since starting to try to jump into polyphasic sleeping again, I've broken that depression after two months; I have a goal, and I'm actually trying to accomplish it. Part of it too is, again, how my mood is affected. Having less time in a day exacerbates a feeling of being unable to do anything, which worsens my depression, which worsens my ability to do any of of the simple tasks in the paragraph above.

I need all hours of the day. I work in the night, when it's peacefully beautiful, and I can be alone. The morning, again beautiful, lets me rejuvenate. The day is generally dedicated to everyone else's needs (work, club responsibilities, shopping, etc.). Remove one of these and I don't have enough time. And my depression makes doing anything that belongs during a different time of the day grating because, simply, my depression doesn't want to do it (aren't mood swings fun?).

 

As to the drawbacks, I've never quite understood them. Sure, you have 6 half hour naps placed throughout the day. But they're only 30 minutes. I don't drink, as it is, so I don't have to worry about it crashing my drinking. If I was staying up, I can't imagine anyone I would hang out with would really be bothered by it. Further, if you're staying out for, say, 6 hours – you only miss a half hour of it. Plus, you can nap anywhere (if how they describe your reaction to the schedule is correct). And all the other benefits completely sideline this.

Further, I've already said I handle sleep deprivation fine. I already have to stay up to make up all the responsibilities I have to get done usually, so why the Hell not. Lastly, I have depression – living is a health concern. I get more stress than I normally should. Like I've said before on here, I will be shocked if I don't get type II diabetes by age 25. Shocking me in terms of everything I know about how I treat my body already, the doctor has told me the only thing wrong with me is my good cholesterol (it's scarily low) – so why not free up some time to do the exercise I need to fix that? Lastly – I'm young. And clearly my depression is the only one in favor of doing anything slowly, burning out like a candle.

And, like I've said before, death just doesn't scare me. Not that I don't think it's around the corner (everyday I feel like I could grab it and put it in my own hands, actually) – my quarter life crisis should make that one clear. If anything, I feel far older than I know I have any right to feel. I just…don't give a damn; and, really, this is the best choice. I need this.

I've kept oversleeping the first two days. I thought I found a fool-proof method by using headphones so that the alarm would shock me awake, but I would up sleeping through it for an hour and a half past my wake-time this morning at 8 (which probably wasn't any good for my ears, either…). I don't want to give up yet, though. If I can get past the first two, maybe three, days, I think I'll be golden. We'll see.

 

 

Earlier in the summer, I met up with Victoria and Laura. I forget the surrounding discussion but, at some point, Victoria mentions that Michelle and I should happen as a couple. This was, if my memory serves, shortly after Jeff's graduation party, during which Michelle and I wound up shoving cake down each other's clothes, make snide remarks at each other the entire time, and wound up watching the movie Jeff wanted to show us with me sitting on top of her the entire time (at first in an attempt to annoy her, then not bothering to move because apparently the pressure wound up helping some sore muscle). So, admittedly, I can see where she might've gotten the idea.

Regardless, I immediately told her no (I think my exact response might've been cocking my eyebrow and asking, "Why?"). I told her, for one, that I had a strong feeling that Michelle would say no right out the gate. And, even if that wasn't the case, Michelle and I – I think, at least – wouldn't be a good match. If she was also interested, sure, why the Hell not. But there isn't enough incentive for me to go out on that limb as things stood. Neither of us were so let's leave it at that.

Yesterday (alright, two days ago technically), I came across Michelle's OKCupid account. And I still have no idea what the Hell happened. I was amused and messaged her, both of us bantering as usual. And then…I started looking at her differently. And, again, I have no idea why. I don't know what exactly changed at that point from the other 5 years of our friendship, let alone the time between talking to Victoria and now.

So, it seems I've got a crush – which even I can admit is irresponsible and unwise. Why?

First and foremost, as I said before, Michelle and I don't really make matches for each other. While not a comment on it's supposed accuracy, even OKCupid ranks our chances of being a match at only a 67%. Yeah, I know, people don't have to match up on everything to be a fit but – in my case – they tend to have to.

I don't think I'd describe Michelle as a distant person; we've had serious moments in our friendship where we've really connected, though we haven't spent much time at all expanding that (though, admittedly, I realize now that our friendship hasn't been developed in a lot of ways, which is why we tend to stay on the annoying each other waveline most of the time). That said, though, Michelle even says in her profile that there needs to be a fair level of teasing in the relationship (if Larry was any indication, nothing too different that Michelle and I's friendship right now). And she at least says and puts on a higher self-esteem by far than me (though I do have slight reservations on that assessment). While I seem to be drawn to those with at least a somewhat extrovert personality, I like (really, need) someone with a fair dosage of insecurity, in part to balance my own and in part for other reasons I've listed out here in the past. Laura, jess, and Allison are all perfect examples of this.

Because, while clearly I can have an animated personality and my xanga is a perfect example I can be tersely caustic and raise a little Hell, I'm more often…not. I'm an introvert at heart, and I like myself that way. But, more pertinent to the point we're discussing (and as I said before), I'm insecure. I'm hesitant. I'm, all too often, severely emotional. I have a habit of taking care of others and need to be close to people. And – more than anything – if you're looking for someone wholly independent, I'm not. I've got baggage, a good 15 years of it.

Of course, I could be wrong. Our personalities might mesh just fine. But, from my very limited view, it seems to me that what we would want and need out of a relationship would vary too greatly for us to work long term.

There's also the timing of the stupid thing. Two weeks before I go back to school, I remind. While, actually, I might be more willing to do long distance with her while I explicitly didn't go chasing after other people for that very reason, distance was the splitter for her and Larry. While it seems she might've burned out her need to kinda run freely (again, me guessing), I wouldn't want to launch into something as restrictive as long distance can be on her, especially when that's the opposite of what she wanted out of college to begin with.

Then there's also the fact I've had a crush on Margaret since before she went abroad – and I've been waiting for a semester and a summer until she came back. Of course, while to not the same degree as Michelle and for different reasons, I have a suspicion that Margaret and I aren't quite a perfect fit either. But I know too well what fruits come from constant hesitation. Besides, not like anyone else at Williams has caused me to linger for so long.

But, the overall block that makes any other consideration superfluous is that I'm pretty certain that, even if I asked Michelle out, she'd say no.

And, while I don't really have anything to give evidence that Michelle would do this (and, hence, will not bother to contemplate if such is the case), this whole conversation highlights in my mind a trend I've been noticing with just about anyone I've had an interest in or who has thrown a bit of interest towards me since Laura.

It goes along the line of, "You're a really nice guy and very sweet, etc. but…"

not good enough.

There is something which just holds the person back, makes them willing to pass over me. Now, I know I'm not usually in the habit of building myself up, unless it's clearly joking hyperbole. Excluding a few particular traits, I'm usually willing to find fault. That said…I'm not that bad of a guy.

I'm nice and you basically have every guarantee I'm not going to cheat or deliberately hurt you; any person who's known me since Sophomore year of high school knows that one. I've worked for it; I've been very loud and public about the need to make sure others are alright – there's a reason that's how most of my friends describe me, there's a reason people I've met tend to wind up confiding in me more or coming for advice.

I'm patient; I'm understanding. I'm compassionate. Apparently there's a decent contingent of people who even find me funny.

And, no, even I wouldn't call myself the best catch out there. If you want confidence, probably not best to make me your first choice. I'm eternally awkward in oh so many ways. And, sure, you have to put up with my many high principles; I've got my fair share of what people might call odd habits. I don't fit mainstream appeal, sure.

But if you're asking me to shave, or "do something" with my beard, I have to wonder if you're even acknowledging me.

I've always been very loud about my feelings toward physical appearance. I've written on the subject here God knows how many times. I'll run your ear on the subject if you let me. I actively am particular with my language on account of it and am quick to explain it if you ask me a question along its lines. It's kinda my hallmark crusade, other than Queer rights. It's what I've come to be known for, for some people.

So I cannot understand people who continually ask me if I'm going to shave it, or ask over and over it again why it's a big deal. It's like asking a religious person, "Oh, I know this means a lot to you but could you please urinate on your holy text, for me?" This is one of the central tenets of my ideals. Like, it's very fundamental reason for existence is based on how I feel you should treat others – you remove or violate this and you basically stab everything I hold dear. There's no reason for me to give a damn about anyone else. I mean, I usually like to think there is no one out there as bad as my mother but you operate with the fundamental stupidity she seems to possess when you do this. Because she asks if I'm willing to shave, I explain the whole point of it all, then she asks, "Well, how about we just trim it? See, it won't be that much." And then I explain it again, and we repeat this process indefinitely.

How little it is isn't the point.

And her complete inability to use basic logic to take my explanation and understand why I refuse demonstrates her limited intelligence – people give a complete damn about their appearance, everyone. It can't even enter her head otherwise. And, the mainstream and majority of people she meets do as well. So it must be true. Therefore, it doesn't matter what I say. In her mind, the reason I refuse is because of how much hair I'm cutting. Because, from her mindset, this is the only piece that fits.

And that is the brain-dead intelligence you wield when you ask me the same question.

But more importantly, I can't remember if I've discussed point of view on here much. People's inability to see things from other people's point of view is one of my biggest complaints. It would resolve a lot of misunderstandings and hurt feelings, for one. But, two, it doesn't seem like such a difficult ability to me; yet it seems to be.

But I'm fascinated by other's point of view. My obsession with the human personality (and, thus, a person's life experiences) fascinate me. I'm willing to try to understand where someone is coming from. I might not agree with them in the end. But I'm interested. Notice that I've described here a willingness to date a person if they also show interest (admittedly, as Dodi once said, someone liking me can often go a long way in having me like them). I might be hesitant to try it otherwise, but I'd certainly be willing to try it out if they're interested in me.

I'm willing to give it a chance.

It just seems to be that no one is really interested in even bothering to consider what I hold dear and what I find to be amazing. I mean, sure, if it was something like archaeology and no one else found it interesting (not that no one would date me because I like it, because that'd just be stupid of people), I would say, "Fine, fair." And this is not me asking rando number 3 off the street, either. This is, for one example, Monica, someone I've known for years now, someone (of all people) who should know my politics by now. Yet the very most fundamental aspect of me, the one to which – I would argue – you have to understand in order to understand me, comes with an "Well, if…" criteria.

Once again, as if no one quite gives a damn; as if my very principles (and cares) are negotiable and excusable as far as the world is concerned.

I just feel alone.

 

 

J: If I were a fermata, would you hold me? 

    Btw, I'm sensitive and you have a habit for teasing, it seems. Do you think that could feasibly be a problem??

M: With a beard like that, NOTHING is a problem. But I'm going to have to call you ducky. Do you like purple drink?

J: Haha, well, I think ducky is a small concession in comparison to that *last* question. But you're too tempting for me to resist, my belle Juive.

M: There is no way you could handel me, ever. But nice try. I am faster better stronger smarter prettier and I win more. You will never beat me. NEVER, I SAY!

J: Who said anything about beating you?! That's completely a fabricated stereotype about black males in relationships, you must know that!

    However, it seems you're issuing me a challenge. And I can be quite stubborn on principle.

M: You know what, Jawn? Suck. My. Cock.

    While you're at it, order me a pizza and tell me I'm pretty.

J: Oooh, I love it when you talk dirty.

    And have I ever told you how you always just seem to glow? Your graciousness and joyous nature inspires everyone in the room. It's no wonder they hang on your every word. Aphrodite herself would blush deeply red in jealousy of the way your eyes catch the light, or the coaxing passion of your smile. You are radiant, m'dear.

M: Why thank you, vagina face. I love you, too. YOU NEED TO HANG OUT WITH US BEFORE YOU GO BACK TO SCHOOL, YOU ASSHAT D:<

    I miss being mean to you ):

 

I suppose I haven't done a thorough (nor, often enough, coherant) personal entry in a while.

If you want to know a fundamental aspect of me (that, actually, I don't really talk about often), I consider how one acts (all the time) to be the embodiment of their sentiments. In other words, practice what you preach. If you wouldn't say it in front of the person, what in the world makes you think it alright to say it when they're not around? Or, to use a familiar example, – if you're being monogamous and it's not an open relationship – you shouldn't be thinking/fantasizing about other people when dating or married to someone else. I am in no way a supporter of, "You can look, but you can't touch."

And, as I've mentioned on here in probably plentiful heaps, I am not a supporter of physical attractiveness. It's basically wired into us genetically, yes, but – like, for example, choosing to have sex or not – it's still a choice as to what decisions you make surrounding the subject. Simply, such a system (and the way we've made how we react in society to it and the way we talk about it and the way we treat it have truly have made it a system) that excludes others I can never give approval to. I have played with the idea (in part because I've noticed that our actual obsessions about attractiveness tend to be unhealthy and also very narrow, thereby skipping over many aspects that I don't understand why they don't receive more attention – read here for full understanding) of every person pursuing the totality of their own personal tastes in attractiveness (since, – arguably – in a society that treats attractiveness in a healthy and nonjudgmental way, the diversity of everyone's tastes would be wide enough that there couldn't possibly be significant overlap when comparing person to person) since the theory would be that the result is everyone gets covered somewhere in being considered attractive. However, if I'm being honest, everyone wouldn't. That's the entire reason behind my protest to begin with. And, even if everyone wasn't, if there's only someone in Asia who would find someone in North America attractive (let's assume near worst case here) and neither person moves, that person in North America will still overwhelmingly likely die alone.

The fact of the matter is that there will consistently be people who are cheated out of this system because they didn't fit the bill in requirements that they had absolutely no control over – their genetics.

So, knowing all this about me, I'm having dinner with my friend Chelsea and my cousin Dominique earlier today. I forget at what point the conversation changed but I remember Chelsea or Dods asking me if I'll shave.

For those who don't know me in real life, I provide photographic evidence of my hairiness:

I've never shaved. I started growing facial hair around 4th or 5th grade, and I've never dissuaded the little guys. As you might imagine, my beard didn't exactly grow in perfectly. It came in patches (which, looking back, looked pretty damn ridiculous – more so than now – back in the day). Not trimming it means I have over-confidant strands that try to stick out by being longer than the rest.

As you might imagine, I've had people try to convince me to get rid of the food collector. Every time I go back home – guess what my mom and aunt talk about? My friends (as Chelsea and Dodi might have given you clue to)? You bet. People I've just met (though I actually tend to get the affirmative from people I just met more often)? Oh, definitely.

Some people even just downright amuse me (and infuriate me intellectually). Some people, believe it or not, actually get angry at me. Like, visibly frustrated as if they're talking to an ignorant, stubborn individual (forgive my over-self-confidence). I've seen that type of frustration and determination before. It's generally the reaction that my dad gets when I happened to not iron a shirt. "Why have you disobeyed society's rules?!?!" It's the frustration of someone who is doing something simply because they've been told to and don't seem to have the will-power to remotely question it (or, at least, allow others to autonomously deal with the situation in the way they choose and not simply accept the fact that the other person's decision isn't going to effect them anyway). I'm not saying that everyone reacts that way. But some do.

No, most people, I'd say, tell me to shave (or at least trim) out of a sincere desire to see the best for me or because they earnestly believe in the notion of shaving. I don't view them as being intellectually retarded (I am using retarded by its definition, not as a swipe at the mentally disabled/retarded), at the very least.

Now, let me explain why I refuse to shave. As I said at the beginning of this, I feel that all your actions (private and public) should reflect your beliefs. As you might imagine, I take to heart Gandhi's words, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world." So, I partially will not shave because, for that minority out there that literally have their entire world view challenged when they encounter the ferocity of my androgens, they inspire my perilous fight every time they visibly become utterly uncomfortable. I feel it's every living individual's duty to challenge them and better them.

The other reason goes back to my other continuous fight – attractiveness. Apparently, I'd be really attractive if I'd just shaved. I've been so told many times, often in an attempt to convince me to shave (apparently my very public stance about physical attractiveness somehow doesn't invalidate this as an argument point in people's minds). In fact, this was the stressed part in Chelsea and Dods argument. I seem to not "realize the opportunities that are open to [me] at the moment." Apparently there's a very attractive girl that's within my reaches if only I'd just shave (to quote Chelsea, were the girl gay, she'd totally go after her). Also she seems to be intelligent according to the two (a better selling point, in my humble opinion, than the previous one). And, considering that I've been single for the past three years (roughly), what's not to like about this situation? All it would take is a simple shaving. 5 minutes of my time for a badly done job.

However, I refuse to accept or endorse this system. I don't like it. Not one bit. And I don't want to support it. Others may believe in it – fine, they certainly have every right to. But don't make me do so. Because, as I've said, someone gets cut out of this system. And, frankly, that's all I need to know. That's all that governs my life; there's no way you will ever make headway with me if someone else is getting disadvantaged. I'm a humanistic Catholic; I promise you, all further arguments are useless on me if the integrity and respect of each individual is not kept in mind. It honestly gets no more complicated than that.

And if principle isn't enough to sway you, then consider this. You want a companion that will care more about you than just what you look like? Take both Emma and Laura, if you will. Laura hated my beard and Emma tried (though not too hard, nicely enough) to convince me to shave too. Both dated me in spite of the beard anyway. Know what that tells me? Despite my position and my unwillingness to budge on it, they still were invested or interested in me enough to put that aside. Sure, it can be scratchy and, therefore, unpleasant. That's a reasonable argument. However, part of also why I keep it is to weed out where the attention is being placed in my relationships. I could safely shave with either Emma or Laura, were I still dating either, without worrying about such a minimal change being a maker or breaker for the relationship.

Now, honestly, I'm flattered that someone apparently would be willing to consider to date me (tells you how much attention I usually get, don't it?). I was thoroughly amused by Chelsea and Dodi's pleading. But, in the end, I still stand where I've stood in the past. I'm not willing to sell out to this pathetic system or lower my standards just because I'm lonely. If someone can get me an argument, fine. But no one has been able to convince me in the 7 some years I've had these opinions.

And, if you're unable to still get behind the appearance argument, consider this. The beard is not dirty. Hell, I don't have dry skin around my chin, so it's not like there's even dandruff. Basically, the fuss is just being made over unkempt hair. If we apply this to the top of my head and pretended I didn't have a beard, it's the equivalent of someone not wanting to date me just because I don't comb my hair. I can be successful, a good student, kind, considerate, funny, etc. But I don't comb my hair.

Yeah, I really want to date her too.

 

[note: I should mention that this is all under the very tentative knowledge I've been given of the girl. She may not actually be interested in me and it's just my cousin and friend getting all in a twixt and jumping the gun. However, if she is interested in me and simply will not go forward with that due to my beard, I honestly think that's shallow. I don't generally like slinging insults but, if I'm being honest, that's what it boils down to. However, given my overall lack of concrete knowledge here, who knows where things actually stand]

I really need to do another archaic word of the day. It's been far too long since the last, yes?

 

So, as I imparted to Kari yesterday, it kinda pisses me off that there is a such a limited, narrow, and slanted view of what is attractive in terms of how women look (because, if we're being brutally honest, I'm far closer to straight than I am to being gay and so can speak more authoritatively on that end of the spectrum).

Granted, I still find physical attractiveness to be a sorry form of evaluation for people, pointless, and a cruelly unfair system that aids to many of the debilitating aspects of our society that erodes self-confidence and certainty in self-image (hyperbolic? I'd hardly say so).

That being said – I'm not going to convince many (if any) other people to my line of thinking. And, if that's the case (as I said above), it really pisses me off that there's such a limited view of what is considered attractive when it comes to women.

It may just be me, but there is a complete wealth of diversity and multitude of differing body types when it comes to girls (like I said, I'm a poorer judge when it comes to guys, so it's mostly ignorance talking there) that it absolutely amazes me that our society tries so harshly to smash it into some ridiculous notion of a singular mold. I mean...why would you want to limit yourself?

However, as I said above, there's a limited view of what is considered attractive. Obviously, attractive doesn't mean only physically attractive (and by physically attractive I mean traits that can only be derived through genes). There are many personal and cultural choices that a person can make that can make them attractive or not attractive to a person (such as choice of clothes or whether they wear glasses or not).

So, that being said, understand that the rest of this discussion in this post covers on some things which are just a matter of opinion and others of it are just inexcusable pickiness and stupidity. Also understand that while I'll focus on my out-of-what-is-usually-considered-the-norm attractions, I generally fall within the mainstream as well. Which is all fine and dandy. I get why we might flock to certain ideas of attractiveness and generally will agree. It's our seeming inability to venture away from these or even admit that the ones I'm going to list are perfectly applicable candidates as well that bothers me.

 

The first that drives me insane is our society's complete inability to recognize curves. I wanna scream every time some idiot mislabels someone as being "too fat" just because her body actually has a shape which differs from a stalk of celery. Obesity and curves are not the same thing. The latter, you dumbnut, happens to be the natural shape a woman's body takes. Not all, obviously, but please stop telling all to achieve that of a pole.

That being said – fat isn't a bad thing. Being chubby can be equally attractive. Criticize the muffin top, if you will, but chubby girls tend to be more cuddly and are tons more fun to hug.

Also, what's with the Only Huge Boobs Please thing? They get big enough and they start to no longer look human. Alright, alright, I'm being facetious by now; but, seriously, small breasts aren't a bad thing. They are quite the opposite often enough. Diversity, people!

Now, this next pet peeve of mine, admittedly, is mostly a preference thing. I can't honestly chastise people here in good conscience. Obviously some may just honestly disagree with me. But I've never been able to understand the makeup thing. If I wanted to be cocky and snide, I might say it's because I'm a fan of natural beauty and don't understand wanting to cover it up, but that would most clearly be just me being a smartass, and I could easily disassemble such an argument. That said – I still don't understand makeup. In 99.9% of the cases I've seen (and I'm mostly meaning towards the beautifying stuff, anyway (like lipstick, etc.); not movie makeup, for example), the individual looks utterly better just without makeup. But, then again, I've always had what my mother has called pathetically simplistic and boring tastes. A girl with no makeup, hair done up in a simple ponytail (with no other "trimmings"), and wearing jeans and a hoodie is a thousand times more attractive to me than one "dressed up" (say, a dress). Then again, I'm also a fan of adrogynous girls and what others might call "plain looking", for two other vaguely related examples.

I was slightly horrified, admittedly, yesterday when Vikki and Bailey started freaking out over Alys having a figure and going to go shopping with her; I've always found her to be attractive, unrevealing dressing style and all. Yeah, I said it; granted, it partially doesn't matter because this will likely never make it back to Alys and so she won't be able to glare at me like she tends to. But still. Regardless of where the majority lies, those are my tastes. I'm sure there are others out there that agree.

Also, arms with hair on them. Are they really so bad? At first I was kinda indifferent. Now a days, I lean a little more in favor of. It seems like whenever hair and female get put in the same sentence people recoil (I can mentally see my parents doing so right now) – but I don't get it. It can be just as cute or pretty as hair on one's head can be, I think.

I remember last Winter Break my mom asked me if I had seen any girls at college yet that I find attractive. Normally I either ignore her or say something along the lines of, "Why? It's only an illusion anyway." This time, however, I decide I'll humor her. So, I respond, "No, not really. I've kinda been into more masculine women lately." My parents reactions? They gawk and go, "What???" Now, granted, I probably meant more physically feminine women with a masculine gender, but (as I've said here many times now) butch women are pretty fantastic as well. My main point here is that there are, in the mainstream, a lack of women with a more masculine demeanor (either in only their gender or physically or some combination of both). I mean, if we're being totally technical, playing video games is still generally considered a masculine trait (as in it's considered socially acceptable when done by males and often not considered acceptable when done by females), which instantly makes gamer girls technically more masculine than most of their fellow female peers. But clearly most of us wouldn't instinctually label video games as being all that masculine (leastwise, I don't). I mean in areas that are more universally thought of as masculine, there is a lack of females which possess that. The only category (again, I'm talking mainstream, so (for example) the butch/femme lesbian culture doesn't really count, not to mention (to the best of my ignorant knowledge) I believe that culture is slowly fading away) for such a phenomenon is the old tomboy stereotype – and that's pretty limited. How about a girl that wears a lot of "guy" clothes (such as suits, etc.) but isn't all that athletic? However, if we could break stereotypes so easily in people's minds, I'd be a much happier person and quite busy in the world.

 

And I'm sure there are a million others I could think of. I didn't mentioned, for example, braces or glasses in part because our society is moving closer to finding them acceptable on a really mainstream level, even finding them cute. Anyone see Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs? It says something that the fact that the main character's love interest is a nerd, equipped with glasses, can go over our heads because we've become so used to the idea and also – well, she's a nerd! And it's a children movie that did well at the theatres. Think of how this may affect future generations of kids who saw the movie? Granted, I'm not going to assume that all such taunts and aversions to glasses will end because of this movie (my father once told me he would never have dated anyone else with glasses because he was so self-conscience about his own as a kid); but it's progress.

 

I guess the point I'm trying to make is, love your "imperfections" and "blemishes".

You never know who could be admiring them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, and also rail against the stupidity of society. But I guess that's kinda the undercurrent of this entire Xanga, now isn't it?

I was at the park today, swinging on the swings while listening to my iPod (one of my favorite activities). And, well, then a man approached me and told me the park was closed, right as I was really getting over the horrid mood that had drove me there to begin with.

Well, I just couldn't take the answer given to me, now could I?

There's a quaint little park in a subdivision literally bordering the Woodland Intermediate School that literally boarders my subdivision. It said on the sign that the park closes at dusk, but it also said the park is unsupervised, so that's basically an invitation, right?

As I sat there swinging, I was reminded once again why I love the area so damn much. Having spent the past 6 years really getting to know the Stevenson High School area (Buffalo Grove, Libertyville, Lincolnshire, Long Grove, etc.), it's pretty much like a second home to me. My parents and friends can well enough attest (seeing as the places of visit tend to be friends' houses), I spend more than enough of my share time there.

But only recently has that given me pause to rediscover the place I basically grew up. My parents (read: my mother) were not ones to let us out very often. We used to all go on bike rides together but that was when I was young (and, if I'm remembering correctly, I've mentioned that in a recent previous post on here with me saying that I wanted to re-see those places we, as a family, had visited since I hadn't seen them in so long). And, of course, by the time my parents started actually allowing me to step outside the subdivision, I was going out to see friends, all of which lived in the SHS area, which pretty regularly translates to being 30 minutes away from where I live. So, in reality, I was only superficially aware of my surrounding area (what little there is left of Gages Lake outside of my subdivision and Gurnee, seeing as it only takes 5 minutes to get to both Gurnee Mills and Six Flags; we may share the same zip code as Grayslake, but we're a bit different from them).

Now, I've said before on here that I would love to be able to really show and share with you that awe of seeing a completely barren parking lot (part of the reason for the picnic-in-a-parking-lot idea) or just the way it seems like this place just continually spans outward. But that doesn't get at all of it.

The culture here is different. Gurnee is far more urbanized than many suburbs nearer the city (again, namely the SHS area, amongst other places) and the southern, more rural parts of Illinois (most naturally). The type of urbanizing is interesting, too; you've got buses for public transportation, yet a lot of the business and urbanized aspect comes from the commercial aspect of the city. Hit around the Gurnee Mills mall and it's just line upon line of chain restaurants (McDonald's, Taco Bell, Culver's, White Castle, etc.). In fact, I don't think that area exists for any purpose other than a conglomerate of commercial venues.

Yet another aspect of Gurnee's urban nature, though, is the influx of city kids continually coming in, causing a cultural makeup that is very diverse. I remember walking through Gurnee Mills looking for job opportunities and just a wave of the social cliques that were so prevalent back in Middle School for me come waving back. You've got the urbanites, the goths, your run-of-the-mill upper class kids, your rockers/druggies, etc. And in some ways which are totally on a subtle level that is hard to explain, there's a distinct difference that I now remember from back in Middle School. It was kinda this relieving feeling as I can walk with people so familiar with a level of confidence that I just didn't have back then. Instead of being cautious and on-guard, I just felt like, "I'm back home."

But, despite it's urban nature, there's this feeling of flat out openness. The best example I have is, on Milwaukee Avenue (Highway 21) when it intersects with Gages Lake Road, across from the Dominoes, there's this giant office building. It's clearly built to hold tons upon tons of offices within. Looks really nice too. And it resides in a field of tall grass (though the grass looks grain-colored) that stretches for miles alongside that side of highway 21. And there's nothing as far as you can see (while standing directly across from this building) next to the building. Just this random office building, pretty far into this random, stretching field of tall grass.

And, honestly, it really is a bizarre site and almost this WTF moment. I mean, what were they thinking?

When my parents bought our house, it was still in the process of being built. The area is still a very new one. And it seems like, in so many ways, they just got really excited to build. But, since it was new and (yet, for whatever reason) did well and drew many people, it's like they just constructed what people needed. Oh, people need to live somewhere - let's make houses! We could probably get a lot of money around Gurnee Mills - cram it with commercial stores! We could provide for a lot jobs with all the new people coming to live here - build an office building!

So the place literally looks, all over, half constructed. You get things like an office building in the middle of a tall grass field. You get things like giant parking lots for Warren Township High School or some other random school or business building in a place that only adds to the sprawling feeling of the parking lot when it's empty because it's surrounded by grassy fields or there's a forest right beside it - and that's it's surroundings; not houses, not other buildings - fields and forests! It's the weirdest thing ever.

But you know my appreciation for weird things. Plus, this is very much the reason I love cities. I don't understand why, but I absolutely crave manmade living creations (stores, buildings, houses - but not being inside of them). At the same time, I adore the weather/nature. I'd die without it. Every so often I just have to go to a window and breath deeply. And you know how I do about the rain. So, more urban situations are perfect. A friend of mine commented to another friend of hers how she hates New York because it's so crowded and boxed in with a lack of nature (flowers, trees, etc.), unlike Chicago - bingo. Also, think the Evanston area, for another example of what I like.

It's the perfect combination for me. Suburbs are more hit-and-miss in comparison to this. It's hard to explain, but I'm very particular about these surroundings.

So, while the Gurnee and Gages Lake area is by far not a city in the traditional sense, you get those more urban "living constructions" with an overabundance of nature all over the place. It's not the same as a city - it's actually quite a different experience - but it provides the same ingredients.

So what's different is that, when people aren't in that parking lot or that office building is closed for the day - time literally seems to stand still. It's like everyone has abandoned the world and you get that scant moment to really take in and enjoy the stillness, that undisturbed peace and quiet. It's very much along the lines of why I love nature, that moment to just absorb and wrap yourself in the beauty of it all - but it's combining evenly manmade constructions and nature at the same time (think of the parking lot surrounded by forests that I mentioned above). It's astounding. Yet, if you want civilization and human interaction again, just go to Gurnee Mills or Six Flags or come back to the place again when people are working there.

It's the best of both worlds, this crazy area that seems stuck between development and the beginning birth of construction (or no construction at all, if you decide to go to the forest preserve connected to our subdivision).

Now, there's more to me than just this. The SHS area is my home. I know it well and it's very well a part of me (and, considering that most of (like, 80%) my friends hail from there, it's where my family's from). I'm distinguishing Gurnee/Gages Lake in the same way I might point out the differences of the SHS area to brag about it. I mean, to be honest, there's very little, if any, of a nerd identity back in the culture of Gurnee/Gages Lake (at least certainly not a unified one). And I will probably never find so prominant and distinct a gothic community anywhere else as I did at Stevenson.

But I was sitting in that park this night, that just in itself looks half finished (really basic, done in the middle of this open field with just tall grass leading up to the Woodland School and with those exercise bars that I've never understood why they're put in children's parks; it's like the constructor though, "Oh, this'll only take three bars - cheap; let's do it!").

And between the school and this park is this lake, with the reflection of the half moon in the crisp night sky shining on the water. And it just smells like a lake, so beautiful.

And behind me, if I'm facing the lake (and, by extension, the school), is the subdivision, which in itself feels half finished, with streets that go into an intersection and then just end in a deadend, as if the builders were just building with no plan, just until the demand wore out.

And I'm just swinging, listening to my iPod, and watching the cars go past across the lake on Gages Lake Road.

And it's everything that I love, in a moment so peaceful and perfect, that I wish I could show to you how it felt right then during that night sky with the beauty of the forest behind me and the lake to the right of me, with people getting ready for sleep to the left of me in that subdivision and the world going about it's buisness across the lake.

It was so beautiful; I love this town.

My mother in a nutshell: "Tell your mother not to speed because this is Waukegan so there's a ton of cops out looking for Mexicans selling drugs."

 

 

Okay, maybe not a nutshell, but it gives you a good idea of who she is.