I know that one of the first reactions to my current state will be why I didn't try more (I forget if I've written on any of it as of late; I tend to be very careful about what I admit to going on in my head).

An old entry-mate of mine let me know I was invited to a small party a lot of the Jewish kids on campus were going to be having at his dorm. I was very appreciative. This was largely because I hadn't been very close with my entry and it was a direct addressment, something I seem incapable of deriving in simple eye contact and conversation with most people. I appreciated being acknowledged and, because I was very fond of all of my entry regardless of how close we wound up being, that it was by an old entry-mate.

I doubt I'll be going. And the first thing people will point to as to why I find myself so systematically pushed down is that I didn't bother to push back.

What they fail to realize is that I suck at socializing with those I'm not close with; I've mentioned a million times so I'll leave it at that. I also take and analyze everything. I still flinch in public when an embarrassing/bad memory suddenly pops into my head. What might be mild embarrassment for one moment in the past will be assessed over and over until that embarrassment is certain to be remembered quite vividly well.

If I were someone who could act because they didn't care the consequences, there's much I could do. Bad situations would simply be memories, and I'd be confident enough to get enough successful public interactions.

But that is not me. And, while the criticizer could respond that it's only through trying that progress is made, I do not know that my chosen moment of bravery will be successful. Many might not be. Which means a great deal of emotional strain in order to incur only more. At the end, choosing simply not to interact or try to get a person to willingly engage me in conversation might not have a satisfactory goal, but it doesn't inflict inane suffering.

Upon leaving Shabbat dinner, I saw Kim. Happy to see her, I snuck up and gave her a hug, wanting to mask my own loneliness and, if possible, fill it in with my appreciation of her and any others to which I have attachment (getting to spend most of today with WSCers made this a good day).

I find the sentiment of healthiness funny. It means whether in shape, or whether breathing correctly, or if your hair is all there, or if your muscles work well, usually. It is all physical measurement.

Depression is to be continually sick, to never be rid of sickness. Like an STD for which there is no cure, there may be some days it doesn't itch, though it lightly throbs with soreness. And then other days it rears red with inflammation and more discharge than you want anything to do with.

It is your parasite some days, in some ways your friend others. Yet maybe all only because it is always there.

There is a proverb that goes, "And this too shall pass..." I being me, I always took this with more murky a tone than its supposed polar capability. Certainly in the sight of joy, it is a wistful reminder that it shall not stay. But even in hardship, it's said with the tone that implies a sort of acceptance. It shall pass because that is nature and, by nature, it shall come again, so that you shoulder it reveling the pain it inflicts since this is your normalcy and you yearn to feel.

Yet I find this dichotomy interesting in light of a scenario that doesn't even allow its duality.

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 realized today that there's nothing that could make me care about much of anything in the world. I'm so damn used to every path in life that I tend to already know what the end'll be plus a good dose of just general apathy towards everything spurned on by depression. I can't get excited about anything these days anymore and I'm more forcing attachment than having any real affection or emotion for anything. And I'm tiring quickly; 90% of any day is just an internal monitoring of my emotions to stay as close to stable as possible. "No, don't get too excited! You might lose control. Well, now you're just getting depressed; you'll feel like shit if you keep at that. Get interested in something to pull yourself out of the rut." And repeat; it's fun.

The thing I've always struggled with was whether I could have motivation without some sense of a goal. I've said before how most things have to be literally processed in my head rather than instinctively done like for most people. I've always halfway wondered if what had become internalized for me was emotional responses not based on social cues from people or expectations from society but, instead, a clear purpose in my head. If I could make a solid argument as to why I should do something or believe something, I responded fine. But those days I didn't have anything to do (like convince people of an argument or try to stem some sort of social ill (sexualism, sexism, etc.), I've always felt listless. Life itself couldn't make sense to me. It's weird. As if life was supposed to be some sort of puzzle with an answer.

There's a conversation I had once over IM with Laura where we were discussing Dan, to which - at the end - she remarked, "Not that you'd want to talk about this." In response and being nice, I told her, "It's fine." She thanked me and said - as she has multiple times before this - that I was too kind to her.

I laughed and said, "It's my job." She told me she was being serious, to which I immediately responded, "So am I."

There's a reason I seem to inflict trust in those I never thought I made an impact on yet and that all my friends of about 5 years trust me without hesitance. I give. As a habit, as a duty. And I don't ask in return. I almost never complain, I solve my own problems, and I forgive three times over. It's my job. While certainly not everyone (I would say a minority) has taken advantage or just simply taken and then asked for more or just taken off, I'm not surprised that people would. As you all might've garnered by now, I generally don't have a high opinion of the human race (well, in certain areas). I expect people will be crap. The difference is I still give them the benefit of the doubt. And I've known some wonderful people.

So I play watch-guard. I'm there to swoop in and fix the problem if I can. I'm there to calm you down regardless of the shit going on in my life. I'm there even if it takes 6 months or more to make sure you get back on your feet. And I'm there to offer you redemption if you need it, to tell you, "Pick up again and start over anew. No point if you don't do things right the next time."

That's my job amongst my friends and they recognize it. I don't expect any kind of award or to get the happy ending in the end. I talk people together and make sure they actually communicate they want to be together (because they'd be too shy, God knows, otherwise), I help talk out the relationship problems, I help you get over the breakup, I get you the support you need for your addiction, I make sure the wrong people don't find it out, I mend the friendship problems - it's my job. And I'm perfectly fine with that, so long as I have use. So long as I fix something, so long as I'm making a difference.

But I'm losing whatever touch I apparently had; I barely know what to say these days to help. And you're all getting old now. And you're figuring out how to take care of yourselves. Or you're just old enough that you'll survive (and learn your lesson at the end of it). I'm not particularly needed anymore. And I'm readily seeing that I'm becoming a relic. I'm that paper weight in that only moderately-entered room that you're always glad to see on your desk because you've had it so long but, were it to go missing, there'd just be a reminded twinge of sadness every time you passed by.

That's part of it. That apathy that drains the color of everything as well.

I'm not leaving anytime soon, don't worry. We're parasitic creatures, really, particularly with life. We hang on out of instinct and fear and only once we're too damn exhausted do we question letting go. But I think I'll just be floating from now on. I just want stability, damn it. Give me a stable job that I can rely on being there the next day and keep me secure for a terribly modest living that let's me keep to myself a majority of the time (only coming out when called) and I might just keep my sanity. I said at the start of my senior year to grab life by the horns, take any risk, just go and find out the consequences along the way. And I've kept that up as best I could since. But I find the fear that makes me shy has found me again. I just want expectancy again and no changes. I just want to float, without even thinking.

Oh, hey, Freshman/early Sophomore year of high school all over again.

My father stomps down the stairs today and asks, "Are you aggressively looking for a job this summer?"

The implication is simple (as it always is). He has assumed that I am not, that I haven't even bothered. Like always. Because when I usually do respond with the affirmative to something, he responds with a surprised, "Oh." Honestly, I don't understand how some people are completely unaware to body language.

Respect, for me, is huge. How you conduct yourself towards others means a lot to me. I try to be the best person, always, that I can to anyone else I meet. I consider that a duty and an obligation on my part. Ask any of my friends about my character and they'll respond positively (or, at least, I would hope that they do; I certainly aim for it).

Insult me, belittle me, I'll ignore you. I'll even probably let it slide the first couple of times. But I will not repeatedly tolerate such abuse. I don't want it, I don't need it. But, more than anything - out of the pathetically minuscule self-confidence that I have -, I have worked for my respect. Every day, every hour, every minute. I am patient, I am consistently willing to listen to others and give aid when applicable, and I consider my conduct in respect to others.

I will not be deprecated.

So, when you ask me, "Are you aggressively looking for a job this summer?" while every bit of your body language, down to your vocal inflections, tell me that - as far as you're concerned - you know the answer to this question, when you go on to tell me that I "need a little more pushing and guidance than others" to remind me that everything I do - no matter how badly I try - just doesn't live up to your expectations, do not expect me to respond.

I don't particularly appreciate being implicitly told that your love is conditional on whether I choose to tuck in a shirt or put on a belt, or whether I happen to do poorly in school despite putting in my best effort.

Because, in spite of my depression (something I seem to've inherited from either you or mom, I might just add, seeing as all of my siblings have it), I manage to make my deadlines, do at least decently well in school, and do the tasks I need to (regardless of whether you bother to notice or realize). And I might not wake up before noon on days that I don't have any responsibilities but you always did have a hard time understanding anything that did not meet your precise and arbitrary demands and expectations.

However - more than anything - when I get angry, I hold my tongue to those who were not involved or to blame. When I have a bad day, I watch what I say. I put others before myself and precisely be sure that their respect is properly regarded and treated.

Out of what little I have in this world, you will not take my dignity from me. I get - that - much.

Love always,

Love always,

I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond I will not respond

I'm being bombarded by far too many emotions than one individual should have to deal with at one moment right now.

This would be excusable if I didn't have class in 3.5 hours and did not have a paper I still need to write roughly before then.

The only benefit I've been able to come up with so far for my insane procrastination this weekend is that it'll result with me in the comp. sci. labs from roughly 1 to 9 in the morning munching on a full pizza and blasting Bruce Springsteen music in a pure marathon (17 albums? Should be enough to last me the night) because no one will be there with me at so late an hour.

Also, my latest music obsession:

So, I know I've been saying I'd do another archaic word of the day for a while now (that being an understatement). And, in pure Jon fashion, I have yet to do it. SO, to make it up to you all, I'm doing three today. You English-lovin' subscribers, start rejoicing.

Since, admittedly, it's been a while, I'll explain the point and purpose behind this little (laxidasical) project of mine again. I'm a writer, and, as such, I love words. I particularly have a taste for the rare and obscure (for whatever reason), so I'm naturally drawn to archaic words. Also, I'm finding I love linguistics, and I like things which are in sort of in-between positions (such as, for example, words that belong to a particular type of a language (I'm thinking British English here) and not others - scrumping being an excellent example. It means to steal, specifically, apples from a garden or orchard (not any other kind of fruit, funnily enough). Use it in an American conversation sometime). Plus I think once a word has a definition, that definition is valid forever.

Also, I'm going to start re-posting the definitions of all the past words when I do this too, so you don't have to figure it out from the example sentences alone or search through my xanga for the original entries.

Now, without further ado...our three new words! They are Weal, Nesh, and Farrant. Farrant, in fact, is so archaic that I can't seem to find a definition of it anywhere other than the text I got it from for my English class and the OED. Also interesting (according to the OED apparently), Farrant has two adjective forms (Farrantly as well). However, seeing as farrantly as an adjective is first seen used several centuries after farrant, it's likely just a product of the language breaking down over time; need further evidence? Quick - adjective, quickly - adverb.

Interestingly for neal, only the World English dictionary (of the dictionaries that dictionary.com lists; I didn't check the OED) list weal as archaic. It's a good crop this time, guys.

Farrant [ˈfær-ənt]
-adjective

1. of a person: Obs.
   a. well-favored, comely, handsome, good-looking.
   b. genteel, respectable
2. of a thing: becoming, fit, proper
3. having a specified appearance, disposition, or temperament:
    auld-farrant, evil-farrant, fair-farrant, fighting-farrant, foul-farrant, well-farrant.

Origin:
c1380; probably an application of farande, northern present participle of fare v.; compare the sense ‘to suit, befit’ of Old Norse fara

Related forms:
farrantly, adjective (same as above)
farrantly, adverb

1. pleasantly, handsomely, splendidly

Nesh [nɛʃ]
-adjective

1. sensitive to the cold
2. timid or cowardly

Origin:
from Old English hnesce;  related to Gothic hnasqus  tender, soft; of obscure origin

Weal [wiːl]
-noun

1. wale, welt, Also called: wheal - a raised mark on the surface of the body produced by a blow
2. archaic prosperity or wellbeing
    the public weal, the common weal
3. obsolete the state
4. obsolete wealth

Origin:
1st: variant of wale , influenced in form by wheal; 2nd: Old English wela; related to Old Saxon welo, Old High German wolo 

Luculent [loo-kyoo-luhnt]
-adjective

1. clear or lucid:
    a luculent explanation.
2. convincing; cogent.

Origin:
1375-1425

Acherontic [Ach`e*ron"tic]
-adjective

1. of or pertaining to Acheron; infernal; hence, dismal, gloomy; moribund:

Origin:
dictionary.com doesn't say

Deign [deyn]
-verb (used without object)

1. to think fit or in accordance with one's dignity; condescend:
    He would not deign to discuss the matter with us.

-verb (used with object)

2. to condescend to give or grant:
    He deigned no reply.
3. Obsolete. to condescend to accept

Origin:
1250-1300

Gainsay [geyn-sey, geyn-sey]
-verb (used with object), -said, -say⋅ing

1. to deny, despute, or contradict
2. to speak or act against; oppose

Origin:
1250-1300

Related forms:
gainsayer, noun

Ere [air]
–preposition, conjunction

before; previous to; sooner than

Origin:
before 900

Mauger  [maw-ger]
-preposition

1. archaic in spite of; Notwithstanding:
    I will follow you, mauger your recent defeat.

Origin:
1225-75; Middle English<Middle French: literally, spite, ill-will

Mauger the upcoming onslaught of the end-times, I haven't had such a lucucent vision of what I want to do with my life in years. Ere the Hell-demons come, I shall have to do more physical work (my skin is far too nesh at the moment - there are ice demons in Hell, you know). I'm told I have far too acherontic of a future-view but I gainsay those people and tell them the simple truth - they are ignoring our impending reality. I surely find it better that I not allow pride to influence me; should I never deign to speak on the future would be a severe blow against the public weal, surely. If only wish more could learn to be so farrant a person as me.

One of the things that I've always had a love/hate relationship with was my ability to deal with severe sadness or emotional pain. I'm not talking about a depression spat (those are too imediate for my liking). I'm more talking emotional disturbances triggered by an unfortunate event, such as a break up or death.

I imagine it's some survival instinct I picked up back during high school, or I imagine that maybe it's just an unfortunate side effect of having to learn social mores and, therefore, monitoring and keeping watch on every action I do, but emotional disturbances don't hit me immediately. At least, not big ones.

Again probably a side effect of having to learn from scratch how to act socially, but I find it incredibly difficult to process or understand most anger/sadness that isn't in the form of an action (which, now that I think of it, is interesting considering how I tend to find anger and, to a lesser extent, sadness more easy to understand and process than the confusion that is most general happiness or positive emotions; but a thought for later: that's not the point of this post).

Someone get's hurt? Easy, help them. Someone hurt someone I care about? Comfort the friend and deal with the guilty individual. But, even further, those actions are my way of naturally expressing my emotions.

I generally don't cry. Particularly so in situations like the above. Perhaps I instinctively convinced myself it's a waste of time. I wouldn't know. But it's not something I do, on the spot particularly. I don't get torn up inside. In short, I often wonder whether I can actually feel – in a moment of self-worry – at times of particular crisis.

People expect reactions. Sure, stoicism can be taken as strength and, to some, restraint over uncontrolled emotion is considered the greater strength. I'll never forget, the second time Laura broke up with me, as Victoria and I were walking down the link, Victoria kept telling me it was alright to vent, express whatever sadness/disappoint/whatever I might be feeling. Amused by her concern, I just shrugged and honestly answered, "I'm fine." Or jess's attempted suicide. I was frustrated, irritated at not being able to do anything – but I didn't actually internally feel anything until the next day. And I'm sure it would have taken much longer to finally work, ever so slowly, through all the emotional distress which would float to the surface.

The last "words" I said to Steve was an E-mail asking why he hadn't told me, the Symph Winds manager, about the concert that was occurring, I think, the Friday before Winter Break.

I half considered just getting a new workstudy. I said here once that I like my bosses (and, humorously, how rare I imagine that might be for some); I hadn't realized just how much so.

It's going to be a shitshow when all it finally hits, though.

When my dad broke into buildings as a youth, he stole shit and eventually got caught by the cops.

When my friends and I broke into a building, we marveled at what fixtures hadn't been removed and what it must have looked like before being closed, ahh-ed at old records of famous litarary works lying around (as well as on old school fire alarm bell) and the boxes of old files and college theses that we found, and scoured our eyes over the original blueprints. And Lord of the Rings references to Khazad-dûm (Moria); many Lord of the Rings references.