And for 3/4 of that time, I haven't had the energy to really change anything about the layout.
I've got "Blogger Burnout". I need a LiveJournal, guys. What's that deal about the code-thingy? Ah, I guess I'll figure it out sooner or later...
...and maybe I'll make a separate series of archives in Blogger to reference all of the posts that I consider "worthy of hanging on to", i.e. any that are journal-like and not too ephemeral to enjoy. It'll be fun. But first...LiveJournal. Because a "friends" list could be fun, right?
Okay, so maybe that's not so shocking. But today, Anne Rice and Gwen Stefani reminded me that I am capable of love, and more than that, I love more easily than most. And we're not just talking "I love you as a human being and a friend" stuff here. We're talking "I feel like I could spend the rest of my life in your eyes" or somesuch crap. So, in honor of my beloved (but not in the latter sense) friend, Scott Heaney, I outstretch my hand before my face, with all five digits extended. Four of these fingers represent the past, and one gives me hope for the future. The first finger--my "thumb of love", if you will--well, I was (and by some reports still am) supposed to marry her one day in the not-so-distant future. And a part of me will always remember the life that the two of us were going to have, no matter what may happen. The second finger represents the first boy that I ever really wanted--the biggest of unrequited loves, because I have never been able to have him, even for a while, as much as I have hoped for the day. The third finger is the girl who made my senior year of high school into what it was. I've never felt quite so passionate or confused about any one person since. And there's a reason that she now gets the middle finger. Not from hostility or resentment, but from general fed-up-i-ness. (Who says that seventeen-year-olds can't have some form of mature love for not one, but two different people? I did. Heh. Don't you just love denial? I've perfected it as an art form.) The fourth finger, much like the first, is now one of my closest friends and most trusted confidantes, and he is also the person that gave me the strength to become the person that I am today. Were it not for the events that took place between us, would I be able to be honest with myself about the person that I have been for as long as I care to remember? Ummm...I wish I could answer that, sometimes. But most of the time I'm just content with the way that it all did happen. And finally, that last finger...that pinky finger, the smallest of the five...that is the future. It is a person that I have been denying feelings for in the face of whatever new thing was suddenly presented to me, or because of whatever new comment left me full of distaste and general stabbiness. He has been what I wanted ever since I had a taste of his true self. (::hoping that the pun in that is as good for others as it is for me::) Well, not "ever since"...I wanted him, then I wanted to kill him, then I got over wanting to kill him, then I wanted him again. :) And now I can't shake the feeling that I said a bit too much via email in one of my "my mind runneth over" moods, even though it's mostly illogical.
Oy. This, from the one who always thought that he couldn't love. Maybe it would be healthier if I'd just let myself be capable of things. :)
Okay, so I've mentioned it before. I cry over things now. I watched the third "Lord of the Rings" movie last weekend...cried there. I read an old comic book that I've had since I was 9, and I even cried during that. But still...
I don't even know why I was reading gay porn stories in the first place. Surely I have better things to do with my time--it's really late, and even if I don't sleep, I got DVDs for Christmas. But I have found the most well-written stories on those erotic fiction sites ever. It's called "The Human Condition", and I've spent the better part of the last two hours--okay, maybe more--reading and crying. And this is not in the "gay porn makes me sad because I'm lonely and embittered" realm of things--it's because some of the subject matter is really, really touching. Really.
Tonight, I watched the first half of Angels in America, a drama about AIDs and homosexuality in the Reagan era and religion, based on a Broadway play, being shown on HBO. And it was more amazing than I could have expected--some of the acting, some of the scenes in this were just dizzying. Patrick Wilson's role as a heavily closeted Mormon is one of the finest characterizations I've seen in a while, and...well, I'm sounding too much like a film critic, and a cheesy one at that. But it's true, and, goddammit, I'd make a good film critic. I cannot wait for the second half.
The semester is over, I came home yesterday, and everything is done. I did fairly well. I made it through the papers, the stresses, the complete and total large amounts of everything. There are loose ends...the conferences that I am going to attend, the money that was never reimbursed for Becky Foreman regarding URG...but it's really all done. And then a fresh start in January. Every semester, a fresh start. Every semester, my life changes so dramatically, in ways that I'd never expect. And I hope that I can just make the best of these changes.
I'm in Rockwood. I haven't had a cigarette today. I haven't managed to get ahold of the friends that I need to see, but I did converse with one of their mothers...and the things that she told me about the life of one of my best friends are not pretty. I can only hope for the best, but I'm worried. I'm worried that she will get herself into a situation that she can't get out of, I'm worried that she'll end up pregnant, I'm worried that she might be on drugs, or that she'll lose her job, or that I'll lose her. And that's the selfish one. I'm afraid that, with this guy in her life, and with me being gone and unavailable to her, I've already lost her. And I will do whatever is necessary to see that that has not been the case.
Yes, both of my parents know about the smoking. Both of them just assume that I'm quitting. They assume wrong, but that doesn't stop the guilt, the willingness to try to convince myself that I don't still need them. And that's falling apart. I do need the nicotince. Right now. A lot.
I'm so very, very lonely sometimes. That's what Angels in America reminded me of. I see what it is that I do not have, I have convinced myself for so long that I do not need it, but I do. I still feel alone in a crowd somedays, and I don't want that anymore. I want someone for me, just like all the rest of these people around me have. For once in my life, I think that I deserve some happiness shared between another person and myself, and I want all that I deserve to have.
With time, Jeff...with time. Let's see what the new year shall bring, and let us hope that it is good.
I have a cell phone now.
And the reason that I'm not smoking right now? Rain. I actually cannot smoke in the house, and it's raining quite hard based on the sound of it. Cigarettes and rain do not mix.
It has been so, so long since I have updated. Partially because I would prefer to move to Livejournal but as of yet have not had the chance (not because I don't like Blogger, but because I would be joining what is more of a Livejournal community, and that would be more likely to get posted to). I should be writing a paper due about 12 hours from now, but I feel the need to post. Partially because I'm the only one around here at the moment. And I feel like I am the only person left in my world. I've been procrastinating a lot lately, as well as doing other things that have not boded well for my studying. In fact, I think I'm going to be pulling several B's this semester, and that could be bad for my GPA. No Honors full member status for next semester, eh? Which is not so much the problem...it's the fact of dealing with the bitchiness from my parents that I will receive about this. And the fact that it is my own fault, not because I didn't understand any material, but because I did not put in the amount of work that I should have. I set a goal of achieving at least a 3.5 after this semester, and I don't think that I'm pulling it off. Which means that it is more important for next semester. After all, I do want to go to graduate school, and I want to do this as easily as possible. But I do not want to better my performance in school by cutting out any activities...well, I might end up cutting the radio station, not because I don't enjoy it, but because I slept through the meeting last week and therefore did not get a timeslot for finals week.
Enough complaining about school. I would still say that I'm doing well. It's a pity that I don't think I will be sharing more of my work with my family...but I don't think that they would appreciate my work on bisexuality that I did. In fact, I never mentioned it at all to them, because that would just be an odd conversation. I'm still not out to them...well, I basically outed myself to my mother, but she is denying that that conversation ever happened. Much as she is the one in which I told her that I smoke. Which I do. Because I want to. Not as much as I want to, of course...because I'd probably die soon if I smoked every 30 minutes or more. And I don't want to die, really. Well, not soon, at any rate.
Change of focus again. I almost have a love life. At the very least, I have a sex life. But right now, I think I've reached the conclusion that I want to give things a try. You see, apparently there has been some thoughts about dating between me and someone else. Not seriously dating, of course, but something sort of casual. And I think that I want to fling myself into this full-force and hope that the things that I would actually want in a relationship could occur. (What I want: sex, going out on actual dates, lots of conversation, sleeping in the same bed at least some of the time, maybe the occasional public display of affection. I don't want anything beyond that yet. Love and commitment are too messy to even remotely consider.) But I don't know.
Nicotine addictions and you: considerations for the reason behind inhaling.
I walked for a few minutes today, smoking a cigarette...a vanilla clove, Djarum to be exact. It was good. I was considering new ways to properly inhale. I've developed into a laziness about it, a habit-within-a-habit that, while not only puts ever-so-slightly less nicotine into my lungs, gets the cigarette itself a little bit slobbery. So I thought about it and realized that it was an unconscious action, one easily adapted into a new unconscious action with somewhat better effects. Best bang for my buck, and all that. And then I realized, while singing to myself in my usual skewed tone (someday I'll figure out how different my actual vocal pitch is from what I hear, and learn how to account for it...I might even be able to sing afterwards...but I digress), that I only get the urge to sing loudly when smoking. To me, nicotine has become a song. A song that many cannot appreciate, and by choice never will. A song that my mind resonates with as much as any other that I love. A song that I have at times tried to suppress for the sake of my eventual health but have not been able to successfully. A song that I want to never abandon--rather, I want to shout it from the rooftops in my usual skewed tone (ha!). A song that will kill me slowly and painfully, with every intake of air coming as the result of agonizing struggle. And I don't want to stop smoking, period. I like the smell, the taste, the way it makes me feel, the aesthetics of walking around smoking a cigarette. Yes, it's not good reasoning, yes, it's partially shallow, no, I don't care right now. I can rationalize it. I can do it when I can afford it, and avoid when I can't. Yes, that means I could quit. Will I? I don't know. Right now, I don't want to for a very long while. And that's all there is to it. I apologize.
It's hard to hide a hardon when you're dressed like Minnie Pearl.
Still lonely. Still unmotivated. Craving intimacy, seeking single male interested in the same. If I already know them, that is. Or if they just want to meet me, that's fine, too. Note: intimacy does not imply love, nor does it even necessarily infer sex. Although I won't complain when either of those two find me. Plus, I'm not seeking so much as just wanting, because seeking is harder than it sounds.
Hair is currently multiple shades of blue, green, and yellow. Today I like it.
I don't know what I'm doing this weekend. Or ever. I want nothing and everything. I'm listening to Johnny Cash, and his death still saddens me. I worry about everyone...well, only a few people. I'm alone right now, in the literal sense.
MBTI type changed. I've moved from XNTP, leaning more I, strong on all the rest, to an XNXP, leaning E, leaning F. Mmm...ENFP. No surprise there.
My hair has been three colors this week. Black. Goldish-blond. Blue. I wish that I had had the chance to show off the gold more, but you dye your hair when you have the chance, right? I think every shade of blue is represented somewhere on my head.
So, here it is. I'm lonely. I'm unmotivated. And not only am I indulging in immoral activities, they're repeating the past. Grrrreat. Consistency is valued, but I can only take so much. How's about something new?
A week ago, I said that life was great. It was. It is. And that doesn't matter one damn bit sometimes. At least if I'm going to be depressed, I'd like a reason...other than empathic depression...or a resounding loneliness...or the feeling of being unable to find the desire within myself to do something as simple as writing an email, for no reason at all other than the fact that I feel somewhere within my mind that noone who reads it will care what I'm saying. But oh, the times can be happy...I can have fun...there's only one thing that I crave, one thing that can rejuvenate my purpose, one thing to resolve my meaninglessness, one simple thing that exists in abundance, yet never in the form that you're looking for.
One thing that I know can hurt me if I let it fill me up too quickly or too much. One thing that I want to be able to say I've dealt with, I've felt, I finally know that I'm really capable of...because at this point I don't know if I am.
But damnit, there's no need to feel this way. I am everything that it takes for me to be happy. I need nothing to fulfill my life, and besides, you never know how long anything will last. I don't want a miserable little fling...well, okay, maybe I do, but that's not all I want.
I want some real, tangible relationship. I want to be comfortable with another person in all ways possible. And maybe...just maybe...if everything manages to work out just right, if things don't end as quickly as I'm sure that they will...
Maybe if I'd update more often I'd have more to say.
Point one: life is great. I've been going through day after day of feeling like I'm really in the right place, and I love it. I'm quite overbooked...of course.
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
10:30
11:00
Honors American History
Honors American History
Honors American History
11:30
12:00
Intro to Philosophy
Intro to Philosophy
12:30
1:00
1:30
2:00
Intro to Research
Intro to Research
WTTU(?)
Intro to Research
2:30
3:00
3:30
4:00
Peer Mentoring Hon1010
4:30
5:00
5:30
6:00
Law Colloquium
Law Enforcement
6:30
7:00
7:30
8:00
8:30
9:00
Eclectic Society or URG
That doesn't include the weekend, becuase it's less written in stone...every other week, at 7pm on Saturday, I show the Mindful Movie. Most Sundays, I go to Unity Church of the Cumberlands (yep, that's right, a church...with me in it...regularly) at around 11ish...then mentor meetings starting at 2. And then there's the other committee that I'm a member of. And then there's the fact that I've got like 60 pages of research to do this semester. Fun. So, that's me, overextended Jeffrey. Only not too badly. So, other than that, I mostly need physical contact, and lots of it. The only good opportunity for what I want, however...is in Rockwood. But oh...oh, that would be so great. (Take a lucky guess at what my biggest frustration is right now...even more so thatn my current lack of work or car.) I might be getting a job, as well...at Cosmo, a bar and grill not too far from here. Maybe. I think. So, to finish off, I know oa lot of people that I really like to be around, I enjoy living with my roommate even if he is confusing, and I'm fairly content. I also intend to vastly overcommit myself even more as time goes by, as well as making a trip back to Rockwood for friendship and fulfillment...sometime. I promise. As for now...here I am. Oh, yeah...I'm also going to Buzzfest in two days. Yay!
Shall I be introspective? (LONG LONG LONG, a little bit explicit, a little bit whiny)
Well, first off, my time in Cookeville got decidedly less stressy and uncomfortable shortly after my last post. Good for me, eh? I hadn't worn out any welcomes, as I was reminded of (rather sweetly, I might add). So, back to the house, back to "nothing much happening", with the exclusion of everything that's always going weird here lately. I've had some odd things develop lately (which, Rockwood person(s), I haven't shared yet for a reason, give me time) that have served to make me feel more like a part of a family than I have in a while. Yes, we may all be nuts...yes, my parents might try to be overly controlling and have a preternatural ability for complaining (hey, I had to get it from somewhere, right?)...but we are family. "Families is where our nation takes hope, where wings take dream," as President George W. Bush once said (no, really). Even if you don't like your family that much, you have to identify with them. At least a few (but nowhere near most) of my weird experiences have involved my family. And aside from that...I've been thinking. A lot. As usual. I've been examining myself like always, and I might be feeling unusually honest about myself.
Love: Okay, so I'm good at being alone. I'm the guy who never has a relationship, and when I do, it's rather short-lived. I don't express the kind of love that people tend to think of as a necessity for everyday life (I disagree, anyway). I don't do happy-couple-ness. I'm not good at having so much as a normal sex life, as in one that doesn't provide me with screwed-up neuroses and funny stories to tell. Funny stories can get tiresome, you know? It would nice to have a sweet, sane, pleasant, erotic tale to stick in there somewhere. Being a punchline gets old. So, at any rate...when I'm looking objectively, I see something in myself...an attractive face, a presence, something that I think someone out there would legitimately be interested in. But nope. The total number of prospects I have is someone that I will be able to marry someday, like June of 2009. That's about it. I have the groundwork for a happy relationship...6 years in the future. Just a measly 6 years...the longest 6 years of my life? The years when I should be out having fun, sowing my wild oats? If I can't do mindless fucking without creating odd stories that I may or may not be entirely forthcoming about...if I can't date someone without making the stories even odder...if I can't even somehow manage to meet a single person at college that I would seriously consider the idea of dating for even a short while...could I pull off the marriage thing? Would I not somehow screw things up in the process? It's not like I've known that many people, ever, that have genuinely been attracted to me...I was just gifted with the ability to really listen, and somehow some people like that. I can't even pull off "charming" unless I'm in a certain, highly extroverted, usually somewhat self-deprecating, mood. I just don't want to spend the intervening years between 19 and starting a family alone. And then, there's the issue of gender...meaning other people's, not mine. I want to have a public, visible relationship with someone that I care about, but not a serious one. That's all. I want it to be about a connection with another person, intellectually, sexually, emotionally, spiritually. That would be nice. But how do I do it? And what sort of person do I do it with? How do I work it out that I have no intention of falling in love, but that I want something that will actually make both of us feel better? I see her...you...the "marriagable" one that I mentioned earlier, if you will...pull it off nicely. Where can someone find someone that interested, that committed, that loving, and still know where you stand? I want to do it. And even then...man? Woman? I mean, really, now...it depends on the person. I don't care about someone for their genitalia...although it does play a part. For example, vaginas are weird. I don't really find them to be easy--or even necessarily pleasurable--to deal with, at least in my experience. Wouldn't I rather not deal with one full-time? That's a good question. Plus, I have to keep in mind the fact that, recently, sex hasn't always worked out well for me. Something inside me is holding me back from it, which can cause problems with the actual "culmination" of the act. Not that any of this even comes up very often...at all...but if I were to be in a relationship, it would be an issue. I relate to people in too much of a physical manner for it not to be. So, where do I stand? Am I some anomaly, the type of person that people just don't see themselves with? Am I too good at playing the friend to play the boyfriend?
Friendship: I lose 'em all, don't I? Oh, sure, I have people in Cookeville that, despite my worries, I was able to pick back up with just like that. Well, mostly...there were moments that felt tenuous. But that seems like it was all based on my paranoia. So, is that what's true here? I don't talk to people that I should talk to, simply because I don't feel like I should always be the one to keep contacting and contacting, never to get so much as a phone call (yeah, this does refer to some of my friends in Rockwood...but that's about as specific as I should intentionally be). One of my closest friends I simply don't talk to, for reasons I don't understand...we could call each on a regular basis (although not altogether frequently, given the circumstances), but we only do it on rare occasions. I love everytime that I get the chance to speak to her, I know that we have both said to the same person that we are each one of the only people from around here that we care about talking to anymore...yet we speak so rarely. It feels like we're not close, even though everything in me says differently. Another of my closest friends doesn't really talk to me...she talks at me, always about her fiance who is away, in training, where she can't speak to him regularly. And I know that, when he's around, there's nothing else in her mind. Nothing. She says that I'm the only friend that she has, but I wonder sometimes if she really has me. And I don't even know if that's awful of me or merely warranted. I don't like for people to think primarily of me and my concerns...in fact, if they have, I would like to apologize for it, because if I'd realized that they were focusing on my needs, I'd most definitely do what I could to relieve them of the burden and take care of it myself. But conversely, I don't feel good about friendships in which a person's mind is obviously giving no thought to anything besides themself and the one that they are madly in love with. It's a bit short-sighted, and not easy to associate with. You don't see people doing it very often, but when you do, it's a doozy. It's the syndrome that is colloquially referred to as "having their head up someone else's ass". And I feel bad for saying this...I love her for all our years of friendship, and I am taking full advantage of the fact that she doesn't have internet access in order to get this out of my system. It's not that it's a bad thing for her to be in love...in fact, I am so happy that she found this guy...but talking to her just feels so shallow and repetitive. Maybe it'll change when he's back in town...she'll end up calling less often, but the conversations will be more pleasant and more varied. I think. I don't know. As for other people, I just haven't talked to so many of them...how many of them can I still count as friends? Four? Six? Surely no more than that, probably less...and that's sad. It breaks my heart that I can't seem to break the barrier between myself and my old friends...and it's no one person's fault. Mine, theirs, everyone's. That makes it harder to understand, truly. The question, essentially, is this: Am I just paranoid? Is there any reason why I couldn't communicate with these people? Do I have some fundamental flaw that just turns people off...and is that flaw this same insecurity that causes me to ask this? Do I just not realize that I eventually have nothing to offer to these people? Or is it all coincidence, random patterns of timing that keep us from emailing or calling each other?
Alright...so here I am, in Cookeville, helping with the summer registrations. If you couldn't already guess, it's a slow morning. Painfully slow, even. Most everyone around here is a bit stressed out...hasn't exactly done wonders for the way things are going, but it is going. I'm not sure, but I'm beginning to feel that I've overstayed my time in Cookeville. At least the last round of the week will be done tomorrow...then it won't matter. I'll be leaving, without hesitation, ready to go back to everything that is going on in Rockwood...which, apparently, is a lot. Various things are hitting in a fairly short time, and I have neither an outlet for it nor a method of confirming most of it. So I'll ride it out, I'll do what I have to do, and then I'll leave. In August, everything will seem to be alright, and I'll even have the time to make it so. I just need something to keep me busy now. If I had my own room in this town right now, I'd hide out there until I was needed again.
Now it really has been a while, right? So it's about time that I feel like updating, just to write some things out. I've managed to keep myself fairly distracted, even considering the fact that I've not been talking to most of the people whose company I enjoy for various reasons, primarily being that I haven't simultaneously had both the time and desire to talk online. (Hmm...these online things must go hand-in-hand. I also haven't sent an email in ages, and it's obvious how much I've been updating this lately. In fact, I've debated on the reasons for keeping this site, I find it lacking.) Of course, you guessed it, I'm having an odd emotional streak...there are these random phases of self-loathing, especially while I'm in Wal-Mart (for some reason, the place makes me focus on everything that I don't like about the way I look, think, act, and live), and I've been crying over Simpsons reruns. If you're thinking that I'd make a good woman, you've got a point (although fuck off anyway, for good measure). I'm tired of a lot of things...I've had the pleasure of time spent with the 3 best friends I've ever had since I've been in Rockwood for the summer, but that's not enough (for one thing, there are a lot of other people that I'd like to speak to right about now). I need to go back to Cookeville for a few days. Since I'm obviously not going to get a call back from just about the only place that was hiring for a position during the day (and thus convenient for my non-car-having ass to get to), I need to fill my time enjoyably and semi-productively. It's not necessarily a good thing that I haven't been able to enjoy the time spent at home. Enough of this whining, I've gotten some out of my system, I've done.
I guess it is true that I haven't been updating lately. It is true that I need a change, I need something vastly different posthaste. I need to actually turn in this application to Shoe Show...shoes are fun, after all. I've been worrying about various people somehow involved in my life. I've been thinking about that cast of characters recently...the book does not lie in talking about myself. The book is in the detail that I have absorbed from the lives of all those around me. (Don't worry, folks, being vague and talking like there's someone there to read are still some of my talents.) Tonight I saw a GREAT movie by the name of One Hour Photo. It's the one with the creepy Robin Williams...and it's splendiferous. I have nothing more to add...maybe I'm done with this site and everything it had to offer me. Maybe I should be realizing what it is that I have to do to be living life to the fullest.
Yep, I'm keeping my procrastination skills honed...both in looking for a job and in talking to my parents about the details of going to RenFest, I've been putting things off. I am still not sure whether or not I'd rather be in Cookeville...ask me around mid-August. To make myself happy, I updated both of the old pages that featured my CD collection. Being easily amused is so much fun...
2004-01-09
