There were days; There will always be days

Okay so I'm trying to figure out what I like and what I don't like in college.
Love:
Drinking with people I know
Like:
Writing for the newspaper
the gays
my hall
Dislike:
The work
dining hall
listening to shit outside
feeling fail
my hall (I know it comes twice)
Hate:
going to big parties
drinking with people I don't know
meeting people and not meeting them ever again
momentary friendships
not being able to see the movies in theaters

The only thing I've really noticed about college is that now my feet smell worse. Do I have a foot fungus? Please no.

College may be the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
I can't stand it here, but I don't think I could stand it any where else. It's not like I'll come home. At least not until the year is through. I have too much pride for that.
There is just something that isn't clicking in me. The only problem is I know it wouldn't click anywhere. I could go back home, I could go to a different state, I could be anywhere with anyone and that clicking still wouldn't be happening. This is why college is so bad. It makes me realize I can't click.
It's beautiful here. The light is.
The people are beautiful here, too. Maybe they're all a little too athletic for my taste, a little too much in shape, but I can live. I can live without hating myself. At least I am not going to UCF or some other mistake. At least I'm doing something good. At least I'm making a good choice.
It's just hard adjusting. Very difficult.
Don't tell me it wil come in time. Don't tell me I just need to ride it out. I'll tell you to shut up.

"But when it comes right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn't do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but some where else, deeper more secret, and a whole lot harder to get at."

I keep meaning to update but I am too busy walking.

Fuck this dorm room is hot and the distance is killing me. I hate trivial shopping shit. I have felt tired and lugubrious all day. I must hate myself today. I just used the word lugubrious. That is my least favorite word in the entire English language. Also, English has a shit ton of words so I must really, really that word.
I need to find out this college's policy on downloading illegal shit. Is it prohibited or merely frowned upon? I can live with being frowned upon
[interrupted to be talked to by the SA]
but I can't live with being held in violation of school policy!
I'm far too fucking goodygoody to do such a thing.

This is the Denver airport. I hate flying. I hate the time change.
I'm thinking, wow, this is different. I'm being so different. I wanted to be so different. I don't know why. I don't know why. I hope it's okay, this being different. I feel like I miss the east coast already.
I wanted to see that world. That's what it was. I wanted to individuate (fuck you Carl Jung--you struck fear in my heart!).
I'm seeing the world in Washington. I'm seeing the world in no where Walla Walla.
I want to see the world in oceans
and colors
and love
and success
and people
and I guess the key is leaving. Saying goodbye. Not saying, forget you or fuck you or to hell with it but just saying goodbye.
I always talk about goodbye. It's what it always is about recently.

Sleepy peepy and I won't be in Washington until 4 pacific time. Nothing like a good old nine hour travel day to get you into that spirit of adventure.

People on paper, they look so good. People in text, telling me about their "interests"; they seem so fine!
Out in the world, people are what they are. You like Resident Evil? Oh, me too! Let's be friends. Let's be best friends.
But then you hate each other! lol!
I hate this lack of time. I never felt this pressure before. I've never felt like my time will be up and there's so much left unsaid.
Let's not let the things left unsaid stay between us, okay?

Friends. A pleasant word? I've always quite like the feeling of F. The teeth on the lip, pursed together and with a little exhale, yes there it is: F-f-friends. There they are. Maybe it is nature of things. Friends, ends. It's not so much that I'm tired of it, more that I'm tired of caring.
I wish there was an easy way to accept that, maybe, you just have to stop caring. I was never one for preemptive apathy though, so I always have to wait for the signal from someone else. But I'm not up on the secret signs. Like those signs a catcher gives to the pitcher, I could never, ever read those.
It would be cool to say "This was the summer of love" or "this was the summer of adventure", but I can't really think those things. I can't even say "this was the summer of nothing" because there was a lot that was more than nothing. Nothing is easy.
I had the most wonderful morning. Waking up, feeling more than just a pillow next to me. I'd love it. I love it. Not the summer of love, though. Never the summer of love.
And then there are the years you spend caring about people. Sometimes an hour can feel like a year and sometimes those years can all be broken by one hour. It's really not a gradual depreciation of things. It's one moment where one person decides to "let go". Just like that. Once that decision has been made, it's over. There's no saving it.
There's no saving Jack, Rose. He's dead.
So, you're a young hottie (this a theoretical situation). What will you be when you're not young? Are they linked, bound? I'm desperate to feel young. I'm desperate to feel nineteen. I feel dead. I feel like air.
Because you breathe me in and then you forget.
This is so long. There is no see you again.
I am afraid of not being very good and growing old alone and sad.
I am held together by tape and staples.... what else can you be held together with…glue?
Humans die so easily. A smack on the head and you’re dead so how do we manage to live so long? 19 years….that’s a long time to have successfully avoided car crashes, fires, drowning, sickness, murderers, that is a serious achievement I feel but, obviously, so many people make it through, so truthfully it doesn’t take any sort of exceptional intelligence or ability…I’m convinced what it takes most is luck to make it through.
It’s all about birth. I like to feel as if we’ve destroyed these class boundaries in America, but we haven’t. We’re still bound by what we were given or what we weren’t. You’re some upper middle class kid, you’re probably gonna die some upper middle class adult.
Unless “awful” things happen.
Will the world end in 2012? I don’t know. I feel like the world is likely to end at any time because it’s all so unstable: government, economy, relationships, but I guess things MUST be more stable than I think because governments keep ruling, the economy keeps expanding, people stay married for years…but every moment that things move further in time, it gets a little more fragile…
I’m afraid of going backwards in time and going forwards in time so no matter how bad I am in the present that is where I want to be because the past was awful and the future might be worse, but right now is always me living and that’s something I can appreciate.
I don’t want to feel helpless, ever again.
I’m helpless now. 
So many people are dead. Dying. We all say it. We all know it. Do we know it’s true?
I was afraid of being left alone, but I always was, almost alone.
I am held together with staples and tape.
Fuck suck shit this is why I like pictures.
efuep9fh8o9y88o34tyh: Hi, my name is Pam. I'm the chaplain here at hospice. Nice to meet you. Are you waiting for a family member...? Oh, oh I'm sorry to here that. Very sorry. Have you dealt with anything like this before? Okay. Well, if you need any help, any counseling. Just call...we can refer you to someone, and I'm always here to talk. Always. Anyways, I can see you need to go, I wish we could havve met under better circumstances. Good to have you met you, Eric.
wutareyousaying: Sorry, what was that? You said you're here to see who? I'm sorry, I think you've come to the wrong place. That person isn't on the list. Maybe you can try down the hall? No, no I'm not trying to imply anything by that. I'm sorry, really, I am. I'll check one more time. No, yes. Try down the hall. Take this with you (hands a slip of paper). Bless you.

Look at that paper.

Pennsylvania was beautiful. I could see myself living out there in the nothingness, as long as I had a something to come back to.
Music can be intrusive, but on the plane it was helpful to listen to while I read. It helped me avoid fantasies of opening the emergency exit and flying out.
I came home and was tired so I went to my room and locked my door and listened to the rain. I would shut my eyes and all I would see is the back of those lids and you can only stare at that for just so long.
Mom was in the mood for a fight so I gave her one. It started because she decided to be a bitch and talk to me about safe sex in front of Diane and Brian and Dad and I was saying "What, you think it is ok to do this now? You think it is ok to do this when you have never done this in your life?" Push my buttons, yeah. Push them hard. I hate talking about sex. It would be cool if Mom wanted to know my views on such things in private, but I was very enraged that such things could be coffee discussion.
I slammed the door on my way out, but not angrily. The door always slams.
The storm was over and my butt got wet because the chairs had all been left outside. I looked up and hoped that the plane above would suddenly have me in it. Diane tapped me on the arm and Brian gave me a kiss on the head and he left. I started crying (which surprised me oh yes it did) so Diane stayed with me. She's spent a lot of time analyzing family dynamics. It isn't about me, all that. It's easier to remember now. Now that I have that distance.
I lied, just now. I'll never have that distance, but I do have that control.
Pause.
Was that a lie?
No.
I can't help but say I am not broken up about all this. There was conflict resolution because I went and made it happen. "Mom," I said. Things only went up from there.
The whining of bourgeoisie white people never ends. The whining of the world never ends.
God, I do not feel like waking up tomorrow.

Can you totally hate an entire movie because of its ending?
I think I'm capable of such a thing.

I woke up and my bangs were like a stage curtain. I went to the bathroom and saw my eyes were bloody so I did them. I did my eyes. It took only a second. The face was hairy, but I pretended it was a manly thing so I could neglect my duties. Now it is just sandpapery.
Downstairs, time went backwards.
There is not nearly enough sleep in the world.

Did you find it?
If so, leave me a message.

The glistening of the water reminded Eric of his skin, sweat. Your blood your bones. The bodies sinking and melding together. Eric lay his arm onto his eyes to block out the images, to crush his skull. The bandages on his arm stuck to his face. There was nothing left for him here. He could not think. He could only stay. He removed his arm and looked through the pool screen towards the sky. He saw the molecules of the trees vibrating, shaking, coming together by the sheer power of his own thoughts.
"I would like to tell you a story of myself." The air barely escaped his lips, floating up into the expanse of the sky.
As the the trees moved together Eric saw before him his entire future. As surely as the sun flaming in the night, the future unfolded as a reflection in water: bending, twisting, but still there. Always there.
Life is not a trial, but a persistent opportunity.

I'm spineless, really. It's no secret.
When someone (someone you like) tells you "this is what I want and this is what you aren't", that is painful like taking pliers and ripping off your nails so that the lunula tears and you scream.
I'm still dumb. There's really no excuse.
There was #1 who I hated but who liked me and now there is #2 who I like but who doesn't like me.
Will it keep going #3, #4, #5...
I would like it to stop at least by #17. Because I really only have so much to give out.

I keep reading romantic novels and watching romantic movies/T.V. shows because I'm trying to devise how it is supposed to be. Everyone has different opinions on this, however. Is there supposed to be weeks and months of sweet flirtation or are you supposed to fuck someone the first time you meet them? If I could just choose I would probably opt for option one, but I want to do it right.
It reminds me of middle school. During lunch I would try to find a spot where I would look inconspicuous and I would just read all those fantasy novels so that people wouldn't talk to me and say horrible things. I've never been very inconspicuous. Kids hated that.

I think things would have been different for us if I had argued for Twilight instead of against it, but I couldn't.

Things I will do when I move to Washington:
1. Forget about the ages 6-13
2. Drink a lot
3. Get good grades
4. Move back
5. Profit

I say, sir, I'm sorry things didn't work out. I'd like to meet your friends, but I am an idiot and a spazz. No hard feelings. I'm still going to read Atlas Shrugged, just so I can really see what all the buzz is about.

I went to the store with my mother to buy some cake mix and find a present for my sister.
I read in the front and waited for her like I used to when I was a little kid and couldn't drive.
At Borders I had to find a second book because they were buy one get one free. I didn't want any of the other books, but since I was being forced by the check out woman I chose a comedy about Hollywood. It looks vapid and terrible. Maybe I'll read it.
I got home and found something terrible in the toilet. I'll post it in a second. Can you guess what it is? I'll tell you after.
My dad was going to feed it to the dogs. Isn't that disgusting?
Mom forgot to put vanilla in the icing so we had to scrape it off. The cake has holes!

( This is the horrible picture, if you are not feint of heart.  )

"Indeed, his own life was a miracle; let him make no mistake about it; here he was, in the prime of life, walking to his house in Westminster to tell Clarissa that he loved her. Happiness is this, he thought."
-Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia Woolf

I'll fuck you up.

What do I think

I am creating a poll.
Vote:
A. You think I am transparent.
B. You think not.