I went to bad last night no later than 11:30. It was a really bad day for me, and I'd go as far as saying that every day this week has been a bad one. Today wasn't much different. I couldn't sleep at all when I went to bed, and so I logged on to Meebo at midnight and tried talking with people. Nothing of substance was said, but it only took an hour for my eyes to get droopy. Turns out, of course, that droopy isn't enough, and I stayed in an uncomfortable coma from 1:00 to 6:30. Unable to take any more pretend-sleep, I logged on to Meebo again and caught the only person who's mattered this week as he was heading out to work. Once he had left, I tried the whole sleep thing again, then abandoned my attempts at 7:00 and got ready for the day.
By the time I made it downstairs, I was tired enough again to fall asleep, so I lay down on the couch and pulled out my iPod, to type on its notepad all of the things I wanted to say to the only person who's mattered this week. When that was done, I rolled onto my side and slept until my stomach demanded attention. I gave it the usual breakfast: cinnamon life (all we have in the way of cereal) with some mixed-in bran (all we have in the way of keeping my bowels just shy of total misery). When that was out of the way, I got on my computer, and logged on to retype everything to the only person who's mattered this week from my iPod and into Adium. Afterward, I composed Green, a playlist intended to only have songs inspiring fresh starts and new outlooks, sans any hint of love (something I currently see as cruelly ironic). Either my heart wasn't in it enough, or I'm a helpless romantic with too many songs centered around that theme, because when I was finished making the playlist, I only had 51 songs. I didn't feel like listening to it once I'd finished, and opted for my normal playlist of some 390 songs. When shuffled, it usually has a good sense of fitting the mood I'm in at a given time. Today wasn't different: the songs were all downbeat. During the ten songs I listened to, I got back onto Adium and typed a few more things to the only person who's mattered this week, and once I'd said everything that was on my mind, I retired once again to the couch downstairs. It was 2:00. I woke up when my dad got home, just before 4:00. Now I'm writing this blog.
I nearly started crying when I was in the middle of the first few sentences of this. I just started crying again now, thinking about how my father, who has never been one of many words, noticed how depressed I was on Tuesday and talked to me about it. I'm fairly sure he's still concerned, because my mood hasn't drastically changed between now and then. I mean, I just told you I'm crying right now.
I know that this shouldn't have been such a bad week. I got a new cell phone, I have my first job, and I'll be doing orientation for it on Saturday, two days before my family leaves for Virginia Beach. But what does that mean for me, really? A shiny new toy, and the finest symbol of power any red-blooded American can think of. Toys don't intrinsically contain anything of value to the human soul, and power is nothing without a means or a reason to share it. What good will my paychecks do if all I ever spend them on are toys that remain static on my shelves all my life? What good is saving that money for something grand if the only person who will witness its marvel is me? There's no sense to it, and so all of these things I have or will have... they're as empty as I am right now.
I don't know how much more often my heart can go through this pain. Love leaves deeper scars than anything else I know.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Thursday, May 22
Tuesday, October 23
Anatomy of a day
7:00 - My alarm goes off, I open and close my cell phone to turn it off.
7:30 - My iMac starts playing my "Songs I generally listen to" playlist. I'm pretty sure it starts with Matchbox Twenty.
9:00 - The second alarm I set for myself goes off. Switchfoot is playing.
9:07 - I finally decide to get up out of bed when "Gone" by Switchfoot starts up.
9:12 - I get to the bathroom. Its dispenser is still out of soap, as it has been for over a week now.
9:30 - I get out of the shower as Chet walks in. He tells me that I should tell an RA or Tolu about the soap.
9:33 - I get my pants on and walk out of the bathroom just as Tolu walks in. I inform him of the soap.
9:35 - I walk back into my room. "Upside Down" by Jack Johnson.
9:37 - I put my contact lenses in and put on deodorant. I shuffle through the shirts in my shirt drawer and pick out the Doane College one. I don't look half bad in orange.
9:40 - Something compels me to update Growl on my iMac. I do so, and then spend a bit of time screwing with its functions.
9:50 - I realize that if I want breakfast today, I need to book it to the coffee shop. I bring my iPod along. "The Remedy" by Jason Mraz.
9:55 - I make it into the Common Grounds in time to get a peanut butter muffin and a mocha blend smoothie. "Kiss From a Rose" by Seal.
10:00 - I get back to the dorms just in time for Scrubs. It's a commercial, so I take the opportunity to get the paper on which this was originally written and my photojournalism book. "Big Yellow Taxi" by Counting Crows.
10:05 - Scrubs is back on. "My Malpractice Decision" and "My Female Trouble."
10:15 - My stomach starts its rebellion again, marking the fourth consecutive day of GI trouble since I added more fiber to my diet.
10:57 - I head to work-study to cover for Jess. On the way out, I discover that sometimes it is just easier to expel things from your mind. Then I reflect on "Loves me, loves me not," and wonder if its accuracy is to be always trusted.
11:03 - I get to the library, and then go to the bathroom.
11:15 - I catch up on what I've been doing today.
11:20 - I help an old man by changing quarters for a dollar.
11:35 - I finish catching up, and start listening to my iPod again.
11:37 - I crack open my photojournalism book to start studying for tonight. "Open Arms" by Journey.
12:35 - I finish chapter one and consider lunch, transferring, and meeting with Jeff. "Here's to the Night" by Eve 6.
12:50 - The next person on duty arrives. Now to lunch. "Into the Ocean" by Blue October.
12:59 - I set my breaded chicken sandwich down next to my sun chips and drink. Immediately, I go to Academic Support to see if I can get a transfer thing going.
1:02 - The woman I need to talk to is in a Safe Space Training seminar. My heart smiles, and I go to get my mail.
1:05 - There's a reminder to help with the blood drive, a packet of the available interterm classes this January, and a form for off-campus cultural events in my box.
1:11 - I finish my sandwich and return the form to the Academic Support desk. The woman I need to talk to is still not back. "Be Yourself" by Audioslave.
1:15 - My iPod reminds me of my meeting with Jeff. Off I go. "Dare You To Move" by Switchfoot.
1:25 - I make a pitstop in my room to drop off my coat, photojournalism book, chips, and mailbox stuffers. I pick up a notebook with a hard cover, and my cell phone. No new calls since I put it on the charger. "Nowhere Near" by Summercamp.
1:30 - I arrive outside of Jeff's door. On the way over, I see a guy running in a bit of a baseball outfit, and am reminded of the assignment in photojournalism I have yet to attempt. "Crazy" by Alanis Morissette.
1:34 - I decide to check up on the news. "Breathe" by Anna Nalick.
1:47 - Jeff comes to talk to me after I've been waiting. The problem is what I thought it would be: American Government. "Hallelujah" by John Cale.
1:52 - Chet comes into the office. I scare him away with my awesome machismo.
1:55 - I leave Jeff's office for Dr. Hill's. He isn't in at the moment, so I remind myself to go down again Wednesday afternoon. "Life is a Highway" by Rascal Flatts.
1:58 - I go to the SLO again to declare my intention to transfer at the semester. "Are You Happy Now?" by Michelle Branch.
1:59 - I run into Dr. Hill outside of the SLO, and walking back to his office, he informs me that my debate paper will schew my grade greatly. He also tells me that my study habits may be lackluster now that I'm not in high school anymore. My idea to have him think I'm a freshman continues to amuse.
2:10 - I leave Dr. Hill's office and get back to my room.
2:13 - I sit at my desk and continue to chronicle.
2:26 - Now to get that sports photo. "Higher Ground" by Red Hot Chili Peppers.
2:38 - I am reminded of the basis behind my passionate hatred of sports and sports photography. The smell of cinnamon reminds me of my cookies. "Yesterdays" by Switchfoot.
2:43 - I run across my fourth student tour of the day. Walking past, I can't help but think what fun it would be to etch "RUN" in red ink on multiple scrawls of paper and leave them where I know touring students would find them.
2:46 - I grab some fiber cookies.
2:58 - I recall the presence of an airport in Crete, and stakeout for skydivers. "Move Along" by All-American Rejects.
3:08 - I snap a photo of two joggers. Not what I had come for, but whatevs. "Someday" by Nickelback.
3:18 - I get back to my room and watch an episode of Avatar before voice seminar. "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5.
3:52 - Avatar is still awesome, but now for the seminar.
4:03 - I get to the seminar, which Hannah Jo Smith promises will be short.
4:12 - We get out of the seminar, but not before Hannah Jo frightens my soul to its core.
4:15 - On the way back to the dorm, Tyler tells me about how one of his voice lessons with Hannah Jo was nothing but him exploding over a ton of pent-up emotions, and then crying. I suddenly realize just how strong our will to pretend that we aren't bothered by something can sometimes be, and how unhealthy it is to let those emotions all come out at the same time. Yet we all engage in the act of pretending that things don't get to us. Chekov! How right Chekov was!
4:21 - I start typing an article for American Govt.'s class tomorrow. "Poison Kiss" by The Last Goodnight.
4:49 - I finish typing my article. In printing it out, I run into Aaron Holmes, whom I try to help set up his computer to print from Frees lab. We fail.
5:00 - Aaron, Ben-Kaye, and I go to eat in the caf. We run into other AπEs there and discuss interterm options.
5:35 - I find myself unable to eat another bite of my pizza. Most of the AπEs have left, so I go to get an ice cream cone and sit with Liz, Zach, and Chanel.
5:45 - After regaling Liz and Zach with what happened today, I feel a MIGHTY NEED to use the bathroom once more.
5:50 - I go to the bathroom, but see Ben-Kaye and Aaron playing billiards, and decide to photograph them for my sports assignment.
6:00 - I go to the bathroom. It doesn't feel good.
6:10 - I head back to my room after photographing Aaron and Ben-Kaye at fußball.
6:15 - Off to rehearsal. My stomach is still sick.
6:27 - I get to the Con. I go to the bathroom.
6:54 - I begin getting actual staging in Arabian Nights. I don't have my script on me tonight. I lost it between yesterday and today.
6:59 - I go to photojournalism class. Midterm today. Hoorah.
7:07 - Richard hands out the test to Layne and I.
7:25 - I finish bombing the test.
7:54 - Class is dismissed. I hang out for a second.
9:19 - Rehearsal is done for the night. I go back to my room.
9:30 - I make it back to my room and log onto Adium for the night. I might do my German homework (and by might, I mean should), but today was way too hectic...
7:30 - My iMac starts playing my "Songs I generally listen to" playlist. I'm pretty sure it starts with Matchbox Twenty.
9:00 - The second alarm I set for myself goes off. Switchfoot is playing.
9:07 - I finally decide to get up out of bed when "Gone" by Switchfoot starts up.
9:12 - I get to the bathroom. Its dispenser is still out of soap, as it has been for over a week now.
9:30 - I get out of the shower as Chet walks in. He tells me that I should tell an RA or Tolu about the soap.
9:33 - I get my pants on and walk out of the bathroom just as Tolu walks in. I inform him of the soap.
9:35 - I walk back into my room. "Upside Down" by Jack Johnson.
9:37 - I put my contact lenses in and put on deodorant. I shuffle through the shirts in my shirt drawer and pick out the Doane College one. I don't look half bad in orange.
9:40 - Something compels me to update Growl on my iMac. I do so, and then spend a bit of time screwing with its functions.
9:50 - I realize that if I want breakfast today, I need to book it to the coffee shop. I bring my iPod along. "The Remedy" by Jason Mraz.
9:55 - I make it into the Common Grounds in time to get a peanut butter muffin and a mocha blend smoothie. "Kiss From a Rose" by Seal.
10:00 - I get back to the dorms just in time for Scrubs. It's a commercial, so I take the opportunity to get the paper on which this was originally written and my photojournalism book. "Big Yellow Taxi" by Counting Crows.
10:05 - Scrubs is back on. "My Malpractice Decision" and "My Female Trouble."
10:15 - My stomach starts its rebellion again, marking the fourth consecutive day of GI trouble since I added more fiber to my diet.
10:57 - I head to work-study to cover for Jess. On the way out, I discover that sometimes it is just easier to expel things from your mind. Then I reflect on "Loves me, loves me not," and wonder if its accuracy is to be always trusted.
11:03 - I get to the library, and then go to the bathroom.
11:15 - I catch up on what I've been doing today.
11:20 - I help an old man by changing quarters for a dollar.
11:35 - I finish catching up, and start listening to my iPod again.
11:37 - I crack open my photojournalism book to start studying for tonight. "Open Arms" by Journey.
12:35 - I finish chapter one and consider lunch, transferring, and meeting with Jeff. "Here's to the Night" by Eve 6.
12:50 - The next person on duty arrives. Now to lunch. "Into the Ocean" by Blue October.
12:59 - I set my breaded chicken sandwich down next to my sun chips and drink. Immediately, I go to Academic Support to see if I can get a transfer thing going.
1:02 - The woman I need to talk to is in a Safe Space Training seminar. My heart smiles, and I go to get my mail.
1:05 - There's a reminder to help with the blood drive, a packet of the available interterm classes this January, and a form for off-campus cultural events in my box.
1:11 - I finish my sandwich and return the form to the Academic Support desk. The woman I need to talk to is still not back. "Be Yourself" by Audioslave.
1:15 - My iPod reminds me of my meeting with Jeff. Off I go. "Dare You To Move" by Switchfoot.
1:25 - I make a pitstop in my room to drop off my coat, photojournalism book, chips, and mailbox stuffers. I pick up a notebook with a hard cover, and my cell phone. No new calls since I put it on the charger. "Nowhere Near" by Summercamp.
1:30 - I arrive outside of Jeff's door. On the way over, I see a guy running in a bit of a baseball outfit, and am reminded of the assignment in photojournalism I have yet to attempt. "Crazy" by Alanis Morissette.
1:34 - I decide to check up on the news. "Breathe" by Anna Nalick.
1:47 - Jeff comes to talk to me after I've been waiting. The problem is what I thought it would be: American Government. "Hallelujah" by John Cale.
1:52 - Chet comes into the office. I scare him away with my awesome machismo.
1:55 - I leave Jeff's office for Dr. Hill's. He isn't in at the moment, so I remind myself to go down again Wednesday afternoon. "Life is a Highway" by Rascal Flatts.
1:58 - I go to the SLO again to declare my intention to transfer at the semester. "Are You Happy Now?" by Michelle Branch.
1:59 - I run into Dr. Hill outside of the SLO, and walking back to his office, he informs me that my debate paper will schew my grade greatly. He also tells me that my study habits may be lackluster now that I'm not in high school anymore. My idea to have him think I'm a freshman continues to amuse.
2:10 - I leave Dr. Hill's office and get back to my room.
2:13 - I sit at my desk and continue to chronicle.
2:26 - Now to get that sports photo. "Higher Ground" by Red Hot Chili Peppers.
2:38 - I am reminded of the basis behind my passionate hatred of sports and sports photography. The smell of cinnamon reminds me of my cookies. "Yesterdays" by Switchfoot.
2:43 - I run across my fourth student tour of the day. Walking past, I can't help but think what fun it would be to etch "RUN" in red ink on multiple scrawls of paper and leave them where I know touring students would find them.
2:46 - I grab some fiber cookies.
2:58 - I recall the presence of an airport in Crete, and stakeout for skydivers. "Move Along" by All-American Rejects.
3:08 - I snap a photo of two joggers. Not what I had come for, but whatevs. "Someday" by Nickelback.
3:18 - I get back to my room and watch an episode of Avatar before voice seminar. "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5.
3:52 - Avatar is still awesome, but now for the seminar.
4:03 - I get to the seminar, which Hannah Jo Smith promises will be short.
4:12 - We get out of the seminar, but not before Hannah Jo frightens my soul to its core.
4:15 - On the way back to the dorm, Tyler tells me about how one of his voice lessons with Hannah Jo was nothing but him exploding over a ton of pent-up emotions, and then crying. I suddenly realize just how strong our will to pretend that we aren't bothered by something can sometimes be, and how unhealthy it is to let those emotions all come out at the same time. Yet we all engage in the act of pretending that things don't get to us. Chekov! How right Chekov was!
4:21 - I start typing an article for American Govt.'s class tomorrow. "Poison Kiss" by The Last Goodnight.
4:49 - I finish typing my article. In printing it out, I run into Aaron Holmes, whom I try to help set up his computer to print from Frees lab. We fail.
5:00 - Aaron, Ben-Kaye, and I go to eat in the caf. We run into other AπEs there and discuss interterm options.
5:35 - I find myself unable to eat another bite of my pizza. Most of the AπEs have left, so I go to get an ice cream cone and sit with Liz, Zach, and Chanel.
5:45 - After regaling Liz and Zach with what happened today, I feel a MIGHTY NEED to use the bathroom once more.
5:50 - I go to the bathroom, but see Ben-Kaye and Aaron playing billiards, and decide to photograph them for my sports assignment.
6:00 - I go to the bathroom. It doesn't feel good.
6:10 - I head back to my room after photographing Aaron and Ben-Kaye at fußball.
6:15 - Off to rehearsal. My stomach is still sick.
6:27 - I get to the Con. I go to the bathroom.
6:54 - I begin getting actual staging in Arabian Nights. I don't have my script on me tonight. I lost it between yesterday and today.
6:59 - I go to photojournalism class. Midterm today. Hoorah.
7:07 - Richard hands out the test to Layne and I.
7:25 - I finish bombing the test.
7:54 - Class is dismissed. I hang out for a second.
9:19 - Rehearsal is done for the night. I go back to my room.
9:30 - I make it back to my room and log onto Adium for the night. I might do my German homework (and by might, I mean should), but today was way too hectic...
Saturday, October 6
Now they're going to bed, and my stomach is sick.
Weekends, it seems are stacked against me. Around 11:00 last night, I got back to my room to find that my carpet had peed on itself. Now, my first instinct was to say, "Sweet holy crap," or something to that effect. And then I of course went to tell my friends what had happened, but abruptly followed that up with finding an RA to inform. I mean, it's not every day your floor pees on itself. It's something that ought to be checked on to ensure that you only need to walk through it to get into (and out of [and into {and out of (and into)}]) and out of on one night's occasion. So with any luck, that floor will be potty-trained within the span of a few days now.
In the meantime, my colon is either very happy to be doing its job, or so vindictive that it's trying to kill any semblance of comfort that sitting used to afford. I suppose I should be happy if it's happy, but something tells me that that isn't the case.
I'm also in a bit of a pickle with regards to something I thought was a blessing up until last night. See, I was contacted through Facebook about a show that will be running in Lincoln starting January, that pays -- money -- and that is casting this weekend. I wasn't contacted by the director directly, but when I called her and told her who had referred me, she was abundantly excited to have me come and audition for the show. We agreed that I'd come at 3:00 today, and so I set about the process of being excited and hoping that I could find somebody to give me a ride there. And it was roughly an hour after I discovered that my floor can't hold its water that I remembered that I am scheduled to work in the library from 1:00 to 5:00 today. So now the problem extends past simply finding a ride there, but also to finding people to cover at least three hours of my shift. This one falls under "by the grace of Jesus" that it'll happen, if it happens.
But nothing compares to finding out that "Someone That You're With" by Nickelback perfectly summarizes that feeling in the pit of your stomach. And there's a part of me that's angry, and a part of me that's nervous, and another part of me that wants to explode into beautiful lyrics and poetry, like this:
My body is timid
And my fortune is trifling
And my home is tiny
And my accomplishments are temporary
But my mind is a tower
And my emotions are a torrent
And my life is a tapestry
And my heart is a tree
And you... are my most-sought treasure.
I thought of that today, and I don't pretend to be a poet. Or a lyricist. But they say that when you're overcome with a powerful emotion such as love, you find the strength to do extraordinary things, like lift a car off of your child, or overcome the flames in a burning building and rescue them before the place comes down on the both of you. I guess that since I don't have any real strength over anyone, other than the way I view the world (the only thing I truly consider special about myself), I end up being able to weave words together... for an audience that is unlikely to ever hear them.
How the hell did Shakespeare find a woman AND a man to love him?
In the meantime, my colon is either very happy to be doing its job, or so vindictive that it's trying to kill any semblance of comfort that sitting used to afford. I suppose I should be happy if it's happy, but something tells me that that isn't the case.
I'm also in a bit of a pickle with regards to something I thought was a blessing up until last night. See, I was contacted through Facebook about a show that will be running in Lincoln starting January, that pays -- money -- and that is casting this weekend. I wasn't contacted by the director directly, but when I called her and told her who had referred me, she was abundantly excited to have me come and audition for the show. We agreed that I'd come at 3:00 today, and so I set about the process of being excited and hoping that I could find somebody to give me a ride there. And it was roughly an hour after I discovered that my floor can't hold its water that I remembered that I am scheduled to work in the library from 1:00 to 5:00 today. So now the problem extends past simply finding a ride there, but also to finding people to cover at least three hours of my shift. This one falls under "by the grace of Jesus" that it'll happen, if it happens.
But nothing compares to finding out that "Someone That You're With" by Nickelback perfectly summarizes that feeling in the pit of your stomach. And there's a part of me that's angry, and a part of me that's nervous, and another part of me that wants to explode into beautiful lyrics and poetry, like this:
My body is timid
And my fortune is trifling
And my home is tiny
And my accomplishments are temporary
But my mind is a tower
And my emotions are a torrent
And my life is a tapestry
And my heart is a tree
And you... are my most-sought treasure.
I thought of that today, and I don't pretend to be a poet. Or a lyricist. But they say that when you're overcome with a powerful emotion such as love, you find the strength to do extraordinary things, like lift a car off of your child, or overcome the flames in a burning building and rescue them before the place comes down on the both of you. I guess that since I don't have any real strength over anyone, other than the way I view the world (the only thing I truly consider special about myself), I end up being able to weave words together... for an audience that is unlikely to ever hear them.
How the hell did Shakespeare find a woman AND a man to love him?
Wednesday, October 3
Blogging from bed
I'm sitting in front of my computer, typing this out on my iPod, not because it's fun to do so (though it is pretty fun), but rather because my computer can't connect to the internet and my iPod can. Oh, there goes the internet on my computer.
Okay, now I'm on my bed. Typing this out on my iPod. And this thing is just amazing. It holds all of my music (that I listen to), most of my movies (which I can swap out when I feel so inclined), and more amazingly, I'm typing this blog out on it. I'm logged on to the Internet with my iPod (which knows what I meant to type when I accidentally hit a wrong button or two on its keyboard.
But that I'd only a pre-tangent to what I want to write about today. See, I was listening to my music after classes this morning, and I don't think it's uncommon to feel like your music know how you feel and finds the appropriate songs to bolster whatever feeling you're ... well, feeling.
My iPod takes it a step further, and seems to predict what I'm about to feel (just like it predicts what I'm about to type). Let me run down the situation: I frequently listen to this thing now that I have it, and lemme get this out of the way, I don't have that many love songs. At all. I'd say most of my music is general rock affair, with maybe an eighth of it being love songs. I also have roughly 500 songs on here. An eighth of 500 is 62, which I just figured out on this thing's calculator.
Of that, it seems that this thing knows when I'm ABOUT to run into somebody I like. Because it'll start playing an appropriate song before we even cross each other's paths.
And this is another one of those mysteries of life that I just have no clue as to what I'm supposed to make of this. Is this God? Is this Satan? Is this just my imagination or mind or heart or whatever department it is that handles this kind of thing in my body? Who is playing this joke on me, and for what audience?
And more importantly, what do I do? I've already made a move, way back ago, and it didn't end well. So my natural instinct is to just let this all slide and forget that it ever happened (happens). But what if that's the wrong move? Would I know what an idiot I was? Or would by hoping that things can move forward and making the same move twice would I be made all the bigger a fool for not realizing my folly the first time?
I say this now to represent my despair: Grah.
Okay, now I'm on my bed. Typing this out on my iPod. And this thing is just amazing. It holds all of my music (that I listen to), most of my movies (which I can swap out when I feel so inclined), and more amazingly, I'm typing this blog out on it. I'm logged on to the Internet with my iPod (which knows what I meant to type when I accidentally hit a wrong button or two on its keyboard.
But that I'd only a pre-tangent to what I want to write about today. See, I was listening to my music after classes this morning, and I don't think it's uncommon to feel like your music know how you feel and finds the appropriate songs to bolster whatever feeling you're ... well, feeling.
My iPod takes it a step further, and seems to predict what I'm about to feel (just like it predicts what I'm about to type). Let me run down the situation: I frequently listen to this thing now that I have it, and lemme get this out of the way, I don't have that many love songs. At all. I'd say most of my music is general rock affair, with maybe an eighth of it being love songs. I also have roughly 500 songs on here. An eighth of 500 is 62, which I just figured out on this thing's calculator.
Of that, it seems that this thing knows when I'm ABOUT to run into somebody I like. Because it'll start playing an appropriate song before we even cross each other's paths.
And this is another one of those mysteries of life that I just have no clue as to what I'm supposed to make of this. Is this God? Is this Satan? Is this just my imagination or mind or heart or whatever department it is that handles this kind of thing in my body? Who is playing this joke on me, and for what audience?
And more importantly, what do I do? I've already made a move, way back ago, and it didn't end well. So my natural instinct is to just let this all slide and forget that it ever happened (happens). But what if that's the wrong move? Would I know what an idiot I was? Or would by hoping that things can move forward and making the same move twice would I be made all the bigger a fool for not realizing my folly the first time?
I say this now to represent my despair: Grah.
Sunday, September 23
It's not every day you have a day this bad.
I'm currently sitting in work-study and listening to Switchfoot (I finally got The Beautiful Letdown after turning 20, meaning that I now have all six studio albums Switchfoot's released so far). Funny story about listening to Switchfoot. As I was doing so, a girl asked me for help, which prompted me to get up, and since my MP3 player was in my lap, it hit the ground with a very satisfying thud.
I would be doing something more productive than listening to music today. It was my plan to do so since I woke up. But when I started to look for my backpack earlier this afternoon, I realized that it wasn't in my room. Which means that it's in one of infinite places that aren't my room. Hopefully, though, the thing and the $200 worth of textbooks inside it are safely in the Student Leadership Office (which happens to be closed on Sundays) or in the last classroom I had it (which happens to be locked on days when there isn't a class in it). Either way, I'm very certainly not going to get my homework done for my gauntlet tomorrow.
Speaking of homework, I also have a "portrait" due in photojournalism tomorrow night. To clarify what a portrait is, it's a photograph of somebody which tells a story of some important facet of their persona. It was my idea that I would go down to the local thrift shop and get a shot of the woman who runs the place. She seems like a nice old lady, and plus I got a kickin' Hamtaro lunchbox from that place for only a quarter... You'll never guess what's closed on Sundays. Go on, guess.
And I'm not complaining, but does anyone else ever talk to somebody online and then get a phone call from them, without having a clue as to how your number made it into their posession?
Oh, the decision of whether I get my iPod Touch now or in October has also been made for me: Best Buy is out of them, and there's very little way in Heck I'm going to ask somebody to drive me to Omaha so that I can make a $318 purchase. I know that it's selfish to be bitter about something like this, but jeez... I really wanted this iPod, you know?
I think that just about the only thing I can take solace in this weekend is the fact that I'm on the cusp of finishing writing a song, which will mean that I've written three songs since February. Unfortunately, this is a bittersweet piece of news in and of itself, as it seems like the only time I can really write a song is when I'm experiencing unrequited love, and anybody who's fallen head-over-heels (isn't the head... generally over the heels?) for somebody else can tell you that it's just agony trying to keep all of the feelings inside (hence the songwriting), and not knowing what steps you can possibly take in order to make yourself clear. Worse still... is when you make yourself clear, and you're told that it isn't the right time for them to be in a relationship. Incidentally, this plays into Linger, by The Cranberries (my Switchfoot wrapped up a little bit before writing this half of this paragraph.
You know I'm such a fool for you
You've got me wrapped around your finger
Do you have to let it linger?
Man, does it suck. Why is it that some things can't have definition? Why do we have to wait for things to take shape? Why am I getting stalker-like phone calls? Why is my backpack going to be locked in a room until it's too late for me to do my homework? Why do I space out and drop my MP3 player on the floor?
September... just sucks.
I would be doing something more productive than listening to music today. It was my plan to do so since I woke up. But when I started to look for my backpack earlier this afternoon, I realized that it wasn't in my room. Which means that it's in one of infinite places that aren't my room. Hopefully, though, the thing and the $200 worth of textbooks inside it are safely in the Student Leadership Office (which happens to be closed on Sundays) or in the last classroom I had it (which happens to be locked on days when there isn't a class in it). Either way, I'm very certainly not going to get my homework done for my gauntlet tomorrow.
Speaking of homework, I also have a "portrait" due in photojournalism tomorrow night. To clarify what a portrait is, it's a photograph of somebody which tells a story of some important facet of their persona. It was my idea that I would go down to the local thrift shop and get a shot of the woman who runs the place. She seems like a nice old lady, and plus I got a kickin' Hamtaro lunchbox from that place for only a quarter... You'll never guess what's closed on Sundays. Go on, guess.
And I'm not complaining, but does anyone else ever talk to somebody online and then get a phone call from them, without having a clue as to how your number made it into their posession?
Oh, the decision of whether I get my iPod Touch now or in October has also been made for me: Best Buy is out of them, and there's very little way in Heck I'm going to ask somebody to drive me to Omaha so that I can make a $318 purchase. I know that it's selfish to be bitter about something like this, but jeez... I really wanted this iPod, you know?
I think that just about the only thing I can take solace in this weekend is the fact that I'm on the cusp of finishing writing a song, which will mean that I've written three songs since February. Unfortunately, this is a bittersweet piece of news in and of itself, as it seems like the only time I can really write a song is when I'm experiencing unrequited love, and anybody who's fallen head-over-heels (isn't the head... generally over the heels?) for somebody else can tell you that it's just agony trying to keep all of the feelings inside (hence the songwriting), and not knowing what steps you can possibly take in order to make yourself clear. Worse still... is when you make yourself clear, and you're told that it isn't the right time for them to be in a relationship. Incidentally, this plays into Linger, by The Cranberries (my Switchfoot wrapped up a little bit before writing this half of this paragraph.
You know I'm such a fool for you
You've got me wrapped around your finger
Do you have to let it linger?
Man, does it suck. Why is it that some things can't have definition? Why do we have to wait for things to take shape? Why am I getting stalker-like phone calls? Why is my backpack going to be locked in a room until it's too late for me to do my homework? Why do I space out and drop my MP3 player on the floor?
September... just sucks.
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