Twenty-Ten

Time for that obligatory moment of reflection that comes with this passing of time, as we not only pass forth into another year but into a new decade.
2009 was a good year. I mean, it had ups and downs. Some of the downs were pretty low, but I cannot forget the times I smiled. I turned 21 in Chicago, surrounded by some pretty spectacular people. I went to NYC, which I set up all by myself and was able to acquire room with great people (versus paying tons of money on some shitty hotel.)  I had many an exploit in The City (Chicago,) meeting some pretty cool people during the Spring months. I lost a shit ton of weight, and I've worked on further bettering myself as an individual; which was marked by my cousin David noting how I have become "a man." I mean, when the hell did that happen? When did I grow up?
Sure, this year had some lows; but the fact that I have made my way through them only shows that I was a survivor, that I took my licks and hopefully took away a lesson or two. I think that's how I've felt most about this year. I feel that it's really been transformative. I've really developed myself into who I want to be for the rest of my life. A lot of the ways I've wanted to be, I've been that guy. I got the tattoos I've wanted, bought the clothes I've wanted, planned the trips I've wanted to go on, etc, etc. I've made so much happen, and it's really been empowering.
And so in this final hour of 2009, I happily greet the new decade, but bid a grateful farewell to that which I leave behind.

Hide And Seek

Breann and I have known each other for quite a while, now. This picture was sent to me a year ago, where she is wearing the bracelet I gave to her. We had had a short falling out before this picture, and she was showing me that she'd held on to it.

Breann is the most secure friendship I have. Not because it is without fights or problems. Bre and I have probably stopped talking more times than anyone I know (like the story I mentioned above.) But that's just how we work. We argue, we go back to our separate corners, and then we go back to being close friends again. And that process of coming back, the way we return to each other so willingly, that is what shows our closeness.

Bre and I are the antithesis of one another, in some ways. She's a Conservative, card-carrying Republican, and I'm a Liberal, Tree-hugging something-or-other. And we end up picking fights with each other whenever we get stressed, fighting for no real reason other than because we know we can. We drive each other crazy, and yet there is no mean spiritedness in it. There is no malice. The arguments are hollow, this game is childish at best, meant to only work as an outlet for our tensions and not to harm the other. And really, we both know this.

Bre isn't perfect. Neither am I. She's crazy, I'm crazy. But somehow we've always found comfort in each other. When Bre attempted suicide, I was the last person she spoke with. I wasn't very kind, because I knew she had been abusing medication. I told her if she wanted to kill her pain so badly to use a drug like alcohol, where she would at least know what organ she was damaging. So much frustration, and those could have been my final words to her; the final words she ever heard.

I don't like thinking about that. I appreciate that she survived. I like having her in my life, because I can count on her. We're loyal to each other, if nothing else.
If I believe that there is some kind of fate to things, that some of us are tied to one another in some kind of cosmic fashion, I believe that about Breann and myself. The two of us meeting through random connections, sometimes afraid that she could hurt me, somehow we still ended up cradling the other; talking late into the night, as she fell asleep on the end of the line, making me swear not to stay on the line. She'd swear she wasn't tired, swear she just wanted to keep talking.

I'm not going to hang up the phone, Bre. Not until you're fast asleep, and I know you're safe. I'm not going anywhere.

"No lists of things to be done. The day providential to itself. The hour. There is no later. This is later. All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one’s heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes. So, he whispered to the sleeping boy. I have you."
Cormac McCarthy, pg. 54, The Road

Prose

The sun was the one star in the sky I kept, and you were my sun. And I found that every day I lived in fear of the night, and in the night I sat shivering. Where were the other twinkling lights of the evening? Kept away by the sun's fire. So alone I was all those nights, longing for the warmth I was given on the schedule of day and night. I never had a choice. I had no say. Only the sun decided when it rose and sat. But what if one could learn to live in an eternal night? What if you wish to be reunited in dark union? The void could be your Confessor.

Secular Celebrations in Christendom

It was the archetype of Midwestern Days: smokey skies on the crest of the sun.
Christmas day, 2009.
I didn't have much to ask for this year,  there was not much I wanted
I didn't even make a list, but I got it all. Everything.
I had my family's love

No matter the circumstances, our family always has a good time; come rain or come shine.  It is no Christmas Miracle that things be that way.  We're just lucky. To have the family we have, so full of love.

It's 4am.

She texts me in the night.
She flirts. I flirt back, and ask,
Are you into me? Is that what this is?
A long pause before her response.
Why do you need to know?
I don't need to know, I say. Just curious.
Well, she says.
I like the way you treat me. And sometimes I think of what it would be like to lie there, head on your chest, watching a movie off of your favorites list.
Really? I say.
And kissing you, she says.
I smile and trace the outline of the screen of my phone. We have known each other so long. I have wanted her for so long.
Maybe if things were different, I say.
Yeah, she says, maybe sometime.
I sit in the silence, when my phone buzzes.
No matter what I will be here, she says.
I wanted to find the words to say the same.
She smiles.
I smile.

From: The Road by Cormac McCarthy

“And then later in the darkness: Can I ask you something?
Yes, of course you can.
What would you do if I died?
If you died I would want to die too.
So you could be with me?
Yes. So I could be with you.
Okay.”

"Did you think I could hate you
Or raise my hands to you?
Now come on, you know me too well
How could I hurt you,
when darling, I love you
And you know I'd never, never hurt you."
- Billy Vera, At This Moment.

Mmmm, Toasty.

I'm caught up on Mad Men, having watched Seasons 1, 2, and 3.  Now I've wrapped Dexter Season 3, and am on the verge of beginning Season 4. Jordan (male) texted me, anxious to see if I'd started Season 4. He's excited to talk to me about it.
I like having these kinds of shows to come home to, each night - something to tuck under the warm covers and watch.

I also need to start burning CDs, tonight, for my family's Xmas gifts. I need to wrap this up, because I'm going out there tomorrow night, and I might just stay up in Rockton (slumber-party style) until after Xmas. Seeing as I still don't have a car of my own, yet, and probably won't for a little while longer. Until whenever my mom is ready to pay to have it towed up to Rockton. Having it toward from DeKalb already cost she and I a fortune (seeing as how we split it.) 

Kim and I spent time together, today, with Matt. We did some Xmas Shopping for Kim's family. Good times. I bought us all some Quiznos for dinner. I hadn't had Quiznos in a long time.

The Event Horizon

There's a point when you just can't let things bother you anymore. A point when you go from being affected to becoming calloused, almost apathetic. I suppose it's a defense mechanism of sorts.
I know that's beginning to set in for me, as we near 2010. I think of how little drama I would like to deal with in 2010, and the ways I intend on avoiding it; mostly by refusing to engage.

I'm thinking of a lot of new things to take place in 2010, including some regression backward into who I once was. I feel like I lost a lot of who I've been, someone who worked hard to do what was right; someone who worked to be "morally brave." This last year, I've lied, stolen, cheated; I had started down a road that was shameful, at best. And I found reasons to justify my behavior, but I knew better. And that's something I've learned, that I need to trust my instincts; if I have to justify things to myself, I need to take a step back and analyze the situation. Like the lies I told to get out of class, including using death as a reason to get out of class. How could I? There is a reverence in death. It needs to be respected. People suffered from her death, and I exploited that. I used the reverence felt by teachers, I took advantage of it. And for what? To get out of a day's class. I'm really ashamed of that.
I'm done with these manipulative games. Living this life of seeking self-gain, it's been damaging to my soul. So I need to go back to being honorable: telling the truth, being compassionate, being reverent of life and death. I'm too old to act as selfishly as I have. I'm too old for excuses. My friends tried to just roll with it, taking a "to each his own" attitude. But they didn't really like who I was becoming. I feel embarrassed knowing that. Knowing how I'd behaved. But 2010 is a new year, and I intend to make the most of it.

I don't know how I take Kim for granted like I do. She's been the best person I know.
She has loved me since I was that chubby boy in the plaid shirts and awkward work boots; when I lacked style, nerve, and direction. I was this little broken sparrow, and she just took me as I was. She didn't try to change me. She didn't make me cooler. I was accepted for what I was.
And she's just rolled with the changes. She just let me be. She took care of me when I went mad. She forgave me when I was short tempered, in love with a woman who was tearing me apart. She's been there 24/7.
I can't repay her.

The thing about war...

...is that we forget that there are casualties on both sides.

G'Night.

We live in this world where we cannot fall asleep from the thoughts in our heads. Not philosophical thoughts, mind you. Thoughts of worry. We can't sleep because we fear this yet undetermined future, what it could do to us. It's all such bullshit. But I will gulp my vodka down, and sip the chaser. And I will take that as a metaphor for life.

Let me sleep.

5 Days.

I'm preparing myself for Christmas, and it feels really nice. I've decided to wear what I wore to the Van Camp wedding, my white shirt and red tie - only I don't know if I'm going to tuck it in. We'll see. That'll be my Christmas Eve outfit, seeing as how Eve always seems to be a more formal affair than the next morning.  I've also decided that this year I am going to bring something to Christmas Eve. I've chosen Hot Buttered Rum. We're all adults now. The youngest, Emily, is 17 years old. I think we're all at an age where we can begin to be more adult. I mean, last year, we spent Christmas Eve talking about how pot should be legalized. If my white-collar, straight-laced family can have that discussion, they need to learn to drink more than wine or an occasional beer. I'm happy to prepare the lesson plan.
I still need to wrap the gifts that I have purchased, but I suppose I can do that over the weekend.

Damn Hipsters. Damn Yuppies. Damn Old People.

We’re all “damn” something or others, all part of some group that is going to be disliked and marginalized by one person or the next.
So you might as well be yourself, and be disliked for being something real. Right?

Update of Self

I wish things could've been different.

Then again, I don't know the greater consequences of my wish.

If you're using me, do it slowly. Make it last until I have to go.

I don't feel very well, suddenly, this evening. I think I've stressed by body too much over the last 24-hours. I haven't slept much at all, and I was out in the cold a lot. I really should crawl in bed, and I don't think my body wants to hear another word about it.

Adri's father was in an accident, today. His car was struck by a train, going 140kph. Apparently he was in bad shape. She seemed to be reacting like.... well, like someone whose dad was just nearly killed. I hope that he recovers, for her sake. I hope that she finds comfort in whatever she must.

Sometimes I am surprised by how closely my voice resembles my dad's. Sometimes I say something and it's like I can hear him. I wonder, when he dies, what that will be like; hearing the voice of a ghost, coming from my own lips.

I can't wait until my family is all in town. My cousins really are a lot of fun. My cousin Sara and I used to bicker something awful at times, growing up. We were the exact same age; she was the youngest, and I was an only child. I think that left us both kind of headstrong and independent, which left us battling for leadership. But now, she and I get along quite well, and it's really refreshing.
I can't wait. To see all of them. We're going to all have so much to share.

Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?

It's like the lifting of a fog. Only it's not that enjoyable. No, it is more like having the Novocaine wear off.
I come to a realization, but it isn't unfamiliar. It isn't something that I haven't told myself a thousand times before. It is something that I knew, only something that I tried convincing myself otherwise; because when I before believed it, there was a blinding pain that came along with it.
It's so hard when you're emotionally tied, when you allow yourself creative, elaborate justifications for actions you know to be untrue in their end. You keep acting on these feelings, knowing that they are the realest thing you feel, but not accepting that they are only so true because everything else is a lie.
I've been forced to let go of my pipe-dream, lately, and people keep telling me... and well, showing me... how liberating this really is. And it really is, only that one still looks back on the Grad Illusion and wishes it could have been true. It's hard to let go of a dream like that. It's hard to wake up on a rainy day.

No Cars Go

Tonight is freezing. It's 1-degree, and it feels below that.
This morning I drove into DeKalb to hang out with M, Jordan, and Marta. I felt bad, because Stephen texted me and asked to hang out - of course, on the first day I've been away.
Marta and I went out for dinner and some drinks, as Jordan stayed home and gamed with some of the Durand guys, online. It was a good time, even though the bartender didn't know how to make an Old Fashioned. Marta had a Long Island and a couple Stone sours. I stuck with whiskey, as well.
I spent time back at her apartment, with Ryan and she, until about 9pm. I drove back, calling M, telling her that a Harry Potter night was in order. But of course, just as I came to pick her up, my car started to act up. I'll summarize, but basically a good 30min of my night, tonight, was spent pushing my old wagon around, M at the helm, and random strangers helping me to push. My poor car. She tries really hard. I hope to find out what troubles her.
The cold was bitter. Jesus, was it awful. M and I got to my apartment, and we were running the last few feet. We spent the following 10min inside tending to our frozen parts, waiting for the feeling to return.
Once we could feel our extremities, we had a really good time. We decorated a Gingerbread House (if you were to eat it, it is 3,000 calories!!,) made pistachio pudding, and watched Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.
It's been a really good break so far (YAY for passing Spanish!!) Its been so comforting. Next week my family comes in, which is always a really good time, and who knows what else is going to happen in the next few weeks.

Macaroni Heart

We set it in the back of our mind,
like a project we intend to finish, but do not presently have the time
We keep a hold of it, like a trinket
a postcard from a long trip, which we’d sent to ourselves
We look at it every moment or so,
we thinking of how we ought to revisit it, and yet we never do
and we know it is for the best

Because the truth of it, in our heart of hearts
we know, she no longer loves us
We believe her to be the woman we knew
but she’s become something else entirely:
a lover, a mother, a student
or most disturbingly,
a friend

Do we just forget?
No, we do not
We cannot forget, like we cannot unknow Columbus setting sail in 1492
It is history, a wrinkle on our face that reminds us
of the laughter, anger, angst, joy, and pain
of everything she has made us feel,
and then some

Why Violence?

I have found that nothing leaves me passionate the way non-violence does, the discussion over the need of violence and its practical uses. I see no need, no good in the use of force; I see harm, injury, and murder, even in defense, as nothing more than evil and retributive.
We are not animals, we know better than wolves and lions about the greater damages our outbursts cause; we are aware that being quick to anger, able to cause harm may not hurt our bodies, but do damage our souls (if such things can exist.)
Violence has never set right with me, always being a great cause of distress: knowing of how people hurt one another, especially physically, and even witnessing it myself. I always found myself instinctively heartbroken by such aberrations, which never made sense to me. Why would causing harm ever be good? It made no sense to me in the form of punishment, even when used as a way of "preventing" further wrong-doings. To me, I felt that forgiveness and rehabilitation always made more sense; beliving that men are generally well meaning, if selfish, but that men are not trying to do evil - if anything, they are only as children: short-sighted in seeing how their self-interest can cause a greater harm to those around them.
I've often felt moved by the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, as well as those of Ghandi and Tolstoy. They have all professed love over violence, asking their followers to do no harm - even against those who may harm them. Tolstoy often cited the Quakers, who as Christian men took the teachings of Jesus to be quite clear. Matthew 5:39, "But I say, do not resist an evil person! If someone slaps you on the right cheek, offer the other cheek also."  To the Quakers, to Tolstoy, and to Gandhi (moved by Tolstoy,) agreed with these sentiments. To not cause harm to one who acts evilly, but forgive them, love them, and bless them.
I find comfort in these men, who have come before me in a time when violence was even more justified. I take their words as solace, as I resist the same things they did: war, vengeance, capital punishment, corporal punishment, mass incarceration, and terror. How have we not learned by now, when we are always claiming progress and a new dawn for modernity? Have we made progress, because I do not see it. I see the same excuses for our actions, when there are no reasons as to why using force is good.

Hunger hurts, but I want him so bad, oh it kills

I've begun to watch Mad Men: Season One. It's a fantastic show. I wasn't sure if I would get into it, but it really is fantastic. It's full of characters that you might find difficult to like: womanizers, adulterers, cut-throat business men, Republicans, etc (hehe, jk.) But in the end, they reveal how vulnerable each of these characters is, and show you how to like every one of them.
The show is also full of interesting social issues, as the world of 1960 finds progress being made in the world; homosexuality, educated/strong women, divorce, the need for psychiatry, etc. You find these people being challenged, their hegemonic lifestyle being faced with change. I've always found Post-WWII society to be such a fascinating era, the way we have written it as this Golden Age.

Also, my mom and I shared this little moment today. It was this moment where, I could tell, we saw how we both share the same human experience. We were talking about love, and how you love someone long after you're with them; how it carries on with you. It was a nice moment, and it's been that way more often. Because there was definitely a time when my mother and I fought more than we did talk. And can my mother and I fight. My mom and I fighting would be quite the spectacle, if we were to ever fight outside of privacy. She likes to raise her voice, which I rarely find a use for. That's how you know when you have breached me, when I have started to raise my voice. Even my temper is often silent, up until the point of my feeling violent - which takes a lot. But sometimes, if you can get me in just the right emotional mood, I can't help but begin to raise my voice. But it's only with people I love, with people I believe I'm safe enough to be that uninhibited with.

Love was Invented to Sell Nylons

Today was one of those days that I appreciate having a station wagon. All of my doors were so frozen shut that I couldn't open them. This would often leave one shit out of luck. But instead, as I have done before, I opened the glass on the back hatch, crawled over the back seat, and then kicked the door open from the inside. Even that wasn't easy, with how frozen the doors were, but it did work in the end.

Also, I went to Barnes & Noble with Marta and ran into Martha. I've never understood why she targeted me as someone to playfully antagonize, when I've always been such a quiet person; but, that aside, today I felt free to give her hell. Marta was very glad to learn that we knew each other, seeing as how we were treating each other - not the average customer-employee relationship.

I'm still waiting for all of my grades to pour in. A little anxiety.

I need to crash. I was up at 7:30am, in order to help avert disaster, and now it's caught up with me.

You Need Not Find a Cure For Everything That Makes You Weak.

Tonight is cozy, knowing that the storm is wrapping the outer walls of my apartment like a blanket. I feel so safe, with no place to go; and I don't even need to start a car for days, if I don't want to. I have all I need. Everything I need is right here.
I've been missing Rev. John Ames, the character of my last book, and I'm eager to begin reading another. But I have chosen to put off reading until all of my finals are over, so I can focus on my studies. But, even while I wait, I have anticipated a few books that I'd like to consume over break. The main one being The Kingdom of God is Within You by Tolstoy. I've owned it for a couple years now, but I've never made it all the way through. It is quite dense. But I know that is has been catalyst for the beliefs of both Gandhi and Dr. King both, and am very interested in actually taking it all in. I also have a book by Dr. King that I'd also like to read this break. I'm trying to take in some solid intellectual texts that have been by some of the most influential thinkers for non-violence and pacifism of the last 100+ years. I'm unsure of what else I might read in those areas.
I'd also be curious, at some point, reading more religious texts: The Qur'an, the Book of Mormon, The Gospel of Thomas, God Speaks, Tao Te Ching, and the Gnostic Gospels to begin.

Magic

You're the best part of my day and you don't even know. I don't think I'd want you to, which is the funny thing. I like the sport of it. I like that you're fulfilling my wish without meaning to. It's like magic, this way.

Laughing with a Mouth of Blood

It was hard for me to fall asleep, last night. This time it was not from stress, but from a nap I took between the hours of 7:30 and 11:30pm. It was alcohol induced, after spending the day with Jordan and Marta, and starting drinking at 3pm. It was fun, and we had a good time, but it did leave my internal clock messed up.
When I woke up, I found that Jordan and Nick (home from work) were plastered. So, getting up from the couch, I told Marta that I would be going home. My mind was clear, except the hangover that was already setting in. I should have known better. I never drink, so my body took a real hit.

Also, Colleen wrote me and asked if we could go together to the U.U. church in Rockford. It was a really welcome question, considering that I have been looking for someone to go with. Kim had told me that she'd like to keep church something reserved for funerals, and Girl Jordan (even before the Great War) wasn't a candidate because I know her allegiances are solidly with Christianity. Which is fine. But it is what it is.

I've been trying to write up a list of resolutions for the coming year. One being that I would like to attempt to speak ill of no one. I'm not really one to gossip, in many ways, but I do find that can easily get caught up in that sort of crowd - and honestly, I don't really admire it. I just don't see how it serves anyone. So I'd like to do that, if nothing else.

From a Letter to Hungary

I never really understood [the] concept anyhow, How we are expected to know who we are in the course of only one lifetime. I feel like we spend our entire lives learning everyone else, with psychology, sociology, anthropology, when really we'd be better off if we could just know ourselves. That's what they should be teaching us: how to look inside and search our souls for our greatest wants and deepest desires.

I'd Rather Sink in Peace Than Count the Stories as I Fall

A great weight has been lifted, this week. It's felt so nice to reconnect with Marta and Jordan (and the gang,) though I wish that I could still find some more time to see Jenks. Between work and this homework she's left with this semester, I'm not even certain that I will see her before Spring. We shall see. If it is meant to be.
I have also been able to spend much time with M. It's been so strange, this lifestyle change. DeKalb feels fresh and new, like it did last Fall. It feels fun again.

Also, I found out that I'm actually doing pretty well in Spanish, today. So, as long as I don't blow the final, I will still graduate on time. Excellent news.

I've been doing a lot of reading on religion, lately, and it's all because of this book: Gilead. It really has re-opened that interest in me. Today I was reading about the concept of purgatory, of Karl Barth, Nirvana, Limbo, Existentialism, the Summa Theologica, et al.
I've been really interested at trying to educate myself, and I'm hoping to soon visit the Unitarian-Universalist church. I had started to go back on that desire, because of my social anxiety. I had written my friend Jake to tell him that I might just go back to the Christian church he and I (I assume) are both still members of (officially.) But when I wrote him this letter, he responded by telling me that maybe I should try the U.U. church - because my beliefs reflect theirs in many ways, and he thinks that I would feel quite welcome. He seems to know the minister there, and he told me to feel free to arrange a meeting with him.
I felt like Jake mentioning the U.U. church to me without my prompt was some kind of divine affirmation.

Fucked Me Right Up - Sean Hayes

Don't know that she knows
What it is she doing
Don't know that she knows
How deep this will cut
Can't believe you really think
We'll make it through this oh
You fucked me right up
Just fucked me right up

Don't know that she knows
What it is she doing
Don't know that she knows
We are throwing it all away
Tell me how you think
We're gonna make it through this oh
You fucked me right up
Just fucked me right up


Don't know that she knows
Or even if it matters
The cut's been made
The dice have been thrown
What was our love worth
If it's something we could gamble oh
You fucked me right up
Fucked me right up


Goodbye goodbye
Goodbye goodbye

The last few days have been alone.

And alone isn't quite so bad, until it is.
I've been finding it hard to sleep enough as it is, due to the compounded stresses of this semester's end; and the lack of sleep has left me vulnerable to exaggerated fears. And I can hear those fears laughing deep, down in their bellies. It gives me goosebumps.
Last night was especially hard to sleep. I told this to my mom. I felt fear to go up to my bed, where I didn't have the voices of the television. I tried using the radio, but I never wanted to hear the music. I found myself staying awake, waiting for the DJs to come back to talk to me. They did. But it just isn't the same as the television. It just isn't the same as falling asleep to Roseanne and waking up to Dora.