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Post by fico on Jul 13, 2003 16:17:03 GMT -5
It was just... it felt so good. To be a part of something so good. And it felt good that I just jumped over that fence. I had a second thought or two, but it felt good that I didn't mind getting scraped up and possibly hurting an ankle or something in an effort to help. You know? It's so stupid. So sentimental. So self-centered. But it felt good to know I wouldn't hesitate to help someone/something. And it felt good to actually help. All of that was good.
We fed the cat, and he was ravenous. And we jung out with him and pet him and checked him for ticks. And Bet was just... happy.
We hadn't talked for two days. Theo disappeared, and she got mad at me, so I didn't call her. Because when I'm mad, I don't like to talk to people until I'm not mad anymore. Funny, 'cause she got mad at me for not calling to check up on the Theo situation. And she thought I was mad because she'd blown up at me when Theo left, and then I didn't call her for two days. I have to try to remember that, next time Bet and I get in a fight. I have to call her as soon as I'm not mad anymore.
I felt good, though. When she blew up at me, I didn't just take it. I mean, normally, I just sit there. 'Cause I figure who wants to be told they're being a jerk when their cat is gone, you know? But this time, I just kind of explained what I had meant, in a sort of peeved tone. So I told her I was trying to help and how. And I think she got that I was trying to help, and I felt bad about what had happened, and I had confidance, and I also, sorta, kinda, somewhat, didn't appreciate when she yelled at me about something I didn't make happen. And I think she got it.
So... yeah.
And now, Mom is pissing me off like no other. I think one of the worst things parents can do to their kids is blame one for something another one did, or expect something of someone just because another kid can do it. You can't base people on other people, not directly I mean. Like... Okay, so technically, we're always basing things on other people because our standards are based on averages, right? But you can't base things specifically on one person or another. That's not fair.
My mother is the queen of this. I mean, yeah, I know she has good points too, but I'm venting right now. So we're in the car on the way home from church today. And these three bikers pass us. They're all on Harley Davidsons. And I'm like, "Mom, I really want a motorcycle." (This is not out of the blue. I've wanted a motorcycle since I was, like, eight or something. Then I sort of fell out of it. Forgot about it for a few years, mainly because I couldn't drive, and I wanted to take my guitar with me (once I got one), and it was winter a lot, and general things like that. Then, a little while back, I got reminded in this major way. So now I keep mentioning it a lot, just whenever a motorcycle passes or something. I keep talking about it, so that she won't forget.) And she said I didn't need one, or something like that. And I said, "would you mind if I joined a motorcycle gang in Iowa?" And she got that harder edge in her voice, like I'm saying something I shouldn't. (Thing is, I never recognize the edge in time. ) And she says no, certainly not, they tend to take up your life. And I'm like, "come on, just something to do on the weekends." And she said I could study on the weekends. I told her I wouldn't be studying all the time. And she semi-flipped on me and said "No! No! Chandra got wrapped up in JSU in college; Endre got hooked on beer and parties; you are going to do nothing but study in college." And I rounded back at her with a "where did that come from?" and a protest that of course I'm going to do other things. I'll study to, but I'm not only going to do that.
And it's just... it really bothers me that she's just waiting for me to screw up. I mean, I did stuff already that I think shows I'm taking this college thing seriously. I needed a little incentive once or twice, but I asked for it. (That's actually true. I literally went to a friend and asked for them to tell me exactly why I had to study for a scholarship. Was very convincing, too.) And just... I hate that she expects me to screw up, just because they did. I hate that she doesn't recognize me as a different person with my own agenda. I mean, seriously. All I could dream about since I was in 6th grade was when I would be 18 and in college. I swear. Bet used to get so pissed at me because I wouldn't shut up about it sometimes. (She thought I wasn't living my life, since I was so wrapped up in planning the future.) I think I deserve a little more credit than I'm getting. ... No. That's not exactly true. I think I deserve to be judged as my own person, not as the sister of other people. And that's what she's doing. Because it's important to her that we all go to college. So I guess it's ... understandable, or something, that she would look at us as one thing, her offspring, and we're supposed to do good in life, and do it well. And so far, we as one being, have not, not in her eyes anyway. And that's "understandable". But I think everyone has the right to be considered an individual, and I don't think she's respecting that when it comes to us kids.
She and I have been fighting a lot anyway. She's getting a lot more of a backbone, so she speaks up more often. But she says the same shit over and over, and it's always as pointless as the last time she said it.[/size]
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Post by fico on Jul 17, 2003 2:43:15 GMT -5
7.17.o3
THE KITCHEN LIGHT IS MUCH TO BRIGHT FOR WHAT I FIND MYSELF THINKING TONIGHT
Thrus. 3:00am. Rue and I had an interesting discussion last night. Very interesting. It was... strange. But very interesting.
So basically, Rue and I have this very fundamental difference of opinion concerning this one issue, right? And I'm in the minority with this one. Definitely. But anyway.
So we were talking about masturbation. I forget how it actually came up. (Maybe we were talking about porn before masturbation? Not sure.) Because I totally don't get masturbation. Not at all. Not in the least. It's completely pointless to me. And Rue was trying to explain her take on it to me, and I wasn't getting it exactly. I mean, I understood what she said, but it still didn't matter.
I told someone once that I didn't understand masturbation, that I just didn't get it. S/he gave me this really weird look. And the moment was too awkward for me to want to try to explain myself right then. But this is why I love this journal. Because I have all the time I want to explain what I mean. And then people can reply if they think anything is off or whatever.
So I see masturbation as this rip-off of sex, right? It's pretty much this incredibly dull copy of what sex is. (Says the person who's never had sex. ) Because masturbation is pretty much only a physical thing, while sex has this emotional level also, as well as intellectual, since I don't really see sex as a completely silent thing. Sex is just layered in so many things, while masturbation is so boring. It's like it isn't worth the time and effort.
While Rue sees masturbation as very worth while. Because it releaves sexual tension, which can be very good for a situation. And because it's a safe way to experience the physical aspect of sex, without any consequences or anything. But mainly because she sees it as completely unrelated to sex. Masturbation isn't a copy of anything; it's its own thing.
So today, we started a sort of survey. We've started asking people how they view masturbation, and we asked someone what the difference between masturbation and sex was, and things like that. (We're on a sort of "be blunt", "just ask" kick right now. And this is what comes of it. So if we ask any of you any personal questions any time soon, feel free to abstain, but understand that it's because of this kick we're on.)
One person said probably 75% of the population masturbates, another said that much or more. And the two reasons we've come up with to not masturbate are that people think (a) it's not worth it, or (b) it's gross. And so far, the reasons to masturbate are that (a) it releaves tension, (b) it's safe, (c) it's a small amount of effort which gives enough pleasure to make the effort worth it.
I'm just weird, though. Like, physical stuff never really bothers me too much. I've noticed that things like food and whatever are actually important to a lot of people. I only eat because I would die otherwise, and because some food is actually worth the effort. (Like Chinese.) But mostly, food just wastes time. It's like that with masturbation. It's just this physical thing that wastes time, but at least I don't die if I don't get it.
Yeah, anyway. Just wanted to get that all down before I forgot anything. Sorry if I made anyone feel awkward. Sorry if I mis-represented you, Rue.
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Rue and I hung out with Lani yesterday. (Tuesday.) It was cool. Lani and I played chess, which was lots of fun. I like playing with him. Though I really suck at the moment. (I'm not doing well at all in the Gryff/Huff game.) But Lani's fun, and he makes some of the best noises when he's playing. These big loud "doh" type things, and just expressions of pure agony. It's great. And when he gets a piece he wants, he has this loud, boisterous laugh that just rumbles. (I want a deep voice so bad.)
We hung out in his kitchen after we watched a movie (Being John Malkovitch), talking and eating popsicles and things. Lots of fun. He and I have to go chick-watching. Because I'm really curious about his taste in girls. Really curious. I'm just sad that Rue can't really come with us and relate.
We also talked a lot about camp. Which, naturally, got me thinking a lot about camp. It's a big, scary prospect at this point. Less than a month away. Ha! But it was great. He and I were talking about which girls from camp were pretty, since we both know them. And we talked about what happened past years at camp.
Like, last year, he and I were there, right? And there was this other girl, [Magnolia], who met him and talked to him and got this crush on him, right? So for the rest of the week, I heard all these rumours about how Magnolia was going to "steal" Lani from me, like how he was losing interest in me and spending time with her. It was just hilarious because 1. Lani found her annoying, and 2. Lani wasn't mine anyway. It was so funny. I would hear these rumours and just be like, "hey, she can have him, I don't care." *rolls eyes* Just funny. Especially since camp is for one week out of an entire year. What's even the point of dating for that time? And half the people who date during camp have a girlfriend or boyfriend at home anyway. It's just stupid. Just so stupid. But very funny under the right circumstances.
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I gave blood a few days ago. I have a really low pulse. I'm proud of this. The woman asked me if I ran. *shrugs* I like the idea of being healthy, even if I hate the idea of trying to be healthy, does that make sense? I hate the idea of running or eating certain foods just because they're healthy. But I love the idea of running simply because you like to run.
I used to run a lot. I didn't actually like it that much, but I liked how I felt the rest of the day because I had run the night before. And I liked that it was something I was good at, but I didn't have to be great at it or anything like that. But I got into walking, and I did that for a long while. And I've been doing hacky-sack since fifth grade, but a lot more the past few months.
*shrugs* I should start walking again. I really liked that. I just don't know what would happen now if I spent that much time with myself. I had a bout with self-realization today, and it wasn't a happy time. I hate that I'm scared of what I might find out about myself. Maybe I'll just take a cd player to drown out the thoughts until I'm ready to have them. ("face the music", ha ha.)
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I came up with something to keep me busy. I think it will be really fun, and it's a daily thing, so I'll have something to do until I get to college.
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Speaking of college, I'm supposed to get my room assignment any day now. I really hope my roommate is cool, and that she won't mind that I want to bring my big, green chair.
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I'm going to go now, because I think I can go on a quick walk before bed... if I actually get around to it, that is.
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Post by fico on Jul 19, 2003 4:10:28 GMT -5
7.19.o3
FUCK YOU WITH THE FREEST OF SPEECH THIS DIVIDED STATES OF EMBARRASSMENT WILL ALLOW ME TO HAVE.
Sat. 4:39am. I'm trying to make an entry every day. It's not going very well. Mainly because, like Rue said in her journal, Airlia keeps claiming the computer whenever Chandra manages to finally peel herself away at night. Which often means that Airlia doesn't get on until one or so, and doesn't get off until three or so. I don't like this.
It used to be, Rue and I would have the computer for the night-hours. Every now and then, Chandra would be up also, or Laszlo would be visiting from college, or whatever. But Rue and I pretty much owned this thing between one and seven. That worked well. I liked that. Everyone got to use it at a time they wanted to use it. It isn't working out this way, and it's starting to annoy me.
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I'm listening to a lot of Eminem. *points to song-quote of the day* This is a strange turn for me. I'm usually not angry like this. The really strange part: no clue what made me angry.
You know what though? I'm starting to realize that that isn't so strange anymore. Used to be I would know what was up with myself. Not so anymore. I just don't know things I used to, and I can't figure them out either. This is distressing.
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Someone referred to me using a masculine pronoun. yay.
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this morning: Rue and I had to go to this place to give blood and urine samples, so that our colleges will let us attend this fall. We had to wake up early, because mom wanted us to. Turned out, I didn't go on a walk two nights ago, but I did last night. It was a good one, though my legs are sadly out of shape. (Pulled a tendon or something. Nothing serious, just embarrassing.) I had a conversation with someone so I wouldn't have to think about myself (erm... the person wasn't actually there, one of those "conversations"), and I wrote a letter to someone else, which made me feel good. Problem: I didn't get to sleep until five or six this morning. Time I had to wake up: around 8:30, nine o'clock.
Mom came in, and I woke up after however long. Wasn't ready to get up, though. Then Chandra came in. *grrs* Comes in, stands there, says my name... says my name... says my name. Like a cd that keeps skipping over the same three syllables, over and over and over. I'm awake, but I hate getting up while someone is in the room. Call me crazy, call me a dork, I don't care. I hate letting them know that they actually woke me up. Makes me feel... vulnerable or something.
But I could have ignored that she made me hate my name more than I already do. I mean, it's not like I'm planning on using it much after I finally get out of this shit-hole. But then, then, she invades my closet. My closet is mine. This is very important. In my family, it's pretty hard to have anything that's really yours. You have a shirt, someone wants to borrow it; you have a book you're reading, someone picks it up and looks at it; you have a room, people walk in and don't leave even after you tell them (repeatedly) to do so. This is just how it works. Some things are sacred (such as written words), but not much. My closet is sacred.
I assume Chandra did not understand this when she reached in and yanked my sheet out. Normally, I'm fine with people stealing my covers. It's generally a pretty effective way of waking me up. My problem with it this morning was that it wasn't only my sheet. It was my base-sheet (the one I put on the floor so I don't get a rug-patterned cheek) as well as my top-sheet (so I don't get too cool at the coldest part of the night). She just rips it out of my closet. Yanked me out with it. As well as my scarves. (Another sacred thing: my scarves. No one touches them, ever. Rue asks before she does. No one else touches them, and they don't ask to either; they know what my answer would be.)
My scarves get tossed out of my closet, which just isn't allowed. I was about ready to rip her head off. So instead, I yank my covers back from her and lie back down. (Nothing infuriates them more than knowing that I'm wide awake but not doing a damn thing about it.) It took some pretty good maneuvering on my part to get my sheet and scarves back. Chandra said something like "after a demonstration of acrobatics like that, you should be wide awake." I just lay there. She left in a hissy-fit. Then I heard her complaining to someone (Rue?) about me.
I understand that I'm really difficult to wake up in the morning. I know it wasn't a good move on my part to stay up so late. I don't think she had the right to invade my personal space. Tomorrow, when I'm talking to her again, I'll tell her that my closet is completely off-limits, since I'm not positive she knew that. I hope she doesn't want to actually talk about this; I hope she just let's me say my stuff and leave.
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I'm in a kind of pissy mood, obviously. It's just, all these not-so-great things happened in quick succession. Last night, before my walk, Bet dropped me off. It was around one. We had just been hanging out, whatever.
I get in the house, and I'm completely starving. So I make myself some maceroni and cheese. Chandra poured the noodles in for me, 'cause I was washing dishes.
There were a couple red bugs in the noodles when she poured them in the water. She said the red ones are good ones, they just float to the top and don't bother you, you just have to fish them out. So I make my mac and cheese, and it's a good one. You know how when you're accustomed to something, you can tell if it's good or bad without even "testing" it, you just know? This was a good one.
I sit down with my book and my bowl. I'm about to take a bite, and what do I see but I nice, fat maggot right on top of my noodles. Little known fact: Gen has eaten maggots. (Or is it little known? I might have posted that already. Hmm.) In cous cous. I couldn't see them because of the light being weird. I wasn't happy about it. I was not about to do it again.
But it's kind of like a post. You spend so much time on one entry, and then it gets lost because your computer freezes. It's like that. I had already made a great batch of the stuff, I didn't want to have to do it again. But I really was starving. So I gave half the maggoty-stuff to the dog, and I chucked the rest in the garden. (That's what we do with food we don't eat. It goes somewhere in the yard, because my mom says that's better than having it in a land-fill.) Washed/rinsed my dishes and made the maceroni and cheese again.
All the dishes I was able to wash in the mean time: the sink was clear, and most of the stove was cleared off. That's practically spotless in my family's standards.
So I ate the stuff, and it was good this time. And the batch was good. Then I went on my walk.
Of course, today, I come home and the kitchen is a complete wreck again, rather than the mild-wreck I left it in last night. I hate this house. I hate this house. I hate this house. College is taking forever to get here.
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Then this morning was lousy. And all this crap happened with my mom that wasn't good. I dunno. I feel like I'm just complaining. But I think it's probably better for me to get it all out in here than it would be for me to go around complaining to everyone I talk to.
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Strange thing: I haven't been moved in a long time. I haven't seen or heard or experienced anything lately that really got me in my gut. I think that might explain a lot.
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*edit* I lost in chess.
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Post by fico on Jul 20, 2003 16:51:39 GMT -5
7.20.o3
THEY BOTH [SLEPT] TOO MUCH AND MADE LOVE WAY TOO LITTLE
Sun. 5:41pm. I slept about eleven and a half hour last night. I was out. Can't stand when that happens. Such a waste of time, sleep. For serious.
I had a weird dream that involved the World Trade Center being blown up, rather than just whacked with planes. I was in a car with a bunch of people, and the wave of dust and air that came sweeping away from the Trade Center (no clue why I was in New York) picked up our car. We didn't die though. Can't imagine why not, but dreams are weird like that.
I woke up singing to the song that was on, in my head. But I can't remember which song it was. Brit sent me and Rue a package. It got here yesterday. In it, she gave me a cd. So I had that on repeat last night. I think I woke up to "Going to California" by Led Zeppelin, but I'm not at all sure.
The cd is really good, by the way. Amazingly good.
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Post by fico on Jul 22, 2003 9:34:20 GMT -5
7.22.o3
TONIGHT WAS JUST GREAT / SHE TAUGHT US THE SIGN FOR PEACE
Tues. 10:25am. Tonight was just great. Had one or two not-so-good things, but generally really good.
There was this big thunderstorm. It's still raining on and off. But this is rain. Not drizzle or anything, real rain. This makes me happy. I haven't felt properly rain-y in a while.
To celebrate, I went on a walk with Rue. It was a really good one.
But the best thing about tonight was that I wrote a story. I really did. And I like it a lot, and I'm proud of it. I can't tell you how long it's been since I was really actually proud of something I wrote. Honestly, I'm not really actually proud of this one, but I'm close enough to it to round up.
Anyway. I'm working on typing it up now, and I'll be posting it in Flourish and Blotts over on Trapdoor.
Weird thing of the week month: I'm anemic. [/size]
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Post by fico on Jul 24, 2003 3:15:27 GMT -5
7.24.o3
TELL ME WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR. LET ME DO THE RIGHT THING, LET ME DO THE WRONG THING, AND IF IT'S EVER THIS CLEAR. I'LL ONLY SAY IT ONCE. SO LET ME TURN THE AMPS WAY UP, SO YOU CAN HEAR NOTHING...
Thurs. 4:04am. So I'm taking pills for my anemia. Basically, I'm swallowing iron every day. Oh joy. But it's not bad. The pills are small and stuff.
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I'm feeling imcomplete. It's that feeling of not finishing anything and thus being unfinished. I got most of the way through Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver, and it's important that I finish it. But I haven't yet. I did the same with the first Harry Potter book. And with the book Life, the Universe, and Everything. And even with Harry Potter five. It's important that I finish that one, also. But I haven't managed it. I started about two new stories recently, and I came up with an idea. I wrote Lids Down, but I haven't edited it yet. *shrugs* Incomplete.
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I'm listening to a lot of Bright Eyes. This might not be a good thing, but I'm really getting into a cd I hadn't been as into before. He has this one song. It has some of his better lyrics (which is really saying something), but I don't really like how he pulled it off. It starts out really well. Really well. But by the end, he's just kind of shouting-mumbling the words. I can see why he decided to do that, but I kind of think it detracts from the song. I would really like to write a cover of that song. Because I think it's important that he interpreted his music that way, but I think my interpretation is pretty valid also.
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I spent the entire day being late to things. We left late this morning, and we were late getting back. (We went to get our Army ID cards. Since dad's in Iraq, we get 10% off in some stores. *rolls eyes*) Of course, we were late enough that Bet had already stopped by after work, like I asked her to. I called her, but we couldn't hang out because mom and I had to go to pick up a car we bought. (Got it in good condition for a thousand dollars. Only really bad part about it is that the speedometer doesn't work, but who uses those anyway?) Got gas on the way to picking up the car, so we were a little late there. Was very late to guitar. But I had called Ely the night before to say I had to pick up that car, so that was okay.
Being late always makes me feel really bad. I used to (and still do, apparently) do it a lot. But it's really important to me not to, because it's just one of those things. Anyway. Yeah.
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And I just had a really cool discussion with [Sid]. I like Sid, because we usually end up having way cool discussions. And because Sid gets my sarcasm. And because I get Sid's sarcasm. And because we understand other things about each other, but we don't care exactly, because neither of us has needed to call on that understanding. Right now, we're just hanging out and talking. And that's feeling very good.
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*has decided that every-day entries are pointless unless they actually say something worthwhile. does not have a life worth while enough to report on every day*
*goes off to write a letter before bed*
Oh! And we (Rue and I) got a package from Gabi today. Glee. So I've got some new songs/cd's to think about. Which is good.
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Post by fico on Jul 25, 2003 14:47:03 GMT -5
7.25.o3
I NEED SOME DISTRACTION. OH BEAUTIFUL RELEASE. MEMORY SEEPS FROM MY VEINS. LET ME BE EMPTY. AND WEIGHTLESS AND MAYBE. I'LL FIND SOME SLEEP TONIGHT.
Fri. 3:28pm. Bet and I had a sleepover last night. I was lying in bed, trying to go to sleep. We had stayed up until six, watching almost an entire season of Friends. (She's got the seasons on dvd.) I wasn't exactly tired.
A lot of times, I'll lie there for a long while before I can fall asleep. I actually enjoy it, a lot of the time. You can hear Bet breathing next to you, really deep and steady. And she doesn't move much when she's asleep, so she's kind of just this solid weight to your left. (Unless you're on your stomach, then she's to your right.)
I really like watching people while they sleep. It makes me mad that I'm never the first person up in the morning, because it's always too dark to see them when we go to bed, even though they almost invariably fall asleep before I do.
I could feel my heartbeat through most of my body. My breathing kept getting in the way. I was holding my scarf, and I could feel my heartbeat thudding through my whole chest and through my left arm and my right shoulder and my leg. And I just wanted to stop breathing so I could concentrate on the heartbeat. So I could feel it. But I kept needing a lot of air, and it would make it so I couldn't feel the beating in my chest.
This happened a few times recently. I was at the doctor's, though she hadn't come in yet, and my heartbeat was so strong, that little robe thingy they give you was shuddering every time it beat. I could see it on my shoulder. But whenever I breathed in, I couldn't see it anymore. It would pull the robe tighter or something, so it wouldn't shudder.
I read a book once. (ha. no. i liked that book. more than once.) There was a girl called Daine. And she was doing magic, and throwing her mind outside herself to listen. But there was a loud thudding that was bothering her; she couldn't hear with it. So she made the thudding stop.
Her mentor had to thrust magic into her chest to make her heart start again. He was mad. Yelled that when she did that, her thoughts had consequences. When she threw her mind out, it slowed down her breathing. When she wanted it to, it slowed down her heart. She could have died.
You ever wonder how much control you really have over your body? And you ever get scared by how much you think you do or don't have?
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Post by fico on Aug 4, 2003 21:02:21 GMT -5
8.4.o3
you are the only one who understands.
9:55pm. i can't get out of camp-mode. i can't concentrate online. everything is too big and too intense and too strong for me. and all i can do online is talk to camp people.
...i'm sorry...
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Post by fico on Aug 9, 2003 14:50:22 GMT -5
8.9.o3
not with my jesus you don't.
3:41pm. gen is back. he's sorry for not having been on for five days. but he's back now. only he's pretty busy getting ready for college, since he leaves in three days. (he's getting nervous. very excited, but a little nervous.) so he'll try to post around, but he doesn't know how that will pan out.
gen has learned something. invasion of privacy is this close (*holds up two fingers*: ll ) to going over his line. that close.
*is currently very mad at someone who invaded someone else's privacy. is not sure what to do with this anger, but thinks he's handling it pretty well*
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Post by fico on Aug 27, 2003 10:52:12 GMT -5
8.27.03
I LISTEN TO THE WIND TO THE WIND THROUGH MY SOUL
Wed. 10:13am. I have been given an entry-request.
*thinks a bit before typing* I know myself relatively well at this point. I know that if I just jump into what Coe and classes and college and campus are like, I'll never talk about camp. (In Greek, the hard "c" sound is always expressed with a kappa.) So despite the fact that it's not what's happening now, and a lot of stuff goes in between, and some people already know what happened, I'm going to talk about camp and move from there.
I went to camp feeling really nervous yet vaguely relaxed. That seems really strange to say until you understand my camp-history. The first time I went was the summer after fifth grade. I was younger than most of the other kids, but they made an exception because I was more mature than other ten-year-olds, and my dad was in Bosnia. Camp became a sort of safe-haven. I remember when my dad first suggested that Rue would be coming with me, a couple years after my first time. I flipped. I couldn't believe they would try to take that from me. I didn't have a private place at home; people kept invading it. But at camp, I was five hundred miles away. It was beautiful.
But Rue handled coming to camp really well. (That was when I first started finding out she was cool.) And then Airlia came. And I invited Bet. It all just started being centralized around camp. Camp was someplace-other. I could be a different person because I was becoming a different person. People at camp even expect you to be different from year to year, because they know that everyone changes. It's the people who watch you and are with you that don't expect you to change, because they think they should be able to see it happen.
But on top of all this, all the comfort-zone-feeling I get from camp, I also had a lot of goodbye-comfort-feeling. Camp automatically assumes that everyone has a common basis: Christianity. I was going there to tear down the common basis and then say good-bye, because nothing would be left after that.
As I'm going through life, and talking to a certain person, I'm finding out more and more that my assumptions of people are way off; I always think of people as less than they really are. It's so... cheap of me. I think one of the worst things we can do is underestimate the people we care about, because they often turn out less than they are. I don't know why I always thought underestimating people we don't know is okay. ... Geh. I'll think about that.
So, anyway. I went to camp. Met [Lizzy]. Lizzy has been at camp for five years or something, but this was the first year I actually met her. It was beautiful. We hung out a lot and were touchy-feely a lot, things like that. Everyone thought we were dating, which didn't go down well at our Christian, non-gay camp. But Lizzy and I had loads of fun together. Hung out a lot, talked about tons of BIG things, shared stories and experiences. And we tried to ignore the occasional counselor/reverend that would show up and pointedly step between us. But it was beautiful.
Every year at camp, you go around and pick out a stick. That stick represents your sins over the past year or couple years or whatever. We burn the sticks at the consecration service on Friday, then we go home after breakfast on Saturday.
I went walking around, hopping stones, with Lizzy and this adorable kid, [Isty-Pisty] (pronounced eesh-tee peesh-tee), near the stream on ednesday or something. I found this tree that had fallen. It was bleached white from the elements, but it hadn't started to rot yet. It was really gorgeous. I decided to use it as my stick. Unfortunately for me, the rule at camp is that your stick can't be taller than you are, and you have to be able to carry it with relative ease. The tree was between twenty and twenty-five feet long. I'm short.
But I got around it. I went to [T] and asked if he had something I could use that would chop a tree. He said he didn't have a knife that big. But he told me how to get around my problem. Find a rock, a big rock (he was demonstrating how big), about as big around as my waist. (I'm short, and I'm pretty small, but my waist is about a foot by half a foot. That's a damn big rock.) He said get a rock and drop it on the tree, keep chucking it at the tree till it breaks.
Next morning, after I finished my morning-devotions, I went back to the tree. I found I big-ass rock, about as big as my waist. Picked a spot on the tree and just kept chucking the rock. I turned the tree once or twice, so the rock would hit it from a different side. Eventually, I heard a loud crack. I chucked the rock a few more times, then grabbed hold of the stick and ripped it off the tree. My stick was beautiful. It was smooth, just an inch or so shorter than I am, and it had this curve in it. The wood just twisted a little. I borrowed a knife from my friend. Throughout the rest of the day, I worked on carving part of my stick. When I was done, HE WAS LOVED lay along the curve. I didn't explain to most people what it meant.
[Gen has a class now. Gen will go to class. After that, Gen has many other obligations. Gen will continue this entry later.][/color]
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Post by fico on Aug 28, 2003 14:52:21 GMT -5
8.28.o3
THE ONLY THING I'LL ASK OF YOU. YOU GOTTA PROMISE NOT TO STOP WHEN I SAY WHEN.
Thurs. 2:37pm. (Technically, this should probably be a new entry. But I'm working on camp still, so they're one in my mind. And since this journal is an extension of my mind, you all get to deal with thinking the way I do. Bwahaha--.)
That was Friday, the day I carved my stick. I carried it around pretty much everywhere. Lizzy and I walked to this hill that's about a mile away from the camp. We usually hike up there after the talent show, but it had rained that Thursday, so we didn't go this year. Truth be told, it rained Friday too, but Lizzy and I walked it anyway. Sunset Hill looks really different in day-time from night-time.
It was strange at camp, because I got closer to people this year than any other year. I think that has a lot to do with the amount of change I've gone through in the past year. But I was way different. Way different. And it made me so mad, because I knew I wouldn't be back next year, but I was getting so close to so many people.
I came out to a couple people. Lizzy, my roommate, Lizzy's best camp-friend. It was cool, 'cause they were all okay with it.
I started telling people I wasn't Christian on Thrusday. I figured that would work best. Because that way, they wouldn't have the knowledge with them throughout the entire week. I thought it would keep the tension level lower.
Started with the easiest people. Told Lizzy. Told [Zak]. Then came the first hard one. I've had this semi-crush on one guy since the summer after fifth grade. Dunno exactly why. He kind of took me under his wing my first year. And we were semi-close after that. Every year at camp, we would dance once at the crappy-music-dance they hold on Wednesday night. He got in the habit of asking how old I was every year. Last year, I said I was seventeen, and he said "Only one more year, Little T." I asked what happened in a year. T gave this big, goofy grin and said "Then you'll be legal." It was this joke, and I dunno. I know he's really Christian, and I didn't know how he would handle me telling him I wasn't anymore.
So I search forever and finally find him having a cigarette behind the motel. (They're not technically allowed at camp, but there are a few places people always smoke behind.) Damn but he took it hard. He fought me harder than anyone else I told. Not "fought" exactly. He just "argued" (only that's too strong a word) for me to not not be Christian. After about forty-five minutes of this "arguement" we sort of agreed to disagree, and we hugged, and he told me to avoid those "wiccan lesbian witch cults" in college. I laughed and said okay. (Cults scare me.) And that was it.
Only that makes it sound so easy-going. It was really stressful. I with-stood about forty-five minutes of deep interrogation, trying to stand up for myself without making him question his own faith. (I seriously hate evangelism, and I hate the idea that I might contribute to it in any way.) It was really taxing. But I walked away from it okay. A little worn out (just a little ), but okay. And I told him I was eighteen, and we joked about how I was finally legal. Then I left.
I sort of took a break for a couple hours after that.
[speaking of breaks, i have to take another one. have to work. but i'll continue again later. *can see this is going to be a long haul*]
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Post by fico on Aug 29, 2003 14:37:30 GMT -5
8.29.o3
COOL KIDS NEVER HAVE THE TIME
Fri. 2:10pm. I have resolved to write at least half an hour a day, but what can I say? Some people call me "the cool freshman", which is very strange. I'm used to being the outcast new person, and it's weird finding people weirder than I am who appreciate my own level of weirdness.
But back to camp: *re-reads previous post* Geh. Forgot to say. T is in his thirties or something. That's a pretty significant age-difference, but it was worse earlier. At one point, he was more than twice my age. Blah, but whatever.
Thusday night is the talent show. After the show, we usually hike up to Sunset Hill, only, like I said, we didn't this year. But the talent show was great. Right before it, I had a talk with [Sandor] (that's SHAHN-door) right before the show. Sandor is cool beyond words. I expected her to handle it pretty hard. and I really expected her to "fight" me on it. But she was so cool about it. We both stated our sides, but it wasn't bad at all. It was more like we were explaining ourselves than like we were trying to convince the other of something. I loved that.
The talent show itself was really good. Rue and I sang "We Are Gonig to be Friends" by the White Stripes, and everyone said it sounded really good. Lizzy sang some stuff, and she's got this great voice. (Like, sings for hard-to-get-into choruses and things like that; voice-lessoned and all.) Bet's mom was there. She said she was upset I never sang for her before; she never knew I could. (Bet had to go home early, so her mom had driven out to pick her up.)
Lani did this hilarious skit. You know how there are those creamers for your coffee or whatever? The small ones in mini-containters. He stole one of those from the dining hall, and he also borrowed a fork. He gets up there and puts a piece of plastic ont eh ground. He had given me the fork before the show started. Tehn he starts talking about his skit, how he didn't really rehearse it too much or anythin-- "ow. ow. I've got something in my eye. [hissy intake of breath] jeez, it hurts. does anyone have anything, anything I could use to get this out?" And I'm all like, "well, you know, I just happened to steal this from the dining hall today", and I hold up the fork. (It was so obvious how planned that was. It was hilarious.) And he's like, "that's perfect, thanks." So he takes it, and he's got his left hand cupped and up to his eye, and then he takes the fork and pokes it. In his cupped hand, he was holding the creamer, so he poked it open and all the cream gushed out. It was so funny. Bet took a picture, and it turned out beyond-great. The cream is in the process of falling. Perfect.
So it's right before the last act of the show. And [Mom] is up there, talking away, saying, you know, "unless someone wants to do a last act..." So, naturally, I raise my hand and say I could sing a song, if they wanted. I would just need to borrow someone's guitar... And everyone's like: wha... um... okay. So I get up there and borrow a guitar from [Rizzo]. (ha. that's such an imperfect name for her. ) And Rizzo and I just go off. 'Cause I gave a disclaimer before I played, saying how I hadn't practiced all week since I didn't have a guitar. And Rizzo puts the microphone to her mouth and says "even though she had a guitar in her own room that she could borrow." (Rizzo left her guitar there, 'cause she lives about forty-five minutes from camp and couldn't get off during most of the week. So she would drive out in the evenings and back later that night, and just leave her guitar next to Mom's bed. Mom was my counselor.) And I said how I didn't know I was allowed to borrow it. And she said how I didn't ask. And I said... It just went on like that for five minutes or something, probably not that long. But it was really great, purely improv., just great. Lani said that was his favorite part of the show, and that he got a really folky-feel from it. Anyway, I played my song, and I did pretty well. Only one or two mess-ups.
By the next morning, the only person I hadn't told was Mom. Mom is pretty much the mom of the camp. Half the people call her by her name, half the people call her mom. It's just how it is. She takes being Christian very seriously, and she thinks people who aren't Christian are "lost". Mom is the person who really made me become Christian for the time that I was. She's the one that made me think about it and analyze it and decide it was what I was/needed/understood. Plus, she's a beyond-cool person. I was not looking forward to telling her. Not at all.
So I procrastinated just a little. Part of that was because Mom was busy a bunch of the time, part of it was because I didn't feel ready to tell her yet. But I had told her I would have to talk to her before the consecration service.
Lizzy and I hung out for a bit after lunch or whatever, I think that's when we went to Sunset Hill. I got her a stick from the same tree I got mine, 'cause she hadn't found one yet and she wanted one from there. I got it in the same way and felt all manly. I had left my own stick next to the Guest House. (That's where the girls sleep. The guys sleep in the Motel.) It was really great, that time with Lizzy. We got the stick, and then we walked over to this rock and sat on it and talked and played with each other's hair and things. It was really good, and it had all these comfortable-silences.
[Time to go again. I have class and then work-study training. I don't know if I'll be able to post over the weekend, 'cause the Writing Center is going on a retreat. But I'll see what happens.]
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Post by fico on Sept 3, 2003 19:57:07 GMT -5
9.3.o3
PULL ME OUT FROM INSIDE. I AM READY. I AM READY. I AM READY. I AM.
Wed. 7:22pm. (The weather is starting to turn cooler. It's beautiful. I'm so excited about being able to wear long-sleeves again. -- So many things are happening. I'm scared I'll forget them before I can catch up.)
So Lizzy and I walked back to the Guest House. It was about time to start getting ready for the consecration service. We got there, and my stick was gone. I had left it leaning against the Guest House wall, that's where we leave them until we burn them. It fucking had "HE WAS LOVED" carved into it, so I know no-one mistook it for their own. I was so mad. Furious.
I went into the Guest House and asked if anyone knew where it had gone. Soemone said they had maybe seen [Star] with it. [Cosmo], Star's identical twin sister, said she would look for Star with me, because Cosmo was missing her stick too. (Cosmo and Star fight all the frickin' time. But they're both really smart, and they prefer each other's company more than almost anyone else's. So they spend all this time together, and they mostly just fight. Eh. It's understandable, but it gets annoying.) Cosmo and I went looking, and we found Star pretty quickly.
I flipped. Star had taken my stick because she thought it was Cosmo's. I asked them why they had to fight all the frickin' time. Picked up my stick (which had been hidden among a bunch of other sticks near a small stream) and left, trying not to cry in front of them.
That was just it. The culmination of the past few days was too much after that. I hate crying. Hate it with a deep-seated passion. But I knew I was about to let loose. So I went behind the Guest House, 'cause there are a bunch of woods back there.
I walked for a little ways and turned around, about to sit down. My eyes were all blurry and unseeing from tears and... I dunno, "pain" I guess. ((I can feel my pulse in my fingertips when I stop and sit very still. I waited and thought for a long time just now. My fingers resting on the keys. I could feel my pulse.)) That part is kind of confused. There was too much emotion occupying me to really remember what things looked like or how warm it was or anything. But when I turned around, I saw two people peaking around bushes, watching me. I assume they were just two people outside for a smoke, since they do that behind the Guest House also. I flipped again. Turned around and ran.
I ran for a long time, mostly up-hill. A strange (but very Gen-ish) part of me took careful note of where I turned on the path, since it split a couple times. I got what felt like far enough away, and I kind of just let loose. I cried pretty loudly. (When I do things that are really "heavy" or "deep" or anything, I get quiet. I guess this just hit me harder or in a different way or something.) I kicked trees and picked up dead branches and smashed them against trees and picked up a big rock and threw it. Major anger-release here.
Eventually, I calmed down. Took a lot of deep breaths. Regulated my breathing. And I walked back.
As soon as I got back within sight of the Guest House, Mom came out of it. (Makes me think someone told her I was back in the woods, like maybe the two people who saw me, but that's completely unfounded.) Anyway, she came up to me and said, "so you wanted to talk..." And I was like, "uh... um... yeah." And I told her I wasn't Christian. It was scary, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Took a little bit of emphasis to make sure she believed me. Tore me up because her face fell when I said it. I mean fell. *shrugs* But anyway. It went pretty well; I just don't want to talk about it too much. Some things are private like that. Not in a "I don't want to tell you way", more in a "I can only tell you in person" way. Like I can't do it justice if I type it instead of say it. *shrugs* I don't know. That sounds stupid, but I still don't want to say it.
We finished talking, mini-semi-hugged, 'cause she was all done up for the service and I was really dirty. Then I took a fast-as-anything shower and got dressed. Wore pants and a dress-shirt (long-sleeved and button-down) and a tie. Was basically just open at camp for once.
Rizzo was getting ready the same time I was. 'Cause she slept in our room a couple nights, since she got off work toward the end of the week. She saw me getting dressed. "A tie." She said, and I said "yeah. I do this a lot now." And she nodded or something, came closer. And there was this moment. I don't know what it was, and she doesn't exactly either. But it was BIG. We just connected somehow.
We talked about it the next day. Saturday morning, right before the Trenton group left. She said she didn't know how to say what it was. Earlier that week, she had sung a song for everyone, during one of the vespers services or something. She had said she liked singing so much because she liked to find songs that expressed what she didn't know how to express. So we're standing at the top of the hill, Saturday morning, niether of us knowing what went on the night before. I didn't know what had happened, and she didn't know how to say it. So I told her to mail me the lyrics when she found them.
Saying good-bye to everyone was really hard. The people who knew said they would miss me, and they said it in a way that was heavier than usual. *shrugs* Best year yet.
[Time to go again. But when I post next time, I'm talking about college. Go progress. ]
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Post by fico on Sept 3, 2003 19:59:56 GMT -5
[At the retreat for the Writing Center, we wrote these short essays. I wrote mine on what happened at camp.]
[untitled] --Eugenides
Everyone has a barrier, a line, that isn’t allowed to be crossed. Some of the things that make up the line are personal standards for ourselves, or private boundaries on our bodies, or social expectations of others. And when there’s a chance you won’t live up to your own standards, you go haywire trying not to disappoint yourself. The problem comes in when your standards are too high for your extenuating circumstances. And then you hit the last straw, and your ship springs a leak.
My stick was gone, damnit. My personal property. My belonging. The whore. Fuck.
I read once that in the woods, you’re only in danger if the birds are silent. I crashed through and the birds shut up faster than anything. I brought my danger in, crushed the path and kicked the trees; a rock bigger than my head -- fly. Trees are so much stronger than sticks. Trees don’t break. Relax. Breathe. Stop. I try to stop my heartbeat sometimes. Or my breathing. Alone, I make so much noise I can’t hear myself because my body doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop working. Stop.
“Oh Beautiful Release.”
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Post by fico on Sept 17, 2003 9:51:39 GMT -5
9.17.o3
I'LL GO LOOK FOR COATS
Wed. 9:50am. So I've been really busy, right? And I'm writing a lot for classes, so I rarely have the time or energy to write an entry. Solution: I'm going to start posting up some of the things I write for class. Then you guys know what I'm thinking about, and I often talk about what's going on in my life. Not the big stuff, but a lot of the little things. Okay?
Personification
Sometimes, trees feel more human than people do. Because they personify a lot of what I like about some humans. They’re communal, yet separate from each other. And there are so many different kinds, and so many differences between them. They’re straight up livers. And they’re not self-conscious. The most interesting trees I’ve found on campus are in what is possibly the most inopportune place. Usually, I climb trees in an effort to avoid human constructs. The most interesting trees on campus are in front of Sinclair. First Ave cuts by, with cars and honking and catcalls. And the lights of the city slice through the leaves. I felt vaguely out of place, though that isn’t the right phrase. The assignment was to go on a walk at night; which I interpret as simply “go on a walk”. I felt like I was starting off from a different place than everyone else. Technically, we all start from a different place; it’s just a question of how big the differences are. So to change it up a little, I took a friend. She took me someplace dark first. It wasn’t on campus, but it was dark. Lights were visible a little away, but I’m starting to understand that that’s the difference between the city and the suburbs. I’m accustomed to the suburbs of Pennsylvania, which this is not. It was good to walk near water. We got back from our side-walk, and we started going around campus. She said it was my walk -- I had to lead. Whenever we got to a break in the path or a place I hadn’t been before, I would point, and we would turn as one person. I’ve fallen into a groove already. My favorite paths on campus are ingrained in me, and I find myself walking in certain formations without even thinking about it. I made a conscious effort to change that for this walk. I don’t know why it was important to me, but it was. Because I like habit, and I like tradition, but I hate ruts. I don’t want to get caught in a rut of only walking to a few of the places on campus. That's almost like not exploring parts of a person, like I don't care enough to know what their interests are or what their issues are, I only want to know what's beneficial to me. That doesn't feel like a fair thing. We came to the stairs that lead up to Peterson, she pointed to go up. I had thought about going there before, but I hadn’t gotten around to it. That’s usually my problem. Funny that the part of the walk that stands out most in my mind is the part where we weren’t walking. There are two of those cube-seats at the top of the stairs. We sat down for a bit. Because it was dark. There are lights nearby, just like everywhere else here. But the pocket that the cubes are in is warmly dark. I just realized how funny it is that I said that, because I remember the night was cool. I noticed how cool it was getting at night. The breeze tickles and shrugs your shirt. The air like a cool shower on a hot day. We sat and talked for a long time. I watched one of the windows of Peterson. Blue light reflected through it. I couldn’t tell if the light was from inside the room or if it was reflecting off of it. And there was a light coming from somewhere on the left, very high up. It created an angled shadow on Peterson’s side. We were on our way to the front of the campus. Before we sat down. I think we were passing Dows. And there was a sculpture, some metal thing. Lots of straight lines and angles, layers of them. There was a light from somewhere we couldn’t see, a tree was blocking it. The shadow created on the wall of Dows was gorgeous. Beautiful. Like a cornered spider’s web. Intricate through its own simplicity. She was getting cold. I was too, but cold doesn’t affect me in a noticeable way, if that makes sense. I like winter because cold is ignorable. Heat coats me and doesn’t let go, sweats me out and doesn’t let me be me. I become a me I can’t relate to. But cold makes sense. Cold is understandable and controllable. We stood up and walked back. Not walking around much more, just back to Murray. We avoided the sprinklers, but walked through some grass. Things felt co-ordinated.
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