| Monday, December 3rd, 2001
2233
Things are changing. They always are, but this time it's me that is changing--changing my environment, my routine, my decisions making process. I've found myself completely unsatisfied with being alone the past few weeks. In fact I have found msyelf hideously bored at about this very hour...pouring through all the things I would normally do--master another show or do something in that veins, play a computer game, surf the net, watch a movie, read...lay awake and listen to music; and none of it was interesting. Oh sure, I've got tons of show, games, movies, and of course music...but even the wide variety within those options has just not been enough. Human Interaction. Going out, meandering amongst strangers, instigating a never ending stream of insulting quips with D. Went bowling again at lunch. Talked with Rob ("the drummer") about the show Friday and how the lack of dinner increased my inebriation and that was why I left early. I also asked him if I could roll tape at the next Chuck Wow show (due to my condition that evening, what I have on DAT from that show is mostly not so good...) and he said sure. Asked Horn if he wanted to go diving sometime this week... All this activity...i feel tired but I don't want to just sit here...but I do...but then I do and I'm bored. I've gained between five and ten pounds since I quit smoking (which I realized with a shock this morning) so I've resolved to go on a diet...nto just say or think about it lke I have been, but actually hold myself to it...not force myself to finish off "that last little bit" and instead make my portions less generous...not so much butter on my potatos, not so much milk and soda (i drink WAY too much Coke and Pepsi and Dr. Pepper and Cherry Coke and Cherry 7Up and whatever craving I might have that week...and I think, besides making my tummy start to bulge a bit, it's wreaking havoc (in conjunction with the coffee) on my gut...so I'm drinking less coffee now too...and drinking less potent java when I DO drink it...) I'm 26 years old...and I feel like I have already lived an entire life. I miss a lot of things from that life; people, places, sights, smells. I think about Christa and I am afraid to think that the best times with her are long gone...we have both grown so much since I left california. We're different people now with different schedules and different ideas and plans. I still can't decide if I will return to HSU to finish my college degree. The chances of finding a job up there, especially in the legal field, are next to none -- Even if I could consider it, I am overqualified for fast food or other stupid shit jobs...I was already overqualified before I left HSU...which means I would mostly live off my savings and my MGIB money...which would ultimately still deplete my savings. That is not to mention the wasted money thrown on rent vs. mortgage on a house. No...chances are best that I will finish my degree at Hayward ...and so how much will I see Christa? Not often. Will Daniel ever come out to california to live with me for a while like we had once envisioned? Not likely...he has other things to deal with and he has made other plans with other people I imagine...Dan is a good man and we had some really good times, helped each other through a lot...but I won't be surprised if that remains just another Army friendship...What about Gregg? Who knows if I'll even hear from that man again...I wonder about him sometimes--if he finished school and found a job teaching...same with Timothy and I think about Steve, if he has moved on from the "beast" and his paper route and pot existance. It's taken me a while but I've made a good number of friends here now. D is still the only one I hang out with on a regular basis...but I wouldn't be surprised to see that change, especially with my new attitude about being alone. Could I handle going back to who I used to be? the withdrawn near net addict that could go weeks without leaving home? The one pessimistic about finding new things/people/things to do so I'd just stay home and content myself with what I already had? Not likeley. "I like my music like I like my life. Everything louder than everything else!" Meat Loaf _Bat out of Hell II_ I remember I used to wonder what it would be like to have myself together, to have my sanity, happiness, and future. At one point I wondered if I could ever have a function in society, could ever stand on my own two feet, could ever offer anything in the way of security to another. I honestly couldn't see it...and now it's practically here at my feet. Life has just worked itself out for me...or rather, I have worked life out for myself. It's an eery feeling to come through the fires...to understand people five, six years my junior and be able to just *know* they will be OK...to know from experience. It's a queesy, knot in the pit of yer celestial stomach feeling to see people journaling about issues you had, to question themselves or their role or even to just SEE it..physically SEE the confusion in their eyes. I envied people who had easy upbringings, had popular and successful high school lives. I envied people who went straight to a four year university like Berkely or UCLA and graduated in less than five years. I envied people who met their darling sweetheart in school and got married nad now have successful careers and lives. That's all past tense. I no longer envy those people. I wouldn't hardly trade a single tear for their success...because failure is so much sweeter a dish when you have conquored it. Failure makes a man strong, gives a man true purpose, real insight into him/herself and into the world. Failure gives us what all the success in the world can never grant for even a moment...and that thing is the true measure of life. LIFE I say...for life is not about poetry, roses, and angels. Nay I say! Life is about pain, and blood, and demons. Life is about banishing those dark clouds of ruin, of coming through the rain made clean fresh, and ready. Without ruin we can never know the true taste of success. Without pain we would never feel the full weight of joy...and without solitude we might not ever glimpse the potential in friendship. All these things I have learned through the last seven years of life. All these things I have documented in this journal. Is that a coincidence? Perhaps, but I am so so so glad to have a record of these years...these years that have laid the groundworks for me as a man of this world, as one who understands himself...understands his pain, his flights of fancy, his ridiculous grasping at the stars...Yet from these last few years, I realize the ridiculousness of that reaching comes only from pre placed opinions formed in the minds of those that never shed tears of mud or cried deep down in the soul, FOR the soul. There have been trite enties in this living document I call a journal. There have been over revealing drunken flourishments...but there has never been a lie. There was never an illusion about who I am...I have never promised to be more than a simple man. I cannot solve the problems of the world...world hunger, the destruction of the rain forests, the red tape and lies in our political system. I cannot end the wars, free the slaves, and release the pain of the doomed...Yet I take part in efforts. Yes I could do more in many of these examples...yet I am a simple man, and I have my flaws as you have yours. I do not try to hide my flaws...if anything here is where I go to expose them as best I can, to bring them into the light and exmaine them, ponder them, and try to rectify them. Sometimes I do nothing more than accept them as a part of myself. I do not seek to change everything. Oftentimes I am content to sit back, sip a beer, and watch TV with the rest of the mindless inhabitants I sometimes label this world as encompassing. Sometimes I can't sleep for exactly this complacentness. Most of the time, however, there is a happy medium...most of the time Now, that is. I used to lean more on the non sleeping part. 26 years old and I seem to write as if I think I understand it all, myself, my role, the cosmos...but I hardly think that is the case. There is still so much beyond my comprehension...the touch of a lovers hand, the joy in my child's eyes, the signing of a peace treaty and the sacrifices made on both sides, the possibility of life somewhere out in "space", chaos theory, creativity, the blooming of the rose in a place hidden far from man, the life at the bottom of the deepest oceans...There is just too much...too much I can't even process it all to provide more examples. There is too much life to say what is rigth, and what is wrong. I do not want to judge what is the best path to take in life...particually not for another person, let alone another culture. I do not want to judge what is the correct manner of thinking. I cannot say what the best appreciation of beauty is, or the very definition of what MUST be beautiful. I have my opinions on what can be considered art, but I hardly expect everyone to agree that Art is anything that which is purposefully created to induce violent thought -- either good or ill. I do believe that you can't blindly go with Webster all the time. I do believe you must live your life as you see fit, making your decisions based on your ideals and your knowledge. I do think that we are all alone in this big world at times--some of us more alone and some of us more often than others. I love life. I love everything there is about it--the emotions, pain, joy, wonder, disgust, and bliss--the sights, waterfalls, choked and fouled rivers, misty redwood forests, urban ghettos, urban skyscrape scenes--the smells, jasmine, the forests after a rain, landfills, dogshit--the ideals, heaven, hell, purity, honor, courage, wickedness, evil--the people, big, tall, short, fat, hungry, educated, illiterate, bouncy, perky, depressed, sullen, maniacal,--EVERYTHING. The good and the bad...everything together makes life so invigorating, so worthwhile. When times are good everything looks so wonderful and worthwhile...when times are bad everything seems meaningless and unworthy...and these two extremes constitute the basis of it all. We go through stages in life I suppose...good and bad. What counts is how we handle each stage...dwell on it when it's bad, cast an unappreciative air towards it when it's good... Everyday I look out at the ocean view I honor it and love it and appreciate that before I know it, I will be gone from here and everything I got from this island will be left behind...all the times of joy and pain left here...to reside in my mind alone until I die. Everytime I think about what trials I have been through in my life, I wonder just how severe they really were, and if I over dramatize them, and if I am worthy of counting myself amongst the former depressed, repressed, and darkly tormented men and women. I think about journal entries like this, when I just write for ages and ages about life...about my joy of it or my utter contempt for it. I read these sort of entries and I lose myself...lose myself in the moment and the thoughts. Everytime I think about entries like this I wonder why I feel so powered up by talking about it...and I wonder to what use it serves other than to instill me to write more along it's same lines...It seems that by reading old entries I am always compelled to write like this--it is a never ending snake eating it's own tail. To what end does it serve or will it serve? or is this just one more way to pass the water and the blood of my life, or does it serve some higher purpose? Do my thoughts create energy for the life force that surrounds us? Do I inspire in the river of life the birth of a great philosopher or an artist? Do I create a pyschopath, somehow in a direct feed with the power and somehow disillusioned with society by my thoughts? What I write...does it change anything other than a night of my own life some years down the road?...some night when I am tired and cranky and bored and flipping through old journal entries...suddenly becoming inspired enough to write again. Can I alter the future by someday inspiring philosophical proof of a priori good? Or is it all just words...words mostly for the benefit of passing a tired old man's (last) days? Does it really even matter? Matter...no I really don't suppose it does matter. I don't hope either way...for now, I am simply writing. My thoughts, my life, my blood. current mood: thoughtful
Comments: biffah
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