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| - Song for Myra Goldberg So, I've decided to call it quits. Xanga no longer serves the same purpose for me as it once did. As some of you may know, I've been struggling with a terrible case of selfishness, interal, external, in all facets of my life. Like the flu, it overcomes me and limits me to only the things which directly serve me including Xanga. In a rush to flush out all those selfish desires of mine, one of those was Xanga. Merely a place for me to put out my own life, Xanga was a place where I could use mirrors and a light show where I could play make believe with the people who wasted their time reading my thoughts. Xanga is not a show of self but really a place to show people what they want to see. The truth is an uglier monster that, when revealed, scares people back into their homes of self-denial. Therefore, I do not plan on making any more pubic Xanga posts but instead will make more truthful, more personal posts in private. It's a new time of my life for me and I've got to try out a more adult form of diary. This sophomoric stuff must end.
Bon Voyage. | | |
| - PORTIONS FOR FOXES...oh yea motha trucka Got a desire to run through the sprinklers going off outside the dorm...naked.
Let's do something ridiculous. Right. Now. | | |
| - Konstantine I'm not sure the length of this particular post simply because I'm not in one of my frustrated, get-it-out modes which prods me into typing and typing until I'm all spent but one of those moods where you are ready to say something. Anything. Something that will feel good and feel sufficient. It always ends up being a diatribe against some personal quality. See! I'm writing about my distate for what I write. Ugh...self-deprication; so depressing.
So tonight I got a message via email from a girl from Pittsburgh filled with meanings beyond the words she juxtaposed next to one another and wrote seemingly a novel about what life is all about-my meaning of existence to be exact. What was this extensive email that I received? Love you. That's it. I fool myself constantly that I can place words together that have a harmonious sound or a touching sentiment or even, god forbid, a mature, something other than fourth grade element of grammar and style encompassed in them. But, what she wrote is better than any how-to book or stylistically perfect book I've ever passed my eyes over. Love. So many troubadours, so many poets, so many dreamers and schemers have pondered it. Even I. The quiet thinker in his dorm room Davis 201 who wonders day in and day out how to get those two words to fit together in a sentence. Yes, I've been thinking about this and while it reeks of selfishness (me, selfish? ha. That's my middle name), I believe that we, as humans, need love more than we need to give it. I think I've written at least once about how our sharing of love is with the sole intention of receiving some sort of recognition for it, love or unlove (allow me the grammatical liberty, por favor?), rather than for an amorphous concept of selflessness. Remember that when you profess your care and adoration for someone, when you say those three little words, the first word to escape your lips is I. I love you. How I hate that! In fact, now that I think about it, the more what Emily wrote makes me fall deeper and deeper for her. As I've written time in and time out is her abject love for others beyond herself. She's THE most selfless person that I've ever laid eyes on. Teeter-tottering on jealousy and amazement, I wonder how a person can gaze upon the world like a turtle does before crossing a busy thoroughfare and decide to cross because it's her mission in life instead of crawling back inside of her shell, closing the eyes to the hell and hopelessness which is the world outside one's own existence. She crosses that road each day with a relentlessness that makes me smile and saturated with love. Love you. Yes, emily, love you too.
Life has been pretty good. Okay, life is pretty great. I'm simply reeling from the fact that as I write this pathetic waste of letters and punctuations, another day comes from the ashes of the one before it and as the sun rises in a few hours, it will rise on eight months with her. Eight months. Last night as we lay on the couch avoiding her organic chem and my intermediate latin, we didn't speak because as this has progressed words come more and more halting. For a relationship that is as easy as breathing, it seems that everyday I end up breathless. I believe totally that God has crossed our paths and I thank him each day for it.
Love you. | | |
| - what sarah said Just a couple of things, not a long post.
Today was the opening day of my tuesday adventures. Since I am classless on Tuesday's, i've decided to make this fall event-full. Today, i was alone, headed over the mountain to the Homestead and spent an hour in the warm springs that Tommy Jeff used to frequent when he was the prez. Next week, who knows? (canoeing is likely while it's still warm).
Also, I'm about to dedicate myself to the guitar. Music was an intricate part of my high school/middle school career and I'm ready to make myself learn this acoustic and learn it well.
I've also dedicated myself to making some dough so I can get a good road bike or a kayak. Something new to entertain myself before skiing season starts (two months ladies and gents). Speaking of skiing, this is the year that I breakout and become the skiier I should be. I want to be able to do a 540 inverted tail grab, work some in the half-pipe, (of course) grab as much air as possible and also to be more confident (as in, do) on the rails. Rails have haunted me ever since I broke my pole doing something stupid. Hopefully, my friend Alex is going to be in charge of the skiing team and we will be able to race against quality teams.
Finally, i want to really work hard this semester. I've shown signs of extreme productivity but also signs of lackadaisical behavior. This must be stopped. So...I'll get back to my latin. | | |
| - Babylon II Tonight is yet another reason why I think the world moves in circles. Reuniting emotionally, spiritually, phyically, totally with emily had our first romantic time way back in January written all over it. The nervous laughter, no one taking charge of the first move, the awkward silences...all of it goes into the first kiss. Tonight was like that. But, unlike that cold night in the first part of the year, the spot and yall all know what I'm talking about, when you just melt into the other person's arm was there like an old faded pair of jeans. And just like that night long ago, when I left her, I felt like I was walking on a cloud. My lips still burn with the power of her kiss...3 months did some damage on us, I'll admit. But tonight, tonight was the night I'd been waiting for for some time and all that silly weirdness around each other was washed away. ahhh... | | |
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