Wretched Excessivenesses

Here's just a random vomit of thoughts i threw onto a Sticky (not a mac person? loser.) while waiting impatiently to regain control of the house dialup internet *dies*.

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no one realizes - no one can see .... my desire. it is so repressed.

destined to scrounge in the muddy depths of mediocrity

i can love any food, and want to make it myself, but i am not a cook
i can love the wind and the sea, but i am not a sailor
i can create ideas, but i cannot weave them into a story as a writer
i can share an idea, as awkard as it comes out, but i am not a teacher
i can draw a building idea, but i am not an architect
i can read notes on a page, but i am not a pianist or composer
i can howl at the moon but i am not a wolf
i am not a coyote or a fox, or bear, or any other creature
why is a human the only creature that wants to be so many others
why would anyone want to be something they're not

how could someone be so full of contradictions?
- i desperately want to stop feeling so alone while i think of all the heavy objects i would throw if my sister or mother came into my room in the midst of me crying
- i feel like i've never been good at doing something for myself yet I know I am the most spoiled child I have ever met
- I carry a philosophy of breaking barriers, and going through trouble instead of around it, and confronting fears but i can't seem to break through this figurative triple-strength super metal alloy plate that covers my mouth in the prescence of those i wish to confront the most
- i am the most hyper-sensitive whiny yet dreamy, naieve kid I know yet also the most hard-assed cynical realist i've ever been forced to deal with

I spend all my time thinking and trying to work things out for myself....and I know I need people, but if i can just get these last few plans in order, i can set myself up to make a great deal more people who i can be there for and they can be there for me.......so why, when they try to be there for me, do i only feel like they are questioning everything i have thought out, i feel totally threatened, the ground falling out from under me, thanks to these, my own parents?
Why can't anyone else try to be such a threat?

Why do i discover the blogs and galleries of people i've never met, interesting people, people that seem to have such a graceful balance of all the things they want to be doing with their lives, and i either wish i could be like them, almost obsessively, or i imagine what my life would be like with them.

People tell me I have potential. That I can do it. I think i know. But I really just wish i could see it a little clearer in times like these.

Wretched Excess

okay, so the idea is that we live in such a world that everything is in excess
there are so many people - there is so much more bad stuff....good stuff....whatever.......we think - okay, i think - why do we have to celebrate so much -- maybe because if we didn't, then all the bad stuff would be so much more prevalent and less kept under wraps, nO?
So how do people cope with the masses of everything on an individual level? When we feel overwhelmed by it at least,. cus i guess alot of people out there exist who are apparently well-balanced. nice to meet you one day. It seems that maybe people have to compensate for the over-abundance of everything , by toning down themselves a bit to keep from swinging wildly from extreme to extreme and getting carried away. Okay , so just like i feel now. Do you honestly think that people willingly subdue their own individual, creative energies for the sake of their own sanity, because if they let loose, and explored every impulse, then the impossibly huge canvas and palatte from which to take and give would simply cause an overload.
i really don't think any of this makes sense. I know it's better for me to be doing somethign. writing at least. than sitting and wallowing. thinking alone. sharing thoughts or at least vomiting them onto a page has to be better than nothing. i dont' care how cliche and self-depreciating and depressively live journal-ish they are.
is my toungue supposed to be purple?

it's not that i think i am a totally disfunctional human being. i mean, i can perform...a task....a relationship....a job. alot of things. just when it gets like this and there's nothing u can immediately do that you know you're good at doing, esp when you have googles of creative impulses bashing around in your head - i mean if someone put a shovel or a paintbrush or pen or sledgehammer, i know i could do some damage with it. If some need for me presented itself....at least to get me away from the bleak chasms of endless thought....i would leap at the opportunity. Hell, over the past two months, I have applied for 200 of these random jobs. 200. Two hundred random tasks sitting around NEEDING someone, that I sit from my little corner of the map and wave my hands in the air screaming "i'm here, i can do it!" and i'm pretty sure i can do it damn good.......--well.
I don't want to be sitting at a desk filing papers all my life, but i sure wouldn't mind earning a quick buck or two doing it now ....for a little while. I'll walk dogs, I'll wait tables, I'll buy your groceries, I'll seal 5,000 envelopes, I'll buy coffee for your film crew, I'll do anything. But wait, i know i've made at least one condition to the whole big plan. I have stubbornly insisted to all those who have inquired that i have made the plans to pursue whatever the hell it is i am going to do with my life by leaping head first, and half blinded into the biggest and one of the most fascinating cities in the world. And I only half know how to swim. I know i'm going to swallow (choke on) a few heaping gulps of water, but i'm willing to take the risks.....the challenges........right?
Everyone talks about doing it. Now why, when I'm finally in the middle of actually doing it, does it seem like I'm ))))

Not having sex in over two months at this stage in life has got to have some negative effects as well. Two points for honesty.

why do i write for someone i don't even know. why when i'm so absorbed in those i know all to perfectly well and feel wrapped in how horrible they make me feel, can i never bring myself to express, write, scream (anything) a single word?
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okay, so yeah. that's all turning around. so i figure I'll explain why i actually have the energy and drive to post this crap in the next post to come.

p.s.: i think i'm plotting a mass exodus to an actual blog and maybe even an attached flickR account in the near future. woot.

breakfast

I had a profound thought this morning staring into my popping bacon grease:

"Your evasive maneuvers may be fate's aiming to fire."

Travelin' Through

I press my hand to the moving record and hear an opera by Henry Purcell, performed by Kym Amps turn to a dull bass, sllllooowwwwlyyyy mmmuuuutttteerrriiiinnnnnggggg "Wwwwwhennnnnnnn Iiiiii aaaammmmm lllllaaaiiiddddd iiinnnnn eeeaaarrrttthhh"

"beauty is relative."
"not my relatives."
"i wish just once they would look at me and see me. that's all."

the wall of books is closing in on me.
"C3PO, shut down all the garbage compactors on the detention level!"

i walk out to see,
then see how it would be if no one were there, suddenly the george foreman, and the vacuum cleaner, and dirty pots and pans don't seem so useful to me. how could i ignore the one thing that that filled this house with such meaning, until it could possibly be gone. lost forever. not a joke, a movie moment to say to yourself in some imagined future "happy now? you waited for ever, and now it's too late."
somehow it doesn't seem like it could feel that easy to say
counting the trees and the animals in the little picture above the toilet, so good , now standing to pee
how could i be this grown

when someone hurts you, you have one of two options, right?
you can either 1. retaliate, agressive, eye-for-an-eye revenge OR 2. retreat, take it in, but do not respond, don't let anyone know you hurt. --- that's it, right?
heh. highly doubtful. but when it comes down to the shit of fight-or-flight, that's pretty much the two things we either/or end up doin', ain't it?

why do i keep imagining a scene of me turning my family living room into a couseling session as something totally silly?

"it hurts."
"oh sweetie, that's what hearts do."

I can't tell ya where I'm going, I'm not sure where I've been.
But I know I must keep travelin' til my road comes to an end.
I'm out here on my journey tryin to make the most of it.
I'm a puzzle, I must figure out where all my pieces fit.
Like a poor wayfarin stranger that they speak about in song,
I'm just a weary pilgrim tryin to find my own way home.

whispering words into a electronic journal, a la Penny Robinson

I bend my Nike stretch-pant swarthed leg out and to the left just so, where the floor A/C vent sticking out of the hideous rainbow puzzle piece floor tiles blows cool air right up my leg, across my crotch and out the other pant leg. Strange.
Every day I think to myself: I can gain some muscle, but it doesn't seem likely that I could actually gain any sort of great deal of weight. My stomach just doesn't hold enough.

I spend my entire day at work, doing not work (thankfully) but allowing myself to get dragged into what turned out to be yet another Mouse Trap misadventure in which my attempts to help you in some way backfire in my face, literal fire, burning my face, some house, the key still on my ring, always thinking i could return to visit the old place, and now the thought of it all burning down, with one fell SwooAIM - exponentiated 'fuck you's directed toward the complacency one individual could dare to exude pretending to believe something so rich and so unique to anything else in existence to us could just be shrugged away. Sandbox games, where the only rule is to get it in your eyes, crying, or seeing who does first, in which I walk down mazes only to test how far I would walk. Any end in sight? It's not like I'm always looking for some sort of savory manchego or brie. But to have walls collapse around me, that which I climbed onto a craggly cliff to pursue threaten not only my emotional fortitude but that which i set out to mend, and then only realize that it was all SHRUGGABLE. Deemed by some non-present self-proclaimed rule-gamer to be MY DECISION - it was never about me - the problem was that I made everything about me - on and on - and in the end, it all seems only a test to see how far I (that's ME< MYSELF < I )-- how far I would venture for the sake of another. Can a independent variable ever be a dependent variable at the same time?

There's more...I still need to report on the "adventurous" weekend....as well as "a distant beach", "we could 'not talk' for hours", and "jobs in sight".
..Til then.

if you let that feeling come over you
than there's nothing more that you can do
just let it go
let it go
if it's love you want
hold out your arms
it's alright here
it's safe and warm
it's okay to feel good
thats the way it should be

You can't ever tell me I haven't been happy, anywhere, and everwhere I've been - and with most of you that I've met. Thus one could say I'm a happy person.

But can a coward be happy forever?

*Rawr*

I don't believe anyone can fathom how totally and repeatedly bored I am here...and now.

I'm bored with staring at this stupid ad of "Click to Outlift Arnie" with arnold and bush weightlifting at the top of my myspace blog entry window.
I'm bored with sitting in this room filled with all of my shit...books, movies, things to fill my time, i thought, and not wanting to pick anything up.
I'm bored with feeling totally disconnected from everyone, not posessing any true, deeply held desire to conversate with anyone, and them not wanting to conversate with me, (one potentially being caused by the other, or vice versa, who knows), well, except for maybe my parents, who sit complacently in the living room, as always. But now, at home for potentially the last three months for a very long, long time, I, excited to do things, and get them out of their fucking recliners and stay moving, in their lives - whatever- I find myself continually slamming face first into that wall of complacency. God, I mean does having spent a good five or six years of my life hearing them beg and whine for some kind of contact with me, to talk to them, anything - has all that been totally erased from their minds? And now, here I am, willing to put myself through the hell of living in this lifeless town, ONLY for them, to get close to them, and there's....nothing. I leave my door wide open, i go and sit in the living room, i walk by really slowly, annnnnnd....nothing. I made the effort to build a tent a drag them outside to play board games and --- Okay, fine. So i'm not exactly the best initiator of contact in this major complaint of mine. Why do they make me so mad? Don't they realize how little time they have? I mean do they think that they still have a good two months to convice me to stay at home forever? Fuck that. I'm sorry.

AM I THE EPITOMIZATION OF LAZINESS?
if so, how did i get this way?
by being totally spoiled all my life?
shit.

I keep saying I'm going to start doing the pushups, get back into practicing tap, eat more, get my car and moped fixed, sell a great deal of the shit I own, get back in contact with people I care about but haven't talked to in ages, the list goes on I assure you. But......nothing. WHY?

I feel so trapped in my own complacency, anti-motivation, procrastiation, and lack of 'get-up-and-go-ness'.
What to do, what to do...

Oh well, this is really getting me nowhere.....better go do nothing somewhere a little less productive.

grinded daily

i'm sitting here in my "office", at my crap computer, with nothing to do, but wait for the phone to ring. I just got moved to another desk (which is actually the 8'x8' copy room - the hummmmm is killing me) because another department didn't want to get rid of an old secretary, so they're sending her over here to answer the phones...which is (or was) half of my job responsibility. Now I really don't know why I'm here. The shelves in this room that I organized last week loom above my head, and I can imaging some Alan-Ball-esque imagination-sequence where the endless rows come tumbling down on my head, too much for me. Probably not. It's not like it's some torturous ordeal here. It's just routine and boredom and pretending to be comfortable talking to people I don't know or care about.

Updating my pics last night, finally after, what? six months was fun last night. Tonight after working out, eating (never enough) and maybe going out to see XmenIII, I'll purchase my plane tickets for the two weeks I'll be at the American Tap Dance Foundation's Work Study Program. Feels like the only interesting thing in my life presently.

Oh, I've read two and a half books already! In only two weeks. That's gotta be some kinda record for me. Why do I get so easily jaded with things? I'm totally free? No more college, school, schedu---yeah, hold it there buddy....that's all wrong....you had it easy before. Now's when the real hell begins...

"And now life really begins, and now life really begins....GO TO IT!"

....and i thought, shit.

brief interlude

There's nothing like intense 3am conversation with someone you care about bordering on the rant to get good quotes out like this:

SOMETIMES I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO UNDERSTAND THE BRUTALITY OF A GOOD RELATIONSHIP.......DON'T YOU JUST PROVOKE PEOPLE SOMETIMES BECAUSE YOU WANT THEM TO GIVE YOU A GOOD PUNCH BACK....LET YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE....OR TO FEEL AT ALL?

can't see the trees for the forest

Coming home from theatre party - meeting new people - "big spender" - (kevin/junior tension) - not going to carl's - JUNIOR - looking just like Steven Strait with....nvm....outbidding him......shaking today - when does this infernal SHAKING CEASE!???????? - it kept going on and on.... drood folks (justin) never showed to the party..... i get home and not a soul is there....house has been ravaged by beer and disorganized rolicking... facebooking to all getup and falling asleep totally alone, thinking is this what i need to condition myself toward to be able to survive what i'm setting my life up for? - the empty room laughed at me....punatively the only room on the first floor that didn't reek of beer -MY FUCKING HARD DRIVE WON"T WORK --- i'm getting desperate -this can't' be good - IT"S MY GODDAMN HOUSE TOO --- hearing patrick yelling at her when they all get home - seeing tony having told her to have it totally cleaned up when he gets home as i go out for my shower - hearing her bitching out all of us on the phone as i get out -- standing at the dark sink sipping water and vitamin, daring her to say something to me, i'll explode so hard she doesn't even know - she'd die - i'm shaking again - is it more mature of me to not say anything --- like should i just ignore what roommates TALK about - as it's not direct action that influences me --- but IT DOES influence me! --- i keep on shaking - fear out of what I might do? - --- thus, MATURE = REPRESSED

Ignorant Bliss or Enlightened Torture? you tell me.

all i want is to-- to.......why am i so freakin teary eyed....? over what? - what is it you want? --- someone to comfort and cuddle you.....tell you everything's going to be all right when you still accept the fact that it isn't? what then? what are you so desperately aching for? SOMEONE HELP --- but why, really? isn't it the very you that is so set on the path to independence and self-reliance? how are you going to survive in the wilderness, hell, on your own at all with all these complexes and neuroticisms still troubling you? YOU TALK TO YOURSELF INCESSANTLY FOR GOD"S SAKE.

imagine taking that gross, groggy feeling you have all over you when you wake up from an afternoon nap, in additon to that 'end is near' feeling when you're body is vomiting but there's nothing else in you to vomit, and also the patronizing feeling of being the only 8yr old in a room full of old women with much "bigger" problems on their brunch plate> take all those feelings and Magic Bullet the hell out of 'em, and I think you'd be getting close to what I feel like.
Why do you think you're so empty?

that repeated dread, scrolling down to see no "new comments", no "new messages", no "new friend requests" - nothing......what do they want? more interesting and frequent blogs? i can write more charismatic and clever entries i swear! i mean come on - one hundred and eighty three friends, and nothing - no comments, no messages , nothing - (i need a life)....