very lucky

Tonight I walked around with a friend of mine.

I am happy

that I can say anything and he will not judge me,

that I can feel comfortable telling him things that are bothering me and he will listen, because really all I actually needed was to get these ideas out of my head. Get them out in the open where they cannot hurt me or trap me in overanalyzing.



I am dreading sleep.

My roommate is gone,

and Friday nights I don't share my bed.



I do not like sleeping alone.

I like being alone.
And sometimes sleeping alone.

But,
There's always a but, isn't there?
Not tonight.

Honestly,

When it comes down to it, I am basically a selfish person.
It is much too easy to "turn on tune in and drop out," rather than focus, work for a living or an education, care.

The only constant in my attitude towards life is,
"Whatev."

It is just too easy... not... to care.

I am not sure if it is a good idea to post this as a school assignment.
Might give me a bad rep.
"Whatev."

(I am pretty sure I overgeneralize and judge myself too much.)

More thoughts on living without sleep

I am not an insomniac.
For me, not sleeping is a lifestyle.
It is a concious choice.
I didn't sleep last night, not until 7:30 in the A.M.
I am once again awake, have been all night.
And I have four classes today.
Good choice?
YES.

Horrid student.

I feel like quite possibly the worst student ever right now.

Here's the deal: I got my Mondays and Tuesdays mixed up.
Well, fuck!

Mondays: Four classes, so much homework.
Tuesdays: Two classes, almost no homework.

Can I say this again?
Well, fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!

So I'm sitting here at one in the A.M., just starting all my homework.

These things happen, I suppose.

Good thing I never sleep.

NATIVE IS A REALLY GOOD BAND!

Experienced: an hour truly spent.
Decided: to build a pool-- it was warm outdoors and I wanted to go swiming.
Today was gorgeous as days go. For some reason, I feel discontent?

Morning. 11:40, approximately
Woke up after a night of real sleep, woke up naturally-- strange.
It's always nice to wake up with someone beside you, and that's the truth.
Jordan (my roommate), Josh Devitt and I left to eat an apalling excuse for breakfast in Wege cafeteria. Then Josh Derezinski, Joel and I went on a bike ride, them on borrowed bicycles.

Afternoon. 2:00, approximately
The Eastown Street Fair. Walking to. A garage sale across the street intrigued me. I bought other people's old clothes -- colorful shorts, a dress-- gray, acid wash corduroy with ruffles and snaps-- a black lace vest, a sweater, and a shirt for Conor. Altogether, the clothing cost $4.25.

(writing makes me feel better).

The Street Fair was, is, and will continue to be wonderful.
MUSIC PEOPLE THINGS TO BUY
CONSUMERISM/ENTERTAINMENT
It was hot. And I felt sick from the Wege food. Everyone else went to dinner, and I built a pool.
Materials:
One white storage container w/ lid
One small red trash can
WATER
Oh, you clever, resourceful college student.
I filled the bin on smoker's island with WATER using the garbage can (felt like an African woman hauling water home except I didn't balance the can on my head). Ideally placed pool, well shaded, cool. Laid in my personal swiming pool wearing a bathing suit (black and white, retro) and sunglasses, smoking a Marlboro Red 100, BY MYSELF. I felt very eccentric. VERY WEIRD. but I did what I wanted, accomplished a goal, and it was OK.

DETERMINATION: to live as truly as the children I'm watching dance right now.

Unfortunately...

Unfortunately, most perceptions are just that: perceptions.

p.s.
I'm angry, my blog post yesterday somehow did not post, and now I have to write a new one.

try to make an effort.

I don't make choices.
Beyond what cereal I'd like to buy from Family Fare, I am hopeless.
Anything more complex than that, and I just don't do it.
Complex situations scare me.
Not that I couldn't think them through,
if I tried.
I just don't want to put in the effort.
And maybe I am afraid that if I did try, I still wouldn't understand.

I really have no boundaries on this online journal. I've noticed that other students in my class hesitate to get personal. For some reason, I've never really been worried. This format effectively psychologically distances me from my audience.
It's kind of nice.
Gives me a chance to be honest with myself as well as the world.

A day in the life

Around here, I never do anything. Rephrase: I do the same things every single day.

Top Seven:

1. Take several long walks
2. Eat at Wege
3. Sit at Smoker's Island
4. Watch movies in St. Joe's Lounge
5. Do homework!
6. Quote Donnie Darko
7. BE AN ASSHOLE.

I wish I could think right now.

Well, for some reason, one of my friends from high school, the boy I walked with at graduation, and his girlfriend just broke up. Because he "wasn't happy." I can't even believe it. This feels absolutely tragic to me for some reason.

Two days ago I got an e-mail that a close family friend of mine had finally died from cancer. Is it wrong of me to feel worse about the current situation than the death of a friend?

CAPSLOCK.

I ENJOY DOING THINGS I AM AFRAID TO DO.
I LIKE BEING SCARED.
TESTING MY PSYCHOLOGICAL LIMITS.
TONIGHT I WALKED THROUGH WILCOX PARK.
I NEVER SAY NO BECAUSE I AM AFRAID. WELL, I TRY NOT TO.
I WOULD RATHER BE AFRAID AND HAVE THE EXPERIENCE THAN BE TOO FRIGHTENED TO DO SOMETHING AND NOT.
I WANT TO WORK THROUGH MY FEAR. NOT NECESSARILY TO OVERCOME IT, RATHER, JUST TO FEEL IT.
TO FEEL.

Sunday September 14

Lately, I have been such a good student. Not only have I been doing my homework, I've been taking notes on reading that I don't need to take notes on, answering questions, in writing, that i'm not required to answer. Studious.

It feels sort of good.

Saturday September 13

People are funny. Do odd things to get a laugh, to get attention.

Case in point: this afternoon, as we left the Habitat for Humanity Volunteer House in Baldwin, MI, Dustin made a scene. No, not a scene. Let me rephrase: he made everyone laugh. He stole the toaster. No, not really. He openly pretended to be very stealthy about stealing the toaster. The thing is, he wanted some one to see him. To see him, and laugh. You see, he did not want to steal the toaster.

No shit, you’re saying, right?

But this moment struck me as a prime example of the layers and complexities behind human emotion and action. Dustin did not want to steal the toaster. He really just wanted to steal our hearts.

This is one of the sloppiest things I’ve written in the past year.
And I have no motivation to make it better.
Not today.

Friday September 12: Scattered.

All I want to do is Destroy. I do not want to Create. I want to Ruin. I want to Ravage. I want to Kill. Building is futile. Construction is irrelevant. I want to Hate. I want to Hate.

NO I DO NOT.
I DO NOT KNOW
I CANNOT KNOW
WHAT I WANT

I feel like I’m writing a novel based on my life. I don’t feel like I’m living in a novel, though.

Thesis: some people really are just bitches.

Thursday September 11

I am naive. Oddly sick. I have been. My mind regularly goes back to the guiltiest moment of my life. The day I killed the baby birds. I was only a little kid, and I really didn’t mean it. I don’t think. But at the same time, in my head and heart, I was strangely fascinated. What happened, is under my deck, there was a robin’s nest. There were eggs in the nest and they were beautiful. I picked one up: it dropped down onto the concrete and rolled down the hill, cracked and runny. That tiny, perfect blue egg. I killed it. I killed a baby. I was so entranced by my small power. One by one, I dropped all the eggs on the concrete and down the hill. Was I held in a trance, amazed at myself and my destructive power? Did I consciously understand what I was doing? I remember feeling a horrible sorrow, but at the same time, an intense triumph. Evil. I felt evil.

did this really happen?

“Good morning,” said the biker to the three curb-sitters, and they appreciated it. He wore a safety vest—like an elementary school crossing guard—with two neon reflective stripes, up and over the shoulders. He bicycled quickly, in the middle of the road. The sky was dark, but streetlights created the illusion of sunlight, the orange effusion casting long shadows. The shadows seemed colder. This did not matter. The curb-sitters still sat. The biker still bicycled.

The biker passed. And they (the three curb-sitters) all agreed. It was a good morning, indeed. Right at this moment, it was a good morning. 4 A.M., early on Wednesday.

well. I didn't sleep again. anticlimactic.

I write how I talk.

I talk how I think.

I think how I write.

Focus. Make choices.

As of late, nothing really riles me up. The closest I've been to anger was this morning around 8:40 A.M. when some jerk did his job and mowed the lawn outside my dorm window, awakening me prematurely by ten minutes.
Perhaps it's just the effect of this transitional period, but I'm rather apathetic. I am determined to pay more attention and to take opinions. I will gain an edge.

I should really sleep more.

Friday Night: Awake until 6:30 A.M. on Saturday, slept until 1 P.M.
Saturday Night: Awake until 6:30 A.M on Sunday, slept until 11 A.M.
Sunday Night: Awake until 4:30 A.M. on Monday, slept until 10 A.M.

Monday: Fell asleep in three out of four classes.

Thought Pattern.

Inspired by the book “Knots” by R.D. Laing

I feel good
I feel good because I look good
I look good because I feel good
I feel good because I am good
I look good

I feel bad
I feel bad because I look bad
I look bad because I feel bad
I feel bad because I am bad
I look bad

I feel
I look
I am
I am
I am

College Goals and Deterninations.

1. Ask, "why?"
2. Never hesitate to question the validity of information, even from textbooks or professors.
3. Take nothing at face value.

Sparrows.

Sitting on the sidewalk outside The Sparrows: Carrie, Lauren, Joel, Ellen. A man approaches. “Hey can I ask you a question? My name is Korey, I go to Grand Valley, and my car just stalled out. Could any of you spare two bucks so I can make it back to Allendale?” “Um, no. I’m out of money,” –Carrie. “Me too,” –Lauren. “I have no money,” –Joel. “Actually, I don’t either,” –Ellen. “Korey” motions at three men. They are in their early twenties, and are careful. The one in the center comes outside. (He’s wearing a blue and yellow plaid, short sleeved shirt with two snap pockets layered over a gray t-shirt, brown cargo pants, and glasses. And he has curly brown hair.) He is unconvinced. He is skeptical. He offers “Korey” a ride to the gas station. “Korey” says no. Says he is not comfortable riding with strangers. “Korey” gives Mr. Careful his phone number and tells him to call tomorrow. “Korey” raises the request to five dollars, then ten. Curly brown hair says Ok, ten. “Korey” is gone.

An hour later, “Korey” walks up to Carrie, Lauren, Joel, and Ellen. “Korey” says, “Hey can I ask you a question?” then realizes. “Oh, I already talked to you guys. Sorry,” then goes to hustle some adults on a porch for cash. Yelled: “How’s your car?” –Ellen.

An Apple a Day.

I recently recieved some of the best advice I've ever heard: never say, "no" to anything. Any opportunity that comes along, no matter how far out of your comfort zone, do it. Try everything. Never miss out because you are afraid or uncomfortable.

Just a tip.

Never walk to Meijer. Don't be fooled into thinking it won't take too long because of the ten-minute driving time. It takes two hours, and the whole way is uphill. Especially don't walk there at night, because you will be blinded by car headlights and likely will fall into a ditch. And when you get there, do not walk back. It is not a good idea.

Wallflower.

There is a restaurant in Gaslight Village, East Grand Rapids, where the casual people-watcher may sit and take note of his surroundings. Seated near several large open windows, snatches of conversation may be caught by those with good ears and a bit of focus. September 3, 2008: about 3P.M.: Weather: Hot, with a 100% chance of sunshine. Two girls, approximately fourteen years of age, average size, dressed in tank tops and shorts of the most regular style leave an ice cream shop. They walk towards Wealthy Street, cones in hand, licking their dripping, yellow cake batter flavor ice cream. Pause in front of an open restaurant window.
"Oh my gosh, did we pay?"
Giggles.
"No, we forgot!"
"Hold this, I'm going back!"
She begins to hand off the ice cream.
"Should we just forget about it?"
Giggles again.
The other doesn't answer for a moment.
"Ok, let's just go."
"Ok."
Giggling, walking again towards Wealthy.

A Love-Hate Relationship.

I am a telemarketer. I'm the person on the other end of the line that you mess with, get annoyed with, or simply hang up on. I hate telemarketing. And the funny thing is, I like my job.

School.

I love school. I actually enjoy learning new things and making connections. I like applying what I've learned to real world situations. What I can't stand, however, is homework. I hate proving that I understand the concepts I've learned. I wish I could just live at college, go to class, absorb information, and pass.