Saturday, October 29, 2005

We take a lot of things for granted. This is not news. Mostly, though, we tend to think of food, clothing, shelter, etc. as examples of things we take for granted. I'm going to present another example that is never stated and is yet so obvious: Truth.

Not like conspiracy theory / The ____ is out there truth. Just small things. Like recycling. This is what I know of recycling: every week, we have two blue boxes full of newspaper, cans, and plastic goods that get picked up. That's it. That's all the concrete proof I have ever seen as to the existence of recycling. Sure, they made a swell little video on Sesame Street about aluminum cans getting compressed into large compressed aluminum can cubes, but does that actually happen? I don't know! I've never heard of a field trip to the recycling plant nor do I know of anyone who claims to work there.

Now without getting too deep into the concept of belief vs. truth, I believe that recycling exists because I am told it does, but really I have no frickin' clue what happens to our used goods. And where is all this 'energy' they're making with it either? Sure, brown paper is often stamped with "Made from 100% recycled paper", but used cans? bottles? Never hear a lick about them.

I don't really believe that recycling is a sham, but it really does make one wonder: what kind of sick individual would someone write a blog entry on recycling conspiracy?
I'm out of drama.

Well, temporarily out of stock.

Lately when acquaintances have been asking me, "So how are things?" I can only answer, "Oh, you know: school, work, rehearsals. Busy, busy." I know they want more details, but my history mid-term or frustrations with clerical work are not what they're after, which is, in essence, dirt. Something juicey, usually veering on the romantic side of things. However, there's simply nothing.

I used to have good drama. Good God, did I ever have good drama. The boyfriend who ended it because I was destined to burn in hell for all eternity...I mean, that's good shit. Falling for a classmate (who occasionally read this blog - Hey! How are things?) and its subsequent pit falls. Finding my soul mate and then having him leave less than 48 hours later. I was very strong in the drama department.

And now...what? I kissed a platonic friendly-acquaintance while in a slightly altered state and now he thinks I have feelings for him. That is so dramatically lame. Though he kinda is, cause I really don't. Like, REALLY don't.


SCREAM is TONIGHT and I'm so excited that I might urinate in my trousers. My heart literally skips a beat every time that I think about it. My costume is SO killer. I am...the Silver Phoenix. I know, they rise out of ashes and are pretty much fire, but this keeps the them of Fire & Ice from last year, and seriously, silver is so much cooler than gold. Last night I stayed up until quarter to one painting a silver phoenix on a white T-shirt. Here's the graphic I used: (Crimson Phoenix) . Gah, I'm so lame, but it's gonna be hawwwwwwwwwwt. *ahem* hot.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

So I think I was a little bit rash about that whole abstinence thing. Not because I'm hormonally incapable but rather because I think absolute abstinence really doesn't leave pause to examine each situation and therefore isn't really true to the original intent. The reason I had such an adverse reaction is due to the fact that in the past I have not been true to my own personal standards. This has nothing to do with my perceptions of my own physical beauty or lack thereof or whatnotandwhathaveyou, but rather my habit of 'going with the flow' rather than saying, You know what? I'm really not into this.

When you're actually faced with that type of pre-intimate situation it's very hard to go back on it even if you really want to because at that point there's really no positive social recourse in saying, You know what? I'm really not into this.

And really 'this' means 'you'. And this has definitely been a problem up until now. Without undesirably disclosing any sort of figure regarding my history of partners, it can definitely noted that I was actually attracted in a potent way to a rather slim number of them. The others were more a "Well, we're already here so might as well..." situation. Which is so not kosher.

I have a dear friend who is very in touch with her sexual nature and it seems that whenever she discusses an experience she's had, it's "he was" or "It was amazing." In short, she has good sex. I, conversely, appear to not have good sex.

So rather than join a figurative monastery, I've decided instead to simply be more true to my attractions and if that means donning the robes and shaving the top of my head until that happens, then so be it.

Friday, October 14, 2005

I've just come to what may be a rather large epiphany. But first, some back story.

Last weekend contained much partying and what with the combination of family gatherings and social events, many ellicit substances were ingested and some events occurred that, while not of extreme importance, have caused me to come to the conclusion that I need to just slow down for a couple weeks and take some Zen time for me. This includes, but is not limited to, abstinence from chemically-altering substances and physical contact that includes anything beyond hugs. Very temporary, but I just feel I need some balance. I'm very happy with this decision.

On to the epiphany.

I just finished watching 'thirteen' ( an incredibly raw film about a thirteen year old's descent into drugs, sex, and emotional choas. It's amazing if difficult to watch. However I'm am well past thirteen and so my epiphany was derived not by the plot line but rather the final shot of the female protagonist's brother, who is supposed to be about 15 (Don't judge; he looks about 18), and I thought, "Hey now, that is a good looking fellow. Perfect in fact as he isn't so good looking that he seems unattainable." Then a little scene flashed before my eyes completely unchoreographed of this guy doing a little dance, sheet wrapped around his waist, naked torso with just a little bit of pudge (attainable), and suddenly from this nonesensical demi-second fanstasy, a little though hit me.

I am not capable of having an adult relationship.

I do in fact mean a romantic adult relationship as I'm apparently rather good at platonic adult relationships. Nevertheless, this little scene was no different then one I would have imagined at 17, the age of my first romantic relationship. I still want the exact same things. I still want someone who isn't jaded yet by romance, with whom I can really experience things with for the first time, without hesitation or inhibition, someone who doesn't know any better than to just jump in along side me. In essence, I have not evolved (in this department) in the past 4 years.

Holy shit.

I've not evolved in the past four years. What does this mean? Well, for starters, no wonder nothing has worked for the past couple years! This explains why I have no desire for older men despite the fact that I thought we were on a similar emotional level. As for the youngins, I want to be on their level but then I go an use words like capricious and freak them out, plus most of the time they just annoy the hell out of me cause, um, hi, THEY'RE 17!

So am I destined to die alone and unloved? Hell no. This is so not that epiphany. I'm due for that one in about 15 years. I am however doomed to this Peter Pan Syndrome, which is fine given the celibacy thing. So I dunno. This really has no conclusion, so I'm just gonna go about life now. Yeah.

Saturday, October 08, 2005

Yesterday I lost my wallet. Well not really lost, but...Well, all will be explained shortly. It was 8:00 and I had just left the government building where I work on Main and crossed the street to catch my bus. Upon, arriving at the bus stop, I realized that I had left my wallet in the building. I went back and swiped my card by the thingie to let me in and it flashed green and then red and beeped angrily, as though to say, "You don't have clearance, bitch." So I had to call my supervisor who had to come back to the building and let me in and then I discovered that after all of that, twas not there. I retraced, I went back to the school, nothing. After that I pretty much freaked out for a bit, rocked in the fetal position, and recomposed, accepting that it was, like Britney's virtue, long gone.

Let me take a moment to explain why the loss of this wallet was so great. A wallet is a wallet is a wallet, even if it is an imported Louis Vuitton wallet. Whatever. It is, after all, only a material item. However, this was a gift from a close friend and adolescent mentor when I turned 18 and was something of a symbol of our evolution from a mentor-student relationship to genuine friendship. Besides that, it essentially contained my life; all my IDs, bus pass, debit card, address book, etc.

So today I'm at school, a bit down about this, but coping with my loss much as Jonny did his black beater. Then one of my friends with whom I'm walking states, "Well, a bunch of us were looking at it yesterday." (I had left my bag with them for a short while.) Really. You guys were passing around my wallet and now it's gone. That's fantastic. Then I start talking to various people who tell me that So-and-so has it and then they give it to Other-generic-but-undisclosed-name and it eventually wound up with one of my friends and it was largely believed that they still had it. So, I'm listening to this, and internalizing this and I'm just getting more and more ANGRY that not one of the three people who had had it in their possession after I had blindly left for the day had bothered to tell me anything about it until I was bemoaning it some 24 hours lately.

I got it back, so fine, whatever, but I was noticeably a little bit upset that no one had even called me the night before. Like, that just..makes sense! So, I'm awful at hiding my emotions so it was clear that I was a bit pissy, and while there was a certain amount of apologizing, I couldn't help but feeling that somehow I was the asshole for getting upset over this. I know grand scheme, a misplaced wallet is not a huge thing; rest assured I do understand this. But I felt like I was being judged as unjustified in being a bit miffed over the whole thing. And it all boils down to this pansy-ass North American politically correct bullshit where you can't express any negative feelings without somehow being labeled touchy. And this was really not a friendship-breaking moment with my friend and I, but I've been in these situations before and everyone else around gets really tense cause, Oh God! someone isn't happy and we're awkward and how do we handle this... It's like most people have two extremes: happy/normal and upset/abnormal and nary the two shall meet. It wasn't a small deal to me and it wasn't a huge deal either. It was simply a deal. Let us be free to have and accept deals.

Like drug deals. Those rock.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

I've just come from watching a show on the university channel concerning a reinactment of a mental health nurse dealing with a manic patient. It was kind of boring, so my mind began to wonder, as it does occasionally, onto my romantic history and the hilarity thereof. Generally the memories of all the feelings of rejection and confusion and disappointment rush back with the gale force of Katrina knocking an old plantation house for a loop. However, just now I experienced a rather different perception of what could generously called a less than success history thus far. I essentially did away with all the feelings of hurt and was left with this rather airy sense of disappointment - a great improvement. It's casualness was startling though. This incarnation of Disappointment was not that which was symbiotic with tragedy, but rather more along the lines of "You're out of chicken? Oh no. I really wanted chicken. Well, I guess I'll just have to go with the fish then..."

Essentially, I just thought (and not sarcastically), "Gee, I wish I hadn't have gotten yanked around so much. That kinda sucked. I should really make a point of not getting screwed over so much by romantic potentials. Note to self:..."

Hmmmm. Whatever. That was neither here nor there...
You know what I find positively hilarious? Those scenester-hipster-types who refuse to acknowledge that they are not above the societal bombardment of pop culture. Everyone who has any sense of cultural superiority over another demographic does this. - and we all do; it's called taste. Like some hoity-toity guy that wants to reference Ashlee Simpson and knows full well that she is Jessica's sister, has three annoying singles on the radio (one of which he knows the chorus), and fucked up on SNL. But rather than say, "God help us, Ashlee Simpson is in a movie," he chooses instead, "that sister of the girl on that show with the husband, what's-her-name is in a movie." Dude, you are so not fooling anyone. As much as you would love to believe that your little world is air-tight against cultural entities who you deem inferior, it's just really not. Especially not against such blatantly fabricated celebrities such as L'Ashlee. (It's also rather amusing that she genuinely believes herself to be an artist, an innovator. But it's all relative. Most of us had to be content with spewing our adolescent muck at bi-monthly high school coffee houses. She just gets to do that same thing in arenas.)

We all walk around with a Tiger Beat fountain of knowledge; most of us just choose to suppress it. As we should.