REPORT A PROBLEM
Dorm Room Window
I don't have anyone to identify with but myself. I need to find someone with the same kind of outlook. I am always a stranger wherever I go. I try to explain myself to her but all I get are blank stares. The last girl I trusted sold me a gram of K, claiming it was coke. Almost lapsing into a coma while she laughed. Live and learn. The last girl I loved left me with a broken jaw and two broken ribs because of the lies she told. And yet I have the last laugh. I will fly. Wings.
My girlfriend of two years and I are about to split up. She is in Portland and I am here. I was on the phone with her and we were both expressing how hard it is, this distance between us. She was crying and explaining to me how sorry she is for everything. I just sat on my end of the phone and occasionally agreed. Callus. Cold and reclusive. No one can hurt me now – I can't love. I wish it still hurt. I need a precise and delicate pain to ease this fear. Don't let me become a shell.
There lies a long day ahead of me tomorrow. Lots to do. My room mate woke me this morning – barged in yelling "I got pussy last night". While there is a time and a place for such banter, then was not the time. The fact that I know no one here helps some. Well, it leaves me more time to get things accomplished anyway. I need to start lifting weights again. I am shrinking. I believe we get one go at this. I am trying to make something out of myself here. I don't want to waste this life.
Do we all have a prearranged destiny? In some ways yes. Everything we do is caused by chemical reactions and electrical impulses in our brain. We are living out a course that was set into action by the coupling of our parent's genetic code. Freewill is a hoax.
I have been smoking to much weed recently – maybe. It has yet to start interfering with anything. Since I turned fifteen I have been smoking, snorting and occasionally shooting. I& #8217;d get clean for six months then start again. Not again. No more hard drugs. Just pot and the occasional binge drinking. Survival.
I still have all these childish insecurities I am not supposed to have. I shouldn't still be afraid of so much. I don't like being afraid of life. Now that I have moved out you would think I would be more capable of handling the world and creating. I haven't done anything to improve my person. My character is the same as when I left – I need discipline to improve my spirit, I need to find it in myself.
This may or may not make sense tomorrow. I am tired, so I rationalize and twist words.
I love you sweetie.
My words are starting to flow again; it is nice not to have to force them. The ability to write just like any other ability gets honed with practice and gets rusty if you let it. Selby said "If you want to be a writer, write."
I am in a good place tonight. I worked out today. Lifting weights is an anchor. It gives you a sense of familiarity. You walk into the gym, it feels the same. You curl, it feels the same. You bench press, it feels the same.
I miss those who are dear to me.
Life is good. I worked-out hard yesterday for the first time in awhile and the lactic acid build up is huge. My entire body is sore. There is nothing like it. Nothing I love more. It assures me I am going somewhere. Makes me feel like I am doing something. Tearing myself down to make myself more than I was. Bigger, faster, stronger.
I fear this constant drive to improve myself may destroy my sanity. A few days ago I was hearing voices. My grandma was schizophrenic. I should’ve never messed around with hallucinogens.
Now off to alter my mind.
She is beautiful. Olive skin and dark green eyes. Shoulder length hair that has a bit of a bounce when she steps. She is just thin enough. Perfect.
The best part about her though is the hand motions. Her arms swirl about in such a graceful manner that you would swear she is divinity.
Her boyfriend goes to OSU. He is a year older than her. I get the feeling she wants more than she has, though I have nothing to offer her.
My friend, rabbi, who coincidentally wants to be a Rabbi, says girls are too much trouble. Perhaps.
I want to do everything. I can't describe the feeling I have right now thinking about my prospects for the future. I ran sprints today and lifted pretty hard. Smoked a J and studied The Trial and Death of Socrates. Other than philosophy my classes are shit. I'm the only one I have to blame though. I'm stopping by the Education building in the next few days and switching majors.
I have always been discontented no matter what my situation. Never regretful, I’ve just always wanted more. New self, new body, new drugs. Americorps or the military is next.
Where did the last generation go wrong?
It wasn’t pointless war
Nor overuse of fossil fuels
Not pollution in our streams
Their sin? Allowing MTV to raise their children for them
A bit inebriated sitting, typing, listening to my neighbors. Jesus.< BR> College students who think the word “dictum” is funny
And not just funny, funny enough to shout over and over again on a bull-horn.
I desire more, but that alone isn’t righteous. It is desire based on reason, followed by an action meant implicitly to end that desire that is righteous. The ability to reason is key.
Every word makes my head pound further. PAIN. I get headaches so bad that they are hard to handle. I don't know what causes them. I just close my eyes.
We are finite. One minute your living, the next your not. This concerns some more than others. It causes some to question everything – what’s the point in anything if it& #8217;s going to end someday?
Death isn’t strange. The idea that molecules can come together to create a living thing, with memories and emotions, that is capable of interacting with other collections of molecules - that to me is strange.
Please don't let me be like her. She says she feels trapped but refuses to do anything to change her situation. There is no greater sin.
She is one of the smartest people I have ever met, yet can’t seem to understand that happiness doesn’t just come out of nowhere.
It takes effort. Wishing and hoping won’t get you a car or a job.
“But the system is designed to keep people like me down.& #8221; No, your lack of willingness to pursue what you want in life keeps you down. You have no one but yourself to blame.
It has been said that most good writers have poor social skills. Sadly, not all those with poor social skills are good writers.
I can’t find anything to break this monotony. As interested as I am in getting an education, I need something different. I never thought I would say this but perhaps I need people more than I previously thought. Or I just need to release this Sunday night sized load. AEP was supposed to call me tonight about some party, I guess it looks like I am off to the gym and then to the bong instead.
Some asshole back home was spreading rumors about me being engaged to my high school sweetheart because I went and knocked her up. It upset me at first, but it really doesn't matter. If I ever see the asshole I'll clock him, but it isn't important enough to dwell on right now.
I am enjoying my new Dojo. Sifu Suttles is a good man and I am looking forward to continuing my training. I have been reading up on Bruce Lee, as the school has a strong JKD influence. I hope I have the discipline to make it through.
I just dumped some water out of my window. Something we're not supposed to do, and for good reason I now see, as I accidentally splashed a girl. She thought someone puked on her. Needless to say she was happy it wasn't vomit, but still slightly irked that someone would have the gall not to make her the center of their universe.
So sorry I got your feet a bit wet.
A woman I met was explaining to me how lucky I am to be a guy. She told me women are shallow, catty and treacherous. I can’t disagree.
I have a fear of failure. Not on a micro level, but a macro one. I am not worried about failing tests or getting poor grades, I am worried about failing at living. I am upset at the thought I might die alone and cold. I am worried I will work a job I hate five days a week eight hours a day for the rest of my life.
I will do absolutely everything in my power to prevent these things from happening. I swear on everything sacred to me, I will achieve. You can’t take desire away from me.
For a long time I thought high school was when the alienation started, but now I realize it has always been there. My parents thought it started in high school also, because that's when I started to look angry and depressed all the time. High school wasn't when I started feeling alienated; it was when I realized the alienation wasn't going to stop.
Last spring I tasted what it is not to be alienated. It was brief and wonderful. If a girl makes eye contact these days I feel myself return to those days.
Everything means more coming from nothing.
She called me crying "I was soooooo drunk, please don't be mad at me Gabe."
Mind you, I have no right to be hurt with my history of infidelity, but even without the right, I still hurt. I have done more for that girl than anyone I can remember. I talked to her at three AM when she was crying. Nightly. I am aware of all her little fetishes. You want me to do what? Wear a ski mask? I went to all her family events with her. I put up with all her shit, for this? I am done.
Why do I have such bad luck w/ girls? There was the one that was crazy and believed her own lies, the one that cut herself and told the world I did it, and the one I thought I could trust slept with someone else. The worst part about it is I am not in a familiar place. I am alone, no one here knows me. I have no human to talk to about this.
So I’ll write. I’ll burn through a bowl. I’ll listen to Gun N’ Roses.
I take solace in the knowledge I will achieve. Fuck her.
She used to squish up her face and stick her lips out like a fish when she wanted a kiss. She wiggled her feet when she was happy. I won't forget that.
I asked her questions with the intention of hurting both myself and her. Was he any good? Did you get off? She said it was exciting because it was different...and that she couldn't compare us if she wanted to because it was just completely different.
This is more her loss than mine. I wish her well.
Please, take care of yourself sweetie because I’m no longer going to.
Today is going well. I confronted the problem and moved on. She hurt herself more than she hurt me. She is the one who is crying. She is the one who is begging. I still love her – so I will do my best to console her, but we are through. I am human; I can’t turn my back on her after two years no matter what happened, at the same time I can’t allow myself to be tied down in her shit. She did this, not me. She fucked up, not me.
She needs to know; I am no saint.
I have been having trouble falling asleep these past few days. I close my eyes and my mind takes me places I don't want to go. In the past I have believed that the only way to get past horror thoughts is to let them run their course, my beliefs have changed. I lay awake in bed every night and try to keep reminding myself of the good things in life. The fact I am alive and get to experience existence. Living in and of itself is beautiful.
I am 18 and I fear I am getting old too quickly.
I am going to be starting up a new website. At first it will just be an index of former projects; two issues of a now dead zine with details about the fallout of distributing it at school, the details about project phallus which was my personal crusade against corporations in public schools, and a few articles. It is shit now but I have big plans for it.
I feel bad about misleading so many people in the past. Lying to spare others feeling only hurts them more in the long run. From now on I will follow my heart.
To move. To see, to touch, to breath. All gifts. To take pleasure in a sunset or a lovers touch is something we all do, but pleasure can also come from the small things. The instant you step into a hot shower or a sip of cold water when you are thirsty. To live a full life you must learn to take pleasure in the small things.
Warm and cold, sorrow and joy. The ying and the yang of existing. Bearing this in mind I feel extremely privileged to have been given the opportunities I have. Content and discontent. Both.
It's odd how sometimes words flow and at other times it is a struggle to write anything. It's only 9:30, I am planning on turning in a bit early tonight. Next month I think I might try writing in the mornings instead of at night. I bet my outlook would change, I might write more about the future instead of the past. Writing about the past often is a means of introspection. Writing about the future can also be a means of introspection, but perhaps it would allow introspection from a different perspective leading to new insight. I don't know.
Whenever I think that I might at least be an adequate writer, or even have hope that I will be someday I read a few lines from the redneck manifesto or anything written by Bukowski and realize exactly how inadequate I am.
I want to make a difference somehow, I just can’t figure out how. The need exists but the means may not. My talent in everything seems insufficient. Traveling and seeing the world may help, though I suspect the answer to this problem lies inside not out.
Someday I will find where I fit. Someday I hope.
It was a long day, my lids are heavy. My hands peck sluggishly at the keys. I don't still want to be awake. My roommate is watching Van Wilder. Not a bad movie but not a great film to fall asleep to. I am going to call Mike tomorrow; hopefully I will get the chance to see him before the New Year. We were supposed to go to Vegas sometime last year, it never happened though. I really need to travel soon. I might head down the coast at the end of this summer. I just need a like mind.
It's a shame I have a math class tomorrow morning.
I got drunk with a small number of ultra-conservative Jews, not tonight, last month. It was a good night, all in all. I got drunk, praised god, and smoked some cigs. I am Jewish by the way, so I wasn’t completely out of place. The wine and gin I drank twisted my stomach into something altogether god awful the following morning. I couldn’t eat anything all day. I smoked a bowl about four o’ clock and it helped a bit. I don’t know why this is relevant, but it is.
I need to write a five page philosophy paper on what roll, if any, faith should play in a rational life.
Definitions - Faith "is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see," (Hebrews 11.1); rational means "based on or agreeable to reason" (Webster's Dictionary).
This is going to be a difficult paper. Can reason and faith coexist in ones mind? Or are reason and faith complete opposites on a fundamental level. It’s such a large issue that the most difficult part is finding a starting point. Tomorrow I will stop procrastinating.
Tomorrow is my business midterm. Of course I am under prepared. Fifty questions. I will turn in for the night after I write these words. I have spent all day writing papers. I need to find sometime tomorrow to get to the gym. It's been a long week and it is only half over. I got three e-mails, unrelated e-mails, from three unrelated old friends this week, hopefully Christmas time I will see at least two of them. I don't know how I am going to pay my rent next month. At least I have a while to find out.
Drinking is different that smoking pot in that you pay for your sins the following morning when you drink. Be it a headache, a spinning world or just feeling like shit in general. Tomorrow I will pay for my sins tonight. I went to seven-eleven earlier and I haven't a clue what I ordered. I need to go buy stamps and envelopes tomorrow. Bed sounds like by far the best idea I have had in awhile.
I am trying to fight off a nicotine addiction. That shit sneaks up on you. Fuckin’ cigarettes. I really wish I had orange juice.
The Tip Jar