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:: 2009 8 December :: 9.19pm

"This is what I'm learning from this trip; I need friends, true friends, talk deeply, laugh deeply friends. And I need self-control. I need to not get away from myself or my best intentions. And I need to really live, really connect, really be human. Really.

I need to love, really. That's important. I need to be as human as I can without being human at everyone else's expense."

June 21st, 2009

How do people loose sight of moments like these?



:: 2009 7 October :: 11.45am

Those are the things that stun me.

Life has so much continuity, it gives me goose bumps.



:: 2009 17 September :: 3.56pm

I was there. I took the step, I bridged the gap.

I'm still afraid, and I'm still dodging my best intentions, letting myself get away from myself.

I know who I am. He's not just coming into view, but exploding into Technicolor.

This is without system or method- I know that's hard for people to understand. Everyone feels abandoned by me, but it's not abandonment. It's just a newer (older?) me.

And this is deep. A lot deeper than anything I've ever experienced. Quiet, calm, almost still- but the vibrancy is undeniable and inescapable. I've always been afraid I would lose it, but I think it's been chasing me all along.

He's there, but he's very different than I expected. I expected either loud or quiet, fun or solemn. I expected him to fit.

And it's ironic. What I realized was how bad I need people, and what I did was ignore all of them.

I feel awful- but it's just begun.

And she's right, haahaha. She's got us pegged. I wonder if they all accept that better than I realized? They don't protest.

I never knew as much as I thought. But this is freedom, and I like it a little better.

1 spoke | speak


:: 2009 7 May :: 9.57pm

Baby I've been here before,
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
but love is not a victory march
it's a cold
and it's a broken


I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you.
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the lord of song
with nothing on my tongue

but hallelujah.

1 spoke | speak


:: 2009 1 April :: 10.18pm

I remember that beach. Dinner on the porch, everyone dressed well. The heat lamps and laughter and the unity of awe over the sunset on the water. The feel, the vibrancy, the laughter, and closeness in the air.

Like the square, with the fountains and all the prayer.

It's everything this cold, empty, loneliness isn't.

I guess I know how much it meant to me. Such a small thing, but now that it's gone, I feel like I've lost the whole world.

I love you, man. Never doubt that. And I'm on your side, when it does come to sides. And really, so is he, even if that doesn't mean a thing to you.

Still my friend...but not the same. It changes nothing, but everything's different.

I don't get it either, I just wish things were the way they were. I wish we were eating dinner on that beach. I wish we were in that square, arms locked. I pray that tonight, as I sleep, those memories will pass through my mind a hundred times. I love those memories.

I have regrets. I can't deny that. I've treated you like shit, and I turned a shoulder when you needed me the most. I see that now. But I never turned my back, and it couldn't have been that way forever. Things move on, people grow up, and maybe that's what this is all about. Or maybe it's about being young.

I know how this will end, I guess. One of two ways, and either is fine because it's your choice. But I'm a liar and a false friend if I tell you I'm not scared.

My God,
You know it's true; I am so scared.



:: 2009 13 February :: 2.12pm

Cats have nine lives, the saying goes. You have one; and somewhere along the thin, tenuous thread of your existence there is the black knot, the blood clot, the stopped heartbeat that spells the end of this particular individual which is spelled "I" and "You" and "Sylvia." So you wonder how to act, and how to be - and you wonder about values and attitudes. In the relativism and despair, in the waiting for the bombs to begin, for the blood (now spurting in Korea, in Germany, In Russia) to flow and trickle before your own eyes, you wonder with a quick sick fear how to cling to earth, to the seeds of grass and life. You wonder about your eighteen years, ricocheting between a stubborn determination that you've done well for your own capabilities and opportunities ...and a fear that your haven't done well enough. You wonder if you've got what it takes to keep building up obstacle courses for yourself, and to keep leaping through them, sprained ankle or not. Again, the refrain, what have you for your eighteen years? And you know that whatever tangible things you do have they cannot be held, but, too, will decompose and slip away through your coarse skinned and death-rigid fingers. So you will rot in the ground, and so you say, who cares? But you care, and somehow you don't want to live just one life, which could be tossed off in a thumbnail sketch: "She was the sort of girl..." And end in 25 words or less. You want to live as many lives as you can...




:: 2009 22 January :: 10.38pm

Sometimes I'm made of clay, and sometimes steel. I'm either waiting for the hands to mold me, create me, and put me through fire or I'm cold and still, isolated. I know I should always be clay, but I always want to be steel. Nonetheless, sometimes I'm made of clay, and sometimes steel.

I just want to know if there's such thing as a should.

I feel like there is, in the deepest corners of my soul. But my brain tells me other wise.

I can't help but feel that my brain tells me wrong. I can't be both steel and clay, but I have to.

I want to. I want to be that nobody that is everything and knows everyone, but is still nobody.

That's the kind of person I want to be.

But I'm not.

1 spoke | speak


:: 2008 12 December :: 11.08am

I found my computer, I aced my History final, all my grades are being submitted today, I'm going to eat pho in two hours.

But I still don't know if I'm accepted to Whitworth for (potentially) six more hours. I might shit myself.

1 spoke | speak


:: 2008 31 October :: 12.18am

And so she limps back into port.

Why the hell am I not doing my homework?

5 spoke | speak


:: 2008 12 October :: 9.48pm

The cynicism that wants to say I'm just chasing memories is dying away. I'm not, and what would it even matter if I was?

I can't be too concerned with this. I just need the emotional detox from time to time. It's a way out of myself and into something else.

I'm exhausted.

Every time I launch down one of these intellectual tangents I find myself back in this place. Answerless.

I'm not an academic, God forbid I should ever be. What a worthless, pitiful, miserable waste of life. Do I want to spend the rest of my days comforting myself with the illusion that by faking omniscience and judging others I'm some how pushing the progress of humanity? Fifty thousand years of human experience and all we've managed to "progress" to is some fancy gadgets and the undermining of moral uniformity. What do we award people Nobel prizes for again?

We have not changed. We will not change. Unless we evolve into something else (which we won't, thankfully, because the general public doesn't look favorably on social Darwinism) we will never move past our shadow.

I refuse (and please, please hold me to this) to devote my life to figuring anything out. I'm not God, I don't want to be. I just want to love people. That's all. Love God, love people, and that's it. That's all I've got left in me.

I've exhausted my ability to understand. I'm done with the books and the debates. I'm done with academia. I don't care. I don't care because I don't understand, and I don't care because I don't think anyone else understands either.

Lewis got to a point where he said, "I have no answers anymore; only the life I have lived."

I have been so blindingly afraid of coming to that point because it seems illegitimate, even scandalous for and eighteen year old of a mediocre intellect to make the same claims as one of the twentieth century's philosophical giants made, much less at the end of his life.

Nonetheless, here I stand. I haven't any answers. I don't want answers, I want life. I want love. I'm done with this philosophical wall-flowering. I don't want an outside perspective, an objective view. I want to be in the thick of it, and know it first hand. I don't think there is any teacher more legitimate than experience, and experience is not objective.

8 spoke | speak


:: 2008 28 September :: 10.50pm

And maybe, on that note, it's better not to make a big deal out of all this. This isn't a revelation, it's a return to normalcy. It's not an addition, it's just putting it all back together. And nothing's different, it's just complete.

So I'm just me.

And what I feel at this moment is overwhelming love for almost everyone I can think of. Which feels a lot like me.



:: 2008 28 September :: 8.52pm

Kirsten and I have been dating eleven months tomorrow. Which makes today the eleventh month since I chickened out on asking her out.



:: 2008 28 September :: 8.46pm

As for the crocs thing, my dad had bought him and I a pair because they were on blow out and, more importantly, actually in our size (we have the same shoe size).

I was offended. No idea why. I can't begin to explain why it would've offended me, it just did. It was insulting.

I've always thought they looked a little silly, but I've never felt strongly about them.

I wore them around for a while and they actually grew on me. With wool socks, it's like wearing slippers but lighter.



:: 2008 28 September :: 8.43pm

Gender is a strange thing.



:: 2008 13 September :: 11.19pm

Why would I have an ethical aversion to wearing crocs?

6 spoke | speak

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