Martin and I went to BJ's Pizza for lunch and then took in the movie, "Hitch" all over in the Tustin Market Place. He made a comment that I make him feel calm and it was a warm feeling hearing that. While looking for parking, I swore that I saw Anthony and his wife, Beth. (From my high school years) I got out of the car and sure enough it was them, with their son. What a very nice surprise. They're here until visa paperwork processes for them to go back to Pakistan.
Coincidence that I should see them while on my own soul search? I'd have to guess not.
Dustin, Justin & Kyle, and Jerry. New names in the mix. Don't know how serious or not they will become as friends or more so I'll just leave it with mentions.
I made peep upset. I feel bad. What's done is done and like he said, he's moved on. That's best I think.
So Las Vegas in the morning. A brief Nathan visit. A road trip with Arturo. A brief reprieve from SoCal and my stirring.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Writing @ The Library
I think banana cream pie or banana cream cheesecakes are the tiny moments of happiness that blur out those other times of pain. So many people asking how I'm doing, but I really don't have an answer for them. I don't know the words to say. So I tell them the same. Then there's a strange silence and I feel their worry and I feel my anxiety at their worry and I think these are the moments that my doctor prescribed Klonopin for--Ha Ha--but I don't take one. Maybe I should just keep a slice of banana cream pie with me at all times so I can take a bite the next time one of those moments arises. (Or maybe someday I'll have an answer worth giving)
I didn't go to Thrust last night. Tonight, I tagged along with Art to Long Beach on an excursion to coffeehouses. We're at The Library now. It hasn't changed that much in ten years. I wonder how many of the books on the shelf are the same from the first time I came here. The conversations are the same. The laughter is the same. The horoscope at the cash register says that whatever I do tonight I should not be alone. So, I'm not. I'm surrounded by the bustle of life and I'm writing and this must be some fragment of what it is to be in touch with myself. This must be some string to hold on to and feel alive. Because if I know that nothing has changed here and I remember being happy in the space then I must be able to reach that space in my again. Yes? No?
What's different now? There are fewer friends in my life. Fewer support systems. I feel very much alone. I have felt like this state I'm in--or am still moving toward--has been steadily coming on for years. Maybe during the time that Randy and I were together, but definitely afterwards as I lost that closeness and intimacy. Nathan and I have distance. Cardwell and I have had each other and I"m thankful for that, but in the past we had each other in tandem with all that was around us and now I feel too much leaning on him or too much dependence. I know that I feel that all sides of me are not being accessed and/or utilized through a network of different friends.
I'm writing with a pen, been some time. Feels nice. The ink bleeds a little more than I'd like, but the glide is just perfect. The noise around me is dying and now I can hear the music that was obscured. There are vexing voices. There are meek mouths. There is a guitar strumming and I think about the infinite that I don't know and how I've always used knowledge. I was conditioned to know things for the sake of knowing it and not to apply it for any practical purpose. Thinking about thinking thoughts thought.
So can I do it? Can I write and finish this novel/book idea in the next month or so? I never actually do it when I start thinking or talking about doing it. I find a distraction. Look here, I've had a month and a half of free time and no turn-out of artistic expression. I know, I know...time to heal, to become whole again. It's the torture sometimes that reminds me of the artist inside. I think that there might be a lot I can say worth writing and worth others reading. Soaring there is air propelling thoughts out, down, around. I feel this yearning to be in an environment where I can be cultivated--or just grow.
My cell phone is logged into Mobile IM. Nothing too serious can be typed out, so I ask Martin what is going to fix this Middle East mess and he responds that the gays will save the day. Ha ha...that's funny. I'm seeing a whole pink & lavender brigade charging forward with Big Gay Al from Southpark leading them.
Drink more water. Walk more. Get up earlier. No more sleeping past 10am. Play. Be the me in time who was sublime.
I didn't go to Thrust last night. Tonight, I tagged along with Art to Long Beach on an excursion to coffeehouses. We're at The Library now. It hasn't changed that much in ten years. I wonder how many of the books on the shelf are the same from the first time I came here. The conversations are the same. The laughter is the same. The horoscope at the cash register says that whatever I do tonight I should not be alone. So, I'm not. I'm surrounded by the bustle of life and I'm writing and this must be some fragment of what it is to be in touch with myself. This must be some string to hold on to and feel alive. Because if I know that nothing has changed here and I remember being happy in the space then I must be able to reach that space in my again. Yes? No?
What's different now? There are fewer friends in my life. Fewer support systems. I feel very much alone. I have felt like this state I'm in--or am still moving toward--has been steadily coming on for years. Maybe during the time that Randy and I were together, but definitely afterwards as I lost that closeness and intimacy. Nathan and I have distance. Cardwell and I have had each other and I"m thankful for that, but in the past we had each other in tandem with all that was around us and now I feel too much leaning on him or too much dependence. I know that I feel that all sides of me are not being accessed and/or utilized through a network of different friends.
I'm writing with a pen, been some time. Feels nice. The ink bleeds a little more than I'd like, but the glide is just perfect. The noise around me is dying and now I can hear the music that was obscured. There are vexing voices. There are meek mouths. There is a guitar strumming and I think about the infinite that I don't know and how I've always used knowledge. I was conditioned to know things for the sake of knowing it and not to apply it for any practical purpose. Thinking about thinking thoughts thought.
So can I do it? Can I write and finish this novel/book idea in the next month or so? I never actually do it when I start thinking or talking about doing it. I find a distraction. Look here, I've had a month and a half of free time and no turn-out of artistic expression. I know, I know...time to heal, to become whole again. It's the torture sometimes that reminds me of the artist inside. I think that there might be a lot I can say worth writing and worth others reading. Soaring there is air propelling thoughts out, down, around. I feel this yearning to be in an environment where I can be cultivated--or just grow.
My cell phone is logged into Mobile IM. Nothing too serious can be typed out, so I ask Martin what is going to fix this Middle East mess and he responds that the gays will save the day. Ha ha...that's funny. I'm seeing a whole pink & lavender brigade charging forward with Big Gay Al from Southpark leading them.
Drink more water. Walk more. Get up earlier. No more sleeping past 10am. Play. Be the me in time who was sublime.
Ty-ing Knots
I didn't go out tonight because I thought a good night's rest would be prudent. I thought that I should start getting some of this required volunteering out of the way and wake up early. Here I am past 12, can't sleep. It's been a strange week.
I find myself so sad. I start to think about constructive ways of moving out of this... Not just following the steps that I'm obligated to do, but beyond... like what I'll do for work. What types of jobs will I enjoy or wish to do? I find this contructive thinking and planning then brings about a conflict in me. This very organized and structured side of my thinking can logically put together a resume, write a cover letter and prepare for an interview to sell myself to "do" something in the office and corporate environment.... I've proven I'm good at it and I know I can do it--there's no challenge to it. But what if there was a challenge?? I still wouldn't want to do it. There's something that my soul is not getting.
Love is never everything. It is that one thing that romantics cling to as the saviour to all things, but it really is just one plank to walk in taming relationships. Why do I choose my words carefully sometimes? Because I don't want anyone to be hurt by not understanding what I mean. Especially right now... (sigh) My body temperature is rising. I can feel sweat all over.
Some kid is getting 30yrs for killing his grandparents. Christopher Pittman. The defense was that the SSRI drugs changed his chemistry and without them he wouldn't have done this. I think that we are playing god without the manual. Sure all of these anti-depressant drugs seem to make a change in the majority of people's lives, but the manufacturers don't even known how or why. It's guessed. Educated, but still, a guess. So it's reasonable to me to assume that there are going to be a percentage of the population for whom these drugs are not going to have the "common" effect. This lead me back to my own conflicts.... and I sense this pull from East and West. And i want answers... and I'm looking for them.... and I hope that my subconscious has a better time soothing me than I can do for myself while conscious.
Randy has been very quiety lately. I know he's been tired, but it's strange to be around him when he's not speaking. It's almost like being around a stranger. Or maybe there's something on his mind that he has not shared with me. I don't know for sure. I just know that it's different.
Let's try that sleep again.
I find myself so sad. I start to think about constructive ways of moving out of this... Not just following the steps that I'm obligated to do, but beyond... like what I'll do for work. What types of jobs will I enjoy or wish to do? I find this contructive thinking and planning then brings about a conflict in me. This very organized and structured side of my thinking can logically put together a resume, write a cover letter and prepare for an interview to sell myself to "do" something in the office and corporate environment.... I've proven I'm good at it and I know I can do it--there's no challenge to it. But what if there was a challenge?? I still wouldn't want to do it. There's something that my soul is not getting.
Love is never everything. It is that one thing that romantics cling to as the saviour to all things, but it really is just one plank to walk in taming relationships. Why do I choose my words carefully sometimes? Because I don't want anyone to be hurt by not understanding what I mean. Especially right now... (sigh) My body temperature is rising. I can feel sweat all over.
Some kid is getting 30yrs for killing his grandparents. Christopher Pittman. The defense was that the SSRI drugs changed his chemistry and without them he wouldn't have done this. I think that we are playing god without the manual. Sure all of these anti-depressant drugs seem to make a change in the majority of people's lives, but the manufacturers don't even known how or why. It's guessed. Educated, but still, a guess. So it's reasonable to me to assume that there are going to be a percentage of the population for whom these drugs are not going to have the "common" effect. This lead me back to my own conflicts.... and I sense this pull from East and West. And i want answers... and I'm looking for them.... and I hope that my subconscious has a better time soothing me than I can do for myself while conscious.
Randy has been very quiety lately. I know he's been tired, but it's strange to be around him when he's not speaking. It's almost like being around a stranger. Or maybe there's something on his mind that he has not shared with me. I don't know for sure. I just know that it's different.
Let's try that sleep again.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Walt Disney Triangles
I'm just sitting here in bed watching TV and I'm thinking that I should be doing something..... going somewhere.... It's a sense of restlessness. I've decided that I'm not going to talk online tonight; not going to distract myself from myself. So here goes the writing. I start thinking about other times that I allow myself inside of my own head like this and it's when I'm running or walking long distances. :::a little laughter::: Why? Because the honesty and raw "jeremy" that's printed in this blog over the past several years is more intimate than I've ever been with anyone face to face and probably the only time that I am with myself.
There's this common topic that several people have raised with me, "What is it that you want to do?" I get asked the question and the head goes blank. I don't really want to go to school. I don't really want to work for a large corporation with bullshit bullshit bullshit. All the while I think, "It doesn't matter what I do because I'll get bored with it anyway." This is the way it's always been and the way I figure it will continue to be. So what then?? Temp work? Hmm... Perhaps that leftover elitist part of me still frowns upon the idea. I suppose it makes sense in many ways. I work when I want to work.... haha. The idea does nothing to fill me with a sense of stability and safety. The what if's are running track 'round my skull. So much adventure that I've forgone because I've lived a life of default. The life that our society and culture would have all its citizens live.
Byron's birthday tomorrow. 28. Dinner in Claremont. Hung out with Shannon last night. Strange how we've known about each other for probably close to 12 years and last night was the first "real" conversation we had. Don't know what's up with Tyler, the adult in me doesn't really care, the passioinate side of me does still a bit. Alex is on his trip in NYC. This last Tuesday at Thrust was fun. Gee... go figure. It's a nice release for me and I'm around friends.
The years.
There's this common topic that several people have raised with me, "What is it that you want to do?" I get asked the question and the head goes blank. I don't really want to go to school. I don't really want to work for a large corporation with bullshit bullshit bullshit. All the while I think, "It doesn't matter what I do because I'll get bored with it anyway." This is the way it's always been and the way I figure it will continue to be. So what then?? Temp work? Hmm... Perhaps that leftover elitist part of me still frowns upon the idea. I suppose it makes sense in many ways. I work when I want to work.... haha. The idea does nothing to fill me with a sense of stability and safety. The what if's are running track 'round my skull. So much adventure that I've forgone because I've lived a life of default. The life that our society and culture would have all its citizens live.
Byron's birthday tomorrow. 28. Dinner in Claremont. Hung out with Shannon last night. Strange how we've known about each other for probably close to 12 years and last night was the first "real" conversation we had. Don't know what's up with Tyler, the adult in me doesn't really care, the passioinate side of me does still a bit. Alex is on his trip in NYC. This last Tuesday at Thrust was fun. Gee... go figure. It's a nice release for me and I'm around friends.
The years.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Summerland vs. Charmed
Super what? Lori Laughjlin and Constance Burge's creations instead. I've found myself drawn into the characters, regarless of the acting. I hear the words and connect some type of emotion to them. I'm not sure out of want or out of some provocation from the drama.
Had dinner with mom at Olive Garden. Leftovers are in the fridge.
I have this feeling that my phone will ring early in the morning.
Had dinner with mom at Olive Garden. Leftovers are in the fridge.
I have this feeling that my phone will ring early in the morning.
Reflections of Time
TNT is showing "I Am Sam." I started reading journal entries from almost two years ago. Sentimental. I had a long talk with Art tonight. I'm glad to have him in my life. He is one of those connections of energy that I have always been able to find without trying. "You are beautiful, no matter what they say..." Do these lines seem disconnected? There's a flashing green light on my keyboard that I've only recently noticed. Since I've been using the web-based mail instead of outlook express the flashing was to remind me of mail I had already read. So you see... these lines are not disconnected.
Sometimes we need those reminders.
Sometimes we need those reminders.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Stones, Marbles and Concrete
So I'm back in a boat that I've circled the world in before. There's water all around me, but my eyes are dry and meds make me the Johnson & Johnson adult version of the baby with "no more tears." I smile and laugh and people say that they see that change, but it's only on the outside and the boat hasn't changed.
"She said insanity will set you free but lock you up inside your mind."
-Cause & Effect's song "She Said"
It's almost Thursday. I'd give almost anything to fall on the ground laughing right now; tears streaming down my face in disbelief. (Like the day with Randy on the drive home from Las Vegas.) Motivation? I find myself seeking to fix things, clean things, put order to things. I'm fearful that I'm just going to end up in another cycle around the world. I'm going to get another job, I'm going to get another car to put me into a debt to pay it off and I'm going to keep this job to pay for these things that I have. Why? I find no happiness in this and I can find no reason that appeals to my emotions a to why it must be done. (Why the millions of Americans do it each day.) I know some have a faith to steer them, some are just purely greedy, some are ambitious and altruistic, some don't even ask the question of themselves and some are in this boat with me.
There's this tenderness in me.
I can feel my soul crying and as I put my head down on my mattress in the hope that gravity will pull a tear out, I just feel that medication bringing me back to center.....(pause)
...I just spent the last 30minutes on a tangent. Started computing finances, organizing paperwork, returning an e-mail to a girl that I used to go to community college with. I become easily focused on these tasks I've noticed since the meds started...almost as if they stop me from allowing myself to be consumed by my grief. That's good and bad. The bottle has to blow sometime.
So what's good?... I'm drinking lots of water and trying to avoid soda. Yay! An active sex life. Yay! (distractions) I'm almost completely done cleaning my closet. Yay! I have my family and friends--the only real assets that I care about. I wish they could quell what's inside of me, but they're powerless to do so and that makes them sad. (scared) There's air to breathe and TV to watch. Yay! I'm really fishing now....
"She said insanity will set you free but lock you up inside your mind."
-Cause & Effect's song "She Said"
It's almost Thursday. I'd give almost anything to fall on the ground laughing right now; tears streaming down my face in disbelief. (Like the day with Randy on the drive home from Las Vegas.) Motivation? I find myself seeking to fix things, clean things, put order to things. I'm fearful that I'm just going to end up in another cycle around the world. I'm going to get another job, I'm going to get another car to put me into a debt to pay it off and I'm going to keep this job to pay for these things that I have. Why? I find no happiness in this and I can find no reason that appeals to my emotions a to why it must be done. (Why the millions of Americans do it each day.) I know some have a faith to steer them, some are just purely greedy, some are ambitious and altruistic, some don't even ask the question of themselves and some are in this boat with me.
There's this tenderness in me.
I can feel my soul crying and as I put my head down on my mattress in the hope that gravity will pull a tear out, I just feel that medication bringing me back to center.....(pause)
...I just spent the last 30minutes on a tangent. Started computing finances, organizing paperwork, returning an e-mail to a girl that I used to go to community college with. I become easily focused on these tasks I've noticed since the meds started...almost as if they stop me from allowing myself to be consumed by my grief. That's good and bad. The bottle has to blow sometime.
So what's good?... I'm drinking lots of water and trying to avoid soda. Yay! An active sex life. Yay! (distractions) I'm almost completely done cleaning my closet. Yay! I have my family and friends--the only real assets that I care about. I wish they could quell what's inside of me, but they're powerless to do so and that makes them sad. (scared) There's air to breathe and TV to watch. Yay! I'm really fishing now....
Sunday, January 16, 2005
In The Presence of Others
I'm finding I less and less tolerance being around loud people or big groups. I listen to their conversations and they do not interest me. I can't even feign interest. So I walk away or find some busywork to keep me active but around them. One part of me understands them so well, the other part of me is still disconnected and unlikely to change. I can still get excited about things, events, certain people.....perhaps this is just a part of getting older.
Or maybe today is just a crash day. When I woke up on Friday morning at 9:30am, I didn't go to sleep again until about 2am this morning. I slept until 11:30am. I woke up feeling fine but something just changed being around the people who had spent the night. They went right to drinking again, and drinking, and drinking. The noise level of voices, shrill voices, laughing (cackling). It wasn't long before a headache came on. So I've been withdrawn today.
Went to the movies by myself and saw Elektra. It was ok. Left open for some type of sequel if the box office numbers do well. I'm back at Randy's house now. Rey & Eddy are still here, the last of the party crew. Even though I like them all, I find that I have nothing to say to them. When I go downstairs and sit, I'm just observing them as though I'm not really there. These meds are almost at 14 days and I don't really notice a difference. I tell others to let me know if they do. I still feel no motivation to do anything. I am looking for solace in physical itimacies, nothing sexual, just affection. The touch of someone I'm interested in brings my spirits up--always has in a way that family and friends can never achieve. I think it's that implied knowledge of safety with someone on a level to know the sensitive part of me. In those moments my guard is down and I'm not using all this energy just to smile because it's naturally occurring. Tyler was supposed to come to the housewarming party last night but never showed. I was really looking forward to seeing him. Maybe that has effected my mood today. No phone call or communication that he couldn't make it. I hope he's ok and didn't get into an accident or hurt somehow, but other than that thought I think, "How typical for someone who's only 19."
Could days left to drive. Eh. I'm not bothered by the thought because I went 4months last year without driving. What I would like is for the insurance company to let me know whether my car is a total loss or if they're fixing it. Finances.... hate this shit.
So what to do with the rest of the night? It's 7:30pm now. Maybe some TV?
Or maybe today is just a crash day. When I woke up on Friday morning at 9:30am, I didn't go to sleep again until about 2am this morning. I slept until 11:30am. I woke up feeling fine but something just changed being around the people who had spent the night. They went right to drinking again, and drinking, and drinking. The noise level of voices, shrill voices, laughing (cackling). It wasn't long before a headache came on. So I've been withdrawn today.
Went to the movies by myself and saw Elektra. It was ok. Left open for some type of sequel if the box office numbers do well. I'm back at Randy's house now. Rey & Eddy are still here, the last of the party crew. Even though I like them all, I find that I have nothing to say to them. When I go downstairs and sit, I'm just observing them as though I'm not really there. These meds are almost at 14 days and I don't really notice a difference. I tell others to let me know if they do. I still feel no motivation to do anything. I am looking for solace in physical itimacies, nothing sexual, just affection. The touch of someone I'm interested in brings my spirits up--always has in a way that family and friends can never achieve. I think it's that implied knowledge of safety with someone on a level to know the sensitive part of me. In those moments my guard is down and I'm not using all this energy just to smile because it's naturally occurring. Tyler was supposed to come to the housewarming party last night but never showed. I was really looking forward to seeing him. Maybe that has effected my mood today. No phone call or communication that he couldn't make it. I hope he's ok and didn't get into an accident or hurt somehow, but other than that thought I think, "How typical for someone who's only 19."
Could days left to drive. Eh. I'm not bothered by the thought because I went 4months last year without driving. What I would like is for the insurance company to let me know whether my car is a total loss or if they're fixing it. Finances.... hate this shit.
So what to do with the rest of the night? It's 7:30pm now. Maybe some TV?
Friday, January 14, 2005
What's Money Worth?
I was having a conversation with someone about someone and someone's grandmother. Not all there, losing it. I remember great-grandma getting to the same way, she was put into a home, but I don't ever remember anyone in our family thinking of her as a burden. When she passed, there was money--that I knew nothing about--that was distributed to the grandchildren. I used it to take a trip to New Orleans. It was an experience that I'll never forget and one I never would have had without the money that was left to me.
But I would have gladly not have gone to New Orleans if she were still here.
But I would have gladly not have gone to New Orleans if she were still here.
