wanton

So apparently I flirt with everyone. And apparently flirting is just being friendly. And apparently it is hard for some people to be friendly. And I hate large groups of people.

I mean I love them because they energize me somehow and I get to pretend like I belong for a little while. But I hate them because I dont ever feel like I can quite find where I belong in them. I flit from person to person that I actually do know and try my best to make some kind of flimsy connection in the midst of what my brain can only process as utter chaos. I become happy, partially because that is the only image I seem to be able to maintain in any form, and partially from the sudden rush of energy that I obtain from interacting with other people. Ironically it is exhausting in the end to have so much energy. I feel excited because I am playing a million roles and then I become weary from trying to maintain them. To still be who each person knows me as even though I can't be who I normally am. Never do I realize how many different people I am until I am in a large group setting. I think it is this energy, this desire to connect, that comes across as friendliness or flirting... only my desperate attempts at actually fitting in for once.

I wonder if friendship is a good idea on any level, and why we don't question it more often. It seems to be one of those immortal truths that friends enrich your life... when really all the enrichment many friendships bring they get recompensated for by sucking me dry. If friendship, love, monogamy, hope, faith, God Himself are in question... what matters after that? One could imagine a society where all interactions with other human beings were strictly impersonal business. It might be nice. But I dont want nice... I want everything.

Reason itself in the end falls flat on its face and becomes strictly meaningless... like moneys. I find myself going to my friends and trying to exchange my currency for theirs and ending up with something that never quite adds up for me. (Oh my metaphors). I am saying simply put that as little as I understand myself at least I often understand my "reasoning" even if it is primitive at best. When speaking with others I cannot even begin to see what they think is reasonable about certain of their actions that I could never myself perceive as reasonable. And in the end does being reasonable really make something right? If there was a perfectly reasonable being would he be God? I think humans are constantly a few feet short of reason. I think we do the best we can with limited knowledge. I dont think that human beings are capable of being reasonable. And perhaps the whole concept of "reasonable" should be replaced by "it makes sense to me based off of what I know."

Some people said some hurtful things to me this past week. I dont think I am going to recover from certain blows any time soon, and I dont think they care if I do really. It is just as well. "The squeaky wheel gets the grease" is a thing of the past the new phrase is "The whiny wheel gets left behind." But maybe they will be better back there.

All I know in the end is that there is only so much I can do to make people happy. I try to respect their choices and feelings and reasonings but in the end I am the one who feels guilty and noone cares. My choices, my feelings, my reasonings necesarily get shelved in my attempts to appease what I can only perceive as misguided behavior. People who cant handle the truth shouldnt ask for it. And people who want me to make them feel special can never realize how much i am trying to do that for everyone all of the time.

There comes a time when enough is enough and I have tried my hardest too many times and I dont really give up but i am exhausted and my best effort is certainly not being made.

Fairy Fay

I got to argue that we shouldnt judge Hitler today. Not that he shouldnt go to Hell... but that we can't make that judgment. It was fun.

In other news I am confused about many things. Nothing new there.

I am mostably enjoying myself.

I watched the 2003 Yellowstone documentary today. A fine viewing... very authentic. I really like how I look in this fine film, not to be vain. I would like to look like that again some day. No wonder I was a narcissist. Apparently I am only 16.5 pounds away now. Not really that much considering at the beginning of this school year I was about 29 pounds away. That makes me about half way there now. This is my little bragging paragraph.

I miss you now my dear Shannon, especially after watching our fine documentary.

There isn't much I wouldn't do to be able to understand people.

I am starting to believe again that people like me, and it is an odd sensation. It feels partially like a great responsibility I am not sure I can be responsible enough about. In a way it is much easier to believe that nothing you do effects anybody, and everybody hates you. I just don't like disappointing people.

ardor, apologies, & schmaltz

It was a nice dinner for those interested. A very romantic night, the equivalent to which I have only had about three times in my life. A candlelight dinner, some wine, italian food, a cat, and part of a humorous kung fu movie... in addition to the akward attempts at "getting to know" the other person. It played out strikingly different than my first date with Evan. I didnt come out of my shell really. I practically refused to lead conversation. I resent anyone, no matter how sweet, who attempts to make me "open up", I'll "open up" in my own damn time. And, trust only goes so far for anyone. I am allowed my secrets. At least for a while...

I suppose this is the part of the post where I tell you dear readers for about the billionth blog entry that I feel guilty and crazy and worthless and like a horrible person. Really though, I feel hopeful. If some guys like me then maybe I have a chance of finding "the right guy" some day or at the very least the right kind of guy. Also, I could tell you how I have ruined everything as always. I dont really feel that though.

It is funny how every time I start to like myself again I realize how many people have screwed me over, and I have just allowed it. I all of the sudden feel the need to fight back, to stop the "abuse" as it were. I suddenly feel wronged, like people should have been treating me so much better all the while. The truth is, however, that people are often human and humans generally will treat each other as well or as poorly as those other humans are behaving like they are worthy of. A man in a fancy suit carrying a nice briefcase will be treated with more respect than the man in his jeans hunched over at the back of the room. I am remembering how I used to make friends, what used to draw people to me, my own little bit of charisma. If I am truly happy and confident other people seem to really enjoy being allowed into "my world" as it were. I lost that for a while... I would have the occasional on day but most of my days were offs. I had it friday night. I had it again. It felt good to feel good.

That being said, some people were hurt along the way. I have hurt many people along the way. I feel sort of like I am in recovery though, and my future health and stability is much more important than hurting my druggie friends' feelings. I guess I feel a little bit of guilt for that. I am after all, above all, loyal. But I also feel like these things that I am doing are for the best in the end. I might go through a slight phase where I care very little about what other people think, as I am mainly focused on finding out what I think and making myself happy. But once I find out those things, and once I can as in my former youth maintain my own happiness, I will make people so much happier and more people happy than now, hopefully. So mainly what I feel is hope that the pain I am causing people will be made up for later on, and just hope in general.

I feel different after these past few days, in the way that one must always feel different after something happens to them that they were sure could never happen to them. I feel good, about as delightfully guilty as after eating a bunch of chocolate, and a little worried that some people may not understand.

strange happenings

Yes, my friends, you may have guessed there are strange happenings afoot. And by strange I mean "Hope is in new territory and completely confused."

First fact: guys are not sposed to like Hope... not sposed to be attracted to her... not sposed to hit on her

Second fact: In such instances as guys do like Hope... are attracted to her... and hit on her... Hope doesnt know what the shitfuck she is doing.

I went to hang out with my fine friends and play some pool upon a Friday night and I brought home a boy. A rather attractive specimen in fact. My confusion is great and I am not sure how to proceed from here. I am sposed to dine with said gentleman tonight, and that means I am even more shitfucked. Question??? Why? Why is this first fact which I have accepted as undeniable truth for so long, with the one fluke of Evan, suddenly crumbling in front of me? How many pseudo-boyfriends can one girl have... and at what point does she not have any but simply serve as a slut? Barge. I spose there could be worse things, but still, my life has reached my confusion limit. And why am I still so into Evan despite everything, despite the fact that he can be such a jerk when he is stressed out, and let's face it life is full of stress?

Oh well... I guess I am meeting new people Eddius... I don't think this is exactly the way you had in mind.

Humiliation

( I don't know if I can do this post. It may be too real. It delves far deeper into human psychology and philosophy than I have any knowledge about. It implies connections that may just be coincidences. It conjectures without really having any decision. It contains embarassing secrets and truths that are no longer deniable. It scares me. And, I do not even know where it should start. As a piece of writing I cannot figure out how to present it other than stream of consciousness. The points I make, I warn you are going to be disjointed and inconclusive. If nothing else you will mayhaps know much more about me than you did before. Warning! This post might be a little explicit etc. or boring. Enjoy.)

I don't remember anything from the first four years of my life. This is not so surprising as the vivid detail I remember many things in thereafter is. They tell me that as young as three I had a doll which I loved very much and I was always bashing its head on walls and pulling off its arms. I was always doing this while telling it "You are a bad girl." Where did I get such ideas? I certainly don't remember and my parents act as bemused as I do. We didnt watch television when I was young, and were pretty isolated from the outside world as well. So I really wonder... maybe it was just a part of me always, a savage and primal need to humiliate and hurt simultaneous with the need I always remember having to be punished.

Some of you may know of how I slapped my sister in our backyard at some very young age for no reason other than I wanted to. It is possible, knowing my parents, that I had already become under the impression at such a young age that hurting somebody wasnt always connected so much with the fact that they had done something wrong, but with the fact that you were annoyed by them. Likewise, even at such a young age I already had a strong moral compass and the instilled guilt was present when I did slap her.

I remember my brother's birth, and I remember liking him alot. But, I am told that I would often hurt him as well. I don't remember that.

I remember a guest at our house and how me and my sister pretended to be the cops and tie him down and "torture" him involving ketchup and mustard and yes the removal of his fine genitals,at some very young age. The cops, it seems, were also these figures we assumed were there to watch and punish.

How did my sister and I end up with all of these crazy images I wonder, especially if my parents were so innocent in all of this as they would have us believe. Were we abused by our babysitter (the only contact with any outside world we had)? Was my mom more abusive than she remembers being when she was drunk? Or were we just observing how my parents treated each other? Maybe it was just some pschological phenomenon already manifesting itself, the need to express the pain and guilt ever present in the Davidson household. I don't remember, but perhaps my sister does.

From there I remember more, but not the ages I was. For example, I remember acting out the princess captured by the pirate in my bunk bed which served as a ship long before the pain had any sexual connotation. It was captain hook of course and he wounded me repeatedly with his hook which I think consisted of mayhaps a hanger? some sharp object at any rate.

I remember the first time I looked down and realized that I had a body. I remember the little yellow plastic frog I used to torture myself with as I bathed every night. I would always whisper to myself when I was imagining things when I was a kid, but I would never be myself. It was always a man. He had a lot of girls that he had kidnapped, including me. Maybe this sprung from my fear of being kidnapped, duly instilled in me from a young age. I didnt really have a clear picture of this man, other than stubble on his chin and a jean or leather jacket, but I can hear his voice in my mind if I try to even now. He would tie us up, or torture us with sharp objects naked in front of all the other girls and a group of other men, humiliating us.

I learned about suicide, as many of you know, when my father threatened to kill himself with a knife whilst in a fight with my mom. I learned about murder, specifically by cutting off the guys penis, from the radio. I learned about abuse when my mother told me my friend had been abused. His name was Phillip. I am told that we beat each other up constantly. I remember I accidentally tore one of his buttons off his shirt once. I remember I had a dream about him where he was naked and running about and he had welts on his back from being beaten. I remember when I knew it was going to be the last time I saw him I gave him my favorite Feifel (sp?) stuffed animal.

There was a little aframe in our backyard. I would go there to torture myself with sticks. I would go to my room to torture myself with styrofoam building blocks. My mother caught me and told me to never do that again.

So I continued to do it, but I felt more guilty. I would try not to, but I would end up doing it anyways, and I had no idea why. It would become sexual years later. Maybe why I associate sex with something I try not to do, but I end up doing anyways, and it is "out of my control." Or at least I really want it to be.

I remember when my uncle threatened to beat me with a belt, when my babysitter threatened the same thing, when my Dad beat me with a flyswatter, and all I could think was how the physical pain would feel so much better than the constant guilt and humiliation I was being punished with.

I remember that I started trying to make all of my fights physical fights. I wasn't always a pacifist. I didnt care if I hurt my Dad, I just wanted him to stop yelling. I didnt care if I got hurt, it hurt less than the words he yelled at me. I remember how my parents teamed up and pinned me to the ground and my mom hit me in the eye and they spanked me and my spirit was broken for a while.

And always my parents were embarassing me in order to control me. Or making me feel guilty. My bed wetting was a constant source of embarassment and only my attempt at getting attention they would tell me. My anger was only my attempt to get attention because I was selfish. One time I was angry and crying alone in my room, and my Dad came in with the video camera and started asking me questions. Then the next sunday at my Grandma's house we watched the video and everybody laughed, except me.

And then of course the constant put downage as a tool for bonding within my mother's side of the family. The lines that you cant cross and the lines that you can are so clear to me and so unclear to my current friends. How could they understand that I was taught that abuse is a way of bonding. It is a way of getting it all out in the open and hurting each other because I am convinced by now that my family is all so insecure we would rather have somebody saying mean things to us than listening to the even more critical voices in our heads. How could they understand that it is not supposed to step outside of the realm of being a game...that nothing seriously insulting or painful is sposed to be said... it is more about showing the other person that you do have that power to hurt them if you so chose. How could anybody understand such a sick fucked up game when we who play it do not even understand it. It would be like trying to understand basketball if you had never played it. Why do people run up and down the court trying to put a ball into a hoop and totally exhausting themselves? If you are one of those people who gets no rush or high feeling or primal strength from doing such an activity, then you will prolly never understand why people do it. And as a stranger to the game, having no interest in it, it is unlikely that you will understand the rules and the boundaries... the arbitrariness of the three point lines or how steps are considered travelling but pivoting isnt. Suffice it to say that those of us who play this game feel fulfilled while doing it, we get to lash out at others, we get to be punished both for being so useless and for lashing out, and if the game is played right "nobody gets hurt". Maybe a few sprained ankles, maybe a few sore muscles, maybe at the end of the game we will be a little thirsty, but nobody will be lying on the ground unconscious. In our game there are fouls, there are lines you dont cross, and any outsider trying to join the game doesnt understand this. This need to hurt others, but this need to not do it too much, because then we would feel guilty, and the only reason we want to hurt others at all is so that they will hurt us. We are nothing if not victims. We want to be victims. We want to say we have no choice but to play the game. And honestly I know no other way of bonding with people.

So how much of it is my personality defects and how much of it is my past environment? And to what extent can I change it, and to what extent will it never change? Only time will tell. Years and years and memories and memories and psychological wounds that hurt just as much or more today (having become infected) as when they were inflicted, could be related in this post. But perhaps I will save it for my future best selling novel.

Indeed

I grow tired of always putting myself out there. Of making the effort to be what everybody is looking for me to be. Of always doing the "right" thing or the "smart" thing, because I have been given "morals" and I am "intelligent". What has a lifetime of careful decision making given me, besides regret and guilt? I have overanalyzed myself out of any happiness there is to be attained in such and such a life in such and such a world. My every decision, my every sentence, has become something I must defend upon my honor. I grow weary of thinking of thinking from every angle from trying to predict who will be upset and who will be happy from what decision of mine. I wonder why I even want people to like me, or care about me, or trust me, or anything for that matter besides entertain me or interest me. I wonder why I must always be so careful, never screw up, because of my IQ and my conscience. Ignorance is bliss, and I could chose ignorance. But instead I continue to acknowledge my logic and my morality. I continue to strive towards self actualization as I perceive it. I intend to be perfect some day... or die still trying... still fighting passionately up to my last breath. But, I mess up. I mess up because even though I know some things or wrong, or I know somethings might not be wise, I am human... and I have my weaknesses. I have my many weaknesses and temptations. Sometimes the decision I come to with my logic doesnt seem to make sense to my self. Sometimes what I have decided is wrong, doesnt feel wrong in the moment. And, yes, this is something I can change, but I make no promises about it changing over night. I make no promises at all any more, every promise is a "pie crust promise" "easily made easily broken". I can tell you I can try, but I do not believe in trying. "Do or do not, there is no try." If I am ready to change it then I change it completely. If not, chances are, no amount of trying is going to get me anywhere. All peoples' well meant concern only brings me guilt. I have already come to the same conclusions they have, in fact I have predicted their reactions and the guilt I would feel as a result of those reactions. I have played through my mind what "trying" would entail but in the moment it would be like me "trying" to dance in public. I tell my body to move and it does not respond. I am not as intelligent as you take me to be, and I am a sinner. But, all of these, I know are just excuses, but it doesnt stop me from making them. The reason is that I have made these decisions; I have made them based off of my beliefs not my thoughts. And the only reason I excuse them or feel guilty for them is because of how others might react. I must fight my own battles now. I am digging my grave, and eventually I will lie in it. And when I do, I will be proud of it, because it was my choice, not yours not theirs not my parents not the voice my parents instilled into my thoughts, but mine. And any consequences resulting from such actions I am fully prepared to take without any sympathy or comfort from any one of you. I am changing; I have changed. I need to take care of myself now. I think in my masochistic way I am sabotaging my own life constantly, but it is only through taking the pain full on myself instead of sharing it with others that I will realize the full power of that pain and learn to avoid it. My mother always said I should learn from her so that I wouldnt have to learn "the hard way". But perhaps "the hard way" is the only way this stubborn soul of mine can learn.

cover girl

So I spent the larger part of my day watching a bunch of girls compete to be the top cover girl model or some such. I realize that more and more I am watching these type of shows. I think, aside from it being pathetic, it is indeed to my advantage. In this year as I shape who I am, I long to know that it is possible to transform into something. Similarly for instance I watch "What Not to Wear". I have realized finally that while it is not my top priority to look good, that it should be important. I should be able to present myself, and to take pride in what I present. I should be able to look at beautiful women and see my equals. It is slowly happening. I am slowly starting to look into the mirror and react with the same admiration as I would for any other person. It is not about being vain, it is about seeing myself as something worthwhile.

Also, the weather today was gorgeous and I took full advantage of this by taking a long steady walk.

I want to stop trying to remove my flaws, and instead concentrate on improving my skills. I think the flaws will become faded and then disappear if all my concentration is being put into improvement. As I once said, everyone has an image, and I want to make that image as true to myself as possible but you dont go around flaunting your flaws. I want to take the good parts and show those off a little. I want to just ignore the flaws for a while, a thing which I have never done. If done wrong I think ignoring flaws could spiral into a bad thing, but if I am careful I think this route will be better over all. Maybe I am not the most prepared for the real world, maybe I dont see myself as the most social bug under the rug, maybe I lack this so called "charisma" but I can act prepared, social, and charismatic. And after all that is what all actions are, acting. And I notice the more I act in a certain way the more I feel that certain way, and the more I feel that certain way the more I am that certain way. It's just a thought, but I think it might work out.

Control. A thing I love above all else. A thing I am too quick this year to pretend I have none of just because I do not have as much as I would like. "Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change, the courage to change the things i can, and the wisdom to tell the difference." That basically sums it up.

I would like to thank, once again, all yall who helped me through the first part of this year. I pray, and hope, that I will never need so much help again.

necesito

I am, indeed, a needy person. Mayhaps less so than ever now, but the truth remains. Many happenings have of course occurred on this, my first, week back at cornell. For instance I tried to pretend like I wasn't back together with Evan in any form. That bold truth, once written down, just becomes another item on the long list of reasons I am doomed. It seems that this fine upstanding chap missed me alot/ didnt realize he had broke up with me the second time/ wants to start over. My wondering is if there is any starting over to be had. I have never tried it before, and it indeed sounds like an adventure... much like stepping out onto a stream, that looks half unfrozen but holds you up anyways for a little while, and pretending that you have never seen that stream break and melt beneath your feet before. Quite.

In other news, I have been eating quite healthily, at least to the best of my knowledgely knowledge. Also, the nurses say I have lost six pounds since october. Only 23 pounds to lose in order to return the weight I was maintaining when I entered this fine establishment. From there, if I lose a little bit more weight, I will be one sexy fox. All is possible when I decide so, it just takes a while. They say one pound a week is healthy so that means I should lose all the weight I wish to lose within the year if all goes as planned. Right.

I am also working on the acquirement of a job and looking into writer's workshops for grad school.

I still havent found out anything about car reimbursement, and that is starting to nag me annoyingly, especially with the plentiful calls I am receiving from my mother telling me to do something about it. I dont know, for instance, how I am sposed to get Evan's ornaments from the car before they junk it, when I do not actually have any cars to drive there. Bah... I ignore it because everything is going so well but everything is also already stressful.

Oddly enough, the most pressing of concerns to me right now is the departure, of the finest roommate there could be, from Cornell's treacherous shores. It seems that now the college is conspiring against me and has taken my dear roomie away. She is kicked out. She is leaving today. She is also engaged! David is an awesome guy and I wish them the best of luck, however I now know what it feels like to have somebody close to you get engaged and it isnt entirely welcome. I am above all human, and humans are above all selfish. I miss her already, and greatly. I am worried about her. I hope she will be happy.

I will be mighty lonely mayhaps without a roomie. On the other hand it might be nice. Jess was pretty busy anyways, and I havent actually been spending much time in said room myself. Things prolly wont be much different, unless they decide to assign me another roomie. Any roomie after Jess would seem like a crappy roomie, methinks. Except for maybe you Shannon, I always liked to think we would be fine roomies. Despite what they tell me about best friends not working out as roomies.

Everybody has been wonderful to me this week, and overall I have been having a kick ass time. My spanish class is going well. I feel better physically than I have in forever. Evan is being a sweetheart, as is Freddy for the most part. I got to have speaks with Eddius, and I even got to read "A Grief Observed" by that illustrious philosopher C.S. Lewis. (Hey Freddy-- so there's this guy... and his name is C.S. Lewis.)I will prolly read either "Mere Christianity" or "Screwtape Letters" next. However, Ben also loaned me some book so I might want to get on reading that. I even wrote a poem this week. All in all it was a satisfactory and successful week. I wish to have speaks with you soon, Shannon, if it will be possible.

rootbeer floats

Today, I have the great pleasure of writing to you in a positively estatic state of mind. Not only am I genuinely happy today, but there also seems to be no reason I cannot remain so for a longly while (barring any more major catastrophes). I guess this is what comes from being out from under the giant yoke of living with my mother.

Also, I got to enjoy ibcs with my fine brother the night before I left Omaha's fair shores. Then I got to go to the fine zoo of omahaness with Jess and David before I left. This morning I slept in, and I had very many boy crazy dreamings. I am now listening to a quite humurous comedian.

Yes, I am at the high point of the roller coaster... no I am flying off of the roller coaster. Maybe I have a parachute this time.

I feel so young, instead of old.

I feel more independent than I have in forever. And yet I think people are awesome.

I must be high. Maybe all that spinach I ate yesterday.

I am also eating an excellent meatloaf.

Damn, I am happy. I am so excited to go back to cornell.

Announcement: Evan successfully made fudge!

I love you guys.

some statements are true

I had the opportunity yesterday, and took it, to visit our dear old friend Mr.Vanicek. He seemed to like me alot more than usual. He seems to think there is a big difference between 19 & 20. He didnt even know i had been engaged, and thought that I hated boys or something, maybe because I always told him that they have cooties. So that was a fun story to tell. He seemed to think it was a good experience, and was quite glad that we had come to our senses in time. He also made a biggish deal about my 21st birthday coming up; he finished the conversation by saying "Youre the best", a statement I am sure I have never heard him say before. And in the words of the immortal Mr. Vanicek "Some statements are true, and some statements are false." I leave it up to you dear reader to determine the veracity of this particular statement, but for once the truth value of the statement didnt really concern me. It was just good to hear him say something other than "You know what I like about you?... Nothing."

In other news, Jess and David are picking me up this afternoon. I am not sure why I grow so attached to places, but I have already become reattached to this place and I am kind of sad to go. I feel like I failed everyone this break. My mother, my brother, my sister, Eddius, Shannon, Francis, and even Patrick. I will assume this is my insecurity, but I fear that it is more than that. My brain just doesnt seem to function on as high of a level as it used to. I get confused sometimes for no apparent reason, and the confusion usually leads to me being grumpy. The whole not caring about things I used to care about factors into this too, I am very self involved. I will very rarely feel strong emotion any more about somebody else and what they are saying, and when I start to it also makes me grumpy. The confusion may in part be due to me not caring enough to keep up with what is being said. So, in conclusion, I am often grumpy. I feel myself, see myself, pushing everybody away and I have to fight myself in order to not to. I cry myself to sleep most nights. Last night the room was definitely spinning at one point, and then I had one of those things where I was not in my body, and then I got this idea of jumping out in front of a car and being killed, I imagined it in detail up until I arrived at the hospital and then I was back. So yeah, I am definitely stable.

I am not going to be a hermit this next month, but I do want to spend a considerable amount of time alone, especially reading these C.S.Lewis books and writing. We shall see how that works out.

shape shifters

So here I am, and now I am used to it here. I always fight so hard not to become used to it, but it always happens anyways. I guess my survival and adaptation skills must be keen.

I have enjoyed this break. I enjoyed talking in the car, and frozen streams, and cattail wars, and late night jiggin' by the lake, and champagnes, and yes even cornfields. I enjoyed feeling like I belonged, when I did feel that way, and I enjoyed even the bittersweet remembering that I never do belong anywhere. I realized that I am a plan maker... that I make interesting things happen. That it isnt true that I like routine, as I once thought. I like random happenings with unpredictable people who are almost predictably there for me. I love being the leader, but behind the scenes. It wasnt so much that I got a chance to do that this break, but that I remembered how I used to do it. I remembered something that I was good at socially, there are so few things. I dont know why I dont naturally think of questions whilst a person is talking, or even things to say, I am a very inquisitive person by nature. I think mayhaps I am trying to store every word the person says into my memory and I am connecting it to past memory. The same in class as I am learning new things. I come up with questions far later and I usually like to make my own guess as to what the answer might be before asking. I guess I dont question what I take the person to be saying as facts or try to find out more facts necessarily, instead I try to appreciate what those facts might mean. At any rate, I am an akward little bug socially.

This break has also presented me with the chance to slow down and grieve, as well as to get used to the idea of a future without Omaha. I love this place. I always have. But the people who made this place what I loved are dispersing, and the people who I wish to avoid at all costs are still here and have no intentions of ever leaving. I think the most pressing reason to get out of here is this secret tug at my heart telling me to stay, saying to give my family another chance. But, I must away or I will always stay. Now is the time. All of my peers seem to beginning to feel it. The need to stay away from the nest for a little while whilst we train for flight. Will I ever fly really? Or will she always weigh me down? Her voice is in my head; it is a part of my voice. I owe her everything, and yet I feel no gratitude towards her. It is a strange part of life indeed. Not that life isnt always a transition with no actual introduction or conclusion, but it seems to me more and more that this is a time in which I can cling to nothing. My faith comes and goes as does my confidence. I love my friends and then I hate them. I am excited for the future so much that I cannot wait but then I cower in the corner and attempt to push it away.

I finished reading "The Phantom of the Opera" last night. It was especially interesting to me since Raoul was the same age as I am. His love story ended well... as the book would lead you to believe... I certainly hope so. I hope that there are some "happily ever afters" left in the "real" world. I feel in my heart that there must be, no matter how rare they have become. Maybe I cant have one, but it would be enough hope for me if I knew that there was somebody who could. That has always been my problem. I see love as a force, an external thing as well as an internal thing. I invite it in and I care for it and I make it grow. It isnt that I am in love with love, but it is that I have faith in love rather than people. And I "know" that if somebody experienced love as I do, they would never be able to stop loving because the roots would be too deep. But, I guess it doesnt matter. I didnt see something coming. All the times I cried thinking Evan might stop loving me, that our love might end, I never expected him to leave me and still love me. I hadnt done anythign unforgivable, he promised that I never would. He hadnt stopped loving me, he promised he never would. I suppose one could argue that he hasnt even left me in many senses of the word. What promise did he break then? That we would always be together? That was no more or less true a year ago than it is now. Who knows forever? I dont think Evan even believes in it like I do, or at least he has always reminded me that he can make no promises for after death. So I am left knowing very little to do differently "next time". You can never know if a person will stay, will keep their promises, even they can rarely know, it is a matter of faith. Do I have that kind of faith? I always have without meaning to, just as in God. I believe in people, a few of them, I believe in love, I believe in God... even when I dont want to. I dont know where I am going with this, except to say that I have grieved more deeply and more independently in these past few weeks, than in the past few months. Sometimes I think it cannot be good for my health for my heart to hurt so much. Most of the time it hurts too much to cry. I usually only cry out of self-pity, to be honest.

Things dont make much sense. That is the only conclusion I keep coming back to.

I look forward to returning to Cornell, even though honestly I dont really think it exists, it was all a dream. Just as I cannot believe I was ever engaged, that I might have been married as well as graduating in a year or so. I dont really believe that Evan ever loved me, I had only just begun to believe when he dumped me. It is alot easier for me to believe in love existing within myself than within someone else. I see no reason anyone should ever seek out my presence, or feel affection towards me, or in any other way have any kind of positive reaction to my existence. I must find somebody like myself, as Shannon is, only in male form. I begin to doubt though. I begin to see my future as bleak. I will end up married and divorced or never married at all. My job will barely get me by. My kids, if kids there are, will hate me. I probably will end up in a mental hospital for some period of time and then on the street. I have come so close to breaking so many times. I am not strong, just stubborn. I am not sane, just determined not to be insane.

That is all. I am sorry. I am sorry for all of the apologies this year. I am sorry that you feel the need, maybe even the obligation, to remain my friend past the point where you enjoy any benefits from it. I am sorry that you feel sorry for me and therefore keep me around, maybe even think you love me. I am sorry that I can't believe that you do despite everything. I do love you though. I do.

Kryptonite

Telekinetics You scored 50% subtlety and 70% control!

Your super power is telekinetics! Basically, you can move stuff with your mind. So slam those bad guys into a wall, or drop a piano on their heads--all without lifting a finger! Comes in handy in real life, too--now you don't have to get up to get a beer during commercials! This power isn't super-flashy, but it'll still impress your friends. And you can rest easy knowing that you can take control of any situation.

My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 66% on subtlety You scored higher than 73% on control

Link: The Superhero Power Test written by Antimuffin42 on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the 32-Type Dating Test