May 2008 - Posts

  • Why am I so out of it?? Part two: I opt for excitement cautiously


    When I said goodbye to this mutual victim from college- I cried. That doesn’t happen to me often and I certainly wasn’t expecting it. I’m usually so ambivalent when it comes to goodbyes. For me, change doesn’t register until it has fully manifested itself, slapped me in the face and shook me from my disbelieving stupor.


    But if it was anybody who deserved my tears it was him. [G-d knows my other close friend from college provoked them often enough]. This was the guy who sat there with me and listened; Who never turned me away when I asked for his compassion; Who went out of his way to make sure I was alright. And you have no idea how fucked up our relationship got, how hormones and broken hearts complicated our bond, how radically different upbringings made our understandings clash, and how gender roles muddied our perspective. But he never gave up on “us”. He always made it clear that he valued me as a person, as a friend, and every other facet paled in comparison. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so loved or that I was completely ready to embrace and trust that kind of sincerity, especially from boy. But he was patient with me. He always listened and tried to ride with me on my trains of thought. Our conversations were deep and complex and he helped me to shed light on the errors in my thinking. Perhaps I did the same for him (although I don’t think he would ever admit to any). I tried to be there for him when he needed me and he expressed gratitude more than any friend I’ve ever had. But I can’t help but feel he’s given so much more to me than I have to him, even though with deep appreciation he tries to steer me from that conclusion.


    He’s amazing. A seemingly typical cynical macho college guy with a heart capable of the purest care I have ever known.



    That being said, I do often right off his advice as over-moralistic and unnecessarily safe. It’s not so much him as it is cognitive dissonance: At the end of the day I do what I want and my brain makes sure that I have at least a semi-sensible justification.   


    So I did see the boy from the bohemian love triangle. He called one night drunk and nearby and I was eager to share with him the recent online conversation with MVT. We sat on campus and smoked cigarettes- I think we were both afraid of the occurring interaction.  


    We got along so well- mostly. Until a week or so before I decided to be drunk and self centered and tell him exactly who I thought he was. I channeled my mentality when I was compulsively using and I described the criminal that I was, only attaching his name to my former qualities.  


    He knew; he called me on my bullshit the same way I called him on his. We knew. We know people and after countless experiences of watching ourselves and others in the midst of psychoanalysis- I think we realize that human motivation if often quite predictable. So he saw right through me but he didn’t quite understand why I chose to patronize him that night or where my anger came from. 


    Neither did I. 


    Yes I was angry at my former self, yes I was angry at the people who never tried to call me on my bullshit, yes I did wish to spare the other girl hurt that came from naively lending him trust he did not deserve. But what I later discovered after much self-reflection was that on a superficial level (which is actually deeper when it comes to interacting with bohemians as they’re used to discussing sobering truths but not so much the simple ones) I just wanted to interact with him. I wanted to spar, I wanted to play, I wanted to tease and to prove myself all without having to compromise my friendship with the other girl from the triangle. In fact, I may have managed to reinforce our friendship with my tactless condescending exposé.  


    Sounds manipulative, doesn’t it? It is. It’s disgustingly manipulative but know that I did believe my words. Know I did believe he didn’t value her best interest as much as he should have because of his adrenaline addict priorities. Know I did think that he was blatantly lying to her by making false promises and letting her believe every word. 


    It’s just one night I felt the drunken impulse to call him out in front of her, realizing only later how much it worked in my favor. And I think I felt confident that mine and his relationship could take the heat as it was based almost entirely on discussing ugly truths.  


    But I’m done with the honesty game- because that’s really all it is when it’s uncalled for. I think the three of us, to some extent, have adopted this philosophy not to say anything about a person that we wouldn’t say to a person. And I think sometimes we get caught up in the power struggle of proving our authenticity. He exposed her opinions of me both in and out of her presence. She exposed him. I exposed her. I exposed him. I knew she exposed me privately to him. And so I assumed he exposed me to her.  


    I don’t know why it was jarring to think that I couldn’t trust him with secrecy when I knew she couldn’t. Ok, that’s a lie I do. I wanted to believe our alliance was stronger but I also knew it was absurd and hypocritical to count on it. 


    Part of my anger at him was a reaction to that realization.   


    But he’s a good guy. Today I trust that his compassion for me is genuine and I think he knows I truly care about him: Whatever that means.  


    I enjoyed the time I spent with him so much and the history he chose to share with me. I enjoyed our platonic experience on drugs, intensely watching one man’s theory of religion. I enjoyed the next day half wittedly reminiscing about Thunder Cats and VR Troopers while I wore his only mildly roomy clothes. I enjoyed saying hello and goodbye to my closest friends and then leaning on his shoulder for support. I enjoyed wandering with him to Chipotle speaking and walking like crack heads (I wonder if he remembers that my eyebrows were unusually dark?). 


     I enjoyed the drama caused when the other girl jealously caught us hanging out and I technically had nothing to feel guilty about. I enjoyed it when she asked us what we’ve been up to. And he replied “O you know just waiting.” To which I chimed in with my best soprano “Waiting on the world to change.” And all three of us continued singing. 


     And most of all I enjoyed waiting for four hours with him, while she was in a meeting, in “our” abandoned soon-to-be demolished dormitory as we babysat the last of our belongings and reminded each other of the trippy events taking place: Seniors returning to vandalize their transitory freshmen home.   


    And when she came back and they interacted- I respectfully stepped aside. I realized I didn’t know him at all, at least not with the intimacy that she did. And I let myself finally confront the fact that maybe I was wrong. That maybe her feelings were of some consequence to him and that it would hurt to hurt her. They’re almost perfect strangers to me and their hearts aren’t familiar enough to mend. My mistrust of their intentions is a reflection of my skepticism and is not the absolute truth about their character; Although, I will not discount the validity of my observations and reflections. 


    The bottom line is you can understand basic psychology and have a good eye for unconscious motivation. You can project onto others every observed detail of your own nature and learn a tremendous about human nature in general. But to understand how a person works; the organic desires that haunt them and how they go about fulfillment is only a fraction of their humanity.  A person is yes, the desires they act on, but also the ones they’re to afraid of. A person is where they’ve been both a year ago and a decade ago. A person is their favorite childhood TV show and their current best friends. A person is their anger, their sadness, their shame, their hopes, their fears… the way they hug, the way they choose to wear their hair.  


    A person is what you see in them but more so, what they see in themselves.  Because we can never wholly see what another person sees; we are after all, solitary prisoners in our own minds. 


    Ironically this revelation occurred to me while under the influence which brings us back full circle, to the original topic for discussion: The hard hitting truth about drugs.  
    • To be continued…
  • Why am I so out of it?? Part one: When I can’t decide how to pass the time…

    Help me understand as I attempt to force the glimpses of revelation confined to note form into one coherent blog. I’m not my usual self right now and my thoughts cannot form without registering this trying unfamiliar fog. I could be sick, but with what is a question I’m not ready to asses. Instead I assume it’s a combination of exhaustion and withdrawal from leaving behind [however temporarily] my comfy college life and entering this pseudo home in the middle of fucking nowhere, California. 

    I’m light headed, I’m tired, and I’m hungry. It’s frustrating because it’s unlike me and this alien lethargy weighs heavy on the motivated mentality I’m trying desperately to gather. There is so much I want to get done. And where is the usual vigor that permits my seemingly speed induced productivity?

    It’s not just psychological. This is some sort of physical consequence resulting from the events of these past few weeks which I can only begin to describe by prefacing with analogous artful imprecision.

    “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way-in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.” – Charles Dickens

    This chapter in my life has been most enlightening and like this opening from ­A Tale of Two Cities (Which I have yet to read by the way), I have come to appreciate its graceful chiaroscuros. Ambiguity is what makes life poetic. Living in uncertainty- wanting to be good but craving to be bad- loving unsure of how far down your body that love extends- getting a selfish thrill at someone else’s expense knowing it will hurt but refusing to allow them undue empathy- Letting yourself have feelings for someone because they’re cute or you get along and you’d like to entertain the idea of not being alone- Knowing it’s nothing less selfish than that and accepting that you have control over what you choose to value- experiencing the power in non-attachment and learning that it’s just another repressive world-view one can get attached to- and finally realizing that the ability to relate is only half the battle; that a relationship is worth nothing unless you sanction the possibility of relating to each other. Anything else is just some fucked up form of sadomasochism to which I have often childishly fallen victim out of fear of many things, among them; dullness in life. But there is nothing dull about balancing vulnerability and composure and getting close to someone as they struggle to do the same.

    My life will always be melodramatic. I unconsciously/subconsciously/consciously make sure to keep it [or perhaps see it] that way. The world I’ve created within the light and walls of my perceptions is one I will spend my entire life depicting and insisting that what may seem ordinary is in fact a work of art. I’m like the not-so-anonymous, less conniving Gossip girl (speaking of melodrama- what a fantastically awful show) who insists her observations are news worthy only because they threaten to expose you. But I do not wish to be cruel- I only enjoy making sense of my conscience and emotions by deciding what values are self created, which are imposed and in turn which deserve my time and energy.  Hugh Hefner said something like “You only get one time around in this life and if you don’t make the most of it, you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

    For me, part of making the most out of life has come to include the consistently mentioned exploration of individuality but my maturing ideals now include a socially constructed method of success. I desire to be a hard-working student, yes out of the love of learning and the thrill of intellectual growth but I’d be lying if I said the ego boost and opportunities that come with good grades are not a motivating factor. This goal has risen up the value scale to at least priority two if not higher but a conflicting priority that will always rank somewhere near the top is; experience. It has always been in my nature to take advantage of every moments potential for adrenaline. I suppose that’s what still draws me to drugs.

    Because of society’s constant reminder of how disgraceful and illegal drugs are, drugs will always, if nothing else, pack the adrenaline punch of rebellion. [Breaken’ the law, Breaken’ the law…] I say “if nothing else” because quite frankly, sometimes drugs really suck. Sometimes they induce obsessive self deprecating thoughts, sometimes they are sickening, sometimes the symptoms of a high are out of sync which leads to paranoia as you ponder what chemicals might be added, sometimes the company at the time is unfamiliar and the situation becomes unforgivably awkward, and sometimes you realize that drugs do not alleviate boredom as they are not an activity and the only thing that has really altered your situation is an anxious refusal to sit and accept your lackluster circumstance.      

    However, because drugs carry such a disgraced stigma, because they are believed to be so substantial in their negative side-effects; they will always be the dare devils poison. If only they weren’t so anti-glorified and people would tune down the over drama and instead nonchalantly advocate the hard hitting truth about drugs; they’re kinda fucking stupid.

    I would never deny that in most cases they are counterproductive and a waste of precious time but I will be so bold as to ask what if a person has the time to waste?  What if someone, hypothetically speaking of course, has just finished there last final and is chilling on an empty college campus for a week, belongings all packed and sent home, waiting anxiously to see a favorite band’s concert. What if this person is stuck in love triangle of personal politics, secret alliances, power struggles, deep trust, mistrust, obsession, deception, disorder, disorders, empathy, attraction, philosophy, distraction, revelation, common ground, addictions, prescriptions, loneliness, competition and sexual tension? Is anyone else intrigued by the potential for adrenaline from this hypothetical melodramatic experience?

    [It was a dark and stormy night…]

    She and I were both similar kinds of crazy; he and I were both analytical observers of our post rehabilitated lives. She was his ex-girlfriend and the only one willing to save him from utter abandonment. He promised to conform to the hazy boundaries of loyalty she outlined, violating what he technically could but perhaps shouldn’t. It all depends on whether your moral scale weighs in favor of boy or girl, prodigy turned prodigal or the adviser turned adversary, self-serving or self-righteous?

     She believed in G-d, he believed in drugs, and I guess I believed in some of both. The story will be told with justice to its many facets one day but for now it’s important to know she was gone for that week. I was lonely and desperate for adventure but still apprehensive to borrow his company.

    Below is a conversation with a mutual friend of hers and mine who once ironically played a role in our tensions as well.

    The Hypothetical me: I want to see him but I’m scared to reduce myself to majoring in drug addiction  Mutual victim of tension: Haha well said  THM: I’m only one step ahead with a major in art- I can’t afford to stoop any lower  MVT: True- very true THM: But I relate to him- I wish I could help him  MVT: That’s not ur responsibility Clear Chat HistoryCouldn't retrieve chat history

    THM: i know... i just wish i could. She [being the third side of the triangle) is so naive... what is she doing??

     MVT: She’s being stupid THM: But he's not being cruel, he's just being pathetic, stepping on the people he cares about because MVT: very very stupid THM: she doesn't get ithe'll say anything as long as it gets him his drugs MVT: exactly THM: and he wants his drugs to forget...I sympathize with him because I see myself in himI sympathize with her because I see my friends and family in her
    MVT: u should talk to her? THM: I tried but she doesn't get it, she thinks it's something she can confront him about and it will go away... but it's who he is choosing to be right now
    MVT: ugh THM: it doesn't matterwe’ll all go our separate ways and it will all work itself out
    MVT: trueUntil then don’t involve yourself with him THM: yeah... i remember how terribly lonely it was then though... living from fix to fix... MVT: it must be terrible
    THM: I just wanted to be held... you know?? But instead I was yelled at, or lectured, or encouraged, or fucked up, or fucking...
    MVT: I’m sorryI’m sorry u didn’t get what u needed THM: it's ok, I was confused then and it’s hard to get what you need when you don't ask for it- in fact you do everything in your power to pretend you don't need ityour too tough for lovetoo strong for it or whatevertoo apathetic... maybe MVT: and thats why its so hard to get overcuz its the last thing u want but at the same time exactly what u want
    THM: Yeah- it's a fix- Drugs give you so much... a pursuit, a power, stimulation, an identity, a kind of anti-heroism, attention, a numbness... but you Only crave those things to fill the hole caused by the absence of love/friendship/compassion/companionship... whatever that you perceive MVT: so it’s basically a never ending, unbreakable cycle that just feeds on itself
    THM: until you somehow get it through ur head that your efforts to replace the loneliness is fruitless if using drugs and the company of drug users MVT: that must be hard to realize tho
    THM: yeah, especially because even when you do the loneliness doesn't go away... you have to learn to live with it while working for what you want
    MVT: oye THM: but usually your life is so far fucked it's hard to believe there is really a worthwhile alternativethat’s why most kids have to get sent away MVT: that makes sense THM: Anyway, I feel for him- that’s all MVT: I understand why u do THM: I want to save this conversation and give it to him, actually
    MVT: do itit might help himu have a lot of insight, obviously THM: yeah- but it's also entirely possible I'm projecting myself onto him... maybe his story is different... MVT: well yeah maybe... but i still feel like addiction has a lot of common ground THM: Yeah, I mean I don't think I'm wrong, but then again, I never think I'm wrong... MVT: hahai think ur right in this case tho THM: Well, even if, it would still help him to articulate the differences in his story and perhaps force him into self-reflection
    MVT: good pointself-reflection = good THM: Yeah... he knows how... maybe we can just talk in public with no drugs MVT: thats a good ideasober talking
    THM:you should come...yay!!
    MVT: haha id feel so awkward THM: so drink firsthahahaJust kidding MVT: hahah
    THM: its ok, i'll make it less awkward... I'm so good at that [wink wink]
    MVT: hmmm perhapsif nothing else im coming to at least see u tho
    THM: plus you should talk to him, he really is a chill guyI may enjoy his company more than I enjoy hersWhich is really fucked up MVT: haha no i know ive talked to him quite a few times... hes actually friendly and easy to get along with THM: It funny how he's just a kid, a good somewhat well socialized kid, just like the rest of us... he's just neurotically utilizing mind altering substances to feel what most people have to earn in life...I have to stop psychoanalyzing people
    MVT: haha u should become a psychiatrist THM: aahhhh... no... That’s too legit for me... I'm committed to my worthless major
    anyway... I read too much I like psycho Babel *** because it helps me understand myself, but I think really he's just procrastinating doing life and trying to feel as if has something worthwhile to pursue and care about
     MVT: ahha good point.. too legitoh yeahur right i think THM: wait, what was that... I didn't hear you. Did you say I was... MVT: hahah dont make me repeat itu get one and thats itCherish it THM: I feel like I've just been baptizedThank you Father MVT: hahahaanytime my child THM: I love you Hey, I think I'm getting better at interacting with boys without thinking about sex...  MVT: haha thats goodull get it eventually
    THM: Yeah... I mean... I've just been having really great conversations with different guys and I keep thinking like wow this is nice, I like talking to you without letting my mind wonder to whether or not he wants to do meIt's hard for me to have intellectual chemistry with a boy and not want to test the chemistry further MVT: That’s so good! THM: but I suppose I should let him do the testing if he wants to and just be like normal girls and take the interaction at face value MVT: yes exactlySamantha ur thinking like normal personi like it THM: No- I'm thinking like a girl standardized by gender roles MVT: haha shut up THM: hahait's true thoughI'm essentially saying it's abnormal for a girl to go after what she wantsand instead just surrender the ball to the male's court MVT: haha i guesss THM: yeah... MVT: ur a goof
    THM: Yes it is true...but would you have me any other way?? MVT: haha of course not
    THM: goodI love you too MVT: haha i love you? THM: Yesyesyou do MVT: yeash THM: typing is hard MVT: agreedwhy do they make the buttons so smallor keys or whatever they’re called THM: I don't know... To be fair to people with smaller hands? MVT: haha i guessbut wouldnt u thinkthey could make them smallerand then it’s fair to everyonethe smaller hands people would still be ok THM: Maybe they measured the average hands span and optimized the buttons to fit perfectly in the found leangth
    MVT: haha if they did then im ok with thatbut i bet they didn’tbastards THM: giggleI seriously just laughed out loudmy wordthis has been quite the experience
    MVT: hahah agreed THM: I think I'll call it a night... I still try to save this conversation though... Goodnight *Mutual Victim of Tension* MVT: haha ill most likely cya tomorrow goodnight *The hypothetical me* THM: *yawn* MVT: haha get some sleep foo THM: aye, aye captain- can't figure out how to save it though MVT: ah thats okitll live on in our hearts   To be continued…


  • I get so attached to my writing, even my emails, I really like learning about myself


    Yay!! So nice to talk to someone [who listens *cough* male mutual firend *cough*] about all these intricacies in life. It’s hard though, the brick wall is unavoidable. At the end of the day at least half of the reasons I believe what I believe is because this particular illusion pushes the right psychological buttons and puts me at ease. I know that most of my life/childhood has been spent wanting things to be true more than actually evaluating their validity. But this was the mind blowing year that jarred loose many of the repressions designed by my self-preserving developing mind.  The book helped me situate my angst ridden and freed intellect in what I believe to me a more accurate representation of Truth. That being that the symbolic world, the human agenda, and all the things we feel but can’t touch are in fact self-created. Still they are real because they are real to us. They are in some way the terms of the contract that binds us to our bodies in exchange for windows into the world. We are not floating souls and our urge to propel forward and our thirst for knowledge is beyond our control. I do believe though, as the book insinuates, that knowledge in it of itself is a pursuit, a distraction, a means of denying mortality the same way a child automatically fabricates himself in the belief systems imposed on him. The mind wants to feel stable, the mind wants to believe, and so it grounds itself in illusions that become a reality to it- to me. I guess I’m saying I believe my thoughts are just a bodily function to sustain my bodily needs which has come to include intellectual sustenance for the evolved human being. I suppose that does make faith a gap-filler, it makes pretty much everything a gap-filler, and I suppose that’s how I see life; a gap between birth and death. Still I look at myself from afar in a way, and see that I am week animal confined to my impulses, yet unlike other animals I face the torment of knowing that. I face the torment of knowing that my agenda is the whole world and at the same time an utter insignificance. I am everything in my internal world, my intellectually perceiving self sustaining real world, and next to nothing in my almost brush with objectivity. So when it comes to faith, I believe in the possibility of patterns existing above my comprehension- I believe in that possibility whole heartedly. At the same time I know psychologically why I believe it- why I choose to believe it- what solidity it gives me in waking life- and while I think that existing as a belief is not the same as existing, I don’t think that it can be called false or none- existent...

     Does that help clarify my beliefs or did I miss the point, I kind of ran away with my thoughts. Anyway I kind of want to be proven wrong just because this world view leaves me so unbelievably jaded sometimes.

    P.S. Schools over- will reflect on that later


  • Somebody tell me something worthwhile

    Please- anything

  • I’m getting all Emo again

    I have the chills. What am I doing… numbing… Mental breakdown- Mental breakdown- Hips- cold.

    I don’t why. I remember looking up at him.  

    But the kaleidoscope of phallic images was not what I thought I wanted.

    Dancing- jagged sharp steps counter-intuitively stylized- I will forever know to count the beat and ride the wave of intuition.

    What was I to him- for him?

    Definitions feel heavy and forced onto me

    The listless whore-

    moans thirsting for satiation like hunger pangs

    For the moments that enslave the parasite of pursuit   

    Cold to the touch

    Warming only to the brush of chemical euphoria

    Unloved by selfish beings that stomp clumsily over my selfish distress

     I Undress

    Just to be groped wildly

    Paws at my supple chest

    What am I?

    Decisions to be lost in the perfunctory music of automatica

    Who indifferently swallows the color blue

    Please G-d, be alive-

    I don’t want to be alone anymore