Live Like You Have Nothing to Lose - All parts of life gradually become noticably more divine, noticably more fun than ever before. Here too we have one of life's wildest mysteries -- the end and the beginning running into each other over and over again like some kind of eternal life. Which is what these then things aim to do for you before you die: show you how to undo misery and death and live forever.
posted Thursday, September 20, 2001
Phone Call
I'm shaking.
You'd think after breaking up with someone and not talking to them for two weeks (two and a half, actually), I would be okay after calling them. It was good to hear his voice. He was in that sweet, somnolent, melancholy mood ? not unlike a good-looking shirt or hairstyle ? that I had always loved him in.
Secretly, part of me wanted him to be mean, upset, distant, or even slightly cool to me, but he was none of those things so now I'm left trembling. Blaming it on the coffee won't help any. I've got to identify this feeling inside of me, the root of this weed.
It's not nervousness, although it feels the same. Okay, well, maybe it is a bit of anxiety, tossed in with a few other emotions. But anxiety over what? Over what he might say to me, what he was thinking? A bit nervous that I might be stirring up a nest of snakes?
I just feel bad. And I shouldn't. Because everything turned out the way it was supposed to ? better than it was supposed to ? and I know deep down that it was the right decision. Why do I feel so bad?
One of the thoughts that keeps drifting back and forth in front of this question says, "Why ask why?" Just accept it. The thing of it is, I need to figure this out, because I don't want to feel this way again. I need to know what it is, how I planted it, and what's feeding it.
Well, right now, it's time to feed myself. My stomach is growling. Maybe that's why I'm trembling... it's always easier to blame your problems on external sources rather than internal.
posted Tuesday, September 18, 2001
Random Encounter
As I was purchasing my buddy pass for Vail today, I happened to catch a glimpse of a beautiful boy. Okay, so I did more than catch a glimpse. He was working at the sporting goods store, looking very busy, walking to and fro, and since the line I was standing it was taking such an awfully long time to move, I casually sauntered over to the shoe section in hopes he would help me.
Tony ? not "Sty" as his nametag read ? was enough to cause me a headache by himself without the screaming children in the store. He was so attractive, it hurt. I watched him come closer out of the corner of my eye, and when he approached and asked to help, I let him help me try on a few shoes. I was very professional with him, never giving him a reason to think I might be interested. I squeezed every last drop of conversation surrounding the shoes I was trying on, and thanked him for helping me. He smiled and I felt a stabbing pain in my chest.
I don't think I've ever been around anyone who I found attractive enough to cause me physical pain. This is pretty intense stuff (thus my recording it). He was so beautiful, it scared me. The things I would do. I stopped myself as background processes in my mind conjured preposterous, insidious plans and constructed deleterious thoughts. I felt sick to my stomach. I closed my eyes and tried to put myself somewhere else.
I have never felt this before. How could a simple glimpse or a few minutes interaction, cause me so much mental turmoil? I felt my face flush and my ears burn. Everything in the store faded out. Time seemed to slow to a molasses pace like a bad movie effect. I breathed in and it took everything I had to focus on the task at hand. I wonder if I'll ever feel this way about someone who feels the same way about me.
Actually, that scares me even more.
posted Tuesday, September 18, 2001
Desultory Emotional State
I seem to be emotionally unstable as of late. A list of missing persons on the news or even the right song lyric can send me into tears. This is actually kind of cool, since I'm normally unable to cry at anything. It feels good.
posted Saturday, September 15, 2001
Beginnings and Endings
So, the key to this whole thing is to just start typing. Sometimes I can barely bring myself to "write" anything down in fear of seeming nonchalant about the week's atrocities or cold or heartless, but I know the key is to keep up the forward movement. At least I can type with my eyes closed.
School orientation was today. It feels weird to say I'm a graduate student because that always carried the weight and presumption that said student was equipped with an arsenal of actual knowledge. Any concrete knowledge in my head has long since sunk to the depths never ? or randomly ? to be recovered.
Somehow, I still maintain the hope that I'll meet some good and interesting people at school during this program, but as I walked with a group of twenty or so new enrollees, that hope faltered. I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise, since the dedicated students who actually aim for high achievement are in places known for it. Harvard. Yale. Columbia. What kinds of people did I expect to be attending a small, technical college in America's Bible Belt-Buckle? I stopped myself somewhere at this point in my train of thought.
After orientation, I bought my books and headed up to Denver to meet with Susanna, an intern of Jeff's who, coincidentally, is from the same city in Taiwan that my mother was from. We've written a few emails back and forth over the past few months, and decided it was time to actually go over some concrete evidence my mother left of her existence ? a few letters from her family ? and some of my Chinese lessons.
She made me rather uncomfortable, because she is so polite and impersonal (although extremely friendly and a good conversationalist). It is hard to explain unless you are familiar with native Chinese. Physical contact is unusual in Chinese culture, and when I went to hug her goodbye she stiffened slightly, obviously uncomfortable. I figured she'd just have to get used to it, but I also vowed to expand my personal bubble a foot or two outward.
After a quick jaunt around the city, I joined Lindsay for dinner. The usual dim sum and then some at Sien Sien, with a hefty side order of bitching. As much history as we have together, I'm starting to grow weary of her constant complaining but I'm not going to join her by making this a bitchsession about her, either. I know I accepted this as part of her personality when we became friends oh-so long ago, but right now I'm just exhausted.
A few more stops at a birthday party and a quick stop at a concert to see a friend, and I'm back at home. Truly exhausted. I can't imagine what the rescue workers in New York feel like right about now. I'm channelling my remaining energy to them. So sleepy. Good thing I can type with my eyes closed.
posted Friday, September 14, 2001
Cruising for a Bruising
So, I've carried on. Work has let me rearrange my schedule to four, ten-hour days instead of five eight?s and I had the day to sleep in and work around the house. I keep hacking at the bills and paperwork around here, but it never seems to go away. Whenever anyone used to say that before I turned 21, it would go in one ear and out the other. Now, I'm starting to get it. That's all growing up is, really. Realizing for yourself everything grownups used to tell you when you were younger.
Since the break-up a few weeks ago, the cruising habit has kicked in again. I find myself sitting up late at night, chatting up Internet users, and going out to the bars with Dave and other friends. I've met a few guys, but nothing more friendly dates, I think. It's fun to be dating again. I've been pretty good so far, too. Nothing but totally polite and respectable. So that's fun for a change.
Maintaining youthful optimism has been a conscious effort of late. It came so easily before, but I'm starting to notice my straining grip. The tendons in my forearm tense and my veins are bulging (Mmm...). Every so often, I see that shadow creeping along the visible edges of my thoughts. It whispers disheartening things about how this is As Good As It Gets, and to Give Up because no matter how hard you look You'll Never Find It.
Cynicism. That's the word I'm looking for. I'm holding cynicism at bay with a burning torch, and it slithers along the outside of this lighted perimeter like those creatures in Pitch Black. Which is a great movie, by the way. I'm sure I've mentioned this in the past, but I love Vin Diesel. Vin, baby, if you're reading this, I'm a single guy, fairly intelligent, handsome, have seen all your movies (including Iron Giant) and give great... massages. Wanna date?
Yeah. This cruising thing is getting a little out of hand. Luckily, I have my Ben & Jerry's in the freezer to take my mind of such disgraceful flimflam.
posted Thursday, September 13, 2001
Catharsis
When I was 14, I saw a man shot in the back of the head ten feet in front of me. The memory isn't fluid. That is, I don't remember the shot in slow motion, or him falling to the ground, or even the sound of the gun going off, but rather a series of discrete images in my mind. One minute he's standing there (between two cars, orange shirt, brown curly hair, mustache) and the next minute he's lying face down in a pool of blood.
I feel pressure build on my ear-drums. As if coming out of a tunnel, the silence around my head is slowly penetrated by a gradual increase in volume and my mother's scream suddenly rings full pitch in my ears. Her fingernails dig into my shoulder and I feel the weight of her body as she runs, pushing me away from the body and towards the car. The parking lot rushes in around us.
I remember being fully unemotional during the entire scene. Not shocked or scared, but simply devoid of feeling. I wasn't really sure what to make of it. Looking back at the crowd of people gathering and the body on the ground, I remember just watching as I was rushed away. It was the first time I had ever encountered death first-hand, although certainly not the last.
Many people are taking these days as an opportunity to talk about death. The plane crashes have opened a crater in the mind of the world that is slowly flooding with talk and horror and disbelief and celebration and ignorance and emotions of every kind. As much as I try to carry on, the topic is unavoidable. Even the attempt to ignore it is ? in an offhanded way ? acknowledging it at the same time.
I successfully avoided seeing any footage of people leaping from the World Trade Center. Every time they would show it, I would look away. It's not that I wanted to deny it happening, I just didn't want to see it happening. I had enough horror going on inside my head. Imagination tends to be worse than reality, but I can at least refute whatever preposterous conjurings my mind comes up with as only imagination, whereas the horror on television must be acknowledged.
posted Wednesday, September 12, 2001
The Day After
Woke up this morning feeling like I had been tormented by a bad dream. Then I realized it wasn't a dream. Things are perfectly normal here, with people carrying on their daily routines and the weather being beautiful as ever. The difference is in my head and in the heads of everyone around me.
I'm slightly nervous to find out what our country is going to do. Although fairly certain now that the US won't strike right away with fists, I feel the mass of the continent quietly reeling. And I don't trust the monkey. I pray for common sense from the people.
I felt a tinge of guilt yesterday, as I went about my daily chores, cleaning and eating and paying bills and watching television, but I realized that I can't let this stop my life. Any one of us could die at any time, and it's not our place to sit around and worry about the death of others or our own death. Our job is to pick up life by the roots and run with it while we still have legs and arms and hearts.
posted Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Tuesday Morning Attack
This has been an extremely strange and terrible morning. After an unusual cup of coffee, I've been stationary in front of the television watching the smoke and destruction unfold at the World Trade Center in NYC and Pentagon in Washington, D.C.
It was comforting to know that the events were occurring two thousand miles away, but it has hit closer to home with the evacuation of Federal buildings and the capital building here in Denver. There is a strange air in the office as people stand huddled around radios and televisions.
In a sort of sick thrill, I watched, unmoving, as explosion after collapse after explosion occurred. I feel drawn, in a way, to the disaster as though it is feeding some part of my psyche. Part of me wants to see the remaining hijacked planes continue unintercepted, just to observe the full outcome of this horrible plan.
This cannot ? will not ? happen, of course, and as the nation and fighter jets scramble to strike down the continuing threats, the sense of anxious anticipation returns. Things seem, for the moment to have slowed, if not calmed, a bit.
So much will happen because of today.
posted Monday, September 10, 2001
Tracks Closes
I had originally planned on titling this entry "The End of an Era," but I didn't want to give Tracks that much credit. The dance club ? probably the most popular in Denver ? closed on Saturday after what was supposed to be a major party, but ended up being just another night at Tracks. The one major difference was a sweltering, suffocating crowd.
Scott and I arrived at around 9 p.m. Had anyone heard of such a thing prior to the closing, we would have been laughed at, but considering the circumstances everyone had arrived early. There was a line of about 300 people wrapping around the parking lot and into the entrance alleyway, causing us to consider turning around immediately. Dave convinced us to park and stand in line anyway. An hour later and we were inside, which we decided wasn't too bad.
The crowd kept piling in until there was only standing room, which made for quite the cozy evening. There was much dancing ? up and down, anyway ? and as soon as it started to get too crowded, we left and headed to another club where more dancing took place. It was another night at Tracks, nothing special, nothing outstanding. It was an appropriately mediocre end.
It's been a while since I partied with the girls. I've abstained mostly because I've grown accustomed to early-night turn-ins and have been trying to avoid the drug/club/fag scene altogether. Feeling somewhat obligated to go, though, I ended up agreeing to join them and, subsequently, enjoyed myself.
Being there reminded me of all the good times I had had. I always said I had one of the best nights of my life there, not because of the location, but because of the events that took place and the people I was with.
I was 19 and on one of my last months living in Denver. The past couple of weeks had been particularly bad because my roommate, Ed, and I had been having an ongoing fight. That Saturday, I decided to go to Tracks ? by the graces of Scotty ? to relieve some tension and dance a bit. Dave couldn't make it that night, so I had to go by myself, which was unusual for me at the time.
Upon arrival, I met up with Alan and Kali in Heaven's Lounge, the hip, disco room with the tic-tac-toe dance floor. Jeremy Inman was there, who I had had a crush on for a year or more, and we ended up talking for a good hour. Before I knew it, we were holding hands on the couch and oblivious to the rest of the room.
No sooner had Jeremy and I confessed our mutual attraction for each other, than my roommate Ed stumbled in and, upon finding me on the couch, began apologizing profusely for our fallout over the past weeks. Both of us being slightly tipsy, embraced each other and cried apologies, swearing undying love and loyalty to one another.
Later, Jeremy and I continued into the main room to dance, enamoured with one another, and as I walked through the bar upstairs, the crowds parted mysteriously. There stood Dave beaming at me. I had not expected him to be there, so his arrival was a complete surprise and I was elated to see him and share my recent adventures with him.
Of course, that night has gone through the usual shoe-shine of time to appear sparkling and idealistic in the light of memory, but I remember the highs and lows as though they were last week. By going Saturday night, I had hoped to capture a bit of the light and air from the club to attach to that memory, somehow bring it to life or make it more realistic. But whereas physical location can easily be reproduced, emotions and people and events must always remain ambered in memory.
posted Friday, September 7, 2001
Gutting the Situation
The past two days have been really busy, but great for my sense of well-being. I've been packing the activities in, more or less, with a thrilling sense of freedom. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, and not have to worry about anyone else's schedule. That is a big advantage to single life.
Then again, sometimes I wonder if that love for independence is detrimental to my future relationships. Will I be less likely to work something out with a boyfriend if I would rather be on my own anyway? Will I not value the time we spend together as much as the time I spend by myself? Questions to definitely keep in mind.
I still have so much to do and discover about myself. I need to get myself on my own two feet before I can offer anything of substantial value to a potential boyfriend. In my earlier college days, I had assumed that my "cocooning" phase, as I liked to call it, would only last until I graduated with my bachelor's, but now I'm realizing that I could stay in this phase and grow and grow and never come out.
I suppose I should draw the line at some point, but now is definitely not the time.
So, ultimately, my intense schedule of late is due primarily to the break up with Jeff. Not that I need to preoccupy myself, but it is more of an opening of floodgates that had been closed to make room for quality time. The activities I had been holding back ? working out at the gym, taking random classes here and there, reading, playing my PS2, writing ? are now being released in a tidal wave of recurrence.
It feels good to get myself back. I'll know when I have the right relationship when I can incorporate a man into my life without having to sacrifice those things that I enjoy doing on my own.
It was rocky the first week that Jeff made the break. Since Key West, the breakup has gone much smoother. So much so, I'm afraid there's something Jeff's not telling me, or that maybe I'm not seeing. We've had our tiffs over the past couple of months, but overall, we still get along famously and adore each other to no end. I believe this is the reason that he wants to made amends.
Despite our reputation and his conviction, there is no doubt in my mind that Jeff is not the right person for me. There is some connection that's missing, be it emotional or intellectual or simply in the way we view the world. Perhaps it's my immaturity in relationships, gay culture, and the world around me. Tonight, we are going to meet to discuss the future of our relationship, and I am planning on telling him this. I love him, but I can't continue a relationship with him. Not right now.
It scares me because I risk regretting this decision later on down the road. Jeff is offering me all I've ever wanted: telling me that he has a firm sense of commitment to our relationship, wants things to work, believes that I'm "the one for him," and that even if things don't work out, he will value the time we spent together and our friendship. And here I am preparing declinations and rejections in my head.
There is only my gut that is telling me this is the right decision ? for both of us. I can't recall a time when my instincts have been wrong about a situation, although I can remember several where my so-called "logical thinking" fubar'ed a potentially good situation. John Palmer once said that so many fuck-ups in life can be avoided if we'd stop leading with our heads and started listening to our gut instincts.
I'm going to follow this one.
posted Thursday, September 6, 2001
Deadline
It's approaching. I received my admissions letter to grad school on Tuesday, and although I had decided I wasn't going to go, I'm starting to have second thoughts. Should I do something that will benefit my career even though I have no desire to do so? Studying something that I have no passion for seems pointless to me in the grand scheme of things, but it is practically being handed to me on a silver platter. All I have to do is say "yes."
There is the practical side of me that says I should go for it because it's an easy ride and will be a ticket for more opportunities in the future. There's also the gluttonous side of me that feels I should do it just because it's there and learning anything is better than not going to school at all. These are both very tempting thoughts.
At the same time, the anchor of doubt that is holding me down says that I shouldn't waste my time (or my company's money) on something I could care less about ? in this case, a masters degree in business administration. I should be working towards completing my dream of moving to California, saving up for art school, getting out of computers. Why hold myself down for another three years when I've already held myself here the past three to complete my bachelor's degree? Does it ever end?
Granted, I may be blowing this out of proportion. After all, it doesn't hurt to work towards the degree while I'm saving money and working. And I like the idea of learning something even if it isn't what I've been dreaming of learning or doing. And I can take art classes and work towards an MBA at the same time.
I believe the root of my frustration is my growing comfort level here in my hometown. I never wanted to be here for any extended period of time, but when I stop and look around, I realize I've stayed here well past my original deadline. The plan was to complete college, move to Cali with a good degree, work and go to art school. It's turning out to be a lot harder and more complicated than that with so many other choices being offered to me now.
If only life were as simple as I used to make it out to be. Then again, perhaps it was that simple, but now that simplicity has eluded me as I've slipped into the sea of adulthood and work and goals and deadlines. There is (and has been in the past) this great move towards simplicity, where people try to simplify their lives with less of everything. That appeals to me, but at the same time, the robustness of life with a multitude of choices appeals just as much, for the perfectionist in me wants all the options to make the best of all possible decisions.
Letting go of that grip on life scares me. I believe, however, that I really can achieve some simplicity if I just let life unfold before me, rather than dictate every direction. This decision about grad school ? although not monumental on grand scales ? is difficult now, but maybe if I relax and wait, answers will come to me. This could be the greatest procrastination excuse I've ever come up with. Then again, sometimes I work best under stress, and as the deadlines near, this monster will rear its head again and again.
posted Wednesday, September 5, 2001
Missing Lonliness
You can't beat summer weather here in the Rocky Mountains. Anywhere. As I walked from my car to work ?- really the only time I ever get to spend outside anymore ? I reflected on this thought. The sun didn't blaze or sear like clear, sunny days usually do; the sun seemed content to simply shine. A cool breeze was enough to keep the air from feeling stagnant, but did not bluster nor annoy. No humidity. No bugs. Perfect. The air even smelled clean.
Spending time in lower altitudes, as I have this past month, has really led to the development of a genuine appreciation for my home state. Not that I don't love the smell of an ocean breeze or the skin softening effects of humidity, but I have definitely realized that this place has spoiled me with its beauty.
Also on said walk between car and work, I came to a chilly realization that I miss being alone. I miss my depressive winter months, pressing through piles of books and schoolwork, passing through familiar halls of familiar faces and not knowing anyone. I miss coming home and spending hours alone just reading or creating bits of art here and there.
These days have been truly filled to the brim with activity. Constantly making new lists and revising old ones. Berating myself for forgetting little things. Berating myself for not having time to do everything. I want life to slow down and I know I have the power to do so, but the crux of the problem is my desire to be everything to everyone. I try to maintain my relationships with friends in Denver, my family and friends here in town, and it stretches me to the point of breaking.
I need to stop. I will stop. Perhaps this is a cycle that happens every year, where I swing between poles of high summer activity and slow winter torpor. Well, as they say, variety is the spice of life.
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