Ne'er do well
Pronunciation: nair-du-"wel
Function: noun
Date: 1736
Meaning: An idle, worthless person.
Thanks, Cyndi.
Saturday, November 30, 2002
Soiree
So strange. So, so strange.
I never thought I would run into those people again, but I did. ON PURPOSE. AT A PARTY.
And it was grand.
Let me explain.
I was supposed to go out with Jesse after work this evening, but he had to wake up at an ungodly hour the next (this) morning and wasn't really keen on the idea. So, I decided to take up Sarah Goldman's (and Matt Burris') offer to go to Matt's party.
These are people I was best friends with circa 1998-2000. They gave me the best childhood memories I'll ever remember. We lost touch over the years, mainly, I believe, because of my sexuality. They pushed me away because they were scared of me; I pushed them away because I was scared of myself. It was a bitter, uneventful farewell.
But, i wanted to see Sarah, so I attended Matt's party.
It was like a venture into the catacombs of my foggy memory--everyone I'd ever had some sort of fun/wierd/amazing experience with was there. It was like we were all in another CTE show together, and this was just another post-rehearsal shindig. I'll make a list:
Sarah
Best friend throughout middle school/freshman year of HS. We would call each other the moment we got home from school, chat until we had to go to rehearsal, chate all through rehearsal, and then phone each other following the aforementioned rehearsal. It was great. She was great, and seemingly still is. One of those friends you remember at the oddest and most comforting of times.
Everyone else
Everyone acted exactly the same as I remembered. Which is strange. I think we all pulled that CTE personality from the trunks in our attics, brushed the dust off, and wore them to the party. It was eerie, like nothing had ever changed.
What do people now look like?
Most of my fellow theatrical alums didn't change a bit. A bit of weight gain here, a different hairstyle there. Highlights include Tim N.(ess) becoming an intensely beauiful fellow, Katie K.(orby) struggling to come off as artsy and important (I shouldn't say struggling...jealousy perhaps), and Jacob A.(kemann) just growing taller and more awkward.
All in all, a surprisingly great evening.
I am writing shittier and shittier every post. Must get back in shape, linguistically-speaking.
Tomorrow: work forever and 23.5 hours, (hopefully!) lunch with another distant best friend, Laurne McLaurne, and an evening in Chicago (please?) with Theo.
Oh. Is it too much to ask for a "good deed" every once in awhile? I don't think so.
Another oh. Oh. Tara--that song is not good. At all. I'm sorry.
So strange. So, so strange.
I never thought I would run into those people again, but I did. ON PURPOSE. AT A PARTY.
And it was grand.
Let me explain.
I was supposed to go out with Jesse after work this evening, but he had to wake up at an ungodly hour the next (this) morning and wasn't really keen on the idea. So, I decided to take up Sarah Goldman's (and Matt Burris') offer to go to Matt's party.
These are people I was best friends with circa 1998-2000. They gave me the best childhood memories I'll ever remember. We lost touch over the years, mainly, I believe, because of my sexuality. They pushed me away because they were scared of me; I pushed them away because I was scared of myself. It was a bitter, uneventful farewell.
But, i wanted to see Sarah, so I attended Matt's party.
It was like a venture into the catacombs of my foggy memory--everyone I'd ever had some sort of fun/wierd/amazing experience with was there. It was like we were all in another CTE show together, and this was just another post-rehearsal shindig. I'll make a list:
Sarah
Best friend throughout middle school/freshman year of HS. We would call each other the moment we got home from school, chat until we had to go to rehearsal, chate all through rehearsal, and then phone each other following the aforementioned rehearsal. It was great. She was great, and seemingly still is. One of those friends you remember at the oddest and most comforting of times.
Everyone else
Everyone acted exactly the same as I remembered. Which is strange. I think we all pulled that CTE personality from the trunks in our attics, brushed the dust off, and wore them to the party. It was eerie, like nothing had ever changed.
What do people now look like?
Most of my fellow theatrical alums didn't change a bit. A bit of weight gain here, a different hairstyle there. Highlights include Tim N.(ess) becoming an intensely beauiful fellow, Katie K.(orby) struggling to come off as artsy and important (I shouldn't say struggling...jealousy perhaps), and Jacob A.(kemann) just growing taller and more awkward.
All in all, a surprisingly great evening.
I am writing shittier and shittier every post. Must get back in shape, linguistically-speaking.
Tomorrow: work forever and 23.5 hours, (hopefully!) lunch with another distant best friend, Laurne McLaurne, and an evening in Chicago (please?) with Theo.
Oh. Is it too much to ask for a "good deed" every once in awhile? I don't think so.
Another oh. Oh. Tara--that song is not good. At all. I'm sorry.
Friday, November 29, 2002
Thanks
Thanksgiving is always a sort of awkward holiday. I feel like we all have to put on this cheerful, content facade on holidays, and Thanksgiving is the epitome of that Marsha Brady-esque faux optomism. It's good to be thankful of things, but when exactly do we celebrate MyLifeSucks Day? Oh, that's right--it's called Valentine's Day.
I went to Waukegan for lunch/dinner with my mother's family, and then saw "Die Another Day" with Theo. Strangely enough, they both struck me as overrated, status quo, and droll. I just never got into family affairs/James Bond. It was kind of fun to see a film with Theo tonight though--last Thanksgiving, we had our second date ("Amelie") and our first kiss. It's so strange, to look back to a day that occured a YEAR ago and think, "Yep, that massive part of my life is still there, relatively unchanged, and I'm still happy about it."
Work all day tomorrow. Come visit me. It's going to be hellacious.
Thanksgiving is always a sort of awkward holiday. I feel like we all have to put on this cheerful, content facade on holidays, and Thanksgiving is the epitome of that Marsha Brady-esque faux optomism. It's good to be thankful of things, but when exactly do we celebrate MyLifeSucks Day? Oh, that's right--it's called Valentine's Day.
I went to Waukegan for lunch/dinner with my mother's family, and then saw "Die Another Day" with Theo. Strangely enough, they both struck me as overrated, status quo, and droll. I just never got into family affairs/James Bond. It was kind of fun to see a film with Theo tonight though--last Thanksgiving, we had our second date ("Amelie") and our first kiss. It's so strange, to look back to a day that occured a YEAR ago and think, "Yep, that massive part of my life is still there, relatively unchanged, and I'm still happy about it."
Work all day tomorrow. Come visit me. It's going to be hellacious.
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
Salvation, salvation
It changes every day. No, not my underwear, silly--my plans for next semester.
I came home from work an hour ago, and my parents told me that they want me to attend a university in Chicago, given that:
1. I see a psychiatrist regularly.
2. I get a debit card, so that I don't rack up their Gold Card every month.
3. I make a "good faith effort" to get along with ma famille.
4. I don't go to Columbia unless I really really have to.
So, I'm quite pleased. My life is on its way up! Have a great Thanksgiving, all.
It changes every day. No, not my underwear, silly--my plans for next semester.
I came home from work an hour ago, and my parents told me that they want me to attend a university in Chicago, given that:
1. I see a psychiatrist regularly.
2. I get a debit card, so that I don't rack up their Gold Card every month.
3. I make a "good faith effort" to get along with ma famille.
4. I don't go to Columbia unless I really really have to.
So, I'm quite pleased. My life is on its way up! Have a great Thanksgiving, all.
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
Die (yet) Another Day
Sometimes, I have these evenings where I just want to cease to exist. Tonight was one of those nights.
My parents make me wonder exactly how I grew up to be queer and liberal--they're so against anything different. It really bothers me.
I had to see C. Shannon tonight--she's a wonderful person, and I'm really glad she's "so happy," but for some reason, it just makes me feel even shittier about myself. Why does (seemingly) everyone else I used to be close to have the right to be happier than I am? I wrote pages and pages in my other journal about this tonight. When will my turn come?
I've been coerced into singing at a foreign church in Algonquin for Christmas. Not only am I in some octet, but I'm also being forced to sing "O Holy Night." I cannot sing anymore. This will be crap. Utter crap.
I'm in such an emotional rut right now...I feel like someone else is conducting my Life Train, and I'm just a helpless passenger. My parents are deciding my collegic fate; my peers determine my self-esteem. My job dictates my schedule; the weather tells my car what to do. (Which, lately, include very bad things.) I'm so helpless right now.
Theme song: "Die Another Day." I feel empowered when I'm listening to it--as if I cannot die today, because someday I'll escape this POW camp and reach the metaphorical end of the tunnel.
Sometimes, I have these evenings where I just want to cease to exist. Tonight was one of those nights.
My parents make me wonder exactly how I grew up to be queer and liberal--they're so against anything different. It really bothers me.
I had to see C. Shannon tonight--she's a wonderful person, and I'm really glad she's "so happy," but for some reason, it just makes me feel even shittier about myself. Why does (seemingly) everyone else I used to be close to have the right to be happier than I am? I wrote pages and pages in my other journal about this tonight. When will my turn come?
I've been coerced into singing at a foreign church in Algonquin for Christmas. Not only am I in some octet, but I'm also being forced to sing "O Holy Night." I cannot sing anymore. This will be crap. Utter crap.
I'm in such an emotional rut right now...I feel like someone else is conducting my Life Train, and I'm just a helpless passenger. My parents are deciding my collegic fate; my peers determine my self-esteem. My job dictates my schedule; the weather tells my car what to do. (Which, lately, include very bad things.) I'm so helpless right now.
Theme song: "Die Another Day." I feel empowered when I'm listening to it--as if I cannot die today, because someday I'll escape this POW camp and reach the metaphorical end of the tunnel.
Tick tick boom
I was going to be clever/kitschy and post on the glorious one year anniversary of my Blog. But, it's now 2:00AM on the day AFTER I published my first entry here, so the whole countdown thing was for naught. Sorry to let you down.
This past year has been quite...well, different from any of the other 18 years I've had. I found love, became a much more politically-oriented and independent individual. Like all of the other years I've forged through, I've had my share of accomplishments and letdowns--it just seems like those occasions were much more monumental and defining of who I am today.
Drivel...all drivel.
The best thing I can remember that has happened all year actually occured last night: for reasons unmentioned, I was outside of my house around midnight. Suddenly, I sensed some movement in the distance, and discovered a family of deer nonchalantly strolling through my backyard, not ten feet from where I was standing. It was very humbling, like I was less than all the things I thought I was and simply another animal, grazing on the Earth I've learned nothing about in Astronomy.
Tomorrow: photoessay and record of things that have happened since I last posted. Thank you for coming back. I missed you. Really. I did.
I was going to be clever/kitschy and post on the glorious one year anniversary of my Blog. But, it's now 2:00AM on the day AFTER I published my first entry here, so the whole countdown thing was for naught. Sorry to let you down.
This past year has been quite...well, different from any of the other 18 years I've had. I found love, became a much more politically-oriented and independent individual. Like all of the other years I've forged through, I've had my share of accomplishments and letdowns--it just seems like those occasions were much more monumental and defining of who I am today.
Drivel...all drivel.
The best thing I can remember that has happened all year actually occured last night: for reasons unmentioned, I was outside of my house around midnight. Suddenly, I sensed some movement in the distance, and discovered a family of deer nonchalantly strolling through my backyard, not ten feet from where I was standing. It was very humbling, like I was less than all the things I thought I was and simply another animal, grazing on the Earth I've learned nothing about in Astronomy.
Tomorrow: photoessay and record of things that have happened since I last posted. Thank you for coming back. I missed you. Really. I did.
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
One last thing before the static
This broadcaster will only be taking an extended leave of absence from his work. This hiatus may last three months, three weeks, or three days. I just have to resolve things within myself without my audience. I'm spending the next week reading, writing, and sleeping on the ocean's beach.
I don't normally do these. But this was entertaining.
Which Ani DiFranco Album Are You?
Brought to you by Tracie
"You've been through a lot, and all of that has made you a stronger person. You're kind, sensitive, loving...you've got a dark side though, and you've probably done a few things you aren't proud of, but hey, you've learned from your mistakes. Which is a lesson most people don't bother to learn."
How...appropos. I'll be seeing you.
This broadcaster will only be taking an extended leave of absence from his work. This hiatus may last three months, three weeks, or three days. I just have to resolve things within myself without my audience. I'm spending the next week reading, writing, and sleeping on the ocean's beach.
I don't normally do these. But this was entertaining.
Which Ani DiFranco Album Are You?
Brought to you by Tracie
"You've been through a lot, and all of that has made you a stronger person. You're kind, sensitive, loving...you've got a dark side though, and you've probably done a few things you aren't proud of, but hey, you've learned from your mistakes. Which is a lesson most people don't bother to learn."
How...appropos. I'll be seeing you.
Saturday, November 02, 2002
Au revoir
I don't think I'm going to continue posting here. I feel like my life is so utterly pointless, and sweeping around in a downward spiral. Why shall I market my mistakes and emotional distress for you all? I don't want pity, and I certainly don't want you to judge me based upon anything that has or will happen during my brief stay at Mizzou. Thank you all for supporting my journal by coming to it as many times as you may have come, and in turn, supporting me through everything I've been through for the past year. May my blog inspire you all to:
1. Start a journal of your own--be it online or on paper. It really is a great tool to have, for personal reflection and all that. I will continue to write in my own journal, because this experience has proven to be an effective means of getting it all out, Anne Frank-style. If and when you do decide to join the literally millions of Blog users, please E-mail me your link at Boyinbrownshirt@aol.com.
2. Learn from my victories and mistakes. Just...learn from it.
3. Most importantly, as cliche as this is, live life to the fullest, with no concern for what others think of you (with good intentions, of course). If you don't shed the gritty skin society cakes onto you, you'll never be able to see your real self. Exfoliate. It feels good.
Thank you all again. And, as Cyrol Connoly wrote, it is "better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."
Best regards,
Me
I don't think I'm going to continue posting here. I feel like my life is so utterly pointless, and sweeping around in a downward spiral. Why shall I market my mistakes and emotional distress for you all? I don't want pity, and I certainly don't want you to judge me based upon anything that has or will happen during my brief stay at Mizzou. Thank you all for supporting my journal by coming to it as many times as you may have come, and in turn, supporting me through everything I've been through for the past year. May my blog inspire you all to:
1. Start a journal of your own--be it online or on paper. It really is a great tool to have, for personal reflection and all that. I will continue to write in my own journal, because this experience has proven to be an effective means of getting it all out, Anne Frank-style. If and when you do decide to join the literally millions of Blog users, please E-mail me your link at Boyinbrownshirt@aol.com.
2. Learn from my victories and mistakes. Just...learn from it.
3. Most importantly, as cliche as this is, live life to the fullest, with no concern for what others think of you (with good intentions, of course). If you don't shed the gritty skin society cakes onto you, you'll never be able to see your real self. Exfoliate. It feels good.
Thank you all again. And, as Cyrol Connoly wrote, it is "better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."
Best regards,
Me
Friday, November 01, 2002
The morning after
"Drunk dialing" is soooo not cool.
Last night, Jen, Erin and I basically just ran around and were loud and stupid. Is anyone surprised? I wasn't.
Erin is relatively angry with me...or rather, she resents me. She wanted to go to a party in Mexico, Missouri, but didn't because Jen and I didn't want her to. So I imagine she's upset with me. I knew she wanted to go to the party, and sort of figured that she wouldn't want me going. I don't know how I feel about it, but it's over so whatever.
My stomach and brain are currently involved in an age-old debate over whether or not I shall vomit. My stomach insists that it has things in it that shouldn't be in there until I'm twenty-one years old, but my head is rattling on about the horrors of vomiting and such. What to do, what to do, they ask.
I'm going to leave my drunken rants posted, so that I may look back upon this fateful Halloween with nostalgic disgust. (Notalgic disgust is like thinking about the eighties: "I had such a great time, but honestly, did I REALLY need to wear all of those socks and that side ponytail? And parachute pants? Who would have thought...")
"Drunk dialing" is soooo not cool.
Last night, Jen, Erin and I basically just ran around and were loud and stupid. Is anyone surprised? I wasn't.
Erin is relatively angry with me...or rather, she resents me. She wanted to go to a party in Mexico, Missouri, but didn't because Jen and I didn't want her to. So I imagine she's upset with me. I knew she wanted to go to the party, and sort of figured that she wouldn't want me going. I don't know how I feel about it, but it's over so whatever.
My stomach and brain are currently involved in an age-old debate over whether or not I shall vomit. My stomach insists that it has things in it that shouldn't be in there until I'm twenty-one years old, but my head is rattling on about the horrors of vomiting and such. What to do, what to do, they ask.
I'm going to leave my drunken rants posted, so that I may look back upon this fateful Halloween with nostalgic disgust. (Notalgic disgust is like thinking about the eighties: "I had such a great time, but honestly, did I REALLY need to wear all of those socks and that side ponytail? And parachute pants? Who would have thought...")