phire14

I woke up angry at the world today. There's no explanation. Maybe a bad dream. Maybe it's because it's the first day of classes after break. Maybe I'm just tired of waking up to the same day. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe. I have no idea.

I'm angry for no reason at all.

I rolled out of bed, only to realize I would have to wait five minutes for a cup of coffee. Five minutes. No big deal. Just a stupid mistake, I set the timer wrong. It should have been ready for me, but instead I would have to wait five minutes. It's the little details that get me. Ideas, I have. I can do big things. I can think of the little things, but I forget a lot. I have to write down every little thing. I have no memory for them.

I'm angry because I'm detail oriented and I can't remember the details.

Then I sat down at my computer. Trash in my inbox. Not even spam. Just trash. People bitching. People asking for favors. People asking for help. And I want to help them, I do. But dammit, sometimes I need time to myself, too. Sometimes I don't want to be the one in control. But everytime I force someone else do it, I feel like I've let them down. People who volunteer are my saving grace. It rarely happens. Anger.

I'm angry because I'm in control and I don't always want to be.

She pops into my head. Fuck. I haven't thought about you for a long time. Rather, I don't think about you like that. I spoke to you on the phone last week. I talk to you all the time. But you don't get into my head. Why now? I can't stop it. Coffee's done. I'll have some coffee. I sip it and think about this time, and that time, and the times that might have been. And I love it. I love thinking about those times but I want it to stop. I spend all day working towards my future and all I want is to go back to the past. I sip my coffee thinking about the paradox that I live. I can't figure out how to make the two work together.

I'm angry because I'm stuck in the past and stuck in the future at the same time.
I'm angry because there is no here and now.

More email, more lists, more work, more coffee. No more girl stuck in my head. She's gone, and I'm depressed because she's the only girl I have to think about right now. And now I know what made me think of her. I need an escape. She helped me to escape back then and that's what I need right now. I need a release from the email, from the lists, from the work, from the coffee. I need someone but I don't know what I'm looking for. It's abstract. Nothing is right and I don't even know where to begin. I've built myself from the ground up on the principle that I need no one but myself; being involved with others is a luxury and not a necessity. I don't build relationships - they happen. And it just doesn't work for me anymore. Email. Lists. Work. Coffee. Too late now, there's no time to learn.

I'm angry because I'm in need and being needy isn't part of my character.
I'm angry because I've built myself into a knot of emotions that I've never learned to express.

And now I can't focus on anything. My eyes go blurry everytime I stare at something. I stare off into space. I can't focus. I go to pick things up and just knock them over. I go to write and forget what I was writing. I read something and never understand a word. I waste a lot of time, sitting, thinking. No more coffee. No more girl. All I have are papers and problem sets. Books and email. I've got an erection that I have no desire to do anything with. I do some pushups. It doesn't help. I just get angrier.

I'm angry because the control I pretend I have is a fallacy.

Time for class. Time to play the game. Time to do it because I have to. Why? For what reason? Because I have to. I have to. I want to. I just don't know why. I gather my stuff and leave, only to return because I want another cup of coffee and there's still some in the coffeemaker. I spill some. I can't focus. I leave again. I have to come back and grab a book I've forgotten. Details. I can never remember the details. I leave, but have to come back. I need a folder so that I can plan for a meeting. Control. I hate control. I leave again, and come back. I've forgotten to comb my hair. It sticks up. It looks horrible. Nothing new, but for some reason today I want to be perfect. It's just not going to happen. Anger. I can't believe that I think that my hair is what will get me the girl, and I think that maybe that's the first thing I'll work on while I rebuild myself. I leave again. Dammit. Where am I going? I have to come back and grab my schedule. I'm late. The class isn't all that important. But I can't think of what we are doing. Unfocused.

I've just relived my entire morning in five minutes of trying to leave the house. Everything that makes me angry repeats every five minutes.

I'm angry because I'm angry and now I know why.

Bookbag down. Coffee poured out. Shoes off. Hair messed up. Books away. Computer shut down.

Girl in my head.


I went back to bed.

I stand against the wall, awkward and silent. I don't know these people. I don't want to be here. But I just have nothing else to do.

Furtive glances around. Is anyone looking at me? Does anyone notice I exist?

God, I hope not. I don't want to exist here. I don't know these people. I don't want to know these people.

I zone out, unconscious to the sounds of dozens of people all trying their best to get through the night without being lonely. Trying. I stop trying. I just zone out and make it go away. I shut down again. I shut off. I close my mind, and lean against the wall.

And I notice her. Whispers to a friend. She walks up, stops deliberately, postures, and... doesn't speak. I don't want to be there. I don't want her there. I want her to go away. STOP STANDING THERE. SAY SOMETHING OR GO AWAY. But she stands there. I don't even look at her.

And she takes another, tentative step towards me. Is she embarrassed? Is that what her silence is all about? Is she afraid to speak to me? Am I that intimidating? Should I speak to her? Should I look at her? No. No, I can't.

I am emotionally and physically repulsed. I want to leave before I'm sick. The absolute desperation that I refuse to see in her eyes, the fear that no one else seems to notice, fills me with fear; I could fix you. I won't fix you. I hate myself because I can but I won't. I am physically and emotionally repulsed.

This is why I can't approach people, not because I'm incapable, but because I don't understand the ritualistic form of communication they all seem to subscribe too. I'm not afraid of embarrassing myself, I'm afraid of embarrassing them.

I lean against the wall. I don't look at her. She's waiting for something, and I don't know what it is. Why do you torture me? I don't know what to say. I don't know what you want me to say. Should I pretend I'm interested? I'm not. Should I tell you I'm not interested? No. That's not how it goes. That's not how the ritual goes.

She finally speaks, but not to me. She's drunk. She's loud. She's not as subtle as she thinks she is. She becomes bold and brazen by her embarrassment. I ignore her when she speaks to the group, when she's really speaking to me and I know it and she knows it and no one else does. I'm going to be sick by how stupid this is. I need to leave.

I move forward. She moves forward. Furtive eyes around the room -- I don't know these people; I don't want to be here. I spot the exit and move past her, but I never look at her.

So I'm sorry. I'm sorry I embarrassed you in front of your friends, in front of my friends, even though you're the only one that knows you failed. I'm sorry I can't be part of this ritual that is so important to you. I'm sorry that you are going to be alone in a room full of people, that you hoped to latch on to me for safety, and that I failed you. I'm sorry that I could have helped, but didn't.

I'm sorry that, time after time, I fail you.

Just because I find this one amusing and I got called out:

Ground Rules: The first player of this "game" starts with the topic "5 weird habits of yours" and people who get tagged need to write an LJ entry about their 5 quirky habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next 5 people to be tagged and list their names.

1. I wear socks about half the time. I like shoes, hate socks.
2. I collect novels you would find in the "Literature" section of a bookstore. You know, the ones they make you read in school, even if I have no intention of reading them myself. Same goes with classic music albums, even if I don't particularly like the album.
3. I have a real problem stopping a music album in the middle, without intending to come back and listen to the rest of it later. I have an even bigger problem stopping a song in the middle.
4. I read about and follow the gaming industry. Just the industry. I rarely play video games.
5. When I sing along to a song, I often try to sing the harmony and not the melody. I suck, but it's more fun.

Most of the people on my list have already been tagged. If you haven't and you are reading this, you've been tagged.

Does anyone want a hug? Seriously, free hugs for everyone.

In the past few days, I've noticed a huge increase in how much I tell people about my problems. I used to think that I had everything under control, and that I knew so much about myself that I could handle all of my problems myself. I still can. I used to think that I didn't have any problems at all. I don't need anyone to help me with anything right now... but what I do need are hugs.

I kept everything inside. But for the past few days I've had this overwhelming feeling. It wasn't depression. It wasn't sadness. It wasn't anger or hate. You know that feeling in the back of your throat when you're trying not to cry? That lump you can't swallow? It was that. It was that fatigue of soul that comes from trying to swallow that lump.

I used to think that the few... difficulties we'll say... that I had were nothing compared to the real problems in the world. What could possibly be of consequence in my life that was worth burdening someone else? The answer, I still feel, is nothing. There is nothing in my life so difficult that I can't deal with it on my own.. yet I've finally come to realize that it doesn't mean I can't talk about it. Or act out on it. And it's been so long in coming that an entire life's worth of difficulties are suddenly bursting out.

I'm messed up. My entire life I've been this unmovable rock that even I've come to rely on. I lean on myself. An entire lifetime of listening to other people, caring for them, believing in them, offering them advice... and it's taken me this long to realize why people tell me their problems. They aren't always looking for advice, they're looking for support. No one should deal with everything on their own, and I've finally come to realize that. And I think it makes me a stronger rock... I understand the people I'm helping so much more.

In the past few days I've had more people talk to me and talked with more people myself than at any other point in my life. Maybe it's part of the growing up I have to do, maybe it's just a quarter life crisis. Either way, I feel more complete and woefully inadequate all of sudden, all at the same time. If something this basic, this human, has been suppressed so long, what else am I hiding from myself? I shudder to think. It's so true that the more you know, the more you realize how little you know.

So if anyone needs a hug, I'm here. And other people are there as well. Not everyone needs help, but everyone needs support. Everyone needs to be told that they are human, now and then. Everyone should feel that people care enough about them to listen. No one should feel alienated, or too embarrassed to 'burden' someone with what is troubling them. Some of the best listeners can even be complete strangers.

So if anyone needs a hug, I need one too.

Just go for it, kid. They can only hurt you if you let them. They can only get you down if you lay down first.

Yes, I'm speaking to you, the one that doesn't know what they want, but wants it anyway; the one deeply, truly, madly in love with an image of a person that doesn't actually exist; you, the one waiting for things to be perfect before you can have a perfect life...

Just go for it.

When she stares at him from across the room, when he knows it but doesn't know why, when she gives up because she can't find the courage, when he gives up because he can't bear to face her grace, when love is lost because maybe it won't work out... these are the saddest of times.

I cry at night, she says, because you don't love me. I feel so lonely, he says, but I can't tell you that. I want to take a chance, she says, but I'm afraid that if I try now, things won't be perfect. I want to take a chance, he says, if only things were perfect.

No, things might not work out. Things might not work out at all. You may be left with your heart out, bleeding on the floor, wishing you had never opened your mouth. You may embarrass yourself, you may have to hide for a few days, you might have to move away. You might drive the other person off, you might lose your friendship, you might not recover. But am I the only person that thinks life without honesty is a living hell?

We live in a world where we are supposed to be embarrassed by our feelings. We pretend to interact with people, while really guarding ourselves from them. We always think to ourselves "Just wait, just wait. In a little while, things will be perfect. That's when I can do it. In a little while, things will be just right." Well, I've got news for you, Baby Bear, the porridge stays cold until you heat it up.

I, for one, find an immense amount of sympathy and respect for people who take chances and fail. How can you live your life any other way? You can't know what will work until you try it. And if things go bad, then you have another chance to rebuild even better. If people can't forgive you for taking a stand, if people can't forgive you for taking a chance, if people can't forgive you for being honest, then these people are not worth your time.

You are not depressed because life isn't what you want it to be, you're angry because your life isn't under your control. You think that life charges at you, and you must defend yourself against it. You feel bruised and battered when you flow through the rapids of time because you bounce from rock to rock without control, just waiting, hoping for calmer waters so maybe, just maybe, you can straighten yourself out before you keep on floating.

Swim, Baby Bear, swim.

When you make choices, when you take chances, when you make life your own, you can be happy even when you fail.

Walls.

Everything I see around me is a wall to climb over or break through.

No ceilings, just walls. I can still see the sky. My world is still bright. But I'm tired of breaking through walls or climbing over them.

I'm tired to my being. I am fatigued in my soul. I am Jack's muttering mass of matter.

But I'm proud, too. And selfish. So I break through the walls because I can, or because people think I can. I think I can. I think I can...


I have an urge to sit down and have a picnic. I can have a picnic right in between the walls. I'll lay down and stare up at the sky and think that the sky is beautiful and big and I am small and how the walls are small...

Would anyone like to have a picnic with me? Would anyone like to abandon daily life and stare at the sky with me? Would anyone...?

The walls... the walls keep people out. That's why I break through them.

Ever tried to explain yourself to someone? Ever tried to make them understand just why you are the way you are, and why you do the things you do? It's hard, it's really, really hard. Is this a fundamental lack of understanding of ourselves? Is it just too difficult to tell other people our subtle nuances because we don't fully understand them ourselves?

I don't think that's it. Quite the opposite, actually. Sometimes I feel like I understand myself better than anything else. But I can't put it into words. There are no words for the way that I know myself. Me and my body have our own language that can not be translated; our story can not be told except to ourself, and that is frustrating.

I found myself in the past few days trying to explain how I can be both a frat boy and an EC groupie. I found myself trying to justify my dual existence both defensively and aggressively. I wanted people to understand me and why I made the decisions I did. I feel sometimes that people judge me for not picking one over the other. People from EC scoff at the idea of the IFC and of pledging. My fraternity brothers (for the most part) talk about EC as "those weird ones" and anything abnormal I do is chalked up to my EC tendencies.


A few of my fraternity brothers took the Tours over the past few days, and they recognized that I was pretty into it. They noticed that my scout team left early; they asked if I was "elite" somehow. Of course I told them no, I was just picked for that job because the Head Scout had confidence in me, and that I really had little experience. "What's a Head Scout?" and the conversation led from there. I found myself trying to explain the tradition, mystery, alum participation, hierarchy, stories, difficulties... I stopped halfway through, realizing I was much more excited about telling the story than they were to listen. I noticed that I had repeated myself a lot for emphasis, and that I was throwing words, terms, references to stories they knew nothing about all at them at a rate of speech my poor slow tongue could barely handle. I was at a loss to make them understand why this was so important to me. I wanted to take them by the hand and say "Come with me" and show them everything about life at EC, Tours, traditions, etc.

And suddenly I realized that I had felt this way more than once on the other end. "You're leaving us for that frat? Why?" When I tried to explain what it meant to be part of the fraternity I was at a loss, but I got that same enthusiastic, repetitive diarrhea of the mouth. It was impossible to explain how I could be part of two completely different cultures and still fit in to both. But hopefully you can feel intuitively now the similarities that I was not able to express.



To the EC people (since you tend to be the ones who read this): remember how Tours makes you feel? The tradition, the mystery, the alums who keep coming around, the great stories, the camaraderie, the feeling of being part of something bigger than yourself, the feeling of being "on the inside"? That's how being in a fraternity makes me feel all the time.

To the frat people (of which, I'm sure, none are reading but in the interest of symmetry...): I pledged my loyalty, support, and enthusiasm, but not my whole psyche. My spiritual center lies elsewhere.



I hope rush is just as successful as Tours. That would make two experiences in my recent life that make me feel that I have made the right choice in not making a choice at all.

Relax.

Seriously, just relax. We've all read that away message or profile quip that says "Enjoy life, no one gets out alive anyway." but I don't think most people really do understand it.

I want to make a recommendation to everyone. Read some books by an author named John Irving. His semi-famous books include The Cider House Rules and The World According to Garp, both excellent books, and a third one called A Prayer For Owen Meany. I read these books a few years ago and wrote a paper on my interpretation of the author's view of the world. It was astonishing. Not the paper, which I do admit was good, but the worldview of Mr. John Irving.

I'll cheat and pull my thesis statement from that paper to try to explain what I mean: "According to John Irving, things like love, lust, violence, and death are not occurrences in life, they are the foundation of life itself." The bizarre and the mundane go hand in hand. There is no normal to life, it is simply a chain of events that can seem random or out of the ordinary. But there is no real ordinary. So relax.

When I was growing up I used to believe that I lived differently from other people. My parents were divorced, sometimes there would be yelling, there would be fighting, and there would be long periods in my life when nobody spoke to anyone. I would sit in class with the other kids and wonder how it was like when they went home. I would wonder how a normal life was. When I got a bit older, I started to hear stories from some of my friends about their homes, and how they grew up. Wow, I thought, they aren't as normal as I believed. One by one I found out about the abnormal lives of the people around me, the people I worked with, the random people I would meet day to day. And then I read John Irving's novels and it all clicked. This was normal. This random abnormalcy, the fact that no one lived their lives how the collective community believed they should. Life is more than just punctuated with events that leave an impact on us. There is no ambient level of normalcy that we live in most of our lives, soaring above or dipping below for a while only to return to the center. We are not flypaper with random occurrences stuck to us now and then. We don't have a definite shape when we are born, and when we die we can't look back and count how many things have stuck to us and come along for the ride. We are a tower under construction that can be built into any shape, any size, from any number of bricks of events of different colors, quality and shape.

I say relax because I see everyday how people become frantic when their lives start to fall out of that preconceived notion they have of how they should act. I don't just mean the droning working class public, I even mean the people who are counterculture, who live their lives for themselves. They don't fit into "normal" but they still have expectations of how their lives are supposed to be. True, they have set their own "normal" but it is a line they strive to follow nonetheless.

And when things go "wrong," people get tense. But they don't need to. They just need to relax. Relax their muscles, relax their feelings, relax their tight grasp on an imagined "normal" reality.

It's more than just taking things in stride, it's a belief system.

So when you don't get that job, or you vacation to Aruba, or your mom makes meatloaf, or that relationship stops being loving and starts to hurt, remember that it's just another building block for you to use how you wish, and stop acting like you've been pulled away from a normal you might not be able to reach.

Life is amazing, even when it hurts.

"Yeah, this machine runs like shit. Welcome to reality."

Welcome to reality. She said it without a hint of sarcasm. No twitch of the corner of the mouths. No undertone of mirth. She just turned back to the box she was filling with product and didn't say anything more.

I have worked in a factory for the past two summers, and today was the worst day at work I've ever had. I was asked to work overtime, so I said I would. Twelve hour days are nothing new, I worked at least two every week of last summer. It wasn't the heat, or the tediousness of the job. It was the fact that we were three people short and every machine, at some point, broke down... repeatedly... all at the same time, creating a logistical and labor nightmare beyond anything most at the factory could recall.

It was rough, but it doesn't happen all the time. In fact, usually nothing at all happens. The workers drone on, marvelous specimens of productivity. And I have come to the revelation that if this is the backbone of our country, then I'd rather be an invertebrate. You see, in the past week I've gotten some nasty shocks.

From one woman: "I've been here 30 years, and they didn't even come to me at all for relocation."
From an operator: "They lose a lot of money shutting down that line for an hour.. I mean, when you get $10 a case and you put out 50 cases an hour and you're only paying the packer $8 an hour..."
From a brand new hire: "I'm trying, but they say I need to pick up the pace..."

First, that really upsets me that anyone would do this type of work for 30 years without promotion, or that they would continue to do it. Last year when I worked for Snyder's I came across a similar incident. After 25 years of continuous employment, a woman came into the breakroom holding a certificate of appreciation... no bonus, no raise, no promotion. A piece of paper printed off from stock in 10 seconds and quickly signed by a guy in corporate who had never heard of her before, nor cared who she was. And worst of all, she was actually proud of it. Have I been raised broken? Is it wrong of me to expect more than this when I'm 45 and barely paying my bills because I've been a loyal employee for 25 years?
And that leads me to the second point. Packing is hard. Twelve hours standing at one table making the same movements hundreds of times an hour. One would expect it to be worth one's while. When I was hired, I received $11.59 an hour. Wow, I thought, I only made 10.50 at Snyder's, and that was a smaller wage than the regular packers, since I was a temporary employee, and at Snyder's there was a rotation, so you packed something different every hour. Certainly I thought that if I was making 11.50 here, the regular packers must be making plenty more than that. I was wrong. $8? That is an absolutely ridiculous amount of money for this type of work, for these hours, and in these conditions. What concerns me more is that I was hired as a temporary intern and I make more an hour than someone who has been doing the same job I do for 30 years. I got a title. Manufacturing Intern in Plastic Extrusion Technology. Sounds fancy? It should, it cost a lot.
Third, there is something that I just realized. My father works in a manufacturing plant, working with lumber and prefab buildings. True, he's been promoted in his 15 years there, but he still works on the floor, doing what I do now... doing what I can't imagine doing 15 years from now. I never realized this part of his life. And now I know that his life sucks and somehow he never let us know. He just leaves his cares at work, comes home exhausted but picks up his life where he left off. That man has taught me a lot.

Gather a chair, take a sit down, and perk your ears. I'm gonna tell you about how it was, back then.

Fred grew up in a family of four boys in a suburb of Baltimore. His family never had much, and he never was told that he could be anything he wanted to be. On the contrary, he dropped 8th grade because his family depended on his paycheck. He worked with his hands, making things, fixing things, learning how they worked. He would find crystals by the railroad tracks and fashion radios out of them with some wire and headphones. He worked hard, because he had to. He didn't quit on himself.

Barb came from a family a little better off. She spent her days with her family in a clean neighborhood miles away from the city. Her childhood was spent with good times and family. She learned charity and love from her mother, and values and morals from her father. She was a lucky girl who got through high school, made many life-long friends, and learned to type.

The two met, and married, and the Korean War started drafting young men into service. Fred's number came up, and he shipped off to basic. He gained a reputation quickly, and moved up through the ranks. He was a strong, confident leader, who earned the trust of his men and the favor of his superiors. When he shipped out, he was placed into an engineering division. He stayed there for nearly an entire tour of duty, when he suddenly fell into a catatonic state for unclear reasons. He was airlifted out, treated until he came around, and was sent home. All the while, Barb wrote letters and kept up hope. She was faithful, and he was brave.

The two settled down and started a family. First two boys, then a little girl, and finally another boy came along. They raised them in the style of their parents, a fifties ideology in a seventies world. They were taught the same values: to do your best, no matter who's watching; to stick to your values because they are all you've got; give respect first, earn it second; a man's word is his most valuable possession, don't abuse it; life isn't fair, but it's more fair when you work hard; judgment is a tool of the weak minded; etc....

Fred, a man with an 8th grade education, had nonetheless taught himself to learn. By the time he settled down, he was working for Westinghouse as a project manager for military missile defense systems. He owned a farm house and a few livestock way out in the country. He learned and taught EMT training, and volunteered for the local ambulance.

Barb was raising a family so close knit, it would take over 25 years for any of her children to move more than 10 miles away. Regular gatherings, lots of grandchildren, holiday traditions, and frequent contact have passed her family values down. She cooks, she cleans, she organizes, she volunteers. She will never get old, even to the day she dies.

Last month these two celebrated their 50th anniversary, and I was there. I was there because these two are my grandparents. They are my inspiration, and it is my most prominent goal to make them proud. I do service because they have shown me its value. I work hard because that is what my grandfather taught me to do. I stay calm and focused because my grandfather taught me to lead by example. My grandmother made sure I understood other people, and that I had compassion.

When I go away, when I'm homesick, it's not for my parent's house. It's for sitting around the table at my grandparent's farm, chatting about family and friends, warm, full, and comfortable.

If you ever want to see me lose control, go ahead and threaten them. I don't mind prison so much.

Let me set the record straight, because I'm frank like that.

No, me and other certain hall member did not have relations. Not in the Bill Clinton sense, I mean not at all.
Yes, me and other certain hall member have come to terms with the fact that we will not start relations because our personalities are too different.

You see, certain hall member is very much a close person with the people she likes. It's definitely not a secret when she likes you. There's quite a bit of physical and emotional contact all of a sudden. And I won't pretend I didn't enjoy talking with her or enjoy the nice little window I got into her world. But I, however, need so much space it is ridiculous. Obviously something was not going to work out. So I told her so, and now it's cool.

Let me explain myself, as I think it's needed in order to justify my ramblings about others. There won't be many of these, but enough to warrent a heading change (check out the new letter).

The following from here on out has nothing to do with said hall member or her actions.

So when I say "I need space" I mean that I am very much an independent person. Not the butch feminist strong lesbian sort of independent, I mean real independent. I don't like it when I have to base my decisions around someone else. I don't like having to talk to someone everyday to say nothing at all just because "that's what you do" in a relationship. I don't like having to pretend that I like things that I couldn't care less about because I might get some action later. But especially, I don't like it when someone expects these things of me.

I love going to see people do the things they enjoy. I love talking with people for hours about nothing because I get to see them deep and close. I love trying new things and learning about them from people who really enjoy them. I like getting action later, but that's beside the point. But I don't like doing this all the time because someone expects it from me.

The point is, my ideal relationship involves someone who expects nothing from me, who doesn't need me, and who isn't offended by my take on life. I need a strong, independent person who can use me, and who I can use, and we can mutually benefit from each other's company. I don't need someone who pretends to be in love and thinks that love is a phone call every night around 9 and trips to the museum and hanging out in awkward silence with nothing to say but "I love you." I don't need someone who loses their identity and starts talking in terms of "us" and who changes their habits and patterns because I am now a part of their life, making me feel like some incurable virus that changes them slowly from the inside. I don't need someone who thinks that sex is something they should do because isn't that what you do in a serious relationship?

I'm making a call to all the girls out there. You do not need a man. He does not need you. A relationship is all about being together because you like it, not being together because you should. Communication is key, but communication can get stale if you don't have experiences on your own. And a serious relationship comes way after the sex.

I am not afraid to commit. I am not too selfish to care about anyone else. I am not typical.
I do not embarrass. I do not have reservations beyond being respectful. I do not care who you think I am.
I do not think a relationship is judged by proximity. I do not think a person must give up their life in order to connect with someone else's life. I do not think people understand themselves enough to realize what they really want.

I can make an emotional connection. I've done it before. I can be a good friend and a good listener. I can be the best advice you'll ever get. I can make things happen. I can make you happy. I can make you cry. I can share your life. I can get you off. I can be there for you whenever you need me to catch you. I am always on call. I can make the bad men go away. I can be the bad man. I can make your life complete without making it my own.

I can't tolerate people who try to change me.

Get it yet?

I just don't understand it.
That's what bothers me the most, I don't understand. I spend a lot of my time studying people and the way they interact, and I always try to put myself in other people's heads, to see where they are coming from and what they are thinking. Such things interest me, but it's annoyingly aggravating when I can't seem to "get" certain people.

What is your Purpose? It is my belief that there is no one purpose to life. I don't believe in Fate, in the traditional sense (I do believe that things are predestined, but in an 'atoms set in already motion' type of way), and I don't believe that, if there is a higher power, that IT has a design or end goal for our lives.

But I do believe that Man, as a thinking entity, has the ability to create his own Purpose. What is yours? It isn't "to get a good job." It can't be "to climb mountains." "To raise a good family" is also not a Purpose. These are all goals. A goal is not a Purpose.

I know, I know. What's the difference? A goal is a means to an end; a way from point A to point B. Your Purpose is a driving force, that has no conceivable end. It exists not as a path, but as a vehicle. Sure, it's symantic gibberish, but think on the implication.

It's complicated, but it's important. The most unhappy people I know are people who don't have a Purpose. These people are floaters... they accomplish tasks, set goals and achieve them, maybe they are even productive to society. But they still don't feel like they belong. They are in this big mess called life without actually feeling like they are involved with the world. They stare out their window, at the tree in the yard. Why is the tree there? What is a tree? That tree is foreign to me, it is not me, I don't feel a part of it. Repeat this with all objects, including creatures, material goods, and even their own person- body and spirit.

A Purpose unifies you. No, it doesn't make you feel like you belong. I look in the mirror and am amazed to find a complete stranger staring back at me every morning. I can't remember who I am. I have to rebuild my perception of myself everyday. But my Purpose allows me to say "You belong here. You will be a new person today." This is why I wear the Phoenix. It reminds me that we are born anew all the time, older and wiser, but we are the same entity with the same Purpose.

A Purpose unifies you. By realizing others have their Purpose too, you can finally identify with them.

The best part is that you can't fail. So think about it. Don't think about the things you want accomplish in your life. Those things aren't important, just mechanical movements of a body you don't even know.

Think about something that makes you feel like stepping from the ashes, and ready to face the fire.

As anticipated, here is the second half of the post.

The Leader
A leader is usually that outgoing person that everyone either really likes or really hates. Society has this stigma against being called a Follower, but in truth many Followers are more fun to be around or more personal than Leaders. Leaders are, as the name suggests, the people who take charge of a situation. They make sure things get done somehow, and generally lead a high stress, low release lifestyle. A Leader has a haphazard notetaking style, either just writing down the main highlights or not taking notes at all. There is a large variety of Leader and, surprisingly for some, most people fall into this catagory, at least generically. Not all Leaders are Leaders at all times, though.
Sub-catagories:

Control Freak
This person is someone we all know and tend to hate. They take on every task, and refuse to delegate responsibility. Is it because they don't trust anyone else to do it right? Maybe, but usually it has to do with wanting to take as much credit as possible. This person is an attention whore, who takes on large projects in order to be recognized. They are often either good-looking, insecure, and shallow, but smart, or an eager overachiever who never had too many friends and instead relies on recognition for affirmation of purpose. Harsh, I know, but true. Control Freaks tend to go through friends very quickly, never really forming a link because there is often a lack of trust. They bounce from project to project, take on more than they can handle, but manage to get everything done because this is pretty much what they live for. These people do take notes in class, but not every word. Still, they tend to only write stuff from the board.

Sniper
What the Control Freak is to the Westy, the Sniper is to the Relaxer. The Sniper has many of the same ideals as the CF, but they are quieter, slower, and more likeable. They get their recognition from the people they work with, instead of people outside of a project or workgroup. Therefore, they tend to build a lot of power from within, seeming to come out of nowhere and snipe away control. This is how they get their name. The CF is in charge, but the Sniper holds the group's opinion in his hands. The Sniper can be cold and calculating, or just quiet and charismatic, but they are just as eager to please as the CF. The Sniper is a person who will lead a think-tank or class discussion because he often knows more about the subject than the CF, who is usually stretched pretty thin. The CF, of course, will interject as much as possible, but the Sniper knows how to work around him. These types of Leaders tend to take the introspective notes, only writing down new concepts or interesting questions posed by the prof.

Snoozer
This is a pretty easy to describe person. They are the people in class who come in late all the time, sit in the back, and then go to sleep, but still manage to know what's going on and can ace the class. They can be arrogant and annoying, but often are just perceived that way because everyone else has to work and pay attention. What you don't see is the large amount of time the Snoozer puts into learning all of the stuff beforehand in order to pretend he's known it forever and can sleep through class. Yes, that's right, an eager-pleaser (see a pattern?), but a much less in your face one. The Snoozer tends to be unreliable but has a wide range of experience. They aren't afraid to try new things since they are pretty confident in themselves. They also make friends pretty easily and keep certain ones for a long time. Sometimes reluctant to take charge, they certainly aren't afraid to, and do a pretty good job at managing things until a Sniper comes out. This person, of course, takes no notes that you can see, and often shows up to class with no books, paper, or even a pen.

Come-What-May
This person is also reluctant to take charge most of the time. They are agreeable, nice, and often just want to be let alone, but an overpowering sense of conscience doesn't allow them any rest. Realizing the doom many projects are headed towards, the Come-What-May will take charge to set things right, but then do their best to back off. They don't want control, much different than the rest of the Leaders, but tend to end up with it because they are competent and others know it. Often looked up to, even more so than a Sniper, because of their ability to handle any situation. A Come-What-May is a Leader that can keep cool and adapt in any situation, effectively delegating tasks and micromanaging. Often people come to the Come-What-May with problems because they always seem to know the answer. The only thing that ruffles a CWM is an unfocused, poorly led group, which he feels obligated to lead. They are often very laid back, seemingly unstressed, and put out a Relaxer vibe that often causes them to be overlooked. Notes? Sure, sometimes. Depends on just how relaxed they are that day.

For those of you who might be confused, this is SKelch.

I had a nice chat yesterday with Marta about the people here at MIT. Among other things, I came up with a quick classification of people that I see. This is nothing original, it's pretty well known, but I wanted to put it into a definition. I've also come up with some subcatagories. Here we go:

The Follower
This is your generic Millenial. These people have difficulty thinking in a progressive manner. They have all their ducks in a row, and are not accepting any more ducks at this time, thank you. These people can be very intelligent, very enthusiastic, very useful, but lack the skills to get things done on their own. They are absolutely lost without someone telling them what to do. You can recognize a Follower by their note-taking habits. These people have notebooks that are literal carbon-copies of the blackboard. Notice that they don't take notes from what the prof says. They don't try to make their own connections. They don't write down only what's important or internalize fundamental rules. These are the people in high school who got the best grades because they memorized their notes. They had trouble in English analyzing literature, until they found out they could memorize Cliff's Notes.
Sub-catagories:
The Nodder - This person sits in lecture writing down everything as long as it was first written in chalk. The Word of God would need to be chiseled into stone before their eyes before they would take note of what was said. When the prof says something they've heard of before, they nod their head as if to confirm that the prof is right. They want people to know that they knew this already, and can confirm that the prof does in fact know what he's talking about. But they still write it down if it's on the board. This person is enthusiastic, but needs to be directed where to put that enthusiasm. Also can be identified by the quick, nervous laugh they give after everything they say. God, these people are so desperate for approval.
The Mute - This person has never spoken up in class, has never been seen outside of class, and is barely even noticed in class at all. They sit and take notes, too shy to mention that the prof has made a mistake on the board (they write down the mistake anyway, since it was on the board). Outside of class this person has a friend or two. If they are in a group of 3 or more, the Mute won't utter a word. Can be very talkative when alone with one close friend, or their overbearing mother. These people are the most likely of a Follower to have an original idea, but are almost exclusively too shy to make it heard.
The Westy - This person tries desperately to be a Leader, and thinks that they are a Leader, but always seem to fall short. They have a tendency to get in over their head, and then become belligerent or depressed when they come up short. These people get very excited about ideas that have already been tried, and usually add an unoriginal twist to make them seem unique. ("Hey guys, let's throw a party Saturday. We can make it a beach theme! And we will have a pool inside!") This idea inevitably fails because the Westy lacks micromanaging skills. This person takes notes like other Followers, but with the bonus that they also actually listen to what the prof says. Usually this is so that they can find something to argue with him about. The trick to a Westy is that they are often outgoing, surrounded by friends, and in the 'popular' crowd. They can be the leader of their pack, but rarely lapse into being an actual Leader. How does this happen? A Westy tends to be good looking, privileged, or surrounded by Mutes and Nodders. Two Westies who become friends are entertaining to observe. Watch as both vie for control of a situation, while still trying to appear best friends with the other. Neither are capable of handling the situation in the first place. Hours of fun.
The Relaxer - This person could easily be a Leader, but finds it more agreable to just Follow. Sometimes they have a lapse, and briefly take charge when things get out of hand. A Relaxer can usually be found in a Westy's posse, where he is actually the one who calls the shots. Everyone in the group looks up to him, but he defers to the Westy, so the Westy is the one "in charge." The Relaxer is the one who keeps the Westy in line, actually does the micromanaging, and controls the group, and everyone knows it (and it drives the Westy nuts). The Relaxer takes the least notes during class, but still manages to get them all from his other Follower buddies. This is not to be confused with a Come-What-May.




There's a few. The Leaders will come some other time. When I refer to people in my LiveJournal, I may make reference to these catagories. Obviously they are not all encompassing and are general guidelines. You can have mixes, or even unique types. Most difficult are people on the fringe, like Relaxers, who may cross back and forth.

So here's the deal. You all know how I feel about LiveJournal. While it's not quite the evil I claim it to be (it's more fun just to argue the point), I still have an unsettling feeling about it. Here's where things get tricky. LiveJournal has been thought of as a place to put your personal thoughts, feelings, etc. Well, I'm doing it my way. Instead of what's going on with me, I'm going to use my account to talk about my observations of other people. That's right. If you want to know what's going on with me at the moment, read my away message.

Today I did the unthinkable. You're reading it.