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Van's Journal: Year 1 |
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proceeding! This journal is written in reverse-chronological order, and divided into years. You may want to start at the bottom and work your way up if this is your first time. |
1999-Oct-15 | 1999-Oct-10 | 1999-Oct-08 | 1999-Sep-05 | 1999-Aug-16 | 1999-Aug-14 | 1999-Jul-31 | 1999-Jul-30 | 1999-Jun-29 | 1999-Jun-22 | 1999-Apr-11 | 1999-Mar-02 | 1999-Feb-24 | 1999-Feb-24 | 1999-Jan-31 | 1999-Jan-30 | 1999-Jan-30 | 1999-Jan-25 | 1999-Jan-17 | 1999-Jan-12 | 1999-Jan-08 | 1999-Jan-06 | 1999-Jan-02 | 1998-Dec-30 | 1998-Dec-28 | 1998-Dec-17
October 15, 1999 : My life is unfulfilling. Classes classes classes... I hate classes. They just don't seem adequate... they don't test your knowledge, they just test how well you can memorize a particular book author's vocabulary. So much of what we learn in business school is common sense, and stuff we've known since elementary school. But you spend day after day learning the vocabulary... learning the author's spin on it.... such a waste to devote so many minds, so much potential. Learn learn learn.... remember... keep your GPA up..... but don't forget to be creative, because that's what employers want. While your nose is in books and you're taking notes in class, always remember to be an individual and to demonstrate your potential. Today I missed class... and for that I would usually feel guilty. But I refuse... I will not. This is it.... this is the turning point I think When we're supposed to lose our innocence and assimilate into the adult world. But I refuse. All my life I've heard how I'll lose it... how everyone gives up. Not me. I refuse. And for those who pride themselves on not being naive, let me tell you this.... you have never understood evil. You have never been brave enough or taken the time to face it. OK, nevermind.... that was harsh. I don't know why you are the way you are. But the fact remains that I refuse. This is a mervelous world.... and I will not let go of that. I will take it to my grave. And I am not so weak that I need to reject that and then brag that I'm experienced and that I know about the real world.
October 10, 1999 : My life has got to change.... must change..... must change. I've felt like such a horrible person lately. I hurt someone tonight. And I don't know what I did to hurt them. But they wouldn't talk to me... just left me with the knowledge that I hurt them. I don't know how to handle this... I'm not equipped. I don't know what to do. I can't wait for the drugs to take me away (Tylenol PM, not hard stuff). So helpess... so weak.... I'm terrified. I'm angry. I try so hard... to live a good life.... and then I screw something like this up. And it all comes crashing down. It all becomes worthless. No matter what I usually am, no matter what I've accomplished... at this moment right now, I am evil. I am not worthy of life. Maybe tomorrow I will redeem myself. Or maybe I'll die in my sleep and go straight to hell. I did the dishes. Finally. Maybe tomorrow I'll fold laundry.
October 8, 1999 : Tonight I ate ice cream with chopsticks. And that was the highlight of my day. A lot's happened since my last journal entry. I made a bad exam grade and a good exam grade. An uncle died. A server went down. Someone very close to me got a new job she's very proud of and deserves... and someone else got connected to the Internet from her dorm room (and I got to be the first person on her ICQ list). I went through one day where I was very happy, the first semi-cool day of the season. I went through another day where I was so depressed, I deprived myself of food and drink. I learned some Chinese words, and I learned some East Indian pronunciations. I danced in New Orleans until 3:00 AM on a friend's 21st birthday. I talked to one person considering suicide, one person who thought she was pregnant, and on person who is trying to escape an abusive household. I read an issue of Maxim with my junior high crush Melissa Joan Hart on the cover. As I consider all of the culture I experience in a given month, I can't help but be thankful for what little ethnicity existed in my household when I was growing up. With a full-blooded Lebanese mom and stepdad, and the influence of somewhat traditional Lebanese grandparents, I got to experience a lot more "culture" than most people in my area. Granted, that isn't saying much.... but I do think that was a major contributing factor to my outlook on life. For that, I will be forever thankful.
I was recently browsing the web goddess webring and couldn't help but notice that all the sites looked alike. They all seem to be done by graphic design artists who take a minimalistic approach in cumbersome but pretty styles. And then I take a look at my own web page. Comparatively, it is verbose and cluttered. Where they use frontpage, I use Netscape Composer. I refuse to use anything more complex. It would only encourage me to focus on design instead of content. This is not to say the people who inhabit the web goddess ring don't have adequate content, of course. But I just think it's interesting.... the sites there are places I like to visit because they're pretty, but I wouldn't want to go back.
I still love ArsDigita. If I were a database programmer, I would make it my life's ambition to work there. But alas, I am merely an IS person. True IS people are a strange breed. They don't really seem complex, but to be good at IS, you have to be a really diverse person. You have to understand people, business, culture, and telecommunications. Not to mention have some programming skills. But if you talk to the standard IS person, they really don't seem very remarkable. I wonder why that is. As I was walking through campus a few days ago, I came to wonder why I had chosen this path of IS instead of something else. I passed the Computer Science department, and decided I didn't take that path because I couldn't handle the math. Although, I do love to program, especially when I'm in the zone and I can see a program laid out before me as I type the first line of code. I ate lunch in Sculpture Park by the College of Design, and decided I didn't take that path because I didn't have artistic talent in that area. Although I can't help but tinker with large sketch pads and clay, and sometimes even with Photoshop. Finally, I got to my home on campus; CEBA. The largest classroom building on campus, it holds both the colleges of Business and Engineering. I walked in and was hit by a rush of cool air as the door's close echoed through the halls. And I stood there, in one of the four main entrances, and looked around... I saw the brass plaques of endowed chairs, and the huge stair wells that carry thousands upon thousands of students in and out each day. I asked myself... am I happy here? What did I give up to be here, in a building filled half with suits and half with pocket protectors. As I began my trek up the stairs to my third floor office, I considered what I gave up to be there. And what I gained. Truth be told, I still think it was the best choice. But I can't help but wonder.... I have so many interests, so many wants, so many senses.... and they're not fulfilled here. But I am coming to terms with the fact that no one place can fulfill them all. I probably wouldn't be human if one place could. As System Administrator of the IS department, I could get away with stealing an old computer from somewhere else in the department and bringing it to my desk to program on in my spare time.... but a potter's wheel next to my Pentium might raise a few eyebrows. Leisure classes anyone?
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I still hate microsoft. I still love IBM. Nothing else to say.
September 5, 1999 : Today I bought 53 pure white candles. I lit ten of them in my bathroom, which is small enough to be illuminated by a single match. I like having my own place..... you can do crap like that. I needed cleansing. While the shower water beat down on my skin, I swam in a flood of white light. I need more.... next shower I will try 20.... then 30.... and so on.... then I'll have to buy more candles. If I don't die from asphyxiation in a smoky bathroom. I need to hide in the candle light for a while. I feel injured..... vulnerable.
I wonder what ever happened to the days when I truly worried if I would survive. Today's concerns seem so pale in comparison to what I went through before. And when I look at someone else who is going through the some of the rarer struggles I went through, I can't believe I was ever in that position. When I speak of troubles now, it seems more like I'm speaking of the stock market dropping some points. So many battles conquered.... so many times saved by unforseen forces, so many times saved by friends, so many times saved by fear, and so many times saved by strength. I nearly committed suicide by the time I was ten years old. Nobody wants to listen to a child's troubles.... they're allegedly insignificant. And damned be the child that doesn't fall in the mold of what a normal child should be. Don't consider its emotions, just change them. Give it a lolly pop or send it to therapy or something. Ever since I was extremely young, maybe 5 or 6, I started making mental notes of things I should remember never to do as maturity corrupted me. And when I hold on to those most ancient rules so tightly, and people don't unserstand why I can't break them, I don't know how to explain that I'm protecting someone. Someone who was very fragile, and knew defenses were unfitting for such noble creatures as a humans. Someone who died because of his wisdom. Someone who is now ashamed for protecting himself... someone who feels dirty and inferior to that child. And someone dedicated to never driving anyone else to the same extremes.
August 16, 1999 : "Wow!" That's what one astronomer wrote when he saw a signal from outer space that could be a sign of intelligent life. He wrote it right there next to the reading on a printout. And the signal he got was about as telling as the one I recently did. I received a message in a language that I no longer use, but I still know well. It was garbled and fragmented... maybe a different dialect... maybe from a distressed source.... but it was there. I could not fully understand it. I do not know if it was meant to be written in this language. And if it was, I do not know if it was intended for me. But I do know I received it on a very instinctive, hard-coded level. If it was never intended for me to receive, you will never know how to respond to this. It is protocol. A protocol that you should understand if you sent a message to me. If you did send the message, please send confirmation.
August 14, 1999 : OK. I've been getting ready for this moment for almost two weeks. I've been telling myself I'm going to do it. Now it's time. For me to grow further, I have to do this. It's not the responsibility of the other people in my life to keep doing it for me. It's mine. OK... I can do this. I'm shaking. My heart is racing. I'm scared. This is hard. My hands are shaking.... my hands never shake. I'm usually so steady. So controlled. So directed. Is it getting cold in here? What the hell? I'm never cold. OK... I can do this. I'm Van, remember? I can do this. Here it goes. Any second now. I can do it. I've been putting this off for too long. For years. For as long as I can remember. It's time. I feel so weak. Why am I nautious? My hands are so cold.... they want to freeze up. Stop typing. But I can't let them... I have to do this. Damn these defenses! I have to do this. I have to break this mold. I'm scared. I'm facing the most intimidating entity I know. Somebody help me... please.... NO! This is for me to do. I have to do it alone. And I have to do it here... for all the world to see. Deep breaths. Pause. Stop. Deep breath. Here it goes..................
I am not too pale. And my hair isn't ugly. I do good things for people. The world is better because I'm in it. Maybe one or two people even admire me. I am strong. I have a good sense of humor. Some people respect me. I have friends. My nose isn't too big. I'm not too short. No turning back now. No turning back. Of all the vices one could have, drinking too much Coke is one of the less evil ones. I... am... passionate. I... am... sensual. I always have been. I am a good lover. I absorb culture like a sponge. If someone refutes any of this, I am strong enough to take it. I am. Really, I am. I like the size of my cock. I'm not worthless. I'm not gross. People do not want to vomit at the sight of my shirtless body. I'm smart... even if I can't do calculus. I'm clean.... I'm clean. I don't need another shower right now, I'm clean. All the significantly older friends I've had in my life liked me because I am a good person--not because they were dysfunctional. I am.... I am.... I am worthy..... I am worthy of..... I am worthy of.... I am worthy of love. Of all the people I have known, of all the souls I have encountered, for as along as I can remember, I never stopped giving love. Never. I have acted cold towards people... I have acted loving towards people... but I never stopped loving them. Never. NEVER. Not just anyone can say that. I don't let my nails grow too long before cutting them. I like their length just fine, and that's all that matters. Catharsis. Wait. That's all for now... all for now. I did good. Must go hide now... in a dark corner.
July 31, 1999 : The past year in my life has been about independence. Independence from my family.... but more importantly, independence from my culture. And I feel alone. Just a little bit more alone than I felt before. What's wrong with me? I have so many wonderful people in my life. I have more good relationships now than lots of people have in a lifetime. What's my problem? Why do I feel alone? As wonderful as these people are... and as much as I love them... they don't touch my core. I want them to.... I'm not trying to stop them anymore.... but they don't touch it. And now I'm beginning to think that they can't. I feel like there's an essence about me nobody else grasps..... because it's so different. So out of any "normal" mental constructs. And nobody's to blame.... I have to accept that it's not my fault. It's just the way things are. And sometimes I dream of finding someone like me.... finding someone and being able to say in awe, "You're one of us." Finding someone and being able to use the energy they send back to me. Finding someone who takes all the energy I send to them. Sometimes I have this vision... I'm drawn into this radiant light that engulfs me... but when I look down, I see I'm light, too. I'm surrounded by entities like me.... I'm finally home.... after all of this searching, I finally found home. And I want to cry from happiness, but I don't.... I don't cry because the energy that I would use to cry is instead absorbed by the others. And they understand... they understand my search, they understand happiness. And we all understand how we can love the world we left behind, but know that where we are is home. And finally, I don't have to be scared of forgiving people, or loving people..... no matter what any of us has done, we always forgive.... and we always love..... and we always support each other. We always forgive, love, support anyone... they don't have to be one of us. And if someone from the outside has something to say about it, I don't care..... because I always know I'll have a home to go to.
When I first left to go to college, I said to myself that I was home. This is where I finally belonged. But I was wrong.... that was short-sighted. I'm not home. I've never been home. I don't know where or what home is. Sometimes I find comfort in places.... or in other people. But I don't think it's the same thing. Is it? Will I ever find one of us? Have I already found one of us and I just don't know it?
July 30, 1999 : There's someting different about me. Duh, huh? And it's the red. The red on this site. It's the energy.... the undying force somewhere deep down inside that I can't explain. The thing that seems so infinite. The thing that I can't even believe is a part of me... or is it? For my whole life, I've been trying to direct the energy. I've been trying to give it secifically to people, in a quaint little contrived format. But I can't do that anymore... it's too much. And I feel like I'm burning up inside because I can't push it out fast enough. Whatever this is, I can't direct it like a laser. I have to radiate it like a star. I have to give it for everyone to see without condition, without regard for how they may use it. It's too much to withhold from anyone. This is what I have to do. But how? I am an entity that's spent its entire life streaming energy to specific people. How do I do something so antithetical to my whole design? And more importantly, how do I keep from hurting people with it? I have to do something. I want to scream it out... I want to run until it leaves me.... but I know that won't work. As soon as the last echo of my scream is heard, the heat would be back. As soon as I catch my breath, I will notice the fusion in my heart.
June 29, 1999 : Ahhh, Dracula. What is so intriguing about vampires? I think it's because they're so close to humans, yet have one foot in the supernatural. Unlike a werewolf which is just a big, dumb beast, vampires have a very refined, very human quality. They're intelligent.... clean.... sometimes charming. Yet, they represent pure evil. They don't just grunt and howl.... they speak in very articulate sentences. They represent something to which you must surrender. When a vampire bites you, you become his--you belong to him. And what makes him truly scary is, deep down, you're not so sure that would be such a bad thing. Some part of you wants him to control you.... some part of you gets aroused with the vampire's pure sexual energy.... and some part of you wants the vampire to skillfully wield that power in you like he does his own.
Imagine it for a few seconds.... the vampire staring over you, with this garments of black, red, and white. You stare at the medallion hanging from his neck, which seems to glow against the red and black behind it. His body is slender and bony, but somehow, it still looks and feels strong. You look up at the white skin on his face which looks even paler against his pitch black hair. Suddenly, you catch a glimpse of his deep, dark eyes that you can't stop from piercing you..... or is it that you don't want them to stop? You know you're nothing special to him.... you're just another piece of meat like the many he's taken before over countless passed years. Finally, he moves in for the kill. You feel his sharp incisors dig into your flesh. You're gone.
It's almost dawn. I always get tired around dawn. Sweet dreams.
June 22, 1999 : OK, so it's been a while. I've been busy. It's time for a status report on my psyche. And not one of these new mushy ones... the old kind that I never even wrote down, much less made public. Hold on, let me go change a load of clothes, and I'll be right back.... [break] OK, that's better. Now...
Section I: Period Summary
"Downsizing" best describes the trend in my mind over the last six months. Not because we considered it a better way, but because it was absolutely essential for this institution to survive. And the unlikely primary catalyst? Business Calculus. For the first time in history, acadamia majorly altered this institution's course of advancement. First, the sheer mental power used in trying to cope with such foreign concepts drew enormous amouts of resources. But even worse was the stress management. Usually, the Stress Valve Mechanism (SVM) copes with too much stress by judging when continuing a project will cause too much stress for me to adequately contribute to the project, and then withdraw most or all resources from the project when that point is reached. Then, when I adjust with a different approach, it sends resources back. But in this case, it was a no-win situation: If I withdrew resources, I would likely fail. If I tried harder, I was likely to burn out and fail. So secondary stress management routines (which were seldom needed in the past) were working overtime. What little R&D budget remained went to getting more resources to stress management. In the process of making room for tis emergency, among a few other less severe stress enducers, several projects were cut off. This status report outlines the deaths, as well as the new beginnings.
OK, that's about all of a mental report I can stand typing for now. My laundry is done. My apartment is nice and cold. It's time for bed.
April 11, 1999 : My life is going through some seriously rapid changes right now, and I think it's for the better. Granted, I go through a quick expansion phase every few years, but this is absolutely ridiculous. Basically since my last journal entry, I've gotten a job, formed relationships (non-exclusive), moved into an apartment, and have gotten news that next year, I may actually be teaching a high school class. Trying to balance this sudden spurt of changes is kind of tough. But I'll manage.
What to do? I dunno. I don't have anything monumental to
say today. I've been so busy, I haven't had time to say much here at
all. I need a vacation. :-)
I''m sure that once I have
time to reflect on all this stuff, I'll have lots of deep and insightful stuff
to say. But until then, I'm just boring. Sorry, journal.
Oh, this is cool! A long-ago friend of mine from high school called my house back in Natchez earlier to ask about how I was doing. My mom gave her my new contact info, so hopefully I'll hear from her soon. It would be great to talk to her.
I think that's about it.
March 2, 1999 : Entitled, "A Slab of Meat"
OK, so you see,
I'm going through this yearly depression. It happens every year at the
end of winter, when I come to terms once again with how separate I am from
people. Of course, this is counteracted by the beginning of every winter,
when I get so happy because I realize how truly amazing those separated people
really are. This year, however, I am dedicating myself to finding a
bridge between the two. I'm about to go through writing relational
information that I've considered "classified" ever since I came up with it when
I was about 14 or 15. I considered it classified because it seemed way
too "out there" for anyone else to even think about accepting. My peers
would have given it strange looks or laughs, and the adult peoples would never
have tried to understand. But, given my relatively new policy of moving
all of these philosophies into public domain without considering the
consequences, it's time.
What's the difference between experiencing a really good symphony, and experiencing a person? A slab of meat. And the difference between realizing an elegant computer program and witnessing a snowflake? Nothing but 104 keys. I refer to the difference in these two examples "liquid state" and "solid state", for obvious reasons. It has long been one of my many "holy grails" of development to figure out how to apply people to a solid state, too. However, they seem to have too many factors for me to handle all at once. But no matter, liquid states are more fun to work with anyway. They're much prettier. So what do I mean by all this? Hmm... if you're not quick enough to realize it already, then you'll just have to wait until I'm inspired to describe it. Neeeeeeeext!
February 24, 1999 : So it's my second journal entry of the day. I have more to say. Depression. Why do I do this to myself? I have an Accounting exam Thursday that I really need to study for, but I can't concentrate right now. It's 3:50 Wednesday morning. It hurts. The depression I mean, not the accounting exam. But I bet the latter will end up hurting if I keep going at this rate. I could really use someone to talk to right now. I guess it's my own fault that I can't. So I sit here, almost no clothes on, typing by the light of the computer screen in a cold little room with the fan on. My eyes are red, but I'm not sure if it's from lack of sleep or wanting to cry. This is pathetic. I just want to go to sleep. Or at least eat. But I don't have any food. At least I still have an appetite.... be thankful for small miracles. I can't afford to lose too much weight, or my 135-pound self could disappear into nothing. I have a feeling that getting up for class will not be very easy. But my bed is barren, and just as barren with me in it. And this isn't really making me feel any better, so perhaps I should just stop.
February 24, 1999 : It's been almost a month since my last
entry. Oh well. So what am I going to do about my life and
relationships and sex and stuff? I'm not real sure. I think I have
given up on having a good relationship with someone, and have settled for a
secondary option. My secondary option is to make lots of money after
college and start dating a cute, young, single waitress who has given up on
finding a good guy. That way I can at least get physical needs
satssfied. The only problem with that is I'll have to be on my toes not
to be too sweet, because then one of two things happens: (1) You become a
good partner, so she leaves you, or (2) You become a good partner so she pushes
you into marriage. I know option 1 already. I can probably weasle
out of option 2, but women can be pretty manipulative.... before you know it,
she's decided that she "forgot" to continue taking the pill, and here comes
baby Van on the way, and I'm stuck. And that's all assuming that it even
lasts long enough to get to the sex-without-STD-protection stage. This
secondary option pretty much assumes this wouldn't be a girl I could have a
"meaningful" relationship with, so I sure don't want to marry her. Then
what happens is, in her biological weakness, she's forced us into a bad
marriage which poorly raises a child who suffers for the mistake. Perhaps
I'm jumping too far ahead. But anyhoot... it seems that whenever I come
across someone where a real relationship would work, there's always some
star-crossing factor that gets in the way. So, I think I'll have to
settle for my secondary option. And my ideal secondary
option is to find someone who has given up on a real relationship, and will
just let me be the guy to rub her back and hold her at night when she's come
back from her long day of jerk guys hitting on her and giving her lousy
tips. All I can do at that point is pray her faith in men won't reawaken,
so I'll have to pretend to be macho every so often and piss her off. I
wish I could do that beer-can-crushing trick. Hell, I can't even belch on
accident... how do I expect to pull this off? I won't have a problem
getting my emotional needs satisfied elsewhere. Establishing deep
friendships doesn't seem to be a problem for me. It's just a shame I
won't be able to have the all-in-one package. Man, this sucks. I
hope I'm good in bed for her.... girls like that just tend to have such narrow
sexual tastes, though... sometimes you have to walk on eggshells when trying
new things. Then again, if she's given up on guys, she may me happy with
someone who thinks sex should last more than 20 minutes, so that shouldn't be
too difficult. I don't think I have ever had sex for that short of
a time. But what if she's a size queen? Granted, I don't have
anything to be ashamed of, but let's face it, I'm no John Holmes.
If she's a size queen, though, she's probably too boring to keep my interests
anyway, and I'll break us up if she doesn't first. I coudn't stand
someone that shallow even if the relationship was based only on sex. But
let's face it again, who would base a relationship only on sex with me?
Granted, I have a nice understanding of female sexuality, but I don't have near
a model's body. And who knows what I'll look like by then? I may be
fat and bald.
Oh, and by the way, I found out today that I got a
really good job on campus that should look excellent on my resume.
Hooray. One more step on my road to make money so I can carry out Plan
B.
January 31, 1999 : Yesterday I found out that I like my peppermints
better crushed. If you throw them against the door, they shatter into a
powder, but maintain their shape inside the wrapper. Then, when you put
it in your mouth, it just liquifies and tastes like something more akin to
peppermint schnapps.
I've been studying for a psychology exam.
But actually, just now, I was watching "She's Having a Baby" on Comedy
Central. I don't understand what the big deal about fertility is. I
mean, I've never had the need to be fertility tested (thank God), but I think
that if I found out I had a low sperm count or something, it wouldn't really
bother me. Granted, if I was trying to have a baby (that's a LONG way
off), it would bother me that I couldn't.... but I wouldn't feel any less
masculine. At least, I don't THINK I would. I mean, come on... it's
only a body.
January 30, 1999 : Yeah, I know, it's the same day as the last
journal entry. So shoot me. It's very rare that I face a problem I
have no idea how to deal with. And this is one of them. I don't
even know how to begin describing it, but let me try. A long time ago, I
started building defenses to cope with the world, like most people do. I
used to rely on other peoples' weaknesses to protect me rather than building my
own offense. See, I didn't have to worry about most people, because I
always seemed to function below their radar.... I could slip in, get whatever
information I wanted, and then leave, with nobody ever realizing what
happened. And I could do that primarily because people always dismissed
me.... experience had taught people someone in my position wasn't capable of
getting that information, and so their defenses were never activated. At
least, that's my theory. It seemed pretty proposterous to me that
everyone would leave such naively enormous holes in their defenses, but it was
the only explanation I could come up with. And I never developed an
offense... you know why? Because I didn't feel I needed one. I
considered an offense a sign of weakness--if you need to attack, then it means
you have a fallable defense. However, what would a person with an
infallable defense need with an offense? It would just be a waste of
energy. Of course, this doesn't necessarily mean I thought it was a truly
infallable defense--it was just that I had so much faith in it. And
luckily, I never needed an offense.
But what do I do about that
now? What happens when that defense breaks down your communication with
the outside world? What happens when you've grown to the point where
people stop dismissing you as naive, and start seeing you as a real
person? What then? The allegedly infallable defenses are engaged,
and the people you're with can't get through a defense that was designed when
you thought nobody would talk to you as a real person. I can't imagine,
from the outside world looking in, what it's like to deal with someone who has
such a strong defense which assumes you won't acknowledge me. And
now, I'm stuck... how to destroy it? I don't know where to begin.
It seems so enormous and complex that it's beyond my understanding.... but how
could it be? I consciously made it myself. And I know it sounds
strange, but it seems adaptive... every time I find a way to put a fracture in
this wall, it finds a way to fix it and, at the same time, become immune to
that type of attack again. It was supposed to work that way against other
people, not me.
Damnit, I don't understand the logic of it all... it
seems like this defense is the only thing giving me enough clarity of thought
to try to figure out how to stop it.
Maybe my problem is, I'm trying
to figure out how how to select people to let through, rather than tear down
the wall. Maybe a part of me is so afraid, that it doesn't want to bring
down the whole wall... just put doors in it. This wall was not designed
for doors. Just bullet-proof, one-way windows.
God, I feel so
broken. What's wrong with me? I mean, I'm so functional in so many
other aspects. I guess this is what the Pentium chips with the
floating-point calculation bug felt like. Such a tiny error that makes
you so useless. Who knows how to fix me? I don't... not now.
And frankly, it's probably not worth anyone else trying.
January 30, 1999 : I'm glad so few people get mad at me, because I get mad enough at myself to make up for everyone else.
January 25, 1999 : AHHHHHHHHHH! I really have to get to sleep
and I can't. It's 2:06 am. So much has been happening in my life
recently (compared to the typically dull and uneventful, anyway). It's
all still too abstract in my head for me to put into words yet. But I'll
probably write about it once I can. What's the deal with me and abstract
thoughts? Everything has always just been so cloudy and fast-moving,
trying to simplify it all down to English is really hard. They say that
over 99% of the power used by a calculator goes into displaying the numbers for
the user. I guess I'm the same way...... most people probably are.
But it's frustrating sometimes. Not nearly as bad as it used to be,
though. I could go into some horror stories about how much all that
thinking hurt when I was younger, but one should not use up their future by
dwelling on their past.
At least, that's what Joycelyn Elders' mom
used to always say. For those of you who don't know, she was President
Clinton's former Surgeon General, who got fired for saying it could be a good
idea to teach masturbation in school sex education classes. I've been
reading her autobiography. Typically, I'm against anything associated
with Clinton, but this woman intrigued me. Forget the fact that she was
fired for supporting the vast majority of my sex life. She was different
than typical Clintonites. She may have some views that I don't
particularly agree with, but she had real reasons behind them. She
wasn't interested in being surgeon general, she was interested in improving
health. And while she loses her job for trying to improve sex education
(at least I think it would be an improvement), Clinton stays in office.
Clinton broke a promise to his wife, lied to his employers, and had sex in our
office with another one of our employees. The only mistake Elders made
was misjudging the degree to which victorian society still plagues our
nation. And she was fired.
It takes stuff like this to remind
me how far our society still has to go. I'm someone who lost most all my
taboos a long time ago. They just seemed like such extra bulky baggage
that I had to get rid of them. Sometimes while I'm in the middle of
talking, I'll find people just staring at me strange, or maybe grinning, or
having one of those "Ohhhhhh myyyyyy goooooooood" looks. And then I
realize that where I'm speaking is one of those closed off little rooms that
you're not supposed to open in most minds. If I had to compare my
personality to a building, I would say it's a Cathedral.... it's like an
ancient, institutional fortress on the outside, but on the inside, it's just
one, big, open room. And everybody is in the same room... it doesn't
matter if you're sex, or if you're the PSYC 3081 class, or if you're the daily
to-do list. You all sit next to each other and talk to each other, and
slowly, everybody begins to see how they relate to everybody else. When
that happens, people in "the outside world" seem more colorful.... you stop
seeing people in terms of where they agree or disagree with you, and start
seeing them in terms of the way they exist. You begin to understand their
pain, even if you can't justify it yourself. You stop seeing emotions as
an absolute result of a cause, and start seeing them as an affect on a
person. And when that happens, you never have to make the mistake of
telling someone they don't know what love is, or telling them they
shouldn't feel that way, and you don't have to feel like you need to hurt
someone out of revenge. I honestly don't understand how so many people
can exist with their personalities chopped up into little bitty rooms, and then
further into little bitty cubicles. But it doesn't stop me from loving
them. And it doesn't stop me from trying to learn from them.
Humans, by nature, are already too lonely.... why do so many of us feel like
isolating the little pieces inside us will solve that? Maybe we do it out
of anger.... maybe we see one of those little voices inside us as the
instigator of our problems, so we send it to its room. If I had one piece
of advice to offer the world that always tells me to talk to more people, it
would be to listen to yourself first. Sometimes people keep silent for
reasons other than shyness.
But even so, there's no denying that I'm
lonely. The truth is that's probably why I can't sleep. And even
though there's more than enough going on in this cathedral, it would be nice if
people from other parishes came to visit. I know, I know, I've got to
travel outside, too. But this is my journal, and my web space, and I pay
for it, so I'm using it to complain. :-)
Maybe I should try to
go back to bed now. Maybe I should read another chapter of the
book. Maybe I should follow Joycelyn's advice about now. Maybe I
should eat some ice cream. Ahhh, I love this country.... so many
choices.
January 17, 1999 : I had my first three days of classes last
week. It shouldn't be all that hard of a year, except for my Calculus
class. I hate math. Believe it or not, I actually went to a party
last night for Alex's birthday. I had a pretty good time. Met a few
new people.... talked to a really interesting and attractive girl named
"Monique" (at least I think that's how you spell it). She got my home
page address from me, so she may end up reading this and getting me really
embarrassed. But that's OK. Wouldn't be the first time. :-)
My car is dirty. I really need to wash my car. I was going to
go through the nifty-keen little touchless car wash when I went back to Natchez
yesterday, but my mom convinced me that coming back for the day just to get my
hair cut and my car washed wasn't worth it. So now I guess I'll drive
back next weekend with an afro in my dirty car.
I wish it would
rain. I like the rain. Well this wasn't a very interesting
entry. Oh well, I can't be brilliant all the time. :-)
January 12, 1999 : Well, I'm finally moved back into the dorm.
Me, my clothes, and all 17 devices of my computer. Not to mention my
crab. Yes, my crab. It's a steel wire sculpture that stands about
four feet tall, by four feet wide. Nick brought it to campus for me in
his truck because it won't fit in my car, so I had to walk over to his dorm and
carry it back from half a mile away. 25 minutes round trip wasn't bad,
but I really need to be in better shape.
What is it with college
guys' sexual theory, anyway? So while I'm trying to eat, I overhear some
guys talking about sexual stuff they've done. What's the deal with people
thinking the penis is like some kind of magic wand? I've said it before,
and I'll say it again. Thinking you can satisfy someone with a dick is
like thinking you can win a naval battle with just one huge stationary cannon
on the end of your battleship. Sure, it's great for finishing off the
job, but you'll get killed if you start trying to move your ship just to take
aim at the target from the beginning. That's why we have fingers and
tongues and stuff. While fingers aren't nearly as big as the "big gun,"
they're much more maneuverable. And granted, they do require a lot of
maintainence--you've really got to watch those nails and cuticles. But
still, nothing can beat 'em. I mean, for fingers that are used to typing
everything all day, a romp in the sack is a day in the park. And as far
as the tongue goes, it's great! You have natural lubrication, undying
stamina, and as an added bonus, it has a natural germ-killer. But nooooo,
we live where guys think our penises are some sort of vibro-matic inventions
that satisfy women just by being there. If you go with the standard
philosophy, then penises are there to satisfy one sex: the men. And
that's my thought for the day.
January 8, 1999 : Well, I was supposed to start moving back into the
dorm today, but I ended up helping out at my former High School. They
wanted a LAN server replaced which had obsolete networked software on it.
They wanted to keep the software with all its data, but change the server, and
then turn the former server into a workstation, but wanted all of the
interfaces to remain the same so that they wouldn't confuse anyone.
Ahem.
Hanging out at the school where I spent 14 years of my life
(preschool though 12th grade) got me thinking about the past. Oh no, here
he goes again. (imagine your monitor goes blury at this point and reveals
the next part of the story).
Like most other people, I mourn the
time I lost and wish I had it back. But I don't want to go back... not
even "knowing then what I know now." Preschool and lower elementary were
horrible... I hated them. Back then, I was obsessed with being perfect...
I thought that if I did anything incorrectly, then everyone would hate me,
including God. I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder
(literally) to see if Satan was about to drag me off to hell. I had some
sort of religion obsession or something, I don't know where that came
from. I never had many friends, but that's not really out of the
ordinary. It wasn't really until my Sophomore year (age 15) that I
understood what the word "we" meant. But I still didn't know how to talk
to people..... knowing that it could be different only made it harder.
When I look back at pictures of myself at earlier ages, no matter how
objectively I try to view them, I still think I look different than everyone
else. There's something in my eyes, and it changes over the years.
When I look into my eyes at about my Freshman year (age 14), I get
intimidated... it doesn't even look like me. It looks like someone who
could chew me up and spit me out (and the fact is, that the me of that long ago
could seriously manipulate the me of today.... I may be a more developed person
now, but my defenses are comparatively nill). If other people saw me the
same way, it's no wonder nobody wanted to be around me. I still remember
how mad it used to make me when I would try to tell someone how I felt or the
situation I was in, and before I could finish, I'd get an "Oh, they'll grow out
of it," or an, "It's just a phase, you'll see," or a, "The same thing happens
to everyone." I couldn't believe that all these assholes were so arrogant
that they were willing to believe their personal experience was an infallable
and could apply it to me without hearing the whole story. I'm only
grateful that I usually didn't listen (elementary school taught me that when
the voice of experience is not preceded by the voice of inquisition, it's
usually just an ego defense in disguise). And unless I'm so wrapped up in
myself that I can't see the truth now, there really was something different
about me. I still remember telling myself that I had to abandon the idea
that anyone would listen and then think about it, and I'd have to be
satisfied in knowing that one day I would know the truth for myself. And
I think that's when I really became alone.... it wasn't when I got mad and
decided I didn't need the world, but when I decided the world didn't need me,
and that I would just be in the way. After a suicide attempt in fourth
grade (age 9) which I didn't tell anyone about for 6 years, I decided that the
only way to stay alive was to develop an appreciation for my own personal
advancement, since the world wasn't going to "give" (apparently, nobody told me
the world doesn't "give" you anything you're too closed off to look for).
I think a lot of people go through a similar development.... but I, like
everything else, did it in my own dramatic style. :-)
Even today, I
think I look "different." Once, someone told me I look like someone who
represents an established institution.... hmmmmm.
This little ray of
sunshine has been brought to you by Van Goodwin, and the letter E.
January 6, 1999 : Why is it that everyone seems to ask for my time
right at the end when I'm about to go back home to LSU. I start moving
back in two days, and suddenly, several people have asked me for computer
services, the information I needed for revamping the LSU PLUS home page FINALLY
was sent to me (and I had promised to have the page done for the beginning of
the semester), people want to come see me before I leave and will be grossly
offended if they don't get the chance (that sounded quite conceited, didn't
it?), among a whole bunch of other crap. For three weeks, the only
thing I had to do was this home page and I was bored out of my mind. Now
I don't even have the time to make the few remaining adjustments I was
planning. Oh well... at least we have weekends.
I suppose that
if I was really pressed for time, I wouldn't be writing this journal
entry. But I feel it's important to get things into perspective for
yourself. The truth is that I could literally forget about everything
else I had to do and move back this instant, and the world would keep
turning. Sure, I would piss a couple of people off, but they'd get over
it. What's new in my life? Hmmm...
A few days ago,
Bergin brought me a David Allan Coe "Super Hits" CD as a Christmas gift (kind
of as a joke). For most of you who don't know who he is, David Allan Coe
is a hard core classic country artist that makes other classics like Waylon
Jennings seem ultraprogressive. Bergin said the only reason he got it for
me was that it was in a bargain bin, and that he didn't care enough to get me
anything that would cost real money. With friends like that, who needs
enemies? Incidentally, I've found that "The Ride" from that CD is
excellent for doing bicep curls. And "If That Ain't Country" isn't that
bad for chest exercises, either. Moving to the beat gives you slow, even
movements for maximum resistance. Of course, nothing can beat
Alabama's "Song of the South" for a
versatile workout song.
Well, I better go now. That's enough
reflecting. I've got letters to type, hard drives to install, and
stuff. And stuff. Later.
January 2, 1999 : It's 4:33 in the morning and I've been up all
night. Again. No point in going to bed now. A few hours ago,
I went to Wal-Mart to get some shampoo. It seemed like such a waste to go
all the way into town in the middle of the night, but hey, it's better than
walking around with greasy hair. On the way back, I stopped at James'
house and used my key to get in. I don't know what's scarrier... the fact
that I have a key to his house, or the fact that I knew I could barge in and
he'd be awake. On the way back into my house, I couldn't help but think
what a sensual night it was. The cool wind wrapped around my body and
consistent faint lightning maintained a gentle glow everywhere. It's one
of those nights that makes you just want to pause, close your eyes, and breathe
it into your system. So I did. But now it's raining very hard with
intense thunder and lightning. I think that's pretty sensual, too.
Have you ever wanted to freeze time just long enough to kiss a raindrop in
mid-air?
I finally tracked down an old friend on the Internet.
The last time I talked to him was before either of us really had Internet
access and we spoke through an old hierarchial QWK-based network called
"U'nI-net." He lives in California. I finally found him by
searching DejaNews for his name and came up with two messages. Luckily, I
even kept envelopes from letters that people used to write to me, and I
cross-referenced a company name he had in his signature with the return address
on an old envelope to make sure it was him. Scary, huh? I would
write him e-mail, but the server is down for the moment.
Well I
guess that's about it. Maybe I'll go out in the rain.... we take it for
granted.
December 30, 1998 : Recent events have led me to wonder about what
makes some cliques/families so dangerous. It's when we think we have a
strict moral compass where none actually exists that we truly become
dangerous. For example, let's say that a certain group assumes it's
righteous because it "knows" what's wrong--you don't abuse your
children/spouse, you give a stipen to the church, you smile at people, you
don't do drugs, and like magic, you're living life the way you should.
But it's not the seemingly obvious displays of anger and self-hatred that ruin
so many lives--it's the subtle traces of internalized anger that fly beneath
the radar. People live, grow old, and die, never knowing they they were
ruining their life the whole time.
It's 06:30, and I stayed up all
night. I have to take my car to the shop early this morning, and by the
time I was sleepy, I knew I'd never be able to get myself out of bed in
time. Ever hear that one before? Anyhoo, it gave me time to work on
this home page. I started designing new error messages to replaced those
loud, nasty "ERROR 404" type things. Naturally, the new ones use the
standard Redstroke.com color scheme. Also, I configured Finger so that
just in case there's still a few people out there who do that (other than
myself), they'll have a treat when they finger me . I did have the nifty
guestbook working earlier today, but it crashed on me and didn't get back
up. I'll try again from the beginning after I get some sleep. Oh,
and I had a treat when I looked at the Redstroke.com access logs for the first
time today! I got to see domain names and everything. I'm easily
amused.
December 28, 1998 : In the past 48 hours, three people made comments on things I could do to improve my appearance. One suggested a tanning bed (first, knowing my skin, it wouldn't help [see Weird Things about Van], and second, even if it did, a couple of shades is not worth risking cancer). Another suggested actually coloring my hair blonde. And still another suggested I start using weight gain. I have to wonder if I'm really THAT bad off. Perhaps I'm just one of these people that's so incredibly ugly, nobody tells him. Or perhaps if I stopped complaining, people would stop trying to give me solutions. Yeah, that's probably it.
December 17, 1998 : Today is my birthday. I got lots of new
clothes. This is a good thing, because I haven't gotten new clothes in
about four years, and now I can start dressing like a real college student and
everything. I'll be a regular American Eagle poster boy, except
shorter... and paler.... and not as attractive.... but other than
that...!
After reading an article on quantum computer research at
CalTech, I had an idea. I'm sure someone else already thought of it, but
I'll voice it anyway. If quantum computers, in theory, are so good at
doing stuff like finding really big prime numbers, but not any better at
sequential calculations, why don't we just install something like a "quantum
chip" in our standard computers? That way it could take on the
calculations it's good at, kind of like a math coprocessor. Just a
thought.
Copyright © Van Goodwin, 1998-1999 Format revision on 2001-12-21 Comments are welcome Contact Van