so this seriously is going to be the last entry on this page, and then I will really be through with blogging - aach! I hate the whole system. It's like the way you tell things to your friends without actually having to talk to them, and then when you see them again you don't know how to act because you don't know if they've read it, and then they wonder why you're acting wierd and then you have to ask, hey, you didn't read that entry, did you. And then they say, uh oh. No, I didn't. And then what? What do you say? "Oh, no big deal, pretend I didn't say anything." Or, "Hum, you'd better go read it, it changes a lot."

So anyway, blogging is too complicated that way. It's also dumb because it becomes an uncontrolled stream of words in which you end up saying things you don't really mean because it completes your dramatic effect. Also very dumb.

Another thing? If all your friends have blogs you have to be constantly checking them to see if anyone's saying anything about you. This becomes very stressful.

So everyone - keep writing your blogs. But if you have anything to say to me, tell me about it directly because I am stopping my reading of blogs; they fluster me so.

Hum. Anyways. A closing blog word -

How I am Feeling Right Now? [the quintessential blog topic]

1) Pretty Good - I am sort of getting used to summer (if that is ever possible - it seems like you spend your whole year waiting for it to get here and when it does it's like, 'damn, I kind of wish it was winter') and getting into the routine of this job. But I don't like the job so much, because it makes me feel also very 2) Tired. Physically. I'm doing a lot of stuff and moving a lot. I am also not liking the fact that it gives me time to think, because I hate the way thoughts work in my head - it's like a channel changer flipping constantly with a vague sinister general direction but no cohesion between the thoughts and no control over speed and content. So this makes me feel a little 3) Nervous, because I spend all those thoughts analyzing my problems, or rather Problem. Which is that I feel 4) Terrified - Terrified. Of seeing Mo and not knowing what to say or do or what decision to make and whether to jump and get hurt or be safe or get stalled in the turn lane at the green light and get hit by oncoming traffic and oh God. And then of course no one is willing to put up with indecision and then I feel also 5) Pressured on top of everything else. So I am so deathly afraid of even talking to Mo because I don't know simply because I don't know how it will make me feel. It is like fire, it really is, because it can either warm you beautifully or burn you and it's so easy to do either and I am Afraid. But you know what I need to do? Just talk. Just talk. It will be okay. (I think.) (I hope.) It seems like every time I can get past that barrier of fear and Just Talk it is okay. Except I don't know what she's thinking now when I'm talking to her and whether she cares. I don't think she thinks I care. I don't know. She still looks.... fractured. Like her mind is in a million places. And that is something which will scare me away every time. But she knows that. So maybe that wasn't really it, maybe it was just because I saw her at work... but now i am still afraid because she writes ominous things on her blog and also afraid because I will have to see her at the Beatles concert and in all likelihood she will be freaking out and dancing and acting cool and wearing sunglasses so I can't see her eyes or her soul and I will just feel like I am looking at a stone wall and will turn away and afterwards she will say Why? Why are you such a downer? Why are things so "awkward?" Ha.

I hope that's not it. I hope that won't be true. I don't know. I just feel like I'm not in control. ? Like even if I wanted to I couldn't make things the way I want. For me that is a very daunting feeling. I guess this is evidence that I am extremely overconfident or something but generally I can make things turn out the way I want, provided I put enough work into it. And now I'm finding that some things can't be solved by working yourself harder about them. It's very frustrating and I don't know how to deal with it. So I hypothesize that it must be some sort of social interaction problem, like that I don't relate to people or something, because it really feels like they don't understand what the hell i'm talking about half the time. It's like, "Hey, keegan, have you read this sweet book?!" "No." "Oh." "Let's talk about something else." "Oh, okay. What?" "I dunno." Not that this actual conversation took place, but this is how I feel around people, it's like the two ends of the wires not quite meeting in the middle and being sautered together really poorly because the metals are incompatible. It's like hitting concrete tennis balls. So how do I react? Well, I just go be by myself. And no one understands this, for reasons already spoken. And thus ends my blog. Someone please call me and help me. ?

Oh, Fuck. this summer sucks. i've never felt so confused and angry in my entire life. i'm so confused that I somehow decided to blog post-mortem, so go figure. Basically, there are too many people, and people want things from me. And I can't give everyone what they want because then I'll be taking away from other people. Some people can't get unless others don't. And that is a pain in the ass. So here I am trying to balance all the people who care about me (or used to) (before I lost control of my life) and make sure that everyone still is willing to talk to me. And I'm not sure everyone is. I feel like I've burned a lot of bridges to keep my life in black and white. I just hate gray so much that I have to hack it away wherever I see it, and shape the world to my liking. I can't live in the world I was given. I have to fix it, always. That is stressful. And it also leads people to think I am a bastard. Which I most definitely am. I don't know how I got to be this way - such a jerk, that is. I've never intentionally tried to hurt anyone.... i've just maybe let things go too far and either not acted enough or overreacted. Like how I have this habit of venting things on paper and then sending them to people... when maybe i shouldn't have. When maybe nobody deserves to have to hear everything that's going on in my mind. And that's what makes me sick... that I have this stuff burning holes in my skull all the time, that i'm getting confused and angry to the point where i find it soothing to listen to Elliott Smith- I need a new life. Everyone hates me, and I'm bored with everyone. I feel like I need to just get out of here and detox. But damn, no one can ever get away. "a distorted reality is now a necessity to be free" -elliott smith

BLOGGING IS DEAD.

the Springsmelling
intense large togethercolored instant

the moment pleasantly frightful

i feel sorry for all of the harsh words sometimes. i don't mean to always beat you over the head with stuff; i guess I just do it to you because I do it so much to myself. Anyway, don't ever think that I say anything to you except because i love you, maureen. Merry christmas.

so it's christmas eve and i'm trying to practice for the service tonight but my mind keeps wandering. I'm so not ready for this whole christmas thing. I guess maybe all the CA performances kind of desensitized me to christmas, because it's like I've already celebrated it 6 times at 6 different parties. I don't know. The other thing is that breaks like Christmas break or Thanksgiving break always let you down. You get all excited about all this free time you're going to have and then once it's there it gets fought over by your fifteen different friends and your family. The shot of this is that you can't do anything with anyone without pissing off the other 14 people.


I guess I just feel really off balance right now. I wake up and all day I have these fluttering feelings in my stomach (or as Frank McCourt would say) dark clouds at the back of my head. I try to put it away and ignore it but I just feel.... edgy. The thing is, it would be a lie to say I don't know why this is.


I can't feel good unless everything is perfect with Mo. And that's a huge understatement. If I'm not completely confident about our relationship 100% of the time, I always feel terrible, edgy, nervous. The thing is, since this is such an unreasonable expectation, I'm nervous pretty much all the time. It's like an addiction. Actually, wow, that is so true.


There are those few moments we have together that are so beautiful and amazing that they're pretty much all I live for. It's when we click, lock together on every level it's like we're the same person in two bodies. She looks at me, I gaze back at her, and in that moment the rest of the world falls away because there's something only we know and it's just us. Like the time at her house over thanksgiving when we were exploring the construction site, or the time when we were talking in the deserted auditorium, or the time at Nics when we walked to Chris' birthday party, or when we were unwrapping presents at Alex's. That's how I know I love her; times like that.


I'll sort of coast on the high I get from those moments, but then what happens when I don't see her? I go into a sort of withdrawal and all I can think about is her but not in a good way, not like I'm dreaming about her, more like constant worry that I'm losing the image of her in my mind, losing the connection, drifting, lost. Her sweatshirt lost her smell a week ago. I reread her notes to me over and over. But the thing is, its just so stupid because the most I'm going to go without seeing her is like a day or two and here I am acting like a complete maniac. I sort of want to be like, whoa, Adam, get over yourself and be a real person for once.


I guess the real problem is that neither of us feel enough security. Maybe that's something that comes in time. After all, we've only been dating for about 2 and a half months, so I could be having way unreasonable expectations. But I want us to get to the point where we can be apart for a while and still be okay because we know the other is thinking about us and love is still burning despite the miles and that if ever we're lonely all I have to do is think her name, or picture her eyes, and it's like a refuge. We're going to need this in March. Are we ever.


But we can't reach this point unless we show the love when we are together. And I still don't think we're doing this enough. I really worry that you didn't take me seriously over what I said in the last entry and over the past two weeks. I still mean every word. And I hope they cut to the heart because that's what I need you to do for me. Cut through all the meaningless B.S. of the world and go straight for my heart; straight for that connection. Because when you don't, like when you're so focused on physics or cooking or something {insignificant} that you're too busy to hold my gaze and smile or when you answer the phone like it isn't the most important thing you'll do all day - it hurts. A lot. Or when I write stuff like this that begs for an answer, any answer, and I don't get a response. It's stuff like that which hacks away at that security we need, and the worst part is that I know it doesn't have to be that way.


I guess at the bottom of this I'm still just the little boy who needs more attention. But that's too bad. It's the way I am. I know you have needs. You need a lot of time attention, and I feel like I've been doing a pretty good job of this considering. I on the other hand need a lot of emotional attention. Just remember that.

We’re driving along I-75 to the Josh Ritter concert. The leaves are just starting to fall from the trees but I don’t care because all that matters is that I’m getting out, getting away from the gilded cage I’ve been living in. Not that things are actually that bad. It’s just that sometimes we get into this routine of life and can’t see above the horizon, can’t see the point of it all. When I’m on the highway, though, when I have the open road before me and everything I know receding in the distance, that’s when I can breathe. I look at Maria and realize that that’s what she is to me. An open road. A way out. Everything else in my life is so predictable. With her, I have absolutely no idea.
We are so behind schedule. It took us an extra hour to leave because Maria had to find her wool hat with the polar bear on the front because her ears get cold. I was trying to figure out how it mattered that her ears were cold when the whole rest of her body was covered in about three sweatshirts and this huge winter coat, but she says she just always gets cold no matter what and that I should try being like a flipping hypochondriac for once. Whatever that is. Like she actually knows anything about blood diseases.
I flip my turn signal and swerve into the left lane, passing this Jewish-looking guy and his family, but I can’t actually concentrate on what I’m doing because Maria is in the next seat screaming Ben Folds at the top of her lungs.
“Ben Folds, for crying out loud,” I say, “this is the Josh Ritter concert. Talk about no attention span. It’s like I’m trying to drive here and actually get there on time and you’re trying to get us both killed.”
“Hey, look, you said if you could drive I could pick the CD’s.”
“Okay, fine. But I didn’t give you like a carte blanche to blow my eardrums.”
She smiles at me because she knows I’m not really angry. “I’m just trying not to shock you. I’ve got to keep everything at the same level: my talking... the music....” She makes a little scale with her hands like she’s weighing the decibels.
“Yeah, good point,” I say. “I probably sustained permanent hearing damage before you even turned the music on.” Which is funny because I’m starting to feel like she’s the only one I can actually hear these days. Everyone else kind of mumbles, and I keep having to say, “Excuse me, what?” half of the time. So maybe I actually do have hearing damage, but it’s okay because it’s not like anyone else has anything important to tell me. “By the way, what is he even saying in that song? ‘I want my money back, you what?’”
“I want my money back, you ‘bitch’.” Maria smirks coyly.
“Oh, right, of course. That’s some nice romantic driving music right there.”
“Well, look,” she sighs. “Not everything can be romantic all the time. Everybody has problems sometimes. Ben has like a breakup with his girlfriend, blahblahblah. So naturally he gets angry. She probably didn’t even deserve him in the first place.” Maria looks into the rear view mirror and toys with her hair. She hasn’t been able to quit playing with it since it got cut the other day and she wants to know what kind of world is this when you go in for a haircut and end up looking like a flipping leukemia patient. I remind her that the whole point of it all was to give 11 inches to Locks of Love and she says, oh yeah, right.
She knows she’s not being a good enough person all the time and it bothers her. Almost as much as being alone bothers her. I’ll never forget the time she calls me up at like three A.M. and gasps, ‘I miss you.’ Like I was never going to see her again or something.
The difference between us is that it bothers her that she’s not giving enough love whereas I think about it for a second and let it slide. Because I think I have bigger problems. And then she wonders what the bigger problems are and I kind of mumble and stare at the ground and wish I had a Red Bull. The truth is I’m probably going to get cancer from caffeine or something and who’s going to need those 11 inches of light brown? Me.
She’s been talking about something but the truth is I haven’t really been listening because I’ve been watching her lips move the whole time and looking at the expressions on her face as she talks. Her nose kind of scrunches up when she’s skeptical about something or trying to understand the random bullshit I say. And then when she’s excited her eyes kind of light up the and the blue hurts but it doesn’t matter right now because she’s yelling at me.
“Hey! What have I been saying for like the past twenty minutes?!”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s not like I could really hear you over all the Ben Folds wanting his money back and everything.”
“You sneaky bastard,” she says, half smiling. “I know you zoned me out.”
Not really, I want to tell her. Really what I zoned out is the rest of the world. But I say, “Okay, so I lost it at ‘hypochondriac.’”
“Hypochondriac? What are you even talking about? I was talking about Idaho.”
“Um, okay, Idaho. Somehow I don’t feel bad about missing that.”
She shoots a look that says “you philistine” at me and puts in the Josh Ritter album. The song “Wings” starts playing and I give her a look that says “We love this song. Us. Our song.” and she looks back at me and our eyes meet for an instant and then it’s gone. The Jewish guy whips past me on the freeway and I realize I’ve only been going about sixty miles an hour.
I’m trying to keep my eyes on the road but then she starts talking again and now I’m looking at the little birthmark under her left ear and her hands as she keeps playing with her hair. But I swear I’m paying attention.
“It’s in the song,” she says, concentrating on the music. “Josh Ritter was born in Idaho. You know where he says ‘Coeur D’Alene’? That’s in Idaho. It’s like this deep lake surrounded by pine trees and it’s always raining.”
Why does that sound like heaven?
“That’s my favorite line, by the way. The part where he’s like ‘what makes the water holy, she says, is that its the closest thing to rain...’ I don’t know. Somehow when it’s raining I feel like for a few moments heaven isn’t being silent anymore.” She looks down at her hands, spinning the little hockey-tape bracelet around her wrist. “Do you ever wish you could talk to God?”
“I guess. Yeah. I don’t know what I’d say, though.” Except that I do know what I’d say. I’d say, Thank you.
“I know exactly what I’d ask him,” Maria says. “I’d say, why? Why love? Look at the cost. It’s not worth it. You’ve been burned before.” She undoes the tape. “I’ve been burned before.”
Maria pulls the bracelet off her wrist and looks at it for a moment, staring at the white letters on the front. “Lemme see your wrist,” she says.
I stretch out my hand and she fastens the hockey tape around it. The white letters say ‘life distracts.’
I let my fingers close around hers. She’s cold and shaking slightly, and I can see her breath as she lets it out raggedly. She closes her eyes, the long lashes resting on her cheeks.
“I can’t hear the music anymore,” she says.
I hold her tighter and as we pull up to the stoplight in Grand Rapids, a raindrop falls on the windshield.

i had completely forgotten about blink-182,and then yesterday I saw that they have a greatest hits album.

a greatest hits album.

it sort of woke me up, because somehow i guess i just always thought blink would exist. as far as i was concerned they had been around forever and would keep playing as long as I needed them. I needed them to grow up - they were my junior high years. there's really no other way to put it. blink was the soundtrack to being a teenager and now they aren't just gone, they're history. someone looked back over their career and said, hey, lets use this one from 1993, this one from 1999. Lets box it up and sell it on a shelf. Good. Done with that one. Next?

But I'm not done growing up. i'm not ready for my soundtrack to fade. and when I am done; that's the part I'm afraid of. What comes after? Its like Tom DeLonge - what does he do after Blink? What more can he have in this life? Somehow I see him sitting on a seedy couch in a garage looking at his old platinums up on the wall and wishing there were still rock shows and beer and being a jackass and being alive. Because without that all thats left is memories.

How is it that so much of my life is memories? That so much of it has already gone past? I can't believe it was like 5 years ago when I first got Enema of the State and listened to it in secret on the playground and privately thought I was a badass because it said 'explicit content' on it.

so much of blink kind of makes you sad when you listen to it because of how its clumsily poetic and how it describes exactly this part of you which is going to be gone so fast. i once read that there's something very "first-kiss-after-falling-off-the-monkey-bars" about blink and that is so exactly it. Only there will never again be monkey bars, and I've already had my first kiss. What more does that leave in life?

One thing that scares me is these college kids who come back to choir sometimes and visit, with these kind of haunted, pained looks on their faces. their eyes say "this was life, why didn't we appreciate it before it was too late?" now they're in the 'real world' trying to put together their engineering career, and all they can do is look back. thats where the Blink lyric comes in:

"don't forget to think about me and i wont forget you...i'll think about the times she kissed me after classes... ditched my lecture to watch the girls play soccer/is my picture still hanging in her locker... I haven't been this scared in a long time/and i'm so unprepared.... bouquet of clumsy words, a simple melody/this world's an ugly place, but you're so beautiful to me."