Life Is One Big Party When You're Still Young, But Who's Gonna Have Your Back When It's All Done

--"Angel", Shaggy

"I've got a joke for you."

"What's that?"

"What did one drunk IM to the other one?"

----

miss carly (12:27:41 AM): im wastoiddd

Mojo shivers (12:27:56 AM): Aren't we all?

mc (12:28:00 AM): yes

mc (12:28:01 AM): sakdjas?

mc (12:28:03 AM): uh oh

mc (12:28:05 AM): patrick

mc (12:28:07 AM): i cant take this

mc (12:28:15 AM): some kid ive been hanging out with is like in love with me and i cant do it

mc (12:28:31 AM): i can only fuck people i have no emotional attachment to

Ms (12:28:33 AM): Let him down gently.

mc (12:28:47 AM): im wastoid so i used it as an excusse

mc (12:28:52 AM): im the best wastoid typer

mc (12:28:59 AM): i swear itsmy specialty

mc (12:29:04 AM): some kid ripped a hole in my fave shirt

Ms (12:29:13 AM): You, you are pretty good at typing now.

mc (12:29:27 AM): aww mannnn

Ms (12:30:06 AM): I swear, you're one of those rare types that people just instantly gravitate towards.

mc (12:30:13 AM): nooo

mc (12:30:23 AM): i dont talk to people!

mc (12:30:26 AM): how does this happen?!

mc (12:30:31 AM): but the one person i want to fuck i cant

Ms (12:30:57 AM): Yeah, I'm totally into you, platonically of course, and I can't really explain why.

People just want what they can't have.

mc (12:31:38 AM): but we are friends

mc (12:31:42 AM): and im doing my best to make it up there

mc (12:31:45 AM): but my dads being weird

mc (12:31:50 AM): and all into meeting stupid socialites

Ms (12:32:56 AM): I'm just saying, there's no reason why i should think you're as awesome as I think you are. The only reason I can think of is that you have a talent for making people gravitate towards you.

I know you're trying to make it up there. I don't doubt that and it's not big deal if you don't. I'll see you eventually.

mc (12:34:10 AM): i mean i can go up there whenever its just because i have so many responsibilities this weekend i can only really go if ill see my dad for a bit too

Ms (12:35:18 AM): I understand. Sorry about texting you earlier all clingy. I hate that. I just think it would be cool to see you again.

So how wastoid are you?

mc (12:35:36 AM): no no i really appreciated the texts

mc (12:35:42 AM): thats why i ansered

mc (12:35:47 AM): if i think theyre clingy i dont answer

Ms (12:36:31 AM): I just don't want to weird you out. I like that we're friends, but it's difficult that because of circumstances we can't be closer friends.

mc (12:38:41 AM): i agree. it bothers me because we always hae best talks

Ms (12:40:15 AM): I don't know--I think you're one cool individual with a very fun and pleasant personality. I think a lot of my interest in you is the fact you do... maybe you are... the person I always wanted to be ten years ago.

mc (12:42:04 AM): dont you understand though?

mc (12:42:17 AM): theres a scared person underneath all that

Ms (12:42:17 AM): Understand what?

mc (12:42:21 AM): i mean the scared person isnt always there

mc (12:42:23 AM): but its there

Ms (12:43:26 AM): I know, but everyone's scared. The difference is you don't let it stop you from doing a lot of things that I let it stop me from doing.

Like, last week was the first time I've smoked anything. Not because I had any real reason against it, but because I was afraid to try it.

You're not like that.

mc (12:44:25 AM): but its not alwyas good to not be afraid

mc (12:44:31 AM): im afraid of the things i shouldnt be afraid of

Ms (12:45:31 AM): It's worse to be afraid of too much, though. Like I'm not afraid of doing things people don't like, but I'm afraid of doing things that everybody else likes... if that makes any sense.

What makes the great Carly afraid?

mc (12:45:50 AM): just do whats best for you

mc (12:45:56 AM): a lot

mc (12:46:01 AM): feeling.

mc (12:46:04 AM): i get too into the issues

mc (12:46:09 AM): sometimes i just feel like sylvia plath

mc (12:46:19 AM): completely hopeless when realizing the reality of things

mc (12:46:27 AM): and getting to sinto it that i know it dolesnt actually matter

mc (12:46:30 AM): but then realizing

mc (12:46:37 AM): that if it doesnt actually matter...why am i here?

mc (12:47:15 AM): i dont even have free will

mc (12:47:20 AM): so what?

mc (12:47:23 AM): what...

mc (12:47:26 AM): nothing is here.

mc (12:47:30 AM): sadderday.

mc (12:47:33 AM): oops

mc (12:47:36 AM): i didnt mean to say that

mc (12:47:44 AM): that was a freudian slip

Ms (12:47:56 AM): I feel hopeless sometimes. Sometimes I feel like the life I live is the one I got stuck with for making the wrong choices. Like my life could have been so much better if I'd just made better decisions.

I think you handle yourself admirably and I think you do more to establish yourself as an individual with free will than you truly know.

mc (12:48:36 AM): but its not recognized

mc (12:48:39 AM): and i dont evben care about that

mc (12:48:48 AM): but its so hard sometimes when you look around and see whats reallyh out there

Ms (12:49:23 AM): I recognize it. And I think being able to recognize there is more going on than what's in your world now is the first step to becoming a bigger part of the world at large.

mc (12:51:06 AM): its scary

mc (12:51:10 AM): but you know what

mc (12:51:15 AM): im willing to go beyond the fear and laziness

mc (12:51:28 AM): and when you go beyond that compeltely and know whats in your past and how it can affect the now and the future...

mc (12:51:40 AM): then you go where no one has gone and you expand like no one else can

mc (12:51:58 AM): you almost become something new

Ms (12:52:06 AM): I'm telling you, you and I should have been friends a long time ago. You talk and think about the same ideas I have in exactly the same way I view them.

mc (12:53:12 AM): does it ever really fuck with you and make you just question everything to a degree that makes you so hopeless that youre hopeful?

Ms (12:54:07 AM): Yes. Sometimes I get into a state where I think there's nothing I can do to change my world at all that I think if I take small steps it'll be something. Then when those small steps add up to something big I realize I can change some things.

mc (12:55:01 AM): yeah i want something big

mc (12:55:03 AM): hey guess what

Ms (12:55:07 AM): what?

mc (12:55:12 AM): i think my newly out of the closet friend and i are going to homecoming!!

mc (12:55:19 AM): i dont know because i REALLY dont want to buy a dress

mc (12:55:21 AM): and figure it all out

Ms (12:55:53 AM): That's cool. I never got to go to my homecoming. I did all my big dating in college.

mc (12:56:42 AM): i hate dnaces

mc (12:56:49 AM): do yiou know the mustic of gunther?

Ms (12:56:57 AM): Not really.

mc (12:57:48 AM): its euro trash

mc (12:58:02 AM): and i cant be in a relationship at all right now and i dont know what to do about ittttt

mc (12:58:05 AM): i only wantto be with henry

mc (12:58:06 AM): but i cant

mc (12:58:10 AM): and thats okay

mc (12:58:13 AM): i know how to get past that

mc (12:58:20 AM): but i just cant do anything else

Ms (12:59:00 AM): I was just talking about that with someone else tonight. It sucks to want to be with someone you just can't be with. I'm kind of going through that right now too. IT sucks.

mc (12:59:30 AM): it sucks a lot especially when youve had something with them but it just cant be because of circumstance and thats all

mc (12:59:37 AM): and you can only have that person once in a while

Ms (1:00:11 AM): It's like you feel so strongly about a person and all you can do is wait and wait for things to change when, in all likelihood, they won't.

mc (1:00:27 AM): i know that too

mc (1:00:40 AM): but my situation is just more that hes in college and i guess you know it really is the same thing

mc (1:00:49 AM): but henry was the best person for me to be around

mc (1:01:08 AM): it just kept me on the right track emotionally and all that

Ms (1:02:09 AM): I've done the whole age difference thing. Did you know my best friend and I slept together when she was still in high school and I was in college? It wasn't the same as your situation, but I remember how hard it was to know that pretty much was the only thing preventing us from being closer than we were.

mc (1:02:43 AM): yeah and doesnt that just fucking suck?

mc (1:02:56 AM): i mean youre so tempted to just call the person and see how they are and meet up for coffee but you cant

mc (1:02:58 AM): you just cant

Ms (1:04:02 AM): Yeah. And Georgia isn't like a drive away either, but I seriously would have moved for her if she kept up how hurt she was we couldn't be together as I'm sure if Henry told you how much he needed you day after day you'd be doing evertying you could to be with him.

mc (1:04:23 AM): i dont know anymore

mc (1:04:24 AM): about anything

mc (1:04:28 AM): ahh i just want to sleep


girl, you’re my friend when I’m in need, lady

Ms (1:04:49 AM): You go sleep then and I hope I see you sometime this weekend.

mc (1:05:09 AM): yeah and if not this weekend we gwont go as long as last time

Ms (1:05:18 AM): I can totally drive down there.

Ms (1:05:38 AM): Or meet up halfway if you want to dinner one day after work and your classes.

Ms (1:06:12 AM): Because eight months just ain't good enough, especially with you're moving away next year.

mc (1:06:30 AM): i probably wont even finish my apps

mc (1:06:33 AM): and then i wont go anywhere

Ms (1:06:47 AM): I wouldn't let you do that.

Ms (1:06:59 AM): I care about you too much to let that happen.

mc (1:07:05 AM): aww

mc (1:07:08 AM): ]thanks

mc signed off at 1:07:18 AM.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

How to see you again

I'm sorry for the lack of updates, everyone, really. All two of you must be very disappointed in me.

Anyway, I've been back in school for a month, and I finally got a dorm on Monday. I was commuting before that, having to get up at 5 every morning to go in with mom for classes didn't start until after 9...and waiting until 4 to be picked up, even when I only had one class for the day. Trust me, it's every bit as fun as it sounds. The dorm is nice, but the central air system is blasting air at full power, and the only way to keep the room not completely freezing is to open the window and let some of it out (it helps, but it's still cold in here). Otherwise, it's great to have a dorm again, especially since my roommate is hardly in it. >=P

Japanese class is my favorite, by far. We're being taught conversational Japanese mostly, and I've learned the Hiragana writing system. One down, two to go...

Other than that, not much new is going on. Lost season 3 starts next Wednesday, I can't wait for that, despite the really questionable schedule. Also, promo stills for the new Harry Potter movie were released recently. Fun.

What happened to my whores???

You know you're gone from the blog scene for a while and next thing you know your whores run off and stop posting. I think for sure I'm gonna have to choke a bitch. I mean, what am I suppose to do at work now to pass the time now that I can't read those prostitute blogs? Do work? F-that! These hands are too pretty for manual labor. Or any labor for that matter...

Sadly though that's not the case. So here's the update. The reason I've been gone for so long is a couple of things. One, I went on my bi-annual boat/river trip with my yellow friends. I know we don't belong anywhere near water unless we're fishing with a big net but at least we didn't show up with dress shoes and slacks like some other asians do when they go to the beach. Still we get these looks from the white folks, "I'm tired of these mother F'ing fobs, on this mother F'ing lake." But anyway, this is something I'm happy to report. For the first time in all these river trips I didn't get hurt or cry. Someone else picked up those honors for me. Thanks Whitey!

Another reason why I've been gone is my grandmother passed away a few weeks ago. So I was in the Philippines visiting family and attending her funeral. God rest her soul. She was an awesome Lola who once told me she'd threaten to haunt me as a ghost if I ever became a police officer. So I guess she wins. Because I'm not a cop. But I'll miss her a lot...

Which brings me to my return to the states. Apparently I picked up all kinds of diseases when I was there. And those bitches told me they were clean... Haha... I'm just kidding. I don't have any STDs. The doctor who gave me an oral prostate exam said so. But seriously, in my week stay in the islands I managed to get a severe cold, my arm got swollen from a cockroach bite that required me to go to the ER, and I got a strand of E. Coli that tore up my exit hole for weeks. And I'm not talking about my regular mad poo-poo. This crap was furious! It would come out kicking and scratching the sides of my a-hole the whole way out. Thankfully, I've recovered from all the above. My butt cheeks are on the side of my legs now. But other than that, I'm all normal.

I guess with all these things happening, I still technically could have wrote something. But I guess all my writing ability has gone to my side projects that I'm working on with a coworker. Can I write a semi-entertaining blog? Sure. Can I write a legit screenplay? Probably not. But still, I continue to lie to myself and my buddy who's working with me. We continue to push on! And to tell you the truth it's actually fun. Especially when I have no money to go out, this is the only way to enjoy myself.

So there you have it. I wasn't completely lazy or dodging you all. Well maybe some of you. But you know who you are because I never return your calls. Unless of course I see you. Then my phone was broken. Anyway, I'll try to start this up again. Just hang out with me and make sure I do something stupid that I can write about. But I don't know who's baby that is, and he doesn't look like me!!! Peace.

Like A Heartbeat, Drives You Mad, In The Stillness Of Remembering What You Had, And What You Lost, And What You Had, And What You Lost

--"Dreams", Fleetwood Mac

For those who know me, I don't get ill very often. I pride myself on being able to carry on, power through most diseases that other people have let stop their entire day because of. Because of that fact and because of the fact I don't too often rely on medicines, syrups, or pills ot cure whatever ails me, I believe I've built quite a resilient immune system that takes more than your average cold to bring down. It bothers me to miss work, miss writing, miss whatever else I had planned for the day to be stuck in bed, feeling miserable. I just hate being sick.

Four main qualities stick out when I think of exactly why I hate being sick. The first is I hate how hot and sticky it makes you. For someone who lives in California I don't have a high tolerance for feeling warm. In fact, I used to get all itchy and even break out in hives when I felt too warm. Even if it's the dead of winter, I will still cling to wearing t-shirts and shorts for as long as possible throughout the year. Being in bed, all sweaty, all warm, just doesn't suit me. It's uncomfortable and it doesn't allow for trouble-free sleep, which is usually my main means of getting over an illness. I hate the fact I have to get up two or three times a day just to shower because I feel so warm. I hate the fact that it can be five a.m. and I'll still be tossing covers off because I'm so hot.

The second reason why I hate being sick is because I sleep way too much. I've often called sleep the enemy. I've just never been one to want more sleep rather than less. Most of the time, there are a half dozen other things I would rather be doing than sleeping the day away. I hate the fact that it takes me away from writing on here, I hate the fact it takes me away from talking to people I always talk to, and I hate the fact it makes me feel even lazier than I already am. I don't know--sleep has never seem all that important to me, which is probably how and why I do get sick when I do. I know I don't sleep enough. Insomnia and I are good friends. But I can't get over the feeling that there's more to life than resting it all away.

That brings me to the third reason why I hate being sick. I hate being sick because it gives you all manner of strange dreams. Not only that, but, because I'm so delirious when I get sick, I often believe that what I'm seeing is real. Nothing is worse than the feeling of having conversations with somebody who isn't actually there. For instance, last night I dreamt that B. came over to take care of me, which is ridiculous because she's in Georgia and because she has never once taken care of me when I've been sick. What induced me to imagine such a ludicrous scene I can only guess at. But there she was, tending to my needs, getting me whatever I wanted, honoring whatever silly request I may have had. And I loved it. It was great. Not only did it feel real, but I was gladdened that it was real. I loved having her over here to take care of me. It felt right, like what a normal friend would do for someone.

I think that's what I hate about dreaming while you're sick. It makes you think of the things that you wanted and wished for while your guard's down. Normally, I would block it out as wishful thinking. I'd wake up in the morning and I'd acknowledge it was all a dream. I could go about my day, thinking it was no big deal. But, when you wake up from a lucid dream while you're not feeling well, it feels wrong. It actually feels like something or someone has been taken away from you. You wake up feeling confused and disoriented. It doesn't matter what you dream about. You could dream about being away on vacation in Hawaii or talking with your long-dead grandmother. When it's while you are sick, you always wake up feeling cheated. And nothing sucks worse than when the thing you dream about is something that you haven't had for awhile... or ever.

I mean--there's a lot of people I've dreamt about taking care of me when I was sick. I once dreamt that Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer took care of me once while I was sick. Yet she made more sense taking care of me than Breanne does. It's like I expect fictional characters to be able to take care of me, but I don't expect that from her. There's something wrong in that logic and I can't quite place my finger on what it is. I suppose it's just that in some areas I have high expectations for her, but in others, like being able to comfort me while I'm ailing, I have absolutely zero expectations for her. Like I said, there's something wrong in that logic.


dreams of loneliness

The fourth reason, and the one I hate most of all, of why I hate being sick is that it only reminds me of how alone I am. Nothing is worse than being alone while you're sick. Nothing.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Little Darling, I Feel That Ice Is Slowly Melting, Little Darling, It Seems Like Years Since It's Been Clear, Here Comes The Sun, Here Comes The Sun

--"Here Comes The Sun" (cover) - Nina Simone

When I was fifteen there were three things I told myself I would never do--I would never drink, I would never smoke, and I would never do drugs. I rationalized it that it was a healthier lifestyle and that I didn't need any of these three things to make my life better. In some respect that may have been true, but the real reason I didn't ever wanted to get started on any of those vices was because at an early age I recognized I had a problem getting obsessed about things. From collecting memorabilia to watching television, when I found something that pleased me I almost invariably did it to excess. This was all well and good when it was something mundane like buying Magic: The Gathering cards. That may have made me broke, but it wasn't going to kill me. Any of those three things, however, if I got hooked, it very well might have.

I started drinking rather late. Breanne had been introduced to her first taste of alcohol at eleven or twelve. It took me till I had just turned twenty-one to take my first sip. But even then it was always one or two drinks to last me five, six, or even seven hours. I wasn't anywhere close to being buzzed, let alone drunk.

It took until 2004 and I went to Dallas with my cousin Vincent to have my first taste of really getting trashed would be like. I don't know why I did it, but I think it had something to do with the fact that I have no real reason to be afraid of getting drunk except fear. I got tired of telling myself it was strictly a health reason when everything about me--getting to the gym less often than I should, eating absolutely horrible things, and visiting the doctor about as often as Hailey's Comet--testified I really wasn't a big health nut. I got tired of just being afraid to do something because of what may happen to me. So, yeah, I get obsessed about things, but that time, during that trip, I decided that at some point I would have to grow up. At some point in my life I would have to learn self-control and it might as well start with an activity that was fun and socially accepted.

I can't say I ever started drinking like a fish, but, more often than not now, I'll order a beer or two with dinner. Also, every so often, I'll really cut loose and get into my bourbon. I've learned to moderate myself and I think I've pretty handily overcome my fears when it came to drinking and getting drunk.

Last week, I faced another test when Carly invited me down to her town to hang out. She mentioned something about going to a hookah bar, a concept I was totally unfamiliar with. I agreed to it anyway because I trust her judgment implicitly--probably more than I should, but she's yet to steer me wrong.

That night the two of us went to dinner, talked, did some shopping and generally had a good time. Yet the whole time in the back of my mind I was visualizing how I'd excuse myself out of actually going through with the smoking. I didn't want to disappoint her or seem like a total prude, but I'd yet to overcome the stigma that smoking still held for me. Even more than drinking I was sure, dead sure, that I would never even try smoking anything. It didn't hold any interest for me. It didn't look like very much fun. I didn't want to get caught up in that scene.

As the night went along and I grew more comfortable being around her again, it became less important to me to hold onto my high moral ideals and more important for me to not let the fun end.

When the time came to start smoking the mixed berry-flavored smoke, I was hesitant at first. It irritated my throat. I kept having to drink water in between puffs. It didn't look to be something I was going to enjoy. I just hoped I didn't bring down the conversation with my obvious lack of ability. For her part, Carly never said word one about how clutzy I was or how I uncomfortable I seemed. I kept at it, though, because this was something she liked to do and I really did want to give it its due diligence. I wanted to be able to tell her that I gave it a fair shot and that it wasn't for me.

After the first hour passed and I was still at it, I began to realize it wasn't that bad. Once I got used to it, it really was an interesting social activity. Sitting around the table, sharing smokes with one's friends, engaging in good conversations, wasn't the worst waste of my time I've ever experienced--far from it. In actuality, it was one of the most stress-free nights I've had in a long while.

After the second hour I couldn't even remember how awful those first few minutes were.

Into the third hour, the night began to wind down and I realized I'd survived my first smoking experience. I didn't keel over. I didn't have to be rushed to the hospital. I'd made it through the other side.

More than that, though, I came to the realization that there are a lot of experiences that I've closed myself off to without a really good reason why. I've been shy to jump into things that I don't know about and I've been stand-offish to a lot of friends and family members who only wanted me to open up a bit more.

Sure, it may have just been another case of a pretty girl talking me into doing something I thought I was dead set against, but I don't think that's quite it. I think it has more to do with the fact that I'm not some scared fifteen-year-old any more. I'm old enough to realize that there a lot of mistakes I haven't made yet and to try avoid messing up is no way to live your life. It's a lot more enriching to sample everything life has to offer, even if it means a few bad clams here and there, instead of only sticking with what you know. Sure, you'll be a lot safer that way, but I don't think that's really living.

Sometimes you've got to ask yourself if the juice is worth the squeeze before you do anything... and sometimes you've just got to squeeze anyway.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Sugar, Ah Honey, Honey, You Are My Candy Girl, And You've Got Me Wanting You

--"Sugar, Sugar" (cover), Mary Lou Lord with Semisonic

Serendipity is a funny concept for me because it seems my life is flush with it. Part of the reason why I write on this site is to chronicle just exactly how strange life sometimes is for me. Events, places, and especially people have a habit of becoming motifs in my life without my realizing it. One minute I'm remembering how a certain anecdote with one of my friends when, a few weeks later, something totally superfluous to the original conversation will bring up the subject again. That's why I think of life as something resembling close to Quantum Leap's balled up string theory, where every moment in one's life can and often does intersect every other moment in that same life.

It's my belief that even my smallest actions have repercussions that I cannot possibly forsee. More to the point, these repercussions would make no sense were I to be explained exactly how that one decision will inevitably change the course of my life. For example, in 1995 I bought an innocuous album called Saturday Morning Cartoon's Greatest Hits because I was always a big fan of Saturday morning cartoons and an album full of current band covering the theme songs sounded like a no-brainer to me. As I began to listen to the album more and more, one song struck an especially resonant chord with me. "Sugar, Sugar" by Mary Lou Lord with Semisonic not only became my favorite song on the album, she instantly became a singer who I wanted to get to know better. The following week after getting that album I bought the only CD I could find of hers, the eponymous Mary Lou Lord EP.

Ten years later and she has become the premier singer-songwriter for me. Any album she ever puts on, any show I can attend, I lap it up. In my eyes that woman can do no wrong when it comes to music.

Yet to this day it still spooks me that, had I not thought the idea of rock stars covering cartoon theme songs hilarious, I may have never heard her in the first place. The initial purchase was so spur of the moment, I very much could have gone the other way and thought the whole idea frivolous. I was this close to losing out on being inspired by a great talent.

I tell you that small anecdote to tell you this development. In 1991 I got lost at Epcot Center. That story in itself was a memorable piece of my history. Not only was it the only time I have ever been separated from the people taking care of me for more than six hours, but it was also the first time that I ever met, knew, and said good-bye to someone I wanted to know all in the same day. I mean--I've met plenty of people I've been introduced to by friends or family, but Brandy was the first person that felt like a complete span of a friendship in the course of a day. She was Celine to my Jesse. It was a random encounter that I've never forgotten even though, from the outside, it didn't appear to be much of anything.

Flash forward to September 15th, 2006 and I'm checking my e-mail when I find this curious note there:

Dear Patrick,

You're probably wondering who this is. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure why I'm writing this. I was directed to your site by a friend of mine who browses blogs, something I never do. She was struck by the similarity in a story about getting lost at Disneyworld you posted a year ago and the story along the same lines I told her in confidence one evening. Weeks later she told me of her discovery and asked if I had ever kept in touch with you (if it is the same you, which I'm thinking it is). I told her no. That's when she suggested I go ahead and read the story and see if it made sense with my version.

Well, I did and it does.

I'm not sure what to expect here. I'm not sure what I'm after. Frankly, it's more of a curiosity factor than anything else that is prompting me to contact you. Personally, I'm hoping it's you. You, indeed, did a kind thing for me once and I've been curious to see whatever become of you. Now, after reading some of your stories, I can see for myself.

I'm attaching a picture of myself to jog your memory.



So let me know if I'm correct in my assumptions. Write back or don't, it's your choice. But it would be amazing if it's true we finally found each other after about fifteen years. It might even be some kind of record.

Brandy P.

P.S. - Write me back here at this e-mail address. It's not my personal one, but I do check it. I wanted an alternative place to write from in case I'm way off the mark and you're wondering who exactly I am. If it turns out I'm correct, I'll send my real e-mail.

I don't know if it's her, but it sure sounds like her. Plus, the way my life goes, I wouldn't be surprised if she joins the ever-growing list of people like DeAnn, Jina, and Breanne who, at one time, I thought I would never hear from again and who suddenly decided to find me out of the blue. This whole time I was sure I hadn't made as big of an impression on her as she did on me, that she had forgotten the whole incident.

It turns out doing nice things does come back to you somehow. People forget about all of the thousand times they've been slighted in their life, but the times when people actually do something from the heart as one person helping out another person in trouble, those are the times that people remember. And, as aforementioned in the opening of this post, serendipity and me just go hand-in-hand. I truly believe, if anyone else had helped her out that day, she would have never found her guy. It's only because I put myself out there, leave myself open all over the internet, that people can find me so easy. Yes, I still think there is a level of randomness involved in my re-connecting with all these people after all these years.

But the truth is this has been part of the reason why I write here and why maintain a myspace site, so that people who I want to find me, can. It may be chance that these people stumble upon me, but it isn't chance that some of them end up becoming fixtures in my life.

It's just like the record. It may have been cartoons that led me to discovering Mary Lou Lord, but it's my wanting to keep her in my life that led me to doing just that.

Will Brandy take her place among this echelon?

I guess the answer is we'll just have to wait and see...

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

It Goes Dark, It Goes Darker Still, Please Stay, But I Watch You Like I'm Made Of Stone, As You Walk Away

-"A Night Like This", The Cure

why I couldn't sleep last night

TWILIGHT TIME
a poem by E. Patrick Taroc

Such great heights do not haunt my sleep,
Thoughts of death do not cause my shaking,
And withering away my years
Is not what gives light to my fears.
It’s in the company I keep
That my rampant turmoil returns;
It’s for that ghost that my soul burns,
The nightmare witch of my waking.

I shall never have her kiss--
That is my sleepless misery,
That is to be my restless fate,
To be sealed in this searing state.
For my nightmare consists of this--
In silence hearing my screaming,
Forever laying awake dreaming
Of the girl not dreaming of me.

(09/18/06) Copyright 2006 E. Patrick Taroc

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

The Rest Of My Life Is So Hard, I Need A Photo Opportunity, I Want A Shot At Redemption, Don't Want To End Up A Cartoon, In A Cartoon Graveyard

--"You Can Call Me Al", Paul Simon

last week at Kerri Ray's very belated birthday dinner...

MS - So are you saying that without consequences that ethics get thrown out the window? Or are you saying that without consequences that one can sublimate one's code of ethics?

KR - More the former than the latter. It's my assertion that were people allowed to express their most base desires, without fear of repercussions or prosecution, those people would fail to do the right thing more often than not.

MS - So in your example how would that be applied?

KR - Well, using murder as an example, if one could do away with an individual that was despised with full assurances she would never be convicted then there would be more murders. Consequences dictates behavior.

MS - I see your point and I do agree with it, but I think you have to make allowances for a collary to your theory.

KR - Being?

MS - Being that I believe that, if people could gain the results they desire without having to go through the process, I think they wouldn't be so hesitant to want for unethical results either. It's kind of akin to the theory that people will always take the easy way out. If it's easier to do away with someone that annoys you than allow them to live, then that person would be killed every time.

KR - Granted, there is something to be said about that, but how would this correspond to my example. How can you kill someone without murdering them?

MS - Well, what's the practical result of killing someone? Not their death, but their disappearance. It follows then that, if there were some means by which to do away with someone without them actually having to be killed, there would be no ethical gray zone. If you could literally make someone disappear at the touch of a finger then there would be no qualms about quote-unquote spilling their blood. I'm not afraid to say that such an approach would cause me no uneasiness in the least.

KR - But wouldn't there be some conscientious objection on your part to the loss of life even if it isn't the actual ceasing of life through physical means?

MS - No more so than the loss of life without societal judgment. In either case there exists a state of apathy on the part of the test subject. In your case, he is apathetic to his own moral code. He knows it's wrong because he feels it's wrong, but, because society does not judge one way or the other, he feels secure in his decision to commit the action. In my case, he feels he is still within his ethical boundaries. He did not take a life so he is not a murderer in his eyes. In my case, he is apathetic to the results themselves. He produces the same results, but through less guilt-inducing means.

KR - What we're basically saying is that were we presented with the opportunity to rub someone off without fear of being charged, we'd both not hesitate? That's rather scary.

MS - But the difference is I wouldn't kill anyone.

KR - And I wouldn't be guilt-ridden because I'd be allowed to persist in complete honesty with my actions.

MS - What if we were to move it to something less adversarial?

KR - Such as?

MS - Relationships?

KR - And since when isn't love or our approximate represantation of it not adversarial? Wasn't it just a few decades ago that songs were written about how love is a battlefield?

MS - That's evasion and you know it.

KR - So the idea is that, if one could have a relationship following one of our two models, how would that be accomplished? Then, establishing that, which would be the more favorable of the two? Hmmm. Intriguing.

If we were to apply such conditions to my model it would approximate a relationship which could proceed along without resolute feelings being attached to a relationship. The relationship would have to be billed "as is" and no subsequent attachment would have to be agreed upon before the relationship could be entered into. It would be like a No Buyer's Remorse clause placed onto the affair, but instead of not being able to sell back the relationship, there would be a ban on commenting on or retaliating against the other member of the relationship should that relationship cease due to whatever cause may arise.

MS - And in my model it would have to be some manner of relationship where one could no longer be with an individual without actually having to break up with them. It would have to arise out of some sort of amnesia condition where, according to the other member in the relationship, as you put it, the relationship never existed. Same result, less combative means.

KR - I think I would draw the line at playing with actual human attachment, though. That's a little like playing with fire. The whole point of having a relationship with someone is to have that capability of feeling something substantial, of feeling at all. Taking feeling out of the equation, in my mind, would disqualify that arrangement as being a real relationship according to conventional standards.

MS - You're right, of course. I mean--we're both just playing Devil's advocates here. There has to be guilt and conscience and remorse to have any real connection. I could not imagine being chained to a relationship of convenience, where nothing could go wrong because, if it did, the relationship could be erased like last week's taping of 24. There has to be some sort of stakes to have any real shot of winning big.

KR - Which means the opposite must be correct as well. There has to be some sort of reward to have any real shot of losing something meaningful.

MS - And what of the middle ground? What of those relationships that don't really have any room for improvement or degredation? What do you make of those?

KR - I think such a relationship is transient in nature. All conditions, if placed in the universe we live in and subject to the same natural laws we abide by, do not remain fixed. A relationship is doomed to succeed or compelled to failure.


if you'll be my bodyguard
I can be your long lost pal

MS - But your definition of success might differ from someone else's?

KR - Such as yourself?

MS - Possibly. I mean what if I were to propose that every time a man and a woman connect at a basic level that I do not believe a successful relationship doesn't always need be a romantic one? Where is written that every successful venture end with the same result every time? That'd be like saying the only successful people are those who graduate college and get married before thirty. If you were to use that definition, I'd have no hope of ever being successful. I don't think there's a hard line when it comes to a successful relationship.

KR - I think there is a hard-line when it comes to relationship. And I think it's when two people are of a like mind when it comes to their perspective of the relationship. When one individual wants a more intimate progression and the other discounts any such future being possible that, in my mind, constitutes a failed relationship.

MS - It's not that I don't believe such a fate isn't the ideal, but sometimes what's ideal and what's possible are not intertwined.

KR - And what if they are?

MS - Then I would have to refer back to the earlier argument you made, an individual's perspective about relationships, even the relationship he may be in, does not remain fixed. There's always a shot at redemption, always a possibility that his perspective may change.

The one basic law of human nature is that no one chooses to be alone; it's pretty much chosen for him. That basic need can and has led to an individual forsaking any clinical detachment to what he believes he wants in order to actively gain what he subconsciously desires.

KR - That's good. I would very much hate to think that two people who seem well-suited can be driven apart for frivolous reasons such as principles.

MS - And I would hate to think that two people who seem well-suited can be driven apart for frivolous reasons such as momentum.

KR - Then we're in agreement?

MS - As much as the two of us ever are. I believe you've hurt my brain again, Miss Hamilton.

KR - And I believe your mind will heal with the arrivial of a fortuitous chocolate-laced concoction, Mr. Taroc. Summon the waiter and I shall expect some frivolous nourishment awaiting me when I return from the ladies' room.

MS - Thy will be done.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Sometimes We Laugh, Sometimes We Cry, Sometimes We Hurt Inside And Don't Understand Why, We're Only Human

--"You Are The Best" (Carole King cover) - Whittni Wright

Apparently, I'm a latecomer to the party that is lonelygirl15, but watching it last night brought to mind one of my biggest beefs with the manner in which we, as a people, conduct ourselves. I happen to think the videos she puts out, disgenuine as they may be, are still comparitively entertaining and well-thought-out in comparison to most of what passes for entertainment these days. I think what the creators are trying to do is original and, though the execution may be a bit dodgy at times, for the most part, I think they have succeeded in garnering interest and attention for whatever future endeavors these episodes may be setting the audience up for. More importantly, I think the "episodes", or what have you, are plainly amusing. I don't look for her to be anything more than that. I'm not out to critique its social ramifications for art in general or how it's yet another example of the media attempting to manipulate the audience.

I think watching the videos are just fun.

It all ties into my philosophy of the Crow, "if it makes you happy, then it can't be that bad." It's why people have guilty pleasures, because there are always going to be examples from the media that I, as an individual, am going to like which 95% of the rest of the world isn't going to like. I don't have to like everything you like and you don't have to like everything I like. Sometimes you have to just learn to dislike each other's opinion without resorting to disliking the other person. People are full of nuances and subtleties springing from how they were raised, what influences they were exposed to, what friends and family members they had, and especially what they have learned from trial and error to provide them the most bliss.

That's why I can say that I really have no shame when it comes to entertainment. I probably listen, watch, and read what qualifies as crap more than any other individual on the planet. I will plumb the depths of obscurity, esotericism, and pure oblivion, and discover nuggets of quality that most people have come to see as rubbish. Yet all of that doesn't bother me. I have come to expect that at least 50% of the things I like not very many others will. I accept that. In fact, I welcome that. I have always strived to make myself happy before all others which engenders a certain self-interest. It's not that I'm trying to stand out; it's merely that I have no interest in fitting in.

For example, when it comes to movies, I possess as my favorites some real inappropriately beloved films in my collection. My favorite is and probably forever will be The Wizard. I'm a sucker for most romantic comedies, especially the so-called chick flicks, and especially the Hugh Grant/Working Title variety. Yet I also call some of the masterpieces, like Casablanca, Gone With the Wind, and Chinatown as some of my personal favorites too. I have been known to laugh harder than I should at films like Jackass and Beerfest, but I also like intelligent films like L.A. Confidential and Memento. I can and probably will again make a double feature out of two disparate movies like Hard Candy and You, Me, and Dupree. Hell, I might even do what I did with Camp Nowhere and go see it five days in a row, at the theaters, paying for each ticket. I'm that reckless and impulsive.

But that's what I mean. I don't mind telling you all that because it's my personal preference as to what constitutes good entertainment and what movies will probably have an emotional impact on me.

Especially in the latter category, one never truly knows what movie shall tug at one's heartstrings. I've seen many sad and emotionally distraught movies. Movies like Schindler's List and Ice Castles have all made me tear up at one time or another. I've been to movies where my date and I have ended up bawling right next to each other because it seemed the whole crowd was crying at the same time. I think the last time that happened was at Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Yet for all the movies I have seen, including classic weepies like Steel Magnolias, Terms of Endearment, and Beaches, none of those movies still absolutely kills me like they did when I first saw it. Only one movie to this day can do that.

That movie is I'll Do Anything (1994) with Nick Nolte and Whittni Wright.

I don't know why I took to this movie like I did. Maybe it's because of the relatable plot of a father who's on the downturn of his career and life having to sacrifice what he wants to make his daughter happy. Maybe it's because the whole movie is just cheesy and sentimental enough to make me blush like a schoolgirl. Or maybe it's because the sappiest moment really does sneak up on you. Whatever it is, when I get to the end of the film, where Nick Nolte's character gives up being with the woman that's a total bitch, yet is attracted to him; gives up on his career as a lead film actor; and gives up all sense of the person he used to be for his daughter, Jeannie, I know the emotions are all going to hit me hard. Sappy as it is, when Jeannie, who had been worrying for a good portion of the film about being able to cry on cue when called upon, is sitting there, unable to do it, unable to cry, I feel her frustration. Then that first tear starts to roll, she begins to well up, her face begins to redden, and then she starts to cry in earnest--all the while her father begins to beam with pride. Then she says her line, but, instead of rushing to the woman who is playing her mom on the television show she is performing on, she rushes to her dad off-stage I cannot help but laugh.

He tells her that he loves her and that he'll never stop loving her. She gets this surprised, then pleased expression on her face. Then she says the line that seals the deal as the most memorable moment from a film ever for me.

"When I had to cry," she whispers right into his ear, "I was thinking of someone taking me away from you."

That's all it takes. That one little scene absolutely kills me every time I see it.

I think that's what all good entertainment is supposed to do, make an impact on the person watching it regardless of what other people around him may saying or how they may be reacting. I'm fairly sure no one else has the same reaction I do to this movie, but it doesn't change the fact I do. I'll Do Anything will always have a special place on my shelf.

I'm not saying Lonelygirl15 will ever occupy the same special place, but it is something to enjoy despite what the masses may think of it. It entertains me and that is all I ever need to know.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Ah, But The Pardons Never Come From Upstairs, They're Always A Moment Too Late,But It's Entertainment, Keep The Crowds On Their Toes, It's Justice

--"It's A Hit", Rilo Kiley

ORDINARY MOMENTS IN HIS ORDINARY LIFE
a story by e. patrick taroc

He’d been stood up again. Much in the same way the first fourteen times had stung, he was feeling the sting of her betrayal now. It was a dull ache, stemming from the inside of his lungs and extending to his outer extremities, and, as such, he didn’t exhibit any of the signs of man who seemed troubled. In fact, most of the people he had passed his way out of the office building hadn’t noticed anything amiss. What they had seen was a man in his late twenties who seemed very focused on his task and very impatient to get to it. They would have seen what they wanted to see, the world in its place for everyone other than themselves.

Yet he was troubled and his erratic driving towards the McMillans’ house bore witness to that. He had a job to do, but something in the manner in which his day had began had confirmed that today was going to be a long one.

Of course, he wanted to call her. He wanted to find out what exactly her excuse was. He knew better, though. He knew that would only serve to antagonize the relationship further and he knew that he was better off waiting patiently, as he always did, for her to make it up to him.

He reached the McMillans’ house without incident, however. Nice house, he thought, as he stepped out of his black Lexus and onto their front lawn. The house floated comfortably on a sea of green, a lawn obviously well-maintained and cared for. It was flanked by hedges that seemed to be more natural extensions of the house itself than mere decoration. As for the house itself, it was a humble home—well, as humble as a three-story Edwardian residence can be—painted in ashen grey hues and trimmed with forest green. It was exactly the kind of home he had hoped to own someday—if he could ever find the right time to ask her to share it with him, that is.

He rang the door bell and was escorted inside by the lady of the house as if he were royalty. When he sat down she offered him high tea in the most unique teacups he had ever seen. They were dainty with an illustration of a grasshopper on each one so life-like he imagined that they could come right off the cups at any time. He accepted. Also, when she offered him the scones she said she had baked herself, he had no choice but to accept those as well. He watched as she took a sip of tea herself and sat down.

“I really must apologize for my husband. He’s rather kind of upset about today and this whole business about why you’re over here,” he heard her say, straining at the pleasantness he figured on a normal day would not be so forced.

“It’s understandable. It’s rough work for both you and me, I assure, ma’am.”

He smiled and she smiled. They sat in silence, eating their foodstuffs and sipping their tea, for a moment before their silence was broken by the clanging of the grandfather clock in the front hallway.

“Two o’clock already?” she asked. “Where has all the time gone today?”

“I know what you mean, ma’am. I’m counting the moments until my day is done.”

“Did you have big plans?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, yes,” he told her. What he didn’t tell her was that those same plans had been cancelled an hour ago. He also didn’t tell her that now he would probably go back to his empty townhouse and risk calling her all night. He really didn’t want to pick a fight, but he also wanted her to know that he felt it important to keep plans once they had been made. He thought she knew this already so his debate arose out of whether or not one more reminder would be too many.

“Plans are good. My husband and I have always been big planners.”

“Have you?”

“Oh, yes. Every night is an adventure with him, as they say.”

“That’s good. It’s always good to have that excitement in a relationship.”

He took another bite of scone. He looked around the parlor. Even it was decorated meticulously. A baby grand was placed in the corner of the room facing the window and in the opposite corner was a bureau, where upon its surface were placed at least a dozen photos of the lady, her husband, and their teenage daughter. Even the frames on the wall, amid the fine paintings by artists he had never heard of, contained other pictures of the family. Little moments of bliss surrounded by ostentatious presentations of their impeccable taste. He thought it rather like living in a museum, where the spectacle of artistry was accentuated with small touches of homelife. He envied them for their precision. They knew exactly how everything was supposed to look and feel, everything so carefully designed to put forth the best possible image.

Yet here he was to shake up the image. There were times when he felt like the villain in the story and today was beginning to look like one of those times.

Just then, the woman’s husband decided to join them. He came with weariness in his eyes, the red in them unmistakable. There was a softness about him that the man hadn’t been expecting. It came with the job, the sadness, but after seeing the lady of the house’s resolve, he had assumed that the man of the house would employ the same tact. He stood up, shook the man’s hand, and the three of them sat.

The husband started directly with the discussion, wasting no time with pleasantries.

“How can you live with yourself, doing what you do?” he heard the husband ask.

“Honey, now’s not the time,” she tried to say.

“It’s alright, Mrs. McMillan. Your husband has a right to be upset. It’s understandable,” he repeated again calmly for their benefit. “This isn’t an ordinary visit and it usually requires a bit more than ordinary explanations.”

The strange part was it was an ordinary visit for him. He made eight to ten visits like this every week. It was part of his job. It was part of his routine. It was a good deal of his life. Yet to tell them that he’d been through this procedure hundreds of time in the last few years would be insensitive of him. He needed them to know that he had a heart and that he didn’t relish intruding upon their happy life. He had a job to do. They had agreed to what had to happen. It was all nothing more than business.

“Sir, I don’t take any sort of pleasure in my job other than the satisfaction of a job done well. I don’t particularly like hurting others or even inflicting pain on anyone. I’m a decent person and I’m just trying to do the decent thing for all parties. I have been tasked by my employers to fulfill a certain role just as you have been tasked by your honor and by the contract you signed to fulfill your financial obligations. I am not asking for anything extraordinary or even expected. I’m just asking for what’s owed to us. I’m just asking for the process to move along as painlessly as possible.

“That’s how I live with myself. That’s how I do what I do. It’s nothing personal against you nice folks. It’s strictly business.”

At this the husband proceeded to get off his seat and pick up one of the cups. He then threw it at the man’s head, missing by a matter of inches.

“It is personal. You can’t say it isn’t. You’re ruining our whole lives here. That feels personal to me. That is personal to me.”

“I can’t control that, sir. I’m only the humble employee of the company that you agreed to do business with. I didn’t ask for this job, just as you didn’t ask for the situation to be as it is. There are a lot of things in my own life that I wish were different. But I do what all of us must do, endure whatever trials are set before me with a modicum of discipline.”

As he came to the end of his sentence, he felt his cel phone ring. That’s when he saw the familiar name across the display.

“Excuse me, I must take this,” the man said as he retired to the foyer.

It was her. She had messaged him with a few sentences, but those few sentences spelled out a small sign of hope that today would not be as bad as he originally envisioned:

i’m sorry. will call later.

He texted her back quickly that there wasn’t any big hurry and that he loved her. He wanted to tell her a dozen other things, but he was still on the clock and he still had a soon to be distraught couple to deal with in the other room.

He stepped back into the parlor, sneaking a quick glance at the wife now doing her best to calm her husband down. Her wrinkled hand spoke of how much her marriage had taken out of her, but her weathered smile spoke of how much it had given her. When she spoke, after the man had sat down, he knew she was speaking for both her and her husband.

“We’re not begruding you your job, Mister. We’re merely trying to get accustomed to what our new life is going to be like, how we’re going to fill this hole once it’s there.”

“I know what you mean. Every time I do this it never gets any easier. I assure you we’ll take good care of her and maybe in a few months’ time the three of you will be reunited. I have high hopes this isn’t going to be a permanent solution.” He smiled.

“I’ll get her ready,” the husband said, trying his best not to lose it all. “I think she’s almost packed anyway.”

When he had left the room, the wife attempted to explain their situation to the man.

“It’s been a rough few years. We fully intended to keep up with our payments, but sometimes God has other intentions for your time. No matter what we tried, we just couldn’t come up with the money. We should have never taken out that loan with your company. It was reckless of us. The price was too high. But we were desperate. We only wanted to do what was best for her and we thought we had. This house, this life, we’ve only ever tried giving her the best.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Mrs. McMillan.”

“Do you have somebody in your life that you’ve been so desperate to take care of that you did the most foolish things in order to accomplish that?”

He thought about it for a second, but he already had the answer in his mind.

“There’s this woman I know. She doesn’t always show it, but I know she loves me a great deal. In the last few years it’s been hard finding the time to always be with her as much as I’d like. It’s been hard realizing that things are never going to be as comfortable and as exciting as I’d like them to be. It’s never going to be perfect.

“Yes, I’ve done some foolish things, committed some foolish deeds and said a lot of foolish things to her, but I’ve never wavered in my dedication to her. I’ve never been so desperate to keep her that I would ever think of…”

“Sacrficing her?”

He sighed. This was always the hard part. This was always the part where the customer’s desire to do what was best met his own perspective on what was right and was wrong. He couldn’t wrap his head around the notion of loving someone so much that you would put their well-being into someone else’s hands.

“Well, yes. I’ve been at this job awhile and I can’t understand why any of you do it.”

He watched her come around to his side of the coffee table.

“You’ll understand someday. You’ll understand that sometimes it’s not about doing what’s comfortable or what’s ordinary for a person. Sometimes, to show someone you love them, you have to be willing to reach for their extraordinary even if you lose everything, including them in the process.”

He nodded his head, but inside he was shaking it.

Nothing. There was nothing in the world that would ever lead him to conclusion that it’d be okay to use someone as collateral for a better life for all of them. There was nothing in the world that could convince him that someone he loved was able to used as a commodity under any circumstance. It was beyond his understanding.

However, it was his purview to make them all understand. There are consequences for actions and, when you flirt with desperation, sometimes you lose more than you bargained for.

“If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’ve made my peace with the ordinary life. I’ve made my peace with having someone in my life who I can’t give the extraordinary to. Because, you know what, at the end of day she’s still there and I’m okay with that.”

Just then the husband brought his daughter down the staircase. He watched the wife immediately run over to her and hug her. Their were tears in the girl’s eyes. He was sure they had explained the situation to her in the days leading up until today, but for her the reality of the situation never really sank in until now. He had seen this same act play out a hundreds of time—the teary good-byes, the promises that the circumstances would be rectified fairly soon, all of it. He did his best to smile, but it broke his heart every time.

After a few minutes, he interrupted the family.

“It’s time to go,” he said simply.

The couple turned around quickly, not even bothering to say good-bye to him. Perhaps they thought it was easier that way. As it was, he would have preferred shaking their hands and reassuring them that was a temporary arrangement. It was the one part of the job that he did enjoy, doling out that hope when the customers had none to speak of. It left him with the feeling that he was the good guy when everybody else out there was out to make him the bad guy.

As he took the girl’s hand in one arm and wheeled out her large suitcase with the other, he did his best to show his best upbeat demeanor. They walked out to the car together. He began to think of how long it would take him to get back to the office and then again of whether or not he would see her today. He decided that he would wait till nine or ten. If she hadn’t called by then, he would call her.

Just then, he felt the girl tug on his arm, trying to get away. He increased his grip on her and said a few words to let her know he wasn’t the bad guy here.

“Don’t be scared. Your parents love you and you’ll see them again in a couple of months, hopefully.”

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

how are [you]?

fall semester started a while back. i guess i've been a bit busy.

i looked at the new students, particularly the girls. they had such relaxed faces, maybe they were even excited. and on the other side, i overheard guys (who obviously weren't freshmen) say, "damn, she's hot."

*sighs* i wonder if the upperclassmen i liked during my first year were like that.

what exactly is there to look forward to at college on a superficial level? most of the "good" guys graduated already. XD i think felt the same way when i reached my last year in high school.

aside from that, i think i'll enjoy my classes, but i don't really like seeing some of the same faces everyday. you know, the kind you want to avoid. XD everyone must have those.

i'll deal with it for two more years.

i hope.

And Don't Forget That You Called It All Bullshit, Well, It Still Is And If You Stop Giving Into It, You Will Walk Away The Freest Man

--"The Freest Man", Tilly and the Wall


Normally, I cannot stand on-line quizzes. I hate how they try to boil your personality down to a famous Disney character or a song by Coldplay or any other of a half-million other set of choices. Most of the time when I see a blogging site employing quiz after quiz to fill space I tend to think that the author is too unoriginal to employ his or her own material. Quizzes and memes have truly become pet peeves of mine when it comes to the internet experience as I have found so many individuals who are crafting some highly intelligent and creative works, that all the fluff and dander of quizzes serves no point but to irritate and annoy.

That being said, there is one quiz I take every year and I make sure that my closest friends have at least taken once in their lives:

What Kind Of Leader Are You?

I can think of three reasons why I think the inclusion of this quiz in my post does not qualify me as taking the lazy way out. One, I wrote it myself from scratch. One thing you will never see on this site is me snatching someone else's quiz just to fill space. Two, I never intended this as a quiz many people would take. It started off as a supplement to a card game I was creating. In much the same way Magic: The Gathering has five colors, each with strengths and weaknesses, so did my game have twelve clans, each with strengths and weakness. Instead of picking a clan arbitrarily, I thought it would be a neat idea to take a short quiz to determine what kind of leadership style and, therefore, clan, suited one best. Third, I have seen this quiz is for more useful than for mere games. It has really been almost completely dead-on in showing me how a person is likely to face a serious obstacle as well as how a person handles responsibility for others.

For instance, if you take my friend Kerri Ray, she tested out as being a perfect fit for the Dragon clan. In the context of my game, the Dragon are governed by the theory that training and expertise lead to perfection. They succeed because there is really no outcome other than perfection in their minds. If that doesn't sound like her then I don't know what does. One can see in her everyday life she truly believes there is no room for error, no space for whimsy. For her there is only the goal and the quest for attaining that goal with sheer excellence in all areas--intelligence, decisiveness, and, most of all, focus.

On the other hand, Breanne tests out as a Mongoose, which, in the game, is a clan that believes in letting the opponent make the first move and reacting accordingly. They never instigate the conflict, but they sure as hell know how to end it. It's surprising that her results match up as they do with this clan because, given her penchant for avoiding conflict, I would have thought her inclination would be to the non-conflict oriented Crane clan. Yet, the more I reflected on her outcome, the more it made sense to me. For Breanne it isn't about running away from the problem because she's afraid to face it. For her it's about getting away from the conflict so that she may mount a more effective rebuttal. For her, she doesn't see the point in pounding away at an obstacle needlessly. She would much rather take a step back, see what exactly is barring her way, and figure out the best way to tackle it.

As for me, I don't think I could have received any other result but Wolf clan. In the game, that clan relies on outnumbering and throwing en masse their attacks at the enemy. I believe that's my approach to most problems. I tend to throw numbers at everything I do. I have a belief that I write at length because I'm searching for inspiration and direction, as if the more sentences I throw out there, the more opportunities I will have for actually composing something intelligently. Also, this approach can be plainly seen in how I used to date in my college days. I used to go out with two or three girls a week just because I knew some of them I wouldn't, some of them wouldn't like me, or that some of them would fail just because. I always called it the shotgun approach, as in you cover a big enough area and you're bound to hit something.

For most of my life it has always been a game of numbers. Why stay up till nine when I could stay up till midnight or even three? Why watch The Wizard once or even twice when I could watch it sixty-two times? Why stop at doing eighty when ninety is only ten miles an hour faster? I always thought that overkill was a myth propagated by people who didn't know how to have fun.

Lately, though, I'm beginning to see the fallacy in trying to overdo everything. It kind of ties into my beliefs on happiness. Most of the time I've done something extravagant it was because I was trying to impress someone. For example, I once bet a waitress fifteen dollars at a buffet in D.C. that I could polish off six full plates of food. I didn't need to eat that much and the fifteen dollars wasn't that big of a deal for me even then. The real reason I did it was to impress her and the friends I was eating with. I've always put myself out there, doing wacky things, doing things way over-the-top, or over and over again, because I thought it would garner the attention of people whose attention I thought I needed. Friends, family, or even strangers--for me it was always about trying to get them to notice me. That's the real reason why I think I tended to go overboard when it came to my day-to-day life.

Now, with the change in rationale for my behavior, of trying to impress only myself and of trying to find the joy in the small things, I tend to hold myself back when my first instinct is to go big. I no longer have to finish a huge meal just because it's there. I no longer have to call a girl three to five times a day just to say hello because I want her to know I was thinking about her. I no longer have to bring up how many times I watched this certain movie or that certain show. In the end, how often you do something doesn't really impress as much as how well you do something. That's what I've learned. I'd much rather be judged on the content of my character rather than the records I supposedly hold. Numbers are only remembered in athlectics. What really impresses someone on a day-to-day basis is how one presents himself when the day is mundane, even boring. One doesn't have to create excitement around oneself in everything one does to be exciting. One really can walk into a room and light it up just by being one's self.

That's the goal I'm trying to attain and that's how I'm trying to solve my problems from now on. I'm no longer trying to throw myself into a dilemma, attacking and attacking until I stumble onto the solution. I'm trying to allow myself the understanding that there are far simpler ways to solve my problem and to separate the doing of something significant from the publicizing of it. It used to be that I would set out to do something for the recognition. Now a lot of the things I do are for the simple satisfaction of completing it.

No, there isn't a clan for that yet. But maybe that's the point. Maybe I've started coming around to the idea that I don't need a group around me who thinks and acts like I do. Maybe I'm starting to accept the fact that I am an original person even if I'm the only person who knows it. It's alright because, in reality, I'm the only person that needs to know that.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

A Willow Deeply Scarred, Somebody's Broken Heart, And A Washed-Out Dream, They Follow The Pattern Of The Wind, Ya' See

--"Man In The Mirror", Michael Jackson

I came home today from my cruise to the news that two good friends of mine were in the midst of some fairly serious bouts of heartache. I may not have many talents, but I think I've always fared pretty well when it came to being able to listen to and console people I know who have lost love recently. Of course, I took it upon myself to offer the best advice I could and to let them know that my door, my phone, my e-mail was always open to them, but I found myself ineffective in "curing" whatever ails them. After all, how does one explain loss such as this? How can one explain to someone else, someone who had the stars once, why those stars burn out.

You can't.

I've burned some bridges in my time. I've also been the victim of cruel fate more than once. The one feeling that's remained constant through it all is the feeling that there is no pain greater than the one one is going through at that precise moment. It burns like a branding iron straight through your skin and one walks around the whole day with the sensation that it will never cease hurting, never cease scarring you to the bone. It's the kind of pain that I wouldn't wish on a dog I didn't like. The pain is so all-consuming that I don't even know any other kind of pain that quite compares to it.

I read somewhere that going through a break-up or a divorce is as stressful and as physiologically damaging as losing someone to death. It's that bad. Most people go around telling people in this situation that the pain will subsist in time, that it won't hurt as bad tomorrow as it does today. Most people attempt to look at the situation from having survived it and seek to give comfort to the people still in the eye of the storm by showing them that "if I can survive it, so can you." It's all well and good to provide that brand of assistance, but I don't think it's as comforting as giving them the straight truth.

What I've always believed and the advice I think people come to me for is the advice of someone who still remembers what it's like to lose someone great. That advice is that you never really forget the hurt, you never really forget the tears. It's stupid to think that a person can wake up one day devoid of sorrow for a relationship that obviously was important to them. Utterly stupid. There's a reason that person invested so much time and energy into spending time working at the relationship. There's a reason why that person cared so much. Nobody tries to have a bad relationship. Nobody wants that. The reason people stay in any relationship, bad or good, is that at one point they saw the fire that kept them warm and they would do anything to keep that fire going as long as possible. When one is without that kind of love, especially immediately after, one will do almost anything to get it back. And when one finds out that is nigh impossible, one experiences anguish on a scale heretofore unimaginable.

That is something that is not forgotten.

The best advice I've ever given someone is that, yeah, you'll remember the tears and, yeah, you'll remember the sorry, but you'll always remember the laughter more. It's just like the scene between Sara and Aunt Olivia:

Sara - I'd almost rather not be in love if it means being in tears all the time.

Aunt Olivia - Yeah, but you know what? You'll always remember the love more than the tears.

Sara - Really?

There really is no cure to sadness over a lost love. There is no magic elixir I can offer these two friends and make it all better for them. I can only do what I do, offer up myself as a willing ear to hear them out, a willing shoulder to cry on, and a willing voice to let them know that it only gets worse before it gets better. I hate seeing good friends crying to themselves over a problem that truly has no solution, but it's my belief that a good cry only makes a person more beautiful, more special. It takes a special heart to let someone in enough to cry over them when they are no longer there.

Some of us forget how rare that is and how lucky we are to even have that once. People forget that it's the tears that let other people know how love really is supposed to be.


who am I, to be blind? pretending not to see their needs

It's the tears that let other people know how truly prepared we are to have love once again.

Feel better, both of you.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers