So I tried to be Human again...

Last night, I made my attempt to embrace the flaws and the emotions that define the humanity within each and every person. The results of this large leap are yet to be determined. But my dreams tell me that I should be quite close to being disgustingly human that I should be crying any second now...

... and so it begins.

But you know what? Whatever.

I'm dancing in September.

So I got advice from a Sex-Crazed Guru

Oh, I lie not. For sure Lena Chen has made her mark on the internet world with her sensual and peculiarly personal entries regarding her sex life. And no, I didn't find any sexual inspiration from her. Thankyouverymuch.

I guess what I've taken from her is not exactly advice, but a smirk at how even she, the most sensually-fulfilled on the Harvard campus, feels the same disillusionment that seems to chronic to me now. In creating a post, it only seems natural to spill and reveal the ever darkening abyss that has replaced what little emotional care I've had. I've only recently read hers. From that...

I refuse to let this damned thing become the impetus for pity on my being. As lovely as care seems, it is pity and worry that I refuse to acknowledge. Really, now... I feel inferior enough already. Your sympathetic advice sometimes becomes all too overwhelming. Still, I extend hand in deep, deep gratitude. What saddens me about this though is that such a blog will not allow me great freedom. Sure, freedom of thought and speech... but there is still an audience, a reader, out there who must be addressed, who must seemingly be appeased.

Life is not so bad. Such a statement goes against the very core of my being. However. Pessimism is an extremely unhealthy way to continue living my life. I prefer reality, of course, but Hope is not so much a monster as I had imagined. That bitch actually saves me a tad from complete and utter apathy. And as many friends would know, from apathy, I fall into despair.

So you know what? I don't know... and so what if I don't know.

Life is not so bad.

NOTE: This will not put an end to the occasional bitch sessions that this little girl is prone to undertake.

I just realized...

... that I have a very bad habit of pushing people away.

It saddens me.--

I've just been thinking about certain things and (I'm quite sure that this has been established) the future really likes to be a bitch. Pondering about the course of my summer, it dawned on me how lonely it could possibly be.

Practically everyone is going to be gone. The loves of my life are all heading off with their own plans. The Deca kids, no doubt, have their own. And I just realized how empty my summer life will be.

Here's the last year of one of the worst phases of my life. I'm going to miss it terribly; I'm going to miss the people terribly. So why not go all out, right?

Right. But tell me this, how is that possible when everyone's gone? How am I to hold my own? Continuing conversations with friends? I hope you know how difficult that is. There are always claims of how people will keep in touch and what not... but really. Who's willing to do so?

I don't know anymore. This is much too much pessimism for me.

I'll have fun. Right?

So I felt like Writing...

April 26, 2007 5:51p

As I sit here in a remotely quiet corner of Starbucks, I've been given the incredibly lovely chance to think. Before I begin on my thoughts, I have to confess that I really enjoy having these chances to myself... even amongst people, strangers. Going home, I'm surrounded by pressure and absolute loneliness [in the form of four walls], leaving me in complete desolation, away from people and myself. Being around friends, however wonderful they are, I'm forced to always speak with them, a feat I find impossible or at least, quite difficult. I am a naturally quiet girl. It is quite incredible to have amazing friends who deal with the silence that I bear.

But here I am, amongst strange people, enjoying my very existence. The music, beautifully soft, allowed the fuel of caffeine to, ironically, sink comfortably into my very center. I am mellow. I have the chance to ponder; I love this moment. I am my element.

Yet my thoughts, however tranquil my body lies, sent pangs of sadness through my. What of my heart? Its existence is still quite questionable. But thoughts of him continue to haunt me. No, not Greg. A wonderful boy such as he can only bring me happiness. No, not Greg.

The other boy. The one who I've mentioned before, in quite an angry tone. The one whose being angered me completely. But despite those feelings, his kindness and patience toward me cannot be ignored. Yes, his intentions are questionable, but his actions are not. If you really couldn't tell, it's bugging me...

Of course, I'm still unsure of my opinion of him; they cannot be bad for the aforementioned qualities, but some hint of doubt render them as not wholly good. He is, after all, a fickle and utterly superficial guy, one of the worst I've ever met. Yet again... he's been kind.

Whatever.--

I confess that I've been extremely detached from people lately. The reasons for being aloof are still unknown, but they remain irrelevant. Ironically, such detachment has allowed me to be more friendly with more people. Blah.

My care cup is empty once again.

By the way, Al and I have really gotten into the whole "Trapped" and "Crimson Room" phase again. Fuuuuuun.

An Excerpt from Her Mind at 6:48a

When she first told me of his fanciful thoughts concerning me, I dismissed them wholly. Then, not only did I dislike his being, he and his opinions of me or of anyone meant zilch to me. By offending the loves of my life, he had offended me. And those are two things I let no one get away with. My feelings toward him were of negative apathy: a complete insult to his existence.

The second time he saw me with my love, he supposedly took fancy. Or so she told me. Again, I attempted to dismiss the thought from my mind since, of course, I felt disturbed. Not only had he just broke down the barrier and hatred that once allowed me to ignore him when I passed, but created a sort of obligatory kindness from me to him. No, it wasn't necessarily pity. Pity is something that no one should receive since it is one of the greatest slights one may incur, a feeling of inferiority. I attempted to be kind, but at first, it only meant an cessation to my evil thoughts of his demise. Hah, I'm kidding. Somewhat. Things went alright.

The third time, she burst out laughing when she told me of his infatuation. I felt something inside me die... out of pity. Not only was he clueless of how much I had loathed him, but of how bothersome I find his character. The complete opposite of what I subconsciously expect from a guy friend. He was loud, obnoxious, and extremely shallow beyond my belief. Because of this, my friends took great delight in his seemingly futile attempts to capture my attention. My main goal was to try and get on with life without letting him get in the way.

Little did I know that he has told her many things. To this day, I remain confused.

Now the tables have turned. I am the one who just can't stop thinking such thoughts of both infatuation AND dislike. Shame, isn't it? I may have taken a liking to a type of guy who will by no doubt break my heart.

Simply an Update

Prom was fun. I was crazy. Who wasn't?

... now I'm empty once again. To Jo of the Samaritans, please do your job and save me.

I was being evil at 1:51a

Prom's tonight. 'Nough said.

c[_]

How evil would it be if I confess that I've been wishing that little Zutton down there (the animated doll) would just starve and die?

Regrets at 1:14p

Right now, I'm trying my best to not regret the past four years at Granada.

Some may say that High School was the best time of my life. I, along with a few others, would like to contest that thought. But as I think about it, there are a lot of things that I could've done to make these years bearable.

Instead of the oh-so-nonchalant girl I am now, I probably could have cared a bit more about meeting new people and talking to those who sat around me. Instead of being that "Odd, Quiet Girl," I could've just been that "Odd Girl." It may not be much of an improvement, but it really is better than nothing.

Ah. I better stop this post now before I make your eyes cry in the horror of my language and diction.

Apologies. The English literacy and beauty does not come so easily to me as it does with others. Nothing does.

Drunken Slurs at 12:55a, not really.

Eh. 75-minute periods tomorrow are not something I look forward to, especially when tomorrow is a 1,3,5 day.

No first, TA for third, and AP prep for fifth.

I... am sad. So sad.

At 11:06a, I sent my Letter to the Man across the Sea

Open. That's one word I absolutely can no longer stand. You were one of my Five.

I hope things are going along well with your plans, for you are and always have been an ambitious boy, so restless, so unafraid. But because of that, you remained one the Five, ever dear and ever loved.

Last year, what I had not expected was this. I was happy but that was taken away, quite cruelly, in fact. But Four of you were there. But then it was You and I left on this desolate continent while Three had to be contented with the Sweet Sun of Italia and the Old Culture of the British Isles. Little did I know that you were going to join them.

No, I do not hate you. Quite contrary, actually. I had promised never again because of him, for you and others know how much he had meant. But I am young and fickle, and you had grown on me. You still are. And now I despise the word open. It only leaves a dry, dead husk of what was once something I contented myself with, comforted myself with.

You know I'm impatient, so hurry and succeed. I'm waiting.

--

And that's enough of that. That, I confess, was something I'm not entirely used to. Why? Because I'm an angry little girl who seeks nothing more in life but simplicity and happiness. No more complications please. Just bring him home.

At 9:52p, She Wondered...

... why did you silly little creatures follow me here?

Is it not enough that you've invaded my life? Now you invade my mind.

Help! Help! I'm Being Repressed!

I found my new Happy movie.

A Heavy Burden at 7:10p

Are you alright? You seem pretty quiet. What's the matter?

Silence. The absence of words and, through its connotation, the absence of thought and heart. My lack of diction at certain points in the day do not fall under the latter. In reality, it is actually the latter that causes my silence and the actual lack of care.

No dangerous thought plagues my mind and my heart is not yet succumbing to any sadness that many speak of. Random musings, as you should know, merely occupy that general area.

Sadly, I would've expected many to understand that I'm not a speaker in any sense of the title. I do not enjoy speaking as much as I do observing. Of course, there once existed a deep fear of the very act; verbal humiliation seems quite unbearable at times. But due to recent events, that fear may be suppressed. But just because I think and have opinions does not mean that I enjoy constant communication of them. Nor does it mean that I am without.

My silence has a purpose most of the time. I wish to get lost in my own thoughts and for a moment leave the reality in which I exist. Reasons behind this retreat may vary, sadness being only something minor. Being only 17, I can easily get bored, can I not? Can't I just muse around what-ifs and exist in the very microcosm that is my mind for only a second?

When these moments do occur, it's quite pointless to articulate them to ears that have been deafened by their own voice or loud music (not at all surprising; good job, guys). Aren't you tired as well? What is relaxation to you? Careful, careful. What are these words to people who won't listen?

So, no. I'm not sad (usually). I'm merely tired of the common and seek repose.

After all, I don't really care about the latest "it" couple on the campus. Scusi.

Late And Early at 2:07a

My alarm will ring at around 3:45a, which is only a little over an hour from now.

As much as I'd tried to go to sleep, I began to ponder upon the choices ahead of me, the choices that will very much affect the future I am to live. Why would I, Leslie, start to think of such things instead of saying "Fuck it"? The answer is quite simple. Someone told me.

Questions have always pervaded my mind and the answers always unattainable. The reasons for both never dawned on me despite my want to know them, to know everything. Thus, I began to seek the answers from others. I wanted to know. And this curiosity, as many would attest, is the demise of many. The idea that there are different types of knowledge is common from the classic intellectual curiosity so praised by the intelligentsia to the gossip so sought after by the common-folk. The information I wanted is nestled in the middle of these two extremes, fitting in no category.

Where exactly can "everything" go under? I wanted to explore life, to know what was ahead, the significance of history, just everything. By that vague term, I do not mean that my want is to be a genius or the center of the latest chatter. It was to know life, to understand it, and to understand what it was like to actually undertake it.

And this goal was not to be achieved and my curiosity left dissatisfied had thoughts of death and pain continued. Admittedly though, such thoughts are very hard to remove from one's psyche once they have entered. It may always, though unproven, remain rampant in the person's mind. But that is something that she must deal with the rest of her life. That is something I must deal with for the rest of mine. Instead of choosing the ultimate cessation of pain (the "relief" granted by the lack of the ability to feel it via death; ironic, is it not?), it only seems wise to consider all other options out there.

Though from my standpoint they may not seem favorable, there always seems to be way to climb out of the shadows. And now I'm beginning to sound like an idealist and foolish optimist. THAT is something I've always wanted to avoid. But despite my want to remain a realist (or hell, even a pessimist), I won't deny that the realization of other choices available for me will help in the future.

Moping about the what-ifs, and the coulda-woulda-shouldas will not get anyone anywhere. A common tale relayed by the ever-hopefuls and romantics (yet paraphrased in my normal harsh tone), it may prove beneficial to all despite the sugar-coated phrases surrounding it.

And with that, I really need to get some sleep. Buona notte.


Another Day In Paradise
©2007 ~Vladm

Musings at 11:24p

To be quite honest, I'm currently at a loss for words.

If you ever see me in the halls, forgive me for my silence.

I've nothing to say anymore. Sad.

Eh. Whatever.

Attempt at a Rebuttal

After having read Michelle's silly note concerning the amount of delusion one can get from video games, I decided that it would be quite fun to try and contest that.

Little did I know what I was getting myself into.

Rummaging through my closet (and a few dust bunnies that have settled in the undisturbed areas), I find the box that contained a lot of childhood memories, bittersweet or just bitter. And I found it. I found my weapon against Pug, Poonie, Poon-face, HP Poopie-face, Poopie-face, or Michelle: my old pal, N64.

I plug that baby up to my TV and am ready to show that that old demon no longer holds control over me. Now, before you get your undies all tied up, I know that Michelle mentioned specifically "children". Just to let you know, I have the mind of a 5-year-old. Why else would I be using this time to type about video games? I could be out saving the world, people. But no, I choose to... anyway.

Not exactly sure of the games that once kept my interest for more than 5 hours, I grab the one closest to the top of the pile: Diddy Kong Racing. The gear's ready, controller in hand (the clear purple one, because I'm pretty G), and I turn it on.

Wow.

Technology and graphics sure have come a looong way. Not only was the quality quite horrible, but the ultimate complexities were quite lost on me after having witnessed many video game sessions played out by my nephew on his latest goods. This game truly did belong in the '90s.

But as I bore with it, my purpose to prove Michelle wrong was lost amidst the sharply-angular characters. Yes, they may have their rough edges, but... they were completely adorable-- except for that crocodile/alligator. I wonder why "Crunk" keeps popping up as his name. Hm. But if memory serves me, my favorite then (and now) is Conker, that feisty little fox. In his white little car or his white plane, he never ceases to bring out the inner elementary-schooler within me.

And so it was off to races. I fell deeper and deeper, fully and subconsciously embracing the inner-child. It was fun.

And so, Michelle, I tip my hat to you. Although I don't think any of that MJ requires some sense of clear-mindedness, I give you this...

Drugs and apparently video games get people high.

Hockey at 1:00p with Eu and Al

Unfortunately, I am not as "manly" as I had once hoped to be. Instead of shedding this fragile facade, going to a hockey game only embedded the cosmopolitan way-of-life into my mind. Up until my exit from the car and was set in a backdrop of more than 700 Kings' fans, I had felt quite comfortable in being my quiet self.

Of course, one would expect me to feel quite detached from a game of padded men, sticks in hand, chasing a small disc of rubber (Oh, man; I hope many of you caught that). But not until I began to feed off of the energy and the, excuse me, testosterone-driven tension did I begin to take actual interest in anything.

Little did I know what was in store. Now, to get this cleared up, the teams that were playing (LA Kings v. Phoenix Coyotes) were in no way spectacular.

There were four fights in all. The first was quite uncalled for, two men just grabbing at each others' jerseys, wishing to take out the other in one blow. The response to that was quite enormous if I do say so myself (and what in hell do I know?). But as the fights and game continued to progress, the intensity seemed to have increased as well. By the third fight, I wanted to see as much of that violence as humanly possible.

All in all, 300 and this latest game made me want to do only one thing: to fight, and to do so like a man.

But to end on a lighter and, daringly, more feminine note:



I really don't think there's much I can say about Michael Cammalleri.

She Breaks My Heart

After reading the most recent of Anna's post, I only felt it right to post one in return.

Really, I've never met anyone kinder than she. You may see me proclaim that I have no best friends, that every single one, I hold dear. Yet I must mention that this is partly a lie. Yes, I hold my friendships close, but there are those who have touched this cold heart of mine and warmed my soul. And Anna mother-fucking Castro, you are one of them.

It will be easier to direct this one to you, since it would be easier to type down the truth. In all of our talks, early in the morning or in the deep night, you always bring me the comfort that you claim I give to you. You tell people of my qualities that I still believe I do not possess, but because of you, I'm beginning to believe you, little by little. But what you may not know is that all of this is because of you and your help.

Walking into our homeroom during that freshman-year, I heard you amongst the 29 other voices that echoed in Ms. Ballas' room before the announcements began. You stood out and you were unafraid. That, I admired about you and kept to myself, just taking in my surroundings as a frightened mouse of a 1st-year. But in my silence and isolation, you spoke to me and, hell, even lent me your book. I thought I've never met a kinder person.

From The Da Vinci Code stemmed our friendship.

I mustn't keep this long, but I just want you to know that everything I've admired about you is true. You've been there when My Boys began to dwindle in number. You even made up for the testosterone at times (you and I, both).

And you're right. It will take much more than a few damn states to keep us apart. A whole fucking lot more.

Coddamnit, Anna. You make me cry, my Banana Hammock.

J-6 fo' life.

Emails: Part 1

I don't exactly know where to begin. The day was actually quite short due to the fact that I've confined myself to my room for most of the day.

I'm happy to report that The Samaritans do answer the emails of those in need. Here is my first email to them.

April 5
To: Jo from The Samaritans
Hi.

I don't exactly know how to start this off or what exactly I should say. I don't even know what I'm feeling right now. But I trust that whoever is on the other side of this email will read what I have to type out.

There aren't many details I will or can relate to you. I've been alive for 17 years and for those years, I've never once thought of myself as unfortunate. Not once did any thought of dissatisfaction with my life enter my mind or soul. But feelings of hate have. Of course, not to anyone outside of this husk I call my body, just myself.

I know, I know. There should be nothing people hate about themselves, dislike, perhaps. But hate? No. So I've heard from countless people about others or themselves. But no matter what they say, such words do not stop emotions.

I'm content to say that I'm happy to have grown up with the childhood that has formed the person I am now. I'm also glad to say that I have wonderful friends of outstanding performance and charm. But all of this cannot stop my self-isolation.

I can uncover no reason as to why I feel the way I do sometimes. Whenever I'm light in spirit, I find myself wanting to experience apathy once again, to feel indifferent, to be empty. By not being happy, one mustn't have to deal with the disappointment of that fleeting happiness. Such is the way I've lived for the last 5 years. Failure after a heart-felt attempt presented itself as a crushing fear to me. I didn't want that. So what else was there to do but give up at the beginning? At least then, I knew I would fail.

With all of my heart, I wish I could say that that has worked. Of course, I've had small moments of happiness with friends. Yet knowing that my full potential is not being used only deepened that pit of sadness within me. I don't think I've mentioned this pit yet. For years, I've been contemplating my being, why I am who I am. I've discovered that, or actually, I've been led (by myself) to believe that I have good reason to think that nothing of mine was ever good enough, and because of that, there is no point. Hope, now, seems like a pathetic thing when in a sentimental mood. Only then do I full comprehend the meaning of Pandora's box. After hearing that story when I was 4, I first thought that Hope was a good thing. It wasn't until I started to slip that Hope turned into a monster.

The details of my life will be kept back from this email since the addition of them will further lengthen this. And I truly don't want to bother you with them. On the website, it was stated that someone was willing to "listen" to whatever I had to say... and to be honest, I really don't know what to say... so I'm typing down what I have so far...

Thoughts of suicide existed in my mind ever since I was 11. Being the quiet girl, I was picked on in middle school. Once in high school, it became my goal to change that. As the years progressed, I have climbed out somewhat from my little cave and greeted the outside world. But I confess that that cave's purpose (for isolation) became ever useful as I continued my high school life. I should have stated before that my emotions (and/or lack thereof) are ever contradictory. When I'm happy or sad, I wish to be indifferent. When I'm indifferent, I wish to feel. But when that indifference begins to yield to my wishes, I usually slip into grief. This, I cannot explain and because of that, I'm beginning to wonder if it is cause by some imbalance. I just don't know anymore.

Currently, I've just begun my fall into sadness and quite honestly, I don't believe I've ever felt like this before. It's different, and I find it quite fearful. My self-esteem seemed unaffected till now, my self-confidence is there when I'm in front of people. But behind closed doors and in the shadows of my mind, I feel an overwhelming urge to just sit down, think and try to not feel lonely. I'm afraid of other people and yet being isolated from those I care about is a saddening idea. As you would expect, thoughts about college haven't helped. Only recently have thoughts of self-inadequacy persisted. And I'm afraid that this time, I may not be strong enough to push such negative, lonely thoughts aside and be happy.

I don't want to keep you from the other emails that many others are sending so it would be best if I bring this email to a close. I'm just a person who wishes to find my own way to my own peace of mind. I just want to be fixed and I want to know that there are others out there who believe that I can be fixed.

Thank you.

I know it's too much to ask of you to not judge me. But for the sake of whatever lingering optimism there is in my mind; Please, do not judge me.

Self-Reprimand

Oh, Leslie. Why must you think such silly little thoughts?

Because I like BBQ Chicken. :)

EDIT: Isn't it quite amusing how one day I'm at some point in my life where only eating ice cream will suffice and one day, I just wish to kick ass?

Apparently, that seems to be the case this week. What a pleasant way to spend a period of relaxation: the oscillation between happiness and sadness. But again, whatever. (If this cruel cycle continues, I'll be back with those morbid notions at my heel).

Thoughts at 2:46a

Still getting the hang of it.

Funny how I went to bed at 11:30pm with hopes that I would be able to fall asleep. Little did I know that I would spend about 2 more hours thinking about several things from what I've spoken about earlier, what I've told people, and The Office.

I wish I could reiterate the musings that floated in and out of my mind, but sadly, that would take too long. Besides, some of them I feel too personal. Just to note, ever notice how I attempt to steer clear of any mention of my personal life? If memory serves, I know I've written on my views on things such as love and what-not, but I don't recall ever having written any of that pertaining to myself.

If you were wondering, yes, that was one of my many reflections this morning. I wish to avoid writing about topics that were covered by entries below this (most especially the those regarding my emotional state-of-being). There's not particular reason behind that choice; I just feel as if the right people have made their voices heard on the matter and I appreciate fully what they've told me. Cheers to you all.

Oh! I'm curious to know if anyone caught the new episode of The Office. Ah! It aired yesterday at 8p and I missed it. Hint: Spoilers will be greatly appreciated and loved.

And I think I change my mind. Here are a few things that floated in and out of the little void in my head:

1. Boys are funny creatures.
3. Girls are funny creatures.
4. I missed #2 (This one just hit me right now).
5. It's quite late, I better get to bed. That would be a lot easier now that I'm fairly tired.
6. Greg.
7. Need. A. Tailor.
8. What am I actually going to do with the rest of my life?
9. I don't think suicides an option...
10. I hope I hear back from those at the Samaritans Organization.

And with that, a second "Cheers" to end this damned thing. Cheers.

Trial A.

I tried.

jo@samaritans.org

We'll see.

Thoughts at 11:42p

After thinking about what happened this morning and actually trying out that helpline, I realized how truly sad I am.

Before you continue reading any further, I just want to let you know that I am by no means complaining about my state of life right now. Everything I have, everything I am I can be content with. Just believe it or not, grief can hit anyone at any time.

I've mentioned before the feelings of indifference (hah, paradox) that I've felt, and to some extent, they persist now. Except now, that lethargy has been injected with thoughts, memories, and heartaches. Such a mixture can only prove sorrowful to its carrier. As I sit here typing this entry, I attempt to recall actual good memories: smiling with friends, laughing with my family, proving myself wrong on my self-deficiencies, not worrying about trivial things, etc.

And I remember them. I remember the faces of my past, the hands that have molded who I am today. But now, all I can think of is how I have failed them.

I first spoke of strength that I recently discovered, and I do believe that such exists within my soul, somewhere. But this feeling of heavy emptiness, burdensome nothing has swallowed me during a time when such strength was not called upon, when I felt even more distant from my friends, my family, myself, and from God.

This sadness, caused by my stupid self-isolation, is putting up a hard fight. How many years of therapy are being undone every second I think of Matt's face? How many months of self-strengthening are being undone every moment I lose hope? How many seconds with those I love in vain every time I collapse into myself?

I know what you're thinking, You hypocrite. You claimed to be a new person; you claimed rebirth! I can do nothing but nod my head in agreement and with a heavy heart. Yes, I have made such claims, and with all truthfulness. But you forget who I am. Despite all those changes, I'm still just a 17-year-old trying to find her own peace of mind.

I know how I should be as I continue this metaphorical journey affectionately referred to as "life". I just want to know that I'm not the only one left who believes that I can do it.

Trial

1-800-SUICIDE

I apologize for the lack of any real post. I'm working on it. I promise.

What the Hell?

Anna, THIS is what I do at 1 in the morning.

Lord help you, love. I am in love with you, woman.

Just A Silent Wish

May I be happy now?