Confused

It's raining. Thunder is sounding everywhere. The clouds are as black as night.

Where is graduation? Where is the Senior Banquet? Where are times I spent with friends and teachers? Where is my childhood...? Where is my childhood....

I buried it. It died on June 9th 2006.

I'm in a different land. I have a different house. I'm going to move again. 4th time this year, 7th time in the past year and a half. I'll move again a month after that. Whoever said that a place that affected you only counted if you lived in the place 6 months was full of bs. I am affected. Profoundly. I just realized that since last year, my heart became hard. I am now a bitter person.

It is not helped that I am now in a land full of everything that I and a few others were fighting against at CAJ: Apathy. Ignorance. A teeny-bop culture where shallow is beautiful, and depth is hard to find.

To tell you the complete truth... I have no clue what to think. About anything. I feel like a chunk of me is gone. I feel confused, and I can't get my thoughts together. I'm having trouble speaking. I can't express thought out loud on account of the time it takes to think about what I need to say.

In other news, I just got back from Caswell N.C. attending a mission conference that I didn't really take part in accept for the worship which was, if I may say, phenominal despite the fact that I wasn't capable of feeling anything, much less carrying on thought. The speaker was great, and worship music was led by none other than Todd Agnew, who was a breathe of fresh air in a country full of a stale smell.

I wish the clouds would part...

light & day

I completely understand people asking how one is when you can see they really care about the answer. But something that aggreivates me beyond imagination is when people ask how one is when they feel they need to speak to one and don't know what else to say. What, then, is the obligation of the person being asked? "I'm fine, thank you."
"How are you?"
"Do you really want to know the truthful answer to that question?"
"Well....yes, I do."
"Very well then. To be perfectly honest, I'm lost, insecure, alone. I'm in need of someone to talk to and share with, and to love in a way that people aren't allowed to love anymore. I'm confused, I'm scared, nothing makes sense anymore. I'm about to graduate from high school. I'm tired. I'm looking for peace of mind, and I'm afraid that in that huge expanse that is the world, I won't be able to find it. I'm sick of bullshitting around in life, and I'm sick of people thinking that I'm dependent on them asking me "how I am" in order to survive, and in order to keep my sanity in this hell of a year. I'm sick of having to fight, yet I'm sick at the thought of giving up. I hate hanging around, and I want to do something. I get headaches frequently. I'm allergic to the city I live in, yet I love the city I live in. I've had a croopy cough for 2 months now because I'm allergic to the city I live in, and it's getting old.
I'm sick of what I've just written, because it shows that there are things in life that aren't all that wonderful, yet I'm sick that I just thought of that because that's life!
That's how I am. I'm hanging on the God's promise that he carries those who believe in Him through times like these, and He's the only one that can I truly lean on.
So what do you think now that you know how I really am?"

Times Like These - Foo Fighters

ItÂ’s times like these you learn to live again.
ItÂ’s times like these you give and give again.
ItÂ’s times like these you learn to love again.
ItÂ’s times like these time and time again.

That's what I believe this year has been, despite all the feelings that are true listed above. I have no doubt this year was for a reason, if nothing else, then to learn that life is immense, and there is absolutely no way anyone can figure it all out.

No that my thoughts are out, I'm going to go drink some hot tea, sit down to my speech and knock my teachers dead on Wednesday with how amazing I'm going to be. I'm going to listen to the Polyphonic Spree, and their blissfully happy lyrics that somehow make you feel happy because they aren't overly exciting.

From there.....?

Well, this is life, and I'm no prophet.

I do have a feeling, though...

Such Great Heights

Tonight I want to be Peter Parker.
I want to swing among the building tops...
Thinking...
Thinking...
Thinking...
I want to land on the top of a building and stare down at the mess of buildings and traffic and people and lights and feelings and lovers and friends and laughter and I want to watch time go by. I hope it moves slowly, because I'm tired of it speeding along in it's crazy franticness... Maybe people will look up and see me. If they do, I think I'll wave, just to show them that I am in the world, however removed my mind might be.

"They will see us waving from such great heights. 'Come down now,' they'll say but everything looks perfect from far away, 'come down now,' but we'll stay..."

That's The Postal Service. (Or, if you prefer, Iron and Wine covering The Postal Service). Brilliant poets, they are...

But I see a problem. Who is the other person in the "we"? Who will come swing with me from such great heights? I guess I haven't found someone yet. When I do, I hope it's someone that I can hold tight to... I do so hate fickle relationships, no matter how long they last.

I need a hug...

But since I can't have that, I'll have to settle with the Shins and my own dreams. Oh... and I can't forget Wilson.

I'm tired. And in need of help.

Cast Away

"I'm going somewhere," I thought as the credits rolled down the screen. But where? People will say, "Welcome back!" "Welcome Home!" Well, what is home? I've written on it in the past, but to someone like me who remembers nothing of America (with the exception of painful memories) and doesn't really care for the place, America is not home.

I just finished watching Cast Away. I cried. I cried through the complete second half of the movie. It hasn't really hit me like that before, but I can't help it right now. I am Chuck Noland. I've just spent 4 years on an island that I didn't want to be on. Soon, within 2 months, I will be sailing off from it. I've got that time to prepare to get off of it, and I'm getting excited. But when I make it past those huge waves that I must face before I get off, will I look back on my island with longing? Will I have tears in my eyes? Most definitely.

These next few months are going to be hard... Very hard. And I thought this year was the worst ever...

So...I'll see you. And you'll see me. I'll be laying on a raft, my eyes red from the tears that I've cried, and am still crying. I'll be crying loudly, screaming for what I've lost... for what has drifted away. My Wilson.

When you see me in this state, do not worry. I know what I have to do. "I have to stay alive. I have to keep breathing, because who knows what the tide will bring." Thank You, God, for the will to live, and for the surprise of life. Thank You for the value of tears. Thank You for deserted islands. Thank You for "Wilsons". Thank You for life. Thank You for sails. Thank You for wind. Thank You for breath. Thank You for life. Thank You for ice, and for glasses. Thank You for tears. Thank You for life. Thank You for the privilege of laying down on my bed crying for no reason, and then finding a reason. Thank You for life. Thank You for tears. For life.

Nightswimming

Here I am. In Hokkaido. Sapporo. Kiyota ku. Hiraoka Koen Higashi. I'm home. I'm home. It's my home, and the only one I've got. Unfortunately, I don't live in my home. I don't really know where I live, but it doesn't matter right now, because I'm home.

I just spent about an hour laying in my dad's arms. Yes, I'm 18. No, I'm not ashamed that I still sit in my parents laps, and spend hours talking to them while lying on their bed.

I laid there feeling warm and happy, but you know what? I cried. Silent tears. Painful tears. For a moment, an hour, a mere speck in the grand scheme of my life, things were calm and known. Everybody hurts. I'm an everybody.

I'm homeless (or not really, but I've just moved one day before going to Thailand, so I can't really say I know what my new house is like. It's the third time I've moved this one senior year. I can't wait for stability). And time is moving too fast, considering I have Senior Compositions coming up, a room to pack, another room to unpack, homework to do, life to live, people to say goodbye to, and others to keep in contact with, while still others to spend time hanging out with, getting my eyes checked so that I can get new glasses, go to the orhtodontist so that he can do nothing to my retainer and tell me what a horrible job I've been doing taking care of my gums and the calcium that is built up on my teeth (not that anyone notices unless they've got their head in my mouth, which only happens at the ortho). Did I leave anything out? Oh yeah. College to get ready for, the States will be even worse, but I must be ready for that, too, and sometime in there, I have to find a life that I can call my own.

I guess all that is my life though, come to think of it. If I think of it that way, will I feel any better? Will it become easier? Probably not. It's a cruel irony.

For now, I'll sit here on my bed, listening to R.E.M.'s slow songs (R.E.M. is the most meaningful band in the world...), and look at my desktop, the picture on which reminds me a lot of how I feel. I don't want to think anymore. But wait... That leads to thought, doesn' t it?

"To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?
To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd.
To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?"

Life, ladies and gentlemen. Life.

Trying...

I'm trying.... I'm trying so hard at so many things, but everytime I get close to completing my "trying", change occurs.

It's almost scary... I was trying to write a paper on Frankenstein.

A couple of tears from downstairs... My life changes. Drastically. Either I face living the next week or two completely alone, or I face moving. Again. To what could be my third house this senior year.

Now, there are too many thoughts going through my head. I don't know where to begin, and most frighteningly, I don't know where to end.

It all starts tomorrow.

Now

11:33 P.M.

I'm sitting here in my room. My candles are lit...four small pin points of light in an enormous expanse of blackness. The only other light is that of my computer screen, which I purposefully dimmed so as not to destroy the only two eyes that God has given me.

This is my haven. My safe port. My peace in a load of turmoil.

I was thinking tonight about life. About how you can never have exactly what you want. If you give up one thing for another, sooner or later, you will find something dispicable about the new choice. It's that way with everything...even love. Especially love. The more time one spends with another, the more one will find that they hate about that person. It's happened many times to me. I'm sure it has happened to you, also. What the difference, then, between love and apathy? Love perserveres and loves despite the short comings. This is all really a very odd conversation, but it's helping me. Through my own thinking mixed with my belief in God, the doubts in my mind are going... going... going... I hope some day they go away, but I am only human, and not a very good one at that.

That's another thing special about life. We are all flawed, and therefore we all have the chance to better ourselves.

New revelation: I love dark chocolate. There is something awesome about it... sinful. When I eat it, I feel as though I'm doing something wrong, but right at the same time. It's a great feeling.

I was reading Naomi's blog the other day (which is incredible, by the way), and as I read her reflection on what she'll miss in Japan, it got me thinking...

What am I going to miss? Will I miss anything?

Absolutely.

I'm going to miss jumping on the bus, and the trains and being able to go everywhere and anywhere I want. I'm going to miss Tower Records shopping sprees, and now, more recently, GAP shopping sprees with Jesse. I'll miss getting lost in Inokashira Koen, and sipping coffee at Starbucks.

In a way, I'm going to miss this year...

This year, I've realized that the more I sit back and relax...watching things, listening to people, not focusing at school... I've had the best, most relaxing year I've ever had. My grades are not bad. Sure, I've stayed up late finishing homework, but those nights quickly redeem themselves as at look at the bigger picture.

I'm going to miss taking tests in the afternoon with Ms. Pettit, and listening to Icelandic ambient music. I'm going to miss swearing with Naomi about all the work that we have to do at 3:00 in the morning.

I'm going to miss...a lot.

A Poem for a Friend

It was within the dark blanket of night

Where I lay my thoughts,

Unfathomable like needles driven deep inside.

Inside the blackness of despair,

The closed eyes blocking thoughts of passion

From breaking through like hideous light.

What were these thoughts,

So plaguing like a shade’s song coursing its way

Through the darkness of my mind?

The rhythmic bliss of contact

Melding two into one form too early

Bringing forth an eternal spot.

These tears I cry for you dear child,

These tears staining clothes, face, and soul.

Let Vestal’s purity once again touch your heart,

Your body, your soul, awaking

True form, God’s original masterpiece,

Blameless, clean, and mild.

Feeling Eternal Sunhine of a Spotless Mind

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;
"Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymeneals sing,
To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.

- Alexander Pope (From "Eloisa to Abelard")

A Ritual To Read To Each Other...

This poem is truly beautiful...

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider—
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give—yes or no, or maybe—
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

—William Stafford