I woke up and for the first time…

The Animals Were Gone
Damien Rice

Woke up and for the first time the animals were gone
It’s left this house empty now, not sure if I belong
Yesterday you asked me to write you a pleasant song
I’ll do my best now, but you’ve been gone for so long

The window’s open now and the winter settles in
We’ll call it Christmas when the adverts begin
I love your depression and I love your double chin
I love ’most everything that you bring to this offering

Oh I know that I left you in places of despair
Oh I know that I love you, so please throw down your hair
At night I trip without you, and hope I don’t wake up
’Cause waking up without you is like drinking from an empty cup

Woke up and for the first time the animals were gone
Our clocks are ticking now so before our time is gone
We could get a house and some boxes on the lawn
We could make babies and accidental songs

I know I’ve been a liar and I know I’ve been a fool
I hope we didn’t break yet, but I’m glad we broke the rules
My cave is deep now, yet your light is shining through
I cover my eyes, still all I see is you

Oh I know that I left you in places of despair
Oh I know that I love you, so please throw down your hair
At night I trip without you, and hope I don’t wake up
’Cause waking up without you is like drinking from an empty cup

…I realized how much I miss you.
And for the record, you don’t have a double chin. But I love it all the same.

p.s.

Because Regina always says it best:

This is how it works
You’re young until you’re not
You love until you don’t
You try until you can’t
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath

No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else’s heart
Pumping someone else’s blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don’t get harmed
But even if it does
You’ll just do it all again, and

On the radio
You’ll hear November Rain
That solo’s awful long
But it’s a good refrain
You’ll listen to it twice
’Cause the DJ is asleep

Those are the days I miss most…

How it Ends
by DeVotchKa

Hold your grandmother’s Bible to your breast.
Gonna put it to the test.
You want it to be blessed.
And in your heart,
You know it to be true,
You know what you gotta do.
They all depend on you.
And you already know.
Yeah, you already know how this will end.

There is no escape,
From the slave-catchers’ songs.
For all of the loved ones gone.
Forever’s not so long.
And in your soul,
They poked a million holes.
But you never let ’em show.
C’mon it’s time to go.

And you already know
Yeah, you already know
How this will end.

Now you’ve seen his face.
And you know that there’s a place,
In the sun,
For all that you’ve done,
For you and your children.
No longer shall you need.
You always wanted to believe,
Just ask and you’ll receive,
Beyond your wildest dreams.

And you already know
Yeah, you already know
How this will end.

You already know (You already know)
You already know (You already know)
You already know (Love will end)

Spring Broke

I recently ventured westward to my old friend the Oregon Coast. I know I had a lot more I wanted to write about this, but it is getting late and I am getting tired. The basics of it are something along the lines of Bill’s Tavern and Brew House is a great place to go if you’re ever in the Canon Beach area. Also, I was reminded of a trip I took to the Oregon Coast a year ago for what was to be my last Spring Break. A certain female, who I adored, risked being with my family for a whole week in a place with few escapes. Unfortunately we weren’t anywhere near Canon Beach so we had a wax museum, rugged fishing boats, endless rain, and indoor volleyball to keep us “entertained.” Apparently rugged fishing towns on an angry coast overflowing with antique shops and mom-and-pop diners aren’t her thing. Which is sad to me because I love them like I love every member of my own family.

In The Morning, Before Work

by Owen

I eat with these crooked teeth
Tomato soup and grilled cheese
But you already know that because you used to dine with me
Do you remember?

I listen to my same old cd's
New order & Morissey
But you already know that because you used to ride with me
I thought I'd be singing a different tune by now
But this song about you keeps coming out

I sleep in these dirty sheets
A blanket between my boney knees
But you already know that because you used to
Crawl in bed with me in the morning before work

Put your hands on my back
Kiss the back of my neck

I thought I'd be singing a different tune by now
But this song about you keeps coming out
I hoped to be singing to someone new by now
But the songs about you keep coming out

S.A.D.

Welcome to Singles Awareness Day. Allow me to rant, if I may…

I love orange marmalade. I do not know why. I don't particularly enjoy orange peelings, but when they're mashed up and mixed with a butt-load of sugar, I suddenly adore them. I relish putting marmalade jam/jelly on English muffins. Why must we capitalize the name of languages even if they are being used as a pseudo-adjective? Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe it should just be english muffins. Then again, who really gives a shit? I guess I don't.

Some people seem to think that cats are better pets than dogs. I think that this is definitely a matter of personal preference, but I will forever contend that cats are crappy pets and dogs are totally the best. First of all, cats are practically free while dogs cost a fortune. This is to say that people want dogs more than they desire cats. Secondly, cats are so freaking moody and independent. You have to win their affection but they will still only give you affection when you least desire it (when you are trying to sleep, e.g.). Dogs, on the other hand, are almost always willing to give you instant affection and they will remain loyal forever. Also, dogs are much better at sensing when you are emotionally down and they will console you, even though they haven't a clue what you are saying. Thirdly, cats, in general, have more hair than dogs (or at least the kind of dog that I want) and they shed WAY more. Plus, you always have to hold a cat so that they can feel loved and this always disperses nasty cat hairs all over your sweater/jacket/coat/shirt/face/legs/pants/shoes/hat/scarf/whatever! Lastly, dogs are much easier to train.

You know what really irks me? People who are very opinionated about everything, whether or not they actually know anything about it, and can't stand to be wrong. So much so that they will back up things that they don't have adequate knowledge on with faulty logic. And the thing that gets me the most: not being able to say that they are wrong. Even if they AREN'T. Just to end an argument or to let somebody else have their moment in the sun, they will NEVER back down from ANY argument nor will they EVER admit, accept, or agree to defeat. They may consider it perseverance, determination, and a never-say-die philosophy, but I would consider it complete egoism and utter arrogance.

To the one who thinks she doesn't matter:
Thank you for the 20 dollars in a time when I needed it most. I am ashamed to say that I spent it all in one place. Thank you for the card. I adore it. Thank you for the moments of understanding and the willingness to listen when understanding fails. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for being the best I have ever had, and most likely the best I ever will have had. (I think that's a pluperfect subjunctive.) Thank you for not killing me…or yourself. Thank you for everything you've ever done for me and for loving me even though I hardly did anything for you. Thank you a million times, and a million times again.

I'm sorry.

I can see right over the tops of the houses…

There we were. Ike, Mike, and Mustard—or at least Crazy, Cool, and Nervous-As-All-Hell. Our car enveloped in thick fog as the night indifferently rolled on. No moon to guide us, but for now that was no problem. Ten minutes outside of town, Crazy slows down, turns off the headlights, and pulls into a gravel road as The Beatles tell us how far their troubles seemed to be yesterday. Parking behind a large grain elevator in between two homes, she tells us to very quietly exit the vehicle. We do so, taking extra care to lightly close our car doors and then bump them fully shut with our torsos. That's the most action I've gotten in months; side-humping the left, rear door of Crazy's sedan.

Crazy leads the way. She's done this before. And not just at this location. She's moving like a skilled professional. "It's a bit muddy here," she whispers back at us in a motherly tone. We sidestep onto a slab of cement. A gently curving yet rocky path veers off to our left guiding us to our point of ascension betwixt the silo and the elevator. Icicles dangle from the bottom rung of a frigid metal ladder. "Come on. Now all we have to do is climb," she instructs. With a fluid, effortless movement that would make a river jealous, she reaches up and grabs the first rung, which is a good six feet above the ground, swings over to one side, throws a leg up onto some sort of electrical switch box, and shimmies herself half-way up the ladder. Cool steps up next.

"I can't reach," she says, more out-loud than I would prefer.

"Just grab it and then use the box to push yourself up," retorts Crazy.

I give her a boost, still wondering why I agreed to climb up such a monstrosity in the first place. As I stare towards the summit, trying to catch a glimpse at the goal, my fear of heights begins to wonder even more.

"Are you coming?" Cool asks without really waiting for an answer.

"Uhm…Yeah, just give me a minute," I stammer, and, after a quick breather, I grab that icy bottom rung, throw my leg up onto the box, and push myself up onto the ladder. Hand over hand, rung after frozen rung, I pull myself up the 20 feet of ladder to the first rooftop. Leaving the ladder behind me, I step towards the second ladder. My foot gives slightly on the icy rooftop and small chunks of my life flash before my eyes. They're all boring. Watching TV, learning code, sleeping in, eating junk food…is this all my life amounts to? New courage whelms up inside me. I begin the ascent up the second, frozen ladder.

About a quarter of the way up, and after already stopping twice to re-warm my hands, I pause once more to let the blood flow back into my fingers. In an attempt to keep my fingers warm, I pull the sleeves of my jacket over my hands and continue the climb. Eventually I realize that this is not helping as much as I'd hoped, so I devise a brilliant strategy of keeping my right hand covered with the sleeve of my jacket while my left hand remains exposed. Rather than climbing normally, hand over hand, I wrap my left arm around the side of the ladder and tuck it over the rung so as to gain a secondary "grip" on the ladder while freeing up my left jacket sleeve so that my right one could be pulled even farther to keep the hand actually gripping the rungs much warmer. With this new method, I climb the remaining 100-150 feet of ladder at double speed.

Naturally, Crazy and Cool had been at the top for quite some time periodically looking over the edge and calling down to me: "Hurry up!", "You're almost there!", "Are you doing alright?", "It's so great up here!", and so on. The top of the elevator wasn't the coolest thing in the world, but it certainly gave a feeling of accomplishment. Abysmal fog blocked the incandescence of the city from leaking into our eyes, but the view was not completely void of interest. After about 5 minutes of walking around to all sides and forcing myself to peer over the edges, we began the descent.

Once back on the ground (Oh, sweet ground!), we all scamper off to the car, climb inside—this time not caring how much noise we make—turn up the heat and let our chilled fingers pulsate. The Beatles croon about life in a Yellow Submarine as we vanish back into the forgetful night.

I can’t help it

It’s just the best damn music ever! It makes me so happy and sad at the same time.

“Grey Room”
Damien Rice

Well I’ve been here before
Sat on the floor in a grey, grey room
Where I stay in all day
I don’t eat, but I play with this grey, grey food

Désolé, if someone is prayin’ then I might break out,
Désolé, even if I scream I can’t scream that loud

I’m all alone again
Crawling back home again
Stuck by the phone again

Well I’ve been here before
Sat on a floor in a grey, grey mood
Where I stay up all night
And all that I write is a grey, grey tune

So pray for me child, just for a while
That I might break out yeah
Pray for me child
Even a smile would do for now

’cause I’m all alone again
Crawling back home again
Stuck by the phone again

Have I still got you to be my open door
Have I still got you to be my sandy shore
Have I still got you to cross my bridge in this storm
Have I still got you to keep me warm

If I squeeze my grape and I drink my wine
’cause if I squeeze my grape and I drink my wine
Oh ’cause nothing is lost, it’s just frozen in frost,
And it’s opening time, there’s no one in line

But I’ve still got me to be your open door,
I’ve still got me to be your sandy shore
I’ve still got me to cross your bridge in this storm
And I’ve still got me to keep you warm

Warmer than warm, yeah
Warmer than warm, yeah
Warmer than warm, yeah
Warmer than warm, yeah

I’m in the habit of posting lyrics

“Poor Little Rich Boy”
Regina Spektor

Poor little rich boy, all the couples have gone
You wish that they hadn’t, you don’t wanna be alone
But they wanna kiss and they got homes of their own
Poor little rich boy all the couples have gone, they’ve gone, they’ve gone

And you don’t love your girlfriend
You don’t love your girlfriend
And you think that you should but she thinks that she’s fat
But she isn’t but you don’t love her anyway
And you don’t love your mother
And you know that you should
And you wish that you would
But you don’t anyway

Poor little rich boy, all the world is okay
The water runs off your skin and down into the drain
You’re reading Fitzgerald, you’re reading Hemmingway
They’re both super smart and drinking in the cafés

And you don’t love your girlfriend
You don’t love your girlfriend
And you think that you should but she thinks that she’s fat
But she isn’t but you don’t love her anyway
And you don’t love your mother
And you know that you should
And you wish that you would
But you don’t anyway

You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young
You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young
You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young
You’re so goddamn young
You’re so goddamn young
You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young
You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young
You’re so goddamn young

And you don’t love your girlfriend
And you don’t love your girlfriend
And you don’t love your girlfriend
And you don’t love your girlfriend

because it’s stuck in my head…

“Rootless Tree”
Damien Rice

What I want from you is empty your head.
But they say be true, don’t stain your bed.
And we do what we need to be free.
And it leans on me like a rootless tree.

What I want from us is empty our minds.
But we fake, we fuss, and fracture the times.
We go blind when we needed to see.
And this leans on me, like a rootless...

So fuck you, fuck you, fuck you
And all we've been through.
I said leave it, leave it, leave it,
It’s nothing to you.
And if you hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me so good
That you just let me out
Let me out, let me out?
It’s hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out.
Hell when you're around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out.

What I want from this
Is to learn to let go.
No, not of you
Of all that’s been told.
Killers re-invent and believe
And this leans on me, like a rootless...

So fuck you, fuck you, fuck you
And all we’ve been through.
I said leave it, leave it, leave it,
It’s nothing to you.
And if you hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me so good
That you just let me out
Let me out, let me out?
It’s hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out.
It’s hell when you’re around.

Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around.

Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out.
Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out.
Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out.
Let me out, let me out, let me out!

So fuck you, fuck you, love you
And all you’ve been through.
I said leave it, leave it, leave it
It’s nothing to you.
And if you hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me so good
That you just let me out
Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out?

Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out.
Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out.
Let me out, let me out, let me out!

Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around.
Let me out, let me out, let me out
Hell when you’re around...

WTF mate?

I may very well be the most retarded person I know.

Seven years ago, the woman of my dreams calmly walked right into my life. We clicked instantly. We spent any free time we had calling each other up, just to talk. She drew me a picture of a metaphor. I drew her a picture of who knows what. She wrote two pages in my yearbook, one of which was a poem. I jotted down a quick paragraph in hers. She called and wrote letters over the summer. I switched schools and gradually drifted away from all contact with her. I was her first love, she was the girl of my dreams (even then!). She calmly walked into my life. I abruptly walked out of hers. She now lives in California. She has been married for a few years. There's nothing I can do. I skipped over my one shot at the future I always imagined. Now I know the price.

Over the holidays I attended an 8-year (don't ask me why!), 8th grade reunion. I arrived early, so I chatted it up with my friend and classmate, Justin, and his girlfriend. After a while, Justin's cousin, and another classmate, Steffan showed up. Neither of these was really a big deal since I've seen them both recently and nothing huge is going on in their lives (other than graduating and looking for work). Then John arrived. I hadn't seen him in years. He had brought his girlfriend. They're pretty cute together. More and more classmates from 8th grade began arriving. Kristofer and his wife. Kelsey and her husband. Nicole, but without her fiancé. Jackie, who I found out through conversation with her is now married and has a two-year-old son. Kailene, who is also married, and her baby. Suddenly this "casual" get together was a huge deal. Out of 12 classmates that were present, only four were completely single. Out of those four, I estimate that only one will still be single at the next reunion.

Me.

I've got The Feeling

I've got a little something on my mind. To keep it to myself isn't really very kind. Pouring out my heart isn't usually my style. But you gave me an inch so I'm gonna take a mile. You see, I'm strong, but I feel like a mouse when you're gone. I'm weak, but I'll take on the world when you're here with me. Where the hell did you get that smile? I haven't seen one of them in a while. Cuz these days, I'm such a boy, I mope around like I've seen it all before, but something has changed. I used to be an open heart. What have you done to me? It could have been anyone. But it wasn't you and it wasn't him, it was me who felt like a fool right then. And I won't be the only one. It could have been anyone. Give me the song and I'll sing it like I mean it. Give me the words and I'll say them like I mean it. Cuz you've got my heart in a headlock. You stopped the blood and made my head soft. And God knows, you got me sewn. You could choose a friend but you don't seem to have the time. I wonder if you ever get to say what's on your mind. Take a little time. I love it when you call. I LOVE it when you call. I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL! But you never call at all. So, what's the complication? It's only conversation. I love it when you call, but you never call at all.

My pianos out of tune. I wish it wasn't. I wish that you were mine. I wish that my heart was stronger. My piano is out of tune. I WISH it wasn't! I wish we had more time. I wish that my world was softer... and I'm on a helicopter. I've had this feeling before. My heard is crawling in the mud, mud, mud. I'd feel much better, I'm sure, if I had a helicopter. I had a dream we went away, left this city for a day. You took me southwards on a plane and showed me Spain, or somewhere. But in reality you're not so keen to show me anything, and I thought you liked me. Hey, show some love. You ain't so tough. Come fill my little world right up. Right UP!

I turn on the tap and run some water. Flick a little switch on the wall... I'm hoping you remember what I taught ya. Hoping you remember me at all. I'm strong but I feel like a mouse when you're gone. And I'm weak but I'll take on the world when you're here with me. Can't you see you're in the wrong place? Will you please face it and come home? Everyone knows it. Can you deny it? I was the only one for you. Everyone knows it. Cuz we couldn't hide it. Nobody else got close. It's true! My love was stronger than you think. Much stronger now I've had a dream. Well, I hope you know that I miss you, and I wonder where you've been. And I wonder who you've seen, and I hope that he's a friend. Do I miss you? Yeah. Do I miss you? YEAH. All of a sudden the wind just changed direction. That big black cloud came rolling in. People in love get lost and foolish. People in love get everything wrong. People in love get scared and stupid. People in love get EVERYTHING wrong! At least they're not lonely.

B-b-b-baby, I think I'm going c-c-c-crazy. And why should I be sane without you? They tell me to fight it, but they can bloody well just try it. I'll never be the same without you. Never be lonely. Remember me? I used to be the best-time buddy who you couldn't wait to see. But getting old, it takes its toll, and hearts getting broken lead to people growing old. This telephone's out of use. I wish somebody would take me to your door. I wish that my world was finer, and we were an ocean liner. I've had this feeling before. My heart is crawling in the mud, mud, mud. I'd feel much better, I'm sure, if I had an ocean liner.

So, what are you gonna do with all this stuff? ...pilling up, filling up, taking up. You misunderstand me. All I wanted was some evidence that you really like me. You really liked me. Maybe it's all too much. How come we're so messed up? Maybe I'm not enough... maybe I'm just too much. I put the dog out for you. Travelled beneath wards for you. Down where it's rumbling, suburbs left crumbling. Here's where the fun begins. It's true. But I never knew anyone to make me run, but you do. And that's when the blue picadilly takes me away from the city. Maybe someday you'll forgive me. Twelve stops and home. You journeyed downwards for me. There ain't much left down here to see. You're just too cool for me. You made quite a fool of me. You brought out the school in me, but I never knew anyone tougher than you. And baby I think that I love ya, and there's a short sign above ya. Cuz ain't it a shame? There's another! I think I'll go home. Why are you here again? Twelve stops and home. There is no better friend. Twelve stops and home. Look at the time we spent. Twelve stops and home. When will it ever end? That's when the blue picadilly takes me away from the city. Maybe someday you'll forgive me. Twelve stops and home.

Let me quote, if I may…

So, this morning (at 11:30) Heather and I watched The Devil Wears Prada. Overall it is an interesting movie that displays the delicate balance between one's social life and one's career. However, that's not really what I want to post. One of the main theme songs in the movie for all of the moments when the lead character, Andy (Andrea), realizes that she is compromising pieces of who she is to try and please her boss and further her career is a song titled "Sleep" by a little group called Azure Ray. And so, for this evening, I would just like to post the lyrics as a reflection of the way I feel.

Fill these spaces up with days
In my room
you can go you can stay
I can't sleep,
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep

Now these years locked in my drawer
I'll open to see just to be sure

I can't sleep,
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep

And So I'm reaching out for the one
And So I've learned the meaning of the sun
And all this like a message comes to shift my point of view
And watching it pull my own light as it tips a shade of you

Hold my wine hold it in
no bodys lost
but no body wins

And I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep

And So I'm reaching out for the one
And So I've learned the meaning of the sun
And All this like a message to shift my point of view
I'm watching through my own light as it turns the shade of you

I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep
I can't speak to you

So Much Life, So Little Time

Why does it always seem as though I have a million things to do? There are just way too many things to get done. I'm up every night until at least midnight (generally a couple of hours later) and I still never feel like I've accomplished enough during the day. I have a website for my music that still needs to be even started, I need to do a redesign of my portfolio website, I have about four blogs that need makeovers (and some posts to go with), there are books to be read, AppleScripts to be written, applications to test (and delete if I don't like them), languages to learn (including, but not limited to, French, Italian, German, PHP, more JavaScript, and I'm totally letting my nerdy side hang right out there), and about 999,993 other things that I feel should get done during my day. Yet, I constantly find myself mesmerized in front of the boob-tube catching RGB rays for about 2 hours a day. Even if nothing is on. Worse yet, whenever I watch TV I'm constantly eating. Tonight I had a blueberry muffin, two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (a definite classic), and I polished off one of those huge boxes of GoldFish snack crackers. Not to say that it was full, half full, or even a quarter full before I polished it off, but I still feel like an omnivorous swine. Even if that adjective doesn't work here. I still feel like it.

On a less pessimistic and whiny note, I was glancing through a book about Swiss design that Dennis got me while he was in Vietnam recently visiting his family, and I realized that my Swiss heritage is very apparent in my work. I'm so grid oriented. Everything needs to be just so; completely organized. Even my codes have to have a certain structure or else they're just not worth my time. I guess in many ways this is a good thing. In a lot of ways I view this as a positive trait, but when combined with my need to have things "perfect" in my eye and my tendency to procrastinate, not a lot gets organized, finished, or even started. The main trouble is that if I don't think I'll be able to finish something the way I think it deserves to be finished, I won't even start it. Not even an attempt. Nothing. By the way, I think about 10 sentences back or so I just started typing to be typing. I'm not even saying anything anymore. It's just one long fruitless rant about already overly-exposed shortcomings.

Blah blah blah blah blah blah.

The end.

Yeah, It's Been A While…But It's Definitely Time

So, it has been quite a while since I have posted anything on here. I haven't even visited my own site to read back on my life or see if anybody has commented. I'm kind of wondering right now if people like my good friend Adam even check this blog anymore or still subscribe to its RSS feed. I guess with this post I shall see. That is, of course, assuming I don't lose Internet connection before it gets posted.

It seems an accurate assessment to relate how often I blog or how lengthy my blog posts are to how depressed I am or am becoming. I say this merely because I have been through it so many times that it no longer worries me. The reason for this current state of "depression" is three-fold:

First, it is winter. There is no denying or dissuading that fact. It simply is. It is cold, it is dark, it is an encroaching trepidation shrouded in mystic clouds of icy foreboding. The things I love about winter—hot drinks, people dressed in black coats covered in lightly falling snow, snow in general, city streets speckled with holiday decor, and the unnatural feeling that everybody is your friend—do not exist where I currently live. It is a frozen wasteland of dangerous roads and masquerading frost shaken from the barren branches of overhanging deciduous trees.

Second is the fact that couples are so much easier to spot in the cold. I'm not necessarily saying that I'm envious of anybody who has found that special significant other, but snuggling with somebody whose presence you greatly enjoy is always fun. I guess it's just easier to enjoy the holidays and to don the holiday spirit if you have someone special to share it all with. Unfortunately I've never really had the honest opportunity at proving this theory correct. I got really close last year, but I screwed it up like I'm oh so prone to do.

The third thing that has me sinking into depression for yet another holiday season is the fact that I have to work right up until the weekend of Christmas. Then I get to go home for a week and spend nine whole days with my sisters and parents. Spending time with my sisters is always a pleasure these days. It's so much easier to get along with them now that we don't actually live together. However, nine days in my house with my parents may just persuade me to love it here in this gelid sinkhole of despondency. There's nothing like staying inside all day in the middle of the woods and playing a card game that nobody but an Adventist could get so religious about.

I guess that's it for the woes of my sad, trite little life.
Merry Christmas everybody. Considering my theory regarding the frequency of my blogging being directly related to the severity of my depression, I'll probably be blogging again in no time.

peace

lightning storms rule!

So, there's one really sweet thing about living in Walla Walla: the Western lightning storms. It's great because where I live there are very few clouds in the sky (and the clouds we do have are small, light, and fluffy), there is a full moon out, it is not raining and there is a very slight and gentle breeze, but 100 miles to the west there is an AMAZING lightning storm going on in about 1/3 of the sky. There is the main display right in the middle and it goes off about once every minute or so, then there is the unusual display to its left which goes off about once every 5-10 minutes and has red, pink, and orange lightning. Then, on either side of both of those displays, there are the side-shows which go off about once every 10-15 minutes and are usually quite small, but still bright. It's just non-stop lightning out there. I love it! I rode a bike to the top of a hill and sat in somebody's field of who-knows-what and I just watched the storm for about an hour. It was grand.

Gone, Daddy, Gone

I'm gone. My brain is on vacation, my head is on vacation, my heart is on vacation, my lungs are on vacation. I'm not here...at least not all of me. I think it's about time I just suck it up and be a man.

Peace, love, and lacerations. J/K. Skip that last one.

Dallas

methods of communication

I used to have one of those ICQ accounts and I loved when the little flower next to somebody's name would change from red to green signifying their "online-ness." I also had (have) an AIM account, a Yahoo! Messenger account, an MSN Messenger account, and several online chat-room aliases. I even used to do the "e-mail chatting" thing where you e-mail somebody a little paragraph or so and then repeatedly click "Refresh" until their reply pops up in your inbox. But I think that all of these communication methods are the chatting methods of the past. Even iChat (except for iChat AV) is a thing of the past, as far as I'm concerned. I mean, they're great for the little chats like when you are in class with a friend and you both have laptop computers or whatever... you know, the little chats. But bigger things (like those "e-mail chats") have been replaced by blogging in my book. Somebody has something to say, so they blog about it. All their friends that have access to their blog (especially if they have an RSS feed of the blog) read it and respond in their "Comments" section or by posting a blog post of their own. You can even subscribe to somebody's blog so that it will automatically e-mail you whenever they post or get commented on. I think it's just easier plus it lets people keep up to date on their own time so you don't have to worry about calling them in the middle of class, or finding a time when you can both be online to iChat it up or even "e-mail chat." But that's all my opinion. Pure speculation.

Clap Your Hands!

CLAP YOUR HANDS!
But I feel so lonely
CLAP YOUR HANDS!
But it won't do nothing
CLAP YOUR HANDS!
But I have no money
CLAP YOUR HANDS!
Are you up to something?
CLAP YOUR HANDS!
Where's my milk and honey?
CLAP YOUR HANDS!
But I just look funny
CLAP YOUR HANDS!
I'll just wait awhile

why do I despise documenting my life?

I don't get it. I love blogs. I actually enjoy the moments I do write things down. I, for one, have a very feeble, delicate, and often malfunctioning memory system. I can't remember people's names, even if I went to high school with them, I can't remember the proper dates and times of things that happened in the past or are supposed to happen in the future, I can't even remember what homework I have due in what classes, or when my next test is going to be. These seem like pretty pertinent things to remember. However, I can remember random things like login names and passwords to all kinds of sites and FTP servers, I can remember phone numbers, PIN numbers and how to do math equations. I remember what order my clothes are supposed to be in (I'm a little OCD) but not which clothes I wore yesterday. The thing that scares me most about my memory is the fact that I seem to be losing my childhood. It's like I have a limited number of VHS tapes in my brain on which to store information and I've run out of fresh tapes and now I have to go about taping over things in order to store new information. Both of my sisters have incredible memories of when we were all children. They can remember places, events, names of people, faces, foods, smells, sights, tastes, and touches. It just amazes me whenever we all sit down and start talking about our childhood. My memory just doesn't seem to work that well.

Because of this loss in memory, I should be jumping at the chance to write things down. Even if I am not jumping at the chance to do so (as I am not), I should understand the necessity of writing certain, important things down and I should be doing it diligently out of a sense of urgency if nothing else. But I am not. I write down random things that most likely really won't matter in a few years. Like how awesome a certain concert was, or how much I hate my classes right now, or how I feel like a certain teacher has treated me unfairly, or how little sleep I got. These things are fun to write about and fun to read about (at least for me, but I'm kind of boring), but they should be EXTRAS in my writing. They shouldn't be the main focus. I should be writing down people's names, ages and birthdays in some sort of People Book (more commonly known as an address book), and I should be writing down meetings I have and things that are due in another book (some sort of scheduler or planner, I suppose), and I should be keeping track of my thoughts, mainly my creative thoughts, and recording my jam sessions (because all of my best songs are on-the-spot songs that I don't remember the next day), and writing down things that people say, especially really important things that people say.

However, I think the main reason I don't like writing things down on a regular basis is exampled finely by this post. I write a lot. Needlessly. Everything I'm saying in this post could most likely be summed up in 2 to 3 sentences. I have too many words inside my head and I feel like unless I get them all out I haven't fully expressed who I am as a person. Which doesn't really matter, because what do Joe and Jane blog-reader care about who I am as a person? I'm a people watcher; I can't get enough of watching other people's lives. But I doubt that most people in the world are like me. Most people would be reading this post and wondering to themselves what they can get out of it for themselves. "How will this help me live a better life?" "What knowledge am I learning through reading this?" "What is the thesis and what are the main points of this blog post?" Those sort of questions. Nothing like, "Oh my. How interesting this person's personal problems are."