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So Here's Where We Stand

I just realized that I haven't written an entry here in almost (no, over) a year. I'm not in my second semester of my Sophomore year at a small liberal arts college in the middle of nowhere and, for better or worse, there's no going back. A lot can happen in a year, but it's always comforting to know that there are still some places that never change.

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Friends Back Home: Looking Back, One Semester Later

I got a call last night from someone I hadn’t really talked to in almost a year. The weird thing was, I still definitely identified her as a friend. As I talked to her, I could say to myself, “yes, this is a friend.

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Because My Heart's Running Around Like A Chicken With Its Head Cut Off

It's been a very long time since I've written anything here. For that matter, it's been a long time since I've really written anything simply for myself - college has had a way of, shall we say, taking down my desire for personal writing by a notch. As well as reading for pleasure, which is something I've always done and could never give up (although the reading load tends to cut down the time I have for just curling up with a book, which is a shame). Besides feeling the reality of coursework and what it can do for you, college has been an interesting time on pretty much any front you can think of. Socially, I'm doing better and more than I ever did in high school. I have friends that I actually see more than once a month outside of classes (every day, in fact), and I'm finally in a relationship that I feel good about. That is, I'm in a happy, normal, stable relationship. What does it mean when I'm in a happy, wonderful relationship with someone of the opposite sex when I still consider myself bi?

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Life and Film

I'm starting to really look at the way my life is going right now, and I'm really starting to wonder why it can't be more like what you see in the movies. I'm not saying that I'm wondering why it isn't, just why it can't be. I've always (well, not always, but for a while) had this dream of being a crazy guerilla underground street artist, painting the world to bring a little more life in. I've had my dreams of being a rockstar, loved by everyone. I've done a little bit of both, but that beautiful dark and stylish and slick and quick world you see in cinema just isn't the same as what I find myself doing in my own life.

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Accidental Revelations

I just came out to my mom. By accident. I was talking to her while I was checking my email and all that, and I go to myspace. She's never really seen a site like that before so she asks if she can see my page on there. I figure sure, what's on there that she can't or shouldn't see? As it turns out, I forgot about that little "Orientation: Not Sure" thing that's on there... and of course that's the first thing that she notices.

"Not sure? What does that mean?"
"Uh... uh... its the... default thing? And I haven't changed it, and.."
"You haven't changed it? Don't give me that. Are you really not sure?"
"Look, I..."

She looks me in the eyes.

"You're gay? Bi?"

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Things Fall Apart

Barber's Agnus Dei, sung by the Choir at Trinity College. Music so beautiful it hurts. It's been a long day, a long week. I'm so close to graduating that I can feel it, and I'm starting to wonder if I'm really ready to leave all of this. I'll be leaving my hometown and state in less than 3 months, and right now that scares the shit out of me. It's almost certain that there will be things I leave behind that I can never come back to, and I don't know how to even start thinking about thinking about that. So instead of putting too much thought into it right now, I'm just letting the bittersweet chords of that painful adagio wash over me, and hope that it will all be worth it, that it will all work out.

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Misnomers and Fiascos

I have two weeks and change left of high school, and as of right now, I'm honestly and truly done. I'm ready to throw in the towel and just be gone, out, finished. To be totally fair, I've been done (not actually done, but definitely done) for a while, but right now its hitting home a little bit harder than usual. A big part of that is disillusionment with my school, or at least with some parts of the administration. There are a lot of things that I'm just tired of dealing with, that I don't want to even think about even more.

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My Goggles! Mine!

So every once in a while I wear these ski goggles with bright orange lenses around. They're not your usual big blocky goggles, no - these things are streamlined and just one badass degree away from being retro-cyberpunk. In a good way, of course. In any case, I don't wear them that often, but they can add flair to whatever I'm wearing, as long as it's appropriate. Just push them up onto my forehead and I'm good to go. Pretty straightforward, right? I mean, everyone needs a prop. And, incidentally, in the winter I actually do use them for skiing, so it's not like they're just some kind of mindless fashion accessory. Anyway. Now I can no longer wear them. This is unfortunate. This makes me unhappy. This is not a good thing.

At my school there is a creepy little subgroup of anime freaks, gamers, RPG geeks, and wannabe otaku who call themselves the Nerd Herd. I have no real problem with these people. They're irritating, and if you get too close the greasy hair and unwashed body odor gets pretty bad, but in general they're not bad people by any means. They hang out in their corner, and everyone more or less gives them their space. Recently, one of these... individuals... decided that the whole goggles-pushed-up-on-forehead thing was a good idea. Apparently he saw something really similar in some anime or video game or something, and took the step of trying to actually work with it. Normally, I'd be flattered, but this guy has basically hijacked my look. See, not only is he wearing the goggles everywhere and all of the time but they are the EXACT SAME GOGGLES. Except that his have light purple lenses while mine are orange.

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Rain

I walk through the rain on my way to nowhere. An old street drunk with dead eyes starts towards me, his arm outstretched, his palm open for change. I dodge past a crowd of bike people and slip between the cars stuck in traffic. Quick look back: is he following me? No. So far so good. I pull the lapels on my suitjacket a little crisper and make sure that my collar is popped out just right. The rain slows, stops, drumming down to nothing on the pavement. People start to come out from under the awning. Tourists with their cameras and bursts of Russian, French, English English. Two kids on skateboards fly past me, blissed out on music. One of them clips me as he goes by, and I yell after them, but what can you do?

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Out Of My Window Looking At The Night

I haven't written for over a month now. Not on here, at least - and that really just feels sad. I can give the usual excuses (school, life, and all that) but the truth is that I could just as easily say that I just... haven't written. I have been really busy, but at the same time it's been very hard to stay away from Oasis the way I have been.

Part of it could be that I'm really... questioning who I am as a person. Sexuality comes into play there but it isn't the only thing. It's not just a matter of feeling uncomfortable writing on a site designed for queer youth when I'm never sure if I should actually call myself queer or something else entirely. I am a bit lost on that front right now, but that's still not it.

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Classical Digital Rapture

The most beautiful refrain of music that I've heard in a long time is from the last movie of Saint-Saëns' 3rd Symphony. We're playing the symphony in my orchestra, and at rehearsal this section comes up and my jaw just drops. I almost stop playing - but we had only just touched on the beauty and power of this piece. Tonight I put a recording of it on my headphones and skipped ahead to the magical section. For the first time that I can remember, I just let the music wash over me and started to cry. It was a sense of rapture and bliss that I can't remember every feeling before, and it was a shock when it left, just as suddenly as it came. I tried to go back and listen to it again, but no such luck. It's still a gorgeous piece of music, but that painful sense of beauty and power isn't there. Maybe hearing it live will bring it back.

Peace.

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Things My Dad Says That Bug The Crap Out Of Me

Some of this stuff happened tonight. Some of it happens all the time. All of it I'm sick of. And I'm really starting to lose any patience I once even thought about having for this kind of crap.

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Act Your Age (Or Not)

I turned 18 today. I guess that's important and it's sort of exciting (in that "hey, I'm older" kind of way) but on the other hand I'm still sort of out of it and depressed and tired. I feel old. I made some not so great choices last night and I'm not feeling too good about that. TO be honest, I had a great day today. Got with friends, ate some cake, all that jazz. I have absolutely no right to not feel amazing right now. Everything (?) is going my way, but I'm still pretty down. For no reason, as far as I can tell.

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Sadness Futility Sports War

Professional sports confuse me. To be honest, I find most competitive sports to be a little bit inscrutable. This isn't because I don't understand the rules of the game in question; for the most part, I do. Rules are, for the most part, the easiest part to understand. And it isn't that I don't follow the players or the teams or the stars. I more or less don't (apart from reading about the latest sports scandal if it hits the front page) but that shouldn't have any real effect on how I see the game. No, the biggest problem I have in understanding most traditional competitive sports is one of philosophy. I just don't understand the point.

Consider: there are two teams, each largely alike (except for their uniforms), and each fighting for possession of some abstract (and arbitrary) concept of territory. The territory can be spatial (for example, gaining yards in football) or economic (as in any game that relies more on volume of points, such as basketball). The end result, though, is always the same. People fighting over the same little bits of territory, gaining and losing ground, but ultimately getting nothing done. In short, the philosophy and style of team sports (especially professional versions) is nothing more or less than the philosophy of war.

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And We'll Remember This When We Are Old And Ancient

What is it like to stand up in front of 3000 people who are all desperately in love with you? What is it like to be a rock star?

Last night I went to what might have been the greatest show I have ever seen. I've seen a number of very good bands live, but as far as just a great show, last night almost certainly takes the cake. The Decemberists were playing an all-ages show in town, and I made sure to get tickets. The music was amazing, but even more incredible (and, in a very real sense, indescribable) was how much of a presence the band has. It went above and beyond the usual rock star bravado and flash and flair - there was something about them (and lead singer Colin Meloy in particular) that makes everyone really truly love them.

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