Contemplations

I've been wondering all of today and last night how to start this post. And I guess I just decided right there.

Last night was the Super Bowl. I never cared for football - not in the slightest. About 10 minutes after Mairead and her mother dropped me off at home, my mother and I left for the Bleu Rock Inn. In the car, we listened to the Blue Man Group, who I haven't heard in a while. We were just beginning my favorite song by them when we arrived at the Bleu Rock. I went in, and was met by Sherri and her son Zane, who I haven't seen in a while. Now that I have a reason for my weekends, I don't spend any time babysitting him for Sherri any more. I figured that, (for this is how she made it sound) throughout the evening, I'd be helping by being somewhat of a bartender's apprentice. After it became clear to her that I had only been to the Inn once before, she realized I wouldn't be of much help. I didn't really know my way around. It ended up not to be too important, though. I sat and played guitar Hero and some crappy wrestling game with Zane for about an hour, slowly filling myself up with pretzels and a hamburger. I was eating constantly through that night.

Eventually, I grew tired, and very depressed at the fact that I wouldn't be seeing Mairead for another two weeks. I was listening to The Postal Service on my iPod, and I had my head down on the table, with a bunch of excited football-crazy adults who actually cared about this game all around me. I was there for about 10 minutes, until I got up and asked my mother if there was a computer (I desperately wanted to post on my blog) in the Inn with internet access. When she told me no, I asked her if I could go lay down in the car. She told me no, but Sherri, who was behind me, told me that there was somewhat of a lounge down the hallway after the kitchen. I walked there, still with The Postal Service blasting in my ears (I find that calming music seems more calming when it's blasted, but that's just me. It adds a strange sort of effect.)

I found my way to the lounge, and saw a single couch there. I lied down on it, and listened. Just sat and listened in my sadness. It wasn't the fact that Mairead wasn't there; more so the knowledge that she wouldn't be there - not for another two weeks. I had to wait a long time for her, and this time there was no necklace that I could clutch on to in my desire to see her. Just the memory of her face, and of her kisses and her warm, smooth hands. The music was a big factor, I think, since it was the music we were listening to in the back of the van when her mother was driving me home. I'm sure that, for the next two weeks, my brain will immediately associate The Postal Service with Mairead.

I was crying a bit on that couch. All I felt that I wanted at this point was a hug - a real hug. A big squeezy type of "You are my friend. I care about you." hug. I wanted a hug from anyone, just to know that someone cared enough to give me one. I found myself craving physical contact of any means. I cried off and on, and I doubt that I moved one bit from the position that I was in.

Sometime, I saw somebody pass. It was a boy - he looked very familiar, but I was sort of out of it. My headphones were on, and I looked like I was asleep. Soon afterward, another person crossed. This one I immediately recognized. Cheryl Crews had just arrived, carrying a sleepy Trusten in her arms. I don't think they noticed me at first, but I got up and walked after them. Cheryl was mumbling something like "Where is our room? Where is our room?" to me when she saw me, and, in confusion, I just responded, "Hello, Cheryl."

She then noticed the couch that I had gotten up from, and placed Trusten down on it. I looked at him briefly - I have always been interested in people sleeping - but then Tyler noticed me and grabbed my jacket and dragging me back into the bar, insisting that I watch the Super Bowl. I told him that I don't care in the slightest bit about the Super Bowl, but still he pulled me. He eventually succeeded in his quest of dragging me into the bar, but I walked right out the moment I was in. Now aware that Trusten was sleeping in what was my bed, I didn't know where to go.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that I was unsupervised. I could walk around to any place alone in my boredom. I began to walk around, and eventually found myself outside.

Now this was a blast from the past. What I am going to explain truly is an example of my childhood's faded memory. I knew the outside looked extremely familiar. Sometime, vaguely, I remembered being here at some time. Very, very vague... there were other children there as well... I must have been very young... was Tessa Crews there? Or maybe somebody else I knew from school... there were other little boys there...

Just fragments. Undecipherable in their raw form. Somewhere deep, deep in my memory, they were there. Just very hard to reach.

I began to walk down to the lake to explore this blast from the past, but some birds in the lake began squawking at me about fifty feet from it. They calmed down when I didn't move for a few seconds. I plopped down on the grass, now completely alone, the Postal Service playing in the headphones that were now around my neck.

Soon, despite the fact that I was solitary and alone finally, I became cold, and went in. For about an hour, I wandered around, possibly in some sort of warped state of mind that I didn't fully understand. More memories came... one of the boys was richer and had some sort of new gaming system... the game boy? ...or maybe it was a cell phone...

I was wandering for quite some time, contemplating Mairead and the idiocy of some football-crazy adults and the music that was playing in my ears and the memories that were slowly revealing themselves in my mind... so many things to contemplate...

Eventually, after what seemed like forever, the game ended. We went home, and I was able to listen to that song that I really wanted to hear. My mother stopped at Quicke-Mart and bought some milk.... I was too wiped out and depressed-feeling to really come in or do anything. A lot of it probably had to do with the fact that I ate quite a bit of food, and I was in a food-coma.

We went home, and I read Mairead's blog briefly before I went to sleep. And I fell asleep in silence, contemplating Mairead.

In the morning, all I thought about was Mairead. She was all that came to mind. While I was getting ready, while I was on the bus, in my morning classes, just Mairead, Mairead, Mairead.

I felt love again. I was sitting on the bus, zoning out of the window, just remembering the previous night with Mairead. I was listening to Suddenly Everything Has Changed, ones of the songs we kissed to, and suddenly, I felt a real feeling. I felt love for her, much more love than normally, and I desired her more than anything else in the world.

The next two weeks will be agony. They will be filled with longing, so many thoughts and hopes and plans. I hope so much that we can find a way to see each other before the end of two weeks, even if it's only momentarily. Two weeks... quite a long time when one week seemed like a year.

Music: Edit The Sad Parts - Modest Mouse
Incense: musk

I despise siblings.

I despise my sister, Alana. She's an ungrateful bitch who is under the impression that she is the sweetest girl in the world. When she got home, she immediately made me get offline. Then she began complaining that she was cold, so I started a fire for her (her claiming that she didn't know how to load anything onto a pulley so I had to go all the way downstairs and lug a gigantic load of wood through the house). She said that it wasn't enough, so she called mom and made her tell me that I have to leave my door open. (My room has a heater because I'm the only one ever home. Alana comes home only for moments at a time, and she uses it as an excuse for never doing any work in the house.) If I were to leave my door open, than none of the house would be heated at all. The heater that I had is not meant to heat such a large area, especially having the heat travel through a narrow hallway into the rest of the house, where a fire was going anyway and another heater was turned on. After her bitching at me about it for a little while, it was decided that I would take the crappy heater that was outside the room, and replace it with the good heater that was in mine.

And this is the part that really pissed me off. I was coming out of my room, so I could take the shitty heater out of the living room to replace it with mine, and she began bitching at me some more, complaining that I was being a little asshole. She was mimicing me and being, in general, one of the most irritating and bitchy people I have ever known. Here I am, sacrificing my time and energy and warmth so she would be satisfied, and she was being a whiney bitch about everything, mainly about me being angry at her for... guess what.... being a bitch about everything! She was bitching at me because of my anger at her bitching at me!

Now, tell me. Does that make any sense?

And when I was walking past her, she stopped me and grabbed my necklace and said "That's my necklace!" (she was still in the midst of bitchiness). I replied "No, it's not. Mairead gave it to me."

She relpied in the snootiest, most annoyingly bitchy and cutesy voice she could have possibly done "Ohh, how cute!".

I ignored her and went into my room. Soon, she began bringing up arguing some more. Only this time, I was behind a door that I was holding closed. She began, in fact, to tear apart my door, saying that she was "just ripping off a piece that was already falling". Oh, well that's nice. If it's already in bad condition, why the fuck make it worse.

Morgan, I can stand. She's much, much, much more logical and fair than Alana. But Morgan, since she was born, has always had no choice but to try and take after Alana. Alana was the one in the more popular crowd. Alana was the prettier one. Alana was the one who had a good body, while Morgan always was a bit big-boned. And it is still this way. If given choices between sides, Morgan will always choose Alana. It's in her nature to try and get Alana to like her. It doesn't matter whether she disagrees with Alana's views or not; she will always attempt to take after Alana.

I, on the other hand, would prefer not taking after either of my sisters.

A path of self-discovery

The end of January already?

This month has certainly made quite a mark on my life. I'm finally being shown the real world, or some of it. And it's a confusing place, the real world. Filled with much stress and decisions that must be made. Filled with new people and events. Filled with the knowledge of people's true character. Filled with new feelings. Filled with something certainly new - real love, and the troubles that come with it. Filled with incense and Modest Mouse. Filled with difficulty for everybody around me. Filled with completely new conceptions of reality. Filled with friends, filled with foes...

For God's sake... filled with everything...

I guess you could say I'm on a path of self-discovery. Through the blatant truth, I'm being shown much about others, allowing me to delve deeper into my own character.

I see Sweeney Todd this weekend with Mairead. This week is seeming like one of the longest I have ever experienced. Two more days.

Goddammit. The real world sucks.

Are these blogs just correspondance letters between you and I, because we're too scared to talk about these things in some sort of way that allows immediate responce?

A bit, I guess.

You are depressed, Mairead. And I don't want you to be, because I care about you. But problems are challenging to remedy if the symptoms for them are unclear.

I was able to convince my mother that I was sick today. I wasn't in the slightest bit sick, but good acting does have its advantages. Besides, I do feel like I needed a day off from school. My room, which had been a wreck since I was in that strange, strange mood, finally got cleaned.

I'm unable to distinguish whether I have real feelings any more at all. Are these feelings shrouded in mist, or are they at their full quality? I can't even determine that anymore.

While cleaning, I found a poem that I wrote about a month or so ago. I posted it on my poetry site.

I found my gloves. They had been lost for a while.

I found the thermometer.

I'm not even done cleaning yet.

Meh... my thoughts are just choppy little fragments... I don't even have anything in particular that I wanted to say. I just want a moment to... empty my mind. Yes, they are simple little thoughts with no real value. Just little bits of my life, barely making a mark on my memory.

Morgan is talking to dad in the other room. I find it hard to talk to him now. Both my mother and father are trying to convince me that the other one is insane. I believe both of them are perfectly sane in many respects, however not so much in a multitude of others. My mother is trying to get my father put in jail for the thousands of dollars of child support he owes. I don't want my father in jail. I love him, but maybe he deserves it. I don't know. meh. fuck it. argh. What the fuck ever.

There are troubles in areas of my life that shouldn't have troubles.

My life is changing so much. Everyone around me is faced with so many decisions, and so am I. All of my friends are meeting dilemmas and possible solutions and failures in some areas and successes in others.

Fuck.

The real world sucks.

Where did the blue pills go? Where is the reset button? Why are these red pills so full of flavor but so devoid of nutrition?

Meh. I'm getting metaphorical like my dad. Not that that's a bad thing. Or maybe it is. I don't know. Fuck it all.

Who took the reset button? Is there no way of going back, going back to the bliss that was my past life?

Hapiness? What the fuck is that? Sadness? What are you talking about?

Oh, that's not what I mean. I feel all of these emotions. Every single one. Now, however, I am unable to determine which ones are good and which are bad. Love, yes, love. Good feeling, yes? Yes, it should be! It's not, though. Nor is it a bad feeling, though. The world isn't all black and white, there are the in-between colors too. Love is neutral. Love is just... love. For me, I know it's there, and I know that it makes me happy, even, but something is missing from it.

Eh, fuck. I'm beginning to be self-contradictory. I guess that I do think love feels good. It does make me happy. It's not complete, though. None of my feelings are complete anymore. I'm going through life like it's a movie. Scenes happen, and you know it happened, and you also know that it will most likely be an important scene that will tie in with the whole major plotline of the movie itself, but you don't care too much about it. The memories of the scenes themselves, however, are far away and distant, until something in the movie pops up to remind you of the scene. And then you go "Oh, yeah. I remember that"

What a dumb metaphor. Why the fuck am I being so metaphorical?

My dad called while I was writing this. I just felt like mentioning that.

Whatever.

Music: The View - Modest Mouse
Song that I'm about to put on: Sea Of No Cares - Great Big Sea

Meh. Just Meh. I can't think of a title.

Something is telling me that I need to write. But it's late on a school night. I was planning on playing sick tomorrow, but I still want to be coherent enough in case mom doesn't buy it.

Oh, and Mairead. About you finding yourself stroking your own face and neck while thinking of me - I do that too. I miss you incredibly. When I do, I hold on to the necklace that you gave me, and clutch it against my chest. It makes me feel bad that I didn't give you anything to remember me by over the week. To me right now, and until Saturday, you are this necklace. You are also the text on your blog. That is what you are. It sounds silly, yes, but you are replaced by these things in my mind. It makes me feel bad that you don't have some object to replace me. Well, not replace. Blasted English vocabulary... why must you be so limited in explaining things?

Oh, and I did make my room a hurricane. I blasted Modest Mouse, turned on my blacklights, put on a Halloween mask, threw stuff around the room, and plopped down on the pile of miscelannious objects. Yes, this mood was quite strange. I liked it, though. It was new. It was different but not negative or positive - like every other change that has happened recently. It was simply neutral. Not numb, but neutral. Big difference.

Oh, god. Now that I have a reason for the weekends, the weekday drags by. Tomorrow's only Wednesday... It feels like an entire week has passed already though.

Meh...

I'm finally feeling tired.

Nighty-night. Hopefully I can fool my mom tomorrow morning

New feeling

I've discovered a new feeling. I don't know what to call it. I felt this way today.

When I feel this way, Everything must be out of order. It must be messy and uneven in order for me to be comfortable. I must be irresponsible and lazy to satisfy myself. It's a good thing that I was at school when I felt this. If I were at home, than I would surely have proceeded to throwing everything I have on the floor in a pile, and then proceed to lay in it. Because that's exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted nothing more than to be a lazy, irresponsible, completely messy bastard. Well, not a bastard, really. I didn't want to be mean to people - I just wanted to lay down in a filthy room - on the hard floor, not on the bed, of course - and listen to music. It didn't matter what music, although I mainly wanted something familiar for some reason. Yes, the music was very important. In Geometry, there was no music, let alone the familiar music that I have come to love (such as Modest Mouse), so I was extremely uncomfortable. Andrew and Sarah were insisting on straightening our row of desks, but I wanted to keep mine ajar to the side because, otherwise, I felt extremely anxious.

The cure - music. Laziness and music, exactly what the mood makes me feel like experiencing. On the bus, I put on a familiar album on my ipod and layed down on the seat until I got off in Little Washington. It worked. It cured me. Although the feeling wasn't really a bad feeling at all. It was strange. It felt like a nuetral feeling. Certainly, it made me feel much anxiety, but the anxiety that I was feeling was unique. It was a new feeling, and I enjoyed experiencing it. I've felt this way several times before, but it was at home and music was readily accesible, therefore remedying it easily.

I'm feeling this feeling slightly right now, though. Familiar music seems to be bringing it on.
I hope I can control it enough not to destroy my room. I really do want to, honestly. I can't explain it. And no amount af logical talking could talk me out of having this desire. I'm going to proceed now to making my room look like it was the product of a tornado. I will put on familiar music and a familiar, somewhat bizarre movie, and destroy my room.

I feel so fucking weird right now.

Numb

Fuck... I hate mothers...

I haven't posted in quite a while. So many things have happened, though. My feelings are confusing and more numb than usual. I spent some time with Daeriam. Some wonderful, wonderful time. I've been learning more and more on the guitar. The Social Workers left - finally those assholes are gone...

I haven't been in the mood to write recently. I've been too numb to feel any feeling strongly anymore. Even love is somewhat dimmed. I've always been able to distinguish my feelings and know how I feel. I've always known whether I was happy, sad, excited, bored... Every feeling had its specific boundaries, and I was so sure of everything. Right now, however, I don't even know how I feel. I know that there is a feeling deep down in there, but I can't identify it. It feels like something is masking it. It makes me feel numb, like I don't really have a feeling there, but deep down, I know that I do.

And I don't like feeling numb. Things have gone from good to bad, from wonderful to terrible to wonderful again, and I guess it's just worn down my ability to feel. And saying that sentence, for instance, brings about a sad feeling in me, but that sad feeling is distant - like a dream.

I wish I had more memory of my childhood. Yes, I am on a completely different topic now. Sometimes I do that, and I don't know how my brain could have possibly come to the topic when it has nothing to do with what was being discussed. But anyway, I wish I had more memory of my childhood. Yes, I know that I am still in my childhood, but I mean my young childhood. I've mentioned this, but my own phsyche has simply blocked out my memories, due to many of them being painful. Having experienced this bucket full of red pills now, however, I would very much like to have those memories so that I know everything. Why escape the matrix if you can't even fathom what goes on in the real world, right?

Last night, Mairead (back to the previous topic), I felt as though I wasn't feeling as much in love as I should have. I mean, I was finally with somebody - somebody who truly loved me as well. My feeling, however, was dim and far away, and I had a hard time grasping it. Thinking of you now, thinking of being with you and holding you in my arms, I feel a great sensation of love - and longing, of course - the feeling that I know that I should have felt while I was with you. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the fact that other people were around. I just feel like I didn't love you as much as I should have that night. Maybe my numbing feeling was especially strong yesterday.

Oh, now I can't get my mind off of you. Daeriam. Why am I doing that? Your name is Mairead, not Daeriam. We have no reason to protect our identities on blogger. You are Mairead. I am Austen, not Netsua. There. I'm sure we'll be safe, Mairead.

I feel more comfortable referring to you by your real name.

I regret that I wasn't able to give you something to remember me by. I told you that I would, but I wasn't able to make anything in time. I apologize for that. The necklace you gave me is wonderful. I constantly feel it against my chest, and therefore constantly think of you. If you are planning on giving me something this weekend, don't. I will give you something. Perhaps we can make this into a tradition - exchanging gifts every weekend.

Another half-year? I have to wait that long?

Well, alright. I don't want the people at Sandy Springs to be too disappointed to lose their Mairead so suddenly.

But I certainly do miss you more than ever, Mairead Mcloughlin.

-Austen. Not Netsua. Austen.