(no subject)
July fourteenth, 2002
Dear Journal
For a long time in my life, I’ve searched for a sense of who I am as seen from the outside. My face, as I see it in the mirror is as intimate to me as, well my own face. However when I look in that mirror I see something there I cannot identify with. Whoever that guy is in the mirror before me he seems foreign. The 20 year old beside the guy in the mirror is his brother, while the one staring straight across from him is just me.
Another way of saying I’ve been “searching for myself” in a Holden Caulfieldesque way, is that I’ve been trying to fit that guy across from me into a stereotype which media has given me the, how can I say this understand. Today, this very hour, as I look at the guy staring back from the mirror I realize that there is no social slot that he can be easily slipped into, no hole to fit his peg into. He, like the rest of the humans on the face of the planet earth is completely unique. He is no nerd, he is no geek, he is no dork. He is the one that calls himself Saiyin Kwan. All he can do is be who he is most accustomed to being.
Many times in my life I’ve tried to give myself a new name, like jake, or jack, or whatever. In each instance the new name is distant, someone else who happens to have that same identifying name. On that dotted line, that different name doesn’t fit with the rest of the document, or the hand that writes it. It makes me feel, only uncomfortable, like sitting in the couch of someone else, sleeping in a bed that isn’t mine. As best described in an Evangelion episode, it is an “unfamiliar ceiling”.
There, I’ve had it out. I can only lead a life to what I am, not as a stereotype, not as another block to add to the lego castle. Now, on to the rest of the normal journal stuffs. Today was a normal day, with things that made it feel very unusual. Things occur that make it separate from what was becoming a norm. I remembered today that next week Friday is jessica’s birthday party, and that the thirty first of this month is my mother’s birthday. Not only are these great and wonderful events, but I have yet to buy both gifts. Aiy ya is the phrase that settles best in this gap in internal conversation. For now, I’ve planned to have mom take me to Barnes and Noble to get presents for at least one of the two, Jessica, whom I’ve already told I’ll go to her b-day bash, on the 19th of July. This of course was a gleeful and grateful RSVP, yet I’d feel bad to go to a birthday party without a present for the guest of honor. I had the ‘great’ idea of carving something for Jess, but no, I don’t have enough time or the material for it. Anyway I have no ‘carving’ talent. All I’ve been doing is smoothing out handles for sticks and such. Even this I’m not so great at.
I dunno what’s with me today, I feel unusually ____, and thoughtful at the same time, like my other current state, sleepy without wanting to sleep. I look back at today and think some more at what I’ve done today. It has been a thoughtful day. I have this thing when I run into stuff that I own that reminds me of someone who I think I’ve wronged in some usually stupid way, then I am taxed for at least a half hour till I get myself tot ink of something else. Today it was the A- essay that Fleckster handed back to me the last day of whenever that I was ecstatic about. This made me feel guilty about when I closed her trunk when I had finished putting my stuff in there along with Liz’s. I also felt guilty about how I couldn’t give her the opportunity for trusting me more than she did. The day she went around to check the portfolios on the last day, when she stumbled upon some of the random crap I slapped into it while I was overzealous about saving things when I made the folder for the portfolio. Such incidents of memory-of-guilt-inducing-objects make me feel horrible, unable to do anything about it, even scream I”M SORRY!!! At the top of my lungs..
And then here I am, explaining it to myself, hoping I can make myself feel better by jotting it down to you, journal. This stumbling on memory-of-guilt-inducing-objects is something I’ve never told to anyone, because they’d laugh at me, or inquire about how I’d wronged people. Goddamn song I’m listening to is too damn mushy for me at the moment. No more unchained melody for me. Ah.. much better.
On the topic of getting presents for mom an jess, I have thirty bux to buy them gifts. Mom is easy to buy a gift for, I remember buying her an african violet on the walk home from school. Yet jess is another story. She’s a friend, and a girl, and I’m not good at getting gifts for people unless I know every single thing their interested in. I know, I guess I can Email Diandra.. but I guess that’s pretty unreliable.
AIY! I’m unreliable, I have 25 hours to do in 2-3 weeks of summer left, I hafta do my service at the museum still.. Stupid Saiho had to n break his collar bone an eat up 2/3 weeks of my summer I needed!!! GHAAAH! I’ll hafto do it all soon.
It’s three AM and I should be signing off journal
truly yours only baby,
-Sai
Dear Journal
For a long time in my life, I’ve searched for a sense of who I am as seen from the outside. My face, as I see it in the mirror is as intimate to me as, well my own face. However when I look in that mirror I see something there I cannot identify with. Whoever that guy is in the mirror before me he seems foreign. The 20 year old beside the guy in the mirror is his brother, while the one staring straight across from him is just me.
Another way of saying I’ve been “searching for myself” in a Holden Caulfieldesque way, is that I’ve been trying to fit that guy across from me into a stereotype which media has given me the, how can I say this understand. Today, this very hour, as I look at the guy staring back from the mirror I realize that there is no social slot that he can be easily slipped into, no hole to fit his peg into. He, like the rest of the humans on the face of the planet earth is completely unique. He is no nerd, he is no geek, he is no dork. He is the one that calls himself Saiyin Kwan. All he can do is be who he is most accustomed to being.
Many times in my life I’ve tried to give myself a new name, like jake, or jack, or whatever. In each instance the new name is distant, someone else who happens to have that same identifying name. On that dotted line, that different name doesn’t fit with the rest of the document, or the hand that writes it. It makes me feel, only uncomfortable, like sitting in the couch of someone else, sleeping in a bed that isn’t mine. As best described in an Evangelion episode, it is an “unfamiliar ceiling”.
There, I’ve had it out. I can only lead a life to what I am, not as a stereotype, not as another block to add to the lego castle. Now, on to the rest of the normal journal stuffs. Today was a normal day, with things that made it feel very unusual. Things occur that make it separate from what was becoming a norm. I remembered today that next week Friday is jessica’s birthday party, and that the thirty first of this month is my mother’s birthday. Not only are these great and wonderful events, but I have yet to buy both gifts. Aiy ya is the phrase that settles best in this gap in internal conversation. For now, I’ve planned to have mom take me to Barnes and Noble to get presents for at least one of the two, Jessica, whom I’ve already told I’ll go to her b-day bash, on the 19th of July. This of course was a gleeful and grateful RSVP, yet I’d feel bad to go to a birthday party without a present for the guest of honor. I had the ‘great’ idea of carving something for Jess, but no, I don’t have enough time or the material for it. Anyway I have no ‘carving’ talent. All I’ve been doing is smoothing out handles for sticks and such. Even this I’m not so great at.
I dunno what’s with me today, I feel unusually ____, and thoughtful at the same time, like my other current state, sleepy without wanting to sleep. I look back at today and think some more at what I’ve done today. It has been a thoughtful day. I have this thing when I run into stuff that I own that reminds me of someone who I think I’ve wronged in some usually stupid way, then I am taxed for at least a half hour till I get myself tot ink of something else. Today it was the A- essay that Fleckster handed back to me the last day of whenever that I was ecstatic about. This made me feel guilty about when I closed her trunk when I had finished putting my stuff in there along with Liz’s. I also felt guilty about how I couldn’t give her the opportunity for trusting me more than she did. The day she went around to check the portfolios on the last day, when she stumbled upon some of the random crap I slapped into it while I was overzealous about saving things when I made the folder for the portfolio. Such incidents of memory-of-guilt-inducing-objects make me feel horrible, unable to do anything about it, even scream I”M SORRY!!! At the top of my lungs..
And then here I am, explaining it to myself, hoping I can make myself feel better by jotting it down to you, journal. This stumbling on memory-of-guilt-inducing-objects is something I’ve never told to anyone, because they’d laugh at me, or inquire about how I’d wronged people. Goddamn song I’m listening to is too damn mushy for me at the moment. No more unchained melody for me. Ah.. much better.
On the topic of getting presents for mom an jess, I have thirty bux to buy them gifts. Mom is easy to buy a gift for, I remember buying her an african violet on the walk home from school. Yet jess is another story. She’s a friend, and a girl, and I’m not good at getting gifts for people unless I know every single thing their interested in. I know, I guess I can Email Diandra.. but I guess that’s pretty unreliable.
AIY! I’m unreliable, I have 25 hours to do in 2-3 weeks of summer left, I hafta do my service at the museum still.. Stupid Saiho had to n break his collar bone an eat up 2/3 weeks of my summer I needed!!! GHAAAH! I’ll hafto do it all soon.
It’s three AM and I should be signing off journal
truly yours only baby,
-Sai