(no subject)
Hey, sorry I haven’t updated this thing more often. The multitudes have been calling for it. Ha. I regret it myself-think I got something to say.
I’ve been making an effort to stop looking so repulsive. Working out with the boyz (Jamy and Carlos) is jolly and quaint. I like it. Also been running around the neighborhood. Though I’m real convinced the trees are alive and will attack me one night-when I’m susceptible with my loud music playing, yes.
School is about as normal and fine as it can be, mostly. Grades are quite well despite my unimpressive attendance rate.
I’ve also lent out a piece of myself to someone else. It was well packed and neatly presented. But I’m worried about getting the results back. I stand there bright eyed and open eared and the opposite eyes return with nothing, and more nothingness. So I may be standing there questioning.
I think Jane Monte is beautiful. I had a milky dream (as if someone accidentally poured some creamer in it) where I was on a moving school bus with my head balanced up against the glass of the window. I banged gently against it with every bump from the tires-you know the feeling. Another bus then comes up in the next land with us, and I turn, and Jane is there through the window. It was a nice dream and I can’t get it or her out of my head-which is notable.
I feel that I’m getting to the meat of what I want to say. Whatever I’ve been doing (grades, relationships, fitness) they’re starting to carry a certain responsibility, meaning, or dignity with them. By working hard and doing the right thing, my way of life is changing into one full of meaning and importance-from the one devoid of such things, where I was callous and numb. But it also hurts deep when I’m not successful. Before I could say to myself, “Hey bud, you never loose something you never had,” which was meaning and important, and it was true. But it hurts deep now.
Example and description. I wish English class today didn’t happen. I genuinely care and invest enormous effort in there-it all goes wrong. Prides, motivations,pressures combine to produce this envoronment of living urgency, then glazed over well like glazed doughnuts. I got all worked up and I don’t ever want to again. I left there seething with heat and passion. I could feel my engine, Edward’s engine, deep within me-combusting, contracting, pumping uncontrollably. But it didn’t need to go and was only making heat and wasting fuel. And it made heat, I was radiating heat. I felt Edward’s little engine about to spasm and undergo convulsion and I just wanted to sprint in those crowded halls. If I have gained anything in my life it is my control and efficiency with my passion-when I have it. But I didn’t have it then. Now, I feel like I had the air punched put of my chest, left only with emptiness. I just want to catch my breath back.
School will only handicap the recovery. Noel’s little sister will surely scream her damn head off about me missing Spanish so much. And I’ll walk into US History and Caitlin will mutter from the corner of her mouth, “Wow, Ed is here.” I have nothing to say about me not going to school. And Caitlin is swell, a real chap.
A way of life full of meaning and dignity, hmm, we’ll see. Well that’s enough for now, I’ve written enough.
Last, don’t absolutely depend on it, but I want to try to see some of the nominated movies-at least the Best Picture ones-this weekend and the next weekends. Come with me. I’ll be nice and polite-a promise.
I’ve been making an effort to stop looking so repulsive. Working out with the boyz (Jamy and Carlos) is jolly and quaint. I like it. Also been running around the neighborhood. Though I’m real convinced the trees are alive and will attack me one night-when I’m susceptible with my loud music playing, yes.
School is about as normal and fine as it can be, mostly. Grades are quite well despite my unimpressive attendance rate.
I’ve also lent out a piece of myself to someone else. It was well packed and neatly presented. But I’m worried about getting the results back. I stand there bright eyed and open eared and the opposite eyes return with nothing, and more nothingness. So I may be standing there questioning.
I think Jane Monte is beautiful. I had a milky dream (as if someone accidentally poured some creamer in it) where I was on a moving school bus with my head balanced up against the glass of the window. I banged gently against it with every bump from the tires-you know the feeling. Another bus then comes up in the next land with us, and I turn, and Jane is there through the window. It was a nice dream and I can’t get it or her out of my head-which is notable.
I feel that I’m getting to the meat of what I want to say. Whatever I’ve been doing (grades, relationships, fitness) they’re starting to carry a certain responsibility, meaning, or dignity with them. By working hard and doing the right thing, my way of life is changing into one full of meaning and importance-from the one devoid of such things, where I was callous and numb. But it also hurts deep when I’m not successful. Before I could say to myself, “Hey bud, you never loose something you never had,” which was meaning and important, and it was true. But it hurts deep now.
Example and description. I wish English class today didn’t happen. I genuinely care and invest enormous effort in there-it all goes wrong. Prides, motivations,pressures combine to produce this envoronment of living urgency, then glazed over well like glazed doughnuts. I got all worked up and I don’t ever want to again. I left there seething with heat and passion. I could feel my engine, Edward’s engine, deep within me-combusting, contracting, pumping uncontrollably. But it didn’t need to go and was only making heat and wasting fuel. And it made heat, I was radiating heat. I felt Edward’s little engine about to spasm and undergo convulsion and I just wanted to sprint in those crowded halls. If I have gained anything in my life it is my control and efficiency with my passion-when I have it. But I didn’t have it then. Now, I feel like I had the air punched put of my chest, left only with emptiness. I just want to catch my breath back.
School will only handicap the recovery. Noel’s little sister will surely scream her damn head off about me missing Spanish so much. And I’ll walk into US History and Caitlin will mutter from the corner of her mouth, “Wow, Ed is here.” I have nothing to say about me not going to school. And Caitlin is swell, a real chap.
A way of life full of meaning and dignity, hmm, we’ll see. Well that’s enough for now, I’ve written enough.
Last, don’t absolutely depend on it, but I want to try to see some of the nominated movies-at least the Best Picture ones-this weekend and the next weekends. Come with me. I’ll be nice and polite-a promise.