death and odd circumstances

Tonight I watched the video of Budd Dwyer shooting himself. He committed a live public suicide at a press conference in 1987. I’ve already been sad lately and that video just depressed me more. I wish I hadn’t watched it, but then again… it adds color to experience seeing that stuff, seeing it all. You can see it at bestgore.com if you want....

"live suicide" is kind of an oxymoron isn't it?

His birthday, I later realized, is in two days…which is weird. I keep learning about new people who are already dead close to either their birthdays or date of death.

With e.e. cummings it was back in September and he died September 3. Then there was Eva Cassidy who I discovered near the end of October and she died November 2.

There was one more person, I can’t remember at the moment…

But now there’s Budd Dwyer, just two days before his birthday. It’s a lot of really odd coincidences. I’m not necessarily into thinking any of that means a thing….but it’s just an odd trend in my life lately.

I really want to remember who the other person was….

Ok! YAY! I just went through my Internet history and figured out who the other person was. It’s Roald Dahl. But he’s different because I didn’t just discover him. I’ve known about him since I was a little tiny child because I read his books all the time. I love his stories and I love that they were a part of my childhood.

But last weekend I picked up his biography from the library and renewed an ongoing interest in him. It was the bio Boy. Anyway, he died on November 23, which is coming up. His birthday was September 13. So, yet again another person close to their exit from life...makes an entrance into mine.

I T I H A T

everyone, if even only for a moment, contemplates the possibility of what it would be like to have a twin.

i have odd moments where i feel not alone when i am alone. there are so many mysteries surrounding my birth, some oddities and unexplained things.

not that I'm saying i truly think i have a twin...i mean I've seen my birth certificate. but it's fun to think about.

looking in the mirror feels not just familiar or even about myself. its like looking at someone i know really well.

maybe its all about division within self and mistaking it for something else.

i seem to never be wholly satisfied with anything. i love the "everything" category in all parts of life: supreme pizza, rainbows, everything bagels, the packages where you tour it all...

sometimes I'm an extrovert, sometimes introvert.

I'd say 54% I and 46% E

i feel removed moments of comfort, things i find within myself...extreme inner happiness, like it's a talent.

every mystery about the fiber of my being: the yearning, the frustrated at nothing sense, the peculiar connectedness with myself, seeing my own face like its a dear friend separate from me

seems too small and easy of an explanation.

^^^^^^^^<<<<<>>>>>>^^^^^^^^^

desire

not that kind.

this is more fundamental, closer to human origin, to the roots of beingcloser to the first kind of love. just like the first rain in Spring when it rouses out tiny buds of life from their partial-death hiatusi want what i cant have, and i love it still even though I know full well that it has no potential.but i dont care. its the only shred of hope ive ever had concerning it, so why should i stop?it is fed with fantasy, made-up scenarios....a complete internal world.only a frame of a human being and Ive added my favorite thingsyes, its unhealthy but we humans favor the things that are worst for us: chocolate cupcakes and french fries, coffee and cigarettes.i am no exceptioni am no exception to this love, this desire. Though my whole life has been about its absence.everything that is wrong with me, can be traced along the fissures of my soul, leading back to the origin again. leading back to that root cause....so fundamental this love

Social Disappointment

Sometimes it's too hard figuring out what people want. It's such an elusive thing, tying that down and conquering it.
I want to believe that I don't care whether I matter to people, but that's a lie. It's true I don't care what they think...about my beliefs, actions, appearance, etc.
But that ultimate dismissal of me overall of my whole self, the blank empty look in the eye of disinterest and boredom; the hazed over mishandling I've recieved; the failure to connect...that I can't take.
Because I know I have a lot to offer. I like myself a lot. In a healthy way, I am in love with myself, but not in conceitedness or pride, just honest perception of who I really am. There's a peace in knowing yourself inside out and being wholly satisfied with it. I cant live without other people, but I really am my own best friend....best friend.

The trouble is wanting too much intimacy with people. Something in me demands absolute genuine and honest portrayal from others. I try looking into people but they often wont let me in. Maybe I only look too much and not say enough. People respond to talking much better, whne you put yourself out in the open first, verbally. Everyone has their own fancy as well. We all like particular things...
It's silly to like someone else just because you have the same hobbies, you work in the same place, you have the same shirt, or you both like the movie Twilight or Harry Potter.

I dislike trivial connections, and I always want to skip past it and get to the ultimately comfortable presence of being with someone, platonic. Most people just like to have those phases of disclosure. I have to stop assuming people like themselves as much as I like myself, that they are comfortable within. People have things to hide.

I want people to come into me, to see all of me. Im not shy. Im not ashamed of anything that I am. I am so outrageously honest. I have no sense of privacy. I have no modesty. Im not as meek as people think.
I project myself onto others, assume they're just as comfortable. Maybe their dismissal shouldn't be taken so personally.

Changed Plans

Dan and I were supposed to go up to the Amana colonies for this Labor Day weekend and then go camping afterwards near the Mississippi River.

But then he woke up this morning with an extreme sore throat, maybe strep. So instead I've been writing and am glad of it. I love spending languid days reading and writing, with unabounded freedom.

I still need to shower, though it's 3 in the afternoon.
I am unintentionally losing weight.
I feel better.

Sometimes I briefly like the way my hair looks when I first wake up, then I actually wake up and realize it's a sloppy fray and array of feather-like explosion.

Dan is mad at me because I told him I dont want to move to Illinois next year. He thinks we're going to break up over it. I think he's being extreme. I'm oddly not worried about it, now that I've made up my mind. But I dont like that he's fretting.

I'm still pretty much a huge baby.

I'm probably never going to grow up.

My cat was lying on my books this morning so I couldn't read them. I stared at his fur in the sun instead and tried seeing past the tiny slits of his eyes, but all that happened was that I was overcome with cute emotion.

FRI

DAY is today but I've never been one to get excited about the weekend. I try to see everyday as good and just as fun as the next or one before it. Wekks go by way too fast if we're always focusing on weekends and wanting them to get here faster. Weekends pass too fast as well because its all that desire to have time to yourself, time as freedom. But you've got to take your little bits of freedom here and there. Tuesday night can be as fun as Saturday...well, if you're not alcoholically inclined...which I am not. Maybe thats why people can only have fun on weekends...other people I mean. Because they have to have alcohol in order to have fun.
Oh geez! Now this blog goes no where. I was trying to make another beaten to death carpe diem point but i realized in the midst that its stupid anyway...that most kids my age dont have the kind of fun I do. Most kids are entertained by the monotonous and trivial...by feigned grasps at social acceptance, excitement by "love" and "friendship"

i really turned in another direction completely. im really not this pessimistic and negative....or cynical.
i dont like insincerity. i dont like anything that is not genuine. im too damn nice and honest to be happy with the human race...at least not 100%

maybe more like 87.39%

The First One

i'm mainly into nonfiction. i write a ton of it.
maybe too much, i could be just boring. but someone suggested i make a blog.
i've never had one before and i dont know how devoted i'll really be.

this is probably going to get pretty confessional. thats sort of my style. i'll put in bits from my journal occasionally...which is a massive thing.

i'll try to be entertaining but, frankly, i dont care whether you find it entertaining.

what's my purpose then? will this be a place of catharsis? will this be a place of ego boost? am i just wanting attention?

a purpose...
i like not having one. i like randomness in life. thats where real meaning lies. look for the obscurities, the things that dont make sense, the anomalies
you might get me then.