I see a lot of parents on the bus. Many are tired. Some ignore their kids and others protect them fiercely. Most tell their kids to sit down at least once, often many times and in a stern voice. The bus can be dangerous, and there are no child seats, though they do get to ride for free.

Today, I saw a father with a young son (could stand and say “da-da” but not really talk yet – I don't know how old that is). The man was sitting turned toward his son with his arm on the back of the seat and looking out the windows. The baby bag was on the other side. The child started investigating the side pocket of the bag. He told out a baby medicine bottle. He looked at it carefully, and the man glanced down to see what he was doing and did not interfere. After a few second, the boy handed the bottle to his father, who examined it in turn and then continued looking outside, the bottle held loosely in his hands in his lap. Meanwhile, the kid took another bottle from the pocket and gave it his visual examination. He then handed the second bottle to his father, who again gave it a careful examination. Finding nothing else in the pocket, the boy then turned to his father and gestured for the bottles back. He first took one and put it back in the pocket and then the other. The father glanced down, but said nothing. The child then took the bottles out again, one at a time, examined them again, and again handed them to his father, who patiently took them. The child then returned them, this time taking both at once in one hand, a difficult feat for one with such small hands. He did it again, this time tasting the bottles gently during his examination and picking up the bottles with one up and one down in the same hand where before they had both been facing the same direction.

This went on for a while, with the child never once being told to stop and never repeating the pattern exactly the same, only ending with the bottles back in the pocket and, upon approaching the local amusement park, gleeful, “da-da-da-da!”s prompted the father to look where the child was pointing and agree that it was really cool. When the kid stood up to get a closer look, his hand hovered near, but not touching when the bus turned corners and made sudden starts and stops, making sure the kid didn't fall without smothering him. They were both smiling and happy when they looked at each other, but they didn't have to look at each other all the time.

They seemed comfortable and glad to be around each other, which made me happy. Most parents don't seem to like kids very much. I thought of my camera, which was in my bag. I often want to take pictures when I ride the bus; I see such inspiring things, like a whole multitude of aged representatives of races sitting side by side like I know they wouldn't have when they were younger, proving that society can change without just waiting for people to die and multiracial families and friends. I don't because it would probably bother people and ruin what I was watching, but this one would have been entitled “A parent raising a warm, inquisitive, and dignified young man or a man treating a child well.”

It's funny how I know time passes because I swing back and forth, back and forth. I think its funny when people say that they wish time would stop, for it's a vector quantity and wouldn't be itself without motion. What I mean is that I always feel it going forward or backward, rising and falling like my moods, laughs, and aches. My memory goes forward and backward. If I think before I speak, I don't remember to say what I thought. That's the trouble with planning classes, too - I tend to forget to do the things I most carefully plan out, even if they're on the plan right in front of me. I tend to just go with what occurs to me at the time, like spending Language Arts going over the vocabulary instead of finishing with the Past Tense stuff I started on Thursday. That's part of the problem, too, that I'd already planned out what I wanted to do Friday and Monday and neglected to internalize the changes due to how much time things took on Thursday. I could blame the head injury, I suppose, but that's really incidental. Sometimes, I can get them all, but it seems like they don't really learn much when I have them all at attention, though, actually, I think that's when we're putting things together, so they're understanding more, but it doesn't test well. I mean, getting the idea that the physical region of a Native American tribe strongly influenced its culture due to resource availability is great, but the test wants to know how the Souix were different from the Pueblo. That's kind of like how spelling really makes more of a difference than ideas in the way that lousy spelling is a complete shut-down. On and off are much more different than quiet and loud.

Responses
I don't know how to talk anymore. I need to learn again, since I'm moving out on my own in a few days. I need to learn how to sleep again. I don't care about rejection, so long as it doesn't get in my way. It's usually all or nothing with me. It's funny that "The Fountainhead" is the same as I remember it and nothing like Pat and Michael remember it.

I am unmoved by the baby shower currently taking the place of my class. Ooh, ahh, everyone goes, but I don't really care. I love kids, but babies are boring, especially before they're born.

Waitress reminded me of Komarr. I really enjoyed my last two evenings, calm and peaceful. It's been a good weekend. Am I ready for tomorrow? Yes. Am I ready for Tuesday? No. I don't feel like finishing my lesson plan so I can send it off to be reviewed before my observation on Tuesday. I almost feel grownup. I say this as I drink my grape Kool-aid with extra purple sprinkles.

Alienation, that's the key. Really, I think it's interesting that people plan out their lives and know what they're supposed to do. It just seems fairly arbitrary to me. I mean, there's lots of things to do and lots of ways to be happy. There's plenty of variety. I miss being able to relax completely, though. I miss comfortable and comforting physical contact, feeling warm and safe. It's ironic that I shy away from it generally. I'm not sure how to explain that.

I finished "Sunshine" by Robin McKinley. She's so interesting! Does anyone else think the lyrics to the song are just a tad creepy, though?

It's peaceful having a routine where I only see people at set times - perhaps not good for me, but peaceful. I like reading and watching movies, and dealing with people stresses me out, so maybe this is what I should do. I just don't laugh quite as much, but perhaps moderating my emotions is good, too. They already seem to be a bit much anyway. I'm not sure if I'm losing myself or finding myself without my close friends. I don't know what I'm going to say, and I worry about my judgment. Will anyone tell me if I'm getting close to over the top? I know it's fast and people don't like to speak up until things are extreme, but I don't know how to moderate it. The advice seems to be to keep detailed journals so that I can track overall patterns. I don't know if I can do that, though. I'd be tempted to read back through them and make them more consistent for my own sanity. Who am I kidding? I could just write it and quit if I thought it really mattered to anyone else. Will it make a difference to anyone? I feel like I should be working more, but I also slept a lot this weekend, so hopefully this week'll be easier. It would be nice if it worked that way, what with momentum being a vector quantity and all that jazz. In the sequel to "Stargirl," "Love, Stargirl," she makes friends with a women who hasn't left her house in years. They develop a signal for bad days where the woman hangs a red sock or something in the window or on the doorknob or something, and Stargirl and a young girl she's friends with pile in for operation "cheer up." I'd like something like that, except I don't know if I could hang out the sock. It's so hard to reach out, which is why it's easier in a crowded house where people can see. I miss Louisa May Alcott.

"Georgia Rule" and "In the Land of Women" - two of the most interesting movies I've ever seen in terms of female characters and their behavior and reasons, for they have reasons for what they do, even though they may seem irrational from outside, and, with most stories told by men, they've mostly been portrayed from outside. "Catch and Release" was another interesting one this year, especially since its production was actually more controlled by women than the previous two. My mentor thinks I should be worried about the table of guys in the back who don't listen to me because I'm a woman, but I'm more worried about the girl in the front who won't listen to me because she doesn't think she can do physics, that it is too hard. What do I need respect for, so long as the job gets done? I think that's it, the compromise women have made throughout the ages. Reproductively, it makes sense, I guess. I see people, but I don't know what to say to make them happy when they need it. I guess that's fair, though, since they can't cheer me up either. I realized a few days back how impulsive I am, but as easy as it is to decide to bike to Adrian, it is that hard to invite anyone along. The a Capella group, Ladies First, was beautiful tonight, but their songs were all about love, and mostly love lost.

My dad was there at Tienanmen square in 1989. According to Wikipedia, "The Chinese government has maintained that there were no deaths within the square itself, although videos taken there at the time recorded the sound of gunshots." but he was there and he saw the tanks, some mounted with blades, piling up the bodies of students and protesters, which were then set on fire. He was in the hotel with the CNN news reporters who were trying to send back the footage, but were being blocked. A whole group of people saw it, but the government maintains that it didn't happen. I mean, let's face it: it's hard enough to get people to learn history when you admit it, let alone when you deny it. Well, for everyone still unsure: it happened. People were massacred, some of whom he had just eaten dinner with. People need to be free to speak; though it may sometimes cause trouble, they need to be free to speak. A country where they do not feel safe doing so is not one where I would choose to live.

The song of the day is "Strong Enough" by Sheryl Crow. It's either guilt for emotionlessness or cheesiness for emotionalness. Why is self-worth even an issue? Shouldn't there be a self-preservation instinct to deal with this automatically? I remember the part in "Eva" (Peter Dickinson, of Flight of Dragons fame) when the young people throw themselves in the water because of overpopulation. One of the things I like about Baryarrar is how much room there is and how no one worries about overpopulation, but rather celebrate life and immigration (even if there is a bit of mutanicide still lingering). I was really happy today, walking through the sunshine. Should I have stayed outside like I wanted to, like I did yesterday, or should I have gone to work and planned my lessons for tomorrow, like I did? It's dark now, so there's no kiss of sunshine. I think eigenvectors are atoms, they are bone, they are building blocks, the essence of matrices hidden within. I feel boring. Why is my self-concept so dependent on other people, despite it all? When my students looked bored at the museum and asked if they could leave, I knew I shouldn't let it get to me, but it did. When Eddard lied and said he was a traitor, I saw it coming, but I wanted to give him a chance anyway. Why couldn't he have held out? Real people do - real people are heros. It didn't add anything to the book to have him betray himself, but it took something from me. Why is it so important to make characters obviously flawed? Why can't they make flaws hard to find? Why can't they make characters to be admired, people I like? It's so pretentious, so god-like. Can't they just make mistakes like real people? Why does it have to be an inherent flaw? I really like the movie "Phenomenon." Boys make me cry. I only cried when I got physically hurt or really angry before. Now, it doesn't take much. I made myself cry just then, back at "inherent flaw." Sundays do make me feel pathetic, so I'd better get home. After all, down with destiny! Up with self-determination! Cheerful, aren't I? I love Michigan weather because it makes other people's moods predictable.

It seems really terrible to me to have people thinking about me when I'm not around. I have no influence over the idea they build up then, you see. I can't experiment and tweak things. It's quite stressful. It's funny that they sell "Thinking of you" cards and such. If Pat really wants me to call him back, he should give me his phone number. I did leave word that the ones I have don't seem to work. Neglect may be a form of abuse, but I'm rarely sure enough of how I interact with some to judge it worse than the communication I might otherwise employ. Why am I so troubled by these things that aren't supposed to trouble people, according to most of my books? I don't really relate to epic problems.

The thing is that I distrust experience as a friend-making device because people seem to naturally grow attached to familiar things, but that doesn't mean they like you. I just means they're used to you. I also distrust introductions by other friends, since they're libel to just tolerate you because their friend likes you. That brings it down to nice people, whom you just can't trust to tell the truth because they're nice people and the truth isn't always nice. I'm going stir-crazy!

Links returned to life!

Literature - I really wanted to discuss these then
Death Be Not Proud - It keeps coming back
The accompanying essay
King Lear
No Exit
The Tell-Tale Heart in Rhyme
The writing process at work
A Sonnet to Science

Writing about Heart of Darkness in high school
or why I quit writing; I just couldn't get the words to say what I meant

Marlow, Kurtz, and Isolation
Marlow's Glimpse of Kurtz
Marlow's Decisions

Mysterious Stuff The Mysterious Writings of a frantic high schooler
Old Elvish
Pretty Anime Pictures
Dance
The result of AP Bio
The Storehouse for freshman programming - I repeat: it's doomed!
The Cast of the Play that was early high school
A Halloween Essay for Spanish - One of the longest things I ever wrote besides Nardo - 2nd Year!
Yes, I actually wrote a poem

Stuff about Me
102 statements written to match Amber
The Infamous and Wordy 'I am' Page Babble
Family Photos What I thought was good stuff in 10th grade
One day
Pictures from when I lived in Holmes Hall
March 10, 2002
Whatever

If making sense of memory requires telling stories, I guess that explains why I have to write here, talk to close friends, or live lost in a gray fuzz. The fuzz is dangerous. It's what has me trapped here. I get way to addicted to people; I use them to keep myself together, which seems too selfish because they don't need to do the same thing. Well, Leslie did and Dana did, but they're far away and I'm still trying to live where I am. I tried spreading my stories out among several people, but I don't know - it seems to make them more edited, but hey, my stories have been edited for years. I miss being able to say anything. It's partially because I guard other people's secrets now, so I guess that's inevitable. I don't know why I feel so annoying, but I do. I'm pretty far in my own world right now; it's hard for me to hear other people, so maybe that's why. When I'm closer to the surface, things are lighter and I don't have so much trouble (or need so much recovery time from interaction). Jennifer's probably right - I don't know - everyone seems interesting to me if you just get them talking, but some people find others annoying, like poor Texas. I fear people treating me like they treat her - especially nice people. You can't trust nice people. I know perfectly well that confidence is attractive, unlike wallowing in self-doubt, but nothing sits well with me. I need to talk more to older women - that's it, find role models! I don't know, I don't know, I don't know! This is all way too stressful for me. What does it mean that I'm relating to Avril Lavigne (and I don't mean the cat)? I have a really hard time with somewhere in-between. I need clearly defined roles. I'm fine with jumping and changing roles - just let me know - just pick something - define yourself in relationship to me - you can be whatever you want, but how do you want me to address you? How much of a filter would you like and what kind? I think that's the heart of it. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a college student when I grew up. That's about as far as it went. I fall hard - that's what I do. It's all or nothing, despite my futile attempts at balance. I try and I try and I try... Everything's all shaky, so I just want to fall. Juliet's worried about me. So is this just life not boring or life too exciting? I need to listen more to other people; I spend too much time listening to myself. Well, that or stop doubting my mental health. People will tell me if I'm bothering them, right? At least now this has deteriorated enough that I know someone who wades through it really wants to know - I would hate to subject anyone to this. Why don't I just keep a diary? I don't know, but I do prefer typing. I suppose I could type a diary, but this is also a link to the outside world - a possibility for understanding. Besides, maybe it'll help someone. I know writing for myself wouldn't. Being a writer is all about audience awareness, they tell me, but I'm not aware. I'm so self-conscious and self-centered that it doesn't really matter who I'm talking to - probably a coping mechanism - but should it? I'm not trying to convey information, but I'm not sure of my purpose. Today is teetering on the edge - just the edge of what I think of as "normal," which is not a familiar place for me. It's kind of nice, but it's a bit worrisome. In TE today, we learned how people usually go through stages in life: wanting to look like everyone else, wanting to look different from everyone else, and finally not caring what you look like in relation to others. I knew I missed something. I'll probably catch up with them when I'm fifty. The movie of the week is, "Dirty Dancing - Havana Nights." The music! The dancing! Central and South America draw me... It's funny - I remember the Cuban accent from when Senor Metz brought in the Cuba lady to visit our class. It's in the s's and the h's, as well as the vowels, especially in contrast to the northern Mexican accent he has and the b/v blend is more obvious that Senora Call's Bolivian accent. I could hear it the Mexican accent in the speaker's English, actually, which was funny because he switched to the Cuban accent to speak Spanish during the movie. I think so, anyway, but he didn't speak any Spanish in the making-of part, so I guess I need to rent some more movies to test my hypothesis. Frida, I think, which I've been waiting to see since Swapna saw it in Mexico (I saw "Treasure Planet" - aren't I the mature one? It was much better in Spanish, in my opinion - rather good! The bad jokes, just like in Tarzan, are funnier to me when I have to work to understand them, and things aren't so cheesy.) Fencing season starts this weekend. My headaches have started again, and, with this edgy feeling, I'm not sure if it's a good time to start. It's also possible that the fencing is causing the panic, but I rather doubt it. These moods seem to come whatever I do, which was particularly amusing (in a detached sort of way) when I have months in the summer when I'm stress free and just doing whatever I want - sometimes with great exhilaration and sleeplessness and sometimes with great tiredness and sleeplessness. I'm still sleeping, although I've been waking up really early (like 5 am) even when my alarm is set for 7. I've been trying to go back to sleep, but I don't know how wise that is, since it leaves me more tired. I didn't one day, but I didn't work that afternoon, either. I saw "Catch and Release" instead. Yesterday, it was "Freedom Writers." Today, it was a play, "If Anything is Sacred...," which was about a woman who "disappeared" during the revolution in the 70s in Chile. I also went to Anime Club and Fencing, surprise, surprise. This is the mood where people seem to like me the most - I talked to so many people today! It's so easy to be friendly sometimes - even banter! I'm sore, though - my ankle and my back. I don't know - everything's rushing about. I'm not sure what's going to happen in class tomorrow even though I planned for hours. I'm not sure what I'm doing. I just read, "The Phoenix Dance" after "Aria of the Sea," by Dia Calhoun, which were absorbing, unexpected books. It's probably better to escape into books and movies than bother others in this state for extended periods of time. I haven't written my "response" to Jackendoff yet! It's due tomorrow! [Timon voice] It starts...

Now presenting my personality, which actually seems fairly accurate, especially after reading up on some of the "most positive" explanations.

Crackpot - INTJ 20% Extraversion, 73% Intuition, 73% Thinking, 53% Judging

People hate you. Paris Hilton hates Nicole Richie. Lex Luther hates Superman. Garfield hates Mondays. But none these even rates against the insurmountable hate, people have for you. I mean, you're pretty damn clever and you know it. You love to flaunt your potential. Heard the word "arrogant" lately? How about "jerk?" Or perhaps they only say that behind your back. That's right. I know I can say this cause you're not going to cry. You're not exactly the most emotional person. You'd rather spend time with your theoretical questions and abstract theories than with other people. Ever been kissed? Ever even been on a date? Trust me, your inflated ego is a complete turnoff with the opposite sex and I am telling you, you're not that great with relationships as it is. You're never going to be a dude or chick magnet, purely because you're more concerned with yourself than others. Meh. They all hate you already anyway. How about this- "stubborn?" Hrm? Heard that lately? All those facts which don't fit your theories must just be wrong, right? I mean, really, the vast amounts of time you spend with your head in the clouds...you're just plain strange. ***************** If you want to learn more about your personality type in a slightly less negative way, check out this.

I figure I've got to figure out what I'm currently like if I want to logically go about improving myself, although that seems a bit selfish, wasting time on such a useless pursuit, but hey, my self-esteem is currently not doing so hot and I feel rather like a burden on the world, which is not good. I'm not really self-disciplined, despite thinking that I was. It's more that I have a strong sense of duty towards others that motivates me in a direction that looks disciplined. For example, for years I've meant to institute a daily stretch routine, yet rarely have such attempts lasted more than one day. I'm not good at forming habits, which is bizzare considering my lack of love of change. We'll see how tomorrow goes, but perhaps my mentioning it hear will interfere with matters. If so, I guess that's good, but not what I'd really like. I also indulge in rather more escapism than I admire, in the form of puzzles and games. When I have an overarching problem to work on, they do help take my mind off things, but when I don't they seem silly and like I'm avoiding deciding what to do. I'm not a perfectionist, either, and I don't like reading my own writing because it isn't good enough, so I guess I am a perfectionist, but a lazy one. I rarely take the time to do things well because I don't think I'm talented enough to make it worthwhile. My best still won't be good enough, so why try my best when just a bit of effort is already better than many people's? If I put my all into it, everyone will know that I'm untalented. It's a self-handicapping behavior, according to my TE book. I'm in a rather vile mood for no good reason: I don't want to work or study or anything. I'm more dreading designing my course than anticipating it like I was weeks ago. ESL science: great, right? Maybe it'll pass when I meet my new students, but I should design the course tomorrow... or Monday ... or Tuesday when I have an idea how many students I'll have. Having a science fair would be cool. They're not going to have a choice about whether to take my course or not, though, which doesn't thrill me. It means I have to tone things down a little. We're going to do experiments, though. I should get a lab coat: that'd make things more fun. At 8 am. I should check and see if I get a textbook for antho. - five of them, it appears, one entitled "Karaoke Nights," intriguingly enough. I really hope that class is interesting because I don't have high hopes at all for TE 408. At least I 4.0ed TE 407, despite deep trauma that I may never recover from. I am determined, though, so I do see things through, like graduating with my physics degrees, I will get my teaching certification. I don't give up, which may count as a virtue, I guess, except that I have given up before. I gave up on making people love me back because I thought it was the respectful thing to do. Like Pippin (from "Pippin"), I'm not extraordinary, despite the high expectations of some. I'm not that ambitious. I don't particularly desire fame or a fortune. When it comes to choosing someone for a job, I generally think there's someone else better than me. I'm not really good at anything. I guess I just need to accept that and move on. I'm not sure what that means, though. Does it mean I try other things or work harder concentrating on what I'm already doing? A jack of all trades, master of none, I think I can do that. This whole monologue is depressing - I suppose I should just give up and try to fo to sleep.

I like reading. I don't read for information or stories, though. For stories, I'd rather watch a movie. For information, I'd rather hear a lecture. Reading is about phrases and they way they're put together. It's about voice and style. I'm a rereader. I long to read things I've read before, and it's rather stressful and trying to read new things except those where the author continues with their own voice, which is probably why artsy, creative things are not really my cup of tea. I prefer perfection of expression to creation, I guess, which really doesn't match my writing or other art work. Actually, I prefer familiar music and movies, as well as food. I'm all about appreciation of other angles and details as opposed to the great worship of "originality." I think it's hard enough to tell the truth without obscuring things with artificially imposed conditions just to be different. I'm about making connections, but I'm not an authority on anything.

Some of my Favorite Things
Chocolate fudge
Candy Canes
The taste of cold Mt. Dew
The tast of sun-warmed Mt. Dew
Treehouses
Talking about books that other people have also read, which actually doesn't happen very often.
Libraries
Rereading books when I feel like it
Riverbanks
Leaping dancers
Listening to people talk about things they are proud of doing, like the brickwork or plumbing for buildings
Listening to songs on repeat
Open spaces in rooms suitable for spontaneous dancing
Old decidious trees
Singing along to music in the car
Singing with my mom or my sister (although doing it in church is generally a bad idea because we all crack up: we're soooo bad!)
When my students succeed
People's faces on the bus
Nine Days' enthusiasm
Well-done characterizations and dialogue
Live theater close enough to see people's facial expressions and body language
Wikipedia
11 p.m.
Bold colors
Posters
Clever puns and rhymes
Grins
People who remember me as I try to be, like Amber
the line, "I would like to build something,"
beautiful phrases
Analogies and metaphors that add up to the same idea, especially scientific ones
Big desks
Laptops
Themes
Making decisions

Some of my least favorite things
More than one new thing at a time
Trying to get information from people
Trying to make polite small talk
Dealing with more than one person at a time in an unstructured setting
Waiting for other people to make decisions
Being told what to do
Personal remarks about appearance or habits (eating, dressing, or driving)
Strong tastes, smells (especially alcohol, cigarette smoke, coffee, and spiced food), or sounds (very low or loud ones)
Irrational negative statements
The idea of pure emotion
Being dependent on other people to fulfill my responsibilities

Merry Christmas to all! (Or Happy Christmas! if you're feeling British today)

The funny thing about Lifehouse is that I think people discriminate against the main dude 'cause he's openly Christian. I find that really sad, for how far have we come if we've just flipped sides?

Modern Myths I've noticed
Smart people use Macs and don't believe in God.
All women like dark chocolate.
French food is what all people dream of eating.
Girls can't do math and are extremely focused on being cute.
Boys hate talking about love.

I dislike talking to people about things they've talked to other people about before if the ratio of thinking to talking is not an extreme one. I don't want people making it all up on the fly because it tends not to make sense, but I dislike rehearsed arguements. That's why Ryan always annoyed me and my brother often does. They just don't listen either, to see if you're following them. It's all about sharing their wisdom. I'm probably just as bad, but I never said I'd like to talk to myself, which is why I only tend to do it when others are around that I can't connect to directly. It's kind of an indirect invitation, rather like this page. Ok, I'm focusing on relaxing, taking it easy, and not worrying about wasting time. I'm not getting any younger, true, but it doesn't really matter. If I'm old and alone, I'm also young and alone, so I'm going to figure out how not to mind it. I can do it; I've done it before. Freedom is unimportant when I don't really want to do anything, so I have to start wanting something so I can appreciate what I have. It's Tamora Pierce time! Today's book is "Trickster's Choice."

"We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst."
— C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man

I wonder how I fit together. I'm drawn to travel and see the world, and I've said I wanted to travel the world and teach English, but I'm also driven to build my own home and community, to "make my environment a product of myself" instead of "to be a product of my surroundings." On one hand, I envy my friend, James, for having traveled so far and wide, worked many places, and learned tons of new things. He's very brave to leave everything behind. On the other, I know myself that each new place I go leads to a new surface personality adapted to fit my environment. I want to choose who I am. Maybe I can choose by choosing where I go, but I'm scared of that. I've tried to build myself on the past, but I think it might be more the choices that I make than the ones I've made, so I have to trust people. I'm afraid of forgetting myself. I see myself in my cat, my books, my posters, my trees, and my rivers. I've been practicing moving each year, and, while it's getting easier, I don't know if I'm ready. I wonder if Marilyn is going to still teach that English Language Summer Camp in Japan this summer and if she'd still like me to be part of it. Kari also expressed interest in coming to Camp Linden to work as the riding director with me. I would really like either of them. I think I've learned a lot from doggedly staying where I am, forcing me to learn to get along with more people. For me, the people I used to get along with I got along with all at once and right away - meeting followed by hours of conversation and disrupted sleep. Talking was very important, and it was urgent to share what I thought so that I wouldn't have to worry about them later figuring out who I really was and despising me. Amber, of course, is fairly correct in saying that I am constantly on guard for people to dislike me and be annoyed by me. Tolerate. I hate the very word.

"The term "tolerance" itself, like "toleration", is controversial and disliked by some due to its implication that the "tolerated" custom or behavior is in fact an aberration. Tolerance implies both the ability to punish and the conscious decision not to, but makes no statement to higher principle."
- Wikipedia

I don't want to be tolerated. I want to be appreciated, but while I can avoid tolerance by making people mad enough that they can't stand me, I can't make them appreciate me. Moreover, criticism is easy to believe, but, as for praise, I've heard too many lies, too many people "just being nice." How about, if you can't say something true, don't say anything at all? Apparently, I'm supposed to learn from making mistakes, but if the world reacts falsely, how can I learn? Frustration and patience don't seem to be as connected as they appear. My frustration comes from failure, but patience comes with direction, yet it is frustrating not to have direction, but I've only had trouble with that when trying to coordinate with other people. I do know where I'm going, but I don't know who's going to be there on the way or at the end. Yesterday, I read "Cripin: The Lead Cross," by Avi, and Bear was amazed that Crispin felt like he was nothing, yet that he was sure he was being pursued and at the center of a huge plot. Of course, he was at the center of it all (being the main character) but because of who he was expected to be, not who he was.

To Do
Figure out: Expectations and Cooperation

I've found that it's hard to communicate expectations without limiting creativity and freedom, but saying that I was going to give points for creativity really helped.

"I'm game." - That's what I like to hear.

Giving credit where credit's due
From Aaron, I learned the meaning of the words, "Why not?" and "for variety."
From Mike, I learned about relaxing, hanging out, and not making a big deal of little things.

Aaron always had a plan, and Mike, never.
Lists and lists of things to ask me about.
Endless endearments.
Yet, despite my trouble, I don't think I was ever who they thought I was. People see what they want to see, so why would they want me? It's not that I don't think I'm great (I do), but I don't think it's likely that anyone else's idea of great matches mine all that well. No, that's not quite right, since I consider myself a rational being and not really as random as some say. I don't think I'd be particularly attracted to myself if I wasn't myself, but I don't think we'd argue. We'd make good siblings.

Appreciation.
What's the deal? Almost everything has something beautiful about it, and I see it. When I was little, I liked to wrap my towel around my head so just my eyes and eyebrows showed. I figured, if everyone only saw my eyes and eyebrows, they'd know I knew I was beautiful, , so we could just take that for granted and move on. With a lot of people, it's their smile in action (pictures just don't do them justice), which is part of why I like movies. You get to watch people (without the "staring problem") and see how they're beautiful. Riding the bus is pretty good, too, and affords a lot more variety, but it's trickier to stare off into space. With some people, it's their phrasing, and those are the people it's fun to chat with. With others, it's their voice (phone people). Generally speaking, it's pretty much easiest to appreciate most people when they are right there in front of me. Some people I like for their ideas, and that's easier when they aren't there to muck them up by being hypocritical. The most attractive things about a person, I think, are their choices, which is why it's much easier to love someone who loves you, putting crushes into another category. I won't read back through this for a while, if at all, because it hurts to say it all so dramatically, but otherwise it'll all stay scattered safely about, like the heart in a box in fairy tale, and I'm not sure that's the way to really make progress. Survive, yes, but not make progress.

Oh, and you're forbidden from worrying about me. I did eat lunch, after all. I'll let you know if I need help. Thanks for caring all the same, but please trust me.

Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction.
--Antoine de Saint-Exupery

More lyrics for today: (I'm obviously so over him.)

Motorcycle Drive By

Third Eye Blind

Summer time and the wind is blowing outside
in lower Chelsea
And I don't know what I'm doing in this city
The sun is always in my eyes
It crashes through the windows
And I'm sleeping on the couch
When I came to visit you
That's when I knew
That I could never have you
I knew that before you did
Still I'm the one who's stupid
And there's this burning
Like there's always been
I've never been so alone
And I've
Never been so alive
This is a view on a motorcycle drive by
The cigarette ash flies in your eyes and you don't mind
You smile
And say the world it doesn't fit with you
I don't believe you
You're so serene
Careening through the universe
Your axis on a tilt
You're guiltless and free
I hope you take a piece of me with you

And there's things I'd like to do
That you don't believe in
I would like to build something
But you'll never see it happen
And there's this burning
Like there's always been
I've never been so alone
And I've
I've never been so alive

And there's this burning
There is this burning
(yeaa)

Where's the soul I want to know
New York City's evil
The surface is everything
But I could never do that
Someone would see through that
And this is the last time
We'll be friends again
And I'll get over you
You'll wonder who I am
And there's this burning,
Just like there's always been
I've never been so alone, alone
And I've, and I've
I've never been so alive

So alive

I go home to the coast
It starts to rain I paddle out on the water
Alone
Taste the salt and taste the pain
I'm not thinking of you again
Summer dies and swells rise
The sun goes down in my eyes
See this rolling wave
Darkly coming
To take me
Home

And I've
Never been so alone
And I've
Never been so alive

So, this year's the year of reflection. It's about personal choices and other people's personal choices. I feel like if no one knows me but me, there's no point in existing, but it's frustrating to be misunderstood.

"To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. But it is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence one becomes steadily the person one desires to be."

--Anna Louise Strong

I tried again, I went last night.
Another date was just not right.
And as I drove myself back home,
A little voice said just be alone,
But sometimes I think I see you in a crowd,
It's not picture perfect, but you're meant for me somehow,

And I'll miss you till I meet you,
I'll miss you till I meet you,
I miss you all the time.

I love the world just as it is.
And I won't lose my faith in it.
But there are days I think of you
Saying, 'hey, that's beautiful,
Yeah, I see it too.'
It all goes by so fast, like waving hands
You want to capture things,
find someone who understands,

And I'll miss you till I meet you,
I'll miss you till I meet you,
I miss you all the time.

Can you keep me awake?
I thought you could help,
Just to feel my way,
Find my better self.

I'll miss you, I'll miss you, I miss you all the time.

-Dar Williams
On a related note: "Social Critic Neil Postman contrasts the worlds of 1984 and Brave New World in the foreword of his 1986 book Amusing Ourselves to Death. He writes: What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny "failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions." In 1984, Huxley added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us." - Wikipedia (Such an interesting thing)

On a slightly less related note:
“Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.”
— Nazi Reich Marshal Hermann Göring during the Nuremberg Trials.

Here's my sci-fi idea: The government is selling drugs to rebellious groups to distract them from the real world and avoid trouble, as well as fund itself.

editor