an online journal delving into the mind of a would-be self proclaimed genius
Alright, moving on... my religious crisis, or maybe I should call it a crisis of Faith. Religion has such bad connotations nowadays... anyway I had to ask myself about my beliefs, what I was taught and what I think. I don't think I ever turned my back on my faith, maybe felt a little guilty like I was ignoring it, which I can say is very true and now I feel like I want to soak up as much of the Word as I can. Guess I have to make up for college somehow. Not like I went there to learn anyway.
10/10/2000 - So what's holding me back, except for the genius part? That's just what my roomate asked me as he glanced at the title to this page. Let me sum up my roommate in one story. First I should say that he is very straight at least most of the time. The time of this story was not one of those times. We were talking to his friend Christina, who is well, the village bicycle, everyone has had a ride. She asked if I was cute and his reply was: "If I had to pick one guy to do me up the butt. . ." well you get the idea. This is my roommate... BACKDOOR! Anyhow Janelle is also here, she is very much the Wistful Lover. So Janelle, just how is Ewic? He's got issues, but is fine (ain't that the truth, he needs more help than Janelle can give (I didn't think it was possible, you know more issues than a woman can help with, if you know what I mean... unless.... oh wait this is Ewic we're talking about, he's nothing like that...) ) Where was I? Does anyone care, so there's this girl named "Virginia" and well you know I sort of liked "Virginia" you know, in that way, and well "Virginia" and I had a talk about this and well I got a really nice, honest version of the let's be friends routine, only it was sincere. I guess that's okay... you tell me. Well I'm about to sign off. Maybe if I make these shorter, people will read it... or maybe not.
04/25/2000 - okay so it's been two months since I've written anything here. It's not like I haven't been busy writing. I actually began a new poem yesterday. I don't know when it'll be done as I have yet to look at it again since I wrote the two stanzas I have. Again the theme is love, but why not? Let's say I was inspired by Madrigals, which were almost always about love or death. I choose love because it is usually a much nicer subject. Again I am starting what seems to be another overly cliched poem, which is all nice and mushy and that sort of thing. Do I think my poetry is cliched? How about To My True Love, which was one long cliche? I was uncomfortable with both this one and The End of Death, or whatever I called it. Then I read the Death one again, this time I liked it. Maybe I'm biased? Or maybe I have just been overly hard on myself, that is a better possibility I would think, but then can you ever be too hard on yourself? Probably not unless you are winnign awards and other people think you are great. I can sit here as long as I want yelling about how great a writer I am, but yet everyone else looks at my work and thinks it is crap, basically just a line of cliches strung together. I am still growing as a writer amd will continue to grow, at least we can all hope.
02/13/2000 - Genius? Well maybe I'm not a genius by any stretch of the imagination, hence the would-be self proclaimed. I have had several recent revelations into life and stuff, but they're my usual late night rants that go off into areas unknown and by the next morning make entirely no sense. I doubt they would to you either but here everything goes so try and keep up. Chance are I'll be going around and around in circles anyways so eventually you'll be able to hop on. If you can make any sense out of it, let me know because I doubt I will.
Recently a friend of mine told me there was a difference between dreams and delusions, think about this one if you will. In one hand you have your life long dreams, ambitions, other things that that. In the other you have the delusions, take for example my sister and Harry Connick, Jr. She swears she'll marry him as soon as he ditches his wife, the playboy model. Step back and think, my sister or a playboy model. Actually if I were to say the Playboy model it would be a purely physical thing, until I got to know her, then again I know my sister and well, she's my sister, therefore I don't count, but do you get the point? So what are my dreams? For the longest time it was to get this one girl back, we dated for over a year and then it was over and I was crushed. For the longest time, as long as this past fall I had been thinking about it, just wondering, what if, what if. When we broke up was just the time Titanic came out, along with that song which I still cry at whenever I hear, because it reminds me of what I lost. But also in that song is a message, my heart must go on. Indeed the heart must go on but I didn't want to give up the love that I had for her. Guess what I still haven't given that up, but the heart must go on and since I have loved others. As the song says, Love hurts, love scars (different song mind you). Sometimes it has caused me pain, and it's a very different pain, not like when you break your leg, no this is your heart breaking and you feel it hurting you more than you've ever hurt before. Recently I have fallen in love again, and while I know it may end in pain, I want to take that chance because the benefits what could come out of it far outweighs the danger of having my heart broken again, why? Well if you ask yourself why then I would wonder if you've ever truly been in love. Love is one of the greatest things in the world, men 9and women) will do crazy things for love, and I serve a God of Love, a Love so great that He gave His life on a cross, so that we may not perish but have eternal life. It was something I was reminded of this past week, by one of my professors. My pride had been hurting because another player came into Wind Ensemble and read through everything better than I was after working on it for several weeks. But i'll say it again: my PRIDE was hurting and Doc reminded me exactly why I was there. Told me he needed me, that he needed believers there, and I knew. I swallowed my pride and walked out of there feeling better than I had since our last conversation. But here's the moral, it was the pride. The next night was our concert and I didn't get every note right, but guess what, neither did he and that made me feel 100% better.