Where I go I just don't know, I might end up somewhere in Mexico

I can't say things are going bad, and I can't say I'm mad but I can't help but be a leetle beet sad.

Ah maybe that's overstating things, and maybe it's just a matter of my usual nightly depression slump. But still my mind turns to that old Red Hot Chilli peppers song referenced in the title. I suppose it's a matter of the timing of a bunch of stressful things starting to come together after a period of relative relaxation. This is something that can't really be avoided since a period of time either has a largish number of stressful items or a smallish number of stressful items and it's hard to maintain things so that it's constantly one or the other.

But I can't help but feel a little scared. Because right now my life could become so much better, if I just play my cards right. But I suppose... well if I'm honest with myself, my life's not that bad right now, especially if I take my meds and put some hard work on keeping my mind intact. And so any bonus to my life would just add to the good, so no matter how little I actually get of the opportunities to make my life better, it'll still probably be fine.

Yeah, I think I'm going to be fine.

Afterall, I've got God on my side.

Anyways, for a bonus for my faithful readers (especially since I didn't post yesterday and am posting rather late today) (although how many of you are actually faithful to me, really?) I'm giving you some bits from a bio I did for work.

1. I'm currently enrolled at Rutgers University, although I will graduate in May 2008 and I am not planning on grad school. I am a History major with a Math and Computer Science minor.

2. Teaching SAT review (least for the Princeton Review (this is a webpost-only comment not actually part of the bio I sent them)) is a well-paying job with a flexible schedule which has allowed me to interact with fun people, both co-workers and students, in an easy-going environment. But also important to me is the fact that I can get a sense of satisfaction from helping my students improve their SAT scores. It's nice to feel like you might have helped a kid get into a better school or maybe even helped a student get a scholarship.

3. I dream of being able to write for a new Star Trek series, and I believe Jean-Luc Picard is the best captain of the Enterprise.

4. While I was born in Minnesota, my parents come from Kerala, a state on the southern tip of India. It is a gorgeous area with a climate actually similar to a rain forest and if you know where to go you can find elephants, monkeys, snakes, and even an occasional mongoose. I try to visit my parents' areas every couple years to stay in touch with relatives especially my grandmother.

5. I like to write in my spare time, mostly short stories and a blog. I try to read a good deal and I enjoy watching tv and movies. I also enjoy biking and playing poker. I am also an avid fan of sleeping.

And here's a photo of yours truly: (ain't I gorgeous?)

One hand might wash the other but who washes the arms?

The hands of course. When I thought of that phrase, it had such a faux profound sense to it, but now that I realize it has such a simple answer. Well, I suppose that just emphasizes the faux in the faux profound.

Greetings y'all, and welcome to another session of the Rand Show. Should I open things like that always? I've always been of mixed feelings about a standardized opener. On the one hand, it's cool, it builds the brand, and it gives a feeling of greater consistency. On the other hand, often my thoughts flow directly from the title, or just directly from my head and I don't want to interrupt things for an opener. Oh, choices, choices. Of course I could try the opener and on and off for a while.

Ah experimentation, something, something, something or other.

I got to say I've been a bit lazy with my phrases lazy. But perhaps that's just because I've been feeling a bit unwell.

"I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell, I know right now you can't tell"

(On a stylistic note, I wonder if any of you have noticed my increased use of links. Part of this is simply the fact that more links helps search engines find webpages, but also I think this helps break up the visual monotony of the reading lots of words on the computer and the conceptual monotony of just having words in front of you)

In a recent session I thought I had located the prime source of my feeling unwell (perhaps that's the wrong word for it, I'm at least feeling a little bit off). My analysis was it was because of fear of bad things happening and anxiety over me doing not enough good. I'm not saying that's wrong, but it's not I think the full case. There's still something off inside me and I'm not sure what.

But perhaps that's just something I need to live with. I've often stated that people can never fully understand my mind, and maybe it's time for me to start relaxing a little about that fact. Perhaps it's okay to live in a world where I can't know every little bit of my thoughts. Perhaps, blah, blah, blah.

I think I've hit up that subject well enough.

Moving on to other matters, I'm planning to post up some sessions with linked up versions of Russian films. Why? Because I'm doing some research into old quality Russian films and I think it's pretty cool that they're available on the web and so I'll be posting them up.

In other news, I've got a lot of work to do and so I should be moving on to doing it.

That's about it for now. So take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

Awesomeness always returns

And so I am back. After several days of weak and sporadic sessions I have returned to give meaning to your bummy lives. All hail the returning Rand!!! And so on.

Well, it has been a nice Thanksgiving break, but now life must resume, or else, well, things aren't good then. But anyways,

Zoonga, zoonga, zoonga.

Bet you weren't expecting that! (Or if you had been paying attention to my previous sessions and had noticed my tendency to break up ponderous, incomplete, overly serious thought with odd-sounding nonsense, you might have been expecting that, and that is why the bet I mad was a gentleman's one, I know you people are probably not gentlemen but I am willing to be merciful.)

Anywho, it's strange (as I've remarked several times over and over again to various people until their heads want to explode), after that break I'm starting to feel the pressures of school and personal work, as well as future prospects and plans begin to impose themselves on me. In my pre-Thanksgiving session I commented on how vacation from school does not equal vacation from my personal work, yet honestly I pretty much did take a vacation from personal work (and I extended my vacation from school work to the extend of semi-falling behind). And so now I'm honestly finding it a bit tricky falling back into the tap of things, like getting back into the posting schedule and such (for a little while I was in a nice posting schedule where I was posting every day at a morningish time (I think (although don't quote me on this) that my views increase when I post early)), but more badishly I find some old feelings rising up (I see a bad moon rising).

I mentioned a while ago that I was done with my most recent crisis but that after a number of highly wah-wah sessions I didn't want to cap it off with even more extra super more wah-wah. But since y'all have had the intervening days of the Thanksgiving break + a little more let me chat a little 'bout it all. And by chat I mean say this:

I think a lot of my problems come from my impending, overwhelming desire to change/save/rule the world and my constant belief I'm not doing enough by that. It's aggravating, every day bad things happen. Whether you believe the world's getting better or worse (I tend to believe neither exactly, try to figure out how history's going is the easy path to madness), bad things will keep on happening, and that includes really bad things and things that are really bad personally. And every time that happens, I feel like I've failed. And then there's every moment I'm still, every moment I haven't accomplished something absolutely fantastic I feel like I've failed because I haven't made things better. That just seems insane, it just seems like an absolute and terrible monstrous mistake. It just seems like I'm fiddling while Rome burns. It just seems like I'm a part of the horror, since I'm not stopping it.

It's so easy to feel that way.

It makes me feel like even a moment spent inactive is my mark of failure. Moreover it places pressure on me to save the world with the next moment.

And yet, to feel that way, even Rand the Grand and Glorious can't do it all, and he can't always be trying even, especially since he too is a part of this messed up world.

One more thing if you think about it. If human beings deserve happiness, than don't those who want to help people have a right for happiness too.

But scrap all that, no screw all that. To tell you the truth, no matter how much I do it's still not going to be enough to stop bad stuff from happening, moreover the further into the future the effects of my accomplishments go the less control I'll have over them. So scrap that too.

How to deal with it all then? I appreciate the beauty of life, the universe, and people, wonderful old people. Life is beautiful, and if things go wrong, it might become less pretty, but even less pretty it is infinitely beautiful. So while life might not be as good as you want, it still is so damn beautiful.

And in the end, God will take care.

And yes, there will be horror.

But God will make the best of this world.

And it will still be so damn, incredibly beautiful.

So that's about that.

And those pressures seem a little bit lighter.

So take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

People, something vague and grandiose

It is a mark of my ambivalence about the subject that I cannot even summon up a specific vague and grandiose statement about it. But I love people. They're good folk. Especially friends and such. But they do fill me up with immense and often agonizing amounts of anxiety. Friends and such less so. Usually I don't find friends as discomfort producing. Ah, but here's the rub, I like being around my friends, but the act of contacting them, creating a contact as opposed to simply being exposed to one, there's a big anxiety creator. But hey, no pain, no gain. And I must gain the glory, for I am Rand the Great and Glorious!!!

I've got another confession to make, I'm your fool

After two days I've still got Foo Fighter's the Best of You stuck in my head. But that's a damn nice line "I've got another confession to make, I'm your fool." I guess I am your guys fool. I've been looking at a lot of other webposts and a whole lot of them had their authors give up after a while (which kind of hurts my efforts to accumulate the best of the web's webposts, since I'd rather not include ones not regularly updated unless they are especially good.) so the fact that I've kept up almost daily sessions for nearly a year (when I hit the year mark I'll probably be in India, so I'm not sure how much of a celebration I'm going to be able to do for it) means either I've got a minor accomplishment or I'm your fool.

I wonder how large an accomplishment this is. I've definitely had at the best mixed success in attracting readers (because most readers are bums, and while you guys are, as I've said often, bums, you are apparently less bummy than the rest of the web, so my hat's off to you guys (if I've had a hat)), in terms of quality I think I've done well. Overall my average quality is good, although I've had some crappy sessions I'll admit, and I've had a couple really great sessions (sometime soon, once I'm done copying over all my old sessions from MySpace I'm planning to create a list of best sessions). But perhaps most importantly my consistency has been pretty good, not excellent maybe, I've missed sessions every now and then and sometimes for as much as a week, but I've kept at it, and that's more than can be said for a lot of my other projects, and maybe, that's something I can be proud of, maybe.

I often wonder what good I've done in this world. I try hard to remind myself of a rule I made that I'm not going to judge myself by my accomplishments but by my effort to do good, but if the impact of my 21 years... if the overall sum of it is a little good or maybe even a decent amount of bad... It's hard sometimes when I think that way. But lately it's been hard for me not to think that way. My brother complimented me on my ability to deal with my mental illness to make it through these years. I've always wondered how well though I've made of things, maybe I have kept my grades up, but that is as much do to the mercy of my professors as it is to my effort, but perhaps that's okay. Maybe we all need a little help now and then.

But I'm not sure my survival, or even my personal success at school is enough for me. I'm reminded of Neon Genesis Evangelion. Anyone who's seen that show is now asking, dude, does he actually understand it? Well, no not all of it, but parts of it. I understand to some degree the feelings of the main character, Shinji who struggles to find the desire to fight, to live, or to exist as an individual being. His low sense of worth negates the idea that he has an inherent right to exist, but I like to think he finds something in the beauty of the emotion of love that carries him through and gives him the worth he needs (this is the interpretation including the movie End of Evangelion). Is that enough for me? But have I valued and cherished love as I should, or have I just dwelled in fear? If I care about love so much why haven't I had a bigger positive impact on the world?

These questions whirl around in my head endlessly. And I worry that I've had a negative impact on someone I love (adding to previous fears of this), so I wonder is my slight positive impact overwhelmed by this? And if it is, then for the sake of my love of others, is it better for me to leave... But this ignores many factors and ideas. First of all, I think I underrate my positive impact on the world. My writings might not be widely read yet, and heck, they might not even be that good (although I still think they really are, after all, how can Rand the mighty and glorious write badly?), but I've tried to be a good friend to my friends, and I think I've done pretty well on that front for the most part. For most of my friends I think I've left a positive mark. I think for most of my family too I've left a good mark. Second, I think I ignore my positive potential, if my writings are good, if they get out there they should do some good, I have the potential to do good for my friends and family and strangers really. Thirdly, I have to consider the impact of my leaving this world, but even if that's a reason to stay that's not a reason to really live this life.

Perhaps, if I want to talk about the good impact of my life actually being happy and well, perhaps I ought to think of God. God loves me, and therefore it makes sense that He would be happy to see me well. And I like to think, even if I haven't made much of an impact, I really do believe in love, and whatever my personal failings that counts for something.

It doesn't stop the questions, just because you have answers. But maybe it allows you to overcome the questions, and still live, and more than that, when you have the answers, it allows you to strive for further answers.

I suppose in the end, I have no choice to keep on pressing on, well, no I have choices, but those choices are simply wrong, and so if I'm honest with myself, I realize I want to press on, and with God's help I'll keep doing that.

Even if the tides of the past keep pulling me backwards, maybe still I can break the current and sail beyond the seas.

Maybe.

Anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

Maybe it has the best of me

After every music session I do, I get a song stuck in my head. From my last music session I got Best of You stuck in my head. And I feel like maybe someone or something has the best of me, but I suppose I just need to rip away and say "I'll never give in...No, I refuse." I'm half inclined to do a semi-exposition of this song or even a full exposition, but for various reasons that would be a bad idea. Time's one, I do have a paper to write, but also the things I'm thinking about when I'm hearing that song right now aren't stuff I can share, at least not with everyone.

I realize it's a bit of a cheat to hint so heavily at some story I'm not going to share, but if it is a cheat, so be it, I can live with that, but I can't live with telling this story on the web, at least not today. There are some stories I tell and some I don't. Stories about me I tell for the most part, although I'm considering being a bit more guarded about these because people I know might (big might) read this and take things in a bad light (actually I already consider that and hide certain things, but I'm considering expanding that rule); stories about news, culture, science even, the world in general, those I tell; stories about things that never happen or only might happen, those I tell; but stories about other people, well, if it's positive I might share it, but I'm not going to share other people's secrets on the web, it's just not right.

If it seems even more obnoxious to explain myself in a way that hints even more at the story I'm not telling, well, that's really too bad for you. Sometimes you have to live with not knowing. It's just that something bad happened, and it's taken a lot out of me, but I'm pressing on, even if I can't really change the bad stuff that's happening, but at least I can live my life and hopefully help prevent other bad stuff.

But it hurts you know, watching bad stuff happening and being helpless. It does hurt, and sometimes it takes the best of you.

But when that happens you just need to scream "I'll never give in, NO I REFUSE!"

Because if you do give in...

And even with the bad stuff in the world, there's still so much good, it's still not a bad world, it's just not as good as you'd like it to be... and so you learn to live with the bad stuff that's happening, and you learn to press on, and you take back the best of you.

Or at least you try damn hard.

That's really all I have to say about that.

So take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

Today is the first day of the rest of your life

Hello folks and stuff (it would be cool if some stuff were reading this webpost, but alas, my audience is mostly made up of folks).

Yesterday I was planning a big statement on the desperate situation I was in and how I was just barely pulling things off by the skin of my ass, but it was All Saint's Day and so I decided to write about that.

As to my situation, I've been having trouble getting my work done, I don't know why, but it's like this. I had on my computer for two-three days all the necessary components to make a project over a week overdue work and I resisted putting it all together. Instead I fiddled with things, tried to make things cleaner, and then I tried to make things more complex. By the end I had about 2 and 1/2 versions of the program that should have worked. Eventually I settled down my brain enough to take the simplest version, sand off the rough edges and send it off.

But why?

I can't say I'm sure. But there has to be a why.

Every action needs a reason and every inaction needs a reason, it's impossible to really and truly be still. That's the problem with nihilism, the enthusiasm for the purposelessness of life is never strong enough to stop the instinct to act or to purposefully be inactive. To commit suicide would take a heck of a reason (usually self-hatred), but to live requires acting, or at the very least responding to the actions that surround us. And whatever our response is that has a reason.

But why did I just screw myself over by leaving my project undone for a week? I don't know, maybe it was biology, maybe nurture, the point is it was something that I had to away from.

Curiosity drives me to investigate my mental state, but also a desire to prevent problems from happening again. But still, worrying too much about my mental problems breed more problems which distracts me from bigger concerns...

What are the bigger concerns? Life, Truth, Love, etc. If I went by my feelings, and especially my feelings last week I would say nothing, nothing mattered, and eventually as the pains in my depression grew I would simply conclude that avoidance of pain mattered only and then flip, I'll be dead. But instead I take what feels to be the core and most beautiful principle of my beliefs, and then use reason and experience to go from there. And that's how I got to here, a follower of God Most High.

But that has nothing to do with the title of this session. I've been rambling, but not unpleasantly, and yet I still feel compelled to stop. So's your face! It always works.

Anyways, so take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

Who can be the brick but I?

This song somehow feels like it resonates for me. I feel like I'm sinking slowly. But there's no brick tied to me, there's no reason I should feel this way. I think about what I need to do to get through the day, none of it seems difficult except in actually getting myself to try and I'm not sure why. I can quote the lines from the song (Brick by Ben Folds Five) but it has no reference to me, no real reference. Except I'm feeling alone, but there's no brick unless it's me.

So with doom and all

So it's been a couple days since I've done a session. In real terms, it's not terribly important that I haven't been doing so. I find it a bit distressing though, and so it is therefore a terrible tragedy because I am Rand the Mighty and Glorious, etc., etc., etc.

My brain's been a bit off lately. That being an understatement but I'm going to let it slide. As my buddy Howard pointed out that I use this as a diary somewhat. Well to that:
Yes
No
Maybe
So
Does anyone ever say that anymore? I try to avoid just bitchin' and whinin' and other things that involve excessive chopping of g's, but I do talk about feelings and crap. Hopefully the idea is to talk about the matters in a way that explores ideas and shows insight etc. Because when dealing with feelings you think thoughts and when thinking thoughts you occasionally hit on an interesting one, so I thought throw it up here and so there you go.

Blah, blah, blah.

Anywho, I like to write sometimes about how screwed up my brain to a large degree out of curiousity. It's strange but I find myself fascinated by the oddities of my disease even as it tries to destroy me. It's like admiring the teeth of a tiger as it prepares to bite your head off. Etc.

My mind is very off today. So hopefully I'll revisit this matter later tonight, but for now I'm wrapping things up. If this is unsatisfying to you, well, that's life, or you could check out the healthy sized archives I'm developing, with all my other sessions etc.

Anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

It's not so bad, my glasses are just tinted

I've been putting off writing a session for a while, for a variety of reasons. First mega, super, busy-ness. Secondly, on Saturday I did a session which took a lot out of me in terms of energy and emotion. Thirdly, writing a session given the first two reasons, would be confirming that this webpost meant something to me, and I'm a bit uncertain of what it does mean to me. But it does make me feel good and satisfied with my life, and right now I feel like not to many things do that. See the title line when considering what I've said here, I'm a little depressed right now and that's tinting what I'm thinking. But still this webpost does mean something to me.

I'm still uncertain how many people read this webpost, given my view counts the answer is: More than before, but still less than I'd like. Oh well. This project keeps me working and it keeps me working for myself, and honestly it keeps me creative. I think overall I've been pretty creative with my stuff here, although I'm trying to build up a little bigger audience before I go to my REALLY creative stuff. But in terms of productiveness and such I often end up writing up to 5 pages a week, which isn't bad for a consistent project.

I'm trying to sort out my life a bit because things aren't going great for me. I'm behind on virtually all my school work, but while that isn't something out of the ordinary, what is is the fact that I am failing a class right now. It is due to the fact largely that the teacher has an asinine attendance policy (I'm not saying that the teacher is asinine, she seems like a nice lady and all, but her policy is asinine, it's two absences then 1/2 a grade penalty I mean really). To tell the truth even with a more liberal attendance policy, if it were any that had any degree of strictness, I'd be in some trouble, due to the massiveness of my absences. My other academic problems are much more recoverable, especially since I got an extension from one of my teachers on a project. But even with the extension...

I'm tired. I'm tired all the time, I'm tired now and I'm only really able to keep my focus by watching tv (if that doesn't sound sensible, let me be a little clearer, watching good tv energizes me and enlivens my mind. Thus it keeps me awake (whether or not I should be awake is a different matter, but I largely just want to finish this session). I've had energy problems for a long, long time, more or less as long as I can remember. But lately it's been getting progressively worse. Or maybe it's just my perception of the energy problems. Or maybe it's just my laziness. I can't say for sure.

But beyond weariness of the body is always, always weariness of the soul. I am sustained by the love of the Almighty, but perhaps it's a lacking of faith, or perhaps it's just a desire for something better, but I am weary. And when I have a weariness like this, no matter how hard the failure of life hit me and tempt me with death, it's hard to be motivated to succeed. So I've been thinking about what makes me happy (and by happy I mean some real satisfaction happiness, not just a temp. high I can get by say eating a lot of junk food (although a good meal does have an element of beauty to it and that does give a degree of satisfaction like all art)), and how I can use it to put some energy into my life. Writing sessions makes me happy. Writing stories, heck, writing in general makes me happy. Working on the newsteam gives me some satisfaction, although it's tempered by the fact that I think I'm slacking off to a degree in that regard). Reading and watching tv for fun, somewhat, to a degree, but my restlessness makes it difficult for me to do that without anything else, and furthermore, it doesn't really bring out more of a happiness to my life. Friends, yeah, they make me happy (this is when you start singing I get by with a little help from my friends). But organizing get togethers is difficult and heck, overall social interaction is difficult, taxing, and hard for me to commit to (due to anxieties, fears, etc.) + there's a matter of time and busy-ness.

But perhaps what doesn't take too much time, and what does make me happy would making the girl I like smile. For some time now my feelings towards a girl have been growing into what might be called a crush. There's no good word for it, crush sounds to juvenile, and this isn't love. I'm trying to make sure I don't rush into a feeling like love headstrong without regard, and I've been careful to pace my emotions. But I could say I have a crush on her. And making her happy makes me happy. Just talking with her gives me a jolt of energy, although that energy can easily become anxiety if I become a little beet paranoid about the conversation (hence, I need to watch for that (one of the things I've learned about myself is the need to watch out for out of control emotions, because I've been down that path far too many times)). If I could talk to her every day, and if she liked talking to me, well it would be nice. As things are now, I've been pacing myself in my conversations with her, making sure not to annoy her with constant calling, etc. But in the last couple weeks, I've called her maybe 2 or 3 times a week, and those times have brightened up my days.

God does encourage relationships, so I suppose he doesn't mind if we seek happiness in them (although we must always remain first devoted to our Heavenly Lord). There was a prayer in Church last week that reminded me of that. But still, still, I feel like I can't be hasty in pursuing a relationship because I don't want to frighten her away, but I'm tired of being lonely. Then on the third hand, on the third hand (hey look I've got three hands), on the third hand, sometimes I feel like it's my destiny to wander the world alone, and I must accept it.

I dunno, I'm not sure what I need to do, what I want to, I can't say I'm terribly sure of my life right now. But God wants me to live. And I think God wants me to do something great with my life. So I press on.

"It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther … And one fine morning -

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Maybe. Or maybe the story is actually a different matter altogether. I don't know.

By the way, if that girl I do have a crush on is reading this (I almost feel inclined to say her name, but that would be rude to this highest degree and it would also have great consequences that would spiral out of my control (although she probably knows who she is)), yeah all I've said above is true. And there are more convoluted matters in my emotions that are not here but are also true. But put all this aside for a moment, and think of this. Do you think you could feel about me in a romantic way? If so, all I ask is you let me speak to you once in a while, let me see you once in a while, let me make you smile once in a while. It would mean the world to me, if you could do me that favor.

Creep

I'd like to think I'm not really a creep. But I do creepy stuff sometimes. Nothing I care to go into though. But part of writing is revisiting painful incidents far more often than is at all sane. Earlier this semester I had a writing assignment that while beginning humorous ended in a scene of painful lost love. That scene touched my heart a little and reminded me of all my lost loves. And then I had to revisit it. Again the painfully emotional scene hitting me. Then again, revisiting it. More painful emotional scene hitting. And then more revisiting, etc. Not very nice stuff. But that's what I writer's got to be doing. So yeah, creep.

I have a vague recollection of when that song came out, I think it was my early high school years, although apparently it was done in 1992 or 93, so that would have to be a good deal back before my school years, maybe around middle school or even tail end of elementary school. But I guess it was in high school my musicality was at its peak (or at least at its peak for that period, I'm having a new Renaissance of musicality right now) and so that was when I heard that Radiohead song, Creep. It struck a cord.

Apparently, the songwriter was talking about gender-identity issues with the song, least that's what he said. I took the song as sort of an outsider unrequited love song (part of the reason for my differing interpretation is probably because the radio edit changed a line from "You're so fucking special" to "You're so very special" but I get into some of that below). And so it felt very natural to me, who felt perpetually the outsider, and who in his early high school years had some unrequited love. I've talked about one case of this before, in my Here is Gone session, but as I noted there, that was about my second heartbreak, but this song resounds more accurately and more tightly with my first heartbreak, and so it is in the light of that I'm going to do some explicating (explication nation, what's your temptation).

Creep by Radiohead from the album Pablo Honey

When you were here before

She didn't just appear, she had been my friend for a long time, since elementary school. We used to walk home together, maybe around 3rd or 2nd grade. During 4th grade and 5th to some degree there was a separation of boys and girls and so to a degree we lost touch. But we still went to the same schools and greeted each other with friendship. In eighth grade I actually thought she would be the ideal person to have a crush on, and to a degree I suppose I harvested those emotions. But by the end of summer I had largely forgot of the matter. Until of course, school resumed and I saw her again. But those feelings had a different flavor to them, an intensity that I wasn't used to, which I embraced as love.

Couldn't look you in the eye

But while I embraced the feelings, I couldn't stand staying in her presence. I hated myself, I hated myself viciously, and being near her seemed just another opportunity for me to fail at my efforts of contact. Worse yet, it was an opportunity for her to see the person I thought I was, an utter monster. A creep if you will. (and I will, for I am RAND.)

You're just like an angel

I idealized her utterly and completely. It was from a distance of course so I couldn't assign to her definite idealized characteristics, so instead I assigned to her all idealized traits. I imagined her like an angel. A creature of utter purity. The only real traits I can assign to her is that she's kind and strongly social competent (she has a social comfortableness that is enviable, at least by one such as me), but it's hard for me to really fix her character beyond that because of all my idealization. So I thought of her like an angel. It's such a hollow description really, especially without any theology behind it, but I never had enough courage to make my emotions anything more than hollow.

Your skin makes me cry

Always with skin. It tends to be regarded as so important. As for the obvious matter. Yes, she was white, and yes I'm brown, but that really had no importance for anything, although I was paranoid about it. But in a more teenage sense skin mattered otherwise. I always hated my skin's oils and pimples. I can't say I'm too fond of them now, but I can tolerate my skin since I don't have much acne anymore. But back then, it was quite a bit. It added to my whole, I hate myself, and especially my body thing, and so it didn't help that she was beautiful. I can't even remember if truthfully she had no acne, but she certainly had less than me, what is true is her skin seemed perfect to me. She seemed beautiful and I felt unforgivably ugly.

You float like a feather
In a beautiful world

She hung out with a more popular crowd, I on the other hand. I didn't really have a crowd. I suppose this is the point I should say I was fat (or thought myself as such), given the feather analogy, etc. But everything about her, the people she hung out with, the way she looked, the way she carried itself. It seemed so immensely better than everything that was me.

And I wish I was special

Back then I felt anonymous, insignificant, and pointless. I can't say I don't have those emotions now sometimes.

Youre so (very) fuckin special

She seemed on the other hand to be at the center of her own little world, and it was a damn nice world. The original version of this song I listened to (that is not to say the original version of the song itself, but the radio edit), used very instead of fuckin'. It does take the edge off this verse. I can't say I was angry at her for these emotions, but I was angry at myself for not acting on them, and I was angry at the universe for making me me.



But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.

I've never been quite normal in any social circle, and that sense of isolation, so heightened during high school and complemented with anxiety and self-hate. I felt I was a creep. I can't say I really was one. Probably the actually creepiest thing I did was, well, I didn't follow her, but I would remember where I saw her at certain times of the day. We all have our little habits after all. And I'd just try to be near her at that time of the day. I wouldn't want her to see me, because then she might think I was stalking her, or worse yet might engage me in conversation, but rather I just wanted to get a glimpse of her. My emotions would fill me then, and I'd get an invigorated euphoria that would fade the moment she left my sight and I remembered how lonely I felt.

What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

Yeah, I can say I didn't belong. I didn't have a clique or anything in that sense. But really when it comes down to belonging on this earth, what is the criteria. If you're a human being, that gives you a certain necessity of spending some time on earth doesn't it. If you're born, doesn't that give you the right to belong to the living? And if you have a soul doesn't that give you a right to belong to God's children.



I don't care if it hurts

This line always reminds me of pimple popping, especially in combination with the perfect skin line. It was a nasty habit of mine, especially since I knew excessive pimple popping actually aggravated the acne. But I wanted so badly to feel pain. It fed the hatred so completely and satisfied it as well. A nice little vicious cycle. (just like a demon bike)

I want to have control

I've always had problems of control. Controlling my eating, my laziness, most of all my mental illness. Life always seemed to come so easily for everyone else, for her. However, that is one of those nice little lies we tell ourselves to makes us feel nicely persecuted. Everyone has problems, it's best not to try to rank them.

I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul

As much as I hated my body when depressed, I hated my soul even more. Because when I was in the depths of depression I believed I was an absolute monster barely contained. It was a good way to justify my self-hatred even though I believed people should be judged on their internal goodness and not their external appearances.

I want you to notice
When I'm not around

That was always something for me. I wanted to feel like I made a difference in the world and that without me people would be worse off. I suppose it is true, but on the other hand. On the other hand during my periodic absences from social life during breakdowns, nobody seemed really to care. But on the plus side, they did seem to enjoy my company. Still, it would be nice, if people noticed when I wasn't around, especially her. (Of course, you people, my loyal readers would notice when I'm not around, eh? Ah, bums! Meh, in the end it doesn't matter if people care when you're not around, God notices when you withdraw into yourself, when you breakdown, and He offers to carry you through the pain, as I have found out time and time again)

You're so (very) fuckin' special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

She's running out again,
She's running out
She's run run run running out...

Let me tell you the story of how I confessed to her. My buddy Howard says it shows me as brave. I'd disagree. Anyways, in my high school and even middle school we had various services which would deliver cards and presents to those whom you had crushes on or just wanted to give a present to. I actually did give her cards for years since eighth grade up to sophmore year. However I always kept it as from a secret admirer. Until that final card. Sophmore year I decided to sign it as myself. And so she found out about my feelings. And then... I passionately avoided her for the rest of the year and the summer. Yeah, I really don't think the story depicts me as brave. But then junior year came around. The beginning of every year I always tend to be somewhat manic. So I had a great idea, why not invite everyone in the school to a party? It didn't work out so well, well, no it was fun, even if only 4 people came. But I had invited her, and then, then I was rejected.

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want

To make a girl I like happy, that's just awesome. To see her smile. I've always had trouble reading facial expressions, but I know a smile is a smile. And so I give gifts, I tell jokes, I do anything to make them smile. But unfortunately I rarely listen to them, I usually am so self-absorbed, and so obsessed with the emotion of love, I forget to some degree about the actual girl. Perhaps really then, it wasn't love with this girl, just being in love with the feeling of love. With later girls I liked I've tried to listen more, and I consider my feelings more legitimate, but perhaps it's just the pains in that period leave me as somewhat cynical about that period in my life

Youre so fuckin special
I wish I was special...

But Im a creep, Im a weirdo,
What the hell am I doing here?
I dont belong here.
I dont belong here.


And then after confessing to her and being rejected, after the party that didn't work out as I had planned, and after failing to really resolve a conflict between two people I cared about, my depression grew to a point where it became to much. I've always wanted control, especially for those moments like this when depression is this overwhelming. But I didn't have self-control. And so, well, let me not relate the exact details, but I resolved to kill myself. But in the end, I didn't even have the self-control for that. I was too afraid of pain, and so I resolved that I would try to overdose on my medicine. But then my father came home and stopped me. And then I was hospitalized.

That experience casts a taint over this period, and over my relations with that girl. When she rejected me she said it was because she didn't want to ruin our friendship. She also made several other efforts to reach out to me as a friend. I sort of ignored them. It was hard to think of her without thinking of that period in my life when I became obsessed with my emotions of love for her, and ultimately ended up hospitalized. It's a shame though. Friendships are something highly valuable, and not to be discarded. So maybe someday, when I become a little bit more mature I renew my friendship with that girl. Is that day today? Maybe, one never knows what the future might bring.

So anyways, that's the story of my first heartbreak. There's some lessons in there if you want to take them, I don't feel like spelling them out explicitly. I always wonder what could have been though, but that's usually a useless conjecture, not worthy of Rand the mighty and glorious.

So anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

A matter of clouds

I, I the man of the Rand and the Rand of the man, persevere in spite of attempts by giant fish to stop me. But no giant fish will defeat me, for I am John!!!

But let that matter be discarded. I remember in about 4th or 5th grade I still liked school. Perhaps I didn't admit it because of peer pressure, but overall I enjoyed being at school. It was only with middle school school really started to bug me. Perhaps that was because with the dawning of my hormones my anxiety problems got kicked into to overdrive.

After that, minor social anxiety blossomed into full on social paranoia (I use paranoia here in a very loose, ultra-loose, barely hanging on to the threads of syntax loose sense (basically any rapid-fire depressing, self-hating, fearful thoughts)). Basically my mind exploded. And any sense of social satisfaction I got from school evaporated. And so I had school work. But investing myself in my school work put such intense performance stress on me that it almost killed the alien embryo that I'm raising in my stomach. Or maybe it just gave me anxiety attacks, either one.

So I had to choose whether or not I wanted to attach my worth to my grades. And all my upbringing, my experiences, my culture, etc. suggested to me in the end that while grades were good and an accomplishment, they were not a measure of worth. But let me caution, I presented here a relatively linear process of an intellectual trend, but the mind doesn't work that way, it don't, my friend, it simply don't. Another factor to my disconnecting my sense of worth from my school work was my disconnect from the idea of school being its own universe with teachers having a natural, if not always welcome spot at it head, to it simply being a tiny piece of the universe with teachers being just people without an inherent superiority to me. Suddenly doing well by their measures seemed submitting to an unnecessary (and by my then reasoning automatically unjust) authority. Teenage rebellion, et. al. I suppose. And then there was my religious journey which led me to conclude that earthly authorities must always be subject to heavenly authorities. Etc. So there were a lot of factors.

Then if school (and let me include college here (although college does differ from primary and secondary schooling in some theoretical points which I won't get into here)) wasn't a measure of worth, then what was it supposed to be. More or less a stepping stone, a tool. Intellectually that's how I view it. But emotionally, it's hard to see it as less than confinement. Perhaps that's just a manifestation of my wanderlust soul. Or in more charitable terms an imposition. It's hard to stand that, and perhaps that's a reason why I have such trouble sticking to my classes. But in the way I think about things I actually have less care for school than work. At least when I'm working I get a feeling that I'm building some organization or something, but with school it feels like all my effort is going to nothing except satisfying the expectations of others. Perhaps I can say that when I'm in lecture there's the satisfaction of learning but with tests, projects, and essays, etc. (although occasionally I do feel satisfaction from projects and essays since they involve some creativity, it usually is as much or more giving a feeling of burden). In the end, I just can't take a great deal of satisfaction from school, at least as long as I keep on looking on it as a burden.

Perhaps a better way of looking at matters would be to see school as a game. And the whole matter becomes a competition when it comes to grades. Now many people dislike that analogy because it puts too much stress on kids and undermines their feelings of friendship. But that's only if you look at it as an immensely important game. But let's take this as a pretty important game, not hugely important, you can rebound from bad grades, but it's still got some gravity to it. And there is some fun to it with the learning and all. And then there is some accomplishment to getting a good grade. But it isn't the accomplishment of say a medal of honor, or something that suggests quality in a person (even if a person's true quality is a matter hidden in the brain, personal, and in my mind moreover a matter of how they view the world instead of what they accomplish, etc., etc., etc., blah, blah, blah). Rather a good grade in school is like a victory in football, or soccer, or Magic: The Gathering.

And when it comes down to it, it isn't really a victory over your competitors, they rather are your fellow-travelers in the game, a victory in a game is a victory over its rules, its obstacles and your own limits. Perhaps, if I looked at school like that, it might become palatable again. Stranger things have happened.

Anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

I can't stand change or chest waxing

Well, but while I do want change despite its anxiety inducing components, I am not interested in chest waxing. I like my chest hair, it keeps me warm. But then again, if the right lady asked really nicely... But until then I think I'm going to keep my chest hair.

But with change, well, once again, I find I've got to change some problems in my life. Like of course, the fact I had another minor breakdown. Let me emphasize the fact that this matter was minor, it was simply one day. However, it did lead to me missing a day of classes, including several critical classes. So there will be an aftermath. But things can change, and will change for I AM RAND!

But it will not be easy. After all, I have a lot of crazy chemical stuff fiddling around in my head. Plus, etc., etc., etc.

Enough about that

Lets Dance!

Doo doo doo dee doo dee doo bop
Doo dee dee doo dee doo bop
Bop Bop Bop dee doo dee doo doo bop

(Not really dancing, actually sitting down, but dancing in spirit, dancing in spirit).

So anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

Come on, Let's Dance! Come on, Let's Dance! Baby!

I'd rather not start on a bad note because even if I am feeling rather crappy today, and let me be clear that I am feeling rather crappy today, it's better not to wallow in it, but rather to defy it, which makes me wonder why I decided to make clear that I was feeling crappy today, oh t'well.

Anyhow, on that note, let me relate this, I was originally going to title this session is Fucking A' (note that I'm using Fucking as an adjective, not as a verb, or as a gerund (as in an A' that is doing some fuking), and while A' here does refer to ass, it is ass in a figurative sense, and not to an a person in particular but to a general situation). This refers to my general frustration with life at the moment. But then, something must be considered. Is my frustration something that simply can be ignored or does it have a cause that must be dealt with.

Classically in TV and literature for that matter, if someone felt often a frustration and uneasiness with life they'd conclude that something was missing in their life. But I can't say that's the case for me, at least necessarily. Dissatisfaction is a natural part of depression and it craves ultimately self-destruction. And that's something I can't give it. And if these impulses exist within me, and I refuse them, well, then there will always be that restlessness within me. And I will have to live with it. And sometimes, when events or circumstances trigger it, or perhaps simply when my cycle of highs and lows hits a low, the feelings will intensify. Medication might help these problems, therapy might help, but barring a miracle (always a possibility), I find it unlikely that these feelings will go away. Thus if I conclude something is missing every time I feel dissatisfied, I will be endlessly searching for that something, and while I am searching, all my life will pass me by, and it will be a pass by full of dissatisfaction from unfulfilled searching for that matter.

I suppose this isn't necessarily something confined to the depressed or mentally ill. Dennis Leary once said something along the lines that happiness isn't a default state, it's just small moments. And I have heard similar sentiments expressed in songs. And yet, I have met people who seem naturally happy. I suppose it's just a degree of natural dissatisfaction, whether its a matter of biology (perhaps a stand-alone issue or related to other matters as in my case) or a matter of experience, is within the normal variation of people even without disorders. As is natural happiness. Some of us have an easier load, and some have a harder one, I try not to rank mine too precisely, but I'd say it's harder than most, at least most in this country, but easier than many.

On the other hand, even if it is painful and frustrating, a natural dissatisfaction does have its advantages. It prevents becoming complacent and lazy, it forces people forward, even if it sometimes leaves them forever running forward without a reason without a stop. I don't mind moving forward, but I'd like a reason, and I'd like a stop sometimes. So things must be managed.

Of course, it could be the dissatisfaction is perfectly legitimate and has roots in a real emotional issue that I have been avoiding. It's hard to tell. With false signals running through the head, it's hard to grip on the true warnings. But I am awesome and I am Rand so it's all good in the 'hood.

So anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

All things end in madness

It at least always seems that way with me. Meh, that's enough of all that, well not really, but let me punctuate the mood by saying
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mooohga, booga, BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And that's about that

Anywho, you'd be surprised how easily things can end in madness. Take an example of an average conversation, I talk to someone, maybe mention the weather, maybe ask how they're doing, etc. Instantly I starting picking apart every possible action and inaction, every word and pause, every bit of being of the other person to try to find something to show that this person hates me. Then I turn on myself, and start tearing through my own actions to try to find something I did that was rude, idiotic, or annoying to the other person, or something I should have done to be nice. Matters only get worse when I speak to girls, especially girls I like. There matters get dicy. Dicy with a capital DICY. So it then goes to madness.

What to make of it then? Because if this session ends up as just a complaining session I'm probably going to chuck it. So then there must be anlaysis. SO LET IT BE!!!

Well, as it is, it's just something I need to deal with. In my life, I'm constantly hit by anxieties and obsessions, and in the end, I just have to throw these fears away. My life would pretty sad if I actually listened to those fears. Actually there have been several periods in my life when I've actually listened to my fears, and then I've been locked in my room and curled up in my bed trying desperately not to move. But that's life, and in the end I'm in control of my mind and I can order myself to ignore my fears and such, and blah, blah, blah, blah.

So that's about that.

Seeing as this session had perhaps a leettle beet too much angst. So let me just say...

Take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

Even these things persist

Greetings folks and peoples of people-like nature (that includes you semi-animalistic furry folk as well). I would like to share with you a rule I've recited in various circumstances. Given an infinity of opportunities even things with small probability are likely to happen. Given my history, a breakdown had medium likiness of occurring, so that it would occur sooner or later was almost certain. Perhaps, I dunno. But today I skipped out on my classes, gave up on all activity and wallowed in depression. I did that for about twelve hours and then, I got over it. Ah chemicals, they make up your body, but they tend to just fly here and there without prediction. To some extent I think my emotional collapse this morning and my recovery this evening was chemical. But like all good mental problems there was an element of nurture. I had been building stress on myself since school started and I had to do some homework pretty quickly and I was feel emasculated by the fact that my parents aren't going to let me keep a car at the school for casual purposes (basically I have to run it by them). My recovery on the other hand was guided by my faith. The fact that God loves me is a great strength restorer, and while I might respond that God shouldn't love me because I'm unworthy, I remember that passage from the Acts of the Apostles, verse 9: "Do not call anything impure that God has made clean." I guess that includes me if I trust in Him. And I think this has the larger implication of the idea, I can't say that God is wrong to love me, God is always right, so I guess I am worthy of God, and I guess if I want to do right by God, I got to do right by those He loves and that includes me.

So that's about the summary of events. I'd rather not go into matters any more severely because that would be boring, whiny and therefore lame. But the meat of the matter is that I had a breakdown and recovered decently fast, although not fast enough not to miss classes. It's irritating because I had hoped I was done with breakdowns severe enough to do that. And it's worrying. I have 1 year till I graduate, technically even less than that (I suppose it's actually about 8 months), and if I have these sort of problems while I'm working, I'll actually have a great deal of trouble, as in trouble which will get me fired. And unless I can build a good job record early on, in this tight job market my later ambitions will be a bit tough. So what to do about it?

What to do, what to do, skitter me shoe, what to do?

Just thought I'd puncture the mellowdrama a little and I don't really have a needle that came go through your brain to the part that's imagining the mellowdrama, so etc., etc., la-dee-da-dee-da.

But back to the matter at hand. So what should I do with these breakdowns? Well, I'll see my psychiatrist, I'll see my psychologist, I'm going to start seeing a pastoral counselor, but really will that do anything? If I really need, I'll change my medicine, although overall I've been doing pretty well and I don't want to lose how I've been doing so far. Besides, to really get rid of the feelings that generated this collapse would take something drastic, something fundamental, something I really don't know.

I used to figure that if I just kept moving forward in my life, if I kept myself busy that might be enough. But I'm moving forward, I'm obscenely busy, and still... Business could be part of the problem but last semester I had constant collapses and I had one of my easiest schedules since Freshman year. Maybe if I had more energy, if I wasn't tired all the time and I could take full advantage of those brief moments when I'm truly productive. But I doubt it. These emotions seem to come to me no matter what has been accomplished, no matter how successful life is. There's a part of me that wants everything and isn't satisfied even if I have it. And then there's a part of me that just truly hates myself and will take advantage of every dissatisfaction, every moment of doubt, every failure, every mistake to try to destroy my soul and make me take my life. And that won't go away just because my life moves forward, it'll take something drastic, like I said.

A change of medicines might do some good, maybe, but if I'm looking for a fundamental shift like I said I needed, it'll take a fundamental change in medicine and that'll either help me a lot or screw me over immensely. In fact, it'll likely also take a lot of trial and error so even if there is some one medicine or medicine combo that can help me immensely it'll probably take a lot of bad tries that'll screw me over first, and given the time it takes to see if a medicine works or not, unless my psychiatrist has a good idea of how it will help, it's probably not a good idea to mess with a decent medicine combo, which I have right now.

So then what? Well, there is a fundamental change schedule in 8 months. Graduation, that should give a nice little shock to the system, and maybe, perhaps that'll set in motion some changes. And then there's the classic. Get a girl, girl solves my problems everything's better. That was always my plan in high school, more or less. But I really shouldn't rely on that, and I rely doubt women can just suddenly, magically make things better. But they can at least provide me a relief from loneliness. At least if I can find a woman to fall in love with. When you're in love, just being in conversation, just being near the woman you love gives you strength. Perhaps that might help. Maybe. I'd like to think so. And that is something I can work on, if I give it some effort and some time. Maybe, maybe, a thousand times maybe (Is that a phrase of some sort? Maybe a paraphrase or something of the like? Maybe.). Anywho, I doubt still it'll erase my problems, but it might make things better.

Then there's always the option of living with it and hoping that it isn't too often, that isn't too much. And trying to lessen it and make it less often through gradual efforts and the training of my will. I have fought off several possible collapses recently that delayed this. Perhaps that's just how I need to live. Fighting it, losing sometimes, but maybe winning more and more. And maybe someday, all that fighting will be enough, and my problems will be completely under control. I doubt it but maybe.

I asked one of my psychiatrists one time, will it ever be easy for me to live? Right now the act of living is often difficult, because at the end of the day and at the beginning of the day especially, and sometimes just randomly throughout the day, I feel waves of depression crashing on me. But he said, that if I learn to deal with it every day, than just as with practice, dealing with it will get easier. I like to hope so. But the thing is I have been dealing with it, for a long time now, and it's still pretty damn hard. But sometimes that's just the way things go. And you still need to push onward.

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther … And one fine morning -

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

I suppose I'm chasing that green light to. And so still I push onward.

The Girl of My Dreams

Heh, heh, you get it, this session is about a girl in my dreams but I use the phrase "the girl of my dreams," oh the hilarity. But beyond that, I am bringing back to my mind an incident from a while back because A. it was interesting from a psychological standpoint because it was as close as I have ever come to outright delusional insanity, and B. because I represented it in several different ways. One of them is a session I did a long time ago on my mySpace webpost, but I shifted it over here and you can read it: The Season of the Witch

But due to an assignment for a writing class, I also engaged the matter in a different light.

That's what I'm bringing you today. If this examination of the incident seems light, and makes the incident seem harmless, I invite you to go to the previous post which examined it somewhat more heavily.


For a long time I believed that if a professor took attendance then he or she must believe in the three absence limit rule that was the official Rutgers policy. Experience has since proved me wrong, but as late as last September I believed this was true, however, despite this belief I still had a nasty habit of being late arriving to nearly every class but most especially to my classes on the maze-like Douglass campus. This was largely my own fault since I waited till the exact last moment to leave my room, and so after arriving late for the first few classes of my Douglass-based History of South Asia class I determined that it would be smarter not to wait at the bus stop near my dorm but rather to run to the more frequented bus stop next to the Rutgers Student Center. I think this decision did help me to be on time more often, but whether the more distant bus stop did or did not get me to class quicker, it did give me an extra ten minutes worth of scenery for which I am grateful.

That is not to say the scenery was anything special. It was simply the street in front of my dorm, the parking lot beyond that, the computer lab, Brower Commons, and the Rutgers Student Center. Yet all those places had people and people provide interesting scenery. One particular example from October is especially prominent among my memories. I was passing the computer lab and I saw a strikingly white pigeon. Most pigeons are somewhat white, somewhat gray but this was a bold white. It was also a rather large for its kind. It was also moving towards winter and any bird was rather unusual. But it drew my eyes to the bench in front of the computer lab where I saw a highly pretty girl. It was only a glance but I could see she had a slight frame, vibrant red hair cut moderately, a perfectly oval face with a petite nose, and a lovely subtle smile. I also found it amazing how close the pigeon was to her. I always loved birds and while I would occasionally chase them to see them fly off, often I would attempt just to get close, imagining perhaps I could pet them on their heads. But I was never quite able to get close them, I would try to be quiet but they would always fly away. Yet she was only a couple inches away from the pigeon and it seemed perfectly comfortable, I had to imagine that she had some special charm with animals. I paused for a moment, but then I ran off to catch the bus. I had to get to class and at the time I believed if I was marked absent just one or two more times the professor would start detracting from my grade. Looking back upon it, I regret not stopping and talking to her, but that regret is not why the memory remains with me.

I remember this instance so well because it reminded me of a dream I had a few nights before. The dream was an adventure where I met a witch who had some power over animals as well as other magic abilities. I can't really remember exactly how the witch looked, but for some reason, that girl at that moment seemed to capture perfectly her look. And for a second, I believed that the dream had entered reality, that it was not actually a dream but simply a prediction of things to come. This actually filled me with anxiety and sorrow since the dream itself ended badly but also with excitement. I always wanted to believe in magic, in dreams crossing over to reality, and for a moment I did. And because of that, suddenly my life had a new importance, I had to deal with the strange and powerful magical forces which in my dream had caused so much tragedy. I had a mission, but it lasted only as long as I believed that the dream had become real, and I believed that only for a second. Then the moment ended and I realized she was just a girl, although a pretty one, and I was getting late for class. So I sprinted for the bus and let the dream fade into the back of my mind.

I wonder what it would take for me to sincerely believe that a dream had become real and magic had entered into my life. I have seen things happen that have been predicted by my dreams a couple nights ago, but none of those things have been magical or required stretching the imagination. The dream this girl reminded me of was full of magic, of adventure, of strangeness and to believe in it would require a complete rewriting of how I view the world. On the other hand, even if I don't believe in magic, I have always believed in the possibility of magic. We live in a world where things surprise us daily, and new advances of science stretch the possible, so why not magic? But I suppose if it was that simple, if magic were simply another surprise, then it wouldn't have such allure. I suppose the charm of magic, and why I felt such excitement from the possibility that the dream had become real is the idea of suddenly becoming powerful and important. Magic offers a new route to becoming important, because it is a new source of power, something unseen in the world before. Just knowing about it gives you an edge over the rest of the world. And if my dream became real the significance of the magic would be even greater, the magic would represent the duty I had to correct the wrong which my dream had predicted, it would have given me a sense of higher purpose. But perhaps the attractive thing about magic is that it is just something we don't encounter, something completely new to our experiences. We have possibilities in our lives, but all our possibilities are confined in the systems that form society and bound by the rules of the world we live in. It doesn't mean our lives can't be unpredictable but there are limits on those possibilities. But if magic were possible, suddenly we could realize that those limits are illusionary, that there are no limits to our opportunities. The ordinary world would be shattered and become extraordinary. I think it's possible for magic to suddenly emerge like that, but I would need more proof than a girl who reminded me of a dream, and that's why I didn't stop, instead I ran to catch my bus.

And I never said that it would be okay

So I lied when I said I was going to post more, or well not lied, but did not follow through. So if I had established things as a contract you could sue me. But for the record I did not establish things as a contract and if you try to sue me

(takes off shoe and starts banging it on the table)
I WILL BURY YOU!!!! (anyone get the history reference? If you didn't you're a bum. BUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

So I'm not going to say things are going badly, yes I'm still dealing with depressive feelings and those have probably taken an uptick lately, but I'm still getting things done, my life overall is still chugging along. Still anxiety is building and one must always be vigilant towards insanity, but not so vigilant as to make it a self-fullfilling prophecy.

It's always been an issue that balance of work and relaxation for me. I mean I tend to go through intense periods of trying to take on as many projects as I can then I burn out, get depressed and let all those things fall apart. It sucks I got to say. But if I concentrate too much on taking it easy, I put things off and then they fall all over me. Not too good either. Oh well, just got to tinker with things till I get it right.

That's something my psychologist has been saying to me a lot, that I need to experiment with my life. Usually I'm always trying to figure out mentally what I need to do with my life, but probably the best thing is to just throw myself out there and see what sticks. Sure, there's a little bit of danger, but life is dangerous.

There's a nice quote by CS Lewis, it doesn't exactly apply here, but it's good nevertheless:

"The only place the heart is safe outside of heaven is in hell"

It means basically you protect your heart from all danger too much you condemn yourself to misery or at the very least to emptiness, and that's not what I want for my life.

Anyways, that's just what I'm thinking about that. I got to get out there, I got to keep on chugging, even if my brain keeps throwing road blocks in my way I got to keep on keeping on, until one day the time is ready for me to receive my rest.

So anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

In the body in the mind in the stomach

Now for something a little different.
Buh-awug-awuga.
That's actually not something very different from my regular persona, but I said something a little different not very different. But moving on from that, I find myself wondering how exactly to start my intended topic without sounding monumentally whiny. Perhaps my difficulty in doing so is a warning that I should not attempt it since perhaps the topic is inherently whiny and so perhaps I should go with something else. But the medium of webpost (my replacement word for blog, because blog is such an ugly, ugly word) is by its nature a hit or miss forum, it is designed for the easy expression of thoughts and emotions, not all thoughts and emotions, even those that might appear useful might not actually be useful. But if I am too cautious, I can not maintain a steady flow of posts and the webpost will transform into nothing but a collection of rough, unpolished essays and not very many of them. The frequent schedule of the webpost has been vital in keeping me writing and I'd very much dislike to end that, and so I press on into the unknown or the known whichever.

Anyways, a thought which has occurred to me lately, often, is I don't take good care of my body. I eat badly, don't exercise enough, drink too much caffine, are careless about germs, I don't brush at night (I do do so during the day, mostly), I don't sleep much and I eat at odd times. Now much of this can be explained rationally. I eat badly much of the time because I like good food over healthy food. I am also supremely lazy and extremely casual, and this does not lend itself to the formal habits of taking care of myself well. But I think sometimes it's more than a matter of that. Take my brushing habit for example. Now brushing is a small thing and honestly while I might forget about it every now and then if it was just a matter of laziness I would still brush most of the time. But rather when I even think of brushing my teeth at night I freeze up. I get filled with anxiety. It suddenly occurs to me that if I try to brush now I'll be committing myself to brush in the future. Moreover it seems almost as a commitment to self improvement. And then as I face this anxiety I face the continuing self doubt about my ability to conquer my anxiety. And then there is a feeling within me that hates any idea of self improvement and seeks any chance for me to harm myself (the slow decay of my teeth being one of those opportunities)

When I'm depressed the fullness of this becomes apparent. I stop brushing, I stop bathing, I stop eating except when I force myself (often I trick myself by pretending that I'm eating food just to give in to my base appetite) and even then I eat mostly food that's very bad for me.

I suppose what it comes down to is I need to put caring for my body as one of the things I need to force myself to do when I'm depressed, just like going to school and work. After all, I have many things to do in the world before I die.

But it is an open question as to how much of a degree of taking care of my body I want to engage in. My basic plan now is enough to stay healthy (I'm not really doing that right now because I've been pushing off my lyme disease testing for way to long), and enough to be comfortable with myself. But I suppose I should add to that enough to attract a girl.

Because like I said before, most men in the world keep their appearances up just to attract women, and those that don't are mostly arrogant or gay. Mostly.

Anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

Just as soon as I belong, then it's time for me to disappear

That's a line from one of Metallica's later songs. It doesn't compare well with their earlier work but it's still decent. It was I think part of the Mission Impossible II soundtrack (I never saw Mission Impossible II or III or the TV series, but I saw I and liked it, so maybe I'll get to the TV series sometime and maybe I'll watch a bit of II or III if it's on tv.), but more importantly it calls to a certain part of personality and so perhaps that is what you should remember it for. I am a person with a sort of eternal restlessness. It is partially due to my disease, partially due to my ambition, partially due to a certain force of personality the two contribute two (I'll elaborate more on this upon another hour). But it always calls on me to move. And yet, movement isn't enough, the movement has to actually take me away from somewhere for it to matter to me. When I was younger this was something possible, I could wonder into the woods, or follow a stream under a bridge, or just go down a road for a ways. When I was young there was a sense that there was an external world beyond my home that was still ready to be explored, still unkown, still filled with limitless possibilities. But as I got older I began to understand that the internal world of my home was in fact part of that external world, and all this world was explored. Those few pieces that are not explored are contained, understood, studied, out of reach or empty.

The unknown can no longer simply be walked into. Or at least, well, when I was young I could explore for a while and then come home, the unknown world was just down the road, or just a jog into the woods. Now, just taking a trip somewhere doesn't expose me to a new world, just a little known branch of my world. The way my restlessness calls to me I am tempted to run out into the night and catch a train and go somewhere far away. But I'd still be a phone call from home, I'd still be connected to my old world. And I still would have to come home.

The only way I could really get out into a new world is if I moved, if I actually packed up my stuff and went somewhere else and lived and worked there. But the dilemma is this. Say I did do that, I mean it's one more year till I graduate from college, and I'm porbably going to move (probably to New York (New York, New York!)), at first it will be a new world, filled with anxiety and wonder. I'll have some problems dealing with that, but I'll be fascinated by the city no doubt. But eventually I'll get used to it, understand it, and it will become my home. And then I will belong. And then it will be time for me to disappear. The restlessness does not disappear because I am in a new place. It didn't disappear when I got to New Brunswick, it will most likely not disappear if I go to New York, and so I will want to go elsewhere, and if I do I will be filled with wonder at the occassion, and then I will want to go further. I will want to leave and leave again and again, because the restlessness continues.

But I realize I can't live like that. Just as I realized that it made no sense years and years ago to leave home once my restlessness manifested in this way. But I would like. I would like some place, that has enough of a pull for me that it offers me enough to counteract the restlessness. I mean, home does, Rutgers does while I'm in college, etc. But I'd like somewhere that has enough for me that the restlessness does not bother me. Some place I feel at home. Perhaps that's why I want a girl.

I heard some one talking about how guys just want with a girl is to get laid, but for me I'd think (never having any real romantic relationship, not to mention no sexual relationship (I'm actually not planning to have sex till marriage, which isn't really here or there but this seems an appopriate enough place to put that), I don't know exactly what effect having sex would have on my values, but in most likelyhood they wouldn't change too much) what would be more important in my relationship, was being able to talk with her. When you talk to someone you love, it eases the spirit, it gives you peace. It is hard to imagine a place I can really find that is home, but if I found a girl who I fall in love with, truly in love with, being with her, simply being some place where we can talk, that would feel like home.

Or so I conjecture, so I hypothesize. So I think. Anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

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