From Geology!

These are some random things I've written during Geology lectures.

I wish that people were born with their body shape and that it couldn't be changed. The lanky people would be lanky, the fat fat, lean lean, curvy curvy. There would be no health benefits, defects, associated with any of these, there would be no changes, attraction would be equal and WE COULD JUST BE. No, no, maybe not.
~
Something wicked-Jonestown-why didn't Jones just give his followers Prozac and then suddenly stop? Half of America knows that the withdraw would be more painful than cyanide kool-aid. They would kill themselves. It would have been more of a statement, doom, yes. Probably more messy, too. Prozac is expensive though.
That is fucked up.
~
The right-way mentality. We travel on the right, always on the right.
~
What I remember about the guy I saw a long time was that he had a lot of friends but seemed very lonely.
~
"He grows his own weed. Other things, too. You didn't know that?"
"No."
"That's what his friends say. They would know."
"He has friends?"
"Have you seen him? Of course he does."
"Yeah, I know." I was sinking into the seat and suddenly felt very far away.
"I think he's single. There was a rumor that he was gay."
"It doesn't matter." It didn't.
Outside the highway blurred, like a dull gray river. I suddenly wanted to open the door and roll out onto the road, into the water. I'd be carried away by the current, tumbling around, eventually landing on the bed to be buried by mud. I reached for the handle, rested my hand on it, unbuckled my seatbelt...
"What are..."
I pulled and she screamed.
.
Rising out of my dream her scream became mine, but my throat was crushed under the weight of some spectral tire and the noise died in my head.
~

What's in my doc folder?

This is the story I wrote for EN101. I only like the first half so that's all I'm posting. So there.

Mayn, Andrew

EN101 Prof. Benavidez

18 September 2008

What She Taught Me

In second grade I learned the meaning of the word “appalled” from Ms. McKenzie—I didn’t think so much about it then. I wasn’t phased, either, when Mrs. Donovan threw the dictionary across the room in fifth grade, and, when Mrs. Reed stormed from the classroom in seventh grade I was happy to have a free day. Walking past cornerstones and through the monolithic jaws of high school, however, I noticed that this place changed the teachers and it changed my peers. Or maybe it was just me who changed.

The story of the paper plane, sailing freely across a crowded room, was forgotten by my generation as we were slowly devoured by the social hierarchy and academic rigors of the school. We immediately abandoned the trappings of spit balls and “kick me” signs, forsaking them instead for devices left unmolested by our past selves. Our shields were made of tempered sarcasm and feigned apathy. We wielded camera phones, loud voices and deaf ears and though our insolence was never so bold as that of middle school or elementary school, it was, as I was soon to learn, infinitely more destructive.

High school saw me turn into a loner. I made it a point to sit in the middle of the row closest to the door so my eyes could wander lazily across the room, not so much looking at the board but watching the people who weren’t looking at it. The daydreamers, doodlers, the talkers; they all fascinated me. Behind me I listened to pencils: the incessant whine as they were dragged irreverently across textbook pages or graphite bouncing around in half empty cartridges as they hit the floor. Where the pencils were absent I heard hushed whispers, phones no one dared answer and the restless shuffling of feet, polishing in vain the grimy floor. You see, when you spend enough time by yourself your senses sharpen, so that your mind can find obscure details to cling to, things to satisfy that strange well inside your head that insists you’re actually a part of the world around you. However, in this time of quiet reflection I don’t recall ever hearing the teacher.

That changed one day in November. While we were only a month into the school year the awkward blanket of silence that covered the freshman had long since begun to fray; we had finally begun to realize that high school teachers were not going to be the paragons of discipline we had been told to expect.

I'm back, but for how long?

I'm just about to copy stuff out of my English and geology spirals. I do all of my blogging during class. I'm not sure what to put anywhere anymore.

"Is, it's hard, confusing, to be so incredibly up and then so incredibly down. Sometimes it hurts, when it happens, but it always hurts then. I was looking at myself in the mirror the other, yesterday, and it was hard to look away or move. I felt like I was falling out of my body and though I could see the drain I'm pretty sure that's where I was heading. I don't know how I came back together after that, but I did. The story triggered it, then I saw the pictures and it became worse because it didn't didn't seem like me and yet it was me, which hurt more. But I need to redeem myself for that paper so face up andrew because you've overcome worse. Just go and you will be OK. It took a geology lecture for me to realize that I'm alright so...thanks."

Those commas are more important than anything else in there, I think.

"I saw a guy who I haven't seen in a while - we don't know eachother and while it's not for me to saw how far he has fallen I can't help but think he has changed. Or maybe I changed. That possibility has been pretty common of late, more likely it has always been that way.

I can't help but think we all know only what we know, I hate that idea but how could it be anything else?"

Here's an old poem I found on my computer:

Shivering in the dark,
Watching the tips of cigarettes
Sway back and forth in the night
Like beady eyes of some
Cancerous predator.
I follow them like a moth,
High,
On some sordid promise of friendship.

Waiting in the cold,
Longing for an offer from these strangers
That are queer like the shadows
Cast from the street light.
Members of a vaporous cult
I envied from afar.
Cast away,
As they knew me better
than I, myself.

I don't remember when I wrote that.

Facebook and The Jumper

Two dreams last night, neither of them very strange considering what usually comes up when I'm asleep.

1. Me being exhilarated upon seeing dozens of new comments on Facebook until I realized it wasn't my page I was looking at.
2. A smiling man in a green suit (A Dirty Job?) on a 5th floor balcony with a pill bottle and umbrella in his hand. He begins throwing the pills, 1 by 1, to the crowd below but quickly grabs handfuls and tosses them that way. Then he stands on the rail, opens his umbrella and jumps. I was standing in the crowd and knew what was going to happen as I had seen it before: the umbrella would tear and he would plummet to his death. I'm not sure why but my tongue, which was black, shot out and grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him downwards before the umbrella would broke. He resisted and started rising instead, pulling me off my feet. The crowd grabbed onto me, trying to help save the man.

~

I love it when Maddy's tail wags, seeing as how she doesn't have one. =D

It's hot in Disney.

I'm in Disney World (or on Disney property at least) right now. It's 91 degrees down here, so there's a lot of half-naked guys walking around. Awesome. Except they've got their girl-friends, and they act really straight. And the closet fags among them keep it to themselves, like I do. You never know, which is the problem. All in all it's sort of discouraging. Oh well! At least I can look. We've been taking a lot of pictures down here, as well--not of the hot guys (though I have been trying to fit them into some of the shots, hehe) but of us everywhere. It's a good thing. It seems like when I turned ten we suddenly stopped taking pictures. If people looked in our family albums they might think we dropped off the face of the earth around the year 2000. Maybe earlier, I don't know. It sort of sucks though. My parents aren't in pictures either, so they don't really exist in the material world [of others].

~

Part of me hopes I'll get sunburned on all these trips I'm going to be taking this summer. I always look more healthy and less like a ghost when I'm red. I don't ever recall being tan. Would it look good? Why did whoever have to make us so self-conscious? JUST GET OUT THERE! I wanted to talk to this guy on the last day of my fitness class because I knew I'd never see him again; so what if he brushed me off? I didn't, but maybe some day I will. I need muscles!

~

We're going to the Magic Kingdom tomorrow (my dad is done with his meetings) so that should be fun. I hope we all meet up in front of the castle, or around the lake, and watch fireworks like they did in that episode of Full House. Man, Steve was hot.

The good doctor.

I saw Lyerly today for the first time in a few months. He called about twice a day everyday the last month trying to setup an appointment so I could go meet with him. Unfortunately, nearly everyone in my family has an aversion to answering the phone. Anyway, he took me off the Resperdal at my request; four pills is a bit much for me and we're always out of one of them, so I decided I'd try walking away with three prescriptions instead of four.

I got drunk a couple days ago (4 shots of Southern Comfort and 5 beers...I'm both impressed and disappointed with my self) and I still feel groggy. This is littered with misplaced commas and such, I'm sure, but I think I'm going to bed now. I have an exam in the morning.

Oh Santa Fe Cafe...

I just got home from Santa Fe Cafe in College Park and I had a good time. It was for my friend's show. Yeah. I'm there to watch her but it seems I spend more time staring at love interests and hot waiters. In the end, all I leave with is hat hair.

Mad World...

I just listened to that song, the version by the Red Paintings. It's a very sobering song and I'm not sure if I like it or not. Half of it sounds like whining, but really meaningful whining. Oh well.

-

I did go running yesterday, but only ran half of it. I did get the runner's high so that was good. I changed my time from 15 minutes to 9 minutes, so I feel a little bit bad about that.

-

I took a test in PE183 today. It was my last class. I hope I continue to exercise even when I get out. It's funny because initially I was sitting up against the wall taking it but I found out I had to move because I couldn't stop looking at the really hot guy across me. So distracting. I ended up on my stomach and it was actually really comfortable. I wish I hadn't finished so early because I would have liked to just linger there. I wish the class wasn't over.

-

I had my last writing class yesterday. I'm going to miss the people in it; it was a very fun class.

I'm going running...

I'm probably going to run my 1.5 mile for PE183 in a few minutes. I haven't gone running [outside, in front of people] in a while so this should be interesting. This is to be the post-cardio-respiratory-endurance lab and seeing as how my pre-cardio-respiratory-endurance lab didn't ever happen I'm interested in seeing how this run stacks up against my imaginary one at the beginning of the semester. My predictions include fail with a side of suck and a light dusting of humility. Horray.

-

I also have to write a few (7) critiques for my writing class tonight. I hate that I procrastinate on these because I do like reading other people's stories and it's not fair to them that I rush through it. Even though they say that they hate their stories or that the stories are "nothing" it's a little sliver of them that I'm taking the time to critique.

*Okay, this post doesn't make much sense but I just woke up and I'm a bit flustered about how I'm supposed to procrastinate with all of these things to do.

Reed

I got an information packet today from Reed College, a private institution in Oregon. This is the only college I want to go to, but they only accept 40 transfer students each fall. I guess it's understandable because the enrollment is just over 1400 and the student to professor ratio they fervently maintain is 10:1. I like it but I'm nervous. A lot of scholars (not just alumni, mind you) describe it as the most intellectual undergraduate university in the country, something that scares and excites me. I think I would fit in there but I don't have the commitment to knowledge that they seem to require. I don't read nearly as much as I used to, nor do I study. I mostly play City of Heroes. However, I think the part of me that desperately wants to go there shows that maybe there is a little bit of intellectual left inside. It gives me hope.

-

I feel nauseous but only in my head, so I think I'm going to leave health half an hour early or maybe not go at all. I'm really not sure if I should do that though. I don't know how many absences I have left in that class...probably none. There's only three sessions left too, the last one being our final exam. It's all going to be over soon. The summer will come and I'll get depressed when I don't do anything. No, not this year though. I'm going to go to the gym religiously and find a personal trainer. I'm also going to get a job. I hope. Now is the time to start looking, I guess.

-

I better leave. There aren't any seats left in the computer lab and someone could probably use this to actually do something academic related.

I'm listening to the songs of a dozen old crushes...

At least that's what my Facebook* status update says. When I say that I mean I like these bands because the people I want to "know" like them. One example is Third Eye Blind when I found out this guy was going to one of their concerts instead of coming to class--to me that was awesome. (Props to the guy who said "He grew a third eye and went blind." That still makes me laugh. :) )) Now whenever Third Eye Blind, or any band that sounds like them, comes on I think of him and feel this strange longing. He was very charismatic. Another one is Alexisonfire, a band of another crush of mine. I liked them before I knew he liked them but now when I listen to them I think of him. It's good in a way in that the thoughts I have of them are pleasant and make me smile but it's bittersweet. I don't think I'll ever know them.

I want to be back in the cohort. I want to see the people I admire every day.

*I did make one, finally. I like and don't like it at the same time (it's sort of depressing with intermittent wall posts and the few responses from the strangers I try to talk to. I admit it).**

-

More than a year later I'm starting to post here again, in hopes that someone will find it. The Bowflex has since gathered dust and I've learned to ignore my parents and grandparents bickering.