Yesterday. Yesterday was quite an unpleasant day. One of the most unpleasant days I've had in some time. Most of it stems from lack of sleep (I stayed up til 1, woke up around 6:30 or so), and since I don't eat, that's not much energy to work off of. That, plus the deficiency throughout the week, leads to a cranky, jerk-ish Dylan. Now, I know, I'm ornery most of the time. But when I just lay on verbal abuse, even when it's mostly feigned, it makes me severely chastise myself in retrospect. Ah well.
But lack of sleep wasn't the only problem. You see, I got so tired or depressed or apathetic or something that I developed a case of "selective acknowledgement." I would only acknowledge certain aspects of reality. So, when I went to take my Spanish quiz, I conveniently ignored the advice to remember certain tidbits of knowledge vital to my success. But my Spanish grade won't suffer over one subpar quiz. What will suffer is my abysmal performance yesterday in Chemistry. On the optomistic side, my grade in the class will drop from a 96 to a 92. It was very bad. I actually put "magic" for one of my answers, in frustration. The worst part was that it could have been somewhat averted. I just simply subconsciously ignored Mrs. Sayers saying we only had 25 or so minutes to do the test. So I started and thought "This isn't too bad." Then she said "5 minutes left" and I had finished 6. That bad. I also chose to ignore the advice of what to study for our equilibrium quiz and jumped right in. And by in, I mean down down down.
If I applied this affliction to other areas of my life, I might decide that fire did not harm me and promptly procede to completely encase myself in fire because it was a tad chilly. Or I would convenietly forget that other cars are made of solids and not gases, promptly plowing into an 18wheeler because I saw a shiny quarter lieing on the side of the interstate. That sort of train wreck. Things like that would not happen in Math. Surely not... Although Statistics has me questioning even that.
But that leads to an important topic, forgetfulness. I consider myself pretty absent minded. The only way I remember things is if they're sources of stress which really doesn't lead to a healthy mental state. But you already knew that. I suppose the topic I'm thinking of is more than forgetfulness, though. It's becoming so involved in something that everything else gets warped out of perspective and loses meaning. For instance, those quizzes and tests. In the long run, they don't matter (that's a dangerous road in and of itself). But at the moment, they took a hold of me and weighed me down. It's the same with all my pyschological buffers. I put them up so I can somehow achieve some super-human command over base emotions like rage and envy, but I gradually forget them and fall victim in the aftermath. Envy, especially, has been a problem. I try not to compare myself to other people, because school should not be about competition and should only be a personal test with personal goals. And yet, any success of others I merely reflect as a failure of myself. I suppose it's not really envy, just disappointment and further compounding my inferiority complex. I dunno, I confuse myself...
Anyway, back to things that might pertain to you. Seeing as how some people have taken to not shouldering their Anarchy Blog posting responsibilities, I've finally created my free fall blog. I know the reasons some of us have for not postig on Anarchy, and I understand, but when you want to do some creative character writing now, you need to be able to do it! Thus, I introduce to you, www.evilandgood.blogspot.com . It's got a more modern theme, the details of which are in the invite and first entry. I'm not very good at being truely evil and dark(not very good at anything, really, but being evil even less so), but I'll give it a shot. ANYONE interested should IM or email me and I'll invite you, no strings attached. Post once, post a thousand times. Have fun. That's all I ask. So please let me know. That's all, until next time...
Friday, April 9
Monday, April 5
Marching to the Beat of an Off-Time Drummer
That's what all you people will be doing next year when I make the snare! MUWAHAHAHAHA
But seriously, I'm aiming for cymbals. Now, although it is often equated with "lowliest of the percussion," I need only remind you that the triangle is a percussion instrument. And believe you me, if "triangle" was a viable marching percussion instrument I'd sign up faster than you can say "Individual reports seem to indicate that only 3.1151361% of head lice agree with the latest Gallup Poll about whether head lice read the New York Post." Or perhaps faster than you can really think of the deep implications of such a statement. It's hypothetical, back off ya bum!
So I've got two tests and lots of Chemistry due tomorrow. I even need to read a whole history chapter. But do I get to work early and stop wasting time? Is the Pope Catholic? Is Peter Jennings an ex-Canadian? Is there really a point to anything? Well, the first two of the rhetorical questions meant to make an obvious point have pretty obvious answers, I think. Of course the Pope isn't Catholic, he's Presbyterian and Peter Jennings will always be Canadian, who does he think he's fooling? As for the third, that's a topic we could discuss for seconds and that would really cut into my sittin' around time. My oh so precious sittin' around time. How I adore thee, yet you torture me so...
So anywho, my day. I haven't talked, extensively, about my day for quite some time instead getting into whatever those long, stupid tirades about whatever nonsense my mind throws at me to keep down dissent. (On a side note, should your mind ever start to push you around, just smack it upside the...uh...philsophies a few times and tell it to get back in the kitchen and make you some Math or complex physics theories about the origin of the universe, even if it is devised into very hostile camps of poetical allusions). Anyway, suffice it to say I generally decide my days are so unimportant to the point that they're not worth mentioning. However, should this trend of procrastination TO THE EXTREME! continue, I might be forced to, with the expected hyperbole, of course. I mean, really, this thing is hard and icky enough to read anyway! What would you do without the hyperbole...
Probably get a job, you no account bums. But I'm one to talk. Never much for "work." Why else would I be a teacher? (Ok, so teaching counts as "Work", but if you do it right and enjoy it, I think that definition no longer applies). So that's about all I can think to put down, at the moment. Perhaps I'll start reading about the 40's and like it! Or maybe I'll do my Chemistry outline and like it! Or there's even a slight chance I'll study for my History of Statistics test or whatever the Euphrates I have to do tomorrow and like it! Or perhaps I'll just wait until next time...
But seriously, I'm aiming for cymbals. Now, although it is often equated with "lowliest of the percussion," I need only remind you that the triangle is a percussion instrument. And believe you me, if "triangle" was a viable marching percussion instrument I'd sign up faster than you can say "Individual reports seem to indicate that only 3.1151361% of head lice agree with the latest Gallup Poll about whether head lice read the New York Post." Or perhaps faster than you can really think of the deep implications of such a statement. It's hypothetical, back off ya bum!
So I've got two tests and lots of Chemistry due tomorrow. I even need to read a whole history chapter. But do I get to work early and stop wasting time? Is the Pope Catholic? Is Peter Jennings an ex-Canadian? Is there really a point to anything? Well, the first two of the rhetorical questions meant to make an obvious point have pretty obvious answers, I think. Of course the Pope isn't Catholic, he's Presbyterian and Peter Jennings will always be Canadian, who does he think he's fooling? As for the third, that's a topic we could discuss for seconds and that would really cut into my sittin' around time. My oh so precious sittin' around time. How I adore thee, yet you torture me so...
So anywho, my day. I haven't talked, extensively, about my day for quite some time instead getting into whatever those long, stupid tirades about whatever nonsense my mind throws at me to keep down dissent. (On a side note, should your mind ever start to push you around, just smack it upside the...uh...philsophies a few times and tell it to get back in the kitchen and make you some Math or complex physics theories about the origin of the universe, even if it is devised into very hostile camps of poetical allusions). Anyway, suffice it to say I generally decide my days are so unimportant to the point that they're not worth mentioning. However, should this trend of procrastination TO THE EXTREME! continue, I might be forced to, with the expected hyperbole, of course. I mean, really, this thing is hard and icky enough to read anyway! What would you do without the hyperbole...
Probably get a job, you no account bums. But I'm one to talk. Never much for "work." Why else would I be a teacher? (Ok, so teaching counts as "Work", but if you do it right and enjoy it, I think that definition no longer applies). So that's about all I can think to put down, at the moment. Perhaps I'll start reading about the 40's and like it! Or maybe I'll do my Chemistry outline and like it! Or there's even a slight chance I'll study for my History of Statistics test or whatever the Euphrates I have to do tomorrow and like it! Or perhaps I'll just wait until next time...
Sunday, April 4
WARNING: You Will Be Warned!
Eh, I had some free time and inspiration, so I got a little too "verbose" this weekend. Not as a complex pyscho analysis of myself or a breaking down of society as I've done before, but still enough to make all of you go "eeewwww." So suffice it to say that I suggest you go and read the new Perse entry (Yes, he's finally returned!) and go take a nap. Unless you're really bored. And forgiving. Otherwise, you'll just have to wait until next time...
The Sound of Music
The sound of music filled the air at just the hint of sound.
This case of paranoia is how we two are found.
A pinprick is unearthly pain, torrents of tears unfold.
A match is an inferno, and an ice cube’s oh so cold.
We Love, we Hate, we reciprocate all feelings sent our way.
But our effects are ten-fold strong, they can’t be kept at bay.
My Love believes that this is how we always ought to feel;
So I begrudgingly comply to laugh, to cry, to reel.
I have my doubts about this path, it seems a bit too much;
But Heaven’s Envy convinces me with her caressing touch.
She claims it is experience that I must live to claim,
Every moment is divine, and none are quite the same.
The rise and fall’s a constant haul, a climb both up and down,
An awful assault of senses that makes all smiles a frown.
I feel so unclean living so much, but She’s the one it’s for;
Thus I dive into the sea and above the clouds we soar.
She seems to make it all worthwhile, this Love, this Life, this Way;
Yet still the feelings take their toll: the price my soul must pay.
The Dammed break forth and overwhelm my self during the fray;
So in the end I’m forced to either writhe or run away.
Thus we live, we wretched two, grasping every thorn.
I wish for euphoric ecstasy, and in return get only scorn.
This case of paranoia is how we two are found.
A pinprick is unearthly pain, torrents of tears unfold.
A match is an inferno, and an ice cube’s oh so cold.
We Love, we Hate, we reciprocate all feelings sent our way.
But our effects are ten-fold strong, they can’t be kept at bay.
My Love believes that this is how we always ought to feel;
So I begrudgingly comply to laugh, to cry, to reel.
I have my doubts about this path, it seems a bit too much;
But Heaven’s Envy convinces me with her caressing touch.
She claims it is experience that I must live to claim,
Every moment is divine, and none are quite the same.
The rise and fall’s a constant haul, a climb both up and down,
An awful assault of senses that makes all smiles a frown.
I feel so unclean living so much, but She’s the one it’s for;
Thus I dive into the sea and above the clouds we soar.
She seems to make it all worthwhile, this Love, this Life, this Way;
Yet still the feelings take their toll: the price my soul must pay.
The Dammed break forth and overwhelm my self during the fray;
So in the end I’m forced to either writhe or run away.
Thus we live, we wretched two, grasping every thorn.
I wish for euphoric ecstasy, and in return get only scorn.
The Battle Lines are Sketched
My teachers need to give me more homework that's due tomorrow. If I end up with too little that needs to be done immediately, I go off and do stupid things like writing "poetry," as this may loosely be called. Although it was a kind of neat idea. I didn't initially plan on it, but as I was thinking on it, I decided that the two philosophies that seem to give me the most trouble are romanticism and nihilism (not exactly accurate to call it that, but it's the closest thing I can think of). The two forces are often equated by me as heart and mind and seem to be in a constant struggle to conquer my soul. So in anticipation for my possible split personalities I went and named these forces based on poetical allusions as represented in the two poems (the other being "The King and I" found below which you youth legislators will have missed and may want to read first). The heart is Annabel, or "Anna", from Poe's "Annabel Lee", representing feeling, Love, caring, and romanticism. The mind is Ozymandius, or "Ozy", representing apathy, detachment, and pointlessness. The soul is Dyl, representing, uh, puppy kicking.
Really, Anna and Ozy make a sort of "Odd Couple to the Extreme" scenario, which might actually be a pretty interesting sitcom (hehe, maybe an idea for a future entry...). It's rather amusing for me to put it in this light, because you can see a bouncy little girl named Anna running around,getting into trouble, and doing all sorts of stuff and a dark, forboding, apathetic old man Ozzy who yells at all the young whipper-snappers to keep quiet so as to not interrupt his shuffleboard time.
But this comical representation is just a guise for two quite sinister forces. Both do have their benefits, Ozy's being no pain, Anna's being a chance for happiness and joy. But alone, each are inherently flawed and doomed to failure. Ozymandius (or the philosophy he represents) would end in morbid desolation, tired of the endless sea of sand to the point that such purposelessness is unbearable. Or rather, there's no reason to bear it. Similarly, Annabel would want to confess and scream every single emotion and whim that struck or lightly tapped her. This would result in three-fold destruction in that the strain from rejection, sadness, and grief, not to mention the close to bursting power of joy and ecstasy would sink/consume her; she probably couldn't stand the superficiality of anyone or thing and instead of suffering disillusionment that everyone didn't think of life as the highest apex of emotion and experience, she'd have to drown herself; and others couldn't tolerate such an exhibition of emotion and feelings because restraint is a respected quality in our society and people's insecurities and true feelings often make others uneasy about themselves, and the reminder is too painful to bear.
Thus, the two philosophies would each result in destruction. Now I'm more of an "Ozybel" or "Annamandius" with a few other paths floating around in that warped, twisted, foolish mess that is my mind. But when I was examining my future and reality, it did occur to me that when I approached either side of the spectrum, death seemed to be the only answer. Anna needs Ozy's rational judgment and "buffer" effect, so that each slight isn't an assault upon her very essence; too "put things into perspective", so to speak. And Ozy needs Anna to have some reason to go on, for some reason to continue to exist period. Thus, in the middle I can take most anything that comes.
However these two "philosophies" don't want to coexist. They won't take compromise for an answer. So they constantly struggle for superiority. When I lean towards one a bit, I call upon the other to comfort me, which in turn plunges me deeper into their side, which as we know is really depression, and I have to use the other to bail me out and I end up only falling further. It's similiar to a sine graph (That's sine, from precalculus; basically a rollercoaster) with progressively greater altitudes (heights). The only way to survive is to not look to either, but to rest solely upon the equillibrium of the two (meaning where both are treated equally and balance each other out). Essentially force them coexist. And, of course, that results in "varying results."
That's about it. I just find it rather remarkable that either method, fully caring or not caring at all, result in the same logical solution. Two radically differing philosophies with the same effects. There's probably a message somewhere in that. But I got into that mess by thinking, so I'm going to let you figure it out. Maybe I should just do drugs. No one would be able to tell the difference. That is, until next time....
Really, Anna and Ozy make a sort of "Odd Couple to the Extreme" scenario, which might actually be a pretty interesting sitcom (hehe, maybe an idea for a future entry...). It's rather amusing for me to put it in this light, because you can see a bouncy little girl named Anna running around,getting into trouble, and doing all sorts of stuff and a dark, forboding, apathetic old man Ozzy who yells at all the young whipper-snappers to keep quiet so as to not interrupt his shuffleboard time.
But this comical representation is just a guise for two quite sinister forces. Both do have their benefits, Ozy's being no pain, Anna's being a chance for happiness and joy. But alone, each are inherently flawed and doomed to failure. Ozymandius (or the philosophy he represents) would end in morbid desolation, tired of the endless sea of sand to the point that such purposelessness is unbearable. Or rather, there's no reason to bear it. Similarly, Annabel would want to confess and scream every single emotion and whim that struck or lightly tapped her. This would result in three-fold destruction in that the strain from rejection, sadness, and grief, not to mention the close to bursting power of joy and ecstasy would sink/consume her; she probably couldn't stand the superficiality of anyone or thing and instead of suffering disillusionment that everyone didn't think of life as the highest apex of emotion and experience, she'd have to drown herself; and others couldn't tolerate such an exhibition of emotion and feelings because restraint is a respected quality in our society and people's insecurities and true feelings often make others uneasy about themselves, and the reminder is too painful to bear.
Thus, the two philosophies would each result in destruction. Now I'm more of an "Ozybel" or "Annamandius" with a few other paths floating around in that warped, twisted, foolish mess that is my mind. But when I was examining my future and reality, it did occur to me that when I approached either side of the spectrum, death seemed to be the only answer. Anna needs Ozy's rational judgment and "buffer" effect, so that each slight isn't an assault upon her very essence; too "put things into perspective", so to speak. And Ozy needs Anna to have some reason to go on, for some reason to continue to exist period. Thus, in the middle I can take most anything that comes.
However these two "philosophies" don't want to coexist. They won't take compromise for an answer. So they constantly struggle for superiority. When I lean towards one a bit, I call upon the other to comfort me, which in turn plunges me deeper into their side, which as we know is really depression, and I have to use the other to bail me out and I end up only falling further. It's similiar to a sine graph (That's sine, from precalculus; basically a rollercoaster) with progressively greater altitudes (heights). The only way to survive is to not look to either, but to rest solely upon the equillibrium of the two (meaning where both are treated equally and balance each other out). Essentially force them coexist. And, of course, that results in "varying results."
That's about it. I just find it rather remarkable that either method, fully caring or not caring at all, result in the same logical solution. Two radically differing philosophies with the same effects. There's probably a message somewhere in that. But I got into that mess by thinking, so I'm going to let you figure it out. Maybe I should just do drugs. No one would be able to tell the difference. That is, until next time....
Friday, April 2
The King and I
The King and I sit upon our throne, observing each day pass.
We watch the grains of sand whirl by our prison made of glass.
These walls we built that won’t come down are clear, but stand opaque;
For though we see the moments ripe, no actions can we take.
Resigned are we, unto our fate, with Hope a pleasant dream.
Nothing worthy finds the eye, no greatness do we deem.
But the dust accosts my soul and attachments hence are made
Which make the ending all the worse when they must wane and fade.
A trinket here, a diamond there, all worn away by time.
Still we remain here, passively, witnesses to the crime.
I thought, perhaps, I should reach out and save them from their fate,
But my companion convinces me that they won’t satiate.
I miss the sparkle of each stone I’ll never see again.
Though new jewels do pass my way, it isn’t as it’d been.
So I repine for gems long past, while more fly into view;
Before I mourn each fragment gone, the cycle starts anew.
But each new rock is just a curse: a burden, not a gain!
For though I try to reach and grasp, I can’t transcend the pane!
I soon forget each glimmer that once kept me insane,
So now I’m back to apathy, no sunshine for our reign.
Thus we watch, we wretched two, and fades our rejected bliss;
Still we cannot help but wonder what it is we always miss.
We watch the grains of sand whirl by our prison made of glass.
These walls we built that won’t come down are clear, but stand opaque;
For though we see the moments ripe, no actions can we take.
Resigned are we, unto our fate, with Hope a pleasant dream.
Nothing worthy finds the eye, no greatness do we deem.
But the dust accosts my soul and attachments hence are made
Which make the ending all the worse when they must wane and fade.
A trinket here, a diamond there, all worn away by time.
Still we remain here, passively, witnesses to the crime.
I thought, perhaps, I should reach out and save them from their fate,
But my companion convinces me that they won’t satiate.
I miss the sparkle of each stone I’ll never see again.
Though new jewels do pass my way, it isn’t as it’d been.
So I repine for gems long past, while more fly into view;
Before I mourn each fragment gone, the cycle starts anew.
But each new rock is just a curse: a burden, not a gain!
For though I try to reach and grasp, I can’t transcend the pane!
I soon forget each glimmer that once kept me insane,
So now I’m back to apathy, no sunshine for our reign.
Thus we watch, we wretched two, and fades our rejected bliss;
Still we cannot help but wonder what it is we always miss.
Unanimously Elected Royalty
With so many people gone, I thought it'd be an apt time to speak of that very subject. I considered writing a riddle about absence or loss, but I've already done "nothing" so I went with Ozy instead. As you might pick up from the poem, the King of Kings and I have a love/hate relationship that ends with blank stares and quite a few "eh's." I don't really know why I bother writing "poetry" as one could loosely call it, I'm supposed to be a Math man, but I'm still 17 so I can chalk it up to youthful indiscretion and be done with it when I'm adult. Handy little excuse, eh?
Anyway, back to the topic onhand. Loss. Absence. That feeling we often get when we feel so small and purposeless in a cruel, cruel world where if anyone cares, a rarity indeed, it is merely a guise to hurt or manipulate you for their own sadistic desires in order to satisfy their own insecurities. Not a pleasant feeling. I suppose attempting to block oneself off, emotionally at least, from the entirety of conscious beings normally results in a freefall into despair for the support of others who, whether you consciously acknowledge or reciprocate it or not, really do care is now torn out from under you like the main column supporting the architecture of your soul. Thus you think only to return the hate, for that is what raw apathy with no traces of love turns into, to all those who so callously have forsaken you.
Soon you come to realize that it's just been a mistake. Somehow a hole punctured in the fabric of your support network was torn asunder and although you might not notice it at the time, that small pinprick deflated a once large and buoyant balloon. Maybe it wasn't all that big to begin with, but the loss of air, no matter how much you had, is too much to bear.
Now this is almost certainly romantic hyperbole, but I'm an inverted romantic fool, so I've got the liscense and time to exert it! What this is really about is the "paved paradise" mentality. "You don't know what you've got til it's gone." I think I must be a victim of this unfortunate little syndrome, but in a delayed sort of way. I can take death and change fine. When people leave, I attribute to the process of time, inevitable, nothing more. But subconsciously that balloon begins to deflate and when I try to fall back on something, there's not as much there to cushion my fall. The loss just leaves you empty. For all a person's faults, for the few times you rarely see them, for all the annoying qualities they have, once they've gone your life seems a bit emptier. The death, the departure themselves don't mean much initially. But in time their true effects are revealed.
For me, the most recent "paradises to have been paved" are people like Elizabeth Gilliam, Austin Bowling, and my Beretta. In the case of the Beretta, I didn't realize how much it meant to me. It's dylapidated(Yes that's mispelled on purpose ;) ) condition, it's annoying stick shift, it's redneckish exterior all had a sort of rustic charm that is now gone forever. It had an aura, a being that even if it was in some ways pathetic or repugnant, it had a sort of personality whose absence was felt as much as the absence of any person.
I view myself as a sort of stoic fatalist, taking what comes and going along with the current, so I didn't think change would effect me. Indeed, one of my first thoughts upon limping out of the broken wreckage was "Confound it, I didn't die!" not "Oh my poor, wonderful car!" Similarly when Austin left for North Carolina. I took it as it came, not thinking much of it. It simply occurred, I soon forgot about it. But when he was no longer there to greet me everyday in Chemistry, no longer there to rabidly support his beloved Steelers, no longer in the band room after school for Cory and I to mingle with and discuss the "News of the Day", my life really did get emptier. Similiarly with Elizabeth G. I just took her prescense for granted, but I can no longer be a "minion." The band room is certainly emptier each afternoon, filled with strange freshmen and others, most of which I've never met or have either drifted from. The avenues of support fall one by one, each just a drop in the bucket. It's not initially clear clear their effect, but the combination adds up.
Certainly, I've compensated and expanded. I've gotten to know Cory and David better (I think, they don't speak loud enough so I may be mis-translating Silentese). I make new outlets to new people, and certainly I'm weathering this new emotional storm rather well (at the moment), with the sun soon to fill my horizon. But the loss is still felt, and so poignantly sometimes that I do indeed feel bitter and hateful towards all of the world.
And it gets worse. In a matter of monthes, the Senior class will be gone. Of course, I don't know many of them and of the few that I know, I know even fewer well, but the loss will still be felt. It's simply a fact of life. New bonds will be made just to be smashed to pieces a few moments later. Certainly if I made the effort I could retain some semblance of a "relationship" of some sort with these people, but I don't even do that now. I'm more of a "take what comes to me and let the past be what it is" kind of person. But I have to suffer the consequences that it entails too. And like most "consequences", they simply aren't pleasant.
Thus I sandsurf my way through life, letting things I should grasp hold of slip through my fingers. I can stoically accept the loneliness and regret that comes with it, but that doesn't make it any less painful. Such is the eternal circle. But that's another discussion...
On a final note, another "loss" is that of my calculator watch. Late the week before spring break, my poor, faithful little watch's battery died. Since December of 2000 or 2001, it has provided me with the time, math, and nerdiness I eeded. I would hardly ever "wear" it, even before the strap broke, preferring to sling it around on pencils or wrap it around itself. When the strap finally did break, I discovered the much preferrable method of keeping the wristwatch in my pocket and this method has served me well since. I don't believe It's not likely to be revived. It will be sorely missed.
And now, your much desired moment of silence. That is, until next time...
Anyway, back to the topic onhand. Loss. Absence. That feeling we often get when we feel so small and purposeless in a cruel, cruel world where if anyone cares, a rarity indeed, it is merely a guise to hurt or manipulate you for their own sadistic desires in order to satisfy their own insecurities. Not a pleasant feeling. I suppose attempting to block oneself off, emotionally at least, from the entirety of conscious beings normally results in a freefall into despair for the support of others who, whether you consciously acknowledge or reciprocate it or not, really do care is now torn out from under you like the main column supporting the architecture of your soul. Thus you think only to return the hate, for that is what raw apathy with no traces of love turns into, to all those who so callously have forsaken you.
Soon you come to realize that it's just been a mistake. Somehow a hole punctured in the fabric of your support network was torn asunder and although you might not notice it at the time, that small pinprick deflated a once large and buoyant balloon. Maybe it wasn't all that big to begin with, but the loss of air, no matter how much you had, is too much to bear.
Now this is almost certainly romantic hyperbole, but I'm an inverted romantic fool, so I've got the liscense and time to exert it! What this is really about is the "paved paradise" mentality. "You don't know what you've got til it's gone." I think I must be a victim of this unfortunate little syndrome, but in a delayed sort of way. I can take death and change fine. When people leave, I attribute to the process of time, inevitable, nothing more. But subconsciously that balloon begins to deflate and when I try to fall back on something, there's not as much there to cushion my fall. The loss just leaves you empty. For all a person's faults, for the few times you rarely see them, for all the annoying qualities they have, once they've gone your life seems a bit emptier. The death, the departure themselves don't mean much initially. But in time their true effects are revealed.
For me, the most recent "paradises to have been paved" are people like Elizabeth Gilliam, Austin Bowling, and my Beretta. In the case of the Beretta, I didn't realize how much it meant to me. It's dylapidated(Yes that's mispelled on purpose ;) ) condition, it's annoying stick shift, it's redneckish exterior all had a sort of rustic charm that is now gone forever. It had an aura, a being that even if it was in some ways pathetic or repugnant, it had a sort of personality whose absence was felt as much as the absence of any person.
I view myself as a sort of stoic fatalist, taking what comes and going along with the current, so I didn't think change would effect me. Indeed, one of my first thoughts upon limping out of the broken wreckage was "Confound it, I didn't die!" not "Oh my poor, wonderful car!" Similarly when Austin left for North Carolina. I took it as it came, not thinking much of it. It simply occurred, I soon forgot about it. But when he was no longer there to greet me everyday in Chemistry, no longer there to rabidly support his beloved Steelers, no longer in the band room after school for Cory and I to mingle with and discuss the "News of the Day", my life really did get emptier. Similiarly with Elizabeth G. I just took her prescense for granted, but I can no longer be a "minion." The band room is certainly emptier each afternoon, filled with strange freshmen and others, most of which I've never met or have either drifted from. The avenues of support fall one by one, each just a drop in the bucket. It's not initially clear clear their effect, but the combination adds up.
Certainly, I've compensated and expanded. I've gotten to know Cory and David better (I think, they don't speak loud enough so I may be mis-translating Silentese). I make new outlets to new people, and certainly I'm weathering this new emotional storm rather well (at the moment), with the sun soon to fill my horizon. But the loss is still felt, and so poignantly sometimes that I do indeed feel bitter and hateful towards all of the world.
And it gets worse. In a matter of monthes, the Senior class will be gone. Of course, I don't know many of them and of the few that I know, I know even fewer well, but the loss will still be felt. It's simply a fact of life. New bonds will be made just to be smashed to pieces a few moments later. Certainly if I made the effort I could retain some semblance of a "relationship" of some sort with these people, but I don't even do that now. I'm more of a "take what comes to me and let the past be what it is" kind of person. But I have to suffer the consequences that it entails too. And like most "consequences", they simply aren't pleasant.
Thus I sandsurf my way through life, letting things I should grasp hold of slip through my fingers. I can stoically accept the loneliness and regret that comes with it, but that doesn't make it any less painful. Such is the eternal circle. But that's another discussion...
On a final note, another "loss" is that of my calculator watch. Late the week before spring break, my poor, faithful little watch's battery died. Since December of 2000 or 2001, it has provided me with the time, math, and nerdiness I eeded. I would hardly ever "wear" it, even before the strap broke, preferring to sling it around on pencils or wrap it around itself. When the strap finally did break, I discovered the much preferrable method of keeping the wristwatch in my pocket and this method has served me well since. I don't believe It's not likely to be revived. It will be sorely missed.
And now, your much desired moment of silence. That is, until next time...