//journal.evan

Steady goes it

Sun, 03 Feb 2008 07:50:54 GMT

Things have improved since a week ago. I felt like I would never leave the house, to be quite honest, but the opposite has been true. I've made a few friends, have gone places...

saw pan's labyrinth with a guy named Sam. Fantastic movie.

A little intrusive

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 01:39:47 GMT

I moved out of my mom's house this morning into a house with my high school friend Billy who lives in Orlando. People change, obviously, but I have so far remained blindsided by Billy. I wouldn't consider myself to be a difficult person to get along with, but I feel like I'm intruding on his lifestyle a bit. I like small talk, something he doesn't really enjoy. I don't have any other friends in the area yet, so other than surfing the internet (which is basically all I did in Punta Gorda) I don't have any other options.

Overall, I would describe the way I'm feeling as "awkward." I haven't quite figured out the best way to interact with him yet.

That's only part of it, of course. I already miss my family a little bit, which I guess is probably natural, but that doesn't make me feel less childish. There are also four other people (!) living in this house, something new to me. I've met Ross and Bethanie (Billys' girlfriend) and both of them seem very cool, very earthy. I like that.

I guess my point is that I don't like feeling like I'm intruding on someone's lifestyle, and I do. It hasn't even been 12 hours yet, though. Christ.

Yeah...

Sun, 05 Aug 2007 14:19:22 GMT

I need more LJ friends.

Breaking up is hard to do.

Sun, 22 Jul 2007 15:52:54 GMT

It has been a long time since I was here(again), and it will likely be a long time before I’m here again. Anyone who is reading this is very much used to this dynamic, however, so I know that I’m not hurting anyone’s feelings or sensibilities by saying so up front.

The question on everyone’s mind is perhaps, “What has this Evan fellow been doing with his time?” Then again, it perhaps is also, “What’s for dinner?” Sadly, I can’t answer the second question, but the first I can swing.

Not much goes on in Punta Gorda, FL, but I’m doing my best to make things interesting. My goals right now are to attend college in the spring to major in a writing field but also to remain happy as a single individual. Anyone who has been speaking with me frequently (it certainly isn’t most of you) knows that I have recently ended a six-month relationship (by my own choice) for a few reasons, but mostly so that I can try to remain content without a companion to cover up certain aspects of being single I didn’t like.

I won’t say much more on this subject here, but I will say this: Mike was good to me for the most part, but lacked intelligence, conversational skill, and experience. He also tried his absolute best to suppress who he really was in favor of a person he thought was stronger, “cooler” (for lack of better phraseology), and more efficient, but ended up coming off more as someone who wanted to cover up who he really was. There was nothing inherently wrong with Mike. There was, however, something wrong with whom he wanted to be, and I didn’t want to date that person. Also, he’s a furry who role-plays as a pony on the internet and who cheated on me at least once and likely thought about it many more times. He also called me “fat.”

Yeah.

I’m enjoying being single again. I like the idea that I’m free to find someone that makes me happy. I won’t be dating closeted individuals again, as that caused a few problems with Mike and his family that I won’t go into. I won’t be dating people with a lack responsibility, or people who offer me the world. I want the person I date to have obligations other than me and family we can trust. I would like to meet their family as their boyfriend and not as a friend.

I enjoyed writing all of that. I think I’ll come back soon.

024: Mike n' Ike

Wed, 02 May 2007 20:40:36 GMT

Life been shaky in my neck of the woods, but not without its redeeming qualities. Loan payments are scheduled to begin soon, and I can't really afford them yet; I'm 21 and still live at home with Mom, which wouldn't be so bad except I feel like a bit of a loser; I was recently told that my friends in college have a ball making fun of me from time to time, which is a bit more annoying to me than it should be.

I work now (I didn't for a while). I'm still depressed but I'm getting along without medication for now (I can't afford it). I'm still kind of paranoid, socially (I can't really be in a room with strangers without alcohol in my system). I've got problems, and there's no doubt about it.

None of these things are going to kill me. I'm still alive, I'm still kicking. I have a boyfriend, named Mike, and he's great (a bit emotionally dry sometimes, but I've come to terms with the fact that I tend to be attracted to those types). He's sweet, he cares about me, we enjoy each others' company, and we make each other laugh (even though we're not very funny, either of us). It's a simple relationship. Neither of us have much, and neither of us want much. Eventually, we'd like to move into an apartment together, but life is complicated and that goal is temporarily on hold.

Just a small update with what's up. Later, dudes.

028: Drink yourself in words unspoken

Sun, 30 Jul 2006 22:51:04 GMT

Only you can let it in

027: Think I need to clean up?

Tue, 27 Sep 2005 13:15:08 GMT

My room mate:

"This morning, I got the most overwealming sense of college life possible when I woke up and saw the box of overturned doughnuts on the ground. I think it was when I turned around and saw the box of pizza on top of your computer that I finally decided that a little spring cleaning was in order. Here's your broom. Go."

026: lol

Tue, 20 Sep 2005 22:04:33 GMT

Taken from Emma's Xanga:

President Bush was asked today for his position regarding Roe versus Wade.

His response: "I don't care how people get out of New Orleans."

025: There is an exception to every rule, I guess.

Tue, 20 Sep 2005 18:28:06 GMT

Congratulations to the author of http://emosong.ytmnd.com/ who has successfully created the only YTMND that doesn't suck. This is fucking hysterical, but you'll have to open it in IE.

It's sad, because it's true. Hey, entire population of New York: this is for you.

024: When the Going Gets Tough...

Mon, 19 Sep 2005 22:31:01 GMT

The University of Miami's Crisis Decision Team met this morning at 8:00 a.m. to discuss the University's emergency preperations for the oncoming strorm, Tropical Storm Rita. What the University doesn't want you to know (and what they won't tell you) is that the CDT is actually no more than some guy sitting in front of a computer watching the weather channel. I mean, come on—it doesn't take a team of trained experts to see that the weather conditions aren't suitable for normal classes.

As a result of this meeting, an announcement was made at around 11:45 this morning cancelling any and all classes and campus activity after noon today and through Tuesday. So, my question for the single guy posing as a team of trained individuals is this: Why the fuck did you wait until noon today? Look at the fucking pictures. There is a storm. It's coming. Even if it doesn't hit us dead on, we're going to get weather conditions suitable for a storm. It doesn't make sense to make us think that school will run as normal and then cancel classes in an e-mail announcement fifteen fucking minutes before school actually closes.

Look, I realize that controlling rumors and insanity is difficult for the UM staff. After all, we boast a 12:1 student:teacher ratio, $40,000 a year in tuition, and most importantly, a CRISIS DECISION TEAM.™ So, of course it would make sense that fifteen minutes before classes are cancelled, we get an e-mail telling us such. Also, it makes a ton of sense that a ton of things have to stop working or cease functionality at 6:00 that night. Things that aren't functioning normally on campus include:

- Mostt soda machines don't work
- The ice cream machine in the cafeteria was shut down. wtf?
- Tightened security -- you must have your cane card to get into basically any door
- The convenience store, student union, and post office have shut down.
- The ice cream machine in the cafeteria was shut down. wtf?

Look, I know it may seem like I'm being a bit childish, but come on, guys: I pay forty grand a year to attend this shithole, and for that, I'd like a decent amount of notice prior to cancelling classes in addition to stupid things like fucking soda machines working. Not only do I not understand why classes were not cancelled as of yesterday, I don't see the correllation between Rita and the lack of soft serve and use of styrofoam plates in the cafeteria.

In the end, it proves one thing: At UM, when the going gets tough, the ice cream gets going.

023: Ow

Sun, 18 Sep 2005 04:36:13 GMT

I guess it had to happen eventually. Inevitably, I would cave to the unceasing cesspool known only as peer pressure. At some point, I have to do it, that is give people what they want: an update.

Lately, things have been half-and-half in a way. I guess that you could say my life has been a manifestation of an ambiguous answer to the age-old question: "Is the glass half-empty, or half-full?" In my case, it did just what it usually does at the beginning of a semester—weaves between the two, and eventually settles in on an inevitability—the glass is empty, most of the time, as if it's a glass on the table at a Denny's Restaraunt.

The fortunate news, this time, is that it's not academics that are my primary problem. School is going well; dare I say it, it's going great. My teachers are nice, my classes are fun, and overall I am balancing school well. I especially love my music composition class. We talk about a lot of things that make music important to me, as opposed to my theory classes which tend to bore the everloving shit out of me.

No, my academics are fine. The problem is that my biological clock is ticking; well, I guess it is. I'm not really sure what to call the feeling I've been having lately. Up until now, I've been content with solitude. I suppose that comes from the depressed state I was in; I never wanted to be with anyone, instead choosing to remain alone in my room in the dark staring at the celing.

My medication, my antidepressants, have caused a few notable changes in my personality that my friends are making incredibly apparent to me every time they notice them. For instance, John has made it abundantly clear to me that he disapproves of my new-found confidence and argumentativeness; he says that I tend to be less agreeable now than I used to be, but I think it's just that I'm not afraid to stand up for myself anymore. Dominick says that in a way, he misses the old me as well; what have I done?

The friends that I used to have, have to varying degrees, abandoned me: the one that I know would stand by me to the bitter end is living in California with her father in an attempt to help her family's business. Lyle's always busy, Dominick annoys the fuck out of me sometimes, and John is... well, John is John. I am often afraid to call Michaela, since I don't know her as well as I wish I did and fear that she doesn't like me. So, now we're back to square one. The things that used to keep me going, that is, my friends, are now for varying reasons either unavailable or, in one sense, "gone;" so now, with all of the free time I have now, I've begun to do what I usually do. I think too much.

"So," you may be asking at this point, "what self-loathing idiosyncratic, pity-garnering, bullshit are you going to shove down our throats now, Evan?" The answer is pretty easy; I'm not. I want to make it pretty clear to everyone that reads my journal and talks to me that when I complain about things, it's to get them off my chest, not to ask for pity. In that sense, you could say that my reasoning for not updating anymore is pretty simple: my journal has become a forum for regret and hate. It has become a refuge for pity and malice; and more importantly, it has become a way for people to make fun of what I have to say—to accuse me of trying to get pity, or to accuse me of being depressed to get attention. I don't want any of that.

At this point, I guess that it's true: I think too much. I ask too many questions. I try too hard to understand things and as a result overshoot them, digging too deep into the surface, which sadly enough, is all our world seems to have: a surface. Anyone who asks any more questions than deemed socially necessary is mellodramatic or over-analytical, or some such nonsense. My problem with life right now is that I have inherent social flaws that make me difficult to get along with, and since my friends have begun to desert me (or vice-versa), it is become more and more difficult to seal away the beast that lives within; it has become inherently, no, directly challenging to hide the fact that regardless of what I may say or how I may look to the outside, I really, really want a relationship.

There, I said it. I want someone to love me. I guess that's what it is; my biological clock is ticking. No, I don't want kids. No, I don't want a white suburbian house with a dog, a white fence, or a two-car garage; I just want love. I want real, genuine passion and romance. I want a deep friendship that transcends others, but at the same time, I feel lately that this is impossible.

It's true, though, isn't it? Everyone deals with rejection. My problems are not unique, nor are they a massive detriment in any sense of the word or by any stretch of the imagination. They, are however, my problems. They're there. I feel myself becoming more, and more lonely. I'm nineteen years old. In March, I'll be twenty. I'll be the only twenty year-old man I know that has never had a long-term relationship, and I can't shake the feeling that there has to be a reason for this. What have I done that has turned off everyone I have come to love? John wants me "as a friend," even though qualities he has presented lately have been making me wonder whether or not I want him in any sense. Julian has totally cut off contact with me, which is fine. There are others, but the point stands: I am built to be rejected. I am socially and physically bred from the ground up to be a mole on the face of romantic society. This sudden sharp realization, has again, started me on the road to over-analyzation. My thoughts drift to every minor problem I can find within my psyche. But then I began to look elsewhere and began to realize something both quite obvious and quite simple: I'm not attractive. I'm not muscular. I'm not handsome. Sure, I have a pretty face, but we in society demand more.

I'm not hideous, I guess, but that doesn't help anything. My "type" of guy is a handsome, well-dressed, sensable guy who likes the same things I do and wants to make something out of himself in life. It seems so simple, but I keep finding that it's not. It's hard to find. That's why when Brice introduced himself to me, I considered him to be a godsend. I thought that he was amazingly good-looking, with sense, intelligence, and perhaps most-amazingly, he enjoyed video games. Really, it was a good match. Or so I thought.

After we met once, he started ignoring me—not really ignoring me, but being pretty distant. I enjoyed hanging out with him so much that his apparent indifference was almost painful. As a result, I've given up; I realize that it seems a little crazy given that we met one lousy time, but I'm so sick and tired of rejection that I guess this small incident could easily be considered "the straw that broke the camel's back."

It is through this that I have reached the most logical conclusion possible; I'm unlovable. It's impossible for anyone to ever look at me and see a person they could spend their life with because I have so many annoying qualities that I would, if I were anyone else, never wish myself upon someone in a romantic sense whatsoever.

There you have it; my reverie.

022: lol@republicans

Tue, 26 Jul 2005 08:05:06 GMT

http://abcnews.go.com/US/story?id=96695&page=1

021: The neoPatriot

Tue, 05 Jul 2005 05:15:46 GMT

Thought of the day:

Celebrating Independence Day with fireworks and a barbeque is like putting a "Support our Troops" ribbon magnet on the bumper of your SUV.

020: This is my most offensive post ever.

Tue, 05 Jul 2005 01:14:13 GMT

I'm serious. If someone speaking against Christianity offends you, or you are OTHERWISE easily offended, don't click the link below because I'm not interested in arguing any of these points with you. This is simply intended to be humorous for those of us that agree with the things on this list. Again, if you think I'm a heretic or disagree with this list, I don't give a flying fuck so don't bother telling me.

I found this on the internet somewhere.

Top Ten Signs You're a Fundimentalist Christian

10 - You vigorously deny the existence of thousands of gods claimed by other religions, but feel outraged when someone denies the existence of yours.

9 - You feel insulted and "dehumanized" when scientists say that people evolved from other life forms, but you have no problem with the Biblical claim that we were created from dirt.

8 - You laugh at polytheists, but you have no problem believing in a Triune God.

7 - Your face turns purple when you hear of the "atrocities" attributed to Allah, but you don't even flinch when hearing about how God/Jehovah slaughtered all the babies of Egypt in "Exodus" and ordered the elimination of entire ethnic groups in "Joshua" including women, children, and trees!

6 - You laugh at Hindu beliefs that deify humans, and Greek claims about gods sleeping with women, but you have no problem believing that the Holy Spirit impregnated Mary, who then gave birth to a man-god who got killed, came back to life and then ascended into the sky.

5 - You are willing to spend your life looking for little loopholes in the scientifically established age of Earth (few billion years), but you find nothing wrong with believing dates recorded by Bronze Age tribesmen sitting in their tents and guessing that Earth is a few generations old.

4 - You believe that the entire population of this planet with the exception of those who share your beliefs -- though excluding those in all rival sects - will spend Eternity in an infinite Hell of Suffering. And yet consider your religion the most "tolerant" and "loving."

3 - While modern science, history, geology, biology, and physics have failed to convince you otherwise, some idiot rolling around on the floor speaking in "tongues" may be all the evidence you need to "prove" Christianity.

2 - You define 0.01% as a "high success rate" when it comes to answered prayers. You consider that to be evidence that prayer works. And you think that the remaining 99.99% FAILURE was simply the will of God.

1 - You actually know a lot less than many atheists and agnostics do about the Bible, Christianity, and church history - but still call yourself a Christian.

I laughed; I cried; but mostly, I laughed.

By the way, I'm not responsible for spelling errors in this since I simply copy-and-pasted it into this box. Please shut up about them.

019: Back to School

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 05:21:41 GMT

It looks as though I may actually be going back to UM next semester.

Except I'll be Christyless. Last semester I was Michaelaless and this semester Michaela will come back and Christy will be gone until January.

It's kinda like that episode of the Space Cases where Catlina is in a ship that blows up and in order to save her, her invisible best friend (who actually lives in another dimension) named Suzee pulls her out of Catalina's dimension and into hers, thereby taking her place and saving her life and causing a plothole so large that I can't even begin to know how they didn't realize it and Suzee replaces Catalina for the entire next season.

Yeah.

018: Some time off -- sort of.

Tue, 28 Jun 2005 21:34:39 GMT

With forecasters predicting a more turbulant hurricane season this year than ever before (including last year's Grand Slam of Florida's costs), I've begun to look at Hurricane Vacation Options.

Fifteen named storms are supposed to surface this year -- that's just crazy.

Anyone have any suggestions on good places to Hurrication?

017: You want to disappear that badly? Fine.

Mon, 27 Jun 2005 02:40:04 GMT

Fine. I'll let you. You know who you are -- and I wouldn't be posting this here, except I know it's the only way this message will get through. And by the way, if you're so into getting away from me, why the hell are you reading this?

Just go away.

016: Great Blonde Joke

Fri, 17 Jun 2005 08:36:57 GMT

I'm not really a blonde joke person, but this is a really good one.

016: I'm not fucking giving up!

Thu, 16 Jun 2005 20:45:06 GMT

This year blew.

You know it, I know it. But I have to get over it. My future is at UM. I don't feel right sitting here because I messed up one year. I can go back, I can succeed, and I will do it.

But, I need to know how.

I'm going to switch majors, take another loan for the next semester, and go in with my fists swinging and I tell you, I am not going to fail this time.

Mark my words, this is not over!

015: Do Not Call

Thu, 16 Jun 2005 18:40:37 GMT

Please do not call my cell phone, as I will not be answering for a while!

Thanks!

014: Damned

Sun, 05 Jun 2005 02:02:27 GMT

The foundation on which I exist has been cracking for quite some time, now. My college life began to fall apart halfway through my second semester, hell, maybe it was before that. I was mentally unstable, I still am. My support system was limited to a few friends who I felt, no, knew, merely pretended to enjoy my company -- most of them have recently told me this, the ones who did not, now ignore me.

For some reason, I felt alone, so ridiculously alone. How cliché, right? The boy who wants attention, clinging to his self-pity and "feeling of solitude" in order to get attention from his peers — all so cliché, all so "normal," so much so that my so-called friends chose to ignore it, and maybe they didn't know what it, and maybe I'm just passing the blame, and maybe I am just a failure. That's right, a failure. And for the record, I don't want your damn sympathy, I just want to write, to get it off my chest, and to finally be at peace.

For those of you who thought there was something wrong, and for those of you who damanded the truth from me, here it is. The whole truth, nothing but the fucking truth, and I hope you enjoy reading it, and I hope you get some kind of sick joy from knowing your problems are lesser than someone elses', and I would, because that's just the sick person I am, the worthless, sick, sad person I have come to be.

At the end of the Fall semester I met this guy named Jason -- frankly, he was perfect at first. They always are, right? You hear stories like this constantly, you hear people talking about how it was so great at first and that there were sparks and magic and faeries and all of that shit that these people that must have been on LSD make up when they're talking about their perfect match. Jason was — is — gorgeous. I'll spare you the details, but know that I found him incredibly attractive and he let me know the first time he saw me that he felt the same way, and I thought we had a lot in common. He was hilarious, and just an all-around nice guy, and he talked to me, well, a ton.

That is until we had sex. At that point, I was disposable — hung out to dry like the evening wash. There are a lot of boring details in between, but he told me he thought of me as a friend (a friend he says things like "I love you" to, right?) that he likes to ahve sex with and nothing more, and I told him to fuck off, and never saw him again -- that was Valentine's Day.

At that point, things began to go down hill, fast. I stopped caring about things. I stayed up all hours of the night, I cried at random, I slept, but only when I was just exhausted to the point where if I did not sleep, I couldn't realistically function. I called friends at 7 in the morning out of boredom claiming that I had just woke up, but in reality I had not yet been to sleep. The thing of it is, none of this was about Jason, or so I thought, and I really still think this. I felt used, I felt disgusting, but I was over him -- I just kept existing, not really going anywhere -- including to class -- and then collapsing every morning at 6 am.

Eventually I started to get back to normal. Julian came to visit me, professed his love to me, slept with me, and then left and had sex in Tampa with some other kid two nights later. I was pissed, so pissed, so angry, that it started again. He apologized to me, but it was not enough, it was never enough.

So. Great track record. Used, twice in two months. I felt... awful, horrible. I still do. I wanted to die. Something was wrong, and still is. These feelings weren't new to me, I've had them for quite a long time. But now, with this new element of desperation, they were taking me over. I tried to go to class, I tried to start catching up again, but I couldn't -- I'd waited too long, the professors weren't sympathetic to my true (albeit melodramatic-sounding) story and sent me on my way, not caring if I passed or failed. The TAs in the music department never liked me anyway. I did not know what to do -- so, I did what any self-respecting red-blooded American youth would have done in the face of impossible adversity: I gave up.

But, I had one friend left. One real friend, who honestly genuinely cared about what happened to me. I fell for him. Hard. That's a previous entry a lot of you have read, and I'm not going to reiterate it here.

But, that was the end. I was done. Finished. I stopped caring, trying. I stopped living. I existed, but time went by so fast. I cried for several hours sometimes every day. I started eating too much and stopped doing the things that mattered to me. Music, I no longer cared about. I couldn't even finish a god-damned video game. I was, and am, truly depressed, and no one wanted to help me. My academic advisor sought me out and recommended that I enter psychiatric care, so I saw a preliminary counselor before beginning this. He didn't take me very seriously. Told me I didn't have much to worry about and that I had a lot of resources I wasn't using and sent me on my god damn marry way. He told me I had friends that were willing to help and listen and that people fall in and out of love all the time.

He didn't understand that these incidents were catalysts for bigger problems -- I had been laughed at, told to go home, and that's exactly what I did. The semester was over, but I tried to get help anyway, one last time. And then my friends began to desert me. Julian demanded a letter from me, sacrificing our four/five-year friendship because I didn't send the letter I'd written. When I told him I didn't want to respond to a threat, I was telling the truth -- what a moron I was, but it's over now, and there's no turning back. He, and John, and Christy, and Lyle -- I'll never see any of them again.

All I've ever wanted is to be happy, and I can't be! I'm depressed, I cause the people around me to be depressed, and I cause my family concern without giving them a reason. I have failed my classes in school and now I can't go back because I can't afford another year there. I owe $19,000 in outstanding loans, and now I'm going to have to get a job and start paying them back. How am I supposed to start paying loans back with a part-time job living at home? We sold my car to Alex before I came to school here and I have no way of getting back and forth to it, and what's more, I'm hiding my grades from my mother so she doesn't find out! I'm a wreck, a fucking wreck, and I don't know what to do, and I want to die, and I don't have the fucking courage to actually kill myself so I continue to leach off of hard-working people who are DOING things with their lives instead of sitting around being a lazy, fucked-up faggot with no friends to turn to and no real place to go, and by everything, I want a damn place to go that isn't here with my mother.

And in case you missed it:

This was my official cry for help.

013: Also, today is Friday the 13th.

Fri, 13 May 2005 17:05:25 GMT

Well, I'm home -- home, sweet ol' boring home. Mom wouldn't stop screaming at me for various things from the second she saw me. She also wasn't very happy when I agreed to pay for lunch but refused to pay for the wine she ordered at Friday's -- sorry, I won't even buy alcohol for myself(yes I know I can't, but I wouldn't), I'm not going to buy it for someone else. I just don't agree with it. I don't care how accepted the drug is, it's still a drug. Anyway, she ended up being so offended that she paid for the whole lunch herself. By now, she's forgotten and I'm $50.00 richer.

Tomorrow I go to Ryan's, which should prove very relaxing. I haven't been to Ryan's house in forever, I miss them a lot. I can't go tomorrow though unless I clean this room which of course is going to be an expedition in itself. There is crap everywhere and I haven't even been here three days.

Oh well, I guess I'd better get crackin' huh?

013: Haha

Wed, 11 May 2005 16:03:11 GMT

Owned.

012: Moving Out and Other Various Bits of Mental Expression

Tue, 10 May 2005 05:38:10 GMT

RT504 -- it's what I said when people would ask me where I lived on campus. This room is defective. The pieces on my bedside storage unit have been broken since day one, my air conditioner is moldy, and the room smells bad. But for nine months, Rosborough Tower Room 504 has been home to me, and in a small way, I'll miss it when it's done.

I'm halfway through packing up my belongings; I am sifting through not only my "stuff," but sifting through the age-old process of realizing that you have too much stuff. I would say that since I got here, I have acquired countless "things." Video games, clothes, odds, ends, bits and pieces: all of these and more have been added to my ever-growing collection of material belongings, and now, they leave with me.

I guess you could say that lately, I have been emotionally numb. "You have a month to send me a letter," Julian said, "or I will never talk to you again." I am going to send him a letter, but somehow, that ultimatum makes me less inclined to care if he talks to me again. I have not received a letter from anyone but Julian in ten years, and you don't see me complaining about it -- but he'll get his letter, if only to prove to him that I care.

Life is quiet at UM now -- the gentle sounds of the wind sifting through the palm leaves now supercede the chatter of students that I have become so accustomed to. Among those who have already left are most of my friends: Christy and John most notably are home, now enjoying their families and homecooked meals and quiet nights foreign to the concepts of studying and bad cafeteria food. Lyle is here, but he is so busy that I long ago discounted ever seeing him again this semester. Dennis and I are no longer speaking, my room mate and I were never great friends to begin with, and Dominick is getting on my nerves. And, so begins the final step of my extraction from college life -- the packing.

There are, simply put, piles of junk everywhere. The room is a mess, showing evidence of a boy who cared not about much other than his own sorrow and depression this semester. I have cried tonight, knowing that not only is my college experience about to potentially end, but that it never truly even began because I was too busy swimming around in my own thick pool of sadness and uncertainty.

Within the next ten hours, this room will show no signs of me ever living here -- my name will be erased from the history books of RT504 -- I will no longer call it home, and it will no longer suffer my terrible messes.

So, I will continue to pack. I have so much stuff left, and my mother will be here in less than ten hours. I don't see how I am ever going to finish, but I don't see how I can do that sitting here telling you guys about it.

Next stop, Punta Gorda, FL.

011: I concede: Kerry-style

Mon, 09 May 2005 08:31:10 GMT

So it's been brought to my attention that the primary reason people don't reply to my posts is that I unfriended everyone.

I did this because it would ruin the layout on my friends page but also because I really have no practical reason to have all my friends listed except to look cool -- when I check LJs I go to their specific page.

However, I guess since it made me look rude, I will start re-friending you all tomorrow morning.