Tuesday, December 16, 2003

Welcome to the Machine.

Today started off rather hectic. But first, let me get into something I need to write down.

Last night as I was upstairs brushing my teeth, my Mom came in and asked me why I cannot say that "I love her" when she says it, and why I cannot hug her. I didn't feel like talking about it then--and I guess I never want to.

My entire relationship with my parents has never been "close." It seems that their parents and them may have had close relationships, but it is not like that for me. It's always been that I deal with what I deal with mostly on my own, and they simply yell at me to do things when I don't do them--such as getting a job, cleaning my room, sweeping the walks, cleaning the house, and so on.

I am not an affectionate person on the outside. I don't just fall to my knees because of my emotions and just hug and kiss and tell everything I love them or hate them. I keep it all inside--I keep it quiet. No one cares anyways. As far as I see it, I don't matter just as much as everyone else on this world doesn't matter. Why should I encumber them with my problems? Why should I be taciturn when I can be quiet?

The only place where I tell people how I feel is online. Otherwise, if my Mom asks me if I'm depressed--which she has done once recently--I simply put it off. My parents have their own problems to deal with. My Mom is going to college at the age of thirty-seven, she has a sore leg that hurts her all the time from past injuries, she smokes, she is withdrawn and quiet as me sometimes, she takes large amounts of pills to sleep, numb her depression, and all-in-all, try to make her a better, more functioning person.

All these things are far more important than me. So I do not understand why she expects me to just open up to her, tell her what plagues me. Because I'm not going to.

Why can't I tell her that I love her? I do not know. I do love her in the sense that she is my mother, that when she was younger and she divorced my real father, she took me in while working at a beauty salon and managed to keep things going and meat on the table. I love her for giving birth to me, and straining and living with the pain of me as I was in her womb, growing, being a parasite that fed from her body and drained her. I love her for just being there. But I don't love her in some affectionate way. I'm not an emotional person when I'm around other people--I just keep my straight face, and I keep doing what I'm doing.

I don't think it's exactly right to place your problems on other people. But the internet is different in this accord, at least. I can talk to people about what is bothering me--but I still feel that I'm more of a nuisance than anything. I probably only make people let down and less happy by talking to them when I'm in some bitter mood.

Because I know this happens to me when I talk to someone and they are telling me all the things wrong. Lately, when I have talked to Shy, this is the exact thing that has happened--I have gotten depressed because Josh is depressed because I want him to be happy. And in essence, this is what it's like for my Mom.

Yet I'm stoic. I don't show feelings except for, it seems, on the internet. I don't hug my parents. I don't tell them I'm thankful for them. I don't tell myself I'm thankful for being alive. Because, in reality, I'm not too thankful for much, although I try to tell myself I am. I am only thankful for things which I myself am. I am thankful that there is writing and that I am good at it, I am thankful for all selfish reasons. And this is the true of it all--and I don't see why I should act otherwise.

I just do not like showing my feelings to other people that I don't see understand what I am feeling, as well as to people I've never really shown too much emotion to. This is the way it is with my parents. I do not like feeling emotion when I don't want to, I don't like trying to melodramatize things anymore. And that's what it feels like when my Mom sits here sometimes when she comes home late after drinking, telling me I hate her and that I can't even hug her.

She did give birth to me. But I don't have a bond any longer with her really. I am simply here because I am, and live with my parents until inevitably I shall move away, until inevitably they shall die, until inevitably I shall die. This is the reality of things.

I do not work well with other's emotions. I do not like to tell them how I feel unless I feel comfortable around them. I do not tell people I love them unless I really love them. Yes--I know that the love I am talking of isn't the love that my Mom seeks from me. But we do not have this loving bond. I don't even know my Mom. I don't understand her. She has never been too close to me, and I've never been too close to her--at least as far as saying as I've grown.

When she asks me to hug her and tell her I love her, as she is seemingly intoxicated, I can't. I'm not emotional like that. I don't know. I just don't understand myself why I can't say.

And what do I do when she asks me to tell her what is wrong--I push her away. My whole life I've learned to deal with things myself. I've come to the thought that people should keep their problems to themselves, because everyone has problems.

On the internet I'm not like this at times--but I try not to be too annoying, which I still feel like I am annoying. I'm usually just quiet about the real things that bother me. I just touch on the small things.

Usually I tell Tony at this point--but there was that night with Josh where I basically just said the main things in a nutshell. Usually I'm just quiet--especially if it is still day. At night I'm a little more open, because when you're tired, you just don't care what you say, because you're too tired to know.

So at this point, anyway, as I was brushing my teeth, I just said, "mmmmm," and such things under my breath until my Mom finally gave up. Then I went downstairs onto the internet, and I was soon kicked off because my Mom came down and screamed to my Dad that I was on the internet and needed to get off.

So I restarted my computer, crawled into bed, and put on my headphones. I wanted then to just go to my Mom and say that no, I didn't love her, or something to this extent. I was just being angry because I was taken off the internet, but that feeling soon went away anyway. And I drifted off to a nice, long sleep.

My alarm went off at 7. I shut it off. It went off again around 7:50ish. I shut it off.

I woke up about 8:30, late for school and hectic. In a haze, I put on my jeans, some random shirt, ran out to my car, and was off as fast as I could be, with no shower, no deodorant, nothing, just my clothes. This is the second time I've been late for first period. Luckily, I don't think it's enough to lose my final test exemption.

I then arrived in history, and we were writing this letters for our assignment that is due Thursday. The basis of the assignment is to show what life was like in the 1920's by choosing some specific thing to speak about into a diary entry of a false person.

I decided to do The Scopes Trial. The Scopes trial was with existentialists. Those are the people who think the bible should be taken literally, and thought that people accepting the evoltutionist theory, as well as other scientific theories, were degrading and demeaning religion.

Existentialists are stupid. It's obvious that the bible shouldn't be taken literally--if you take it literally it's almost silly, and quite sad. The bible is meant to be interpreted however you want it to be. It shouldn't be taken literally. And I also don't see what is the deal with the bible. It was only written by the apostles of Christ and his followers--it is people speaking from the God they think they hear--it isn't the "actual" word of God. So for anyone that takes it to the point where it's God's word, well, it isn't, in truth. Yes, it is to an extent, but it isn't truly his words. It's the words of us humans. Not him.

So the basis of this letter is I'm basically going to have my created character say that Existentialism is foolish, and that he doesn't believe in God, nor does he not believe in God, and say that The Scopes Trial is a joke, and so on. Should be good. I get to read it in front of the class, too. Hopefully I can blow some brains.

Needless to say, I was about 20-30 minutes late to that first period, and was pretty tired, but I got most of the letter done. Then it was off to English, which I was, for once, happy to go to. All this year we've covered things I mostly don't even care about. While the other classes--that aren't AP--are now learning about poetry, and were just learning about Poe, we've been learning about Transcendentalism, reading Huck Finn, watching a few movies here and there--Dead Poets' Society, Amistad, and so on. The movie watching is fine, but the other stuff we've covered so far I've found boring, mostly. It's nothing that I care for too much. Huck Finn was a decently interesting book, with humor here and there, but it isn't too amazing in this day and age. The reason why it was amazing is because it was released during the time that slavery was in its fulcrum here in the US, so it's amazing that what that book says was out there in the US at that time.

Today was more stuff on Realism and Naturalism. We did a little thing where we moved the desks to the side of the class, and were asked things, and had to choose if we agreed with it or disagreed.

There were religious questions--questions of abortion--questions of life's reason--all sorts of things; and throughout it all, I was mostly on the side that agreed.

When she asked, "I believe in the saying that life is a bitch, then you die," I was agreeing. When she asked, "I believe the bible is not the word of God," I was agreeing. When she said that, "I believe abortions are okay," I was agreeing. When she said, "Most of my thoughts are of food and sex," I was the only person agreeing, and I laughed. When she said, "I believe in guardian angels," I was closely in the area which was agreeing, and I looked over and saw all the brainwashed little zealots in their corner, and I said, "Look at all those people that are brainwashed."

When she said that, "I believe that when you die there is nothing," I was agreeing. I agreed almost the entire time, and when it was all over, she said that those who had stayed agreeing most of the time were naturalists more likely, and those that went back and forth a few times, but mostly ended up agreeing were realists. And she also said that those that stayed over in the disagree place, those were Idealists.

It's funny how naive people seem to be. When we drew on our blank sheets of paper what we thought life was, so many people drew family, friends, and most of all, religion and God. It's just naive to me. The world is so much more colder than that, life is so much more cold than that. And this, I think, is the reality.

After this we just read over some notes on Realism and Naturalism, and the class ended.

Journalism was the same old same old today. I didn't do anything, really. I just sat there on the internet doing nothing. As well as I printed out versions of my new, more lacklust column. [Lacklust. Heh. That word rocks now.]

Lunch was 3 chicken strips, a little bit of a baked potato, a breadstick, and some milk. Talked to my friends Ryan and Adam as usual, The chicken strips we had at lunch blew. They were these little mushes of flesh, that were very grandiose and lacking any form of chicken stripdom. Those chicken strips were seriously loser chicken strips. They tasted like rubber cement. The milk was good though. I love milk. Milk rocks. Everyone should drink milk--that stuff is great. It goes down your throat so well, and it just tastes so cold and nice.

After lunch is Geometry. Not a good class, to say the least. The teacher's been gone the two days this week so far, so it's been pretty lame. We sit there and get assigned an insane amount of work to do that isn't as big as it seems--since we have all period to do it. There's this thing that always happens to me when I am forced to do school work in school--I don't get it done. I just don't focus. I just can't. I can think of everything but what it is I should be doing at that oppurtune moment in time.

I did manage to get my worksheet mostly done, since that's what is graded. But I slopped up on the proofs--I hate proofs with a passionate burning that shall implode upon Geometry's face like a comet cometually cometing into the Earth.

I ended up not doing the book assignment portion of it--didn't want to at all. So I then proceeded to get out my Clan of the Cave Bear book I've been reading lately, which is a novel by Jean M. Auel. I've read it before, but the book is seriously good.

When I pulled it out, the girl I sit in back of, Shannon, started laughing. She then explained that her friend had said those books are really descriptive. Another student in the class, named Allan, who is cool, said what, exactly, was so descriptive? I went to say sex. And then they just stared at me like I had said some word that was the worst word to say, as well as the most pervasive and lustful. Okay, so not to that extent, but I'd like to think so, anyway, just so I can look like pervert as well as a pervasiveist and a romancer and an outspoken moron.

After Geometry is Computer Programming. This class rocks now, because we're finally doing HTML. Not much went on here--I just did the HTML lessons in the book, learning about the learner that is HTML.

After Computer Programming is Gym. I've already mentioned the dancing, but it isn't so bad. It's just useless to me. We did some new dances today, as well as a line dance for once Enough about that, anyway.

7th period was Latin. The teacher was gone in this class too. So we were assigned our work, and go to work on it. Again, I could not force myself to work on it. I sat there and got maybe half of it done, but then stopped, too uncaring to go on.

As I did this, this girl in the class whose name is Mclauryn asked questions about words, and other things. She asked something like, "Who are Marcus and Cornelia," and I said they were "hot passionate lovers." Then later on Mclauryn said, quite low, "I'm horny," when talking to Michael, who is a cool kid that now sits next to me in Latin.

At the end of class, Mclauryn came and sat on my desk, tickling my chest and other things. I couldn't really do anything, other than act like I was fine and not feeling anything. It was pretty funny, though. Michael kept saying, "Mitch, you should really feel special for having Mclauryn on your desk like that." And I actually was, but I am too shy to do much else than just sit there acitng like a moron. So I acted like I was trying to overpower Michael and move his desk over, but never succeeded because I am a physical weakling, at least arms-wise.

Mclauryn's done other things like this in the past. Just not to this extent, anyway. She's asked me to rub her back, she's touched my stomache a few other times, she's hugged me a few times. I don't know if it's just that she is feeling "horny," as she mentioned to Michael all low, or if she is actually attracted to me. Whatever the case, she's a cool girl, although I'm not sure the "right" one for me. I mean, it's certainly endearing that she's sexually aggressive, but I don't know. I'm too shy to even know as it is. But it's nice to feel special in some ways like that anyways.

When I got home I sat around and ate some frosted mini-wheats, then went online for a while. I then decided to take a little nap, and so I did. The nap was nice. My dog britty-sue, she came in bed with me and licked me, and I cuddled in all warm as she did too. It's just nice to have some other presence as you sleep, especially a dog. Dogs are awesome.

After sleeping, I awoke. Before this my Mom had came down and asked what was wrong. Nothing much was, actually. I was just relaxing. Thinking about things.

After taking that nap, I went online again for a while, then I proceeded to go and eat once our food came. We ordered pizza from Domino's. It was thin crust. I ate a whole large one of those, and had two large glasses of milk.

I'm still not full. If you've kept track of what I've eaten from this post--it actually isn't that much for someone of my age. Or so I think, anyway.

After eating and drinking that, I took an oatmeal creme pie cookie--those things rock--as well as a diet coke, caffeine free (bleh). And I ate those too. And I'm still not full, completely. I feel thirsty right now.

Then I wrote some of my english oaper that is due Thursday. It's this big paper contrasting things. I got over half of it done.

And that's about all.
Comments (2)