Sunday, August 28, 2005

Matthew.
((((((WRITTEN AUG. 25)))))))
So, seeing as my parents now know about Matt, I suppose I can talk about him in my blogs. Which is a comfort, because it gives me an outlet for all these cooped-up, though wonderful, feelings.

Matthew. He's eighteen, but his birthday was this month. The 13th of August. He graduated highschool a couple years ago; three-year plan. He's smart. Mature. Caring. A total sweetheart. And damn hot.

He is able to comfort me in a nearly frightening way. When I learned of Mendez' passing, everything seemed fake, threatening. The only tie to sanity, to the real world, that I had was Matt. He kept me from breaking completely. And when I saw him this Monday, the day after I heard about Mendez, well...

Before he got to the mall, I spent about 45 minutes on a bench, going from crying to trying not to scream. The moment he got there, the second we hugged, I was perfect. The world was in order. There was no such thing as sorrow.


It's amazing how much the world can change at the presence of a single person. An affectionate touch, that loving smile. It just kinda knocks me over and kicks me in the ribs. The overwhelming force of Matt's general existence is...more than I feel I deserve sometimes. My heart races when our hands clasp. My blood starts blaring through my body, and my senses feel wired. It's genuinely amazing.

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Monday, August 22, 2005

R.I.P 1990-2005 Jessica Mendez
She smiled, she laughed, she jumped up and down, and she laughed some more. Shouting and bouncing, constant happiness was splayed across her face, and it was an infectious disease. When she was happy, most others were too.

I met her in the 6th grade. In Band. We never really talked all that much, but there was this kinda of mutual, unspoken respect for each other. Talent, personality, etc. We knew we'd both click. We had a bunch of mutual friends.

In 7th grade, we talked a bit more, hung out some, but never really became 'friends.'

In the 8th, we talked a bunch, joked around, had a great time. I remember, after telling her I was going to a Yellowcard concert on my birthday, she gave me a double-fisted punch to the stomach. It hurt, but it didn't matter. It was an affection sorta thing.

And this year, 9th grade, it was the same and/or more. Until this weekend. She, for reasons unknown to me, took her own life. Lines like "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" took on some new meanings to me. She was looking for a better life somewhere else. The freedom to be who she wanted to be, how she wanted to be. The hope to find that in some other life. And the pursuit of happiness. In escape of sadness, what else can it be, besides the pursuit of happiness?

I'll honour her. Forever. Jessica Mendez will be dearly missed. Sorrow is present, grief, sadness. It's natural. Those scars will not heal, but they will become tolerable.

Jess will be fondly remembered. She was truly a great girl.
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Thursday, August 11, 2005

Omfg.
I REMEMBERED! OH MY FLIPPIN GOD!

For Biology, I had to bring in a living creature, so I brought a frog. We did an observation lab, and one of the parts of the lab was to introduce sugar water, and then white vinegar, into the creature's container and describe its reactions. My frog ignored the sugar water, and panicked from the vinegar, but it was ok.

Then, towards the end of class, Jenna F. came over to me, and she's like, "What's your frog doing?" And I looked at it and said, "It...stopped...Froggy turned off." 'Cause...it died. I think it drank the vinegar. I was...sad. I am a frog assassin. Meep.

But then again, the frog DID know waaay too much. For reasons of international security, he and his entire regime had to be eliminated.

OMFG I KILLED A FROG! I FEEL SOO BAD.
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Lots-a stuff?
Did you guys like my "schooliosis" bit? I thought it was clever.

Anyways, Chii- I get around, I get around (because Beach Boys quotes are ALWAYS good).

Evil- my grades slip right away too. Sides and angles and graph paper. And such. Just..no. And with 90 minutes of it, with lunch right in the middle. Blegh.

Now. Second day of school ruled. It was just rad. I had a pretty great time. *nods* "Give a counterexample for the statement 'All birds can fly.'" Yep, a question on a geometry worksheet. Counterexample: "Ostriches are flightless birds."

Anyways. I had such a great day.

POEM!!!!!!!
Entitled "Matt."

Unquestionable intelligence is certainly
A most rare trait in this bleak
Seascape, the mass of grey humanity,
And certainly why I love that man.

Mental stimulation
is (and back and forth)
equal (and zip and zap)
To the carnal joy of the flesh.
Body screams with adolescent glee
And is shot, killed, by that bond
Which only in equal minds of equal people
Is present.

We understand each other,
Although I don't understand why.
Who'd'a thought that such great friendship (or whatever one may call it)
Could, by chance, be found.

It's just that fucking zip and zap.





I'm done, even though I have more that I'm pretending that I want to talk about.

Oh! Hey! Guess.
Nope, lost it. Nevermind. I'm done for now.
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Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Schooliosis.
Today, I started my freshman year of highschool. And what a freaking awesome day it was.

First period: English Honors. The teacher-lady is really cool, and the class is going to be great, except for 2nd Quarter. The assigned book for second quarter is Lord of the Flies, which I have already read, and hate. Utterly. First quarter is The Pearl, by Steinbeck.

Second Period: Biology Honors. The teacher is ok, but I really hate biology. Dissection...is so wrong. There is no reason an animal needs to sacrifice its life, especially one-per-person in a class of almost thirty. It's depressing and wrong.

Third Period: Drama. I love the teacher, I've known her forever. The class will be great, I love acting.

Fourth Period: Geometry. It's so scary. Geometry is a tenth grade class. And I'm the ONLY freshman in that period. And it's in the block, which means I have it 90minutes a day. Upside: the class is only half-year. I'm gonna try to switch teachers so I can be with another freshman, 'cause Casey's in the same situation. And there's WAAAY too many people in my class.

Fifth Period: Orientation to Health and Social Services. It's awesome. I want to be a teen/child psychologist/psychiatrist (dunno which), so it's the class for me.

Sixth Period: Spanish 2. Another tenth grade course, but I love it. It rules. I love Spanish.


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Thursday, August 4, 2005

Hrrrmmm
I'm using MySpace as my primary blog. I'll start posting things from there over to here.

___________

So, I think I feel special. Today was all cool-like and stuff.

So, background info. I'm going into my freshman year at highschool. There's this group called Model United Nations (MUN), whose name should explain the group perfectly. I'm gonna be in it. Blah blah blah. Well, anyways, there's this guy named Asher who's gonna be a senior. He's ---really--- smart, funny, cute, and gay.

So today he picked me up and we went to Books-A-Million. We talked mostly about school, MUN, that sorta stuff. The talk itself wasn't too special, but the energy was. I don't know if he's, like, boyfriend potential or whatever, but he's definitely a great friend.

It was actually really, really awesome, however uneventful. It just pretty much felt special to me. *shrug*

I dunno, I probably sound like a dork, but hey, whatever. I had a pretty great time. Asher and I actually had quite a bit in common.


The ever-negative me can always find a downside. It's one of my major faults. And, of course, I find it immediately as I sit down at this computer. While I didn't notice it or mind at the time, I guess I was kinda being talked down to most of the time I was there. I mean, he doesn't know any of what I've done in my past, what I've been through, blahblahblah, so I understand that the natural thing is to pass on experience. I understand that Asher was being helpful, and I appreciate it all. There's just one way to put it- he underestimates me. I mean, he understands my intelligence, that was obvious just from our talking, but still...I guess, like Piper said, it's just the natural treatment of freshmen.

He treated me like I was delicate, too. I really am capable of carrying two 2-litre bottles of soda at once. I may look thin and frail, but I'm definitely strong.

Back to the thing before. My maturity level is high above that of most people my age. I'm able to look at situations from an adult's perspective, to see things as the concerned parent would. I can reason through complex situations, form multi-layer thoughts and compound those with multi-situation cases, blahblahblah. My mind works damn well, but he treated me, a good part of the time, like a typical freshman.


That's not really important, though. That's a thing to fix with time; as we get to know each other, that'll work itself out.

The natural throb of depression that always seems at the back of my mind, waiting to come in on the tides of any random mood swing, it's gone. There's one less emotion in the tumult, now. It feels really good, too. Instead of worrying about when depression will come, I get to look forward to when happiness will come back. Positive emotion now fills two spots instead of half of one.

More later, guys.
_______________________

So, two days have elapsed since my last blog. I've got a story to tell about last (Sunday) night.

I was sitting on my bed, blasting Story of the Year loud enough to deafen a granny; reading Speaker for the Dead by Orson Scott Card.

I was happy. I was in a pretty damn good mood. Then I looked around my room and cried three tears. OOoooh, no big deal, right? That's as many tears as I've shed total since...February. I don't cry. I can't cry. And I shed three tears.

This is fairly monumental to me. I finally figured out what caused it, too. I have this massive lack of affection in my life.

I just lost all will to write. I'll post another blog with the rest of this whenever.
______________________________

Religion and Sexuality- Why the Christian Supremacists Are Wrong


"God hates gays." "Faggots will burn in Hell." Remember those signs? The angry protests? Well, those people aren't Christians. They are hatemongers and bigots. I'm here to tell you exactly why.

"God hates gays." Let's look at that statement from a Christian perspective. Doesn't God love everyone? A lot of Christians seem to think that homosexuality is a sin that's exponentially greater than all the others. But, in God's eyes, aren't all sins equal? The types of Christians that make these statements are usually Bible-thumpers, the types that take every single word of the Bible as concrete. Well, if you're going to think like that, you should at least do it all around the board.

If God hates gays, then he hates murderers, rapists, adulterers, etc., exactly the same. But God DOESN'T, does he? God loves everyone, no matter what, right? So that statement's down the drain. God doesn't hate gays.

"Faggots will burn in Hell." Not more than any other sinner, really. In fact, homosexuals have the exact same chances at penance as everyone else. As long as you pledge faith in Father, Son, and Holy Ghost and all that jazz, you're going to Heaven.

So it pretty much comes out to this: While homosexuality may be a sin in the eyes of God, it's just the same as every other sin. It's no worse than shooting your neighbor. It's no better than molesting your girlfriend's 6-year-old little sister. God apparently works that way, fair or not.

_____________________________

Happiness...today, I kinda dread it.

After hanging out with Asher, I was in a really good mood for the rest of that day. I was honestly, truly, happy. It felt so good, I didn't think that would go away. But of course it did.

Happiness taunts me. It comes for a bit, and I don't think it will ever leave. And then it goes away entirely; having the memory of such positive feelings makes the depression hurt so much worse. It's becomes longing.

I'm lustful. Grossly lustful. Not after sex, or any sort of instant gratification, but for one source of happiness after another. I need the sort of happiness I had after hanging out with Asher. I crave it. But...it's not for me, I guess. Only occasionally. A sip of the antidote to hint at you what -could- be, not what is.

And we're right back to my utter lack of affection. I posted about that earlier. There's none in my life.

*deep sigh* Thanks for reading these, Piper, I know you're the only one who does :)


((And to others- Tiffy-chan, thanks soooooo much for always reading my posts. I appreciate every single one of your comments. They always brighten up my day.

Evil- you're brilliant, hysterical, and just rad, eh?

Tangertine- :) Digimon forever

Whoever else- y'er radical. Three and a quarter thumbs up.)))
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Saturday, July 23, 2005

Grr?
The female half of our species, they really tick me off.

You feminists always complain about equality. You want to be treated the same as we do. Same rights, same paycheck, etc.

Hypocrites. Damn hypocrites. Why? Because you still expect us to pay for the dates, pull out the chairs, open the doors, and all this other trash. How are we gonna be equal if the men are all broke from buying you lunch and purses, propping open the door to the hairdresser (every three weeks, paying out of our own pocket most of the time [that "forgot my purse" excuse gets old]), opening the door to the limousine that you demanded on the six-month anniversary (for which we had to buy an EXTRA $120 meal since we forgot while paying for your manicure, pedicure, deep facial, and spa treatment).

Yeah, you're hypocrites. Get over it. Do something YOURSELVES to make it equal.

*deep breathes*

SOOOOOOOOOO glad I'm gay.

I think I'll rant about the environment soon.

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Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Philosophy
This was on AllPoetry with a dear friend of mine. It's not all of the discussion, but it's the important part. I start the convo, and my friend is second. Big line breaks to make this easy.


(random) I think I believe in fate. The following question stems from this. Why am I gay? What is the cosmic scheme behind that?


What is the cosmic scheme behind my being born Iranian? No one knows why we are what we are... every single thing is put exactly where it's supposed to be, according to fate. Everything that happens is supposed to, even if someone goes back and changes it, that's meant to happen.


I hate the thought that I am typing the words I am now because I am meant to. That really does push me closer to suicide than any depression.


Well, you'd be meant to kill yourself... but really, fate is nothing but choice. I see it as a passive force; God, for example, created the universe, but has no hand in any "sins" we may commit. That's up to karma. Fate is just a manifestation, you know?


I don't believe in sin. We do nothing wrong that we do not believe to be wrong.


Exactly, seme... nothing is a sin unless it clashes with your morals.


Maybe that is irresponsibility? Ahh, no, that's called taking account for your actions...as resposible as humans can be, I suppose.


I guess I just see the universe as a passive force; what God, all powerful, would care so much about this tiny planet and its tinier inhabitants that it would condemn us?


Does that statement imply that the universe is just a big festering mass of stagnant matter?


Oh, no! The universe is dynamic. It's moving toward a goal, a goal of equalization.


And, even though we are moving at a nice Few-Million KMPH, we're not getting there. Bloody brilliant.


Not like that, seme... like a goal of time.
This universe... who knows what it's doing? But it's doing something, and we're part of it.



The scale at which such things work...
Motion of Universe: Untellable speed
Motion of Human Walking: 5mph.
It is a rather significant difference. If you look at all that together, you kinda see something...we don't matter.


We do, seme. To ourselves and each other.
In a universal sense, we don't matter, but we do to each other, and that means something. no matter how small.
You know? what do we have to sustain our fragile lives except appreciation of ourselves?
Loop this back to the beginning, I guess. We have, apparently, sex.


There's more than that. We are in these bodies. We have to live. Or kill ourselves. It doesn't matter globally, but... how would my death affect you?








((At this point, I had to leave because my parents kicked me off the computer))


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Monday, July 4, 2005

   So, um...What's Up With You, Kotaru?
Hm? What? Oh, nothing much really, just kinda chilling as usual. I hope I can see some fireworks tonight, because they are prettyful and sparkly.

I told Lauren last night, "I like fireworks 'cause of the flashies." She told me to go to New Orleans. :)

That smiley for my mood...it's funny. I like it.

Um, well, I suppose that I'll just keep babbling.

I saw DareDevil last night. It was ok, but it was also terrible and I am actually a space alien.

Just kidding.
Not.
No really, I am a space alien and I want to liquify your brain with my Brain-o-Probe Mach 70000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Or something like that, at least. If I WERE REALLY an alien, I would instead say,

"Fark darm maglafalgiruposhtork"

Which loosely translates to, "Help me, I'm an alien and I've had way too much vodka and, being an alien, I am intolerant to it and crashed on your planet. Those crop circles, my friend made them. See, he's drunk too."

I thought I ended that sentence in a preposition, but then my mom and I realised I didn't.

I stabbed a crossword puzzle with a stick named Jorge once.

Guess what! My friends Jill and B are at Ringling School for Art and Design...for three more weeks. It is sad without them, but I still have Lauren and Suzy and Jessica and whatnot. So I will survive.

*breaks out into a rousing chorus of "I'm a Survivor" by (he thinks) Destiny's Child*

*kills himself brutally in the stomach for that*

Have you all seen Salad Fingers? If not...fat-pie.com/salad.htm is the first episode. fat-pie.com/salad2.htm is the second episode. There are five, you can figure the other links out from there.

rathergood.com

^ watch Tales of the Blode. And Scared Boy

Bands I like (updated):
Yellowcard
Evanescence
Tsunami Bomb
Thrice
The Rasmus
AFI
Seether
Story of the Year
(these be my favorite bands!)

Maybe I will leave you alone now. But maybe NOT!

Yep, I'm done babbling for the time being.
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Sunday, July 3, 2005

...
Career Choices That Are NOT For Me:

1) Wedding Planner
2) Family Planning
3) Planned Parenthood
4) Estate Planner
5) Financial Planner

Recognize any trend? I hate making plans. Plans are plastic and fall apart really easily. They always change and should be called something more along the lines of Non-existant.
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