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Sunday, February 10th, 2002

Subject: Meanwhile... Time: 5:18 pm. Mood: Retarded =P. Music: Beatles - Yesterday.

The Grammar Test Your Score: 78% Not too bad at all. My grammar skills are definitely above average. But, as they say, there's always room for improvement! Test yourself at geekykid.net Were you a gifted child? Your Score: 68% Test yourself at geekykid.net 1.) Over the years my brain has degenerated into a data bank of trivial Diablo blurbs. Case and point, I can't remember anything. I was probably more gifted as a kid then I am now =P. 2.) 78% grammar score, amusing. PeaceTalk? And remember, refreshing and correcting your answering is NOT allowed. ^_^;. I'm still trying to gather my thoughts from a few days ago, along with everything that's happened since. I'll see what I can do about that.

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Subject: If I was an egg, I'd be SCRAMBLED. Time: 1:34 pm. Mood: curious. Music: U2 - So Cruel.

Writer’s block is a horrible thing. I have a 3-page entry at the tip of my tongue, yet I can’t lend a single word of confidence to its written process. Yesterday was one of the better days in a long time, I should be overflowing with a sense of inspiration and desire to get it all down, but rather I’m here, puzzled, overwhelmed and completely dumbfounded. This is unlike me. Perhaps it was yesterday’s 2-hour lecture on the perception of life, logic and intelligence that skewered my morning brain today, I don’t know, but surely a game of Diablo 2 is in order.

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Subject: Generic Saturday's Time: 8:32 pm. Mood: depressed. Music: Led Zepplin - Stairway to Heaven.

Same old weekend night here today, same as always. I'm going out for a bit, maybe grab something to eat. If AIM were a bar, I'd be a happy man. But it isn't. Lifeless geek is me =P

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Time: 11:14 pm. Mood: tired.

I spent today much like the last, with company. I went out again and had a pretty good time. Generic gathering at best but still, it was a decent way to shake the cobwebs of one's mind. I walked Andre home again but this time I was focal in the conversation. Why was I so stressed? Why did I seem so completely wrung? I let loose. I'm not sure if what he suggested/told me was the prettiest of comforters, but it stuck to my guts long after everything was said and done. He handled my case with little tact or personal flair; he simply discredited my own problems in favor of the argument. He went as far as to say that I was a weaker person because I let these things get to me and that I should just get up and fix things for myself. It's not that easy, unfortunately. It's not like I want to be depressed. If the solution were as cut and dry as just “fixing things” I would have corrected matters a long time ago. I needed a different perspective and I got just that, but I don't think he understood my situation entirely when he offered his own slice of logic. This is the type of person that he is. He condescends, preaches, and strokes his bloated ego whenever possible. Sometimes I rather enjoy the comedy of this shearing blindness, sometimes the ideas driving his saturated speeches of all knowing truth are meaningful, and other times his voice just stabs me right in the stomach when all I really need is a comforting Band-Aid. Still, I didn't mind the walk and I certainly didn't mind the company. I needed something to keep my mind off the train wreck that is my future and I more or less got that. Looks like this second semester is fucked too. They told me to come back in January, then this week, then today to sort out my classes (I knew the answer before it was offered). Looks like they don't have a seat for me. Thanks for dicking me around. With this out of the way I have to really decide what I want to do with the rest of my life. It's just hard for me right now, with the way I've been feeling. Slowly, I'll figure things out. Sorry for not being much help to you guys. Josh, I haven’t been able to respond to your entry and I’m really sorry. I’ll message you on AIM if circumstances permit :/. Dan, I just saw your entries but I’m incredibly tired right now. In the morning… in the morning. I hope good things turn up for the both of you. *hugs*

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Subject: "Social skillz" exercise Time: 2:09 am. Mood: mellow.

Today was slightly different then the usual. Got a call from two of my once good friends; they wanted me to pass by and hang with them. This took me by surprise because I hadn’t talked with them in over a month. I made it fairly clear during our last crossover that I was wholly displeased with the way our friendships had developed over the years, and that I didn’t want to be treated like a cheap article anymore. Contrary to what I had in mind, I decided to take them up on the offer, and you know I had a pretty good time. We watched a movie, ordered some take out (took us an hour or two to get the orders going because of *insert numerous stale phone gags* =P), played some games and shared humor as we always use to. It was a fun undertaking, and I definitely didn’t mind walking to and from his place in the muck weather, the ends justified the means more then considerably. I shared a fairly warm conversation with Andre as I walked him home as well. He talked about his school problems; I listened and carefully carved out a piece of my own reality. Amidst the cold air, dimmed cloudy overcast and surreal snowy backdrop, I believe that a lot of necessity was voiced. Eventually the discussion simmered into a calm and collected discussion on ghosts, spirits, the afterlife and all that other metaphysical fogginess. I enjoyed this walk. Over the last week or two people have been treating me differently, as though I’ve climbed atop a bridge and threatened to kill myself. Verbally this is untrue, but emotionally I couldn’t agree more, I have been slipping into a darker void of existence. A bottle of aspirin appears differently to the mind when its caregiver is in a state of unrest. Your grip is tighter, you hold the bottle longer and there’s a certain fear in what you could do. Do I want to do this? I really don’t know. I’ve asked myself this before while taking out a normal dosage of two tablets; every time this same state of uncertainty proves truthful. Whether or not they’re calling me down for “me” or my positions is yet to be seen, but at least there showing some interest in my well being. I need friends, and anyone that cares enough to phone and ask what’s up is good enough in my book right now. I might not be able to open up as comfortably as here, but alas it’s something at least.

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Subject: Thanks. Time: 9:04 am. Mood: happy.

There's a snow storm hitting Toronto. Finally and thank GoD. We've had warm, spring weather all winter and I've been really looking forward to a good dumping like this one. :D EDIT: I'm going out a bit later to take pictures, when it's packed up a little more. This is great! ^_^.

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Subject: Boiling point. Time: 4:16 pm. Mood: calm. Music: Dead or Alive - You spin me right around.

80’s music? Yes, it’s that bad =P The day started out rather horribly but slowly it’s gotten better. A cousin and friend of mine popped over again, which was nice. I think they know I’m going through something because they both asked numerously if I was all right, to which I replied “I’m alright”. They can tell, but I’m not comfortable enough to talk with either of them. They’ll most likely label me a whiner and shrug the rest off their collars. I don’t feel like hearing that right now, if you know what I mean, not when I’m inches away from insanity. I haven’t been the same person for the last 6 months; I’m a lot darker and it apparently shows through in my daily upkeep. I agree, definitely. We played some online kickball (I got owned), Smash Brothers (they got owned) and FFX (the fiends got owned). I let Ricardo use the game since I haven’t been in the mood really. He loved it so much that he decided not to pick up his hard drive just to ensure that he would beat the game. The computer is a huge distraction for the guy; with it his pushed his console days aside almost completely. He adored Xenogears, loved FF7 and 9, yet he couldn’t finish them because of the cruel, tempting hand of the personal computer. I’m pretty thankful that they showed up actually, I really needed some company. I was so high strung this morning. I slammed the door to my room at one point, made a nice little hole in the wall. *Sigh*. By having them around I calmed down.

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Subject: You've never given me much of a choice. Time: 5:46 pm. Mood: stressed.

Life, just go to hell. I've just about had enough of your shit for today. I've had my filling. Please fuck off.

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Subject: What's this world coming to? Time: 7:24 pm. Mood: confused. Music: Metallica - Sanitarium.

*sigh*. My neighbor that lives in the apartment below mine was shot earlier today in the front of our small complex. I wasn’t aware of any of this until the situation outside melted into a verbal junction of sirens, cop cars and hordes of people. I was drowned in music and bass.. I didn't know. His blood was draped on the fence and scattered about the floor in small pools. There was a pack of cigarette lying there, tainted at the tip with a circular ring of blood. At first I didn't see any of this, I couldn't, I just saw him propped on a stretcher. I really didn't know what the extent of all this was until I came back in, said my good-byes on AIM (at which time my friend popped in) and headed back out. Yet even amidst the wicked reality of it all, everything turned out as best they could. His fine, not in critical condition, not in serious pain or any great danger. We were friends in a sense; he'd always come home late and knock on my window. He didn't have a key for the longest time and every night we exchanged some words at the door. Eventually we got to be friends, and we worked up this gag every time he came knocking on my window at 3 in the morning. Long story I suppose. His a cool guy, and jesus I couldn't tell you what I felt when I saw him there. I'm glad his alright but damn..., supposedly some random guy just came up and shot him. What is this world coming to? That could have just as easily been anyone else in this building. What's wrong with people?

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Subject: Refining the tired topics of ones life, a decent read. Time: 11:58 am. Mood: sore. Music: Matthew Good Band - Deep six.

Last night was a long story about absolutely nothing, like a Seinfeld episode except only slightly less interesting. *cough*. Before leaving the apartment my mom went on her verbally rampage as always. Supposedly everything in her life is "my" fault. She talks about Brent like I never knew the guy, she twists truths, creates lies, distorts anything medicating into a self-contained guilt trip. She doesn't want anyone helping her, and when people try to help themselves she calls them selfish all the way. I'm weak because I can't treat my own problems, she says, stop dwelling on the past, grow up, you're a horrible person she'll continue. This is the core of contradiction; I can't deal with my problems yet she phones my grandmother (who she'll normally only visit or talk to when she needs money) all drunk and sobby over how life hasn’t treated her well. I try to bring my problems to her attention while embracing her own, I detail how her drinking effects me, how I've felt like committing suicide, but in a way that doesn't discredit her own stresses, in a way that shades a whole “Lets talk about this alright? It’s no ones fault, lets just get help”. She doesn't buy it though, and whenever I see her destroying herself and start crying she'll still ask "what's wrong"? She'll then follow innocently enough with a lecture denoting how incredibly selfish I am, and that maybe I should just get out of her life if I don't like it. I am don't worry, I just regret that I can’t help you in anyway. With this move I’m only going to amplify her sorrow. She’s been warned at work about her absenteeism, and it’s only been getting worse (she’s home now with a hangover, like most Mondays lately). If she looses her job, what will become of her, at the age of 49? I don’t think my mom “sucks” as PeaceTalk put it sarcastically, on the contrary I think that she’s a wonderful person, someone that needs a little more attention in her life. Unfortunately there is absolutely no way I can give her any if she figuratively chases me out every time I try with a clever. How do you think I feel abandoning my mother like that? It’s not like I can take this for another year anyway, but even in absence I’m going to feel an incredible guilt. THAT makes me feel like a terrible person, along with this consensus floating around amongst people I know. Anyway she locked me out last night (with the latch). I didn’t know where to go really, I figured I could crash just outside the door, or maybe head out again and try my dad’s. I didn’t really want to talk him, but it was better then sleeping on a cold, damp staircase against a dirty wall. So I took the 5 mile trek of uncertainty down to Michael’s new house, expecting the worst of course, but you know everything went all right. I got to see my little brothers again, same as always and ready to beat the living crap out of me ^_^;. They’ve always been the thorn in my shoe, but it’s a thorn that I don’t really mind because it’s dulled by the sheering pain of lead chips lodged in my head, directed by the wonderful paroles of this fancy life. They’re great kids that really look up to me, and as you can see from the pictures I posted a little while back were really close. I destroyed them in Smash Brothers, teased them, threw them around the house like good ol’ times, kept repeating stale gag lines, helped brood some rivalry between the two and even embraced the sweet taste of piracy! I think they enjoyed the DBZ movies ^_^. Poor kids, they put up with so much annoyance when I’m around *grins wildly*. Seriously though it was surreal seeing them again, I love those kids even if they gang up on me like army ants and punch me in all the wrong places. I’m 6’0’’ there 3/4 something. You figure it out =P. Every 30 minutes in that house is characterized by long hard moans followed by a loud, blunt thud and, of course, small piddle paddle foot steps up and down the house. I always find them, though, on one escapes L :D. Oh right and the house was very nice. The family moved in about a month ago and, like always, unpacking consisted of throwing all the boxes into a specific room. This time a basement was part of the scheme so it wasn’t as embarrassing. We’ve been caring around boxes full of travails for what must be over 7 years now. From apartment to apartment we’ve carried on this tradition in boxed fashion. Boxes full of broken CD’s, boxes full of unsorted Lego, boxes full of scribbled paper donating the mystical hello’s and good-byes of this thing called stream writing. Tiny squares of cardboard everywhere and everything crammed of title-less books, torn blankets, broken cassettes and… tape. Forgotten content, forgotten context, we really don’t need you cardboard boxes, stop visiting this tortured family every 2 years. See the thing is my dad’s insane. His never actually confided in me about the “voices”, but I mean his a writer that smokes a great deal of the green plant, so that has to mean something. Maybe he isn’t a full-blown “writer” in the sense of publishing books; his a lawyer that dabbles in pleasure writing at most. The majority of his work is scattered in those boxes, some are published, others haven’t witnessed the written process, yet come Sunday at the round table of newspaper and coffee supplements they never fail to escape the verbal masturbation of his mouth. All writers are insane I think, some are just a lot more insane then others. I grew up believing in the three alter-ego’s of “dad”; bad dad, good dad and Captain Beano, in capitals. This is his published venture into the human psyche people. See “bad” bad was easily tempered, he broke things, cursed at inanimate objects and fixed appliances with a sledgehammer. “Good” dad drove the family bankrupt on goodie trinkets and served for the happy yet subtly insane aspect of this fatherly package. When he started talking you would earlier clear the room, listen indefinitely and scrap out the philosophers logic or slumber open eyed. Captain Beano was, well Captain Beano as he put it drove the car. Bad dad tortured my mentality, good dad took the remaining bits of sanity out of this lifeless carcass known as my brain and beat them over their heads with a metal club, and Beano just drove the car right into the Mississippi river. A Gemini, a lawyer, an interesting, intelligent, if not somewhat disturbed pupil of abuse, this is my father. This is Michael. Did I mention that he smokes a lot of pot? I guess that’s why I’ve always loved him regardless of our differences. I’ve always admired his intelligence, his left wing radicalism, his twisted outlook of the world’s function. He was the only person willing and able to dance to my words and lead out into his own enriched logic. He is everything I am not; criminally intelligent, a superior writer, a theorizer, intellectually charged and applied. He speaks fluent Spanish and is a successful, self-employed lawyer. He led the Toronto poem comity for years with his energetic pieces played on guitar. He was a chemical engineer, a part time critique for the Toronto Star and for GoD sakes, he even managed a taxicab! A taxicab! When he lost complete faith in me, the rest feel slowly into place. How can someone this intelligent just give up on me? My perspective, as blind as it may be, is that his somehow justified in doing so. It’s a shame that he has Marasol, the burning stick of spikes +9 up his ass now; he was so disjointed, quirky and loose before. Now he seems compacted, congested and all together for once in his life. Sick analogy aside, I enjoyed the less repressed daddy, whatever shade that was. And of course with each day there comes a lesson. Yesterday’s lesson involved one of those groovy Jacuzzi bathtubs. It had grooves all right. 22 inches deep, 7 feet wide, this thing was the dream soak. But I mean baths are ok right, the deeper the pool the better no? Wrong. I’m never touching the red button again. Those bubble jets just abused me all right; I don’t like my baths touching me thank you very much. After having an erotic experience with the bathtub, I was ready for a shower. Somehow I came out feeling dirtier then when I entered. =P More or less that brings me to right now. I’ve felt pretty horrible the last few days. I’ve visited suicide sites, contemplated the whole thing, and really I’m just kinda scared. Hand me another soundless afternoon of isolation and GoD knows what I’ll do. Why am I telling you this? I don’t know, but that’s me right now. See Dan, I can write long entries too ^_~ Oh right, the FF8 test. Squ.. er, PeaceTalk better enter this one. You are Ellone! Good-hearted and self-sacrificing, people often see you as what you are instead of who you are. You have special talents others envy, but those who take the time to know the real you will see you for the sweetheart that you really are. Take the Final Fantasy 8 Test here!

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Subject: Night out or something. Time: 2:38 pm. Mood: indescribable.

Psycho parent day, this time I don't have anywhere to go. It's 11C outside, that's 52F in screwed American terms. Incredibly warm for a winter’s day in January that’s for sure (But it's Canada!). I'm glad, because I don't know what I'm going to do for tonight. I’ll probably stay out until 12 or something, catch a movie, eat out, walk around a bit and head home, *shrugs*. I really can't wait until I get out of this place and just move out on my own. I just wish someone would care you know? It's not like she does. *shrugs*

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Subject: ;_; Time: 1:42 pm. Mood: rejected. Music: Matthew Good Band - Everything is automatic.

I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow. I should think about getting out, I need to get out because if I don't the heavy contemplation cycle will kick in. I don't want to have the chance to think, thinking is dangerous for me right now. I've visited quite a few sites, same subject matter. I don't know, I don't know. *sigh*

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Subject: Dazed and confused Time: 9:02 am. Mood: lazy. Music: Matthew Good Band - Strange Days.

I collapsed. Remember kids, if you need sleep but just can't quite shut down for whatever reason, try until you can. Fainting is not the job. Luckily it was nowhere special. EDIT: I haven't been able to sleep lately. I've had problems just relaxing; whether it’s the hectic cough, nightmares, stress/discomfort, loneliness or GoD knows what, I don't know, but I haven't been able to. I toss, turn, cough and stress over what truly is trivial at the late hours of the night, and the ends of it all is obviously this, an inability to settle down for some much needed rest. At least when I crashed in the literal sense last night I could, even if it wasn’t in the most comfortable of locations. And for once this week the dream wasn’t the alarm clock. It was pretty pleasant even; something about visiting a good friend (I’m almost positive of who it was, even though I’ve never seen him before) far away and riding these roller coasters without handle bars (not a nightmare in the least for me ^_~). Maybe my internal clock is being reset, *prays*.

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Subject: Rambling? ^_^ Time: 10:20 am. Mood: tired. Music: Matthew Good Band - As long as you're mine.

Structural writing isn’t my cup of tea. I either write or I don’t, I simply can’t tuck segmental articles together under a predefined theme and pass it off with spot cleaned journalism. I tried to write this entry last night to no avail; not only did I try to make an essay out of it but I was beaten from my poor sense of time. I rant well when I’m asleep, but coherence just isn’t the metaphoric ink filling that it should be when I am. Ok so I’m been in a pretty good mood the last few days. Why and is that possible? I know I know it seems almost unbelievable knowing me, but I am. Two nights ago I felt incredibly depressed, and yet now I’m almost completely *insert dorky happy emotion*. The run down: 1. It looks like I may be one step closer to fixing up an old friendship of mine. I feel great talking with the guy again, and it feels good that at least I have someone to turn to down the road, someone close to home. I don’t know if it’ll be like the good ol’ days, but surely having a once good friend as a pal again is good, vede good. 2. I had problems registering for school this semester. I was worried that I may not be able to get in, but that looks to be changing. That friend of mine is going with me (His good friends with the guidance councilors there), and were going to discuss my situation. I’m a pretty unique case given the awkward nature of the last semester and of course the fact that this year’s courses directly reflect on my progress last year. I need prerequisites that I don’t have, but I’m a great student when I’m there and attuned to the curriculum. Will that be enough? I’m not sure, but I may need to complete small workshops to prove that I’m ready for these new classes. I’m a smart kid, I should be alright. 3. I was worried about my financial situation while moving. I might be getting help with the money afterall. Probably not for a long while, but definitely long enough for me to settle in and just conform to this radical change in my life. I’m nervous, but at least things look a little brighter now. I still have to look for a place and get the gears rolling. Mainly it’s a matter of perception. Two nights ago I curled up into a ball and went to bed crying, pillow soaked and craving the worst for my existence. Life can get weird on you even if nothing changes. One minute I’m overburdened, the next I’m coping and feeling less self-pity. One night I feel like just slitting my wrists and the next I’m optimistic and trying to help out the people around me. I don’t understand it; things haven’t really changed yet my state of mind is all the time. But I’m happy and that’s the main thing. The more I come to think of “life” as having a distinctive point of existence, the more I believe that it simply doesn’t. In all probability there is no inherent point to any of this, rather the point comes from our own applications of its importance. I’m a hypocrite because I tell people this all the time; I tell them that they have friends and that there great people, people whom if nothing else have a purpose carved away in the eyes of the individuals that love them. We could sit here for forever pondering the point to it all, but if we did we’d die without ever challenging that meaning. Maybe there is no point, maybe it’s all just a cruel game of futile ends, but then make the best of it. Life doesn’t need to suck if you have good friends to turn to, life doesn’t have to hurt if you know you mean something to someone on any level of emotion liability, and certainly we all do in some way. I guess I’m a little happier today because I’ve realized this if only momentarily for myself.

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Subject: ^_^ Time: 2:08 pm. Mood: loved. Music: Nirvana - Come as you are..

I couldn't type up an entry now even if I wanted to. Simply, I'm too tired, too beat and need to head out soon anyway (I don't have time for crappy editing =P), but I'll definitely be updating a little later with some details. The day could be best described as a warm, subtle hug, a perspective altering push for optimism and change. Refreshing. Well a small nap is definitely in order, expect an update later.

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Subject: ? Time: 7:32 am. Mood: tired.

See what Care Bear you are. But I don't... sleep? I've been logged onto AIM for nearly two days and at most I get about three hours of sleep a day. What gives? =P Can't say I'm not always tired though ~.~. I should probably think about getting, you know, a normal nights rest one of these days. Damn Diablo 2 ;_;.

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Subject: I'm back in...! Time: 10:42 pm. Mood: scared. Music: Noir - Zero Hour.

Have you ever had one of those dreams that left you trembling by morning in cold sweats and fear? The type that’s beyond realism, almost as if you were there? I just did and man am I ever off kilter. I woke up terrified and disillusioned to the whole experience. From what I can remember, I was a cadet in the army holding a vital base-point when suddenly the enemy line stormed our location. We held our ground as best we could, but eventually we were overrun and the whole area was marked a nuking zone. I tried to escape but I was shot down, through the side of my back, shoulder and leg. I could feel the cold pierce of the bullets rasping my existence, I could hear the cries circling around me like ravens; familiar faces, old friends, family and lost loved ones. I woke on the rain-drenched streets just outside my house. I could barely recognize the neighborhood which I called home. It was late, midnight maybe when I knocked on the door to my apartment. No one answered. I ran down the street to see if anyone knew who I was, but there was nobody. From what I could tell, the city had been evacuated, and the few people that I did see didn't acknowledge my existence. I got access to a computer somewhere and tried looking for you guys, but again no seemed to care. It was much later when I felt myself slipping from this spiritual void. I didn't have anyone there, and people simply didn't care or didn't notice me at all. I think I was already gone long before I lost the feeling in my arms in legs. I could feel myself slipping away as I thought to myself "is this it?". I didn't know; I wanted to make a sign that I was Elliott before moving on, but no one would look my way, and slowly the light escaped me. It scared the living hell out of me. I woke up a little later after some trivial light heartedness, but the impact still remained. I feel like such a war dreamed cliché ;_;

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LiveJournal for Elliott. View: User Info. View: Friends. View: Calendar. View: Memories. You're looking at the latest 20 entries. Missed some entries? Then simply jump back 20 entries.