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Saturday, March 2nd, 2002
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8:25 am
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Heather, Lee and i went to Chuck E. Cheese's last night with Danielle, Dominick and Dylan (who for an almost three month old is very aware of things around him.) I gave all my tokens to everyone else and just held Dylan the whole time. He liked all the blinking lights and kept twisting his head around to get a better view of them. I feel this tugging feeling of such a strong love for this little kid (my nephew-- that sounds so cool) every time i'm near him... i almost get mad at anyone who tries to take him from me... even his own mother. It's the same with Jasmin and Dominick. No doubt this love will be much stronger with our own kids when we have them... i hope that i don't smother them with it. Sometimes i'm afraid i would love them so much that it might kill me.
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| Tuesday, February 12th, 2002
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2:58 pm - I am the retard.
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He doesn't have many skill, this boy... they call him stupid, slow, special, retard. He doesn't understand most things, forgets them each time he relearns. He cries a lot because he tries, he really tries, but he never gets it right. It doesn't take much to amuse the boy, he sees things differently... the sound of twigs snapping is to him a symphony, and he sees a rainbow in every passing strangers face. He is simple. But his simple mind allows him to love. He loves everyone... perhaps because he can't see inside of them, can't understand the horrible things they say and think. His love is innocent.
Or maybe he really does see through people... and he sees through their dirtiness and hate to the little child that we all really are... God's children. He sees the beautiful person that God created.
Sometimes i feel retarded. And i want to love people for who they are, but it's hard when i can't see past who they are. And i let their hurtful words and actions drag me down till i say and do the same things.
We should rethink who we call retarded. If anyone is slow of wit, it's people like me... ignorant and selfish. Some days i wish i were more like the 'retard'.
current music: R.E.M.: Automatic for the People
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5:53 am
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It's hard to find things to talk about at 5:45 in the morning. Maybe it's just a waste of my time to even write, but what else do i have to do?
-I had forgotten how much these dang tattoos itched for the week or so after they're done... not so bad this time since it was just a retouch.
-Threats of more terrorism today?
-All of the characters in the books i'm reading are beginning to blend together... maybe i should start reading just one at a time... for now, i'm reading The Violent Bear it Away, which Casey lent me, The Great Gatsby four the third time, John Banville's 'Eclipse', which i can't seem to get through, and the Ramones Anthology... which isn't half as interesting as one might think.
That's all i guess... not sure why i felt compelled to write about nothing but i guess even i must come down to earth every now and then.
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| Monday, February 11th, 2002
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1:57 pm
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i see many fathers who seem to be taking their fathering lessons from Homer Simpson. and it's no wonder their children are idiots... with an ignorant man for a father what else is a child to become? and how do you argue with them, the father? they have no logic and a rational statement causes them to react with an almost angry statement... perhaps frustration. and they sit and watch children's shows or even daytime talk shows... not because it interests them but because it occupies their eyes, like a retarded child crumpling and tearing brightly coloured paper.
why are some couples, who have an obvious love for children and a yearning to have children of their own unable to?
why are men who can't even take care of themselves allowed to have in their charge another human life, one who is going to strive to be like him, act like him and end up thinking like him? they pass down their ignorance like an heirloom... because surely they are right on every subject... and those who call themselves 'educated' and those with interests that reach beyond sports, hunting, automobiles and just being a lazy piece of poop, they are the fools.
fatherhood to me seems the most daunting task there may be in life... which is why it scares me. i want desperately to have children and to be the best father that i can be when the time comes... but can i do it? can i teach growing and inquiring children all the things they need to know? - and without proselytizing so that when they are older they simply ignore what i taught them all along? i understand now that making mistakes, often huge mistakes, is part of everyone's life but when my child makes those mistakes would i be able to handle it? it might break my heart.. it might pain me to the point of my death. what if my children do to me what i've done to my own parents these last few years? what if someone rapes my daughter? (actually i know the answer to that one... i would kill them.) what if my son becomes an addict? what if my children don't look up to me or think that i am one of the fools i described above? what if i don't do a good job?
i do know this... that i need to be more sure of myself and more grounded in my convictions before i begin to think more seriously about this subject. but i'll still worry about it. i can't wait to have someone call me daddy.. it brings tears to my eyes even now... but when i have children, i just don't want to ever let them down.
current music: Morrissey
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| Friday, February 8th, 2002
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2:02 pm
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so tear out your tongue, you fool
you've got nothing good to say to me.
silly little pretty boy, you worthless old man
i see you and believe in you.
you really should go to hell.
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| Thursday, February 7th, 2002
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1:21 pm
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Someone said to me a couple years a go that 'being humble is a sign of being weak and revealing your weaknesses is a sign of being a fool.' i couldn't agree less. the reserved, the proud, the un-feeling and the haughty are who i think of as the weakest folks around. it seems obvious to me but when you point out to a person like this that haughtiness and pride are only blankets to cover up a feeling of unimportance and insecurity, they always object, which i suppose is a normal reaction, that the accused deny the fact that they are weak and show a necessity to continue to appear strong in attempts to prove it to the accuser.
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12:38 pm
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hmmm... another boring week-day off at the house. i suppose if i was less of a lazy, pathetic cretin i would actually go do something. but for now i'll just sit and write in this journal which is often a theif of my time.
i'm going later to get my tattoos retouched, so that should be fun... except for the pain of course. and there's a cd i want and i have a little money, so i have that to look forward to.
i was thinking last night about all the many times i've convinced myself that i have 'changed', and how this is not totally true. my tastes have changed, yes; and the way i look at things has changed greatly. but me myself i haven't changed a bit. i'm still rather mean, lustfull, rude, self absorbed (and downright selfish), impatient with others, unloving and uncaring, lazy and self hating. maybe i should just get hooked on heroin or something... at least then i'd have a little excitement with all the robbing and stealing i'd have to do.
i think that i just grew up too fast... and i forced myself to. a kid that has to worry about grown-up things isn't always going to go through the right steps of maturation that he needs to... he hurries through many and skips the rest leaving him unprepared for life. yet this is no excuse. and i don't think my mom's going to write me a 'please excuse matt from life' note. it's time that i start relying on myself (and God of course)... my entire life has been spent relying on other people or other things to get me through. i've been so distant from reality at times, not wanting to accept what was going on. and escaping reality makes one not want to face things in the real world. like girls, the girls in the magazines loved me while the girls in the real world didn't, yet both saw that i was tall, awkward, and even a little goofy. and the more i looked at the girls in the magazines the more this un-reality became real to me... while the real girls walked on by.
and i am still an escapist: when i immerse myself in a book, or fade out while listening to music, the world becomes less real, and my problems seem less impending. and then when things do go really wrong with me watching and not caring, i've always got something to blame it on.
what a fool i am! maybe i've been reading too much Kafka and now i sit and just think about things... think and rethink...
i don't want to be like that... i want to live my life. but i feel this weight over my head. maybe God will show me the way... if only i will listen.
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| Thursday, January 31st, 2002
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6:14 am - Of death and of living, and the curiosities of both
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Let's see, where to start?
Haven't updated for a while... mainly because i've been spending a lot of my time in places like doctor's offices, hospitals, funeral homes, and traveling cars.
Heather had a bunch of cysts on her ovaries that were bursting, so we made many trips to the emergency room. In one such visit, Megan came to inform us (as cell phones have to be turned off) that Nanny in Florida had had a stroke and was dying. Leaving the hospital, we went upstairs to visit Heather's other Grandma who is dying of lung cancer. We asked her how her husband was doing up in long term care... not well.
Nanny passed away the next day, so we drove to Florida and stayed with Heathers' aunt and uncle, who is literally drunk all of the time. He seems to me like a sober person doing a really bad impression of a drunk. Once, not wanting to make his wife mad by continuing to open the patio door and letting the air conditioning out, he climbed through the small window above the sink separating the patio from the kitchen.
Nanny came on a boat from Australia where she was born and never went back so she wanted her ashes to be spread over the ocean in hopes that some of them would make it back home. So on a breezy afternoon about a dozen of us stood on a long pier that stretched far into the ocean. Each of us held a cup half full of Nanny's ashes, half full of flower petals. (A passing Hawaiian surfer informed us that this is an honored tradition where he comes from.) What happened that day still disturbs me, although in some sick way it is rather funny. We all leaned out over the side of the pier, trying to be as subtle as we could about breaking the bio hazard laws of the beach, when one among our bunch let his ashes fly. Everyone else took this as their cue to throw their ashes as well (even in recognition of the fact that there were half a dozen surfers below us in the water). The first thing Nanny's ashes heard upon hitting the water was "WHAT THE F*CK!?!"
Some poor kid was down there rubbing the ash and bone out of his eyes, trying to get away from the dust cloud as fast as he could. Ah, and he'll never know what it was...
But then a pelican swooped down and landed among the floating ashes and flowers and rested peacefully, seeming almost to be protecting them... as we left the pier, the pelican also raised his wings and flew out toward the ocean.
On a livelier note, i was the un appointed (but self appointed) babysitter for our niece Jasmine (who has got to be the cutest baby ever to live... seriously...) The more time i spend around her, the more i think it would be the greatest thing to be a father... but not yet.
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| Tuesday, January 8th, 2002
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2:39 pm
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It was a fine day for a walk. I stepped out the door in high spirits, expecting. The shadows of four turkey vultures circling overhead greeted me on the lawn. Maybe a bad sign? No, I decided to go on. Hunter fell into step beside me as I walked into the woods, down the steep hill toward the river. How bare it was; in Summer this place reminds me of a rain forest with its dense trees and humid air. I climbed a tree while Hunter splashed in the cool water. It was almost Winter, but quite warm. My thoughts began to wander, running far away from the noisy world,its overbearing concerns. Hunter was staring at me, wondering what i was doing up in that tree of mine. "I'm coming..."
We found a dry bed where the water had once run strong, carving its way through the earth and rock. Walking down this un-river with its high walls to my left and right, I felt my smallness. Stopping to listen, I heard the wind blowing in the trees, rustling the thousands of leaves above me so they tapped together. The water was running in the river not far away, smoothly caressing the rocks underneath, gushing and gurgling. I moved on (Hunter had already done so long ago). We came upon a wide stretch of river where the water was calm and reflecting the sunlight onto the nearby trees and rocks on the bank. Two trees leaned toward eachother from either side of the river, touching at the top and forming a giant upside down 'v' in the air. This place is so quiet, the water so still, it's like a sort of sanctuary... so peaceful.
Looking up, I saw that not too far ahead through the wood there was a golden field (or at least the late afternoon sun turned it so). I shouted to Hunter and we both ran, bounding through the brush, balancing on fallen trees, stumbling and falling once or twice. We broke through some brambles and stepped into the field, full of hundreds of clusters tall amber grass. Off to the right some squirrels chattered
and ran up and down the trees, jumping from branch to branch, no doubt alarmed by our presence. Remember when they weren't scared of you, Matt? You were much more gentle then. Yes, I remember... How could I forget? She held her hands to her mouth in joyful amazement. "Oh my gosh! It just came right up to you... you're like Snow White!" And then she laughed... I remember everything. I also remember the one day I let myself be talked into going hunting; I remember aiming my shotgun and firing, hitting the poor creature right in the eye; I remember that little squirrel's eyeless socket staring at me as I carried it home by its tail. Never again.
Ahead is a barbed wire fence that had been nailed to a tree years ago. The tree had grown right around it and swallowed it, leaving no trace of the rusty brown wire. Maybe one day the world will swallow up all of our ugliness and dirtiness like this...
Heading back to the house I missed the turn-off twice and had to circle back to look for it. How like me to see where I should be going but walk right by it.
Walking back to the hill I realized that I wasn't as lonely as I thought I was upon beginning this little journey. I rather like being by myself often enough.
Hunter finally caught up with me and we raced up the hill. Alas, four legs are better than two. Panting, I reached the house to find him sitting right in front of the door with a look of triumph on his brown and white snout.
I'd like to think that events like this are almost life changing... It happens more frequently than people let on, I think, having life changing events. And they don't have to be big events. We are changing all the time. All it takes is a little nudge here and there to get us to realize it. Hopefully, I am changing for the better. While trudging through the woods I decide each moment which rock I will jump to, or which rock might have a snake under it, or what branch i will grab for support. All of these small decisions lead me one way or another, and I hope they lead me the right way. In the same way I travel through life. Maybe I stepped on a few loose stones and didn't always lean on the best branches, but I can always find another path in the right direction (or make a new path if need be).
It's never too late for a second try.
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| Monday, January 7th, 2002
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2:17 pm
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...The rifle was heavy in my hand, almost too heavy to hold while climbing a ladder. I hate hunting, but i felt like he really wanted me to go with him. It wasn't long before it started raining and we had to find shelter in an old brown barn buried deep in the woods. The loft seemed the most dry place to me, so i made for it...
The rain hitting the boards of the roof was deafening and drops fell through the cracks, soaking the hay around my feet. He stood below me, rifle resting in the bend of his arm, hands in his jacket pockets, staring at nothing. I felt no malice, no hatred, but i raised my rifle and shot him through the chest. Blood spattered the hay behind him as he crumpled to the ground. A wide hole in his back told me that he must be dead. Calmly, i gathered hay and leaves and buried him where he lay.
"Where's Dad?" I had been home some time without saying a word. Now they all gathered around me, staring, questioning. The eldest sibling stopped her squawking, gazed at my rifle, then back to me. One by one, each one did the same. Fool! They knew! But how could they? My last memory was a fast 'click' and the length of the gun being leveled to my chest.
Most of the time i have dreams that i can't remember.
Some dreams i try not to remember but fail.
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| Thursday, January 3rd, 2002
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1:55 pm - Ah, now i know what you were talking about, Michael
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It's amazing what devices you can sympathize, empathize.
This is my mistake. Let me make it good.
I raised the wall and i will be the one to knock it down.
This is my life and this is my time...
It's high time i razed the walls that i've constructed...
This is my mistake. Let me make it good.
I raised the wall and i will be the one to knock it down.
-Michael Stipe
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| Wednesday, January 2nd, 2002
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2:13 pm - Moments of clarity
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it makes my head foggy, this voice and these meaningless conversations. off track, i start losing the clarity that so rarely comes to me. when i don't hear it, or choose not to, i think clearly and see things that i usually don't. it's hard for me to find words, but only because it's hard to find the thoughts to form them. i like it when my mind wanders... but when we speak it stays on course, possibly down the wrong path. when my mind wanders, i see clearly...when my mind wanders, it is free.
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| Thursday, December 27th, 2001
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3:30 pm
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Good advice is like honey in your tea... or a warm blanket on a cold night.
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2:11 pm
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You're so angry, it seems. I guess i might understand if i had gone through what you have. But how long can you keep hurting? We all cope differently, i suppose - you scream, i weep silently.
This is pain you feel... i hear it in your voice and through your words. And you have much to be angry about. But what about the kids? That middle schooler who wears your t-shirt every other day; he knows all the words. And even though he's got it pretty good, he feels like he should be angry about something too. Sure, he's just pawning your anger... but his anger does become real. And what does he do with it?
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| Wednesday, December 26th, 2001
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11:17 am
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I used to hope that i'd die before i got too old- just out of fear for not being able to take care of myself- but that is weak! I think i would make a good old man... a cranky old fart wearing oversized cardigans and muttering to myself.
But, i would like ot be a wise old man who is able to share wisdom with others. Both my mother's father and my father's father were full of wisdom and intelligent thoughts on the world. I would like to be like that (as well as cranky!)
Sometimes i see myself in the future, but i never see an old 'me.' I've lived with a thought in the back of my head for years now... I will die young.
If that's true, i had better start living while i've got the chance!
current mood:  peaceful
current music: Idlewild
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| Sunday, December 23rd, 2001
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9:55 am - Progressive Regression (I don't need your pastor's advice)
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I was just reading over a few of my past entries, and noting how much i have changed over the past year (nearly) since i started this journal. I was already a changed person upon beginning the journal... changed from what to what? From a person that i remember fondly to a person that brings thoughts of near disgust. Obviously this theme of change hasn't left me just yet: But to progress do i have to regress to the 'better me' that i was before i changed into the 'lesser me?' No, i think that would be foolish. It's all too cliche to say that things happen for a reason, but it is true. I don't think i have to get 'back to the place' i was before. By moving forward, the person i become may resemble the person i once was... but to move forward by returning to my 'old self' would be absolute folly.
The events of the last few years have been for a reason. Who am i to just brush them aside without learning from them? As i continue to change (i suppose i will never stop changing- i hope...) i will try to make all of my decisions wisely with these events in the front of my mind. Maybe God will grant me wisdom- a thing i have lived my whole life without. And maybe i can stop it with these sappy, over nostalgic entries about yearning for my past and look forward to tomorrow... or better yet, appreciate this moment i'm living right now.
I took a silly test the other day that informed me i was 62.3% emo. I found this highly alarming, but not surprising. I like much of the music with this little label, but while I don't really look or dress too 'emo,' i guess my mindset is right there. It's not so bad; I guess it's better than being 62.3% asshole.
current mood:  content
current music: Ivy
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| Monday, December 17th, 2001
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4:39 pm - i am evil
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I've been trying to figure out for a long time now, who is this person that i am? I certainly don't like him.
I never worried about this when i suppose most people do, as a teenager. I felt then that it was 'all in God's hands,' rather naively... not to say that things aren't in his hands, just noting how simple it is to change things and take my life into my own bumbling hands. Yes, i did that. Maybe i was tired of 'submitting' all the time. Now i wish that i had gone through my little rebellion when i was younger... everything is easier to fix when you're young and the decisions we make aren't as long standing. After years of living my life in ignorant defiance, i will now try to deliver my life back into God's hands. And as easy as our 'pastors' make this seem, it is actually quite scary. I'm back to not knowing a thing... i am not in control. And part of me still wants to be. This part of me wants to sink into life; be un-noticed, not have to be accountable, to be able to give in to life's little urges and desires, of which we are all afraid to even mention, knowing full well that almost everyone feels those same urges... because we are all evil. But i feel that if i do what God wants and not what i want, i don't think i will go un-noticed. Something nags at me all the time... 'you could be so much better'... 'i could be someone who someone could adore'...'there is a better you out there.' I don't believe that i pushed God away long enough to do too much damage. I am a Christian, but then i am not... i am a follower of Christ, but i am not very many (even a few, i think) of the things that a 'christian' is supposed to be. Maybe this is error on my part, but i don't think so. Modern christianity sucks. It's all legalism wherever you go... unless of course it's one of those churches where God doesn't care about self control anymore and acting like a drunken fool is godly. But can a follower of Christ be a christian in these days of bi-level palace churches, plastic preachers and 'evangelism' that says give more tithe money because we need another extension on the four acre church. Bah!
God will accept me without me having to sell my soul to the christian church, i am not worried about that. But when so many people are engulfed in their stupid little church, Bible study, Wednesday night classes, christian chat room type christianity, it just seems like there will only be more work for the rest of us...
To answer my own question from above: i am nobody... but that doesn't matter to God, and i'm sure it won't get in the way of what he has in mind for who i'm to be.
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| Thursday, December 13th, 2001
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2:45 pm - I'm NOT Gay!
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I happen to be one of those tall, slender bastards whose wrists often flop instead of staying steadily at a 180 degrees.
And i HATE sports. I think there aren't many people who couldn't kick my butt without much trouble on their part. I can't do much with cars or machinery. I don't drink beer or fart or cuss much. I kind of like that TV show The View. I like pastel colours. I can appreciate another guys handsomeness. I enjoy reading books, painting, drawing, going for walks in the woods, and other 'gay, sissy' stuff like that. I guess i'm maybe one of the most non-manly men there is around.... But does that make me gay?!? NO!!
Why do i have to be all into muscle cars and who got traded to what football team and what all his 'stats' are. And why do i have to listen to Limp Bizcut (whatever the spelling is!). I am secure in my un-manly heterosexualness and i need not these testosterone inducing toys for the weak of mind.
ok, i've proven myself straight... at least to myself.
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| Wednesday, December 5th, 2001
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4:31 pm
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A swarm of crows in Celtic Mythology is very symbolic and is usually a bad omen. If seen while a person is alone, it usually means that death is near. I wonder what a swarm of swallows means?
I walked out to my car today and overhead the sky was black from so many swallows flying, swooping down to land in the branches of nearby trees. Thousands of them, surely. It was amazing, but also a bit scary and forboding. I walked over to the cluster of trees they were perched in to get a closer look and realised that this must be a bathroom break on their long journey because they were pooping all around me. Birds! How majestic and filthy all at once.
My big plan didn't quite work as i had planned. (Probably because it was so selfishly planned.) But, i learned a lot in the last two days about myself and my wife. I'm sure that's a good thing.
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4:13 pm
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A swarm of crows in Celtic Mythology is very symbolic and is usually a bad omen. If seen while a person is alone, it usually means that death is near. I wonder what a swarm of swallows means?
I walked out to my car today and overhead the sky was black from so many swallows flying, swooping down to land in the branches of nearby trees. Thousands of them, surely. It was amazing, but also a bit scary and forboding. I walked over to the cluster of trees they were perched in to get a closer look and realised that this must be a bathroom break on their long journey because they were pooping all around me. Birds! How majestic and filthy all at once.
My big plan didn't quite work as i had planned. (Probably because it was so selfishly planned.) But, i learned a lot in the last two days about myself and my wife. I'm sure that's a good thing.
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