The day I use THAT as my subject line?  You know I lost my mind. Seriously. Me. Avril. My cognitive abilities have vanished.

A) Postmodernism? Is SUCH FUCKING BULLSHIT I HATE THEM.

B) ......

Uhm.

I need to learn to... not look at my profile to check to see if the couple people I friended lately friended back. Not 'cause of them (Trojie, you rock my socks, really).  Just... things change. And I don't know when, but I realize later that I missed something really major and I'm still stumbling along behind in stupid, hopeful, naive innocence, and... yeah.  Anyway. ...I don't really have to be tactful anymore. No one to be tactful to. *Melancholy sigh*

Gods, I shouldn't ever look at it.  Just... glad to know I'm not that... whatever. I don't feel like using the first word that occurs to me, because I want to avoid thinking about screaming arguments.  I'm too tired for them.  I think I've still lost faith in human loyalty.  ...Except not really, 'cause... I have Heather, and Tessa, and LG and Jenn, and Katie and all my wonderful Cambridge buddies, and Betsy and my school friends and they DO EXIST it's amazing, and...

It's so strange, isn't it, how one person can affect your whole world outlook?  I suppose that, as I have no reason to be tactful, I'll add that the word I was looking for is juvenile.  But... I don't fully have the energy to care anymore.

It's almost over. It has to be.

...I'm very tired. *Pause* Except that, when I say that, and my first thought is to just... sleep, to let it all go away...

And then I stop. Because I don't want it to let it all go. Not ever.  It's all I have, you know? Let it hurt, let me scream and cry... it's life. And one's a bloody idiot if one doesn't see that.  Or let it go...

And therein lies the dividing line.  Sorry, July. You're wrong about me and Tyroshaun. Because I'm not willing to give up. Ever. ...Closer to Adrian that way, ass though he can be--but he chose to live. There's a difference--and one which I need to make clear--between not wanting to die and wanting to live. He gave up. See... he and Adrian have... similarities. Except that Adrian was ALWAYS the sweet, gentle guy, very self-effacing, and he became rather bitter and dangerous and, well, psychotic; a young Tyroshaun was much more dynamic (closer to a mix of Celtan and Adrian), more charismatic, less self-effacing--and then he discovered that he was not, in fact, a god on earth, that he was incredibly fallible and couldn't do everything, and discovered it traumatically enough that he... gave up on ever actually living at about the age of eighteen. ...Which, strangely enough, is a completely consistent character trait and has been for years now. I think I pretty well straddle the two boys in character--but you're wrong about me and Tyroshaun in particular. We share things, 'cause I love him and made him a lot of what I wanted to be and what I am still afraid of being... but there are fundamental differences in outlook. I partially blame his testosterone poisoning. 

...anyway.  Uhm.  i'm gonna... go do that thing where ya reject colleges. And, y'know... try not to cry and stuff.

I want to go home.

...I don't know where that is anymore.

(I'm Shia now? ...I wonder how Nate's doing.)

If you do happen to read this, Aubrey... I've said before that talking would be nice.  That the lack-of-talking has been rather... detrimental to my mental state. And it would be nice.  Really.  It gets damn quiet around here sometimes.

...that I would be able to manage PayPal.

If anyone knows how to pay for this using it, please tell me, 'cause I don't know how to do it. Or how to do money orders, so that's out too.

Yeah, I fail. But dammit, I'm gonna get my lilacs.

...I have a headache.

And a bad day, despite many good things happening.  I'm a born teacher, apparently.

But... just...

I'm too fucking tired for life right now.  Way too fucking tired.  And... just...

I had my escape methods, ya know? And those are currently mostly gone.  Except for about one, and I'm... I dunno. I may be able to scrape up a post or two tonight for Sonora.  But...

But.  I can't.  Maybe I'll work on Shia and Cel tonight. Even though I should be writing fucking pocverse. I can't handle it tonight, though. Because I'll write that patrol, and I can't deal with the nervous breakdown it would entail.

Why do things end?  Why do people die?

Is it just to balance an equation?

Ignore the randomness of that subject. Was just the last song we were singing in choir.

So.  I'm about this close to subtitling my presentation "Because God is dead." *Snicker* But it IS Nietzsche, after all. That man is misrepresented. People claim he was the forerunner to Nazism--in fact, he BROKE WITH HIS EDITOR because of his editor's anti-Semitic and pan-Germanic tendencies. He was anti-Nazi before there were Nazis to be anti to. Whoot for him.  Interestingly, Nietzsche's birthday is two days after mine. Not that it means a damn thing, but it's interesting to note.

*Sighs* Gods above, I'm exhausted beyond all ability to speak of it.  My amazing teacher is letting me take my math test tomorrow, so I'm working on my Nietzsche presentation tonight. (Lee, NOT staying up all night to work, but actually BEING PRODUCTIVE DURING THE DAY. WTF, I KNOW.) But I actually LOVE this presentation, and I'm falling in love with Nietzsche's ideas.  And he was ahead of his time philosophically, I think.  I need to read his stuff. And Spinoza.

I'm a geek. Proud of it, too.

I've been watching a lot of One Piece lately, and... mixed feelings. It's silly and fun, and as such I like it. I get bored sometimes, though--it's too broken up, and with such short episodes (about twenty minutes) and the CONSTANT recapping of what happened last episode, it's like 15 minutes of new material every show. Which gets tedious. But I love the way the characters are being developed (more on this later, or in the other journal).

Pointless Jazz concert tonight. Blah.

Anyway, I'm going back to my Nietzche now.  *Frowns* I ought to make purely One-Piece agents. Maybe my two intended agents can be... oh... Fantasy-verse agents, although Robin may get transferred later, but she's the fantasy girl. *Frowns* Kitty I KNOW is a Legolustbunny, but she may be very Lizbeth like and be an anime geek. Hmmmm.... yes, Kitty would be a good OP agent. I need aonther, though.  Luffy? KICKS ASS. *Diiiiiies* He's my favorite character. Not my LO, just my... OHMIGODILOVEYOU. Zoro is MUCH more attractive. But less my favorite. It's a strange adoration. (Although Luffy would LOVE getting pounced, by anyone--just for the fun of HEY, LET'S PARTY! Not so much being an LO, but... partying? Yeah. Zoro would hate it.)

Also, I'm pretending to be a guy in choir. *Snickers* Seriously. It's hilarious.

Okay. Fritz calls! (...Except now I'm imagining the murderous computer geek... *Fails* Caroline thinks we should watch OMWF in MTAP. I agree. ........GILES!!!!! *Done*)

...Also, I'm an excellent actor. Not that I can act on stage, per se, unless all the world really is a stage as some would have you believe.  But... yeah.

I think I have had... about one and a half meals a day recently, tops. 

EDIT: ... *GAG* So OP fic just made me want to retch, the prose is that urple. Think about the thesaurus-using RPers, except... IN FIC FORM. *Shudders and wants to cry*

On the note I meant to actually give, though... interesting discussion with one of the poetry editors. Maybe sex ought to be explained to young kids. Not YOUNG young, but... sixth grade? Just prior to hormones kicking in? 'Cause kids that age are like "EEEEWW, COOTIES!" And then there's no mystery about it, yeah? So they'll KNOW, won't be interested, and it won't be news when the hormones kick in. It's something to consider.

Okay, so admittedly, I haven't actually had a good day all week.  But... dammit, I was having an okay day.  I had a bout of total hysteria yesterday, and then today Caroline swore she'd teach me to knit 'cause I keep trying to steal her blanket, and yes I may have basically collapsed and been shaky and almost unable to walk up to school for rehearsal. But things were okay when I got there, and people are talking to me a little sometimes, which is bizarre and a little nice, to have a little socializing.

But, besides fucking UMass Amherst... And besides the fact that I can't fucking write and now I have to do a Neitzche paper by next Friday (fuck...), and besides the fact that my headspace is... very locked and tense and silent and there's a million problems...

I was having a good day.  Ish.  Sarah called, and Valerie was on, and I have eBooks to read.  And I was... content, I think is the word. A decent enough rehearsal that I could... smile a little. Hope a little.

Yeah.  No.  Forgot that rule of life.  Fucking narrative laws. Go to hell.  ...Also, the phone convo... yeah, reasons I'm mildly not happy with it, but unimportant ones.  Mainly...

*Curls up* I hate it. I sometimes try to tell people what I think or feel. Rarely.  I'm usually too reserved for it.  But when I try... I get reminded there's no point in it.

I hate it.  I was almost having an okay day.  People are telling me I'm pretty suddenly.  I'm getting friends... And now I'm crying.  Again.

And getting slapped in the face with the fact that you can't really trust people.  They fuck with your head and leave you to dry.

I think people treat other people as puppets.  As toys.  Because it's all fun and games, right? All small stuff.

Except sometimes it isn't.  And what do you do then?

And what do you do when you need to talk to someone about trust, but no one you know is someone you can trust to cry on anymore? To know will be there to hold you, always, no matter what?

Who's going to miss you?

Should they?

...notthinkingaboutthat,sunlightisgood...

...Okay. Dear Fake-Bell-Tower playing that FUCKING STUPID alma mater: SHUT THE FUCKING HELL UP WHY DON'T YOU? And turn into a monster from Buffy or MMPR and go kill the stupid sonofabitch who ordered you, while you're at it. So long as I don't have to go to the fucking memorial service, that is.

I...

I have no words.

I'm behind in all my work, I'm even more behind on my writing and I can't get myself together enough to do any of it, I still have college work to do, I slept through most of the day, had a horrible dream and what's more, there was a face in it I recognized and I didn't want to see it.

...It was an interesting story. All 'bout the whole... parallel universes/alternate timelines sorta thing.  Must keep the idea in mind.  ...Not the scene that... no.  (There was this, like, religious sacrifice. In French.  Like, the words were written in English, but we had to speak 'em in French. And I finally had to stop, and luckily my companions covered for me so I wouldn't get killed.)

I hate this fucking world.  It... just...

I have no words.

I'll... I think I'm going to go watch my all-time favorite movie (a Hamlet-at-Christmas movie; er, Hamlet the show, not Prince Hamlet's Christmas, although that would make a GREAT satire...).  I'm apparently not the only one who wrote Discworld papers for my teacher.  So... I ought to try to laugh.  Even if it'll only make me cry.

I wish I could have him read my book.

At least the jazz band played better than we ever have before... it was... right...

EDIT: ...Y'know... thing is... it's horrible, with the suicide at the beginning of this year.  But... he was also so sick. Grayson. I mean, to be ill enough to take your own life... gods, that must be a horrible experience. But for the ones left... at least he didn't have to live with that kind of pain, y'know?

It's worse when there's no sickness. When it's just plain, stupid accident.  It shouldn't be like this.

First of all? Should anyone get ahold of downloads of Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers seasons one and two--and possibly three, but that's a lot less important--please get it to me.  Immediately.  'Cause... eeeh, young Tommy Oliver.  ...Er. Basically, I had a young childhood crush on the White Ranger, and I distinctly remember when Kimberly Hart fainted just prior to his identity being revealed, and it was, like, the height of my childhood romance spree to think about Tommy/Kimberly.  And I wanted to be the White Ranger when I was ickle.  And I LOVED those episodes and could never find them. Please? Someone help me?

...Also, if Jenny were less callous and less... snarky, and Giles more competent, their early relationship would be vaguely reminiscent of Chris and Kim's.  And... okay, this is my periodic GILES IS LOVE squee.  Just... oh my god, I love him. So much. Aaaack. This has nothing to do with Cinaed. Really. Nothing at all. ....ILOVEHIM.

On to the point of all this.

I've been obsessed with death lately. I... I don't know why. I just am.  This is what Gaiman and Pratchett have done to me.  I can't stop thinking about it. It's not like I'm... suicidal, because I'm not. I love life.  I love it more than anything.  I don't want to give it up--I'll live forever or die trying, as Yossarian says.  I was... I opened Reaper Man.  Found the comment about the Morris dance, went looking for the one about the other Morris dance.  And... I think that's why.  Life and Death. The Ankh.  The Morris dance is danced on the first day of spring--a celebration of life.  And in the Ramtops, Pratchett says, they understand you need to dance the other Morris dance.  And it's why I'm thinking about it so much.  Because... you can't really love life and understand it if you don't love and understand death.  For the balance of things.

You've got to dance both, they say. Otherwise you can't dance either.

 You know what I'd love to do?

Write an essay on how my atheism and complete lack of a belief in an afterlife keeps me from suicide.  Keeps me alive and happy.

Partly to screw the religious types. Partly because... it's so true.  So very, very true.

I feel sick and tired and like I want to go die.  But I can't and I won't.

There's so much left to do...

I think I'll go read Reaper Man when I get home.

Stands to reason my English paper is going to be about death.  I can't think about much else lately.

I really do wonder, sometimes, why I bother. But then... what else is there? How can you just... let it go? I have been recently because I can't do any else and I hate it.  And yet...

I think I still remember when I knew how to be happy even in bad conditions. And that's why I try. 'Cause there's nothing else to do, and if you do, that's what makes life pointless.  It's not on or off. It's inbetween, and you have to make it what it is. So I have to give it enough current and enough voltage to turn on.

I need to get out of physics class soon.

 I have come to a conclusion about myself.  This is cut, mostly because I just needed to... think on paper. It helps me get myself straightened out.  If you do read this, any feedback on my self-analysis is welcome.

So I had a minor, minimeltdown earlier, and then could breathe again after talking to the air to rehearse a possible speech to my mum for a while.  Then it turned out she'd just been called in to sub, no... confrontations with my physics teacher, so I could calm down and breathe deeply.  But I lost it for a minute, and I've sinced realized several things.

So yeah. That's that.

I've also come to the conclusion that nostalgia is either a myth, hypocritical, misdefined, or plain stupid (in the majority of cases).  For one, were things ever really the way they used to be?  Memory's a tricky thing, and it's all a matter of perspective.  Not only that, but memories change--things get suppressed, things are forgotten, events and circumstances are altered.  History's a man-made creation in some ways.  So it's not wanting for things to return, but wanting a dream to be reality.  It sort of makes sense--I mean, retroactively with the change in perception the dream sort of does become reality, reality as one perceives it.  And dreams can color perceptions of the present (here using "dream" as "creation of the human mind," whether it be of the real world, past events, or something made up). ...Which leads me to the somewhat strange conclusion that there is no reality.  Um. Okay.  ...See, this is why I love physics.  Physics explains what IS the absolute reality (why balls roll, why birds fly, why we don't explode spontaneously, etc).  Because the rest of it... can't possibly be absolute.  *Frowns* The problem then becomes issues of equality and how to justify them, but... I'll work on that another day.

For the moment, however... the reason I thought of it is that I was thinking about how I'd like things to be how they used to be.  And realized... no, I really don't.  'Cause even if things are more screwed up now, I've matured, I know more. (*Insert Little Red Ridinghood's song from Into the Woods*)  And... not for anything would I give up that knowledge. Think about it.  Would you want to go back to when you didn't know what the world was like?  Would you want to go back to a time when you couldn't look into the near future and see a life ahead, actually see one and comprehend it?  Because you can't really go back once you've lived.  You're not the same--and so your dreams (re: earlier definition) aren't the same, and so reality isn't the same anymore, even if you somehow go back in time.  It's just not the same, none of it.

And then you go back, with your new reality, and wonder if that old reality had ever really existed.  And you realize that maybe it didn't--or it didn't in your new world, anyway. Maybe in the old one it did. But not anymore.  And I, for one, am rather pleased with how I am now, issues aside.  And that's why I've dumped nostalgia.  'Cause really, it never was the way it was.  But it is the way it is, one way or another.

WARNING: Lots of pointless and angsty and possibly drama-queen-ish rambling.  Skip if you get annoyed by all of that.  This is the result of my not being able to talk to people and instead writing it out.  This is also the result of working on and off for three weeks.  So it's incoherent and insane and generally pointless.  Skip if you have any sense.  If you're actually interested in what insanity is currently going through my head, go ahead and read, and comment to tell me if you think I need to get over myself.  God knows I think so, but I needed to work through my thought process.

Before I get to anything else... Tifami Sollaredo.  Hee. Official new character.  Girlfriend in my novel.  May not be totally likable, but that's because if you want to know how to pronounce it, go look up a solfege scale.  I fucking hate solfege. And it screws me over.  (Tee-fah-mee Sole-lah-rey-dough.  Essentially.)  So nyeh. Take that, solfege.

*Sigh*

There's a picture of Andrew sitting on my desk. I dunno where mum found it.  I miss him.

I dropped working on my English paper a few weekends ago to talk to Christina, 'cause she called and really needed someone to talk to, it doesn't matter why.  So I rambled for a while, and uncharacteristically didn't ask if it was okay, or pretend to stop for a while.  Just 'cause... I already knew. *Sighs* Did me a lot of good too, though. I needed a chat, badly.  *Sighs*  Just... god.  I'm tired, I'm not working, and... grrh. But there were also two things I wanted to talk about a while ago, and I was reminded, so I'll write that up now before I forget again. *Hug*

Now, this is basically me... philosophizing or angsting or being a drama queen or something, so ignore it if you'd like.  But they were things I thought about for a while.

And that kind of leads in to my second point.  About people and trying.  It's something I noticed from just being at school again.


And I guess this leads me into the next bit of rambling.  Namely, on... well.  I guess love, or something like it.  Discussion of views on sex included, if you want to avoid that.


Reflection.  I didn't notice the change in me even though I saw the change in the image, because I never realized that it was a reflection until a little too late.  And I should have.  I should have taken that step back a little earlier.  It might've been easier to deal with it all that way.

I think a lot of this was... really incoherent.  I've been working on this, just needing to get it written out, for... a couple weeks now? So there's weird mood swings and stuff in it.  Ignore it if you dislike angsting and pointlessness.  It was just... necessary venting.  I need to talk things through, usually, to get the thoughts straight in my head.  But it's not like I really have anyone to talk to. So I wrote it out. *Shrug* There's a reason I write.  Sorry for taking up your time, energy, and f-list space. 

*Sighs*

Yeow.

So.

Columbia ED's got a 28% acceptance rate.  And I've scraped a 90 GPA, and even a little higher with my almost perfect straight As this semester thus far.  Which means... eeeh. I may have a shot.  Just a chance. Hope and pray and such... Or hope, at least.  Dunny why the praying thing.

I was thinking. I said something about life after death somehow... cheapening life? Definitely feel that way now, two weeks later. Very sure of it.  (Fiddler's Green--Gilbert--actually says as much to Daniel when Daniel tries to bring him back, during The Wake, and I agree entirely.)  Funny, but it makes sense.  I mean... if death defines life, undermining death undermines life.  And if you don't have dreams, how else can you define reality? Mathematics may cover movements, but there's the whole human experience, and that's where dreams come in.

(Think I'll be Death for Halloween.  Hee.  Just for the chance to be cool and the anhk.  ...Maybe I'll have an anoranhk instead! *Snicker*)

I need to get cracking on my college app stuff. And merit stuff and that kinda thing. Lotsa quick due dates... gah. Gotta ask English teachers for recs... eugh. Nerves.

Choir's goin' ta Spain over summer.  Heeee fun. Spain and Scotland.  *Dreamy sigh*

So.  To Do list for tonight: WRITE.  1) Paper. 2) Essay. 3) ISP 4) College app.

Maybe ISP before Essay. Something. I wanna write. Properly.

I liked this quote:

"Who seeks perfection in the art

Of driving well an ass and cart,

Or painting mountains in a mist

Seeks God, although an Atheist."

Francis Carlin

See, that's my view. *Shrug* God's just a word for something people can't understand.  For... order?  For... a sense of something beyond the math? For many it's purpose, but who gives a fuck about purpose?  It's not about why you live.  It's how.

I'd really like to have a chat with Death.