Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Setting the Record Straight About Me
I want to set the record straight on how i personally deal with emotional conflict.
I feel this need to put the statement out here for all time. The need arose during a discussion about the bar crawl this past friday between Julie and Myself. Julie felt I should forgive Jon. I disagreed strongly. But, Julie does make me take pause and think -- she has her way of reaching the academic inside me open to all the limitless possibilities in this life and universe, no matter how much emotional 'I'm not listening. Do not cross." tape she has to burrow though.
She feels that I should do this if just for myself.
I've seen two friends die in the prime of their life, when nothing was possible to overcome the upward momentum that we young have. When its their birthday, or the anniversery of their passing, or for any reason that I think back....as soon as I go to that happy memory, I know I will follow it all the way to the end. That last look at their shell. That realization that they aren't there anymore. Stillness.
You could say that, while I cherish the memories I have of those I've lost, they've become tainted with a 'taste' of sadness. The sun isn't as bright in those memories. There are more clouds in the sky, I'm smaller in those memories.
I try and try to create the belief that friendship is extended family. I try to find those that believe in it, and believe me.
And there are few things one can do to utterly crush me. But when that happens, it is atomic. Once its happened, there's no going back.
Engineering has a simple way to explain it: "Nothing's impossible, but man, have you ever tried getting toothpaste back in the tube?"
When I'm stepped on, its like a new program overwrites some of the older global variables. Your access is denied. You are no longer part of the system. You're not family and you never were.
And since this is my webpage and i can supposedly say what I want, I'm going to be blunt. When I hate someone, I don't hate them for what they did. I hate them for what they've become. I hate their essence. They are percieved as a wrongness. It sets off the same kinds of alarms that 1+1=3 would to a mathematician. And every memory I have of spending time with Jon, from sitting next to him second semester freshmen year at seminar, to winterbreak at nightclub 330 with his grain alcohal punch, is tainted by those final days. Of the warnings by a mutual friend not to go home, because Jon was rounding up TEPs with baseball bats to ambush me. Of the smell of bleach in my appartment as I tried to salvage what wearable items I could from my wardrobe. And of all those thoughts he'd harbored but never said until the very end. They taint the friendship with a 'taste' of betreyal the same way death has saddened some of my memories with friends. It will always come down to what was done and what was said. The why is forgotten, not that it was ever understood in the first place. That is the making of all maliginant hatred.
And that is why I stay mad. That is why I stand by my unwillingness to forgive. I won't pay lip service, because it cheapens the bonds I have with the few people who actually give a flying fuck in return. Having one friend where you're fake over the entire friendship like that is like only beating one son. There are worse alternatives, but it still doesn't make it right.
It makes me think about my parents, and question if they're happy together, living the way they do. Sectioning off parts of the house for the hobbies they don't share. Living their lives on different schedules. The nest is empty. How is suffering through a lifelong commitment any better then breaking a sacrament?
But sometimes I understand that destiny. If Fate is cruel, it will probably be my own. Just thinking about my father wants me to obsessively organize my apartment, stop drinking, and chase money like it was the only skinny chick at a frat party.
But when I calm down and realize writing this has made me late to bed, I comfort myself with the now. So here's to warm beds, and warmer friends, even when the sky is nothing but clouds. Here's to times I can't remember and friends I can't forget. Here's to first hellos and last goodbyes.
"Go Home and Tell everyone that everything's gonna be OK" -- Donnie Darko.
I feel this need to put the statement out here for all time. The need arose during a discussion about the bar crawl this past friday between Julie and Myself. Julie felt I should forgive Jon. I disagreed strongly. But, Julie does make me take pause and think -- she has her way of reaching the academic inside me open to all the limitless possibilities in this life and universe, no matter how much emotional 'I'm not listening. Do not cross." tape she has to burrow though.
She feels that I should do this if just for myself.
I've seen two friends die in the prime of their life, when nothing was possible to overcome the upward momentum that we young have. When its their birthday, or the anniversery of their passing, or for any reason that I think back....as soon as I go to that happy memory, I know I will follow it all the way to the end. That last look at their shell. That realization that they aren't there anymore. Stillness.
You could say that, while I cherish the memories I have of those I've lost, they've become tainted with a 'taste' of sadness. The sun isn't as bright in those memories. There are more clouds in the sky, I'm smaller in those memories.
I try and try to create the belief that friendship is extended family. I try to find those that believe in it, and believe me.
And there are few things one can do to utterly crush me. But when that happens, it is atomic. Once its happened, there's no going back.
Engineering has a simple way to explain it: "Nothing's impossible, but man, have you ever tried getting toothpaste back in the tube?"
When I'm stepped on, its like a new program overwrites some of the older global variables. Your access is denied. You are no longer part of the system. You're not family and you never were.
And since this is my webpage and i can supposedly say what I want, I'm going to be blunt. When I hate someone, I don't hate them for what they did. I hate them for what they've become. I hate their essence. They are percieved as a wrongness. It sets off the same kinds of alarms that 1+1=3 would to a mathematician. And every memory I have of spending time with Jon, from sitting next to him second semester freshmen year at seminar, to winterbreak at nightclub 330 with his grain alcohal punch, is tainted by those final days. Of the warnings by a mutual friend not to go home, because Jon was rounding up TEPs with baseball bats to ambush me. Of the smell of bleach in my appartment as I tried to salvage what wearable items I could from my wardrobe. And of all those thoughts he'd harbored but never said until the very end. They taint the friendship with a 'taste' of betreyal the same way death has saddened some of my memories with friends. It will always come down to what was done and what was said. The why is forgotten, not that it was ever understood in the first place. That is the making of all maliginant hatred.
And that is why I stay mad. That is why I stand by my unwillingness to forgive. I won't pay lip service, because it cheapens the bonds I have with the few people who actually give a flying fuck in return. Having one friend where you're fake over the entire friendship like that is like only beating one son. There are worse alternatives, but it still doesn't make it right.
It makes me think about my parents, and question if they're happy together, living the way they do. Sectioning off parts of the house for the hobbies they don't share. Living their lives on different schedules. The nest is empty. How is suffering through a lifelong commitment any better then breaking a sacrament?
But sometimes I understand that destiny. If Fate is cruel, it will probably be my own. Just thinking about my father wants me to obsessively organize my apartment, stop drinking, and chase money like it was the only skinny chick at a frat party.
But when I calm down and realize writing this has made me late to bed, I comfort myself with the now. So here's to warm beds, and warmer friends, even when the sky is nothing but clouds. Here's to times I can't remember and friends I can't forget. Here's to first hellos and last goodbyes.
"Go Home and Tell everyone that everything's gonna be OK" -- Donnie Darko.
