5 years

Today marks the 5th anniversary of the death of my oldest brother
Today marks the 4th anniversary of my grandfather passing away, it's also been 4 years since I lost the hearing in one of my ears.

I know it's late and I shouldn't be thinking but I feel robbed. There are also a few people I want to say, "fuck you" to, well... I guess that'd be repetitive since I already did that earlier today.

In other news, I'm making more friends, my therapist is pleased with that. Bad news is that I'm already sabotaging some of those friendships. Well... you win some, lose some I guess.

I love Samantha Stevens... For the first time in a while I felt like I really laughed while talking with her tonight. It was quite refreshing.

that is all.

Did all my best to smile...

In five days it will be my brother, Ben’s, birthday again. He died almost five years ago, one month exactly after his 27th birthday. I’ve written about this relentlessly: the condition in which we found his body, the drug use that led to his death, his wonderfully supportive boyfriend, and how much I love and miss him.

The day after he passed away, we went through his cell’s phonebook and told his friends. My mother called one of his best friend’s from high school. I remember her and my brother hanging out when I was young, they even took me to Chuck-E-Cheese once. I barely remembered anything else about her except that she won a few local beauty pageants with her vocal talents. When my mom told her that he had passed away, she asked if she could sing a song at his funeral. My brother, when he was in high school, tried to kill himself, and had told her that he wanted her to sing a song from Cocteau Twins’ album This Mortal Coil called Song to the Siren.

Ben burned me an essential 80’s music CD and that song was on there. I had loved it for a few years previous, and now it signified his death. After his funeral, in an attempt to stay connected to him, I printed the lyrics out and put them in my locker at school. I’ve sort of forgotten about the song until a few months ago and I couldn’t remember the title of it.

Anyway, I finally remembered the title of the song, found the lyrics and found a video on youtube. I guess I just wanted to share it with everyone. The video kind of sucks, but there isn’t much out there from the early 80’s.



Long afloat on shipless oceans
I did all my best to smile
'Til your singing eyes and fingers
Drew me loving to your isle

And you sang, 'Sail to me, sail to me, let me enfold you.
Here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you.'

Did I dream, you dreamt about me?
Were you hare when I was fox?
Now my foolish boat is leaning
Broken lovelorn on your rocks

For you sing, 'Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow:
O my heart, O my heart shies from the sorrow.'

Well, I'm as puzzled as the newborn child
I'm as riddled as the tide:
Should I stand amid the breakers?
Or should I lie with death my bride?

Hear me sing, 'Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you:
Here I am, here I am waiting to hold you.'

oh what a week

It's been a crazy week. So many things are changing, a few things are going against me, but most aren't. I have incredible, supportive friends that I know love me. Samantha, my roommates (they tolerate my messiness and crazier-than-a-shit-house-rat demeanor far too well) My parents care for me [I'm believing this for the first time since I came out to them]

People I work with sensed that things were up and were willing to give me a hug, old friends have come out of the woodwork and wanted to hang out. I went to lunch with Stephalumpagus yesterday and I had so much fun. I was actually smiling I loved it.

I have made a few friends at school. There is the most beautiful girl in my religion class and we help each other survive that class so far.

anyway, i'm about 45 minutes late for church, I just felt the need to post some things that I've been feeling the last few days.

so... thanks... :)

no where else to turn

I have been having troubles eating lately. Usually I can just force myself to eat some healthier foods, but today I had a can of Dr. Pepper, a half slice of bread with vinegar, and about 1 cup of a protein shake that my roommate made (thank you, by the way) I can't do it anymore. There used to be people I could be with and I would want to eat. That hasn't happened lately. Relationships are causing me such extraordinary stress right now I don't know how to handle it.

I'm just...

I don't want to do this anymore.

What I Want for Christmas

I have spent so much freaking money the past two months. It's scary. I'm actually surprised I still have money in my checking account. I mean, there was the trip to central america, shopping in LA with Max Power, my new Ipod (therapist told me to buy it... that's the story I'm sticking to) and also the gifts for people... but I found something else I want.






I'm not a huge fan of her art, well, most mainstream LDS artists, but I love this one.

another SMBC-Comic

as simple of an equation as that is, I still don't get it.

I tried

It's late, I know I shouldn't be up this late trying to write what's going on in my life.

But I can't do it. It makes me so sad, I won't.

I'm scared of what it might mean, how long have I been living on a lie?

Too fucking long.

I'm home.

Er, I've been back for a week or so, I have no excuse for not blogging...

I don't have much to say, other than If I were more cognizant in the 80's I would have gone straight for Pat Benatar.

Anyway kids, I'm headed on vacation for a week and a half.

I might post pictures when I get back.

woot.

I miss the New Kid. A lot.

damn missions.

Yet another SMBC-Comic woot.

Hmmm

So, I went to see Therapist today, and it kind of sucked. I know it doesn't seem like it on my blog, but I really do hate talking about my problems. So, the point of this post is to say that I'm kind of sad, I want to kick and scream and say that it isn't fair, and that I really wish it would be all better and okay. Maybe sometime soon, right? I certainly hope so.

anyway, almost time for the Matis FHE. This one should be interesting.

show me the stars

I went to visit Samantha this last weekend and I had an incredible time. A misquoting GA glowered at us in church while we played with Transformers, we ate artichokes, drank hot chocolate, and she even played the piano for me. It was incredible escaping into the beautiful world of the Queen.

The drive was excellent: radio blasting Rihanna, David Sedaris and David Rakoff books on Ipod, and the company couldn’t have been better. When I got home on Sunday I noticed that I was feeling nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s been awhile since I was shut-off emotionally, and I wasn't sure what was going on at first. I decided to watch Beyond the Gates to see if I really was dead inside. While I was sitting there realizing I was actually dead inside, the person next to me on the sofa had tears streaming down his face. I don’t understand crying.

Thinking that this was probably a bad place for me to be in, given my history of exceptional emotional eruptions when I begin to feel again, I decided it necessary to get back to that "feeling" thing again as soon as possible. I notified one of my roommates what was going on and we talked for a little while. He mostly talked while I listened. After a few minutes I started getting a little nauseas from the anxiety of denying the cut and run impulse that was racing through me. I excused myself, acknowledging that leaving was probably the best thing to do in that situation.

Monday morning brought no change in feeling. I was called, “bitchy” by one roommate, then another said, “I would’ve actually said cunty.” Lovely. I sent a few emails to people explaining my current situation the best I could, their responses which were all slightly negative made me question why I actually work hard at continuing friendship thing. But there has to be a reason, or, at least that's what people tell me.

The roommate I spoke with previously about my case of emotional void came home from work and asked if I was still not feeling. I responded in the negative and he replied, “It’s kind of obvious.”

I went to go to a yoga class.

During the practice I was getting really angry. Anger was good, right? At least it was a feeling. I knew it wasn’t going to last long. Getting home from yoga, I talked to the roommate that asked about my non-emotional state. We talked some more in my room and it was nice, I began feeling something again.

Waking up today I examined the feelings thing again. I was feeling the very limited range of emotions I was feeling the night before as I was talking with my roommate. Not bad. Not bad at all.

When I came home from work today I started feeling sad. I think it’s a good thing, but it still sucks ass, and not in that hot-porn-star-kind-of-way either.

After thinking about the cut and run impulse I have, which Ward (RIP) lovingly called a “character deficiency,” come to the conclusion that I don’t want to be alone, I just want to be understood and be with a good friend. I’ve been thinking I’m at the point where it’d be nice to have someone that knows what’s going on inside of me, willing to be near me when I’m feeling like this and just letting me be with them. It would be nice to know that I’m not hurting them or ruining their lives by being in their company, or to have them hurt when my initial reaction to being around them is to jump out a second story window.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Excuse me, would you like some Sheri Dew with that?

I did something today I never thought I would do, and my first thought was that I wish I had worn sexier underwear.

While I was at work I was in the back stockroom finishing up one project, and getting ready to leave. I was wearing my favorite pair of worn–in corduroys, an old pair of Doc Martins and a clearance Lands End button up (read: AtP’s straight man ensemble) I had just noticed some dirt that got on my shirt from moving pictures around as I bent down to grab a stack of The Ark by Michael McLean then heard a small sound coming from behind me. Not being used to the sound of splitting fabric, I thought it was, at first, an odd squeak emanating from the shoes I rarely wear. That was until I bent to the side to look for some more books, heard the same noise, only louder this time and noticed that my pants seemed freer than they had only moments before.

There I was, in the back of God’s Bookstore, completely dismayed by the fact I was wearing pants that shamelessly displayed my rather plain underclothing to the world. Surrounded by stacks of boxed pictures, discounted books by Robert Millet, and Christmas ornaments, the only thought I had is that I wish I had worn something other than Haines. Gaining enough composure to quickly finish the project I was working on, I dismissed myself with a small explanation and went home to my apartment.

I’m still slightly puzzled as to the actual mechanics of pant splittage in my certain circumstance. I mean… I am me after all. To those of you who actually know me can attest to the fact that I am ridiculously thin. Honestly, you couldn’t even tell that I had a backside when I wore those pants.

Hmmm it’s too late to think about how it happened because the only explanation I could come up with was that God was bored and wanted a good chuckle from one of His employees.

if you run, run fast.

This is the third intro to a post I’ve written in the last thirty minutes. I’ve deleted everything else because it would only cause a commotion, just take up unnecessary space, and waste your time and mine.

I’m scared that all the planning, analyzing, and the general amount of work that I’ve done the last few months is being taken away from me. I can almost feel some person robbing me of everything that I thought I had built up to protect me. I am now alone with my feelings and it’s terrifyingly daunting.

Keeping myself seemingly stable is taking up a rather large portion of energy, I stay away more than I used to. If I were to stay in most of the social situations I find myself in, I would say some incredibly hurtful things and definitely damage more relationships than I would by steering clear of company.

I need to talk to therapist about the dead brother. I ended up going taking a box of his pictures and books to my apartment and going through them with a friend on Saturday night. After getting to the bottom of the box, I felt hungry. It doesn’t make sense to me but I was happy I wanted to eat something.

winter winter spring

I don't want to write about why I have been feeling so on edge lately

I don't want to revisit the memories of the last week and share them with the world

I don't want to write about how I haven't been able to eat well for the last week

or how sad, I am

or how frustrated, I am.

No. I won't do it. I can't.

Watching the Sky

Sometimes I miss my brother, a lot.