The blogs haven't come out as often as they used to, I realize, and that is because of papers etc. As Lyndon Johnson might have said about this situation, the blog is my one true love, but I have to spend all my time with that bitch.

Sometimes life can be very frustrating. I feel sometimes I am trapped in a repeating pattern of things, and I don't know how to get out. The same pattern of over-shyness, not meeting enough people, not working hard enough to find my niche, not handling relationships well, and putting things off come up again and again. I should have figured out now how to fix such things or how to make things easier. But often the answers are hard to figure out, and even when I do figure the answers out they are so inexplicably hard for me to get to doing. Sometimes it's just easier for all of us to stay the way we are, but often that isn't what is going to make us happy in the long run.

There is a phrase from the movie Shawshank Redemption that constantly rings in my head these days. I think it was the Morgan Freeman character who said "Get busy living or get busy dying." I think it rings so true these days because I feel like I'm letting valuable time in my life, when I could be having so many great experiences, slip away from me. This feeling is compounded by the fact that I feel like I've lost soo much time already. There have been sooo many moments in my life where I've felt like if I had done things a little differnently things would've been immensely better. I don't want to have any more of those moments. It's really time to change.

Ah Blog how I have neglected you!!

It has been and will be a busy time for me, as I write papers I have put off for far too long. So, I better make this a good entry for those of you looking for procrastination into exam week.

One of the things I really miss is sleepovers. Sure now we may crash at each others places and such, but its really not the same as it used to be, man. A sleepover back when I was 10-15 was an event, it was something to get excited about. The sleepover wasn't obligatory as a result of some other thing, as it is now. It was the very purpose of the visit. I dunno what made such things so cool, or so infinitely better than most visits I had with my friends, but there was clearly something there that made them special.

I think part of the reason was that you got to see your friends in a way that you didn't usually see them. There were little things like being able to rebelliously stay up past 3am playing video games or whatever. There were also somewhat significant things like seeing your friends without all the distractions that usually accompany visits you had with them. When night fell there wasn't any basketball, any school stuff, nor was there the cloud of having to go home soon hanging over your head . When night fell it was just you and them, and sometimes the things that would come out of those visits were just wonderful......

Spring has clearly sprung, and its a lovely time of year (if it weren't for all the freakin work). Now, sitting in my room, the sound of my roomate's fan and the scent of the fresh air wafting through the window really brings back all the wonderful memories that accompany summer nights. There's the wiffleball, the sleepovers, the late night ice cream runs, the movies, the slow lazy walks down suburban streets with your friends. It all comes rushing back to me when I feel and smell all the stuff that goes along with summer.

I always feel wonderful when this time of year comes around again. Late winter is so dead and devoid of the same smells, feelings, and memories. In early winter there are alot of good things that come to mind, like Christmas and all the wonderful snowy memories, but by the time March comes along everything is sad and winter is like an unwanted guest that won't leave. Here's to late April, for kicking that guy out!

Another day...another post...more random commentary/stories

I'm so afraid to act and make the first move (or the second move or the third move) when it comes to people. I never quite got when people wanted to be better friends/hook up/etc. unless it was expressed to me explicitly, and I think it has caused me to miss out on many things and probably still does. I guess I have this irrational fear of being rejected, and am slightly neurotic, Woody Allen style......

Crushes that will never come to fruition suck (cross-apply my earlier post on straight crushes....shit, did I just say "cross-apply").....

Many people that I know have told me that I should write fiction of some sort, some even as a result of this blog dealy. I've tried many times before, but it always comes out contrived/too directed towards some specific idea. I think that's what happens when you take too many writing/english classes. You start to believe that good literature comes from people conveying some coded message through a story. However I don't think thats what it's really about, and I don't care what the authors say afterward. Good stories and good literature are meant to touch people in ways that can't be defined by an essay or anything else, because otherwise they would've just written an essay and told you what they wanted to express rather than beating around the bush.

I also think a big thing I've been missing is honesty. I think it was Mr. Brennan back in high school who said that the reason Hitler never cut it as an artist was because he too much of a coward to expose what was inside of him in his art. Hence, he went on a minority killing and conquering-spree to cover up the demons inside. The point is, when you write or whatever, I think you have to be honest, and the last few times I've tried it I haven't been honest in expressing my feelings through my writing. I think now I finally am confident enough to do such things. So, I think I'll try once more....stay tuned.........

Halloa all

Usually my posts don't just recount that have happened to me over the past few days b/c the events of my life (as with most people I think) are fairly uneventful, however Nats this weekend at Swat was definitely eventful and filled wiht many postable things.

First, it really reminded me why I joined debate in the first place. It was alot of fun, and I got to spend time with many good people. There were lots of quality conversations, drunken hugs, sarcastic rants, and of course random comments like "your hair is awesome!"(to an UMBC debater). To all those who made the weekend awesome for me, you know who you are and I love y'all......

One thing that really touched me was Kevin Grinberg's mentioning of me in his senior speech. I didn't really know him before, but at nats we hung out and talked enough to make me wish he wasn't graduating and that I could see him more in the future. It was really awesome to hear he felt the same way about me.......

Rob Glunt and Adam Bonnifield(I hope I spelled that correctly) made it to final round which made me happy. Even though Rob is evil (so they say), he has always been nice to all of us at BU. I have been a fan of Bonnifield ever since he gave the orgasmic MO in the novice finals at our tournament. Also, he has commented on World of Dennis (a very nice comment as well...if i do say so myself), so that makes me even more of a fan. They also ran the greatest case ever (I say that because I thought of the very same thing a month earlier) and, in my opinion, got robbed in final round....ah well...they are headed for great things next year....

We also saw Burt Reynolds at a Wawa in the Swat area...wow was that surreal.....

It's official, I have become a drinker. I think the true turning point occured when I took swigs of Fireball in GA on Friday as we eternally waited for pairings. This seemed to impress even Cory, who is no slouch in the art of inebriation. I really have no clue how this happened, and how my stauch opposition to such things dropped so quickly. Last semester, I wouldn't touch the stuff. On Friday I found myself giving slurred economic analysis to Mike as to why I shared the Fireball, chastising Bonnifield for reading my blog and sending random IM's but not saying "Hi" in person, hugging sarah/megan/schon/kevin/beth/cat in all my inebriated glory, and telling Emmanuel that I thought he was gay. I'm also fairly impressed at how well I handle the alcohol. I have yet to get a hangover or even feel sick. It must be the Irish blood...

Something that happened today, not at Nationals- Today, I got a pleasant surprise when I went to Expresso Royale to get coffee. I went to pay for my coffee when this cute, gay-looking guy asked me if I wanted a "coffee card". I said sure. He then told me that he had noticed me in here many times, and that he would give me a few back stamps. He then proceded to stamp my entire card and told me: "Come back here and get something delicious...Nothing incentivizes getting a card like free stuff." It was funny, b/c I really don't go in there that often, so it makes me think he was hitting on me. Now, I'll have to use the card strategically. Clearly, I should wait until he's working again and then use it and make a flirty comment of some sort....This sounds just like some sort of movie.

Well I just hit a wall with my paper on the French Revolution...and as I haven't had enough writing....a new blog entry!

I saw Feild of Dreams yesterday at my house, and it was, once again, a really powerful experience. I don't know why it touches me so much. Baseball isn't my favorite sport, I don't have any unresolved issues with my dad, and I certainly don't have a cornfeild in Iowa that talks to me. But for some reason it touches me on a spiritual level, and i always end up bawling like a little girl when I watch it. I think the major point of the movie, besides glorifying baseball, is that there is something out there beyond our understanding and more wonderful than we can imagine.

I really don't know what to make of God or what to believe anymore, but I do feel that there is something out there. I wish there were better answers than we have today, and I wish there was a way to explore the spiritual side of the world without having to deal with religious people. Religious people, especially those associated with my favorite religion...the Catholic one, espouse really scary versions of God/spirituality. Jesus seems like a good guy, but alot of the other stuff would give people the willies. There are things like people being crucified for refusing to deny abstract theological concepts, laws that don't permit people like me to be happy without condemning myself to hell, and of course Jesus coming back when you least expect it and sending lots of people to eternal punishment. It's all very depressing, and frankly far too simple and exact.

I refuse to believe that a God who has presided over a world with 10000 belief systems would set out a code of laws as exact as "don't eat pork" or "Worship me on Sunday." The answer has to be more complex for so many cultures of people to have so many different spins on the thing. I think I love movies like Feild of Dreams b/c they skirt my notion of what God is in the closest way possible without becoming too specific. They tell us to not worry because there is something watchign over us that is benevolent and beautiful.

So, when I was searching for somehing to write about last night, my friend Chris gave me the good idea to write about some really old memories. I had already started writing on something, so I decided to leave it until today...

So let me introduce you to 6th grader Dennis of Holy Family School. He is someone few of you know, and ever fewer remember. He was shy, cripplingly shy. It was a disposition built up and reinforced over many years of being one of the social have nots in the cruel world of grade school. When he talked to people who weren't one of his few friends, it usually inspired ridicule. He wasn't quite certain why....it just did. He was fairly miserable, and he cried alot. But he did it in private, and hid it from others. He didn't think he was gay, but he knew he was different. He loved watching the shirtless guys at basketball practice, and he had no interest in the Playboys some of the other guys smuggled around.

It was this sixth grade Dennis that was invited, along with the rest of his 6th grade class, to a 12th birthday party for Alicia, a girl in his class at HFS. It was going to be at a hall, at night,with music and (gasp!) dancing. You can imagine how he recieved such an invitation. He crumpled it up in his backpack, and didn't want to look at it again.

As fate would have it, his mother found the invitation and told him that she wanted him to go. This time he couldn't hide it; he cried and told her he didn't want to go. He couldn't express how he felt, or why he didn't want to go, because it was too painful. He didn't have to, she knew why he didn't want to go, and though her eyes welled up in tears as well, she still insisted that he go. He went to bed that night, terrified of the party.

When the night came, he felt like a prisoner going to the gallows. He hoped the car ride over would last forever, but, unfortunately for him, it would only last the usual 5 minutes. As he saw the hall getting closer, slightly lit up in the cold winter/early spring night, he became sick to his stomach. Inevitably the car stopped in fron of the hall, and he was let out. He went up the stairs, took a deep breath, and entered...

Inside it was not quite as horrible as he had imagined. There seemed to be alot of people in the same boat, not knowing what to do at such an odd event, where the lights were turned down and slow music was playing. He got comfortable, and even started to talk with people. When people started to dance though, he got uncomfortable again. He didn't quite know what to do or how to handle things. He mainly just tried to pass the time as best he could without any major disasters.

A group of guys saw him, and insisted that he dance wth Alicia. He smiled nervously, but they wouldn't take "no" for an answer. As a song slowed down and she was standing by herself, they pushed him towards her. She looked up, smiled, and they started dancing. He really couldn't believe it. It all seemed very unreal and unexpected. For him, the song seemed to last for hours. He was filled with excitement. It wasn't a sexual thing, it was the idea that SHE would dance with HIM that made it so electrifying for him. He had thought that nobody would ever want to do such a thing.

That night when he went home, he told his parents he had a good time. He went upstairs and laid down on his bed. He just stayed there awake for many minutes, drenched in a happy feeling he had never known before.

Well I am in a writing mood again, so here goes.


So as you go along in life your goals become much humbler. When I was a kid I really wanted to be something extraordinary. I wanted to have a real impact on the world, and be one of those people you remember in history books. However, now that I am met with reality, I have come to forget such goals. My life isn't about making a serious impact, that's far too big. I just want to end up in a situation where people respect my ability, where I can pay my bills and put a roof over my own head, and where there are some people who love me.

Those are modest goals compared with the image I had of myself in high school/grade school. That Dennis was going to storm the barracades for what's right. He was going to be a senator or a congressman...the one that would finally do things the way they should be done, with no corruption or anything. He was going to be a rebel, a leader, a fighter.

As the years have gone by, this image of myself has faded away. I've come to realize that what's right isn't always clear. I don't feel very strongly about much in politics and society these days. What I feel in my gut to be the right thing to do always seems so dangerous, and what my mind tells me is probably the best, my heart refuses to accept. I've also come to realize how difficult things really are, and how the problems of the world aren't totally caused by the corruption in Washington. Finally, I've come to realize how much corruption there actually IS in Washington, and how we'll be hard pressed to change such things, even if we all made a concerted effort.

As I've gotten older, I've also come to recognize that, in general, what the polticians in Washington or Boston do rarely affects my life in a significant way (exception...Gay Marriage...which is why I still do really feel strongly about that issue). Personal happiness is rarely given to people by a political movement except in extraordinary cases. Where the vast majority of people have their impact is not on the public stage, but in the interactions of their everyday lives.

I guess that means that my dream of changing people's lives has not really changed, but rather it has matured. I still wish to be remembered, but not by the history books or by the general populace...who cares what the public thinks after all...they are usually morons as a collective and bad judges of character. I want to be remembered by individuals. I want someone to think so highly of me that they name one of their kids after me. I want people to think back at who I was when they knew me and smile or desire to give me a call. I want to feel like I truly love and understand someone, and I want someone to feel the same about me....hopefully the same person.