In Lines Of Sharp Sincerity

A plea for peace. I want to be more than this.

Sun, 30 Dec 2007 22:33:07 GMT

An open letter to whoever is interested enough to read my LiveJournal:

Last night I got home from the Lucky Boys Confusion concert at the Metro, and I was pretty sloshed. However, I was also surprisingly lucid. I had the urge to light up a cigarette, as I usually do right before bed, but I ignored it. It's bad for me (duh), I don't have a ton of spare cash, and as someone very pointedly noted recently, it's ruining my singing voice.

I know what you're thinking. At least, I think you do. Hopefully you're wrong.

I imagine this letter being interpreted initially as thus: Butler sees it and snorts in disgust, expecting another furious diatribe. Stacey sees it and sighs in exasperation, dreading more "drama." Miller sees it and tenses up, already thinking of how to work damage control. Chronister sees it, reads the whole thing thoughtfully, and concludes that it's all a coded message proving that he is, in fact, Batman. If you're still reading, let me assure you that nothing could be further from the truth (although Andrew might actually be Batman). This is intended to be the end of all drama; the point where damage control is no longer necessary. And it's not a diatribe, either; I'm so sick of writing those. This is an open, sincere, honest expression of how I feel. This is a heartfelt effort to be mature on the part of a guy who is, admittedly, very immature.

I have a lot of growing up to do. I think we all do, honestly. I'm ready to start NOW.

It's time I just put out in the open what everybody already knows: there is a nasty situation between myself and Laura Butler. Furthermore, it has affected everybody who possibly considered themselves my friend, or hers. I was friends with Laura for something like five years, and then I was her boyfriend for almost a year, and when we broke up, it was fucking VIOLENT. Part of this is because both of us were dealing with extreme mental and emotional trauma - for me, a battle with crippling depression and suicidal thoughts; for her, the tragic and devastating loss of her father. The other reason it was so violent is, I like to think, this: ours was an intense, passionate relationship. That's what made it so fantastic when it was good, and that's what made it so damn sour when it was bad. She may have a different view of things, but that's mine. In any case, it's been nothing but messy since then, which you can likely attribute to the above reasons. It's also been messy for the people who have decided to be my friends and confidants, and for the people who have been hers. And it's led, inexorably, to the situation at hand: the annual New Year's Eve party had to be planned and populated without my knowledge and without my presence, so as to avoid any potential outbursts, drama, fights, or whatever. I've done a lot thinking, and this is what I've come up with. Bear with me, please.

I've often referred to my friends from high school as being a kind of "family." In my limited experience, family means something. You fight for it because you value it. Well, don't some say that your friends (if they really ARE your friends) are the family you choose? Wouldn't that make you that much more obligated to them? Wouldn't it make you feel like your relationships with your friends - your real friends - are worth that much more? I think so, anyway. Which is why the New Year's thing hurt so much. I realize that people feel like putting me and Laura in a room together is like smoking next to a propane tank, and I'm willing to take a huge chunk of the blame for that. It would have been nice if someone had at least told me what was going on and why I wasn't invited, so that I'd have an opportunity to make alternate plans. And I could make alternate plans, if I so chose. But the thing is, I've spent every New Year's Eve with the same group of friends (although certain individuals have come and gone) since I was a sophomore at Fenwick. Why would I want to spend it with anyone else?

I was angry at first - really fucking angry, as you all know only I can get. My anger is legendary with friends and family, and I think part of me growing up has to be me putting that aside. Later I was depressed; how could I deal with the fact that on the biggest party night of winter break, everyone I enjoy hanging out with would be someplace where I wasn't welcome? But I'm not angry anymore, and I'm not depressed anymore. I'm disappointed - disappointed that things came to this. I truly didn't want this, and I hope no one else did either.

To Stacey: I'm sorry about schizing out at your mom's last summer. Really I am. The only thing I can offer in my defense is that I was very sick at the time, and that I'm doing much better now. That's what my parents, my therapist, my psychiatrist, and many of my friends seem to think, anyhow. So I can understand your apprehension about my presence on New Year's Eve. I also understand your mom's concern - I remember when my mother would get leery every time my sister would have Jenny Giger over, before she got help. I'm also sorry I got so pissed off about this, although I hope you can appreciate my feeling embarassed about being excluded. In any case, I understand where you're coming from, and I don't have any hard feelings toward you. Not anymore.

To Laura: I completely apologize for sniping at you on LiveJournal these past few weeks. I'm at a point now where I can admit that it was stupid, petty, juvenile, and entirely my fault. I regret treating you like that. Look, we will in all likelihood never be friends again. Hell, we might dislike each other for the rest of our lives. But I'm tired of hating people, and I've come to the conclusion that not being friends with someone does not necessarily mean that you have to be enemies. Even if I'm never your friend again, I don't want to be your enemy anymore. So from now on I'm adopting a sincere "ceasefire" attitude toward you. Live and let live, if you will. If you want to take the same attitude towards me, I think that's fantastic and a big step towards clearing the air. If you think I can go to hell, well, I certainly wouldn't be the one to change your mind. But I'm so, so, so done with fighting, feuding, and hating. I'm putting my guns down for good, and I hope you'll be good enough to do the same. With some maturity and a little luck, we won't ever have to (or want to) attack each other ever again.

To everyone else who might read this: As I said before, I feel so bad things have turned out the way they did. A problem that should have remained between me and another person has become more public than I ever wanted, and you've all been more personally involved in it that you should have been. I don't think the blame is 100% mine, but I know that a large part of it is, and I'm owning up to it right here and now.

So what's the point of all of this? Clearly, relationships change over time. Our friendships, romantic relationships, and just simple social attitudes evolve because of events, experiences, and entropy - sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. My relationships with the people I've referred to since high school as "My Friends" or "The Group" are completely different now than they were four years ago, or even four months ago. For the most part, matters are worse. But I don't think the situation is irredeemable.

What I want is a new status quo. A social state of being where my relationships with my friends are not defined at all by my illness or by the breakup. Where Laura and I can coexist and be civil, even if we don't like each other at all, and even if everybody knows that. Where my friends don't have to be put in the uncomfortable position of having to act like the children of a bad divorce, constantly on edge and pressured to choose sides because Mommy and Daddy can't get along. Where NOBODY (including me) has to hate, lie to, or hold a grudge toward the people they care about. Because I do care about you guys, even though I have a crappy way of showing it. And at some point or another, you've all told me you cared about me and considered me a good friend. If any of you think differently now, maybe we've come to a parting of the ways. But I don't think that has to be the case. Things are different now - no one can argue with that, and no one can change it. Still, I'm through being selfish, and I'm going to start approaching everyone and everything with sincerity and maturity instead of bitterness and ill will.

That's my conclusion. I'm going into this new year with confidence and, more importantly, hope. I'm going to do everything I can to demonstrate that my friends and general peace of mind are worth infinitely more to me than breakups, heartbreaks, or vendettas. If you think that this is simply more bullshit from the admitted King of Bullshit, you're entitled to your opinion, and I've certainly given you ample reason to feel that way. But I can't clear up all this shit on my own, and it would mean a lot if people were willing to help me do it. I'll leave this letter up for a week or so, and then I think I'll delete this account and get a new one. I find LiveJournal to be a valuable tool, but this account reeks of vindictiveness and mistreated friends. I don't want that anymore.

No more anger, no more tension, no more bad blood. Hope. That's what I want.

Cheers, all. Happy New Year.

- Ian

Oh, Pooh. You fucking bear.

Thu, 27 Dec 2007 23:35:58 GMT

Scattershot Points of Interest:
- Benazir Bhutto was assassinated today. For those who aren't current events/poli-sci geeks (which might well be everyone reading this but me), she was the former prime minister of Pakistan. While not without her faults (is there such thing as a pure politician?), she did a lot for the progressive movement in Pakistan, especially in the area of women's rights. She was also a moderate counterpoint to military-coup-leader-turned-President Musharraf, a guy who is far from either progressive or moderate. This is the guy that kept his country in a state of martial law some weeks ago, and is supported by the U.S. government for pretty much no other reason than the fact that he's OK with us being Iraq. Stellar. Anyway, hearing about the Bhutto assassination and how it will likely increase violence and chaos in Pakistan got me a-thinkin'. Why are people so resistant to the idea of peace? It's supposed to be this great goal that humanity is constantly striving for, and yet even today, after everything that's happened in our history (re: all the bloody conflicts leading up to and following the supposed "War To End All Wars"), there's still people that would much rather kill than coexist. Whether it's the Burmese people getting gunned down by their own government, or rationalizing a growing civil war as an "experiment in democracy," or some idiot blowing himself up to kill one woman (taking out many others in the process), it's like we still don't get it. Not a very good showing on the part of the human race; we never seem to learn anything. A pretty cynical thought, but there you go.
- Q101's been doing their "15 Years in 15 Days" countdown recently. At first, this was a good thing. I'd get in the car after a long day at work and hear Oasis, RHCP, Green Day, and Weezer all in a row. Beautiful. And then, something went terribly wrong: we got to the early 2000s. Listening to Q101 the last couple of days, I couldn't believe I never realized what a horrible period 2002-2003 was for alternative music. As evidence, I cite the following: Puddle of Mudd, Hoobastank, Nickelback, Jack Johnson, Coldplay, Seether, Default, Disturbed, Smile Empty Soul, Dave Matthews, Godsmack, Creed (I cringe just writing it), and others that I had obviously burned out of my memory. Now, if you're a fan of nu metal, "alternative" singer-songwriters, Coldplay (and I know I that some of my nearest and dearest are Coldplay fans - sorry guys!), or Scott Stapp (yes, he sucks so much that he is his own shitty genre), I don't mean to impugn your taste in music. And even if I do, hopefully you can take it in stride. What's really staggering is the total lack of variety in sound that I've heard over the last couple days. Was popular music really that... boring... in 2002 and 2003? There were a few bright spots today, among them Radiohead, singles from AFI's Sing The Sorrow, and the resurgent Jane's Addiction (the reason why I am currently listening to said band on my computer), but still, I can't believe alternative rock was so bland when I was in high school. Maybe that's the reason I pretty much only listened to Metallica, Nirvana, Oasis, and Green Day until junior/senior year. Goddamnit, I wish I hadn't lost my iTrip.
- Side note: hearing Godsmack had one redeeming quality, as it reminded me of seeing Metallica in '04 (they were the opener). Still, it also reminded me of their ridiculous double-drum-kit setup during that opening set. Sheesh.
- Other side note: Q101 has also been annoying me by constantly advertising the new American Pie movie (direct to DVD... what a shocker). Isn't it almost 2008? STOP MAKING THESE MOVIES. Please.
- I think I'm going to give Ian's Rock-Off another shot. I know I never finish it, but I swear I will this time. Maybe.
- That's all I've got. Wait... no, that's it.

Yule shoot your eye out.

Wed, 26 Dec 2007 04:23:22 GMT

These are your good years; don't take my advice
You never wanted the nice boys anyway
And I'm of good cheer, 'cause I've been checking my list
The gifts you're receiving from me will be:
One awkward silence
And two hopes you'll cry yourself to sleep staying up, waiting by the phone
And all I want this year is for you to dedicate your last breath to me before you bury yourself alive

Don't come home for Christmas
You're the last thing I want to see underneath the tree
Merry Christmas; I could care less

Happy New Year's, baby
You owe me the best gift I will ever ask for:
Don't call me up when the snow comes down
That's the only thing I want this year...
One awkward silence
And two hopes you'll cry yourself to sleep staying up, waiting by the phone
And all I want this year is for you to dedicate your last breath to me before you bury yourself alive

Don't come home for Christmas
You're the last thing I want to see underneath the tree
Merry Christmas; I could care less

...

If only.

For all the rest of you - Merry Christmas!

Play it again, Max!

Sat, 22 Dec 2007 07:45:01 GMT

Have at thee, false Christ! God damn you!
Have at thee, apathy! I'm free!

...

Saying it like only Say Anything can.

Art imitates life.

Fri, 30 Nov 2007 05:23:52 GMT

"All you need is love, love... love is all you need."
- The Beatles

"Love will tear us apart again."
- Joy Division.

I could have used any number of song lyrics for either of those quotes, to demonstrate the dichotomy I was going for. These were just the first that came to mind. But if you think about it, aren't they both true? And isn't it profound how it's been illustrated, over and over again, in music?

Life is beautiful. Also, life really sucks. Your thoughts?

Information superhighway? More like information super-fuck-me-in-the-ass...

Wed, 28 Nov 2007 03:02:07 GMT

... Bar and Grill.

I'm now at war with the Internet. Seriously. The DSL at my parents' house goes out every 45 seconds, AIM continues to tell me that my connection is "timed out," and I can't find decent porn anywhere these days (just kidding, maybe). My conclusion: the Internet is out to get me. This isn't the first time I've irrationally accused someone or something of having a personal vendetta against me (see: Carson Daly, conservative talk radio, the State of Illinois, etc.), but as Kurt Cobain said, "just because you're paranoid, don't mean they're not after you." Therefore, I've concluded that the Internet is personally trying to fuck me, Ian Watts, over. Having just watched The Matrix and the Terminator movies, I think this might be the first signs of the inevitable machine uprising. Either that, or maybe Chuck Klosterman was right when he said that guys are more inclined than girls to hate things that can't hate them back - like the Internet, or the State of Illinois.

As an aside, I've recently been spending my time trying to spread the use of "verbing." For those of you not in the know, verbing is the transformation of a non-verb into a verb. You can even verb the word "verb" - to make something a verb, you just verb it. As such, where I used to play guitar, I now spend my time "guitaring." I no longer sit on couches; instead, I enjoy "couching." I've already got my 14-year-old sister verbing up a storm. I think you should all do the same.

That concludes this inane (but hopefully entertaining) LiveJournal entry. You may continue studying, while I continue to spend my semester off computering and couching.

Oh, and I have a new song on MySpace. If you're bored or drunk, check it out.

Brush me dead.

Tue, 20 Nov 2007 02:01:45 GMT

The music video for "Love Me Dead" by Ludo.

http://www.youtube.com/theludovideothing

Awesome. Just... just awesome.

My Diagnosis

Sun, 04 Nov 2007 06:57:49 GMT

can·cer [kan-ser] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –noun, genitive Can·cri [kang-kree] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation for 3.

Pathology.

a.	a malignant and invasive growth or tumor, esp. one originating in epithelium, tending to recur after excision and to metastasize to other sites.

b.	any disease characterized by such growths.

2.	any evil condition or thing that spreads destructively; blight.

3.	(initial capital letter) Astronomy. the Crab, a zodiacal constellation between Gemini and Leo.

(initial capital letter) Astrology.

a.	the fourth sign of the zodiac: the cardinal water sign.

b.	a person born under this sign, usually between June 21 and July 22.

5.	(initial capital letter) tropic of. See under tropic (def. 1a).

This courtesy of Dictionary.com. And in regards to number (4), I'm a Libra.

Malignant. Invasive. Blight.

Most people have a cursory knowledge of what a cancer is. It's a growth of malignant cells that metastasizes inside a living organism which, if left untreated, continues to grow and spread to other organs in the body. The outcome of an untreated cancer is, of course, death for the afflicted organism. Therefore, once a cancer has run its course, it dies along with its host. If one undergoes treatment, the hopeful result is that the cancerous cells will go into remission or die entirely. From this perspective, the very purpose of a cancer is to eventually die, either through medical means or through the death of the host.

Sound familiar?

I've felt sort of lost for the last few months. Now, I feel refreshed, almost jubilant. I have an identity. I've done a wonderful job of performance art in the last few months. Imagine me, sitting in a chair wearing only my shorts, handcuffed and surrounded by a team of Milwaukee police offers. A few yards away, in the kitchen, is the knife that would have (should have) opened my wrists if not for a halfwit's 911 call. Imagine me forcibly held down against a bed in Michigan, pretending to fall asleep so that the people holding me will relax so I can put my head through the glass window only two feet away. Imagine me lying facedown on the floor, covered in bruises from fighting my asshole roommates, my pants drenched in my own urine. This is performance art: I continue to find new ways to illustrate to the world what "Rock Bottom" means.

In the meantime, I amuse myself by burning bridges. Burning them and laughing as they burn, cutting ties with sycophantic false friends and hoping only that I cause them as much damage as possible before I never see them again. Using my words and my fists to hurt as much as I can, my only intention to leave cuts and scars on other people before my inevitable self-destruction.

I am a cancer. Treated or untreated, with others or alone, I will destroy myself. But I have demonstrated the will and capacity to cause pain to others as an outlet of my downward spiral.

I am a cancer. For your own sake, separate yourself from me, because otherwise I will only fill your life with poison. Cut me out, burn me, radiate me, because unlike other cancers, I will never go into remission. Root me out like you would a cancer, because my very purpose on this Earth is to destroy myself.

The cops ALWAYS started it.

Wed, 31 Oct 2007 19:35:14 GMT

Been reading a book by Henry Rollins lately, and I found a lot of his writing to be pretty poignant. Thought I'd post some works that are of particular interest to me. Here's one I thought was especially relevant, and not just because I work at an ice cream store:

        "It's cold here, cold and raining. It's August but it feels like October. Even the air smells like autumn. Autumn time makes me think of working at the ice cream store in Washington, DC. I lived in this really dingy apartment in the fall of 1980, and I used to avoid it as much as possible. I would do this by hanging out on the street and working extra shifts at the ice cream store. I would spend a lot of time alone. While my car still worked, I would go for drives at night with all the windows open, just to have the cold air wash over me. I would drive through different neighborhoods in NW just to clear my head. I later stopped driving as much because I started to enjoy walking more.
        "I would go for long walks by myself. That made me feel old, getting enjoyment from going for walks by myself. I'll never forget how the autumn air smelled that year. I spent a lot of time out and around because I only used the apartment as a last resort. At the time it seemed that everything frustrated me. I would work behind the counter at the ice cream store, and the customers would just wear me down. I would take orders all day long. I felt like an old shirt going through the laundry over and over. By the end of the shift I was burned out on people, their talk and their bullshit. The walks did me good. It was great to be outside when the air was clear and cool. Everything looked good.
        "Sometimes I would get invited to a party or to go out to dinner and I would decline. Part of me wanted to go, but those kind of outings always made me feel even more alienated than usual. Hearing them talk made me feel lonely and hateful at the same time. Lonely because I didn't fit in, never did. When I was reminded, it hurt. And hateful because it reaffirmed what I already knew, that I was alone and the outside.
        "I spent a lot of time feeling alienated and lonely. But with all of that also came a real solid feeling of independence. I came to enjoy eating alone and spending my off time for the most part alone. I was walking down the streets here today, cloudy sky, on-and-off drizzle, and it all came back to me in waves, perfectly structured memories. That was the autumn I remember most clearly. I was no longer in school, and it was a strange feeling for it to be autumn and for me not to be sitting behind a desk. I was more aware of each day and each night and all the time in between. Sometimes I miss that way of life. I enjoyed the nights at the ice cream store. A place to be doing something that wasn't the apartment. I would walk home slowly, enjoying the street lamps, smelling the cold air. The apartment was like a prison cell. I felt like kicking myself every time I slept late. It was a long walk to Georgetown, but I knew the sooner I got out of that apartment, the better. Damn, I was lonely that autumn. I wished for a girl I could hang out with. I never really did anything to meet girls; too shy, too fucked up. Autumn makes me think of women.
       "At the ice cream store I would get one or two days off a week. But as I took on more responsibility at the store, the days off increased to almost none. That autumn I almost always got Friday nights off. Friday is my favorite day of the week. Friday was either spent walking around until I got tired or spent at Mike's or Chris's house. We would sit around, drink Cokes, and play a lot of records. That became one of my favorite memories.
       "I'll never forget how the depression and loneliness felt good and bad at the same time. Still does. The sidewalks, the trees, the storefronts. they became my friends. Every time I would pass a house that had a wood-burning fire, I would try to imagine what the people inside were doing. Sometimes I felt so outside of everything that I wanted to die. I felt terrible, but then out of nowhere would come an overwhelming wave of relief and calm. It was my life! My depression! Good for me! The air and the leaves and the streetlights would smile at me and I would feel okay. I realized that autumn that yes, I was alone this world, totally alone. Alone and on the outside, but at the same time I wasn't alone, I had myself. I was always alone as a child growing up, but this was the first time that I ever clicked on what it meant to be alone. I felt invincible. I felt as if I could withstand the longest winter ever.
       "I feel uneasy when my mind gets crowded with memories that I can't shake. I write them out of my system and hope it works. I run breathlessly from one work to the next. Sometimes I think I'm dissecting my brain into little pieces. When I'm forced into a frame of mind and time by outside elements such as season or geographical location, it drives me nuts. I feel I have to write a telephone directory-sized book to get it out of me.
       "Nothing gets me like autumn, though, nothing. I can see myself walking down P Street right now, I can feel it. I can smell the fireplaces on O Street right now. I can see the street lamps glow on R Street. But at the same time, I can feel the consuming emptiness that paralyzed me and made me sullen and cold. I can remember sitting in that dark apartment that reeked of paint and insecticide, wanting out so bad but not having the slightest fucking idea where to go. Every time the air turns cold, I am transported back to all those places. I have visions of the fluorescent glow of the ice cream store when it's observed from the People's Drug Store across the street. The place looks busy and cheerful. A lit glass cube in a dark, cold wall. It makes me feel like I'm watching the world from the outside. Walking the streets on the outskirts of earth. Alone and on the outside."

- Henry Rollins, Pissing in the Gene Pool

A surprisingly acute outside perspective.

Mon, 29 Oct 2007 21:28:27 GMT

Thought I'd sit down today and write about where I am - spiritually... ecumenically... grammatically...

But I'm not feeling that creative. However, the band Against Me! must be following me around, as the lyrics to "Thrash Unreal" seem to hit fairly close to home. Maybe I'll just post them, with a few minor adjustments. Tacky? You bet. Enjoyable? Hell yes.

If I want to dance and drink all night, then there's no one that can stop me.
I'm going until the house lights come up or my stomach spills onto the floor.
This night is gonna end when I'm damn well ready for it to be over.
Worked all week long, now the music is playing on my time.
I do what I do to get by, and then I need a release.

I got mixed up with the wrong girls, I got mixed up with the wrong drugs.
Sometimes the party takes me places that I really didn't plan on going.
When people see the burn marks on my arm, I know what they're thinking.
I keep working for that minimum, as if being a college dropout offered any other options.
They don't know nothing about redemption, they don't know nothing about recovery.
Some people just ain't the type for friends and family.

No mother ever dreams that her son could grow up to be a junkie.
No mother ever dreams that her son could grow up to sleep alone.

I'm out of step with the style, I don't know where the action's happening.
You know the binge-and-black-out scene ain't nothing like it used to be.
You reach a point in when there's not a lie in the world that you could use to make the girls believe you're worth all the headaches.
I'm not waiting for them to come over and ask for the privilege.
I can still hear the Rebel Yell just as loud as it was in 2006.
There ain't nobody coming home to share a bed with me, and I don't care.

No mother ever dreams that her son could grow up to be a junkie.
No mother ever dreams that her son could grow up to sleep alone.

If I had to live it all over again, you know I wouldn't change anything for the world.

Fri, 07 Sep 2007 00:23:59 GMT

I thought July 12 was the worst day of my life. I was wrong.
Every day since then has been worse than the last.
Someone told me not so long ago that "you can't always get what you want." They were right. I wanted to live.
This life is not worth living.
Goodbye.

Give me a reason to end this discussion...

Fri, 24 Aug 2007 01:48:26 GMT

... to break with tradition, to fall and divide.

Good Things: I recorded my first song today. It was a little rough and the guitar sounds kind of weak, but at least I felt like I accomplished something. Riley's going to let me come back a few times before I (possibly) go back to school this weekend, so I can get more of this done. I'm also writing like a fiend, which is nice. It's good to be productive.

Bad Things: I got shut down by Loyola's Rome Center today. Actually, it's complicated. I got accepted, but because of the nature of the exchange program, Marquette can only send five students this semester. I was Acceptee #6. Son of a bitch. This is really going to eat at me, for a few reasons. (1) I was dying to go. The program sounds awesome, and I'd actually be with people I know instead of having to make new friends for a few months. (2) I kind of put all my eggs in one basket on this one. John Cabot (in Rome) and NUI Galway (Ireland) are still options, but they're not what I want, and it might be too late now for me to do anything. Thus, while other people are out having the experience of a lifetime, I'll be stuck in fucking Milwaukee. In the winter. (3) Getting the notice on this just reminded me that once again, I have screwed myself over because I didn't do something early enough. Just like how I dragged my feet on getting counseling early this summer - yet again, my laziness has cost me something very, very important to me. So now I have this to deal with on top of everything.

So. What do I want? Some things I can have, some things I can't have, and some things I might be able to have if things finally start going my way. The days since July 11 have been the worst time in my entire life. If you think I'm being a drama queen about it, that's your problem; I've got enough of my own. But at least now I know what I want.

I want to study in Europe during spring semester.
I want my doctor and my parents to let me go back to MU this weekend, because I can't handle a semester at home. I really can't.
I want my friends back.
I want my friend back.

I want to quit smoking, gradually.
I want my existence acknowledged.
I want to send this package and feel some closure that it was actually received.
I want to stop shunning people, so they'll stop shunning me.
I want to learn how to stop lashing out at others, and spending days afterwards mentally punishing myself for it.
I want to get these songs recorded and set up a Myspace page.
I want someone to write a good lead guitar part for "Look At The Moon," because I am inept at lead guitar.
I want to finish this book I'm writing. If I'm diligent enough, it could be done by the end of the semester, and I'm seriously considering trying to have it published. It's tough to write, but I know it's the best stuff I've ever done (and I've been writing my whole life).
I want to see my sister, which will take some time, seeing as she doesn't get back from San Francisco until after I (hopefull) go back to Milwaukee.
I want to learn how to yearn in a healthy way, instead of obsessing.
I want to learn how to love and let go at the same time.
I want to get rid of this depression, which comes from my anxiety.
I want to get rid of this anxiety, which come from my anger.
I want to find out why I've had this anger for so long, isolate it, and then be rid of it for good.
I want to learn how to accept care from people who care about me.
I want to learn how to accept love from people who love me.
I want to stop hating myself all the time.
I want God/the universe/a magic genie to offer me the chance to trade the 10 happiest months of my life in exchange for bringing a good man back to life. Because I would if I could.
I want a reason (one I can really believe, because I've heard many) why I shouldn't just forget everything I've just written and kill myself before the end of the year.
And right now, I want (extra points if you get the music reference) fifty of my closest friends and a keg of Killians...
... and that includes you, whoever you are, if you took the time to read this.

Journaling because I'm not at Lollapalooza.

Sun, 05 Aug 2007 04:42:43 GMT

So.

I finished my first week of outpatient therapy. Not nearly as bad as I anticipated, though I suppose after the hospital stay it's just a relief to be getting care somewhere that lets me get some fresh air and go home at the end of the session. Weirdly enough, my time in inpatient last weekend might have been necessary to make this work; the morning before I went to Michigan, my Mom and I went there for a meeting and I walked out because I hated the whole idea of it. Anyway, the experience has been positive so far (this week I've actually felt better there than I do when I get home, where I'm basically on a loose version of house arrest), but I have shit that needs to get done, and I know eventually I'm going to get bored of the routine. I'm set to go every day this week, and hopefully my psychiatrist will discharge me on Friday. Also, the place is like a hundred feet from Sondra's house, so that's weird.

Today was spent at that wonderful yearly activity... the Carney Clan Picnic. This is a semi-reunion picnic my family has done every year as far back as I can remember, way back to the early 90s when my cousins and I would run around whichever picnic grove we were occupying with our faces painted like the Ninja Turtles. It's weird - my family has had this almost ironclad "calendar of major extended family events" since time out of mind: Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, 4th of July, Picnic. It's funny to still think of these as the "major events," when at this point when I'm home, I see most of my Mom's side of the family every week (they're really all that close - crazy). ANYway, I was more social than I thought, even participating in the horseshoe tournament (I suck at horseshoes) and the egg toss (my 17-year-old sister pronounced me a "letdown" as her partner). Most of the time though, was spent either reading in a chair or smoking out in the woods. I finally started Klosterman's Fargo Rock City, which despite my disinterest in metal, is definitely a good read so far (Funny Side Note: in the introduction, Chuck includes a number you can reach him at if you have complaints about the book. I actually texted this number before I read the footnote saying he has since changed his number. Chuck, you are a silly man). And whether it was sporadic boredom, loneliness, or the bad influence of my cousin (who a 15-year-old Drew Arellano once pronounced "hot"), I smoked about a pack of cigarettes before the end of the picnic. I'm not sure how to feel about this, seeing as a month ago I was ready to start quitting, but now all the stress/anxiety just makes me want to smoke all the time. In any case, I know it's a big health problem, and quitting is something I will definitely have to work on once I can clear a few larger hurdles. In summary, at least my fears that I wouldn't know what to do with myself unless I was going out or at therapy were assuaged.

Other thoughts:
- I need to get up to Marquette ASAP after I'm discharged from outpatient. Besides figuring out work, I had meetings about my major declaration and about study abroad that I was forced to cancel, and that I really REALLY need to get done. So there's that.
- Saw the Simpsons movie last night (intended to go alone, but ran into Sondra and Pat and got unexpected company). Very funny, at least for someone like me who used to love the show. I hope they don't do any more episodes; the movie was like an hour and a half of a great series finale.
- Finally finished writing a song this week, and I'm almost done with a second. I gotta find someone with Garageband so I can get shit recorded. Of course, it's hard for me to write lead parts for myself without playback, so I'm either going to need to attach myself to someone with a Mac or wait till school starts and roommate John brings his.
- Lately (usually on bad days) I find myself considering ditching Chicago and Milwaukee entirely, and heading out to someplace like Seattle or Boston. I could get a job in a music shop or as a bartender, busk on street corners, and live in my own (shitty) apartment. Not too comfortable, but I think I could live like that. Then again, part of me thinks that's just escapist thinking. At the very least, I'll finish college so my time (and my parents' money) won't have gone completely to waste, and I'll see where I'm at once I get there.
- Been buying a lot of books lately. Besides the Klosterman book, I also picked up the autobiography of John Lydon (Johnny Rotten from the Sex Pistols, for those not in-the-know) and On Writing by Stephen King. So I've got stuff to read, which is nice.
- Avril Lavigne is the musical guest on SNL tonight, and it's really pissing me off. I never liked her much to begin with, but at this point she's basically become a fucking Ashlee Simpson clone (no offense, any Ashlee lovers out there).

Erm.... I think that's it for now. Hope everyone else is well, and I hope to see everyone again soon. I also hope this week goes well. I really need it to.