comparative literature

it might happen this time.

i'll update you if it does.

i thought about it. there should really be a list kept for things that are of the human conditions. i know, i know; i should just read philosophy books. but i'm quite fond of lists. it's the poetry of the masses. i list, therefore i am. i am not making any sense, but that is only because i'm not all that chipper right now.

he is not talking to me. therefore, i am left to my one-sided, terribly negative thoughts for another day. that's alright. this is one example of a modern human condition: to be lonely despite the fact that we're surrounded by people. there is too much personal space nowadays and we have all unfortunately fallen in love with it.

i am also very sick, so that doesn't help me much in my attempt to feel better. but you know what's funny? even when i'm sad, i'm not really. i just want to sleep more. but if i watch tv or write or something i'll feel okay. i think that's the biggest reason why i decided to live alone--this personal space. i thrive in it. i am more able to center myself mentally because i'm alone. i have no considerations. i can muse and wallow for hours on end and no one would ever know unless i told them.

[continued]

yesterday, i slept a lot, so i think today i am going to be plenty chipper (despite the whole c issue, plus a hell of a lot of financial problems). can't let that kind of thing bring me down anymore! (just lather, rinse, and repeat: truth begins in lies).

here's the thing responsible for my first bout of happiness today: the House of Representatives is going to apologize for slavery and the Jim Crow era.

i know what you're thinking: did i read that right? is this the first of its kind? and moreover, how long could an apology possibly take?

it's only funny until you realize how many other governmental corruptions have been apologized for in the past forty or fifty years. and then your mouth twitches a little bit into a frown when it dawns on you just how old our congress is. i mean, come on. how can you have possibly only resolved to apologize to your minority brothas and sistas now? can it be that our very own congress is behind in cultural context as the supreme court is?

and of all things to apologize for. i bet only half of the House was actually responsible for enforcing those jim crow laws. why can't they apologize for something they actually did? like make torturing american citizens legal? or for not resolving to end the iraq "conflict" as soon as they could and still can? or, i don't know, for not taking care of the economy?

it's not all the president, you know. congress is responsible for money. i'd like them more if they'd just apologize for being a bunch of sissies.

anyway, that made me laugh and think outside myself a bit. that's a good thing, right? it makes doing everything else easier.

i'm actually at work and i'm not supposed to be doing all this stuff. she just caught me. i hope that doesn't mean i'm a bad person. mmm. i should probably stop. maybe i'll add another enlightening bit of news when i get home.

i would have much rather written a rave review of john mayer as i planned, but, boy oh boy, i have gone and done it again. with me, it will never stop. it seems even my subconscious i have doomed to repeat the cycle of self-fulfilling prophecies. now, what exactly is wrong with me?

today, c was discussing his plans for the near future, as he always does, because i need that kind of constant reaffirmation that i am a part of something, if not his life. this discussion, besides "what's new," is perhaps the most regular of all topics, and predictably timed to make each conversation long enough to be "enough" until the next time. i don't mind. i need these conversations, otherwise there would exist naught but a glaring vacancy.

life, concerning him, has not been favorable lately. and by lately, i mean since 2007. from october 2007 until june 2008, there was nothing between us but phone calls. he visited in june for one very disappointing week. and i have been feeling the same feelings that consistently make it impossible for me to be happy for prolonged periods of time. and these feelings come back when i am told that he may not even come back to visit if he lands a job in vietnam, or he'll end up working in switzerland, or afghanistan, or that-land-away-from-me-land.

"being" with him, in a sense, is a truly difficult thing for me to grasp. there are two parts of me i constantly try to reconcile, and sometimes i do--until i realize that the only reason the feelings of insecurity went away was because i ignored them. but the thoughts are pervasive, and they return because the questions remain unanswered. the difficult thing is that they are left unanswered by me.

with him, you see, it's about his future. what he wants for his future. what he has to do for his future. somewhere in those plans for the future, he swears i play an important part, and i want to believe, but let's not forget that i am the queen of blighted ideas. let's not forget that i am overprotective of myself and my need to stay level-headed and free of care.

i told him, like i said i would, that i don't know if i can keep this up as long as i have. it never even should have lasted this long. the distance keeps growing and i keep clinging to it because he makes promises about a future; because i've watched him, sacrifice after sacrifice, to make a chance possible. what chance? the chance of a real relationship, one not governed by sparse phone calls, doubt, and loneliness. i told him that i was afraid of abandonment, because i have invested so much.

but i have said this many times. i know i have. and then he tells me that i shouldn't even think about whether or not he would be near me soon, because i was too young to think about things like settling down.

first of all: me? settle down? that's hilarious. i find it hilarious every time he even mentions marriage-related things. because i am not looking to "settle" just yet, if ever. i am waiting to see if a real relationship is possible. if he can be with me every day and not run away. if i can keep the happiness i feel when i am not alone for longer than the requisite perennial weeklong visit. if we can survive the feeling of not being visitors in each other's world.

what i am feebly attempting to reconcile is that selfish youthfulness, that freedom of choice and care that comes with the lack of attachment to ideas like relationships and commitments, and my goddamned biological weakness. will i be able to make choices that further my career and keep this relationship at the same time? or will i become acquainted with long distances and forget what it is to feel, hold, and possess something tangible, something that looks at me when i speak and laughs with me when something is funny? what will i miss? what am i missing?

and there's the part of me that cares too much. the sliver of my soul that wants the future promised to me. she is the one that waits patiently for the day when she will be able to reap the rewards of the parts of her heart she sowed. she is the one full of optimism, full of hope with regard to the relationship. she's the one who clings to it, who has convinced herself she needs it, because it couldn't possibly be that she has been lied to all this time. there is too much at stake, emotionally, for everything she has worked for to just fade away into nothingness...

and they're at odds with each other, these two sides. sometimes, like this time, i will just summon up anger in order to just eradicate every little thing i feel. i will stir up the wrath in him, too, push the buttons until they break, watch the order descend into chaos, all the while comfortably reassuring myself, "this is the way things have to be. this way, everyone gets what they want." and i'll say to him, "maybe it's better for you that we don't do this anymore. better for you to find a good job, settle down, and find someone you can be with normally, so you'll never have to miss me or worry that you haven't called as much as you should, or deal with the fact that i can't deal with what i feel. and maybe i can find that too."

and for some reason, i will not let myself be the one to go. he will not let go, either, for some ridiculous reason. he will tell me that i shouldn't think so much, shouldn't worry; that everything's okay and it will be okay, because i'll fly you out to where i am, have you follow me where i go, so don't be sad and don't be negative. he'll be upset that i have mentioned it again and say i ignore his own investments. his steady progression towards a possibility to be near me, to give me what i selfishly ask for. that i have a place.

but, boy oh boy, i've gone and done it again. i'm considering the option of disappearing from him for a little while, given that we are especially lacking forms of communication since he moved to vietnam. if it goes well, maybe i'll disappear completely. why? i don't know. i always want to disappear because it's a perfect escape, even when nothing is ruined, and everything is okay except for me and my whacked out insecurity

knowing both him and myself, though, this charade is bound to continue, in spite of how long ago we should have given up on something so impossible as staying together. i wish sometimes he would just leave me so that my mourning will be justified. but it never is. a million times i've grieved over this relationship; not once has it ever truly died. i'm sure that stands for something, but i am loathe to inspect the cycle for positivity while i'm wallowing in my self-prescribed misery. cheer is rather counter-productive at the mo.

this entry will be short. just a recap of what i did today so that i remember in the future. i finally understand what a useful hobby journal-keeping is for me, because i rarely remember memories worth reflecting on at a later date. anyway.

today was janella's birthday gift from me: a john mayer concert featuring brett dennen and colbie caillat. suffice to say that it was a good concert. i heartily enjoyed it despite my shallow interest (my life's motif, or do i just love being redundant?) in john mayer's music. he was extremely personable for this concert, which i appreciated; janella appreciated it, too, and i think tonight's concert reignited a long-lost adoration for the man's music. i think i was as caught up in the crap that his life has been that i kept meshing his personal life with the act of listening to his music. now i won't. i was impressed. i'm no worthy critic, but from where i was standing i could tell this: he can play that geetar very well.

lots of new stuff popping up. nella's no longer a working woman; saw jared and xenia for the first time in maybe a year; other interesting stuff that i am too moral to post online. haha. anyway, all in all, i think it is shaping up to be a good end of the summer. things are looking up all around, and i hope it stays that way. i hope luck, or chance, or fortune--anything, really, that will turn the tables my way will soon visit me... there are a lot of things that are looking bleak for me, especially financially but personally, and though i know it will be up to my own powers to make things work out, it would be nice to feel as if there existed powers-that-be that paid me extra attention for the next few months.

none of this is really making sense anymore. at some other point i'll elaborate because to be honest, i need to set my head straight anyway. who better to talk to than an invisible audience i.e. myself?

good night, i'm alive!

late night rambling. but it's likely that come tomorrow, i'd lose any interest in writing about... anything, really. there's really nothing much for me to say but that today was a good day. surprised? i am.

back when i kept a journal like this, i used to just gripe about what an uneventful life i have. but when i think about it at the time, i didn't really have an uneventful life; i actually had really strange circumstances with which to contrast what i perceived to be an "eventful life." by eventful life, i used to mean whatever kind of life is portrayed in "greek" or "the best years." i wanted the kind of life where i'd completely transform into a bombshell, break a few hearts while bartending or waitressing at the hottest hole-in-the-wall south of houston, go out partying in cancun with my rich hipster friends--you know the dream; you know the deal.

whether i like to admit it or not, mtv has had me by the balls i wish i had when it comes to imagining what a perfect life is like. a perfect life is being raised in the suburbs by professionally successful parents and later being able to gripe about everything i never had as a teenager; when i finally arrive in college, all my sheltered teenage angst will have collapsed in my psyche, much like a dying star collapses unto itself. i will then compensate for that black hole left in my life by sleeping around, shopping, and not doing any actual school work at all. and then one day, i'll audition for the real world and for the rest of my life i will pander to a nation of my distracted, my apathetic, my loving and adoring peers.

believe it or not, there was a point in my life that i wished that would happen. except all the jocks and popular people would be replaced by indier-than-thou hipsters and neo-beatniks--my kind of crowd.

in reality, of course, i knew i'd never really get along with these people. as i mentioned before, i pretty much play with things at superficial levels. i know enough movies, artists, books, tv shows, sports, politics, etc, to be able to talk to anyone for an hour about it. any more and i'd be pushing it. any more and the charm is gone. and then all i'm left with is stories about my ridiculously awesome mom, the fucked up things that happen in milpitas, and mr. colburn. anyone would love to know about mr. colburn i'm sure, but no one would be able to take it for days (believe me--i've tried, in my own subtle way, to center conversation around colburn for as long as i can, and people always tend to run away).

but, you know, recognizance of your own faults (i.e. my shallowness and noncommittance to anything, for one) always tends to be the debbie downer on  your life. if you can ignore it, you're lucky as hell--even better if the people around you never even tell you about it. unfortunately for me, i do a little too much soul-searching and self-reflection to be able not to take myself too seriously.

and anyway, on the outside i don't. maybe on the outside everyone doesn't. but this particular shallow quality to me is the one reason i never thought i'd be able to truly commit to a relationship. i think i'm holding onto my relationship partly because i can't believe it's held on so long without it being broken by something so paltry. it probably has a lot to do with the fact that we probably have nothing in common, if not a strange attraction to the entity known as barack obama. we're fueled by a mutual need for pleasantries and the diurnal task of enjoying simple things in life. i don't know if there will ever be a point in time that we'll get tired of those simple things, and in truth we probably will, but i'm still waiting. still waiting to see if any such thing could happen in the long run, or if we're doomed to keep playing the long distance game for as long as this works out.

i'm going to admit i have doubts, most of which i will address soon though i have addresed them too many times to count. actually, i've been told that i address problems with a self-fulfilling prophecy mindset. that i exacerbate the problems in order to reach the end which my mind instantly drifts to at the sign of every little problem. which is, of course, just the end. nothing too spectacular. but apparently it's a habit of mine, but i won't deny it. at the very least it helps me to communicate my unending list of insecurities. whatever--you choose to put up with me and my curse. i live the pygmalion effect. it's a little like writing your autobiography, but a lot more self-destructive. it's a tic of mine i don't care to give up.

to know pain, you gotta feel it first. thank you, john locke.

it's times like these i take rimbaud too seriously. to be a seer, one must suffer through a derangement of all the senses... all forms of love, of suffering, of madness, he searches; tests the poisons so that only the essence remains. he undergoes unspeakable tortures that require complete faith and superhuman strength...

ah, i'm too tired to try and paraphrase the rest. anton still has my favorite translation of une saison en enfer, which frankly, i want back. i'll have to let that be known at some point, before he goes off with it to san diego and never returns it... absconding with my baby. that's something anton would do.

no, i'm kidding, he wouldn't. babies make women messy. men make women messy. hell, maybe women are just messy in general. sean the misogynist would like that comment, i'm sure.

i'm writing a lot for it being two thirty five in the morning. in fact, i've been writing for exactly thirty five minutes. that's more than i expected. i guess i missed it more than i thought. this way, nobody interferes with what i have to say, or judges as i say. you can judge after. at that point, i'll already have forgotten i've written anything at all.

i actually started writing to talk about something else, but i realized that if i did talk about it--even if only i cared, or i understood--it's self-destructive to a point that makes me hate myself. it makes me feel as if i am the person i least want anyone to be, let alone myself. i compare it to the feeling of having killed the wife of the man you're about to marry but you were never blamed, so you never told anyone, and you want to but you can't.

it's late; i can't think of anything better. that's probably a good thing and i should probably stop here.

thanks for reading.

yesterday, my buddy catherine sent me a link to a "social conservative" something-or-other from emory university who called my generation "the dumbest generation under thirty." in history. i'm sure it's everything but false, but being that i have an extremely sensitive sense of self-worth i thought to myself, "good lord, lenine, you should probably do something about that. you don't want to be just like everybody else, do you?"

i actually made an effort to do the unthinkable for my generation today. i spent a good thirty or forty minutes perusing my iGoogle homepage for news i found interesting. i made an effort at the time i personalized my Google homepage to make it easier for me to start reading and paying attention to news. i thought, what better way than to have the most exciting headlines splayed out for me daily while i search for obscure lyrics and wikipedia facts?

it works better than you think. of course, it also makes it easier for your news sources to pay attention to what they're selling to the population by the day, but what good media source wouldn't? one of these days, i'll find it in myself to check further than the five headlines they pop out for me like babies out of wedlock in the midwest. someday, i will click on "israel's debate over an iran strike" before i click on "what it means to be black in america." not saying that one is better than the other; just saying that one day i might actually broaden my horizons to things that are irrelevant to me in a microcosmic sense.

there's a hundred dollar word for you, cat. i mention her because i just saw "the dark knight" with her (my second time) and because she talks to me on aim. speak of the devil. she is now aim-ing me to borrow david sedaris' new book, "when you are engulfed in flames." i have just mentioned two of my current favorite things in the same paragraph. your mind must be blown away.

there's a reason i wanted to start blogging again. oh, that's right. i just wanted a separate avenue for writing again. i've been itching to talk about things that keep flitting about in my head, but given that i thought i'd warmed up well to the idea of non-blogging nearly a year ago, i just saved the things for conversation or an essay of some sort. much to my chagrin, things i find myself keeping for conversations rarely come up in conversation and so gets lost in the torrent of this-and-thats. this jagged as hell entry probably reflects that feeling.

also, i realized today that i wish i was more invested in the things i enjoy. i enjoy a lot of things at a superficial level. then i meet people, like mr. colburn, or anton, even cat, people with things they have vested interests in (music, comics, lotr). i wish sometimes i had that. i never get very far in conversation with people who have vested interests in things because in the end, they realize how shallow i am concerning such things. for instance, i wish i'd been into comics a little more. i wish i'd take my love for it a little further, but i'm limited to the things i had access to, like whatever they had at the library. i wish i could be more knowledgeable with literature. last semester i surprised myself by reading seven books over the course of a few months that i've had laying around for at least a year, but it was only because i spent a lot of time riding BART back and forth places. now that i don't, i find i'm back to just the television again. not that the television is bad, but the guy from emory--you know, the whiny bitch who calls my generation dumb because we vote for presidents based on how they inspire us or what we want them to do for us, instead of "what he can do to better our lives"--he had a point. i'm taken away from this separate world of literature, which i truly do wish i could enjoy more than i do, because i'm constantly distracting myself with other things.

i keep telling myself someday, all that will end. but i've been telling myself that for years and the day still hasn't come yet. but don't get me wrong--i'm not complaining. i don't mind being well-versed in the t.v. i'm just acknowledging the fact that there are things i sacrifice for the modern things i enjoy, and that happens to be literature. it's a hobby i'm saying i'll get into one of these days. someday i'll be in the mood to do all the things i want to do. but there's so much, it's hard to choose. and i'm not particularly good at any of the things i'd like to do, like draw, or make music, or sew, or cook, or write. guess i won't do much of any of that seriously after all.