A Three-Legged Workhorse
I suck at keeping a blog.
So much has happened since I’ve started this. I’ve ended a relationship… started a new one… become engaged… graduated college… Changed the entire course of my life, even.
So much has happeend.
I am Jordan… you will never know me…
I want…
…something different.
Just in general.
My relationship is fine, I’m not talking about that.
I just want something… more. I feel as though I’m wandering about in some sort of dream world, wishing for a dream sign.
I pray for lucidity…
Just nothing…
It feels like a long time since I’ve written anything.
I’m not sure what’s possessed me to write tonight… perhaps it’s the alcohol in my blood.
I know it’s only been a couple posts since I’ve posted while I was intoxicated, but look at the dates — it’s been that long since I’ve drank anything.
Hmm… and I have classes tomorrow. I haven’t had that much… I hope I’ll be ok.
Lucid dreaming. Are you familiar with it? I’ve been talking with my significant other’s sister about it lately… She’s gotten into it too. I’m not sure she’s into it as much as I am, but I have my suspicions. She’s been keeping a dream journal of sorts… Her pleasant dreams she writes down, and her nightmares she illustrates. She’s quite the talented artists, so I hope I have the chance to see some of her dream-inspired works someday.
In any case… life is good right now. Yet, I can’t help but feel that the tides of change are coming soon.
Perhaps it’s just the ethanol speaking, though…
I feel like drawing, too. It’s unfortunate that I can’t link to my DeviantArt profile from here. No, that would expose my identity. I can’t have that. I’m not too bad of an artist myself… although I’ve been without my Wacom pen for almost a year, now. My Intuos3 has been sitting in my bookshelf for that long, just begging for me to replace its pen.
I got my tax return recently… If I can manage it, perhaps I will.’
Anyway… I’m done. I apologize for the poor quality of my posts lately. I seem to be pretty boring…
It’s been nice out, lately. Hopefully I’ll get enogh sun before my class trip at the end of the semester.
Kiri
¡Estoy aprendiendo español! Pero no soy muy bueno en eso todavía…
Okay so maybe I used Google translation to help me out with those sentences…
In any case, I managed to get a hold of the most recent version of Rosetta Stone and the Latin American Spanish packs. I’m not very far yet, but I’m excited to be! I’ve started practicing rolling my “rr”’s too. I can get it a little, but it doesn’t sound right… I hope I’m not doing it wrong accidentally? Nah I’m sure it’ll just take some practice to get it to sound right.
…I’ve come a long way, haven’t I?
Were it only that I didn’t still feel so different from everyone else around me. What’s so special about me, anyway? Nothing…
Perhaps I want to be?
Burial on the Presidio Banks
I remember a time where the only thing that consumed my thoughts was death… that I should die, be slain by some tragic misfortune — the sapling of an oak, cut short far from its time; long before it was ever given the chance to blossom and grow into a mighty figure, lifting its limbs high into the sky, stretching its leaves wide… well, oaks don’t have wide leaves but that’s beside the point.
I’ve come a long way since those days. I don’t wish such a fate upon myself anymore… I want to live, to love, to see the world, to marry and have children, to teach them and give them wonderful lives and be a wonderful parent, avoiding the same mistakes my parents made with me…
After I came to the conclusion I wouldn’t kill myself, I began to wonder, in those tortuous, scarring moments, how much more my mind could take. When would I break? When would I lose myself to the bitterness and anger which flowed in place of blood through my veins?
Again I wished for death. Not for myself, but for those around me… no, it wasn’t death I wished for, it was pain. I wanted them to know just how they made me feel… How else, though could I grant them this understanding? I figured I’d have to do something drastic, impulsive, in a frenzied state of mind when sanity had lost its value. I wanted so badly to lash out, to let the red in my vision be all there was between these hands which thirsted for blood and them…
Then years passed. Things got better.
But we humans, we never truly forget, do we? I still feel this beast, caged, tombed beneath the sands of my past.
But don’t worry. Every now and then it just likes to rattle its cage a bit… those bars will hold.
That doesn’t explain this useless rant. My apologies… goodbye.
…On Tracks of Never-Ending Light
Taking a nap today (my very, very easy day of the week, Tuesday/Thursday… Only one class at 9 and then I’m out!), I gave lucid dreaming a shot again. Seems like I’m getting the hang of it like I used to, though I didn’t quite make it all the way into REM. I could see the images in front of me, taunting me, eluding me like a playful schoolchild on the first warm day after a long winter… I reached out with my consciousness, the feeble arms granted to my budding dream body, yet I could not reach far enough. Soon the scene faded into black. Strange, random shapes burned into my retina, as I felt my equilibrium twist and tumble. Soon the familiar tightness in my chest and the emptiness in my lungs faded away, and I slipped gently back into the couch I had laid on. I was so close, just one breath away…
I was still tired after this so I just went back to sleep in the regular way. I dreamed strange dreams as though I was attending a different college, but with the same faces there. My mom was even working there, which I thought was funny. Excuse the random paragraph…
I later was in some kind of department store, presumably Wal-Mart or Hobby Lobby, when I ran into my ex. Breaking through the awkwardness, perhaps knowing deep in my gut that this was only a dream, we spoke. My ex told me that there was nothing to worry about… that they were over me, and that there were no feelings of bitterness or hatred left behind. Though true, my ex began to shed tears through these words. So did I.
I wept, harder and more passionately than I have in a long, long time in my dreams.
In waking life, I haven’t been moved all the way to tears since I was 8 (though there have been time where I’ve been close).
I held my ex tightly, and whispered “I’m so sorry” over and over and over again.
I don’t remember much else of the dream… there was something about stunt driving and a car wreck, but it’s just fragments in my mind now.
…It’s funny. For a while now, I’ve been crying in just about every dream I’ve had and can remember.
Perhaps my body’s telling me that it needs to try it in waking life.
Just once.
Elephant
So. I’m back.
Quick update… I managed to survive Christmas break with only 2 new cuts on my arm. Seems that was all I needed to release whatever was in me at the time that needed to come out. I’m back at college for my last semester now, and am taking my MCAT prep course. Easiest semester I’ve had by far… so far. It’s going well, but I desperately need motivation to study outside the course… my organic chemistry skills are severely lacking.
I just had the sudden urge to update… I’ve had probably the equivalent of 8-9 shots of rum and have 4 snus in my mouth right now. Feels fucking wonderful… had I only someone to share the moment with.
I just hope this doesn’t carry over to tomorrow. I’ve got class in the morning.
…I think I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll have some more rum.
Heh. I hope my SO never finds this blog.
That’s all for tonight.
When the Sky Ends
The smoke is still stinging my throat slightly, dancing with the familiar taste of tobacco in my mouth. Perhaps I’ve developed a mild nicotine addiction… Lately I’ve felt as though I’ve had to have at least one every night. “It’s okay though, I can quit whenever I want.” Nights where I cannot find the time to smoke don’t seem like a burden to me, and often times are followed by a couple nights where I simply forget to greet this habit.
Poor me.
Got into a huge fight with my mother today… It all started when she asked my brother to start his car for her. My brother, jokingly, said that she should ask me to do it instead. He was finishing up his lunch or something… I was busy with Twilight Princess, a great game that I haven’t had the time to get into since its release. So, she asked me if I could do it for her. So I told her that it’s his car and that she asked him first, so naturally he should do it. These innocent words devolved into “Hey! I told YOU to do it, so go do it!” I resisted, and then she began making comments about how lazy I was and how it was just shameful that I was never willing to do any work around the house. She kept going about how ungrateful of a child I was, one bullshit remark after the next.
I wasn’t having any of that today. So, I lashed back out at her. This argument went all over, touching on subjects ranging from how I wasn’t able to find a job this semester, to her and my dad’s inability to find jobs this season either, to my brother’s greatly belated high school graduation (coming this December… he’s 20 now), to the sensitive (for her) issue of me having to take her car to college this semester instead of my own which had expensive transmission problems, to my parents playing favorites when we were children, to statements such as “Why don’t you just move out already? We should start charging you rent,” to “I’m the only one in this room who’s actually planning on doing something that matters with my life… you’re the one who’s a failure.”
It was fierce, abbreviated only when she realized she was running late for some errands she had to attend.
I’ve come to a realization today. When I was younger, when I needed friends and company and relationships the most, they were the ones who were never there for me. Due to some masterful work by my then-manipulative, brown-nosing brother, he had managed to convince my parents that I was the source of scorn in our family. I was labeled as the misfit, the mischievous, selfish child who twisted the opinions of my friends against my own family members.
It all began when they first held on to the notion that I was abusing my brother, trying to turning friends and family against him. In a heroic attempt to foil my evil plot, I became the evil one. They were the heroes who had stepped in just in time to save my brother from certain peril, sentenced to a life of depression and loneliness ushered in by me, who sought the approval of my peers more than the bonds of family. I was the problem child from then on, the one they had to unite against to undermine.
They needed someone to fill this role in their lives. I happened to be in the right place in the right time. Thus the evil one’s schemes would be forever put to rest, the villain locked up and bound. No more would these plans come to fruition, no longer would this terrible concoction of blood, tissue and bone which had gone awry continue to herd corruption between their precious family bonds.
What’s it like to have your family stand up for you, to protect you when people aim their fragile fingers your way undeservingly? What’s it like to be encouraged by a loving father when you’ve been paralyzed by the fears of a reality which seeks to destroy you? What’s it like to hold a deep, genuine conversation with a mother who’s interested in your thoughts and feelings, interested in the relationships you’ve managed to build in the mere 10-20 years of life you’ve been granted thus far?
Tell me… somebody please, tell me…
These days hurt so much. Each day I walked through this desert, chapped lips seeking water. It wasn’t long after stepping onto this baked earth that the wolves first spotted me… wasn’t long before I could hear them pacing around me as I slept, each night drawing closer, biding their time to strike. My father once told me I was the worst sibling he had ever known. “I would never want to be your brother,” he said to me. Even as my brother defended me, he held fast to this idea.
I wanted to die… I wanted to die…
When have I ever been the wanted one within this circle? I’ve always envied this love, the bond of which I apparently am undeserving of. Even now as they talk to him… my brother, the victim… Each time they laugh, each time they share something of themselves… Hell, each time they so much as genuinely listen to the words he speaks, I wonder if it ever could have been me.
…But sometimes I wonder if I truly wished it could’ve been.
I thought that these cuts would be for my friends, those who’ve fallen where I’d managed to stay strong. But now I believe that these cuts will be for me.
I wish I may, I wish I might
On crimson-coated steel tonight…
Oh God… I need to get out of here…
Around the Fireplace
Well, I’m back. Too bad my home doesn’t have power. We’ve got a generator though, so it’s not so bad. At least I can shower… And, obviously, I have internet access.
My ex removed me as a facebook friend recently… I’m not sure exactly when, but I was reading their updates just a few weeks ago… so, it can’t have been that long since then.
I’m… not sure how I feel about it. One one hand, I can understand… We barely talk since we’ve broken up and I’m sure my ex is tired of receiving updates about me and my current interest. It’s interesting that several other friends have removed me as well. Call these dynamics silly politics if you will, but there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I don’t recall the pain I’ve caused this person. Though I still don’t regret my actions, I do still care about this person tremendously. As for the other friends who have removed me, I have other, much better friends than them. I’m growing tired of the drama around here anyway.
On top of this, I heard that there may be someone else involved now. Honestly, I sincerely hope so… I hope my ex finds that perfect someone, and soon… I think they could use it.
I don’t know. I suppose I am disappointed that a friendship couldn’t work out between us. Though, I cannot say that I’m surprised.
One of my other friends broke up with her boyfriend, recently. Now they are both dating other people… I’ve heard that the guy she’s dating isn’t such a great person, and it’s wearing on her.
It’s funny, the directions in which people change sometimes.
Myself included, I suppose.
I haven’t cut yet. I think I may be afraid to. In a sense I feel as though I have to be there emotionally for my family right now, as money is short and we haven’t had power for over a week now. Family bonds are funny, too. I’ve never (and still don’t) consider myself to be close to my family, yet I feel a sense of responsibility about them.
*sigh* I hope we get power soon. I need a true vacation right now.
On a good note, I managed to get all A’s this semester, despite one of my teachers being a bitch! Yay!
The Color Theft
I need to cut again. I need… need…
Perhaps I have seasonal affective disorder… This seems to be a new recurring trend for me in the wintertime.
It’s the same as last year. These cuts will be for my friends who are falling… who feel they are not good enough. For those who feel as if there is no escape for themselves, who let the blackness within them grow.
I think I care too much. That’s my problem… that’s it…
…I’m holding out until I leave for home.
