Frown

How do you frown? There are many types of frowns, just as there are many types of smiles. I have tended to frown with my whole face lately. I can feel it. The wrinkling of the forehead, the eyes squinting, the lips contorting into that upside down "U" shape, I can feel the frown. Just like real smiles, there are real frowns too. How often do you really frown? I hope it is not much. When you are alone, do you default to a frown or a smile? That can be a barometer as to what you are feeling deep inside.

I want to escape my frown. I want to escape the feeling of tears coming at any second I have had for the past three days, but I can't. I have not cried. Crying is not what guys do. Crying is not what warriors do. Of course, all of those reasons are reason lunatics quote.

posted by Pacer 6/27/2001

Saturday, June 23, 2001

Smile

You know, I just thought of something. What is a real smile? When you are sitting there, nothing really to do or on your mind, and you can just relax and do nothing. Do you smile? That's a real smile. Or do you do what I have been doing for the past 9 months or so: Wince, or grimace, or frown, or have your face go straight? I want to smile.

posted by Pacer 6/23/2001

Raining Money

Today I sat around and watched old movies friends and I had made when we were little. That is what we did when it rained and such. It was rather humorous. It reminded me of my childhood, and some of the good times I had back then.

I remember one time in my next door neighbors garage during the summer and it was pouring, we had opened the garage door to watch the storm from the building's safety. It was pouring, really pouring. And thunder and lightning accompanied the rain. So what did us two small children do? We decided to try and make it rain money. Don't ask me why, I can't remember. More likely than not it was just a whim. A "Why not?" moment.

Now how to make it rain money? Well, we had all this change lying around. I don't know why, or if it was even American money, but it was there. And we had envelopes. And tape. So we put the money in the envelope, taped it to the roof, and though some more. String! We had that too. So we tied some string to the envelope and pulled... The string was supposed to open the envelope and turn it over. Instead it yanked the envelope free of the tape and the roof of the garage and sent it falling to the ground.

Five more tries and we got it right, though, and money came raining down from the sky. Well, an envelope taped to a garage ceiling to be exact, and that "rain" lasted only a few split seconds. But it worked.

Another story from my youth involves fallen leaves and snow sleds. Since I live in Georgia, we do not get much slow. That didn't stop some friends and I from sledding on our boat-like blue snow sleds. Much to the chagrin of our neighbors, anyhow.

There was a huge hill behind this one family's house which we rode our bikes down. One day we were in someone's back yard and playing with our snow sleds, which we had never used by the way. We noticed they slid on fallen leaves from the trees and pine straw. The next time we went to that hill and rode down it we noticed that on the right side a bunch of leaves were laying around. This got some of us thinking.

So, being the fools we were we go the sleds and began trying to "sled" down this hill with no snow on leaves. IT WORKED! Oh MAN did it work! I have to say it was more fun than I had ever had sledding in snow or ice. (Which has been little, I admit.) We wore down the leaves on the open side so then we had to go further right into the area of the hill with a lot of small sapling trees and and other larger trees impeding the way down. Of course, we were young. This means we didn't care.

Through the fall we rode down this hill and hit many trees, dented the neighbor's shed (which they were not amused about), and ran into the creek more times than we could tell. (The creek was normally dry.....but sometimes it had some water.) Those poor sleds and beat up, the hill was beat up and the leaves pushed towards the bottom from our constant sledding, but it was fun while it lasted.

Earlier today, before the movies, I was driving back in my friend's 60's Willie Army Medical Jeep he is fixing up. It had no air conditioning, but that was okay. It had no ceiling and the windshield was down. (Gotta conserve gasoline, and no windshield means less drag!) The wind was whipping around us and we wore sunglasses to be able to see during the ride. I felt good. It was then, however, that I realized I had not relaxed in a long time. I had not really smiled in a long time. I've had a sad evening ever since.

posted by Pacer 6/23/2001

Friday, June 22, 2001

Sand

"Sand." He said. The sand he had picked up off of the beach earlier began to blow out of his now opened hand. "That's all relationships are. They're like sand."

"What?" She said, worried and puzzled at the same time. "What are you talking about?"

"Relationships are nothing." He went on. "They're built on human emotions, human fallibility. They can simply be blown away. They are not permanent."

"There you go again trying to be dramatic." She said with a huff. She had heard this sort of junk from him before.

"Am I?" He answered. "Like I care about whether or not I am being dramatic. It's not about that. I am fully aware that I am not dramatic. This is me we're talking about. I am the farthest from interesting. I am the farthest from dramatic. What I am doing is letting some of this heartache out. Some of this anger. Some of this feeling of loneliness and emptiness. But you can't even see that."

"Jason?"

"What? It's not like you care. You never have. You don't notice what's going on inside of me. You haven't even noticed how much I have been fighting inside of my own damn self. It's not worth your bother. You have other things to obsess over, after all. I don't even know why I am telling you this. You'll just make a joke of it simply because it all makes you uncomfortable.

"I can't talk to you about that uncomfortable stuff. This 'friendship' is a joke. It is completely broken and shattered. There is nothing left but the motions of people who used to care very much about each other. Now it is like a huge spinning wheel losing momentum, slowing down, and beginning to crash to the earth. Unbalanced and broken."

"Well hell," She responded in an angry tone to his attempt at 'drama.' "I'm not the only one guilty here, and you know it! You've done some awful, self-centered, pathetic things to me. But no, you won't even admit to that."

"You're right." He said with a sigh. "You're right. That's what I mean, it's all broken. All of it. I don't want to go on like this. In this broken state. We're becoming a couple of tallymakers, seeing which one has done mroe to the other, or more for the other, and adding them against each other's totals."

"I don't want to talk about this." She said. "We always have these conversations."

"Yes!" He said angrily in return. "We DO always have these conversations! And that's the problem! We're broken. We might as well face it. It's all over. The spinning wheel is coming to a stop and the ground is rushing towards us."

"So you want to quit?" She finally said. "Is that it? After all this, you want to quit?"

"Sometimes you have to know when to fold your cards." He answered.

"I hate you." She said in reply to that. "I hate you, you know that?"

"Well, it's not like you actually loved me!" He yelled back. "So just go. Put me out of my damn misery."

"Oh, I bet you feel so very special now." She said in that calm, cool, angry voice of hers that scared him so very much. "This is what you want, then, eh? To feel sorry for yourself! Poor Jason! The big bad world is just against him! Well go mope in your corner! I don't care anymore. You can have your drama and your big misery ending."

"The ending already happened." He said, even more angry. Some of that was true, he knew. "You know that. It's been over."

"Ha." She said. "Whatever Jason. I'm leaving, and I'm not going to turn around."

"Fine!" He said back. With that, she began to walk away.

"Wait." He said quietly. She kept walking.

"Wait!" It was a bit louder this time.

"What?" She said, turning around. Neither could really stand to hurt each other, or be mad at each other for long. They didn't know why. It just felt...wrong. Not that this was right, but they knew the other was wrong.

"I love you." He said dejectedly.

"I love you to." She replied. "But you make me so mad some times."

"I know." He replied. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be mad or try and hurt you."

"You've just been so angry lately."

"I know." He replied. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She said a bit softer. "I hate these talks."

"Me too."

"Then why do we have them?" She said.

"Because we're broken." He said. "Or, at least, I'm broken."

Both of them just sat there at that point. An awkward silence ensued, but both looked at each other. Their eyes sad.

"I love you."

posted by Pacer 6/22/2001

Monday, June 18, 2001

Mouse

The man stood at the top of the mountain and watched the world below him. He was alone. His thoughts were his only company. Clouds drifted past and the sun moved along it's arc in the sky. Still the man sat. He was expecting something. An epiphany. The world to suddenly make sense. For time to stand still, perhaps, and for all things to be revealed to him. He wanted it his way.

The sun began to set, the sky began to become lit by the stars. From his perch upon the mountain the man watched the stars twirl around the sky in their slow, almost immeasurable dance.

"There!" He thought. "Perhaps."

The answer, he could almost see it. It was just out of reach. The emptiness, the loneliness, the misunderstanding was almost his to correct. If only the world would show him his answer.

The sun rose in the morning, lighting the sky in a brilliant ball of fire. The man looked at the beauty and thought "There!"

The sunrise spread light across the darkened valleys below and he could see the populations began to move and murmur with the hum of life and the world and civilization.

"Perhaps."

The man had not moved. A mouse scurried up to him and sat there, staring at him. The man looked down at the mouse, wandering what such a small creature might be thinking. What might it be doing looking at him like that? Was it a sign?

"Here!" He thought. "Perhaps."

And as that thought was finished, a hawk swooped down out of the sky and plucked the mouse who was just sitting there a mere hand's reach away off of the rock outcrop and flew off with a writhing figure in it's Talons.

"There." He thought.

posted by Pacer 6/18/2001

Sunday, June 17, 2001

Four Letter Words

Love. A four letter word.
You know, it is interesting that Love is a four letter word. Well, at least if I counted it right. Let me see....
F, that is one. U, that is two. C, that is three. Wait, that's the wrong word.
Sorry about that, I meant to spell Love. Here we go.
D, that is one. A, that is two. M, that is....doh! Wrong word again. One more try.
L, that is one. O, that is two. V, that is three. E, that is four.
Well, it looks like my D in Calculus didn't mean I couldn't count.
A four letter word, the inspiration and desperation of millions. A true expletive in the tradition of all the other four letter words out there.

Love is......love is..... Love is a lot of things, but it is never simple. It is a complex thing. It is a silly thing. It is a complex thing.

Love is Humanity. Or is it that Humanity is love? No, I do not think so. But love is Humanity.

Love is a human trying to not be lonely. It is a quest. A search for the feeling of being wanted, or needed, or both.

Love is a mirage. Always out of reach, always taunting you from a few yards away.

True love is the worst. Who have you loved? Most likely you love a certain aspect of that person. The way they do this, or that, or this. The way they argue, the way they dance, the way they sing, or the way they make you feel safe. Some of those "things," or aspects, might seem shallow. But think a moment: Is it any more shallow to love someone for their looks, or voice, than their heart? Sure, it is not as obvious on the outside, but it is still loving someone for one thing about them. If you only love one thing, do you tuly love them?

I do not want someone to love me for my heart. Or my voice. Or, for that insane person that might, my looks. (The last one just frightens me...something HAS to be wrong there...hehe.) I want someone to love me for who I am, all of who I am. The good, the bad, the really ugly. I am, like most people in this world, a very dirty, ugly person in the depths of my soul. And to be perfectly honest and frank, I am tired of hiding it and being afraid of someone not liking me for it.

I am not loved. Not truly loved. I am conditionally loved by a lot of people, which is not so bad. I know alot of people do not even have that. People love me because of "things." Conditions. They are my parents. They are my sisters. They are my next door neighbors from a long time ago. They are people who I get along with and we hang out together.

I love these people in return, and I am not trying to belittle their love. It is great, and I thank God for them every day. But, for once in my life, I want someone to love me who doesn't have a condition behind them. Really love me. You know, the kind of love that people in church promise God has for you. The Greek language has a word for it: Agape.

Do I think this will happen? I used to believe in it. And I do believe there are people out there who do love each other in this way. As for myself? I don't think any person will love me that way. It is far to difficult.

I have believed in true love all of my life. I haven't given up on the idea. I have given up on the idea every occuring in my life.

Loneliness is the way most of the world goes through life. I am average.

posted by Pacer 6/17/2001

Wednesday, June 13, 2001

Slip

The water slipped over the side of the concrete pool with a gurgling noise. The rock doves bathed themselves in this small stream as students came and went along their ways in the courtyard. The sun provided a fuzzy warmth that didn't make you hot but made you drowsy. I laid back and let the world go on about its business around me. I felt as if I was not a participant in this world but a spectator. A total level of disconnectedness surrounded me, and it was only the watch alarm set to go off five minutes before my class that brought me back. I shrugged off the feeling of not actually moving within this world with a mighty effort and sat myself up on the side of the pool. The water was made artificially bluer in some way. The beauty of it caught my attention for a minute or two before I realized I had to go to class. So with another mighty effort I dragged my legs across the courtyard into the building and towards my class. I still didn't feel like part of the world, but at least I wasn't letting that fact stop me from doing my responsibilities. Well, this time at least.

posted by Pacer 6/13/2001

Tuesday, June 12, 2001

Every Monday

We hopped into the bright red sports car, rolled down the windows, and screamed around the small town while the others waited for the last school bell to ring signalling the end of their day. It was the middle of spring semester, getting closer to spring break, and both of us just wanted to not think about things for a while. Instead, we let the music think and speak for us. The sun, the wind, and the fun are the things I remember from those days.

This one is for you Jessica!!!
Every Monday

posted by Pacer 6/12/2001

A Farce

Love is a farce. You love someone? Who cares? There is a damn good chance they don't. And what is love anyhow? Does it mean you really care about THAT person? Or is it that you transpose your own ideas, ideals, and images onto that person? What happens when the truth comes out about that person, then? Usually it means you don't 'love' them anymore. Let me give you all a clue: If that happens, you never loved them. You don't just 'stop loving' someone like people claim. What happened is that you loved some aspect of that person, an aspect that fit your ideal of perfect, and thus transposed the rest of those ideals onto them. If you truly love SOMEONE then you love ALL of them. People forget this. Thus, I truly doubt many people have truly love SOMEONE. Not SOMETHING about SOMEONE, but SOMEONE in their entirety. I know no one has ever loved ME that way.

Well, that's John's Rant for the Week! Now back to your regularly scheduled bad poems and stories.

posted by Pacer 6/12/2001

Sunday, June 10, 2001

Float

The sun and the moon, the stars in the sky, they all float away from my mind's eye.
I sit here staring at the water go by and all I can do is begin to cry.
The world around is a barren place with no hope for my race.
The paths I've trod have been long and lonely, all with a life that is most comely.
I ponder the moon, the stars in the sky, but yet the all just float away from my mind's eye.

posted by Pacer 6/10/2001

Sorry

Sorry for not posting. I've been out and about doing all sorts of stuff lately. Tops on the list has been trying to find work. A much funner pursuit, however, has been the time I've spent with friends. Anyhow, instead of more stuff to read I decided to overhaul the site. I'll have some new stuff up soon, though. I promise. Really. Hehe. On a side note, the "Insomnia" mini-blog will be used as a more day-to-day Journal piece. Random comments and quotes will most likely appear there. So that will probably get updated more than the main section. Anyhow, I hope the new layout and design is not totally offensive! If it is, please hit the "Feedback" link and let me know! Thanks!

posted by Pacer 6/10/2001

Monday, June 04, 2001

Dime-Store Philosophy

“So what do you really want from life?” Eric asked as he poked his fork at my chest, his mouth full of the beef stew the dining hall was having for dinner that night. That’s what you’ve really got to ask yourself. What is it that you want?” This time, emphasis on you.

Eric fancied himself a philosopher at times; this was one of those. He liked to pretend the answers to life were simple and right at his fingertips. I just thought he had seen to many movies like “Fight Club” myself. I had read all the little books crammed with Chinese proverbs and other wise sayings. They had done nothing for me except reinforce the belief that the human race was inherently flawed and doomed to failure from the beginning.

In my experiences life’s great problems could not be summed up neatly and answered in a book full of one-liners. For all I could figure, each of us was on his own and it was up to us to come to some understanding with the problem, its solution, and life in general. Then again, I am nothing more than another dime-store philosopher like Eric. Hell, I wasn’t even a philosophy major. I had decided to take the much maligned path of a History major, and there laid the other problem Eric wanted to solve for me.

I sat there eating a bootleg Philly Cheesesteak (I had spent a summer in Phillie with my sister, this wasn’t bad but it wasn’t a Philly Cheasesteak) and listening to Eric wax poetic on what I needed to do and why. This was our time. We ate dinner together once a week to bitch and moan about our problems and dispense great, but seldom heeded, wisdom in curing them. I was tuning Eric out. I usually did, unless my mind was not full of a million things, which it always was. I know he tuned me out as well.

It hurt neither of our feelings, the tuning out I mean. We expected it. It was part of the game we played. Our dinner, my one constant in an un-constant world (which was not much of a constant considering this was the first time this month we had eaten together, and the month was almost over), was purely a venting match of one-upmanship of “my problem is worse than yours” that helped us to relieve some stress. Besides, it helped to pretend someone gave a damn even though no one did.

The one thing I have learned so far in life is that we are all really alone. Everyone is far too busy with their own lives and problems to truly care about yours. And it was this that was the problem. The first one, that is. The one unrelated to my history major.

Eric continued to point his fork at me, twirling it in an almost obsessive-compulsive fashion. I was never sure whether it was the imagination he was twirling one of those batons symphony directors use (he was a music major) or if he simply liked the way it moved in his hands. Sometimes it was a messy habit, like when he ate spaghetti with lots of red tomato sauce.

“What you need to do is to drop her like a bad habit.” He said, emphasizing the comment with thrusts from the fork. “And then you need to get laid.”

At this I snorted.

“And has ‘getting laid’ fixed everything for you?” I asked in a mocking tone.

“Absolutely.” He said, sitting back in his chair and stretching his big arms wide. He played basketball.

“So the whole thing having to either get this girl you are seeing an abortion or marrying her, either way she loses her basketball scholarship, is ‘fine’?”

“Well, perhaps it doesn’t fix everything.” He answered, his grin turning to a grimace.

“It sounds like it just complicates things.” I replied.

I was a virgin. And it was this that my oh so well meaning friends targeted in on. To them, my virginity, or should I say its loss, was the key to my fixing my unhappiness. It had only opened new unhappy doors in their own lives, however. I could never figure out why they thought it would be different for me. Perhaps they just wanted me to be able to relate to that aspect of their misery better. I had plenty of misery so far in my life, however, and didn’t intend on adding more.

But this is not a story of a poor college student trying to handle the pressures of being a virgin. This is a love story, of sorts.

You see, that first problem I referred to a while back, the one not involving my History major, involved a girl. But then again, what problem does a man have that doesn’t involve a girl? Gay men need not apply.

I was in love once. It had happened on a bus ride home. I say her and I knew then I would love her, but I also knew she would be trouble. But then again, what girl is not trouble? The thing is, I didn’t see her for another month or so. And then it was in the most romantic of places; a French mass final. A quirk of seating, and my being late, brought us together. We dated for five months in absolute, or almost absolute, blisss but then decided to date others after this point. Well, she decided.

And this is where the problem begins.

posted by Pacer 6/04/2001

Saturday, June 02, 2001

Drama Queen

“I talked to Schuyler today. He has seemed a bit down lately. I saw him on North Campus and we decided to go grab a cup of coffee. That whole thing with him and Samantha seems to have hurt him, deeply.

“Anyway, we did the normal banter. How’s the weather been. Fine. What are you up to in school. Same old same old. How goes the classes. Well enough I suppose. Do anything exciting lately. Nope.

“Then we got to the meat of the conversation. You know, the sort of stuff that only friends talk about. As some might say, “the good stuff.”

“Today, the “good stuff” was relationship trauma. I haven’t ever really had a great relationship before, there has always been a major flaw of some kind with them. No offense. But you already knew all this. Schuyler, though, has had some doozies. And the “Samantha Situation” as he likes to joke about it takes the cake.

“They used to spend a lot of time together. I know the adjustment has taken its toll on him. Poor guy. He admits, however, that he knew what he was doing and the danger involved in it. He has met no new people this year and has, for all intents and purposes, closed himself off from the world. He was a different guy this year than normal, this we could all see I’m sure. For some reason, though, this conversation he seemed to be a bit more open than usual. That took me back a bit.

“‘Rachel,’ he began, ‘do you have any real close friends?’

“‘Well,’ said I, ‘I guess I could call Jessica a close friend. We do tel leach other a lot of secrets and get along well. You know, all that friend kind of stuff.’

“‘I’m envious.’ He answered. ‘I don’t really have any good friends. Or real friends. No offense.’

“‘Ha!’ I answered with a bit of a playful and a bit of a hurtful laugh. ‘And elaborate on why I should not be offended, good sir.’

“‘Always the drama queen.’ He replied as he leaned back in his chair carrying that rogue grin he often does. ‘Well, let me attempt to dig myself from this whole I have created.’

“‘You better, or I shall be forced to make you pay for my cappuccino.’

“‘In that case I best get on about it. I only have enough change for my chocolat chaud. At least I think that’s what the French call hot chocolate, but I did only manage a D in 2001.

“‘Anyhow, I do not mean you are not a great person and a good friend. You are, or you wouldn’t be here with me now obviously. What I mean is that I have no best friend, to put it in the most simple of terms. Why I do not know. I guess I just managed to keep from having one growing up or something.’

“‘So is that what you want?’ I asked.

“‘What I want?’ He paused and pondered for a moment. ‘I don’t know what I want. I guess I want to stop being so lonely. I want people to actually call me when they want to do something. You know, like when someone comes up with a great idea then they say “Hey, we should get Schuyler to come along too!” That sort of thing. I want to be wanted, not expected. I don’t want to be invited because the “group” is not complete and someone might feel bad. I want to be wanted. I guess what it all comes down to is I am insecure and have low self-esteem, so I want someone to vindicate me and save me, or fix me, or something.’

“‘Oh Schuyler...” I said, looking at him and feeling utterly helpless and sad for him. I wanted to say ‘I’m here for you Schuyler!’ and run to him and throw my arms around him, but I was keenly aware that it wouldn’t work. I could never provide what he needs. What it came down to was that I was one of those friends. He later went on to call them ‘fire and forget’ friends, friends you only worry about when you’re around them. If then.

“‘It’s like that song, I guess. “I want you to want me/I need you to need me/I’d love you to love me!” I should have sung it to Samantha.’ He said.

“‘That is an unhealthy song.’ I said without thinking.

“‘Exactly!’ He answered with a wink and a smile. ‘And that is the problem. But I’ll be fine, don’t worry Rachel. And now, I must be off to my next class. If you’ll excuse me.’

“He said all that last bit while looking at his watch and running through that rehearsed scene of goodbye we’ve all seen so much. It is a great scene. If I am the drama queen, he is the drama king. I do hope he feels better, though.”

posted by Pacer 6/02/2001