Strangeworld

I’ve been in school for about month now. I’m really not at the top of my game, though. It’s honestly hard after having such a good summer to get back in the habit of, well, stress. I define stress personally as the things I absolutely need to do and can’t afford to fail, whether that’s schoolwork, my job, or just going to class in general. There’s been a lot on my plate so far and I’d really like to try and get back in control because I have been falling behind on my responsibilities.

I think it would help if I had more motivation to go to class in the first place. I don’t have any friends my age beside Vic, and even then, I don’t have any classes with him this year. He moved in with his wife so it’s just been harder to see him in general. I really do think my classmates like me and my interest in certain classes but I’m terrible at initiating. I wish it were easier for me, but I’ve really only displayed the ability to make friends on the internet. I have strong friendships there with wonderful people who I talk to every day, but I feel like a total outcast on campus. And I think my personal beliefs, while they may help in fueling my interest in school subjects, are not exactly conducive to making friends. I’m not unfriendly or anything, it’s hard to tell exactly what about me fails in that arena (or else I’d fix it already). I think people understand my passion for the work and that’s about as far as it goes. Still, I hope this year I can make some stronger connections outside of the radio station. You know, with people my age.

Radio is still a very important social and personal experience, though. I feel like the people there are more like family than anything. I’ve been doing what I can to help promote the station to students since we don’t have many DJs and fortunately we have a few new ones. It’s been tough, though. Recently one of the founding members and a close friend of all within the station, Paul, passed away pretty suddenly. We did a memorial show and it was frankly a very eye-opening experience to listen to all the anecdotes of Paul’s life and memories that people have had with him. Everyone at WLFR has known him much longer than me. I learned more about him in two hours than he had told me about himself in 6 months. But anyways, in the wake of that things have gotten shuffled around and now I am trying to help out more. It is nice to see my efforts be appreciated and welcomed by people there. They really do feel like family, especially during such a challenging time. Radio will always be my outlet but it is my REAL passion in college. Paul always encouraged me to keep being myself and doing what I do. I miss him so much, as does everyone, but I will carry what he said to me forever.

My job has become pretty absurd and anger-inducing lately. It’s just not even worth writing about, I’ve gotten it off my chest already to anyone who cares to listen. I’m trying to leave, though, and get an internship with a PR/advertising company or something like that. There is an internship fair happening soon so I’ve been asking my professors what kinds of questions I should have for potential employers and things. I’m really hoping it goes well, because I would love to do something more than just menial delivery. I want to put my intuition and education to use now. It’s not just a desire, it’s a need for me to keep moving and working towards a future that I want. One where I can do what I love, where I love, with the person I love to come home to, and hopefully all of that done somehow in an ethical manner. Alas, public relations isn’t always known for that.

I guess one step I’ve made towards that dream is having my own bank account. My parents have no access to it. Today I have to transfer all my money from my parents’ bank account to mine. I’m honestly really excited for that.

So yeah, that’s the general life update. Things are alright, I just have to get back into my working rhythm. In truth though, I am tired. Not hopelessly, but just tired. And I guess in many ways I still feel very lonely in my struggles and ambitions as a young person. I guess that’s what my discontent always comes down to.

I am finally angry about something in my life. If you didn't read the title.

So there's this... ongoing situation with my roommate, Emma. The only time I ever liked her was maybe the first few times I talked to her. Now she is the bane of my existence, and causing me an extreme amount of stress with here recent bullshit, that being, smoking weed inside the house. All night. Yeah.

When I moved into this apartment we had a "no smoking inside" agreement. It not only messes with our lease but just keeps this place from wreaking of weed because who would want that. Emma has her medical card (for some reason?) and has always respected this agreement and prior to July she would only smoke outside and in her room on occasion. That is, until she one day sent us a massive text blabbing about her "medical right" to smoke inside, which she went over with a law student friend of hers. This was after a few times of me complaining about the weed smell being tracked in after she smokes outside. First of all, her legal stuff is, as far as we can tell, bologna. It is still within our apartment complex's right to prohibit indoor smoking. Second of all, her practically demanding to smoke inside without any discussion breaks our roommate agreement and is just clearly inconsiderate. But Emma looks for excuses, not confrontation, and so she sent some garbage legal excuse. While I was home. While she was baked on the couch downstairs.

So I went down there and told her off. This was earlier this month. She didn't care. She even insisted that no smoking was never a condition when I moved in, which it was because if it wasn't I wouldn't have moved in.

Flash forward to now, she just got back from Florida and began smoking in the house again. I went downstairs and complained to her and she blew me off again. Tonight she did the same thing, and this time I snapped a little bit. I told her I'd do everything in my power to make her stop, basically told her to fuck herself, etc.. It's just such a frustrating situation. This morning I went to the office ladies and told them about the situation and they are sending a notice. They said if it keeps happening they will get their legal team involved but it's unclear how much they can do since Emma has her weed prescribed. My mom has also been trying to deal with the situation and said something to Emma's mom. I wanted to get something done that way since Emma is coddled by Mommy and Mommy can probably get her to stop. But if that doesn't work, it will be a lot of force from the apartment complex itself and of course me, and I have now made clear my intention to raise havoc.

My reasoning for not wanting smoke inside the house is pretty obvious. It smells up the whole apartment when she smokes downstairs, and medical weed has such a strong scent that it actually wakes me up if I'm asleep. I think that within itself is reasonable. She can always use a dab pen or edibles like me to avoid the smell, but she'd rather take four huge bong hits (before driving, no less). I also have pets downstairs. Gibraltar, and also my three lizards. Smoking indoors is not recommended with any of these animals. Even before Emma began smoking inside, people complained that our place smelled like weed. I don't want my stuff smelling like weed. Even if it's her "medical right", which it might not even be, the other factors in the situation beg that weed just not be smoked inside. For the safety of my pets, our items, and my down payment. I don't think this is unreasonable. When I brought it up to her, specifically the pet thing, she either blew me off or laughed.

I should also mention that Emma does not smoke responsibly. Although I guess I already have, seeing as she literally has to get high to drive. I've been thinking about reporting her to the police but I'm unsure of how to go about it. She also drinks and drives and already got one DUI in the time I've lived here. She buys tons of weed and tons of alcohol and has functioning dependencies to straight up chronic alcoholism. Her character is even worse than her drug habits. She is self important, ignorant, and borderline delusional with how she perceives her relationships with people. Honestly, I've learned my lesson from this now, but I have used her several times to get weed and alcohol for myself because it's just so fucking easy. I always pay her back, but I'm afraid this will be used against me if parents are involved. I don't really care about preserving her as a "plug", and I am far too upset with the situation now to ever consider that again I think. The one pro about Emma is that she doesn't care if I buy through her because my drug use is so insignificant in comparison. I am not addicted and incapable of personal betterment. Or critical thinking. Or basic thinking, honestly.

The worst part about this situation is that I am being used and I that, to me, is just completely unacceptable. Not just in a personal pride kind of way. It brings me a lot of anxiety, not to be confused with just stress, which, yes there is a lot of that, too. I feel stuck where I am because I can't do anything too malicious without it coming back to bite me, but also have to work in tandem with my mom and go through her whole formal argument rigmarole for anything to change. My mom told me not to get feisty but it's too late now. The text war I had with Emma today was rage-induced and harmful to the efforts I'm trying to make to get her to stop in other areas. I don't think I've been this angry at anyone before and it occurred to me that I don't know how to deal with it. But I just can't stand being taken advantage of, especially by a lowlife junkie. It's infuriating and so, so stressful. I can't get used to it or get it out of my head, especially at night when the weed fumes seep into my room and make my throat hurt. Admittedly, I've resorted to what I tend to do when I'm frustrated and have been self harming. Not in the cutting way, it's different than that but still destructive and dangerous for my body. In addition to getting Emma to stop, I also need to deal with this and the lack of sleep in the meantime. I can't expect the people involved to sympathize or even begin to understand this, but it is really starting to take a toll on me. Just all of it, in general.

I have already looked into moving out before this was a problem, but there is no reasonable way for me to do so. Apartments in Galloway are slim and there is the challenge of finding a roommate to replace me even if I did find a place to stay. How would I even begin to explain that to my replacement? There's also the problem of actually moving, which would require a lot of time and manpower. My parents would have to help in that case and I don't know how to hide all my alcohol, weed, and other private stuff from them. It seems like any option would create a mountain of stress that I can't deal with now since I'm leaving for Europe in 19 days, and after that, school starts immediately.

I'm thinking that maybe I could transfer schools or something. Go to the UK maybe. That would be the real dream, but that's expensive as fuck as well. I guess we'll just see how it goes. I think I'll probably end up staying here on really bad terms with both my roommates. (The other one, Jade, is a whole other story...) But for now, I'm gonna be annoyingly ironic and get high to take my mind of this. And maybe just sleep. It's difficult when I feel so trapped and stressed like this.

This summer has been pretty enjoyable so far. I lack the variety of events and interactions that I would normally write about on here during the school year I think, but some notable things have happened that I feel I should probably write down. June has been a slow month, and for the most part I've just been enjoying the weather, pursuing different interests, and working on several creative projects that have filled in the spot where this journal usually is. I also feel that I have been a lot less lonely recently, which is bizarre seeing as I have absolutely zero real life friends to hang out with (with the exception of Johnny and my other old friends at the station). I complained about it because I was seriously depressed back in May and early June. I've been really happy though. I think it's just because it's been so long. I feel fulfilled by my online friendships and I don't really know how to explain my relationship with the whole thing, but something has changed and I haven't felt lonely in the slightest.

Some remarkable things that happened last month include my dad's 52nd birthday, which we spent together down here. The Dead Kennedys were playing at Anchor Rock Club so we saw them together and it was great. We met a mother and son that were around our ages and stuck with them all night. Johnny was there, too, so it was a weird mix of people I like in the same place. He had a good time. It was weird being in a mosh pit with my dad. It was also weird crowdsurfing with my dad. I got to cross that one off the bucket list...

I also very recently got a new job after leaving my other one at the Surf Mall some time ago. I did gig work for Edible Arrangements for a couple days where I delivered orders to people in all the beach towns surrounding Somers Point. I enjoyed it a lot so I called up the delivery service that provides the drivers and asked them for a permanent part-time position. Thankfully, it worked out so tonight I start shift #3. So far on the last two I've delivered in and around Northfield for a few different businesses, and tonight I am stationed at a pizza joint. It's honestly very enjoyable work. It's not super profitable or anything but I get to drive, meet people, listen to my tunes, wear what I want, and keep my piercings (which was up in the air for awhile with other jobs of a similar nature that I had been accepted for). I like that I get to call the shots and feel depended on. Even though it's just delivery, this dynamic has so far been great for me.

Other than that nothing is really new. Corey and I finished Breaking Bad and now we are watching It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Things have been great as ever in that arena. I went to the urgent care twice this week... uh... what else? I made baked potato skins. And Gibraltar ate half a raw pork chop off the counter yesterday, but he was fine. Very interesting, I know. There's really not all that much to talk about that I haven't already written about already, but I'm okay taking it slow right now. There are some things worthy of their own entries that I'll work on when I have the time. I'm content with where I am and what I have to look forward to, though. Maybe soon things will pick up a bit and I'll have more interesting stuff to discuss.

In regards to what has happened in Uvalde…

The shock of this shooting went over almost immediately it feels like. Maybe that’s because a shooting happens every other month in this country. This one is special, though, because in the post-Trump America people actually have the nerve to defend the horrible police response to no end. It’s pathetic, really.

One of the worst arguments I’ve heard is that “it’s not the function of the police to risk their lives in this scenario.” That’s actually a valid justification because they are right, it isn’t. Cops in America aren’t trained to “protect and serve” like they boast on the sides of their cruisers. An article I read the other day put it in simple terms; the police aren’t there to protect, they are there to criminalize. They are there to meet quotas and persecute minorities, not save children from active shooters. A cop is not willing to put his life on the line because his job isn’t even dangerous and noble like it’s made out to be. People who think police are heroes are misinformed and victims of law enforcement propaganda. Thank God they arrested that homeless guy! They really are keeping our neighborhoods safe from teenagers with spray cans. Their response to fender benders? Truly remarkable and praiseworthy. You’d assume a town like Uvalde, which spends 40% of their tax money on a SWAT team, would be able to prepare and respond to an event like this, but they didn’t. And they never will, because that SWAT team is just proof of how law enforcement is fetishized in this country. An accessory at best, that fails when it is actually needed. Remarkably, people defending the Uvalde police right now seem totally okay with the fact that it isn’t there job to take down a shooter. Then what is their job, Susan? Tell me, Kenneth, who is supposed to deal with that? The kids themselves? Tough shit for those elementary schoolers, I guess. If something being “technically legal” is enough for right-wingers to rationalize the deaths of 19 children, that’s not good enough. The function of the police needs to be challenged but the right would rather die than admit that their precious SWAT team is a corrupt waste of fucking money. Because America!

Another argument I saw the other day… “the cops could’ve gotten hurt!” So true sister, the poor cops could’ve gotten hurt. We shouldn’t expect them to deal with crime! It’s dangerous! How terrible. Let’s let all these kids die instead. NEXT.

It goes without saying that Uvalde failed in every sense with their police response, procedures, and press follow ups. They are still doubling down and refusing to own up to this as a catastrophic failure of their department. But to me, it’s not even that. It’s completely consistent with how law enforcement responds to shit like this. As tragic as this whole thing is, I’m not shocked. I doubt anyone my age is. You didn’t get a proper American high school experience if you didn’t hide in a classroom and text your parents you love them at least once.

Now we get to prepare for the plethora of liberal campaigns that will come in the wake of this, just like with Parkland. Walkouts, protests, shallow speeches from every American politician ever, corporate charity work, the whole shebang. “This was a tragedy. We want to ensure this never happens again.” But it will, and nothing will change. Just another day in God’s favorite country.

I’m depressed. There’s not much else to say. I hate when this happens because most of the beauty of life just gets sucked away and I can’t force myself to feel better because if it were that easy, I’d never be depressed. No amount of rational thought can fix it. “It’s in your head!” Yes, good job, where else would it be? Where did you think it was? A fair bit is hormonal, admittedly, but I don’t think “my glands” is a great answer to the question.

Recently (as in the last month) I have been sleeping for 11+ hours a day when I usually sleep for eight or nine. I stay in bed for a couple more hours because I can’t think of anything good to do, even if I have projects to work on. I burned some CDs and stuff last week and that’s basically it. The motivation is completely gone. Honestly, I couldn’t even tell you what I do all day… I watch a lot of House now. I eat like, one meal a day. And I talk to people online. Vic hasn’t really been keeping in touch so I have literally no one in real life to talk to and hang out with, at least no one my age. I know that’s why I’m always sad and listless. I feel kind of like a bird who lost its eggs and has nothing to sit on, nothing to take care of, only time to waste until next season. I desperately crave company and I can’t think of a single way to get it since everyone is home for the summer. Meanwhile I’m trapped here at Stockton.

My drug use hasn’t been bad like it was the last time I was like this. In fact, I’m smoking much less weed. When I do it makes me feel normal and happy and I think that’s how people become addicted to things like that so I’m taking it easy. This being said, I cry so regularly now that I make sure I get it out before I shower or wear makeup. It is tempting to just be high all the time. Living like this is so fun and quirky!

This is all that has been on my mind really. I could tell you about The Exploited show or seeing The Dead Milkmen last week but it’s the same old story. Get high, end up on stage, leave covered in various unknown liquids, you know the drill. My radio show is up and running though so that’s been the one good hobby I’ve really been holding on to right now. 2-4 PM EST on Mondays, 91.7 WLFR. If anyone reading this cares to listen, you can find the streaming link easily online.

I’m going to Georgia soon. The 1st of June to the 5th. Maybe that will get my spirits up for at least a little while. I’ve been swimming and hiking by myself so at least I stay kinda active. Still, as good as it is to enjoy summer, something is just holding me back and I wish I could sleep the next two months away or something. Or maybe the universe can bring me a best friend to swim and hike and watch House with. Please?

I guess I was due to get Covid at some point. I came down with something a couple days ago and took a rapid test, sure enough, it was positive. The last 72 hours or so have been... uncomfortable to say the least. Especially since it's exam week. But I have the time to write, and since things are winding down with school and all I thought I'd do a larger life update.

I'm nearly done with my first year of college, and that feels insane considering I thought I'd drop out. I think of all that I've done and all that has changed about me since the beginning of the academic year and honestly, I feel like a completely different person. I really mean it. I must be completely unrecognizable.

As I wrote back in September:

"I'm excited to make new friends and memories. One thing I love about myself is that I'm always changing and I'm looking forward to seeing what college does to me. As long as I can keep up with my classes, I think I'll be alright. Everything else is just a cakewalk to me."

University has helped me learn a lot about myself, and has also given me an opportunity to take charge of not just my education but myself in general. I came out of high school with a pretty grim perspective on my future since I barely scraped by. Thinking back to what I was learning in high school, it's strange because I distinctly remember being disinterested and totally unengaged in subjects that I now learn about in my free time, just because. Old me didn't want to learn about much. Now I have tapped into all these different subjects and hobbies and I feel better than ever. It's a bit sad I guess because I wonder what the current me would've been like in that setting. I think about all the teachers I disappointed and while that isn't something that really weighs on me until I think about it, I would like to go back to MCST before the year ends and update some of my teachers who definitely knew I was tweaking in class. I have overcome a lot since that, and grown as a person. Nine months ago, I was pretty nervous about all of this. Since then, everything has gone up. I watched five seasons of Glee, adopted a cat, met someone that I love, gone to so many places, met so many people, saw so many shows... it was everything I needed.

So I can't really be that mad about being in bed with Covid right now, even though I wouldn't stop bitching about it yesterday. I'm quite happy, actually. Once my exams are totally over (May 3rd is the last day of the semester) I'll surely celebrate. Maybe jointly with Corey since that's his birthday. And then, life will be a dream this summer, with so many new adventures to be had and avenues of life to embrace. Once I get over this case of the sniffles, I'll be getting right to it.

A week or so ago I was in a really good mood. It was a nice day and I had some errands to run, so I was out in Galloway blasting my music and enjoying my day.

Someone once told me my happiness is contagious, and I guess maybe it is for some people. I've definitely met folks who don't entertain the same playfulness, but once in awhile I'll find myself sharing some interesting experience with a stranger. Honestly, I think it's just because my voice is expressive. Maybe I seem easily approachable when I'm in a good mood. I sure hope so.

Anyways, I went to get gas the other day at the local chainless gas station because it has the lowest prices at the moment. $4.01 a gallon last week when I was there, and now they are down to $3.97. The place was packed, cars waiting in a line and gas attendants frantic because, well... that's Jersey. I rolled up and fiddled with my music and began singing along to something I forget until one of the attendants came up to serve me. He was older, in his 50s or early 60s, and had a grizzled gray face. He kind of looked like a lumberjack or a person from a fantasy game. And after he took my card and I told him the usual, "fillerupregular please thank you", he came back and just asked me on the spot:

"How many miserable people do you think there are?"

I kinda laughed at first because it caught me off guard.

"You mean just in general? Or..."

"Just here."

Odd question. I turned it over in my head a bit and thought back to my experience in service positions. I couldn't tell you how many miserable people there are in New Jersey. Probably a lot. Especially when they have to buy gas and are in a hurry. The road culture is one of the worst things about this state. A lot of people are always in a rush.

"I'd say it's like 50/50."

Then he looked me dead in the eyes and said,

"Here it's more like 20/80."

I'm not really sure why he asked me that. Maybe just to express frustration with the nature of such jobs. We talked and laughed a little more about I forget what until my tank was full. I was surprised he stuck around considering the place was so busy, but it was just one of those things. One of those things that sticks with me until I finally write about it. I don't know.

I haven't posted in forever and it feels good. I needed a break. Partially because nothing really exciting was happening, and because I simply did not want to. So I didn't. And now I do.

My spring break just ended. My roommates both went home on the 12th which left me 8 days to spend alone at the apartment, and that week proved to be one of the best I've had in awhile. I didn't make any crazy plans for break so I mostly just chilled out and enjoyed being alone. After all, it's rare to have the time and personal comfort to dance shirtless in my living room to the same songs over and over again. Or cook an omelet... shirtless. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was shirtless for a majority of the time I spent at home last week. I'm weird.

I did have some things on the itinerary, though. Amanda came down to Galloway for a sleepover and for the first time since prom weekend, we got drunk together. This time it wasn't a complete disaster because we had everything we needed. I sipped wine while she had vodka with juice, and we progressed to drinking straight rum. We mostly just talked while drunk which is pretty much what we do anyways, but I made some realizations about Amanda as she discussed the situation with her boyfriend and college. She has become complacent now that she is happy and some things are hard to talk to her about now. Her boyfriend makes her so happy, and she says she wants to marry him, but I'm not particularly fond of the guy. Also, marriage after dating for six months? Come on. Her stability makes me fear the worst... Amanda settles down with some himbo in a nice suburban home and starts a family, suddenly there goes her ability to think critically or care about any of the world's problems. It's a life I dread and I know what type of person Amanda is. I wondered if I could chalk my bitterness up to the social frustrations of my own life, but in many ways I'm in a similar position to her. I can't exactly elaborate on that. But anyways, while drunk, we played some Battleship and ate a ton of junk food and listened to music. It was fun overall. The next day, we went to a diner in Absecon which was probably the best one I've found around here so far. And that was it as far as hanging out with friends.

On the 18th I went to the one place I actually planned to go to over break: the Naval Air Station in Wildwood, NJ. It was the warmest day we've had yet this year, in the 70s, so I took a nice drive there and went to the aviation museum. It's on the quaint side, but online I saw they had a Soviet MiG-15. Needless to say, when I saw it I couldn't help but jump like an excited child. I walked around it for like 15 minutes just in awe at the size and design of it. They also had my favorite plane, the PT-17, in both the Navy and Army livery so I was freaking out about that. I talked to the workers in the gift shop (such a sleepy little location) and they said that the MiG was authentic and served in China. I stayed for about an hour and a half there and then went back home and learned more about planes. It really is an obsession.

Then on the 19th I had the Tame Impala concert. My Dad got me the ticket for Christmas and Tame Impala is one of my favorite artists. I went to Philly and took an edible for it but it didn't work, and so it was the most painfully sober concert I've been to in recent times... combined with a horrible crowd which might as well have been phone screens floating in the air recording everything. I wasn't really ecstatic about it. I feel horrible but it just wasn't memorable at all. I think now that I know what underground shows are like, I just can't enjoy a stadium show the same. Maybe if I petition hard enough I can get Tame Impala to play PhilaMOCA or the FU Church, with no annoying Euphoria-ass looking kids. Oh well. I feel so old and decrepit.

But overall when I look back at break, I had a fucking awesome time in my eyes. I just did whatever I wanted for a week. Who can complain about that?

Anyways, I've been thinking recently about how I'm doing socially because I haven't felt very lonely in a long while. I only talk to three people on a regular basis: Corey, Connor, and Vic. Maybe I just had to get used to how things are. I can't really tell if it's healthy or not but I'm happy so I'm not going to overthink it too much. The rest of what I need to write about regarding that will be a private entry, of which there have been quite a few recently. If it looks a bit sparse here right now, that is the reason why.

Radio is going well. School is alright, but I could be doing better. I'm trying to get on birth control soon and also get a job. So that's probably the stuff I'll be talking about in future entries. But for now, I'm in class and not paying attention so I should probably go.

I love when I listen to music and it brings me back to a specific place or memory. The other night I was listening to Lonerism (one of my favorite albums) and it took me right back to the top bunk of that cabin at a Girl Scout camp in Ohio, where I listened to it for the first time. It's such a pronounced and clearly defined memory. I was wearing my Gilly Hicks pink sleepwear and laying on top of my bedding because it was hot. For the rest of that trip I was infatuated with that album, and I still am, but nothing beats that feeling when you first discover some of your favorite music.

When I think about my time in Ohio, I am convinced it was magical. Being far from home makes me feel both completely independent and out of control at the same time, and that's why I like it. In Ohio, all I had to do was take my time and immerse myself in the beauty of Kelley's Island. I wish I could go back and just indulge myself in freshwater research and monarch tagging all over again. I'd do that year after year if I could. I've gone on a few of those Girl Scout hosted trips before, and I somehow always seem to forget the people I met. But I remember what I learned, and my individual interactions with nature while I was there. And also the music I listened to. When I listen to "Music To Walk Home By" I really feel like I'm back in the place where I first listened to it.

I want to do a lot of travelling in my life, and I have done a bit already. I've seen more of this country than most I'd say, from Maine to Florida to Washington to Arizona and a significant area of what is in between. This country has remarkable natural beauty and strange, diverse cities. I want to see much more of it before I die, but I also want to get the fuck out of America and see everything else, too. I wonder what amazing places I'll have been to 20 years from now. I will gladly live in a small house and put money aside just to be able to travel. And maybe one day, I won't live here. The idea is so tempting I don't know what to do with it. To think that people live and die in the same stupid suburb they were born in is so confusing to me. I will definitely make sure that will not be happening to me.

I am burnt out again, and in most capacities, I am bored.

What really is there to do around here? Coursework, sure. Hang out with Vic, get high, go to the convenience store purely out of boredom... and that's it. You need money to have a good time around here, at least in winter. It's brining me down. I'm definitely not on my peak game at the moment and that feeling of slipping is reminiscent of high school. I feel like I'm becoming useless to myself again, and that's the last way I want to feel.

I don't get it. Recently I've felt that I've had everything I've ever wanted in my life, shouldn't it feel spectacular? In many ways it does, but not overall. I think I am just sad or something. I'm wondering if it might have something to do with my poor eating habits recently, although as far as I can tell that is a side effect of being bummed out. This past week I've only made food for myself once a day out of obligation, and that has to catch up with me at some point. It could also just be that my workload keeps me on my toes, in which case, I need to relax. Nothing can be perfect all the time, right? But I am terrified of failure. Oh well, that's life I guess. Knowing myself, whatever it is will work itself out in time. The next entry I'll probably be just fine and dandy again.

"When you jump off this stage, you will never fall. You will never touch the ground."

On Friday I saw The Casualties at the FU Church in Philadelphia. I got the tickets a few weeks back because it had been awhile since I got out of the house to do something fun, and I hadn't seen a show yet this year. I'm not hugely familiar with The Casualties (although I was with their opening bands) but this show had to be, by far, the best one I've been to.

The FU Church is a pretty popular venue in Philly despite the size. It can hold about 40 people safely, but 60 people if there's a show going on. In the venue area is a dimly lit little stage with this... I want to phrase this delicately because it cracks me up... this educational ABC's carpet. It's comedically childish and belongs in a kindergarten, but I assume it's there so the music equipment can keep a grip with all the movement on stage. Aside from punk shows, this venue also hosts bible reading, slam poetry, and other community events. But for Philadelphia's devoted underground music scene, it is indeed a divine place. Hence the affectionate nickname, "FU Church". I like it a lot.

So the other night I saw a few bands there. What I love about punk, and I've said it before, is that the crowd is always very inclusive and kind. I think probably a lot of people look at a mosh pit and see something ruthless and out of their element, and I can't blame them, but from my experience, everyone has each others backs in there. If a person falls they are immediately lifted back up and thrown back into the loop. Fallen phones and car keys are placed in a corner along with everyone's jackets and sweatshirts, which peel off as soon as the crowd starts getting fired up. And this crowd sure as hell was heated. Even in the first song, a small pit had already gathered, and by the time Stolen Wheelchairs came on nearly everyone was thrashing and screaming along. At this venue, there's a little area up by the front; a large amp stand that I like to hold onto or hide under to avoid injury all the way up there. The band is only a few feet away from there, and I can dance as much as I want without getting sucked into the middle. Usually I don't get worked up enough to take the risk and join a mosh pit since I'm small and desperately uncomfortable with physical touch. But I was ecstatic that night. Whatever it was, whatever was happening got the adrenaline pumping through me and eventually I found myself inching closer and closer to the front of the stage. Eventually, the lead singer of Stolen Wheelchairs jumped above me on the amp stand and flung himself off into the crowd, then got carried back. From that point onward, the strange array of both casual and fashionable punks were jumping into a dense mass of flailing people.

At around 10:00, The Casualties came on and encouraged everyone to basically do whatever they wanted. I, too high off hormones to really care at that point, smiled and danced with the lead singer of Stolen Wheelchairs, which could've made my night alone. What an honor. I contemplated whether or not I had the courage to go and jump off the stage and let all those disgusting, sweaty, unfamiliar hands touch my body but decided against it. Until, that is, a man in front of me turned around and put his hands on top of each other. I didn't know what he was gesturing at first, and then it clicked. He was offering to throw me up into the crowd. I didn't even hesitate at that point, and I shocked myself, but I put my dirty, beer and spit-covered boot up on there and was lifted above the sea of people, who then floated my body to the stage. Mister David Casualty was like, right there. Just screaming next to me. So I jumped back in, and was carried like the Queen of fucking Sheba for 15 seconds of the most concentrated and intense joy I have experienced, until my holy boots hit the ground once again. I really felt the love in that short time. I was lifted by so many people who couldn't give a fuck who I was or what bizarre position my body was being pushed into. It was otherworldly, like a scene of magic realism. Just immensely powerful for me.

Maybe this makes me sappy, but punk not only challenges me to be myself, it challenges me to overcome things I don't have the opportunity to without it. Dressing the way I want, asserting myself, joining the crowd, being confident, that kind of thing. I remember at my first show I felt completely out of place and stuck in my compulsively formal ways. There used to be a feeling of imposter syndrome. I think back to that versus where I was last Friday and I see that I've found something truly special and important to me. There is so much love in it for something that seems so hateful. I love the punk scene here in NJ and PA. Each time I get out of the house, the good times get even better.

After I was let down, I felt completely in shock. It must have been apparent on my face, because when I made my way back to my usual spot, a woman of about 35 or 40 looked over at me and smiled wholesomely. I guess she saw the whole occurrence from beginning to end and put it together that I don't do that often. From then on, my anxiety was gone. Alcohol, water, and other questionable fluids flew around the church, all over the floor and the comical ABC's rug, which I hope gets cleaned before Saturday Night Bible Study. My eardrums were so blown out that I couldn't even tell what song was playing, but I danced and shouted anyways. I was covered in sweat, just drenched. It was just intensity in its highest degree. I walked out not hearing a thing, but managed to thank the man who enabled me to crowd surf. He asked how old I was, and said that when he was 18 someone did the same thing for him. I sat down a bit outside and then managed to get myself home despite the hearing handicap. The feeling stayed with me until I walked in the door and came back to reality.

I love heavy, fast, loud music. Last year I would've shied away from it altogether. "Too overwhelming" or "too harsh". Now it's all I want to listen to and all I want to see. I really was in a place of spirituality that night.

Well today was stressful.

$243 down the drain at the vet today... it's not a huge deal but I'm not exactly happy about it. Gibraltar has some issues with fur loss and cat acne. I'm just glad I have peace of mind since it was stressing me out all week that I didn't know what's up with him. Fortunately it's nothing serious, well, except for my bank account. It's fine, it's over now. Stress, as present as it is in my life, is becoming easier to manage. I think.

Today is Valentine's Day. Honestly, I've always been one for the holiday despite never participating in it. I like the color scheme a lot and I'm not sure people get that but that's my whole fixation with it. Everything is pink, red, covered in hearts, and there's chocolate. Doesn't get better than that, although I guess I didn't like spending this one in the vet office. It's fine though, because I got to wear my favorite pair of Valentine's Day socks.

I haven't been feeling very lonely lately. I know, shocker. There's a few reasons why, but one notable change I've seen in myself is that I don't want to get close with anyone at school. It might be from stress, but for some reason I think it's a good thing to have less distractions and social obligations right now. I hate being coaxed into social situations I don't want to participate in and it can be hard for me to say. Recently I dealt with a very clingy classmate of mine and it was a huge fucking relief being able to refuse his attention and tell him to stop investing himself in my life. I guess I just feel like I can't deal with it. I'm invested in the people I want to be invested in, and I'm surprisingly happy with how things are.

So yeah. maybe that makes me lame. I prioritize a lifestyle that I've found to be conducive to my overall happiness and I will ride this wave as long as I can. It's probably not very exciting to most, but as someone who was convinced they would always be a failure in high school, nothing gets me more excited than having a propensity to work, learn, and succeed.

Although, on the topic of success, I will admit that I haven't been finding it in radio. You know, the industry I want to have a career in. It's a long story. I won't talk about it until I make up my mind about sticking with it. On one hand, I really, really want to be successful with broadcast media. Few things call to me the way this does. But on the other hand, I know I can't force that and I may have to stubbornly accept that DJing isn't my path. Whatever happens, I know I always have my writing to carry me. Recently I wrote a press release for one of my classes and my professor commended it, so it will be in the school paper this week. I have skills I am confident in, it's just a matter of settling in a position where I can support my lifestyle and just be happy.

Also, my birthday is coming up. I will be 19 on March 6th. I am not looking forward to this because it makes me feel old. One more year of being a stupid teenager left... and then I get to be even dumber in my 20's. Can't wait. I still feel like I'm 16.

I will fly into London, and then go from Heathrow Airport directly to Westbury. I'm staying from August 17th to the 30th, which will give ample time for me to drive Corey insane. We are going to go to Bristol and Frome and wherever the fuck, I don't really care, I'm excited out of my mind. For years I've dreamed up those "What if we met?" hypotheticals with people... it's shocking to think that I have the power to make something real. I'm both ecstatic and terrified- definitely nervous as much as I am pumped. I think back to times in my life where I would give anything to meet a person in real life. All of those hopes fizzled out as the years passed and we found ourselves growing apart, incapable of making anything come true. What I felt then when I was close with those people was in retrospect a bit misguided considering the types of people they often were, but it was just a relentless yearning. I was frustrated by the fact that I would probably never meet them, and I didn't. For a few people it is still sorrowful to think about what could've been and what never was. I dread to think of having that happen again, especially now that I have the freedom to make it work out.

It is likely unsurprising that the inability to interact with my closest friends in person growing up affected me negatively. I still find it difficult to make close friends in real life, and I can't say I get close to them the same way. The way I see it, the internet is a portal to escape the pool of people in my daily life and all the given commonalities they share just from living where they do. I like being around them, but it's hard to find people who are just vastly different to me in terms of lifestyle. I value the relationships that challenge my perception of the world and open me to new things. That holds a lot of weight to me. At the same time, I find it nearly impossible to meet people who are like me, in the areas where it matters, at least. Emotionally I feel that I can be a bit demanding of people. I guess that's how I'd put it. In the humongous schema of all my friends, there are very few who I feel just "get it". I can't really find the words for it, but those are people who I value so, so deeply. Patient, compassionate, engaging people. I've said it here before but I like when people bring out the best in me. It's amazing that connections like that can exist online, and that it's easier for me that way.

Aside from that, there are other real life limitations that make the internet more conducive to deep connections for me, hypochondria and social anxiety being the main ones. It's often a struggle for me to exist around people physically. Being touched can be unsettling and even anxiety-inducing, and I just ooze discomfort and awkwardness all the time around people my age. It may be irrational and frankly not very apparent but it is an obstacle, almost like a mental firewall. I am working on it in therapy and I hope to be rid of it one day, but for now the internet is a place where I can be free of all of those fears. My internet friends get to see an elusive side of me. It makes this opportunity that I've just guaranteed myself pretty unique. I don't think I will have the same physical limitations with Corey because I already know him, but I can't be 100% sure. I can usually think of a person and accurately gauge my physical comfort with them but I've never been able to "test" that with someone I've never actually been around. So we will see. If things are how I suspect, it would be good progress with pushing my boundaries. But then again, so will travelling alone to the UK. It's bound to be an interesting trip. I can't even express my emotions in writing.

The next six months, I surmise, will be quite long.

On Thursday I was let out of one my classes early. Left with three hours between my classes and very little to do besides write, I went up to the F-Wing and sat in an empty classroom by myself.

Stockton's facilities look new and chic, but when given the chance to examine them closely, it seems that isn't really the case. In the room I was in, a few of the college-style desks had their matte finished peeled off to reveal a layer of wood underneath, in which various inscriptions from students over the years were compiled. I looked over these desks carefully, and I guess there is a sort of intimacy to thinking deeply about thoughtless scribbles. In it you can find love confessions, deep-seated hatreds, stick figures in various states, and antiquated jokes dating all the way back to the ancient mid-2000's. I don't know what about defacing a desk feels so charmingly human, but it does.

After staring at desks for a long while, I took a seat near the high-rise windows and watched the people below. The sunlight comes through only on that last line of desks, and although I normally sit in a different row in that room I didn't want to budge. The blinds are always left up, and the metal chains hang down and sway slightly from the air of the very slightly rusted steel radiators. I flicked the bottom of a chain in front of me and watched a ripple of energy climb up and then return to the bottom with a writhing movement. If you play with the intensity just right, you can keep the oscillation going for a good while, a useless observation but an observation nonetheless. For the remainder of my time, I sat in the light and sang quietly to myself until the tranquility was broken by the boisterous arrival of my classmates. That period of about an hour seemed to go by in an instant.

Last semester a sort of bizarre thing happened where people began demanding I start an official "Bagel Club" at Stockton. It started because I would always get bagels after class on Thursdays, and when people started to realize that, they wanted in. By the end of the semester I was driving a loaded car to the bagel shop after Mass Comm and although we all joked about making it a club, push came to shove, and here I am with a petition in hand today with Stockton's Unofficial Bagel Club Committee. Now, these people aren't exactly people I see myself getting close with, but we do have a similar desire to see this club get officiated. With me as president, I was honestly unsure I'd want the weight on my shoulders but it isn't like I have anything better to do. So Stockton Bagel Club may become real, well, if we get enough signatures. I think it will be good for me if it means I get to work and talk with other people regularly.

The thing about Bagel Club is that the idea is very simple. All we need is a designated space and a $400 yearly budget to support our organization. We are trying to pose it to the student senate as a place for people to unwind and socialize with their peers over some damn good bagels, and hopefully with my meticulous wording we are able to get what we're looking for. Today, me and the vice president are occupying a table at the club fair on campus today to try and solicit supporters. With enough signatures on our club petition, the senate will be required to look at it. So we will see where it goes.

Today is also a big day, or at least I hope it will be because the school radio station (WLFR) is having its kickoff meeting. This will be my last chance this semester to join the station. Frankly, I am intimidated by the idea of being a DJ purely out of inexperience, but even if I work myself up about it I know I'll probably get used to being on air with the proper training. I'm looking forward to it, but I don't know what to expect.

I’ve had an immense interest in aviation and flying for as long as I can remember. It’s one of those things that I sit and think about constantly, multiple times a day at times. I don’t know what it is about flight and gliding that has such a grip on me, but it just does. This lifelong passion has luckily given me many fascinating experiences and observations while growing up, from catching butterflies to going up in an open cockpit plane. I feel that many of my happiest moments have been around birds and planes and things of that sort, and every time I reignite my will to learn about flight I find myself even more and more humbled by all that encompasses it, from evolution of species to evolution of human creation. It really is just a wonderful thing.

One thing I have done since I was young of is imagine what it would be like to have huge angel wings and be able to fly. It’s a very common dream for many people I think, because humans just find the idea of flight attractive. We can sit and contemplate what it would be like, where we would go, what we’d see. For me I think if I grew a pair of wings right now, I’d fly to Ocean City and Atlantic City. I like to imagine looking down at all of the lights and microscopic structures below, like looking out of a plane but it’s all right in front of me instead of outside of a tragically tiny window. It would be overwhelming to witness everything I know on the ground from above I think, particularly the ocean. I had an experience like that once at my hometown’s local airport, where I went up in a Cessna and flew over northern New Jersey. I could see all the way from Pequannock to New York City, which is hardly possible from the ground. From the sky, the Earth seems so small and peaceful. I feel that every time I get to fly anywhere. If I had wings I could escape everything that drags me down on and to Earth, and I would probably become addicted to it. It would go beyond completing my life. Maybe one day the feeling will be satisfied with a pilot’s license, which I hope to get later in life.

I am also really into birds and birdwatching, and keep a tabbed field guide of birds that I see. I like raptors best because of how their wings are especially maneuverable and efficient for hunting. The evolution of birds and other flying species is something I know a lot about and love to talk about with other interested people. Archaeopteryx, the transitional species between dinosaur and bird, is my favorite extinct animal ever since I learned about it in taxonomy class in high school. It’s incredible how nature can over-engineer an animal over the course of millions of years until it is able to fly, and with such grace and efficiency. It’s really just marvelous to me.

In late elementary school, my dad started talking to me about his time in the Air Force and I fell into the world of plane hobbyists. We used to go to airshows together all the time, fond memories that I still hold close. I consume a worrisome amount of information regularly about planes and their histories, specifically airliners. Traveling by air is generally my favorite part of any trip. To this day I still daydream about flying on a Boeing 747, in which case afterwards I would feel content and ready to die. It’s weird because my dad actually hates flying and would rather have his feet on the ground. He doesn’t exactly share my excitement. Still, I wish he could see how much I really know about planes now and how he helped inspire that within me. We have gone to such cool landmarks of aviation history together and seen some extraordinary aircraft. My favorite plane has for a long time been the PT-17 Stearman Kaydet, but I also like the De Havilland Comet, MiG-25, and the Lockheed C-5 (as well as their respective histories). Since I live near an international airport and the military base my dad served at, I get to see my fair share of planes here and often at low altitudes. If I hear a plane, I tend to look up and stare at it. Coincidentally, “plane” was my first word.

The closest I’ve been to feeling like I was flying was when I went hang gliding at 13 in the Outer Banks. The guide I went up with caught a draft and we stayed up there for over 15 minutes. I am terrified of falling, but when I looked down from 7,000 feet up I felt overcome with pure joy. The wind was through my hair, and the earth was all the way down there, and it was like I was physically and emotionally zoomed out from the rest of the world. I guess it’s like a mild version of what astronauts feel when they look back at Earth from space and start crying. Those 15 minutes felt like a wonderful eternity, and I know I have to do that again in my life. It was incredible.

I feel immensely lucky to have things I’m interested in like flight. It is such an enriching hobby to have. In my life, I want to learn as much about it as there is to know and more. My knowledge about things relating to this outweighs anything else I know, sometimes filling the gaps of actual practical knowledge I should probably have. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m just like, really, really into flight, and I’m sure I will be until I die.

Back in November I was at the Goodwill up in Egg Harbor looking for a DVD player. While I was there, I came across an old Aiwa stereo system with a 3 disc changer and the original stickers still on it. I love the look of old technology like that. The late 90's glossy plastics and interfaces really scratch an itch in me. I've wanted some sort of apparatus in my room for awhile. Now, I'm not experienced with stereo systems in the slightest, nor do I know anything about setting them up or fixing them. I figured while I was there, the thing was only $12.99 anyways, so why not take on a new project and see if it works? I got it on a whim, and when I got home I was quick to start testing it out.

What immediately caught my eye was that the disc changer was skipping a lot, or rather it was just incapable of loading a disc. The cassette player worked just fine, but the volume dial (as smooth and high quality as it seemed) hardly worked. These were the only noticeable issues I found with it, and after doing some research it was clear that these were common problems in these vintage systems even in their heyday. The model I bought, the CX-NA31, was released in 1996 so I had a shred of justifiable doubt. After taking the thing apart and cleaning out the inside with isopropyl alcohol, it seemed as if this one was not stored properly or belonged to a smoker. There was a pretty thick layer of grime on the laser, and I was hoping that would solve the CD "flicking". It did temporarily, but as I've learned the CD players in these old Aiwa speakers tend to crap out rather quickly. It's a shame, because the other hardware in the system was in perfect working condition considering its age. These systems would definitely have a much higher value today if the CD players in them were better, especially since CDs are still a popular physical medium for music. I digress. With the CD player busted, I knew that the stereo probably wouldn't be a permanent addition to my room. Regardless, I got to work on the volume dial immediately. When I took it apart (painstakingly) there was some corrosion of the motherboard and lubricant from the dial was everywhere. It was at that point that I realized I may have wasted $13. I ordered a remote to adjust the volume in the meantime while I worked on the CD player, but I spent all day yesterday working on it and still couldn't get it in the working order I would need to use it regularly. Still, it was fun getting to tinker with an old piece of tech like that. I'm going back to Goodwill today to check out another stereo system I saw there that would work with the speakers I got.

I know it seems sort of weird but I'm walking in there with a screwdriver, a cotton swab, and a Candlebox CD. I need to make sure the laser disc works before I drop money on it. Hopefully they allow me to test it in there. That Goodwill has racks upon racks of technology, from vintage woodgrain speakers to metallic 2000s portable players all the way up to cheugy iPod accessories. It's all sort of thrown carelessly on the shelves in a huge tangle of cords. I've heard that many thrift shops overseas don't take in used technology so I'm glad we have it here. The prevailing problem with having this stuff in shops, in my opinion, is that there is no accessible way to test an item before you buy it. Most people I assume wouldn't want take a chance on something used or have to spend time and money getting it fixed. If there was an area for testing these items, or even just a power strip for fucks sake, I think people would be much more motivated to test and purchase a piece of used technology. With how quickly things go obsolete these days, even if the impact of my proposition is negligible, at least some older pieces could be put to good use again.

I will probably write an entry about the next stereo system I buy. I was honestly very impressed with the sound quality and software performance of the Aiwa. If I'm lucky, I'll find a system that I can use long term in my room. I'm so sick of my smart speakers.

My dad is a person who I truly love. It's honestly a shame I haven't talked about him more here. I've noticed since I've gone to college that he really makes an effort to spend time with me and I'm glad that it has been something we prioritize when I'm around. For all of my life, I can't really think of a time where things were tumultuous between us, although we've had our fair share of parent-child arguments. Even in those memories, the thing about my dad and I is that we know how to apologize and make it up to each other. We can go back to having a stable relationship in no time.

I'd describe my dad as a pretty classic conservative middle-aged man, which I guess is sort of ironic considering my... unconventional beliefs. A few years ago he told me that I should always fight for what I think is right even if he doesn't agree with it, so that's more than enough for me. He likes knives and guns and leatherworking and would probably do anything for this family even though he's pretty edgy about it. Everything he owns is in some way "tactical" and August and I like to joke about that with him. He takes himself seriously sometimes about it but we have him figured out to a T- all you have to do is say "boobs" to him and he'll start cracking up. Despite being traditionally ignorant, he has always supported his kids and our identities. However, unlike August, I have the advantage of sharing some interests with him, like music and knife collecting. Those things have made us much closer and we get along really well. He's generous, too, and he gives solid hugs. He's an admirable father and I have always looked up to him. When I was younger I wanted to be just like him, and at this age I still appreciate him deeply for everything he has done for me.

One of my most distinct memories with my father was when I was eight. We were on vacation in Ocean City, and we were driving home after crabbing in the afternoon. I was buckled up in the back of his 1998 Jeep Cherokee and "My Hero" by Foo Fighters was playing on the radio. He was singing it sort of quietly the way he does while driving, and from that point on, I always associated that song with him. It's one of those songs with a clear-cut memory attached to it that I hold close. My eight-year-old brain thought "Hey, my dad is sort of my hero. This song was basically written about him." I never revoked that title.

My dad is human, though. He has a few weaknesses, albeit they are nothing compared to his wife. My dad is not exactly confrontational unless he really has to be, and has gone down some weird constitutionalist pipeline which was so annoying during the Trump presidency. He can be hot-headed and say hurtful things he regrets, and sometimes he yells instead of actually arguing. It holds more weight coming from him so it's easier for him to make me upset. He also takes my mother's side in his ignorance and can even come off as strict, but that was never really a problem growing up and isn't a problem now since I'm in college. It's hard to approach him about emotional stuff or some of my interests, but I can't tell if that's me or him. Sometimes I just have no idea what to talk about and our car conversations are a bit contrived. I'd take that over the proleptic arguments that seem to happen when I talk to my mom. I guess the difference between him and Mom is that he has the rationality and conviction to identify when he's wrong instead of feeding into his ego or exercising a ridiculous level of control. It's hard to describe his downsides when we are ultimately an amicable duo, though. I like to be around him and he likes to be around me. He shows me affection and protects me. He is able to say and prove that he loves me.

On Thursday he asked if I wanted to go to the thrift store with him. On the way there I asked him what he needed and he said "nothing, just thought it would be something to do". We got lunch after and I was able to get his perspective on the ordeal with Mom. Even though I might not agree completely with where he stands on it, I can tell he's just doing what he thinks is best and his best isn't unagreeable enough for me to deem it unacceptable. In the end he assured me, holding back tears, that all he wants is for August and I to be happy, healthy, and safe.

And with that, I segue back to the state of this family. I've gotten everyone's point of view on it. That's some quality journalism right there, huh? August sent me a long text from the heart the other day, clarifying that they recognize Mom's behavior as abuse. They like to run from their problems though, and with the pressure they've had on them over the years I can't blame them. My mom asked me the other day if I knew if August was trying to cut them off, and the answer is pretty much yes. Yet, I didn't tell her and said it wasn't my place to confirm that if I knew. Dad says Mom is afraid of losing us and I can tell he is, too. I'm not losing Dad ever, but everything about my mom makes me want to run the way August did. Dad is worried. Mom is worried. August is stressed. Obviously I am, too. I know all of this, but I can't be the one to patch this family back together. Unless Mom sees a therapist I doubt anything will change at all. August said they want to bring that up with her, so we will see how it goes. Right now I am just thankful for what I have been able to establish with my father and sibling amidst all of this. Admittedly, I am afraid that if I distance myself from Mom, Dad will be a part of that. I would hate for us to drift apart or have awkwardness because of it. At the very least, August and I are pretty much on the same page. My connections with these people are important. I will do my best to preserve and strengthen them. I'm really not keen on losing my dad in all of this, but somehow I think that would be difficult. He's my hero, after all.

I adopted a cat. His name is Gibraltar, after the island in Ohio (not the British Overseas Territory). He's 8 months old and a bit of a handful, but I think I chose well. He's a good cat as far as I can tell. It's only been two days after all.




I still can't believe I was able to somehow pull this off. I'm even more excited to go back to college and have something to come home to besides the lizards and my psychotically clean room. I hope Gibs stirs up some chaos to keep me on my toes, but judging by the state of my curtains at the moment, I think he's doing a pretty good job.

The anxiety has been hard on me lately and I can't say I'm in the best shape. That's why I'm happy to say I'm seeing a therapist again, this time over video call, but I'm not complaining. I met her for the first time today and it as a positive experience. She specializes in the highly specific OCD behavior that I deal with, something I've never received the right care for so I'm really hopeful that it will work. While this may be my last option left, it is also the one that's most likely to work. This, in combination with Gibraltar, should help me stay balanced while at school.

As for Pequannock, well, a new layer of contention has just been thrown atop an already overwhelming pile. I'd honestly rather not talk about it because it's a waste at this point. Six more days until I'm home and happy again, and with another $750 in my pocket to last me while I get settled with my courses and find a job there. As for now, I guess I'm still in limbo. Frankly, the thing getting me through at the end of the day (as much as I hate for my happiness to be largely contingent on people) is the company of my friends. Especially Corey, who always manages to brighten my mood after a long day and end on a pleasant note. Connor and Amanda are great as well, although I talk to them less frequently. I'm really appreciative of what my friends do for me, even if they don't think much of it. I could go on for hours about it probably, but I don't think that's healthy.

And for the other things going on in my life, I've actually been struck with a spell of workplace drama recently. The story is too long and too confusing to explain fully, but essentially I made an unintentionally mean-spirited joke after one of my coworkers lied about something to me. I don't know why she lied to me, I don't care to know, and all I want to do is apologize to the person I hurt because of it. To keep it somewhat short, I discovered that a group of coworkers have been purposely setting up one of our managers to harass and gaslight her. I was under a different impression until I heard someone I considered a friend talking about how he and a few others manipulate the situation against her. I only found out because we all decided to pull a prank on her and it snowballed out of control. It's honestly really sad and I feel horrible about it, but I'm also disappointed in my coworkers for believing the bullying is deserved. I decided yesterday to take responsibility and tell management what was going on behind the scenes and the manager I told, Dan, described my confession as "emotional and mature" so I think it was the right way to go. Still, this was not a side of my workplace that I wanted to see or be apart of. You live and you learn I guess.

This week might be stressful with all that's happening. It will all pass soon enough though. I've got my ducks in a row for this upcoming semester and I'm excited to be learning and living again. Now I have a cat, a therapist, a brand new THC cartridge, and a good hunk of cash. Honestly, everything's coming up Ricky. Let's finish out this week strong.

Sometimes I get consumed by this thought that everything I say and do is annoying. Just now I tried to say to myself “you know it isn’t like that” but it made it worse. I feel like I’m too weird and too awkward that it makes me boring. Even today I expressed to an older work friend of mine that I was worried I was uninteresting at parties and he said it “adds up”. I pretended to be fine with it but I can’t stop thinking about it. I am constantly reassured of the fact that I don’t fit in. I am burdensome if anything. Like, I hung out with some coworkers the other night and I felt so out of place and quiet. When I was sat there with them in the car they said things about other people that I felt were cruel. I don’t want to think people are always mean and judgmental like that. I don’t feel critical of others like that and I hope I never am because I know I am ostracized in a similar way. It makes me feel like I shouldn’t talk at all. Like everything I say is completely worthless unless it inflates someone else’s ego. It stresses me out beyond belief that I can do nothing more than flatter people to get them to like me. Beyond that, I bring nothing to the table unless the person in question shares one of my highly specific laser-focused interests. You know, like nuclear incidents and mermaids and structural collapses and other normal things. I feel like many people blow me off when I talk about my interests. Everything has become a performance. When others don’t react to things I say the way I anticipate it makes me confused and anxious. Sometimes I ramble and I don’t realize it. I feel like I am being patronized constantly because my social incapacities are at the forefront of people’s impression of me. It makes me want to shy away from everyone and hide. I can’t tell if I’m right to feel this way or just pathetically sensitive. It’s a very lonely feeling.

So I've been keeping a blog for almost an entire year now. I consider 2021 to be "The Year I Started Writing" and I have seen so much improvement in so many areas, both personally and with skills. When I started keeping a regular journal, I didn't know that I would be going into a writing-heavy major so it has definitely come to my aid.

My first entries here are pretty basic. Mostly descriptive writing and imagery; there's a lot of entries I don't really care for anymore. When I look back at the first anecdotes I wrote, there is a distinct lack of detail that I feel I've grown out of with time. Dreamwidth, for me, is all about putting my daily experiences and emotions into words and to do that accurately takes time, patience, and usually hours in front of my keyboard. I have clearly become more efficient at articulating my thoughts and ideas, even in regular everyday speech.

I also attribute my sharper memory to regular writing, which has made me much more acute to detail than I ever was in the past. Putting something on paper makes gives it a permanent place in my brain. Most, if not all of things I've written about here are stories I can bring up off the top of my head and explain in full detail. It's a stark change considering I used to be quite scatterbrained and forgetful. Fleshing out a memory in full has made me a stronger storyteller, which I think will serve to benefit me in my future career. But even just with my personality, I am able to think more critically and make more connections between ideas. It has made this year one of the most important in terms of my beliefs and ethics.

I originally chose Dreamwidth because it is the place where no one expects a person of my age to be. It's sleepy, private, and very manageable compared to many modern social media or blog platforms. I have much more control over who sees my writing, and it is easily customizable which was a huge plus when I was looking for a blog site. This being said, I have also developed a love for this platform because the vibe is so different from the other mediums I interact with in my daily life. Here I can sort of unwind and talk freely. I don't set boundaries for my writing here like I do for other platforms like Instagram. It is, in every aspect, an outlet where I don't have to fear the judgement of others and I think that is fundamental in my self expression.

I think the most significant thing I have learned from 2021 is that I really do have a passion for writing. It is something I love to do, and I think about it constantly. Regardless of whether I'm writing about some stellar experience I had or bitching about my life, I truly enjoy every moment I am able to sit in front of my computer and manifest whatever it is I'm feeling. It has become an irreplaceable part of my life.

I am looking forward to another year on Dreamwidth, hopefully with more writing in these early months than last year. The winter months tend to be my roughest, but writing has put into perspective just how temporary (yet valuable) these experiences are. I already have some entry ideas in mind for this month and I am excited to talk about them.

Today I finally got to talk to my sibling.

I mentioned a few entries back that I was planning to go to Philly with August, but the COVID spike ruined our plans. Fortunately, due to recent events, we have been on good terms this past week. It feels good to have natural conversations and to get to know them.

Today, August asked me if I wanted to go to the convenience store. I was all up in a project and said no at first, until I realized I would totally regret not spending time with them. You know I like a person if I halt my fixations just to hang out with them. I was wondering prior to coming home how I might bring up talking about Mom when the moment arose, but with everything that happened on Christmas, it was fairly easy. We talked about it, and it wasn't anything tear jerking but I am so relieved that I have someone to talk to about this.

August said that therapy helped them understand how much of their issues were caused by Mom. Therapy also partially helped me come to that conclusion. We talked about how she projects all of her insecurities on us, and how she is so obsessed with treating us like girls. We both have distinct memories about being preteens and having her tell us we needed to start shaving. Bizarre things. August says that Mom is still overbearing with them, even though they live 800 miles away for most of the year. Through text I always found it more manageable, but maybe that's because I am still in New Jersey. Seeing as August was obviously my mother's favorite child, I imagine her concern is overwhelming and annoying. Also, August is one of the few people who have seen the extent of my OCD just from living with me. I told them how that impacted my relationship with Mom, who has always had an obsession with the appearance of my hair and told me in middle school that I would look "ugly at prom and graduation and throughout college" (as if I had a choice). Obviously I am not the only one who dealt with self-esteem issues created by Mom. August says that coming home is difficult because they are subject to her constant guilt-tripping and sobbing sessions, something they label as "suburban white woman syndrome". We agreed that she has no emotional intelligence, and we both deal with the same guilt. A person we hate also pays for our amazing lives away from her.

It was an indescribable relief to get that all off my chest, and I think August probably feels similarly. I think this was a necessary and forward step in our relationship.

Anyways, I've been up to the usual stuff. Or, well, usual in terms of North Jersey. Work has been awesome because I missed everyone there so much. The people I work with are so sincere and tight-knit. I also had an eye-opening conversation with a customer yesterday who is Jamaican and told me that many of the cultural products made in America are bastardized and modified to prioritize white demographics. It was interesting hearing his experiences with it because his ethnicity has such a rich culinary aspect. I love when small talk snowballs into full on conversations like that. In this case, he had asked me if I'm able to figure a person out from the food they buy, and somehow we got into a long-winded discussion about whitewashing. What a cool guy. I always feel lucky when people like that somehow end up on my line.

I just called my dad and we are going to stop by my apartment tomorrow to check on my lizards and fish. Lazlow is sick right now and I've been worrying about it all week. I did my best to treat him before I left for break, but 10 days is a VERY long time to leave a fish that needs daily water changes and unfortunately this was the soonest I could go back to check on him. I'll feel really horrible if he dies, even though I am confident I've done all that I can. Poor Lazlow. I think about him every day. Bringing him home with me was too risky, but maybe I will try that now because he needs treatment and I need the peace of mind. If he has died, I will be absolutely heartbroken. At least in that case my dad will be there to console me.

I’ve been sort of busy recently. I got my job back so that’s kept me busy these last few days, as well as seeing some friends while I’m home. Things are so-so right now, even though it’s 3 days until Christmas.

I did however have an awesome experience last Friday, this time out of my own effort and volition, and it required some pulled strings and meticulous planning. I decided I wanted to see a death metal show in Brooklyn whether my parents would let me or not. Knowing right off the bat that they would refuse to let me go if I told them, I decided to not tell them at all. If they were to find out, I would be in more trouble than I can even fathom because I’ve never betrayed my parents so hard before. This was a huge risk for me, but luckily I am a prolific planner.

Maybe back in the Golden Age of underground music, lying to one’s parents was much easier. Back then there was no phone tracking, no online transaction histories, no Metrocard or anything of the sort. Unfortunately, these were all limiting factors for me. Really the only huge hurdle was making sure I had the cash and means of getting about without my parents being able to see it digitally. So I took $40 out from the bank and prayed no one would ask questions. I told my parents that Amanda and I were going into the city to see the Rockefeller tree, a half truth since it was in my itinerary, but I assured them we would not be using the subways and would stay in Manhattan. And I did drag Amanda’s pop punk-loving ass along for the ride because I’ve been meaning to take her to a show just to see what would happen. She helped me cover my tracks, too, because Amanda’s a real one.

Anyways, I created a cover story so that I knew exactly what to say if my parents asked me about the day. Instead of going to the Lego store and crowded Bryant Park like loser tourists, Amanda and I took the L train to Brooklyn and had pizza margherita in a moody restaurant out in peaceful, foggy Brooklyn. Afterwards, we made our way to the tiny venue and experienced what I can only describe as the most ironic form of relaxation ever.

Gold Sounds is a rather quaint punk bar. Outside, a group of people in elaborate outfits were smoking and laughing amidst a melancholy and empty street. It was pretty tolerable for a rainy day in December outside, but behind the doors arose a vibrant and sweltering atmosphere of chain-clad patrons and blaring music. Two buff men sat at a table playing Connect 4 as others watched and cheered. A disco ball swirled above a line of people all waiting to get into the venue area, which could accommodate about 40 people. When we reached the front, a cheerful employee viewed our vaccine cards, took our money, and drew Ts on our hands so we could enter. In the box, sound techs played with a plethora of wires running from the sound booth to the shallow stage. Amanda and I sat on some haphazard chairs in the right corner of the room and waited.

I like the time before shows start, when you are just standing in the venue with a couple other people and the band is setting up. Amanda and I had conversations with a few people, including a washed up former punk double our age and a PA punk who I especially hit it off with. I have a tendency to meet interesting people, but I always seem to have the most in common with people at these types of shows. I personally think I identify with it the most. Amanda on the other hand had stars in her eyes talking to these people, and I really liked that. Some dudes we saw at the restaurant were there, so she was talking with them and they invited us out to drink. Obviously we couldn’t, but those gestures always make me unreasonably content.

And when the music started, we were immediately blown away. As usual, I succumbed to the noise easily and became totally present. Heavy, fast, loud music used to overwhelm me in a bad way but now I love being surrounded by it. It relieves all of the tension in my body. Headbanging with all those people, as well as one of my closest friends, was truly an unbeatable feeling. Frankly, once I was there herniating myself I felt a bit smug and proud that my mom didn’t know where I really was. I guess the teenage rebellion came a little late for me. Lying is not something I do easily, but even in a case like this I felt justified in my actions. Mostly because I was doing what I love with a person I cherish, and because I could prove to myself that I could exist outside of my parents’ parameters. Amanda and I had such a good time in Brooklyn, and I wouldn’t trade that night for anything.

After the show ended, we made our way back to Manhattan and took pictures at Rockefeller Plaza. The tree was gorgeous, and the night was so humid that looking up, the buildings all dissolved in the dispersed light. I’d never seen anything like it. In Port Authority, now at about 10:00, I played a public piano and we waited for the bus home. Amanda kept telling me how much fun she had, and I was so relieved that she enjoyed it that much. I might be the only person who knows she has that intense side to her, and I’m glad I was able to bring it out. The night was truly perfect. My cover story worked, so I can officially say it was a fuck ton of fun and undoubtedly worth it.

In other news, I worked today and yesterday. I’ll talk about work tomorrow probably since I have the day off. I’ve got a bunch of miscellaneous stories to tell.

I came home to Pequannock for Christmas break yesterday. I don't really know if I should count this place as home anymore because it really doesn't feel like it. When I'm at college, my parents miss me and our interactions through call/text are fine. When I'm home, their judgement weighs down on me and makes me feel like a caged animal.

The terror began when I got pulled over yesterday. I was petrified because first of all, I hate authority, and second of all, I knew a ticket would be another reason for me to get chastised at home. Sure enough, it was. Even though I skimped away with a $55 obstructed view charge, my mom was immediately up my ass about it when I walked in the door. Neither parent greeted me. My presence feels so burdensome. "Pay the ticket." "Start looking for jobs." "Take care of this or that." Or whatever. How about "Hello"?

It doesn't matter if I pull all A's my first semester. It doesn't matter if I prove myself to be independent. My mom's satisfaction with me is so impermanent and conditional. I could win the goddamn Nobel Peace Prize and she would probably just find something to berate me for instead of congratulating me. Now that I actually have things worth being proud of, I feel like they aren't recognized. And when I'm home, my independence seems to suddenly mean nothing to these people. It makes me feel restricted. Being in this house is suffocating. I understand now why August is never around.

My dad doesn't really seem to be helping the whole situation... sort of unintentionally. He can tell that I'm not thrilled to be here and tries to make things better but I'm just not in the mood. I want to hang out with him, I really do, but I know I'll end up going on a tangent because of how I feel right now. I have been so unbelievably stressed these past couple weeks and there is no way to put that into perspective. Turning down my dad when he wants to spend time with me, even if it's for a good reason, makes me feel rude and unappreciative. I know I'm too hard on myself but regardless, I'm going to make sure I correct that. Maybe I'll ask him to go fishing with me this week or something.

Awhile back, I deleted a few entries I had written about my mom. I'm going to put them back. They were written at points when I was not on good terms with her. It makes me sad to think the only way we can exist peacefully is through long-distance communication. Judging by how Thanksgiving went, I don't have the highest hopes for this month, but I will make the best of it.

Speaking of August, I don't remember if I ever mentioned them here. August is my older sibling. They are 21 and go to college for graphic design in Georgia. We didn't have a great relationship growing up, if you even count it as a relationship. I always assumed they hated me when we were younger but it turned out that much of their withdrawn and defensive behavior was due to mental illness. Nowadays, we both are in better places and recently we began talking again. They are in Toronto right now but will be home for a few days, and we are actually going to hang out. I've never hung out with August. We grew up in the same house but know virtually nothing about each other. I'm really excited to hopefully have a healthy relationship with them. In the past I thought that it would be difficult because they are closer with my mom, but I'm not sure that's the case anymore. When we talked the other day, it came across as if they are just as dissatisfied in this house as I am, and that's a pretty clear sign to me. I want to talk about the trauma my mom inflicted when I was younger and for years I've known that the only person who could possibly understand that is my sibling. Looking back, they had to have had similar experiences as a kid because I remember listening as my mom screamed her head off at them until they couldn't breathe.

So yeah, that's what's new. Great entry, I know. Fortunately, I just got a call from my old job and I'll be working 30 hours next week so I won't be in the house too often. I need the gas money.

Alone and left to contemplate,
had I a pair of wings,
I’d fly away and search the world
for the peace of wild things.

To live among the animals
and sense their lack of guile
existing in the here and now,
each moment spent worthwhile.

And free of life’s addictions,
material wealth and greed—
possessing very little,
according to the need.

But should I ever so depart
it’s uncertain I’d return,
for then I'd have a lifetime’s worth
of so much to unlearn.