"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.