Friday, January 30, 2004

This is just too sexy.

Also, put in a rough draft of the new pictures section. So far it's just, me, Zack, Casey, and the Puerto Rican soccer mascot, but if you've got nothing better to do, amble on over their a while. I really only launched it as somewhere to put up some drawings I hope to get scanned in eventually. And because I'm dead sexy, and the world should know about it.

On a lesser notes, I changed the links sidebar-- fixed the previously broken link to Jacquie's site and changed what was previously called "Mr. L's" site to "JohnnyLib's" site. Same person, but I though calling him "Mr. L" would make people confuse him for Mr. Ladd, whom he is not.

Only the most obsessive fan would notice these changes on their own. Please say you noticed.

On with it.
"So would you be depressed
If I attend that wedding, but only as a guest?
Such an unfaithful bride draped in dress
Spun with threads of my regret."
~From Autumn To Ashes

Reading random profiles, as I always do, I stumbled upon these lyrics in that of Chris something, I believe it was, some little green-haired fellow who has done well at hinting at his hidden inner depths, as overlooked by me when I knew him only threw the rides Jenn would give him from school. I could go on to talk about him and the unlikely relationship I would wish to have with him, but this post was supposed to be about music.

Anyways, those lyrics caught my eyes and hit pretty deep; there are all these suspiscions I have about myself, being someone who gets so lost in trying to uncover the truth under layers of, well, god knows what it is. Bullshit? Maybe. Assumptions. Probably. Expectations, I guess. I once asked Casey if he ever got confused, as I do, as to whether he felt something (guilt, I believe, in that instance) because he really genuinely felt it, or because he was expected to. I guess at the time he liked that I had asked that. It was one of those moments back when Casey and I were just starting to become "Casey and I" in all the splendor we are today--- why is it that the beginnings of things are always so much better than what they become? Is it because nothing would ever begin in the first place otherwise? Somewhere in there, I had a point, and I believe it was somewhat akin to this: I question myself. I fear that other people do. I get so caught up in figuring what parts of me are genuine and what parts of me are histrionics that I doubt everything, large and small. And one thing that hasn't escaped my web of doubt is my marraige.

It wouldn't be unfair to say that my marrying so young left my marraige open to certain problems that more mature ones would not have, problems of immaturity. At this point in my life, for instance, I have no learned how to completely let go of anyone or anything for my own good. I have no learned how to entirely get over people, I have not learned how to be truly unselfish. While my mom's advice has been worth so little to me throughout my life in other situations, I found one thing she's told me repeatedly before and since my marraige to be particularly useful in dealing with these realities: "You and Zack have time to grow up together," She's told me. This I find to be a profound truth and incredible relief-- while the common school of thought tends to be that, ideally, marraige would be a privelige of the adequately mature, my mother, who married young and enjoys and unbroken, if unappetizing, marraige thinks that I have time to grow into it. She's that's the difference between me and, for instance, my sister, who was forced to grow up by her child (now children) and was thusly stunted in her growth. And I believe my mother. I've heard so much prattle about what criteria a truly worthy couple would have that I had gotten to the point where I thought no one must be able to make a marraige truly work, and it was that philosophy that has so shaped my view of my own capabilities: If no one can do it, but everyone still does, why shouldn't I?

It's that kind of cynicism that one can really use as a life raft in this shit creek we're all in, that "I can't possibly be worse as all these assholes" mentality. Where optimism fails, the art of belittling others will always be there. And yet...

Doubt. Still doubt. Because I've made a career out of doubting everything. Because I have never really been shown anything solid enough to truly believe in, and even in the face of something as true as my love for Zack, even in this mind-altering state of elation, even in this place where strength could build a bed of faith for me, still! Still, there is ungodly pestilence.
It's these shortcomings in life, so cruelly juxtaposed with beauty otherwise unblemished, that redefine my lack of faith. Where once I was merely an Atheist, now I am wishing that there was a God just so I could kill him. Where once I was bloodless and cold, now my heart beats seemingly just so I can will it to stop. Where once I thought of suicidal youth as being an unevolved group of emotionally malnourished actors that I just happened to populate, now I think of suicide as the affirmation of the belief that life is wholly unfair.

There's almost no one to whom I've shown the reality of my feelings as of late. A hatred of life, I've found, fosters a hatred of people, and, when as advanced at this stuff as I seem to be, that tends to burn some bridges. My mind reels to think of the potential I've unleashed for ignorant encounters with ignorant people and their ignorant advice. Uninformed attempts to console and revitalize. People consider themselves above my contempt because I happen to love them: Be my affections for (you) as they may be, chances are that your opinion in this matter will spur on nothing more than my avoidance of you for weeks to come, should you choose to express them. It's only in this particular medium that I can be so blunt, so let me make no small point: If you're not either Casey, Zack, or someone in a position to offer monetary support so that I may seek treatment for my rather unfortunate circumstances, just don't fucking get into it.

It's odd what music can evoke. All I wanted to talk about was how those lines from that song-- though unfortunately performed by a band in which the lead singer has the voice of...well, an emotionally malnourished actor rather than the artist he just might truly be-- hit close to the part of me that doubts the validity of my marraige. The part of me that wonders if my love for other people in my life, a love that ironically I can only think to describe as "unbridled", takes away from what I share with Zack.

This post was supposed to be about music. Two songs, specifically, and the people who gave those songs meaning for me. The only ones I listened two, about five times each, as I wrote this. I never got to the second song, but part of it seems to have some relevance, so we'll end with that, without much context, if only because I understand it, if only because it's true, if only as tribute for the one person in my life it doesn't apply for at all and, ironically, the one who introduced the song to me in the first place.

"Someone tried to tell me something,
'Don't let the world get you down.'
Nothing will do me in before I do myself,
So save it for your own and the ones you can help."

On with it.

Thursday, January 29, 2004

Here's a website offering the work of a wannabe cartoonist who clearly couldn't find a publisher so he printed his garbage on T-Shirts and now makes a profit hocking this crap to the dregs of human kind. And now I'm an affiliate!

A few of my...well, I guess "favorites" is the word in question here, but it kinda makes me shudder:

I guess it's his...fresh sense of humor and delightful turn of phrase that endears him to his customers? No? All I can say is this guy would have made a killing in the calendar business. Like every other satan-sucking, dime-nabbing, soul-killing used douchebag of a commercial artist out there. I'm looking in your direction, Mary Englebreit.

Working at a mall during the holidays can really put you in a mood. But it's nothing that can be remedied by laughing at the humorous failings of others.

For instance, this comic:

It's all the fun of kicking an injured midget down the stairs. And now, you can get it on a T-Shirt! Isn't capitalism great?

On with it.

Wednesday, January 28, 2004

I always thought it was kinda strange when I saw my friends receiving e-mails from their own parents. I suppose if you're off at college or far away it makes sense, but these were people who lived with them. It's bad enough to have to avoid your parents in real life, but on the web, too? Inhumane!

It kinda makes you think about how desperate parents are to really connect with their kids at a certain age. They don't know how to relate, so they do it electronically (a magical fairyland where people too awkward to have flesh-and-blood relationships come together in a dizzying spectacle of grammatical cum shots, overused emoticons, and things far too banal to be on a webpage, but are.) In this way, they hope to get some sort of message across to their kids, despite their inability to share them in person: messages of love, messages of hope, messages of regret.

My dad's got my e-mail address now; his special messages come in the form of "humorous" forwards. This is his latest message:

Biker chicks.

And thus, the generational gap is bridged.

On with it.

Monday, January 26, 2004

Last post was September 24th. huh? Let's all catch up with the notable changes in Linda's life.

>I got a driver's license. That was in August, but I guess I never mentioned it. Unless you're important, then you probably knew.
>Zack's car died somewhere in there, so we went and bought a new one. 2002 Silver Ford Focus. Very happy with it. Good deal. Let's hear it for Larry Stewart's Auto Sales! (Least slimey sales pitch in the world, ladies in gentlemen. "You want the car? No? How about that one? Yeah? Okay.")
>Got married. October 18th.
>What, you want more on that? Why? You weren't invited? Too bad. Neither was anyone. You want pictures, I got them, but don't come bitching to me about how you weren't even asked to the most important day of my life...more like the most annoying day. Combine all the picture-taking from all 10 proms I've been to with all the misery of getting dressed and ready and trying to look perfect (but failing), and then leave out the cool things like "Baby Got Back" and Serena's and my provocative dancing techniques (though I would have been game if she would have stepped onto the floor. Who have I got to impress, the in-laws? Please.) On the plus side, Elorza made the drive up (Props.) and, oh yeah, I got bonded in marital bliss with the love of my life, blah blah blah, but anyway, you didn't miss anything that wasn't documented ad nauseum by a roving gang of trigger-happy photograhers. I just wish someone had given us stock in Kodak instead of presents.
>Moved to my uncle's largely unoccupied house in Gloucester. Got jobs at a calendar kiosk in a mall during the Christmas season. Got so much holiday spirit shoved up my holly jolly fanny that I contemplated taking Santa out with a sniper then sneaking away using Rudolph's hollowed-out reindeer body as a disguise. That would have made a great calendar.
>Got into a car accident. That was a bitch-load of fun, let me tell you. No one was hurt, etc.
>Jobs ended and, fed up by useless, idiotic Uncle/Lanlord rules, came home soon after the "Don't feed the squirrels, they are dangerous, viscious creatures" rule was enforced. Spent a damn long time moving, and....

That, my friend, takes us up to today. Now I just gotta find a new Maine job and suck up to all the people I blew off when I thought I'd never have to hang out with them again. Piece o' Cake. People love me for my charisma.

If all of what you read up there came as a shock to you, well, shit, I guess you just weren't important enough to keep informed. I've found that I totally hate talking to anybody (Read: Anybody other than Zack or Casey) about anything I think they might have a notable response to. All those insipid questions. "How'd your license exam go?", "What was the wedding like?", "What are you doing with a hollowed-out reindeer in your trunk?". Christ people, buy the book.

Anyways, being home (and back to my precious, precious WiFi) should leave a lot more time for blogging...though to tell you the truth, I would have had to make time for it regardless. Casey's gone and nosed in on my market, you see, and while I love my Casey-nova just to pieces, I CANNOT LET THIS PRICK GET MORE TRAFFIC THAN I DO. It's funny what one's pride will and will not allow. I can spend hours of my life glued to his commentary on such worthless bullshit as the socialogical deconstructing of various dorm halls at stonehill, "witty" things he's said to people of similar but-lesser intelligence levels , and his girlfriend's belts, and that's not beneath me at all, for some reason that totally eludes me, but should he put up a website that threatens to usurp attention from mine...well, war's on, baby.

Or maybe I just wanted to give him a shout-out on my site. Either way, he beat me to the elephant thing, so props.

Anyways, you'll be seeing more of me soon, so try to contain yourselves. If you think it's possible. Probably not.

On with it.