This blog is here so I can get things off my chest. It's probable that nobody will read these things except for me.
Writing is an important exercise, especially for me. I don't do it enough, and what I have written has been pretty good. I'm a natural, but even talents you seem to have been born with can atrophy. I have a lot of those, actually. Natural talents. I'm good at a lot of things. Probably more than I know. Unfortunately most of my talents aren't "useful" in the job market. I'm not good at monotonous things like counting change or memorizing inventories or retaining memories of events (although recently...). I'm better at things like professional dance, martial arts, other athletic activities (sports don't seem to hold my interest, however), video games, acting and singing on stage, and why not shamelessly use this opportunity to bring this tangent back home by mentioning writing.
I used to be reminded often to keep a journal. It's sort of a religious thing, so it didn't interest me much. I love God and I'm devout in my belief that He exists and knows all and loves all, but, probably because I was born into the church and take it for granted, I don't seem to be overly concerned with things like reading the scriptures and, to be perfectly honest (without shame because probably nobody will see this), going to regular meetings every Sunday. Instead I dress up, take my scriptures up the river trail, and read as much as I can before heading home around four. Seems contradictory with my earlier statement, yes, but it's a work in progress. (Again, this is a private blog, so I can excuse my own haphazard trail of thought that I feel coming on.) The reason for my nonattendance is because... well... I just don't like the people at church. I feel that they don't like me either, and this must be at least half true.
My hair is long. That's probably the first thing people notice about me. I like it that way, I think I look awesome (on good days). For some reason, in this little area that they call "Happy Valley" (both sarcastically and not), long hair on a male is a social sin. I'm a definitive outcast. The only friends I made were weirdos (and I love most of them) and the occasional actual crazy person that made my life pivot. (So much to write!)
Girls girls girls! I've had four girlfriends, and all but one of them have either stayed in or should have stayed in a mental hospital. I blew it with the fourth, that's a different story I won't soon forget. (I imagine myself causing blunt force trauma to my head at this point, but I don't do such juvenile things anymore.)
It's not so bad to filter your friends, is it? Maybe just in the long run. I have missed out on a lot I could have experienced if I had APPEARED more friendly. Lots of drama, too, I bet. That's fine though.
I'm worried I won't be able to get a job very easily. For some reason that I'm too lazy to investigate there is a shortage already, and plus I'm labeled as a dropout, even though I stuck with failing high school right to the end. I failed solely because of homework. I learned plenty, and I proved it with the tests, but for some reason practice is more important than demonstration to these nutters. At least I understand what impoverished hipsters mean by not being part of the machine. My only chance to support someone beyond my own self is to get the GED and do as much college as I can stand.
My mom told me something interesting the other day. Apparently she was told by God, through fervent prayer, that the reason I'm not just doing another year of high school is because it's more important for me to go on a mission. It gives me hope, and fear. Am I really that run of the mill? to go on a mission like everyone else? I really don't think I'm just another soul. Most people around here are from the tribe of Ephraim, to which is given the most power and the most responsibility. They've proven to me that I'm nothing like they are, without any effort on their part. I can't be one of them. I don't want to be one of them, and I have this terrible feeling that I AM one of them, just the same as them, another grain of the overbearing, overcautious, prejudiced, "All is well in Zion" sand dune that covered and choked the desert flower long ago. I want to get out of here... and maybe God is calling me to find out what it's like elsewhere, to either prove or disprove my uneducated loathing for this place and its people. Even if I am of Ephraim, I won't let it mean anything. I won't say I'm better than them; I'm just different.
To be honest, I am guilty of a sin. I cannot ever confess, because the leaders of the church have played up its abomination and terribleness in nearly every talk they give; I am so ashamed of myself that by condemning the sin, I too am condemned by those great (naive; it must be said of them sometimes) old men. However, I believe strongly that my salvation is strictly between myself and the One offering it. No bishop nor any man of authority can stand between me and repentance. It could be that I'm just being complacent, but it beats the alternative of surrendering my soul to the world. Without that belief, there is no hope for me.
It seems this entry had gotten very church heavy. There are other things to talk about, you know.
I just saw Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World. It was, for lack of the will and attentiveness to offer a more fruitful description, awesome. Probably the best movie ever. I laughed a lot. But after the movie ended, I think it finally hit me after all these months that I'm alone, and will probably stay that way for a very long time. I have friends, family, God. Did I become too dependent on having that famous fourth element of companionship?
There is a dream girl out there who I've never even dreamed of. I don't even know what to ask for. I don't think it's my place to specify. I won't know her when I see her. I can imagine a million ways to meet her and all I can envision is my green eyes looking at her. No face, no body, no voice, nothing but an empty space where a woman belongs. All I can tell is that I think she's the most special person in the world, and that I'd better get my life straightened out before I can even think about starting to believe that I have a pirate's chance against a ninja with her.
Until then... I'll just have to distract myself from the emptiness, and try to stay out of my own spotlight. Whenever any attention is drawn to me, either because of my friends patting me on the back or because I just don't have anything else to think about, I feel it.
Which reminds me, I've been having these weird dreams lately. Usually my dreams are meaningless and forgettable before I even slip out of bed. This has frustrated me before; but now, I'm worried. I unwillingly imagine myself in random (normal for dreaming) situations, but I don't seem to be able to forget them. They've been so vivid lately that I seem unable to realize that if I'm able to float, it must be a dream. The feelings I feel are real. The strange mix of fear and amiability of hanging out with Frank, the over-experienced zombie; the devastation and embarrassment of not having a lesson prepared when I'm a schoolteacher; the desperation of not having the whippersnappers listen to me when I'm an old man, preaching to all in the room of the importance of taking care of your body; ...what it is anybody would feel when they're fooling around with an Asian beauty in a queen sized bed. The feelings have since passed and I can now realize them and scoff at them, but why would I dream such things in the first place? I feel as though they don't belong in my head, somehow, that some outside influence has been putting them there. Zombies, teaching, being old, and spending quality time with a strange woman who GENUINELY thinks I'm just the cat's meow are really not things I dream about. I dream about being a student, standing still in crowded places, falling through beautiful and impossible landscapes, driving a car, exploring dream versions of real places, performing musicals, talking to people I know from school, and many amazing things that I simply cannot recall or describe in detail.
I should probably go to bed soon. The sun is coming up any minute.
I really wish that I could share these thoughts with someone, but they're private. The only reason they're here is because I needed to put them somewhere. Honestly, if I did talk to someone about this, I would feel bad for laying so much on them. These are my issues, not theirs. But if you somehow found this blog, either by coincidence or because I chose to show it to you for some reason, feel free to cheer me on as I deftly dance around the giant hole in my existence that I purposefully leave unfilled.
