Fremen's Journal

I've let her go but that doesn't make the pain any less. I think of her less and less, but when I do it's still painful.

Knowing that I was barely a blip on her radar only makes it worse. I'm pretty sure the only time she saw me was when I made sure our paths crossed.

The thing that's wrong with love in the movies is that it seems like everyone gets who they're pining for. Sure there's always the other love interest, but really he/she wasn't really interested. Either they were interested for some selfish reason or they leave without much fuss and find their true soul mate by the movie's end (which leaves the two leads in a guilt free relationship without any collateral damage). Love in the movies is like a package that's tied up neatly with a bow.

That's not how it is in real life, well not usually. In real life there's disappointment and messiness. Everyone's got baggage and they're all looking for someone who'll make that baggage disappear all of a sudden.

My friend whose parents are Nigerian once talked to me about the difference in how our two cultures view marriage. She said that Americans have an unrealistic view of marriage. We want it to be perfect. To find that perfect person that will make us happy. She said that other cultures take a more practical view of marriage. It's a duty and a necessary part of growing up. It really doesn't have a whole lot how you emotionally feel about your spouse.

There's problems with both. I'm sure there's an ideal middle ground.

I don't even want to think about it for a while. If new feelings develop down the road I won't hesitate as much to take a chance and dive in, but for now I'm done with dwelling on this. I got stuff I got to do first anyways.

No

life has been gloomy as of late.

I've had two different people in the past week tell me I don't show any emotion or have any in my voice. One of those people is my roommate, who should know me better than anyone else at this school. My Dad has told me a couple of times that he never knows what I'm feeling or thinking. That bothers me. I want to be able to show people what I'm feeling in some other form than writing.

I wonder if I've always come across as some emotionless creature devoid of all feeling. I feel a lot on the inside. I get crushes, I get depressed(a lot), I feel happiness, elation, defeat, love, compassion... I'm just introverted. :(

I deleted my Facebook. I needed to cut ties with some people. Also I spend way too much time on it.

All the people I care about staying in contact with have my phone/email/IM.

I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel light :).

Oh and I found out that I got a B in physics. Which considering how much of the hw I didn't do isn't bad.

I didn't finish my final project for Programming. I worked all day and last night on it. I put in over 12 hours on it, but it was no use. I turned in a half-baked, half-finished product. The program was worth 75 points. Right now before the program I only have 257 out of 305. That tells you right there how big of a deal this project was.

Not only did I not finish, but I put off doing my calc hw and studying for my exams on Monday in order to finish. I don't know how I'm going to pull this off.

This could very well be my downfall. Considering how I absolutely loathe my major right now, this might not be such a bad thing.

I'm ready to move on. There's some people I'd like to start hanging out with more. I'm planning on volunteering next year at a hospice nearby campus. I'm hoping to change my major to comp sci with an English minor. I really miss my high school English classes and I would like to be able to delve into some real literature. I hated digital systems design this last semester and if that's what being a comp. engineer entails than I don't want a part of it. I'm going to stop going with the flow and make some decisions for my own future.


Some of the guys have been commenting on my tiny nipples. I never noticed before, but my nipples are really small. It really doesn't do anything except make me feel even more genetically deficient. I did a search on the internet for "small nipples" and nothing came up. So either it's really rare or no one cares. However, guys keep asking to see my nipples, which is kind of creepy and leads me to suspect that it's not as normal as I had hoped.

Do you ever go back and read conversations you had with people three years ago? Isn't it weird that you can do that? That little moments of our lives, of our feelings can be accessed at the click of a button? Is there something dangerous in that?

So much has changed and it feels like hardly any time has passed at all. There are people that I used to see everyday that I hardly ever talk to anymore. I know it's my own fault, but in a lot of ways it was inevitable that it would happen. Enjoy the people you have with you right now.

My new favorite blog is Lone Prairie. The writer for it is funny and insightful. You should go back and peruse (I mean that in the actual sense of the word) her stuff. Here's a post she wrote that I thought was very fitting.

http://www.loneprairie.net/lp_blog/2007/07/evaporation.html

"It's hard to hold onto water.

It's hard to hold onto friends. People don't stand still; we are always moving, and we are always moving out of each other's grasp."

I feel like I haven't been totally honest with people. I have a tendency to keep things to myself. This can make relationships with people a little one sided. I think I err on the side of caution almost to an extreme because of how I was emotionally hurt by my peers as a young kid and my family's constant moving up until 3rd grade. Changing schools and friends every year can sort of hurt a person's ability to create lasting friendships. I wasn't well liked in 3rd grade. I made some good friends in 4th grade, but stopped seeing them because I changed schools again to go to Kimberlin Academy.

Sometimes I have whole hypothetical conversations in my head with people. I need to have these conversations in real life, but often times the illusion satisfies my need to talk to that person and the actual conversation never occurs. I'm trying to move away from this.

I never considered that my passivity and silence can sometimes hurt people and lead them to believe things that I never intended. I want to take a more active role in my life and my relationships.

I've made a little bit of progress this year in being more open to people, but I still have a ways to go.

My mother is a strong woman. She generally has a joyful spirit in even the most difficult times. She takes pleasure in the simple things in life. She didn't grow up with much, so she's not as interested in things like clothes. The sight of a cardinal perched on a branch of one of the trees in the front yard will get her excited. She loves working with her hands.

For the most part she has appeared quite positive throughout her diagnosis and treatment. She still tries to help out around the house, helping with dinner and occasionally doing laundry. If she's not sleeping, then she's usually smiling. For the most part she's seemed to take everything in stride.

But I've seen her at other times. I've seen her break down and cry. I hugged her one night and told her I loved her. She didn't want to let me go. She started crying.

Tonight my Aunt Deedee came over. My mom was talking to her about her recent trip to MD Anderson in Houston. The doctor in charge of her chemotherapy didn't seem to be too pleased with the results from her second chemo round. However, the radiologist seemed somewhat pleased. It was a mixed response.

I thought she was ok with this news until she talked with my Aunt Deedee. She broke down. She was bawling.

I've felt so disconnected from this whole thing. Everything feels surreal; my mom's shaved head, the little container of meds for everyday of the week sitting on the kitchen counter, the doctor visits. I can't really grasp what's happening. I understand it somewhat on a mental level, but at the same time I don't. I can't grasp the gravity of the situation.

It's incomprehensible what she's going through; what it's like to be that close to death. To stare into his pitch black eyes and see your reflection in them. How do you deal with that? How do you go on?

I'm still going to write about my birthday last weekend. I've just been so busy this week. I still have like 3 weeks of calc homework to do before my test on friday. Everyone says I can't pull it off, but I remain confident in my procrastinating skills.

My birthday last Friday was great. I'm determined to write about it eventually :|

I wish I made more time to journal.

My dad wrote this, I thought it would be a good idea to post in my journal as a placeholder of what's going on right now.

"The day started off like a nightmare with those stupid dogs again.

Work was pretty good and Brenda Rachuig brought us the most amazing meal.

The Seniors were honored at the half time show of tonight's Owl's game. That was nice.

But Jan had some set backs. Her side starting hurting again and Dr. Reddy called her in for x-rays. Turns out that the fluid is building up around her lungs again. There is nothing that they can do about it.

Jan was pretty bummed about that because she was feeling so good before all of this hit.

Her hair is now falling out in earnest. She has a great attitude about it. It is already noticibly thin and it is coming out in clumps. It is everywhere. She is debating about just getting it over with. It is an easy decision to put off.

Her nausea is also back. She's pretty down -- understandably so -- but she is sleeping like a rock right now which I'm glad about.

I think the thing that is discouraging her is the thought that if she feels this bad now, what will it be like when they start the next round next week."

Probably the most intense week of my life. Stress level through the roof. Now it's a quiet friday night and I don't know what to do with myself.

I am sick of tests.

Sometimes I wonder if my whole life will be an existential crisis.

I feel like I'm stuck in the same loop.

School feels like a useless endeavor. It feels unimportant. This is a hard thing for me to accept. It means that my life probably won't go the way I think it should.

David keeps asking me questions I don't know the answer to. I wonder why our lives are so intertwined like this. He keeps popping up in my life. Just when I feel like things are settled, that I have things figured out, he pops in and stirs things up a bit. Questions about everything; life, love, faith.

It's a strange thing indeed. I shouldn't feel like I know him as well as I feel like I do.

I haven't posted in a long time. There's lots of stuff I need to get off my chest. Stuff about my mom's cancer and the messiness of life.

I plan to start to journal a lot more.

Just a thought for tonight.

I found out from my dad that some of the stuff I'm feeling right now might be inherited from him genetically.

I think maybe he might be talking about my depression. Somehow it makes me feel a little better knowing it's not because I'm a total failure at life.

*shrug*

Oh well...

I got a call from AMC, I have an interview on monday. I'm excited

I need some good ol' face to face, human to human conversation right now.

edit: sorry for the horrible writing. It was 3 in the morning and I was trying to get the whole thing down. I don't think i quite got everything anyways. :/ Oh well here it is. Anyone got any ideas if it means anything?

I had a strange dream last night and i just wanted to get it down on paper (metaphorically speaking).

It had mark sullivan, matt payte, a couple other people i knew from school, my family, my aunt gayla, uncle Dwayne, my cousin Nathan and his siblings, my aunt liesl, my uncle bill, my cousin anna, my cousin emily.

I can't remember the whole dream. I just remember having a strong sense of reality. I remember waking up and only then realizing it was a dream and not reality.

There were several episodes that stuck out in my head. Obviously they were longer than i can recall and had longer bouts of dialog.

I remember we were living inside a school. I think it was garland high. I'm not exactly sure why. Though it seemed that sometimes it was also my home in garland, the one with the big backyard (my current residence, i'm trying to document this for future reference).

During our stay at the school/house I went out for a bike ride. I think I was trying to follow someone. I think it was sam Johnson. Though I only now recall him being in the dream. I was trying to follow him. But ran into some halts. There was something wrong with my bike. So i'm going downa a steep hill. There are some people in front of me in the road. They are attending to their bikes. I slam on the brakes, stopping the car several feet away from them. My foot is resting on the brake peddle, struggling not to let go. I put it in park, yet the car continues to move forward. I slam on the brakes again. Something is wrong. They continue forward on thier bikes. One of them goes off a ramp and crashes on the side of the road. I continue on. My bike begins to go out of control. It is then that I realize that the wheel to my bike had been backwards. I jump off my bike as it goes crashing into the jungle.


The next episode dealt with a drug deal i was attempting to do behind my families back at the school with the help of mark and matt. I think we were selling marijuana or something. We ended up not trusting each other and having a shootout resevoir dogs style where we shot each other. This happened twice. After each shootout we would wake up to find each other alive. We would hug and tell each other we were still freinds.

I made several drug transactions through mark and matt.

Well mark finally gave me a brown paper package with drugs to drop off. I began to worry about the people that i was going to drop the drugs off to. I was afraid they might have a gun and shoot me. I hid a small hand gun and the drugs somewhere. Then i had to go about the task of telling mark that i couldn't do the drop off. Because I was afrfaid. I kept trying to get my friend away from my family, but they kept following us all the time. So i was trying to tell them in a secret sort of way by dropping indescrete hints.

I think we ended up having another shootout. And I finally sold the drugs. Then my friends left. THen i found out that aunt gayla had a lot of money stolen from her. I knew it was mark or matt. So I decided to confess that I was a drug dealer and give my money to her. As I was going to do so, I met a kid in the hallway (we're living in the school at this moment in time). I saw a kid standing in the hallway. He had dark hair and dark eyebrows. He was short and he was sad. He had a gun pointed to his head. I cried and told him not to do it. He took the gun away from his head and I jumped because I thought he was going to shoot me. He saw me jump and looked sad and then shot himself in the head. He crumpled to the ground. I screamed and my family came running in. That's when i woke up.

Is that a screwed up dream or what?