hammerdancer

 

It sounds like the name of a song, doesn’t it? Maybe someday it will be.
 

Anyway:

Festivals are wondrous things, and one of their more magical functions is similar to that of a Petri-dish, except that instead of growing bacteria very quickly, they grow relationships (although the rate of growth is similar to that of the more expansive bacteria). Faerieworlds seems to be establishing a pattern of bringing beautiful women (who seem to be attracted to me for some reason) to my attention or vise versa.

When she left, I thought I would dwell on her absence and be saddened. Instead, I find myself wistfully remembering all of the time we spent together, and the things she does that make me smile. Not all the time, of course. Surprisingly, I am a semi-functional person still, if occasionally taken by sudden vacant stares and foolish smiles.

I miss her, but it’s a positive kind of longing—like a tree that continues to grow when the gardener is away.

She gave me a cotton pad filled with the stuff she puts in her hair. It sits on my beside table, and the smell in the wee hours of the morning makes me think that I can just roll over and touch her. In a way, I can. Every time I think of her; every time I invoke a pleasant memory, I feed that tree that I mentioned earlier.

I miss sleeping in company though. I can live without sex for a week (new toy though it is), but my bed is suddenly very, very lonely. Teddy bears just don’t seem to cut it anymore. I’m not going to like the lack of affection either. I don’t know how I managed to survive without it before, but I don’t know if I can again.

I don’t know what to do with myself this week. I don’t really want to spend it puttering around and hitting things with sticks. I was thinking I’d learn to hoop, practice making monkey-fists, do a little light video gaming, hit stuff with sticks, and apparently write soppy LiveJournal entries. However, that’s basically the definition of “puttering around” for this week, so I’m open to suggestions.

True to the universal laws of the universe, the birthday gift I ordered for her arrived Monday. One day too late for her to take to Burning Man. Oh well.

I love her. I miss her. I can’t wait for my Corpse to come home to me.

All in all, I consider that I have enjoyed led experienced a life fairly devoid of the soul-wrenching drama that I understand is often either concurrent or synonymous with the teenage years.

About a week ago however, I found myself beginning to write an exchange between myself and the forces of forced maturity (at least in the biological sense). The dialogue developed into a rather complex discussion, which I have been adding to most nights. Obviously, it is quite lengthy, so I will not post the entire thing here. What I will post will likely end up too long for an uncut entry. This means that most who read this post will skip over the cut entry, which is understandable considering the topic may not be of interest to many and it will take some time to read. This in turn gives me some freedom in the writing, as it is easier to speak of an uncomfortable subject to a small audience (one that is made smaller by both my ridiculously verbose introduction and the length of the article that follows). ( It follows here.Collapse )( It follows here.Collapse )For those who want to know the basic gist of the episode without reading all that stuff, it can basically be boiled down to this:
HORMONES say "Yes!"
JAMIE say "Wait, what?"

Tune in soon for Jamie's dissertation on the nature of Pity, and why it sucks.

OK, now that it's getting too dark to sand, I can spend as long as I like writing and revising and rewriting and re-revising and washing and rinsing and repeating. Unless I fall asleep.

Yes, my memories of Redmond High School are truly that gripping. Especially for those readers who do not have to live my boredom, and can simply skip the large part that such would play in an accurate rendition of my latest educational capstone (or headstone, if you're feeling gloomy).

In fact, since I don't particularly want to revisit those particular segments of time that I spent staring out a classroom window onto sunny, fresh-mown grass more than I already have, I will simply move on to a topic that is both near to my heart and of at least a modicum of interest to any readers determined enough to get this far: Me. Or rather, a look back at the me that came to RHS and the me that has just left it.

When I first arrived at RHS as a Sophomore, I was running a D&D game for 9 people, all of which were older than me (ranging from 18-45 years). I had an encyclopedic memory too... for the Player's Handbook and the Dungeon Master's Guide. I wielded an authority backed by iron self-confidence and a hefty charge of charisma amongst my friends. When among other company, I tended towards reservation. I avoided school dances and house concerts of my favorite musicians (and yours too) like the plague, spending the time in my room writing campaign material instead. As I recall, It was a feeling similar to that of lying in bed and listening to the rain on the roof. Comfort and Security.

I'm losing the original thread I'd intended. Oh well. I'd better just list the memories as they come before both of us fall asleep.
 

• I remember how I ranted about the stupidity of the IEP system, and how often I abused the hell out of it.
• I remember how my anatomy/physiology teacher, Mr. Currie, used to lose himself while he was lecturing and revert to his default lecture about how drugs affect the brain. He came off as either an airhead or a stoner (there were rumors. There always are).
• I remember how my best friend and I were forced to grow apart as a result of the cliques. He went to the computer geeks, I hung out with the gamer geeks. I remember regretting that I did not make more of an effort to maintain it.
• I remember how easy it was to convince myself that the homework was not urgent, necessary, or worth doing. I remember how easily I could distract myself.
• I remember how desperately I wanted to be more outgoing, more engaging. I remember how desperately I avoided any opportunity to begin becoming so.
• I remember getting my laptop. My wonderful, dependable laptop. I remember applying the dragon artwork to it shortly thereafter, which made my laptop the most commented-upon thing about me for months (even now, it is second only to the comment "Dude! I saw you doing that spinny thing at the [insert location]! That was awesome!")
• I remember coming home every day for months and hammerdancing from 2:30 to 6.
• I remember the satisfaction I discovered could be found in a page of finished math homework.
• I remember how the path home used to run rivers in the rain.
• I remember how, when the rain was coming down and I had no jacket, I would focus on keeping my eyebrows unscrunched. How much easier it was to enjoy the simple walk home in the rain when not resisting and resenting it.
• I remember how, when I just beginning, I brought poi to school and spun at lunch. I remember being lightly mocked by a couple of jocks. Granted, to them I was just a guy twirling hot-pink-and-black striped stockings in rather repetitive motions.
• I remember how Mr. Rowley let me spin first poi and then staff (after I made a collapsible PVC staff that would fit in my backpack) in his classroom during lunch every day. I remember when the assistant principal came in one day and told me I should spin in the celebrate the arts assembly.
• I remember passing beautiful women in the halls every day and feeling absolutely powerless.
• I remember the things I found interesting, and I remember how much I tuned out.
• I remember the faults I discovered in myself, and I remember the ways I discovered to overcome a few.
• I remember how easily words came to me when I didn't need them.
• I remember the day Obama was sworn into office. We went from class to class, but nobody was teaching.
• I remember the freeform debates of philosophy, economy, politics, the environment, and reality in general with my friends.
• I remembered monotany and mundanity every day. Every day, I remembered to forget.

And I remember the near-panicked scramble to complete everything I needed for graduation on time. I remember the vague sense of relief and the growing unsettlement as the graduation approached. I remember the infectious giddiness of my fellow graduates, which somehow overwhelmed my sudden loss of direction momentarily. I remember the feeling of unknown paths ahead, with unknown things at the end. After all, did Robert Frost not write:

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I stood and watched the world go by,
And so have stood there ever since."

He didn't of course. That was me (2/3 me anyway), and it occurred to me as I was writing this that it matters less what path I take then to where I'm going. Whatever path I select will have treasures along the way that are worth savoring, but a fork in the road has nothing for me but a choice.

I guess I can wait to make it 'til tomorrow.

By which I mean that I am not, as yet, dead.
This may not come as much of a surprise to some of you, but what with my extended LJ silence, I thought the fact might bear repeating.

I shall now give the highlights of my 31 week-long absence from these pages. Assume that all time not accounted for below was spent in sleeping, various outdoor activities (such as spinning poi/staff and hitting things with sticks), sitting in school thinking about my RPGs, playing video games, eating, and sitting in school doing schoolwork. In that order.

Sorry, but stealthcello wants me to come and sand the uprights on the back deck. There's a bit of work to be done before the next wedding. I'll have to post my memories of Redmond High School some other time.

...or maybe if I can lie to myself enough, I can make it true. I want to say something sarcastic or sigh loudly or something, but that's not how I work. I'll wait to be given for an invitation before I join them, that way I know they want me there (the downside of this is that when people don't give me an invitation, I wind up thinking that they don't want me along).

I'd like to take the (perhaps premature) opportunity to thank those who sacrifice a measure of their personal freedom for us.
I'd like to thank the many-times removed ancestors who made it possible for me to be where I am. Why they did it then is long forgotten, but once a year we are encouraged to find the time to think about the sacrifices they made and the risks they took, if not for us, then for the future.
Today my school held a Veteran's Day assembly, in which those among us who served were honored and those who are not were remembered. I noticed that many of my fellow students were restless when the guest speaker was giving us a much-abridged version of his life story. Many of them weren't even bothering to listen. I wonder how many of them think of tomorrow as a day off, nothing more.

So, being that I'm about a month too young to have a say in the next four years of my country's future, I guess I'll just express myself here.

Both candidates make me nervous. I mix with conservatives and moderates daily at school, and the teachers set out to exclude their opinions from the classroom (which is exactly the way it should be). And as I can't pretend to understand the economy issues, I am limited to responses based on the social issues.

Many of the objections I've heard from my classmates (who were fortunate to be born in time for this one) as to why they won't support Obama were pretty ludicrous ("I just think he's playing the race card too much"). Then again, quite a few who voted for Obama couldn't give a precise answer for their reasoning.

Well, I guess we'll see how things go. Like Sooj said: No slack for the winner.

- I -
inane and empty
boundless mundanity, I
bland and puposeless

an extended silence why now broken
two cents given those who do not ask them
why such coin proffered, why such words spoken
diamonds are carbon, coal is no gem

a voice rises in pleased declaration
has nothing to say, but none's in demand
enjoys the act of aimless creation
like a child with a box full of sand

wasteful is foolish, so foolish I seem
most words say little, but some speak in kind
so I'll write out my thoughts, and clear I'll dream
I'll walk my mindscape and share what I find

silence is useful but can go too long
my path is clouded, my vision is strong

childlike_fancy took me to see Phantom of the Opera at the Paramount on Thursday. It was an excellent performance, in my opinion (which is not a particularly strong one in this case, due to my lack of previous experience with the musical). Oddly enough, the thing that stuck most in the mind was the tiny pizza place where we ate dinner. The owner/cashier/chef of the place was very talkitive, at least he was to childlike_fancy, with whom he flirted with almost constantly.

I can really identify with the Phantom during most of the play, but I think that if Christine and Rowles had been trying to get away from me, I would have let them and gone back to obsessing about the theatre. Oh, and I would have avoided killing people (but I might give a few people a near miss with a sand bag with a mocking note pinned to it that would make it abundantly clear that, theoretically, I could have just popped their vertebral discs and given them a little more than a little visit to the chiropractor.

All in all, a good night.

Yay!

Great concert everybody! It was totally worth skipping last night's Werewolf game (I just wish that you guys would stop having so many indoor concerts. I can't spin and watch the indoor shows, and I can't help wanting to spin to music like that).
s00j  already posted about the concert, so I'll just say yay again.

Yay!