the path

The most predictable human defense is denial. When you fall down and scrape your elbow or knee, the first thing you want to prove is that everything is completely in order. You stand up, take a few steps and as the shock wears off you realize that you’re hurting. In my case the same holds true for less tangible events such as feeling alone or being overwelmed. The obvious difference is how I mask what I’m feeling in both situations. If I have inner pain it’s much each easier to ignore or to be incognizant of the source, therefore there is no initial shock to wear off. As a result, I don’t necessarily feel what I should feel in order to heal.

If a friendship is ending or a relationship is breaking down, most everyone rushes to find a solution and avoids dealing with what is there. I don’t know if its avoiding anxiety, protecting the ego, or simply maintaining repression, but I believe the majority of people are generally afraid of feeling anything. Whether it be physical or emotional, in pain or in love, it’s unnatural to go through life being unresponsive to these basic human emotions.

Being able to feel is one thing that sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. Even though it’s unhealthy to be sad or lonely all the time, be able to embrace the rare times that you are because it’ll make the otherwise unimportant moments stand out.

I don’t understand the reasoning behind the proverbial hint, when it comes to getting it or taking one. The psychology behind it… I don’t understand that either. Isn’t it easier to be direct, and don’t people rather have others be direct with them? Perhaps it’s a feeling of superiority over another person that people need because for once they don’t want to be around someone who wants to be around them. We all do it, and my question is why. I’ll try as best I can to evaluate both perspectives of the hinter and the hintee.

The hinter is in a position of power. That must be what is so appealing, or is it the fact that the hinter is the better person by exuding niceness in every way possible. This includes not wanting to have you around, but not having the courage to tell you what is up. Someone is not being “too nice” to say anything. In fact the hinter is completely void of compassion in that respect. I’m sure this type of person is never the idiot. All sarcasm aside, I can see how this behavior propagates because it is easier to not tell someone they’re not wanted than it is to tell someone they’re not welcome. It shows a lack of respect and an inability to communicate effectively.

Now that leaves us with the hintee. Obviously something is wrong with this clown because his or her desire is meaningless and is more often than not a bother or an inconvenience. Utterly pathetic, but seemingly oblivious. The sweet irony of the sitaution prevents this character from being all-knowing. Besides, who honestly believes that someone would want to give them a hint? People always speak their minds… don’t they?

I’m not bitter about anything that happened, and I could understand how it would seem as though I am indeed upset. There’s no specific inspiration for why I’m writing this other than I’m simply tired of the way people treat each other. It’s petty and sad. In the past I know I’ve been guilty of being the hinter, but I’ve also been on receiving side. Either position is unpleasant, but tell me straight up — I’ll respect you more. I’m sure you’d want the same.

Last night as I was driving home from Silver Q, I had the windows down and the outside temperature was a cool 73 degrees. I rarely drive with the windows down, but almost always on Tuesday nights after pool because I hate the way my clothes stink of cigarette smoke. It reminded me on a time when I was very young — probably only about 4 or 5 — and was in the backseat of my dad’s car. We were driving down the dirt road past Wycliffe and Palm Beach Pointe (unfortunately, they have a gate there now) well before there was ever an elementary and a middle school around. I was tired and falling asleep in the backseat but liked the feeling of having the cold air hit my face and be breathed into my lungs. It smelled fresh, clean, and new… very similar to the way it was last night. As I drove home the temperature of the air seemed to soothe my skin and I got to thinking how I didn’t want that feeling to end. So I kept driving and my mind wandered to all the late night driving I’ve done in the past, or how it feels to look up at the sky when there aren’t any lights around and imagine the stars as pin pricks in a blanket of felt positioned no more than one hundred feet above. It looks just as nice during the day, I guess, but there’s a mystery in the darkness in that there’s no images to make out of the clouds because the stars remain unchanged. There’s no give with some things, I realized, and then there are some things you can make out to be whatever you want. In the end my clothes and skin were just as unclean as when I started, but at least I was able to clear my head and pretend that I was the child in the back of my dad’s old car.

It’s a fact that ever since I came to school in Gainesville I’ve hated the first kiss. Now I don’t know why I do, because I never had a problem with it in the past. I’m fairly forward about everything else so why I can’t bring myself to kiss someone for the first time remains a mystery to me. The only thing I don’t like is the uncertainty of what comes next, provided there is something next. Once I get past my own insecurities and inhibitions I’m fine. Usually, though, since the thought of kissing someone new lingers in my mind, by the time I’m ready I’ve already built it up to be this big deal. It never is — I realize this — but it’s there and is still a hangup.

It’s hard to count (not because there have been too many) how many girls I’ve dated in college because most of them were just a friendly thing and then there was a kiss involved. I’ve been officially single for much of the college career, but that doesn’t count the fling type relationships I’ve had. They usually don’t last very long because for whatever reason I strive to be emotionally void and as distant as I possibly can be. It all comes down to me not letting myself go or not allowing myself to try something new.

If I were to estimate I’d say there were three noteworthy people in the past four years with whom I’ve wanted to be with at one time or another. With each there was a first kiss, and even a second… each one being meaningful. No matter what, though, there will always be that I enjoyed most or is the most memorable. I’m not sure if I’ve explained the whole situation to anyone before, and certainly not to the other person in question. Not because I’m ashamed but because it’s something that is really mine and isn’t meant for anybody else. I can’t explain details, really but I can shed some light onto my already vague-sounding post; the moment it happened is completely clear like it happened three hours ago. Sometime in the afternoon she and I were talking and we started kissing and it felt brand new. So much so that it everything was slow, it seemed, and I couldn’t think about anything other than her lips touching mine. The moment probably didn’t last more than a few seconds but there was enough emotion behind it to make me remember it. It’s sad that the kiss gets ignored and in most times is a means to an end. Especially as I grow older it seems to be that way. It’s as fun now as it was when I was in high school, and I hope it doesn’t stop being fun… at least until I’m about 90 and not able to kiss anymore.

Why is it that we as humans always have the need to escape from everything?

It isn’t why we escape that concerns me, I think it’s more of how. I would estimate around 80% of the movies or TV shows I watch are complete garbage. Of the remaining 20% that I find to be entertaining, I would say only 25% (or 1/20) make me think and probably 10% (1/50) have a profound effect on the way I look at life. How come the remaining 19 (or 49, for that matter) have no positive influence on me at all? I do realize that saying something lacks a ‘positive influence’ on me is a subjective statement so I’ll attempt to be more specific with a couple of examples.

By a positive influence I mean that the content doesn’t project an aura of uselessness to me. With that argument, one would be safe to assume that I don’t care how it affects anyone else. As long as I get something useful then I’m happy. One of my favorite films is Good Will Hunting. I remember the first time I saw it (and where I was sitting and what time of day), and at the end I was full of hope that I too could be that intelligent. Obviously the unrealistic nature of the movie sticks in my head but since then, each time I see it or parts of it, or even right now as I write this, that uplifting sentiment is perpetuated and for a few seconds it doesn’t matter what else is on my mind because I’m reminded of the hope that I achieved with that escape.

It’s a little known fact that I discovered Dawson’s Creek about six years after the show first aired. In any event, I’m glad I did because it has allowed me to be nostalgic and to remember a little about what it was like to be in high school, to really like the person I’m closest to and not be able to tell them, or to feel like my problems were the only ones. Above all else, I like the notion that there are people who look at the world without a veil of cynicism and only see the purity and wholesomeness of life. That’s something I can relate to because it’s something I want.

I’m certainly not above escapism but the phenomena makes me think. Of course fantasy is a necessity of life because otherwise it wouldn’t be possible to feel the emotions of hope or excitement. Looking forward to something that hasn’t yet been realized (and may never be) would be impossible. Perhaps my sense of reality has been deluded but without the symbiotic relationship between escapism and realism, I think my life wouldn’t be worth it.

Usually by this time, I’m already asleep and not thinking about what I am wanting right now. Being single, as I am, has many great benefits but one main downfall: loneliness. The way I feel about it isn’t an all consuming sentiment, but mostly it makes me think why. Why is it that I’m still awake? Why isn’t someone taking my attention instead of no one leaving my mind to wander elsewhere? Why is it that I am the way that I am?

Once in a while I’ll think about a particular relationship from high school (when on more than one occasion I gladly ruined the whole thing just as it could’ve progressed into something more meaningful). I’m not trying to fill the space with anyone — but it would be nice to lie down next to someone who’s softer and cooler to the touch than me, yet warmer than the extra pillow.

I guess all I’m really saying is I’d be okay if something just fell into place. Ironically when it does come around, I usually shy away from it pretty quickly.

Why does starting something new always have to be painful? Not necessarily painful emotionally, but physically like when starting a new exercise regimen. For me, beginning anything again or for the first time is torture. Why can’t I have already started before I’ve started?

For example, every few months I try to get my body back in shape because I don’t like feeling as thought I’m not athletic. The only thing that ever stops my initial drive is that I forget how much my muscles hurt right after I start. Usually, I have a problem with weaning myself back onto a schedule and I jump right in to what would be considered normal instead of beginning. Naturally the next day is lactic acid hell and I am reminded that I shouldn’t be doing this so by the time my muscles don’t hurt anymore I’ve already forgotten that I was supposed to be exercising on a regular basis. A few months down the road I’ll think about how in shape I would’ve been had I continued last time and so I begin the destined to fail cycle all over again. This time it’s going to change, I can feel it. No, really, I can… in my legs.

Ever since I was small, I’ve always liked the way my eyes felt after I cried. I didn’t cry on purpose because of that and I think every time that I’ve had that realization it has always been an afterthought. What I like is the smoothness and even the redness because it seems to go with my natural color. When I close my eyelids and move my eyes around it feels like everything else goes away for that brief instant. It’s also that when I look closely into the mirror I can see in my eyes that I’m not as strong about everything as I’d like to be but that I’m not always afraid of being weak.

Amid the hurricane mess, I managed to write a few things down in between power outages. As for the outcome of the storm — my family, my friends, and my friends’ family are all safe.

For some reason, when I was younger I was afraid of moving around. Nowadays, it’s a little different seeing as how for the past four years I have lived in five different places. The only difference between then and now is then I worried about moving to a entirely new place instead of now where I move around in the same old place. My roommate Luigi has explained to me on several occasions that when he thinks about his past it is most easily remembered when thinking about where he was living at the time. Looking back at my time in Gainesville, I agree with him; it is easier to think about where I was instead of when I was.

Lexington Crossing, Phase Two, Apartment F204C - On August 18, 2000, my dad drove me the 110 miles from my mom’s temporary home on Brereton Avenue in Orlando to my new home at Lexington Crossing. We both stood in line for over an hour to get my key, and soon after I was the first of my roommates to get into the apartment. A fully-furnished roommate-matched apartment isn’t the best way to meet people, but the other people who lived there with me — Rishi Harjani and Michael Ihns — were well above average on the decency scale. In fact, I still feel bad about putting them through the craziness of mine and Kari’s incessant fighting. The adjustment to life away from home was quick, but I always preferred to spend my time with someone else instead of being alone. As a result, when I was by myself the place didn’t seem like my home. Instead, it was an extended stay hotel that happened to be the place where I was while waiting for the year to be over. I hated it freshman year.

Colonial Village, Apartment 2326 - My apartment sophomore year began one week before the start of school. The new year brought with it a desire to never permanently move back home. Contrary to the previous place, this apartment was completely empty. I did manage to acquire the majority of my furniture over the 11 months I was there, a girlfriend came into the picture, and my original roommate never made it to Gainesville. Thus, I lived alone. At first I didn’t realize how fantastic being on my own would be, but now I wouldn’t want to change anything about my living situation. I have many fond memories of apartment 2326, and one that makes me always smile is when I came home just after midnight on my birthday to a cake made just for me. Despite all the personal growth I underwent and the good times I had, by far the worst thing to happen that year was the passing of two friends from high school due to an auto accident on the southbound lanes of Florida’s Turnpike. I can still vividly remember getting the news on the Friday night just after scooping a spoonful of mashed potatoes at Ryan Wertepny’s place in Gatorwood. I wasn’t particularly close to either Robbie or Jessica, but it still affected me in a profound way and was my first real experience with how fragile life can be.

Oxford Manor, Apartment Y-120 - Things didn’t start too well at Oxford Manor. On the second to last Saturday of July, 2002, the same day I was supposed to move, U-Haul failed to secure me a moving truck despite giving me a “confirmed reservation.” Therefore I was stuck moving all my things with David Barnes’ pickup truck and if it wasn’t for him I don’t know how I would’ve switched houses. The problem with Y-120 didn’t involve my roommates; in fact I am glad to have lived with them and to have known them in that capacity. Come to think of it I still owe Randy $40 — I need to get in touch with him about that. It was a personal issue because no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get the place to feel like home. My core friends changed just like they did every other year. I do enjoy getting to know new people, but I then have a tendency to replace the old ones. It’s sad that I do that, but I guess it’s perfectly natural to move along and become close and drift apart from people. After January, everything about living there blurs together into a few different thoughts. I remember talking all night with Mandy and Keith, and having Mike Pellor visit from Indiana. As for school I don’t remember much other than taking 33 credits in two semesters and having the highest GPA I’ve had since beginning college. If I think about it enough I can recall lying in bed trying to fall asleep listening to the Cranberries. All the while my mind would wander but the ultimate thought would revolve around me being emotionally lonely. I remember breaking my phone in Kari’s car and losing my appetite to eat at Outback. I didn’t like how my life had changed, and I was frustrated about how I couldn’t do anything to alter the change. I had a mild nervous breakdown and towards the end of the year there was more than one serious lapse in judgment. Though I always kept a rational mind, I’m grateful Mike and Rachel could listen to me whenever I needed to let it out.

Hidden Lake, Apartment 145 - A week or so before leaving Oxford, I finally signed a lease with my good friend from high school Kathleen Caldwell. Out of the six other people I have ever lived with, she was the biggest character. I always found her stories funny and the situations she would get in were unbelievable. The thing about Kathleen is that she has a lot of qualities that I find attractive, but I hadn’t been attracted to her since high school. I applaud her for being able to put up with living with me because I know I can be a pain in the ass. My only regret about how things turned out is that Kathleen and I stopped making time for each other. That sounds lame, but after we started living together we stopped doing things as friends, mostly because we both took our friendship for granted. By thinking that we didn’t need to hang out because we lived together, it only made us never see each other any more than we did. Aside from all of that, there were a number of new happenings. I got in to all three graduate schools I applied to including Columbia and the University of Florida. I built a robot, shot a gun, ventured to Lake Wauberg, got a traffic ticket for riding my bike with headphones on, and started a number of new friendships. I got close to a new set of people, Erika and Louie, and got closer with an old friend from in between high school and college, Jenny Bonde.

Bellamay Grand, Apartment 912 - Here’s where I am now. It’s the biggest place I’ve ever lived in, and I’m really glad I’m living with Louie. In spite of how much I disliked him at one point, I have nothing against him anymore (even though he would say otherwise) except for the fact that he’s superior to me in many ways. It’s nice to have Billy back from Japan, because things aren’t as solid without him. Overall, only after the entire year will I be able to put down the highlights and fond memories. Until then, bring on the grilled cheese.

It’s scary when law enforcement in some places have started marking the roads with orange spray paint so when the road signs are missing emergency crews can find their way around — something that started to happen after Hurricane Andrew in 1992. I’m amazed at the number of people who don’t notice the severity of the storm, I guess partly because the last storm (Charley) was not nearly as bad as it could have been. I hope it doesn’t affect anyone more than it has to, and that everyone who needed to prepare has done so and had the chance to get away from the coasts. I also hope my mom gets freed from the Riviera Beach VA hospital and back home to the house and that my dad has finally finished putting up the boards over the windows. With all three of us in different locations, I want nothing more than for everyone to be safe. In the meantime I wanted to give a brief timeline on how much focus from our daily routine can be transferred to nature in the matter of only a few days:

11:00pm on Tuesday, August 24, 2004 — Tropical depression number six develops in the eastern Atlantic Ocean with maximum sustained winds of 30 miles per hour. Just ten days prior the state was enduring Hurricane Charley. Of course, there’s no need to bat an eye at this news.

5:00pm on Wednesday, August 25, 2004 — Not only the third day of school, but also the day when tropical depression becomes Tropical Storm Frances with winds slightly over 40 miles per hour. Having lived in Florida basically my whole life, this is nothing new either.

5:00pm on Thursday, August 26, 2004 — In a mere 42 hours the storm strengthens into the fourth hurricane of the season. While still no threat to land, Frances is getting stronger and is soon to become a category three. I believe this was the first indication that there might be something to worry about.

11:00am on Sunday, August 29, 2004 — Keeping the westerly movement but there is no immediate threat to land (over 500 miles east of the Northern Leeward Islands).

11:00am on Tuesday, August 31, 2004 — The now category four hurricane continues to move towards the west northwest on path for the US. This is about the time that I started keeping track on its movement and starting to get my plan of action in order.

All afternoon on Wednesday, September 01, 2004 — Due to the predicted path I decide to get some basic supplies, and come later in the evening I buy a large amount of water. Hopefully I won’t need it, but if the power is going to be out I’m at the very least prepared for a few days. For whatever reason, I begin to get pretty worried about what the hurricane is going to do and how it will affect my life… I’m becoming obsessed.

6:45pm on Thursday, September 02, 2004 — 2.5 million people (that’s 15% of the population) all over the eastern seaboard (Volusia all the way down to Broward Counties) and a little of the northwest coast of Florida were told to flee because of the impending hurricane. On my way home from the school I couldn’t help but notice: where have all the birds gone? They obviously know what’s going down more than I do.