What Can You Do?

i stayed the night at my bro's. and while i wait for him to wake up, i'm taking the time to think back. this probably isn't good for me.
getting anonymous comments from my friends doesn't help either.
life really is a weird thing. i mean, you pray for something -- all you do for two years is pray -- and you finally get it, and then you find a way to screw it up. then you pray some more for it to last...but this time, prayer doesn't work. it's very discouraging.
but hey, what can you do? that's life.
i'm gonna go back to sleep now. i only got five hours.

"While We Wait" by Jack Johnson

"it feels right
it feels wrong
feels like when you have it
then it's gone"

this song makes me wonder about loss. more like it makes me remember in a thoughtful way. i don't know. it's just that when i listen to this song, i'm taken back to the poetry section of barnes and noble on that day, and for some reason i feel detached. i'm looking at it like a sympathetic outsider: feeling the pain, not wanting to, and all at once unable to take it in -- despite the fact that i was there for it all.
i was there for every damned second of it. and now i'm realizing that, you know what? the biggest mistake you can make in a relationship is getting involved in the first place.
this whole ordeal has made a bitter man out of me.

Ready, Set...

i'm packing for chicago. at around 1, i'm due to see adrian in the park for some chess and coffee, and then my flight is at five. so i've got to get everything done ahead of time today.
eleven hours left until i land on my home turf!

jack johnson currently holds the title of favorite artist. i'm listening to "sleep through the static" right now.

Just. Plain. Amazing.

http://hypem.com/track/86636

i'm listening to the strings mix of "hide and seek" by imogen heap right now. i don't know if words can describe it. and my friend johnny is literally in love with this girl's voice. i can't imagine if he heard the strings mix. he might faint.
i am convinced that this song is a high.
melissa (my sister of non-relation) introduced me to this song. i remember that day. i remember every time we listened to it together. like that morning last winter when the sun was painting the snow in the park golden, and we just listened to it to quiet down the cars and the conversation so we could just chill and have something meaningful.
i miss melissa. i wish i could run into her right now and just go outside and enjoy the weather and catch up and be nostalgic. but she switched schools. so i've got to talk to her through martin, which is a pain to do.

i'm leaving for chicago in two days. i've been counting down the hours. i really can't wait to be there. if i could be right now, i would.
i want to play chess with my dad and my bro. i'm dying for that. it's been way too long. sure, i've got chess club tomorrow, but it's not the same.

Returning to "A Feeling Like Home"

Chris and Danny were back in town for the weekend—“I’m getting sick of college,” Chris had told Jon on the phone—and we were sure as hell going to make the best of it. We were throwing a party.
Megan was in charge of cleaning Jon’s basement, Jon was getting drinks courtesy of the River Styx, and I was supposed to be helping Megan, but we pretty much just kept each other company and cozied up on the couch since Jon’s basement was clean already. So basically, it was just Jon getting drinks while me and Megan waited for him to get back.
We had about an hour until Jon would arrive with Chris, Danny, and alcohol, so we just lay down and relaxed.
“I’m kind of uncomfortable with Danny being back,” Megan admitted.
I shrugged against the leather of the sofa. “Why be? I hear he’s with some new girl, Sara, now.”
“I know; Jon told me too. It’s just that…” she hesitated. “I feel bad for being the reason you two fought.”
“You mean for being the reason Danny just beat the crap out of me.”
“Yeah.” From the look in her eyes, I figured that what I said had only made it worse.
I kissed her. “That’s in the past,” I said. “Everybody involved has moved on.”
“But I don’t know about Danny.”
That was it. I really didn’t want to—it was between me and Danny—but I had to tell her. “Just trust me on this; he’s over it. He’s done some growing up. Before he left, he told me to make sure I was good to you. And it was the way he said it. I mean, you saw the look on his face when we were all saying goodbye. Just trust me.”
“Okay.” She kissed me and smiled. I smiled back and held her closer.

Five minutes to go, and we were both sleeping. Thank God that Megan’s phone rang when it did.
After assuring Jon, who was on his way, that everything was ready, we both scrambled to get everything ready. Megan raced around with the vacuum while I moved everything on the floor out of the way. Within five minutes, we did a pretty good job, and stowed the vacuum. We sat on the couch, as far away from each other as possible, with our hands folded, like misbehaving schoolchildren pulling their act together just as the teacher walks in. It reminded me of when I was in elementary school. I even held my back straight for once. It was just one of those moments of priceless absurdity. I was grinning from ear to ear.
That was when Jon walked in with Chris and Danny at his back and the party began.
We stood up and said “hey” and “good to see you”. Megan hugged Chris and Danny; I shook their hands and pulled them in close for a quick pat on the back. Danny didn’t look much different, but Chris had a beard and had traded in his leather for a pea coat like mine and Jon’s. I pointed this out and he shrugged. “College is ruining my rebellious nature,” he explained.
Then Jon waved the paper bags from the River Styx, to kick off the festivities, and Megan went and got some glasses and ice from the cabinet upstairs. The rest of us sat down, and Chris and Danny relayed stories of California and all the strange people there.
We were in stitches, I swear. It was that funny.
Me and Megan passed a glass of iced Disaronno back and forth as this went on, and Jon had lined up four shots of Jack Daniel’s on the footrest, two apiece for Danny and Chris. For himself, he poured a whole glass of the stuff.
“For some reason,” he slurred later on, “I’ve always had a higher tolerance for alcohol than Danny or Chris.”
Yeah right. That one got us all laughing.

We were about an hour into partying and all of us were pretty loosened up when Jon’s phone rang.
He laughed a little drunken laugh as he put it to his ear. “’Ello?” He smiled and nodded, but after about five seconds his face went slack and his eyes widened.
I figured his parents were on the way or something, and quietly stored the bottles of alcohol under the couch.
Another fifteen seconds of listening to someone talk on the other line and Jon nodded. “Alright. I’ll be there. Bye.” He hung up and looked at me. “I’ve got to go.”
“What happened?”
Jon shook his head. “Some idiot fell asleep with a cigarette in my cousin’s apartment building. Al was pulled out dead about five minutes ago.”

"Victoria" by John Mayer

john mayer now holds the title of favorite artist. i got his itunes essentials collection, and the one song that i never had by him -- "victoria" -- now has my complete attention. That, and his funky rendition of "i got a woman" from the TRY! album.
but right now, it's the story of this girl victoria that's the most gripping.

hey, victoria came by
victoria came by tonight
hey, victoria came by
she says to say goodbye

it's the truest thing, really. artists take what they experience and they make it art. it's just what we do. whether it be the world around us as we experience it, a woman's touch (or lack thereof), or life in general. it only makes sense that for an artist to grieve, he must express the pain and loss in an artistic fashion.
part of what irritates me about the misconceptions and false pretenses surrounding the word "emo", while we're on the artist's grieving process: "emo" does not mean someone who sits at home cutting themselves, or someone characterized by tight jeans and black eyeliner. "emo" does not qualify someone as a pathetic, complaining wuss.
emo is more profound than all the shallow stereotypes and misconceptions. emo is when an artist pours out their heart and soul into a work. it could be a song, a poem, a painting, a book...anything in which emotion and feeling becomes manifest. damien rice is emo. dashboard confessional is emo. even john mayer can be emo at times; listen to "i'm gonna find another you" or "comfortable".
anything that can register as poignant is emo. hanging out with friends, laughing it up and feeling nostalgic can be emo, for pete's sake.
so why does everybody associate "emo" with negativity, depression and despondency?
it eludes me.

Another Scene from "A Feeling Like Home" (which will probably be edited out anyway)

I had always missed those Where's Waldo? books. I could spend hours hunting for the guy. It made me wonder: how can some dude in striped clothes, wearing a hat and carrying a cane, be so hard to find?

So, to make things easier for everyone else, I went out and got the clothes and the cane so I could be Waldo for Halloween.

I was waiting on Megan's bed, because she had snuck into the bathroom with a load of makeup and some clothes and I had no idea what she was going to come out as.

Besides, I just liked Megan's bed. First of all, it was so comfortable I could swear I'd just died and gone to heaven. Second, it gave a great view of her room: the twisted mural on her ceiling, full of different scenes flowing into one another; the splash of black paint on her wall that she altered so that it looked like some sort of flaming tiger; her desk, crammed with scribbled notes from school and random sketches; and her backpack in the corner, with sketchbooks spilling out. Her room was an instant high, a supernova of sensory overload. It's why none of us did drugs. We just came over to Megan's house and sat in her room for a bit.

Then she came out, and at first I thought she was someone from an old movie: she had on white gloves, a black-and-white striped shirt, black pants, black shoes, and her face was painted all white. Then I spotted the beret, and the black eyeliner making her eyes stand out.

She shrugged and smiled.

"What?" I laughed.

She zipped her lips.

"A mime?"

Then she shrieked and jumped on me. "He got it! He got it! Waldo got it!" After we both got our laughs out, she cleared her throat and stepped back. "I've got to get into character," she explained.

I just stood up and kissed her. I didn't know what else to do or say. It was that cute.