My body is feeling it. I've started working out again, both in P.E. and after school. It's been a while. After my vertical jump stuff earlier yesterday I felt great, took a run in fact, it was good. But this morning when I woke up... I felt as if someone had beaten the backs of my calves with baseball bats. I can barely walk at the moment, which means tomorrow I do squats and presses, as well as some bench. The nice thing about working out though... I actually feel the need for a ot of food now, instead of just eating it because I know it's necessary.
My goal is to be between 155-170lbs by the end of the school year. Putting off the heavy vegitarianism for a bit until I bulk up. I want to serve 120. I want to run a 5:00. I want my palm on the rim. I want my palm on the ceiling outside the band hall. Nick and I are debating buying some boxing gloves and helmets, we match perfectly arm length and height, it would be fun to get some good sparring in as well as some reflex stuff beside ping pong.
My other class at the highschool is CW, which is pretty easy so far. Three days in and all my Public Meetings are completed. Benner seems to like me, he told me he was impressed.
Food calls...
Night
-Jon
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Did I just say that...?
This post will be dedicated to my lack of the ability to arrange words properly in a sentence, or to arrange letters within a word, while speaking at a high spate of read.
Though there were countless ones before this...
Evan Winter:
Jan-26-2009
"Call of forty do"
Jonathan:
Jan-22-2009
"I can move it from here while it's reading!"
Jonathan:
July-27-2009
"What do you think I am, some sort of rind meader?
Though there were countless ones before this...
Evan Winter:
Jan-26-2009
"Call of forty do"
Jonathan:
Jan-22-2009
"I can move it from here while it's reading!"
Jonathan:
July-27-2009
"What do you think I am, some sort of rind meader?
Monday, January 19, 2009
My Button
Tonight I relived my wildest and most painful fear. My mind torn between reality, the here and now, and my past; a drenched bed, silky white and red splotched sheets, a faded gray wire with one single blue button on the end of it hanging from a pump attached to a small metal pole, this machine limits my ability to press the button, once per eight minutes, with a quiet beep to let me know when it's ready. A clear plastic tube emerges from the bottom of the machine, running the length of the pole and onto the bed, from the tube to the needle, from the needle through a vein in my wrist, and in this vein is my blood. This pole supports my IV, mounted on four wheels. The wheels imply mobility, but I have none.
I lie silently on my back, watching the clock turn past 2 am. There is no sleep for me. To pass the time I have a cup of prune juice: the only alternative is an enema, I am not partial to either choice.
I have another tube, it runs to a machine as well. I cannot roll to my right or left because of it. This one has no needle, but still enters my body. Between my ribs, directly below my left arm, a half inch tube enters my chest. It runs in a few inches and then up, all the way to the top of my lung. Or at least where my lung should be. The collapsed lung leaves all my organs exposed to my chest wall, each openly available to be touched by the tube. The pain is excruciating, but after the first five days with this gardenhose attached to a vacuum I have adapted. Certain positions are more comfortable than others, and once I find a good one... I stay there.
The tube enters through an inch long slit in my skin that had very little bandaging on it, and the tube can move. Not much though, but it moves nonetheless, and this movement is where the problems begin. This movement is the soul purpose of the button which I all to often let leave my hand.
It starts with a cough, a laugh, anything where my breathing is short or sporadic. Worst of all is hiccups, they do no cease after one or two, I cannot stifle them like laughter. I drink from my plastic cup, prune juice is nasty, and I swallow air. I recline into the bed and am hit by the sudden realization of what I've just done. I reach for my button, hanging at my side, but I am too late. In the next quarter of a second the first hiccup reaches my mouth and I gasp for air, my lungs fill, the tube shifts, poking at my vital organs. My body rejects the tube and fights to purge me of its presence. Every muscle in my body tightens and releases at a pace beyond my comprehension and my entire body trembles. I lose control. My body surrenders to it's own primal fear, and it's primary means of ending the torture only fuels the pain, and the problem. Every movement is just another reason for me to convulse. It goes on indefinetly, there is no escape but through my button, and reaching it is beyond any strength and focus my mind could gather.
In the bed beside me lies my one hope. Hands that don't belong to my body, that vigorously writhes on the bed. One quietly reaches up grabs the end of the wire, pressing the button, releasing me. The pain slowly subsides, and my body calms. I collapse into my pillow; my mind is fogged, through the fog I don't feel the pain anymore. I struggle for conciousness, but it slips from my grasp. Then at last, sleep.
“In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge”
-Jon
I lie silently on my back, watching the clock turn past 2 am. There is no sleep for me. To pass the time I have a cup of prune juice: the only alternative is an enema, I am not partial to either choice.
I have another tube, it runs to a machine as well. I cannot roll to my right or left because of it. This one has no needle, but still enters my body. Between my ribs, directly below my left arm, a half inch tube enters my chest. It runs in a few inches and then up, all the way to the top of my lung. Or at least where my lung should be. The collapsed lung leaves all my organs exposed to my chest wall, each openly available to be touched by the tube. The pain is excruciating, but after the first five days with this gardenhose attached to a vacuum I have adapted. Certain positions are more comfortable than others, and once I find a good one... I stay there.
The tube enters through an inch long slit in my skin that had very little bandaging on it, and the tube can move. Not much though, but it moves nonetheless, and this movement is where the problems begin. This movement is the soul purpose of the button which I all to often let leave my hand.
It starts with a cough, a laugh, anything where my breathing is short or sporadic. Worst of all is hiccups, they do no cease after one or two, I cannot stifle them like laughter. I drink from my plastic cup, prune juice is nasty, and I swallow air. I recline into the bed and am hit by the sudden realization of what I've just done. I reach for my button, hanging at my side, but I am too late. In the next quarter of a second the first hiccup reaches my mouth and I gasp for air, my lungs fill, the tube shifts, poking at my vital organs. My body rejects the tube and fights to purge me of its presence. Every muscle in my body tightens and releases at a pace beyond my comprehension and my entire body trembles. I lose control. My body surrenders to it's own primal fear, and it's primary means of ending the torture only fuels the pain, and the problem. Every movement is just another reason for me to convulse. It goes on indefinetly, there is no escape but through my button, and reaching it is beyond any strength and focus my mind could gather.
In the bed beside me lies my one hope. Hands that don't belong to my body, that vigorously writhes on the bed. One quietly reaches up grabs the end of the wire, pressing the button, releasing me. The pain slowly subsides, and my body calms. I collapse into my pillow; my mind is fogged, through the fog I don't feel the pain anymore. I struggle for conciousness, but it slips from my grasp. Then at last, sleep.
“In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge”
-Jon
Friday, January 2, 2009
One Nights Adventures
I sat sipping my tea. Earl Gray. My parents were having a few people over in a few hours, and as much as I love my parents, their friends I cannot tolerate. My original plan, to go to bed at ten, seemed too monotonous for a night such as this one. Tonight I needed something different, something new, an adventure... like Jurrasic Park! Which I have never seen.
And what better place to find an adventure than with Sean and Jon. A few text messages to both of them and they were outside my house, waiting for me. The fools came inside and tried to convince me that I would need more clothing than I had originally anticipated. Sledding is tonight's theme, they said. Silly fools, I will not bend to their will, I will not sled tonight.
We rode on for what seemed like a short version of eternity towards a destination unknown to me. The dank smell of rotting Tacobell hovered in the hot air of the vehicle, the best purple Jeep known to humanity, since the dawn of time. The travel up the treacherous roads of the mountain was an easy task for the Jeep and its expert driver. At last... our destination...
A wave of uneasiness swept over me as I was led towards the door. I had been briefed on what I could and could not say, as well as how to behave. I walked inside. Strangers surround me in an overwhelming quantity. Introductions are given and the fun begins. Wait... Christians...? fun? UNPOSSIBLE! Oh, by the way, I haven't seen Jurassic Park.
I spend the first half hour of our arrival watching my two slow-to-learn-and-play-card-games friends get beat at "Nerds" which I fail to pronounce endlessly. I "encourage" them with some "kind" words. At last the Secede from play and in order to spite me and my "encouragement" they decide to go sledding. I am left with a choice. Stay inside with the kids and play boring games... or go outside and freeze while watching them sled. I chose the latter. Did I tell you I haven't seen Jurassic Park?
We went outside, up to the hill, lit by tiki torches. The fools were already sledding when I arrived. My two fools though, stayed with me briefly before going off on a suicidal fight against gravity which would end in them being covered with snow. The fire at the bottom was cozy and warm so I hung out there for a while. Screams of pain and fear tore through the night as the riders plummeted down the icy slopes. After an immeasurable about of time we went back inside.
I challenged Jon to a game of Battleships.
I suck at Battleships.
I haven't ever seen Jurassic Park.
Jon is King of Battleships.
After battleships I flipped through a Book of Ripley's Believe It or Not, I want thirty minutes of my life back. Then it was back outside to the sled hill for more recklessness on every ones part, but mine. But they weren't near as reckless as when the boy tried to climb the electric fence in Jurassic Park, which I have never seen. The boys decided to sled down the road and I volunteered to pick them up at the bottom in the Jeep. Shortly after they left I decided to drive down and I realized the keys were nowhere to be found! Apparently Jon had them still, at the bottom of the hill.
Back inside for pictionary!
Then worship, which blew right through new years, thankfully we escaped in the middle. I spent my new years in a kitchen, in a house I had never been in before, with worship songs in the background, tightly hugging my two companions. And through all the noise, and all the distractions... to us... we were the only three that existed at that moment in time, we were alone, together.
After the songs ended we headed outside and started lighting fireworks. Sean burnt and imaginary hole in his jacket. He is the only one who can see it, kind of like how I am the only person to have not seen Jurassic Park. The fireworks ended and we gathered back into Jon's car for the ride home.
The car still smelled like Tacobell... and fireworks.
And what better place to find an adventure than with Sean and Jon. A few text messages to both of them and they were outside my house, waiting for me. The fools came inside and tried to convince me that I would need more clothing than I had originally anticipated. Sledding is tonight's theme, they said. Silly fools, I will not bend to their will, I will not sled tonight.
We rode on for what seemed like a short version of eternity towards a destination unknown to me. The dank smell of rotting Tacobell hovered in the hot air of the vehicle, the best purple Jeep known to humanity, since the dawn of time. The travel up the treacherous roads of the mountain was an easy task for the Jeep and its expert driver. At last... our destination...
A wave of uneasiness swept over me as I was led towards the door. I had been briefed on what I could and could not say, as well as how to behave. I walked inside. Strangers surround me in an overwhelming quantity. Introductions are given and the fun begins. Wait... Christians...? fun? UNPOSSIBLE! Oh, by the way, I haven't seen Jurassic Park.
I spend the first half hour of our arrival watching my two slow-to-learn-and-play-card-games friends get beat at "Nerds" which I fail to pronounce endlessly. I "encourage" them with some "kind" words. At last the Secede from play and in order to spite me and my "encouragement" they decide to go sledding. I am left with a choice. Stay inside with the kids and play boring games... or go outside and freeze while watching them sled. I chose the latter. Did I tell you I haven't seen Jurassic Park?
We went outside, up to the hill, lit by tiki torches. The fools were already sledding when I arrived. My two fools though, stayed with me briefly before going off on a suicidal fight against gravity which would end in them being covered with snow. The fire at the bottom was cozy and warm so I hung out there for a while. Screams of pain and fear tore through the night as the riders plummeted down the icy slopes. After an immeasurable about of time we went back inside.
I challenged Jon to a game of Battleships.
I suck at Battleships.
I haven't ever seen Jurassic Park.
Jon is King of Battleships.
After battleships I flipped through a Book of Ripley's Believe It or Not, I want thirty minutes of my life back. Then it was back outside to the sled hill for more recklessness on every ones part, but mine. But they weren't near as reckless as when the boy tried to climb the electric fence in Jurassic Park, which I have never seen. The boys decided to sled down the road and I volunteered to pick them up at the bottom in the Jeep. Shortly after they left I decided to drive down and I realized the keys were nowhere to be found! Apparently Jon had them still, at the bottom of the hill.
Back inside for pictionary!
Then worship, which blew right through new years, thankfully we escaped in the middle. I spent my new years in a kitchen, in a house I had never been in before, with worship songs in the background, tightly hugging my two companions. And through all the noise, and all the distractions... to us... we were the only three that existed at that moment in time, we were alone, together.
After the songs ended we headed outside and started lighting fireworks. Sean burnt and imaginary hole in his jacket. He is the only one who can see it, kind of like how I am the only person to have not seen Jurassic Park. The fireworks ended and we gathered back into Jon's car for the ride home.
The car still smelled like Tacobell... and fireworks.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Never
I rotate the handle slowly and push gently with my shoulder, I move quickly inside the frigid room. I switch off the lights as the door gently closes behind me, the lock clicks shut beneath my fingers. The lights of the city shine through the fog and the window, far in the distance. The wind whistles through the trees outside and the house shudders, I close the window quickly and shut the blinds. Darkness. The dim blue digital clock is the only source of light. It illuminates my room with a soft semi-luminescent glow. I fumble across the carpet to my nightstand.
She pauses only to brush away the strands of blonde hair that have fallen across her face before returning to the task at hand. Her fingers fumble as she tries to place the small marshmellow on the hook in the darkness of the early morning. Gently, waves lap against the dock as the three of us sit with our poles. My best friend reclines behing her in his chair watching the horizon. The sun slowly rises over the tree line casting out the shadows of the early morning and filling the lake with a transparent blue. The air is warm, the red-streaked morning sky is cloudless, the water is calm, and so are we.
I find the edge of my bed and reach over to turn on the lamp, light fills the room and I am blinded temporarily, I pull back the blankets and sit down, exhausted from the busy day. Deftly I slide off my pants and shirt and crawl slowly into bed. The room is dark, and I am alone.
Together we row slowly across the crystalline lake. The water ripples in the light breeze as we travel in our small tin raft. It wobbles under the weight of the three of us. The sun is high in the sky, it's brilliant rays caressing every inch of the water. We stop paddling in silent agreement that this is the place, the water is warmer here, and clear-blue to the lake floor. She looks at us as if to say, "you first", and we slide off our shirts and slip into the cool water. We face away from her long enough to let her change. She splashes in beside us, soaking my hair and getting water in my mouth. She emerges from her dive behind me, laying her head back she lets herself float to the surface on her back, relaxed, thats what this place is all about.
I lay my head back on my pillow and close my eyes, the blackness of the room envelops me and I am left with my thoughts, of how, and why. Today was a long day between school and work. Not much time to stop and smell the roses, not much time to just relax, and think. But now I can't stop thinking about her, I sigh as more thoughts run through my head, all of them of her.
I dash out the screen door to catch her, which I do quickly; she had stopped to smell some unknown purple flower. We follow the path around the lake, winding and turning through the light foliage. Birds chirp softly in the trees as we walk. We follow the shore for awhile, walking over beached logs. She talks of how fun the weekend has been, how beautiful the lake is, how much she will miss it. About how she wishes life could always be this surreal, how she wishes that we could have a life like this continously, not just once a year. I whisper to her, telling her when were older we can come here, as much as we like, just the three of us, if we like. She smiles.
Never; such a very long word, and it's all that rings through my head. I will never see her again. Her face clouds my mind, the scenes of our last time together suffocate me. It truly hurts me to remember, but I know that it would only hurt me deeper to forget. She is gone now, far from here, dead. But she still lives in my memory, still breathes in my dreams. She plays tennis, she runs, she dances. All I have left to hold on to is an image, a picture frozen in my mind, of that last beautiful smile. That is all I need, to get me through the long nights. Finally, my mind can take no more, I drift to sleep, to dream; to dream of what we had, and what we lost.
She pauses only to brush away the strands of blonde hair that have fallen across her face before returning to the task at hand. Her fingers fumble as she tries to place the small marshmellow on the hook in the darkness of the early morning. Gently, waves lap against the dock as the three of us sit with our poles. My best friend reclines behing her in his chair watching the horizon. The sun slowly rises over the tree line casting out the shadows of the early morning and filling the lake with a transparent blue. The air is warm, the red-streaked morning sky is cloudless, the water is calm, and so are we.
I find the edge of my bed and reach over to turn on the lamp, light fills the room and I am blinded temporarily, I pull back the blankets and sit down, exhausted from the busy day. Deftly I slide off my pants and shirt and crawl slowly into bed. The room is dark, and I am alone.
Together we row slowly across the crystalline lake. The water ripples in the light breeze as we travel in our small tin raft. It wobbles under the weight of the three of us. The sun is high in the sky, it's brilliant rays caressing every inch of the water. We stop paddling in silent agreement that this is the place, the water is warmer here, and clear-blue to the lake floor. She looks at us as if to say, "you first", and we slide off our shirts and slip into the cool water. We face away from her long enough to let her change. She splashes in beside us, soaking my hair and getting water in my mouth. She emerges from her dive behind me, laying her head back she lets herself float to the surface on her back, relaxed, thats what this place is all about.
I lay my head back on my pillow and close my eyes, the blackness of the room envelops me and I am left with my thoughts, of how, and why. Today was a long day between school and work. Not much time to stop and smell the roses, not much time to just relax, and think. But now I can't stop thinking about her, I sigh as more thoughts run through my head, all of them of her.
I dash out the screen door to catch her, which I do quickly; she had stopped to smell some unknown purple flower. We follow the path around the lake, winding and turning through the light foliage. Birds chirp softly in the trees as we walk. We follow the shore for awhile, walking over beached logs. She talks of how fun the weekend has been, how beautiful the lake is, how much she will miss it. About how she wishes life could always be this surreal, how she wishes that we could have a life like this continously, not just once a year. I whisper to her, telling her when were older we can come here, as much as we like, just the three of us, if we like. She smiles.
Never; such a very long word, and it's all that rings through my head. I will never see her again. Her face clouds my mind, the scenes of our last time together suffocate me. It truly hurts me to remember, but I know that it would only hurt me deeper to forget. She is gone now, far from here, dead. But she still lives in my memory, still breathes in my dreams. She plays tennis, she runs, she dances. All I have left to hold on to is an image, a picture frozen in my mind, of that last beautiful smile. That is all I need, to get me through the long nights. Finally, my mind can take no more, I drift to sleep, to dream; to dream of what we had, and what we lost.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Another weekend.
I hate this weekend. I love this weekend. I am torn between all that was amazing this weekend and what it preceded. I am in complete and utter shock at the loss I've had, and overjoyed at the time I had with friends. I guess they balance eachother. Perhaps thats while I don't feel anything at all, no pain, no joy, just the piano keys beneath my fingers and the weight of my shirt on my shoulders; it feels liks the world.
I need to sleep now. Good night,
Jonathan
I need to sleep now. Good night,
Jonathan
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Reconciliation
At first... I thought I may have deserved it.
For the walk out I saw it coming, with each step leading to an imminent yet temporary doom. We walk on... away from the crowd... Accused... accused of... there should be a statute of limitations on things such as this... we arrive... You cannot accuse someone and threaten them based on a flaw in their personailty that no longer exists... I am pushed against the rear of a car... you cannot punish someone for a problem already roconciled.
"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent"
Tonight another incompetent approached me and offered me violence in exchange for becoming who I already am. Go ahead, beat my ass... fuck me up... "destroy" me... And his justification was that he was to punish me for something.... As If I hadn't punished myself enough over the last few years to "fix" myself and my flaws. He intended... in a sense... to execute a man who was once a part of me, a man who was already dead, slain by my thoughts and actions over the past year.
What little respect I had for him is lost. If he had followed through in fighting me, with or without the support of his group he'd brought, I doubt I would have fought back. It was trivial to me, even afterwards... Just another part of my day that could have gone better or could have gone worse. There is no point in dwelling on a problem that exists only in the mind of an incompetent.
Night,
Jon
For the walk out I saw it coming, with each step leading to an imminent yet temporary doom. We walk on... away from the crowd... Accused... accused of... there should be a statute of limitations on things such as this... we arrive... You cannot accuse someone and threaten them based on a flaw in their personailty that no longer exists... I am pushed against the rear of a car... you cannot punish someone for a problem already roconciled.
"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent"
Tonight another incompetent approached me and offered me violence in exchange for becoming who I already am. Go ahead, beat my ass... fuck me up... "destroy" me... And his justification was that he was to punish me for something.... As If I hadn't punished myself enough over the last few years to "fix" myself and my flaws. He intended... in a sense... to execute a man who was once a part of me, a man who was already dead, slain by my thoughts and actions over the past year.
What little respect I had for him is lost. If he had followed through in fighting me, with or without the support of his group he'd brought, I doubt I would have fought back. It was trivial to me, even afterwards... Just another part of my day that could have gone better or could have gone worse. There is no point in dwelling on a problem that exists only in the mind of an incompetent.
Night,
Jon
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Perseverance
I lay backwards on my bed, my feet entangled in pillows, begging me not to leave; so I don't. An artificial wind blows across my face and I lean towards the source, the fresh breeze plays with my hair. From here I see the valley laid out below me through the window, but that is not what has my attention. I'm fixated on a small object on the book shelf. I move to it.
A small globe filled with pure white sand, given to me by my father to help me understand the one characteristic I lacked in greatest abundance: perseverance. I set the sphere back on its stand, paying heed to the metal plaque on the side. There, engraved in the metal, is a saying, ages old, that has driven me since that day I first understood it...
"The power to shape your future is earned through persistence. No other quality is as essential to success. It is the sandpaper that breaks down all resistance and sweeps through all obstacles. It is the ability to move mountains one grain of sand at a time."
Pride in myself and all I do, as well as my never-ceasing efforts, define me over the last two years. Looking back at who I was and who I have become has shown nothing short of a monumental change in personality, I have matured. The change however has mostly taken part in the last four months. For once I have been persisting at something that I truly want for myself. Something I still refuse to give up on, even as things get harder and harder. Yet I realize... I realize that for every ounce of effort I put in, for every inch I climb higher on the ladder to success the greater the distance I can fall. I climb with the blind hope and belief that I can reach solid ground once more and rest there.
I've seen that people sometimes believe they don't deserve someone. It does not matter if you do not deserve someone; as long as you give them everything you can give, you will deserve them.... they will deserve you. There is only one place in the world where pure and total altruism can succeed, and that place is love.
“Try and fail, but don't fail to try.”
-Jon
A small globe filled with pure white sand, given to me by my father to help me understand the one characteristic I lacked in greatest abundance: perseverance. I set the sphere back on its stand, paying heed to the metal plaque on the side. There, engraved in the metal, is a saying, ages old, that has driven me since that day I first understood it...
"The power to shape your future is earned through persistence. No other quality is as essential to success. It is the sandpaper that breaks down all resistance and sweeps through all obstacles. It is the ability to move mountains one grain of sand at a time."
Pride in myself and all I do, as well as my never-ceasing efforts, define me over the last two years. Looking back at who I was and who I have become has shown nothing short of a monumental change in personality, I have matured. The change however has mostly taken part in the last four months. For once I have been persisting at something that I truly want for myself. Something I still refuse to give up on, even as things get harder and harder. Yet I realize... I realize that for every ounce of effort I put in, for every inch I climb higher on the ladder to success the greater the distance I can fall. I climb with the blind hope and belief that I can reach solid ground once more and rest there.
I've seen that people sometimes believe they don't deserve someone. It does not matter if you do not deserve someone; as long as you give them everything you can give, you will deserve them.... they will deserve you. There is only one place in the world where pure and total altruism can succeed, and that place is love.
“Try and fail, but don't fail to try.”
-Jon
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Fears
I have, in the last eighteen years of my life, come to the conclussion that everyone has fears. No matter what face someone may show you, what lies they may tell, they all fear something. I guess it wasn't until... sometime yesterday evening, that I discovered one of mine.
I have some of the more standardized fears. Among others are tight spaces, heights, snakes, spiders and a few I have trouble remembering until they occur. Death too. I fear this greatly, seeing it would be the end of my life and my existence, neither of which I want to lose. But the one I found yesterday I did not expect to be afraid of so much... losing at love.
So recently I have become more and more involved with a beautiful young girl. A girl I, at first, didn't believe I could ever deserve. Somehow she pulls out the best in me and makes me want to be "that guy" that's right for her. But that was just the beginning. As the last few months have gone on I merged these new characteristics into my personality and found I like who I am becoming, and so does she. So here I am, at the peak of my life so far, and not alone at it. She has helped me climb my mountain of challenges, and it hasn't been easy all the way. No relationship is perfect, most will encounter some sort of problem occasionally, if not frequently.
No two people are perfect for each other, many people often look at their parents and see that they get along without problems the majority of the time, if not all of it. And seeing this they say I want to wait for someone who will be my match like that... Relationships that are nearly perfect that are not 'found', they are built. People that are close enough where conflict rarely occurs have only gotten there by enduring conflicts in their past, and learned from them.
Last night I had far too many sleepless hours to think of whats happening lately. I'm scared. For myself, for her, for us.
"It’s hard to tell your mind to stop loving someone when your heart still does."
-Jon
I have some of the more standardized fears. Among others are tight spaces, heights, snakes, spiders and a few I have trouble remembering until they occur. Death too. I fear this greatly, seeing it would be the end of my life and my existence, neither of which I want to lose. But the one I found yesterday I did not expect to be afraid of so much... losing at love.
So recently I have become more and more involved with a beautiful young girl. A girl I, at first, didn't believe I could ever deserve. Somehow she pulls out the best in me and makes me want to be "that guy" that's right for her. But that was just the beginning. As the last few months have gone on I merged these new characteristics into my personality and found I like who I am becoming, and so does she. So here I am, at the peak of my life so far, and not alone at it. She has helped me climb my mountain of challenges, and it hasn't been easy all the way. No relationship is perfect, most will encounter some sort of problem occasionally, if not frequently.
No two people are perfect for each other, many people often look at their parents and see that they get along without problems the majority of the time, if not all of it. And seeing this they say I want to wait for someone who will be my match like that... Relationships that are nearly perfect that are not 'found', they are built. People that are close enough where conflict rarely occurs have only gotten there by enduring conflicts in their past, and learned from them.
Last night I had far too many sleepless hours to think of whats happening lately. I'm scared. For myself, for her, for us.
"It’s hard to tell your mind to stop loving someone when your heart still does."
-Jon
Monday, June 9, 2008
Of Lemons and Lemonade
So lets assume for a moment that lemonade is something bad, something you shouldn't make, drink or be involved with in anyway. Now let's also assume that Lemonade is the most addictive and appealing substance on the planet, as dangerous or wrong it may be, it is amazing to the consumer.
Now let's suppose one day Life looks at you and says, "Hey, lets give that guy a lemon and see what he does."
Could you, assuming the things above, not make lemonade?
Would you have the strength to overcome your desire to take the lemon and drink it? Would you be capable of setting it aside, for as long as necessary to overcome your desire? Or perhaps plant it and let it grow?
This evening I found I could.
I was given a shot at lemonade tonight and decided to wait it out. Lemonade is worth the time, right? The lemon is quite beautiful, enticing, but I think I am making the right choice, as great as lemonade is, I think I am beginning to prefer the company of this lemon.
Perhaps in the end, after planting this lemon, culturing it, caring for it and letting it grow; I can have both my lemon, and my lemonade, and that is definitely worth waiting for.
-Jon
Now let's suppose one day Life looks at you and says, "Hey, lets give that guy a lemon and see what he does."
Could you, assuming the things above, not make lemonade?
Would you have the strength to overcome your desire to take the lemon and drink it? Would you be capable of setting it aside, for as long as necessary to overcome your desire? Or perhaps plant it and let it grow?
This evening I found I could.
I was given a shot at lemonade tonight and decided to wait it out. Lemonade is worth the time, right? The lemon is quite beautiful, enticing, but I think I am making the right choice, as great as lemonade is, I think I am beginning to prefer the company of this lemon.
Perhaps in the end, after planting this lemon, culturing it, caring for it and letting it grow; I can have both my lemon, and my lemonade, and that is definitely worth waiting for.
-Jon
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Circumscriptive Existentialism
I feel that this week contained many more then seven days, the past three have felt like weeks in and of themselves. My mind stretches the time as I stress and panic about school, life, friends, love. Too many things have gone wrong this week, my future is tearing itself apart because of my lack of direction in everything. I've given a lot of thought to what I want to do lately, and it is still too soon for me to choose a direction I want to go in. This is going to be what I make it at some point, but for now it's too early.
Relationships are complicated in the simplest of details. The smallest thing can become the largest trivial argument, the most important things can be brushed off, never to be dealt with. I don't understand what it is that drives humans to be so backwards in their emotional logic. You cannot let your emotions in any way dictate your actions, rash action is never the answer.
Existentialism seems to be my ideal for this week. I can make of my life whatever I want to make, I can do anything I put my mind to, I control my own destiny. This would all be true except for the interference of the monarchy which is my parents. Last night I came home rather late, somewhere in the vicinity of the three o'clock hour. Needless to say I'm now grounded but I guess I can try to make the most of my time while I'm stuck at home.
And as for last night...
This 'dance', if you could call it that, was rather boring. Spent a great deal of time sitting and drinking punch and giving lap dances to Justin. That's how bored I was. Danced with some random people, but mostly the normal crew. After the dance we headed to Christian's to go hot tubbing only to discover that in our great planning process we had acquired a few more people then the hot tub could hold, so.... we left. Headed back to the house that Tamara house sits for on the weekend and hot tubbed there. Just Matt, Tamarra, Rachel and I.
Hot tubs have so many stereotypical things that happen in them, and we decided to follow this rule and play some truth or dare, the official hot tub game. Well there were two girls and two guys, so all hell broke loose. I think things proceeded in this order over the next few hours.
Me Truth: Told the story of my "first time."
Matt Truth: What really happened with Rachel Quick.
Me Dare: Kiss Matt.
Matt Dare: Give me a lap dance. (I dared him to do that one)
Rachel Truth?: Can't remember this one.
Jon Dare: Get naked and dance in the yard.
Somewhere in there Tamarra arrives.
Tamarra Truth: Will you go out with me? (Matt asking)
Tamarra: No.
Jon Dare: Receive a hickey from Matt, anywhere on my chest. (I refuse and get naked in the yard again instead)
and on and on and on.
It ended and I head home late and arrive to unhappy parents. Grounded.
Grounded.
I mean my parents... they punish me, completely understandable; learn my lesson, move on.
People outside punish me as well, as weird as that sounds.
Not to say its unfair, I do very much enjoy being punished.
“Men simply copied the realities of their hearts when they built prisons"
-Jon
Relationships are complicated in the simplest of details. The smallest thing can become the largest trivial argument, the most important things can be brushed off, never to be dealt with. I don't understand what it is that drives humans to be so backwards in their emotional logic. You cannot let your emotions in any way dictate your actions, rash action is never the answer.
Existentialism seems to be my ideal for this week. I can make of my life whatever I want to make, I can do anything I put my mind to, I control my own destiny. This would all be true except for the interference of the monarchy which is my parents. Last night I came home rather late, somewhere in the vicinity of the three o'clock hour. Needless to say I'm now grounded but I guess I can try to make the most of my time while I'm stuck at home.
And as for last night...
This 'dance', if you could call it that, was rather boring. Spent a great deal of time sitting and drinking punch and giving lap dances to Justin. That's how bored I was. Danced with some random people, but mostly the normal crew. After the dance we headed to Christian's to go hot tubbing only to discover that in our great planning process we had acquired a few more people then the hot tub could hold, so.... we left. Headed back to the house that Tamara house sits for on the weekend and hot tubbed there. Just Matt, Tamarra, Rachel and I.
Hot tubs have so many stereotypical things that happen in them, and we decided to follow this rule and play some truth or dare, the official hot tub game. Well there were two girls and two guys, so all hell broke loose. I think things proceeded in this order over the next few hours.
Me Truth: Told the story of my "first time."
Matt Truth: What really happened with Rachel Quick.
Me Dare: Kiss Matt.
Matt Dare: Give me a lap dance. (I dared him to do that one)
Rachel Truth?: Can't remember this one.
Jon Dare: Get naked and dance in the yard.
Somewhere in there Tamarra arrives.
Tamarra Truth: Will you go out with me? (Matt asking)
Tamarra: No.
Jon Dare: Receive a hickey from Matt, anywhere on my chest. (I refuse and get naked in the yard again instead)
and on and on and on.
It ended and I head home late and arrive to unhappy parents. Grounded.
Grounded.
I mean my parents... they punish me, completely understandable; learn my lesson, move on.
People outside punish me as well, as weird as that sounds.
Not to say its unfair, I do very much enjoy being punished.
“Men simply copied the realities of their hearts when they built prisons"
-Jon
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Sunday
I woke up at eleven thirty today.
That's the kind of Sunday that it started out to be.
I rolled out of bed and crawled to my closet clawing as high as I could to reach a shirt and some pants to wear, I found some socks on the floor. Last night really sucked the energy out of me. It's like my body left its headlights on when it went to sleep and I woke up drained. I managed to get down stairs, this involved a lot of falling and leaning on things. In the kitchen I found some pizza and I plopped it in the microwave, part of this complete breakfast. I don't understand the chemical make up of pizza but I guess it contained enough calories to pull me out of my stupor. I spent the rest of my morning and early afternoon lounging in front of my computer making music.
Making music is much harder then I ever thought, but at the same time very rewarding even during the journey of a song's creation. I don't know what I'm gonna title this thirty second masterpeice yet, I think I need to be more creative and write the rest of it later this week. Maybe throw in another instrument or two. I'll host it somewhere soon for anyone that wants to hear it. It's not long, and not great, but it's getting there.
After the music-making fun I switched to eating and watching a movie. Dirty Rotten Scoundrels has got to be one of the best classic comedy's every written, and Steve Martin is amazing. I could not stop laughing, especially at the parts where he plays Ruprick the retarded younger brother with a fixation for pots, pans and a deep fear of genital cuffs.
Somewhere around six I decided to drop by that girls house and hang out. Which I did. Arrived there earlier then expected and got the usual run down from the father, brief lecture and such. We headed back to the car and drove off with no particular destination in mind, which meant we ended up at the park. At the park we decided to take a walk, I had parked at the ice rink and we headed to the Lynden Tree Area. We chatted about daily life, friends, parents, I have a thing for small talk. We held hands, probably one of the three best feeling in the world. So much is symbolized within such a simple act; Trust, Comfort, Guardianship, Solace, Love.
We walked to the Lynden Tree Area and walked off behind the brush, into the tree's and open grass, hidden from view of the path. I layed on my back and the grass, staring at the sky while she played with grass and we talked about life, random stuff. Nothing important, but nothing trivial. I roll over and lay an arm across her back while she continues to play with the grass. I lay my head down as I listen to her speak. She moves closer to me and I pull her in with my arm and she struggles jokingly, we keep talking and pushing eachother around and I end up on my back with her kneeling beside me. She references how smooth her legs are today and I graze my hand over one of them; if you have ever swam with a dolphin and touched one, thats how smooth and soft her legs are. She extends one leg over me and sits on my lower abdomen, one leg on each side of my waist. Her wait is on my waist and I feel great as we sit and talk, my arms rest on her thighs while she stares down at me and we talk. She rests a hand on my shoulder and leans in and kisses me, soft, warm, her lips are full and soft, perfect, and she's getting good at using them. She breaks the kiss and leans up and we sit and talk more and more. She climbs off me and we lay in the grass and I stare at her as she fiddle's with some blades of grass.
She has grown in the last week, not physically of course, but emotionally. Today she is confident, she is open, no nervous staring or fidgeting. She looks me in the eyes, she speaks confidently, she takes control when necessary. I think at last I am beginning to see the real her, what she's like in her natural state of being.
We both kneel up and I face her as we talk more and I sit on my ankles. We play a bit with eachother as we talk and I eventually push her down on her back and sit on her as she had done to me. We talk a bit more and I grab her arms and lean down on her, pushing her arms above her head and into the grass, she closes her eyes in anticipation and I stop, hovering there for seconds, which seem like hours, she opens her eyes and looks at me, my face inches from hers. She wants it, but I'm forcing her to wait. She squirms beneath me, I laugh and press my lips to hers and loosen my grip on her wrists, we kiss, and kiss until I am out of breath and lean up from her. Lifting my leg around, I roll off her and onto my back in the grass again, we lay there until we realize what time it is and we head off, back to the car, hand in hand. We head back to her house and I let her change my radio station presets as we sit ourside her house in the car. She doesn't want to get home till exactly at eight, so we sit and talk for twenty minutes or so. I lean over and kiss her goodbye before she walks back into her house. I drive home, not daring to change the radio station from the one she had chosen.
I work more on my music for a while before writing here, it's coming along slowly, but it's getting there. Today is amazing, she is amazing. What better way to spend the rest of my evening then listening to Smash Mouth and talking with her. Happy music for a happy man? And what is the reason for this happiness?
She is the reason.
“Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence"
Night,
-Jon
That's the kind of Sunday that it started out to be.
I rolled out of bed and crawled to my closet clawing as high as I could to reach a shirt and some pants to wear, I found some socks on the floor. Last night really sucked the energy out of me. It's like my body left its headlights on when it went to sleep and I woke up drained. I managed to get down stairs, this involved a lot of falling and leaning on things. In the kitchen I found some pizza and I plopped it in the microwave, part of this complete breakfast. I don't understand the chemical make up of pizza but I guess it contained enough calories to pull me out of my stupor. I spent the rest of my morning and early afternoon lounging in front of my computer making music.
Making music is much harder then I ever thought, but at the same time very rewarding even during the journey of a song's creation. I don't know what I'm gonna title this thirty second masterpeice yet, I think I need to be more creative and write the rest of it later this week. Maybe throw in another instrument or two. I'll host it somewhere soon for anyone that wants to hear it. It's not long, and not great, but it's getting there.
After the music-making fun I switched to eating and watching a movie. Dirty Rotten Scoundrels has got to be one of the best classic comedy's every written, and Steve Martin is amazing. I could not stop laughing, especially at the parts where he plays Ruprick the retarded younger brother with a fixation for pots, pans and a deep fear of genital cuffs.
Somewhere around six I decided to drop by that girls house and hang out. Which I did. Arrived there earlier then expected and got the usual run down from the father, brief lecture and such. We headed back to the car and drove off with no particular destination in mind, which meant we ended up at the park. At the park we decided to take a walk, I had parked at the ice rink and we headed to the Lynden Tree Area. We chatted about daily life, friends, parents, I have a thing for small talk. We held hands, probably one of the three best feeling in the world. So much is symbolized within such a simple act; Trust, Comfort, Guardianship, Solace, Love.
We walked to the Lynden Tree Area and walked off behind the brush, into the tree's and open grass, hidden from view of the path. I layed on my back and the grass, staring at the sky while she played with grass and we talked about life, random stuff. Nothing important, but nothing trivial. I roll over and lay an arm across her back while she continues to play with the grass. I lay my head down as I listen to her speak. She moves closer to me and I pull her in with my arm and she struggles jokingly, we keep talking and pushing eachother around and I end up on my back with her kneeling beside me. She references how smooth her legs are today and I graze my hand over one of them; if you have ever swam with a dolphin and touched one, thats how smooth and soft her legs are. She extends one leg over me and sits on my lower abdomen, one leg on each side of my waist. Her wait is on my waist and I feel great as we sit and talk, my arms rest on her thighs while she stares down at me and we talk. She rests a hand on my shoulder and leans in and kisses me, soft, warm, her lips are full and soft, perfect, and she's getting good at using them. She breaks the kiss and leans up and we sit and talk more and more. She climbs off me and we lay in the grass and I stare at her as she fiddle's with some blades of grass.
She has grown in the last week, not physically of course, but emotionally. Today she is confident, she is open, no nervous staring or fidgeting. She looks me in the eyes, she speaks confidently, she takes control when necessary. I think at last I am beginning to see the real her, what she's like in her natural state of being.
We both kneel up and I face her as we talk more and I sit on my ankles. We play a bit with eachother as we talk and I eventually push her down on her back and sit on her as she had done to me. We talk a bit more and I grab her arms and lean down on her, pushing her arms above her head and into the grass, she closes her eyes in anticipation and I stop, hovering there for seconds, which seem like hours, she opens her eyes and looks at me, my face inches from hers. She wants it, but I'm forcing her to wait. She squirms beneath me, I laugh and press my lips to hers and loosen my grip on her wrists, we kiss, and kiss until I am out of breath and lean up from her. Lifting my leg around, I roll off her and onto my back in the grass again, we lay there until we realize what time it is and we head off, back to the car, hand in hand. We head back to her house and I let her change my radio station presets as we sit ourside her house in the car. She doesn't want to get home till exactly at eight, so we sit and talk for twenty minutes or so. I lean over and kiss her goodbye before she walks back into her house. I drive home, not daring to change the radio station from the one she had chosen.
I work more on my music for a while before writing here, it's coming along slowly, but it's getting there. Today is amazing, she is amazing. What better way to spend the rest of my evening then listening to Smash Mouth and talking with her. Happy music for a happy man? And what is the reason for this happiness?
She is the reason.
“Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence"
Night,
-Jon
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