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if there is one thing i can't stand, it's people who are late.

i'm pretty easy-going up until about 30 minutes late. the person i spend a lot of time with is constantly, always, chronically late. anywhere from an hour, to just not showing up at all and not saying anything to me.

like right now, i'm doing her and her family a favour by taking her brother's senior photos since the person they wanted to take them said no. we planned to shoot 8 to noon since we have four different locations and i can lose track of time incredibly easily.

it's 930, my place is set up for the shot i want (not the one they need, but i need to get something out of this) and they're still not here. we were originally going to get breakfast but that's been nixed.

she called just as i was typing this out and said that she's just going to come here, we'll get the shot i want, and then we'll go get something to eat.

awesome, we'll only be two and a half hours late then, since it's sunday and no restaurant will have an open table in about 30 minutes.

whatever, they're not my photos.

at noon this person has to go home and test drive a car, and then we have to go back downtown and go to her work for writing club, which i don't want to do.

oh good the plans have changed again, and now we're going to eat first.

sigh.

the last time i wrote in here i was whining about that guy.

since then a lot has happened. i am still whining about that guy, but in new, more annoying ways.

we talk every day, all day long. he and i work on creative projects together, we hang out outside of work. he spends a lot of time being not-so-nice to his girlfriend.

there's been a bunch of drama involving other people asking us what exactly is going on. a lot of drama between the two of us as we hash out everything that went down, exactly (why he stopped talking to me, whether or not he thinks i'm lying, what he's doing with his life, me leaving the country) ...

had a discussion yesterday afternoon about how i feel if i leave, he'll continue on as he is now for the next thirty years. i don't really want that for him, but it's also not my job to change that. if things were different, i may be in a position to do something about it.

it ended in me essentially deciding that i need to start making some moves to go back to canada.

so at least i have an answer. he keeps alluding that things are going to change, and that it's 'all about timing' .... well i'm tired of waiting for him to figure out that i'm the answer to a lot of his problems. so i'm leaving.

so i don't write much these days. i live almost entirely in my interior world. so a friend gave me some words to write about.

rocks: it makes me laugh that this is a word people associate me with. yeah, i guess i like rocks. i like rocks a lot. i usually have rocks in my pocket. most people who are into the metaphysical properties of stones have a little bag with small pieces of various things that they think help them (i could name you everything jake keeps in his pants. hurr hurr).

i usually just have a big chunk of whatever i feel i need that day. i'll wake up, figure out what i have going on and how i feel, and make a selection and stick it in my pocket.

most commonly i have kyanite in my pocket, but i also like jet (not actually a rock), or carnelian.

i also always wear a ring (of either black star diopside or malachite), and a pendant (either black tourmaline or prehnite). prior to meeting jim, the only jewelry i ever wore was a ring around a box chain necklace. i started wearing more when i started stealing things from jim's jewelry box (and his fingers and pockets i guess) ... and i noticed it had an odd effect on me.

i notice now that when i'm not wearing black star diopside i have an incredibly hard time concentrating. i'm very flighty and easily agitated.

i try not to go too overboard with the whole rocks n shit thing. not like jim is (though given more exposure and time spent, it does get worse), but i do believe that it helps me in some ways. plus that shit is INTERESTING. and rocks are pretty.

i just ordered aquamarine, malachite, obsidian, citrine, and a few other things. i'm getting anxious for them to show up.

canada: i miss my home country. years and years of being told that the states and canada are exactly the same has made me really pay attention to every single way it isn't. nebraska is much like saskatchewan, though, so i don't feel homesick in major ways. mostly just tiny things. i miss brandee's at 11pm for slurpee runs. i miss not thinking in terms of 'oh god i could have to pay for this' when it comes to health issues. i miss canadian radio. i miss the cbc. i really really miss the way my hometown just ceases existing out in the south end. i miss knowing all the spots in the various cities i've lived in where i can go and sit and sing at the top of my lungs and not have anyone approach me.

music: i'm not going to say a lot here. except that i've known three people who can keep up with me talking about music. only one of them speaks to me. it is mostly heartbreaking.

hawks: shae means hawk-like. i have the online name hawksley because i love hawksley workman's music. and hawks keep following me around and ... making me think too much, when i need it most. when i was little, we had hawks nesting on the roof across from ours and i would sit on the roof outside my window with pilfered binoculars and watch them. they were vicious but also beautiful.

i was also forever jealous of tobias. (if you get this reference, NERRRRDDDD)

ear-hats: i make them. i wear them because i don't brush my hair. there isn't much thought put into this anymore.

mandatory reading for disciples and patrons of existentialist park.

new applicants must be blurs of personality. reality destruction a must. sacrifice ignorance for clairty. rite of passage. must be fearless.

lying on my floor sedated to a point where music starts taking up residence in my extremities

in my absence i pop in twice a day or so and have these absolute experiences in clarity. i say i miss being insane and i wonder if i'm just trying to go back to being blameless

but then i feel like this and i know i know why i want to be here

"how dangerous am i?"
"pretty fucking goddamned dangerous."

honesty is the best policy.

i'm posessive. it's my biggest fault. it encompasses all my other (many) faults. an example.

i don't like it when people listen to my music. it is my music. i've painstakingly adored it for so long. i've coaxed it into popularity. i've ruined my own good thing, by giving it to the people i love most. by compiling lists of songs for friends. electronic mix tapes build up with the months of reccomondations and uploads and links.

i suppose that in itself isn't ruining it. it's when said friends give it to people they like. or even people they don't like. i don't like it when things i cherish are strewn about so carelessly. not that i think music shouldn't be shared.

i just don't want people who aren't going to appreciate it to get it. because then a piece of it dies. and so much good music has disappeared alltogether already.

i love it when people are posessive of me. when they do something that's almost protective. i haven't felt safe in years.

every time i sit down and try and catch up, it ends up being this huge emotional rollercoaster.

my stomach is in knots

my palms are sweaty

it's my turn, next.

[23:10] < hawksley> i don't want to forgive. i want him to forgive me. because he should be better than this shit
[23:10] < ruki> He should be. but he isn't.
[23:10] < ruki> So maybe
[23:11] < ruki> you need to forgive him.
[23:11] < ruki> for being human.
[23:11] < hawksley> hm
[23:11] < ruki> and being faulted.
[23:11] < ruki> because... maybe your expectations are causing you some hurt?
[23:11] < hawksley> probably, yeah
[23:12] < ruki> maybe you can be compassionate to the fact that he is childish and that his ego is pushing him into isolation.
[23:12] < hawksley> but i can't be okay with that
[23:12] < hawksley> i don't want him to be miserable
[23:12] < hawksley> and i am an egotist I CAN FIX IT
[23:12] < ruki> no, but its his lesson to fix it.

i'm in love.

fuck.

I entered into an agreement with old friends that we would engage in bedtime stories. Completely true retellings of the things that have altered our thought patterns forever. Irreparable damages and doors mistakenly opened.

Alternately: 'progress'.

re-manifesting all those nights spent so alone with all those uneasy answers, the three of us (in our geographic triangle, how fitting) are on this ledge of too-much.

we're all at that spot where we either have to own up to what we're all thinking (in all its different iterations and intonations) or we can keep dancing around it. Let it lurk on the periphery, never fully entering into our lives in any way where any kind of control is lost.

We've all felt this. Years ago. Tonight. In dreams. On those manic, untouchable nights that are suspended in sound stage syndrome. We all see glimpses of it. I witness it in the trees, in the people I love, in his motions. You see it in Your city, and the entropy emanating from everywhere. And you live it more than anything. Constantly curious but cautious about cementing anything.

The truth?

as painful as it is to be affected by every single thing around me (leaves, stars, light, sadness, insomnia, moths, ignorance, intelligence, beauty, the exhale on 'we will follow eachother into the dark' before the lyrics start...), its the responsible thing to do. To be completely aware of everything I put out into the world. Attitude, intention, emotion. Work. ideas. Thoughts. love.

if I back away now i'll shirk responsibility once more.

in the only way that matters to me. I finally found a responsibility even I can't blow off.

So, a story.

I've never felt more at home than driving with him. Listening to pitfighter on loop as the sun came up, seeing him for the first time in months, he somehow knew I was going to ask him to show me his hometown.

as soon as we got there, I simply understood. More than I'd ever gotten from him in four years was presented to me driving past his old house. With his trees. That bakery. His bank. Walking down those paths with the ice giving way.

I went back any time I could possibly go. Because the context it gave me was invaluable.

It happened with him, too. And her.

My understanding of people isn't a cognizant process.
Its handed to me. one day I just realize.

and I wouldn't trade knowing you all for anything in the world.

"...."
"... rain..."
"finally."
"a huge collective sigh. everything will be okay, now."
"...."
*curls in tighter and rests head on his chest*

I entered into an agreement with old friends to continue to be as honest as ourselves (and eachother) as we possibly can.

I am in a perpetual state of halfway.

"I'm unconsoled, I'm lonely, I am so much better than I used to be. Terrified of telephones and shopping malls and knives, I'm drowning in the pools of other lives. Rely a bit too heavily on alcohol and irony, get clobbered on by courtesy, in love with love and lousy poetry. And I'm leaning on this broken fence, between past and present tense. And I'm losing all those stupid games that I swore I'd never play.

But it almost feels okay."

My absolute need to fix what has happened between myself and a friend has turned me into a vapid, predictable, pedantic individual. Something as unexplainable and unbelievable as psychic battles at the Gates of Praise and nonverbal communication on a level that rivals enlightenment has been reduced to yours truly whining about how a boy won't talk to her.

I've become boring.

The very thing I hate more than anything. Ritualistic, and measurable. Upon realizing this I sat and tried to decide what the proper course of action was. How do I un-become what I hate most about other people?

And I don't think I can. Not right now. But that in itself makes me want to rise to the challenge. How dare I think I can't put this aside and let it stop dictating how I feel?

Christ, who do I think I am?

What's your favourite food? Drink?

food and i don't get along. especially not lately. food is tied directly to the idea of entitlement. if i feel i've done something wrong, if i feel i've fucked up, i won't eat. not as some for of mental torture, but because my sense of guilt and shame outweighs any desire i have to ingest anything.

when erika was drunk, she made several comments about my eating habits, when i inquired about hers (which is something i frequently do with friends in real life), saying that i 'obviously wasn't doing well'.

what do you expect.

that aside, my favourite foods tend to be asian in origin. my favourite drink are slurpees. which i don't have because there aren't any 7-11s in lincoln. and no one makes a decent slurpee like they do in regina.

Where's your one favourite spot, out of all the ones you've seen?
this is such a hard question.

i'll never get to go back.

Do you dream in colour? Do you remember your dreams?
i only dream once in a while. and when i do, i don't remember it. though the last couple of dreams i've had i remember because i've had either a piece of kyanite in my hand, or a herkimer diamond hanging out near my head.

Where would you be if you hadn't chosen to become a ~~designer~~ web developer?
i don't know where i am now that i am a web developer. how can i know where i'd be if i wasn't?

You have nothing holding you anywhere: where do you go?
this is the stage i'm at in my life.

with my relationship over, my friends full of disgust for me, my family telling me not to come back, i was in this very position. no belongings. no obligations. nothing depending on me.

i didn't go anywhere. i stayed where i was.

What happened?
nothing.

and it hurts.

Current Mood: crushed

i spoke so honestly about two albums that have changed my life forever last night, that i decided to cultivate an experience.

i closed my eyes and cleared my mind. announced that my intention was to see what i needed to do next. i collected the things i would need and started out my front door.

my body started moving in directions it hadn't gone before. it was seeking out The Perfect Place for this realization to happen. i ended up laying down in a field of soft, lovely grass at a school on c street that i've never noticed before under a huge tree.

placing a piece of kyanite on my third eye, i pushed 'play' on things falling apart's the vessel and closed my eyes.

trying to control my breathing, i slowly induced a state of complete relaxation. i was completely oblivious to my surroundings. the only thing that mattered was the cells in my lungs absorbing oxygen, and the sound that was encasing me. soon all i could feel was what the music wanted me to. my various tissues no longer caring about the elements needed to survive and sustain, they fattened themselves on 3/4 counts and sonic s p a c e

Current Mood: tired

the evening brings wonderful breezes and a calm, cool, laughable feeling. i am unsure why, but i will take it.

me: good evening friend!
jj: oh thank god <3

best reaction ever. i don't tell you two fuckers nearly enough, but thank you.

thank you thank you thank you thank you a million times over, for everything you've done for me in this past while.

i don't know what's going to happen next. but i do get the feeling everything will work out in our favours.

edit

oh my god jay bennet is dead. ... what do you do with that.

Current Music: arcade fire

I've lived out my melancholy youth. I don't give a fuck anymore what's behind me, or what's ahead of me. I'm healthy. Incurably healthy. No sorrows, no regrets. No past, no future. The present is enough for me. Day by day.

It's an amazing afternoon. I spent it wandering around my neighbourhood with new eyes, listening to an album about meth addicts. Now, salad, and Maniacs.

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: mountain goats

[01:18] < hawksley> CONNOR OBERSTA
[01:18] < hawksley> no a.
[01:18] < hawksley> he's not mexican.
[01:19] < VenMalakim> ...
[01:19] < VenMalakim> emo music in the back of a pickup heading back to mexico
[01:19] < VenMalakim> all about how you've just been deported :(
[01:19] < VenMalakim> life is so hard/without my green card
[01:19] < VenMalakim> I work four jobs a day/for minimal pay/and still those men say/I must go away

i am destruction says (2:03 AM):
sorry. i made a new drink. i'm trying to come up with a name.
it's the last of my wine, lemonade, and horrible, six dollar vodka.

Designasaurus :: Praise the Lord and pass the taser says (2:03 AM):
"bad decisions."

i was talking to a friend about how we both feel like we've pulled of cosmic heists. about how we both feel like we've essentially gotten away with something while the universe had it's back turned to us.

we're both left sitting in our respective timezones, commiserating on our success in between our horrible dick jokes, the ethics of marketing, and plans to take over the world.

when i was trying to get back to lincoln, i was worried i'd never get to see jake again. i was so sure that i wouldn't end up with a contract. that i'd get trapped and the life i wanted would remain dangling out of reach. turns out that the contract was the easy part in all of this.

i see jake about 5 times a week. for 8 hours a day. all the while, i don't exist to him. i thought with time this would get easier. but it doesn't go away.

even with one of the most important aspects of my life out of commission, i feel. accomplished, somehow. this came about because i worked my ass off for it. i impressed the company i work for. i figured out the legalities. i found that apartment. i managed and filed all of my paperwork properly and get it filed and faxed and mailed.

i still can't believe this is going to work out. even with a deposit down on an apartment (that i'm in love with. it's old and small and cute and has a dishwasher and central air and a porch~) and the discussion of getting a cat (what i really want to do is drive to madison and steal ryan's cat, seamus), it doesn't seem like this is going to happen. but it is.

i was leaning against jake's bathroom sink when i realized that my entire life had been destroyed and i had nothing left. he pointed out that i'd get to make a new one.

the difference between him and anyone else:

had anyone else said that my reaction would have been 'i don't want to, i worked hard for this one' (which would have been a lie).

my actual reaction? i stopped crying and we tried to develop a game plan on the way to his doctor's office.

jake used to remind me to be grateful. that gratitude is a key concept in the Scheme of Things, and that you should project it in a very particular way. he told me over and over how to do it, when, why... so i am. and i do. and this feeling continues. i wrote jake another letter, and i mentioned in it that i feel like high-fiving leaves on the trees, buildings, and random strangers on the street all the time.

guys, don't tell anyone, but i have actually high-fived a tree. and it was awesome.

Current Mood: sore

[22:28] < MandaBear> maybe you guys have ruined me a bit
[22:29] < MandaBear> my friend just said "im so depressed i want to die" and i told him "good luck"
[22:30] < MandaBear> i could either put the phone down and make a drink or sit here and fuel this because it could be so much fun.
[22:30] < Gleek> You could do it while drinking and get the best of both worlds.
[22:30] < hawksley> ..... yeah we're bad people, guys.
[22:30] < Gleek> But we're bad people -together-.
[22:31] < Taut> and that's what counts
[22:31] < Gleek> <3
[22:31] < hawksley> AW C'MERE YOU GUYS
[22:31] * hawksley grouphug
[22:31] < MandaBear> <3
[22:31] < sms> STOP GROPING ME

( a walk through the past. )

one of the most pointed and interesting questions i was ever asked came from someone from an IRC channel of mine.

him: "no offense, but why haven't you committed suicide yet?"

i hate losing.

Current Mood: dirty

how do you explain to the other people who exist in you why they can't see their friend?

how do you break it to a kid that you fucked up and that's why she has to be so unhappy right now?

how do you tell the person who worked with him on his own problems that she can't help him right now, because he won't let any of us near him?

i'm sorry. i'm sorry i let you guys down, again.

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converse with absolute time

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there's no guarantees.

well, shit.

fear is the heart of love.

scene from march.

Measure me in metered lines, and one decisive stare.

bedtime stories.

flow.

from my window to yours.

i dreamt of a house, haunted by all you tweakers with your hands out.

a break.

leftovers

#legion is touchy feely.

rjm.

wishing to god that i was the one that died.

just three words my love: you meant everything.

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