I wanna right about everything I don’t need to write about.
Things I do want to write about….
Things I should want to write about….
20 months, 20 months Barack Obama has been on the campaign trail. And for 20 of those months I have supported him over all others.
There are flaws, there are things I’d like to see him do, but I truly believe there is something about him, something so genuine that makes me believe in him. Something that stirs me to the point that I just swoon. I think McCain is a good man, I think either way the next 8 years will be better then the last.
My soul issue though, is that both McCain and Obama in my opinion caved to party politics in the all too crucial task of picking Vice President.
Joe Biden- I don’t find him to be a particularly evil man, nor do I think he has any great character flaw that should negate him from that honor.
Sarah Palin- As I said early, I really think McCain is a good man with good intentions, but Sarah Palin frightens me.
So much so she gets her on paragraph. Sarah Palin is all things wrong with GOP (Republican Party) FAITH based policy. The separation of church and state should have killed this. Instead we have this nutcase who doesn’t believe that evolution isn’t real or that global warming is a myth.
I really could go on and on about my issues with her, but it would all circle around a few things
There has been one post on here that I think about more often then the other posts. The one that has always resonated with me was the one about my Grandpa. That one post has been the highlight of this little literary experiment.
That whole story started off as simply an explanation to Jesse about blood donation. My Grandpa died of blood cancer, and I remember one of the treatments was that he would have blood transfusions from donor blood and that for a few weeks he would be back to his old self.
That is why I donate blood, its really that simple so that I can hopefully provide somebody more time with a loved one. I don’t care if that sounds cheesy, I mean that. Hell giving blood (for me at least) is an awful awful experience, last time I did it I passed out.
I showed that post to my Mom a while back and earlier tonight I showed it to my Dad. As of right now my dad has actually yet to read it, but I clearly remember what my mom said. She said I should show it to my dad and that it had made her cry a little.
Spring Break of my Sophomore year, I went to Boston for a snowboarding contest. The contest in itself was a great honor and I was all but gitty to go. It was by far the worst week of my life, I felt every blanket of snow that fell was one more thing that isolated me from my friends and loved ones.
The one thing I did in attempt to keep my sanity for the trip was go on long walks and think. As simple and cliche as it seems it really did keep me going through those days. I would go back to my hotel room and scribble in this little notebook i had bought that had a little picture of Cambridge on it.
so its been like way too long since i played on this thing
then i was working on college applications
and i got overwhelmed and scared and ran off to the comfort of my thoughts and scrubs
think im running off soon to go see Express with Jesse and Carlye
more to come later this evening though
It’s a fucking shameful thing. It’s a fucking shameful thing that for days I can’t think of a paragraph to put on this damn thing, but in the course of twenty minutes I feel I could write an epic.
I never really enjoy talking about the matter and not until recently did I ever disclose the fact to anybody. For as long as I can remember I’ve admired somebody not because they were wealthy or successful or because I was related to him. I think more simply I connected with him and he was the first person I ever saw who I think truly was a complete person. He didn’t desire anything and he was happy with his life.
It was my Grandpa.
He was my dad’s dad, and from the time of my birth he was just “Papa Russ”. I can’t think of a major child memory I have that he isn’t involved in. He really was the best he is one of the reasons I think I have any form of writing ability, he was so well spoken and taught me phrases like “the bee’s knee’s”. Anyways he died when I was about in the 3rd grade at the time I didn’t realize the profound impact he’d had on me and who I’d be.
I’m not really the superstitious type, anyone who knows me I discredit all forms of paranormal activity. It was the strangest thing though, my parents had found out about his death very late one night and I was fast asleep. For some reason I woke up and went to my parents room crying in terror from a nightmare I’d had. My mom simply stared at me and said we would be leaving for Long Island first thing in the morning. I was furious, here I was petrified and innocent and my mother was simply shrugging me off. I looked to my dad for comfort and saw deep lines under his red eyes. His age was finally catching him and it showed in his face.
I remember his funeral vividly, stupid traditions dictated that we have an open casket for him. Wakes are somthing no child should be exposed to. No child should be shown death in that light.
I remeber that it was the first time I ever saw my sister crying, I rember thinking that I wouldn’t cry because I didn’t want to be seen as childish.
Throughout the whole wake I refused to go to the casket, I’d like to believe I didn’t want to go because I wasn’t prepared to say good bye but even at that you age I knew it was because this was where we go. In a box to be tucked away.
I don’t think I’ve honestly ever believed there was anything beyond this life I worry people use a life after this as a crutch to not be. I belive scientifically our bodies can go onto create new life , but I don’t believe what makes us us is carried on in that process.
I think a lot about my Grandpa now when I’m faced with problems, not really thinking what he would do, more thinking of him looking over me and just watching to see what I’ve become. Not in some dark catholic judgemental way more of just a curious on looker.
But he’s not there
he’s gone
he’s somewhere
I try not to drone on and on about Jesse in here. Just cause I can’t imagine anybody caring my thoughts about her.
The thing is though this is my thoughts whom ever reads this reads it for my thoughts. My girlfriend is a major part of my thoughts. I know in the past few days I’ve made my life a juggling act and taken on more then I could handle, I’ve been losing sleep and letting my thoughts get the better of me.
I think one day they’ll find out that I was the living Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
How Jess ties into all of this is her power over me, her ability to keep me at bay away from neurotic ocean that is my thoughts.
She deserved a thank you for everything she does in the name of my sanity.
During the summer it’s really easy for me to scribble something out in this. Cause it’s really rare for me to say I shouldn’t be doing this and that I should be doing something else.
Tonight… this morning I actually have the pleasure of saying that. Mainly because its about 3:40 in the morning and I should be asleep.
Those words “It doesn’t get much better” someday I’d like that put on my tombstone. I’ve never really heard the phrase used in a genuine manner, only time I can really recall anyone saying it was my sister after our parents split up and we were headed to our 2nd Christmas. I believe she said it to maybe brighten the mood or to cheer me up, all it really seemed to do was expose the irony of the statement
The other day I was talking to Raja about of all things Superhero’s. And though I didn’t realize it at the time. Besides making both of us look like complete nerds it was a huge metaphor for how we see people or how we wish to see people.
We got into it fairly simply Raja saying Batman was the best and me arguing that Superman was far and wide the best hero ever.
Upon closer examination of this, I realized what this said about Raja and I as people.
Batman- Batman is a hero not really a hero by choice rather by reluctance, he is the more cynical side of man that doesn’t act until his parents are murdered right in front of him.
Superman- Superman is a flashback to a more naive and innocent era. Superman helped people because it was the right thing to do, not because anyone was murdered.
I dunno what it exactly means, other then that maybe I am naive and long for the days of people being caring to one another.
“It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”
This is a fairly stupid posting. The only reason I believe it suffices is because of the time and what I’m currently weighing in my mind
I’ve never been one to condone suicide pacts, but today I witnessed one.
My Phone and Car entered a “suicide pact” of sorts
I guess it’s not much of a suicide pact if my car is now up and running and my phone is sitting on the charger next to me.
