kazatasupa

I'm losing my white-trash desk to chaos and entropy. It's an interesting phenomenon, and my head is just spaced-out and tired enough to think that art is actually trying to express itself through my things. I feel special.

I still want to cry when I think about it. It's strange for me, because I've never been emotional. I told my pops that this somehow feels healthy, like I've finally learned to mourn. I told him not to worry about me, because I know I am handling this the right way...

I gained some valuable insight into who my father is last night. I love it when he is honestly open and emotionally available to me. For most of my life I denied myself the right to feel that I belonged in any relationship, including that of a son. I fight that now... it's a terrible way to feel about yourself. It's disabling to feel that you are not capable of being loved.

It took me 25 years to appreciate who I am. I have had to teach myself to love me. I am just learning to let others love me as well.

I am thankful for my family, particularly my brother. I could never properly express my gratitude and love for him... but he should know. I think he is absolute and pure and amazing and beautiful. I also think he can be an asshole sometimes... but, I wouldn't have him any other way.

Life is worth celebrating.

I was up late last night, writing e-mails and watching the snow fall... thinking too. I wasn't really prepared to have my pop wake me at six thirty this morning with, "you still want to go work out? If not, I'll let you sleep in." Arggg... I laid there for a moment, trying to decide if I wanted to get up or not... I guess I felt the need to work out and to see all the old men moving muscles. I forgot how small this town is. "All the old guys," my dad talks about equal about 2 and 1/2 people. So, I stepped on the lone, creepy stairmaster for 45 minutes. It was fun. One of the "old men" was Ron Schmidt... the first CHP officer to let me off for speeding without a ticket! I was eighteen at the time, he made me go tell my mother that I was a terrible driver. A couple of hours later he stopped by the cable office (where my mother was the manager) to make sure I had done as he said. I like small town people. I miss this place.

I'm going to the local library with my pops in a half hour. I need to see if there are any books on philosophy... Damn school, damn!!! I'd also like to look at the local history collection. I want to get to the bottom of the Samuel Burney myth... More on that later (if I have a chance). I also want to find some information on early historical places... may go up to the Fall River museum this week too.

Tomorrow I get to see my brother for the first time since last winter break.