Ho hum...

WARNING! The following post is unusually stream-of-consciousness. It rambles around and goes all over the place, don't expect it to make full sense or have any point other than as an outlet for my thoughts.


You have been warned.

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I've been feeling oddly expository over the last week or so. I've had this strange urge to sit down with my closest friends and explain to them the things that are happening in my life that much of me would rather keep secret. The things in my life that I feel I have no one that I can talk to about. There is only one person, outside of 2 authority figures, that knows my darkest secrets, and they are not as big of a part of my life as they were a month ago. I don't even think that there is anything specifically I want to talk about, but part of me just wants to make my secrets not secrets anymore so that I don't have to carry them as burdens, so I can be me and if people don't accept me for me because of those things, then fine; I'm used to being alone. I hate it, but I've been alone for most of my life, and until I knew what it was like to not be alone I didn't realize how much it sucked.

Upon reading a friend's blog entry today I realize how similar we are in personality. I thought it would be interesting to follow his lead and just go through some of my personality traits, just to see what they look like typed up.

I am intelligent, very intelligent; I earned a 1520 on the SAT, with a perfect math section; I graduated from BYU on a 4-year full-tuition scholarship; I taught myself how to program in 6th grade; I read books of every variety as often as possible. I am currently working on a Master's Degree.

With that intelligence came the oft accompanied diminished social skills. I had no friends in my classes between grades 5 and 9. During these years I had two friends, both in the grade below me. Perhaps only having these friends for reasons of convenience of living near each other, and they didn't see me in classes as the geek I was. I hated middle school. Everyday was a level of misery. My main goal in life during those days was to become invisible - if no one noticed me then they'd leave me alone. Lunch was the bane of my day. I needed to sit somewhere to eat, but I had no table at which I'd feel accepted, and there were not enough tables to allow me to sit by myself. In 7th grade one of the teachers allowed some of us to go down to his classroom and play chess during lunch. I enjoy chess, and I'm half-way decent at it, and there I was at least among other social outcasts and we could exist without debasing each other.
My freshman year of high school was not much different, except now there were a bunch of upperclassmen to bother me as well. I remember one occasion where a senior guy stood on my chest and demanded that I say some swear words before he'd stop. I didn't. He stopped. He was later reported to the administration by another senior who had witnessed part of the event. He mostly left me alone after that. I wrote some poetry during high school. Much of it was rather depressing. In fact I think some of it is still visible on songmeanings.net under the artist name Kokopelli.

I really enjoy reading. One thing I dislike most about the school year is that I don't have time to read. So I stock up books and then during the summer read as much as I can. I read mysteries, sci-fi, fantasy, military thrillers, philosophy, biographies, history, historical fiction, pretty much anything. Reading lets me escape from my boring life, for at least a few hours a day.

I hate the paradigm of casual dating. That is, dating many different people, and often, until entering an exclusive relationship. I can only devote my emotional-romantic attention to one person at a time. I don't ask girls out on dates to figure out if I like them -- I already like someone when I ask them out on a date. So I feel some attachment to this person even though they likely reciprocate no such feelings. It makes dating really hard for me. And, of course, I have to make sure my affections stay deeply concealed lest I come across too strongly and never get anywhere.

I don't like being the center of attention, as the above experiences of my childhood may suggest. I would much rather be involved, but to the side, mostly watching - picking and choosing the moments that I'd like to be noticed.

I enjoy shopping, if I feel like I can spend money without feeling guilty. In two weeks it will have been one year since I learned how to shop. I learned how to buy clothes properly. How to find clothes that fit my build, and make me look good. How to walk into those trendy stores in the mall and look at things and say to myself, that's a nice shirt, or that's hideous, and have that opinion agree with what most of the rest of the world thinks. How to walk into those stores and not feel horribly out of place and awkward. Last week I spent 2.5 hours in the Provo Towne Centre Mall shopping for something nice to wear to the Celtic Woman concert. By the end I was dog tired, but I had some good stuff, and I looked *ahem* hella-good.

I'm having a really hard time forgiving someone who wronged me a few months back. I am not friends with this person anymore. When I see them I try to avoid contact. When I think of them I think first of the things they did that hurt me and I have to struggle to think of the times we enjoyed together. I think I'm making progress in the matter though. Just recently this person was in a car accident, and I found myself genuinely concerned as to whether they were alright or not. But then that was followed by a bitter thought that they had deserved it. I had to fight those feelings out because I knew how terrible and juvenile they were. I'm glad that this person, though quite shaken up, was uninjured.

There is only one sport I really enjoy playing: Ultimate. I haven't had the chance to play in a long time now. I actually am pretty decent at Ultimate, but the Orem Ultimate group seems to have fallen apart since last year; so I don't have anyone to play with currently.

I enjoy romantic-comedies, also known as "chick-flicks". Don't get me wrong, I also enjoy action movies and I especially enjoy movies that make you think really hard about what's happening and what the movie means. But I also enjoy watching chick-flicks. Conveniently my two roommates also enjoy them, and, as odd as it sounds, we three have watched a fair number of them with no girls present. Each time we comment on how silly it is for three guys to be sitting around watching chick-flicks. We went and say "Bridge to Terabithia" last night at the dollar theater. There was one girl with us, but we quite probably would have gone whether she was going or not. It was a good movie. I read the book a long time ago in school. It's funny the things we remember. I remember that the book had a yellow cover, Leslie gave Jess pastels (in the movie it's paints), and I remember that Leslie died and that I cried a little when it happened. Other than those things I remember very few details from the actual book.

I enjoy drawing, but I am not at all any good at drawing. I have a sketch book that I used in middle school art class. I have drawn in it a few times since then.

I enjoy writing poetry. I think some of it is quite good, but I rarely let other people read it.

I get depressed because I get lonely. I sleep a billion times better when I have someone to hold; a large pillow is sometimes an acceptable substitute.

In that last 3 years I can only think of 1 time that I yelled in anger. I was surprised at myself while it was happening, because it felt so stupid.

In the last 3 years I have only been seriously angry at someone once, and it was a different occasion than when the yelling occurred.

In the last 3 years I have only been seriously disappointed in someone once, it is the same situation of which I wrote earlier where I need to forgive them, it is not the same situation that I was angry, nor is it the same situation as the yelling.

In the last 3 years I have changed a lot. I believe most of those changes have been for the better.

My greatest fear is that I will spend my life alone.

I'm nice, possibly too nice. And so far my experience (as well as the experiences of my roommates) has been that nice guys finish last.


Well, I think that's enough for now. You all now know much more about my life than you probably ever wanted to.