twenty-five years ago today my grandfather passed away. Tonight there will be a quiet mass at St. Victors and it will be dedicated to him. I'm going because I love my grandmother and she will like to see me there... I never knew him, though I do have a picture of me as a child at my first birthday. He had given me a cigar to chew on and there I sit in my grandmothers back yard slobbering all over it. I like that image, its a good lasting memory of a man I never met (I say never because I don't remember him at all)... I have to think he wouldn't of liked me much as he was very conservative, but who knows there have been odder couples.
I wonder what my mother thinks, I doubt I'll ask her... I've always intended to record some conversations with my grandmother. When I do we'll eventually get to him. I know they met in D.C. and were married within 6 months, that she loved/s him, that he was stern, but fair, and that they enjoyed cards and nature.
25 years is a long time to be sitting alone in heaven, I wonder if he won't be the most lonely tonight... I'll have to ask him that when I get up there, though I have to assume he's watching me type this right now and that all I'd have to do is say a prayer and I'd know... I'll ask later...

I've got to give a monday morning shout out to my mother. Later this afternoon she will be paying off my last two credit cards and accepting my promise to pay her back the 15 grand I owe her (and they call me a gambling man). In doing this she is helping me lay the groundwork for a fairly secure financial future. It's not like I have car payments or house payments, maybe a few bookie payments, but even that is going good right now. I have won over 600$ in the last three weeks... nice, real nice. I love indy, philly, and overs...
Plus I am picking up a ton of work right now. I mean close to 60 hours a week, maybe more soon... I like it, I love it; it keeps me honest...

Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth...

I love when the pills kick in. Just sitting around with my friends, playing cards, listening to some music... I worked fifty some hours this week, I'll hit that again next week. Just doing the work thing. I like my jobs. like weber's love subbing... love going to be a teacher. love it. I can't believe I almost felt otherwise, almost. but never really... really it all comes down to a talk with my uncle tim on my way to the uofm msu game. I was laying it out and trying to express a reason for giving up a dream and he just said that teaching is noble. sometimes, he said, he thinks he should quit his job and become a teacher... and two seconds later I remembered what I was trying to forget: being a teacher is all I really want: I want to make the world better for as many children as I can.

wild cat did growl...
two riders approaching...
awesome. I love music. I am so fucking high... I can't believe I am writing like this... I love it. love it, love you...

more of the same
more of the same
I'm going to start tomorrow
I'm going to start today
# posted by Roman Nose @ 5:48 AM

- I miss roman nose... sometimes I think about going back to the sun page... we'll see.

there is a big sissy in me that wants to tackle every kid that walks in here who can't read or write with the biggest hug and then teach them until they can... a real big sissy...

The secret to life is maintaing the balace between our inner and outer selves. The outer self being defined as our appearance and how people recieve us (all takes and perspectives, wherein their perception of us is more definite of our character, that is the out self's character). The inner self being defined as our aspirations, goals, and inspirations combating our fears, reason, and reluctance. (the inner self also would seem to have a variety of personalities/default modes/directions, but that is another post for another time).
Balance, I am pretty sure, is impossible. If we are introverted we will naturally pay more attention to our inner selves and inherently ignore the oppinions of others. If we are extroverted then the opposite would be true. (it is important to note that by introvert and extrovert I am not referring exactly to the psychological (sp?) definitions of people as introverted or extroverted. That is because I can imagine an introvert who cares only about what other people think and vice versa. I mean to say more that a persons definition of self and/or control of self is being driven by the public or by themselves)
I am also sure that noone is always to act in the interest of either the self or the public, its going to be a little bit of both. I would only argue in terms of percentage. For example, I tend to think more of my own self's perception of who I am. I also tend to not care so much what other people think. We'll say a 60/40 split, which is somewhat severe in my opinion. However, if I am giving a presentation or whatever I am sure the split may go as far as 30/70 or higher, depending on my confidence in the manner...
and here we enter the role of confidence, and inherently comfortability, but again I'll blue-ball you all and avoid that extension for another day...

now defined I would like to say again that the secret of life is maintaining that balance between inner and outer self; sometimes in searching to appease one side or the other we are going to offend the other half. It is only natural, the war of self has been argued for years in poetry, prose, philosophy, and all other worthwhile endeavors. Yet, I still find it of note and would like to define the aforementioned war as not a personal matter, in that it takes place within the self, but rather as a communicative matter: how we see our selves in the lives we live.

make sense?

Nick and I were talking today about the government... down in the basement mixin' up the medicine... and his point was that since the war on drugs began the federal government has grown almost exponentially in power and control over our lives. He has a good point.
It was my observation that this countries voters can basically be broke into two halves: those who do drug and those who don't, or rather those who understand drug use and those who do not. I've come to the conclusion that the reason things are the way they are is because the majority of people don't do drugs, and therefore break the law, and therefore have no problem condemning those who would break the law...
Think of all the crimes you could commit. how many sound reasonable outside of drug use? none.

well, nick says I am a pussy about all this... maybe he's right. Maybe I shouldn't write here and I shouldn't try to make anything of my writing. but is this really my writin? not really... its a forum to talk about my life. I put out the info and no one writes back, so what's the point really? writing here is like talking to my wall. I might as well write in my book or talk to my wall...

but really fuck it. I am just trying to make something of my thoughts and this is just another forum... but it never really works... but but but, but you never write back, never... so what's the point?
try try try tyr try try try try try try... I'll try to try... I will hold the candle till it burns of my arm... is that all I am doing here? maybe.

I think I'll take some time and consider all the alternatives...

that last post will be the end of my 'personal post'; I'm done examining my self for a little while - especially in front of you all. Basically, any time that we want to find something wrong we can and I am overly critical as it is...
this will be the begining of my musing/words of wisdom/pedagogy/random posts (and hopefully the future of this page)... we'll start simply enough:

last night at the Megadeth (yes they are still alive) concert I reallized that the mosh pit symbolizes life in that you can only get hurt when you stop going forward. you've got to walk out that door everyday with pantera on your mind and mosh through the pit of life as if 'walk' were playing constantly...
I realized that and then they threw us out for moshing. how lame. they threw a chick out for showing her tits! how can we live in a world where chicks can't show their tits at rock concerts? stupid Bush, he's taking our tits away!

sitting here playing along with 'billy breathes', its been a day of soothing exercises... ate lunch with my grandmother, lost a few rounds of cribbage to her. I came home ready to get going with my schoolwork, but I'm not quite ready; it all feels so futile when I don't even know if I am going to be able to teach english...
to bring you all up to date, the woman who teaches my methods (spanish) class is opposed to me switching majors to student teach in english and unfortunately I can't take the english methods class without her approval. I know she fears that I am just trying to get around her, but I can't help but think that she is the one who taught me that I can't teach spanish. I believe her so I'm trying to go on my way and salvage what career I may. I don't want to teach english, I want to teach spanish, but if I must I will... and now she is preventing me from doing just that...
Went to court today, nothing exciting. I just sat in the back reading 'the unbearable lightness of being' and contemplating all that is heavy or light... the only real revelations were that when the cops come out you are on your own. All friends fail in the courtroom, or rather all friends limits are seen (but we already knew that)... I couldn't help but think back to when Jared sat in a room just like mine and took the blame for everything we did. People may wonder why I see him on par with greene, nick et. al. but all he had to do was say my name... and he never did. would I have done the same for him? Would most of my other friends. no. Too much to lose, that's why we all walk away when the cops come... in the eyes of the law we are all seen as we are (who needs the doors of perception when you've got the boys in blue?)... its kinda sad really... and all the people with lawyers go first. its disgusting to watch the money rule the room. I may just hate lawyers more than cops; at least some cops are trying to good while all lawyers are in it for the money... I should say trial lawyers or at least that rare breed that has chosen the DUI as their bread money...
my mother is covering my credit cards. God bless her, it'll be over fifteen grand that I owe her... I've got to get a job, a real job. but then we're back to Mrs. Nerenz and her obsession with 'helping' me... I am so broke. I don't even want to get into my school loans that are now up again and I can't defer them without being enrolled in class... and I can't enroll until Nerenz lets me move on with my life... that woman in the anchor I've wrapped around my neck...
the worst mistake I ever made was going to EMU.... this is nowhere. Nowhere, I tell you. There is no up, no down, no left, and no right, only right here/right now... "Whoa, sing softly..." sings my radio... nowhere, I am nowhere and thats just that. I thought I'd make it out, I thought I had a plan but even that falls apart under the previous poor decisions that own me. Anne Nerenz is the bain of my existence: she is the symbol for every corner I ever cut, every smirk I ever shared...

Tengo sueno friends...
tengo sueno
and it ain't going to go away
I get tired,
I get stressed
My thoughts
are too slow to realize the potential
and far to quick to anger....
maybe god should of never given us such great minds,
I keep getting caught up in the what-ifs I'd never comprehend if I were a cow or a pig... or even a lesser man.
I write to much
I explore my pain
and I forget all the good
searching for the significance
hidden in the weight of life

Books, pens, and pages are killers (my friends)
nothing worse than a blank page ready to be explored, cut up or created upon
nothing worse than having to fix the problems, ignore the obvious, and
delve into the depths of what really makes you tick.

I've got to stop writing, all the time I want to rehash and replay.

all I need is time...
time to get away from the mistakes I've made
time to get going on my new plans
time to put it all in perspective...
this is nowhere is all I need to know
and after a little time I'll be alright...
just like wilson says "pase lo que pase"
pase lo que pase
voy a ser feliz
pase lo que pase
I can only be me

pase lo que pase
voy a ver la verdad
(porque todo esta bien)
pase lo que pase
voy a ser feliz
porque pase lo que pase
I can only be me
and I am alright, its just the superfolous that keeps me down...
and I am alright, pase lo que pase I am alright...

(say that ten times and maybe I will be alright... its funny how this semester has moved from paso a paso to pase lo que pase, maybe next year I can build again...)

billy breathes is still on repeat, I think its a good way to pass the day... strumming and soothing my mind. As serious as this all is, as fucked as I really am, I need to remember, and remind you all, that I am content in a million other manners...

Softly sing sweet songs
Softly sing sweet songs
Softly sing sweet songs
Ooooh ooooh

I passed both my certification test...

"Good luck with that whole teaching thing; it sure doesn't sound to me like you care very much about helping people. oh, and you're right, you do suck at both Spanish and Methods" - the future for ecuador

come to think of it, the most insightful comment (and probably any post) comes from some dumb bitch who couldn't tak a joke and was trying to hurt my feelings...

and you fuckers still don't comment on anything I write here... maybe this is just a waste of time...

you know, you ever wonder when its time to stop fucking up and just change everything? I don't know, sometimes I just feel like up and walking out the door, dropping everything, and getting on with my life. I feel like leaving, I feel like forgetting all about htis bullshit. I wonder if I'll ever go anywhere if I don't run out that door.
It's like I am at the wrong starting point, or worse yet its not even a starting point. It's a fucking truck stop just outside of the junction... Its a way of life, I pick it up, I get some shit together, then I get lazy and I fall back into another rutine. I mean, I graduated four fucking years ago, from the university of fucking michigan... and now I'm living in my friends spare room withdrawing from classes and getting into fights.

All of this, its a trap. Its a comfort, a crutch and nothing more. Its a way to feel happy. a way to feel connected to life or whatever bullshit I hold holy...

don't be surprised one day when I am gone. When I move to mexico, or wherever, or when I just stop returning phone calls and drop this social life of mine. thats what kills me you know? its not anything other than the fact that I would rather hang out, watch a movie, go to a football game, talk shit, drink, sleep in, take pills, just plain talk, anything rather than cut the shit, finish my classes, and get a job.

Maybe I am afraid of something? maybe I just don't want to grow up or maybe I am just afraid that I might actually become something... or maybe I am just the laziest fucking person I know...

you know what's interesting to me: as evil as Bush is he doesn't seem racist in the least bit... specifically there is Gonzalez as AG but generally speaking he seems to love money so much that he just picks the best man for the job...

In other political news if Arafat is indeed dead I will be shedding no tears tonight...

a word to the wise: if you stay at your grandmother's for a few weeks (say, last summer) and you happen to throw a porn mag under your bed, make sure you remember to take it with you. OR you may end up having to explain to your grandmother why she found a playboy in the bed room last week... Now that is a tough situation...
what's worse is trying to tell her that i has good articles...
either that or your grandmother asking your mother why you left it there...

I don't know where I am going with my life, but I do know that I watched Pat throw a cheesestick off some passed out drunk dude at white castle tonight... I saw it and I fell over laughing...
what ever happened to picking on the failures?

I really don't want to sound like an asshole, but it was really really funny and probably cost me a few years in pergatory...

failure failure failure whine whine whine what a bunch of crap! I can't believe what a sissy I sound like sometimes. you know what, fuck all the dumbshit. life is that simple. If anyone spites you, fuck them. and nothign more, nothing to whine about and cry blah blah blah... I am doing fine and school will work itself out...
geez you'd think I was an eighteen year old girl...

"Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour."

When comes down to it nothing gold can stay; thats just how it works. I have seen nothing to the contrary and hold little faith that such a truth may change... this being the one fundamental truth (or at least one of the more prominant) leads to my fundamental truth that good writing is driven not by pain and anguish but by the struggle to make great things last. Plain and simple. So, why would I write about what is right when I would rather choose to explore the comings and going, the failures, and the almost were's of our life?

It has been brought to my attention by Shannon and Dan that this page appears a little pessimistic at times, but the truth of the matter is that I use writing to fix problems: to assess life's situations and to repair or at least understand whatever it is that may cause problems in my life. Now why the fuck would I write about what is right?
I think we need some sort of understanding that most of what goes here is a rant or a rave driven by the emotions of the minute, and more importantly the angry emotions of a minute. It's just a place to spout off at the mouth... some people have even gone so far as label me anally expulsive (I don't know why), if such a thing were then my only defense would be that once I've bitched and whined I usually let most things go. and again we are back to why I write here... to let go... to let go to my friends and hopefully recieve some feedback (you fuckers here that, feedback!) so lets read and lets comment but lets never forget that I love my life, I get up happy every day, and I go to bed comfortable every night, I'm just not going to write about it here. how gay would I sound if I posted: talked to dan sunday, watched football, remembered why we're such good friends, I sure like him... that would just be crap. happiness is crap in the world of writing (cause if you're happy why you writing? and not living that is?)
if that makes any sense
love,
jdon

last night I had a crazy dream that half this country had lost their fucking minds and decided to vote for bush... then I woke up and realized that we're fucked.

"Fuck smiley glad-hands

With hidden agendas."

Well its election day... I filled out the ballot with ease (having studied up last night) and then I just stared at the presidential boxes. I so didn't want to vote for kerry. God I wanted to vote greene and yet I gave in to the big lie that if we don't vote for kerry we will get stuck with four more years of asshole bush... I gave in and elected a man with no spine. I kinda feel sick now... just like four years ago when both choices were shit... just like four years before that and four years from now...
you know, how can we change this shit if we keep ignoring the other parties?

crazy dream last night: my self, leblanc, and my brothers are running through some sort of mall with guns, being chased or killing some type of others. We get through and then I have like the same dream again, however I know it is just a repeat dream and this time I have a different gun. We go to enter the mall again and I see rows upon rows of rice crispies (all types of varieties) sitting on a ledge and just begin to eat them knowing full well that we are being chased but it doesn't really matter becasue it is a repeat dream. Of course things change the second time around as leblanc gets pissed at me and I decide to just keep going along asking if my friends think that it was ok that I ate the random rice crispies...

figure that one out and I'll give you a dollar?

On Dropping Out:
You can place another failure Amidst the "you can't fire me because I quit" vein; its not like I was going to pass anyway... and maybe I am a little sad because I didn't have the heart to make up for my inefficiencies but I am relieved to have a load of expectations off my back: sometimes failure is an option. What's it that Leblanc always says "no matter how many miles you've gone down the wrong road..." and that is how i feel. I knew class with anne would be a bitch, hell I knew I would fail, remember that one bitch chewing me out on here?. Well, here I am a bona fide failure - I've got papers and everything.
Fortunately I've been here before and I know that this is not my end or at least "what we call an end is often a begining". Now I have time to take care of my deficiencies and prepare to reenroll (somewhere, not EMU) and to become a teacher.
I know i have it in me to become a great teacher, a world changing teacher, but I also know that I have not come even close to maximizing my potential, truly I might not even know how to maximize my potential... but I will.

and greene says I am too angry here. well, I think we all need to remember that this is where I rant more often than I rave. If I was happy why the hell would I write?