The Third Journal
The Third Journal of Kem
11:53 Saturday, 04 September 2004
I’ve been in Frankfurt for over 5 days now, and I’m really beginning to get settled in. After the ride over, during which I took acid and made the most intense experience possible out of the transition, Julia picked me up at the airport and kept me on my feet through the day and until the next when I could move into my dorm. After that I met David and Justin, the other two American students from The College of New Jersey who are studying here with me.
For the next two days we ran around Frankfurt taking care of all sorts of business with the school, the bank, the phone company, and the International Registry Office. In the evenings we would shop for our necessities and eat at restaurants, drinking the fine German beer. On the second night of my stay here, right before I entered my room for the night, a girl caught me and introduced herself as Charlotta. A very attractive German girl (whom I have no interest in), she conversed with me in both English and German and showed me the kitchen, where I met a few other of the students from my floor. There’s Luana from Italy who used to live in my room and is a bit ugly and introverted but good-natured. A couple of guys whom I don’t remember the names of, one from Germany and one from Romania. And another attractive German girl (whom I have no interest in) named Marie, who has the most perfect teeth I’ve ever seen and wants to be a dentist. They conversed with me for awhile but we quickly ran out of things to say to each other. I simply don’t know enough German yet to be interesting. Hopefully in a few months I’ll be able to carry on a philosophical conversation in German, where right now all I can do is talk about school and my hobbies. Boring 1st-grade level stuff.
Throughout the week I tried hard not to think about the girl I left behind in the states. Jessi (whom I am very interested in) is the girl I’m currently in Love with, and most likely will remain so for the duration of my stay here. In keeping with tradition, she’s completely out of reach and I have no chance with her. But not because she’s afraid of me like the previous two girls I’ve Loved; she’s out of reach because she’s only 14 years old and I’m 20. We are separated by light years of mental and emotional development, and any sort of “relationship” would both be condemned by the moral inclinations of the majority of modern humanity and completely hopeless to last.
However, my Love for Jessi is the most rewarding and least Hopeless of any previous Love interest I’ve ever had, which was confirmed yesterday by an unexpected e-mail from her in response to an e-mail I sent after seeing her at work for the last time and before leaving for Germany. I revealed to her the Love I’d been keeping secret for 7 and a half months and told her if she thought she could still be friends to call me before I left. When this didn’t happen I assumed I would never hear from her again and it was up to me to forget about her and somehow maintain my conviction that life isn’t completely Hopeless. I had all but given up on that when I read the e-mail from her, and my world was turned upside down.
Now I’m armed with loads of Hope. My life, which I have decided to completely devote to the spreading of existentialist ideals and Love in human consciousness (through writing and teaching) now seems as though it is not completely against me. I have never had sex or a real relationship because I’ve always been faithful to Love, and I don’t plan on giving that up any time soon, or ever. I will never have sex or a relationship with anyone unless I Love them. Which means that I will most likely never engage in sexual activity or have a relationship. But if I can do this and still be a happy, successful person, then my story should be one of a complete affirmation of life. And above all else I would like to leave this world believing that no matter what else is out there, what reality exists behind this one, it’s been worth it. Even without the most basic human pleasure, even without ever being Loved, I can be full of Love and happy about life. If that’s possible then hopefully I can inspire others who believe that life is worthless without love (as I used to believe and nearly killed myself because of it) to rethink their convictions.
Hopefully this experience in Frankfurt will help me grow even more and build up more of the necessary faith in myself that it will take to accomplish what I have in mind. I may never succeed, but it’s the attempt that matters. Even if I do manage to change the world for the better, it’s no guarantee that I day after I die someone else will come along to change the world for the worse.
But my concern is only with my life, the world that I live in and the impact I make on it. We all make an impact on the world, some make a greater one than others. But some people increase suffering and destroy love, while others spread love and lessen suffering. I’d like to be placed in that latter category, not because I believe it is the fundamentally right thing to do (there is no objective, universal “right” or “wrong”) but simply because it’s what I choose to do. The decision to spread love or hate does not come after rational thoughts, weighing the pros and cons and whatnot. It’s a purely emotional decision; all the rational justifications come afterwards. Depending on the circumstances of any person’s life, they may choose either road and follow it, and we can’t use reason or logic to convince them otherwise. I don’t like that there are humans out there bent on death and destruction, who believe that the natural state of humanity is a war of all against all and it’s up to them to take whatever they can, but I respect their outlook and understand why they see things that way. But I believe that it’s up to humanity to define the essence of humanity, and if we can somehow come together we can achieve things beyond any of our wildest dreams. I’m not hopeful enough to suggest that this can be accomplished within our lifetime, in face I fear that the only way such a massive, worldwide decision to value Love above all else may not come until after a massive global tragedy. And even then there’s no guarantee that such a decision would last.
But all of that is beside the point. Life is not about accomplishing the goal and maintaining it, but about eternally reaching and striving towards that goal. Just as I will never find someone who can Love me as I Love them, yet will continue to reach and strive for that very thing, growing more and more with each failure.
But right now I’m not ready to turn my focus completely away from myself and onto the world as a whole. My Love for Jessi has given me the will to change the world, but I still need to grow a lot more before I can make myself the kind of person who has the strength and ability to change the world. This can be done however, as long as I never stop believing it can be done.
So armed with the peace of mind that the girl I Love is out there and she cares about me, and the belief that I have a lot to offer the world, I’ll continue down this road to the future. I’ll never reach the end, but I’m going to make sure I respect every decision I make along the way.
2:08 Tuesday, 07 September 2004
I just had the most intense, most frightening, most incredible nightmare I’ve ever had in my life. I’m very very tired but not anxious to get back to sleep. And I must record this experience, because it ranks #1 of all time for intense dreams.
It began in the woods in the middle of the night. I was sitting on a rock, smoking and listing to music from my laptop, having a great time. I was tripping on mushrooms I think, but I couldn’t remember how I got there or how I would get to sleep. It bothered me that I couldn’t remember but I figured the mushrooms would explain it.
I put the laptop in the car and was about to lie down to go to sleep when another car pulled up and I realised I wasn’t in the middle of the woods but on the side of a road in a housing development. The guy in the car pulled into his house and then came out to see me and I thought I was in trouble. He said that it was okay, he wasn’t going to call the cops, but I had to wait there for about ten or fifteen minutes.
I waited in the car while he went inside the house and I heard a loud commotion like he was fighting with his wife and they were throwing pots and pans at each other. After what seemed like more than ten minutes I decided it was best to get out of there, but I didn’t want to start the car and alert the man in the house. But I knew my house wasn’t too far away so I got out of the car and tried pushing it home.
I succeeded in pushing it easily, but I couldn’t push it in the right direction, and it kept sliding down hills. I felt like I was tripping really hard, but I also began to suspect that I might be asleep. “Excellent, a lucid dream,” I thought.
So with a slight bending of the dream will I got back home. But everything was different. It was daytime and I was walking around, and when I went to the bathroom everything was flashing colours, and my image in the mirror was greatly distorted, my size was pulsating up and down and I thought I must be having the most intense mushroom flashback of my life.
But I was tripping too hard for even my taste, so I decided to test if I was dreaming and wake up. I woke up and was in Frankfurt in the morning. Looking at my clock I saw that it was past 8:00 which I thought was strange because my alarm was supposed to go off at 7:40 and it had never failed to go off yet. I reached for the volume switch and turned it up a bit, and it was in fact on. So I thought I was awake.
But then bad things started happening. My dorm room became more like my house at home, and outside the door was a tiny little baby, more like a fetus, but I could tell it was evil. It was trying to make me do evil things. So I grabbed a fork or something and started stabbing at it, trying to kill it but it wouldn’t die.
Again I realised I was still asleep and now I began to get concerned. I woke up again and was back at my home in New Jersey, but I wasn’t convinced that I had really woken up. I was still dreaming and I knew it. But now I had very little control over my own body. Stumbling around the house I searched for something which could wake me up, but every time I did I was right back in the same bed, not really awake.
I began to wake up amidst people, like it was in a class or something, and I kept asking people if I was awake and they would look at me with an evil smile and tell me I wasn’t. I kept saying that I wanted to wake up but I couldn’t. Each time I did it would be amidst more people, all looking at me with Satan behind their eyes. I began to get really scared, like perhaps I had died and gone to hell, and this was eternity. I started wondering when, if ever, I would get to the point where I would be able to accept that from this dream there was no waking.
Finally I woke up back at my house in New Jersey again, but I knew I hadn’t really woken up. And now I could hardly move at all. I couldn’t even shout for help. I tried shouting. I tried calling for my Dad who was awake and walking around outside my room. I yelled, “Wake me up. Dad, please wake me up!” but all that came out was a mumbling whimper.
I continued whimpering and trying to forced the words until my dad came in and touched my hand but he wasn’t waking me up. He was telling me I was awake and I had to get up. I got up and somehow ended up back at the dorm in Frankfurt, completely hopeless, trying to find something that could bring me out of this nightmare and back into the real world but I couldn’t.
Then I saw a Romanian gymnast walking down the hall, and I whispered, “ein Olympischen” whatever that means. But before I was done whispering, I woke up and heard myself say it. I was back in bed, here in my room in Frankfurt, awake.
Of course I wasn’t quite sure that I was awake. I had to touch the wall and talk and get up and splash water on my face. I could hear voices down the hall and saw that it was only 2:00 a.m. which boggled my mind because I hadn’t gotten to sleep until 1:00. The dream seemed like it had been going on for days and days.
I went out and smoked a cigarette and came back and wrote this, and now I have to go back to sleep. What it all means I have no idea nor the will to figure it out right now. But I knew I had to write it down because it seemed terribly, horribly important. That beats the shit out of the other dream I had of that kind. I couldn’t believe how horrible it was. I’m still shaking from it. It’s got to be one of, if not the most, intense experiences of my life. Certainly the most intense experience of my dreams.
Now I’m going to go back to sleep (if I can) and hopefully, God willing, my alarm clock will wake me up at the right time.
11:54 Wednesday, 08 September 2004
Well, I’ve been in Germany for over a week and so far I feel very unproductive. I don’t think I’ve learned any more German than I knew before I got here. I haven’t done anything philosophical, or even met anyone interested in philosophy. Sure, I’ve taken care of almost all of the bullshit things I needed to do to get settled in, and I’ve gone to my first two intensive German classes, but I feel like I’m going nowhere.
Perhaps it’s too soon. I still don’t even have the internet or a phone line yet. I was supposed to get those things this afternoon, but whoever was supposed to come and do it dropped a note off in my mailbox telling me to change the appointment. So instead of this afternoon it should be done tomorrow morning. Once I’ve got a phone and the internet, I should be more well equipped to start getting things done. Plus I’ll be able to finally communicate with Jessi again. I’m dying of anticipation to finally talk to her on-line and have a real conversation now that she knows how I feel about her and everything can be out in the open.
I’ve met quite a few people. A bunch of Germans from my floor and a few other Americans who live in these dorms. The Germans from my floor are loud party-people, which is cool except for when they wake me up at 1:30 in the morning blasting the Backstreet Boys and singing along in German accents as loud as possible. Oh yeah, and stealing the beer that I bought last night and put in the refrigerator. Other than that, they’re a nice bunch and hopefully I’ll pick up this silly language and eventually be able to communicate with them.
After my crazy dream the other night, (no doubt inspired by Waking Life) I’ve taken more notice of the dreams I’ve been having. It’s easier to remember my dreams now that I’m not constantly smoking weed. I had a dream where I was talking to an army general driving a truck about George W. Bush. He said that he didn’t want to hear anything bad about Bush; that he was a great man because he carried on the legacy of his father and finished the job that he started. And if he had to kill a few babies in the process it didn’t matter. I got so mad…I wanted to find an Iraqi woman who’d lost her children to Bush’s pointless war and make him say the same thing to her, but all I could do was take a crow-bar and start smashing his truck. And now while I’m awake I look at the latest poll number and find Bush with a comfortable lead, and it pisses me off to no end. If Bush wins this election, which he probably will because Kerry is a douche-bag, I’ll have officially lost faith in the American people and the system of so-called “democracy” we have. Apparently now 52% of the people don’t think it was a mistake to go into Iraq. Meanwhile, we’ve now got over 1,000 of our own soldiers dead over this completely pointless cause. The Iraqis are no better off now than they were under Saddam, it’s obvious they want nothing to do with our government and our soldiers, and they’re just going to keep killing us until we finally leave. We’ll have to have a few more presidential elections before anyone starts talking about withdrawing troops, and then hopefully we’ll realise our mistake. I thought we learned our lesson with Vietnam, but apparently our elected officials haven’t gotten any smarter. It’s just a shame that so many more people are inevitably going to have to die before we finally realise that all this has been in vain. But at least Saddam is gone, and therefore I’m a lot safer now than I was a year ago (sarcasm intended).
Anyway, speaking of weed, I’m starting to miss it a lot. I haven’t had the guts to ask anyone around here if they know where I can find some, but hopefully I’ll be able to do it soon. I don’t want to go back to the way I was with weed, but it would be nice to have a joint every few nights and really enjoy my music again.
So these are the things that I’ve been thinking of. It’s not that I’m not having a good time—this is easily the coolest experience of my life—but I feel pretty worthless right now. But I’ve still got a long long time to go, and hopefully by the end of it I’ll have achieved some of that enlightenment from travelling that I’ve heard so much about.
18:58 Saturday, 11 September 2004
It’s been 3 years since terrorists attacked and destroyed the World Trade Center, and it’s been 8 years since my family moved into Glen Gardner. And it’s been 11 days since I arrived here in Frankfurt. I still haven’t learned much German. I still don’t have the internet. I still haven’t found Enlightenment.
I’ve just been feeling really tired all the time, although I still manage to go out and do stuff every single day. I guess I’m having fun. It’s just hard to say that when the only times I’ve felt really truly happy are after hearing from Jessi.
Maybe I just miss home. Maybe I miss my friends. Maybe I miss weed. I miss all those things. I miss my identity. I miss having people around who actually give a shit about me. I wonder why I’m not the kind of person who makes friends easily. Why nobody seems to like me very much at first. I don’t know. Maybe I just need more time. Maybe it’s because I just don’t like anybody else at first. Not that I don’t like them, but I’m not extremely compassionate and outgoing. Who knows?
I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I guess that’s the main problem I have. I really have no idea where I’m going with this whole thing, but I have a feeling I need more time to figure this stuff out. And again, once I have the internet I think the tide might begin to turn.
I guess the frustrating thing is having to wait, knowing there’s nothing I can really do in the meantime to speed up or help the process. I’ve been studying German every day but I don’t feel like I’m getting any better. I’ve been meeting people and being social but I don’t feel like I’ve made any friends. I’ve been keeping this journal but it doesn’t seem like there’s much of a point to it.
It’s easier when there’s Love involved. If there was someone around who I could be in Love with and just live for them, and have my life and all of my emotions revolve around them. That’s what was so great about Jessi. Even though I had no chance with her and it was inappropriate in many ways to think about her so much, it was a very comfortable situation.
So I’ve learned that much about myself, although it’s something I already knew. I’m at my best when I’m in Love. I feel the best about myself and the most Hopeful about life when I’m drowning in Unrequited Love. My beloved curse.
I know that the best thing to do would be to start writing again, but I lack the inspiration. Perhaps once I get the internet and start talking to Jessi again all of that emotion will come back and I’ll be inspired to undertake another writing project. Maybe I’ll finally write the sequel to Andromeda, although I think Andromeda itself needs to be re-written before I’ll be comfortable submitting it for publication.
Goddamn this journal is all over the place. I feel kind of sad right now. Maybe it’s because I just called home and talked to my dad for awhile and remembered how much I miss them. Funny how I’m just now starting to appreciate my parents now that we’re separated by an ocean. But I guess I figured that would happen, and I’m glad it’s happening. I’m sick of resenting them for everything.
I started lucid dreaming last night, which is good. I’m trying to train myself to do that, because it should be pretty easy here. I’ve been having numerous dreams in which I’m back in the USA for some reason but I don’t know why. I’ve been telling myself over and over again that if I’m in America, I’m asleep. Last night I don’t know what triggered it but I did realise I was asleep and I began to float. But the dream wasn’t lucid enough, and while I was aware that I was dreaming I felt more like it was a magical power that I had to exert lots of mental energy to hold on to. I tried focussing on the details of the dream, and even read a slip of paper that I tried to memorise what it said so I could retain it after I woke up. I don’t have a clue as to what it said. But hopefully I’ll get better and better at it as time goes on, and in no time at all I’ll be back in the woods with Jessi.
Alone and directionless, that’s where I am. I’m in a period of limbo between the world I’ve come from and the world I’ve now found myself in. It’ll take me awhile to get adjusted to this world, but hopefully I’ll figure it out soon enough. If I had some weed that would really speed up the process. Weed is far better than beer for putting things in perspective.
I think I’ll end on that note. I haven’t had anything important to say this whole time. Hopefully something important will happen soon.
17:23 Monday, 13 September 2004
Well, the splitter for the internet came, but for some bizarre unknown reason we can’t get the internet to work. And now we’re going to have to wait another night until the man comes to install David’s phone line tomorrow and hopefully he can show us what we’re doing wrong. But anyway, at this point I hardly even care anymore. I’ve been feeling shitty for the past three days and I’m not in the mood to e-mail Corey, IM Jessi, or post a Blog for my friends back in Ewing. Not that either of the latter two really give a shit.
But yeah, right now I’m feeling pretty empty, like all of the magic is gone. In the weeks before I left and the first few days I was here, there was this spirit of adventure like something very important was happening in my life. Now it just feels like this could easily go by without me learning anything from it, or even having much fun. I still don’t seem to have picked up any more of the German language than I knew before I got here. Which is frustrating because I’d like to communicate with more than just the other American students, but the only conversations I can have are stupid, bland, boring “where are you from?” and “what do you study?” conversations. I’m sick of those.
But at the same time I’m not putting forth too much effort to go out and be social and learn the language, so it is partially my fault. But I’ve also been a little sick, and extremely tired every day. I just don’t have the mental energy to do it. If this stupid intensive German course didn’t force me to get up at 7:00 every morning I might actually be able to get something out of it. But as of now I find I’m spending most of the time daydreaming while the teacher is babbling in German. Every now and then I’ll slap myself and listen in and try to translate what’s being said and learn from it, but this doesn’t last very long and the next thing I know my mind is back on Juliana.
I might as well mention her, although I really don’t want to. I wish she would just get out of my mind, but she’s already made it into my dreams. I guess about the second or third day of class I noticed that one of the girls had eyes that looked exactly like Jessi’s. Her lips also bear a resemblance to Jessi’s, so her face has kind of a Jessi-esque appearance to it. Her name, I found out by listening to the next role call, is Juliana, and by overhearing conversations I learned that she’s from Brazil, the only exchange student in the class who is from that country.
Now, she is by no means an attractive girl. Her face, despite the perfect eyes and lips, is puffy not smooth. And she’s a bit chunky in the stomach, with an ass far larger than my standards for ass-size. But those goddamned eyes…all it took was for my stupid brain to connect those eyes with Jessi’s and that was it. I can’t stop thinking about her. She was even in my dream the other night, which really pissed me off. All I can think about is how can I talk to her, what can I say to her, and on and on. But I don’t really want to talk to her and I have absolutely nothing to say to her. I don’t speak Portuguese and she doesn’t speak English. And my German sucks ass. What can I say, besides, “Du hast sehr schöne Augen.”? And where would that get me?
As if I’m trying to get anywhere in the first place. I’m not even attracted to this girl. But my eyes keep drifting over to her during class and every now and then when she’s at just the right angle and has just the right expression I melt with emotion. I just keep telling myself that I’m only projecting my love for Jessi onto this other girl, which is completely true. But I don’t want to project my love onto anybody else when I already have Jessi as a far closer friend than this girl could ever be.
And she definitely has no interest in me either. On Saturday night I went out with a bunch of people and we met up with a bunch of other exchange students to go drink at a bar, and she was among them (and my god she looked fabulous—I don’t even want to think about it) but we didn’t even say hello or anything. I just kept stealing glances at her all night like she was Lauren or something.
Anyway, that’s Juliana. With any luck, once this course is over I’ll never see her again and I can forget about her. But right now she’s only reminding me of how great my desire is for a physical relationship with a human female. At this point I don’t even care how big her ass is or how puffy her cheeks are, I would squeeze her so tight and kiss her for so long…ah, why the fuck am I typing this!
So you can see how aggravating it is to be me. It takes a ridiculous amount of effort and self-deception to be happy. I have to manage to get myself to believe that being alone forever is actually a good thing and I’m somehow going to turn out to be a great person because of it. When in ALL likelihood I’m just going to die bitter and alone, having never done anything of significance.
I don’t know, hopefully this pessimism will pass, but while it lasts I just feel ridiculous. Thinking about my life situation from an outsider’s perspective—what would a normal person think if I told them my whole spiel about I plan on being alone forever, being faithful to love, and changing the world through my philosophy? That’s one sad, pathetic, self-delusional man.
Then again, I know it’s better to be delusional and constantly believing that you are special and can change the world even if you fail than to just accept the fact that you’re insignificant and nothing you do matters without ever trying to make a difference.
But in order to change anything or influence anyone you first need to communicate, and as of right now I don’t feel like I can communicate with anyone but the 4 other Americans and my family back home. And when you are living in a city surrounded by millions of people and can only communicate with 4 of them…it has a psychological impact that I hadn’t counted on. I feel more alone and isolated than I even did back home. I really am thousands of miles from anyone who gives a shit about me. I’m thousands of miles form everyone I give a shit about.
I need to talk to Jessi. Maybe then I’ll get the boost I need to rekindle my hope. Or at least get the reality-check I need to crush it completely…yet again.
16:04 Tuesday, 14 September 2004
Well, progress has been made on two fronts, but not the “important” ones. I’m even farther from getting the internet than I thought I was (it’s going to be at least 3 more days) and I haven’t progressed further with my German speaking skills. BUT I have seen a significant improvement in the lucid dreaming front, as my experience last night will indicate.
I found myself at a Phish concert, which oddly enough was being held in the All-Purpose room of Clinton Public School, where I spent grades 6 through 8. But I’m jumping ahead because that was the second day of the concert. On the first day the band played a cover of “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell (which I’d listened to and got into my head last night) and I thought this was rather extraordinary because I had in fact just been wondering if Phish would ever do a cover of this song. This is not even close to the kind of song they would cover, and yet they were doing it. I remember turning to the person next to me and saying, “Trey and I must have some sort of psychic connection.”
And after the first day was over, I found that I actually lived in the same house as Trey, and he’d baked some weed cupcakes that were in the refrigerator. Before the concert in the All-Purpose Room began Trey was giving a long speech on the microphone in which he mentioned the cupcakes. None of this seemed odd to me.
At one point I woke up and realised how ridiculous it was that I hadn’t realised this whole stupid scenario was a dream. I told myself, “If I’m at a Phish concert, I’m asleep,” but I quickly feel back asleep and even more strangely fell into the same dream. I was in the All-Purpose Room again and the concert was taking forever to begin. I bumped into Matt Phoenix and a few of the other guys I went to the IT festival with who were also there waiting for the concert to begin. I ran back to my house (which was also Trey’s house and was oddly enough just down the hallways) to get some of the weed-cupcakes for everyone as well as grab myself a beer. My friends were very grateful.
Of course none of this seemed the least bit odd to me. What I found strange was that Phish would be putting on a show at all, since they played their last show at Coventry and I distinctly remember being there. I got angry that they would continue to tour after what they had said was their last show, and only then did I realise that something strange was going on. The feeling I got at the exact instant of realisation was something so strong I can’t even describe. All of a sudden I a bolt of excitement shot through me that hit me so hard I was afraid I would wake up. But I didn’t do anything immediately. I reflected on the situation for a moment and realised that this whole CPS concert thing now made a ridiculous amount of sense. I turned to Matt Phoenix who was seated beside me (he also went to CPS) and said, “I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m pretty sure this is all actually a dream. So when the band starts playing you can float around, trip as hard as you want and basically enjoy the shit out of it.”
I’ll never forget the response I got, because I certainly wasn’t the one who made him say it. “I don’t really think this is a dream, and besides I don’t want it to be. I’m really excited about this concert and especially because it’s happening where we went to school.”
I smiled and marvelled at how real everything around me seemed. For a moment I thought I could believe that I was actually awake and this was really happening. But I thought better of it and told Matt that I would prove to him that this was a dream. I immediately began to float upwards, and he didn’t look surprised. Nobody around me seemed surprised at all. But now that I was absolutely sure this was a dream and I had finally been able to make myself lucid I decided to take advantage of it. I’d been waiting for what seemed like forever for the band to start playing, and I realised that they weren’t going to start until I made them. So with my own mind I brought the house light down and the band on stage with their instruments. Then I turned to the audience, still floating and proclaimed in a voice so loud that I might have actually been talking in my sleep, “Ladies and gentlemen. I am the dreamer. You are here in my world and are about to witness on momentous occasion. It is my pleasure to introduce to you—Phish!” And the band began to play and I let myself feel all sorts of psychedelic effects while floating around in the sky and really getting into the music, all of which I knew was coming from my own head. Unfortunately I let it get too intense and I woke up shortly thereafter, but I felt like I had really accomplished something. That was such an incredibly intense dreaming experience. My only regret is that I didn’t bring Jessi into it, but she wasn’t on my mind at the time. The dream was about a concert and I made the concert happen. Quite incredible.
So anyway, the other “front” I made “progress” on today has to do with…yes…Juliana. As much as it annoys me that she has made it into yet another journal entry I simply must mention her because the majority of the emotion in my waking life seems to revolve around her now, although I will point out that this is all completely against my will. Anyway, in class this morning she sat two seats down from me and as usual we didn’t say anything to each other. During the 30-minute break before the second hour-and-a-half she stood talking to her friend at a table not too far from mine, while I just stared into space and occasionally at her, trying to figure out what I saw in her (besides Jessi’s eyes) and what the fuck it meant that I was having these feeling for her, where I wanted them to go, how I wanted to think of them, etc. It just pissed me off because this is another situation where the girl is completely unreachable, not because of an age barrier this time but because of a language barrier. And not only that, but she’s not even attractive. It just confuses the shit out of me that I could have such feelings for someone I not only don’t know but don’t even think is beautiful. It’s just her eyes, for crying out loud! Less than 1% of her total body mass. It just doesn’t make any sense that my brain would get hung up on this, but after so much emotion I have to accept that it has.
Anyway, back in class we had the same seats and at one point we broke into groups and as chance would have it I ended up in her group. We took a long time to finish the project and I talked to her every time I could but it was only stupid trivial bullshit having to do with the assignment. But when we finally finished the assignment, the actual small talk broke out, and we had the standard “where are you from?” and “what do you study”?” conversations. I asked her a lot about how she’s the only girl from Brazil here (and found that there’s actually another guy from Brazil but he’s in another class) and why she chose to come to Germany (it was completely by chance; her mother put her in a language class when she was really young because she thought it was important to learn English and German) and what did she plan to be with her journalism major (she wants to be a journalist) and so on. So we finally met each other and had pleasant conversation. And after talking to her I was willing to accept that I have feelings for her, however irrational they may be. If it weren’t for Jessi I certainly would never have even given her a second glance. But yeah, so that class ended and after the next hour long break we were back but sitting in different seats. The room is arranged with a bunch of tables in a C-shape and everyone sits on one side of the tables. There were a few chairs on the other side and at one point she reached over to try and bring one of the chairs on the other side of the table closer so she could rest her feet on it. But she couldn’t quite reach and she gave up, but by pure luck I happened to be sitting the perfect place for me to reach over and do this for her. For which I got a smile and a “danke schön.” And as we all know, it’s stupid insignificant little things like this that make me very happy. That was all it took to put me in a really good mood for the rest of the day. I didn’t care at all when I found out the bad news about the internet.
But now I’m forced to look at this Juliana situation and wonder if this trick of the mind has the potential to turn itself into another full-blown—dare I write it?—Love thing. Ack, I certainly hope not. Then again, maybe I do. Perhaps it would be nice to have someone who is actually not thousands of miles away to provide me with my daily dose of Unrequited Heroin that I’m so desperately dependant on. Someone to inspire me who is actually here, and not separated by thousands of miles of ocean and thousands of days of emotional development. Still, a Brazilian who barely speaks English is only slightly less accessible than a 14-year old girl. And I might not see Juliana ever again once this course is over. If I do let myself be taken by her I’ll have to actually put forth some serious effort to form a friendship in the next three weeks. Once this class is over I probable won’t see her again. Which is why it would be best to just try not to think about it and let her go when she goes. But my brain won’t let me do that. I’ve already written enough about it that when it does go it’s not going to slip away so easily.
Then again, maybe it will. This is all very confusing and unprecedented. I suppose I really have nothing to lose, so I should just tell her she has amazing eyes and get it over with. I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t. Better not to wonder, right? It’s not like I’ll be crushed from a rejection by her. Yet that’s what I said about Lauren at first, even about Aimee. Of course, they were beautiful and this girl’s only beautiful quality is that her eyes are identical to the girl I actually Love.
But what is actual Love anyway? It’s just the person I decide to designate the word to. If I wanted I could just label this as Love right now and treat it as such. I just really don’t want to. Anyway, it doesn’t matter because these decisions are never made rationally anyway. My emotions will dictate whether this becomes love or not. I just hope three weeks isn’t enough time for that to happen, but who am I kidding? It happened far quicker with Jessi, and I see this girl far more frequently than I ever saw Jessi.
Oh fuck me and my emotions. Whether it’s Love or just a stupid mind-game my heart is playing, nothing will ever come of it. That’s just the way my life works. If I haven’t learned that by now I should be smacked across the face with a two-by-four. So it doesn’t matter. No matter what, in a month or so I’ll be looking back on this whole thing and I’ll know whether it really was the beginning of another hopeless infatuation or just a temporary misalignment of neurons.
16:10 Thursday, 16 September 2004
On Tuesday night I went with the two other Americans from TCNJ to the middle of the city to meet up with Julia and her friend Sabina, whom I’d also met when she was an exchange student at TCNJ. We hung out in a very expensive bar, drank beers and talked German the whole time, and then we went back to our respective homes. When I got to my floor I headed to the kitchen to take one last beer, and two of the Germans from my floor were in there talking and drinking. I was pretty sure it was one of them who had drank my beer last week, and I was tipsy enough to decide to continue being social, so I sat down and toasted with them, then asked them about my beer. One of them, Mark, admitted it was probably him because he had been extremely drunk and just went through the refrigerators drinking whatever was there.
But I let them know it was no big deal, and we continued to talk for awhile (after a few beers my German is much better). I mentioned how I was having trouble finding weed around here, and they expressed their surprise because apparently it’s pretty prevalent. Unfortunately neither of them knew anyone whom I could currently get anything from. After awhile they decided to go out to the bar and invited me to come along. I was curious about bars in the area, so I agreed. Apparently there are several bars about fifty meters from our front door, but they’re hidden. I drank two more beers and they paid for them to make up for the beers of mine they had drank last week. It was a great time, and I understood most of what they said and had very little trouble communicating with them. By the time we went back I was pretty damn drunk, and I fell asleep almost immediately.
And yesterday I was sick nearly all day. I felt like shit except for right after meals, and my throat was absolutely aching from all the cigarettes I smoked that night. I haven’t had a cigarette since, and unless I get really drunk tonight I don’t think I’ll smoke one today either.
So I made some progress on the social and practicing German fronts. I spent all of yesterday studying, food-shopping, doing laundry, and very non-recreational things of that nature. When I went to the kitchen to have dinner one of the Romanian students told me they were going to take the train to Amsterdam that night and invited me to come along. I was still feeling sick and I knew I had class this morning, so I declined, but was slightly pissed off that I was missing an opportunity for what probably would have been an incredible adventure. Oh well, I’ll make it to Amsterdam one of these days.
And then last night I seemed to be losing progress on my lucid dreaming front. Before I went to sleep I reminded myself that if I was in America, smoking weed, or at a Phish concert I should know that I’m dreaming. The whole dream took place at a Phish concert (yet again) but it never occurred to me that I was asleep. The weird part was that it had certain lucid qualities, in that every now and then I thought, “I could do this if I just think it,” and then it was done. I did some flying, and when something I didn’t like happened I would just wish it away and it would be gone. But I never reached a state of full lucidity. Quite odd.
Today in class I managed to say one stupid trivial thing to Juliana, but that was it. And it’s obvious to me—at least for today—that I’m not going to fall head over heels in love with her. I’m in love with her eyes, but that’s about it. I’m using her to project all of this pent-up emotion I’ve been carrying with me for about…my entire life. It’s got to be directed somewhere, and if Jessi’s not around why not the girl with her eyes? Once she’s gone it’ll be somebody else.
So yeah, that’s pretty much it. I’m really beginning to get settled into this life. It would be nice if I had the internet or a television, but those things are just luxuries I must wait for. Right now I’ve got all that I need…except of course for love, but that’s all you really need.
17:56 Friday, 17 September 2004
Last night at about 3:00 in the morning I woke up and heard two people talking loudly outside my door. It wasn’t there fault; you can hear everything that happens in the hall quite clearly from the rooms, and the semester doesn’t begin until a month from now so why should anyone care if they carry on a conversation outside? Of course I had to wake up in several hours and I had a very hard time getting back to sleep with the constant change of volume in their conversation as well as the sudden bursts of laughter. So after about a half an hour of putting up with it I stuck my head out of the door and they asked me if they were being too loud. “Ja, ein bisschen zu laut,” I replied and that was that. They finished their conversation and I went back to bed. But I didn’t get back to sleep. Ever. I tossed and turned throughout the whole morning, my stomach yelling at me until I finally gave in and went to kitchen to prepare myself something to eat. But even after that I couldn’t sleep, and I tossed and turned right through the rising of the sun until I had to get up and go to class.
Needless to say, my mind wasn’t really functioning up to par when I arrived, and for some reason when Juliana arrived she looked more stunningly beautiful than I have ever remembered her seeming. She even said hello to me and I said “morgen” and she sat down right across from me as we waited in the hall for the teacher to arrive.
I forgot to mention that yesterday I put an end to the silly practice of never telling anyone anything about my romantic interests. Of course, this situation is a lot different. It’s far less morally reprehensible to be interested in a somewhat chubby Brazilian exchange student than a stunningly gorgeous 14-year-old American high school student. At lunch with David and Justin (the other two Americans from TCNJ) and Rachel (other American exchange student from Houston) that I was “strangely” attracted to Juliana even though I didn’t find her attractive. Not much was said about it then but later that evening when Justin, David, and I went out for dinner and beer David joked that he had told her I liked her. He said, “She was like…” and I finished his sentence by saying, “Ew, gross? That’s what they usually say.” His reply was “That’s harsh,” and that’s all there was to it until I was a little tipsy and I brought her up again, mentioning how I didn’t usually go for the big-assed girls but her eyes were just too fucking beautiful.
Anyway, so this morning when she said hello to me and sat across from me and my brain wasn’t functioning properly I thought it might be possible that someone had told her I was interested in her and she might be returning the interest. I seriously considered telling her she has beautiful eyes right then and there, but number 1, Rachel was sitting right next to me and it was far easier to talk to her, and number 2, I’m a fucking scared pussy when it comes to these things and the odds are I’ll never work up enough nerve to tell her that. Besides, Juliana asked Rachel about the Tequila Party that’s going on tonight in one of the dorms in our area, and I immediately realised that it would be far better to “make my move” at a social event (mit Alkohol) than in the ungodly hours of the morning whilst my brain could scarcely form a coherent thought.
But once we shuffled into class and Juliana took a seat far away from me I realised that she still has no idea I like her and that’s all there is to it. But looking at her in profile with my mind completely off its guard she definitely looked more beautiful than I’d care to admit and I could tell quite clearly that this unwelcome attraction has the definite potential to turn itself into Love if left unchecked. The question is not “if” but “how long”? And two more weeks is probably more than enough time for me to fall completely in Love with her (or should I say, “for my mind to re-focus all of my emotions around her”?), but it’s definitely not enough time for me to learn enough German to be able to carry on any sort of conversation that would allow me to get to actually know her or her to know me. So once again the laws of logic and reason are against me, and it’s obvious that the rational thing to do would be to try not to think about her and ignore this until it goes away.
Of course rationality has no sway over my
actions, and it’s sure as hell not going to stop me from going to this stupid
Tequila Party tonight and attempting to talk to her. What I’m hoping to
accomplish I have no idea. All I know is that this is all happening
And in two weeks it’ll all be over and I’ll never see her again. And in four weeks I’ll look back on all this and laugh at myself for thinking it was so important.\
Jesus, I didn’t think life in another country could be so predictable…but it’s all the same stupid patterns anyway.
It may seem like I’m in a bad mood, but I’m actually feeling rather…I don’t really know. Certainly not bad. Just a little sick but no sicker than I’ve felt for almost a week and I’m starting to think I’ll be feeling this sick for the rest of my time here. It’s bothering me less and less. The only thing really bothering me right now is that I don’t really like anyone in this stupid country. David is nice but Justin is kind of an asshole and because we’re hanging around with him all the time it makes us act more like assholes and I feel like an asshole. Rachel is just…well, there’s absolutely nothing special about her. She’s nice but I get the feeling she secretly hates us and is only hanging out with us because we speak the same language as her. Or maybe I’m just projecting those feelings on to her…the only reason I’m hanging out with David and Justin is because we speak the same language. A shallower friendship there has seldom been.
So yeah, there’s also the crazy loud Germans on my floor, who are fun but I don’t think they like me very much, and I can’t talk to them anyway unless I’m drunk. And when I’m not drunk I probably come across as an anti-social asshole to them, especially after asking them to be quiet like I did last night. I fucking hate doing that.
I feel like there was something else I wanted to write but I forgot. Oh yeah, it turns out the Germans didn’t go to Amsterdam last night after all. It’s just something they always talk about doing but have only actually gone through with once. So I didn’t miss out on anything.
And oh yeah, the internet thing still hasn’t come. After class today we checked our mailboxes and it was empty to we went to the phone company (T-Punkt) and they were on lunch-break and the only woman there had no idea what to do and told us to go to the post office because supposedly it was shipped last Thursday and they should have it. So we went to the post office and after waiting for them to finish their lunch break they said they didn’t have it and we had to talk to T-Punkt about it. And then we went back to T-Punkt and another lady was there and said that it was shipped yesterday and we should have it by Monday or Tuesday. I very much doubt that. I don’t think I’m ever going to get the internet.
But I don’t care. Tomorrow I’m going to an internet café and I’ll e-mail Jessi there. I guess I have some interesting things to say to her now. I’ll probably even tell her about Juliana. It’s not like it could do any harm. I love how there’s really nothing I can do in this Jessi situation now that can really do any harm. The hardest part is over; she knows I love her and she’s okay with it. Now the only thing I could really do to fuck things up is to talk excessively of my crazy obsession with her, and I sure as hell know not to do that. I don’t think it will really hurt if I tell her I’m attracted to a Brazilian girl with eyes just like hers. I’m sure her response will be completely shallow and meaningless. I can always count on her for that.
God I love writing in this state of mind. I should deprive myself of sleep more often. I definitely feel sort of invincible. If Juliana is at the party tonight I don’t think it will take too many tequilas to lower my inhibitions enough to talk to her. I’ll completely fuck up whatever it was I tried to memorise and she’ll laugh and I’ll laugh and drink some more tequila and come crashing down out of this invincibility feeling as the reality hits me once again that yes, I’m still doomed to be alone forever, There Is No Hope, and all that bullshit. Not to mention it’ll be the closest thing to out-and-out rejection I’ve had in years, and afterwards my attraction will only grow stronger until it really will hurt once this Deutsch class ends and I never see her again.
But alas, such is my life and it gets less painful as time goes on. Besides, I’m in the land of beer, where all pain can be wiped away with a quick trip down the street to the closest beer-stand! I’ve got nothing to lose but self-confidence, and I really don’t have any of that anyway, so in actuality I’ve got NOTHING to lose. Oh no, I can’t go out with a Brazilian girl with a big ass who I wouldn’t even be able to talk to or meaningfully connect with anyway. How horrible!
Life is a big fucking joke, and I’m sure there’s one hell of a punch-line in store for me tonight.
0:08 Saturday, 18 September 2004
And here is the drunken entry where I describe what happened at the aforementioned “Tequila” Party. Of course you already know what happened because I predicted it, and as predicted, my prediction was completely correct.
I should mention that I’ve been reading my previous journal, Love and Despair and it’s been enlightening me quite a bit about Love and my life and how they are hopelessly intertwined and divided at the same time. Anyway, after writing that last entry I read a few more entries in that journal and felt pretty good about myself. I was having such a damned good time that I really didn’t want to stop and go to the fucking party, but I knew I would regret it if I didn’t, so I put down the computer and went outside to buzz David or Justin to see if they wanted to accompany me to this thing. Of course I didn’t really want to go there with David or Justin because I knew if I did I would spend the whole time talking with them about how much it sucked and then we would leave. But as luck would have it, they were still gone on whatever adventure they’re having tonight, and I happened to bump into Jesse, a guy from Massachussetts whom we’ve hung out with a few times before but is far more socially inclined than the rest of us. He’s outgoing and friendly and he frequently hangs out with the kids from other countries, so I knew it would be perfect to go to the party with him. He mentioned how he was going to the Tequila Party and I told him that’s exactly where I was headed, so he said, “cool,” and we began to head off to the party. But I was still completely sober and I hate arriving at parties sober, so I suggested we go up to my kitchen and have a beer as a sort of “pre-game.” So that we did, and we talked for awhile. He’s a damn good guy. He smoked weed too (which I was hardly surprised at) and we talked about our drinking and smoking habits, bad-mouth George W. Bush for awhile, and I told him about my attraction to Juliana. He said he’s talked to her a few times and she’s pretty. He’s attracted to another girl from his class (the school is divided into three classes and he’s in the lowest, or A class and I’m in the middle, or B class if I haven’t mentioned that). So after our beer we were off to the party and sure enough, Juliana was there, looking as gorgeous as ever.
Immediately I thought I that I would never be able to say what I wanted to say to her, let alone even get a chance to talk to her, but I figured that might be cured with some Tequila, although almost nobody was drinking Tequila. But it was a fucking Tequila party, so Jesse and I each got a Tequila sunrise and I finished mine quickly and got a beer. During this time I talked to an Italian girl in German and then got sucked into a conversation with another American from Wisconsin. After I traded my Tequila sunrise for a Bex I sat down and the Wisconsin kid, who is as nice as he is tall (and he’s very tall) talked to me some more. He talked about how he hasn’t had a girlfriend in three years but it’s great because it gives him opportunities like this, travelling abroad and seeing the world, which he won’t have when he’s married and has kids. I was busy looking at Juliana and feeling shitty about my shitty social skills, so I blurted out that I’ve never had a girlfriend and I probably never will. He gave me the standard, “No, you’ll find someone,” and I wasn’t in the mood to humour him so I just said, “That’s what people have been saying for 10 years but it’s not gonna happen.” He didn’t seem to know how to react and then I said, “You’re the first person I’ve told that to in like a year. That tequila sunrise must have done something.”
Around that point the Portuguese students gathered right next to me and were laughing and drinking and Juliana was among them. I was trying to interject into their conversation, perhaps with a “was ist so kommisch?” but the Wisconsin kid kept talking to me and I was probably acting like a dick because I wasn’t saying much and kept looking at Juliana instead of paying attention to the conversation.
But then Jesse came back and sat down next to me, and he initiated conversation with the Portuguese students and the Wisconsin kid left. Then Juliana and her drunk friends (she wasn’t nearly as drunk as they were) started talking to us, and I made lots of small talk with her although she directed most of what she said towards Jesse. I knew this was my only chance to say what I had wanted to say, but every time I was about to say it either Jesse would say something, she would say something, or one of her friends would interject and say something. Finally there was a lull in the drunken activity and I said, “Du hast die shönsten Augen.”
She said, “was?”
And I said, “Deiner Augen sind am schönsten.”
She didn’t blush or say “danke” or anything. As expected, she said something completely unexpected. “Warum?” (why?)
And of course I had no response but before I could think of one she said, “Keine Ahnung?” (no idea?)
And I said, “Ja” (yeah) which or course was a lie because I know full well why I think she has the best eyes.
But that was the end of the conversation. A second later a drunken picture was taken and some more meaningless trivial things were said, and she and her friends left and I lit up the first cigarette I’ve had in days, trying to figure out how I felt about what had just transpired.
I still don’t know. All I knew was that my stomach wasn’t feeling so good and I was so tired I could hardly take it. I stayed at the party for awhile longer, watched a few people play Fuβball (the table kind) and went to the bathroom. Then I just sat down again and reverted into my wallflower self, singing sad lyrics to myself and enjoying my misery. If anything was clear it was that I have no chance with Juliana or anyone else in the world and I’d yet again confirmed it. But I hadn’t expected anything more…I hadn’t really expected anything. The important thing was I’d done what I wanted to do and said what I wanted to say and now it’s over and it doesn’t have to bother me anymore.
While she was talking to us, (about what they’re doing for Christmas and how she doesn’t smoke but sells packs of cigarettes for cheap) I had a good chance to really study her face and her eyes and it was clear to me that there is no “real” attraction to this girl (I admit I have no idea what constitutes a “real” attraction) and that the ONLY reason I’m interested in her is because of the resemblance her eyes have to Jessi’s.
So I really don’t feel very bad right now. It might just be the alcohol numbing my emotions, because I feel FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR from good, and it might be the fact that I only had 3 fucking hours of sleep last night, but after all that I couldn’t bring myself to try and socialise anymore. I just sat by myself and observed the unique situation of people from all over the world getting drunk together and trying to communicate in a language none of them were particularly good at. After awhile Jesse came back and told me I should “sprechen mit leute” (talk with people) and I said, “das ist zu schwer” (it’s to difficult) because “es gibt zu viele leute” (there are too many people) and “ich bin zu müde” (I’m too tired) and he asked me if I wanted to go back. I said that I did but he could stay there. He seemed surprised and asked me if I didn’t mind and I said “kein problem” (it’s no problem) and he told me about what’s going on tomorrow night and said he’ll ring me and if I feel up to it I’m more than welcome to come along. So yeah, he’s definitely a great friend to have and I like him better than either of the other two NJ kids. He really genuinely cares, which is something the others don’t.
But anyway, I walked back to my dorm and tried to make sense of it all but the only conclusion I came to is that Juliana is really nothing special and it doesn’t really bother me that nothing will ever happen between us because…I mean really…who gives a shit? This is on the same level of disappointment as the Julia saga from the first time I was in Germany (the girl who acted interested in me at the Rheinfest when she was trashed but then didn’t give a shit about me once she was sober).
All in all it’s just another tiny brick in an already gargantuan motherfucking wall. At this point it’s too high to even consider the possibility of breaking free, but I’ve long since accepted that and am able to take “rejections” like this in stride. There was never any hope to lose.
11:25 Saturday, 18 September 2004
Before I go out and attack my day I have a couple dreams to write about. The first involves Juliana and is kind of stupid but it marks the second time she’s been in my dreams, and that always means something to me (even if it shouldn’t). I was living in a house with 7 people much like the one I used to live at in Ewing, but this one was in Germany. My old roommate Kristin lived there but she had her own room next to mine. And Juliana was also living there and she had a room across from mine. I was leaving my room to go downstairs when I heard Juliana arguing with Kristin. Apparently she was upset because Kristin kept her door open all the time and smoked cigarettes constantly, which naturally bothered non nicht-raucher Juliana. Kristin was being a bitch, saying, “It’s my room and I’ll keep my door open whenever I want.” I butted in and said, “It’s rude to keep your door open in Germany, Kristin, and this is Germany so at least close your door when you’re smoking.” The girls agreed to this compromise and that was it. Stupid pointless dream.
But the NEXT dream involved none other than my favourite star of my dreams, the one and only Jessi! She hasn’t been in my dreams for so long that I was beginning to doubt she would ever make it to them again. But in this lovely yet strange dream I was back in America, visiting her at her house. We talked and talked and went out in the backyard and played on the trampoline for awhile and it was just wonderful and great and I knew it was a wonderful and great experience. But after awhile her father came out and told me that was enough time and I had to go. He also handed me a paper with a bunch of questions, like a job application only I wasn’t sure what it was for. He told me about it but I didn’t understand what he was saying. But as I was filling it out Jessi told me the answers to put down and I gave it to her father and left.
But it didn’t end there. As I was driving home, the road kept going on and one with no turn-offs and I began to suspect that I really wasn’t going anywhere. I began to wonder why I’d left Jessi’s house in the first place, and then began to wonder how it is I got there, how I could be in America, how I could be driving. And like magic the dream took an instant turn as I picked the car off the ground and lifted off in flight, aware that I was now lucid dreaming, and if I could just get back to Jessi one of my main goals would be accomplished. But this was no easy task. I couldn’t just conjure Jessi up out of nowhere or I would wake up. But I knew I hadn’t driven to far from her house, so I proceeded to fly up to the nearest house that looked like it might be hers, and tried to make it so that she would be waiting there in the window. But she wasn’t, and I got nervous that perhaps I wasn’t good enough at this lucid dreaming business to do what I wanted to do. But I followed the road back until I returned to what was most definitely Jessi’s house, and I flew in through the window to the kitchen where she was sitting with her father, who asked me what I was doing back.
I made the crucial error of trying to ignore him because I knew he wasn’t real, but in making him disappear I made Jessi disappear as well and I immediately woke up. Before even so much as reflecting on what had happened I immediately attempted to fall back asleep and salvage the situation. But the dream I returned to was highly distorted. I was invisible and it was just me observing Jessi and her father in the kitchen, although she didn’t look anything like she used to and I quickly gave up and woke up again. Very odd.
But I can only feel good about the dream because it certainly means progress. I now know that if I’m ever with Jessi again I can be 100% certain it’s a dream, and before I stupidly agree to leave I should be able to make the most of the unique opportunity and hug and kiss her and just satisfy my desire for awhile.
Because dreams are the ultimate satisfaction of our desires. We want to be able to control the world around us, to be the central consciousness, the Creator of our destiny, and dreams allow us to have that. We also want our lives to have meaning and even if life is meaningless our dreams are full of meaning because meaning is something that pertains only to our perception, and the dream world is completely created out of our own perception. We want to have Love in our lives, and dreams allow us to feel that Love and share it. Even if it’s only an idea of a person an not the actual person—because in real life we only know the ideas we have of people and not the actual people anyway.
And today I’m going to go to an internet café and tell Jessi all about everything I’ve been wanted to tell her, because I can and I’ll feel really good about it and that will be that. The situation I currently have with Jessi is the situation I wanted to be in when I got here. It’s my only victory in the world of Love and I might as well take advantage of it.
16:23 Sunday, 19 September 2004
Last night was the most incredible experience I’ve had so far in Europe, and one of the most enlightening (non-drug induced) experiences of my life. I spent the day yesterday doing some small errands and e-mailing Jessi and Corey at the internet café. Then in the afternoon I went with David and Justin for a walk in the giant park they have here. Upon returning we all ate frozen pizza and drank a beer, then I returned to my room and had a couple more beers on my own while waiting for Jesse to buzz me so we could go to Club Voltaire which I’d said the previous night at the Tequila Party I would be interested in going to.
Eventually he buzzed me and we got Rachael and sat in the kitchen and talked and drank another beer. By the time we were ready to leave I was already somewhat drunk. I had no idea that my drinking had hardly even begun.
It’s difficult to write this now because today I have the worst hangover I’ve ever had from beer, and by far the worst hangover I’ve had in Germany. The headache took about five hours to go away but my mind is still very cloudy and I’m having a hard time trying to find the right words. But it’s very important that I write about what transpired last night because…it was very important.
Anyway, we went to Club Voltaire where Saturday night is for “Tanzen, Tanzen, Tanzen!” and they have a DJ playing music from the 70s, 80s, and 90s. The same crap you’d hear at a high school dance only with much less rap and a few German songs (including “99 Luftballoons”). When we all got in there (there were at least 20 of us) it was very crowded and everyone else in the bar was clearly over 30, most of them over 40. Nobody wanted to dance until Juliana came in and immediately went to the dance floor.
That girl can fucking dance. I forgot how painful it is to watch someone you like dance without you. Naturally I went up to the dance floor and started “dancing” in the hopes that…I don’t really know what I hoped. I guess I just wanted to dance with her. But that didn’t happen. She ignored me for pretty much the whole night. She said plenty to Jesse though, who I think she might be interested in but unfortunately for her he has a girlfriend.
So the night got later and later, Saturday night turned into Sunday morning, and I got drunker and drunker and sadder and sadder. Every now and then I would get up and dance for a couple of seconds but eventually I was just sitting in the corner smoking cigarette after cigarette and contemplating how pathetic I am. At one point an Italian girl who I met at the Tequila Party sat down next to me and asked me in German what was wrong. I explained in German that “Ich bin traurig” (I am sad) and she asked “warum?” and I told her “weil ich bin immer allein” (because I’m always alone). She told me that we’re all always alone, and I said that’s very true but I’m talking about the fact that I’ve never had a “freundin” (girlfriend) and I never will and of course she gave me the standard “no, you’ll find somebody” and then she started trying to tell me that she understands how I feel because she’s not going to see her boyfriend in Italy for a very long time or something like that. Of course she has no idea how I feel and her situation is nothing like mine (almost the complete opposite), but I appreciated the fact that she cared enough to come up and talk to me and try to make me feel better. But I really had to pee so I told her I’d be back and by the time I came back she was already up and dancing again. But she left her bag on the table next to a burning candle and when I returned her bag was starting to catch fire. I immediately pulled the bag away and tried to blow out the flames but this only made it worse, so my only option was to spill the rest of my ridiculously over-priced beer onto it. Jesse seemed to be the only person who noticed this and I told him what happened. The Italian girl came back and didn’t even say “thank you” to me but she gave Jesse a hug for some reason. My how those girls love Jesse.
So naturally this made me even more depressed so I got another beer and continued to drink and smoke alone. Rachel told me that she would be leaving soon but when she left she certainly didn’t tell me. Jesse asked me what was wrong a few times and I told him with a smile on my face that this was the worst night of my life. He asked me why but I told him it was too loud to explain and I’d tell him on the way home. It really was too loud to talk at all. Whenever anyone wanted to say anything to each other they would have to talk directly into their ear. But after I finished my next beer I decided it was time to go. It was 1:15 and Jesse had said that the last subway train that night left at 1:30. So I got up and said I was leaving and asked him if he was staying or going. He said he was staying and asked me if that was okay. Of course it was okay, I told him, though I couldn’t help but feel a slight bit of resentment. For the whole night he and a bunch of other people had been saying how lame this was, it was not what they expected, it was too loud and too crowded and whatnot. But now that people were really getting trashed everyone seemed to be having a good time but me.
So I left and went to the subway station where I was the only person there, and I waited for about ten minutes but not a single train came. I got up to look at the schedule and found that the last train actually left at 1:05. Lucky me.
So I went back to the god-forsaken club and ordered another god-forsaken beer and smoked a few more god-forsaken cigarettes while watching Juliana dance and punching myself in the face a few times. So much fun.
Then at about 3:00 the music stopped and the lights came up and everyone was filing out of the bar so I went with them out into the street. We were all completely wasted and when Juliana walked away and I thought she was gone I started to go a little crazy. I kept smacking my head against the trees, walls, bike racks, and whatever hard things there were to smack my head against. But I was being loud and drunk just like the rest of them and by all appearances it must have seemed like I was having the time of my life.
The group of people we were walking with was no longer only exchange students but just about everyone who was in the bar when it closed (people who were a lot younger than those who were there at the beginning). There was also a middle-aged man with a moustache riding alongside us on a bicycle, and he asked me if I wanted any cocaine. I told him I didn’t but if he had some hash I would buy it. He didn’t have hash, but I noticed that there were some other shady characters peddling drugs to us and I asked them if they had any hash.
They seemed delighted that they’d found someone drunk and stupid enough to buy from them and before I even took out the 20 Euros that they snatched from my hand I knew I was making a mistake. They were extremely friendly about it though so it didn’t feel so bad. They rolled what was almost certainly not 20 Euros worth of hash into a joint and I sparked it and smoked it on the street, sharing it with whoever wanted it. I didn’t think it was real because it certainly didn’t taste any weed-related substance I’ve ever smoked, but the people who smoked it with me said it tasted real.
When the joint was done and it was clear that I could have just smoked the 20 Euro bill and got the same effect, I was out of my crazed drunken, head-smashing mood and just completely depressed. We all came upon another club called “The Cave” which was still open and people proceeded to go inside. Juliana also miraculously returned and went into the club, and I was standing outside waiting for Jesse or somebody I knew to enter when it happened.
In retrospect I think the joint must have had an effect because this exact moment of the night is the one cloudy part that I have no clear recollection of. I’m pretty sure that during the joint I was talking to someone about how I was a philosophy major (I guess people in this country connect weed to a philosophy a lot more than in the states) and I was talking about how philosophy wasn’t important in the world today and I was probably wasting my life with it. It was during this conversation that we got to The Cave and people started to enter.
But this is when the really important part begins and it’s hard to explain because I’m not exactly sure how it happened that I started talking to the young woman named Lu, but it definitely had something to do with philosophy. She was German but spoke very good English, and she could somehow tell that I was feeling horrible inside when nobody else could or cared. But the first thing I remember her saying was “Do you suffer?” and as soon as I heard that it was like a lightning bolt struck my brain and I instantly became clear-minded again.
We stood outside the club and she told me about how she suffers and feel that life is pointless and she understands the feeling of despair that I have. I knew right away that I had found someone extremely special. I told her she was the first person I found in this country who seemed to understand me. We talked for awhile about how it was hard for people like us to talk to other people because nobody really understands. How we feel like we’re different people and that the people who others see us as is not really who we are. I gave her a big loving hug and felt that finally this night was turning into something special. It certainly was.
The man with the mustache and the bike who had been trying to sell cocaine came back and talked to the girl (he called her Nana) for awhile although I can’t remember if this was before or after we started talking about suffering. But when he left she told me that he suffers to. His mother controls him and he revealed to her tonight that she reminds him of his mother in some ways which made her feel very strange. But the man came back and we both talked to him. I offered him a cigarette and we decided to go into the club and sit down and talk.
But for some strange reason the man at the door wouldn’t let the guy in. I said that I would pay for him, but that wasn’t the problem. I think he said that the guy was too drunk, but that was ridiculous because he hardly seemed drunk at all and I was far more ridiculous than he was. He said that we should just go in and he would be okay but neither Lu or I wanted to do that. If this club wouldn’t let this poor guy in then we didn’t want to go in either.
So we went back out on the street and the guy said we could go to another bar which was just around the corner. This made Lu and I slightly uncomfortable. After all, this was a shady cocaine dealer asking us to go with him somewhere without our friends. It could easily be a horrible mistake. I’d never met this guy before and neither of us had any way of knowing that not everything he said was a lie. On top of that we were still confused as to why they hadn’t let him into The Cave.
But after he pleaded with us for a long time I said that if we couldn’t trust him what’s the point anyway? So we went with him and sure enough there was a bar open right around the corner. While we were walking he was asking me questions and telling me that I spoke German perfectly and I understood 100% of the language. I thought he was complimenting me, so I thanked him but told him he was wrong and I understood only a little.
Then while we were sitting in the bar I stupidly ordered another beer and he proceeded to talk to Lu in German but I didn’t understand what he was saying. He was being really nice to me so I had no reason to think there was anything wrong. But as he was talking to Lu she had a look of absolute disgust on her face. Eventually she turned to me and told me that this man was saying he didn’t believe a word I said. That he thought I could speak and understand German perfectly and was only pretending to be an exchange student to try and hook up with her.
I looked at the man and he asked me for my passport. Of course I didn’t have my passport but I showed him the only ID I have, which I think he said to her was fake. She said to me that he said I had “squint-eyes”. That he could tell everything about a person just by looking in their eyes and he knew that I was a liar.
So there I was, completely drunk, sitting in a bar with two people I’d never met and one of them believed that I was a dishonest liar. Lu asked me how I felt and I told her the truth. That I was extremely confused and that this was the strangest situation I’d ever been in in my life. She said that she’s been in a few very strange situations but this was one of the strangest for her too. I kept staring at my beer, wishing I hadn’t ordered it. But I kept drinking and smoking and giving cigarettes to both Lu and this man who didn’t trust me. Eventually Lu seemed to have had enough and we called for the bill, which the man insisted on paying. I felt so horribly bad when I got up and chugged the rest of my beer, having absolutely no clue what was the right thing to do. I tried to give him his money back and but he wouldn’t let me, and I finally just decided the best thing to do would be get the hell out of there and not look that. I told him that I wished him luck and he waved goodbye as I left the bar and found myself back on the cold and empty street. A moment later Lu came after me and we started walking very quickly towards the subway.
We talked about the guy and I said that I felt bad for him and I wished there was something I could do to help him but it was hopeless. She said that if she were me and understood what he was saying she would have punched him in the face. She told me how this was not the first time she’d met him and before he had tried to kiss her and this was always a problem because men were always trying to kiss her and she could never tell if the person she was talking to was interested in her mind or just her body and I said I understood completely and it was a shame that we live in a world like that.
We got to the subway station and I explained to her that the last train had already left but she pointed out that it was 4:30 in the morning and the trains had already started again. She said she would take me down into the station and say goodbye. So we went and sat down on the chairs and we started talking philosophically again. About how life is so hard for people like us who are constantly aware of it’s meaninglessness. I told her about my parents and how the fact that the first relationship I ever saw was of the man staying away from the woman that whenever I fall in love with someone I just stay away from them. I think she’s the first person I ever told that to. I don’t even think I’ve said that to Krissy or Corey.
When my train came she said she didn’t want to leave me like that and I said I didn’t want to leave, so we let the train go by. And we sat in that subway station and talked for hours about life and love. We talked about Nietzche and Camus (whom she’s read thoroughly) and I told her about my theories that everyone is connected through one consciousness and Love is the only thing that’s real. She said she was so happy to hear this and it seemed to her that my ideas were on a level even deeper than the existentialist’s. I couldn’t believe I was hearing that, but it made me feel better than I’ve felt since I got here.
We continued to talk and smoke the rest of my cigarettes and she told me about her desperation and sometimes she felt what she called “the light from within” which she couldn’t find a good enough English word to explain but I understood what she meant anyway. We could have continued talking forever but she started to get a headache and my bladder couldn’t handle the wait any longer. So we went back out of the subway station and I peed behind a tree. She told me that she was feeling horrible, like she was about to vomit and that it sucked that our bodies were preventing us from talking forever, which we both wanted to do. But before we parted ways I gave her my phone number and she gave me hers, and I told her that I will see her again. Then we embraced the in the warmest, most loving hug I’ve ever felt from anyone, and said goodbye.
As I went back down into the subway I couldn’t help but feel that this night was incredibly important. I learned so much about people from that experience. I didn’t think people could exist like that man with the mustache who didn’t trust me. And more importantly I had no idea that two people from different countries who didn’t even speak the same language could connect as deeply as I did with Lu.
The only thing left to do now is call her and see if she wants to meet again. I’m slightly afraid to do this but I know she’s probably more afraid and she won’t call me unless I call her first. I really don’t feel like doing it today but it would mean so much if I did. I just hope that she’s not a completely different person when she’s not drunk and will stop trusting me if I ask to see her again.
I don’t know. All I know is that the experience kindled in me some sort of Hope that’s been laying dormant for years. I guess it’s just always special when you find someone you can really bond with, especially after a long period of feeling more alone than you’ve ever been in your life.
It’s true that all of us are always alone, but that doesn’t mean we’re not constantly bound together.
16:21 Tuesday, 21 September 2004
It’s been a very emotionally confusing couple of days. I didn’t call Lu on Sunday because I was sick all day and I was very nervous about it. Then yesterday I had to deal with seeing Juliana again and all the confusion that comes along with it. I was determined to work up the nerve to call Lu, and around 15:00 I did and was quite relieved to get no answer. I spent the night drinking and suffering alone. It was quite comfortable.
Then this morning I woke up and the last thing I wanted to do was get up and go to class. I even made up my mind to just stay in bed and go in late. But I couldn’t really get back to sleep, and my mind just kept bothering me by constantly rethinking my decision, until I couldn’t take it anymore and I got up and actually made it to class 5 minutes early. And I didn’t regret it because David didn’t come and I sat in his seat, which is right next to where Juliana sits.
So for the whole morning during class I sat next to Juliana, and quite frequently she would turn to me to ask a question about something in the homework, or I would turn to ask her a question, and we exchanged words many times over the three total hours of class we spent sitting next to each other. I got to look into her eyes and see her face up close and every now and then it just felt wonderful.
But of course after every time I got that wonderful feeling my heart would sink because I know what that feeling means and it’s exactly what I don’t want to happen. But looking at her face today it was nearly impossible to deny (I only say “nearly” because nothing is impossible to deny) that I’m falling…Love…with her. At least it’s quite clear that the potential is there for my mind to focus on her as the object of my deepest desire, although I really don’t want this to happen. But I know it’s happening because when I look around at the other girls I can see that many of them are far more attractive the normal sense—there was even a new girl from the Check Republic today who looked like a supermodel—but I don’t feel any sort of emotion towards them. But sitting next to Juliana makes me nervous and excited and frustrated and ecstatic all at the same time. I know what Love feels like. It’s a lot like I felt today.
But the question is what am I to do about it? On one level it’s a good thing because it gives me inspiration and makes me feel like there’s something meaningful and in my life and all that stuff that Jessi helped me to realise. But it’s also very painful, and even moreso with Juliana than with Jessi because there’s even less of a chance of anything happening with her than with the 14 year old. Strange how the language barrier is a greater obstacle than the age barrier. Although the language barrier is something that can be overcome…but why should I spend every waking moment studying and trying to cram the language into my head when there is absolutely no guarantee that speaking better German would even help me at all. In fact there’s practically a guarantee that it won’t help me at all—the past. The conclusion. I have no chance with her or any woman at all ever. That’s the way my life works. It’s undeniable.
And what’s even more ironic is that if some strange magic does happen, and lightning strikes and I do end up with her, my entire life’s purpose is negated. It’s all about unrequited love. If this could somehow turn into the type of loving relationship I’ve been striving for my entire life, then my entire life becomes meaningless. Of course, Love in itself is the only thing with meaning, and I’d be more than willing to sacrifice this deepest part of myself…my very identity, for a shot at experiencing what it really means to share Love.
But that just can’t happen, so I’m only left with two choices—to try or not to try. To be or not to be. The same old question. Do I stick it out and wait (there’s only a week and a half left of this class) and then let her go and do my best to forget about her? Or do I not just turn my back on this and actually try to talk to her. Tell her the words that have been running through my head every time I look at her, words that I so desperately want to say to her: “Juliana, du bist sehr schön. Deiner Augen, deiner sicher, deiner Haar, alle deiner Körper. Du bist wunderschön, und auch sehr nett. Ich wunschte ich könnte Portuguesisch sprechen weil es wäre ganz einfacher zu mit dir sprechen. Aber es ist egal. Ich weiβ du fühlst nicht gleich, und nach der nächste Woche ich sehe du nicht noch einmal. Aber ich habe du weiβ das wollen.”
It sounds even stupider in translation: “Juliana, you are so beautiful. Your eyes, your face, your hair, all of your body. You are extremely beautiful, and also so nice. I wish I could speak Portuguese because it would be a lot easier to speak with you. But it doesn’t matter. I know you don’t feel the same, and after next week I will not see you again. But I wanted you to know that.”
I’m sure the actual translation is much worse and chock full of grammatical errors, but that’s the basic idea. If a speech that dumb could actually work, then I don’t know what’s prevented me from picking up girls all these years. Aber es ist egal.
This attraction can only bring me pain anyway. There’s no chance of becoming friends with Juliana like I did with Jessi, so all I can do in this situation is the old “worship from afar” routine like with Lauren. Only with the occasional bullshit exchange of words about class or some other bullshit. It feels really good for awhile, but it doesn’t take too long for my mind to reconfigure to reality and see how pointless it is.
So I still haven’t decided what to do. I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try that dumb speech one time next week when this class is nearing its end. After all I’ll never see her again after that so there won’t be the uncomfortable phase of her ignoring me and all that kind of shit. And I’ve already told her she has beautiful eyes and she doesn’t seem to care, to the odds are she won’t really care about this either. I just feel like I have to say it because…well because I’m a slave to my emotions.
Whatever. That’s all that happened today that was interesting, and probably all that will happen. I tried to call Lu again after spending ten to fifteen minutes working up the nerve to do it. It was 16:20 (a.k.a. 4:20 in the afternoon) and again she didn’t pick up and I was very relieved. Maybe I’m not letting it ring long enough. But I really have no idea what to say to her. I can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound stupid or desperate, and I don’t know whether I should try talking to her in German or just stick with the English. I guess at the bottom of it I just don’t know if she wants me to call her. We were both really drunk when we exchanged numbers, and before then she would have let me go without giving me her number at all. She seems like a very private person and I doubt she would let someone get as deep into her psyche as she let me that night unless her guard was really lowered by the alcohol and…it’s just a very confusing situation. But I really don’t feel like I can just let it go like that. It seems like I could really learn a lot from her, and I came here to learn. But then again maybe this is one of those things where it would be best to just leave it as the magical memory it is and maybe somewhere down the line we’ll happen upon each other by pure chance. Or if there is such a thing as fate, perhaps that will bring us together again. Who knows?
All this to be or not to be crap. I spent most of my life choosing the latter and only recently am I really trying to actually put myself out there and take emotional risks but so far it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Maybe instead of waiting until tomorrow to call Lu again I should just keep calling tonight until I get an answer. I just know it would hurt sooooooooooooooo bad if it doesn’t go the way I want it to. If she’s not keen on the idea of meeting again I’ll just be crushed. Crushed harder than I think even Juliana could crush me. I revealed myself my deepest innermost thoughts and feelings to this girl, and if she rejects my friendship after that it will hurt deeply. Not that once I’m feeling the pain it won’t feel deliciously real and meaningful…it’s just that my natural tendency is to do all I can to avoid that kind of pain.
But I’ve got nothing to gain by doing nothing, so I’ll keep trying. And if I must I’ll keep failing. But hopefully with all this trying and failing I’ll never stop learning.
19:38 Tuesday, 21 September 2004
Well, I called Lu again. The voice that greeted me was very deep, but I asked if it was Lu and it sounded like it said yes. I said in English that it was Kyle and we’d met on Saturday but the voice said something in German I didn’t understand. I asked if Lu was there and it sounded like it said yes again but then I said in German if I could speak to Lu and it said that there was no Lu, this was Hallee or Allee or something. So I said, “Ist das ein falsche nummer?” (is this a wrong number?) and it said yes so I said, “Ok, entschuldigung” (ok, sorry) and that was that.
And now I feel like shit. Maybe it was just a stupid mistake and she wrote down her number wrong or I typed it in wrong, but I’m not going to try again. I seriously doubt I typed it in wrong. But the fact is that now I’m definitely not going to see her again unless chance or fate makes it so. Either way I thought I’d found a friend and now I haven’t. Besides, I definitely gave her the right number for me and she hasn’t called. And she probably won’t. So that’s that.
I haven’t felt so alone since I first got here.
0:40 Friday, 24 September 2004
Well what a crazy fucking day it’s been. Fucking madness and insanity and craziness all tied together into one fucking package. Because I got the internet yesterday, and today I heard from people I haven’t heard from in awhile. I re-established contact with Jessi AND Jessie!!! That’s right, THE fucking lesbian ex-girlfriend Jessie who drove me to my suicidal conclusion and who I literally drove to a suicide attempt on that fateful prom night so long ago…
Last night I got the internet and didn’t really feel like talking to anyone so I stayed off the Instant Messenger. This morning I woke up and went to a tour of the Frankfurt Historische Museum which was so boring and pointless that I can’t even write about it. Juliana wasn’t even there, which was more disappointing than I’d have liked it to be.
But it doesn’t matter now. When I got back I got on-line and received a message from a screen-name that seemed familiar but I didn’t recognize immediately just saying “hey”. I responded “hey???” and after no response for a minute I wrote “is this jessie or is my memory fucked up” and she wrote “not fucked up” and we had a conversation that lasted a little while in which I explained to her I was in germany and she told me how she’s attending RIT (the number 5 school in the USA apparently) and she’s no longer depressed and whatnot. It was so weird to hear from her. But before the conversation could dip below the superficial level my friends buzzed me to go eat at the Thai Restaurant (Mr. Lin’s if you’re ever in Frankfurt) we discovered here.
Then I got back and started drinking my own supply of beer (on which I’m somewhat buzzed right now) and within a very short time who should come on-line but Jessi herself. And it was quite the emotional roller-coaster ride. I’ll try to recreate it for you here using the actual conversation:
cutiejessybaby25: ha heyyy
TheKemStone: what's up? haven't talked to YOU in awhile
cutiejessybaby25: haha i knoww
cutiejessybaby25: i was just respondin to ur email
TheKemStone: awesome. yeah, i just got the internet yesterday so i'm talking to all my old friends again. how've you been?
And that’s how it remained for about 20 minutes until she put up her away message and I was left wondering what the fuck had happened. I checked both my e-mail accounts but there was nothing from her so I got really depressed, smoked a cigarette and came back and started e-mailing Corey. Then she came BACK from Away for about three seconds before putting the message up again and I got even more confused. But the next time she came back from away I send her another message.
cutiejessybaby25 is away at 10:24:48 PM.
cutiejessybaby25 returned at 11:07:58 PM.
TheKemStone: what's going on?
cutiejessybaby25: gettin ready for a fball game
TheKemStone: those are fun. what position do you play?
cutiejessybaby25: haha um i dont play?
TheKemStone: really? that's a shame. they could probably use you on the team
TheKemStone: but are you a cheerleader?
cutiejessybaby25: ha not this yr i gotta focus on my studies so i quit my job for a lil bit too
cutiejessybaby25: nd rob yelled at me cuz i gave him 1weeks notice which is fine nd the 2nd week he called nd started yellin cuz he said he needed 2weeeks
TheKemStone: rob's a jerk sometimes. what can you do?
TheKemStone: if you want i'll call him tomorrow and yell at him
cutiejessybaby25: ha nah u dont have to but thanks so much for the offer
TheKemStone: i need to call them anyway about my last paycheck. it's just hard with the time diff. what time is it there anyway?
And I got no response for awhile and she put up her Away message again. And I got really depressed again so I went to get another beer and was about to go out for another cigarette when I noticed that she’d returned and sent me a message! And the rest of the conversation went like this:
cutiejessybaby25 is away at 11:31:10 PM.
cutiejessybaby25 returned at 11:46:25 PM
TheKemStone: wow. it's midnight here. i'm getting drunk on german beer. viel spass!
cutiejessybaby25: HAHAHA YESSS
TheKemStone: um vieviel uhr ist die fussball spiel?
TheKemStone: sehr gut!
cutiejessybaby25: haha ja!
cutiejessybaby25 is away at 12:03:37 AM.
cutiejessybaby25 returned at 12:06:18 AM.
TheKemStone: did you respond to my e-mail?
cutiejessybaby25: not yett
TheKemStone: ok. i actually had my craziest adventure on the night after i sent that e-mail to you. i'll explain it all in another e-mail when i'm not "under the influence"
cutiejessybaby25: haha arighty
TheKemStone: anything cool happen to you lately?
cutiejessybaby25: ummm had a bf nd he dumped me for his ex gf whos a hoe haha then i went out wit his best friend nd his best friend nd i broke up cuz he treated me like crap nd yelled at me haha
TheKemStone: who are these guys? cause if they can't tell that you're the most awesome girl in the world someone should shake them very hard until they realize it!
cutiejessybaby25: hah awee thanks!
TheKemStone: kein problem. it's the truth!
cutiejessybaby25: ha aweee
cutiejessybaby25 is away at 12:23:06 AM.
cutiejessybaby25 returned at 12:32:10 AM.
cutiejessybaby25 is away at 12:33:04 AM.
cutiejessybaby25 returned at 12:38:20 AM.
cutiejessybaby25 is away at 12:43:28 AM.
As you can see I was not the last person to send a message. She went away and came back for a couple minutes at a time every now and then but I let the conversation end on a delightful note because it’s not like I could accomplish anything more. And now I feel so overwhelmingly good after having felt so overwhelmingly bad that I can’t help but somehow think I’m doing something right.
Seriously, I can hardly describe how wonderful I feel right now. I thought at first that this was so bad. That she had read my e-mail and somehow gotten scared by it and was now too nervous to talk to me. That she was going to abandon me like everybody else in my life. But I was wrong!!! She’s still the same sweet wonderful person she was before she knew I loved her. And now she knows I love her and everything is as wonderful and comfortable as it was at the very beginning!!!
Oh my god what a fantastic life it can be if you know how to live it right. And living it right isn’t that difficult really. Just roll with all the punches (because there are going to be plenty of those) and when you see an opportunity to find something that can really make you genuinely happy, seize it and squeeze all the happiness out of it that you can because if you really feel that life is worth living then it IS!!!!!!
Thank you, Jessi, for being the most awesome girl in the world. If it weren’t for you I really would have no Hope. But Hope is Love, and Love, thy name is Jessi.
11:32 Friday, 24 September 2004
I woke up today in the best spirits I’ve woken up in for awhile. Despite the fact that I had one of…if not the most…disturbing dreams of my life. It was the night before I left for Germany and there was some sort of party going on and everyone went to sleep except for me. I was preparing myself for some food when all of a sudden everyone came back and I was surrounded by people again. I ducked away and went to the computer where I started talking to Jessi on-line.
Then it started getting strange. She called me on the phone and asked me if I was going to ask her out yet. I told her I hadn’t been planning to ask her out and she got offended. I asked her if she had wanted me to ask her out and she said she’d been waiting forever but I still haven’t done it. I explained to her that this was shocking news to me, that if I had known she would actually be willing to go out with me I might have re-thought the whole thing. But now I had to go to Germany so it didn’t matter.
And she got really mad at me. She said it was stupid of me to think that I could be friends with her if I was in Love with her. Guys can’t be friends with girls, she said, if they have feelings for each other. I told her again that I didn’t know she had feelings for me, and at some point we were no longer talking on the phone but in person. I told her that even though I loved her very much she was just too young and I wouldn’t feel right going out with her. And she told me it didn’t matter because I blew my chance anyway, and she was just going to talk to me on-line now.
So now we were no longer talking in person but on-line again and she was being very nasty and mean to me and I couldn’t handle it anymore so I went home. Then when I got home I got a call from Matt Phoenix of all people saying something terrible had happened—I’d made Jessi very upset and she had gone driving and got into an accident and now she was dying. Immediately I jumped into my car and sped away, crashing myself a few times out of extreme distress, the whole time wishing that this was a dream and none of it was really happening. But I felt like I couldn’t wake up or affect my world around me so it must be really happening, and this was horrible.
The next thing I knew I was driving with a passenger, who was also telling me that this was absolutely horrible and the worst thing that had ever happened. Because my mind was searching for a way to believe that this wasn’t real, it dawned on me that this was something I would be saying and not another person. If this was really another person they would be trying to tell me everything was all right. So I turned to him and said, “You’re not real! None of this is real! This is not happening! I’m going to wake up!” and with one giant effort of the will I pulled myself out of the deep sleep and back into the world of my room here in Frankfurt, letting my brain re-adjust to the knowledge that Jessi was perfectly fine and so was our friendship. With that peace of mind I quickly went back to sleep.
And that was that. When I woke up hours later the sun was shining and it was a beautiful day outside. I feel wonderful now that I’ve re-established contact with Jessi and I can rest assured that not only are we still friends but we can still have the kind of friendly conversations that bring so much deep, deep joy.
18:20 Monday, 27 September 2004
Well, I accomplished two of the goals I had undertaken when I got here. The first was finished on Saturday, when I visited a castle ruin as Jessi had suggested. I went with David, Justin, and Rachel by train to Herbstfest, a fall festival in Heidelburg. I guess it’s basically like Oktoberfest only smaller and with more of a Renaissance theme. When we first arrived we walked down the main pedestrian street and I was thinking I might have made a mistake by coming because there were so many people you could hardly move. But once we got off the street and onto a bridge overlooking the river and I saw the magnificent ruined Schloss (castle) I knew we might be in for something fun. It was David who suggested we go, and without any word of protest we all hiked up the huge hill to the entrance of the castle.
But when we got there we reached a point where you had to pay to go further, and nobody seemed excited about doing it. David said the rest of the castle was just more of the same (because he’d been there before) but I wanted to see it. Admission for students was only 1 Euro 20. I would be spending far more on a single glass of beer later on, and this was an experience I wanted to have, especially because Jessi herself recommended such a thing. Justin and Rachel were indifferent, so we flipped a coin and it told us not to go in. But then David said, “You really want to go?” and I said “Yes,” so we went in. Long story short, we walked around, found it to be quite beautiful and amazing, and had a damn good time. And I bought a post-card to send to Jessi to show her that I was there.
That taken care of, we proceeded back to the pedestrian street and drank lots of beer and ate Bratwurst and did lots of German-style partying. We took a night-train home and made it back just after midnight. It was a great day.
But it doesn’t even compare to what happened last night, when I accomplished my number 1 LUCID DREAMING goal. Ever since I got the internet I’ve been reading up on lucid dreaming, specifically from a website run by a guy named Steven LeBerge, the world’s leading lucid-dreaming scientist who studies lucid dreaming at Stanford University. The guy is my new hero. He believes that our dreams are far more important than we give them credit for, and the experience of lucid-dreaming, being able to shape your own destiny in your own world without any of the boundaries of the “real” world is something very important and wonderful that all humans should take advantage of. He believes that by spreading knowledge of how to have lucid dreams to all over the world may help humanity become more Aware as a whole, and help us realise we must shape our own destiny in this world as well. My kind of guy.
Anyway, I’ve been taking a lot of the suggestions that the web site has given me, including keeping a dream journal in which every time I wake up I remember the dream I was just having and jot down a quick summary of it. This helps you remember far more dreams than you usually would, and by remembering your dreams you are more likely to be able to tell you are dreaming. Also, it is possible after waking from a dream to re-insert yourself back into the dream in a lucid state (this is called a Wake-Induced Lucid Dream or WILD). One technique for this is that as soon as you wake up try to get back to sleep while visualising what had just been going on in your dream and counting in your head, “One, I’m dreaming…Two, I’m dreaming…Three, I’m dreaming, etc.”
So anyway, it’s been three days since I started my dream log and I’ve been able to record at least two dreams a night. One from the middle of the night (usually scribbled in hardly legible handwriting) and one from after waking up. Last night I had a strange dream in the middle of the night in which I bought a CD that created a hallucination of some sort of devil-beast when you played it, and it somehow turned into a dream of a prison break movie that I was both watching and participating in. This is an interesting thing because ever since I started recording my dreams I’ve noticed that this movie-watching thing is a huge recurring theme. I often feel as though I’m only watching a movie in my dream, but I keep getting sucked into the plot. Could this be because I used to believe my life was a movie and this has left a lasting impression on my subconscious? Or is it something deeper, such as an illustration of how life itself really is just a movie and your consciousness is merely the awareness of what your body does, but when you get involved and active in your life it seems as though you are actually affecting things? Who knows, but it’s interesting food for thought.
But ANYWAY after waking up from that dream and jotting it down I fell back asleep and into another movie-watching/participating dream. This one was a horror movie and Jessi was in it. I found myself fearing for her life, but when I started participating in it I knew that I would keep her safe because I would gladly die for her if she got into any danger. There was one particularly strange part when I was sitting next to her at a table with a bunch of other people and someone revealed that she was pregnant. Everyone thought the child was mine because they somehow knew I had feelings for her, but I knew it wasn’t because I’d never had sex with her, let alone anybody. The odd part is I wasn’t too upset that she was having a child.
But I woke up from that dream and with Jessi in my head I realised that if I could somehow get back to the dream while realising I was dreaming I could make something happen with her finally. So I laid back down and visualised the dream and counted in my head, telling myself I was dreaming with each number. As the numbers got higher and higher I could actually notice my conscious mind slipping away as it became “25 I’m dreawming…26 I’m dreaming…57…I’m dreaming…22 I’m dreaming…89…46…” until I was no longer conscious of any numbers.
But what I returned to was nothing like the previous dream, nor was I completely aware it was a dream. I was in Germany in a field in the middle of the night with a bunch of people I don’t know. It was some sort of (very bizarre) anti-Bush protest as I recall the others saying. But we were just walking through this field at night shining red laser-pointers onto the trees as though this was somehow a political statement. About halfway through the field we saw a rainbow in the sky, which was quite odd because it was the middle of the night. And the rainbow actually reflected our lasers, which I also knew to be odd. As I got closer to the rainbow I could see where it actually met the ground. This was the end of the rainbow and walking a bit further I actually walked around it to the other side. The other people didn’t follow me, as they seemed to believe what I was doing was impossible. I also knew that this was an impossible situation, and it became even more impossible as the rainbow itself started shrinking. I yelled to the people, “this is amazing, come in here!” because now I was in a room completely surrounded by walls of rainbow colour, constantly changing like a fluid. But nobody came, and I now had no doubt in my mind that this could only be a dream.
Perhaps I woke up briefly at this point, but I don’t remember. There was definitely some conscious thinking, as I realised now was my chance to bring Jessi into it. I’d never attempted such a difficult task in such a strange situation, but I knew that in this world there was nothing preventing me from pulling a person out of thin air. So from inside the rainbow room on this field in the middle of the night, I reached through the wall and pictured myself taking a girl’s hand. I pulled the hand through the wall and a woman came through, but it was not Jessi. I thought for a moment that what I was attempting might be impossible, and the dream kept shaking because my mind seemed to be trying to wake up. But the will of my lucid subconscious overruled the will of my mind and I closed my eyes and imagined that it was Jessi’s hand that I was holding. When I opened them it was somebody else but still not Jessi, and the dream shook again. But I closed my eyes once again and tried to just concentrate on the feeling of the hand I was holding, forcing myself to believe that this really was Jessi and getting as clear and image of her in my mind as I could. And when I opened my eyes, lo and behold, there was Jessi with me in this magical rainbow room, looking as beautiful and as real as ever.
The dream shook again as I was shocked at my success. I could have woken up right there but I knew I’d come too far to blow this opportunity. So without a word I immediately pulled her to me and kissed her on the face, closing my eyes and focussing completely on the sensation of my lips against her skin. It was magic! She began to kiss me back and as I opened my eyes I could see our reflection in the rainbow wall. We kissed passionately, the sensation so real that it didn’t even matter that I knew this was only a dream. The feeling of her tongue against mine, the sound of our lips puckering against each other, the sight of our reflection, locked in a loving embrace, and the taste…it was real enough for me. It was pure, absolute, ecstatic bliss and joy, everything that kissing her in real life could be…but it was so much more.
Such a situation could never be as beautiful in real life. If I were to kiss Jessi all sorts of worrisome thoughts would be plaguing my mind. I would worry that I wasn’t doing it well enough for her, that someone might be judging me for kissing a 14-year-old, that she would get tired before I would and we would have to stop…but this…this was a creation of my own mind. In a setting so beautiful that it could never be recreated on earth, and there was no guilt and no worry. This ideal, dream Jessi is the perfect Jessi that I am in love with, and I was able to share my love with her in such a real, physically and emotionally satisfying sense. It was absolutely unbelievable. No amount of words can truly describe how perfect and amazing it was. Like having gone for my entire life longing for one thing and finally being able to make it happen, even if it was only in the ideal world created by my mind.
But as I’ve said many times before, all we know of other people are the ideas and perceptions we have of them. This ideal Jessi I was perceiving is just as real as the perception I have of the Jessi I know in my waking life, only that perception is subject to data I receive from the senses. This one is created purely out of my own mind, simulating the senses but in such a real and convincing way that it doesn’t matter whether the world I was in came from outside me or inside me. It was beautiful and perfect and eternally lasting. Absolutely wonderful.
So after kissing for a sufficient eternity I started floating around with her and enjoying the company of her dream-image until I woke up. And then I couldn’t get back to sleep, not that I really wanted to. I was perfectly content to lie in bed and ponder the joy of what had just taken place. I made sure to go over every detail over and over again, and write down the basic plot-summary of the dream. Also while lying in bed an idea came to me for a revision of Andromeda which will incorporate an idea far more profound than anything I managed to work into the first version. So I decided I will have to re-write it again and use this idea, although I don’t know when that will be. But once it’s written for the third time, especially with this idea, it will be so good and ground-breaking that there’s almost no chance it won’t be published. So I feel good about that.
And the hours rolled by and soon it was time to get up an go to class. I took my time doing so, knowing I was going to have to see Juliana again for the first time in almost a week but not really caring. It was raining and nasty but as I made my way to class I felt such a sense of profound inner happiness that nothing could bother me. Even for the first extremely boring hour and a half of class I felt happy, looking at Juliana’s beautiful face and not being bothered in the least by the fact that it’s unreachable in this world. The next time I lucid dream I can just pull her out of the ground and experience the joy of kissing my ideal image of her.
But then we took our half-our break and I sat down at a table with David, Rachel, and Justin. I was explaining to David how I’d woken up at 5:00 in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep but I got up at 8:00 and took my sweet time to get to class so I was fifteen minutes late, and Justin said, “that’s the worst story I’ve ever heard.” I shook it off as I usually do when he’s being an asshole, but then I made the mistake of informing them the reason I couldn’t get back to sleep was because I’d finally succeeded in my lucid-dreaming mission. David didn’t remember what that was and Justin said, “Ever since he got here he’s been talking about lucid dreaming. It’s when you know you’re dreaming while you’re dreaming. I learned about it in psychology class last year. It was very boring.”
And I said, “Lucid dreaming is one of the best things you can do, thinking of Steven LeBerge’s arguments but not being able to repeat them because I was, after all, very tired.
And he said, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
And this pissed me off so I said, “Well, then you’re just an idiot,” which is the meanest thing I’ve ever said to him and the first time in years that I can recall actually verbally expressing my anger towards another person.
And he said, “Is lucid dreaming better than drinking awesome German beer on the streets of Heidelburg?”
And I said, “Definitely.”
And he turned to David and said, “Should we kill him now or when we get home.”
And I decided there was no point in speaking any more so I didn’t say anything for the rest of the break. Every good thing I’ve thought about Justin is now wiped away. There’s just no need to be that much of an asshole. He succeeded in bringing me down off one of the highest highs I’d ever managed to achieve. There can be no forgiving him.
So I sat there and thought about how I hate these fucking people and I have no friends in this country and the only person I have managed to connect with is lost and gone forever after only one night of deep conversation. Oh Lu, where are you when I need you? And it was of surprisingly little comfort to think that at least I could be respected in my dreams. The thought seemed kind of pathetic. After all, respect from characters in your dreams is only self-respect, and that only gets you as far as yourself. If others choose not to respect you there’s nothing you can do about it.
But anyway, I was too tired to be boiling with rage and I spent the rest of the day looking at Juliana and imagining how wonderful it will be when I can bring her into a dream and share my passion with her. She sat right across the table from me in our last class, and because I handed her two sheets that were being passed by she said, “Danke schön” to me twice. Which was somehow enough to cancel out the foul mood Justin had put me in. It’s amusing to think that she says “Danke schön” when I had her a piece of paper but when I tell her she has beautiful eyes she says, “Warum?”
There’s nothing else to say about today. The best experience of my dreams followed by standard, typical waking-life bullshit. Story of my life.
16:54 Friday, 01 October 2004
Well, it’s been a pretty uneventful week in both my dreams and my waking life. The most significant thing I did was just accomplished a minute ago as I finally sent Jessi a package. I purchased a package kit yesterday from the post-office and spent quite awhile figuring it out and shopping for its contents, spending not a modest sum of money on a variety of the Swiss chocolate I know she loves, some German chocolate, and a cute little Teddy bear with a candy necklace attached to it. I included a postcard from the castle in Heidelberg with a message in German thanking her for the suggestion of visiting a castle, and a hand-written letter in which I very sweetly express my appreciation of her friendship. If her heart doesn’t melt when she gets it…then I’ve misjudged her once again. I just sent it today, and it cost 12 Euros and 30 cents just to deliver. I feel it’s the best money I’ve spent so far. Whatever her reaction is when she gets it (and hopefully she will get it) at least I feel good about myself right now. If it makes her the least bit happy then I’ve done the best thing I can do in this world.
But other than that, this week has been rather pointless. Going to class, eating at restaurants, going to the Zoo, not learning German…standard bullshit. Last night I woke up at 3:00 (or at least what I thought was 3:00) to watch the presidential debate. It turns out that my clock was an hour behind and I only caught the last half-hour. I figured it was because I hadn’t factored in daylight-savings but I realised later that daylight savings hasn’t happened yet. I only discovered it was a malfunction of my clock when I arrived to class this morning thinking I was five minutes early when really I was fifty-five minutes late. Not that there were any negative repercussions for that. I was marked as present on the attendance and went through my last day of the awful experience that was the Intensive German class.
But I’m jumping ahead. After watching the presidential debate, in which my respect for Kerry grew slightly and my disdain for Bush remained at its all-time high, I tried to get back to sleep and as usual, this was no easy task. I finally succeeded in entering sleep at about 6:00 (which was actually 7:00) and proceeded to have the most outrageous lucid dream I’ve ever had. Outrageous because the lucidity lasted so long but it wasn’t very strong. I became aware I was dreaming in some crazy situation where a bunch of people were after me and in order to stop them I had to kill them, either by creating explosions or shooting them with a shotgun. Then because I haven’t had any sexual release in…ever…I figured I might as well test out the whole sex experience in my dreams, which is the only way I’ll ever experience. Luckily I had the sense not to try it on anybody I loved, because that would create a lot of guilt, but the best person my stupid dreaming mind could come up with was Britney Spears. So I embarked on my first ever wet-lucid dream by spinning around until I was in a bedroom with the pop-singer whom I despise but like any normal red-blooded American and hopelessly turned on by. I talked to her for a bit first, making sure she was ok with it, and she had no objections because, after all, she wasn’t real. So I started kissing her and in that act alone quickly became so aroused that I had to insert myself into her far sooner than expected and proceed with the orgasm. This was quite the amusing experience because my brain had to simulate the feeling of sex having never actually experienced it. So for a split second I felt something like I imagine sex must feel like, but it was hardly a concrete feeling and after almost no time at all it simply felt like I was ejaculating in my pants, which I was fully aware was the actual situation. When it was done Britney and I exchanged a few more words, and she was surprisingly nice about the whole thing. I think she even offered to try it again sometime, but all I could think of was that I had to wake up and clean myself off. But when she left a bunch of other people came in and told me this was a bad idea. That I should just continue sleeping and worry about it later. But I didn’t like the idea of continuing to dream with all this sticky semen in my pants, so I woke up and cleaned myself off. Or so I thought. I actually just dreamed the process of waking up and cleaning myself off. The dream continued after that but I don’t really remember what happened afterwards. When my alarm woke me up at 8:00 (which was actually 9:00) I realised that I hadn’t cleaned up after all, and had to laugh at myself, not only for this strange self-deception but for choosing Britney Spears of all people to lose my dream-virginity to. I couldn’t have chosen someone I at least have respect for?
But anyway, it’s over now and I don’t think I’ll be trying that again anytime soon. While my brain has the feeling of kissing imprinted on it (albeit from only a handful of experiences from a very long time ago) it still has no idea what sex feels like so it’s impossible to really simulate it. Which I suppose is a good thing in spite of how pathetic it is. For whatever reason (if a reason exists at all) I’m not supposed to experience sex in this lifetime, so why should I be able to experience in my dreams, even the ones that I can control?
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is hopefully the most sexually explicit journal entry you’ll ever have to read by me.
But anyway, today I forgot all about that little dream-comedy and accomplished what I’ve been meaning to do since I got here: send a gift to Jessi. I did this at great expense of course. I didn’t have much money to start with today, and when I got to the bank it was closed so I had to draw money from my US account which had only $23 in it. I could only withdraw 10 Euros, and with the money I already had and the expense of shipping I now have only a little more that 5 Euros. Which wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the fact that it’s a holiday weekend and the bank will probably not be open tomorrow. So I have to either make it through the whole weekend without spending any money, or call my parents and have them deposit the money that they should have deposited by now anyway into my account. But I think they’re leaving for Vegas today, and if that’s the case and I’ve already missed them, I’m in a little bit of trouble. But whatever. This is stupid bullshit, and it’s completely worth the feeling of deep satisfaction I have for doing something that will most likely bring a smile to Jessi’s beautiful face, even though I wont’ be able to see it.
I just hope she doesn’t have the completely opposite reaction of what I desire, and tell me not to send her anything again. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who wouldn’t appreciate my gesture though. But if she does tell me to stop sending her things, I’m going to have to consider killing myself because that will be tantamount to the worst rejection I’ve ever received. Hopefully this is just a groundless fear.
Anyway I’m looking forward to a meaningless weekend, with lots of meaningless events which may bring me a bit of fun but no deep satisfaction. Only Love can bring me the kind of satisfaction I’m looking for, and Love just happens to be thousands of miles away and very bad at keeping in touch with me. Not that I expected any better. I didn’t even expect it to keep in touch at all.
And speaking of Love, today was the last day I will see Juliana and I have successfully warded off what could have been Love. On Tuesday night I heard her talking about a party and my evil heart kept trying to convince me to go, but luckily my mind won out on this one and I kept her out of my mind. On Thursday I didn’t even go to class because I was woken up at 3:00 Wednesday morning by a loud party going on in my floor which lasted until 6:30. I didn’t get back to sleep until it was finally over, and when my alarm woke me up at 8:00 I knew there was no way in hell I could make it to class. And I only saw her for a half an hour today because she skipped the second part of the day, so I think it’s safe to say I won’t see her again. So goodbye the Brazilian beauty with Jessi’s eyes…a testament to my ability to not fall in love if I so choose. This may not be the best example; I was only projecting my love for Jessi onto her, but love can grow out of such projections anyway. It’s another piece of evidence to confirm the hypothesis that I don’t choose whom I fall in love with but once I find myself falling in love I can choose whether to embrace or ignore it. Again, not the best example because I knew I would only have to deal with her for four weeks. If I had gone to more social events involving her, or if I would still see her now that the course is over, it could probably have easily turned into Love in spite of my extreme lack of desire for it to do so.
And that is my pathetic life in Germany so far. I really need to start learning German, to go out and meet new people and experience things. To start writing again (although it’s incredibly difficult with such a lack of inspiration) and to study more philosophy and further develop my ideas. I’ll just excuse this month as a period of settling in, and start making it a habit of not waking up ridiculously early in the morning as this course forced me to do thus making me far to tired to do anything for the rest of the day. Now I can take control of my life once again (when the courses begin I can make my own schedule which is most conducive to my interests) and hopefully rediscover myself in the sort of profound way I’ve been looking for.
17:22 Saturday, 02 October 2004
Well, I completely blew it last night when I send Jessi an IM when she came on-line. The conversation was so short and pathetic that it sent me right down to the worst depths of depression. I couldn’t just remain in my happy state of mind from sending her that package. I had to go and try and have a conversation with her and be faced with the blaring question of whether it was wise to send her that package anyway. In the letter I sent her I expressed such a deep appreciation of her friendship and told her she deserves far more than I could ever give her and whatnot. But seriously, how good of a friend is she when she says she’s responding to my e-mail and never does, then hardly talks to me at all when I try to have a conversation with her? It’s just frustrating.
So I drank the 4 beers that I had to try and kill the pain, but 4 beers is not nearly enough. When they were gone I roamed the streets looking for an open place or a bar that would sell me more alcohol but there weren’t any in the nearby vicinity. So I stayed up reading a depressing existentialism website and having a short, unsatisfying IM conversation with a girl I knew in high school. I went to sleep at 4:00 and woke up at 1:00, then went to the bank to get money and to the supermarket to get food and plenty of beer. Then I went for a walk in the park while listening to The Division Bell, which was pretty enjoyable but would have been a lot more enjoyable if I wasn’t getting nasty looks from Germans every time they passed by and it wasn’t running through my head how inherently meaningless the whole fucking life is.
Man, I wish I could just flick a switch and be fluent in German. I thought after a month I’d be much better than this, but practicing is so hard and I’m a social phobic anyway so trying to hang out and converse with the Germans on my floor is doubly difficult. I hardly understand anything they say because they speak so much slang and so quickly. And when they get frustrated by my constant lack of understanding they just revert to English and nothing gets accomplished. Whatever.
Next weekend I’m going down to Ichenheim to visit my family once again, so that should be interesting even if it is nightmarish. Not only do I not speak German, but neither do they. They speak a crazy dialect that bears almost no resemblance to German at all, so I don’t know how valuable an experience that will be. At least I don’t have to worry about them getting angry and frustrated with me. It’ll be nice to have delicious free-cooked meals and delicious FREE beer so it shouldn’t be that bad.
In the meantime I have no idea what to do with myself this week. I should probably just try to hang out with the Germans and practice my german, so I guess that’s what I’ll be attempting to do. As far as taking advantage of this time off and travelling around and seeing places, I would either have to go alone or with Justin (whom I hate) and all his loser friends who are currently visiting. They’re in Stuttgart today, and I had no desire to go with them. I don’t have any desire to go anywhere with them. So what am I supposed to do? I guess I could just buy a ticket to Amsterdam and head over there by myself but I’m not too keen on travelling too far from here alone. You never know what could go wrong and I would have no way to get in touch with anyone if something does.
So I feel trapped and worthless. There are even tiny seeds of regret for even coming here in the first place. But of course I don’t take those seriously. Even when it sucks and I feel like this is horrible and I’m not having any fun and nobody respects me I still know it’s worth it. Whatever it means for an experience to be “worthwhile” when in the end all experiences are equally worthless.
Oh, Jessi, why do you have to be such a stupid bitch? Yet still be such a nice, beautiful, wonderful person? But still only 14 goddamn years old. I wish I could just flick a switch that would make you grow up and be on the same maturity level as I am. But whatever. Eventually we’ll lose contact and I’ll be left with nothing but my miserable pathetic lonely life. You know, it’s not ourselves but others who define us. Which completely sucks ass, by the way, because others can’t even begin to understand who we really are or what we’re really like. When I die I’ll be defined as a man who tried to be a writer but never wrote anything good enough, never had any real friends, and never accomplished anything important to speak of. Just another assemblage of cells to carry out the pointless process of life until death. Only this assemblage of cells was never loved by anyone, and never passed on its DNA to future generations. Just a complete waste of a life.
15:49 Sunday, 03 October 2004
My life may be a waste, but at least I get to feel complete utter happiness sometimes. After writing that entry I decided I had nothing better to do, so I wrote Jessi another e-mail and sent it. I told her briefly about the park experience and about Justin the asshole and not learning German and whatnot, then I gave her a very brief account of the adventure I had a couple weeks ago with Lu and the mustached cocaine dealer. At the end of the e-mail I told her I’d be very happy to see another e-mail from her in my inbox, even if it was just a sentence long, “But do what you want to do. I’ll keep in touch.”
When I logged into my e-mail account today I had absolutely NO expectation to find anything from her, but lo and behold there was a response sitting right there in my inbox like a gift from Heaven. Not only did she respond, but she responded the same day she got it! Completely unexpected.
But what an e-mail it was! In response to the fact that I met someone I really connected with and lost touch immediately she expressed how awful it must have felt and that she would cry if that happened to her. So that was TWO sentences but she went ON after that, telling me bullshit about her life…the kind of bullshit I’ve been dying to hear! Nothing is going on but she’s doing well in school and is excited about the upcoming homecoming dance, which her ex-boyfriend may ask her to but she’ll probably just go with her friends. Then she told me she was sorry to cut the e-mail short but she had to go shopping for a homecoming dress. She concluded by telling me not to worry about the “dumb girls” because I “deserve the best.” She signed it, “Love Always, Jess”.
So needless to say I feel wonderful right now. Absolutely joyfully great. I have no regrets about sending her that package anymore, because she really does deserve everything in it and more. And I have almost no doubt anymore that she will appreciate it when she gets it and will send me a very fond thank you, which will most certainly send me into one of the greatest moods I’ve ever felt.
I shouldn’t get so upset over her. If she’s slightly unresponsive on IM or takes awhile to respond to my e-mails that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to talk to me. She’s just busy and has a very full social life, which is something I can’t really comprehend. There’s no reason to feel anything but good about my situation with her. After all, I worked very hard to make this ideal situation a reality. I was convinced time and time again that such a friendship was impossible and we would never be keeping in touch once I left for Germany. But here I am, one month into the experience and our friendship is still going strong! She’s still out there, still continuing to inspire me and make me feel that deep ultimate joy that only Love can.
17:20 Wednesday, 06 October 2004
Well, I’ve been riding that wave of happiness for all it was worth. It’s really been amazing. With just one tiny little e-mail from Jessi I’ve had something great in the back of my mind to keep me from sinking into any sort of depressed state of mind. The fact that the past few days have been sunny and beautiful hasn’t been much of a hindrance to my good spirits either, as well as the fact that I’ve got two weeks to do whatever the hell I want here in Europe. Today my mood kind of levelled out as the weather turned to grey skies and rain, but I’m far from depressed.
I haven’t been doing much the past few days. Just a blend of internet surfing, e-mail writing, walking in the park, and shopping for food and beer. Last night Justin, David, Rachel and I went to the park from about 22:00 to midnight and drank and played on the playground and had a pretty fun time. Justin was actually rather nice, perhaps because he’s spent the past five days with his friends from America, who apparently suck and complain about everything, not to mention being rude Americans who don’t even try to speak German and made Justin feel that he was like their mother. Last night was his 21st birthday, and I’d be depressed as hell if all I did was go to a park and take a few shots with some people I hardly know, but he seemed in pretty good spirits, probably because his friends all left for Amsterdam and he was finally getting to sleep in a room by himself again. We’ll probably go to Amsterdam next week, as well as Belgium and Luxembourg if the plans work out.
But this weekend I’m making my triumphant return to Ichenheim, and I’m starting early. Tomorrow I’m getting on a train and I should be in Offenburg around 16:00 where one of my distant family members whom I met in May will pick me up. Then I’ll sleep at Dieter’s house. I don’t remember if I mentioned him at all in my last journal but he’s just a jolly old German who takes extreme pleasure at accommodating guests. His cooking is fantastic and he’s got quite the alcohol supply. Plus his guest room is in the basement and it has its own bathroom and shower, so that will be even sweeter than here.
But the best part is that on Saturday night, the adults will be planning a party so they “won’t have time for me.” As a result, they actually asked a bunch of the local youth if they wouldn’t mind “keeping me occupied” that night, and there were two very excited volunteers. They remember me from Rheinfest. One of them is Julia Bläsi. The same Julia whom I spent so much time writing about in my last journal, the drunk girl who seemed interested in me at Rheinfest and then seemed disinterested in me on my following encounters with her when she was sober. I’d written her off, figured I’d never see her again and she’d only been interested in me when she was drunk because…well, alcohol does that kind of thing. But apparently I was wrong because she wants to see me again.
I’m not entirely certain what to make of it. After all, I wasn’t all that interested in her…it was just the fact that somebody seemed interested in me at a time I was convinced that such a thing was completely impossible…and I don’t really have any desire for a relationship with her or even to kiss her. I’m not the kind of guy to just play around with girls anyway, and Julia’s not my type. Blonde hair, blue eyes, somewhat of a large ass. Nope, not really interested. I guess it’s just that knowing she’s interested is somewhat of an ego-boost. Which I guess makes me a jackass. She is cute though. If we somehow get as drunk as we both were last time…
But no, nothing is going to happen and I know it. I’m just happy because what I had thought was a sorry little story in my history with girls now has a positive spin. If that’s wrong, then my ideas on morality are hopeless warped anyway. Surely it’s not more wrong than being in Love with a 14-year-old when you’re 20.
Speaking of Jessi, I sent her another e-mail today describing the Julia story and responding to her comments about school and homecoming. I told her that if a guy she barely knows asks her to dance, she should do me a favour and dance with him. So I’m doing my part to spare some poor high school boy a lot of heartache should that scenario actually take place. And I also told her I’d like to see her homecoming dress and if she could I’d like her to send me some pictures. I took a little risk and said, “I don’t have any pictures of you anyway and it might be nice to have a reminder of how stunningly beautiful you are.” Unless I’ve completely misjudged her (as I often feel I have) this is a safe comment and she’ll be sure to take it the right way. As for whether or not she’ll actually send me pictures…who knows? If she doesn’t, whatever. If she does, it’ll be too awesome to describe. Not only will I have pictures of her, which in itself would be great, I’d know that she’s willing to send pictures of herself to me, which in many ways is far better than simply having the pictures. But I’m not getting my hopes up. She’s been known to disappoint me.
And that, ladies and gents, is the shit that’s been on my mind.
1:57 Sunday, 10 October 2004
Well, it’s time for another drunken, depressed, angry entry. My favourite kind of entry. Yes, I’m very drunk, and very very depressed, and also very angry. Let’s see how this turns out. Hopefully when you read this you’ll be depressed too, and it will make you laugh. Because if you’re not depressed, if you’re happy, then hopefully it will bring you down…down to the depths that you were in when you wrote this fucking entry…you who are the only person who could possibly be reading this: ME—at a later date.
Well, I made it to Ichenheim, as you know, and I’ve had a lot of fun here. Dieter, Ursel, Myriam, and Ralf have been excellent hosts. There is so much beer to be drunken here, and so much Spaβ to be habt. But you know that. This entry is not about the meaningless, drunken fun I’ve had here with my family—it’s about the horrible, furchtabar night I’ve just experienced.
I guess I’m drunker than I thought I was. Congratulations to yourself on the amazing spelling ability. If it weren’t for all the rambling you would never be able to tell how drunk you were when you wrote this.
But anyway, the saga of Julia Bläsi has come to its full fruition tonight, as it was absolutely confirmed that she has no interest in me…nor I in her. When the rest of the family left, at 5:30 in the afternoon I remained in the house alone and had a nice Abendessen for myself. Then a little before 7:00 there was a phone call. I didn’t pick up the phone because I was expecting Melanie to come to the door, and the phone is only supposed to ring once when there is someone at the door (the doorbell makes the phone ring, in case you’re NOT me and you’re reading this). But a few minutes later it rang once and I went to the door and it wasn’t Melanie, it was someone I didn’t recognize, a beautiful, beautiful, ganz schön young woman who seemed very nervous and talked to me in English. She said she tried calling but nobody picked up but she and a few friends were going out tonight and she wanted to pick me up at 8:00. I talked to her in German, and she complimented my speaking ability, and I told her I’d be ready at 8:00 and she left. For the next hour I was very nervous…I couldn’t believe how nervous this girl was. It was Simone, by the way, one of the other girls I met at Rheinfest but whom I did not remember so well. She was far more beautiful than the girl I pictured, and I thought it was absolutely incredible that she was so nervous talking to me, which I misinterpreted as her being interested in me.
Anyway, when 8:00 came she rang again and I departed with her in her car to a bar. At this bar I was expecting to find Julia, ready with a warm welcome for me, but nobody was there yet. However, it’s such a small town that everybody knows each other so there was a table where one guy was sitting alone, drinking a beer. We sat at the table and she introduced me and then we sat for awhile in awkward silence. He asked me a few simple questions and I answered although I didn’t understand much of what he said. Finally, Julia arrived.
And it was one of the biggest disappointments of my life. All she said to me was “Hallo” and then she sat down. That was it. And she was faaaaaaaaaaaar less attractive than my memory gave her credit for. Nevertheless, it was quite unreal to be sitting next to this girl who made such a large impact on my memory—the only girl who had ever acted INTERESTED in me since…since before I can currently remember. But it became clear rather quickly that she was not interested in me at all anymore. My assumptions on the last night of Rheinfest had been correct…she was only “interested” in me because she was extremely drunk and I kept giving her cigarettes and buying her beer. Because she certainly wasn’t drunk then and she certainly had nothing to say to me. She clearly didn’t give a shit.
Beyond the burst of my tiny ego-bubble it wasn’t so bad. I merely re-confirmed what I already knew: nobody is interested in me. But then a bunch of other girls showed up and they drank soda while I drank beer. We played a couple of stupid card games and I tried to understand what they said to each other because I sure as hell couldn’t understand what they were saying. Then we left to go to a party in Offenburg.
And, “ladies and gents” I have discovered Hell. It is a music club in Offenburg called the “Music Club Offenburg”. There were four of us: the outrageously beautiful Simone, the not-so-beautiful other girl with dark brown hair, and the somewhat beautiful other girl with blonde hair. Julia, incidentally, didn’t come. Apparently she had something else to do. Or something. But this definitely sealed the nail in the coffin of the apparent “interest” she had in me on that fateful night in May.
But anyway, the club was so crowded that you couldn’t stand anywhere without fifteen people elbowing by you per second. It cost almost 5 Euros just to get in, and 50 cents to drop off your coat. Once this business was taken care of we sat at one of the bars and I thought we’d be getting drinks, but the three girls just sat there talking to each other and checking their cellphones every few minutes. After awhile the blonde shouted something in my ear (because it was so loud you couldn’t hear unless someone shouted in your ear) and I didn’t understand a word. The Simone got up and shouted in my ear and I heard something about it not being as good as they remember and they were considering leaving and going to a smaller bar. Which was absolutely fine by me. But they just sat back down and we sat there for what seemed like an eternity, drinking nothing, doing nothing, absolutely nothing happening, until finally we got up to leave. And while we left all the girls kept bumping into people they know and before I knew it we were still in that fucking place, getting bumped into by rude, drunken German teenagers ever couple of seconds.
Then finally we made it outside, where it was raining, thundering, and lightninging. And they debated where to go for about a half and hour until finally we got in a couple of cars and drove to another part of Offenburg where we parked, waited outside in the rain for the other car to park for well over fifteen minutes, then walked through the rain to another bar, where they all ordered no-alcoholic beverages and I got myself two beers. They talked to each other in German the whole time, and one of the girls, a particularly amazingly beautiful one named Tanya (or something) whom I remembered from Rheinfest talked about going to America next week. So she actually talked to me a bit, but after everything I said everyone laughed at me. I just drank my beer and smoked a couple of cigarettes and offered cigarettes to whomever wanted one. I only gave away three of them, one to Simone.
When everyone was finished we paid and left, and when we got back to the car they turned on the radio and listened to what was going on in the club. We drove back there and Shania fucking Twain was playing my least favourite song of all time “I Feel Like a Woman” and the girls were talking about how the music was better now and they wanted to go back inside. I asked them if anyone was going back home because I had no Lust whatsoever to go back into that club, and Simone said she would drive me home while the other two girls got out and went back inside. On the ride home Simone tried to talk to me and I tried to talk to her but we didn’t get very far. It was obvious that she wasn’t interested in me…nobody was…and even if she had been the least bit interested in me when she volunteered to take me along on their Saturday night adventure, she was no longer interested and most likely regretted it.
The last thing I did was apologize for being so boring, then she said some incomprehensible German things, to which my only reply was “Ja, ja, ja,” and she dropped me off. If I ever see her or any of those amazingly beautiful German girls again, I will be shocked. Shocked, I tell you.
For tonight I learned a very valuable lesson. The same lesson I’ve learnt over and over again and am doomed to continue learning again and again until that sweet day when death comes to take me away: There Is No Hope.
The only Hope in life comes when you lie to yourself. To live is to lie. The only Truth in Life is Death. And thank God for death. You know where you stand when the most comforting thought you can conjure up is that one day you will die. But right now, that is what I’m feeling. I wasn’t so drunk when I got back here, but after a delicious Schwarzbier, a couple of cigarettes, and a good, long, thinking session I realised how fucking wasted and depressed I am. You’ve got to come down sometimes, and I’ve been feeling too good for too long. Now I have confirmed once again that no matter how many unbelievably beautiful women there are in this world, I don’t have a chance with any of them. And it’s even harder when they don’t fucking speak your language. What the fuck am I supposed to do? I can’t talk to them about anything. Nothing interesting anyway, so they have no desire to talk to me. When the one ridiculously beautiful girl talked to me I had to ask her to clarify a few times before I even got the gist of what she was saying, and when I responded the only response I got was laughter. When you’re the only man in a group of more than five females, four of whom are very attractive, and absolutely none of them are talking to you or even seem the least bit interested in you…well, that has a certain effect on your ego. And believe it or not, it’s not a positive one. So fuck me and fuck my ever thinking that there could actually be women in this world who are interested in me.
Julia was not interested in me. Lots of alcohol tricked her into thinking she was, and now I know that beyond any doubt. God knows why Simone volunteered to take me out tonight, but even if she thought at one point that she was interested in me she certainly isn’t now. Nobody is interested in me, nor has anyone ever been, nor will anyone ever bee. In der Presenz, in der Zukunft, und in der Vergangenheit…kein Interressiert. Nichts. Gar fucking nichts.
Anyway, I could keep going about how much my life sucks, but I’m too drunk and too tired, and I’ve got a lot more drinking and smoking to do. Maybe if I can smoke a few thousand cigarettes a day from now on, I’ll be dead by the end of the month. Because death would be…so very wonderful. I would love to die, even if there’s no afterlife…ESPECIALLY if there’s no afterlife. Because if there really is no point to living…then what’s the fucking point? I might as well die and end the misery. Just because life is interesting doesn’t mean it’s worth putting up with all this bullshit, constantly striving for and desiring the one thing that life just can’t offer you: significance. Either to the whole human race, or just one fucking person. One woman whom I Love. To be significant. Nein, das ist unmöglich. I will never be significant, and that’s why I’m the only person who will ever be reading this journal entry. And I hope that you, who is almost certainly me, realise this, and understand that you’ve been doing something horrible wrong if you’re still alive to read this shit. End it now, asshole. Why continue reading when you KNOW damn well what comes in the next entry, and the next, and the next? Bullshit after bullshit. There may be a happy entry here and there but you KNOW deep down inside that it’s all meaningless. The only Hope in your life comes from lying to yourself. You’re just not GOOD enough for anything or anybody. You’re worthless, useless, and just a complete waste of oxygen. There are people in this world who don’t CARE about life’s meaning; who aren’t bothered by the fact that nothing they do matters. Those people are called, “sexually active people” and you will NEVER be one of them. And since the only “purposes” in life are to stay alive and reproduce, and you will never reproduce, what’s the point in staying alive? If you still think you’re going to grow up to be someone great and significant, you should just stop, smell the fucking roses and realise how goddamn wrong you are. None of this matters…this journal…this experience…this whole fucking life. You are completely worthless, and you’d be doing everyone a favour if you would just jump off a fucking cliff, or hop in your car and drive very quickly down the wrong side of the highway. So stop reading this and go do it, you fucking worthless bastard. Nobody wants you here, ESPECIALLY me. So die. Please. Now.
13:09 Monday, 11 October 2004
I just wrote an e-mail to Corey which describes Saturday night in a far better, more detailed, less drunken manner. Since that night will live on in my memory forever and deserves to be documented in full detail, I will include that account of the night here:
Saturday night rolled around, and the girls from the town who volunteered to pick me up came and took me out. I was alone in the house waiting for a word from them when the doorbell rang at 7:00. I answered it and it was the most stunningly gorgeous German girl I may have ever seen. Her name was Simone, and she told me what the plans were for the evening--to go to a bar in Ichenheim and then to a club in the nearby small city, Offenburg. She would come pick me up an hour later, at 8:00. She spoke to me in English until I responded in German, and she seemed extremely nervous, blushing when she saw me. I misinterpreted this as a sign that she found me attractive. As I later came to realise she was probably just nervous because she was afraid her English might not have been good enough for me.
So 8:00 rolled around and the whole time I was very nervous wondering how I was supposed to deal with an extremely beautiful girl who found me attractive. But when she came to pick me up it seemed that all of her nervousness had dissolved, and she took me in her car to the bar on the outskirts of the town. I expected to find the other girls who would be coming along waiting for us at the bar, but we were the first ones there. And as this was an extremely small town and every person knows everybody else, she found someone she knew right away and sat at a table with HIM. Immediately my bubble began to deflate. She introduced me to the guy, who has a weird name I don't remember that starts with a P. He asked me the standard, where are you from? what do you study? how long are you staying in Germany? questions, which I clumsily answered because they were in weird-dialect form, and then I sat there for awhile while the two of them spoke to each other and I tried to understand what they were saying but couldn't decipher more than a couple of words per sentence. I ordered a beer, thinking we were there to drink, but she ordered a soda.
In a few minutes, Julia Bläsi arrived, and I said "Hallo" to her and she sat down at our table. As soon as she came into the bar and said nothing to me it was absolutely confirmed that my earlier assumptions had been correct—she was in fact only interested due to the drunkenness.
So more of the girls came in and the guy left the table and soon I was the only guy sitting with five German girls, and Julia was the least attractive of them all. My memory had given her a lot more credit than she was worth.
So after I had another, smaller beer (to kill the ridiculous nervousness I was feeling) and they all had a soda and we played stupid card games (including Arshhole, which is Asshole in German in case you couldn't figure that out--and I was the Arsh for most of the game) we left to go to the club, taking three separate automobiles. Julia, by the way, did not come. Not that I gave a shit.
So we drove to the Music Club Offenburg,
and I discovered the devil’s earthly residence. Satan is a DJ at the Music
Club Offenburg, and this place is—beyond any doubt—Hell on Earth.
Admission to Hell, incidentally, is 4 Euros and 50 cents, but you also need to
pay 50 cents to hang up your coat. When we arrived I thought it was pretty
crowded, because no matter where you stood in the hallway outside the main
bar/dance-floor area, about 12 people would nudge by you every half a
minute. After waiting on a line to have our coats hung up, we went into
the main area, where the music was so loud you couldn't even hear a person
shouting into your ear right next to you. There were a total of 5 bars in
the one room, and a giant dance floor covered with fake snow (the them was
Fall). Above the floor hung a giant disco ball, a rigging with lots of
coloured lights which spun colourful patterns on the floor, and huge paper
Icicles. The party now consisted of me, and 3 German girls including
Simone, one moderately attractive girl and one not-so-attractive one. We
found a bar with four open stools and sat down, observing the party. I was
wondering when they were going to start drinking, because fuck knows I was going
to need a lot of beer to enjoy this. But they didn't drink at all.
They just sat there, watching the party and occasionally making comments to each
other, no doubt about the various guys on the dance floor.
We sat there for probably an hour, although because this was Hell time moves much slower and it seemed to me like 6 hours, the girl sitting next to me turned to me and shouted in my ear in German. Not only did I not hear what she said, but what I did hear was incomprehensible because, after all, it was in German. When it was clear I didn't understand, Simone came up and shouted even louder into my ear in German, and I managed to make out s few things, about how normally this was better but tonight it sucked and they were thinking of going somewhere else, like maybe to a smaller bar. I made it clear that I was in full support of this idea, but she sat back down and we sat there for like another half an hour, which of course to me was three hours. I kept wondering if they had changed their minds and if I should go order a beer because I was way too sober to handle the current situation.
The DJ, Satan, was playing non-stop loud, German techno, and shouting at the top of his voice with the microphone turned to top-volume (often using both English and German in the same sentence) about how OFFENBURG IS NUMBER ONE!!! and IT'S TIME TO PARTY!!! and when more fake snow fell from the ceiling how ES SCHNEET (it's snowing) SO IT'S TIME TO PARTY!!!! HIER IN OFFENBURG, ALWAYS....NUMBER...ONE!!! Then he played a song which I didn't recognise but which apparently is a popular German dance song because all of a sudden the previously empty dance floor became filled with Germans doing some strange, bizarre German line dance. There were about 20 of them dancing like robots, 17 men and 3 women. The girls continued sitting and talking to each other about the various guys they saw (this is only an assumption but based on how they were pointing at the guys on the dance floor while talking to each other I assume it's a correct assumption.) So we sat there until I was just about to get up and order a strong, strong drink, then we left and went back into the hall.
I thought it was crowded before, but it turns out when we arrived it had been relatively empty. Now you couldn't even move out in the hallway without elbowing through a sea of German teenagers. And God help you if you wanted to stand in one place, because every half a minute, at least 46 people would elbow by you. The girls kept bumping into people they know and talking to them for 5 minutes (half an hour) each while I stood there with my hands in my pockets, behind my most paranoid eyes as Germans continued to bump into me again and again. Finally they decided to get our coats and leave. That naturally took 20 minutes (two hours) and finally we were back outside in the fresh, cold, rain-filled air. The line out the door literally stretched to the edge of the parking lot. That is NO EXAGGERATION. From the edge of the parking lot, up two flights of stairs, Germans from all over Offenburg and surrounding towns were actually waiting on line to get into Hell. I couldn't believe it.
So the worst was behind me, but now the party of three girls I was with had grown, as three other girls joined in, one of whom I remember from Rheinfest, an extremely attractive girl named Tanya, and another who looked exactly like the actress from Natural Born Killers only slightly more attractive. We stood out in the rain for a good half an hour (a REAL half an hour) debating what to do. They suggested "ins Kino gehen" (going to the movies) a few thousand times but I think it was just a joke. Other ideas included going to Europa park (the giant six-flags-like amusement park) where it was Oktoberfest. But this I believe was also just a joke because, after all, it was cold and raining. I was particularly glad it was cold and raining, because it fit my state of mind perfectly.
But eventually Simone lost patience and yelled at everyone saying she'd rather be doing anything other than standing there for a half an hour talking about what to do. So the three other girls got in there car and drove off and the three girls I was with originally packed into Simone's car and we drove off in search of a bar that the girls knew and trusted. It took forever to find a parking lot with free spaces but eventually we did, not before finding the other car with the other three girls and shouting at them across the road to meet us outside the Eis-Cafe (ice cream cafe). So we parked and waited for them in the rain outside the Eis-Cafe for a good twenty minutes before we saw any sign of their car, which we saw pull into the parking lot across the street, but then waited another 10 minutes before they actually made it to us. Then they decided on a destination and we headed off down the street to the Palazzo where they could drink Eis-Kaffe (ice-cream coffee).
The weather took a turn for the worse at this point, which made me smile. It started raining harder and lightning flashed off in the distance every now and then. As we were walking through the rain and the girls became soaked—which is of course a huge turn-on, making the beautiful ones at least twice as beautiful—it dawned on me that if I was a normal person I would be enjoying this. Here I was in fucking Germany hanging out with a bunch of beautiful German girls. To any other guy it would be a fantasy, but to me it was a nightmare. I accepted that my mood was not going to change just because of a thought like that, and I would continue to be miserable for the rest of the night.
When we got to the Palazzo it was closed, but there was a small open bar right across the street (actually in the MIDDLE of the street as the streets in Germany are fucking strange) so we went inside and the 7 of us all pulled chairs up to a table in the corner and checked out the menu. The waiter came and took everyone's orders. The girls ordered first, most of them getting Eis-Kaffee with one or two getting tee or some other weird non-alcoholic beverage, and I ordered a Bitburger (my favourite Pilsner). The girls looked amused, but I didn't care. My brain NEEDED beer at this point, and beer it would get.
So there I was, sitting in a German bar in Germany with Germans. I, the only guy in a party of 6 girls, 5 of whom were at least moderately attractive, 4 of whom were at least very attractive, 3 of whom were at least supermodel-level attractive and 2 of whom were mind-blowingly, heart-breakingly attractive: Tanya and Simone (the only girls of the 6 whose names I remember). And none of them were the least bit interested in me. It was as though God was dangling extreme beauty right in front of my face just to show me what I can never have. "Look at these extraordinary creations of mine, Kyle. Go ahead and try to talk to them...oh wait...YOU CAN'T because YOU DON'T SPEAK GERMAN!!! Hahahahaha...Jeses fucking Christ I'm so funny. Now open your mouth while I ejacualte on your face! Ha ha ha!!!"
Tanya was talking about how she's going to America on Tuesday, so I assumed she would ask me a couple of things. She asked me one question, which I assumed was how long am I staying in Germany and I said 1 year, but everyone laughed at me and she asked again, and I gave another wrong answer until Simone clarified to me that she was asking how long my flight here took. So that was the big question. I said 6 hours, but it takes longer going back. And that was the last time any of them talked to me, except for when I took out my cigarettes and offered them to anyone who wanted one. Three of the girls, including Simone, accepted with a "Danke Schön" and that was that.
I drank two beers as quickly as I could but was still not nearly at the level of drunkenness I wanted to be at, but the girls were ready to leave. Much to my delight, we were right in the middle of the storm, lightning and thunder erupting everywhere, furious cold rain pouring from the skies. I couldn't have asked for more appropriate weather. We dashed along the streets, the girls finding shelter wherever they could, under awnings and bus-stops, but it was futile, and all of us got soaked. The three girls who'd met us left and we said good-bye. That was the last I would see of Tanya.
Simone asked me if I would like to go home or go somewhere else, because she was going to stay out but at least one of the other girls was going back. I'd made up my mind to ride this ridiculous wave to the end, so I lied and said it didn't matter to me and I wasn't tired. If we went somewhere else I could order more beer, and the more I drank, the more amusing and less horrendous the situation would become. So we got back in Simone's car and we headed back towards Hell where the other car was still parked. But they tuned the radio to a station broadcasting the party, and Satan was no longer playing techno. The music was now actually pleasing to the girls, and I began to get a little scared. As we pulled into Hell's parking lot, the song being played was Shania Twain's "I Feel Like a Woman" with the DJ turning down the volume every time she sang "Oh oh oh oh" so that the Germans could drunkenly shout the line. Apparently the girls thought this was deliciously fun and they all decided to go back inside. This being my most hated song OF ALL TIME I had absolutely no desire to do that, not to mention I'd rather die and go to the actual Hell than to go back into the Music Club Offenburg.
So I asked if anyone was still going back, and told Simone I had no desire to go back. She looked disappointed but agreed to take me home. The other girls got out to go party and I took the front seat and Simone drove me back, listening to the madness on the radio for the whole 15-minute drive, during which the storm calmed down. Just before we reached the house where I was staying I apologised for being so boring, (which is, "Es tut mir leid, dass ich so langweilig bin). She said a couple of incomprehensible things to which I only responded, "ja ja ja." Then we were back and I thanked her for everything and said good-bye. I'm pretty certain that I will never see her or any of those girls ever again.
Back at the house I proceeded to get fucking wastedly hammered, smoke cigarrette after cigarette in an attempt to die of lung cancer by the end of the night (which failed unfortunately) and write the most angry, wasted journal entry I've ever written in which I clearly tell myself that if I ever believe again that any girl could be interested in me I deserve a good dose of reality and a firm slap in the face. There is no Hope, there has never been any Hope, and there never WILL be any Hope. Only lies. To live is to lie to yourself. The only Truth in life is death. And the most comforting thought for all of us is to know that no matter what, WE WILL ALL DIE.
And that is the story once again, in full detail. Incidentally, when I opened my inbox today there was no e-mail from Jessi, further confirming that all of my Hope is nothing but lies to myself. God, I hope I die soon.
15:57 Saturday, 16 October 2004
I haven’t written all week because there hasn’t been shit worth writing about. On Monday night the Germans in my kitchen invited me to drink beer with them, and they offered me free beer which they’d never done before so I took advantage, ended up drinking too much, and had a horrible hangover the next day which lasted all day and all night, and when I woke up the next morning still sick I realised it had been more than just the beer. So I’ve been sick all week, and I’m only now starting to recover. All I’ve been doing in loafing around, watching TV, e-mailing Corey twice a fucking day (which is too much), and re-reading Andromeda in preparation for writing the sequel, which once I begin will hopefully remove some of the feelings of worthlessness I’ve been feeling.
Jessi never responded to my e-mail, needless to say. So yesterday I sent her another one and she hasn’t responded to that one either. I think we may be at the point where she’s realised the pointlessness of keeping in touch with me and has decided to cut contact. The worst, stupidest way for the whole thing to end. Perhaps she got my package and for some reason all that kindness scared the shit out of her (even though I’m a thousand miles away and across the ocean, clearly not interested in harming her) and she decided she’d better end it before it goes too far. Maybe the fact that I asked her for her picture in my last e-mail pushed her over the edge. Or maybe she’s just too busy with her own pointless high school sophomore life to give a shit about me and how badly she’s torturing me by not responding to me e-mails. All of these are likely possibilities, but I’m assuming it’s the last one, and will continue to assume so until it’s been way too long since she’s sent me an e-mail and I finally send her one last confrontational e-mail asking her to tell me what the fuck is going on.
I feel depressed here a lot more often than I feel happy. It’s like a return to the high-school days, only the depression is not in the form of a girl I can see every day and thus really feel my pain directly. My pain is thousands of miles away, a cold wind blowing across the ocean. Despite the fact that this should be a grand, profound adventure, my life has never felt more meaningless.
Maybe something will happen soon to change that, but I doubt it. I’m going to call Krissy’s house today when it’s afternoon over there and ask for her contact info. Then tonight I’ll call her and who knows? I might be feeling good when I go to sleep tonight. I’m not counting on it.
She was in my dream last night. While I was talking to her I realised it was a dream, but I didn’t do anything about it. I almost woke up but managed to stay with the dream long enough for the lucidity to slip away.
Two nights ago I had a bunch of dreams but didn’t write any of them down. One involved Jessi, with the common theme of me driving her to work. Another involved Lauren, with the common theme of her not talking to me. And there was even an Aimee dream in there, a weird one in which she didn’t really play a part but I was reading something that reminded me of her and then saw her and thought I was still in love. Just goes to show that I’ll never get over anybody. I’m doomed to carry these obsessions with me to my grave, the girls who are subject to my obsessions not even thinking about me at all after awhile.
I wonder if Aimee ever still thinks about me. I know Sara doesn’t. Jessi obviously does because I force her to whenever I send her an e-mail or show up on IM (haven’t messaged her in weeks, nor has she messaged me). And Lauren…who the fuck knows? She probably does from time to time, because she did read my book and it did make an impression on her, even if it was only one of fear. But it must have meant something to her, and she must think of me sometimes, if only in a passing muse every now and then.
I hope that one day Lauren falls in love with a guy she barely knows, and thinks of me and how she couldn’t understand how I could love her so much when I barely knew her. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but I really think it would be great if that happened. That I made some sort of impression. And that somewhere down the line she’ll find herself in the position I was in with her. And that maybe through her pain she’ll finally understand what I was talking about, and I will no longer be a symbol of fear to her, but something warmer.
All this is just fantasy and of course I’ll never know even if that does happen, or has happened already. It’s just nice to think of.
And on that note I’m going to get back to reading that very book, which has brought Lauren once again to the forefront of my mind and forced me to realise once again that I’ve never really gotten over her, I still Love her very much, and I most certainly always will. At least some things in life last forever, even if they are painful.
15:24 Sunday, 24 October 2004
I suppose I should write something. It’s been over a week since my last entry, and I guess there has been stuff “happening” although it hardly seems worth the trouble of documenting it. This was supposed to be the first week of classes, so after choosing a bunch that I wanted to try out, I set out on Tuesday with Justin and Jesse to check out a class on “African-American History in Contemporary Literature and the Arts”. We got to the classroom ten minutes early and waited for 30 minutes for the professor to arrive. When he came in 20 minutes late, he began speaking in German about stuff that had nothing to do with African American history. Jesse turned to the girl next to her and asked her if this was the right class. It turned out we’d been in the wrong classroom and the actual class was below us in the basement. So we went down there and by now we were 30 minutes late. When we opened the door, the room was packed and the professor was speaking German, so we left. Jesse e-mailed the real professor and asked if the class was taught in English, which it is but because it’s mostly Germans taking it she’d been speaking German on the first day. So that was that. Then I decided not to bother with the class I’d been thinking about taking on Wednesday. Then on Thursday Jesse and I went to check out a class on “American Political Rhetoric” and when we got there the room was virtually empty. We did bump into Sabine, however, one of the German-exchange-students to TCNJ whom I’d met last year. She’s taking the same course, and we waited for 10 minutes before someone came in and pointed out to us that there had been a note on the door saying the class had been moved to next week. And that was that. The first week of classes.
Man, that was so fucking pointless. I can’t believe I wasted so much time and typing energy to write about that stupid crap. But it’s not like I have anything important to write about. It’s been well over 2 weeks since I last heard from Jessi, which means she ignored 2 of my e-mails. On Friday morning I had a dream that I was talking to her on IM and she was being friendly, so for the whole day I worked myself up to confront her on IM and ask if she still wants to keep in touch with me, but she didn’t come on-line and I just got really drunk and sent her an e-mail. It was very short but took me a half-hour to write because I kept re-reading it over and over and changing minute details every time. I just expressed my worries that I’m never going to hear from her again and asked her to tell me what I said or did to make her change her mind about talking to me. Finally I was able to bring myself to send it, but of course I haven’t heard anything so far. I think things between us might really be officially over. But until she actually confirms it herself, there will always be that annoying little strand of hope. I have to attempt to IM her, which I might do today. Then we’ll see what the deal is. If she ignores an instant message from me, that just about seals it.
In other news, I’ve begun writing the sequel to Andromeda after re-reading the original. Doing so has brought Lauren back to the forefront of my mind like she hasn’t been in years. Turns out I was completely wrong about being “over her” and I’m still madly in love with the Lauren in my mind, the ideal I created which doesn’t exist but which is still enough for me to obsess over. Not only have I been thinking about her frequently every day, but she’s been appearing in my dreams almost nightly. I keep having dreams where I’m back in high school and she’s there and we end up talking. It’s rather strange, because when I used to have those dreams, she would always ignore me and we would never talk. But in all of these dreams we end up talking and she is actually rather nice and pleasant to me.
In last night’s dream I was in a class doing something about astronomy, and although she was ignoring me at first, she eventually put down her guard and opened up. And once she started talking she wouldn’t shut up. We had the option of staying after class, and she asked me if I would be doing so and I said yes. She told me that she had to go home and work on a project about some movie. She explained the movie in detail and I remember it being quite interesting. The only detail I remember is that she said it had “dirty priests doing dirty things.” How does my mind come up with this stuff? But she was also talking a lot about alcohol. She offered me some and I accepted, and she gave me what was actually an ice-cream cone, which I guess had alcohol in it but I didn’t eat/drink any of it. As she was talking to me I realised that I should offer to take her home since we lived so close to each other. I didn’t get the chance though. I remember her saying how we could party together if I could get a keg. All I would have to do is “hook up with some chick” who would buy it, and to this bizarre suggestion I responded, “You should know that’s not so easy for me, Lauren”. Then I woke up and got really pissed off that it was just a dream. I wanted to take Lauren home, but I had to go and wake up instead.
But I didn’t let myself get beaten so easily. I decided to try and bring myself into a WILD (wake-induced lucid-dream) so I closed my eyes and pictured myself talking to Lauren, and it sort of worked because in my next dream I was talking to Lauren again. Lauren and Jessi actually, but my mind was more focussed on Lauren. We were discussing something and she said something completely incomprehensible, which jogged me into a state of lucidity. I wish I could remember the exact phrase, but it had no logical meaning and I realised I was asleep. I remember saying to her, “You see, Lauren, there are these things called words which we put together to make sentences which make up things called ideas,” and with that I hopped up onto the table where she was sitting, touched her face and moved in to kiss her. But as I put my arms around her, I lost her. I had realised too quickly that this wasn’t actually Lauren and nobody was actually there, so when I went to embrace her all I felt was the empty air, and the blanket from my bed which I knew was really the only thing I was actually embracing. So I woke up again, even more disheartened.
I like how I can write two big paragraphs about a couple of dreams, but it’s a huge strain for me to even write one paragraph about what’s been happening in real life. I’m very dissatisfied with real life right now, which pisses me off because I’m supposed to be having the time of my life. Last Spring was so much better, even though I was going to the same old school in the same old country, with the same old friends in the same old house. Being around Jessi was enough. Being on true friendly terms with the girl I loved was enough. Not to mention the fact that I had weed, which makes it so easy to see the good and beauty in everything. Now, I’m missing love and weed, the two most important ingredients to my own satisfaction.
But weed may be coming my way in the near future. Jesse knows a few exchange students from Ireland who are constantly in possession of hash or grass or whatever, and they know a guy whom they can get it from at any time. Yesterday Jesse gave me the number of one of the Irish guys and I tried calling him today but all I got was a machine and I’m not even sure it was the correct number. I’ll try again later, but I don’t think anything will happen today. But the next time Jesse is going to meet up with them, I’ll make sure he takes me along so I can make my desperately needed connections. Just a little bit of weed would make life so much better now. It would really help me appreciate this dismal situation so much more.
I’m thousands of miles from everyone I love and care about. The people I’m here with have no respect for me and they make me feel like shit. Oh yeah, we went to Mainz yesterday. I guess it’s obvious how important I think that is. It was travelling and seeing a new city, which is the kind of thing I’m here for and should be excited about, but despite that and despite the fact that it was a beautiful day, I just felt like shit the whole time, thinking about Jessi and remembering Lauren. Thinking about Krissy and how I finally got her phone number which was the cell number I already had which she lost a long time ago. Thinking about how if I could just be here with ONE person whom I actually liked and who liked me, things would be a million times better. But these people don’t like me. They take me along on their adventures because they are socially inclined, and the more people they have in the group, the more secure they feel. Even when all they do to the extra group member is abuse him. I don’t need to be told that my jokes aren’t funny and that I’m ugly. I know these things. But now I have them to remind me. Gee, how lucky I am to have met such friendly people here.
Fuck this stupid situation. I don’t regret coming here, but I wouldn’t be crushed at all if something happened and I had to leave early and go home right away never to return.
I suppose I’m learning something. I had just hoped that the learning experience would be fun and full of good times and happiness. But so far it’s all just been crap. If only Lu had given me her correct phone number…
13:57 Tuesday, 26 October 2004
Well, I’m a fucking asshole. Right now I’m in a state of emotional confusion like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Just when I’d given up hope that I’d ever hear from Jessi again, she sends me an e-mail. I logged into my account and there it was. And it was horrifying. Any pain that I’ve been going through due to her just absolutely pales in comparison to what she’s been going through.
A week ago she was rushed to the hospital because something was wrong with her. The doctors took three tubes of blood to run tests but they couldn’t figure out what was wrong. For the past week she’s been out of school, taking 10 pills a day and just feeling completely out of it. Now she’s going back to school but she’s still in pain and she still has to go to the doctor every day. They still don’t know what’s wrong.
So I’m caught in a state of extreme emotional confusion. On the one hand, I’m absolutely overjoyed and ecstatic that my original fear was wrong. She isn’t ignoring me, and she still wants to be my friend and keep in contact. But on the other hand, she’s suffering and I can’t do a damn thing about it. On top of that, I’m extremely worried for her. What if this is something very serious? What if she’s in danger of dying? It’s not impossible—she’s a human being and human beings die. Often times at young ages for inexplicable reasons. Our evil, sadistic, wrathful God just takes them away. If he takes her away I will NEVER forgive him. I don’t believe in God now, but if she dies I would believe, because not even the laws of nature could be that cruel. Only an evil, sadistic God would take the life of such a wonderful, beautiful person. The only girl who has ever been comfortable with my Love for her. Sure, she’s young and naïve and she said she would read my book but never did…but I can’t blame her for that. She’s still the kindest, most genuinely beautiful soul I’ve ever known. She’s too good to be true. Too good for this world.
Hopefully these fears are unfounded and she’ll be just fine. But goddammit I’m going to have to be very worried now for a very long time. Every time I go for a couple of weeks without hearing from her I’m going to think that she’s dead. O cruel fate. How utterly nightmarish and horrible this is.
But on the other hand, I feel wonderful. She still likes me. She still cares enough about me to take the time to put my fears to rest by sending an e-mail explaining herself to me. I haven’t lost her yet. We’re still keeping in touch. As long as she’s alive, we will keep in touch. Until that one fateful day when she either really does decide she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, or she dies.
Life keeps finding new ways to fuck you in the ass. Hearing from her again should have been wonderful. But instead it’s just…extremely confusing. I suppose once I calm down I’ll see the beauty in all this. Right now I’m just confused, ecstatic, sorry, worried…too many emotions at once. That’s Love for you. Especially my Love, which always seems to find the perfect people to direct itself towards. If it’s emotional intensity I’m looking for in life, she’s definitely the person to provide me with that.
18:27 Friday, 29 October 2004
Well, something interesting happened today that wasn’t even Jessi or dream related. It was actually something that happened in CLASS having to do with SOCIAL and CULTURAL differences between Germans and Americas! The kind of stuff I’m supposed to be learning.
So far I’ve only been to two classes, and I’m only going to take one of them. Yesterday I went to an “American Political Rhetoric” class which was supposed to be taught in English but the professor, who must have been 200 years old, only spoke one English sentence for every hundred German ones. I won’t be going back there.
But today I went to a class on the Vietnam War. All of the other Americans I’m here with went as well, and the class was packed. This one actually is taught in English, but as usual the majority of students taking the course are Germans.
During the opening discussion, the professor asked if anyone had gone to the Vietnam war memorial and what they felt it symbolised. I raised my hand because I have been there and it was quite an intense experience for me. I described the wall and how I was overwhelmed with emotion thinking about how all of these people died for basically nothing. That it was so depressing to Americans because it was a war with no good results; only suffering. Then a German raised his hand and asked me what I thought a war with “good results” would be. I said that I didn’t believe in the concept of war at all, and I didn’t think there it was necessary to try and stop communism in Vietnam, but if it actually had been a threat and we had stopped it, that would be “good” results. I could tell I wasn’t getting my point across, so I pointed out the difference between that war and World War II, and how that was seen by the allies as having good results and the people who fought in it were seen as heroes.
The reaction I got sent a chill down my spine as a great uneasiness overtook the room and everyone turned and made comments to each other. I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned World War II in front of a bunch of Germans. The kid who had asked me the question looked perplexed and said, “The people who fought in World War II were heroes?” And all I could say was “Well, that’s what they were seen as.”
The German sitting next to me whom I’d been talking to before class and had been explaining the set-up of the course turned to me and said, “It’s okay, it’s just that Germans perceive World War II a lot differently because we were losers.” I told him I knew and I probably shouldn’t have said that.
After class he came up and talked to me and the other Americans a little more about the subject. He explained how this was a touchy subject because in both of the world wars their country was seen as bad, and now they all believe that their side was clearly in the wrong. For years afterwards nobody talked about it, much like the end result of the Vietnam War for Americans. They didn’t see anyone who fought in the war as “heroes” but merely as brave men who fought and died bravely for their country, whatever side they were on. So that was interesting.
But after that initial reaction from the class I had thought I was going to be burned at the stake. Luckily the professor explained later that I was right, and that in America the soldiers from WWII were celebrated and given parades, while soldiers from the Vietnam War were ignored or spat on. And even if some of the people in the room were angry with me for what I said, I’m sure most of them understood and it made me all the more interesting to them. I noticed a lot of the girls looking at me at arbitrary times, and I even got a few smiles for no reason. Whatever that means.
So that was that. There’s still not much going on here otherwise. I sent Jessi an e-mail yesterday expressing my deep concern that she was going to die, and explaining to her why I’d been worried that she was going to stop talking to me. I gave her a very brief, extremely abridged account of my Aimee story, which was a big deal for me because I’ve never been able to talk about other girls I’ve loved with any girl I’ve loved before. Hopefully she won’t take too long to respond, because I’ll be worried that she’s dead until then. Hopefully she’ll tell me that she’s not dying and everything’s fine.
Perhaps the most bizarre thing to come out of this whole thing is that it’s brought me to pray again. I told her in my e-mail that if I believed in God I would pray for her, but maybe I would anyway just in case. So yesterday, for the first time in God knows how many years, I folded my hands, closed my eyes, and talked directly to God. Beginning with the qualifier of “if you exist” I asked him to spare Jessi’s life, even if it means I’ll never see or hear from her again. So it’s as selfless a request as I could make, and I didn’t promise anything in return, because there’s nothing I can guarantee him, not even that I’ll start believing he exists. But just in case he does exist I want him to know that I want her to live, that I think she deserves to live and if there’s any room for change in his “divine plan” he should have some mercy and let her live to be old and happy. I prayed again last night saying just about the same thing, and I’ll probably do it again tonight. It’s so weird, but even though I don’t believe in God as any sort of deity who listens to or answers prayers, it feels strangely powerful to pray. I attribute it to something psychological…not so much spiritual. But yeah, I’m praying now and it feels weird, especially when I frequently curse God and whatnot, but I’m only asking him for one thing and you never know.
The other significant event was Corey reading Andromeda again and sending me a detailed critique of nearly every chapter and the characters. As usual, he pointed out all my flaws and made me feel horrible about my writing. It’s now completely obvious that simply going back and re-vamping dialogue and changing a few things here and there won’t be enough. If it’s going to be a publishable book, I’m going to have to re-write the whole thing all over again. Which is a problem because I have no desire, nor the inspiration to do so at this point. I’ve started writing the sequel, which I am inspired to write, but I can’t write the sequel to a book I haven’t written yet. I’d have to go back and worry about continuity and things like that. And the second book is so dependent on the first that I can’t really write it without knowing all the specifics of exactly what happens. I need to write Andromeda before I write sequel, but I’m not really ready at this point to write that book again for the third fucking time. Especially when it’s obvious that the other two version of Andromeda, as well as the 6 sequels I wrote as a child, have all just been a huge waste of time and there’s no guarantee that another re-write won’t be a waste of time as well. I’m really not that good of a writer. I’m better than a lot of people, but not nearly good enough to reach the level you need to be on in order to actually get published. And if you’re not writing to get published, you’re just wasting your time. I’ve already wasted so much of my life and devoted so much time and energy to producing crap. At this point I can’t bring myself to continue devoting myself what will most likely always be crap.
But in spite of all this depressing shit, I feel surprisingly okay about life. I was in a somewhat decent mood today for no reason at all. Not even the weather could be an explanation because it’s been grey and drizzly. There’s certainly nothing to be happy about, but for some reason I don’t feel so bad. Maybe it was all those girls smiling at me in class.
Which shouldn’t make me happy at all. It’s not like I’ll be able to make friends with any of them or go out with them or anything. And that’s a guarantee. I’d better stop writing now before I actually do manage to depress myself.
18:19 Wednesday, 03 November 2004
Well, there’s been a lot going on, but I haven’t been writing in this journal because now I have many other outlets to vent my joy and frustration. Naturally, the number one issue of the day is President George W. Bush’s reelection. I could rant about that for awhile but I’ve already sent plenty of e-mails and posted blogs about that. Obviously I think that America has made a huge mistake and we’ll all be paying for it shortly. Of course, as an American living oversees I am going to pay for it immediately as the opinion of our country will undoubtedly drop now that there is no doubt that most of us are conservative, arrogant, ignorant bastards who don’t give a shit about the rest of the world. Before I could claim that Bush never had a majority of support from Americans, but there’s no denying it now. We’re a bunch of fucking morons.
Anyway, I’m trying to look on the bright side of this, and there’s actually a very practical silver lining here. If Kerry won I couldn’t really complain about anything he does because I voted for him. But now, just as I’ve made fun of and hated Bush for the past four years, I can continue to make fun of and hate him for the next four. I can wash my hands of the responsibility as our country goes to shit. Not my fault…it’s all the homophobic racist fundamentalist Christians in the bible belt’s fault. Well, they can all burn in hell as far as I’m concerned. When we’ve exhausted our military resources in this directionless “war” on terror to the point where the rest of the world realises we’re not as powerful as we once thought we were, and the draft is re-instituted and I end up getting killed by a suicide bomber in Iraq, I’ll know I’m not responsible. Then when Europe unites with Russia and China, and gets U.N. backing to disarm the United States and oust President Jeb Bush from office, and Afghan warlords are bombing our schools and hospitals and killing our babies, maybe then people will look back and wonder if maybe we’ve been deceived.
But whatever. That’s far more ranting than I meant to do. Despite my being quite pissed off at my country, I’m actually in quite a good mood. What could possibly put me in such a good mood? You guessed it. Jessi.
Yes, I got an e-mail from her a couple of days ago saying that she’s not going to die and she’s getting much better. She was only going through such health bullshit because her anemia is stronger and she’s got to take more pills and vitamins every day to keep that from happening. Then she went on to say “it’s good to hear from you” (which of course is heavenly) and asked me about the food and the culture here. But she also asked me if I could send her some Swiss chocolate, thus confirming that my package never got to her and it was lost in the mail. So I wasted a lot of time and money on that one. But today I responded to her and told her about the food and culture, and about the package I sent. I said I’d be more than happy to send her more chocolate if she could confirm her address. I said that the sooner she responded the sooner I could send the chocolate, and I’ll send it by Luftpost so she could have it as early as next week. So hopefully I’ll get a nice quick, thankful response which will send me even higher into the clouds as I buy more chocolate and waste even more money on making her happy. But as I’ve said many times before, there’s nothing I’d rather spend my money on than that.
That’s pretty much all I have to say. I’m in such a weird mood because of these two things. If it weren’t for Jessi I might be a lot more upset about this election. But luckily she’s helped me, as she so often has, to get things in perspective. Love is more important than politics. As long as I’ve got a solid friendship with the girl I Love, I don’t care who’s in the white house. And that’s all there is to it.
16:56 Sunday, 07 November 2004
Well, today is a wonderful, magnificent day. I haven’t felt this good since I got that first e-mail from Jessi on that first week here saying she still wants to be my friend. I got another e-mail from her today saying that she got my package! She thanked me several times for all of the thought I put into it. It felt wonderfully magnificently great, every bit as great as I had imagined it being. I can’t believe it took over a month for her to get that package. But she did and she said she loved it. Her e-mail was all in bold-faced italic letters and chock-full of spelling errors which conveyed her excitement. She even included a big smiley-face emoticon to express her joy.
So although I couldn’t see her reaction in person or hear her words of thanks, I know that something I did really made her happy. I put a smile on her beautiful face, and although I can’t see it I can imagine just what it looked like. I made her happy and that makes me very very happy. I was so overwhelmed with joy that I could even sit and answer Corey’s depressing-as-shit e-mails. I strapped on my shoes, threw on a jacket and took my CD player with some happy-ass music to the park and walked around, taking in the beauty of the outside world while I felt beautiful inside.
Jessi has and does cause me a lot of pain, that’s for sure. But days like these, feelings like the ones I currently have, certainly make it all worth it.
15:40 Tuesday, 16 November 2004
This past weekend I finally made it to Amsterdam. And as much as I loathe the tedious process of writing down everything that happened to me, I don’t think I’ll forgive myself if I don’t describe this trip in detail.
I went with the two guys from my college, David and Justin, as well as Rachel from Texas, Jesse from Massachusetts, and a girl named Laura from Spain who wanted to go but none of her friends could afford it. We took the Inter-City Express (ICE) train from Frankfurt directly to Amsterdam, and arrived at 1:30 on Saturday afternoon. I got my first impression of the city as we walked from the train station in search of a hostel. We were looking for a place near the Red Light District, which is where all the bars and coffee shops are located, as well as numerous sex shops and whorehouses.
As we made our way to the first hostel of our choice, the Bulldog Hotel, we were all struck by how absolutely ridiculous this city is. The smell of weed everywhere, phallic symbols lining the streets, crazy fucked-up people walking around everywhere, more dildos in the windows than I’ve ever seen in my life, and just utter insanity everywhere.
It was lightly raining when we reached the Bulldog and since we didn’t have reservations they couldn’t put us in the same room. We would have to split up into two groups of two and two people alone. We decided to try another place, so we called the Stayokay youth hostel and they were able to put the four guys in a guys only room and the two girls in a mixed room, so we went there and checked in.
After that we were all very hungry so we found a nice cheap place to eat at called Fried Chicken & Ribs or something. They didn’t have ribs, and despite the man’s assurance that the chicken was “the best in Holland” it wasn’t very good.
Then, we finally went to a coffee shop. It was called the Old Church because it was across from an old church, and it was incidentally next to a place called Sexy Land. They sold marijuana in bags of 2 grams each in several varieties. David bought a bag of Ice-Skunk, Jesse bought a bag of Blueberry, and I bought a bag of White Widow. We found a nice big table upstairs and proceeded to commence smoking. Because I was the most experienced smoker in our group, they chose me to roll the joints. So I rolled a joint of Ice-Skunk and one of Blueberry. As I was breaking up the weed I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of joy that I was finally coming into contact once again with my most beloved substance, Mary-Jane. My, how I’ve missed her.
Anyway, I had the honour of sparking the joint and that first hit was like bliss and heaven all wrapped up in paper and sent into my lungs. Rachel took her first hit of weed ever and the rest took their first hits in months or years, except for Jesse who has been hanging out with people who smoke here in Frankfurt. It was his first hit in a day. But for six people, the joint made it around a surprisingly large amount of times, and by the end I was already feeling ridiculously high. But Jesse suggested we smoke the other, and although I felt that one was enough for now, I wasn’t about to pass it up. I didn’t want to mix the types of weed right off the bat, but I wasn’t about to let a whole joint go by without hitting it a few times.
When the smoking session was over we were all unbelievably ridiculously high, and we decided to check out the sex museum. This was, without a doubt, the most insane museum I’ve ever been to. It features pornography from through the ages, photographs from as far back as 1870 and drawings from even further. The oldest thing there was a giant stone phallus from the roman era. Everything there was either bizarre, disturbing, or just plain horrifying. Nothing was the least bit arousing, although this may be attributable to the fact that I was too stoned to be aroused by anything.
When we were through with the sex museum, we decided to go another coffee shop, but first to purchase a smoking device. After looking at glass in a few places, we finally settled on a nice cheap grandfather-pipe that we found at a Smart-shop, a place which sells both weed and mushrooms. While we were there we checked out a few varieties of shrooms, as David, Jesse, Laura, and myself were planning on eating some the following day. We decided to go back to that place when we wanted to purchase mushrooms, and we left in search of another coffee shop.
Rachel had heard good things about a place called Abraxas, so after wandering around and looking at the madness of the city for awhile as the sun went down, we found the place and got a table upstairs. Unlike the Old Church, where they played a decent variety of music, this place played only techno. We got a table upstairs, and I busted out the new grandfather-pipe, which I was extremely disappointed to find was actually just a one-hitter. But I packed it up anyway with my white-widow, and one packing amazing made it around an entire rotation. Rachel had decided not to smoke anymore because she didn’t feel high, just sick. Instead she was going to eat a brownie or something. But I continued packing the pipe and passing it around with different types of weed until everyone was really high, and then we sat there in silence listening to the techno music. The table we were sitting at had a chess-board on it, and Jesse and Justin decided to ask the waitress if they had any chess pieces for them to play. So they played a game of chess which Jesse won easily, and we decided to go find another place.
None of us were hungry except for Jesse, but he decided to stop at a Chinese restaurant for dinner and we joined. After looking at the menu, the food looked delicious and we all decided we were hungry enough. However, the food was not great and I hardly finished more than half of what I ordered. But unlike in Germany, that doesn’t matter. Rachel and David hardly ate any of their chicken and rice because the chicken was nothing but bones and fat.
So we left the restaurant very disappointed and found another place, where they served “Space-Cake” and a bunch of us ordered it including Rachel. As we would later find out, there was hardly any hash at all in their if any, although it was a very delicious cake. But the atmosphere there wasn’t very good so we went off in search of another place.
We walked by a bar that served Murphy’s Irish Stout, which is Justin’s favourite beer, and we stopped to consider going inside. There was a black man at the door who said, “Yeah, come on in, it’s a nice place.” This is not rare for Amsterdam; lots of bars and coffee-shops have people standing at the door to entice people to come in. We went in and found that it was just a regular, drink-serving bar, but unlike every other place we’d been to, there wasn’t loud techno music blasting. The music was actually pretty good, as they played Nirvana, Live, Smashing Pumpkins and similar bands. Justin ordered a pint of Murphy’s and although I had no interest in beer drinking I wanted to try it so I ordered a small Murphy’s and the rest of us ordered regular beer. The Murphy’s was delicious and it had absolutely no effect, as I was still rather high. But we enjoyed the place, which some magazine named one of the Top 50 bars in Europe, because of the music and the fact that a bunch of loud, drunken Scotsman were at the table next to us. They would occasionally ask us for an opinion while making fun of one of their mates, like what we thought of this guy’s hair or whether we thought this guy was gay. “He’s not gay,” one of them said, “he just likes blokes.”
So once they left and we finished our beer we went off in search of another place to smoke. We found a completely empty coffee shop and with its giant, empty tables and low-volume music, we decided it would be the perfect place. So we ordered some soft-drinks, sat down and smoked a joint, a bunch of hits from the grandfather-pipe, and another joint. At some point during that process, we all got really, really high. I mean, we were ridiculous. Nobody could follow what anybody else was saying. Justin couldn’t even finish a sentence without forgetting how he began it.
As we sat there laughing our asses off, a bunch of people came into the shop. When things calmed down with us, people started leaving. Then we would start talking and laughing again and more people would come in. It was funny how we affected the business of that place. People walking by must have assumed when they looked in and saw a bunch of ridiculously stoned people that we must be smoking the weed sold at this particular coffee shop.
But anyway, after we worked up the motivation to leave, we did and wandered around the city again. And in the middle of the night on Saturday, Amsterdam can be pretty crazy. We got lost a lot, and walked down alleys filled with prostitutes. Because it’s legal, they stand in the windows with red lights shining on them. Which is probably why where we were is called the Red Light district. Most of them were too fat or ugly, but some of them were so gorgeous I couldn’t believe they were prostitutes when they could easily be making lots of money either by modelling or marrying a rich man. But walking by the heavy red-lighted areas was actually rather scary. There were always crowds of shady, perverted men gathered outside the windows, and every five seconds a black guy would walk by and offer you cocaine or ecstacy. We didn’t take advantage of the prostitutes, the cocaine, or the ecstacy.
We were all very tired but we made it very far into the night, until after 1:00 in the morning when all of the coffee shops and bars began to close down. The only places that were still open were extremely crowded, so we decided it would be best to just go back to the hostel and sleep. There were twenty beds in the hostel, all completely taken, and despite a few snorers during the night, I managed to get to sleep rather quickly and get back to sleep rather easily every time I woke up.
The hostel serves a free breakfast every morning from 7:30 to 9:30 so at 8:30 Jesse woke me up and informed me that we were all going down for breakfast. Originally we’d planned to just get up, take advantage of the breakfast and go back to sleep for awhile, which I gladly would have done. But while I was eating this extremely disappointing breakfast of a quarter of a bowl of corn flakes and two pieces of bread with jelly, Justin said that he was awake now and probably wouldn’t be going back to sleep. I went back to bed anyway until 10 minutes later Jesse came back and informed me we were all getting ready to go so if I wanted to take a shower I should do it.
So I reluctantly got back out of bed, not remembering the last time I’d ever felt so tired, and found an open shower stall. I didn’t have any shower shoes, so I was worried about getting ringworm, but I didn’t. I opened my new bottle of shampoo, soaped up, and cleaned myself off, only dropping one sock into the wet shower floor before putting it on.
So we were all ready but the girls weren’t and we had to wait an extra 30 minutes for them to get up and take a shower because their alarm clock hadn’t woken them up. Finally we were ready to go, and the general consensus was to see a few museums before getting into the smoking. Our first stop was the Torture Museum, which was a very small museum with only a few exhibits of medieval torture devices. The captions were very interesting but with only 4 rooms of exhibits I felt like I’d been ripped off for my 5 Euros, especially when the Sex Museum only cost 2.50.
After eating lunch we went to the Heineken Brewery, which was a lot more fun and interesting than I thought it would be. At first I thought it was ridiculous that we had to pay 10 Euros to get in, but there were a few fun and interesting things on the tour, and you got three free beers and a complimentary Heineken glass on the way out, so it was worth it.
Justin wanted to see the Anne Frank house, so we spent about a half hour or more trying to find it, and when we finally did, Rachel decided she didn’t want to see it and David said because it was Sunday if we wanted to buy mushrooms we should do it immediately. I just had to use a bathroom. So we split into two groups and I went with Rachel and David, stopping at a Burger King to pay 30 cents for a toilet (well worth it) and we found a smart shop and asked the guy about his mushrooms. Reading through the menu, we decided that the Columbian mushrooms would be our best bet. They were supposedly supposed to be a relaxed, happy high with lots of visuals. David asked if eating half would be enough, and the guy asked him if he’s done it before. David said he had and the guy said it would probably be best to take the whole thing, but neither of us wanted to take a whole eighth because it’s been awhile since we’ve done it and we didn’t know what to expect from Amsterdam shrooms. So we bought two eighths to be split four ways, and went back to the hostel.
We decided we had enough time to eat something before the others returned, so we found a place called New York pizza to buy a ridiculously over-priced slice of pizza to have something (but not too much) in our stomachs when we took the shrooms. We went back to the hostel and the others arrived, but they hadn’t eaten yet so Rachel and Dave went to Abraxas to buy a hash brownie for Rachel and I took Justin, Jesse, and Laura to New York Pizza where they ate and I waited. David and Rachel met us there as they were finishing up, and we debated where to go to take the shrooms. I suggested we go back to the Old Church where we’d smoked the first of out weed. Nobody was too excited about that, but we decided to check it out anyway. It would be easier than finding another place, especially because we expected to spend a lot of time where we ate the shrooms.
So we made it to the Old Church and were once again lucky to obtain the big table upstairs all to ourselves, and for awhile we were the only ones in the room. We decided that David and I would split one box of the shrooms and Jesse and Laura would split the other. Rachel had eaten a muffin from Abraxas and had a brownie in reserve in the case the muffin didn’t work. Justin was content to just smoke.
They decided I should go eat the mushrooms first, and this was nice and easy because the bathroom was right next to our table. I went into the men’s stall, locked the door, and opened the box. These were shrooms unlike any I’ve ever seen, because they weren’t dried out. They tasted disgusting but went down very easy. I confess I was a little nervous about these things because I was expecting them to make me sick and want to vomit like I usually do when I take shrooms. So out of the 6 little shrooms in the box, I ate two and half of a cap from another, leaving four and a half for David. When he got out of the bathroom he asked me if I’d made a mistake because he felt like he’d eaten a whole eighth. But the other box only had three big shrooms instead of six small ones, so I was certain he got the right box. Then Jesse went in and ate half of his eighth, and gave the rest to the Spanish girl, Laura.
So we smoked a little and began the waiting process. I immediately started to feel the adrenaline as soon as I smoked. Justin and Jesse busted out a chessboard started playing. Around that time, about a half hour later, I was getting ancy and I really didn’t feel like sitting in the place anymore, especially now that the room we were in was full and nobody was talking anyway. David was also feeling the need to move, so when Jesse was finished beating Justin at chess for the second time, we got up and went outside.
The coldness hit us hard. It was colder than we’d ever remembered, and I knew I wasn’t wearing enough layers and I really needed a sweatshirt. Rachel commented that she left her hat in the hostel, and I said we should go back. I was surprised that nobody objected to this, and we went back to the hostel and I got my wonderful, trusty Pink Floyd hoodie.
As we went back out in search of another place, I could tell that the shrooms had kicked in and the period of nausea was over, having never become as unbearable as I’d expected. I suspected that I hadn’t really eaten enough because I wasn’t tripping very hard, but it would be fine as soon as we got into a coffee shop and smoked some more.
We walked into one that was blasting rap music, and everyone seemed ready to sit down but I didn’t like the atmosphere and said we could easily find a better place. So we continued to walk until we found another place which was better but I didn’t like it because there was nothing to look at and I wanted a place with an interesting atmosphere. These people didn’t seem to understand, but they agreed to go out and search for another place because we did have a lot of options. David told me he was starting to really need to just go somewhere and sit down, and that’s when we came upon the miracle place.
It was called The Bulldog and the atmosphere was perfect. Although it was playing techno music, it wasn’t playing it so loud that you couldn’t hear each other, and in the shrooming state of mind it actually sounded pretty good.
So we sat at a table and there we stayed for what seemed like twelve hours. Rachel said the muffin wasn’t doing anything, and we got her to eat the brownie. Justin, Jesse, and Laura smoked some more, but David and I couldn’t. I hadn’t realised how hard I was tripping until sitting down there but once I was situated I realised I was gone. David was further gone than I was, but Jesse and Laura were hardly feeling anything.
So we sat and we sat, and laughed and talked and I don’t remember much of what was said. All I remember are trying to smoke a cigarette but abandoning it in favour of just watching the flames eat away at it, going to the bathroom and feeling like I was stuck in another dimension because of the pattern on the back of the door, and my hat on the table dancing to the music.
Laura and Jesse weren’t really feeling anything. Jesse was having fun and he had a slight body high but not visuals. Laura was just depressed that she couldn’t understand us although she was supposed to know English and she couldn’t really talk to anybody. I tried explaining that we all knew how that felt. I feel that way all the time when I’m hanging out with the Germans. She said she knows she feels that way with Germans, but she should be able to talk with English speakers because they teach it for so many years in school. I explained that it was okay because were speaking with American accents unlike the British that she’s used to, and we weren’t speaking very clearly anyway.
At one point, the place must have blown a fuse because the lights turned off and we were in total darkness for awhile. The lights flickered on and off again and again, but as a back-up they had an auxiliary light come on. The place went from a friendly, cozy, coffee-shop with a nice atmosphere, to a cold, evil, dank place with just the switching of lights. I couldn’t stand it. Laura got up to order a coffee, and I was just trying to get everyone to leave. With every second that went by, that harsh white light pissed me off more and more, and every few seconds the normal lights would flicker for a second, giving me a tiny bit of hope before smashing it as they failed to return completely.
Finally we left the place and went off directionlessly into the night. Justin and Jesse had the munchies so we stopped off at a place called Frank & Fries which sold hot dogs and French fries. The thought of either of those things disgusted me, so I just got a jelly donut from the bakery next to it. Once we all had food in our stomachs we decided to go to Abraxas because Dave and I were coming down now and we wanted to try one of their brownies.
As we were walking, we came to the centre of town and Rachel stopped, saying she had no clue where we were. Normally, we would all be lost and she being sober would know where to go and what to do, but now all of a sudden she lost her sense of direction in the most recognizable part of town.
When we got to Abraxas we got a table and we ordered drinks and brownies. I ate the whole brownie not realising what I was doing, and David ate half. Then we busted out the weed and smoked a couple of joints until we were all blazed beyond comprehension. It was at this point that I realised Rachel was heavily under the effect of the brownie. She was, in fact, stoned out of her mind.
The effect of the shrooms disappeared as the weed completely overcame it. Jesse and Laura said they didn’t feel much of anything, so we realised they must have had a bad batch, which is odd because it was the same kind of shrooms.
But anyway, as things quieted down I suggested Justin and Jesse play chess again, and they decided this was a great idea. I’d never seen two people so fucked up playing chess. But I couldn’t follow the game at all, because I was starting to feel very odd. I realised at one point that I couldn’t feel my tongue inside of my mouth, and this freaked me out. I then realised that I couldn’t feel much of anything. I put two tic-tacs in my mouth and was freaked out by the effect. I could tell that there were tic-tacs in my mouth but I couldn’t feel my tongue. It was as though two minty dots were just floating around a void in my mouth.
I was beginning to freak out slightly, so I went outside and stood in the cold, but this didn’t help. I went back inside and informed everyone that I felt I might be a little too high for my own good, then David informed me it was the brownie, which I’d completely forgotten about. I hadn’t really taken it seriously because I couldn’t taste any weed in it. But apparently this shit was the real deal and I was feeling the full effects of something they told you should only be eaten one half at a time.
I tried to relax and succeeded somewhat, realising how awesome the whole trip had been and that I was probably higher than I’d ever been in a long time. When it was almost time for the place to close, we left and went back to the hostel. I thought I might be a little too freaked out to get to sleep, worried that I would puke or something, but as I curled under the covers, the numbness was no longer scary but welcome. It did take me awhile to get to sleep and I had to get up and pee a few times, thinking I might just have to be awake until morning, but eventually I took an allergy pill and passed out.
We woke up at 10:00 the next morning because check-out was at 10:30, then we checked out and bought lockers for the day so we wouldn’t have to drag our stuff around the city. We then went out in the direction of the Van Gogh museum, planning to get breakfast along the way, but we reached the museum before we could eat, and got in. I really like Van Gogh and I liked the museum, so it was a fun an enlightening experience despite the fact that I was still extremely tired. Jesse and Laura were taking forever though, and when the rest of us were finished and hungry, they were still less than half-way done so they said to go off and eat and they’d meet us back at the hostel.
So we did just that, and after eating Justin informed us that his stomach felt awful and he thought he had a virus. He wanted to go home as soon as possible, but I wanted to stay. We could leave at any odd-numbered hour and he wanted to go at 3:00 but I felt this was too early and we still had lots of weed that I intended to smoke some of before returning. He said he had no desire to smoke.
Jesse and Laura had separate tickets and Laura was meeting a neighbour of hers at 3:30 who lived in the city and could show them around. I agree we could go back at 3:00 if we got to a coffee shop so I could just smoke at least one joint before leaving.
I wanted to bring some stuff back with me, but everyone was saying this was way too risky and dogs would be able to smell it no matter what, even if I stuck it in a bottle of shampoo or coffee grinds as were the normal tricks. But when we got to the nearest café, called BasJoe which was empty when we arrived, it was clear that we had far too much weed left to smoke away. I rolled a joint and smoked pretty much all of it to my head except for a few hits taken by others, and we still had nearly three grams left. David suggested simply eating it.
But we were in luck. There was one black guy working there when we arrived, and he seemed like an awesome dude, especially with the Jamaican accent. He was talking to us about where we were from and everything, and I decided to ask him what he knew about taking weed back by train and check-points and whatnot. He said that it’s Monday so there probably wouldn’t be as much security on the weekend, but if they did find it, all they would do is throw it away. Taking a little bit of weed back from Amsterdam is apparently not really a big deal in Europe. He could have stopped there, but he said if I meant to do something, I should do it right, and out of the goodness of his heart supplied me with two small plastic bags, which he wrapped the weed in giving an air-tight seal, then wrapped those two bags in cellophane.
We gave him enourmous amounts of thanks and went back to hostel to get ready to go. I put the weed in my shampoo bottle, but it didn’t close. Apparently there was too much shampoo because it was a new bottle. So I poured some of it out into my towel and it closed.
We said goodbye to Jesse and Laura, and headed off to the train station. As we were walking I realised I had the grandfather pipe in my coat pocket, and if they searched that, they would most definitely find the pipe and be far more inclined to search my bags. So out of sheer nervousness, I threw it away. It had only been 7 Euros so I didn’t feel too bad about it at the time.
We got on the train and I realised for the first time since I’d smoked that joint that I was high. I really enjoyed the first half of the train ride in spite of my nervousness of being searched. But when the high wore off we were well into Germany and there had been no security at all. Nobody even checked our passports as they had coming into the Netherlands.
We got back to Frankfurt and made it back to the dorms without incident. No dogs, no police, nothing. When I went to extract the weed from the shampoo I found that the bottle had exploded and shampoo was all over the place. If they had opened my bad they would have definitely noticed this and found the bag of weed, floating right at the top of the shampoo bottle. But there was still bore than half of the shampoo in the bottle so I tried extracting the weed. However, this proved impossible, so I had to slice off the whole top of the shampoo bottle to get the weed. I felt bad about all that shampoo wasted, and the unnecessary discarding of the grandfather pipe, but it didn’t matter because now I had what counts: the weed.
And I’m still in possession of that delicious weed as of this writing. I must say how much I hated writing that. How boring it was to me, and how little I actually care about any of the shit that I just wrote. I’d much rather be writing about Jessi or something. But whatever. I started the entry yesterday and then had to go to class. When I got back instead of finish this horrible entry I decided to sample some of my spoils, and I smoked a little and watched Dark Side of Oz and What Dreams May Come, which is a fantastic film, by the way.
However, I must say that this whole Amsterdam weed thing may be backfiring on me. Now that I’ve tasted the delicious plant once again and re-experienced what it’s like to be high, how much better it is than being drunk or in any other state of mind, it’s going to be difficult when I run out of this stuff. If I only had some connection here in Germany to get weed, I wouldn’t be so conservative about it, but as of now I feel like I’ve got to stretch this out and make it last for as long as possible, much to the detriment of each individual high. I only feel really high for about 45 minutes, and the rest is just feeling normal, like how I used to feel all the time back in my good old college house at Ewing.
But this is hardly a problem at all, so I don’t even care about it. All I know is that I need to write to Corey again, who has been expecting to hear from me since Monday. And I’d also like to contact Jessi again in the hopes that she’ll write me back soon and I can have a good old fashioned feeling-awesome-about-Love high like I used to while working for Domino’s.
What else? I made one revelation while I was in Amsterdam about the voice inside my head. I realised that this voice is actually just my brain talking to my consciousness. It is not my consciousness itself. My consciousness is God looking at the world through my brain, and the voice in my head is just my brain telling God what it thinks is going on. I’ll have to develop that idea further on down the line, but I really like it.
Also, last night after watching What Dreams May Come and while listening to music as the high wore off, I got to thinking about my writing and I realised I need to keep doing it. I’ve got all sorts of new ideas about how to fix the first Andromeda, so I’m going to completely out-line it and write the sequel. Then I’m going to go back and re-write Andromeda, and then re-write the sequel. So I’ll be writing the sequel this time knowing full well that it’s going to be re-written. And not only once, but twice. Because once I’ve rewritten Andromeda and the sequel, I’m going to write the third book. Then I’ll have the whole story, and I will go back and re-write Andromeda and the sequel again, as well as do another re-write of the third book. This may take me 50 years for all I know, but it must be done and I will do it.
So that’s what happened in Amsterdam and that’s what’s going on now. I probably won’t write again for another three weeks or so, unless I get an e-mail from Jessi within that time. You know how it goes.
12:11 Tuesday, 01 February 2005
Well, it’s been a very very long time since I last wrote an entry, and there are many reasons for that. First of all, nothing has happened that I’ve really felt has been worth writing about. Second, whenever there is anything remotely interesting that happens, I’ve got Corey to tell all about it. We’ve been sending many e-mails to each other each day, so that’s the only release necessary. I don’t need this journal.
However, last night I saw a film which got me thinking a lot, and I realised that I respect myself a lot more, and feel that my life is a bit more meaningful whenever I’m keeping a journal. So I’m going to start writing again. The hardest part was getting myself to do it, but now that I’ve begun it shouldn’t be too difficult to continue.
For starters I’ll just catch up with everything that’s gone on since my last entry. After Amsterdam we didn’t go anywhere for awhile, and the weed ran out rather quickly but I wasn’t too upset when it was gone. I just went back to drinking beer on an almost nightly basis, like all these Germans seem to do. Except I do it alone while they only drink socially in groups.
Let’s see….There was Thanksgiving which sucked. All I did was eat some chicken and watch Snooker on Eurosport. Then came Christmas, which was kind of fun. I stayed with my family in Ichenheim and drank beer on a nightly basis with them. I practiced my German a lot but I didn’t learn anything new. I was reading a book for class while there, and because it was in English my mind wasn’t constantly thinking German as it should have been. But anyway, on New Years’ Eve I went with my cousin Melanie to a small party in Karlsruhe where everyone exploded fireworks in the middle of the city in large crowd of people at midnight. Which was awesome—walking down the street with an open bottle of Sekt in one hand and a bunch of explosives in the other, the police just driving by and not caring.
Then came January, and I’d made up my mind to drink less beer and smoke more weed. Finding weed was a very difficult task. A kid named Khristian said he found hashish at one of the Turkish Döner Kebab shops in Sachsenhausen. One night after drinking there we stopped and I asked one of the guys if he knew where I could get hash and he denied knowing. The next guy seemed like he had it but when I asked for 10 grams, he told me he didn’t. Later I found out that 10 grams is the legal limit for how much you can carry before it’s an arrestable offence.
So the next day I wandered around the middle of the city in search of a Turk who might have something. I wore the hat I bought in Amsterdam in the hopes that this would draw a drug dealer’s attention to me. I don’t really look like the kind of guy who smokes. But it worked…sort of. While I was heading towards a train in the U-Bahn station, a Turk spotted me and as I walked past him he whispered something in my ear. I turned around and told him in German that I was looking for hash, and he told me to follow him. He asked me if I was British and I told him I was American and that I wasn’t a tourist but studying here for the year. He introduced himself and told me his name that I forgot, then led me down a bunch of back alleys until he stopped somewhere and told me to wait for five minutes. This was all really sketchy and I felt very uneasy about the whole thing, but I was so determined to get the shit that I stayed for ten minutes until he came back and sold me 5 grams for 30 Euros. I didn’t have any 10s so I gave him 40, but he didn’t give me change. As soon as the exchange was made he told me to walk in the other direction so I left. When I got back to my room I examined what he gave me, which looked like ordinary rocks picked up from the street. But I so wanted to believe it was hash, and not having much experience with hash, I broke off some pieces and tried to smoke it. It didn’t get me high, but I placeboed myself into believing it had some effect, though really I knew it didn’t. I invited the other Americans over to look at it and they confirmed what I’d suspected—these were just rocks.
So the next night I went to the kitchen and drank with the Germans, and almost as soon as I sat down one of the Romanian students, named Andrei, said something about “kiffen” which of course means “to smoke weed.” So I used the opportunity to break in and mention that I’d bought some fake hash, and since I’d been planning to all along I had the stuff in my pocket. I laid it on the table and everyone had a good laugh. Then Andrei told me that if I wanted weed all I had to do was ask him. He knows someone who has really good grass. So I said I was definitely interested, and a few days later he asked me for some money. I gave him 50 Euros and he came back the next day with a bag filled with weed and hash. In my over-excited state I rolled a joint with a very decent amount of weed and smoked it all to my face.
I couldn’t believe the result. I got the most high I’ve been since I started smoking. Higher than I was in Ansterdam. This was the best shit I’ve ever smoked. The next two weeks were spent watching movies, listening to music, and smoking with the other Americans who suddenly seemed to want to hang out with me a lot more than before. I only finished the stuff last night. And just a few minutes ago I gave Andrei some more money. He’ll be back tonight with another bag.
So I’ve been enjoying myself a lot more recently. Thinking much deeper and appreciating things a lot more. Hopefully this will continue.
But other things have been happening aside from the weed stuff. This past weekend the other Americans and I went to Köln. (Since Amsterdam we’ve also taken trips to Nürnburg last year and Regensburg this year, the former being much cooler than the latter). We stayed at a hostel and saw lots of museums and churches. The most intense moment came when we climbed the tower of the cathedral and saw the city from high above. As I often do when I’m experiencing something incredible, I thought about how much more enjoyment I would get out of it were I to be sharing it with someone I love. I’d been thinking about Jessi a lot during the train ride, and the feeling of missing her was particularly strong at that moment. And just then I looked at the wall, and amidst all the graffiti of people who’d written their names and messages at the top of the cathedral, I saw in black magic marker the name “Jessi” spelled exactly like that and with a circle to dot the “i” like Jessi would do. I stared at it for awhile and touched it, wondering if perhaps she’d been to this place as well, perhaps even written that herself.
But the result was an interesting one. I carried her with me for the rest of the day in my thoughts, and everything seemed a bit more real, a bit better. When I was focussing on Love, and seeing everything in terms of that, life just seemed a lot more beautiful.
As far as Jessi goes, I have not heard from her since the last time I mentioned it in this journal. I sent her an e-greeting card on her birthday but never got a response. And sometime last month I sent a final e-mail to her telling her about New Years’ but more importantly acknowledging that she’s probably lost interest and if I don’t hear from her again I won’t bother her with any more e-mails. It’s been weeks so I doubt she’ll ever respond. My biggest worry is that she’s dead. I haven’t even seen her on-line since last year. Of course, the more likely explanation is that she either got a new screen-name or decided to block me for some reason. Maybe she finally read my book.
But what I’ve come to realise, or rather what I’ve always known but have come to accept, is that Jessi herself means nothing to me. I was never in Love with her, only what she did for me, and did to me. Those emotions that I get from the feeling of Love, or at least what Love means to me, are emotions that I’m absolutely obsessed with. I love being in love. It doesn’t matter with whom. It’s just that deep deep longing, that feeling in the core of every cell in your body, the sensation that there is something so important that you’d be willing to sacrifice everything for it. That’s what I love. And I’ll find someone else to take Jessi’s place.
The film I saw last night is what finally confirmed all this for me. It’s called What the !@#$ Do We Know? and it’s similar to Waking Life in that there are a bunch of interviews with very intelligent people talking philosophically about science and psychology, surrounding a central “story” line. The difference was this was live-action, had nothing to do with dreams, and focussed largely on the quantum-mechanics of the universe. Apparently according to quantum-mechanics, everything I believed in my philosophy is true. Everything exists as a potentiality, and we create our own realities by what we choose to observe. There’s no difference between the images we see in the external world and what we see in our minds when we picture it. When we’re not looking at something, it exists only as waves, but when we look and acknowledge its existence, it becomes particles. Particles which are constantly jumping in and out of existence.
But anyway, I’ll need to see it a few more times before really chewing it up and applying my philosophy to it. What affected me most was the part dealing with human emotions. How emotions are chemicals released by an organ in your brain and sent into the body whenever a certain feeling triggers it. Emotions are made of some of the same chemical stuff as heroin, so it’s easy for us to get addicted to them.
For the longest time I didn’t want to believe that emotions were chemicals in the brain. I wanted to believe that they were actually something deeper and more spiritual than that, a product of the soul itself. But it makes more sense that they do manifest themselves physically. Not only that, but we can get addicted to certain emotions, and create our realities so as to satisfy those specific emotional needs. For me, my greatest addiction is unrequited love. The feeling of rejection and worthlessness. I developed my addiction when my father abandoned me, strengthened it through Sara, Aimee, Lauren, and Jessi, and to this day I haven’t been able to break that pattern.
Some people are addicted to sex. Everyone is a sexual being and has desires, but some people have a much greater need to fill those desires. I’m actually stronger for not needing to fill the desire. My only addiction is having the desire, which is much easier to fulfil.
Perhaps the most important thing is that this finally answers the burning question I’ve always had about Love: does it just happen randomly without my consent, or do I actually choose whom to fall in Love with? Well, now I know that it’s entirely up to me. I can pick anyone at all, and if I choose to focus on that person as an object of desire, I will develop the same emotions I’ve felt for those other people, the same peptides will be released to work their magic on my cells. I’ve always chosen people who’ve been out of reach and unattainable because that’s exactly the way I want it.
The question then becomes clear: should I change this? Because it’s quite possible to change it. All I have to do is break the cycle. My neurons are hard-wired in a certain way to make the same thing happen over and over again. But all I have to do is recognise whenever those thought patterns are beginning, and interrupt them. Break apart the connections and rewire them completely by thinking a new way. I could do this, but I still haven’t decided whether or not I want to.
Because the basic truth is, I love how this is all working out. The constantly isolation suits me wonderfully. And it’s not even just Love—socialisation is another addiction I’m free of. I have my social needs, but not nearly as much as most of the people in the world. I never developed that need to constantly be around other people. This has left me rather isolated, but undisturbed by it. I could live my entire life by myself and feel just fine about it. I could live my entire life alone, without anyone to love me, without any friends at all, and be perfectly content because my brain is hardwired differently. Whether this is an advantage or a disadvantage, I haven’t decided yet. But it’s my decision. If I decide I like it better this way, it will be better. If I choose to hate it and wish it were different, then it will in fact be a bad thing. It’s all about how I decide to look at it, what I choose to see. What I decide to make reality into.
That’s a decision I haven’t made yet. What I do know is that I feel at my strongest when I’m in Love. I feel inspired, that the world is a painful but very beautiful place, and that life is absolutely worth living. Of course, all this comes from an unfulfilled desire. But that’s all I need. I’ve got a reality in which the only thing I require for deep spiritual satisfaction is the desire itself. I’ve never known the fulfilment of that desire, so why should I need it? Why not just love and cherish the desire? Leave the object of that desire out of the picture? The object is, in all actuality, inconsequential.
I’m still digesting all of this, but I know I’m going to put some of this to the test. I’m not sure I’ve mentioned Nathalie in this journal before, but she’s this beautiful girl who lives on my floor here in this dorm. I’ve purposefully avoided thinking about her too much because I know if I were to focus my desire on her, absolutely nothing would come of it and I’d just get myself into another downward spiral. But now that I understand the emotion better, I realise that the spiral isn’t necessarily going down. In fact, it’s really an upward spiral. When I’m in Love with someone, all of my emotional needs are satisfied, even though it paradoxically comes from the lack of emotional satisfaction. So all I need to do in life to stay constantly inspired, to feel as I felt last spring when I rediscovered Love in Jessi, is to always have someone on whom to focus my desire. And they need never know about it.
So I’m going to try and intentionally fall in Love with Nathalie. This is something I’ve never tried before, probably for fear of realising that Love isn’t what I always thought it was. But if I succeed, it will be an incredibly breakthrough. A true turning point in my life—the kind I wanted to have while here. My whole perception of Love and emotion will change completely and bring me into a new paradigm of thought, but I think it’s about time for a change anyway.
Life can still be beautiful and spiritual if you accept that Love is an illusion. You don’t have to hold it on a high pedestal and worship it as though it were God. It’s just another aspect unique to human life. Love is different for everybody. My kind of love is unique to my life. Why not appreciate what I’ve got? There are so many beautiful things in this world, which is itself just an idea. What can we do but appreciate all the beautiful details? Nature as well as human nature. Science as well as art. Emotion as well as thought. Of all these things, my favourite is Love. Although it may just be a reaction between the cells of my body and some chemicals sent by my brain, that doesn’t mean it can’t have a deeper meaning. When you consider that we’re all just ideas of God, we are all Gods of ourselves, connected to the entire Universe and to each other, and that all these chemicals and particles are ideas of God, why not have a physical explanation of Love? It may just be a chemical reaction, but to me it is the greatest of chemical reactions. It is a part of who I am…who I have chosen to be. All I have to do is recognise that it’s my decision, that I’ve indeed chosen everything that I am and I am free to decide something else at any time. The world immediately looks like a much better place.
I made up my mind a long time ago to choose Love over everything else. Now I’m finally realising just what that actually means.
12:29 Thursday, 03 February 2005
Yesterday was my 21st birthday. This is supposed to be a milestone birthday for Americans, as I am now legally able to purchase alcohol. However, here in Germany it means nothing. Nevertheless, I actually ended up having a really good time.
Shortly after I woke up I logged on to IM and spoke to Justin about what we should do tonight. Since he was just sitting on his lazy ass, I said he could do that over here and smoke if he wanted. He suggested we buy some cigars and roll a blunt. I couldn’t object. So after a short outing into the city we came back with some cigars, I rolled a blunt and invited other people over, and before I knew it there were four of us. We smoked the blunt, which was delightful (as blunts were always the method of choice back at Autumn Lane) and got really blazed and watched internet tv. A little bit later we took bong rips. Then we split up and waited for Rachel to get back from class (which I had decided wisely to skip) and went out to eat. Upon returning Dave and Rachel snuck off and had some “unexpected schlafen” (to use Rachel’s exact words) while Justin, Khristian, and I started things up here again with some card drinking games and a spliff of weed, hash, and tobacco. I called Jesse and he came up. And soon enough Dave and Rachel “woke up” and came over. So for a few hours there were 6 people in my room smoking, lightly drinking, playing card games, etc. and it was just a nice little fun social gathering. The kind I like. I would have liked things to get a little crazier, but they didn’t and I really don’t care. My birthday is over so I don’t have to worry about it being crazy anymore. I enjoyed every minute of it, so that’s all that matters.
As far as my new outlook on life goes, it was with me yesterday for sure. I was in such a great mood all day that it surprised me. And I’m positive I’ll be able to keep it up today. No more brooding about my isolation and loneliness. About Jessi or Lauren or any of the other girls who wouldn’t be able to do anything for me even if I had them. There’s no reason to be upset about such things now that I know I got exactly what I wanted out of them. Just someone to love for awhile who would not love me back. The beauty of unfulfilled desire. The pleasure of pain.
So far I’ve only seen Nathalie twice, very briefly, since I decided to try and fall in Love with her. But both times I noticed my heart skipping a few more beats than usual. This could turn into something if I make it. But if I only see her for a few seconds a day, it might not work so easily. But we’ll see how things turn out. I wasn’t too focussed on her yesterday. It may take a few weeks, but if I can develop enough feelings for her I’ll probably be a lot more motivated to hang out with the german kids at night, thus being able to see her, attempt conversation, and secretly long for her with every ounce of my being. We’ll see. The real test of course is what kind of emotions will come out of this. The last time I fell in Love I managed to get a whole lot of happiness out of it, whereas I usually bring only pain and the occasional jolt of ecstacy from some meaningless event. If I can turn things around enough for myself to be able to fall in Love with someone I can’t have and bring mostly happiness out of it, I’m set for life. Get myself addicted to that instead of the pain and misery I’ve been addicted to up until now. Jessi turned that around for me. The Love neurons were still there but the emotions released by my epiglottis were not the usual ones. So I’m still addicted to Love, but if I’m conscious of it I can alter the addiction to something more inspiring and less debilitating.
At any rate it should be an interesting experiment. What a grand adventure this life is.
12:41 Monday, 07 February 2005
After an uneventful, completely emotionless weekend, I woke up this morning immediately after an eventful dream full of emotion. Jessi was in it, which is now a rarity as she hasn’t been in a non-lucid dream of mine for quite some time. (Incidentally, I was getting quite good at lucid dreaming until the change in year, when my search for weed became my main priority). Because of the weed, most of the details were lost as soon as I got up, but before five seconds could go by I reached for the notebook and scribbled down everything I could remember. It was after a dream having to do with working for Domino’s (of course) but instead of driving I was being driven home by my dad or something. But the strangest part was that Jessi was also in the car, sitting in the middle seat between me and my dad. I think she was sick or something and I really wanted to help her, talk to her, become friends with her…something of that nature. During the ride she got a call on her cell-phone from a kid named Sean (the name of Lauren’s on-again-off-again-boyfriend) and immediately informed him that I was in the car, as though she was trying to hide something from me. It seemed like she was deliberately trying to get me to love her while at the same time trying to make sure I couldn’t have her.
Needless to say, this dream struck me to the core of my emotional core. I spent the morning considering it from the new thought-paradigm I’ve entered, and came up with interesting results. In the shower I was thinking about how I had chosen to fall in love with Jessi because she was perfect for all those negative peptides I’d grown so used to. But I didn’t constantly choose to fall in love with her. It was something in the back of my mind, in my subconscious, that made that decision and I just didn’t fight it. But I never actually consciously said to myself, “I should fall in love with this girl because she’s bound to bring about all sorts of feeling of pain and rejection.” I knew it, but I ignored it consciously until I could no longer ignore it. But by then I was already in love.
I then started thinking about why it didn’t seem to be working that I’ve chosen to fall in love with Nathalie. My feelings for her have not grown at all since I decided to fall in love with her. In fact I seem to have been thinking about her even less. While this is partially attributable to the weed and the fact that I’ve hardly been seeing her, I think there’s a deeper explanation which also explains truckloads about the patterns by which I fall in love.
If I were to consciously choose to fall in love with Nathalie, I’d be sacrificing a lot of those emotions I wanted to obtain by falling in love with her in the first place. Many of the emotions I associate with love, the kind that I’m addicted to that inspire and motivate me to think greatly and do great things…those would all be lost if I knew I’d chosen to fall in love. Those emotions are those of victimization. Of feeling that this was something that happened to me that I couldn’t help. A product of my father abandoning me at a young age and throwing me into an emotional cycle that I have no hope of breaking out of. If I know that I specifically chose a situation where I could feel victimized, that eliminates the feeling of victimization, thus making the love completely pointless.
Which, I realised with extreme surprise, is exactly the reason I’ve been falling in love in the confusing way in which I do. I’m never quite sure whether it’s something I couldn’t control, or whether it was my decision all along. In actuality, whenever I meet someone whom I think will provide me with those emotions I’m addicted to, a switch goes off in my subconscious and I either choose to embrace it or fight it. The kicker is that if I embrace it, I risk losing it. If I decide yes, it would be perfect for me to fall in love with this person, I don’t get those victimization emotions and my subconscious realises it’s going in the wrong direction and I don’t fall in love. But if I decide no, that I don’t want to fall in love with this person because it would be all too painful, then it happens. That happened unquestionably with Lauren, and also with Jessi. When I saw that I could fall in love with this 14-year-old girl and suffer from all the pain of how it could and never would work out between us, my subconscious had its sights set. Of course, consciously I was aware of the benefits of falling in love, but I was also quite afraid of the detriments. I knew that nothing could ever work with Jessi and it would be a bad idea to get my heart set on her. Thus, my heart got itself fixed on her. The difference this time was that while the hypothalamus was producing all those familiar emotions of pain and despair, Jessi’s kind and over-friendly nature insipired a few new emotions, and happiness also started being produced by the hypothalamus. Thus, love took on a new dimension, and happiness became something to strive for. She completely broke the cycle and turned my life around.
So now I recognise the cycle. I know how and why I fall in love and I know exactly what emotions I crave that I get out of it. This naturally raises two very important questions. The first is: can I change it? Easily answerable: yes. Of course I can change it, as long as I believe I can. And since it’s my brain I don’t think I’m incapable of changing it. The second question is far more important: do I want to change it?
It’s obvious that I get the most out of life when I’m in love and feeling those emotions that come from it. I’m inspired, I feel like my life has meaning, I’m motivated to be healthy and to write and try and contribute to art and society and whatnot. So I know I’m not abandoning love. The question is whether I want to stick to the type of love I’m used to, or try to get myself on another path, completely give up that unrequited, pain-and-despair-fill love that I’ve always gone for up until now.
Because now that I’m aware that Love is a conscious decision, my subconscious might not work as well in choosing it. Whenever that switch goes on I’ll be conscious of it and thus it becomes my choice. I can’t choose something because my subconscious knows it will bring a lot of pain, because I know that I’ll have chosen that pain, thus making it almost meaningless. The major appeal of pain is believing you’re a victim of it and you couldn’t prevent it. Happiness on the other hand, is only aided by the idea that you had a hand in bringing it about. So should I start interrupting the cycle of negative Love, looking for people I could be happy with and trying to attack it from that angle? Or should I continue on with my self-fulfilling prophecy of never finding love and always being alone, now that I’m fully aware it’s totally my decision and the pain I feel can be overcome and forgotten? The pain is what has given my life meaning so far, but can it continue to do so now that I know it’s pain I’m consciously choosing? If I have the capability of choosing happiness, and thanks to Jessi I’m no longer averse to the idea of happiness or unfamiliar with the feeling of happiness combined with Love, why not simply choose to be happy and in Love instead of in pain through unrequited Love?
I don’t have to answer this question now. All I know is that it would be completely pointless to try and fall in love with Nathalie because my conscious mind is too aware of what it’s doing and the subconscious knows it won’t get any victimization if it chooses to dwell on her until it becomes and obsession. But simply by looking at that I’ve gained a new insight: perhaps the days of falling in love with a girl just because she’ll bring back that pain of rejection and abandonment I’ve been craving all my live are already over. Perhaps now that I’ve recognized these patterns so obviously, they are already disrupted and can no longer form. Perhaps I’m already cured.
12:37 Tuesday, 08 February 2005
I’m not quite sure what it really means to be “cured.” Last night I had another dream involving Jessi, and I woke up feeling all that forgotten love and emotion. In the dream I never actually saw her, but I was back at my elementary school for some reason and was helping put up chairs in preparation for an assembly. Someone handed me a list of names of students whom I could call out of class to help out. Something in me knew this was Jessi’s school, and I quickly spotted her name on the list with her number beside it. I could easily have called her and asked her to come help with the assembly, but I was too afraid to talk to her and I gave someone else the list and made them do the calling.
Regardless of what it means, it was interesting to have such a detailed, vivid dream on a night after smoking heavily. I’ve been recording the bits and pieces of dreams I can remember recently, which is much more difficult when weed is involved, but not impossible. The dreams seem to be getting clearer and clearer every night. With a little more practice I should be able to recognise when I’m dreaming and lucid dream even when there’s weed in my system. Then I can kiss Jessi again or something.
I don’t know where I left off with dreaming in this journal, but so far I’ve kissed Jessi twice in my dreams, as well as done the same with Sara (the easiest to find of them all) as well as Lauren and even Nathalie (both in the same lucid dream which I believe I recorded). But since this new year I haven’t had any lucid dreams worth speaking of. When I do get lucid I usually wake up before I can accomplish anything.
But enough about that, I was talking about Love. This dream made me wonder whether my subconscious is compensating for the lack of emotional peptides in my waking life. Since my cells are addicted to love, specifically Jessi, it creates situations in my dreams in which my love for Jessi can be felt. The curious thing is that all these cells in my body, if that is the case, are feeling the same thing they would be feeling if I was awake. The mind is asleep and imagining these feelings, but the body is actually feeling them. So the feelings themselves are very real, even if you dismiss the dream world as illusory.
It also made me contemplate how every cell in my body is in love with Jessi. Or at least, every cell is addicted to the emotional response I have to love, which at this point in life is directed at a girl named Jessi.
Damn, things are a lot less romantic when you think about them in these terms. But it’s a lot more easy to think about them objectively. I guess that’s the key. When I held on to the conviction that Love is somehow deeper and greater than all things, there were basic steps in changing my life that I simply couldn’t take because abandoning this kind of love was out of the question. Now that I realise what this love really is, and that there’s nothing deeper or special about it other than what I choose to make of it, it presents a whole new world of options.
I still haven’t decided whether to give it up or not. I’m still not sure how easy it would be to break this cycle of unrequited love should I choose to do so. But now it’s an option. It’s just that right now it’s basically immaterial. Whether I choose to recognise my love for Jessi or not makes only a slight difference. It’s the difference between spending a few minutes a day thinking about her, or not thinking about her. But as painful as it is sometimes to think about her, it is by no means a detriment to me. It doesn’t crush me in despair and bring me to tears of sorrow. It’s just the kind of thing I sigh about. Not really earth-shattering, just a soft underlying feeling of depression. A very, very comfortable feeling that I’ve been carrying since childhood and was debilitating me the whole time. As of now, while she is thousands of miles away across the ocean, this feeling is far from debilitating. It’s purely invigorating, as there is no other source of that kind of emotion which I have yet found over here. Juliana might have been able to fill that (though I’m still not sure why) and Nathalie also may be able to do it if I can convince myself I’m falling in love with her against my will, but I don’t really see anybody over here taking Jessi’s place. Perhaps that’s part of it.
When Sara left after 7th grade, I never expected to get over her. In fact, through all of 8th grade and almost half of 9th, I never felt the same way about any other girl, though there were minor infatuations I sometimes convinced myself were Love. Then Aimee came along, and I was absolutely convinced that was it and I would never fall out of love with her for as long as I lived. All through 10th grade and most of 11th I stayed in love with Aimee, which was far easier than in other instances because she was there all the time. Then after being in love with Lauren for all of 12th grade, and writing about a character who never gets over Lauren, I followed in that path for all of freshmen and half of sophomore year, not finding someone else until Jessi last year. Even before I left for Germany I had it in my mind that I would not find someone else while over here, and when I go back she’ll be there waiting for my friendship. That’s probably false, but deep down I haven’t abandoned it, and it’s more than likely that I’ll go this entire year and well into the next before finding anybody else. It’s been going in 2-year cycles since Sara, with 3 out of 4 situations having a buffer period of a year in which I don’t see the girl but still hold on to my love for them.
This is a pattern. It’s far more than coincidence. It’s obvious that I keep recreating this situation over and over again, roughly a re-enactment of loving my father, him leaving, and me holding on to that until I find something to replace it. I’ve discovered the pattern, I know it’s there, but the question always comes back to the same two things: how can I break it? and do I want to?
And I can never reason out a good answer. I know how much this cycle hurts me, but I also know how much I love it and I’m dependent on it. This pattern is now ingrained into the very cells of my body. Each cell that composes who I am knows this pattern and when it dies it passes on this knowledge to each replacement cell. My body is this machine, constantly recreating this same occurrence which is simultaneously the most meaningful wonderful thing in my life and a constant source of torturous depression. I guess that’s the human drama. I suppose I’ll just consider myself lucky that my particular drama is so interesting and unique.
12:50 Friday, 11 February 2005
Today is the last day of the semester, or rather, the last day I will have class this semester. I still have three big papers to write, but I’ve got two months in which to write them. At any rate, I don’t really care.
Another dream last night, but it was really hazy. Back in high school, saw Lauren but couldn’t talk to her…apparently a reprise of an all-too-common theme I used to have, particularly in my first year of college. I would go back to high school, Lauren would be there, but nothing would happen. It’s just that since then I’ve also had dreams in which I’d get closer to Lauren and we’d actually talk or something. But this was another one of those dreams where such a thing was impossible. I saw her and she saw me, but that was it. I know that at one point I realised I was dreaming but for some reason I couldn’t do anything about it. Weird dream logic made me think that once I realised I was dreaming I couldn’t change the dream. But it doesn’t really matter.
What really gets me is the fact that it’s been two and a half years since I last saw Lauren, and she’s still haunting me in my dreams. She ceased to be a “real” part of my life a very long time ago, but she’s still very much a part of my life. I still feel the same sadness whenever I think of her. I still feel that love whenever I picture her face.
And I never really knew her at all. I knew she existed and I knew some things about her, but I never found out who she really is. And I never will. And although I’m perfectly aware that it doesn’t matter and it’s not her but the emotions she stirs in me that I’m in love with, it still affects me. What I wouldn’t give for just one chance to see her again and maybe talk to her. Even though there’s nothing I could say to her, I would die for a chance to say something.
I still love Aimee too. I’ve piled all sorts of negative emotions on to her, still blaming her deep inside for all my loneliness and problems (because the fact remains if she’d gone out with me way back in the late fall of 1998, my life would have been much different. Instead she got scared of me and sent me into a lifelong downward spiral that I’ve never recovered from. The cycle existed before Aimee, but she could have broken it. When I chose to go after her, it was out of the desire to break that very cycle. I hadn’t even fallen in Love with her yet. I wanted to try going out with someone whom I didn’t love. That could have made a world of difference in my dating life. Instead she rejected me, I fell in love with her, and the cycle continued with even more ferocity than before. As I loved her, she hated me, and I grew to love that hatred. I grew to love the excruciating pain she caused inside of me which nearly killed me on numerous occasions. Then one day Lauren looked at me and smiled and I transferred all that crap on to her. As I grew to love Lauren I seemed to grow out of Love with Aimee until I finally convinced myself I was not only over her, but hated her for what she did to me.
But yesterday as I was talking to Corey, Aimee was mentioned and we talked about the possibility of him actually meeting her. He said he’d like to beat the shit out of her for what she did to me, and that sparked something curious. I couldn’t stand the thought of it, and all those blockaded feelings of Love that I once had for her came flooding back. Aimee, the bane of my existence, whom I will love until the moment I die.
But once again it doesn’t matter. It’s all just peptides and the receptors my cells have for them. They have so few receptors for anything but love and pain, it’s nearly impossible for me to feel deeply about anything unless the emotion of Love is attached to it. If it’s got nothing to do with love, it’s hard for me to care about it. It just doesn’t matter to me.
So I’ve been feeling pretty worthless recently. There is no love in my life right now. Aimee and Lauren are long gone (though it’s still quite possible I’ll see Aimee again randomly next year as she does go to my college) and Jessi has disappeared from my world altogether. I haven’t even seen her on IM for months and months which makes me uneasy but I’m trying really hard not to jump to the conclusion that she’s dead. It’s far more likely, and I’d much rather believe that she just uses a different screen name now and has retired the one she gave me. But anyway, it doesn’t matter.
I’ve just been rambling since I began this entry. I guess this whole entry was just an excuse for me to think about Love and feel those long forgotten feelings. As well as to convince myself that somehow I did something meaningful today by writing. As much as I’d like to believe that’s true, it’s obvious to me that it doesn’t matter.
12:57 Tuesday, 15 February 2005
There’s a strong possibility that Jessi is dead, and it drives me crazy whenever I seriously consider it. It could just be my deepest fears getting ahold of me again, as I always used to be paranoid about whomever I love suddenly and tragically dying, but this time there are actual reasons to believe this has happened. First and foremost are her numerous health problems, including the anemia which she’s been hospitalised for in the past. Add that to the fact that I haven’t heard from her or even seen her on-line in months and I’ve got pretty good reasons to worry. Of course, this could easily be explained by something as simple as the fact that she doesn’t use the particular screen name she gave me anymore, but until that fact becomes proven to me I’ll be forced to worry about her death.
I dreamed about her again last night. Nothing huge and I don’t even really remember the specifics, but I knew upon waking that she’d been in the dream and I lay awake for a good while just pondering my feelings for her and the dark notions I have regarding her possible death.
It looks like that “life-changing” movie I saw the other week wasn’t so life-changing after all. It certainly changed the way I look at love and emotions, but it hasn’t really made any difference in the way I live my life. I’m still hopelessly addicted to the emotion of unrequited, hopeless love, and even when I avoid thinking about it consciously, my subconscious is always poised and ready to remind me and give my cells a nice refresher of those peptides they’re so dependent on.
But that’s the way it always has been and unless a real life-changing event takes place at some point, that’s the way it’s always going to be. I’m never going to stop loving girls like Jessi or Lauren whom I’ll never have. And if Jessi really is dead, that will cement my eternal devotion to her for the rest of my life.
At any rate, I’m not going to wait until I have some sort of confirmation that she’s dead before devoting myself to her. I’ve already done that, and I’ve already started writing a book which will forever immortalise my love for her. That other book, Between Dreams that I wrote for her before leaving, will remain a failed experiment in love and literature forever, and will never see the light of day as a published novel.
Then again, it’s probably that none of my works will ever reach such a state. At this particular moment I’m feeling very motivated (and I’m out of weed) so it’s likely I’ll have some actual writing done by the time the day is over. However, nothing of what I write today will ever see publication either, as I’m merely writing a first draft that will have to be rewritten two or three times if it has any prayer of ever becoming publishable.
So what happens if Jessi is really dead? What happens if I go back to New Jersey and take up my job again, and on my first day back my boss says to me, “Do you remember Jessica? She died last year”? Will I crumble up and sink to the ground in an overwhelming state of sorrow and despair? Or will I just take it in and hide my feelings as I’ve been doing forever, go about my day and wait until I’m home to explode with rage and regret? I guess that doesn’t matter, because I’ll find out when and if it happens. The point is that I think I’m old enough and mature enough to handle it now, whereas if something like this had happened in high school, like if Aimee died while I was in the height of my obsession with her, I know beyond a doubt I would have killed myself. If Jessi’s dead I know I’ll be tempted, but I probably won’t do it. And that says nothing about the strength of my love for her…only how I view and interpret the love for her.
I’m just rambling on without any point at all actually. All I know is that the thought of Jessi dead scares the shit out of me, and as much as I can successfully manage to put it out of my mind, the fear is always haunting me somewhere in the back corner of my brain, patiently waiting to be made into reality and send me plunging to some unknown depths of the worst kind of emotion known to man.
13:50 Wednesday, 16 February 2005
Yesterday I mentioned my fear of Jessi being dead to Corey in an e-mail, and he responded by saying I should just call her and find out. Naturally, I didn’t really care for this idea but I couldn’t argue with its logic. If she picked up I could just hang up, no harm done, and be able to rest assured that she’s still alive. If the number was no longer in service, I’d have a reason to be afraid.
So around midnight, after a few drinks to ease my inhibitions, I gave it a try. Her phone did not ring at all, so it must have been off. I got sent immediately to her voicemail, and heard her say, “I’m not here right now, leave a message…” before hanging up in terror. The shock of hearing her voice again was a bit more than I was prepared for. It was more beautiful than I would have ever imagined it sounding. But I didn’t leave a message. What could I have said. “Hey, this is Kyle I’m calling to see if you’re dead. So if you’re not dead, call me back at….”? No, that would be ridiculous. There’s no hope of maintaining a correspondence with her, she’s already proven that. Even if I send her yet another e-mail and she actually responds, she probably won’t respond to the next one. She’s already completely lost interest in me, most likely all but forgotten me. If she ever thinks about me it’s probably only a fleeting fancy between her normal thoughts of shopping and boys.
Anyway, the fact that her phone was turned off means nothing. But the fact that the number is still in service is strong evidence to suggest that she’s not dead. Which I must say is a great relief. I really don’t care whether she keeps in touch with me or I ever see her again (okay that’s an overstatement—I mean I don’t care that much) as long as she’s alive and living her beautiful life free from asshole guys trying to rape her and pathetic stalkers like me. I don’t belong in her life, as much as I’d like to. She, on the other hand, most certainly belongs in my life, and she will remain a part of me until the day I die, just like Lauren, Sara, and even Aimee. These four girls are a part of me whether they want to be or not, and nothing can take that away from me.
I did start writing again yesterday—I finished a whole chapter in the sequel to Andromeda, and today I’ll write another. That feels extremely good. Eventually I’ll reach the point where the Jessi-inspired character enters the story, and then she’ll forever be a part of the world I’ve created. And there’s nothing she can ever do to change that.
She actually gave me permission to use her in this book. That’s something that’s still pretty incredible to me. Even stranger is that she gave me that permission about a year ago and I still haven’t written her into it. I did write that other book which basically revolved around my love for her, but we all know the results of that.
I thought I had a point, but I guess I don’t. I suppose it’s that I’m glad Jessi is alive, and even if I never see or hear from her again it’s comforting to me that she’ll always be a part of me and a part of the world in my writing.
13:50 Friday, 18 February 2005
Last night I made an attempt to socialise with the Germans. I drank by myself for awhile, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator in the kitchen every so often. There were lots of people in the kitchen so I decided it couldn’t hurt to try and hang out. But when I got there, only three people were left. Nathalie was there, sitting alone at the table while the two others were on the couch in the corner. So I sat down next to Nathalie and actually had a nice chat with her. She was eating a chocolate bar so we talked about how chocolate is different in the United States and for some reason just isn’t as good. After a few minutes, more people came in and brought a TV and DVD player to watch “The Village” (Das Dorf). I stayed for a little while but it was a crappy movie so I left about 20 minutes in.
What surprised me was the level of attraction I now have to Nathalie. I’m still going to try to fall in love with her if I can, as that hardly seems impossible. And if last night is any indication, my feelings towards her are growing every time I see her. And talking to her brings me more pleasure every time. However, my feelings towards her still pale in comparison to my feelings for Jessi or Lauren. I know what falling in love normally feels like to me, and this definitely does not feel like that.
Corey and I have been arguing frequently over the past few days. Two days ago I told him about peptides and how emotions work, and he got extremely upset and angry because he doesn’t want to believe it, which I understand, but his reaction was completely overboard. And yesterday I mentioned how I’ve been pretty frustrated over the past few days as I have no weed and the Romanian kid who is supposed to take me to get more has been putting it off for a week. Of course we got into the whole argument about how I should give up weed because it’s becoming a crutch and blah blah blah.
I’m well aware that this is a problem. I’ve known for a long time that my affinity for weed is too great to be healthy, but I just don’t care. Life’s a piece of shit and weed makes it bearable. Yes it’s a crutch, but one I will gladly hold on to for as long as it takes. The only thing that could ever get me to give it up is falling into a loving relationship with a woman who wants me to do so. And since that will never happen, I’ll never give it up.
But when I don’t have weed I have to fill the gap somehow, and beer is the only replacement that comes close to working. However, I fucking hate drinking. It makes me sick, and I’m sick of it. I absolutely hate waking up in the morning feeling like crap and feeling sick for half the day until night rolls around and all I can do is think about drinking more. Every morning I say I’m going to go the day without drinking, but when night rolls around I just can’t resist. Right now I’m planning to stay sober tonight, but we’ll see how I feel after dinner. The whole things sucks.
It’s not so much the fact that I don’t have any weed that sucks, but the fact that it has such a large effect on me. I was in good spirits most of the time when I had the weed, but as soon as it ran out I fell back into my normal state of constant depression and agitation. I wish I could just be satisfied with life sober, but all sobriety does is make me have to face the bullshit that is my life, and focus on all the ways it sucks. Loneliness. Consant unbearable loneliness afflicts me, and the only escape from the problem is weed. Perhaps I shouldn’t be trying to escape it but rather be trying to fix it. But fuck that. My life is always going to suck, whether I try to fix it or not, so I might as well just let myself escape from it, smoke my weed, and feel good about stuff. And it’s not like it’s interfering with anything. I’m usually more motivated and inspired to do things when I’ve got weed.
Whatever. I’m sick of thinking about this. And I’m sick of thinking.
14:22 Thursday, 24 February 2005
Well on the very same day I wrote that last entry the Romanian guy who hooks me up knocked on my door with some fresh weed for me. Since then, I’ve been having a good time and enjoying myself every day. However, I’ve also been feeling rather worthless as most of what I’ve been doing has not been the least bit productive in any sense. That, of course, is the downside of weed.
Yesterday I woke up at nine and spent the morning wandering around the city taking care of things here and there. So I felt productive the whole morning until I got back and settled down to smoke. Then it was right back to feeling worthless, though to a lesser degree than I’d been feeling before taking care of all that shit in the morning. Today, I’m going to write another chapter in my book before smoking, and wait until tonight, after I’ve eaten to start smoking. That’s the way it should be done. That’s the ideal way to smoke weed….to wait until you’ve done the things you’re compelled to do, and only smoke as a reward after you’ve accomplished something. The high is a lot better and you don’t feel guilty at all for being lazy, as you’ve already done your work for the day and now you’re just relaxing. In this manner, you can accomplish anything you set your mind to, AND still smoke weed every day. Of course there are going to be days where you just say “fuck it” and get high all day long, but as long as those don’t occur more often than the productive days, they can’t hurt. But two in a row of days like that and you just feel incredibly worthless and shitty.
The semester is over and I still haven’t bought an interrail pass or made any plans for travelling. I’m waiting to get this residency permit thing cleared up before I go and do anything like that. I’m pretty sure I need to be a resident before I can buy an interrail pass anyway.
Hunter S. Thompson died the other day, which affected me much less than I’d always assumed it would. I don’t have any heros or idols, but Hunter Thompson was one of the men I greatly respected and admired. Such an intelligent, successful writer who managed to make a difference in the world and still have wild incredible times and a lot of fun in life. It was surprising that he killed himself, although if I knew anything about him I’m sure he had a damn good reason. And since it doesn’t look like his friends of family will ever give an indication of that reason, I’ll just go on believing it.
And now I think I’ll stop babbling about nothing and do some actual writing.
15:56 Friday, 25 February 2005
I feel great today. Last night I finally had another dream with Jessi. Although I smoked a lot before going to sleep and most of the details of the dream were lost upon waking up, I made a conscious effort to remember and write down everything I could, and so the most important parts of the dream have stuck with me.
I know that at some point in the dream I became lucid. But very slightly lucid, not completely. I was aware that I was dreaming and I knew what I wanted to do was find Jessi and kiss her, but instead of going out and searching for her I just started kissing the air and trying to make her appear out of nowhere while kissing. Funny thing is, I don’t remember how successful I was. I remember feeling like I wasn’t really kissing anything, and not seeing anything when I opened my eyes, but in the next part of the dream, there she was, but I was no longer lucid.
I was back at work and she was there. And we were talking and flirting like old times and I felt absolutely great about it. Then the boss told me I was done working, and I went into the other room to smoke blunts. The room had a one-way glass window to the main room so I could see Jessi, and I saw her sitting on another guy’s lap. Some asshole I’ve never seen before, but it made me really angry. I remember angrily smoking a cigarette and watching her with her boyfriend.
I woke up shortly thereafter and all those lost emotions I felt for Jessi came rushing back to me and it felt really damn good. It felt meaningful. I wanted to dream of Jessi and I did, and I remembered the dream even when weed usually prevents that. I felt inspired, and I wrote an entire chapter in my book. In the next chapter, I bring her character into the story. So from now on, she’ll be right there when I’m writing.
It’s so great to write a book and create characters and make them say and do whatever you wish. But not only that, the good part is inserting the truth in the fiction. To take your own life, twist it around with your imagination, and create something completely different out of it. To put it in words, to make it really exist in physical form…it really makes you feel like God.
Then I e-mailed Corey, who is still suffering badly from thoughts of Lela, and I wrote a very heart-felt appeal to him about how it does nothing to plea to a God you don’t believe in. What you have to do is become the God you do believe in. The God that is at the centre of all existence, the God that created the world and created you through which to view the world. The God that is always looking out from behind your eyes. You are nothing but molecules and a hunk of flesh called a brain. But this isn’t really you. You are actually the spirit that dwells behind all of those molecules. You are the soul which lies both outside and within the neurons in your brain and the cells in your body. And as this God you can change anything you want, including your own brain. If you are suffering, if you are not satisfied with the life you’ve created for yourself, all you have to do is transcend, to become the God that created you and change your situation. To decide what you want from the world and take it, even if this God doesn’t exist.
Anyway, that’s the message I just want to send to everyone, that I’m devoting my life to try and spread. It’s not like I’m the first person to come up with it. Thousands of great minds have reached virtually identical conclusions, all variations depending solely on the mind of each individual person. But the idea that we are all connected, that everything is one and that at the core of existence there is but One entity creating and experiencing it all…that idea has been around long before me. Yet for some reason not many people are aware of it, and most people don’t even know how to live with it. How to understand that you are not only yourself but also everything and everyone, that the world is what you’ve made it and what you make of it. If everyone understood that and everyone lived by it, I believe the world would be a far better place.
I don’t expect to change the world by myself. The world is already changing. As if there is some great collective consciousness people all over the world are realising the same thing. I happen to be able to put it into words rather eloquently, and I happen to have just the right kind of drive to give me the will to put it into words and spread it around as far and wide as I can. To further along this great paradigm shift in human thought which has been taking place since the time of Nietzsche and will hopefully continue into centuries ahead when everyone around the world is connected enough to share these ideas and figure out where to go from there.
Because we can’t just keep going on believing we’re at the mercy of an omnipotent power which is separate from us. We need to understand that we are a part of that power, that power is inside of us, and if we use it correctly we can accomplish anything, make any experience possible, to create whole new modes of experience and abolish those experiences we no longer want ourselves to have.
Hopefully I’m strong enough to get my message across. And that’s the best I can hope for.
14:06 Monday, 28 February 2005
Lauren was in my dreams last night. I hardly remember anything about it, but I know she was there and I talked to her a bit. But she wasn’t very responsive or friendly. She was there, and that’s all I know. But as usual, when I dream of a girl I love, after waking up I laid in bed for an hour just thinking about her and my whole experience with Love in general. I can’t believe it’s almost 4 years since I fell in love with her. It seems like just a few short months ago that I was sitting in that study hall, my desk turned around to talk to Drew, Lauren facing the front and reading until something she read or something we said struck her as funny, and she looked up from her book, a big beautiful smile on her face, and looked directly into my eyes. That image, possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, burned itself into my mind and is still with me as clear as the day it happened. At that moment I got chills, and for the rest of the day I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks, months, and now 4 years. Just one slight gesture, and that permanent mark was made. Lauren had no idea what she was doing. She didn’t know that just by looking into my eyes and smiling, she would become such a deep, inseparable part of me. And the strange part is that it’s not even her. The Lauren I Love is a creation of my own mind, using only the image of the real Lauren. Only the idea of her. My feelings have nearly nothing to do with Lauren herself. I’ve known this the whole time, and yet I can’t stop thinking about the real Lauren. What she’s doing now, whether she’s kept her virginity, if she’s really as depressed as I always imagined she was, whether she ever thinks of me as a passing fancy…
I don’t know. All I know is that for some reason it’s really depressing me today. When I dreamed of Jessi I felt good and happy, but with Lauren I feel sad and miserable. It’s probably just got to do with other stuff. I’ve been feeling pretty good recently so now I’m just back to the depressed part of my cycle, and I happened to dream of Lauren and get depressed. If I was in good spirits the dream probably would have raised them.
I’m debating whether to write in my book today. The next chapter is absolutely crucial. It’s so important that I’m afraid to write it. I finally bring Jessi into the story, and I’m actually nervous about it. I feel like I have to be in the perfect state of mind. I may be in that state now, I don’t know.
I’m feeling very confused right now actually. I don’t really know how I’m feeling or what I should be feeling or what I should be doing or anything. I’ve got lots of stupid bullshit to take care of but I don’t feel like doing that. I’ve got to write this chapter but I don’t feel like doing that. I’m almost out of weed so I’m not going to do that…I really don’t know what to do. I suppose I’ll just try and write, and see what comes out. If I don’t like it I can always try again.
God, I miss Lauren. I miss Jessi. I even miss Aimee and Sara. Why must I fall in love with these people who neither have anything to do with me nor could they. Sara is too fucked up for me. Aimee is too normal for me. Jessi is too young for me. Lauren is too…afraid of me. But why ask why when I already know the answer? What I should be asking is how to fucking change it, whether change is possible, and most importantly whether change is what I really desire.
17:28 Monday, 28 February 2005
I just had a true religious experience. I’m still shaking from it even though it happened about ten minutes ago. It just came out of nowhere, unexpectedly, then all of a sudden, a complete, mental, emotional, spiritual orgasm hit me.
I had just finished writing that chapter and I decided to “celebrate” (as it was a very difficult chapter to write) by smoking a little and listening to The Pros And Cons of Hitch-Hiking, as Corey has recently rediscovered the album and has been quoting it frequently in his e-mails.
I was just lying there with my headphones on listening to the album, my thoughts drifting back and forth between the past, the present, and possible futures as it always does. I thought of Lauren and Jessi, I thought of what I’ll be doing later tonight, I thought of memorable dreams I’ve had, I thought of the homework I still have to do, and I thought about my book. Then the album approached its end. “Every Stanger’s Eyes” came on and my thoughts began to focus squarely on the music, and on the words being sung.
He’s singing about how with all the random places he goes and people he sees, there is something tying everyone together. The explanation of course is that he’s dreaming, and he recognises himself in every stranger’s eyes because every person in the dream is actually just him. But the meaning is much deeper, if you consider the dream to be a metaphor for life itself. He’s really saying that life itself is nothing more than God’s dream, and we can see ourselves in every stranger’s eyes because we are everybody.
This is nothing new to me. I interpreted those lyrics to mean that a long time ago. I’m not sure that’s how Roger Waters would interpret them, but that’s how I interpret them. But for some reason, these thoughts felt deeper this time. I was really considering what it actually means for everyone including ourselves to just be characters in God’s dream. Then the last verse came along and I got chills as every line made a new sort of sense, a very deep and profound sense.
“And I see signs of half-remembered days” This is referring to how your dreams put together your memories and create new experiences. A single dream combines any number of “half-remembered days.” To look at it deeper, you could say that every time you look at a person you’re seeing signs of half-remembered days, as at some point in existence you were, or are that person, and you’ve experienced the day that you now see another person experiencing.
“I hear bells that chime in strange, familiar ways” This refers to the saying about dreams that everything is both strange and familiar. When applied to life, it could mean that everything is strange to you on the first-dimension because you’ve never experienced it before, but it’s all very familiar to you on the third-dimension because you created it and have already experienced it through so many other eyes.
“I recognise the hope you kindle in your eyes” This sums it all up and the meaning is very clear. We’ve all got the same hope burning inside our eyes. The hope that there really is something deeper than the world we perceive, that we are something greater than the bodies we have, that everything is tied together on the deepest level and All really is One. We all have that hope, whether we are aware of it or not, whether we believe in God or not. We all hope that it’s true. That is something we all share.
And once that thought crossed my mind, God revealed itself to me. The heavens didn’t part and a voice didn’t speak, but I felt it. It was that same state I’ve approached before on drugs, but this time it happened on its own. My body was filled with an intense euphoric sensation, seeming to flow with an untapped energy within. I felt that my consciousness was separate from this body, that my mind was now in another state, that it was now God, directly experiencing Itself through Me. This lasted for at least two minutes as the rest of the album came to an end, and in that time it grew and shrank in intensity. I’d feel tingly all over and then all of a sudden the tingling would disappear and I would feel absolutely nothing, but have the sensation that the room was tumbling over forwards. When it was over I couldn’t move for a moment. I had to consciously take over control of my body again. What’s more, when I closed my eyes or looked at the ceiling I could clearly make out the kind of psychedelic patterns I’ve seen while tripping. Needless to say, this was quite an experience.
I’ve heard all sorts of stories about people having religious experiences like that where they feel they’ve just been directly touched by God and it completely changes their life. This won’t change my life because I already know what direction I’m heading, but it was incredible nonetheless. I’ve also read an article about an atheist psychologist who had an experience like that on a train one day, completely out of nowhere, just all of a sudden feeling euphoric and completely One with the universe, and who dismissed it as nothing divine at all, saying the only thing it proved was the existence of the brain.
I’m sure the feeling I had and the sensation I got was in fact completely of the brain, and you could probably name all of the chemicals that went into making it happen. But the fact that it did happen is enough for me. Of course chemicals are going to be the explanation for how I felt that way, but they don’t explain why. Perhaps the brain is set up to release this outpouring of chemicals whenever you reach a conclusion you deem to be of vast importance. This makes sense, as I used to get the feeling very often when I was first developing my philosophy, lying awake before going to sleep and trying to work out the basic metaphysics of the universe. Whenever I would come to a new realisation that made perfect sense and seemed to be exactly what I was looking for, I would feel the same incredible sensation of having actually looked into the mind of God. Also around that time I learned that St. Augustine experienced this himself a number of times as he was trying to reason out his whole Christian philosophy. Whenever he would have a breakthrough, he would get this feeling of intense euphoria, and he believed it to be the grace of God.
So perhaps it is just a peculiar brain function, but if so it should be well worth examining. This mental, spiritual orgasm may be a random result of evolution, or it may be something deeper. I believe it to be the physical way by which God can reveal himself to his creation.
Since the first ideas of God formed, people have wondered why He doesn’t just reveal Himself. If He wants us to follow His Way, why not simply prove that He exists? He’s capable of everything so why not be capable of that? Christians will tell you it’s because he needs you to have faith. I have a different explanation.
First of all, God has no particular Way that He wants us to follow. God is the force which binds us together and exists through us as our consciousness. It has imagined every life and imagined Itself living them. For the life we know as human beings, It does not want us to be directly aware of It. It wants the purpose of each of Its lives to remain a mystery as It lives them. However, because It is us, and we are It, the answers to the mystery are always available to us. If we search hard enough and think deeply enough, we can find the answers. Not the complete picture, of course, but pieces of it. It does not want to be aware of the whole Truth, but It can be aware of bits and pieces, and It usually makes sure there is always doubt with every realisation, and we can never be sure whether It really exists.
So whenever someone finds such an answer, whenever someone sees a new piece of the Truth, a bit more of It makes Itself known. The way in which It does this is not by magically materialising and creating a mystical sensation in your mind and body. It simply uses the mechanism It has already designed, the brain, to produce certain chemicals and send them shooting throughout your body, as well as to open up certain normally unreachable areas of the mind. Why? To let you know you found It.
So what part of It did I discover today? Well once I realised that I was experiencing God, that It was making Itself aware of its presence in me, I was also aware of Its purpose. It has a different purpose for everyone of course, but there are certain purposes that many people share. Mine, as I am already quite aware, is Love. And I share that purpose with billions of other people in the world, though in a very different way than most of them. Love may be nothing more than a chemical reaction, but these chemicals were designed by God, and It chose to live my life and countless others for the soul purpose of experiencing them. It knows the mechanics behind every action I take, every thought I have, every emotion I feel, but It is not interested in that. It is not conscious as a neuron or a peptide, It is conscious as me. It wants to experience the result of those chemical reactions, the feelings It has so intricately designed.
Sometimes It seeks Power, and It experiences the feeling of striving for and maintaining Power through many people. Sometimes It seeks Money, and creates whole lives devoted to the pursuit of wealth. Sometimes It seeks Suffering, and experiences the cosmic irony of self-imposed agony, people through whom It curses Itself and Its own creation.
All of these lives are nothing more than collections of chemicals interacting with each other, inherently empty of meaning, but when It becomes conscious the life takes on meaning. If you are conscious you must have a purpose. It must have decided to be you for a reason. It wants to experience what you are experiencing, and It is at every instant.
This, I was aware at the Moment of Clarity, is why I am here. This is why It chose to create me, to be me, to experience me. The type of Love that I feel can only be felt by me, and that is what It wants to feel. I am It, and I am right where I want to be. All of the silly little things that make up my life are nothing on the Grand Scale, and at that moment I was thinking on the Grandest of Scales. It is all perfect and beautiful, it is exactly what I want. I can have no experience that It does not want to have.
So now I shall simply continue, armed with yet another experience to give me hope and confidence that I will become something more than I currently am, that I will make my life an experience worth having.
13:51 Monday, 07 March 2005
Things have been startlingly eventful lately. Last week on Wednesday night I watched Hotel Rwanda and for some reason was inspired to think very deeply about the nature of the whole human race for hours afterwards. Like I used to do in high school, I sat in the dark and just thought long and hard, following trains of logic and reaching new conclusions based on old conclusions. When finally I was done, I realised my philosophy has changed enough in the past year to necessitate writing a new philosophical essay summing up where my thoughts have been lately. On Friday I spend the entire day and well into the night writing it. And then I spent the weekend in Prague.
It looks like I’ll be doing most of my travelling over the next two months with Justin and Khristian, as Dave, Jesse, and Rachel have all gone home, Rachel only temporarily. But only three of us Americans are staying the entire two month semester break, and we all want to do lots of travelling.
It could be worse. Justin has become much nicer to me since I started smoking him up on an almost daily basis. And Khristian is just a really nice guy naturally, so my travelling situation could be worse. I was going to go to Rome next week alone, but luckily Khristian also wants to go but some time later in the year. Which is a load off my mind, because I was very nervous about travelling to a country and city I’ve never been to before all alone.
At any rate, I won’t waste too much time describing all the little details of our adventure in Prague, as you are not interested anyway. It’s just a bunch of standard bullshit touristy stuff. We saw the castle, a cathedral, a bunch of cool landmarks, etc. The people were unbelievably nice, and the food was unbelievably fantastic and cheap. We spent Saturday night at the biggest Irish pub in the city drinking beer and absinth. I couldn’t stand the taste of the absinth so I only took one shot (over a long period of time) while the others took three. While we all felt a little weird, none of us could be classified as hallucinating. Apparently real absinth is no longer made, even in the Check Republic. We spent the evenings smoking hash, as I brought a decent-sized chunk along with me. The hostel we stayed at, the Boathouse, is the best hostel I’ve ever been to.
God, that was boring. Amazing how pointless all the details of travel can be. Why do I always find it so tedious to write down the details of events that happen in my life? I suppose if anything interesting ever happened to me I would enjoy writing about it, but for the most part I just can’t stand writing about actual events. I’m much more happy to describe dreams I had for some reason.
And speaking of dreams, I had an incredibly intense one on Saturday night, or more like Sunday morning. It was that recurring Domino’s dream where I’m back home and it’s my first day back at work. Only this was the most accurate recreation of work my dreams have ever created. I was taking pizzas from the oven and putting them in the boxes while talking to my boss about Germany. Then I started wondering if Jessi was still working there. As soon as the thought occurred to me I looked towards the back of the store and saw Jessi there talking to some other people. As soon as I saw her, I felt like I was hit by a thunderbolt. The way I felt in the dream, immediately going completely dizzy and light-headed, my body suddenly struck with desire and anxiety, that was so accurate it’s scary. No doubt my body actually produced all that emotion and my cells actually felt all of those long-forgotten peptides, because I felt exactly how I used to feel when I’d walk in the store and see Jessi, only this was much more intense. But anyway, Jessi didn’t come up and hug me or anything. She just said hi and we talked like old times, but I had an impossible time trying to hide my emotions. I felt that everyone in the store knew exactly how I was thinking and feeling. Then the dream took a bizarre turn and Jessi was searching me for weed with a weird beeping device. The cops were called and I was heading to the back to dispose of the joints in my pocket when a fat woman caught me and started to search me. I got so angry at the situation that I leapt on the fat woman and crushed her neck, killing her. At that point I realised I was asleep and no cops were going to catch me if I didn’t allow them to. I rushed out to the parking lot and began to fly away, but quickly realised the rare opportunity I now had. I lowered myself down and looked in the store, calling Jessi out to join me. It took very little mental power, as my mind had already placed Jessi in the store and she was fresh in the dream. She came outside and I somehow attached her underneath my body and we flew away. It was beautiful.
I can’t believe I spent three times as long describing my dream as describing what actually took place in Prague. But again it doesn’t matter because I don’t care and you don’t care. Besides I’ll probably be writing all the boring details today in e-mails to my family.
As far as my overall world outlook goes though, things are pretty good. I felt very positive and up-beat for most of the time in Prague, although whenever I felt like I was really seeing something special or having a particularly nice experience, I would think of Jessi and wish to God I could share things like that with her. That would always bring me down for awhile, but I suppose it was in a good way. Attaching some meaning to some nice but inherently meaningless experiences.
Also I’ve never seen so many beautiful women in one city. Check women are unbelievably gorgeous. I felt like I was falling in love hundreds of times a day. It was quite frustrating at times, knowing I’ll never be in a place with so many beautiful women again, but while I was there I couldn’t talk to them anyway. And even if I could, it wouldn’t matter. The only way I’d be able to have one of them is to pay for a prostitute, and I’m obviously not going to do that. Although I’ve never been more tempted than I was this weekend.
But that’s what’s been happening. A new philosophy essay has been written, and lots of travelling is going on. These will definitely be the most eventful two months of the year, perhaps of my entire life up to date. We’ll see how things turn out.
17:22 Wednesday, 16 March 2005
It feels like the first day of spring outside. Two days ago it was freezing, I was wearing a winter jacket and had to keep the windows closed. Today it’s warm, and I was able to walk outside in just a T-shirt. I love it. I love the spring. I love when the cold weather finally subsides and it feels like things are starting anew. That life is returning to the world and you can finally go outside again.
I took a walk in the park today for the first time in several months. There are still no eaves on the trees so it wasn't as aesthetically pleasing as it was in the summer or fall, but just walking along, slightly stoned, listening to Obscured by Clouds on my headphones and feeling the cool breeze as I walked along....it was just so damn nice.
Even this morning, when I was running
errands relating to the german bureacracy and term papers for classes, it felt
nice to be out and about. I even ran into Katarina at the university, and
chilled for a little while outside with her and her friend. But I didn't
actually accomplish anything, as both places I had to go were closed. I
should have been pissed off and frustrated, which would fit with my mood for the
previous few days, but the weather just had that magical effect of making
everything okay. As I was walking through the park, at one point it felt
like a dream. That I had never woke up and was just
imagining my day as I was living it, seeing myself in this place and that, talking to this person and that one, and moving along the paths of the park with music in my mind, none of it real, even the beautiful breeze, all just pleasant creations of my inner soul. Creating
experiences and living them out. Exactly what life is all about. And many of those experiences don't have to be annoying, frustrating, or depressing. I create hundreds of fun, enjoyable, beautiful experiences every day. When I look at the total of all those
experiences in my life right now, things don't seem bad at all. Life can actually be quite a wonderful thing.
The depression seeps in when you're locked inside in a room, just staring and thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Not experiences anything. Just thinking. Thinking about life and what it's supposed to mean and why it's not what we want it to be. But there's something about getting outside, breathing fresh air. Not thinking but rather experiencing thought. Instead of searching in vain for some conclusion that will never come, just letting the thoughts flow through your mind, in and out, acknowledging them and letting them go.
Just taking in the world around you without analasys, just simple appreciation.
When you're in that state of mind, nothing really bothers you. You understand your problems and your responsibilities but they don't matter as much. They are just another portion of life, other parts which make up the total of your experience. The future is not to be worried about. It just keeps on coming and you never know exactly where it'll take you. The past in not to be dwelled on. It's what brought you to where you are but you'll never experience it again. Life itself is not to be loathed. It is full of bad and good, pain
and pleasure, defeat and triumph, sorrow and joy. All of these have made up my experience so far, and all of these I will continue to experience until I leave this world. But while I’m here, the least I can do is appreciate it.
10:57 Monday, 21 March 2005
I went to Amsterdam again this past weekend with Justin and Khristian. We spent the whole time smoking and no time at all doing tourist things like last time, but it was enjoyable while it lasted. Khristian was there to visit his friends from his school in Wisconsin, three guys and a girl. The girl was named Janet and she was short, blonde, and beautiful. Extremely cute and beautiful, but not too much. And naturally, she was there with her boyfriend, as every single beautiful girl in that city was taken as well (if they weren’t prostitutes). Her boyfriend Ben was really cool though, so I couldn’t hold any animosity towards him, and the jealousy I felt was weak but not non-existent.
Justin and I caught the 9:00 train on Friday but Khristian just missed it so we arrived 2 hours earlier. We used this time to check into the Bulldog Hotel and smoke a joint which got us ridiculously stoned. As soon as it was time to get into our room, Khristian showed up and we became a party of three. Then once we left our room to go to another coffee shop and to eat, one of Khristian’s friends stopped him in the hall and brought us to their room where they’d already been staying for a couple of days. The four more people in there made us a party of seven.
My first reaction was that this was a huge mistake. Especially after seeing Janet, I thought it was going to be difficult to handle. A group of seven people, stoned out of our minds and trying to come together and decide what to do. We stumbled around the city for a long time in search of food and smoke, but for some reason it worked, and we eventually split up again and it was just me, Khristian, and Justin for most of the time.
I had a great time for the most part, though Khristian went way overboard with the smoking and absolutely obliterated my tolerance in just two days. When we left I wasn’t even getting stoned anymore, and now I have to wait a few days for weed to have any worthwhile effect again. No big deal, I could definitely use a break.
But there was a lot that did fuck with my head, particularly Janet. When I first saw her I got angry. She was in the room with the rest of them, bitching about things and holding up the group while she got ready. I thought, “The last thing I need is some stupid beautiful bitch to completely ruin the trip.” And I knew that she could. When there’s a beautiful girl around all I can think about is her and what she thinks of me. I’d be watching my every move, making sure I could appear favourable in her eyes. Even though I would not try to get with her or even befriend her because I’ll never see her again, this is just what goes on in my brain. As much as I try to say, “Don’t think about her, she doesn’t matter,” I won’t be able to get her out of my brain. I won’t be able to stop shooting glances at her to remind myself of her beauty. I won’t be able to ignore her for too long without trying to talk to her.
So anyway at first I thought she was a stupid bitch, but almost right off the bat, when we started walking around, she began to talk to me of her own volition. We would exchange words every now and then, and soon enough I began to have a favourable opinion of her personality. By the end of the night, when we were all just sitting around smoking together and talking, I found that she was really nice and just an all-around good person. Which didn’t help the emotional situation, but it didn’t hurt it too badly either because of all the weed in my brain. For the most part I was just happy to be talking to a beautiful girl again who actually spoke English as her native language.
But naturally she got me thinking about Jessi quite a bit. Here was a short beautiful girl who seemed shallow on the surface but was actually a really warm, nice, caring person. On Saturday night when we just chilled in the hotel lounge all night long (mildly shrooming and heavily smoking) she needed a lighter and I went upstairs to give her my spare. Like all those goddamn Coke Icees with Jessi, I just can’t resist going out of my way to do nice things for beautiful women. Their power over me is absolute. They shatter my free will and enslave me with desire.
But none of this was really bothering me at the time. Happy mushrooms and the best weed in the world will most certainly neutralise any depression and make everything seem wonderful. Even my unattainable desire felt wonderful as if felt wonderful to feel this desire so up-close and personal again. Only now is it starting to bother me.
Last night all of the frustration made itself known to me in a dream. It was the standard recurring situation of being back at work with Jessi. She was giving me the brush-off most of the time, and whenever I went out something would happen to make me really angry. I went to houses and school and while I can’t remember any of the particular things that set me off, I remember destroying lots of rooms and beating the shit out of lots of people. Back in the store at one point, I did manage to get Jessi to myself. We were about to smoke a joint together when she went home all of a sudden with another guy. Then I got angry and destroyed the store.
And I woke up with Jessi more fresh in my heart and mind than she has been for a long time. I could feel that painful desire almost as strongly as I used to feel it when she was in the same room with me. I remember how awful that was most of the time. Her being right there, talking to someone else, not interested in me, just being her naïve, cheerful self. And I wanted her. Holy shit how I wanted her, and still do. My cells this morning remembered the feeling and recreated it perfectly. Just an intense aching all throughout the body, especially the stomach. In the mind just a complete and absolute hopelessness, knowing what you want more than anything and at the same time being forced to accept that no matter what you say or do in this lifetime, you will never attain it.
I love and loathe that feeling. It is what drives me. It is what inspires me. It’s what makes me who I am. But sometimes it’s so painful that I’d rather be someone else.
12:07 Wednesday, 30 March 2005
I wrote a gargantuan, 10-page chapter in my book yesterday. And when I went back to read what I had written, I couldn't stand it. Usually after having freshly written something, I'm satisfied with what I'm doing and I move on. But all I could think when reading that chapter was "shitty writing, shitty shitty shit writing, I suck ass". But maybe it's a good sign that even though I know I'm writing crap, I keep doing it.
The problem could be any number of things, but I'm worried that it's lack of inspiration. Jessi was supposed to be the inspiration for this thing, but she's dead and gone to me. In fact, last night while listening to music and thinking about stuff, I thought about Jessi and was surprised to find practically no emotion there. Then I had an unsettling thought: what if I'm over her? What if I've already gotten over her and I don't love her anymore? It's possible. She was just a stupid little girl after all. It would make sense that after a half a year completely separate from her, all that emotion I directed towards her would have dried up.
So I have to ask myself another difficult question: what the fuck was all that emotion about? Right now she only exists as an idea in my head. I’ve assumed that it’s just this idea that I was in love with. But if I feel no emotion towards the idea anymore, is that really it? Because I’m almost positive that if I were to see her again, I would feel all of that emotion again. So does that mean I’m in love with the actual girl and not just the idea this time? But that can’t be true because I don’t really know who the actual girl is. I only know how she acts, and aside from her sweetness and kindness there really aren’t too many good qualities. Maybe my love has nothing to do with good or bad qualities though. It just happens, I fall in love with someone out of reach and that’s that, regardless of her personality.
I don’t know, but I really hope I haven’t gotten over Jessi. You’d think it would be a good thing to get over somebody you can’t have, but for me it’s different. I always need someone to direct my emotion towards, to serve as inspiration and a solid object against which I can determine my life’s meaning.
And she’s also the whole inspiration for this stupid book, and if I don’t have that love anymore, there’s really no point to writing the book, which is turning out to be just a big piece of crap anyway. Like this writing I’m doing right now. It’s certainly nothing good. You can tell by my choice of the word “good” instead of a better word. And by sentences like these. I suck at writing. Why the fuck do I keep doing it? My book is written as crappily as this, even with made up words like “crappily”.
Anyway, these are just my fears right now. That I’m over Jessi and I’m wasting my time writing a piece of shit book that has no potential to be any better than a piece of shit.
13:58 Thursday, 31 March 2005
Yesterday was one hell of a day. I got more socialisation than I’ve had in weeks. The two other Americans were back from their separate trips, and I spent the afternoon and evening hanging out and smoking weed with them. We played some video games and a card game, and I won everything. That never happens to me. It’s insignificant, I know, but I’m just not used to not losing. It was an indication that it was going to be a lucky day for me.
After eating out at the restaurant I wanted to go to (instead of the Thai restaurant we’ve been to a million times that they wanted to go to) we came back and watched Hero, a movie I chose. It was like I’d created the whole day for myself. But there were some surprises to come.
After the movie when I came back to my floor, I was just going to have a quick snack and go to sleep. I went to the kitchen to get some soda, and for the first time in several weeks, all of the Germans were back and partying loudly. They all started screaming at me when I entered, and as stoned as I was I just wasn’t prepared for it. All the yelling, some of it in German, some in broken English, from a bunch of Germans who were clearly drunk out of their minds. I couldn’t even form the words to answer, just hoping they’d let me pour my soda in peace and leave. But just before I left they asked me if I had something to smoke. If Nathalie had not been there, I would have lied and said I didn’t. But I decided to act against my impulses and smoke these krauts up. I returned in a minutes and rolled a joint. The last thing I needed was a joint, and I had a hard time rolling it, but it actually ended up to be one of the best joints I’ve ever rolled, in that usually mine are short and fat and don’t last very long, but this provided the five of them with enough to go around and satisfy all. They didn’t even finish the damned thing.
But I sat there and drank a beer in an effort to reach the buzz they all seemed to be on, but I was too tired. I just sat there quietly as they continued their belligerence, yelling things at each other and singing at the tops of their voices to whatever crappy song came on the radio, including the Backstreet Boys and other pop shit. It would have been incredibly annoying if it wasn’t so damned funny.
The best part was getting to look at Nathalie for a nice long period of time. We didn’t say much to each other as she was sitting across the table, but every now and then we’d look at each other with the same thought in our eyes: “what are these idiots doing?” She was drunk enough to sing along with the music too, but softly and sweetly as opposed to the girl next to her, who belted out everything like some deutsche diva.
When I informed them that the grass they were smoking came from Amsterdam, I got an interesting response. Markus, the loudest of the guys, made a face and told me that in Germany they hated the Netherlands, that they were enemies, but their grass was the best. It’s becoming more and more apparent that history is still very much alive here in Europe, and while on the outside they pretend to all be best friends, united with each other, their people really still hate each other. Every country that surrounds Germany hates it, and Germany hates every country around it. The Nazi mentality is still with them. They think they’re better than everyone. If another Hitler were to come along, I don’t doubt that most of the country would get behind him again and march for the glory of the Fatherland.
So after a beer I couldn’t take it anymore and I left. I was about to go to sleep when a knock came on my door. Fuck, I thought. They want me to come roll another joint. But I was only half right, as the person at my door was Andrei, the Romanian kid who gets the weed for me, and he wanted me to roll a joint. I told him I just wanted to go to sleep, but he said that he did too and we could just smoke smoothing small to help us get to sleep. I couldn’t protest.
So there I was rolling yet another joint, and Andrei was sitting at my computer playing whatever random music he could find. Then he started a conversation the way he usually does by talking about girls. “Why do men always want to give it, but girls never want to take it?” he said. And I told him I didn’t know, although had I been more clear-minded I might have been able to give him my opinion on that matter. I didn’t feel like discussing sex with Andrei, as it seems to be all he thinks about and I don’t really feel like explaining to him that I’m a virgin and I’m not looking for sex.
But to my surprise, the conversation shifted. He began talking about how humans are animals and we shouldn’t think of ourselves otherwise. That way back in the day, men just planted their seed everywhere and women didn’t care. But now things are more complicated and nothing is that simple anymore. We have to struggle and work to get women. And not only that, but we need to struggle through a lot more in general. Life has become very complicated. Andrei went on to talk about how his hometown in Romania used to have only 800 people, and now there are over 5,000, with roads and strores everywhere, and never a quiet moment. There used to be vast green field but now everything is becoming more modern, consumer-oriented, and complex.
Although I agreed with everything he said, I played devil’s advocate as is my natural inclination in these cases and we had a very interesting conversation about these matters. I couldn’t believe the guy was so insightful. I’d always just taken him for a horny young party guy. But he talked about how frustrating life was now, that life is no longer peaceful, and everywhere you go people are just trying to get fucked up with their alcohol and their drugs and their big parties. I told him I agreed, but I don’t think we can ever go back to how things were. He said he agreed with that but he thinks things were better in the past. I only said that they might have been in some ways, but our only choice now is to make progress in making a better future, rather than just going back to the past. He believes we should return to more to how we were as animals.
One of the most interested points he made is how animals are better than humans at just about everything. Fish can swim better, dogs can smell and run better, etc. The only thing humans can do best is thinking, and look where it’s got us. And the animals have been around for millions of years, while our time is short and fleeting.
So after that semi-philosophical talk, I started asking him about Romania, and I got him to tell me the whole story of how his family came to Germany, which was ridiculously interesting. His family lived in Romania until he was 8 years old. It was under communist control and they had no freedom. His father had been waiting for years to leave the country, and one day a man he knew apparently circumvented some rules and gave him a passport for him and his family to go to Germany. He went home and told the family that they were leaving, and the next day they were in the car driving away, leaving their house and all of their belongings behind forever. They came to Germany and lived like beggars for the first few years, with the kids in school and the father trying to get a job. Eventually they settled in and as Andrei puts it, “became German.”
But the most interesting thing he told me was that after 19 years living in the country, he still doesn’t feel like a German. Only three of his friends are German and he doesn’t even see them that much. He mostly hangs out with other foreigners, like his Turkish friends from whom he gets the weed. I asked him about this, because I’ve also found it difficult to make friends with Germans. He said that they are cold, they really only connect with their own kind, and they stick together like an exclusive club. Sure, he hangs out with the other Germans and talks to them regularly, but he wouldn’t consider any of them to be friends. After nineteen years, the vast majority of his life spend in Germany and growing up with these people, he’s still just seen as a Romanian, even though he feels like a German.
He still has family in Romania, as his is the only family that left, and he goes to visit them sometimes. Things have apparently improved greatly over there since his family left, as there are a lot more freedoms now. An interesting detail he told me was that when he first came to Germany and saw rabbits running through the fields, he was so excited because there were no rabbits in Romania, as they were all hunted for food. To provide for their family under communist rule they would go to a place and hand them a ticket, and the government decided what food to give them. So they would hunt whenever they could, and as a result you would never see rabbits running around. He was also amazed by the markets here, as every fruit stand had bananas and oranges, an extreme rarity in Romania. Now his country is full of bananas and oranges, though apparently people still hunt rabbits.
So that was a highly enriching experience for me. Who would have thought that having a serious conversation with a foreign person could provide so much insight into life and the world we live in? I should do that more often, as I usually only speak about the trivial differences between America and Europe. But after hearing about the story of Andrei’s family and how they emigrated to Germany with nothing but the clothes on their backs, I feel I have a new appreciation for that kind of situation. It’s a lot more real than just reading about things in a history book.
So that was yesterday. Today I woke up a little early to take care of some more German beaurocratic business, finally finishing up my business with the Ordungsamt. On the way back, after getting off the U-Bahn at my dorm, I ran into Nathalie and talked to her all the way back, which was also extremely nice. And now I’m going to enjoy the beautiful weather by going out for a walk in the park. Life is interesting, that’s for sure. There’s so much beauty everywhere in the world, even in ugliness. And even if it’s not always enjoyable, life is certainly always interesting when you think about it.