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Showing posts from December, 2008

Over the edge.

I met my old Spanish teacher yesterday morning for breakfast with a couple of friends. I was late. It was very strange. Sometimes I forget that I'm not a child anymore. I'm a legal adult. I'm not restricted to only being a student. I can be a friend, too.

We all traded stories and caught up over bagels and coffee. It was nice. It had been years since I had seen Profa. Four years? Five years? Too long, I think. We made plans to all meet up again in a couple of weeks. That should be fun. I was glad to hear that she was doing fine at her new school, settled back in with her family. She deserves to be happy.

We all said our farewells and went our separate ways after a couple of hours. It's nice to know you have friends out there. It's a big world.

And the year is almost over. It's been a long year. The world has changed. Everyone has changed. I've changed. Except, I do not think that people change. Faults do not magically disappear and good …

The prince of darkness.

My dad came home for Christmas. It was the only present worth getting.

He went out of his way to arrange transportation for his group--renting vans to take them and their bags to the airport--when the other leaders did not. He stayed up late trying to make sure everyone was accounted for before making his own travel arrangements. He tried to use his frequent flier miles to get tickets for other people. And when everything was done, his group was leaving for the airport while the other groups struggled to find taxis.

"They have a nickname for me," he told me. "They call me 'The Prince of Darkness.'" He manages to get into all of the important meetings and pulls strings so that his group always ends up on top with the best arrangements, equipment, and assignments. Nobody seems to know how he does it, just that he does.

He's home now, but he's leaving again soon.

I sometimes wonder if he ever thinks about himself. I wonder if he ever finds the time…

In short supply.

Christmas does not give me many things to complain about. This is a good thing, I think. It's the one time during the year that people make an effort to pretend to be genuinely interested in being nice. That's okay.

It gives you a good chance to look back at the year at all of the mistakes you made. Or the good things you did, if you can remember them. It's nice to just sit down by the fire and relax.

And to wait for Santa.

Doodling and divulging.

When I was in middle school, I drew cartoons in class. Instead of having a notebook full of history notes, I had a notebook full of cartoons about history. I would make little doodles of historical figures and their stories. It helped me remember things better, for some reason.

They were not very good cartoons, admittedly.

My history teacher was good, though.

Mr. Ryals taught us a lot more than history. He told us stories about his life. His friends. His experiences. He gave us life lessons to take away from his class. "Balance." He said. "You need to find the balance." They were words I took to heart. Before the end of the year was up, he called me to his desk. "Hey," he said. "You should draw cartoons." "I do," I said. "No," he said. "Draw them for the newspaper. I'm serious. You could be a cartoonist for the newspaper." I laughed and said no. "Do it." He told me. "I want to …

A pointless victory in a fake war.

I do not trust people. It is not a learned habit but something instinctive, I think. People are inherently evil and malicious unless they make a conscious effort otherwise. People believe that trust is something that they are entitled to. Something they deserve. It is not. Trust is something earned. A reward.

Most people do not deserve to receive such a gift, as they would end up abusing it. If there is one thing that people are very good at, it is disappointing you. Everybody has ulterior motives for everything they do. Everybody. No exceptions.

Distrusting everyone you meet is a terrible way to go through life, though. It strains your relationships to breaking points and makes you a callous person. Unapproachable. Bitter. That's okay, I guess. If nobody gets close, nobody gets the advantage.

I parked the truck far back in the parking lot. I wanted to walk through the cold. I drew my coat around me and walked toward the store. I noticed them at about the halfway p…

The self-righteous whining.

December always arrives so quickly. You sit down in August and hold your breath for Halloween, but the next time you look up: suddenly, Christmas. It's always like that though. It's not something I really look forward to, either. It can hardly be called Christmas.

It's pathetic. And diluted. It's a weak imitation of what it used to be. Of what it's supposed to be. It's like Valentine's Day, hollow and commercialized. And the people that run with it are the worst part of the whole thing.

"Happy Holidays!" They say. I understand it's an effort to bend over backwards to accommodate the various religious celebrations of the season, but is it worth it? If someone is going to get upset--during the 'holiday season' no less--because you assumed they followed whichever arbitrary religion, then they probably aren't worth fraternizing with, I think. Is it really a good use of your time to stomp around in circles crying because some…

How organized that thought is.

I have always loved to write, I think. I would write research papers when I was younger just to have something to write about. It was always a lot of fun to me. I loved watching the words form and scroll across the screen as I typed them. I was watching myself create things. It was pretty okay.

I had wanted to be a writer when I was young. I was much more idealistic and full of optimism then. What a wonderful dream that would have been to hold on to.

I wrote stories long before I ever imagined making movies. I imagined things the same way back then, but instead of planning for cameras I planned for words. I wrote about all kinds of things. I wrote alone and I wrote jointly with friends. Most important to me, however, was that I wrote. I used to write a story every day at school. I would throw them away at the end of class. I wish I had kept them. That's okay.

I was never satisfied with my characters, though. They had names and descriptions, but they were still just id…

Care to lend a prayer.

I do not remember very many of my dreams. It makes me wonder how often I actually dream. I've heard we dream every night. It sounds wonderful. I tend to only remember my bad dreams. It's just bad luck, I suppose.

Last night I dreamed I was working in the hospital. I was not in the ER though; I'm not sure where I was. But I was drawing pictures for patients. The patients were mostly children. I drew pictures of whatever they asked onto a dry-erase board that would stay in their room. It made the children happy.

I walked into a room where a boy was laying down, connected to all of the monitors. His whole family was there, crowded around his bed. "What would you like me draw for you?" I asked him. "A cat." He said. I started drawing the image but my hand would not respond. Instead, it slowly scrawled out the words "because the boy's sin." I panicked and tried to erase it before anybody noticed but my hands kept drawing things.…

How it pulls my heartstrings.

I was walking down the sidewalk on my way to class, and passed by the library. In front of the building--in the middle of my path--stood a couple. Typical, I thought. It's like being in high school all over again. Couples tend to believe that the world revolves around their ever-ending relationship. They believe that they have the right to do what they want where they want. It stems from each partner believing that they--individually--are entitled to do as they please. So, with little regard for their environment or those around them, couples tend to stand in the middle of everything and mess everything up. It's almost as if they seek out the most high traffic areas to block. It lets everyone else know how madly in love they are, I guess.

As I got closer, I realized I had assumed wrong.

"Please, I just want you to know I care." He said dully. He moved forward to wrap his arms around her. She pushed him away and stepped back. "Get off me!" She hi…