I copied all my 2011 journal entries into a word file. It was 55 pages long. I will copy 2012 and 2013 during Spring Break, which starts next week.
I really encourage you to document your life in some way. There are so many beautiful details we forget. I sat here laughing because I remembered that sometime in December 2011, while showering, the glass shower door fell on me. I put it back wrong and it fell on my cousin too.
You learn too. I realized throughout freshman year, I was very unfocused and happy-go-lucky. You need to record things so you know where you've been.
Today, at the library, I was swarmed by scavenger hunters. All ladies. Some sorority thing? They had to take a photo with a sexually suggestive book. I am now in three selfies of ladies holding sexually suggestive books. Okay.
The security guards were having fun. One was seeing how blind his friend was. He was walking far back into the reference section, holding up fingers.
He said, "Damn, you're blind. If there's ever an altercation, you go stand in the corner!"
The guards always seem to have fun. Last week, they were arguing about superheroes. I like them a lot, but of course they don't know that because I never say anything to them.
I like most people that way. It gets painful because it's clear they don't like me that way; why would they like a stranger? Why would I like a stranger? Or maybe they do, I don't know. Do you? I just find people cute.
Yesterday, my newest roommate sent a facebook message. He said we should throw out expired food, for example "don't leave a tiny piece of cheese in a box for months." He cleaned out the fridge, he said. Threw out all the spoiled food.
I checked. He did. He threw out the potatoes I was going to stir-fry. Well, they were growing eyes, but I mean, really?
The whole thing struck me as passive aggressive, so I sat down in the living room with my laptop and waited for him to come out.
And then I told him thank you, that must've taken a long time, you really didn't have to, next time when something bothers you, just knock, please, and I'll clean up my mess.
All very pleasant, but with a very irritated expression on my face, probably, because I can't lie.
His girlfriend was standing behind him, looking guarded, like if that a*****e says anything mean, sweetie, I have your back. I always hear them talking in the shower.
Why am I writing this?
Reading my journal entries, I've realized a lot of my life was governed by Christian values. Sex was taboo, so I exploited it constantly, to be rebellious. I was also very conscious of the idea of "manliness." I felt very insecure, because I was not and am not a very masculine guy, in interests, in appearance, in behavior. At some point, I wanted to be a woman. I don't as much anymore because I've gotten more comfortable with just being myself.
It's really funny being a kid. You're learning all the things everyone around you takes for granted. You little alien, you.
And a lot of the things I wrote were very cringe.
What makes writing cringey? Honesty, I guess. Isn't it funny there's some kind of honesty that makes us uncomfortable?
It's a weird concept.
I dreamed I got lost on my own campus--there was a circus tent, and a cold, clean, empty department store that sold watches and massive puddles of yellow sandy mud in a green hillside.
You know when you want to say "********" but really stretched out? Like "Ffffffffuuuuuuuuuccccccckk"? You know that feeling?
Spring break can't come fast enough.