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December 10, 2006

I need to study for Psychology. Now would be a prime time to do it, and maybe one of the last I will get. The Men’s Chorale Global Warning concert is tomorrow, and we’re going to perform all the songs we’ve spent the last month learning: A la Media Noche, Acalentando Jesus, O Magnum Mysterium, Betelehemu, and Cantemos. Hard to believe that’s all we learned in the last month–the Octet and Overtones did their Super Sproul performances last week, which means they did every song they learned the whole semester. It took over two hours, at least for the Overtones–I wasn’t able to stay for all of the Octet because I had some math homework I forgot to finish. That became more and more of a habit the last few weeks of classes, so I’m glad they’re over for good now. The last week really didn’t even feel like a last week of classes. Except for applauses at the end of the final lectures, it just seemed like the same old routine. Wow, I really do get off topic a lot.

Let’s try again. Concert tomorrow plus review session for physics to get to if I have time, then another three hour review session for physics on Monday plus Yunkle Culin’s coming down here that day and wanted to have dinner with me or something. The Bear-a-Tones practice I was supposed to go to on the Monday after Thanksgiving was rescheduled for Monday, so I have to get up to be there at 7:15 in the morning if I want to see that. Unheard of for a college student. I’ll probably wind up having to just skip it, because there are still a couple of chapters in the book I haven’t read, and I’ve barely started the practice exams. What the hell have I been doing then? It seems like we really don’t have that much work–all mostly just reading. I got my RPP experiments out of the way a long time ago, and the ZAPS take no time at all, which leads me to believe I’ve been seriously neglecting all work whatsoever for this class. Not that it makes a huge difference, I suppose. In the end, studying will probably mean the difference between an A and an A-, maybe a B+ if I happen to be extraordinarily unlucky. I keep saying how I don’t want to break the streak, but of course it’s highly doubtful I’ll be able to keep that up all the way through anyway. And like Damon said, am I really going to care that much later on if I didn’t get straight A’s in college? There are a lot of better ways to spend my time than that. Of course, I also haven’t been doing any outside reading. This whole semester, all I’ve really read is Franny and Zooey, plus a few odd pages of Hackers and Painters during a train ride and some of Wielding a Red Sword while waiting for Leipzig to get his library card in San Jose. To the best of my recollection, anyway. I really wish I could read faster. There are so many things I want to read, but at the same time, it’s starting to get like, what’s the point? Like, I could read nonstop for a year straight and still not be half as well-read as, say, David. There are just too many books out there.

I don’t know. It seems like it’s getting that way for a lot of stuff these days. Pointless, I mean. It’s apparently a college thing, because you can read plenty of Xanga posts from my high school friends with that sort of theme. Even Andy, who seems so incredibly resilient, unaffected by much of anything, told me upon coming here that he felt sort of purposeless. At the time I didn’t really understand. I still don’t understand actually, because it still doesn’t make sense. We certainly don’t have less purpose than we did in high school. And yet this feeling pervades. Where does it come from? Why does everyone go so “emo” in college? I really miss when Wilson used to actually have entertaining posts. Fred’s getting like that too. And Marc. I bet I could list a whole bunch of ’em if I really thought about it. But why? Are we all just that homesick, and miss our old friends and our old lives so much? I guess that must be it. It’s like, we come here, and leave all 18 years of our lives behind us, and it starts to seem like, what was the point of those 18 years? We really won’t see most of those people ever again. Even the best of us. It’s just too hard to keep in contact with everyone. And then we see what happened to the first period of our lives, and we wonder if this new period won’t turn out just the same way. That’s how mid-life crises are born, aren’t they? When you look back and everything you did just seems pointless, so you try to start things off in a new direction, except the new things have no more point to them than the old ones ever did, so you’re still just kidding yourself. It’s kind of a wonder to me how old people always seem so well-adjusted in light of all this. Do they really look back on their lives and have it truly mean something to them, something enough to satisfy them to the grave? Or are they just finally able to accept the pointlessness and realize that there was really nothing they could do about it, and the only thing left to do is enjoy life while you can.

Enjoy it. But that’s all a matter of perception, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter what you do; there are those who will never be satified no matter how much they accomplish, and those who are satisfied with no achievement whatsoever. Objectively, we college students are really not doing anything wrong, correct? We’re just living our lives like everyone else does. All we need to do is change our perception. It is pointless, perhaps, but why should we care? Caring is just as pointless as what we do, so we might as well just forget about it. Why is that so hard to do? Why is it so hard to just realize that this is how it is and get on with it?

I really don’t know where I’m going with this. I feel very strange tonight and felt I had to get something down on the screen, even though I really didn’t want to. I never feel much like writing these days. What is there left to say? Does it really affect anyone when I pour my heart and soul into this junk? Nothing I could write really means anything to me anymore. Or else it just doesn’t make sense. Things just don’t make sense the way they used to, and I’m trying to remember how things ever made sense before.

I have hickeys all over my neck and chest from making out with Christie for quite a while last night. Bright red ones. She tried to put some concealer on the neck ones, but it didn’t help much. I can’t wear T-shirts now without them showing. And I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but T-shirts are all I freaking wear. I don’t even know what to do. I tried putting on that yellow and blue striped Cal shirt that Yunkle Culin gave me for my birthday last year because it has a collar that covers them up, except those are the shirts that Rally Com (the ones in charge of rallying support during the games, I believe–I’ve never really paid much attention to what it is exactly they do) wears, and every time I walk out the door someone is like, “What’s with the Rally Com shirt,” and I keep having to tell them “It’s just a shirt, for goodness’ sake!” Eventually I had to sack it and use my orange coat, which also hides the marks if you zip it all the way up, but only barely, and I’m always afraid I might be craning my neck too much. Maybe it doesn’t even matter. Who the heck will really care if they see the marks. But also, if the marks are visible, they’d be quite distracting to anyone trying to talk to me or anything. That’s how huge and distinct they are. And just the way I have to hide my neck from everyone–just that alone is starting to take its toll on me. How I was all defensive to Russell about the striped shirt. It’s all just making me feel sort of alone.

I feel like calling someone. I called Bob, but she didn’t answer. And she’s the one always telling me to call her more–go figure. I don’t know what I would say to her though. I don’t know what I would say to anyone really. I mean, I don’t even know what to say to this blog, and I don’t even have to worry here if my audience understands what the heck I’m talking about. I haven’t talked to Angelica in so long. She recently posted a blog about how Cyg is always out late with his friends–till 2:00 in the morning, and I’m kind of worried about her. Since I last saw her, she’s gotten pregnant and had a miscarriage. And I’m still wondering, even after that big speech I made at her wedding about how we could be apart for fifty years and we’d still be joking around in the exact same way we always did when we were reunited–even after that, I’m wondering if it’s going to be the same when I see her again. Especially since I’ll be seeing her in Japan. I’ve never even been in the Eastern hemisphere. Will I know what to say to her? We’ll be joking around like we always did, I know. I have no doubts about that, which is nice. But she’s supposed to be the most important influence on my life ever, my closest friend by a long shot. Will I be able to confide in her with these sorts of things? Would she know how to respond if I did?

I still don’t know what to get Christie for Christmas. I have to work shopping in somewhere in the next couple of days too, but I don’t know how. I’m thinking, like, origami book or something right now, but that’s too easy. I could get the exact same thing for Andrea and it would mean the same thing to her. I guess the number one reason I feel like I do right now is that I still just don’t know what I’m doing. I’m in pretty deep in this relationship now. She really likes me. Seriously does. And I just have no clue how I’m supposed to act. It all feels so unnatural somehow. Not like I’m gay or anything like that, but… I just can’t describe it. I don’t even know if I love her or what. I still have no idea what love is, and even Damon, another extremely well-adjusted person, acknowledged that it might just be something as cynical as being able to stand listening to someone talk about themselves. That’s how relationships are built. You tell her something, and she tells about her in return, and you both give more and more of yourselves to each other–it’s all based on the trust that anything you say will be taken seriously by her and listened to with the full degree of attention you want it to be listened to with. We’re all just that desperate to be heard and hopefully understood. But Christie doesn’t tell me everything. It’s hard enough that I just don’t understand people in general, and then she has to go and be so secretive sometimes. I still don’t know what happened to her that Thursday night when she was in a daze. I wonder if she intends to ever tell me. Why does she have to keep these things from me? I trust her completely, but I just wish I knew what was going on with her… I just hope I really am making her as happy as she makes it seem when I’m around her. I worry sometimes that it’s just a cover–that she really does like me because of how nice I am and for that reason doesn’t want me to know that I’m just not fulfilling whatever it is that she needs. She’s the type who would do something like that.

Aren’t relationships supposed to help make all your troubles seem less severe? Why does Christie still drink compulsively? Even after she knows my opinion on drinking? I just hate that I feel there’s nothing I can do about this. I hate that she hangs all over me so much more when she’s drunk, and I just eat it all up. It makes me feel like such a fucking hypocrite. I wonder if I shouldn’t have made out with her so much when she was so drunk. She was still coherent and everything of course, but I wonder if it would make any difference if I just didn’t succumb to her like that when she’s drunk. Probably not. She’d just get all sad again like she was when she got drunk that one night, and I just wouldn’t be able to bear that. I wish she could say to me when she’s sober the things she says to me when she’s drunk. Why is it that even after all we’ve done it’s still so awkward sometimes… I can’t tell what she’s thinking… I don’t know what she wants… I’m just kind of lost.

I can’t even imagine what this winter break is going to be like. Four whole weeks. Undoubtedly it will be the strangest vacation of my entire life. I wonder how I’ll handle not seeing Christie for all that time. I wonder if it’ll be hard on me. I wonder if it will actually make things easier–simpler. I kind of shudder at the prospect of either of those situations. I think I should go and see her again tonight. Screw studying. It makes no difference anyway.

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