Anger

Someone has said to me before that anger is just fear. This person is evil because this person shat on my dream in the most casual of conversations. I was really just trying to say that if I really wanted to be a teacher, graduate school is just the next step. He was talking me out of it until I expressed anger, when he finally said, "Fine. Go to grad school." This was not a high-ass question of, "Do you have to be smart to be an astronaut?" which assumes that my time thus spent was not towards becoming an astronaut, rather understanding that astronauts probably have way different agendas dealing with larger, more demanding questions of the universe and I am just a mere suburbian, now living in the city with slightly wider eyes. Real friends would understand that second question and laugh. Real friends would understand that first question and just nod with encouragement even if they didn't believe in it - real friends are down for surprises.

This fucking guy. If he is who I hope he is, he is reading this right now because he took the time to research my google account - I'm sure you could find people's blogs through that. I could also be grandiose at the moment. Either way, as we split, I stressed that I would be seeing him around town and campus because that is just inevitable. Even if we don't see each other at school, we'll probably see each other at future symposiums that I, at this point, after being shat on, am determined to be a part of, that are held all over the country once a year and I can only expect to see him there. I stressed this because it's not nice to cut someone out of your life completely. I never said, "I never want to see or talk to you again." I stressed, "I don't want you to know where I live and I don't want to talk to you right now." I'm 100% ok with passing eye contact. Passing conversation, hell no.

I guess I'm posting because I forgot about this blog, because I've been made angry because of one of his blog post that reduced our relationship down to stoop smoking. There was nothing else. I must be fair and say that I am in no mood to be talking openly about this yet - that every time I try to I choke up and become increasingly confused and all the more angry.

I know of someone who is dying and said, "I can't live like I'm dying." She has brain tumors and stage whatever-gonna-die cancer. I know of someone living who says, "I live like I'm dying." It keeps me calmer, more centered, modest yet adventurous, open with people I trust, and realistic with the expectations of those friends who I trust. Because trust doesn't mean 100% everything. It just means faith... and I lost faith in this fucking guy... this fucking manipulative fuck. Unmodest, spoiled rotten, and in denial of his identity crisis.


It's so funny all the gay boys in high school wore Hollister and Abercrombie and Fitch sweat pants - even simple t-shirts because they were desperate searching for identity. I was one of those gay boys but luckily my mother was smart enough not to listen to her 16 year old who wanted a stupid specific shirt. Now look at him. Romping around in his "girlfriend's" pajamas and slippers, offering her his old sweats that say in large and purposefully distressed letters a brand name that makes her cringe. If my new life goal is to fuck a gay boy I think I've reached it and now I need to make even more grandiose goals.

Spice it up