Hezo Kittie

Q: Hi douchetool, how was your junior year?

Short answer: What a long, strange year it's been.
Long answer: I'd have to say that the past nine months, although at times brutal, have definitely been memorable. I could go on and on with a laundry list of events and sightings from the last year but that'd be pretty pointless, because everyone knows what's happened this year; I don't have to regurgitate it to you.

One question I always notice when I look at myspace quizzes (probably the most mind-numbing task in the history of the world, but when you want to be numb, myspace is vicodin) is that they usually ask how many things the person regrets. Common answers are 0, 1, and 230942382349020wpoiefsadlkfj3942. My good buddy Micah goes by the common motto, "No regrets", which is usually referred to in his away message at times. But I never really thought about what I personally would regret or not.

The easy answer is "I have no regrets, either", but I'm not too sure about the validity of that statement. I usually believed my answer to be "3", for the number of accidents I've gotten into (which happen to all be my fault). I did dwell for a while the idiocy of taking my parents' car and then wrecking it, but it becomes more understandable when I look at it at the perspective of the time. I was late and I wanted to drive my sister's car; it was my decision and I took the consequences that went along with it.

Dickinson once wrote that, for every decision that we choose to make, there are a million we unchoose. I have reasons for every decision I make; no matter the consequence of any action I have, those I have done are a part of a specific place and time in my life.

When I sat down at my third period final and realized how unprepared I was, I thought to myself how stupid I was for slacking off at Gavin's house and not studying on my own at home. Considering how borderline my grade was, if I blew this one I would've really felt like a total asshat. But when I thought about it again, I can sincerely say that sitting in Gavin's house with Kim and Aaron doing absolutely no work and just talking was the best thing that happened all week. When I left the test feeling unsure about most of the questions, I knew that I wouldn't trade that time together for a grade that doesn't mean anything to me, when compared to the people that do.

And somehow the stars aligned and the scales tipped in my favor; I made the grade. Maybe life's just a little bit of heart and a lot of luck. Story of my life~

There was something about Friday that left me unsatisfied. Maybe the liquor just went to my head, because the SRF (equal parts Jager, Goldschlager, and 151) definitely killed me. I don't think I truly know what I want, but I try to look back and remember a time when drinking has ever made anything particularly fun, and I don't think I could've pinpointed any specific time. That last night in Texas when I had too much to drink, I just felt alone and wanted to go home and be around the people who actually wanted me to be around. More recently, I can't even recall exactly but being angry at the sight of Christen for no reason, and laying down and listening to David and Christen rag on me, probably for good reason. I guess it is crazy and something to do, but it doesn't beat sitting around Gavin's table just being honest, beautiful chaps. Those are the times to truly look back and think, "Wow, I gotta do that again sometime," which sounds more like something to say after getting piss drunk and being outrageous.

But while drinking can be done at any time, the moments that cannot be replicated are truly spontaneous and never premediated. We never meant for it to happen but something about that day just felt right. Like maybe there actually is something more than just drugs, videogames, and girls if we look hard enough. Somewhere in the deepest corners of the universe might be the key to ultimate satisfaction.

But in reality, my life simply consists of a hodgepodge of unforgettable moments, wherever they may have taken place. That pretty brilliant poet Dickinson once wrote that her form of worship was personal and informal; that Heaven was not a final, end-all goal but the journey of life itself. That maybe my life isn't defined by that dream college I won't get into or the next time I'm going to get smashed, but by the little things that trigger that one inexplicable feeling.

Like the night before I was going to give my Transcendentalism speech, I did a few practices in front of my mirror, then suddenly had this urge to run around the house and then jump up and down in my room. The fact that in a few hours I was going to be at the podium telling the world (or twenty-someodd people) everything that I've discovered about myself the last few months gave me this singular, instinctive rush, even though I was just in my house at 1am.

So on Friday night I didn't feel particularly fulfilled, but more lost. It was like the more people there are, the less people there are to talk to. I wasn't really sure what was going on the whole night as I wandered around in a sober daze. Watching people hook up everywhere I turned gave me the impression, "Am I supposed to be hooking up or something?" I guess I felt more out of place than ready to join the shaggin' bandwagon.

People might just say I'm a crazy weird kid and that if I had a girl that night I wouldn't have felt so awkward, but I don't think that's the case. I can see how people love that feeling of being with that somebody, like last night when I was just chilling on the couch and I heard Corinna start to play one of my all-time favorite piano pieces, and I say to Christen, who's cuddling with Will, "Hey! It's that song I used to always play for you!" To which she initially responded with something nonsensical and generic like, "Did he really say that?", because she was so blissful to be in the arms of her man. It's like that episode of Family Guy when Lois, staring at Peter's surgically enhanced buttocks, responds to Brian's question with, "But...I...um...the garage." To which Brian replies, "That's not even a sentence." Hilarious in a cartoon, and in this case, kinda cute in a fleeting high school way.

Like how you could tell that Jordan was just where he wanted to be by the way he looked at his girlfriend admiringly. Everyone has their own agenda, but I think mine's blank and I got my pen in hand and eyebrows furrowed. Who knows? Maybe once I meet someone who is truly special, I wouldn't be writing any of this. But from what I know, love isn't an NFL scouting combine. You don't just compare a few prospects and then decide if you want one, but discover something amazing and spontaneous. Sometimes I feel like I'm "supposed" to be on the prowl for possibilities, but if I took that approach I'd end up with someone for all the wrong reasons. I don't just want some girl who pretends to like me and half the time gets on my nerves, like Billy Pilgrim, who, since he saw the future, saw his marriage with his wife as merely "bearable", and continued on with it anyway.

When it happens, hopefully I'll know. There's no checklist of requirements involved; I just hope to God I don't let her get away.

I can honestly say that if I die tomorrow, the only item on my list of "things I wish I could've done, BUT NOW I'M DEAD" would be love. There's such a range of emotion and strange beauty that I've yet to truly experience, and it's been expressed in so many ways through time, it seems almost daunting at how powerful it can be. But right now when I see it, most of the time I just see relationships to be constricting. Like the necessity of having that person right there with you, constantly displaying their affection for you, it's almost as if "love" is really just "control". I don't want to be confined by a sore need to have someone holding my hand; I've always saw passionate love to be something without words, beyond chocolates and roses and the repetitive signs that you love him or her. If you have true feelings for someone, you shouldn't have to be reassured of theirs.

But I guess I'm just saying that if I was a girl I'd personally be oddly confused by chocolates and the like. But that's probably why I don't have someone to give anything to. Alas, no matter -

I guess it's late, or early. Sleep's for suckers, anyway. I'm better off without sleep; everything is too beautiful to put to waste and forget forever. For now, anything could happen at any time; I'll just keep my senses open and somehow everything might just fall into place.

Maybe I can wait in bed till she comes home and whispers,
"you're in my web now,
I've come to wrap you up tight
till it's time to bite down."
I wake alone
In a woman's room I hardly know
and pretend that I am finally home