Today, I scheduled for classes, they look like this:

 SOCI 3304   HISTORY OF SOCIOLOGICAL THOUGHT   (WI)
288236    1 --T-H-- 1100A-1215P ELA  00229   Trepagnier B    08/24-12/13   25              

SOCI 3307   STATISTICS OF BEHAVIORAL SCIENCE
288239    2 --T-H-- 1230P-145P  ELA  00218   Wivagg J        08/24-12/13   80              

SOCI 3325   SOCIAL DEVIANCE
288254    2 --T-H--  800A-915A  ELA  00114   McCord C        08/24-12/13   123

PHIL 1305   PHILOSOPHY & CRITICAL THNKNG   (WI)
287632   14 --T-H--  200P-315P  PSY  00104   Joy G
08/24-12/13   50        

 MATH 1319   MATH OF BUSINESS & ECONOMICS(Prerequisites)     
286269  151 --T-H--  330P-445P  DERR 00333   Staff A         08/24-12/13 35

 SOCI 3324   LIFE STYLES
 288251    1 --T-H--  930A-1045A ELA  00229   Smith C         08/24-12/13   41

Monday and Wednesday and Friday, no class. Tuesday and Thursday, class from 8am to 5pm. It’s not going to be fun on those Tuesday’s and Thursday’s but it should at least be interesting.

Yesterday and Today have been sort of nice. I hope she doesn’t think I’m bored but it’s nice sometimes, just laying around enjoying that feeling that creeps up into your stomach when you’re at peace with the world.

I’ve found myself wondering, off and on, what it is I am doing here. To be honest, I just don’t know. It has nice be random and it’s really nice being here; but what am I looking for?

It’s been a long time since I wrote anything other than a journal entry. Let’s do something fun.

“He stared at the wall as it began to move; shapes and movements replacing lines and stains all the way from floor to ceiling.”

This sentence popped out of my mind. I think it’s been inspired by the short story, “The Yellow Paper,” and a variety of other things. So, taking that sentence, let’s see what comes out of my fingers.

For as long as Cole could remember, his attraction to the color yellow had been strong. He didn’t know if it was because his mother loved the sun or if he used to play in fields of wild dandelions as a child but he did know that the color was magical and it was in this fact, that Cole found he couldn’t share his love.

One day, after growing up, marrying, and purchasing a house, Cole came upon the distinct pleasure of having a room of his very own; his study. The room had three windows, a hardwood floor that shined constantly of new wax, a desk upon which sat several yellow legal pads, a Dell Laptop, scattered pens and pencils, and a yellow Gameboy Advance SP. The Walls were a cream color; neutral and flaccid in every way.

After his wife, Gina, had declared the bland room Cole’s personal study (for Cole was a successful writer for a popular video game magazine), Cole began looking for a proper wallpaper to fill the room; to give it life. It didn’t take long; a proper yellow paper gave the look and feel of a playful 20 something, successful adult and he quickly began to find himself spending more and more time in his room. It had been years since he had had a room all to himself and this made Cole happy.

The wallpaper was a sort of dull yellow, not quite mustard but also not quite the color of a faded yellow paintjob on an old car from the 70’s; it was the kind of non-descript color that just added a hint of something greater. Occasionally, Cole found himself staring at the lines in the wallpaper; violent streaks of bright yellow littered the wallpaper at random intervals on every sheet; and sometimes, these streaks moved.

Cole knew that yellow was a magical color, a color of power. What he didn’t know was exactly why it was so. One day after working all night on a review of Devil May Cry 3, Cole found himself staring at a particularly wide streak of yellow. As he stared at it, the streak widened and grew very thin almost seeming to breathe or take on a life of its own. He got up from his rather comfortable captains chair and went to sit in front of the streak on the cold uncomfortable polished wooden floor.

He stared at the wall as it began to move; shapes and movements replacing the lines all the way from floor to ceiling. The shapes and movements began to take shape; they looked like people. In the violent streaks of yellow, Cole could see, well, everything. As the images began their assault on his brain Cole began to sense something about what it was that he was seeing – it was the future. He could see, though still colored yellow, many things happening all at once and always progressing forward. Events, leaders, wars, deaths, births, wins, losses, gains, weather patterns and more all in an almost random, yet slogging forward motion; one scene would form quickly in the paper and become quickly replaced by another. This happened so often he forgot to keep track of what year it was. Did he ever know to begin with? In a sense, he couldn’t see all of these things happening at once, he could feel all of them happening at the same time and his brain could only recognize bits and pieces.

When he finally looked away he could see that several hours had passed. When he managed to look back at the streak, it had become calm. Whatever had just been presented to him was quickly leaving his mind; like so many strange and wonderful dreams we swear to never forget.

BaiBai! ^^/

I guess I should expand on why I feel stupid.

Where to begin…

I’ve been in two relationships in my life. The first one I thought would be forever. We’d have been married 4 years next month if I wasn’t retarded. The second one I had hoped would end but stayed around for physical reasons (as she did as well); but messed me up something fierce.

I’m not ready for anything else. Right now I’m only ready to get myself together, anything else would be dumb. Yet, here I am in Louisiana wishing that another relationship would start when I struggle to call her Ali instead of Carla when the lights are out and that nearly asleep musing voice in my head starts in.

That is why I feel stupid.

Carla and I met and parted ways under the most horrible conditions possible: Drunken sex, 9-11, short term happiness, Abortion, followed by her attempted suicide, followed by her cleaning herself out and going through withdrawal, to my giving up of my silly addictions (laziness, fast food, carbs, self-defeat), but finding another in her and her in me, and finishing with it all suddenly stopping. I’ve not had time to cope with the emotional wrecking ball that our last night together became; it was the stuff that not even a movie could make a person see. I’ve not dealt with it. I’ve not wanted to deal with it. So I’m going to explain it here.

While she and I were together, we weren’t allowed to express affection out in public. She said that this was because she didn’t want her old friends to beat me up but in the long run I think it was because she didn’t want to deal with questions as to why her and her ex broke up or how she and I got together. Over time, I met a few of her friends and while I wasn’t really allowed to talk to them I talked to a few of them over MSN and AIM. As insecure as Carla was about relationships (her ex cheated on her nearly every other night with a wide variety of women), she found me talking to her friend (I can’t remember her name) on MSN. I didn’t think anything of it but months later, after questioning me here and there of what we were talking about (We had been talking of a Valentine’s Day surprise from me gone slightly awry), she springs it on me.

“Nick, did you sleep with (whatever her name is).”

I said no and she kissed me. Then lying in bed she said, “Please tell me when you slept with her.” And then she slapped me.

Now, in my blood there is not a single molecule that would ever conceive of doing such a thing. Despite my leaving the small city, the big city lack of morality has yet to truly permeate me. Yet, here was this girl who swore up and down that I had cheated on her. So I said, “Why in god’s name do you think I cheated on you?”

“I already know you did. Please tell me why.”

Pulling my clothes on I said, “I’m not the cheating kind and it sort of pisses me off that you think I am. My name isn’t Michael. I don’t care what he did to you, well; I do care but that isn’t me.”

To which she replied, crying the kind of tears only a truly disturbed person could manage, “Just please. Tell me what I already know.”

Now, at this point I made a decision. She wanted to hear that I cheated on her with a girl she knew full well I would never sleep with so I said it, “Sure, I cheated on you. It was when you were at a funeral in the Valley.”

And then she slapped me again, hard.

I sort of laughed, grabbed my things and walked out the door. It was 2A.M. and I lived about 5 miles away. I had 2 back packs filled to the brim with books and clothes as well as a smattering of loose articles and no friends within driving distance who would ever bother to come and get me. I walked for about a mile to a convenience store and made a phone call. I made a phone call that too this day my old roommate Brandon refuses to believe I could have made.

“Brandon, did I cheat on Carla?”

“What the fuck? Are you drunk or something.”

“I have to know. I don’t remember doing anything but Carla seems to think I did. I don’t know why.”

“Fuck man. Just give her up. She’s took fucked up to deal with.” And he hung up the phone.

I decided at that point to go back and see if I could talk some sense into her. That was a mistake. I won’t talk about what happened at that point but I can say that I slept there that night and took the bus home in the morning. I didn’t take my stuff with me but I did take some of the more precious things home at that point. A few days later we had decided to see a documentary on Crop Circles to which we had already purchased tickets. It was at that time that we (not speaking at all to each other) packed all my stuff up and never spoke to each other again.

I’ve not thought of that day in ages. I really don’t think I’ve managed to truly get it through my system that that thing actually happened. I buried all my feelings of hurt and pain down so deep and used them to focus on school. Using Final Fantasy 11 I withdrew from as many things as I could so that I could concentrate more. Yet, deep at night in the lonely hours of the morning those old feelings resurface and I find myself bewildered and depressed. Unable to cope, I drift to sleep only to find the next morning my ability to focus has returned.

For almost three years, I’ve avoided thinking of that stuff except for those few occasions when the darkness brought them to my mind but I think that it’s time to stop. It really isn’t so much dealing with it all; but coming to an understanding. I need to be alone for a while; for a long while. I need to pay off my debts and come to terms with the future. I know I have a future, but what is it? Who will be in it? Will I always be alone?

And then there is her; she who is beyond compare in most things. I fancy thoughts of us slowly getting to know each other, separated by a state and suddenly finding ourselves in Japan teaching English and getting to know each other in other ways (take that as you will). Yet, she has just as much emotional baggage on her mind as well and of that, I understand. We may never see each other again after this point; but I can say that I’ve had as much fun as a person could have. And that first night here the second time I came here, amazing.

It took me almost five years to decide to move on after Brett. It’s taken me three to decide it’s time to move on after Carla. The thing that came to my mind yesterday was, ‘You have a long ass way to go to be rid of those demons.’ I tend to dwell on single emotions and thoughts to the point of nausea but it really helps in the long run. Well, at least for me. The rest of you can just look at how weird my brain works and call me a freak.

This one has gone on long enough. Baibai

Currently Reading Song of Susannah (The Dark Tower, Book 6) By Stephen King, Darrel Anderson see related