Now More Happier.


The Ever-Suffering

For the second time in a month I heard myself compared to the Buddha today. This time it was from a teacher I hold in rather high esteem. But I'm not really sure where the aforementioned comparison comes from. Wisdom? Maybe; I've got it, anyway...beyond my years, certainly. But it's been earned and I'm capable of making dumb decisions just like the next guy, so maybe it's a moot point. Suffering? I bear it. Everyone experiences it, it passes. Life moves on, I dwell and then try to follow. Peace? Hardly ever, but I try. If my life were a movie or a book, the quest for peace (and its unattainability) would probably be the overarching theme.


Graduation is coming up, and it's definitely as bittersweet as I expected last year. I miss my graduated friends (who I rarely talk to these days) and I'm going to miss my not-quite-yet graduated friends come August. There's a wall in school of people's names and the colleges they've gotten into, and walking past it is like looking into a myriad of futures. I can see my classmates in college somewhere far, far away...but the other students have the same faces as the people that go to my school. It's hard to imagine a world beyond ARGS, yet it's so tantalizingly close. It's kind of scary, and I'd be willing to bet that the end of June will suck. But life goes on and so must we.


General Update

I hate to give excuses for writing, but this time I feel obligated. I've got nothing better to do, and I can't log into World of Warcraft. Ergo, blog post.

The bad moods of a few posts ago have, gradually, faded into the night of emotions. With the exception of a few moments of melancholy introspection, I'm doing swimmingly. At worst, I'm a little gloomy and at best outright happy. Things could certainly be better, but with tennis, school work and graduation coming up, I'm able to find ample distraction for myself.

Speaking of tennis, my current record is 2-1, soon to be 3-1. Last night was probably some of the best competitive tennis I've ever played. I more or less manhandled the first seed (best player) of Dinwiddie's team, beating him 8-4 and thoroughly mindfucking him. I then teamed up with Josh to play an amazing doubles game, described by some as 'beautiful'. We won the first seed doubles 8-4. It's the first time that my summer of work has really shown itself - during the first game I was far too nervous to play well and the Essex game wasn't even a test of skill. I've beaten people pretty soundly in challenge matches during practice, but I've lost a couple times too and they don't really count anyway.

Lastly, I'm almost done with Atlas Shrugged. I think I'm going to find a book to read in between it and The Fountainhead so that I don't have a Rand overload. Don't take that to mean, however, that it is not really, really good. Everybody should read it. Objectivism lines up with my beliefs pretty well, and it's a good story on top of that. My only problem, and it's not huge, is that the philosophy is added to the story very obviously. That is, most of it is contained in long speeches by one or two characters and simply exemplified (but not often explained) by others. On the whole, though, it's a phenomenal book.

Synopsis: Life's alright.


A Night of Giants

I live for nights like last night. We (the tennis team) and the soccer team got out of school at about 2 to head to Essex High for an afternoon of athletic competition. The tennis team got a pretty easy victory, winning 8-1 and more or less dominating in every victory. Our first seed couldn't show up, due to a model UN thing, but our seventh still held his own and got a win. It was pretty sad (for Essex). The soccer team had a much more exciting game, culminating in an overtime victory with 2 minutes left on the clock. We rushed the field, and that was fun. The camaraderie on the bus on the way back to Petersburg was like nothing else. It's always fun to take a bus to an away game, but it's much cooler to do so with another team. The more the merrier, I guess.

I'm hesitant to say that things are on the up and up, but it would be nice.


The Valley Floods

I held out hope, but it was (as I more or less figured), in vain. After the break up, which was at least, I suppose, amicable I went back to class and it was pretty much normal. The rest of my day was ok, until the end of tennis practice when I started becoming unglued. The coach even noticed and advised me to cool down. But...ugh, breathing exercises can't relieve all this pressure in 30 seconds. Sorry. I made it home and to my room fine. Barely. Even now, after I've vented a bit, I couldn't describe how I feel. Angry, I suppose. At myself and at her and at life in general. And sad, for the obvious reasons. But I've been miserable for the past few weeks anyway, and she hadn't helped much. So maybe it's tinged with relief and my eternal optimism. And there's definitely regret, because I think a talk somewhere along to way could've solved everything. I feel like the dog whose master is dangling a treat just out of reach. Except instead of a treat, it's happiness and the prospect thereof. And instead of a master, it's life. [Bam, an analogy is born.]

I kind of miss the 'good days,' pre-awkwardness. These are the days when conversations ended in 'muah' and I might get (or give) a call just saying goodnight. Like that lucky dog, I had that treat. Like a total bastard, it got taken away before I'd truly had time to enjoy it.

Life...kind of sucks these days. And I'm tired of walking around like a sad sack, because I really don't like the feeling of people who feel bad for me for no reason. I mean, sure, if you know where I'm coming from, go for it. Let's get the pity party on. But just because I look sad, it kind of bothers me. That's my job, is to be the rock that's there for leaning.

I still kind of want to break something.


The Dam Cracks

First off: Tennis is going good.

Second off: Life is not. I'm sure I'll be able to ellaborate more on this tomorrow, but right now dozens of things are simply piling up and adding to the general trend of 'Shit on Daniel'. And right now, I want to scream and cry and break things. I want to throw glass against a brick wall and hear it shatter and flinch as shards fly back into my face. I want to break something with my hands and take joy in the destruction then break down in a fit of sobbing. I want to let this repressed, calm sadness out and let the tears of sadness and the savagery of an impersonal anger break through my marble mask. I want to let the reptilian part of my brain take hold and just give up control for a few desperate minutes. I want to let my intelligence flee because the God who willed it to me is such a bastard sometimes.

And I'm pretty sure that someone is going to ask me if I want to talk. But I don't, really. To put words and a nice face on these feelings is to put them on a pedestal they don't deserve. Simply acknowledging them feels like I'm lowering myself, by recognizing the existence of such base instincts in myself. By allowing the lower part of humanity to exist, I fail to transend, to become better than the average person.

But I'm a firm believer in equilibrium. Good shall arise from the bad like a phoenix from the ashes. But I must say, it better be damn good, or I'll feel cheated on the cosmic scale.