And so it is, the shorter story

So here it is, 4 in the morning, I just finished watching Closer, and I'm sitting here, surrounded by unsatisfaction (that's not even a word). I want sleep, I want love, I want sex, I want it all. I want to know who I am and what I want, I want to be as strong as I appear, I want to be successful in the things I do. I want to actually do the things I say I'll do.
I want the world, basically.
And this is a pretty honest post, as far as these things go, but I just have this urge to say something true, something real, something maybe I'm scared about. But at least it's the truth. Because, really...

Someone recently told me that being a good friend meant letting your friends lie to themselves, letting them get away with their own personal brand of bullshit. I really hate to think that he's right, and I denied that remark with all the strength I had, as thrown as I was by the severity of the statement. But I have to admit (while I'm being honest here) that it's at least partly true. Or true for specific people. Or something like that. But there's an element of truth to it that bothers me, and I can't pinpoint where or why.

So here I am, 4 in the morning, writing.
Does any of this actually mean anything? Does it ever make a difference?

Somehow I feel all of my posts are written around questions, the answers too elusive and perhaps too consistently changing to find.
Truth changes forms.

Okay, so not the O'Reilly Factor... but I suppose this is the next most villainous arm of FOX

Hi Matt -

I'm not sure if you're the Matt we're looking for, but I thought I'd give you a try. I'm a producer with Geraldo At Large, a nationally syndicated news magazine anchored by Geraldo Rivera. We are producing a piece on the Monterey Salka controversy, and would like to do a taped, on-camera interview with you about it.

Our program is based in NYC. If you are still in town, we can come to you and would only need about an hour and a half of your time. If you are already headed back to CA, we have a producer there who can meet you at a location convenient for you to interview you. We are scheduled to finish shooting the story Friday, 12/23.

If you are concerned about what kind of questions we would like to ask, I can provide you with a list. We simply would like to talk about a little bit about Monterey, the photo shoot, and your reaction to the Salka's lawsuit.

As usual in television, time is of the essence for us, so if you could get back to me at your earliest convenience, it'd be much appreciated.

Thanks,
Bob Higgins

Seasons of love...And it's definitely winter.

There was a lot of talk about love last night. First it was with Meghann, pertinent to the subject of marriage, and then I brought it up with another close friend of mine, Mike. What is love? I don't know what it is, and despite that, I don't know if I believe in it anymore.
When you're a little girl, an adolescent, a teenager, you watch movies, read books, hear stories...And you inevitably believe that there's some "Mr. Perfect" out there for you; you just have to go and find him. But that's bullshit, or at least I think so now. Perhaps I'm turning into a cynic. But looking at the divorce rates and the number of people who cheat...I'm not so sure humans are monogamous creatures. And if we are monogamous, then what the hell is our problem?
So now I'm still a teenager, at the tail-end of that label, I've never been in a relationship, and I feel jaded; not just because of who I am but because of what I've seen of relationships, mostly with people of my age. People who think they're in love. People who are in love. But I don't even know what that means.
There are a small handful of people on the planet that I could honestly, and with a clear conscious, say that I love. A very small population indeed. But I'm not in love with them.
I just watched my parents take my dog out for a walk, and I've noticed that ever since I've left for college they've been happier. And please don't get me wrong, this isn't a pity thing and I know I didn't ruin their lives or anything like that - three is a hard number. But I used to question so often as to whether my parents were in love or loved each other at all. When things hit rock bottom a few years ago I asked my father if he and my mom were still in love, and he said I don't know. I think that messed me up.
I know everyone's perception of what marriage is supposed to be is based, obviously, on what they saw of their parents' relationship. Obviously, Meghann is more comfortable with divorce and thinks it's much more acceptable than I do. It makes sense. But with everyone's different perceptions and experiences, do any two people really agree? I'm not even going to ask if there's a "right" and a "wrong" way of thinking because I know you can't judge things like this.
As I was frantically cramming for my Sociology final, I read an article about marriage that basically explained that in every marriage, there are really two marriages, and when asked separately, spouses disagree on about a third of the things they're asked about, such as who's in control, who does what household chores, etc. I find this unsurprising. But to me it just adds to my confusion about the subject. How do you make a marriage work when you're obviously so disjointed?
And what about the correlation between marriage and love? Is one necessary for the other?

Too many questions, no satisfying answers. And I suppose I'll figure it out for myself eventually. But it does leave one feeling kind of lonely.

"Love is a many-splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love..."
Right.

J-O-O's

There are only a few times a year when I feel Jewish. Passover, Yom Kippur, and Hanukkah. The first two are obvious. My food intake is disrupted and that causes me to complain to my gentile friends. Hanukkah's also pretty obvious, seeing as how I've been bombarded with Christmas crap since October. I actually like Christmas, though. This will be only the second year of my life that I don't have a Christmas tree. However, even though I'm in the capital of politcally correct, I have yet to see a single Hanukkah decoration. I spend a lot of time at the mall because that's where my gym is. Everywhere is red and green garland, lights, and a giant pile of present with a red throne in front, where Santa sits and talks to the kiddies. As a sidenote, I'm surprised that this Santa tradition still exists. Who wants their small children to sit on an old man's lap? Yeah I thought so.

So anyway. I have yet to see a single aknowledgement of Hanukkah. I'm sure I could go home to redneck ass San Diego and see more. True that Carmel Valley is basically Little Jerusalem, but you know. This is San Francisco.

Today Hailee's mom sent Chelsea and I a package. It contained a pair for each of us of Rudolph socks and a box of Mrs. Field cherry candy canes. Of course I'm not peeved at this at all because I think it's pretty much of the nicest things ever, but I had to chuckle at myself. I'm not gonna lie. Gelt would've been cool.

4:47 A.M.

Child molesters

So last night, Heather, Chelsea, and I decided to go out to dinner at El Toreador, our local neighborhood mexican restaurant. Our first strange encounter was an extremely drunk man in his 60's who came up to us while we were fucking around outside, waiting for a table. I assume he stumbled down from the neighboring pub, Joxer Daly's. He approached us and said, "Can I ask you a question? I'm not a bad guy or anything." He asks how old we are and we tell him, and the following 15 minutes are a blur of slurred life advice, culminating in this little nugget of wisdom,"...and have as much sex and possible, with as many people as possible. But only with me." He then stumbled off and we ran screaming into the restaurant.

You'd think we were safe. Oh, no. A group of four people walk out: two women and behind them, their husbands. We're sitting in the waiting area and the two men (clearly in their 40's) come over say, "Hey, you should come have a drink with us next door." We laugh nervously and mutter after they leave. Another group of men (also in their 40's) walk out and one comes right up to Heather and says, "Let me guess. Vicky. Hahahahaha." The only pleasant coming-on was three stoned surfers from Santa Cruz who were jealous that we were so far ahead on the waiting list.

So here's my question: Why do old men find it appropriate to hit on little girls? I'll clarify this by saying that all three of us were wearing jeans, sweaters, and big jackets with scarves, and Ugg boots because it was freezing outside. There was nothing maturely sexual about us. So what the fuck? You could be my father. For all I know that old man could've been my grandfather.

Alligator wrestlers and dead fish

My University Writing instructor wasn't lying when she said she was writing a novel about a family of alligator wrestlers in South Florida. Turns out my shy, quirky writing instructor is moonlighting as a brilliant fiction writer. Her story, and an interview. It's definitely worth the read.

o0o0o Jet-setter

So yesterday at about 7:45 am my mom calls and asks, "Want to go to Las Vegas for Christmas?" Alrighty then. My mother's manifestation of a mid-life crisis is travel. Sounds good. So I will be spending Christmas Eve and day in Las Vegas and the Paris hotel. And then of course real Paris for Spring Break, including two days in London via Chunnel. And a weekend in New York when it can be squeezed in. Bam.

Surprise!

And, oh yeah, Lit Mag is officially number one in the nation.

The Lovesong of Alfred J Prufrock

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo... - From The Lovesong of Alfred J Prufrock by T.S. Elliot [if you haven't read the entire thing, search for it on Google and read it] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Can you ever really go home again?

Happy Birthday, Mattie!

A few pennies for a few thoughts

So there's a funny thing about respect, and that is that everyone has a different definition of it. Everyone sees things differently in respect to respect. Which makes it a difficult thing to respect.
If you know what I mean.
[I know I'm not funny, bug off.]

People toss around the word, from tongue to tongue, not unlike the phrase "I love you." It's used on a whim, passed on a breeze, unchallenged, unremarkable.
But the thing that gets to me is that respect truly is a remarkable thing. When someone does something so considerate, it touches you...when someone simply gives you space instead of stepping on your toes...when you realize that someone has respect for you from the little things they do...well, it's like being given the most marvelous gift.

____________________________________

If it's true, what they say, about the faults you see in others being the things that you dislike about yourself, well, then I have a lot of work to do.

____________________________________

It is so beautiful here after it rains; it really is magical. The world outside my window just sparkles, the air is incredibly clear, and everything smells like green. I'm being a total cheeseball, I know, but it's not something I can capture on my camera; it's not something I can really share with you without you being here.

Good job, god.
Two thumbs up.

Oh dear

So after a Sunday of losing any and all class that I ever had ever, today has been rather redeaming, and it's only 9 am. I gave my informative speech to excellent reviews (comment excerpts: "My hair used to be that long, I kind of miss it." "You're too cool for school.") Aaaaaaaand I walked home with my flutter and we laughed and it was fun. Yayyyyyy.

However, later today will bring a 10 page essay on pharmacists who refuse to give birth control, which will probably make me angry while I write it. And of course tomorrow I have to figure out how to go to two classes, have a meeting with my French teacher, go to my paper review for English, vote, and go to the gym. On the up side, I get to chill for another three weeks in speech class. Here we go.

Happy Halloween.....weekend!

Okay, kids, let's try an exercise that uses our imaginations:
First, picture the most ridiculous party you've ever been to.
Then, imagine it was a costume party.
Then add alcohol.
Then add more alcohol.
Then add about 300x more alcohol.
Then add a few thousand more people.
Add some more alcohol.
Add some marijuana.
Add a few thousand more people.
Add some more marijuana.
Add some more alcohol.
Then add a few hundred asses hanging out of booty shorts or thongs.
Then add police.
Then add more police on horseback.
Then add more alcohol.
[Lather, rinse, repeat.]
Pretend it's all in the very small "town" of Isla Vista [IV].

That's what Halloween is like in the Univeristy of California, Santa Barbara.
Sort of.

So this weekend was pretty eventful

Well, what do you do when you have nothing to do on Friday night? You drink at Adam's house. So we trekked over there and they were playing Halo so we had to make it more interesting. I think we just sat around in Adam and Ben's room and I made some friends. One guy (his name was either Brian or Mitch, he lied a lot) told me he was Warren Sapp's son and he grew up in Compton. Yeah I dunno. We went home and I locked us out of the room so we went to the front desk and got a lock out key, then brought some of Chelsea's homemade chocolate cheesecake to the guy when we returned the key. Yeah.
Got up early on Saturday and went downtown to hang with my mommy. We got dim sum, shopped, went to tea at the hotel, had massages (at this awesome Japanese spa and I had a private bath and cucumber slices and oranges and yeah), had sushi (at a place with the boats! So cool!), and then slept at the hotel with her. Got up this morning, had homemade croissants, went back to campus (hauling my new clothes on Muni -- joy). Ummm Hailee and Wes and I had lunch with Bob and Jason, then went to Wes's to see his Halloween costume (see pictures at end of this). Then we came back here and watched Anchorman while Hailee straightened Wes's hair. Um. There was some Sex and the City, had chicken-avocado-pesto sandwiches for dinner. That's about it.

Tomorrow night is Castro. Next weekend is Tami and Jamie's birthday party. Will update.

We are all on drugs/What cult got you?

So I had a really ridiculous weekend; probably one of the most interesting weekends of my life.

Some highlights:
:: my "best friend" trying to "break up" with me
:: getting written up for drinking in the dorms [whoops]
:: watching Batman Begins in a movie theater
:: sending a friend to, then picking her up from, the hospital
:: going to Costco
:: all the LitMag drama
:: getting flowers for my half-birthday
:: being excessively bitter
:: documenting it all with my digital camera

So I hugely kicked [yesterday's] sociology final's ASS, thankyouverymuch, and I expect to kick very little ass on [todays] Greek Mythology final.

It's that time again, so here's the list of classes I'm considering taking next quarter [choose three]:
+ Intro to Cultural Anthropology
+ History of Jazz
+ Beginning Ballet
+ Beginning Ballroom Dancing
+ Principles of Micro [or Macro] Economics
+ Dinosaurs
+ Music Appreciation [or] World Music
+ Intro to Buddhism
+ Zen
+ The Teachings of Jesus

Feedback and/or opinion is greatly appreciated. I'm way into lists today. So into lists, in fact, I'm going to give you a list of photographs, per usual:
[WARNING: drunk photos ahead...possible ALL drunk photos ahead...]

party in Brett's room!!! [til the fucking RAs shut us down]

between the damn Natty Ice cans that got us fucked in the end

thanks, Nicole [she's on the far left] for having a birthday
so we could have a birthday PARTY

drunk roomie love is still valid roomie love

Good job, Ted.

So can I just say

That I love my critical thinking professor. Today we were doing some activity and she imparted upon us some Southern wisdom from her childhood in Virginia.

"General Lee did not surrender. Ulysses S. Grant picked up his sword and Lee was too polite to ask for it back."

"It is not called the Civil War. It is called the War of Northern Aggression." (picture that in a Southern accent).

News beat

Parents file $1.5 million claim with school district after ...
Semi-Nude Photos of Students in Literary Magazine Exposes Legal ...

Good Morning, America

Matt,

Wondering if I could talk to you briefly, and off the record, about "First Flight" from Torrey Pines. I am a producer for Good Morning America, and we are trying to get our heads around the story that ran in the SD Union Tribune this morning about the literary magazine? Can you call me at your earliest convenience. As I said - off the record... I just want to get someone's take on what really happened.

Cheers,
Bradley Lautenbach
Good Morning America

Photo uproar might have been avoidable
Claim filed over photos in student publication
Photos of seminude Torrey Pines student spur $1.5 defamation claim
Semi-Nude Pics In School Mag Spark Legal Action
Photos of semi-nude Torrey Pines student spurs $1.5 defamation ...
Parents File Claim Against School Over Photos
Parents Sue District For $1.5 Million For Semi-Nude Photos

insert obscenities here

So tell me, please, someone out there in this world, WHY?
Just in general. Pertaining to everything.

Just why?
And also how could you?
And also how dare you?

I always hated it, just HATED it, when people said, "the only person you can ever truly rely on is yourself." Mostly 'cause I knew [how foolish am I?] that you'd ALWAYS be there.

Apparently I know nothing.
And it's never hurt so bad.