Saturday, May 16, 2009


I'm home from college, and I don't really know what to do with myself. I am trying to do things because I really want to do them, not because I feel like I should, or out of habit. It has been nice to see people, in general, and I've enjoyed reading some of Either/Or by Kierkegaard, but I don't really know what to do now, when I've reached a part of Kierkegaard that I'm not that into, and no one is around to hang out with. I think I need a new book, and maybe some sort of new area of knowledge to learn. It's also nice to do nothing, absolutely nothing.


Friday, May 8, 2009

l jizz nal

In the past few days, partly as a way to procrastinate, I've been going through people's old livejournals. I don't really know what to make of this, being so fixated on the distant past as I near the end of my freshman year of college. I guess part of it is just the strange combination of emotions I feel when I read them. The livejournals make me laugh, they make me sad, they make me nostalgic, they make me happy to be older. But they don't really help me understand anything. Is that what I'm looking for, some sort of understanding? My livejournal, in particular, is completely mysterious to me. Who the hell was I in eighth grade? I don't really get anything that I don't already know out of my livejournal. But I guess there is something in its general tone, some ineffable Tommyness, that gives me some sort of, I don't know, strength and hope for the future. There is much in bushisamonkey's short-lived livejournal to be ashamed of--my feeble attempt at a poem and pretty much any time I talk about a girl potentially being interested in me, in particular--but there is a lot in it that I am kind of proud of.
As a side note, I don't think we really realized how much shit we would have gotten into if the whole You flamer thing had been uncovered. I mean, this wasn't just an online thing. It was writing in people's science notebooks, writing on people's desks; I think it really could have been called stalking or harassment or cyber bullying or some combination of all those things. I remember singing some sort of "Meat Hands" song softly to myself while walking behind Cole Caivano one day in eighth grade math, and I'm so glad that no one heard me.