Poetry. I was reading though some of my old poetry journals the other night. Most of it was nothing special: pretty typical teenage shit. Not to say that I don't enjoy rereading them. For my age at the time (not that age really means anything) some of the thoughts I had were fairly profound. Things I would never think about now. That aspect is really cool. Also, they often read like journals to me. During a lot of the time when I wrote "poetry" I didn't keep a journal or a blog, so some of those memories are definitely preserved in my poems. I still have most of the drafts but they are pretty hard to read with all the scratch-outs and things. I rewrote them in 3 composition notebooks, with gel pens and explanations of my emotions or inspirations. I don't know why I felt the need to call everything I wrote poetry at that point. I mean, many of them simply are a bit of venting, or a thought I needed to write down, but it was not done very poetically. Whatever. I really don't care to prescribe exclusive titles to things unless for some obscure reason it is necessary. I guess though, it is refreshing to write something slightly more poetic, rather than my usual. That is where "things we lost" came from. Well, I don't really know where it came from. I had no clue I had the capacity to write like that anymore. Not that it is even really all that great, but just that it is a completely different style, much more structured than I have written in years. So it was kinda cool to see that come out of me.

Today we seminared on Gaviotas. I enjoyed that book too much to really be enthused about seminaring on it. I mean... people always manage to find so many things to criticize. Granted, there needs to be some degree of critique in the world for progress to be made. Well, that is actually debatable, in some senses. We even talked about that in seminar: what is the motivation for such a community? I mean, everyone in Gaviotas was just doing... what made them come alive, essentially. And that turned into this most perfect, imperfect community. I guess I am just sick of our constant expectation of perfection. We can only strive for so much, and progress is better than nothing. Critique moves progress along, but only if it is reasonable. Gaviotas was far ahead of its time anyway, and some of the problems with it which are controversial now, were actually fairly progressive then, in that culture... or subculture, I suppose. But if we expect perfection, nothing will ever be attempted, and no progress will ever be made. I guess that is a lesson I could adopt. In many aspects I already have. Like I have stated before, if I expected amazing work every time I wrote something down, I would never write. Ben Garrison gets it. He understands that balance. I think he's one of the coolest guys I've met. He is very passionate about things, but will express his opinion with a soft voice. He always has interesting, insightful ideas to contribute to class, and is never overbearing about it. Gosh, I am sitting here trying to think of how to describe him, but nothing is right. No description could properly portray him, as is with most people, but in any case I think he is incredible from what little interaction we have had. I hope to get to know him better in Peru.

So what the fuck? Whats been up with me? ...since I haven't really spelled it out in a while.
I don't think I can try to spell it out right now. I'm almost too tired to think. But I have been absorbing information all fucking day, and I really just need to expel some energy. I guess the main thing is that sleeping has not been working so well for me. I toss and turn for hours once I'm in bed, even if my mind and body are exhausted. My brain... won't shut up. I make lists, I write my thoughts down, I breathe deeply, I drink water. I exercise physically and mentally all day long, and its never enough to get me to crash when my head hits the pillow.

I have... a few main thoughts, big questions, giant questionable urges, that just circle and circle. Possibilities that make so much sense as I am lying in bed. And I resolve to carry them out, to figure them out. But then I wake up... my resolve seems dumb, and all that thought, all that scheming, all that time I should have been sleeping, means nothing, because nothing will come of it. Not in the light of day.

I hate what love is doing to me. What its always done to me, and I guess what it does to everyone. It just skews everything. As if everything wasn't already skewed. Reality is fucking absurdity (all dressed up in a three piece suit), to paraphrase... someone. Alicia told me that quote when I kept insisting Evergreen had been sucked into a black hole. Everything was so obscure. It doesn't feel as strange anymore, but... that is probably because I have gotten acquainted with the idea that so much of life is pure chaos (like Gaviotas was too).

About the poem I posted earlier, The World, and about everything else:
I feel sick. Anxious. So often my stomach turns inside me at these thoughts. At all the possibilities I see.

*hangs head*
there is something I really really need to say, or do. Maybe saying it won't be enough.

..........

Well I just spilled a bit to Ariel who came in to show me her project. I feel better having sort of expressed some of it. There still needs to be more, but that will come a different day.

Tomorrow (today) I am going to go to work where I will do some tutoring and probably some homework. And then after work, at 3, I'm just gonna go straight to the gym where I am just gonna climb (maybe taking some reading breaks) right up until I have to go to Spanish at 6. And I am gonna blast Glen Hansard at the gym if no one else is there, cause that will just be heaven! Then I will eat dinner after Spanish, do some work, maybe talk to the guys about our contract.

I am thinking I still might change my meal plan. I am gonna waste so many block meals if Ari and Cari keep cooking for me, which is far superior to the Greenery anyway. Plus I should probably just use the money I'd spend on block meals, and give it to them for ingredients and such.

Okay. Well it is good that I am purged of some thought. I'm gonna go try to sleep. After I listen to Glen belt it out for a bit. Gotta love his voice, and his poetry. <3