Good evening everyone! Finally, I have another quasi-uninterrupted time to write my thoughts. I don’t have a formal plan of what I’m going to talk about tonight, nor do I have any specific points I’m going to try to emphasize. What tonight’s entry lacks in formality and uniformity it will make up for in spontaneity. Afterall, with nothing but the randomness of my own mind to guide my words there’s no telling what will pour out!

I figure I’ll start out this blog with an emotional punch. Start with some orange juice, add some slices of pineapple, drop in a few cherries, stir in some socialization, and add a pinch of irony and what do you end up with? Emotional punch! Okay, that was a ridiculously stupid (and simply embarrassing) stab at an incredibly lame joke. Plus, emotional is no where near the word that will represent the main thought in this topic. Nonetheless, I’ve already typed the beginning of this paragraph and it’s quite lengthy and frankly I’m little more than a lazy bum, so it’ll stay as it is. Actually, to separate my meaningless insanity with the true purpose of this topic, I’ll branch off and start a new paragraph.

I’ve spent an abnormally large amount of time around other people over the last two days. Sunday evening I went to a “party” at the next door neighbors house of my parents’ friends. Confused? Don’t worry about it. It was basically about 40 people (mostly adults, but a small handful of people around my age) who met at someone’s house for dinner to watch fireworks. This evening a large group of people (mainly family and my parents’ close friends families) came over to my house for the day to go water skiing and eat lunch and dinner and then watch the fireworks at night. And yes, once again, there were about half a dozen people there around my age. For some reason, I find myself spending a lot of time watching and listening to the other people and how they interact with each other. Why? I don’t know. Somehow, I feel detached though…

It’s not that I dislike people in general, it’s that I so often have a hard time relating to them that makes me draw to myself when I’m in a group of people my age. I mean, I’m nineteen but I have a really really hard time mentally connecting with other people my age. Don’t get me wrong, I can bluff with the best of them. I can talk about sports, reality TV shows, or whatever else these people are interested in to try to make them feel like the conversation is working. However, more and more I’m realizing that I’m trying my hardest purely trying to fuel a conversation; it’s incredibly rare that I find someone I can easily talk with naturally. Yet, then again, I’ve thought about this all the time. What is it that I really want to talk about? I mean, I don’t give a crap about sports. TV is totally lame. I don’t listen to Western music. (I don’t mean Western as in country music, I mean it as in the hemisphere!) I don’t “date” and I’m not actively looking for a girlfriend. I don’t do, watch, listen to, or think about a majority of things that people my age are occupied with. If I could create someone to have the perfect conversation with, I often ask myself what I would do. I mean, what do I like to talk about? Computers? I’m so over them. Japanese music? I don’t know enough about it. Plus, it’s tacky. I just listen to it because I like it. I don’t really have anything more to say about it. What about my South Korean movies? Well, same thing. I like ‘em a lot… but I don’t like talking about them. Even if someone else is interested, I just don’t like talking about them. (If I do talk about them, it’s probably that “fuel” concept I mentioned earlier or a response to a question.) People come in my room and always ask about my bedding (or lack of it). I’ve gotten it down to a drone-like repetitious habit. “No, I don’t have a bed. Yes, I sleep on the floor. No, I don’t sleep on the wood. Yes, I put down a small padding beneath me. No, it’s not because I’m poor. Yes, permanent. It’s been about three years now.” Then there’s the subject of my wall scrolls and posters. New paragraph!

Somebody shoot me now! I think the single most awkward moment in the conversation of every person who enters my room comes when I catch them gazing at my brightly colored wall scrolls of preadolescent warrior girls sitting on giant wolves or black haired dudes approaching slick red motorcycles. I say this because, as they’re looking at them, I know the next thing out of their mouth will be something like “What is this supposed to be?” I then get to play mister museum guide and try to not only explain what it is, but why it’s there (in self-defense). Yes, it’s made of cloth. It’s called a wall scroll and it’s somewhat delicate. No, please don’t pull on it. It’s from Japan. No, I do not only watch “Japanese cartoons” (insert a visible cringe right about here). Yes, they look like something that belongs in a two year old’s room. Yes, I like them a lot. No, I have no idea why. Yes, they look young and immature, but I like to look at them and they make me feel good when I sit in my room for hours on end. Hi, my name is Scott, and I’m a complete and total loser.

postnote: You want to talk about being immature? Look at how many people hang pictures on their walls of cars or half naked girls. Referencing the later one, does anyone else find that not mature, but grossly juvenile? When I see guys’ rooms plastered with all these pictures of half-naked women I just… I don’t know. I’m having a hard time putting it in words. It’s not that it’s the act of trying to look mature makes you look twice as young. It’s just… how do I place this delicately. As people age (especially guys) they have a greater tendency and a higher desire to lust. Feeding it with provocative images of empty women seems like such an apathetic way of giving in. I mean, it’s like they haven’t outgrown their immaturity enough to be able to think about anything except for their “new feelings”, you know? It’s like they have something new, but they haven’t yet learned to control it. The act of TRYING to look old makes someone appear twice as immature.

postnote2: As far as the “Hi, my name is Scott, and I’m a complete and total loser” thing goes, it’s something I’ve said at the end of paragraphs of “disagreement” for years. It’s nothing new, I don’t consider myself a loser, and I’ve done this for years. By disagreement I mean that the world would think what I said is stupid, even though I know I’m right. That confidence in my correctness opens the stage to (mockingly) refer to myself as loser (Which is pretty much a way of saying “If you disagree with me on this, you’re the loser”). I just thought I’d clear that up for those of you who were worried I was depressed or something!

So we’ve established that I don’t really fit in as far as a natural two sided thought provoking conversation goes. Now the next logical question to ask is “why?” and, unlike the past questions that have been raised in my blog, I’ve already thought about this one and think I have a reasonable answer. It has to do with the combination of how little time I spend with “friends”, and how much time I spend at the college. Over the last two years, I can give a true and honest figure that at the very least 95% of my time spent around people roughly my age was at college. While there are a few people my age here and there scattered throughout my classes, a majority of the students are older than me (and quite a few are significantly older). With the exception of two people that’ve recently risen to take it upon themselves to “get Scott out” more, the only friends I’ve had over the last few years were classmates of mine that I studied with. Every semester it was one person in particular. I’d study with them a lot, and it’d be all the socialization I’d have (and all I ever needed and/or wanted!). Arranged by semester (including summers) there was Harmony (Comp. I), Cameron (World Mythology), Lala (Chemistry I), Sergio (Calculus I), Jennifer (Biology I), Marena (Physics II and Biology II), and this semester I’m just a loner! ^_^ Anyhow, every semester change I’d lose all my friends and have an opportunity to make all new ones. It worked out great. I’d have a fresh start every time. However, most of these people were older than me. In my classes, the people I’d hang around and talk to would be (on average) from about 23 to 27. Also, I started college early! Bigtime early. Most of the people my age are in highschool or just starting college. I’m in my third year now. I think that since I spent a lot of time around these people, and spent ZERO time (until very recently) around anyone else, I’ve simply become like those I’ve been around.

So it should come as no surprise that when I am around a group of people who are technically “my age”, I feel so out of place and think that so many of the things they do are immature. Are they really being immature? Probably not, I’m just sued to spending time around more serious people who are older. Yet, I still can’t really just shrug it off. I look around and guys and girls my age sitting around laughing at each others potty jokes and “trying to get” some guy or girl and talking about boyfriends or breakups and it just all seems so young to me. Do I think I’m somehow better than them? No. Do I think that others see me as super-mature? No. (Heck, I have “cartoon” [cringe] wall scrolls in my BEDLESS BEDROOM!) Sometimes I feel bad because I don’t want people to think that I feel left out and feel like they need to correct something. I’ll interact to the best of my ability at functions or wherever else I might be around these people. It’s just, when all you have to say deals with some TV show, when all you listen to is top 40 crap on the radio, and when all you do all day is think about breakups and dating, don’t expect me to be able to relate with you.

postnote: let’s talk about Asian double upper eyelid blepharoplasty!

Scott, did that doll come in the mail yet? Ha ha very funny mom. Evidentially the secret is out on my Evangelion purchase. “You got WHAT?” I can remember the same words spoken about my wallscrolls and lain posters. Oh well. Kelly (my 16 year old sister) brought it up this evening to try to stir up trouble. Everyone was in the kitchen and she was like “Did your doll ever come in the mail?” My dad was like “Scott you got a WHAT?” And Kelly was like “Yeah, on eBay!” and then my mom interjected “He just wants to touch it.” (that sounds so wrong) Evidentially she read my website recently. How awkward. Realistically, I don’t mind if my parents read what I write. I really don’t. At least they’d be able to learn things about me that I’d never be able to world delicately enough for them to pick up on. Yet, at the same time, I fear that by going to my website they might be doing the most damaging and potentially destructive form of damage to the image they have and the relationship they have with their son: skimming. My blog is conducive to skimming. I create it that way. However, you can’t simply skim my blog and expect to be an expert on me. Much more so, skimming only gives you half of the picture and, knowing the subject matter I write about on this website, that can be INCREDIBLY dangerous. Don’t read it and that’s fine. If you want to read it, that’s cool. If you want to talk about something, that’s cool too. Just don’t skim and think that by the shred of knowledge you’ve acquired you have supreme insight into my life. “He’s trying to re-live his childhood!” [cringe] Wonderful, now I have to go into why I clearly stated that it has nothing to do with my childhood in a vain attempt to clarify myself. How embarrassing, humiliating, and awkward. Perhaps I should include an advisory warning stating that if any person is to read my blog, they should either read it well or keep their mouth shut about it.

postnote: As I mentioned about a year ago, I think the concept of a blog is really interesting from a parental point of view. I mean, I know that if I found out one of my kids had something like a blog I’d read it (privately) in an attempt to better understand him/her not just to be able to relate with them or know what they’re going through, but so I could better understand the motivations behind their actions. I’d know what I don’t need to worry about, and be able to look out for warning flags should they arise. We live in a truly unique time in human history. For zero money and zero effort any person can have written documents publicly available globally and instantaneously. Nothing like this has ever before been done in human history. I think the invention of the internet will prove to be more revolutionary than the invention of the printing press.

postnote2: Kyle pointed out that being the parent of a blogging daughter is like having free access to her diary which he can not only read, but search through, in complete privacy and secrecy

Okay, I’m at around 2500 words so I’d better wrap up. I find it amusing when people moan how agonizingly difficult it is for them to write a two thousand word paper. “But I only have two weeks to do it!” I just roll my eyes and chuckle internally. While I’ll openly admit that it is understandably difficult to a lot of people, it simply comes naturally to me because, heck, look at all the practice I have. As long as I stay away from acronyms like IRL in my research papers, I’ll be all right ^_-

Have a good one! I’m outta here. –Scott

I’m sorry guys; my last post was poorly handled. If something’s bothering me, and I decide to deal with it privately, it should remain just that. I was foolish to dump it out on open space. I apologize to whomever may have been discouraged with my words. I have so many things to be thankful for. It’s a shame I so often choose only the most negative and detrimental aspects of my life to focus on. It’s also discouraging that it can result in awkwardness for those around me. The harder I try, the less I feel I can do. I’m sorry.

It’s almost 5am by now. I can’t sleep still. My mind won’t let me go. [sigh]

I really think I need to post this. I don’t know why. [sigh.mp3]

I’m so disappointed. I had full intentions of blogging last night (being that two technical days ago since it’s past midnight) but went to sleep without even thinking about it. Thursday I had homework and that night I had class. I have a large amount of preparation (mostly catch-up work) to do for my final exams in a little over a week, so before I started working on that this weekend I decided to take yesterday Friday off. In a state of

Hence the interrupted thought title. There’s something I have to let go, and this is the only way. 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kIG9mIGEg Y2FyIGJlaW5nIH lvdXIg dmlzaW9uL iAg UmF0aGVyIH RoYW4g ZH JpdmluZywg SSB 3YXMg cH VzaGVkIGluIH RoZSB iYWNrIH NlYXQuICB JIGNvdWx kIH dhdGNoIGV2ZXJ5dGhpbmcsIGJ1dCB JIGNvdWx kbpJ0IH JlYWx seSB jb250cm9sIGl0L iAg SSB yZWFsaXplZCB 3aGF0IH dhcyB oYXB wZW5pbmcsIGJ1dIUg dWhnIEkg Y2FuknQg cG9zdCB 0aGlzL iAg VGhpcyB pcyB ob3JyaWJsZS4g IFlvdZJyZSB zdWNoIGEg bG9zZXIg U2NvdH QuIA== [encryption turned off] Why do I have to be this way? I just wish I were normal. I might be shallow, I might be indifferent, I might be little more than just another person in a crowd, but at the very least I wouldn’t be paralyzed by irrational fear. Although, I know I’m growing from it. And, as I so recently wrote, growth almost always equates to pain, but is usually worth it in the long run. Excuse me; I have to go rest my jaws again. It seems I’ve been clenching my teeth.

What I want is something I don’t need.

What I need is something I desperately don’t want.

Yet here I am, living indecisively, with both.

Good night folks. I’ll wake up cheerful tomorrow morning. Please don’t talk to me about this entry; I don’t want to have to answer questions. Thanks, and have a nice night as well. =o)