save me the waltz

I had just finished, not more than moments ago, Zelda: The Biography and am happy for doing so. Finally, after starting it all those months ago when Justin came into town, I had finally gotten to the bibliography page. I was both disappointed and exalted at the end of the book.

I was disappointed due to the fact that the author would do pages and pages of literary criticism on Zelda’s work, which if I wanted to read, I would have bought such. But no — pages and pages of worthless crap attempting to intone how Zelda’s work mimics her own life. Well duh. A writer who writes about what he doesn’t know is a fool.

So many things in my mind tonight. Freaking figures. An hour ago I was lying in bed, could not sleep for the life of me, and now I am tired and yawning. I must sleep soon for else my next few days are going to be fucked up like a bitch. Thursday is the day from hell with midterms and I teach Interweb 101 that night. I need my beauty sleep. But I keep working strange hours and thus don’t get the sleep. Working is the schtick. I keep playing freaking spades with Shelly and Dave all the damn time. 🙂 Not this is necessarily a bad thing — gives me more time to flirt with Dave. *suggestive*

However, the rant this evening isn’t about spades, my new PHAT pipe to the Interweb (i just got 56k — woo!) or the fact that I’m really obsessing about Henry Rollins right now. Nope, not even about the fact I’m going to bare his love child. Uh nope.

In all honesty, tonights rant is about high school. For many of you (us/them), either you’re in it or just gotten out of it. My little foray into high school ended nearly nine years ago (yes — I’m old. Shoot me.) Now that it seems so far distant — my question is this: WHY AM I STILL LETTING THE STUPID POPULAR PEOPLE IN HIGH SCHOOL RUN MY FREAKING LIFE?

There. Now i feel better.

Let me begin by explaining:
Earlier today, a fine lass named Jessica from a mailing list I’m on, had emailed in about the old saying “high school is the best time of your life” and proceeded to prove to us, in her opinion why it was not. I had followed up with this tasty bite:

My freshman year of high school, I got tested for an IQ test because my MEAP test was really high.  They wanted to put me in an high school that _geared_ for placing students into college. They taught Latin, Greek, were socially conscious -- not these see jack run public school classes. I was accepted and refused to go. I wanted to stay with my "friends". Big mistake.

Later on that year, our AP Biology class went to Kentucky to go see Mammoth Caves. One night, I got pulled into a room with the jr varsity swim team. I knew most of these guys -- I was friends with most of them from classes and socially. One of them pushed me down onto the floor and attempted to fuck me in front of his team mates.  I pushed him off of me, went screaming into the bathroom, locked myself into the bathroom and started yelling out of the window (the window was only about 1 foot high and 18 inches wide). My cabin mates came and forced the "boys" to open the door and let me out.  Not one adult was told.

That Monday, rumours spread around the school (1500+ students) that not only did i fuck him! i gave head to every guy (about nine) in that room. No one said a thing, my parents were never told and I soon forgot about it. However, the impact of that was amazing.  I went from being 5'10 and 140lbs to 5'10 and 200+ lbs. During my sophomore year -- most of the time when i did get asked out, it was because of those rumors.  Funny that, the most I had ever done until that time was kiss one boy.  never even felt a penis until much later on. In my jr year, it was under the advice that I drop out.  Actually, I instigated it.  I was clinically depressed, had already attempted suicide (and that rumor was spread like crazy).  I had gained a lot of weight, was smoking, and had also was on my way of becoming an alcoholic.

When I went back that fall to re-do my jr year, I got taunted and teased by my classmates (and upperclassman, whom would have been my class).  I got mocked by people in the middle of the mall (an open area that adjoined the two buildings).  Teachers had very little apathy or hell, even empathy for me.  By the end of THAT jr year, I had made the decision to go live with my dad in Toronto. When I came back a year later, I got notified that I was short ONE credit from YMI  system to graduate.  I took my GEDs in November of 1991 and scored in the top 3%.  The instructor looked at me incredulously, because:
a. i completed them in 1/3 the time 
b. i completed the whole series of tests within 1/2 the time
c. i had scored the highest that he had ever seen.

However, the stigma and shame I still feel 8 years later from having a HUGELY crappy high school experience (include psychopathic mother and her
string of BFs), I won't claim a GED -- but that I graduated from York Memorial Collegiate Institute in Toronto, Ontario.
And ya know what?
Not one person had ever caught me professionally for "lying".

High school sucked the big one.

I had been thinking about this recently and Jessica’s query and a nice little piece in the SF Chronicle about people bitching about TOO MUCH homework got me depressed. and angry. and furious.

Several weeks ago, since I’m still under the impression that these nitwits DO run my life and I am nothing more than a puppet on strings, I got on altavista the other day and searched for the people i went to school with. And you know what? I couldn’t remember /but/ three names! and of those names — I couldn’t find /anything/ about them on the internet. Strange. The internet has been my whole world for the last four years — and by now, if i can’t find something about someone — they must not exist.

strange to think that i had let this whole group, nee’ this fantasy, foible of sorts and nothing.
one day, I’ll write more and rid myself free of these demons.

x0x0x0x0x

voices trapped in yearning

after i had gotten home last night (exulted in the few hours of freedom of being both cathleen and justin-less), i had started reading old email while waiting for shelly to come on-line so that she and I could play backgammon.

i found an email sent to me from an “admirer” of sorts who was responding to both my page and the wired article that had appeared back in early February. and for some reason, that email tugged a cord at my heart. the person basically had said: make a concrete decision: either leave justin or accept the situation.

for the last three months, congruently, I’ve been struggling with the idea of what is right and what i want. for many people, as i have learned, their life is fairly mapped out for them and they have a basic sense of what they want and need. for instance, i had met a few girls from my political theory class. both girls are 20 and 21 respectively and are dating men who are older than me (27). both girls are ambitious enough to finish college within a short time period and get on with their life, however, they had both told their BFs that “they are done being children”. while i had admired their perseverance and energy, it bothered me that they were in such a hurry to grow up. at 26, i still find myself floundering in what course i want to take. Some days I want to be this organized and methodical person who desires a truly academic life. On the other hand, I want to be completely wild and crazy like Zelda Fitzgerald and live for the moment. both sides are true and both sides are untrue.

i was beginning (natch — being solitary) to wonder if i was the only one — but part of felt drawn to these girls because many of their fears and desires corresponded to my wants and desires. i could empathize and sympathize with getting ahead and doing something “more” with their life — but on the flip side, i had felt (and always felt) that there had to be time enough for love and life. so many opportunities i have let by — on the context (and pretext) that similar ones would come again. for the better part of my adult life — this has been true.

does this make me lucky or unlucky?

some would say, that in my aspects, i live a charmed life. i live in a great area (by someone’s standards), i have a decent job. i have a lot of friends who do care about me (michael 🙂 and i have many outside interests that help define me much more than me is being defined now (new obsessions: sarah again, henry rollins, zelda fitzgerald, unconventional philosophy, pentel r.s.v.p. pens in blue fine point). i still feel like I’m always this undercurrent of emotion. that my desires keep changing — thus while it makes ‘me’ me, but it also destroys any thing that could lead some sort of happiness for a brief time.

last week justin and i had another long talk (in fact several within the last few weeks). i finally told him point blank that i wasn’t in love with him. he knew! don’t get me wrong — for months I’ve been saying that he knew — and he did know. maybe he thought he could push it under the rug and it would go away. But as many of you who have been reading know I harp and harp on many of the same subjects for hours 🙂 hehe (literally — days worth of entries).

It was painful — but it still didn’t make my convictions “clear”. I still feel this overwhelming need to STAY with him. I don’t know what for — financially? emotionally? maybe I’m giving up?

balls

A recent entry from my guestbook:

Name: Tim (Homepage) 
Country: Baltimore, USA    
Date: Tue Mar 9 19:25:15 1999 
Comment: You are obviously mis-guided, hostile towards life in general, and sound very unhappy. Seek some counseling.

I don’t mind if people email me and give me advice. However, I cannot take you seriously if you comment on me/this webpage/my life in general if you don’t have the fucking balls to leave an email address or something in terms of contact. This coward had no issues leaving some lame ass post on my guestbook about me and yet doesn’t have the courage to leave some form of contact. What the fuck ever.

Therefore, if you wish to contact me in any matter — so be it. However, do not let me mock you if you cannot have the balls to leave an email address.

feisty
The weather is has been absolutely wonderful these last few weeks. I have had no motivation to do anything other than attempt to sun myself and find some solace in the world outside. Recently, I’ve been spending quite a bit of time writing in a written journal and not updating TLC as much as I should. I’ve been completely in-love with the new pens I’ve bought and to celebrate, I purchased a brand new journal. I’m taking the existing one to be turned into a book journal.

I’ve been reading Zelda: A Biography these last few weeks. I had attempted to read it many moons ago when I was on my Fitzgerald kick. However, after reading Tender is the Night, I found the comparison between the two books (one fiction, the other not) to be too overwhelming. I started getting mad at F. Scott for taking his wife’s life and turning it into best sellers.

A few weeks ago I was bored and needed something to read. Several of F. Scott’s short stories were sitting on the floor by my bed when I had made the conscious decision to read them. I was so enthralled with Flappers and Philosophers, that I decided to start reading Zelda again.

This time, it has been going much better however the book is (in some places) dry and it seems that the author (Nancy Milford) bases too much emphasis on the letters Zelda wrote and taking all of Save me the Waltz and turning it into a literary criticism. What you get with the book (which is now out of print) is combination of hero worship, criticism, and rambling on.

For instance, Zelda’s birth through 18 years of age (when she met F. Scott) took up about 50 pages. However, it’s taking 3x that length to go through her few weeks in mental institution and a brief periods (less than five years) in an almost daily blow by blow account of her life. It’s a bit stuffy to read — however, after doing some major searching on the Interweb (and major booksellers) I found that Zelda: A Biography was the closest (if not the only) thing I had available to me to give me insight into Zelda’s life. Every other book (about five in total from what I had found) have long been out of print along with any book chronicling her life with F. Scott is also out of print.

While there is a lot of material about F. Scott and his work (including different editions of the same book, criticisms, and other fun stuff) anything having to do with Zelda alone or combining Zelda and F. Scott no longer exists.
This makes me sad, as I love Zelda.