You've already heard me bemoaning the fact that I miss the people I used to live with. And seriously, I miss them because their presence was familiar, comfortable, friendly, and inviting. Today, though, I'd like to cite yet another reason why I miss living with Jared, Jeff, and Brandon. I like to think that I'm a deep fellow, and interested in philosophical concerns more than the material world. But contrary to my normally enlightened detachment from the world (har-de-har, as if), this reason is very much rooted in the physical world. You see, right now, the reason I miss my former roommate and suitemates the most, is because NONE OF THEM EVER PISSED ON THE TOILET SEAT. The same cannot, however, be said of my current suitemate (also named Brandon, but should not be confused with Brandon Donahue, the aforementioned bathroom-clad, C-SPAN-watching political science major). I swear, with whomever might be reading this as my witness, if it happens again I'm going to verbally flay the skin from his bones, and then start locking him out of the bathroom on a regular basis. And by a regular basis I mean every morning, promptly at eight o'clock.

Thank you, that is all.

I couldn't believe it! The other day, someone (I'm guessing maintenance, because it was listed on my room condition report) had the temerity to turn my room's number plate right-side-up. Now, don't get me wrong, it's nice for people to be able to read the numbers above my door, but come on! If you're going to worry about that, isn't it a little bit late now? The plate's been upside-down since I moved in, THREE AND A HALF YEARS AGO. As soon as I saw it, I said, "Oh HELL NO!" grabbed my screwdriver, and turned that thing upside-down again. I know the paperwork says I live in room 309, but everyone who's in the know knows that I've actually been living in room 60E. As if it wasn't bad enough that I'm pulling my hair aout about my thesis, they had to add insult to injury! Well I'm having none of it, lemme tell you.

Now, before anyone gets offended by the preceding post, just let me say that what I wrote was intended to apply to "the dorms." I will miss the friends I've made, each and every one of you. Just so long as you read thepost with that in mind, I'll be happy.

Sometimes I think Vulcan society is superior to our own. Logic leads us to utilitarianism, which is goof for society. And, of course, if we never had emotions, we'd never get hurt, right?

You know what sucks the most about life right now? It's not the fact that my thesis advisor is slow as molasses and making me afraid I might not even graduate. It's not the fact that I don't have a clue where I'm going or what I'm going to do after I graduate (if I graduate, of course). It's not the fact that I know that after May 15th (which is my graduation party, by the way. You're all invited.) I'm never going to see most of my friends again. No, more painful than all of these is the fact that I live across the hall from my ex-girlfriend. I know, sounds pathetic, juvenile, and full of angst, doesn't it? Nevertheless, there it is. It would be alright if I just knew where I stood... If she didn't flirt with me all the time, I'd know I was just a friend. Hell, if she couldn't stand me around, that'd be fine, too. Instead, though, she flirts with me, she comes on to me (and yes, absolutely, I do the same to her. That's not the question at the moment, though.), and then she goes out with the guy down the hall. Don't get me wrong, Eric seems like a nice guy. Once again, that's not the issue here.

You know, it's all my fault, too. I encouraged her to move into the dorms. I was thrilled when I learned she'd be moving in across the hall from me. Three days into the semester, she broke up with me. I begged her for a second chance to make her happy, whatever the hell that means, and she said okay. So, I tried to make good on my side of the bargain. I went over to her room and watched a movie with her the next night. Halfway through the movie, she left the room with Greg -- without saying so much as a word to me -- and didn't come back for, as I understand, three or four hours. I wouldn't know, because after coming to the conclusion that she wasn't coming back -- which took about half an hour -- I got pissed as hell and very emotionally hurt, and left. The next day, I called her from E. Cullen, where I was picking up my national merit book stiped, and we arranged to meet at the UC. She forgot, and wandered off with Jason. I could understand that, if I didn't know for a fact that it takes less than three minutes to get from E. Cullen to the UC. So you know, I gave up. I figured obviously, despite my best efforts, I wasn't doing the trick, so I would let her go her own way, and that's what I told her when, a week or so later, she asked me if I wanted to get back together with her. And that's the way it's been since.

I told myself I was doing the gentlemanly thing... She needed someone to be happy with, and I wasn't about to get walked all over. I told myself I was fine, and that the magic wasn't there, anyway. I realized later I was wrong... I wasn't fine. I'm still not even close to being alright. If I had been honest with myself and with her, I would have told us both the truth... The truth is, I was angry with her... I was furious that she could get my hopes up like she had... I was furious that she could move into the dorm in which I've lived quite happily and without complications for four years... I was furious that we even arranged it so that we were in two of the same classes... All of this, and then she opened up a trapdoor under me, and killed it. I was so angry and so hurt that I couldn't stand to look at her, to be around her, even thinking of her ruined my mood. And then it wore off... We got onto good terms again, and then I realized that we were never really platonic. From the instant I met her, something clicked, and I can't now make myself not feel that.

And now, I have the same feelings of longing and desire for her that I always had, except overlaid with sorrow, regret, and a little bit of resentment simmering somewhere inside... And every time I open up the door to the third floor, my floor, her door is the first thing I see. And if I go in the other door, I walk by Eric's door first, and then my eyes are riveted on Christina's door for the entire walk down the hallway... And no matter what I do, no matter how good my day is otherwise, as soon as I come into the dorms, there it is. It's staring me in the face, that the happiest I've ever been in my life is just a memory, and the person I felt that way with has moved on...

The dorms just aren't a home anymore. I always thought I'd miss it when I moved out, which will be in a month and a half. But now I'm not so sure. One semester of bad feelings has ruined the glow... The people I associate with the dorms are gone. They've all moved out, except for Richard on the second floor. Jared's gone... I still see him, but the late nights of Unreal Tournament are gone, the discussions about art and music and philosophy have passed by the wayside. Jeff's gone... His bird-perching habits, his quick movements and his idiosyncratic outbursts of profanity are in the past. Even Brandon and his constant watching of C-SPAN lent the suite character. The door was always open, I could wander in and see Brandon in his bathrobe talking to his fiancee on the phone, Jared sitting in front of his computer editing videos, watching anime, or reading something online. I'd just start talking, it didn't matter about what... It was comfortable, it was familiar, and it's gone. There's nothing to replace it. You see, I'm not going to miss moving out of the dorms because what I liked about the dorms has already mostly gone. It's left me behind, without me even knowing it, and what's come in its place isn't enough to make up for it.

Coming to this realization, and writing it down, has made this the saddest moment since my uncle died two years ago... I always hoped I would be sad to leave, that I could say goodbye to all the people I've met and learned to love here, and make a clean break, tie up all the loose ends. But these days, I just feel like I'm the loose end...

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life!

Confucius was actually one of the earliest users of the Socratic method. The following is a story that I read once upon a time. Wise man, for sure.

Confucius became known far and wide for his knowledge -- and, more importantly, for his wisdom. Eventually, he came to be sought after by fathers to teach their sons. When asked how much he desired as payment, Confucius's reply was, "Half of what you're able to give." He knew some men cheated him, but he didn't care. In fact, he used it as a lesson for his students. He asked them one day, "Do you know the difference between honesty and integrity?" His students did not, so he told them a story. "I asked your fathers to pay me based upon what they knew they could. I will not investigate to discover if they paid me fairly. I trust them to be honest. But before one can be honest, one must have integrity." The students were dumbfounded, so Confucius chuckled and went on. "You see, those who paid me fairly were truthful to me. But before they could be truthful to me, they had to accurately evaluate what they were able to pay -- they had to be truthful to themselves. Now can you tell me the difference between honesty and integrity?" The students, of course, gave the correct answer, which was one of Confucius's most famous teachings. Honesty is being truthful to others. Integrity is being truthful to yourself.

I, however, would define integrity differently. I would define integrity as doing the right thing regardless of the conesquences. I suppose Confucius's definition subsumes mine. I think they are more or less equivalent. If we assume that truth is immutable, and that for a particular situation there is but one "truthful" response or outcome, and that to be truthful is to be right, then the two definitions are equivalent.

I like to think I have integrity.

Whenever I'm reading something and I see a reference to a poem that has a cool line in it, I find myself compelled to go read that poem. In this case, I was reading MSN's account of the filming of the last episode of Frasier and I saw the reference to Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem "Ulysses." Specifically, the line "That which we are, we are." I said to myself, "Self, that's either really deep, or not so much." So I had to go find out. Turns out it's not really a deep poem. It's very melancholy, though. Nice imagery, reference to Greek myths, which I like, and some good metaphors. It's about getting old, and how death eventually comes to claim all, but that it's not the nature of great men to surrender hope to the inevitable. The line quoted above is from the very end of the poem, and it's well worth recounting here.

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

I hope I feel that way when I'm older.

Someone once argued that causality is impossible to prove in any open, chaotic system. While I think I can buy that argument -- for certain cases, anyway -- there are certain events which appear to be obviously, irrefutably linked. I kick the wall, my toe gets broken. It may be impossible to prove that there wasn't some other cause for my toe getting broken, but we're pretty sure it was the wall. I believe that me kicking the wall was the cause of my toe getting broken.

Look at something different, though. A crosswalk at an intersection. A man walks out into the crosswalk, and gets pasted by a car speeding through a red light. Most people would agree, I think, that this accident was caused by both actors trying to occupy the same space at the same time. So they both caused it? Obviously. If the pedestrian weren't in that place at that time, he wouldn't have gotten creamed. Conversely, if the car weren't in that place at that time doing that speed, he wouldn't have hit the pedestrian. That's Locke's state of nature. They're both equally at fault because they both impeded the freedoms of the other.

But to us, the scenario isn't quite that way. One is obviously at fault, and the other isn't. There is blame to be placed, and it gets placed on the man who sped through the intersection. Why? Did he do something wrong? How do you define wrong? Don't you have to be in the wrong to be at fault, to deserve the blame? We have certain standards in life, accepted models of behavior. Those who follow these models, who draw within the lines, we say are blameless. They're in the right. Those who "break" the law are in the wrong. They're to blame, they're at fault. Even though they're only half of the cause? Absolutely.

But what about things where there are no models? Say, for example, we're playing a friendly game, and someone tries to jump on me. Say I dodge, and that person runs into a tree and hurts herself. Obviously we're both half the cause (or maybe a third, because it wouldn't have happened if the tree hadn't been there... But we'll just assume causality of this sort is a function of free will, and that the tree has none. And I know, that's a much more complicated argument than the one I'm making now. Deal.). If she hadn't jumped, she wouldn't have fallen. If I hadn't dodged, she probably wouldn't have fallen. Or maybe she would have anyway. Maybe we both would have. I am a bit of a wimp. Anywho... We both caused it. But who's to blame? Her, for initiating the encounter, or me for avoiding it? If I'd been standing there anawares, and she'd tried to run into me from behind, and missed entirely and hit the tree, I'd say she was to blame. But I saw that she was jumping on me, and I dodged, even though I'd just spotted the tree behind me (because I almost ran into it myself). So, are we both to blame?

A more important question, I think, is does it matter? When does placing blame matter? When someone can get something out of it? Even if I determine that she was entirely to blame, it won't give me peace of mind. So what's the point? We as humans spend too much time trying to figure out what's right and what's wrong, who's at fault and who's not, who's to blame and who's blameless... Maybe we should spend more time trying to love and respect.

But right now, I'm bothered... I'm bothered by something she said...
"Stupid me, trying to jump on Dathan, when he was just going to jump out of the way. No more trying to tackle Dathan."

It's a shame, because I'd really miss it.

Poem of the day, courtesy of a hopelessy romantic Dathan circa spring, 2000:

I know that the world doesn't listen
Or pay attention to people like me.
And it's not my place or position
To decide how things should be.

And the universe shall continue
As it always has before
Without my seeing you again
Standing outside my door.

And my heart will nevertheless survive
Should you say goodbye.
But I can't help but think
Of that look in your eye

That first made me fall in love
With beautiful, beautiful you.
And I cannot help but wish
You'd say you love me, too.

But being loved isn't everything
Though love is to me;
And so I'll keep on loving you
Just you wait and see.

I'll continue loving you
Day after day after day
Hoping, wishing, praying aloud
That I could, come what may

Even without your love, somehow
I'll manage to survive.
And wherever you go you'll have
A love that will never die.

And if I never see you again
Still life goes ever on
Though there'll an empty place
In my heart when you're gone.

And though another of your smiles
May never grace my eyes
And there will be thundering clouds
Amid rain, and dark skies.

The sun will someday emerge again
And dry up all my tears.
Though it may take spans of time
Measured in months or years

Soon I will get over you;
You'll be part of my past
For even the darkness of
Your absence cannot last.

Thus, in the time before we part
There's something I must do.
As many times as possible
I must say "I love you."

And maybe if I show my feelings
In my eyes or in my voice
Then you'll start believing me.
You'll have no other choice.

And then it will be well worth
The pain and sorrow and tears
And I'll be richer than any king
For the rest of my years

And that will be the final proof
Of a power eternal and grand
A power that infuses minds,
And lives, and hearts, and hands.

The proof of a power given us
By our Lord in Heaven above;
A power everlasting and great:
That is the power of love.

So great and lovely is its power
That I'll remember you forever
And countless many years from now
I'll love you more than ever.

Because you were part of my life
A companion, a good friend
And I give to you a gift of myself:
A love that will never end.

I wish I knew you felt the same
And though I think you do
I have little proof to show,
You gave me but one clue:

For though you've never said it,
Still I'll accept in lieu
The fact that I can see you smile
When I say "I love you."

So let me take this with me
And let me know it's true
That when you smile back at me
It means, "I love you, too."

Sometimes it's good to be sappy, I guess. The poem's a little rough, but I've chosen not to change it from its original form. Nostalgia, maybe.

Love, nostalgia, joi de vie, hope... They're the same thing, really. Joi de vie is love of the present, nostalgia is love of the past, hope is love of the future, and love is just love. The funny thing, though, is that hope and nostalgia are very poetic, but joie de vie isn't. When was the last time you heard a truly great poem about how great the world is this second? It's always about the future, or about the past. The future lives only in our hope and imaginations, and the past lives only in our memories, so we try to give them more life in our poetry. But we live in the present, and it lives in us. It is the only one of the three with life, and hence we need not try to express it. We cannot help but express it. We are, ourselves, the purest expression of the present, even when we're composing and putting into words the past and the future. The future is shaped by our memories of the past. Our recollection of the past is shaped by how we see the present, and how we see the present is shaped by both what we hope for in the future and how we remember the past. It's one, big, beautiful loop.

See what I come up with at 3:00 am? Sheesh, I'm going to bed.

Went to see the movie "Eternal Sunshine on the Spotless Mind" today. However, rather than waxing rhapsodic on the idea that it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, or launching into an eloquent dissertation on how choosing to forget because remembering love is too painful, I'd rather relate the quote upon which the movie's title is based. It is not, as I originally thought, from "An Essay on Man," by Alexander Pope. Rather, it is from one of his other works, a much shorter poem by the name of "Eloisa to Abelard."

"How happy is the blessed vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;"

Alexander Pope is a curious blend of contradictions. He's a hopeless romantic with a cynical streak a mile wide. He's a long-winded, pretentious bastard who can, nevertheless, pack a whole lot of information into a couple lines of meaningful poetry. The lines above are reminiscent of Rousseau's idea of the "noble savage," whom in his ignorance and crudeness is perfect and happy. I am reminded, similarly, of Edgar Allen Poe's lines from "The Raven":

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Whereas Pope, though, offers us hope in that he promises ignorance to be bliss, Poe is swift to deny us this hope: "Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore!'"

Nobody wants to be saddled, afterall, with their demons the way Poe saddles his poor character in The Raven:

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!

Here's wishing you a world of Pope, where Poe is just poetry.

Then again, Pope and Poe have names that are pretty close together. Perhaps, then, it's no surprise that Pope isn't quite as happy as we might think:

"Hope springs eternal in the human breast
Man never is, but always to be bless'd"

Oh well. Damned either way. At least Poe's easier to read.

Ah! Back in the dorms again! Back to work... Darmn!

So, I left for New Orleans with Wes, Pam, and Olivia on Friday. We got there sometime after dark, registered at the hotel, and went out to eat in the French Quarter (I don't exactly remember where... All I remember is that I had crawfish etoufee, I believe). Spent the night, got up late Saturday morning, went to breakfast at the Cheesecake Bistro (I have to agree that the bananas foster cheesecake is superb), and went back to the hotel for a nap. I think is is where I started having problems with the trip. I enjoyed the company, I enjoyed the stuff we actually did, I just thought we spent too much time worrying about where to eat and not enough time just seeing the sights. I mean, a nap on our first full day there? We apparently had different ideas about the trip... I wanted to see everything, they wanted to relax. I suppose I could have wandered off on my own (and it probably would have been a good idea to do so at some point, since I wouldn't have offended anyone by being mopey that way), but I'm not really a loner when it comes to things like that. I don't like to rock the boat, and since I was there with the group... You get the point.

I have to say, though, that the trip had pretty much everything... Excellent food, good stuff to drink, tours, getting lost, getting stuck in traffic, good conversation, meeting different people, relaxing, playing cards, sitting in, watching tv, getting mad, yelling, throwing up, headaches, stomach aches, and sore joints... I just wish we could have done more of all of it. We didn't see enough for my taste, and that made me mopey. You can see why they got tired of me.

I have a few comments/complaints/observations: (A) While I'm just fine around just Wes, and I'm just find around just Pam, I feel like the proverbial third wheel around the two of them. (B) Wes constantly kissing up to Pam gets kinda old. (C) I should have taken a dip in the hot tub.

I wish I'd known from the beginning that Andy, Anna, Ryan, Dustin, and my Mom were going to be visiting New Orleans on Monday. If I had, I'd have come to the realization that I was going to get plenty of opportunity to see the sights, and I would have enjoyed myself more with the other group. Which means, of course, that my brother, his girlfriend, two of our friends, and my mom did, in fact, come into town on Monday, and I did wander around seeing the sights (the street artists in Jackson Square were what I really wanted to see, and maybe even get my portrait done, but no such luck with the first group. I got to see them with the second group, but no portrait, unfortunately.) But we had a really good time, I got a few souvenirs, and even a kite, which I flew earlier today (though, since I'm writing this at 2:30 in the morning, I guess it's actually yesterday). Yay for Spring Break!

In other news, I'm really missing Christina these days... She's gotten a lot better, and since we mostly stayed apart because I thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do (meaning that I feel almost exactly the same about her now as I did while we were together), I'm starting to come to the conclusion that our relationship might be worth a second shot, and I know she'd be agreeable if she weren't with someone else... Speaking of Eric, I'm not even sure if they're officially an item, but I know they're in a relationship of some sort, and I'm not the sort of person to interfere with something like that. But, maybe if they break up before the end of the semester (or sometime later, should I happen to stick around and remain single), I could take her out on a date sometime. That'd be nice.

I just read something over on Blake's blog that made me think... It was in the comments on his most recent post (Mar. 7, 2004). Britnee posted two different comments. The first one states, "But how we make ourselves appear to be is eventually who we will become." And the second, "Sometimes people act like the person they want to be, but that isn't really who they are. And they realize a lot later." When I first read those, I went, "Man, Britnee needs to make up her mind." But now I'm not so sure that either is wrong, or that they're even contradictory. Here's my take on it:

I act a particular way. I try to be nice, I try to be considerate, I try to act toward other people the way I know I'd want them to act toward me if our positions were reversed. I'm not successful at doing it, by any means, but I try, and that's what's important, I think. In the past, this has meant that I go out of my way to help people, even when I know that I'm being abused in the process. And that's the way I was, because that's how I wanted to be. At the time, that's really who I was, and it took a while for resentment to work its way into the picture. When it did, I swallowed it, and kept on doing my thing. Until finally, I decided not to acquiesce. I've noticed it happening more and more in recent days. And you know, I didn't feel bad about it afterwards, I felt better. Not only did I not feel bad for not going out of my way to help someone in an unreasonable case, but I didn't feel that resentment toward them. And so, that's who I've become. If I have a schedule, I don't feel bad for sticking to it rather than helping someone in need, though when I'm free, I'll still gladly lend my help wherever it might be appreciated.

Prima facia, I haven't really addressed the original topic... But here's the thing: When I allowed myself to get walked all over (before I decided it was wrong), that's who I really was. It came naturally, and it helped define who I was. Now that it feels wrong, I act differently, and the way I act now (for the most part) feels right. Hence, it defines who I am. So, my take is: We eventually become what we do, but only insomuch as it comes naturally and feels right. We act out of accord with our nature, and it feels wrong, and we either realize it and change, or we keep on acting that way until we stop realizing that it's wrong, and we become what we do.

Too deep for a Thursday night. I'm going to bed.

Huh... Just like my journal, I suppose. I haven't written in it in almost a year, either. Which begs the question, why? I think the answer is that I've been happy for about a year, and when I'm happy, happiness is enough -- writing down what I'm thinking or feeling is unnecessary. Demanding that I maintain a regular schedule of writing about anything is unnecessary, superfluous.
So that begs the question, "Why am I writing now?" Well, it's not because I'm unhappy. Granted, I wouldn't characterize myself as being effusively joyful right now. I wouldn't even describe my state as being one of general contentment. But I'm not unhappy, either. Rather, I'm feeling introspective, and that's enough to warrant my once-in-a-year post.

When I was in high school, I used to scoff at people when they said I had to work hard, study hard, keep my nose to the grindstone, etc. because how I did was going to affect the rest of my life. These days, though, I believe that. I mean, without my scores on the PSAT, I'd be going to Sam Houston, slogging along there, and (because that's the way I am), I'd probably have few friends of my own, and instead I' be spending my time with Andy's friends. But high school went the way that it did, and I'm here rather than there, and for the most part I'm quite happy with how things turn out. But is that going to be the way of things in three months? When I graduate, where am I going to go? Even if I choose to go to grad school at UH, things won't be the same. I'll be working 8:00 - 5:00, working on my master's degree, and living off campus. I won't have the camaraderie I currently have with my friends, I won't see them nearly as often, and I think that in general I'll be less satisfied with life. On the other hand, if I move away, what do I have then? All my friends are left behind, and I have to start over again, but in the scenario described above for grad school, which obviously doesn't allow nearly as much room for socializing as my current situation does. So, it's obvious that the quantity and quality of my friends is going to change. So maybe that shouldn't be a consideration. After all, if we're really good friends, we'll stay in touch, right? With that in mind, though, I've started looking at my friends in a different light, thinking to myself, "Am I ever going to see this person again? In five years, will he/she even remember my name?" And that pretty much sums up the reason why I'm discontented these days. I've never been an outgoing or particularly social creature. I don't make friends easily, but I lose them very easily. And, based on history, it'll be another five and a half years before I get another girlfriend (though, based on the trends, the next relationship I'm in will last half as long as the last one, because it lasted half as long as the previous one). So maybe I shouldn't worry about it. It's true what they say, you know. Love finds you when you're least expecting it. You're never going to make someone else happy without being happy yourself. So, I'm going to set a few goals that I think are very worthwhile, and best define the course I'd like my life to take, and I'm going to make whatever decisions further those goals. However, since it's not something I can entirely control, I'm not going to include "fall in love and live happily ever after" on my list. It's on the wishlist, though.

Damn, that's one nasty, run-on sentence. Deal.