Journals and Journal Comics

I just finished reading Craig Thompson's Carnet de Voyage, it was a journal comic and sketchbook he wrote over a 2 month period when he was on a comic tour and vacation in 2004. At the end of the book he talks about why he did it. He talks about his motivation to draw it and his trepidation about selling his sketches and a journal. It made me think about why I like reading diaries and journal comics, and why I did my own journal comic.

I am a nosy person. In the past I've gone through bathroom cabinets, purses, wallets, bags, pockets, rooms, cellphones,  anything. I'm curious about other people. The things people keep in their wallets, the stories the items tell and the explanations their owners give. Items in a way, tell what someone finds important. IN my own wallet right now I have one dollar, my campus ID, my driver's license, my bank card, a membership card for Local Heroes, my social security card, a copy of my savings and checking account numbers, insurance cards, an expired bank card and a few other scraps. The sweatshirt I wore today has my wallet, phone, cigarettes, two lighters, two pens, scraps of paper, some garbage, and pain killers, it had my laptop and mp3 player in it earlier. My bag has ball point pens, inking pens, mechanical pencils, a set of Derwitt drawing pencils, two sketchbooks, two novels, one comic, hand lotion, some candy and probably garbage and loose pain killers.

Those items tell you I enjoy drawing, reading, I smoke, I don't remember my banking numbers, I like comics, I either don't carry cash or I have no cash. That's a lot of things to learn from not talking to me and just going through my things. I think that's why on dA the room meme or bag meme goes on, people are interested in what people keep with them. On formspring I've gotten the question 'what's in your pocket right now' a few times, people are curious about what people keep with them. I think that why I enjoy reading journals and diary comics, to see how others live.

As I was reading Carnet I was thinking about how I'd draw a different journal comic than 100 Days, I want to do another one at some point, maybe this spring. I've been thinking about limiting it to interesting events, but anything can come up, I don't know yet.

Carnet was interesting because of how personal it is. On the last page when Thompson is talking about why he did it, even with the pressure from his publisher, a friend told him he should draw it for himself. I went that route with 100 Days, but I think I may try something different with the last 50 or so pages that I haven't finished yet, in a way make them more personal, even though some days get incredibly personal. I don't know, I might save those ideas for another journal comic.

Some other Internet journal comics I've enjoyed are Dar, Ellerbisms, The Everyday, Journalin' Comix, Johnny Wander, Kid with Experience, Little Gamers, So Far Apart, Three Panel Soul and I'm sure I've got others I'm forgetting. Some published autobio comics I've enjoyed are Will Eisner's work, Blankets, Spent, Too Cool To Be Forgotten, Persepolis, Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic, and all the ones I can't see from my perch on my bed. Some biographies and published journals I've enjoyed are David Carradine's Kill Bill Diary, Room Full of Mirrors, everything I've read by Jonathan Ames, and as before, what I can't see form my perch on my bed. I really like being able to peek in at different people's lives, see how they live, what's important to them and how they change over time.

I think part of that was my motivation for 100 Days, to be able to look back at what my life was for a summer when I was 21. To see times when I was happy, what I enjoyed doing, watching, reading and then being able to reflect on things. Even now I find it enjoyable to look at what I did only three months ago, some of these pages I haven't seen in months so I've forgotten what I did, how I felt. Sometimes I get swept away by my own emotions, falling into a mild depression because of what I did that day or remembering happy days. It's been interesting and good I think. I don't regret drawing this out, I don't regret posting it online, I don't really regret anything I said there either. I do have a moleskin sketchbook/journal that's a larger format waiting for something to be put in it, I might use that for my next one. We'll see. Maybe I'll have a reason to start it earlier. 

Jasmine P.

Esoterically Me

I am esoteric. I rely on other people without blatantly telling them that I rely on them. I use my friends to validate me to such an extent that when I'm alone I decide I'm worthless and want other people to tell me what to do, how to act or even just tell me to do something I already want to do. Like, right now, I'm friggin' giddy over this dude. I spend too much time contemplating what he thinks about me, what I'm wearing or things I like or say. I have elaborate fantasies of us just hanging out or him actually asking me out and it both cheers m up an depresses me. I feel like I'm loved but then I think about who I am and how I act and decide there's no way he'd like me and I'm back to where I started again. Sometimes I make elaborate plans to boldly say what I feel but it never works out. I'm either too distracted in the moment (too giddy, too eager, too nervous) or I'm finally calm again and I'm confused as to how I feel. I'm going insane. The person I actively turn to tells me to just go for it, but then I'm too afraid, or I don't know the next time I'll see this guy.

I'm esoterically me because I post song lyric for unrequited-love songs as my status on facebook hoping he gets the message. I say we should do something together, effectively saying we should go out or I go out on a limb and directly ask him out. I'm tired of being so stressed out, I want to forget about romance and infatuation and just focus on being stressed about school and classes and getting my life together.

I want a cheat code to get to the end. I want to peek at the last page of the book to see how it all ends, I'm tired of turning the pages one by one and feeling like I progress no further into the story then I was when I woke up this morning. I at least want to say something before my journal comic gets online. There's flirting  something like...6 or 12 days in, love sick whining for the next two months then meager interaction for the last few weeks with an increase in pining and being a whiny bitch. 

I'm tired of being so esoterically me.
Jasmine P.

Fuck, this whole rant is esoteric.

My Past 24 Hours: A Hellish Roller Coaster

Yesterday I spent about...4 hours watching the first two series of Black Books which was created by Graham Linham and Dylan Moran. It's a fantastically awesome series about three misanthropes. Bernard Black run Black Books, a used bookstore; Manny goes bonkers and starts working there and Bernard's friend Fran spends a lot of time hanging out in the shop. They live drinking, smoking and being all around ridiculous.  The characters remind me a bit of a British It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia at times, the humor isn't as dry as some British comedies can be. It made yesterday pretty damn awesome as I started sinking into being depressed.

Speaking of being depressed...I went to counseling yesterday morning, like most Tuesdays. Prior to I did that stupid thing where I sleep for four hours. Seriously, I think it's a retarded side effect from quitting smoking. I don't know, it's really friggin' annoying. I woke up at 6, I was able to get back to sleep, but being awake was not plesant. It's not like I didn't feel rested, but I know me and I know my habits so I don't understand why I keep waking up after only four hours of sleep.

In councling I spoke about what's gone on over the past week including going to a festival this past Friday and going to a youth church thing. I can appreciate where the group is coming from by using rap to make the youth feel closer to the message [it was a predominantly black church group] but I don't agree. It sounded mostly like hardcore rap which seems a little counterproductive. What I mean is, if it sounds like gangster, shoot-'em-up rap and you can't understand what's being said, how do they know the message they intended got across to the youth? If you look at my track record of music habits I'm across the board, except for hardcore rap. I never liked that sound, it has never been pleasing to my ears so I was judgemental. If you remember my earlier blogs about my opinion of religion I was already going in judging. I tried to get with it but I couldn't. When the speaker got up on stage to preach I was more or less fine with the message. He spoke about not giving up because something is too hard. That's the Devil's work getting you off your proper path. That I could get behind. I could not agree with his use of a cancer analogy.

For the newcomers, my mother died from cancer. I don't like talking about cancer in that ambiguous manner that if someone died from it, they gave up. Bull-fucking-shit. My family and I never 'gave up hope' we held out  candle for my mother the entire time she was ill. We prayed, our church prayed, her co-workers prayed. She's now on a prayer list or something with some church, still. People have not forgotten us. There were a lot of people who didn't give up praying for her. The doctors did the best the could and ended up trying to keep her pain manageable. She died because of science. Why do I not want to accept it as God's will? I'll tell you. I don't want to accept it as God's will because I still needed her. I still need her.

I have met a lot of people who care, who will give me advice and help me should I ask, and even if I don't ask all the time. That's all well and dandy but my mother is still dead. It's not the same. If God cared about me than why did she need to die? So I could grow up? What's going to happen in my life that I couldn't stay naive for a few months longer, a few years longer.

Why did she have to die, science can explain. The massive amounts of chemicals in her system took their toll on her body, it could not take it anymore. Her kidney's stopped flushing water from her blood; her lungs deteriorated from pneumonia getting a hold of her chemotherapy weakened system and her body was too far deceased and disconnected to continue. Her body knew it was time, it tried to keep up but it couldn't repair itself fast enough. The thought that biology happened, that it's the natural order of life and death, that all living things die at some point made me feel better than saying 'God wanted her to come home.' Science gives me answers. I believe in science. I believe in some deity getting things started and is now sitting back or just plain gone and this world continues circling that fucking star. Science has yet to give us all the answers. I can accept that. I mean, if the universe started from the 'Big Bang' where did the elements come from for that initial beginning? If they came from an even earlier universe, what happened to that one? And where did that one come from?

We don't know, so I believe in science as far as it can give me an educated answer. It might all be wrong but it makes enough sense and seems plausible enough for me.

I left counseling this morning with my counselor asking me to detail how I felt as my mother was sick, when she died and after. Thankfully I have so many damn blogs and journals it's kind of like aggregating it and maybe writing something new, or taking this. Not too sure yet.

I left counseling and killed some time until I went out to Jerry's Art-Arama to get supplies for my color theory class. I spent $184 to get my supplies, giant 19X24 bristol, color aid, pencils, triangle, compass and a shit ton of 'other'. I did get to save abut $20, my friend who is now dropping the class, is letting me borrow some things for the duration which is pretty sweet.

Now, the trip back from Jerry's, which is out in Virginia Beach was an interesting and highly irritating one. Remember how I said I was slipping into depression last night? Well it reared it's bastardly ugly head. Fucking bastard. People's driving was irritating me and my friend tried to give me some advice on how to deal with it. It didn't help. I was in the middle of being depressed, being told just about anything does not help. We were stuck in traffic because of an accident on 64 and people just kept irritating me. My friend couldn't placate me and was actually counter productive. When I cry I don't want to be told it's fine to cry, I like rationalizing things out. I like words, I like taking the elusive and explaining it to the best of my ability. Why? It focuses me. It keeps me in control. I like being in control.

That's not to say I don't let myself go and go with the flow of things. I have been stepping out of my box, out f my comfort zone for a while, trying new things. At the festival I tried crawfish, I went back to a church for the first time in three years, I've gone out with people I don't know. I have no problem feeling joy, happiness, bliss, anger, irritation, depression. I feel, I like feeling with words. Tears do nothing. No, crying doesn't make me feel better, I hate crying, I hate it when I cry, it's like I've lost control in an unpleasant way.  Science on wikipedia gives me a few answers but not much is going on right now to really prompt this. It's irritating and I really can't stand crying.

And looking at that and knowing me I can now predict a few things. As I said yesterday I knew I was getting depressed. As I cried I said I was feeling depressed. I've written more journals in the past few weeks than I have in a while. Writing is one of the things I do when I'm depressed, I'm trying to put my feelings into words, trying to work through it. Writing about any thing that comes to mind. [Yes, I want 'any' and 'thing' to be separate words]. I've been depressed and I'm PMS-ing. I'm not as hard up about candy unless I'm pms-ing, and I want peanut butter. It was never chocolate for me, always peanut butter. At the moment it's peanut butter M&Ms, yeah there's chocolate, but it's about the peanut butter. It's usually Reese's Pieces, I know these things.

So I'm in my car, trapped in my traffic, in the Virginia heat [with A/C], and I'm crying and depressed. My friend it telling me it's fine. It's not fine. It's never fine when I cry. Very few of my friends have seen me cry and it's always when I can't put my frustrations into words.

I hate crying. Period.

I dropped him off, came home, and made a 16 oz Cosmopolitan in a water-bottle. I downed it in an hour and rolled around on my bed drunk and doing nothing on the internet until I decided to see Toy Story 3. I have been thinking about not seeing it, but in the long run I had to. It was awesome. I didn't like that the three trailer's before the movie were for 3D flicks, I saw Toy Store in classic 2D and these trailers seemed like those movies weren't going to be distributed in 2D, I assume they will be but we'll see. One of these days on my movie blog I'll put up my opinion about 3D and elaborate on my distaste for it. And if you pop over to my movie blog, you can see my opinion on making pseudo 3D/CGI animated films, as critiqued by the Smurfs movie slated for next year. I also have some ideas about photo-realism, which can fit into that blog but will get it's own, because that owl movie looks creepy (it had human eyes..wtf?!? -ovular-). But, I don't like barn owls, their faces are disturbingly flat, and the movie seems to 'star' a barn owl. Joy. Or it's a masked owl...I don't like the flatter faces. The other things I noticed in the trailers is that there are two animated movies for this summer/fall that seem like they're supposed to be sympathetic to villains. The Will Ferrel one, Mastermind or whatever (...'it's BIG for a reason'...great, penis envy jokes); and the Steve Carell one, Despicable Me (reading this plot, this seems weak. I like the beginning idea, but where it goes, not as much). I think the trailer could be made stronger if the minion characters said the word right, instead of tailoring it to kids, if they broke it down on the screen for the kid to learn the damn word and not having the minion stumble on the word then having the announcer say it correctly.

So, Toy Story 3, fantastic. It was also hella depressing. It was also hella brilliant. I loved the toys that were there in the the day care, I loved how things played out. It was all really well written an animated. I don't want to spoil much, but I do with that more had been done with Bonnie's toys, they were awesome. And great voices all around. I could have gone with the Spanish Buzz joke, it went on a bit too long for me and seemed to be a little contrived, but outside of that bit of nit picking I enjoyed everything. It was written on a kid's level, but was great for adults without it needing to be vulgar, a la Shrek.

Yeah...I came back home and wrote all this out. It's taken me a bit more than an hour. So today was a roller coaster of hell, kind of. But I feel better now that I've written..something! See, crying doesn't help, words do!

Jasmine P.

Intelligence and Knowing You're Intelligent

Disclaimer(?): I'm not trying to sounds vain here, but this is what I've experienced from having "above 'average' intelligence" in school and the education system. Long story short, it fucks you up, or it just fucks me up, we'll see.

----

So, it's pretty common knowledge now that schools and school systems test the shit out of children every year to find out who's 'gifted and talented (GT)', to find out who has the ability for more abstract thinking than their peers, so they can put them in classes to challenge and strengthen this type of thinking. This is relatively easy to do because there are a metric shit-ton of other tests going on generally if you tell a kid they have to take a test, they'll do what you ask.

Well, this is what it was like for me 15 years ago in elementary school when more parents told their kids to sit down and shut up, as opposed to now where it's always a compromise between parent and child. Also 15 years ago when it's not like children weren't respected and spoken to on their level by their teacher, but their teachers found ways to deal with them and it was closer to 1 in 15 being on Ritalin, or something else for ADD, as opposed to 1 in 5.

This isn't about that, this is about being an 'advanced thinker' and having people acknowledge that you're not 'average.'

Yes, as a kid I was proud to learn that I was 'intelligent' enough to be put into a special class for people who understood in second grade why triangles and domes are stronger than straight lines; in a class where in fourth grade I decided to use 'queer' by it's proper dictionary definition. Only odd thing about use of 'queer' is other people in my class laughing so it showed a part of my out-of-the-loop-ness that happens every now and again because I'd only ever known queer to mean something was strange or odd and not an insult to homosexual people.

But I digress. I'm saying from a young age, what...about 8 when I started in the 'advanced' classes in second grade, I was told I was different. I was told I was smarter than my peers. This information went straight to my head, giving me my inflated ego. I mean, who at the age of 8 wouldn't be all over the fact that they were 'better' than someone else? Also, to be honest, I enjoyed the GT course for a few reasons: it got me out of regular class once a week, what we did was interesting, and I was told I was better than other people. (Aside: maybe this started my superiority complex...) Third grade I went to a different elementary school where the entire class was GT, we were doing fourth grade work. Aspects of that year sucked, not the work so much as the school, not an encouraging environment so I went back to my original elementary school. I did get to raise chicks in my third grade class, an now I'm wondering what happened to the chickens and roosters. I don't know why I never did ask that question.

I went back to my primary elementary school for my last three years and went back to a 'pull out' GT program. In middle school I was in a GT program all day, every day, except this time it was called the IBMYP- the International Baccalaureate Middle Years Program. Upper level thinking, reading, writing all the time now. I've been taught MLA citation format ever since the seventh grade started. It also introduced me to who would be in most of my classes for the next six years. Seriously, my school system didn't lock down the IB program, in high school at least, but it was fairly contained. Many people took more than one IB class so it was fairly common on the first day of class to see about 1/3 of your first period class also in your second period class. I mean, my graduating class was something around 300-350 students. Of that number I think we had about 75 get the IB diploma, and another 100 or so get one or more IB certificates for the individual IB exams they passed.

Well, I've spent much of my time chronicling my education and what it was like, kind of. We all knew each other, would cheat off of each other and had been told we were special, smart for many years. We got to read multiple banned books over the years. Hell, I think at least one of my teachers tried for everything to be banned, and not just by religious groups, but by anyone. It made for interesting reading to say the least.

As I was saying earlier, sometimes being 'smart/er' sucked. I got tired of hearing "you're too smart to be failing" or "you're smart, so if you only applied yourself..." That shit never helps, it makes it worse because I'm already irritated that I wasn't passing, I don't need to be reminded that I'm failing, generally for stupid reasons. I said I was never good in a quiet environment, and my ability to focus is a bit worse when I'm in a quiet room because then I start making my own music for entertainment instead of drifting in and out of ignoring music that's playing while I do something. Hell, I've got music playing while I write this and I'm writing alright. I was never good at tests, in testing situation because it was always unnaturally quiet. It was a forced heavy silence, like an extended pregnant silence. Since it felt uncomfortable it distracted me more than noise might have.

Showing you were smart as a kid was just as bad as failing. I have been told 'You speak good English' many times. Every time I smile and say 'thank you' while inside I respond 'you don't.' Every time. I have been called articulate many times, my cousin told me I spoke like 'white people,' but he doesn't use proper grammar or pronunciation, I think he was trying to make fun of me, not to sure though. I was a reader as a kid, I still am. I actively seek out controversial, weird or interesting things to read. When I read comics I like something that questions or critiques our culture, same goes with novels and film. I also turn around and love and appreciate much lower brow humour. I enjoy The Shawshank Redemption just as much as I enjoy Tropic Thunder or The Fifth Element. Yes, Tropic Thunder does have more to it than the explosions and the silly, but that's what people see. I like explosions and boom! I like talking and critiquing, I like getting and understanding 'smart' things and enjoying 'not-smart (?)' things.

With what I've said I still haven't quite gotten to my point. The biggest flaw in being smart if knowing that you're smart. You want to be recognized as such when you succeed and when you don't you don't want people to think too hard about it because it's salt in the wound. There are things I've realized, things I know about myself from sitting and dwelling on it. I wonder, how many people sit down and think about when they stop thinking of themselves as a kid, and actually think of themselves as an adult? I'm not talking about turning 18 or 21 and saying 'I can smoke, drink, vote and die for my country; I'm an adult.' I'm talking about how many people can actually acknowledge and articulate, to some degree, why they think of themselves now as an adult. While talking with Alex this weekend we spoke about this for a minute which drunk, but we both have come to the point in our lives where we're looking less to our parents for guidance and we both want to strike out on our own and forge our own paths. In my mind stopping and attempting to put into words a gradual change like that is a very heady thing to do, thinking and dwelling and focusing.

Being smart, intelligent, gifted has been my life in the education system. No one is more annoying than I am with myself for bad grades. When I try to explain my career plans to my family I can hear the disappointment in their voices when I say I don't want to go into science anymore. That doesn't bring me down as much as it annoys me when I say I want to work for myself, drawing my own comics. They keep trying to dissuade me thinking it's childish precociousness and it's not. They think it's about money, I'll find the money, getting money's the easy part. Working the job, the career, I really want is the hard part.

Want to know another shitty part about being smart? I know why I'm depressed almost every time. Usually it's some sort of 'I don't feel loved' bullshit. Every now and again it's about my mom being dead. Knowing I'm not at a point to forgive my father for all of his bullshit, or any of it, I know I'm not ready and I know why. He won't listen, he won't try to listen. He thinks of me as a child, I'm not a child anymore. I don't think I'm a young adult anymore, I just am an adult. I think I'm finally moving out of categorization limbo, now everyone I know needs to learn this so they don't think of me as less then I am.

See, that thought process right there, I want to be respected on my level; I want to be taken seriously on my level. Not everyone is on my level. I think ultimately that's why I drifted away from people from high school. Not just that they knew the 'old' me, but that they weren't really looking to be Adults yet, they were looking to be Young Adults. I've gone back to speaking with some of them and it seems things are leveling back out, we're reaching our next maturity level.

Jasmine P.

Concepts of Beauty

My Grandmother keeps trying to get me to change what I like about myself. We're supposed to be going on a cruise this August around the Bahamas. When I spoke to her last week she told me what it was like on the boat, "you're going to forget you're on a boat, it's like being in a mall' or she'd tell me about the Governer's Ball which happens one night on the ship, and that I have to be dressed nicely for dinner. I'm like 'alright' and she continues asking me if I'm going to 'get my hair done' or wear earrings, or telling me I can't wear denims, she's old and doesn't usually say 'jeans' for whatever reason.

I try to listen, but when she asks me an honest question I decide I'm going to answer honestly:
-"Will you get my hair done in a beauty salon": no, I like my hair short and natural
-"well, will you go to a barber? How much does it cost?"; between $10-15, and no, my friend can cut my hair;
-"how do you know they can cut hair? What if you don't like it?": I'll cut it all off then let it grow back. Hair will grow back.
-"You're not going to wear a hat every day, your hair won't grow long if you wear a hat all the time.": I like my hats and I don't want my hair to grow long, Grandma.
-"Fine, you're going to wear earrings right?": No Grandma, they irritate my ears, I don't like 'em. As I kid I didn't like them.
"Well, you have to dress nice, you can't go out to eat wearing denims. When you go out with your friends you have to look nice so you can meet people."

You'd think I'd be dizzy from rolling my eyes so much. I finally get her to stop this ridiculous attempt at changing me by explaining I wear and present myself how I like. I don't like dresses or earrings so I don't wear them. I like my hats so I wear them. I have the commonsense to not go to a nice dinner in baggy messy jeans or cargos, but it's the same commonsense that keeps me from going to a messy art class in a really nice shirt. It's neither the time nor is it the place. No, I won't wear make-up, no I won't conform to society's conventions of beauty because I don't like them.

I am me, let me prove to you my life is fine, that I'm happy, when I'm not depressed - my appearance doesn't affect my depression, so I'm happy in how I look, how I dress and ow I carry myself. I have been told that things I have ae nice, that they look good, stop trying to compare me to my mother. Stop trying to compare me to other people, be happy that I'm happy.

I don't know. I could easily just say yes to everything she says I should do, but I wouldn't be happy. It's better to get this stupid non-important argument out of the way now instead of it being a stupid non-important argument in three months when sh sees me to wearing earrings, not wearing make-up, not wearing nail polish. I'll primp to my own tastes not hers. The thing is, like I said, I like how I dress, I like the clothes I wear, I don't want to 'work' that goes into being 'beautiful' and that shit all costs too much. Concealer, mascara, lipstick, blush, facial wash, zit cream, nail polish, nail polish remover, hair rollers, hair relaxant. If I had one of each of those things I'd've spent $100 easy. Why? To fit into what society considers to be beautiful. I want to buck trends and fuck convention.

It's like I questioned in this image http://dichigo.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d1kcwn9 a scribble from a few years ago, I want to go back to it again at some point, but why should I listen to the magazines, the voices outside. To hell with them, if I'm happy how I am, why do I have to listen to people out there who work so hard to change themselves and others to their own conventions and beauty, to what they think society would like. No, that's not me.

When I leave for that cruise I will have some nice shirts, I will have one or two skirts, I will also have sneakers, sandals, denim gouchos, one or two of my hats, either my FreakAngels or Israeli Paratrooper bag, at least one sketchbook, pens, pencils, two or three novels and my DS, plus other odds and ends. I'll have things to look nice in, to look nice with that I like, and I'll have the things I like that are comfortable. It's what I like

Jasmine P.

Some Thoughts on Religion

This past Thursday I kind of attempted to explain my thoughts on religion to a Christian friend of mine. It was difficult because I didn't want to sounds disrespectful of religion but at the same time I was attempting to explain, sort of, why I don't really prescribe to any "religion".

I was raised primarily attending a Protestant church, Heritage Fellowship United Church of Christ. With my father I'd attend a Catholic church, and when we visited my Grandmother if we went to church it was to Moravian church. I was an usher for my church, I participated in Sunday School and went to Bible Camp in the summer. I was an active enough member and helped with some outreach programs that were both religious and not religiously motivated.

I was raised Christian.

Since my mother died I stopped going to church, mostly because she was the one taking me. Church was also getting annoying because I was really getting tired of people's sympathy, there was more to my short life of 18 years than my mother's death. I didn't want to hear condolences. I tell people my mom 'died' because outside of that and saying she is 'deceased' it sounds like you're trying to soften the blow. The moment she died, I grew up. In some way. In many ways I was still a child, but as far as the death of someone close to me, I had handled it. I didn't need to go to God to find answers because science had provided them. A random mutation gave her lymphoma. Chemotherapy and medication ruined her body, she was dead. She's not 'lost', hasn't 'passed on', she's not 'gone' or whatever 'kind' words people use. She was dead, I accepted it and I don't like other people bringing it up. It's one thing if I were to initiate the conversation, it's another when I'd hear every time they saw me 'how are you doing?' or 'is everything okay?' I was tired of the compassion, I had things to do such as graduating and getting onto college. I mourned in my own way which involved dwelling, writing and drawing. A deity had nothing to do with it. I didn't pray, I meditated and decided it was better with her dead. She wasn't in pain, and I'd rather her be dead and a memory then a constant depressing reminder of just how fucked up death can be. Daily visits to a hospital to sit next to the body of my mother who was barely able to do more than listen was not fun. It was fucking depressing. My senior year of high school got fucked over. Things were different, difficult and easier with her dead. I can see no reason why she would have to die, but shit happens and you move on.

I can almost guarantee I'd be more fucked up and depressed if I tried to pin her death on God.

A few years later and more sciences classes that gave me more answers about the world in general than the Bible had, I decided I was Agnostic. The way I understood it, there was some sort of deity out there, maybe God, maybe gods, maybe something else. Some time later I heard of Deism, and how I understand it, some deity started everything then fucked off. I believe in science, I believe in what's tangible.

Tangible (adj); capable of being perceived especially by the sense of touch; : capable of being precisely identified or realized by the mind; capable of being appraised at an actual or approximate value.

As a kid I understood the word 'tangible' to mean something that could be seen or felt. You can't see wind but you can feel it. You can rationalize it, it affects things. Think carefully, you can't see glass or water when either is without imperfections. You see light reflected off of it, you can feel either. I understand God to be intangible. Things happen because God deems it necessary. It's blasphemous to question God. Why? The world I prefer is one where questioning things isn't just allowed, but encouraged.

With everything I have said I have yet to address my opinion of other people and their following of religion. I say 'believe what you want to'. As long as someone isn't attempting to force me to follow their beliefs, I don't care what they believe. I may think their beliefs sound a little stupid, or impractical; I may feel negatively about them, but as long as they don't try to force it on my, whatever floats their boat and finds their lost remote. If it makes you happy, so be it. If I seem happy or unhappy let me work it out myself. Don't tell me that some deity that I can't see nor truly speak to will give me the answers I desire. I can come to my own conclusion well enough.

---

In thinking about religion I have thought about what it answers and contemplated why it exists. I think that as humanoid and humanity developed and evolved they questioned the world around them. Unable to understand it they decided that there was something they couldn't see and gave it various attributes. By saying that an all powerful being, or a group of all powerful beings controlled things, early humans felt more at ease with the world deciding they knew something. In our modern society there I think some people feel at ease having an answer to life, or having a guidance for life. I think that some people like believing that there's more to life than eating, sleeping and procreation.

I have decided on my own rules. My rules for life are to over all be a good person. Don't impede others, don't let them impede you. And accomplish something. In general, accomplish something positive. Why do I think this way, I dunno. Maybe it's some residual from when I went to church. My difference is there isn't any consequence for not being a good person. When you die, you're dead. I like the afterlife shown in the movie and book What Dreams May Come. It cheered me up after my mom died because people could look how they wanted, they could be reincarnated they chose and it was like life-plus. There was no point, everything just was and people were comfortable with it. I live working towards what I want to do with my life and I'm happy this way. I'm not trying to please some deity I can't directly interact with, and I don't care to try to dispel someone else's beliefs. To adapt one of my favorite quotes "I disagree with what you believe, but I defend your right to the death to believe it." I may not care to listen or to debate, but keep on trucking.

Jasmine P.

On Having A Boyfriend, and why I Haven't Had One

On Friday I updated my Facebook status to 'man, Facebook really wants me to find a man' to which a cousin of mine, who is 8 months older than I am inquired to if I ever had a boyfriend, I replied no, he asked why, I ignored him. He somehow inferred that I was a lesbian, to be more specific, he was surprised that 'I didn't like boys' to which I explained that is not the case, and he was wrong for inferring that. I explained that I've have and have had friends whom were male, but not fulfilling the title of 'boyfriend'. I continued by saying I decided to ignore the previous question. In all honesty, I don't know why guys don't like me enough to date me. I didn't say that last sentence, he replied along the lines of seeing why I didn't have a boyfriend. I told him to enlighten me, since he apparently knows so much, which brings me to here.


I don't really care for bringing my lack of a love life to attention unless I'm ranting about it. I didn't want to really have a conversation about it with a cousin I barely know. I was also tired of his writing as if he doesn't know the fucking language. I don't really know why he writes like he doesn't know proper grammar and sentence structure, so I tend to ignore him on Facebook until he decides to say something to me, which was sadly the case this time. This isn't the worst written post from him, but he's had some that just made my brothers and myself wonder what the fuck happened when he got older.

Brenton, my cousin, is 21, has a kid, is also an uncle, and is ignorantly proud of having not finished college, because he now has a family. His sister also never finished college before having a kid. My family values education so we don't think he should be so proud of having a kid and barely attained a college education, not even a 2-year partial degree thing. He's proud of his "baby's mama" and joined the army to appease her father. I can't remember if he got married. As far as I'm concerned, my cousin has not acquired anything to be able to criticise my life nore my lackthereof of a significant other. He only has a few months over me, which isn't enough for me to really respect his opinion. I humor him, in my mind because he'll ask me the same sort of question every few months, I respond once or twice, then I ignore him. He has some obsession with my having a boyfriend. Part of me does, but I have better things to do than wait for someone else to 'make me happy'.

I've gone 21 years on my own, I've really only wanted someone for the past 6 years. I haven't hd one for a few reasons: in high school any guy I was interested in was gay or taken. In college that has persisted, but I have attempted to pursue guys which failed each time. Now I'm content on my own, it's only when I start PMS-ing that I want somebody. It gets annoying, but it doesn't last long until I'm content to being back on my own. I love me, I worship me on a daily basis and I make myself the before fucking food ever. I feel like I'm bragging, and I probably am, when I tell people the awesome things I make for myself. Cornish hens, pan-cooked boneless pork ribs, steak, pots of chicken noodle soup. I decided if I don't make awesome things for myself, why does anyone I meet from here on in deserve things I don't give myself, or those types of things.

I'm on my own and I'm well enough as is. I have plenty of friends, I have a bunch of guy friends so it works out. I get them to do things for me, I pay them back. I'm around guys in general all the time that helps me because I can't stand being around girls all the time. Hell, my roommate this year, Megan, she weirds me out a little. she has some obsession with talking to me every time I walk in, EVERY TIME! If I open the door to the bathroom she's there sometimes, wanting to talk. She'll watch me cook, we're not even talking, and she'll just watch me cook. It's kind of creepy. I don't get it. I don't have anything interesting to say, but she'll be there. I've no problem talking, I generally talk most people's ears off, but it's an odd situation that kind of makes my skin crawl. It's like she doesn't have social skills, which could be stunted actually as she is an only child, but yeah, it's weird.

I just creeped myself out, so let me get around to my reasons on why I have never had a boyfriend. First, I can be quite loud, obnoxious and brash. I talk like I'm one of the guys, I'm vulgar and can be quite abrasive. I may not seem as feminine as I really am I considere myself more or less the best damn Drag Queen ever because if I was a guy I think I'd be a drag queen, if not that then I'd be gay. Second, I'm overweight. Why would anyone want to date an overweight chick who never flaunts or oversized assets. Hell, I only draw attention to my chest when I'm making fun of it. They're like painful, natural air bags, flotation devices, I can use my chest as a shelf to hold things, which I have done before. My chest can enter a room before my feet do. I've got more, but I have a large chest that I cover up because it's not just large, it's flabby and I'm fat. Third, I have too many guy friends. I said before I kind of act like I'm one of the guys, well it doesn't help that most of my friends are guys. I prefer being around or talking to guy. My best friend is a guy, most of the fencers are guys. I assume that it either looks like I'm dating one of my guy friends, or guys think that a friend of mine will 'steal me away' during a relationship. Fourth, I value intelligence to some degree, and displaying it. It takes more than brightly colored feathers and a skillful dance to attract this mate, you have to show you have a brain that's useful for something. Yes, I love an attractive body, few people don't, I mean, who wants to look at someone they consider ugly, fuck society's perception of what's attractive. What I really like is a brain, someone I can have an intelligent conversation with, but also knows how to have a great stupid conversation. They don't have to know all the things I know, it's better if they don't and they can make something I don't get understandable. We can both bring something to the table, and of course some mutual things, but who really gets in a good relationship with someone they don't have something in common with. Too many guys run around acting like chickens with their heads cut off. Being intelligent is one thing, displaying it is another beast all together. Fifth, being able to take my bullshit. I go back and forth all the time from being sane to being ridiculous, so being able to deal with me and my bullshit is pretty much a necessary. That's a given about any sort of relationship if you really thing about it. I'm a vain son of a bitch sometimes, in that vanity is intelligence, now just physical attributes.

I realized how that last paragraph was written switched mid-way through, but ehh, it all still gets the point I was intending across, I think. I'm too ridiculous for anyone, and that's why I'm alone. I also figure that why rush into something with someone I either barely know, or don't really like. Someone will accept my ridiculous ass at some point, and then who knows. Until then I fly solo, paralleling people every now and again before I'm back on my own.


*edit*


So, the saga of idiocy continues. The pirate outfit he's talking about is simple. I was dressed in a striped red and gold tunic-ish shirt, white skirt and had a scarf in my hair for a banquet I went to. I was at my university's sport club banquet as one of the representatives for the fencing club, I realized with a saber in my hand I kind of looked like a pirate and thought the picture was fun. My cousin on the other hand thought it was lame. He says I have an attitude because I act like I was raised educated, I'm sorry* if acting like I have common sense is offensive to you, but fuck off. Really. What the fuck does he mean by presentable? Wearing hoochie skirts and low cut shirt? Wearing what's popular? Fat people don't look good in that shit, and it's shit. Fuck fads, I work with clay twice a week and various drawing supplies the rest of the week. I don't have time for that shit I'm function over fashion. I don't consider 'feminine' clothing to be all that functional, which is why I stray away from it usually. But, when I need to dress nicer than I normally do, I have nicer things, but if I know I'll be using something that stains and messes up good clothing why should I wear it? He needs to stop focusing on my life and get a job and an education and better himself. He's not from skid-row, he's from a damn suburb of Cleveland, OH, an upper-middle class suburb at that. ['Skid Row' Little Shop of Horrors Watch the first 30 seconds]. Learning how to type properly he can do from home. Trying to decipher his last message I realized it's all one sentence with no period at the end. My ten year old sister can write better than him, and she's a gat damn kid 12 years his junior.

*Edit 2* My retarded cousin has shown a lack of reading comprehension and straight up ignorance. I can't talk to this fool. I'd rather be poor and fucking homeless than to go to him with his normal like of 'girls n cash n cars'. I'm about to drop him from facebook. He does nothing positive for me and my decided upon life style.


Jasmine P.

* Not sorry in the least.

A Little Catching Up and A Few Random Thoughts

I will do a proper birthday write up, I pretty much usually do, but friggin' Norfolk mail didn't deliver yesterday, so I'll see what I get today, and then there's chatting with the Ficus and figuring out if he's visiting, or if our revelry for me being old enough to purchase alcohol will have to wait. It would be lame for it to be delayed for another two weeks because until Thanksgiving.

But onto my thoughts. I haven't written not really, since before I was sick. I wrote while I was sick, but that only barely counts. On a positive side, I seriously have not been depressed since I had my kidney infection. Before I was writing my usual 'oh woah is me! Nobody loves me, I have no body I'm oh so fucking alone' type of crap because that's what it's always about. Then I was sick, and I've been pretty alright. I've been doodlin' and I do have a whole mess of sketches in my personal sketchbook and my class sketch book to scan one of these days. It'll be 'fun' sitting in Webb scanning 11x14" sheets of paper covered in silly pencil sketches, and some 'figure studies'. I put apostrophes around that because I was never looking at people, I imagined the figure I wanted to draw.

So, I saw my school's performance of Dracula on Saturday night, the last night of the show. It was pretty entertaining. I did enjoy the show, then I masochistically decided to help strike the set. I say masochistically because three days later my back, neck and arms are a little sore. But I plan on helping again in the future. Striking is fun. Best quote from the night was one of the prop masters found a black pump, just one shoe. I called it 'Cinderella's Goth Slipper' he called it 'Cinderellas Goth Fuck-Me Pump' me and two or three other people who heard it paused, then laughed. Pretty funny. Then after strike when the actors and crew got to eat, I was chatting with I think the lighting master/teacher whatever, and he remembered me from striking the Rocky Horror set from two years ago. Hell, I think I wrote up striking Rocky, but being remembered from two years ago from a more or less one off meeting is always pretty interesting.

So, I had this thought. I checked out this awesome photo that Paulo Coelho took when he went ot Kazakhstan back in 2005 and he was with some members of the village [i think he said village] who were out falcon hunting. My thoughts on this aren't on the hunting, though, the falcon was huge and a gorgeous animal. It was that he was wearing all black. It made me think that there's a weird dichotomy with wearing black. Depending on the type of black clothing you wear you can either look distinguished, you can look elegant, or you can look like you're emo, goth or depressed. I was just thinking that, it's kind of interesting. I know that depending on how anything is worn it can change how people will perceive the wearer. Black is just such a pivitol color it seems at time that the thought stood out the most to me when I saw that photo. Thinking about it, just about any time someone wants to dress up and look good, they wear black. Why is black the color of distinction? It has been considered slimming, and ever year something come out as 'the new black' but black still reigns. Nothing else lasts for more than a season as the color to wear before black is back. Or, they'll both be big together. My question on this point all together is, why black? But I also like rich darker colors. Wine or burgundy reds, royal blue and the like. The rich dark colors are some of my favorites. They have been. In the right type of suit with the right accents these color can work, or as accents with the black.

I'm not too sure where my thoughts on color are going, but it did start from my question of 'why black' after thinking about how it works for two types of people that society might not necessarily consider all that similar at face value.

Jasmine P.

Crossroads: Built to Help, Only Impede

I was originally going to do a write up of the past week I spent in Wisconsin, but this seemed to be a bit more pertinent. I still want to write up about the week before I forget. That's why Twitter's nice, I wrote some stuff up there most days, so I can review it and remind myself what I did and what to write about. But for now, less about last week and more about me.

I've in a funk, again. I don't know what to do to break it. I've spent the past few days since returning to Norfolk watching Wonderfalls and Pushing Daisies, which I guess I can include in my review blog. But not right now. I'm at that annoying impasse where I don't know what I want to do. Not with my education and not with tomorrow. I can't draw, so write I must.

I've recently fallen in love with writing things by hand. I hand wrote a note to a woman from New York, more to be expounded upon in the SWS/Wisconsin journal. But I kind of want to write more people letters. One to Scott, another to Ralph...that's it. Yeah, so two letters. There's the personal touch of recieving mail, and writing them. They take time, and even once the idea is written, there's writing a presentable form of the letter.

Well, let's start somewhere. Is It Okay If I Call You Mine? written and sung by Paul McCrane. Ironic time to play this song. This is kind of how I feel about Paul, but also at the moment, men in general. Kind of. I mean, first there is my interest in someone who hasn't called me back. I fear his phone is lost or something. Then there's Phillip, who's interest in my was professed by two other people in drunken stupor. I doubt they remember telling me this, but a large part of me doesn't want to inquire about it, but if someone cares, why not try for something. Then there's Beau, and that one I assume is all in my head. He's a cutie, and I could have sworn just last week when I friended him on facebook he was in a relationship with someone, but that's beside the point. Interest in him came from his drunken excitement in seeing me. Yeah, prefixed by drunken, so who knows. I have also decided that the actors Lee Pace and Tyrone Lietso. Bt incrredible cute and adorable. I see Paul is Pace's performace from PD, which makes me think he's still quite in the running for my heart for things more serous, but at the same time, I haven't seen the man/boy in a month! A month! He hasn't answered his phone or anything. I'm sitting in the middle of a road of attention, attraction and affection [alliterative a...] and not a peep. I tied calling about thirty minutes ago. Maybe he'll call. I hope so. Hell, I want the simplicity of a kiss. I want and crave contact. So many people, so close and yet oh so terribly far.

Like aways, I know what I want, but differently, I have potential venues, but won't go for any of them. I was fine, when I almost had someone, now? Ha! I'm back to just plain needing someone. I need something to guide my attention, to help motivate me. For whatever reason I've actually made the Fourth of July into something important and want someone to spend the night with. I normally couldn't give a rat's ass for the damn day, but apparently in my vulnerable state I want someone. Last week I was distracted, as with the week before, but now, it's me and only me.

This is an island that sucks. Maybe someone will actually call. The Ficus might, but that's not as pressing to me as pretty much anyone else calling. I want attention. I want to be loved. I want to be romantically loved. Hell, I know plenty of people on this stupid orb love me, platonically, but I want a romantic relationship. Pining, I'm pining away for most anything.

Aside from my heart, I was feeling a change of pace for a short period f time and going back to science for a degree, but now I'm feeling art again. I'm also feeling not earning a degree and just striking out on my own. Dorien and Miguel keep saying how hard it is, but they haven't done that. They both almost got away, then went crawling back home. I'm not doing that. Love or not, I'm getting out of this crummy state. I'm getting away where all the disturbed girls are. My papa never put his ping-ping in my po-po, but there is something rotten in the Denver of Virginia. And the Denmark too.

Apparenlty, I've stopping caring about who might stumble upon this piece of privacy, and that's well enough. It's here for someone to read, and not just for me to write. I dunno, maybe I'll escape the easiest way I know how, into the tombs of a new book. Well, new, old, re-read, or something I left to be enjoyed at a later date. I dunno, maybe I'm a little inspired from eading the writings of Jonathan Ames who had his writings published, and they were of a varying private nature, personal if nothing else. Maybe it's better to toss life out to the void of it's reality and see who stops and inspects. Maybe something good will come out of it. With my luck, nothing will, but that's also just as well. I always want someone to read these, but at the same time, I seriously want no one to read them.

Jasmine P.

Smith & Movies

Well, I watched Chasing Amy once more and it put me in a mood. The type of mood where I had ot take some time before getting into anything else, but in that thought process I've decided to attempt to discuss just how I think Mr. Kevin Smith's movies have affected me. Why I like them and such. This is hopefully different from what I wrote before, but just as necessary for me.

Let's go!

Clerks: The writing was highly impressive. I liked the rapport between the characters. I like how there are distinct beats to his movies. They start showing an any person going about their business before the story gets going, but these characters are very human which makes relating to them that much easier. Clerks was important because it was a nice way to jump into the crew and the world, from the beginning.

Mallrats: Jason Lee. I'll say it here, I find younger Lee to be adorable beyond belief. I accept my mini crush on him. Aside form Lee, seeing Smith put Clerks in a mall, yes, but seeing how things changed from his absolute control to studio control and what he learned [i learned via commentary] was fine too. I've said this before, but Rats can't fail at making me laugh. It's light hearted and fun to watch. I can watch it repeatedly because of how much happens from Brodie and TS being dumped, to Jay and Bob's attempts to wreck the stage, and on to the conclusion of the movie. So much happens, and Less is just to brilliant in it that I can love it immensely every time I watch it.

Chasing Amy: just as Rats was a light hearted affair, Amy is the emotional rollercoaster. So much happens from the beginning of the movie to the end that I get wrapped up in it and sucked into the character's emotions as everything happens. I can get to such a depressed low from watching this movie. I mean, at the conclusion there's no defined 'happy ending' it ends. The characters have moved on. I would love to see a sequel to it where Banky accept his homosexuality or whatever, to see what Holden is up to, aside from drawing and writing the comic Chasing Amy, and to see what Alyssa is up to and how they each grew and will interact with one another after accepting the conclusion to the events in the lives in this movie. And any excuse to see Hooper X again, man, great side character.

Dogma: This movie is interesting seeing as how it's about Smith's relationship with religion and his opinion of it. I find it enjoyable for all the characters, and how slender and pretty Jason Lee is here, and clean shaven. Mmm, Lee. But to the movie, the growth of the characters is nice to see. I like watching it because of the journey, and in the scope of Smith's films it's a stretch because almost constantly there are more than two characters interacting on screen. It was a learning progression for him to have os many characters together at once. Nice to see. For me, I have my own questions for religion, but that's for another day. it's a heavy topic, but so few people share their relationship with religion as openly as he did in that movie, it's special in that way.

Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back: The movie to end all of the Askweniverse...but didn't. This was a very cartoony movie, out of all of them this had the most motion. Another trip movie with a varied cast, but at it's core, just Jay and Bob. It was an experiment in a way, very slapstick which makes it stand out. It's one of those movies that you don't need to watch too many time. It's not heavy, not ever. It's the lightest of all the movies, but it is different.

Jersey Girl: His first foray out of the Askewniverse. I liked the movie becuase it was all about a father having to grow up and take care of his child. It was his response to having a daughter and having to truely be responsible for something. I thuroughly enjoyed the movie for the range of emotions that happen, but the ultimate happy ending when Affleck's character understands that he doens't need New York to be happy, but to be home. His understanding that he wanted what was best for his daughter more than what he thought was best for him was nice and important to see. It makes me smile.

Clerks II: This, in a way, is how the Askweniverse truely needed to be closed out. It needed to end with Dante and Randal, and yeah, Kevin did say he pictured everything wrapping up in the Quick Stop so that's how it happened best. This movie had it's deep moments with Dante realizing who he really loved and why he loved Jersey. His extended family made it special and was what he really wanted out of his life. It had the over the top cartoony elements, like the dance number, but it was entertaining. From the first movie to the last there is the full gamut of emotions of drama and serious to slapstick and comedy. Maybe one day he'll venture to comedic mystery...

Zack and Miri Make A Porno: This movie was my first Smith Flick and this is where the writing frist and truly impressed me. The characters were fun to watch, and seeing Mewsey grow up from being Jay to being Lester, seeing him clean up and everything was kind of cool. Seeing Smith really get out of Jersey in spirit too, and not to travel was different. These new characters were interesting, and for a romantic comedy, one of the few I truely liked. It wasn't a 'love at first sight' type of thing, since Zack and Miri knew each other and their boundries were well established, it was interesting to see them pushing on their own boundries. How they resisted, but moved past their trepidation.

All these movies have been interesting. This is partially me understanding of some of the whys for everything that happens in the movies for the characters and behind the lense. I love that DP David Klein came back for CII to stay. Friendships make me happy. People who know each other better than anyone else know them. These movies make me want write, I want to go back to my characters I created oh so many years ago and re-work them. I want to make my characters better then show them off to the world. This is a wonder story, we need more stories of people making their life their own and going for it. That's what I'm slowing working towards, making my life my own. Moving out of the house, finishing off my education and getting on with what I need for me to be happy, which is venturing off on my own to live as an adult.

This rant barely had any guidence, but still needed to be writting. I'm glad I took the time to write this. It jumped from point to point and doesn't seem like it accomplished what I wrote it to accomplish, but it has. It seriously has. I need an emote or something for a laid back smirk, the smile of someone who accepts their life at the moment, and I think I should be sleeping soon. God night world, let's rock together tomorrow.

Jasmine P.

Self-loathing

Its been a long time since I outright hated myself or how I acted. Today was one of those days, one of those times. While I was out Elizabeth called to tell me she was too afraid to move off campus. I have made my resolution that I'm not living on campus anymore. I want to move on, but I was hoping to live with her. My motivation is I want to live with my own rules and not with people I disliked. I'm tired of having to share my living space with people I barely know and don't like, so I guess it works out. I mean, I've know for a long time that the only person I can truly rely on is myself, so I guess it's down to me a wee bit sooner than I thought, but it's what I want. I was a little annoyed and stress. I was annoyed because Elizabeth is so afraid of moving on. I'm trying to break my tethers, I'm fighting to be independent. I'm trying to grow up and she's too afraid of the outside world to be able to make the jump.

I'm a resolute person, I want to as close to the final say in my life as possible. She's not ready for that type of responsibility, I'm ready to try, to prove to the world that I'm an adult in my own right, or to try for it. She can't do that, I was upset that my friend whom I thought could make the trip into proving to the world that she was an adult too was unable to do it. I showed I was upset the way I always have. I cried. I sat in a chair in the middle of a Uni of Mary&Wash gym crying, I tried to sink into music, but I had friends to distract me which was both good and bad. I waxed on it a bit and explained how I was feeling, slightly betrayed, but how I need to move on. Living on campus is holding me back and I need more in my life that I'm in control of, so it's time for me to move on.

So, not too long after I've barely picked up the pieces of me and put myself back together and was almost back to being the strong Jasmine that I show the world I was broken by something as stupid as mushrooms being on my burger at Cheeburger Cheeburger. Nothing tastes as good when you're upset, and I was still upset for another ten minutes. I hated myself. Seriously. To a degree, I hated myself. I hate it when I cry and when I can't get back into control of myself.

Eventually when we were just about done I had calmed myself down, then I spent about ten minutes alone in the Barnes and Noble. I felt much better, then I had to apologize to Ian and AJ because I didn't like how I had acted, but I never like it when I cry especially not when I don't have the chance to sit on my own and get my mind straight. Now, a few hours past, and having written it out and apologized to everyone, except Tristan mostly because I don't know him on facebook, I'm feeling better. I'm back in control of my emotions and I think I can handle things now.

I can nw find a place of my own and be happy. A nice one person apartment, not in some fucking house, but a real apartment, and I'll make my own rules and I'll be happy. Things will be better for me, because I declared it how. Fucking seriously.

Jasmine P.

He Plays For the Other Team Pt 2

This is just one giant and epic story as is, but at the same time, I don't need it all up there taking my entire page over, so here are the last two chapters as written 5 years ago. Chapters 1 and 2 can be found here. There, you can read my whole overly long and kind of unnecessary preamble to the story. a PWP where it got a plot and never any real porn...Yeah, if I'd ever gotten to the sex it totally would have been validated, I mean, ...well, read it and maybe one of these days I'll explain it to you. :)

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He Plays for the Other Team
DAISUKE ICHIGO

:Summary: The trials and tribulation of two college students as hey find out more about their true selves. Ronnie, the younger girlie-boy and Brian the older tan skinned mystery, together they learn a lot about themselves. (I suck as summaries, please don't hate?)


Moving In


While Brian slept in his arms, Ronnie thought back over the beginning of the year, trying to remember if anything like this had happened before. Absent mindedly petting Brian's hair, Ronnie shifted through the memories. Remembering non, he carefully climbed out of the bed and went into the common room to see if anybody else was there.

Looking at the couch, Ronnie saw Liam and Pailu playing some fighting game while Harold, Kirk's roommate, cheered Pailu on. Going over to the couch, Ronnie flopped down to watch the game, absentmindedly paying attention after saying good morning to the other boys. Letting his worried mind wander, hoping that would relieve it of the stress it had felt, he remembered the first day he had walked into Duzel Hall.



Ronnie stood in the elevator carrying one suit case and pushing a box with some manuscripts on the ground. On the fourth floor, he kicked the box off and followed it to cell blue. Pressing his thumb against the ID pad next to the door, Brian waited while it scanned the print, before admitting him to the cell. The door opened revealing a large living room, with light blue walls. There was a couch and television on the left , and a small kitchen area to their right. There were four doors spread out around walls of the room, each with a number painted on the blue, in white paiLookLooking at his assignment card, Ronnie headed to the door labeled with a three.

The room Ronnie entered had two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, the head boards facing opposite walls. There were two desks, one by the window, the other by the door, and a large double closet that had a divider in the middle to separate the roommates clothes. Theor wor was wooden planked, and it had appeared that no one had claimed either side of the room yet, making Ronnie the first person there. Ronnie decided that he wanted the bed on the left side and dropped his stuff on that band and the desk by the window. Heading back down stairs via elevator, Ronnie made tow more trips in which he brought up his computer, a lap top, a boom box for his mp3s, more clothes for the cool northern us fall, and some posters that one of his friends had made of his characters.

Heading back down stairs one more time, Ronnie brought up one last bag of clothes and his television, even though there was one in the common room, he wanted one in his room so he could watch what he wanted without bothering to many people. On his way inside, he saw a spiky brown haired boy getting on the elevator with another brown haired boy, this one's hair was longer, and e was taller then Ronnie, but not my much.

Seeing the doors to the elevator about to close, he called out, "Hey, wait, please hold the elevator." The shorter brown haired boy pushed the 'door open' button for him, as he finished crossing the room. In the elevator Ronnie put his television on the floor, but kept his duffel bag shouldered. As the doors closed he looked both boys over saying. "Thank you for holding the door."

"No problem, which floor are you on?e tae taller boy asked as the elevator began to move.

"Four, I'm in blue, I've already been up a few times," Ronnie said directing his reply toward the taller boy, his eyes more focused on the shorter one with the spiky hair, "but I didn't wan to wait for the other elevator, these things are so fucking slow." Committing both faces to memory, Ronnie then introduced himself to them, "I'm Ronald Kir III, but most people call me Ronnie.

"I'm Brian and this is Damien, the RA." The spiky haired oy said extending his had for the other boy to shake. "I'm also in cell blue."

"Nice to meet you, Ronnieamieamien said also shaking hands in greeting.

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, and Ronnie led Damien and Brian to blue, vaguely hoping that Brian would be in his room. He continued on two dorm three while Damien hung back by the door with Brian as they figured out which room to take his stuff.

"Room three," Ronnie heard Brian say as he left the room to volunteer to help Brian with the rest of his stuff.

"Cool, were roommates," Ronnie said as he opened the door to their room.

Damien put Brian's computer on the desk nearest to the door, seeing that Ronnie had claimed the other one already, "See ya guys, I gotta go."

"Bye, tanks for helping," Brian said dropping CDs on the floor by the desk. "Hey, Ronnie, would you mind helping me bring the rest of my stuff up here?"

"Sure, no problem," he replied hiding his glee about sharing his room with such a cutie. "It's not going to take me long to unpack, so okay." He said as if weighing his options. "So, how old are you? When's your birthday?" he asked once they were on the elevator, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

"May, 30th, I'm 20 right now," Brian replied as they rode back down the elevator. "You?"

"November 17th, I'm turning 20," Ronnie replied as they reached the ground floor and went to where Brian had left his car.

At the car the boys picked up more bags before they headed back up to their dorms. It took them three more trips to get the rest of Brian's stuff. On their last trip up stairs they passed another boy lugging three heavy bags to their dorm building.

"Hey, you," Ronnie called slinging shifting his box of what looked to be Brian's handwritten stories to resettle it more balanced, "do you need some help?"

"Me?" the short black haired boy asked turning to who who wasstiostioning him. "Nah, I'm fine, but I might need some getting in." he said blushing sheepishly.

"That's alright," Brian said balancing his box in one hand to press the ID pad. "Which r arr are you on?" the three walked into the dormitory.

"I'm on two, cell green, dorm 1," he replied heaving as he leaned against the elevator wall. "I'm Pailu Frank, most people call me Pai."

"Hi Pai, this is Brian and I'm Ronnie," he said indicating to each of them. "We're roommates on four, cell blue, dorm 3."

"I'll have to come up sometime," Pailu said as the elevator stopped on his floor. "Good luck this year," he waved as he dragged his stuff off the elevator, down a green hallway.

As the doors closed Ronnie sighed thinking about how hard his junior year was going to be. "So, I meant to ask this sooner, what's your major? It looks to be writing, but I could be wrong."

"I'm a screen and stage writer." Brian said tapping the box Ronnie had set at his feet. "In that box are some of my older plays." Brian smiled, "I used to be big, back in the day in that foreign place called high school. My major is in English, play-write to be exact, but I'm hoping to get my name in lights, somewhere. I plan on traveling if I don't do any good in the States." The elevator stopped on four, and they walked to blue. "What's you major?"

"I'm majoring in writing, novels not plays, and my minor is in acting." He replied as they walked into their common room only to find three other boys on the couch. "Yo," Ronnie waved.

"Hey, I'm Liam, Liam Elda." A tall lanky looking fellow said straightening from leaning over the back of the couch. Liam wore his light brown hair cut short, red on its tips as it spiked away in the back. "I'm in yellow, dorm 4, I was helping Mickey here, he's in dorm 1."

"Yo, I'm Michael Dower, like Liam said, I'm in 1." Michael was sitting on the couch, a box in his lap with controllers to a PS2 and game jewel cases. "Which rooms are you in?"

"Son of a bitch," a fairly high for guy's voice erupted from behind the television. A small, mousy frame emerged, his brown hair grayed with dust, two electronic cords in his hands. Looking at Ronnie and Brian he started blushing in embarrassment. "Sorry about the out burst, I'm Kirk, Kirk Magyar. Dorm 4, my roommate isn't here yet, but it's early, only 2," extending his hand, both Brian and Ronnie accepted introducing themselves.

Ditching Brian's stuff in their dorm, the boys went back out to the common room to see if they could help Kirk, Michael and Liam. Ronnie flopped into the comfortable sagging couch on Michaels right side, Brian on his left. "Hey, Mousy, Kirk, do you need any help?" Ronnie called correcting himself before Kirk could pull himself from the tangle of cords to glare at him.

Kirk huffed with exasperation, "I'm fine, but you'd think an electronic major could put together a simple video game system, it's like damn." Dropping the wires, Kirk backed up from his place behind the television, "Ronnie, Brian, can either of you put together a PS2?"

"I had one," Brian said getting backup and going behind the TV. "Somebody, turn on the TV and change the TV input," he ordered while he fiddled with the cords Kirk had dropped in disgust. Ronnie cut on the machine and switched the video receiver to input. The screen automatically changed to a dark picture with a floating memory card and game CD. "There, that was simple enough."

"Fuck you," Kirk said growling as he stalked off toward his room.

"Don't mind him, he's just stressed because of moving in and the fact that he had to drive over half the States just to get to Ishtar University," Michael explained as Kirks door closed with a mechanical whirl.

"So, anyone else hungry enough to eat the pissy one?" Ronnie said, relieving the room of the tension that Kirk's explosion and moving in had caused.

"I'm game," Liam said as he headed toward the door out of blue, "just let me get my 'Pissy Bitch Killing' sword."

The three boys laughed as they followed Liam to his dorm in yellow on the other side of their floor. The yellow dorm looked just like the blue one, except this one was covered in yellow paint. The common room also had a television, there was an X-Box plugged in underneath it. On the yellow doors the numbers were painted on in black, white wouldn't have been seen. Liam went to his room while the other three just stood by the door and waited

"It's like being a banana," Ronnie said gray eyes wide open in shock as he stopped in his tracks.

"Scary, I'm out," Brian said backing up before Liam started back out from his room.

"What's wrong with the three of you?" Liam asked, giving his new friends an odd look as he crossed the common room to leave.

"Your dorm is scary as a bitch," Michael said as he tried to calm his face.

"Pussy," Liam said under his breath as he pulled the three stunned boys out of his common dorm and back toward the elevators. "Let's just get some food, there's pizza place two blocks over that I went to a few time last year."

The other three boys fell out of their stupors as the thought of food passed through their minds, reminding them why they'd left the safety of their cell and saw the fright of Liam's. On the elevator, all three boys form blue let out breaths so hard, Liam's hair moved with the breeze.

"Damn you guys are pussies," he said running his hands through his hair, putting it back in place.

"Shut up, Liam," Ronnie said smoothing his hair as the door opened on the second floor, Pailu came entered the elevator, totting two other boys, also from green. They were also going out to lunch, so they decided to go in a big group and then return to Duzel Hall to eat.

"Hey, Sara, Kelly, Lynn," Ronnie waved as a car full of girls slowed o drive with them. "What's up?"

"Sup Ron?" a blonde girl asked, she was in the shot gun seat. "Nothing, just out for food."

"So are we, wanna come back to Duzel with us?" Liam asked leaning against the car as it stopped.

"You guys having a party or something like that?" a brunette asked rolling down her window.

"More the 'something like that' Lynn," Ronnie said laughing, "so, you girls coming?"

"Yeah, we'll be there," Lynn replied as the car started rolling forward. "We're gonna pick up a few more friends first."

"Cool, one of us'll be waiting for you, in about ten minutes, iight," Ronnie said waving as they drove off.

"So, Mr. Smooth, who were they?" Brian asked elbowing Ronnie as the boys made it to the pizza place.

"Some friends, I was in a small play outside of school with Sara, the blonde one." He replied shrugging it off as the others made joke about his answer. "Lynn and Kelly were at the cast party, they were a part of the crew, that's all"

"Yeah, right the crew," the other boys joked infuriating Ronnie as they finally got to the pizza parlor.

"Whatever," Ronnie said brushing them off again as they waited for their order.

In the parlor, Liam went up to the counter and ordered three supreme pizzas, three pepperoni and three cheese pizzas for everybody to eat before he sent Pailu and Vic to the store next door to get drinks.

On the way back, Brian volunteered to take the girls up to blue but the girls were already there, waiting outside with two other girls who were introduced as Jane and Kel, a red head and a brunette with green tips. The whole group piled into both elevators and went up to blue, where Kirk was angrily pounding away at his collerller in a fighting game. Looking up to see what had made all the noise, Kirk saw the group of boys and a few sparse girls come in with food and drinks and gave up on the game and joined the fun.

Ronnie sat on the bar counter near the kitchen while Liam mixed drinks for everybody. While the night wore on, Damien and his girlfriend passed through, they played a few games and chatted with most the students there. Other people came and left, Pailu left around nine with on the the girls that Sara and Lynn had picked up for the time being.

Around one in the morning, Brian and Ronnie were elected by everybody else to buy more food and drinks, so they left, their pockets full of monetary donations to pay for whatever they bought.

Ronnie lead the way, once they were outside, to his blue-black 2152 Liger, one 5 years old, and it still ran like it was knew. Ronnie looked over at Brian who sighed like he was an old, stressed out man, concerned he nudged him, "Hey, Brian, what's wrong?"

"Hnn?" Brian asked looking at Ronnie through half lidded eyes, "Nothing, just a little tired from moving in, staying up till one drinkin', y'know."

"I know just what you mean," Ronnie said running his hand through his free hair as they waited at a red light in silence. "Hey, can you go into the glove compartment to find me something to tie up my hair?" he asked as the light turned green and he pulled away.

"No prob," Brian replied digging through the glove box looking for a ribbon or scrunchie for his friend. "Found one," he said sitting up as Ronnie pulled into a 24hour grocer.

"Thanks dude," he replied pulling most of his dark hair out of his eyes with the scrunchie Brian had found. "Lets go, maybe we can get them drunk and they'll pass out soon."

"Don't life my spirits, you cruel, cruel boy," Brian joked as they started filling a shopping cart with chips, beer, and frozen pizzas. Paying for their food, the two returned to see what kind of mess their common room was in.

Back in the common room the boys saw thn thn their twenty minutes gone, the group had mysteriously grown. There were another four girls there, and the other three boys from a different Hall altogether who hadn't been there earlier in the day.

"Well, I guess our dreams of getting any sleep tonight have been dashed against the windshield of Liam's 'Pissy Bitch' killing sword'" Ronnie said as he dropped his bags on the trash littered counter.

"I have one question about your statement," Brian said opening the last cold drink from the fridge as he sat down next to Ronnie.

"And that is..." Ronnie prompted, looking across the group waving at people who's attention stopped on him.

"Which one of us is the 'pissy' one and the 'bitchy' one?"

"I think you're the pissy one just for asking that dumbass question, dumbass." Ronnie replied opening one of the beers they'd just bought, taking a long swig before looking at Brian. Thank god I'm a good drunk he thought, glad his secret was safe. "Later boy, I'm gonna see who's winning the game," he said as he slid off his chair and moved through the crowd like somebody practiced at it. Saying hi to people he knew, Ronnie dropped to the floor in time to catch the controller as whoever had just lost threw it up for grabs. Looking to see who his opponent would be, Ronnie settled in and fought, barely winning the best 2 out of three as the party continued for hours.



"Hey, Ronnie, you've been asleep for a couple of hours, why don't you go back and check on Brian," Kirk said kicking Ronnie lightly in the shin. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Ronnie pulled himself up and returned to his bedroom to see how his sick roommate was fairing. Pulling his hair out of the tight bond his scrunchie had created, Ronnie pressed the Id pad and the door lifted, admitting him in.

Letting his eyes focus to the darkness of the room after the door closed, Ronnie looked toward the clock the bright numbers showed him that it was just about seven in the evening. Sighing, thinking that Brian had slept long enough, Ronnie slid back into the bed and lifted Brian so that is head rested in Ronnie's lap.

"So, do you think you've slept long enough?" Ronnie asked, running his hair falling over both shoulders, framing his face. Gently pressing his palm against Brian's forehead, Ronnie started to get up, saying, "Your fevers gone down, but I don't thin's g's gone just yet. I'll call Ryan and have him make some soup for you, that should help.

"Neh," Brian said reaching out and grabbing the bottom of Ronnie's shirt so keep the younger boy from leaving. "Don't go, stay with me."

Ronnie's gray eyes looked into Brian's green eyes, seeing the longing for comfort there, and returned to the bed, he sat back down on the bed and held his friend, petting his head again, like he had before. Brian relaxed back against Ronnie again, breathing deeply again, his eyes wandering around the room, resting on the clock for a moment, before looking back up at Ronnie's face.

Ronnie, closed his eyes, still petting Brian's hair when he felt his roommates hand land on hi cheek startling him. Opening his eyes, Ronnie saw something there, he saw complete love and trust in his eyes. Bending, Ronnie pressed his lips over brains, but he kept his eyes closed, unsure of what Brian would do, until Brian gently pressed back. Ronnie hugged Brian close before letting him fall asleep again, comforted and protected in his lap.



Ohh, that was, tedious. Okay, I thank all of you for not complaining that this chapter was almost an exact copy of the last, because, it basically was, but after this, all new info will be provided! Soon I will post what makes this story worthy of being posted on this site, but I'll probably have to change the M/M listing at the beginning and stuff, that's going elsewhere in my head, and I wasn't all to sure what to put there in the first place. Thanks for reading and I'll be posting again soon, hopefully.

Sorry, but after this chapter, my postings may take longer because I'm going back to school. This chapter and parts of four were written during the summer, so I posted more or less often. I will try to post something like once every other week, so please forgive if you don't see any new updates from me to often. It's not that I'm not working, it's just that I don't have the time to sit and type for hours.
D. Ichigo

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Chapter 4

HE PLAYS FOR THE OTHER TEAM
DAISUKE ICHIGO

:Summary: The trials and tribulation of two college students as hey find out more about their true selves. Ronnie, the younger girlie-boy and Brian the older tan skinned mystery, together they learn a lot about themselves. (I suck as summaries, please don't hate?)

Two last disclaimers, I apologize for keeping you away from the reading this long. I don't own 'Anxiety" this was written by the Black Eyed Peas and I'm not making any money off of using this song, it just seemed so perfect for then. it's on Elephunk, track 12 for those of you who want to hear it. rem remember, no hate because I don't own it. I (also) don't own 'Where is the Love' either. Just borrowing it. Only own one copy of the CD it's on. It just spoke out, and I can't think of anything else to put in here that wouldn't be complete garbage. Or, it would be good, I just don't have the lyrics or the time to find the lyrics for said song.

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PONDERINGS
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Sunday morning Brian woke up feeling much better then he had all weekend. He also awoke to the feeling of strong, not so female arms wrapped around him, hugging him against a flat, not very female feeling chest, that also felt quite bare, just like his. Opening his eyes, Brian saw the blinds pulled down and closed against the weak morning sun, and he saw his bed, un-slept in across the rug of his dorm room.

Fighting to stay calm, he struggled to remember why he was in Ronnie's bed, and not his own, and then he remembered he had been sick the day before and spent most the day asleep in Ronnie's bed. Blinking, he wondered why Ronnie just hadn't slept in his own bed, instead of sharing the thin twin bed with him, and he wondered why Ronnie just hadn't put him into his own bed.

Sighing at all the unknown answers floating around his head, Brian tried to gently move Ronnie's arms so he could get up, his bladder painfully full, but just as he pushed against Ronnie's arms, he felt Ronnie hold him closer, mumbling something that Brian couldn't hear.

Rolling over, Brian looked at his red headed roommate, feeling somewhat drawn to the clear skin so near his own. Fighting the urge to pat his face, Brian thought [What the hell? Why in hells name am I trying to pat his face? I'm straight, not a queer, so why am I attracted to him?] Studying Ronnie's face, Brian's thoughts continued to race. [I thought he already had a boyfriend, so why are we sharing a bed?] Brian felt the grip on his slender waist loosed a bit and rolled over, his face warm from its odd thoughts. [Would it be so bad if I did love him or if he loved me? He is nice, tall, makes me laugh. He sure as hell has taken care of my sad ass often enough these few months, considering I had mono in September, strep in early October, and I had a head cold around Halloween, leaving me bed ridden with fever and coughs. Because I couldn't leave, every time he was nice enough to go and get my homework, so where does that leave us?]

Forgetting about his bladder, Brian continued thinking, [I would be much worse off if Ronnie wasn't so caring and nice. He's helped me develop my ideas for some of my English writings, and there was that time I dragged him out to 'Escape' and he saved me from that chick's deranged boyfriend, I woulda been long gone if I had to go up against him.] Brian thought laughing a little, causing Ronnie to move from the slight movement. After the younger boy stopped, Brian let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding and his thoughts continued. [But he's a boy, I can't date a non-girl, it's just not right, it's makes me wussy for turning away from the sweet touches and feelings of the female flesh.] Turning this thought over in his mind, Brian felt Ronnie's arm drop from him when Ronnie rolled over, now facing his wall, and not the open area of the room. Seeing his opportunity, Brian slid out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom still wondering if he was gay or not.

After finishing and washing his hands, the bare chested Brian walked out to the common room, feeling better, but his mind still ticking, rolling and wondering about how wrong it was to love Ronnie.

"Morning, Brian," a voice from the couch said, causing Brian to look to his left. "Feeling better?"

"Much, thanks, Adrian," Brian said running his hand through his spiky brown hair.

"That's good, considering how hard Ronnie tried to help you," Kirk said as he shuffled though the various game cases, looking for something to play. Dropping 'Soul Kalibur' onto the open disk slot, Kirk looked back up at Brian. "He stayed with you almost all day. He wouldn't let anybody in for anything, it's was a little scary how clingy he was yesterday, like a different person from our flippant Casanova we all love and cringe away from." Looking back at the television, Kirk started up the game. He and Ryan picked characters and ended up both playing at the same scantily-clad-large-weaponed girl. Brian looked at his closed door, the 03 shining at him brightly in the dulling blue field, thinking about his roommate and how different Ronnie acted with him and with everybody else in blue.

Going to the kitchen, Brian took out pans and food and started cooking eggs benedict, and ham, and he toasted a bagel, making a breakfast sandwich for Ronnie, his way of thanking the younger boy without vocalizing it. Carrying the plate of food back to dorm three, Brian saw Ronnie stil asleep, his back to the door.

Checking the clock a bright [10:10 am]stared out across the room. Crinkling his nose, Brian noticed an odd, rotting smell issuing from under Ronnie's bed and remember what Ronnie had told him the past morning. ++"You came in last night drunk as a fish. Woke up about 45 minutes ago and up chucked to beat the band all over my backpack, which you are replacing, the rug, and some of the floor under my bed."++

Placing the steaming sandwich on Ronnie's computer table Brian found some paper towels and went about his business trying to get the reeking smell out of the room when he noticed that a little of it was on Ronnie's quilt and some of it imbedded in the rug. Cleaning up the mess as best he could, Brian wrote himself a mental note telling himself to buy an air freshener to at least deal with some of the sour smell still clingingthe the room.

Washing his hands, Brian saw Ronnie sitting up in the bed, inspecting the sandwich that had cooled on his desk, his red hair falling all around his face and partially down his back. Looking at the door to see Brian enter, still not wearing a shirt, Ronnie gulped almost audibly as he fought his raging emotions for his roommate, hoping nothing would show on his face. "Morning."

"Same to you, and thanks," Brian said pointing at the sandwich and giving Ronnie a hand motion to tell him to eat. Taking the hint, Ronnie picked of the food and looked at it, not sure if he wanted to eat it, but decided against it and watched as Brian gathered up some clothes before heading back to the door, stopping, but not turning around for Ronnie to see his face. "Ronnie, I'm sorry for causing you trouble yesterday. Friday Jo (Joanne, not really important, though) dumped me just hours after Prof. Hammy (Professor Hamilton) gave me a low grade on our last test." Run his his right hand through his hair now balancing the clothes in the other, turning to look at Ronnie, Brian went on, "I was stressed, so I drank, like you said 'like a fish' then I stumbled back here, after Lou dropped me off, then I guess you can figure out the rest." He said, turning back to the door, his heart beating fast, and trying to ignore the odd feeling surging through his gut. "Well, I'll be back, soon, I guess," he mumbled leaving the room before Ronnie could for any sort of response.

Ronnie just sat in the bed, chewing his cheek, thinking about the glut of unasked information that Brian had given him. --Does he suspect anything?-- Ronnie thought, worried a little. [What wohapphappen if Dale come came back and--] he thought, trailing off in confusion and insecurity. Ronnie settled in his bed so that he was leaning onto the headboard of his bed, thinking about what he had been told. --Why did he do that? I never questioned him, I only figured something was wrong. What's wrong with him? Maybe he felt awkward about realizing he sleeping in the same bed as a guy. Maybe I should have slept in his bed and left him alone?--

Resting his head on the top of the headboard, Ronnie wondered what he should do. His grip on his emotions was weakening, he knew that something would happen that would trip him up and Brian would know how his roommate really felt about him. [Maybe a new boyfriend would be good. Dale is long gone, he still lives back in Vermont, working his way up the corporate ladder to busy to deal with a nineteen year old. He's almost twenty-six, he was nice to me and gentle, but something was always a little off between us.] closing his eyes Ronnie heard Brian return to their room a few minutes later, but the older boy didn't say anything.

Barely glancing at the younger boy who was still sitting in bed, Brian pulled a sweatshirt and coat out of his side of the closet before sitting on his own bed and pulling his boots on. "Later," was all he said, not giving Ronnie any indication as to where he was going. Ronnie sat watching Brian, through eyes half closed, as he left, before getting up to shower and dress for the day.

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[Ohmigod! I think I've fallen in love with him. That's not really bad thing, but what if he doesn't really find me appealing. I remember when he told me he was gay, I more or less brushed it off. I mean, he lovho oho or what he wants to love.] Brian thought as the cool November winds swept around him as he walked toward his car. [I think I told him that as long as he doesn't hit on me, I'd be fine with it, but now I'm starting to wonder, I mean he kissed me last night and I don't remember resisting much. What should I do, he didn't say anything and I spilled all that private information. I mean it's not as if he really asked me why I had come back drunk, he just took care of me.]

Palming his car keys, Brian opened the door to his two-seater, five-on-the-floor red Pion, the black flames breaking as the door slid up, out of his way. Turning the key in the ignition and hearing the vehicle growl to life as the driver side door closed brought Brian back to the present, breaking his thoughts as he picked a radio station to listed to before driving out of the Duzell Hall parking lot and making a left as he drove to the mall.

On the radio {I feel like I wanna smack somebody
Turn around and bitch slap somebody (bitch)
But I ain't goin' out bro (no, no, no)
I ain't givin' into it (no, no, no)

Anxieties bash my mind in
Terrorizing my soul like Bin Laden
But I ain't fallin' down bro (no, no, no)
I won't lose control bro (no, no, no)

Shackle and chained
My soul feels stained
I can't explain got an ich on my brain
Lately my whole aim is to maintain

And regain control of my mainframe
My bloods boiling its beatin' out propaine
My train of thoughts more like a runaway train
I'm in a fast car drivin' in a fast lane
In the rain and I'm might just hydroplaine}

[This song is so perfect,] Brian thought bouncin his head with the rock pop beat of the song as he drove to the mall.

{I don't fear none of my enemies
And I don't fear bullets from Uzis
I've been dealing with something thats worse than these
That'll make you fall to your knees and thats the

-The anxiety the sane and the insane rivalry
Paranoias brought me to my knees
Lord please, please, please
Take away my anxiety
The sane and the insane rivalryranoranoias brought me to my knees
Lord please, please, please
Take away my anxiety-}

stopping at a light Brian looked out his window at the people walking on the sidewalk. He saw couples holding hands, cooing away like doves. Looking to the left sidewalk Brian saw two owneryingying to drag their dogs away from each other, their barks muted by the music blastin the the car. Pulling away as the light changed, Brian focused on the beat and the music forgetting about hi stress and worries for the moment.

{My head keeps running away my brother
The only thing making me stay my brother
But I won't give into it bro (no, no, no)
Gotta get myself back now (no, no, no)

God, I can't let my mind be
Tell my enemy is my own
Gots to find my inner wealth
Gots to hold up my thoughts
I can't get caught (no, no, no)
I can't give into it now (no, no, no)

Emotions are trapped set on lock
Got my brain stuck goin through the motions
Only I know what's up
I'm filled up with pain
Tryin' to gain my sanity

Everywhere I turn its a dead end infront of me
With nowhere to go gotta shake this anxiety
Got me feelin' strange paranoia took over me
And its weighin' me down
And I can't run any longer, yo
Knees to the ground

I don't fear none of my enemies
And I don't fear bullets from Uzis
I've been dealing with something thats worse than these
That'll make you fall to your knees and thats the

-The anxiety the sane and the insane rivalry
Paranoias brought me to my knees
Lord please, please, please
Take away my anxiety
The sane and the insane rivalry
Paranoias brought me to my knees
Lord pleasleaslease, please
Take away my anxiety-}

Pulling into the mall parking lot, Brian listened to the end of the song while waiting for a small red car to pull out of a space three rows over from the nearest entrance.

{I don't fear none of my enemies
And I don't fear bullets from Uzis
I've been dealing with something thats worse than these
That'll make you fall to your knees and thats the

-The anxiety the sane and the insane rivalry
Paranoias brought me to my knees
Lord please, please, please
Take away my anxiety
The sane and the insane rivalry
Paranoias brought me to my knees
Lord please, please, please
Takin' away my anxiety-}

Resting his forehead on the steering wheel as the last chords of the song faded away and the radio's DJ came on announcing the next song, this one a ballad, before Brian cut the power, the car quieting. Pulling the handle, the door slid up and Brian climbed out at looked toward the mall, praying he'd find what he wanted soon.

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Ronnie walked out of the bathroom around eleven-forty, his hair dark with water laying limply ast hst his back as he walked through the common room to room three, pausing only a moment to see who was playing video games before pressing the ID pad to enter his room. Dropping his pajama pants on his bed, Ronnie sat down at his computer and 'woke' it from the screensaver and the programmed 'sleep' mode to continue work.

Once the screen had cleared Ronnie opened a file labeled 'Forlorn' and watched as the Micropop Word opened the desired document and counted up the 245 pages he had already typed. Dragging the scrbar bar to the bottom, Ronnie reached the last two paragraphs he had typed before connecting to his Internet radio to continue working.

Listening to the pounding keys in Tchaikovsky's piano concerto, Ronnie worked on his story for his Historical English class. The story he was working on was about a married wife in 16th century France who was not being fulfilled the way she desired and so slept with hundreds of men, killing any child she conceived in these affairs. After finding men undesirable and not satisfying enough, in the woman started going out to brothels, dressed as a man. Hiding all from her husband who was too busy to suspected something was amiss. Eventually the husband started noticing that some of their servants were missing, and new, less efficient servants were in their house, in their places. The husband had spies searching the house to find out who was firing the old maids and butlers, and hiring the new one. The spies brought him news of his adulterous wife and sent them to figure out why she was so unfaithful to him. The husband learned that while he spent most of his time in a different part of the house from his wife, managing their estates and training his heir in all he needed to do, his wife had become a nymphomaniac and had screwed everything she could, even bringing harm upon herself from her adventurous actions.

Carefully looking back at the past few pages, Ronnie mentally mapped out what the husbands course of action would be. He had already written a rough outline, knowing the stories conclusion, but where he was, was critical. How he had to explain the next part of the story would make it or break it. Ronnie sat and typed for describing how the husband strung and elaborate trap in the most recent brothel his wife was using.

Sighing and leaning back away from the desk, Ronnie looked at the clock in the corner of the screen [1:30] looked at him in the dark blues he'd liked for his screen. Saving his work, Ronnie stretched his legs and standing, his stomach grumbled angrily atfor for ignoring it for so long, he looked at the sandwich Brian had set down hours ago, having never picked it, before he left the room to see what was in the kitchen. Yawning, slightly tired from writing for so long, Ronnie poked around the kitchen to see what he had to eat.

Finding nothing desirable in the kitchen he returned to his room grumbling about the lack of food. Getting his wallet, Ronnie picked up a jacket to go over his sweatshirt and left to buy something.

Walking toward the parking lot, Ronnie saw Brian's red and black two-seater pull into the parking lot. Wanting to prevent an awkward moment between them, Ronnie ducked into a park to his right and started walking in circles. After going around the park a couple of times, Ronnie decided he was hungryto bto bto be able to get past Brian if he was still there and to his car. Making the left and breaking his circuit of the park, Ronnie checked the parking lot and saw that Brian was gone. Sighing gratefully he climbed into his dark vehicle drove to the nearest fast-food restaurant, Taco Banzai.

Clicking on the radio, Ronnie heard no songs he liked, but finally settled on a song he had never heard before.

On the radio {Where is the love
The love, the love

It just t tht the same, always unchanged
New days are strange, is the world insane
If love and peace is so strong
Why are there pieces of love that don't belong

Nations droppin' bombs
Chemical gasses fillin' lungs of little ones
With the ongoin' sufferin' as the youth die young
So ask yourself is the lovin' really gone
So I could ask myself really what is goin' wrong}

[This song is different.] Ronnie thought making a left further down the road then Brian had. [I wonder where the love between Brian and Dale and me is. Is it still there between Dale and me, or is it now between Brian and me]

{In this world that we livin' in people keep on givin' in
Makin' wrong decisions, only visions of them dividends
Not respectin' each other, deny thy brother
A war is goin' on but the reason's undercover
The truth is kept secret, (SSSH, SSSH)
it's swept under the rug
If you never know truth then you never know love
Where's the love, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the truth, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the love, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
and would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above...}

Changing the radio station to a more calming classical station, Ronnie tried to let the playful chords of Vivaldi's 'Four Seasons: Spring' chase the depressing questions from his mind.

Soon pulling into the parking lot of the Taco Banzai, Ronnie cut off the car, and got out the car. Humming the tune of the Beethoven song that came on after the Vivaldi went off. Inside the restaurant, Ronnie got onto the end of the short line of customers and waited his turn, still trying to ignore the thoughts running through his head about Brian. [He's un-allowed, remember, dumbass] he chided hoping it would help. [Right after you told him you were gay he said he was fine with it, but he wouldn't be to fine with it if mademade any advance on him.]

Weighing the options, another part of him replied --Well then, what about last night, why didn't you stop me then?!? Why didn't he stop me himself? I mean, if I remember right, he kissed me back!--

[He was sick and had a temperature you fool! Of coarse he couldn't do much!] The first side answered, this time the fight not sounding as strong as it had in the beginning of the argument. [He was defenseless, which makes your kiss even worse!]

"Excuse me, sir, are you ready to order?" a voice asked, startling Ronnie away from his thoughts.

"Huh, what," he mumbled for a moment, remembering where he was. "Oh, yeah. Can I have a number five, beef, no sour cream please."

"Alright, that's will be $5.11," the cashier replied after placing the order. "Thank you, your number will be called shortly.

Taking the receipt from the man, Ronnie flopped into an embootbooth before remembering about the drink that came with his food. Getting back up, Ronnie went to the drink dispenser and mixed the lemon-lime sodas with the fruit juices in his own mock Bloody Mary.

Sitting back down with his drink, Ronnie waited five minutes until his order was called. Thanking the woman who passed him his food, he returned to his car and rode out to a small lake to eat and think. Sitting on the grass and looking out across the churning water, Ronnie started eating the beef chalupa he had bought and letting his mind wander to where it would.

[Does Brian feel weird about what happened last night? I mean he kind of just left after making me that sandwich. Maybe I should have dumped it before he got back and thought I was mean about not eating it or something. It was odd, he cooked for me.]

--Maybe he truly likes you, and you just can't handle that idea--

[But if he liked me, why would he tell me not to touch him or anything?]

--Because, he didn't know he liked you months ago, I meas aas a child you though you were in love with girls, until ::it:: happened. -

[I can't do anything about what happened, but...]

--We don't know if it did or didn't affect you, stupid, we just have to take care of whatever's going on now. Whatever's going to happen.-

Getting up, Ronnie cleared his head of the negative memories. The memories that are always plaguing him, and only sometimes leaving him. Picking up I food wrappers, Ronnie climbed the hill back to where he had left the care, preparing to return to his homework.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+

Brian ignored the fact that he saw Ronnie circling the park near the parking lot and returned to blue to relax after his long and tiring day. [I wonder if he'll like the CDs] he questioned himself as the elevator opened its doors, granting him admittance. -Well, he likes classical, and he doesn't have much from Chopin or Bach. He mostly listens to his radio or the Internet radio so this might be a nice change of pace.-

[I know, but you'd think I could think of something better for his twentieth birthday gift!]

{Well, you could always give him your self} a relaxed and evil voice said from the back of Brian's head.

[What the hell are you talking about!] his sensible side yelled to the quiet, dirty voice. [I could never do that. And anyway, if I were gay, I'd be on top!]

{You know you want the feel of another man's hands sliding up and down you. You know you'd love the feeling of somebody having the power over you to make you squeal and squirm. Stop lying about your dreams. Stop acting as if you're completely straight!}

[What dreams?] a quiet voice asked, scared of the answer.

Brian got off the elevator, the quiet voice battling the evil voice, shocking him as he remembered thoughts he though he had locked away. Ignoring the questioning stares he got from the boys playing games infront of the computer, Brian walked to dorm three and his legs buckled beneath him as soon a the door closed.

{ #A pressure pounding away inside of me. Long red hair fanning about me chest as something wet and warm travels up and down my body.#}

[stop it]

{^I groan and moan as strong hands hold me still as something long and hard enters me, tarring me as a wave of pleasure and pain washes up my body^}

[Shut up, stop it!]

{*I hear my name chanted behind me as I repeat a name that rolls off my tongue with familiarity. 'Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie' I chant, moaning as my arms ach from holding the bed's headboard. I scream his name out loud coming hard on the bed, sweat pouring down me as Ronnie comes soon after. I feel his sweaty body on top mine as I collapse onto the bed. He holds me close and presses his lips to the side of my neck whispering 'I love you'*}

"STOP IT!" Brian yelled wrapping his hands around his head as if to force the memories away. "STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER ANY OF THIS! I WISH YOU'D GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!" he screamed out loud at the voice in his head. "LEAVE ME ALONE! GO AWAY! THERE'S NOTHING WRONG ME! I'm perfectly normal!" he said, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper as he gripped his elbows, hugging himself as he rocked back and forth, oblivious to the voices outside the door, calling out to him. "I'm perfectly fine! I had a girlfriend, but shmpedmped me. I'll get another soon, there's nothing wrong with being single. I never had any of those dreams." He said trying to rationalize his thoughts, his nails digging small red moons into his arms.

{Stop lying to yourself}

"No, no, no." he replied as sweat trickled down his face and blood started falling from his arms.

-Stop lying to yourself, Brian. You know you're not straight.-

"I'm alright, I'm fine, there's nothing wrong with me!"

[Brian, you know you're wrong. You've been living a lie for years, at least en years and you know it.]

"No, I'm a good Christian boy. I'm in love with girls not boys."

[Stop lying to yourself! You know you're lying.]

"No, I'm telling the truth. I'm a good boy. Mommy will give me something good if I'm a good boy."

-Ever since Mother saw you once kissing Justin you've been hyper-obsessed with girls. You know you're lying to your self. You know you're hurting yourself.-

"No, I didn't kiss Justin. I never touched him wrong. He never touched my body."

{He did} the third voice sounding kinder then it had earlier less of a threatening edge to it, more calming. {The last time you say him, when he slept over, he touched you. He wrapped his hand around you and made you moan and scream.}

"No, Justin never touched me there. He never grabbed my penis. He never...he never..."

[He did and you begged him for more. You loved it and then your mother caught you, she caught you on top of him. She caught you as you impaled yourself on him.]

-She heard you moan, she saw as he wrapped his hands about your smaller waist and pull you all the way down on him. She saw it all in horror.-

"No...no-nothing happened. She saw nothing," Brian said weakly as he succumbed to the truth in his head.

[You know what she saw. She knows what she saw. That's why you never saw Justin after that. You never saw the older boy who took you first.]

"She saw everything and hated me for it."

{Yes, she saw everything, that's why Justin is gone. That's why George and Sam and Bill are gone. She feared that they would all corrupt you and send you to hell.}

"But she was wrong, I asked them. Everytime, I asked them, until she had me committed." Brian slowly stood up and walked to the bed, no paying attention to which bed he went to. Laying down and smelling a pleasant spicy scent, Brian shed his clothes, the his arms searing in pain from the movement. Kicking his clothes to the floor, Brian wrapped his body in the comforting dark sheets and stared at the wall as he mind slowed.

-{[it's okay]}- all three voices said at the same time, soothing Brian's mind. -{[You'll be okay, you'll be safe. You mother is far, far away. She can't hurt you anymore, you're safe. If anything happen, Ronnie will protect you like he has all year.]}-

"Yes, Ronnie has been good for me. Ronnie has been there. Ronnie will be nice and rough," tho those final words, Brian painfully grabbed his imp cock and thought of how nice Ronnie's body had felt next to his the night before, bringing it to full attention.

Sliding his hand up and down the hard shaft, Brian moaned, imagining it was Ronnie giving him a hand job. Grabbing his sacs with his other hand, Brian moaned at the rough touch and started thrusting into his hand. Pinching one of his nipples, Brian arched into the pain and moaned as he rubbed the aching flash while still moving his hand up and down his shaft feeling only the firm pressure on his penis and the other pressure on his chest.

After pinching his other nipple, hard, like the first, Brian started sucking his fingers until and then he let the saliva trail down his chest, making a short circle around his navel before reaching his desired destination. Lifting his leg out of the way, Brian harshly shoved his fingers into his ass and moaned at the feeling, his grip on his cock painfully tight as he continued to work himself.

Running one finger over the highly sensitive tip, Brian came and screamed out Ronnie's name. Pulling his fingers out of himself, Brian curled up in the bed, Ronnie's bed, and fell asleep, his mind quiet.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+

Ronnie burst into the room, rushing after he'd gotten back to his car, hearing from Kirk and Adrian that something was wrong with Brian and he was screaming. Looking for Brian, Ronnie found him curled up in his bed, asleep in the mid-afternoon light filtering into the room.

Looking at the form in his bead, Ronnie sighed because Brian appeared to be seeping and not dead. Walking carefully over to the bed Ronnie decided to check out Brian, make sure he was living.

Pulling the sheets down from Brian's neck, Ronnie saw the blood drying, smeared across his arm and knitted his eyebrows in confusion, but decided to leave Brian alone to sleep in his bed. Tired from his raging thoughts and the events of the day, Ronnie walked over to Brian's bed and fell asleep as soon as he had his shoes off.

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Wow, this was a long ass chapter and I worked damn hard on it so...

NO HATE!!!

And I'd like to thank my mind, because that's how my mind works. Ahh, the sweet two sided conversations for when I've got a problem to worry about. Three ree sided convo's are some of the worst.

As for the 'dreams' Brian has, those are three separate dreams he had. I'm not sure how obvious that is, but I thought you'd like to know that.

Just a reminder, I am starting a mailing list, which I will keep up! Like I said, questions I can't answer in a rant, send it to dichigo88@yahoo.com and I'll reply, if you don't mind minor spoilers. I meant to post this with chapter three, but I forgot and I just decided not to repost it with this information, since, I figured I could always post it some other time.

One last reminder, school will be holding me up, so I hope you don't mind waiting for the postings. I plan on keeping things to about two postings a month, but please bear with me if I mess up, I'm still writing and planning. Thankies to all you wonderful readers and reviewers!
DI

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So, that was a trip down memory lane for me, and ....well, i don't know what it was for you reader. But, it's me, it was me back in 2004, how I wrote. Um, I will never apologize for it, aside from never writing more before, but now that I'm older it can be properly written when I get the time to sit down and just write.

Until the next post, brush your face and grease your hair :)

Jasmine P.