Issues.

Spring Break was interesting. No, I didn't visit some tropical place thronged by masses of oiled up, sweaty, nubile bodies. Nor did I sit at home on my ass all week like I feared. I found myself a system that worked exceedingly well -- that is to say, I managed to split my time between home activities with the family and some carousing with the friends in Monroe ... and it worked very well. I finally visited Erik -- he lookes like a mad scientist now, but by no means am I saying that 'like it's a bad thing'. Apparently the poor child had an incredibly craptastic weekend -- but I'm sure my own pulsing aura of wonderous-nous helped. Saw Graham, too, and hung out with some other kids I'd previously thought lost. I'm going to document the fact here and now that there is nothing to do in Monroe ... at all. My posse (hah ... posse) and I drove around for almost five hours Thursday; granted, we had a good time -- but still. Is it right for a city to be so boring that wasting fuel and tire rubber is the only alternative?

Some new issues have surfaced. Dustin and his brand of madness will be pushed to the side for a while to come, I suspect. There's only so much I can worry about at once -- and let me tell you, Mr. C-grade Felony has just about worn out his welcome in my fraying brain. I'm climbing over the hill, and I'm nearly over him. I'd do a victory dance right now ... but I'm just too lazy to invent a jig. Some late night conversations during this past week have knocked a few old thoughts loose, and I can't say that they're altogether charming. But hey ... in life you gotta' learn to roll with the punches, and that's what I plan to do.

Oy, I'm so very bored right now. I had a lot of intellectual things to say, but they're gone. Gone! Out the window, over the ground, exiting the campus. Pssht. Apparently, Mr. Valo has cut his hair. Shorn it all off! The charmingly dark, curly, glorious locks have gone MIA. I'm planning to murder his hairdresser with the same pair of scissors that severed the god-mane. Not sure how I'll be able to locate this disgrace to humanity, but rest assured ... it will happen. Also, I've found a new degree of hatefulness towards cocaine. No, dear concerned citizens, I haven't done anything like that to date. I'm just spouting off about how I loathe the way this particular drug digs its claws into perfectly wonderful human beings and drags them down into the ninth level of hell. Yeah ... ninth level. Read Dante's "The Inferno." That should clear up a lot of the confusion when it comes to the phrase 'when Hell freezes over'. Carter's class back in high school shoved this marvelous piece of literature into my face, as well as some beanbag time with Jerkface and a perfectly horrid novel called "Crime and Punishment." Oh, the things I did in that class. Makes me want to relive a month or two at Monroe Senior High again.

So, as this latest entry is becoming completely random, I believe I'll sign off. Take it easy, children ... and behave.

Shocked.

It seems that I can't close that book. I can't finish the chapter. My GOD, I can't turn to a new section of life's library. I can't. I was thinking of him again; I was thinking of Dustin, and I was wondering where on this earth he'd disappeared to. No, I didn't harbor a slip of a thought as to where I might be able to contact him at. No, I don't want to hear from him ever again -- period. He ruined me. He wrenched an innocent girl away from all semblances of reality because she thought she loved him . . . and he knew it. He knew it, and he used that information to bind me ever closer to him -- despite the havoc it was wreaking upon every facet of my life. I'm angry at him still for it, but sometimes I wonder if he ever really grasped the seriousness of his actions. I don't know if he ever understood. It seems he had a mental condition; there were symptoms of a borderline personality disorder, and to think of it makes me want to break down all over again. I played into the very manifestations of this rot, and I did it because I thought that if I just stuck it out, I'd be able to help him. I'd be able to heal him, to soothe his demons, to make him see that life was worth living . . . the right way. Oh, but I was wrong. I was very, very wrong.

Anyway, I was thinking about him again. I don't know why. I've had dreams about him in the past few months. I've stumbled across the letters he wrote to me from jail. I remember the phone calls he placed to me -- begging me to come to his house. I remember, too, the chance meeting we had two years ago in the supermarket parking lot. He hugged me -- he put his arms around me (and there were fresh scars!) and he told me he'd be stopping up to see me that night at the bowling alley. I was numb with shock. By that time, I was dating Josh . . . and I didn't want anything remotely romantic with Dustin -- but I still wanted to heal him. I was scared though, and so when he did show up (posse in tow), I ignored him completely. I didn't reveal this to anyone in my last "Outpouring" because I didn't want to face the criticism that might have stemmed from it. I didn't want anyone to know (save Josh) that I'd actually left an avenue of communication open to him. I didn't want to take the responsibility. But here it is, folks. I . . . lied. I did see Dustin after I walked away from that relationship. I saw him, I heard from him, and I saved his letters -- but after that strange encounter at the bowling alley, I never found him again.

I know why that is now. I KNOW why I haven't seen Dustin for two years. Do you want to know?

Dustin is in the Wisconsin State Prison on charges of armed robbery with use of force.

Armed robbery. Yes. He's in a state prison for armed robbery. He's in a state prison for five years -- for half a decade -- because he committed armed robbery with use of force. I'm breaking down now even as I type this. I don't know how Dustin . . . my Dustin . . . could have gone from a slew of misdemeanors and a few stays in a psychiatric ward to a felony. I don't know. It hurts to think about it. I just don't know how he could have done it. I never thought in a thousand years that Dustin would have been capable of doing something as ferocious as armed robbery. But he did. And that's why I haven't seen anything of him. Oh my GOD . . . I don't know how he could have done it. I don't know. I'm finished for now. There's nothing more to say on the matter. I'm shocked.

Hanging on...

Oh, this morning is exceedingly pretty. The sky is blue, the sun is shining -- and guess what? It's forty-three degrees outside! Hallelujah! Could I dance, I'd be doing a dynamite little jig at the moment. Nevermind the fact that I just got back from taking the Art History Test of Doom; nevermind the fact that there are still two and a half more days of school. Nah ... we'll ignore those bits of information for the time being because, hey, it's a beautiful morning. And it may very well turn out to be a beautiful day.

In other news, the politics of the Mystic Tavern, in essence my 'second home,' have effectively polluted the absolute wonder of that place. I cannot begin to describe how the shakings of the foundation have forever jarred loose any and all sense of innocence I once harbored; the aftershocks of the earthquake haven't stopped yet, and already I'm beginning to think that the people I've known for a good five years really aren't the people I want to place my trust and my secrets in any longer. It's a tragic situation, but when individuals struggle for power and make back-door deals, the entire integrity of the governing body is put at risk. And that risk has translated into and out-and-out bombshell that was dropped (sans warning) onto a whole lot of oblivious, inculpable people. I don't even know where to begin picking up the pieces; one close friend disappeared with (almost) no explanation, a handful of respectable, incredible people have already gone ... and I'm left somewhere in the middle, standing amidst a pile of broken confidence and dissipating hope. I'm ready to throw up my hands and toss in the towel -- but can I really walk away from the loving community I've been apart of since middle school?

Racing off on another tangent lest the pain from the previous statements take hold, I've just realized that there's only a month left of school. A month! Hot damn! This year has been filled with ups and downs, highs and lows, depression and euphoria. I've made some new friends, I've (lamentably) lost many old ones, and I've gained a slightly better sense of myself. I've done new things, I've learned new information, and I've found also that I don't have to separate my laundry before I wash it. Isn't the world incredible? Though I'm looking forward to the end of the year with much excitement, I think I may miss college during those months that I'm home. Where else can you get soft-serve ice cream and Asian food within twelve feet of each other? Where else do you get an entire computer lab left at your disposal at two o'clock in the morning? Ahh, college life ... I loathe and love thee.

I've got Zoology lecture in forty-five minutes. Oh, praise the details of arthropods and their relatives -- for the record, that was sarcastic. Justin and I finished our Statistics test. My brain turned to mush rather quickly this time; an hour and a half spent on six multi-part questions is far too long. We're optimistic on it, however -- I'm guessing that we'll get a mid-B, and Justin believes we'll get a slightly higher grade. Oh, and yeah -- the bastard gave us a quiz. Granted, it was open notes, and I don't think I did too bad (read: B grade), but it was a quiz nonetheless and I'm going to plot revenge. Ah, revenge ... what can't it do? It's like potroast. Warm, satisfying, and broiled with carrots and potatoes. On that note, I do believe I'll shove off. Until next time, my darling audience. Adieu.

Ugh.

Things are dragging, and it's only Monday. Why must I be so impatient? Why must I loathe the things standing between myself and something most desirable? I mean, I should be able to simply sit back and say, "Hey, there's only four more days until I can get the hell out of this place! Four more days until Spring-effing-Break!" But no. I can't. I have to whine and squirm and deal with some disgustingly unwilling feelings towards school for four more days. Ugh. And it's not like I want to harbor such aversion; if I could, I'd stand up and proclaim my intentions to get through various classes with as much cheer and enthusiasm as possible. Hah. Fat chance of that happening. I wish I could go home now. I wish I could just pack my crap up and head out on the next vehicle bound for Browntown. *Sigh* I should actually be reading some wonderfully insightful Descartes for Philosophy right now, but ya' know what? SCREW IT. That's right. Screw it. I don't feel like doing aaaanything at the moment. I don't even feel like getting up from this chair in front of the computer right now, so I will continue to type random bits of brain-fodder until such a time as I see fit to stop.

So, Statistics is proving to be a pain in the ass. Granted, I am getting a solid B, which is the normal grade I get in any and all math-related courses. In fact, in high school, math classes (and the odd phy. ed. class) were the only things that kept my grade point average suspended at a firm 3.8 ... and let me tell you, it pissed me off to no end. Anyway, Statistics is a pain in the ass, like I said -- Justin and I worked on the newest homework assignment for a solid forty-five minutes (it was FOUR problems), and weren't too sure about our answers at the end. We didn't even finish the last problem ... it included a question that looked like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, and we had no idea as to how to go about working it, so we left it alone. I ended up skipping class on Thursday, as I had my own harsh problems to deal with (learning about p-values and the importance of the z* number just didn't seem like a good way to soothe my nerves), but Justin, who's in the class before mine, said that the professor wasn't going to collect the assignment and that he had to "think of another way to give us points." If the man gives us a quiz (sans notes) I'll fly into a murderous rage. No questions, please.

Aside from that, a Zoology lab test and an Art History test (yeah, she pushed it back to Wednesday) loom on the horizon. Woopty-freaking-doo. I'm exhausted every night, it seems, from all this studying and homework and stress. I haven't been able to email anyone in an eon, and today was the first time I actually found a minute to call my mom in four days. Yee-haw for me. Oh, and by the way ... those horrible personal problems that I was worried about some days ago have passed. Everything's okay again. For a while. Klein is probably coming over Wednesday night, and he's hopefully staying until Friday afternoon -- when I LEAVE FOR SPRING BREAK. WOO. This means that Jessi has to go to the C-Store and get some provisions for her Grand Duke General (Jerkface Meany-Pants). And Klein? If you're reading this, I just want to let you know that you're NOT going to be sitting in my room all day while I'm at classes; that's right, bitch, you're coming with me.

In other news, I've decided to wrap this up with another evaluation of the Joshua Files. He came up this weekend (much to my delight) and we had a wonderful time; the boy had bought 'Devil May Cry 3' a day or two before he journeyed on up here, and let me tell you ... the game was not a let down. He also brought a few other games and a movie, which we ended up watching late Sunday afternoon. All in all, it was a great, great weekend, and it gave me enough energy and high spirits to make it through Monday. Hopefully I can ride the happy-fumes until Friday. I've noticed, also, that the changes I've mentioned to him are starting to take root. In fact, he's made incredible, incredible progress in one area: initiating affection. It bothered me a lot that in the (almost) three years we've been together, he readily responded to my actions, but he rarely took it upon himself to start such things. I mentioned it to him many times, but pointed out the seriousness of it only a few months ago. And you know what? He took up that challenge and kicked its ass. He's so damned incredible. He's also doing wonderfully on the other things I've asked of him, and I'm starting to really crack down on the things he wants ME to improve.

Man, talk about your intrinsically worthwhile relationship. It's all about the praxis, philosophy students.

To sum it up, things with Josh are great, I'm not ready to stop bitching about the four days left before Spring Break, Statistics class isn't exactly the highlight of my day, and those bad, bad things that plagued me last week are gone. All in all, I'd say that I'm running at 80% ... and that's GOT to be good enough for 4/5 of a week.

"In constant dying..."

I don't feel well again. I've been strangely fatigued these past two weeks; I sometimes get a fainting sensation before crawling into bed at night ... and no, I haven't been donating inordinate amounts of plasma. I do, however, seem to bleed miniscule amounts through the pores in my arms after being administered the regulatory saline treatments. It looks like a dozen or so tiny pins have pricked the tops of my forearms in the days that follow the once-weekly donation. Maybe I should stop ... ?

I'm getting slightly (okay ... incredibly) worried over some personal situations happening in life. I won't relate them all here because, well, I just don't bloody feel like it. Needless to say, Jessi is becoming a stressed out shell of her former self -- a fact that I don't appreciate, and a fact that I'm sure a lot of other people don't appreciate. Josh least of all. I hate being cruel to him when I'm in a bad mood, but at times I can't seem to help it. He doesn't deserve any of the things I said a few days ago ... his behavior didn't warrant my irritation -- but I was sarcastic and cold, and I actually called him looking for a fight. Some nights I'm just a pathetic she-devil hunting for the blood of innocents. Take that image and apply it to what you think you know about me, children.

I hate the cold weather. I hate it with a passion usually reserved for bad religious zealots and overly-prejudiced individuals. Screw walking around campus in 30 degree weather with your head bent against a knife-sharp wind! Give me 40's and 50's ... give me a spring climate ... give me a mother-effing heatwave. I don't care. Just take away this damnably cold, bitter weather. I already put my scarf and gloves away. So help me GOD, don' t make me take them out again!

I have more to impart, but I want to go back to my room and rot in front of the TV. *Sigh* Actually, I've got to work out and study for those two tests (remember?) scheduled on Friday. Woo-freaking-hoo. I thought I'd leave you with a song that describes (in the simplest way) my feelings lately; it's wonderfully descriptive, and I'm sure, dear readers, that you can relate ... at one time or another.

The Path

There is no turning back from this unending path of mine,
Serpent turning back, it stands before my eyes --
To hell and back it will lead me once more;
It's all I have as I stumble in and out of grace ...
I walk through the gardens of dying lights
And cross over rivers deep and dark as the night,
Searching for reasons why time passes by.
With every step I take, the less I know myself --
And every vow I break on my way towards your heart;
Countless times I've prayed for forgiveness,
But gods just laughed in my face ...
And this path remains leading me into solitude's arms;
I see through the darkness my way back home,
The journey seems endless but I'll carry on --
The shadows will rise and they will fall ...
And our night drowns in dawn
Amidst all tears there's a smile all angels greet with an envious song,
One look into strangers eyes and I know where I belong --
And the path goes on ...

Oy.

I feel physically ill. Nauseous, almost. I didn't sleep much last night. I think depression has reared its head again, and I am unwilling at this point to cope with the monster.

I got a phone call from my dad yesterday. My grandma Sandry has cancer of the uterus. She underwent surgery a day or two ago, and "they think they got it all," but as with many virulent afflictions, they can't be sure. A few weeks prior to this, I learned that my Uncle Tony committed suicide. He left a note, but no one's told me anything else besides the fact that he died, and that he died by his own hand. This is the second uncle on the same side of the family to commit suicide. How's that for a legacy to leave to your children? My first uncle killed himself with a shotgun. I still don't know how Tony died ... nor do I think I want to. This means that I know three people (on a very personal level) who've taken their own lives. The other was Bonnie, a wonderful, sweet, caring, spritely woman who died late last summer by (you guessed it) a self-inflicted gunshot wound. I worked with her at 'the Mart,' and she was such a motherly figure to me. In fact, there are times when I just can't fathom how she could get so low that she would commit suicide. A lot of people think there was foul play involved, as Bonnie was renowned for her love of life, her love of her husband, her love of her family, and her love of her job. Some days, I still can't believe she's gone.

Josh did very little in the way of comforting me last night. Halfway through a third bout of sobbing, I called Klein. That worked very, very well. He got me to talk about other things, things I could laugh at and things I could make fun of. There was no way I'd call anyone else -- I've known him for ten years, and we've weathered some pretty bad times together. I was also in the middle of a sorta-fight with Joshua, so I guess he just didn't register as someone that I could talk to at the moment. Of course, I called him back after Klein played psychiatrist and I guess everything's okay now. I'm at a time when I'm angered easily, so it wasn't all of Blaster Kitty's fault ... but sometimes, he should know better than to do some of the things he does. I've hounded him on certain subjects for a year now, and I do see some improvement ... but as with all things, I just want to feel like an absolute goddess -- his absolute goddess -- and there are times when I feel very far from it.

I'm sick of school. I'm sick of having six different classes that have exams ALL in the same two weeks. Once more, I have an Art History and Zoology (lecture) exam next Friday. Same day. I'll have to study for both subjects on the same nights. This means more four-hour cram sessions every night of the week leading up to next Friday. Halle-fucking-lujah. The week after that, I've got a Zoology (lab) test Thursday. Again, more cram sessions as the professor is absolutely CRAZY and includes things from random tangents in the test (last time we had questions about 'Mad' King Otto and Queen Victoria alongside questions about microscopes and meiosis). He makes me want to cry sometimes. Just for the sheer insanity of it all. The only light at the end of the tunnel is the fact that SPRING BREAK is two weeks away. Two weeks away. Then I have a week off from the drudgery, from the laborious routine, from the IDIOTIC people on campus. *Sigh* I'm looking forward to it very, very much.

Now I'm cold. I have a long-sleeved shirt and a T-shirt on, and I'm cold. And hungry. Lunch with Brian, Nate, Joe, and Amy isn't until 1. It's only twenty to eleven now. Dammit. I have a single blue Jolly Rancher in the bottom of my backpack somewhere. I'll have to fish that out, I suppose. Maybe it'll help this nausea thing.

Disconnected...

I feel better now. I feel much, much better since my last 'outpouring.' I feel as if ... a weight (small though it is) has temporarily been lifted from my shoulders, and I think it's time -- as a dear friend has suggested -- that I close one of the many books I've labored over and turn to face the next new section in life's library. Hopefully this endeavor will meet with success; I'm reserved, of course ... I don't know if I'm strong enough to actually make it over those mental, emotional hurdles I (and others) have constructed. I'm sure that sometime, someday those hurdles will be cleared -- and then I can call myself a tried and true track star. This time, though, I don't need to sweat or stress the ol' muscles for the title.

I've been thinking a lot about the status of my relationship with Josh lately. I've decided that I am utterly and completely in love with the boy; I've decided that with him, I've felt feelings that I've never, ever experienced with anyone else in my entire lifetime. I loathe the common 'gushy girl' attitude when it comes to talking about the L-word and adoration ... because, in all honesty, I doubted that aside from familial devotion, love was non-existent. However, an epiphany was unsurreptitiously tossed upon me when I got down to the nitty-gritty of of my and Josh's connection one night -- and the thinking hasn't stopped. It's gone full speed ahead, and shows no signs of stopping. The funny thing is, though I've noticed two boys this year whom I deem attractive and interesting, I simply can't see myself with anyone but dear Blaster Kitty. And the feelings still run strong after almost three years together. He does things that are annoying, yes, and he doesn't do some things that he should ... but no one's perfect, right? He's close enough to it for me.

Har har. The complete obsession with HIM (read: the hotness that is Ville Valo) still hasn't abated. I doubt it will for a long, long time. I just can't fathom how someone could be gifted with such an intriguing, multi-faceted, spine-shivering voice. The fact that he is sex made carnate is beside the matter. Mwuahaha. Brilliant green eyes, feline features, and a waifish body to die for ... nah ... these things've got noooothing to do with my obsession. Hehe. If you guys haven't checked this band out -- DO IT! Mmm ... HIM ... band of the gods.

I suppose I should close this entry out. I'm tired of thinking and tired of typing. I'm waiting for JJ so we can RP ... but it looks like he'll be a no-show again tonight. Damn him. I'm also beginning to suspect that I should hole away some money so I can go and visit Behbeh this summer (or possibly next month -- the whole 'play' thing has me interested). And by the way, Behbeh, I'm HOOKED on 'Law and Order' now. Lenny and Jack ... terrific combination. It made me put off homework for two hours nearly three times. Mwuahaha. Haha. Ha. Ah, yes. Bye-bye, children.