Ignore my previous entry; it was less than cogent. Forgive me for that.

Most importantly, I have matriculated to the University of Wisconsin - Madison. I have outstanding applications to other schools, such as the University of Chicago, Wesleyan, Oberlin, and the University of Rochester, but I anticipate attending the Univsersity of Wisconsin regardless of the responses from the other colleges.

Recently, I have felt like there's just nothing left about which I could write. Life has slipped into a painful sort of status-quo where the whole name of the game is just to tread water until the end of my high school career. I feel like things are progessively getting worse and worse, psychologically speaking. I had a psychological break towards the beginning of December, after which I pulled myself together long enough to reach Winter Break. I was able to successfuly revive most of my inner facilities during that period of time, immersing myself only in things for which I had a great deal of passion, namely languages. I've started learning Livonian, if only in a cursory manner until I can find time to sit down and write out all the grammar. I've also begun to pick up more Icelandic and Finnish, the results of which have produced a noticeable increase in my ability to comprehend both languages.

Unfortunately, Winter Break did have to end. Upon my return to school, I have found myself susceptible to bouts of severe social anxiety within my school's walls. I'll be caught in a crowd of people, and almost lose it.

People around me are getting worse, as well. Drug habits are growing into huge, ugly beasts that control them. An appreciation for alcohol has grown into an addiction, and a curiosity in perscription drugs has become a dependence. Welcome to the new generation, where self-pity and self-centered personalities lead to an increase in the Dead that walk.

I find that my inner voice, my ability to stitch together words, to articulate thoughts and feelings, is slowly returning, much to my relief. I had begun to think that I lost the ability to write.

Although I may present a grim picture, the game has not been lost. I have made peace with many of my problems and issues, and, though I still have a great many to address, I am beginning to think that I am earning the term "well-adjusted." I have also been on a musical discovery spree. I have embraced such artists as Elliott Smith, Fiona Apple, ohGr, Laibach, and Goldfrapp. A new part of my life requires a new soundtrack, and I seek to create new constellations.

My largest complaint is how disconnected I feel from so many people. So many of you.

I was returning home today with my mother, when we were astounded by a beautiful spider, Argiope argentata. Naturally, pictures were taken. Here're the best four:

Gammla Stan, Stockholm, Sweden

It's really weird to have woken up in Copenhagen, and to be falling asleep home, in your own bed.

Every time I leave from Europe (This may well have been more than the 20th), I feel like I leave an anchor behind, for me to come back to, when I am older.

That thought may seem a little abstract, without a proper backdrop.

I recognize the fact that many of my peers still hold on to unrealistic hopes and dreams, the "I want to be a rockstar" desire, if you will. I believe that this is a quality that I do not share with them; I find my goals quite realistic. I want to graduate high school. I want to go to university outside of Virginia, because I really cannot take much more of this state. I want to graduate with a degree in some sort of Natural Science, such as Biochemistry, Virology, Immunology, et cetera. I then want to go to Edinburgh to attain my DVM.

Well, maybe not Edinburgh, but you get the idea.


After all of this is done, and I am in my mid-twenties, I want to live in Europe. Not temporarily, but permanently. It's hard to explain why. The concept of "the grass is much greener on the other side" could be applicable, but I do not view Europe as being a utopia. I recognize the fact that all of the countries that make up the Continent have many flaws, but they are flaws that I can accept, that I can live with.

The flaws that I cannot live with are those which run rampant in the American mainstream. The concept that it's somehow "okay" to systematically destroy the rights of people, citizens or no, to help foster a false sense of safety; one that may very well be even more dangerous than the sense of safety that existed before 9/11.

Honestly, examine everything that's happened. All of the fiascoes involving wire taps and prisons that are not "within US jurisdiction," all in the name of "making the world safer." But are we safer? After the attempt to bring explosive liquids onto many planes that we've all already heard about, I would say "no," and that we may, indeed, be even more at-risk than ever before.

When I was arriving at IAD today, I had to go through Immigration, like one would whenever entering any country. The only difference was that I felt like I was entering a fascist state, one of Orwellian proportions, where a branch of the government known as "Homeland Security" takes digital fingerprints of all "non-citizens" entering the country, along with digital pictures. Where the President of this country said that a judge who ruled against wire-tapping, and that any who agreed with her, was just "out of touch with current times."

I can honestly say that I did not want to return.

Americans need to realize that, not only are we no safer than before 9/11, we have become The Enemy. We took 9/11, an event that put the entirety of the West at out sympathies, and turn into a war-like bully who invades a country, then invades another on what has been proved by the 9/11 Commission as being false pretenses.

We invaded a country due to a pack of lies. We sent our sons and daughters, friends and family, to death, and the man who sent them there still sits in office.

Now, a new crises has arisen, and this country had the chance to start mending its reputation in Asia Minor. Instead, we support Israel in its unrelenting, treaty-violating assault against the citizens of Lebanon. Not only do we support Israel, but we fuel them, with regular bombs AND cluster bombs-- weapons whose existence means the death of innocents.


And the man who is in charge of all of this still sits in office. God Bless America.


But this is not the only flaw in America that makes me want to leave for Europe. How could a country whose foundation is "Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness*" possibly even begin to justify half of what it does to its own people. Are you not white, not rich, not heterosexual, not male, not protestant, not anglo-saxon, and young? Good luck changing government policy.

I will be candid in saying that my main conflict with American policy, aside from being pro-choice, is that I am a homosexual, and no force in existence, not even God, himself, should he exist, could make me think this is a bad thing. I was born in America. I came from two American citizens. How the hell should I be denied rights that anyone else can get?

It frustrates me when people start talking about illegal immigration, because, on one hand, I want to help them; I do not think "sealing the boarder" is the best way to handle the situation. However, at the same time, the rights that some of the immigrant right groups demand are rights that I, as an American Citizen, do not have access to. I don't see that as fair, though I would gladly welcome someone voicing their opinion on this topic.

I guess that the biggest push factor for me are social based. I'm extremely liberal, with a great deal of Socialist ideals. It says something when Grønland (Greenland) provides more for ALL of its citizens than the "Best Country In The World" does.

So., hopefully, I will be able to go live in Europe one day, to pick up the anchors I left over the course of my journies.


Until then, though, I remain here, in America, exercising my right to freedom of speech.






*-- The philosopher who coined this idea originally intended it to be "Life, Liberty, and Property," but the Founding Fathers didn't want blacks or women to get any ideas.

Oh Jesus. This spring break has just been... fantastic.


Flashing back to last Friday. I took the red-eye to Paris, France. We got there at about noon, local time, which was six AM my time. Took a nap, etc etc etc, went out. Had fun.

My hotel, itself, was in the 8th Arrondisment, which means I was a 5 minute walk from the Champs-Elysées, and just off Rue Saint-Honoré. I went to a district called Mirais a lot. It's basically DuPont Circle, a colossal Jewish population, so there were a lot of really hot guys, good stores (MAC and Kiehl's RIGHT NEXT TO EACHOTHER! SWOON.), and great bakeries and bagel places.

I didn't do much touristy stuff, as this was the seventh time that I made the pilgrimage to the City of Lights. However, I did, finally, go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I will say that, while the view from the top was spectacular, I thought that the second level was truly the best; you were high enough to get a good, far view of Paris, but were still close enough to get detailed views of the individual monuments.

My parents made the decision to try "treating me as an adult" on this trip. Hence, I was able to go off on my own for 3-4 hours every day. I spent a lot of time in the Latin Quarter, as well as the aforementioned Mirais, the Champs-Elysées, and the Pompidou Center. I was surprised at how much French I was able to comprehend/speak, due to the fact that my normal usage, i.e. in class, is very limited, because 1/2 the class can't even conjugate verbs in the present tense. Sigh.

I spent a total of six days in Paris, from Saturday through Thursday. This visit reaffirmed my belief that I will end up living in Europe at some point in my life, and it will most likely be in either Berlin, or Paris.

On the day we left, I was not homesick, per se, but I definitely missed my kitty. The plane ride back was interesting... no, insane would be a better word for it. I get on my plane, and calmly, and politely, proceed to my seat. I sit down, position my stuff so it is properly stowed, and then wait for take off. Suddenly, however, as we're leaving the gate, and are still on the ground, this elderly, obese woman in front of me tries to recline. This is an interesting thing to have happen, as A) I am 6'4, and my legs are literally flush with the seat in front of me when it's upright, thus making me very uncomfortable in the event of someone desiring to recline, and B) WE HAVEN'T EVEN TAKEN OFF. So, as this woman is trying to recline, I make no effort to accomodate her, because she shouldn't even be trying at this point. However, her equally elderly, and equally obese, husband across the way pantomimes to her SLAMMING THE SEAT BACK. So she tries. And I kinda sorta flip out. "Excusez-moi, mais ça, ce n'est pas une bonne chose à faire !" Her husband practically leaps out of his seat, uttering "monsieur" in a horribly American accent, and extending his hand to me, as if he wanted me to shake it. I looked at his extended hand, and then at him, and shoot him a look that says "wtf you expect me to touch you? ew."

So this man, who shall be henceforth known as Stereotypical Rude, Jackass American, or SRJA, proceeds to insist that I am purposefully denying his horrid little wench her right to recline. I point out to him that I am giving her as much room as possible, and that she just can't, because there's not enough room. He says "I don't care how tall you are, MY WIFE HAS THE RIGH!" My mother then chimes in "... not when you're taking off." So doomsday is averted, if only temporarily. After we take off, SRJA leans over back to me, and says "my wife is going to recline now." I ignore him. He then proceedes to threaten me, "If you don't move, I'll trade seats with her, and SLAM IT BACK!" WTF. So I continue to ignore him. Eventually, my dad and I switch seats (much to my dismay, I wanted him to try slamming the seat back, so I could sue his ass for breaking my knee caps). However, as my dad switches seats with me, he says to the guy "I am accommodating you, but under no circumstances should you ever talk to my son like that." SRJA flips out, standing up, and saying "I refuse to be talked to like that! I don't appreciate it! BLAHBLAHBLAH I'M A STUPID FUCKING, PIG-HEADED AMERICAN WHO SHOULD BE SHOT." I ignore him for the rest of the flight.

Oddly enough, the flight attendants never deemed it worth while to see what the cause of SRJA yelling, and alerting the entire cabin to his dismay, was. I respect Air France a little less, now. Also, when the fuck did people get it in their heads that they have a RIGHT to recline?

What pisses me off the most, aside from the obvious, is that I hate how people well see how this guy acts, and then will assume that this is common place for Americans. For instance, while I was in a cab headed to Printemps, which is a heavenly department store that consists of three, separate buildings, one for housewears, one for women, and one for men, I got into a conversation with the driver, in French, about the US government. He was surprised to hear that it was true that the majority of America didn't approve of what Bush was doing. I told him "it's true; in the last election, 49% of Americans didn't vote for him. Now, his approval ratings are now somewhere in the low 40's." He was quite surprised, and actually apologized for the misconception.

So anyway. I get back to the US at about seven PM local time, which was really fucking early in the morning for me. On our way home, there was, apparently, a horrible accent on I-95, and thus all the major arteries of the metropolitan area were clogged. It took us a fucking looong time to get home. I viewed it as Virginia telling me that it wanted me to go back to France.

Once I got home, I basically spent the rest of the night giving love to my cat, who wouldn't leave me alone for a second. I went to bed at about midnight, because I found that my body had become blissfully tolerant of jet-lag.

So that concludes my trip to France. I will close this segment with a few statistics:

Number of bottles of wine consumed: Three. two red wines of an excellent vintage, and a Veuve Cliqout Rosé Champagne
Number of boy who hit on me: Four. They were all hot, and all worked in the Best Buy-sized Sephora down on the Champs-Elysées. Guess who got the employee discount every time he went there?
Number of metro tickets consumed: Twenty.
Number of packs of cigarettes consumed: Two. One pack of Gauloises-Blondes, and one Gitanes unfiltered.
Number of hours spent sitting in a café and taking in the ambiance: Plenty.
Biggest purchases: 115€ Camper Shoes, which I have dubbed my "Gay Shoes," and a 59€, orange, Italian leather wallet.

---

So I woke up on Friday absolutely stoked for what was going to happen that night: the sold out Ladytron concert that I was going to go to with my fabulous cohort, synthrockstar. I woke up at about eight in the morning, due to remnants of the jet lag. I frittered away my morning in the sun, reading Lolita for the millionth time, and periodically checked up on AIM. At about 4 o'clock, I got a call from Christina that she was back from the Bahamas, so I went to go hang out with her. We eventually went to Jessica's place. Jessica is this absolutely vivacious girl who was forced up here when the hurricanes raped New Orleans. I left her place at about 6:30, and went back to my place to start to decide what makeup I was going to wear for the evening. I get the call from Nick to come grab him at about 6:45, and so I do. I pick him up, and we just talk for a while (it's a rare thing for me not to have to force conversation with people, so I adore talking to him), then get ready.

We leave at eight-something, and get off to a rocky start, due to the fact that I forgot things, etcetcetc. We got to Gallery Place at about 10, and went down to Chipotle to grab some dinner. Once we dispatched that, we headed back to the metro to go down to Cardozo, and, thus, the 9:30 Club. We appeared fashionably late, and met some of his friends that were at the back of the pit. From there, we waded out way to the front (me being 6'9 at the time, I didn't really need to force my way around, haha.) I got to know a friend of Nick's quite well, and found her to be absolutely fantastic. SO anyway. Ladytron came on at midnight, which was both appropriate as well as intended, as their most recent album is titled "Witching Hour." Let me just say the following: oh my fucking god. The concert was magical. I danced the ENTIRE time (my feet clothed merely in socks, as I thought it to be rude to keep my platforms on for the main act). Afterwords, this woman invited me, and "any of your friends" to meet the band, and then go to the afterparty. We ended up not being able to go, due to the fact that the concert ended at 1:45 AM, and the metro was closing in an hour, but the fact that someone picked little ol' me out to meet one of my favorite bands was flooring. Interestingly enough, however, the band came out to the floor afterwards for an informal meet & greet; this won them a lot of cool points with me, as I highly approve of bands that don't just take your money, and then run off. Interestingly enough, the last time Laydtron played at the 9:30, the crowd was apparently very minimal, but this time, the venue has sold out completely. Helen said that "this was a lot of fun." She wasn't kidding.

So Nick and I leave, crestfallen at not being able to go to the party, and we have to do some Metro-fuckery because the yellow line, my line, wasn't showing up in the expected arrivals. In any event, we got home at about 3:30-4 in the morning, obviously exhausted. We put in Amélie to watch for a while, but I fell asleep within the first thirty minutes.

( The Setlist )

Woke up today, took Nick to the metro, and am now just focusing on recuperating from my week enough so that I can go back to school somewhat rested.

Love Always,
-j.

Sasha M.
AIM
22:36:02
You're Josh, my best friend, one of my oldest friends, a skinny boy with no self-esteem who likes me best because I try to make him feel better and occasionally succeed. Plus, I wouldn't marry someone who was mysterious to me.


Soulmate, dry your eye, 'cause soulmates never die.

I don't really remember everything that's happened, to be honest. I looked at the last time I updated this journal, and March 2 feels like it was ages ago.

So here we go:


Matt and I broke up. I truly expected myself to, for lack of a better term, care. The odd thing? I don't. I don't think about him, at all. In fact, the only thing that reminded me that I might wish to mention this is that Kichinko mentioned him this afternoon. I brought this up with her, saying that it may be a testament to how nihilistic I've become, but she thinks it to be a sign that he just was utterly the incorrect match for me.

You decide.


We put Kyra down. This was the Wednesday before Matthew and I formally terminated any relationship. Again, I anticipated being sad, only to find myself relatively unmoved. Granted, I had to go into D.C. because I couldn't stay in a house that felt so quiet, but I have since moved on. My mother still brings her up, two weeks later, and I always mention how she, too, should just move on. She calls me cold.


I'm losing weight again. 7 pounds in two weeks. I've not lost my appetite; I still feel hunger, and such, but I just don't feel like eating. This isn't a resurgence of anorexia nervosa, I think. It doesn't carry the hallmarks that it used to have with me. Instead of me being overjoyed at a decreasing number, I just shrug it off, and continue on with my day.

I got my interim report. It was mediocre. B+'s and A's.

I was out of school for two days this week. Sick. Headache with a sore throat, and a nasty state of mind that felt dangerously close to being intoxicated. When I came back on Wednesday, classes started late, at 10:30, and so the day was a joke.

I go back to French class for the first time in a week tomorrow. I do not wish to go into the spiraling abyss of motivation that forms my French class. Just know that the class is slowly leeching my love for the French language from me. I think I'll learn Italian.

I have noticed a distinct lack in any motivation on my part, as of late. Thus, I have instituted a new goal, a new "thing" in which I can put my effort. I want to get a hot body, muscles, six pack, whatever, and go to Nation on my 18th birthday, and live the life that I've envied for so long. If you're 18 by that time, and wish to come, then you're welcome to join me.

I received the tickets for the Ladytron concert that I am to attend with synthrockstar. That evening promises to be... interesting, at least. It happens the day after I get back from Paris, France. I'm an escapist, what can I say?

I look over this, and it smacks of angst to me. But I'm not angsty. I'm not sad. I have no "deep seated" emotional issues that need to be addressed. I have no need for attention. I'm just... nihilistic. It's the sole term that I've found that can accurately describe where I am, currently. I feel like I'm treading water. At the same time, I am impatient. I'm waiting. Waiting for school to be over. Waiting to be 18. Waiting for life outside the small, cement zoo that is teenaged culture.

Still have more than a year; it's worth the wait.

Kyra is dying of liver failure. We're putting her down in less than twenty-four hours. In less than twenty-four hours, my dog is going to be dead.


Those words still look fake. Just a week ago she was perfectly fine.

I don't understand.

Ich habe 6/7 Punkte auf meine Chemieprüfung gekriegt! :D :D Das freut mich seeeeeehr. Jetzt bin Ich in meiner Chemieklasse. Ich hab' die heutige Prüfung beendet. Und jaaaaa. Ich hab' nichts zu sagen. XD Oh, ja. Ich will mit Johnny am Freitag ins Chinesenviertel gehen. Ich lieb' Johnny, er baggert mich nicht an. Ja wohl, er macht mich an, aber nicht kräftig. Ich denke es ist okay.

Mat ist ein Schwanzlutscher geworden. Er spricht nicht mehr mit mir. Gestern haben wir 20 Wörter miteinander gesprochen. Ich weiss nicht, ob die Beziehung viel länger dauern wird. :/ Aber, wenn wir getrennt sind, habe ich viele Männer, die mich wollen... Wie Johnny. Ach so es geht. Es geht. :D



In other news, I am actually sad that the Olympics are over.

So I'm finishing up a weekend where I was completely unproductive. The degree of sloth that I exhibited was of epic porpotions, I assure you. I needed to study for the Chemistry midterm I have tomorrow, but I'll do that tomorrow during French class.

The one productive thing I did was finally get the Polish absurdist art posters that I bought in Warsaw framed, and I'll be able to pick those up on March 10. Since when did framing cost me 400$? x.x Fucking art posters & their penchant for having hideously irregular sizes.

I'm beginning to think that my insane perfectionism will lead me to never being completely successful in a relationship, but that, m'dears, is most definitely a topic for heavily filtered discussion.

I do think that I should mention how funny the concept of a Vice President of the United States of America shooting a 78 year-old man in the face, while hunting for mentally impaired quail is.




I get to go to Paris for Spring Break. :D


I keep reading Morgunblaðið, and realizing how much I need to build my vocabulary in Icelandic. That's the coolest, and hardest, part of language learning. :x

I don't know why I'm updating so much. I guess that I am looking for something, and I feel the urge to just write. I need to network. I need to get out, and talk to people. I am going to Paris, France over spring break, and, I must admit, I need to go to Europe.

I know, I know, I sound like a huge fucking snob, but I am (basically) okay with that. The atmosphere in Europe is just so... different. Each country is a microcosm of culture, but, at the same time, there feels like there's a uniting thread. I love how I feel when I am there. I love being on the Champs-Elysées, and fitting in.

After I am done with my senior year, I have two ideas for what I want to do for that infamous "last summer," your last stint of absolute freedom, your last steps as a child. A) I go back to Berkeley, and live with hollowecstacy for a month, or two. This plan would be especially good if, by some miracle, I actually did get into Cal. B) I go to all the countries in Europe that I still want to go to, i.e., Scandinavia. Expensive, I know, but I still have a year to save up. I also should, most likely, find someone who would want to go with me, but I think I am one of the few people in my area who actually want to go to Reykjavík, Stockholm, Helsinki, and Cobenhagen.

Speaking of Cobenhagen, this (på svenska) makes me feel very, very afraid for the state of the world.

---

Unrelated, but still having an effect on how I think:

Today was our four month anniversary. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I feel like I'm becoming more of a father, and less of a boyfriend. I am still in love, but the relationship, like everything else in my life, as of late, has changed.

I talked to Maggie for the first time in about two years. I missed her a lot. She's really one of the most beautiful people I've ever met.

IB is really stressing me out, but I am going to hang out with Domenika and Trevor tomorrow at the Silver Diner.

I am going to get a haircut on Saturday. I am also going to try to go out and party, or just have fun.

I will probably see if Matt is around to do anything.