Sometimes music falls out of the sky (in a digital feed from iTunes) randomly (on the day the album is released) and hits pretty close to home (especially for emotional saps who long ago learned how to process emotions through song). Thank you MIKA for understanding what it is in my head (a fairly universal situation, to be honest) better than I know it myself. I had to do the gay gasp when I heard the lines in stanza four.
I See You--MIKA
I'm standing across from you
And dreaming of the things I do
I don't speak, you don't know me at all
For fear of what you might do
I say nothing but stare at you
And I'm dreaming
I'm trippin' over you
Truth be told
My problems solved
You mean the world to be but you'll never know
You could be cruel to me
While we're risking the way that I see you
That I see you [3x]
That I see
Conversations
Not me at all
I'm hesitating
Only to fall
And I'm waiting, I'm hating everyone
Could it be you fell for me?
And any possible similarity
If its all, how would I know?
You never knew me at all but I see you
But I see you [4x]
I'm standing across from you (But I see you)
I've dreamt alone, now the dreams won't do (But I see you)
I'm standing across from you (But I see you)
I've dreamt alone, now the dreams won't do (But I see you)
Truth be told, my problem solved
You mean the world to me
But you'll never know
You could be cruel to me
While we're risking the way that I see you
But I see you [4x]
I'm standing across from you (But I see you)
I've dreamt alone, now the dreams won't do (But I see you)
[4x]
But I see you
But I see you
But I see you
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
facebook freakouts, gay squeal and spins, and toe bashing
Bid night was stressful for me which really isn't saying much; I stress out every morning when I pick out an outfit. Stress set in a month ago when I realized I had class from 6-9 on bid night. It got worse when I forgot and scheduled an appointment for 9, directly after class. It got even worse when rumors circulated that decisions would be made by 8pm and I would be unavailable. It got slightly better when class got out 40 minutes early and I was back in my car pacing the streets of Ames by 8:50.
I ended up settling in at my apartment watching Rachel Zoe and drinking a beer. Then rumors started circling that nine was the new eight. Ten quickly became the new nine followed quickly by ghastly rumors that eleven was going to replace ten. At approximately 9:50 I received a text message asking where I was. I was at home. On my couch. Watching Rachel Zoe. Drinking a beer.
Meanwhile facebook was busy ruining the secrecy and suspense that I imagine bid nights were back in the day--all the gays were busily messaging back and forth, fingers flying in a frantic rush of questions and support. "You are totally in, there is just no way," was mixed right in with "There is always a chance I rubbed someone the wrong way" and "Knock on wood right now!" Not quite the idealistic picture of deep introspection while waiting for official word.
Eventually I couldn't stand the pressure and my roommate and I descended to the parking lot where I commenced chain smoking. I really did try to pay attention to her recap of her day--reports, an event, a request to organize a meet and greet / fundraiser for a senate campaign--but my mind was running over and over the time that had passed and the signal my phone was getting: "How is it that I only have three bars?! Four is optimum! No 3G?" At one point the gay squeal and spin came out and I got pretty dizzy.
Then a red car pulled up with four guys in it. Four guys never travel together in this town, at least not four guys with FANTASTIC hair. Slowly their faces came into focus and I lost the power of speech. Ben, Darin, Chris and Joe got out of the car and all I could muster was an accusatory, "what are you doing here?" "We are here to offer you a bid to Delta Lambda Phi." That's when all hell broke loose. I moaned as my left hand went up to my face and my right hand went up and dropped my cigarette. "Have you been smoking because of us?" asked Joe. "I have been chain smoking because of you."
To make a ridiculously long story short, they explained my bid papers, invited me to a dinner on Friday and gave me a round of hugs (during which I stepped on Darin--he won't admit it but I totally did...my Kenneth Cole's totally stomped his awesome blue slip-ons). Then they were off to the next house and I was back to the gay squeal and spin.
Meeting these men was awesome. Getting to hang out with them (and do things I never dreamed I would do) was awesome. Realizing that I would be fine with or without a bid was worthwhile. Learning about myself was first rate. Getting a bid was priceless. Trying to calm down is going to be difficult.
I ended up settling in at my apartment watching Rachel Zoe and drinking a beer. Then rumors started circling that nine was the new eight. Ten quickly became the new nine followed quickly by ghastly rumors that eleven was going to replace ten. At approximately 9:50 I received a text message asking where I was. I was at home. On my couch. Watching Rachel Zoe. Drinking a beer.
Meanwhile facebook was busy ruining the secrecy and suspense that I imagine bid nights were back in the day--all the gays were busily messaging back and forth, fingers flying in a frantic rush of questions and support. "You are totally in, there is just no way," was mixed right in with "There is always a chance I rubbed someone the wrong way" and "Knock on wood right now!" Not quite the idealistic picture of deep introspection while waiting for official word.
Eventually I couldn't stand the pressure and my roommate and I descended to the parking lot where I commenced chain smoking. I really did try to pay attention to her recap of her day--reports, an event, a request to organize a meet and greet / fundraiser for a senate campaign--but my mind was running over and over the time that had passed and the signal my phone was getting: "How is it that I only have three bars?! Four is optimum! No 3G?" At one point the gay squeal and spin came out and I got pretty dizzy.
Then a red car pulled up with four guys in it. Four guys never travel together in this town, at least not four guys with FANTASTIC hair. Slowly their faces came into focus and I lost the power of speech. Ben, Darin, Chris and Joe got out of the car and all I could muster was an accusatory, "what are you doing here?" "We are here to offer you a bid to Delta Lambda Phi." That's when all hell broke loose. I moaned as my left hand went up to my face and my right hand went up and dropped my cigarette. "Have you been smoking because of us?" asked Joe. "I have been chain smoking because of you."
To make a ridiculously long story short, they explained my bid papers, invited me to a dinner on Friday and gave me a round of hugs (during which I stepped on Darin--he won't admit it but I totally did...my Kenneth Cole's totally stomped his awesome blue slip-ons). Then they were off to the next house and I was back to the gay squeal and spin.
Meeting these men was awesome. Getting to hang out with them (and do things I never dreamed I would do) was awesome. Realizing that I would be fine with or without a bid was worthwhile. Learning about myself was first rate. Getting a bid was priceless. Trying to calm down is going to be difficult.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
the luckiest
Back in the day when my ego and superego were much more at odds with each other than they are mow, I dated women. Not a ton of women--I have always been the kind of guy who wants something serious--but enough for me to finally realize that I wasn't kidding anyone, especially myself. Despite the fact that I have written all the time since I was very young, I have never been very successful at writing what goes on inside my mind. This is also why I will likely never be well-known for my writing. Hence, in order to describe these intangible emotions I would send them through a song, a burnt CD and a note often left on someone's car with a single flower. In hindsight it seems slightly stalker-esque but for the sake of my sanity let's just say it was evidence of my flare for drama and romance.
Looking back on this part of my life I regret what I did. I regret that I wasn't strong enough to tell myself the truth and I regret that my lack of strength hurt people, especially those women. I also regret that I gave some of that music away. I am all for memories--they are a huge part of how I function--but sometimes I get tired of reminding myself constantly that I hurt people, I get tired of walking down the road to self-blame and guilt every time I listen to those songs that I gave away.
And so I am on a mission. I am reclaiming those songs. I won't shy away from them on my iPod anymore, and I will work on forgiving myself. Because one day when I find someone to love I want to be able to give him those songs that describe the way my emotions work and not be sad. I want to be happy.
Starting with this extremely special number by Ben Folds.
The Luckiest
I don't get many things right the first time in fact, I am told that alot
Now I know all the wrong turns and stumbles and falls brought me here
Where was I before the day that I first saw your lovely face, now I see it every day
And I know that I am, I am, I am the luckiest
What if I'd been born fifty years before you in a house on the street where you lived
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your, bike would I know?
And in a wide see of eyes, I see one pair that I recognized
And I know that I am, I am, I am the luckiest
I love you more than I have ever felt the way to say to you
Next door there's and old man who lived to his nineties and one day passed away in his sleep
And his wife she stayed for a couple of days and passed away
I'm sorry I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong
That I know that I am, I am, I am the luckiest
Looking back on this part of my life I regret what I did. I regret that I wasn't strong enough to tell myself the truth and I regret that my lack of strength hurt people, especially those women. I also regret that I gave some of that music away. I am all for memories--they are a huge part of how I function--but sometimes I get tired of reminding myself constantly that I hurt people, I get tired of walking down the road to self-blame and guilt every time I listen to those songs that I gave away.
And so I am on a mission. I am reclaiming those songs. I won't shy away from them on my iPod anymore, and I will work on forgiving myself. Because one day when I find someone to love I want to be able to give him those songs that describe the way my emotions work and not be sad. I want to be happy.
Starting with this extremely special number by Ben Folds.
The Luckiest
I don't get many things right the first time in fact, I am told that alot
Now I know all the wrong turns and stumbles and falls brought me here
Where was I before the day that I first saw your lovely face, now I see it every day
And I know that I am, I am, I am the luckiest
What if I'd been born fifty years before you in a house on the street where you lived
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your, bike would I know?
And in a wide see of eyes, I see one pair that I recognized
And I know that I am, I am, I am the luckiest
I love you more than I have ever felt the way to say to you
Next door there's and old man who lived to his nineties and one day passed away in his sleep
And his wife she stayed for a couple of days and passed away
I'm sorry I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong
That I know that I am, I am, I am the luckiest
Thursday, September 10, 2009
my overflowing cup
Tonight was the last rush event for Delta Lambda Phi. We met at the union, ate pizza and socialized. There is something really fun about munching a slice of pizza while sitting next to a bubbling fountain and conversing with all of the people you have grown to love over the course of a few weeks. After the pizza it was time for the main event--a technolatti scavenger hunt around campus. My group didn't win but I did get a few great pictures and laughs out of the deal.
That is what this whole experience has been--great times with great people. I got drunk and laughed my ass off at drag shows; I played kickball for the first time since grade school; I served a volleyball for the first time since high school; I got to mime a peacock and radiation at a game event; I cried on someone's couch about coming out, my mom, and my struggle to accept the world as it is. I started this process with the hopes of finding a niche in the queer community in Ames. I wanted to find a place to be with those like me and a place where I could feel like I was a part of a greater cause. I didn't expect to become so emotionally attached to these people and regardless of what happens on bid night I will still have those people in my life so the fraternity already provided me with one of my goals and for that I am thankful in more ways than I (a writer at heart) can find to express.
As usual the event ended with people sitting around talking to each other. Those who could moved to a cafe in Campus Town. We pulled tables together and bothered the waitress with too many "I'll just have waters" and more than a few moments of confusion. We sat and talked and laughed and joked. The air had a warm yellow-brown tinge to it and outside the plate glass windows, beyond the sidewalk and the trees the cars of Ames slipped by. I couldn't help thinking that three weeks ago I was in one of those cars driving by this cafe caught up in a graduate student's life, completely unaware of the people I was missing out on. As I had these thoughts the night started to wind down. People trickled out with intentions of studying or sleeping or relaxing before a busy Friday. One by one the goodbyes and hugs were shared around the tables and one by one the door swung open and the Fall 2009 Delta Lambda Phi rush process came to an end for me and my fellow rushees. As it does when something ends, my heart became heavy with emotion. I have a hard time moving on from things, even when I know that endings are new beginnings. With both my proverbial cup and my tear ducts running over as they are, I think that's reasonable. When things seem so perfect, why would anyone want to move on to the next step? Life as a whole isn't perfect, so we hold on to the moments when it is.
Thanks guys.
That is what this whole experience has been--great times with great people. I got drunk and laughed my ass off at drag shows; I played kickball for the first time since grade school; I served a volleyball for the first time since high school; I got to mime a peacock and radiation at a game event; I cried on someone's couch about coming out, my mom, and my struggle to accept the world as it is. I started this process with the hopes of finding a niche in the queer community in Ames. I wanted to find a place to be with those like me and a place where I could feel like I was a part of a greater cause. I didn't expect to become so emotionally attached to these people and regardless of what happens on bid night I will still have those people in my life so the fraternity already provided me with one of my goals and for that I am thankful in more ways than I (a writer at heart) can find to express.
As usual the event ended with people sitting around talking to each other. Those who could moved to a cafe in Campus Town. We pulled tables together and bothered the waitress with too many "I'll just have waters" and more than a few moments of confusion. We sat and talked and laughed and joked. The air had a warm yellow-brown tinge to it and outside the plate glass windows, beyond the sidewalk and the trees the cars of Ames slipped by. I couldn't help thinking that three weeks ago I was in one of those cars driving by this cafe caught up in a graduate student's life, completely unaware of the people I was missing out on. As I had these thoughts the night started to wind down. People trickled out with intentions of studying or sleeping or relaxing before a busy Friday. One by one the goodbyes and hugs were shared around the tables and one by one the door swung open and the Fall 2009 Delta Lambda Phi rush process came to an end for me and my fellow rushees. As it does when something ends, my heart became heavy with emotion. I have a hard time moving on from things, even when I know that endings are new beginnings. With both my proverbial cup and my tear ducts running over as they are, I think that's reasonable. When things seem so perfect, why would anyone want to move on to the next step? Life as a whole isn't perfect, so we hold on to the moments when it is.
Thanks guys.
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