Salatious Stories

I've read An Abundance of Katherines and Paper Towns since last time. In fact, I just finished Paper Towns. I think I may have liked it best, but I haven't had that much time to reflect on it and I'm definitely prone to recentism. Of course, Looking for Alaska fucked me up so much that I had a very hard time falling asleep the night I finished reading it*. I'm not entirely immune from sleepless nights, but it was an odd one. I had to keep reminding myself that Alaska Young isn't real.

My claim to fame in boy-girl relations was 2nd grade. I had two girlfriends and I recall briefly having them simultaneously. After reading An Abundance of Katherines, I realized that I have no recollection of who dumped who to end those relationships. I can only infer from my recollection of them and that time. I think Carrie Icannotrememberherlastname, who liked to kiss me on the cheek, but I wouldn't let her kiss me on the lips and who I had a fake wedding with, dumped me. I'm pretty sure I dumped Kayla Forsberg. I remember being a dick to her.

I had a girlfriend for about fifteen minutes in 5th grade. Her name was Stephanie Ramsey** and her friends asked me to be her girlfriend, but she wouldn't talk to me. Later in the that recess period her friends dumped me for her because she was too shy to talk to me.

If you use the generous definition of dumping that John Green does than I had an oddity of a relationship last year. I don't know. It was something. If you want to cast it as a relationship that has a dumper/dumpee continuum, then I was probably the dumper, but it ended very oddly. My words were the last words though. I'm being very vague and that's for good reason. This story won't ever be on my blog***.

Lindsay Lee Wells would be disappointed in my story-telling abilities. No fucking moral.

I think I would be around two standard deviations away from the mean towards dumpee on the dumper/dumpee bell curve. My brief and mostly childish track record doesn't quite agree with that, but it also doesn't account for my crippling shyness, terrible anxiety and general desperation. Those things did not exist together in me until I was in High School. The only thing that moves me towards dumper is that I eventually become irritated enough to fight back. Also, my imaginary girlfriend could never dump me; I could only dump her****.

My plans for New Year's are to start reading Will Grayson Will Grayson. There was a time not so long ago that you wouldn't get to know about how lamely I was going to spend my evening. I've stopped caring though. I used to log out of Facebook on Friday and Saturday nights and I would send tweets via text message from my bed, so people couldn't see that I was just sitting on my computer. I don't go to many parties and I don't do many exciting things period. There's no point in keeping up an illusion.

It doesn't really upset me that much to not be going out on most Friday nights or New Year's Eve. I think I pretend that I might be up to something other than being online to keep anyone from pitying me. I've come to the conclusion that people don't particularly care. I mean, people could've compared their Michael notes and found that I wasn't anywhere if it actually mattered. I'm quite content with just going out on occasion. I'd like my social life to be more active, but it's not something that I wallow about. I'm not going out every Friday and Saturday and binge drinking just because it's the thing to do*****. I'm alright with spending more nights on Xbox Live than going out.

Anyway, Happy New Year guys. I appreciate you spending any of you're 2011 on here and would be happy if you continued to do so in 2012. Expect a New Year's resolution-y post at some point in the near future.

Thanks for reading and please comment

-Michael
*I would advise you to not read the 'After' portion at night and if you do read it at night, you don't have to read the entire thing in one sitting.
**I think
***With some prodding I would probably share it privately with some of you. It probably isn't that interesting to anyone not involved in it though. Still, it was fucking strange.
****We've got a good thing going.
*****After School Special much?

Cry, Cry, Cry

I have spent the last three(ish) hours choked up reading the second half of "Looking For Alaska." I'm not sure if I lose nerdfighter cred in admitting that I haven't read John's books and just got them yesterday (well two days ago now) for Christmas. As much as I would like to really cry, I find it to be something very hard for me to actually do. Like, I'm constantly way too aware of myself to actually ever form tears.

I'm definitely not going to get into specifics, because of the desire to keep all of John Green's books unspoiled*. I think we're all especially sensitive to it now given the accidental shipment of "The Fault In Our Stars.**" However, I think we're good at this no spoilers thing, because I was pretty sure I had a pretty good idea of where 'Looking for Alaska" was going, but I was super-fucking wrong. And here I am at a quarter after one in the morning writing a fucking blog post.

Anyway, back the entire never crying thing. I don't think I'm all that good a outwardly displaying my emotions. Though that usually isn't so bad when I'm alone. I mean, I yell loudly and angrily at video games alone in my room all the time***. However, I'm never so unaware of myself of my emotions that I allow myself a good cry and I really felt like crying tonight reading that book. I do find myself feeling that 'choked-up' feeling a lot more often that I used to. As I don't think I've ever experienced tragedy, the thinks that make me feel like that are books and songs****.

I'm absolutely certain that my inability to cry is due to my conditioning as an emotionless male. It wasn't my parents either really. For as much as I bitch about my Dad, he definitely cries. I'm trying my best to be less stoic and feel. I don't think I'll ever be super-emotional*****, but I 'd like to not have a heart attack at 50, because I never expressed anything. No, I'm going to let my being anxious about every goddamn thing be what does me in.

This what you get with me after 1am. I wouldn't call my self 'vulnerable' exactly, because if I'm guarded enough to not cry, I'm sure as hell guarded enough to keep shit from this post. I'll just say my inhibitions drop a little. Also this will be even less proof-read****** than usual, in that I wouldn't proof read it at all.

Also, I say never cry not exactly in the literal sense, because I think I've actually shed tears twice since being a 'grown-up.'

Thanks for reading

-Michael
*Given the weird-ass ways that people stumble here, I think it's best not to hint at anything.
**To be fair, the book would've leaked anyway, because everything leaks and spoilers would be abound.
***I'm pretty sure Mom thinks I'm a mad-man
****Movies don't really do that for me. Deathly Hallows part two did it, but that was entirely because I had read the book.
*****Could you imagine?
******And I hardly proof-read as it is.

It's Not Winter

I did the last bit of my Christmas shopping yesterday. It was only the second time I actually had to go out to do any of it this year. The internet is wonderful. The only consequence is that my 'recommended by for you' section on Amazon is ruined. I'm not saying its's not entirely my Sister's fault, but her Christmas list exuded lameness. It's just that now it recommends things like Michael Bublé and that's just horrifying. The internet gods can't think these things about me.

The sacrifices I make.

The presents I got for my Mom were delivered on Monday. They weren't all that big, but they came in a gigantic box with lots of packing. They aren't even fragile. I think that's why I had to pay $7 for shipping. I got a gigantic box and packing material.

I'm going to set off one the adventure of wrapping them tonight. I'm not very good at wrapping presents. I understand how it should work and they should look, but that's never what happens. At least most of the things I have to pack are rectangular in nature, which makes things a lot easier.

I'm going to have to buy a new keyboard soon. I'm not particularly friendly to my keyboards, but this one's lifespan has been surprisingly short. That's not particularly surprising given that it was the cheapest wireless one at Best Buy when my last one when kaput. This one still works except the spacebar sticks. That's about the worst problem a keyboard could have. I think I could get around a letter not working, but excessive or nonexistent spaces make things annoying.

Did you know the Winter Solsctice isn't until 12:30 EST tonight (or 9:30 PST)? So, it's not technically winter yet, Em... I mean everyone

-Michael

The Baby Jesus

The other night I was looking at the full moon and decided something. I want to live on the moon someday. That would be cool. I realize that a lot would have to happen and NASA would need to be, you know, funded again. Still, you can put that along with becoming the Cookie Monster as my life goals. Being the Cookie Monster on the Moon and I would be one happy dude. In a not unrelated note, I've been watching a lot of Astronomy videos lately. Space is fucking cool.

My life has been terribly lame as of late. I should qualify that by saying more terribly lame than usual. I feel like if you all knew the sad and pathetic ways I spend a lot of my time, you wouldn't want to know me anymore, which would just make the lameness factor even higher.

I'm leaning towards just leaving my NaNoWriMo alone. I was just going to leave it alone for a week or so and then go in and at least start trying to copy-edit it. However, the further removed I got from the less I wanted to go back into. As I get further away from it the worse I feel about. I know that a lot of that is me just being self-critical. However, when I think of any form of art I've come to love it's always something that I grow fonder of the longer I've gone without experiencing it*.

I really feel like I hardly do anything anymore. I suppose I've done basically nothing for most of my life though, so I guess It's just weighing on me more. I had a terrible night a few Fridays ago due to that stuff. It was as bad of a place as I've been emotionally in quite awhile, but it hasn't repeated itself, which is great. It's a bit more complicated than what I've written here, but I can't be expected to fully understand myself.

On a much lighter note, there's a very special birthday coming up. It's the birthday of someone is awesome and very short. I'm talking, of course, about The Baby Jesus**. Actually, The Baby Jesus was almost undoubtedly not born in December***, so he's just a big phony trying to get presents.

Blasphemy

-Michael
*An example here would be The Da Vinci Code. I absolutely loved that book initially, but now that I'm years from having read it I don't look at it too fondly.
**Or Emma. I'm actually talking about Emma
***Evidence for Emma's December birth is pretty solid

NaNoWriMo 5

I hit 50,000 words tonight and finished my novel. Those numbers ended up not being very far apart. I guarantee with revision this would end up below 50,000 words, probably well below. This means you get another chapter and this will be the final one that I post here. If for some reason you've enjoyed reading them and would like to read the entire rough draft, I will gladly email it to you. Just leave a comment or let me know some other way and let me know your email, so I can send it to you.

Honestly this chapter is the ending of the story I had planned to right. It's not the end of the book, because I added a plot point, so I could get to 50,000 words. So, here is Chapter 39:

Chapter Thirty Nine

I stood up and followed her into her bedroom. I really didn’t know what she was up to. We had plenty of privacy in the living room too, so I was puzzled. Nothing that had happened that day led me to think that she wanted to have sex again, but I can’t say I didn’t want to. I doubted she had anything special to show me too.

She opened a drawer in her dresser and pulled out a pair of white socks. She sat on the corner of the bed. She smiled up at me.

“I didn’t want you to think I was going to take more pills,” she said, “Also, you’re nice company to have around.”

“I would’ve believed you, if you’d just told me,” I said.

Slipped on the socks and then pulled her red shoes out from under the bed.

“I know you would have,” she said, “I probably would’ve popped one had you not come with me though.”

She slipped the shoes on to her feet and laced them up. She looked up at me again.

“I’d like to keep you around forever,” she said, “but I think it’s time for you to go. I’ve got to get ready for work soon and I’m sure you have a life to return to. I don’t mean to sound like I’m just kicking you out.”

“Ok,” I said, “I’ll leave. It was nice…”

“Not before I walk you out,” she said.

“Ok,” I said breaking into a smile.

“I think you’re probably too shy to ask for it,” she said, “so hand me your phone and I’ll put in my number.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and handed it to her. She slid it opened and typed something in it and then handed it back to me. I didn’t really look; I just closed it and put it back into my pocket. She seemed alright with the way I handled that.

“You’d better call me,” she said.

“I will,” I said.

“I’ll hunt you down if you don’t,” she said before starting to laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

She stood up and walked out of the room, motioning for me to follow her. She stopped in front of the door and opened the closet there. She pulled out her jacket and slipped it on.

“Not that you brought that much stuff,” she said, “but you’re sure you’re not forgetting anything?”

“I’ve got everything,” I said patting my ass to make sure I still had my wallet.

“Good,” she said.

She opened the door and we walked outside together. It wasn’t all that cold. There was still a little chill in the air, but it was certainly warmer than it had been the day before. It was covered until we got down to the parking lot, so we didn’t need to worry about the rain until then.

We didn’t talk as we walked down the steps side by side. I stopped just before we were about to leave cover and she did the same. She looked at me as if she was wondering why I stopped.

“You don’t have to go into the rain,” I said.

“I want to,” she said.

“It’s cold though,” I said, “I’d rather you didn’t get wet on my behalf. You might get sick.”

“I won’t get sick,” she said, “I’ll shove you out there, if you don’t move soon, though.”

I stepped out and she was right beside. We we’re just a few steps out when the rain picked up in intensity. I walked a little fast as did she. I stopped by the driver’s side door and we faced each other. The rain had already soaked her hair it was dripping down her face. I was soaked as well and was freezing.

She looked up at me. I’m not one who usually picks up on signals, but this time it was pretty clear. She got up on her tippy-toes and I leaned down. We kissed. It was a fervent kiss. Kissing in the rain is one of those romanticized things that people put on their bucket lists. I think most people imagine it being in a summer shower not on some chilly fall afternoon. Still, I suppose it’s something I can claim now.

“I needed to do that,” she said after pulling away from the kiss, “I hope you didn’t mind.”

“Of course not,” I said.

“I don’t know where you want to go from here,” she said, “but it’s on you.”

“Ok,” I said.

“I just don’t want to ever go back to being strangers,” she said, “Just so you know I wouldn’t turn down a date. I don’t want you to be worried about that. Don’t feel obligated to do that though.”

“Alright,” I said.

“I’ll be working a lot this weekend,” she said, “call me next week and we’ll work it out then.”

“I don’t want to become strangers either,” I said, finally finding actual words.

“Good,” she said, “thank you so much for everything.”

“Thank you for being such a nice host,” I said.

“Goodbye, Michael,” she said.

She wrapped her arms around me and held me in an embrace for a while. I put my arms around her too. We had shared so much with each other. That was probably the best hug I’ve ever gotten. I said more than any words could. We finally pulled apart and I pulled my car keys out of my pocket. I unlocked my door.

“Bye, Camille,” I said, “I’m really glad you let me hang out with you.”

She didn’t say anything. She simply smiled at me. She was shivering pretty badly. I shut my car door and started the engine. She waved and then ran for cover. I was freezing too and was willing my car to warm up quickly when I started it. You never realize exactly how wet you are until you’re in a dry place.

I got everything situated and then put the car into the drive. I saw Camille standing under cover. She started waving when she thought I could see her. She was soaked and shivering. I waved back as I pulled past. I watched in the rear view mirror as she nearly sprinted out of sight.

-Michael

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

NaNoWriMo 4

I got to 40,000 words tonight, so that means you have to endure another chapter from my book. This is Chapter 34. It's mostly about a dream. It actually is an exaggerated version of a dream I had not too long ago*. Again, I'll remind that this isn't edited or revised.

Chapter Thirty Four

It wasn’t that long before I knew she had fallen asleep. I didn’t want to move, because I was afraid that I would disturb her. It wasn’t that terrible of a position or anything. It was a little weird for me though. I’ve never slept naked before and certainly not naked with another person.

My mind wouldn’t shut up either. I would shut my eyes and try to sleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what had already happened that night and what was going to happen next. I was afraid that I had taken advantage of her, which is kind of absurd given the way the night had played out. I kept thinking she would probably hate me when we woke up. There was also another voice in my head telling my how absurd my anxieties were, but it didn’t succeed in getting rid of them.

It was probably an hour before my fatigue overcame my anxiety. I managed to actually fall asleep after closing my eyes. I like sleep. It is like a fast forward button. It always seems like no time has elapsed and you’ve just jumped forward in time.

It’s weird how you can’t fall asleep, if you’re really excited about something or really dreading it. It seems like you really should be able to force yourself to sleep if you’re looking forward to something, because it would make that thing closer. If you’re dreading something coming up, you probably shouldn’t sleep, so it doesn’t come up so quickly. Though, you may want to sleep just to get it over with.

Of course, the entire feeling like no time elapses thing is changed by having a dream you can remember. It still feels like you’ve leapt forward however long you’ve slept, but you still know time actually happened because you experienced it in the dream.

I don’t really have dreams that I can remember that often. I know that I have them, but they are usually easily forgotten. I will have one that’s vivid enough that’ll remember it on occasion. They’re usually pretty strange. The hallmark of my dreams is changing characters. I often will be with someone in my dream and who that person is will just change. It’s never dramatic or anything, it’s just someone turns into someone else.

Stress usually isn’t a trigger for dreams for me. I don’t really know what triggers a dream that I’ll remember. It may be loneliness or longing, but I can’t be sure. I just know that usually when I’m most anxious my sleep is pretty peaceful; the little bit of it I get that is.

I did have a dream that night though. It was unusual as dreams are. It was just Camille and I. She was wearing the same clothes she had been wearing the night before, but her red hoodie was missing and she was wearing her red chucks. I didn’t really pay much attention to what I was wearing, but I know I was fully clothed.

We were walking down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere and my presumption is that we were walking home from school; though that was never made clear by the dream. We were just walking; we weren’t holding hand and weren’t particularly close to each other. It was the type of thing that I think doesn’t really exist anymore, but is idealized in fiction about the fifties. On both sides were farm fields. The corn in these fields was very tall; probably taller than corn ever actually gets.

Camille started talking about her Mom. She wasn’t saying the things she had said the night before. She was telling me about the thing her Mom did to annoy her. However, what she was telling me about was the things that my father does to annoy me. It was quite a long list and I was kind of pleased that someone had the same problems as me.

As we were walking down the road, suddenly we were confronted by the Notre Dame marching band. It beats the hell out of me why it was the Notre Dame marching band. They were definitely playing the Notre Dame fight song, which I think is the best in college football. I mean, there’s Michigan’s, but when you live here you’re allowed to ignore that.

We had to get out of there way, so we ran off the road. The road was sort of elevated, so we had to run down the slope into the ditch. The corn seemed even taller down there. She was right next to me as the marching band went started to go by on the road. She grabbed a hold of my hand kind of tightly. That made me feel all funny on the inside, which is weird considering we had done more than hold hands the night before.

It seemed never ending; they just kept coming and kept playing that song. She stayed right next to me seeming transfixed on what was happening on the road. Then, some tuba player stopped playing and looked over at us as he walked by. It didn’t seem like a big deal to me. However, she took off into the field of corn behind us. I watched the guy who was looking at us walk past and then start playing again before I took off after her.

I was running through the leaves and stalks. It went on and on and got thicker and thicker. I was beginning to think it was too thick for me to continue, when suddenly I burst through into a clearing. I looked around and saw that it wasn’t anything besides a clearing surrounded by corn fields.

In a lot of my dreams, the girl that stood across the clearing from me wouldn’t be Camille. However, this time it was still her. She had changed outfits though. She was wearing the stripper clothes she had worn at the club the night before. I moved towards her. The heat had suddenly become stifling and the sun seemed even brighter overhead.

I moved towards and began to notice that something wasn’t right. She seemed to be struggling and was rooted to the spot. Also, she didn’t seem to notice me at all. As I got closer, I saw what was holding her. There were two corn stalks holding her feet to the ground; they contrasted with her white stockings. I could also see behind her legs another stalk, which must have been holding her hands behind her back. I started running towards her.

I probably got ten feet from her before I tripped and fell to the ground. I tried to get back up, but couldn’t. I looked up at her. She was still struggling, but was still rooted to the ground. She also still failed to notice me.

Suddenly, behind her something rose from the ground. Once the dust had settled, I saw that it was a walking scarecrow. It was odd in that it was wearing a black suit. It slowly walked towards her. It grabbed her and the plants that had been holding her disappeared. She screamed, but soon seemed to accept as she was dragged back towards the corn fields.

I renewed my struggles to get up, but I still couldn’t. She finally noticed me as she was about to be taken into the corn plants. She didn’t scream for help or anything. She just shook her head as the tears trickled down her cheeks. I caught a final look at her before she disappeared into the corn fields. I was then suddenly free to stand up.

It was very quiet. I stood up and moved towards where I had last seen her. I thought I caught a glimpse of her as I got closer. Then I heard a loud female scream.

-Michael

*The walking with a girl, avoiding the marching band, and holding hands was the extent of my actual dream

NaNoWriMo 3

I hit 30,000 words last night, so you get to tolerate (hopefully) another chapter. This time it's Chapter 21. I had a hard time choosing between this and Chapter 23. I think Chapter 23 is probably more interesting, but is also very similar to Chapter 11, which was in my last post, so I thought I'd give you something a little different. Again, no editing or revision has been done.

Chapter Twenty One

She came back. She didn’t come to the couch to sit by me though. I thought she was about to walk outside. Instead, she opened up her closet by the door. She started taking out a jacket.

“Come on,” she said, “I want to go outside for a little bit.”

I didn’t particularly want to go outside. It had to be even colder now than it had been earlier, but I have that issue with saying no; particularly to women. So, I got up and stood by the door and waited for her to put on her jacket, gloves and hat. I braced myself in just my hoodie and felt the cold air when she opened the door.

I pulled the hood up over head as soon we stepped outside. This hoodie doesn’t have the pocket on the front that most hoodies have so I was just trying to keep my hands covered by my sleeves. That didn’t work out though because she grabbed my left hand. We started walking down the hall holding hands. It felt nice. It made me forget about the cold for a bit.

We stopped walking at the landing of the steps at the end of the hall. It was at the opposite end of where we had walked up when we’d first come up. That seemed like a while ago. The view at the edge of the railing was that of the city’s skyline. She and I stood side by side looking at it.

I always think that things look so much clearer through cold air. I don’t know it’s that’s really true or not. It may just be that my being cold is making my focus more sharp. It was a pretty close view to begin with. It seemed more sharp or intense than I’ve ever seen it before. I suppose it could also be the company I had that was holding my hand as well.

“I think it’s a pretty view,” she said.

“It is,” I said.

I always kind of liked our skyline. It’s not particularly impressive compared to bigger cities. Still, I think it’s a good looking skyline. It’s particularly pretty at night. The way the buildings are lit up is just cool to me. I suppose there’s also some sort of hometown pride in their as well. Not that I’m particularly prideful about this place. I mean, I wouldn’t hesitate to move away should the opportunity present itself. I’m just not desperate to get away or anything.

We stood in silence for a while. I could definitely feel the cold again. She seemed to be enjoying herself so I just dealt with it. I think she was looking kind of whimsically at the skyline.

“What do you think about when you see those buildings?” she asked.

“They symbolize my hometown,” I said, “I’d know that skyline anywhere. They look like that from here, but when you’re actually there you can’t really appreciate them. I mean, they’re impressive you walk beside them, but it’s different when you like at them like this.”

I was really fighting the urge to shiver. It wouldn’t be long until I couldn’t stop myself from doing it. I don’t think I’m particularly wimpy about the cold. I prefer to the heat of summer, but I don’t normally spend extended time outside when it’s hovering near freezing with out my coat. It had been an odd night though and I suppose us standing there looking at the skyline was no different.

“It’s hard to believe things like those could exist when I was at home,” she said, “I knew they did and I knew thing were different in other places. Still, the ways things are there it doesn’t seem like there are people who could build such big things or that there would need to be such big places for people to work at.”

Our perspectives were very different. I had already realized that, but it really crystallized in my mind at that moment. I watched her. I could clearly see her breath as she kept looking at the view. She eventually looked over at me. She smiled when I looked back.

“Alright,” she said, “it’s freezing and I don’t think we’ll run into anybody worth running into out here. Let’s go back to the apartment.

“Ok,” I said.

We walked back to her door. She let go of my door to let us back in, I had really liked holding her hand, but it was nice to have it back. It was so cold it had gotten painful. I covered it with my sleeve and longed for the warmth in her place. We both hurried in once she had the door open.

Being out of the cold was so nice. I put my hood back. My hand, nose and ears all had been so cold. She took off her jacket and things and put them back in the closet. She turned, but sort of stumbled. She ended up grabbing me to keep herself upright. She laughed.

“Whoops,” she said, “I’m not drunk or anything.”

“I trip over my own feet all the time,” I said.

“I’m gonna go make us some more hot chocolate,” she said, “Your nose is so red.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“It’ll be just a minute,” she said, “You can sit back down if you want to.”

I did got and sit back where I had been on the couch. I would be glad to have that warm mug in my hands again. I could hear the microwave buzzing and then the timer went off. Shortly after, she came back carrying two mugs. She handed me one.

“Do you want me to get you a blanket?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “but thank you.”

She sat down beside me. She set her mug down and then unlaced and slipped off her shoes. She sat them neatly on the floor before picking her hot chocolate back up and started sipping along with me.

“I don’t really like the cold,” she said, “but I don’t know if I could live somewhere that didn’t have a real winter.”

“I know I couldn’t,” I said, “Winter is my favorite season.”

“I always have liked the spring,” she said.

“It’s nice the first day you can go out in short sleeves in the spring,” I said.

“I just like the longer days and that things get pretty again,” she said.

-Michael