Yeah, so I think I'm done with this on-line journal stuff.

So far as I can tell, nothing good really comes of it.  If you wanna know what's going on in my life or what's goin on in this way-fun brain of mine, ASK.  IM, phone, snail-mail, e-mail . . . 's all good.

So, in an effort to lessen (1.) the drive to procrastinate and (2.) the drama, I guess this is peace out to the Xanga world.

Peace.

Chris White went to Yale. 

If that means anything to you--awesome.  If it doesn't, don't worry--I'm just a dork . . . like you needed me to explain that.

I think one of my favorite things about life is the possibility of it making 180° turns on you at ANY GIVEN MOMENT.  Hm . . . I kinda think that's one of my LEAST favorite things about it, too. 

Some of the things I've said, done, or--yeah--written in the past couple of days haven't sat well with people.  But I set out to do or say or LIVE those things unapologetically.  I'm trying to live honestly.  Is that . . . rude?

Small, random acts that I deem inconsequential aren't always perceived that way by others.  Bold statements that I put emphasis and importance into aren't always perceived that way by others.  Why does the perception of others matter so much?  Probably because I care about the people perceiving these things.

I feel an unspoken obligation to make sure other people . . . aren't casualities in my war on the world.  I don't want to stagnate or be another unit in a droning stream of humanity put upon this world.  I want to change things.  I want to make things better.  I've declared war on a world that will probably never be fair.  But I can at least work to make it . . . safe.  Decent, perhaps?

(I know there are those who would equate "safe" to mean "boring," but I don't mean safe in the sense of, "I want people to never be challenged."  Of course I do--hell, I left a very "safe" educational environment to come to this place that challenges me academically, inter-personally, emotionally, physically, etc. etc.  But I do think there are certain challenges that one needn't go through--at least not alone.  I mean challenges like access to necessary health care, or access to emotional support, or access to academic support, etc. etc.  And c'mon . . . think about it . . . I've probably issued some sort of challenge to you at one point or another if I've known you for more than 24 hours.) 

I've maintained for the past few months that some of my greatest weapons are an appropriate external levity and necessary level of irreverance.  If I were to have taken seriously every criticism I've encountered in the four years I've made extra cash as a waiter, I'd be a small, small person by now.  But there are criticisms and commentary that do affect me, and yes, bring me down.  That's when I'm human for a change. 

But I suppose learning to take those instances in stride, and to turn them into bricks in my foundation to be built upon is a challenge I'm ready to rise to.  I don't know that anyone can completely "conquer" this or achieve it like a goal, but one can work towards it.

Perhaps my "race" mentality from some damn good experiences in highschool athletics is a little too pervasive.  I have been looking at a lot of things lately as tasks that can be finished.  Once-and-for-all.  Races, honestly.  But, there is a lot going on right now that is more of a continual process without a set finish line, and I need to not be put off by that idea so much that it turns debilitating.  Being self-defeating really is a one-way ticket to nowheresville.

Okay, if you've put up with my pontificating this long, you deserve a reward.

I make no apologies for any of the things I've written in this space.  What I do apologize for, is if you (yes YOU!) were put off by a lack of smiley faces or an assertion that people may not know or understand me.  That assertion was intended--not as a condemnation of anyone--but as a realization on my own part that I am a multi-faceted person.  Which I think rules.

Of course people know me, just like I know other people.  But I think we'd all be doing ourselves a disservice if we didn't admit that in most cases, our knowledge of each other is very general.  And that's safe.  The more we invest in each other, the higher the highs, but damn . . . those lows can go wicked low.

So, when you (again--yes YOU!) read this, please realize it's a one-sided conversation.  I'm saying what's on my mind as much for you as I am for me.

But, yeah, about LIFE pulling 180's on us out of nowhere . . . it rules.

No doubt, I was not in the best of places when I'd written the previous entry, but I'll be damned if I'm not in one helluva good place now--thanks especially to 2 awesome people.

If you don't have a relationship in your life that is like the one that Julia and I have finally reestablished--you need to get crackin on finding that person.  I know you read this Juls, so again, MAD thanks just for . . . your you-ness.

And, then . . . there's Javi.  This kid and I HARDLY see eye to eye on just about anything . . . and more often than not, I'd venture to say we're a thorn in each other's sides who thinks the other has a lot of learning to do.  But the kid's an incredible writer with whom I share a common value on honesty.  He shared a lot of words with me today in a single poem that said volumes about him . . . me . . . life in general, but these are the one's that'll stick with me for a while:

"I remember you as a friend

who came up to me and apologized

about my life and what you don't know . . ."

Damn kid made me realize that, yeah, I did do that, didn't I?  So . . . there are a lot of things I'm not going to apologize for because they are inherently me--my thoughts, especially.  But I do apologize if they are perceived contrary to my intention. 

There is definitely one thing that is a KNOWN fact without any room for misunderstanding or misinterpretation, though . . . and that's where Chris White went to school. 

I love it here, I really do.

But you know what I absolutely HATE about this place?  I can't escape it now and then by just hopping in my car and driving around to good music.

Man . . . some of the strongest memories I have are of . . . nothing substantial.  But I really miss them.  I really miss, in the craziness of Senior Year just . . . going out for a drive.  Collecting my thoughts.  Maybe belting out a few songs as I cruise down uninhabited roads.  Alone.

I miss what the stars look like at night.  I miss looking over a corn field and thinking about how I ran through it the day before during practice.  I miss the safety of the structure my life had.  Even when I was getting shot down by my top schools towards the end of the year . . . there was something secure about knowing . . . Wake-up at 6.  Breakfast.  Shower.  Car.  Parking lot.  Class.  Lunch.  Class.  Practice.  Car.  Shower.  Dinner.  Homework.  TV.  Homework.  Wake-up at 6. 

Party on Fridays.  (Though we usually wound up just watching TV in someone's basement . . . it was a safe bet.)  Work on Saturdays.  Church on Sundays.  Nap.  Homework Sunday nights.  Wake-up at 6.

I guess this is where learning how to be an adult comes in

It sucks having to figure out where your next meal is coming from and if you'll have enough to cash to even pay for it.  Jay?  Somewhere that delivers?  Do I have time to cook?

It sucks realizing it's 9:00 at night and it's too dark to go for a run.  9 pm never stopped me at home.  Nine was safe.

It sucks not seeing the same faces for 11 years--even if some of them turn your stomach for things they've said or done.

It sucks that bridges get burnt and that when you know people are hurting, you can't show-up the next morning with a mix-CD or something else corny to put a little hop in their step.

It sucks that you can't bust out the Star Spangled banner like you're singing it for all of Fenway Park when "no one's home" because, although no one might be in your room or suite--the people above you will start stomping because they're trying to read.

It sucks that you can never--FREAKING NEVER--find an empty piano at this place just to go over an old tune you've memorized.  Or even practice something new because you can imagine the winces of disgust at how amateurish the sound being produced is.

It sucks that lifelong friends from all across the State aren't going through agonizlingly similar struggles at the same time as you so you can commiserate late at night . . . and get through it simply based on the fact that you'll see them when you volunteer together in May or June.

It sucks knowing you can't trust your body 'cuz it's going to do whatever the hell it pleases.  It sucks having to worry whether or not your limbs will get sensation back every time they "fall asleep."  It sucks that you went to college a different person than who you were when you graduated high school just because of a lousy week at Baystate.

It sucks having to sit on the sidelines while your bullet-proof Mom fights one of the tougher battles life has handled her.  And that you can't goof around with your older brother at will now that you're both FINALLY at ages where the 6 year gap doesn't matter.  And that you can't feel your Dad's pride and approval in every one of your accomplishments.  And that you don't have the most loyal dog in the world "checking up on you" every 20 minutes or so in the midst of running the house.

It sucks to know how much passed you by.  And how much you didn't take advantage of.  And how much you took for granted.  And how much you let people down . . . and yourself.

It sucks not being able to get all of the "it sucks"s out of your system just by hopping in the car and going for a drive.  Collecting my thoughts.  Maybe belting out a few familiar tunes.  Maybe shedding a few necessary tears.

But it rules to have the opportunities life has afforded me thus far.  I'm not the most athletic in the group (unless you've assembled a team of 5th grade girls).  I'm not the fastest, the tallest, the most built, the most musical, the artsiest, the smartest or the best looking.

I'm the most . . . me.  I'll take that.  Being me is such a gift, day-in, day-out.  More and more this skin of mine is becoming a place of increased comfort.  I know a lot of people think they "get" me, but they don't understand me.  Hell, reading this ain't gonna get you any closer, to be honest.

If you know me--you know who you are.  And I love you for it unconditionally.

If your memories or thoughts of me are only a few strong memories--good or bad--you don't know me.  If you can only think of me in 2 settings--you don't know me.  If you've only ever seen me at Columbia, or only at Ithaca--you don't know me.  If you can only name 10 moods I have--you don't know me.

If you know me when I'm in my car at 1am on a school night, just marveling at my life and soaking it in--then you're close.

Bliss Road . . .Steering wheel in one hand . . . Yale's rejection letter in the other . . . "So Impossible" coming through the speakers . . . Anger in my eyes . . . but . . . Peace in my heart . . .

I want that peace back in my heart.  And my hands back on the wheel.

Waterskiing Squirrel.  You saw it here first. 

Heh, Andrew's new anti-procrastination protocol is as follows:

(1.) No more weblog entries until I get eProps or a comment on the previous one.

(2.) Starting . . . NOW!

(3.) Unless of course, I get somethin that I just gotta share.

(4.) Okay . . . NOW!