Foiled Again.

I don't know what's going on.

I don't know why these things keep happening.

Maybe it's the company I keep.

Or the fact that I keep no company.

I can't have anything I want without destroying something else.

And it's not even my fault.

I'm just me.

I've become this horrible thing,

everyone hates me because

I'm the 'bad guy'.

When things go wrong, it's my doing.

But it's not.

I didn't do this.

She did.

She would leave everything, everyone for me.

And everyone knew that.

So I turned into the enemy.

And I still am.

She'll only have me if she wants to lose everything else.

And she doesn't.

Jesus Christ.

This is on of those times

when you can have everything.

There's no need to purge.

I just want her to be here.

I don't want to ruin everything.

She left me, and I think no worse of anyone else.

And I know I've made mistakes.

But they aren't mistakes if they don't happen again.

It shouldn't be this hard.

It shouldn't be this hard, for her.

Why can't she have me and everything else?

I'm not preventing anything.

I'm sorry if all of you hate me.

I'm doing the best I can.

She should able to be with me and retain everything else.

Because I know I'm not worth it

if being with me means I'm all she gets.

Dancing With Myself.

There's good in everything.

After the initial events,

the rest seem good.

You have to go through pain

to get good.

I wanted to fall in love again,

and by God I have.

And it's exactly like it used to be;

a distance between everything.

So many hurdles to clear to get where I want to go.

But this isn't like Twister,

it isn't awkward,

it's natural.

Nobody's worth more;

only a few are worth less.

I've arrived at the place I wanted to go.

I'm single, but not alone.

I'm not close to anyone,

so no one can break me down.

I'm invincible.

I'm new.

I'm Bailey White, God damn it;

fear me.

The Departed.

Tim Bruder is no longer.

He died in his sleep last Saturday,

and was not there yesterday.

I did not know him very well,

but I always held him in the highest regard.

Even while cracking jokes in the back of the room.

I'd always do what he wanted,

even if I didn't know how to do it.

He had a silent knowledge about him,

first assuming we knew,

then stepping in with his encyclopedic knowledge.

He was forgetful,

at times he was uninvolved,

but it was because he believed in us.

It was because he trusted us.

Even if we were the scruffiest bunch in the school,

he trusted that we'd do the right thing.

And if we didn't,

he'd rewind the tapes,

and smack us down.

Verbally, of course.

And even know he's only said my name 4 times,

I'll miss him.

I'll miss him dearly.

Because he represented my favorite part of school.

Auto shop.

-----

But that's not enough tragedy for one day.

My wonderful Taylor is now elsewhere.

With another man.

Giving her love to him.

And it's all my fault.

I put a stranglehold on her.

And she longed for freedom.

And that's what she got.

She got away from me.

I lost the greatest thing in my life.

Out of the great love we shared,

all that's left for me is anger.

And memories.

We traveled together,

we slept together,

we put trust in each other.

But, the emphasis was too great.

She became resentful,

because she was my only priority.

Everything had slipped away,

and only she was there.

For me, that was everything I wanted.

I wanted to be seen with her.

I wanted my kids to be like her.

I wanted the security of her,

to show that I was not hopeless,

that I could have another in my life,

and that it could work.

But,

that was shattered.

All we had is now gone.

Replaced with resentment and disdain.

All she can give me now is her appearance.

Her glowing face,

and wonderful smile.

But I know it's not for me.

She doesn't smile because of me.

She doesn't smile for me.

She smiles for her freedom.

She smiles for the present.

She smiles for doing what she's done.

And there's no turning back.

I'm not at the top any longer.

I've fallen into the sea of everybody else.

But I know,

that she loved me once,

and as I drift in the sea,

in the sea of everyone,

I wonder,

if that will be enough for her to love me again.

I have a lifetime ahead of me.

But maybe not.

In the words of my stroke-plagued P.E. teacher,

"Tomorrow is promised to no one."

If I can never have her again,

I will always have the memories.

And hopefully,

in time,

she can be mine again.

And we can share the time,

knowing that we're good for each other.

Knowing that nothing can ever break

true love.

The Desert.

I would enjoy the desert.

The desert would be nice.

In the desert, cold can't hurt;

only at night.

In the desert, I'd be alone,

without a map, without a phone,

but the desert would be nice,

because of the warmth that sets it's price.

In the desert, there would be sorrow,

there would be loneliness,

but there would be a certain homeliness

promised by tomorrow.

I am alone,

all by myself,

braving the unknown,

in very bad health.

I have grown old,

she has grown cold,

If only I had been told,

Our love would not have been sold.

She kept me warm,

she set the norm,

She was the light,

on my blackest nights.

Now we have to forget,

the memories,

all we've made,

together.

She's moved on,

but not I.

I have a little while longer

before I move to the desert.

The place of warmth.

The only place where loneliness and happiness

coexist.

"I love her so,

I can't let her go.

I looove you,

OOH, baby I love you!"

Swift, Abrupt and Devastating.

Well, it's arrived.

Judgement day.

The end of all days.

After days of losses,

days of anger,

days of angst,

we've parted.

The eternal flame

has been extinguished.

The flame that burnt so bright,

the flame that led the way,

the flame that prevailed,

has been snuffed.

The warmth is now absent.

The cold is seeping to my bones.

I must depart,

seek warmth,

broaden my horizons.

But,

if the flame returns,

if a bonfire ensues,

believe me,

I will be back

in it's arms once again.

But, for now,

I must go.

Seek the warmth

that a flame can provide.

The Swishing Sound a Blade Makes.

When you hear it, you should flinch.

Jump outta the way.

That's probably the worst sound you could hear.

Your fate has been chosen;

here it comes.

That's what I'm hearing, right now:

Cameron skipped practice,

Cameron's got three F's,

Cameron's got a GPA of 1.6,

Cameron's not drum major any more,

Cameron's missing credits,

Cameron's not going to graduate.

I dunno.

Maybe he needs motivation.

Maybe he needs unrest to operate;

something to repair.

I can't tell if he's hearing the sound,

or if it's already happened.

. . . . .

Could it be both?

Now we have to figure out who the drum major is going to be.

Who's the 'backup'.

Who will take his place.

Like I'm hearing right now,

"We'll find out tomorrow, Cameron."

Tanner just made me realize

we'll all be in the same school,

if he doesn't graduate.

I don't know if if is the right word to use anymore.

My Duty.

I can't tell if what I'm thinking is selfish or not--but,

I feel like I'm doing more work and getting less and less me-time.

I get home, I do the dishes, do my homework, and go to bed.

I get yelled at for being on my computer, talking with my friends,

but I also get yelled at for being out too long, too often.

It's like they miss me.

Do they really?

I hardly ever sleep over anywhere,

and honestly I don't have many man friends here.

So I'm here, most all the time, except for school and maybe a football game or two.

I want to be able to dictate what I do.

And I understand that I have to be here, and that I have a curfew,

but, Jesus; look at my brother,

he gets to do all sorts of shit.

Band leader, sports, friends,

stuff.

My dad wants me to go out for sports so badly.

Am I a sporty type?

I don't think so.

But, still, I'm pressured, even threatened.

"You have to pick a sport, or I will."

What I want to do is drive.

Really the only thing I've ever wanted to do.

But, when I suggest that, I get squashed.

"You'll have to do a lot more around here."

???

I've gotten at least a 3.5 GPA every semester since the 6th grade.

I have no discipline issues.

I've never done drugs, like practically every person I've met.

What I'm trying to say is I've got my shit together.

I'd please any other parent of any other peer of mine.

I mean, hell; Logan Lightsey gets a brand new car with a 2.5 GPA.

I don't want a new car.

I want to drive.

A plausible argument that might be brought up is cost.

I don't have a job.

I don't have any money.

But how much is a sports fee?

How much did it cost for my brother to go to drum major camp?

$87 per month?

I don't know man.

I've been good.

I'd enjoy one perk of being Bailey White.

I don't complain too much in real life, guys.

I apologize if I sound like a whiny bitch.

It's just life as I see it, at the moment.

And, by God, that's what this shit's about!

Finer Things.

Who can I trust?

Well, that's a question with no answer.

It's too bad, really.

I wish I had somebody that I could tell things to.

That responded.

A diary doesn't help me.

A diary shows how pathhetic I am.

A diary is a sorry excuse for a good friend.

I wish I had people.

Well, I do.

And those people let me down.

Time and time again.

So, maybe what I need is no one.

That way, I would have no secrets.

A novel concept.

I'm sure I'm no better than the people I describe.

So, maybe I should change.

Would they give me a chance?

Laws, no.

I can't blame them.

It only takes one slip to embody a person.

Once I mess up, I'm through.

But, I'll learn.

And I'll be that much better for the next person.

Or, if they stick around,

well,

let's just say we'll go places.

Simple trust is better than any material object.

Well,

trust is up there with the finer things:

http://www.sinemaestro.com/uploads/posts/2009-07/1246453044_1968-mustang-fastback-630-75.jpg

Down Here On the Farm.

Ahh, the good life.

Toilets, food and iPods.

Raining from the sky, being everything we want.

We have it pretty good.

We have hospitals,

we have stores,

and we have each other.

It seems that most times, when there's a problem, it's simply created.

To battle our boredom.

I mean, reality TV?

Dating websites?

Viagra?

We're no longer battling smallpox, polio, or even the common cold.

If people die, they die.

Do ants have Viagra?

That would actually be pretty funny.

But, no.

If they break a leg or something, they will most likely die of complications of it.

A bigger problem than us is the energy crisis?

What will happen if we run out of oil???

Honestly, nothing.

The world might get a bit smaller, but people aren't going to start dying off.

There are bigger problems, folks.

Fuck oil; solve AIDs.

There's a problem.

Well, no.

Overpopulation is also a problem.

So it could go either way.

What I mean to say is, the issues today aren't really going to determine the fate of humans.

We have food, we have our health.

What else do we need?

The answer to the question?

Flip on your TV.

There's an infomercial to show you what you need.

Because life's gonna be hell without your damn ShamWow.

:P

Horrible Hindsight.

I got her.

I almost gave up, but I got her.

She really wanted me, turns out.

I never knew.

I never knew love.

This was love, at it's best.

I loved her, she loved me.

The rest of the world faded away.

Sank into nothingness.

There was only us,

each other.

Others butted in,

but I shooed them away.

I took away everything from her,

everything that I didn't like.

I changed her,

made her my own.

She'd do anything for me.

She'd move mountains,

mow over those in her way.

For a good cause, though.

Love, at it's finest.

We made vows,

speculations,

of what our lives would be,

together, for eternity.

But, I've got cold feet.

No bells are ringing, though.

I see what I have,

and am hit by what I don't.

She's my best friend.

She's my world.

If I lost her, I'd lose everything.

But I don't know what's worse;

putting her through this,

or leaving her.

I love her,

I think.

I'm not who she is,

the loyal, experienced being.

I need experience.

I need to know what I have is the best.

What I had.

I might never get her back.

I'd know exactly what I need,

but I would have lost it,

lost it to my fear,

my virginity.

Nothing is nice, anymore.

No route leads to happiness

without passing through pain and suffering.

Nothing is bliss.

Like the love I once knew.

The love I once yearned for,

that I could not have.

I'm just a boy,

bored with his new toy.

I've forgotten the novelty.

What it is to be in love.

She knows.

I envy her.

I envy her knowing,

her assurance.

I want to give her the world,

but I cannot,

simply because I don't know what I have.

The gift.

How good my love is.

I'd do anything.

I'd give my life to feel this love

I once knew.

I'm sorry, my Taylor,

please excuse my forgetfulness.

I know I love you,

but I cannot prove it.

I'm sorry.

But know, dear,

when I say you'll be with me,

at my end,

I mean it.

If I can't guarantee anything,

I can give you that.

I know I've done you wrong,

including right now,

but you deserve nothing like this.

You deserve loyalty

and assurance,

from the one you love most.

Give me time, honey.

I'm still learning.

Nobody For Miles...

My parents are in Cooperstown, NY with Tanner for a baseball-thingy. They're coming back Friday and until then, Cameron and I get to laze around our house, doing practically nothing. It's fun, because we get to do things like, not put anything away, take showers at 3 and scream obsecenities at the top of our lungs. Well, just me, for the last one, anyway. It's a little peek into the bachelor's life I would live. I haven't eaten anything hot for three days, and it's a FUCKING pigsty in here. It's nothing I don't want, though. No parents to run away from or to negotiate with; it's just about the best week ever.

To Fall in Love.

If I could ever do something a million times, and then a million times again, I'd fall in love. Not to be in love, to fall in love. Goint day to day, I see the interactions between people, and every so often, I'll see the sparkle and grin of someone, looking at another. That feeling, that feeling of joy and want, it without a doubt the greatest thing in the world. Even if it doesn't last, even if it blows up in your face twenty minutes later, the brief time that you felt it, you could just remember, and remember how it is. There are bad times, but falling in love is most definetly the best. Like how you rarely have terrible times, this is a treat in itself.

Beyond the Curtian.

Below it, there is nothing.

Beyond it are only thoughts.

An idea.

There are people beyond that curtian.

They will catch you when you fall through,

when you pull it out from under you.

Nobody will catch you,

Nobody is there.

Everybody you think is there,

is watching you fall,

into your own pit.

Not knowing what's beneath you,

good or bad,

you grab the ragged walls,

and hoist yourself back,

to the surface,

to what is known,

back to what you have.

When, in reality,

the hole is a new beginning,

another place, another time.

But you will wonder,

time after time,

if there are people at the bottom,

waiting for you.

You know, however,

that you couldn't go back,

back to the top,

to what you had.

All that is stopping you,

is hindsight,

that hasn't yet been known.

Because you know,

"You don't know what you've got,

'till it's gone."

Their World is On Fire.

You know them. They hardly say positive things. They always have something to cry about. I've become close with a few people of this type....and it just baffles me. What am I supposed to do with them? They think everything I say is an attack, and that I have no idea what they're going through. Well, I do, and damn it, I want to help you. I can't help you if you always talk in the third person and cry your eyes out everytime you go to sleep. You can make it better, but all I can do is help. The happiness is inside you, and it's up to YOU to bring it out. All I can do is give you a rough idea of where it is.

Human Networking.

My social life. My social life is very miniscule, at best, for reasons I've created. For starters, I'm a jerk to people who I deem ignorant. The girls that talk in their high pitched voices, wearing three pounds of makeup and constantly rebutting with the simple and uneffective "Shut up!" Some of these people, I've noticed, seem to TRY to be stupid. It baffles me. They laugh at their careless mistakes and at their general misfourtune. Sometimes it makes me wonder if these people are actually who they claim to be. Logan Lightsey, who I've immortialized in words above, could easily be a robot, seeing herself, and relating to the people that are laughing AT her. Either this, or she's adopted an amazingly low standard for self-esteem.
Things like this happen with a great many of the people I meet. I find a problem, and decide I cannot spend my time with that person based simply on that problem. I have few friends, I will say. I have about four people that I can talk to, but three of them are lucky to see me twice a month, because they go to different schools and have various things to do thatt don't involve me. I only have one person that I can consult with. I don't become mortal enemies with EVERYONE, just most of the people that I spend my time with. I KNOW lots of people, but usually never spend very much time with them, just because it would be a new thing, and I would have no particualr desire to do so anyway. For example; my baseball team. I doubt I would talk to any of them in real life situations because of all the differences we have, including not having classes together, not being in the same clique, etc.ut we have a common interest that brings us all together: baseball. We have practices, games, team outings, and at all these events, we talk to each other. We chat about school, games, girls and anything else we can find common ground in.
So basically, if you're forced into a group, it will probably not work out too well. No common interests, different levels of desire, etc. But, if you get together to do something that you'd enjoy, it'd be great, because you'd already have things in common. You have to do quite a bit less socializing to wring thoughts and ideas out of somebody. You start with what you know, and then you start to break new ground, and discover what you can get away with before the person starts secretly mocking you and thinking you're a robot.

The Man, His Machine.

Volvo 240. A car for the man professor. A car for the man with a lot of shit to carry. A man who cannot afford things that go zoom, that cannot afford a car that will boost his sex appeal. The car, for a man...


....who can't drive yet.


Not that one, but there is a Volvo station wagon in my driveway, waiting to drive 500,000 miles to the ends of the Earth. Waiting to resist a 55 mph imact with a concrete wall, and drive away. Yes folks, it will someday be mine. All 114 hp. Rawr. Somebody needs to call Niels Wetzel, cause I'M in town. His '71 Porsche 914 is about to get told. Just like Harrison Ford in American Graffiti. Except I hope I don't wreck and have my girlfriend get pissed at me. Unlike Mr. Ford, though, My Volvo will drive away, and we will get our revenge in the long run...

In the beginning.

My geometry teacher always says "Blogs. Everyone's writing; nobody's reading. Well, quite hinestly, I don't give a damn if anyone reads this. This is going to be a self serving outlet for my brain, and will be similar to that of an aquarium. You can see inside the water, see where the fishes and sharks live and how they go about every thing. Nobody HAS to go to an aquarium, but they're there. And there isn't glass so that you can view every part opf the underwater wilderness. There are TONS of things that you can't see, and that's how this is going to be. All the best, most colorful fish are going to be put into the tank. You won't see shark attacks, drownings or other things of the like. I'll keep the best bits for my significant others.


BUT, don't let me discourage you from reading. I enjoy writing, and without readers, it might as well not been said! I'll type it out, so the masses can see what I can do at a crowded desk with a dilapidated Mac. This may just be words, but what's writing if it's mostly pictures? Depending on the ratio, it could be an illustrated classic, or a comic book. Anyway, I'll dress it it up when I have to, but I'll try to do my best with a keyboard.